#this fic lives in my heart even though there are things I'd change | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bonny-kookoo · 1 year ago

Text

Jungkook

𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐎𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫 | Changes

What do you do when the person you once were becomes the person you miss being the most?

Tags/Warnings: Aged up!Jungkook, Younger!Reader, Age Gap (9 years, JK is mentioned to be 34/35), Angst, Mature romance, Jungkook's ex wife, mentions of past physical abuse, mentions of alcohol abuse, fluff, flirty Jungkook, no smut in this I'm sorry pls still read it :( there's some tension tho!!

Length: 6.5k words

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"Thanks for picking him up." Taehyung sighs, his son happily in the living room, taking a nap from school as he tucks himself in on the couch while his favorite show plays on the TV.

"I would've asked her, you know, but I feel like I'm relying too much on her again." The young father sighs. "I'm basically treating her the same as I did years ago, just without the pay."

"I heard about that." Jungkook says, drinking his coffee at the kitchen table where he sits across Taehyung. "She used to nanny while you lived separately from your wife, I think it was." He hums, setting his cup down. Jungkook isn't on bad terms with Taehyung's wife- but he tends to not say her name, because he honestly harbors quite a bit of distaste towards the woman who refuses to properly take care of her own child.

"Well don't you seem to know a bit about her now." Taehyung squints his eyes in suspicion. "What happened to 'she's too young for me anyways' huh?" He teases, and Jungkook sighs.

"Well, things.. happened. And we talked." He shrugs. "We're not.. really a couple, but we agreed to spend time with one another." He explains.

"So you're friends with benefits?" He wonders, drinking his tea while Jungkook leans back.

"No." He shakes his head, even though deep down, it does kind of feel like that to him, now that he thinks about it a bit more. "It's.. a bit more complicated than that. We're simply talking, seeing where it goes." He says.

"Hmhm." Tae nods. "Just don't break her heart. I still got basically nightmares from her last relationship." He mumbles a bit angrily to himself, clearly a bit irritated even just by the thought of it.

"I.. wondered what happened." Jungkook says. "Dae said he was a drinker?" He wonders, and Taehyung nods.

"Drinker, druggie, abusive asshole." He huffs, crossing his arms. "It's the main reason she moved away when Daehyun was younger. She wanted to protect him- make sure he won't get hurt."

"Was he violent?" Jungkook wants to know, because honestly, he has a hunch that that might've been the case. Taehyung seems on edge now, clearly torn between probably saying the truth, and respecting your privacy. "I was intending to ask her anyways. But she seems like the type to downplay her problems in order to make things seem less serious, so I thought you might be more honest." He adds.

"Yeah, she is like that." Tae agrees softly. "I'm not too sure what exactly went down. But I do know that she.. distanced herself out of fear that Daehyun might get hurt." He tells his friend. "Greg started to pick her up every time she'd babysit Daehyun at my house, even after I told him I didn't like that. He still did, still argued, turned up drunk multiple times at my doorstep." The young father remembers. "I kept her with me, of course. I'd never let her drive home with that alcoholic- but I guess something must've happened because she just.. suddenly cut contact." He shrugs. "Sent me a text, changed her number, moved out her old apartment."

"When did she come back?" Jungkook wonders.

"According to Yoongi, a few weeks before the aftershow party." Taehyung responds.

"So that's why you didn't recognize her?" He figures, and Tae nods.

"She changed a lot. Not just visually. She's.." His eyes lower to the cup in his hand. "..a lot more quiet. Cautious. Jumpy." He informs his friend. "And at the same time, she seems to mask a lot of it- get's irritated easily. She's trying to be who she was, but it's obvious that something changed, and whenever someone notices, she becomes defensive."

Jungkook doesn't really know what to think. Looking at Daehyun on the couch, he can absolutely understand your standpoint back then to get away from Taehyung's family in order to protect them- but that means there must have been at least some form of fear against your former partner to make you believe that he could potentially be a danger to the young boy and his father. It could also just be jealousy, of course- but Taehyung is right. You are a little odd sometimes.

And he doesn't know if he wants to know exactly why, or if he wants to let sleeping dogs rest.

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Jungkook leans back in his office chair, headache already almost too unbearable to him, especially considering the woman who's making her way up in the giant corporate building to see him.

She wants money again, he knows it. Evelyn only ever visits him if there's something she wants, after all.

"One might argue they'd know me by now." Evelyn huffs as she enters the office, hair a bit wet as she throws her coat over the chair in front of his desk, before she sits down. "How're you doing?" She wonders, and Jungkook doesn't look away from his laptop's screen whatsoever, still looking through his e-mails. He doesn't have to put too many thoughts into this conversation after all- she's most likely just here to leech off of him again.

"Cut it." He simply says. "What do you want?" He asks, phone on his desk vibrating and chiming with a new notification.

'I can just drop something off for you? I just got off work myself, so it's no hassle.' your message reads, an answer to a former rant from him about his headache, and the fact that he's 'locked in like a dog' in his office and without any proper food ever since this morning. It makes him softly smile a little, the fact that you want to bring him something to eat even though you're probably exhausted from your shift as well is something he's not used to. And he didn't even have to ask for it.

'Only if it's really not an issue for you' his answer reads, and you send a thumbs-up emoji as an answer, before you finish typing your proper answer.

'DW, is anything okay or do you want something specific?' you question, and he immediately types a response.

'Just whatever, really. Nothing too spicy though, please.' he offers, when a hand knocks on the table in front of him, the woman in his office dragging him back into reality with force. He signs, locks his phone before he puts it down, opening a chat with the front desk downstairs to let them know to bring you up when you arrive.

"You know, this was always the issue, Jungkook." Evelyn whines, leaning back in her chair with her arms crossed. "You're so consumed by your work, it's crazy." She shakes her head.

"That wasn't work, actually." He bites back with a monotone voice, not really offering her any emotion whatsoever- there's nothing left in him anymore he could offer anyways. She took it all, sucked it out of him like an insect, and now she's constantly upset that he's empty inside.

"Anyways, I got this letter recently stating that there was an issue with the bank transfer?" She says, giving him the letter to read- which he does, flying over it just to remember why that bank transfer did not go through. "I told them that they'll get their money by friday." She hums, leaning her face on her palm while he gives her the letter back.

"What do I have to do with it then?" He asks, and she sits upright again, tilting her head a bit in irritation. "You said they'll get their money by friday. Good. Why are you here then?" He asks, arms crossed, office chair squeaking a bit as he leans back into it.

"Well, it's your bank account!" She laughs a bit unsure. "I don't even know why there was apparently not a sufficient balance on it." She argues.

"I resigned the automatic transfer rights." Jungkook tells her, face not moving an inch as he breaks the news. "The letter doesn't mention an insufficient balance at all, Evelyn. It states that there's no bank account set for the automated transfer option at all." He informs her.

"What the fuck Jungkook?!" She barks. "And you didn't even tell me?!" She yells, standing up to slap her hands on his desk. "You can't just make these changes and not inform me about it! Do you know how expensive that was?!" She accuses, and he shrugs, noticing something move behind her, milky glass front of his office hiding what's going on inside and outside, only letting shadows be seen if someone's close enough. "I'll text you the invoice later, and you better fucking pay, you asshole!" She says, when she whips her head around, someone opening the glass door.

"Thanks." You tell the office lady having let you in, before your eyes widen, door closing behind you and instantly drowning out all noise except the very slight sound of the fan in the corner of the room.

"Ah, there you are." Jungkook sighs, suddenly feeling a lot lighter as he looks at you. "Come here- is it still raining a lot?" He wonders easily, taking the white plastic bag from you to set it on his table, before giving you a small hug to greet you. "I think that was all you wanted, wasn't it?" He asks Evelyn, who hasn't even gotten up from her seat, instead clearly studying you now.

"Actually, no." She tells him. "And it's kind of private, so it would be real nice if your assistant would leave." She tells you with a smile that reminds you of a snarling dog.

"Then come back a different day." Jungkook answers her however, offering to take your coat from you to hang next to his own on the wall close to the large windows. "Right now I'm really not in the mood for whatever it might be. Especially not with my girlfriend in the room." He bluntly says, and something seems to flash over her face at the mention of your alleged role in his life.

She slowly stands up to take her coat from the back of the chair, movements a lot slower now, a glare sent into your direction. "Don't get your hopes up, sweetheart." Evelyn tells you, slipping into the sleeves of her coat. "His first love will always stay his job." She almost threatens, before she takes her purse and leaves through the door, leaving a confused you, and a clearly exhausted Jungkook behind.

"Please, sit down." He offers, and you do so, watching how he leans back in his chair, hands running over his face before he sits up again. "I'm sorry. That timing couldn't have been worse." He sighs.

"Ah, here. Do you have water here?" You wonder, and he nods, pointing towards a water dispenser in the room. "Oh, fancy." You laugh, walking up to fill a cup to put in front of him. "I take them myself, they usually help really quickly. Not trying to murder you." You tease, and he chuckles, taking the medication and the cup for himself.

"Thank you, really." He sighs out before taking the pill, washing it down with half of the cup's contents before he closes his eyes for a moment. "God I hate her so much." He suddenly breaks out laughing, before he shakes his head, digging through what you've bought for him.

"I assume that was your ex wife?" You wonder, and he nods.

"I'm also really sorry for telling her you're my girlfriend when we haven't even talked about that yet." He tells you a bit.. shyly almost, while you pull the bag closer to take something out for yourself.

"It's fine." You shrug. "Got a nice ring to it, you know?" You joke, and he smiles, starting to eat.

It's quiet, but not oddly so. He enjoys this a lot, this company without any pressure, no eerie sense of something being about to happen. You're clearly here because you want to be, there's nothing you want from him, nothing you need, nothing you could gain from this. It's just what it is, nothing else, nothing to red between the lines.

"You can ask why she was here, by the way." He offers you, wiping his mouth with a tissue.

"I don't have to know." You say, however. "It's got nothing to do with me- right?" You ask, and he nods. "Then it's none of my business. You can rant to me about it, sure, but I can't really give you any opinions on it since I don't really know her, or the situation around you and her." You tell him.

Jungkook watches you for a moment, before he nods. "You're right." He agrees, letting go of the topic entirely for now. He know it's only fair to talk to you about it at some point- but right now is not the time for that, he decides. "Do you want me to drive you home later? I really only have to answer this one E-mail and then I can clock out." He tells you between bites, wiping his fingers before he taps away on his keyboard.

"If it's not a bother, sure." You shrug. "You said you got the weekend off, right?" You ask him, and he nods a bit absentmindedly. "Then how about you stay over?" You ask, and that definitely seems to catch his attention.

"Stay over?" He asks, just to make sure he heard it correctly, and you nod.

"Yeah." You nod. "It's, you know, what boyfriends do with their girlfriends." You tease, making him roll his eyes. "We could cook something, watch a movie. Oh, and one of the lightbulbs in my kitchen broke, so maybe you could fix that for me?" You chirp, and he suddenly smiles brightly to himself, clicking something on his laptop before he shuts it down. "What's that grin for, mister?" You ask, and he just shakes his head.

"Nothing, really." He tells you. "I'm just really happy." He confesses, and you smile the same, now a bit shy.

"Well, what's your answer then?" You wonder, watching him pack the leftovers back into the bag, before he walks to get both his and your jackets, helping you into yours.

"My answer is yes." He says, voice very close to your ear as he leans over your shoulder from behind you, hands on your arms for a second. "I'd love to stay over and fix that lightbulb too, of course.-"

"Since I heard that's what boyfriends do with their girlfriends."

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"There we go." He says, slowly climbing down the plastic kitchen chair you're holding onto just in case. "Anything else while I'm here?" He genuinely asks, and you shake your head, moving the chair back to the small kitchen table.

"No, that was all. Thank you, really." You say, before you move to open the fridge, taking out some things while he stands around with his hands in his pockets. Your apartment is pretty small- living in it together with you would most likely prove to be way too much, but he still thinks it's better than his own, in terms of.. quality.

His own home feels empty. There's nothing in it, it's way too big for a single person, and the view from so high up above the clouds has long lost it's charm to him.

He sits down at the kitchen table, leaning on it a little as he watches you wash some vegetables before you grab a cutting board and a knife. "Daehyun said you're a little lonely without your dog." He says, and you giggle a little, smiling to yourself. "Have you considered getting another one?" He wonders, but you just shrug.

"I'm too busy at the moment." You deny. "I used to bring him to work with me, since he was a very quiet and calm dog, which fit perfect into our office." You remember. "He'd always sleep under my desk, right on my feet. Always kept them warm." You softly say, and he notices that he might've struck a still hurtful topic if only from the sound of your voice becoming somewhat tighter.

"I can imagine. I always wanted a dog too-" He sighs, leaning back. "But.. Evelyn, the woman you saw today, she doesn't like them. So it was out of the question."

"Really?" You wonder, cutting up the vegetables. "I mean, I guess, if both of you were really busy then it probably was for the best." You hum, tension leaving you again. "Gotta look at the bigger picture."

"Yeah, maybe it was for the best." He agrees. To be honest, Evelyn would've probably fought over the dog as well, just like she did over the apartment, and other more petty things like fucking furniture. She wanted to ruin him, if financially then emotionally, and somehow, she somewhat did.

It's quiet again, when you, surprisingly to him, cut into a topic he did not expect.

"His name was Greg." You say, filling a small pot with water before you place it on the stove, turning it on. "You probably talked about him with Taehyung."

"I did." He admits. "But there's not much I know." He offers. "And like you said about my situation, I don't have to know about things that don't concern me. However-" He begins, getting up to now stand closer, find your gaze that's turned downwards onto the cutting board. "-I don't want to accidentally do something that might make you uncomfortable due to past experiences." He says.

"What a tactful way to ask me if I've got any trauma from that guy." You chuckle, moving to put the cut up vegetables in a bowl before you continue the preparations for dinner.

"I'm trying to be gentle here." He attempts to lighten up the mood, and you indeed smile at that.

"And I'm very thankful for that." You offer him, before you sigh, setting down the knife. "I don't.. think we're at a point where I should be dumping all of what happened onto you." You inform him, and he nods, accepting that. "I don't like yelling. If I feel uncomfortable, I'll probably try and get myself out of a situation by any means necessary-" you admit, turning a little to look at him. "-and that will probably include some nasty words thrown your way, if that get's you away from me." You tell him. "And I don't like alcohol. Even if you hand me full on medical evidence that you can't even get drunk, the moment I smell it- I just can't trust you." You say, and he nods.

"Alright, I respect that." He nods.

"I'll also get pretty clingy over time." You add on, making him nod. "And I can be annoying. I'll text you a lot." You continue, and a small smile sneaks itself onto his lips as he shrugs, crossing his arms. "The moment you invite me into your home I'll practically steal half of your closet contents-"

"Is that what he told you?" He wonders, and you grow quiet, eyes avoiding him. "I'm obsessed with my work." He begins his own rant, standing up to walk closer to you. "I never have time for anything else. I'm boring. Sometimes rude, and immature. I'm a perfectionist, but I'm also lazy. I snore, and I work out too much to the point where I'm sweating buckets. I'm a little messy." He tells you, hugging you from behind, though not very intimately- giving you a clear way out if you so want to.

"…is that what she told you?" You answer, and he smiles.

"Let's just agree on getting to know each other just the way we are, not the way someone else described us in the past." He offers, and you nod.

"Alright." You hum, before you push him a little playfully. "Now go and let me cook in here, boyfriend." You tease, making him grin impishly, his tongue running over his bottom lip as he does not walk away from behind you, hands now flat on your ass. "Hey!"

"What? I'm out of your way like this." He tells you almost innocently, hands moving to hold your waist now.

"Sit down there and let me cook!" You laugh.

"But we wanted to cook together, no?" He wonders. "Like.. boyfriend and girlfriend." He leans his chin on your shoulder.

"Well, boyfriends let their girlfriends cook in peace." You threaten, making him chuckle as his fingers squeeze your hips a bit.

"Not if their girlfriend is this attractive." He purrs, making you roll your eyes.

"Jungkook…" You wonder, suddenly way more serious, making his stand up straight again so you can face him. "Is.. that what we are now?" You ask, and his lips part for a second, unsure of his own answer. "I mean, it's fine if we're just playing around. Just.. I'm scared that we might end up in some.. unnecessary drama down the line if we're blurring the lines too much without properly discussing things first." You say.

"What do you mean?" He asks, and you sigh.

"What if you end up calling me.. your girlfriend just as a joke? But I start believing it at some point- thinking we are something serious when we're not. Or the other way around." You explain. "I don't want us to get hurt again. Neither of us."

Jungkook takes a deep breath, and from this close proximity, you can make out two odd dots near his bottom lip you're not too sure of. You might ask him about them some other time.

"Let me take time off of work. Next week, three days." He offers, catching you off guard. "Let's go on a trip. Together. Someplace no one knows us, and we don't know either." He tells you.

"I mean- I would've had friday and the weekend off anyways but-"

"Okay, great, perfect. I'll cancel my Friday meetings." He tells you, hands moving- at first, they seem to attempt to hold your cheeks- but it's like that feels too intimate yet, so he settles for your shoulders. "Let's get to know each other. The real you and me that got.. buried at some point." He offers.

"Why on a trip?" You ask.

"Because it's perfect." He chuckles. "Close proximity of the hotel room we'll share, stress of navigating the unfamiliar environment, the tension of not being able to just 'escape' any uncomfortable situation right away forcing us to talk things out as they happen-" He begins, and your mouth shapes an 'o' as you realize what he's talking about.

"It's a stress-test." You say, and he nods, grinning.

"Exactly." He nods.

"…to be honest you're already stressing me out." You jokingly reply-

Jungkook laughing, and you have a feeling he's not done that in a long time, with the way his ears turn red and his hand covers his mouth in embarrassment of that outburst.

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When Taehyung opens the door, he instantly greets his son who Jungkook has put down the moment he'd noticed the young father arriving at the front door to let him in.

"Oh wow." Taehyung laughs as Jungkook walks in, almost nervously running a hand through his hair. "Is the world ending? Apocalypse? Or am I high?" He jokes, making Jungkook roll his eyes. "No, seriously! I didn't even know you could still put those piercings back in!" He laughs, taking Dae's school backpack to take out his lunchbox so he can sort out the leftovers and wrappers from his snacks.

"It was a bit tricky, I won't lie." He laughs a little. "But they didn't really close all that much since I had them for so long, so it wasn't a big deal." He shrugs.

"What's the occasion?" Tae wonders, throwing the wrappers of Daehyun's snacks in the trash. "You most certainly don't look like you're gonna go to a meeting like that. What happened to 'I'm not in my twenties anymore' huh?" He jokes.

"I'm honestly not sure." He answers, hands in the pockets of his pants. "Just.. felt like it. And I'm not going to the office- I took time off." He confesses.

"Okay, are you running a fever?" Taehyung asks, and Jungkook laughs to himself. "Are you gonna meet up with your.. friend?" He air-quotes, and Jungkook nods, checking the silver watch on his wrist.

"Yeah- we're meeting up later, she's currently packing her things last thing she texted me." He nods. "Our flight is in about three hours from now, but it's her first time flying, so we wanted to be there a bit early just in case." Jungkook shrugs.

"Oh, fancy." Taehyung laughs. "Why though?" He wonders, washing the colorful lunchbox of his son in the sink.

"Stress testing." Jungkook offers. "We just want to see if we can handle each other under pressure." He says, and Taehyung sighs.

"My god Jungkook, can you just once try and not make everything more complicated than it has to be?" He worries. "Just spend time with her. Go out for a coffee or something, watch a shitty movie at home and let her suck you off during the commercial break or something, you know, like NORMAL people!" He whines. "You're acting as if this is some million-dollar business discussion. It's really not." He huffs out in frustration. "Listen, I know Eve fucked you over bad, and honestly you've always had a shit-taste in women to begin with because holy fuck if I think back to Lucy-"

"Can you get to the point?" Jungkook complains, a little embarrassed as his friend brings up his admittedly terrible dating history.

"-yeah, sorry." He laughs. "But, trust me-" Taehyung says, drying his hands before he puts them on his friend's shoulders. "-she's honestly perfect for you. Once you help her get her confidence back up, trust me, you've got yourself someone who's not a raging cunt for once." He finishes his rant, and Jungkook takes a deep breath.

"You think?" He worries, and Taehyung nods.

"I do." He says, patting his friend's back before he leads him to his front door. "Be yourself. And I mean, your real self. Be that goofy dude who cries during disney movies and folds his laundry to Depeche Mode at 3 am."

"Why would I do that?" Jungkook cringes, thinking his friend is joking- but he's surprised to find Taehyung with a soft gaze instead, an encouraging smile on his lips.

"Because that's the Jungkook I know." He offers, a somber look on his face.

"And I miss him."

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"Let me take that." He offers, taking the suitcase from you. It's small, scratched up, and he can't help but notice the stickers on it. "You good to go?" He wonders, and you nod, closing the door before locking it, walking next to him out the apartment building towards his by now familiar car, his own luggage already in the trunk where he puts yours now as well.

The moment you sit next to him inside, is when you notice how.. different he is today. Not only from looks alone- but it feels different, oddly enough. Lighter. Not as serious as he usually is. "I wondered what those.. spots were." You say, looking at him from the passenger side, and he raises his brows while stopping at a red light, turning his head towards you, who points to your own lower lip.

"Ah, yeah." He chuckles, a bit bashful. "I.. got them done in my early twenties. Took them out though, because.. I don't know." He shrugs.

"You don't know, of do you just realize that the reason was stupid?" You giggle, and he sighs, with a smile on his lips however.

"Caught me." He confesses, changing lanes as he makes his way to the airport.

"Why'd you put them back in?" You ask, leaning against the car door a bit.

"Because I wanted to be myself." He explains. "I.. like I said. I want you to get to know me. And not the person I became to please others around me." He tells you.

"I assume your.. ex wife didn't like the piercings?" You ask, testing how far you can pry into his past and how much you can poke until he tells you off. But much to your surprise, he seems rather unfazed by the topic.

"She hated my tattoos as well. Wanted me to get them removed constantly." He chuckles, and you're intrigued.

"You've got tattoos as well?" You ask, and he nods.

"Maybe I'll let you see them later?" He flirts, and you grin to yourself, adjusting your legs a little as you stay quiet. "Either way, Evelyn didn't like a lot about me."

"Then why did she marry you?" You ask, noticing too late how mean that question could come off.

"Probably for my bank account." He simply laughs. "I was.. stupid. I thought she was fixing me." He shakes his head. "I thought she only had my best interest in mind." He says, setting his turn lights to enter the airport parking area. "But she always hated me. Still does." He sighs, searching for a proper parking spot.

"Well, I don't hate you." You tell him.

"Yet." He mumbles, before he finally parks the car, turning off the engine. "Do you have your passport and everything on hand? Don't wanna have to unpack everything in a rush later at check-in." He tries to change the topic, but you look at him with eyes so soft that he becomes scared of them.

"Jungkook." You say his name, and he hates how kind it sounds. "As long as you're not like him, I won't hate you. Honestly, I don't even hate him." You tell him, and he nods a bit stiffly, before practically escaping the car, instead putting on his jacket before helping you take out your suitcase and handbag.

Inside the airport, he notices your nervousness, hand constantly reaching out but never holding on to him at all, in any way. It makes him chuckle a little as he watches you fight with yourself for quite a while, before he helps you check in.

You're clearly a bit overstimulated by everything going on around you, looking around anxiously, biting the inside of your lips constantly, even as you both sit down to wait for your gate to open for boarding. "Hey-" He reaches out to tug your lip from your teeth with his thumb, before he smiles in reassurance. "Okay?" He wonders, and you nod, though you're not looking at him. "Come here. You can hold onto me, by the way, if that helps you." Jungkook suggests, and you move your arms to wrap around one of his, body scooting closer to lean your face against his shoulder, sweater soft against your skin. He moves his arm around your shoulders to keep you closer, hand offering itself for you to hold instead, and you do so, fingers cold. "What's that scar?" He wonders, thumb running over a faint scar over the palm of your hand.

"A shoelace." You say, a little quietly.

"A shoelace?" He repeats, and you nod.

"Yeah." You confirm. "I had.. I was in the midst of changing the laces of.. Gregory's boots, because the dog had chewed them. But he got mad anyways, and pulled them out of my hand." You remember. "It happened really quickly, but I remember that it hurt badly." You chuckle. "It was an odd pain. Like my body couldn't decide whether or not I was burned or cut."

Jungkooks hand on your shoulder starts to move a little in a soothing motion, fingers circling around. It's his first confirmation that something did indeed happen, and he's almost convinced that what you just told him was probably not an isolated incident, but simply one of many that went down during your entire relationship.

"I didn't want him to get mad at Yogi. He already hated the poor dog enough." You sigh, closing your eyes as you settle against Jungkook's side. He enjoys this close proximity, the domestic feel of this moment, even though it's out in public and for everyone to see. He doesn't care.

"You can heal with me, you know?" He says, and you look up at him from where you're leaning against his body. "I can't promise you that.. our time spent will be all smooth sailing, but I can assure you that it will be nothing like what you've experienced." He hums towards you.

And you smile warmly, sighing. "Don't worry-" you giggle, closing your eyes.

"-It already is."

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The hotel room is spacious, expensive looking, nothing like you've seen before.

Usually, you only really get to see things like these on vacation photos your friends show you- you yourself don't really travel, you technically don't take time off at all, rather always asking to have your off-days paid out instead if possible. You've got no reason to treat yourself with anything, be it time off or a full on vacation.

Your sense of self worth has shriveled up like rotten fruit over the years, now thrown out like the garbage it is.

Jungkook meanwhile clearly has a routine in him, as he walks through every room first to check if everything's okay, just to then place his bag somewhere near the bed, a big yawn escaping him as he opens the balcony door wide, letting the air of the seaside in. It's odd to see him dressed rather casual, simple but expensive sweater stretching over his broad back. His face still shows the clear stress he's accumulated, and it makes you wonder.

"Do you.. go on vacations often?" You wonder, and he shakes his head.

"No, usually I only fly out for business trips." He explains, watching you sit on the edge of the twin-sized bed. "I originally thought I should book two single beds, by the way. I just.. thought it might be more intimate like this." He tells you, leaning against the small balcony's edge outside, glass door open, as the wind blows through the curtains a little.

"It's okay like this." You nod, making him smile softly.

"Do you want to rest a little?" He asks, and you shrug, unsure. You only have three days- if you sleep now, it's probably annoying to him since he most likely planned something on this trip for you both to do. He at least comes across as someone who likes to have everything set out and structured- not like you, who dives in head first without any real plan. You don't want him to stay hidden inside the hotel room just because you're tired from the flight. "Hey." He asks, and you didn't even notice him squatting down in front of where you sit, his hands on your knees as he finds your eyes from where he's looking up at you. "Don't hesitate to speak your mind. If we want this to work, we need honestly, first and foremost." He encourages, and you nod.

"I'm tired- but I don't want to be boring." You worry.

"How would taking a nap be boring?" he chuckles. "I'm actually glad you're tired. I didn't want to come off as an old man who needs a break because he can't keep up." He laughs, standing up before he moves to lay down on the bed, patting the spot right next to him.

You lay down where he wordlessly suggested, taking in a deep breath while focusing your eyes on the collar of his sweater for a moment. It's when your gaze roams around that you notice something poke out on his wrist as he turns back around from removing his watch from the other arm. Your fingers curiously lift the fabric of the sleeve, making him chuckle quietly, before he moves to push the fabric up to his elbow, exposing different colors of ink underneath his skin.

What was Jungkook like when he was younger? Has he always been somewhat like this- or has he changed into this instead?

"Got them done in my early twenties too." He explains quietly. "Just.. lineart at first. Black and white." Jungkook remembers as he watches you trace some of the lines with your finger. "Then it got more. Over time, it looked a little messy- so I added color to it, this time actually going to a professional who specifies in forming sleeves." He tells you.

"Do you regret them?" You wonder. "Like.. your piercings and your tattoos?" You ask, and he shakes his head.

"It's not like I regret them." He denies. "I still like the look of them. The aesthetic of it. It's just.." He sighs, inked hand turning around palm up, and you put your own on top of his, making him move to compare your hand sizes palm to palm. "..they don't feel like me anymore." He shrugs.

"Maybe because they aren't." You offer, now holding his hand with both of yours, your eyes on the blurred ink underneath the skin. "Maybe.. you changed. Even though you didn't want to."

He did. He knows that he did- but what he struggles with, is the question if he can even go back now. He wants to, but at this point, he feels like he's crossed that line by now, too far to step back and take a different path. Most people around him nowadays only now this Jungkook, not the one he used to be. If he just reverts back to who he once was, will he lose every friendship and connection he's made after he married?

Marriage. The moment he changed.

Love can make someone truly blind to a lot of things. He overlooked so many warning signs, pushed old friends and even family away just because they saw what he did not- or more so refused to. He's not spoken to his own parents in years, by now too ashamed to admit that he'd been wrong for the entirety of his past relationship, that his mother was right about her. What would she think about you?

She'd like you, he's very sure about that. His father would probably be a little suspicious of the age gab, and his brother would most likely tease the living daylights out of him, but he knows you'd fit right in. Do you have a good relationship with your parents? What would they think of him?

He wants to ask you, but the moment he becomes aware and snaps out of his thoughts, your eyes are already closed, breathing even. You're still holding onto him, and he realizes that he's never actually had a moment like this with Evelyn in the past, not even when they were just a regular couple, and definitely not after they got married. He feels.. free. No pressure on him, no obligations awaiting him, nothing needed or expected from him. You're simply sleeping, and yet the act itself makes his pride swell, because of your display of trust towards him.

He knows you've been hurt. He knows that he's been hurt-

And maybe, just maybe, together, you can finally begin heal.

Change once more, for a final time, into a happier version of yourselves.

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagine #bts jungkook imagine #jungkook x reader #bts jungkook fanfic #bts jungkook x reader #bts jeon jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook fanfic

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hiramaris · 1 year ago

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Kiss It Off Me

CHAPTER 1

Summary:

A story revolving around the newly arrived resident farmer in the eyes of the personified perfection, the sunflower of Pelican Town herself, Haley. Or. When Haley finally met the person that caused ripples in what was once a stagnant town, and she didn’t know how to handle such massive change.

Pairings: Haley x Fem!farmer

Notes:

Haley's heart events are just soooo wifey, especially after marriage. Her character development is well written off but I just can't help but notice that something is missing, like the heart events are just not that connected in some way. Stardew is an absolute gem don't get me wrong. I'd like to try and connect what I think is missing which is the reason this fic is created. P.S. Second try in making fanfiction. I apologize for any future grammatical errors or whatever. English is not my primary language.

Disclaimer: I do not own Stardew Valley or any of the related characters. Stardew Valley is created by and owned by ConcernedApe. This fanfiction is intended for entertainment only. I am not making any profit from this story. All rights of the original Stardew Valley story belong to ConcernedApe.

Warning: None so far? Just Haley being her usual self

Gif from reddit.com

Winter 25

Immobile.

Stagnant.

Bland.

What words could possibly do justice to describe this sleepy town? Pelican Town had its charms sure. It’s peaceful, the air is fresh, and would never choke you on your sleep plus it gives a really nice tan so Haley wouldn’t really complain.

But it was just so... boring. Was that the right term?

The people are meh, nosy, and just as bland but they are good neighbors though don't get her wrong. They look after them— her and Emily when their parents can’t.

Ugh.

Them again. Thinking about them just makes her angry— blood boiling and all that, and well… sad which is infuriating.

How can you just leave your kids just to go follow your own dreams and travel? And then act like you care just by sending some half-hearted letter? Sending a letter now and then was hardly enough to make up for their absence. How low could that be?

Emily doesn’t think so. But what does she know? Her cooking was as bland as the town, and her obsession with crystals and hippie clothes was just plain ridiculous. She knows nothing.

Her sister is anything but pessimistic. She saw the light in everything whereas Haley ever saw them through the lens of her camera.

Capturing a single moment in a photograph was a thousand times more vivid and alive than the bleak and colorless reality she was currently living in.

She should be in college right now, pursuing her dreams, being the center of attention, and having boys falling over themselves to impress her. Or she would have been running her own photography studio by now in a city that never sleeps, schmoozing with some famous photographers and carving a niche for herself in the cut-throat world of photography.

But no, because here she was, stuck in a six-mile drive from the nearest city, life as directionless as the people in here.

Why am I even staying here? She wonders.

Oh, yeah— grandma.

This house is hers. Her house is the only thing that made her feel that Grandma is still here, with them. Even though Haley is talking big about leaving this town, she knew to herself that she doesn’t have the strength to just leave it just like that. Which is why they both tried to keep it tidy and well... avoiding it from falling apart.

Aside from that, there was nothing to do here. The only things keeping her sane were her camera, her phone, and the clothes she ordered online.

Oh, and of course, her best friend, Alex.

He's the only one— aside from Emily and of course, the Mullner residence, Granny and George are good people even though George is grumpy all the time, that she's able to have a decent conversation. She and Alex are, after all, not the sharpest tool in the shed, and shared almost the same brain cell.

He’s that typical jock boy, ripped as hell but in terms of brain, well… meh. Not like Haley's any better so who is she to judge?

They went to the same school, belonged to the same clique, and were both popular, of course. He’s here to practice his grid ball or whatever but Haley knew better.

Alex, despite being the dungus that he is, has a lot on his plate already. He needs the peace this town can offer.

And maybe, maybe I need it, too.

Maybe being away from the city has a good cause, despite her constant complaints, this town has been her home for the past six years after all.

But she just really couldn’t help but dwell on this stupid thought of hers of being stagnant and directionless at this time of the year.

Winter.

Ugh. It’s stupidly cold outside and there’s no way she’s walking in six-inch snow just to get a quality photo, which isn’t much considering the lighting outside does not satisfy her at all. The only, and probably one good thing about winter is peppermint coffee. It's hot, minty, and makes her feel warm while making her mouth worthy of being sucked on— err... that's a want that cannot be sated as of the moment.

The bachelors in this town suck for real. They are not even worthy of a single glance. Apart from Alex, of course, but he's a friend so... no.

And what's made it double suck is that she ran out of peppermint coffee. Pierre is out of stock and there's no way she'll let herself be caught alive inside that creep manager's store that runs Joja or whatever.

Now she's stuck sitting at the table, devouring a massive pink cake that could feed an entire family, enduring a coffee so bland it makes her want to try and drink tea.

She hates tea.

Oh yeah, she's also holding a note and a sunflower in her other hand.

She doesn't want to read the letter but considering the gifts she just received, it’s probably just the same lame-ass apology about being unable to be here on her birthday this coming Spring 14th. Not that it mattered anymore; it had been two years of absence, and she had grown used to it by now.

With a flick of her wrist, she tossed the note onto the table, debating whether to toss it into the fireplace or tear it to shreds or whatever.

If it's just another excuse, she doesn’t want to hear it.

"Haaaay!" And there's a familiar voice.

"If you don't have peppermint coffee with you I swear to Yoba—"

"What's the case, long face?" he quipped. "And no, I don't have anything with me."

She looked up from her cake, finding Alex strolling in their kitchen with one of his shit-eating grins, hair covered with a concerning amount of snow. She grimaced. "Sometimes I wonder why I'm friends with you."

He feigned a hurt expression. "I thought you loved me though."

"According to gossip, maybe but really, I don't," she deadpanned.

He cackled at the mention of that. At the center of the gossip mill passing down from Marnie, Jodi, and Caroline, maybe Robin, too, and probably all the yoga club, is he and Haley dating. Which was absurd, to be honest.

"No, really, Hay." He finally turns serious. "What's up? What's got your face looking like that?"

"It's just the stupid climate." Haley tried to lie. She didn't want to stir up drama at the moment. Alex frowned, catching up with her lie almost immediately. He caught sight of the letter Haley threw earlier. "Alex don't—"

Too late. He already got it. He sat down next to her as he read the contents of the note, his brows furrowing in what she assumes is annoyance. "Parents, huh? Same old, same old?" He raised an eyebrow.

Haley huffed and snatched the letter away. "Yes, the usual."

"Well." Alex propped his elbow on the backrest, a sly grin returning to his face. "I just got the perfect news that might take your mind off things."

Haley arched a perfect eyebrow, curious. Gossip wasn't his usual forte.

"Spill."

"A new farmer is coming to town."

Haley's fork paused in mid-air. "Uh... I'm not sure how to react to that, and what's so great about it?"

His smile widened. "I heard she's from Zuzu City."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Why? Surprised another Zuzu native is coming here?"

"No, you dungus." She slapped his hand attempting to take a slice of her cake. "I heard you correctly, right? You said the farmer's a she? A girl is taking over that farm?"

"Yes," Alex confirmed, finally snagging a bite of cake. Haley makes a scrunched face in mock disgust. "The farmer's a she. Old man Railey's granddaughter actually. What's the problem though?" he asked in mouthfuls.

Haley stood up to grab another spoon. No way she's getting his imaginary cooties. Alex doesn't seem to mind; it only further encourages him to eat some more.

"Because it’s weird," she said as she sat down. "Farming isn't exactly a girl's job, especially for a city girl like her. I bet you she wouldn't last a month."

"Not all girls are like you, Hay— ow! What's that for?!" He rubbed his ribs where Haley just nudged with her boniest elbow of all time.

"As I was saying before being rudely interrupted." She rolled her eyes. "Farming is all dirt and nasty, smelly clothes. That farm was barely run by old man Railey before he died. What could possibly a city girl like his granddaughter could do with that rundown farm? I bet you it’s already smoldering by now."

"Good point," Alex said as he continued eating. Haley swear to Yoba all this idiot does is eat and relax in here.

He has a diet, right? So does she, and they're like eating a fat block of sugar right now.

Whatever. Pink cake has always been an exemption from all her seasonal dietary plans.

"But I guess we'll have to wait and see; don't you think so?" Alex turned to her after a few moments of silence. "I heard she's around our age. If it's true that farming is as difficult as they say, the least we can do is make her feel welcomed."

Haley barely nods in acknowledgment.

This town is like a pond, where everything that enters stays and everyone already there remains. The city is a raging storm with ocean waves ready to swallow you if you go against the flow. A lot of people there has a sense of direction, one Haley aspires to have, and what Pelican lacks. You can't, at all costs, be still and unmoved and some people just couldn't do that.

And those people who couldn't stand the pressure, come here, like a moth drawn to a flame, seeking the mundanity Pelican Town could offer them. Perhaps they have grown weary of the constant hustle and bustle. Maybe city life has been too much. Maybe modern life has been too much for this farmer.

Who knows?

But one thing Haley doesn't like, and what keeps her unmoved and still, is change. Adapting, and adjusting isn't meant for her. It took years before she could finally settle a lifestyle in this town, and another two years of adjustment when her parents decided it would be a good idea to abandon them and go travel. She knew where to go, where townspeople go just so she could avoid interacting with them, she accustomed herself to their culture, and the perfect spots for taking pictures. She has it all memorized and planned out perfectly.

And this farmer will be an anomaly to her perfectly (not as perfect as she thought) crafted routine. New face, a new attitude, and just an overall new person she might be obligated to talk to for the sake of introduction.

Pelican is a stagnant pond, yet this farmer, this alien to her world, she's not yet even here but she is already starting to cause ripples.

And Haley doesn't know what to think of it.

~~~~~

Notes:

The title was inspired by Cigarettes After Sex' Kiss it off me. Their songs are such *chef's kiss* and whilst I was listening to this song, it kind of, sorta, reminded me of how my farmer sees her wife. Thus kabooOm this fic is born

Edit: Because I'm procrastinating and I made sure to finish off my other story first, I decided now to transfer this story from Ao3 to Tumblr

#stardew valley #stardew farmer #haley x farmer #haley x reader #stardew fanfic #stardew alex #stardew haley #sdv

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rwrbficrecs · 8 months ago

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We’ll Invite Something In by @smc-27 (book-verse)

@dot524: This is a fandom favorite and for good reason. In this canon divergence AU, Alex is President, Henry is out, and they never got together in their 20s. Instead, they encounter each other in their late 30s and a very different type of relationship ensues. They still hide it at first, but there’s a lot of living that they both have done and need to work through. I really enjoyed the character dynamics here and how the premise changed both Alex and Henry, making them bolder and more mature. Definitely read this one!

Eyes Blue, Like the Atlantic by bleedingballroomfloor (book-verse)

@dot524: A Titanic AU! Adapted by an excellent writer, this one has suspense, action, romance, and intrigue. There is a MCD (Main Character Death) in here and some other tags to be aware of, but also vibrant scenes with dancing, chasing, art, and formal wear. I really enjoyed it!

Clean Slate by @smc-27 (book-verse)

@heysweetheart-writes: This was just so excellent. I devoured it in no time, couldn't put it down. I love the way Alex just slips into Henry's life like a silk glove even though Henry has his hesitations. There's abslutely no angst at all other than "you're too young for me" "no, next question" I love it. I love Henry finally feeling young for the first time. I think that is something that Henry generally feels after meeting Alex, like he's never been able to, no matter at what point in life he is. ANYWAY I'm talking about Henry way too much again for a rec. Read this.

Most People Exist by @sprigsofviolets (book-verse)

@na-dineee: Henry, 30, is a nurse on a cancer ward. From the very first moment he feels an intense connection and attraction to his newest patient, the one who has a brain tumor and is named Alexander Claremont-Diaz. - The tags say it all: "Falling in love, Slow Burn, Angst with a happy ending, Hurt/Comfort". After reading this story I am a whole new person. I laughed and cried, had butterflies in my stomach, I felt it all. Hands down one of the best fics I've ever read!

after hours by @dumbpeachjuice (book-verse)

@na-dineee: How much can happen in a few hours? stutteringpeach: Hold my beer. 😅🤝 Reading this was truly a roller coaster ride, my stomach was doing somersaults non-stop: On his last evening in New York, poet Henry meets bartender Alex and the two spend the night together - in true "Before Sunrise" style. To sum it all up: enchanting, sweet, phenomenal, iconic!

No. 1 (Royal Red and Blue) Oil on Canvas by @captainjunglegym (book-verse)

@zwiazdziarka: This fic is so twisted and surprising in the best way! The summary did not prepare me for all the action that comes after the initial relationship drama and I'd really like to fawn over it some more but I don't want to spoil the fun of figuring out what really is going on and what are characters' motivations. Just give it a try.

Meet the Parents (series) by @14carrotghoul (book-verse)

@dot524: I really enjoyed these thoughtful character studies of Ellen and Oscar. The two short stories are a series of canon vignettes from Oscar and Ellen’s POV. These glimpses of the Claremont-Diaz parents add heart and depth to the RWRB canon, giving insight about how Ellen and Oscar think about parenthood, power, family, and each other.

Leave The World Better Than You Found It: A BONES AU by @treluna4 (book/movie-verse)

@myheartalivewrites: I really enjoyed this FirstPrince meets procedural TV show fic! With Alex as Booth and Henry as Brennan, they learn to work together, solve crimes--and fall in love, of course. Plus take down a very satisfying book villain.

No Laughing Matter by @inexplicablymine (book-verse)

@suseagull04: This fic is absolutely hysterical- a must read if you need something to cheer you up! It's also very relatable for anyone who, like me, has said things they've regretted in all the best ways!

in summer air by @acdsbff (book-verse)

@na-dineee: I need a vacation and vitamin D - maybe that's why this series (both POVs are covered 🥰) captivated me so much?! It is set on a Greek island, where Alex, just cheated on by his boyfriend, meets hotel owner Henry. What follows is a whirlwind speedrun romance against a beautiful backdrop. Really therapeutic for the heart on dreary days!!

here is a map (with your name as a capital) by @alasse9 (book-verse)

@dot524: What an incredible surprise to have this entire 50k story drop at once. In this canon divergent story, Alex and Henry start getting to know each other in Rio, when Alex helps him recover from a panic attack. Their friendship, and later their relationship, is a delightful slow burn with funny moments, heartbreak, and steady support of each other. I thoroughly enjoyed this start to finish — the characterization of both Alex and Henry is on point and I really enjoyed how the writer changed some of the scenes from the book while keeping key callbacks. A delight.

Claremont 2008 by @happiness-of-the-pursuit (book-verse)

@suseagull04: This friends to lovers AU is done so well! Having Henry and Alex meet as kids means we get years of their friendship before they even start dating, and it gives every aspect of their relationship so much depth through this entire fic. It also gives some events only referenced in the novel a completely different perspective, which makes them even better!

keep me in the moment (don't it feel so real?) by @anincompletelist (book-verse)

@heysweetheart-writes: I absolutely love everything that comes out of Sarah's magic little fingers and this was no exception. Alex and Henry are best friends and pinning over eache other unknowingly and an accidental lil discovery turns their relationship upside-down (for the better) absolutely recommended. I honestly loved it so much.

you know i can't be found with you by @dumbpeachjuice (book-verse)

@heysweetheart-writes: This was SO much fun. Alex was RELENTLESS and I absolutely love an older Henry. It was also very fucking funny. 10/10

the great duck fiasco by @alexclaremont-diaz (book-verse)

@suseagull04: A spy AU, dating apps, and Alex's Texas roots combine in the funniest way possible- definitely read this if you want a good laugh!

#monthly faves #rwrb fic recs #firstprince #firstprince fic recs

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atruththatyoudeny · 4 days ago

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Happy 28th! During the last weeks the only thing I could find comfort in was reading fics. I can't express how thankful I am for every single author in this fandom who lets me escape to worlds that are not as cruel as the one we actually live in. So, really, thank you from the bottom of my heart!

Be Here | Rearviewdreamer | [36k] For a long time, Harry's biggest worry was figuring out what he wants to do with his life until he meets someone who shows him life isn't something to worry about necessarily. It's something you live.

swallowed in the sea | 28goldensfics | [63k] It's 1948. It's been years since Louis Tomlinson was discharged from his time as a war doctor; all memories of that time haunt him. To get away, he moved to Orkney, a small town in Scotland on the shoreside. The storms became his crutch and solitude his comfort, watching the rain roll in and the waves lap on the sand. Everything was okay, every day was the same. Until there's a knock on his door in the middle of a thunderstorm.

Be There | mission2feelike | [179k] Niall sits down dramatically, arms flopping to his side before he leans forward and looks right into Harry’s eyes. “So, your ex-boyfriend, who broke your heart four years ago, is coming to stay at your house for six weeks? And his daughter, your daughter, is coming to stay tonight?” Harry nods, worried if he speaks he’ll be yelled at again, but then Niall’s face softens, his ever-present smile is back and Harry hears him breathe out a small chuckle. “Okay, for the record, I think this is the worst idea you’ve ever had, but how can we help?" or The one where their family has been torn apart and their hearts broken, but an accident, a snowstorm, cinnamon rolls, and the adorable Josie force Louis and Harry to finally face the truth, and each other.

Whole Lot of History | Blue_Green28 | [73k] Louis and Harry have a whole lot of history. With 3 children coming out of their twelve years long marriage they are essential parts of each other's lives even though they have moved on with new partners since their divorce ten years ago. Or have they? What happens when Harry finally gets some money to open the coffee shop he had always dreamed of and they spend more time together to plan everything? Does their love still have a chance?

I'd burn the world for you. | SweetieR | [22k] Louis looked at the file someone from the Agency had taken the time to drop home for him earlier. At the top was his code name – BLACK WIDOW 28369 ABO. FILE HARRY STYLES - CASE 5896 was written underneath. It was always so official. Sometimes Louis felt like he was working for the FBI. Well… A twisted version of it, at least. Or - Louis Tomlinson is a paid assassin sent to kill a rich business man. He's the best in his field and is convinced the mission will be easy for him. He didn't expect to meet Harry Styles, a sweet yet guarded Alpha who will change absolutely everything.

Roman Empire | Speechless | [11k] One day Louis answers Liam's phone while he is in the shower. That's how he meets Harry, Liam's friend who moved to Italy just a while ago. And that's how Liam loses ownership of his phone. “Do they sleep on the other side of the bed in Italy?” He hears Harry laugh for a moment. “I sleep right in the middle,” Harry replies. “Because no one will marry me.” Louis bites back a little smile. “Have you asked enough people?” “The old lady walking her dog, just now.” Harry confirms. “She said no.”

Hazelbridge | CoolCrying | [77k] Tomlinson's smells of old carpet, and old wood. It's old books with crinkled, fragile paper and cracking spines. It's the memory of Grandad and all the customers who have come before. It's new books too and the faint smell of wine spilled in the carpet. ~ Nestled in the heart of the Yorkshire Dales, the tiny town of Hazelbridge has been home to Louis and his family for generations. Heir to his grandfather's historic bookshop, Louis lives a quiet but happy life, providing a hub for the town's many queer people, and indulging his love for books. That is, until Harry Styles comes to town. This is the story of a town and two bookshops. It's the story of a family, and two boys with very different stories, who fell in love.

Forget Me Not | tiltreality33 | [99k] After a life altering car crash steals the last five years of Louis Tomlinson's memory, he returns from the hospital to an unfamiliar life that leaves him feeling inconsequential. An accidental run in with single father, Harry Styles, and his adorable pup, Elliot, make Louis question his desires, his dreams, and his fears. Eventually, he's forced to read between the lines and wonder... Has his forgotten past been that far away all along? Or have the answers been just beyond his reach all this time? _____________________________________ OR Prompt #80 BLFF 2024: Louis keeps running into the same alpha and pup everywhere he goes, and every time, it ends up with the small pup crying for his “mommy” (Louis). At first he found it cute, but after a while he begins to realize that the child’s pleas are lasting longer. The alpha assures him that there’s nothing to worry about, that it’s just a pup being a pup. But despite reassurances from the alpha, Louis is still worried about the pup. Or: AU where Louis has a horrible accident, resulting in him getting amnesia and forgetting the two people he loves the most: his alpha and pup.

Blue Nights | SilverStuff50 | [55k] Louis does what he needs to do to make ends meet, and if that means showing his body to make money, so be it, he'll use the gifts he's been given to keep him and his dad safe. When a mysterious benefactor starts to make demands on him, Louis has to question whether its the money or the man he's most tempted by.

The Royal Midwife | Loretheloner | [40k] Louis has called himself the "Royal Midwife" since his mother passed away. When the King summons him, he expects to be stripped of his stolen title. What he doesn't anticipate is that he will be be kidnapped and taken to the neighbouring kingdom, where he is expected to give the apparently infertile Crown Princes an heir. (Or, as I've been calling it in my head, the arranged situationship fic)

The Warmth | goldensweetmemory | [22k] Prompt: Based on the movie "Good Luck To You, Leo Grande"

No more days alone | Let_Us_Be_Weird | [16k] After years of no contact, it's a random Tweet on his timeline, that makes Louis brave enough to wish Harry a happy new year

make sure you kiss your knuckles before you punch me in the face | localopa | [25k] things could be worse. harry doesn’t know what could be worse than being forced to do a tell-all interview with his ex friends with benefits that he still harbors feelings for, the only person he could ever see a future with, the person who truly hates him so much, he can’t help but hate him right back. but surely, worse things have happened at sea, right?

#28th appreciation #fic rec #my fic rec #my reads

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aihoshiino · 2 months ago

Note

I just want to start by saying I really love your analysis of Ai’s character! It’s nice to know that Ai still has some dedicated fans, even after she died in the story. Ai was fascinating to me throughout the time we got to know her. So it makes me happy that people still talk about her quite often.

I'll get straight to the point now. Lately, I've been unsatisfied with the writing of Oshi no Ko. I'm not a fan of how they've handled Ruby, the revenge plot, and Kana's concert. So, I decided to create my own alternate universe (AU) story featuring two of my favorite characters from the manga, Ai and Kana. The setting in the AU is somewhere around the time after Ai got scouted. The only change I've made to Kana is that she is the same age as Ai in this timeline. I'm not exactly sure how I want to develop their friendship or how they would meet, but I'd love to hear your honest thoughts. How do you think a friendship between Ai and Kana would unfold? I would like to say it wouldn't be an entire copy of RubyKana's dynamic, but I'm not entirely sure 😭. My goal is to portray Ai's feelings and the increasing pressure she faces, as well as Kana's struggles to find work and her gradual realization of her mother's exploitation. I also want to show how they balance their friendship despite being in different fields and supporting each other.

Thanks so much, anon! 💜 THIS IS SUCH A CUTE IDEA�� Usually when I see fics of Ai and Kana interacting, it's with their canon age gap but the idea of them being peers is super interesting… please do drop it into my inbox if/when you write it!

The idea I had immediately was like - since we're already messing around with the timeline by making Kana and Ai peers, you could push up the live-action adaptation of Sweet Today and have them cross paths that way. Ai mentions in the Da Vinci Q&A that she would've loved to play the lead character if it was ever adapted - which as we all know is the role Kana plays in the story proper. There's already a surprising amount of parallels set up between Ai and Kana in the main story, but that one in particular really made me go ! so I think you could mine some interesting thematic stuff out of it.

That would also probably be a good way to put them in each others' proximity as well, I think! Like idk, maybe Kana was supposed to get the lead role but got bumped down to a supporting cast member when the production committee decided they wanted Ai's name recognition instead and now Kana has to balance being professional with seething over losing this role she really wanted to a girl who's not even an actress but also wanting to help her give a good performance j-just to make sure the show is good! Not for any other reason! … That kind of thing.

I definitely think they'd have an uphill struggle… they're both dishonest in ways that really clash, huh. I can really easily see the way Kana defaults to externalizing her vulnerability as snark and aggression accidentally setting off Ai's tendency to go belly up fawning mode, which in turn rubs on all Kana's insecurities and her feelings of not being good enough, which causes her to be even more reactive… I think they'd definitely end up having a big blow-up a la Nino and Ai before they could start properly communicating.

Once they're on the same page, though, I think they'd be really good friends! Ai is an incredibly affectionate and supportive presence for the people she loves and Kana is extremely proactively protective of the people she allows into her heart. I think they could really hype each other up and support each other in some really good ways.

Basically what I'm saying is;

[kana voice] HEY!!! SHE ASKED FOR NO PICKLES!!!!! [said while trying to restrain Ai from forcefeeding herself a burger she does not want in order to not mildly inconvenience another human being]

#oshi no ko #oshi no posting #onk asks

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bingbongsupremacy · 11 months ago

Text

Lonely Pt. 1

Pairing: Stranger Things x reader Zombie Apocalypse AU

Warnings:

Summary: A few days after the zombie apocolypse took over Hawkins you lost everyone. Once you finally run out of supplies, you're forced to venture out into the town, hoping not to run into anyone and make it to safety alive. Unfortunately, life doesn't always go how you want it.

*Not Proof Read*

This Fic does not mention body type, weight, race, gender, etc. If I happened to mess up and add a pronoun or anything that could define the readers appearance, please let me know so I can fix it. Ty!

ABC List Stranger Things Master List

Pt. 1 Pt. 2

*****

People are evil. They truly. When things get rough the worst parts of us tend to leak out. Maybe it's from fear, maybe it's from adrenaline. Whatever it is, the worst parts of us tend to leak out, forever changing us.

Three days after the virus hit Hawkins my family was killed. A group of blood thirsty survivors tore through my parents' house, killing everyone. Well almost everyone.

I managed to get out. I'm not sure how, but I did. I ran until my lungs hurt. Until I felt like I would die if I kept going.

Flashes of Jason Carver, the athlete turned cold blooded survivalist leader, killing my parents running through my mind. The lack of emotions sent shivers down my spine. How can someone take the life of another and not feel anything? Not feel guilty or disgusting. Somehow the previous three days turned the cocky pretty boy into an emotionless killer.

The personality change is terrifying.

I managed to find a house away from the inner heart of Hawkins. Away from the people. Thankfully, whoever lived there left behind a good amount of food and water.

Unfortunately, food and water can only last so long. I knew this day would come. The day where surviving off of the pantries of nearby homes wouldn't be possible anymore.

Frankly, I'm not sure how I've made it 6 months on my own. I still struggle to kill the zombie things out there. I hide away whenever they come out, hoping they don't hear me move around.

I tuck the last few remaining bits of food into my backpack before pulling the heavy pack onto my shoulders. I do one last sweep around the house, making sure I have everything I need.

I tightly grip onto the kitchen knife in my hand. Hopefully I don't run into a hoard. There's no way in hell I could survive if I do.

I close the front door of the house I've been borrowing for the past half a year. I feel anxiety bubble up in my stomach. I'm scared. I can't deny it. What if I get bitten? Or kidnapped by Jason Carver's pack of assholes?

I have no choice.

The sound of crunching leaves beneath my feet and wind are the only sounds I hear as I step onto empty street. It's silent, the way it has been for months. The last time I heard something was when a small group of zombies wandered through the the neighborhood, managing to somehow stumble into every garbage can possible.

Any sign of human life is gone. The lack of animals is terrifying. Is everything dead? What if I'm the only person alive.

Will I be alone forever?

It's been hard being alone for so long. There's not much you can do when you're by yourself with no access to electricity or running water.

I never thought I'd say this, but I miss my fucking job. At least there I got to talk to people, even if it was a forced greeting.

I finally make it out of the neighborhood. Even though I haven't been this far out in months, I remember every road. I know exactly how to get to the center of town.

There has to be some place with food, right? There's no way Jason Carver could have gotten absolutely everything.

As I pass another neighborhood, I immediately spot the smashed in doors. Windows are shattered and belongings from inside and thrown around the yard. People have raided here.

In a weird way it gives me some sort of hope. Maybe there are people besides Jason and his friends that are alive. Maybe they'll help me.

Not everyone can be evil, right?

Not everyone is a murderer.

A few cars litter the roads, rotting people sitting inside. Some have turned and others are still, their bodies decomposing.

I finally make it to the entrance of main street. All of the surrounding buildings are smashed in. I pass a four car crash in the center of the road, dried blood staining all around.

The loud sound of groans fills my ears. A shiver runs through my back.

There's a zombie somewhere out here.

I turn onto a nearby street and immediately regret my decision. Dozens of zombies wander around the street.

" Fuck. " I mumble, fear crawling it's way towards my throat.

The heads of the zombies snap towards me, their dead grey eyes piercing into my body like a knife.

They have fucking super hearing or some shit. I'm fucked. I'm fucked.

I quickly turn to run down the street. The sounds of shuffling feet follows behind me. They're not super fast, but there's no way I'd be able to run for miles with them behind me. If I stop running they'd easily catch up.

Clenching the knife in my hand, I run as I fast I can off of main street. Maybe I can make it back to the house? Fuck fuck!

Fuck me. The side road is blocked by another group of zombies. My old neighbors, people I used to talk to every day, quickly turn their hungry eyes on me.

I'm so screwed.

I have two fucking hoards behind me.

I turn onto another street, hoping there's not another group on this street.

I'm so caught up in panic that I don't register the sound of a speeding car and gun shots.

A brown and white van speeds in front of me. The door opens as it quickly halts to a stop a few feet in front of me.

" Get in! " The man yells. His eyes trained on the group behind me. In his hands is a large shot gun.

I hesitate. What if this guy fucking kills me?

" Earth to girl, get in the fucking van! " Another man in the drivers seat yells, shooting the pistol in his dirty hands.

Fuck it, being killed by them might hurt less than being eaten alive.

I scramble into the van, immediately noticing the pile of tools and weapons laying around.

The man at the van door slams it shut. He clutches onto the back of the passenger seat in front of him as the driver speeds down the street. He turns his attention to me, immediately raising his gun towards me when the van stops jumping around.

I push myself against the van wall, fear coursing through my veins. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe I should've just gotten eaten. " Please don't hurt me! " I keep the knife in front of me, hoping it'll help somehow.

Who am I kidding, a fucking knife won't save me from shit.

" Drop the knife. " The man grunts. His face is covered by a short beard. His long frizzy hair is tied back into a bun, his head covered with a battered hat. A small scar runs down the left side of his face, near his eyebrow. His eyes look familiar but I can't quite place it.

Deciding it's probably best if I listen, I carefully set down the knife. " Okay, okay. " My breath is shaky.

" Check for bites. " The guy up front barks, glancing back at us from the rear view mirror. His skin is covered in splotches of dirt and grime, his eyes are covered with a pair of dark sunglasses. His hair however, reminds me of someone; Steve Harrington. It's neatly put up, only a few stray strands framing his face.

I don't have time to question the looks of the man up front before the guy holding a shotgun speaks to me.

" Show me your arms and legs. "

I don't hesitate to shrug off my bag and jacket. I pull up the ends up my sleeves, turning my arms back and forth before pulling up my jeans. I let out a small wince when I notice a large gash on my ankle. I have no idea where I got this. Maybe I scraped it against something? "

" Where did you get that? " The shotgun man asks, nodding down to my leg.

" I have no idea. I had no idea I was bleeding. "

" Tie them, E. " The man up front says nonchalantly.

My eyes widen. " What? But I haven't been bitten! I swear to god, I haven't been bitten. I-I'll take everything off and show you! " I offer, terrified about what these men are going to do to me.

Guilt flashes in the shot gun holding guys' eyes. " Look, until we know you're not dangerous or infected, we can't take any risks. If you're clear, you'll be out of this in no time. " The guy pulls a handful of zipties from his pocket. " Please give me your hands. "

I hesitantly hand his my hands, seeing no way out of this.

The guy quickly ties my hands and ankles before putting anything sharp in my reach in a locked box. He pulls a small red bag out of the box and scoots towards me.

I try to scoot further into the corner of the van, tucking my arms into my body.

The guy notices. " I'm not going to hurt you. " He pulls out a Band-Aid. " I'm gonna clean your cut up. If it's not infected with the virus, it's going to get infected by some other shit. The last thing you need is an fucked up leg. " His tone is slightly softer than it was a few minutes ago.

I allow him to take a look at my ankle. His cold hands pull my ankles onto his lap before he begins cleaning up my cut. The anti bacterial wipe stings but not bad enough to cause me to wince.

" Good news is it's not deep. Probably a branch or wire that scraped you. "

I take this opportunity to study the mans face. Small dark bags rest under his brown eyes. Over grown bangs droop past his eyes, pushes aside by him every once in a while.

Up closer I notice the shirt he's wearing. It's covered in dirt and blood, making it nearly impossible to tell it was once white. My eyes trace the familiar design. The Hellfire Club.

I was never apart of it, but I'd heard of it. I'd thought about joining back in high school but I was too scared. I worried they wouldn't let me play since I'd be the only girl in the group or think I wasn't good enough to join. I let my fears get the best of me.

" Eddie Munson? " I ask, my eyes looking up at the mans' face.

His eyes meet mine, widening in confusion. " Yeah? "

A little bit of relief fills my chest. I was never friends with Eddie, but I'd worked on a couple of assignments with him growing up. He was always kind and for the most part, did his part of the project. I'm not exactly sure why he got held back. He was smart, he just didn't seem to want to put in the hard work needed to graduate. It was like he didn't believe in himself.

" I'm Y/N. You probably don't remember me, it was so long- " I'm cut off by him.

" From world civ! " His lips curl into a small smile. " I remember you. "

My heart jumps a little. I'd always had a small crush on the dark haired boy. He was one of the reasons I wanted to join Hellfire. He'd talk about it sometimes during our projects, making it sound so fun.

" Is that Steve Harrington? " I ask, glancing to the driver.

" It's me. " Steve replies, his eyes not leaving the road. " Sorry, I don't think I remember you, Y/N. "

I nod. " I was 3 years older than you so we never really crossed paths. " I feel slightly more safe knowing I at least semi know the people I'm with. " Did we lose the zombies? "

" Yeah we lost them a while back. " Steve nods, his eyes glancing back at the rear view mirror every once in a while. " We're going to need to stop for gas soon, Eddie. "

" Fuck. " Eddie sighs. " Of course we are. "

" Should've filled the tank up when I told you. " Steve rolls his eyes.

Eddie finishes bandaging up my ankle before gently fixing the positioning of the ties around it. " I was busy grabbing bullets. "

The van pulls to a stop and Steve shuts off the engine, making sure to take the keys out of the ignition. " Grab the tube. "

Eddie grabs a small bag. A small tube pokes out of the top of it, quickly disappearing when Eddie shoves it down. " We'll be back. " He reassures me before opening the back doors and jumping out.

I quietly lean against the van wall.

" Let's just cut them free. " Eddie's voice is muffled slightly .

" No fucking way, Eddie. I know you know them, but we still have to follow protocol. We keep them tied for at least a week. Until we know they aren't infected. Besides, we don't even know if they're dangerous. They could slit our fucking throats and steal our supplies. " Steve's voice is stern.

Eddie sighs. " They wouldn't do that. I know they would- "

" When was the last time you saw them, Eddie? High school? It doesn't sound like you guys were friends when they graduated. I'm pretty sure you'd be able to recognize them faster if you were. " Steve points out.

" Well, yeah but they're a good person. They wouldn't do that shit. " Eddie defends me, making my heart jump a little.

My stupid fucking crush is back.

" It's been years Eddie. You don't know them. It's been 6 months since shit hit the fan. People change, especially after all the crap that's been going on. They probably aren't the same person they were years ago. Look, nobody's going to hurt them. We just have to keep the ties on until with get back to the lab. "

Eddie gives up arguing. The two return and Eddie tosses the bag on top of the tool box. The van slightly fills with the scent of gasoline as Eddie and Steve close the doors. The source being the tube.

Steve rolls down the front windows, letting air filter through the van.

Eddie sits across from me, his shot gun next to him. " We're going to help you. " He reassures me. " We just can't risk that you aren't infected. As soon as we're sure you can get those off. " He glances down at the zip ties.

I nod. " I understand. Thank you for saving me. "

Eddie smiles. " Of course. Couldn't just let you die out there. " He leans back against the van wall, crossing his arms. " We've got a bit of a ride, sit back and relax. "

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bloodlessbelmounte · 1 year ago

Text

As Cold As Death (Part 1)

Part 1|2|3|

Summary:

You've had always lived what felt like a half-life, died more times than you could count. Astarion was a vampire spawn who had been "living" in the shadow of his master. But things change for the both of you when you're abducted by Mindflayers and implanted with tadpoles. With a Cleric of Shar; a Githyanki Warrior; an Escaped Solider for Zariel; the Blade of Frontiers; a Former Chosen of Mystra; the Corpse of a Scribe and the Pale Elf, you venture forth towards Baldur's Gate in the hopes of finding a cure. Where the shadow over Astarion is darkest and the Dead Three 's chosen lurk along the way.

Genre: Romance, Slowburn

Pairing: Astarion/Necromancer GN!Reader (Tav)

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of death, blood drinking, manipulation. More to be added as the fic goes on. Please let me know if there's any I missed.

Word Count: 4.9k

Note: This has been cross-posted to AO3 and can be seen as a prequel to 'Predators and Prey'. No beta, we die like bing bong.

It had been a long and arduous day of exploring and bloody battle. Your grim harvest had done little to assuage the pain emanating from your strained heart. Of all the people to get infected with one of those gods damned parasites it just had to be you. Though at least you weren't alone in this - you had formed a little group with others in your predicament just a few days ago.

You were a ragtag group, some of these people you wouldn't have found yourself associating with if the circumstances weren't so dire. This included the pale elf in your group. Your magic thrummed in his presence, he was of the dead. A vampire. Though he was trying oh so hard to hide that, just not well. The fact that you could clearly see the bite mark on his neck really showed how half-arsed his attempts were. However, you figured that not having a reflection made it hard to know he had successfully covered them.

In fact, when you had awoken in the night to his attempt to feed on you, you just laughed.

“You won't get much from me if you're peckish. I'm not that nutritional and my circulation is horrid at best.” You lounged back on your elbows, peering up at him.

He stood there, arms crossed in dissatisfaction, “What? No shock? No horror? That would at least be some fun to see.”

“You thought you had fooled a necromancer? 'Star, you radiate undeath. You're paler than me and my pallor has been called deathly – not a perk of my school by the way.”

“Hmmm, you did strike me as rather sickly looking.”

“And so you thought I'd make a good snack?” You raised a quizzical eyebrow.

“Look, I'm feeling weak, anyone would do.”

“Your words wound me.” You feigned insult, putting your hand over your heart.

“…You're vexing.”

You took a moment to contemplate the pros and cons of letting him feed from you. The other party members were likely to react negatively to his vampirism and you'd rather not risk him being staked or incinerated. That man's face flashed through your mind unwarranted and gave you the last push you needed.

You huffed a sigh, “If you're truly that weak, I guess I can oblige you. But don't take too much.”

He startled, “Really? I – Of course. Not one drop more. Shall we get comfortable?”

You laid back on your bedroll with a sense of trepidation pooling in your stomach but watched silently as the elf dropped to his knees. He cradled you in his hands and for a moment you wondered if others found his touch to be cold like yours. The thought was interrupted by the sting of his fangs piercing the delicate skin of your neck, like shards of ice. However, after a few moments passed, the familiar feeling of your life being drained away crept in.

You felt it in your fingers first, as your body started prioritising your vital organs over your extremities – the numbness slithering down from the tips of your fingers into your elbows as you fist his shirt, trying to hold on to consciousness. Next, it was your feet. They began to feel like solid ice blocks, you couldn't even wiggle your toes. Your heart began to struggle as your blood pressure dropped, if it weren't for his cradling you, your head would surely be lulling.

“A-Asta…rion. S-stop. That's… enough.” You tugged at his shirt.

By the grace of the gods, he had heard you, quickly releasing you from his maw. You were surprised to see his eyebrows shoot up and his eyes widen.

“Shit, shit, shit. You're going blue! You-”

His voice was lost to you as the all too familiar sensation of death's grip took you. Your face scrunched up in agony until suddenly, pleasantly, you were embraced by nothingness.

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

You awoke with a gasp, your heart stuttering back to life. Gods you hated when that happened. How long were you gone for this time? Your eyes flickered open and you were greeted by the sight of Astarion pacing back and forth. He was mumbling to himself but you couldn't make out what he was saying. You rolled to your side with a groan and he finally looked at you.

“You're alive! But you died! Your heart stopped-”

“Shhh. Wake up the whole camp why don't you?” You shakily pushed yourself up into a sitting position. “Not like this is my first dance with death. Lucky for me it's always cut short.” You laughed dryly.

Astarion's brows pinched together as he joined you on the forest floor, “Here I was weighing up the pros and cons of paying that skeleton to revive you, only to find out I wasn't even your first. Is that why he knew you? Dying a common occurrence for you?”

“More than I'd care to admit. My first death was when I was just a babe. Just dropped dead right in front of my mother. I don't remember it but she certainly does. I've been taken to see numerous clerics and healers, all of whom have been stumped. My affliction is no curse, nor is it ill health. It is simply a part of my being. Like my connection to life is weak but strong enough to keep me out of death's embrace permanently. As for Withers, I don't remember meeting the undead scribe prior to our encounter in the crypt.”

Your brows furrowed as you puzzled over the cryptic nature of the now-resident corpse. He was all riddles. There was a moment of silence as Astarion seemed to contemplate his words, “Dying is a wretched experience. I would pay any cost not to go through it again. You and I… we're more alike than I thought.”

“Tell me about it. All my life I have been compared to vampires. From my pale complexion, my sensitivity to sunlight and a touch my mother said was as cold as death. Only difference between us is that I can't drink blood for nutrients and mirrors are almost useless for you.”

Another moment of silence and then Astarion was up and riffling through the camp supplies, producing a bottle of wine you had recently found. He then grabbed two goblets from his tent.

“I propose a drink to our newly realised mutual understanding and perhaps, an arrangement?”

He poured a glass and offered it to you.

“What would this arrangement be exactly?” You asked before taking a sip.

Astarion swirled the vintage in his goblet, "Let me feed from you, I won't take much, just enough to give me the energy to find something more… filling. In return, perhaps I can help that pretty little heart of yours keep beating. To be honest, you're useful to me and I need you alive. If you need me to shepherd enemies closer to you so you can sap their life force to fuel your own, who am I to judge?"

You took a moment to consider it, "Well, in that case, feel free to sink your teeth into those we battle."

"I like how you think, after all, they're just as dead." He gave you a charming smile, a flash of fang, before downing his drink, "Now forgive me, as invigorating as you were, I need something more satisfying and you could use the beauty sleep, you look paler than my arm." With that, Astarion stood back up and started stalking towards the forest but he paused and looked over his shoulder at you, "This is a gift you know, I won't forget it."

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

The next morning, the rest of your adventuring party were quick to cotton onto the truth of Astarion's nature, probably something to do with the fresh puncture wounds on your neck and the scars on his that mirrored them. Vague threats were made towards him but you were quick to reassure them that it was a) consensual and b) he wouldn't be seeking out any of their necks. You were a tad surprised to see Astarion grab a portion of the morning meal when he didn't need to eat or keep pretending.

You were even more surprised when he unceremoniously handed it to you with a playful jab of: "We need to get you healthier if you're going to be making oh-so-generous donations to myself. You're eating for two now, pup."

"When can I next expect you to come for a nibble?"

"My sweet, there is nothing I'd like more." He placed his hand over his breast in a little half bow, "I'll come to you tonight, when you're snugly wrapped in your bedroll and we can have a little privacy. And this time I'll make sure I'm quiet - we don't want to disturb your rest. You need it more than I do after all. Later on, when we are settled for the day, I'll eat you right up. Just enough to give me strength, and just enough to leave you wishing for more. But, of course, I'll keep your delicate constitution in mind."

You couldn't hold his gaze, unused to such flippant flirtation, so you just shovelled down what you were sure was a lovely breakfast if you weren't too distracted to taste it.

It continued with every meal for the following days, you felt so full, fit to burst. Astarion did visit you most nights. Sometimes you slept blissfully unaware, and on others where sleep could not find you, you had idle conversation in the lead-up to his meal. You were surprised by his confession that you were his first thinking being. The way he talked to Shadowheart about sweet vs savoury hearts and his comment on liking spicy food when Lae'zel threatened him had you thinking he had been feeding like this since the start of his undeath. You felt oddly flattered, almost like it was a privilege to have been the camp member randomly chosen for his first proper taste of living.

As promised, Astarion found ways to lead foes into range of your spells so your grim harvest could be reaped. If there was still life in them afterwards, he always took the opportunity to have a bite to eat. You made quite the duo while the others could focus on the heavy hitters that you did not have the strength to face. This was an especially useful tactic when clearing out the goblin camp. Because although there was the option just to quietly take out their leaders, you hadn't the patience for sneaking about or scheming to get them alone. However, Halsin's complaining when you wanted to go to camp to rest up was getting on your last nerve. You had been up for days with no reprieve. You had run out of spell slots so you could reap no more souls to fuel you. It was all too stressful and you could tell that if you didn't rest soon, everyone would get to witness your lifeless corpse briefly. Frankly, it had upset you that it even happened in front of Astarion. Eventually, you put your foot down and hurried to your tent to rest in privacy.

It wasn't long before that privacy was interrupted. You heard Astarion clear his throat.

"Enter," you called weakly. Gods you hated feeling like this. It took all your energy just to sit up.

He was frowning as he pushed aside the tent curtain and stepped in, "Your heart, I can hear its stuttering. Is there anything that can be done to… steady it?"

You laughed dryly, "If there was anything I could do, I would be doing it right now. I just need rest, so please let me."

He didn't leave, instead, he sat himself down beside you, "Perhaps some food might help? Gale is making a stew. He seemed rather concerned, said you're paler than usual. Which is true, though you're not quite blue in the lips like last time. Shadowheart wanted to check you over for any wounds but I assured her I couldn't smell any bleeding."

You were touched that your party members showed you such concern, you actually managed to smile. It had been years since you felt so cared for.

"Stew does sound nice but sadly I don't have much of an appetite at this time. So no extra portion."

Astarion stood back up and seemed to hesitate for a moment, "Would you like me to inform them of your condition? It might help if you had extra eyes on you."

"I don't want to be a distraction. Just… just tell them I have a weak constitution. That should do."

He nodded his understanding then ducked out. You led back down and strained to hear what was going on outside.

"So? How are they? What's going on?" That was Karlach, there was genuine worry in her voice.

"Tav is fine. They just need rest and a good meal. Apparently, they've been frail since birth."

There was a disgruntled huff, "And you've known this the whole time. Is that why you've been hovering around them like a gnat?" Gale said accusatorially. You could imagine him possibly poking the vampire in the shoulder.

"That's true. I found out rather accidentally and they chose to confide in me. They didn't tell you because they thought you would've forgotten our mission and fawned over them like they were a sickly child." He was agitated.

"My my, I didn't take you for the doting type Astarion. Colour me surprised, you actually care about the well-being of your personal blood bank." You couldn't tell if Shadowheart was joking or not.

"Look as much I love idle chit-chat and gossip, Tav would really like a bowl of stew and that's what I came to get. So I'll just say this, when they've recovered from this little episode, do not crowd them. Stress sets it off."

There was silence and shuffling after that. It wasn't long before Astarion returned with a steaming bowl in one hand and a spoon in the other. You tried to sit up again but your arms gave out causing you to fall back with a thud and a groan. Astarion sighed, set the stew down beside you and did something you had not expected.

He slid behind you and lifted you to rest against his chest. It felt oddly… intimate. Sure you had sat in a similar position when he fed while you were awake - but there was an understanding that the closeness was necessary. Was this necessary?

"Please tell me I don't have to feed you." He huffed.

You took a second to collect yourself and tried to will away what little heat filled your cheeks, "N-no I can do it. But uh… you didn't have to do all this. Thank you."

"I'm just simply keeping up my end of our little arrangement."

"Even though I won't be able to hold up my end until I'm stable?"

"The way I see it, the sooner you're back on your feet, the sooner we can carry on as normal." He placed the bowl on your lap and passed you the spoon. "Now eat up."

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

You got about halfway through your meal before you found yourself drifting off into an oddly peaceful slumber, slumped against the vampire. When you awoke the next morning he was no longer in your tent. You donned your robes and joined the others outside. You sat by the fire and Wyll passed you a portion of porridge.

"How are you feeling? Fighting fit I hope."

You gave him a smile, "I'm feeling right as rain today."

Lae'zel made a noise across from you, "If you are so weak that you are useless to us, it would be easier if I put you out of your misery."

Shadowheart glared at her, "Ignore the gith. We'd all be scattered to the winds trying to solve this by ourselves if it weren't for you. Now that we're all aware of your… limitations we can plan accordingly."

"I agree, perhaps Wyll and I can stay beside you while the others take the battle to our foes," Gale suggested, settling beside you.

You started zoning out as everyone except Astarion talked battle tactics. No, you had focused on him, he was standing off to the side staring at you intently. You could almost see cogs turning in his head. You were snapped out of your daze when he finally spoke.

"By all means, keep the ilk away from our precious leader, just don't get in my way. I have no plans to change how I've been operating because it'd been working just fine until we rescued that pesky bear."

It wasn't long before you all set out again. You came across a priest of Loviatar called Abdirak. He had implored you to go through some sort of ritual pertaining to his goddess of pain and at Astarion's behest you acquiesced. Karlach voiced her disapproval, pointing out that you had only just recovered. Normally you'd try to avoid unnecessary pain but if there was a blessing to be had, you figured you could put on a show. And that you did, you made no effort to hold back your cries of pain as that maniac let loose with a gods damned mace. If you were being honest with yourself, you had been expecting a whip. You couldn't focus on the chatter behind you as the others commentated but you did hear amusement in Astarion and Shadowheart's voices. Needless to say, you promptly downed a couple of health potions after you received the blessing.

You cleared through another room of goblins, dispatching Priestess Gut in the process and taking her worm to shove in your pack. You hadn't quite made up your mind on if you should take the dream visitor's advice. The last thing you wanted to do was put your trust in them and end up a mind flayer faster. As the others looked through the possessions of the dead for anything useful, Astarion took you to one side.

"Darling, I was just thinking about you. Remembering our time together, the things we've shared - and I don't just mean that lovely neck of yours." He chuckled then glanced away briefly only to start fiddling with his fingers when he looked back to you, "I'm growing to like the whole package honestly. And you clearly like me too, so…"

You raised a brow and crossed your arms, "So…?"

"Come now, don't be coy. Your body's already given you away. I could feel it when I was getting lost in your neck." His fingers brushed just millimetres away from your throat, "Your little shivers of excitement. And that delicate blush you had just last night when I held you close. You enjoyed it, didn't you?"

He had crowded your space and you had to break eye contact so that the blush he was on about wouldn't return. Since when did you become so easily flustered? When did he start having this effect on you? You guessed you had always found him to be handsome but it shouldn't bring such a reaction from yourself.

"I'll never tell."

He gently grasped your chin and tilted your face to look at him, he was smirking like a cat who caught the canary, "You don't have to say a thing - I already know how you feel. Because I feel it too." His voice lowered and his thumb brushed along your bottom lip, smearing blood across it, "We could take an evening to ourselves. Get away from camp - get some privacy. I know somewhere quiet. Somewhere intimate. Somewhere we can…" He got impossibly closer, drawing you in with a hand on your hip, all you'd have to do is lean forward ever so slightly to close the distance, "indulge in each other. Feel alive together."

"A less trusting person might think this all sounds very suspicious," Dammit all! That came out sounding breathier than it had any right to!

Astarion gave a quiet laugh and stepped back, "Thank goodness we're all such good, trusting friends, then." He placed a hand over his heart, "On my honour, the only thing on my mind is depraved, carnal lust."

You swallowed the lump that had formed in your throat, "Th-that sounds pretty good to me."

He gave you a toothy grin, "Wonderful. I just hope we don't have to wait too long to steal away. But once we can, I promise you a night you'll never forget. See you there, lover." He gave you a wink and promptly joined the others, making over-the-top pleased sounds when he found a golden goblet.

You leaned back against a wall, hand over your chest as you felt your heart thud and pause, literally skipping a beat. This man had already been the death of you once, and he might just be again if the last of the goblins weren't. Shadowheart noticed you in the corner and came over.

"We can take a short rest if you need it. We'll understand. Lae'zel can complain all she wants. I'd be more than happy to gag her for you."

You shot her a small grin, "I'd appreciate that. Now that the druid has been rescued and fucked off back to his bloody Grove, we can take this at our own pace."

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

You couldn't steal away that night, far too tired from Volo's botched attempt at removing the tadpole and slaughtering the last of goblins in the camp as none seemed to have the sense just to run the fuck away. Sleep took you as soon as you settled for the night but your dream was unusual. The visitor returned and yet again urged you to utilise the tadpoles you had collected from the slain goblin leaders. However, this being had claimed to be stopping the ceramorphosis from progressing as it should. So you were perplexed as to why they would want you to consume more. You awoke, confused and uneasy. A feeling which was compounded when the others came to you, describing a similar experience.

Astarion sat next to you, wordlessly passing you the hearty celebratory breakfast Gale had cooked up. You accepted it with a smile. You could feel the tension that had built between you from his proposition, you had always been a little awkward about… sexual encounters. Not many people want to be bedfellows with a necromancer and thus although you had experience, it wasn't much or recent. So you didn't really know how to talk to someone about it. Astarion, however, didn't suffer from the same anxieties as you.

"I think we should take the day to recouperate, especially with Volo unfortunately mutilating one of your lovely eyes. Though the replacement he supplied has its perks, I imagine that kind of… trauma needs some time to recover from. Perhaps we could visit that Ethel in her cottage. The teiflings aren't in any immediate danger, the Rite of Thorns will have been stopped by that bear of an elf Halsin." He tapped his finger on his chin, pantomiming being in thought, "Now, providing that the 'Dream Visitor' doesn't reappear tonight, perhaps you and I can enjoy a little death." He practically purred those last two words, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, "Figuratively speaking."

The implication of what he said was not lost on you and it took all your will not to hide your face behind your hands as your flush finally appeared at full force. Even your ears felt warm! You struggled to respond, mouth opening and closing uselessly.

"That is if you still want to…" His hand dropped away, he actually looked unsure for once.

"O-of course! I uh- I'm just… not used to uh," you gestured between the two of you, "this kind of thing. Usually, there's a tavern involved, some alcohol and ends with disappointment."

He threw his head back, barking out a laugh. When he met your gaze again, there was something in his eyes you couldn't quite place, an unknown warmth was your best guess in hindsight. "I've been there, Darling. I know exactly what that's like. This is yet another first for me. But trust me when I say, a night with me will leave you far far more than simply satisfied."

Your hands flew up to your face as you held back whatever noise it was trying to escape you. He chuckled and you peered at him through parted fingers, he was grinning ear to ear at the effect he had on you.

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

Auntie Ethel was a wash. She was a hag! An actual fucking hag! And she lost all interest in helping you when she saw you only had one eye remaining. There was a suggestion of one of your motley crew offering up theirs, but you weren't about to make them give up a goddamn eye to a creature as vile as a hag. And poor Mayrina, you couldn't stand aside and let her be swindled by the thing. Especially after you had found Mayrina's brothers dead in the swamp. You informed the poor girl of such and the hag had whisked her away. The ensuing battle was hell and you counted your blessing that no one accidentally killed the lass when the hag took her form.

So back you camp you went, still parasite-ridden.

You spent the lead-up to dinner organising your supplies in your camp chest, Karlach kindly offered to help as she found empty backpacks and trunks to organise things into before putting those into the magiced chest. Astarion's pottering about didn't escape your notice. He was gathering pillows and blankets from his tent and strolling into the woods with them only to return empty-handed a short while later and grab something else to disappear with. On his third trip, he caught your eye and flashed you a smirk and a wink. You almost dropped the bottle of dye you had been holding.

"Careful soldier, don't imagine you want custard yellow shoes," Karlach chuckled.

"Yeah, certainly not." You hastily put the dye in the appropriate satchel and then looked to Karlach who had a shit-eating grin.

"I saw that wink, have plans with a certain pale elf, do we? Can't say I blame ya. I would ride him to the Feywild and back if I had half the chance. And you too, until you were seeing stars. But sadly, I can't unless ya want to get third-degree burns in awkward places."

You choked on your own spittle. Was everyone around you so forward? Or were you simply the prudish one of the bunch?

"Thanks for the ah… compliment. To be honest, I'm out of my depth with this kind of, how to put it, entanglement. But he seems well versed in it. Like it's his forte I guess. Honied words and fleeting touches."

Karlach shuffled on her knees to face you fully, "All the better I'd say, who better to help ya blow off some steam and let loose than a master? Tell ya what, how about I give you some pointers and stuff? Before I was sent to Avernus and had this thing," she gestured to the engine, "put inside me, I used have the ladies and fellas wrapped around my fingers. If you catch my drift." Karlach wiggled her brows and you laughed, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders.

"I'd like that. I could use the pep talk."

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The rest of the day passed quickly with Karlach imparting as much of her bedroom wisdom onto you as possible. And by the time Gale called everyone to dinner, your nerves were at ease. You had to force yourself not to rush through your meal as excitement filled you. Once done, you wished everyone a peaceful night before making your way through the woodlands in the direction you saw Astarion go multiple times that day, the final time being only moments earlier.

For a brief second, you were worried you had gotten lost until you saw his ruffled shirt hanging from a nearby tree branch. And then he was stepping out from behind it. You gulped, he was utterly beautiful haloed by the moonlight. Maybe he was a moon elf before he was turned?

"There you are," He was a vision of grace as he approached you, of elegance even when partially dressed as he was and surrounded by nature, "I've been waiting. Waiting since the moment I set eyes on you. Waiting to have you."

You couldn't help the quip that left your lips, "Since you set eyes on my neck, you mean? You don't have me yet, 'Star." The memory of your first encounter coming to mind.

He chuckled lowly and shook his head, "Don't I? You're here. And I don't think you want to talk." His hand trailed up your arm, "I think you want to be known." His hand cupped your cheek, his other on your hip - once again pulling you into him, "To be tasted."

You gulped, "A…And what do you want?"

He gave a wry smile, "What do any of us want? Pleasure. Yours. Mine. Our Collective ecstasy." He absentmindedly stroked your cheek, "That's what you want, isn't it? To lose yourself in me?"

You leaned into his touch, "I want to forget about everything. I want to live."

"Then tonight, Darling, let's live to our fullest."

His lips were on yours in an instant.

#astarion #baldurs gate 3 #astarion ancunin #astarion fanfic #astarion fic #bg3 #bg3 fic #astarion x tav #astarion x reader

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bokutos-last-brain-cell · 3 months ago

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Hii I absolutely love your bakk ajr series so much!! I love reading fics where bokuto has adhd and you write it with so much care and love. Your fic series is so beautiful and the hurt/comfort is so good!!

I'm sunshinebokuto btw, this is a sideblog so I didn't want it to get confusing since tumblr doesn't let you send send asks from sideblogs hence the anon ajdhdkd I just wanted to say that I saw your tags on my bokuto post and went "wait bakk ajr series?? I remember that!!" ajdhdj it was a nice surprise and it'd be so exciting if you decide to write that in the series!! No pressure or anything at all I just thought I'd let you know that I really love your series <3

OMG wait, you’re one of my readers? That is so cool, what a weird little bit of serendipity that I stumbled across your post!! (Though it does make sense as a fellow Bokuto lover)

Thank you so much for the kind words about my writing in that series, it’s one that specifically holds a very dear place in my heart as a neurodivergent person!

I have been meaning to continue working on the series, I already have multiple WIPs going even, but the reason I haven’t gotten to upload another part to it is because I’ve been running into a couple roadblocks that I can’t seem to figure out, largely due to continuity.

(You don’t necessarily have to read this next paragraph, it’s partially me voicing my thoughts out loud as I ruminate on things, though if anyone has some input on it, I’d love to hear what y’all think) The main one is that I realized about a year and a half ago that alongside being ADHD, I’m also autistic, and it occurred to me that I’ve unknowingly also been writing Bokuto as autistic as a result, but I haven’t included anything about him being autistic in the narrative and introspection of the stories. With the timeline of the main events of the series, he’s already established in his career, but what made me realize that I’m autistic is how much I was struggling with the massive change in routine of living away from home for my last two years of university. Maybe I’m overthinking this and just getting in my own head about it and it really isn’t that complicated but part of me is wondering if it’s too late to incorporate him being autistic??? I want to have his realization be due to the same circumstances but even though I’ve included things into the other stories that allude to him also being autistic, I don’t know if it’d mess with the continuity. Granted, most of the neurodivergent-specific things I’ve touched on in the series have been ADHD-related but Idk if there’s an organic way to just slot in him being autistic too

Either way, I do hope to get to writing more for the series and there’s already a couple I can think of where I could include that little detail you mentioned in your post, so that’s absolutely going to be in the series if I have anything to say about it (And I do, because I’m the author :D)! Thank you once again for the sweet comments, I love hearing from the people who read and enjoy my stories!!

#haikyuu!!#bokuakakuroken #bokuakakuroken ajr series #bokuto koutarou #answered asks #sunshinebokuto #stan’s rambles

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writingforstraykids · 11 months ago

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My beloved cutie mooties🥺🖤

(edited 12.05.24)

🖤@atinyniki🖤

Niki, my beautiful sunshine, I'm so grateful to have you through thick and thin. I'm still convinced you're cute and idc whether you accept that or not. I love talking to you and you're one of the kindest people I know (unless you yell at me you meanie...joking obviously, chill guys😂🖤) I'll always be there for you...also pls stop spending so much money on me cutie😭 Keep shining sunny bunny...love you, pretty girl🖤

🖤@zehina🖤

my beloved (not so silent anymore) bestie, i love our shared European confusion and confusing the others together in return. you're such a cute little kitty and we all know u love being called cute so...you're very cute, deal with it🤭I love our shared stupidity whenever we talk about the boys and seriously, every time you send me your part for the rambles I'd drop to my knees and pay for it bc holy shit. I'll always be there if you need me, keep fighting lovey. love you unnie🖤

🖤@galaxycatdrawz🖤

azzy, I'm so proud of slowly pulling you a little from the shadows you were hiding in😂 also...idk how I managed to do so, but I'm still laughing about achieving most of your tumblr milestones😭 i love sharing requests with you, working out ideas or simply do as you said and write what my brain couldn't figure out. thank you for always being there for me and sharing your brilliant brain with me, co-writer🤭 also it's such a bummer we live so far away bc after what we talked about so far I know you'd be the best cuddle buddy🥺 love you azzy my cutest little thing🖤

🖤@jinnie-ret 🖤

jinnie my dear, even though we haven't talked that much so far, I always love it when we get the chance🤭 can't wait to get to know you better as well and I'm already so excited for that fic👀looveeee your writing sm🖤

🖤@sona1800🖤

you're my newest mootie and I love you so much already it's ridiculous (niki can confirm that🥹) you're always so sweet and you literally outshine every fic with your loving reblogs and comments (I'm just too speechless to answer properly, I really love them🥺) so yeah, that's why you got the tag "the cutest" 🤭🖤

🖤@silverstarburst🖤

Ash. my dear, we don't have that much time to talk usually because you're either working or I'm asleep (a rarity but still). Nevertheless, you have a special place in my heart by now and I'm thankful for your presence in my life. I know who to text if I need someone to kick ass. Your reblogs make me smile like some idiot every time, thank you so much for appreciating my lil dummy ideas so much. love you mama wolf🖤

🖤@slutforchanlix🖤

Miu, babyy, I've made you cry way too often with stuff like this—my bad. I know it's not always easy, but you're one of the kindest people I know, and I love that I have someone with whom I can talk in my native language for once. You're a sweetheart and thank you for always being there for me. I still plan to meet you one day hehe. Long story short, you're amazing, don't let anyone else try to make you believe anything less than that. Bin immer für dich da🖤

🖤@michelle4eve🖤

heyy mimi, we haven't talked much so far...sometimes accidentally when you mistook my icon for niki's I hope that's easier now😂😉 you seem like such a kind soul and I hope we'll get closer over time (no rush dear!) I'm happy over each of your reblogs, especially after you told us you're too shy to do so sometimes. I really appreciate it, you cutie🖤

🖤@chrizzztopherbang🖤

I always loved seeing you pop up in my notifications with your sweet comments. I already think you're a sweetheart, I know we haven't talked that much yet. Still, I loved prereading your fics and getting a glimpse into your genius brain. Don't give up writing as long as you have fun with it, because you're truly amazing at it🖤

🖤@wolfyychan🖤

You've been around on my prior blog already and still my stupid brain didn't realize you've changed usernames for so long😭😂 I always look forward to your excited comments and reblogs, they're truly a boost of motiviation ngl. Hope to have you around for a long time🤭🖤

🖤@james-is-here🖤

Your excitement for that Minchan series made me think about writing bonus chapters for the first time in months. I really love seeing how you get so invested in some of the stories, which makes me want to do better hehe. Also...omg...I'm still thinking about that one fic you wrote a while ago🫠 I'm excited to see what's next and hope we'll get the chance to maybe talk some more🖤

🖤@queer-possum🖤

Without giving away too much, your brain is amazing. I love your requests so much and you're always so kind when I get back to you to make sure I get everything right. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to write about certain topics and stuff I haven't so far🖤

🖤@chanandminhoenthusiast🖤

love, love, loveee your blog (for obvious inspirational reasons😉) you seemed like a very sweet soul whenever we talked before and I'll always be there if you need someone to talk, even about the most random bullshit😂🖤

🖤@palindrome969🖤

You're such a lovely person, I can't even put it into words properly. Your writing is beautiful and I'm still in love with that stargazing fic with Channie😭 always love talking to you and seeing your comments🖤

🖤@5starluvr🖤

I've told you so before, I wanna kiss your brain so bad sometimes. The stuff you come up with for me to write is brilliant. I can't wait to finish more of your requests and share ideas as soon as possible! Love you hehe🖤

🖤@mellhwang🖤

Heyy sweetie, I love seeing you in my notes and I swear I'll get that Minchan x Hyunjin thing done for you!! Thank you for all the love, dear🖤

🖤@lost-in-avoidance🖤

The amount of times I made you choke back tears at work is...concerning and I'm so sorry, I don't do it on purpose, I swear😭😂 your reblogs are always so genuine and make me feel like I did exactly what I wanted to with the fic in question. I appreciate your words so much, thank you!

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shadebloopnik · 9 months ago

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Finally for the first time tryin to draw this man

Just a lil doodle while in class.

Also had the sudden inspo bc of a lil thingy(AU? Would it still be considered AU if i dont plan to expand?). Ik Angel!Alastor AUs are a thing, at least i think so, so i decided to try it out a lil bit.

So tadaaa, Angelic Alastor. I cannot draw wings to save my life, so bear with me. I based the eye shapes and over all facial expressions on how i drew the first Alastor doodle, except its a teeny bit less sharp with less bolder lines. I shaped his hair somewhat the same for the top part, except a bit slicked back with a more windswept look. I imagine his hair would be white with red tips, with an overall white, and red color scheme, with a black collar standing out. He'd have the same red eyess, tho with whites surrounding it.

I gave him two wings, to maybe signify that he is above most angels, though below those such as the Seraphims and Archangels, at least in rank. I was a bit conflicted what to make his cane like(yea ofc im giving him a cane im not a monster). Originally i wanted to copy what his lil antlers looked like, as to be a simple staff, but ended up with that wider antler design. Idk.

Angelic Alastor wouldn't really be much different than Demon Alastor, except for the fact that he's better at hiding it all, at least he wants to. He's quite powerful amongst other angels, moreso than seraphims despite being of lower rank. Similarly to how he can melt in the shadows, as an angel, he can dissolve into the light. Haven't really cemented what exact type of angel he is, though i'd imagine he's still a bit of a recluse, preferring to go off alone to do as he wishes.

Angelic Alastor is every bit as mischievous as his demonic counterpart. He lives for the entertainment, and his humor's quite biting for a being of light. He's sharp and charming and witty, and quite rebellious as well. He's curious about different possibilities, and has never quite felt like he belonged among his "perfect" angelic peers. He knows he's imperfect, and that all those ideas would be considered blasphemous. So he remains quiet, under the radar even with his strength; all to escape the possibility of being persecuted.

Its what draws him to the Morningstar. Lucifer, the powerful archangel with a heart of gold and a mind filled with wonder. (Also to anyone who's seen my blog, yes ofc im inserting radioapple im weak) Despite their gap in rank, Lucifer never treated him any differently, and Alastor found himself treating the shorter angel as an equal. Their friendship was a bit odd perhaps for the others, considering how they'd often greet each other with playful jabs and teasing remarks, all quite informal and rather unruly. He was drawn to Lucifer's ideas, as was Luci to him, both relishing in the fact that they weren't alone, despite being different.

Lucifer had always been the louder dreamer. Though Alastor often agreed with his ideas, and sometimes egged him on, Al knew the risks and knew when to pull back. He was cautious where Lucifer took risks.

And y'all already know its Radioapple but what if we add Lilith to the mix-

Like imagine, Lucifer coming back to Alastor and gushing about the first woman, the taller man amused at his friend's lovesick expressions. Imagine him being acquainted with Lilith, and charmed as well by passion and hopes for change. He's weak for dreamers okay-

Like imagine him helping the two hide their relationship, being the most cautious of the 3. Imagine his heartbreak when the two gets sent to hell. Imagine Lilith and Lucifer holding him, stopping him from falling with them, because he cant do this without them please-

This may have gotten away from me a bit

Anyway, there's also a teeny doodle of biblically accurate Angelic Alastor(idk ehat to call them, but those forms Sera and Em have when they go 👁👁👁👁)

Idk if i'll ever do anytjing with this. I have a whole fic playing in my head but its very long with a whole lot of plot and idk if im strong enough-

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rainbow-nerdss · 1 year ago

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18 😊

Thank you! I had a lot of fun writing this, actually 😁

Send me an ask with a number 1-100 and I'll (maybe) write a short fic or drabble based on the corresponding song in my wrapped playlist

Song 18 on my wrapped playlist:

And So it Goes-Billy Joel

But if my silence made you leave Then that would be my worst mistake So I will share this room with you And you can have this heart to break

It had been weeks of it—this horrible, strangled, something between the two of them. Since Buck met Natalia, Eddie's been feeling it, a sense that this was it. He didn't want to do it. He's been pushing it down for so long, he's not even sure he can. Those words, though. They echo in Eddie's mind. She sees me. Those words… Eddie knew what they meant. He knew, because he knew Buck. Down to his bones, he knew him. And that's what made those words pierce so deeply. They meant this was his last chance.

They meant he had to do something, say the thing he'd been holding inside for three years now. Before it was too late. Before Buck chose her, and everything changed. Because if Buck chose her, then Eddie didn't know if he could stand by, watching Buck happy with someone else. Not with the question which would always linger. Not with the what if. If he knew, if he laid it all out, and Buck chose her anyway… Eddie would be able to live with that. A clean heartbreak, rather than the slow pull. Rip the band aid off. “Hey, Buck. Can we… talk, after work maybe?” He chose a neutral location, somewhere he could avoid afterwards if it all went wrong. A café, where their cups sat steaming between them. He thought about giving a speech, declaring all the ways, all the myriad of ways in which he loved Evan Buckley. But in the end, the words wouldn't come. “Buck, I… I just want to say this, so it's… so you know. And then you can… I don't want to say you have to choose, but you'll have all the information, if you… if you wanted to choose.” He felt inexplicably like he was handing Buck his still-beating heart, asking whether he wanted to break it. It was too much, he'd said too much. “Choose what? Eddie, are you okay? Is this about Chris?" Buck frowned at him, clear and open worry on his face. “No it's… it's you. It's me. Buck, I'm in love with you.” Silence. Even the sound of their fellow cafe patrons dimmed to nothing in Eddie's ears as he waited for Buck to answer. To react. To do anything. “Eddie, you… wait, what do you mean choose?” Eddie shook his head at Buck's expression, shock mingled with sadness. “I'm not saying it's got to be me or her. I don't want this to be an ultimatum, but you deserved to know. If you choose to be with her, I'll… I'll need some time, and you deserve to know why I'm gone.” “You love me.” “I do.” “And you're… it sounds like you're bracing for me to break your heart.” “I guess I am, yeah. If I could… If I could just decide what happened in the future, I'd want to spend the rest of my life with you. Sickness and health and all the other clichés. But it's not my choice, is it? And if you never knew, it could never…” “Eds.” Eddie released a shuddering breath. “Buck.” Buck reached across the table right as Eddie began to pull away, and wrapped a hand around Eddie's. “Eds, this is… I wish you'd told me this before. Months ago, years ago, even” “I left it too late. I get it.” Eddie felt the cracks form in the depths of his heart. This was worse, so much worse than a clear rejection. “Eddie, no. It's… I wish you'd told me sooner, because then I could've done this sooner.” And Buck practically dove across the table, pulling Eddie in at the same time, and kissed him. “Of course it's you, Eddie. Of course it is.”

#buddie #buddie ficlet #buddie fic #evan buckley #eddie diaz #my fic

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kept-confidence · 5 months ago

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Closing Time

This piece began first as a private daydream, Later, it grew into a daydream shared with a newfound friend (@imonthemoonitsmadeofcheese). With that came a wash of creativity over me that I decided, for once, to fully submerge myself in. This is also now on Ao3, found here. The song that I imagine Drifter singing in this piece is titled "Martha", and is sung by Tom Waits. The song that I imagine being played in the scene — the trumpet and piano duet — is titled “Closing Time”, and is also by Tom Waits. This is a personal favourite of mine. Note: I'd highly recommend putting "Closing Time" on when you're at the montage section — I imagine it'd be a nice experience overall while you imagine the scene being described. There is nothing violent here — only tenderness and kindness founded upon a moment of healing. I am no expert in handling tender moments between individuals, and sometimes struggle to describe them. I make up for it, perhaps, in metaphor. I’m always inspired by music, and I guess that’s where the daydream emerged from in the first place. I also cooked this up in a day which is absolutely hilarious (neurospicy brain things). This is my first fic, which is nice, I think. Hope you enjoyed reading this! Comments are hugely appreciated (and I'd love to meet new folks who are into this ship as much as I am).

The door opened slowly with a gentle push, creaking loudly in response to decades of wear and neglect as it swung open and away from the Drifter. For a place that had been left largely abandoned, forgotten, and untouched — likely intentionally by its owner — any sort of movement and sound felt sacrilegious, like intruding upon a sacred space that should have, perhaps, been left alone.

Drifter breathed a heavy sigh as he hesitated to take a step into what used to be his old bar. It should feel like a place he owns, one that he feels welcome in, he tells himself. But the air responds otherwise — the dominant scent of stale, damp wood rendering it thick, musty, and overbearing. If anything, the air was weighed down heavily by memories of the Drifter's past — of old selves torn away and discarded, of ghosts he'd rather forget, and of a time that no longer seemed welcome nor accessible. It had been weighed down by the burden of change.

Why had he come here? A rhetorical question to himself, but one that occupied his mind nonetheless.

Now restless, the Drifter took to rolling his green coin across his knuckles in a bid to calm his mind. Despite this, there was no denying the fact that his breathing had since grown rather shallow and irregular at the prospect of having to enter this forsaken space. Nonetheless, he figured that he'd lingered outside enough.

"Eh, gotta go in at some point, I guess," he muttered to himself, words trailing off, as he defaulted to erecting a wall of indifference once more. It was, perhaps, what he thought to be the only way to keep himself safe.

With soft and quiet steps, the Drifter finally stepped into the bar with a sense of trepidation that he wished he didn't have to feel, especially for a place he knew he once had some attachment to. Though he'd expected things to look different, he had to admit that the space of his bar — though theoretically the same as how he'd left it last — felt different. His heart skipped a beat as his senses slowly became more attuned to the apparent dissonance in the once lively (though chaotic) space he owned. After all, the mind can only prepare one so far — the heart, however, will always be tugged along, albeit unwillingly, in directions undesired and unwanted. For someone who had survived so much, who thrived on instability, chaos, and change as a means of putting up walls and abandoning the past, it would seem that for a rare moment, the Drifter would finally admit to himself that he'd been subconsciously wishing for something in his life to, at least, remain the same.

The silence was piercing — ringing, even. It was in stark contrast to a sonic memory of a boisterous time once filled with excitement and activity. The Drifter could almost imagine the scene that accompanied it, but as he called forth that memory in his mind, the dissonance grew louder and more discordant. He promptly shut the door to that memory, and instead found himself stemming the discomfort by fixating on the sound of his footfalls as he fidgeted and shifted his feet in a bid to punctuate the silence pressing into him. Grounding, as Eris had once taught him. Where these footfalls had once been crisp and confident, heard in tandem with the voices of comrades and enemies both lost to time, they were instead now faint and muted no thanks to the thick layer of dust that blanketed what used to be dry and clean wooden floorboards. As each step unsettled the caked-on dust on the floor, leaving imprints of his boots, the Drifter directed his attention to his footfalls and simply looked. Dust was gently being dislodged, then lifted, and finally fell off the tips and soles of his boots. He could feel it — that each shift, each step, carried with it the heaviness of time, and its burden laid bare for him to witness. Breathing in deeply, Drifter felt the discomfort ease ever so slightly, as he was finally reminded of why he'd come back to the bar in the first place.

To learn to embrace change while not abandoning the past. It was an answer to his question from before, but one that he knew, acutely, that its execution would not come as easily as hoped. Ideally, the process would happen on its own, without any need for effort — but that would be nothing more than a lofty dream. By this point, there was perhaps no escaping the fact that it was time for him to face his past, head on.

Before his mind could stray any further, he felt a buzz from the databad tucked neatly beneath his robes. The Drifter retrieved it, and smiled softly when he saw who the message was from.

EM: Germaine, you are not on the Derelict. D: Aw Moondust! Missin' me already? You should've just said so! EM: Answer the question, Rat. Where are you? D: I'm at the old bar. The one I used to own? From waaaaaaaay before? The one Efrideet trashed? EM: It's three in the morning, Germaine. What are you doing there? Are you alright?

The Drifter's fingers hovered in the air for a moment as he contemplated how to reply to her question — specifically, the latter one. Like always, he decided that he'd ignore it.

D: Catching up on old times, I guess. EM: I see. You did not answer the second question. Would you like company?

Caught. Nothing new — Eris always knew.

D: Yeah. Thanks, Moondust. Seeya in a bit.

The gentle smile didn't leave the Drifter's face even as he tucked the datapad back in its place. For him, Eris's company was always welcome. But this was even more so true for today — with the weight of the past and of this space still holding him down like a Sisyphean boulder on his sholders. Though he wasn't expecting her to know more about it, or to help him lift it, he imagined that it would, at least, be nice to have her company while he worked though and unravelled the attachment to this place he had long since buried. There was, after all, comfort to be found in the gentle intimacy of vulnerability they had since learned to share in time.

Just as he'd finished ruminating, the Drifter felt his arm brush against yet another thick layer of dust as he walked past a large, boxy object. He turned, and let out a tiny, silent gasp of awe as he came to realise what was in front of him — it was a piano. It had been such a long time since he'd played one, not to mention seen one in the first place. The piano was no Steinway, of course. Just an upright Baldwin that had been salvaged from way before. The Drifter chuckled as he recalled just how out of tune it was when he had salvaged it, and how he'd managed to tinker with the piano enough that it at least sounded mostly reasonable. For a moment, he wondered if his work had stood the test of time. Orin was convinced that it would.

He tensed, and held his coin tightly between his thumb and index finger. It was inevitable that the train of thought would lead him down that road. He'd been the one to salvage the piano and to tinker with it, but it was Orin who witnessed all of this happening — who laughed with him, and groaned at him each time he failed to fix the piano's tuning. She was the one who made the memory feel real when it would've otherwise been like any other memory — a generic piece of paper burnt to a crisp.

This was the memory he'd come to confront. Right as he was about to fall off the edge into a memory-induced panic, the Drifter caught himself and grounded himself once more. Move the coin across the knuckles. Flip it between these fingers, and then the others. Shifting feet. Fidget a little. Grip the coin, then loosen that grip. In that release, the Drifter's tension eased a little as well.

He dragged himself back into the present moment. In it, there was a quietude that ached in the space around him, as the Drifter took the time to take in the scene laid in front of him. Slowly, he took a few steps back, and gazed softly at the piano. The sight was, frankly, captivating. Moonlight streamed in from the holes in the roof that had since come to plague the bar, touching — even caressing — the piano ever so slightly. In these beams of moonlight, particles of dust travelling in the air were illuminated. For a space where its stillness initially bordered on suffocation, the Drifter finally felt himself attuned to the sensation and observation of the most minute movements. The way his breathing shifted the dust travelling around him, visible through the rays of moonlight. The way the clouds cast shadows on the ground as they momentarily blocked the moonlight. He felt just a little better about being here.

Feeling inspired by the sight, he pulled out the piano bench and sat on it. No one would have issues with someone playing a piano at the base of Felwinter Peak at three in the morning, of course. Drifter pulled his gloves off, placing them neatly on the top of the piano. He had done so instinctively, as if wanting to truly feel and reminisce the texture of the keys with his own fingers. As he swiped one finger gently across the surface of the piano’s unopened cover, he was reminded once again of change — of time and age. Parts of the dislodged dust now hung on the tip of his finger. The truth is, he didn’t have to do that. He could’ve simply opened the piano cover. Yet, for the Drifter acknowledging that presence of dust, feeling it, and shifting it away, felt like an active recognition and acceptance of a time long gone. Of change.

The Drifter proceeded to lift the cover of the piano, which took a little bit more than a gentle struggle simply because of how long it had been left unopened. It inspired a simple metaphor in his mind — he thought of how the dust, when left undealt with, would work itself into the seams of the piano like a glue that seals all things shut, making it even harder to pry open. He visualized that momentarily in himself, with the dust that had settled into the seams of his own box that contained his heart and his past. It was, indeed, one that he was also struggling a little to open. He would try today, perhaps.

Beneath the cover lay the piano keys. Some were chipped, and some were stuck in a half-pressed position no thanks to the lack of maintenance. But for the Drifter, it was, in fact, the same as he had left it — it had been untouched for decades, chips consistent with his memory, and the sticky keys were still, well, sticky. There was no fixing those, he remembered, chuckling to himself.

It would become clear eventually that for the Drifter, memory is a muscle, and muscle memory never fails. His hands naturally fell into position, and for some strange reason, prepared themselves in the key of D#. He pressed down on the keys ever so delicately — perhaps to him, they seemed so fragile that they might break under the weight of his burdens.

But they didn't, and instead produced a faint chord in D#. He lifted his fingers, and pressed once more — now confident the keys would not crumble under him. The sensation — both of the keys, and of the sound received — was, to him, extremely familiar. Let memory lead, let memory take charge. The heart knows what it needs, he reminded himself. And from there, notes and chords pieced and flowed together, and the Drifter began to play a tune. He knew not what it was titled, or who had sung it originally, but he only remembered hearing it being played once by a visitor to the bar who had kindly asked for permission to play the piano. All he knew about the tune was that it was from the golden age — a song from a time now long gone, now being revisited in the present.

As he progressed through the instrumental introduction to the song, Eris slipped quietly into the bar, undetected. The Drifter was too immersed in the moment that Eris refused to even think of interrupting it to announce herself. Gently and ever so silently, she perched herself on a bar stool that was still loosely intact, knees crossed, listening to his performance intently. She couldn't help but smile at the sight she was witnessing — but nothing could prepare her for what would come next, as the Drfiter began to sing.

“Operator, number please It's been so many years Will she remember my old voice While I fight the tears?

Hello, hello there, is this Martha? This is old Tom Frost And I am calling long distance Don’t worry ‘bout the cost

Cause it’s been 40 years or more Now, Martha, please recall Meet me out for coffee Where we’ll talk about it all”

The words fell out of his mouth so naturally like a confession sung aloud to himself. His singing voice was low and ever so slightly gravelly, but there was a genuine tenderness to it a huge shift from his usually crass and sometimes insufferable modes of expression, Eris thought. It felt like a warm embrace — where words held on tightly to harmony, Eris instinctively found herself drawn towards and into the moment as well. As his gravelly voice continued to be sounded out — brushing against and touching her eardrums — a memory resurfaced. Eris couldn't help but recall the first time she ever placed her hand on his cheek as a gesture of care and love. She remembered how he leaned into her hand in return, and most prominently, the sensation of his beard tickling her palm. This felt similar — and it was comforting.

At the same time, Eris was sure in this moment that her dear Rat was feeling more than just "old times", as he'd preferred to call it. If the lyrics weren't enough proof of this, the melancholic instrumental lines that accompanied the song were. In this song was nostalgia tinged with grief — a wistfulness of love once found and later lost, of time spent searching to no avail. She took a look around the bar and was met with the same scene of moonlight the Drifter had seen earlier. If he feels it's too much, he will know he's at least surrounded by moonlight, she thought to herself, reassuringly.

Meanwhile, the Drifter continued:

“And those were the days of roses, poetry and prose And, Martha, all I had was you, and all you had was me There was no tomorrows, we'd packed away our sorrows And we saved them for a rainy day

And I feel so much older now And you're much older too How's your husband and how's the kids? You know that I got married too?

Lucky that you found someone To make you feel secure Cause we were all so young and foolish Now we are mature”

As the chorus made its first iteration, it was evident by now that Martha, for the Drifter, was undoubtedly Orin. The mood in the air was suffused with a warm, gentle longing to revisit the past, to catch up with an old friend, an old lover. To simply ask, how are you doing? Perhaps it might've seemed that the Drifter was singing this to or for Orin, but Eris knew better than that. Despite the clear dedication to Martha drawn out by the lyrics — the incessant yearning and desire to return to the past — Eris had no doubt that her Rat was instead singing to his memory of Orin and his past experiences with her. He was, through this song, acknowledging the reality of his past — one that he had, at many times, tried to shut away with bursts of denial and detachment. The intention here was indeed very different.

The chorus looped around a second time, and then:

“And I was always so impulsive I guess that I still am And all that really mattered then Was that I was a man

I guess that our being together Was never meant to be And Martha, Martha I love you, can't you see?”

Eris heard the Drifter stutter a little on the last line, his voice shaking as he held the last note for a second. And then he paused for a moment, hands laid on the keys, but frozen in time.

He said nothing for a while, and ruminated. Eris watched, but chose not to intervene — this was an important moment for him, one reserved for himself, and she would respect that.

Finally, in the now drawn-out silence, he said to himself, quietly: "I loved you, Orin. This dude who wrote the lyric's still hung up on Martha. But for me? I don't love you. Not anymore. I loved you." Eris held her breath and clutched her Ahamkara bone closer to her chest as she heard the Drifter draw out the end of the word 'loved', clearly juxtaposed against the present, and original 'love' written into the song. She let go of that breath, and smiled. It was not that she needed reassurance — that safety and security had long been found in the foundation of their friendship and relationship. Instead, she simply felt a sense of pride for her dear Rat, who had finally taken active steps to work through the grief he had amassed in his heart from his time with Orin and beyond. It was no wonder that she had grown to love this man so very much — at no point in the time they knew each other did he ever expect her to fix his grief and his heart, and all he ever asked for, as she had now grown accustomed to providing, was her company through it all.

Picking up his playing once more, the Drifter worked his way through the final chorus, before concluding the song with the words:

"And I remember quiet evenings Trembling close to you.”

The last note from the piano resonated in the space of the bar, before the song faded into a final, concrete silence. The Drifter exhaled — it was a heavy one, but one that also seemed to bring him relief, as if he'd finally come to terms with what it meant to let go. He removed his hands from the keys, and proceeded to place them by his side as he pressed them softly into the bench. He gazed upwards, looking through one of the holes of the roof where the moonlight seemed to be pouring in from. It was a tiny whisper directed at the ray of moonlight, but one audible enough for Eris to hear from where she was seated.

"Thanks for keeping me company through it, random ray of moonlight."

Eris rose from the bar stool, finally making her presence known. And though slightly startled, the Drifter wasn't shocked enough to whip out Trust — he had been expecting her after all, though he had frankly no idea how long she'd been behind him all this while.

"You're welcome," she said, smiling, while crossing the bar towards him, still seated at the piano. In response, he scooted over to the side as an invitation for her to sit beside him. She does.

There was a moment of gentle silence — the air was no longer as still as it once was, and it was quiet enough that they could hear each other breathe almost in unison. She placed her hand over his, and he turned his palm over to intertwine their fingers together. He thought about asking her how long she'd been there for, but held back because he could already guess the answer to that.

"That was beautiful, Germaine. How do you feel?" Eris asked, in hushed tones.

For a man usually of many words, the Drifter struggled to gather any of a proper response. He simply sighed, and squeezed her hand, gazing at the moonlight through the roof once more. There was a warmth in his gesture, as if to say, I'm working through it still, but thank you for being here. She squeezed his in return, gently drawing circles on his hand with her thumb, as if to respond with take your time, I'm here, and I'll stay. With yet another sigh, he leaned over, and positioned his head on her shoulder, snuggling softly into the space that he'd already claimed as his multiple times. She turned her head to kiss him on his forehead, before simply leaning her head on his.

It wasn't clear if he had started to cry, or was simply taking in the moment. He might have — but that was something meant only for Eris's eyes, and no one else. A private moment between the two. There was, perhaps, no need to know as well. Not everything needs to be witnessed, not everything needs to be known.

-------

It felt like a scene from a film. A montage of quiet, gentle moments.

scene begins, all dark; "closing time" by tom waits begins to play. a duet between a wistful trumpet and a plangent piano resonates in the air. cut / close-up shot of the hole in the roof. moonlight is pouring in through it, and a crescent moon can be seen from the hole — clouds drift past in front of it. cut / various still shots of the bar in disrepair — broken chairs, rotting wood, layers of dust, torn curtains at the windows. cut / a still shot, now framing the back of the drifter and eris sitting side by side on the piano bench, the drifter's head on her shoulder, her head lying on his in return. cut / a close-up, still shot of fingers interlaced with each other. cut / return to previous still shot of the drifter and eris on the piano bench, now pulling away with a backwards dolly. the two are now framed in relation to the larger space of the bar — as well as the moonlight. the camera remains in this position for a significant amount of time compared to the previous shots. cut / fade to black. the song is still playing. two sets of footfalls are heard — the heavy sort made from boots, though one is notably softer than the other. the sound of these footfalls pan from the far centre, closer to the front, and finally to the left. a door is heard creaking open, and then closed. the footfalls fade into the distance. song fades into silence. end scene.

#eris morn #drifter/eris #destiny #drifteris #moonrat #drifter #insufferable rat man #destiny 2 #the drifter #the drifter/eris morn #writing

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got-into-worm-by-mistake · 4 months ago

Text

Interlude 15.x Live Reactions

(This is going to be a very - no, insanely - long post)

As I noted, after this I'll be trying (ha!) to read faster, and on my phone more so I can just get this done.

This is gonna be an interesting read. Purportedly, after all, this is where we're supposed to get the idea that Amy raped Vicky. Though supposedly Wildbow had to do a line by line analysis to make that point on reddit (which I have not read) and I feel like if you have to do that for something like rape, you've kind of failed your task as a writer, at least in terms of conveying what you meant.

I wish, even more than usual, I could be coming into this fully blind but I'm not. I know the 'official' interpretation of this scene is rape, and that the text of the sequel makes it canonical that Amy raped Vicky here, but I also know large numbers of people never got that take, and Wildbow somehow spent years not noticing massive swaths of his readership didn't realize rape had happened... supposedly.

We'll see if I come away convinced that rape is the best reading that can be constructed from this scene, though from what I gather, it's more that a rape reading in this scene feels wildly out of place with all of Amy's other stuff.

It's certainly hard to reconcile the Amy we just saw in Arc 14 with Raping Vicky, though 14.10 makes it not impossible.

Of course, since I'm not coming in blind - I'm aware of the official version, and I've seen some people make the arguments in support of that reading and I've seen a bunch of arguments against that reading, etc - it's not like that all won't be hanging over all of this.

And the thing is, on a certain level, it doesn't actually matter. In the context of the universe itself, it certainly matters, but from the perspective of all these characters not actually existing in the real world, it doesn't really much matter to me.

On the level of Amy's actions: What she does do to Vicky that everyone agreed on (changing her brain, then mind controlling her in 14.6 and 14.10, not immediately removing the 'love me' change from Vicky's brain, wretching her - intentionally or accidentally or a mix or w/e - and not fixing her brain at any point there, and so on) is a gross and horrifying betrayal and a deep, deep violation of Vicky's mental and bodily autonomy. Making actual, real rape a thing that happened here as well is just icing on a cake, really, in a lot of ways, in the context of Worm. (Ward can and will be safely ignored for the rest of this post - in just a moment anyway)

For another, while it appears a lot of readers and fans did turn on Amy - her popularity in the fandom and in fics and stuff purportedly took a bit of a nosedive after the rape was made clear in Ward and in Wildbow's various WoG, though apparently there were still people who read Ward and missed that rape was made clear (Maybe use the word? Apparently Wildbow doesn't even use that word in Ward), it wouldn't actually change much for me.

(Now ignoring Ward)

See, some of my favorite fictional characters have comitted rape.

Damon Salvatore? Mass murderer and... though the narrative doesn't really linger on it, he rapes Caroline Forbes in early Season 1, and his girlfriend that he gets at the end of S2 (I think) and is dating in early S3 is a relationship so full of Compulsion (mind control ability vampires have in TVD verse) that it's moved well past dubcon, I'd say. And there's probably other shit like that in the man's past. Again, the narrative doesn't linger, but it's fucking rape. Still love Damon, amazing character, my trash son, but yeah, committed rape. Absolute monster, by any reasonable standard.

Regina Mills - again, mass murderer, tyrant, and... at the very least, she raped the Huntsman for possibly up to 38 years. (Again, it's never clearly stated, but she ripped out his heart - which in OUAT verse is a thing dark magic allows that lets the holder of the hard dictate commands to the person and also just kill them if they crush it - and then commanded her guards to bring him to her chambers. Ten years later, she casts the dark curse, and the Huntsman's cursed persona is having sex with her about once a week, at least, for the next 28 years, though given the nature of the curse, only Regina and later her son Henry are aware of the passage of time.) Regina is my favorite OUAT character, has an amazing redemption arc, and is unquestionably a hero to the point where she's crowned the 'Good Queen' in the series finale by Snow White (i.e. the girl she became evil while chasing revenge on). The narrative doesn't really linger on it, I'm not even sure the writers quite realized that it was rape, but I never believed it anything else. Still love her, because she and the Huntsman are both entirely fictional. Not real people.

On BtVS, Faith attempts to rape Xander, and basically does rape Riley while in Buffy's body (Riley is Buffy's boyfriend and thinks it's Buffy he's having sex with. Also she also effectively rapes Buffy by having sex with Riley while in control of her body). I still love her, one of my favorite characters. Again, the narrative doesn't really linger on this (the show in general has a bad habit of not lingering on female-on-male sexual violence or sexual harrassment).

Also on BtVS, Willow wipes her girlfriend's (Tara) memory so she forgets a pretty serious argument they were having, and then they have sex the next day, which Tara would probably not have had if she was still angry with Willow. While the show never calls it rape, I and large parts of the fandom consider it as such. (Tara never calls it rape either, though she is incredibly furious with Willow when she finds out, and they break up - and then get back together 12 episodes later, buuut :shrug) Still big fan of Willow, Tara/Willow is still the biggest ship for willow and one of the largest ships in the fandom.

Now, it's true that in all four cases, the writers either didn't realize it was rape, or didn't care and never really address it, but the key point is that I am perfectly capable of being a huge fan of Amy and wanting to see her redeemed/get better/etc (which I am and do) and accepting that she committed rape. So it's not like I'm going to just insistently refuse to see rape

Now, apparently part of the argument against the 'rape happened' reading is also how 15.x fits into the rest of the work, both before, and after, with regards to the fact that (apparently) Amy doesn't really talk about Vicky with any sort of sexual element, just a worshipful adoration, etc, (and the fact that rape never comes up and so forth) which I won't know until I get that far. But again, it is worth noting that large numbers of people didn't get rape as the intended reading, which again, seems like a pretty big detail to fail to convey to the reader. It's worth nothing that the comments for 15.x on the actual worm website mention 'mindrape' and that it felt 'rapey' but not 'rape' full on.

Now, with a much larger preface than intended, let's actually read this godforesaken Interlude.

Actually, having done the live reaction below, I'm gonna put it all below a readmore

Some of that was fatigue, some of it was hunger, some was thirst. She had no idea how much time had passed. She might have been able to guess from her period, but her body had decided such would be a waste of precious resources. It hadn’t come, and she had no idea how many weeks or months it had been.

You only keep a Kidnap victim for weeks or months if you think there's a chance of a ransom. The fact that Carol's parents refused to just fucking pay the goddamn ransom for that long says a lot about how shit they were. Carol absolutely sucks as a mother, but she did have a pretty shitty starting point (though, somehow, somehow, Sarah managed to be at least halfway decent, so Carol could have come out better, but now I'm trying to compare traumas here and that's pretty sucky, but remember this is a Carol Dallon Hate Blog)

“Amy has always insisted she couldn’t heal brain injuries.” Alan winced. “I see. The worst sort of luck.” Carol smiled, but it wasn’t a happy expression. “So imagine my surprise when, after weeks of taking care of my husband, wiping food from his face, giving him baths, supporting him as he walked from the bedroom to the bathroom, Amy decides she’ll heal him after all.”

Love how she just glosses over the part where Bonesaw actively did even more, possibly eventually fatal, damage to Mark's brain. Even when she does Mention Bonesaw invading the house below, she doesn't mention that part.

I feel like Mark would be able to mention that, so I'm sure Carol is just conviently ignoring the part where Amy was faced with 'Mark fucking dies if I don't break my rule'

“Oh, I imagine she was. Victoria went looking for her after she ran away, returned home empty-handed. I think she was even more upset than I was, with Amy taking so long to heal Mark. She was almost inarticulate, she was so angry.”

So that would suggest that at least at first Vicky doesn't tell Carol what Amy did to her. Which would fit with Vicky saying she hadn't told anyone back in the early parts of Arc 14 (don't remember which chapter she said it) but the context could have just meant 'didn't tell the Protectorate/PRT' Though, it does still leave the open question: Amy was running around the city for fucking DAYS, a week possibly? between Interlude 11h and when she shows up in Arc 14.2 or 14.3. Did Carol even look for her? Why isn't she looking fucking now? She's your daughter, right, and Slaughterhouse Nine is looking for her too?

Is Sarah looking? Mark? Crystal?

Even if you don't love her or care about her, you shouldn't want S9 to have ahold of her, so maybe look for her rather than FUCKING FILE PAPERWORK?!

Carol fidgeted. “Oh, that wasn’t even the worst of it. Victoria’s been flirting with the notion of joining the Wards, and she went out to fight the Nine just a few days ago. Apparently she was critically injured. She was carried off for medical care and nobody’s seen her since.”

Ah, so this is now happening post-S9 leaving the city (though there's still no mention of Carol looking for her) and she's... not even looking for Vicky?

Like, okay, big city, might not be able to find her, but I feel like if I had a kid that I purportedly loved (as Carol does supposedly at least love Vicky, in her own horrible abusive sort of way) and said kid was missing and I had superpowers making it safe to go looking, I would be looking, damn the goddamn paperwork.

This woman just can't actively not suck.

Also, of all the people to be talking about this to, why the fuck is it Alan Barnes. Just a weird character to use for this. Is it supposed to be a juxtaposition - Carol was a neglectful bitch and Alan a too supportive parent and both ended up screwing their kids up?

“Or dead,” Carol said. She blinked a few times in rapid succession, fighting the need to cry. “I don’t know. I was patrolling, searching, and I felt my composure start to slip. I feel like shit for doing it, but I came here, I thought maybe if I took fifteen minutes or half an hour to center myself, I could be ready to start searching again.”

Okay, so there's that, so she was looking and just (understandably) needed a moment, but again - did you look for Amy at all earlier? Did fucking anyone? Somehow no member of New Wave actually showed up anywhere during Arcs 12 or 13 or 14, apart from Amy and Vicky.

He’d tried to attack them? Carol couldn’t understand it. He was the one who’d taken care of them. When he’d appeared, she’d been happy. And now it felt like that had been ruined, spoiled. She felt betrayed and she couldn’t understand why.

Stockholm Syndrome is a hell of a drug. But trigger trauma isn't much of an excuse, Carol, really fucking isn't.

“We didn’t know where you were. But let’s not fight again. The important thing is that Tattletale pointed us in the right direction. We think we know where your daughters are.” Daughters? Plural? Carol couldn’t put a name to the feeling that had just sucker-punched her.

Right, because with what little you know about the situation, you shouldn't actually have much reason to be that worried.

Technically, you're right this time, which I really kind of hate on the 'Carol Sucks' level of my personality, but you have no valid basis, because your paranoia was not actually well-founded.

The Brockton Bay Brigade closed in on the man who stood by his leather armchair, wearing a black silk bathrobe. He held his ground. “If you’ll allow me to finish my wine-” he started, bending down to reach for the wine glass that sat beside the armchair.

Marquis really is the textbook fucking definition of classy, isn't he? :rofl:

It meant she didn’t fall on her rear end, and she could pick a more appropriate posture as she snapped back into her human shape.

I mean, falling on your ass in a fight is just bad from a tactical standpoint, but also, I mean, you can't go losing style points, right?

The needles retracted. Marquis rolled his shoulders, as if loosening his muscles. “Broke your foot? How clumsy.”

If nothing else, he's fun.

Well, only in a sense. They still hadn’t touched him, and two of their members were out of commission. Three, if she counted Fleur being occupied with a wounded Lightstar in her arms.

And so let's use his child against him! Great move!

Let's invade someone's home without checking to see if there's any innocents around! GREAT PLAN!

Was he distracted?

Maybe ask yourself why.

Though, I will say - Marquis didn't have to play Coy. He quite literally could have just said 'my daughter's in that closet'. They might not have believed him, but it wouldn't have been hard to show them.

I'm not saying I don't get why he didn't, but technically Marquis didn't make the most optimal choice here.

But that... happens.

“Careful now,” Marquis chided her. “Don’t want to get decapitated now, do we?”

*giggle*

Instead, she turned and charged for the closet, creating a sword out of the crackling energy her power provided, slashing through the plates of bone that had surrounded it, then drawing the blade back to thrust through the wooden door-

I dunno. I know it's Amy - we all know it's Amy, at this point, even people reading Blind - and we're inclined to dislike Carol anyway at this point, again, even people reading Blind, I assume - but this just seems incredibly foolish.

Like, I guess maybe leaping straight to 'there's a kid there' might be a bitch much, and Carol in particular probably would have a hard time imagining Marquis as caring about another person because she's projected her issues with her kidnapper onto him for... reasons, but I mean, he could have a wife (or husband, I suppose) or girlfriend or all manner of things in there you may not want to hurt, and like... I dunno, I'd at least fucking open the closet before swinging in there? Maybe?

Fic idea - Marquis is a little too slow, but instead of killing her (I have read one fic where that happened. Marquis, understandably, kills Carol right after) he like, maims Amelia or something, cuts off her arm, or gives her a major scar or something.

That could be a really interesting story. Especially if Marquis still gets beaten, or Carol gets away and has to look at her daughter after having done that.

(I may hate Carol, but I can't imagine she'd be blithe about having maimed an innocent child, even Marquis kid, in the middle of a fight.)

*ads the fic idea to the list, which won't stop growing*

She stared down at him. That long hair, it was such a minor thing, but there was something else about him that stirred that distant, dark memory of the lightless room and the failed attempt at ransom. Her skin crawled, and she felt anger boiling in her gut.

This is so insane and then you take that projection and add a second layer onto Amy and like what the ABSOLUTE FUCK is wrong with you sick little woman?

“What were you so intent on protecting?” Manpower asked. “This where you stash your illegitimate gains?”

Because Marquis didn't just say he didn't really care if they destroyed his expensive home a few minutes ago. Jesus Christ Manpower really is a dumb brute, isn't he?

“Her mother’s gone, I’m afraid. The big C. Amelia and I were introduced shortly after that. About a year ago, now that I think on it. I must admit, I’ve enjoyed our time together more than I’ve enjoyed all my crimes combined. Quite surprising.”

Is that actually a thing anyone does? Or ever did? Is that a Canadian thing? Or a new england slang? 90s Lingo? I feel like no one has ever called Cancer 'The Big C' before.

That feels like something a writer - not necessarily Wildbow - invented and people just ran with even though it wasn't actually a thing people did.

If Marquis had realized how fucking terribly Carol would have raised Amy, I have to imagine he'd have settled for foster care instead. :rofl:

The idea disturbed her.

Why? Maybe get some fucking therapy for that, bitch? Seriously.

WHY THE FUCK DOES THIS DISTURB YOU?!

Maybe ask yourself that question?! But then, I suppose if you were capable of a single iota of self-examination, you would not have been such a shit mother and indeed, shit human.

That cultured act, the civility that was real. Marquis was fair, he played by the rules. His rules, but he stuck to them without fail. It didn’t match her vision of what a criminal should be. It was jarring, creating a kind of dissonance. That dissonance was redoubled as she looked at the forlorn little girl. Layers upon layers, distilled in one expression. Criminal, civilized man, child.

Right, and how dare something not line up with your view of the world? How DARE?! Surely the problem is with the thing, and not you?! SURELY!

“Then you take care of her,” Brandish replied, even as she mentally prayed her sister would refuse. There was something about the idea of being around Marquis’ child, that uncanny resemblance, having those memories stirred even once in a while, even if it was just at family reunions… it made her feel uneasy.

*shakes head* jesus christ.

I wonder what Amy Pelham's relationship with Aunt Carol would have been like. A lot of 'why doesn't Aunt Carol like me?' I imagine. Which might have led to Sarah berating Carol into getting help sooner, because I can't imagine Sarah wouldn't have loved her daughter Amy as much as Eric and Crystal.

Though who knows. May just be grass is greener.

“You should. Amelia’s Vicky’s age, I think they would be close.”

*nervous, awkward, darkly ironic laughter*

“I’m sorry to bring it up,” Brandish said. “But it’s relevant. I decided I could have Vicky because I’d know her from day one. She’d grow inside me, I’d nurture her from childhood… she’d be safe.”

And you did a bang up job with her! Two thumbs up! /s

“That child deserves better than I can offer. I know I don’t have it in me to form any kind of bond with another child if there’s no blood relation.” Especially if she’s Marquis’. “She needs you. You’re her only option. I can’t, and Fleur and Lightstar aren’t old enough or in the right place in their lives for kids, and if she goes anywhere else, it’ll be disastrous.”

I can't believe I'm saying this, but: Sarah, Sarah, look at me.

Listen to Carol. For once in her life, she's actually right about something.

Look at me Sarah. Listen to your sister.

You could grow to love and trust that little girl, too.”

Truth is, she probably could have, but it would have required Carol getting over herself, and that, as it turns out, was borderline impossible.

I don't believe it would have been completely impossible - people always have a choice - and that's why, at the end of the day, I will never let sympathy for Carol rise beyond the barest of minimums, because she had a responsibility to be better, to get better, not just for Amy, but for Vicky, and she didn't, and so again, This Is A Carol Dallon Hate Blog.

Was the girl in shock? Carol couldn’t muster any sympathy. Amy was stopping her from getting to Victoria. Victoria, who she’d almost believed was dead.

See, this is just...

I mean, I'm glad Carol didn't kill Amy here, but Carol has not even an iota of concern for Amy, and yet, once she sees the state of Victoria and supposedly finds out that Amy raped Victoria, she suddenly has enough sympathy for Amy to not kill her?

I -

Seriously. Absolute bizzaro world shit here, Wildbow.

“So I thought I’d put her in a trance, and make it so she’d forget everything that happened. Everything that I did, and the things that the Slaughterhouse Nine said, and everything that I said to try to make them go away. Empty promises and-“

Okay, so like, you can Amy's lying here, but all we have to go on is what she says, you know? If Wildbow wanted us to get the takeway that Amy's lying here, he kind of needs to make that more clear.

Like, far from done, and I am kind of biased against WB at this point, to say the least, but it's just really fucking hard for me to see this girl acting like this if she just raped her sister.

I mean, really, man, if that really was your intent, you did a REALLY bad job of conveying it, and when you fail as a writer you don't fucking take that out on the readers.

(Right, sorry, I said I was ignoring Ward. Back to doing that)

She could never be my daughter because she’d never stopped being his.

She doesn't even remember him, you crazy psycho!

Amy kept talking, her voice strangely monotone after her earlier emotion, as if she were a recording. Maybe she was, after a fashion, all of the excuses and arguments she’d planned spilling from her mouth. “I wanted her to be happy. I could adjust. Tweak, expand, change things to serve more than one purpose. I had the extra material from the cocoon. When I was done, I started undoing everything, all the mental and physical changes. I got so tired, and so scared, so lonely, so I thought we’d take another break, before I was completely finished. I changed more things. More stuff I had to fix. And days passed. I-“

I'm having trouble seeing it. I really am.

I get that we're supposed to see 'break' as like... Amy raping her or something but -

But that -

no.

It might even have been something objectively beautiful, had it not been warped by desperation and loneliness and panic.

Everything about this scene just paints Amy as pathetic and pitiable. She really is a sopping wet poor little meow meow here.

I'm not saying a rapist can't also be pitiable - someone can be victim and victimizer, of course they can - but if you want the pitiable character to be seen as a rapist, or, you know, hated, for what they did -

Especially when it's from fucking Carol's POV, and Wildbow just got done explaining how little regard Carol actually has for Amy, how she has no sympathy for the girl and everything.

If there's any POV that should not be painting Amy as pitiable, but as the rapist we're supposed to believe she is, it's Carol's right?

Then I’d go and spend the rest of my life healing people. Sacrifice my life. I don’t know. As payment.”

Wildbow makes the most woobifiable character in the world, and then gets self-righteous when people woobify her.

News at 11.

And with everything laid bare, there was not a single resemblance to Marquis. There was no faint reminder of Brandish’s time in the dark cell, nor of her captor. If anything, Amy looked how Sarah had, as they’d stumbled from the house where they’d been kept, lost, helpless and scared. She looked like Carol had, all those years ago. The weapon dissipated, and Brandish’s arms dropped limp to her sides.

All this does is make Carol look narcissistic in the weirdest and worst way. She can only give a shit about someone who reminds her of... her?

But I mean, the whole reason she supposedly loved Vicky is because Vicky came from her, so she should have that take priority over...

I'm sorry. I'm just not seeing it. I'm not -

And Carol's actions here, even with the 'she looked like carol had' just...

No. This is weird. This is confusing. This is nonsensical. And I'm sure as shit not getting a 'Amy Raped Vicky' takeaway here.

Even allowing for Jack's comment about 'indulging' in 14.10. When Amy didn't agree or anything, and Jack would have no way to know what Amy did or didn't do when he wrote that letter we see in 14.11.

Like, if I squint and force myself to twist my brain into nots I can... pretend I can see it... but even then...

I mean, maybe Amy's lying, and characters lie and misrepresent and so on, true, but unless the text gives us a good reason to believe they are, which it hasn't yet...

I mean, it's the official version, the official narrative, that it's Rape. That's the WoG. And like...

Even if I didn't have my, admittedly largely unfounded, suspicions that Wildbow is just flat out lying about his original intent or meaning, I do believe that WoG should be an enhancement to and addition to the text, not a direct contradiction.

It really does seem like WB ended up falling into the trap of figuring he could just let his WoG paper over mistakes in his writing rather than getting it right the first time?

Carol stared as Amy shuffled forward. The cuffs weren’t necessary, really. A formality. Amy wasn’t about to run.

I mean, this is another thing I don't get. Amy haters harp on Amy 'running away from responsibility/consequences' but I mean... quietly going to the Birdcage, an unaccountable black box of a prison where (IIRC from what I've heard) 2/3s of the prisoners ended up dying by the time of the breakout is sort of the opposite of running away?

I mean, Amy should have fixed Vicky before going, this is true, but it seems clear she wasn't sure she could, and would Carol and Sarah have even let her?

As if she could convey everything she wanted to say in a single gesture, she folded her daughter into the tightest of hugs.

I -

I mean, I suppose stranger things have happened, but of all the times to actually suddenly start giving a shit about Amy, it's here and now?

Yeah, I can't reconcile this with Wildbow's official narrative of things.

“Victoria is gone. There’s nothing of her left but that mockery.

Yeah, okay, back to Carol just sucking 100%. That's more familiar ground.

The day I cease seeing her as his daughter and see how she could be mine, he takes her back, she thought.

Well, no one to blame but yourself, Carol.

Yeah, my official verdict is: if this is supposed to be the scene that convinces the reader Amy raped Victoria, then...

Yeah, I'm not seeing it. I'm not seeing anything that makes that implied even with a tortured reading. Even with the most hostile reading, I don't -

I don't see it. I really don't. I'm trying to have as open a mind as possible, I tried to look for it -

This isn't me questioning a victim in the 'was it really rape' way or whatever, I'm questioning whether the writing of a scene conveys the idea that one character committed the physical/sexual act of rape on another, and this scene does not. Maybe there's another scene later on (In Worm) that will convince me, but...

This one sure doesn't.

#This Is A Carol Dallon Hate Blog #Interlude 15.x #Kylia Reads Worm #Amy Dallon #Marquis #Sarah Pelham #I don't fucking no #I just...#I don't see it

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