#since that would be the easiest way to tell if these really do EXIST

[constantcrying]

Ersatz, baby

m!shape-shifter!yandere x gn!reader. 4k words. yes. I'm so sorry.

TW: Obsession, possessive thoughts and behaviors, mentions of violence, gore, consumption of humans, idk how to tag it but the shape-shifter eats humans and has considered eating the reader so like heads up about that

Heeeeey

Somebody PLEASE tell me if the length of this piece is detrimental to the experience of reading it it’s like 4k words. Here’s something I’ve been kicking around for ages. Frankly I am shocked I have something at all after a year

“Odd couple” is the best way to describe the friendship between you and Sasha. You’re awkward and responsible and outwardly boring. He’s highly social, wild, and intriguing. You’re genuine to a fault. He’s an expert in facades; he is a facade. You’re human and he’s something utterly not.

The freak accident of affection between you two is...still hard for him to wrap his head around. It seems to be your fault. If you weren’t so pitifully earnest toward him he would have just gotten rid of you. You were aware of his true nature, and definitely scared of it, but you kept going out of your way to be the Good Roommate™, to play friends. He had to let you live, just to see what the fuck your deal is. Now it’s too late. Now he wants you around.

You are the only person in the world that he has shown his real body to.

Some of his victims have seen it, but you’re the first person he intended to see it. The decision was quiet, perhaps a little impulsive. A simple exchange of “What are you, Sasha?” and “I don’t know. Wanna see?” had you both going to your bedroom and locking the door.

For the first time in his life, his heart pounded as he shed his clothes. He almost didn’t want you to turn around and look. It might be better if you only knew the carefully curated version of him, the handsome appearance he painstakingly crafted for the easiest social life. Even though you already knew he wasn’t human and pretended it didn’t matter, what if you saw him now and knew with absolute certainty that you didn’t want to look at him ever again? He would have to swallow you whole. He wasn’t sure if he could do it.

Regardless he said, “turn around.”

He showed you the unvarnished form that he had inherited from his mother. To be frank: It’s a predator’s body. Worse that that, it’s a monster’s. There are features and junctures of him so uncanny it must hurt the logical mind to observe them. If you were ever looking for the perfect rebuttal to the existence of a loving God, look no further than his cruel mouth.

He crept onto you bed looking like this, towering over you, your bed-frame screaming to protest the weight. He’d have to cut you off at the source, if you were to scream. And though he could smell the fear wafting from your skin, could practically feel the constricting blood vessels and tightening muscles in you, you still asked him, “Hey, is it more comfortable? Do you prefer being like this?”

Honestly? He isn’t sure there’s a body that’s comfortable and natural to him anymore. He’s so used to a human state that anything else feels awkward, even when it’s easier to shift to. As you took his massive claws into your hands and examined them with gentle curiosity, though, he was struck by the warmth of you. It was a long time since anyone had really touched him. It might’ve been even longer for you, loner that you are. Which meant you were the only person who could understand the way he felt in that moment.

He flopped over next to you, letting out an embarrassing dog-like whine, but you just laughed sweetly, and shifted pillows around to accommodate his bigger size. His feet and tail still dangled awkwardly off the bed. “You can relax in here,” you said. “You’re always welcome, since you’re my friend.”

You rambled about your classes and professors until all the adrenaline had left your system. He didn’t say much in response, but you didn’t mind. After a while, you could almost meet his preternatural gaze. You even dozed off like this, with a monster beside you, you utter weirdo. He put his head closer to your chest and felt your sleeping breaths for hours, thinking that your throat would be butter-soft under his teeth.

Sasha knows very little about what he really wants. He’s not sure if he’ll stay in his major, or in school, or even in human society. He knows for certain, though, that he wants more time to study you. He wants just your quiet voice and humble body heat and the understanding that, whatever he is, it isn’t going to chase you away.

So you two keep doing this. Every few days he’ll skulk over to where you are and make room for himself, and the two of you will talk for hours. Sometimes he shifts. He doesn’t always want to, but you get more comfortable with him that way. You...seem more keen to pet him when he looks and acts like an animal, and he wants you to touch him so bad he’s worried he’ll start asking for it. Could he ever live it down, if he started asking to be coddled? No. So he wags his tail and butts his head against you like that isn’t it’s own special brand of pathetic.

It’s not like you’re one to judge, though. You’re just so happy to have a friend that comes to hang out with you. You’ve never had very many of those, but of course Sasha knows he’s extra special. There’s much he’s learned about the world from his strange perspective, and you’re always excited to listen to his stories.

You do understand that he needs to eat a lot. You see him clear out four bacon cheeseburgers as a snack once, and he cracks jokes about how breakfast was red bull and adderall, but you know that it’s just a part of his biology that works against him. So you go out of your way to cook more meat, and give him bigger portions than anyone else, ignoring the way your blatant favoritism must look to the other roommates and occasional visitors. He doesn’t bother explaining that your idea of a big meal is like his idea of an appetizer, and he never will.

He doesn’t talk about the people he eats, either. He’s starting to think you don’t realize he does that.

(If you really don’t know, if this is the way you treat him when you don’t know, there’s no fucking way he can tell you.)

As for you, you talk about your courses and your classmates. From the way you talk around it, he’s mostly figured out the sad shape of your childhood and he decides that’s why you’re so weird and naive.

Mostly, you tell him about your hobbies, and your taste in TV shows. That’s when something in you is unlocked, revealing you to be more witty and giggly than your initial impression. It’s gratifying to know most other people don’t discover that side of you, like being the only prospector who knows where gold is. You tell him about everything you used to watch and play with your best friend, back when she had time for you. He’s a little confused by just how fervently you love things, how you start to care one day and then never, ever stop.

He never did it before, but now the two of you watch garbage TV together. (You tried to invite your best friend to join you, but to Sasha’s satisfaction, she gave you that cringing sort of smile and told you she didn’t have time.) Every Friday comes a new episode of Crater County, this schlocky supernatural police procedural, so every Thursday night you ask him to watch it with you. He’s a busy man, of course, but he’ll fit it into his schedule since he knows you so look forward to it.

This Thursday you must have forgot.

Somehow, in the early morning on Friday, you slip away without Sasha noticing. He wakes up to the honks of geese and distant cars, and the ever-present hum of electricity. As he thinks of pestering you to make ham and eggs, just to watch you get annoyed, he notices the conspicuous lack of your heartbeat.

He knows better than to doubt his hearing. But he still goes into your room across the hall to find the bed unmade and unoccupied. He almost goes to check your pillow for warmth, only stopping when he realizes it’s...stupid, to do that. He stays in the doorway for a long moment, overly-conscious of your scent. Then he goes to pace in the empty kitchen.

It hadn’t occurred to you to say goodbye to him, or leave him a portion of breakfast as you usually do, so you must have been in a hurry. Distantly, he remembers your fast food job. You probably got called to cover for someone at the last minute. Even so, shouldn’t you have said something to him? So that he wouldn’t wonder? Because he’s—

—well, you called him your friend.

It bothers him the more he thinks about it, while he showers and gets coffee and goes to class. The two of you haven’t talked since Monday and it feels weird. You always tell him when you’re going out, so what happened? Where can he even find you?

Not that he would need to find you. Sasha isn’t clingy. Clingy is his ex making alt account after alt account to pester him on instagram with stupid questions like, “are you seriously trying to ghost me you asshole?” And Sasha isn’t doing that. He hasn’t even texted you yet, because you haven’t texted him, and you always text first. If you don’t go through with the trouble of asking for him, he absolutely will not bother coming.

You haven’t sent so much as a “hey!” in the last seventeen times that he’s checked, so. Guess you guys aren’t hanging out. Whatever. It’s not like he doesn’t have stuff to do. He’s behind on several classes, a habitual skipper, and there are four other people begging him to come out tonight. He hasn’t hunted in a while so he should probably do that too.

He should go and talk to other humans, re-acquire their speech patterns and body language. He should catch himself when he makes gestures you would make, stop himself from making them. That’s why he goes to lunch with a friend group he met last month, and fits in with them seamlessly—or, almost seamlessly. No one can say he isn’t a good talker, slick as oil and quick with comebacks, but he’s a little more sensitive than usual today. While he’s in the middle of charming them he slips up and says something you would say.

“Isn’t that a Crater County reference you just made?” One girl says to him, stopping the conversation cold. “I thought you hated nerdy stuff like that.”

Sasha laughs shortly. “What? Says who?”

“Says you. You laughed at someone’s Supernatural tattoo at the party, remember?”

“It was a fucking horrendous tattoo. And I don’t like Crater Country or whatever, either, I just know some lines because my,” his throat feels like a desert, but he continues, “my roommate is obsessed with that shit.”

They brush over that thought soon enough, shifting focus to upcoming concerts, but Sasha can’t get comfortable again. He feels like he forgot how eyes work, and his are going to slip and turn reptilian in the middle of this well-populated restaurant. He’s scared his hands are going to morph into paws. In the end, he excuses himself before he can finish his meal.

Since he’s still quite hungry, Sasha decides he’ll drop by the butcher and get a few pounds of beef chuck to tide him over until dark. He’ll go to that fancy shop with all the grass-fed cruelty-free organic stuff, because he’s passionate about the well-fare of livestock, and definitely not because it’s just down the street from your job.

But since he’s there, anyway, he’ll pass by and peek through the windows to see what’s happening there.

Your restaurant is packed. A sports team, or special event or something, has filled every table in sight, and more people queue up at the register. You’re boxing fries and passing them over to waiting customers’ trays. Even though you’ve got mountains of food to work through, you’re smiling. It takes only a few seconds to find out why, following the arc of your eye up to a man in the same uniform as you.

The guy is tall and average-looking, and he keeps leaning toward you to talk like he doesn’t know how to speak loudly even though he works in a goddamn kitchen. Sasha doesn’t know him by face, or by word of mouth, since you’ve never told him about a co-worker that can make you giggle so much.

Why hadn’t you told Sasha about the funniest man of the century, huh?

More importantly, why hadn’t you noticed the way this asshole was looking at you? Staring so intently, exaggerating his expressions, mirroring you. All the same tricks Sasha has used before but with none of the grace, and yet somehow you liked it from this guy when Sasha had seemed scary to you.

He just can’t understand. That wouldn’t be such a problem if he hadn’t believed that he did understand you, and the way your mind worked. You had said Sasha was your friend and you had sat in the truth with him, relieved to see him for what he truly was, and you had been asking after his health and his happiness, wasting nights with him, cooking for him, cuddling up with him, and now here you were forgetting about his existence with another friend that he didn’t know about.

Sasha has been cheated on by a partner in the past. They left him one night and came back in the wee hours smelling like a fresh shower, with traces of someone else’s odor still clinging to them. It hadn’t felt like anything, to know that they were sneaking behind his back. Not a betrayal, no sting or ache in the heart he supposedly had. He broke up with them a week after, and that, like all his other breakups, was simply annoying. Sasha had always felt like he wasn’t with any of the people he was with. He was watching them, and touching them, and living among them, but there was some kind of invisible barrier between him and all the world. So when they broke a connection, well, what was there to even break? How could he care?

And why did being cheated on come to mind when he saw you happy with some other guy?

Sasha would later find out that you pulled a twelve hour shift that day, and, pushover that you were, you didn’t take a break long enough to check your phone. But he doesn’t stay to watch you, he really couldn’t. A pit had formed in his stomach, some void, some black hole that he had to attend to.

He leaves you there in your job and your apparent fun, none the wiser, and goes to the butcher. He gets himself a rack of ribs, and a few pounds of steak, and a heart just because the shop had one on hand and they were happy to serve a customer with such deep pockets as him. He gets a couple of cheeseburgers for the ride home and finishes them in a few bites.

As soon as he knows your other roommates aren’t home, he tears into the paper packaging of the prepared meats and gorges himself over the kitchen sink, soiling his shirt with myoglobin. It all tastes like ash, disappearing into him the way so many things do. When he’s done, when every last shred of flesh and sliver of bone has been swallowed, his stomach growls.

He’s always been this empty. Maybe that was the thing you saw that made you so afraid upon first meeting him—the bottomless trench that he actually was.

You said he was your friend. You knew what he was and didn’t back away. But you have so little else in your life. If you gained anything more, real friends, real family, a lover, wouldn’t someone as hollow and alien as Sasha be easily discarded?

There’s nothing for it. He has to go and hunt now.

Your co-worker is pitifully easy to discover. By checking the likes on your posts, he finds the creep has been hounding you for three weeks now. His unmitigated social media addiction leaves the entirety of his existence splatter across the internet. Sasha learns and forgets his name. He knows exactly what place he’ll be at tonight, with whom, for how long. He shifts to look exactly like you, heads out and stops at the right street corner with a bulky gym bag, waiting.

It’s so easy. Sasha can play You, but this guy hardly deserves all that effort. It’s enough to show up magically with your face, even if your clothes and piercings seem out of place. All Sasha has to do is bat lashes and flash a smile that he has already memorized—your stupid sincere grin that had made you, like the sun, difficult to look at directly—and this idiot thinks the person in front of him is really you, out on the same night by coincidence. He’s happy to see you, and happier still that you want to go somewhere together. He lets Sasha take him by the hand, convinced that the two of you are going out for drinks through innocuously empty backstreets. It doesn’t strike him as weird that you’re so energetic and flirty all of a sudden. Asshole.

He at least has the decency to carry the bag, no doubt hoping to come off as a gentleman.

“Why a duffel bag, anyway?” He marvels.

“To change clothes before I go home, silly,” Sasha tells him, leading him further into the night.

It turns out the co-worker is deeply uncomfortable with silence. He cracks jokes that aren’t funny, to which Sasha politely chuckles for what is only ten minutes but feels like an hour.

“When you kept turning me down,” he says, predictably, “I was worried you had a boyfriend or something.”

“Why would I not tell you if I had a boyfriend?” Sasha croons in your voice, fighting with all his will-power to not crush your co-worker’s hand. They’re finally on a quiet street, between two condemned houses, where there are no cameras and no pedestrians.

“Haha, I don’t know. You’re like, really private. That roommate you talk about all the time? The one going to the same school? I honestly feel like I know more about her than I know about you.”

“You mean, ‘him’? Sasha?” Sasha blinks owlishly with your eyes, his heart melting a little when he imagines you gushing about him to other people.

The guy laughs nervously. “No, I mean Maya. Is Sasha another roommate? Have you mentioned her before?”

Really. Maya. That “best friend” who basically pretends you don’t exist, who takes up valuable real estate in your mind when some people who have spent months getting to know you don’t even get a text.

Sasha gives up on looking friendly.

Your co-worker has finally sensed something is off, wincing as he tugs his hand out of Sasha’s vice-grip. Stretching out his fingers, he asks, “Hey, how much farther ‘til we get there? I swear we’ve passed like, three bars already...”

He doesn’t get to say more because Sasha lets out his teeth and goes for the throat.

It must be said that a warm meal always beats a cold one, but other that that it’s a shitty fare, gristly and lacking in flavor. This guy’s blood, fresh from the veins, is flat and forgettable. Even the marrow of his bones disappoints. At least he didn’t put up a fight...though maybe some enrichment could have saved this boring dinner.

Sasha feels more bloated than full when it’s all over. He wipes down and changes into fresh clothes, stuffing all the bloody garments into the duffel bag. He still feels kinda gross, and considers a long, hot shower while picking muscle fibers from between his teeth.

Are you going to worry about your co-worker? Are you going to miss him? Will you cry if they identify his blood on clothes found in the dump? Will you even tell Sasha why you’re crying?

Sasha snaps out of his deep thoughts when his phone buzzes. The text from you reads:

hey! i forgot to ask, are you on for crater county tonight?

What the fuck. Renewed frustration flushes through his system. What is he, your backup plan? He has a life—actually, many more lives than you! You should know better than to screw around with his time. He shouldn’t even dignify your bullshit with a response, but he does anyway—

At a party

And your answer is,

oh ok

we’ll watch it some other time

have fun!

…

Stay safe ok! Call me if you need something

It’s such a low blow he has to wonder if you’re doing it on purpose: you’re telling him all the same things he’s heard you tell Maya when she blows you off. He can hear the disappointment and embarrassment in your voice, the way you assure her of your eternal affection and concern while she practically dismisses you. Once he’s imagining your face, then, all he wants in the world is to look at it.

He’s a good runner. He’s barely out of breath when he arrives home, tossing aside his sweaty hoodie and kicking off his shoes while he quietly closes the door behind him. The dishwasher is running. He can just make out the low moan of the central air system, and one lazy heart thumping in the living room.

For a moment you don’t notice that Sasha is there. He gets to watch you quietly. You’re languishing on the couch in your bedclothes, staring blankly at the No Signal screen on the TV with a bowl of popcorn untouched on the coffee table. It surprises him. He hasn’t seen you with an expression this dull in a while.

But it disappears in an instant.

“Sasha!” You bolt upright, your face brightening like the sky at dawn when you find him standing in the doorway. “Did the party end already?”

He doesn’t know what to say.

You glance back at the TV. “Um, I swear I wasn’t going to watch without you! I was just…”

“Were you waiting for me?” He asks.

Your expression flickers, betraying the anxiety in your eyes before you have the chance to look away. Why did he even bother to ask? You’re here for him, like a puppy waiting for their owner, and suddenly he’s flushed and queasy—no, it’s not sickness that he feels, it’s butterflies. He’s so delighted he feels dumb, all of his frustration and embarrassing angst vanishing in an instant because all he can think of is how sweet you are.

“Ah,” he laughs dryly. “I’m screwed.”

Before you even know to cry out, he’s thrown himself at you, arms coiling around your waist. The two of you fall back on the couch.

When you get your bearings, you scold him. “Sasha, don’t just do that! You scared me!”

He mumbles, “I had a bad day.”

“...you did?” Your left hand cups his head, almost protectively, and your right strokes his back. “What happened? You’re not hurt, right? Are you hungry? I have some stuff in the fridge—”

“Can we just stay like this?” He asks.

“U-um. Well...” You must be thinking of your other roommates, who could walk in on this scene and “misunderstand” the relationship you have with him. You don’t want to cause weird rumors or tension. But he wants you so much he can’t pretend to be above it anymore. He squeezes you just a little bit, betraying his own desperation, so you say tenderly, “Of course we can.”

It’s scary to be honest. Sasha considers it contrary to his nature. However, he has never in his life avoided adapting or transforming to get what he wants. If he has to bare himself again to endear himself to you, he’ll do it.

“You’re the best friend I have,” he admits, “and I didn’t see you all day, and I missed you.”

Your heart quickens. “Sasha…”

“I know I’m being clingy. I just can’t help it. Say you missed me too. Say I matter to you.”

“I did miss you,” you murmur, your smile bleeding into your voice. You pull him closer. “It feels wrong when we don’t talk all day. And I worry about you, you know. I never see you make a proper meal.”

“I like it better when you make it. So keep cooking for me. Please.”

“I was going to do that anyway,” you say.

His whole body thrums with satisfaction. You care about him so much he can feel it all the way through. He’s soaking up your warmth and savoring your smell, face pressed into your neck. Twisting his hands into your shirt, he finds that he resents your clothes. He even resents your flesh and bones for barring direct access to your heart. Right now, though, he’s almost content with a body in his grasp, a pulse fluttering under his lips.

God help him, he’s been starving for this.

[regallibellbright]

I MIGHT have found what you were talking about regarding Kiel. It wasn't a full-blown confession, but I JUST encountered something he'd never said before wherein he heavily implied and/or started to confess. HOWEVER, it was something along the lines of "I know you already have a lover, but I also… Oops, shouldn't say that!" The line was partially voiced (and not with generic voice clips) even! I was so shocked I talked to him again hoping he'd repeat it, but he instead switched to a generic dialogue about magic. And I sadly don't know if that one line was it or if he might have continued on another day, because this triggered on literally the last day of Dylas' marriage event for me, so I immediately married the next day. I doubt Kiel would confess even if he could when you're fully married to someone else.

Do you remember if you were dating someone else when Kiel confessed?

… Holy shit. Yeah, that sounds REALLY familiar and I was dating at least Dylas and Arthur (and I think also Leon?) when that happened. Kiel confessing was ultimately why I went “yeah, okay, I’ll date all the boys, I want to do Arc Three before I get married if I can anyway,” which is why it left such a firm impression on me as A Thing That Happened. (I also am pretty sure Doug had dialogue at least indicating a crush before I did anything - I semi-think I remember he confessed first as well, but it’s nowhere near as clear to me as Kiel’s since he was the last boy to be added what with the “can’t pass a certain point until Arc Two’s done,” so I’m not sure.)

I had also gotten Kiel’s mini-event(s?) before that point (the ones that don’t span multiple days) - those, at least, have some firm evidence of existing in that Houcha’s Youtube compilations of the different love interests’ events all include at least one mini event. More of them than not have two… but not Kiel or Doug, and I could swear I saw two for both of them. (I think Doug had one taking place in the store in addition to the one on the stairs? I can’t remember a second for Kiel in detail but I feel like there was one. I definitely got the color compatibility quiz, though, and it HAS been a decade. But if I checked Youtube more thoroughly at some time that’s not 4 AM I wouldn’t be shocked if I do find second mini-events for the others.)

Seriously, up until last year I assumed this was a totally normal part of gameplay that just didn’t happen to be on any of the Youtube compilations, and I’d ultimately restarted the game at least once pre-Special hoping to see what Arthur’s would be (since his whole complex about love made me figure a reverse confession would play our VERY differently than the usual.) I figured those mini-events were probably prerequisites (and that’d explain the rarity, since they’re not required for marriage, not formal Events and therefore not really talked about, but are still subject to the wonky event RNG, and by the time you activate them both and presumably get a love interest at high enough LP they’d want to confess to you, you’d probably confessed already. Pretty sure Kiel’s LP was at least a 9 or 10.) And then I never got this after my first playthrough despite getting mini-events, even if I didn’t get quite as far in on them, so when I brought it up and the universal reaction was “… do you not mean reverse proposals?” and bafflement at my belief this was a thing, I wondered if it wasn’t a glitch.

But I’d also wondered, once I realized just how rare this clearly had to be, if maybe they only happen once you’re dating at least one other person. I figured “more than one” seemed more likely, at that, since it’d be another thing that would seriously reduce the number of players who’d ever experience this and therefore make it more plausible no one else seemed to recognize it. (And if it already requires you to date one person, the devs probably assumed you’d be more receptive to the idea of dating another if they’re at least the third, rather than the second.) Maybe it really is necessary. At least for Kiel, and I’m way more certain it happened with him than Doug. Definitely something to test for now that I’m replaying.

Thank you for this information! Seriously I had all but convinced myself I’d imagined everything. (And if the line’s voiced, I should definitely try and record things going forward like I was originally playing.)

[amaranthineghost]

I'LL LET YOU GO IF THAT'S WHAT YOU WANT ( lando norris. )

lando norris x reader

a little over half a year later when the season ended, they haven't found their way back. At least not on purpose, but the universe knows better than them

authors note: I was thinking of making a happy ending, but not everything always ends up that way </3 after this, I'll work on two max imagines and then I'll see what I can do while I'm on spring break

part 1 found here

IT’S BEEN EIGHT MONTHS since she last spoke to him.

two hundred forty-three days since she last saw that sad look on his face in the rear-view mirror as she drove away from the past she half-wished was her future.

five thousand eight hundred thirty-two hours since she last felt his touch, his arms consoling and unwilling to let her go and yet she still left.

three hundred forty-nine thousand, nine hundred and twenty seconds since the peak of his performance at the beginning of the season. now she watched as he tried and failed to be what he once was. maybe not a winner, or a champion, but he’d had her, which was practically equal.

but now he had lost her.

now she watched as the season came to an end. poor performance after poor performance after poor performance where not all races ended in crossing the finish line.

she never stopped watching, yet she could never reach out, and neither would he. he was always going to be ready to accept her back into his life, yet he knew she needed time.

but she didn't know if she could do it again, though at the same time she kept eyeing his life in envy because part of her wished she could live the way he could without being bothered by the media. part of her was jealous he could live his entire life in front of a camera and be so nonchalant about it.

scrolling through his socials, they still followed each other and it caught people's attention. she read through countless tweets, theories and rumors of their relationship still carrying on behind the cameras, and though she partly wished it to be true, she hated that it wasn't. the fans still wished, and she would too.

the random appearances in the paddock had come to an end, unfortunate for the fans who loved whenever she’d show up in support of her boyfriend, turned ex.

because now all she did was stay within the confines of her apartment building, shielded from the possibility of running into lando. she couldn’t handle bumping into him when she still felt as fragile as glass. she felt like she would shatter if she saw him again, no matter how much she wanted him back.

but living in monaco means you're bound to run into someone from his circle of life.

it felt bittersweet because she wanted him back so badly, to have him hold her in his arms and tell her they’d make it work. but it’d never happened, and truthfully, she hoped it never would. because she knew that if she saw him, she wouldn’t go running back into his arms as if making it work again was the easiest option. because really, if she saw him, she would run, not towards him but away, and she dreaded the fact that he would let her.

he’d watch the love of his life run from him rather than to him and be totally fine with it. because he knew that when the time was right, she would find him again, or he would find her, and only then she wouldn’t run from him.

but he feared for the day that he would realize that she was never coming back to him. he feared for the day where he would realize he shouldn't have let her go.

and he hopes for the day, though it may never come, where she does find the right time to come back to him. he prays for the day where he would make the right choice he should've made the first time.

because in the infinite universes that are said to exist, even if she never returns in nearly every one, he hopes to live the one where she would.

but he knows that if there's a universe where she comes back, even after his idiocy of letting her go to begin with, there's also one where this could've been avoided all together. a universe where he didn't have to watch her pack her bags while shuddering with sobs.

a universe where he wouldn't have to go without her for eight months, where his performance improved when she attended grand prixs.

the one he'd rather live with her than without.

it was unsure when they would ever see each other again. they'd gone this long without seeing the other, who's to say they ever would?

it was chilly in the streets of monaco, contrast to the usually warm, sunny climate the area was known for. she wore a thick coat while she walked down the sidewalk, past the seasonal market with nothing more than her phone, wallet and tote bag.

she needed to get out, to think. she couldn't stand being trapped in the box of her apartment surrounded by nothing but reminders of him. not that it was a bad thing.

she couldn't take another second overanalyzing the helmet he had left for her. she knew it was part of his plan to have her back. to make her want more helmets dedicated to her, which he continued to do despite her not being with him. she'd be lying if she said his plan was failing.

the hoodie, probably tied into the same plan, covered in his damn cologne he knew she couldn't get enough of. it had faded over time, becoming replaced with the smell of her instead. she didn't know what to think of it.

she considered purchasing that same cologne again, drowning the fabric in its fragrance. it wouldn't be the same.

she felt like she could breathe easier with the winter air rather than the stale air of her apartment. sure, she could've stepped onto the balcony, but it was always nice to find a way out of her apartment complex.

hands stuffed in her pockets, she wandered around aimlessly at the shops that lined the streets and stalls set up to buy from.

riddled with things that caught her eye, she couldn't help but stop at nearly every stall. it took an incredible amount of self control to not buy everything she wanted. she didn't have lando by her side to buy everything.

this was her life now. she had a job that she could do from home and it paid her rent. it was enough to live off of while she completed her last years of school before she started a career for herself. tiny little trinkets seemed good in the moment, but she knew long-term that it’d eventually hurt her financially, and besides she didn’t have that much space in her apartment.

she didn’t know how much time had passed. everything was a blur as she mindlessly walked on. she hadn’t noticed when she bumped her shoulder into somebody’s chest, and she had immediately begun to apologize.

“i’m so sorry, i wasn’t looking where i was—lando?” she recognized the curly-haired guy in front of her as she stood there frozen.

“hey, long time no see,” he spoke slowly and warily, looking her up and down at the changes of her appearances that occurred over the last eight months.

“uh—what are you doing here?” she questioned, stuttering over her words just slightly as she looked at him tensely.

lando looked around with a brow raised, hands in his pockets while he answered, “uh, i live here?”

she nodded, “right.”

the air was awkward as they stood in a tense silence. people ushered around them, occasionally bumping into them. they hadn’t known what to say to each other because they weren’t expecting this impromptu meeting.

“how’ve you been?” he broke the silence.

she nodded again, “fine, and you? i saw that your season wasn’t too good.”

he grimaced softly at her words, “yeah,” he scratched the back of his neck, “just some technical issues.”

“right.”

the silence was back and more deafening than the first time, standing awkwardly looking at each other didn’t help.

again, he was the one to break it, “could i buy you a drink?”

“isn’t it a bit early for alcohol?” she questioned, looking at the brightness of the sky before her gaze settled back down at him with a weird look.

he scoffed, “i mean the coffee shop down the street,” his voice was a half chuckle as he began walking, leaving her to follow.

“well, you’re unpredictable these days,” she fell into step with him as they walked side by side in silence.

it took all of two minutes for them to arrive at the coffee shop lando had mentioned. they could smell the aroma from a ways away, the door left open to let in the cool breeze.

the shop was warm and cozy, most tables were occupied except for a few scattered around. she reached for her wallet to buy herself a coffee, but he quickly shut it down.

“it's my treat,” was all he said before he walked up to the counter with his card in hand to order as she took the two seater by the window, setting her bag down on the ground. she watched the world from where she sat, the people walking by.

groups of friends, pairs that weren’t quite at the stage of being a couple, or the single person walking by every so often. all without crossing paths. it seemed crazy to her how so much could change because of a stranger on the street.

looking back to where lando stood ordering, she wondered what her life would’ve been if they hadn’t met. they wouldn’t have traveled the world, stayed out late on rooftops, or partied in clubs despite her hesitancy. he wouldn’t have dedicated nearly his whole career to her because she was forever a piece of him.

she realized how much she had meant when she saw just how much of her he still kept. he wore shirts with printed pink bows, the one gold bracelet he wore among the silver and fan bracelets given to him by her and he never took it off. the way he styled his hair in the way she taught him, the matching rings they still wore, the references of her personality on his helmet for every race rather than a specific track, her name on his car.

her name on his car.

her name printed in pretty cursive across the top of his steering wheel and the halo for him to see.

he still managed to include her in his life despite her absence because he considered her his lucky charm. having reminders of her anywhere he could would always manage to boost his spirits, but only her presence would boost his performance.

the chair across from her pulled out with an uncomfortable scrape of the legs against the floor. she grimaced slightly, but it quickly disappeared when she refocused on the hand that slid a mug filled with hot coffee to her.

clearly they were going to be here a while, judging from the mug and not a to-go cup. she watched the steam swirl into the air as she softly blew on it while lando sat across from her with his beverage of choice. she also noticed the chocolate-chip cookie in a paper bag he held.

he remembered her love of sweets. she took a sip of her coffee. he remembered her order to the finest detail. he still remembered.

“thanks,” she spoke quietly before taking another small sip of the hot beverage. it slightly burned her tongue and throat as she drank, but she didn’t care to notice.

she was sitting across from lando norris, the one person she had been hoping to avoid this whole time, and now she’s sat with him at a coffee shop they used to frequent when they were dating.

“you’re welcome,” he muttered, his saddened eyes unmoving from her face, watching every expression of hers unfold. “so, how have you been?”

“you’ve already asked that,” she stated simply.

“i mean,” he started, leaning forward with his arms crossed against the table, “how have you really been? i don’t believe for a second that you’ve been fine when i‘m barely holdin’ it together.”

she sighed, taking another sip and grimacing at the burn, “it’s been difficult, but i know it was for the best that we broke up.”

he nodded in response, his fingers circling the rim of his mug as he stared into it.

she spoke up again, saying the words he dreaded to hear, “and i think it should stay that way.”

his shoulders visibly dropped and he bit his cheek before he looked back at her with colorless eyes, “but—” he began when she hastily cut him off.

“i need you to let me go,” her voice cracked as she spoke and tears filled her eyes as she avoided his gaze, “you have to let me let you go, lan.”

“please, don’t make me do this,” he begged, leaning forward again with a look that could make her change her mind in a second.

“please, don’t make this harder than it already is,” she shook her head as the tears began to fall, “in another universe, it might’ve been me and you, maybe the circumstances would've been in our favor, but not in this one.”

“it’s just right person, wrong life.”

“i’ll find you in our next lifetime then,” he promises, his eyes brimming with tears. he tried his best to hold back, for her, “i promise.” he tried to remain strong, for her.

“I know you will.” she said simply, smiling through her tears as she pursed her lips, sniffling as she played with her fingers. “y’know, i'll always be your number one supporter, lan. i'll still cheer for you, just from behind a screen. in that other life, i would come to your races.”

“but even in this one, i'll still celebrate your first win, your first championship. i'll vote you for driver of the day, even if you’re dead last.”

he chuckled sadly at the last part, the corner of his mouth twitching with a smile, “how will i know for sure you didn’t get bored of watching me race?” his hand reached across the table, his tan slightly faded and his rings cold.

she rolled her eyes softly, “you’ll know. i promise.” she laid her hand on his, the last somewhat intimate touch they’ll ever have with each other because after he watched her stand, pocketing the cookie he bought. he watched her through the window as she walked into the crowd as if their paths never met.

he watched with tears in his eyes, silently crying as he watched the love of his other life turn her back on him forever. he let her.

because if there was one thing he knew how to do, it was letting her go.

part of her wanted him to chase after her, wipe her mascara-stained tears just like that regretful day in their old apartment because part of her still wanted him in her life. she wished she could still go back sometimes.

he wished she would just come back. he wanted to experience life with her, he wanted to win with her, be a champion with her.

but he lived in the wrong universe, and he was unsure if he'd ever see her in this life again, in the way he wanted. they would bump shoulders on the street, looking longingly for just a second as they ushered by in a hurry. not looking back, but never forgetting how much they had meant to each other for the time they were together.

how crossing paths, even for what seemed like the shortest time to them, changed the trajectory of their lives forever. they would subconsciously look for qualities of each other in the people they moved onto. telling stories to their kids and grandkids about the other in regretful tones because they wished it was the kids they had together that they could tell the story of their relationship to.

because now they were just strangers, she was just a name he would forever keep on his car, and he was just an old lover turned stranger she would send flowers to after every podium and win until he would retire.

—

taglist (found here): @slut4lrh @taylorslovesswifties13 @leclercdream

proofread by @foreveralbon <333

[sweetestcaptainhughes]

What are you trying to say? - Trevor Zegras

Word Count - 3600

Author's Note - I 100 percent projected my own dysleixia hardcore into this. This was 100 percent written for the dyslexic girlies and learning disability girlies only. Also not me accidentally maybe becoming a Trevor girlie after writing this oh no. This one is by far my favorite segment.

Warnings - light angst but like it ends happy shocking for this page, who am I becoming???

Summary - In the talking stage with Trevor Zegras you're not sure how his joking personality will respond to your struggles that you have with being an adult with dyslexia, especially since it doesn't affect you how media expects it to.

Let me love you masterlist main masterlist

This isn’t something new to you, you’ve struggled your entire life with the fact that you're dyslexic. It’s a lot more complicated than people may recognize. Many people assume that it only comes up when you're trying to read something like a textbook or an article, and that when you’re finished with school it won’t really affect your daily life anymore but that’s far from the truth. In truth, being an adult with dyslexia affects you in little ways daily. From having difficulty knowing your left and right when given verbal directions, your spelling being terrible when texting others, mispronouncing certain words and being easily embarrassed when it gets pointed out, or worse sometimes the word is literally on the tip of your tongue you can even physically see in your brain but your mouth can’t form the proper sounds, how certain fonts you struggle to read vs others, or that black ink on white paper is the bane of your existence.  Although all of these are “little” things, it does impact the way you communicate with others. It does feel extremely frustrating sometimes feeling like people think that you're using your dyslexia as an “excuse” when in reality your brain is wired completely differently because of it. 

Since you first met Trevor and started talking to him, you had that fear you always do in the pit of your stomach, will he pick on you the first time that he truly can’t understand a text or the first time he hears you mispronounce a word despite years of speech therapy where you tried to but still you can’t pronounce correctly. Although, part of you knew that your fear was extremely irrational, part of you couldn’t shake the feeling that was until proven otherwise the jokester in Trevor would make a joke about something you truly couldn’t control. 

That is until today, when it happened it’s one of those rare days when you were driving and Trevor was in the passenger seat. His car was in the shop, and he needed a ride back from the arena to his apartment. Originally he was going to take an Uber but since you both already had plans after the morning skate you insisted on picking him up. 

“It’s easiest if you take this right up here to get back to my place.” He directs you without looking up from his phone,you tell him okay, turn on your left turn signal and get in the left lane. Trevor finally looks up from his phone while you're waiting at the red light for it to turn green to see you're in the wrong lane. 

“Sweetie?” asking in a questioning tone

“Hmmm” 

“This is the left lane. I told you to take a right.” Trevor says in a concerning tone as to how you were five traffic lanes away from where you needed to be. 

“sorry I thought you said ‘left’. I can make a u-turn?” Deciding in the moment you didn’t want to admit that you heard him correctly but processed the direction wrong, you offered as the traffic light finally turned green. 

“It’s alright we can just take the long way. Don’t worry about a u-turn.”  Not seeming to care at all that it will add an extra 10 minutes to the drive due to the mistake. 

As you continued driving you ended up making another wrong turn, Trevor put his left hand on your thigh and subconsiously rubbed small circles into skin to comfort your growing anxiety, he could feel this odd tension that was built up in the car. “Can you point please?” your voice barely over a whisper as you felt extremely embarrassed all of a sudden and started feeling overwhelmed all of a sudden. 

“Yeah Y/N/N I can do that, we could also switch places. I can drive you the rest of the way if you need it if you're feeling anxious all of a sudden.” Trevor was being really sweet, trying to fix the problem at hand thinking it was just some anxious thoughts and not your brain processing audible information incorrectly. 

“No, pointing is good.” Forcing yourself to look straight ahead because you don’t want to accidentally catch his eyes as he looks at you with a worried look. He squeezes your thigh in a comforting way and drops the topic. The rest of the ride felt quick as he pointed and said the direction you needed to go until you reached his apartment. Finding a parking spot in the garage you parked your car, as soon as you felt your foot on the brake, and your right hand pulled the gear in park, you leaned back automatically and sighed grateful you were done driving. Trevor still had his hand on your thigh, he turned his neck so that his head was also resting on the headrest. 

Trevor patiently waited until you opened your eyes, turning to him with a soft smile. “You ready?” you ask him, as you start to unbuckle your seatbelt. As you grab your purse from the back, your hand on the door handle. His hand that was on your thigh is gone and immediately pulls you by the wrist back into your seat. As he takes his other hand and gently places it on your cheek forcing you to look at him. 

“Can we talk about it?” His voice was steady, calm, confident but soft, almost as if he was scared of your reaction. 

Smiling a little wider now, in a split second you try to decide what you want to do. Do you want to tell a boy who you’ve only been casually talking to and hanging out with a handful of times - one of them being this current moment - about being dyslexic. Although it’s not that big of a deal in retrospect, it’s something that you can never take back once you said the words. Even though it’s something so simple and common no one ever looks at you the same again. Were you ready to tell Trevor, and see his face change permanently or did you want to live in ignorant bliss for a little longer. 

“I’m fine, it’s just when I drive somewhere new I like listening to the GPS and not a person telling me directions, it helps me focus better is all.” sheepishly you admit. 

Ignorant Bliss. That’s the choice you made. 

“Okay well next time, can you tell me that so I don’t have to watch you stress yourself out please?” His hand that was on your wrist, going down to your hand playing with your hand. Taking your hand that he was playing with, fully grasping his you squeeze his hand as a silent yes, and nod your head. He leans over the middle console and quickly peaks your lips as if it was a last minute impulse and he meant the cheek. “Thank you, let's go inside.” 

—-------------------------------

Living in ignorant bliss was great for a few weeks, until you started to actually like Trevor. Talking to a guy for a few months and it not going anywhere vs meeting someone and potentially seeing at least an exclusive relationship with them were two very different things. Knowing that you saw a relationship with him in the future meant it was only a matter of time before he found out that your dyslexic which again isn’t that big of a deal, but the fact that you also lied to him a few weeks ago. Not telling him is one thing, but lying when he asked why you were struggling to drive that day is a completely different act. 

Trying to put off the inevitable you tried to push the thought to the back of your mind. Somehow convincing yourself that if you didn’t think about it, then the problem would disappear he would never find out. I mean when you didn’t know how to spell a word while texting, you just spoke it into your phone. As far as grammar no one really had perfect grammar when texting including Trevor to be perfectly honest he probably didn’t even notice half the time. Plenty of people kept all their devices in dark mode for plenty of reasons, he had no reason to ask, although you did it because it helped your eyes stay focused on the words in front of you, not for the aesthetic. 

Even so, with all of these excuses as to why he wouldn’t notice you failed to remember that certain words you truly can’t pronounce the correct way no matter how hard you try. It all came crashing down tonight when you were at Trevor’s apartment cooking dinner for the both of you. Dinner was almost done at this point, when Trevor came behind you just now re-entering the kitchen after taking an expected call from his little sister. Trevor wrapped his arms around your waist, his head resting on top of your shoulder. 

“Everything okay?” you ask your curiosity getting the best of you, even though you know it’s none of your business. 

“Yeah she’s fine.” Pressing a kiss into where your jawline and neck meet. “smells good.” He compliments your cooking as he teases you one more time with a small nip with his teeth where he just kissed you, before pulling away and resting his head on your shoulder. 

Answering shyly, you let out a “thank you.”

“Anything I can help with?” asking genuinely although you're not sure if it’s to be kind or if it’s because he’s hungry but either way you’ll take it. As he slowly unwraps himself from you, getting ready to help you in any way you need. 

Without looking up from the chicken that you're grilling on the stove, trying to concentrate on the task at hand you answer him. “Yeah actually can you grab out the mellk from the fridge for the mashed potatoes.” Not even thinking twice about what you just said until you heard a chuckle coming from across the kitchen. 

“What babe?” standing in front of a now open fridge, he could have sworn you tried to say milk but botched the word so badly, it couldn’t have possibly been.

“the mellk” finally noticing what you asked for, knowing this is one of the words people can’t help but point out how you butcher it. 

“What are you trying to say?” he asked, truly confused now that he heard it twice. 

“M - il - k “ you repeat slowing down your mouth trying to force yourself to pronounce it properly but also not speak too slowly. Hoping that it's noticeable as you force your tongue to the roof of your mouth to make the “il” sound.  

A small chuckle leaves Trevor’s lips but it wasn’t a malicious way, it was as if he chuckled because he found it adorable. “Here's the milk baby.” walking back over to you and placing it on the empty counter space next to the bowl of steaming hot cooked potatoes. Taking the chicken off the hot burner you moved to the island to where the potatoes were. 

“Sorry” you mumble as he stands beside you, his hip resting on the side of the island. 

“For what?” His eyebrows frowned, his eyes focused the side of your face the only thing he could see. Focusing on the task at hand, you used the potato masher and mashed the potatoes. Opening the milk and adding a little along with some butter that you set out earlier. 

Feeling the rise of some anxiety in your stomach, hoping that you could procrastinate just a little longer on admitting that you didn’t tell him the whole truth. Deciding if now was the time or if you were gonna dig yourself in a bigger hole by wrapping yourself in a thicker web of tiny white lies. 

Finally turning your head to the side to face him and taking a deep breath. 

For good measure making one more deep breath before you barely utter the words, your nerves getting the better of you. “I lied.” 

Trevor’s face immediately changed from confusion and concern. In an instant it became shocking and almost hurt, that the girl he thought was actually going somewhere a month in, is admitting to lying to him. Not when he told her in the beginning that lying wasn’t something he tolerated after his ex lied to him for months and manipulated him. Not when he just told his little sister not even ten minutes ago on the phone that tonight he was gonna ask you to be his official girlfriend. “What are you talking about?” his voice cracking before he could even get the word out, quickly clearing his throat to cover up his own insecurities about the possible tension that could slowly be felt brewing in his kitchen. 

“Remember a few weeks, when I was driving you to your apartment from the stad-” 

“What the FUCK does that have to do with lying to me? When did you lie to me Y/N” Not only has Trevor never once raised his voice at you in a not joking way, but he’s never cursed at you, and his tone made you close your eyes and flinch at the impact. Immediately, seeing you flinch he sighed his hand going to lightly crease her arm closest to him. “When did you lie?” asking at a much softer tone than moments before. 

“I’m trying to explain.” Trevor could have sworn he felt his chest hurt when he heard you struggling to speak, as if you were trying to get yourself not to cry. “Please let me explain.” 

“Okay” he softly let out, as he squeezed your arm not sure if he was trying to comfort you or himself as he felt the possibility of you slipping through his fingers. 

“A few weeks ago when I drove you home.” finally turning her body fully turning to face him. “I lied, When you asked me what happened. I told you I need the GPS because I get overwhelmed.” Pausing to make sure that Trevor was following along, he nodded along, “I lied, sort of,” your voice picking up in speed with each word you uttered out  “I mean I do get overwhelmed while driving but it’s not because of that it’s not that I” 

“Baby please take a breath you're scaring me” His other arm is going to cup your cheek, even though he was mad before as he heard you fixated on driving him home a few weeks ago. He knew it couldn’t have possibly been any of the terrible ideas that popped into his head, at least Trevor hoped not.

 “I sometimes get my left and right confused.” Looking up trying to gauge his reaction, watching as one of his eyebrows go down, as if to say ‘that’s all.’ 

“Okay. So that was the lie? Everyone gets confused sometimes and makes mistakes baby it’s okay” His famous smile slowly takes over his face. 

“That’s the thing is it isn’t sometimes, it’s kind of a lot when I’m driving when someone is giving me directions without pointing, and there are other things too. I mean they're small but they still affect me almost daily and I just.” 

Deciding to take a breath because if you don’t you will be more likely to trip up your words or stutter. “I’m dyslexic and it’s not really how they describe the movies.” 

His smile dropped a little and you swear it felt as if your heart felt as if it had just dropped a hundred flights down the Empire State building. “Dyslexic. Like you mix up letters when reading?”

“Yeah but it’s more than that.”

“Okay. But why didn’t you tell me when it happened? Why did you say it’s because you get overwhelmed.” 

“Because I do get overwhelmed when I make dumb mistakes like that. Plus, everytime I tell someone they never look at me the same. A lot of times they are shocked, and they also sometimes judge me because how does it not affect me the way the media portrays it? Why do I mispronounce words, why can’t I tell my left and right when someone gives me a direction, why I can’t read maps to save my fucking life but yet if I don’t have my GPS running I’m bound to a wrong turn, why does sometimes my mind decide I either can’t come up with a word at all or I can physically see it but I can’t say it and I can’t spell it because I’m such a bad speller.” 

“Shhh” not trying to cut you off but also trying to get you to breathe. “So you didn’t tell me cause you were scared I would look at you differently? Or judge you when something you can’t control comes out at random times of the day? That’s why you told me to point instead of just saying it because you didn’t wanna tell me in fear?” Not sure his tone is showing remorse for you thinking that at all or hurting that you ever would think of him in that way. 

“Yeah.” you embarrassingly admit.

Trevor spent the rest of the night listening to you and how your brain was different due to your own personal experience with being a dyslexic. The next morning you found him reading an article about the effects of different lighting and how dark mode was the best for dyslexics and certain fonts were better than others. It made you chuckle as you told him you knew and that’s why your phone was permanently in dark mode.  That day, he changed all the settings on his tv’s in his entire apartment for dark mode, even all of his own personal devices. Finding it adorable that he went on a tangent when he found out certain apps don’t support dark mode and how he said it was discriminating. Finding it harder and harder for yourself to hide your soft smile as you watched him continue his rant, your heart swelling at how passionate he sounded. 

“I really like you, you know.” you admitted when he finally stopped complaining about how Mirosoft finally started supporting dark mode it was still ‘white paper’ on black ink so they really missed the whole point. 

“Oh yeah.” as he grabs you, pulling you towards him on the couch, tangling your legs with his. 

“Yup” popping the p for emphasis.

“I really like you too. Actually I was gonna ask you.. Wanna make this official and let me call you mine.” The blush was obvious on your face, immediately turning a light red shade, nodding your head he pulled you into a soft kiss. 

—---------------------------------------------

A few weeks later you were out to dinner with a few close friends and Trevor. Currently trying to tell a story about one of your new coworkers and how you didn’t like him but mid sentence you froze. Trevor had yet to see you freeze because the word you planned to say completely escaped you. Of course this wasn’t new to your friends as they saw the familiar signs, the way in which you paused, your lips pursed in a questioning way, your hand coming up and shaking knowing it was on the tip of your tongue and you just couldn’t think of it or couldn’t pronounce it. 

What your friends weren’t used to was seeing Trevor respond to it. His response to you struggling made all of them share a glance in approval of his small action. He took your shaking hand and slipped it into his own. Immediately your small flustered expression on your face turns to him. Your friends couldn’t hear what you were saying between yourselves if you were even talking at all, but they could see the care in Trevors eyes and how your frustration seemed to melt away.

“Hi” he whispers only for you to hear after a couple seconds pass. 

A smile breaks out on your face. “Hi” 

“What are you trying to say?” repeating the same sentence that he asked you weeks ago when you asked him to get the milk out the fridge. 

“I can’t think of it.” a sigh leaving your lips. 

“Describe it.” His forehead resting on yours as you look into his eyes. 

“You know, like a red flag.” 

“Like in dating? So a slang term?” 

“I think.” Pausing for a few seconds for your brian to catch up. “But I know it’s not called a red flag, but it’s like it, I think, like when someone does something and immediately you're like ew.” 

“An ick?” he softly suggests. Immediately your mouth forms into an o-shape in shock, making his mouth twitch into the slightest smile. Kissing his check quickly and whispering a quick ‘thanks’ and turning back to your friends. 

“Okay so like this new dude thinks he can come in and just boss all me and my other co-workers around. That’s not even the worst part like not only is he lowkey sexist, he literally only wears highwaters, immediate ick…” Trevor sat there half listening to your story with a huge smile on his face, hand on your thigh drawing patterns subconsciously as he sipped on his drink. He loves listening to you talk, how you get lost in telling stories and he’s happy he was able to help you instead of you pushing it to the side like you did all those months ago. 

That’s how it is from that night on, anytime you text him and he can’t understand it, or you can’t think of a word, or butcher the pronunciation; he will simply turn to you and ask “What are you trying to say?” 

[corellianhounds]

Redrafting The Phantom Menace

This is an informal essay/pitch meeting restructuring and changing The Phantom Menace to better utilize its characters and to make it a more compelling sequence of events.

Word Count: 5k

Art Credit: Doug Chiang

I think The Phantom Menace needs some of the biggest revisions of the prequels to set these characters up to be used better not just in the trilogy but in the film itself because not only is Obi-Wan mostly absent for all of Act II and nothing he does in that time affects the main plot on Tatooine, but Amidala’s presence doesn’t really add anything to it either. She learns a little about the culture on Tatooine and she meets Anakin and Shmi (which will be relevant in the next movie), but nothing she says or does affects the plot. Any of her protests against Qui-Gon don’t amount to anything since he’s the adult calling the shots, nothing in Act III is affected by their regard of one another, and she honestly could have just met Anakin on the ship on their return to Coruscant. Qui-Gon ends up being the main character of the movie, which I think was a mistake when Kenobi should have been the lens through which we saw the story unfold.

I don’t especially care for the slavery plot point to begin with because it doesn’t compel me as much as if Anakin and Shmi were just dirt poor. The slavery scenario feels like a way for the plot to keep Anakin and Shmi apart and for Shmi to remain destitute and it takes any real choice of the matter out of their situation. Of course she’s going to let Anakin go the second an opportunity like the one Qui-Gon’s offering falls out of the sky, who wouldn’t?

If she’s stuck in the cycle of poverty and had a choice in the matter of sending her extra set of hands away while she stays behind, that gives a little more meat to her character. Have her indebted to the Hutts or something, give her some astronomical loans she’s struggling to pay off, meaning everything they can spare just gets funneled directly into that debt so they have very little money or means to escape to a better life. What that sets up is Shmi being given the agency and genuine choice of either sending Anakin to be a Jedi because she wants him to have a better life, or keeping him there to help her work off the debt. The control chip won’t be keeping them tethered to that location and it keeps both Amidala and Qui-Gon from being complacent in leaving Shmi to be a slave.

If you wanted for Shmi and Anakin to be slaves, but wanted to solve some of the moral quandaries and give all of the characters more active roles in driving the story (and not just tell the audience “These are the circumstances, the Jedi can’t get involved with local matters, their hands are tied”) what you could have done was have Obi-Wan join Qui-Gon and Amidala on their trip instead of Jar Jar. Shmi explains the circumstances keeping them slaves, Obi-Wan can see Qui-Gon leaning towards doing something to help them, but because he’s more inclined towards following the rules than Qui-Gon is, Kenobi tells them honestly that they don’t have enough people to fight for the freedom of the slaves, and they’re already short on funds and already on a mission trying to save people on Naboo.

Kenobi’s also the one to also bring up a logical part of the Jedi Code: instead of saying they can’t interfere with local politics, he points out an obvious rule they would have in saying “The Jedi aren’t allowed to buy slaves either,” because yeah obviously the Jedi wouldn’t be allowed to do that. Even if that’s the easiest way to free somebody, the Jedi can’t do anything that would compromise other people’s faith in them, because yeah maybe you freed that person, but now that person either has to remain on the planet where that practice still exists and they could easily end up there again once you leave, OR you as the Jedi have to take them with you and hmmmmmmm seems pretty suspicious if you ask me, sounds like you just bought yourself your own slave.

Even dropping that person on a safe planet isn’t a great option because they would likely have no understanding of or foundation on that planet, and they especially wouldn’t have a support network of any kind. How much money, time, and resources do you have to devote to setting them up for success, now that you’ve gotten them out of a life of bondage? Completely uprooting yourself and starting from nothing in a completely new country alone is bad enough— Imagine an entirely separate planet. The alternative is obviously keeping that person with you and placing them under your own care and protection, but that’s exactly what makes you look like you bought a person to begin with and now we’re back to square one.

But, Amidala is there, and she’s a queen. She would likely have oodles of money at her disposal. Ignore the whole “Republic credits don’t spend out here” and say SHE offers to buy both Anakin and Shmi’s freedom, extending the offer by saying Anakin could train at the temple and Shmi could become a ladies maid or a consultant to the queen on Outer Rim territories, something Amidala even says she’s not familiar with. Both of them would be taken care of, Shmi would have a support network and a means of income and the freedom to leave at any time if she wished, nothing wrong with that.

In the end, however it happens, Shmi could be freed from being a slave (since that happens between this movie and Attack of the Clones anyway), but she makes the choice for herself to decline Amidala’s offer. Tatooine, though a harsh planet, is still her home and all she’s ever known. Being taken out of that environment and thrust into one of courtly nobility isn’t one a lot of people would be able to adapt to. Amidala finds a way to maintain communication so if there’s ever any trouble, Shmi has a contact who cares about her wellbeing, and she chooses for herself to remain behind and let Anakin go because that’s what is best for him. The characters are the ones making choices with their own objectives and reasonable enough justification for what they do instead of the circumstances moving them around.

There’s plenty of other ways the story would change by giving them those more active roles and choices. Obi-Wan and Anakin and Qui-Gon would all obviously have more of a relationship to build off of if they’re all there together, which will make Qui-Gon’s death more meaningful for the both of them and will introduce history that will carry over into Attack of the Clones whenever Anakin thinks Shmi might be in trouble. Amidala would have a more grounded interest and stronger connection to Shmi herself, and Anakin’s frustration with Obi-Wan concerning the rule about one’s personal attachments creates more effective interpersonal conflict when Anakin argues that she’s in danger. “Master, if you had the chance to prevent Qui-Gon’s death— If you’d known ahead of time that it would happen— Wouldn’t you have done whatever you could to stop it?”

If you cut down Act I enough (because you don’t really need the entire underwater sequence, Jar Jar was in exile up on land and you could have just had him lead them to the palace, which would have given us the chance to see the invasion affecting the citizens and common folk), Tatooine could have been the majority of Act I with the race being the climax. Make the Separatists more of an enemy force that’s actually intimidating and isn’t just mad about taxation of trade routes. Say they’ve been doing their own thing independent of the Republic for some time and don’t care about the legality of what they’re doing and have the Jedi discover the droid armies and the plot to take over Naboo because it’s a pacifist planet rich in whatever resources the Separatists want to take for themselves.

Cut out the Gungans and the underwater sequence and have whoever Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan meet on land take them to the Theed palace as a navigator directly. I don’t care for Jar Jar’s character and he doesn’t add anything to the film besides (weak) comic relief and a connection to the Gungan army at the end, which can easily be altered if you give Ahmed Best a better character just as himself, leading the Jedi through the forest to Theed. On the way there we see the recent havoc wreaked by the droid army and the effects the invasion is having on the people of Naboo, making the war feel a lot more real and immediate. Make Best’s people like the people of Rohan in Lord of the Rings who have survived as independent nomads and mounted woodland riders for centuries, not given as much support by the city-states and the capital but otherwise left to their own devices (setting them up to become the main cavalry/fighters at the end). They don’t have to be enemies of Theed, but they're not on great terms. They're the first people we see affected by the war, the destruction a lot more down to earth, showing us the severity of the Separatist’s actions and giving us a legitimate sense of danger and despair.

The three of them make it to Theed and manage to save the queen and her entourage. Amidala is introduced desperately trying to make contact with Palpatine in the Senate, the circumstances conveyed much more urgently than before, and she tells the Jedi that she’d been trying to contact them before the invasion even started. In the midst of the fighting Amidala makes a pointed effort to save Best’s character, the two of them making a connection as they move and showing both him and the audience that the queen does care about what happens to people who live beyond the city and palace walls. Qui-Gon convinces Amidala that they need to get her to Coruscant to plead their case on behalf of her people to the Senate. Amidala pleads for Best’s character to call upon the peoples living in the woods and to tell them that the capital city has been invaded and taken over too but that help is on the way. Amidala may be a pacifist, but this invasion shows her that her ideology won’t save her people because it doesn’t matter to the invaders whether you’ve done anything to “deserve” that oppression or not. Those who don’t live by the sword can still die by them.

If the Senate is too far removed from their corner of the galaxy to see that innocent people are being slaughtered and that the Separatists have waged a war that has isolated Naboo by severing their communications network, then she’s going to plead their case by taking it directly to Coruscant herself. Who’s to say theirs is the first planet the Separatists have done this to? What other occupations might they be unaware of?

The ship is still damaged upon their escape, forcing them to make an emergency landing on Tatooine. Amidala has some money with her, but her accounts have been frozen by the Separatists and she won’t be able to acquire more unless they manage to save Naboo and she’s restored as queen. The Jedi also have some money with them, but even together it’s not enough to buy the hyperdrive piece.

In this timeline we go with Kenobi being present with Qui-Gon and Padmé (still disguising herself as a handmaiden, Qui-Gon having a hunch as to who she is though Kenobi doesn’t know) and we cut out Watto and change the slavery circumstances to the Skywalkers being impoverished and indebted instead. City boy Kenobi, unfamiliar with the terrain or locals, accidentally bumps into whoever it is who tries to start a fight and Anakin jumps in and mediates for them. Qui-Gon thanks him and Anakin points out there’s a storm coming and takes them all back to his and his mom’s place, despite Kenobi’s protests that the mission takes precedence and the ‘queen’ has only her personal guard at the moment, they really should be finding the parts and getting back to the ship.

Over dinner the group discusses their prospects. Anakin was already planning to race in the Boonta Eve Classic to put the prize money towards finally paying off his mother’s debt. He and Shmi exchange a look, and he decides he wants to help them out of the goodness of his heart or whatever and in exchange for part of the money, Qui-Gon also offers him the chance to become a Jedi because he senses there’s something different about this kid. Kenobi protests, citing the fact the boy’s too old and they don’t have a solid reason to think he’s sensitive to the Force (regardless of what Shmi tells them about the circumstances of his birth). Have him be the skeptic providing the opinion the council would give, giving the conflict that will spur conversation between himself and Qui-Gon in order to provide exposition for the audience and prompt tension between himself and Anakin that’ll evolve as their relationship and reliance on one another in this movie progresses.

Now.

The consequence of Kenobi being present for all of this is that his and Anakin’s and Qui-Gon’s relationships are given focus and development, but it also means the ship is left without a Jedi guard.

Now let’s say Darth Maul finds the ship sooner while the main characters are occupied: Maul kidnaps Sabé, kills the rest of the guard, destroys the ship, and then he leaves. Qui-Gon, Kenobi, and Padmé hear what happens from R2, the only one who survives. Cut out whatever extraneous Watto junk happens and have this be what ups the stakes for the race because now they end up needing all of the winnings to buy a whole ship, not just to get a part. Amidala does the whole handmaiden reveal here and they realize that buys them a little time since Sabé signing the treaty will mean nothing when it comes out that she wasn’t actually the queen, but that will only be a possibility if they can provide Coruscant with further evidence of the Separatists’ plot and subjugation of the people.

Kenobi by now has figured out that the disturbance he’s been feeling in the force must have been the dark warrior who tracked their ship and stole the ‘queen,’ R2’s security footage getting them a good look of Maul. Kenobi and Qui-Gon confer and realize that if this guy is a Sith Lord, they HAVE to get back to Naboo to stop him at any cost. If he’s been the real power behind the Separatists this whole time, then losing Naboo to their control must be part of a larger scheme that will lead the Republic to war.

Now it comes back down to Anakin and Shmi. Either Anakin doesn’t want to give them the rest of the money, having wanted to provide for his mom too, and Shmi has to reassure him that she’ll be fine before he agrees to still participate in the race and give them the money, or Anakin’s unaware of the change in circumstances at all and Shmi’s the one to say they can have all of the winnings provided Qui-Gon gives her his word that Anakin will be guaranteed a better life being trained as a Jedi. Either way, Shmi’s the one in control of her decision to let Anakin go while she chooses to remain behind. Despite Amidala’s offer for Shmi to just come with them as part of her court or entourage, Shmi declines, knowing Anakin needs a clean break in order to dedicate himself to this new life and that her place was still there on Tatooine, and the Skywalkers are able to part ways with Anakin still missing his mom.

During the whole Tatooine sequence Kenobi has his doubts about Anakin, but during the race we see Anakin finally do some incredible feat that defies all logic, bringing down a rockslide to his advantage or controlling a dust storm or standing out on the bow of his speeder holding the now-damaged, motley assembly together with the invisible hold of the Force itself as he crosses the finish line. There needs to be a clear show of something unexplainable for both the audience and the other characters to see (Kenobi especially) that convinces us this kid has an exceptional command over the Force even untrained, not just that he’s a child prodigy when it comes to racing and mechanical ingenuity. Kenobi needs to be convinced that taking the kid is a good idea here because it provides the basis for their relationship moving forward and it gives ample reason for Anakin to be included in all of the further peril without any of the responsible characters logically being worried for his safety. (As it is in the movies, we never actually see Anakin do enough to warrant being considered “the Chosen One” since nothing he does isn’t something other trained experts of that skill could feasibly do. He needs to be visibly, uniquely powerful even for a Force-user.)

After the race they have to scramble to get transportation and head back to Naboo. Keep their communications interrupted so they can’t contact the Jedi council back on Coruscant to tell them about the invasion, the handmaiden switch, OR Anakin possibly being the Chosen One.

In this interim we see Maul on his ship discussing his success with Sidious over a holocall, along with the next steps of the plan. Sabé is locked in a holding cell, unbeknownst to Maul acting as a spy and gathering information, reading his lips and figuring out what conversation is being had though she can’t hear the voice of the person in the hood (because logically she’d be able to deduce that it’s Palpatine on the other end of the call). It’s obvious this mysterious agent doesn’t know she’s one of the handmaidens because otherwise she suspects she’d be dead, and it’s clear they need ‘the queen’ alive for something. Depending on how you want to play the scene and the characters, she could either remain stoically silent after he’s done talking to Sidious, taking everything in and observing serenely while environmental storytelling gives us the clues and info she’s picking up on, or Maul could monologue/antagonize her, or she could try to negotiate with him under the guise of the queen, subtly trying to figure out his motives, or she could just outright question him, reasoning that he’s not going to do anything to her since she’s needed alive (to which Maul could refuse to give up anything and instead easily threaten her once he decides she’s gotten too comfortable, maybe even giving us some visual foreshadowing/parallels to Anakin in Revenge of the Sith by using the Force to hold her by the throat and remind her that she need only arrive to Naboo alive, not unscathed.).

Have the Theed city battle happen as Act II, show more of the Separatists’ effect on the people they’re subjugating, and have Anakin involved on the ground instead of in the gunship. He ends up seeing/being involved in the Duel of the Fates, exhibiting an impressive display of the Force and throwing up a force field that blocks what would have been a fatal hit from Maul against the two Jedi. Anakin uses the Force to fling Darth Maul back, though it’s not enough to get him off his feet. Maul’s distracted for just a moment as his boots gain traction and he skids to a halt, locking eyes with the kid before he uses the Force to throw Anakin into the path of danger as Qui-Gon approaches. Obi-Wan diverts course to save Anakin and gets him out of the way, telling him to stay back as Maul continues to fight Qui-Gon. Anakin ends up separated when Obi-Wan jams the control for the force field corridor, cutting him off from the fight as Kenobi and Qui-Gon back Maul towards the reactor shaft together.

Anakin surveys the hangar and starts to climb up to the access catwalks overhead, trying to get to the Jedi to help, but as he finally reaches a position overlooking the room he realizes he’s too late. Darth Maul hits Qui-Gon and stabs him through the chest as Kenobi screams. This time however, Kenobi isn’t fast enough in the aftermath to do anything beyond wounding Maul, and when Maul is nearly hit by Anakin doing the equivalent of throwing a ship at him, he escapes.

Kenobi’s and Anakin’s shared story with Qui-Gon comes to a close as Qui-Gon dies and Kenobi tells Anakin he’ll apprentice him instead, and that he has strong evidence for the council that Anakin is the Chosen One. Cut back to Sabé relaying to Amidala through covert means that the dark warrior isn’t acting alone; he’s taking orders from somebody he calls Master, and even if he is killed, it’s likely he’s not the only one directing the war from the shadows. Have the Separatists win the battle and Naboo seemingly come under their control, the treaty signed by Sabé (the Separatists still unaware she’s a decoy).

Maul makes a break for it to head back to Coruscant, for the moment incapacitated and in no condition to fight Kenobi and Anakin together. Kenobi may be alive, but Maul’s mission to make sure the Separatists took Naboo and that the queen signed the treaty is complete, and he tells Sidious over a holocall that there’s a child with Kenobi who is strong in the Force and could be a threat to them…. Unless he can be turned to the dark side.

Kenobi and Anakin sneak around and meet up with Amidala and her remaining entourage and tell her that she has to come back to Coruscant with them because only her presence there while Sabé remains behind (never leaving the Separatists’ watch) will be what shows the Senate that the treaty is void. They scheme to go back to Coruscant with the still-undiscovered true queen; Amidala uses the handmaidens to disperse the message and ready an ambush with the help of Ahmed Best’s character and countrymen, telling those who remain behind not to fight back yet but to comply with the Separatists until she can provide the Senate with the proof of the truth.

The three of them with Amidala’s retinue return in stealth to Coruscant. Keep Amidala from telling Palpatine anything because maybe he was just as complacent as the rest of the senators who didn’t believe her when she voiced concerns of the Separatists setting up an invasion of the planet prior to the movie. Kenobi enlists the help of the council members, telling them what truly happened and that a Sith is behind the Separatists’ machinations, and they also provide video footage of the carnage they saw levied against the people of Theed. The council prompts Senator Organa to bring up the Naboo treaty during the Senate session. The Senate pulls up a holovid conference call with the Separatists and remaining Naboo politicians, Sabé among them, the Separatists showing their “proof” of being able to reach a “peaceful accord.”

And THEN Padmé Amidala steps forward in the Senate to reveal her true identity and the plot the Separatists had the whole time forcing who they thought was the queen to sign the treaty under extreme duress while their people died in the streets and countryside. There’s a collective gasp as her witnesses, including Obi-Wan, come forward with evidence to the veracity of that statement, and the Senate erupts in an uproar as the Separatists flounder on the call, having been caught in the act in front of an audience of thousands.

The holocall is cut short as we the audience see the handmaidens, the remaining guards, and Ahmed Best’s character and his people back on Naboo spring the ambush on the Separatists in the palace, and we see the tide change as the people of Naboo fight back together. Valorum tries to keep order but the longer he goes without taking decisive action the worse he starts to look, and Palpatine quickly steps in to propose a vote of no confidence against him— If Valorum isn’t willing to send arms and support to a pacifist planet clearly under military attack right now, what’s to say he’ll ever do it for anybody else there among them? At what point is it considered an act of war against the Republic, if not now? The people of the Senate begin to concur and Republic forces quickly rally support for Naboo, senators from neighboring planets ordering their fleets to converge on Naboo to lend aid and route the fleeing Separatists as an emergency meeting is called to force Chancellor Valorum to step down.

(Palpatine meanwhile is absolutely seething behind his fake shock and horror, and as soon as he’s able to reconvene out of the Senate chamber he comms Darth Maul like “YOU ABSOLUTE #!$%*&@ IDIOT YOU GOT THE WRONG GIRL”)

Maul’s coming to several conclusions at once with a metric ton of dread flash-fried by anger and they both know they can’t do anything to Amidala OR the politicians back home on Naboo while all eyes are turned that way, BUT Maul realizes that this was all Kenobi’s fault and— probably knowing Palpatine's going to wring his neck if he ever gets his hands on him— he goes rogue in order to get his revenge against Kenobi and try to preserve his standing with his master. The climax of Act III comes down to a much more publicly visible and hard-hitting fight between Darth Maul and Kenobi before Anakin (who’s been with Obi-Wan the whole time and was supposed to be in hiding) uses the Force again to shield Obi-Wan right as it looks like Darth Maul is about to strike the killing blow. Maul’s saber bounces off the shield and in shock he turns to see Anakin, who he recognizes as the kid from the Theed palace who thwarted him then too. Obi-Wan shouts “No!” as Maul charges, and Anakin scrambles away and throws up a shield in front of himself that Maul strikes once, twice, a third time before it shatters, each side of the Force colliding, causing an explosive blast that takes out half of the tower floor with it and rendering Anakin unconscious.

Just as Maul rears back to kill Anakin, his saber meets that of Obi-Wan, and Obi-Wan pushes him back, determined and revitalized.

The fight ends dramatically on top of one of the skywalks of Coruscant, Jedi and Sith locked in battle as word quickly starts to travel and people start racing up to the tower. Obi-Wan succeeds in cutting Maul’s saber apart before ultimately stabbing him just as Maul had done to Qui-Gon, sending him off the overbridge to his death.

Naboo is shown winning against the invasion thanks to help from the Republic, and the people of Theed and the surrounding forests are saved. Ahmed Best’s character and Sabé are both hailed as victors, the two of them standing united with their people together after a successful ambush and reclamation of Naboo. Kenobi’s a veritable hero, receiving praise from both politicians and Jedi for discovering and eliminating the Sith. The Jedi council manage to frame Maul’s presence as Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan “mission” this whole time, and Kenobi’s valor and strategy award him the rank of Knight. The council is still wary of Anakin, but he’s been shown to have had a surprising awareness and command of the Force, and if he’s capable of that without training, they can’t let him continue to live as a civilian with that amount of power unchecked, agreeing that the boy needs supervision, guidance, and accountability. It doesn’t help that Obi-Wan’s determined to keep Anakin as his Padawan now, especially since training him was Qui-Gon’s dying wish.

Sidious manages to frame Maul for the loss of Naboo to the Separatists, telling them that he has been “dealt with.” Though Darth Maul is defeated and the public’s faith in the Jedi remains intact, the Jedi council is deeply troubled by the apparent return of the Sith, and they confer with Kenobi, Anakin, Sabé and Amidala (who are unfortunately accompanied by Senator Palpatine) about what knowledge they have, knowing they need to keep word of a potential second Sith under wraps for the public’s well-being and peace of mind. The fact the Separatists have been revealed to have massive covert operations taking over smaller planets with the aid of droid armies for a while now is shocking enough as it is; they can’t afford widespread panic over the possibility of this being orchestrated by a Sith, let alone more than one.

The result of those decisions, as well as the very public fight Kenobi had with Maul, means that the Jedi are now inextricably bound to serve in the war, still unsure of how they couldn’t have sensed the Sith to begin with, and it sets up Kenobi to wonder if perhaps the Jedi involvement in the war and their deaths at the end of it are his fault for being too rash and ready to fight. It’ll drive his character to mature and become more of a negotiator, and try to keep Anakin from choosing to act without thinking moving forward. Though both Kenobi and Amidala have saved people in this movie, it was done through actions that forced them to compromise their anti-war ideologies, and those irreversible actions will directly lead people who were once pacifists and protectors into war.

That plotline forces the characters together more organically and still covers the same amount of ground and achieves the same result, but utilizes the characters better and creates more of a sense of urgency than before. The consequence of these changes is that Palpatine will later ascend as Supreme Chancellor with sympathy from a majority of the Senate, meaning the Grand Army of the Republic is formed between this movie and the next, setting up Attack of the Clones to be happening in the midst of the war. Sidious has contingency plans upon contingency plans; he still has Count Dooku in his back pocket, still has the Separatists on his side, and now he has his sights set on the young prodigy from Tatooine who seems verrrrrryy interesting to him. He can misdirect the Jedi’s suspicions of Sith towards Dooku and General Grievous, should they end up being discovered, still keeping all eyes off of himself. Palpatine also has a much stronger motivation to assassinate Amidala after this since she’s proven to be more capable than he realized and isn’t just a political pawn he can manipulate. She’s unpredictable, and she needs to be eliminated.

[angellesword]

BAGGAGE | JJK (10)

Summary: Drowning in debt and blood, Jeon Jungkook knows he's better off alone, lest he brings people down with him.

But one drunken night changes everything.

In a blink of an eye, Jungkook found himself drowning not only in debt and blood, but also in dirty diapers and judgmental stares from you, a.k.a his long-lost love and the guardian of the son he didn't even know existed.

Genre and warnings: best friends to lovers, co-parenting, idiots in love, slow burn—really slow burn mutual pining, angst, fluff, implied smut, kissing, minor character death, slight getting back together, cursing, blood, stabbing, loan sharks, OC cusses excessively so watch out.

Pairing: dad! Jungkook x adoptive mom!Reader

Word Count: 5.6k

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Baggage Chapter List

*****

Present, 2023:

Your tensed shoulders indicated you were still angry after leaving Jungkook's apartment. You knew it would be unwise to meet Jang Min, especially Soobin, in this condition, so you decided to cool down by walking in a park.

According to Yoongi, your therapist, misplaced anger was something you were prone to doing. It was probably triggered when Jisoo encouraged you to vent your hurt to her after what the people in the club had done to you.

Your Jisoo-unnie was less threatening. You could hurt her, but she wouldn't budge. In fact, she'd tell you to hurt her more—this horrifying realization baffled Yoongi, though he had to remain calm, mainly because you seemed to be having a panic attack.

You will never forget that day. It was your third appointment with Dr. Yoongi. Verlaine accompanied you, but he stayed in the other room of the clinic as each session was exclusive for the doctor and patient only. Besides, Verlaine had to look after your nephew.

Soobin was a few months old at this time. It hadn't been long since his mother passed. You were mourning, but your quiet resentment was gnawing at you. You hated that you were grieving your traitor of a sister.

Yoongi tiptoed at first, validating your fury. Unfortunately, you were distraught. You were blind and deaf by any information that did not benefit you.

"She told me they were lonely." You reiterated to your therapist Jisoo's reason; the veins in your neck throbbed painfully. "She might as well just stabbed me in the fucking heart. How could she say that? How could they be so cruel to me!?"

Yoongi sighed softly and stopped writing bullshit in his notebook. Ideals were what the therapist said he liked to write. He would give these 'ideals' to his patients so they could follow them. You thought it was bullshit, mainly because you felt like Yoongi was not on your side.

"You'll be surprised at how lonely people deal with things. Sometimes, they hurt people close to them."

"But why!" You kicked the chair. You were tired of asking these questions—none of them gave you the answer you needed. "Why would they hurt me? What did I ever do to them!?"

"Nothing." Yoongi looked at you, breathing in and out until he coaxed you to do the same. Your chest tightened as you inhaled. "You're not at fault here, but this isn't about you either. It's about them. Decisions are not always made to be justifiable or morally correct. Sometimes, they are simply made. It's a hard pill to swallow, but their choices are for what they want and feel— not for you."

Jisoo and Jungkook didn't have it in them to think about you in their most desperate and vulnerable moment. Lonely people just wanted to escape, and sometimes, they chose the easiest way because their hardening hearts and noisy minds were already challenging to deal with. The night of their betrayal was the easiest time to relieve their pain because Jisoo and Jungkook understood each other. What did you even know about fucked up decisions and sickness when all your life, you had been sailing the smoothest path?

"It's not fair, I agree with you. However, you cannot get better if you're constantly pinning the blame on them. They hurt you; it was their choice. Now, it's up to you if you want to heal or live in misery. But you can reclaim your power. You can decide for yourself—the decision they cannot and did not do for you."

But you shook your head, ears tightly shut.

"I don't care what you say. It's not an excuse to hurt me. Fuck them—and fuck you for defending them and putting the burden on me!" You wanted to slam Yoongi against the wall.

The wall—

Your eyes were wide. On the other side of the wall was Soobin.

"The kid..." You thought, voice grave. "He shouldn't be alive! He's proof of their betrayal to me! My sister chose him instead of chemotherapy! She wanted to die to relieve herself from the guilt of hurting me!"

You stood up, turning to face the door. Yoongi was alarmed. He seized your wrist.

"Where are you going?"

Soobin. Your eyes seemed to say. The kid was an extension of those who had hurt you--

"You're not planning to hurt your nephew, are you?"

You gasped, knees turning weak. You turned your head to look at your therapist, horror painting your face.

"No." You denied it, panicked. "No. No. Please, don't. I didn't mean to."

Yoongi read your mind. He knew your dark thoughts. No.

"Please, Doc. You have to believe me...” You hiccupped. “I...I wasn't thinking straight. I'm not actually going to hurt him. Please. I love Soobin. I am just lonely."

Lonely.

You felt like you were hit by a fast-moving track, dragging your bloody body until your heart stopped.

No. This wasn't how you were supposed to understand Yoongi's point. It was too cruel. 

'It's not about you.' Yoongi's words echoed in your mind. You felt as if someone put a pillow on your face, asphyxiating you.

"Hey, are you okay? Are you--!!" The therapist exclaimed, but you had no idea what happened next. You passed out because of stress. When you woke up, you were already back in your apartment. Verlaine remained by your side, waiting for you to return to your senses.

The first thing you did when you woke up was look for Soobin. You were hysterical, thinking that Yoongi diagnosed you as an insane person and, hence, not fit to care for Soobin. Your therapist had ideals, but he wasn’t mean. Verlaine told you that he and Yoongi made a deal.

"You have to get better and see your therapist regularly. You're too stressed. You can't take care of Soobin in this condition. I'll just stay with you for a while. Is that all right?"

You nodded vigorously. You didn't care what the conditions were. You only wanted Soobin to stay with you, so for years, you diligently took care of your mental health until you were deemed fit to be Soobin's guardian.

You thought you needed time alone before you saw Soobin today. You were afraid you’d had the thought of hurting your neph—son just like before. Jungkook brought out the worst in you, and confronting him today messed up your mind.

You stayed in the park for an hour before returning to your apartment. You flagged down a cab, calling Lee Sung on your way so he could bring Soobin back to your home. You couldn't stay with Jang Min forever. You know your boyfriend was a busy man, too.

Naturally, Soobin and Lee Sung reached your apartment first since Jang Min's home was only a few blocks away from yours. Soobin was already sleeping when you arrived.

"Sleeping again?" Your forehead creased, a frown etched on your lips. However, Lee Sung simply shrugged.

"I told you already. Your son loves boss a lot. He ran around while you were..." Lee Sung paused and eyed you from head to toe. There's a sly smirk on his face. "Out."

You disliked how Lee Sung looked at you but didn't comment. As Jang Min told him everything, Lee Sung probably knew where you went; he was Jang Min’s right hand, after all. In your defense, though, you didn't do anything wrong. Jungkook only pissed you off.

"Then you can go now." You ended the conversation at once. You were almost pushing Lee Sung out of the door. "I'll contact you if I need you. Please look after Jang Min-ssi for a while."

Jang Min had a business trip abroad. You wouldn't see him for weeks or months. You didn't mind, as you and Jang Min had been long-distance for the majority of your relationship. Jang Min frequented in Russia more.

You thought your life was okay as long as Soobin was by your side. Thankfully, Lee Sung didn't disgrace your home by staying too long.

It was still a bit early, yet your energy had been sucked up fully. You picked up Soobin, gently moving his tiny body into your room so you could sleep beside him.

Your son wasn't at risk of bed-sharing with you anymore. You used to be driven by paranoia; you took caring for Soobin seriously, and any danger for a child scared you senseless. It took you long before you started feeding your son solid food for fear of choking. Soobin was well-behaved, though. He listened to your advice to chew his food properly and slowly. (Save for when you had crab spring rolls because Soobin would inhale that food in seconds.)

Like father, like son.

You looked at Soobin's sleeping form. Your heart throbbed painfully in your chest. I love you like my own. Tears welled up in your eyes as you embraced your kid. Don't betray me like your parents did.

*** Jungkook was left in his shit hole of an apartment alone. The loud slam of the door rang in his ears, vibrating straight in his heart. Your retreating figure reminded him of what he couldn't have.

Jungkook mumbled your name pitifully. He knew. He knew he had long lost the right to cling to you. Gone were the days he could claim you with a choker and playfully call you mine.

Jungkook called your name again. His voice held a tremor as he desperately reached out his hand toward the door.

Jungkook felt tears trickling down his cheeks, ignoring his long streak of holding it together. His life had been so fucked up that he didn't dare wish for someone like you to stay with him.

But Jungkook can't. His heart felt as if there was a gaping hole that only you could fill.

“No…” Jungkook couldn't take it anymore. Despite his aching wound, he barged out of his home, running after you.

It didn't matter if you decided to fill the hole in Jungkook's heart with rough sand or a cold mix of asphalt. He wouldn't dare whine at your rough insult or stone-cold face—he would accept anything, but not you leaving.

Your encounter today was like a huge slap in Jungkook's face—how he made everything worse for you. It was a sudden realization. Jungkook wasn't even sure if he would think the same later, but one thing was for sure: Jungkook wanted to catch up to you now.

He did.

Jungkook watched you walk aimlessly at the park. It took you an hour—or maybe more—before you hailed a cab. Jungkook didn't mind, realizing how much he craved looking at you—even from afar.

Afar.

You got inside the cab, which, in just a few seconds, was already far from where Jungkook was.

Jungkook panicked, hand digging into his pants pocket to see if he had money left.

He did not.

Of course, he didn't have anything with him.

Jungkook mumbled your name again. The desperation colored his face once more. He ignored his wounds for the nth time, choosing to chase the cab instead. Unfortunately, Jungkook's speed was no match for a vehicle or a normal human being. But he didn't stop. He ran like a lunatic as his eyes darted on street signs.

"Imperial Gardens," Jungkook murmured as he picked up the speed. "26006..."

Jungkook shook his head violently, feeling the cold air hit his face. No. He memorized your address wrong.

"2200..." He recalled and smacked his head—as if doing so would make him remember.

"R-Royal Heights. Incheon...Ugh." Jungkook's body was still weak. His steps halted to check if his wounds were bleeding. Thankfully, they weren't. It gave Jungkook the dumb idea to continue running, praying to Gods he didn't believe in to make him remember your address right.

The Gods had been terrible to him before, but not this time. It took him a while, but he successfully reached your apartment. It had your surname on a signage plastered on your front door. The place was probably twenty times bigger than Jungkook's rented room, making his hand shake. The confidence he mustered earlier faded in the face of your big home.

She was doing so well. Jungkook licked his lips. What if I just ruin her?

The other part of his brain frowned at him, 'If she's doing well, then why would she come to you?'

For a while, two sides of Jungkook's brain argued. He didn't know where to listen. All he knew was his eyes were heavy and his wounds, despite not bleeding, hurt.

Jungkook blinked. Sweat cascaded his forehead down to his neck. It was hot, and he felt like throwing up.

He gently flopped down the ground, leaning against your massive front door.

It's okay. He told himself despite his clenching heart. It's not okay. He's afraid. He was so scared you would open the door and realize you didn't want him in your life anymore.

It's okay. Jungkook told himself, and the door opened just like in his imagination.

Jungkook heard a gasp, followed by a hand gripping his shoulder.

"Jungkook? What are you doing here? What the fuck—"

It was clearly your voice, but Jungkook was so out of it. He was awake, but he couldn't focus on anything other than his body pain.

"You're sweating." You helped him get to his feet. "What are you—" Then you snickered when you realized what had happened. "You—!! Did you run here!?"

You told me to go to you. Jungkook thought, but he only bit his quivering lip. You gave me a chance.

"Fuck. I don't know what I'm going to do with you!" You cursed, yet you anchored Jungkook's hand into your shoulder, gently guiding him inside your massive home.

You helped Jungkook sit on the couch. Jungkook groaned, eyes clamping shut. He was in too much pain. His wounds had been aggravated. Again.

You shook your head in disappointment as you fished your phone out of your pocket to call for help.

"Hold it." You said before carding your fingers through Jungkook's sweaty hair. "Help will be here in a while—Jungkook? Are you listening?"

Jungkook could only answer with a nod. You let out a breath. This is enough. At least he didn't pass out because of pain.

You were able to book an emergency appointment with a home doctor. He lived around the area, so it didn't take him long to arrive. He examined Jungkook, and contrary to what the nurses said, the doctor said it was okay to stay home as long as the patient didn't strain himself and followed a strict diet schedule.

The doctor cleaned Jungkook's wound and prescribed him medicine (which you immediately had someone deliver.) As usual, you took care of everything while Jungkook slept. He was barely making it while the doctor talked to him.

Doctor Ace had to turn to you instead. "You've listed what should and shouldn't be done with him, right? I trust you can follow it. I'll be back tomorrow to check up on him. For now, just let him rest."

"Thank you, Doc." You listened to some more of the doctor's advice before escorting him out of your home. Afterward, you returned to the living room to look at Jungkook resentfully.

You wanted to hit him, but in the end, you simply sighed and let Jungkook off.

Shitty bastard.

****

Jungkook felt like he was stuck in a nightmare. He felt his whole body ache after exhausting himself to get to you.

It seemed like Jungkook always had to run. Because if he didn't, those people would catch up to him—insistent on making him miserable by first dragging his body to the ground.

"Don't make trouble." Someone would press his face to the floor until he couldn't breathe properly, and then he'd feel that person grabbing his hand, his fingertips caressing Jungkook's wrist. "It'll hurt more if you resist."

It hurt at first— but soon, it only tickled. Jungkook thought the troubling memories would fade over time, yet they still haunt him while he was asleep. The nightmare persisted, making it hard for him to breathe.

The ticklish feeling from before could be felt even now. Jungkook struggled. He shook his head and forced himself to wake up.

It's a nightmare. He reminded himself. The feeling of someone grabbing his wrist and forcing him into something happened years before. It might haunt him in his sleep, but it couldn't—wouldn't hurt him if he woke up.

So he did.

"Nggh—!!" Jungkook jolted awake. The ticklish feeling was gone, yet he felt his body hurt. He blinked and looked at his wound, realizing that his stomach was covered in a bandage.

Right. He had been stabbed.

Jungkook rapidly became aware of his surroundings. He stupidly chased after you and made his barely healed wound worse.

Now he was—

Jungkook looked around.

—He was at your house.

Jungkook bit his lower lip, hands clammy. He was safe. He was at your house. Lee Sung didn't know this place. Those men in his nightmare couldn't reach him here.

It was going to be okay. Jungkook tried to convince himself. Sadly, his hands wouldn't stop shaking.

He grabbed his wrist, trying to steady it, when he felt a wet feeling in his hand.

Jungkook looked at the back of his palm. His eyes shrunk as he studied his hand. Through his peripheral vision, he saw a small figure sitting on the floor beside the couch where he sat.

Jungkook finally focused his gaze on that small figure.

Soobin.

Considering that he was in your house, it shouldn't come as a surprise. Nonetheless, Jungkook still felt as if the air had been robbed from his lungs the second he laid his eyes on the kid.

Soobin was sitting obediently on the floor while holding a paintbrush—this explained the wetness in Jungkook's hand and the ticklish feeling he thought was induced by his nightmare.

As it turned out, Soobin was painting something on the back of Jungkook's hand.

"Heart!" Soobin suddenly spoke and gently grasped Jungkook's hand to point at his painting there.

Jungkook's mouth parted slightly, heart skipping a beat when he felt Soobin's soft hand grazing his skin. Yeah. This is different from the touch of those men before.

Soobin was a harmless child who liked showing off his heart painting, which looked like a simple red-colored circle.

"D'ya like it?" The child asked innocently; his touch remained gentle as he remembered your reminder. You told Soobin not to bother Jungkook and just keep him company.

Usually, you would not impose such a task on a small child, especially on Soobin. However, Jungkook kept his hold on you even when he was asleep. He kept murmuring, ‘Do not leave me,’ so you had no choice but to turn to your son.

You had to cook dinner on the other side of the room while Jungkook slept, and Soobin silently held his hand and painted hearts on it.

There were two hearts. They were horribly painted, but Jungkook smiled—a genuine smile he hadn't made in years.

"Of course, I like it." His large hand moved to ruffle Soobin's hair. They were soft, partly because he was a kid, and the other reason was because you took good care of your son.

"Am happy!" Soobin giggled and attempted to paint another heart on his father's hand. Meanwhile, Jungkook fell into a stupor, his heart faintly aching from the memory that flooded his brain.

Back then, Jungkook excitedly ran toward your apartment. He knocked like usual, excitement whirling at the pit of his stomach as he waited for you to open the door.

You just swung the door open when Jungkook came near you. You two were chest to chest.

"Hey, look! I got these today!" Little Jungkook basically shoved the watercolor and paintbrush into your chest. "They're so cool!"

Your eyes glistened in awe. At this time, you weren't used to speaking to Jungkook yet. You simply allowed Jungkook to pester you. Luckily, you didn't have to force words out of your mouth. Jungkook willingly let you use the paint first.

You were shaking in anticipation, yet you painted a perfect heart shape on your wrist.

"Me too. Let me paint!" Jungkook gently grabbed the brush from your hand, though he didn't let go of your hand. He used it as a canvas and painted a heart on the back of your palm.

"Big," you observed softly, eyes narrowing to see the shape. It didn't look like a heart, just an ugly, drawn red circle.

But Jungkook was overly proud of his painting.

"It is big.” The brunet grinned. “I made it for you. It’s bigger than your heart because it’s my heart. I love you!”

Innocence always suited children. Jungkook was once a child who was never afraid to voice his feelings for you. He liked you. He told you he loved you on the first day you two met. Jungkook used to be simple-minded. He’d promised to hang out with you because he loved you.

But you weren’t children anymore. Heck. Jungkook had a child of his own now. He blinked back to reality to stare at Soobin. The kid was still busy painting hearts; his lips were puckered while his brows furrowed.

It’s my child. Jungkook thought, trying not to have a panic attack. He had heard worse news. This was just a child…

Just a child…

Jungkook’s heart violently trembled.

He had a child.

“You—” Soobin’s arched brows were higher. He let go of the brush upon noticing Jungkook’s weird expression. He was a perceptive child. “Not like Soobin's heart?”

Jungkook’s breathing was ragged, throat and mouth dry. But he knew he had to force himself to look okay. Honestly, he should give himself some credit for being able to pull himself together despite the shocking news that he unwillingly got to know of.

“I like it,” Jungkook smiled. It wasn’t as genuine as the first one. He scratched his throat before patting Soobin’s head. “Where’s your Ma?”

“Oh!” Soobin’s eyes were comically wide. They shone bright at the mention of his mother. Soobin had forgotten all about painting. “Mama!”

The little kid ran. Jungkook was shocked, but he immediately recovered and followed Soobin. He didn’t run, though. He really should stop abusing his body. Soobin didn’t run far. He just went to the kitchen where you cooked.

The food aroma wafted through the room. Jungkook’s stomach grumbled; he focused on the smell before he realized you were looking at him with a creased forehead. You held a spoon in your right hand; your other hand supported Soobin’s weight. Soobin wrapped his arms around your neck, having no intention to let go.

“You’re awake.” You broke the silence, eyeing Jungkook from head to toe. The bastard looked fine. “Did Soobin wake you up?”

“No.” Jungkook shook his head, not sure how to continue the conversation.

“Okay. Sit.” You gestured toward the chair. “I’m almost done. Dinner will be ready soon.” There was a high chair beside the spot Jungkook chose to sit on. It was for Soobin, so you carefully settled your son there.

Jungkook watched the mother-son duo quietly. He was clueless as to how to approach this whole ordeal. He allowed himself to be impulsive, running after you just cause he was scared to see you retreating.

Now, though, he didn’t know what to do. It wasn’t like his circumstances had changed. Jungkook’s life was still utterly fucked.

“Have some of these first.” You came near the two boys to offer them some pudding. You were surprised when Soobin and Jungkook both reached for the strawberry-flavored one.

Time seemed to stop. Soobin and Jungkook looked at each other, seeing who’d let go first. Jungkook’s grip on the pudding tightened, making Soobin gasp.

“You two...” You were lost for words.

Jungkook’s instinct told him to grab the pudding tighter, but for once, logic sided with him. He instantly let go of the strawberry pudding when he realized he was competing with a child.

His child.

“Here you go, little one.” Jungkook smiled. He then turned to you; his face was unreadable when he wordlessly accepted the coconut-flavored pudding from your hand.

It made you sigh loudly. Damn Jungkook and Soobin for basically being the same person. They really were…

“Soobin ate all the strawberry-flavored ones. That’s the last one.” You explained, “Make do with that for now. I’ll buy more strawberry flavors next time.”

Next time. Jungkook’s heart swelled. There is a next time. You…You weren’t planning on kicking him out.

“T-Thanks.” Jungkook mumbled, voice barely above a whisper, yet you heard it loud and clear.

“Right.” You went back to preparing dinner. You made a crab soup and added purred vegetables to it. It was a simple meal that Doctor Ace approved. It was good for Soobin, too. Your son liked it so much that he asked for another bowl.

“Crab addict.” You clicked your tongue. Jungkook’s eyes flicked to you, thinking you were referring to him.

“It’s good.” Jungkook ladled another bowl for himself. “I haven’t had this in a long time.” He let himself slip off.

You stopped drinking your soup. You stared seriously at Jungkook. “Why not? Too busy to buy? Or to make one?” You hadn’t seen each other in years. You didn’t know if this bastard learned how to cook.

“No.” Jungkook blew on his soup, still high from the addicting taste that he forgot to lie. “I just couldn’t afford it.”

You weren’t surprised, considering the state of Jungkook’s home. But you couldn’t help your curiosity. You took advantage of Jungkook’s relaxed aura. “Why not? Aren’t you a billionaire? Where’d all your money go?”

“I lost in on—”

You swore you were close to finding out the truth. It was easy to bait Jungkook with food, specifically crab food. But Jungkook wasn’t the naïve boy he used to be. He couldn’t—wouldn’t give in.

The silence was deafening. Jungkook stopped drinking his soup, too.

Your mood soured, but you should have seen it coming. Jungkook would never trust you. How much more pain did you have to go through to realize that?

Jungkook called your name when he noticed your mood plummeted. You wouldn’t look at him anymore.

“Forget it.” You stood up, bringing your bowl with you. You poured its contents into the sink. You took your time washing that one piece of bowl and spoon. Thankfully, Soobin announced he was done with his soup, too.

Jungkook stood up and grabbed Soobin’s bowl before you could reach it. Your hands brushed. You pulled at once, though, not liking the electricity that pricked your skin just by simple skin contact with your former best friend.

Damn it.

“I’ll wash the dishes.”

You didn’t respond. You only carried your son in your arms. You started walking away. There were approximately fifty steps before one could exit the kitchen. You were twenty steps away from Jungkook when you paused.

“Your room is on the first floor. White door. Mine’s the one beside that, black door.” You didn’t look back. “You’re welcome to stay whenever. If you need something, just knock on my door--”

You suddenly stopped talking. Soobin yawned; he kissed your cheek before rubbing his head on your chest.

Your lip caught between your teeth. You exhaled, “—I will answer when you call.”

After that, you walked away. You didn’t have any helpers at home. If you needed anything, you just hired an hourly maid, and if Lee Sung was here, all mundane tasks fell on him. You didn’t like calling him, though. You preferred handling things independently, especially if the matter was about Soobin.

Soobin wasn’t difficult to deal with. You didn’t take long to clean him up and settle him to bed. Soobin liked bedtime stories, so you made up one. It was pretty short, though, as your mood was foul after dealing with Jungkook.

“I love you, mon bébé. Goodnight.”

Soobin’s response was a hum, relishing your soft kiss on his forehead. You watched Soobin sleep for a while before retreating to your room. Your mood did get a little better after a long shower. Honestly, you were confused and still afraid of what happened and what would happen next. Jungkook just showed up at your house, and while you shouldn’t have been surprised (you were the one who gave your address to him), you still were. But that’s the thing about Jungkook. He had always been unpredictable. You wouldn’t even blink if Jungkook left now. It was in his nature to run away, and you were the only one who insisted on things happening.

To talk was what you wanted to do, but Jungkook was evasive. Even if he wasn’t, the situation never seemed to be on your side. There was always an accident whenever you tried to face each other.

You didn’t know how long you could hold on any longer. You sighed and opened the door of your bedside drawer, picking up a framed picture of your departed sister there.

Should I just go back to France? Your hold on the frame was firm. I kept my promise. I told him about Soobin. What else can I do if he doesn’t want—

You couldn’t finish your train of thought. It hurt to think about what Jungkook thought about you and Soobin because after all this time, you still—

Your thoughts were once again interrupted. This time, by a knock on your door. You looked at the baby monitor. Soobin was sleeping soundly in the other room, so…

You swallowed thickly. The person outside your room could only be Jungkook. Your heart skipped a beat; you felt like floating when you opened the door for your former best friend.

As expected, Jungkook was there, hovering awkwardly at the door. His head snapped up to meet your gaze.

“Hi.” It's a classic greeting. You already knew this conversation wasn’t going anywhere. Talking never went well for the both of you.

“What do you want?” Your tone was more tired than biting. The rollercoaster emotion earlier got to you. You wanted to sleep now or maybe talk to your Jisoo-unnie, see if she stopped being a pain in the ass, and her burning spirit in hell would show up and tell you it’s okay to go back to France.

“I want to thank you for dinner and letting me stay here…”

You noticed Jungkook fidgeting. This was new. Jungkook was always teasing you. Now he just looked…embarrassed? And he wasn’t making a move to escape. Was this a miracle?

You didn’t dare rejoice early. The situation was still unpredictable. You needed to wait first.

“Is that all?” So you remained calm. You folded your arms across your chest.

“Yeah.” Jungkook nodded, seemingly unsatisfied. He paused before saying, “Good night.”

“Goodnight.” You were halfway through closing the door when Jungkook held the door, stopping you.

"What.”

Jungkook’s lips were pursed into a thin line. You waited for a while. However, you never claimed to be a patient person. You were going to slam the door now. Damn Jungkook and his stupid face.

“One question.”

“What?” You were more confused now. What was this shitty bastard up to!? Did he have a question? If so, why couldn’t he just go straight to the point?

“I don’t want to lie anymore…” Jungkook cleared his throat. He looked you in the eyes. “But I can’t promise to answer all your questions at once. I…”

There was ringing in your ears—as if you couldn’t believe what you were hearing.

" I will try my best to answer one of your questions each day.”

It was your turn to be quiet. You didn’t know what to say. Earlier, you were surprised that Jungkook followed you here, fidgeted around you, and stayed the night willingly. Was there a miracle? Was this a fucking joke? Or were you dreaming?

Jungkook called your name tentatively.

You pinched yourself. Aw. You thought. It was real—this was real.

“Is that okay for you?”

There was a slight buffer in your head, and then you realized Jungkook was enquiring about his proposal—how he was willing to answer your question every day.

It felt too good to be true, but you found yourself agreeing.

“It’s okay.” You sucked in a deep breath. “I’d like that.”

Good. Jungkook thought, but he didn’t say it out loud. He only smiled—a second genuine smile for this day. It felt odd, but not in a bad way. He liked smiling for you and Soobin, he realized.

“Okay.”

“Okay.” You mimicked Jungkook.

You looked at each other for a while. No words were exchanged.

The silence lasted for a few minutes.

“I should go to bed.” As usual, it was you who broke it.

“Me too,” Jungkook said, but he made no effort to move. “Good night.”

“Good night,” you said, not moving either. You were looking at each other; no one dared to break eye contact.

“Good night,” Jungkook said again, voice much softer this time.

You couldn’t take it anymore. “Good night.” You said at last before slowly shutting the door.

Jungkook made no effort to stop you. He let you close the door; your calm eyes were the last thing he saw.

Jungkook let out a breath. Good night, he said, yet it took him an hour to stand in front of your door before retreating to his temporary room.

Good night, indeed.

****

A/N: Will Jungkook stop being an ass? We'll see...we'll see.

What do we think about this chapter? I'm pretty sure there are some typos here, but iamdeadandtired!!! i would probably die if i try to edit this chapter tonight (maybe tomorrow, but gosh i am so busy with work.) i try to update weekly, but :((( next week will be much more hectic for me. work sucks but we live in a capitalistic world...sighs.

As usual, if you have more tag suggestions, do not hesitate to reach out to me. Thanks ~~

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Baggage Chapter List

[ashen-char]

dating max fox - hcs

ship: max fox (better things) x gender neutral reader

warnings: none

notes: look at her she's so cute!!!!

✦ sleeps in. she'd sleep until mid-afternoon if you let her. and max is hard to wake up since she's so stubborn

✧ on days where you two don't have to do much, it's easiest to let her sleep on your chest while you scroll on your phone

✧ when max wakes up, she likes to keep cuddling with you and just watch what you're doing on your phone

✧ she's a big fan of TikTok time, which is where you scroll on your FYP and you both crack jokes and watch together. max is singlehandedly ruining your FYP algorithm by liking the most random stuff

✧ e.g. she watches parenting tips all the way through, making TikTok think you wanna see more. when you tease her about it, max says it's "for our future" and either holds your hand or kisses your cheek

✧ she says sleeping next to you is the most comfortable and safe she's ever felt <3

✧ adores cuddles. can't get enough of them. max always curls up next to you and you can tell if it was a tough day if she doesn't want to talk much

✦ tells you all about her siblings

✧ max doesn't like to show it and would never admit it to them, but she's so proud watching frankie and duke become people. she tells you about their latest achievements, or the rants about the last fight they had

✧ if a fight with her mom/siblings was particularly nasty, max comes to you for comfort. max worries about if she's gone too far, and you reassure her that they know she cares

✧ speaking of her family bond, it was crucial to max that you fit in with everyone. and of course, you were welcomed with open arms and immediate inside jokes

✧ max called them all embarrassing (she loved it)

✦ max isn't afraid to express her feelings, and that can lead to lashing out if she feels scared or angry

✧ she says things more harshly than she means to, which was hard for you at the start when you didn't know how much of a softie she is

✧ it didn't take long for max to realise she was messing things up. and she really liked you. so she decided to be vulnerable

✧ her hopes, fears, dreams, she shared them all. max couldn't bear you thinking that she didn't care when really the reason why she lashed out was because she cared so much.

✧ she's scared of losing you. and sometimes max worries that she's too much, or she's too freaked out about everything, so she closes herself off

✧ like, maybe you'll like her more if she deals with her shit alone and only has good times with you

✧ when you assure her that you want every part of her, the good and the bad, max completely breaks down

✧ you were surprised by how insecure your girl really is. under that confident persona, in some ways max is still that little kid that was rattled by her parents' divorce

✧ does love actually exist? can it last? was it her fault?

✧ not to mention all of max's past break-ups and short-term relationships

✧ she admitted that before you, max used to wonder if she was meant to go it alone forever. that she'd be too intense for anyone to stick around if they weren't forced to - like her family or her best friend, paisley

✧ you need to reassure her. a lot. but it's so worth it when max opens up. she wouldn't agree with you, but you think she's the best at love that you've ever seen

✧ despite her tough exterior, max is fiercely loyal. she'll stand by your side through thick and thin. she's got unwavering support and all the encouragement you need, even if that's with a lot of swearing and colourful imagery

✦ max's creative flair means all the romance.

✧ impromptu poetry readings. a surprise song about you, with max serenading you on her guitar. a pottery class where you make matching plates. homemade dinners under the stars (yes, it's a little burnt but she tried her hardest)

✧ she just likes creating shared memories with you, even if something ends up going haywire

✧ max also has this rebellious streak and thirst for adventure. your dates are spontaneous and never the same as the last. she'll surprise you by impulsively taking you on a road trip and you'll have the time of your life

✦ the love language(s) that max finds easiest to express is physical touch and quality time

✧ with max being the oldest, she has the most memories of life when her parents were still together. she knows how important time together is, because her dad not being around was the beginning of the end

✧ which is why max loves being with you in comfortable silence. she adores having someone she can just be chill with, someone who doesn't judge, and likes her the way she is

✧ max likes taking care of you when you're sick. she'll make soup and some hot tea, and even ask sam for some home remedy, bringing that all up to you on a tray

✧ then, she'll sit with you and tell you about her day. even if you're sweating out a fever, max doesn't care. she'll play with your hair and dab your forehead with a towel

✦ the love language that max loves to receive is words of affirmation

✧ that's actually why she fell for you in the first place - you gave her a genuine compliment when you first met and max couldn't stop thinking about it

✧ you give her compliments on things that she didn't know others would notice or admire about her. every one makes her blush and playfully shove you away

✧ max tells you that you've made her a better person <3

[sheepiemc]

Seven Stupid Reasons to Summon a Demon

Reason #7: can't sleep

You wake with a start. 

The first thing you register is the sound of blood rushing in your ears. Your heart is beating wildly and you don’t know what happened or where you are. It's not an unfamiliar feeling but it has been quite a while since you felt this way. Your breathing is shallow, no matter how hard you try, you can't take in enough air. You press a hand to your chest as if that will calm it down. 

You take in a deep breath… and release it slowly… 

It was just a dream — of course it was. That would never happen in real life… at least, you hope it wouldn’t. You take one final deep breath and sigh. 

You look at the clock: 3:47 a.m. 

Your cat stares at you from the windowsill, eyes reflecting green and gold back at you. He hops down from the sill and crawls into your lap. You give him a scratch under his chin, just like you know he likes. 

You hate when this happens. 

It’s so hard for you to fall asleep when you’ve been woken up. You’ve been working all week and today was your first full day off in a long time. Normally, you would just resign yourself to your fate and get up — do something, anything — instead of lying awake in bed. But this time, you were determined to go back to sleep. You‘ve earned it, dammit! 

You flop back onto the pillows. You take a deep breath and close your eyes. You try “counting sheep” but you never make it past 30 before you get confused and start imagining things other than sheep. Or asking questions like, why do we count sheep in the first place? Could’ve been frogs or elephants, even! Why sheep? Who decided sheep were associated with sleep anyway? 

See, now your mind is racing with questions. 

You shift positions, laying on your side, pushing sheep thoughts from your mind. Think of nothing, you tell yourself. Nothing at all… You hear the soft pitter-patter of rain hit your window and feel yourself start to drift off to sleep — when a loud crack of thunder rouses you from your almost-slumber. You swear you can feel the bags forming underneath your eyes as the wind howls and the gentle tapping becomes hard knocks against the pane of glass. 

Of course. This might as well happen. 

It’ll pass soon, sure, but it HAD to pass when you were struggling to fall asleep? You groan in frustration. Your cat bolted when the lightning hit so you feel no guilt throwing the sheets off your sweaty legs. You start to head off towards the kitchen — before you return for your blanket, wrapping it around your shoulders because you feel naked without its protection. 

You know what you need? Tea. Something mild, something sleepy. You pull out a blend of chamomile and butterfly pea tea. Sure, you could use the normal chamomile tea, but you love to add color to your life when you can. Plus, it doesn’t change the taste, not really. That’s what you add the honey and lemon for. 

The lemon really does give it a lovely hue, you think as you stir your tea. It’s a hue that always reminds you of a certain someone... 

You furrow your brow. 

A certain someone who has the easiest solution to your problem right at his fingertips. 

You almost smack your head for not thinking of him sooner as you concentrate on a star that doesn’t exist in your night sky. You don’t even bother walking up to your window to imagine it because the rain clouds are covering any glimpse you would have of the stars in your city. 

You kick yourself and concentrate when a soft purple light floods your dark kitchen — you didn’t even bother to turn on the lights for fear it would ruin your sleepy vibes. Before you stands just the demon you wanted to see, his purple eyes almost glowing in the dark. 

“MC.” He almost purrs. 

“Belphie.” Your voice sounds rough. You blame your interrupted respite. 

You blink at each other a few times. When you don’t immediately offer an explanation, he looks you fully up and down. 

No shoes, clearly wearing pajamas, mug of tea in hand, blanket wrapped cozily around you, faint bags under your eyes. Even though it’s dark, you swear you can still see him smirk at you as he says, “Can’t sleep?” 

You shake your head. “Can’t sleep.” 

“Well,” he says, “You’ve come to the right demon.” He nods to the tea. “Bring me some, I’ll meet you inside.” He heads off to your room. 

You shake your head and smile incredulously. You pour some tea into the mug you save just for him. Sugar instead of honey, two spoons. No lemon keeps it blue but half-n-half makes the tea a soft, milky sky blue. 

When you make your way back to your room, you can see he’s made quick work crafting a cozy space out of your bed. “The environment is a key factor, not a lot of people know that.” 

You shake your head again and chuckle this time. “I’m not gonna question the master.” 

You hand him his cup of tea. He takes a sip and smiles at what he tastes — a smile that says just the way I like it. “Thank you kindly.” 

“Wow, so polite.” 

“Of course,” he says, “What kind of demon would I be if I didn’t treat my pact-holder with the utmost respect.” 

“Cute,” you smile sweetly. Then, your voice flattens. “What do you want?” 

“Clever human,” He puts the mug down on the bedside table and places his hands behind his head — lounging, the very definition of relaxed (and lazy). “I wanted to discuss the terms of my service.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“Well, what am I getting out of this deal?” 

You scoff. “Seriously?” You take a sip of your tea. 

“I mean, if I’m gonna put the effort into this, I should get something for it.” 

You hold your tea up to the side of your face and tilt your head to that side, the picture of innocent cuteness. “You get to be with little ol’ me for a few hours.” 

“Well that’s no fun — you’ll be sleeping.” He’s not even looking at you — he’s already closed his eyes, as if this is a done deal. Smug bastard. 

You grit your teeth. You didn’t think he would be difficult about this but maybe you should’ve known better. Honestly, it's 4 a.m. now and you don’t have the patience for his games right now. 

“Well, if you’re gonna be stingy about it, maybe I don’t need y-” 

You turn to leave your room, ready to abandon your bed for the couch if it comes for a price, when he quickly grabs onto you.  

“Wait.” 

He sits up from his lounging position. You look down at where he holds your wrist in his hand, firm but still gentle, then look into his eyes. You know he has more strength in his little finger than you do in your entire body but when you pull your arm out of his grip, there is no resistance. 

You see the hurt creep around his eyes and you already feel bad but you steel yourself and say, “I’m tired, Belphie. A nightmare woke me up tonight and I just want to get back to sleep.” 

He looks at you for a long time without saying anything. For a moment, you wonder if he heard you, or if you even said anything out loud. Then he asks, "Do you wanna talk about it?" 

The question catches you off guard ...Talk about the dream? The details are already beginning to fade but you do remember the fear. 

Belphegor watches you ponder the question and wordlessly pats your bed. You sit next to him and look down at your tea in your hands. “I… don't really remember where I was or what I was doing. All I can remember is that I was watching something terrible happen and I was powerless to stop it.” 

“You know, MC. I’m a dream demon. I’m used to wading around through people’s subconscious and seeing the absolute worst things they can imagine. Hell, I’ve sometimes even put some truly awful things in their minds. But you know, no matter how visceral it feels, how much it scares you, how much it hurts — it will never be real. It can’t hurt you out here.” He puts a hand on your knee, next to where your hands lay in your lap. 

You look up at him and see sincerity, a rare expression on his usually mischievous face. 

You smile softly at him before scoffing. 

Not the reaction he was expecting, he gives you a sassy look and rests his cheek on his fist. “What?”

“I just feel like I’ve had this exact conversation before… Y’know, when I was, like, five?” You try to take a sip of your tea but you can’t stop smiling.

Belphie lets out an involuntary bark of laughter. It makes you giggle, too. “Well then, I guess you never learn, do you?” 

You both end up in a fit of laughter. 

You're not really sure why — it wasn’t that funny to begin with. But it is almost 4:30 a.m. and you’re probably more than a little hysterical. Belphie takes the mug of tea from your hands before you end up spilling it everywhere. 

As you gasp for breath, coming down from your giggle delirium, you say, "It's kinda funny, actually… How when you're a kid, your nightmares are about monsters and scary things that aren't real but as you get older, your nightmares are about real life tragedies that could happen to you tomorrow." 

He chuckles to himself. 

You push him with your shoulder. "What?" 

"Nothing. Just…” He looks down at his hands resting in his lap.

“What would kid-you say now that the monster wasn't under your bed, but in it?" He's smiling but it's more rueful than joyful. 

You look at him and say, "You're not a monster, Belphie." 

He looks at you and raises an eyebrow. "MC, I'm literally a demon. I just told you I give people nightmares. Like for fun." 

You know what else he’s thinking about — what always goes unsaid but is always at the back of his mind, always hanging in the air between you. You give him a flat look. 

He narrows his eyes at you slightly, so slight you almost convince yourself he didn’t. And yet, faster than you can blink, you’re on your back. He hovers his body over yours, with both his hands on either side of your face — caging you in. He looks down at you. You look up at him. Where you would normally see a mischievous glint in his eyes, you only see hard emotion. 

You’ve gotten good at communicating non-verbally with both Belphie and his twin but when he puts up a wall like this, he is impossible to read. 

“You should be afraid of me.” His voice sounds raw with emotion, like he’s been screaming for hours. 

You just look at him. After what feels like an eternity of neither of you saying anything, he hesitantly lifts one hand and places it gently on your neck. His touch is so featherlight, you can barely feel it. But you do feel it there, trembling slightly. 

“You know I’m not.” And it’s true. You know he would never hurt you. Not like that, not again. And not just because you could stop him with your pact. You know he hasn’t forgiven himself for what he did and you aren’t sure you fully have either. It’s times like these where you both get to reflect on your relationship, that defining event, and where you are now. 

“And I never will be.” You slip your hands behind his neck and card your finger through his soft hair. You see his eyes flutter for a moment before he remembers he's supposed to be intimidating you. 

Before you can react, his head dips low to the crook of your neck. He lets his body weight fall on top of you. You grunt from the sudden impact and it makes you laugh. In the quiet, you hear him gently murmur into your neck, “I don’t deserve you.” 

You hum and continue to card your fingers through his hair. “I thought you were the one who was supposed to comfort me.” 

“Well, if you want me to help you out, I did say you would have to do something for me.” 

You laugh. Of course — he’s just as stubborn as you are. “Can I at least get into a more comfortable position?” 

Belphie groans and flops away from you. You get into your nest and adjust till you’re nice and cozy. He kneels on the bed, hovering above you, ready to pounce. He switches to his demon form, the smell of sulfur filling the room. You plug your nose and wave the stench away. “Damn, I wish that smell didn’t linger so much.” 

Belphie shrugs, “Hey, what kind of demon would I be if at least one aspect of this wasn’t unpleasant?” You roll your eyes and open your arms to him. He dives in and, to your surprise, actually maneuvers you to be on top of him now. 

You look at him, questions obvious on your face.   

He holds you close, tucking your head underneath his chin and says, “Nothing is more comforting to me than having you in my arms.” 

You feel the heat rise in your face at how unabashedly honest he is and you're grateful he can’t see your face — you wouldn’t hear the end of it. 

You tighten your arms around him, holding him close, too. “Thank you, Belphie.” 

You feel the effects of his power take hold and you lose yourself to the soft purple abyss of deep, uninterrupted sleep.

A soft, soothing voice reaches out to you through the lulling numbness. Safe. Comfort.“Sweet dreams, MC.”

[ronearoundblindly]

Ransom x reader

Enemies to lovers , bot came from wealthy backgrounds as one is a trust fund (ran) then the other has her life getting good with a buissness outside her family . Why are they enemies at first? Shes admired for not relying on her folks too much as a teen and down to earth , enjoys the finer things as she views them as a reward or gift but ransom Demands that shit they also bicker how shes freinds with people bellow her and she sasses him how he always rely on perks thats petty

Warnings: so. much. cursing. It's all from Ransom's point of view, and since he's a disturbing(ly sexy) asshole, that translates to language. Plus smut (protected sex) MINORS DNI. 18+ ONLY. Reader's background/company is ambiguous. Also of note is the 'enemies' portion is quite subtle. WC 4k

The Root of All Ransom, Part One (see series)

There’s new money and then there’s new money.

Ransom loves the smell of new, physical money, and because he spends so much of it, he gets to feel those crisp bills all the time. Sure, his black card gets the same look at a register, but the plastic gets tattered after a while. The metal cards are a nice touch. Hefty. Metal makes a great tapping sound when he’s bored of waiting for a retail worker to do their fucking job and let him leave already. Cash is easiest to toss down and run out. He likes all forms of money. Ransom is diverse that way.

You, however, you are the New Money, the shit that’s a title, the shit that’s been earned, and it reminds him of his mother’s ranting. ‘Self-made’ his ass. Grandpa Harlan never made Linda repay a dime; that’s not a million-dollar loan. That’s good, old-fashioned nepotism. That’s inheritance come early. Old Harlan is Old Money, but New Money You is just as stale.

“She’s a breath of fresh air,” the middle-aged woman beside him coos.

Fucking gross.

Each time Ransom sees you he gets a foul taste in his mouth. His nostrils flare. He can smell the budgeting on you even at a distance. For every one of these events (with swag bags and a charity write-off promise) where you make a speech after receiving an award for whatever—he’s already too bored to listen—Ransom drinks heavily to make it to the end of the night.

He hasn’t given a dime, mind you, but Harlan has, and Linda has. Neither of them ever wants to go hobnob. Linda would but can’t trust Richard at these things, so she sticks to daytime shindigs. Walt is a bumbling, awkward mess, so he can’t represent anything other than why big pharma for every neurosis exists. He’s not welcome. Instead, it falls to nowhere-else-to-be Ransom. 

He thought he’d hate the events as much as the company until he found a thick, silver lining: some starry-eyed wannabe is always seated at an adjacent table. Handsome, young Ransom is guaranteed someone to go home with. Bonus points if they give head during the car ride.

Tonight though, he fucks up.

Ransom Drysdale makes the mistake of chatting up your date: your friend, Mariah, from high school who’s in town for the weekend. She’s doing a remarkable impression of a bimbo socialite, and he’s already wasted most of the meal trying to land an unattainable prize—though not a worthwhile prize, obviously.

It’s not his fault; he was at the bar when you and Mariah arrived, so he had no clue.

He expects you to be defensive once you make your way back to the table after your speech and find your friend with him. Ran is sure his reputation precedes him. He looks great in the photo ops just as he looks for great ass. He thinks your smile seems forced until you get closer. All you do is tell them to enjoy themselves.

Mariah here looks like she’s about to drop to her knees under the table, and you’re gonna let her?

You can’t possibly be stupid enough to trust him, can you?

He snorts out a chuckle, thinking you may know your business but you clearly do not know people. He wants to fuck Mariah. Then he really wants Mariah to tell you about fucking him, ad nauseam, hopefully, multiple times. Then he’s not sure whether he’d prefer you want to fuck him or you be mad about him fucking Mariah. He’ll have to wait and see.

“Isn’t she the best,” Mariah tosses out as flippantly as her hair extensions over her exposed shoulders. “I’m surprised she wanted me to come instead of a real date.”

“Sure,” he swigs his whisky quickly, “but then I wouldn’t get you for the evening, too.”

If he’s not mistaken, Mariah just soaked the pretty little thong he can just see the outline of in her tight dress, so Ran lays on a few more easy moves and thinks it’s a done deal.

Alas, he is wrong, and you and your friend leave together smiling while he races to text a booty call to meet at his place in a half-hour.

It’s all very frustrating, and Ransom hates you that much more.

Ransom has two new coats, a half-dozen new shirts, a three-piece suit, three new pairs of shoes, and he’s looking for the piece de resistance: a scarf (or several).

He loves accessories because he loves to change things up. He gets bored extremely easily, and he feels better when he treats himself.

In Hermès, he eyes a few options. He might even bother to get that one for his mother just because it has a few hideous accent colors he knows she’ll hate. Linda will still smile tightly and fake gratitude; it’s the only type of gratitude she knows. He doesn’t find anything for himself though, so he heads to the counter and recognizes the curves of a woman’s backside…in a dress that he’s seen in multiple candid tabloid shots.

How old is that garment? Jesus. Have some pride, woman.

His bored greeting startles you.

“Mr. Drysdale,” you exclaim, hand over your heart, “good to see you again.”

Is it?

“Right,” he grumbles roughly. “What brings you out of your goodie-two-shoes hole this afternoon?”

You seem excited, but in a different way than he’s ever noticed. At events, you are the picture of humility, full of genuine gratitude (and possibly the only reason he knows what that looks like), but this is something else.

The salesman returns with your order and unboxes a Birkin bag for you to inspect.

Now you’re just plain giddy, overjoyed, and vibrating, and Ransom preens a little to see Ms. High-and-Mighty so lowered as to indulge in retail therapy.

That’s a twenty-five thousand dollar bag you’re holding.

“Nice color,” Ransom chides, but he isn’t rewarded with your deterrence. You simply turn to beam at him.

“My favorite!” Your hands return to sweeping over the beautiful pebbled leather. “I had to wait for years—which is fine—“ you quickly add “—but I promised myself I’d do ten hours a week of volunteer work to earn such an extravagance.”

“Are you going to use it?”

You nod without turning back to him.

“Are you going to enjoy it?”

Another saleswoman motions to help him with the scarf he holds, and Ransom says nothing to her but drops his black card on the counter.

“Very much so,” you say quietly, almost like a confession.

“Then what’s so crazy about that?”

You giggle. You actually giggle. You don’t tell him how wrong he is or judge his spending in any way, which is surprising when that’s all those events he knows you from are for—to get him to spend money their way.

Ransom doesn’t know what compels him to stand there with his small purchase and watch while your bag gets squared away. You don’t choose to wear it out of the store, something he finds patently ridiculous because it’s a fucking Birkin and you’re about to walk out of Hermes with it in a box in another bag.

He pushes off the counter to walk out with you, an idea springing up.

“You’ve met my mother, I believe.”

Your polite smile gives nothing away. “Yes, a few times. Very briefly.”

“Her birthday is next month—” he lets an employee open the door for you both “—her sixtieth, allegedly.”

“Oh, well, tell her happy birthday for me.”

“You could come.”

Your face scrunches but whether from his offer or the bright sun on the street, he doesn’t know. His sunglasses are already on. You rummage around in what looks like a tapestry bag on the bad side of vintage for yours. 

This is why you should have left using the Birkin, and he’s honestly surprised Hermès even served you looking like you do.

Where’s all that new money now, he thinks, because one bag is certainly not all of it.

“Why not? You both own businesses and run in similar circles.”

“Hugh, I don’t think—“

“Ransom,” he corrects with a sneer.

“Well, I just…” You regard him thoroughly for a long moment until a black car pulls up and its driver opens the door for you.

There it is. There’s a bit of pomp. He’s almost proud to see you being served. You’re just like him—or rather his family—in a way; you have help.

“Fine,” you say to Ransom while nodding to your driver, “text me the details, and I’ll see if I’m in town.” Even though your words are dismissive, they sound genuine and kind.

Yuck.

Your driver fishes a card from his breast pocket and curtly adds a ‘sir,’ before shutting you behind tinted windows.

Ok, so it’s not the easiest ‘yes’ he’s ever gotten. It wasn’t a ‘no’ either. Good news is that Ransom is not holding his breath. If it works, it works.

The idea is to flaunt you in front of Linda, not romantically, of course, but as a younger woman, perceived as better, more self-made, more successful, with a Birkin bag in his mother’s actual favorite color, while he gives her a scarf she’ll be revolted by. It’s perfect.

This did not at all go to plan.

Linda is supposed to be pissed. She’s supposed to be appalled and furious and have to hide that from her guests—which is most of the family, catering staff, and Harlan’s house help. She’s supposed to look at Ransom and know that he did this on purpose.

He told you not to bring a present for a reason, but he made damn sure when he picked you up that you were wearing that damn bag.

How the fuck was he supposed to know you’d go and be the dumbest bitch ever?

Linda got through two whole sentences of greeting after obviously clocking the Birkin and then turned it about her. She’s predictable that way, but you are not.

“That’s my favorite color,” she said.

“Mine too,” you said.

You both fucking laughed.

“I’ve always wanted one,” she said.

“You should have one,” you said.

He should have known right then except for on what planet does someone…

Ransom only stepped out for a few minutes to mess with Walt, smoking that sickening cigar. When he comes back in, there on the table right beside Linda is your bag. He looks around, but you aren’t in the living room. Then his mom smiles and pets the Birkin possessively.

“Oh, Ran, that girl is so sweet,” Linda coos.

Richard snorts in astonishment. “She’s really something.”

Ransom cringes at the lustful leer on his father’s face while he stares off toward the library.

What the shit? 

You gave his mother your bag? After one minute of conversation?

God fucking damn it.

He has no words. Ran just purses his lips and stalks off to the other room in search of you. You’re deep in conversation with Harlan, seated across from each other in the bay windows of the library in high-backed upholstered chairs. On the floor beside your foot is a Blood Like Wine tote, partially filled.

“Grandpa,” he interrupts, leaning one arm against your chair with a questioning gaze.

“Ransom, my boy, it’s good to see you.” Before he can get a word in, Harlan waves an arthritis-gnarled hand in your direction. “Have you met my neighbor?”

“Neighbor?”

You shrug with a weak smile. “I purchased the Carlyles’ old property last year but kept my apartment in town.”

He’s thrown off by this news, thinking. “That’s walking distance from here,” Ransom says flatly.

“Yes, it is. That’s why I can find my own way home tonight.”

“Ah,” Harlan taps his nose, “so you two know each other.”

“Your grandson was kind enough to invite me.”

“And you made quite a fucking impression,” Ransom growls while putting a hand on your shoulder.

Harlan flicks Ransom away. “Don’t be creepy, son. Get the lady a drink.”

“Mr. Thrombey, please.” You stand, forcibly pushing his hand off of you. “Ransom’s your family. Why don’t I get you boys something while you catch up?”

“Whiskey, neat, two fingers,” Ransom bitterly spits, shoving the hand in his jean pocket.

Harlan tsks him with a solemn look.

“The same,” his grandfather sighs before returning your smile. “I appreciate it, dear.”

“Anytime.”

Ran fights the urge to kick your tote on the floor.

Harlan simply moves on. “One of my next novels is an intrigue of corruption, involves a non-profit, and Good Miss was enlightening me to a few details of their inner workings.”

“Glad you both can turn it off for five minutes,” Ransom grunts back.

Harlan’s sharp gaze lands on him.

“While I am glad you did not use her and lose her, as they say.”

“God, no,” Ransom groans in revulsion. “She’s here to rub Linda the wrong way…not me.” He tries to bury his self-satisfied smirk in a sweater sleeve held to his mouth.

“Charming.” Harlan means anything but charming as he looks to see you side-tracked again by a chat with Marta. “You’ve done much worse before—“ he turns to the window “—but my guess is she never has.”

Ransom’s jaw twitches. This is why he hates his family, even his favorite among them. No wonder he brought someone exclusively to annoy them, hoping to make them feel small and selfish, but he forgot something important.

They’re all like him. None of them care to be selfless. They don’t want to be charitable. They are fine being perceived that way, if necessary, if it gains them something else they want.

But.

What Harlan says gives him another idea. What if he keeps you around? They are sure to lose their minds. Harlan would be impressed (and proved wrong). Richard will be jealous (although that’s still gross). Linda would be unable to manipulate that situation (though she’ll try).

Plus, Joni will hate you instantly because you’re prettier and don’t need her snake-oil skin shit.

“Harlan,” you offer his grandfather his drink first, then turn to Ran with that irritatingly kind smile. “Hugh.”

He takes the glass and flashes pearly whites.

It’s decided. He just hopes the sex won’t be as boring as he thinks. You’re definitely not a roadhead bitch.

Although based on that damn Birkin, you are stupidly generous, so he hopes that translates to the bed…or wherever he fucks you.

“Sure your shoes can take it?”

As if he can’t walk across the fucking woods…the embers of waning alcohol all push around in his gut on the trek over to the Carlyles’ place. He hasn’t gone over there since maybe freshman year of high school during a long Christmas stay at Thrombey Manor.

He was wrong. Ran’s shoes are not fine, but he has to bury that irritation down deep while entering the warm and inviting mansion filled with your...roommates?

Four other people live in a house that you sometimes stay in: Angela, Diego, Terrell, and Luca.

Ran doesn’t fucking care. This is not some weird orgy he’s planning. He almost walks right back out and floors the Beamer back to civilization.

Mercifully, you have most of the upstairs entirely to yourself, a small suite of a bedroom, office, and bathroom neatly tucked above a quieter part of the house.

He’s surprised that you drop the tote bag and start shedding clothes so quickly.

“Sorry about them. We all went to uni together and this works as a crash-pad for the internationals.”

“No problem,” he sighs, “I know what it’s like.” They’re freeloaders, like my cousin Meg, is what they are, but Ransom keeps that thought to himself.

You offer him another drink, which Ran accepts, watching you like a hawk with sky-blue eyes.

Beneath your dress, you wear a slip, a silky satin thing that actually impresses him. He’s convinced there is thick shapewear beneath it because that just seems like a you thing to do: one sexy move, one boner killer. Instead of showing him though, you spin your finger around in front of him.

“Really,” he quips. He’s already resigned to putting his dick in either way, so he doesn’t really care.

You smile too sweetly for it to read as coy. “Make yourself useful and go to my bag.”

“That’s not a bag,” he scoffs. “Might as well be made of tissue paper.”

He still obediently wanders over to the chair you draped it over and flips back a handle. Excellent. This nearly makes up for the entire party. Ran derives a sickening amount of pleasure from knowing these condoms were stored in the Birkin his mother will now carry around with pride.

He downs the remainder of his drink and whips out a wrapper. He wouldn’t care if you didn’t have any, or didn’t want to use one, or if you made some reference to them but the lights were off and didn’t check. The lights are still on though, and you’ve pointed him right to them. He’ll play ball. He hopes you play with balls, too. He hopes this is fun instead of just mediocre. He prepares himself to be actively bored, however, because that’s the most likely scenario.

It’s his usual MO. Works like a charm. Start out slow and teasing—girls tend to think it’s sensual but he’s being lazy (and they beg soon anyway)—until he can take over in exactly whatever fashion he wants. Except you don’t quite let things unfold that way.

He expects you to want him to kiss you, but you playfully turn away each time he advances. You swat his hands when he tries to touch you, only to grab the hem of his sweater and rip it off him. You don’t wait for him to unbutton his jeans before sliding cool fingers down past the band of his boxers.

Fuck, he does like it when they're forward.

He pops the button, pushes the zipper, and shuffles out of the heavy cotton while you get a good hold of him. Ransom doesn’t care that your hands are soft, just rough enough for friction and nothing more, and he doesn’t really care that your slip is still on because he’s figured something else out.

You’re not wearing underwear. He’s not sure if you were but tossed them aside while he grabbed the condom, or perhaps you’ve been speaking with his family for the better part of two hours with your cunt kissed by the same air they were all breathing, but he’s happy about it.

Ransom leans forward to you again, but instead of letting him kiss you, you look down to spit in your hand and work him harder.

“The sooner you suit up…” you taunt him, glancing at the wrapper still clutched in Ran’s hand, “sooner you get in for the night.”

He’s been with bossy doms before—not his favorite—but this is different. His instinct is that you want a show of it, maybe you want to see him touch himself, maybe you want to see his face as the tight latex is rolled down his throbbing cock, but you hold his gaze while turning your body away from him.

Since he doesn’t have to play up how he looks, Ran focuses on the expanse of skin across your back. There’s so much more than your dress showed, yet not enough, and it’s beautiful. He thinks about the same, smooth skin that must be stretched across your ass and rolls his hips against the fabric while his mouth maps your neck and shoulders.

Not romantically, of course, he’s not trying to make you feel better—you are more than capable of feeling yourself, but Ransom enjoys a little taunting of his own now and then.

His hands move to cup your breasts, and fuck, did you not have a bra on earlier either? This day is full of surprises.

His intense rutting coupled with teasing your taut nipples makes your slip catch between your ass cheeks, and he angles his dick to press through the apex of your thighs, taking the satin with him.

Pretty skin beneath his lips, pretty noises ringing in his ears, Ran pulls away.

The fresh wet spot on your slip sticks to the condom when he looks down at his demanding erection.

You’re ready. He’s ready.

Fuck, Ransom is so ready, and you know it, climbing onto the edge of your bed to get comfortable presented in all your glory, all the lights on, fingers already teasing and working yourself open.

This is already way better than he expected. He doesn’t have to work. He doesn’t have to try. He doesn’t have to fake interest. You handle your clit like the expert you are on yourself, and Ran works himself up, sheathed and thrusting in you like the expert he is on himself. Pleasure for pleasure, and fuck is it pleasurable. 

His fist holds onto the bundled satin across the small of your back, and you make natural escalating noises.

It sounds genuine.

Shit, when was the last time he didn’t get annoyed at some bitch hamming up her moans? Not that it distracted him from coming, no, he could get him whether she was dramatic or an awkward, silent one. Takes more effort when he has to ignore something she’s doing though. 

Then you demand he goes faster, and he’s into it. Then you come with a groan that’ll haunt his hindbrain, and he can feel the massaging grip and release. Then you take his balls in hand, tugging gently, and he fucking loses it.

He feels the hot flood of his cum into the condom as your walls still ripple against him. 

Damn, he doesn’t even care if you made him wrap up. That was fucking satisfying. It wasn’t even complicated, but you came and he came and that’s all he needed.

Ransom hasn’t been at a girl’s place in a while (certainly not without his car ready to get away) because he prefers to kick them out and already be home, but his hookups are usually clinging to the idea of staying the night.

You immediately go to the bathroom, clean up, and—now completely naked—stand at the foot of the bed.

“You good, Hugh? I’m on a call with Beijing in fifteen, so take your time—“ you button up a plain, blue shirt, your nipples showing right through “—or sleep or whatever. I’ll be a bit.”

“Only the help calls me Hugh.” It’s all he can come up with while he stares at your breasts and contemplates why he feels a bit used.

He got off, you’re not clinging to him, and you’ve given him an easy out. If he had to describe his perfect fucking date, this would be it, and his gut twists oddly just thinking about being dismissed.

You don’t miss a beat, heading for the door with only panties and the shirt on. Your ass pops out easily from under the hem.

“Suppose I’ll see you at the Kennedy thing next weekend, huh?”

Ran slaps his hand over his face, remembering there’s another fucking event coming up. “Yeah. Is that the stupid inner-city garden initiative?”

You hum in response, grabbing something else out of your flimsy purse tote. He better not see you carry that fucking thing around in front of actual fucking people. You don’t see him staring at your ass through his fingers before you swivel back around.

“If you need something, text me. Don’t knock.”

He snorts, knowing that he wouldn’t stay if a girl paid him to.

For one shining moment, you turn to beam at him. “Thanks for making it quick,” you chirp with a wink and shut the door behind you.

You goddamn wink at him after chucking him into the quickie category in your own mansion.

What the fuck?

Out of spite, he should just sleep here, he thinks. Let Harlan question why the Beamer is still in the drive. Let Walt stare at the car and know Ransom can get better pussy than that twat has had in a lifetime. Let Linda…

Hell, let Linda do whatever the fuck she wants and let Richard think whatever the fuck he wants.

Ransom takes his own naked walk of glory to the bathroom and does just that—he sleeps in a hookup’s bed all night, completely pleased with himself and his control of the situation.

a/n: Honest to god, this was supposed to be a one-shot. Genuinely, I swear. Now that I've plotted it out though...there was no way. I just personally don't really like more than 5k per Tumblr post. Too easy to lose your place. This way we stick with a three-ish-act structure, too. Squee! Hope you enjoyed this, and please let me know what you think in comments, reblogs, or anon asks!

[Next Part]

[Main Masterlist]

[malnivia]

My contribution to the challenge! Enjoy

(Warning: some angst, a couple swears)

***

Cleaning the shelves. Dusting the books. Rereading the same story all over, again and again until you are finally determined worthy of another less repetitive task.

"Well, that was the last of me," he murmured and got up from his chair.

He could not handle anymore of this crap. Not today, at least not right now. The headache was getting worse and the more he read, the more letters seemed to be more like blurry lines with no pattern in sight.

It was time for him to run.

He laughed nervously when leaving the room. It was that easy. Because they never even were here to keep an eye out for their tasks getting completed. They never had to – he was a perfect student and apprentice and every other random rank he had been given in order to establish the givers as the good ones. Because he would never leave that dark dusty room to wander off to other endeavors. He was taught not to from a young age.

Worried, but determined, a boy with black hair and light-blue eyes hastened to the key chamber to outrun the reasonable thoughts in his head, telling him to go back.

The creaky door announced itself to all of the library halls. Behind it there were carefully placed artifacts in form of keys, hidden from the eyes of the gullible and common outlanders.

Not from the perfect apprentice they aren't, that's for sure

"Which one should I take?" the guy from before put his thumb on his chin and scratched it in a very asshole-y way, as if he was proving some kind of point to the non-existing audience. The point being "No, you cannot understand me, I am simply more intelligent and literate than all of you and your family combined."

Anyway, his gaze has fallen onto the easiest key there is – the Heroine Key. He was never given that one for reasons, obvious to Ex Libris, yet unknown to him. Well, he never really yearned for it since the experience it offers is truly horrendous. After all, what heroines do most of the time is fall in love and spend time with the fictional princes – who in their right mind would want to do that? But this time it was not about the story rather than the simple concept of walking around, doing nothing – something he could never afford.

Finally, he grabbed the key and turned his head to the closest shelf there. "Snow White" is the first one he saw and with no room for anxious thoughts and doubts, he puts the key in the book and vanishes.

***

Once upon a time... A dude falls from the sky.

He appears then in a castle, surrounded by beautiful and high walls, in a room that looks like princesses' chambers. But the boy doesn't spare a single glance – he is truly fed up with the fairytale settings and, having visited so many stories, has lost the ability to enjoy these fantasy surroundings.

Although something does catch his eye... A weird colorful outline coming from his clothes which were supposed to be dark and stylish.

"What the-" he uttered with a hint of hate and genuine disgust as he looked into the mirror nearby and realised what he was wearing – a beautiful dress with a skirt of a golden color, with navy blue puffy sleeves and some red gems around it. He also notices a red short bow in his hair.

Truly, a horror.

"What does it think it's doing?" he referred to the key which was the creator of this outfit. The keys were rarely talked to and if they were, it was not to ask them for a new fashion choice, that's why the guy was so weirded out.

And when you think the situation couldn't get worse – he wasn't even able to punish it (with words). Taking artifacts off of their keychains was strictly forbidden without supervision to ensure no slip-ups and runaways.

The bottom line being, all the boy could do was complain about this situation under his nose.

After 5 minutes of very inappropriate words, he finally let it go and went on on his endeavors, his voice now muttering the plot of the book like some sort of incastation that would make the real world problems vanish away from his brain:

"Once upon a time, there lived a princess named Snow White. Snow White was very beautiful" he rambled while passing through the corridors. "Her skin was as white as snow, her hair as black as the ebony wood and her lips were as red as a red, red rose."

Who even has the lips of a double red rose? Clearly, the princess applied some lipstick before starting the story. "Now now, that's just cheating" a boy thought while stepping out of the castle. "Really, this is supposed to be medieval with no make-up business in sight. Me, I would prefer if my lips were compared to the actual color they are" he considered while gracefully stepping through the garden.

"Excuse me, your Highness!" a voice echoed behind him and he turned to see a local huntsman getting closer. "Princess, would you like to go on a walk in the forest with me?"

"Ah, the part where I get left behind" princess pondered.

"I would love to accept your proposal, sir" he stated instead since he was taught better than to mess with the story's flow of events.

And so they went on a walk. It wasn't really a two-person walk since Snow White has long forgotten how to relax and talk to people his social status and could only reminisce on the plot carved into his mind. He put his hands behind him and didn't pay attention to the character near him until the man cried:

"Princess, I... I have to tell you something. I believe I forgot the... the task I was given by her Majesty. I am going to have leave you."

"What? Aren't you gonna do some work and show me a place to hide from my stepmother?" the princess was very confused as to why is the story different from what he has read.

"E-excuse me, miss. But, you should stay in the forest. It's not safe at the palace right now." the huntsman mumbled with clearly no idea of a good excuse to leave.

The princess couldn't believe his ears. To think that the least this measly character would do is follow the story exactly and yet he doesn't. Snow White felt pissed and very annoyed.

"Ugh, whatever. I am in no need of my mother's subject who can't even do a casual job of killing me..." he said, whispering the last words to escape the leaving man's attention. He watched him go and after he was left alone, he realised... how quiet it actually was.

Is anyone doing their job around here? The huntsman ain't unaliving little girls and now the birds are not singing and helping out the princess. Well, guess what? Today is the opposite day. So, our heroine is going to seat right here and not move for a single inch.

...

Why would it matter anyway... If he went looking for the dwarves' hut, he would have to clean it – basically, more work for the errand boy.

He sat down by the tree in search of some comfort. The headache could not be erased by the magic of Ex Libris, but at least it wasn't getting worse – more like frozen in time.

The boy now had time to dwell on.

He wanted so much to happen, but nothing did. He was still dusting the books and reorganizing the shelves and rereading the same fricking books over and over again. It felt like no life at all. Every meeting, every training session gave him no enjoyment at all – they all became just one single mess of chores that he had to deal with.

Suddenly the boy felt his eyes getting wet. He couldn't believe it. He quickly got up from sulking (which he apparently was doing) and tried to distract himself to avoid the tears coming. After all, what good of an apprentice who cries whenever he gives in a bit too much to ponder on casualties of the present?

He then started thinking about simpler things. He thought of what the Queen was doing at the moment and the words came up to him as if he had the page opened right in front of him.

"Famed as thy beauty, Majesty,

But behold, a lovely maid I see.

Alas, she is more fair than thee,

Lips as red as a rose,

Hair as black as ebony" he brushed his hair off of his face.

"Skin as white as snow."

He sat there for a silent moment before clapping his eyes twice in a rush of thought.

"What?"

He swiftly returned his locks to the same spot.

"Hair as black as ebony huh," he realised only now when looking at his short hair. It was quite dark, a color of night.

"Skin as white as snow..." he then focused his eyes on the hand that was holding the hair, now leaving it behind. His hands were indeed pretty pale.

Instinctively, he touched his lips, but swiftly rolled his eyes after realising that they were clearly not as red as any red, red rose.

"I suppose we're not so different, now are we?" he said to himself. "And without the appearances, we are still both scullery maids, assigned by our predecessors. And in no power to express our opinion." he nervously laughed. "It's almost as if the only difference is that..."

He started, but didn't have the strength to finish.

What he wanted to say was, that in contrast to him... Snow White has a good ending. The evil Queen dies and even though the girl falls asleep, not only she gets kissed by her true love, but the random dwarves and forest animals make a damn good funeral for her.

He's definitely not asking for true love stuff... But a comfortable coffin does sound nice – as well as the people mourning him. Would someone actually do that for him? The Ex Libris probably don't have the patience and the generosity to arrange a little something of an event. Even if they would, it feels really difficult for the boy to believe in something like that.

...

Suddenly, he hears a sob. It's coming from him.

"Well... At least the old man can't hear me," he thinks before letting the tears free.

***

Once upon a time, there lived a princess named Snow White.

Snow White was very beautiful.

Her skin was as white as snow, her hair as black as the ebony wood and her life – as miserable as the most miserable life could be.

[dreamwreaver]

Thank you for putting that anti-charlastor troll in their place.

Reading that whole debate was just amazing. Everything you said I agreed with and was just so I don't' know, like professional. I really wished Chaggie was a better ship. I want to love it so bad.

Can I be honest? I didn't know they were a couple until episode 5 where Charlie introduced Vaggie to her dad as being "her girlfriend" which was a cute moment. Like I went in blind without knowing anything, no pilot, no anything. The fan content for Chaggie is peak though. The show just did the ship dirty.

Looking back it was pretty obvious. Maybe? If you knew beforehand they were girlfriends. I just thought they were best friends. My mind was blown and I had to pause it for a minute. Like I was short circuiting. I'm pretty clueless though so maybe it was just me.

I thought they had been setting up for Charlastor but guess not! Heh.

I really hope the writers for season 2 give some more Chaggie. I want a couple not just one kiss in an entire season.

But on to my main point: I am a Charlastor shipper through and through. I want to like Chaggie but its hard to ignore the amazing chemistry Alastor and Charlie have.

They both love the stage. Both are extremely extroverted. Yet they are foils of each other. They push and pull. Charlie will hopefully teach him to be more kind and Al teaches her to be more assertive. Also they are such a black and red couple. They just look so damn good together.

I could yap about Charlastor forever. I'm gonna stop.

Anyways, the fact that troller put that nasty ass post into the charlastor tag actually made my blood boil. Thank you. Just thank you so much.

-Joney

Hi there nonny,

Thank you for your kind words. To be quite honest part of me does feel a little bad for the troll, but all indications seem to point to them being old enough to know better. I don't hold any ill will towards them since they just wanted a fight and picked who they thought would be easiest to get one from.

Unfortunately, there seems to be a stereotype that because we're not actively combatting every single anti post that were easy targets who'll take rage bait and run with it. It's not true, but part of the reason I can keep so calm is that all of my petty fandom bullshit is saved for a private discord where my friends and I can laugh at it or discuss issues we have with any other ships without being accused of being homophobic, acephobic, whatever.

Beyond all of that, unfortunately I'm used to this behavior. Most of my ships are problematic in one way or another and even if they're heavily implied canon or outright get married people will find any reason to deny it and take a moral high ground that doesn't really exist. It's fandom, in this case it's a fandom about hell, where bad people are. It's like when people got mad Katie killjoy was an actual homophobe and my response was, "so where do you want the homophobe to go? Heaven? Doesn't that send a worse message?"

I just want to enjoy my ship in my little dumpster. By all means hate the ship, I'm not telling people to like charlastor, just don't leave your hatred in the tag. Be decent is all.

As for chaggie, I really hope that season 2 does them better, for the sake of those nice shippers who just wants enjoy their couple and got so shafted last season. Thanks again nonny!

[pap03]

Okay so I originally wrote this on Discord so apologies for any jank

But I need to get out my mega LOVE theory for Deltarune somehow, and Discord is the only place I've wrote it down lol

Anyways what got me going was this here difference in stats

Both being a post-Snowgrave Kris, just one from the Light World and the other from the Dark World

And this discrepancy would be strange right? If both LV's stood for the same thing

Which I'd why I claim that they do not

Rather that the LV in the Light World still refers to the LOVE of UT

While the LV in the Dark Worlds stands more properly for a "Level" a way of gauging the amount of Experience the Fun Gang have

Doubly true as the Dark World stats measure nowhere "EXP" aka "Execution Points"

From what I can tell Level only goes up upon reaching certain HP values, as Noelle goes from Level 1 to Level 2 in the Dark World

Since Noelle "Levels up" upon finishing just one act of violence in the Dark World

So I think it'll be possible later on to Level up early if you're violent enough

Sorta opposite of how it worked in UT, where you needed to LOVE up to get HP

In Dark Worlds you need to get your HP up to Level up

But that’s a bit of a tangent; continuing on

With the ground rules laid out that LV and LV can exist synchronously the next thought in my ramblings was that I need some proof that Noelle will continue to be our main Puppet, to explain why this LV theory should be relevant

And on that front, I got several bits

Easiest for me to lay out here is that the Survey taker at the beginning of ch 1 has special dialogue if you name yourself after a majority of the party members

This includes: Kris, Susie, and Noelle

All 4 share the same reaction

Secondarily Noelle lays out herself in the hospital that she's gonna figure out what's going on with Kris, which means to me that she'll keep coming around Kris, even despite the coercion into murder

And lastly, Noelle’s crush on Susie has so much unmissable screentime that Chekov would shit his grave if there were no resolution to it

This established leaves the first 2 core tenents of my theory

1. LOVE exists

2. Noelle will be the sole Snowgraver as the game progresses

For the sake of it, let's tackle the ramifications of both of these in order, as 1 heavily leans into 2

1. LOVE as we know it in Undertale exists in some way form or fashion in Deltarune

Natural questions that raises

- Do Darkners count for EXP? Yes, I'd say so, given the inverse effect on how Levels contribute to HP compared to how Undertale's LOVE and HP work, and the fact Noelle gains HP faster than the rest of the Party when they commit violence I'd argue there's a secondary element increasing her vitality, that being her LOVE increasing

- If LOVE exists why isn't Noelle a complete psycho killer in the Light World? Because that's not how LOVE works, by sans's admission LV contributes to making it easier to hurt others, and easier to distance yourself, but never expresses that it creates a want to kill, although that does seem to be a side effect which I'll get into next section

Mechanics of LOVE across Undertale and Deltarune:

For most people who've played a neutral run of Undertale, you'll be remiss to note anything going on as you gain LV. As much as I love Frisk as the blank slate of a protagonist that they are, their lack of emotions makes it hard to tell what exact the differences are between an LV 3 individual and an LV 7 one, differences sans can tell, but we can't really

So then we have to look elsewhere, mainly the Genocide run and comparing characters who may have killed in UT to their murderless counterparts in Deltarune

- Early LV's 1-6

At this point a person has killed a bit, but is also where the effects of each individual LV is the most noticeable, as sans has unique dialog for every LV here

What this tells me is that your first kills change you the most compared to later kills

Also during this LV range we see Frisk start their way through Snowdin in a Geno run, where they skip puzzles without our input, and are generally quieter than even before

I call this part of the LV grind "Getting Colder" for many reasons, partially for the pun, but also how we see Frisk act much more distant, aka cold, towards their surroundings and walk through situations, giving of an energy of "I don't care, let me through"

Considering this is also the LV's you'd end the game at for killing just Toriel or Undyne (two impassable bosses without killing or their special sparing method) that general sentiment persists

For the sake of it, I also reference Gerson and Asgore, Gerson was in the War of Humans and Monsters and has intimate knowledge about human combat and abilities, and while it's canon that no human casualties were suffered through the whole War, I would not be surprised if Gerson had to put down a fellow monster or two during the chaos after the Barrier was first erected. Yet despite that idea, Gerson is still just a bubbly, slightly traumatized, old man in Waterfall telling me that you can work past Early LVs. Yet there's also Asgore, as of the time of me writing this the only character who has canonically (and confirmed to) taken the life of anything, and as of our time encountering him, he's distantly removed from the act he's doing, which is another murder. However I must mention that there's a lot of shit there for Asgore compared to Deltarune's Asgore that could lead to the state he's in beyond LOVE so take that with a grain of salt

- Middle LV's 7-14

This is where an interesting switch occurs, specifically at LV 9 but the larger grouping together sorta encompasses it all. This is where Frisk (yes Frisk I'll elaborate if I have to) begins to enjoy the act of killing, smiling before every encounter, and even reveling in the fear of others, such as when Frisk intimidates Monster Kid just before the Undying fight

Now above I talk about how wanting to kill isn't a symptom of LV, and I still believe that

While this seems to be contradicting evidence to that claim I don't think so, as I think it's around this point that one becomes so distant that the act of killing someone else doesn't invoke any feeling of remorse anymore

Where Frisk's enjoyment is derived from is their "Determination" as at the point they're smiling they've killed every monster they could find up to this point, so they're happy to "finish what they started" and also why the Smile goes away if you abort Geno at this point forward as that goal of eradication is gone

- High LV's 15-19

This is the grouping we know the least about, as the majority of these are Geno exclusive, CORE/Hotland exclusives no less which at this point the whole Underground is on lockdown so any unique traits from here are lost in translation, from best we can tell, anything shy of all kills isn't labeled as "True Evil" by MTT and LV 17 is labeled as "Bad at being evil" by sans

So perhaps there's some room for redemption at this point? Idk, sans doesn't think so at LV 19, but it's an interesting thought

- LV 20

This one gets a special mention just because of how everything goes down

The Mercy Button is gone

Frisk is able to make inputs without Player input

And at this LV it's possible to summon the Demon, a manifestation of the evils you caused and power you gained by pushing this world to its limits that quite literally has the power to attack the game box Undertale is played in

This demon is the single most powerful being we've encountered inside of UT/DR outside of maybe Asriel

Now, with everything LOVE-related established we can also use it as a symptom list to diagnose Noelle at where she's at and take a rough estimate as to how much LOVE a single Snowgrave run would allow for

And well, I won't run yall through the numbers so to speak but she's solidly in the Early LV's

She still has remorse for the deaths she did cause

But she's also able to distance herself from her actions there, could be grief but her interactions with her father on Snowgrave compared to a Main Route shows to me that she's a little more reserved, which also falls in line with Early LV symptoms

So what does that leave?

Well, as someone pointed out to me before, Noelle has some violent tendencies

They're reserved, but come out when say, Berdly also has a crush on Susie, or if it's encouraged (see what this whole post is about lol)

See also the theory that the damage at the beginning of the Cyber World was caused by Noelle, not Queen, and there's reason to see where things may go as Noelle breaches into the Middle LV's

I see her, like Frisk, enjoying the slaughter as things continue on

So to conclude my little LOVE Theory I see the rest of Deltarune going as such

1 more route of us manipulating Noelle into killing, she'll be far more resistive, but I know we'll break through, with the boss of that area that she kills (secret boss or another Lightner) the last we'll see of Noelle she'll have cracked a smile

Then from there on she'll easy, fights will break out just from her instigation, or from others more heroic trying to get in her way

By the end I think we'll have to fight her, and she'll kick our asses

Or we'll have to fight Kris

It's hard to know that far ahead

But using LOVE alone, that's how I see things going

Thanks for reading if you did! Feel free to comment and discuss or ask me questions through my ask box. Hope you enjoyed my transcribed madness lol

[satoverse]

▪︎Summary: Y/n sure likes to keep a lot of secrets to her friends but to the day has finally come and her secrets are exposed will they abandon her or will they stay.

WARNING: mafia!au, non-jujutsu sorcerers!au, modern day!au, angst, mentions of sexual conversations here and there, smut(at some point), TW!mentions of alcohol, fighting, blood, knives, guns, mentions of violence, brainwashed reader(at some point)

PART 1

Vengeance...Blood...Kill..

And with those three words all i could think of was the blood gushing out of their bodies, watching them die mercily...

__________________________

Having to hide such a huge secret is not the easiest thing a human being can achieve to do. Sure, it is easy to hide the fact that you kissed or had sex with your toxic ex to your friends, or hiding the fact that having a massive crush on them is easy again. You see these are all easy secret to hide it from them, but being the boss to one of the most dangerous mafias that has ever existed sure is easy..right?

"Stop sleeping and get up you lazy ass." she says as she flicks my forehead, slowly opening my eyes to look over to my side only to see Nobara looking down at me with her hands crossed. "First of ouch..secondly why should I? I barely got sleep last night." I turn my back at her covering myself from head to toe with the blanke trying to fall back asleep, only to feel the cold air hit my body "Oh shut up it is not my fault you stayed with that damned phone all night plus we promised Shoko and Utahime that we would help them painting their house."

I groan in annoyance as i kick my feet to the mattress "Cant you just go alone and tell 'em that i got sick or something? Noba...I really dont wanna go i feel really tired." and with that guilt washed all over me seeing her looking at me with those disappointed eyes. Turning around to leave my room she stops at the doorstep "You know... oh forget it its not even worth saying you'll always make up excuses again." and with that i watch her leave my room only after a couple of seconds to hear the front door forcefully getting shut. I sigh as i get up from my bed sitting down and looking at the floor 'if only i could tell..if only...'

Truth is I was up all night trying to find the location of Ryomen Sukuna. An infamous mafia leader that has been wanted for years, searching for him is not that easy since...well lets just say he has his own old ways. I get up once again walking towards the bathroom to brush my teeth and do my little sincare morning routine and apply some light make up. I walk back to my room going towards my closet to grab a plain white crop top, some old sweatpants and a jacket. I grab my hat and sunglasses looking at myself once again in the mirror in my living room and then i head out.

___________________________________________

...Ring....Ring...Ring...

'Meet me at _____ in 20 minutes'

I look down to my watch only to see more than 20 minutes have passed "Where the hell is he? Whats taking him so long?". As im about to pull out the flip phone to call him he appears, only to see him breathing heavily with sweat dripping down his forehead to his neck. "Jesus fucking Christ were the hell where you that you had to run." I watch him sit down on of the empty chairs in the room as he waves at me away with his hand, only for me to chuckle at his action. "You literally called a last minute meeting in the middle of fucking NOWHERE and on top of THAT ITS ON THE 50TH FUCKING FLOOR and MIND YOU the elevator does NOT work." I laugh at his sudden tantrum as at the same time I make myself comfortable on the chair that is on the opposite direction of him "Damn it sure is pleasing to see a quiet person throw a whole tantrum about some stairs." He shot at me a death glare as i simply chuckle it away... "Now let's begin shall we..."

After 'bout an hour or so we both grunt to the feeling of disappointment. "This is just so frustrating I FUCKING HATE HIM!" and within seconds the chair has ended up on the other side of the room. He just looks at me unamused as he slightly rolls his eyes "Calm down." thats the only sentence that comes out of his mouth 'damn he went quiet again..' i thought to myself. I go over where the chair is grabing it and bring it close to the table and sit on it. "You know this is just hell for me we will never going to find him or the last remaining antique."

I place my head on the table as i sigh deeply, only to feel big hands on my shoulders to slowly massage them.He looks down at my exposed neck, leaning down to it close to my ear only to whisper.. "Calm down." ...again. He softly pecks the back of my neck as I lean in on his touch of his softly lips, I sigh once again and lean back up to push him away slowly. "Let's just call it a day its already 2pm I need to get back." He crosses his arms as he looks down at me with a raised eyebrow "something happened?". I turn around to look at him with a slight pouty face "Nobara got mad at me again because i bailed on our plans...again and Shoko and Utahime are also probably mad at me too." He just stares at me for a couple of seconds and just shakes his head, "Go ill take care of everything."

My face lits up and i go over to him on tip toes to give him a big hug "You are the best, this is why you are my right hand man." and with that i quickly get out of the room and make my way towards Shoko's house.

...Ring...Ring...Ring...Ring...

'The number you have called is not available at th-'

'sigh...what have i done'

As im walking down the street i notice a bakery, thinking to myself 'since i made them mad i might as well make it up to them'.I go into the shop and look around only to leave the shop with a bunch of sweets in my hands, "Damn they sure will love this..specially Satoru." i chuckle to myself and make my way again towards the house. Walking in narrow alleys sure its a bit scary when you're alone but its even scarier when someone is following, and by someone meaning an enemy.

I cut out routes passing through old buildings, in order for him not to follow me to my friends house I quickly make my way towards and old looking house getting and setting the bags down. I hide behind a wall waiting for him to get lured by my trap and once they are in i quietly and quickly headlock him placing a hand over their mouth. He grabs me by the hands and rolls me over to the ground taking a knife out he tries to knife me in the heart but i quickly roll over, get up and forcefully kick the knife out of his hand with my leg. I grab it and place it over his neck, slowly walking forward for him only to walk backwards, "Who are you and who sent you?" getting amuzed by his scared face, pale face and cold sweat dripping down his forehead.."P-please s-spare m-" ..i give him a smile and with that i slice his neck.

I watch him fall down, gagging trying to get some air only for him to fail as he stops breathing after a couple of minutes. I crouch down at him and grab his shirt to clean the knife. "This is what happens when you dont answer the correct questions that you are being told..now shall we send your boss a quick message?". I cut his shirt off with the knife and i start carving on his body.

'I'll find you'

I clean the knife once again and place it in my pocket making sure to dispose it later. I grab the bags and making my way towards the house once and for good.

After twenty minutes or so i finally arrive at Shoko's house, anxiety slowly building up on my stomach prepared to be yelled at, well...mostly from Utahime. I knock on the door tree time making a quick pause then knocking again two times. The door opens only to be revealed by-

"Utaa...heyy nice to see you" she gave me a glare that sent shiver down my spine "WHERE THE HELL WHERE YOU Y/N I THOUGHT WE PLANED TO-" "i bought sweets" I tell her as i shove the boxes to her face making her to hold them. I get in the house closing the door behind me as I look around taking a big sniff to smell the freshly painted living room. I take my shoes off as i make myself comfortable around "This is a nice apartment i love it" "Thanks took a while to find a nice place like this" Shoko say and as per usual her cigarette never leaving her mouth. I sit down to the floor as the rest of them follow my lead sitting down making a circle.

Utahime places the opened boxes of sweets in the middle so anyone can take as much as they want. "Never thought you'd drop by, your always so "busy" for us and you never stay even if you do its for a short period of time" Nobara says to me while she its a cookie. I drop my head low smiling knowing that those words dont only hurt me but her and the rest of group. "Well-.." "Well what? You always cancel on us saying your vusy yet you never tell us with what, you're always so "mysterious and all that" you weren't like that" Geto says as he cut me off not letting me say a single word. My heart feels shattered I've been so focused of finding Sukuna that i forgot that i also gad a normal life to live and friends that actually do wanna be in my life.

I bring my head up high and give a soft smile "Im sorry I truly am I've been busy with work so much, that I've forgotten about reality, I've working double shifts and I've also work late night shifts so its-" "Don't even worry about that" Gojo says to me while wrapping a hand around my shoulder, looking down at me while giving me a soft smile "We just want you to be happy and healthy nothing else if you need us we will always be by your side" I smile at his kind words as i shove him away while giving him a slap on the shoulder "You corny bitch dont talk to me all lovely like that you just saying that because i got sweets" they all chuckle and giggle at the remark as they all agree with me.

It is nice being like this with everyone I feel like Im finally free like there is nothing stopping me for being with my loved ones...

___________________________________________

Looking down at the the body he laughs hysterical as he takes a picture. "I'll find you huh...adorable." He places his phone back into his pocket and calls out his man telling them to dispose the body. He gets in the backseats of the car telling the drive to drive off. Pulling his phone out he looks at the picture once again chuckling to himself.. "Boss will be entertained with this"

[kumoriyami-xiuzhen]

Hakuoki Drama CD - Hijikata Biyori Track 22 Eng translation

Ended up falling asleep after the news yesterday broke with 22 lines not translated... 😅

I'm going to try and get more biyoris done next week since I plan on starting translating the Deemo epilogue and extras next month... and I need to do something about how I'm going to be away in Japan for the Morimyu concert in July and there's no way in hell I'll be translating then.

Hakuoki Drama CD - Hijikata Biyori Track 22 - Tea Time

Translation by KumoriYami

Kondou: Ah, Toshi. You've come just in time.

Hijikata: What's up? Kondou-san. Did something happen?

Kondou: Yes. I was just thinking about having some tea. I was looking to have someone to join for me.

Hijikata: Is there something special about the tea? Could it be there's something I need to know for this tea party?

Kondou: No, I just wanted to sit down and have tea.

Hijkata: Ah, ahahaha... what, is that it?

Kondou: What do you mean by that?

Hijikata: Kondou-san, if you want to drink tea, you can just drink it by yourself, right?

Kondou: Hm? Ah, Toshi, it's not like that. It's true that there are times when the tea itself is the purpose of drinking tea, but that's not the case about the tea I'm talking about right now. Regardless if it's two people or a group of people drinking tea together, this can all deepen the emotions between each other. Don't forget that this type of tea also exists.

Hijikata: Ahh, I get it, I get it. I'll join you then.

Kondou: Really, that's good. It's really nice to have tea here like this, in this season.

Hijikata: Ah, yeah. Then, what is it that you wanted to talk about? Kondou-san.

Kondou: Talk?

Hijikata: Yes.

Kondou: : Ah, yes. But I don't have something in particular to say to you.

Hijikata:...What? Didn't you ask me to drink tea because you had something to tell me?

Kondou: No, that isn't the case.

Hijikata: You said that drinking tea can deepen emotions...

Kondou: Ah... ahahaha, I meant that if two people can drinking sea side by side like this, they can deepen their relationship.

Hijikata: What. I thought you'd have something to say to me.

Kondou: Ahaha. That's just like Toshi to think that way. Well, it's true that I'd feel bad if I didn't have something to talk to Toshi about. That's right...

Hijikata: You don't have to think too hard.

Kondou: How is everyone at headquarters doing?

Hijikata: Ha? Ah, everyone's doing fine. You can see that with one glance.

Kondou: Really. That's good. Since coming here, I've rarely had the opportunity to speak to each of them. To be honest, I don't know if everyone's been doing well or not.

Hijikata: Is that so? Well, they're the same as always. Souji is still cheeky, Harada, Heisuke, and Shinpachi are always causing a fuss, Saito is working too hard, Sannan-san is… well, he's smiling as he lectures as usual, and Gen-san is doing a great job behind the scenes.

Kondou: Hehe, that's proof that everyone is definitely doing well.

HIjikata: Haha, that's true.

Kondou: How about you, Toshi? Are you okay?

Hijikata: Ah? Fu... well, it's as you can see.

Kondou: Are you eating well?

Hijikata: Yes, I'm eating.

Kondou: Are you sleeping well?

Hijikata: I'm sleeping well. What's going on, Kondou-san? You're speaking as if your someone's elder brother. Kondou: Ahahaha! Sorry, sorry! I don't mean it like that.

Hijikata: I won't ask/I'm not going to ask that.

Kondou: Huh?

Hijikata: I mean I'm not going to ask Kondou-san "how are you".

Kondou: There's naturally no need to ask that. Because I'm as you can see.

Hijikata: As I can see... that's most difficult part to judge.

Kondou: Really? Shouldn't that be the easiest thing to judge?

Hijikata: Kondou-san, you should at least be what I see. Otherwise, I won't know what to believe.

Kondou: What, is that how it is? If that's the case, leave it to me. Don't worry.

Hijikata: Ah. By the way, Kondou-san, would you like another cup of tea?

Kondou: Oh, you're really smart, Toshi.

Hijikata: That's because... just pouring a little bit of empty cup feels feels very annoying.

Kondou: Iya, ahaha~ sorry. Ahahaha!

Hijikata: Ahahahaha~

---end---

[creampuffqueen]

tell us about the tlok gen 2 kids

ask and you shall receive!!!! making fankids is such an obsession of mine lol

so i have futures and kids planned out for pretty much everyone, but i'll just go over the main krew ships + kainora for now. and i'll try to keep it kind of brief but i have So Many thoughts about them so we'll see if i'm successful. i have like. an entire labelled timeline. it's wild

under a cut because this got so long holy crap

the easiest to start with is the bopal kids. they get married a couple years after the end of tlok and start having kids pretty soon after. they end up with four kids (somewhat considering adding a fifth but we'll see. there's already so many ocs)

their eldest is jade, who is an earthbender. then they have a pair of identical twin boys, named san and goji. san is named after bolin's father. san is an airbender, goji is an earthbender. their fourth child is a girl named tempa, who is an airbender. she actually ends up becoming blind later in life. not whatever toph had, as she was born seeing, but she had some degenerative disease that slowly took her eyesight. she actually ends up developing a technique similar to seismic sense, but with airbending, to help her get around! she keeps her head fully shaved so she can always feel vibrations in the air

the next up to have kids is, surprisingly, kai and jinora. this was not intentional on their part. but they've been dating since they were like 12-13, so i honestly don't think it's much of a stretch that they would end up becoming parents as teenagers. pema and tenzin are a bit upset that their daughter got pregnant at 17, but at this point they've accepted kai into the family, and they respect the young couple's decision to keep and raise the baby

and then after they have their first baby, they decide that they're going to hold off on getting married until their family is complete, so all their kids can be a part of the wedding. like bolin and opal, they end up having four kids as well. all of them are airbenders. their first born is a boy named sangye, second is another boy named tadashi, third is a girl named zaya, and fourth is a girl named tara. it's the jinora and tenzin parallels for me lol. two boys, two girls, four airbenders. despite their young age they are very good parents

then we have the korrasami babies. they have the smallest family, with just two kids. i did some research and as it turns out, sperm donation/artificial insemination procedures were a thing in the 1920s. of course they were WILDLY unethical at the time but hey, they did exist. this is how they end up with their kids. mako is the donor, which i know some people may find that weird but mako is their best friend, i feel like they would rather have a donor that they know and trust than just. some random guy

korra is pregnant with their first baby, who they name katara. she's a waterbender. asami is pregnant with their second baby, a little boy they name hiro, after asami's dad. hiro is a nonbender. they are literally the best moms ever <3

and last but not least, we have wuko's kids. for the longest time they are the cool, childless gay uncles. i think they're both really good with kids, but neither are ready to be parents for a long time. not to mention in my timeline it takes a solid ten years for wu to get the new democratic earth kingdom up and running smoothly enough that he can abdicate. and even after he abdicates and he and mako get married, they're still unsure about kids for a few more years. when they do decide to have kids, they both for sure want to adopt. i have a whole separate post i could make about mako quitting the police force to become a social worker and opening up a youth shelter. but he knows he wants to help out kids, so hopefully none suffer the way he and bolin did. wu does not want to have any bio kids, as he wants the royal bloodline to end with him so there is no possible claim to any kind of throne

but then korra and asami are like 'hey, if you guys want a baby, we're cool with helping out' because i mean mako already helped them have their family, they can do the same for him and wu. and since they're offering, mako and wu decide to take them up on it. korra ends up being a surrogate for them, and they welcome a little baby girl that they name naoki, for mako's mom

then, soon after naoki is born, they end up finding a trio of very young sisters out on the streets. their mother passed away, their father walked out on them, and they have no other family. the eldest girl is only 8 years old. when mako meets her it feels like he's looking into a window at his past self. the girls are very frightened, but mako and wu are able to earn their trust enough to help them out. and in the process of caring for them, they end up totally falling in love with these kids. they ask them if they want to be adopted. all three say yes

the girls are named kasumi, ryoko, and hikari. all three are firebenders. naoki also ends up being a firebender. there's so many firebenders in the wuko house. i'm also spreading my girldad mako agenda. him and wu taking these girls in and giving them a family is actually super emotionally healing for him. he's able to make sure another set of siblings out on the steet has a family

anyway that's a very basic rundown!! i love chatting about my next gen kiddos so so much so thanks for asking! and of course if anyone has any questions about specific kids or families please feel free to ask!!!

[messinwitheddie]

Mr. Purple? Why do the irkens want to concur the universe? Isn’t you planet enough to rule over? Do you only target weak inferior planets? Or the ones whith higher value when it comes to technology and other resources? During the invasion, how much of the population do you keep alive and have serving you?

Purple (takes a long, nervous pause.)

"Swarm, conquer, consume...

That is the Irken way. That's always been our way. Mother Irk isn't much to rule over anymore; just a giant smeetery/ basic training camp for new cadets. Our home planet pretty much governs itself at this point. My ancestors built advanced space crafts to explore new worlds with new options. The empire expanded eons before YOU even heard of our existence. I find it really insulting that you insinuate I couldn't govern an intergalactic empire, only mother Irk.

To be perfectly clear, we invade in pursuit of profit and advancement; to better ourselves, not out of spite or malice or hatred. We invade because we CAN.

Might makes Right. WE are the mightier. Until we face off with another race that successfully drives US to extinction, we will continue exploring the universe and invading new worlds.

We target planets that could potentially serve some purpose to the empire; even if the purpose is just a planet-size parking structure, or an urgent medical care hub or a snacking pitstop or a refeuling station or what have you. Not every planet we claim for the empire is inhabited with sentient life. Many planets we claimed for conquests in the earlier centuries before my rule were just desolate rocks we could build shopping centers on.

It's a case by case basis how we decide to deal with the inhabitants of targeted planets. The whole point of sending trained invaders is to assess whether or not the native inhabitants are more useful to the empire as labor-slaves or completely extinct. Invaders are supposed to assess the quickest and easiest way to take over the planet. The less conflict or bloodshed to our side the better. That concept is lost on Zim. That's not MY fault, ok?

Organic sweeps are quick and merciful. To engage in war with the Irken empire is foolish on the enemy's part, believe me. Don't prolong your suffering with opposition. Stay out of the way of the Massive's warpath and we won't go to war with you. Easy, right? Right.

If that answer is not satisfactory to you, it's probably because you species isn't mighty enough to stop a legitimate Irken invasion to your planet. That negatively reflects upon YOUR species moreso than ours."

Reg "You're chanting a mantra the empire drilled into you your whole life; not exercising your own free will. You can't possibly believe any of that shit deep down."

Zim "Tell me, R-r-r-r-r-r-rginald; only counting since you were born a decade or so ago, how many genocides have been carried out on earth by humans against other humans?"

Reg "... At least 10 that I can list off the top of my head, but-"

Zim "And you have the nerve to condem the Irken Armada for launching invasions? Only a human would be so hypocritical. Wipe that self-righteous scowl off your stupid monkey face! Being too inferior to defend yourself against us doesn't make your species morally superior to mine."

Reg "Last I checked, my dad successfully defended us against you a bunch of times."

Zim *insulted growl*

Reg "I can't speak for my whole species, so I'm going to choose to believe you don't speak for the entirety of yours."