#once again i don't really expect an answer just tagging out of tradition | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

wh6res · 4 years ago

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UP IN SMOKES — DOYOUNG

psych student! kdy | tw. college au, violence, a knife, GASLIGHTING, hallucination, psychosis, swearing, just pure manipulation, minor charac death, there's a court scene, this is a repost! | wc. 10k she a beast

life could’ve been simple;

you shouldn't have met kim doyoung.

what does a freshman in college hate the most other than the high-stress levels of moving into a new dorm? a shitty roomie and a smelly, moldy mattress. the girl you call roommate refuses to help move the mattress because it will ruin her new manicure. what a fucking classic.

"sounds like a 'you' problem. figure it out yourself, plain jane."

she said before heading out, annoyingly popping her bubblegum as she kicks a few of your scattered boxes by the front door. you roll your eyes; classes haven't even started yet, so why is she already making your life miserable? as much as you'd like to snap at her, you don't, merely glaring daggers at her back as she finally turns the corner of the hallway and disappears.

"bitch," you mutter under your breath.

you eye the abomination that is supposed to be your bed, cursing how you shouldn't have made a 15-minute pit stop to starbucks for a drink when you could've just bought one from the instant coffee vending machines in every corner of the hallway of this dorm building because if you didn't, maybe you could've beaten regina george wannabe from taking the better bed. sighing, you suck it up and start getting to work. life's full of shit, anyway; no point sulking.

moving a moldy mattress is easier than you thought, to say the least. you can't ask for help from the other freshmen you bumped into in the hallway because they, too, are under a huge amount of stress from the move and are busy getting their affairs in order. it was a good thing, though, that a committee was formed specifically for this day to help out the freshmen if they were to stumble upon problems or mishaps with moving in. they were all around the campus, and they prove to be way friendlier than your batch mates. since this morning, three people have already offered help in carrying your luggage — which you have politely declined.

"hey, uhm… is this the stall for the welcoming committee? oh, wait. i'm sorry, there's a sign right there —"ugh.

you mentally shut your eyes in humiliation. why do you have to be this bad, this awkward at communicating with strangers? why couldn't you be born like all those socialites who already (probably) got their contacts filled with new numbers on the first day of school or something?

"yeah, this is them — welcoming committee, i mean. how can i help you?" he smiles, sweet, radiating the epitome boy next door aura as he looks up at you from where he's sitting behind the stall. your eyes quickly land onto the name tag stuck on his varsity jacket before meeting his eyes again.

"i have an issue with my mattress. it has mold, you see..." your voice slowly trails, becoming quieter as you feel small under the weight of his piercing stare. oh, come on. he's just a guy with a beautiful face, woman the fuck up.

"really? let me see..."

he needn't finish rounding the stall when his nose is hit by the pungent smell brought forth by your mattress. frankly, you weren't that picky. you could've covered it with bedsheets and call it a day, but the odor is too strong to ignore. you mentally hope the smell didn't latch onto your clothes, especially not when someone so cute is around — what a bad first impression.

"oh, god!" he exclaims the moment he lays eyes on it, taking a step back. “now, that has to go. and you lugged it from the fourth floor?"

ah, yes. according to tradition in these dormitories, which you've only found out today, freshmen get the curse of climbing four flights of stairs up while the seniors strut into their rooms on the ground floor like the hallway is a goddamned runway.

"doyoung! help me carry these!"

someone calls his name as you both turn your head to spot a chestnut-haired girl clad in the same varsity jacket he's wearing. you grimace at the sight of her. for someone so small, she just had to volunteer to carry all those heavy bags. however, he doesn't move in front of you and brushes her off as if she doesn't look like she's carrying rocks over her shoulders. "i'm already helping someone else! go find taeyong or something. i'm sure that shit's loitering around here somewhere!"

"oh, it's okay, you can go help her. i'll just look for someone else —"

"nah, it's fine!" you try hard to school your face into indifference when you notice his gummy smile. "plus… trust me when i say no other person from the committee will help you with this. this shit smells like my roommate's sweaty basketball socks!"

you can't help the smile forming on your face as you help him carry the mattress off to the side of the hallway, the stinky thing leaning vertically against the wall and behind a huge terracotta plant pot. "don't worry, let's report it to student affairs so they'll get you a new one. congrats! you'll have to share beds with your new roommate tonight, freshie. it'd be a great ice breaker."

the universe truly hates you.

your expression must've been a dead give away because he's suddenly patting your shoulder, regarding you with utmost sympathy. "been there, done that. i hated taeyong, too, when i met him last year. still, for some mind fuck of a miracle, we've grown to be friends and developed a talent of not wanting to kill each other every two seconds."

"highly doubt i'd be friends with a regina george-level bitch, but thanks, anyway," you mutter under your breath. suddenly, you whip your head towards him after internalizing what he just said. "you met your roommate last year? you're a sophomore?"

he scoffs, leaning down to your height to lowly mutter against your ear as he eyes the lobby's front desk. "why? do i look like some 4th year who radiates 'don't touch me' energy?"

you feel the heat on your cheeks with how close he is, only releasing an exhale when he finally gets out of your personal space. "i'm kim doyoung. you've heard it from wendy earlier, but anyway — i'm a 2nd-year psych major."

"no way!" you exclaim, a little too excited. "i'm taking psych, too!"

"oh, you are? well, if you need anything or if you don't understand stuff…" he winks. "feel free to approach me anytime."

hmm… how sweet of him.

it was only hours later that you found out who kim doyoung is in your department during the acquaintance party. and for god's sake, you found out from your best friend who is a major in english lit and has never even seen the guy. "seriously, you didn't know he's a genius? i hear the professors call him a prodigy, girl! a fucking prodigy. if i were you, i'd ask for his help in every subject."

"you know i prefer keeping to myself. how'd i know stuff like that when i have no one to talk to in the psych dorms?" you look down, making the ice cubes in your drink clink against each other. "i didn't think he was this big shot or whatever. he looks normal, and everyone treats him normally."

"well, what do you expect?" she hisses, hitting your arm. "the other students don't want to make him feel alienated or something just because he's tons smarter than them. but anyway… the real question is…"

you roll your eyes when she pauses for effect, tentatively leaning closer to whisper under her breath.

"is he cute?"

you didn't want to answer her question, but he's been stuck in your head since he offered walking with you to the student affairs office. doyoung had smiled his cute gummy smile and had even ruffled your hair before leaving you for committee duties — saying he's cute would be an understatement.

"you have no idea."

for his first act;

he gains your trust.

fast forward to one year, many things have changed, but the only constant remaining is the handsome sophomore — who is now a 3rd-year, by the way — whom you've met on your first day. coursework has been pretty tough this year. instead of the content written in your textbook, your mind is plagued by the horrible twist of fate your best friend had encountered; she didn't have enemies. or so you thought.

she disappeared in the middle of christmas break last year. her beaten up body was found only a month later, in january, floating around the university's lake. happy fucking new year.

the first time she chose to spend the holidays with you instead of her family back in her hometown, and that happens? some rotten luck you both have. it's why you didn't put it past her family to hate your guts with strong convictions. it's okay. the feeling's mutual. after all, it had been your best friends' own family, the same ones who had been so willing to take you in when you got kicked out, that were so eager to pin you as the murderer of their child. all under the argument that you have been the last person seen with her.

oh, the things her mom said about you when she had stormed into the police station, red in the face, tears streaming down her cheeks..."i warned my baby not to hang out with that — that bitch. came straight out of a cursed family, that one. abusive dad, a nutjob mom. that bitch is a danger! probably got her dad's nasty temper and beat my baby to death! i want her on the electric chair!"

in those times, you once again realize this world is fucked up and cruel in every bit of its glory as you fought tooth and nail to defend yourself. but even then, they never believed you — the law will only favor the rich . the prosecution had been so sure it was you until a certain witness appeared and presented himself before the jury.

"do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?"

doyoung raises his right hand, fixing his stare straight at the judge. "i solemnly and sincerely declare that the evidence i shall give will be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth."

"how long have you known the defendant?" the prosecutor asks, arms crossed in front of her chest as she paces in front of the witness stand.

the boy briefly meets your gaze, and it's enough to make his heart sink. doyoung can't bear seeing you in those grey overalls when he knows it himself. you're being accused of a crime you didn't commit. "i've known her for one year."

"how'd you meet?"

and the questions went on and on; your defense attorney isn't all too keen on winning the case and had never once yelled "objection!" in her seat, but what could you expect? all the evidence kept stacking against you, and some of those you knew were even fabricated. you've never felt this hopeless in your whole twenty years of living.

"what's the point in this, anyway?" doyoung snapped in the witness stand, fiercely glaring at the prosecutor. "how is my history — or lack thereof — with the defendant any relevant to the case? you're not even asking me about evidence nor what my statement is!"

"easy there," the prosecutor retaliates, jaw locked. "i have to first measure what exactly your relationship is with the defendant for us to think twice about your statement. who knows..." the prosecutor makes a grand gesture of turning her head in your direction, affixing you with a condescending stare. "she might've just hired you to say these things."

your attorney doesn't come to your aid.

"perjury isn't my thing."

the prosecutor seems to have taken offense by the tone of doyoung's voice, but he doesn't let her speak further. "the victim isn't all sunshine and rainbows, you know. she'd been a part of a sorority and one with quite a nasty reputation in the college, too. i have to say she made very poor decisions, ones i'm sure her family didn't even know about. you see, they take their oaths and pledges very seriously. the victim wanted out. they didn't like that."

"and you have evidence to support this claim?"

without a moment to waste, he digs around the front pocket of his jeans before proudly presenting a black usb between his slender fingers. "knock yourself out."

the professor calls your name, snapping you out of your reverie. this isn't the first time your mind had transported you back to that particular day in the courtroom, where doyoung had swooped in and saved you from a lifetime in prison. the whole ordeal had been so scary, so frightening that you remember everything vividly as if it had only happened yesterday.

the classroom is empty. even your social psych professor has long packed up his stuff and is already standing by the classroom door. damn. were you that out of it?

"i'm so sorry." you mutter under your breath monotonously as you walk past him and out the door without another word. this is bad, very bad. no one would help, much less lend their notes to someone charged with murder — especially of their very own best friend. whether you were innocent or not doesn't matter to the student body. you've been ostracized, gossips of your problematic family spreading like wildfire, and the ridiculous part is only a fourth of the gossips are true.

the damage is done.

at this point, you realize with a heavy heart that you have to face doyoung again sooner or later. you haven't talked to him at all since the start of the new school year, ignoring his lighthearted greetings in the hallways, rejecting his calls, ghosting his texts. you are afraid people would judge him harshly for hanging around you. frankly, you were embarrassed to ask any more favors from him with how much he's done for you already and the fact that he had seen you in such a state of vulnerability.

but you also didn't want to fail your subjects and lose the one thing holding your life together — your scholarship.

that is why you found yourself standing before him, in his favorite spot in the library tucked behind shelves upon shelves of books, next to the windows overlooking the empty football field. he's wearing black-rimmed glasses and is clad in the usual navy blue sweater as his head turns to and fro between a textbook and his notebook. the air had been so silent, you hear the aggressive scratches his pencil makes against the paper.

you feel a little hurt when he makes no move to acknowledge your presence, but you think back to what you have been doing and figured he has a right to act this way.

"hey, doyoung." your voice is meek, hesitant.

"if you're not here to explain nor give me an acceptable reason why you've been ignoring me for the last few months, then please get out of my sight. i'm busy, as you can tell." he is brutally honest, knocking down the remaining hope you have left of ever reconciling with him.

something within you snaps, the steady streams of tears running down your cheeks as you pinned your stare on doyoung's open pencil case lying on the table. you have nobody left. your family — father, specifically speaking — has disowned you for taking a course your heart wanted, and the one friend you have lies motionless in a white coffin buried six feet under the ground. you didn't want to lose doyoung, too, no matter what role he plays in your life.

"i'm sorry," your voice cracks. "life's been… fucking shitty, and i'm sure you of all people know what i've been through. i've thanked you before for — for what you did, and i'm thanking you again right now but — i'm sorry, i'm really —"

your voice cracks when you feel him pulling you into an embrace. you feel the tension in your body breaking loose as you crumble in his arms. all those months grieving and wallowing in self-pity took such a heavy toll that you can't help but tightly clutch the sides of his hoodie, scared he'll slip through your fingers.

one of his hands comes up to push your face against the crook of his neck, muffling your cries in the silent library. doyoung felt like a jerk for snapping at you the way he did. how inconsiderate can he be? however, he felt elated because you sought him out yourself and wanted his help of all people.

his eyebrow raises in amusement.

well, not that you have a choice, anyway.

it took you a few good minutes to calm down, cringing when you see the wet patch on doyoung's sweater because of your tears.

"why don't you tell me everything, hmm? i'll help you as much as i can."

you sheepishly look down, fiddling with your fingers as you sit across him, the open textbook and notebook before him long forgotten. "well, i've been so out of it lately? my mind's just a whole bloody mess and i can't focus on any of my subjects at all and if i can't, then i'll lose the scholarship and it's the only thing i have in my life right now —"

"hey," doyoung cuts you off, placing a warm hand against your forearm to calm you down. "you won't lose that scholarship. trust me, okay? why don't we arrange tutoring sessions and i'll even lend you some of my notes from last year. what do you think?"

"okay... thank you, doyoung."

"for the record, you have me in your life, too. i'll always be here for you."

in the first session, you woke up from your deep slumber with only 15 minutes to spare from the scheduled time, but thankfully, your tutor only lives one floor down with the rest of the 3rd-years. bringing nothing with you but a pen and a pad of paper, your textbooks were destroyed as some students from your batch thought it'd be fun to throw them into the lake to "honor" your friend.

you offer a small smile when taeyong opens the door, sporting an oversized shirt and track pants, eyes wide in shock when he sees you. "hi? can i help you?"

"hello! i'm here for doyoung. he's tutoring —"

"he doesn't live here anymore. his mom bought him a place outside the campus."

what?

"i'm sorry for disturbing you, then. do you by any chance know where he lives?"

that's weird. doyoung never mentioned he's already moved out. you feel a wee bit irritated that he forgot to tell you; it would've saved you the embarrassment of interacting with the varsity player. you weren't stupid, you can see the hints of repulsion in taeyong's eyes the moment he opened that door and saw you standing before him, no doubt thinking about: oh, look, it's the crazy murderer with a fucked up family standing in front of me.

he had shut the door in your face. you stood awkwardly for a good minute in the hallway until the door reopens, taeyong handing you a small piece of paper with doyoung's new address scribbled hurriedly in black ink. he doesn't give you a chance to thank him for he's already closed the door again without another word.

you opted walking to his place instead of catching a ride because the money you have on you is enough to buy yourself dinner. to say the least, the apartment building is mediocre, not too grand, nor is it too rundown. double-checking the floor level written on the paper before pushing the elevator's button, you then realize doyoung lives on the very top floor of the building.

the hallways are painted a boring brown. some acrylic number signs plastered on the doors are broken, hanging vertically with one screw left. it says on the paper he resides in room 720. taking the right hallway, you mentally count as you eye the mahogany doors. 718… 719… there it is!

when you raise a fist to start knocking on his door, there is a tinge of hesitation surging through you. perhaps being alone with a boy in his apartment is not the best setting for a girl like you should end up in, but this is doyoung we're talking about. if he had ill intentions for you, it would've manifested a long time ago. you shake your head, feeling bad for thinking of him that way as you slowly knock on his front door. not long after, it swings open, revealing the 3rd-year in a white shirt and boxers as he lazily dries his hair off with a small towel.

"you're late," is the first thing he says to you before spinning on his heel to disappear further into his humble abode.

"you didn't exactly inform me you've moved out of the dorms. so, whose fault is it?" you retaliate, inviting yourself in and closing the front door shut.

"whatever. let's get started!" he plops himself on the floor, coffee table filled with loose papers as he struggles to find a specific one amongst the mess. "i've already scanned, exported to pdf, and emailed you my notes. it should be in your inbox by now. anyway, answer this quiz i made so i know what i'll be working on."

"you didn't really have to send your notes, doyoung. i could've just read everything from the textbook," you sit down across from him because otherwise, you'll be too distracted to remember information.

a thought crosses his mind. with what textbook?

"i just think it's missing some essence. that's why i love reading over other psych books in the library for fun. be grateful, those notes are like my babies and i don't simply give them to anyone," he looks at you pointedly. "they've all been summarized and explained in layman's terms so you wouldn't have to spend grueling hours of reading and trying to make sense of the big words as i did — i know that's not the definition of 'fun' normally, but it is for me, and that's why i do it."

"okay, doyoung. you sound so defensive when there's nothing to be defensive about," you tease, feeling pleased with the hint of red on his cheeks as he averts his gaze from yours, muttering incoherent words under his breath.

you spent the following tuesdays, thursdays, and sundays like that; hours upon hours with no one but your tutor, laptops with tangled chargers, a printed copy of his babies, and a mountain pile of loose papers filled with the specialized quizzes doyoung makes to measure your progress. the location varies from a cafe or his flat. but in what you've gathered from the time you spent with him, doyoung's a homebody. cafe tutor sessions are rare, and he always complained about how "noisy" the atmosphere was — "i can't stand it."

but the conversation hadn't always been about academics.

sure, for the first few sessions, doyoung kept an image of professionalism and had heavily insisted on it — "it's for your learning experience!" — despite your lighthearted teasing. but as time passed and he eventually grew more comfortable in your presence, you find the strict 15-minute break he had initially imposed between 45 minutes of studying turned into hours of talking about whatever; how he likes his eggs in the morning, your favorite coffee brew, his favorite show, your strongest pet peeve.

and you wholly welcomed the change, not minding that it's practically dark out whenever you go back to your miserable dorm. you feel butterflies in your stomach whenever doyoung offers to walk you home but never had you taken his offer, still cautious of other people seeing you both together despite his constant reassurances. you've already thoroughly ruined your image. you didn't want to ruin his, too.

kdy the cute tutor, 2:14 pm —last day of midterms! & its all majors today —good luck —remember what i taught u —lets get ice cream after u cant say no

you shake your head bemusedly. his texting style is the most doyoung thing he does and it's as if you can hear him say these things to you in real life. too caught up in your own world, you fail to detect another student sitting next to you and had nearly fallen off your chair in shock when they spoke.

"why are your notes like that?"

you fight the urge to glare at the person, especially when you turn your head and see lee jeno looking at you in genuine curiosity. he's the only batchmate that treats you a wee bit nicer among the rest. although he isn't technically your friend, at least he doesn't look at you like you're a piece of bubblegum stuck under his shoe like all the others.

"what do you mean?"

"they're… the definitions are all jumbled up. where did you even get that?"

what? jumbled up? doyoung himself said these notes are a combination of most of the psychology books he had read last year concerning his subjects. how would it be jumbled up? then again, lee jeno was not tutored by the prodigy himself. maybe things are bound to seem "jumbled up" when information is too great to understand for a feeble mind.

just as you were about to claim these notes aren't yours, the professor has already waltzed into the classroom with a thick wad of papers — the exams. after one last concerned glance directed your way, jeno averts his gaze with a confused tilt of the head.

hours later, you walk out of the classroom with the biggest smile on your face. aced it, you thought. your hands feel numb with how much you wrote on the essay portion but it's worth it if it meant you get the full 25 points, which you no doubt will as it was a topic you surely tackled with doyoung. speaking of... he sure is a man of his word.

"what are you doing here?" you hiss, head ducked with hair framing your face as to not draw attention from the rest of the students filing out of the testing hall.

"i texted you that we're getting ice cream. remember?"

"i did. but i didn't remember agreeing."

he shoots you a comforting smile, planting his hands firmly on your shoulder. “i told you, y/n. i don't care if they all see us together, so what? we all know you didn't commit that crime and it wasn't your fault you were born into the family you had. i don't care about the trivial things, baby, so don't shy away from me, okay?"

how the fuck can you say 'no' when he's looking at you the way he is as he brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear? doyoung's just so bewitching that he has you wrapped around his slender fingers. he seems pleased when you stumbled over your words as you come up with a reply, caught off guard by his bold gestures.

"i just — you, uhh — fine..." you gave in, rolling your eyes out of pretense.

he just had to call you 'baby' and erupt the butterflies in your stomach.

it had been doing that for the last few months now and it had only truly manifested today when he took you out for ice cream to celebrate the end of hell week. and since you didn't want to go back to your dorm yet, you asked if you guys can watch some movies in his house but it had simply become background noise to your heart-to-heart talks. and what better accompaniment than the classic, chicken and beer?

you listen to him drone on and on about the little realizations he had on some of his past lectures even when you barely understood anything he's saying. doyoung's so lucky to be extremely good at something he's so passionate about, talks about the human mind and the complexity of a person's behavior will never fail to make his eyes light up in interest.

he calls out your name.

your eyes snap open.

"why don't we get you home? it's past 10 and it's alright, stupid, you don't need to pretend to be interested in my psychological findings." he chuckled light-heartedly, stealing the can of the now room-temperature beer from your hands before you can protest.

"i wasn't dozing off, i swear."

"i caught you in the act. stop lying."

like all the other times he has you as his guest, doyoung once again offers to walk you home and you decline for the thousandth time. it really isn't that much of a long walk anyway. you don't see the need for him to go out of his way to secure your safety. plus, you were the one who insisted on hanging out in his house anyway. you weren't that thick-skinned to let him take you home, too.

"you're drunk!" he scolds.

“no, i’m not. i can perfectly handle myself."

"but —"

"bye!"

you feel a little guilty for shutting the door in his face. still, a minute longer of his persistence and you would've taken his offer. unfortunately for doyoung, you are one stubborn girl. only if you don't make brisk movements with your head, then you won't see doubles. you'll be fine, it's just a quick walk and it's not as if you're stupid enough to pass by deserted alleys.

but you had underestimated the divine prowess of your fucked up fate.

everything happened in a matter of three seconds; one, the blinding headlights illuminate your path from behind; two, you hear the loud honk, and as you turn around — three, the vehicle sends you rolling against the asphalt.

you should have taken the alleyways.

for his second act;

he alters your reality.

when you open your eyes, you thought you were dead and your spirit is wandering elsewhere �� because you don't believe in trivial things like heaven and god — until an agitated doyoung comes into view. for a split second, you thought, is he dead, too?

"i'm not dead, you idiot." too dazed, you hardly register his anger. "i can perfectly handle myself, she said. i'm not drunk, she said. this wouldn't have happened if you had simply let me walk you home! you're damn fucking lucky you're alive and breathing right now!"

a person clears their throat.

"i don't think it wise to… nag at the patient the moment she wakes. don't you agree, sir?"

pink splotches on doyoung's cheek as he looks down, embarrassed at getting scolded as he stands closer to your bed. "i'm sorry, doc."

you didn't know when your vision cleared or when you started hearing normally again, but it was enough to find out what exactly had transpired on the very night of your tragic accident. a hit and run. fifty-fifty chance of surviving. doyoung getting a call from the hospital in the middle of the night —"they were trying to contact your dad, but he wasn't answering. i was the last person in your call history."

six months in a coma. but today, you wake… only to find out your world has crashed and burned.

"what do you mean i lost my scholarship?"

"baby, listen to me —"

"why did they take it away? is it because of my accident? i'm behind by one term only and i swear i can catch up. they need to let me back in the program. there must've been some mistake —"

"your gpa didn't reach the cut-off grade."

that can't be possible.

"but you tutored me!" you claim with conviction, pointing an accusatory finger at him until you groan, bowing in pain as you clutch your head.

doyoung springs into action. the chair's legs screech against the tiles as he jumps to your aid, ushering you gently back against the hospital bed despite your refusal. "you're not well. lay back down, please."

you don't hear a single word he says, not when you had lost something so crucial. "i put in the effort and learned everything you taught me... i aced those fucking mid-terms! i know i did!" you were on the brink of tearing up as doyoung settled himself in front of you.

"i… i actually saw your papers," his lips set in a thin, hard-line. "everything was all wrong, sweetheart. what happened to you? i tried reasoning with the professors, mentioned your state — you know, with your best friend dying — but they didn't relent. i'm sorry y/n. i'm so —"

gone. everything is gone. the money. the dorm. what if they ask you to pay the fees from last year? what if they ask you to pay the tuition fee for this year? you have no money, no family, no relatives. no one to help. who's even going to pay for the hospital fees?

you weren't able to process anything after that. not with the sudden news of your now revoked scholarship. doyoung pulls you in a tight hug. "i was a bad tutor," he says, snapping you out of it. "maybe i shouldn't have pushed you that hard to learn them. why were your answers even mixed up y/n? i thought you knew those topics already…"

he pulls away, observing your confused state as your eyes dart everywhere in the room. "what — how are they mixed up? i know i got them right. there has to be some mistake. you taught me those topics, remember?"

"i did... "he averts his gaze. "but i don't remember teaching them to you mixed up, darling. i think you did that all on your own."

"but… why would i mix up my answers? that's —"

"see, what i mean?" he cuts you off, raising a hand to give your cheek the most delicate caress. "you're not well, baby. you need to be treated, especially with how much you hit your head during the accident. don't worry, i'm here. we'll try asking if you can stay in the dorms at least until you find another place —"

"am i a charity case to you?"

oh, the surprise on the junior's face when you push him away as you pin him with a hard stare. you just don't get it. why is kim doyoung so adamant about helping you? in becoming your hero, even when you never asked him to be? if you let him help you this time around, that'll be the 3rd time he came to save your ass. it's not as if you're ungrateful. simply, you've had enough of his help. you don't know how a person like you, who literally has nothing, can return the favor to someone like doyoung.

"what are you saying —"

"i'm saying…" you fix him a hard stare. "you helping me out doesn't even benefit you in the slightest. so why do you do it?"

he pauses, staring at you with hesitance in his eyes as this seems to be the very first time you've truly seen him speechless. when doyoung opens his mouth, he mumbles, and you hardly make sense of what he said.

"do you really want to know why?"

you urge him on with an arched eyebrow, his softened tone creeping into your heart.

"you're someone special to me y/n. i don't know how or when i admitted it to myself, but you are, and it hurts me to see how shitty your luck is," he cracks a small grin, slowly settling back onto the hospital bed as he grabs your hand. "it's okay to seek help from others. it isn't a sign of vulnerability or weakness. i help you because i want to, and i'm more than willing to take care of you. will you let me?"

you're not blind. you've noticed the way he had slowly started coming closer as he continued to speak, hands held securely in his as he looked straight at your eyes then down at your lips. and so, you act in a way you know that will surely answer his question — with a kiss.

the man before you immediately reciprocates, overpowering your own eagerness as he curls the tips of his fingers into the roots of your hair. he pulls you close, cradling you against his chest. you can taste his desperation in the way his tongue dances against yours, the kiss transporting you into an alternate reality where your world revolves around doyoung and doyoung alone.

when he pulls away bleary-eyed, both of you ignore the thin strand of saliva connecting your lips. "how about you come live with me for the time being, my love?"

still high off his kiss and natural scent, you hardly mull over the question he asks you. "okay."

days later, after you've been discharged (he wanted to chip in for your hospital bills but you had given him a firm no), doyoung had been the one to show up at the dorm to collect all your things after leaving you in his apartment. the cutie had refused to simply drop you off and had deliberately accompanied you up the elevator, through the halls, and finally into his apartment.

"i'll be out for just a minute, sugarcube."

"oh, can you get take out?"

doyoung had smiled, playfully booping the tip of your nose. "no, because i'll be cooking for us tonight as a little celebration for you getting discharged. you'll love it; i'm making your favorite!"

it was funny how the night had been nothing but utter bliss. the foreign feeling of being taken care of sprouting in your chest as you watch him cooking from behind the counter. it felt… nice. but funny enough, as if doing a 360, you both had immediately gotten into an argument the next day.

"i don't see the need for skipping another day if i feel perfectly fine! i'll figure something out once we get there, doyoung, so can we just —"

"you' re not fine, babylove — hell, you got discharged yesterday! i'm not just about to let you back into the arena with those students. they've only grown more immature since your coma, love. i seriously don't want you near them."

"fine! then i won't talk to them. simple." you throw your hands up. "there. problem solved. now, can we please just go to uni? i need to talk to the dean and the head of student affairs, too —"

"i'm going to uni, not you."

maybe it had been the way he firmly stated his claim, the way his eyes pierced through your soul as if daring you to argue further with him that made you snap.

"i'm not a prisoner in this apartment, doyoung! don't treat me like i have the plague! i'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself — jesus christ, i've been doing it nearly half my fucking life!"

too caught up in your anger, you've failed to notice the tears pouring down his face as he sets his gaze on the floor.

"you're right," his voice cracks. "i shouldn't be pushy like that. i'm sorry. you just mean so much to me and i'm so scared of losing you again. with your coma — i just — it's like i was fighting a losing battle each day that passed when i saw you in that hospital bed. i've never felt so scared in my whole life and i hated myself for not being able to protect you that night."

his tears run like waterfalls, and when you step forward with your arms wide open, doyoung sobs harder as he pulls you against him. you hardly comprehend what he says as he spoke, shaking against your frail body as you felt his tears stain your blouse. "i'm sorry, i never should've dictated what you felt — i'm so sorry."

"no, it's okay. i was feeling a little lightheaded, anyway. i'll stay here and i can come back to school next semester, right? doyoung? just… please stop crying."

he lifts his head, staring at you with bloodshot eyes before giving your forehead a kiss. you let a relieved sigh escape your lips, melting into his warmth as you prop your chin on his shoulder. if you had only been more attentive, you would've seen the reflection of his wicked grin on the tabletops. too easy.

living with him became a blur after that incident. everything fell into a routine for the next four days as you spent the day watching netflix, eating, reading, sleeping. nothing felt fun anymore. but your peaceful life had ceased during the fifth night — the whispers, they woke you up. you can hear them from behind your door at night, and when you rouse awake, you see doyoung walking around the hallway from the tiny gap at the bottom of the door. you had sighed, falling back into your plush bed as you pray to god, he keeps it down.

but what he told you the next day rendered you speechless. "me, walking around the hallways? whispers?" he says, confused. "i was already asleep, love. knocked out cold the moment my body fell on the bed."

"but…"

he doesn't spare you a glance as he takes his sweet time skimming through his notes on the dining table, coffee in one hand. "maybe it's just the meds kicking in."

"no, surely it was real! i literally woke up in the middle of the night," you repeat. "it's okay if it was you, doyoung. i'm not mad."

he sets his coffee mug down a little too loud.

"well, you can't be mad at me, sugar, because like i said — it wasn't me," it doesn't take a genius to notice he's awfully cranky today. you observe him, dark half-moons under his eyes as he relentlessly reads his notes with instant coffee in one hand.

"you're just imagining things, okay? stop acting crazy."

for some reason, the way he had uttered certain words like 'imagining' and 'crazy' made you curl into your seat in embarrassment. he was right that your doctor did prescribe a generous amount of pills per day, but his tone made it feel off, made you feel like there was something wrong with you even when there wasn't…

right?

you didn't say a word after that and had hesitantly pecked him on the cheek before he left for school. with the amount of time you're with him, two things stood out to you — his keen sense of observation and his knack for reading people. you highly doubt he didn't notice a shift in your behavior but a part of you thinks it's just the stress talking. he is about to take his finals and had recently started on his research paper.

every psych student is required to present a paper in accordance with the department's annual theme. it could be anything from proposing a theory (if you dare) to constructing a well-developed psychology model. if you don't turn one in, you don't graduate — the paper's that important, and you've been bugging him for so long about sneaking a peek on what his study is about. but he always refused.

the next week came rolling around, and both of you had been spending every day together due to the semestral break. the arguments have significantly lessened, but your episodes — eventually, you started calling it that way because that's how doyoung labels it — have only gotten worse. you end up moving out of the guest room and into his. privacy be damned. the whispers stopped momentarily but what came next became your imminent downfall.

the first time you heard it, you thought you were dreaming. but the doorknob kept rattling aggressively even as you sat up. just as you climb off the bed, your half-asleep boyfriend asks where you're going.

"bathroom," you lied.

you were always the one to snort when it comes to the supernatural, claiming it's all bullshit. yet, as whatever outside continues to fight its way inside the room, the rattling progressing into loud bangs against the door, you're not so sure of your beliefs anymore. you're not crazy. nothing is wrong with you, and you're perfectly fine. this apartment is cursed, and you are going to prove that to doyoung.

grabbing your phone from the bedside table, you turn the flash on, pointing the camera at the door as you take a footage of the mad entity that has been playing games with you. a squeal escapes your lips when a particular bang! reverberates louder in the room than all the others. the phone slips your hand, falling onto the floorboards. you don't bother to retrieve it as you scramble to get yourself back under the blanket and into doyoung's comfortable warmth.

you snuggle yourself plush against his chest, shaking as you wrap your arms around his waist, inhaling his natural scent to anchor you back.

bang! bang! bang!

you didn't get a wink of sleep last night.

"can't the video wait? there's a new episode of start-up, and i want to watch it already!" he whines, shoving his face further on the throw pillow situated on your lap.

you giggle, shaking your head as you scroll through your gallery to find the video. i'm not imagining things. i'm not hallucinating. i'm not crazy. "here! watch... i'm telling you this apartment is haunted, and the ghost probably likes you, which is why it doesn't bother you —"

your lighthearted rambling cuts off when you notice no sound emitting from your phone. weird. you could've sworn you started recording right when the loud banging has already started. your heart drops upon the wary stare doyoung shoots you before he continues to watch the video.

no, no, no, no — please!

you quickly scoot over to his side, watching as the video unfolds before your very eyes. the shot was messy as the phone was handheld, not to mention you were panicking at the time. but the video is silent. not a single noise of a rattling doorknob or banging on the door can be heard through your phone's speakers.

"maybe — maybe you didn't turn the volume up?"

you hardly contain the mortification in your face when you realize the volume's at 100 already. and as if on cue, your squeal is heard in the video and the noise of the phone hitting the floor.

doyoung's silence shakes your whole being. as you kneel before him teary-eyed, your voice breaks. "i swear, i'm not crazy."

but at this point, you don't believe yourself anymore.

for his third and final act;

he triumphs.

his deprivation began in minuscule ripples.

it didn't take much effort on doyoung's end to convince you to stop studying for a year or two, at least, only until your hallucinations aren't as severe anymore. everyday felt like hell on earth as the fine line between what's real and what isn't has blurred over one too many times. in sheer paranoia of accidentally hurting him in his sleep, you moved out of his bedroom and had started sleeping in the guest room again — much to doyoung's frustration.

but he's a smart man, one that recognizes an opportunity amidst the hurdles thrown on his path.

"why does my door need a lock outside again?"

he approaches you, who’s sitting cross-legged on the bed, after screwing in the last of the screws that came with the new doorknob. doyoung is familiar with the look written on your face, has observed and studied you enough to navigate his way inside your pretty little head with ease.

he can't have you doubting him, can he?

"you know i'm all about protecting you, right?" he starts. you nodded. "i've been doing it for a year now, and i will continue to do so until you need me to. the world is a bad place, sweetheart, remember? your own best friend's mother tried framing you. your dad disowned you. you've been ostracized in the whole college... do you think i'm just like the rest of them, baby?"

doyoung has already mastered the perfect expression of a kicked-puppy, one that easily pulls at your heartstrings and has you cooing at him.

"no!" you say with conviction, reaching forward to thread your fingers through his. "i know you're different, not like any of them at all. i know you're only doing what's… best for me."

he ignores the underlying hesitance in your tone. that will be corrected, sooner or later.

doyoung tightens his hold as he kisses the back of your hand. such an innocent gesture — but such ill intentions.

"the outside lock helps me in protecting you, love. you don't need to worry about anything. just focus on getting better, alright? i'll keep the bad guys away from you."

it was during his first semester of senior year, a few months back, doyoung and a good few students of his batch had been granted the opportunity to intern for a mental hospital located near the edge of the city. he was supposed to decline the offer but you convinced him to take the spot. it had only been a two-week “job” yet it was enough for doyoung to conclude — he’d rather kill you than subject you to the horrors of what the patients have to go through in the loony bin.

eventually, the small ripples shift into unforgiving waves, dragging you into the depths as everything comes crashing down before your very own eyes.

it should have been like any other day inside the apartment. doyoung's already gone in the morning to attend classes. though not before setting a tray of your brunch on the nightstand, making sure to lock your door on his way out. he knew your nightmares and anxiety kept you up at night, resulting in longer hours of sleep during the day.

turns out, you moving out of his bedroom had been a blessing in disguise. coming home to an empty apartment has become his biggest fear yet, and you unconsciously found a solution for him. one that doesn’t have him fidgeting on his seat as he counts down the minutes ‘til he’s back by your side.

doyoung smiles unconsciously as he listens to his professor drone on and on in front of him — his mind at peace, knowing you're safe and sound in your little prison.

until he received a text that made his blood run cold.

ty, 11:34 am —im done.

meanwhile, you rouse awake once more to thunderous poundings against your bedroom door. oh no, you thought. it's happening again. this time, there'll be no doyoung barging into your room, half-asleep and hair messy, as he tries to calm you down. you throw the blankets over you as you sob, hugging your legs against your chest as you try to 'wake yourself up' from the hallucination.

the person outside calls for your name, the desperation in their tone alighting a new-found fear in your heart. you don't know what's real anymore. is this truly happening, or is it another hallucination your fucked up mind has conjured up?

"please! it's taeyong! y/n, can you hear me?"

taeyong?

slowly, your head peaks above the blanket, warily staring at the door. doyoung has warned you about these kinds of things, has practically ingrained in your mind that whoever comes looking for you will take you away from him. not to mention, doyoung slipped one time and said he isn’t friends with taeyong anymore.

the banging on the door progresses.

“are you in there? answer me! i can’t find the key!”

you don’t say anything, merely pushing the covers off your body as you keep your eyes fixed on the beating door. it looks like it’s about to pop out its hinges as taeyong relentlessly fights his way inside your room. what are you going to do? do you open the door? oh. right. you can’t do that on your own accord. the key is with doyoung and he isn’t in the apartment at the moment.

all your thoughts come to a halt when the boy outside sends the door flying open, finally breaking the lock with one powerful kick. you flinch back, his actions pushing you on your feet, wanting to place a maximum amount of distance from the intruder.

taeyong looks frantic, disheveled as he immediately notices your alarmed state. he approaches you cautiously, hands up to show his empty palms. “hey, hey… it’s just me, y/n. i’m not going to hurt you. i’m not the enemy here.”

“doyoung doesn’t know you’re here, does he?”

the look of surprise on his face is an answer in itself. for someone doyoung had proudly claimed to have “broken” you’re still quite quick to catch up on things, taeyong observed. and he doesn’t know what to feel about it — pity? guilt?

“that’s not important!” he claims, boldly surging forward to grasp your shoulders with a firm grip. taeyong felt his heart dropping when you flinch under his grasp.

“listen to me. we need to get you out of here. doyoung isn’t — he isn’t everything you thought he is!” he can’t help but raise his voice, panic surging through him because there’s not much time left and you aren’t exactly cooperating. you’ve been trying to shrug off his hold the whole time.

“do you think he actually loves you?”

“he does! stop saying bullshit!”

“doyoung never loved anyone and you want to know why? because he’s too in love with his research to care for anything else!” taeyong felt bad to have been so direct, especially when he sees the tears now falling freely down your cheeks. “listen to me, y/n! i’m not the enemy! if there’s anyone you should be pushing away, it’s doyoung! he turned you into his lab rat! you are nothing but a variable in his study! don’t you get it?”

taeyong grabs a firm but gentle hold of your head, trying to make you look at him straight in the eye for the gravity of what he’s about to say to you.

“doyoung had his eye on you since sophomore year. i told him this was a bad idea and that he should change the topic of the research and he was. fucking hell, he was about to scrap the whole thing until your bestfriend died and did you know what that psycho told me? that it was a sign for him to continue the research! and i’ve been pestering him so much that he moved out because he claimed i was going to get in the way of his discovery.

tell you what, if you can tell me right here, right now, that he has mentioned anything — anything at all — about his study to you then everything i’m saying is a lie.”

you have asked doyoung for the longest time about that research but the answers have always been the same. “not yet, my love. it’s not time for it to be seen with your eyes. soon, okay?”

with a voice not louder than a whisper, you ask. “what… what’s his research about?”

you fail to see the sorry look on taeyong’s face. “in psychology, they say a person only develops psychosis mainly through genetics or drugs. although you’re technically already a worthy “lab rat” considering your mom and upbringing, he wanted to expand the external factors of what causes the disorder — grief, grades, toxic family relations…”

you hear a ringing in your ear and a sudden urge to throw up. only, you didn’t have anything to hurl because your brunch remains untouched on your bedside.

“but he hadn’t been successful. and that’s… that’s where i came along. doyoung thought the medications he’s been giving you isn’t doing what he wanted it to and he knew he needed a little push. i was… i gave him that push. remember the whispers, the banging on the door at night? it was all me. he made me do it. you know what that means, right? you’re not crazy. you don’t need to stay here cooped up like some kind of pet, believing all his lies as if it’s written in a fucking bible —”

he stops. and if he hadn’t, you wouldn’t’ve heard the familiar beeps of the front door’s automated lock going off. doyoung’s home.

in lightning speed, taeyong has you sheltered behind him, throwing his warm coat over you in the process, hoping to give the smallest comfort amidst the chaos that’s about to erupt. there’s no point in pretending or hiding — one look at that lock and his crazy friend would know something’s off.

taeyong feels you flinching behind him with every heavy footstep against the floorboards as doyoung wastes no time in getting to your room. and when he finally appears, hands braced against the door frame, you’ve never been this scared your whole life. his eyes are drawn into slits, fixated on taeyong alone. “how fucking dare you?”

“it’s over, doyoung. give it up or you wouldn’t have to suffer a longer sentence than you’ll already get.” taeyong tried with his whole being to appear intimidating.

“what’re you saying, yong? i meant, how fucking dare you barge in here and disturb my girlfriend in her sleep? that’s not very nice of you…” doyoung sports a disarming gummy smile as he approaches, hand outstretched and beckoning towards you. “c’mere, baby. i don’t think you’ve eaten lunch yet?”

“drop the fucking act, you psycho!”

“what act?” doyoung tilts his head innocently, gaze shifting from taeyong’s and yours, who keeps peeking from over his ex-friend’s shoulder. luring you out is a piece of cake unless taeyong decides to make things a wee bit more complicated, doyoung thought. “i’m just concerned for my darl —”

“we’re leaving.” taeyong cuts him off, breaking eye contact as he places a firm grip around your wrist. he pulls you towards him, farther away from your supposed lover as he tries walking past doyoung.

but the said man pushes taeyong back with a humorless smile on his face. “and who told you that you can do that?”

a pregnant silence befalls the room as the two men size each other up. they regard each other with such hostility, you can't help but unconsciously fist the back of taeyong's sweater in nervousness, prompting the man to turn his head over his shoulder for a swift second to check up on you.

but a second is all that doyoung needed to deliver the first kick towards taeyong's legs, throwing him off his balance. if it was one thing doyoung knew, is that he needed to eliminate taeyong's agility all together if he wants to win against him.

but taeyong isn't one to back down. the moment doyoung straddles him on the floor, with a fist raised to throw a punch, taeyong grunts as he rolls them around. doyoung now receiving taeyong's rain of fists as he yells. "fuck you! you manipulative asshole!"

you sat on the corner, horrified of the scene happening before you. you've never seen doyoung this way. he has always been your sweet, caring bunny, but after everything taeyong said, you aren't so sure you even know the man you've been living with.

"everything i did, i did it for her!" you flinch at the sound of bones breaking as doyoung kicked taeyong's ribs. "she had nothing to lose! i saved her!"

the door is open, you noticed. wide-open and inviting you to make a run for it. and you would have made a run for it... but taeyong. you can't leave him behind, not when he lays there bloody and grunting in pain as doyoung lets his anger take over him. so, as stupid as may be, you did it. you had to.

"you didn't save me," you say, schooling your face into indifference as doyoung whips around, forgetting about taeyong in the bat of an eye. "you caged me in here, treated me like there's something wrong with me, gaslighted me into believing everything you said! and... what did you say? 'saved me'? you made me go through hell!"

the whole time, taeyong tries his hardest to stand upright, but his broken ribs don't allow him to. the pain too great that he had no choice but to crawl instead, arms pulling his weight as he drags himself across the floorboards, desperately trying to get doyoung's attention back on him even if it meant getting beaten to death.

meanwhile, he had his eyes trained on you the whole time you spoke, sobbing as you walk backward in fear as doyoung approached you with a dark glint in his eye. he doesn't like what you're saying; that much is very clear. he wanted to yell at you, to scream of your ungratefulness despite his constant care but instead, he says.

"i thought we were making progress, baby. i guess i have to drill everything in your brain again. you're not okay, but you will be after i treat you."

you try to fight the urge to look at taeyong as he finds his strength, silently rising up from the floor to ambush doyoung while he's so busy preaching about you.

"what i said is true, baby. do you actually think this scum over here is doing this to save you? do you actually believe everything he said? i've been here since day-1, my love. literally. and have i ever let you down? no. everything i'm doing is for us. even this damned research!"

taeyong surges forward to put him in a chokehold, but everything happened so fast, and the next thing you knew —

"did you actually think i'd fall for that?"

you didn't know the sound of a knife cutting through flesh could sound that loud, but nothing could beat the strained gasp that tumbled through taeyong's lips as he shakily held the knife pierced through his heart. you would've been concerned about how doyoung got it so accurate in one go or where the knife even came from. but you were too busy screaming, collapsing against the wall as you let out a broken sob.

"no," you mutter. "no, no, no..."

you can't bear to avert your eyes from taeyong as he lies dying before you. the look of fear in his eyes would forever be ingrained in your mind, and no amount of brainwashing or gaslighting would ever make you forget.

doyoung killed him. you lost.

the knife clatters loudly on the floor as he slowly turns around as if he himself has yet to register what he did. you didn't know what to expect from doyoung's reaction but certainly not the eerie smile that starts spreading on his face.

"now... how about that lunch, baby?"

✉ : a repost no one asked but i respectfully dont give a fuck <3

#hmu if i missed a warning #yandere doyoung #yandere kpop #yandere nct #yandere nct 127 #tw swearing #tw manipulation #tw violence #tw knife

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lovee-infected · 5 years ago

Text

♦ Anon asked ~ Okay how would guys and their darling react to being slapped by Eliza? Feel free to write for any of those who got slapped ^^ Gender is neutral

Aaa this one was really sweet so I did it for all guys (who got slapped-)

I reached my 10 pic limit and had to sacrifice twins ixkskxksos

[note : re-posted his because my tags weren't working]

♦♥♠♣

Poor boy remained silent for a few minutes after that mess with ghost princess , still unable to talk

His cheeks are flushed that proved him being embarrassed , making him look greatly...cute

Just as much as you loved seeing softer sides of him you can't see him this sad , so now it is your responsibility to lift him up

He is upset with both failing to help and being an idiot in front of Eliza

The whole thing proved how soft he can actually be , which fascinated you . You hadn't ever thought of him being like this ; shy and... helplessly childish with girls

Deuce is a bit worried with the way you see him now , he doesn't want his picture ruined . But as a matter of fact you like him even more now , he could be serious and strict at times but still , he's a soft boy inside

You ask if he feels any shy around you and it makes him turn his head away to add a nervous : " M...me? Absolutely not- why would I .??"

You now know that he actually does but it isn't something he needs to hide , that actually makes him look awfully cute

He still seems sad though so you give him a small kiss on forehead , making him blush even harder

Well even if he's shy with you you aren't ; after all he is your boy

Trey himself couldn't help laughing at what had happened. He tried his best to be a gentleman , and he really was . But seems like Eliza had more different standards than he was expecting

Trey's mind just wasn't ready to go from his normal self to a high-level prince , but he doesn't find singing a part of a prince's duties either

"My my , it really messed up," he says as he joins you and the others in the losers' bench

You knew that the proposal was all fake , but Trey just wasn't one who could act it all ; he didn't have Vil's pure talent of an actor or Leona's charm of a prince , yet he did his very best

You tell that you really liked the way he presented himself , pretty much of a mature young man he really is and he gets blessed . He isn't much of a romantic guy and he appreciates that you like him as he is

You give him a "Ghost bride surely lost a great option , " to lift him up and it did , making him wink adding : " Well, perhaps she knew that I have a better one myself ,"

Finally after posting 34 pics of his slapped face along with other supplies such as his fake tears , dead flowers and some broken-hearted captions with tons of #Ghostbride #Puishmentoflove #illfate #brokenheart and and and you managed to have him looking off his phone for a second

You tell how he's making an issue out of nothing but he'll just laugh : " Who cares that it's all fake ? Teens are gonna love it ! ,"

He must be thankful that Eliza didn't see this part pf him or he should've spammed pics of his broken legs and hands instead

He takes the best advantage of being slapped and you wonder how he's just being all excited about it , what if the same thing happens while he's seriously proposing to someone ?

You ask if it bothers him , the feeling of being rejected and he goes silent for a moment not looking at his phone but the ground now , perhaps thinking of an logical answer

You drop your head regretting what you asked and then , he cuts you off with a small kiss on your cheek : " That's simple , my dear (y/n). Not a single soul likes being rejected no matter what the reason is , so that's why I always make sure that I won't get rejected before asking ; today was just an exception ,"

You get a bit confused at the answer , wanting him to give you an example

He slightly smirks before adding :" Well , ‌you didn't reject me , did you ?"

For the heaven's sake ; you couldn't be any more thankful that he got rejected . From the very moment they announced that princess was looking for a prince you feared of her picking Leona , a real prince

Leona is already prince charming of his home town ; Not a single soul could say no to him

The second he got slapped , his eyes - You were trying to feel sorry about it but the way he glared at Eliza as if he was a chubby cat pushed into water ; it was beyond hilarious

Leona has his own ways when it comes to attracting ladies , making him almost irresistible to many including you , but not the ghost bride

He seems really pissed off at the whole thing ; not that he liked the ghost bride that much , he just hates being rejected

With him being a growling cat for the rest of day , you decide to spoil him a little ; letting him take naps on your lap and rubbing back of his ears make him a whole lot better , but he won't say a word of satisfaction

You are used to his cringy behaviors and can't help loving them , you are really thankful that your cat would still be all yours - even if it was supposed to be a fake marriage

He just - Froze

Sword skills ? Were they a thing he lacked ? Was it just one of those royal fancy rules or could it be a serious problem ? He now was concerned

You found him getting slapped pretty unfair since not many these days are familiar with sword skills ; but there were no argues on that point since Eliza once lived as a girl from more than 500 years ago , so she surely ends up having more complicated standards comparing to you

You tell Jack about it and that it's fine , but he refuses to believe

He had heard of Sebek together with Silver being well-trained sword men which meant that this tradition still remained necessary , so he now is seriously thinking about picking it up

You couldn't blame him though , once he feels like he needs to be stronger that's it ; but you don't want him overwork himself

You insist that sword skills are pretty silly to him while he's got his powerful fists and the secret unleash the beast , but he still seems to have a doubt about it

Since he looks pretty certain with his choice , you don't try to stop him but you make promise that he wouldn't overwork himself , which he does

He intends to get stronger to protect his beloved ones , including you so there was nothing that could hold him back if it was because of you

♦♥♠♣ Jade Leech

Jade still doesn't get why Eliza didn't like the flowers , yes he didn't like them either but aren't flowers ladies' most appreciated gift ? How confusing , he thought

You slap the ice-pack against his face , just who on earth would give away unwanted flowers from his terrarium as a bouquet ?

Jade doesn't get why he shouldn't have , he was benefitting both himself and Eliza , right ? Or could that be that surface girls followed different romance traditions from underwater ? He needed more information then

He asks for ways to make a girl fall in love , which made you laugh , you told that if he's going to retry the thing with Eliza , he would end up needing way more than one ice-pack

He agrees with you on that point , so he wonders if he can practice tactics with you since you are a pretty gentle and calm partner , and it makes you blush

You tell him to focus on not being slapped again as long as this ghost marriage lasts and in return , you then can teach him some tricks with ladies

♦♥♠♣ Floyd Leech

He didn't really like Eliza from the very beginning so there was no way the two of them would end up together even if he wasn't slapped

Floyd isn't into this type of girls which are too strict and loud ; he prefers softer and cuter types , something he can dominant

You expect him to get moody and pissed off , but he just doesn't seem to care

thanks to him Jade as well got slapped -very hard- and that successfully lifted his mood up

You ask him if he wants to take a walk and he agrees in deal of you paying for his candy , and you gladly agree

The two of you have candies together and make fun of others getting slapped back there

Both of you agree on Jade's expression being way more hilarious than Azul's

When you finally get back to others trying to find a way , he whispers into your ears : " If I ever were to propose to someone , I'd prefer it to be to someone like you"~

Man , he's really pissed off. Talking too much will usually be beneficial while dealing on a contract , mostly because of the way it confuses dealers and gives them an unconscious vibe causing them to believe you ; strange yet helpful

Azul hadn't thought of proposing being this different from making contracts , and it was odd to him

He now is supposed to be looking for a way to save his boardgames club friend , but another thought keeps haunting him :

What are the correct ways of... making someone fall for you ? To attract a lady ? Isn't having a good face and using sweet words like enough ? He needed more lessons if he wanted to be an ideal dealer

You sigh as his serious replies , disappointed to see how he really had no idea about emotional terms

You tell him how life isn't always about business and benefitting , but sometimes about feelings and well , loving

He mumbles saying how useless emotions are , a waste of time and brain cells to him

You suggest teaching him more about emotional situations which may be helpful , and charming to others , which sounds like a great deal to him , but he doesn't accept you giving it to him for free, saying that you as well must set a price

You aren't really sure what to ask , so you just want him to invite you to a fancy dinner after having this case with the ghost bride solved

Just as you hear the sound of him getting slapped , you know that it was bad news

Vil is trying his best to be calm but...it doesn't really seem to be working . His fist's shaking in anger as if he's gonna slam it against the wall or maybe someone . He got rejected and he couldn't take it ; he

wasn't one to accept such a thing

Although he isn't a real prince , he had anything needed to be a real one : Elegance , Charm , Nobility and maturity ; he was perfect

He is really furious now , specially thinking at how Lilia intended to avoid Malleus from showing up in fear of his high chance of being accepted . He wasn't one to say that he would surpass Malleus , but he wasn't any lower than him either: if a dog was the only reason he got rejected then Malleus as well would've been...but wait- doesn't it mean that Idia too shouldn't have been chosen since he loves cats ?

In that case..it must've had another reason : He wasn't good enough

You knew that Vil would never be satisfied no matter how many times you told him that he was already gorgeous , he wanted to be better

It was useless trying to take his mind away from being rejected through the same ways so you had to sacrifice yourself :

You go to Vil asking is he can join you for a second -until others get slapped try to propose because you are having some... beauty issues

You try to get him talking to you as much as possible ,from importance of having an organized sleep schedule to forbidding laughing too much since it will bring you wrinkles

You know that if there's one thing that Vil would always be proud of , that would be speaking of his high-key beauty skills which he couldn't ever get enough of

He could go on all day if Leona didn't cut him off : " Oi , aren't the two of you done yet ?"

Even with Leona pissing him off , he now seems to be a lot better and that was a success for you . Even if he doesn't notice how you were trying to secretly lift his mood up

Lilia is...crying ?

Your heart melts at the sight of his soft tears falling down his pale face , making you as well cry

You don't know why you are being overly emotional but who on earth would slap others because just because of being too cute ?!

You can't help but to be mad at Eliza , wanting to punch her in the face just as she did to Lilia , but Lilia stops you , wondering why you might want to do such a thing

You angrily express how unfair you think what she did was , telling that she shouldn't be treaten las if she has the right to do whatever she'd like

"Just HOW is cuteness considered to be a bad thing ?!" you argue , loud enough to gain attention to yourself . Lilia takes you out before Eliza could've heard

He then sits beside you , trying to see what could've been wrong with you ; were you sick or just in a bad mood maybe ? He couldn't tell

" I'm sorry I just , got really mad with what she did and after you cried..." you mumble slowly , making Lilia giggle

" My my darling , I wasn't the only one who got slapped and also , I just cried at how my whole presentation keeps getting ruined by my... appreance . You know , it's a bit frustrating to be called cute after living hundreds of years as a terrifying dark fae ," he says , shaking his head in a playful manner

You are relieved knowing that he wasn't crying of pain or being heartbroken , and now he as well seems to be better

He asks of you're ready to return inside and you quickly agree , admitting that you might have been a bit too emotional

Just before you two get to others , he brings himself closer to ask you something : " You as well agree that I'm cute , don't you ?"

"How dare she- I see now why master Lilia didn't let master Draconia approach - this disgraceful spirits don't deserve having the slightest sight of him..."and and and were the words you keeped up with untill you grew tired which was 20 minutes later . You really wish him to have a turn off button sometimes

Sebek feels really offended specially because he was just about to get to the best part of his speech about Malleus but got slapped in face

The sight of his mouth getting shut as Eliza slapped him was priceless , perhaps she and Malleus were the only ones who had ever got to shut his mouth

When he finally cools down , his puppy side is brought up : " (y/n) , maybe I didn't present myself good enough in front of her and caused her to take young master lightly . Is it my fault ? "

You keep telling him that Eliza just didn't like how he brought Malleus out of nowhere and started to ramble nonsense about him when he was supposed to be proposing

Sebek doesn't take your comment as a polite one at first , bit he had to agree , maybe it would have worked out for her if this ghost knew who the great Malleus Draconia is and that was why it all went wrong

You sigh at how he doesn't get your point at all but you don't say a word , he deeply appreciated Malleus after all ; Thought Malleus had to be removed surgically from him

Since he doesn't seem to be giving up , you say that you'd really like to hear that best part about Malleus , making him flatter and start talking like a parrot again

You don't really care what he says or how great Malleus can actually be , but if that's what makes him happy you are fine with it

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veliseraptor · 3 years ago

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💓, 👀, 👅

Ship that you didn’t expect to ship but now do: 💓

Man, the thing about me is that I'm so incredibly, embarrassingly predictable, including to myself, that I'm almost never surprised by my own ships. Generally speaking it's like. Yep, saw that one coming.

I feel like Mat/Tuon might be sort of an exception, actually? Would not necessarily have expected that one to come for me.

Oh! No, you know what, it is (a) legitimately surprising that Dorothy Dunnett tricked me into getting legitimately emotional about a canon heterosexual ship and (b) frankly incredible that MXTX convinced me to actually really care about a main romantic pairing that's not horrifically dysfunctional! more than once, even. Truly, How Did She Do That. (in fairness, I am more CQL!Wangxian than novel!Wangxian because the dynamic in the former just works for me a bit better, but still, I'm giving her credit anyway.)

I'm not surprised in the cases of JWQS and 2HA about this because those are much more front-facing Dysfunctional with a capital D, so.

Ship that you find most sexy: 👅

Are we talking "most sexy" as in "I find the dynamic most sexy, personally" or "most sexy" as in "I've read the best porn about" because those are sort of distinct in my head.

I feel like I might have to give Songxuexiao the prize on this one actually, because (a) there's a lot of quite good porn for it and (b) it has so many potential sexy dynamics where you can take it in different ways, many of which are very good for me personally.

But if you caught me when I'd been reading some very good Xuexiao or Songxue my answer might change.

I feel like "sexy" in the traditional sense is overall not the first thing I think of when I think of my ships, though, except in the way I'm like "betrayal and deceit and conflicted emotions are sexy" which I feel like is perhaps not in the spirit of this question.

Ship you’re curious about: 👀

Hmm. I'm thinking about this one as, like, ship I want someone to talk me into, and I'm actually having a bit of a hard time thinking of something I really currently don't ship that I'd like someone to get me excited about. Probably there are some and I'm just not thinking of them at the moment.

I guess there are more that it's more like "I have not ventured into reading fic about this and maybe I would like to, if I had more time and motivation to hunt through tags for things", though even those I'm kind of drawing a blank, other than making some kind of concerted search for some of those Jiang Cheng pairings I mentioned being intrigued by in the post the other day.

I'm trying to think of Wheel of Time ships that I might feel this way about, but I fear I may be too set in my ways on this. Although I guess I did come out of my last reread shipping Elan/Min/Rand which was new.

I feel like Moshang is another pairing that I have a very casual interest in but haven't really done a whole lot of concentrated thinking or reading about; maybe that one goes here.

I sort of wonder what's going on with Loki ships these days now that I'm not really paying attention to that fandom, but then again I suspect I don't want to know.

#nikita not nicola #conversating #lise memes

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palimpsessed · 4 years ago

Text

So @captain-aralias did one of these and invited other writers to do the same. And I wasn't really going to because it feels a bit late now and also I've done quite a few other year in review posts for 2020. But then I got to thinking that it would be really nice to have one of these for each year to look back on and compare, which convinced me. So, here we go!

If you’re a writer, I’d also encourage you to steal this. Tag me on your post so I can see your thoughts! 🥰

List of Complete Fics for 2020 1. At the Top of a Tower, With You- General, 900 words 2. Use Your Words- Teen, 16k 3. A Man of Letters, or Five Times Baz Retreats and the One Time He Doesn’t- Teen, 54k 4. To the Manor Borne- Teen, 43k

Total: 4 fics, 113k words

Every one of these fics was written for an event, which, realistically, is the only reason they got finished. I have so many ideas I'm working on all at once, and I came into fandom with a focus on making art, so to actually find the motivation to sit down and write/finish/post a fic was entirely deadline based. And it's a technique I'm sure I will also employ in 2021.

Best/Worst Title?

Well, I've mentioned a few times before that I usually have a title before I have much in the way of a fic concept. I don't really dislike any of the my titles, because they all did exactly what I needed them to do, which was help me focus on what I wanted to accomplish in the fic. Comparatively speaking, though, I can answer this.

Best: Use Your Words - succinct, idiomatic, a book quote/motif that also has the potential to be a spell, does what it says on the tin, is probably what all of us are constantly yelling at Baz and Simon to do throughout the books and the fic itself

(Honorable mention to A Man of Letters because that title forms a perfect heart shape when viewed on mobile on AO3. ❤️)

Worst: At the Top of a Tower, With You - this is also a quote and it fits the fic perfectly, but it is a bit of a mouthful and it has a comma in the middle of it, which, while I love commas, feels a bit off-putting in terms of a title - also, it's always kind of bothered me that it's a Baz WS quote used for a CO-era Lucy POV

Best/worst summary?

Again, I don't really dislike any of my summaries.

Best:

To the Manor Borne: The gang decides to spend Christmas together at Pitch Manor. Romance, hijinks, and holiday cheer ensue.

Anything that lets me use the word hijinks is always good! - it's short and sweet - it does a fair job of setting up the premise for the fic and giving highlights, without giving anything away

Worst: A Man of Letters

I'm not going to include this one because it's so long, I had to cut down the version I posted on tumblr to fit in the AO3 field, which is really why I rank it below my others - it effectively sets up the world of Simon and Baz in Regency England prior to where the story starts, but it is prohibitively long - and it's set up, not summary, so it also loses points for not doing what it purports to do - I could have said exactly what this fic was in one sentence: "Simon and Baz meet at several Regency-appropriate venues over the course of a London season and reflect on their acquaintance in letters", but instead I did the full book jacket version because it was more interesting to me.

Best/Worst First Line?

Oh, this is interesting. I can honestly say that I have no idea where this will go. Going to pull up my docs and find out! Okay, since I only have four fics to consider, and I'm feeling split, I'm going to do two for each. I feel good about my words, but I will say that half of my first lines actually provide information, and the other half are incomplete thoughts. Those were stylistic decisions I made, but when taken alone, it does somewhat limit the effectivness of a sentence when it can't stand without the rest of the paragraph. Perhaps that decision will lure readers in for more?

Best:

In the end, we wind up at Pitch Manor. (To the Manor Borne)

I know that you won't be surprised when I tell you that I do not like writing letters. (A Man of Letters)

Kind of interesting that these both contain key words from the titles 🤔

Worst:

I'm not sure how I'm supposed to do this. (Use Your Words)

I love how the title seems to be answering Baz's question when the two are put together like this 😂

Strange that it should end here, where it all started. (At the Top of a Tower, With You)

The title also seems to complete the first line in this one, too. I'm learning about my writing as this goes on, so that's cool!

Best/Worst Last Line?

Hmm. Okay, again, no idea. Also, a little leery of including last lines for anyone who hasn't read the fics they're from yet. (Tho I guess it's unlikely those people would be reading this😆) But let's see what we've got.

Use Your Words and A Man of Letters have very similar final lines, and both are somewhat spoilery.

Best: The ending of A Man of Letters felt risky to me, in the way that it is formatted and changes tone from the rest of the story. It was something that happened as I wrote it and I loved it. I had no idea if readers would like it, if they would feel like it worked as an ending, but I felt strongly enough about it to let the entire fic hinge on that and I think it really paid off. So, without giving you the actual last line, which is only one word, I'm going to say that one is my best ending.

Worst:

To the Manor Borne: "Carry on, Simon."

It's not bad, it's just not mine.

Looking back, did you write more fics than you thought you would this year, fewer than you thought, or about what you predicted?

I did not set out to write any fics in 2020. I was supposed to be taking a break from writing. I've been an aspiring novelist for half my life now, and have been going through major ups and downs with my writing. I decided I needed to re-evaluate and figure out if writing was something that was even going to be able to make me happy anymore. The answer is: YES! Just…not original fiction. At the moment. I'm happiest when I can write for the sake of writing and not have to DO something with that writing. Which is why discovering fan fiction was AMAZING!!!! 🥰🥰🥰

To actually answer the question, yes, I wrote more than I thought I would. I also wrote exactly as much as I thought I would, simply because these were all things I signed up for (with the exception of my Countdown fic, but I committed to it as if it were something that required a sign up).

I have a lot more ideas for 2021, but I don't know how many of them will come to fruition. I'm not putting pressure on myself to have to do anything beyond what I sign up for again, because it did work out so well for me starting off.

What pairing/genre/fandom did you write that you would never have predicted last year?

I mean, the pairing and the fandom were in no way a surprise. 😆 They're my only ones, so those were both a given. The genre is also not surprising.

What's your favorite story this year? Not the most popular, but the one that makes you the happiest?

A Man of Letters, without any hesitation. I adore it so much. It's the kind of fic I know I will unabashedly sit down to read over and over, even if I'm the one who wrote it. I had one reader to please and it was ME. By far, my most self-indulgent fic.

Okay, NOW your most popular story?

That depends on the metric.

To the Manor Borne leads in Comments (107), Kudos (153), and Hits (1992), and Use Your Words leads in Bookmarks (26).

But since To the Manor Borne is top in 3 out of 4 metrics, I'll say that one.

Story most upderappreciated by the universe?

I mean, the least popular by a wide margin is At the Top of a Tower, With You, but I don't know if I'd call it underappreciated. It's short, it's angsty, it's got a very unusual style, it's Lucy POV, it's the first fic I wrote and posted. I didn't really go into it with high performance expectations. I'm proud of it, I just didn't expect it to be popular. It would be nice if more people read it, but I'm not broken up over it.

Story that could have been better?

I'm not even going to touch this one. Everything can always be improved upon, but if I go down that route, nothing will ever be done. This is one of the things I have come to appreciate about traditional art versus digital. With traditional, there is only so much you can do before something is permanent and you have to live with it. It's an exercise in letting go and acceptance. Digital is flashier and more flexible, but I could (and have) spend months on a single piece and never feel satisfied, never stop tweaking. I think that's also the reason I started to hate my novels.

Sexiest story?

Based purely on overall vibes, I find the understated tension of the Regency the most appealing, so I'm going to say A Man of Letters. I didn't actually stray into sex territory in any of my fics (though Simon and Baz have had sex by the time To the Manor Borne starts, and refer to it, and probably do it "offscreen"), but A Man of Letters is the one that feels sexiest to me. Lots of thirsting!Baz and feral!Simon and sensual hand touching (how risqué!) - and YEARNING. That, to me, is the sexiest vibe of all. So. Much. Yearning.

Saddest story?

At the Top of a Tower, With You - for this one, I tagged "angst without plot" and I stand by that. It's Lucy losing her connection to Simon at the end of CO and trying to find a way to reconcile herself to leaving him alone again. I gave it as much of a hopeful bent as I could, with the refrain of Baz's spoken "love" to cling to, but it's very sad.

Most fun?

To the Manor Borne - All of my fics have their fair share of angst, but this one also has some good, silly, holiday fluff thrown in. Since I wrote it for the Countdown, each chapter was based on a different prompt, which led to this one going in all sorts of directions no single fic probably ever should. Plus, it has the most Shepard, and Shepard always makes things more fun.

Story with the single sweetest moment?

Oh my god. I don't know. No, never mind. I do. It's To the Manor Borne, but it's split between the two gift giving scenes, the Constellations and Secret Santa/Gift Giving prompts. These were private moments between Simon and Baz, sharing themselves with each other, being vulnerable, and communicating. It's the gifts they give each other, yes, but it's more so the reasons they chose those gifts, and how they show part of themselves and share their love for each other, through those gifts, that had me in tears writing those two scenes. I'm super proud of them.

Hardest story to write?

Use Your Words - it was written for an exchange and that made it really hard to write it knowing there was this pressure of making my gift-ee happy with the fic. I'm proud of it, and they really liked it, but the anxiety was too much for me.

Easiest/most fun story to write?

A Man of Letters - if there is a fic better suited to me as a writer, I haven't met it. I started writing after reading Pride and Prejudice in high school, so I started out writing Regency and I spent years and years and years of my life obsessed. When I transferred into college, an administrator I had never met before heard my name during orientation and said, "Oh, you're the Austen scholar." (It is a small, private college, and I was a transfer, so the pool of students was even smaller. But still. Many years later, I'm clearly not over it.) I also did my senior thesis on an epistolary novel (Frances Burney’s Evelina), and my English Lit emphasis was for that time period. So, I felt like I had been preparing for this fic my entire adult life. 😂

Did any stories shift your perceptions of the characters?

I don't think so. I tend to let my writing be dictated by the characters, so I'm always following their lead. Sometimes they'll do or say something that surprises me and takes me down a route I didn't necessarily foresee, but I don't think there was ever a point where one of them did something that made me rethink who they are as a character.

Most overdue story?

I will say A Man of Letters, since that one felt like a culmination of my seventeen-year-old self's wildest writing dreams. But I should probably say the Scooby Doo AU I still haven't managed to finish, because that one has been a WIP since I joined the fandom. Oops. (I'm hoping when I look over this in a year, I can feel smug that it's finally done.)

Did you take any writing risks this year? What did you learn from them?

Writing at all was a risk for me! And writing fan fic for the very first time! Writing an entire fic told only through letters. And then ending it in a completely different style from the rest of the fic. Doing a multi-chaptered fic for the Countdown, using a different prompt for each chapter, and publishing a chapter every single day for thirty days (with the exception of two days that had art). Signing up for fandom events in the first place!

What I learned from taking risks in my writing is the same thing I learned when I took risks in my art this year. I have a much better appreciation for what I've done when I push myself, I feel better about the end product, and I like it longer. I think it's really good for me to challenge myself creatively.

This year's theme and the story that demonstrates it most?

Oh boy. Um. Therapy! Both Use Your Words and To the Manor Borne had their big HEA moments built around sending Simon and Baz to therapy. I don't think that's likely to change for future fics, either. I feel like therapy as the theme for 2020 seems very fitting. (Also, I think I keep sending the boys to therapy because I'm trying to get myself there…)

What are your fic writing goals for next year?

Just to write what I want to write, have fun, not put any pressure on myself, and to take risks in my writing and my art because it will help me to grow.

#fan fic year in review #my fic #at the top of a tower with you #use your words #a man of letters #to the manor borne

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queerofthedagger · 4 years ago

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hello! i noticed you have prompts open, and i love your writing! no pressure ofc but do you think you could write james and sirius rescuing regulus? maybe getting him out of grimmauld, or maybe when they're all older, getting him away from the death eaters?? james and sirius CAN be in a relationship, or they could be just uselessly giving each other heart eyes until reggie does something to facilitate their boyfriendhood?? i don't know, the ball is in your court, now :')

Hey nonnie, thank you so much for the prompt! ❤️ It really took me a while, but on the bright side, it also got quite long (most of it is under the cut.) I hope it’s more or less what you were aiming for - it got angst-y, but there’s a happy ending.

The first part of this was also written for a writing exercise on discord, “Have your character write a letter to their younger self.” All of the fic was heavily inspired by this video, and by the song used in it, which also provided me with the title.

or maybe you were the ocean (when I was just a stone)

Teen and Up || Graphic Depictions of Violence || 5,7k words || AO3

Pairings: Sirius Black/James Potter; Sirius Black & Regulus Black

Tags: Regulus Black Lives; Fix It; Established Relationship; Angst with a Happy Ending

Summary: There are only two ways this can end, and James refuses both of them. Refuses to accept that they will die here, like this, joining the hundreds of dead bodies in their eternal grave; refuses to be the one who has to drag Sirius out of here, to tell him that he’s failed in the last second. To watch him shatter underneath the weight of his grief. --- Kreacher does not like Master Regulus' plan. Kreacher has his orders about them, but they don't include a piece of parchment, meant to join Regulus the following day. Kreacher thinks there's only one person able to help, loath as he is to admit it.

Kreacher's right.

Dear “younger self,”

I would never write this if I wasn’t going to die tomorrow, but there is a strange urge to acknowledge everything in a place outside my own head, and this seems the easiest way. At least it is a dying wish easily fulfilled.

That is a horrible way to start a letter. I suppose it is of no consequence though, seeing that these words will disappear with me.

If I could give you only one piece of advice, it would be this; listen to Sirius. Listen to Sirius and go with him when he leaves – do anything, anything at all to get away from this house that has never been a home to either of you.

I know what you’re thinking; he abandoned you first. He is the one who replaced you. He made everything so much harder on himself with his stubbornness, his constant need to be contrary; by always stepping into the line of mother’s fury.

But he is also right, about so many things.

Most importantly though, he is right about this – no matter what you do, it will never be enough to make them proud. Not getting sorted into Slytherin, not upholding traditions and echoing their beliefs and, most of all, not joining the Dark Lord. Nothing will ever be enough.

You will only burn yourself up by trying; you will do everything that is expected of you and more, and it won’t be enough. You will do unspeakable things that leave you shaking for days on end, will wake you up every night with screams lodged behind your teeth and fear buried in your bones.

Will leave you aged decades within a year, and still mother will only stare at you blankly and ask where Sirius is.

You won’t know either, but you’ll wish you did. You will wish that you could find him, warn him, beg him for help. But not only will you have aged decades, you will have drifted away so far that there’s no way to go back anymore.

Not a point in trying either.

You may think that I’m dramatizing in typical Black manner, but to be honest, it’s still so much worse than it sounds.

Tomorrow, I will die in a cave, and nobody will know. Tomorrow, I will die in a cave, and all I’ll be remembered as is a spineless coward who has been wrong all along.

At least I won’t have to deal with Sirius’ ‘I told you so.’

I’d take a hundred of those if only to see that grin one more time.

There always is a choice, and there always are consequences. Sometimes, they just come for you as an army of Inferi and the Drink of Despair.

- Regulus

* * *

Regulus doesn't know that Kreacher slips the letter out of his pocket later that night; doesn’t know that his always loyal elf is still searching for his least favourite family member when Regulus leaves for the last time, in the early hours of dawn.

Anything, anything at all to save Master Regulus.

* * *

James hears the crashes and the shouting already on the staircase, Sirius’ voice unmistakable. He breaks into a run, taking the steps two, three at a time, wand drawn and ready to fight whoever has found them.

An old, wrinkled house-elf is not what he expects to find sneering up at Sirius, and it effectively stops him in his tracks. Sirius doesn’t seem to notice him though, glaring down at the creature with so much hatred written over his face that James doesn’t dare let his guard down just yet.

“I’m not going to promise you anything without knowing what you want from me,” Sirius just spits, contempt dripping from his every word. His hands are shaking at his sides though, muscle in his jaw jumping, and James knows that this isn’t a usual threat.

Knows that there’s something personal in this because Sirius’ anger only ever burns bright and hot like this when he’s terrified; when there’s something on the line beyond his own life.

Sirius only ever loses control when it comes to his loved ones, and just like that, James knows whose elf this is; knows with startling certainty spreading through his lungs that this has the potential to break Sirius, and inevitably himself.

Neither of them has noticed him yet, or at least not considered him noteworthy enough to avert their glares from each other, and James takes a second to take in the details.

The living room looks wrecked, books and papers littering the floor and the coffee table lying overturned. Sirius has a cut on his cheek, slowly oozing blood while the elf appears to be unharmed. It’s clenching a crumpled piece of parchment in one gnarled fist though, and underneath the disdain spilling from its eyes, James can make out a deep wariness.

“Sirius,” he says, taking a few steps into the room without lowering his wand. “I don’t think he’d be here if it wasn’t important.”

Because there’s only one reason James can come up with for the elf of the Blacks to appear in their home; only one reason, and he knows that Sirius knows it too, sees it in the thin line of his lips and the tightness of his shoulders.

“It could still be a trick,” Sirius presses out, not taking his eyes off the elf, and there’s a plea ringing in his words, desperation for it to not be what they both fear it is.

“Kreacher would not expose himself to the presence of filthy blood-traitors for – “

“Shut up!” Sirius snaps, eyes flashing, and James quickly wraps his fingers around his wrist. Looks at him and silently says, not now, not yet, it’s not worth it.

“What are the terms?” he asks out loud, glancing at the elf whose face twists as if contemplating if James is even worth answering to.

He seems to decide that it’ll have higher chances than with Sirius, though he turns his nose up when he speaks. “Kreacher has a message that was not intended to reach the – you. Kreacher will deliver it still, if the blood-traitor son promises to help.”

And yeah, that would be a problem, James thinks. Looks at Sirius and sees the conflict there, twitching fingers and working jaw, and thinks to hell with it.

“You were not ordered to not deliver it either, then?” he asks, because he might be reckless, but he’s not stupid; might be willing to risk everything and anything for Sirius every second of the day, but never once Sirius himself.

The elf’s sneer slips by a fraction. “Kreacher received no orders at all about the letter. Kreacher does want to add that time is an issue. He will be needing help soon.”

Sirius still doesn’t look convinced, but James knows what will happen if they refuse; knows that Sirius will run himself in circles, will drive himself mad with not knowing. Knows that it might be the deciding push to finally plunge them off the precipice this war has them balancing on.

Thinks that if it’s as bad as he thinks it is, refusing might end up being worse than whatever potential trap they’re about to walk into.

His grip on Sirius’ wrist tightens, but he doesn’t glance away from the elf when he says, “We accept. Give us the letter, and we’ll help.”

Sirius makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat but he’s also already gripping for the parchment, nearly tearing it in his haste.

James is barely able to take in the words with the way Sirius is shaking beside him, and still, all he can think is that it’s so, so much worse than he could’ve ever anticipated.

“Where,” Sirius finally chokes out, his face pale and haunted, and he’s swaying on his feet, knuckles white around his wand. “Where,” he repeats, voice breaking over the shout.

James does the only thing he can do; takes Sirius’ face between his hands and digs his fingers into his skin. Presses their foreheads together and says, “No, not like this.” Holds on even as Sirius struggles, eyes wild and caught so firmly between anger and desperation that it makes James’ heart ache. “You’ll kill us both like this,” he says, shaking him for good measure. Says, “Breathe,” again and again until Sirius finally starts listening, or at least accepting that it’s the only way James will let him out of this flat anytime soon.

“Better,” he finally allows, but he only lets his hand drop to Sirius’ wrist once more as he turns back to the elf.

There’s disdain again, but also poorly hidden relief, and James could honestly not care less about what a house-elf thinks of them right now.

“When is he planning to go?” Sirius asks, and his voice is still strained, full of fear buried underneath fury, but at least he’s thinking again.

Of course, it all flies out of the window when Kreacher answers, “He left an hour ago. Kreacher can take you to the entrance of the cave but not further.”

James doesn’t protest when Sirius snarls, “Take us,” doesn’t think that Kreacher would be willing to give them more information even if he’d get Sirius to listen for another second.

The words Inferi and Drink of Despair are still echoing through his head, and they’re mixing with the guilt that is already radiating off of Sirius in waves, mixing with it’s my fault, and I should’ve tried harder, and if he dies, it’s because of me, that he knows are running rampage in Sirius’ own head.

As they’re pulled into the Apparation, James silently lists defences against Inferi and poison, hoping that they’re the only things he will have to fight tonight.

The sounds hit him first; desperate, guttural sobs that seem to echo, magnified and thrown around between what turn out to be the smooth, dark walls of a large cave. There are pleas in between, broken off words and swallowed fractures, though through the seconds it takes them to orientate themselves, two words are repeated over and over.

Sirius, please.

The words twist themselves underneath James’ ribs, race down his spine, and still he is glad for them. They freeze Sirius in place just long enough for James to reach out and hold him back from storming straight into the water stretching out between them and the small island Regulus seems to be kneeling on.

A green glow coming from a basin spends just enough eerie light to illuminate Regulus’ trembling figure, curled in on himself and pleading, crying, screaming himself hoarse.

It’s only Kreacher’s voice that prevents James from having to outright fight Sirius to keep him where he is.

“There’s a boat,” he says. “It will only take one of you.”

“Can’t you take us?” James asks before Sirius can, one arm still tightly wrapped around his chest as his own stomach sinks, panic clawing its way slowly up his throat.

Kreacher’s jaw sets and he shakes his head. “The wards would be tripped, and Master Regulus forbade me from doing anything to alert him.”

There’s no way, no way in hell that James will let Sirius go alone, or leave him behind, and he spares a thought to curse whoever set up this nightmare of a setting. He has some suspicions but no time to really bother with them, Sirius already struggling again, glaring and spitting and snarling at James as if he’s seriously contemplating to hex him within the next few seconds.

He needs an answer, a solution, anything, but there’s nothing, and then there’s movement from the small island, the sudden sound of waves drawing their attention.

It shouldn’t be loud enough, shouldn’t drown out Regulus’ cries and Sirius’ curses, but still they both stop moving, eyes forcibly dragged to witness Regulus bowing low over the edge of the lake.

Grey hands are breaking the surface of the water, followed by heads and bodies, so many of them that they appear to be moving as one. The green light reflects on the dead skin, catching on empty eyes and white teeth, and James has to clench his jaw against the bile rising in his throat.

“Take us,” Sirius says, and his voice is cold all of a sudden, tightly controlled fury pressed into two words as he stares at Kreacher.

“Kreacher cannot – “

“Take. Us,” Sirius repeats, drawing himself up. “I command you to take us, or I swear by all that I hold dear, my mother will look like a bloody joke when I’m done with you.”

Kreacher’s still hesitating, visibly struggling with himself in a way that would give James a pause in different circumstances, but they’re losing time they can’t afford.

Regulus’ screams have turned hoarse, barely audible over the other noises filling up the cavern now, and it’s impossible to spot him any longer in between the throng of Inferi.

“You want him to survive as well, don’t you?” James tries, and there’s terror ringing through his words.

Finally, Kreacher nods, and they don’t get another second to prepare themselves for the lurch of Apparation; to question just who they’re alerting by tripping the wards.

Sirius twists out of his grip the second they have solid ground under their feet again, wand slashing through the air in ferocious precision. Still, for every cutting curse that hits its target, three more seem to appear, and the whole bulk of them is already moving back into the murky water.

“Fire,” James snaps, unceremoniously digging his elbow into Sirius’ side when he doesn’t seem to hear him. “Fire, but not directly at them, come on.”

An incantation rolls off Sirius’ tongue that James has only ever read about and his blood runs cold. His own movement slows and stops as he watches white-hot flames burst forward, rushing over the surface of the lake surrounding them, forming indistinct shapes.

“Sirius,” he tries, grabbing his arm. “Sirius,” he shouts, shaking him, but to no avail. There are no Inferi left in the vicinity of the island. No other bodies either but for Kreacher cowering by the basin, and James knows, knows that Sirius has noticed too. That he’ll burn the whole cave down, no matter how little it will serve an actual purpose, and himself with it if James lets him.

The light of the flames is breaking on Sirius’ face, all hard lines and pain etched into every crease as his eyes seem to burn, grey blazing just as bright.

There are only two ways this can end, and James refuses both of them. Refuses to accept that they will die here, like this, joining the hundreds of dead bodies in their eternal grave; refuses to be the one who has to drag Sirius out of here, to tell him that he’s failed in the last second. To watch him shatter underneath the weight of his grief.

It’s not a plan. It’s not even something he expects to work or to not go horribly wrong, but it’s the only thing he can think off beyond forcing Sirius to give up for his sake.

The Summoning Spell shouldn’t work on people, and the seconds after he casts tick by so very slowly. The heat keeps scorching his skin, licking at his hands and his face and supplying a painfully tangible warning of Sirius’ suffering.

Then there’s a ripple in the water close to them, a body hurling out of it and barrelling into James with a force that knocks him off his feet. Sharp stones are digging into his back, his head is thundering with the strength of the impact but he’s laughing, laughing and crying and only just making sure that it’s Regulus lying on top of him, unconscious but with breath brushing against James’ neck.

Somehow, he manages to climb back to his feet, pulling Regulus up as he goes. Manages to stumble through the thick smoke that’s curling through the air, through his lungs, threatening to choke them all before they can burn or drown.

A distant, hysterical corner of his mind that he tries to ignore as best as he can helpfully points out that it at least keeps out whoever created this cavern from hell, and he wants to laugh again.

Finally, he reaches Sirius, standing rigid at the very edge of the water with tears streaming down his face but wand still raised, staring straight into the flames. James wraps his free hand around his neck, pressing his nails into his skin and shaking him until Sirius finally turns his head to look at him.

It takes several seconds until the haze leaves Sirius’ eyes and they widen, realization bleeding into them, swiftly followed by guilt. James wants to feel relief, wants to reassure him that there’s nothing to be guilty about; wants to shove Regulus at him and shout, see, everything will be fine, you idiot. As if I’d ever let you down.

He’s not sure yet that he believes it himself though and does none of those things. Does only tighten his grip on both brothers and shouts for Kreacher, the words scraping against his raw throat, and he nearly slumps in relief when the elf appears next to them with wide, terrified eyes.

“Take us to our flat,” he orders, praying and begging silently that he will listen. The fire is breaking through the barrier Sirius must’ve kept up, heat already singing their clothes, and he thinks he can hear a shriek of rage even over the roaring of the flames.

The sight of Regulus must’ve convinced Kreacher because he doesn’t waste a second to grab the limp hand, and then the world is twisting, lurching, and the last thing James sees is white and red and yellow, and a person materializing out of black smoke in the spot they’re just leaving behind.

Regulus’ weight drags James down as soon as they land, and he pulls Sirius with him. The quiet and cold of their living room is like a punch, adrenaline snatched away with the sudden absence of heat.

For long moments, he’s unable to move, to do anything but breathe. Unable to comprehend that they made it out, all three of them still alive and here, maybe not unharmed but not on the bottom of a lake full of Inferi either.

“Is he - ?” Sirius breaks the silence, and when James turns his head to look at him, his eyes are clenched shut, hands still trembling where they press against the floor, and lips white with the force his teeth are biting into them.

“He’s breathing,” he answers quietly because he has no idea if Regulus is fine, will be fine again, and he can’t lie to Sirius, never could, not even about something like this.

Sirius gives a jerky nod, still not opening his eyes but reaching out a hand to wrap around James’ own so tightly that he can feel his bones shift. “I could’ve killed you. I could’ve killed you and you didn’t stop me.”

It’s not an accusation, not even a reprimand. It’s only horror, and guilt, and James wants to erase the previous hours from all of their minds. Wants to take all three of them far away from a family that pitches brothers against each other, from a war that’s eating away at all of them, and from whatever it is that led Regulus to the cave and his near self-sacrifice in the first place.

Wants to take them far away and forget about the terror that’s still woven tightly around his ribs, pressing into his lungs and choking up his throat with a grip so crushing, he’s not sure if it’ll ever leave again.

“As if I’d let you,” he finally chokes out, squeezing Sirius’ hand in return and pulling them both into a sitting position.

It falls flat and they both know it, but Sirius merely gives another nod and scrambles until he’s kneeling at Regulus’ side, hands shaking as they hover helplessly over his still body.

James wants to take them far away from here, or scream and rage until the memories don’t feel so achingly raw anymore, and does none of it. Instead, he pulls himself together with more effort than it’s ever taken him and knocks his head softly against Sirius’ in wordless reassurance.

Taking a deep breath, he starts pulling away Regulus’ torn robes. “Kreacher, could you get me the potions from the bathroom?” he asks when he finds deep gashes underneath the fabric, littering his arms and chest, bleeding into their faded blue carpet.

The elf disappears, the crack of his Apparition startling Sirius out of his shock. The following minutes pass in silence, both of them working on closing the wounds, dispelling the water from Regulus’ lungs, and checking for invisible injuries.

After Kreacher reappears with the potions, he watches them closely but otherwise stays silent and keeps his distance, hands wrung tight into the hem of the pillowcase he’s wearing.

“That’s it,” James finally says, sitting back on his haunches and rubbing a hand over his face in exhaustion. “Some of it will scar, but he should wake up soon.”

At least he hopes so; neither of them is a Healer even if they’d inevitably picked up the basics since leaving Hogwarts. He doesn’t want to consider what would happen if he doesn’t.

Sirius doesn’t answer, merely sits back to lean against the back of the couch and carefully moving Regulus until his head is resting in Sirius’ lap.

For long moments, James only watches the slow movements of Sirius’ hand carding through Regulus’ hair, the way his eyes keep roaming over his body as if expecting new injuries to appear. Watches how two of his fingers stay pressed against Regulus’ pulse point at his throat, hand twitching every other second.

Eventually though, James forces himself back to his feet, legs trembling underneath him as he makes his way into the kitchen. His throat is parched, his eyes are still burning from the smoke, and he knows that Sirius must be in a similar state; knows that he won’t get up and take care of himself until Regulus opens his eyes because it’s what he’d do if it was James lying there.

It’s what James would do if the roles were reversed, and that’s a scenario he shoves away as best as he can whenever the thought so much as tries to form.

When he steps back into the room with two glasses of water and PepperUp Potion, Sirius is still in the same position, but he’s talking quietly, words barely audible. “Come on, lionheart, you have to wake up. I owe you several I told you so’s, remember?” he’s just saying, voice rough and still so, so heavy with regrets.

“Sir-us?”

James freezes where he’s just sitting down next to them, nearly forgetting to keep up the levitation spell, and watches with fear and relief warring in his chest as Regulus’ eyelids flutter, eyes slowly blinking open to reveal a grey several shades darker than Sirius’.

“You idiot,” is the first thing Sirius chokes out, his grip on Regulus’ shoulder visibly tightening, and in spite of everything, James smiles faintly. “You complete, utter idiot, how could you?”

Regulus’ eyes widen, his body going rigid while his hands curl into fists at his sides. “What – where – “

“You nearly died,” Sirius spits before James can even think about answering, and he winces at the note of anger creeping back into Sirius’ tone. “What were you thinking? If Kreacher hadn’t – “

“Kreacher came to you?” Regulus interrupts, surprisingly alert all of a sudden as he sits up, and James wonders if it’s only adrenaline that’s fuelling him. He twists so he can keep looking at them, pushing himself onto his knees, and his eyes flicker between them as fear and disbelief chase each other over his expression. “I – you – you got me out of the cave?”

Before Sirius can answer, James reaches out to squeeze his knee.

Sirius swallows, eyes closing briefly, but his voice is much calmer when he says, “Yes, though if it wasn’t for James, I doubt – we only arrived when you – when the Inferi attacked you.”

Regulus’ expression doesn’t change, confusion and wariness still shining in his eyes. “But how – I forbade Kreacher from telling anyone and anyway, why? Why would you – “

Care is what he doesn’t say, what he doesn’t have to say if the flinch from Sirius is anything to go by.

James watches out of the corner of his eye as Sirius’ jaw clenches and unclenches, fingers tapping a restless rhythm against his legs, and he eventually draws his shoulders back.

“Because you’re my brother. And I – even though I never regretted leaving Grimmauld’s, I regretted leaving you behind. That we grew apart so badly and I – that you thought you couldn’t come to me with whatever insane thing you were attempting tonight. Because the thought of you dying – I couldn’t – I’d never let that happen,” Sirius finally says, his voice quiet but gaze boring into Regulus’.

Regulus stares with wide eyes, a frown etched between his brows as if he isn’t quite sure that any of this is real. “But you’re – I’m everything you hate,” he finally spits, face twisting into a snarl while his hands tremble at his sides. “I joined the Dark Lord! I did things so horrible, you wouldn’t – “ he chokes off, turning his head away.

James thinks it’s startling how similar the two of them are, after all, despite everything. He’s itching to make this easier for both of them, but all he can do is press his leg against Sirius’ and hope that it’ll be enough to get through this.

“And you realised what a shit-choice that was,” Sirius shoots back, and for the briefest of seconds, his lips twitch into a smile. “I told you so, by the way.”

Regulus’ head whips back around, and James wants to bury his face in his hands.

“The letter,” Regulus whispers, his whole posture slumping. “Of course. I should’ve – “

“If you finish that sentence, I’ll kill you myself,” Sirius growls, then shakes his head and huffs. “I just – are you really so keen to die that you wouldn’t even consider asking me for help?”

There’s desperation bleeding through his words now, and Regulus must’ve heard it too because his head snaps up, his hand twitching as if he wants to reach out.

“It’s not – no,” he presses out, running a hand over his face. “But I – not only didn’t I expect you to believe me, it’s also dangerous. More dangerous than this war already is, and you have a traitor in your precious Order and I couldn’t – he’ll hunt me down anyway.“

“You betrayed Voldemort,” James says before Sirius can, the final pieces clicking into place, and it reminds him of the flash of white skin materialising just as they’d left the cave behind.

Regulus flinches at the name and seems to hesitate. Eventually, he nods, resolve hardening his features. “He’s mad, completely, utterly mental. I just – I couldn’t do it anymore and when Kreacher – when I found out something important, something that could help bring him down, I – “ he pauses, biting his lips. Takes a deep breath and closes his eyes before looking back at Sirius. “I thought I could at least do one good thing. What does it matter if I die in a raid, in a cave, or because he decides to kill me?”

“Because I couldn’t bear to lose you!” Sirius snaps. “Because it was already bad enough to lose you once, and I won’t let Voldemort, or anyone else for that matter, lay a fucking hand on you, alright? And you’ll better get used to that, you complete idiot, because I won’t make the same mistake twice.”

There’s a beat of silence in which the words seem to ring through the room, and then a dry sob wrenches itself out of Regulus’ throat, his hand flying up to press against his mouth.

Sirius instantly moves forward, wrapping his arms around Regulus and burying his head in the crook of his neck, his own shoulders shaking. It takes only a second until Regulus’ arms come up, his hands clenching in the fabric of Sirius’ hoodie as if holding on for dear life.

James watches, something loosening in his chest, and when he looks at Kreacher for the first time since Regulus woke up, there’s barely any disdain left on his old face.

The two of them stay in their embrace for a long time, murmuring to each other so quietly that James can’t make out the words.

As much as he wants to give them their time, to leave them to make up for all those lost years, there’s still a memory at the forefront of his mind that is impossible to ignore. He doesn’t want to think about it, wants to think about nothing but all three of them being alive and well, but if he truly wants to keep it that way, they still have more important things to worry about first.

Clearing his throat and flashing them a strained, apologetic smile, he waits until he has both of their attention. “I’m not sure that we weren’t seen just before we disappeared.”

All the blood drains from Regulus’ face and he flinches back as if he’s been slapped. His hand finds Sirius’ arm, fingers twisting into his sleeve, and James’ heart aches at having to do this at all.

Sirius’ features only harden, jaw setting and lips pressing into a thin line.

James knows what he’s going to say and shakes his head. “We have to leave,” he says, raising his hand to stall Sirius’ protest. “We could go into hiding, but Regulus is right. We have a traitor in the Order, and whatever it is Regulus attempted to do tonight, you and I both know that it was too well-guarded to draw anything but Voldemort’s utmost attention.”

“A Horcrux,” Regulus says quietly, turning his head to send Sirius a look full of meaning that’s lost on James. “Did you take a locket, by any chance?”

“A Horcrux,” Sirius echoes, his voice suddenly hoarse again, and he slowly shakes his head. “We didn’t but I – well I guess it got probably caught up in the Fiendfyre.”

“You – “ Regulus starts, then cuts himself off and shakes his head. “Never mind. James is right though, we can’t stay here. We have to – I need to, I’m – “ he stammers, hands starting to shake and fear filling his eyes.

Sirius’ eyes meet James’, and he finds the same resolve that he’s feeling mirrored back at him, a silent, old promise between the two of them that now includes a third one.

“My parents had a house in the middle of nowhere in Iceland,” he says, a plan starting to take shape in his mind. “We’ve never been there but I know the coordinates to create a Portkey, and that there are a few elves who’ve taken care of it over the years.”

“I should be able to ward it and make it unplottable,” Sirius picks up, already getting to his feet and dragging Regulus with him. “We’ll contact Dumbledore, get a message to him with the information we have and that we’re leaving, nothing more.”

“What about mother?” Regulus asks, the panic receding even though there’s still uncertainty in his eyes. “I know you don’t care but if he saw me, if I disappear…”

Sirius sighs, closing his eyes briefly, but he nods. “Send Kreacher back, order him to not tell anyone but report to her that he hasn’t seen you in days. Voldemort won’t outright kill her if she doesn’t know what’s going on, the support of the family is too important for him.”

There’s a beat of silence as Regulus and Sirius stare at each other, but eventually, Regulus nods, exhaling a sigh. “I hope you’re right.”

Summoning parchment, James hands it to him. “Write down everything you know about – whatever it is you were talking about; I’ll call one of the Potter elves to deliver it later. We’re going to pack a few things, I think Sirius has some clothes that should fit you.”

Regulus nods, fiddling with the quill, and James decides to leave him to it. Just as he and Sirius are about to leave the room, Regulus calls, “Wait!”

Turning back around, James watches him, hoping that there won’t be another argument coming; it’s all a mess already, all of them running on their last reserves of strength, and they can’t afford to lose any more time.

“Thank you,” Regulus says, the words quiet but sincere.

James smiles, but it’s Sirius who answers. “Always.”

As soon as the door to their bedroom closes behind them, Sirius twists, pushing James against the wood and crashing their mouths together.

His own hands come up on instinct, wrapping around Sirius’ waist, and he keeps his eyes closed even as Sirius pulls back to lean their foreheads together.

“We’d all be dead without you,” Sirius chokes out, voice breaking over the words, and his fingers press against James’ jaw so harshly that it’s bordering on painful. “We’d be all dead, and now we have to leave everything behind. Are you – I won’t force you to come with us.”

James huffs a laugh, wet and nearly hysterical. “Merlin, sometimes you’re such an idiot,” he presses out, his own throat closing up. “I’d go anywhere with you, anywhere at all. You should know that by now. And we’ll be safe. At least, we’ll finally be safe.”

The last words linger in his mind, circling as they haphazardly throw clothes and trinkets into bags, packing up only what they’ll need most. Linger as they send off the letter to Dumbledore and create a Portkey out of the mug that Lily gave them as a house-warming gift. As the three of them grab it tightly and are whisked away.

Circle through his mind still, as they set foot into the small cottage at the foot of a mountain, waves crashing in the distance, dark wood cracked with age but warm and cosy and safe.

They’ll be safe.

#prongsfoot #regulus black #sirius black #james potter #regulus black lives #my fic #answered prompt #i'm always happy to get them!#mona's writing

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clairecrive · 6 years ago

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“Karaoke”- A Klaus Mikealson x Reader imagine

I'm baaack and I've got a new imagine for you. This is also a way to say, once again, thank you all for following this blog and reading it. We're now at 100 followers and I know is not a big deal but for me it is. So thanks again everyone!

This is a long one and I didn't really checked it again but I wanted to give you something so here it is. I hope you like it!

Tag list: @amirra88 @vampiregirl1797 (let me know if you wanna be added or removed)

It's bad enough that Spotify interrupts the playlist now and then since I don't have premium, I understand that's the way it is.

But there should be an option that stops calls from interrupting the music playing. Even more when there's a guy who's blowing up my phone. Apparently, he's having a bad time figuring out what "no" means.

I roll my eyes when I hear my phone ringing again and since it was on speaker, my roommate hears it too. I hear her groan from the other room before she shouts:

"Can you please answer his calls? It's the 100th time he calls, put the boy out of his misery Y/N."

It's funny how she gets so worked up about this when it doesn't even concern her directly.

"We've already talked about this Y/F/N*. I've already made it clear to him that I'm not interested in dating somebody at the moment. If I answer he will find a way to twist my words and get me to go on a date with him." I protested repeating my reasons once more.

"I honestly don't understand what's your problem. He's handsome, he's charming, he's been always been kind to you, he's an accent and I know how British accent swap you off your feet and above all, he's interested. Why don't you give him a chance? What's the worst that can happen?" I hear her voice getting closer to my room before seeing her leaned against the door.

I stop what I'm doing to turn around and face her. She's that look on her face that tells me that she's not going to let this go. I don't understand why though.

"I can fall in love with him." I joked but she and I both know that I'm serious. I have to confess that I have trust issues especially when it comes to guys. I don't like to open up to them romantically because I know that I'm going to give them my all and sooner or later they will leave me heartbroken. And that's something I'm trying to avoid.

She rolls her eyes and scoffs at my insecurities and leaves my room. "You can't keep living like this. Love is everywhere, you can't avoid it for much longer. Besides, you're missing out on a lot. Sooner or later you'll have to break the walls that guard your heart."

Not really listening to what she said, I put my phone in "do not disturb" mode and go back to what I was doing.

***

It was Friday night and as our tradition says, it's karaoke night. As usual, we were at our favourite bar and while I don't sing, the other girls do and their performances are always hilarious.

Y/F/N had just finished her amazingly off-key performance stumbling a bit on the stairs of the stage. Too careful in leading her safely to our table I didn't notice the next person that walked on the stage. A poke from Y/F/N makes me look up though and well, he was the last face I thought I'd see here.

I really didn't expect to see him here nor ever again for that matters, so I stare at him for a bit to make sure that it really is him. When I notice I've been staring at him for a while I shake my head giving my attention to Y/F/N again and I see she's smirking.

Of course, he's not here by chance. Y/F/N is playing cupid.

When we finally made our way back to our table, the next song starts and to my surprise, Klaus starts singing. Is there actually something that this guy can't do?

Since now I know that his presence here is not random, I wonder what song he is going to sing. I guess he's going with the serenade to win me over. How cliché...

Just when I thought this guy couldn't surprise me more and be even more a cliché I hear the initial notes of the song he's decided to sing immediately recognising them.

A small laugh leaves my mouth and arching my brow I look at Y/F/N knowing that this was her doing, and then at him that was already singing with a smirk full aware that his message has gotten across.

"So get out, get out, get out of my head

And fall into my arms instead

I don't, I don't, don't know what it is

But I need that one thing

And you've got that one thing

Now I'm climbing the walls

But you don't notice at all

That I'm going out of my mind

All day and all night "

I am still having trouble processing the fact that he's singing a One Direction song. I know what guys think of boybands so I really appreciate his gesture. I have to admit that he has really got out of his way to win me over. ça va sans dire that I'm not going to get over my trust issues just over this and it won't be easy for him but I guess I could go out on a date. Just one, to see if there's a spark...

Lost in my thoughts I didn't notice that the song was now over and Klaus was standing before me. His smirk was still there and he was wearing a smug expression but I could see that he was nervous about my reaction.

"I didn't know you could sing nor that you liked karaoke." I pointed out when he didn't say anything

"Well, there's a lot you don't know about me." He replies

I nod my head agreeing with him. I look at him for a while before answering.

"That's true, but I would like to change that." I admit hinting nonchalant that I was agreeing on going on a date with him. He seems to understand that because his smirk turns into a toothy smile and I can't help but mirror his action. His smile is so beautiful.

#niklaus mikaelson #niklaus imagine #niklaus x reader #klaus mikaelson #klaus drabble #klaus imagines #klaus mikealson imagines #niklaus mikealson imagine #the originals #tvd #the vampire diaries #writing

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itsfunnierin-enochian · 6 years ago

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Oh, What A Mess We Made

Pairing: Rob Benedict x Reader

My Beta ❤: @gettingbywithalittlehelp96

Summary: A quiet night out with your friend takes an unexpected turn but, true to yourself, you decide to have a good time and take the most of it.

Chapter 1

With the amount of heartbreaks you’d had in your life, you weren't one to fall for anyone, or at least it didn’t happen fast or easily. Most of time you walked free through life, and even though you met a lot of people all the time, you never let them in that far. Really you were just having fun, and once you realized you could have fun without being involved with anyone you started to see things with different eyes, which allowed you to enjoy life more and not waste your Friday nights, for example, lying in bed crying for a guy. You stopped suffering over the wrong people and decided to kick life in the ass and enjoy every moment of it.

Of course with it, like with everything else, there was always that chance that your plan could fail...

You and your friend used to love discovering all these kinds of places to go hang out at and today you ended up in a bar, that was pretty cool. The atmosphere was quiet and enjoyable and even had bands playing live. That was the thing you liked the most. Music was one of your biggest pleasures in life. The only thing that made you feel free and made you enjoy things like you used to.

You started with shots, mostly to ease your friend's nerves. She was meeting a guy who she’d been “dating” online with for the last couple of months, and this was the first time they were meeting. She was so full of hopes that you really didn't want to say or do anything to spoil her night, But you really didn't see this ending well. Starting with the fact that the guy hadn’t messaged her during the day, not even once to check how they were going to recognise the other that night. Besides you had warned her at the beginning, so tonight you weren't about to tell her anything. You were just there to support her as much as she needed. For good or bad.

The band playing that night, intrigued you as well. It was a local band that was called Louden Swain. You could recognise the name but couldn't remember a song, or if you've ever heard one, so you knew if nothing else it would be nice to listen to them and see if you actually did know them. Luckily the time the band was due on stage and the time your friend was meeting her date was the same, so you would be entertained while she did her thing.

You could feel her nails tapping on the table and that was driving you crazy to say the least, making you more nervous than her.

“Dude, stop that!” You scolded, half joking, half serious.

“I-I’m sorry, it's just… I'm so nervous” she replied with a little voice that was barely audible.

“No way, really? I didn't notice,” you replied sarcastically and walked around the table to stand by her side and wrap an arm around her shoulder. “Listen girl, you just need to relax okay? Here take my drink, calm yourself down, and just think, you already like each other and he likes you for what you truly are, and that is the most important and basic rule in life. Be yourself.”

You were trying to cheer her up, those words were honest but still in your guts you had a weird feeling about this, but with the way she looked at you with that special glow in her eyes, you weren’t about to tell her how you felt or how she reminded you of yourself, all bright-eyed, falling for a guy that smoothed talked their way in just to break your heart.

“Thank you Y/N, thank you for being with me today, if something goes wrong-” she started but you interrupted her.

“Nothing will go wrong, lovely, nothing. Just be yourself and enjoy wherever the universe leads you,” you said and kissed her cheek. “Besides we will have music and music makes everything alright.”

As you kept drinking she looked at you, and smiled. She knew you. She knew deep down that you were thinking the same thing she was.

Minutes seemed to fly and before you knew it the band was doing their opening and as you and your friend, stood there cheering on the guys you noticed someone approaching her. When she hugged him, you breathed out and relaxed. Feeling a little pinch in your arm you saw how they walked off to the bar. He seemed nice as they were talking very close to each other and all, so you relaxed even more seeming as things were okay for the moment.

The band sounded so so good. the guys seemed to be really nice guys, and hot. They all had something but they weren't a traditional boy band, they were like a legit band, a band that you thought should be selling out bigger venues and not bars, so you were hoping that this was just some kind of a sporadic concert for the locals that couldn't see them somewhere else. You loved some of the songs they were playing, and made mental note to look them up later, especially the frontman… the frontman was something. You couldn’t catch his name, since you were talking to your friend when they had been announced, but boy did he look good.

Before the set ended, you looked over, doing a double take, before realising you friend was back beside you and not with a happy face, like she should have after meeting a guy who she’d been talking with for months, but red and puffy from all her tears. You just wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her to you, letting her cry. Letting her take it all out, because you knew that's what she needed in that moment. After a couple minutes you walked to the restrooms with your arms wrapped around her, grabbing some paper towels and drying her face while she kept crying, until she finally was able to take a deep breath in and out without sobbing.

“You know what I want?” She asked, as she stepped out of one of the stalls.

Looking up at her you noticed the two other girls in the room had done the same.

“I'm listening” you responded.

“I just wanna go out there get completely wasted, dance like a fool, and get laid. Can you help me with that?”

You weren't sure what the best answer was. You didn't know if you had to agree or tell her to just go back home and rest.

“Same,” the girls that were in the bathroom said laughing.

“You must do it!” one of them finished.

“So are we doing this?” She asked you again to make sure.

“You know my goal in life is to please you,” you said smiling and opening the door for her to start walking out.

You couldn't blame her, you’d even react the same way now, but years ago, you'd have ran to your house to cry for the idiot that made you suffer, and you knew this way was better than that.

Back on the dancefloor, she really did want to have fun and do all the things she mentioned earlier. Dance like nobody's watching actually fitted perfectly in that moment. With a glass in her hand, things were alright in that moment and you knew there was no need to ask. You knew her and she would come confide in you when it was the right moment.

“Oh look, there's the band!” She said and quickly disappeared in the crowd, you tried to follow her direction and to your surprise you succeeded, finding her talking with the guys from the band.

“Here's my baby girl Y/N. Isn't she gorgeous guys?” She exclaimed, wrapping her arm around you and kissing your cheek.

You mouthed an “I'm sorry” and they all laughed. The singer though, the singer and his blue eyes weren't about to leave yours.

“Why don't you sit with us?” He suggested as he made space next to him. You doubted for a second but it was already too late to say no.

“Drinks on me!!!” Your friend yelled and sat next to one of the guys, who was looking at her with a funny look on his face.

“Well, she’s paying for this round apparently,” you said smiling, while this guy was looking at you intensely.

“I'm Rob, by the way.”

Stretching out one of his hands you looked at it before looking up at the big, sweet, smile that accompanied this gesture.

“I'm Y/N, by the way.”

You both laughed and you shook his hand. That strong hand shake and those blue orbs looking at you as if you were the only one there, made your insides tremble a little.

“Beautiful name,” he added causing you to blush. “So… what's happening with her? Apart from having a bad friend that lets her get this drunk and talk to strangers.”

He looked at her and back at you, trying to look serious, but failing.

“Well, excuse me but she asked for it. She's going through a … break up of some sort and she told me she wanted to dance, get drunk and get l-” you stopped when you knew you were giving far too much information.

Rob looked at you surprised “Oh, so she wants some consoling tonight?”

“I guess. If that's what you wanna call it,”

You both smiled.

“And what do you want tonight?” He asked getting closer to you, giving you a drink and grabbing his.

“Just a friendly chat with a member of a band I saw tonight,” you said in his ear, feeling his breath against your skin as he smiled.

“Seems we are all getting what we want tonight.”

He clinked his glass against yours and before taking sip he dedicated you a wink and a big grin. Something that quickly told you that he was trouble.

TAGS: @marichromatic • @missihart23 • @natasha-cole • @notfunnystillhere • @kocswain • @apeshit7x • @princess-of-erebor1992 • @rblstrash • @spnmightkillme • @tas898 • @wontlookaway • @sirraxa • @damn-it-destiel • @i-hear-crazy-calling-my-name • @burningrupture • @internationalmusicteacher • @sherlockedtash88 • @cyrilconnelly • @srtaprieto • @dropthepizza346 • @queenofhellwithcrowley • @pinkykayley • @lauragail2007 • @two-sidedsoul • @shanghai88 • @klinenovakwinchester

#rob benedict #rob benedict x reader #rob benedict x you #rob x reader #rob benedict rpf #louden swain rpf #oh what a mess we made #my fics

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lizzybeth1986 · 7 years ago

Text

Part 2 - His Flame

Introduction

Part 1

Part 3

Disclaimer: This post is the second in a trio of essays on the events of the Finale of The Royal Romance, in which I place Prince Liam's final decision to marry Countess Madeleine in the context of his role as king, the current state of his country Cordonia and how he will move forward from the events of his Coronation. The first essay looks at Cordonia is a nation and how Liam's role is defined by the events that have taken place there over the past few decades. Part 2 will explore the Liam x MC relationship and look at how Liam's interactions with the MC change his beliefs over time.

Disclaimer 2: For the purposes of this essay, I have included only the Liam-centric diamond options and romance-point-responses as part of the plot.

Do read Part 1 before you proceed to this point.

MC: Our relationship is so strange. It's not like he [Liam] can sweep me off my feet and carry me out of here...

Maxwell: When you're royalty, the rules are different.

- TRR Chapter 8, "A Waltz to Remember".

Liam comes to New York with one fervent wish: to see the Statue of Liberty - the ultimate symbol of freedom - right before he goes back to Cordonia to fulfill his duties and choose a bride. He refrains from asking his friends to include it in their schedule for fear of sounding ungrateful. So when an adventurous, fiesty young waitress jumps on the chance to make his dream come true, he is more than intrigued. Almost instantly, he confesses his deepest desires to her as he would an old friend.

For most of their boat trip to Liberty, Liam seems to admire the MC for being precisely what he can't be: gutsy, adventurous, the kind of person who constantly follows her heart. He recognizes in her the freedom he lacks.

For both Liam and the MC, this romantic interlude seems special because they don't expect to see each other again.

The MC, at the beginning of the game, is given three options that reveal to Liam what her ultimate dream is: to see the world, to fall in love or to live every moment to the fullest. Each of these goals, in some way, propel her to take that giant leap to Cordonia once Maxwell makes her the offer.

The Liam she finally meets at the Masquerade Ball is in many ways different from the tourist she had met in New York. In Cordonia, he is the Crown Prince, constantly aware of who he is and what his duties are, and the consequences of his actions. When the MC asks him what he thinks of the social season, he says, "I know it's silly...but it is tradition. I know how important it is to Cordonia to find the right queen." (TRR Chapter 4). He tells her that his feelings do not exactly count in the face of Cordonia's stability, citing the example of his brother Leo's mother. The MC will have to build her reputation in court and gain public approval if she is to be considered a fit candidate for his hand.

It's easy to forget sometimes what a personal leap it is for the MC (especially if Liam is her LI in the playthrough) to settle into courtly life. She has to use her limited funds to impress the royal family, the press and the public, quickly learn the new things that all the other suitors seem to know already and say all the right things to the right people, all while being able to snatch only a few minutes with Liam here and there.

Liam seems aware of how difficult her transition is, and strives to make it easier on her from behind the scenes. He persuades Drake to keep an eye on her to see if she is lost (something that actually does occur at the Derby), ensures that Drake gets the room next to hers at Applewood Manor, arranges for American barbecue to be given at the beach party so she will get a taste of home. He is aware that among all the ladies vying for his hand, the MC is at a disadvantage because everything about this experience is new to her.

The MC, on the other hand, attempts to give him opportunities to let loose, relive his childhood and forget for a while that he has the responsibility of an entire nation on his shoulders. At the Masque, she convinces him to play maze-tag with her after the ball, confiding in him later that "you laughed more in this maze than you did all night at that Masquerade". The hedge maze, from there on, becomes symbolic of their relationship - a reminder of Liam's mother, and his past, and a promise that he can relive happier memories with a woman who is willing to see him as merely human.

Another example of the MC encouraging Liam to take risks and try out new experiences is the "cronut run" (although, to be fair, the cronut run is really for ALL her Cordonian friends). It is here that Liam reveals to her exactly how sheltered his life is: "It's strange. I'm the potential leader of my country, and there's still so much of it I haven't experienced". He realises this needs to change, but isn't sure how to go about it yet.

Their relationship in Cordonia begins on slightly shaky footing, both aware that Liam is expected to make time for all the ladies participating in the social season, and that they cannot give in to their need for each other no matter how tempting the prospect is. While the MC is willing to go further in her relationship with him, Liam reluctantly exercises control over his desire for her, for different reasons over the course of the social season.

From the Masquerade to the hot tub scene at the Nevrakis Chateau, Liam is aware that anything can happen over the next few months and isn't willing to take chances with her. At this point the MC has only begun to prove herself to the King, Queen and the Press, and her reputation as an American vying for the Prince's hand makes her an unconventional choice. By the time they slip into the hot tub at Lythikos, Liam is already starting to feel the strain of repressing his feelings for the MC in favor of being fair to everyone. It's probably at this point that he starts to question exactly how useful the social season is, given that during the Coronation he doesn't hesitate to call it a "damned process".

The Royal Regatta, which follows this sequence, is a turning point that raises questions both for Liam's future and his relationship with the MC. King Constantine's announcement about retiring and handing over the throne to Liam complicates things even further. Had Constantine's rule continued, and the MC succeeded in winning Liam's hand, she would have had plenty of time to fit into her role, so that by the time she was Queen she could prove she could handle the pressure. With this announcement, however, there are chances that whoever Liam will marry will be pushed headlong into the role of Queen.

By this time Liam is already sure he wants to marry the MC (he takes her to Forgotten Falls - a favourite childhood spot - and almost confesses his love to her there), but has no idea how she will fare as Queen. It is a question he asks her often over the next few days, warning her of the expectations she will be asked to fulfill, trying each time to gauge whether this is something she will be okay with.

It is during the Apple Blossom festival that the MC truly gets her moment to shine. Here (if the player clicks the correct options) she not only shows a keen enthusiasm for Cordonian traditions, and manages to charm both the Queen and the Press (again), but has also formed alliances with the suitors who were out of the running already. Where earlier the Queen's questions tested her opinions on governing the nation, here their discussion centres around delegation and the need for allies. Her answers prove to the public that she is serious about becoming Liam's Queen.

This also explains Liam's own change of behaviour. In Applewood, the MC notices that he is happier and more carefree, and definitely more ready to talk about the future. We are never explicitly shown why, but over the course of the book we discover that the MC's reputation has grown in Applewood, making the Prince's decision to select her easier on him. At the ruins close to the village where they rode horses, Liam asks her what kind of king he will make. Her encouragement makes it clear to him that he is not alone.

In the same diamond sequence, Maxwell tells the MC that he saw "something in [MC] that Cordonia needed: hope". It is at this moment we can pinpoint when exactly Liam started becoming confident in his choice of queen. By the time Liam sneaks her into Applewood hedge maze for private time, he has begun talking about spending an eternity with her, asked her what kind of legacy she will want to leave behind and what causes she will champion. At this point he has stopped considering anyone else for his hand in marriage.

It is during their stay is Applewood that their kisses become more frenzied and desperate, and where their need for each other is starting to reach its peak - by the Beaumont chapters Liam is literally biting her neck.

The Beaumont chapters mark an important transition in the way their relationship functions: so far, the MC has been the one who, in Liam's words, has been "jet-setting around Cordonia, attending grand formal events...", and Liam already feels the need to give more to the relationship than he has so far, by having his first ever date with her.

Midway through the date, he tells her that he has never dated before, answers awkward, silly first-date questions, and confesses to her his dream of having a family. This experience is the closest Liam has ever gotten, in his adult life, to being normal around someone.

His efforts to meet the MC halfway don't just stop there. He takes the risk of wearing a suit to match the MC's gown, aware that the symmetry between the couple will cause a stir. He offers her a massage at the Beaumont spa, hoping to help her relax a bit before the craziness of the Coronation ball begins. Having hosted a wildly successful party for the first time, her chances with Liam are now higher.

But because this is a relationship with strange beginnings, Liam and the MC are able to move forward quite quickly in some aspects of their relationship, while tiptoeing around others. For instance, they tend to be open to each other about happier times, but do not always share troubling information with each other, such as the truth behind Constantine's retirement (though Liam does tell her that she would have been the first to hear it if he ever was ready to talk), the Tariq fiasco and the damaged lock on her door at Applewood. Part of this, of course, was because the MC convinced herself that there was nothing to worry about.

Liam and the MC finally confess their love to each other at the hedge maze in the Coronation ball - the first place Liam had ever taken her to in Cordonia. By bringing her here to confess his love, Liam comes full circle. This was the place where he pulled away for the first time, afraid to go further. This is the one place he treasured for the memories it held. In this moment he is confident now that she will become his queen, and nothing - or no one - can stop him from choosing her. In this place, he now wants to make new memories, with her.

Over the course of their relationship, the MC has never failed to turn everything Liam knew to be true, on its head. The social season was about getting him a bride and a fitting queen for Cordonia, but the MC managed to get him to think beyond it. This is never more evident than in these lines:

When Liam eventually makes love to the MC, he doesn't just ask her consent for the sex. He also asks her how she wants it. Both options yield different scenarios, with Liam moulding himself to fit into the MC's needs for that night. This may seem like a small thing, but the fact that he wants her to enjoy sex the way she wants it, not the way he assumes it should be, shows us that as soon as he is done with this social-season-facade, he plans to place her needs first.

There is an element of tragedy to this love scene, given that it happens just minutes before they are denied a chance to ever be a couple in public. We know what took Liam this long, what it took for him to rein himself in everytime things threatened to go a little too far. We know that he was waiting for approval from all sides, hoping against hope that he would be able to both fulfill his duty to his country and be with the woman he loves. He was confident enough in the fact that they'd be together that he stopped waiting and gave in to what they'd both wanted all along. And right after this he finds the same woman being openly humiliated in court, thrown out without being given a chance to clear her name.

When the scandal finally breaks out in court, Liam's first reaction is to ask for her, and then yell out to her so she can hear him. When he doesn't get a response (because her screams are too far away to hear) he turns to Regina, angrily insisting on talking to the MC before she pulls him aside and whispers instructions in his ear. By the time he announces Madeleine's name, he is furious. He is actively resisting in the only way he knows how.

Liam, stickler for rules, demanded an audience with the suitor he loved just as the night was drawing to a close, just minutes after being crowned. He insisted on it. He called out her name in public. Not in anger, not in suspicion, but in shock. All this in front of his family, in front of the court and other suitors and the press. At that point it almost didn't matter that his mask of self-composure was slipping in front of a crowd. He didn't stop insisting and trying to buy time until his parents forced him to follow the Coronation rule. That might not seem like such a risk, but with the background he comes from, it is.

We must realise that his love for the MC develops over time, and so do the changes that love has brought in him. From being resigned to choosing someone he could just hope to be fond of and slightly compatible with, his experience with the MC proves to him that any bond lesser than love will be detrimental to his marriage and detrimental to Cordonia.

At the end, Liam finds himself living out the words he said, mere months ago, while visiting Lady Liberty.

#the royal romance #trr #trr liam #prince liam #king liam #liam x mc #love #coronation #applewood manor #hedge mazes #nevrakis chateau #crownflameking #part2

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azuregold · 8 years ago

Note

(struggling to figure out how to ask all of them... also obv no spoilers ;u;) okay for character specific questions: 13 I don't think I've questioned any character's actions so ┐( シ)┌ 14 I guess Zoro?? maybe Travis 21 tell me about the human experiences of Luffy! 22 Zoro 30 eh just ramble about the Straw Hats living human lives? 42, 43, 49 & 50 all of the crew when they were in Earthverse !

These were fun! Well, most of them. For questions 21, 30, 42, 43, 49, and 50…they aren't things I've thought too much about before. I'm not in the right frame of mind to try at the moment and I didn't want to let the ask sit there unanswered until I did manage to think of something, so I'm just going to go ahead and skip them for now, sorry! ^^;

1: what inspires you?

Having a good idea I can be excited about? IDK. X'D

2: one of your favorite comments/reviews on this chapter/verse?

I love all my comments. ;u; I love the comments that go into detail about what they thought, the comments that are just a mess of flailing, the comments that tell me they stayed up all night reading, the comments that are just a line or two to say they liked it, and everything in between. Even if I could decide on one to use as an example, I wouldn't want to make anyone feel like I didn't appreciate their comment because it didn't look like that one.

3: what motivates you?

Being excited about an idea, getting to write a part I've been looking forward to, getting a nice comment on a fic, having the house to myself.

4: what time of the day/night do you like to write?

Either afternoon or at night once my mom's gone to bed.

5: do you write scenes in a linear fashion or do you write future scenes/dialogues sometimes?

I'll write snippets of future scenes if I think of something I don't want to lose, but otherwise I write pretty much linearly (aside from going back to rewrite previous scenes/chapters).

6: hardest/easiest character to write for?

I don't know if any of them are easy, exactly. It also depends on the scene and what they're going to be doing. Sometimes I know exactly how they'll behave, and sometimes I just can't picture how a character would react to a particular event or line of dialogue.

But generally Zoro isn't too bad. (Also Travis, because he's my character, though that still doesn't mean I know how he'll respond to things all the time, unfortunately.) Hardest is probably Flirty!Sanji and Franky. I've never tried writing from Franky's point of view, but he's hard enough from someone else's that I'm not eager to try. Chopper and Robin aren't too bad from someone else's POV, but I think I might have trouble writing from theirs. And Luffy can be difficult occasionally, depending on the situation. (Also Sven is hard, even though he’s my character.)

7: hardest/easiest verse to write for?

Well, I only have one at the moment, so… ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Though once I actually start writing some of my other ideas, I have a feeling Mistyverse will still be the easiest, just because I've been working in it for so long.

8: (if you have either or both) how do you manage time with writing, work, school etc.?

Very badly. ^^;; I'm terrible at time management.

9: what tv shows, books, or movies inspire for this verse, if any?

Story-wise, I can't think of anything specific (there may have been and I've just forgotten, but). Character-wise, Archer from Fate/Stay Night and Furuya Rei/Amuro Tōru/Bourbon from Detective Conan were a big influence when I was developing Travis.

10: any writing advice?

I don't feel confident enough to give advice to other people, haha.

11: (if you use) what do you like about archiveofourown?

The tag system. It can be very helpful in finding a certain subject or giving me a better idea of what the fic is about. Also the "mark for later" option. And the ability to have a series. It makes it much easier not to miss things when there are multiple fics in a story. And I like that the author isn't sent a notice when someone subscribes/can’t see the names of people who have subscribed. I feel much less awkward about subscribing to fics that are years old or about a very guilty pleasure. :P

12: anything you would do to make archiveofourown different/change it?

I…kind of have a list…

– Add a way to sort subscriptions by fandom! Sometimes I want to reread fic for a particular series and if I don't remember the title(s), going through multiple pages of fics and opening them one by one is such a pain.

– Give us a way to mark main vs. minor characters and relationships in fics. It's really annoying searching for fics about a certain character or pairing and getting dozens of fics that focus on someone/thing else entirely, with whatever you were looking for getting maybe a couple of scenes in the background. I've seen authors try to tag things to indicate this themselves, but most (including me ^^; ) don't do it, and in any case, I'd like an actual option I can mark in a search.

– It'd be cool to be able to put spoiler warnings on tags. Click to view, highlight, something.

– Filter IDs are very helpful, but it would be so much easier if we could just click a button to exclude things like explicit fics, “multi” fics (I’m so tired of being overrun with smutty “multi” fics when I search for “gen” without a filter), NOTPs, fandoms I don’t like…and so on.

– Being able to choose whether or not crossovers are included in the search results. I like a good crossover, but sometimes I just want fics for the one series.

– Don’t have author replies count under total number of comments. Also a PM system would be nice.

(If any of this is possible and it’s just that I don’t know about it, someone please tell me. X’D)

14: what is the arc for this character (redemption, etc.)?

I find it hard to put things like this into words (and I don't want to give spoilers), so…I'm going to pass on this as well. ^^;

15: ask me any spoilers you’re curious about for a verse, and i’ll post the answer in the tags

I'm glad you didn't ask for any because usually I love giving spoilers but we're far enough into the story now that most things I could say are Big Spoilers for the climax/ending that I really don't want to give away ahead of time. So thanks for not tempting me. XD

16: do you ever hand write? why or why not?

Once in a long while, if I think of a line I don't want to forget after I've turned my computer off, I'll jot it down on a notepad so I'll remember it the next day. Otherwise, no. My handwriting is slow as molasses and makes my hand tired. ^^;

17: do you listen to music while you write?

Almost always. 8D Just instrumentals, though.

18: any fanmixes you’ve made for this fic/verse?

Not really, no. I have a playlist I use when I'm writing scenes with Travis, and I'm working on one for fight scenes in general, but that's the closest I've got.

19: any edits or art you’ve made for this fic/verse/any edits readers have made? if not, what visuals would you use for one?

All the art I've posted for Mistyverse is here (If I get any fanart in the future, that's where it will be, too). I have quite a bit of art I haven't posted, mostly of Travis or unfinished attempts to draw specific scenes (I have an attempted map of the island in OtMS that I'm too embarrassed to look at again X'D).

20: what songs were you listening to during this scene/chapter?Mostly I just shuffle my giant instrumental playlist. Or if I'm in the mood for something new, I go looking on YouTube or similar places for writing playlists. As far as music for specific scenes/chapters, I think I pretty much covered that in question 13 here.

22: favorite line/quote/inner monologue from this character?

Zoro… At the moment, probably:

Zoro's heart had nearly stopped when he'd seen those hands. Or it would have, if he'd still had one.

Damn it, when did I start stealing Brook's lines?

23: feelings on epistolary fic?

It can be interesting. c: I like it best when letters/diary entries/whatever are mixed with more traditional narrative, but they can make for a fun story.

24: do you outline?

Yep! Not super-detailed outlines, usually, but I prefer having some sense of where things are going.

25: if you outline, do you edit it frequently?

Not that often, no. I don't think I've even looked at the outline for FMaA in a while, actually, because things got very vague toward the end, outside of a few specifics, and I have most of the necessary info in my head at this point.

26: anything you’re planning to write in your fic that you’re worried readers might like?

I think this is supposed to be "that you're worried readers might not like". Because otherwise…why would someone liking my stuff make me worried? Barring creepy stalkers and the like. Assuming it's "not"…

Ohhh yeah. I might hide under the covers for about a week when I post those parts… X’D

27: when you read fic, how often do you comment?

Not…very often. ;;OTL I know how much comments mean to writers, especially now that I've had firsthand experience, but I still find it a difficult thing to do. And lately, when I do comment, more often than not I do it anonymously, even if all I have to say is praise. It's just more comfortable for me that way. If I leave a signed in comment, it usually means I really liked the fic.

28: any scene/line you wrote that you didn’t expect to write/that surprised you once it was written?

Uhh…first thing that comes to mind is when they were at the museum and got roped into playing themselves. I had planned for their disguises to be seen through and for it to be assumed that they were cosplaying, but the rest of it just sort of happened. Including Maya; I knew she was going to be in the story, but I didn’t know she was going to be on that island or working at the museum until she showed up in the fruit room. X’D I don’t even remember how I was originally going to introduce her, except that it was going to be a lot closer to the end.

29: do you eat or drink anything while you write?

Not while I'm writing, but I like to have a drink and sometimes a snack before I start. Most often chai. It helps me get in the mood.

32: what are your stats for this story/verse?

Is…this supposed to mean, like…number of kudos/comments/hits. etc? If it means something else, someone tell me and I'll adjust my answer. :P

Just doing the two main fics (and on FFN the shorts are part of OtMS anyway, so):

On the Misty Shore

AO3 – Kudos: 75, Comments: 11, Bookmarks: 10, Hits: 1350

FFN – Reviews: 86, Favorites: 165, Followers: 63, Communities: 1, Views: 21,005

From Mist and Ashes

AO3 – Kudos: 117, Comments: 37, Bookmarks: 17, Hits: 1739

FFN – Reviews: 94, Favorites: 101, Followers: 129, Views: 11.433

33: favorite one-shot you’ve written?

Ah…hmm. I haven't actually written any one-shots as in "self-contained, stand-alone story" yet (I have plans!). Out of the one-shot extras that I wrote for Mistyverse…maybe Proof? It was the most self-indulgent of the three and the most fun to write.

34: a scene/paragraph you wrote that you’re proud of

I'm pretty happy with most of the stuff in chapters 18 and 19…and the scene in 16 where Zoro reveals himself…and Zoro and Travis’s fight in the museum in 15…and probably more that I’m not thinking of, but I’m not going to reread the whole thing again right now. :P

35: any foreshadowing/symbolism you wrote that you hope readers didn’t miss?

Yes, but at the same time I hope most people don't put the pieces together until things get revealed later.

36: any scenes you wrote that parallel the canon verse?

I guess maybe the stuff with Zoro and Chidori in 17? Kind of?

37: do you use quotes in the beginning notes/intro to your chapters? if so, what are some of your favorites/what are their significance?

Nope, I don't.

38: do you title your chapters? what’s your favorite chapter title? what’s its significance/why did you choose it?

Yes, I love titling chapters. Even when I can't think of anything good. Favorite chapter title is definitely Law and Order. Because it has a double meaning/pun (the structure and rules of Whitestone + Law showing up at the end).

39: any alternate fic titles you were considering for this verse?

I had a couple others I was playing with, at least for FMaA, but who knows what they were? Not me. XD

40: chapter you’re most proud of in this verse?

At the moment, I'd say it's a tossup between 15, 16, 18, and 19.

41: chapter that was the most fun to write in this verse?

Hmm. 12 was the easiest, and it's always fun when I'm not struggling with a chapter. The whole arc on Crinia (chapters 13 – 15) was pretty fun, even when it got difficult. 18 – 19, too. And I felt like chapter 20 was crap while I was writing it, but it was silly fun, and it doesn't seem as terrible when I reread it now.

44: have you shared your outline with anyone? if so, what did they think of it?

The outline itself, no. Parts of it are pretty different from what I actually ended up writing; it might be fun to share some of it sometime. c:

45: anyone you share excerpts with?

*pokes you* And I've posted a few here before, too. They're usually pretty short, though. Just a line or two.

46: story with the most kudos (AO3)?

From Mist and Ashes.

47: story with the most comments?

From Mist and Ashes again. :P

48: a happy future moment you’ve written/have planned for this ship? (will post under read more for spoilers)

*ignores the "ship" part* Hmm…I have no idea if I'll ever actually write it, but in my list of ideas for FMaA bonus scenes I have one where Zoro cooks for everyone (just because he can't eat anymore doesn't mean he can't cook—he lived on that island by himself for a long time before he died, after all). Also (for the benefit of anyone else reading this), sircerenade and I have discussed Brook and Zoro bonding over stuff before (being "grandpa figures", sharing skull/ghost jokes, etc.). Some of it may be more bittersweet than happy, but it’s a cute bittersweet, so.

#From Mist and Ashes

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thisdaynews · 7 years ago

Text

Breaking News: What you don't know about Donald Trump's Youngest Son Barron Trump

New Post has been published on https://www.thisdaynews.net/2018/05/24/breaking-news-what-you-dont-know-about-donald-trumps-youngest-son-barron-trump/

Breaking News: What you don't know about Donald Trump's Youngest Son Barron Trump

Most of the Trump children have become well-known to the public over the years, but Barron remains a family outlier. The 11-year old son of the President first captivated the eyes of the world late on Election Night when he stood behind his father on the stage while victory was accepted. Barron, of course, looked more sleepy than jubilant on stage, which inadvertently won over the cold hearts of an America that was mostly happy the election cycle was finally over. Who is this young Simba-like figure? It’s time we get familiar with America’s new boy-prince, Barron Trump.

He’s the only child of Donald and Melania

One thing about the incoming First Family to take note of is that it has a little bit more sprawl than the last one, owing to Donald Trump’s multiple children by three wives. Barron Trump, the youngest of the clan, is but one branch of a family tree that includes Ivanka, Eric, and Donald Jr., born to Donald’s first wife, Ivana Trump; and daughter Tiffany, born to Donald’s second wife, Marla Maples.

As for Barron, he’s the only child of Donald and Melania Knauss Trump, and was born on March 20, 2006. Until recently, he lived with his mom in their Trump Tower penthouse on Fifth Avenue in New York City, while dad moved into the White House after assuming his new role as POTUS. Donald and Melania were married about a year prior to Barron’s birth, in January 2005.

His delayed move to the White House was because of school

As of this writing, Barron and his mother have officially joined President Trump in residence at the White House. But the reason they stayed behind wasn’t because of the lack of gold plating in the West Wing. It was so Barron could finish out his year at the prestigious and very-expensive Columbia Grammar and Preparatory School, where he attended through the end of the school year.

Reassuring him that he’d be able to finish out his year at the school that Us Weekly reports has a price tag of around $45,000 per year, Barron’s mom told him, “Take it day by day, enjoy your life, live your meaningful life as I like to do.” We’re not sure the then-10-year-old Barron was able to process such a life-changing move through the lens of that fortune cookie wisdom, but he did get to finish the year with his friends and classmates. Although things at the school definitely changed after November 8th, 2016…

Parents at Barron’s school had a post-Election freakout

Anyone who has so much tried to walk near Trump Tower will tell you that Donald Trump’s presidential victory has created major headaches for the city of New York. Apparently, though, few people were more worried than the parents at Columbia Grammar and Preparatory School. “Some parents are freaking out and worked up about security and what the school is going to do,” a board member told Vanity Fair. Some are worried about safety concerns; others are reportedly annoyed about various inconveniences—like, you know, the time the school’s sole elevator was blocked off for Melania for an open house event in 2016.

The school even had a real life scare scenario in March of 2017 when a lockdown procedure was put into place after a suspicious vehicle was spotted outside the building. According to The New York Daily News, “a military-style bag in a beat-up blue and silver pick-up truck with an Indiana license plate” was reported to police as a “suspicious package,” triggering a bomb squad response and the school’s reactionary security procedure. It’s a frightening scenario for any school, but one that carries additional weight when the President’s son happens to be enrolled there.

He’s the first boy to live in the White House in decades

Now that Barron’s actually made it to Washington, he has officially become the first boy to grace the halls of the White House in almost 60 years. Yep, the last time America had a “First Boy” was all the way back in 1961, when John F. Kennedy’s son, JFK Jr., moved into the White House when he was just a baby, according to CNN.

And Barron made his entrance to the presidential residence in true Trump fashion, exiting Marine One and strolling across the White House lawn to his new digs while wearing a shirt emblazoned with the words ‘The Expert.’ And here we thought Uncle Jared was the boy wonder of the family.

He’s not into wearing sweatpants

As one might expect from someone born into a billion-dollar business family, little Barron has been dressing for success pretty much his entire life. He even wore a suit to the launch of his half-sister Ivanka’s book when he was only three-and-a-half-years-old, according to People magazine.

“He’s not a sweatpants child,” Melania said while discussing her son with ABC News in 2013. “He doesn’t mind putting on [a suit]-but not every day- and he likes to dress up in a tie sometimes like Daddy.” But that’s not to say that Barron doesn’t like a little comfort. In fact, he sometimes pairs his prep school uniform with customized New Balance sneakers that reportedly cost $149, according to Footwear News. Yep, you read that right. The Trumps pay $149 for Barron’s sneakers and something called Footwear News actually exists in reality.

He used to moisturize his skin with caviar

If you needed further proof that Barron isn’t your typical 10 year old, try this one on for size: in 2013, his mother admitted to ABC News that, at the time, she applied her own line of caviar-infused moisturizer to his skin after he took his his nightly bath. “It smells very, very fresh,” Melania said of her Caviar Complex C6 skin care line. “I put it on him from head to toe. He likes it.”

Unfortunately for the two of them, this tradition may have been short-lived; according to Racked, Melania’s skin care line fell apart shortly after its high-profile launch.

He takes after his father

Given that he loves to wear suits and moisturize his skin with caviar, it should surprise exactly no one that Melania often refers to her only son as “little Donald” and “mini-Donald.” “He is a very strong-minded, very special, smart boy,” Melania told Parenting. “He is independent and opinionated and knows exactly what he wants. Sometimes I call him little Donald. He is a mixture of us in looks, but his personality is why I call him little Donald.”

“When he was 5 years old, he wanted to be like daddy: a businessman and golfer,” she added later in the interview. “He loves to build something and tear it down and build something else. He is very detailed at drawing. We travel often and he remembers everything he sees. Sometimes later the same day or the next he would build something like he saw or imagine something himself.”

In a 2013 interview with ABC News, Melania again referred to Barron as “mini-Donald,” which if we’re being honest, has to sting a little for Barron’s older half-brother, the actual Donald Jr.

He may or may not have a nanny

In a September 2015 interview with People magazine, Donald and Melania insisted they did not use a nanny to help raise Barron. “I like to be hands-on,” Melania told the magazine. “I think it’s very important. Barron is 9 years old. He needs somebody as a parent there, so I am with him all the time. As you know my husband is traveling all the time.”

Days after the interview was published, Donald, in true form, told the New York Post that there was, in fact, a “young woman” who “works with Barron.” Still, to this day, reports describe Melania as being “really devoted” to her son; a source told the Post in November 2016 that Melania is often seen picking up Barron from school. That same source also claimed that Melania had not relied on nannies to help raise her kid. So, who knows what the heck is going on?

Donald didn’t change his diapers

In that same interview with Parenting, Melania said of her husband, “He didn’t change diapers and I am completely fine with that. It is not important to me. It’s all about what works for you. It’s very important to know the person you’re with. And we know our roles. I didn’t want him to change the diapers or put Barron to bed. I love every minute of it.”

But that’s not to say that Donald wasn’t a doting dad in his own way. Melania also said that he and Barron love to play golf, eat dinner together and “enjoy family time” at Mar-a-Lago, the family’s Florida getaway. Golf and dinner, huh? Sounds a bit more like the closing of a business deal than a loving father-son day.

He’s fluent in two languages

Although he reportedly takes after his father, Barron has also inherited his mother’s roots as well. According to a 2016 interview with GQ magazine, Melania revealed that Barron “speaks Slovenian fluently.” In fact, he speaks the language with his grandparents, who live near Trump Tower, according to the interview.

Melania also once bragged to People in 2009 that at just three-years-old, Barron was also speaking French in addition to Slovenian and English. But two years later, during an appearance on The Joy Behar Show, Melania said, “Barron speaks two languages completely perfect. He goes from one thing to another, Slovenian/English.” What happened to French? Was he just not fluent enough to mention it yet? Does Barron Trump own a beret? These are questions of national importance that need an answer.

He lives like a king

In her interview with Parenting, Melania also dropped the bombshell news that Barron’s digs at Trump Tower are so sweet, he actually has an entire floor to himself, complete with his own personal flourishes that include the incorporation of “planes and helicopters” into the decor of the rest of the house. Not only that, but it was no big deal if he wanted to draw all over the walls, because “we can paint it over,” she said. With that kind of set-up, it’s no wonder that they weren’t in a rush to move him into the White House.

And though he’s not getting his own wing of the executive residence, his lifestyle isn’t exactly getting downgraded. According to Inquisitr, the White House has a staff of 100 people who “will know what every member of the Trump family likes, as far as food, snacks, and personal items. This will be stocked and waiting for the family so they can obtain it at a moment’s notice.” Rumors even swirled that Barron’s getting a Goldendoodle puppy, named Patton, to go along with his new home, so at least if he gets homesick, he’ll have a new buddy around to cheer him up.

He’ll probably stay out of the spotlight

With his official appearances thus far limited to the Inauguration Day festivities and the White House Easter Egg Roll, it remains to be seen how involved with public life Barron will be. But if history is an indicator, young children of past presidents have mostly steered clear of the public eye.

And it seems like Melania intends to uphold that tradition as well. In an October 2016 interview with ABC News, Melania said she is hoping to shield him from the public as best she can. “I teach him, I explain to him so he knows what’s going on,” she said. “And—he’s—he’s taking very well. I keep him balanced and—just have him a childhood as normal as possible. And he’s enjoying his school and his sports. He’s a great athlete. And I just want to have him—out of the spotlight for now.” Even though they’ve since moved to Washington, her stance on wanting her son to have as normal a life as possible probably hasn’t changed.

He will attend St. Andrew’s Episcopal School

Just weeks ahead of Melania and Barron’s move to Washington, the First Lady released a statement regarding the family’s choice for Barron’s matriculation in the fall of 2017. He’s headed to St. Andrew’s Episcopal School in Potomac, MD, which according to The Washington Post will cost approximately $40,000 per year. In addition to the school’s prestigious reputation — it boasts that 100% of its graduates go on to some type of higher education — St. Andrew’s has a range of impressive facilities, including “a 14,000-volume, two-story library with an audiovisual classroom and a periodical reading room; a multipurpose theater/assembly/lunch space that features a stage and light/sound booth; two visual arts studios with ceramics wheels and a kiln; a darkroom; two full-size basketball courts; a fitness room; a dance studio; and two full turf fields for softball, baseball, lacrosse and soccer.” Nice.

Barron will be the first child of a sitting president to attend St. Andrew’s, though the school does claim other famous alumni, like eBay founder Pierre Omidyar. Maybe if Barron plays his cards right, he might end up rich like that guy some day.

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