#then hes like 'you know what always works? a metaphor! look at this chess set' | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

shina913 · 2 years ago

Text

Stalemate, Part 1 | MYG

Stalemate (Mini-series)

Definition: (1) Chess. a position of the pieces in which a player cannot move any piece except the king and cannot move the king without putting it in check. (2) any position or situation in which no action can be taken or progress made; deadlock

Pairing: Woodworker!Yoongi x Fem!Reader

Rating: M 🔞; NSFW

Genre: breakup!AU; toxic relationships; angst; fluff; smut; heavy drama

Summary: "The truth is, I'm not afraid to take that gamble anymore...in the off-chance that I get lucky again and feel the way I felt when I was with you. I'd happily make that bet over and over."

Word count: 8.9K+ words

Warnings (more written in individual chapters): problematic exes; relationship insecurities; alcohol consumption; cussing; miscommunication; past infidelity (reader had an affair with a married man but not detailed); vulnerable confessions; protected sex; oral sex (F-receiving); breast/nipple play; dirty talk; jealousy; multiple orgasms; verbal confrontation; a terrible joke about wood 😑

A/N: Phew! What a way to break my month-long writing drought/limbo...jumping from one unfinished WIP to another. As I mentioned on the series masterlist, this is a nonlinear story so you'll see multiple time jumps. I tried to map out the timeline using "Now" and "Then" headings so I hope that helps!

I was also going to straight-shot this but Part 2 is still missing a couple of scenes so I hope to post that in the next day or two. Until then, here's some smangsty-angst!

Now…

Yoongi pushes the button of his key fob to lock his car then walks across the street toward an alleyway. Over a decade ago, this area, at this time of night was always questionable at best. But the neighborhood was changing and old warehouses like these were being converted into some tech start-up office, a pop-up restaurant, or sometimes, the occasional modern art gallery.

“Yoongi!”

His friend, Namjoon’s voice boomed through the loud chatter and house music. He rushes to greet him by the entrance with a hug.

“Hey, glad you could come out tonight!”

Yoongi scans the surroundings and nods in approval. He gasps, “Wow–this looks great, Joon!”

“Thanks, man. Do you like how we styled all of the light fixtures?”

Both men look up at the ceiling and marvel at the decor. “I think I might run out of adjectives tonight,” Yoongi laughs. “I love what you did with them. They look awesome!”

“Great to be friends with the supplier, huh?” Namjoon grinned, elbowing Yoongi playfully.

“Yeah, yeah,” Yoongi answers wryly. “Only for you, Namjoonah.”

“Listen, I’d love to hang out and chat but there’s a lot of people here tonight. Lots of people to rub shoulders with, you know?”

“Aish, go ahead, man–it’s your night. I’ll be fine,” Yoongi smiles.

“Alright well, there’s an open bar set up in the patio and we’ve got people walking around with finger-foods. Just help yourself and have fun, yeah?”

After Namjoon walks away, Yoongi starts to walk deeper into the building and sees doors leading to an outdoor area to where a makeshift bar is set up. While he waits for the bartender to bring him his drink, he turns around to admire his friend’s place once more.

It had been a while since Yoongi had gone out on a weekend–by choice. He mostly preferred to stay in and be a recluse or occupy his time by working.

“Sir, your drink?”

Yoongi turns back toward the bar to take his beer. “Thanks,” he nods at the bartender, then drops a dollar in the tip jar.

As he starts to turn and walk away, he pauses while his vision lands on one corner, next to one of the multiple mobile sculptures installed in the space.

He watched from a distance as you carefully gazed at the exhibit, trying to find some deeper meaning or metaphor that it was trying to convey. Once you were ready to move onto another section of the gallery, your breath catches–and your eyes lock.

Then...

“Dude, where the hell are you? I’ve been waiting for over an hour,” Yoongi grumbled while he stood in a quiet corner to make a call. He’d been at the bar waiting for his friend, Namjoon to show up. It’s been a stressful week for him at work and he wanted to unwind and have a few drinks.

“Sorry, Yoongi. I sort of…ran into someone and now we’re talking about heading to her place–”

“Her?” Yoongi repeated, “Wha–you already hooked up with some chick?”

“I mean, I don’t know how it will turn out yet, Yoongi,” he chuckled on the other line. “We’re just talking. But if you want, I can still meet you? It’s just going to take me a little while,” Namjoon sputtered.

Yoongi groaned, knowing full well that once Namjoon had been roped in, it would be like trying to pull him out of quicksand. “You know what bro–just…don’t worry about it,” he concedes.

“A-are you sure? I could still–”

“It’s cool, Namjoonie. We’ll link up next time. Have a good night.” He signs off as sincerely as possible before hanging up.

Yoongi huffed, downed the rest of his beer then trudged back over to the bar. He motions to the bartender, who moved closer so he could place another drink order.

“Can I get a scotch, three fingers, no ice?”

******

It’s nearly 10:30 at night and you and your friend, Hyejin were still feeling the club’s vibe. It was a long weekend and you were intent on making a casual hookup or two.

“Anyway…we decided that things weren’t working out,” Hyejin shrugs. “We’re good though.”

You eyed her suspiciously. “Oh sure,” you say sarcastically, “Is that why you’re still fucking him?”

She giggled, clearly not planning on denying it. “I mean, he’s a nice guy and we started out as fuck-buddies…” she trailed off.

You rolled your eyes. “You need to start setting better boundaries, girl,” you say before taking a sip of your drink.

She shrugged, “I’m just living life. You should try it sometime!”

After you snort at her comment, she nudges your arm, bobbing her head toward the bar’s direction. “He looks yummy,” she remarks. You turn your head and made a quick assessment of the lonely patron she was gesturing at.

To your surprise, he turns his head in your direction. You met his gaze for a brief moment before he hastily turned away.

“He’s hot but a little too broody-looking,” you say dismissively even though you felt a flutter in the pit of your belly.

“So? You know what they say about those quiet, broody types…” Hyejin leans into your ear and whispers, “They’re freaks in the sheets!”

Your eyebrows knitted comically at her. “Who the hell said that?”

She clicked her teeth. “Me, duh!” She threw her head back in laughter, the music drowning out her drunken cackles. “Go get him–or I will,” she threatens.

Just then, he glances in your direction once more. But he’s unnerved by you and Hyejin staring straight at him so he turns away and looks down at his phone screen instead.

“I think he looked at me,” Hyejin said.

“Shut up, he looked at me!”

“You said he was too broody–”

“That didn’t mean that I was disinterested,” you cocked a warning eyebrow at her..

She laughed. “Well, what are you waiting for?” She dared.

You started to back away from her and grinned. “Slow your roll, babe…I’m going!”

You turned away from her and walked up to your target, his shoulders hunched over while he scrolled through his phone and alternately took a sip of his drink.

You ordered yourself a cocktail even though you technically already had one that you conveniently left behind where you previously stood.

You parked yourself on the seat next to him, pretending to scroll through your own phone while you gather up the courage. You see him from your peripheral view sneaking more glances at you.

When the bartender brings you your drink, the hottie to your left speaks out.

“Put her drink on my tab.”

The bartender’s eyebrow quirked. He looked at you then back at him. He gave him a small smile, nodded in acknowledgment, and walked away. You took it as your cue to finally start a conversation.

“Thanks, that’s nice of you,” you said, swiveling your seat in his direction, crossing your leg over the other.

“You’re welcome.”

The bartender serves your drink. As you pick it up, you raised your glass toward him. “Geonbae.”

“Geonbae,” he says as he raised his glass to tap it against yours.

After you both take a sip, you ask him straight away, “Are you here with anybody?” You were not wasting any more precious time.

“Well, I was waiting for a friend but he ditched me so I’m on my own tonight.”

“Oh no,” you feigned regret. “I hope you don’t mind if I keep you company for a bit? It’s the least I can do to thank you for this drink.”

Your boldness made him smile. “I’m Yoongi.”

“Nice to meet you, Yoongi. I’m YN.” He reached out for a handshake but you gave him a hug instead. It takes him by surprise but it’s a welcome one.

******

“So, you build furniture?”

“Yep. I design them and I build them,” he explains while you scroll through his company’s social media page.

“By yourself?”

He laughed. “Sometimes, if I can’t find reliable help,” he remarks, his laugh growing louder. “I mean, I do the designs by myself but I usually have a team who helps me with the production and assembly. I have my own workshop.”

“Wow,” you marveled and continued to scroll through his feed. “Your work is really good–and unique!”

“Thank you. I work with a lot of local suppliers–small businesses as well, like mine. It’s a great community,” he explains. “And by the way, your work looks great, too,” he says while he scrolls through your own social media feed.

“Oh, gosh–most of my moodboards are from random Pinterest concepts,” you respond.

“Ehh…I think you’re being too modest.” He zeroes in on a recent contract–one that you were really proud of. It was for a local restaurant chain that used to have a bland color palette and aesthetic until they hired you to liven it up for their first location expansion. Three locations later, they’ve been one of your most lucrative clients.

“You have a great eye,” he says before handing your phone back to you. You smile at his compliment while you return his phone.

“If you think my work is good, we should get together sometime.”

His eyebrow quirks at your remark, but he holds back his response thinking you might have misspoken. You smile at him and after taking a sip of your drink you say, “You know, I’m always looking into connecting with new vendors to partner with.”

He chuckled. “You think we can be partners?”

“Why not? I see a lot of potential for us. I work in design and you are a potential supplier...what’s the worst that can happen?”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “Our visions might not line up,” he responds with a hint of doubt.

You shrug. “Ever heard of compromising?”

He chuckled softly. “My work tends to come off too old-fashioned to some. It takes a different kind of audience.”

“So? Sometimes all it takes is a dash of old-fashioned,” you smile, raising your glass containing the same drink.

“Really?”

You lift a shoulder. “You need a little bitterness to balance the sweetness out.” You giggle at the cheesiness of that line.

“Point taken,” he says with a gummy smile, holding back his laughter.

******

The last thing you remember was Yoongi asking if you wanted to go to his place or yours–before everything went dark.

Your eyes flicker up to the ceiling.

As you adjust to the brightness of the room, you instinctively reach over by the nightstand to retrieve your phone to check for the time. It was a quarter past 8AM…and you were home…alone, as it seems when your head whips around to see the other side empty.

What happened?

You slowly pad your way into your living room. Maybe he was just trying to be polite and crashed on the couch.

Except, he wasn’t.

Did he just drop you off and leave? You clutch at your throbbing forehead. I’m getting too old for this shit, you thought to yourself. Still, you were worried about what happened to Yoongi.

You pull his number from your phone–at least, you think that you have his number.

“Aha,” you gasped when you find his name in your contacts list.

You realized it might still be too early but you thought you could just give him a call and leave him a voicemail just to make sure that he got home safely.

You open up your blinds to let get some more daylight in the room. By some twisted way, you found that it helped with your hangover.

While the other line trills, something catches your eye when you look out the window.

“Oh shit–” you say under your breath.

******

You approach his car and unsure whether to knock or let him be. He looked exhausted but you couldn’t just leave him out here.

You tapped your knuckles against the window and he immediately flinched. He looks around, seemingly surprised at his surroundings until his eyes land on you.

You gesture to open his door. When he does, you ask him, “Good morning. Would you like to come in for some coffee?”

******

He declines at first but you managed to convince him to come in. After a few sips of coffee, he insisted on cooking you breakfast.

You hadn’t gone grocery shopping yet and didn’t have much in your fridge except for some eggs and cheese. You had a couple of slices of bread in the pantry so he makes the most out of it. He is appreciative of the effort and continues to tell you that you didn’t need to go out of your way.

“So, do you always make breakfast for girls you pick up from the club?” You joke.

“Not really,” he laughs. “I also don’t fall asleep in my car after I’ve dropped them off.”

“You know you were welcome to sleep on the bed or the couch,” you say casually. “I wouldn’t have minded.”

“Nah, you were passed out and I didn’t want you to think that I was taking advantage of the situation or anything like that,” he reasons.

You smiled at how respectful and thoughtful he was. “I appreciate that. And…thank you for bringing me home.”

“You’re welcome.”

******

Days later...

“Bro, are you sure you can meet the deadline?”

Yoongi glanced at Namjoon, then scratched the back of his neck to think before he gave him an answer. He was feeling stressed with this client because they were fussy about the design. It took at least a dozen iterations of the collection before they finally approved it.

The deadline was fast approaching and Yoongi had fallen behind with the work. He’d have to pay his guys overtime and maybe even work on some of the pieces himself in the evenings to cover more ground.

“Tell them not to worry. Besides, when have I ever missed a delivery date for them?” Yoongi walks away and back into the workshop to check on how the other projects were progressing.

Namjoon nodded at Yoongi’s logic. No matter how stressful it got for him, Yoongi always managed to deliver the goods, and clients were satisfied each and every time. ”Alright, I’ll let them know.” He types a text to the client and sends Yoongi’s response.

After sending it off, he turns his attention back to Yoongi. “Hey, so–how’d you make out last weekend? Are we cool?”

The question seems to take Yoongi by surprise. “Huh? Why wouldn’t we be?”

Namjoon laughed. “Bro, this is me apologizing for abandoning you for a girl.”

“Oh.” Yoongi suddenly recalls the events leading up to how the night ended. “Uhm–nah, we’re cool. Besides, I did just fine,” he adds casually.

His friend’s mouth spread into a Cheshire cat grin. “Oof–you hooked up, didn’t you?”

Yoongi’s face scrunched in confusion. “Naaww…”

His laughter boomed from his chest. “Bro, I know you’re lying! Lemme see! Is she on social media?”

Yoongi clicked his teeth and groaned. “It wasn’t even like that.”

“So you did meet someone!”

He sighed, exasperated with his friend’s teasing. “Fine, I did. But nothing happened! We just hung out and I took her home.”

Unconvinced, Namjoon’s voice rose a few octaves. ”Whaaatt? Wait–so this the first girl you’ve hooked up with since–”

Yoongi waved his hand in mid-air to stop Namjoon from finishing his thought. “For the last time–she and I did not hook up,” he clarifies firmly. “We just had a nice conversation over a few drinks. Then I drove her back to her place…where I made her breakfast.”

Namjoon doubles over in laughter. “And you’re telling me that nothing happened?”

“Swear to god! After giving me her address, she fell asleep on the way there and I just carried her in. I slept in my car.”

“Wow…” Namjoon breathes out. “Look at you being all chivalrous!”

Yoong snorted at the comment.

“So–are you gonna see her again or what?”

Before he could answer, Namjoon’s phone buzzed with a text from their client. He reads the message to Yoongi. “She asked if you can squeeze in a prototype for barstools?”

“Aish,” Yoongi says under his breath. “I mean…that technically wasn’t even…” he stops short. Instead of arguing, he drags out a sigh and relents. “You know what, fine. Tell her I’ll include it and bill her later.”

Namjoon types up Yoongi’s response, to which the client replies almost instantaneously. “Is he absolutely sure?” He read the text out loud, a wry look on his face.

Yoongi looked up at his friend and let out a grunt of annoyance. “Just fucking tell her ‘yes’.”

Namjoon nods and sends the response again. “I don’t know why I need to be your middleman here–”

“Well, you brokered this deal. And from the jump, they preferred to communicate this way, so…” he trailed off. After ensuring some quality control on his employee’s work, Yoongi walks back into his living space and flops himself onto the sofa. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

Namjoon walks toward his friend and sits on the adjacent seat. “Is that really all there is to it?” His voice had a hint of concern and worry for his friend.

Yoongi turned his head and opened one eye to look at him.

“It’s been over a year. She’s moved on–”

“Clearly,” Yoongi deadpanned before closing his eye again.

Namjoon shifted uncomfortably and scratched the back of his neck. “Well…aren’t you back in the dating scene? Can’t we all be grownups here?”

He let out a deep sigh, then opened his eyes again to dig his phone out of his back pocket. He didn’t think Namjoon’s question required an answer so he just scrolls through his screen.

Talking about his past relationship was a sore subject…even for Yoongi, whom his other friends thought to be typically aloof about these kinds of things. But sometimes, whatever one showed on the outside actually ran much deeper on the inside.

Shrugging, Namjoon takes Yoongi’s reticence as his cue to leave.

When the door shuts, Yoongi pauses his scrolling through his social media feed as his vision lands on a particular post. Damn algorithms got him again. He clicks on the account’s page and follows it.

Next, he types up a message and then hits ‘send.’

******

After work, you head over to a pub close to your office. You offered to meet Yoongi halfway from wherever he was coming from but said that he was happy to head over closer to where you were at.

He was already at the bar when you walked in, looking more relaxed than when you first saw him over the weekend. You weren’t much for guys with long hair but something about his hair being pulled back in a half-up/half-down bun became a contributing factor that held your attention.

You greet him with a hug, which he reciprocates. He asks what you want to drink. You glance at his whisky and decide to order an old-fashioned.

“You know, when you texted me this afternoon, I was a little surprised.”

“And why’s that?” He asks you.

“I don’t know. I wasn’t sure if you thought our night ended kind of weird.” You sat on the stool next to him, your legs crossed in his direction while you turned your glass on the bar’s surface with your fingers.

He laughed. “I’ll admit, I don't remember having a night like that…ever, I think?” Your eyes drift to his fingers that dance over the rim of his glass of whisky.

“Is that because you always score?”

He caught his lower lip with his teeth and inhaled. “I’ll tell you right now, if my best friend were here, he’d already fallen off his chair laughing.”

His comment made your eyebrows lift in surprise. You both took sips of your drinks. After you swallow, you ask, “On that note, how many serious relationships have you had?”

He nearly chokes on his drink, laughing awkwardly. “Oh, we’re at that level of comfort now?”

You lifted a shoulder. “Seemed like the conversation was headed there anyway. Might as well get there sooner!”

He laughs, then pauses to consider his answer. “I’ve had one.”

“One? That’s it?” You were incredulous. You found him attractive–and not in a novel way. He spoke calmly and even sagely at times. A good conversation these days was rare and often overlooked or easily forgotten. But he was someone you enjoyed talking to...and someone you hadn’t been able to get out of your mind in the last few days.

“Yeah. Just the one,” he replies.

“Wow…”

“Yep. We were going to get married and everything. But,” he let out a sharp breath, “She changed her mind.” He sighed, picked up his glass, and swirled the liquid in it. “She broke it off the day before…told me she couldn’t go through with it.”

You watched him throw his head back and polish off the rest of his drink. Your heart hurts for him and you didn’t have a smartass joke to say to lighten the mood.

“Anyway!” He sighed deeply, desperate for a subject change. “That was a long time ago. It’s all done and over with. She’s off doing her own thing, I’m doing mine. What about you? How many serious relationships have you been in?”

“Nine.”

His eyes widened. “Nine? Those were all serious?” He asks carefully.

“Yes,” you say confidently. “Why is that hard for you to believe?”

He scoffed. “I mean…you don’t look that old and you’ve been in nine serious relationships?”

“What does my age have to do with it?” You laughed.

“Well…usually, relationships span years–”

“That’s what you think,” you countered. “You think that in order for a relationship to be considered serious is the amount of time you’ve been with that person. I mean, couldn’t it just be the depth of connection with that person?”

That stopped him in his tracks. He let that thought sink in, then nodded gently. Meanwhile, you’re watching his facial expressions–the wheels turning in his head.

“I can still feel you silently judging me,” you chuckle.

“I’m not,” he says simply. “I’m certainly in no place to judge. You’re an adult, free to make your own choices. Besides, we’ve only just met.”

You smiled. “Fair point.”

“Although…I’m curious, if you don’t mind me asking.”

You shook your head and prompted him to continue.

“Out of all of those relationships, which one was your worst heartbreak?”

“Damn!” You laughed. “And here you are questioning whether we’ve known each other long enough to discuss these things?”

You both laugh at the thought. When you calm down, he says, “Touché. I was just curious, that’s all. You don’t have to answer.”

“It’s fine, I’ll answer.” You downed the rest of your drink and turned your attention back to him. “The one that really did a number on me was my last relationship. We were together for about six months…” You paused to clear your throat, “until I found out that he was married.”

“Married? So you were someone’s mistress?”

“Unknowingly!” You contest. “Besides, I ended it as soon as I found out. I didn’t want to get tangled up in all that.” You winced at the memory. Not your finest moment but since then, you tried to be more vigilant about red flags.

“Well, like I said–it’s all in the past, right? The point is, we both got our hearts broken. End of story.”

You nodded in agreement before he switches gears. “Don’t you ever get scared?”

“Scared of what?”

“Repeating the whole process. You know, as someone who’s been in all of these relationships…don’t you ever get tired of starting from scratch every time? The whole getting to know each other, falling in love…then being faced with the possibility of things not working out.”

“I wonder about people who are afraid to put themselves out there again after getting hurt by love. I really don’t get that,” you say in jest.

He shrugs. “Who likes getting hurt? That’s not something rational people consciously wish for themselves.”

You sighed wistfully at the thought. “You know, I never understood why some people think of it that way. You know, trying to rationalize falling in love. Isn’t that counterintuitive? Love in itself is all about being spontaneous, irrational…reckless, even. The feeling of being completely wrapped up in the emotion and the moment–all because of one person. That includes all the fear, uncertainties…even the possibility of getting hurt. The experience of love isn’t complete without all that.”

He chuckled with his gummy grin. “Sounds like a huge gamble to me.”

“But if you never take that gamble, how will you ever experience the joy of winning big? How would you ever know what your heart is capable of taking if you’re always afraid of losing?”

He eyed you for a few seconds, letting your words sink in. “So you’re telling me that you’re willing to go through what could possibly be twice the amount of hurt–just to fall in love again?”

“Absolutely!” You declared with confidence.

You took another sip of your drink, then looked him straight in the eye. “I mean…you’re not thinking of hurting me, are you?” You ask him cheekily.

His eyebrow quirked in response. “Y-you’re asking me?” He chuckled nervously.

“Calm down! It’s just a rhetorical question,” you giggled.

You both laugh it off. Afterward, he pursed his lips and eyed you again. “But just so we’re clear…I don’t plan on it.”

His answer made your heart skip. You didn’t have any smart-ass quips to lob back at him.

After what seems to be an eternity of staring at each other in tense silence, he asks, “Do you wanna get out of here?”

******

He showed you around his modest place, where he had a full and, judging by the fresh sawdust on the tables, actively functional workshop. It was attached to a one-bedroom living space with a kitchen, a cozy living room, and a full bathroom. But by your assessment, it looked more like the living space was attached to the workshop.

“You sleep where you work?” You ask while looking at the work surface next to you.

He notices you looking at it so he leans over to swipe the sawdust off the table. “I didn’t see the point of going back and forth between places.”

“Yeah but it must be hard to live where you work and work where you live?”

He chuckles. “On the contrary, it’s more convenient for me. When I’m tired, I just lay on the couch. If I have trouble sleeping, I just come over here and tinker with stuff.”

You eyed him silently as he stood over the table, his hands spread wide while he supported his weight on them.

“I don’t know if I can do that. I need clear boundaries.”

“Don’t you bring work home from time to time?”

You shrugged. “Sometimes, if I’m on a tight schedule. But I try not to do it if I can help it. I prefer the idea of drawing that line where, once I walk out that door, that’s it. I’ll come back to it in the morning. Once I’m off work, I’m off work.”

He hummed. “That’s fair.”

You carefully move a small container of wood stain to the side then hop up on the table. After giving his studio another once-over, you turn your attention to him.

“What are you currently working on?”

He seems hesitant at first but decides to share a little bit. “I’m…trying to create a prototype for this light fixture,” he says vaguely.

“Really? Can I see?”

He chuckles, then paused to check if you were actually serious about looking at his designs. When your expression remained unchanged, he decides to reach past you to pull his sketchbook toward him. He flips through a few pages until he lands on a specific one.

The page has a rough sketch of a multi-tiered looking chandelier with what looked like wooden fringes, instead of what would typically be glass or crystal.

“So, I’m trying to focus on more natural materials like rattan, bamboo…I don’t know, maybe my friend, Namjoon, has been hanging around my studio too much,” he says in jest.

Your fingers brush the pencil lines on the page. His ideas were beautiful. They were modern yet had an old-world feel to them. His pieces didn’t look like something that was mass-produced. Each one had its own personality but all of them were crafted with artisanal care.

“You think you could work with these?” He asks quietly, his face an inch away from you.

“Oh, definitely,” you smiled. “My mind’s already buzzing with ideas.”

He looks down from your eyes to your mouth…then back up to your eyes again. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you whisper then take in his scent. “You smell nice. What is that?”

“Uhm, I don’t know…pine?” He answers before you close the gap between you to kiss him. You taste faint traces of whisky and citrus flavors in his mouth. His lips were soft and melded into yours, making you sigh into him. His kiss was as calm and gentle as his usual demeanor.

He presses his body closer to yours, making you tilt backward on the work table, spilling the can of wood stain on you. You gasp, startled at the feel of it on the side of your leg, and hastily hop off the surface.

“Fuck…I’m so sorry,” he says.

“I-it’s okay,” you stammer, grabbing onto your dress to assess the damage.

“No, it’s not. I ruined your dress.”

“Yoongi, it’s okay,” you say nonchalantly. “I can take it to the cleaners…” You inspect the stain while he goes to grab a paper towel. Who were you kidding? This was varnish. The dress itself was cheap but it was beyond salvageable.

You looked up to see him hovering over you. “Or we could just take it off?”

With his breath fanning your face, you fist at his shirt and pull him into you again. This time, his lips didn’t feel tentative–they were more ardent…hungrier. He lifts you off the worktable and you both stagger out of the workshop and toward his living space. The closest comfortable surface was couch so he lowers you both there.

You reach back to lower the zipper of your dress while he pulls his shirt off. When he tosses it to the side, helps you undress the rest of the way through.

His fingers laced around the back of your neck urging you closer to him. He moved from your mouth down to your neck, gently sucking the skin on your collarbone.

You felt a gush of moisture soak through you…you let go of every ounce of control that you hung onto because were desperate for him now.

With one swift move, he unclasps your bra and moves his mouth to your chest while he lowered you further until your head hit the armrest.

Your breath hitches as he wraps his plush lips around an aching nipple. You swore right then that you’d orgasm from the feeling alone…but he was just getting started.

You reach between both of you and undo the button and zipper on his jeans, pushing them down.

He hooks his fingers onto your panties and you arch your back so he can slide them off. You were completely bare for him now, hypnotized by his desire for you at this moment.

You kept your eyes at him, unable to look away as pulls your legs apart and gave your inner thighs gentle kisses. He locked eyes with you and kept contact while you watched him sink his mouth onto your cleft.

You sucked in a harsh breath while he tongued you. You felt every lick and every suction of his mouth onto your moist, swollen lips.

Your walls clenched achingly at nothing while he continued to eat you out. Your breath began to stutter as you shamelessly bucked your hips against his mouth, desperate for a release.

You felt him dip two fingers into you…pulling them in and out lazily while his tongue fluttered over your clit.

Your body bowed when he alternated licking and sucking at your clit. It wasn’t long before your orgasm built up to a fever pitch. Your throat tightened, desperately trying to suck in air while your body tensed.

“Aaahh…gonna cum–fuck…”

You cried out hoarsely further as he got his last two licks in before you came down from your high. You were about to pass out from the pleasure when you saw him fish out a foil packet from his wallet.

You sat yourself up, meeting him halfway as he lined himself up between your thighs. You kissed him senselessly, your tongue fighting his for control.

Your mouth stilled as you felt him slowly enter you. You sucked in another breath while you felt that delicious stretch.

He urged you to lay back down while he pushed the rest of his length into you.

“Fuh…,” was all you managed to breathe out while your eyes rolled to the back of your head as shivers coursed through your body.

You looked back at him, a pained look on his face from how tight you were for him. You gave him a small nod of assurance to let him know that you were okay.

He started to move his hips slowly until he found a consistent rhythm.

He lowered himself further against your body and wrapped your leg around his waist. He thrusted in and out of you at a steady pace while your core tightened further around him along with another orgasm building up.

“Fuck, YN…feel so good,” he choked out in between breaths. He sealed his mouth onto yours, moaning in pleasure.

Your nails raked his back–from his shoulders and down to his hips that relentlessly railed into you.

“Fuck, don’t stop…don’t stop…” you gasped as you felt yourself edge closer to another orgasm.

Your muscles clenched around his cock while he repeatedly hit you deep into your core. You buck your hips into him, meeting him at every thrust while you both moan into each other’s mouths.

The next thing you knew, he had tipped you over the edge again.

His palms cup your ass, raising your hips to him. A few more thrusts and he was arching his back, pressing his forehead to yours as his own climax coursed through him.

The next morning, you wake up to the smell of coffee, that he brought to you, bedside.

******

After that night, you spent many more going back and forth between his place and yours.

You went about both your days but talked all the time. You always made time to see each other–he’d work around your schedule and you’d work around his. Things were going so well and stress-free.

You didn’t feel the need to change the way you were around him and neither did he. Everything just came naturally to both of you.

Some days, you were unaware of how much time you spent together. Some weekends, you would just laze around and never leave the room. It was bliss.

“Jagiii!” You yell out from his bedroom, hoping he’d hear from the loud, grinding noise of his industrial sander.

He turns the machine off, flips his visor up, and pulls his earplugs out. “Yeah?” he bellowed from his workshop.

“Could I just have five minutes for a phone call?”

He gestures to his workshop assistant, telling him that he can take a break. “Alright, we’ll take five!” he says.

“You’re the best! Love you!”

“You owe me,” he teases.

“Just put in on my tab, jagiya,” you tease back.

******

Weeks later, you finally signed a lease for your new condo. Yoongi was on hand to help you move and get settled. You’d gone back and forth your old place to pick up smaller things that you didn’t load up in the big truck. The most important things were your larger furniture anyway.

Yoongi was tinkering with the internet connection in the second bedroom while you stood quietly in the midst of the expansive space, surrounded by boxes. It was getting dark out but you hadn’t installed your blinds yet so the moonlight illuminated the room. You stared out the window and into the glittering city lights.

“Why are you standing out here in the dark?” Yoongi flicks the light switch on.

“No, no–turn it back off.” He does so tentatively. “Is everything okay?” He approaches you carefully from behind, wrapping his arms around you. You lean your head back against him and sighed. “I’m perfectly fine, thank you. Just…trying to take it all in as everything calms down again.”

“Are you tired?” He nuzzled his nose into your hair.

“Mm-hmm,” you nod.

“Yeah, I can smell the dried sweat from your forehead,” he says before you poke him in his side, making him laugh out loud.

“I’m kidding,” he smiles, grabbing onto your waist and turning you around to face him. “Are you happy?”

“I am.” You plant a soft kiss on his lips. “Thank you for helping me today.”

“Of course. Even if you didn’t ask me to, I still would have done it.”

“I know but this is a huge deal for me. After all these years of hard work, I’m finally upgrading my home.”

“That’s great. I’m very proud of you for doing that. And you know,” he glances past your shoulder and jerks his chin at your windows. “I can totally make you some custom blinds, too. None of that plastic, vinyl shit. I can use bamboo so it’s cooling but also great for insulation. Very sustainable, too.”

You giggled and kissed the tip of his nose. “Mmm…keep talking eco-friendly to me, Mr. Min…”

“Well…” he brushes his lips against yours, “If you like that, wait ‘til you hear about the reclaimed wood we’re using for this new commission.”

You threw your head back and moaned. “Ooh…yes…keep going.”

Chuckling, he dipped his head and leaves a trail of kisses down your exposed throat. “Why don’t we take this back in the bedroom and I can show you what else we can do with some wood.”

You start cackling at his comment and before you know it, he picks you up off your feet and you stumble into your room and stayed there until the sun came up.

Now…

In a panic, Yoongi heads to one corner of the gallery to search for his friend. “Namjoonah!”

Namjoon’s head whips around to see Yoongi headed for him. He excuses himself from the current conversation he was having. “Hey, Yoongi–”

Immediately, Yoongi pulls Namjoon right by the bathrooms to scold him. “Bro, that’s not cool. I wish you told me that YN was going to be here.”

“If I had told you, would you have come out tonight?”

Yoongi scoffed, “Of course, I still would have,” his voice went up a higher register, making Namjoon snicker. “I just…I wish you would have given me a warning so I could have been, I don’t know, better prepared!”

“Prepared for what? You guys have been broken up for years. Besides, you’ve always known that she and Hyejin are friends. You should have at least expected her to be here so I don’t know why you’re all bothered. Unless of course you not over her yet?”

Yoongi remains adamant. “Dude, of course, I’m over her! I just got caught off-guard, that’s all.”

“Are you sure you’re not still thinking about her?”

“Fuck no! Are you kidding? You know I can’t stand her! She’s too loud, a terrible cook…not to mention that she has way too much drama in her life.”

Namjoon snorted. “And you didn’t?”

Yoongi shakes his head dismissively. “Whatever, dude–I’m just not all about that. My new motto in life is to stay drama-free, you know?”

He gives Yoongi a skeptical smile. Just then, the bathroom door opens behind them.

The color from Yoongi’s face drains as he gets the shock of his life when he sees you emerge.

You stood there smirking while Namjoon and Yoongi exchanged looks.

“Uh, sorry, guys–I think I need to use the bathroom.” Namjoon says, stifling a laugh while he cuts in between you two and shuts the door.

Yoongi remained standing in awkward silence, trying to will the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

“I thought you liked it when I was loud for you?” With that, you walk past him and disappear into the crowd.

Then…

“I can’t hear you, baby…come on…let me hear how good I make you feel.”

“Ahhh…f-fuck…” You cried out loudly, body stiffening, with your fingers grasping Yoongi’s hair at the roots while his tongue teases the last pulses of your orgasm.

“There you go…good girl.”

You and Yoongi were planning to have a quiet night in but Hyejin invites you out at the last minute, saying that you haven’t had a proper girls’ night in a while. Thinking about it now, it’s been over a month since you met up with her. Most of your nights were preoccupied with Yoongi these days.

When Yoongi couldn’t convince you to stay in, he asked if you needed a ride there and you decline, saying that Hyejin offered to pick you up.

When you stepped out of the room and he sees you in your outfit, a dark cloud overcomes him. He grabs you by the waist, lifts you onto the kitchen counter, and moving your panties aside, dives right in.

He helps you off the counter and you smooth your dress. You glance downwards and see the bulge in his pants.

“Hey, let me take care of that.” You reach out to cup him but he catches your hand and lifts it up to his lips to kiss it.

You’re suddenly torn between walking out the door and wanting to stay to suck him off…deep. The latter option sounded more appealing as you felt your mouth water at the thought of him fucking your mouth.

He pulls you in close and presses his hard-on against you. You let out a small whine of protest. His tongue grazed his lower lip before sinking his teeth into it.

He tutted. “Come home to me later and I’ll give you what you want.” His voice made it sound like a warning…a warning that you were tempted to ignore just to find out what he would do to you for ignoring it. The idea excited you so much that you felt heat pooling between your legs again.

“Are you sure? I still have a few minutes before I’m supposed to meet Hyejin,” you smile sweetly, your lips brushing against his jawline.

“I’m sure. Now go before I change my mind,” he says in jest.

“Okay,” you acquiesce.

Right before you walk away, he takes your mouth and kisses you hard. You couldn’t help but lick traces of your arousal from his lips.

When he pulls away, you are breathless and weak in the knees–more so after that orgasm that he gave you minutes ago.

******

You hadn’t noticed that Hyejin stopped mid-sentence to eye you as you giggled at your phone screen while you exchanged spicy texts with Yoongi. You finally look up and meet her gaze.

“What?”

“What do you mean ‘what’,” she says in a mocking tone. “I’ve been blabbing up a storm here and you’re all heart-eyes, drooling over your phone there.” She tilts her chin up to get a look at your text screen and you immediately pull it close to your chest.

She scoffed then laughed. “Oh my gooood…you are so whipped for him!”

You roll your eyes at her. “I am not!”

She laughed even louder at your response. “Oh come on, YN! How long have we been friends? I can tell whether you’re just feeling a buzz between your legs or if you’re really into someone. And right now, I know that you are so down bad for him,” she declares.

You feel your cheeks ignite. It wasn’t because of the alcohol but because you knew she was right.

You sighed in defeat. “Okay, fine! So we’re a little obsessed with each other, big deal.”

You started to gush over your relationship. “I just love how much he cares. He checks in, asking whether I’ve eaten yet. He cooks for me…then, he tells me when he misses me. It’s nice. It feels nice to feel needed, you know?”

Hyejin nods. “Well, that’s all because you guys are still in that honeymoon phase!”

You scoff, dipping your fingers into your glass and flicking droplets of cold water at her. “Bitch! You’re so negative!”

She throws her head back in laughter. “I’m kidding, babe! You know me. Seriously, I’m happy for you. Now…” she cleared her throat. “Does he have a single hot friend that you know of?”

******

The following weekend, you convince Yoongi to come with you on a walking tour of a museum exhibiting gothic renaissance art. You were looking for some inspiration for your next project. You saw an ad online and decided it couldn't hurt to go exploring for a bit. It was also a nice excuse to pull him away from his workshop.

“Uhh…” Yoongi croaks tentatively. “I don’t know exactly what it is we’re looking at,” he laughs while cocking his head from one side to the other, trying to decipher the exhibit in front of you.

“Neither do I, jagi,” you giggled, glancing at the museum brochure. “I don’t know, I’m just trying to get some inspiration for this restaurant revamp. They currently have this old western theme…which is strange because they serve pizza and pasta.”

Yoongi laughs. “That concept doesn’t even make sense!”

“I know! But the owner’s daughter is a bit more modern and she’s totally up for a theme change.” You’ve talked to Yoongi about this new contract for weeks now and it’s finally happening. He was excited to bounce ideas off you to the point where you pulled him in as a supplier for the rebrand.

Even though the daughter was pushing for a more modern twist, her father, the restaurant’s current owner, wants to keep some traces of that classic feel to it.

“So, no saloon doors?” Yoongi says sarcastically.

You threw your head back in laughter. “Definitely not! The daughter would fire me. I was thinking we can bring in your natural concepts with that wooden fringe chandelier sketch that you were working on.”

His hand linked with yours, bringing it up to his lips to kiss it, making you grin like a lovestruck teenage girl. “Sounds good to me.”

You walk out of the museum and stood on the sidewalk, intending to walk a block over to a theater, not to see a show but to look at the architecture. The theater had a classic art deco design that would come in handy for your moodboard. You convinced Yoongi to make it part of your chill date before heading back to your place for dinner.

As you approach the end of the block, you are nearly run over by a man pushing a stroller that rounded the corner.

“Hey, watch it,” Yoongi exclaims protectively.

“Oh, I’m sor–YN?”

You suck in a breath. “Soonyoung, h-hi.”

“Hey! Wow…it’s been a while. Uh…h-how’ve you been?” He asks.

“Uhm…g-good,” you stammer. “You?” Then your eyes flick nervously over to the stroller that had a sleeping baby in it. “Congratulations!”

“Thanks,” he smiled. “Uh–so–”

“Yeobo!”

You whip your head around to see a woman come out of the restaurant that you were standing in front of. She walked towards Soonyoung and the stroller.

“Hi,” she greets you and Yoongi, then turns to Soonyoung waiting for him to introduce her.

“This is my wife, Naeyeon. Yeobo, this is YN. She’s an old friend.” She smiles at you then her eyes shift to Yoongi.

Somehow, your brain lurches forward. “This is Yoongi,” you say to both of them while you stood across from them. “My boyfriend.”

“So great to meet you both!” She says with a warm smile.

“Anyway, we should go before we miss our reservation, Nae. It’s good to see you again, YN,” Soonyoung says in a hurry before he and his family walk around you and into the restaurant.

******

Since that awkward run-in with Soonyoung, Yoongi has been uncharacteristically short with you for the rest of the day.

When you get back to your place, he sets the grocery bags on the kitchen counter. Afterward, he picks up the to-go bags that contained your dinner.

You watched him quietly lay out the containers on your dining table, along with the disposable utensils, setting place settings for you and him.

He sits down and pulls his chopsticks apart. “We should eat before the food gets cold,” he says without looking up at you.

You wordlessly take the seat adjacent to him. He immediately puts a dumpling on your plate before he serves himself.

He pauses as if remembering something. He rose from his chair and moved toward the kitchen.

“Do you want a beer?”

“Just water is fine,” you answer blandly while staring at the lone dumpling on your plate.

He returns to the table, setting a glass of water next to you, and immediately takes a long swig of his drink after he sits back down.

He grabs so more food and puts it on his plate, pausing to offer you some but you decline. All this time, he still hasn’t made eye contact with you.

Unable to withstand it anymore, you push your plate aside to finally ask, “Something the matter?”

He doesn’t answer and instead continues to chew his food quietly.

You let out a frustrated sigh. “You’ve been acting weird all afternoon.”

He swallowed his food only to say, “Not now, YN.” He takes another bite.

You pursed your lips and gently press him again. “Look, if we have a problem here, we need to talk about it. We’re both adults here–”

“YN, I said, not now,” he says more sternly. Catching himself, he leans against the back of the chair, throwing his head back and rubbing his eyes. He regrets snapping at you. With a heavy sigh, he finally meets your gaze. “I’m sorry I…” he hesitates but finally gives into that nagging feeling in him. “Was that him?”

You give a small nod. “Yeah.”

“Fuck,” he says under his breath. “You should have introduced me as your boyfriend sooner!”

You scrunch your face in surprise. “Why does the timing even matter? The point was that I introduced you, right?”

His voice grew louder. “If you introduced me sooner, he'd take it as a sign not to make stupid small-talk or-or...even think about trying to start shit with you again!”

“Geez, Yoongi. Why would you even think like that? Clearly, the man was right there with his wife and kid. It was a short, very random run-in that will probably never happen again.” You maintained a calm tone.

“That’s what you think.”

“Excuse me?” You started to grow irate at how unreasonable he was starting to sound. “Yoongi–I’m with you, not him. I love you, not him. I don’t understand why we’re making a huge deal out of this!”

He stood there silently, his hands on his waist, nostrils flaring with every breath he took. The seconds tick by and before you try to reason with him, he huffs and walks into the bedroom, the door slamming.

*****

After you store the takeout containers in the fridge, you enter the bedroom to find him lying on the bed with his back toward you. He doesn’t turn to face you or say anything so instead, you shower and get changed. When you get under the covers, you turn on your side so you faced the opposite direction.

A few minutes of silence and staring at your nightstand, you hear him let out a deep sigh before speaking. “I’m sorry for acting the way I did earlier.”

His apology pinches your chest but you keep your back toward him. “You know, just because I hooked up with a married man before doesn’t mean that I’m itching to do it again. So I froze when I saw Soonyoung, but that’s only because I hadn’t seen him since I broke it off and to add to that, his wife was right there. What did you expect me to do?”

“I know, I’m sorry. I got jealous and–I don’t know, I wasn’t thinking.”

It was then that you rolled over to face him.

“Look…I made a stupid mistake a while ago but as soon as I was aware of it, I walked away and I grew from that. I thought that my being completely honest with you from the very beginning was a way to build trust between us…and that I had nothing to hide. But…” Your voice started to waver, “If you’re only going to use that against me, then I don’t think–”

“No, no–” He engulfs you in his arms immediately. As the warmth emanating from his body coursed through you, you couldn’t help but cry into his chest.

“Aw, baby…I’m sorry. I love you. I won’t question that again. And I do appreciate your honesty.”

You lifted your head and tilted your chin up to him. “I love you, too, Yoongi.”

There was nothing you could do to change the past but as he rocked you to sleep, you wondered if you were right to be open and honest with him from the beginning …or was it a careless mistake? Should you have put your best foot forward first and pretended to be perfect instead?

At your age, you learned that being up-front with your relationship expectations prevented less hurt if things went south. If either party decides that any of those expectations was a dealbreaker, you moved on, and no harm was done.

You only hoped that Yoongi felt the same.

Tags: @internetjunkdrawer @itdoesntmatterwhy @yoongukie-ff @deepseavibez @miksancheese @shesoldbutcute @yu-justme @joonschocochip

Part 2 ◥ | Main Fic Masterlist

Thank you for reading! If you loved it and/or curious to learn more, please comment, reblog, or send me feedback! 📩. I love hearing from readers! If you didn't like it so much, I would still like to hear about it 💜

#bts fanfiction #yoongi #yoongi x reader #min yoongi #yoongi angst #yoongi smut #bts smut #bts angst #bts min yoongi #bts yoongi #myg angst #myg smut #stalemate x myg

224 notes · View notes

idiotwithanipad · 8 months ago

Text

Based on an idea wonderfully given to me by @imdefyingmavity

Basically if Robin's daughter, Pin (an OC of mine) died, not on the Button House land, but on Barclay's land and couldn't cross the border just like the other ghosts. So she never knew that Robin was just a short distance away, and neither did Robin. But one night, Alison returns from Barclay's after a dinner she was roped into and tells Robin about the strange woman who looks just like him

Now I will cry all night🥺👌🏻

"Oh, damn and blast!" Julian growled. Robin had once again won in their nightly game of chess, the caveman chortled and pointed in spite of his formal yet crass opponent.

"Told you! Me always win chess!" Robin laughed, raising a cocky brow at Julian and waggling his finger. Alison trotted into the room, seemingly out of breath with a red tint to her face, her eyes landing straight on Robin.

"Robin, I need to borrow you a sec" She panted, bending forward and resting her hands against her knees.

"Weren't you supposed to be at dinner with that loudmouth prat? Y'know, the one with the clearly unsatisfied wife? Could never be me" Julian added, straightening his tie with a smug grin on his face.

Alison swallowed back a glob of saliva and caught her breath.

"I was, but- I need you to come with me now, Robin"

"What? I done nothin'..". Robin pleaded, looking like a deer in headlights.

"You're not in trouble, it's just- there's something I think you need to know...". Alison kept the situation vague on purpose, she knew he'd follow her if that was the case.

According to plan, Robin glanced over at Julian before rising from his seat and following Alison downstairs and outside onto the gravel driveway. He kept a questioning eye on her as she stepped forward onto the dew speckled grass.

"Alright, okay. So, you can howl, right?" Alison looked almost crazed as she braced her hands at her sides.

"... Yeah" Robin muttered, rubbing his knuckles up and down his furs.

"Good, well, I'm gonna need you to howl, right now, as loud as you can. Just- just do it" Alison would be gripping his collar right now if she could, and if he had one.

Robin sidestepped away from her, tutting slightly and rolling his eyes. He cracked his neck to the side with an audible 'click' and cut loose with a howl that was eerily similar to a wolf. Alison actually had to cover her ears because of its sheer volume and length; a solid 7 seconds were spent wincing and holding onto her ears desperately.

Finally, Robin ceased his prolonged howl and stepped back towards Alison, still looking at her in confusion and annoyance. Alison nodded in approval and lowered her hands from her ears, a puff of steam flew from her lips into the cold air as she stepped closer to him.

Silence. Just silence. Even Alison began to wonder if this had worked, that she'd just made a complete fool of herself and wasted Robin's time.

"Euck-" Robin grumbled and turned back towards the house with a disregarding flourish of his hand.

"No no, Robin, wait, I-" Alison was about to plead with him to remain with her, until, briefly, from the far distance in the dark, there came a response. A response that Robin had almost forgotten he was so familiar with.

He froze in the doorway, his metaphorical hackles rising and his head turning back towards Alison. His eyes wide and his jaw cracked open. His tongue set uselessly in his jaw as he gawked into the direction of the far away sound. It echoed in his mind for several seconds, and Alison could've sworn she saw a twinkle in Robin's eyes that hadn't been there for thousands of years.

Robin took a few steps forward, back out onto the gravel beside Alison. He diverted his wide eyed gaze to her briefly. Alison didn't need to hear any words from him, she could see it in his eyes. With a smile and a nod from Alison, Robin panted and shot off into the direction of the returned howl, quickly disappearing over the lawns and into the vast expanse of trees.

"Where's he off to? Not one of his primal superstitions again, is it?" The voice over Alison's shoulder was that of Julian. He lingered in the doorway watching as Robin disappeared into the night.

"No. He's just going somewhere for a while. There's- someone he needs to see again"

The journey through the woods seemed to be the longest yet shortest run of Robin's life, or death. He slowed down for nothing, not even attempting to vault the fallen tree trunks or twisted roots that stuck up from the dirt like tombstones. Running straight through them and disregarding the deer drinking from the lake.

Robin could see the tiny pinpricks of yellow lights coming into view behind the trees; he was close to the border. To the section of fence that separated his land from Barclay's. He slowed to a stop just before he could pass through the unseen one way portal that kept him trapped here for thousands of years.

His eyes frantically flicked and scanned all around, even behind him. The snapping of twigs made him regain his focus as he looked straight ahead at the trees, shrouded in darkness. The all great Moonah above seemed to glow brighter for him now, shadows casting in the leaves and branches and the dew glistening on the earth. Robin's pulse would be above human possibility is he still had one, as the snapping sounds continued, right up ahead of him.

A yellow Labrador trotted forward into Robin's view, sniffing the twigs and fallen leaves which carpeted the moist dirt. Robin tilted his head as the creature wagged it's tail at him. Then it turned away from Robin and gave a gentle bark back in the direction from which it came. A second round of snapping twigs began, this time the footsteps were different, heavier. Unnaturally heavy for a dog.

The yellow lab began to get excited, running in circles and padding it's front paws down into the leaves, jumping back and forth, whining. Robin's eyes flicked between the dog and the darkness ahead, when a figure came into his sight. Just another dog. It's muzzle close to the ground and it's eyes frozen. No. No, not a dog. A wolf.

The grey creature moved slowly, cautiously. It's thick fur caught the raise of Moonah, it didn't seem to ruffle in the slightest in the gentle breeze. It looked, for a lack of a better word, ghostly. Robin watched in curiosity and awe as the wolf raised it's head, higher and higher, it looked as though it had began to rise up onto it's hind legs, until another face rose up from beneath the creature's teeth.

The face of a woman.

The wolf was just like Robin; the wolf was dead, as was the woman who now wore it's skin and head. Falling from under the fur, her arm-length hair was a deep, dark chestnut brown, slight silver streaks grew from the hair at her temples and her eyes were as blue and beautiful as a summer sky. Eyes Robin remembered all too well.

Snow fell heavily, winds whipped furiously and the tribe huddled deeper into the cave. Rogh sat across from his sister who focused on the crackling wood and growing flames of the fire by their feet. The pitter patter of little fur boots caught Rogh's attention, he cocked his head back over his shoulder towards the noise.

A tiny girl adorned in leather and pelts stood shivering against the shadowed walls, her eyes wet and her arms trembling as she fiddled with a thin strap of leather around her waist. Rogh shifted where he sat and extended out his arm. The girl approached and sat down under his arm, clutching onto his furs and watching the flames ahead of them.

A tremendous thunder roll shook the cave, and all its occupants jolted and seemed to be contemplating grabbing their nearest spears for an attack. The girl practically dove into her father's furs, hiding away and covering her ears. She soon rose her face from his furs and pointed out towards the stormy night. The early humans spoke not in words, but in gestures; an ancient sign language aided by grunts, growls and whines.

"Why is sky so angry?" Her little hands pointed and gestured, her weeping eyes never leaving her father's.

"We give praise to Moonah and her light. We do everything good, but sky angry. Make everything loud and cold-"

Rogh cut her off with a soft grunt, he pressed his knuckles to the girls forehead gently and his brow twitched.

"Sky fight with Moonah, but Moonah always win. You know Moonah always win. Moonah give us spear, and club, and cave and tribe. Moonah always there~"

Robin stepped closer to the woman, his nose would almost be pressed against the invisible partition between the two lands. His face twitched and he blinked a few times to clear his head of the warm but so very distant memory.

"Pin?" He hadn't spoken that name for so many years, admittedly, he'd almost forgotten it. But he'd guessed correctly, as the woman reached up to lower the skinned wolf head off like a hood. Her eyes brimming with tears, she passed by the yellow lab and approached the small wooden fence. Robin forgot himself for a moment and reached his arm out to embrace his long lost daughter, but his hand passed through the barrier and popped back at himself.

His heart felt like it'd snapped in half again, but it was quickly mended when he saw his now grown up little girl's face illuminated by Moonah's gracious and guiding light. Moonah glowed so brightly just for this moment, and just for them.

She spoke, once more, in the ancient way. Her hands rose and rolled and flicked in a multitude of patterns and rhythms.

"It really you? You been here after all years?"

Robin, Rogh, nodded. Before reciprocating her question in their ancient language.

"Since day I try to tell your mother I still there, when she cry under tree, but hands go through her and me feel sick. Dunno why". Rogh could only stare at his daughter, she looked so much like her mother.

"Moonah make you guardian of land and reunite us finally" Pin huffed and smiled, stepping closer to Rogh, ignoring the invisible wall between them.

"You remember what I do to make you feel safe?..." Rogh questioned, a warm smile spreading on his lips as he rose his hand up to face level with Pin. She smiled and stepped up against the barrier, a childlike and almost giddy smile. Rogh brought his hand toward her forehead and barely, just barely, he imagined that he could feel his daughter's soft and delicate flesh beneath his knuckles, just as it was when she was but a little girl.

#bbc ghosts #robin the caveman #larry rickard #original character #alison cooper #julian fawcett #barclay beg chetwynde

14 notes · View notes

wigglebox · 2 years ago

Text

i surface from time to time waving the chuck won theory flag and i’m back again babeyyyyy

*the following is an utter denial of that heaven endgame and that cas is there so if you don’t agree with that then this post may not be for you!

Let’s talk about this shot.

This shot... makes me feral. Especially knowing 15x04 was the first episode they shot for the season.

This shot is why I just cannot accept the fact that they are actually in Heaven, nor that Cas is there.

Let’s start here. The fireplace mantle.

This mantle is like an adult toy shelf. We’ve already been in Becky’s space where she’s creating things that are like “toys”. They’re models, sets, other merch items. But here, it’s all decoration. You have funko pop stuff action figures — toys. It’s all toys up there. It’s a toy shelf.

While they’re talking about Chuck getting his motivation and inspiration back, he takes the little Sam one down, fiddles with it, and puts it back in the opposite direction.

There is also some Cas ones up there.

It’s a toy shelf.

A lot of folks will say that the presence of Cas at that Road House means he’s in Heaven, but in my one on one with Misha he said that Jimmy was supposed to be dressed as Cas.

To me, this plays into the theory that Chuck just cannot control Cas whatsoever and it’s only gotten worse as time goes on. He can’t even create a fake Cas. The only way to do so is to pull over his vessel who’s in Heaven and dress him like Cas. The last time we saw Jimmy he was not wearing the coat and tie. So putting him in this outfit would have really signaled to us that something is wrong.

More on that in a bit. Stick a pin in that. It’s a big reason why I don’t believe Cas is with Dean by the end, nor do I want him to be.

But going back to the toy shelf — look at this at the end.

I always forget her family photo is on this toy shelf.

In talking with friends about the Chuck Won theory, I use the metaphor of Chuck putting Dean and Sam up on the ‘toy shelf’ bc he’s done playing with them. Much like this toy shelf here.

But that does not mean they’re dead. And this family portrait up there is why.

Chuck by the end of the episode Thanos’ed Becky’s family and then her. But before he dusts her, they have this exchange:

BECKY: No! The kids.

CHUCK: Oh, don’t worry. They’re not dead. They’re just away.

Sam and Dean aren’t dead, they’re just away. They’re put back up on the shelf. Chuck is done with them.

The shelf itself? The Empty.

My poor friends have had to listen to me ramble and rant about this theory that Chuck and The Empty were working together, and that’s how Chuck managed to get the plot going in his favor.

This right here is why I think that.

The Chess Board TM

Right now the game is not in play. Everyone is set at their starting positions, where they know to be. The position that esablishes their role. Chuck at this point in the narrative doesn’t know where to go or how to start in that direction, so the game is not yet in motion.

But there’s a chessboard regardless right in the foreground of the shot [thanks jackles] and that’s another metaphor I keep mumbling about to my poor friends.

If the toy shelf is The Empty, then the chess board is Chuck’s plan; his game.

In constantly thinking about the Chuck Won theory, I think about who’s left on the field — and no one is.

Chuck managed to get rid of every threat against him by the end of the show. And, if he’s in cahoots with The Empty, then he knows about Cas’ deal. He knows he can’t tell Cas what to do, but he can put Cas in a situation that’d force him to act.

So now we got:

Billie — who already didn’t like the brothers, Dean in particular all that much, antagonized against Dean after Dean hits her with the thingy thing she has idk I can’t spell it. Chuck starts dusting people, Dean thinks it’s her. They have a forced hostile relationship, thus putting Dean in a lot of danger. Chuck knows the only way to contain her is to get the Empty down there to get her but there’s no way to do that — unless —

Cas — Putting Dean in a situation where his life is in danger like that would automatically cause Cas to respond. Chuck may not be able to control him but ‘too much heart’ was always Cas’ problem, and while it’s a strength it’s also a weakness that can be exploited at times. So, put Dean in a position where he’s about to die, Cas is going to call The Empty down to get Billie and sacrifice himself in order to save Dean.

So now Chuck got rid of two threats and they’re gonna be kept there by The Empty who’s working with him.

Jack — The Empty, working with Chuck, is leading Billie on a little bit with this plan that Jack can be Thee Solution TM but here’s how to do it. However, the plan wasn’t actually to defeat Chuck, it was to prime a vessel for him. If you can’t beat Jack, join him — by... possessing him. In my opinion, this season was about preparing Jack to be a vessel, not to defeat Chuck. Why I think this is because Jack had a monolouge at the end of 1519, but the ‘villain�� in 15x20, Jenny, had 8 words. Jack to Chuck is the villain. But also, ironically, Chuck is the villain to OUR protagonists, and Chuck also knows that. So Jack-Chuck got the monologue, and said ‘Chuck [myself] wrote himself into the narrative, that was his mistake.’ So essentially, Chuck nabbed himself a new ride and is off to the races.

Amara — Chuck appealed to her sense of love for humanity and this idea of love as a weakness in general and basically silver tongued his way into getting her to join up with him. How on earth did the boys defeat Chuck when he’s literally at full power now? But anyways.

Michael — I don’t think Michael was AS big of a threat but likely Chuck knew that Michael could be talked into doing the right thing by Adam. But literally just in case as an insurance policy, he feeds Michael and pulls down Lucifer to feed to Jack so Jack can get strengthened up. Adam, his moral compass, is also gone, making it easier.

Dean, Sam — Just... put them back on the toy shelf. They believe they defeated the bad guy, and just go back to life as normal. Almost way too normal. Like a deep regression. Get Dean out of the way first bc his death was always going to be tragic bc Chuck likes that shit. Sam can live his little life or whatever and then he can bite the big one and go join Dean and they have no idea that they aren’t, actually, in Heaven or reality at all.

So that’s the chessboard cleared, and Chuck’s calling Check Mate.

*another side tangent — a lot of folks write off 15x01 to 15x03 but if you take into consideration what was going on, in a broad sense, you get a bunch of souls, trapped in a bubble, trying to escape. And wouldn’t that just be fitting for a continuation?

Some other things I wanted to note:

I don’t believe Cas is in heaven. For one thing, narrative wise, makes no sense. There’s no Empty rescue, there’s no reason to believe he got out on his own. The Empty CAN hold humans, they just don’t default to The Empty. But Billie threatened to throw them in there so — The Empty can hold humans so even Cas’ fading grace wouldn’t have had an impact. In all the times Cas has died we have had to wait a very long time to see him again. There’s just one time, the season 5 finale, where we didn’t. Otherwise: Season 4-5 hiatus, Season 7, Season 7-8 hiatus, season 12-13 hiatus and subsequent episodes etc etc. To me, bringing Cas back for 15x20 kind of dulls the impact of 1518 which was just one episode prior. There’s just 15x19 between them [and no even if there was a 22-23 episode season it’s still not enough time]. There’s no effort made to get him. Plot beat wise, it makes literally no sense for him to just magically appear like haha hey waddup it’s ya boi skinny penis

But also, going along with the Chuck Won theory — Bobby had said that ‘Cas helped’ Jack fix up Heaven. How... in the fuck... did Jack get Cas out of The Empty? How. The Empty hates HATES both of them. ABSOLUTELY Hates them.

Also, Jack said basically he was going to be hands off, and I’d imagine that includes plucking people down from The Empty.

However, you know who does pluck people out of The Empty? Chuck. Though no, I don’t think Chuck took Cas out of The Empty either.

But also, The Empty is loud! Everything is awake! We have no reason to believe it’s not because we weren’t given evidence that anything happened up there. Where we left off was: Cas and Billie taken ALIVE to The Empty which is awake and loud now. Nothing else.

And Jack MADE it loud. The Empty hates Jack, The Empty hates that Cas keeps getting away — they’re not going to just walk in and walk out.

So that made no sense to me.

But also on another note: In 15x02 they managed to sneak in that VERY pointed and thematic line of “You asked what about this is real? We are” from Cas.

Cas is the ONLY one who has escaped the narrative. It’s why Chuck hates him so much. Cas is the beacon of ‘real’. He’s the truth, he’s the antithesis of Chuck. He’s the Free Will guy and Chuck is the Puppet Strings Guy.

The reason why, if the Chuck Won theory is correct, I don’t want Cas in “Heaven” is because I don’t want Dean to ever EVER EVER question if Cas is real or not. I don’t want him, if Cas is rescued and they all live happily ever after, to constantly be worried at night that he’s still locked up somewhere and whatever is happening isn’t actually happening.

Cas has to remain this beacon of truth. Chuck can’t recreate him or make an imitation. Cas has to be able to exist as someone Dean can look at and go ‘Real’. So if Chuck Won is correct, and they’re really not in heaven and it’s all a mirage to placate the boys, then I don’t want Cas there.

I don’t want Cas, The Truth, Reality, to ever be anything other than that.

#other things to note: El Sol beer and Dean commenting on it for like the first time?? i think ever???#The concert was for us not for dean #dean doesn't give any more of a shit about kansas than he does any other 70s band #that's not his favorite band #also in 15x04 chuck spikes the lense twice before he gets his inspiration #anyway this has been brought to you by vyvanse and caffiene #don't do drugs kiddos yayyyy #long post #spn meta #spn spec #all of this to say is that i think in the prequel dean is in this 'heaven' before sam gets there and is pulling on the thread #and wouldn't it just be great that leading into the continuation we get the shot from the bridge but as soon as the cameras are 'off' the #colors go back to gray and blue and dean's like we got work to do #bc he figured it all out WOO #okay i have to go burn this energy off #also like — i know people like the cas is in heaven thing and like the heaven thing #and this isn't to diminish that but to just kind put my thots on paper #or a blog post lol #i know it's sad to think that cas an dean may be apart. but i think maybe bc i'm such a continuation truther #i don't think it'd be like that forever anyway #idk #15x20 felt like dark night of the soul #and not a final thing

156 notes · View notes

inkmemes · 4 years ago

Text

futurama ( 1999 - 2013 ) sentence starters ↪ taken from the animated science fiction show. alter as you see fit ♡

“let's get the hell out of here already! screw history!”

“when you do things right, people won't be sure you've done anything at all.”

“you have to use a light touch, like a safecracker or a pickpocket.”

"stop! the spirit is willing, but the flesh is spongy and bruised."

"she's stuck in an infinite loop and he's an idiot. that's love for you."

"all i know is my gut says maybe."

“i've never seen a super nova blow up. but if it's anything like my old chevy nova, it'll light up the night sky!”

"every christmas my mom would get a fresh goose, for goose-burgers, and my dad would whip up special eggnog out of bourbon and ice cubes."

"what do i look like, a guy who's not lazy?"

“is heaven missing an angel, cuz you've got nice cans!”

“help! a guinea pig tricked me!"

"[name], if i said you said you had a beautiful body, would you take your pants off and dance around a little."

"drugs are for weirdos and hypnosis is for weirdos with big eyebrows."

"[name], it would never work between us. you're a man, and i'm a woman. we're just too different."

“screw you, ill have my own contest. with black jack ... and hookers. forget the contest.”

“ah, she's built like a steakhouse but she handles like a bistro.”

"spare me your space age techno babble, [name].”

"it's sort of a two person pyramid scheme."

"i don't want to live on this planet anymore."

"you were doing well, until everyone died."

“if we hit that bullseye, the rest of the dominoes will fall like a house of cards. checkmate.”

“i am the man with no name. [muse name], at your service.”

“in the game of chess, you can never let your adversary see your pieces.”

"this is the worst kind of discrimination, the kind against me."

"you watched it... you can't unwatch it."

“valentine’s day is coming? aw crap! i forgot to get a girlfriend again!”

"hold on to your dookie, it’s about to get spooky!"

"i'm tired of this room and everyone in it."

"i'm so embarrassed. i wish everyone else was dead."

"you can't just have your characters announce how they feel! that makes me feel angry!"

"i don't have emotions, and sometimes that makes me very sad."

"if, for any reason you're not satisfied, i hate you."

"that young man fills me with hope. plus some other emotions which are weird and deeply confusing."

"i've dreamed about you a lot since you disappeared. what did you want to tell me?"

"what do you think the meaning of life was anyway?"

“you're a pimple on society's ass and you'll never amount to anything!”

“life and death are a seamless continuum.”

“if anyone wants me, i'll be in the angry dome.”

“and the worst part is, i had to have the breakup sex by myself!”

“they said i was dumb, but i proved them.”

“what's the point of living if i can't say ass?”

“i'll be stuffing coal so far down your stocking you'll be coughing up diamonds!”

“we're all pawns in his diabolical game of checkers.”

"wait, i'm having one of those things, a headache, with pictures!"

“sorry, i didn't realize i was already here.”

"guess what you're an accessory to!"

"why does ross, the largest friend, not simply eat the other friends?"

“there's no scientific consensus that life is important.”

"we cooked our shoes in the dryer and ate them! now we're bored!"

“i'm just as important as him. it's just that, the kind of importance i have ... it doesn't matter if i don't do it.”

“oh what a foolish squid i’ve been.”

“my instinct is to hide in this barrel, like the wily fish.”

"that was bad, and you should feel bad!"

"technically correct - the best kind of correct!"

"and here is where i keep my assorted lengths of wire!"

"oh wait, you are serious! let me laugh even harder!"

"i gotta practice my stabbing!"

"that's the saltiest thing i've ever tasted! and i once ate a big, heaping bowl of salt!"

“i apologize for nothing!”

"die young and leave a beautiful corpse! that's what i always say."

"here's to another lousy millennium."

“but i am already in my pajamas.”

“windmills do not work that way. goodnight.”

"you win again gravity."

"when push comes to shove, you got to do what you love, even if it's not a good idea.”

“but existing's basically all i do!”

“when will the killing end?"

"i'll be whatever i want to do."

"the use of words expressing something other than their literal intention. now that. is. irony."

"could you ask a little more sexfully?"

"hooray! i'm useful!"

"awesome. awesome to the max."

"some breaking occurred, the dolly was involved, that's about all we know."

“you want me to do two things?”

i love stealin', i love takin' things!

“i believe that qualifies as ill. at least from a technical standpoint.”

"that was the old me. he's dead now."

"jail ain't so bad; you can make sangria in the toilet. ‘course, it's shank or be shanked."

"one word. thundercougarfalconbird."

"of all my friends, you're the first."

“girls like swarms of lizards, right?”

“i lost it. in a volcano.”

"i'm gonna get you so many lizards!"

"who needs courage when you have a gun?"

“let's go! i've got jelly in my underpants!”

"interesting if true."

“i did do the nasty in the pasty!”

"something tells me i could easily beat those trained professionals."

"the two of you are good friends? but i thought we would be good friends!"

"it's like a party in my mouth, except everyone's throwing up."

“i'm shocked. shocked! well, not that shocked.”

“it's me! no one else look in this mirror!"

“you ever think you only like girls cause you're supposed to?”

"we don't gotta put up with this! we got poli sci degrees."

“sorry, i suffer from a very sexy learning disorder.”

“did somebody say something about a free hot meal?”

“you gotta do what you gotta do.”

"too many bones? not enough cash?"

“hey sexy mama, wanna kill all humans?”

"i don't know how you did that."

"the butter in my pocket is melting!"

"well ... first i got up and had a piece of toast ..."

“i can't wait til i'm old enough to feel ways about stuff.”

“interesting! no ... wait ... the other thing. tedious.”

"i knew you come crawling back, like a bird on its belly!"

“we both know you won't make it halfway before the craving sets in! then you'll come crawling back for another taste of sweet sweet candy. bam!"

“indeed so, most indeededly.”

"and by metaphorically, i mean get your coat."

“[vehicle]'s ready except for this cup holder, and i should have that done in 12 hours."

"stop. stop! i will destroy you." [ bonus if the receiver is doing something mundane to sender ]

“just make a simple cake. and this time, if someone's going to jump out of it, make sure to put them in after you cook it.”

“lies, lies and slander!”

“you raised my hopes and dashed them quite expertly, sir!”

“but going through a divorce together, you can't pretend that didn't bring us closer together.”

“when you say the human body is the most efficient thing to use as a battery, wouldn't anything make a better battery? like a potato? or a battery?”

“i'll have you know that i bejazzle my own underpants!”

“i'm sorry you had to see that, [name], usually i let my sadness fester quietly inside as a mental illness.”

“i'm not drunk, i'm mentally ill! but i agree with what, what you said.”

“this is a cool way to die!”

#rp meme #rp starters #rp sentence meme #rp sentence starters

237 notes · View notes

carewyncromwell · 2 years ago

Text

Badeea 🤝 Carewyn

requested by Anon

Badeea Ali wasn’t the easiest person to befriend. It wasn’t that she wasn’t amiable, of course not -- it was simply that she was so easily contented with setting up her easel and painting by herself that she really didn’t see much need to socializing and pursuing activities and environments where she’d be around other people. Her off-beat, creative personality also sometimes made Badeea a bit more cerebral and dreamier than her more down-to-earth classmates.

Fortunately for Carewyn Cromwell, she was a Slytherin and her two closest family members were Ravenclaws, so she wasn’t afraid of either thinking or dreaming.

“May I watch you work?” asked Carewyn, when she came up behind Badeea.

“Of course,” said Badeea without turning around, her lips curled up in a small smile.

She always said yes to Carewyn, whenever she asked, yet she still kept asking anyway -- out of politeness, Badeea supposed, but she found it rather endearing. Carewyn had always been so sensitive to everyone else’s feelings.

Carewyn settled herself down on the edge of the courtyard fountain and watched Badeea add some blue and violet to the black and white squares on her easel.

“It’s a chessboard, isn’t it?” the Slytherin Prefect asked, after a moment.

Badeea’s eyes brightened as she looked over her shoulder at Carewyn. “Yes! I was inspired after playing a match with Tulip, to try to look at the chessboard from a different perspective.”

“The Chess Team’s getting ready for a competition, isn’t it?” asked Carewyn. “I heard Rowan mention something about it...”

“Yes -- Beauxbatons will be participating too,” said Badeea. “McNully is dearly looking forward to competing against Celine Castillon. She’s supposed to be the best student Wizard’s Chess player in the world.”

Carewyn grinned. “Well, if anyone can win against her, it’s McNully.”

“Yes, he is quite a talented player,” said Badeea, “however much he and Tulip don’t see eye to eye. I am glad that they can play the game so differently, though, and still succeed in their own way. It makes me more certain that I can improve, knowing that McNully’s way is not the only way.”

“I’m sure you can, Badeea,” Carewyn said encouragingly. “Rowan’s said you’ve improved a lot, since you started.”

Badeea beamed.

“I’ve been trying to see my chessboard more like my easel,” she said, gesturing to her incomplete artwork, “with my chess pieces like splashes of paint I’m applying across the board. Each color I dab in only helps form the tapestry I want to create.”

“And every color your opponent adds is something you’ll have to factor into your finished design,” Carewyn presumed.

“Exactly.”

Carewyn beamed too as she regarded Badeea’s unfinished painting.

“It’s really lovely, Badeea,” she said kindly. “It looks like something out of Alice’s Adventure’s in Wonderland.”

“Oh, I love that book,” Badeea said eagerly. “Through the Looking Glass, even more so.”

“Oh, right,” Carewyn recalled, “that one’s an entire metaphor for a chess game.”

“Yes,” Badeea said dreamily. “I wonder if one’s whole life could be a metaphor for a chess game.”

“I hope not,” Carewyn replied. “I’d prefer to have more paths in life than just what my role dictates.”

“Then perhaps your life is more a metaphor for checkers.”

“Or Gobstones. I certainly end up dodging messes more than I would like.”

Badeea laughed as she turned back to her easel again.

“...I should reread Through the Looking Glass,” the artist said, after a moment’s thought. “I have been feeling very much like Alice lately.”

“A pawn amongst Queens and Knights?” asked Carewyn.

“Very much so,” agreed Badeea.

"Mm...I know it’s a bit intimidating, playing with people who are so much more experienced than you.” Carewyn offered her a smile. “But I’m sure you’ll become a Queen yourself sooner or later, just like Alice did, if you keep improving yourself.”

Badeea’s black eyes sparkled a bit when she smiled. “That’s sweet of you to say, Carewyn.”

She turned back to her painting, mixing the white and violet shades on her palette to create a rather pretty lavender.

“I want to evoke kind of a surreal feel,” she said, “something strange and new, with no logic at all -- but nothing sinister...more fantastical. Do you know any songs, for that?”

Carewyn beamed. “Sure.”

She leaned her hands behind her on the edge of the fountain and gave her friend some musical accompaniment.

“Picture yourself in a boat on a river With tangerine trees and marmalade skies... Somebody calls you -- you answer quite slowly -- A girl with kaleidoscope eyes...

Cellophane flowers of yellow and green Towering over your head... Look for the girl with the sun in her eyes, And she's gone.

Lucy in the sky with diamonds... Lucy in the sky with diamonds... Lucy in the sky with diamonds... Ah...”

Badeea smiled contentedly as she continued to paint, Carewyn’s song the perfect accompaniment for what she had in mind.

Friendship Drabble Prompt!

#friendship drabbles #hphm #hogwarts mystery #badeea ali #carewyn cromwell #my writing #tulip karasu

8 notes · View notes

firewoodfigs · 3 years ago

Note

Hi!! Could you do "It was a hospital bed, and A slipped in carefully to lie beside B all night" for a Royai fic from that prompt list? Thank you!! ❤️❤️

hello anon!! thanks for the prompt aaaah I had a lot of fun toying with it in between work and the other shenanigans that have been cropping up this week <3 I hope you don't mind the somewhat unusual ending ahaha I dimly recall writing a few other fics indirectly responding to this prompt (here and here!) so I wanted to try something slightly different from my usual fare 👉🏻👈🏻 part of this was also originally from a two-shot I'm working on, tweaked to fit the prompt hehe. I hope you enjoy!!! 🥰

+++++

Riza can think of a million reasons why hospitals are awful.

First, the food. She’s not sure if it’s as nutritious as they make it out to be; there are times when she wonders if it’s even edible. She’s had worse, of course - hospital food isn’t as bad as ration bars - but she’s quickly getting tired of eating plain yoghurt and bland porridge every day, for every single meal.

Second, the stench. Riza hates that every inch of the place smells like a victim of obsessive cleanliness; she has to resist the urge to upchuck every time the door opens and the smell of chemicals and antiseptic filters in like an unwanted guest.

Third, the fact that she’s sharing a room with a man who, at this point, is behaving more like a cat on hot bricks than a disciplined soldier is quickly driving her insane. She’d readily agreed to be his caretaker, of course; Riza doubts there’s anyone else capable of dealing with his antics and ever-growing anxiety. But after hearing him sigh and toss and turn in his bed for the fifty-eighth time that night (she’d counted, because she was bored out of her wits, and there was nothing else she could do other than sleep or stare at the ceiling, per doctor’s orders), Riza decides she’s just about had enough.

She looks at him from her bed. He’s presently engaged with twiddling his thumbs, thinking out loud.

Riza sighs and rises from her bed quietly. She brings the IV stand along with her - an unnecessary inconvenience - and carefully slips into his bed once she’s made sure that the tubes and wires connected to them are tangle-free.

“I never pegged you as an opportunist, Lieutenant,” he murmurs, despite her best efforts to be discreet. “Sleeping with your commanding officer while he’s blind?”

“You could always court martial me later, sir,” Riza deadpans. “Now scoot over.”

Luckily, he obliges without much retort.

“Your wish is my command.”

Riza huffs. She adjusts the thin, scraggly piece of linen that the hospital justifies as a blanket - another downside of this shitty place - and makes sure he’s probably covered, warm.

“Three words,” she mutters.

“Eight letters?”

“Twelve, actually.”

Roy raises a brow. “What could it be?”

“Would you like to wager a guess, sir?”

“Not really.”

“You’re an idiot,” she says. Roy laughs, and it’s a tiny little sound that is so discordant with his current mood, but it’s at least genuine. “Now go to sleep.”

“Alright, alright.”

He stops fidgeting, for a while. Riza closes her eyes and attempts to fall asleep - and she actually does, for a while - at least until she hears the sheets rustling again, the movement and tension coming from beside her. She groans softly.

“You should sleep, sir.”

She feels him stiffen. Roy smiles sheepishly, looking right through her like she’s not there. It still unnerves her how this is probably going to be their new normal: him without his sight. Her as his eyes.

“Sorry.”

Riza frowns. An apology is not the answer she wants. What she wants is for him - or them both, actually - to sleep and rest and properly recuperate so that they can have a speedy recovery, so that they can get out of here as soon as possible.

“Bad dreams?” she asks, because it’s the exact same thing that’s been haunting her. (She’s lucky her throat makes it impossible for her to scream or kick up a fuss; she’d hate for Roy to stumble blindly through the room in what he probably thinks is an act of chivalry and/or heroism.)

He shrugs.

“Then and now,” he offers. His smile fades, and he lapses into an unexpected moment of vulnerability. “Hard to differentiate between day and night nowadays, too.”

And because Riza doesn’t know what to say, she simply brushes her knuckles against his.

Roy returns the gesture, drawing indiscernible patterns on the back of her hand with his bandaged one.

“Well, it’s almost midnight now, sir.”

He lets out a small laugh, but it’s painfully hollow.

Riza shifts slightly. It’s a bit of a tight squeeze - hospital beds are clearly not meant for two persons (or anything inappropriate) - but it doesn’t bother her all that much. She just wishes there’s more she can do, to comfort him. Make him feel a little less gloomy.

“It feels like I’ve been sleeping for years.”

“If it helps reduce the incidents of you falling asleep during office hours, then you should get more sleep now, while you can.”

Roy turns, like he’s searching for her, even though there’s not much closer she can be at this point. He exhales shakily. She feels his hand trembling against hers, and responds with a gentle caress. (She knows he’s still feeling guilty, probably berating himself internally about their predicament, about what transpired beforehand. And to be fair, there’s a part of her that’s still angry about all that's happened underground. They’ll probably have to talk about it, at some point, but probably not now — not when they’re both still drugged up and only half-lucid.)

“Humour me, Lieutenant.”

“What?”

“I can’t sleep,” he confesses. Dimly, Riza notes that his voice has taken on a somewhat petulant edge — like a child complaining about their bedtime, but she doesn’t comment on it. Being nearly bedridden for a week is enough to drive her nuts, too. “I’ve tried counting sheep and all that shit, and it’s just — it’s not working.”

Riza sighs. She’s tired, yes, but she’s also aware that she’s probably not going to get any sleep at this rate. She tries to think of ways to stave off his restlessness. Reading is one — she can probably bore him into sleep with a Xingese recitation (she’s gotten pretty good at that lately), but she’s technically not supposed to be talking much. Alcohol is another, but neither of them are supposed to be drinking (and besides, the only form of alcohol available in hospitals isn’t meant for human consumption). Maybe chess, then. She’s not particularly keen on playing a game of chess, now (because she just wants to sleep), but she thinks it’ll help exhaust some of his boundless energy.

“We could play a game of chess, if you want. Breda was kind enough to drop a vinyl board here in the afternoon.”

“I can’t see —“

“I’ll tell you where I move my pieces.”

He frowns, clearly not liking the idea. “You’re not supposed to be talking much, Lieutenant.”

“I’m fine,” she insists, turning to pour a cup of water for herself before continuing. “I won’t have to speak much — unless you’re being a nuisance or a cheat or a fraud.”

He laughs. “I’ll be none of those things, Lieutenant.”

“Good.”

She sets up the board on his bed and helps him sit up. Riza lets him play white.

“It’s your move, sir.”

“You’ve made yours?”

“No. You’re playing white.”

“Tough. It’ll be more embarrassing if I end up losing.”

Riza smiles. “Well, we don’t know that yet, sir.”

He opens with pawn to e4. She helps him move his pieces and parrots her movements back to him. Pawn to e4, too. Pawn to d4. Same here. A closed game, not quite like his usual aggressive style of playing.

Riza watches as he frowns with intensity. It’s probably more a test of memory than strategy for him at this point. She wonders if there’s a way he can adapt to chess, to the military’s utilitarian (and frankly unsympathetic) demands now that his sight’s impaired.

(Life is so unlike chess, Riza thinks, in spite of Roy’s silly metaphors that postulate otherwise. The rules are never fixed, and the universe is always rife with uncertainty. It’s not like chess, where you can predict your opponents’ moves if you get good enough. Neither of them had expected that he’d be here right now, losing sleep and contemplating life over a chessboard while blind.)

He clucks his tongue, reciting a series of movements from memory. The Blackmar-Diemer. Riza smiles indulgently.

Still as aggressive as ever, sir.

Of course.

The game quickly becomes a round of blitz, and though he manages to open his lines and mount a rather decent attack, it’s clear that he has trouble recalling after the eighteenth move. It's still an impressive feat, though. Better than the average layperson.

“Check,” Riza announces, conversationally. Technically, she’d had the advantage, both on the board (and in real life). It shouldn’t really count, and besides, checkmate isn’t her objective — it’s to get her commanding office to sleep.

“Well-played,” Roy hums. He’s strangely still in his bed as he closes his eyes, rubbing at his temples — presumably to ease off an oncoming migraine. It happens a lot, when he’s in deep thought, when he’s over thinking. Thinking too much for his own good. “I need to work on my recall, I think.”

“I think so too, sir.”

He laughs, but the sound is again empty, foreign. It is so at odds with his usual smirks and unbridled laughter (when he’s laughing at someone else, or a joke made at somebody’s expense), like there’s an ache beneath the surface that she cannot reach.

Roy turns slightly, bumping into his dethroned king as he adjusts himself on the bed.

She blames the sudden, uncharacteristic urge to cry on her drugged-up system.

(Riza doesn’t think she’ll ever get used to how uncommunicative his eyes are. He’s always regarded each and every one of his subordinates with respect and meaning and gratitude, but he’d simply looked over the unit as if taking inventory when they had come by earlier.

But she’ll make do, Riza thinks. She has to. She’s always known him in a way nobody else has, in a deeply intimate way, like a book she’s memorised by heart.)

They fall silent for a few minutes. His lips part a little - she knows he’s about to say something - but it snaps shut again, like he can’t bring himself to say the words.

Riza simply waits for him, like she always has; holding onto his held breath like it's the last thread of hope. She leans into his touch a little closer than necessary.

I’m right here, even if you can’t see me.

Roy smiles.

“I hope I won’t forget your face, Riza.”

#royai #royai fanfic #royai fic #sorry my lunch break is almost over so I gotta go back to work LOL but I will come back and edit this later AHAHAHAH #my new brand is 'excessive usage of chess metaphors' and man. it shows.......#lovely anon <3 #have a great week anon!!! mwahmwahmwah!!!!!!#reblogs and comments are always appreciated :")

102 notes · View notes

serpentinesomebody · 4 years ago

Text

Why Janus Planned The Entirety Of His Own Acceptance Arc From The Very Beginning

I think that Janus planned everything. From his reveal all the way to POF, he mapped it all out like a game of chess. And I think I finally know why, too.

So let’s start at his goals. He represents deceit, and has the goal of self-preservation. Additionally, however, he wants the one thing all sides want: for Thomas to listen to them.

Janus’ introduction is very different from Virgil’s. Thomas didn’t even know about him. And when things settle down, we get an idea as to what his first impression of Janus is: he’s scared of him, and skeptical, too. He doesn’t trust him. But this is exactly what Janus wanted. But why? Why present himself as a frightening and untrustworthy side? How could that possibly benefit him or Thomas?

Well, let’s look at what would have happened if just appeared and introduced himself as, well, himself. No disguises, no theatre scenario, none of that.

Well for one, Thomas probably wouldn’t be as afraid of him. What scared Thomas so much, I think, was that Janus was able to disguise himself for almost half an hour and he didn’t even know. And until Patton appeared at the end, he truly believed that he had no morality, that it was Janus the entire time. He gets the impression that this new side can manipulate him, and quite easily, too. So not only does he not trust this new side, but he’s scared of him, too.

But if Janus introduced himself upfront? Thomas still wouldn’t trust him, but there wouldn’t be much fear either. Thomas would likely just see him as a simple nuisance. He just doesn’t naturally invoke the same fear that Virgil does. Without the fear factor, he only has distrust.

But why would Thomas not trust him if he introduced himself upfront?

Well, he has multiple things going against him. His primary function is deceit. Not exactly helping his case. But let’s say they look past that. Well, he also has a ‘snake face,’ which really doesn’t make him come across as an honest, well-meaning person. Lastly, pretty much all the sides do not like him. Virgil makes his full-on hatred pretty obvious, and Logan certainty doesn’t seem to like him much either. Patton sees him as an antagonist, his opposite. Roman appreciates his charm, but still sees him as a creepy villain nonetheless. All the sides are against him, so how could he convince Thomas to trust him?

But if trying to intimidate Thomas into listening to him won’t work, and being honest won’t work, what will?

Deceiving him.

He knows that even if he’s honest, Thomas still will not trust him. So if Thomas isn’t going to trust him either way, he needs to find a way to manipulate the situation so that even if Thomas won’t listen to him at the moment, he still has control over the situation.

The first episode with Janus goes perfectly according to plan.

One thing that always struck me as odd was that this was the situation that Janus decided he needed to be involved in? Some texting drama?

But that’s exactly what Janus needed. He needed something small, something he could ensure he could manage. If he had made his first appearance in SVS, that would be way too much for Thomas to take in at once, and Thomas wouldn’t have any clue as to what Janus was like. Janus introduced himself over something minor, something insignificant that he wasn’t truly needed for, for the sole purpose of leaving an impression. He meant to reveal himself at the end.

Now let’s move on to SVS. This time, Janus drops the disguise much earlier. And it’s so, so obvious that this was intentional. Janus says things he knows Logan would never say. Hell, Janus doesn’t often use metaphors himself. He proposes hypothetical situations and uses similes, but when does he ever say anything like ‘straight from the horse’s mouth’?

So if he dropped the disguise so early, why even bother doing it in the first place? Simple: he just needed to buy himself a bit more time before Logan came. He needed to ensure that the courtroom scenario was already set up. Janus knew that Logan would be upset that he wasn’t included in a courtroom scenario and would possibly try to insert himself into one of the roles that Janus didn’t want him in.

This begs the question, though, why have Logan on the sidelines?

Because Janus knows that Logan is an intelligent and professional person, and would likely point out that the trial wasn’t exactly following legal code. So, Janus benches him.

As for Patton, well, it just makes the most sense that he would be in the position he was. Patton is the one that Janus is trying to oppose.

But what about Virgil? Why have Virgil as the jury? Why decide that the one person who hates him the most, who is the most biased against him, gets to decide who wins the case? Simple: Janus knows that Virgil will still let him win the case. But how does he have so much faith in that? Because he knows Virgil. They have history, and by now, Virgil’s actions are predictable to him. Virgil is a pessimist by nature, and blunt. He won’t lie to Thomas and say that he thinks he’s a good person just to spare Thomas’ feelings. Janus knows that despite what Virgil thinks of him, he will judge Thomas as guilty.

As for Roman? Janus may not know Roman as well as Virgil, but Roman is predictable. When it comes to morals, he will follow Patton, no matter what. He has to in order to keep up his image as the hero. So, Janus knows that Virgil will judge Thomas as guilty, and he knows that Roman will sentence Thomas to go to the wedding because he knows that Roman knows that that’s what Patton wants.

That was his entire goal for that episode: ensure that Thomas goes to the wedding.

And the reason he needs Thomas to go to the wedding is because it sets the stage for POF.

Janus knows that Thomas will be upset after the wedding, and he knows that Thomas’ mood will have an effect on Patton. His first goal in the episode, aside from bringing up a few facts, is to get Patton to snap. He needs Thomas to see that sometimes Patton doesn’t always know everything, that things are more complicated then that. And, more importantly, he needs to present himself as the hero this time.

As I said, Janus knows that Roman will side with Patton no matter what. So if Roman is by Patton’s side, then who’s there for Thomas?

He is.

Janus presents himself as the hero. This scene is such a crucial moment. He’s clearly trying to portray the image that he is on Thomas’ side.

But if that’s the case, then why does he dodge Patton’s attack and let Thomas get hit instead?

He feels like he has no other choice. Patton is still insisting that it’s dangerous for Thomas to take self-care too far. The only way Janus can get Patton to see that he’s hurting Thomas is...to let Patton literally, physically hurt Thomas. This, I think, is probably the most difficult thing Janus has ever had to do thus far. Thomas’ safety and happiness is his one goal, there is no one who he puts before Thomas, not even himself.

It’s the hardest thing Janus has had to do, but it works. Patton finally realizes, finally admits that he doesn’t know everything.

Janus is so close to getting accepted.

But there’s one problem left: Roman.

Roman doesn’t trust Janus. And here’s the thing: Janus needed Patton to accept him, yes, but Roman was also a crucial component. I don’t think Janus’ intention was to antagonize Roman, rather, I think he wanted Roman’s approval. Pushing Thomas’ hero down doesn’t help anyone, especially Thomas. He has Patton’s approval, now he needs Roman’s. He needs Roman, Thomas’ hero, to see him as one too. And that, that is where he made a horrible mistake.

He tried to get Roman to take a liking to him in the courtroom, not by much, of course, since he still wanted Roman to sentence Thomas to the wedding after all, but enough for Roman to not be completely against him.

But he screwed up. Roman realized that Janus’ praise in the courtroom wasn’t 100% honest, and now he full-on hates Janus.

The way Janus tries to fix this, I think, is by giving his name. Granted, I’m sure that he would have done it sometime during POF anyway, but he thinks that it’s enough to change Roman’s mind and it isn’t.

This, I think, is the real reason why Janus is so harsh when Roman makes fun of his name.

What he expects is going to happen, is that Roman is going to warm up to him a bit. Or at the least, that he’ll stop spiraling/panicking and take a minute to truly listen to Janus, perhaps allow him to explain himself.

But that’s not what happens. And Janus just snaps.

Because he was so close, so close to wrapping up his acceptance in a perfect, neat little bow and it is ruined.

Sure, he still had his relationship with Virgil and Logan to work on, but if Patton and Roman were on his side, Thomas would be too. And it would be three against two, meaning he’d likely get a permanent seat at the table. He could fix his relationship with Virgil and Logan later, but he needed a seat at the table. Yes, his plan is kinda rushed, but he wants to get to Thomas as fast as possible so he can help him with things like this in the future-things where there could be even more important things at stake. I’m sure he didn’t want to hurt anyone, but he felt like he had to go with this plan in order to help in the long-term.

But Roman laughs at his name and he is so frustrated, so tired, and he doesn’t know how else he can try to get Roman on his side and he snaps.

Afterwards, you can tell he regrets it. He knows he messed up.

And when Thomas says that Roman is still his hero, Roman turns to Janus in a silent question of ‘is he lying?’ But Janus interprets it as, ‘is he telling the truth?’ and so he nods. And when he sees that Roman is upset, he realizes that there was a miscommunication between them, but before he can do anything about it, Roman is already gone.

TLDR: All of Janus’ actions are planned to get him a seat at the table, except for when he snaps and calls Roman ‘the evil twin,’ and fucks up majorly.

#sanders sides #ts janus #sanders sides analysis #sanders sides theory #SVS #POF #CLBG #tbh im not 100% sure I believe this myself but I had an idea and idk it’s just interesting to think about #also #I know a few people have said he revealed himself on purpose one one or more of the times he appeared #but I’ve never seen anyone elaborate on it in depth so im just throwing my own thoughts no one asked for into the ring

176 notes · View notes

appleinducedsleep · 4 years ago

Text

Never Let Me Go discussion @readerbookclub

Never Let Me Go is a 2005 dystopian science fiction novel written by Kazuo Ishiguro. The story is narrated by Kathy H., who describes herself as a carer (and has been for twelve years), talking about looking after organ donors. Her story often returns to Hailsham, a boarding school in England, where she grew up with her friends and where the teachers are known as guardians.

Review: 🌟🌟🌟 I liked the writing style, the first person narrative really worked in this story. It might not be everyone's cup of tea though. The theme is interesting enough, but the universe itself is underdeveloped and you finish this book with more questions than answers.

Next up *spoilers* :

For our March book club book, a new set of questions was provided by @readerbookclub (thank you!)

Is this a book you would have otherwise read? If not, are you more open to similar books in the future? Are dystopian novels something you typically enjoy? How would you say this book compares to other dystopian literature?

I do like dystopian stories, though I don’t read them regularly and it’s pretty much all YA or George Orwell books. Maybe that’s why the stories I read were more about changing the established order. This story was not about changing anything, it was bleak and passive and nostalgic about it.

Other people already pointed out how frustrating this mind-set is, and I absolutely agree. Perhaps because the big scandal that rocked the country wasn’t even about clones rebelling, but about genetics being used to make super-humans. The clones themselves were an after-thought, not even considered human anyway.

If you had to describe this book in three words, what would they be?

Passive, tragic, trapped.

Do you think the donors are a metaphor for something in the real world?

According to the interview, they aren’t. It’s about love, friendship and mortality. It’s easy to put some sort of meaning into it though. Whether it be organ donations or a religious theme. But it’s not. More the pity. Yet it was obvious that the universe wasn’t really thought out. It didn’t seem to extend beyond Hailsham and England, and even the way the donations worked was kept vague but inescapable.

Did the story play out in the way you expected, or did it surprise you? Which scene stood out most to you? Why?

So I actually had read this book before, but didn’t remember it. The first chapter already was familiar enough though. The more I read, the more I already knew how all the big plot points would play out. Still I wanted that referral to work out... and even that dream, the referral itself, would have bought Kathy and Tommy only three or four years. That’s how little they allowed themselves to hope.

That said, several scenes were pretty heart-wrenching and memorable, I’m picking three:

1) Ruth not knowing how to play chess, pretending she did, and then freezing Kathy out when Kathy asked her to teach her (p.53), was not even the first red flag, but it was significant. How different would Kathy’s life at Hailsham been had she struck up a friendship with Moira right there and then, instead of living for Ruth’s approval. I thought that really reflected childhood friendship though.

2) Tommy catching Kathy looking at porn mags (p.134), and realizing it went much, much deeper, though the truth wouldn’t come out until the Norfolk trip, where they would find the lost cassette (which was also memorable). Tommy was so underappreciated in this book.

3) But the moment on page 264, just suckerpunched me; Miss Emily, this fighter in the trenches, said:

“Make no mistake about it, my child, Marie-Claude is on your side and will always be on your side. Is she afraid of you? We’re all afraid of you. I myself had to fight back my dread of you all almost everyday I was at Hailsham. There were times I’d look down at you all from my study window and I’d feel such revulsion...” She stopped, then something in her eyes flashed again. “But I was determined not to let such feelings stop me doing what was right. I fought those feelings and I won. Now, if you’d be so good as to help me out of here, George should be waiting with my crutches.”

What a hero, indeed. Where do you go from there? Even your fiercest supporter flinches back from your existence.

And how does that make sense in the narrative... why prove these children have a soul at all, if you think them so unnatural? How can you say this to your two former charges, who you watched grow up, whose art you took, and comforted when they couldn’t produce any? Who exactly is the real monster here?

What did you think of the authors style? Have you read any of their books before? Would you read their work in the future? How did you feel about Kathy as a narrator? Do you think first person narration suited this story?

The author had a way of making the horrible absolutely mundane. There was almost more emphasis on the teenage squabbles than on the organ donation. It makes sense, the writer said this story was supposed to be about love, friendship and mortality, and there was something unsettling about this creeping horror in the background.

While I mostly enjoyed Kathy’s way of narrating, sometimes it jumped around a lot. Like ‘to understand [this moment], we have to go back to [some other moment]’. Sometimes I just wanted to understand the story about the vegetable patch without jumping through three memory hoops.

@elfspectations also talked about how Tommy would be an interesting narrator, and while I don’t think this story would have lend itself to multiple narrators (I’m so glad there was just the one!), it’s an interesting thought.

Would you say the characters’ personalities changed throughout the story? If so, how did you feel about these changes? The characters were often unnecessarily mean in the way they talked to one another. Why do you think that is? Did this affect your sympathy for them?

Not until the actual donations, except for Tommy. Like Ruth suddenly became weak as a kitten, and Kathy felt bad for kicking her when she was down, but still ganged up on her with Tommy. Ruth was always the one that needed attention, the one who would lie and manipulate and wanted to be special. I can’t blame her exactly. Growing up with the knowledge that you’re just on earth to give away your organs... like I can’t blame Ruth for wanting some control in her life, for wanting to be special, to be singled out by a guardian. Maybe I’m reading too much into it, but Tommy had his meltdowns (he developed as a character though, because he mostly grew out of this), while Ruth fiercely tried to cling to control, and Kathy found safety in being the objective observer. Still, Ruth is just unredeemable after she admitted to just wanting to keep Kathy and Tommy apart, cheating on Tommy and pretend Kathy was a freak for her sexual urges. She gave them Madam’s address, but too little, too late.

So for a book supposedly about friendship, I felt the friendships were actually pretty terrible. Tommy was often the butt of the joke, even by Kathy. Something that should have been innocent teasing, often didn’t feel that way. Still, Kathy and Tommy’s friendship was the one positive note in this whole book.

If you could ask the writer a question, what would it be?

However did Ruth and Tommy end up together? I want that scene, because their relationship didn’t make any sense to me. Ruth was, of course, a terrible, terrible friend, and wanted to keep Tommy away from Kathy, but this whole thing just baffled me anyway. Everyone deserved better (and with everyone I only mean the clones).

#readerbookclub #books #booklr #never let me go #kazuo ishiguro #miss emily can go to hell #book photography #quotes #my books #never let me go discussion #book discussion

28 notes · View notes

mego42 · 3 years ago

Note

Director's Cut for this part of Monster, pls:

Even without the preternatural quiet, the frozen stillness of the air, he’d know he was alone. There’s a pressure shift, a settling, sinking feeling, like a tempest’s passed. An uncanny calm before the next one arrives.Rio rolls onto his back, hissing through his teeth as the sheets make contact. He has a split-second, vivid flash of hot water, sharp nails, torn skin, and Elizabeth—always Elizabeth—on his tongue, in his ear, his nose, his arms.His medallion bumps against the scar over his lung. He grunts. So much for protection against storms.It’s not like he’s ever really believed in any of that shit, anyway.She’s gone now. She’s left.He’s relieved.

okay, so, director's commentary on the end of your monster looks like mine. strap in, there's a lot going on in this fic which is hysterical when you consider it is technically porn without plot.

the guts of the fic is structured in a chess-like fashion with beth and rio both making moves and retaliating and the rawness and intimacy of the game getting increasingly more intense as they go.

it all builds to a tie ending with both of them "losing" bc they were fully confronted and unable to hide from who they are to and what they want from each other, but also winning because it allowed them to connect in a genuine and painfully honest way they haven't been able to but both want almost as much, maybe more than they don't want.

then the challenge became keeping it feeling true to character and given where i set it in canon (sort of ambiguously post mid-s4 ish but not too tightly tethered so it could work beyond a specific point in canon without, hopefully, getting immediately jossed), it didn't feel right for either of them to be like, remotely ready for that level of honesty and self-reflection, so beth bails and rio's relieved bc boy howdy was that all a lot to take in and both of them tend to hide and dissimilate when initially confronted with Emotions.

the relief specifically was about making it clear that this was another point of connection and balance between them, a way they understand each other without even meaning to. i wanted it to be kind of an inverse of 209 where they had this tender, romantic, vulnerable moment that ended with both of them on wildly different pages and hurting. instead monster is this ragged, messy, explosive vulnerability that ends with them completely on the same page even though they're apart.

on a more granular detail level, i ended up structuring a lot of the fic with the st christopher legend. st christopher's a christian saint with an interesting almost sort of catch-all aspect to his patronage. on paper, he's the patron saint of travelers but what he protects against has been sort of stretched to include all sorts of things tangentially related to travel—in monster's case, the most relevant one being storms and sudden death caused by storms.

(there's also a whole thing with st christopher supposedly having a monstrous face and being like, 7 ft tall so the overall effect of him was kind of alarming that weaves in with the other thematic throughline of beth and rio both being a complimentary kind of monster on their own but especially about each other and recognizing that point of connection, hence the title)

i used storm imagery as a descriptive motif throughout (the overwhelming nature, the drama and violence and unpredictability and danger all feeling, you know, appropriately them) and used the st christopher necklace rio wears throughout (i'm assuming it's st christopher anyway, given his name and the thematic appropriateness it seems like a safe assumption) to signal different aspects of the story. the medallion as a sort of touchstone and grounding mechanism and/or signal when things start to get dangerous/real/honest, and the chain as a literal and metaphorical tether tying the two of them together.

so, the bit that you pulled out is me tying all of that together and off the end!

send me a fic/excerpt/line/what have you and I'll give you the director's commentary

#ngl as far as gg is concerned monster is probs my magnum opus or whatever #i'm stupid proud of how it came out #and also forever amused that i wrote a multi-level thematically structured 26K pwp #based around a trope basically everyone put on their nope list specifically bc everyone put it on their nope list #what is wrong with me science has yet to explain #anyway #your monster looks like mine #fic director's cut meme #ask me stuff #shut up meg #my fic

10 notes · View notes

dothwrites · 5 years ago

Text

15.13 coda--the price we pay

So it’s true, when all is said and done--grief is the price we pay for love.--E.A. Bucchianeri

---

Jack’s door closes with a small snick. Castiel watches it close. The thin barrier of wood separates him from his boy, but it doesn’t keep away the muffled sounds of sobs and sniffles.

The moment had lasted an eternity, Jack looking at Dean through tear-bright eyes, begging for forgiveness, Dean staring back down at Jack, his jaw set and eyes gimlet hard. Dean feels things more deeply than anyone else, Castiel had told Jack. He’d meant it. Joy, anger, guilt...Dean feels, so much all of the time, that it spills out onto anyone else who gets in his way.

What he hadn’t told Jack was that that was the reason that he loved Dean. Was because he felt. As an angel, a being who was never intended for emotion, the sight of a human soul, writhing with emotion so bright that it managed to shine through hell, was enough to captivate him. He’d been drawn towards Dean, helpless as a moth towards flame, and there he’d stayed, caught in Dean’s orbit. There he weathers the tempest of Dean’s anger as well as the brightness of his joy.

And he’s had time, firsthand, to experience to balm of Dean’s forgiveness.

Dean’s hand had descended towards Jack and Castiel had hated Jack’s flinch. Hated it for Jack, hated it for Dean. He knew that that flinch hurt Dean, reinforced what Dean had suspected all along--that he was nothing but a brute, nothing but a monster.

But Dean’s hand had landed on Jack’s shoulder, just a moment before Dean was on his knees, pulling Jack into a fierce embrace. “It’s ok kid,” he said, voice thick and gravel-rough. “You’re ok.”

Sam had knelt alongside them, his long arms wrapping up Jack and Dean alike, and Castiel...His work was done, in a sense. He’d facilitated Jack’s return to the Winchesters, seen his soul restored. Gotten one step closer to the ultimate goal. So Castiel had taken a few small steps out of the room, silently. No one had seen him go, no one had noticed his presence, until Dean and Sam walked out. Sam’s eyes were glassy, his face flushed. Dean’s mouth was flat, but there was something calm and peaceful in his eyes, something that had been missing for long weeks.

Anger takes a toll on the soul.

And then they’d walked away, leaving Jack’s door to close behind them. And Castiel watches--Watches his boy deal with the pain of his actions, watches the Winchesters walk away. After a moment, Castiel follows.

Dean glances up when he enters the room. Something hard glints at him. It reminds Castiel of the pain of the word idiot when it comes from Dean’s lips, the curling realization that no matter his contribution, he’ll never be valued.

Castiel is still a soldier, first and foremost. He understands the necessity of sacrifice, knows that in chess, sometimes you have to lose pieces in order to win.

He just wishes that Dean would care a little more when he’s finally taken off the board.

---

Cas looks at him with wide eyes and Dean knows that they’re going to have to talk. Probably sooner than later, judging by the stubborn little purse to his mouth. Dean takes another sip from his beer (those bastards drank them down to almost nothing, greedy little sons of bitches) and luxuriates in the swallow. He’ll put off this conversation as long as he can.

He still doesn’t know, how to put all the concern that he feels, the worry that continuously scrabbles at the inside of his skull, into words that don’t spit and fizzle like poison. He’d seen the minute little flinch in Cas’ face when he said idiot, just like he’d seen the Jack’s flinch when he reached out towards him. He’s doing better, he’s trying, but what the hell does it say about him that the people that he loves best in the world literally draw back from him?

“I’m going to bed,” Sam says, his voice still scratchy and rough. Dean knows that the deal with Jack hit him hard, but there’s something else there too. Sam’s continuous glances at his phone tell a fairly convincing story. No doubt there’s a series of texts from Eileen waiting for him.

Which would be fine, Dean’s all aboard the good ship Saileen, except that Sam’s departure leaves him alone with Cas. And Cas isn’t leaving or starting the conversation, which means that he’s going to leave Dean to deal with this whole mess.

The silence between them takes on a distinctly stony feel the longer they sit in it. It’s so damned uncomfortable sitting in it, yet breaking it would somehow be worse. Dean will give it to Cas--he’s a passive-aggressive little shit when he wants to be.

After the quiet becomes so uncomfortable that Dean’s teeth are itching, he finally decides to rip the band-aid off in one, vicious tug.

“It was a damn stupid thing, what you did.”

He didn’t mean it to sound like that, he really didn’t. But his intentions are worthless--the words fall harsh and flat between them, like little loaded weapons. Whatever softness might have been lurking in Cas is gone.

“It was the only way to get what we needed.” Cas’ voice is tight with repressed emotion, but the words are enough to spark a wildfire in Dean.

“It was the only--what the fuck man?” he spits. He stands up, his chair skittering backwards across the floor. Its feet scrape against the wood, loud enough to send the hairs rising on Dean’s arms, but he ignores that in favor of focusing on Cas.

“The only way was to go and get yourself killed? Again?”

Try as he might, he can’t erase the image--Cas, slumped motionless in the chair, face gone that particular shade of pale and waxy that Dean knows and wishes that he didn’t. How many times has he been forced to watch Cas die, right in front of him? How many times has he said goodbye? And they’ve been lucky--for every goodbye, there’s always been a Hello Dean waiting, but Winchesters aren’t known for their luck. How long before it runs out? How long before Cas does something so monumentally reckless that there’s no coming back from it?

How long before Dean has to say goodbye permanently?

“It wasn’t like that--”

“It was exactly like that!” Dean’s anxiety and worry spills out of him in a vicious tirade. “Sam and I come back, find you--”

“So you’re the only one who can take pointless risks?” Castiel is standing now, and there’s a dangerous, sharp edge in his voice that Dean should probably heed, but he’s too far gone for that.

“That’s different--” Though it really isn’t, the difference is that Dean is just...Dean, just some schmuck who doesn’t have a trust fund, who doesn’t know any life other than that which cakes blood and dirt underneath his nails. He doesn’t matter, not in the long run. But Castiel...Castiel is made of stardust and the cosmos. It would be a sin, if Dean were left on the world while Castiel ceased to exist.

For a moment Cas is speechless with rage. Then he’s striding over to Dean, pushing an angry finger into his chest, so hard that Dean’s sure there will be small, circular bruises blooming over his skin within the next day or so.

“How dare you? How dare you assume that everyone...that I would be fine without you? How dare you think so little of yourself?”

Dean laughs, a wretched ugly sound. “Yeah? Well, right back at you pal.”

It hits him then, weights falling from the sky: how tenuous their grip on this life is. How any wrong move could be their last. How any of them could be snuffed out in the merest flicker of an instant and nothing of them would be left behind, save grief.

Dean isn’t aware of the series of events that end with him crashing into Cas. He knows that his knees buckle, that he reaches out for Cas, that Cas is there to catch him, steady as ever. He folds himself into Cas, burrowing his nose between the collar of Cas’ shirt and his neck, brushing against warm skin.

“I thought I lost you,” Dean finally says, the words dredged out of him like vomit, coming from somewhere dark and desperate that he keeps inside himself. Cas, his head lolling backward, hands limp on his stomach. Cas, light pouring out of his eyes and mouth, angel blade pierced through his chest...”I thought that I’d lost you again.”

He doesn’t cry, but it’s a near thing as his shoulders shake with the release of pent-up emotion. He tries to crawl away to lick his wounds and hide his shame, but Cas’ arms tighten like a vice around his shoulders, keeping him present.

“I can’t...don’t make me lose you again.” It’s half order, half-plea, but wholly sincere, gasped into Cas’ neck. “You think that you’re fucking expendable, that the ends justify the means, or whatever else your stupid chess metaphors say. But I need you in this with me Cas. I need you with me.”

“And how dare you assume that I don’t feel the same,” Cas answers back. “How dare you think that I could go through this earth without you with me.”

Dean draws back, just enough that he can take Cas’ face in his hands. Cas’ skin is warm against his palms. He can feel the flutter of Cas’ pulse underneath his hands, wild and thready and so very alive. “You ain’t fucking leaving me,” Dean says, before he kisses Cas.

Just before his lips meet Cas’, he thinks that he sees something flicker across Cas’ face. A hint of regret maybe, a deeper secret coiling underneath the surface of those blue eyes.

Dean pushes it aside before he kisses Cas, hard enough to bruise. Permanent.

---

“I do not fear death. I had been dead for billions and billions of years before I was born, and had not suffered the slightest inconvenience from it.”―Mark Twain

#spn spoilers #supernatural #destiel #destiel fic #destiel fanfic #coda fic #15.13 coda #15x13 coda #spn15 #spn season 15 #15.13 #dean winchester #castiel #jack kline #fare thee well spn #welcome to the end #dothwrites

443 notes · View notes

hailbop1701 · 4 years ago

Text

25 Days of FicMas

December 19th prompt: The Magical Adventures of the Santa hat

Word count: 1,581

A Kirkian Christmas Set Up

Sort but cuuuute. Read it, love it, write songs about it. It would have been longer if I didn't feel the strong need for sleep. Remember to drink water and love yourself. Cause I love you. I need you so...now you can't leave me. No returns.

-H❤🖖

No one knew where it came from. The damn thing just showed up a few days before Christmas, and of course Captain James. T Kirk had to wear it. The crew snickered and grinned at the little decoration, “Nice hat sir!” one ensign called out when Jim entered one of the rec rooms with Spock following behind; it was a Tuesday night and Tuesdays were always chess days. Kirk grinned at the young ensign, “It’s in the spirit of the holiday,” he bowed his head a tad letting the ball of the Santa hat sway over his shoulder. You sat in a large comfy chair in the corner with an old fashioned book in your hands, you watched as The Captain and The Commander set up at a table right next to you, “Hey Lieutenant, good read?” Kirk asked casually sending you a kind smile. You shrugged glancing at the front of the book, seeing the title was faded somewhat, “Just some Dickens sir. Like you said the spirit in the holiday and all that,”

Kirk gave you a look, “Jim, (Y/N). Call me Jim when we’re off duty,” he ordered. You rolled your eyes good-naturedly, “of course sir,” you said almost teasingly making Jim groan annoyed. “We’ll get there,” he muttered moving a piece on the chessboard, “Which ghost are you at?” he asked not taking his eyes off of the Commander’s movements. “Present,” you answered absentmindedly as you read; Jim smirked making another move, “Most of all beware this boy, for on his brow I see that written which is Doom unless the writing be erased,” he quoted like he was reading over your shoulder. Raising a single eyebrow you breathed out a laugh, “I’m impressed sir,” you said honestly and Kirk shrugged. “Gotta love the classics, isn’t that right Mr. Spock?”

The Commander looked up from the game in front of him toward his superior, “Yes Captain. I too enjoy old Earth literature. I find the works of George Orwell and Oscar Wilde fascinating,” he said as he moved a rook to the next level of the board. Jim narrowed his eyes in thought, “I love Tolkien personally,” he murmured. You chuckled and nodded, “I knew it! I totally pegged you as a Lord of The Rings fan. Ginly owes me fifty credits,” you grinned at the prospect. Kirk barked out a laugh, “Well I’m glad I could help you out. Let me know if I can do anything else for you,” he winked. You huffed mildly amused but not exactly surprised; Kirk was a known flirt so you didn’t think anything of it. You certainly didn't notice him check the time.

The conversation lapsed into a comfortable silence until Sulu and Chekov collapsed into the chairs by you to watch the ‘exciting’ game going on between The Captain and Commander. “Nice hat sir,” Sulu complimented flicking the white puffball so it swung and smacked Kirk in the face, the man scrunched up his nose in response. He took off the Santa hat and threw it in Sulu’s face with a huff, he moved another piece on the board calling “Check,”

Sulu pulled the hat from his face and secured it on his head with a snicker, “Checkmate,” Spock announced making Kirk curse under his breath. Spock raised a single eyebrow but otherwise said nothing and began to reset the board. Glancing up from your book you saw that Kirk was whispering lowly to Sulu who was grinning madly, ‘Oh this is going to end badly,’ you thought with a snort. Shifting in your chair so your legs were now over the arm you looked up again when the rec room door swished open. Scotty and Uhura were walking through talking about upgrades for the comms relay, Kirk jerked his head toward the CE smirking. Sulu bounced up and whispered hurriedly into Scotty’s ear, “What are you planning Jim?” Uhura asked dryly walking to Spock’s side, arms crossed over her chest she leaned against her boyfriend. You gave her a little wave in greeting before getting back to Dickens.

Scotty grinned at the little plan Kirk had cooked up and gave Sulu a little salute. Hikaru deposited the Santa hat on Scott’s head and watched him scurry out the door. You didn’t notice Sulu casually get close to your chair before it was too late, the helmsman snatched the aged book from your hands and raced out the rec room doors like a bat out of hell. “Damnit Hikaru!” you shouted floundering in your chair. You flipped out of the thing landing on your hands and knees, jeans getting dirty on the floor and mild stinging on your palms didn’t stop you from chasing the man out the door. Uhura stood there shocked and wide-eyed for a moment, “Okay Jim seriously what have you cooked up!” she scolded. She stopped abruptly noticing Spock hadn’t said a word or did his customary eyebrow raise, “you’re in on it,” she accused looking between the Captain and his second in command. “Let’s just say we know a couple of people who need...a little push,” Jim explained moving a knight on the chessboard. He looked up at Uhura with a cheeky grin and nodded at Pavel who pulled out a PADD with Enterprises schematics. It took a moment for the comms officer to catch on but when she did she couldn’t help but grin, “I can’t believe I’m saying this but damn Kirk you’re a genius,’ she said gracefully plopping down in your vacant chair. Jim grinned and held out his arms in a “Ta-da” motion.

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

Scotty dashed through the corridors of the Enterprise like his life depended on it; mostly because it did. He poked a bear and now he was running from said bear; that metaphorical bear was the ship’s CMO Leonard McCoy. “Damnit Scotty come back here!” McCoy shouted eyes blazing. Montgomery Scott refused to say that he was afraid of anything but at that moment he practically screamed like a “Wee lass,” as he ran through his lady. Glancing over his shoulder he saw McCoy gaining on him, yelping Scotty picked up the pace hoping to get to the drop-off point in time.

Scotty whooped when he saw Sulu at the end of the corridor running toward him with you hot on his heels. “Drop it, Scotty!” Sulu shouted passing by the man dropping the book he was holding on the floor before continuing like hell itself was after him. Scotty bent down and gently dropped the object he was holding before sprinting past you. Santa hat flying off his head he dove into an empty turbo lift laughing hysterically as the doors closed him in. You skidded to a stop before you tripped over the object Scotty dropped on the floor, panting you picked up the hat and what looked to be a holo frame. Looking down you saw a smiling little girl with a missing front tooth, “I think this belongs to you,” you said holding up the picture. McCoy huffed and picked up your book from the ground, “Dickens?” he asked impressed. You blushed and held out the picture frame, “ I like the classics,” you mumbled nervously. Leonard smirked as you traded items, “My daughter just finished To Kill A Mockingbird,” he said weighing the frame in his hands. You grinned, “I loved that one when I was little,” you said excitedly. “How did she like it?” you couldn’t help but ask. McCoy chuckled and ran a hand through his hair, “She loved it if I could guess by the video message she sent me,”

You were walking back down the corridor with Doctor McCoy when suddenly the lights dimmed and Christmas lights sprung to life lining the walls with holiday cheer. You laughed nervously, “Is it me or are we being set up?” you asked rubbing the back of your neck. Leonard raised an eyebrow, “now darlin’ whatever gave you that idea?” he asked dryly making you giggle. “So this is what he was up to,” you murmur with a shake of your head, “I’m not sure if I’m gonna kill him or…” McCoy trailed off muttering curses under his breath. You bit your lip to keep from smiling, “Well better make the most of it, “ you said and placed the Santa hat on your head. Leonard laughed a wide smile breaking across his face; you couldn’t help but follow suit. Your smile caused Leonard to pause his walking, his heart thudded in his chest and his breath caught. He had to admit he had always thought you were beautiful, smart, funny, and genuinely kind but he never dared to ask you out or even if he should. The divorce was such a messy painful thing he didn’t want to experience something like that again. You cocked your head to the side curiously, Leonard cleared his throat nervously. “I uh I’m running out of book titles to recommend to Jo, I was wonderin’ if you could help me make a list…” he trailed off clutching the holo frame in his hands tightly. You beamed, “Of course I’ll help! Does she have a favorite genre?” and with that, you were both off again. You and Leonard talked for a good portion of the night, neither minding waking up tired for shift the next day. For the future was bright and full of new stories to tell. Like the one, Joanna McCoy would ask for every Christmases to come: “The Magical Adventures of the Santa Hat,”

Tags:

@thottiewithashotgun

@lauraaan182

@writerdee1701

@dw-writes

@marvelouslytrekking

@spenceneedsahug

#star trek aos #leonard mccoy x reader #leonard mccoy #james t kirk #montgomery scott #hikaru sulu #pavel chekov #mister spock #nyota uhura #25 days of ficmas #reader insert #hailey the queen of typos

42 notes · View notes

raevenlywrites · 4 years ago

Text

The Ties That Bind 15 of ???

Rei stayed stiflingly close, even as we laid down to sleep. After the day I’d had--had it really only been one day?--all I wanted was sleep. I wished I could take comfort in Rei’s protective arm over mine, but what should be a thrilling indulgence was lost to exhaustion.

Karashan arrived in the morning to inform us the modest group of serpiente soldiers were in route, and this time, I sent Rei and Erica out to guide them to the Keep. I wanted a chance to talk to Karashan about how to proceed, and I wanted a break from Rei.

I was regretting the kiss more and more. I should have expected that it would change our dynamic--and indeed, it was meant to--but I missed the support of my best friend. I need my Rei back. I didn’t know who he was an alastair. I didn’t have the extra emotional energy to figure it out right now. So I sent him away, along with the overly reactive Erica, and set out for the keep with the much more level Raymond and Emune. It wasn’t lost on me that this was the pair I’d started with, and that they’d been on duty for over twenty-four hours. And Adelina...

The serpent pair had moved a little ways apart, facing the rising sun. Adelina was turned in such a way that she could watch us from the corner of her gaze, but it was clear the white viper had relaxed over the long stretch of being Zane’s lone guard. Either she was too tired to remain on edge, or I was witnessing the beginnings of our first steps towards peace.

I was also watching, I realized, the pair of serpents dance.

What I thought had been simple stretches, much like those of my Flight, were actually the precursor to a series of steps, slow and long and languorous. Hands reached high, fingers outstretched, the dancer’s up on the balls of their feet. They swayed like the trees, moved by a subtle wind that I could not see, but they could clearly feel. There was a musicality to their motions that I swore I could almost hear, an echo of memory...

“Best not to stare too long,” Karashan said, startling me from what certainly felt like a trance. I blinked too rapidly as I turned to her.

“Don’t tell me you believe all those lies about hypnotism.”

Karashan arched an eyebrow. “From what I hear tell, the Shardae magic was alive and wild yesterday, nearly coming to a full Song between you and your mother. You think our side is the only one with magic?”

I knew we weren’t, but surely it was an active thing, not something that happened simply by admiring them in the early morning sun.

I realized my gaze had drifted back to them, and Karashan gave me a knowing nod that made me want to duck my shoulders. I reacted as I always did by standing straighter.

“I want you to tell me all you know as we walk, and hopefully Zane and Adelina will offer their side of things. I know,” I said, raising my hand to forestall her obvious statement of distrust. “If they are planning something, why would they tell us about their strengths and weaknesses. I know. Believe me, General, I’ve spent much of the past several days thinking these exact same thoughts. We must proceed in good faith. As I’ve said again and again, if I am meant to fall by Zane’s hand then so be it. I will not live as if we are enemies. Peace has to come from within our hearts.”

“Peace comes from within people’s bellies,” the older crow said, “Or their pockets. Hearts are a luxury. An important one, granted, but still a luxury. If you want the Generals to follow you, you’ll have to tempt them with things more substantial than hearts. A man who’s known only war will seek only war, unless you give him something more tempting to do.”

“I should like your advice on how to handle the generals as well,” I said, noting from the corner of my eye that Zane and Adelina were wrapping up. “Either privately or in conjunction with Zane.”

I felt a headache beginning to form at my temples. Too many days in a row of too little sleep, too many worries, and too much uncertainty. How was peace proving to be more taxing than war? Or was I simply trading in one war for another? Karashan was right that the general’s council was the real problem. People like Elanor’s aunts were already living in a practical peace with their serpiente counterparts. War out here meant disruption to the vital activities of daily life. War in the council hall meant about as much as particularly compelling duel or chess match. They had all started their lives as actual soldiers, yes. But the pawns had made it across the board and now sat comfortably with the power of queens.

I was getting tired of all these too apt metaphors.

“Our monarchy isn’t quite as defanged as yours,” Adelina said, apparently oblivious to the pun. “The Cobriana’s have always led their people into battle personally--but then, well. You saw Gregory.”

The normally brash woman grew pensive, eyes scanning the trees for potential threats, but also to avoid looking at either Zane or me. Zane’s youngest brother, Gregory Cobriana, had been only fourteen when he’d died on the battlefield. I’d lost my youngest brother Xavier in same battle. Xavier had been there to sing our people into strength; his gifts had always run strongest towards shields of subtlety and hiding. While not creating true invisibility, such songs did give our soldiers a measure of unnatural stealth needed to match the natural speed and athleticism of serpiente soldiers. I had no idea what advantages the Cobriana brought to their people. Gregory had died in my arms just as slowly and awfully as any avian I’d ever sang to their final rest.

I wrapped my arms around myself, cold and miserable. I was not used to so much walking, and my heart and body were equally sore. I tried not to let my discomfort show--especially in light of Zane’s extrasensory awareness of my emotional state--but the memory of holding Gregory’s dying body was awful, and I was already so exhausted.

Zane’s shoulder brushed mine and I startled, coming to a stop. I gave him questioning eyes; Zane was entirely too bodily aware to ever brush me on accident. His eyes were lost, wide and dark and haunted. Had he been anyone else, I might have taken his hand.

And why not? Just because he was Zane Cobriana? I’d held Gregory’s, why not his?

“You were the last person on earth to feel his heartbeat.”

That statement stopped me cold, hand almost reaching for his, but not quite.

“Yes?” I made the word a question, an invitation to speak further. I had no idea where he was going with this.

“I...”

His eyes rolled shut, closed down with pain, face falling away even though he was no longer looking at anything. Adelina came up behind him, hand resting on his shoulder, body molded to his back. It should have been unseemly, but it was so obviously a gesture of comfort I could see no impropriety in it.

Adelina looked at me from over Zane’s shoulder.

“Among our people, we process our grief by sharing it. A burden carried by many hands is no burden at all.”

Zane pressed back into Adelina, eyes still closed, but face smoothing. I felt suddenly awkward, not at their display, but at the idea that my presence could add anything to it. This was so far removed from anything I’d ever seen in my own court--

Except, didn’t I also let Rei hold me this way, in those quiet moments alone when it was all too much. The only difference was the serpents weren’t hiding it.

And that they were asking me to join them.

“Please,” Adelina said, startling me with the softness of her petition. “As he said, you were the last to feel his brother’s heart beating. If it moved you at all, share that grief with us. Let us remember him with you.”

What could I do but nod and offer them my hand?

It felt too intimate to take his in mine while Adelina was holding him. Somehow, pressing my hand over his heart felt exactly right.

His chest was smooth and solid beneath my hand, tight with the developed muscle of practice and use. I felt an obvious mound of scar there, lines and ridges as harsh as the injury that must have caused it. What I didn’t feel was the heat of another living body, the rapid staccato of a frantically beating heart. Zane’s body was cool, barely warmer than the early morning air around us. And his heartbeat was a slow and steady drum, thick and rhythm, the perfect backbeat to the dance I’d seen him doing with Adelina.

Did all serpent’s hearts beat like drums? Or was it only this heart, who had to keep steady so many could follow it?

Gregory’s body had been cool, but I had thought that the effect of his injuries, and oncoming passing. I had thought his body slowed in preparation to be stilled, but Zane’s was just as stilled, just as chilled. Marveling, and acting only out of the distraction of fascination, I touched Adelina’s hand on Zane’s shoulder. Just as cool, just as still, like the unbroken quiet of early morning.

A natural bird will sun itself in the morning, wings spread wide to soak up the sun. A natural serpent will bask at all hours, their bodies at one with the world around them, heat rising and falling with their movement and environment.

A serpiente will bask in emotions in just the same way.

I felt the moment my memory passed to them. Not a literal sharing of recollection, but the emotion of it. The pain, the hopelessness, the helplessness--and the determination to see it through to the end. My guards had urged me to leave him, to pass this one by. Not that one, my lady. Not that one. I had knelt by his side as I would any other, holding his hand and singing songs of peace and comfort. They were never empty, when I sang, though some days it was harder to hold onto their meaning than others. For the magic to work, I had to sing with my whole heart. So I sang to Gregory Cobriana and thought of my brother, and wished desperately that this would be the last. I sang Gregory Cobriana to the ground, and tried to sing the war to sleep with it.

I had not realized I had begun to sing again now. It was only when Raymond’s voice joined mine, filling out the song with the rich tenor tones that I had never gotten to hear from his cousin, my dear Vasili, that I became aware of my currently reality again at all. How easy would it have been to be lost in those memories? How easy to dwell in that dark place that waits behind our eyelids, where past and future swirl and bleed into one another, and time stands still? But Raymond’s song pulled me back, and Karashan joined too with a simple harmonizing alto. I hadn’t realized the general could sing--but of course she could. All soldiers learned to sing, if for no other reason than to recognize the Shardae songs at work.

Only Emune, Zane, and Adelina remained quiet, though I could have sworn I felt the serpiente heartbeats shift under my hand to match the cadence of our joined song.

The Ties That Bind Tag list: @thehellinsideyourhead @therecouldbecolorsandlove @adventuresofacreesty @writing-with-melon @rainydaydarling @faithfire

Raev’s Gen Tag List (should I tag you guys in this? It IS a thing I wrote. I’m gonna say yes unless you guys are like “no of course not we’re sick of hearing about your stupid fic for a twenty year old book XD)

No one has complained yet so yall gonna keep getting tagged :P

List is currently: @lordkingsmith @writinglyra @drbibliophile @mperialscribe @adie-dee @adie-dee @lexiklecksi @writinginslowmotion @raenawrites @apollon-arium @anika-writes @faithfire

#raev does fic #hawksong fic #the kiesha'ra fic #the ties that bind fic #danica shardae #zane cobriana

15 notes · View notes