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sleepy-shinx · 9 months ago

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Fellow submas fans what are your favorite reunion scenarios

And I want to hear two things from y’all:

1. Your favorite way to imagine the reunion happening in your head

2. Your favorite reunion scene in a currently existing fanfiction (AND TELL ME THE FIC/LINK IT SO I CAN READ IT IF I HAVEN’T ALREADY)

My response to prompt 1 turned longer than expected so I’m putting it under the read more, but my answer to 2 is fucking @dittolicous’s fic ‘the only way to be sure of catching a train is to miss the one before it’ I swear to god it’s the most delicious submas fic I’ve ever read I have reread it so many times purely for the reunion alone but then I get sucked into the rest because it’s just a beautiful story and all of the characterization is my absolute favorite and. It. Is. AMAZING.

HERE’S THE LINK. READ IT.

Anyway my answer to #1 is below the cut- it’s long- it got away from me- I would love for y’all to read it but if you don’t it’s chill and I’d still love to hear your own thoughts on my prompts-

For me for #1 I LOVE the idea of Ingo getting his memories back but somehow the reunion is still a surprise for both him and Emmet. The way I have it play out in my head is a whole story that could hypothetically be a fanfiction if it weren’t for the fact that I have very few details lined out and also that takes effort.

But essentially Volo’s still being a bitch but after a talk with Akari, Arceus realizes some of the mistakes it made with bringing her into Hisui with no prior warning and forcing her to tackle everything alone, so it approaches her and Ingo to request their help in stopping Volo once and for all, returning both of their memories at the same time. It also promises to send them help, but does not elaborate on what the help will exactly look like. It does say that it will call on them for assistance once it has chosen those who will join them. It also says that if they are successful in their endeavors, they will be rewarded with one favor from the God.

Naturally after getting his memories back Ingo’s a whole mess of grief but having committed to staying in Hisui for the time being he has no choice but to stay. In this, Akari is Dawn the DPP protag and Arceus gave her a false memory of what her name was when she was sent to Hisui. She’s also not doing super great after getting her memories back but not as bad as Ingo who was there longer than her (I’ve settled on 4 years for Ingo and 1.5 years for Dawn)

However, Arceus may have seemed like it was still deciding who to send when it spoke to them, but it already knew exactly who to send.

And it involved righting the wrongs committed by Volo and Giratina with the space-time distortions.

Cut to modern day Unova! Emmet is a wreck in his brother’s absense, but he’s doing better than he was in the first couple years. Things have changed for those Ingo left behind; Elesa and Skyla start dating while he’s gone in this fic, and I like to imagine that Iris becomes Champion in his absense (specifically because Hil(da/bert) were still missing, so Unova technically had no Champion and Alder had fully retired from the battling scene. This was leading to complications in getting clearance to branch out the search for Ingo to other regions and Iris, fully sick of it, challenges the League herself and Drayden calls in a favor from Alder to get her a ‘Champion’ to battle. And she ends up being one of Unova’s best Champions in many different ways! Also I imagine the events of BW2 absolutely happened except Rosa/Nate decided not to challenge the Elite Four. Oh god that was quite a tangent uh)

And then one night four years after his disappearance (and like two weeks after Arceus asks Ingo and Dawn for their help), Emmet and Elesa both have the same very weird dream.

In which Arceus asks them both for their assistance, because shit’s going down in ancient Sinnoh and it needs more human help in getting it to stop. It does NOT tell them why EXACTLY they specifically are being asked, just that there IS a specific reason it’s asking them of all people and that they won’t regret going. It gives them two days to think and decide, also offering them the reward of a favor if they succeed.

This gives the two of them time to not only decide, but also TELL THEIR LOVED ONES THAT THIS IS HAPPENING

Emmet’s initially hesitant about doing it, but the favor seals the deal for him. With no context to what Arceus is doing at this point, he is determined to try to use the favor he will receive from the God to get Ingo back. He doesn’t really tell anyone except Elesa, not wanting to get anyone’s hopes up in case Arceus is unable to help, but deep down he hopes that if NOTHING else he will at least get closure.

Elesa was down from the start, she has no reason to say no and the favor is very enticing. For reasons.

(Cute side note I only have Elesa’s favor decided on. And she asks Arceus to ensure that on her and Skyla’s wedding day, the weather will be absolutely perfect. Perfect temperature, partly cloudy, slight breeze. Just exactly what they need for a beautiful wedding. And Arceus gifts her a pen that it tells her to write the date down with once it is decided upon and it will make sure it happens.)

(I also think that up until that point the two of them had absolutely talked about getting married but Elesa wasn’t ready because she had decided years ago that if she ever got married she wanted the twins to walk her down the aisle (bad relationship with her parents) and. yeah)

Anyway! They were instructed to go to Sinnoh if they decided to go and so Skyla flies them there (she doesn’t stay in Sinnoh, it was made quite clear that Emmet and Elesa would potentially be gone for a couple months (and they are)). They go up Mount Coronet and climb The Stairs into Arceus’s domain to meet with Arceus in the flesh this time.

Where, before sending them to Hisui, it tells them a story. About a man named Volo, who wished to remake the world so no one would suffer, so he manipulated Giratina into doing his bidding and started ripping tears open in space-time. Creating space-time distortions, and eventually even the rift above Mount Coronet.

It also says that when were opened, usually they connected Hisui to the modern world, and usually, the rift openings that were much smaller in the modern day than in Hisui, would open in areas far enough away from human civilization to prevent humans from being sucked through them.

With one notable exception.

Arceus reveals that four years ago, one particular distortion opened in the Hisuian Icelands that connected specifically to the subway tunnels underneath Nimbasa City.

And Emmet and Elesa understand instantly.

Both are a mess at this point, Emmet much more so. He hadn’t expected to get answers right off the bat. But there’s the terror rising in his heart of if his brother was dropped into unfamiliar, freezing cold territory 200 years in the past, would he have survived that???

He asks Arceus with a choked voice if his brother is still alive.

Arceus responds by calling Ingo into its domain, having called upon him prior to this to ‘ensure that those it was sending to the past would have someone to guide them through the unfamiliar time and place’.

Leaving the twins open to having a truly glorious, loud, and extremely emotional surprise reunion.

(Aside from knowing it wanted to send Ingo and Dawn’s loved ones back to be reunited with them, Arceus thought it would be VERY funny to have a team of six humans like humans have teams of six Pokemon. Barry and Lucas end up being the other two sent back to Hisui, to reunite with Dawn.)

I have not a lot of details about the meat of this story figured out. The vague outline is Emmet having separation anxiety, Elesa feeling like a weight is lifted off of her shoulders because she no longer has to grieve Ingo while simultaneously keep Emmet going despite his own heavier grief, Ingo having serious identity issues and feeling inadequate because he forgot Emmet while his brother grieved him so heavily, so he doesn’t talk to him about his own trauma and grief and ends up having a mental breakdown eventually that Emmet helps him through, and Volo has found some other legendary from another region that he’s using to try and remake the world again. I haven’t decided which one.

And then once Volo is beat they go home, both twins firmly convinced that their reunion was Arceus granting them their favors early as ya know, Emmet wanted his brother back and Ingo wanted his FAMILY back. Arceus catches on to this and promptly informs them that no, that was part of its plan from the beginning, that it was merely righting a wrong it should have righted long before then, and that their favors are still very much available to them. They do not use them at that time, since they did not expect to still have the favors, and they did not have anything else in mind.

(Elesa asks for her aforementioned one on the spot. At this point she’s so excited to have a much more serious conversation with Skyla about their future, and with her best friend alive and safely home, she’s finally ready for the next step.)

All the weary time travelers are returned to modern Sinnoh. Skyla hops on her plane the moment Elesa calls. They all go to Twinleaf town, Unovans included while they wait for Skyla. Dawn reunites with her Mom.

Skyla is fucking ecstatic when she sees Ingo’s alive, and they fly home to Unova after saying goodbye to Dawn, Barry, Lucas, and Johanna. They specifically fly to Opelucid, thinking Uncle Drayden’s house is a better place for Ingo to readjust to the modern day than their apartment in the middle of bustling Nimbasa City.

They are absolutely correct, but that doesn’t stop the breakdown Ingo has when he finally comes to terms with the fact that he’s home and can rest and not have to worry about his safety in the wilderness with angry wild Pokemon constantly posing threats to his well-being.

But he has his family by his side, who are more than happy to help him through it :3

#pokemon #submas #subway boss ingo #warden ingo #pokemon legends arceus #subway boss emmet #gym leader elesa #vague outline of a story I constantly rotate in my head #akari #dawn #unova #hisui #arceus simultaneously being a bitch but also it does better and rights its wrongs #reunions #reunion #long post

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alpacaparkaseok · 4 years ago

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The Pact - Date #4

Pairing/Genre: OT7 BTS x reader (not poly), idol!BTS, best friend BTS

Word Count: 5.6k

Premise: The truth about the pact the boys have about you has been revealed. What happens when you agree to go on a single date with each of them?

Warnings: none, just some of the fluffiest fluff that ever did fluff

a/n: *heavy breathing into a paper bag* EVERYTHING IS FINE, JUST PLEASE LET ME KNOW YOUR THOUGHTS M’KAY

Date #4

series masterlist ∆∆∆ join the taglist

You’ve made it to Friday night without hearing a single thing about your upcoming date. Snuggled up on your couch, watching a rerun of NCIS and wishing that you could invite Hobi over to watch it with you, you hardly notice the sound of your phone pinging. It isn’t until your eyes are flying open at the sudden recollection of falling asleep on this very couch while Namjoon snacked on his McDonalds that you notice your phone pinging for the second time.

“Finally,” you sigh, scrambling to grab it from off the coffee table. As expected, it’s a text from Jungkook. However, the more you reread it, the more confused you grow.

“Check the mailbox?” You wonder aloud, shuffling off the couch and slipping your shoes on. Heading outside to investigate, you notice a suspicious car slowly driving by.

You know that car. And you’re pretty sure you recognize the people inside of it who are desperately trying to hide. You wave at them, laughing when Jungkook raises his hand to wave back only to have it slapped away by Jin, who laughs at the boy who obviously forgot that they were supposed to be hiding.

Stepping up to your mailbox, you eye the hastily sealed envelope before taking it back inside. The boys speed off into the night, leaving you alone with your thoughts as you rip into the letter.

Not letter, you realize as you slide the slip of paper out.

Boarding pass, with the final destination covered by a slip of dark tape and a firm note begging you not to remove it. And a teasing sentence that has you barking out a laugh.

You like surprises, don’t you?

When there’s a knock on your door, you’re only aware of two things.

1. Your shirt is on backwards.

2. Only one eye is completely open. The other is still half-closed, trying to cling to sleep. You can’t really blame it. You were up until three trying to not freak out, and it’s barely six in the morning now.

“Coming,” you groan out as you attempt to throw your shirt on the correct way. Padding over to the door, you realize that there may be some perks to beginning your date this early in the morning. One obvious point being the fact that you’re too groggy to go through your usual freakout before opening up the door.

When you do open the door, it takes a moment to discern who’s actually on the other side.

Hidden beneath a long coat and black ball cap, Jimin looks at you with a look that rivals your own exhaustion. In fact, the way his puffy eyelids seem to be competing with his bread cheeks has you turning into a giggling mess right there in the doorway.

Jimin winces. “What’s so funny?” He croaks out. You shake your head, impossibly endeared by the boy before you. One of your best friends, the one whose words of encouragement have helped you throughout this entire dating process.

Today, you really feel his words in full force. You deserve to go on some fun dates with your friends. Just enjoy it.

“Are you regretting this yet?” You shoot back. Now Jimin does crack a smile, opening his eyes fully to regard you.

“Ask me again in a few hours.” He sways on your porch, stretching and yawning. “Got everything?”

You hurry back inside, a bit of adrenaline pumping through your system now that you’re actually about to go on this date.

While you’re pretty sure you passed over into ‘wildest dream’ territory approximately three dates ago, you still can’t quite wrap your head around everything.

While you’re running around like a mad-woman trying to gather up your things, you don’t notice Jimin easing inside and quietly closing the door behind him. He watches you with a forgotten smile on his lips, tilting his head back against the door so he doesn’t have to open his eyes all the way.

You’re just double checking that you have your passport and boarding pass when a familiar hand wraps around your arm. Gently turning you around to face him, Jimin still wears his smile as he pulls into his embrace.

Once you’re nestled into him, you let go of all the tension in your shoulders with a great big sigh. Jimin speaks against your hair, the vibrations of his voice running up and down your spine.

“I miss you,” he mumbles.

You can’t help but chuckle, thinking that he’s still too tired to think straight. “But I’m right here…?”

He shakes his head, taking the opportunity to nuzzle in a little closer. “I miss you all the time, though. Even when you’re right in front of me.”

You pull away just enough to see his face. He smiles down at you, almost as though completely unaware of the sad statement he just made. “That’s a sad feeling,” you whisper. There’s nothing for your to do but acknowledge it.

He nods slowly, stepping back and gesturing for you to hand him your bag. “Sometimes, yeah. It’s just the truth.”

And with that, he whisks you away.

It’s been ages since you last traveled so far, but you take advantage of the chartered plane Jimin somehow convinced Bang Sihyuk to let him borrow, and stretch out.

Jimin does the same, bringing the blanket up to his chin while giving you a mock salute mere minutes after the plane took off.

“See you in ten hours,” he says before closing his eyes. You grin, absolutely positive that you won’t be able to sleep at all.

However, when you hear your name being called ages later, you crack an eye open to see none other than Park Jimin grinning like a fiend above you. It takes you a long moment to remember even getting on a plane, let alone what’s actually happening.

“We’re about an hour away,” Jimin chimes, giving you space to sit up and hopefully wipe the drool off of your face without him noticing. “So, would you like to know what our plans are for the day?”

“Yes,” you croak out, stretching. A glance at Jimin shows you that he must have changed clothes and gotten ready while you were sleeping. He now sports a black bucket hat paired with a dark t-shirt and mismatched denim jacket. He taps his boots on the floor, a sign of his excitement.

“Did you sleep well?” He asks. “You were out for nearly nine hours.”

You blink. How that happened is beyond you. Perhaps it had something to do with all of the overthinking you’ve been up to over the past week, leaving you utterly drained. “I slept great,” you admit. “Will you tell me where we’re going now?”

You peek out the window to see if that’ll give you a hint, but all you see it blue skies and unmarked land below.

“I will when we land,” he says. “First thing’s first, I’m sure you’re hungry. I was thinking we grab some food first thing. Now, take your pick: inside or outside?”

You glare at him for not revealing the location yet. For all you know, he could have paid someone to just fly the plane around in circles for hours and land you in Busan.

“Uh…outside.”

Jimin smiles, clearly pleased with your choice. “Good. Ok, next choice. Basilica or shopping?”

“B-basilica?!” You spit out, looking at Jimin as though he just announced he was taking you to the moon. “Where are we-“ You stop mid-sentence, holding your breath as is your habit whenever you get excited. “Wait…”

Jimin’s smile only grows. “Yes?” He asks with perfect piety.

Leave it to Park Jimin to look at a 24-hour window and decide to take you to Russia.

The second you’re off the plane and jumping into a taxi, you’re squealing like a school-girl.

“Park Jimin, I swear if this is all some dream and I’m about to wake up soon-” you hardly finish your sentence, mouth dropping open as you pass by a huge cathedral.

Jimin, on the other hand, looks quite content. He’s been here several times before; a fact that you’ve always brought up when talking about travelling with the boys. Russia has been on the top of your bucket-list for years now. Every time Jimin went he’d make sure to bring you back something special.

For years you’ve been half-planning to go on a trip with him the next time he went. Of course, you never actually believed that you’d go. But still, it was worth dreaming about.

“It’s not Moscow,” Jimin laments from your side. “But I’ve always favored St. Petersburg.”

For good reason.

It’s a clear day, the sun shining off of the city streets as though they were made of gold and not the same concrete found all over the world. People appear to be in high spirits as well; many couple wandering about hand in hand.

And you’re here. With Jimin.

Just like you always dreamed about.

So when you make it to your destination where the two of you would be eating brunch, you can’t help but chew on your lip as tears spring to your eyes.

“Jimin-ah,” you begin as you’re led to your table. It’s outside, which you’d chosen. Facing a river which is filled with ferries and tourists chattering freely.

“Yeah?” He asks, taking in your expression and instantly reaching across the table to grab your hand. “Everything alright? Maybe you slept too much. Or is your stomach upset from the flight? I know that happens to me sometimes on longer flights-”

You shake your head. “No, it’s just…” you sigh, trying to figure out how to best voice what you’re feeling. “You brought me to Russia.”

Jimin squints at you as though reading a book that’s in a foreign language. “…yes.” When you don’t make eye-contact with him, he raises his eyebrows. “Is this making you uncomfortable? I knew we should’ve talked about it first, but everyone was so excited so I automatically thought that you would be too, you know? It’s just, we’ve talked about this for forever, so I thought it’d be fun to actually bring you. Since I couldn’t, before.”

You blink. “Everyone was excited about it?”

“Oh, yeah,” Jimin nods, sitting back in his seat. “Is that what you’re worried about? That I’m not being fair?”

Despite the hat sitting low on his head, you can see the worried glimmer in Jimin’s eyes. “I guess…” you squirm in your seat. “I really want to be here. I do. But don’t you think it’s a bit…well, it’s a bit much? For a first date? I mean, I would’ve been happy going through a drive-thru and chatting for a while.”

Now it’s Jimin’s turn to look a little lost. “Oh.” He scratches the back of his neck. “I guess I never thought of it that way.”

A waiter comes by to check on you, and Jimin kindly explains that you’ll need more time to decide. Once they’ve disappeared from sight, Jimin sets his menu down and leans over the table.

“Can I be honest with you?”

“Of course.”

Nodding to himself, Jimin looks out over the river before turning back to face you. “This is possibly the most rash, stupid, bizarre thing I’ve ever done.”

You choke on a laugh at his sudden declaration. “What?”

“It is. Seriously. I mean, I’ve traveled a lot and done plenty of stupid things, as you well know-”

“Oh, like the swimming pool incident-”

“Yah,” he waves you off frantically, “I wasn’t asking for examples!”

“Ah, right.” You gesture for him to continue, a grin growing on your face. Once he can tell you’re not about to go recounting every embarrassing moment you’ve witnessed, Jimin goes on.

“It really is stupid. I mean, who does this?” He points around the restaurant. “You’re right, we could’ve totally done something like we usually do; grab some takeout and chill. Maybe play a card game and lose miserably.”

“Wait, you lose or I lose?”

“Both. You know Jin would be there and he’d win.”

“Touché.”

Jimin sighs, throwing his chin onto the palm of his hand and looking at you with unveiled tenderness. “It’s not very often that we get free reign like this. So I thought it’d be nice, you know. To get to go do something a little crazy with you.”

You’re reminded of Taehyung’s route through Seoul, where he had a similar motive. If given the chance, wouldn’t you also like to take a day to just live a little? Even if it is a little unconventional?

Leaning back in your chair, you let out a breath of relief before bringing the menu up to your eyes and wiggling your brows at Jimin. “Well, then. I guess that makes sense. Although, I hope you know that you’re ruining my expectations for all other men I ever date.”

Mirroring your position, Jimin winks at you from over his menu. “Isn’t that the point?”

Brunch is delicious. Would would’ve thought that Russians have nailed French-style breakfast foods?

You’re just scooping up the last of your crêpe when Jimin leans back with a satisfied groan. “So, what do you wanna do next?”

“Wait, I’m supposed to choose?” You ask. Jimin nods, languidly looking you over and smiling crookedly when he spots a bit of chocolate on your face. You quickly wipe it off. “I don’t know…” you look around for inspiration, eyes landing on the ferry closest to you. “Oh, that. Can we do that?”

“Sounds perfect. That’ll take us to the basilica, I think.”

You chuckle darkly. “You think? Wow, how wild. Lost in Russia.”

Jimin smiles warmly at the waiter that swoops in to hand him the check. If he recognizes Jimin, you have no idea. He simply waits patiently as Jimin hands him his card and waits for him to return.

“Lost in Russia?” Jimin claps his hands together, nearly slipping off his seat as he giggles. “Take that, Shawn Mendes!”

You groan even as you laugh, burying your face in your hands.

The ferry is bustling with tourists, making you buzz with excitement as you finally board. Jimin makes sure to keep his hand in yours so you don’t get separated, keeping his head down when a couple of people look his way with curious expressions.

Once the ferry begins its slow journey, you find yourself standing before a railing overlooking the calm waters. Jimin comes to stand behind you, resting his hands on either side of your own which cling to the railing. He rests his chin on your shoulder, humming a tune you don’t recognize.

“Aren’t you the one that loves Anastasia?” Jimin asks, the question a mere hum in your ear.

“Mmhm. That’s me.”

“You know that it’s-“

“Aish, Park Jimin if you’re about to go off about how historically inaccurate it is, I’ll personally shove you off this ferry.”

Jimin’s laugh has him resting against you completely, hiding his face in your back and making your cheeks turn a little red as people look your way.

“It’s a great movie,” Jimin concedes. “Really, it is.”

You nod. “Yes. It is. And don’t you forget it.”

“I’m guessing that you love Dmitri, then?” He’s returned to his spot at your shoulder, arms sliding in a little tighter until his pinkies are linked through yours. You can’t help but smile at the sweet gesture, glancing down to take a mental picture.

“…yes.” You respond, a little wary that he’s about to start bashing on what is perhaps the most attractive animated character you’ve ever laid eyes on.

Instead, Jimin releases you from his grip and comes to stand by your side. Looking out over the river as though greeting an old friend, he rests his forearms against the railing. “What do you like about him?”

Well, isn’t today just chalk full of surprises.

“Well, for starters, he admits when he’s wrong. Despite the fame and money that he’s after, he’s actually pretty humble.” Your eyes drift over to the boy by your side. “He’s handsome,” Jimin snorts, nodding along reverently when you shoot him a glare. “And he just so clearly cares about Anastasia. Like, he’s willing to step out of the picture if that means she can be happy.”

A basilica comes into view, but you suspect that’s not the only thing taking your breath away.

No, it’s partly due to the fact that somehow, you’ve found yourself describing Jimin. If he realizes it, he doesn’t let on. Instead, he just winks at you, shooting you a smirk.

“Gotcha. Humble and hot.”

As the ferry docks at the opposite shore, you wonder if it’s too late to throw him overboard.

The basilica is open for tourists, and you find that you’ve got a kink in your neck from staring up at the ceiling the entirety of the tour.

Neither one of you understand a single word that’s being said, not wanting to wait around for a Korean translator. Instead, you opt for nodding along and laughing when everyone else does.

You have your arm linked through Jimin’s, trying to get a good look at a painted mural when he whispers something to you.

“You know, I heard that you and Namjoon had a fun time last week.”

Quick enough to give yourself whiplash, you turn to stare at Jimin with wide, guilty eyes. “W-what are you…I mean, yeah. Yeah, it was nice.”

Jimin bursts out laughing, immediately drawing the attention of the tour group. The tour guide gives the two of you a disapproving glare, which Jimin takes as an invitation to hang back as everyone else continues walking.

“Nice? Really? I thought the man would be a better kisser than just nice.”

Absolutely horrified, you bury your head in your hands. “Ergh…didn’t think…can’t believe he’d…”

“What was that? Can’t hear you,” Jimin teases with a knowing smirk. You smack his arm instinctively, only making him laugh harder.

“Why would you bring that up now?” You whine, running a hand through your hair.

“Why wouldn’t I? In my defense, I at least kept quiet about it for hours.”

You squint at him, “How did you find out?”

“Told me the second he got in the car,” Jimin replies, smile growing at your expression. You’d thought that was Jimin who’d been on the phone with Namjoon when he’d called to be picked up. “If it makes you feel any better, it was absolutely hilarious.”

“How would that make me feel better?!”

Only cackling in response, Jimin takes off after the group. You glare after him, pressing your hands to your cheeks and closing your eyes.

Wrong decision. The second you close your eyes you’re presented with an onslaught of memories; primarily one of Namjoon towering over you in a wardrobe.

You chase after Jimin, determined to bring up one of his embarrassing moments that will surely make him turn into a blushing mess.

“Ok, but at least I know not to eat a whole bag of sugar-free gummy bears-”

“I’ve gotta say, I’ve never been kicked out of a basilica before.”

The afternoon sun has quickly turned to the tell-tale golden hue of the evening. Jimin walks hand in hand with you down the street, the two of you the picture of calm and content.

“Me neither,” you sigh.

The tour guide didn’t take kindly to your bickering, quickly pointing to the exit once you’d resorted to attempting to stomp on Jimin’s feet like a child. He’d deserved it, though. Especially once he’d made a comment under his breath about the statue of lovers wrapped up in each other’s arms to be a spitting image of you and Namjoon.

“A wardrobe? Really?” Jimin shakes his head, tsking your behavior.

“Oh, shut up,” you hiss.

Wow. Jimin really is the Dmitri to your Anastasia. It would appear like he’s completely embodied the role he has throughout the first half of the movie, in which he’s endlessly annoying.

“Alright, alright. I’ll drop it.” He hold up a hand in innocence. “Should we get some skewers before the next thing?”

“I’d like to skewer you-”

“What was that, jagiya?” Jimin asks with a smirk.

“Oh, I just said that that sounds delicious.”

“Mhmm.”

Together you locate some delicious street-food, entering some sort of food heaven when the first bite touches your lips. “This is amazing,” you say around the food.

Jimin groans, closing his eyes as he eats up. “Here, try this.” He extends the skewer to you, leaning into your side as you sit together on the bench. Cupping your chin, he feeds you the next slice of meat, watching your reaction carefully.

You hum as the flavor makes your tastebuds dance, eyes growing wide as Jimin swipes a thumb over your bottom lip, gathering up the excess sheen from the juicy meat. You watch, completely enraptured as he pops the digit in his mouth without a second thought, taking another bite of the food as though nothing happened.

All you know is that you wouldn’t mind that happening again.

“S-so what’s on the agenda for the rest of the day?” You ask, voice a little higher than usual as you attempt to calm your beating heart.

“Mm, lemme check,” Jimin mumbles, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “Oh! How is today going by so fast?”

“What?”

“We’ve got just enough time to pick out a souveneir before the show starts.” Rising from the bench, he takes another bite of his food. “Shall well?” You take his hand, allowing him to pull you up.

“What show?”

He looks you over. “You’ve heard of the Russian Ballet, right?”

You’re severely underdressed for a night out at the ballet, but Jimin reassures you that no one will notice. Together, the two of you roam about the Meriinsky theater’s souvenir shop.

“Oooh, Jimin, look!” You hold up a shirt with a burly man in a tutu. “You should totally get this.”

Jimin turns to face you, dissolving into a fit of laughter that has him falling to his knees. “No way, that’s horrible!”

You shrug, looking back and forth from the shirt and back to him. “I don’t know, I think it’d look kinda hot.”

Smile wiped from his face, Jimin snatches the shirt from you. “I’m getting it. Don’t try to stop me.”

You end up finding a similar shirt – this one has a ballerina balancing huge logs on her shoulders – to get with Jimin. Just as you head up to the cashier, you see Jimin sliding a small box across the table for the cashier to ring up.

“What’s that?” You ask, placing your shirt on top of his in the bag he holds open. Jimin shrugs.

“Just something.”

You frown. “That was vague.”

Tapping your nose, Jimin grins and nods at the cashier before taking the box and placing it inside the bag before you can get a good look at it. “So observant.”

The ballet begins their show at 6 o’clock. You sit near the front, in a spot that appears to be fairly inconspicuous. Jimin sits with the bag of your souvenirs placed under his chair, out of sight from your prying eyes.

You can’t help but feel like royalty as you look around the historic theater. It’s filled to the brim with natives and foreigners alike, most of which are dressed to the nines. The golden, old lighting casts shadows on everyone, thick fabric draping itself around the box seats.

Suddenly you remember what Jimin said to you so early this morning. I miss you even when you’re right in front of me.

It makes sense, now. There’s ache in your chest as you look around the theater, trying to memorize every last detail, knowing that this may very well be the last time you ever see it in such grandeur. The thought nearly rips your heart out of your chest. Knowing that this feeling is only temporary. You’re only royal for a day.

You turn to mention it to Jimin, only to find him looking at you in the same way you’ve looked at the theater.

Like you’re as timeless as the music that drifts up from the orchestra, and he’s just found out that he’s on a mortal timeline.

You will remain like this forever in his memory. Eyes bright and your right knee nervously bouncing up at down, only to be soothed by the sound of a lone violin that stands out amongst the other flurry of instruments.

He smiles, the action so at odds with the heavy look in his eyes. Reaching out, you take his hand from his lap, and without a single thought other than the way the golden lights are dimming and so is the look of pain in Jimin’s eyes, you press your lips to the tip of his knuckles. Once.

Twice.

And one more time, making it to his pinky knuckle and smiling against it before planting a kiss that feels more like a breath against it.

It’s nearly pitch black now, the curtains pulled open to reveal the breathtaking ballerina, but you find that you can’t quite look away. Not as Jimin continues to look at you with that indescribable expression that has somehow shifted into something more. He brings his hand back to his lap, enveloping your hand in both of his.

“It’s starting,” he breathes out.

You know that he means the production is beginning. Indeed, in your peripheral you see the ballerina who doubles as Sleeping Beauty tonight takes to the stage amidst the sound of awed clapping. But you can’t help but find a different meaning in those two words.

It’s starting to get harder.

Because anytime you close your eyes, you see Namjoon before you in the wardrobe, tentative hope in his eyes.

Because your wrist burns with Hobi’s bracelet linked around it, a constant reminder of the ghost of his lips on your palm.

Because you wake up in the middle of the night every night, looking to your doorway in hopes of finding Taehyung leaning against it with a smirk that does nothing to fool you.

And now there’s Jimin, filling your mind with his confession this morning. I miss you.

You’ve unknowingly boarded a runaway train.

Who cut the brakes on this thing?

The ballet is beautiful.

Like, beautiful in the way that you don’t want it to ever end. The music coming from the pit weaves the story, the ballerinas working in tandem with every note to bring it to life.

Once you enter into the final act, you find yourself squeezes Jimin’s hand as though watching a horror movie. He traces soothing patterns against your skin even as he quietly laughs.

“How’re you holding up over there?” He drawls in your ear.

“I don’t want it to end,” you reply, nibbling on your bottom lip.

Like all good things, it does. Jimin allows you to linger for a while longer, even after most of the people of exited the building. You remain in your seat, staring up at the stage now covered by thick curtains, almost as though waiting for the production to start up again.

Finally, you notice the ache in your legs from sitting in a confined space for so long, and get up.

“How was it?” Jimin asks, leading you out of the marvelous theater.

You blink. “How was it? I…I think my soul left my body for a minute back there.”

You walk out to find that night has fallen, Jimin laughing up at the stars. “Wow. That’s a pretty intense experience.”

“Yeah, well.”

Skipping ahead of you, Jimin turns around to face you with a silly grin. “We’ll come back someday,” he promises. “Maybe we’ll go to Moscow. They perform ‘Black Swan’ there.”

You blink. “And they don’t in St. Petersburg?”

Jimin shrugs, reaching out for your hands, which you extend to him. He continues walking backward, unwilling to let go of either hand. “They haven’t, yet.”

“Why not?”

“It has something to do with the political climate here versus in Moscow.”

“Huh.” You take a moment to take in the view before you, Jimin looking like he belongs here among the stars and streetlamps. “You seem to know a lot about the Russian Ballet.”

Again, he shrugs, this time accompanied by a crooked smile. “I read about it on the flight over.” He pauses, waiting for you to catch up to him before walking side by side. “Which, speaking of flights…”

“Don’t we have one to catch?”

“Exactly.”

It’s painful, leaving St. Petersburg behind. You watch through the window of the airplane as you take off, the lights winking at you in a silent goodbye.

Jimin watches from the opposite side of the plane, an absent-minded smile yet again on his face. He quietly orders a bit of food for the two of you, knowing that you’ll be hungry soon.

Once St. Petersburg vanishes from your view, you glance over at Jimin who fiddles with the safety pamphlet.

“That was amazing.”

He furrows his brows, not looking up yet. “What? The plane taking off?”

“No, you know what I mean.” He continues to look at you, feigning ignorance. “All of it. That…date. That was seriously a dream.”

Jimin openly stares at you for a moment as though not expecting such a reaction before averting his eyes. You watch with amusement as his cheeks flood with pink, a silent testament to how flustered you can make him.

“Yeah,” he coughs awkwardly. “I guess you could say…it was nice.” He looks at you expectantly.

You frown, not quite understanding what he means until – “Jimin!”

He sinks low in his seat, body shaking with laughter. “First thing I do when we get back is tell Namjoon you said that about your kiss. I’m not even kidding,” he says as he wipes fake tears from his eyes.

“Just- yah!” Absolutely embarrassed, you turn to stare out the window again, ignoring the laughing boy.

Your mind is dazed once you return to Seoul, clambering inside a car that Jimin is somehow able to drive despite being clearly exhausted from the long flight. You share a comfortable silence as you replay that events of the past 24 hours in your mind.

The sound of the orchestra is still ringing in your ears by the time Jimin pulls up in front of your apartment. You’re about to tell him that he doesn’t need to get out of the car when he’s hurry around to open your door.

“You look exhausted,” you remark sleepily.

He doesn’t have the energy to pretend to be offended. “So do you.”

Indeed you do, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the car window before setting off toward your door. The few steps up to your apartment appear to be the same as Mount Everest, Jimin’s hand on the small of your back proving to be the only thing keeping you moving forward.

You watched four movies on the flight back. Jimin had urged you to try to at least nap, but you couldn’t. You were too wired, mind running nonstop with different ideas and memories. And now you’re paying the price as you stumble up the stairs.

Once Jimin has ascertained that you’re not about to fall over, he takes his hand off your back. “Made it,” he mumbles out.

“Mmm.”

He chuckles softly, reaching out to pull you in for a soft hug. It’s warm in his arms, making you close your eyes and rest against his shoulder. You could stay here for hours-

“Don’t go falling asleep on me,” Jimin quietly warns, looking at you fondly as he pulls away. He notes your still-closed eyes and leans in to peck your cheek.

He grins when he pulls away, seeing that your eyes are now wide open. You’re a little flushed from the unexpected peck, but it’s still dark enough in the early morning light that you hope he doesn’t notice.

“Here, your souvenir,” he hands you the bag from the Meriinsky theater, which you take. “Go in and sleep.”

Once you manage to get the door unlocked, you’re slipping inside and waving goodbye as Jimin hurries back down to his car. Just before he gets in, you call out to him.

“Jimin-ah!”

He holds the drivers-side door open. “What?”

Giving him another little wave, you shout, “Thank you!”

“Anytime.”

With that, he hops in and drives away.

You don’t remember walking to your bedroom, but you’re grateful that you’ve found your bed. Still holding the bag, it swings down to hit your legs.

“Ow!” Something solid hits your shin from inside the bag, leading you to investigate its contents.

Hiding beneath your shirt you got, sits the small box you’d spied Jimin buying. On top of it sits a crinkled post-it note, one he must have found while you were immersed in your movies on the flight.

To my Anastasia – hopefully this will be enough to say ‘thank you’.

Brows furrowed in curiosity, you slide the box open and pull out a small object wrapped in bubble wrap. Carefully unwrapping it, your mouth falls open in a silent gasp when you uncover your little present.

It’s a music box.

Opening it, you ignore the little tears springing to your eyes as it reveals a ballerina, spinning in perfect circles to the music that dives out.

Setting it on your nightstand, you close your eyes and let the music ease you into your dreams. You’re left with a distinct feeling that lingers even when you wake up hours later.

You still feel like royalty.

main masterlist

please let me know what your thoughts are! You don’t necessarily have to be rooting for one of the boys specifically, but let me know who you think has the best shot/who you really swooned over! ;)

taglist is open, click on the link at the top of the post or let me know if you’d like to join!

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carriagelamp · 4 years ago

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I read more books this month than I anticipated. I should probably wait before doing a February book round up, but I already feel like I’m struggling to decide which ones to cut from my list so I’m doing it this weekend instead of next. If I read much next week I’ll bump ‘em up into March’s round up

Asterix and the Missing Scroll / Chieftain’s Daughter

I got the last two “new” Asterix books out of the library so I could officially say I had read them all. Over all my opinion is… they’re fine! None of these would ever become one of my favourites, but they’re all fine stories. The art is good, it is completely in-line with the original, and the stories are… fine. I liked The Missing Scroll quite a bit more than The Chieftain’s Daughter but I never find a ~hurr hurr teenagers~ plotline that interesting, whereas I do enjoy seeing Romans get chased down by unicorns so that’s probably not surprising. There’s some spark I can’t put my finger on that the new Asterix books just seem to be missing though… a bit of humour or cleverness or something. Still, they’re fine reads if you’ve been hungry for more Asterix and I’m glad I read them. (Though the library gave me the American translation of The Chieftain’s Daughter, something I didn’t realize until I started reading and realized that this is wrong??? I’ve been reading these books since I could read and I know this is wrong??? What the hell is happening??? The I realized the publisher was different and I simmered in fury the whole time I read it — WHY ARE YOU CHANGING NAMES AND WORD CHOICES IN A WELL ESTABLISHED SERIES THAT ALREADY HAS AN ENGLISH TRANSLATION YOU ANIMALS WHY ARE YOU DUMBING DOWN THE LANGUAGE AAAUGH

The Bride Was A Boy

This one was cute! The Bride Was A Boy is an autobiographical manga written by a transwoman recounting her experience with transitioning, meeting her boyfriend, and eventually getting married. It’s mostly done in a 4-panel style and is interspersed with lots of information about the LGBT community, particularly in Japan. A lot of it was stuff I was already familiar with, but I still found it adorable and a very worthwhile read. it would be a fantastic book for young queer people who are looking for more of an introduction into international queer space

Cul de Sac: Children At Play

Cul de Sac is just a weird, fun newspaper comic series about the children who live in a small neighbourhood. It fully taps into the children-as-semi-feral-chaos-agents, and there’s something hilariously nostalgic about the whole thing. Lots of times when stories try to portray children there’s always something… wrong about it, something that doesn’t mesh with true childhood, but in this comic I can see glimpses of my grimy, dirty-covered self as a preschooler running around the pages. I would definitely recommend trying them!

The Cremation of Sam McGee

I reread The Cremation of Sam McGee and The Shooting of Dan McGrew and man, they don’t stop being buckwild. These are two really famous Canadian poems that were then illustrated by equally famous Canadian artist Ted Harrison. Harrison’s style is gorgeous and distinct and given what strangely grisly stories these poems are they fit the mood perfectly. Everything feels just a little tilted and wrong and unsettling. If you enjoy an occasional poem (especially ones that are super fun to read out loud) and haven’t read these before, I would recommend them! Or do what my teachers did, and read Sam Gee to a young child in your life and watch them be baffled and concerned and horrified.

There are strange things done / in the midnight sun / by the men who moil for gold...

The Gryphon’s Lair

The second book of the Royal Guide to Monster Slaying series written by Kelley Armstrong; I’ve been eagerly awaiting this book! It’s a very cool fantasy series because it really leans into environmental stewardship and the importance of studying animals and conservation so you can find ways to live alongside a healthy ecosystem. In this book Rowan is officially accepted as the Royal Monster Hunter, which means a whole new set of trials and burdens. She has to contend with a baby gryphon that is becoming increasingly large and dangerous, plotting family members, doubt about her abilities, a potential curse, and a daunting quest deep into the mountains in order to set things right. If you’re looking for some very gentle high fantasy, this series delivers.

Hogan’s Heroes comics

What to say here. Anyone following this blog has suffered the knowledge that I’ve been rewatching Hogan’s Heroes lately. When I found out that there was a short-lived, shitty comic series in the 60s? Of course I had to hunt them down. And so I’ve read them! And they sure were a shitty comic series from the 60s! They were, shall we say, of wildly varying quality. Some were actually really funny (like #5, it easily had the best art and best jokes imho), others were a slog, and most were fine and amusing enough to read the whole way through but not much more.

If you don’t know what Hogan’s Heroes is about: it was a 1960s sitcom that took place in a WWII POW camp, in which the Allied prisoners trapped there had a massive, complex sabotage/spy ring right underneath the camp. The whole show is about constantly outwitting the bumbling Germans while keeping up the pretense that they’re all just normal prisoners. The show is hilariously funny and I would recommend that, even if I can’t say the same for the comics unless you’re like me and are just really thirsty for more content...

Magic Misfits: The Fourth Suit (Ripley)

The final book of Neil Patrick Harris’ middle grade series, The Magic Misfits. In this fourth book, the group is fragmented and forced to meet in secret to avoid notice from the mysterious and powerful Kalagan whose cruel machinations have already turned the quiet little town on its ears, putting people’s lives in peril and destroy Leila’s fathers’ magic shop. The Misfits are going to need all their skills to finally unmask this sinister magician and break the mesmerism he seems to have placed over the entire town before it’s too late to save no only the town, but their friendship and trust.

Super charming series, and the illustrations are gorgeous.

Marsupilami

HOUBA! I watched a very bad TV adaptation of this as a kid that still managed to find a place in my heart, and so I decided to finally try reading some of the original comic! On one hand: it was exactly what I had hoped! The art is cute, the marsupilami is so dynamic and fun to see on the page (and has a way better characterization than he does in the show), and it’s really funny! Unfortunately! It is also pretty racist! Yikes! That seems to be a reoccuring downfall for some of these older Belgian comics... I also tried reading the first book of Les Tuniques Bleues and aye ye ye… I couldn’t actually get through that one. That being said, these were older volumes and frankly, North American media was also real fucking racist at that point so I’m not gonna write them off either. I really liked most of this book, and will probably try to get my hands on one of the more recent volumes of both Marsupilami and Les Tuniques Bleues to see if they get better with time. (If you’ve read either of those series and have volume recommendations hmu)

The Pagemaster

I’m a sucker for novelizations, I have no excuse beyond that. I recently rewatched The Pagemaster and decided to read the chapter book. And it was a solid little adaptation! It’s about Richard Tyler, a young boy with a head for statistics which unfortunately means he lives in constant fear of (in his opinion, statistically likely) injury or death. However that fear is put to the test when he gets caught in a horrible thunderstorm and has to shelter in a nearby library with halls and shelves that stretch beyond the imagination and with untold perils hidden among the pages of the books. Richard, with only his library card and three novels that hope to be checked out, has to venture through the different genres and horrors housed int he library if he ever wants to find the exit and get home to safety.

Pumpkinheads

A very charming little graphic novel. Cute art, and really loveable characters. Josiah and Deja work every year at a local pumpkin patch, and are best friends during those weeks. However this is their last year working there before going off to university and as the last day at the patch comes to a close they realize that they both still have regrets. Deja sets off on a mission to avoid work, eat all the interesting snacks around the patch, and get Josiah to find the girl he’s been crushing on every year and has never worked up the nerve to talk to.

After being deprived of human contact for almost a year, this book really hits you right in the heart.

The Screwfly Solution

A deeply upsetting scifi/horror short story! I read it on the recommendation of a friend and, yes, can confirm that this fucked me up a bit. I honestly don’t even know what to say about this that wouldn’t spoil it, but frankly with everything being as it is, this hit a little bit too close to reality. (That being said, it was very well written, like this is a very good story on a literary level and it does exactly what it sets out to accomplish.) If you feel like reading twenty pages and being really disturbed, give it a go! Otherwise go and read any number of the much happier books on this list!

The Whipping Boy

This was a book I remember reading as a lit circle book back in elementary school and really loving. After telling myself I’d reread it for years, I finally sat down with it again. If you somehow got through school without reading this one, it’s about a brat of a prince and his whipping boy — since it would be unspeakable to strike a prince, when the prince misbehaves it is Jemmy who gets whipped. Unsurprisingly, there is no love lost between the two of them, because the prince is always intentionally causing problems that Jemmy has to suffer for. Things begin to change though when the prince decides to run away and drags Jemmy along with him. On the run, being chased by highwaymen, and desperately trying to hide their identities, these boys go on a fast-paced adventure beyond the castle walls. It wasn’t as special as I remembered it being as a kid, but it’s a fine little chapter book.

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cricketnationrise · 4 years ago

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Books I read in quarantine: Part 1

So on Friday, March 13, 2020 something not that chill happened. We all know what that was. Anyway for me the silver lining was that I got a lot of my TBR knocked out by not being at work. I read over 150 books from mid-march to mid-october.

1. We Should All Be Feminists by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie: yes, it had been on my list for a while, yes it was awesome, yes, its still worth the read

2. Dragonquest by Anne McCaffrey: eh. listen. she’s one of the most prominent women in fantasy/sci-fi writing and that’s great. and maybe some the later books aren’t quite such a product of their time. but there are some aspects to the dragon “bonding” that feel especially uncomfortable and there’s a lot of violence toward women. so.

3. Briar’s Book by Tamora Pierce: I was in the midst of a Circle of Magic reread. Unfortunately for me, this one is about a plague. It’s still one of the best CoM books and I enjoy it immensely. Its definitely going to be harder to read from now on

4. The Tiger’s Daughter by K. Arsenault Rivera: loved this. empress and ruler of the steppes as lesbians that also battle demons? i needed a family tree, but that’s normal for me. still need to get to the next one in this series.

5. Fablehaven by Brandon Mull: middle grade fantasy novel. i hesitate to say lighthearted because there are definitely some heavy themes, but all the fantasy creatures you encounter are cool AF and this one at least doesn’t end on a cliffhanger.

6. Magic Steps by Tamora Pierce: less strong than some of the others in the Emelan series, but has some cool worldbuilding that got better fleshed out in the Beka Cooper Tortall books. featuring UNMAGIC. v dark. also dance magic. and romance between two older characters

7. The Bookshop on the Corner by Jenny Colgan: delightful romance, not super explicit, very wish fulfillment if your wish is to run away from your life in london and live off the proceeds of a mobile bookstore in a tiny town. which. is not unappealing.

8. Street Magic by Tamora Pierce: features 9 cats, street urchins, and a VERY TERRIFYING wealthy widow straight up murdering kids for fun and games, stone magic

9. Scythe by Neal Shusterman: okay so take our world and then solve all physical ailments and have everything run by the cloud. except that death is still a thing but only if you are picked by a Scythe. first book in a trilogy. fast paced, amazing, violent (someone gets their head cut off), standard dystopia stuff. you’ll want to have the next two books ON YOUR SHELF

10. Wink Poppy Midnight by April Genevieve Tucholke: there is definitely someone out there who will like this more than me. one of them is my roommate. it was just too dark of a friendship/enemyship for me. lots of unreliable narrators. and like, they were just kind of horrible to each other? the actual plot was kinda cool and i definitely would have liked it more if it ended lighter

11. The Word for World is Forest by Ursula K. LeGuin: a giant of fantasy and science fiction. this was my first of her sci-fi stuff and the first of the hainish cycle that i’ve read. quick read. definitely makes you think.

12. The Haunting of Tram Car 015 by P. Djèlí Clark: number two in a series, but i didn’t know that going in. absolutely going to read the others. a cairo where all sorts of spirits and demons exist and actively interact with the “normal” world.

13. The Girl Who Reads on the Métro by Christine Féret-Fleury: i’ve never been to france but this feels VERY french. magical realism about bringing the right book to the perfect reader. super cute.

14. Fire Starter by P. Anastasia: first of a series. i wanted to like this better based on the magic system. romance felt forced. also it turned out to be aliens. which like, not a problem, but don’t spend 100 pages telling me its magic and then boom alien virus. maybe the others are better, but i’m not going to find out.

15. The House on Mango Street by Sandra Cisneros: i had to read this in middle school and definitely didn’t appreciate it enough. highly recommended.

16. A Witch’s Guide to Escape: A Practical Compendium of Portal Fantasies by Alix E. Harrow: a fantastic short story about reading, libraries, magic and supporting teenagers who need it. you can read it online or as part of Apex Magazine Issue 105 from Feb 2018.

17. On a Sunbeam by Tillie Walden: really long graphic novel about a found family in space trying to do a good job repairing various buildings and stuff. enough queer content for anybody really. gorgeous art.

18. Doughnut by Tom Holt: book 1 in the YouSpace series. very discworld-esq except that its our own world plus a pocket dimension that’s only accessible with a lot of math and a prayer. hilarious at times, but a decidedly darker tone than discworld so just be aware if that’s not what youre looking for

19. The Girl Who Could Move Sh*t with Her Mind by Jackson Ford: teenage girl in california has powers that let her move things with her mind. works as part of a government program with a whole band of misfits. she thought she was the only one and then someone else starts doing crime (TM) and murder with telekinesis and she has to stop them. found family toward the end. graphic violence toward the end. wildfires.

20. Ballad of the Whiskey Robber: A True Story of Bank Heists, Ice Hockey, Transylvanian Pelt Smuggling, Moonlighting Detectives, and Broken Hearts by Julian Rubinstein: what it says on the tin, basically. NONFICTION. this dude in europe had way too many day jobs that were actually crime and his story is WILD. last update i saw was that he was still alive, paroled from jail, and making pottery??

21. The Priory of the Orange Tree by Samantha Shannon: 800+ pages of epic eastern fantasy. some dragons. a witchy big bad. betrayal. queer romance as a main plotline. magic. seriously good.

22. Transcription by Kate Atkinson: flashback within a flashback within a flashback and reversing that path as you move through the book. woman just wants a secretary job during the war. somehow ends up as a spy??? i liked it, i keep meaning to get more of her books

23. Every Heart a Doorway by Seanan McGuire: first in the wayward children series. under 200 pages if you’re looking for a quick read. what happens to kids that have gone through a door, had an adventure, and then forced back into our world? they don’t quite fit. and when that happens they go to Eleanor West’s School. fantastic series that is still being added to (number 7 comes out next year). can be very dark/sinister at times. but theres a lot of queer representation and found family stuff to balance out.

24. Down Among the Sticks and Bones by Seanan McGuire: book 2 in the wayward children series. focuses on Jack and Jill’s backstory of their time before book 1. they are from The Moors where a Vampire Lord and a Mad Scientist are battling against each other to keep the balance of the world with a village of innocents between them

25. Go Fish by Ian Rogers: short story published on Tor.com about a group of paranormal investigators. there’s a fish factory that no one will go in because it’s haunted and/or cursed and people have been dying from going in there

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sayonaramidnight · 3 years ago

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In which I’m so not a fanfic writer after all

Asking myself these questions in one go, because the answers are short, welp.

1. How do you approach worldbuilding (if it’s an AU) or research (if it’s an established canon)?

Worldbuilding? In fanfiction? There are people skilled in this field I admire greatly, but in my case it mostly means adding a bunch of OCs and then thinking: hey, why am I even doing this, I might as well go back to writing my original stories... Because every time I attempt to be creative in someone else’s universe, I feel like an impostor and I can’t help it.

(On the other hand, I love worldbuilding in my own stories, but I still have a lot to learn about it, because it’s never enough (or so I was told by some readers).

2. What do you do to understand the characters better and get into their head space?

I talk about them with my friends (if we share the fandom) or read meta-texts from intelligent people. If the character happens to be my favourite, I make a lot of screenshots and reread their lines. orz

3. How long do you usually spend writing a chapter? (considering only the actual hours you spend writing/typing!)

I spend a lot of time staring at my writing and getting a headache and probably very little time actually writing.

4. How does your writing happen? Do you visualize scenes playing out in your head, or do they come out in words as you type?

Kiiiiiiiiiind of both. Characters’ dialogues and thoughts come to me as words, while action scenes and descriptions come visualised - and then I have a big problem finding the right words for them.

5. How long do you spend editing each complete chapter/story?

I usually close it and post it/send it to friends as soon as I finish, before I start hating it. Only later do I find some silly mistakes and edit them frantically.

6. When you write emotional scenes, do you feel what the characters are feeling?

I usually do.

7. To you, what is the most important part of writing a romantic relationship?

Um... making it seem believable. Which is a big (and tricky) dead for one such as I, who doesn’t do romantic relationship IRL and mostly knows how they work from stories.

8. What are three things you’re proudest of when it comes to your writing? Dialogue, descriptions, humour, romantic fluff, kisses, action, pacing, worldbuilding, setting, anything! Even small things like sentence structures and the way your characters banter counts

In terms of fanfiction... I mostly write it in English, which is my second language and makes me feel very limited, compared to native speakers. But I try to break these limits or at least bypass them somehow and I often fail, but I’m proud of myself trying nonetheless. And I’m still trying to find my own style, because writing in a second language feels very different than in the first language, at least to me.

9. What are three weaknesses in your writing that you’re very aware of, that you’d like to spend time working on to improve your works?

Eh? Everything.

10. If you were to visit your past self now and give them a piece of writing advice, what would that advice be

Don’t you bloody dare posting this stuff in any public spaces. Sure, send it to friends, when they’re genuinely interested, but don’t post it. It will only hurt you.

#yeah so I've just proven to myself some things are not for me #congrats self

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longsightmyth · 4 years ago

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Aaaaaaaaaand here’s what I’ve got so far for the current readthrough of ToD for fragments etc. Sharp eyes will note that it has taken me over a year and I still haven’t finished the reread. It’s just very bad, okay? Cut for dash mercy.

June 21, 2018 – page 4

0.61% "Apparently the problem with Adarlan conquering everything was not the conquering, but the fact that they had an evil dictator in charge.

I mean, in fairness, the evil dictator probably didn't HELP, but in the kind of person who considers conquering a symptom of BEING an evil dictator, so?"

June 21, 2018 – page 15

2.27% ""That Sartaq was here... they had to have known, then. Well in advance. That she and Chaol were coming."

That reads like I hit the space bar on my iPhone a couple too many times but I swear to you that is exactly how it's written in the book. I have changed NOTHING."

June 21, 2018 – page 16

2.42% "I'm also still confused about why the captain of the royal guard was sent as an ambassador instead of staying to administer the royal guard."

June 27, 2018 – page 19

2.88% "There are so many fragments, y'all. So many."

June 27, 2018 – page 27

4.09% "For once the angst feels earned here (we know that Nesryn cares and works for the wellbeing of Rifthold and her family and we've seen it). Do I wish there were fewer Drama Fragments? Yes. Still, I'm glad we got this bit from Nesryn's PoV and for once it wasn't All About Celaena OR A Boy."

June 28, 2018 – page 30

4.55% ""My Tumelun. The words told enough about the prince's closeness with his sister."

First of all, OBVIOUSLY. Second, there really is a way to say this as if Chaol is thinking it and not as if you are explaining to the reader. For instance:

"My Tumelun. They had been close, then."

BOOM."

June 28, 2018 – page 30

4.55% "I've harped on this before, and while it's permissible for Kashin in his grief and/or naïveté to have blind spots ("no one within our lands would be stupid enough [to murder Tumelun]") Chaol has no such excuse and neither does the narrative."

June 28, 2018 – page 31

4.7% ""...Aelin had hard lines that she did not cross. Killing or harming children was one of them."

Let me refer you to that time in Heir of Fire where she threatened to burn an entire city's population alive and we were from her PoV so we know she meant it and she SAID IT WITH A SMILE."

June 28, 2018 – page 31

4.7% "Also that time she threatened to burn up the population of Rifthold."

June 28, 2018 – page 31

4.7% "Oh yeah also that manor house she said she'd kill the entire population of if even a tiny word got out about her presence or previous presence there. That place had kids too. I'm pretty sure we saw and/or heard them playing in the yard."

June 28, 2018 – page 31

4.7% "Just because she hasn't threatened or hurt a SPECIFIC CHILD for SPECIFIC REASONS does not mean that she doesn't harm or (in fairness threaten to) murder children. That's just three examples off the top of my head."

June 28, 2018 – page 33

5.0% ""Had not even considered that the shadow of Morath might have already stretched this far."

Chaol, per Queen of Shadows the Valg, whose stated intentions are to destroy the world and rule the ruins, have been out and plotting since BEFORE YOU WERE BORN. You're an idiot if you didn't consider them using over twenty years of time to, oh, WORK TOWARDS DESTROYING THE WHOLE WORLD AND RULING THE RUINS."

June 28, 2018 – page 33

5.0% "Then again the series never considered that before this point either so maybe I should cut Chaol some slack?"

June 28, 2018 – page 35

5.3% "This reads like a dude wrote it, and not a dude who thinks women are actual people."

July 9, 2018 – page 37

5.61% ""Until an unknown healer's daughter from Fenharrow [who had only been training for two years] was approached by healers old and young, who had trained their entire lives, for her advice and assistance."

Look."

July 9, 2018 – page 37

5.61% "If this was portrayed as 'they needed somebody with a hella lot of magic and guided her through things' that would be one thing, but are you telling me this chick is in her second year at the magical equivalent of medical school and all of the surgeons are coming to her for surgery advice?"

July 9, 2018 – page 37

5.61% "I think I commented on this last time but still:

"There were two such vials on the desk now, clear orbs atop silver feet fashioned after ibis legs. Being purified by the endless sunshine within the tower."

You'd think I made a mistake typing with my phone, right? Hit the space bar twice maybe and added an accidental period?

I did not. That's a direct quote from the book."

July 9, 2018 – page 44

6.67% "Are Renia and Hassar married or not, please make up your mind, book. Here Renia is referred to as Hassar's lover but I think later on it says wife without any marriage happening in between so like."

July 24, 2018 – page 53

8.03% ""Chaol had barely slept.

Partially due to the unrelenting heat, partially due to the fact that they were in a tentative ally's fraught household, full of potential spies and unknown dangers- perhaps even from Morath itself - and partially due to what had befallen Rifthold and all he held dear.

And partially due to the meeting that he was now minutes away from having.""

July 24, 2018 – page 53

8.03% "This is what happens when you rush books, don't listen to your editor, and use second drafts at best."

July 24, 2018 – page 53

8.03% ""Chaol barely slept that night. It could have been the unrelenting heat, it could have been the spies and unknown dangers of the house - or of Morath. It could have been the news of Rifthold, and the lack of news that followed. It could have been all of it.

Part of it was definitely the anxiety over the meeting that had yet to begin."

**jazz hands**"

July 24, 2018 – page 54

8.18% ""They'd asked him about the butchering of the slaves in Calaculla and Endovier at dinner.

Or the oily one, Arghun, did. Had the prince been among Chaol's new recruits to the royal guard, he would have easily gotten him to fall in line thanks to a few well-timed shows of skill and sheer dominance. But here, he had no authority to bring the conniving, haughty prince to heel.

Not even when Arghun wanted to know...""

July 24, 2018 – page 54

8.18% ""...why the former King of Adarlan had deemed it necessary to enslave his people. And then put them down like animals. Why the man had not looked to the southern continent for education on the horrors of the stain of slavery - and avoided instituting it.

Chaol had to offer curt answers on the verge of being impolite. Sartaq, the only one of them beyond Kashin whom Chaol was inclined to like, had finally tired..."

July 24, 2018 – page 54

8.18% ""...of his older brother's questioning and steered the conversation away."

Holy mackerel is there a lot to unpack there, but first of all: Arghun for president, y'all.

Second, king is improperly capitalized there. Have fun with that.

Third, why is Arghun the oily conniving one for being like 'yo why the hell did y'all keep slaves?'"

July 24, 2018 – page 54

8.18% "Fourth, it might be poor diplomacy on a technical level, but honestly Arghun and the SC contingent have all the power here. They don't have to worry about being polite, because what are Chaol and Nesryn going to do, leave? (they probably wish they would)"

July 24, 2018 – page 54

8.18% "Fifth, Chaol, suck it up. You participated in and helped to continue a regime that not only practiced slavery but encouraged it. I have no sympathy for your hurt feelings about being called on it. Aren't you supposed to be anti-slavery? Shouldn't you be going 'look man it sucked and was wrong. I know that. You know that. The new king has ended the practice even if he apparently hasn't considered reparations.'"

July 24, 2018 – page 54

8.18% "But no, Arghun is the one in the wrong here apparently?"

July 25, 2018 – page 57

8.64% "I'd forgotten Yrene's 'honey-colored' hands."

July 25, 2018 – page 66

10.0% "Still unsure why a medical professional won't just say the word penis."

July 25, 2018 – page 70

10.61% "Okay I got one mention of male healers existing. Apparently it's almost exclusively a female gift. Why? Who knows. Not the book.

Nothing mentioned about any cultural stuff surrounding it either."

July 25, 2018 – page 71

10.76% "I'm starting to wonder if the author just hasn't realized how self-aggrandizing things sound when written in third person limited or first person?"

August 26, 2018 – page 82

12.42%

August 27, 2018 – page 86

13.03% "Sure of course it's a weakness to care where the only other member of your diplomatic envoy is and if she's gone missing. Of course. It's obviously not just common sense or competence. Why are the 'politics' in these books such nonsense."

August 27, 2018 – page 87

13.18% "Other people have commented on this, but if everyone here is human why does the book keep calling everyone males and females."

August 27, 2018 – page 88

13.33% ""See how he trips over himself," Arghun muttered over Duva, her husband, and Chaol to say to Sartaq.

That makes it look like Arghun is a married woman talking over her husband, when I know that Arghun is an unmarried man. You have to specify in this case. Or you could, you know. Name your characters."

August 27, 2018 – page 89

13.48% ""Kashin shut his mouth, ever the trained soldier.

And somehow Chaol knew-that fast-that Kashin was not being considered for the throne."

First of all, SOMEHOW? You detail why in the next sentence."

August 27, 2018 – page 89

13.48% ""...he seemed decent, though. A better alternative than the sneering, aloof Arghun, or the wolflike Hasar."

Interesting how being wolflike is positive when it's men but negative when it's women.

Also, Arghun for president. He's the spymaster dude who talks to the viziers. Obviously my vote goes to Arghun."

August 27, 2018 – page 91

13.79% "I hate how Chaol lecturing Nesryn about coming in late morphs into him patronizing her about how they're fighting to make Adarlan safer for her specifically.

Listen, dickface. She's the one who apparently had ROCKS thrown at her in Adarlan. Let her enjoy walking around safely.

Also I hate that he's lecturing her about coming in late."

August 27, 2018 – page 97

14.7% "So. I appreciate that Yrene tries in this one instance to be considerate of Chaol's wants/needs, re: his disability. I appreciate MUCH LESS that it is here specifically in an attempt to contrast Yrene and Nesryn. I wouldn't even be super mad about that except that Yrene is only considerate of Chaol and his wants/needs, re: his disability when Nesryn is around to be contrasted against."

August 27, 2018 – page 97

14.7% "It only counts as a character trait if it's consistent, and it isn't. Instead it's used as a way to shame Nesryn, when Yrene does the same and worse to Chaol multiple times but is excused because 'she means well.'"

August 27, 2018 – page 99

15.0% "This is SO STUPID she is a healer DOING HER JOB why does it MATTER if she goes into his bedroom?"

August 27, 2018 – page 103

��15.61% "This is a tiny thing in the grand scheme but "pure as sea-foam" made me laugh because I live in Florida and there is a lot of sea-foam. Almost none of it is 'pure'."

August 27, 2018 – page 109

16.52% "I don't care how many times it shows up. I am going to mark The Hand of the King/ The Hand of Adarlan with a red tab labeled ASoIaF EVERY TIME."

September 27, 2018 – page 113

17.12% ""You must enter where you fear to tread."

Uh-huh."

September 27, 2018 – page 115

17.42% "So while I like the idea of this scene with Yrene and the other healer, the fact remains that it has taken more than 100 pages to show us something that is ostensibly a fundamental part of Yrene's character, and from what I remember we have precious few other scenes of it later."

September 27, 2018 – page 115

17.42% "The trait? That Yrene has a drive to help people."

September 27, 2018 – page 117

17.73% ""How many meals had he himself been positioned by the doors, or out in the courtyard, monitoring his king? How many times had he laid into his men for slouching, for chattering amongst themselves, and reassigned them to lesser watches?""

September 27, 2018 – page 117

17.73% "Okay first of all, as THE (singular, only) captain of the royal guard your place is the organizing, hiring, and inspecting of the Royal guard, not the actual guarding except for special occasions, at which point you would be with the king as the visible face of the king's protection."

September 27, 2018 – page 117

17.73% "SECOND. You have never 'laid into' guards for chatting or slouching. You have in fact completely forgiven them for ABANDONING THEIR POSTS WITHOUT NOTICE because somebody else said it was fine. Your response? "Okay just don't do it again.""

September 27, 2018 – page 117

17.73% "I repeat, they abandoned their posts because a general from a conquered land told them it was fine, leaving their king completely open to attack, and you told them 'okay just don't do it again'"

September 27, 2018 – page 117

17.73% "Am I harping on this? ABSOLUTELY. Chaol's inner turmoil loses all emotional punch because he and the narrative are LYING to us. Instead of pulling my heartstrings, it just makes me angry.

This is also why Maas is the queen of the retcon, by the way."

September 27, 2018 – page 117

17.73% ""No sign - none - of any wicked force, whether dispatched from Morath or elsewhere. No sign beyond those white banners to honor their fallen princess."

I had no idea the wicked forces had a fallen princess, single separate two-sentence paragraph.

Also, it should be 'the white banners'"

September 27, 2018 – page 117

17.73% ""There was no sign of wickedness, from Morath or elsewhere - no sign but the white banners that honored the fallen princess."

It's not HARD, book."

November 30, 2018 – page 121

18.33% ""A summer storm galloped in off the sea just before midnight."

This one might be petty and I freely admit it, but that's kind of a funky way to put that."

February 11, 2019 – page 121

18.33% "I'm back!

I'd forgotten how awful the em dashes were. Like, I remembered they were BAD, I'd just forgotten HOW bad."

February 11, 2019 – page 123

18.64% "Picturing Kat's face in the section with Yrene and the 10,000+ year old document being touched with bare hands is what keeps me going y'all"

February 11, 2019 – page 127

19.24% "For someone ostensibly skeptical, Yrene sure does take every illustration in the book literally instead of even considering the possibility of metaphors or, like. Science."

February 11, 2019 – page 129

19.55% "The irony of Yrene being better at situational awareness and planning what around her could be improvised weaponry than Celaena, who ostensibly taught her these things, is not lost on me.

It's lost on the book though."

February 11, 2019 – page 132

20.0% "Why does everyone in these books have a capitalized Heir"

February 11, 2019 – page 132

20.0% "Also, the Heir Librarian as a title sounds stupid (no that's literally the title, not even Heir to the Librarian or anything)"

February 11, 2019 – page 132

20.0% "All it would take was a week observing the library to know it never closes and Bob's your uncle the 'closing toll' of the library bell jig is up.

I'm just saying."

May 4, 2019 – page 144

21.82%

July 22, 2019 – page 145

21.97% ""Either your lack on consciousness during that initial healing kept you from feeling this sort of pain, or perhaps whatever this is had not... settled."

Or Sarah Janet needed More Drama."

July 22, 2019 – page 146

22.12% "I forgot that apparently the valg magic and therefore Chaol's injury persists because it's feeding on his self hate or whatever.

See kids, all you have to do is be happy and believe in yourself and your disability will go away."

July 22, 2019 – page 146

22.12% ""It was all he could do not to shrink from that frank gaze."

Why not her frank gaze? Like, it's not grammatically incorrect - the sentence before says she's staring at him, it's referring to a gaze mentioned before - but I don't think it's strong writing."

July 22, 2019 – page 146

22.12% "Have Yrene own her frank gaze or have Chaol associate it with her directly instead of disconnecting it. "It was all he could do not to flinch from her frank gaze."

YMMV I guess."

July 22, 2019 – page 147

22.27% ""Yrene's face was an unreadable mask that would have given Dorian a run for his money."

Maybe it's my own failing, but Dorian has never been described as expressionless or unreadable in my memory, or at least not enough to stick out."

July 22, 2019 – page 148

22.42% ""Since [Nesryn's] hair fell only to her shoulders, he had difficulty braiding it back"

French braids are a thing, even if I'd object to them being called French braids in these books."

July 22, 2019 – page 150

22.73% ""A land claimed by a conquering nation, yet loved and nurtured."

Not you too, Nesryn."

July 22, 2019 – page 154

23.33% ""There is beauty in my father's lands," the prince went on while Kadara ripped into that monstrous carcass, "but there is much lurking beneath the surface, too."

Sigh.

"There is beauty in my father's lands," the prince went on while Kadara feasted on the monster, "but much lurks beneath the surface, too.""

July 23, 2019 – page 161

24.39% "Love how Yrene explicitly says "add lots of honey" but is then judgy because Kadja added too much honey."

July 25, 2019 – page 162

24.55% "There's this thing we have where we consider the endurance of pain a virtue, somehow. Even if you agree with that, bad people can still have virtues.

Yrene starts rethinking Chaol's morality because he 'did not break' over the pain when her magic was trying to heal him.

Tldr: pain endurance is not the sole province of good people, and enduring pain doesn't make you good"

July 25, 2019 – page 164

24.85% "Why ARE the valg only trying to kill Yrene if she has the same healing gift as other healers?"

July 25, 2019 – page 164

24.85% "Okay also my disability is not Chaol's disability etc etc but the narrative is poo-pooing on Nesryn and Kadja for helping him into bed when he's so tired he can barley talk, because Yrene would have made him do it himself.

Like, honestly? That makes Yrene sound an awful lot like somebody who would go 'you're out of spoons? Do it anyway'"

July 25, 2019 – page 166

25.15% "Look y'all much as I dislike Yrene on a personal level she isn't WRONG for clearly having 'personal reservations' about Chaol's 'former role in the empire'.

He not only benefitted from but actively worked to keep the aforementioned empire in power. He got FRUSTRATED when the king wouldn't let him guard the king effectively. He wasn't even just some dude off in the hinterlands: HE WAS THE CAPTAIN OF THE ROYAL GUARD."

November 4, 2019 – page 176

26.67% "In all seriousness what is Sarah Janet Maas' beef with the word 'the'?"

November 4, 2019 – page 176

26.67% "WHITE

FUCKING

HORSES"

November 4, 2019 – page 178

26.97% "How does Yrene have a good seat and yet bounce everywhere and keep grabbing the saddle horn"

November 4, 2019 – page 184

27.88% "Oh yeah. This part."

November 4, 2019 – page 184

27.88% ""The skin was leathery - as warm as her smile."

The one time you use 'the' it's in a place that detaches the reader from a living breathing human's human-ness? HER skin, book. HER skin."

November 4, 2019 – page 186

28.18% "The page (well, this and the one before) that made me hate Yrene."

November 17, 2019 – page 187

28.33% ""She means well, my Yrene."

That doesn't matter when she literally asked a disabled man to help her with something and when he got there PROCEEDED TO LECTURE AN ENTIRE YARD ON HIS DISABILITY WITHOUT HIS PERMISSION, WHEN HE LITERALLY PHYSICALLY COULD NOT LEAVE.

And to the best of my recollection she never apologizes."

November 17, 2019 – page 187

28.33% ""Her instinct is to teach other people" How lovely maybe she could do that without LITERALLY HOLDING A DISABLED MAN THERE AGAINST HIS WILL.

"But Myth, she didn't mean to! She just wasn't thinking"

LITERALLY MY POINT"

November 17, 2019 – page 187

28.33% ""But Myth, the author didn't mean to make it like that" Maybe if she'd bothered ASKING a single disabled person instead of watching some youtube videos she might have LEARNED."

November 17, 2019 – page 190

28.79% "And look. I applaud people learning how to defend themselves and teaching others. HOWEVER. Chaol has only taught soldiers, and aside from that the idea that one or two sessions allows you to master several self-defense techniques is unlikely at best. It takes time, it takes repetition, and it takes someone who had more than one morning's instruction herself.

Just saying."

January 4, 2020 – Shelved as: assassin-rolls-do-it-better

May 30, 2020 – page 191

28.94% "It’s hard to tell with this author what distance we are in the narration. Feyre and Yrene both make snide little comments about people not caring or not doing something (in Yrene’s case, Chaol not smiling at her after her despicable behavior, in Feyre’s case Nesta not getting her a gift). I begin to suspect we aren’t supposed to see this as the character commenting on the event but the narration."

May 30, 2020 – page 191

28.94% "UNFORTUNATELY the books are written in close POV’s, Feyre’s in first and Yrene’s and Chaol’s in third. The result is that whatever the narration says is coming from the character.

This is a long way to say that Yrene continues to be terrible."

May 30, 2020 – page 193

29.24% "I don’t have enough orange tabs for this"

May 30, 2020 – page 194

29.39% "Yrene says here “[until that moment] she hadn’t felt like a barnyard animal” and I am not an expert but that seems like a Bad Thing to have about one of the only black women you haven’t killed off, Book."

May 30, 2020 – page 195

29.55% "“Did I do something to you today?”

*squints*"

May 30, 2020 – page 196

29.7% "I’m not going to pretend that Nesryn’s reaction here is perfect, but the book is trying to pretend it’s terrible and it’s not? She’s excited that Chaol can ride, she talks to Chaol directly about it, and immediately accepts that he can and says excitedly that maybe they can go see her family together. The initial disbelief might be disconcerting for some people, but she does several things Yrene does not."

May 30, 2020 – page 196

29.7% "As I said, she speaks directly to Chaol about his abilities (something Yrene doesn’t do), asks if he wants to do something together (permission is something for OTHER PEOPLE to Yrene, apparently, at least in regards to revealing someone’s medical information and literally moving people without their permission) and is immediately EXCITED that he can do something Chaol has specifically said he missed."

May 30, 2020 – page 196

29.7% "For the record these are all low bars to clear, but for all the book tries to contrast Yrene and Nesryn’s reactions to Chaol’s disability and how he works with and around it in Yrene’s favor, NESRYN IS THE ONLY ONE WHO CLEARS THE BARS.

But I’m supposed to be upset that she’s surprised that Chaol rode when he hasn’t been able to lately? Through a city that he’s never been to before? Without telling her?"

May 30, 2020 – page 196

29.7% "Not only are these two the only members of an embassy, they are romantically involved. OF COURSE SHE’S SURPRISED ALL OF THIS HAPPENED WITHOUT HER KNOWING ABOUT IT."

May 30, 2020 – page 198

30.0% "At least she apologizes FINALLY but also says that it’s because so few people come in with his injury that she wanted to show her students.

So then you ASK, Yrene, what is this bullshit?"

May 30, 2020 – page 199

30.15% "“She hadn’t considered - his feelings. That he might have them.”

Excuse me, what?"

May 30, 2020 – page 199

30.15% "Yrene is worried that if she leaves the ‘rift’ between her and Chaol will never be repaired because “Healers and their patients required trust. A bond.”

It’s too bad you have repeatedly fucked that up with unprofessional, unthinking, and downright cruel behavior then isn’t it, Yrene?"

May 30, 2020 – page 199

30.15% "I’m sure some people reading this statuses will think I’m being too harsh, but let me explain: Yrene is a healer who has dealt with this kind of injury before. That’s why she was textually assigned to Chaol. Yrene is not a family member who knows nothing of medicine or patient treatment and is feeling her way through learning how to respectfully assist someone with a disability."

May 30, 2020 – page 199

30.15% "Yrene is a PROFESSIONAL, she keeps telling us. She is The Best. She has dealt with this before.

There is literally no excuse for accidentally doing this. Had Yrene been a new healer tossed into this because she just happens to have magical power enough for it and was still a student, I would buy that she maybe hadn’t had the experience to think about it. If she was portrayed as a consummate professional who..."

May 30, 2020 – page 199

30.15% "...did not care about her patients’ feelings so long as she healed their bodies, I would buy it.

She isn’t. The book keeps trying to tell me she is The Best because of temperament and skill and power, but it fails to realize that doing so puts Yrene in a terrible light because all of those things mean she should KNOW BETTER."

#myth rags on throne of glass #myth reads tower of dawn

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fictionalrambles · 4 years ago

Text

Shadowhunters Fandom Story - Part Sixteen

Submitted by @miss-shiva-adler

Five Fave Fics:

1. Your Love is Payment Enough by @tobythewise I don’t know what else to say, I have religiously followed this fic from the first day of posting. It really made me fall in love with Toby’s writing, every word was a treat and really made me just fall in love ? I don’t know what else to say. Toby is an amazing person and I am blessed to call them my friend. They have taught me to fall in love with omegaverse AUs and to be openly writing about kinks that have made me feel embarrassed about to write about before. This fic is the prime example, I love it so so much. Toby has made me feel comfortable to just write things that I otherwise wouldn’t even have conceived sharing with the world. The way Toby writes is a real safe space for me. I thrive on angst and tears and tragedy. But when I read Toby’s fics I know it’s safe, I know they will transport me to a world where things will be alright, writers like Toby are a beating heart in this fandom when you need a fluffy fic to go to. This fic has the right amount of angst that I can read and reread whenever and don’t need to be in a special mindspace to be for it. This fic is a gift that has kept on giving by every update and every chapter.

2. I've got a renegade heart (and it's screaming his name) by LiviKate

This fic was recommended to me by an Aro-ace friend following a discussion about Raphael’s sexuality and how to explore it in fanfiction while still being consistent with a sex-repulsed headcanon. This fic has given me a better insight on how to write Raphael and I take that with me every day when I write Saphael. It helps me navigate on what I want to include and not include in my own fics and that’s wonderful. I love rereading it when I can.

3. thousands upon thousands made an ocean by @oh-la-fraise-blog Team mortal!Alec for ever especially in a TWI! Au I love this fic so much, the wording, the way it’s constructed, it made me want to try things narratively. In so little words it got me to places and emotional places. I literally cannot even remember how many times I have reread this fic. Because it’s this just REALLY REALLY GOOD. I’m glad it exists, I’m glad how it inspired me. I still think about this fic often days or even months after reading this the first time. It’s amazing, it’s everything I want from a TWI fic.

4. In the Sin Bin by @otppurefuckingmagic

I have to mention my first fic I read of this fandom. I was swept away with emotions and I loved the world building from day one. I’m usually not so interested in depowered/human AUs but this one made me like it and convinced me to read more of them and give them a chance. My primary attraction to Alec is the fact that he is closeted and I mean : such a mood ? This fic was around while I am still struggling with myself. This fic somehow helped me, in times where I wasn’t feeling nice or up for it or when I was broody. I was just able to tune out and read this and it made me feel so much better about things; things being myself, my gender etc. I’m glad it exists, I’m glad this is a to go fic that made me feel nice and good. AND THERE ARE ANGST SCENES THAT LIKE I STILL REMEMBER UNTIL THIS DAY AND ITS BEEN LIKE OVER A YEAR NOW.

5. as your sun sets (i know you in bleary-eyed 3AM)

by @the-prophet-lemonade

I don’t know where to begin and where to start, this fic, the writing style. I have yet to review this fic but I feel like I can’t because there is so much that just feels perfect to me. If I ever had writing goals I think it’s theprophetlemonade’s writing style. I can only wish to write this good. I hope to get there eventually and this fic is a motivation to keep going and hoping that I’ll be able to develop my own style and to continue writing even tho the words are sometimes not doing THEIR THING. About this fic I only have this to say : I almost never read Gen or T rated fics that are over 3k, I just don’t, unless very special circumstances. These were super special circumstances, I really needed a long ass fic that was a sense8 AU and I was desperate. So I tried this fic any way. AND OH DAMN (just imagine me capslocking the rest of what I’m about to say) this fic changed how I saw fanfiction as a whole; this fic also kept elements that I really enjoyed in the show, Jace and Alec’s relationship, the background actual polyam Clacemon a pure delight. The yearning both as a reader and Alec for wanting to meet Magnus. It was so good, so.fuckng.good.oh.my.god. I can’t explain how much this fic just made me want to be better at writing as a whole; I’m thankful it exists, I’m thankful it’s there and that I can read it as many times I want. I love the character building, I love the entirety of it. The way the cluster manifests, how it feels natural and how the narrative flows, the fluidity of it, the way that this whole fic is constructed is a pure work of art. I weep as much as I am elated for it.

Tell me what writing for this fandom means to you.

I don’t know where to begin, through this fandom I have found a whole set of friends that mean the world to me as of today. I have wanted to and definitely have improved my writing thanks to this fandom. I have tried things I wouldn’t have even imagined writing before. There are things I was able to try and still want to try and even if I don’t have a steady audience of people I still want to write what interests me above all. Ships that I find interesting to try out to explore. AUs that are maybe a bit over the top or are a bit silly but I feel confident enough to actually share these with readers because I am finally starting to believe that there is readership for what I write.

The first thing I did was cater to my fandom experience and this has just melted out to the better. I’m so grateful. So grateful there are safe spaces for me out there with my main, rare-pairs and even controversial ships. I have tried different styles still in pursuit of getting better and to improve my writing, I’d like to believe and have improved. These characters, oh do I love them all so much. All these characters have potential and made me help focusing on improving them through plot. I have so much improved in my writing when it’s about atmosphere and emotions. And godamned even dialogues (dialogues and fighting scenes are the bane of my existence). This is a gift that I just cherish beyond everything else out there. Next to the friends I have made out there of course.

I also finally wrote my first actual long fic and finished it ? it’s an achievement I’m proud off and will be forever proud of. A bit longer than a year ago I was somewhere really deep, very deep, mentally. I was able to pick myself up again and do what I really love doing best, and that’s writing. I have this fandom to thank for that.

#shadowhunters #shadowhunters fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfiction blog

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jenanigans1207 · 4 years ago

Note

If you are still doing the meta asks for writers, may I ask 5, 15 and 22? Also hope you have a lovely day!

Absolutely!!

5. What character that you’re writing do you most identify with?

Definitely Crowley. Writing Crowley almost feels like writing first person POV sometimes just because those anxieties he has and the way he’d do anything for the person he loves are some strong characteristics that he and I have in common. So it’s really easy for me to get in his head and to write about what he’s feeling because most of the time it’s just how I would feel in those situations.

15. What is harder: titles or summaries (or tags)?

Titles, definitely. I am awful at coming up with titles. I hate the titles of at least half of my fics. I have an entire note in my phone of like 30 potential titles and yet somehow I never think they fit the fics I’m writing and then I pick something totally stupid. Summaries are definitely hard, too, but I usually just copy and paste some snippet of the fic itself and call it good so that’s not something I stress over. And tags are actually my favorite part, so they’re not hard at all!

22. Do you reread your old works? How do you feel about them?

I do eventually reread my old works, yeah. But only after I’ve had a lot of distance from them. I stare at them for so long while writing them that I lose all perspective on whether they’re good or bad and if I read them too soon after posting them, I see things I wish I had changed or other routes I should have taken instead of being able to read the fic as a whole. So usually I require at least 4-5 months away from something before I reread it. But actually even then, I don’t just go through and reread my stuff on my own. I usually only do it after I get a comment on something. And if it’s a good comment that like specifies a certain part or a certain feeling I’ll be like “oh, how did that go again?” and that’s what’ll get me to reread my own stuff. Usually I’m pleasantly surprised by it. Whenever I post something I’m generally dissatisfied with it to some extent but I’m so sick of looking at it that I just need to get it out into the world. And then when I have space away from those feelings and from the areas I struggled with, I can be more objective and I usually end up thinking it’s much better than I remember it being which is always a pleasant surprise.

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violet-knox · 5 years ago

Text

Train Ride Home

Year 6 - Chapter 48

Summary: Desperate for a moment alone, you and Severus quickly snag a compartment on the train ride back to London, enjoying the last bit of time you have together before heading back to the muggle world.

Word count: 3012

A/N: Boy it’s been a while. I really missed this and I hope that after finals I can actually get back into daily updates. On another note, I’ve been updating past chapters and managed to get through years 4 and 5 somehow. So if rereading is something you’d be interested in, feel free to do so (my masterlist is in my blog description and so is a link to my AO3 account). Anyways, that’s enough from me, and I hope you enjoy this chapter cuz I enjoyed writing it (in class~oops).

Previous Chapter - Chapter 1

(Y/F/S) = your favorite sweet

The rigid feeling surrounding the carriage had the two Ravenclaws sitting across from you shifting uncomfortably in their place as Severus shot them a few more sharp glances. Looking out the window, you desperately tried to spot the entrance to the train station with no success. This was going to be a long ride, one you knew Severus didn’t have the patience for.

All he wanted was to spend the last bit of time you had left together alone, uninterrupted, without having to pretend to tolerate the presence of other students. Granted, judging by the look on your face, he wasn’t doing a very good job, not that he cared much. Perhaps if he stared at them long enough, they’d have the decency to jump out the window and spare him from suppressing the urge to do something arguably regrettable. But alas, it was clear, Merlin had to test his diligence around you one last time. After all the events that occurred between you two this year, of course he had to find another barrier in his way.

You looked over to find Severus wearing an expression on his face you could only describe as a cross between agitated and murderous. It was a common look you’d only see when in the company of anyone aside from you. Smiling to yourself, you took his hand in yours and began making soothing circles with your thumb on the back of his hand. He always preferred solidarity, even before you started dating, it was the one quality of his that made it so hard to get an invitation to join him under the shell he’d crawled under all those years ago. Severus relaxed ever so slightly under your touch, his hand squeezed yours, but his eyes didn’t break its intense glare on the students intruding on his time with you.

Finally, the carriages stopped and you couldn’t have opened the door quicker as Severus removed the luggage from underneath the seats and handed it to you. Your unwanted company shuffled through the other side of the carriage, keeping their gaze off the boy who looked just about ready to pounce on them. Severus intertwined your fingers with his as he gripped the handle of his Hogwarts trunk (clearly meeting the end of its life span) and sped towards the train to find an empty compartment before he was forced to bare the company of any more meddlesome students.

Lucky for you both, a free compartment made itself apparent as you walked down the narrow hall of the train. Severus quickly slide the compartment door open and went straight to tucking his luggage way before helping you with your own. Unfortunately, as you’d forgotten to close the door after you entered, you now found yourself face to face with a Gryffindor and two young Hufflepuffs politely asking if the seats across from you were taken.

“Get out.” Severus’ voice rumbled through the confined space as he quickly went to shove them out, closing the door before roughly pulling the curtains shut, as if leaving some sort of warning to anyone else who dare get between him and his love.

“Severus,” you said as you giggled, taking a step towards him. He happily opened his arms to you, wrapping them around your waist as you placed yours over his chest. “That was rude.”

True, they were doing nothing more than trying to find a seat before the rest of the herd joined you on the Hogwarts Express, but you couldn’t lie, you also had no interest in sharing a compartment with anyone other than Severus.

This train was quite special to you. Not only because it had introduced you to the place you grew to call home, but it had also given you the means to meet the boy you grew to find comfort and affection in. It had become quite the symbol for your relationship with Severus; you’d come to Hogwarts this year with nothing more than lingering feelings towards one another and now leaving the same way but as a joint couple, bound together through love. So, was it really so crazy to want nothing but a moment alone together in a place so important to you?

“I don’t care,” he whispered, his grip on you tightening. You could feel his muscles contract as he pulled you in, his eyes lingering between yours and your lips.

You hummed, smiling as you slowly leaned in, connecting your lips with his, loving just how badly he wanted to get you alone. You couldn’t lie, the desperation he showed kind of turned you on, like he’d do almost anything to have you, to be with you. It was an infatuating feeling to see him show just how much you meant to him. Pressing yourself to the length of his frame, you slide your hands up, through his hair, tilting your head all the while to deepen the kiss.

His touch always so feverish, his thin lips moving against yours, the way your fingers so easily slipped through his hair like an eel freely gliding on the bottom of the deepest ocean, you could never get enough. Sliding a hand from the nape of his neck down his chest, you let your fingers teasingly play with the fabric of his school robe before pressing your palm to his lower stomach. A growl vibrated in his throat as he parted from you, only to tilt his head to the other side and reconnect your lips. It was mesmerizing how he’d almost literally take your breath away with the simple token of a kiss.

Deciding to continue your little charade, you let your hand follow the trail his belt made to his hip. In return, Severus gave a little squeeze to your waist in approval before both hands slithered behind you, separating as one rested on your lower back and the other right above your bra strap. You could feel your lunges begging for air as the pressure in your chest intensified, pressing so tightly against him. Your heart raced with every move he made, desperate for more.

Whatever snarky attitude Severus had to take on to get this compartment to yourselves, it was definitely worth it if not for this soul moment of bliss. No space was spared between your chests, and you questioned if he could feel the raging pumps of your heart eagerly emanating. Wondering if his heart was beating just as fast as yours, you slide your hand out of his hair, sliding it down, search for the familiar rhythm giving life to such a brilliant, tenacious, lovestruck boy. You never got the chance to find it however as you practically sprang from his arms at the sound of the door clicking.

Severus was quick to react when he felt you pull away, knowing exactly what caused your little jump scare, his left foot shot up as he leaned back, closing the door. Momentary taking his gaze off you, he locked the compartment entrance in the hopes you wouldn’t be disturbed again before shooting you a smirk and pulling you back in.

You just couldn’t help but giggle as you placed your hands back on his chest. Severus tilted his head, with the clear intention of resuming your kiss, but you just couldn’t stop the soft chuckles escape your lips.

“I love you,” you mumbled as you parted. It was a lost cause trying to resume what you had going before; the mood was ruined.

“I love you more,” he whispered as he let his forehead meet yours, closing his eyes to revel in the moment. He had half a mind to hex the door, causing the next person to even touch the air surrounding the compartment to grow abnormally long fingernails. Let’s see them try to interrupt him again when they can’t even reach the handle.

Biting your lower lip, you slowly stepped away, running your fingers gently down his arm until you captured his hand, leading him to the seat by the window.

Severus let you take a seat first as he took out a book from your luggage. It was the last book you’d brought with you to Hogwarts he hadn’t read yet and though he’d asked you countless times prior, you’d always refused to read it with him, saying you wanted to save it for the ride home. Well, the day finally came, and Severus could only hope the buildup all this anticipation caused would be met with a lyrically blissful book. Though even if it was the worse book ever written, he knew he’d still enjoy it, because he’d be reading it with someone so extraordinarily special to him. He took his place beside you, both instantly cuddled up to one another, feeling the vibrations of the railroad below as the train picked up speed.

The compartment steadied with silence as you both read. Every now and then you’d feel the rumbles of a purr coming from Severus each time you nuzzled into his chest, or the crook of his neck. It was quite endearing, seeing how soft he’d get around you and only you. You hadn’t talked much about summer. Neither of you really enjoyed it, finding a home in Hogwarts, Severus more so than you. But that was before you’d gotten together, before you became a couple. What would happen when you stepped out of this train, heading your separate ways? Sure, you could write to one another, perhaps arrange a meeting like last summer (maybe with a little more flare this time), but is that all? Was that enough? The thought of being apart for so long frightened you. You’d both gotten so used to each other’s company, seeing one another every day during breakfast, studying together in the afternoon, taking a walk in the evening. What would happen now with the extra distance placed between you both?

The sudden squeaks of wheels and the light mumbled of distant chatter outside your crypt of love brought your attention back to the door once more. Severus smirked as he saw your back straighten and your eyes widen in delight. Clearly, you were looking forward to a light treat before arriving in London. It was adorable really, how such small pleasures illuminated you with absolute euphoria.

He bookmarked the page and placed the book on his seat before rummaging through his luggage to find the coin bag stuffed in the bottom of his trunk. “It’s on me,” he said when he saw you reaching to retrieve your own coins.

You froze in your place and slowly lowered your arms as you watched Severus swiftly make his way to the door to unlock it. You felt yourself floating off the ground, admiring how quick he was to notice your needs, jumping at the opportunity to please you.

Just as you made your way over to him, the trolley pulled up to your compartment, Severus already giving the woman his order, handing him the few coins he had left. You wrapped your arms around his waist, pressing your lips to his shoulder as you eyed all the sweets, dancing on the trolley.

Distracted by the vibrant colours and sparkling wrappers, you completely missed Severus stuffing his empty money bag into his pocket and twisting his body to face you. It was only when the trolley began moving and the door slid shut, the familiar sound of the lock clicking once more, that you snapped back to see (Y/F/S) in Severus’ hands as he wore a sweet smile on his face.

“Thank you,” you whispered as he handed it to you. His slender fingers hooked under your chin, bringing your attention back to him as he gently pressed his lips to yours, a quick kiss of appreciation exchanged between the two of you.

Severus picked up the book and opened it to find the page you’d both left on as you took a seat beside him. It wasn’t until then that you’d noticed he’d only bought you something and had neglected to get something for himself. Guilt seeped into your gut as a small frown appeared on your face. Had he really spent what was left of his earnings on something for you to eat? You had money, if he hadn’t stopped you, you could have paid for it yourself, allowing him to indulge himself in whatever he pleased.

Severus placed aside the bookmark but when his eyes turned back to the book, he didn’t find the intricately printed words on the pages of the softcover he was expecting to find, but rather, a broken piece of the treat he’d bought you held in your hands as an offering to him.

“I bought it for you,” he said. It took him a moment to form words. He’d frozen in place, mildly confused as to what you were doing.

“We can share,” you replied as you gestured for him to take his piece.

Smiling, you watched him take the piece from you and pop it into his mouth. Breaking off a piece for yourself, you both ate and chatted the rest of the ride back to London.

It had to be moments like this you’d miss the most. Sure, it was fun to study together, discovering new spells, watching his talent blossom. Stealing glances during class was also something you’d cherish, but this, these moments where you’d simply listen to each other ramble, examining the features of each other’s faces, memorizing the soft tones of one another’s voices, this had to be the best of it all. It was always something you’d rarely get to enjoy as is, but going home would put an even larger dent in your ability to capture such moments. Owling each other letters wouldn’t do and yes, perhaps you could both get your hands on a muggle phone, but that just wasn’t enough.

How were you to enjoy the musky smell of the lavender shampoo he’d use after a bath? How were you to see his lips twitch in happiness each time they parted from yours? How were you to go without feeling him, without seeing him for so long?

“I don’t want to leave the train,” Severus whispered as his fingers gently caressed the plush skin of your cheeks, his eyes roaming your face, desperately trying to memorize the deep colour of your lips, the arc of your brows, the glimmer that brought out the colour of your iris. You closed your eyes and leaned into his touch before wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Neither do I.” Severus felt the tickle of your even breath on the base of his neck as he tightened his hold around your waist, bowing his head to bury his face in your hair.

It was time. The train had stopped several minutes ago. You’d both packed up your belongings, your luggage patiently waiting for you by the entrance. But the door was still bolted shut. Perhaps if you both stayed quiet and closed the curtains, no one would notice and the train would head back to Hogwarts with you in it. You couldn’t believe you had to part from him so soon and you swore the train had somehow gone a million times faster than the last few times you’d ridden it. It wasn’t fair. You weren’t done. You weren’t ready.

Severus pulled back, only enough to capture your lips for one last goodbye kiss, one last chance to relish one another’s taste. You could hear the compartments around you open as the students began to file out of the train and onto the platform. Family members reuniting with their children, grandchildren, nieces and nephews. But you kept your position firm, holding on to Severus for as long as you could.

“We should get going,” you whispered as you heard the happy chatter die down, the last of the student’s passing your compartment and joining the other’s outside the train. Severus sighed before taking a step back, holding you at arm’s length, hoping to capture every detail of this moment. Smiling, you took his hand and you both reached for your luggage.

As Severus slid open the door, you peered down the empty never-ending hall. Two months. Only two months and you’d be back, walking down this grey carpet, sharing a compartment with Severus again. You knew you’d both do everything in your power to see one another over the summer, but you just couldn’t find it in yourself to rely on such vague assumptions.

You could feel the tension pumping through the veins of your boyfriend, and you wondered if he held stronger reservation to leaving than you did. Raising your hand, you gently pressed your lips to the back of his in comfort, lingering just a little longer than you had to as you peered into the deep dusk in his dark pupils. Severus gave you a reassuring smirk before stepping out the door, holding on to you tightly when he saw you were the last to leave. Walking hand in hand, you made your way to the door, time slowing with each step you took, only speeding back up when Severus let you go and you stepped down the stairs onto the warm concrete of the King’s Crossing platform.

The crowd was thick, and you were glad Severus was unable to spot his mother at first glance, giving you just a few more seconds together as you made your way closer to the exit. You were the first to spot her, remembering just how much she stood out in the sea of jubilant families; a lone slim figure of a woman, heavy eyes and an inapparent interest in being reunited with her son.

“I’ll see you soon,” you whispered as you both stopped a few meters away from her.

“I hope so,” he spoke with so much longing in his voice, your heart tugging at his words. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you said before he turned around, walking away, carrying your heart along with him.

Next Chapter

@hoppingsnape @dusk-realm @a-slytherin-sin @trashandshook @sneezy-s @emsdroid @leah-halliwell92 @dellightfullydeceitful @xxaamzxx @sparklingkeylimepie @nameless-sovereign @living-in-margins @justanobodyinthisbigworld @soft-slytherin-sweetie @youtube4life10 @scarletmoon83

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aleteia-ff · 5 years ago

Text

A Decade To Find You - 3

Also Read On: AO3 | FF.net

Thank you everyone for the support! Unfortunately, school started again, so this update came in a bit later, but I'm definitely finishing this story! My current expectation is that it will end at 5 chapters, perhaps 4. This one turned out a lot longer than I'd anticipated, hence me coming back from my earlier estimate of 3 chapters!

I hope you enjoy!

Summary: Astrid didn't think much of the guy she bumped into just after midnight on January 1, 2010. It was just a hasty apology, a quip and a lop-sided grin from his side. It wasn't supposed to be special.Hiccup felt the same way. That was, until he locked eyes with her again one year later. And the year after that. And the next.But somehow, their destinies only seemed to intertwine that one night a year... On New Year's Eve.

Hiccstrid, New Year’s Eve Fic. Spanning the entire past decade.

Chapter 3: New Year’s Eve 2016

December 31st, 2016

Life came with a lot of difficult choices. Hiccup knew that all too well. Batman, Superman, or simply admitting that the DCEU, especially after Suicide Squad, didn't quite hold a candle to the MCU? It was a shame, really. He'd always loved Batman, had reread many of his old comics since 2014, even saw the humour in George Clooney's Batnipples. But perhaps Justice League would prove everyone wrong in 2017. Hopefully.

At least it hadn't been difficult to choose between Team Cap and Team Iron Man. As much as he adored Spider-Man, his father's opinion was simply more important. And Steve Rogers was their guy.

He felt silly to be spending energy on those dilemmas, but after all the shit he'd been through, it was a breath of fresh air to be worried about stuff that was simple. To have his life on the rails, to no longer be forced to sort through his father's will and figure out how to handle all the insurance and ownership documents. He'd even felt comfortable enough to go and study abroad, having spent the best part of the last half year in Melbourne while Gobber, Snotlout and Uncle Spite took care of what was now his house.

Uncle Spite had told him that it was fine if Hiccup wanted to sell it, that he would find a trustworthy real estate agent who got him his money's worth. It would allow Hiccup to buy an apartment in Hopeless, closer to university, and leave Berk and all the painful memories there behind.

He'd seriously considered the change of scenery, because of course it was difficult to forget what had happened when so many people around him knew. Not just the small family that remained. But also Mrs. Ack from down the street, who kept bringing him leftovers, because his thin frame had led her to assume he wasn't feeding himself properly. The Bog family, who lived a few houses away and whose eldest daughter, Camicazi, frequently stole his garbage bags long and put them at the side of the street for the truck to pick up. Everyone knew what had happened to him, and wanted to do their utmost best to support him. He didn't need it, and had told them to stop several times, painfully elated and awkward, rubbing the back of his head so hard he was surprised he hadn't gone bald yet. But Berkians were stubborn, and persisted nevertheless.

And the more time he'd spent in Australia, the more he'd started to miss Berk. He didn't know what it was about the town that had been his family's home for seven generations. But the moment he'd set foot in it again after returning from the other side of the world, it had simply felt like home. And for now, he had no intention to leave.

He didn't know what it was, exactly. Tuffnut and Ruffnut weren't around much, their band now touring the country and only returning as a service to Gruffnut, who had given them the necessary spotlight by booking them last New Year's Eve - although the way the twins told the story, it was Gruffnut who owed them, not the other way around. Fishlegs was studying at the Hopeless Institute of Technology - the name of which was a HIT with students in exam weeks - like him, so Berk wasn't where they saw each other most. Hiccup had grown closer to Snotlout however, some of his cousin's obnoxiousness having faded after his father passed away. Or it was simply being channelled into the roles he played with Berk's local musical theatre company.

Still, Hiccup felt something was keeping him in Berk. He didn't mind it, not in the slightest, it felt good, like he'd finally found a fragment of inner peace. But he didn't know what it was exactly.

And he didn't have time to think about it, since a voice snapped him out of his tragically derailed train of thought.

"What's on the menu?"

He had only heard it one time before, seven years ago. Yet he recognised it immediately.

He turned his head, looking right into the beautiful blue eyes of the woman next to him. He had to look down at her now, unlike on the first day of 2010, but felt incredibly tiny nevertheless. He'd thought he'd blown it when she'd fled from him last year, having rejected her himself the year before that one. But here she was, smiling at him with a teasing smirk on her face and making the ground underneath his feet disappear, sending him into a free fall.

"Hey - uh - hey -" He laughed sheepishly when he finally remembered how to form words, rubbing the back of his head, and her grin only widened. "Hi," he concluded more sternly, as if it would miraculously make up for his earlier stammering.

She bit her lower lip, laughing still and making his insides contract because he'd thought she couldn't look cuter, a dark blue beanie pulled over her ears, but of course she kept surprising him. "Hey."

For all the times he'd imagined spending time with her, he now realised he'd put embarrassingly little effort into what exactly he would say to her when the stars finally aligned.

There were a million thing he could say, but now that he had the chance, he couldn't come up with anything. His eyes flicked back to the wooden stall in front of him, to the choice he'd been trying to make, and he finally realised that she had already asked him a question he still had to answer.

"All of this is on the menu," he told her, widely gesturing at the space in front of him, a holiday market stall selling all kinds of New Year's treats and drinks from around the world. "I don't even know half of it, but I figured I should try something."

"How about you let me pick?" she proposed. "And I'll pay for it too, in case it's horrible."

"Only if you have it with me," he smiled, her smirk contagious. "And let me buy you a drink in return."

"Deal," she nodded, instantly stepping forward to examine the shop's showcase, her brows furrowing as she focused. Occasionally, she made an adorable sound when she not-so-silently judged the different kinds of food, and Hiccup found himself staring at her, cherishing the moment.

Because she hadn't disappeared yet.

He quickly pretended to be studying the sign that listed the available drinks when she glanced over her shoulder, shooting him another smile.

"Glühwein?" he asked, his voice shooting up as if he'd gone straight back to puberty.

"Nah." She shook her head, looking away from a moment. "I don't drink." She paused before adding: "Not anymore."

"I can respect that," he nodded, thinking back to the times he'd seen her considerably less sober. Despite only catching a glimpse of her, he was sure just last year had been one of those. And he couldn't deny that while he respected anyone enough to let them make their own decisions, she hadn't looked as well as she'd done the years before. As if there had been a little less light in her otherwise bright eyes.

She pulled up an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Yeah," he shrugged, gesturing at his head. "Hangovers suck. Kills your brain too. And booze doesn't even always taste as good as people pretend it does."

"I'm glad you agree," she hummed.

"You make it sound like I'm special."

She took him in for a moment, as if she was seizing him up. "I guess you are. Most of my friends at university disagreed."

"Seems like you need better friends."

"Which is why I'm here." Her lips settled back into a smile. "And I think you still owe me a mug of hot chocolate."

He couldn't help but grin. "Sounds like a plan."

He ordered two mugs of hot chocolate with whipped cream on top while Hot Chocolate Girl - her name, he had to ask for her name - picked out a snack she liked. They walked away from the stall with what she laughingly informed him were called 'Dutch doughnuts' - huge balls of deep fried dough with raisins in them, covered in about a pound of powdered sugar.

He asked her if she wanted to sit down.

"Of course," was her simple answer.

They zigzagged through the crowd, her leading so he wouldn't lose sight of her - not again - until they reached one of the market's squares. He thanked the Gods Luktuk had gotten spiteful and had organised its own winter market this year. Meaning it was a lot less busy and that there were actually some free spots. He had already started to dread the prospect of having to go and sit back with Snotlout. Not that Snot wasn't good company, but from the corner of his eye he could easily see his cousin, already sufficiently drunk, draw Barney Stinson's hot-crazy scale in the air, challenging Fishlegs and the twins to determine where Hot Chocolate Girl would land.

So much for Snotlout losing some of his obnoxiousness.

They sat down across from each other at one of the wooden picnic tables, and for a moment, Hiccup felt himself caught in how unreal the situation felt. He had thought of this girl for years, imagined what she might be like, chased by the notion that seeing her every year on one specific day couldn't be a coincidence. And now he had the chance to confirm that suspicion.

He laughed at himself for his superstition. He had no idea if she even had the same ideas about him. But she chuckled, too, and their eyes met again.

"What's your name?" he asked, curling his fingers around his mug.

"Astrid. Astrid Hofferson." She - Astrid - slowly moved her spoon, mixing the cream into the hot chocolate. "You?"

He blinked, somewhere surprised that she didn't know it already. That he had forgotten that she knew as little about him as he did about her. "I'm -"

He was going to offer her the formal introduction he gave any stranger. But that didn't feel right.

"People call me Hiccup."

Astrid - such a pretty name - pulled up her eyebrow. "Hiccup?"

"It's a nickname," he shrugged. "People close to me have been calling me that for as long as I've known. I was quite small as a kid." He held out his hand next to the table, at the same height his hip would now be. "Dad called me a little Hiccup, and it stuck. First with my cousin, who was in the same class as me in elementary school… And you know how kids are."

"Assholes," she noted.

"Definitely."

She reached for her pocket, whisking out her phone. She bit her lower lip as she started to type. "Are you Hiccup on Facebook too?"

He gave her a sheepish grin. "No, I actually don't have Facebook. Nor Instagram. Or Snapchat."

"Whoa. What century did you come from?"

"I'm not much of a social media guy," he tried to explain. "Not a fan of Mark Zuckerberg getting his hands on all my data."

"Yeah, he is a bit of a creep," Astrid nodded. "Shame I can't go without Messenger."

"Call me old-fashioned, but I can give you my number instead," he proposed. "I do have WhatsApp."

She frowned. "Didn't Facebook buy WhatsApp like two years ago?"

"Just an introduction to how consistent my principles are," he quipped.

"At least you have some. I'm just a regular sell-out." She swiped around on her phone for a moment, before handing it to him. She had opened a new contact, the name already filled out.

"Fake Foot Guy?" he laughed.

"It's not much worse of a nickname than 'Hiccup'," she shot back.

She'd had a nickname for him too. "Can't argue with that."

He typed his number into her phone and handed it back to her, feeling awfully giddy at how easy it was to talk to her. Astrid tucked it back into her jeans, and pointed at the curious snack in front of her. "After you."

"Whoa, Astrid," he objected, putting his hands up in the air. "You picked it out."

"Fine, I'll be the brave one," she joked, and lifted the doughnut, making a toast with it. "Bon appetit."

She took a bite, looking pensive as she chewed calmly before finally publishing her verdict. "It's not too bad, actually."

Encouraged, he began to eat as well, taking a big bite to show he wasn't a coward.

"You're right, not as bad as it looks."

"You doubted me?"

"Not even for a second."

She shook her head at him, working the rest of the doughnut down with impressive speed. She propped her head up on her hand as she waited for him to finish, playfully cocking her head and tapping her fingers on the table while grinning to herself.

"Hey, at least I'm taking the time to enjoy my food," he defended himself.

"Oh, that's now why I'm laughing," Astrid grinned. "You just have some sugar on your face."

"Where?"

Astrid gestured to her own face, drawing a circle in the air. "Everywhere."

Way to make an impression, Haddock. He hastily grabbed his napkin, but when he looked back up he found Astrid leaning over the table, tentatively reaching out to him with hers.

He sat there, frozen when she carefully wiped the tip of his nose as if it was the most obvious, the most natural thing to do. With her so close, he could count the few freckles on her cheeks, her entire presence kissed by the sun in a way people in Berk so rarely were. His eyes fell to her soft, pink lips, slightly chapped by the cold, and he considered hooking his finger underneath her chin and finding out if she still tasted like sugar too. But he figured she always did.

It felt like it was supposed to. It felt right. As if he'd never done otherwise. As if he was lucky enough to get to gaze into her beautiful blue eyes every single day.

While the truth was that he hardly even knew her.

"What do you do?" he asked, his voice hoarse.

"Huh?" Astrid blinked, then looked at her hand, her eyebrows shooting up as if she hadn't realised it belonged to her. "I'm sorry -"

"No, don't be," he told her as she backed away, already missing the closeness and sheepishly cleaning the remaining sugar off his face to occupy himself. "I just meant, what do you do on, you know, other days than New Year's Eve?"

"Oh." She sat down, wiped off her hands and tucked some of her hair back behind her ear. "Mostly volunteer work, these days. Trying to help people where I can."

"That's great!"

"Yeah, it's very satisfying." Her voice trailed off, making him raise an eyebrow.

"Sounds like there's a 'but'."

She smiled slightly. "It's not exactly long-term. I need to find an actual job eventually so I can move out and become an actual adult."

"Any ideas on that yet?"

She shook her head. "That's the issue. I went to uni to become a doctor so I could help people, but it wasn't for me. So this past year, I've been trying to figure out what I want to do instead."

"I don't see how that's an issue."

"Because it's not the way it's supposed to go!" Astrid exclaimed. "I always thought gap years were a waste of time, and now here I am, doing exactly what I vouched I never would."

"Life hardly ever goes how it's supposed to," he shrugged, taking a sip. "And it doesn't seem to me like you're not doing anything."

She cocked her head at him. "What makes you so sure?"

Because I feel like I've known you all my life. "You don't seem like the kind of person to lie in bed watching Netflix all week."

"Of course not," she snorted.

"And you probably volunteer like ten, twenty hours a week…" he murmured, trying not to grin.

"Thirty. At least," she corrected him. "Fifty maybe, if there's a kickboxing tourney in town."

"Okay, public service announcement, don't pick a fight with Astrid," he quipped, painting the words in the air. "Although it's unlikely kicking your ass fits her schedule, because she works so godsdamned hard."

Astrid gave him a determined look. "I can always take time out of my day for special cases."

"Lucky me, people have been telling me I'm very special all my life," he mock-gaped. "What are the odds!"

"About the same as those of living in a town with one hundred thousand people, but nevertheless seeing the same person eight New Year's Eves in a row?"

He froze and looked at her, the way his blue eyes peered into his, searching for something. "You realised it too," he gaped, his voice suddenly a lot softer.

"Of course I did," she scoffed, rolling her eyes. "I may be a drop-out, but I'm not stupid."

"Didn't meant to imply you were, just…" he laughed at himself. "I thought I was the weird one."

"I don't think you're weird," Astrid reassured him. "Just a dork."

"Do you…" he started, his throat suddenly dry. "Do you think it's a coincidence?"

"That's what I'm trying to figure out."

He was staring at her again, wondering if leaning across the table and kissing her would be an acceptable way of 'figuring it out'. If she would find it inappropriate, or if she would wrap her arms around his neck and kiss him back until their position inevitably became uncomfortable.

He could get up and walk to the other side of the table, sit down on the bench next to her and pull her into his lap, curl his arms around her and hold her until the clock hit midnight. So she wouldn't vanish, not this year. Ask her to come home with him, or meet him again tomorrow, because they had only barely talked and he already couldn't imagine never hearing her voice again. Because it had been enough to catch a hint of how she was brave, passionate, selfless, and smart. And he wanted to know everything else there was to learn about her.

He was snapped out of it by Astrid clearing her throat. "So what about you?"

He blinked profusely and sat back, not even realising he'd been leaning forward. "Huh?"

"What do you do?"

"Oh, I -" He took a deep breath, trying to push away the heat in his cheeks through sheer force of will. "I'm still studying. Trying to become an engineer."

"What kind?"

"For a long time, I wanted to do something with aviation," he elaborated, studying her face for a trace of boredom but finding her eyes opening up instead. "Like, my room is full of sketches of rockets, air planes, flight suits."

"Flight suits?"

"Yeah, you know, so people can fly themselves." He moved his arms, demonstrating the idea until she laughed and made him realise how stupid he made himself look. "It'd probably be a regulatory nightmare though, given that airports already aren't happy with people flying drones." He grinned. "So naturally, I got myself one for Christmas."

Astrid leaned forward, giving him a knowing look. "Does it fly yet?"

"No, but -" He continued, despite Astrid's chuckles. "That's only because I'm making some modifications."

"Sure," Astrid teased.

"It's true! Sticking to the basics takes all the fun out of it."

"Basic planes do sound a lot safer to me, you know," Astrid countered.

"Well, you're in luck, because that's what I was getting to," he explained. "I've loved planes all my life but recently, I've been giving a lot of thought to this thing. You know, what gave me my superhero name." He grinned, vaguely gesturing to his left foot. "The longer I live with it, the more ideas I get to improve it. So maybe I should do that instead." He shrugged. "Help people like me."

Astrid smiled softly. "I think that's a wonderful idea."

"Me too."

He could only smile back as a silence settled between them. It wasn't uncomfortable - on the contrary, he felt he could do this all day, simply look at her, the sounds of the busy market around them seemingly non-existent. Suppress the urge to reach out towards her, unwrap her delicate fingers from around her mug just so he could study them.

He felt like Tarzan - minus the dreadlocks, broad chest and any other kind of muscle definition - wanting to pull off just one of the gloves of his Jane. Not that she was his, of course, he barely knew her name, for years he had known nothing more than that her smile warmed his heart and that every moment they shared seemed to last forever. Besides, he was a 21st century man who didn't believe women to be his property in any way. In fact, he didn't mind a woman who looked like she could kick his ass instead.

But he cherished the thought of carefully taking her fingers in his, treat them delicately despite her obvious strength, and press their palms flat against each other. To get a sense of just how real she was, her warm skin against his, treat her as if she was the first woman he'd ever laid eyes on. Because in a weird way, it felt like it. Then again, everything about this was weird, but in a way that made his heart beat faster.

He could do it. Take her hand, wrap his fingers around it and simply hold them. He would settle for that, and not let her go for the rest of the night. Not even when the fireworks started. He wasn't concerned with those. He was just wondering if they would also go off in his head the moment he kissed her.

Or he could finally realise he was staring at her like a fool, way longer than any sane person would. He blinked profusely, and she cocked her head at him, clearly amused as she took another sip.

He cleared his throat, trying to come up with something smooth, or another topic, but he found himself speechless. "There's so much I want to ask you," he laughed, embarrassingly awkward. "But I can't think of anything."

"Really?" Astrid teased. "Nothing?"

How old are you? Do you prefer dogs or cats? Sushi: overpriced raw fish or actually quite okay? How do you feel about Brangelina getting divorced? Who is your favourite character in Friends? Will you think less of me if I admit I exercised almost every day last Summer, but that ninety-nine percent of that was walking around town catching Pok émon? What even is Brexit?

Do you feel like there 's something here too? Do you like me, even a little bit?

"I just don't know where to start," he shrugged.

"Perhaps you could Google it," she grinned, seemingly content with letting him drown.

"You know, there are actually lists for that," he pointed out, pulling another useless fact out of his repertoire. "Questions to ask on dates."

"Oh?"

He treasured the fact that she didn't ask whether this was a date. So he leapt again. "Yeah. Like a list of 36 questions that 'guarantee' two people will fall in love with each other."

She snorted. "Now that sounds like yak dung." He opened his mouth to agree, but she added: "So go ahead."

He opened and closed his mouth a few times, like a confused goldfish, not having expected to get this far. "I don't know them by heart…"

"You don't do this often?"

He liked the twinkle in her eyes, the way she consistently teased and challenged him. No, he loved that.

"But there was this one question that stuck with me, regardless," he continued. "If you were able to live to the age of ninety, and retain either the mind or the body of a thirty year-old for the last sixty years of your life…. Which one would you want?"

Astrid answered nearly instantly. "Body."

Well, if I had yours, that's what I'd pick too.

"And that's not to sound vain," she elaborated before he could comment. "It's not about that at all, but the thought of becoming so old that I can no longer move around on my own, that I'd need help to get everywhere, or that I simply don't have the energy to do the things I love anymore… I'd hate that. I would lose my independence, my freedom. I don't know what it's like to be thirty yet, of course, but if I got to live the next sixty years feeling like I do right now, but with more and more experience as time goes by, I'd sign up for that." She grinned. "And of course, not getting any wrinkles, or menopause, is an upside too."

"Not sounding vain, right?" he quipped, earning him a punch in his shoulder.

"I gave you a serious answer!"

"I know, I know!" He put his hands up in the air. "But hey, don't blame yourself for being gorgeous."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Hiccup…"

He liked the way she said his name. He hoped she would do it again. "Look, if you can't take a compliment, that's not my fault."

"Fine." She rolled her eyes. "You're not bad yourself either."

He tried not to bask in that comment, in the knowledge that she might like him, even a little bit. He did his best to wipe his grin off his face and continue where they left off. "But I get what you mean, I suppose. People say that you need three things to live a happy life." He counted on his fingers. "Time, energy, and money. If you're young, you have time and energy, but no money. When you're a proper working adult, you have energy and money, but no time. And once you've retired, you've finally got time and money, but no energy. So I don't think your choice is that strange at all. Let alone vain."

"Well, that's one way to get depressed," Astrid huffed.

He gave her a wry smile. "Leave it up to me to brighten the mood, I guess."

"No worries, it won't keep me up at night," Astrid shrugged. "So what about you? What would you pick? If you remembered the question, you probably thought about what you'd answer too."

"I did," he admitted, rubbing the back of his head. "It's… interesting, but I always thought the answer was obvious. Then you made some really good points, and -"

"And I'm interested in yourreasoning, not your backpedalling."

"Okay…" He shifted, pushing his bangs back. "I'd choose mind. I'd never thought about those things you mentioned, about the whole 'walking around with a walking frame' part of getting old. Especially with my leg and all." He vaguely gestured beneath the table. "Whenever I think about reaching those ages, my mind always goes to the documentaries, the news reports about people with dementia. Because I just find them so incredibly… scary."

Astrid nodded at him and he briefly chewed on his lower lip before he continued. "The thought of getting Alzheimer's, of digressing until you forget yourself and the people around you… I don't think it runs in my family, at least not the early version of it, as far as I know, but I know that doesn't make me immune and it's just -" He sighed. "I know we all die eventually, that's inevitable. But I wouldn't want to go like that."

"Me neither," Astrid softly said, glancing at her hands. "Can I still change my pick? No use in feeling fit if you don't remember what to do with it."

"Or we could team up," he joked, wanting her to smile again. "One preserved body, one preserved mind."

"Sounds like a plan," Astrid laughed. "When I'm old and senile, you just tell me what to do and I will carry you around when you can no longer walk yourself."

"Perfect!" he agreed, grinning. "Match made in heaven."

Astrid cocked her head, observing him as her lips settled back into a slight smile. "It'd seem that way."

Had they both just implied they'd still be in each other's life years from now? Was he reading too much into that? Into the way Astrid's eyes seemed to soften the longer she looked at him, in how he was struggling to remember the last time he'd felt both this excited and this at ease?

He should just ask her. Show that he wasn't afraid to step up and declare he liked her more than he should like anyone he'd talked to this shortly.

"Do you -"

He was interrupted by a loud crash, a shout coming from the other side of the square, the world suddenly larger than just the two of them. He twisted his head to see a guy with fiery red hair stumble backwards, reaching for his eye.

"Dagur!" Astrid jumped up, sprinting in the direction of the sound as the man - Dagur? - balled his fist.

And punched the guy Hiccup only now recognised as Snotlout right in his nose.

"Fuck," Hiccup muttered, rushing after Astrid.

Snotlout recoiled, grasping his nose, blood seeping out from between his fingers as he ran into Dagur shoulder first. Ruffnut and Tuffnut cheered as the two fell over, crashing into the bench Fishlegs had been sitting on until a second ago. What the Hel had they gotten themselves into?

Astrid reached them before Hiccup did, shouting in exasperation at the men rolling around on the ground. "What the fuck are you doing!?"

No one gave her nor the small crowd that had gathered the answer they were looking for. Astrid rolled her eyes, digging her nails into Dagur's leather jacket and pulling him off Snotlout with a show of strength that seemed to surprise Dagur too and left Snotlout on the ground, wide-eyed.

Dagur tried to rush back in, but Astrid yanked him back. "Nope, you're not ruining my night, not this year." She twisted his arm behind his back when he moved again, making him yelp. "You can go berserk in your own time!"

"It wasn't my fault!" Dagur sputtered, his left eye blue with something Hiccup didn't know was a bruise or a tattoo. "He hit me first!"

"You were asking for it!" Snotlout yelled, coughing as blood streamed into his mouth from his obviously broken nose.

"Nah." "Not really." The twins countered instantly, crossing their arms.

Hiccup rushed over to Snotlout as he got back up, and put his hands on his shoulders. "Whoah, Snot, calm down."

"Move over," Snotlout insisted. "Let me at him!"

"Dude, your nose's broken," he argued as calmly as he could, trying to use his height advantage to prevent Snot from moving.

"You know him?"

He looked back over his shoulder at a sceptical Astrid, her eyebrow pulled up, Dagur's efforts to squirm out of her hold futile. He didn't know whether to yell at Snotlout or simply stand there and be impressed with how well she handled guys two times her size. Make a bad and inappropriate joke about her handling him, sometime…

"My cousin," he shrugged, trying to make clear that he also didn't ask for this. Out of all the nights Snotlout had to be, well, Snotlout…

"Nice family you got there," Astrid snorted.

"Right back at you."

"Nope." Astrid shook her head. "Best friend's brother."

"Oh my Thor… You broke my nose!" Snotlout suddenly yelped, as if he'd only just realised it.

"Heh. You kind of sound like Hiccup, talking through your nose and all," Tuffnut commented.

"You gave me a black eye!" Dagur yelled.

"I'm gonna sue you!"

"Playing the lead role in a local production of Grease doesn't make you an American, Snot," Hiccup bit, trying to glance over Dagur's shoulder, where Astrid was trying to hold her grip. "Astrid -"

"Is there are doctor around!?" Snotlout whined.

"I hope so, cause you need one, to fix your head!" Dagur bellowed.

"Guys, fighting doesn't solve anything, please stop…" Fishlegs tried weakly.

Dagur surged forward with such force that the last thing Hiccup saw was Astrid tumbling backwards on the ground, right before Dagur collided with him and Snotlout. They landed in a pile of limbs, both real and fake, Hiccup's elbow landing right in Snotlout's stomach and Dagur's knee digging into his thigh. He cried out in pain, trying to push Dagur off him but ending up as the heavily abused third wheel, caught in the crossfire while neither Snotlout nor his assailant paid any actual attention to him.

"Alright, fine, then we'll try it this way."

His misery was interrupted by a few flashes of blond, followed by pained yelps from Dagur. Finally free, he sputtered and rolled off of Snotlout. He pushed himself up, glancing around to thank his saviour and finding Astrid next to him, perched up on Dagur, holding his arms behind his back as he was lying face down on the floor. Looking uncannily comfortable, as if she was doing this every day.

"We should probably get out of here before the cops get here," she casually remarked.

"If I didn't know better I'd think you were currently undercover," he grinned, distractingly offering Snotlout a not-so-helping hand while keeping his eyes on the most badass woman in the world. He was happy she wasn't with the police though. He didn't need the idea that she could end up like his father.

"You caught me," she laughed. "I'm trying to get a breakthrough in the curious case of cute guys who only appear on New Year's Eve."

He could feel his face change colour. Along with his hand when Snotlout gripped it, leaving it sticky with blood as his cousin hauled himself up.

"Geez, can no one hand him a tissue?" he asked, agitated. Ruffnut shrugged as if there was no other sensible option, zipped open her coat and tore off part of her shirt, handing it to Snotlout, who promptly pressed it to his nose.

"Astrid -"

"Oh Gods," Snotlout gasped, glancing at the piece of fabric and seeing how red it had gotten in mere seconds. "That's a lot of blood."

"- this is not how -"

"Am I dying?"

"- I thought this would go -"

"I'm definitely dying."

"- but thank you, and -"

"But I'm too young and handsome to die!"

"And I think you should get your charming cousin to the ER," Astrid smiled, softly patting Dagur's head when he struggled again.

"I'm sorry," Hiccup tried. So this was how it ended. His first true chance in seven years.

"I'll call you tomorrow," Astrid reassured him with yet another smile.

That phrase stayed with him as he told her goodbye, dragging Snotlout away from the crowd, the others following in his wake. It was echoing through his head when the clock hit midnight in the waiting room of the hospital and Snotlout lamented this being the worst New Year's ever, his complaints unheard because Hiccup himself simply disagreed. He was on cloud nine despite the hospital smell, despite having to explain to the twins that bringing booze into the ER to 'have a bit of a party after all' wasn't socially acceptable behaviour, despite being semi-traumatised by Fishlegs Googling every single medical condition a nosebleed could be a symptom of. No matter how often Hiccup pointed out that there was a direct correlation between the position of Snot's nose, the unstoppable force that had met it and the voluminous amount of blood.

Astrid's words were still with him when he woke up the following morning, feeling like he had a hangover despite not having drunk any alcohol. But in a good way. The best way. The kind that made him giddy and excited, anxiously glancing at his phone while he tried to go about his day.

And they didn't leave him until by the end of January, Astrid still hadn't called.

#a decade to find you #modern au #hiccstrid #hiccup #astrid #httyd #httyd fanficion #aleteia-writes #i love musical theatre snotlout #i love using all the references #it was a good refresher of 2016 to write this chapter #hiccup is such a drama queen #httyd fanfiction #fanfiction #nye #new year's eve

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justphilia · 4 years ago

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Aubade is a great fic; too bad it’s possibly dead.

Been a while since I did a long long babble on a fic I like, and lately, I’ve been rereading a few fics to fuel my entertainment. I low key notice how rare it is to find a multi-chaptered fic for Ritshou that doesn’t have Terumob as main, which is really funky honestly.

I talked about Aubade once, in my list of incomplete fanfics I missed back in like February. But it’s so good, I’m gonna make a long post about it lmao.

Even though this fic has literally taken the number one ranking in my favorites list, it only took today for me to bookmark it in my ao3 (mostly because I’ve been waiting it for it to be completed before doing so.)

And generally, anything that I bookmark on ao3 is something I’ve cried about at least once, whether it’s because of the story or because I love the story too much. So anyways,

Aubade by Ravenesta is a M rated Ritshou fic centered around Ritsu, who moves in with Shou after Shou declared he was going to stay in Japan for good.

They buy an apartment together near Ritsu’s university and go on a shopping spree in IKEA for furniture and such, which is as chaotic as it doesn’t sound. The tension between them is real and it’s there, so much so you just want them to get together already sometimes.

I’ve read this fic for a total of 4 times, and I will keep rereading it until the day I die. If you asked me what would come to mind if I thought about Ritshou, it would be the fic’s summary;

My dove, my doe, I love you so I cannot, will not, let you go

Ritsu and Shou have been orbiting around each other ever since they were thirteen years old. Really, something like this was inevitable.

It’s so simple and sweet, and somehow, without fail, every time this summary (specifically the poem) comes to mind, I would get teary eyed. Even now I’m getting :’( over the poem, just because it literally speaks Ritshou to me.

The fic starts off with Ritsu heading back home by train to Seasoning City during his summer break from college in Grain City. It’s written in a way where it’s very easy for you to visualize the scenario of Ritsu waiting for the train to come while holding a cup of cheap coffee.

It’s realistically detailed too, going as far as to include little quirks about Ritsu and the people around him (stranger or not).

Both Shou and Shigeo gets introduced during a phone texting scene, where you can easily tell their personality was conveyed right through the way they message Ritsu. Shigeo adds little face emoticons with caring and sweet messages, and Shou shortens his words to ‘u’ and ‘ur’ with chaotic spacings between words and many exclamation marks.

Even Ritsu has his own way of messaging, always adding punctuation to his sentences.

Later on, after Ritsu arrives in Seasoning City, he’s picked up by Shigeo and Teru, who are already a couple in this fic, and you can tell how much Ritsu misses his home.

Teru is such a beautiful mess in this fic, everything about him is dramatic and overtop, going from his haircut to his little diet habits, and he’s still playful with Ritsu. The ‘Little Brother’ nickname will never go away.

(Also, at some point, Ritsu makes a face immaturely after seeing Shigeo drop a kiss on Teru’s head and I think that was pretty funny)

(Also also, they all call Reigen ‘Dad’. Which is hecking adorable, but it did confuse me at some point because Ritsu named Reigen’s contact as Dad and I legitimately thought that was Ritsu’s actual dad until later.)

Fast forward after Ritsu gets a haircut from Teru in Spirits and Such. Pretty funny considering how Reigen did the same thing to Serizawa in Season 2, but I’m mildly sure Serizawa doesn’t exist in this fic so it was probably a coincidence.

So they’re going shopping and Ritsu gets another text from Shou, because Shou isn’t in town, or at least, that was what we were led to believe, until he does pop up.

And it wouldn’t be Shou if his appearance isn’t random, so of course his first line is to comment on Kiwis looking like balls.

Ritsu, being Ritsu, responds by calling Shou an asshole and proceeds to be conflicted between wanting to punch Teru, because he knew all along, or wanting to hug Shou, because Ritsu misses him so much. He goes for the latter.

Cue Shou and Ritsu hanging out because Shigeo and Teru had to go save Reigen from a spirit job, and their interaction is just so Ritshou it makes you feel fuzzy inside y’know? Because it’s just...friends being friends.

Ok so fast forward again, and they’re sitting around in Ritsu’s room and here’s where the plot begins:

Shou, sleepily, declares he wants them to live together, before suddenly falling asleep.

And Ritsu panics because he can’t tell if he’s serious or just sleep drunk. So he consults Teru to confirm this, who answers that, yes, Shou was being serious, and this just makes Ritsu panic even more because wow he did not expect that and mostly because he can’t afford an apartment.

Shou, being the rich boy he is, offers to settle the payment, because of course he would.

Ritsu weighs his options in his head and convinces himself that he’ll do it. So that’s what they do. They make a little list, which is funny and adorable, and start scouting for apartments online.

Fast forward yet again and Ritsu’s plan was to first gather his shit from his dorm room, crash there for a bit, before fully moving into the new apartment.

Reigen, Teru, and Shigeo are seeing the two off at the train station, and Reigen being Reigen, he’s all double checking that Ritsu has all his shit and it’s just such a dad moment.

Most of their luggage is Shou’s because Ritsu packs light and most of his things are at the dorm, and I brought this up because of this scene:

“It’s my oldest friend!” Shou had argued, trying to wrestle it from Ritsu’s hands. “Six years I have known you, Suzuki, and never once has there been a working bulb in this lamp.”

We get a few more cute scenes of Shou running around and being playful before being tired out and falling asleep on the train, and there’s this tender moment where Shou’s snuggling on Ritsu’s jacket, which the latter had taken off early, and he makes a comment saying how it smells like Ritsu which just baffles the only. It’s...nice, makes me fluffy.

Anyways they reach Ritsu’s dorm to crash and pack, and they have this scene where Shou gets a little emotional about how organized Ritsu is, and he genuinely couldn’t believe how Ritsu is making this work.

So! Chapter 6, alright! And it’s the apartment viewing chapter, because of course they need to view apartments before moving in (which is as fun as it sounds).

They view 3 apartments, with the third try being the charm;

Apartment 1 fucking sucks! And Ritsu only chose this because he wanted to get a feel of how apartment viewing works, and you gotta hand it to him for thinking ahead. So no matter what, he knows he won’t be buying this apartment.

Apartment 2 was actually pretty decent, the landlord, however, was not. Throughout this scene, she is constantly trying to get into Ritsu’s space, and you don’t exactly know what’s up until the very end where she gets really close. Shou saves Ritsu in the end by dragging him away and making it known that, “THIS IS MY MAN DO NOT TOUCH.” And makes an enemy out of her, so big whoops.

Apartment 3 is kinda awkward but workable, with their landlord being the sweetest man to walk this earth. His kids were born on the viewing day, which made him a little late, though Ritsu finds in understandable. After the viewing, Ritsu asks if they can crash at the apartment even though they haven’t actually gotten it yet, and the man’s like, “Don’t worry, you’re gonna live here anyways so might as well crash here now!” Protect this man.

Next scene we have Ritsu finally moving out of his dorm and into the apartment with Shou and after getting a few groceries, they finally decide they should head to IKEA for furniture. It’s a pretty funny scene because everyone knows IKEA is an equivalent to a bloody maze, so you get to watch them play around in the display rooms and climbing into beds and getting lost.

And it’s funnier because this is the Shou’s first time stepping foot into an IKEA, and Ritsu makes fun of him for it briefly. Shou gets back at him later on when they’re playing around in a bathroom display room.

he doesn’t quite notice where Shou’s wandered off to until he turns around from a bathroom sink and spots him in a shower stall, calling him over with a wave of his hand. Ritsu steps inside, ducking his head under the bar for the shower curtain

He almost startles when Shou reaches over and pulls the shower curtain closed with a flourish, leaving them enclosed in the shower stall, somehow still mysteriously lit by no lamp that Ritsu can see. He shoots Shou a questioning look, only to snort when Shou leans back against the shower wall, a hand over his heart and eyelashes fluttering.

“Why, Mister Kageyama,” he says, all false coquettishness, “Cornering a young girl like me alone in a place like this? How scandalous.”

He considers giving Shou the reaction he wants, a laugh and a shove on the shoulder and possibly a comment about exactly how classy making out in an IKEA shower stall is, but the reaction he’d gotten earlier was too good to resist playing along with the joke.

He shamelessly uses his height advantage when he steps into Shou’s space, one leg between Shou’s and a hand propped casually on the wall beside his head. He leans down so that their noses are almost touching, and says low, “Well with you standing here all gorgeous like this, how could I resist?”

It’s pathetic joke flirting, some cheesy disaster line out of every old black and white movie he’s ever watched with his mother, so he doesn’t quite expect it when Shou seems to freeze, eyes wide and locked onto Ritsu’s. It’s only for a few seconds, a barely noticeable pause before Shou’s howling with laughter as he pushes past him out of the shower, but Ritsu gets caught on it, on the hitch he thought he’d heard in Shou’s breath, on the way he feels oddly wired, like his skin is buzzing from the proximity, and what the fuck had just happened?

This scene, ladies and gentlemen, had me sold on the fic. Starting with how Shou had playfully dragged Ritsu into the display shower in an attempt to tease Ritsu, only to be surprised that Ritsu had played along because, according to Ritsu, the raven would usually just laugh and dismiss the joke as a joke.

You can literally see that’s where the subtle feelings come out, where their friendship suddenly moves a bit faster into something more. It’s a slowburn for a reason, because their relationship happens really slow, so it’s moments like these that makes you really warm inside.

We come to a near end to the fic from here, which includes a scene where Shou cooks and Ritsu has a wet dream that’s pretty brief tbh and nothing too explicit don’t worry. Then there’s some scenes where Ritsu’s doing school things and Shou’s being Shou in the kitchen and everywhere.

It slows to a stop after the iconic Shou and Ritsu flies scene, because we’re all suckers for Ritsu trusting Shou that he won’t drop him when they fly.

SO! You can pretty much get the idea of how the fic will end/go from there since the major arc scene has been settled (moving in together). And frankly, if Ravenesta was to stop the fic on chapter 9, I don’t think we’ll lose too much since the only thing we didn’t get is a conclusion to the slowburn.

If you’ve read up to here, thanks for indulging me I suppose. I mostly write little reviews for my own sake since I really talk too much and it’s very hard to collect my thoughts at times.

Is this a fic I would recommend? Most definitely yes, it’s lovely, it’s well written, it’s captivating. It is the embodiment of Ritshou’s romance, and I really wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

#mob psycho 100 #mp100 #kageyama ritsu #suzuki shou #ritshou #shouritsu #fanfic babbles

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mochi-rose · 5 years ago

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|| War of Hearts || Three.

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader x Jimin Description: Thinking too much can be a bad thing, especially if you end up getting turned on without your fuck buddy to get you off. Bad quickly turns worse when your ex texts you, and worse goes to shit when you decide to let your ex in when you're in such a state. After everything is said and done, you're left feeling more confused than before and you decide that wine and sleep will be your best friend tonight. Genre: Angst, smut. Word Count: 7.0k Warnings: Heavy dirty talk, derogatory name-calling, “Daddy” kink, spit play, HEAVY breath play, lots of hair pulling, sensory deprivation & overload (y’all, i went all-in), rough sex, emotional turmoil? Tags: @lunaticgurly, @legendaryangelmoneylawyer, @mrs-jeonjk *At any point in time, notify me to be added or removed from this list!* A/N: So I’m super sleep-deprived since I traveled across country and back in 4 days by driving and I have to get up early for my wisdom teeth surgery (which I’m terrified about), but goshdamnit, I’m gonna publish this before I’m doped up on drugs. Enjoy (and please leave me lovely feedback so I can be happy while I’m dying from this procedure)! | Playlist | Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 |

You’re currently curled up on the couch, staring at the ceiling. To say that you’re bored out of your mind is an understatement; however, an unidentified, hazy feeling stops you from getting up to do something. Your brain has been floating around to multiple topics, but somehow it always goes back to Jimin.

It’s only been about two weeks since the whole break up ordeal, but it seems longer. During the time, you and Jimin have been getting quite close, and now it’s unusual for you two to not see each other longer than two days. It all still feels weird to you, especially since you were against turning your one-time-deal into a regular thing in the beginning.

“Quit running.” Jimin’s hot breath hits your neck as he pins you to the wall in his hallway. You want to ask yourself how you got in this situation, but you know you’re the only one to blame.

“I’m sorry, I was under the influence. I made a mistake, and I wasn’t in my right mind.” You start spitting out the first thing that comes to mind to help you get out of this dilemma, but as soon as they come out, you feel guilty since you know that’s not entirely true.

“I’d say you were in your right mind. At least enough to badger me about safe sex.” Jimin retorts, and that makes you forget about trying to not look at his gorgeous face— at least enough to give him a shocked expression and a smack on the arm. “Jimin!”

He quickly laughs and backs away enough for you to breathe. A part of you is thankful since you can finally breathe without getting high from his intoxicating smell; however, you can’t seem to smother that small yearning that wants to pull him right back in again. “I’m just joking! I already told you, I’ve scheduled an appointment to get checked. I was very serious and in my right mind when I said I wanted there to be a next time. I hope you were too.”

A blush creeps upon your face, and you curse Jimin for being so honest about the way he feels. “I-… I want to, but…” you start to say; however, he quickly interrupts you.

“But you’re still scared, right?” You glance up at his understanding gaze before looking back to the floor and giving a sheepish nod. Without a second thought, he diminishes the space in between you two again as you feel one arm of his wrap around your waist tightly, and the other hand comes to hold your cheek. “I won’t do anything you feel uncomfortable with. And if I do, be vocal about it. I’ll stop immediately. We go at your pace, okay? If you want nothing to do with me, tell me.”

As his thumb begins to slowly caress its way down to your lips, you make eye contact with him, and you see a small shift in his eyes as they focus in on the way you unconsciously slide your tongue across your bottom lip and softly bite it. “If you want me to kiss you, say it.” You notice how his tone’s become guttural, and there’s suddenly neediness to it, and you can’t help but lean into him more, desperately wanting to see what’s next.

He leans down and softly bites your earlobe, making you arch your back and push your chest into him. “If you want me to touch you… say it.” He whispers into your ear, gliding his hand down, and ever so lightly tracing your curves around your waist until he gets to your thigh. Smoothly lifting your leg around his waist, his hand starts slowly travelling upward again, this time under the hem of your skirt. With his other arm still wrapped around your waist, he pulls your hips closer and grinds his hips into yours, making your head fall forward to rest on his shoulder.

Jimin’s hand reaches your hip and digs his fingernails into your skin. “If you want me to—,” he begins to say as he scratches down, but hesitates as his hand quickly goes back to your hip. You feel his thumb wipe across your skin where your underwear should be. He slides your skirt up over your bum to confirm that you, indeed, were not wearing any panties. A small needy groan leaves his mouth, and you feel a puff of hot air on your neck before he pulls back, looking at you with blown-out pupils. “Fuck…” is all he could say before you leap up and he carries you back in his room.

A sigh leaves your lips as you think back to the first time the both of you saw each other after the first encounter. “Well that didn’t last long,” you mumble, commenting about your fleeting negative feelings you once had.

As you flip over onto your side, you notice how thinking back to the two of you makes you start feeling hot and you suddenly can’t seem to stop another flashback from popping up in your mind.

“By the way, I’m sorry you only got to come once during our first time together,” Jimin says as he sets you down on his bed and crawls on top of you.

You wrap your arms around his neck and gently grapple fistfuls of his smooth, black hair, beginning to softly play with it. Giggling, your eyes twinkle in amusement as you respond, “don’t be sorry. Besides, I was too focused on making you feel good to care”.

You notice the tiniest movement of him pulling back, and his eyebrows scrunch together. Afraid you said something weird, you ask him what’s wrong; however, he quickly recovers, and a bright smile graces his face. “Nothing, you just surprised me, that’s all.”

“How so?”

“Well, for starters, I don’t really think I’ve had a girl solely focus on making me feel good,” Jimin states and, this time, you raise your eyebrows in shock. “I don’t know if they do it intentionally or not, but it’s just usually always been vice versa.”

You don’t know why, but a small part of your heart squeezes at the thought that you might have been different from the other girls; however, you quickly try to smother that feeling down, mentally yelling at yourself that it doesn’t matter anyway. Before you can get into an internal argument with yourself, Jimin goes to slide your shirt up and starts peppering your lower stomach with unhurried kisses. As he gets to the hemline of your skirt, he looks back up at you with a hungry gaze and speaks in a confident, breathy tone, “don’t worry, this time you’ll be begging me to stop because you can’t take it anymore”.

Feeling heat rush to both your cheeks and your lower parts, you groan as you grab your phone quickly and pull up Jimin’s contact. You’ve been trying not to be the first one to reach out to him since a part of you is still getting used to the whole ‘friends with benefits’ idea; however, this time you’re at your breaking point.

This is the longest you haven’t seen him, which has been four days, and quite frankly, you’re desperate. He’s been busy on his end, and you don’t blame him for that in any way, but you know he should be getting his results back soon and the thought of you guys finally getting to have sex without a condom is leaving you feeling needy.

You: Hiya, how has your day been? I, uh, just was.. ya know, wondering if maybe you’re… free?

You reread the text you just sent and huff at your idiocy. Wow, _____, could you try to not make it sound so much like you need someone to talk to? Not. Cool.

You: Like, idk, you feel like coming over?

Again, you read the text that you sent too quickly and curse your trigger fingers for sending it faster than you can really think about how it sounds. Fuck this shit.

You: Look, I’m horny. And I want you to fuck me. Come over.

Does pushing yourself too far make you crudely honest, maybe, but you think that’s just something you’ll have to live with as you toss your phone aside and give him a chance to respond as you get up to get a glass of water. You run a hand through your hair and take a big sigh, maybe I’m too thirsty…heh, no pun intended. But seriously, what the hell is wrong with me?

While downing your glass, you have a mental conversation with yourself discussing what is wrong with you for acting like this, but as you finish drinking and put your cup in the sink, you decide ‘to hell with it; out of sight, out of mind’, and move on.

Leisurely walking back to the couch, you notice your screen glows to let you know you got a text, so you saunter back faster than you’d like to admit, eager to see Jimin’s response. Reading the new message, your heart starts beating uncontrollably, and your hands start shaking; however, not in a good way.

That Guy: _____. Talk to me. That Guy: At least hear me out. That Guy: I need to talk to you. That Guy: Please?

You sigh and run an aggravated hand through your hair, wondering what to do. Your mind flashes back to how Jimin told you to straight-up ignore him; in fact, he was pretty adamant about it.

Jimin rolls off of you as he plunks down beside you. You turn your head to him, smiling, and are just about to compliment on how great the sex was when your phone goes off. You roll over and grab your phone, curious as to who’s texting you at this time.

That Guy: _____, it’s been a week. Can we please talk?

You open the text, and your thumbs hover over the keyboard, planning on responding but not knowing what to say when Jimin wraps his arm around your waist and peaks over your shoulder. “‘That guy’? Who is that?”

“Jungkook.”

You swear you feel a moment where Jimin tenses around you; however, it’s gone before you can even think more about it. “What does he want?” Jimin asks while starting to pepper soft kisses on your neck.

You roll your eyes and respond, “to talk, like always”. At this, Jimin spins you around to where you’re on your back and facing him while he hovers over you. “So he texts you a lot still?” An inquisitive eyebrow is raised on his face, and you feel the need to explain yourself for some unknown reason. “Yeah. But I haven’t texted back yet. I don’t know what to say.”

“There’s nothing to say. Just don’t respond.”

“Yeah, but I dunno… I kind of feel bad for doing that. Maybe. I don’t even know…” You mutter, glancing back at your phone as thumbs still hover over the keys. Jimin tilts his head to the side for a moment and looks at you, almost like he’s trying to analyse what you’re thinking. Swiftly, he gets back on top of you and gently pins down your wrists. You instinctively tighten your hand around your phone, but Jimin’s thumb slowly slides under the phone. His eyes seem to send you a message to kindly do what he says, and you can’t help but loosen the grip on your phone.

“He broke up with you; you don’t owe him anything. You shouldn’t worry about him anymore; in fact, there’s no reason to talk at all,” Jimin says in a very persuading, yet gentle manner, and you note how it’s not fair because you know he’s going to win when he sounds so genuine. He takes your phone and sets it back on the bedside table before turning his attention back to you. “Anyway, let’s go another round. I’m almost ready,” he says once more as he begins to slide down to your nether regions. As your mind notices he’s eating you out even more passionately than before, you begin to forget what you were even talking about a few moments ago.

“Ignore him. Just ignore him, _____. You’d do good to listen to Jimin’s voice of reasoning,” you speak to yourself, trying to remember all of the reasons why you shouldn’t respond to Jungkook. You toss your phone back on the couch before walking away and beginning to pace. “Don’t do it. You’re only opening up Pandora’s box if you do.”

Your phone goes off again making you stop mid-pace once more. Looking over at your phone as if you’ve just seen a ghost, you begin to crack your knuckles, trying to stay strong.

Jeez, you’re acting as if he’s some drug that you haven’t had in years and suddenly it’s floating right in front of your face. Don’t be weak, he’s just a guy… that you spent two years with and planned on spending more… that you. CAN. GET. OVER! Come on, _____!

“But.. let’s be real. You’re alone… you’re in the mood.. and Jimin is nowhere to be seen or heard, and he’s not answering any of your texts…” You mutter and go back to pacing, except this time you swear you’re about to go mental. You run another hand through your hair, trying to calm your stress levels before glancing back at your phone from the corner of your eye. Can you blame a girl?

“Oh, fuck it…” You hiss before stomping over and fumbling for your phone. With lightning speed, your thumbs tap the screen to type out a message, and it’s a wonder they don’t get tangled together. You press the send button and then try to calm yourself from how fast your heart is racing.

You: What’s there to talk about?

Expecting it’ll be a while for him to respond, you lock the screen right as he sends an immediate response back. Biting your lip, you notice how it’s taking everything in your power not to start hyperventilating at this moment.

That Guy: Actually, I’m on a run right now, so I’m only a few minutes from you. Can I stop by? That Guy: Please?

Oh, ____, you are SO going to regret this, you think as you shake your head and bite down harder. You wince from the pain, but a quick, nagging thought says maybe you deserve that for being so stupid right now.

You: Fine. You: But make it quick.

You look around the place to make sure it’s tidy before you quickly walk into the bathroom and face the mirror. Doing a once-over, you make sure you, yourself, look nice enough for company and make eye contact with your reflection. “Why the hell am I doing this…” You mumble to yourself. Because you’re in the mood and you’re desperate, you stupid girl, your conscience answers condescendingly. You hear the frightening knock and do one last look before sighing and walking out to go answer the door.

“Jung—“ You swing the door open quickly to prove you’re not going to take any of his shit; however, the moment you see him, all bets are off. In front of your doorstep is a very sweaty, and very hot, Jungkook standing there shirtless with all of his tense muscles on display for you to see. Oh, this is not helping, you think as you shame yourself because you know your face is showing just how flabbergasted you are, yet there’s no way you can control it.

You swallow quickly and shift to your other foot to try and get yourself to stop focusing on the fact Jungkook’s shirtless right now. If Jungkook knows you’re checking him out right now, which you’re sure he does, he doesn’t show it. In fact, surprisingly, he looks rather serious as he blurts out the reason why he’s here, getting straight to the point. “I can’t get you out of my mind, and I swear, I’ve tried. I think about you all the time.”

You take a step back, holding onto the door and trying to regain your balance since he’s making your mind spin out of control. Analysing his face, you try and find some sort of guilt or sign to see if he’s lying or not; however, if he is, you sure can’t tell. Giving him one last glance, you swiftly turn around and walk in the bathroom to grab a towel before going back.

“Wipe yourself off, you’re drenched.” You softly sass as you throw the towel at his face. He grabs it with a small look of surprise, and you know that the shock he feels isn’t from the towel-throwing action, but from your acceptance of his presence. Just before you turn your back to walk towards the couch, you catch him throw a lopsided smirk at you as he shuts the door behind him. Have I just let the devil into my home?

Jungkook plops down next to you, and you’re incredibly hyper-aware of how your legs make contact with each other. He leans back with ease and supports his head by propping his elbow on the back of the couch. You know he’s doing this on purpose, presenting himself as if to taunt you ‘here I am in all of my stupidly-attractive glory’; you know it’s a fucking trap, and yet, here you are, struggling to swallow from the scene in front of you. “You need to put on a shirt,” you mumble, quickly casting your eyes downwards to pick at your fingers.

“Well, I can’t exactly fit into one of yours, now can I?” He says jokingly while giving you a lopsided grin and tilting his head to the side. You softly pout and rack your mind to try and remember if you have anything that would fit him; unfortunately, your words are tumbling out faster than your brain can keep up, and you forget who you’re talking to for a minute.

“You can wear one of Ji—.”

The words get caught in your throat as you quickly clamp your mouth shut. Fuck, fuck, fuck! I did not just almost say ‘Jimin’, you scold yourself a thousand times mentally as you wish a hole would swallow you right up. Swiftly, you glance up to see Jungkook’s eyebrows furrow together, and you can tell he’s confused as to what you could possibly mean. The silence slowly starts to gnaw at you, and the longer it grows, the more you feel like you’re starting to sweat as you watch the emotions change on his face and his jaw gets tenser. Just when you think you’re going to have a confrontation, he just sighs and looks you up and down.

“You look good… like really good,” he mumbles out the end; however, you can still hear him clearly. The petty conscience in your brain throws out the thought ‘it must be because I’m not yours anymore’, but you swallow your spite down and opt on trying to focus on Jungkook. As you watch his tongue quickly dart out to pull his bottom lip in and bite down softly, you quickly come to regret your choice because suddenly you’re blushing and finding it hard to meet his eye yet again. You’re in such a state, you don’t even notice that you’re pressing your thighs together unconsciously to seek release; however, Jungkook certainly does.

He takes this chance to slide closer, now eliminating any space between the both of you. His arm is behind you resting on the back of the couch while his other hand moves towards you. You notice there’s a moment of hesitance, but it’s such a small one that you wonder if your mind is just playing tricks on you. Gently, he lays his hand on top of your thigh, and you can smell his minty breath softly hit your cheek as he hovers over you. You haven’t been this close to him, mentally or physically, in months, yet somehow you’re struggling terribly to gain back control over your own body. “W-what do you want?” You try to sound firm and unyielding; however, neither of you miss the stutter in your voice.

“A second chance,” he breathes before closing in on your neck. You feel him lightly nip at your neck and your breath hitches in your throat. You wish you could do something, throw him away or tug him closer, you don’t know nor care which, just something damnit, but your body and mind aren’t synched, and so you end up not moving at all.

His hand has now slid your oversized sweater down to expose your shoulder, and he’s slowly kissing and licking at your soft skin. As you feel his other hand slide up your thigh agonisingly slow, you realise your body has betrayed you by opening up your legs in the slightest. Your mind is screaming at your body, yelling for it to listen, yet, it seems your body is a fucking stubborn traitor. As if noticing your dilemma, Jungkook speaks up.

“If you say stop, I’m on the other side of the couch. You know I’ll stop if you don’t want this.” You hear him say, and somewhere in your mind, you feel like that should give you the strength to stop all of this. You know you need to send him on his way and not talk to him, just like Jimin told you to; however, it seems some part of you wants the exact opposite. Your mind is hazy, and your brain is beginning to hurt from thinking so much, so… fuck it.

In a blink of an eye, you have your hands twisted and entangled into his hair and knocking the breath from you by slamming your lips to his. You’re hungry, no, starving for his touch. You’ve been craving it for so long that it seems like something in you just snapped.

It genuinely surprises you when Jungkook responds with just as much vigour as he quickly hovers over you to yank your sweater off. His mouth greedily bites down on the skin around your chest as the both of you claw your back, racing to take off your bra. You both seem like absolute animals, and the thought only solidifies when you hear him growl as he snatches your shorts and thong off.

“Condom,” you rasp as you start to tug his grey sweatpants down. Hurriedly, he reaches into his pocket to pull out his wallet before tugging one out. You’re sure you would make some snide comment about keeping them in his wallet, but your hormones are too far gone for you to focus on anything but getting fucked.

Wasting no time, he pumps himself a few times before quickly rolling the condom on. He pulls you onto his lap, making you straddle him before you notice he grips your hips as if he’s about to lift you up. “Your bedroom’s still the one to the left, right?” He asks, and it takes a minute for you to actually process what he’s asking.

You’re about to sass him that it’s only been two weeks since you’ve broken up so, of course, it’s still in the same room; however, a thought hits you like a ton of bricks. You and Jimin have seen each other so much, he’s left multiple pieces of clothing in your bedroom. You’re not cheating since you and Jungkook aren’t together, and you both know the two of you are sleeping around, so you don’t understand why it would be a problem if he saw it; however, something in you still doesn’t want him to find out its actually Jimin you’ve been sleeping with.

“I can’t wait; I need you— God— just fuck me here.” You quickly respond, slamming your lips to his once again as you sink lower onto his hips to emphasis you aren’t going anywhere. It seems to work because he leans back, letting his eyes roam your hovering body as he rubs hard circles into your hips.

One of his hands slip down to where you need him the most, and as he runs his middle and ring finger through your folds, he lets out a needy groan before pulling his hand back up in front of the two of you. He looks from his hand to you, and you can see just how blown out his eyes look as he wriggles his fingers to show just how needy you are. “Holy fuck, _____, just how long were you horny for? You’re absolutely dripping.” Jungkook grunts before making eye contact with you and sticking his fingers in his mouth, making sure you watch as he sucks your arousal clean from his fingers.

“Fuck, I can’t wait— please. I need, oh fuck, I need—“You struggle to get yourself together to at least say something; however, Jungkook firmly grabs your hips and thrusts fully into you before you can finish. Your eyesight turns bleary, and you cry out at the sudden feeling of being full, but it feels so good, you can’t help but try and move your hips for more.

“Me. You need me.” Jungkook groans as his hands help set and keep pace for your hips to move on top of him. “You need me to make you feel good like the needy bitch you are, am I right? Is that why you actually responded to my texts for once? Hm?”

You can only moan as he tells you filthy things and you feel the imaginary knot in your stomach begin to form already. It’s been so, so, long since you’ve had sex with him; however, both of you still move together as if it’s only been days. That’s one of the things that you always loved about him, the chemistry in bed between the two of you was constantly hot, and he’s always known your body so well; it’s infuriating to know your body still thinks it belongs to him.

“Ah—I can feel you getting tighter, but you’re only going to come when I tell you to, right, baby? Because you’re still such a good little slut for me?” You mewl at his words, and even though you feel the tight, burning cramp in your hips, you keep pushing forward, trying to please him.

He sits up, wrapping his arms completely around your waist and holding on tight to not let go. You’re sure his grip is going to leave bruises, but even if it does, you don’t care at this point. His head dips down to bring a nipple into his mouth, and you thread your fingers into his hair, pulling him in even more. Your hot bodies are pressed together, and the closeness helps edge you nearer, feeling him thrust deeper inside. Your hands are roaming everywhere, and as you rake your nails harshly down his well-defined abs, you hear him groan into your skin, and there’s a quick, rough shove into you that makes your hips tingle. Without thinking, you moan out Jungkook’s name; however, a growl rips from his throat, and you realise the mistake you made all too late.

In a blink of an eye, he lifts you off of him and twirls you around to face the couch. You try to complain at the sudden feeling of being empty, but he pushes you forward, and your knees fall onto the cushions. He grapples onto your hips roughly as he enters you again and you start to moan at the feeling but are quickly cut off when his other hand grabs your hair and yanks it back so your throat’s at an awkward angle and exposed. You feel his hot breath hit the side of your face as he murmurs into your skin, “It’s only been a few weeks, and you’ve already forgotten my name, darling?”

The spitefulness and pettiness that you tried to swallow down earlier surges inside of you once again as a smirk spreads upon your face. “A few weeks? Huh, try a few months,” you scoff, trying your best to move your head to the side to see a better view of him; however, the tight grip he has on your hair doesn’t let you go far, “We stopped fucking long before we broke up, Jungkook.”

You see his infamous tongue-in-cheek move that you know he does when he’s getting irritated, and you just hate to admit that you’re the one getting under his skin. “I guess—ngh— that may be true; however, I still remember just how bratty you are,” Jungkook grunts into your ear before pounding into you sharply again, “and I still remember how to tame you”. With each sentence, his hips slam into yours deeper and harder, making you fall onto the couch’s back for support.

The hand that was once around your waist slithers up and grasps your neck, tightening until you’re barely getting any air supply, and slowly, your senses start to numb as your lips tingle, and the pressure in your ears build up. Jungkook releases his hold on your hair and quickly shoves his middle and ring finger down your throat as far back as it will go. You sputter and lightly gag as you try and rush to breathe; however, with his vice grip on your airway, it’s almost impossible.

His thrusts are agonisingly slow, and he makes sure you can feel every time he slips out before ramming back into you. His pace is deliberate, taking his sweet time to let you know your release is in his hands; however, he’s unyielding at how rough he’s with you. He wants you to know he’s there; he’s the one fucking you right here and now. He continues fingering your mouth, and you can feel the drool drip down and fall on your chest. You try and swallow to lessen how messy you must look, but he quickly catches on and shoves his fingers down onto your tongue, not allowing you to do so. Your nostrils flare, desperately trying to get more air into your lungs as a sound of pleasure slips out from your mouth.

“God, baby, look how filthy you are. You’re getting so dirty, yet you love every minute of it. You hear those sloppy, slick sounds coming from your pussy? That’s you needing me.” There’s something animalistic in the tone Jungkook is using, and you haven’t heard it in so long that you swear you’re about to come if he keeps speaking to you like that.

Once his hand is completely covered in your spit, he removes it from your mouth before putting the two fingers on your clit, making you moan loud enough to worry if your neighbours two doors down could hear. The mixed feeling between the heat of his cock inside you and the chill of his spit-covered fingers on your clit makes your back arch in indescribable pleasure as you listen to the sloshing from Jungkook rubbing you. The combination of your arousal and slobber makes you soaking wet, and you know there’s no way you’re not dripping on the couch; however, you’re too far gone to care.

You notice the grip on your throat loosens by just the slightest— not enough to stop the blood pounding in your ears, but enough to breathe in a small amount of oxygen to use this opportunity to beg. “Please, please! Shit, I’m so close. Please, let me come,” the words are rolling right off your lips without you even having to think about it, you so desperately need this, and you’ll be damned if Jungkook refuses you.

Quickly, the clutch on your throat tightens again, cutting off any further words. His fingers that were once going at a moderate pace are now going as fast as he possibly can, flicking your clit and making you cry out as your heart races in ecstasy. Your knees spread out further to try and allow him more access, making you sink down and Jungkook quickly adjusts, his body in tune with yours. The pressure in your ears is at a maximum, and your lips are buzzing from the lack of oxygen. All senses are about to be deprived, and if it were anyone but Jungkook, you’d be scared to death; however, you trust him—more than you’d like to admit— during rough sex like this.

Your house is filled with nothing but vile sounds of wetness, skin slapping, Jungkook’s grunts, your extremely loud moaning. If anyone were to walk by, they’d think this was a whore house, yet, you’d have no problem with that at this point. Your voice is raspy from all of your cries, and once more, Jungkook leans in until his tongue is licking the shell of your ear before biting down on it.

“Say it. What’s my name, baby? God, no one but you can use it—fuck—, just say it, _____. Say it, and I swear you can come.” This time it’s Jungkook’s turn to plead in your ear. You almost don’t hear him from him depriving your senses; however, you can tell the needy tone in his voice, and it sparks an ignition inside of you. He’s teetering, on the verge of whimpering, and he wants this just as bad, if not more.

“Daddy! Oh fuck, Daddy!” You scream out his former name you used to call him in bed, no longer able to contain yourself, and hearing what you said, he’s right there with you. He lets go of your neck and allows the oxygen to come rushing back inside your lungs, overloading all of your senses. Suddenly, you’re hypersensitive to his cock pounding into you and his fingers playing with your clit, the impact of your skin touching and his breath hitting your skin; it all overwhelms you enough to be your final push to orgasm.

“Fuck, you’re such a good girl for Daddy— holy fuck, you’re so tight; it’s throbbing, ngh, shit!” Jungkook grunts loudly, swiftly moving up his hand that was once around your neck to grapple your hair once again. Your scalp stings in pain, but your high overrides it and makes it pleasurable.

You can feel his dick twitch from inside of you, and you know he’s close to coming. Still flicking his hand to get you off, he pulls your hair a little tighter, and you reach back to grab his ass and pull him back into you, this time deeper than he’s been. It’s enough to send him over the edge, all of his strength and weight colliding into you and making you fall onto the couch’s back. He whines out your name before biting down hard on your shoulder as he finishes riding off his high.

You have a quick thought, wondering if the bite will mark since it feels like it’s broken skin, but as he slides out of you, the question’s suddenly lost. You fall to the side, completely exhausted, and being mindful of the wet spot on the couch. Your eyes glide over to the beauty that’s still hovering in the same place, his arm supporting all of his weight and he’s heavily panting, looking completely spent. He swallows, lets out an exhale, and rakes his fingers through his sweaty hair before giving you a glance.

Jungkook swiftly gets up and reaches for the towel you threw at him earlier while sliding off his condom. He goes into the kitchen and discards it before wetting the cloth and coming back to you. Before you can ask what’s he doing, he speaks “spread your legs” and begins to wipe you down.

After he’s done cleaning you, he crashes down next to you and swings an arm around your head. Still feeling the after-buzz, you don’t think much as you lean into him and readjust your head, so he’s supporting it. He starts playing with your hair lazily, and you giggle. “Thanks for the aftercare.”

“Mm,” is all he responds, continuing his action while you both lay together, silently catching your breath. “I’m surprised you didn’t freak out when I went right in to choke you and turned rough,” Jungkook randomly notes.

You turn your head slightly until both of you are making eye contact. Making sure your face shows how serious you are, you softly respond. “You’re one of the only people that knows me so well sexually. I spent two years with you.”

Thinking Jungkook would look away from the amount of honesty you’re giving him, it genuinely surprises you when he looks you dead in the eye, returning your blow with his own words. “Spend more with me.”

Your heart clenches in emotional pain and turbulent confusion, and you can’t help but turn away, not wanting to look at him anymore. His words make the reality come crashing back down on you as you’re left realising you just had sex with your ex-boyfriend, Jungkook, when you’re desperately trying to get over him. You don’t know what makes you decide to ask, but whatever it is, it’s too late to stop it as the words are already tumbling out of your mouth. “Are you seeing anyone?” Nicee…Good job on sounding like you don’t care.. not.

You can feel his body go rigid, and his hand movements of playing with your hair come to a stop. You quietly sigh, knowing he took it the way you didn’t want him to take it, so you quickly clarify. “I know you’re sleeping around, Jungkook. Hell, I am too,” you try and assure him, “I just want to know if you’re seeing or talking to anyone in particular.” You quickly add the thought, technically I’m only ‘seeing’ Jimin, but Jungkook sure as hell doesn’t have to know that.

“Oh, then no, not really,” Jungkook responds, easing up slightly before turning the tables back to you. “Who are you sleeping with?”

This time, it’s your turn to close up and try and find an out to this. You turn to look in Jungkook’s eyes, trying to read his facial expressions to see if he’s just lightly continuing the conversation; however, he’s as serious as can be. There’s a moment of silent hesitance before speaking up in a slightly-joking tone, “that’s only ‘boyfriend-candidate’ perks”.

You sit up, needing to get as far away as you can from him and quickly pick up your sweater. “How do I upgrade?” Jungkook responds, sitting up to follow you with the same serious look on his face. You hurriedly shove the sweater over your head and stand up to hover over him, not liking the mental disadvantage of being the same level as him. “It’s none of your business.”

Jungkook sighs, letting the disappointment visibly show on his face as he gets up and puts his pants back on. As he quickly slides on his shoes and tidies his hair, you make a comment about how it’s getting late to try and get him to the door quicker. He nods, noting how he should get going now, yet his feet trudge to the door slower than you’d like.

As you open the door for him and he steps out, he turns back to you once more to open his stupidly-perfect mouth. “Think about us?” He breathes out, and you can see the pleading look swimming in his eye. All you can do is sigh, not feeling the fight enough to try and say anything snarky, so instead, you just respond “okay” before closing the door.

You make sure Jungkook walks off your property completely before your knees give out and you sink to the floor. “What am I doing?!” You scream aloud, your tone full of frustration as you rake your fingers through your hair. You’re confused and so conflicted, it feels like the world is spinning faster than you can handle.

Before your mind can spiral out of control, your phone ‘dings’ letting you know you’ve gotten a text. Pulling yourself together, you walk over to grab it and quickly read the screen, tsking.

Jimin: Got my results back, I’m clean~ Jimin: -photo attached- Jimin: I’m so sorry, I was busy at work >.< but I’m finally free! Jimin: You still in the mood? I can swing by

You should be ecstatic that you can finally fuck bareback with him; however, your mind’s shut down from all the events, and you’re definitely not in the mood now.

You: sorry, but not tonight. You: i’m not feeling too good anymore so i’m going to sleep

Locking your phone, you head to the kitchen and open the fridge, dying of thirst. You have various different fruit juices and milk; however, your eyes immediately fall to the bottle of unopened Moscato. Flashbacks to the night of you and Jungkook flood your mind, but your mood is already down, so the memories couldn’t possibly make it worse; in fact, your sour state of mind is ready to fight anything, especially the god-forbidden flashbacks.

“Fuck it,” you mutter angrily, grabbing the whole bottle and opening it. Your eyes glance back at the cabinet that stores the glasses; however, you just jeer at it as you take a swig from the whole bottle, planning on drinking the entire thing.

Walking back into your bedroom, your eyesight falls to Jimin’s clothing that’s on the floor, and it makes you check your phone, wondering if he even responded.

Jimin: That’s totally fine! I hope you feel better soon~ Jimin: I’ll check up with you tomorrow, let me know if you need anything <3

You know you shouldn’t blame things on Jimin, and you know it’s not his fault deep down; however, you’re tired and angry, and you don’t want to take responsibility for your own actions, so you choose to blame him anyway.

“Fuck you, Jimin. Why are you so good to me?” You angrily exclaim to no one before taking another hateful swig of the sweet wine. “Why couldn’t you respond sooner, damnit. Then maybe I wouldn’t have done this, and maybe I wouldn’t be so fucking confused. Ugh. I hate men and I hate fate.”

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nothingeverlost · 5 years ago

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Fic: Things Half in Shadows (14/14)

Fandom: Once Upon a Time

Pairings: Gold/Belle (eventually) with side pairings that probably include Graham/Bay, Archie/Emma and others.

Summary: The first thing you learn, back in Psych 101, is that you never get emotionally involved with a patient. For 25 years Dr. Gold hasn’t had a problem walking that fine line. Something changes, though, when he meets Belle French. AU

Author’s Note: I can’t begin to express what this fic and the people who read it have meant to me. Thank you all. This is the last chapter. I chose to leave it here and pick it up again in a sequel. The second half is relationship-centric and will begin with Belle leaving Storybrooke.

TRIGGER WARNING: Indirect mentions of abuse and sexual assault

Chapter 14 - Small Steps

There was a book on the table next to her customary cup of tea. The cover was free of words, only a pattern of roses that looked like an old bit of wallpaper.

“A journal?” she guessed. She’d never kept a diary before and felt a flutter in her stomach when she remembered the last time her doctor had asked her to write anything. Eight words and everything had changed. For the better, maybe, someday, but nothing had ever hurt so much. She hadn’t had the numbness to shield her. She would try, though, if he asked.

“While that’s never a bad idea that’s not my intent today. It is for writing but I don’t want you to write about yourself.”

“Who should I be writing about?” She knew he wouldn’t ask her to write about her father.

“You read a lot of stories, Belle. It’s a comfort to step into the world someone else created, to attend a ball with Elizabeth Darcy or to push the Dread Pirate Roberts down a hill. I want to see you try writing a story with your own words. It can be as simple or as complex as you like.” From his pocket he took a pen, resting it on top of the book.

“That’s it? Just write something?” She hadn’t written anything since a creative writing class she took her first semester in college. She couldn’t remember if she’d liked it or not.

“Anything you want. When you’re done you can show it to anyone you want or you can keep it to yourself. You can show it to me, but only if that’s what you want.” He took a sip of his tea. Belle remembered her own cup and took a sip, and a bite of the coffee cake he’d brought in that morning. She liked the blueberries. “What’s the first story you remember as a child?”

“Cinderella.” She was distracted by the book, picking it up and running her fingers over the lightly textured cover before opening it up. The pages were blank. So much empty space; it seemed lonely without words. “Not the Disney one; it was a pop-up book. There was this page with all the stairs and in the middle the glass slipper. I remember running my fingers up and down the stairs, pretending I’d lost my shoe. One page had the carriage and you could open the door and look inside. I wanted to shrink so I could fit inside, just for a little while. It was such a pretty little carriage.”

“Perhaps you can tell the story of a little girl who did manage to shrink,” he suggested. “When my son was wee there was a story he loved about a family that lived in the walls of a house.”

“I loved Thumbelina. My mama would watch the movie with me; it was the first VHS I remember owning. We liked to sing the songs together.” They would cuddle under a blanket and share a bowl of popcorn that they’d made together on the stove. Her mama loved to sing. She’d almost forgotten how she’d sung when she was washing the dishes, or combing her hair, and always at bedtime. “I don’t remember anything about the movie except that she was little and there was singing.”

“I’m sure we could find a copy, sometime.” He scribbled a note on a piece of paper. It was strange, most psychiatrists she had seen wrote a lot. Some seemed to barely look at her, they were so busy writing about what she said. Her doctor rarely wrote more than a few sentences and she always got the feeling that it was making sure he remembered things rather than analyzing her. “It sounds like a memory worth holding onto.”

“I think it is.” It hurt to think about her mama; maybe it always would. But it made her feel warm, too, to remember the way they had sung together. Maybe getting better meant that the warm was just as strong as the hurt. She took another bite of her coffee cake and waited for questions about her mama that didn’t come. Her doctor turned back to the subject of stories for the rest of her session.

Belle’s entrance to the art room was blocked by the sprawled form of Jefferson on the floor, arms and legs both spread eagle. She held her new book to her chest and looked down at him, wondering if she needed to go back and get help. His eyes were open, though, and she couldn’t see anything that looked like danger.

“Don’t mind him, he’s just being a drama queen.” August leaned against the back of a chair nearby. “Even more so than usual.”

“I’m bor-ed. Bored. B-b-b-bored.”

“I’m starting to get the idea that Jefferson’s bored. Anyone else getting that feeling?” Ruby was using the art scissors to trim bits of her hair.

“Does this place have a yelp? I’m giving them one star. Can I do no stars? I’m going to do that. The food is pedestrian, the entertainment is abysmal, and I’m sure there’s beds of nails that are more comfortable than what passes for accommodation here.”

“Fortunately there’s always the chance that a patient will provide entertainment,” Ruby said pointedly.

“You call this entertaining?” August rolled his eyes.

“Do you think they might let us have a picnic?” Belle offered tentatively. They’d had sunny afternoons the last couple of days.

“A party.” Jefferson sat up. “Rabbit, you’re brilliant.”

“Christmas is over.” From the corner of the room a small sad voice piped up. Astrid was working on something involving glue and a lot of glitter.

“Anyone have a birthday coming up?” Jefferson asked hopefully.

“Mine was last month.” Mary Margaret was the first to pop Jefferson’s bubble. Belle just shook her head. No one had mentioned holidays or birthdays since she’d arrived, almost as if time was standing still. Maybe that’s what they all hoped, that time was still and they would be able to just slip into their lives when they returned home. If they returned.

“This is perfect. Bake the cake and hire the clowns, we’re having a birthday party.” Jefferson shot up so fast it was hard to tell how he’d gotten to his feet.

“No on has a birthday until June, sweetie,” Ruby reminded him.

“Please tell me you’re not serious about clowns.” August crossed his arms. “That’s not funny.”

“If it’s no one’s birthday then it’s everyone’s unbirthday. What’s better than an unbirthday party?” He raced around the room, pulling fake flowers and ribbons from bins, stopping behind Astrid’s chair to lean down low. “More glitter, little mouse. We need more sparkle.”

“This is going to be interesting.” Ella picked up the flower that had landed in her lap.

“That’s one word for it,” August commented, pointedly ignoring the ribbons that had landed on his shoulder. “Not the word I’d pick, though.”

“Have you ever read any fairy tales?” Belle threw a pea into the lake, a little farther from the shore this time. The ducklings were getting bigger now, and Graham said that they needed to work a little for their food.

“Maybe when I was a kid. I don’t remember, really.” They reached for a pea at the same time, their fingers touching. Belle hardly thought about it, or the fact that only a few weeks ago it would have startled her.

“I was rereading some yesterday.” She had hoped they would inspire her own idea for a story. “They’re very black and white. Stepmothers are always evil. The princess is always good and pure. Fairy godmothers will always help. Wolves can’t be trusted.”

“A lot of people don’t understand about wolves. They’re nobel.” Graham tossed another pea into the water, a little farther from the ducks. One of the ducklings dove to get it and came up, shaking out its feathers.

“Maybe it’s easier to pretend that the scary things are so simple. As easy to see as a wolf in pajamas.” Fairytales never taught you to be scared of the people that said they loved you; at least none that she’d found.

“Wolf wouldn’t be happy wearing anyone’s pajamas, but he does like sleeping bags. I had to buy one for him or I’d never get any sleep when we go out. He gets in and curls up until all you can see is his nose. He has to carry it, though, if he wants it.” The last of the peas were gone. Graham opened the other bag he’d brought and set out two white chocolate cranberry cookies.

“He carries his sleeping bag?” Graham had mentioned camping, once. Belle had never had a pet, but didn’t imagine that was something they usually did.

“It clips onto his harness. He’s always excited when I put it on because he knows we’ll sleep outdoors. Besides, I carry food for both of us, it’s only fair he carries his own bedding.” Graham took a bite of one of the cookies and pushed the other one a little closer to her. “Somehow I ended up with an extra if you want one.”

“Thank you.” Nurse Whale had mentioned she was up seven pounds and had been pleased when he added the note to her file. Someday maybe she could meet her doctor’s son and thank him for all the muffins and cookies. “Does Wolf have to carry his own tent too?”

“We don’t use a tent. Just a sleeping bag apiece and a campfire. Can’t see the stars in a tent, and they tell a different story every night.” it was midday but still Graham looked up at the sky as if he could see the stars.

“What happens if it rains?”

“We get wet.” Graham shrugged. “If it’s a heavy storm we find a shelter. But look at the ducklings, they love to get wet. A lot of animals do. There’s nothing harmful in a little rain, and afterwards everything smells new.’

“I’ve never been camping.” She and her mama used to make tents out of sheets and imagine they were camping. They made s’mores in the oven and ate them sitting around a flashlight. She’d mentioned camping to her papa once and he’d taken her to a resort that summer in upstate New York. They’d served a chocolate mousse topped with meringue and graham cracker and called it a s’more. Her papa had called her princess and gifted her with her first bikini. She’d ‘lost’ it after the second day, and was glad they never went back.

“There’s berries and mushrooms growing on the other side of the lake, at the edge of the woods. It’s not camping but we could go for a walk,” he suggested, finishing his cookie.

“Are you sure it’s alright?” She’d never walked past the edge of the lake.

“As long as you stay with me.”

By the time they returned from their walk Belle had almost forgotten about fairytales. Graham had shown her the signs of edible mushrooms, but cautioned her not to eat any without him there. He’d pointed out a nest in a branch that still held eggs. There was a bush full of berries that might make a good cookie. Her questions had been tentative at first but he’d answered them all, speaking more than he usually did. She was eager to learn more and he walked with her to the library to point out a few books they had about local flora and fauna. Caught up in the books she almost didn’t notice someone joining them in the library.

“Belle.” Gaston had his hands in his pockets, his height seeming so much taller than she remembered. “Can we talk?”

“Visitor’s hours are Saturday. This isn’t a good time.” Graham took two steps to his right, coming between her and the doorway.

“You’re not Belle, so I wasn’t talking to you. I was talking to my fiance.” Gaston was less forceful than usual, but she knew that he wouldn’t leave.

“It’s okay, Graham.” She didn’t know what he wanted, but it was usually quicker to give it to him than argue. Logic wasn’t Gaston’s strongest suit. “He’s driven a long way to be here. We can talk.”

“You heard her. I’m sure there’s someone else in this place that needs your attention.” Gaston sat on one of the sofas, his feet on the table. Belle was reminded of his home office, though the Storybrooke library didn’t have any animal heads mounted on the walls.

“Right now my job is to be here.” Graham crossed his arms. Gaston’s cheek muscle twitched.

“Can we have a few minutes, Graham? You could wait right outside the door.” She could call for him if she needed him. She wondered if she actually would.

“A few minutes and the door stays open,” Graham agreed reluctantly. Once he was out of the room Belle dug her nails into the arm of the couch. She tried to remember what it was like to sit at dinner with him and make small talk.

“You look good, Gaston.” He had a tan that she knew came from a tanning bed this time of year and a body sculpted with the help of a personal trainer named Lefou.

“You look… fine.” His eyes swept over her, and she knew he was seeing the hair pulled back in a ponytail and the bulky sweater that was warm but unfashionable. She hadn’t put on any makeup since she’d arrived, except the nail polish Ruby had used a few days ago to make her nails a pale pink. “Are you… fine?”

“I’m learning a lot about myself.” Fine was right up there with okay on the list of words she didn’t know how to define. There were a lot of things people said to each other that didn’t mean anything, polite lies that meant not talking about anything real..

“Moe said you would be coming home soon.” Belle flinched, but she was certain Gaston didn’t notice.

“I’m not ready for that.” Belle shook her head. She wouldn’t ever return to the place that Gaston called home. For weeks she had asked Doctor every day about the restraining order, needing the reminder that it was real. She had spoken to the sheriff once, as well. It had been almost a month now, and no lawyers had shown up. No threats had been made. She was beginning to believe she was safe for him, at least within the small world of Storybrooke. What happened when she left she didn’t know; she didn’t have a home anymore.

“I don’t understand why you’re here. You’re not like them.” He gestured towards the doorway, where the sounds of art therapy could be heard. “You’d do better being around your own people.”

“These are my people.” They were all trying to heal from things. She wondered if Gaston would even be able to understand what it was to need to heal. He spoke of little other than hunting and business, boating and stocks. If she was honest with herself there was very little she knew about the man she’d said yes to marrying. He knew even less about her.

“Your people are at home; there’s a dinner at the club this weekend. People keep asking me when you’re coming home, not that they know where you are.” Too restless for the couch Gaston rose and started pacing. “They ask me about the wedding.”

“I can’t marry you, Gaston.” She said the words in a hurry, afraid she wouldn’t say them all if she didn’t say them all at once.

“You don’t mean that. When you get home…”

“No.” She shook her head. When her father had brought Gaston home she had accepted it, as she did everything else. She hadn’t gone away to college because he didn’t want it. She hadn’t babysat as a teen. Hadn’t gone to school dances. She was always a dutiful daughter, even when it came to dating the man that was picked out for her. And saying yes when expected, whether it was diner, sex or an engagement ring. If she stayed with Gaston she was still her father’s prisoner. It didn’t matter that Gaston was unaware of who Moe French really was or what he had done. “I’m sorry Gaston.”

“I don’t understand, we had plans. You said yes.” Any plans they had, Belle knew, had been his own. A wife to take care of his house and play hostess for his parties. The right type of woman to show off at the club. Children, probably, but she couldn’t even think about that. For a moment she imagined a daughter, soft brown curls and her mother’s eyes. She thought of her father, and wondered if she would have more power to protect a daughter than she’d had to save herself.

“Belle.” He said her name sharply, and probably not for the first time. It was enough to bring Graham into the room. She thought of the stories he’d told her about Wolf, and wondered if that was why she was reminded so strongly of a predator. The narrow eyes and tense muscles might have scared her from another man, but she trusted him. He was there to protect her.

“I’m alright now.” She spoke to Gaston but looked over his shoulder to Graham. She could make it through this conversation but she wasn’t going to ask him to leave again.

“This place is making you worse, not better,” Gaston groused.

“I’m not someone you would want to marry.” There wasn’t any point explaining to him anymore than that. “The ring is in my jewelry box at home. You should have it back.”

“You shouldn’t make decisions in a place like this. When you change your mind…”

“I wish you the best, Gaston, I really do. I need you to go now.” Graham took a step closer. Perhaps Gaston felt it, or perhaps he decided his ego was smarting from the rejection.

“If I take back the ring that’s it.” When she didn’t say anything he got up and strode from the library. She hesitated for a moment before running after him.

“Gaston, wait.” She could feel Graham standing behind her, not trying to touch her but his presence unmistakable.

“I knew it.” His smile was the cocky one she was most familiar with. Belle took a breath, closing her eyes. She could be brave. She could speak up.

“You move in the same circles as my father. Parties, the club, charity events. You should know…” She felt her nails against the underside of her forearm and paused, pulling them away. She would not hurt herself. “He can’t be left alone with little girls. They need to be protected.

“You can’t mean…” She’d never before seen all the color drain from Gaston’s face. The horrified look in his eyes was probably the most real emotion she’d ever seen from him. She nodded and waited to see that he understood what she meant, then turned her back to him. She couldn’t allow him to ask questions, couldn’t speak any clearer than she already had. It had taken all of her bravery to say that much.

Doctor Gold was standing on the other side of the doorway. “Graham thought you might like a cup of tea. I thought we could take some out to the garden.”

“I would like that.” She was surprised to see that her hand wasn’t trembling. The hot tea would be welcome. Before she followed him she looked over her shoulder on last time. “Goodbye, Gaston.”

She stood completely still until she could feel him leaving. Graham was gone too, and she knew without having to ask that he was following Gaston. Making sure he didn’t linger, didn’t ask anything more of her. After almost two years and an engagement it was strange to think that she’d most likely seen him for the last time. It was probably stranger to think she had agreed to marry him but wouldn’t miss him.

“He’s gone, dearie. Would you like to sit down?”

“In the garden.” She looked down at her feet and willed them to move. After a moment they did, and if she thought about nothing else but walking she could get herself to the bench outside before her knees let her down. He handed her a mug of tea poured from his thermos as soon as she sat. It seemed cooler outside than it had half an hour ago when she’d been walking with Graham.

“He shouldn’t have gotten as far as the library without anyone stopping him, Belle. I’m sorry.” He waited a moment to speak, or maybe it was five minutes. She wasn’t sure how long she’d been staring at her tea before looking at him.

“He wasn’t a threat. He never hurt me.” She wasn’t sure she could say that Gaston was a good man. He worked and he hunted and he went to the club. He hated books and was sometimes frustrated when he saw her reading rather than socializing, but he was never cruel. He didn’t go out of his way to help anyone but neither did he hurt anyone. “I didn’t even know I didn’t want to be with him. It was easier to just say yes.”

“It was what other people wanted from you,” he commented softly.

“I said no to him today.” Had she ever said that before? She couldn’t remember the last time she’d said no, not to something as simple as where they were going for dinner or as complicated as an engagement ring. Not to trips with her papa or his college plans or anything. “Even when it made him mad.”

“The only emotions you are responsible for are your own.” His tea was on the bench, his hands both on the handle of his cane. He moved it restlessly, the tip moving bits of gravel around the ground. He always moved, even when he was sitting still. “What you did today took a good deal of courage.

“I was scared. Not of him.” He made her feel small next to him, his confidence and control making her feel like everything centered around him, but she hadn’t feared him. Or loved him. She’d simply existed next to him. “Everything’s changed now.”

“The unknown can be very hard to step into, even when the known is hurting us. It’s normal to be scared.” His voice was low and soothing. Belle allowed herself to close her eyes and just listen to him. His words settled into her bones with the same warmth as the tea.

“So now I start over?” With Gaston gone she had no connection to the people she’d called friends, who were really just social acquaintances. With the restraining order against her father she was an orphan in all the ways that mattered.

“As much as we might sometimes wish for a blank slate there is no such thing. No tabula rasa.” He quirked his lips into something that wasn’t quite a smile, or at least not a happy one. “We continue on a step at a time because the only thing we can do is move forward or stand still. What we do get to decide is what we carry with us and what we work on shedding.”

Belle looked down at her hands, seeing only the cooling mug of tea but knowing she held onto so much more. “I left Gaston behind.”

“You did. Are you feeling alright about that?” He picked up his mug, but only played with the handle.

Belle nodded. The conversation had been hard but knowing it was over was easy. “It’s not so simple with papa.”

“No, it’s not. But you’ve already taken the first steps.” He paused, looking at her. Belle took a shaky breath and nodded. It helped that he didn’t lie to her. Didn’t pretend that anything was going to be easy. If she’d taken the first steps there were still dozens more to take.

“One step at a time.” She rubbed her arm. There was no pain, and she’d stopped herself from digging her nails into the skin when she’d spoken to Gaston. That was a step too.

Belle deliberately chose the same sofa in the library she’d shared with Gaston the next day, an exorcism of sorts. She curled up with her notebook and pen, took a deep breath, and started writing. An hour later she had twelve pages of writing and a sore hand. The wolf was about to rescue Little Red from her grandmother when Jefferson threw himself at the other side of the sofa, making the whole thing bounce.

“Put the books away, it’s time to play.” He wore a top hat made from construction paper covered in glittering gears and offered her a pipe cleaner tiara with tissue paper roses. “Your unbirthday awaits.”

“I thought it was everyone’s unbirthday.” She slipped her book into the oversized pockets of her cardigan before accepting the tiara.

“You’re one of the everybody, aren’t you?” He tipped his hat at her, stood, and offered her his hand. She only hesitates a moment before letting him help her up.

“I am.” She followed Jefferson to the garden where her friends were waiting to celebrate. It was one more small step.

#rumbelle fic #mr. gold #belle french #graham humbert #jefferson #ruby lucas #things half in shadow #my fic

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closecry · 5 years ago

Text

The Back-up Plan (Pagan Min x Reader)

Word Count: 2,223. Rated T for light cursing. Cross posted to my AO3, MadQueen. Based off a recent shitpost I made.

It's 2018. Late 2018… Maybe. Probably. These days, it was hard to pinpoint what day it was exactly. You were on an island Pagan had purchased for his retirement from being the King of Kyrat. What with the constant sunshine and nice weather, it was hard to tell exactly what time of year it was.

Pagan had a calendar in the villa that he used to keep track of time (It went to the year 3000. Which you thought was ridiculous.). It wasn't needed, because while you were on an island in the middle of the ocean, it wasn't without the "necessities".

There were solar panels that were used to power the house, there were satellites that adorned the roof of the villa that could pick up stations halfway across the world, 4 swimming pools, a tennis and basketball court, and of course, Internet Access. Pagan couldn't live without access to Netflix, Prime, HBO GO, Hulu-... all of the subscription services. He had all of them.

Most days for Pagan are spent at the villa, enjoying one of the many activities he could while there.

As it stands, though, you were sitting on the edge of the sand at your favorite beach on the island. It had nice tide pools you enjoyed exploring when the option is made available to you. You were enjoying rereading one of your favorite books, one that Pagan had first introduced you to.

Today, you had been able to convince Pagan to come out with you, and while he was in the shade far away from the ocean's side… he was there. A nice steady presence behind you. He had a radio sitting beside him blaring music in order to be heard over the raging sound of the crashing waves.

The water laps up to your ankles and startles you from your book you had been engrossed in.

You had been sitting on the edge for hours, and the tide apparently had time to rise up to meet you. To be be fair, it was a good book. And Pagan's choice of music had really lulled you into a sense of bliss that left you ignorance of the passage of time.

You sigh, and lean back, your book now momentarily forgotten as you instead focused on the radio behind you and the waves crashing in front of you. It was playing ABBA, one of Pagan's favorite artists. You're not surprised about that, if you're being honest. He adored most music in the same sort of genre, the over the top ballads and upbeat songs being his go to jams. You suppose it did fit his drama queen personality, though.

You lay down against the sand, and your head lulls back in order to focus on getting a good look of Pagan from behind you in the shade tree that he often frequented these days.

For a man that bought a tropical island to spend his retirement on, he didn't really enjoy exploring the edges of the island, or the ruins of the former village, or the small mountain tops that littered the island, or even swimming.

No, he much more enjoyed sitting down in the shade reading through Vogue, a magazine he specifically had shipped to the island monthly. When he didn't have a new copy to peruse he often would pick up a book, but for now, being at the beginning of the month it was, it was time for his magazine.

Pagan had let his guard down on the island, no longer fearful of assassins around the corner, or an uprising in the shadows. He was just allowed to be himself.

The only other people on this island were a few farmers, chefs, repairmen, and cleaners who kept the island's villa and guesthouse up and running… and well, Gary. (You weren't sure Gary's exact job title, he just kind of did whatever Pagan wanted him to. He was deeply devoted to the former king.) There were shipments of whatever exotic item Pagan were craving, but for the most part you were incredibly self reliant.

You didn't have a care in the world on the island, it was bliss. While it was humid, you, unlike Pagan, enjoyed the island for what it was. You explored, and swam, and even had your own little garden by the house… Perhaps that's why he had picked the island, if he didn't himself enjoy the activities?

Pagan was still Pagan, though, somehow always able to tell when eyes were on him from years of being on the run. It was like he had a sixth sense for the thing. So, after a moment, his magazine slides down and he meets your eyes with a questioning look.

You're confident that if It weren't for the deafening noise of the ocean and ABBA drowning out any possible noise that he could make, he would perhaps teasingly ask what you were doing watching him, but as it stands he simply smirks, motions for you to take up the space beside him, and slides the magazine back up after a moment.

There was an empty seat beside him, across from the table where the radio sat. It was an over the top lawn chair, incredibly expensive and adorned in exotic metals in the frame with your name embroidered into the fabric covering the cushions. A set of seats fit for a king and his spouse.

You let out a chuckle at his overconfidence, knowing that he was now waiting for you to join him, but sure enough, after a few seconds you do stand up and make your way over. You couldn't deny, his company did sound preferable to the crashing waves and small sea creatures that had washed up on shore.

You wipe as much of the sand off your body as you can while you walk, and when you end up in front of Pagan you're left with two choices. As it stands, you could easily take the chair beside him, the one that he was motioning for you to take, but the area between his legs looks too tempting for you not to at the very least try.

It wasn't often he denied you anything you wanted, so you're fairly certain he won't push you away if you attempt to share the seat.

You lean down, sitting down at the space between his legs. When Pagan realizes what you're doing, the magazine slides up slightly to make room when you start to slide between his spread legs. You gently lay your back against his stomach and your head against the lower part of his chest. Your arms fall against his thighs where they surround you, essentially making makeshift arm rests.

You half expect him to simply move the magazine up to your head and use it as a sort of stand, as he has done before when you've interrupted his reading by doing similar feats. He especially did it when you were back on Kyrat, where his task had to do more with life and death rather than whatever Vogue was featuring this month. He throws the magazine to the side table, and tangles a hand into your hair, beginning to stroke the strands.

You push gently up into his hand, nuzzling back into his chest with a satisfied smile. Now this, this, was nice. Pagan normally only gave intimacy when it was first initiated, he rarely reached out. He was normally a reserved person, and before you had moved to the island he enjoyed showing his affection in other ways. Mostly monetarily, but his kind words did also hold a sort of reverence for only you.

Pagan can't help teasing you though, always finding a way to do so when at all possible. As it was, with you pushing back into his hand with contentedness, it wasn't hard for him to find something to point out. "Needy." He breathed, but the word was spoken with such fondness that he carried with him in nearly every breath.

He would never readily admit it, but you knew he liked it when he felt needed. Wanted. Before, when he was king, he had hundreds of people constantly reaffirming him. You tried to fill in where you could, and you're sure he understood exactly what you were doing. If he did, he didn't comment on it.

***

You're half asleep when the noise of the radio's static alerts you. You jerk against Pagan's body at the sudden change, surprised. It's cut out from Dancing Queen to a sort of alert noise that's taken the place of ABBA's voices.

Pagan's hand stops it's careful and calculated strokes, and he offers a glare to the radio. "What?" He grumbles, seemingly to the object as though it would answer him back.

As it is, you make no move to get up in order to inspect the radio, but instead watch it with confusion. Perhaps it had somehow switched stations to something else? Maybe it lost signal?

It beeps again and a voice starts speaking, sounding panic when it does so.

"There has been a nuclear attack on United States soil," You hear what sounds like the person shuffling papers.

You move forward, sitting on the edge of the seat now with bated breath. The lazy afternoon turning into the most stress you've had in years.

The voice starts up again after a moment. It doesn't sound any less nervous than it had previously. "It appears to been a direct retaliation from North Korea as a recent change in policy-"

The radio cuts out, and static takes it's place. You stare at it for a moment, your eyes widened with disbelief.

You had known about the rising nuclear threat of the other countries, but you never thought it would come to this. Sure, there would be alerts on the radio occasionally interrupting the stream of music that Pagan had playing, but… they were never like this. Never this severe.

You look at Pagan now, unsure of how to react to news of one of the biggest countries in the world being nuked. Millions other casualties, what with the tech that existed nowadays. There would undoubtedly be retaliation from the United States as well, thereby creating more death. Destruction.

Eventually, Pagan's arm reaches forward and he switches the radio over to the CD that he had in the device, and ABBA once again overtakes the noise of the waves in the background. He was never without his contingencies.

"Well, that's unfortunate." Pagan says, his voice not sounding the least bit sorry or worried. "A real shame." He says, reaching forward as to pick the Vogue magazine he had dropped when you plopped down into his lap.

You reach over to the radio and turn it down, but not off. He would complain if you turned it off entirely.

"Pagan." You say, your voice patient.

Still, he doesn't look up at you, he offers nothing but a simple hum in response, dismissively.

Your eyes narrow at him now, and while you want to take the magazine away and throw as far into the ocean as you can at his blasé attitude to all of this, you restrain yourself to moving a single finger over to his magazine and gently sliding it down, until his eyes meet yours again with a roll that doesn't go missed by you.

He looks entirely unimpressed. "It wasn't my fault, why are you looking at me like that, darling?" Pagan asks, his voice sounding almost annoyed. "I can't control what other countries do, hell, I can't even control what Kyrat does anymore-"

"Pagan," You start, effectively cutting him off, a sigh being unable to hold itself in. "We should still talk about what this means." You say, and after nothing but a raise of his eyebrow in question, you continue. "I mean, they are undoubtedly going to retaliate, and that means that most of the rest of the world is fucked."

Pagan, once again rolls his eyes. You want to hurt him. (Not really, but, still… He's being an asshole.)

His tone is still unworried when he speaks. "It won't reach us here, we're in the middle of nowhere." He assures you, but it's said like someone might talk to a child. As if it's obvious. "And, God-forbid if they drop one close enough for fallout to reach us, we'll simply move to the underground shelter. It has food and water enough for 30 people for another 30 years, the same as the one in Kyrat that Ajay is undoubtedly occupying currently..." He chuckles, and shrugs. "Hell, I believe the one here has it's own set of swimming pools as well, among other things."

He moves a hand to your shoulder and pats it softly. "We'll be fine." And with that, he has the magazine back up. A hand blindly reaches out and the radio is back to the volume it was before.

You believed him when he said you would be fine. The rest of the world might be going to shit, but here, on the island in the middle of nowhere, Pagan's retirement would not be interrupted. He couldn't save the world, society may be collapsing around him, but he could protect what was important to him. His world.

...Pagan never was without his contingencies.

#fc4 #far cry 4 #pagan min #pagan min imagine #pagan min x reader #far cry imagine #far cry #reader #og #my writing

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