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vacantgodling · 2 years ago

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GETTING TO KNOW JIHAN AND HUE

tagging @calicojackofficial & @an-elegant-void bc they fuel me tm

this is gonna be long but a bunch of questions about jihan & hue’s relationship i’ve answered and compiled here! feel free to ask me more or just sop it up like a sponge lmaooo

1. Describe their first date.

jihan asked hue out after probably 6 months of dancing around one another once they were formally introduced. they went to a bowling alley, absolutely shouted and screamed and got mad competitive (the whole alley was up in arms about this match lol) and then they left laughing hand in hand. then they went stargazing and hue fell asleep on jihan’s chest and jihan was like wow ig i’m in love PFF.

2. Who wakes up early/Who sleeps in late?

lmao they’re both nocturnal. hue tends to wake up earlier though, usually to help the girls with school. jihan is a sleepy boy :D

3. What was their first impression of each other?

hue was super attracted to jihan off the bat but said absolutely NOTHING lol. jihan also had a bit of a different look back then (slicked back hair that was darker, clean shaven, bit of a punker style, he settled into the look he has now lol.) even jihan licking the blood off his fingers like he was like “ishouldnotfindthisattractiveishouldnotfindthisattractive—”

jihan thought hue was cute but was worried that he was lost or wanted to fight him since he was staring at him so hard lol.

4. Who initiates affection? Why does the other not initiate affection as much?

both of them are extremely affectionate with one another i don’t think there’s any hesitation in that regard, but that’s kind of what happens when you’ve been with someone for as long as they have lol. they’re extremely comfortable.

5. Do they argue often? If so, what do they argue about?

they rarely argue. they’ve had a few before, about the kids and just random shit that they both got too proud to apologize for.

6. How do they make up/apologize after an argument?

they usually have in depth convos where they try to pinpoint where the problem was and talk out their sides and apologize once they truly understand where the other person was coming from. then they either go on a date, cuddle, or fuck, depending on the situation lol.

7. How often do they say “I love you”?

not insanely often, though jihan is more likely to say it aloud.

8. What do they love most about the other? Why?

hue loves jihan’s wisdom—for a variety of reasons (some are related to the bedroom LOL). but really, he loves how jihan is patient and observant, and knows. it helps him feel secure in forging his own path by having someone who can support him without having to use words, just understanding.

jihan loves hue’s stability. he never thought he’d be interested in being tied down—and while he’s had loves in the past, he’s never gone and started a fucking family with any of them.

9. What do they dislike most about the other? Why?

neither are dislikes born of malice but hue hates that jihan is immortal and jihan is frustrated when hue tries to shoulder everything on his own instead of letting him share the weight of things weighing on him.

10. Do they share any hobbies or interests? How do these things bring them together?

they share a good chunk of things in common. games, sports, and adrenaline seeking are a big thing for them. but they also kind of picked up on each others hobbies too? hue likes strategy and intellectual things like reading which jihan can be a bit bored to do. but audio books and hue reading to him have definitely gotten him into it, as well as movies and cinema. jihan also didn’t pick up cooking until hue bc there was no reason but the methodical process and plating really strikes his fancy. jihan is a traveler and hue has never been interested in it before him. jihan is also a collector of random facts and experiences and it grows on hue too. he’s also not particularly artistic but jihan is very good (he’s had centuries of practice lol). but doing wine and art events has warmed hue up to it. it helps them learn more about what they each value and how they see the world, but they’re both pretty open to trying new things generally :)

11. How do they feel about nicknames/pet names? If they like them, what pet names do they use? If they hate them, why do they feel that way?

funnily enough neither of them are huge nickname or pet name people. at most hue will call jihan “han” (which is different than everyone else who calls him ji and jihan isn’t fond of anyone aside from hue calling him that lol). whereas, at most, jihan calls hue “babe” but even that alone makes hue’s face get red lol. neither of them hate pet names or anything i just don’t think they think about them. + their names are pretty straightforward so there’s no like Super Obvious ones lol.

12. Do they have a difficult time when separated from each other, or are they fairly independent?

when they were married, it was pretty easy for them to be separate from each other because the security that they had in each other and their relationship was extremely strong. divorced its really difficult t.

13. How do they keep in contact when they’re apart? Do they write letters, talk on the phone, or simply wait out the time?

usually phone, through texting or calling—the joys of modern tech. they haven’t really been apart much for any extended period of time until the divorce so lol.

14. Do they enjoy PDA, or are they more private with affection?

while its pretty obvious they’re in a relationship together, they don’t really do MUCH pda that’s beyond like, hand holding or pecks on the cheek/chaste kisses in public unless they’re alone. it’s not that they’re private so much as the two of them are rarely alone, be it the kids, hue’s family, friends, crowded public areas etc.

15. What songs remind you of their relationship?

let the predictable sap fest begin

all of me — john legend (a classic)

be — hozier

beautiful soul — jesse mccartney (i had to do it to them)

better love — hozier

better than me — hinder (ouch or whatever lol)

be without you — mary j. blige (OOF)

could it be you — cascada

fall for you — secondhand serenade

gravity — sara bareilles

hate to see your heart break — paramore

here without you — 3 doors down

i’ll be — edwin mccain

iris — the goo goo dolls

16. Would they ever get matching tattoos? If yes, what would these look like?

hue doesn’t like needles so idk if he could be convinced LMAO, but i think jihan has a tattoo for hue already. it’s pretty cheesy, but it’s a minimalist outline of a wolf over his heart. it’s a pretty intimate place to get a tattoo tbh; jihan has tattoos of other people he’s loved (family, friends, past lovers) on him as well, but they aren’t as large or over such a vulnerable spot like that. the love he feels for hue is very… deep lol. if hue were to get over himself and get a tattoo, i think he’d probably get something simple; a circle. jihan has been alive for a long time, and he’ll live for a long time more. to hue it’s like he has no beginning and no ending, but the circle of his arms is where life truly is. sooooo yeah its sappy and jihan would cry about it lol.

21. Do they enjoy domestic life?

A LOT. jihan i think was more surprised by it than hue bc he’s never settled down before.

22. Are they comfortable joking around with each other and being silly/playful?

much of their relationship is built on them being silly and joking with each other lol

25. Do they share a room/house? If so, what does it look like and how does it compliment their personalities?

they used to share a home but jihan moved out recently and has gone back to couch surfing with his friends.

their house looks pretty average on the outside, any standard brick townhome, and on the inside it’s cheerful but dark. you can tell a family and people live there but it’s a lot of dark, warm tones so it’s not hell on either of their senses. there’s a lot of throw pillows and blankets and floor seating for spontaneous cuddle piles and there’s a lot of knick knacks from the girls toys and projects and possessions, to random trinkets they’ve bought for each other etc. it’s not really one person has this style or that style; hue’s never had his own space until he moved out (wolves amiright) and jihan has never had a real Home (at least not for several centuries) so they really built a lot of it together. it speaks volumes to their trust and reliance on one another as well as their teamwork to raise essie and ozzy.

26. What sacrifices do they make for the other?

jihan is actually pretty nomadic; as some of his friends have told hue on several occasions he’s really just a glorified couch surfer. so the fact that he was willing to settle down with hue says a lot about how much he cares about him. he’s usually never enjoyed being stationary lol.

being the breadwinner, hue takes on the brunt of caring for jihan and the girls. it’s not that jihan couldn’t or can’t get a job (he hasn’t had one for a good bit lol) but hue enjoys that he’s able to provide for his family—just seeing them safe and happy is more than enough.

27. How do they say “I love you” non-verbally?

jihan does a lot of things for hue to ease the load and burden. tying his tie is a really intimate thing for the two of them (i can see a scene where someone tries to tie hue’s tie for him at work and it makes him so uncomfortable his skin crawls lol), jihan also touches his pulse points a lot—his wrists or jugular esp. it’s weird but hue gets it; he’s saying i know where your vulnerable spots are and i will cherish them basically lol.

hue scents jihan a lot especially when they’re cuddling. he’s very physically affectionate with jihan who craves that so any act of him touching him or wrapping his arms around him conveys that feeling.

28. Who’s the better chef? Do they cook for the other?

hue, but they have completely different diets lmao. hue usually cooks for himself and the kiddos while jihan grabs a blood bag if he’s feeling peckish. the only time hue really “feeds” jihan is when they’re in bed or if jihan is feeling particularly hungry. there can never be anyone else around tho bc the biting really arouses hue so they usually fuck after lmao.

29. Describe their nighttime routine.

the two of them are more nocturnal, so it’s moreso their daytime routine than anything. at 5-6am, one of them (usually hue) wakes up to get the girls ready for school; making breakfast, making sure their bags are packed, anything project or homework related has been done, and they’re ready to take on the day. once they’re off to school, whichever parent was up gets back in bed and they sleep/doze/etc until around 3-4pm, when the girls get out of school. usually jihan is more awake at this time and so he’ll help get the girls started on homework and will help hue get ready for work (he always ties hue’s ties lol). around 6 hue heads to work. jihan and the girls stay up having fun and doing other things until bed time. then jihan will usually just vibe and wait for hue to get home lol. usually cleaning, reading, setting stuff up, just real house husband stuff :)

30. What are their respective love languages? Do their love languages work well together?

(i did quizzes for these lmao)

hue is definitely words of affirmation. its not necessarily surprising, in the sense that wolves are dogs 💀 but on a more serious level, jihan is pretty forthcoming with his words. he never says anything he doesn’t mean and hue really values that. he values how jihan always knows exactly what to say to make sure he knows he’s loved, appreciated, heard, seen, and cared for. his second biggest would be quality time or gift giving because he enjoys how jihan thinks of him outside of when they’re together, or how he’s the center of his attention when they are.

unsurprising (to me) for jihan, his biggest love languages are quality time and physical touch. having lived so long physical reminders of the person he’s in love with being there and spending time with him are far more valuable than material gain. every touch, absent minded kiss, hug around the waist, date night, it all means the world to jihan. he just wants to be with hue.

these love languages work very well together imo because the two of them are very good at reading people and reading each other. they are acutely aware of what the other enjoys and a lot of the time their love languages overlap. when they go bowling for instance, jihan is always praising hue and cheering him on, letting him know with words how amazing he is. and jihan is just happy to spend time with hue.

31. Do they often go out on dates? What are these like?

when they were married every sunday was date night because jihan thought it was funny for a vampire to be out on a “holy day” when he should be struck down. old rumors and amusements die hard. they do a lot of things to keep things novel, but they are fond of competitive dates and “playing” so, bowling, arcades, escape rooms, paintball even—all things on the table for them. they love to get a good adrenaline pump going whether it be together or against each other. other times if they decide to go at night its very lowkey and usually a lot of stargazing and talking. if its close to hue’s heat its really straightforward and they book a hotel and have fun there lmaooo.

32. Do either of them drink? If so, who’s the lightweight, and how does their partner care for them?

i’d say that jihan is more affected by alcohol than hue because he doesn’t really have “blood” to absorb some of the affects. but it does take him quite more than a few drinks to get actually drunk lmao. when it comes to caring for him, the first rule of thumb for hue is to not let jihan drink when unsupervised. he can be horribly competitive and loves to get in on the fun when drinking so its easy to get him to drink way more than he should. second thing is, if its already too late and jihan’s drunk a lot, he’s very gentle with him. jihan is already sensitive to a number of things; light, noise, etc. but it sharpens when he’s drunk because in an altered state vampires tend to become more alert and defensive—its just apex predator shit for ya. so he never makes sudden moves, always speaks low and hums soothingly to help keep jihan from being jittery. once they make it to a safe place, hue would help jihan get comfortable and get him a blood bag/snack or just give him a meal from the source to help ebb off the alcohol. then he’d cuddle him bc usually once jihan starts to come down he passes out lmao.

33. How do they flirt? Who’s the worse flirt?

hue is very good at flirting when sufficiently motivated to do so. he’s direct, but he’s sensual about it, and its helped him score many a conquest even outside of jihan. however, jihan’s the one person where he tends to get silly with when he flirts. they know each other too well, so there isn’t always a pressure to be sexy all the time lmao.

jihan isn’t the best flirt, or at least, he puts on that persona. while he’s not naive, he just doesn’t really see the point in beating around the bush “do you want to fuck or not?” yknow? things that could come across as flirtatious are for him just genuine honesty. he never says things he doesn’t mean in a way that he doesn’t mean them lol. so ig in a head to head match to pick up someone, hue would definitely win lmaooo.

34. Do they have any inside jokes?

so many i couldn’t count all of them. and i just made them so idk what they are yet lmaooo.

35. Is their relationship a secret? If so, why?

not at all. their divorce is more of the secret, as not many people know about it lol.

36. How do they feel about having kids? Are they in agreement?

yep! when the witch resurgence program came up, they were approached by the agency responsible for homing young witches and after talking it over with each other, they agreed that this would be good for the child but that they were wanting a real family. in his long life, jihan’s never had that before (for many reasons lol) and hue wants to do everything with jihan. coming from a large family himself, hue is used to having many kiddos around and he loves them. they got esther first, and after a few years, her bio parents actually ended up having another witch child, ozzy, so instead of the girls being separated they adopted ozzy too so the girls could grow up together.

37. Who’s more emotionally sensitive/cries more often?

jihan is more emotionally sensitive, but hue cries more often. he feels a lot and its hard to shut it off.

38. Who’s got a quicker temper?

hue definitely. jihan is super laid back.

39. When and how did they admit that they loved each other? If they haven’t yet, why?

took them about 5 years to actually say the words “i love you” to each other, and the first time they did was at their wedding. they didn’t really plan it that way; both of them tend to show affection more than say it outright, but the timing was actually really good. reduced both of them to tears lol.

40. Do they have any regrets in their relationship?

this divorce LMAO.

41. What would they do if they lost the other?

to say hue would be a mess is an understatement. it also wouldn’t be an understatement to say that the potential for him to die of a broken heart—its what happened to his mother after his father died of a sudden illness. wolves are sensitive and hue knows he is too. esther and ozzy would probably be his only way to keep going, even though its dramatic.

jihan is more realistic. he’s loved and lost a few times in his long life, and he’s used to the inevitability of it. it pains him to think about it, so he doesn’t. but if it were to happen jihan would be a mess for a few years. and by a few i mean, probably a few centuries. whenever he’s loved and lost, he’s been off the rails for awhile before he finally is able to move on and change his appearance. he does carry his hurt with him, but having others to love and friends to lean on does help him cope. but i mean, ngl, he would be more fucked up over hue than anyone else he’s loved.

42. What’s their relationship like with each other’s friends/families?

jihan doesn’t really have family but his friends care about hue and think the two of them are good for each other. especially those who have known jihan for a long time (which he has a few friends that old lol).

hue’s family ADORES jihan they practically begged hue to marry him and were so involved in the wedding that it made hue almost embarrassed. when hue told them about the split they were devastated, and know that something is up because the two of them are yknow. bonded af. so not only will hue have his children’s meddling to deal with but also his family’s in helping them get back together 😂

43. If they picked out outfits for each other, what would they look like?

hue would absolutely put jihan in something fitted. a suit, a tight shirt, well fit pants—anything that hugs his body and his curves he would want to see him in, though good luck getting him to admit to it lmao.

jihan loves seeing hue comfortable. sweaters, shirtless in sweatpants or boxers, his clothes.

its funny how they like the opposites on each other LMAO.

44. Do they cuddle often? Why or why not?

oh very often, esp with the girls. jihan actually isn’t used to such frequent cuddling until hue (he’s never been with a werewolf before) but wolves tend to lay on each other for warmth and comfort. once he got adjusted to it and realized that hue didn’t mind how he was cold, he grew addicted to them lol.

45. How do they support each other? How do they rely on each others support?

jihan is everpresent; essentially he knows when hue is struggling with something but he knows better than to try and push him to tell him things when he’s not ready to, or to try and offer help when hue doesn’t think its needed. it just leads to arguments and unhealthy coping mechanisms. even though it sometimes hurts to just stay beside hue and essentially “not do anything,” hue always assures him that his presence is enough, that him never judging him or forcing him to do things when he isn’t ready is more than enough. hue relies on this ever-presentness extremely heavily; he can’t really imagine doing most things without having the pillar of support that is jihan there.

hue is decisive and forthcoming, which is something really appreciates. because of his age and how he is in general, jihan is a person who sort of “lets whatever happen, happen” and its refreshing to have someone who’s, as he says, “young minded” to want to set about getting change and making his life his own himself. it gives jihan the drive to actually seek things that he wants and to put more effort into things he knows he should do.

46. Do they consider their relationship casual or serious? Is the answer different depending on who you ask? Why?

both of them consider it serious. aside from marriage, they’ve spent nearly 20 years together. jihan doesn’t get into relationships unless they’re serious and jihan is hue’s first meaningful relationship. they know each other like the back of their own hands, their home and comfort is in each other. they’ve built a whole family together lmao. the two of them definitely did not roll up to play around.

47. Do they sleep beside each other? Why or why not?

oh definitely lol. both of them are big cuddlers. and because jihan is cold and hue overheats they easily find temperature equilibrium.

48. Do they talk about their future together? Why or why not?

of course! they even got married lmao—and like had a big ass ceremony and everything lol (hue unsurprisingly has a p big family). the future right now is uncertain until hue can work through either accepting that he’s mortal and he’ll die and it’ll be over with or unless they find another solution.

49. Do they keep secrets from each other?

hue hasn’t told jihan about the mating for life predicament, nor his fears about him finding someone else after he dies and how it tears him apart.

jihan is pretty open about everything in his life but he’s not forthcoming if that makes sense. if someone doesn’t ask, he won’t really tell. but if you ask, depending on how close he is to you, he’ll open up. however, he’s never hidden anything from hue.

50. Would they ever break up? If so, why? Who would handle the breakup better?

well, they’re technically broken up divorced right now—instigated by hue lol. the tl;dr is that hue is starting to get older and he’s starting to get very conscious of his own mortality. even though werewolves/were-creatures do live longer than humans, they pale in comparison to other creatures like vampires. like jihan, who has already lived for 800 years or so. at most, hue will live to be about 200, and the idea of jihan living on after him is painful—hell, even the girls could live longer than him. legends say that powerful witches can learn spells to gain longer life and essie is already showing a lot of promise. so, in a backwards way to save himself the heartbreak he broke things off. the idea of jihan being with anyone else pains him but the idea of being so attached and knowing jihan will find someone else after he dies is even worse (or so he thinks). he knows to a certain extent he’s being selfish, and the feeling is made worse by jihan being still so sweet and loving towards him and the girls. so despite initiating it, hue’s taking it worse than jihan.

jihan is definitely hurt about the break up, made even worse by hue not giving him the Real reason why he broke it off so suddenly, yet, he knows and can tell that hue is hurting more than he is. it gives him solace to not give up on everything or to wallow. he just wishes hue would tell him what was wrong so he can try and help fix it. he wants their family back, him back. but he knows pushing won’t fix it so he’s trying to be patient.

#s: supernatural dads #this is so long lmaoooo #so no pressure

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forcebewitht · 4 years ago

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The Loving Curse Of A Wicked, Beautiful Queen Of Mean (Overblot!Vil Schoenheit X Reader)

(Fanart Link: https://twitter.com/mtzk00/status/1349799061218488322?s=19)

A sigh was all too quick to escape your lips as you observed the spectacle that was going on. You had been receiving bad vibes from Vil here and there for quite a bit now- and it was finally time. You just knew. Grim and yourself decided to hide behind a corner to spy on Vil. His body was honestly rather rigid...yet loose as he walked. Like a doll that had learned to walk and was preparing to swing out a long, thin arm at any moment. Vil delivered some swift knocks to Neige's door within the hallway of the backstage area of the arena currently being used for the VDC. You were quick to shush Grim and peer around the corner. Vil's expression was…void. Utterly barren of any and all emotion, as though the great star was finally beginning to dim out. Neige soon opened the door, and an exchange between the two was given. Vil had tried giving Neige some apple juice as a "gift"....that is, until Rook strided in on the scene. The sound of Rook calling Neige's name down the hall sent a shock through Grim, Vil, and even Neige himself. You noted that Vil's eyes grew a bit too large, a bead of sweat running down his forehead. "NEIGE!" Rook was quick to stride over. The gentle, sweet boy named Neige soon turned his head to Rook as he walked over. Rook smiled a bit at Neige as he approached, a faint dazzle being seen in his eyes simply by looking at the boy. "I am sorry to disturb you. One of the staff members is looking for you- they wished to ask you something about the performance. Roi Du Neige….-ah. I mean Neige." Neige peered curiously at Rook. He allowed his head to angle to the side, his skin as pale and precious as snow and his hair as black as the night sky itself. "Roi Du….the way you speak…..are you, perhaps…?" Rook suddenly was very quick to exclaim after Neige's odd observation. "A-AH! I apologize, I just simply am so thirsty after searching for you for such a long time! Ah…but that apple juice you are holding looks delicious. Care to help me out a bit and give it to me, Ro- ahem. Neige? Please?" Neige blinked numerous times, already handing the juice over as humbly asked. "Y-yes, of course! Not a problem at all! Here you go." You notice Vil's posture go even more rigid at the sight of this event. His eyes grew just a bit larger, and you could have sworn that you heard a suppressed grunt. Your eyebrows furrow. He…..he looked like a schemer who had just been caught...nay….a murderer who had just been caught in the act.

Rook beamed out a dazzling smile to Neige, now continuing on with the juice bottle in his gloved hands. "Ah….thank you, Neige. Now, run along to the stage. And….don't come back again." The sudden shift in Rook's tone took you a bit off guard, now watching him a bit more closely. Neige seemed just as confused, for he bats his eyelashes faintly, his already precious, large doe-like eyes widening just a bit. "...Eh? What do you m-mean by that…" After Neige's delayed question, Rook's body seemed to seize up. He suddenly shouted a bit right at the boy, and you could see his eyebrows furrowing under his bangs. "GO, NOW- HURRY UP!" Neige was quick to listen to the instructions and take off in a sudden sprint. Vil's eyes were locked on Neige as he ran away, now slowly fluttering over to Rook. His lavender eyes squint at his Vice Dorm Leader, the star seeming to back up a bit. "Rook….why…" The Vice, however, did not listen. He seemed to be sniffing the bottle's contents with a content smile, his emerald eyes shutting promptly. "Mmmmm~....what a fresh scent. I simply smelled this alluring beverage for a mere moment, and a delicious, prime, red apple just appeared within my very mind. This product from Epel's hometown is really wonderful!" Rook's eyes soon snapped open, the Vice locking eyes with Vil. He seemed to smile, but a dim in his eyes was evident as well. His tone suddenly became more dry yet heightened, as though a mere zombie under the whims and gaze of the Schoenheit male. "I'll drink all of this without sparing a single drop….Roi Du Poison…" Rook began to tilt the bottle up to his lips. Vil seemed to panic, his eyes widening even more as he rose a hand and backed up some more. You and Grim almost ran out, yet the voice of another stopped you both in your tracks- it was Kalim! "ROOOOOOOOOOOOOOK! STOOOOOOOOOPPPPPPP- NO!" The leader of the Scarabia Dorm suddenly dashed over to Rook with an intense speed. His hand flew out and was quick to smack the bottle out of Rook's hand entirely. The contents splashed onto the nearby wall. Rook backed up in shock, now locking his confused gaze onto Kalim. "Roi D'or?! What are you doing here?! Wait...Grim and [Y/n] are here, too!" You and Grim ran over and stopped before the small group. Grim was the first one to speak, his bright blue eyes widened. "Kalim, did you just smack that bottle that Rook was holding?! Why?!" You were quick to fold your arms over your chest and straighten, staring at Kalim's freakishly serious expression. "He would not have done so without a good reason." Kalim was currently out of breath, gasping for air. "Ah...haaaa…..I made it in time!" Vil's eyes widened evermore, now taking yet another step back. "What….are you….doing…?" Suddenly, an odd squelching sound was heard from the wall where the juice had shattered and splashed. The contents of the juice began to both darken and thicken considerably, the juice itself now a deep, sickly green shade. Your eyes widened as you almost immediately were able to lock onto what was going on thanks to your dreams- it was poison! Grim soon expressed his concerns with the juice's appearance while Kalim turned his head to Vil. Even still, the normally bright boy looked utterly serious. "...Vil. This is the juice that you put a curse on with your Unique Magic, right? I had a bad sensation that something was going to happen concerning you….when I saw your expression whilst watching Neige's rehearsal performance." Kalim's voice deepened a bit, now allowing his eyes to faintly squint at Vil from his current position. "....It is the same expression Jamil had on his face before he Overblotted during the holidays." You turn your head to look at Vil- and freeze. He had locked his gaze right back onto Kalim...there it was again. A bone-chilling, void, utterly vicious stare. His body seemed stiff as his arms rested at his sides. He didn't even look to be breathing, a shadow now being cast over his eyes. This soon changed slightly as he turned his head to Rook. "....Rook. Why did you want to drink the juice? You should know better than anyone….that you would not have remained alive if you drank it." You and Grim shared a worried look- so he was going to murder Neige! Rook blinked a few times at the question, soon giving his answer with the utmost confidence and grace. "I wanted to believe you. The star that has been shining and streaking so far across the sky to reach the top. I believed that you would never commit such a crime and hinder your precious beauty...but. At the same time, if your precious magic and hands had crafted such a wicked tool of vengeance to smite your opponent...I wished to taste it only once. The taste of your poisonous fruits of your obsession for beauty!" Vil backed up a bit more, the sweat running down his forehead once more. Kalim was quick to retort, now worried himself. "What are you talking about, Rook?! I will not let that happen! Hey, Vil! Do you understand how stupid your actions were?! Let's show the other team a performance that will make them feel like worthless potatoes in a sack...Didn't you say we have to win the contest with our show-stopping performance?! Why?! Why would you try to kill Neige just to succeed?!" Vil's expression had shifted back to the blank one as Kalim spoke. Suddenly, upon the last few lines, he began to chuckle. "Heh...heheh…I wish to know the answers myself. But...I have come to realize….THAT I WON'T BE ABLE TO WIN AGAINST HIM! That's w-why I...i wanted to end his life...by my own hands!" Vil's voice trembled and shook with raw power and rage as he boomed out his reply throughout the halls. You gasped as you felt a sudden, odd shift in the air. The poisonous juice upon the ground was beginning to shift into a deeply purple appearance, now. A smoke began to build up from it, already beginning to restrict the proper patterns of breathing from the members of your little team. Kalim began to cough, closing his eyes as Rook warned everyone not to inhale it. "[Y/n], Kalim, Grim! Do not inhale it! This is Vil's Unique Magic- Fairest One Of All! He can put a curse onto any object. That poisonous juice has now been transformed into this restricting mist! If we breathe in a certain amount, our bodies will become paralyzed within an instant! But….one bottle of this could not have turned into this mess….unless….no!" Vil began to back up even more. His eyes widened, tears pricking at his eyes. "D-don't look at me like t-that...STOP LOOKING AT ME LIKE THAT! Why….I wanted to become the most beautiful being in the world...but...why am I so...ugly...ugly….UGLY!"

Rook and Kalim began to jump to Vil's defense and say that he didn't kill anyone...but you could already feel the truth of what he was feeling. Vil had acted….like a villain. He was going to murder someone just like one. Your expression was quick to morph into one of raw pity, now watching Vil with a worried expression. He looked so panicked. Like a little boy who had lost his mother within a candy store, or a deer caught in headlights. The male's voice suddenly trembled at Kalim's declaration and boomed out again. "SHUT UP! WHAT DO YOU KNOW ABOUT ME?!" Your group began to panic, now watching the juice bubble and fizz into more mist. Vil let out a bone-chilling, deeply crazed laugh of triumph at the sheer fear. "AHAHAHAHAHHA! T-that's right! That's what I want! If everyone else around me becomes ugly….finally...finally….I CAN BECOME THE FAIREST ONE OF ALL!" The air around Vil began to shift. He beamed out a devilish smile. You stumbled backwards- and that was your mistake. Vil's head was quick to whip over to you and lock on. His eyes dazzled as he stared at you. Oh, [Y/n]. Sweet, sweet little [Y/n]. He had to admit, he actually had so deeply wished to allow you to be on his team and not be shunned to the sidelines with that pest of a monster. And yet, you counted as one student. Thus, if he let you in, Grim would have to come along with you. Oh, how he despised that little rule. Vil got a good look at you, his head tilting to the side. My, my...even with that fear, the darling had a certain grace about them that was almost too rich for Vil to ignore. His lips perked up into an even bigger grin. He began to stalk forward, you feeling your legs begin to shake from the sheer intensity of his stare. And just like that...the boy began to sing out a declaration of his own. "I'm so tired of pretending….where's my happy ending? I followed all the rules, I drew inside the lines...I never asked for anything that wasn't mine. I waited patiently for my time...but when it finally came….they called his name. And now, I feel this overwhelming pain! I mean, it's in my veins! I mean, it's in my brain! My thoughts are running in a circle like a toy train...I'm kind of like a perfect picture with a broken frame...and I know exactly who to blame." Vil began to stalk towards you, stepping over his own juice as Kalim and Rook began to cough even further. They began to attempt to fire spells at him to keep him back, but it was useless. He was utterly transfixed on you, now. "I never thought of myself as mean...I always thought I'd be like the Queen! And there's NO INBETWEEN! 'Cause if I can't have that? Then I shall be the leader of the dark and the bad….now there's a devil on my shoulder where the angels used to be….and they're calling me the Queen.." You began to backtrack a bit further. Vil was quick to suddenly grab you by the arm, now slowly dragging you towards him. You fought and struggled against his vice grip, your eyes wide in confusion and sheer panic. Grim got riled up and began firing more fire spells- but Vil's mist seemed to dissipate most of them. Vil smiled down at you with a bright grin that could make even the toughest of people's blood run cold. "Being nice was my pastime...but I've been hurt for the last time...and I won't ever let another person take advantage of me- the anger burns my skin, third degree. Now my blood's boiling hotter than a fiery sea! There's nobody getting close to me! They're gonna bow to their Evil Queen! Their nightmares are my dreams! Just wait until they fall to my wicked schemes~" Right as Vil had gone to caress your cheek, you were able to jerk yourself from his grip. You stumbled back into the wall, now slowly backing up with the still sputtering Kalim, Grim, and Rook. Vil just smiled even brighter. "I never thought of myself as mean...I always thought that I'd be the Queen! And there's NO INBETWEEN! 'Cause if I can't have that? I would be the leader of the dark and the bad. Now, there's a devil on my shoulder where the angels used to be...and he's calling me...the Queen of Mean….the Queen of Mean!" Vil's head suddenly snapped over to the shattered apple juice bottle, as though he heard a voice. He slowly bent down and picked up a shard that had an apple on the front of it with part of Epel's family name. "The Queen of Mean…." His head slowly craned up, that blank stare back once more. Then, his lavender gaze trailed back to you. He slowly began to stalk forward once more, his head tilting. "Something is pulling me….it's so magnetic. My body is moving...unsure of where I am headed...all of my senses have left me defenseless...this darkness around me is promising vengeance. The price that I'm willing to pay is expensive- there's nothing to lose when you're ugly and friendless. So...my only interest...is showing that 'princess'...THAT I AM THE QUEEN AND MY REIGN WILL BE ENDLESS!"

The mist whipped around your group and knocked Kalim, Rook, and Grim back into the nearby wall. The poisonous substance along with some ink whipped around Vil's form. You gasped, watching the transformation take place. Vil had now Overblotted. He beamed out an even larger smile than before, raising his hands which displayed long, flowing, dark pieces of fabric that attached to the rest of his form. His right eye erupted in a deep purple, fiery glow, a veil upon his head. He looked...wickedly beautiful. Vil's hands raised as his eyes widened, the sheer power that was now coming off of him in waves utterly taking your breath away. "I WANT WHAT I DESERVE! I WANT TO RULE THE WORLD! SIT BACK AND WATCH THEM LEARN! IT'S FINALLY MY TURN!" Suddenly, the whipping of a carpet's tassels in the wind combated with a shouting voice cut through the air- it was Jamil! "EVERYONE, QUICKLY, HOP ON!" Kalim's gaze lit up at his Vice Dorm Head, and he did not hesitate to get on. Rook followed, then Grim. Right when you were about to join- a hand with sharp, claw-like nails curled around your top and yanked you back a bit. Vil made extra careful care with you to ensure that you did not puncture yourself upon the oddly sharp, jagged knive-like belt around his waist. The others began to cry out to you, but you soon locked eyes with Jamil. The boy stiffened, taking heed in your current gaze...and he understood. He was quick to get the flying carpet out of there. You were far more cunning than you looked. You could handle this. Vil seemed to laugh in his triumph, now allowing his hands to trail down your waist and watch the group go... they could wait. "If they want a villain for a queen...I'm gonna be one like they've never seen. I'll SHOW THEM WHAT IT MEANS! HAHA! Now that I am that! I shall be the ruler of the dark and the bad…'cause the devil's on my shoulder where the angels used to be...and he's calling me~" Vil pulled you even closer to him, gently arching your back a bit so that you would not injure yourself upon the belt on his form. He began to trail kisses along your neck in a sickly sweet manner, taking his prize for his wickedness. He chuckled at the feeling of your soft skin against his lips, keeping the motions up. Soon, Vil gently pulled away and spun you around to face him. You felt as though you could shrink under that gaze. "The Queen of Mean….the Queen of Mean…..I WANT WHAT I DESERVE!" Vil's lips suddenly smashed upon your own as he yanked you closer to him. Right as he did so, a crackle of lightning seemed to rumble and shake the grounds of the very stadium, a sudden burst of that mist shooting out past the two of you. Your eyes widened as he kissed your lips, his lips irresistibly smooth, soft, and plump. And funny enough...his lips tasted like apples. Perhaps this was his own, personal poison...the loving curse of a wicked, beautiful queen of mean.

((Hello hello, my lovely Readers! The day has finally arrived, as this fanfiction has! Rook, Kalim, Neige, and Vil were honestly a welcome surprise to write for! I hope everyone enjoyed this, and I shall see you in the next one~ <3

#vil schoenheit #vil x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #disney twisted wonderland #twistedwonderland #twisted wonderland #twst vil #overblot vil #overblot vil x reader #twisted wonderland x reader

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armoricaroyalty · 3 years ago

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on notes

Every so often, I see people feeling discouraged because their posts don’t get much engagement by the way of likes, comments, and reblogs. A lot of people feel discouraged when they spend hours on a lookbook, story update, or render, only to see very little interaction from their followers. It can feel like you’re shouting into a void, especially when you see other people’s posts getting anywhere from 4-10 times as many notes as yours—do your posts suck? You’ve got people following you, why aren’t they engaging? Does everyone secretly hate you? What gives?

A lot of people have addressed this from a lot of different angles, but I wanted to share some excellent advice I received as a teenager, about ten years ago. I heard this from a seasoned poster, someone who’d been in the paint in online spaces since the webring days of fandom: only ten percent of readers engage.

The 90-9-1 rule

It’s called the 90-9-1 rule, it’s been observed anecdotally since the dawn of the internet and written about academically under that name since 2006, and it refers to the percentages of different archetypes of internet users. In short: if a website has 100 users, 90 will be lurkers, 9 will be ‘intermittent contributors,’ and just 1 will be an ‘heavy contributor.’

The 90 lurkers may or may not have an account. If they do, they only use their account to follow others, not to post their own content or engage with other users. On Tumblr, the lurkers don’t post, don’t like, don’t comment, and don’t reblog. Most lurkers only sign on occasionally, but others are very active. They might sign on every day and read everything that's posted, but they just don’t interact—it’s just not their mode of online engagement.

The nine 'intermittent contributors’ make more noise than the lurkers, but they’re still not particularly active. On Tumblr, they only post occasionally. They might like a lot of posts, but they never (or almost never) reblog, send asks, or comment. On AO3, they might have a few published fics, but their usual mode of engagement is bookmarking and kudos-ing, not commenting or writing. The nine casual posters might be too shy to engage, they might be too busy, or they just might not feel the need to chime in very often.

The last poster is a ‘heavy contributor.’ They sign on every day (or almost every day), and they read almost everything that’s posted. They make their own posts and they engage with other people’s content. On Tumblr, they like, reblog, send asks, and leave comments. On AO3, they post their fics and actively engage with other people’s. The active users are the likeliest to join Discord communities or send messages to other users. The internet is a social, creative place for them, and they love to engage with other people.

The 90-9-1 rule started out as a casual observation and has since been backed up by research. I still think it’s helpful to look at a case study to illustrate the way this ratio shows up when it comes to online content creators and their followings.

the dan fandom — the ‘dandom,’ if you will

One of my favorite YouTubers is Dan Olson, who posts video essays, media analysis, and cultural commentary on his channel Folding Ideas. I watch all of his videos, usually multiple times (I have ADHD, I love to put a video on as background noise while I work on unrelated stuff…I’m actually “watching” Buzzfeed Unsolved as I write this post). I think he’s insightful, intelligent, and interesting. In fact, I like him so much that I back him on Patreon.

As of today, Tuesday, January 26th 2022, the Folding Ideas channel has 561,000 subscribers. The Folding Ideas Patreon has 2,440 patrons. I took the screenshots for this post a few days ago, when the YouTube channel had 500,000 subscribers and the Patreon had 1,894 patrons.

2,440 patrons is less than half a percent of 561,000 subscribers (just 0.43%, to be precise). 1,894 patrons is an even smaller percentage of 500,000, around 0.40%, rounding up. I think it’s fair to assume that the 0.4-0.43% of Dan’s followers who decided to give him money are superfans, people like me who watch and enjoy all of his videos (no word on how many of them also have ADHD and rewatch all of his videos multiple times).

So. How many of these superfans watched his latest video when he shared it, early access, with his patrons the day before its public release?

A little more than half.

When I took this screenshot 14 hours after the video was first shared, the answer was 1,100. Of those 1,100 turbo-superfans who watched the video right after it was shared, only 191 gave the video a like, and only 40 left a comment. Even among a tiny group that’s already self-selected for liking Folding Ideas videos, about half watched the video right away. Of those who watched the video in the first 14 hours, less than 20% of the people who watched engaged with the video by liking it. And only 40 people, 3.6% of the superfans, commented.

‘but doctor, i am blogliacci’

Most of your followers aren’t going to comment or like your posts. It’s not a reflection of you or the quality of your posts. When you see people getting more notes than you, it’s safe to assume that number represents a tiny sliver of their overall follower count. 90% of their followers are as quiet as 90% of your followers. You’re not alienating people and nobody secretly hates your content. It’s not personal, and it has nothing to do with you—these trends are bigger than you and older than Tumblr.

Of course, this doesn’t mean that you’re wrong to feel disappointed or upset if you don’t get as many notes as you’d like. Even if you’re okay with the 90-9-1 ratio, you can still feel dissatisfied with your total number of followers. You can still wish more people were more engaged with what you’re doing.

There are a lot of things you can do to try to attract more followers, but not much you can do to radically alter that basic 90-9-1 ratio. For every ten new followers, you can generally expect one or two more notes per post.

If you want to grow your following on Tumblr, do some research into your fandom/artistic space and figure out how users with bigger followings tag their posts. Figure out what posts people use to search for content like yours. Tumblr only ‘reads’ the first few tags on any given post, so putting the most popular tags first increases the likelihood that your posts will show up in more searches for more people. Make sure that your tags (and your posts themselves) are free from spelling and grammatical errors. Participate in community events and challenges. Experiment with when and how often you post (including reblogs of your own content). Do your posts get more traction in the morning or the afternoon? Do people engage more with short daily posts or longer weekly posts?

Even if you’re doing everything “right,” even if you post regularly, even if you post high-quality stuff, even if you post during the optimal times, even if you follow the trends, you still might not see the kind of growth you’d like. The key factors in growing an audience are time and luck.

in conclusion

Time is easy. It just keeps going forward. The longer you maintain your blog, the better you’ll get at it. You’ll learn new ways to make better, more polished content. You’ll start building relationships with other users. More people will stumble across your blog randomly and give you a follow. The most popular blogs in a given niche are often the first in that niche.

Luck is impossible to predict and impossible to control. You can’t put a timeline on it and you can’t will it into existence. Big boosts in followers often come unexpectedly: someone with a bigger following reblogs a post or you get it in on a new trend early and your post goes viral (or whatever passes for viral in the ol’ Tumblr terrarium). It might happen tomorrow, it might happen never. You can’t control it, and you will exhaust yourself if you try.

Ultimately, the best thing you can do for your blog and your own mental health is learn to love wherever you are. That doesn’t mean giving up on your goals and ignoring notes and follower counts entirely, it means divorcing those metrics from your self worth and your enjoyment of your blog (obviously, easier said than done). Remember the 90-9-1 rule and have fun. Post for yourself and not your followers. With a bit of time and a bit of luck, everything else will fall into place.

#armorica tips #i've been thinking about this a lot!#i used to care SO MUCH about notes and felt like they reflected my worth as a creative #it took me a long time to deal with my insecurity about notes/comments/engagements #but it was so good for my mental health and learning about this kickstarted my process of getting there

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whimsywispsblog · 4 years ago

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A Lonely Night

A/N: Hello Wispies! Here's a little piece for our fishy friend, Salvatore Moreau. So, it's a little sad; it's mostly about what Moreau thinks of himself and the people around him. And how he craves for some human warmth and affection.

Trigger Warning: References to depression, vomiting

It was one of those rare nights where the dark inky skies blended with the brilliant twinkling of the little stars. Like tiny diamonds stuck in the coal-black voids of rocks, they sparkled with a certain entrancing touch to it, captivating its admirers in wonderment. There was always something magical about a starry night, or at least that what Moreau believed. He had rarely seen the clear skies of the Village- most days, it was always covered in thick dark clouds, gloomy clouds. But today, it was different- it was magical.

He sat just outside his home, a childlike innocent glint of astonishment in his eyes as he observed the skies, his mouth partly open in awe. A chilly breeze swept past him, and he shuddered slightly, pulling his coat a little tighter around him. It was nights like these that he appreciated the beauty and tranquillity of Mother Nature...And also wished to have someone to share this beauty with. A friend? A family? A companion? A dog? Anyone, just anyone to sit with him, maybe huddle a little and enjoy the little moment of this delightful serenity. 'Who would want a monster like me.' Moreau thought bitterly as he looked down at the rocky ground.

Yes. It's true; the Cadou did ruin everything for him. He turned into a grotesque piece of Miranda's 'Marvellous' creation. He wasn't even human anymore; he never felt human. He felt like...a freak. A bizarre-looking worthless moronic monster. Everyone avoided him, even the Lords. Most of them acted like he doesn't exist that he's just an invisible rock meant to be kicked around and forgotten. During the meetings and discussions, he was always shunned. He would always be forced to stay quiet and still. They hated him; they despised him. His very sight seemed to irk them all. Just because he's different. And ugly. Even Mother Miranda never wanted him around. 'Not even Mother.' his eyes start tearing up as he recalled how the Mother would show little acts of affection to her children, like stroking their head. But whenever he would go for some, she would give him an impassive expression, not willing to touch him or be touched by him. Or even be in his company. 'I am a mistake.'

Moreau felt uneasy in his stomach, like something rushing to come out, something trying to spill out of him. His hands instinctively reached for his stomach, squeezing it a little, and his eyes started pouring out tears. "Oh no!" He shouted, immediately vomiting all the acid out of him. He made a mess. He had bits of vomit on him as well. He was a mess. 'Nobody wants a mess.'

He sat back down, breathing in deeply as a lone teardrop ran down his cheek. "Everybody has someone," He slurred, moving his hands up and down like a whining infant. "M-Mother has her children. Lady Dem-Demistrec-cu has her d-daughters," His hiccups started swallowing more of his slurry words. "L-Lord H-Heisenb-berg h-has Lycan-ns a-and Lady Beneviento has A-Angie the D-Doll." Moreau felt more tears springing up as his vision got hazier. But crying would only trigger his vomiting reflexes, and he was tired. Too tired of vomiting. Too tired of loneliness. Too tired of himself. He just wanted to be happy. He wanted to mean something to someone, anyone. But then, who would ever want to be with a ghastly looking monster like him?

'What was my real Mother like? Did she love me? Did she hug me and kiss me?' Moreau shook his head sideways, dismissing his hopeful thoughts of lost affection from his biological Mother. 'No, I am a Monster, forever. No one wants me.' He looked down at a puddle of water in front of him. He could see a blurry reflection of himself as he stretched his body a little further, getting a better view of it. And all he saw was a deformed ugly thing. He stared at the reflection for a few more seconds before getting up. He tumbled down a few times as he tried to stand on his feet. 'I am weak too,' He looked up to the skies, watching a souffle of dark stormy clouds slowly setting in, a forecast for an incoming rainstorm.

"Goodbye, stars!" He mumbled with a naïve childish smile and a tiny wave towards the skies. It was a lonely night indeed.

#salvatore moreau #re8 village #resident evil 8 #resident evil village #resident evil

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arkitiore · 3 years ago

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stars+rk1k for the drabble post you reblogged? :)

"How many do you think there are?"

Connor inquired absently while kicking his feet back and forth where they hung over the low pier, keeping his shoeless feet pointed upwards so that only his heels skimmed the surface of the water. His gaze was flickering over the many pinpricks of light that littered the atmosphere above them and a contented expression was resting on his face.

Markus followed his eyes upwards as Connors short attention span was abruptly captured instead by the water below him. He frowned slightly at the question, mulling it over in his head as the RK800 bent over suddenly to pluck something from the lake with a splash. Markus turned back to the other and paused breifly with his answer hanging from his lips as Connor quickly stuck whatever he had just retrieved from the water - algae? hopefully - into his mouth before promptly spitting it out again with a grimace as his LED spun yellow.

Choosing to ignore that, as Markus did with many of Connors peculiarities, he allowed his response to escape.

"Well, astronomers estimate that there's around one hundred thousand million in our galaxy alone. Beyond that...I don't know. Its a number I can barely comprehend, and given what we are that's saying something."

An odd look crossed over Connors face as his attention snapped back to the other android, unblinking. Markus allowed his brow to crease a fraction in confusion as the RK800s led span a sluggish yellow, then turned to a rapid orange before settling on bright and solid red with a sharp intake of breath.

"Connor...?" He inquired as the other android stilled completely, now blinking rapidly at nothing.

"I- sorry." He eventually uttered with a shake of his head. "Sorry. I just...theres a 'beyond that'...shit"

His eyes drifted upwards again but the previous expression of contentment had been replaced with something akin to a terrified awe.

"There's a beyond that...."

As Markus took in the gleam that was beginning to form over Connors eyes it began to dawn on him what had just occurred.

"You've never looked up astronomy before in your database have you?" He asked gently to a shake of Connors head.

He allowed a soft smile to form on his face as he observed the existential crisis that was no doubt brewing beneath the RK800s plasteel chassis. Markus would forget often just how young the other android was until he was reminded of it in moments such as these. Contrary to what a human might think from the outside, androids were not all knowing creatures. Models such as themselves could only give the impression of being that. If someone was to reference a topic or fact that one of them was unfamiliar with then they had the capacity to research said topic, comprehend it and then respond without missing a beat - but they did still need to learn.

Sometimes it surprised Markus to find out what very basic facts of their existance that Connor had not yet gotten around to studying. Evidently the full scale of the night sky outwith their small planet was one of them.

"No...I haven't" the younger android muttered, drawing a fond huff if laughter from Markus.

"Yeah, It's a little frightening to think about the first time isn't it?"

Connor nodded with his gaze still affixed on the void.

"We barely understand even a fraction of what's out there...but I hadn't realised. I guess I had just assumed..." He trailed off, mouth hanging slightly ajar as he processed this new revelation.

Markus breathed in slightly, allowing himself to follow Connor down the rabbit hole of contemplating their place in the universe. Their significance, or insignificance. What it means to be alive in the universe, whether it means anything at all. He readied himself to share his musings on their fleeting presence in the vast stream of time and space when Connors mouth abruptly shut and his eyes snapped down towards the wooden planks of the pier while his arm shout out at an alarming speed to snatch up a large beetle and touch its shell to the tip of his tongue before Markus had any chance of stopping him.

His LED finally shifted from red as it span an excited yellow before settling on blue, having apparently found the beetle to be...analytically pleasing? Markus wasn't sure.

"Perhaps..." Markus began, changing course form his previous thought as Connor set the animal back down with a smile to watch it trundle off in the direction it had been headed in before.

"Perhaps we don't have to understand something completely to find it beautiful"

Connor met his eyes with a soft expression of comprehension before leaning his head down on the others shoulder and sighing into the embrace that he was promptly wrapped up in.

"Dont worry Markus, you'll figure me out. Eventually"

The shoulder under Connors ear shook with quiet laughter.

"You know what? I hope I never do."

Thank you for the ask and sorry it took so long to get to!!

#am i writing this on mobile from the end of a pier at a lake...maybe #definitely #thank you for this prompt it was very sweet!!!#rk1k #dbh #rk1000 #detroit become human #my writing #long post #sorry but i cant do a read more from mobile #updating tags to say i just found out i got sunburtTOFUCK while writing this oop

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alluringjae · 4 years ago

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[ 23:45 ] ⮕ END

part of my collection of cookie cuts from all i do is wait

in order to understand, read the main story first here.

pairing: ghost!doyoung x female!reader

genre: angst, sum fluff if you really squint

warnings: death, grief

author’s note: someone asked me how i would interpret this scene, so here it is. this hurt A LOT. have fun though!

leave me some feedback, constructive criticism or hellos!

Mid-1953

At long last, the Korean War has ended after 3 years.

Over 5 million people dead, and to be one of the lucky survivors was a miracle.

The remaining soldiers who’ve fought through it all could return home, whilst civilians can properly rebuild all that was devastatingly destroyed in their cities. Their own normal lives included.

The fiercest 3 years of your life must you say, too engaged with self-studying your history books saved pre-war while dealing with the bargaining stage of your grief towards Doyoung. Every day, you couldn’t go on without overthinking the what-ifs. On top of that, your toddler Areum was at the stage where she loved creating a mess on the walls with her crayons. No matter how many times you’ve corrected her because it wasn’t your house, she continued anyway.

Now, she’s full-blown crying after you confiscated them and you’re on the verge of it. Thankfully, your mother stepped in to take her out for a walk in the neighborhood so you could unwind for a bit.

Since news broke out that the war ended, everyone from every street cheered and danced on the streets. You hailed with praise along with them, positive that things were going to get better. Yet deep down, you’ve selfishly wished that he was one of the lucky few to come home.

If only you didn’t chicken out so easily after he told you he was enlisting so you had a few more seconds with him.

If only you compromised him to join another field.

If only you told him about Areum earlier so he could go home.

These thoughts revolved your mind the most, instantly getting you to break down wherever you were. Even photos of him and you together were enough to tear down your walls. So, they remained hidden until the day you’re in a much better state of mind.

Dear god, you longed for him. Everything that consists of him.

In hopes to forget this tremendous loss in your life, you poured hot tea in a cup and started on this new book from this ongoing series, The Chronicles of Narnia. Getting it during this harsh period was tough, bartering it with old books you’ve owned in the market.

Fully preoccupied in the fantastical universe, flipping the pages quickly, you almost missed the continuous knocking on your door. You let out a tiny gasp and made your way to the entrance. As delusional to think it was Doyoung, you knew it wasn’t your mother and Areum either because they would’ve simply walked in. Opening it anyways, you were met by two young tall men. One had a bandage on his cheek while the other had a cast on his right arm. Noting their growing hair, they must’ve fought in the war.

Oh, if Doyoung was one of them.

“Hello, may I know who you two are?”

The one with the bandage spoke up, bowing first. “Hello, I am Lee Taeyong and this is my friend, Kim Jungwoo. We were good friends of your late lover, Kim Doyoung.”

Late lover.

Haven’t heard that since people in the neighborhood gossiped about your taboo pregnancy, but it’s not like they knew anyways. But from the letters exchanged with Doyoung before, he talked about these two highly. Whenever there were times of ease while serving, Doyoung was always up to mischievous things with these two. In a situation where they had to man up, they brought out his inner child.

“Oh, yes! Doyoung used to talk about you two in his letters, but I had no clue how you guys looked.”

By instinct, you invited them inside for tea by the patio. You’ve always wanted to meet them despite the circumstances. Bringing in a tray with a teapot and treats, mostly you were inquiring about their lives. Aside from knowing their positions in the team, you learned of their new plans moving forward.

“I want to return to university to finish my studies in mechanical engineering, maybe travel the world too.” Jungwoo stated, blowing on his cup before sipping it. He’s said to be an organized man according to Doyoung, always cautious of his surroundings. It balanced out his liveliness.

“Me too! I want to complete my major in finance, then marry my childhood sweetheart after a few years.” Taeyong expounded, his round eyes glowed in wonder. He must’ve been looking forward to this day, and you were content for him. Meanwhile, it processed to Taeyong what he said, realizing that it may have been insensitive.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” He burst out instantly. “I got stuck in my feelings there.”

“It’s okay, nothing to worry about. You shouldn’t apologize for how you feel.”

“I do think we should feel worried about you though.” Jungwoo interrupted, sighing heavily. “What happened with Doyoung-hyung all those years ago, we’re really concerned for you especially.”

At the mention of the painful memory, this wasn’t the right time to crumble. You weren’t capable to show your vulnerability to anyone but yourself. Plastering a wrenching pretend smile, “I appreciate the concern, truly. But I’ll be okay again. I’m planning to return to university too, then proceed to law school. A shared dream of mine and his.”

Taeyong and Jungwoo transparently viewed you like glass, coping with the grief of it. They were on the same page as you, and unaware to you, they knew his final words. With their interpretation, it only felt right to reach out to you. Befriend you, aid you in any possible way.

At the end of the day, three of you equally shared the suffering over the death of a loved one.

Sitting in peaceful silence, the front door creaked open followed by a tiny, high-pitched voice squealing.

“We’re home!” Your mother shouted.

“I’m at the patio, we have guests over!” You replied, pouring more tea for the two quiet boys.

From such a low-spirited atmosphere only did it liven up when an energetic Areum came into your setting. She had pigtails this time, satisfying herself with fresh bungeo-ppang from the neighborhood. No matter what you’re feeling, it took a single glance of her with her small moon-like eyes to recharge you.

“Mom, who are your friends here?” She pondered cluelessly.

The two boys exchanged looks at each other first, then to you in one breath. Their expressions of perplexity by how one’s hand was on their mouth and the other boy couldn’t stop staring at Areum, you identified exactly what they were thinking of.

“Areum, these are your dad’s friends in the army.” You animatedly confirmed. “The one with that tiny bandage on his face is uncle Taeyong, and the one with the white cast is uncle Jungwoo.”

Doyoung’s death was already so heavy to take in, but upon discovering this hidden surprise, Jungwoo wiped his tears on his sleeve. But you were fast to hand him some tissue. He was younger than you, so your older sister instincts kicked in.

“This is unjust, (Y/N).” He murmured across you so Areum won’t pick up his words. Your lips pressed against each other, maintaining a straight face at him. He was right.

With Taeyong, his arms spread out wide for the small girl who willingly walked to him. He loved children, having a nephew back home. He caressed her smooth hair down to her jaw. The first thing he distinguished was her pretty eyes followed by her squishy cheeks, resembling so much of his late friend.

“You’re so pretty, Areum. Did your mom tell you that you mirror so much of your dad?”

“Yes, she does! But I’ve never met him and I don’t when I will, uncle Taeyong.”

A tragedy how the splitting image of his best friend doesn’t see what everyone sees. But again, she’s only 3 and she can only process so much. She doesn’t know the real truth behind her father’s location, except that he was working far, far away. There are days she’d ask if he’d come back soon, yet your only response is not now. This isn’t the right time for her purity about life to stain.

“Well Areum,” Jungwoo gathered his senses again, crouching down to her level. “As his friends, we know that you look just like him! Prettier even.”

“Really? Tell me more about him, uncle Jungwoo!”

It’s about time someone else shared stories about your late lover because yours was short-lived. It’s even more intriguing to listen to what other people have to say about Doyoung that weren’t his parents. Some stories told by Taeyong and Jungwoo were new to you too, giggling along to their ridiculousness when they’re not training or fighting. Loving their presence, you invited them to stay for dinner with your family, which they couldn’t reject.

What started as a tense conversation transformed into a heartwarming experience. These two boys earned a spot in your life, aspiring for longtime friendships with them. The tender way they cherished for Areum like they’re own after meeting for the first time, it’ll fill in bits of her void. In exchange, they insisted to chip in for you and her lives so it wouldn’t be just you and your family. Struggling already with the consequences of the war, it only felt proper to do so.

“Doyoung has always been there for us, now let us return the favor and be there for you and Areum.”

Your protests were deemed useless, so you allowed them to do so. Once you finished law school and take the exams, you could pay them back. It’s phenomenal how Doyoung’s good influence towards others multiplied even after his passing. Maybe if you began to view things this way, you’d recover sooner. Although he’ll always be in your thoughts, it wouldn’t be as sensitive as it is now.

For now, you’re just going to enjoy the bliss Taeyong and Jungwoo brought, retelling old tales of a drunk Doyoung on the dining table.

From behind your garden fence in secret, Doyoung secretly observed as his treasured companions interacted at last with positivity. His only daughter mirroring his adored smile, he lived in that moment vicariously through her.

What a good time to visit today, truly.

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keepthyfaithandthylight · 3 years ago

Text

Reincarnation au

It will be quite long, and this is only part one. For @fructidor hope you like it so far, if not that’s completely ok.

Monday, August 14th, 5:15 a.m. Would that cursed alarm clock just shut up already?

Slowly, Max rubbed the sleep from his bleary eyes and forced himself to his feet, immediately being met with the frigid floor. Why can’t we simply have carpet, it’s so much more warm to wake up to..

He fumbled around for a moment in search of his glasses, before blinking his eyes into focus once he had found them and put them on.

“Wonderful, now I won’t go out with my shirt on backwards.” He commented to himself, before rummaging through his closet.

“Max, hurry up! I don’t want to be late for my first day of school!” Shouted Augustin from down the hall.

“You say that each year, but within a week I’m dragging you out of bed by your ankles!” Retorted the elder, sliding the sweater over his head.

Ironically enough, once Max had finished getting ready, his brother was still standing in the bathroom in his pajamas, brushing his teeth.

“Really..” began the elder, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall.

“What?” Asked Augustin with a mouthful of toothpaste, seeming offended.

“And here I thought you didn’t want to be late.” Max watched as his brother rolled his eyes before retreating to his room. Walking downstairs, his first instinct was to make a beeline for the coffee machine. He could tell already he was going to need the caffeine to get through the day. “Are you finally ready..?” He asked, upon hearing his brother descend the stairs.

“Whatever.” Came the response, the footsteps already walking to the door. Slowly, Max followed, standing to his feet while still holding his cup of coffee in one hand, keys in the other. Augustin had already marched himself out the door, and was waiting rather impatiently by the car, a look of annoyance across his face. Once he saw Max unlock the car, he practically threw the door open and fell in, ignoring as his brother sighed tiredly before he himself got in.

“Could you please try not to rip the car door off every morning..?” He asked quietly, before starting the car. “Why are you so mad, anyway?”

“Because every single year now you leave and I’m stuck at home with our sister.” Answered Augustin, crossing his arms over his chest and turning to look out the window. Max sighed once more, driving down the road.

“I’ll be back for the holidays. I always am, aren’t I?” He asked, only being answered by silence. Once they reached a red light, he took a sip of his coffee, trying to remove the exhaustion which weighed his very bones.

***

“I’ll see you in a few months, do try to stay out of trouble while I’m away!” Max called from the window, watching as his brother walked down the sidewalk. With one last heavy breath and swig of coffee, he prepared himself for his slightly longer drive ahead. Sometimes he wondered why he ever came home for the summer, but he would always have to remind himself that in most cases he was the glue holding their entire family together. Charlotte was working two, sometimes three jobs to support both herself and Augustin, who was trying to finish up school and getting into a bit of trouble. Max was in a bit of a similar situation, though he was simply trying to get his degree. This would be his last year before he finally graduated.

The sun rose in the sky as he drove along the highway, music playing softly in the background. Every once in a while he would take a sip of coffee to ward off the sleep which seemed to tug at him mercilessly. At long last, the campus came into view with its imposing architecture, it looked more like a cluster of medieval cathedrals than a college campus. He parked his car and watched as the students crowded in the school yard, signing up for clubs and some trying to figure out where they were even supposed to go. With one last swig of coffee, he got out and grabbed his things before making his way to his most familiar place. The dorms.

He had shared a dorm with his closest friend Camille since his first year there, they had known each other prior to going to college and Max had felt more comfortable sharing a room with someone he knew well. To his utmost dismay, however, Camille had switched schools over the summer. To be closer to his fiancé, he had said. Max understood, of course, but he was nervous now. Alone in a sea of other young adults, none of which he knew well, he was quite honestly terrified. He downed another swig of coffee before marching up the stairs, wandering down the hall before at last standing before his old familiar door.

Well, I do have to unpack. Again.

With a heavy sigh, he pushed the door open. Some of his more permanent decorations remained, such as pictures he had hung on the wall, and lamps, things of the likes, but Camille’s side was sterile and empty. Bland. Void of any character. With another, almost unneeded sigh, he walked over to his bed and slowly shrugged off his bags full of clothes, placing his laptop bag on his bed. He could not afford for his laptop to break again. Wiping his eyes, he stood in silence for a moment. He would miss the familiarity of his friend, after all they had bonded almost instantly upon first meeting, almost as if they had known each other long, long ago. He shrugged off the thought just as he had his bags, before leaning down and grabbing one of the aforementioned parcels and unpacking. Darting back and forth from bag to drawer, he eventually had his clothes set up for what would be the coming months until once more he returned home for a few weeks.

How lonely it felt in that small dorm room. How lonely indeed.

The silence seemed to eat away at him as he laid on his old bed, staring at the wall.

I will be alright, he and I will keep in touch. After all, it isn’t like he left for no reason at all-

Then, the door opened as someone else tumbled in, though he wasn’t sure if it was a mountain of bags suddenly animated or someone who just decided to pack way too much stuff.

“Um-“ Began Max, with hesitance and anxiety, and the other person looked up.

“And to think I thought that I was early..” they said to themselves, dragging the bags through the door.

“That’s um.. quite a bit of stuff you have there. Are you moving in or something?” Max joked, watching as one bag got stuck in the door, his new roommate tugging at it with what appeared to be a majority of his body weight.

“More or less- oof-“ Max raised an eyebrow as the bag finally broke free, sending its opponent stumbling back a few steps.

“You certainly travel light, don’t you.” He chuckled, crossing his arms over his chest. Hopefully this person had a sense of humor.

“Well, considering the fact that I have been living out of my car for the past few months, and obviously I can’t leave my stuff in my car..” they began, before dragging their bags over to what was now their side of the room.

“Living out of your car..?!” Max practically exclaimed, in surprise, eyes wide as he leaned forward.

“Yeah. Complicated situation, don’t want to talk about it.” Answered the other, and Max took a moment to observe them. They were quite tall, though everyone was tall compared to Max, who stood at approximately 5’3”, had long brown hair, and that was about all that Max could tell from what he had seen so far, aside from them fighting with their bags. He watched as they dumped their stuff onto what was now their bed, before taking what was his last swig of coffee. He frowned at the cup in his hand, before setting it aside on his table. “Do you happen to have any tape?” His new roommate suddenly asked, as they stretched a poster up on the wall.

“Oh- uh.. I think I do, give me one second..” Max replied, before sliding off of his bed and rummaging around in his desk, pulling out a roll of scotch tape. “I do, here.” He handed the plastic tape container to the other, who quickly took it.

“Thanks.”

Max wasn’t really sure he liked the tension that suddenly filled his dorm. It was not something he was accustomed to, at least when Camille had been there. He was brought from his thoughts once more as the sound of books falling on top of one another filled the air.

“That’s.. a lot of books-“ he commented, nervously.

“Well, like I said. I can’t keep my belongings in my car.” Responded the other, coldly. Max nodded hesitantly, before deciding in his mind to simply mind his own business and go back to staring at the wall, missing his former roommate. After what Max assumed had been an hour, the sound of bags being dumped finally stopped, and he noticed the bags had simply been pushed beneath the bed. One wasn’t even entirely empty. Max decided to try to clear the tension a little.

“I’m Maximilien, but most everyone calls me Max.” He began, cautiously, and for the first time the entire morning his roommate looked at him.

“Like Maximilien Robespierre?” They asked, and Max chuckled.

“I suppose you could put it that way.” He answered, slightly amused. He could not help but smile, he had never been compared to someone like that before.

“Cool, I’m Antoine.”

At least I have a name for him now?

“That’s.. actually a really neat name, I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone named ‘Antoine’ before.” Max said, absentmindedly, staring at the ceiling.

“Yeah, at least I didn’t have to worry about sharing a name with anyone way back in elementary and middle school.” Replied the other with a shrug.

“I certainly dealt with plenty of that.” Max chuckled, lightly, with a nod. “So.. what are you majoring in?” He asked, sitting up attentively.

“Music, mostly.” Antoine replied with a shrug once more, staring at his hands. “Nothing really uncommon or interesting.”

“Well, I’m sure there’s at least some interesting classes?” Max insisted, earning yet another shrug.

“I suppose. Art history seems like it would be pretty interesting.” His face lit up as the other said that.

“Oh it is.” Max grinned, and Antoine raised an eyebrow at him in doubt.

“You seem.. overjoyed at the fact that that’s on my schedule-“ he commented, and Max chuckled once more, this time with more mischief.

“I am, it’s one of my favorite classes. When do you have it?” The latter asked with a warm smile, and Antoine looked up in thought.

“Um.. tomorrow at 8 am, I think?” He answered, looking over at Max.

“Ironically enough I have it at the same time.” Max smiled, and Antoine nodded slowly, his brown hair falling in front of his face for a moment.

“Well there’s one thing we have in common so far.” He replied, and Max could only smile wider. The more time went on, the air became more comfortable, much like it had with Camille. Some strange feeling of familiarity, Max couldn’t quite place what it was, but he was certainly not complaining, it had been a while since he had been able to sit in comfortable silence with another person, or have a warm conversation. It was something he missed, and he was glad to have it once more, even if only for a little while.

#we see my writing progressively get worse as this goes on #never in my life did I imagine I would be writing fanfic for lack of a better term on tumblr #at least it’s on theme (?)#frev #frev but make it a poorly written reincarnation au.

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kyber-crystal · 4 years ago

Text

➳ good enough || s.r.

summary: after a long week you’re left completely exhausted. steve comforts you and helps you unwind.

words: ~1.6k

warnings: slight mentions of violence, angst, angst-to-fluff, a lil friends-to-lovers (i’m SORRY literally all of my oneshots are some variation of this but i just can’t resist), minor age gap? (if you call 5 years a lot). also civil war happened but they resolved it so 2017 au teeheeeeee

a/n: this sucked omg. why is my writing going downhill. also this is a red-room-turned-agent-reader who helped steve adjust when he came out of the ice bc i love cliche love backstories hehe...i tried to be very descriptive here but that failed oops. this is prolly one of my worst fics ever (it’s unedited) but my other one got deleted so i’m uploading this in its place!

Steve knew something was wrong the minute you came back from your mission. You always acted a bit off the first few days following your return, but for some reason, today seemed different. For the past week you'd been blatantly avoiding his gaze, refusing to meet his eye unless forced to.

You don’t even return Sam and Bucky’s sarcastic one-liners - and you always make sure to send a cheesy joke right back at them. It’s not typical for you to be so quiet and reserved like this; frankly, it scared him.

He knows that as a former Red Room assassin, you never had it easy. As the youngest of the twenty-eight dancer-disguised warriors, you were merely eight years old when you were admitted (Natasha was thirteen). At eight, there was much you didn’t know. You were naive, easily shaped to conform to the strict rules they’d set out for you.

But despite all the hell you’d gone through in the past, you managed to find it in your heart to forgive and create a compassionate nature towards others. Especially him. He always wondered what he deserved to get someone like you-- he felt more than lucky to have you in his life.

It was 4 a.m, and his insomnia was at its worst. It had peaked ever since he’d come out of the ice - he was 27, had so much of his life before him before it was abruptly put to a stop. But then he met you, with your warm eyes and kind smile that was such a sharp contrast to the girl you used to be.

The sound of muffled shouts coming from across the compound makes him look up - he sets down his mug of coffee and immediately heads down the hall to see what’s going on.

Steve carefully pushed open the glass doors to the training facility, seeing you standing in front of a punching bag and attacking the hell out of it with an almost murderous look in your eyes - one he’d never seen before. The tape around your knuckles were splattered with your crimson blood. Despite the dim lighting, he could see the outlines of fresh bruises all over your arms and shoulders. The sight made bile rise up in his throat. He felt his heart break.

Every heavy blow of your fists was accompanied by a ground-shaking boom that echoed across the gym, unleashing the monster trapped inside. You pick up the pace and increase your speed, channelling all your pent-up anger and frustration and guilt into what you were doing.

It hurts. You would give anything to get rid of the pain. It hurts like hell, but you would trade living a regret-ridden life for a guilt-free one in a heartbeat if that’s what it takes. Besides, you’ve experienced far worse before-- six-inch knife wounds, bullets to the abdomen and upper arms, broken ribs and noses. This should be a walk in the park.

The concerned super-soldier stood several feet away and observed you, silently watching you murdering the poor punching bag that’s barely withholding all the fury you’ve poured into pummeling it; it was about to burst at the seams.

“Y/N.” You didn’t hear him and kept going, so he repeated himself again. “Y/N.”

“What?” you snapped, keeping your gaze trained in front of you. “What the hell do you want?”

“Shouldn’t you be in bed? It’s late. What’s keeping you up at this hour?”

“Nothing,” you replied plainly, but he caught the brief flash of a grief-stricken look cross over your expression and your eyes glaze over, “I’m fine. Leave me alone.”

“You clearly aren’t. Y/N, talk to me. Please.”

“I told you, I’m,” you increased the force of your fists with each word you spoke, as you felt your eyes stinging, “just, fine!”

“Y/N...” he whispered, so softly, as if he was afraid he’d break you with a single sentence.

That was the last straw. The tears spilled over. Your vision began to blur as you didn’t even bother to wipe them away. The broad-shouldered super-soldier, your fists, and the punching bag and everything insight are turned into blurry, shapeless blobs. You try blinking them away but it was no use; but you keep going.

“Please tell me what’s going on. Tell me what’s wrong...please don’t shut me out. I only want to help.”

“Leave me alone,” you repeated with a growl, arms now aching with the pain of a thousand tiny needles. But he doesn’t, and he stays firmly rooted in his place. You hastily wiped at your nose with your hands. “For gods’ sake, Rogers, leave,” smack “me,” smack “alone.”

Your last punch was so hard the walls shook and caused Steve to take a step back in alarm. But after that, all the fight is gone from you. Your knees buckle from underneath you and your shoulders slump in defeat and you crumble to the floor. A sound so raw and hoarse escapes your lips and it sounds nothing near human.

The metallic scent of blood mixed with your salty tears and sweat overwhelms your senses and makes your head spin. Suddenly the act of taking in a single breath seems impossible and your chest tightens, preventing you from being able to breathe properly.

The ever-so-fragile wall that had been struggling to hold your tears at bay finally broke.

Heaving, wrenching sobs clawed their way up your throat and tore through your already weary heart - escaping in broken, agonized cries and heart-wrenching howls that make Steve feel like his heart is deliberately shattering into a million, tiny fragments of glass. He doesn’t know what to do because for the first time in his life, the woman he’s always seen with her head held high and an unmatched confidence that could almost put the President to shame was vulnerable, letting it all out at once.

Steve doesn’t ask any questions nor does he push to to speak up, but silently comes over to you and wraps you into a tight hug, cradling you against his chest. Your arms find their way around his torso, pressing your forehead against the soft cotton of his T-shirt as his free hand makes a gentle trek up and down your back.

As if you were a delicate flower, he carefully brought your head closer and pressed a kiss to your temple, letting his lips linger for a second longer than normal to reassure you. To reassure you that everything would in fact, be okay. Because he was there.

“Don’t leave me...please don’t leave me,” you choked out as he tightened his hold on you. “Please don’t leave.”

“I won’t, darling, I promise,” he cooed, lips brushing against your forehead, “it’s okay. I’m here. You’re okay, we’re okay. Everything’s gonna be just fine.”

Then, the suffocating pressure is eased off your chest, little by little. You began sinking into the comfort of his warm arms and soothing words. And with his reminder that you didn’t have to go through hell and back alone, because he’d be there, you began to heal.

...

ONE YEAR LATER

“...Joining the Avengers has been one hell of a ride. I went through hell and back, had my fair share of ups and downs and fought in countless wars. But along the way I’ve been blessed with the privilege of getting a built-in second family and making some of the best friends I’ve had in my life. I met my soulmate.” Steve gazed down at you warmly as you spoke, “I honestly had no idea things would ever work out like this but now, I can’t imagine a life without knowing who all these amazing people are.

“It’s been 15 months since the day he saved me.” Everyone immediately fell silent. "I had hit a very, very low point in my life and I was just about ready to give up. It was like I was screaming into a void and nobody was there to catch me when I fell. I felt so helpless and lost. Stuck. If Steve hadn’t come along at the time he did...I don’t know what would’ve have happened instead. So, Steve...I want to thank you...for everything. I can’t even begin to list all the things you’ve sacrificed or done for my sake and I owe you. From this point forward I promise to always stick by your side no matter how rough things get. I promise to love you at your best and your worst; whenever you need me I’ll always be here. No amount of anything I do will ever match what you’ve done, but I can promise you this: I’ll love you until the day I die, ‘til death do us part.

“’Till death do us part,” Steve repeated, smiling through the tears in his eyes. “God, I love you.”

You broke into a gorgeous grin that had him weak at the knees. “I love you too.”

“The rings, please,” Fury nodded over in Peter’s direction, and the teenager handed them over to the two of you. “Agent Y/N Y/L/N, do you take Captain Steven Grant Rogers to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

“I do,” you said softly, as you put on Steve’s ring.

He turned to the super-soldier. “And Captain Steven Grant Rogers, do you take Agent Y/N Y/L/N to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

Steve took your hand in his and slid the diamond ring over your finger, “I do.”

“Very well, then,” Fury smiled widely, a rare sight. “You may now kiss your bride.”

Without a moment’s hesitation, Steve rushed forward and pulled you close, dipping you down low before bringing you back up and kissing you passionately.

His warm lips serving as a reminder of all that you still had left to live for, that you had so much of your life ahead of you. A life with him.

...

general tags(this is from my old taglist spreadsheet, including mutuals who might be interested): @rynhaswritersblock @purpleskiesstorm @pies-writes-and-more @wxstedhexrt @captainchrisstan @sandystoriess @naomiiiiiiiiiii04 @patzammit @capcapcapsicle @wheresmyjae @thinkingofbuckybarnes @carryonmywaywardbucky @musicalkeys @buckybarnesthehotshot @tombob2005 @zaddychris @optimistic-dinosaur-nacho @sylvie-writes @sis-it-dont-add-up @tonystankschild @sunstalgia

steve rogers/chris evans tags: @speechlessxx @angrybirdcr @stainedsouvenir @marvelfanatic16

permanent tags<3: @poesflygirl @sandwitch-god

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scarlets-maximoff · 4 years ago

Text

of falling stars and crescent moons

a wandagatha oneshot (also on ao3)

pairing: agatha harkness/wanda maximoff

au - gods and goddesses

word count: 3472

In the beginning, there was nothing.

Nothing, however, was already something and, when the Elder Gods looked upon the blank canvas that one day would become the universe, they saw it was good. Life could be nurtured here, they would say. Their children would gasp excitedly, Papa, papa! Will you make me a star too? Ah, she already was. His little star.

Soon, my child, He would answer softly, bouncing his daughter on his knee.

And then, in the blink of an eye and a whispered command-

Nothing became everything.

An explosion. The Big Bang, some of the Elder Gods liked to call it.

Light flashed in unimaginable directions. Colorful waves of matter spread across space with unrestricted power and every once in a while the Gods would hear their rumble reverberating as thunders in the sky. All that was necessary for life to flourish was already coming together.

Nebulas and constellations now decorated the universe like splashes of paint on a black canvas. Stars colliding and galaxies being formed. Upon seeing part of their hearts and souls coloring their creation, the Gods rejoiced. Their creation was good.

But something was missing.

The universe couldn't be left barren. It was not made for that. What was the point of it all if not for life to be created and appreciated? To be lived? They needed a place where life could bloom and grow in all its glory. From birth till death. Where all creatures could exist.

So, hand in hand with one another, the Gods closed their eyes and imagined their second creation: the Earth. A small blue planet, born from the fire and blossoming under divine light. But darkness still lingered there, hiding just beneath the myriad of clouds and thunder. No living beings could settle in such an inhospitable environment.

He looked down on his child clinging to his legs. His beautiful Wanda. Running his fingers through her hair, he knew a decision had to be made.

"My darling, Papa needs to tell you something." His voice was deep but soothing and it reached the little girl's ears as if it were a breeze. She glanced up at him with curiosity gleaming in her eyes.

"Yes, Papa?"

"You're my light, Wanda. You always have been and always will be. But this world needs you to shine on them. To guide them when darkness looms over their heads." Tears threatened to fall but He stood strong. A little hand grasped his in a surprisingly firm hold.

He pulled her up in his arms with a choked sob.

"You need to be their sun, little one." The girl tried to wiggle out of his embrace such was the excitement she felt. "I'll make you a star. Their star."

A tear fell.

Twinkle, little star.

The Sun was created.

—

Wanda sighed dejectedly.

Being the sun goddess was total, utter boredom. She had to wake up early every day to shine on those hideous living beings down on Earth—just a bunch of microbes, for dad's sake— and when nighttime came, there was no one to talk to! Not even a falling star! Asteroids were rude so she didn't even bother with them. It was lonely.

She knew her dad had been right. She knew how important her mission was and how essential for life to exist it was. In spite of all that… Wanda felt unbearably alone. Don't get her wrong, solitude was becoming to her. Even though she was an actual goddess, she only felt like one when she gazed down upon her kingdom. Her planet. And yet-

There was no one by her side. No one to share the sky with her. The days were bright and beautiful; the nights, dark and rueful. And it's been like that for the past 4 billion years. Wanda's lips trembled at the sudden realization.

4 billion years on her own. What kind of existence is that?

When the first tear fell, others soon followed. The night was silent if not for the sorrowful cries of the Sun. Up there, in the starry sky, the morning star wept. For her loneliness. For her family that wasn't there. For her heart, which thundered inside of her just like the rain that fell down on Earth. That night, Wanda prayed.

Her dad didn't talk to her much anymore. Until that moment, she hadn't tried to reach out either. There were no hard feelings between them—'Tis the right thing to do, my daughter— but after years of isolation, they grew apart. Or maybe, she just drifted away from him. A lost star in the endless void of the universe. How fitting.

Still, she prayed. A desperate plea from a chilling heart.

"Father-" Her fiery red hair fell like a curtain around her face. Shoulders heaving with each sob. "Please. Please, leave me alone no more, for I cannot bear it any longer. You said I would shine and bring light to this world. What world, Father?" Between sobs, Wanda screamed at the sky above. Each tear sizzled as they touched her skin. "How can I shine so brightly if there's no one to see me, dad? N-no one to share my light with?" Wanda, the morning star. Lost star. Dimming star.

Twilight in the sky.

From above, her creator observed the scene regretfully. How much He ached to be with her. To hold his daughter again. In an attempt to right what was wrong—Listen to my prayers, Father!— He waved his hand in a difficult motion, eyes swimming in tears that had yet to fall. As you wish, darling one.

"Let there be the Moon."

—

Bleary-eyed, the Moon rises.

What is she doing up there in the sky? It's quiet but eerily so. No star is close enough for her to speak with, only capable of seeing their light from afar. Glancing down, she notices her hands. They are pretty hands. Long fingers stained purple—why purple?— and pale skin. Agatha can almost see the little blood vessels underneath.

It is then that she notices her surroundings. The night is a lilac sky with drops of light in it, planets a million miles away and stars shining so brightly her eyes sting. Agatha herself is glowing. Or rather, reflecting the glow. There is a woman on the horizon. It's too far for Agatha to see what she looks like, but even from far away, she can see how much she shines. A beacon in the dark. Warmth sweeps through her in gentle waves. It comes from the woman too.

In a bout of courage, the Moon waves at her. She has no idea if it will work, given how bright is the space between them. She tries. There's something magnetic in this woman as if she was the Sun and Agatha, the satellite stuck in its orbit. But isn't that exactly what they are? And suddenly, as if heaven itself had illuminated her mind, she realizes that she is the Moon.

Agatha, Goddess of the night and the dark.

Lost in her thoughts, she doesn't notice the Sun wiping away her tears, nor does she hear the surprised gasp the other woman erupts. Father listened!

"Hello?" Wanda calls out, confusion present in her tone. Dark hair flails wildly as Agatha focuses her gaze on her. She is so beautiful, the redhead thinks as she watches her from afar. Raven black mane of lustrous hair gently falling down on lean shoulders; pale, almost silver skin catching the light coming from Wanda in a soft glow. A reflection. Not quite her mirror but her opposite. This is the Moon in all her glory.

“You there!” She has to shout if she wants the other to hear it. “I’m the Sun. Or Wanda, if you prefer.” The star feels ridiculous shouting at someone who’s so far away, almost unreachable in the night sky. “What is your name?” A hopeful smile lights up her face by the time she finishes.

“I’m Agatha, dear.” The Moon smiles back. “Charmed to make your acquaintance. Now, is there any way we can meet up without all this screaming?” As if to make a point, Agatha puts a hand around her own throat. “Give a break to these vocal cords, ya know?” If she squinted her eyes just a bit, Wanda would see a teasing smile gracing the woman’s lips. However, having heard what she’d said, the Sun laughed merrily.

Thank you, Dad.

They talked the night away. What was once a sorrowful evening quickly became a cheerful night. However, when dawn starts to break, Wanda notices the Moon beginning to fade away. She tries to shine brighter, stronger in her light, desperation clutching her heart at the prospect of being alone again.

“Agatha,” The Sun is set ablaze. “Will I see you again?” The Moon is almost gone now. Giving up her place in the sky for the sunlight to shine. It would be poetic if it weren’t for the pain in her chest. How come the Moon missed her already?

“Darling, you’re the center of the universe.” Her voice is but a gentle whisper in the forenoon. Despite the distance, Wanda can hear it as if it had been whispered right by her ear. “Wherever you go, I follow.” And with sad blue eyes and a wistful smile, the moon Goddess disappears in the aurora.

—

173 days had passed since their first and only conversation. For some reason, on each night they shared, it became harder and harder for them to hear one another. And each time the Sun had to see her friend disappear in the sky, she took a little piece of her heart with her. She knew she was being dramatic. And if Agatha were here she would probably make fun of her too. Now, did she care? No, she didn't.

Wanda yearns for the Moon. Craves her soothing voice and cheeky remarks. Teasing smiles and soft eyes. The Sun felt seen under her gaze. After billions of years with only herself as company, the sun Goddess can't help but feel attached to her. Even though moths still didn't exist and she was the actual flame, Wanda was attracted to the moonlight just the same.

A little voice, however, just hidden in the confines of her mind, tells her that there was a purpose to this. This distance that they always try to close but never do. Yearning for someone she could never hold in her arms. Maybe this is just another way for Father to punish me again, Wanda thinks bitterly. She'd never been so wrong before. This was no punishment.

It was salvation.

Brooding up in the sky, the Sun hadn't noticed when night started to fall. Nor had she noticed when—instead of the Earth blocking her vision of the Moon—the object of her thoughts suddenly appeared right in front of her.

It's during a solar eclipse when they meet for the first time.

"Agatha? Is it really you?" Jumping to her feet from where she sat, Wanda feels her heart skip a beat. Nothing could compare to the Moon up close.

"It is. Come here so I can see you, darling!" A delighted smile curls on dark red lips. The goddess reaches up to softly cradle Wanda's face, a thumb brushing the warm skin of her cheek. "You're really here…"

The redhead leans into the touch. "I am. You have no idea how much I wanted to see you, Agatha. To talk to you eye to eye." The black-haired woman revels in the way green orbs gleam under her light. Their light. "To touch you." Hands to her hips pulls her closer. The Moon buries herself in those arms. It feels like being hugged by the Sun but literally this time. She giggles at her own silliness. A husky voice laughs along.

"Why are you laughing?" Wanda whispers in the crook of her neck. Agatha gives a small intake of breath, and her laughing subsides.

"I just realized the Sun is hugging me. A strange metaphor, don't you think?"

"Perhaps. Do you want me to-"

"No!" Agatha says, startling them both. She speaks quieter, "No. S-sorry, I'm just too silly for my own good. Comes with loneliness, I guess." She gives a bit of a laugh but her gaze finds the ground. A finger under her chin lifts it up.

"Hey," A soft smile spreads across the Sun's face. "It's okay. Maybe we could be silly together?" And as if to emphasize her point, she makes a silly face. Agatha can't help the guffaw that comes out. They laugh together again.

Hand in hand, they walk through the night sky. Talking about everything and nothing, they discover little things about each other, such as Agatha's liking for the sea and her influence on the tides, or Wanda's love for early mornings and summer evenings. Both women feel at home with each other, their past sorrows all but forgotten memories in their minds. Day and night. Light and darkness.

Total eclipse of the Sun.

—

It didn't take long for them to realize that they only had time to meet in person during eclipses. Solar ones, in fact. As such, whenever they got the chance, the two goddesses would always try to get the best out of the few hours they had together. Today is no different.

It was also in each other's company that they discovered the ability to incarnate themselves. In their human forms—Dad needs to create them soon—they would head down to their shared planet and take walks on the small patches of land they could find.

They're laying side by side on the ground. "Dear gods, Wanda, whatever those poor things have done to you? It's just phytoplankton," Between giggles, Agatha tries not to let a full laugh come out as she watches Wanda turn and glare at her, the redhead's own lips twitching as if she too were having a hard time not laughing. "Why do you despise them so?" Agatha is actually curious about that.

"They're just so bland! Father said that He would create mankind when I was little but apparently He forgot." She says grumpily but with a ghost of a smile on her lips. "Photosynthesis is the only thing they do all day. Not to mention under my account too!" Wanda puts on a serious face for a few moments, only for it to fall away as the twinkling laughter of her Moon hits her ears. It occurs to her, like a flash of lightning, how beautiful Agatha looks under the penumbra.

Their human forms came with the inability to display their god-like features, which was why Wanda didn't shine as the actual sun and Agatha didn't reflect her rays.

She is glad for it, really. Mortality looks heavenly on her Moon.

"You're a goofball!"

"Am not!"

"Yes, you are!" Agatha turns fully on her side, arms under her head and tenderness coloring her ocean eyes. Her gaze trails over the woman beside her. Without thinking, her hand finds Wanda's. Their laughter ceases to give space to a companionable silence. There's no need for words right now.

Despite knowing each other for months now—It feels like I've known her for years, they both think—it's at this very moment the goddesses realize how important and vital the other's presence is in their lives. Wanda found a friend in Agatha, something she had longed for as long as she could remember. Solace and understanding the foundation of their budding relationship. Yet, a flame started inside of her chest. It was small at first, barely there. A candle in the dark. Now?

Fire overtook her entire being.

The Sun burns for the Moon's touch and her smile; her azure eyes and sharp tongue, quick wit and soft words-

Wanda, the sun Goddess. The only morning star. The lost star. Once dimming but never giving out. Enters the Moon and she falls. A falling star in the dark night sky. And woe is Wanda, for she hopes Agatha catches her. Never to fade away. Never to let go.

"Wanda?" The hand Agatha holds trembles slightly. "Is everything okay?"

"Everything is fine, I'm just- it's nothing, really." There are tears in her eyes but she wills them not to fall. She is my only friend, I can't lose her for this-

"Honey, don't do this. I know there's something upsetting you. I won't force you to talk to me but know that I'm here, Wanda. I'm not going anywhere." She pulls her hand away to run her fingers through soft auburn hair. The Sun feels fire spread within.

"Promise we can still be friends?" Never in her life had she felt so insecure. But she had to know.

"Darling, how could I not be your friend? You're my sun, superstar. But yes, I promise you." Agatha tried to joke around to see if she could bring a smile to the woman's face. It is to no avail.

Wanda rests a warm hand on her cheek. Caresses the skin just beneath her eyes, brushes her nose. Ghosts over lips. With each touch, Agatha's heart plummeted in her chest. A crescent moon, thundering core.

"I've always wanted to be a star. When the Gods created the universe, I was there. I've seen things you can't even imagine. Whole galaxies colliding with each other, the death of a million stars." She closes her eyes briefly, and her voice cracks as she continues. "And when I became one, I felt completely happy. Excited even. I was to shine upon a whole world, the entire solar system. And yet… I was lonely. I was alone for so long, Agatha. But then- Then you came along. I prayed for someone, anyone to come and put me out of my misery.

My light was going out but you brought it back. You are my light, Agatha. You're the reason I still burn and will continue to burn until the end of time itself, if it means you're by my side." By the time she finishes, tears have long started falling. And by the time they fall, the Moon has already pulled the Sun into her embrace.

Black nails into her scalp. Murmured words of comfort in her ear.

The Sun sets and lays in her chest.

"Remember that thing I said on the day we met?" She waits for Wanda to nod, her mane of red hair tickling Agatha's nose. "Wherever you go, I follow. That's the truth, Wanda. Not only am I incapable of getting away from you, I also don't want to. And do you know why?" Green eyes red with crying look up at her. "Because I can't bear the thought of not being with you. The very prospect of not seeing you shine so brightly in the sky saddens me so much that-" Her voice chokes. "That sometimes I can't breathe. But when morning comes and you're up there in the sky being your sunny self," They both laugh tearfully. "I feel alive. You make me feel alive, Wanda."

It doesn't really matter who leans in first.

Day and night find each other's lips in a searing kiss. Wanda might have witnessed many things in her long life, but never had she seen the collision of a satellite and its star. What a spectacle it was. Lucky her for having the pleasure to participate in it.

They are a mess of limbs curling into one another. Not once separating from their kiss, Wanda manages to straddle Agatha with dexterity, her hands pining those of the woman to the hard surface. Tongue against tongue in an elegant and passionate dance. Total eclipse of the Sun, full Moon its only spectator.

Then, coming from the heavens above, a deep rumble sounded.

"No." A whispered command. Father had come back.

And the falling star and her crescent moon were no more.

—

Wanda opens her eyes with a silent gasp.

Sunlight hits her face lazily as if it had just woken up as well. Agatha sleeps by her side. Looking out, she sees the snowy mountain tops and the woods that surrounded their cabin being grazed by the morning sun.

Her girlfriend murmurs something in her sleep the younger witch can't quite comprehend. Trying to calm her rabbit-heart, Wanda pulls her closer and breathes into her hair. Feels her own breathing slow down. It was just a dream, it was just dream-

"Well, good morning, sunshine." Violet eyes hazy with sleep slowly blink at her. A soft smile on red lips. "What's with the long face?" Agatha taps her nose. The warm breeze coming from outside suddenly feels too hot.

Too much.

"Nothing, I- I just had the strangest dream…"

Up in the sky, the Sun wept.

#wandavision #wandagatha #wanda maximoff #agatha harkness #wandavision au #fics #moon writes

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kneipho · 4 years ago

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Sumbitted by: @mantrabay

Ballroom In The Sky.

Gazing with his mouth wide open towards a sullen evening sky dotted with jet black clouds

Geoff Wild weeps.

He was on his knees on this grass-strewn, unkempt graveyard.

Two years later and her memory still lingers.

The sudden passing of his loved one had left this middle-aged man gaunt, ashen faced and skeletal. Wild’s troubled expression had become a haunted house of uncanny notions and strange secrets waiting to flow from his water-logged eyes. Those circumstances surrounding Violet’s death were never clear.

Velvet Heart was Geoff’s courtship name for Violet.

Was it a death wish or an accidental fall from their elegant townhouse?

Death through misadventure was the colourful term used.

“Cherish all those wonderful experiences we had. Whichever one of us dies first.”

Violet actually said.

Almost as if she had some premonition.

This was six months before she passed away. .An endless see-saw of creepy dawning’s convulsed him.

Yet Wild fondly recalled when they first met at the Skyline Ballroom.

The Skyline was a battered tumbledown barn whose allure was its availability.

The chipped hardwood floor and the dusty pale cream walls with paint flakes that peeled off only confirmed its tenement status. It was known locally as the “Creaking Beam”” due to its ghostly acoustics and flickering lights. Here in this spooky venue Geoff and Violet had their earliest encounter. Wild remembered her radiant smiles.

The ripples of long dark hair, her apple blossom cheeks and of course her angelic aura..

On that night she wore a polka dot ruche dress, amethyst ear pendants, whilst sporting satin moccasins.

“Have I the gumption? The courage.

A faint heart etc.” Geoff could hear his heart flutter as he did his tightrope walk toward her.

“May I dance with you?” Geoff asked.

Velvet heart’s hands formed a lazy arch and her dainty fingers curled inwards.

“Of course. I would be delighted.” Violet spoke in that pear drop tone which beguiled everybody.

Geoff, the local journalist and writer was in seventh heaven.

They never forgot that enchanting song they first danced to, “Ballroom In The Sky.”

The song was performed by Valerie And The Blue Skies.

They weren’t very big but had a cult following..

Geoff could see how similar Violet and Valerie were.

They were mirror images of each other.

Even in speech and humour.

Valerie was based in a remote enigmatic area.

She used to refer to songs as role plays.

“You feel as though you are a member of the audience.” Valerie remarked.

Violet did admit to meeting Valerie casually and for autograph purposes but not otherwise or so it seemed.

It was amazing how “ Ballroom In The Sky” with its airy ascending rock chords and jaunty jazz lines could draw Violet, Valerie and Geoff into a peculiar triangle.

The sudden moody breaks, abrupt silences built a momentary cocoon.

Valerie’s top sideman….well, he was known as Silent Sam.

He had a track record of sorts.

Sam’s blue attire was appropriate.

He wore a large trilby hat tipped over his forehead sheltering his pointed face and pencil slim physique.

He, Sam, was short-sighted when it suited and eccentric.

Practical jokes were his forte and the impish grin.

“Yep ..Yup….or Sure.“

These were the only asides from this oddball sidemen for the most part.

He was accident prone.

Valerie had to indicate where things were. Theirs was a sign language of its own complete with slanted facial squirms.

One wondered if there was a deeper relationship between them.

Those Blue Skies airs were fillers without Sam.

Every time “Ballroom In The Sky” was played Valerie, Violet and Geoff were sharing unwittingly a secret.

The startled looks were part of this outlandish ritual.

Wild recalled now.

“Valerie could croon in a real hypnotic fashion. Everyone in the dancehall was enthralled. People would sway like ice skaters one moment, waltz in a swan-like manner the next and just as often rave in the isles like end of term teenagers.”

Geoff whispers in the graveyard.

“JUST A PASSING DREAM………..STILL SO VIVID…….DANCING IN HEAVEN…… KISSES ALL AROUND….MAGIC HAND……..A LITTLE BIT BLIND, and of course “BALLROOM IN THE SKY.”

Geoff and Violet would swing religiously to those fantasy songs every Sunday as their courtship blossomed.

“Ballroom In The Sky “ was always the highpoint.

This constellation of events occurred in a scenic nineteen seventies spot.

Despite its haunting vistas and backdrop of panoramic hills it resembled a ghost town. Openings were few against an infinite spiral of closing factories, bookstores with half-empty shelves and shopkeepers peering out of doors.

Ten years earlier it was a beacon. “I shudder to think……A jigsaw puzzle.”

Geoff surveying the cemetery.

Such memories could have been taken directly from some movie script. “Yes .. it was a hub that Skyline. Like homeless drifters, the folk who attended.”

Geoff again.

They were fugitives.

Escapees from that heavy-handed dole queue void.

Suddenly something happened.

“What the heavens is? Snap….a branch.” Momentary jitters engulfing Wild.

He shook in concert with the overarching colonnade of brown edge green leaf trees.

An eerie rustling dewdrop tiptoe now caressing Geoff’s ears.

”Up there somewhere Velvet Heart?

Dancing in the heavens?”

Nervous laughter now relief road to that traffic jam of sentiment about to speed off.

Glued to the spot that macabre sixth sense of Violet hovering above evaporates due to an illusory late evening sun shaft.

Wild could no longer hide from Valerie and Velvet Heart’s identities.

“Oh those comic jibes and piercing glances. Some ethereal intrigues were passing through the air.”

Geoff recalls with forensic clarity.

Poor Silent Sam would do his usual u-turn into the shadow.

Two months before Geoff’s and Violet’s parting, an incident occurred.

Memory is a lodger which steadfastly refuses to surrender its keys.

Valerie and the Blue Skies were in flying form as the tunes morphed into each other.

Valerie and Velvet Heart were magnets for men.

Violet caught Geoff off guard.

“Guilty conscience, there Geoff?”

Having fantasies about Valerie.

Focus on me.

As for that eternity ring remember?”

Those penetrating peepers of Violet knew how to vet a body in a flash.

“Oh no …..not at all.” Geoff with a looping

smirk.

“Just those mystical melodies working their spell.” He said.

“You came into my life like…. a new dawn.” Wild poetically.

“You honey tongue you. Geoff our song. Ballroom.” Violet mutters.

Valerie nodded towards Sam.

Her expression was a hard to decipher veil and deep code command.

“Get those fingers flying, Sam.”

In a tone almost identical to Velvet Heart.

Sam didn’t always act immediately.

“Yep.. Yup …Sure.” Sam’s stock retort.

“Ballroom In The Sky” now strong as ever cast its bewitching spell throughout the venue.

A medley was included tonight.

“SOMEONE FOR EVERYONE” ( Sam looked at Valerie), “A LITTLE BIT BLIND” ( Sam staring vacantly at both Valerie and Violet), “MIND YOUR STEP( Sam winking at Geoff while scrunching the mouth at Violet).

Violet edged toward the stage.

A dim-lit silence ensued.

Ballroom started again. Valerie and Violet now singing this tune. An eerie vacuum filled this dancehall.

A triangular crush of people occurred near the stage with Geoff in toe.

Valerie handed Violet a letter.

Sam was now talking tersely to Valerie.

A misted over photo gallery memory blur in place.

“Pst…Pst. Your Velvet Heart is back to haunt you.“ Violet’s lofty twang.

“What in the name….I can’t phantom…..fathom.” Geoff shudders.

Violet’s voice a wet whisper stretching over twigs that simultaneously tap against windows.

She pulled back an orchard pattern duvet covering Geoff.

“Fell asleep at your favourite film, The Passing Of A Velvet Heart. All those graveyard scenes shot in our small town remember?

We know Silent Sam wrote the soundtrack for the film along with Ballroom. He sings on that one.” Violet recounts.

“Incredibly you chose Velvet Heart as your courtship name for me based on the film.

The film was never a huge success but did get our area limited publicity.

Sam earned extra royalties from the soundtrack.

Valerie and Sam tying the knot next Sunday of all days.

As for that love letter you mumbled about.

It’s an invite to their secret wedding.

Very private. As Sam is.

What a time and place he chose for the invitation.

During that ethereal love song which brought us together.” Violet observes.

“Poor Sam’s a little bit blind a

on occasions or is he?

I was upstairs on the flat roof today.

Six months ago I fell off it.

You’ve never liked me being up there since.”

Violet continuing.

“Guilty secret must confess. I used to be onstage instead of Valerie.

Well, sometimes.

She was dating you pretending to be me.

We never knew each other that well but it was a dare worked out between us.“

Geoff shouted. “Hoodwinked.”

An incredulous look ripples over Wild’s pale face.

Violet’s eyes now ablaze.

“You never noticed did you? Deep down.”

The tease in Violet surfacing..

Geoff was thunderstruck.

Violet strolled towards their CD player on the mahogany table.

“Think you’ll like this one. Our song.”

Violet stated.

“May I dance with you?”

Geoff smiled. “Of course. I would be delighted.

And relieved!”

Silent Sam’s voice weaves in his own inimitable shy way a song usually sung by Valerie, his wife to be.

And sometimes Violet, or Velvet Heart.

A number that united three people in the most curious and otherworldly manner!

“Yep….Yup ….Sure.”

As Sam was in the habit of saying!

mantrabay photograph and short story copyright protected.

Thanks for reading my works

#mantrabay #submission sunday #reblog #written word #short story #fiction #submission #photographers on tumblr #photography #original photography #other #Ballroom In The Sky

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kanene-yaaay-o-retorno · 4 years ago

Text

The Color of my Soul(mates) [2]

[First oneshot]

[AO3 link]

Kanene’s Notes:

Nope, I do not regret the pun. New oneshot yaaaay!! Just a quick reminder that both Virgil and Patton’s mindsets are bad. They can work, of course, but only for a certain expense. Worry not. They will both start to go to a therapist and take care of themselves, even though this will not be heavily shown in the oneshots.

Warnings, fun facts, random things and stuff:

* That fanfic has Moxiety and Past Moceit and Past Virgil/Remus (no idea how it’s called dfghjdfghj) in a platonic relationship (yet), but it can be viewed as romantic, if you wish.

* Swearing, depreciative thoughts, losing someone (not death, just stopping to be soulmate), anger issues, anxious thoughts and nightmares. It’s hurt/comfort.

* [~*~] Means passage of time

* [...] Means change in the focus of the narrative

* This characters do not belongs to me. They all belongs to the amazing Thomas Sanders in his series of Sanders Sides.

* Something around 5.300 words. -w-)b.

* Sorry for any spelling, pontuation and grammar mistakes! Any advice is very very welcome!

* Tô com preguiça de postar a versão em português brasileiro aaaa! Thankys for reading, my lollipops! Say to someone important how much you love them, be safe, talk with the one that you love, drink water and sleep well! Byeioo!~

[~*~]

Loneliness is an island with missing boats.

Missing is when the moment tries to run away from the memories to happen again and can’t do it.

Memories are when, even without authorization your thinking re-presents a chapter.

- Adriana Falcão - Meanings

[~*~]

Hey, Dee! It’s been some time, huh? Nothing really happened around here, so I have no interesting news to share today. Buut, I learned a new knock knock joke! I would finally get you to laugh with this one! It’s like that:

Me: Knock, knock.

U: Who’s there?

Me: Ice cream.

U: Ice cream who?

Me: Ice cream if you don’t let me in!

Funny, right?!

… It feels silly to continue to talk with you through those letters. I can’t-

I don’t even know where to send them! That is stup- not great.

I just… I just miss you, Dee. A lot. My uncle says that I should get your old representation out of the bed and hide it so I can start moving on, but… It feels empty, you know? Everything.

I really miss you.

Love, Heart.

[…]

“No.”

His words echoed in his mind, the strap of his backpack slipping from his grip, his body throwing itself forward, heart jumping in the back of his throat as his steps inevitably brought him even closer to the faded green, almost white, shark plushie in front of him.

“No.”

He repeated, as if this was a spell able to make the scene before him change. His hands trembled and failed in touching the so loved object, a silent scream slipping from his slightly parted lips. Yet, he still tried to think of something. Anything that would erase his choices. He knew it.

He should have known. He read about it before, the butterfly effect. Any choice, any movement, any little thing you did could change drastically your future. It could make events – people – which would happen in your life just…

Disappear.

[The stuffed animal remained quiet on his hands, it’s blank face staring superficially, not really seeing him. Not like before.]

He knew it.

“Rat?” He knew it. He knew it. He knew, knew, knewknewknew it! “Ree?” His soul searched desperate for an answer. But he got none. No thoughts, no feelings, no small touches, no acknowledging sparks, nothing.

That word seemed to ring unbearably in his ears. There was nothing there. Nothing except for the silence and the void which filled itself with despair at every that went by.

“This better not be a prank or this time I will throw you in the washing machine for real!” Virgil’s eyes were stinging. He should have done better, should have thought in another way or another anything. He shouldn’t have done that, he shouldn’t!

“Ree, stop. That is not funny.” Ree actually preferred when Virgil called him Rat, and as his chest was scratched by an agonizing, crescent fear, deep down the young boy wished his soulmate would jump – his thoughts always felt like that, excited, uncontrollable jumpy frogs just playing around – from somewhere and demands Virgil called him by it. “Answer me!!”

His fingers squished the soft fabric, a short, unexpected wave of anger pleading for at least a shout of pain before Virgil realized what he was doing, immediately lighting his touch, tears shining in a sad gloom in the corner of his eyes. His breathing started to hurt.

He needed to do something.

“MOM!!”

Virgil opened his door with a strong slam, running through the wooded floor of the corridor, stumbling his way to the stairs, coming down at the highest speed he could muster. The adult figure was already standing in the living room, the Tv blasting a show in the background, probably the activity his mother was concentrating on before his cry. A frown painted her face and her dark eyes stared at the boy when he stood in front of her, holding his stuffed shark in her direction.

“Fix him!”

[‘it’ a quiet whisper from his brain corrected his sentence.]

Her analytical eyes danced around the toy in front of her, looking for any teared fabric, any stain or hint of what happened to it, the confusion in her actions becoming more and more prominent as no visible result was found.

[And, as her analysis occurred, the quiet whisper in the back of his mind wondered if this was the original color of the shark before it became a representation of his soulmate. They were together for so long Virgil didn’t even remember what it used to look like.]

No! The boy with heterochromatic eyes firmly gritted his teeth, head shaking. This was NOT the shark’s real color. Its real color was a dark, deep, enthusiastic green full of chaotic ideas and dumb jokes and sparks and grins.

He refused to let everything end in this way.

Realization fell in her face, a soft gasp coming from her open mouth. “Oh, Virgil…”

“No, no, no! You- You need to fix him!” But her eyes… “Mom, please,” the way her arms opened to involve his small, trembling form…

“Please, he is my best friend.”

[‘Was’]

She hugged him, cradling her fingers in his hair and lightly rocking Virgil and his sobs, her sweet words muffled by his cry. Then the younger one wiggled out of her touch, getting the plushie and running back to his room, the door slamming one more time.

He refused.

“No! No!!” He kicked his backpack, its content spreading across his carpeted floor. The shark was placed in his desk seconds before the Virgil focused his anger on his bed, throwing everything on the floor. His pillows hit the walls and the toys on his shelves. The cacophony of sounds made his head hurt, but he ignored this in order to kick and throw more things.

Seconds, minutes, countless pieces of time passed before he stopped, panting and with stinging eyes in the middle of the room, his only possessions left untouched was his guitar and Ra- His shark stuffed animal.

Because he loves playing guitar. Because he loves Ree.

His fingers pet its soft fur, wandering in every detail, trying to burn in his soul how alive and colored it used to be before today.

Virgil felt like crying, felt like hugging his old-representation with all his might and just spent the rest of the day like this, pleading that Ree would come back and Virgil would do better and everything could be back to normal again.

But he refused.

He refused to cry like a baby. He refused to let this happen to him. He refused to be made a fool by the Soulmate System or whatever sadistic creature that observed him right now. He refused to go through all of this again.

Ever again.

Virgil opened his closet and got up on his chair, hiding the shark on the highest shelf under a bunch of old comforts he never got to use.

They wanted him to be a Colorless? Very well, then.

[~*~]

Anger is when the dog who lives in you shows its teeth.

Sadness is a gigantic hand that squeezes your heart.

- Adriana Falcão - Meanings

[~*~]

Hiya, Dee.

Some days are better, some are worse.

It hurts.

But, hm, good things, right? Today was sunny and refreshing, I love when this happens. A ladybug landed in my hand yesterday, it was so small… I also found another beautiful feather when I went to the park last weekend, very fluffy and a baby on the bus smiled at me after I made some funny faces.

I hope you’re also receiving and giving some beautiful smiles there. Aunt just called me for the movie night so… See you later!

I miss-

Love, Heart.

[…]

Virgil woke up sweating. A tight feeling clutching the back of his mind. However, he managed to catch himself before his eyes opened, the back of his hand pressing them, as if to make sure they wouldn’t open against his will.

Urg… Not this again…

Virgil pressed harder the pillow curling around his head, the pressure easing the irritation as he groaned in protest, wondering how much more time it would take before he finally grew used to this routine. An annoying sensation banged rhythmically on his chest, hammering together with his heart and flying along with the butterflies on his stomach over and over again until a slightly nausea almost leaded the one in pajamas to give up and just find the nearest stuffed animal so his soulmate’s bond could finally be initiated, his representation showed up and then the exhausted teen could finally get some freaking rest and then proceed to turn a blind eye to his soulmate for the rest of their lives.

Who would say that ignoring the Soulmate System would be so hard?

But, damn, even if this shit always came back at the right moment when the first ray of sunshine hit his face, usually Virgil had at least the freedom of the night to sleep!

His hand wandered clumsily, hitting the bean bag next to his bed and looking for the small device he always left there for the night. He sighs when his fingers make contact with the cold of his phone, quickly bringing it up to his face and making sure nothing else could get in his eye field. On the third try he succeeded to put the right password, ignoring the video shining on it and quickly lowering the brightness of his screen until it was almost nonexistent.

Four in the morning. What the heck was his not-for-much-longer-soulmate doing up at this hour??

Ok. It didn’t matter, Virgil murmured to himself, his words slurring, completely engulfed by the fog of sleepiness which continued to involve him. It didn’t matter because Virgil was sure he would manage to win that battle, just like he did on every other occasion since Ree. Of course, he never had a perfect receipt for this, only a group of superficial orientations as focusing on something else, tossing around the mattress until the exhaustion took over his body or doing anything that guaranteed his suborn nature to fight until the bond faded away with some hours, maybe one or two days.

However, this one was about to complete a whole week and his resolution was beginning to weaken, escaping between his fingers regardless of how much he fought to hold it with tooth and nails. The mild headache growing on him was the proof of this.

He flipped his pillow, letting its cold surface rest on his face, adjusting himself to lay starfished onto the bed.

He needed distractions.

Songs. He liked to listen to music a lot, something he would be very much inclined to do now if it wasn’t so late and his earphones were so far away. But, stopping to think about it, it was crazy how sounds work, like, even if they’re far away they manage to be heard. Pretty much like that weird sound captured by that boat who was only minding its business… The Bloop. Heh. The Bloop. Such a stupid name… He wondered if it was a Jurassic animal doing that and when humanity would be finally able to answer his question. If it is really an animal will they call him Bloop? That is a horrible name to give to something probably gigantic and scary… Bloop… Bloopers… blooo...

His muscles from his toes to the tip of his fingers began to relax, his breathing becoming more erratic as the trail of nonsense thoughts led him away from reality and straight to the cloak of Morpheus. Bit by bit he started to be unaware of his room. First the faint sound of his spider quietly scraping the sand on her terrarium, second the sensation of the pillow on his face, then the cold of his phone as it slipped away from his hand…

And, unsupervised by the teenager's eyes, his index finger hit the ‘play’ button on the video, and the blasting of Aquiles Priester’s drums filled the room in a hot shot, followed in the same second by Virgil’s hoarse scream. The confusion and sound making the one with heterochromatic eyes stumble to a sit position, blankets and pillows falling from him as his astonished movements tried to be coordinated enough to turn off his phone before his mother woke up and decided to know why and what her son was doing up at four-darn-morning.

The button was hit and the silence was faster in cover the room all over again, being only broken by Virgil’s shaken gasps, his trembling fingers laying on his adulterated heartbeats, taking large, wobbly deep breaths in order to normalize it, his attention entirely focused on hearing any hint of muffled step outside his room.

In. Hold. Out.

He was fine. Everything was fine.

This was only a scare.

In. Hold. Out.

Okay. No sound. Virgil allowed himself to fall on his bed, stretching and humming in attempts to ground him to reality, not taking too long to let the sleepiness begin to slowly crawl to his mind again, his body feeling surprisingly much lighter than it had been in days. A yawn escaped from his lips. What the hell he was doing with his cell phone anyway?

For the second time in the night his body fled to a sitting position, the sudden calm and coziness which hit his senses now having a slightly sour taste on his mouth as the teenager realized what it meant.

His soulmate bond was complete.

His gaze flew to the small pile of fabric on the floor, a glint of a sky-blue color shining amidst it. He pushed his blankets away and his breath hitched when the full form of his soulmate’s representation was shown.

Oh no. Nononono. That was-

That wasn’t normal. Nor supposed to happen. Oh shit. Shitshitshitshit. What could he do?

Virgil dropped – carefully, even if the cold on the bottom of his stomach screamed for him to run! – the object on his bed, getting across the room and right in front of his closet in a blink of an eye. The door flung open, his gaze scrambling through all his possessions in search of that specific teddy bear his mother gave him a year ago, telling it was going to help him to heal, grabbing it firmly and plopping it next to the blue fabric calmly laying on his mattress. He bit his nails while his eyes ran from an object to another, waiting for the color to somewhat jump on the plushie, where it was supposed to go in the first place.

Virgil stared inquisitively at his pillow- no, his soulmate’s representation, as if he could scare the reality into changing itself. His fingers ran through his hair, feet pacing on the floor.

Ok. His soulmate was a pillow. A literal pillow. That was not good.

Before he could fall on his parasitizing thoughts or hide the pillow and pretend nothing had happened, a badly muffled sound reached him, making his body freeze as his brain immediately recognized what it was:

Crying.

[...]

Before is a caterpillar who didn’t become a butterfly, yet.

Indecision is when you know very well what you want, but you think you should want another thing.

- Adriana Falcão - Meanings

[...]

Hey, dear! Heart here again! It’s been a time, huh? I discovered a new Pet Shop nearby and a very nice old lady let me play with the puppies after school. You really should see the hamsters there! They’re the cutest, most precious soft things!!

They don’t have any snakes, sadly.

I… I hid your teddy bear and I’m getting used to not stare at the right corner of the mattress, looking for you.

I still miss your smooth thoughts, your warmth, your advice and receipts and… you.

I think I’m getting better. The sensation is starting to feel… normal.

Remember we-

I used to-

I know you won’t really read this, but I’m trying to keep taking care of myself.

Hooray?

Love, Heart.

[…]

Patton loved stuffed animals and this was a fact that anyone who got into his room for barely two seconds would realize. Small plushies of multicolored frogs rested on his shelves. A big polite giraffe sat on his desk, proudly showing off her new necktie and his older ones were in the closet, guarding his favorites clothes. His soulmates, of course, had a special treatment, receiving a seat on his bed, closer to him and within his research at any occasion, emergency or not.

And that was an emergency. Well…technically.

Maybe…

Perhaps not.

The teenager changed to a sitting position, his fingers trapping the mattress in a deadly grip, tears falling from his eyes, which was firmly focused on the moon shaped night light across his room, trying to kick out the too cold, too hot feeling the nightmare left on his skin.

His brain felt fuzzy and his thoughts were all mushed together, way too messy to properly fight against the memories of his dream replaying on his head. The sensation of pure despair still running on his veins as the monster – tall, fast, its shadow hovering over his small form – chased him and his friends. Patton still felt his throat dry after running for what seemed hours, and for when he realized they would never manage to actually escape from it. He could feel the betrayed eyes of his loved ones as he made each one of them trip, the small period when the monster got them giving him enough time to escape, the screams ringing on his ears.

He muffled his sobs, slapping his hand on his mouth and getting up, going to his closet and grabbing his panda. It was one of the fluffiest stuffed animals he had and he could use a bit of softness right now. His steps were tired and he hid his face on the plushie even before laying on his bed again, curling around the bear as if it was the core of safeness, as if it would make all the bad thoughts and feelings go away.

As if it could erase all the nightmare and convince the part of his mind which said that if it was real life, that would be exactly what he would do, that it was wrong.

It was! It was completely wrong! Patton would never, ever, betray his friends, or hurt them, or go away when they needed most! He wouldn’t. He would fight, if it was needed. He would do his best every single time to help them! To be there. He wouldn’t just run away. He couldn’t. He couldn’t be alone. He didn’t even bear that thought.

[A part of his soul struggled, firm on its position. It kept holding into a bond that directed to another soul who kept pushing him away, both refusing to change their mind.]

Bear. Patton let go of a weak, barely audible, forced giggle, squeezing the panda on his touch tighter. Panda was a bear. Heh. His tears began to calm themselves, falling slower from the corner of his eyes, a strange and sudden wave of strange, but welcomed calmness hitting him.

A sudden warm touch laid on his forehead.

“Hey, are you okay?”

Patton gasped, his wide eyes flying open to stare at the now purple plushie on his grip.

Purple. Pandas weren’t purple. He was sure this one was always white with black dots and tiny glasses on it. Definitely not purple. Not unless it was-

Oh.

Ohhh.

Oh no.

For a moment his breath was taken, adrenaline exploded across his body and his mind went blank, his face stumbling forward to press his lips on the panda’s forehead, a completely lack of words, especially when a flow of sentences began to appear running over themselves and leading to his very tired brain to struggle in order to try to grasp their meaning before another phrase came and took its place.

[His body seemed to relax, letting go of a ball of tension Patton didn’t even realize he had in the first place.]

“Fuck, sorry, that was pretty dumb. Of course you’re not fine, why else would you be crying? What I was trying to say is: Can you get better? No, wait! That sounded harsh and it’s definitely not what I meant- wanted to say. Ehh, shit. Okay. Uhh. Breath, okay? Breathing is a good thing. You have to breathe to stay alive so I think it’s already a good start. Keep breathing, please do not die. Oh god, wait, that is not a dangerous situation, is it? Are you in danger? Are you dying? Oh, fuck I can’t hear-”

A startled giggle made a run from Patton’s lips, making his new soulmate to be quiet.

“Urg, sorry.”

“No, no. I was not laughing at you!” He adjusted his grip so the only part touching the purple bear would be him holding one of his paws, realizing he forgot to stop hugging him earlier. “I am okay. I just… didn’t want to cry on you, sorry.”

“It’s okay. I don’t, huh, care.”

“Crazy how bonds happen nowadays.” Patton attempted a joke, feeling suddenly a bit vulnerable, internally wishing the other wouldn’t ask about the reason for his tears. “It-It’s hot today, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, with the Sun and everything.”

“Yeepp.” Patton sniffed, cleaning the tear track left on his cheeks before resting his back on the bed’s headboard, a beginning of a headache after that waterfall of emotions shining in the horizon.

“...Do you want to listen to a song? It helps me to calm down when I’m, ya know.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m already a bit better.”

“Ok, sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Maybe it was sleepiness or the excitement of having a new soulmate, but before he could think much more about it the hidden truth was slipping from his mouth, “I’m grounded. No phone for the week.”

“That sucks.” The teenager just shrugged, hoping his soulmate would understand the action by his movement.

Silence impregnated the room, spreading and filling his system, his eyelashes closing bit by bit.

“I know how to play guitar. I can… play a song for you. Onlyifyouwantofcourse.” The thought was quick, quiet and disappeared as soon as it arrived, leading Patton to almost believe he imagined it.

A good feeling bloomed in his chest, a smile flourishing on his face as he held his soulmate’s free hand, carefully squeezing them in what he hoped it showed his gratitude.

“I would love to.”

“’Kay. Uh, cool. Give me a second.”

And then a few minutes later his form was engulfed by warmth. Patton let go a sigh of relief, basically melting in the so caring touch, don't having the heart - that word gave a hurtful tug in his chest - to remember his new soulmate he couldn't really hear the accords, only the shy, calming humming rumbling on his chest and lullabying them to a peaceful sleep.

[~*~]

Feeling is the language the heart uses when it needs to send a message.

- Adriana Falcão - Meanings.

[~*~]

"How can I call you?"

Patton stopped his voice before that old nickname got out, scratching his throat. He should try to move on, right?

Baby steps.

"Pat."

"Pat?"

"Pat-Pat!"

Virgil rolled his eyes, denying the small smile which appeared on the corner of his mouth.

“You can call me V.”

[…]

“So, you’re a pillow.”

Patton blinked, a surprised snort filling the room. “V, I know I often say I’m soft but if you wanted to rest on me all you needed to do was ask!” He added some shadowing on some feathers, giving the drawing of the Bem-te-Vi more profundity. He was really happy he found that site about the birds of America.

“No, I mean literally. Like… your representation is not a stuffed animal, it’s a pillow.”

“Oooh…” He blinked a few times. “I didn’t know that still happens.”

“What do you mean with ‘still happens’? This happened to you before?”

“Not with me, but I saw a video about this! Before the plushies became famous due their shape being easier to be seen as human-like, the bond would form in anything that could be quickly dyed, just like clothes, pieces of fabric, pillows… I think if they showed it to a doctor, he would describe their condition as ‘comfortable!’” Patton shook lightly the panda’s shoulder, smiling. “Uh? Got it? Comfortable? Because they’re soft?”

“Pat, that was horrible.”

“Awww, come oon.” Patton rested his chin on V’s head, forgetting his drawing for a while. “Puns are harder than knock knock jokes! You have to wait for the perfect timing to make them.” Virgil huffed. “Not even an itsy bitsy giggle?”

“Nope.”

Silence.

“Pat?”

“No. I am pouting.”

He felt a couple of pats (ha-) on his head, the touching going away in a few seconds. “You will get there some day.” The other answered his soulmate with a raspberry, giggling a bit of his own silliness before going back to his hobby. He really was planning to finish this bird today.

“The thing is… Since you’re, ya know, a pillow. I was thinking… okay, I know that this will sound weird but… I was thinking of putting some clothes on your representation so I can… try to see you better.”

“Ah.”

“Only if you’re comfortable, sure!”

“No, no. I am! It’s just…” Patton bit his lips, lightly squeezing the shell of his ear with the hand that wasn’t holding the pencil, adjusting his body to a better sitting position. “What clothes do you have in mind? Not that I think your taste is bad or you don’t know how to choose good clothes or something like that!”

“No, it’s cool!” The thought came in the moment Patton forced himself to stop his nervous talking. “I wanted to ask you because of that, I, uh, have black t-shirts, jeans, an old grey hoodie, PJs, clothes when I was a kid, onesies, maybe I can get a dress?”

“Gasp. Do you have onesies?? Aww, I want!”

“Everyone has a onesie.” Virgil mumbled in defense, feeling his cheeks getting hot. “I have a skeleton one, a raccoon and the Toothless from How to Tra-”

“OHMYGOSH YOU HAVE TOOTHLESS!” Virgil had absolutely no idea how Pat managed to make a thought so high pitched and excited to the point the words themselves were barely understandable. “HE IS THE MOST PRECIOUS, CUTE LIL DRAGON…” and then a bunch of squeaks and mumbling took over his brain just as he has hugged and then lightly bounced before suddenly everything disappeared.

He decided it was safer to let the silence prolong itself a bit longer.

…

“Pat?”

“You might need to give me a few more minutes, kiddo.”

“You need to chill, dude.” Virgil remarked, a ray of fondness shining in his words. He gathered his onesie. It was his favorite one when he was fourteen, now it didn’t even fit on him anymore and it clearly wasn’t made to be used by a pillow, as well, but it would suffice until he thought of a better solution. “Ok. Got it, you might want to use your Blocker now.”

“Okayy, it’s somewhereeeeee...” Patton rummaged the content of his backpack, looking for the earphone-shaped object. He hadn’t the chance to buy the wireless prototype, so he struggled a few seconds to untangle the cables. “Here! So, see you in fifteen minutes?”

“Ok. If you hear or feel something just touch my arm and I will immediately stop.”

“Right!! Bye!” Patton waved, more a habit than anything else, plugging the Blocker on his ears and the cluing its ventosa behind his head, right where his cerebellum was. A few pieces of time went by before his head became partially empty, only his thoughts filling it. He put the panda away.

It was a strange feeling, to use this outside his school, nor parallel conversation of his classmates or a teacher’s voice filling the air to distract his attention for the fact that he couldn’t hear or feel his soulmates anymore. He hummed, wondering how Lo was and writing a self note on the corner of his paper that he should check on him later, ask for him to finish that story with the smart detective he was telling him on Sunday before Patton fell asleep due the other’s habit to keep petting his hair, probably a revenge for Patton’s constant need to hugging, holding or actively interacting with his serious soulmate’s representation, more often than not receiving fond-exasperate pokes in return.

He looked through the window, mind wandering as the wind hit the tree in his neighbor’s yard, messing with its leaves. It was a bit lonely to have your thoughts all to yourself…

But not entirely bad.

[…]

“Sooo, howz does it looks like?” The naturally excited voice asked. Virgil just pressed his hand firmer on his lips, his other arm hugging his middle. His gaze fell for what it felt the umpteen time in the blue dyed pillow before him, the sleeves of his onesie folded inwards in a poor attempt to cut half of its original length, the ‘legs’ were criss crossed and all of this ignoring, of course, the unnatural rectangular shape of the whole thing.

‘Like shit.’ It was his first thought, but he decided to not send it to Pat.

“Weird.”

“I am looking at my pillows right now and-” giggles, “but come ooon, it’s Toothless! There is no way it isn’t at least a bit cute!”

‘You have no neck.’ He internally panicked, looking at the few, sporadic tiny blue hearts appearing amidst the black onesie, showing the representation was getting used to the new fabric attached to it. ‘A probably-head, shoulders but no neck. It’s like a reverse freaking giraffe!’

However, Virgil decided against sharing this particular vision with the other.

“I guess. Are you… breathing well or whatever?” His tune was a mix of nonchalant and nervous, the choice of words making him wince.

“I am. Why?”

“No. Nothing. No reason.”

“Oookay.” The teenage signed at the confusion on his soulmate’s tune, why did he had to talk in the first place or be so weird making a such big deal of something stupid like that? Urg. He stared at the blue object one more time. Damn Soulmate System. Damn destiny. Damn lack of socialization skills.

…………

But, dude, really, the guy has literally no neck here, there is NO WAY he isn’t feeling nothing because of that. Pat is probably lying because he pities him after a so horrible, futile attempt of fixing what he caused. No. Wait. He can’t just assume his soulmate is lying because of his overthinking, the other part of his brain retorted. Was he overthinking? He probably was. He always did it. Or perhaps this was a correct inkling of Pat. Soulmates were supposed to do that sort of thing after some time, right? One week was enough time? What he-

“Hey!” Pat’s thought cut his own. “Sooo, now that you can ‘see’ me a bit better… hug? You can say no if you want, sure!”

Virgil blinked one, two, three times.

“Ok. But you let go when I let go, got it?”

“Sure thing, V!” Warmth bloomed in his chest when he heard his nickname, Virgil wasn’t sure why.

He embraced the representation, feeling a bit silly, the same feeling that was fast to go away as Pat hugged him as well, firm but careful. The sensation overwhelmed his senses, but in a good way, leading the one who loved guitars and got a strange hyper fixation on drums to let go a sigh, body relaxing.

He patted Pat’s back two times before finishing the touch. “There you go.”

“Thanks! Sooo, see you later.”

“Sure thing.” He agreed, wanting nothing more than a good hot bath after so many feelings in such a small period of time.

“uwu”

“How the fu-”

“NO SWEARING!”

“-did you do that?”

Virgil snorted, the warmth still spreading on his chest and maybe - only maybe, - having a new soulmate wasn’t an entire bad thing.

23 notes · View notes

livinghostly · 4 years ago

Text

one missing firefly

theo raeken x reader

not my gif!

words: 2900

request/summary: even with the newest threat to beacon hills, the reader is hesitant to accept theo's help. to her misfortune, scott sends them out together to take back something stolen. as usual, the plan falls through.

warning: fighting, blood

a/n: i still write for my favorite apathetic bastard <3 i'm not sure how many parts this'll have

[...]

"are you sure they have it?" stiles probed, one arm crossed over his chest and the other picking at his lips. "like, 100%? you didn't just lose it in one of your many, many cross country trips fleeing from law enforcement?"

exasperated sighs echoed from around the room, drawing an offended expression on to his face. it was dark outside and the pack's tiredness had escalated to shared frustration, being woken up or pulled out of their plans at 12 a.m. with a sudden house call from scott.

you stood over the kitchen table with both hands on the wood, pushing your tongue against the inside of your cheek. you rocked on your heels, looking up at the rest of the pack, and other additions.

scott was standing on the other side of the table, listening intently to the conversation. he met your gaze and shrugged, as if asking you to stay and listen a little longer.

derek closed his eyes and clenched his jaw in annoyance. "yes, i'm sure. before they broke in, it was there. now, it's not."

a new round of hunters had infiltrated beacon hills after more mysterious news coverage had spread outside of the town's close quarters. they were more of exterminators, they had no code, no ethics. they wanted to eradicate every last living supernatural creature, despite the clean history they may have.

hours ago they had broken into derek's loft, and if he'd chosen to fight instead of run he wouldn't have made it out. when he returned, it was ransacked. they were looking for something, and they found it.

the container of nemeton wood, which held the nogitsune.

"why would– why would they take it?" liam asked, he was standing in the doorway next to stiles, who nodded along. "if it's supernatural and they have it, isn't that good? they'll keep it contained."

you licked your lips, "it's leverage. and if they're desperate they could set it free, into a new host.

"i don't doubt that void will have a vendetta for us," lydia spoke up. "we put that thing in a box for over two years to rot after ruining his game. if they let him go, he'll come back. and he'll tear us apart."

silence settled over the room, your pack members shifted their gazes fo the floor to cope with the tension that filled the space. stiles looked the most ruffled, messing with his fingers whilst deep in thought.

"you okay?" your voice broke through the air, barely above a whisper but it caught everyone's attention. their heads snapped up to you, and then followed to stiles.

he sighed. "i'm not all that enthusiastic of the spirit that once possessed me coming back with a vengeance."

malia nodded, crossing her arms. "then, we stop them. we know where they're staying, we go in, and we get it."

"yeah," scott said in confidence, but the expression on his face was uncertain. too long of silence passed until he continued. "we'll figure out a way. me, and derek."

they were the strongest, you knew it was what he was getting at. and he was right, out of all of you, a true alpha and an evolved werewolf were the ones who would have the best chance at bringing down a pack of hunters– maybe liam, too.

but this wasn't a fight on neutral ground, it would be on their turf.

"not to step on your toes, scott, but that's a terrible idea," you said, straightening your posture. he raised his eyebrows, surprised, and multiple heads turned to you in question. "it's a hunter's den. it'll be lined with mountain ash, you won't get past the welcome mat and you'll kill yourself trying."

"so, what are you saying?" he shrugged.

you swallowed, but stated strongly, "i'm saying i'll go."

you didn't have claws or amplified abilities, and you didn't need them. you had enough experience with weaponry and hand-to-hand to defend yourself, he knew that. you knew the thought process of a hunter, what to look for and how to look over your shoulder as second nature. derek helped you fight like a werewolf– in addition to the years of supernatural encounters riding on your back, you were enough.

but scott seemed to have his own internal conflict. he looked past you, his eyes fixated on something. silently begging, you could tell, as he drew his eyebrows together and tilted his head to the side.

you looked over your shoulder and spotted theo, strewn over the couch with apathy. he was so quiet you'd almost forgotten he was there, mostly observing the pack meeting. he rarely said anything unless he was directly involved in the discussion or there was a sly remark aimed at him. and when he did open his mouth, he was shut down by malia or stiles.

he raised his eyebrows, seemingly bored. he met your gaze.

widening your eyes, you turned to scott. "no."

"y/n, you can't go alone. you need someone that can fight and go through mountain ash."

"then, i'll go with–" you searched around the room, and gestured to the boy in the doorway. "stiles. he has a bat."

"that's not exactly inconspicuous," scott chuckled weakly.

"i don't need inconspicuous, i'm not ringing the doorbell!"

"i'll go," theo spoke up, breaking the staring contest you held with scott. his voice drew the room to a silence, and the pack point their eyes to him, but you refused to turn around and look at him again.

you heard the couch shift beneath his weight, and then he brought himself to his feet. your gaze flickered to malia, who's nostrils flared in silent defiance as he stepped closer to you.

"i don't need you to go," you growled.

"i don't see any other volunteers." he glanced around the room, your pack members averted their eyes shamefully. but no one spoke up.

you couldn't blame them, the hunters were terrifying and all of you– even stiles –had been at the barrel of their guns at least once. they were worse than the argents are the calaveras ever were.

but you were unmoved by his words, and turned around to face him with a cold expression.

scott sighed. "he's right. and we can trust him."

"until he stabs us in the back, again," stiles spoke up. "or sticks his claws into someone's chest, again. probably yours, scott. again."

"i've done a lot for this pack," theo said, raising his eyebrows as he looked around the room. "and i'm not even in it. i'm here to help you guys."

"you're here because you don't want to be put back into the ground," you shot back, narrowing your gaze. he looked to you, annoyed with your disapproval.

the pack began to bicker back and forth, forming sides. aggression began to seep out of everyone, it was written on their faces. the majority of the pack trusted theo, whilst you, malia and stiles didn't even want him in the room.

as argumentative as theo was, he wasn't saying anything. he kept his arms crossed, listening to the chaos unfold as everyone vouched for their own solution.

there was only one person who could make the final vote.

"enough!" scott demanded in a shout, his voice becoming distorted with a low growl slipping through. all eyes turned to him as he heaved, and after a few seconds passed, his voice became soft again. "theo is going with you. both of you are safer that way."

you adjusted your jaw, resisting the urge to argue further. a sigh passed through your lips. "fine."

two p.m. is when you decided that it would be the path of least resistance to get in and out. they spent most of the days away from home, slithering through the town, watching and waiting for someone to slip up and reveal their true colors.

they'd been asking around, feigning as journalists or investigators to the townspeople to get leads on some of the creatures. at night, they would hunt or go back home to sleep, depending on the progress they made that day.

you stepped carefully through the woods, keeping on the trails and avoiding any sticks or leaves that could break under your feet. theo, a few feet behind you, wasn't so careful. his footsteps were heavy and racked up the dirt beneath them.

"you've never dealt with real hunters, have you?" you asked aloud. when the anuk-ite had infested beacon hills it turned everyone into killers, not hunters. they were inexperienced and trigger happy, but that wasn't the case now.

he stiffened, the weight of his heels digging into the leaves and drawing a crunch. he continued walking, keeping his head to the ground as he stepped around the loud obstacles. you smirked to yourself.

"not exactly," he responded.

an awkward silence filled the air, flowing between you constantly. you tried to shove off that feeling, as well as the hyperawareness you had to his presence, and kept your eyes peeled for any sudden movements or traps as you approached the property.

suddenly, you stopped in your tracks. theo kept walking until he was nearly against your back, following your gaze steadily. over the hill was the house, seemingly abandoned, it looked like it hadn't been touched in years.

licking your lips, you turned to him. "can you hear anything? a heartbeat?"

theo swallowed, and looked to the side as he focused. his jaw clenched as he strained to hear. "no, nobody's home."

"this is a good start," you breathed, continuing your trek up to the property. you circled around to the back of the house, theo following your every step.

suddenly, he spoke up. "i don't know much about this plan."

"get in, get the triskele box, and get out."

"it can't be that simple, it never is."

you rolled your lips back into your mouth, walking up to the back patio. it was covered in dust and the boards of wood looked as if they were ready to snap in half at too sudden of weight.

he huffed at your silence and continued, "what if something goes wrong?"

"what if you just trust me?" you countered, stopping at the door. you cast a glance over your shoulder and placed a hand on the doorknob.

"you would have to trust me first."

you frowned, and pushed open the door carefully. it lead into a kitchen, where the majority of the space on the countertops were coated with dust and cobwebs. there was a leather holster laid out, numerous knives missing, and the others that were left had been wiped clean of blood with a red-stained rag thrown to the side.

the windows were boarded up on the outside, creating a darkness over the room. you could still see, but it was difficult.

there was ruined furniture around covered in plastic wrap and shards of glass on the floor swept to the wall out of the walkway.

"this place doesn't feel too welcoming," theo whispered, his voice alerting you how close he was, practically stepping on your heels.

you opened one of the cabinets, searching for it, but there were only broken or stained plates left. "go upstairs. i'll check down here." you turned and met his eyes, he was reluctant to leave. "and if you find it, don't open it."

he raised his eyebrows. "i'd appreciate it if you had a little more faith in me."

before the conversation could continue, he followed your orders and turned around towards the living room. when he walked, he nearly dragged his feet across the ground and let his weight sink into the floorboards. painstakingly loud, without the belief that there was a reason to be quiet.

each cabinet you opened only left you more frustrated, finding nothing more than bugs and abandoned silverware. after you deserted that idea, you turned to the living room.

you peaked into the fire place first, finding a collection of guns hidden away inconspicuously. but no box. you rolled your eyes at the armory and turned towards the other side of the room, your gaze falling to the couches. they looked scratchy and the cushions sank after being sat in too many times. there was something about it.

tilting your head, you walked behind it, and then bent down to the floor. you curled your hands underneath the bottom of the couch and lifted with a strained groan. not wanting to be loud, you gently set it down, now on it's flipped side.

"i don’t see anything up here!" theo called down, you could hear his footsteps coming towards the stairwell.

you knelt down, your eyes falling to a poorly reattached seem. it was holding something inside, heavy enough to create a dip. "it's okay, i think i found something."

he waltzed down the stairs, raising his eyebrows with surprise upon spotting you. he came closer, pausing in his tracks for a moment as you unsheathed a pocket knife, and then tiptoed for your side.

theo bent down as you were, his eyes on focused on you as you dragged the knife down the material of the couch. you were curious, your features contorting with concentration as the fluff began to sprout from the couch.

you dropped the knife to the floor and dug your hand in, searching blindly. you tried to hold back your wince as something sharp dragged along your skin, but he caught the expression.

"what? you okay?" he leaned forward, one hand on the ground to steady himself.

you nodded, "yeah, i just–" you stopped yourself as your fingers wrapped around the edge of a cylinder. it was rough against your flesh, and heavy as you began to pull it out.

you set it in your lap with narrowed eyebrows, you hadn't seen it in a long time. the wooden container decorated with a symbol– the triskele. you ran your thumb gently over it.

"that's it, right?"

"yeah," you met his gaze. he was ready to stand up and leave just the way you came, his eyes flickering from the box to your face.

"okay, then let's go."

you nodded, pulling your wounded hand into a fist.

he gently placed his hand on your wrist, turning it over and pulling at your fingers to expose the palm of your hand. fresh blood was slowly pooling, it had dripped on to the floor and stained the couch fluff. "you're bleeding."

sighing, you pulled it from his grasp. "it's not that bad." you brought yourself to your feet again and he mimicked your actions. "i'll fix it when we get back to scott's."

a new voice broke through the air. "i- i don't think i can let you do that."

you nearly jumped and looked past theo to the archway of the kitchen. he turned as well, spotting a boy only a few years younger than you holding a shotgun in his hands.

theo reacted before you had time to. he jumped towards the kid and grabbed the barrel of the gun and lifting it into the air as a shot rang out. he snarled, shining his yellow eyes and he pushed the boy further into the kitchen.

loosening your grip on the container, you leaned down and swiped your pocket knife on the ground. you set the box on one of the tables and pursued the boys in the kitchen, walking in on theo being thrown to the fridge, creating a large dent.

the unnamed boy turned to face you, raising his weapon into the air, and you ducked. he shot at nothing and you charged at his torso, pushing him to the ground. the shotgun clattered next to you, and you held your knife to his throat.

as you looked at him, your stance faltered. he couldn't be any older than fourteen, but he was strong. he had fear in his eyes, panic piercing into yours.

in your moment of weakness, he took his chance and punched you in the jaw. you leaned back and held the point of impact, allowing him to shove you off and to the floor. he picked up his shotgun again, and aimed it at you.

"okay, wait! wait, wait, wait, wait, wait!" theo shouted, one hand on the counter to steady himself as he nearly stood over you. there was blood seeping from her corner of his mouth, as well as his stomach. "she's not like me, okay? she's human."

the boy was unmoved, keeping his stance and watching you prop yourself up on your forearms.

theo continued, "we'll leave the container, and we can go. but if you shoot her, i'll rip your throat out."

"no," the hunter said, his lip twitched. "they wouldn't like it if i let you go."

he turned the shotgun around, facing the butt of it towards you. for a moment, you found yourself confused thinking his actions betrayed his words. but then, he raised it further up before bringing it back down against your forehead.

#theo raeken #theo raeken x reader #theo raeken imagine #theo raeken fic #reader x theo raeken #teen wolf #teen wolf x reader #teen wolf fic #spleen writes

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kagrenacs · 4 years ago

Text

Explaining the Iceberg #7

I skipped over some content that I didn’t find appropriate/offensive.

Hasphat Antabolis: Caius’ informant in Morrowind, author of several books including The Life and Times of the Nerevarine

Elf Sightings: Random dialogue from Nords in Morrowind. “Seen any elves? Hahaha”

Sea Gods: An observation that generally there seem to be few gods of the sea in tamriel. MK said he’d offer his explanation in ‘Captain Tobiases sword meeting with Cyrus the Restless’ However this fic was never completed.

The Last War: A theoretical, penultimate war between elves and men due to ideological differences spanning back to the Dawn Era.

Gods are Imaginary: A pretty easy one. Applying the belief that the existence of gods are to personalize different natural phenomena and concepts, instead of the gods actually being people you could talk to.

Arnotelicon: Absolutely no idea.

The Calling: A reported Dwemer ability, similar to telepathy.

Chimer-Quey: From Pocket Guide, second edition (Which is essentially scrapped lore/imperial propaganda) Cathnoquey is an island in the Padomaic Sea, between Morrowind and Akavir. It’s home to a group of Chimer who separated from the mainland at some point in the past, and were unaffected by Azura’s curse.

Everything said about Talos is true: Because of the paradoxical nature of Dragon Breaks (and how Talos may have ascended after the events of Daggerfall), Talos is both a mortal and a false god (Tiber Septim, Wulfharth and Zurin) and the Ninth Divine.

Tigers are Dragons: The supposed connection between Tigers/cats and Dragons. The Ka Po’Tun of Akavir are similar to Khajiit, but appear more tigerlike, and their god is said to have become a dragon himself.

Everything Vivec says is a lie: Not much to explain here, Vivec is well known to have dual meanings within works and even outright lie.

Reman heard Pelinal: The only thing i can think of linking this to is the legend of Pelinal shouting Reman’s name in battle.

The Tribunal Never Existed: Possibly a reference to this reddit thread, exploring how history would differ if the Tribunal never ascended https://www.reddit.com/r/teslore/comments/9vcu18/what_if_the_tribunal_never_existed/

Orc Tits: A piece of art by MK depicting Orcs with 6 nipples, like a boar.

The New Man: A being that achieves Amaranth

Reachman Anarcho-Primitivism: Anarcho-Primitivism is the purposeful rejection of modern technology, in favor of a largely self-sustaining or communal lifestyle. (I’d argue a group of people would have to be immersed in a society with values surrounding technology and division of labor to reject these values, and the Reachmen have had their own society since the Merethic Era)

Turd Helmets: You read that right ): Concept art for Nord helmets...made out of hardened turd.

Dreughs=Dragons: Not sure

C0DA’s: If you’re reading this i’m sure you’ve heard people say ‘well that’s my C0da’. Essentially C0DA was written by MK to encourage fans to contribute to the lore, in an open source format. C0DA and the games themselves establish multiple timelines exist, and this keeps everything canon, and everyone happy.

Alessia Created Dragons: Again, nothing found

Chair Stacking: A reference to the stacked chairs in House Dagoth keeps in Morrowind.

Thalmor worship Aldmeris: Seeing as how the thalmor seem equivalent/commentary on fascist groups, this isn’t surprising (whether this was the intent of the writers or not). One major characteristic of facist movements is an idea of returning to the past ‘when things were good’ (regardless if they actually were or not) and quasi-religion, both of which fall under the Thalmor worshiping Aldmeris.

Dreugh are Elves: Sermon 28 of the 36 sermons describes them as the ‘Altmer of the Sea’

Almalexia fucked everyone except Nerevar: The historical fiction books 2920, indicate that Almalexia and Vivec had a relationship at some point. Also, as @boethiah has theorized, Almalexia and Nerevar’s marriage may have been purely political. From What my beloved taught me: [about enemies] This, too: the bitch-whore of storm if she does not take your hand when you ask it. (bitch-whore of a storm referring to Almalexia)

Quantum Akaspirits: The only two links leading to this are broken, but it seems to be a made up word mocking someone

Tomorrowind: The site that hosts MK’s c0da, along with other people’s c0das. All the stories take place in the distant future.

Pocket Guide to the Empire Second Edition: Within the universe, the pocket guides are pieces of highly propagandistic writing, commissioned by emperors after Tiber Septim to promote the empire as a united nation. The second edition was never published in canon, apart from the republic of Hahd.

Numinatus pHD: A character written by MK to be a doctor who-like figure.

Jagar Tharn is Tsaesci: The closest thing i could find was a theory proposing Jagar Tharn was a vampire, based off several lines of dialogue within Arena. And the Tsaesci are thought to be vampires.

The Right Reaching: From the tsaesci origin myth, seems to be the urge to create. https://www.reddit.com/r/teslore/comments/1z73oz/whats_the_right_reaching/

Orgnum destroyed Aldmeris: I didn’t find much on this, but I assume it’s straight forward. After exile from Aldmeris, Orgnum may have retaliated and destroyed Aldmeris.

Giant Swirls: Don’t know

Skylamps: creatures native to Morrowind, described as big gas bags with spears for feet, that have similar dispositions to cliff racers and described as natural predators to dragons.

Almalexia-Underking Connection: In the Akaviri war, Almalexia summoned the Underking/Wulfharth, who was one of her enemies in the Battle of Red Mountain.

Keir-Jo: Author of the ‘Wild Elves’ and previously, a source for the book ‘Where were you when the dragon broke” this was later retconned

Amaranth anon Anu: The thought that Anu is the Godhead of the Elder Scrolls (as opposed to a Godhead dreaming Anu/Padomay)

CHIM by Skooma: Both a joke and possibly a nod to the thought that CHIM is just a drug induced hallucination

YR founded the 4E Thalmor: An anonymous altmer with the initials YR, who annotated the First Edition Pocket Guide. He mentions that his father is Thalmor and applauds his non-interventional policies which leads to the theory that he founded the Thalmor.

Vivec Killed Tiber septim: A brief comment from MK mentioning Vivec killed Tiber Septim once, but due to the nature of dragon breaks this unfortunately didn’t last.

Arius: (not anus, as i misread the first time) A god of fire in Arena

The Parliament of Craters: Mentioned in Sermon 19. It’s difficult to determine what this means due to the sermon’s metaphorical nature. Within context, it seems to be a parliament on the moon.

Lost Twil: mentioned in two MK texts, and an ESO loading screen calls a historic figure a ‘Duke of Twil’ indicating it’s a region or county of some sort.

Thalmor Time control: Possibly a reference to Mirror Logicians (see previous posts) or Dawn magic in the void nights

The Striking/Exact Egg cracking: In argonian myths, this is indicated by Vivec to be the potential to do change and create something new, up to new kalpas.

Wilderland: Mentioned in King Edward, seemingly another name for Valenwood

Sentient Thras: The Sload primarily use coral in their architecture. ESO has several varieties of coral in game, Land Coral (notably seen at Vivec’s Antlers and described as possibly sentient) and Sload Neural Tree. Both item descriptions seem to indicate the coral has some semblance of sentience, and it’s not much of a stretch to assume the continent of Thras may share this trait.

Sermon Zero: An obscure text by Douglas Goodwill, with several secrets within it. First, it’s a reference to the Rennes-le-Chateau hoax (a rabbit hole in of itself), secondly there are secret messages present within the text if you decipher it in the right ways. https://www.imperial-library.info/content/analysis-sermon-zero a link to the efforts to decipher it is here.

The Ebony listening frame: Mentioned in Sermon 9, it’s a metaphor for a vagina/oral sex

Hist-Jillian Wars: From Loveletter, mentioned briefly. A war in the 5th era between the hist and akatosh’s Jills.

#tes iceberg #long post #For a lot of these i'd advise not googling/looking into these things especially if they're on 4pleb/4chan #but that's just common sense

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