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xutokawa · 4 years ago

Note

aahh the s/o finding scratch marks is fulfilling my angst needs 😭🤚🏽 could u maybe do one with bokuto & suna 🥺 i love your writing so much!! xx

pairings: suna x reader, bokuto x reader

genre(s): fluff to angst, cheating

warnings: langauge, cheating

wc: 2.3k

» masterlist

a/n: thank you for your support! I tried adding more plot to it this time hehe. breaking bokuto’s heart broke mine bro :( hope you like it! also TYSM GUYS FOR 200 FOLLOWERS FDJSKF i love every single one of yu :D <3 mwah mwah mwah

atsumu and oikawa ver.

osamu and iwazumi ver.

kuroo and sakusa ver.

akaashi and hinata ver.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Suna

“Rin, hand me the soy sauce,” you asked, not looking up from the dish you were stir frying.

“Get it yourself,” Suna teased back. Rolling your eyes, you stuck out your hand. Laughing, Suna came up behind you, placing the bottle of soy sauce in your hands before wrapping his arms around your waist. His hands snuck under your shirt, laying on your bare stomach. You leaned back into his chest, sighing contently. The two of you rarely had time together anymore. While you were burying yourself in your work in hopes for a promotion, Suna was busy with practices that extended throughout the whole day. Both of you were exhausted by the time you came home to your apartment together, unable to muster the energy to do anything except fall asleep in each other’s arms.

“Mmm, you smell good,” Suna said, taking a deep breath into your neck.

“I think that’s the fried rice you’re smelling,” you joked back. Butterflies stormed your stomach as Suna’s hands gently massaged your sides. Even after living with the middle blocker for three years, he never failed to make you feel like a crushing high school student. Suddenly, Suna’s gentle hands grew antsy, teasingly tickling your sides. Jumping, you tell him, “Rin, stop! I’m going to spill something!”

“I think I’ll keep going,” Suna teased back, his hands continuing to tickle you. With one poke to your side, your entire body jerked, causing the soy sauce in your hand to fling into the air, and onto Suna’s shirt.

“Y/n! I really liked this shirt!” Suna whined.

“That’s your fault, baby. I told you to stop,” you shrugged, laughing at his expression.

“Whatever, I’m going to go change,” Suna pouted, turning away.

As you finished cooking, you went into your shared bedroom to tell Suna dinner was ready. You were stopped in your tracks, however, when you saw his changing form. Back to you, long scratch marks ran down the length of his back. Scratches that were not put there by you.

“R-rin, what is this?” You asked, voice beginning to waver.

Suna spun around, eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights.

“Y/n! Why didn’t you knock?” Suna nervously asked, rushing to push his t-shirt over his head, “It’s nothing, babe, just uh, got in a fight!”

“Are you sure it was a fight? Or was it a late night in someone else's bed?” You asked accusingly, brows furrowing. Would your Suna cheat on you? You had felt pretty secure about your relationship before now, never having a reason to doubt your trust in your boyfriend. Yet, you couldn’t find it in yourself to make excuses for the lines raked down his back.

Pain and guilt flashed across Suna’s eyes, and that’s when you knew. You were wrong to believe you gave him everything he needed in a relationship.

“Look, y/n, we can figure this out, just let me-” Suna began.

“Please, stop,” you choked out, eyes welling up with tears. The middle blocker felt his heart shatter watching you back away from him as if he were a plague.

“No, you don’t understand! I can’t lose you like this,” Suna said, walking towards you, wanting nothing more than to pull you in his arms and wipe your tears away. He stopped in his tracks, however, when you flinched away from his touch, hatred flickering in your eyes. At that moment, Suna felt like the scum of the earth.

“Please, get away from me. Get out of this room, get out of this apartment! I don’t need your excuses,” You said, voice raising. When you finally looked up to meet Suna’s eyes, you found nothing but despair and regret.

“No! I won’t leave you, y/n! You don’t understand how much I need-” Suna started.

“Don’t give me that bullshit, Rintarou,” you scoffed. The pain in Suna’s chest grew at the use of his full name.

“I-it’s Rin. You always call me Rin. Please, call me Rin,” Suna pleaded, voice beginning to shake, “Stop distancing yourself from me. I’m your Rin. Please, don’t leave. I’m so sorry, let me make it up to you!”

“You’re a pathetic piece of shit, Rintarou! Cheating on me and then begging for me to stay and forgive you? Tell me, what was your plan? Did you just want a quick fuck one night? Or did you plan to keep cheating on me for the rest of our relationship?” You angrily walked towards him. Suna watched as the love you once held in your eyes for him turned into agony. He felt himself crumple knowing he was the sole cause of your anger and hurt.

“No! It was a mistake! Please, let me make it up to you,” Suna reached for your hands, desperate to have you with him.

“The only mistake that was made here was me trusting you,” You said, spinning around as you headed for the door. Suna physically flinched at your words, hurt and shame flooding his body. Panic filled his mind at the sound of your keys jingling and the sound of you putting on your shoes.

“Wait! Y/n, where are you going? Please don’t leave, it’s not safe for you to go out right now. Just stay and let us talk about it,” Suna pleaded, walking up behind you.

“I’d rather be anywhere but here with you right now,” you coldly replied, reaching out for the door handle. Suna rushed to stop you from turning the knob.

“Please, y/n, I can’t handle you leaving me,” Suna whispered.

“Just leave it, Suna. No amount of begging or love can fix my trust for you,” you replied, back towards his sobbing figure. Suna finally fell to his knees in defeat as you walked out of the apartment, knowing he lost you forever.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Bokuto

“Ugh, I’m so ready to just relax,” you sighed out, dramatically splaying your arms across the center console in your fiancé’s car. A tingle ran up your spine at the sound of Bokuto chuckling from beside you, not taking his eyes off the road. You could never get used to his laugh, no matter how many times you’ve heard it.

“I know, baby. You deserve it,” Bokuto replied, taking one hand off the steering wheel to place on your thigh, giving a light squeeze. The two of you had been insanely busy the month leading up to this trip. From your boss’ unrelenting demands at work to your family’s constant nagging and opinions on your wedding decorations, the two of you just needed to catch a break. So, when Bokuto brought up the idea of a weekend beach trip, you immediately agreed, jumping up and down in excitement.

The beaming sun immediately warmed your skin as you stepped out of the car. Warmth spread through your body as you glanced back at Bokuto as he started pulling out your stuff from the trunk, looking up to flash you his smile you had fallen in love with ages ago.

“You go on ahead and find a spot for us, I’ll follow in a second,” Bokuto called out to you. Giving a thumbs up, you started towards the gleaming ocean, excitement filling your body as you felt the sand beneath your feet. Finally, choosing a spot, you unfolded your beach chair, spreading your towel across the top. A smile settled on your face as you laid down, sunglasses shielding your eyes from the harsh rays. Your eyes drifted closed, the sounds of waves crashing and children giggling putting you in a serene state.

Bokuto chuckled at your appearance before setting up his own beach chair next to you, situating a beach umbrella between the two chairs. He felt his heart speed up as he gazed at your relaxing figure, wanting nothing more than to cover your face in kisses. The spiker felt so much love for you, so he felt nothing but confusion as to how he woke up in another person’s bed two nights ago, naked. His adoration for you was replaced with guilt. Bokuto still hadn’t figured out how to approach the situation, how to tell you without you breaking off the engagement. He wanted nothing more than to watch you walk down the aisle in a few months, than to have children running around the two of you as you prepared dinner, than to grow old with you by his side. Bokuto was still unsure of what happened that night to cause him to slip out of a random person’s apartment in his clothes from the previous night.

The spiker was shook from his thoughts at the sound of your voice.

“Are you going into the water?” you asked, looking up at him.

“Yeah, I think I will just to cool off,” Bokuto replied, pulling his shirt over his head.

“Okay, I’ll join you in a bit, I just want to lay for a little longer,” you replied to him, closing your eyes again.

“Okay, baby. Take your time,” Bokuto said, placing a kiss on your forehead before starting towards the water. You giggled as you watched your fiancé run towards the ocean. Your laughter quickly died, however, once you saw his back.

Your eyes widen with a mixture of shock and confusion, racking your brain for an explanation for the long, red strips that lined your fiance's back, but, no matter how hard you thought, nothing came up. The past month had been too hectic for the two of you to ever get close to intimate. Tears began pricking your eyes as the realization that Bokuto had cheated on you settled in your mind.

Does he know he has scratch marks on his back? Is this his subtle way of telling me he wants to end this? That I wasn’t enough for him?

As soon as Bokuto hit the ocean, the salty water stung his back. His initial confusion as to where the pain came from was quickly replaced with realization. He shot up at the water, turning to watch you get up from your seat.

Maybe they didn’t see, he hoped. His hopes, however, were quickly crushed as his heart dropped to his feet. You began to gather your things, rummaging through Bokuto’s belongings until you found the keys to his car.

Panicking, Bokuto ran out of the ocean as fast as he could, cursing at the water for resisting his movements. He watched helplessly as you began walking back towards the parking lot. You saw. You saw the scratch marks, and now you were leaving Bokuto. The spiker’s worst nightmares were turning into a reality right in front of his eyes.

The dull shouting of your name from down the beach sounded in your ears. You ignored Bokuto’s incessant calls for you, the ache in your heart overpowering every emotion you were feeling.

Bokuto ran through the sand as fast as he could, hoping to catch up to you before you left his life forever. His lungs and legs were screaming, but the pain was nothing compared to the pain of you leaving. Panic rose in his eyes as he watched you get into the driver's seat, starting the engine to his car.

Wiping the tears from your eyes, you took a shaky breath, a weak attempt to try and calm your heart. You looked down at your engagement ring, memories of that night flashing through your mind, forcing another sob to rack your body knowing that your memories now meant nothing. Banging on the car window startled you as you looked up to find a panicked Bokuto. His frantic words were muffled as you watched him desperately attempt to stop you from leaving.

“Please, y/n, roll down the window. Let me explain, please,” Bokuto blabbered, “Y/n, please don’t leave me, you have to let me explain. I love you! I want to marry you, and you only!”

Anger surged through your body as you scoffed at his words. Rage blinded your thoughts at the mention of your impending marriage. How dare he tell you he wants to get married after cheating on you? Your brain didn’t have time to process your movements as you pulled your ring off your left hand. You watched as a glimmer of hope flickered in Bokuto’s eyes as you began to roll down the window, only to have his eyes widen in pain and shock as you handed him your engagement ring.

“You’re really a piece of shit, Bokuto. You know that?” Tears began welling up in the spiker’s eyes as he stared at the piece of metal that laid in his hands.

“No, y/n, please. Give me your hand, please,” Bokuto frantically pleaded, reaching for your hand. The ring in his hand belonged nowhere else except your ring finger.

“Just stop, Bokuto, you’ve already ruined everything,” you scoffed out. As his eyes met yours, he was met with a whirlwind of hurt, shame, and pity. That’s when he realized. To you, he was pathetic. The love and adoration that made your eyes shine brighter than the sun was now replaced with hatred and pain, making them burn greater than the depths of hell.

Bokuto’s heart shattered into pieces knowing you would never love him the same, knowing he broke your trust.

“I-,” Bokuto paused, unsure of what else he could say to get you back.

“I’m sorry, y/n” the man in front of you choked out. Bokuto felt helpless as he watched you roll up your window and drive away from him, leaving him in shattered pieces.

That night, when Bokuto finally returned to his shared apartment, the reality of the situation hit him. The empty aura filling the space that he used to share with you was all it took for Bokuto to fall onto his knees, becoming a shell of his former self. You were gone.

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nugnthopkns · 3 years ago

Text

dance me to the end of love (iv)

word count: 4.1k

warnings: fem!oc, cursing, alcohol consumption

series masterpost: here

a/n: my apologies for the delay!! life got crazy for a bit but i'm back with my two favourite idiot intellectuals

Magdalene stays busy to keep the loneliness at bay.

All of her friends have left Denver, doing whatever it is that hockey players and their partners do in the off-season. She never expected them to stay to keep her company, and would certainly never ask. Besides, they were all so excited to go home and visit family. How could she disrupt their happiness just so she wouldn’t feel so alone? It isn’t her fault that Ryan, Bette, and company aren’t estranged from their families like she is. At twenty-five she should be a little more self sufficient than what she currently is, but Magdalene is working hard at being kinder to herself.

To combat the pervasive loneliness Magdalene spends a lot of time in the heart of downtown Denver. Under normal circumstances she would hate the crowds, but now they comfort her. The swaths of tourists walking the streets and approaching her to take family photos make her feel like a part of something bigger than the pity she finds herself wallowing in often. Barn Owl Books also becomes a frequent retreat when she has downtime, and the owners enjoy when she brings Caligula around. Other patrons adore the white cat and he loves the attention.

One day as she’s leaving work, once again offering to stay late so June doesn’t have to, Magdalene’s phone rings. She contemplates not picking it up, wanting nothing more than to curl into bed with the novel she picked up at Barn Owl the other day, but she knows it must be important. No one ever calls her around this time unless it’s absolutely necessary. Digging the phone out of her pocket, she sees the number of her building superintendent Paul flashing on the screen.

“Hello?”

“Miss Stevenson?” he asks, voice tinged with the toughness that comes with dealing with upset renters on a regular basis.

Magdalene chuckles at the formality, pointing out he hasn’t called her by her last name since she moved in five years ago. “Yeah Paul, it’s me. What’s up?”

There’s the crackle of static on the phone line as the man clears his throat. “So, uh, some bad news.” Magdalene’s stomach twists into an intricate knot. She knows she paid rent on time and can’t think of another reason he’d call her. “A sprinkler main on the floor above yours burst about an hour ago, and it’s pretty bad. Your place definitely got hit the hardest because it’s directly under where the pipe burst. You’re going to have to move out for at least two months while we gut the place and start from scratch. How quickly can you come and get the things that are salvageable from your apartment?”

“Fuck.” This is the worst news Magdalene has ever received. “I can be there in fifteen minutes,” she panics, “But Paul, you’ve gotta go inside and check on my cat. He’s going to be freaking out.”

Paul agrees to visit Caligula after some prodding, and Magdalene drives much faster than she ever has before through the neighbourhood. It’s far from reckless, but she knows that it isn’t the safest course of action. A police officer stops her about three minutes from her final destination but lets Magdalene go after she explains the situation as calmly as possible.

Other tenants affected by the flood are already moving boxes down the stairs when Magdalene pulls up. Everyone is understandably grief stricken, but she can’t find it in herself to console them like she would under normal circumstances. All Magdalene cares about is making sure Caligula is okay. She sprints up the four flights of stairs and doesn’t even break a sweat, adrenaline flooding her veins. Her apartment door is ajar, most likely from Paul entering a few minutes ago, and she flings it open with more force than probably needed. It swings back violently on its hinges and makes a spectacular crash when it hits the wall.

“Caligula?”

“He’s in the bathroom,” Paul sighs. “I can’t get him out of the tub but he’s still breathing. Is he not scared of water?”

Magdalene lets out a breath of relief she didn’t know she was holding in. She treads deeper into the apartment, casually assessing the damage, before reaching the room in question. There, pressed against the far corner of the tub, is the fluffy white cat that Magdalene’s heart beats for most days. Paul is there too, leaning against the sink and shaking his head.

“Thank you,” Magdalene says sincerely. “I’ve got it from here.”

The superintendent exits the unit with a solemn goodbye and heads to the lobby, no doubt going to direct traffic flow and answer questions. It takes a few minutes but Magdalene coaxes the cat out of the tub and into her arms. She holds him tightly and whispers words of praise, knowing it will help to calm them both down. After an uncounted amount of minutes Magdalene moves them into the bedroom, that looks surprisingly intact upon first glance, and changes out of her work clothes and into something more suitable for rummaging around her destroyed home. Caligula climbs up her body and settles gingerly into the hood on her sweatshirt. She starts in the bedroom, and finds that the only thing that’s actually salvageable is the clothes in her closet. Grabbing the suitcase from the top shelf, Magdalene shoves everything inside of it and wheels it into the living room.

She spends the next few hours going through every room in a meticulous manner, desperate to keep relics from her life in Denver. The water did a number on her space and destroyed almost everything. All the furniture is a write-off, and most of her books and records are ruined. Two things that withstood the damage are faux marble busts of Augustus and Marcus Aurelius, which Magdalene packs into one of the boxes Paul dropped off. Everything else fits in three other boxes and they’re tucked into the trunk of her car before the sun sets. Paul insists that the demolition company will get rid of everything else and ensures her she won’t have to pay rent while the construction is going on. It isn’t much of a consultation, considering that Magdalene has no idea where she’ll be staying, but she thanks him anyways as she makes the final trip to her car with Caligula.

Once inside, Magdalene breaks down. She has no idea what to do – no one is in Denver to help her out and she can’t afford to stay in a hotel for however many months this is going to take to fix. Tyson and Bette will be back in just over a month, but Magdalene doesn’t want to bother them or guilt them into coming back early. She cries in the driver’s seat of her car for a while, Caligula on her lap and doing his best to lick up the tears streaming down her cheeks. Not knowing what else to do, she dials Ryan’s number. Though they haven’t been talking as frequently due to the time difference and Magdalene’s insistence he enjoys his time with family, she knows he’ll pick up and listen intently. He’ll also hopefully talk her down from the imaginary ledge she’s found herself on.

He picks up on the second ring. “How’s my favourite girl?” Ryan asks, and Magdalene can hear the smile in his voice. The combination of his voice and the words spoken has her choking on another sob. “Hey, hey, breathe.” Concern is now the primary emotion expressed through the phone line. “Mags, what’s the matter?”

It takes her a few seconds and multiple pads of Caligula’s paws into her stomach for Magdalene to calm down, but she eventually tells Ryan what happened. He listens just as she thought he would, and keeps her breathing steady with his voice. She cries a bit more before running out of tears, but Ryan keeps her focussed on anything but the shitty circumstance she’s found herself victim to – detailing how he skated with Nate earlier in the day and just how many times his teammate kicked his ass. Hearing the mundane story helps more than Magdalene thought it would, and when Ryan asks her where she’s going to stay she responds with a relatively strong voice.

“I’m just going to sleep in my car.”

“Fuck no you aren’t.” The certainty in which Ryan utters the words takes Magdalene by surprise. For someone so far away, he has a lot of opinions on what she should be doing.

She sighs. “There isn’t another option Ry. I can’t afford a hotel for the months my apartment is going to be out of commission and there’s no point in renting another place.”

“Stay with me.”

A series of flabbergasted noises come out of Magdalene’s dropped jaw, but she can’t form any words. Ryan continues, “Think about Caligula. Being cramped in a car isn’t going to be good for him. Or for you. I have an extra bedroom you can call your own for as long as you need. Please Mags.”

Truthfully, it’s the best she’s going to get. Bette and Tyson offered to house a couple of rookies this season, meaning their spare rooms are filled, and there’s no one else she’s close enough with to think about asking. “I don’t want to intrude,” she sighs, but it isn’t a very convincing deflection.

“I want you there,” Ryan insists, “And little boots too.”

It takes them a while to work out the logistics, but Ryan makes a couple of calls and lets the doorman of his building know Magdalene is moving in. He also books a flight for the next day, and ensures her that he’s more than ready to come back to Colorado. They talk for a few more minutes, and in that time she gets directions to her temporary home. Once Ryan hangs up with well wishes and a see-you-soon, Magdalene looks in her rear-view mirror and sets out for a part of Denver she never thought she’d live in.

☼☼☼☼

When Magdalene calls Bette to fill her in on what’s been going on while on the way to pick Ryan up from the airport, the blonde is taken aback by the surplus of information. “Hold on,” she breathes, “Ryan’s coming back to Denver?”

“What part of ‘I’m on my way to the airport to pick up Ryan’ was confusing?” Magdalene laughs.

Her friend doesn’t find the jest funny. “Fuck off.” The comment only increases Magdalene’s laughter, but Bette forges on with the conversation. “Can you recap the events that led to Ryan leaving home nearly three weeks early?”

Magdalene indulges her friend, explaining for what feels like the hundredth time that her apartment was destroyed in a flood and that Ryan offered her his spare bedroom and that he was coming home so she wouldn’t be alone in the unfamiliar environment. Bette listens in silence, and Magdalene imagines she has a shit-eating grin plastered on her face. She’s made quite a few comments about how friendly the two of them seem, but Magdalene does her best to shrug them off. Ryan can just be her friend, a great one even, without Bette projecting her need to have her best friend to have an identical lifestyle to her. Even if she’s right, and Magdalene does want there to be something more between her and Ryan.

“Hold the phone.” Magdalene hears Tyson shout, no doubt getting closer to his girlfriend so he can join in on the conversation. “Gravy’s letting you stay at his place?”

“Yeah…” she trails off, unsure about what wasn’t clear this time.

Tyson hums as though he’s an old-school anthropologist who just made an astute observation about the group they’re studying. “Interesting.”

“How so?”

“Well for starters, he barely lets us hang out at his place,” Tyson explains. “I think I’ve been there maybe twice. So that’s new. Is Caligula staying with you?”

Magdalene is completely confused. “Why wouldn’t he be? He’s my cat.”

“How does Gravy feel about it?”

“What the fuck are you getting at Tys?” Magdalene asks, but there’s a bite to the question. She’s tired of the impromptu interrogation he’s providing. “Because Ryan was excited to have him around. Last night I sent him a video of little boots prancing around the condo like he owned the place and he thought it was hilarious.”

Bette, who had been silent for several minutes, gasps loudly. Tyson laughs, but Magdalene can tell it’s riddled with disbelief. “Mags,” he says gently, though with more than enough teasing laced in, “Gravy isn’t a big pet guy.”

The comment hits Magdalene like a tonne of bricks. What is she supposed to do with that information? There’s only ten more minutes until she gets to the airport, and she needs time to push Tyson’s comment to the back of her brain and collect herself. Magdalene gives a rushed farewell before hanging up the phone and checking her rearview mirror and blindspots. The radio filters back through the car speakers, but she doesn’t hear it, too caught up in what Ryan allowing Caligula to share his space means. There’s little traffic on the off-ramp and before she knows it Magdalene is pulling into a parking space and killing the engine.

She grabs the messily scribbled welcome home banner from the back seat before locking the doors and heading inside to the arrivals section. The inside of the airport looks similar to the empty parking lot – it’s a Tuesday after all. Only a few others wait with her for the plane, and many chat idly amongst themselves. Magdalene stays off to the side in an attempt to not get sucked into a conversation about the upcoming thunderstorm. Passengers slowly trickle through the open door, and Ryan is easy to spot. He towers above everyone and is carrying a rather large bag of hockey equipment. Magdalene smiles at the sight of him, unable to help herself. It’s been nearly a month and a half since she’s seen him and being apart for that long is something she never wants to do again.

“Hi,” she breathes as he approaches, waving awkwardly while she speaks. It’s as though she hasn’t spent countless hours talking with him about every possible topic her mind could dream up.

Ryan doesn’t feel the tension, or if he does he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he wraps her in a tight hug that lasts a touch longer than one with just a friend should, especially in public. Magdalene tries hard not to melt into his side but it’s nearly impossible – Ryan has a magnetic pull that tugs on her heartstrings and makes her insides feel fuzzy. Others bustling around the terminal start to give them strange looks, and it’s only then that Ryan clears his throat and untangles his arms from Magdalene’s waist.

He smiles down at the strong-willed brunette with kind eyes and shoulders his bag once more. “Let’s go home.”

☼☼☼☼

It takes a few days to settle into a routine, but once they do it’s glorious. Training camp doesn’t start for another three weeks, so Ryan spends his day doing light workouts and chilling with Caligula while Magdalene is at work. Once she gets home they make dinner and watch West Wing reruns on the cable network Ryan didn’t know he was even paying for. Their lives fit together seamlessly and it surprises Magdalene just how much she missed having a roommate – Bette moved out after their sophomore year of college, and it’s been just her and Caligula ever since. Though the personal space is nice, she likes being able to hear Ryan laugh at the meme she just sent or knocking on his door in the middle of night to ask if he wants ice cream.

Magdalene wakes up one Saturday to complete silence. It’s unsettling considering she hasn’t heard that since adopting her pet – Caligula sleeps next to her head and breathes loud enough that she’ll never have to buy a white noise machine. She notices her door is slightly ajar and hears soft noises coming from the living room. Ryan must be taking a day off, Magdalene notes, because he’s typically out of the house by seven and it’s currently five minutes past eight. She rolls out of bed and stumbles into the ensuite, brushing the tangles out of her hair and washing her face.

Not bothering to change out the pyjama pants and hoodie she stole from Ryan, Magdalene pads into the sunlit living room to see her roommate doing yoga. On a tiny mat beside him is Caligula, stretching his limbs like he’s following along with the tutorial. The sight is adorable, and before she can think twice about it Magdalene is snapping a photo of the two of them and posting it to her Instagram story.

“You trying to whip my cat into shape Graves?” Magdalene teases, weaving around them and plopping onto the couch, bringing her knees to her chin and holding in a yawn.

Ryan laughs, loud and care-free, and Magdalene wishes he could record the sound and play it on loop. “He kept trying to sit underneath me and I didn’t want to hurt him. I read somewhere that if you give a cat something similar to what you’re doing they’ll leave you alone. Guess it really works.”

Her heart constricts in the best way possible. Ryan continues to go above and beyond to make her and Caligula welcome and doesn’t seem to mind they’re the ones invading his space and not the other way around. There’s still twenty minutes left on the YouTube video he’s watching, so Magdalene pushes herself off the expensive leather sectional and into the kitchen. The least she could do is make breakfast. Deciding on pancakes, Magdalene gets to work prepping the batter and warming up the frying pan. She hums absentmindedly to the Joni Mitchell song playing on the small radio she placed in the kitchen window. Music always made cooking more enjoyable for her, and Ryan doesn’t seem to mind the device taking up space.

The island is set and the food ready by the time Ryan slides into his seat, small beads of sweat lingering on his forehead from the workout. Magdalene resists the urge to wipe them away and instead busies herself with placing the right amount of berries on his plate.

“Mags,” Ryan calls softly, pulling her out of her mind and back down to Earth. “That’s more than enough. Sit down and eat before it gets cold.”

They eat in silence until Caligula appears, meowing for whatever scraps he can get his hands on. Against Magdalene’s pleas Ryan feeds him a blueberry. The cat sniffs it inquisitively before swallowing it, though it comes up again a few moments later.

“You’re cleaning that one up bud,” she laughs, bending down to make sure Caligula is okay before rinsing her plate in the sink.

“Fuck.”

Ryan does as he’s told and helps Magdalene with the dishes before getting ready to head out for an unofficial team meeting. Camp starts in a few days and Gabe wants to get together and make sure they’re all on the same page before barreling head-first into the season. He promises to pick them up a late lunch of sandwiches from Barn Owl and Magdalene follows him to the door to say goodbye. It feels natural, like they’ve always shared this routine, and she knows that Ryan feels it too because he wraps her in a tight hug before petting Caligula one last time and slipping out the door.

Bette calls soon after he leaves and grills Magdalene on all the details of her new living arrangement. She’s still in Canada, spending a few more days there than Tyson to help his mom and sister finish unpacking their things at the house they recently purchased.

“So, have you kissed him yet?”

The question is asked in such a casual, Bette-like manner that Magdalene barely chokes on her water. “Bee, what the fuck?”

“Oh come off it Mags,” she sighs, “You like him. He likes you. The two of you live together now. It’s only a matter of time before the friendship turns into something more.”

The blonde is right about at least one thing – Magdalene has developed a steady crush on Ryan. She should have known being in such close proximity to him all the time would put her feelings into overdrive. However, she didn’t have another option other than to accept his offer when it was proposed nearly a month ago, so Magdalene is now being forced to deal with the repercussions.

“I have, in fact, not kissed Ryan,” Magdalene huffs. “But I’ve thought about it once or twice.”

A squeal tears from Bette’s throat and she forces her friend to share the details. Magdalene obliges mostly to get her off her back, but it does feel good to talk about it with someone. It’s a very long time since she’s had romantic feelings for anyone, and Magdalene is nearly giddy with excitement over the possibility of new-found love by the time Ryan gets home. She says farewell to Bette and promises to come over as soon as they're both in the same city again.

It’s later than both of them expected, so they decide to forgo lunch and instead cook an early dinner. Ryan wants chicken and Magdalene wants spaghetti, so naturally they compromise on a carbonara without the pork. The radio is cranked to the highest volume as they work, both singing along and in their own little worlds. Magdalene is in charge of cooking the pasta and Ryan sets about making the sauce, and more than once she catches him looking at her while he’s supposed to be stirring the mixture. She can’t be too mad, however, because each time their eyes meet she’s supposed to be doing her job too. Before too much time has passed the meal is ready. It cools on two plates while Caligula is fed and wine is poured – the former done by Magdalene because the cat still isn’t quite comfortable enough with Ryan. Once sitting, they raise their glasses in a silent toast and dig in. The pasta tastes heavenly, and Magdalene makes sure to say so.

“Oh my god this is delicious,” she nearly moans, “You have to make this like every night.”

Ryan laughs and raises his fingers in mock salute. “You got it boss.”

Conversation flows into how they spent their hours apart – Ryan gushing about how good it was to see his teammates again and Magdalene talking about how she caught up with Bette on the phone. She of course left out the part where she confessed feelings for her best friend to her other, more senior best friend. Dinner passes in the blink of an eye and soon the two of them are standing side by side at the sink, elbows knocking occasionally as they do the dishes.

“Want to watch a movie tonight?” Ryan asks nonchalantly. “You said earlier this week you wanted to see Clueless again.”

Magdalene smiles – of course he would remember this offhand comment she made a few days ago about the classic. “That sounds fantastic. Can you finish putting these away? I’m going to pop a couple blankets in the dryer to warm up and see if I can get a nice picture of the sunset for Bette, she mentioned on the phone that she’s missing it.”

“She literally hasn’t changed time zones!”

Laughter tumbles from Magdalene’s lips as she slips out of the kitchen. Two fluffy blankets are pulled from the back of the couch on her way down the hall and tossed into the machine. Grabbing the same sweater of Ryan’s she was wearing earlier in the day from the foot of her bed, Magdalene heads for the balcony door and slips through the glass.

The city is nearly silent. Cars pass under Ryan’s balcony like blips in the night, but they don’t dare touch the peaceful atmosphere radiating from Magdalene. She’s had one of the best nights of her life, just her and Ryan laughing over glasses of wine and the pasta dish they cooked together. It’s all so domestic and charged with stolen glances and soft smiles that Magdalene knows it’s more than two friends living together for a short period of time. There’s been a fundamental shift in their relationship but she doesn’t know how to address it, or if she even wants to despite her looming attraction. Being with Ryan is so easy that she forgets it’s only temporary. Realistically she knows it can’t last forever, but she finds herself hoping each day Paul will call and tell her the rebuild is taking longer than expected.

Ryan calls her inside, informing her the blankets are out of the dryer and the movie she picked out days ago is queued up on the television. Magdalene takes a deep breath and finishes her glass of wine in one gulp. Hopefully he won’t notice when she casually leans in and rests her head on his shoulder halfway through the film.

☼☼☼☼

taglist: @scrunchmakar @marcoscandellas @toplinetommy @samsteel @lovethepreds @cutiesara23 @hockeyallthetime @stlbluesbrat21 @denis-scorianov @danglesnipecelly @c-tangerine @stormingroses @spine-buster (add yourself to the taglist!)

#ryan graves imagine #ryan graves x oc #ryan graves fic #colorado avalanche imagine #nhl imagine #nhl fic #hockey imagine #hockey fic #cwrites #dmtteol

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kissme-hs · 4 years ago

Text

Tainted Love : 2

Here’s awaited part 2 of our recent heartbreak. I would very much appreciate the feedback and suggestions for further improving my writing skills. Also, thank you everyone who showed me love and support it means a lot. I haven’t proof read it so I apologise for any mistakes. I hope you all like it!!

-Ria

Warnings: none

Pairing : Reader x Chris Evans

Tainted love : 1

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Once a cheater, always a cheater. If you can let you heart drag your feelings from the person you believed you loved to a stranger who’s looks were so mesmerizing it made you tremble break the trust your person put in you, you are nothing but a sinner. The sin of crushing someone’s heart for your greedy needs, the heart which would die to give you love is worst than any other.

You thought this whole time Chris wasn’t the one to be blamed. You thought he went to seek comfort and warmth which you failed to give him for a few days. You thought he felt lonely just because you were working so hard to be accepted in his glamorous world. The blame was on you, as per YOU. But oh boy how wrong you were. The kind heart you carried took the blame of Chris’s sin. Poor you who thought maybe just maybe if you gave him your time things would be different. You left thinking maybe this is what fate wanted.

No.

It was never you. Being a kind person came with cons of being taken advantage of. You neither were neither dumb to be fooled easily nor were you the cleverest not once not falling for someone’s fake tears. Your generosity was one of the beautiful traits that made Chris fall in love. Your empathetic self always tried helping the world as much as you could. You were indeed a piece of art he chose to love.

The fault wasn’t yours. He knew. He was aware of how much you were working hard to be accepted in his world of fame, to stand up to expectations of his fans and people surrounding him in being The Chris Evans’s girlfriend. And he appreciated it. Chris was grateful for what you were doing. He was thankful to the lord for bringing such an angel in his life filling it up with joy and happiness. For giving him someone who loved him so dearly he felt the world moved beneath his feet. He was so in love with you even till the date he was on top of that lady. But the thing is, it all did not start when you became busy, it all started way before.

He wouldn’t like saying it was a mistake because it wasn’t. A mistake is an action you do unwilling without any intention. The very first second she pressed her lips to his and he kissed her back was unintentionally as it was a reflex respond of his lips getting used to kissing yours. But the moment after when he pulled her back in grabbing her by her throat was the minute he lost his defense of calling it a mistake. He was well aware and sober enough to know what he was doing. None of the actions ‘just happened’ he chose to do it. It was his own decision sneaking out of the house just to get a taste of her. He forgot about the woman lying beside him dreaming of a beautiful life for the both of them. No longer had Chris started enjoying the feeling of her body connected to his. The new taste got him addicted. The growing lust overshadowed the emotions he had for you.

“I love the way you take me in baby” Chris bite her ear as he thrust in her body bringing himself to the edge.

“Just like your girlfriend does” She smirked and for a second it felt like the realization hit his mind. He looked at the lying lady beneath him and searched for the face he fell for but couldn’t find it. His mind wandered to your face taking in your beauty but the feeling of lust overcame his thoughts.

“Even better”

The feeling of devastation was real as you stumbled out of the house with an aching heart. Your eyes were blurred with the tears he caused you caused because in the back of your head it was your entire fault. The sound of your clicking heels echoed the empty parkway as you quickly rushed to get seated in your car before getting noticed by your neighbors or hiding paps. There was no sun out that day. The sky was dull and grey and soon you heard the rain drop on your roof. Seemed like the universe was helping you, signaling you to let the pain out as you let out a loud cry. If anyone stood outside, it’d hard for them to figure out that you were yelling In ache because of the rain muffling your broken voice.

Every sob reminded you of the time Chris promised you he wouldn’t make you cry.

But here you were sitting with broken promises and tainted love.

Even though Chris was finding someone else attractive, it didn’t mean he stopped caring about you. He missed you with every breath he took, he missed you when he looked at the photos hung on the wall, he missed you looking at the t-shirts you’ve worn. He knew he was up to no good when he decided to still keep holding onto you when he was seeing someone else. He would not deny that he is as selfish man when it came to you. Him fucking her, never changed the fact that at the end of the day it YOU who he thinks of. So when you were almost two days late coming from the business trip he panicked. Yes, he should’ve called to check on you but that’s the thing. There were bare phone calls, bare test messages, bare kisses and almost to nothing of I love you’s.

His mind blurred with the most regretting thoughts, none of them close to him cheating on you but instead something bad happening to you. Little did he know, you already saw the worst of all.

“Hey where are you” He typed in biting his lips, the little voice in his head hinting that you might’ve come across to his dirty little secret but brushing it off he hit the send button. And the wait began. He waited for an hour, two hours and soon he fell asleep waiting for you to text him back. He was sprawled on the couch when his phone buzzed awaking him from his little dream-land.

“Hey Chris,

I came home. I was standing right in front of you but you were so blinded by the beauty of your mistress that you couldn’t see the girl you love once loved. I am sorry for not loving you enough Chris. I am sorry you felt the need to seek love from someone else. Only if I was able to give you the happiness you wouldn’t have done what you did. Please don’t be mad at yourself because I know you will, because I know no one can stop you from caring about me. The way you look at her tells me enough to let you go. And so I will. I hope you find happiness in her. But it won’t change the fact that I still love you, dearly and heavily like I always did.

Take care,

I love you Chris.”

With just mere words he felt his world crashing down. He can’t imagine the pain you felt when the man you loved was fucking another girl in the same bed you made love on. For the first time the guilt crawled up his throat as he let out a gasp, his breath became heavy and his hands went cold. How could he never even once think what would happen if you saw it? How could he not. Just imagining you in bed with someone else feels like getting punched in the guts and makes him want to strangle the man then how could he do the same to you. And oh poor you, he thought. Took the blame on you, left him to be without putting up a fight.

For a second he was disappointed hearing you just give up but then he realized, he was the one who started it. When he saw her working hard day and night he should’ve held you tight, telling you how much he loved you, how much he appreciated you but instead he carried on with his little fling.

His eyes picking up tears and his stomach churning with regret. He did not know what to do. The shame was eating him alive knowing he had the best in the world but he still went for something which was nothing but an illusion.

He promised to give you the love in fairytales but gave you a tainted one instead.

—

Sorry if this didn’t turn out as you thought it would. I wanted to keep things real and based on my personal opinions I would never give a person who cheated on me a second chance.

Tags

@captainchrisstan

@evansphnx12

#Chris evans #chris evans x neutral reader #chris evans x you #chris evans headers #chris evans x y/n #chris evans x wife!reader #chris evansxreader #chris evans smut #chris evans x reader #Chris evans writings #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans imagines #Chris evans fics #marvel #marvel imagines #marvel fics #Steve Rogers #steve rodgers x reader #steve rogers x y/n

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corpsentry · 4 years ago

Note

allahrakhii (dot) tumblr (dot) com/post/148596180152/honestly-the-depths-of-ignorance-of-white-people

this is a really good post for those who want to learn more about the harmful portrayal of brown women in the legend of zelda series. theres a bunch of helpful links that direct to articles throughout the post as well. if you scroll through a bit youll find the section that covers why the gerudo outfit is racist.

i would appreciate if you post this and not simply brush it aside! this message isnt intended to be hostile or offensive, but rather it is an opportunity for learning and discussion. thank you.

i find the insinuation that i might brush this aside rather ominous anon! first of all, thank you for sharing this post. as someone vaguely from southeast asia i uncovered another facet of the fuckcluster of internalized racism in my system while reading it and will be thinking about it for a while to come. the post is well-written and thoughtfully phrased, plus op provides links to several other resources that i’ll be checking out in my free time too so i’d recommend anyone passing by here give it a read. i also want to apologize for responding to the earlier ask (now deleted) where op was like ‘how is the gerudo outfit racist’ and i was like ‘fuck all if i know’. i was talking out of my ass and failed to consider alternate perspectives. i retract that statement and replace it with this much longer and much more eloquent one.

now everything from here on is frankly quite unrelated to this ask so to the person who sent it please feel free to stop reading right here right now from high school musical as i want to talk about the previous anon message i received and some general stuff regarding fandom and none of that has anything to do with you (you are lovely and the rest of the world is a shithole).

i don’t know if the original anon who sent the ‘i like your art but the gerudo outfit racist :(’ is gonna see this but let’s take a moment to unpack it. i’m not quite sure what anon was going for with this ask. what did they want from me? did they want me to apologize for drawing and posting it? did they want me to delete the post? did they expect me to say oh thank you so much!!! sorry about the racism xd or did they want me to call up shigeru miyamoto and be like ‘hey dude your shit’s racist’ and then take down the entire nintendo corporation in one fell swoop like i was somehow implicated in either the development process or the game by pure merit of drawing fanart of it(????). this was the shit running through my head when i woke up at 6 am this morning because jetlag and opened tumblr and there was this Person sitting there trying to :( me. what’s up with the :(. why are you :(. what do you want from me.

this is where the second anon above comes in. relative to this ask, if the first anon had so much as dropped one (1) link to one (1) post explaining how the outfit might be racist (and taken out the :(, which is lame) then instead of being like ‘which reaction image should i use for this’ i would’ve been like ‘oh here’s something i didn’t know about the world and here’s how i can learn more’. ‘your art great but this racist u___u’ reads like someone trying to guilt-trip someone for shits and giggles. a B grade on a paper is useless unless your prof tells you where you went wrong and before anyone Calls Me Out i’m going to acknowledge that there is a broader issue with marginalized groups having to bear the burden of ‘explaining themselves’ to privileged people who aren’t willing to go and seek information on their own, but let’s just look at this ask for a moment.

what the fuck is this??? what am i even supposed to do with a statement that not only tells me nothing but also seems to have no clear purpose? i am sitting here drawing video game fanart in a college dorm in pennsylvania and i know like 3 things about western media because i don’t like live-action film. if you want to have a conversation please give me something to work with instead of trying to sound sad in my askbox. i can’t turn your :( into a :) because i have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about because i am not god (yet) (although i am trying to).

but let’s talk bigger. racist stereotypes are a huge fucking problem in everything the ideological west gets its hands on. i promise you i know this because i grew up in singapore where the racism was directed towards everyone including ourselves because sir dickbag raffles stuck a flag in the ground and then ruined everything. i can see how nintendo has replicated those racist stereotypes, especially given that east asian countries generally have a long history of racism towards black and brown people. singapore fucks with it too because we’re majority chinese-singaporean and majority lighter-skinned (relatively speaking). op makes a lot of excellent points. perpetuating stereotypes in popular media serves to reinforce racist ideas and further entrench discriminatory beliefs. it’s a chicken egg chicken egg thing. people are socialized into racist beliefs. they create media with racist depictions. young people consume said media and are socialized into racist beliefs. and so on. egg chicken egg chicken.

so, question: where does fanwork figure into all of this? is that 5k ganlink (is this the ship name lol idk if it’s wrong feel free to take me out with a bazooka) e-rated smutfic the egg or the chicken? who is it socializing? who’s writing it? what kind of audience is it reaching? and, more broadly speaking, what is fandom here for, and what does fandom want to achieve?

here we’re going to take a huge detour into another very popular disco horse (at least on twitter i have fuckall clue what’s going on on tumblr at all times) of the present times: the wmulti level wmarketing (wlw) discussion. it is statistically true that there are far less f/f fics on ao3 than m/m fics and f/m fics. this clearly reflects something about fandom’s habits, but the floor is divided. in fact, the floor is on fucking fire all the time. several arguments have been made over the years, of which 1) media creates less-nuanced female characters which makes them harder to connect to (mass media’s fault) and 2) everyone is a gay fetishizer (the individual’s fault) are, arguably, the most popular.

as a head ass philosophy student i’m going to pick the option no one likes and say that i think it’s a combination of all of these factors. and i’m going to step out further and say that people are so inseparable from our communities and societies that it’s impossible to tell where external influence ends and personal preference begins. what this means, more simply, is i think that both individual arguments are insufficient. media is fucking complicated and so are people so imagine when you put all of this shit together on one webpage and then you light a match. tell me, bethany, can you truly say that you like twinkies because You Like Twinkies or was it that advertisement you saw at the bus stop every day for eight years that finally got to you? are you trying to rebel against society’s fear of fatness? are you depressed? do you just like sweet things, and anyway, can anyone “just like” something?

now let’s transplant this issue of societal/self influence (a fandom friendly version of the nature/nurture argument, if you will) onto fandom. so okay, there aren’t a lot of f/f fics. what do?

some popular options i’ve seen are: 1) make angry posts/tweets about how everyone sleeps on f/f relationships in fandom and we’re all secretly lesbophobic 2) call everyone a gay fetishizer 3) write f/f fic

and so here is the other (other? i don’t remember how many problems i’ve listed lol i’m trying here guys) problem: fandom doesn’t have a single cohesive goal. like people don’t come to fandom and then sign a 5 page contract at the end of which is the company vision. everyone comes here to do their own shit. some people use fandom as a means of escape. some people are trying to spread a message (like the evangelists) or educate the youth. some people fuck around and find out.

concept: if the goal of fandom was social activism, then the argument could be made that We Should Write More f/f fics. that make sense to you? because there’s something we’re all striving towards, we can agree that we have an obligation to our community to do something. but the goal of fandom isn’t social activism, is it? maybe it is for you. but it isn’t for everyone here including the 14 year old kid in chinese orchestra and the 56 year old who just wants to read some good werewolf smut. and because we’re all different people who do different things and fandom is not and cannot be your entire life, we can’t make these prescriptive statements. we can’t tell people what to do. ‘people should write more f/f fics because there are very few right now’ that is a valid statement and observation. now will you write those fics? because you’re the only person whose fandom life you can control. because the point of fandom is we’re away from the rules and regulations of Society. because when people are told they can do what they want they will do what they want and if you tell them to do something else, it’s hard to fault them for not taking kindly to it. i’ve written 5k character studies. it’s work. not everyone wants to do that work. that’s why i do it.

detour end and now we return to the chicken egg problem. in my opinion, the shit we create in fandom isn’t the chicken or the egg. it’s the onsen egg that’s been placed on top of your ramen. it’s a product of several complex societal processes, but now it’s here you and maybe the dude sitting across from you are the only ones, by and large, that it’s going to affect. this onsen egg isn’t for the children of the world (broadcast via disney+). this onsen egg isn’t for the politicians who’ll decide on the policy of your country for the next hundred years. they’re not even going to see it because it’s a fucking onsen egg now and no one has taste anymore these days except for yourself, which is why this onsen egg is just for you. put in clearer terms, i agree with op that people in fandom often replicate societal bias in their work (people are copy machines, bethany), but i don’t think most fanfiction has the power to influence society the way that popular media can (see: marvel movies, i dunno, fucking, like, austin powers?), and to critique it with the same mindset we use to critique tony stark is to say that we earnestly think every 15k smutfic is going to be read by millions of people of all ages from across the world. which is not the case. ao3 has a thing you have to click if you’re not logged in you know where you have to agree that you’re 18 or older o read adult stuff. if you lie about that that’s your own goddamn problem. they asked.

and now, part 2, we come around to several interesting points made in the post. op mentioned that ganon is often portrayed as hypersexual (which is fascinating to me i don’t read e rated fic I See What Zelda Fandom Is Doing) or just fucks a lot in general. since i don’t go here i will take op’s word and roll with it, but i have my own word to add: so ganon fucks- what do we do? do we tell people to stop writing fics where ganon fucks? do we force them? do we tell people to write more gen rated character studies (please join me i sit here alone and i (pensive homo stare))?

we could. but we can’t make them. and we also can’t tell them where their ideas are coming from. i don’t, like, read a lot of smutfic but i sure know that shit exists because half my friends are horny as shit and can we all agree that fandom as a whole is just super fucking horny. like yes if ganon as a whole is portrayed more often in sexual situations than the other characters in the franchise, it’s a good and fair observation that Something’s Up Here. but can we really point to individual authors? the premises mentioned in the post by op are premises i’ve seen for haikyuu fanfiction. multiple times. tens of hundreds of times. what if someone’s just really fucking horny? what if they’re replicating racist ideas taught to them by mass media? can we tell? can THEY tell?

the answer is no because humans are black boxes that can’t be opened up even if we drop into the pacific ocean and instead screech helplessly at walls all our lives. the answer is these are complex issues and i don’t think prescriptive ‘Never Write Sexy Ganon’ statements or pointing fingers at random 30 year old smutfic authors will improve the situation. the answer, or at least my answer, is that we should consume media with a critical eye and be aware of potential biases perpetuated by the authors/creators, but striving towards ideological purity is impossible on principle (i promise you everyone on this planet is problematic in some way or another because this purity thing from christianity is fucking lame and also completely fake) and so we should all give that up. my personal answer is i’ve learned a lot about stereotypes about middle eastern and south asian people and i’ll take all this info with me moving forward, but i honestly and earnestly do not think me drawing link and zelda in dumbass princess jasmine outfits is going to directly correlate with an increase in racism as observed in the island city-state of singapore. i am aware now. that’s a good thing. but just like how the h*rry potter fandom has completely detached itself from its horrible creator and now fucks around in its own space doing its own thing, i think it’s fully possible to engage with flawed media because, surprise surprise, all the media in the world is flawed.

#asks #anon #Anonymous #my stuff

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delldarling · 4 years ago

Text

bait & glamour | merrick

chasing truth | chapter seven male faerie x gender/body neutral reader 2586 words sfw | a few teasingly suggestive comments about faerie ointment chapter index? or chapter six?

⊱ ────── .⋅ 🜁 ⋅. ────── ⊰

When Merrick arrives, there shouldn’t be any time for idle chit-chat or emotions.

There shouldn’t be time for anything more than gather your things, let’s go. He doesn’t kiss you, though his eyes dart to your lips, and he doesn’t embrace you, but he does invade your space, the toes of his shoes bumping up against yours, like he’s had difficulty stopping himself. Those dark eyes of his search your face as he slips his hand into yours, his lips trembling the longer you’re silent. His hand is colder than normal, calluses catching against your palm as his fingers lace with yours. For just a second, mouth curling into a barely-there smile on his over bitten lips, he forgets his own strength, and he squeezes a little too hard. You don’t yelp, but as soon as you twitch his hold is softer. The embarrassment on his face is all the apology you need, but he still strokes his thumb carefully over the pinch, all that built up emotion leaking out in a single whoosh of a breath.

"You're alright," you get out, throat tight.

“Stole the words right out of my mouth,” Merrick teases.

“Lovely to see you too,” Gar interrupts in a sarcastic tone, eyebrows arched. He rolls his shoulder, nervously shuffling his feet, drawing attention to the fact that you and Merrick are… most definitely blocking the doorway. Awkwardly, a little ashamed of how caught up you both were with one another, you move out of the way. Gar closes the front door as soon as Merrick follows you further inside, locking it for good measure. He turns on his heel, sparing both of you a strange look before he’s darting around you to head back into the kitchen. Merrick only acknowledges him with a wrinkle of his nose, eyes locked on Gar’s gloveless green hands before his attention is back on you again.

“I’m glad you’re in one piece,” you tell him, forcing a grin as he holds out a small bag of your things. It bumps against your chest, he’s so close, but he doesn’t step back. You don’t really want to let go of him either, but you figure you should let him have a second with Gar before you all have to rush out the door. Time is terribly short. You squeeze his hand one last time and take the bag from him.

He steps away reluctantly, and only when you tilt your head towards the kitchen, urging him in to catch up with his friend, does he move any farther. He needs to address Gar’s secrets, and his own stand off with his fellow assassin, and you doubt that he’ll be able to do it with you hovering, bag clutched to your chest, all but forgotten.

You dig quickly through your things as soon as he walks away, kind of wanting to laugh as you do. He’s gotten enough clothes for a three day trip, and they look nice enough, but it’s your phone and the snarl of charging cords that makes you laugh. The phone is off, and he’s gotten the correct phone charger, but there are two that go to other, completely unrelated, devices. You hold yourself back from asking about it, asking where he even found them. Now isn’t the time, and you’d rather save the joke for a more appropriate environment.

“I’m glad the two of you are unharmed,” Merrick says, and you can’t help angling your head so you can see the both of them out of the corner of your eye. They’re facing off in the kitchen, and though Merrick is taller than you, Gar is taller than him. Not by much, but between the seriousness on their faces and the tense lines of their shoulders, it’s enough to make them look like they're squaring up for a fight.

A beat, and then Gar brandishes Merrick’s cap at him, like some kind of peace offering. He smiles wryly when Merrick takes it, a quick little grin on his lips as he pulls it on. Merrick doesn’t thank him though, just waits, and with a start, you notice the fancy blade hanging oddly through one of his belt loops. It’s only staying in place because he’s resting his hand on the pommel, weighing it down.

“I think we should move on, before we start having our talk,” Gar says after a moment, hesitating before he turns back to the plastic bags on the counter. He’s throwing foods of all kinds in the bags, though the amount of fruit in them is overkill in your opinion. Both of them seem to be obsessed with the stuff, which shouldn’t amuse you as much as it does. “You aren’t injured?” He continues, unable to help himself, hands pausing on the door of an open cupboard, shoulders tense.

“Roran doesn’t want to hurt me,” Merrick murmurs, peering into one of the plastic bags. He sounds almost.. Ashamed. “Not yet, anyway. But you’re right. We need to get out of here. I lost Roran in a crowd, and I doubled back a few times, so it should take him a few minutes. He’s going to head back to the skies soon though,” Merrick sighs, slumping back against the counter.

Gar halts his packing and turns to look Merrick in the eye, skin growing almost waxy-looking with worry. “What is it?”

“Em and the others,” Merrick starts, turning to include you in the conversation. Your eyes are drawn to his mouth, the spot of bright red in the corner. It’s a bruise, or maybe even a spot of blood. Maybe Roran hadn’t wanted to leave lasting damage, but he had hurt him. “They weren’t far from your apartment,” he says, eyes darting to your face and then back to Gar. “When the police arrived, and Roran and I fought, they all... They counted the windows,” he says, like either of you might think it was his fault that they’d realized. “And as soon as they heard the police mention the floor number they were worried. And loud.”

You glance down at the phone in your bag, understanding now why the phone is off. They’d probably been calling you nonstop. If Merrick wanted any chance of getting out of there without the phone going haywire, he would have had to turn it off.

“Roran heard them talking?” Gar asks, and for just a second you think you see his bottom lip quiver. He’s worried, ridiculously so. You’ve never seen Gar so drawn in on himself, but you’re fairly sure you understand. You’ve known that Gar has cared for one of your friends for.. Too damn long now, but he’d never made any kind of move. His reasoning seems much more feasible now that you know what he is.

“Yes,” Merrick sighs and then turns to you, eyes dropping down to his bag sitting near your feet. “I think we have plenty, Gar. We need to get going now, and I have a plan,” he tosses over his shoulder, walking towards you when Gar doesn’t move. “We can draw Roran away from our friends, but we need to hurry.”

Gar unfreezes, grabbing the bags of food, his keyring, and a knapsack with a large triangle emblem on the side off of the counter. “Lead the way,” he mutters, and hoists the knapsack onto his shoulder, mustering up a half hearted smile when he notices you watching him. “We’ve got people to look after, don’t we?”

All three of you trudge down to the stolen car, though you notice that Merrick says nothing about the state of that, and Merrick tells Gar in hushed tones that they need to head towards the middle of town.

“Was everyone there?” Gar can’t help but ask, shoulders hunched as he drives. Merrick is acting just as uncomfortable as Gar, though all you can see of him is the tense line of his shoulders from where you’re sitting in the back seat.

“Yeah,” Merrick mutters, after a moment too long. “Everyone was there. I’m fairly sure they’ve been trying to get in contact with all of us. You didn’t notice?” Merrick pats at his stomach, pulling out his phone—which is cracked straight down the middle now—from his hoodie pocket and swipes it open. There’s a full list of notifications across the screen, a plethora of text messages and missed calls.

Gar, if possible, hunches further into the driving seat, elbows raised awkwardly to keep the wheel steady. “I had everyone but you set to silent,” he says, so softly you worry that he’s near tears. When he turns his head though, his face is set in a stoic expression. Merrick grimaces, shifting awkwardly in his seat.

“Seeing as Merrick was kind of in mortal peril, I think everyone would understand,” you interject, before Merrick can say something scathing. “All of our friends should-”

“It’s not that they wouldn’t,” Gar starts and then bites down on the words. “Never mind. Now are you going to let us in on this plan, or am I just a get-away driver?” He demands, turning the car left and just barely avoiding someone trying to speed by. He doesn’t even blink at the near hit, though you’re fairly sure you would have been cursing up a storm.

“We’re going to cause a ruckus, glamour and all, in the town square,” Merrick states, deadpan as he digs through the food bag in his lap. He shoves an apple in his mouth and then offers the bag to you.

“You’re making yourselves bait?” You ask, taking the bag and setting it to the side. Your stomach is kind of tied up in knots. You can grab food later, when you’re not trying to draw a dangerous Faerie away from town.

Gar doesn’t disagree, doesn’t even fight that statement, but you can see his jaw working as he clenches his teeth.

“That’s it?” You add, leaning forward in your seat. “Hey, the human would like more details, if that’s okay with you,” you prompt, reaching over the back to curl your fingers around Merrick’s shoulder.

Gar snorts. “You can drive the car,” he says, in all apparent seriousness.

“The stolen car?” You ask, surprised, and mildly offended. If Gar gets caught driving something stolen, he can just wham the police with no small amount of glamour, but you?

“We aren’t using a rented one,” Gar teases, a small genuine smile pulling at his lips. “If we’re going to play some kind of tag, you wouldn’t be fast enough to keep up.”

Merrick licks a bit of apple off of his lower lip. “Roran loses his head fairly quickly. He’s, well, he’s always been prone to emotion,” he confesses, and that look of guilt is back in his eyes. “If Gar walks out there, he’ll get Roran’s attention straight off, and I won’t have any trouble shifting that focus back to me.”

“And that sounds safe,” you mutter, barely mollified by Merrick’s hand curling around yours, his thumb dipping into the spaces between your knuckles.

“You and Gar can start heading out of town, I’ll get Roran to follow us out, and then I’ll drop him-”

“You’re not even going to argue?” You ask Gar, leaning forward even further to get a better look at his face. His brown eyes are on the road though and he doesn’t have the time to spare you a glance. Traffic is getting a little worse the closer you get to the square. “What’s to stop Roran from doubling back when you drop him and going after our friends again? He doesn’t know how to use a phone, but all of our friends do and they won’t stop calling until they get some sort of answer.”

“It’s hardly foolproof,” Merrick grumbles, taking another crunching bite, eyes focused on a far distant point. He’s squinting though, like his eyes or his head are paining him, thinking about all of this. ”But I’m going to bet that Roran would rather follow me straight off. Chasing after people that may or may not work as hostages is a big waste of time. He’s never been over fond of humans and he doesn’t like playing the long game. He’d rather keep up with us, too close to give us a chance to plan.”

Gar sighs, shrugging his shoulder. “I’m willing to bet on that too, Hora-”

“Shut it,” you say, punching gently at his bicep. “I told you not to call me that.”

“You did,” he agrees. “This Roran had a one track mind earlier, and it was all for Merrick. He’s definitely more interested in getting answers out of him than in killing me, for the moment, but that’s not going to last for very long. We can use this trick to get us out of the city, but...”

Merrick points at the square through the windshield and shoves the entire apple core in his mouth. You’re fairly sure it’s simply to forestall any more potential disagreements, rather than any desire to finish it, but he eats it without complaint. As soon as Gar pulls into a parking space, Merrick pulls off his hat.

It’s startling, seeing his ears out here in broad daylight, but your eyes grow even wider when he sheds his sweatshirt. He’s in nothing but his trousers and shoes now, wings still part and parcel of his skin, masquerading as well done tattoos.

“I’m going to glamour myself as soon as I close the door,” Merrick tells you both. He glances at Gar and makes a you too motion. “Then I want you to jump in the front seat and wait for Gar to give you a signal, ma-”

“I’m sorry,” you interrupt, licking your lips. “But you said you’re going to be using glamour to hide yourselves from the humans, am I right? How am I supposed to see you if you’re glamoured?”

Merrick looks startled, like he’d never considered that but Gar only laughs.

“You have the Sight, now,” he tells you, turning in his seat to direct a megawatt grin your way. “You’ll be able to see the free for all.”

“Since when?” You demand. “All the stories say it’s something you have to be like.. Born with! I know that I’ve never seen faeries like either of you before today.”

Gar waggles his eyebrows, and then, just to be sure, makes an obnoxious kissing noise. The pieces very slowly come together.

“Are you telling me I have the ability to see Faeries now because Merrick and I… ?” You shut your mouth with a snap when Merrick covers his face. He’s red. Embarrassed. And Gar’s earlier comments are now seared into your brain.

Gar’s laughter volume doubles.

“I’ll tell you about the nitty-gritty of it all later, but the main thing is this: You’ve touched some kind of Faerie ointment. A kiss does it just fine,” he mutters, pulling his own hat from his head. You don’t jump when you see the pointed ears on Gar, you don’t, but you know you’re staring. He pulls off his gloves after that and stretches strong green fingers. “But blood can work too, or-”

“Quiet,” Merrick demands, yanking open his car door. “Hurry up and help me with this, or I’m going to push you out of the car and be done with it.”

“Don’t be like that,” Gar whines, though he shoots you a small wink as he gets out. “I was just getting to the good part!”

⊱ ────── .⋅ 🜁 ⋅. ────── ⊰

...turn the page?

#faerie boyfriend #fairy boyfriend #male faerie x reader #male fairy x reader #fae boyfriend #d.darling writes #exophilia

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gunsatthaphan · 4 years ago

Note

I lately notice alot of negative Tharntype reviews and while i am lukewarm about the entire series, i can see why. It looks like Tharntype s1 was made for an entirely different audience (one that loves the tragedy and the problematic character types in it's bls), dramatic, intense, and dark (in my opinion, on of the darkest and i have seen alot).

Tharntype s2 is was made for fans who just want more domestic Tharntype moments. The drama here is dwarfed by the batsh!t insane stuff Tharntype s1 did. (Maybe that's why TinCan too, was more sweet and had to be reset, the author didn't write it alone 😀) 7years doesn't have the intensity nor the darkness but does still have something that i find annoying. And that is blaming Type for everything bad happening in the "perfect" relationship. He couldn't come to dinner to watch a proposal, (that's normal, he had work). He has to go to work during an off day and comes home late at night,he works in a hospital (dude hospital employees have insane schedules and it isn't Type's fault his boss was a bigot). I ain't gonna mention Fiat cause he is no serious issue .Lastly, Type doesn't want to get married because he is afraid of people looking down on Tharn. While that's an entire different issue, you don't just guilt trip him Tharn, and Tharn's urgency to marriege is so "no-one can still type from him". Tharn is possessive, ok good, so is Dean form UWMA .He too, is adamant on marrying his boyfriend, but does a FAR better job at reassuring him for the future than Tharn ever did. Sure, you will say, "Tharn is broken and sensitive about breakups" but this is Tharntype 7 years later... I ain't expecting him to pass over his trauma but atleast improve their communication. If he is afraid that after 7 years they will breakup, if they truly were that incompatible ,then marriage ain't gonna do crap. So please, blame Tharn a little but too.

If you are someone who was invested in the main couple more than the drama and the side characters (and the woohoo scenes), like Tincan, you will enjoy this season.

Oh! and! (I am the long Tharntype series review anon) i remembered something that i should have included to the negative points of the series that are continued in the second season and that is P'San still draws breath. He is still here, why, why isn't he dead? Lhong did awful things and got shipped abroad, so how awful characters are is measured by how much they affect the relationship of Tharntype.

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

hello anon!

thank you for your detailed review, I’m gonna try to articulate myself the best I can and try to not repeat myself lol.

it’s interesting how you’re talking about the different audiences for season 1 and 2 because that’s how I feel too. I noticed from the start that this season has a completely different vibe to it, it’s somewhat calmer and slower, which I like, but the drama feels unnecessary and far-fetched which gives me the feel of a classic old-fashioned lakorn lol. I don’t think they actually intended to direct it towards a different audience but like you said, it feels different. and not in a good way lol. They definitely did take the fan’s wish for more domesticity into consideration and I actually like how they’re implementing it bc I’m a bitch for cute domestic moments and they do have those but... the whole thing has a very unrealistic feel to it.

Which brings me to my main point; I said this a few times before but my main problem with this season (and I’m saying this as a long-time fan who is still very much attached to the show & the characters) is that the way their relationship is portrayed does not match the timeline. Idk how else to explain it but they are not acting like they’ve been together for 7 years lmao. And the main catalyzer for that is Tharn.

Type is becoming the scapegoat for trouble in paradise just because he’s facing trouble at work, some random guy won’t stop pestering him and he is hesitant about getting married, which is not the way to go and definitely not how a relationship between 2 grown humans after 7 (!!!!) years should be handled. It’s unrealistic and an odd mannerism on Tharn’s side. In ss1 he was painted as the “mature” one and Type as the “immature” one and now it’s the other way around which is....incomprehensible and kind of ruins the viewing experience for me as Tharn seems to be developing backwards? The only thing that still has me invested is Type’s character and his development. The way Gulf is giving him a more mature feel while implementing his core characteristics from season 1 is very well done and def my favorite thing this season. Also the story around his issues at work is something that I appreciate a lot. It’s interesting and very relatable (at least to me) and I love how he goes about the situation. His actions are reasonable and it strikes a chord with me personally since I’ve had similar experiences.

But regarding realism, that’s about it for this season lol. Fiat is being portrayed as the main problem but in reality it’s not him - it’s Tharn lol. Fiat is a broken and loaded character who admittedly has an interesting story but he should not be taken seriously by anyone other than Leo (and maybe his future therapist - Which is NOT me disregarding his mental issues; I’m just saying this in regard to the jealousy situation!). So Tharn seeing him as a serious threat, without any solid reason or proof at that, is beyond ridiculous... Yes, he’s always been possessive but after 7 years (!!!! can’t stress that enough), a person like Fiat should not be such a trigger for him in my opinion....

BUT before this rant gets more fired up I’m gonna stop here lmao. We still have 2 more eps left so let’s hope it will somehow come to a good end. Also we still have the special ep in February so we’ll see how that goes. But for now I’d say I’m neutral about this season. There are things that I really like but the overall frame is just not it. but oh well...

xxx

#tharntype #tharntype 2 #review #criticism #anon #ask #doreen answers #oof this got long afterall sorry #i also agree about the lhong/san situation!#sigh #it couldve been so good #also have i mentioned the censoring?#im not someone whos thirsty for these kinds of scenes but i was pretty pissed as well ngl #hyping up a specific scene from the get go just to be like 'lol jk buy the boxset if u wanna see it lmao' is not cute....#anygay #lets put it to rest #for now #<3

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p-artsypants · 4 years ago

Text

Integrity (Part 6)

Overwhelmed with her responsibilities, guilt, and drama, Marinette has an emotional breakdown in front of everyone, and even hands over her earrings in a moment of weakness. Only for a few seconds, but the damage was done. Adrien's pretty quick on the uptake like that.

Ao3 | FF.net

Thank you everyone for the wonderful reviews! Especially with the last chapter where I took a little creative license with Luka’s reaction. I felt like he had been so passive in every situation we had seen in the show, maybe this would be the point where he puts his foot down. Either way, I’m fortunate to have very kind and mature readers! Thank you!!

—

Returning to class, everything felt sort of surreal.

As Adrien and Marinette passed their classmates, instead of awkward smiles, they were greeted with hugs. But not quite in a friendly way. A hug that one would give another after they had been in a car accident, or some similar life-changing tragedy. They never said a word either, just a hug, and then they moved on.

However, it appeared that Lila never took the hint. She stayed completely delusional in the belief that the class was on her side.

In the classroom, she was fishing for attention. Marinette heard her asking around, “hey, do you want to hear about my vacation plans to Hawaii?” And, “oh during lunch I got a call from Jagged Stone! He heard about the whole thing and called to comfort me!”

No one took the bait. Not even a ‘maybe later’. Just cold hard silence.

By the time the school day came to an end, the classmates started to speak to each other, but it wasn’t ever anything more than school and homework related. Absolutely no gossip, nothing about media consumption, nothing.

It was almost as if all friendships had been reset to zero and everyone was reconsidering what they knew about each other.

Thankfully, Nino seemed pretty solid in his loyalty to Adrien. “Hey dude,” he asked softly after the last class of the day. In the silence of the room, he was still heard pretty clearly by everyone. “If you’re not going home, where are you staying right now?”

“Oh,” Adrien tried to keep his voice even quieter. “I’m actually staying with Marinette. Chat Noir thought she was safest.”

“Chat Noir said that? I wonder why?”

“He seems to have a good opinion of her.”

“We’ve talked.” Marinette clarified. “A few times. He’s stopped on my balcony during patrol and stuff.”

There was a scoff in the back of the room. “Really? He’s stopped by your house? You’re that chummy with Chat Noir?” Lila mocked.

Before Marinette could reply, the rest of the class groaned.

“Just shut up.” Alix barked back.

“Chat Noir had to protect Marinette while I was akumatized,” Nathaniel added. “It was on the Ladyblog too.”

“Oh, so now we’re taking all interviews on the Ladyblog as gospel?” Lila huffed, crossing her arms. “Hmm, sounds like favoritism to me.”

“Except Chat Noir corroborated Marinette’s story.” Alya added. “He praised her quick thinking. He’s mentioned her in high esteem a few times.”

“Fine. But did you ever ask Ladybug about our friendship?”

Alix moaned. “Are you still talking?”

Alya forged ahead. “No, I didn’t. But Adrien said this morning that Ladybug called you out in front of him.”

“Adrien and Marinette are both liars, and everything they say should be taken with a grain of salt.” Lila sneered.

Adrien clenched his fist, about to speak, but Marinette just stood from her seat. Calmly, she packed up her bag, and shouldered it. “If this is the hill you want to die on, be my guest. If there’s anything I’ve learned from our classmates, it's that if you call someone a liar, they’ll just think you’re jealous. So good luck with all that.”

Alya inhaled a quick breath, that Marinette ignored.

“You ready to go?” She asked Adrien.

“Absolutely.” He gathered his supplies and they rushed from the room.

Once outside, Adrien let out a sigh. “What a fatal last comment.”

“Ehh, I probably went too far. But I am still kind of salty about the whole thing. I’m ready to forgive and let my bitterness go, but I’d at least like an apology first.”

“I think they definitely owe you one.”

“Maybe I’ll get more on Monday. It felt like everyone was…kinda in shock all day.”

“No kidding.”

“Chloe surprised me. I’ve been…kind of hesitant to trust her again, but what she did for you today was really something.”

Adrien almost forgot he wasn’t supposed to know about Miracle Queen, since everyone in the city, including Alya, had been in a trance. There was no coverage of it anywhere. No one knew why the auxiliary heroes were all retired, and no one knew about the Miracle Box being taken. Thank God.

“I know Chloe’s a brat, but she’s…been getting better?”

Marinette shook her head, and spoke in code, since they were out in public. “She was. Honestly, I was really proud of her and how hard she was working to be a friend again. But…the reason I’m the guardian now, it’s kind of her fault. She was the akuma. But, she did it willingly. The big bad got a hold of the Jewelry Box and offered her the Comb if she worked with him. Him getting a hold of it was my mistake…but all the other friends were revealed because of her.” She paused for a moment. “I wonder why you weren’t summoned forward too, since you had the snake and all.”

“I was inside.” He clarified. “I saw the bees swarming out in the streets, so I stayed hunkered down in my room. I guess I didn’t realize at the time it was Chloe, but with bees and all...it makes sense.” He pursed his lips. “I didn’t notice Chloe acting much different. I wonder if her standing up for us was her trying to absolve herself.”

Marinette shrugged. “She’ll have to keep it up, I’m afraid. But I can’t give her the comb again. It’s just too dangerous.”

“It’s not your responsibility to fix people, Marinette. I know you want to, but Chloe is a damaged person. She will get better in time, but you gave her several chances. You can stop.”

Marinette let out a breath. “Yeah. You’re right. Thanks Adrien.”

“Anytime.”

Desperate for a change in topic as they reached the locker room, Marinette asked, “how’d it go with Kagami? You came back kinda late so I didn’t get the chance to ask.”

“Oh, it went good. Really good.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. She said she’s over me already. I suspect she’s lying...but we had a good talk. She’s on our side at least. She doesn’t believe I could molest anyone.”

“As she should.”

“She says she hopes to hang out with you again soon.”

“I wouldn’t mind but…I think it might be a little awkward for a while.”

“She said you’d say that too.” He laughed.

“Wow, she sure does have me pegged.”

Adrien wrestled his duffle out of his locker, slinging it over his shoulder.

“Is that everything you need?” Marinette asked. “Do you need me to get Ladybug to get anything else?”

“Nope,” he shrugged. “All of my earthly possessions are in here. At least, the things I can’t live without.”

“Do you need me to carry anything?”

“Nope, I got it.”

So they headed out, not running into any of their classmates. However, as they left the locker room, they could hear yelling coming from the second floor, where their class was.

“Well, it’s not an akuma.” Adrien said with a tiny smirk.

“Should we intervene?”

“No. I think we’ve had enough drama for the last two days.”

“Yeah…” Marinette breathed. “Speaking of drama…I spoke to Luka at lunch.”

“Oh? How’d that go?”

“Not good. Not good at all. He feels…like I wasted his time. He was upset.”

“Oh…”

“He thought that I was trying to get over you so that he and I could date, but that’s not exactly what happened. He thought his persistent pursuing me meant he was first in line to date me.”

Adrien winced. That’s kind of how Chat Noir had acted too. Boy, she would be pissed when she found out who he was. Maybe he shouldn’t tell her after all…

“So yeah, that’s how we left things. I’ve been kicked off the Kitty Section team indefinitely…”

“Oh Marinette…” Adrien cooed, resting a hand on her waist.

“Nope. Don’t talk to me like that, or I will cry.” She blinked rapidly. “I knew whatever I said would break his heart. But…I think if he had been gracious about it, I would have taken it harder. For him to react the way he did makes me feel like I dodged a bullet.”

“I know exactly how you feel. Trust me.” He tugged her close and gave her a little side squeeze.

The rest of the trip to the bakery was taken in silence as both teens were lost in their own thoughts. Both mulling over ‘what if’s of the future, and what was going to happen next.

Especially a very long conversation that had to happen.

At the bakery, Sabine greeted both of them with kisses to the cheeks. “Hello you two! How was school? Survive okay?”

“Survive is an apt word.” Marinette chuckled weakly. “Lila’s not going out without a fight.”

“Well, my offer still stands, if you need me to request a parent teacher conference, I will!”

“Thank you Mrs. Cheng,” Adrien stated, “but…my father threatened a lawsuit. If that doesn’t get her mother’s attention, I don’t know what will.”

“Oh my! She’s that bad? I just assumed it was rumors and gossip. A Lawsuit is quite serious!”

“Well, my father fired her yesterday after she left here. In order to save face, she accused me of sexual harassment.”

Sabine tutted. “That girl is a real piece of work. I’m sorry you’re both having to deal with this! Whatever you need, just ask!”

Adrien gave a weak smile. “Could I have an almond danish?”

Sabine laughed. “Oh sweetie, you didn’t need to ask.” She took one out of the case and handed it to him. “Now, I have to get back to work, but we can finish this conversation later. Adrien, Tom and I wake up very early, so we think it’s best if you stayed in Marinette’s room so we didn’t wake you up. You can behave yourselves, right?”

“Yes ma’am!” Adrien agreed a little too enthusiastically.

“Good, then scoot!” She shooed them out of the bakery.

“Are you okay with that, Marinette?” He asked. “Or are you afraid I’d sexually harass you in your sleep?”

“You touch me anyway I don’t approve, and you’ll be hanging from your ankles from the top of the Eiffel Tower.”

He snorted. “Noted!”

Adrien followed her silently upstairs into the apartment. Now that they were alone, he knew he had to tell her. He needed to say everything, so they could move forward and make a plan. As he took the steps up to her room, his hands began to sweat around the strap of his bag. Just do it. Just say it.

“You can set your bag here,” Marinette began. “The bathroom is across the hall from the living room, but you can keep your toothbrush here at my sink if you want. I’ll get some pillows and blankets—“

“I’m Chat Noir.”

He said it when she had her back turned, so he didn’t have to see her face. She continued to face away from him, her shoulders slowly tightening with anxiety, like a coil about to snap.

“I should have told you yesterday,” he continued, desperate to make sure she heard it all before she freaked out. “But you were so panicked with everything else, I just didn’t want to add to it. I didn’t want to hide from you, My Lady.”

She flinched, ducking her head slightly.

“I went home yesterday. My father greeted me at the door, and we talked about trust. He said he approved of you and I seeing each other, and he said he would remove Lila from my photoshoots. You know this. And then…he said he had something he wanted to trust me with.” He licked his lips, finding them unbearably dry. “He pressed some buttons on the painting of my mother, and this elevator lowered through the floor. At the bottom, there was this huge cavern I had never been in before. There was a bridge, and then a garden on the other side, and in a…it looked like a coffin, but I think it was a life support machine…my mother was there. She’s in a magical coma, from using the broken Peacock Miraculous. Dad revealed himself to be Hawkmoth, and he explained he wanted our Miraculous so he could use the ultimate power to wake her up.” He inhaled, his breath stuttering with faintly concealed sobs. “Then he asked me to help him. He had been using Lila as an akuma trigger, but since she was fired, he wanted me to take her place.”

“And what did you say?” Marinette’s voice was hollow and dull.

“I didn’t say anything. I was just in shock. He was crying and…I wanted to save my mother too. I know his method is wrong, and I can’t help but think the ultimate wish isn’t going to do what we want…”

“So Plagg stole the Miraculous while he was sleeping?”

“Yes. I thought about getting you, but I had to work quickly. I didn’t want to fight him. And after I gave them to you last night, I returned home, and he was waiting for me.”

“So he knows?”

“No. I had an alibi, but…he still drugged me and tore my room apart looking for them. I woke up at some point, disoriented and confused, and I attempted to fight him, that’s how I got my black eye.”

Finally, finally, Marinette turned around, showing the tear streaks running down her face. “I was so worried about you.” She whispered.

“Oh bugaboo…” He rushed to her, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her into a strong and solid hug. “I’m sorry. I just couldn’t risk getting caught. That’s why I left.”

“I understand, you did the right thing.” Her fingers dove into his hair, scratching at his scalp in a calming way. “I’m so proud of you, kitty.”

“Thank you, my lady.” He squeezed her. “And I am most certainly not disappointed in you for what happened. I know it was an accident, and I’m here to help you. I was worried about you, because I love you. I love you so so much, Marinette.”

She croaked out a sob and nuzzled her face into his shoulder. “I’m so glad it’s you. I’m sorry I kept breaking your heart, but I’m so glad it’s you! It was always you, the boy I loved. The boy I kept turning you down for…I’ve always loved you.”

“And now you know how I feel isn’t a celebrity thing,” he chuckled.

“I didn’t doubt you for a second.” She clutched his shirt. “You said you loved me even more since you found out who I was. I trust you, Adrien. With my life.”

He pulled away enough to look down at her. “This was the final loose end I had to tie up. Telling you who I am.” He reached a hand up, tracing the shell of her ear with his thumb, and letting it trail down to her jaw. “Marinette, would you marry me?”

She snorted, “what?”

“Sorry, I skipped a step. Would you like to be my girlfriend?”

“Wait, I didn’t get to say yes to your proposal!”

He laughed, gathering her tightly and spinning her around. “I love you, Marinette Dupain-Cheng! One day, I’ll make you mine!”

“I’ll hold you to that,” she giggled, elated and bursting at the seams with love. “You’ll have to get it approved by my parents first.”

“Your parents!” He gasped. “We should tell them! They might not be okay with me sleeping in here if they know! And I don’t want to get on my in-laws' bad side!”

“Adrien.” Marinette snickered. “It’s okay. We’ll tell them at dinner. And…” She glanced down. “I was thinking about telling them my identity.”

“Oh?” There was no judgement or caution in his tone, just plum curiosity.

“It was Tikki’s idea. Now that Hawkmoth isn’t a threat, maybe revealing myself would clear the air, you know, because of unexplained absences?”

“In that case, can I tell them too?”

“Uh, sure…why?”

He rubbed his arm. “I want adults that I can come to if I need help. My father isn’t that for me. One day, I’ll probably tell him the truth, but…Not now. I’m too scared.”

“Alright Kitty, we’ll tell them tonight at dinner. After all, we have to get their permission to go to Tibet this weekend.”

He raised an eyebrow. “That soon?”

“Sure! We have to talk to the guardians about how to save your mom after all.”

His face melted from giddy to astonished, as he beheld her. “You…you want to save my mom?”

“Of course Kitty! You love her, don’t you? If she can be saved, we should at least try.”

He opened and closed his mouth, fighting for words of gratitude. ‘Thank you’ wasn’t strong enough. It didn’t mean enough. ‘I love you’ was starting to sound repetitive. Emotion seeped out of him, drenching his cheeks with tears of joy of being in love and being so loved in return. It was overwhelming, but so welcomed. He couldn’t hold it back anymore.

He kissed her roughly, thoroughly, solidly. Hands wrapped around her, grabbing, tugging, caressing, bringing her closer and closer, until he could be all consumed with her, her scent, her taste. Her everything.

He took her bottom lip between his, sucking and teasing with his teeth, while he coyly tugged on her belt loop.

Then suddenly, they were tumbling, as her leg hit the edge of the settee and she lost balance. She landed with a little ‘oof’ right on the cushion, as he braced himself above her.

Her impossibly blue eyes stared up into his, before she burst into giggles. “Whoops.”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Kitty.”

“Good. Are you comfortable?”

“Yes? Why?”

“Because I’m not done with you yet,” and he returned to capture her lips again with an open mouthed kiss. He indulged for a moment, just before pulling away. “If that’s okay, My Lady?”

“Its alright, my Prince.”

His cheeks colored a little at the pet name. “I like that one.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah...” He finally closed the distance, his touch much more gentle, tender, and just savoring the moment.

“I love you.” He whispered between caresses. “I love you.”

“I love—“ she giggled as he cut her off over and over. “I love you! I love you!”

“Marinette! Adrien! Dinner’s ready!”

They pulled apart to look at each other before they started laughing all over again. “Did we just—?”

“Kiss for two hours?” Asked Plagg, with the dullest voice. “Yes. Yes you did.”

Tikki elbowed him. “Leave them alone Plagg. They’re in love!”

“Yeah,” said Adrien, sappily. “We’re in love...”

“Go to dinner!!”

#miraculous ladybug #ml #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #adrienette #ladybug #chat noir #fanfiction #integrity

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daily-dose-of-imagines · 3 years ago

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(っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ Matchup ♥

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Naruto, One Piece, and Free Match-Up Request

May I request another match-up but for Free, One Piece, and Naruto this time? :) Here’s all my info once more!

Name: Corethra (or Corey for short)

Age: 25

Gender: Female

Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual

Occupation: Hand Packer at an ice cream factory. I work 12 hours (5:30pm to 6am) on a rotating schedule.

Birthplace: Memphis, TN, USA. I was raised in the neighborhood called Frayser which is the most impoverished area in Memphis and has a high crime rate as expected.

Zodiac Sign: Pisces (born March 2) My full birth chart can be found here

Enneagram: 5w6

Chinese Zodiac: Year Of The Pig

MBTI Type: INFJ

Alignment: Lawful Neutral

Hogwarts House: Slytherin

Love Language: Acts Of Service

Race/Ethnicity: African-American

Height: 4'11 (Call me short and I’ll kick your butt!)

Body Type/Shape: Average but well developed figure at best. I weigh about 158 lbs and am pretty insecure about my body. I also have really bad scars on my left arm from being bitten by a dog.

Hair Color/Style: Black and naturally curly but I keep it flat-ironed so it’s straight. It’s long and goes down to just below my shoulder blades. There are times when I will have braids put in of various lengths.

Glasses or No?: Yes I wear glasses

Eye Color: Brown

Dress Style: I usually dress up in a casual way, just throwing on whatever looks good at the time but I will sometimes put in the effort when the time calls for it or when I’m in a good mood. I have an affinity for the punk, emo, and goth styles and I rarely wear feminine clothes but I will wear something risky every once in a while.

Hobbies/Interests: Video games, reading, writing, anime, internet surfing, listening to music, politics (sometimes), watching movies/TV shows, basically being an overall nerd. I’m usually either on my laptop or one of my many video game consoles if I’m not on my phone or reading one of my books.

Dislikes: Ignorance, stupidity, restriction, manipulation/gas-lighting, bullying, humanity, not being understood, corruption/injustice, close-mindedness

Personality: At first glance, I seem quiet and keep to myself, only speaking when I need to or when I’m spoken to. I’m an anti-social introvert to the fullest and don’t care much for small talk or going out. I prefer to have deeper conversations. When I get comfortable enough in whatever environment I’m in, I start to open up bit by bit. I’m a tomboy and pretty rough-minded as well as stubborn. I’m very sassy, have a smart, sarcastic, and witty mouth if not humorous and outrageous at times, can be borderline rude and mean, and I’m more sensitive than I care to be. I can literally cry at someone’s suffering especially if it’s someone I’m close to or even a total stranger. I’m very empathetic and my heart is bigger than what most people would expect. Most people describe me as quiet, intelligent, creative, dorky, a smartass, and really sweet. I love a good laugh and have an open sense of humor to boot.

Many of my friends say that I’m very sweet and kind which I usually am if I’m in a good mood as well as affectionate as hell. Hugs and pet names galore with me! However only my friends and family see that side of me. My language is often unfiltered, harsh, foul, and blunt which shocks people because they think I’m a pure angel. I say what I want when I want and no one tells me otherwise. If they do, they can expect a mouthful from me. I’m an escapist and very imaginative, can be a bit scatterbrained at times, and I’m methodical and detailed to the point of perfectionism. I’m usually a walking contradiction in terms of personality in so many ways to the point where the real me is almost impossible to decipher. To make matters more complicated, I’m not very good at expressing myself verbally and prefer to let my actions do the talking. I also express myself better through written form.

I have many pet peeves and I get annoyed easily in general. I’m also slowly embracing misanthropy and nihilism but I can be pretty idealistic so it balances out. I’m practically zero tolerance when it comes to bullshit. I hate confrontation and conflict but I’m starting to work on it so I can be less passive-aggressive and more assertive. I also wish to stand up for myself more often than I should so people won’t think that I’m weak and an easy target. I’m pretty cynical which is to be expected and usually expect the worst from people. When someone angers me, I will either just withdraw altogether and completely cut them off (slam the door basically) or get in their face and go off before doing the former. I’m the “hold my anger in and release it all at once” type but I hope to change that one day and stop letting things fester before they get out of hand. I can be quite petty and even cold as well and if someone wrongs me, they will have to make the first move to mend fences. I refuse to apologize if I’m not in the wrong and I will not accept gaslighting/guilt tripping. I also refuse to change for others and will admit to having quite a lot of pride but that’s mostly due to me not wanting to be hurt and manipulated, mistreated, or used.

I have issues with trust and a wild imagination to boot. I usually trust my instincts and can see right through bullshit. I don’t like taking risks and I have to know all the details when I do something so I don’t mess up and look like an idiot. I am indeed a perfectionist and introverted to a fault which often prevents me from trying new things and going outside my comfort zone. I haven’t been in a relationship yet and am still a virgin due to my issues with trust and not wanting to be hurt or humiliated as well as being quite picky/perfectionistic with the people I allow in my life. I have high standards for both people and myself although I’m pretty laid-back and my dislike of conflict allows me to also take a lot of shit from people too before I eventually say “fuck it” and slam the door or go off on them. I don’t think very highly of myself and can sometimes fall into a period of self-hatred and self-pity.

Many people praise me for my intelligence which is fitting since I’m an intellectual. My ideals and beliefs are rather odd to say the least (I’m a classical liberal/independent and despise most ideologies/ideas. This includes religion, feminism, social justice, traditionalism, statism, big government, nationalism, socialism/communism, etc.) and I feel misunderstood because of it (mostly because of the black community ostracizing me). I am indeed a rebel, open-minded, and a free thinker. No one tells me how to think or feel or else they face my wrath. I highly value power over myself and I think it’s the most important thing that a person needs in order to survive. I am definitely an outcast at heart and I often distance myself from others and don’t like talking about my feelings or beliefs because I think most people lack the ability/capacity to understand me. Before I give my opinion on something, I like to do as much research as possible as well as look at things from all perspectives before coming to my own conclusion. I don’t mind discussing things but I prefer logic over emotion when doing so which makes it damn near impossible these days for me to have an real conversation without insults and threats being thrown (usually towards me). Chances are I’m gonna find something wrong with damn near anything someone believes in or says and I’m not afraid to call it out when I see it. Once I do open up and express how I feel, the gates of passion will open up and never close. I also have high morals and values and stick to my guns no matter what which can make me pretty stubborn at times.

I’m currently battling depression and often experience many symptoms of it including suicidal thoughts and depression spells. I also suffer from iron-deficiency anemia as well as irregular, prolonged periods. These things are pretty annoying for me to deal with whenever they flare up.

Overall, I’m pretty crazy and a handful to deal with. Good luck matching me up with someone :P

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Hello @sacredwarrior88 and thank you so much for requesting with us! I am so sorry that this came out so late, but I do hope you enjoy this!

>Admin 𝕋

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

𝐼 𝓈𝒽𝒾𝓅 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽…

Ace! I feel that you and ace would be such a great couple! He is open minded and kind to others whereas you are the same way! You are passionate like he is, caring like he is, loyal to the bone like he is! He would see you and see your personality and just instantly fall in love you and your personality! Like, I can’t even imagine how much he will want you on his crew, so they he can keep on you and protect you at all times-- though he will soon figure out that you don’t need help, you can take care yourself--which he will find extremely attractive, no doubt about that!

He will love that fact that you are independent, because he really values individualism and independency, he sees it as a great traits to have. But he will also love the fact that you are sensitive, and can sometimes get into your own head. He understands that, knows it all too well, so he will try with all his might to try and make sure that you are happy and always smiling! But he will love how fierce you can be to other people, never bowing down to their expectations!

All in all, I feel like Ace would be a great man for you in the one piece universe! He would be attentive to you, would love your attitude and personality, and would absolutely adore how loyal and strong you are! make sure to love him thoroughly!

Ah, Sai! He is much like Ace, just a little less emotional, which is fine! I feel like you and Sai would make a couple for a couple reasons! He would love how mature you are, and how logical you can be, and-- like ace-- he loves the fact that you are extremely loyal to your friends! That is a true factor in the way he will see you, and it is for the better! He will se how strong you are, emotionally and will be envious and at the same time fascinated! I Feel like Sai will look at you with wide eyes, his breath caught in his throat, his heart beating wildly in his ribcage because he will love you that much! All the things you are interested he will want to hear with enthusiasm, everything you love he will want to learn and hear from you, to get to know you better!

Another thing is that if you were to go to him with your insecurities and how you are battling depression, he will try to understand, and once he does he will try to everything and anything to make sure you feel better! You need a massage? He’s on it! You need cuddles? oh yeah he will give you some! You need chocolate or sweets or anything of the like? He’ll run to the store, and be back 5 minutes tops!

All in all, I feel like the cool, mature Sai, with a heart of pure gold will be such a good match for you! He will make sure that you uncomfortable with him, he will never want to make you unhappy, and he will definitely do anything i his power to make sure that you will keep on loving him as much as you can!

Rei! Now, with Rei, I wanted to go a more cute route. I feel that Rei would be equal parts and scared and in love with you! He sees how strong you are against people that oppose, he sees how strong you are for your friends, and how you have such a different personality to everybody else around him, and he will immediately fall in with you. Like instantly! To him, you’d be like a beautiful butterfly blooming right in front of him, and he will want to have you all tot himself! Of course, he won’t force you, but he will definitely watch you at a distance longingly!

He is very much an introvert and your calm but strong aura would definitely help with his anxiety! I just see him melting next you, into your lap or shoulder whenever you are around him because he is so comfortable around you. He doesn’t do this with just anybody so it would be a real honor! And when it it comes to your insecurities, he would want to make sure that you know he loves you the way are, and if you were to want to change something about yourself, then he will support you all the way, as long as you are happy! He will just love that you are such a freethinker and so openminded about things, so unlike him!

All in all, I feel like Rei would love you and (somewhat) idolize because you have all these traits that he would love to have. This perfectionist will understand how it feels to be such a perfectionist and will want to help you with that too! He will love to the moon and back(stroke)!

#match-ups #matchup #submissions #anime matchup #submission #naruto matchup #free! matchup #one piece matchup #naruto x you #free x you #one piece x you

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nerd-takes-pony-town · 4 years ago

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So... Dergun Town's gone, at last - Temp. Tester Rant.

To be frankly honest, I was waiting for it to end. I stopped playing after the weird ass Pet update and sudden, unnannounced Hair Change due to “legal reasons” because the game was just getting utterly confusing, a mess of minigames with clunky customization options and systems, and whatnot. Plus, my time as a tester was when I hit the breaks on the game and realized "man... they really are dicks".

I never ranted about it because I knew if I did, they'd definitely come for me and ban me from the game or from the server because "I shittalked about the game" or “I’m unveiling the tester server”, but now that it's over - it's time for a rant.

So, think it was around May 2020 that I decided to go for Tester to better prepare myself for the future updates, the chat itself was basically... like the lobby, just mainly memes and the Dev fanatics, who will defend them 24/7, chatting with the Devs.

One of the first few things that was asked for is the Timezones so that we could test the server together - the Timezones thing is literally thrown out the window after the very first test. From there on, what they would do is ping the Testers to announce an update - at the time, we had no changelog, no proper bug report channel, it was all crowded in one place, and because they disregarded the Timezones, imagine if you will the chat being both filled with players spamming the chat with all the new shit like some happy toddlers, and another half are people who are reporting to be in class, asleep, dinnering, ect.

A chaotic mess that makes it near impossible to actually report something. Eventually, they added a bug report but once again, no proper check list - if any, the changelog and the checklist only appeared around the Argoras or Minigame Update (June-July). And, as always, the checklist was never updated, so you'd be testing something that's already been checked and other listed things wouldn't be checked at all. Organization, which is something a Tester needs, was never a fucking thing in that horrid mess. They would occasionally do polls, one of which was if the Update should release now, nearly everyone said No - they released it anyway. :^)

Then, there would be some bugs where they’d blame us for it - the /hitme was a command that was restrictedly used in the test server because the Devs somehow don’t know how to add a small quantity of resources to all of us, so he instead made a command that gives, what? Over a million of each of the resources? We ALL made sure that wasn’t toggled on the “beta” server, and yet, somehow, it got released with the commad functioning, and instead of admitting their fault, they blamed the Testers for practically saying folks not to use it - one of the testers was literally STRIPPED OFF of their Gil and other resources, and mind you, they didn’t even used the command at all, all they did was accidentally say the command.

The Moderators would also be rather cruel, everyone likes memes, that's granted, but it shouldn't mean you can willingly change our nicknames like that. Imagine switching over to the chat only to find out your name, along with all the other testers, has been changed to "Todd Howard"; you rename it, and a couple of days later, they change it yet again without your permission or consent. This isn't fun, this is just annoying. I had to walk around with "Stop changin my name" on my nickname because of them.

And like how it has been told, these Devs cannot take criticism at all. The Argoras Update will haunt me down as the Update where I was literally fighting against other testers and the Devs over something that needed to be changed. In the Test Server, the Skill Points had a Clover table, meaning you used clovers for Skill Points, the thing is in Pony Town, the rewards are remain unlocked even if you go down the unlocking mark - Dergun Town does not. So players who are unaware of this would've wasted 1k Clovers and then realize that their prizes have been taken away because they're no longer above the unlocking mark. So as a Tester, it should be my duty to warn the Devs about it and come with suggestions.

I told them without mentioning Pony Town at all (because they have a stupid policy of “if it’s close to PT, we can’t do it”) about how the Clover option will result in players losing their reward if they go below 1k and 500 Clovers respectively, which is the equivalent to hundreds of players putting all those days collecting Clovers to waste. They would ABSOLUTELY rant about it in Bugs or Help Desk. I suggested them to either:

Make the rewards unlocked still even if you left the mark.

Remove the Clover option

Add a warning when about to select Clover

Those are the ones on top of my head, what did they do?

Tom just kept ignoring what I said on the first suggestion and exclusively focusing on the second one, as if it was the only option available. Meanwhile, Q was guilt tripping me into bidding to their commands, "37,500 gil per skill if you the 50 points pure,," it's horrible, sure, but do you really want to deal with a hoard of players coming to the server to scream about how the Skill Point system stole their Clover rewards? And having to deal with a patch or two to make them happy, or worse, having to ban more players because they’re angry WITH REASON that their prizes were taken away because you idiots refuse to add something that allows the players to keep their rewards while below the mark?

You know they would do that, everyone knows they would do that. And worse is with exception of one or two Testers, the other users, specifically folks like J*y and D**r, just kept defending the Devs even though I was literally helping them prevent a future problem that everyone knew it would fucking happen. What's the point of testing a game if the Developers will fucking refuse to take your advices?

They did removed the Clovers from the options, but kept the Dandelions and the Bones, which, you guested it, STILL DIDN'T HAD THE PRIZE LOCKING! And the best part - NO WARNING REGARDING THE LOST OF THE PRIZES WAS ADDED EITHER! So players who had the Dandelion Rune and the ability to get the special items from the Bone would end up in losing them without them knowing - though it’s not as bad as the Clovers, a resource that restrictedly spawns in areas with Clovers as opposed to be map-wide and the last prize needs 1k of those, and the recent-ish Spring Update changed the green to a shade that blends with them.

I singlehandedly helped them avoid a hoard of angry players, and not a singular thank you was given.

The Quest Cap is also a thing, if the mobile users are in such a disadvantage with the Clovers being gone, then why are you adding the Cap anyway? Everyone knows that if a game is relying on the player to grind, it should not cap the Quests to a fucking T - only 20 Quests per hour?! And the NPC's Gil is both dependant on Bootleg Flight Rising Dominance... and dependant on a Clan that YOU CAN'T ACTUALLY CHANGE even if you request for such?! It's like if in Flight Rising, because Fiona has Light eyes, Light Flight would gain extra bonus treasure from here as if Dominance wasn't enough. "It's to balance the Economy", how is that going to balance, it just restricting the mobile users even further, as if the shitty battle controls on mobile that makes it impossible to battle wasn't enough.

The game was also just turning into a weird, funky, Flight Rising bootleg - fitting how the game that Q also worked on was a bootleg hybrid between Dragon Cave and Flight Rising - the release of pets with these genes and barely any use but to literally do the exact shit you do in FR. In FR, you exalt Dragons to gain a upper hand at Dominance, in DT, a rather recent-ish? Update allowed you to sell the Magikins (the gened pets, the other pets are literally useless) for Clan Tokens, giving you a boost to gain Dominance. It’s exactly like FR, I’m surprised no one ever bothered to contact the FR folks about this ripoff. The pets did had a use and it was to gain more gil but a nerf was done because, once again, they released an update were we made SURE that wasn’t happening, but somehow, it happened - the Pet-Gill Machine Glitch that allowed you to gain infinite Gil.

My pets got bugged because of it - the level got reset (it’d only reward 1-2 gil) but the price of the upgrade did not (750 gil) - I asked if that was a nerf or a bug, and as expected, they said it was nerf when it was clear as days it was a bug given how people had pets that requried 700+ gil and rewarded 30+ gil.

The game’s just a mess of minigames and FR Ripoff, I could go on and on with just how bad the game is, but the Devs are even worse.

It's really bad when they're once straight up muted someone for speaking their fucking opinion.

(You may need to zoom)

(From PMs)

This user would constantly bring the flaws in their shit without insulting, they'd argue with reason, give suggestions, everything, in hopes of improving the game. and they instead just argued back, if not, criticized them for even bringing an opinion and tried to justify themselves as to why they didn't need to change - and the users would absolutely defend the Devs like literal ass kissers, to the point of being happy they got muted.

As the user rightfully said in PMs:

I wanted to make contributions that could help improve it, but it seems like the staff just want people to do as they say without question instead of looking for ways to improve. And they desperately need to understand that the game is not just about what they want, what kinds of designs they think players should make. It should be encouraging players to try new designs and be creative, but all the devs want to do is shut that down.

I just wish they didn't have absolute power over the server. If they were accountable to their community in some way, it'd be possible to convince them to make changes when it's really necessary. Not all the time, just when their stubbornness is getting in the way of something that absolutely everybody except them wants.

The fun in these games has always been in the community. If you stifle that, you stifle the game. And unfortunately, I now can't say any of this. Making demon combat even harder for those without skill points was wholly unnecessary, too. I don't know what their obsession is with making the game so heavy on grinding.

Back when I first arrived, Dergun Town was mostly just Pony Town with more customization options, plus a few special prizes you could earn by gathering items. Nowadays it seems like the devs are more interested in forcing players to grind for literally everything than they are in adding new stuff everyone can enjoy and use.

But worse than that is how they always respond to criticism. The mini-events were the biggest example of that. Players didn't like being forced to spend all day on Dergun Town just for any chance to win an award in mini-events. It was damaging people's ability to have a life outside the game, and a lot of users complained. How did they respond? They basically threatened to remove the mini-events altogether and make all the items from them unobtainable, rather than improving on anything. This is how the staff responds to all complaints and suggestions. It's either the exact thing they want or nothing, and if they make a mistake big enough that everyone complains, rather than admitting fault, they basically punish the community for being unhappy. Their entire mentality is "play by my rules or I'm taking my toys and going home".

Reminder that when the garden update broke and erased a ton of players' houses and items, they blamed the players and said they had to do all the work to get everything that was lost back themselves.

I swear, all of this "you complained now you get nothing" and "we work hard, so be thankful to us even for terrible content" we hear in the user suggestions channel is just conditioning their player base to accept being taken for granted and mistreated. They're basically trying to induce Stockholm Syndrome.

Someone who’s also on Tumblr got banned for saying that the new design of the hairs made their characters look ugly - it was a change that was NEVER ANNOUNCED, specially considering it’s a change regarding “legal issues”, the playerbase should��ve been warned about this before they updated it. But instead, they got pissy that some people have complained about the drastically changed hairs and once again, shit down on them for complaining.

Dergun Town is an excellent example of how some people are not and never were meant to run a game - the guilt tripping, the “accept this or get lost” attitude, the behavior they had and occasionally have regarding Pony Town (search “Let’s Talk About Dergun Town” and you’ll get the document), to the point of banning the actual word “to avoid drama” aka keep folks from talking about their real fucking nature.

I am honestly happy that Dergun Town got shut down while Pony Town keeps improving and growing, karma was indeed well served.

#dergun town #pony town #pony.town #ive been keeping this for so long and i needed to let it out #dergun was bad but yall havent seen the how bad it is #or how bad it can get

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iplaymatchmaker · 4 years ago

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@nishtharya Thank you so much for requesting🥰🥰! I’m sorry for taking so long! I feel like I have to also apologize after all that angst in the prompt. I didn’t really mean to make it this sad but I couldn’t help myself 😅, especially considering I have written a beauty and the beast au fic in the past that was also very angsty. All the feels came rushing back. I hope you still enjoy it!❤❤

I match you with:

Arthur!

I had a few other guys in mind but I think Arthur would be the only one who could really give back so much while keeping things interesting.

The man has met women who graciously return his advances, but no one managed to play him like you. The look of surprise on his face when you beat him to his own games is extremely entertaining. It quickly becomes a competition of smoothness between the two of you.

After you grow more comfortable around him, both of you realize you have more in common than you think. Your conversations on the dinner table are quite the sight, since you both won’t stop talking until the subject has been completely drained.

When the two of you get into a relationship, it’s very hard for you to keep your hands off each other. He always finds himself reaching for you, whether that’s when he’s writing or when you’re out in town. Your presence around him becomes so natural he finds it hard to focus without you around for long stretches of time. He definitely tells you that a lot, especially when you’re apart for too long.

When he finds out you write and sing your own music he absolutely loves hearing your work. It provides a lot of inspiration for him and he feels very productive when listening to you, even if you’re simply talking. He often asks about your opinions on his latest Sherlock stories, especially after he reads some of your writing.

When you sleep together for the first time he notice how hard it was for you to fall asleep, so he takes it upon himself to help distract you. He’s found quite a few things that often work , although his favorite is definitely cuddling, and other things, but this a family friendly show.

Prompt 5: Fairytale AU:

“Arthur, open the door!” no matter how many times you yelled and knocked on the door of the large mansion, no answer came.

“I’m not leaving until you talk to me.” You sat yourself on the steps, trying to appear calmer than you were. It was hard not to picture Arthur, alone and afraid, waiting for the inevitable.

“Where did we go wrong?” memories flashed through your mind as you traced your steps, trying to find any signs that this is where it would all lead.

You had been with Arthur for years and had known him for even longer. You tried to deny it, pointing at your own tendency to over analyze, but his deteriorating health became more and more apparent by the day. He tried his best to brush it off, usually teasing you about how much you worried about him, until one day he collapsed and remained unconscious for the next two days. No doctor could explain the cause of this. He had been perfectly healthy. No problematic past, no underlying health problems. But now he was dying and there was nothing anyone could do.

You looked back on happier days. You vividly remembered all the nights the two of you had spent sitting next to each other, working on your stories, often turning to the other for inspiration or a simple word of encouragement when your insecurities got the better of you. He always had a way with words, a way to make you feel special.

The images provided some comfort and you slowly drifted off, still waiting for your love to open up to you, like he did before.

When your eyes opened you were in a room you didn’t recognize. You were covered in a mountain of blankets and a hot piece of cloth lay on your forehead. When you sat up, you noticed Arthur, writing a few feet away.

“Arthur?” when he noticed you had woken up, he shot up, before tripping, landing back on the chair.

“Watch it.” You moved to get yourself out of bed but he stopped you, slowly lifting himself up, a pained expression on his face. Your heart ached for him as you watched him struggle trying to walk toward you. When he sat down next to you, some of the discomfort seemed to disappear. When he reached for your hand, a shiver run through you after the sudden contact with his ice cold skin.

“My love, you shouldn’t have come here. And you definitely shouldn’t have fallen asleep outside on the brick of winter.” You could see the concern painted on his face as he looked at you. The moment brought you back to the times before all this.

“At least I got you to open the door.” You smiled, sitting up to reach toward him. He pulled away before you could get too close.

“You should’ve left like I told you… There’s nothing for you here anymore.” You glanced at the rose, sitting on the small table by the windowsill. Very few petals were left.

“There’s you.” This time he didn’t move when you reached for him, cupping his cheek.

“I won’t be here much longer.” You didn’t want to think about what life would be like without him by your side.

“There has to be a way to stop it! We still have some time, maybe we can undo this!” he placed a kiss on your forehead, a kiss that felt too much like a goodbye kiss.

“It’s over, love. My time’s up. It’s time I join Rick again. I wonder if he’ll forgive me for not saving him.” You remembered Rick. He was a small boy, barely ten years old when his brother came to Arthur, asking him to treat Rick, who was suffering from a raging fever. He had been the first patient Arthur hadn’t managed to save, one of the many lives he still carried with him, the guilt eventually becoming too much.

“It wasn’t your fault. You can’t save everyone, you shouldn’t expect that of yourself.” you had worried about the weight being a doctor would put on him, but you had never expected it would be the thing that ended him.

“If I can’t save my patients… what kind of doctor am I?” no matter how hard you tried your words weren’t getting through to him and his time was running out.

“Love, please! Your guilt is what birthed this curse. It’s killing you! It’s in your hands to break it!” he had been cursed by his own mind for so long, growing weaker and weaker, until it manifested in the form of a rose, counting down his days. Tears slid rapidly down your eyes. He wiped them away, trying to take your pain along with them.

“I’ve always considered myself intuitive, but the mystery of my mind is one I’ll never be able to solve. But If I may, I want to ask a favor of you.”

“Anything.” You squeezed his hands, bringing him closer.

“It’s selfish of me. I’m the one who told you not to come here and yet here I am wishing you would stay by my side, until the end.” You nodded, tears blurring your eyes.

“I will, always.”

The next few hours felt like an eternity and like no time at all at the same time. There was so much you wanted to say but as you at next to him in front of the fire nothing came out. You could only watch as his life slowly faded away.

“Will you sing for me?” his eyes turned to you, a faint glint to them. You could tell he was struggling to focus, fighting to stay conscious, to spend his last moments with you.

Your voice filled the room, singing one of the songs you had written especially for him a few years ago. You tried to keep your voice steady, despite the situation.

As the minutes passed and the last petal begun to make its descend, his strength completely abandoned him.

“Ugh..” he collapsed, falling limp on the floor.

“Arthur!” you run to his side, holding him in your arms trying to keep him from slipping away.

“Please, sing…” his words were barely more than a whisper, a sign of his end fast approaching. In spite of it all, he was smiling.

You tried your best to keep your voice from melting into weeping. You wanted to see him off the way he wanted to.

When the last petal touched the ground, he stilled. And so you allowed yourself to cry, unable to stop, to move away, to leave him.

Suddenly, a bright light surrounded you, lighting up the room, bringing warmth back to the empty space. When the light faded, Arthur’s eyes opened.

“Arthur!” you pulled him closer, so close, making sure you weren’t dreaming. He was alive, breathing and warm as ever.

“You’re alive! But how?” he laughed pulling you closer.

“Not happy to see me again?” it was such a relief to see him smiling again.

“Shut up.” You pressed you lips on his, feeling him next to you, just like before.

“I thought I was going to die. My life flashed before my eyes, but when I felt myself slip away, I heard your voice…” tears begun to form in your eyes again, the amount of information making it hard to focus.

“I… I followed your voice… I followed you and It felt like home.” Tears streamed down his face, his body still shaking from the adrenaline. “I guess I’m too much of a coward to die. Not even a self inflicted curse could keep me away from you.” You laughed, unable to contain your happiness. He followed suit, your happiness filling the once gloomy room, bringing you closer than ever before.

“It seems that I’m not going anywhere any time soon.

“You better not! I am still waiting to see the end of your latest story!”

“I would never leave my love hanging like that.” Everything in that moment felt right, preparing you for many more happy memories in your future, with him by your side.

#IkeVamp #ikevamp arthur #ikevamp angst #ikevamp matchups

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alixanonymous · 4 years ago

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How A Demon Commissions An Angel ~ A Daminette FanFic ~ Chapter 5: An Exchange Of Information

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Date: November 5, 2021 5:30 P.M.

Subject: RE: The Plan

Dear Marinette,

(Am I assuming too much by addressing you by your first name if you’ve already addressed me by mine? If so, that would be a little hypocritical, wouldn’t you agree?)

Just as a general rule, I probably won’t get any references you make to any kind of children’s show (I had to look up Arthur after your first email). Like I mentioned before, I lived with my mother for the first part of my life and the idea of her ever even considering letting me watch cartoons is laughable. I did look up what you were talking about however and it seems like you were describing when shows try to portray a person’s conscience by putting an angel and a devil on either of their shoulders. In that case, I would agree with your assessment: between the two of us, I would definitely not be the angel in this case.

I’m grateful for that fact too as it seems that your kindness has only helped you to be so easily taken advantage of by those closest to you. You asked me for my thoughts on your situation so I trust that you won’t hold anything I say against me (again) on account that the whole point of this is that my opinion will obviously contrast with yours.

Here’s how I see it: Your friend (although I hope you will choose not to call him that any longer) is simply not in a position to offer you friendship and so in any case he cannot be angry at you for not accepting whatever he can give. What are you, a dog? What can he expect, that you will come when he can call but accept being ignored the other half of the time? Surely you have more self respect than that if your first email to me meant anything.

As for feeling guilty, he chose to put his needs above yours, if he blames you for doing the same, then he is a hypocrite. He made his choice and he will have to face the consequences for it; in no way is any of that your fault.

After reading your last email, I must admit that it’s relief to see that you at least have some idea of how this will work because saying that all this is new to me would be a gross understatement. As for the aforementioned incident that started this whole ordeal, let’s just say my family’s lecturing on the subject more than sufficed. If I come across any situations that I could use another opinion on, I will let you know. I confess that writing to you is far more preferable than being chided by any of my idiot brothers.

On the subject of idiot brothers, for the commission, the sweaters would be for Grayson and Drake and the jacket for Todd. I trust your judgement when it comes to the designs and will be ready to give my disapproval should anything on the sketches seem off-putting. I look forward to seeing what you come up with. As for the NDA, I’m afraid you’re right in that I cannot oblige. I trust you understand.

Sincerely,

Damian W.

Postscript: Considering what happened the first time I ended an email

to you with two initials, can you really blame me for not taking any chances, especially when you take into account my “snobbish” self, your word not mine, and the fact that my self-esteem is still suffering from your first email. I mean if you really want something to feel guilty about…

From:[email protected]

To:[email protected]

Date:November 6, 2021 1:30 A.M.

Subject: That’s Not How This Works

Dear Damian,

I’m afraid that simply saying you “trust my judgement when it comes to the designs” is not going to do it. If I tried to design anything based on the information you gave me, all I would have to go on is that you want two sweaters and a jacket. Do you have any idea how many types of sweaters and jackets there are?

On top of that, didn’t your father say these gifts have to be sentimental? If you really want the pieces to be meaningful I’m going to need a lot more information on your brothers. Tell me about them. What kind of relationships do you have with them? How would you describe each of their aesthetics? Imagine what you think would be their ideal sweater or jacket and then describe it to me, the more details, the better okay?

As for what you said about my uh maybe-maybe not a friend, I won’t deny your thoughts were somewhat valid if not a little harsh. I just need some time to think it over. I guess, beyond the guilt, I’m having a little trouble moving on. I mean besides the fact that he’s practically my only friend left in the class, he was also the first boy I ever really liked. Once upon a time, I thought I was in love with him even… It all seems so silly now. I’m just struggling with the fact that so many people in my life aren’t who I thought they were. Anyway, I don’t need your opinion on any of that last stuff, okay? I think the rest is up to me and like I said, I need some time to figure this out.

Thanks for listening, Damian. You do have a way of putting things into perspective. Now please, give me a better understanding of what I need to make your brothers so we can get this show on the road. Love,

Marinette (Which you can call me!)

P.S. I like how you lectured me on how being kind allows people to take advantage of me and then proceeded to try and guilt trip me into ignoring your past misdeeds. Fyi, Mr.Postscript née Blackmailer? It didn’t work!

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Date: November 6, 2021 5:30 P.M.

Subject: What The Hell Is An Aesthetic?

Dear Marinette,

I understand that I’m not a fashion designer myself but I really can’t see how much answering your questions would help with the design. How will knowing about my relationships with them help you make their clothes? If I tell you I don’t like one in particular, are you going to make theirs out of a scratchy material or something? Are you sure that question wasn’t posed out of curiosity because you gave me more insight on your personal life but I didn’t offer anything on mine? I assure you it’s nothing personal, I simply like my privacy.

As I’m sure you can guess from the subject line, I had a little trouble researching what aesthetics are because nothing seems to make sense. It’s as if a lot of people collectively decided to use a word wrong. I don’t know what you want me to say.

In hindsight, I can admit I didn’t really give you much to go on but in all honesty I think my brothers will probably freak out simply over the fact that they’ll get to have MDC originals. If I were to guess what they’d like, I’d say Drake could really do with something comfortable, Todd’s wardrobe consists mainly of biker jackets and I truly couldn’t see him wearing anything else, and Grayson? He’s the easiest to please but if we’re going for sentimental value I think a Christmas sweater would do, the tackier the better.

Is that enough to work on? Sincerely,

Damian

Postscript: Have you yet to realize that while you let your “friends” walk all over you, you seem to not let me get away with anything? Is it also too much to assume from your email that you’ve since discovered you can do better than your good-for-nothing friend?

From:[email protected]

To:[email protected]

Date:November 7, 2021 12:01 A.M.

Subject: (Sigh)

Dear Damian,

No, that was not nearly enough to work on. All I have to go on at the moment is that Drake wants a comfy sweater, Todd’s fashion sense is limited to leather jackets, and Grayson wants a “tacky” Christmas sweater. I don’t even know where to start with that.

Now because it’s taking us so long just to sort out the basic details, I was going to suggest we exchange phone numbers to make things go a little faster but as it seems that you think I have nothing better to do than wonder about your personal life (I do by the way), I’m worried you’d accuse me of being a stalker. So, let me try to be a little more clear.

Sentimental value comes from using what you know about a person to give them something that would mean more to them personally than say a random stranger on the street. I can’t help you much with the design because I don’t have a relationship with your brothers. I don’t know them and I have no clue what they like or want. Still with me?

The reason I asked about relationships to them is because the more personal you make the gifts, the more thoughtful they’ll be considered and, here’s what your stake in this is, the more likely you are to not be sent away. I was looking for details like inside jokes, common interests between your siblings, maybe things you bonded over in the beginning. A lot of my inspiration and artistry comes from little small details expressed in the design through methods like stitching or embroidery.

I can now see that it might be hard for some people to know what might provoke inspiration. So I’ll start with some small specifics: What colors are their favorites? Hoods or no hoods? Zipper or buttons? Pockets? Like I mentioned before, it would be a really big help if we could set up a time and just hash this out through text messages. It’s important that we’re on the same page here. If you don’t like the first few rounds of designs, well then we’d really be cutting it close for time. I’d normally be doing this kind of a commission in person or at least over the phone or skype.

That being said, if it’s truly something you’re not comfortable with, we can totally find a way to make this work. Okay, Damian? Love,

Marinette

P.S. I’m beginning to see that there’s a difference between writing to you and dealing with my classmates. I don’t know if it’s because we’re not face to face or the fact that you’re still practically a stranger. Something about our emails makes me feel, I don’t know, self assured again, maybe your arrogant manner just trumps any restraint I’d otherwise have. And as for if I’ve learned I can do better (Now who’s more invested in the other’s social life?), you might be interested to know I’ve stopped replying to my no-longer-a-friend’s texts.

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Date: November 7, 2021 6:30 A.M.

Subject: Let’s Get This Over With

Dear Marinette,

I see I may have overlooked a little when it comes to the designing process. I didn’t mean to insult you by saying your questions weren’t valid. In my defense, I may have been a bit frustrated after failing to learn what an aesthetic is (you still haven’t explained that by the way). I also think I’m beginning to understand what you mean about sentimental value and of course I want to maximize my chances of staying.

So, here’s my phone number: X-XXX-XXX-XXXX. I will make myself available today from 2:00-5:00 p.m. Gotham Standard Time which is 8:00-11:00 p.m. Paris time I believe. Does that work for you?

As for your smaller questions: Grayson’s favorite color is dark/ navy blue, Drake and Todd both like red and black. On the subject of hoods, possibly one for Drake’s sweater, perhaps the kind that has those ties that can be pulled to close it, and for Todd’s jacket, definitely. If a zipper or button is needed then zippers would be preferable. As for pockets, perhaps we could go over them later. I suppose it would depend on the design.

I trust this email was a little more helpful than the last few and look forward to your further contact, if the timing’s to your liking. Sincerely,

Damian

Postscript: I can’t say I entirely understand what you mean but our emails are definitely new territory for me as well. I couldn’t imagine talking to my classmates the way I write to you. While I am satisfied to see you made the right choice (with my suggestion mind you) about what to do about your no-longer-worth-a-thought peer, I find it quite misrepresentative for you to say I’m invested in your social life when this whole deal of ours was your idea in the first place.

Needed to go over this while writing chapter nine and figured while I had the document up I might as well repost it here. To any of my AO3 readers, guess what? Chapter nine is practically finished! I still have a few more details to work out but it should be up either today or tomorrow! I’m both nervous and excited to finally have it posted! Anyway, see you soon!

Master List

#MariBat #Daminette #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Damian Wayne #FanFic

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everlarkficexchange · 5 years ago

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Operation: BREAD (Bring Revenge on Everdeen to Avenge Dad)

Written by: @alliswell21

Prompt 23: Rumor: MrEverdeen crossed fence dividing Town and Seam, kidnapped Mrs Everdeen making her his common law wife. Years later, Mellark sons plan to avenge their father by raiding Seam and kidnapping one of Everdeen’s daughters for one of them to take as a wife! Does Katniss “volunteer,” does she escape, how do the 3 brothers decide what to do with her since they didn’t plan it all out well? [submitted by @567inpanem]

Rated: T for now, for language.

Author’s Note: So, I resigned myself that this prompt won’t be completed by the new dateline of May 10th, because believe it not, quarantining with the husband and children at home makes for a very busy day… everyday. I haven’t been able to write anything for days at a time, and everytime I come back, I reread what I’ve written so far, and find faults that need fixing and what I hoped to be a short story is turning into a long one shot because I’m incapable of keep things simple… and now I’m ranting about everything instead of thanking everyone— from the EFE administrators, to @567inpanem for the prompt, and y’all dear readers— and wishing all moms a happy Mother’s Day, even if you celebrate it on a different date in your country… and I a belated happy birthday to Katniss Everdeen and Also a happy Mother’s Day to her, because she deserves it… anywho…

Here’s is the very first part of this story, that can’t make up its mind on what it wants to be (it’s leaning into romcom territory right now), I’ll post all my submissions soonish (hopefully finished), and I apologize for any formatting defects since I’m posting from my cell phone, otherwise I’ll forget to post it at all.

Sorry this is messy! I love y’all! Stay healthy.

————

“Quiet, you morons!” Bannock… whispers?

Is that the right descriptor for the harsh, low sounds that comes from his mouth? I’m not quite sure, but I look at him sheepishly, since I was the one to trip on air this time around and nearly knock down a clothesline, poles and all.

“S-sorry…” I stutter drunkenly.

Rye shrugs, uncaring. Asshole!

Bannock glares at us with his bloodshot, angry blue eyes before turning around and creeping forward.

It’s a chilly night out, with no stars and just a sliver of moon casting minimal light over us, ideal to maraud and raid… if we lived any place else, that is.

If we were to find ourselves face to face with the flashlight of a Peacekeeper patrolling the streets, things could go anywhere from awkward to deadly, and I really hope we don’t have to find out how it’ll truly go. We’re wasted, outside our house after curfew, and facing our mother’s wrath would probably be as terrible as any punishment the peacekeepers would inflict on us.

The later option has me swallowing thickly.

I’m no coward by any stretch of the word… but I do enjoy being alive, so… yeah.

“Don’t mess around, no more!” Bannock chides.

As soon as Bann turns around, Rye mouths his words back, mockingly, and I wonder— not for the first time— how can my brothers be so immature? Bannock just turned 25, while Rye has the mind of a 13 year old trapped in the muscular body of a 24 year old man; leaving sweet, little me, the 21 year old baby sibling, to bring the rear.

Rye burps, mostly quietly, earning another warning glare from Bann. All things considered, I’m a little impressed at how stealthily we’ve been moving so far, being as enebriated as we are and all. But who knows? Maybe we really aren’t as slick as my alcohol soaked brain thinks we are, and I’m just too skunked to know any better.

“D’you think we’ll be back before father wakes to take care of the ovens?” Rye slurs a little, squinting his eyes at a cat trotting across the alley in front of him. A second later he’s frowning down at the cat, shushing it obnoxiously, as if it’s soft paws are the ones making the stopping sounds coming from his own boots.

Bannock shrugs, “Who cares!”

I’m about to raise my hand and respond that I do, I care, but Rye starts laughing like an idiot, already distracted by something else. We turn to catch him picking up a stick and throwing it at the poor, unsuspecting cat. As soon as the stick hits it’s side, the animal loses its balance, making it fall into a trash can, with a terrified cry.

It’s awful. And loud.

“Knock it off!” Bannock growls as quietly as he can. “You’re gonna wake up the whole town, asshole!”

The cat meows indignantly, climbing out of the trash. He jumps to the other side and it’s gone in the next moment.

I sigh, rubbing one hand over my face. “Guys, I think we should go back. I don’t think Father will approve of this.”

“Shut up, Peeta!”

“Yeah! Shut it, runt!”

I grunt in aggravation under my breath. “I’m serious. We shouldn’t be out here… at all!” I insist.

“Why did you come then?” Bann hisses.

“You dragged me out with you, jackass!” I counter, pointedly. Plus, I’m the least drunk out of the three of us, and I figured I should keep an eye on them two, make sure they don’t get hurt in this idiotic quest… but I don’t say that out aloud. “I still don’t understand why, are we stumbling across town in the middle of the night, risking getting caught outside after curfew.”

“You know why, Peeta! We’ve gone over it to death,” snaps Bann, twisting his whole body to face me and almost walking into a potted plant sitting by somebody’s back door. ��Father doesn’t know how to take care of himself, let alone how to defend his honor!”

“Our hands have been forced, runt. We need to pick up the slack, that’s why!”

I roll my eyes at my brothers.

It’s true though. For the last 26 years, our father has been both the butt of every joke said in the streets of district 12, and the victim of a tragic cautionary tale, people somehow feel the sadistic inclination to bring up to us, Mellark boys, as if we needed the reminder.

“Geez… save it for Everdeen, Bann. Let the runt keep his head instead of chewing it off him!”

Bannock frowns. It’s not everyday Rye comes to my defense, which means he really must be hammered.

Cool! I love brotherly affection… even if given under the influence.

“Whatever.” Bannock mutters under his breath. “We’re here anyway.” He signals to the fence dividing our district into two unequal sections: the merchant quarter, where we live, and the Seam (our destination), the largest— yet poorest— side of 12.

It’s unclear why the government erected the fence running right through the district in the first place, but the effect of having a literal barrier separating everyone in our small district, couldn’t be any clearer: we have a huge social divide amongst our people, very distinct and hard to overcome. Both sides distrusting the other, despite there never being a tangible reason why.

Personally, I think the most logical explanation for the creation of the internal fence, was just sheer desire to create hostility and antagonism between the citizens of 12… maybe it’s easier for the Capitol’s long arm to control a podunk place like here, when there’s an unbridgeable social chasm between our own denizens; how can we band together to demand better treatment and fair representation from the mighty Capitol, when we’re fighting with each other?

Of course, I keep my opinion to myself, because speaking of such things is just a sure way to find oneself in prison, facing charges of public agitation and whatnot.

Bann cuts through my musings, “Alright… let’s find a spot to cross over.” He says determined and still very intoxicated.

The worst kept secret in District 12, is how some sections of the fence are too close to the houses in the merchant side. If one really wants to cross into the other side over the fence, one only needs to look for a low wall adjacent to the top links of the fence to climb on, and after that, it’s all a matter of gravity pulling you down. Its been done before too…

Everyone speculates that’s what happened the day our father fell into disgrace: A man from the Seam found a weak spot to exploit… and the rest is history. Never mind the fact that jumping the fence is a common enough hooligan deed; how else can teenage couples reach the Slag Heap at the edge of the old coal mines to engage in their secret affairs?

It only takes us a few minutes to find a brick wall circling the backyard of a random house, just two feet shy of the fence.

We climb it with all the grace of a pig crawling up a greased pole, but after much huffing and puffing, we manage— with great effort— to drag ourselves over the barrier. We’re sweating and swearing, but who could blame us for that? We Mellark boys are just too broad and heavy with muscle, add to the mix the fact that we’ve drank our body weight in white liquor right before Bann had the brilliant idea of dragging us out here, and you have an uncoordinated— mostly clumsy— sad excuse, trio of vandals.

Rye goes first, then I go; finally, Bannock splatters down like a bullfrog, falling on his ass. He’s disgruntled and I suspect in dire need of a nap.

“Come on!” He commands, dusting his behind sloppily.

We’ve been walking aimlessly through unfamiliar dirt roads and dark unpaved alleys. The place is littered with produce crates set upside down in neat circles every other road… I vaguely wonder if that’s what passes as a socializing hot spot here in the Seam, like the square with its concrete benches is for us in town?

Sometimes I forget how things can be so shitty on this side of the District. It makes my stomach twist unpleasantly with guilt, realizing I take certain privileges for granted.

About five minutes into our stupid intrusion into Seam territory, Rye speaks up.

“Dude… do you know where they live?”

Bannock’s head snaps up, clearly annoyed. “How hard can it be to find the Seam’s apothecary?”

Very, actually.

First of all, The Seam consists of row after row of seemingly identical shacks, in varying states of shabbiness, arranged in a huge matrix of sorts. Each row is made of three to five houses with a slim road in between the next set of homes.

For what I gather in my limited liquor-addled brain, each horizontal row has a designated letter, and the vertical street goes by number. Other than that, there are no other distinguishing signs, telling us where we are or how to find the ‘Seam apothecary’ as Bann inarticulately dubbed it.

Rye groans in annoyance, seeming ready to overrule Bannock and call the whole thing off, himself; but my drunk ass is too stupid to keep my big mouth shut.

“They live close to the electric fence. Right before the meadow. They probably have a fence-in yard, too.”

I wince, regretting my words right away. I shouldn’t have said anything, but like an idiot, I couldn’t help spilling out the small bursts of information I’ve gathered over the years on the Everdeens.

I’m ashamed to admit it, but the Everdeens are a bit of an obsession to me… for all of us Mellarks, really. Given our entangled past with them, it shouldn’t be so much of a revelation, but this thing between our families has been a nuisance ever since I can remember and while my brothers and mother use it as a focal point of hatred and animosity. For me, is a curiosity driven thirst for knowledge on everything Everdeen. Anything that could shed light on our sordid past, I would gobble up, trying to answer why something that has virtually nothing to do with me and my brothers, still haunt us everywhere we go.

Rye frowns. “Fence-in yard?” He looks around the houses we are passing, realizing none of those have fences.

“Goat.” Bannock grunts, nodding thoughtfully. “Good catch, runt.”

“Huh?” Rye is scratching his head, confused.

“The blonde girl,” Bann says with mild irritation.

People from the Seam have a very specific look to them: dark— usually straight— hair, gray eyes, olive skin… ‘blonde’, blue eyed and pale, is more of a descriptor for people from the merchant class, like us… like Mrs. Everdeen.

The poor woman must stick out like a sore thumb in here; probably the same goes to her merchant-looking daughter, Primrose.

“What about the blonde?”

“She makes goat cheese.” Bann huffs as explanation, but since Rye still looks like the concept is too hard to fathom, Bannock grunts, expanding. “She trades the cheese in town. Mainly with Father. Which means, Everdeen has to keep at least one goat for the girl to have access to milk.”

“M’kay… goat, fences, meadow.” Rye lists clumsily on his fingers, following after Bann. “Got it!”

We quickened our steps in the direction of the electric fence. I’m still kicking myself for saying anything when we reach the last row of houses before the meadow.

I really hope I’m wrong about them having a goat, although I find it hard to believe Primrose steals milk from other people for her cheeses. She looks so sweet and innocent.

Alas, I’m too clever for my own good sometimes.

The very first house in the row at the edge of the meadow, has a pen connected to the house on the strip of backyard allotted to them. A tiny but sturdy shed stands against the back wall of the house, and if my eyes don’t deceive me, I can barely make out the snout of a goat, peeking out of the narrow opening of the shed.

“This is it!” Rye crows excitedly, rubbing his hands together and licking his chops like a hungry, humanoid wolf.

“Yeah. Finally!” Grunts Bann, “keep your voice down, doofus.” his reaction, both frenzied and anxious.

“Let’s do this!” Rye’s smile is deranged.

“Great!” I hiccup with fake enthusiasm. “What are we doing?” I deadpan, staring at my siblings with all the aggravation I can muster.

My brothers speak excitedly at the same time:

“Taking one of the girls back home with us!”/“Beating the shit out of Everdeen!”

My brothers look at each other, perplexed, and go, “”What?!” At the same time.

“Fuck!” I groan to the skies, noting its near dawn. “You better be joking! We came all the way out here, and you idiots didn’t plan what you were going to do once we arrived?”

“No… I mean, yes! No. it’s simple,” Slurs Rye trying to stare me in the eye and failing miserably, “We’re dragging Everdeen out here. Then, we’ll beat the snot out of the bastard, and have you doodle the whole thing out for Father… you’ll finally use that art talent of yours for something we’ll all enjoy… not just you,”

“No, no, no, no!” Snaps Bannock. “We’re taking one of Everdeen’s daughters, bring her back home with us, and avenge father.”

“What? Why?” Rye whines much too loud and even I shush him. “I thought we were just gonna jump the bastard and rearrange his face a little,” Rye sounds disappointed.

Bannock answers right away, sounding like our mother when she’s chiding us for some thing or another. “Dude… the guy stole Dad’s girl! You know what they say about repaying a slight with the same coin and all that shit. It stands to reason, the course of action here is to take one of the girls home with us, sleep with her, and get her pregnant or something, then she can’t come back to her daddy.”

I throw my hands up in the air, “That’s it! I’m out!” My brain practically short circuits with the outrageous shit my brothers are spewing out of their mouths.

Sure, beating the lights out of an unsuspecting man in front of his house in the middle of the night is already crazy, but Bann’s idea to take a girl away from her home, it’s beyond preposterous!

Instead of lashing out, I turn around and stalk away as fast as my legs can carry me. I’m still tipsy, so I stumble a little, but I’m determined to leave.

“Hey! Where are ya going?!”

I get grabbed by the bíceps and pulled back to ‘hide’ behind a scraggly bush overlooking the house we assume is Everdeen’s. My brothers push me down by the shoulders roughly, until I’m sitting on my ass.

“The hell is wrong with you two?” I snarl, trying to punch and kick either one of them.

“Shut up, runt! They’re gonna hear you!”

“Good! Then someone will call the Peacekeepers over.”

“Wha— No! Why would you want that?” Rye whines.

“I didn’t sign up for any of this crazy shit!” I spit enraged.

“Dude, you can’t bail on operation BREAD,” Rye scrunches up his face.

“Operation Bread? What in the hell, is operation Bread?” I wrench my arms free from them at last, glowering up at both.

“Bring Revenge on Everdeen to Avenge Dad!” Rye says proudly, a lopsided smile brightens his face, and all I want to do is punch his nose.

“You’re insane!” I sputter.

“No… I’m cle-ver!” Rye grins, tapping a finger to his temple.

“Come on, Peeta. You know this needs to be done!” Bann cuts in.

“No! It doesn’t!” I argue. I still feel woozy from alcohol though, so it’s costing me too much effort trying to get up. “This is just insane, Bannock! What you’re proposing is just… heinous!” I hiss.

Bannock’s face hardens, “Nobody will see it like that.” He assures, “An eye for an eye, baby brother.”

“So what? We’re gonna kidnap and rape an innocent girl in revenge, and you think that’ll fix anything? Will it bring peace? It’ll help you get Madelynn’s parents to back off and let her marry you?” I’m so pissed off, I’m pretty sure spittle is flying out of my mouth. “It won’t do anyone any good! Not us, nor father, and especially not Katniss or Primrose!”

“Shut the fuck up!” Bannock flies at me, and all I have to do is lift my arms to shield my head.

Rye is an equal opportunity asshole most of the time, but in this moment, he’s the one stopping Bannock from breaking my face in two, and I’m very grateful for my middle brother manhandling our eldest for me.

“Rape is a strong word, runt.” Rye gasps with the effort of keeping Bannock from kicking my ass. But if the wrinkling of his nose is any indication, I think maybe my words are chipping away some of his complicitness in this mess. “Maybe, what Bann meant, was, one of us will… you know… spend time with the girl, and then… make her his common law wife or something?” Rye looks at Bann expectantly.

Bannock nods. Rye lets go of him.

We all stay silent, breathing heavily for a moment.

“Same coin. Simple as that.”

If the stories are to be believed, Sorrel Everdeen crossed the fence dividing the merchant quarter and the seam, kidnapped my father’s betrothed— Lily— and made her his common law wife, despite being common knowledge, that the woman in question was engaged to our father since they were very young.

It’s an old rumor, really, with no real way to fact-check the events that led to this moment in time, but there’s always been some nasty whispering churning around town; tales varying in height and perjury, sometimes scandalous, others depraved, always with add-ons and full of conjectures flavored by the speaker in turn, but never the whole truth.

The worst thing is that the stories die down for a while when something juicer comes up, but then resurface, like a persistent oily stain on cement… It’s been 26 years since the real events leading to the Everdeens controversial marriage took place, yet the old gossip mill in District 12 has waxed over and rewritten the sordid story through the lense of judgemental people over and over again, until even our mother has started to repeat the outlandish tales, as if she wasn’t an active participant of the story herself.

Still… “I just can’t!” I say both exasperated and grossed out. “We should just go home—“

I get cut off when the door of the Everdeen house opens spilling faint candlelight into the almost blackened-out street.

My brothers rush to huddle around me, crowding on top of me like a pair of boulders… or worse: a pair of sweaty, heavy, alcohol doused men. Disgusting!

The door of the shack closes softly and to our shock, a very angry looking Katniss Everdeen stomps in the direction of the sad excuse for a bush we’re hiding in.

“Hmm… guys… I think she sees us.” I mumble calmly, yet terrified. Katniss Everdeen, eldest daughter of Sorrel and Lily, is coming our way with fire in her eyes.

TBC on AO3…

#Springtime Edition 2020 #alliswell21 #567inpanem #prompt 23 #submission

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darisu-chan · 4 years ago

Text

whatever our souls are made of (his and mine are the same), pt. 4

Hi everyone!

I’m back with another one-shot.

Sorry if I’m late.

Hope you guys like this one too!

You can also read it here.

promise

Prompt: crossing blades, crossing hearts

Summary: As their swords clash, their true feelings come to light.

Their swords clash in rapid succession.

The thunderous sound echoes throughout the room.

Rukia takes steady breaths before they collide once more.

Each time their swords meet, she feels a sudden surge of energy rushing through her very soul.

It is almost as if she and her opponent were connected.

But there is no time to wonder about such things.

Training is crucial, and, so, she has to take this session seriously.

When she had woken up in the Soul King Palace, completely healed from her previous injuries, she wouldn’t have ever imagined that she would get to train, knowing that time was ticking by and their enemy was fast approaching. Yet here she is. And although nii-sama had told her that she must acquire Bankai, she’s not sure how she’s even going to achieve such a feat in so little time. After all, it normally takes a Shinigami ten years of rigorous training to get their Bankai. The only Shinigami she knows that had done it in less time was Ichigo, and even then it had taken him three full days.

And speaking of which…

Ichigo is currently forcing her back with another round of attacks.

As always, his form is impeccable and his parries carry all of his strength.

He’s not holding back, and Rukia is thankful for that. It means he’s not underestimating her. Or worse, attempting to protect her. It shows he trusts her to meet each one of his attacks with one of her own.

It is not easy, though.

Her kenjutsu has never been the best, and though she excels at kidō, now it is not the time to use it. She really needs to focus on her zanpakutō. She needs to trust in her abilities, to trust Sode No Shirayuki, so that she will grant her this new ability she desperately needs if she wants to help defeat the Quincy King.

But try as she might, she can’t quite focus on her task.

Her opponent is being very distracting.

It is not his fault at all, though.

Yet Rukia can’t keep herself from overanalyzing the situation.

Because when Ichigo had come back to the training grounds, she had immediately noticed that something major had changed.

It is not only in his reiatsu or the fact he has two swords now. There is just something in his gaze and in the way he stands.

There is a surety in him that wasn’t there before.

And Rukia can’t help but wonder what had transpired in his trip to Karakura or in his inner world that had changed him so.

Ichigo’s less a boy and more like a man than ever before.

And the thought is a little scary, quite honestly.

It makes her feel restless.

“Is something the matter?” He suddenly asks, jumping back and relaxing his stance.

Damnit.

Of course he had noticed something was amiss with her.

“Nothing.” She replies, keeping her voice neutral. “Let’s keep going.”

Her opponent nods and attacks her again, but as their fight continues, Rukia cannot keep up with him, and Ichigo can perceive the way she hesitates during each attack.

It is not really her fault that her mind is everywhere but on the fight.

There is so much she wishes to say, to ask, but can’t.

And it starts showing in her attacks.

“Ok. Time out.” Ichigo says out loud as he stops fighting completely.

“What?!” She exclaims. “We can’t stop now! There’s much left to do!”

He shakes his head. “Rukia, whenever our swords meet, I can feel how unfocused you are. I know something’s bothering you. So we can either keep going without making much progress, or we can talk about it and then resume our training.”

Too bad for her that she can’t disagree with that.

But inside she curses the fact that her brother and Renji had gone off to train together, and had left her with Ichigo. Because he is so attuned to her reiatsu and her body language, he is instinctively aware when something’s not right. And right now Rukia doesn’t think it’s the time to talk about feelings and changes, much less because she doesn’t mean to pry into his life.

And yet…

She can’t say no to him.

So she lets him lead her to a secluded corner where they can sit down to talk.

She notes that Ichigo is unusually calm for someone who has been through so much in the last few hours.

It is kind of unnerving, how at ease he seems.

Just what in the world had happened to him?

“So what’s wrong?” Ichigo asks her, looking directly into her eyes.

She, instead, looks down and her eyes trace the double Zangetsu, as it rests next to Sode no Shirayuki.

“Ah. You’re probably wondering about that.” He says as he scratches his neck.

“Look, if you don’t want to tell me anything, it’s fine. You don’t need to go out of your way to tell me something if you don’t want me to.” She retorts, hoping he would drop the subject.

She has no such luck.

Ichigo sighs and then turns to her. “Rukia, when we first met, you told me you would wait until I was ready to tell you about my mom. Do you remember?”

She blinks in surprise twice before answering. “Yeah. I remember.”

“Well, I think I’m ready now.” He responds.

“You really don’t have to─”

“I think it’s time.”

“Ichigo, don’t─”

“Rukia.” The way he says her name silences her. “My father is a Shinigami… and my mother… my mother was a Quincy.” He reveals, but his voice doesn’t sound angry or disbelieving. It seems as if he has already come to terms with this fact.

The resolve that laces his words is enough to stop her from trying to keep him from sharing too much. Instead, Rukia listens.

She listens as Ichigo tells her a story about destiny.

But, most importantly, a story about love.

Rukia is rendered speechless by the way he unravels in front of her the image of Kurosaki Masaki. His beloved mother.

And now she understands with more clarity his pain in losing her. His guilt. The weight he has been carrying since he was a young boy. How everything he thought he knew about his parents wasn’t the actual truth. And what that means to him. To find out about his true heritage.

Yet there is no grief, no anger, no resentment.

Ichigo is not upset anymore.

He has finally found his peace.

And Rukia is so grateful for that, because if there’s someone in the Soul Society or the Human World who deserves a semblance of serenity, it is Ichigo and his restless soul.

“So… what do you think?” He asks at the end of his tale, clearly worried about her opinion.

He needn’t worry.

“Ichigo… I…”

There’s so much Rukia wants to say.

That his mother sounds like a wonderful person.

That Yhwach is even more evil than she had thought.

That his parents lived through a real love story.

That she’s sad that Ichigo had to experience such a loss at a tender age.

That she wishes she would have been able to meet Masaki.

But, instead, she takes his large hands in her tiny ones and entwines their fingers together, as she feels herself fill with resolve.

“I’m glad you know the truth now.” She tells him and Ichigo smiles in relief.

“Yeah… me too…”

“And now everything makes sense. No wonder you’re so weird.” She jests, gently poking his chest.

He rolls his eyes as he swats her hand away. “Yeah, yeah. Let’s see if now you’ll be able to focus.”

“Ha! Of course I will! I’ll even beat your ass.”

“I wanna see that.” He retorts, and now there’s mirth in his voice.

He sounds younger now, and happier too.

It is as it should be.

Ichigo shouldn’t have to carry so much weight on his shoulders.

Sadly, there is not much time to sit and mull on this new information she has received.

The Quincy King will not wait for anybody, and Rukia has a duty to uphold.

To the Soul Society.

To her brother.

But most importantly, to Ichigo and two herself.

The two don’t take long to stand up and parry again.

As their swords meet once more, it feels more like a dance than a fight.

They are finally back in synch.

Each time they clash, Ichigo smiles at her so tenderly that Rukia can feel her breath leaving her.

But now’s not the time for that.

Later, when they have defeated Yhwach, she will have the time to sort through her thoughts.

In the meantime, she uses shunpō to step away, and attack Ichigo from behind.

He barely manages to duck.

She can’t help but laugh at how easy it feels to train with him.

It is reminiscent of how she had taught him how to be a Shinigami all those years ago.

Who would have thought the mentee would become the mentor?

Ichigo instructs her on what her mindset should be.

She closes her eyes and envisions her inner world.

Inside of her, Sode no Shirayuki buzzes in excitement.

“Are you ready?” Her zanpakutō asks her.

“I am.” Rukia answers with certainty.

“Then promise me─”

Promisemepromisemepromiseme

As ice and snow fall inside of her, and as she looks into Ichigo’s warm eyes, she makes a promise to him and to herself.

She’s now ready for Bankai.

#ichiruki #ichirukimonth #ichirukimonth2020 #pro ichiruki #ichiruki fanfiction #my fanfiction

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itsybitsylemonsqueezy · 4 years ago

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Hey, I’m here once again with the ranting (if you don’t mind)! I just finished playing Yakuza 5 and damn I have a lot of feels I want to share. When I was first introduced to the franchise, I thought that nothing could beat Zero for me, but here I am now, holding back my tears and thinking what a fine game 5 turned out to be! I really loved the bonds that characters formed along the way, it just felt so sincere and warm that my heart throbbed nearly at every dialogue Х) Like Saejima/Baba, Mirei/Haruka (and Akiyama too!), Shinada/Takasugi were absolutely delightful. And don’t get me started on the ending scene with Kiryu and his daughter. I fucking lost it there. So damn emotional and pure. And while I adore Zero for its majestic tragedy and fatalism, I also love the kind and inspiring atmosphere of 5. Of course, there were some flaws, like I didn’t find the main antagonist all that interesting (especially after Ryuji and Mine), but in the end I was ready to overlook it just because the heartwarming scenes between the characters were so well done. So yeah, for me it’s top tier along with Zero. What’s your personal opinion on the game (and your favorites in the series in general)?

Congrats! Oooooh, Game 5. I’ve got a lot of feels about Game 5 too ^^; It’s a real fav c: There’s an awful lot I love about it, but there’s one or two things that really stick in my craw. I’m not sure I could put it up with Zero, but it’s definitely a game I treasure c:

I find it interesting that your interpret Zero as fatalistic and 5 as inspiring. Zero definitely has a lot of high-key tragedy, but I think the fact that we come through the other side, that Kiryu doesn’t go into the ground with Tachibana, that Majima decides that even though he could be happy with Makoto, it isn’t what he wants, I find that really powerful and even hopeful. Not inspiring perhaps, the choices we all make in that game are crushingly hard and frequently we’re punished for things that aren’t our fault. But seeing Kiryu confront his potential for the first time and, perhaps for the last time, deciding he’s not afraid of it, that this is a mantle he can carry and do good with, really does things for me. And I’ve gone on at length before about how we ought to read Majima’s choice at the end as not sacrificial, not denial, but rather a choice of identity. What stopped him from going with Makoto isn’t fear for what it would do to her (though certainly those protective instincts are still alive and well), but rather a... with nothing holding him back, he would still choose the life he started. He could leave it all right here but... there are things he wants to do, not has to do, wants to do. And he makes the choice to be yakuza, to be the Mad Dog, crucially, before he sees Kiryu. He could leave it all behind, but then he wouldn’t be himself. He wants to be yakuza. And he couldn’t do that if he was with her. I think that’s really cool and really life-affirming.

Meanwhile 5... it’s hard for me to articulate what 5 is about because we have a bunch of different character arcs, some of which mesh quite nicely and some of which have nothing at all to do with each other. It’s probably best if I just break this down piece by piece ^^;

(spoilers follow for game 5 my little chili babies)

Kiryu’s arc, as I have articulated before, I fucking love in game 5. However, I do have my criticisms of it. In many ways, the conflict we’re facing in 5 is something that should have come up awhile back. But, even delayed, it is satisfying. It is satisfying to force Kiryu to confront his mistakes. It is satisfying to at least reach a turn on Kiryu, to have him decide that he wants to live and does feel worthy, even if it’s at the last possible second. Like, I interpret 5 as much more fatalistic because Kiryu’s dying in the snow in the middle of saying how he wants to come home to his daughter. Like... he may have finally gotten his revelation, but he was already in the middle of repeating the cycle. What would have been truly satisfying was to force him to live, to insist that he grow up and learn how to live with people because dying won’t fix it. This is a problem we’ve had since the beginning and have never really addressed. This was our chance to address it and it breaks my heart that game 5 comes so close and was going the right direction, but doesn’t quite give us that resolution that Kiryu’s going to continue his relationships and be okay now, that he isn’t going to back out this time. And if the creators had been brave they would have ended the fucking series here with that resolution. That’s SO OBVIOUSLY the main conflict in Kiryu’s plot and here, at last, we were finally fucking dealing with it and this SHOULD HAVE BEEN THE END. THIS WAS IT. THE ACTUAL FUCKING END, I- *breathes* Let me not derail this entire thing with game 6. Let’s just... never talk about game 6.

That said... one of the things I ADORE about game 5 is this is the clearest sense of motivation we’ve had since Kiwami 1. For the first time in FUCKING FOREVER character choices made sense! HALLE-FUCKING-LUJAH. I CANNOT TELL YOU what it did to me that it was Majima that got Kiryu into the game. I cannot tell you the breath of life it gave me, after all this fucking BULLSHIT, that the game came FUCKING HOME on the most important person to Kiryu is Majima. Daigo needs help? Kiryu can’t help. Haruka needs her dad? Kiryu can’t help. These are both mistakes, don’t get me wrong! Absolutely terrible decisions, but they make sense out of Kiryu’s depression, out of his fears and doubts and feelings of unworthiness, his guilt. He’s so caught up in “better off without me” and so scared and so guilty, he can’t answer people even when they ask for help. But Majima. He can’t turn away from. He hears Majima’s dead and Kiryu loses his goddamn mind. Because it’s his fault. Because he wasn’t there. Because he left him out there and now Majima’s dead. Kiryu asked him to do something and, for all Kiryu knows, Majima’s dead because of him. And... as much as Kiryu hates himself in this moment, as much as Kiryu is sure that it’s all his fault, he’s SO upset, he has to go help, he HAS to go fix it. Majima’s dead and with his last breath, Kiryu will make this fuckign right. He’s gotta try. Because Majima being dead is... unacceptable. He can’t handle it. I fucking love that. At long last, it felt like the same story I’d been watching from 1. At long fucking last, we got some fucking proof of Kiryu’s feelings. And for that alone, I love game 5. I’ve got some issues with it, but that was... vindication. Spent 3 games waffling and pretending we didn’t know him unless we’re literally in the same scene, but even Kiryu’s denial isn’t that strong. Majima’s dead and Kiryu can’t anymore. He’s gonna go there and, god help him, he’ll go into the ground with him. You look at that and tell me it was un-fucking-requited.

On that note, I just gotta gush for a second about that scene where the girl is naked in Kiryu’s apartment and Kiryu just ???? He’s not even “no thank you” he’s like PAINED. Like... she hugs him and Kiryu looks like he’s being fucking tortured! That is not the reaction of someone with even an iota of attraction to feminine bodies! This gay icon! Like, if you’d done that to Majima he would have been like “You’re pretty, babe, but I am Emotionally Unavailable” like the bi icon he is, like... you may not take her up on it, but you can still appreciate her or at least turn her down gracefully. But Kiryu out here doing his best to touch her as little as humanly fucking possible like’ he’s TERRIFIED. That’s not someone being overly polite, that was “cannot conceive of being attracted to this.” Just... this gay fucking dad. Holy christ.

Related GOTTA love Kiryu’s boss being “Hey, there’s a rumor going around that you’re gay! Any thoughts?” and Kiryu just “That Is A Thing People Ask Me” which is the EXACT RESPONSE of a queer person who doesn’t want to out themselves but also doesn’t want to lie. Game 5 fucking iconic for those 2 scenes alone, god bless.

Moving away from Kiryu for a second, although this game is VERY about Kiryu’s story, let’s talk about Saejima! Saejima FINALLY gets to come into his own as a character, we get to handle him properly as a character and not as a crux in Majima’s character development. I love the marked differences in how Kiryu and Saejima respond to Majima and handle him. I love that they fucking NAILED motivation here. That Kiryu and Majima mutually code romantic, that they both make batshit decisions because of each other, in that way that you do when you’re madly in love with someone. Meanwhile, Saejima loves his brother but isn’t in love with him. Saejima’s relationship with Majima is stable and trusting. He’s not losing his mind over Majima’s death because he trust him and knows him. If he’s dead, Saejima trusts that Majima did all he could and it was just his time. That’s why he’s not losing his mind, he’s resolved. He just wants to know what happened. And it’s this stability that really tells us who Saejima is and how he functions as a protag. His strength is his trust in others, which at times IS naive, but it’s also what turns Baba. It’s what keeps Saejima strong when Kiryu’s falling apart. It’s so cool to see a character who isn’t paranoid, who isn’t tore up with guilt, in this series with very complicated leads. Saejima is functional and necessary because he isn’t any of those things. He doesn’t get swept up in big emotional turmoil. He cuts through a lot of foibles that would have tripped up his brother or Kiryu and it’s just really refreshing to see and exciting to experience Saejima’s brand of problem solving. He’s not terribly clever and he’s not subtle, but he’s honest and sure that counts for A LOT in this series. Gotta love Saejima.

And, as I have gushed about before and will again, Baba. Baba. Saejima turning Baba hand me fucking ascending. Baba Known Whore Shigecki turning on a time because Saejima screams “Because we’re kyoudai!” I am LIVING. I love their relationship. I love that Baba’s a little shit. I love that he’s inexplicably a supermodel. I love that his constant vibe is “would like to choke til he cries on Saejima’s dick.” I love that Saejima has a gorgeous prison boyfriend. Well deserved! I love the idea of Baba getting integrated into the group. I need WAY more fic about him coming back to live with Saejima in Kamurocho and Saejima just has an ex-assassin boyfriend now and we all get to live with that. Ugggghhhh, bless. So good. No notes, no criticisms, just good.

Haruka was LONG overdue to be a protag, I’m so glad this game did it. But... pop idol? The thing she explicitly said in Kiwami 2 she didn’t want to be? *siiiigh* Like, I get that she can change her mind as she grows up and that that’s the Thing You Do with Japanese teenage girls, but... Imagine Martial Artist Haruka! Raised by the yakuza, surrounded her whole life by people with incredible fighting skills, who would gladly teach her self-defense. Imagine! Or even training her to become a yakuza! My wife and I joke about Seventh Chairman Sawamura Haruka, but imagine how satisfying that would have been! A whole Tojo dynasty of Kiryu’s kids! She’s so ripe for it! And I know the yakuza is a male-only organization but... c’mon, this is fiction and sexism is boring. I guess I can understand the creators unwillingness to depict violence against women, even if it’s being perpetrated by other women but uh... *eye twitch* game 5 is maybe not the BEST example of their... respecting women...

*screams into a pillow for several minutes* *breathes* *screams for another fifteen minutes* Okay... I uh... I um... can’t talk about Mirei Park without having an aneurysm. PLEASE skip this bullet point if you don’t want to read Mirei Hate. I just... I Hate Everything About Her And I Don’t Know Why She Fucking Exists. I don’t want to rain on anyone’s parade and if you like Mirei, y’all welcome to feel how you feel but... she is the only thing I truly Hate about game 5. I just... leaving aside my personal feelings about the... Majima part of her story which we just... Won’t talk about... Leaving that aside... I don’t know why she’s here? She’s the person who convinces Kiryu to leave his children. She’s predatory, she took advantage of a vulnerable young girl to live out some personal dream? Like, sure, economic opportunity, independence, but we don’t get a lot of motive from Haruka that it IS her dream to be a pop idol. She has said in the past that’s not what she wants, she makes mention of doing this for the money to support her family, Mirei LITERALLY SAYS she wants Haruka to do the things she couldn’t, and ultimately Haruka asides not to do this anyway because she’d ratehr be home with her dad! So what was the FUCKING POINT of Mirei Park? Is she a villain? Is she sympathetic? What the fuck was I supposed to take from her? How the fuck am I supposed to read her? She tells this TRAUMATIC story off-hand to Haruka to... justify her decisions? Motivate Haruka? Dragging in another long-term character for no good reason and reframing how we have to think about said character. But then THIS NEVER COMES UP AGAIN. The information wasn’t even important! It’s just traumatic! If it was supposed to keep Haruka doing the pop idol thing, it didn’t work! Haruka still leaves! If this was meant to deepen our relationship to Mirei or complicate her or whatever, IT DOESN’T, SHE WAS LITERALLY DEAD THE NEXT SCENE. I just... WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED HERE?! What even the fuck was I supposed to do with any of this?! Leaving ASIDE my VERY intense feelings about what this did for Majima (for the sake of not going ogg Even More than I already am, I just won’t talk abotu it here), I just have no goddamn clue what the point of Mirei even was. She’s not useful to Haruka’s arc and she only serves in Kiryu’s arc to be a villain. We could have had Haruka leave home and decide in the end that Kiryu’s her dad and that’s where she wants to be a MILLION different ways, we could have done that MUCH more kindly and consistently with the rest of her character and values, but we don’t! We have this shitmess instead!

I’m really really sorry to anyone reading this who likes Mirei. You don’t have to agree with me! And I’m not trying to make you feel bad! I’m not trying to tell people how they should feel or what they should get out of the story. If you got something out of her, you related to her, you found her part in the story meaningful, that’s great! I’m genuinely glad that you did. I... didn’t. I have a lot of negative opinions about what happened. Usually I try to just not talk about it because I don’t want to ruin someone’s good time. I’m not here trying to start shit. So I apologize for my tone and I did try to put a warning before it and recommend it be skipped if it’s the sort of thing that would offend you. My Mirei rant is over now, I won’t talk about it again.

I have absolutely no idea why Akiyama is in this story, tbh? He contributed very little, but I’m glad Haruka got to hang out with someone cool and that one of her uncles was here watching out for her, since Majima was “dead” and Kiryu was in the middle of a personal crisis ^^; I love Akiyama, always happy to see him, but he really had nothing to do here ^^; I was sad for no Hana though 8C Wherever there is Akiyama, there must also be Hana!

Shinada... is adorable and actively injured the plot. I’m sorry, I just... no one ever talks about the fact that including Shinada in the story actively hurt it. I love him too! He’s an incredible idiot and very sweet, but why the fuck is he here? What did an ancient baseball cover up have to do with anything? This was the only way you could think of to put Daigo in the game again? Really??? And Daigo doesn’t even do very much here! So like... not really worth it. You could have had a whole substory of Daigo finding out what happened to Majima, fuck DAIGO COULD HAVE BEEN ONE OF THE PROTAGS. THERE’S A THOUGHT. We could have utilized, y’know, characters we already have, but no, instead we introduce this dumb fuck to do... what exactly? Oh right, beat up Baba AFTER HE HAD ALREADY DECIDED NOT TO SHOOT HARUKA! Like, YOU DIDN’T EVEN NEED SHINADA FOR THE THING YOU NEEDED HIM FOR. Saejima and Kiryu were enough of an influence on Baba to stop him! And that makes sense out of Baba’s character arc, since it’s about personal redemption and learning to be a person and his faith and love of Saejima, y’know, the character he actually HAS a relationship with, is about that. The point of Baba was him learning it WAS his choice and him MAKING that choice. See, I can’t argue that Baba’s superfluous to the plot, but he WAS the threat! He was actively involved and he’s what makes Saejima involved. Shinada doesn’t occupy the same space, he has no horse in this race, he’s not yakuza, he’s only here because he and Daigo kinda like each other or whatever, and, again, HE WASN’T EVEN NEEDED! Baba’s arc was complete and the threat was terminated without this shit! Like, Akiyama has no reason to be here either, but at least he was a true neutral, neither helping nor harming the plot. We actively waste time to bring Shinada in and he hurts Baba’s arc by overly punishing him and potentially risking the decision he just made. Like if I was Baba, I might have gone “you know what, fuck you, I will shoot her just because your self-righteous ass decided to hit me for MAKING THE RIGHT CALL” Jesus...

I hate to be nothing but a curmudgeon but just... no one brings that up and I just had to say it if no one else was gonna.

As for villains, the game would have been a lot stronger without the “thwarted destiny, I should be on the throne” bullshit especially since the story has done a SHIT JOB with the legacy of Nishiki and in NO WAY utilized the fucking koi or the burden of Nishiki’s death properly for this to hit the way it should. It makes theoretical sense that Kriyu’s last villain should be the reincarnation of Nishiki, but the story did not build that up or support it so it falls really flat. That said, the main problem in Kiryu’s arc is that dying is not a resolution. Dying doesn’t fix a problem, it only delays it. THAT’S the thing we have to confront and we almost nearly do and... I’m just so excited that we finally articulated that, I’m willing to forgive A LOT.

And finally we wrote Majima entirely out of the game only to confirm that his only reason for living is Kiryu and then, again, didn’t resolve it because, y’know, fuck ending things, I guess? But he did have that sweet fight with Saejima and can do shadow clones now I guess? Fucking ninja magic or whatever. Sure, Majima’s so OP he can do fucking shadow clones now. No, teleporting wasn’t enough, he can fucking shadow clone. That’s like a staisfying story arc right? ...right?

#Yakuza 5 spoilers #Mirei Park hate #this is probably saltier than it should be #I really do love game 5!#Just... it fucked up little things and it makes me sad #floweysky

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