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mystic-shadows42 · 3 years ago

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Legitimate Heir

A/N: The story doesn’t flow as nicely as I hoped.

Pairing: Ivar x reader

Warnings: None...maybe some angst

Summary: The reader has a surprise for Ivar leaving Freydis to become mad with jealousy.

You laid on your side, in bed, next to a sleeping Ivar. You couldn’t help but admire him and gaze at his beautiful face.

It was nights like this that you couldn’t help but think. After you and Ivar were done being tangled in the sheets, you would always feel guilty.

Guilty for sleeping with a married man. Yes, you are the other woman that you promised yourself you wouldn’t be. All of this wasn’t planned or done with deceit.

You never thought of Ivar as more than your king. Your first conversation with Ivar ended up not being the last. It was when you touched hands that you both gasped at the connection.

It was as if your encounter was meant to be. You remember there being a spark in Ivar’s eyes when you both looked from where you touched then to each other’s faces.

There was a lingering feeling of being scared. Ways of love were unknown to you. Especially with a king no less.

‘Nothing would come of it’ was what you used to tell yourself whenever you thought of Ivar.

A king had no time or use for a random woman living in Kattegat. He was far too busy plotting and planning his next move. He already had a beautiful wife that he seemed to adore to no end.

Whenever you’d have to enter the great halls you’d try to keep your head down though you always found yourself peering past others to get a glimpse of Ivar. He’d always be slouched in his seat.

He always seemed to be deep in thought and far away from everybody else who appeared to be talking to him.

You knew that you couldn’t avoid him forever. You were a cook. The finest that Kattegat had to offer, so to speak by others who’ve told you so.

You remember telling that thralls to take the food out. You were quite nervous even though Ivar never even got to know your name.

A loud sound resonated throughout the whole hall and everybody grew quiet. You peeked behind the door to the kitchen and watched Ivar looking down at his food angrily.

“I am sick and tired of having fish. Why must I keep seeing it on my table when I am the King of Kattegat! Do I not protect you all and share my wealth? The cooks could at least serve me something more fitting for a king to eat.”

At Ivar’s huffing and puffing, Freydis placed her hand on his clenched one. You couldn’t help but feel jealous at the subtle touch.

You wondered if her touch was anything compared to the one you and Ivar shared. Did she feel the sparks with him too?

“My love, we are coming into our winter months. It’ll be hard raising any cattle at all let alone having options of meats.”

He pulled his hand away from hers in an abrupt manner making her sit back in her seat with what seemed to be embarrassment in front of others.

“I don’t care. I’ve already made up my mind. I must speak with the kitchen staff immediately.”

He moved quickly with his crutches, letting his frustration fuel his energy to walk hastily. You backed away and warned the others that the king was making his way over.

Everyone was scrambling to tidy themselves before they grouped up for his appearance. As much as you wanted to hide in the back of the kitchen staff, you didn’t.

You were the main cook so you had to take responsibility and whatever repercussions he would give you. Ivar had come in through the doors with narrowed brows and clenched fists.

“Who’s in charge of preparing my food?”

“We all are, my king.” One of the staff members spoke with their head bowed.

Ivar was about to say something when you approached in front of the staff and in his view.

“If there is any issue with your food, my king then you may deal with me. I’m the one who wanted to serve you fish.”

The anger on his face quickly dissipated when he recognized you. Now there would be no more hiding. He knows of your status and could find you wherever if he even wanted to.

After that, Ivar never let a day go by without making an excuse to see you. He’d sneak in subtle touches and leave sweet little notes behind.

The rest all seemed to be a distant memory compared to now.

You traced Ivar’s jawline as he caressed your bare arms.

“I must tell you something Ivar.”

He briefly glanced at you and gestured with his hand to continue.

“Speak freely, my love.”

You rolled to your side in bed and whispered in his ear.

“I carry your child. Our child.”

You felt giddy on the inside, full of nerves but excited at the same time. When Ivar turned over in bed and looked at you with his eyes filled with hope, you knew nothing else mattered.

“Have the gods truly blessed us? I thought it was impossible for me.” He was lost in thought as he remembered what being crippled meant. No heirs to further his legacy.

Though now, he had hope. You placed your hand delicately on the side of his cheek so he could look at you.

“The gods have blessed us. Blessed our relationship. We must tell everyone there’s an heir to be welcomed.”

Ivar was beyond excited. He planted your entire face with kisses.

Later that night you dressed in one of your finest dresses that Ivar gifted you. You were among the people of Kattegat in the great hall waiting for Ivar to share the exciting news.

There was a permanent smile on your face just waiting in anticipation. You felt like you were glowing when Ivar appeared staring out at everyone.

“People of Kattegat, I bring exciting news!” His blue eyes seemed to light up the entire room. It was a look you wish he always had on. “I’m going to be a father!”

Cheers erupted and pleasantries were yelled out in the excitement. You would’ve covered your ears if it didn’t involve you.

“Come up here my love. Wherever you are.”

You made your way through the crowd with your eyes only trained on Ivar the whole time. Your heart was racing erratically, the cheers only fueling your pace to reach Ivar.

Though Freydis was the one who made it to the front before you did. Perhaps Ivar didn’t reveal your pregnancy to her yet. Ivar placed his hand on Freydis’ stomach.

“Your queen is pregnant!”

It felt as if all the air had been sucked out of you. It couldn’t be. Ivar had always spent his time with you. He gave her a kiss and you had to look away.

It was then that you were reminded of your place. Ivar was never yours. You were just a mistress and Freydis his wife.

After their display of affection, Ivar scanned the crowd until he found you. He saw your tear-streaked face and made a move to you but Freydis stopped him. She glanced over to you and spoke to him.

His eyes never left yours but once Freydis was done saying what she had to say, he shook his head at you.

There was no fight in you tonight. You were drained beyond belief at this sudden news. You wanted to be angry, but couldn’t. At the end of the day, Freydis was his.

You believed yourself to be naive when it came to him. He told you he hadn’t touched her. That he’d leave her for you. Now you knew it was all lies.

You fell back into the crowd letting everyone else surpass you. Something had happened between earlier and now. Ivar hadn’t faked his excitement. For now, you just wanted to be alone.

One of the thralls had her head bowed to you and opened the door that you shared with Ivar but you walked past it. This wasn’t your home, it never was.

What everyone didn’t know was that Freydis had found out about your pregnancy and panicked which caused her to lie because she knew you carried Ivar’s legitimate heir.

Tagged: @belovedcherry @lordsexmachine @lol-haha-joke @mariaenchanted @ethereallysimple @bababasti @ir-abelas-telanadas @soleil-dor @youbloodymadgenius

#Ivar #Ivar the boneless #Ivar x reader #Ivar imagine #Ivar Lothbrok #Ivar ragnarsson #Vikings #Ivar Vikings #Ivar fanfiction

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minor-solemnity · 3 years ago

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To be a Seer pt.4

Tag List: @jinxqsu @naps-and-lemons @riddles-wifey @mainlynonsense @cakesarecute @crumpets-are-better-with-jam

You learn that girl is Annabel Wheatley. A third-year Hufflepuff student who, according to the chattering of your peers, is kind, quiet, and loves Care of Magical Creatures more than anything. The rumours surrounding her petrification spread like wildfire throughout the school, people who’ve never spoken to you before start stopping you in the hallway to ask if it’s true that you had seen the person who did it? if her body had really been hanging from the ceiling? if Tom Riddle had really run all the way from the sixth floor in order to protect you from the monster lurking in the school? You tell everyone who asks the truth. You don’t know who did it, Annabel had been sitting at her desk, Tom Riddle had not run anywhere to protect you from anything.

No one seems to believe this last correction. And you’re not sure you can really blame them; in the weeks following the attack, Riddle has taken to escorting you to and from class, acting for all the world to see, as your protector. He politely asks anyone who goes near you to leave you alone - “Can’t you see that this is incredibly hard for her? Do I need to start handing out detentions?” - to anyone who doesn’t know better, Riddle is a worried boyfriend who can’t stand to see his beloved so upset. Even Lizzie and Lucas seem sceptical.

“You must admit, it’s awfully strange that he’s suddenly showing you so much interest,” Lizzie says one evening in the common room as you’re attempting to study for an upcoming Ancient Runes test. “At the very least, he’s hardly hiding that he quite clearly likes you.” You shoot her a withering glare and Lucas laughs from where he’s lounging on the settee.

“I have no idea why he’s following me around all the time,” You say loudly, and promptly blush when a few curious housemates turn to face you. Neither Lucas nor Lizzie look at all like they believe you and you sigh, staring glumly at the textbook in front of you. “I honestly think he might just be worried?” You try to inject as much honesty as you can into your voice, hoping that this new tact will convince them. “It was… It was really disturbing seeing her.” Your voice grows quiet and Lizzie’s expression morphs into one of concern and you think you can detect a little bit of guilt too. Should you feel bad for manipulating your friends like this? You probably should. But you don’t. “And he was the only one around, you know? I don’t think I reacted that well.” That at least is partly true, it’s just that your poor reaction had nothing to do with Annabel and everything to do with Riddle.

After a moment of uncomfortable silence, Lucas clears his throat and the subject is dropped.

***

Lizzie’s sick (or at least, she’s claiming to be) and so you’re on your own as you make your way to Divination. Riddle’s also absent and you’d not realised how used to his presence you’d become until he’s no longer walking with you to lessons. The solitary walk from breakfast to Divination gives you time to think about everything you know about the petrifications and a certain Tom Riddle. The most obvious, and the thing you are most concerned about, is that Riddle very clearly has something to do with the petrifications. Even without your visions, his attitude in the classroom whilst you’d waited for Dippet and Dumbledore to arrive would have been enough to make you suspicious, let alone the fact that he barely lets you out of his sight these days.

But regardless of any of that, you had Seen him. You’ve been Seeing him for weeks and it’s always the same: a boy splintering apart into seven pieces, distorting and mutating into something grotesque and unearthly. There’s no convincing you otherwise that Riddle and the boy in the smoke aren’t one and the same.

It’s your moral duty to tell someone, of course. You should be banging on Dippet’s door right this instance instead of making your way to Divination. You should be screaming it in the corridors. You should be doing a lot of things. And it’s not as though you’re happy that muggle-borns are being attacked. It’s just that… you’re stuck between doing what you know is right and following your own damned curiosity. And there is part of you that is unwilling to divulge to anyone what you know because that would entail telling them how you know. It’s selfish and dangerous and you hate yourself for it a little bit, but the thought of admitting what you’ve Seen is enough to make your chest constrict and your palms grow clammy.

When you enter the classroom you’re not even surprised to see that Riddle is already waiting for you at your usual table. He smiles at you congenially, and even stands up as you approach, pulling out your chair for you to sit. One thing that you’ve learnt from spending as much time with him as you have been is that Riddle’s manners are impeccable. It’s not half as endearing now that you know what hiding underneath his affable exterior. “Good morning,” He says pleasantly, “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to meet you after breakfast this morning, I had a few things I needed to take care of.” He leans forward as he says this, smiles conspiratorially at you like he’s letting you in on a secret. You have a horrible feeling that he’s testing you.

“That’s okay,” You say slowly, watching him carefully as you begin to unpack your things. “I’m sure that you must be busy this year, with all that’s happening. It would be selfish of me to keep you to myself all the time.” His smile widens and he nods.

“That’s very understanding of you. I must say, juggling schoolwork, prefect duties, and extracurriculars has been a lot more of a balancing act than I anticipated,” He pauses and the look he sends your way is entirely too knowing for your liking. “Still, I’m sure I don’t need to explain that to you.” You frown and anxiety begins to set in. The way Tom is talking to you makes you think that he knows about your visions, but that’s impossible. You’ve been so careful to make sure that no one knows. Not even Lizzie and Lucas. So how could he have found out? Unless he’s just baiting you? Trying to make you think he knows more than he does?

Not knowing what else to do, you simply smile and turn your attention to the front of the class where Professor Levintus begins the lesson with a small lecture on predeterminism and the role of destiny in Divination. Immediately, you perk up, scribbling notes on the lecture with a fervour that you’ve not felt since the petrifications started. You’ve always believed that the things you See are inevitable. That, once you’ve Seen them, your visions will come to pass no matter what you do. You’ve always believed this and so you’ve never once tried to stop them. Never once tried to change the future.

You think maybe you might want to see if you can.

“Sir,” You call, raising your hand. Levintus pauses in the middle of his sentence looking over at you, startled. “Forgive me for interrupting, but you mentioned that many consider the Sight to be absolute. Is that a fact or just a popular theory?” You try to keep your voice even; interested but academic. Out of the corner of your eye, Riddle sits up a little straighter, his attention focused entirely on you.

“Well, it’s certainly a popular theory. Many would argue that because all known instances of true foretelling have come to pass that it’s the only viable hypothesis we have at the moment.” Levintus explains. He looks like he’s about to move on with the lesson, but you still have questions.

“Surely, the keyword is ‘known’, though? There might be hundreds of foretellings that haven’t come to pass because the Seer acted to make sure they didn’t? Or prophecies that were never heard and therefore never acted out?” A hint of hysteria leaks into your voice and more students turn to look at you. Whilst it’s not exactly a secret that you take Divination more seriously than most, you’re not known for talking in class.

“That’s certainly a possibility, which is why I use the term theory. Is there a reason that you’re so interested?” Levintus smiles and cocks his head, “Do we have our very own Seer sitting among us, I wonder?” The rest of the class laughs, and, despite the way your heart does an uncomfortable flip in your chest, you force yourself to join in. The only person who isn’t laughing is Riddle who watches you with a small smile. You tell yourself that you don’t find it flattering.

***

You finish your rounds for the night and wave goodbye to the Hufflepuff prefect before heading straight to the Prefect’s bathroom. You’ve been given next weeks rota for patrols and aren’t surprised to see that you’ve been paired with Riddle. You haven’t been paired with him since the first week of fifth year, after which he’d only been partnered with other Slytherins but apparently times are changing.

You slip inside the bathroom and quickly set about filling the tub. You light incense and pour perfumed oils into the water. You smoke a cigarette and then light another one immediately after. These aren’t to help you See, but rather because you’ve been feeling on edge since Divination that morning. The next thing you do is pull out the small ornate dagger that you’d bought from Borgin and Burks the previous summer. You set it down carefully on the ledge of the bath as you sink into the warm water.

Driromancy is something you’ve studied but never attempted before. You’ve always found the idea faintly unsettling. Now though, you’re desperate for answers, and blood divination is said to be one of the most potent forms of divination. Blood magic is personal; it draws its power from the most essential parts of the user, and practitioners of driromancy are said to have highly intense and personal divinations. It is for exactly these reasons why you’re even considering it in the first place. Riddle has been haunting your dreams for months, he’s in the smoke you exhale, and that connects you to him somehow. In many ways, you know him better than he knows himself and you can’t shake the feeling that there has to be a reason for it. That there has to be a reason that of all the Seers in the world, it’s you that has been gifted the warning of his future.

You eye the dagger with a mix of anticipation and foreboding as the perfumed steam begins to work its magic and your mind calms and stills. You’re not sure how long you soak, allowing the water to soften your skin, but eventually, you feel the familiar tug at the edges of your mind, the gentle pull of the Other waiting for you to open your Inner Eye and See.

It doesn’t take much. A few drops on the tiles next to you, dark red against the white marble. You track the speed at which the droplets fall, the viscosity, and the patterns they land in. The slow, steady drip suggests someone determined, resourceful, and independently minded; the thin, watery viscosity indicates an uncertain future or a change of heart; the pattern that forms on the marble is a constellation - the hydra, representing a monster that cannot die.

You stare at the drops of blood for longer than you can tell, feeling strangely relieved by what they’ve told you. A future in flux is certainly better than a future set in stone. Especially, if the future is what you think it might be. It still leaves you with the question of how to change it. Riddle is, of course, the answer. Your futures are somehow tied together, however tangentially that might be, you just hope that his past actions aren’t indicative of how he might treat you should he find out.

The water has completely cooled, and you shiver as you clamber out of the bath and begin to dry yourself off. A quick vanishing charm and you’re ready to leave. You manage to take one step out of the corridor when you hear a soft hum coming from the shadows. Riddle steps into view and smiles down at you. In the dim candlelight of the corridor, he looks like a gothic prince. How did… How did he know you were here? Or was it just a coincidence?

Is anything a coincidence when it comes to you and Riddle?

He takes in your still-damp hair, your slightly wild eyes, the hitch in your breathing as he draws closer. “It’s a little late to be out, isn’t it? And hardly safe,” He says, and he’s close enough that you can see the way his eyelashes cast shadows along his cheeks. “I’d hate for something to happen to you when I’ve been trying so hard to prevent that.”

“Last I checked, prefects aren’t beholden to the same rules as other students,” You say and your voice is steady where your heart is not. He hums again and you’re struck by how pleasant the sound is, by the way his upper curls and his expression softens slightly. “I promise I’m being careful - though, I might ask the same of you, you know. Sneaking around the castle when you weren’t even on patrol tonight.” Without really meaning to, your tone takes on a slight teasing quality, gentle and sweet in the quiet hallway. You think you might be flirting with him which is… well, it’s an interesting development at any rate. Though perhaps, not one you should be surprised by; you’ve been spending enough time with Riddle to have grown somewhat comfortable in his presence (which is a somewhat unsettling realisation in and of itself) and you can’t deny he’s got a handsome face.

He laughs and the sound is beautiful. “I can assure you, no harm will come to me tonight.” No, you don’t expect it will. He offers you his arm, “It’s getting late though, and your common room is on the way to mine; allow me to escort you, seeing as I couldn’t this morning.” You know the exact moment that Riddle notices the shallow cut on your palm. He hums again, though this time, it isn’t from amusement but rather, you think with a small stab of anxiety, understanding. Like he’s putting the pieces together in his mind and is reaching a conclusion. Your hand hovers uncertainly in the air before you lay it gently against the crook of his elbow and he starts to walk you back.

Some distant part of you recognises that you’re in the middle of crossing a threshold, that you’re willingly walking into dangerous territory arm in arm with Riddle. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t a little bit curious about where you’ll end up.

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4) (part 5)

#tom riddle #tom marvolo riddle #tom riddle fanfic #tom riddle x oc #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x y/n #tom riddle x you #tom riddle fanfiction #tom riddle imagine #tom riddle fic #tom riddle oneshot #harry potter #minific #tom riddle imagines #tumblr fic

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philliamwrites · 4 years ago

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The Dawn Will Come [Chpt.1]

Fandom: Fire Emblem Three Houses

Pairing: Dimitri x Reader, Claude x Reader, Edelgard x Reader, Yuri x Reader, Edelgard x Byleth, lots of minor pairings

Tags: #gn reader, # platonic love byleth & reader, #reader is a tactical unit, #angst, #slow burn, #subplots, #unreliable narrator, #pining, #remporary amnesia, #reluctant herp, #canon divergence, #lost twin au, #many chapters, #original content

Words: 5.2k

Summary: Waking up in a forest without any knowledge of your past and who you are, you join the house leaders of the Officers Academy to search for a way to return your memories. Unfortunately, the church has different plans for you, and Fate places you in the centre of a cruel game with deadly stakes. It certainly doesn't help to fall in love with a house leader who is doomed to be your demise.

Notes: Chapter 2 There’s also a playlist for this story that you can find here and here.

Chapter 01: A High Destiny

A high destiny seemed to bear me on until I fell, never, never again to rise.

[Mary W. Shelley, Frankenstein]

It starts as it will end: in darkness.

Black dots dance in front of your eyes, merging into dark shadows clawing at your consciousness. A dull throb pounds in your temple, a steady rhythm that speaks of life but isn’t enough to allow awareness of your surroundings. Memory is a foreign word you can’t explain, and trying to think of the past 24 hours is an unachievable task. Every glimpse slips through your fingers like sand, and the only steady reference point is the solid ground pressing into your hands and back.

Slowly, you open your eyes. Treetops dance in the wind, towering above you like silent guardians of ancient times. The sun winks at you through thick branchesa and dancing green crowns, indicating it’s long past daybreak—but how do you know? Your memory is still a vast pool with no bottom and no means to dive into, and yet you think there’s a voice calling out to you, a heart-wrenching young, boyish voice—no, those are real voices ringing through the woods, appearing close to you. Alarmingly close.

“You’re awake,” a woman’s voice starts, moments later followed by a corresponding face. Round, lavender eyes surrounded by thick, white lashes peak from above at you, blinking curiously. It’s an expression far from friendly, but not exactly hostile either, and of all the things you can think of at this moment, it is how strikingly beautiful she is. But before you can say anything, another person joins, leaning too close in for comfort.

“You got us worried there, stranger,” a young man chimes in, squatting down beside you. His uniform isn’t exactly what you’d call fit for travelling through the woods. A heavy yellow cape falls over his shoulder, more fanciful display than practical use. But something in his posture seems very attentive, his broad shoulders taut like a drawn bowstring that won’t miss its target. “Weird place to take a nap, but hey, I’m not judging.”

“I wasn’t—” you start, immediately struck by a throbbing pain behind your right eye that reverberates through your skull and wretches a groan from you.

“Take it easy,” another voice joins, and panic spreads through you because of the amount of people surrounding you. Where the first man is a picture of warm colours—gold and sun kissed skin nourished on warm summer days, the other man observing you with a worried expression is clad in blue and black, blond hair falling into a pale face that carries the most striking blue eyes you’ve ever seen. Or so you think, because surely a colour like this, a blue stolen right out of the sky, wouldn’t be easily forgotten.

More movement and rustling of fabric, and a chill settles in your bones as you begin to fear that you’ve run into a bunch of ruffians who’ve only kept you alive for so long because they’re hoping for valuable information. More people emerge from the underbrush, carrying large sacks and backpacks with billycans dangling at their sides. Among them, a tall man with a beard, clad in robust mercenary’s gear, steps forward, concealing another young woman with sharp features and unusual greenish blue hair.

The sight of her strikes you like a bolt. It tastes like familiarity and the relief of being reunited with a long lost friend. But that is impossible. This is the first time you meet her.

Is it?

“You brats, I told you not to head off too far,” the older man bellows, crossing logs for arms in front of his broad chest. The first three take one big, polite step away from you, but don’t look apologetic at all.

“I’m sorry for our hastiness, Captain Jeralt,” the girl says, her eyes darting from you still sitting on the ground to him towering in his full height above them. “But it seems we would have otherwise not found this person.”

“This person who wasn’t really much conscious a couple of minutes ago,” the boy in yellow adds with a crooked grin. “How bad would it have been if someone else would have beaten us to it?”

“No need to make me look like the bad guy,” Captain Jeralt interrupts with a raised hand before the boy in blue can join his friends' justifications. Instead, he turns to you and regards you with a scrutinising look.

“What are you doing out here?” he demands. “Where’s your family? Friends?”

“Uhm, they’re—” you start, but nothing comes to your mind. Not only that. You don’t know why you’re out here, where you are exactly … and basically anything that should come to you about your own person remains shrouded in darkness. “I don’t know.”

Jeralt nods like that explains the very reason you’re still sitting on the ground like a misplaced cargo of cabbage. He kneads the nape of his neck, his face softening the tiniest bit. “And what’s your name?”

Unable to hold his piercing eyes, you drop your gaze to the ground, curling your trembling fingers into the fabric of your wool jacket. “I, uh… don’t know.”

If you thought you didn’t have their attention before, now their eyes are glued on your face in different levels of shock and disbelief.

“A case of amnesia?” the blond male says, not quite managing to achieve the right balance between blatant curiosity and polite worry. “Does this mean you have nowhere to go? Don’tknow where to go?”

“Goddess help you, Dimitri,” the other boy groans, running a hand through his short, brown hair. “Be any more tactless, will ya?”

“He isn’t wrong,” the girl says, observing you like you’re a fascinating new specimen in her collection of strange things. “You need a place to stay. And help until your memories return.”

If they return, you don’t dare to say because despite all things, hope still clings to you in the deepest corner of your heart, not allowing you to follow that train of thought and what it will mean for your future.

“Then by all means, if you want to join,” Jeralt says, waving a dismissive hand in your direction. “I don’t think you kids accept a No, so I’m going to save my breath.” He turns around with a grunt. “Get them your horse, Byleth. We’re late as it is, and another night of Alois talking my ears off will make me do something I’ll regret.”

The woman called Byleth keeps staring at you even as Jeralt walks past her and gives her shoulder a solid clap. You can’t say if she’s mute or just speechless because she’s filled with the same strange overflowing sensation like you: like a basin filling with water but unable to drain off. It appears you’re the same age, a couple of years older than the other three but still much younger than Jeralt, and yet the moment your eyes lock, it feels like there is something far older than any of you together passing between you. Something ancient.

“Well, first off, on your feet, little one.” Strong hands curl around your elbows, hoisting you up in one swift movement. A wave of dizziness hits you like an unavoidable spell, and the pounding from before settles back behind your right eye.

“Amazing, Claude,” the girl hisses, and quickly steps forward to steady you, pressing one hand against the small of your back where her strong fingers curl against the curve of your spine. Her other hand gently holds yours as she helps you regain your balance. “Excuse his manners. I promise not everyone from the Officers Academy behaves like a brute.”

“The what now?” you ask, hit by another wave of dizziness that might originate more from the girl’s soft lavender fragrance rather than the world spinning around you.

“The Officers Academy at Garreg Mach Monastery,” Dimitri provides this time. His posture is straight like an arrow, the stance of a soldier speaking to his officer. “That is where we attend as students and hence are going right now.”

“And you want me to come with you?” you ask like you have the option to refuse and go somewhere else. Strangely, the thought of joining a group of armed knights and mercenaries doesn’t fill you with fear or anxiety. You’re about to tread into foreign waters, and yet your heart is calm like a still compass guiding you in the right direction.

Claude clasps his hands behind his head like he’s got nothing to do with you feeling unwell at the moment. “Unless you have another place to be?”

Luckily, your head does come clear and breathing becomes a little easier. You nod to the girl and she holds you a second longer before she nods back and lets go. “I guess not,” you mumble, looking at each one of them. Byleth still hasn’t moved. By now you can’t really tell if she’s looking at you or through you. Surely, she would have said something by now if she thought you were familiar, right?

“Then it’s settled.” The girl nods solemnly, throwing her silky, white hair over her shoulder. “We welcome you in our company. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Edelgard von Hresvelg, heir to the Adrestian Empire.” Edelgard gives you a tight-lipped smile that quickly thins into a white line when the other two introduce themselves as Claude von Riegan, grandson of the Sovereign Duke of the Leicester Alliance and Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, future king to the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus. None of these names ring a bell to you, but you nod, pretending to know exactly what they're talking about.

“Okay, we need a name for you as well,” Claude proposes, tapping a slender finger against his chin. He has a strikingly sharp jaw that looks fit to cut stone. “Can’t have everyone call you stranger or little one now, can we?”

“No,” you say. “Especially since we’re about the same height.”

Claude laughs like you just told him the best joke he’s heard in years. “Soo, since we found you here … how about Glade? Or Woody?”

“How about no,” you say with furrowed eyebrows.

“Apologies.” Edeglard sighs and shakes her head, her expression a mix between disappointment and annoyance. “Claude isn’t much accustomed to the notion of consideration.”

Claude rolls his eyes. “Then you come up with something, princess. Or is it impossible because you can’t take out the stick up your—”

“Claude,” Dimitri half shrieks, his pale cheeks splotched with red dots. As he stumbles over his own words trying to apologise for Claude’s behaviour, Edelgard simply deadpans, “Bold words for someone in stabbing range.”

The fourth in this round of strange people considers you with a blank expression, her steady gaze like a solid touch on your skin. Before a greater argument can break free between the students, Byleth says a name with a surety like she’s never said anything else in her life, and hearing it, this barely whispered word immediately lost to the wind, you just know it’s your name.

“Yes, much better than what Claude proposed.” Dimitri nods, regaining his composure even though he’s still staring daggers at Claude. “It sounds more civilised as well.”

“You didn’t even suggest anything,” Claude remarks, but the huff of annoyance quickly dissipates from his voice when he jerks a thumb towards Byleth. “That’s Byleth, by the way. Funny story is, we met her just a couple of hours ago as well.”

“Fate must have brought us together here today,” Dimitri agrees with a solemn nod. “I swear on my honour as a noble knight from the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus that I will see you safe to the Monastery. Lady Rhea will surely be able to help you there.”

“Okay. Thank you,” you manage, unable to connect a face to this name in your head that feels like it’s about to burst any second anyway. The only course of action lies within those strangers who are so willingly offering help that you can’t stop worrying it’s a ruse. But without anything to offer them except your life, there’s little coming to your mind that they can anticipate in taking you with them. Tthe fact that Byleth knew your name doesn’t sit right with you as well. There’s something waiting to be grasped at the tips of your fingers, and yet you lack the strength to embrace it.

Following the little group of soldiers and students through the woods, you remain silent on the journey, only answering questions with approving or denying hums. How did you end up in this particular forest? According to Jeralt, you’re currently moving away from a village called Remire and towards the mountains to the northeast where the monastery lies tucked away between two mountains. Judging from the clothes you’re wearing, you’re a commoner, and when Edelgard pushed a slim dagger in your hand, nothing rung in intuitive knowledge about how to handle a weapon. Your mind remained silent, like an untouched chord.

There’s little you can say about the first impression those people left on you. There seems to be a unanimous dispute between the three students, hanging palpable in the air whenever an argument starts that’s pregnant with implied insults or passive-aggressive comments. From that you gather there’s tension between the governing fractions in Fódlan, something else you’ve learnt from listening to them squabbling.

Byleth and Jeralt acknowledge their bickering as if it was flies buzzing around their heads. They keep more to themselves and their mercenary comrades, indicating they’re really as much of strangers to the students as you. Their conversations are a lot quieter as well, their heads leaning close together for the illusion of privacy. More than once you notice Byleth sneaking glances in your direction, and every time you lock eyes, there’s something close to comprehension when she looks at you. The further you march through the woods, the less you try to meet her gaze. Reaching the monastery is the first step to regain who you are, or so you hope, because the opposite would mean you’ll continue stumbling through the darkness with no lead to your past or why you’re in this particular part of Fódlan, and you can only hope that this Rhea person really will be able to help you.

A sound from the underbrush cuts through your thoughts.

Thinking it might be an animal, you don’t let it bother you too much. No one else seems to have heard it, so maybe it was just your imagination. But your brain refuses to let it rest, and fails to push it away from your mind because something about the sound doesn’t seem to be right. The more you try to focus on it though, the blurrier it gets; the less you understand its origin.

Then, you hear a voice from within the woods. It sounds like a slurred whisper.

“What was that?” You stop in the middle of the road, looking around the thick trees. Claude barely manages to avoid walking into you. “What was what?”

“There’s something here.” Unable to explain further, you wave your hand around for emphasis. He looks at your hand, incomprehension written all over his face. “And that something is what exactly?” he asks.

“I don’t know.” You wave your hand wilder. “But I don’t have a good feeling venturing further.”

“You may be still tired,” Edelgard offers, not hiding her irritation that the journey stopped. “It won’t be long until we reach Garreg Mach. You can rest however long you need inside the monastery’s infirmary.”

“I’m not tired,” you hiss, hand falling back to your side where it clenches into a fist. “I just really don’t think we should go further for now.”

“And why is that?” Dimitri inquirers. He raises a hand and the soldiers following them come to a halt, a murmur of unrest breathing through their lines, and it’s just enough that you question if it would be better to play if off and admit your mind is playing tricks on you due to exhaustion.

But whenever you blink, a red veil falls over your right eye, blurring your surroundings. Little red dots move slowly in the distance through the forest. If you didn’t know better, you’d say it’s some sort of life form far away, slowly advancing on your position. “Because someone is coming,” you finally manage, scratching the thin skin below your irritated eye that’s started twitching slightly. “Someone is coming towards us from southwest. And I can’t say if they’re friendly or not.”

Three pairs of eyes consider you like you’ve grown a second head. Only Byleth stares into the woods like she might find the strangers you’re talking about waiting behind the trees if she just looks hard enough.

“Little one, are you sure this isn’t just an aftereffect from you hitting your head?” Claude offers, squinting into the woods. You’re pretty sure he’s staring directly at the moving dots but for whatever reason can’t see them.

“Unless amnesia is suddenly another term for going crazy, I don’t think so,” you snap, unable to hold back the irritation raising to the surface.

A whistle echoes through the tree crowns. Byleth snaps her head in the direction of the sound, growing all tense. She raises her hand into a tight fist, and all movement stills behind you. When you turn around, you see the mercenaries waiting in the underbrush like a flock of crows ready to swipe down on their prey. Jeralt breaks away from them and approaches Byleth, a frown cutting a deep wrinkle into his forehead.

“Bandits,” he says, and quickly signs a hand gesture to the nearest bowman. He nods and disappears between trees. “Another mile away. If we stay on this road, we’ll walk right into them.”

“Seven hundred feet, actually,” you blurt. Jeralt looks at you like you’re a cockroach under his boot. Another whistle cuts through the woods, one long followed quickly by two short. Byleth exhales audibly, and only now you notice she’s moved to stand beside you. “Seven hundred feet,” she mutters, her eyes fixed on you.

Jeralt tenses. “How do you know, kid?”

“I don’t know,” you mumble towards your boots. “I just see.”

There’s an uncomfortable silence falling around you, and you’re too afraid to look up and read distrust in their eyes.

“Does it matter?” Claude finally breaks the silence, sliding his bow from his shoulder. “They won’t be a problem with the knights and mercenaries on our side.” He jerks his chin towards Byleth, already plugging an arrow from his quiver. “You should really see her fight.”

“Wait,” you say, reflexively reaching for the hem of his cape. “Don’t engage them yet.”

Claude stops, one eyebrow arched up in a curve. “Beg your pardon?”

“They come from the woods. Which means this is their hunting ground and they have the advantage. They have dozens of archers. I think they’re waiting until you reach a glade. And then open fire.”

“Which means we’ll end up as skewers.” Claude scratches his chin and twirls the arrow between his slender fingers. “I can think of better ways to shuffle off this mortal coil.”

Dimitri perks up. “You’ve read the Tale of Hamelot I gave you?”

“I’ll give it a six out of ten. His soliloquies were awful.”

“Boys.” Edelgard snaps her fingers impatiently as Dimitri opens his mouth to protest. “Not the time.” She takes your wrist and pulls it away from Claude’s cape, her hard gaze like a sharp knife. “Are we simply ignoring the fact that we have someone in our midst knowing the enemies’ movement and deployment?” she cuts in harshly. “Is this a plan to lure us into an ambush?”

“You think someone would give away their comrades’ position just like that?” Claude eyes her wearily. “Don’t be so suspicious of everyone.”

She glares at him. “I rather be suspicious than dead.”

Which is a valid point and a trait you willingly admit to share with her, but that doesn’t really solve the problem at hand. Luckily, Dimitri seems to think the same. He doesn’t unfasten the spear on his back yet, but his fingers dance swiftly over the handle, immediately resting on where he can easily pull it from the straps if needed to strike down an enemy. “Fact is enemies are approaching,” he concludes, looking at his fellow students in search for a consensual ceasefire. “We must put an end to them before they target defenceless travellers on their way out of the forest.”

“Spoken like a true crowd-pleaser,” Claude says, either unable or not caring to hide the mock in his voice. “We can resolve our new friend’s condition after we take down the enemy.”

“I don’t agree with this,” Edelgard declares, but nonetheless unclasps the double-bit axe from her back and swings it on her shoulder like it weighs nothing. “But I accept that this is a more pressing issue.” The easiness in the movement robs your lungs of air, and even though there are more important matters to focus on, you wonder how her muscles play under her black uniform swinging around a thing like that. Your admiration comes to a quick end when Jeralt and Byleth close the circle. Her hand rests on the hilt of a short blade as she scans the underbrush, her body rigid with battle anticipation.

“Let them come to us,” Jeralt announces. “Let them think they have the advantage.”

“Your knigths over there move slow through the woods,” you say, gesturing at the waiting man clad in heavy armour and armed with shields. “But their amour can resist some stray arrows coming down on us. It’s the rearguard that will take them by surprise from another direction and—”

“And charge their flank or rear to finish them off,” Jeralt ends with a crude nod. “Indirect approach. I thought of that as well.”

Your mouth goes dry. The idea plopped seemingly out of nowhere in your mind, but yes, now that you think about it, that is the indirect approach tactic, first recorded after the Battle of Nicaea in … Faerghus? Or was it Adrestia? The picture in your mind is still blurry, but now you can make out definite lines of objects: Books with drawn pictures of pointing arrows and coloured lines, each lettered with a name or an approach in a neat handwriting that isn’t yours. The picture triggers another wave of dizziness, disappearing as fast as it appeared.

“They’re going to faint in three, two, one…” Claude’s voice rips you back to the present. You glare at him and raise a fist to show how close to fainting you really are. He only laughs at the tiny fist in front of his face.

“Enough brats, get into position,” Jeralt bellows, and the students scatter with a bouncing step in all their strides as they take the lead of a small unit.

You’re about to retreat to the furthest point away from battle when Jeralt blocks the way. “Not you. You’re going with Byleth.”

“I’m what?”

“Byleth,” Jeralt nods to the young woman ahead of you, “will be the commanding unit and you’ll help her.”

The world tilts a little as panic takes hold of you. “I can’t. I don’t know how to fight.”

“You seem to know enough to plan a counterattack.”

“That doesn’t mean anything.” Your voice sounds horribly piercing even to your own ears. “It was just a lucky guess.”

“I don’t know what’s the deal with you,” Jeralt says with a finality to his voice that doesn’t allow objection, and this time you clearly see the head of a mercenary guild, one that gives commands with every breath. “But that wasn’t a lucky guess. You see what it needs to win a battle. So you guide them.”

He turns around sharply and leaves, not bothering to check if you plan to abandon them. It’s madness. You should abandon these people, should flee from the fight that will demand blood and death. One, two, three … six steps and you’re standing beside Byleth, taking deep breaths. It doesn’t help. She eyes you sideways with a raised brow, and you flinch at the metallic rasping sound as she draws her sword.

“I shouldn’t be here,” you mumble, staring into the woods. The red dots are approaching faster, forming into more recognisable features of humans. “I’m going to die. Without knowing who I am or why I’m here. This is the worst day of my life. I think. I don’t know. It has to be.”

Byleth hums beside you. You can’t tell if it’s a thoughtful or an affirmative hum. “This might sound crazy, but I do trust you.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t,” you say, struck by a sudden fear that this all is a fever dream and you're about to lead them into ruin. It’s enough that you don’t even notice this is the first time you two are talking to each other since your meeting.

Byleth studies you out of the corner of her eyes, then says, “A very persistent voice inside me tells me I shouldn’t.”

“That’s your survival instinct. Listen to it.”

“Yeah,” Byleth says, and there’s something like a faint smile tugging at the corners of her lips. You blink and it's gone. “I might do that.”

You don’t really understand what’s there to smile about, but the moment quickly disappears as silence settles, only occasionally disturbed by a bird sitting in the trees above you.

“So what exactly do you see?” Byleth whispers after a moment, barely shifting in her crouching position. You on the other hand really want to move your legs before they go numb.

“I don’t know why you guys even believe me,” you mumble, and pinch the bridge of your nose with your fingers, trying to stave off another rush of dizziness. “And I don’t understand it myself. It’s the opponent, in a way. I see their strengths and weaknesses, their amour and weapons. It’s like … it’s like the flow of battle is displayed in front of me.”

Byleth hesitates a moment, then nods like everything is pretty much self-explanatory. You wonder if to her it really does sound plausible, as she is someone who is practically born in battle, a daughter to a mercenary who breathes battle and fighting. Before you can explain anything further, she ducks more into the bushes and silences you with a sharp hush, her body tensed. The first bandits approach the glade, their bows and arrows ready to strike as the Academy’s knights engage them. Swords and axes clash against each other, battle cries ring through the woods. Byleth gestures you to follow her, and out of the corner of your eyes you see the students do the same, moving around the bandits. From the distance, you notice Claude gesturing wildly. It’s a mix between pointing at himself and then at the space a couple of feet away from his unit, and though you’re unable to fully comprehend it, you shake your head. He gives a thumbs up and slows down until he halts inside the thick cover of ferns.

Just when you reach the right angle, Byleth looks back at you, waiting for your approval, and after briefly hesitating, you signal with a short nod to attack. Edelgard is the first to emerge from the underbrush. She has a dancer’s grace and a seemingly unerring instinct for what her opponent will do next. Her axe cuts through the first bandits who are too surprised to regroup in time. Dimitri and Claude are quickly to follow her. The crown prince of Faerghus wields his weapon of choice like he’s never done anything else in his entire life. The spear is the instrument to a deadly song they know by heart, and whoever stands in the way of their melody is cut down swiftly. Claude doesn’t disappoint with his steady aim either, his eyes sharper than an eagle’s. He nocks his bow, draws and impales a bandit that’s been running toward a mercenary with a crooked nose and eye patch. The mercenary gives him an offhand salute and goes back to fighting a thug twice his size.

And then there’s Byleth. At first you don’t see her as the battle’s chaos swallows her and she disappears between moving bodies. But once your eyes catch up to her again, it’s hard to look away. Byleth moves through the enemies’ lines like an avenging angel on a mission. Her sword arm causes havoc as it conducts the tact of death’s complicated choreography and one by one the bandits fall to her deadly dance. Strangely, what describes it the best, you think, is divine.

The battle is almost over. The last bandits fall or flee back into the woods as they abandon their comrades who lay down their weapons and yield. A miserable sound of relief escapes you when you see the end nearing with little casualties on your side, thanking whoever watches over you and guides your weapons in victory.

That is until you see something, and at first you aren’t really sure you see it. Veiled by a red haze, a gruesome scene unfolds before you: As Byleth is focused on helping a soldier back up on his feet, a bandit strikes her from behind, wedging a dagger through her spine and into her heart. When you blink, the scene is gone and with it the red veil covering your surroundings.

You don’t think twice. Jumping out of your hiding spot, you quickly recognise what will be Byleth’s murderer. Only he never gets the chance to approach her. With everything you’ve got, you charge into him and send him flying on the ground, you on top of him. The bandit groans, groggily turning on his back to see what struck him, and before you can start to fear for your own dear life, Byleth is beside you and rams her sword into his throat, silencing him forever.

She looks down at you and you feel like she knows what just happened. Why you jumped in. It’s in those keen, piercing eyes that speak of a unimaginable wisdom. She reaches a hand out to help you up, and when you stand, the last bandits have been secured and the chaos finally settles. That is when the throbbing pain in your right eye doubles you ever, the pain akin to a pinprick of ice hammering into your skull. The pain makes you sick as stars explode behind your closed eyes, and the more they dance in feverish circles, the harder you press your hands against your eyelids, trying to smother the pain by pressure. It doesn’t work.

Unable to breathe properly, your stumble, and when you move your hands, your fingers smear something warm and wet across your cheeks.

Someone takes in a sharp breath. “Your eye,” Byleth breathes, a hand raised but remaining hanging in the air like she’s unsure if it’s okay to touch you. In the background you hear someone calling out you’re bleeding, and it takes a few seconds to understand where you’re bleeding from. Your right eye cries blood when the pain finally knocks you out, darkness falling onto everything.

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selfproducingfanfictionauthor · 4 years ago

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Lessons to Build - ii: you can’t outrun what is in you

Summary: Two years ago, you break off your 5-year long engagement with Min Yoongi of the Min family and ran off to New York. However, for people like you, running away has never been a lasting solution.

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader / Taehyung x reader

Warnings: None for this chapter. Y/N comes home, we meet Yoongi but not MEET-MEET. Might make you root for Taehyung. Notes: Short chapters for quicker updates is my jam. This took a while because i wasn’t sure how I wanted to present Yoongi yet. But here it is. He may be “kind” but there are other things at play that affected (and will affect) his decisions. Same with Y/N. Also Tumblr won’t let me tag some users. :(( I hope you guys find this update! And thank you for the people finding this fic! Word Count: 1.6k Prologue Lesson I

Home.

Home shouldn’t be something you have to run away from. And yet, the moment you booked your flight, fingers tapping away on your phone - your passport details, credit card, seat number - an undeniable weight has began to made its home on your shoulders. As encompassing as a blanket but as imprisoning as heavy sand.

“What do you mean you’re flying to Seoul? Now??”

Isn’t it funny how things change in less than 24 hours? In a blink of an eye?

Taehyung’s voice is shrill in the background as you toss clothes upon clothes over your shoulder, hopping they’d get at least near the perimeter of your open suitcase.

Around you is your life in disarray. At the back of your mind, you find it slightly disturbing how easily it could fit in several boxes. No roots.

“Yes—“

“Why?”

You pause from grabbing your toiletries. There are things to do here in LA - there’s the campaign, the meetings with investors, your contracts, your would-be dog - your life.

Your mother told you that your father doesn’t want you to make the flight. That he’s fine, and it’s just exhaustion but the waver in your mother’s voice had your heart dropping straight to your stomach. And so despite her half-hearted protests, you’ve turned over your works over email and sent the rest for your assistants to manage.

Seoul may as well be just another place in the map. No, you’re not coming for Seoul, you’re coming for family.

You grab your phone off your bed side table and press it against your ear. “My dad had a heart attack.”

On the other line, you can feel Taehyung consider his words. “I’m coming with you.”

Your hands pause from folding your clothes and you look at your phone and as if seeing your questioning gaze, Taehyung plows on. “Yeontan and I are coming with you.” “Why?”

There are two ways for Taehyung to answer. One easy way is to tell you the truth. That he knows you need a friend, a tether to your life here, someone who will solidify what you’ve built. Someone, something tangible, someone to prove to you that your life here is as real as the life you left.

Going back always runs the risk of regressing, falling back to old patterns, he learned.

After all, he knows the feeling of being forced back to square one.

Or, he could tell you this, “My brother’s been bugging me to visit. And I hate flying alone.”

You don’t mention that he’s flown across the globe more than you could count - even flew to France once because he wanted authentic mille-feuilles - and just nod. “Okay, I’ll send you the flight details.”

“Okay, Lady, I’ll be there.”

The collapse of the CEO of the biggest chain of hotels and one of the upcoming land developers in an annual gala event can never be kept a secret.

You’ve seen it happen only once before, to Mr. Min. As a young girl, you remember how the media feasted around him like flies, and how shareholders of his company stalked around like wolves under sheep’s clothing.

It was as if everyone was waiting with a baited breath for the old man to die. A final shift of power from the old ways to the new. It was sensational, romanticized by the public - not sparing a thought or two to the families except when they needed something.

That was years ago, and it’s an unfortunate fact that hasn’t changed a bit.

“Well, can’t say I didn’t expect this - at least we look good.” Taehyung mutters, decidedly ignoring the occasional flash of camera in his periphery. They were still trying to be subtle, maybe not sure of the “scoop”? Scared of your supposed hidden bodyguards? Who knows?

“You always look good, Tae.” You whisper lightheartedly, forcing calmness in your words.

Around you, people continue to buzz around, grabbing their suitcases from the conveyor, talking on the phone, glancing at their watches. But they too have noticed, and glances towards your way multiply as the minutes pass by.

Taehyung hums in agreement, looking as if he hadn’t just flown across the world. “Yes, it requires effort, but don’t go telling them that.”

A loud shutter sound draws you away from your conversation and you boldly meet the lenses of a masked photographer eye-to-eye. Every bit of the Oh heiress they’ve built up in their mind.

Last time you checked, you were the high society’s prodigal princess. Ran away from home, off to play Cinderella in the United States. Keeping busy with shallow causes, burning through your daddy’s money.

You wonder how they come up with their headlines. You’ve long since given up in appealing towards their journalist’s ethics, but with how creative they come up with stories, you’re a bit disappointed with the headline you last read. The least they could do was make it more fun - a hidden lover? Pregnant? A twist, or something.

You scoff. Although you may have been away for two years, you still are your parents’ daughter. This is child’s play.

Dressed in a black luxury pantsuit, heels lifting you up from the ground and make-up on point, you provide no weak points. Eyes half-lidded you stare straight to the cameras who’ve come out of their hiding, propriety be damned and all.

Oh Y/N is back.

(And if it feels like shrugging on a second skin, you pay it no mind)

“Tae… Tae… Tae!”

Taehyung jostles awake beside you, the hand you were shaking him with falls on your lap. “Wha— What?”

Yeontan’s yip echoes his owner’s confusion. The sound sounding as exhausted as he probably is. Flying has and will probably always be stressful for pets, but Taehyung refused to have someone dog sit Yeontan for this trip saying that he needs to meet his cousins, RJ or something.

Your eyes soften at your friend’s sleepy eyes. Outside the sky is bright, but you too can feel the time difference and jet lag creeping up.

“Sleep this off at the hotel, Tae. I’ll have the driver drop you off.” You’re already reaching out to press the button for the partition when Taehyung shakes his head.

“‘M not sleepy.”

“You’re dead on your feet, Tae.” Fondness laced in your words, you watch Taehyung straighten in his seat beside you and card his fingers through his hair, making the mess look like a ~coordinated~ one.

“I’m not letting you go there alone.”

“I’m going to the hospital, Tae, not war.” You chuckle, rolling your eyes. Taehyung spies the way you tuck your hands around yourself, almost curling inwards, almost shaking.

No.

“Could’ve fooled me, you’re dressed to kill.”

You look over expecting a teasing grin on his face but you falter, frozen, at the sight of his eyes. Dark chocolate eyes pin you to your spot, and heat blooms on your cheeks. Suddenly, you feel like your suit is too tight and even in its dark shade - too sheer.

Almost two years of friendship has not rendered you immune to Kim Taehyung.

Like the passing scenery, the moment is gone as quick as it came. Taehyung smiles and lifts Yeontan to his shoulder.

“He’s going to be there, isn’t he?”

There’s no question as to who he’s referring to. “He might be, my mom said he almost hasn’t left my dad’s side.”

Taehyung scoffs, “Like a vulture.”

You want to defend Yoongi but despite leaving the country because of him, you did keep updated. Partly because it’s ingrained to you to stay on top of news relating to your family business and its periphery but also… well, you don’t know what you hoped for.

In the span of less than two years, Min Yoongi dragged their struggling company and made it great again. Competitors lost out, assets were seized left and right, absorbed, repurposed in the gaping maw of a resurging giant.

He’s ruthless.

But you can be too.

Oh Jiyoung is not a young man anymore.

He doesn’t think he’s been young since his mother abandoned him and his father when he was ten. He wasn’t young when he left school at fifteen, or when he went back when he was eighteen.

He wasn’t young when he bussed tables, or worked in shucking oysters Yeosodo with swollen scarred hands. He wasn’t even young when he first met his wife, fell in love and learned what it was like to be loved back.

So, no, he isn’t surprised when he had a heart attack. A little off-put, and a bit terrified but not surprised. He’s lived more decades than he actually expected to already.

Looking down at his hands, he thinks that if he’d kicked the bucket right then and there the only true regret he’ll have is one that involves the young man across him.

Oh Jiyoung is old, but he hasn’t forgotten the mannerisms of a young man. His wife still makes him feel like one after all this years. So of course, he’s noticed the young man across him fiddle with his rings, his feet tapping to a rhythm only he knows.

“Don’t tell me you’re nervous.”

Yoongi looks up from his seat to the teasing face of his would’ve been father-in-law. His thumb pauses from rubbing against the ring in his forefinger, he doesn’t answer. He feels the stare of your father bore down on him and he almost shifts like a boy caught in a lie.

Your flight has landed just less than two hours ago, he doubts you’ll give yourself time to rest first before heading to the hospital. Which means, any time now, those doors will open and you’ll be here.

How odd.

As if summoned, the doors open and —

— there you are.

Yoongi’s eyes don’t stay on you too long, not with a tall man hovering behind you, dark eyes trained on him. Your ease at this man’s close proximity sets fire at the back of his neck, and even if he wanted to say hello, this, instead comes out.

“The rumors are true then, huh?”

Tag List: @moonlitmyg @shadowstark @kookiebunnii @loveyoongles @swegstuffsuckers @anpanman-sonyeondan @veronawrites @ariadne-06 @springjade @neverthefirstchoice @creatorspalace End Notes: Hearts are appreciated but comments are gold. Let me know what you think and if you want to be included in a tag list!

#chaebol min yoongi #CHAEBOL TAEHYUNG #chaebol reader #CEO min yoongi #Future CEO reader #model taehyung #foiled arranged marriage #arrianged marriage au #marriage of convenience AU #Yoongi x reader #min yoongi #taehyung x reader #bts x reader #bts fanfiction #bts angst #yoongi angst #lessons to build #bangtanarmynet

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siancore · 5 years ago

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Go to Your Room

Summary: The one in which people think Bucky has a problem with his roommate Sam’s dates because they’re guys...

A/N: Based on a prompt that this silly tagging feature has lost about Sambucky roommates AU

Word Count: 2,737

Living with Steve and their roommate was a little awkward for Bucky. He felt like a third wheel most of the time. Sure, he and Steve had grown up together, but they weren’t the same kids from Brooklyn that they had been. Bucky was a returned serviceperson and was not the most outgoing guy anymore. Steve, it turned out, was more outgoing in adulthood; he was a social butterfly of sorts, and so was his new best friend, Sam Wilson.

They were a lot alike, Bucky noticed. Both the center of attention. Each had a bunch of other friends and went on dates regularly. Steve did not usually bring girls home, but when he did, he made sure to go to his bedroom where he was afforded privacy. Sam, however, was quite content to be laid up on the sofa, or eating in the kitchen, or sharing the shower with his dates. And it was always some ridiculously good-looking dumbass who was younger than Sam was, and who stared at Sam like the sun rose and set on him.

And Bucky wasn’t a prude or a bigot, no way, but for some reason seeing Sam making out on the sofa on a Saturday afternoon annoyed him to no end.

“You got a room, Wilson,” he would say in passing, while giving his best stern expression.

“So do you, Barnes, so why don’t you go to it,” Sam would reply, and Bucky would roll his eyes and walk off in a huff.

It wasn’t that Bucky didn’t like Sam. He really, truly did. Sam was a great guy. Real sweet and kind and generous. Would give you the shirt off his back. Was so smart and witty. And he was funny, too. Had the best laugh and the biggest, brightest smile. He always went out of his way to make people feel safe and welcome. It was no wonder he was so popular and had guys lining up around the corner to date him.

He and Bucky got on really well. Their playful banter was part of how they related to one another. They could each dish it out and take it, and Bucky was never genuinely annoyed with Sam because of it. Yet, increasingly, he was finding himself growing irritated the more Sam brought dates home. It was always some dumbass who was all hands, muscle, and little substance. Some guy who was always trying to kiss and touch Sam.

Bucky couldn’t blame them, though; Sam was an attractive man. He had the most beautiful brown eyes Bucky had ever seen, framed by lashes so long that they touched his incredible cheeks when he laughed wholeheartedly. His lips looked so soft and inviting, and even the gap in his teeth was beyond adorable. So, yes; Bucky understood the appeal. He just didn’t like to be around when these other men were falling over themselves to get to Sam. It was fuckin’ annoying.

The new guy Sam was seeing was almost too good-looking, and he was all over Sam all the fucking time. One day, upon returning home from the gym, Bucky walked into the living room to find Steve and Sam watching a football game. Steve was on the armchair yelling at the screen, and Sam was on the sofa sprawled out like a fashion model doing a photoshoot: Looking bored and beautiful. Bucky dropped his bag to the floor, and sat next to Sam. He felt the other man’s deep brown eyes on him immediately.

“You’re bulkin’ up there, Barnes,” Sam commented, dragging his gaze over Bucky’s form. “Lookin’ good, dude.”

For some reason, Bucky felt a blush creep up his neck and settle on his face.

“Thanks, man,” Bucky replied as he gave Sam a coy smile, which Sam returned. They sat staring at one another for a beat longer than was necessary.

Just then, the sound of another voice drew them from their reverie as Erik Stevens asked, “What’d I miss?”

“Nothin’, man,” said Steve, annoyed that their team was behind on the scoreboard. “I’m about ready to turn the TV off and toss it out the window.”

“Dramatic ass,” said Erik.

“He really is,” Sam added.

Bucky sat back and said nothing as the aggravation washed over him.

“Want another beer, babe?” Erik asked Sam as he placed his hands to Sam’s shoulders and rubbed them. The small gesture really got on Bucky’s nerves.

Sam turned to him, as if he could feel the irritation radiating from him and said, “Yeah, thanks. You want one, too, Buck?”

“Nah, I’m gonna hit the shower,” said Bucky as he stood and walked away, not offering a greeting to Sam’s beau as he walked by.

“What’s his deal?” asked Erik as he flopped down beside Sam and handed him the beer bottle. “Every time I come over, it’s like dude is in a bad mood.”

“He’s just shy, right Steve?” Sam said in Bucky’s defence.

“Yeah, yeah,” said Steve, not paying too much attention as he was too engrossed in the football game.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he had a problem with the two of us,” said Erik.

“Bucky’s not a racist,” said Sam.

“Not that,” Erik replied. “I meant with us bein’ two dudes.”

“No way,” said Sam, shaking his head. “He’s not a homophobe. He’s a great guy. You just gotta get to know him.”

“I’m tryin’,” Erik proffered. “But whenever I’m here, it’s like he doesn’t want me here.”

“You’re wrong, Erik,” said Sam. “He’s a good guy. You’ll see.”

xXxXx

Later that night, after Erik had gone home and Steve had gone to bed, Sam found Bucky sitting up watching an old movie in the dimly lit living rom. He often did that when he was unable to sleep; plus, it was actually nice to get time to enjoy their living room without Steve yelling at the television and some guy all over Sam.

Sam eyed Bucky a moment, before he sat down beside him and reached over to take some popcorn from his bowl; Bucky held the bowl out so that Sam could take as much as he wanted.

“What’re you watchin’?” asked Sam.

“I dunno,” said Bucky. “Some old romance shit. Boy meets girl, boy loses girl because boy is a dumbass, boy tries to win girl back. Sappy shit. You’d like it.”

Sam nudged Bucky’s shoulder with his before saying, “True, but I’d much rather watch boy meets boy and they live happily ever after.”

Bucky let out a discreet sigh and nodded his head. Sam must have been smitten with Erik. It’s all he ever wanted to talk about even when he wasn’t talking about him. It was exasperating. Bucky didn’t like it.

Sam noticed the lull in their short-lived conversation, and then he began to wonder if Erik wasn’t wrong about his assumptions regarding Bucky.

“Can I ask you somethin’?”

“Sure.”

“What d’ya think about Erik?”

Bucky turned to look at him and said, “I don’t think about him.”

“Okay, but that’s not what I asked,” said Sam. “I’m askin’ your opinion of him. I’ve been seein’ him for almost a month now, and I feel like the two of you haven’t really hung out together or clicked.”

“I don’t need to click with him, Wilson,” Bucky replied flatly. “You’re the one screwin’ him, not me.”

Sam was a little taken aback by his friend’s snappy retort.

“Jesus, Barnes, what the hell is your problem?” asked Sam.

“I don’t have a problem.”

“You sure about that?” Sam accused.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Let’s see: Every damn time Erik is here, you either run off to your room, or ignore him, or be downright rude to him,” said Sam. “So what’s your problem?”

“Do the two of you really need to be here with your hands all over one another like horny fuckin’ teenagers?” asked Bucky, raising his voice a little. “This is a common area, Sam. Can’t you take that shit to the bedroom?”

“That shit?” asked Sam, raising his voice, too. “You mean the gay shit?”

“I mean the dry-humping-on-the-couch-shit,” Bucky replied. “The shit with the dumbass twenty-somethings who’ve always got their hands in your pants. That shit. No one wants to see that.”

“Tell me, if Erik was a woman, would you even care so much?”

“What?”

“If Erik was Erika and was a chick, would this even be an issue right now?”

“You think I’m annoyed with it because you’re gay?”

“What the hell am I supposed to think, uh? You think I didn’t notice that you’re always in a shitty mood when I bring guys home? But when Steve brings girls home, you’re here drinkin’ coffee with them and bein’ extra nice and shit. When it’s one of Steve’s little girlfriends, you remember that you’re actually a charming guy; you remember that you’ve got manners and social skills. Why is that?”

“I’m not gonna sit here and be interrogated,” said Bucky as he placed the popcorn down on the coffee table and tried to walk away.

Sam stood quickly and took hold of Bucky’s arm, stopping him in his tracks.

“Answer me, damn it,” said Sam, as he stared into Bucky’s eyes. “Why don’t you care when Steve has dates over, but you’re in a foul ass mood when I do?”

“Whatever, man.”

“No, tell me why. Why are you always actin’ like someone pissed in your cereal when I have guys here, but you don’t give a good goddamn who Steve has over?”

“Because I don’t care who Steve brings back here,” said Bucky, stridently. “I don’t care about who he fucks. I care about who you fuck.”

“Why?” said Sam, just as loudly. “Why do you care?”

“Because I fuckin’ want you. I want you. And it makes me crazy, Sam, seein’ you with other guys who aren’t fuckin’ good enough for you. It makes me crazy ‘cause it should be me, okay. I should be the one kissin’ on you and makin’ you laugh. I want you, alright. I want you, Wilson, and seein’ you with some guy that ain’t me it just, it –”

Before Bucky could finish his rant-turned-confession, Sam had pulled him close and pressed a passionate kiss to his mouth. Bucky deepened it immediately and pushed Sam up against the wall as their lips, tongues and hands explored one another. Sam let out a small moan as Bucky palmed his ass and then brought their bodies closer. He was just about to hook Sam’s leg and lift him, when the sound of Steve trudging out of his room caused the pair to break the kiss and pull apart.

“Seriously, guys,” said Steve as he rounded the corner and placed his hands on his hips. “Can you argue a little quieter, please? Some of us are tryin’ to sleep.”

“Sorry,” said Sam, as he rushed past Steve, leaving Bucky standing there with his lips, among other things, swollen and pulsing from the kiss. He grabbed his keys and headed in the direction of the front door.

“Sammy, where’re you goin’?” asked a confused Steve.

Sam turned around, but avoided Bucky’s gaze, before saying, “To Erik’s place.”

…..

Bucky lay in his dark bedroom staring up at the barely visible ceiling. He replayed their argument and kiss over and over in his mind. It made sense, now, why he was so irritable whenever he saw Sam with another man: He was jealous because he had feelings for Sam himself. That whole time he had wanted to kiss Sam and be with him, but he didn’t even realize. Not that it mattered now. His ill-timed admission, and subsequent brief make-out session with Sam didn’t matter because Sam had run off to Erik.

“Goddamn it,” said Bucky, as he let out a loud sigh and rolled to his side.

Things were going to be even more awkward the next time Erik came over. Bucky silently chided himself for getting carried away by their kiss; for not realizing sooner that he had feelings for Sam. And then he felt sorry for himself because Sam was with Erik, and there was no way Sam would choose Bucky over a nice, funny, handsome guy like Erik. No. Fucking. Way.

He was so confused and upset that he almost missed the sound of the soft rapping at his door. He let out a sigh, rolled out of bed, and then went to answer it. He was expecting to see Steve, who was now wide awake and finishing off the popcorn, but was surprised to see Sam instead.

“Hey,” said Bucky, gently.

“Hey,” Sam replied. “Can we talk?”

Bucky nodded his head, switched on his light, and then let Sam enter his bedroom. Bucky took up a seat on the bed, and Sam followed suit. He mentally prepared himself for the that-was-all-a-mistake talk. He fidgeted with the hem of his sleep-shirt and avoided Sam’s gaze.

“Look, about before –”

“I’m sorry,” said Bucky, as he looked up at Sam. “I shouldn’t have said or done anything. You’ve got a boyfriend. I was wrong for that.”

“I kissed you first,” said Sam. “I shouldn’t have, but I did. It’s not your fault.”

“I didn’t have to kiss you back,” said Bucky as his gaze fell to Sam’s lips.

Sam mirrored the action and marvelled at just how pink Bucky’s lips actually were.

“We were both wrong,” said Sam as Bucky nodded.

“What did Erik say?” said Bucky. “I assume you went to tell him what happened. Guess he wants to kick my ass now. Let him know I’ve been workin’ out lately.”

He tried to make it sound like he was joking, but his heart was clenching inside of his chest.

“I broke up with Erik,” said Sam.

“What? Why?”

“Because I realized I didn’t want him,” said Sam quietly. “Not really. Not properly. And what happened tonight between us was proof of that. I chose to kiss you, Buck. Not because I got caught up in the moment, but because I wanted to kiss you. I’ve honestly wanted to for a while now. I didn’t’ realize you were into guys, so I never said or did anything.”

“I didn’t even know I was into guys until I met you,” Bucky admitted. “I still don’t know what’s goin’ on with me. Maybe I’m only into you and that’s it.”

Bucky let out a little nervous laugh and ran his fingers through his hair.

“You’re amazing, Sammy,” he added. “You’re the most amazing guy I’ve ever met.”

Sam gave him a sweet smile and said, “So are you.”

They then sat staring at one another for a brief moment before Bucky decided to speak.

“So, what’re we gonna do about this?” said Bucky gesturing between them.

“How about in a few weeks, after you figure some things out, you ask me out on a date?” asked Sam with a coy yet hopeful look on his face.

“Will you say yes?” asked Bucky.

Sam’s smile grew wider before he said, “Yeah, I think I might.”

…..

A few weeks later…

Life with his roommates was better than ever, Bucky realized. Steve was still yelling at the TV and Sam was still making out with a dumbass on the sofa. Only this time, the dumbass was Bucky and he was so completely happy; happier than he had ever been before. Life was great. His new favorite thing to do was to be sprawled out on the couch while Sam slept on top of him. Or to be sitting there with a reclining Sam’s feet in his lap. Or to have Sam, all playful and pretty, straddling him while he peppered kisses to his neck and collarbone; kisses to his lips; kisses down his chest; kisses, kisses, more and more kisses.

“Come on, guys,” Steve would say, when he would find them a tangled, heavy-breathing mess on the sofa. “You’ve got a room and the game’s almost on. So, move your asses and go to your room.”

Bucky would smile at his boyfriend, peck his lips once more, and say, “Oh yeah, we do have a room, don’t we?”

“We do,” Sam would reply, smiling and beautiful. “Let’s go to it.”

#sambucky #sam wilson #bucky barnes #some samerik #steve's there too

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imagining-in-the-margins · 4 years ago

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im honestly sorry if you feel triggered by this, but how do you feel about mgg fans diagnosing him adhd to excuse him saying the r word? isnt that invalidating towards neurodivergent people because hes not actually diagnosed with it? for some reason that just really bothers me (i have horrible adhd that i actually take medication for and it's awful so it annoys me when ppl ask diagnose with it)

So, I don’t have ADHD - I’m neurodivergent because I am autistic - just want to put that out there before I move on.

From my understanding, people mistakenly think that he is actually diagnosed. I’ve seen a few people swear they’ve heard him say it. I’ve searched for awhile, but never been able to find any sign of Matthew explicitly calling himself ND in any manner. Since I think a lot of it comes from a genuine misunderstanding, it doesn’t bother me at all. (*If someone has proof he’s identified that way, please let me know and show me the link!).

As for people who are actually openly and admittedly armchair diagnosing, I take issue with that. I’m a firm believer in self-diagnosis, particularly in America and for adults over the age of 20 with NDs, specifically. It is way harder than a lot of people understand to get a proper autism dx in America if you’re an adult. If my parents weren’t willing/able to testify to my childhood, no psychiatrist would believe me. I think a lot of younger folks don’t realize how much our understanding of neurodiversity has changed in the last three years, nonetheless the last thirteen.

HOWEVER, armchair diagnosis is awful in my eyes. I am not a fan for a number of reasons, part of which being that there is often a bias by the person doing it. A lot of ND symptoms overlap between all of the different “qualifying disorders,” and I constantly see people say X is evidence of Y, when the correct statement is X can be evidence of ABCDEFGHIJKLM- (You get the point).

When it’s done by a NT or able bodied person, I get even more upset. They have no business guessing what it’s like to be us or talk about how they perceive us. It’s not their business. They need to keep their (usually ableist) opinions to themselves, period. I don’t want to hear about whether or not they think there is something “wrong” with literally anyone, ever (that includes Cheeto Man, who people seem real comfortable throwing “bad” mental illness labels on).

Lastly, my biggest problem with armchair diagnosis or outing someone’s disability they don’t outwardly express is that it takes the autonomy away from the person that matters. I personally don’t think it’s right to reclaim a slur if you don’t identify yourself as a member of that demographic, since you are benefiting from the pain without any of the work/danger. That being said, some people’s opinions differ. Our histories with our own disabilities and how the world reacts to them are all very different.

Do I think Matthew is ND? Possibly, but it’s not my place to say that for him. If he doesn’t say he is, then I’ll assume that he is not, because that’s probably what he wants. Until he says otherwise, I will assume that he does not want to be identified as ND, and in my opinion, he shouldn’t say the R slur (which, he hasn’t said in almost 5 years now, has removed from his very first directed works and website, is part of a campaign to replace the word, and he has started heavily advocating for adults with intellectual & developmental disabilities - one of THE most neglected demographics).

Finally, I actually have some semi-controversial feelings about the R-slur itself and who should feel comfortable reclaiming it. The ND umbrella is extremely massive, and includes wildly different experiences. When specifically referencing the R-slur, the people whose opinions should be amplified the most, to me, are the people with intellectual and developmental disabilities that also suffered at the hands of the educational system.

As someone who was in school in the nineties, I went from being officially marked the R-slur on my educational record & being told I’d never be able to hold a job or be a functioning member of society... to being told I needed to skip 3 grades & that I was a genius... Those two experiences are so, so, so, so, SO painfully different. Sure, I still got called the R-slur for my other behaviors outside of the educational context, but we can’t erase the VERY different experiences in SpEd and TAG programs. I just want people to think about that, too. I personally get kind of uncomfortable when people who’ve never struggled with learning or intelligence tests tell me they get to use the word. I don’t feel comfortable using the word, but I also grew up in a very different time. I’m glad that people feel more comfortable with reclaiming the word now, though, because it means we’ve made progress and they feel safer with it! There’s a lot to it, and it’s an intracommunity discussion, anyway.

That’s a brief summary on my feelings. Mainly I want people to be patient with people who say he has ADHD just because I think a lot of people genuinely (albeit mistakenly) believe he’s identified that way. A lot of ND people cling to any representation we can find because it is so rare to find. I try to be more understanding with the topic for that reason.

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blueprint-han · 4 years ago

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This is my last psa-esque post here but,, Okay um,,, now regarding some weird asks (which I'm not gonna answer because woosh do I not want my anxiety to skyrocket) I've gotten in the past two days— what? When did I ever say I hate smut writers?

Here's the truth— if you'd gone through my blog for literally two minutes before blindly taking in smth a person said, you'd know— I have NEVER said that I hate smut writers. Never. If you think I have, please point it out. If you can find any place where I've said I HATE smut writers, I'll apologise. I promise, it's either been out of anger due to irl (I've realised I have an anger management problem, and am working on approaching things in a calm manner), or in a bad state of mind. And i don't mean that in an angry way: Seriously, if I've ever said smth that way, pls just tell me, and I'll apologise. I promise.

Another point— I have never SPREAD HATE to anyone on this site and you can quote me on that. I know the impact of hate anons or any sort of hate in general, I've seen my friends go through it, I'VE gone through it. I even said in my incorrect tagging post that I DO think that smut writers are real people, they don't deserve hate, NO ONE deserves hate, and I've mentioned on this blog many times that I'm a hard-turned-soft stan, And that I've read nsfw before. WHY is it that some of you've started to blindly assume that I'm some sort of demonic hater that goes around smut writer's ask boxes and spreads hate? What have I said of that sorts that's made you believe something like this?

You know the thing you've twisted? The fact that I said "I feel uncomfortable with people who write smut for idols with a 7+ age gap". Yes, I won't be scared to mention this here. See the "I feel" here? In the very first post I made about this, and the other one and the reblogs, I've expressed MY OPINION. An opinion. And even in that post, as far as I can remember, I've never said I blatantly HATE those people. Just that I was uncomfortable with them, and I stated my opinions about it. I've not gone to these blogs and spread hate, nor have I explicitly called them out. Again, if I've said something that appears hateful and angry and condescending, I truly did not mean it that way, now that I'm thinking with a clear mind, and I'm sorry about it. Like I said, if I've ever said something like that, I will apologise, and I AM apologising for it. Which morphs into the next point:

I realise that I'm using this blog to get rid of my frustration on my real life, and due to me making those posts in this dim situation I'm in right now, they're all coming off as very angry, aggressive, and hateful— something that I really don't want to happen. I really really do not have a personal grudge against anyone over here, I promise. And I'm going to take responsibility and apologise if I've ever unintentionally caused any hate to be sent to any blogs because of my rants, because truly, I don't want to. And that is why, I will stop. I'm not going to be making any rant posts from now on, except for ones about my irl situations, because that's still pretty low and not very bright. If I really have to, I'll do it on some private sideblog where they won't get any sort of attention, but mostly, I'll try to not be like this. I'm not trying to attain sympathy, I will take responsibility for the fact that my rant posts DO infact come off as very aggressive when I'm trying to state my opinions, which I shouldn't even do in the first place because it's unnecessary and may cause hate to be spread by people who have the time to look up these blogs. I will apologise. I'm sorry. I really, really don't want to be the cause someone got hate, nor do I want to be so aggressive in my rants any longer. I will change and work to be better. ♡ three days ago, I deleted all my rant posts, and this will be a change for me. A new startm

But the point is; I do not hate smut writers. I don't. I have FRIENDS who are smut writers themselves, and they talk and interact with me quite regularly. Please don't spread twist my words and spread wrong information. Everything I've said before this, I'm almost sure I've never stated that I hate smut writers or spread hate to them in any form. If I've ever said I'm bitter towards someone, which I frankly don't remember doing so but will still clear up, it's two people who've spread private information about me around, who happen to be smut writers and adults, and it may not seem like much, but believe it or not, it was borderline traumatising for me. It was one of the worst periods in my life. My mental health suffered a lot in that time. And to this date, I DO infact still have that bitterness in me towards them, and even then, I don't HATE them. I dislike them for what they did, but to stoop as low as to send anon hate, or any hate to someone? I'd never do that. You can take my word for it. I've said a lot of shit in anger, and now that I've had time to think these two days, I'm very sorry for anything that I'VE caused. I'll take responsibility and apologise.

Tldr; I don't hate smut writers and anything that has EVER come off as that sort it was mostly on a state of anger or bad mentality or sadness, and since that may not be a valid justification for some people, I will say, I'm sorry. I will work to improve my behavior and how I run this blog, and will aim to make this the same bright cheery place it was at the beginning. ♡ if you read this all the way, thank you.♡

#dawn.txt #psa #oof this got long #I'd honestly prefer to not have any asks sent about this poat #because this is just to clear stuff up #i shall get back to writing and reflect on my actions and make myself a better person.#do not reblog

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a-lil-perspective · 4 years ago

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I don’t want to be that person—

But I really need to get this off my chest. This is the culmination of two months buildup of thoughts that have been screaming far too loud for me to continue simply taking in stride. I can’t do it. I apologize in advance, for anyone who actually reads this, if this is a deterrent to you about my character or my minuscule space taken up here on Tumblr. Again, I really can no longer remain silent. If it’s any solace:

I tried.

Where to begin. First off—as much as I’d love for this to be an update on the next chapter of Remember Me, it is not. For those of you who’ve kept up with the story, I’m sure you’ve noticed my uploading pattern these past few weeks has been reduced to solely weekends—and barely that, might I add. While I will try to have Chapter 9 up within the next few days, I cannot guarantee when. At this point in time, it’s not a lack of creative streak, it’s a lack of time. I have all these outlines and segments in my head but can’t seem to even catch a breath much less put the story down in my notes or in Word for later edit and upload. But I’m trying. I really am. As I’ve said before: I will finish this story, come hell or high water. But currently being engulfed in the former has been a huge burden.

Per my past psa’s: My health? Two giant thumbs down (nothing to do with COVID-19). Personal aspects? Two giant thumbs down. Both are and have been slowly corroding me. To avoid this post seemingly grabbing for sympathy, I’m going to just stop there with that. But I’m truly suffocating in this corner.

Next point in case: I’m going to be completely candid here. It’s extremely difficult and utterly exhausting to continue posting fics. Mentally and Emotionally. The pressure to post. The pressure to post because if you don’t in a timely manner, you lose your momentum and “fall behind” when you post again. Then you’re right back to square one thereafter because people have grown absent in your absence. It’s exhausting and stressful to spin in that wheel.

It’s difficult when you pour every drop of energy into a work, only for it to sit largely unnoticed on your blog. To stay up literally all night making sure your punctuation is impeccable, re-reading the same fic over and over before you post until your brain explodes and you utterly forsake the fic the minute you hit that post button. To take up space on a post tagging and adding those notes and engaging flares that go unrequited. It’s... well, it’s detrimental. It gets you down. It gets me down. I’m not going to lie about that. We all want validation and I will be the first to shoot my hand up in acknowledgement.

I’m going to stop right there as you’re reading to clarify: This is not a call-out post. This is not a guilt post. This is not me giving an ultimatum. This is not me demanding reblogs. This is not me telling you “your likes don’t matter” (I have literally seen that on posts and it kind of disgusts me. That’s all I’m going to say about that for now).

Reblogs, while unanimously appreciated, are not a priority to me. Comments and feedback and communication are invaluable to me. That’s it. That coveted and intimate interaction between the Writer and the Reader. One is not more important than the other. We’re a team, a unit, a force that balances each other on a broad, diverse scale.

I don’t ask for much—I don’t ask for anything here, actually (unless it’s directed towards the general audience over what y’all would like to see, which largely goes unengaged whenever I bring up). No, I don’t post fics that frequently. No, I don’t crank them out as quick. No, I don’t have that many. Yes, I’m new to fanfic writing. But I work quietly and solely with all my own plots and dialogues and ideas (I love prompts and requests, though). Thus my usually hefty works. Y’all get the whole nine yards. But I don’t feel like I really get to bounce my ideas around to others, which can further exacerbate that sense of isolation for me around here. I put myself through a really long process for every single thing I write because, the quality of my work matters to me. A lot. So I try to take my time to deliver that. And... I guess I just hope you know that or can discern that as you read each time.

Another astronomically exhausting aspect is this platform itself. It’s painfully evident to me, in my four meager months here, that Tumblr is just one big popularity contest. Who can upload the most, the fastest, the most efficiently. Who has the most followers. Who accumulates them the quickest. A place where your “exposure” is literally at the mercy of others. And when people purposely don’t want to aid in that, it spirals into this really toxic mindset causing friction between Writers and other Writers, causing unnecessary strain, avoidance, insecurities, and hinderances to YOUR precious work. And I’m not about that. It’s a no from me.

Also, I’ve just got to interject with this bit: Bad Batch Writers. Bad Batch Writers struggle. In my opinion, from what I’ve seen, it’s like if you aren’t writing for a popular Clone like Wolffe or Fives or Jesse, you don’t get traffic. Which I think is just... kind of corny. Okay. I think it’s really corny and ridiculous. Please know that I’m not saying anything bad about those Clone babies, the people who write them, or anything like that. Please don’t hear what I’m not saying. I’m just making a point. Bad Batch does NOT get enough love. And the Writers ultimately suffer because of it. That’s all there.

We’re all supposed to be in this together. Your work—your writing—is neither good nor bad. There’s no such thing. There’s only YOUR writing; your unique, beautiful words that I LOVE more than anything, that only YOU speak. We all speak a different dialect and flow through our storytelling. And it’s a beautiful, wholesome thing. It always has been. It should never be this detrimental stage Tumblr has made for content creators. Let’s be honest: Tumblr is not the ideal place to thrive. And I’m just... sick of it.

I’m beyond an exhausted state. I can’t remember that last time I wasn’t. (I know everyone is, with the ebb and flow of our world’s daily uncertainties during these unprecedented times). But for me, personally, it’s getting increasingly harder to keep up with the reblogs and comments and blogs of all the stories I love, while updating my work and trying to interact on my blog, while battling my health and nonexistent energy, and constantly be exposed to the “Tumblr Tumbles”, as I call it—the overbearing popularity and the waiting and the wondering and the silent seething because of it. It’s just too much. And it doesn’t take a detective to pick up on that attitudinal shift around here. It’s all just one big, pernicious cycle. And seeing that here nearly every day, exhausts me. I don’t know how else to convey as much. But I just can’t do it. And honestly, I get this overwhelming loneliness just being here.

I don’t know what I’m trying to say. I’m going to continue doing my thing until my engine sputters out. I’m going to keep up with storytelling, because I love it more than anything. I just needed to get this off my chest. I’m just rambling. I might delete this but, I might not. Who knows.

I just... Geez. I need to know that I’m not just shouting into the void over here like always.

Communication to me is key. If you don’t want me to tag you anymore: tell me. If you don’t want me to message you: tell me. Please. Just don’t like me? Cool. Tell me. It’s better to know and communicate than to walk on eggshells around everyone and everything. I’ve applied that flawed strategy throughout my whole life and I strongly dislike doing so. It adds no benefit to either party. Just be honest with yourself and others. That’s always super important.

For those of you, my handful of regulars who are around... you know who you are. Thank you. My thanks is but a meager conveyance of my undying gratitude for you. But I want you to know how much I appreciate your presence here. Words cannot express.

@halzore... You are a real mate. You are an incredible being who is not only insightful but, a true muse here. I look to you as more than just a devoted Reader of mine, and you should know that I would NOT have gotten this far with my Bad Batch Post Order: 66 series—or any of my Bad Batch works, for that matter—without your encouraging words. Holy cow. You’re a dearest friend. Your writing, art, and musical talent leaves me in awe. (A truly brilliant mind, please go love her y’all). Thank you for seeing all the good, little things in me and my work. It makes this all worth it. You make it all worth it. I get really overwhelmed thinking about it. But I just want you to know I appreciate you so much.

To anyone who’s ever left me kind, encouraging, and wonderful comments... I remember them. I do. I think of them when I’m down, and I think of them now as I write this—which is in my dispirited state, ironically. But I appreciate it. I think it is so SO important to lift each other up with words. You don’t have to reblog and all that (only speaking for myself here). Just take a moment to say something kind to someone. It makes someone’s entire day, week, month, year. Please... love other Writers. Love yourself. We all struggle. But let’s do it together. Let’s be there for each other.

Come talk to me. I don’t bite, I promise. Tell me about your day. Tell me something about yourself. I care. I love that interaction, because you are MORE than just a Reader to me. You are a valued human being with feelings, desires, wants, needs... come share that with me. If there’s something you’d like to see in my future works, something that would engage you more; please, come tell me.

I’m going to try and get better. At writing, at navigating this strange place, with my health, with life. I’ve been at my breaking point for so long that my barely held together pieces and exposed, worn chinks are almost uneffected and unresponsive to any help or healing. But I’m going to try.

Thank you for being here. I’m sure it can be hard to have patience with me and my nonexistent uploading schedule, but, I do have several wips in the works (teases in my masterlist in case you’re wondering). They’ll come around. :’)

Keep your head up and shining, lovelies. And I’ll try to do the same.

#psa #lil speaks #I’m... sorry.#I have a ton of anxiety posting this but I’m also almost indifferent.#could I have worked on my WIPS instead of this?#yes #did I? no.#yes this is long but I needed to say all that.#I’m tired.#trying not to explode.#it’s a lil thing

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mackwritess · 4 years ago

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Westwood Road

Word count: 3k+

Summary: It’s your average high school romance. The boy meets a girl who accepts him despite his hidden secret, and in turn he changes her. But what happens when she’s got her own little secret?

A/N: Hi! This story represents a lot of milestones for me as this is both my first commission and my first attempt at romance! I hope you like it!

He’s running late. It’s a character flaw of his, really. A problem he’s never been able to correct, no matter how many alarms he set to go off in time. This time though, it isn’t just some unimportant thing he’s late for, oh no.

Today, he’s meeting her parents.

He takes a sharp turn down her street, the street people normally avoid. He doesn’t have time to think about the warnings he’s gotten about this old gravel road. He has somewhere to be.

He finally decides to slow down a bit in order to ensure he doesn’t pass up his destination by mistake. Slowing down to what feels like a snail’s pace, he pays close attention to each disheveled home he passes by, looking out for the house that was described to him.

Luckily, he didn’t have to look particularly hard, as she was standing outside the very place he was looking for, waiting for him to arrive.

He slows his vehicle to a stop and jumps out immediately, trying to make up every second he may have lost. Running over to where she stands, he tries to rush out an apology, explaining his situation. Instead of lashing out as he fears, she offers him a serene, almost eerie, smile. She assures him he’s right on time, and takes his hand to lead him inside.

How they met was something straight out of a romantic comedy.

He was running late, of course, to a special event at his local video game store. He insists it’s not his fault this time, really, it’s not. He’s got a reputation to uphold, he can’t be caught hanging out with a bunch of people who’ve never even been to prom without a group of friends rather than a date, he rationalizes. He’s ducking around corners and hiding behind telephone poles in a borderline cartoonish manner, hoping he won’t run into someone from school, specifically anyone he’s on a team with.

After finally arriving at the store, he can finally drop his elaborate manner of movement, certain that he’ll run into no trouble here. Upon arrival, he spots the table set up for the event he’s attending, already surrounded by others who are there for the same reason he is. He scans the scene quickly, looking for a place to sit, and his eyes find an empty seat next to a girl.

He thinks nothing of it and takes a seat next to her, offering her a small smile when he does. It’s only when she turns to look at him that he realizes he knows her from somewhere. Perhaps he’s seen her in the store before, though he isn’t quite sure.

Today’s event is for a game tournament. It’s a relatively popular game, if the attendance of this event is anything to go by. After the order of the tournament is decided, he’s careful not to take his eyes off his other opponents' game play, hoping to catch on to any tricks they may have.

The girl he had sat next to doesn’t appear to have any particular strategy. Unlike her more animated competitors, she remains calm, her expression blank.

Eventually, after making his way up the tournament bracket, he finds himself facing her in the final. He’s nervous, having been unable to learn anything about her potential, but can tell that she’s skilled.

“I’m nervous,” she says suddenly, “You’re really good.”

He’s caught off guard. She hasn’t spoken a word this entire time, and he’s certain he’s only gotten this far by luck. All he can do is offer her a sheepish smile, before the game begins.

He’s feeling a little misled by the time their turn concludes. Not only was he utterly destroyed, but their match was the shortest out of all the others, lasting a measly two minutes. She’s given her prize, a gift card to be used in the store, and immediately stands from her seat, presumably to begin her shopping with her newly earned funds.

He finds himself following after her, not to berate her or accuse her of cheating like some people his age might do, but rather to ask how the hell she managed to do what she did in such a fashion. He finds her looking at the old used games, likely because of their relatively low price range compared to the rest of the items in the store.

He’s unsure how to approach her, the first time he’s ever been nervous about such a thing. He can’t quite place it, but something about her is making him feel sheepish and insecure in a way. It’s when he finally decides what he’ll start with, a simple “hello” that he sees her pick up an old game he recalls from childhood. Immediately, he calls out to her, seeming to startle her, and explains the relationship he has with the game.

“It’s one of the first games I ever owned,” he elaborates. “I’ve never even gotten to complete it. Haven’t seen the cartridge in years.”

The girl seems to consider his words. “What if I let you borrow it? After I’m done with it, of course.”

He lights up at her offer. “I would love that!” He says, albeit a little loudly, attracting the attention of other patrons in the store. Taking note, he lowers his voice. “But how would I know to get it back from you, and how would I return it?”

“Well, it is the twenty-first century after all. I could just give you my number.” He cringes at himself, realizing how clueless he must seem.

“Right, yea, we could do that.” He moves to take her phone to enter his number before pausing. “Wait. Do you mind keeping this a secret?”

“I mean, sure,” she says, clearly confused by his odd request, “Can I ask why?”

“No one knows I do things like this, it’s a bit of a guilty pleasure of mine. If people found out, my reputation would be ruined.” He expects her to get angry. To tell him he has no respect for the hobby or the people who play professionally.

Instead, she laughs.

“What year is this? Dude, everyone plays video games these days. What, do you think you’re gonna get bullied if you tell your friends you like Mario?” She laughs again, and he decides he likes the sound of it.

“It’s a long story, alright? Just promise me you won’t say anything,” he says, trying to preserve what little dignity he has left after today.

“Fine, fine. I’ll keep your dirty little secret,” she says. She hands him his phone, and he quickly inputs his name and number. Upon finishing, he looks up and hands the phone back to her. Though, he’s afraid to make eye contact, so instead he finds himself watching the fly that seems to have appeared out of nowhere.

“How long do you think it’ll take for you to finish?” He asks, trying to shift the conversation back.

“Not sure,” she says with a shrug. “I’ve never played, could be weeks, months even. But I’ll get back to you as soon as I finish.” He nods, already eager to talk to her again.

Three days later, he receives a message.

What had begun as a simple exchange had quickly turned into a friendship between the two of them. The two of them clicked better than he had ever expected. Upon talking more to her, he realizes she looked familiar because they have a few classes together. He worries that she’ll be upset that he didn’t know her, but instead she laughs it off.

They’ve made it a weekly tradition now to meet once every week at the game store where they first met. They talk about their favorite releases, look at new equipment that the store has gotten in, and comb over the clearance section, hoping to get their hands on a cheap game or two.

This time, though, his luck appears to have run out.

The two of them are making their way around the store, looking for a particular pair of headphones that professional gamers swear is the best product in the business. Upon examining them, deciding they won’t look at the price tag just yet, he hears a familiar voice call out his name.

He looks up, and is met with the confused expression of his teammate.

“What are you doing here?” He asks.

“I’m looking for some game for my brother, he’s got his heart set on it so I’m getting it as a Christmas gift. What are you doing here?”

He stutters, trying to come up with an explanation, when she peers from behind him to see what the sudden commotion is about.

“It’s a game store, can’t you read?” She asks, obviously irritated by the interruption. “Why don’t you look for what you came here for and mind your business?”

He’s shocked by her sudden outburst, and when he turns to look at her, she’s back to browsing the shelves as if nothing happened.

“You’re here with her too? Man, you really must be desperate for something to do,” the other boy responds, unphased by her words.

“What’s wrong with her?” He lets slip immediately, wanting to return the favor.

“You’re telling me you haven’t heard? She lives on Westwood Road. You know, that old freaky abandoned road at the edge of town?”

“So what?”

“What do you mean, so what?” The boy balks. “That place is haunted, no sane person would ever live there, besides, even ignoring the fact that she’s probably some undead weirdo, this place is for nerds.”

He moves to say something, but a fearful expression briefly moves past the other boy’s face, and he’s backing away.

“You know what? Forget it. I won’t tell anyone I saw you, just keep that freak away from me.” He turns around and quickly moves to another part of the store.

“Well,” she says, drawing his attention back to her, “that was something.”

He profusely apologizes to her, which she brushes off and insists is fine. She continues her shopping, deciding she’ll buy the overpriced headset she’s heard so much, and he asks when he’ll be allowed to borrow them.

It had been a few months since the incident, and rather than growing farther apart like he feared, they’d actually grown much closer. They spend almost every day together now, whether it be just goofing off or working on school assignments together. With spring break underway, today is one of their goofing off days.

He decides that today he’s going to ask her to go to prom with him.

He doesn’t really have a plan, deciding he’ll keep it simple and wing it rather than some big display of affection. He’ll wait for the right moment, and then he’ll ask her and hope he doesn’t get rejected.

They’re at a local diner now, having decided after last time that if they get confronted again that they can handle it. He’s listening to her explain the plot of a game she’s been struggling with lately. She’s clearly frustrated, having never struggled with a game before, and he finds it endearing.

“Will you go to prom with me?” He asks, not realizing he’s said anything until she stops ranting, a shocked expression appearing on her face.

“What did you just say?”

“I was just thinking, since we’ve been hanging out so much. I don’t know, I don’t really talk to any other girls and I really like spending time with you and I just thought-“

She cuts off his rambling by throwing a napkin at his face, a small smile gracing her lips.

“Relax, already. I just wanted to see you freak out a little,” she chuckles lightly. “I’d love to go with you.”

He lets out a sigh of relief, pulling another laugh from her.

“I really thought you’d reject me for a second there.”

“Do you really take me as being that heartless?”

“Heartless isn’t the word I’d use.”

“Intimidating?”

“That’s the one.”

They continue to talk for hours on end, until the street lights outside the diner turn on. Another fly appears in his field of vision, though his focus this time is entirely on her.

“What are you smiling about?” She asks, having stopped at her front door, waiting for him to snap back from whatever thought he was having.

“Remember prom?” She laughs immediately.

“Yea, how could I forget the wonky chocolate fountain they had that got all over everyone’s clothes?”

“I still can’t believe I talked you into going to an after party.”

“Listen, I heard there was a pool, I wasn’t about to say no.”

The two of them laugh again, reminiscing on the night they decided to make their relationship official.

“C’mon,” she says, suddenly much quieter, “let’s head in.”

He follows her through the door, and is met with a surprisingly nice house compared to the disheveled appearance. There’s a few paintings hung up on the wall, and an old fireplace lit in the living room.

He makes his way through the house, curiosity overtaking his thoughts that he may be acting a bit rude for digging around. He finds a decently sized kitchen, and a dining room straight out of a centuries old painting.

While he looks around, she’s following him slowly, hoping the old furniture is enough to distract him from her presence. She lifts the weapon above her head and, right as he moves to turn around, brings it down on his head.

He wakes up after what feels like days, when in reality it’s only been about an hour. His head is throbbing, and when he tries to move, he finds himself unable to, his hands having been tied behind him. He’s in a dark room, barely able to see anything as his visions adjusts to the lack of light. The smell of sulfur invades his nostrils, worsening his headache.

“You’re awake, I see. I thought you’d be out for at least another hour or two.”

He hears her voice before he sees her. When she steps forward, he notices something is different. Her demeanor has changed, and he finds himself sitting up in the chair he’s tied to.

“What happened? Where are we? Are you okay?”

“How sweet, you’re worried about me?” She sighs, “Don’t do that, my dear boy. You’re starting to make me feel a little bad for what’s about to happen.”

He’s about to ask her what she means, when she speaks again.

“Oh, have you not figured it out yet? I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. This has been one of my most successful catches, after all.”

“Catches?” He asked, still not understanding.

“Must I explain everything?” She shrugs. “Fine, I suppose I can tell you how you’ll be dying.” His eyes widen, and he opens his mouth to scream when she interrupts him. “Don’t bother, we’re underground. No one will hear you.”

“What the hell is going on? Who are you?”

“I have many names. It’d be easier if you think of me as the one I already gave you.”

“Why am I tied up? What are you doing?”

“Well in order to get to that, we’ll have to start from the beginning, wouldn’t you agree?” He doesn’t respond. “Why don’t we play a little game? Did you notice anything strange when we first met?”

He thinks back. Nothing particular stands out to him, except for one thing.

“There was a fly, that was pretty weird.” He finds himself laughing, despite his situation. “I was too afraid to look at you, so I watched the fly.”

“Judging by the way you’re laughing right now, I assume you don’t know what this means.”

“You’re right, I don’t.”

“Anything else you noticed? A certain smell perhaps?”

“Sulfur. I smell sulfur.” She says nothing. He’s deep in thought. “So you’re a demon?”

“Ding ding ding! Smart boy, I knew you wouldn’t let me down.”

“Why me? Why did it have to be me?”

“Oh, it’s nothing personal, really. You just seemed the perfect target. Looks like I was right.” Again, she’s met with silence. “I know it’s hard for you to accept, but I never loved you. You’re a food source for me, nothing more.” Still, he says nothing.

“So now what happens? You eat my soul or something?” He asks, finally.

“Precisely! And since you’ve won the game, I've decided to let you have your last words. Go ahead.” He looks her directly in the eye.

“You’re lying.”

“W-what?” She stutters, caught off guard. “I’m not lying, why else do you think your loud friend ran off that day?”

“No no, I believe that you’re a demon. What I don’t believe is that you never loved me.” It’s her turn to stay silent. Taking note, he continues. “It’s not hard to tell when feelings are real, and yours clearly were, whether you’re ready to admit it or not.”

“They weren’t!” She yells, beginning to shake.

“Now that I think about it, I’ve heard of your kind before. Your death relates to lost love, and now you live as a demon, breaking hearts and feeding on the souls because this is how you survive. How you get your revenge.”

“Stop it,” she screams, “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I know you love me, really, but I know you no choice.” She’s crying now. All she can do is shake her head violently in denial. “But it’s okay. Because I still love you. And I forgive you.”

She leaves the house covered in his blood. She found herself unable to consume his soul, as even after all she’d done, she was still unable to break him. Out of anger, and sadness, she had ripped him apart, leaving his body scattered across the room.

For years, she’s been living on this road. She’d never encountered any problems, and she never had to think too much about what she would ultimately end up doing to her victims. This time was different.

She was suddenly disgusted with herself, after doing what she’d done to so many people. Maybe she’d find some other way to sustain herself. Perhaps one day, she’d reunite with him, one day when she felt she was worthy of a love so pure.

For now, though, she would leave Westwood Road, and start somewhere new.

#support black writers #my writing #writing #short story #short stories #short fiction #supportblackcreatives #supportblackauthors #horror #romance #romantic comedy #romcom #demon

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luckycheesefoodie321 · 5 years ago

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Prince of Tennis (2019) meme

I was tagged by @hardworkingprocrastinator aka @rupru-russiaxprussia whom I do believe I ranted with about the Imperial Pair ship, and the unexpected potential of Si Yang x Qi Ying… so thanking you kindly for another excuse to rave about ChinaPuri… sooo uhhh time for some fun times!!

Tagging: I have 0 idea who to tag because we a smaller fandom

Warning: I have not watched or read the original manga/anime soooooo I’m in an even smaller subset of the fandom babeyyyy!!! It has also been a couple months since I watched the show, so there is a strong chance I’ll have forgotten names and situations, and just general thoughts I have... BUT WHATEVER time to rant to the thirteen people who’ve watched ChinaPuri!!!

Questions:

1. Favorite character(s)? 2. Favorite school team(s)? 3. Favorite coach(es)? 4. Favorite supporting cast member(s)? (characters who aren’t regulars, aren’t on tennis teams etc.) 5. Favorite original character(s) in the adaptation? 6. Who do you think enacted their role best? 7. Favorite singles match? 8. Favorite doubles match? 9. Favorite story arc? 10. Most amusing tenipuri scene(s)/moment(s)/running joke(s)? 11. What did you like most about the adaptation? 12. What do you think the adaptation could have improved on? 13. Any other thoughts you want to share?

Answers: THIS ISH GETS LONGGGGG SO CUT OFF NOW

1. Favorite character(s)?

MU SI YANG BABEYYYYY!!! I already love a stoic glasses boi, but Mu Si Yang (again not TeniPuri Tezuka, just ChinaPuri Si Yang) may be one of my favourite takes on the stoic glasses boi… like I don’t often enjoy live action versions of anime, especially because the acting is never the best (and granted this one too, had some okay performances) but the guy who plays Mu Si Yang melted my heart… he was the stony-faced serious captain, who could deliver a subtle joke that left you snickering… but he was also the determined, earnest, crazy talented leader with his own hidden struggles who just wanted to take his team and friends as far as they go into competition… which is an essential part of any good sports drama… and he captured it so perfectly… and I love him.. he’s so beautiful too… I would fall in love with him in a heartbeat, and I don’t often say that about characters (like I love them but never in love ya dig?)

Zhou Zhi was a close favourite…basically I just love the two genius senpais…

2. Favorite school team(s)?

Oh god… Yu Feng maybe? We spend the most time with them, they have the most screen time of all the other teams…we have a whole training arc where they’re continuously winning against the struggling to evolve Yu Qing…very reminiscent of the Karasuno-Nekoma rivalry in that they help each other get better… I would’ve loved to see the rivalry/camaraderie develop even more so that when Si Yang leaves, the relief at having this network of tennis friends would’ve been that much more powerful…

Also I really enjoy Xu Ziping’s hustle… I love the story of Yu Feng…they had a shitty coach and had to make a deal to keep winning in order to even remain an official team… and when Yu Qing faced Yu Feng, I really couldn’t tell who I wanted to root for because I knew there was real weight behind every loss for Yu Feng…

After that, maybe No. 6… they’re so chill, they’re not straining for each win and just enjoying their time on the court…and the Old Coach dude was a great character to introduce...

3. Favorite coach(es)?

Maybe No. 6’s coach… I legit can’t remember his name but he oozes skill and experience without all the stress of younger coaches who bend over backwards for success… and while, again, the circumstances surrounding his appearance was a bit waffle-y in execution (which is about par for live action adaptations), I love that he serves as a sage outsider who can assess in three seconds what kind of player Lu Xia is, and what he needs to do to improve… I love me a good wise character who still knows how to inspire people in a fun way but you never, for a second, doubt that what they’re saying is legit advice, even if their mannerisms are goofy…

4. Favorite supporting cast member(s)? (characters who aren’t regulars, aren’t on tennis teams etc.)

Oh I mean…Stretcher Bros for life amirite? They were great…they were just hanging out, trying out.. Huang Jing is kinda jerk-ish, but he’s the starting antagonist who turns out to have a pure heart and a genuine love of the sport (kinda like Tsukishima Kei from Haikyuu!! or the GoMs from Kuroko no Basuke)… and Xiu Wen is such a soft boi who wants to shower in peace without girls being in the locker room…

Put these two besties together forever…and I just love how cuddly they are with each other…no hesitation to hold hands or hug…it’s gooood

5. Favorite original character(s) in the adaptation?

Um…idk who’s an original character??? Again never watched the original anime/read the manga!

SO IMMA CHANGE THIS TO FAVOURITE SHIP!

5.5. Favourite ship? (Get ready my friendsss issa long one)

Si Yang x Qi Ying my friendssss… a super unexpected pairing that came outta nowhere!!! Because the trailer clearly shows (or maybe it doesn’t and I forgot) that Lu Xia and Qi Ying are gonna be THE THING but then we get hit with the surprise senpai-kouhai/team manager ship and I’m like uhhh were you planning this or am I reading into it too much???

Like y’all they were flirting right in the beginning… that whole bit where she stands outside the change rooms and Si Yang confronts her, and she begs him to add Lu Xia to the team (even tho he already did) and he was weirdly teasing her about the roster when he had no reason to, and she was kinda bantering back with him and she fully called him out later on… i was like, umm this is a vibe

They just kept getting thrown together in weird ways…aside from Lu Xia, she’s probably had the most interactions with Si Yang of all the other team members… she’s the only one he calls Xiao~ like the boys in the tennis club have their nicknames like Dachi, Ah Mu, Ah Yan, but only Qi Ying is Xiao Ying!! he’s not a nickname guy… and maybe if it were a girl/cheerleader thing, you’d think he’d call Peng Xiang, Xiao Xiang BUT NO… only Qi Ying gets called Xiao Ying!!!

AND ANOTHER THING: other than Lu Xia, he’s the only one concerned for Qi Yang, despite what he says, when she gets caught in the rain and gets sick… he fully visits her in her room, and receives the call about her health after they send her to the hospital… he says everyones worried BUT YO they’re straight up just bored and end up having a pillow fight…sooooo can’t be that worried…

AND ONE MORE THING: Qi Ying, I get she’s this weird mascot/team manager figure on their team (even tho she’s meant to be a cheerleader but they never invite Peng Xiang to any of their team dinners or their training camp) BUT WHEN SI YANG RETURNS HOME, THEY SEND IN QI YING TO GREET HIM and they have this whole charming convo where she teases him...and they were chatting as if they always had this banter going on but they’d only talked like 3 or 4 times on screen before then, so there’s this whole relationship she has with the tennis team (not just Lu Xia) that is implied but we don’t really see it! And when she teasingly calls him Captain Si Yang after he returns to China, he had the softest smileeee!!! HE TOTALLY DOES HAVE A SOFT SPOT FOR HER!! He didn’t want her to think he wasn’t happy to see her... and then she leads him to their surprise party in the club room and he just keeps saying Xiao Ying… like damn you keep trying to establish the Lu Xia x Qi Ying ship (and it is a decently strong ship) but Si Yang x Qi Ying is soooo good!

After this Rival Pair, and then Golden Pair - our resident married couple

(POST Here: all the gay faves they didn’t even try to hide)

(POST Here: almost confirmed ships by the end)

6. Who do you think enacted their role best?

I…I think this is obvious… NEXT

Jk… other than Si Yang, I really enjoyed the guy who plays Lu Xia - Peng Yu Chang… he played the typical “stoic, super talented/genius sports idiot” type prolific in sports anime (like Furuya from Daiya no A, Kageyama from Haikyuu!!, Midorima from KnB)… but he was never too stuck in his head, and he was never mean… too often there’ll be a moment where this type of character is played too seriously, gets stuck in their own head, and lashes out at anyone they deem getting in their way, especially when they feel they’re stuck in a rut… which Lu Xia is in, for essentially the entirety of the show, in one form or another…

But PYC played Lu Xia as this mildly cocky, but still incredibly enthusiastic young genius who is looking for the next big challenge so as to further himself, but is so obsessed with this one opponent (his dad), that he can’t see the bigger picture and realise his entire way of playing is a mirror of the very opponent he’s trying to overcome… but even at the height of his stagnation, he’s never mean to Qi Ying, who tries her best to support and encourage him… while he does distance himself from the team, it’s not an active dismissal of their assistance or support… he can play a straight faced comic when embarrassed/discombobulated (like Si Yang when faced with Yan Juice), but also always participates in most of the weird antics his team is up to… and it never feels OOC and thats clearly a result of Peng Yu Chang’s subtle acting…

ALSO PENG YU CHANG IS IN OUR SHINING DAYS, A SUPER UNDERRATED CHINESE FILM THAT HAS SO MUCH POTENTIAL TO BE ADAPTED INTO LIKE, A ONE SEASON SHOW AND I HIGHLY RECOMMEND YOU WATCH IT

7. Favorite singles match?

Oh pfft… please… PLEASE IS THERE EVEN A QUESTION it was arguably the best match of the whole show, it was what we were all waiting for, a super tension filled, super hyped up match because it features my favourite character, who has simultaneously been promoted as THE BEST PLAYER ON THE TEAM but also super injured and avoiding over-exertion… MU SI YANG…against his personal rival, whom had never tasted defeat before, and subsequently trained like crazy, throwing all of the money at professional players, FOR A YEAR, in order to be ready to face him… JI JING WU

That’s right baby, its the Imperial Pair Match (I do hope I’m using all these nicknames correctly..I just tried to pick them up from the anime/manga to save time writing out their names XD)…

This match is everything you ever want in a match…it’s a gritty, no-holds-barred, all-out, clash-of-titans-style face-off between probably the two most talented players in that whole (province? Prefecture? Idk China regional names) BUT YEAH THESE TWO ARE CLEARLY TOP TIER PLAYERS WHO FINALLY GO HEAD TO HEAD… it’s a year in the making, Ji Jing Wu is in peak physical condition, but Si Yang is not…and yet we see Si Yang powering through the literal agony of an arm injury that threatens complete destruction of not only his tennis career, but his general usage of that arm… and for glory and to bring his team to the national stage, Si Yang lays it all on the line… and he still gives Ji Jing Wu a run for his goddamn money… he matches him hit for hit, and at one point he was even WINNING…and had it not been for his arm, I swear up and down that he would’ve beaten Jingwu…

BUT THAT’S NOT EVEN THE BEST PART… i mean, all sports anime and just shounen anime in general have those moments where the characters are down and out and summoning the power of friendship and determination to their side to go above and beyond the physical limitations of their bodies… NO THE ACTUAL BEST PART WAS JI JINGWU’S RESPONSE TO THE WHOLE SITUATION

The goddamn respect he gave Si Yang.. this is his rival, the only person he’s ever viewed as equal and even superior to his own skills (at least as far as people the same age as him go)… Jingwu wants to beat him so bad… and he’s heard the rumours about Si Yang’s injury, and he even sees for himself how bad the injury is… but as a skilled player who recognises skill himself, he does not do Si Yang the disrespect of going easy on him… what kind of arrogant prick has that kind of nerve to give less than their best to someone who is giving them 120% effort… no, Ji Jingwu doesn’t hesitate to hit back full power, even as he’s yelling at Si Yang to stop before his arm is utterly destroyed… because the last thing any person of talent would want, is to see another person lose such an incredible gift… but even worse than that, have that person realise someone was going easy on them... it was so goddamn beautiful… and when Jingwu grips Si Yang’s hand and raises it high because he and everyone there knows who the real winner of that match is…they all know that they just witnessed something incredible, and he wants everyone in the stands to not only acknowledge it… but remember it…

And then he proceeds to fund Si Yang’s surgery, his flight, his meals, his rehabilitation, AS WELL AS take care of his team… and if that isn’t love, idk what is… like they don’t even disguise the hard core DEDICATION AND LOVE... Jingwu has obsessed over Si Yang for a year and it goddamn shows

Honourable Mention: I really enjoyed Zhou Zi versus the demon child whose eyes go red…we finally get to see Zhou Zi stretch his legs and push himself and I LOVED THAT… like he’s actually trying his best and that’s dope… also the match against the captain of the team his little brother his on… he basically led this cocky motherfucker by the nose for 5 games, pretends to be losing, and then destroys him in the following 7…

OH AND I GOTTA SHOUT OUT MY OTHER GLASSES BOI YAN ZHIMING VERSUS HIS BEST GUY FRIEND FROM YOUTH… that was a beautiful evolution of Ah Yan transcending but also evolving his data tennis against his childhood friend and it feels good ya know?

8. Favorite doubles match?

Oh pfft anything with the Rival Pair… they bicker like cat and dog, but then you put them on the court together, and suddenly their chemistry is through the roof… also Baiyang and Qiao Chen are a stronger couple than Qiao Chen and Yu Xing Zi and that’s the damn tea

(Same two posts for why that tea)

9. Favorite story arc?

Oh man… ummm training arc with Yu Feng was fun but it was definitely beaten out by the “village raises a child” arc when Si Yang leaves, so literally all their previous opponents step up to encourage, train, or otherwise intimidate Yu Qing into giving it their all, improving, and ultimately winning the finals… plus this arc gave so much depth to the network of teams who all have the same aspirations, in the end, and want to push forward the people who beat them to not let their loss be in vain…and that’s pure…

10. Most amusing tenipuri scene(s)/moment(s)/running joke(s)?

Yan Juice... especially the first time NEXT

Honourable Mentions: When Lu Xia gets stood up by Xinglong Lu Xia running interference on Qi Ying’s admirer in the final ep When Zhou Bros run into Lu Xia in the dressing rooms Stretcher Bros trying to become Painter Bros

11. What did you like most about the adaptation?

It captured the essence of a good sports anime: power of friendship, ridiculous action sequences of outrageous moves that would never be allowed in real life, determination and guts is all you need to succeed, that all-or-nothing mentality of high schoolers who suddenly have tunnel vision and no future thinking whatsoever, and decide to risk life and limb for one match… plus it kept a charming and comedic beat running throughout, really endeared you to the characters, and their struggles... AND NO ONE WAS MEAN... well I mean Ya Jiuxin was an angry bitter jerk for a hot second, but he ended up being endeared towards the lil fluffball kouhai of his, and we all know he loves Xinglong in his heart of hearts... other characters like Jingwu, or demon child, or Zhou Yu’s captain were cocky or arrogant, but they were never mean to each other, and respected each other’s game play even if they were defeated.. a couple were poor losers, but they didn’t throw a fit or try to get revenge or anything like that... everyone, in general, had some decency to them, and in fact all of Yu Qing was a super nice...sometimes too nice and self-deprecating that you wanted to smack them...

12. What do you think the adaptation could have improved on?

This is mostly just a consequence of live action adaptations of sports anime where they have to condense a whole lot of story that is already condensed from the manga into a palatable show that anyone, not necessarily pre-existing fans of the original source, can enjoy… the story around the characters seemed waffle-y and disjointed… sometimes things would happen but wouldn’t connect smoothly to the next thing that happens… there was this whole implied close relationship between Qi Ying and the team that just was never shown… I would’ve preferred they made her an official manager, so it would make sense that she’d be so close to the team, when for whatever reason, Peng Xiang wasn’t…even tho they’re both cheer captains…

The match sequences were cut down a little too much (tho I get why)… I would have loved that final training arc to be extended, to fully flesh out how discombobulated Yu Qing was when Si Yang had to leave, and how forcefully the other teams picked them up and got them better… so to develop the dynamic between the teams before this would’ve been good, but obviously they can only got the core actors of each team at a time… hence that barbecue scene… but if they’d pulled off something like the Haikyuu!! Tokyo training arc, or even something like in KnB where the teams were thrown together in wacky hijinks or impromptu match situations to develop their camaraderie (and they sorta tried to but nothing really came of the interactions), it would’ve made the final training arc THAT MUCH MORE heartwarming and I would have cried..

13. Any other thoughts you want to share?

I’ve already said enough. The end.

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chaotic-bells · 4 years ago

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Share your natal chart tag game ✨

Rules: go to this website and generate your natal chart if you can (you’ll need a place of birth + time of birth). Report the results for your Sun, Moon and Ascendant, and bold the statements that apply to you

Thanks for the tag Anni @whatagreatproblemtohave 😁 I’ll do under the line thingy too cause this is massive.

The Sun is in Capricorn Capricorn is a feet-on-the-ground, eye-on-the-prize sign. Those with Sun in Capricorn have a realistic, grounded approach to life that can be seen no matter how dreamy the rest of the birth chart suggests. These people know how to do things, and to get things done (this is something people say frequently to me, specially at work, so I’ll go with that). Some Capricorns naturally turn their backs on things they deem too frivolous. They are very much concerned with things that are worthwhile--and that includes their own lives. Capricorns want to do and be something worthwhile. Like their Earth signs relatives, Taurus and Virgo, they need to feel useful and effective in the real world in order to be satisfied with their lives. But the Capricorn spin on the earth signs is that Capricorn possesses a stronger need for recognition in a worldly sense. They have a strong sense of society and its framework, and they feel most secure when they feel they are doing their part within that framework. (geez, way to call me out at the end there) Capricorns like to pare things down, and take pleasure in the simple things in life. However, many are attracted to status symbols and these ones will wear the best clothes (tasteful ones!) and drive quietly impressive cars. Comparing Capricorns to their symbol, the goat, brings up some interesting analogies. Solar Capricorns can see into the future, and plan for it. They don't mind taking things slowly, but they absolutely aim to get to the top of the mountain in life! They make their way steadily and sure-footedly; and their strength and singleness of purpose are admirable. Capricorns can sometimes be rather lonely people, although they rarely let it show. They are often a little reserved--even standoffish. This is generally because they value all things practical, and they'll seldom wear their emotions on their sleeves, unless they have a particularly flamboyant Moon sign. This is a sign that is surely the most resourceful of the zodiac. To some, Capricorns come across as unimaginative, but they can be enormously creative when it comes to the material world (hello my craft loving self). They are generally very capable people with a strong sense of tradition and responsibility. (sometimes too much, but I don’t know if this is a older sibling thing or a capricorn thing) Many Capricorns have mastered the art of making people laugh (don’t know if I mastered, but I love it). Their sense of humor can be of the deadpan variety--they're generally excellent at keeping a straight face. They can be bitingly sarcastic, too. Capricorns are not known for taking too many risks in life. They value the beaten track and things "tried and true". This is not to say they are stick-in-the-muds -- they simply value the hard work laid down by those who've been around before them (....well yeah. why ignore the past if we can use it. doesn’t everyone?). Turn to your Capricorn friends for help when you need to really get things done. They'll have practical advice, and they'll help you organize and manage your life a little better. Capricorns are generally good with their "word", dependable, and rather loyal people. Short description: She is honest, reserved, circumspect, honorable, and strong-willed. Quietly ambitious within the realms of the possible, she likes and takes on responsibility. She can work in the social domain. Possible issues: A sometimes bitter and mistrustful mind.

The Moon is in Gemini Lunar Geminis are usually pleasant, witty, and charming people (hopefully?). At home and with family, however, they can be moody and irritable at times (I just need my alone time, ok?). People with Moon in Gemini are always interesting people--they have a finger in every pie, are curious to a fault, and are generally well-informed. Nervousness and worry are common traits (so now I know who to blame) with this lunar position. An underlying restlessness is common, and many Lunar Geminis need more stimulation than others. They usually read a lot, talk a lot, and think a lot (ok, this is definitely me) with this airy, mutable position of the Moon. Their homes are often a perpetual work-in-progress (😅). They generally dislike housework, but are big on home improvement. Re-organizing their homes in little--and sometimes big--ways seems to keep them happy, as Lunar Geminis are easily bored by both routine and constancy. Often, this is a reflection of their inner world--"the grass is always greener..." applies here. Inwardly, Lunar Geminis are often unsettled (...so that’s why my room changed 150% during lockdown). Moon in Gemini parents are generally more adept at handling the intellectual needs of their children than emotional ones. Others' complicated emotions, in general, can be difficult for Lunar Geminis to handle. In their families, Lunar Geminis often take on the role of organizing get-togethers. They are at their best when they have plenty of things to do beyond routine (usually reading, or crafting, or sewing... gimme something to do). Moon in Gemini people almost always have a way with words. They are clever and witty, and more often than not can be found chatting with others (... so yeah...). They are sociable and friendly, and feel comfortable in crowds (no. definitely don’t). Some pay too much attention to what everyone else is doing, and lose touch with what they really want to do. Generally, Lunar Geminis have a million and one projects going. They are impressionable folk, and their imagination is boundless. Their openness to new ideas is admirable, although decisiveness and persistence take a blow as a result. Still, versatility and adaptability (sounds like what I say in job interviews...) are some of the stronger traits of this position of the Moon. When irritable, they can easily become snappy. Their moodiness is complicated--this is not the same kind of moodiness you'll find with water sign moons, for example. Usually, difficult behavior stems from inner restlessness. Lunar Geminis want to do it all, and have trouble sticking to any one project. When problems arise, the first instinct of Moon in Gemini natives is to talk things out. Their tendency to analyze can give them the appearance of emotional detachment (my mom likes calling me cold. she also said to several friends I was autistic. I’m not). In fact, Lunar Geminis may be especially comfortable talking about their feelings, but feeling their own feelings doesn't come as easily. Those that don't take time out to really emote and understand their own needs may end up baffling others. Feeling misunderstood is common for Moon in Gemini natives. The only real solution to the problem is learning to get in touch with their own feelings (...no thanks). Short description: Sharp intellect. She likes literature, and will adapt to all situations and social groups. Work in contact with the public, literary occupations, travel (I work in a call center with focus in hospitality, and studied Literature in college...lol). Potential issues: Lack of follow-up of ideas, indecision, may go back on decisions. (my capricorn my balance this out. I’m def not an indecisive person, and I finish what I start)

Ascendant is Gemini Those born with Gemini rising see the world as a place to learn. They are curious about the people around them. Sounds similar to Sagittarius rising? Well it is, but there are some important differences. While Sagittarius seeks to expand their mental and physical horizons in a broad sense, Gemini is mostly interested in moving about in their social circles. These are people who love to ask questions, to move around freely, and to mingle. Definitely restless and often quick in physical expression, natives of the Gemini Ascendant exude an air of impatience even if they don't mean it. In fact, there is a cleverness to Gemini Ascendants that can intimidate some, especially sensitive folk. Their facility with words can be a wonderful asset, although sometimes Gemini rising individuals identify too much with their mental agility and forget, in their personal interactions and communications, to nurture the people around them. A certain lack of warmth in presentation can be the result (so I’ve heard), and although this style is generally a facade, it is not immediately apparent to most. People with, for example, predominant Water signs may feel a little ill at ease with Gemini rising people (that is, before they get to know them more personally), while strong Air types more fully appreciate the fun and cleverness of these individuals. I have found two styles of presentation most common with Gemini rising people. One style is bubbly, changeable, talkative, and a little quirky. These natives are interesting and fun. They constantly explain things, whether it's their own behavior and opinion or those of the world around them. Another distinct "style" is a rather cool and intellectual demeanor. These natives are often quite witty and clever, but they present themselves in a less cheerful and changeable way than the first group. Their observations are sharp and the overall manner is a tad brusque (the first is me online or with people that know me well. The second is around people who don’t know me and usually my main ‘reputation’). No matter the style, Gemini rising natives are given to analysis and making sense of their world. Their powers of observation are well-developed, they are mentally active (more often than not, their minds are racing!), and they almost always have something bright or witty to say. It is easy for individuals with this position to get sidetracked, as their curiosity is large, their minds are quick, and their attention spans rather short! As children, natives born with a Gemini Ascendant are often labeled as the intellectual, inquisitive, and perhaps odd child. Many feel their upbringing lacked some warmth. In one-to-one relationships, Gemini rising people often seek a certain amount of personal freedom and space. They enjoy intellectual debates and exchanging ideas. Although they often demand a fair amount of freedom, they are often just as willing to give their partners room to breathe.

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yshai-tia · 5 years ago

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thanks to @house-vexile‘s idea about spreading some appreciation with reckless abandon in honour of the holiday season, here’s my attempt at being obnoxiously sappy towards all the folk who’ve extended their kindness my way, and just in general, since i made this blog some odd few months ago. time to spread some good cheer and all that, leggo.

first section is dedicated to the folk who’ve written with me/are currently writing with me. not to sound like some hot popular bitch but you all reached out to me and right off the bat i’m stupidly grateful for that because it cannot always be easy to just straight up contact a complete stranger like ‘H-HEY WRITE WITH ME MAYBE?!?!’ ya’ll got stones. own that shit.

@ayice-tia of course you gotta be first ‘cause you were the first person to contact me not too long after i threw that messy LFRP post to the winds. i still get a laugh out of the fact that you thought i wouldn’t respond back to you u fewl, now we’ve been writing for months, surprise!! where to start. you’re the first person to sit down and dedicate to long-term writing with me and it’s thanks to you that i’ve been able (and am still currently doing so, let’s be real) to flesh out so much of Shai’s character. like i go back and reread our first posts and i barely even have a grasp on his manner of speech yet let alone most other things. between writing with you and constantly shooting the shit with you on discord he’s been able to rapidly take form into a fully fledged character with a lot more depth than I ever expected-- i’m especially appreciative of all the long talks we’ve had about brainstorming tribal lore, to toss ideas back and forth about our catte’s respective homes and their people has been some of the best manner of character building.

you already know how much I adore Yice, being able to watch him grow into a complex character in his own right has been such a treat, how he grows into his confidence yet never loses his good heart in the process. i love how you are able to so perfectly write a character who’s an absolute ray of sunshine yet has this undeniable simmering fire underneath. when i think of the trope ‘my kindness is not weakness’ Yice comes to mind instantly, and you nail that essence with aplomb. anyway, i hope to continue writing with you for a long time to come!! thank you for reaching out to me and sticking around this entire time. also p.s. never stop sending me photos of your dog

@further-ruin we may not have written all that much together yet (yet™!!!) but it’d be remiss for me not to talk about how lovely your writing is. your attention for detail, especially character-wise, is so good and goes such a length to really add liveliness to a scene. even if the scene is two frozen cattes talking in a cave somewhere in godsforsaken Coerthas, i’m still into it, and the effort you put in really shows because i may not be all too familiar with Izzy just yet but i’m already invested in his mannerisms, his potential, what could be brought forth from behind that carefully maintained icy facade. he already has Shai’s curiosity piqued that’s for damn certain. i can��t wait to see where things go and, in the mean time, enjoy your vacation! man i wish i was on a beach right now.... i bet they do too, if they weather this storm Shai is gonna drag Izzy’s ass to Costa

@hiraethwyl oh Lyrin’a. Lyrin’a is such a cutie. Writing with you is definitely such a nice relaxing reprieve, you’re the first, and still the only, person to approach me with the rp hook of ‘hey build something for my character!’ and that alone made me stupidly happy, for 1) getting to write out a scene that involves Shai’s normal-ass day job, and 2) because someone read enough about his character to realize “oh he could probably do this thing i need.” and, of course, you already saw ICly how ecstatic Shai was at the chance of getting to build Lyrin’a a new brace, he cannot wait to get started. your writing has such a gentle lilt to it, i can easily get lost in reading those stand alone pieces you post on your blog, i love them. i’m eager to see him flourish more as a character, maybe Shai will be able to convince him to show him around the Shroud a bit? share some of his Keeper culture with him? we shall see!

@swordmens you i specifically left for last because i could talk about your writing until the year rolls over and then some. holy shit. where do i even begin? your meticulous care for detail, the way you build a scene, the atmosphere, everything. you just fucking nail it again and again without fail and it leaves me in awe. honestly in the beginning i was so stupidly intimidated, some legit real writer’s fear, like ‘they are so good at this?? oh my god??? i don’t think i can keep up????? does this drivel i send their way even compare??????’ absolute terror. at this point the intimidation is mostly abated (still kinda there little bit ngl) but my adoration of your writing has not, i could never tire of reading everything you put out there. there’s this inherent level of thrill knowing you’re writing with someone that, no matter how exactly you toss up the ball, they will in some way or another spike that shit with intensity. i just. so damn good. please never stop writing. ultimately, in the long-run, the intimidation was a beneficial thing because rising to the challenge of wanting to keep up with your writing went from ‘oh shit i’m scared, every word’s gotta be perfect’ to ‘oh fuck this is a lot of fun actually???’ and i’d like to imagine my own writing has benefited from it, if anything my confidence as a writer absolutely has and i have you to thank for that. as far as collaborative writing goes, i don’t think you can ask for much more than a rp partner that you both genuinely enjoy writing with and actively challenges you. i’m extremely grateful for the chance to write with you.

tl;dr i adore your writing, i adore writing with you, i adore Castor. i’m sorry i didn’t take your initial offer of having them meet in a more laid-back fashion and now they’re both beat forty different shades of shit from sunday while simultaneously trying to row up shit’s creek without a paddle LMAO as sorry as i feel for them it’s been fun every single step of the way

@silvernsteel @eorzeanincubus @nikoto-n @kytir @amahrigold @xavi-ffxiv @twelveswood @confusedtia @miqojak @placesyoucallhome @a-corsairs-chorus @gayhaurchefant @lightdevoid @sola-ffxiv @ishgard @voidwife @sand-seeks-sun @wondereverlasting @ivyffxiv @alphadrg @az-ffxiv @mai-takeda @vylette-elakha @dravaniia @gatheredfates @aife-ffxiv @lordittetsu

ya’ll are no doubt like, oh sweet jesus why is he tagging me, leave me out of this nonsense. tough nuts. your ass is getting tagged for one of the following reasons: we’ve talked about writing together but haven’t quite yet, i’ve noticed how often you reblog my photosets, you say nice things about my stupid cat boy, you tag me in shit, you’re just a general, overall positive presence whomst’ve i adore seeing on my dash, you said one (1) nice thing to me last month and i still haven’t forgotten it, you deserve to be called out for being great, etc etc. appreciate yourselves, ‘cause i appreciate ya’ll. also write with me sometime :dagger:

#;ooc #had a few glasses of riesling and slapped on a holiday playlist while writing this #to REALLY get into the spirit lmao #so if i went overboard y'know #i ain't sorry #you'll learn to cope #oh sick this is my 200th post nice

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selfproducingfanfictionauthor · 4 years ago

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Lessons to Build - i: you can’t outrun what’s in you

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader / (member to be decided) x reader

Warnings: Y/N’s back in Seoul. Her father’s sick, and we see Yoongi for the first time. Lots of things Y/N doesn’t know and Yoongi doesn’t know. So... future miscomm? Notes: Short chapters for quicker updates is my jam. Taehyung’s being so extra, writing himself into this story. I can’t believe--- should he be our other member? Do you think he’s in love with Y/N? Word Count: 1.6k Prologue Lesson #1 Lesson #2

Home.

“What do you mean you’re flying to Seoul? Now??”

Isn’t it funny how things change in less than 24 hours? In a blink of an eye? Taehyung’s voice is shrill in the background as you toss clothes upon clothes over your shoulder, hopping they’d get at least near the perimeter of your open suitcase.