#were the writers told something and had to shove everything in at once to achieve at least _some sense of resolution if the show got canned

[bewareofdragon]

I wonder if HBO told the OFMD writers halfway through the season that the show might not get renewed for a third season or something similar. Because man it feels like they shoved at least a season and half's worth of plot points into this truncated season.

[imalemonthatrants]

Struggling with writer's block, but here's a Lawzo I wrote with a random prompt generator in an attempt to break my writer's block.

Prompt: The Professor (Write about a situation where person A is being taught something by person B in an interesting way)

I just want to note that this is no way a realistic or advisable way to help others sleep. Made purely because I'm a mess at the current moment.

Law was a doctor, so of course he knew that proper rest was important for optimal performance. He also knew the suggestions to achieve a better night's sleep. And from experience, not as a doctor, he knew that sometimes, there was not a single thing he could do to be able to rest for even a single second.

He had tried all the non-medicated ways there were. Don't read anything an hour before bed. Leave bed usage for sleeping only. Drink a glass of warm milk an hour before bed. If unable to sleep, get up and walk a bit before resting once more. Count sheep. Sleep in pure darkness. And as told by someone deeply important to him, sleep in pure silence.

None of it worked. Everything he did left him alone to his thoughts. Let the fear and the worries and the planning consume his mind, racing with the what-ifs and the counteractions to deal with potential, terrible ends. Because as a person who inherited the name of D, tragedy always seemed to follow him.

It doesn't help that the trip to Wano was longer than Law had wanted, along with several extra passengers that made the Polar Tang much more tighter than it needed to be. They needed to surface to replenish for air more often, meaning they were more likely to be spotted by marines and that they were traveling slower than Law would like. Much slower.

The lack of sleep was extremely evident to both his crewmates and his guests by the third day. If the horrifying sight of his dark, heavy circles under his eyes weren't enough to let them know, the way he snapped at anyone who so much as breathed in his presence would probably do the trick. By the fourth day, not a single person tried to stay within the same room as him. Law figured that would be the case for the entirety of the trip or until he could bring himself to rest for even just 20 minutes.

Until a certain, pesky guest that was much too similar to his captain came wandering into his private room. During night hours. Roronoa Zoro, potential vice captain and first mate of the Strawhat crew, had the fucking audacity to walk into his private quarters, slamming open the metal door and stomping in like he owned the fucking place.

"What the fuck?" Law hissed. It was rougher than he expected of himself, his voice heavy with obvious exhaustion between the anger.

"Hey Torao." Zoro said.

As Law had long adjusted to the darkness of his room, he watched the intruder fumble into his room, tripping over piles of books and stomping over sheets of plans he had written up and hadn't had the time to organize or hang up. The younger swordsman stopped what seemed like mere inches away from his bed.

"Do you know what fucking time it is?" Law snapped.

He watched Zoro shrug before the man reached out, hands searching and latching onto the edges of his small, but comfortable mattress.

"Dunno," Zoro answered, "But it's not like you'd be sleeping anyways."

The hands traced the edges of the bed, fingers skimming past him from where he rested on the other corner of the bed. Law opened his mouth to deny the man's accusations, to lie and say he indeed was sleeping until he so rudely entered. And then Zoro started climbing onto his bed.

"What the hell are you doing?" Law snarled, arms flying up to shove the man. Zoro, infuriatingly enough, doesn't even budge. Instead, the younger swordsman easily leaned into his hands, using them as a guide to crawl into his bed and smash him between him and the cold, metal wall.

Zoro snorted, "I'm going to sleep."

He was frozen for a moment, because the absolute certainty in the idiot's voice had him stunned. It was only when Zoro's hands moved from his wrists to slowly encasing around him did Law finally snap, drawing the powers of his devil fruit to shambles this arrogant bastard away. The bubble popped away from existence before it could even encase the man as a wave of dizziness hit him, twisting reality and forcing him to shut his eyes to prevent himself from suddenly throwing up.

Not that he would do anything but dry heave. He hadn't eaten anything since yesterday morning.

It took a moment for the spinning to stop, and when reality became grounded once more, he was panting heavily, fingers tightly clasped into the coat of his unwelcomed bedmate. At some point, Zoro had shifted himself to wrap his arms around him, their legs intertwined. His own arm, the one that had recovered from being cut off, was awkwardly pinned between their bodies.

"You back?" Zoro hummed.

"Get the fuck out." Law said, pushing at the unmoving boulder.

"Nah, it's pretty comfortable here." Zoro said. "Dark and quiet."

Law squeezed his eyes tightly, shoving with what little energy he had. His efforts were in vain, as Zoro cheekily pressed himself closer.

"Why are you doing this?" Law asked, frustration seeping into his voice.

"Helping you sleep."

Law wanted to laugh at the absurdity.

"Oh yeah?" Law sneered. "And how are you doing that?"

"Giving you a sleeping buddy." Zoro said. The patience in the man's voice infuriated him enough for him to get enough energy to shove at the man again.

"A sleeping buddy is not a practical solution for aiding someone's sleep." Law said.

"You've tried it?" Zoro asked.

"Yes." And then he snapped his jaw shut as the feeling of humiliation flooded his senses. Because knowing that this bastard knew of his stupid, inability to do something as simple as sleep and the fact that he had tried every method he had come across and still fail at something so simple was downright an embarrassment.

"Okay then." Zoro said, not budging at all. "What's keeping you up?"

"You." Law said outright.

Zoro snorted, "Okay. What else?"

Law frowned, silent for a moment. Zoro doesn't say anything else.

"Nothing. I just can't sleep." Law said eventually. He expected Zoro to had fallen asleep by then, as the man simply fell asleep whenever he wanted, wherever he wanted.

"Are you thinking?" Zoro asked, startling him.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Then don't." Zoro said, as if it were that simple.

"I can't just turn off my brain." Law growled.

"Yes, you can." Zoro said, assuredly.

"No, I can't."

"Yes, you can."

"That's not how the human body works!" Law snapped.

Zoro chuckled, irritating him even more, "Not like that."

"What the hell do you mean?" Law growled.

"Clear your thoughts. Meditate a bit." Zoro said.

"That doesn't work." Law snapped.

"Just do it."

Law was tempted to grumble, but let his eyes close, trying to focus on nothing.

"Not like that." Zoro said instantly. "Focus on your breathing. Three seconds in, six seconds out."

Breathe in.

1, 2, 3.

Breathe out.

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6.

Law does it again.

Breathe in, 1, 2, 3.

Breathe out, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6

One more week until they arrive in Wano.

Breathe in. 1, 2, 3.

7 days.

Breathe out.

Might be longer because they'll need to surface for oxygen.

1, 2, 3.

The strawhats were going through their supplies as much as his crew of twenty was, so they'll have to find a safe and discreet island to stop at.

4, 5, 6.

Luffy wasn't even with them.

1, 2.

The idiot captain was going to provoke the other yonko into coming as well.

1, 2.

Or perhaps Luffy's miracle power was used up and he won't-

"You're not focusing." Zoro said, pulling him from his thoughts.

"I was." Law said, desperately. "I am."

He was focusing on what was important. On what everyone else wasn't bothering to think about. Because he was surrounded by a bunch of carefree idiots that are taking the luck a little too seriously simply because their captain had a couple of miracles happen.

"It'll be fine." Zoro said, calmly. As if he knew what was going through Law's head. It made him want to open up a room and slice this bastard apart.

"And how do you know that?" Law snapped. "Your captain fucked off to mess with another Yonko! We've already got one Yonko to deal with. He's going to die before we can deal with our first one!"

"He won't." Zoro said, assuredly.

"You don't know that!"

"I do." Zoro said, with such certainty that Law wanted to tear this man apart. "And you've seen it. His miracles. Luffy will come to Wano."

"Those miracles did him so well at Marineford." Law snapped. And then shut up because he wasn't supposed to go there and he was currently weakened with lack of sleep and recovering from his failed revenge against that bastard and Zoro had him in his arms and could so easily tear apart.

But Zoro doesn't do anything like that.

"That was different." Zoro said, his voice a whisper.

Law should drop the subject. Should let the place fall into silence and ignore the man. Let the man sleep here for the night and let himself fail to get any sort of rest as atonement for his shitty attitude at that moment. But he doesn't. Because even then, Zoro sounded so confident through the pain.

And so he asked, "How?"

"Because Luffy has our crew." Zoro said. "Even with half, Luffy will make it out."

Law was silent.

"And with all of us at Wano, we'll win." Zoro continued.

"How are you so sure?" Law asked quietly, when Zoro doesn't continue any further.

"What good would it be to not be?" Zoro asked in return. "If I can't trust my captain and my crewmates, how can I stand to stay?" When Zoro noticed that he didn't continue, he added, "Breathe."

Breathe in.

1, 2, 3.

"Right now, we're a week or two away from Wano." Zoro murmured.

Breathe out.

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6.

"The only thing we can prepare is ourselves."

Breathe in.

1, 2, 3.

"And the only way we can prepare right now is to breathe."

Breathe in.

1, 2, 3.

Breathe out.

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6

Breathe in.

As much as he hated admit it, Zoro was right.

1, 2, 3.

Breathe out.

All the plans for all the potential scenarios would go to waste if none of them happened.

…4, 5, 6.

A waste of his energy.

In. 1, 2, 3.

His time.

Out… 4, 5, 6.

A waste of his breath.

Breathe in. 1, 2, 3.

"Zoro-ya…" Law called out. Exhaustion was heavy, but the throes of sleep were beginning to drag him under.

A snore answered him.

Breathe out… 4, 5, 6.

"Good night."

And finally, finally, with the slow, steady heartbeat that pulsed underneath his fingertips, the rhythmic sounds of Zoro's breathing occasionally broken by a snore, and the mildly stifling, uncomfortable heat that radiated off the other man, Law fell asleep.

Corazon was wrong about one thing. Silence didn't always help with sleep. Sometimes, the sound of a reliable person by your side was much more helpful.

End

So what's the writer's block fix for when you do have tons of ideas you wanna bring to life, but the moment you do, it comes out as shit and not the way you envision it, so you're left scrapping and redesigning your work over and over again, but nothing is right and you wanna cry because you just wanna write what you see, but you can't?

I'm in utter agony right now.

And by the way, yes I know that's not how reality works with anxiety and sleep. I too am an anxious, sleepless mess most days than not.

And yes, this drabble came out completely different from what I wanted (making it a subpar write for me). There were so many things I wanted to add that made the thing not flow right and it ended like this. My structured fics cannot survive because I can't get the things I want to happen without proper structural flow. Help. Ugh. End rant.

[livefordrama]

Reviewing Dramas I Have Watched Part 8

Again, here is my rating system:  1- Did not like, 2- Enjoyed but probably wouldn’t watch again, 3- Enjoyed and would watch some episodes again/may watch again, 4- Enjoyed and would watch again, 5- Loved 

Korean Drama

My Strange Hero: 4

Trigger Warning: Suicide, Bullying, Verbal and Emotional Abuse

My Strange Hero is about a man named Bok-su (which stands for revenge), who was falsely accused by his friend and girl friend of shoving his friend off the school roof and expelled from high school. Now nine years later, he gets the opportunity to return to school but he isn’t just going to go back nicely, seeing the seemingly cozy lives those who betrayed him are living he decides to enact his revenge by proving how corrupt the high school and the people working in it are. However, his plans for revenge get more difficult to achieve when he begins to fall for his ex-girlfriend once again. 

This show was cute and interesting, it made me mad and lot and Yoo Seung-ho never disappoints. I ended up watching it in less than a week with studying and all so it draws you in really fast. I absolutely loved the realistic factor of not having to forgive everyone for a good ending and to move on. Many shows, kdrama or otherwise, make characters forgive even those who did horrible things to them just for a good ending, and it’s not always that simple nor do you owe those who did horrible things to you an apology to be a good person and move on looking at you Missing Nine. However my main complaint with it is that the ending isn’t as impactful or satisfying as the ending three episodes previous. I’m glad they had the three ending episodes because the other characters got more closure, I just wish they would have made it as impactful as the ending of episode 29. It is about thirty minutes an episode so it’s a really fun and interesting watch if you need something on the shorter side. I highly recommend!

Love Alarm (Season 1): 3 

Trigger Warning: Bullying, Suicide, PTSD, Anxiety, Panic Attacks, Abuse 

Love Alarm deals with the concept of having an app that can read your emotions and alerts your phone when you are in 10 meters of someone who loves you or alerts your crushes phone if they are within the 10 meters. It follows Jojo, a girl with a mysterious and sad past, who can’t download Love Alarm because of her phone. She is in an unhappy relationship and begins to have feelings for the new student. After being kind to a student, he gives her the phone and she can finally download it only to find that love is a lot more complicated than she originally expected. 

Okay, I started this show because the new season was coming out and everyone was freaking out about it. I had been avoiding it all this time because I love Song Kang and have been following his work since his smaller roles, hoping he would get bigger roles. I was so excited when I first heard he would be the main here but couldn’t ever bring myself to watch it cause I don’t like romance love triangles and already knew he was playing the webtoon second lead which made it worse. Plus I have a trauma with anything that has Kim So-Hyun in it. I adore her acting, she is so good, too good. She just always plays in really sad, dark Kdramas and I always like the second leads in her shows so I just get sad and angry when I watch her shows. I at the time just didn’t feel like dealing with being annoyed and finally got in the mood to watch a cheesy love triangle romance. *spoiler alert* I can confidentially say that while no character and no ship is necessarily healthy, I do prefer Sun-ho to Hye-yeong. No, not because he is played by Song Kang, in the first few episodes I hated his character. I wanted to punch him so badly, but with all his immature flaws he did do some mature things. He told Hye-yeong to not fight over Jojo and to let her pick which I loved because, shows like to have the two people fight amongst themselves who gets the crush and that’s so stupid to me, Jojo is a person with feelings too and she might not like either so I loved that he said that. I also loved that instead of telling Hye-yeong not to pursue Jojo because he still loved her, he told Jojo to stay away from Hye-yeong so that he wouldn’t be hurt by her like Sun-ho was. He still loved her but his friend came first, and I felt horrible when he lost almost everyone who genuinely loved him. Hye-yeong is okay, but he isn’t even a healthier option, he literally stalks her all the time without her even knowing about it, he memorized her daily routine, where he’s going to college so he could move there to be around her, it’s just too creepy to me. Yes, Sun-oh stalked her too and that is not okay at all, but he made his presence known so that she can voice if she was uncomfortable or knew to call someone if she felt threatened, Hye-yeong sneaks around and doesn’t even talk to her and that’s super creepy to me. I just think they are both immature and personally with some growth I think Sun-oh is more fitting than Hye-yeong cause the two really do seem like they are in love with each other while Jojo and Hye-yeong seem like a crush that will turn out to be more platonic. I know it’s wishful thinking but that’s just my hopes. *spoiler over* I did really love this show actually, sometimes you just need a trashy dramatic romance. Yes, it had toxic behaviors but I still liked it, it felt like a realistic teenage couple in high school (minus Mr. Stalkery Stalks.) I think that not everything has to be analyzed, I enjoyed the cute romantic scenes at face value, even though I knew they weren’t healthy. If it happened to me in real life, I would have punched a bitch but it’s fun to watch on a screen. 

Blood: 2

Trigger Warnings: Blood, Suicide, Terminal illness, Murder, Abuse. 

Blood is about a surgeon who is also a vampire. He tries to control his vampire self and help humans while working on a way to make himself human. When he transfers to a new hospital things take a turn for the weird as the patients of the new ward start exhibiting symptoms he is all too familiar with. 

Blood was really good for the first two thirds of the series. I watched it before I found out about the main couples real life situation but continued to enjoy it because it’s none of my business what they do in their personal lives (so please don’t message or leave comments about that situation or your opinions on it.) Both couples were super cute and there were some plot twists that admittedly got me. I liked the story line and the idea that vampires were viruses that doctors were researching in secret. I really got hooked for most of the story; however, the last few episodes felt almost like they switched writers and the new writer had never watched the previous episodes. Comments were made that never were brought up again, like the thirty minutes of vaguely discussing his parents and who he was as an infectee that was never even slightly brushed upon for the rest of the episodes let alone resolved. Not to mention that last episode was a total mess and the ending sucked. The last two episodes are not canon in my mind that’s how weirdly out of place for the show they felt, it was like a 180. The ending was so confusing and I just really hated how it all played out. Because of this, I give the show a 2 cause I did enjoy it a lot but I won’t watch it again. Once of that was enough. 

Legend Hero: 4

Legend Hero, also known as Legend Hero Samgugjeon or Legends Heroes the Three Kingdoms, is about people who compete in a dream battle to acquire their ultimate dream. The main character acquired three spirit helpers which help him in combat by transforming him into an armored knight with special power, and later befriends angels who help him in the battles by boosting this power. He has to fight friend and foe alike to achieve his ultimate dream but that begs the question, is a dream really worth it?

I really enjoyed this show, it was admittedly difficult to get into at first but once I did, I was hooked. The characters were so cute and endearing, the plot had humor, angst, and fluff alike. The acting was a little silly at points but it was made for kids so it’s a little overdramatic. It was all around a very entertaining watch, I watched the whole series while on vacation during the resting hours when my family and I were lazing around the hotel and it was such a refreshing, happy, lazy watch. I highly recommend for those who enjoy a happy watch when they just wish to relax.

Web-Drama/Mini-Series

Power Rangers Dino Force Brave: 4

Power Rangers Dino Force Brave, while technically a sequel to the super sentai series, is a original stand alone production and sSouth Korean take on the power rangers series. While the power rangers finally enjoy the peace that had come to the earth, a new threat is brewing. The Neo-Deboth Army has arrived looking for the power of the dinosaur king, the power ranger once more have to come together to defeat this threat.

This show was super interesting and cute. I have never seen any of the power ranger series so I am entirely inexperienced when it comes to their world. However, I can confidentially say this is a good stand alone as I was not confused while watching it. The first episode got recommended to me on youtube and since I was bored and unsure of what to do, I decided to watch it. I believe I finished the whole series in only a few days. It was super cute and I liked how ironic and silly the ending was with all the characters, including the evil ones dancing together. I’m sure die hard power rangers fans hated that but as someone who knows nothing about the series, I found it quite hilarious. The plot itself was entertaining and cool, it had some angst moments and some cute moments. I loved the ending, but that’s all I will say about that. 

Founder of Diabolism Q: 3

Founder of Diabolism Q is simply snippets of cute or funny scenes from the book that didn’t make it into the series or at least not in as much detail. It follows many characters in small, five minute long episodes and the shenanigans they get in to. 

Founder of Diabolism Q was super cute! I have watched The Untamed and read some of the book but haven’t watch the actual anime yet. Still, I decided to watch this short series. I watched each episode as it came out and loved every one. There isn’t much to say on it though, other than it was super cute and if you love The Untamed or its adaptions, I highly recommend. Just make sure you watch or read one of the full adaptions first otherwise you will be very confused. 

Imaginary Cat: 4

Trigger Warning: Depression, Suicide, Vomit, Illness, Death

Imaginary Cat is about an aspiring webtoon artist who, after loosing his crush and falling into a depression, finds a cat in an alley and takes her in. He is able to recover from the loss and get back into writing when he meets a girl who is obsessed with cats especially after she lost her kitten as a child. He is just trying to get his webtoon accepted and she just wants to get close to him and his cat. 

This was such a cute little easy watch, but was really sad at some points throughout the series. I teared up through some scenes and laughed so hard through others. I also related a lot to how the main plays with his cat, especially when said cat wants none of it. It was a really nice mini-drama to watch in the very little time I had between studying and moving house. I thoroughly enjoyed it and would highly recommend to those who want a easy watch that’s a little sad and very cute. 

Korean Movies

The Magician: 4

Trigger Warning: Blood, Abuse, Drugs, Suicide Attempt, Murder, Death

The Magician is set in the Joseon Era and follows the famous magician, Hwan-hee. He along with his blind friend Bo-eum ran away from their abusive caretaker as children and are still worrying about being found by him even to this day as they perform to keep their livelihoods. Meanwhile a noble lady who was sold to the Qing dynasty comes to town. The two end up running into each other and quickly fall in love, however they both have to overcome the obstacles in their way in order to be together. 

I loved this movie, I had to pause a few times just to process how much I personally enjoyed it. I wish I was able to watch it in a better quality because I never once saw how his one eye was blue, I just took their word and the movie poster for it. Unfortunately, it was the only place I could find to watch so I took what I could. The only reason I am giving it a four instead of a five is the ending sucked. I hated the ending. It just felt unnecessary and honestly really pissed me off. I don’t always need a happy ending but I also didn’t need that kind of ending either. I would still recommend it to those who like angst with some romance and a open-ish ending. 

Seondal The Man Who Sells the River: 5

Trigger Warnings: Blood, Death, Vomit, Gore

Seondal is supposedly a comedy about a group of swindlers who become fast family after escaping from a war they were drafted in. They work together to swindle their way into riches and out of dangerous situations. They gained a huge name in the Joseon dynasty for even swindling the king. However, after tragedy strikes, they decide to do their greatest job yet, sell a river of fake gold. 

The movie was really good, both funny and heartbreaking. My friend and I watched it together thinking it would be a nice comedy after we watched some sad kdrama earlier that week however, it was most certainly not. We both ended up crying and raging. So just be warned it claims to be a comedy and it is hilarious for the first half of the movie, however it quickly turns dark so fast you are just sitting their in shock wondering what happened. I thought Xiumin’s acting was great and his character was adorable. I had not seen his acting before and he easily became a favorite. The movie’s plot and writing kept you engaged and entertained throughout and the ending was great in my opinion. Overall it was a really good watch, I have seen it twice now and thoroughly enjoyed it. I highly recommend to those who enjoy both comedy and angst.

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[justreadingfics]

Looking For a Heartbeat (12/?)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Reader

Series Summary: You and Bucky used to be in a relationship. Feelings were hurt, you left. It’s been two years and you’re back. You both will handle the reunion well, won’t you?

Chapter Summary:  Steve has a party.

Word Count: 8.7k

Warnings for this chapter: angst, pregnancy stuff, jealousy, self-deprecatory feelings.

 A/N: I can’t thank enough for your huge ass patience towards this slow as fuck writer! I’m really sorry, guys, and thank you for those who stuck around despite the long wait. Please let me know what you think of this chapter. @nedthegay and @suz-123 (my angel) helped me with this one. Links are ruining posts, you can find the masterlist link on my description.

You clutch tightly the little paper with the address Heloise gave you, before shoving it inside your purse. You grab the strap hung on your shoulder, counting down the floors numbers as the elevator descends to the garage.

A goddamn support group.

Life truly is a little box of surprises, you realize for the millionth time lately. If you’re going to be honest, you’ve never taken these groups as something you would willingly join, or even take seriously. But then again, you’ve never seen yourself as a single mother. Or a mother at all. Yet, here you are.

You’re still deep in thought about your unexpected fate when the elevator dings and the door opens. You begin to step outside, but before you can go any further you bump into a broad structure.

“Whoa,” Steve grabs your shoulders, steading you, “Hey there, stranger,” He grins down at you.

Your nose scrunches up. When the hell has Steve started wearing cologne? Oh, yeah, since forever. But you weren’t so damn pregnant to be bothered by it before, “Hey, Steve.” You gulp down the nausea, pressing your lips tightly at him.

He steps to the side and smoothly blocks your passage when you tried to walk past him.  “Where’ve you been, it feels like forever since we last talked?” He asks, fumbling with the keys of his bike.

“Ahm, I’ve been… around.”  You hold your breath so that Steve’s cologne doesn’t keep messing with your stomach too much.

“Hm,” he narrows his eyes.

You shift on your feet. The heavy weight of Steve’s suspicious stare lodges on your shoulders, “I’ve been working on myself, Steve. Just like we’ve both agreed.”  His eyes soften when you speak, “Besides you’re the one who has just gotten back from a long mission. How was that, by the way?” You divert the subject, but you know you have to get out of there as soon as you can. If that woody scent hits your nostrils one more time, Steve’s white shirt would be ruined.  And you’ll have a lot to explain.

“It was a nightmare,” he grunts and shakes his head, “If you were there things would’ve been very different.” He smirks.

“I guess you’ll have to wait a little while,” you chuckle, wondering for a second when will you be able to be on a mission again, giving your interesting condition. The woody scent twists your stomach once again and you grimace, “ Ugh… ahm, good to see you, Steve, see ya around,”   You move to walk past him again, still working on not throwing up on him and hoping he thinks nothing of your hurry.

“Are you feeling ok, Y/N?” Steve cocks his head and steps to the side again, blocking your passage “Where are you going? It’s almost dinner time…” He studies you carefully,

“I am… ahm,” Fuck why the hell is it so hard to lie to Steve? “I’m good.” One lie. “I-I’m going to this group thing my therapist recommended.” Not a lie.  

“Oh…ok…” He seems lost for a while, “Oh, hey, do you want me to give you a ride?” He wiggles his eyebrows, “We can catch up on the way.”

Now you’re the one frowning at him. Why the hell is he being so insistent on hanging out with you?

“I’m ok, Steve, thanks. We’ll catch up later. I have to go now.” You talk fast and swiftly dodge him when he once again tries to keep you in place.  

“Alright then, but, hey,” he talks from behind you as you rush to your car, gladly freeing yourself from the cloying scent and Steve’s interrogation, “My birthday is coming.” The reminder makes you stop on your tracks, “You know how Tony is... I’ll see you there, right?”

Oh, yes. Steve’s birthday… You had forgotten all about that. Giving it’s 4th of July, Tony always makes sure to throw a huge party, with fireworks and everything. Steve hated it. That prompted the whole team to always make sure to be there for him.

“I don’t know, Steve…” You look back at him and shrug, ready to turn down the invitation.

His face falls at your answer, “Ah, come on. You have to.”

You have absolutely no doubt Bucky will be there, too. No matter how many rules he invents about staying away, Steve needing him will always be a priority. He will be there. But, to be real, you don’t need the smell of Steve’s cologne to make yourself sick now. You could say no and just leave, but then again, you really don’t wanna hurt Steve and it would mean more questions…

“Yeah, sure. I’ll be there.” You briskly answer with two thumbs up before sprinting to your car.

As you speed up and the garage doors open for you to come out to the streets, Steve stays in his place. Watching you. He grabs his phone from his pocket…

“Hey, Buck.” He greets after his friend answers the call in a heartbeat, “Yeah… Something is definitely up.”

~~~

When you become aware of your bouncing leg, you place a hand over your thigh to stop it. People are still settling down and accommodating themselves on the chairs forming a circle in the ample, illuminated room. They are chatting and talking friendly to one another as they sit down, seemingly unbothered by the presence of a new participant. Amara, the facilitator, and one of the nicest women you’ve ever met, has welcomed you already and told you be comfortable.

You decide to sit and wait, instead of socializing. She seemed to know who you were already and it’s something you hadn’t realized earlier. You’re an Avenger. Whether you like it or not, the Avengers are quite a famous group nowadays and it wouldn’t be a surprise that people would know who you were. Amara seemed to notice the concern seeping into your face and explained the group had a strict ethical code, including a secrecy policy. It eased down your worries momentarily, but if you wanted this pregnancy to be a secret for now, maybe joining the group hasn’t been the smartest choice.

“Ok, everyone,” Amara firm, but sweet voice resounds around the room and the chattering noise ceases down, “Let’s get started. Tonight, as you all can see, we have a new member on our group. Do you wanna introduce yourself, dear?”

A warmth creeps up your neck as all eyes turn to you and a few smiles pop up. You’ve never minded attention, but tonight, for some reason, it makes you wanna shrink down to the point of invisibility.

“Hi,” you say, waving quickly, before trapping your hands between your crossed thighs. “My name is Y/N Y/L/N...” You choke and can’t say much else and you don’t even have to reach out for Amara before she saves you.

“Welcome, Y/N. We’re really glad to have you here. Now, Meg, you asked before we started to share something with the group…”

The attention changes from you to this woman Meg, who tells the group she has done her third insemination procedure, which would be the fourth child she would have solo. It is a mixed up group. There are women of different ages, some of them pregnant and there were guys there, too. As you hear the different stories, troubles, achievements, and see how the members of   the group truly support one another, you feel more confident and willing to share.

“Anyone else?” Amara asks, when George finished telling about the first week he spent alone with his little girl after he and his ex-wife decided to share custody.

“Ahm, yeah,” you raise your hand timidly and all attention is yours again.  

Amara nods for you to continue.

You join your fingers over your thighs, “I’m twelve weeks into my first pregnancy.” You smile when you hear words of felicitations. “I’m not gonna lie. I didn’t plan this… But as unexpected as it was, and as new as it is for me, I simply can’t imagine myself without my baby anymore.” You take a look around and watch the nods and smiles, agreeing and encouraging you to go on.

“The father, well, he’s not around. He doesn’t know yet, it’s… it’s complicated.”

“That’s ok, dear.” Amara says, signalizing you don’t need  to explain it further, “I told Y/N about our secrecy policy.”  She addresses to the rest of the group.

“Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with us.” One of the guys adds.

“Thank you.” You say, “My therapist recommended this group after I attacked her with a rush of doubts and worries… I mean, as happy as I am, this is so new to me. I have so many fears and I’m not sure I’d be able to handle this alone. I hope and, I guess, now I know you guys will be able help me with that. I mean, Meg, you’re my idol. You have four now? How can you do it? It’s amazing.” You point out. “So yeah, that’s it. I’m happy I’m here.”

A loud thud coming from the doors grabs yours and everyone’s attention as startled faces turn towards the sound. There you see an alarmed guy making his way inside the room, but stopping on his way as he meets the wide eyed eyes stares from the group.

“Oh, shit,” He mumbles to himself before looking up at the group again, “Hi, everyone,” he waves shortly, as he cautiously walks towards the circle. His disheveled short hair and ragged breath showing he’s been in a hurry,   “I’m really sorry.” The blush on his cheeks becomes evident when he’s closer and takes a seat, “My sitter was late again…” he explains, “That teenage little devil”. He mutters through his teeth, before cringing at Amara.

“Hello, Harry,” Amara greets him,  “We’re glad you could make it anyway. We were just listening to Y/N, our new participant.” She raises a brow and nods towards you. The way she doesn’t chastise him for being late is an example of the comforting vibe you’ve been getting from the group. No judgments, just understanding and acceptance. After all, if it’s a support group for single parents, everyone supposedly knows the struggle.  

When Harry spots you he cringes again and mouths an apology to you. His clumsy disconcertion makes you chuckle.

“It’s ok.” You shake your head dismissively to Amara, “I guess I’m good for tonight.”

She then passes the word to Harry, who seems relieved to be able to talk. He engages into a nonstop rambling about the “teenage devil” and her propensity for shows like Riverdale, if only she put as much effort into school and responsibilities as she did knowing the backstory of each and every character…Maybe he wouldn’t be also coaching her through her algebra homework. A perpetual shade of red darkens his neck, as an evidence of how much he needs to talk, but the attention seems nothing but unsettling for him. As he does talk, you learn he’s a father of a couple of three year old twins, a girl named Luna and a boy named Jon, who’ve been watching Peppa Pig in a loop and refusing to eat vegetables without a dessert bargain.

He talks fast and uses his hands a lot. He’s wearing a Darth Vader white t-shirt over some black, washed jeans. You’re sure you can see what it seems like a chocolate stamp on his t-shirt –probably in result of one of those dessert bargains.  He’s not particularly built, but by his physique you assume he finds time to go to the gym or something. You can’t say the same about shaving, giving the light, messy scruff growing on his jaw. He is unkempt, his brown hair is short and fluffy, like a puppy who, after a whirlwind day of excitement  couldn’t be bothered with something as inane as grooming.

You can’t stop the small smile on your face.  

When he’s finally done, Amara calls for a coffee break, which is more than welcome since you realize you’re actually starving. Unashamedly, and relying on the pregnancy excuse, you bolt to the table and help yourself with the most appealing cinnamon buns you’ve ever seen. You grab two for good measure and walk away from the table.  

“Hey.”

Chewing, you lick the sugar from your lips and turn around to see Harry, with the same apologetic expression he held when he got in late, holding a cup of coffee.

“Hi,” you answer after swallowing down.

“I’m really sorry I interrupted you when I busted in.” He says, scratching the back of his neck, “I didn’t mean to make so much noise and take the attention out of your moment to share. I’m really sorry.”

“Oh, no.” You wave your hand in dismissal. “It’s ok. I was done talking, anyway. Don’t worry.”

He lets out a relieved sigh, “Can we start over?”

“Of course, my name is Y/N Y/L/N.” You extend a hand and offer him a smile.

“Very nice to meet you, Y/N, I’m Harrison Graham-Ford.” He accepts your handshake, “But you can call me Harry,” he swiftly adds, letting go of your hand.

“Wait..." You squint and dip your chin, "As in... Harrison Ford?" You bite your lip, holding back a laugh.

“Yeah, I know,” he grimaces, “My mom thinks she’s funny, but she’s just a Star Wars nerd.” He shakes his head.

You lift an eyebrow at the same time your eyes drop to his Darth Vader t-shirt, already feeling the laugh bubbling up your chest and curling up your lips.

His eyes follow yours, before sighing and looking up at you, “Guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.” He shrugs and it makes you laugh, which he follows with a shy smile.

“It’s cute,” you say, before taking another bite of the pastry in your hand.

A shade of red flushes up from his neck to his face at your comment as the shy smile is stuck on his lips. You can’t help but find it adorable. You feel your chest lighten with the small exchange with him so far, lighter than it has been for a while.

“How many do you have?” He asks, after taking a sip from his coffee.

It takes you a moment to understand what he’s referring to, “Oh, just one. Right here, actually.” You point to your belly.

His eyes light up, “Yay, congratulations!” Harry raises a hand and you grin, corresponding to the high-five, “Welcome to hell.”

“What?” you yelp.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” He giggles, “Well, sort of. It is hell, but a hell I wouldn’t trade for nothing in this world.”

You chuckle, bringing the last piece of your cinnamon bun to your lips.   There’s a deep fondness in the way he speaks that you’re only beginning to understand.  You wonder what circumstances could have turned him into a single father of twins, but you decide to keep it to yourself, not wanting to be invasive.  

“So, what do you do for a living, Harrison Ford, besides chasing after ancient relics, of course?” you smirk.

He grunts playfully at you, before answering, “I’m a computer engineer. Yeah, I know, don’t hold back your excitement,” he jokes, “What about you?”

You bite your cheek, taking your time to think of an answer, what’s the right thing to say here? Should you straight up say you’re an Avenger?  “I, ahm, work at a security organization. But I’m on a break now.”

“Oh, security, really? National?”

“Ahm, universal would be a more appropriate term.” You answer, matter-of-factly.

“Ha, you’re an Avenger, then.” He laughs, obviously thinking you’re joking, but when he catches your tighten lips, he squints his eyes, which widen when realization downs. “Y/N Y/L/N! You are an Avenger.” His voice comes out in a squeaking tone.

“Yeah,” You sigh, “That I am.”

“Oh my God. I’m so stupid,” He smacks his own forehead, making a face, “I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you at first, but of course I didn’t, when would I imagine to find an avenger here. An avenger…” His arms rise in disbelief and he almost spills his coffee in you, “Wait.” He goes quiet for a moment, as if there are dots connecting inside his brain, before his jaw goes slack, “You know Captain America.” He whispers, pointing a finger at you.

“I do.” You respond, watching his reaction with amusement.

“Jesus Christ,” He covers his mouth with his hand, “I’m talking to someone who knows Captain America.” All the color from his face is gone and he continues rambling, gesticulating like he did before at the circle, “I’m actually speaking with someone who speaks with Captain America. You exchange words with him, actual words. Look,” He grabs his phone from his pocket. Taking a step closer, he unlocks screen, turning it to you.

You see a picture of him, and two little kids, a girl and a boy, who can only be his children, dressed in full Captain America’s suit pajamas. They’re gathered in an embrace, sporting huge grins on their faces. The sight causes one of your own to form on your face.

“I take it you’re a fan?” You note, as he puts his phone back.

“What?” He squeezes his eyes and shakes his head quickly, “Who isn’t?” Harry exasperates, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “God, I have so many questions, I mean, what does he have for breakfast? No, wait. Don’t answer that. It’s weird, I’m not a weirdo, I promise. Please don’t tell him I’m a weirdo.” He pleads.  

“I bet he’s seen worse.” You let out a chuckle, “Hey, you know what. His birthday is in a few days.” You point out.

Harry snorts a laugh. Of course he already knows that.

“There’ll be a party at the Tower.” you continue. It isn’t uncommon for Tony to invite a few of Steve’s fans to celebrate his birthday, the ones who are not bat crap crazy at least and Harry seems to be pretty sane compared to a few others you’ve met, “Why don’t you come by? I surely can add your name on the list and you can ask him in person what he eats for breakfast.”

“Are you serious?” He gasps and you’re pretty sure he’s about to faint.

“Sure. That’s not a party for kids, though. I’m sure Steve will be more than pleased to arrange something another day…”

“Pfff, they don’t care about him. I force them to use the pajamas. They’re Iron Man kind of kids.” He rolls his eyes before continuing, “I’d really love to, Y/N. But, are you sure? I don’t want to be a bother.”

“Yeah. Just, ahm, this,” you wave your hand around your belly, “I still haven’t told about this to everyone there yet, I have to ask you to be discreet.”

“Of course.” With his hand, he mimics a zipping move on his mouth.

“Ok, then.” You smile, “Give me your number and I’ll let you know about the details.”

Look at you. Exchanging phone numbers with a guy on your first day at the support group. Heloise will be proud.

~~~

Oh, Steve’s gonna hate this party. It’s everything he loathes: crowded, loud, extravagant and expensive. You don’t personally know almost anyone there, but from the seat on your table, you see a lot of famous faces. Actors, actresses, singers, politics, business people… Drinks and food are offered in exorbitant amounts and variety. A fancy DJ takes over the music on the dance floor while dancers and other entertainers put on their shows around the room. Classic Tony Stark. It will always be this way. Tony thinks Steve needs this kind of excitement and Steve doesn’t wanna hurt Tony’s feelings by turning it down. Two fools who adore each other but refuse to express themselves…

Except from Steve, who you spot across the room, as red as a tomato, surrounded by a number of beautiful girls, you end up being the first one of the team to get to the party. Not that surprising if you consider the anxiety ruling your feelings the whole day and the lack of disposition to put an effort on getting ready. You’re probably gonna see Bucky here. It’s been three months now, and you have no idea what to expect if you actually see him. With Anna. Will she be there, too? You scoff at yourself. Of course she will. She’s his girlfriend, after all…

Will he even talk to you? Will you want to talk to him? Given your last interaction you seriously doubt that would happen. But if it does… would you be able to keep your secret? Is that something you really want? Keeping your baby as a secret?

“Hey, beautiful,” Wanda finally arrives to the table you’ve been occupying alone, sipping from your non-alcoholic cocktail.

“Hi, there yourself,” you greet back as she sits by your side, “Where’s Vision?”

“Ugh, he’s working on his human form, I just couldn’t wait anymore.” She rolls her eyes, “You look amazing,” she compliments you, after leaning back on her chair to give you a once over.

You chose some old black dress from the depths of your drawer. The fabric is loose from your chest line down to your knees. Your body hasn’t changed that much yet, but observant eyes could notice some details here and there, making you opt to something which would somehow disguise the little changes. You smile back at Wanda, not really believing her compliment. Without noticing, you bring your thumb to your lips, biting your nail.

“Why are you nervous?” Wanda asks.

“You know why.” You keep biting on your nail, only stopping when Wanda gently pulls your arm down, making you look at her.

“Have you seen him, yet?”

You shake your head no, “Have you?” you mutter.

She also gives you a negative answers and a small silence settles between you two, before she breaks it, “How was the group thing Heloise recommended?”

“It was pretty nice, actually.” You acknowledge, swinging the straw on your drink, “I made a friend there.”

“Really?” Wanda beams, “What’s her name?”

You laugh at her assumption, “His name is Harry. I invited him to come tonight.” You take the straw to your lips to take a sip from your drink.

“What?” The small smirk on her lips is nothing but malicious, “You have a date?”

You cough, choking on your drink and putting it back on the table before furrowing your eyebrows at her, “A date? It’s not a date, he’s a fan of Steve, he was nice, I didn’t see any reason to not invite him.” Not even for a second you had seen it that way.

“Ok…” Wanda nods, but the annoying little smirk doesn’t leave her face as she props her elbows on the table and lean her head on her hand, staring at you.

“Stop, Wanda,” you admonish, “It’s not like that, besides, he’s not even my type.”

“And what’s your type exactly?”

Semi-stable 100-year-old super soldiers would be the answer, but you decide to just shrug instead.

“Alright…” She gets up, seemingly giving up on the teasing, “I’m gonna go grab something to drink, do you want anything?”

“Yeah, would you bring me some of this pineapple thing? It’s on the non-alcoholic session.”

‘Sure, be right back.”

You watch her walk towards the huge bar next to the dance floor before your eyes search for Steve again, just to check if he needs saving or something.

That’s when your heart jumps. The girls have vanished from around Steve and, instead, he is there. Bucky. He’s dressed in a well cut navy blue suit. The lack of a tie and the choice of wearing a black tshirt under it makes it more casual. And sexy. God, how can a man be so handsome? You take in a shaky breath.   

He has a hand on Steve’s shoulder as he laughs at something that has been said. That beautiful and rare smile which makes your hands cold and sweaty. The one that, when you saw it for the first time at that party, all those years ago, you didn’t stand a single chance. And just like then, you fall in love with him. All over again. Yeah… right, like you had stopped at all…

As you watch how longer his hair is after these three months, allowing him to tie the locks in one of those sinful low buns of him, you realize that, yes, lately Bucky hasn’t inhabit all your thoughts like before, but he’s been always there…A dormant sweet pain hidden in the depths of your chest. Ready to burst out at any given moment. You love him and you know that’s how it will always be. No matter what happens. No matter how much time you spend away from each other he will always be the one who takes your breath away.

Your eyes descend the length of his arm and only then her presence reaches your senses. There’s a small, delicate hand wrapped around Bucky’s elbow. A sour taste sweeps into your mouth as you take in Anna by his side. She’s wearing a long grey blue dress which embraces her slim figure flawlessly. You can see she’s chosen it carefully. The color matches Bucky’s outfit. Her dark hair is loose and falls on her back in big, silky waves. Does he wrap his hands around it? Does he snuggle on her to smell the scent of her shampoo? She’s laughing with them and rests her head on Bucky’s shoulder. Does she know he’s ticklish on that little spot between his neck and his jaw? Does she kiss him there and makes him squirm and giggle the way you did? Did he let his beard grow again because she asked him to? Does he like the taste of her? You feel dizzy and glimpse the thin strap of her dress casually falling down her arm. It’s sexy. Does he think she’s sexy?

She is. She’s perfect. Just like he said she was. And she’s not you, which makes her even more perfect for him.

You look up and your heart stops when your eyes cross with hers. Her beautiful smile falters a bit as she brings her other hand to Bucky’s elbow, who keeps talking animatedly with Steve. You make no mistake of that. It’s a protective grip the one she sets on Bucky’s arms. You watch her lively expression fall. You hold your gaze locked with hers and the images flooding into your mind are sickening. Excruciating.  You see her moaning under him, their legs untangled under his bed sheets. Her soothing hand on his bare chest guiding him out of his nightmares, the smile that was yours being directed at her.

You can’t breathe. It’s too much.  You force yourself out of your own mental torture and hastily get up before you practically bolt to you’re not sure where, leaving the offending sight behind.  

~~~

“And then Dot made this huge cake, but you couldn’t eat it,” Bucky animatedly continues to describe one of the memories he had of Steve’s previous birthdays, “Because it was so fucking terrible, you sneaked the whole three pieces she served you to her cat.” He and Steve burst out in laughs. It isn’t always the good memories come to him, but when it does, oh man, it feels good.  

“You should’ve seen it, Anna,” Bucky turns to the girl on his arm, but her attention is  not on him. Her gaze stares ahead, but he finds nothing but strangers when he follows it, “Hey, are you ok?”

The question seems to take her out of her mind as she turns back to him smiling, “Yeah, of course. I think I need to go to the bathroom, though. Will you guys excuse me?” She looks at Steve, who gives her a small nod.

“Sure. Do you want me to walk you there?” Bucky asks.

“No, honey. It’s ok. I know the way.” She answers softly and places a kiss on his cheek, “Be right back.” She adds, before making her path towards the bathroom.

When she seems far enough away, Bucky addresses Steve, “So…ahm, the whole team is  coming?”

Steve’s eyes roll, “Yeah, Y/N is coming, pal.”

Bucky’s attempt to defend himself and deny Steve’s assumption is confronted by a raised brow from his buddy. He then contents himself by letting out a huff, mumbling a “jerk” under his breath before  shoving his hands inside his pockets, “Have you talked to her again?” He asks, looking at Steve, after a quick survey around the room.

“No, I haven’t. But, hey, do you know who should?” Steve fakes a cheerful insightful voice before glaring at Bucky, “You.”

Bucky faces wrinkle in displeasure at Steve’s jeering, before he gets serious again, “You said you think something is wrong?” He brings up Steve’s call a few days ago.

“And I meant it, Buck. She was all weird, like she wanted to get rid of me as soon as she could saying she had a group thing… besides she looked a bit sick…” Steve narrows his eyes, “I don’t know, man, just talk to her. If she called you, she had something important to say.”

Bucky drops his head, shaking it. He knows Steve has a point. All he needs is to gather the courage to face you again.

~~~

After you splash some water on the nape of your neck as an attempt to ease down your nerves, you take in your appearance on the huge mirror by the equally huge bathroom sink.

You wish you could’ve spent a little more time on getting ready for tonight. Nothing but a plain black dress, the same old red lipstick and hair in your usual style. Nothing fancy. Nothing sexy. Nothing special. You didn’t even put a pair of heels, preferring the comfort of flats.

Shit, is it the hormones making a number on your self-esteem, or is the sight of the perfect couple out there? Yeah, probably both, but more the latter than the first.

“Hey,” Nat bursts into the bathroom, looking like a fucking bombshell, of course, “Didn’t you hear me calling your name?” she asks with her arms thrown to the air, strutting to stand beside you, “Why did you run here? Are you ok? Do you feel sick?” She puts a hand on your forehead.

“I’m ok, I’m ok.” You turn away to the mirror again, talking to her through your reflections, “Came here to refresh a bit. That’s all.” You shrug, pulling down a couple of towel papers to clean the water from your neck.

She hums, tilting her head to side eye you, before placing her hand on your belly, “And how’s my niece?”

“Niece?” You chuckle at her certainty, “How do you even know for sure it’s a girl?”

“I don’t,” she admits before leaning down to level your belly, “But if you decide to put a number on me like Nathaniel did, we’re gonna have a little talk when you come out of your mommy’s belly, sweetie.”

You laugh as you throw away the paper towel, but a flushing sound coming from one of the many cabinets shuts you up. Natasha straightens up and you two look at each other with widen eyes. You freeze when the little door opens and a girl you’ve never seen before gets out of there, tripping on her hills. She stumbles right past you, not even minding to stop and wash her hands before going back to the party.

You breathe again. Apart from you not knowing who the girl is, she seemed too drunk or high to recognize any of you or make sense out of your conversation with Nat.

“Come on,” Nat pats your shoulder and turns to the door, “Wanda is searching for you, she’s got some disgusting pineapple thing she says it’s yours.”

“It is mine and it’s delicious.” You point out, following her. “Your nephew loves it, by the way.” You laugh at the deadly glare she shoots you as she holds the door for you to come out.

You both walk back to the party, completely unaware that while you worried about the girl coming out of the cabinet, you missed someone else rushing away from the spot they had been. Right at the other side of the bathroom door.

~~~

“Have you seen Bucky, yet?” Nat casually drops the ask, walking beside you through the crowded and animated room towards where Wanda and a few familiar faces from the team are.

“Yes, I have,” you mutter.

“Did you say hello or something?” Her curiosity sweeps into her voice.

“Of course not,” you snort, turning your face to her, “Hopefully, I won’t have to.”

“Ugh, what a timing,” She mumbles under her breath, looking ahead as your eyebrow pucker at her words.

“Nat, Y/N!”

You tilt your head to follow the very well-known voice and get the meaning of her words. A pair of super soldiers, walking right at your direction as the blond one is one step ahead of the other, waving at you and too damn close for you to succeed on a sneaky get away.

“Happy birthday, Mr. Captain!” Nat pulls Steve to a hug when he approaches the pair of you, “Where are we now? Two hundred?”

“Getting there,” he chuckles, turning to you when Nat lets him go.

“Happy birthday, Steve,” You surprise yourself when you manage the quiet greeting to even come out of you. You hug Steve. As your heart hammer against your chest, you turn your face to the side so you don’t have to exchange eye contact with Bucky, who keeps himself planted behind his friend.

“Thank you, Y/N.” Steve beams at you and braces his hands on your shoulders when you pull away from the hug, “I’m really glad you came.”

You smile weakly at him, feeling the burning of Bucky’s eyes into you from behind his friend’s shoulder, but you don’t dare to look back at him, wrapping your arms around yourself and taking a step back. Where the hell is his girlfriend, anyway?

“Hey, Barnes.” Nat deadpans.

“Hey.” From the corner of your eyes, you see he doesn’t move his gaze from you when he answers Nat with a small voice.

The most awkward silence you’ve ever experienced takes place.    

“Hey, Nat.” Steve, clears his throat, “Guess who’s here with Clint?”

“Who?” She eyes him suspiciously.

“I give you one word: Budapest.”

“What?” She squeaks as her jaw goes slack, “Where?” She stands on her toes, her eyes roaming through the place.

“Come, I’ll show you.”

Unannounced, Steve drags Nat by the arm. Your eyes widen as you realize what just happened. Fuck, Steve. Swiftly, you move to try and walk past Bucky, who hasn’t budge from his spot, but a shot of electricity sparks through your skin as a gentle cold metal hand holds your arm, “Wait. Can I talk to you?” His mouth is close to your ear and his hot breath washes over your skin, creating a contrast to the cold- and longed- touch. Shivers rush down your spine unbidden.

Your eyes flicker from where he’s holding you to meet his blue ones, which convey an unreadable emotion. Gulping down the bubbling feelings inside, you pull your arm away and step back to face him, folding your arms protectively in front of your chest once again, “Listen,” you lick your lips and keep your posture high, “Yeah, I knew you would be here. I wasn’t gonna come, but Steve insisted, I won’t stay too long, though-”    

“What…No…” He breathes as a line creases his forehead, “I mean, it's ok.” He continues in a hunched posture, putting his hands back in his pockets, “Of course. Steve’s your friend as much as he’s mine. And… and this is your home.” His eyes darts to the side briefly, “I didn't think you wouldn't be here.”

Stillness lingers between you two as now your eyes simply can’t leave his. What does he want, then? Wasn’t he the one to demand distance? He seems a lot more at ease than he was on your last conversation through the phone. Submissive, even.  

“How are you?” He’s the one to cut through the void, stepping closer.

Fuck, he smells good.

“I’m ok.” You nod.  

“Good, great.” He lets out a breathy smile, before chewing on his lower lip, “You look good.” He says softly, eyes locked with yours.

You take in some air as you feel your mouth dry and your arms slowly unfold themselves. It feels like your Bucky all over again, no that one on the phone and,just like that, you’re melting inside. All the walls you’ve been building up to shield yourself from the pain, from the rejection, threatening to crumble down. Only one thought keeping them up: He’s here with his girlfriend, who isn’t you.

“Hey, ahm, I-I,” He stutters, shifting on his feet, “About the last time we talked. I'm really sorry. I shouldn't have acted that way. I was a fucking jackass.” He looks down to the floor. You see the regret written on his eyes when he looks up again, “It felt like you had something important to say and I should’ve listened to you. I’m really sorry for that, I’m a stupid jerk.” He says the last line in a tiny voice, speaking more to himself than to you.

“Ok,” you barely whisper and stay still, only breathing through your mouth, unable to speak any other word as his blue eyes never leave yours.

He leans closer to you, “What was that you wanted to talk about?”

Oh... All the air escapes your lungs. Is that how is going to be? You’re gonna tell him now? Here? You want to. God knows you want to, but… You purse your lips, before taking in some much needed air, “I… I called you because… I have some news, I-”

“Bucky?”

Your heart plummets as you gulp down what you were about to say. Bucky’s gaze snaps from you to look over your shoulder and you watch his eyes following Anna as she passes right beside you, to place herself on his side, giving him a smile as she curls her arm around his waist.

“Oh, hey.” Bucky seems lost as he looks down at her.

“Hi,” She greets you, after turning to you with a small smile still on her lips.

Only then Bucky seems to be brought back to reality as he looks back at you with something you could guess as guilt, or shame on his expression. Your gaze shifts from him to Anna, using all your strength to keep yourself together, “Hello,” you nod, forcing a smile back and joining your cold hands in front of you, “How is it going?”

“I’m ok, thanks. How about you?”

She laces her words with kindness and you give her a standard polite answer despite the evident and suffocating awkwardness of the situation. You want nothing but to bolt away of there, feeling small, ugly, pathetic and stupid around them. Stupid to think there was the place and time to tell Bucky about your baby. To, for a second, imagine things would be ok and you could go through this pregnancy in peace, without the weight of you and Bucky’s complicated state of affairs. You want to bolt away, to ignore her perfection and Bucky’s pained stare to you.

That’s when you see your way out. Lost among the crowds, carefully and humbly dodging away from bumping into people as he awkwardly walks through the room. A genuine smile curls up at the sight of your savior.

“Harry,” you shout, making Bucky and Anna turn to see where you’re looking at.

Harry spots you when you wave at him and an evidently relieved smile forms on his face.

“Excuse me,” you say, looking back at the couple but paying no attention to the confusion etched on Bucky’s face, “I gotta go. Have fun.” You add, before finally leaving the scene.

Bucky can’t take his eyes off of you as you greet the man you called Harry with a brief hug. His stomach churns when he sees you two laugh at something the guy said and he hates how evidently the man blushes at your presence. He has to physically stop himself to chase after you and punch the little punk in the guts when you pull him by the hand and drag him through the sea of bodies in direction to where a few members of the team are.

Who the hell is this guy? And more importantly, what does he have to do with you? His heart leaps violently against the bones of his chest when a thought floods into his mind. The news you said you had… the reason you called him…could it have anything to do with this new guy in your life?

“Bucky, are you listening to me?” Anna’s voice reaches his senses.

“Oh, sorry.” He blinks, shifting his focus to her, “What was that?”

“I asked if you know who that is?” She asks curiously, nodding to your direction.   

“No, I don’t.” Bucky answers simply, smiling briefly to release the tense set of his jaw, and changes the subject, “Where’ve you been?”

“Oh, the bathroom down here was crowded, so I went to the one upstairs.”

Bucky nods, his gaze turning back to where you are on its own volition before Anna cups his cheeks, shifting his face back to her and brings her lips to his. Although being taken by surprise, Bucky lets himself relish on the intense kiss. It’s nothing like the kisses he and Anna are used to sharing. It’s demanding and full of want. Almost violent and he’s grateful for having the thoughts of you and your new friend away from his mind at least for a bit.

“I love you.” She whispers, pressing her forehead on his and like every time she’s said it before, he doesn’t say it back. He can’t. Instead, he just smiles and pecks her lips.

“Let’s go dance.” She tips her head back to look at him and takes his hands into hers.

“What?” His eyes well up, “You know I don’t-”

He wants to knock himself up when he sees her eyes casting down and the faint of a pout on her lips. He takes another brief glance at where you are laughing with Sam, Steve and your friend.

“Alright,” he gives in, “Let’s go.” He’s pleased to see her face lighting up again as she pulls him to the dance floor.

He doesn’t like to dance anymore. Not like he once did. But that’s not what really troubles him through automatic moves and smiles… it’s the thought of you pulling the guy with your hands. It’s thinking that what you wanted to tell him was that you found someone new. That you’ve moved on and would be with someone else, just like he had told you he had decided to be with Anna. Fuck… is that how he made you feel when he told you that?

Two or three songs later, the music stops and Tony grabs the mic, announcing it was time for singing happy birthday, inviting everyone to go outside and watch the fireworks by the pool.   

Like everyone else, Bucky does as he says. The happy birthday song happens, some gig involving a showgirl in Captain America inspired costume and a huge star spangled cake takes place- to Steve’s dismay. Then the fireworks start.

With Anna standing right in front of him, Bucky doesn’t really pay attention to any of that.  All he sees is you. There you are. A few feet away from him, adorably staring up in awe with the fireworks. The sight makes an inadvertent smile curl up on his face for a second. He loves the way your lips are an inch parted as you take in the show happening in the sky.

How can someone be so stunning?

You’re always so effortlessly beautiful. You take his breath away. You make him acquainted with his own heart. Always did and still do. He watches as you turn your head to the side to say something to the person beside you.

Oh, yeah. That guy is there, too. Right beside you.

His mind races at the same speed of the fireworks bursting right above him. Are you really with that man? Or is it just jealousy making him assume things? The little shit has nothing to do with you…What would you see in him? The punk is not even touching you…

But maybe it’s still a secret. Maybe you wanna tell him in person before opening it up to everyone. Just the way he did about Anna...Maybe that’s why Steve felt like you were hiding something from him the other day…

Does he touch you when nobody's looking, then? Does he know about that tiny spot between your waist and your hips? The one which made you squirm when he kissed it? Do you let him sleep in your bed? Do you whisper you love him right before he falls asleep, too? Does he keep you up at night with nightmares? Does he cling on you too much? Will you feel like running away from him at some point?

Bucky hopes not. He takes in a long, shuddering breath.You deserve someone who doesn’t make you wanna leave. Like he once did.

Anna leans her back on his chest and pulls his arm to wrap it around her body. He looks down at her and places a kiss on the top of her head, wishing her touch keeps him grounded there.

~~~

Right after the fireworks ends, most of the party goes  back inside, while you, Harry, Steve, Sam, Vision and Wanda form a circle by the pool to chat. Harry has marveled at everyone, but meeting Steve made him lost his shit. The funny thing is the Soldier blushed just as much as the fan at the interaction. Even after all these years, the Captain still isn’t used to the attention. But he did answer all the questions Harry made after you played the  part of the mediator of the communication. You’re glad Harry has been discreet as he promised, answering vaguely the times people asked where and when you two had met.  

“Steve.”

You look towards the sound to see Bucky approaching your little circle, arm in arm with Anna. You turn away while the rest focused on the couple.

“Hey, pal.”

“We’re going.” Bucky talks in a harsh voice directly with Steve, but the hard expression on his face is aimed to someone else. Harry on your side.  

“Already?” Steve asks as the others protest.

Looking at Harry you see him still, gaping at Bucky. The now familiar awestruck expression plastered on his face. You’ll have to disappoint him this time. There’s no way you’re going to introduce him to Bucky. You had your share of interaction with him for tonight. You glance up at the soldier and his chest is puffed, chin slightly tucked, making his clenched jaw evident. You hold back an eye roll. Is he trying to seem intimidating? What is that for?

While Bucky explains they have to leave because Anna has a lecture early in the morning and they say their general goodbyes your gaze meets hers. She’s been staring at you and doesn’t bother on turning away when you spot her. There’s something about the way she’s looking at you… you study her closer. It’s not intimidation like Bucky. It’s not anger, or jealousy…It’s fear, evident fear in her eyes. It unsettles you and you finally turn your eyes from her, relaxing only when the couple leaves the place.

~~~

“This was, hands down, the most surreal night of my life.” Harry brings both his hands to his forehead, shaking his head in disbelief, “I’ve never felt safer and also ready to drop dead at any moment, it was insane.”

You let out an amused laugh. It was fun to see the fascination in Harry at each avenger he got to meet. You thought Steve would be the highlight of his night, but it was certainly hilarious to watch him lose his voice when Natasha showed up. Now, the party is almost over and, apart from you and Harry sitting on one of the huge couches right by the pool, only a few people still lingered there.  

“I’m glad you had fun. Everyone really liked you.” You point out, slipping off of your flats and folding your legs to your side on the cushion, shifting your torso to face his profile.

“Pfff,” he shakes his head, but you can see the contentment on his face, “I can’t believe Tony Stark said he will drop by at Luna and Jon’s daycare. They’ll freak out.”

“Tony’s the most amazing person in the world.” You smile, leaning your elbow on the armrest to rest your chin on your hand, “And he loves kids.”

“Me too.” He nods, mimicking your position, “Especially mine.” He adds. The pride which he says the words with is adorable.

“Who are with them tonight?”

“My mom. Who still must be up waiting to hear about my Avengers escapade. I’m glad Thor wasn’t here, or else she would kill me for not bringing her.” He cringes.

The curiosity growing in you ever since you two met takes the best of you, “Ahm, can I ask you something?” He nods and you continue, softly, “What about the mother of your kids? Is she around?”

“She… she died when they were born.” He smiles tightly, fidgeting with his fingers.

“Oh my God,” You whisper, “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”

“It’s ok. The worst has passed. Not a good story to tell a pregnant woman, though.”

“How did you do it? All alone with two kids…” you can’t help but wonder out loud.

His head drops, “It was tough. I mean, really, really tough. When I caught myself alone with those two tiny loud creatures, totally depending on me… I thought I wouldn’t be able to handle it. But then my mom was there for me, and I went to therapy, the group happened, my friends….” He sighs, deeply, looking up at you, “And I love those little chipmunks so, so, so much. This love makes me stronger than I have ever been.”

You smile, recognizing the feeling.

“I would probably kick Cap’s ass for them. But don’t tell him I said that.” You both laugh after he goes serious again. “Don’t worry, it’s gonna be ok. The thing is we’re never really as alone as we think we are.”

“I guess you’re right.” You say, thinking about all the support you already have when just a few people know about your pregnancy.

“Can I ask you something, now?” His voice is quiet and gentle.  

“Go ahead.”

“It’s him, isn’t it? Bucky Barnes? The father of your baby?”

The easy smile you had on your face drops at once and you turn away before you give him a single nod, “How did you know?”

“Well… I felt like he could kill me only by staring at me when he saw me by your side, which was pretty scary, to be honest.” His eyes go round when he says this, “Also, you got all quiet when he came by with that girl and he was the only one you didn’t introduce me to…” He shrugs.

You purse your lips, “It’s complicated.”

“He doesn’t know?”

You shake your head, “I’ve tried to tell him before. Tonight again, but…It didn’t happen.” You press your lips between your teeth, “I don’t know how I will do it, to be honest.” You let out a humourless chuckle.  

He nods thoughtfully and stays quiet for a little while before speaking, “I know we’ve met just a few days ago, - and I can’t believe I’m saying this to an Avenger- but just know you can count on me...I bet that despite it all, everything will be alright.” He reaches for your hand on your lap and gives it a squeeze.

A ghost of a smile goes back to your lips, “I hope so, Harry.”

[voidcat]

– Gekka Bijin

Gekka Bijin, also known as the Beauty Under the Moon or the Queen of the Night, is a species of cactus and one of the most cultivated species in the genus. It blooms rarely and only at night.

Oikawa finds himself at a party he couldn't care less for, searching for someone he cares about a little too much.

word count: 1.8k

a/n: this is mainly inspired by the song Bodys, I suggest listening to it as you read. | ao3

The new song that takes over the place makes the party seem like something out of a mediocre America coming-of -age movie. Oikawa looks around, what was he even doing here?

The beat starts to change and what he assumes to be the main melody begins to take over the room. The chances of finding the one person he was looking for were low, very low. And he is sure he had spent all his luck in life already. Agreeing to attend chibi-chan’s party wasn’t the brightest idea he has had but he had to start somewhere, preferably night time; so the darkness and the dim lights surrounding him could hide his face in case his mask happens to slip. That’s not what I meant to say at all. I mean- I’m sick of meaning, I just want to hold you.

You and me both; he cannot help but think, sparing a glance at the unfamiliar faces and the clashing bodies around him. The whole place stinks of sweat, alcohol and a pinch of tobacco. He scrunch his nose at that. Is the chorus yet? No, it’s just the building of the verse…

“What type of idiot even comes up with such lame lyrics anyway? I don’t even want to think who listens to them...” he’s complaining to himself, again.

“Well I’d bet my money on that girl by the stereo who seems to be having too much fun.” Oikawa didn’t even realize he was complaining out loud until he heard the familiar voice reply to him. He looks up to the direction of the said girl. “Is she... holding an empty bottle of vodka as a mic?” He tilts his head as he tries to make sense of the scene before him, trying his best to ignore the owner of the voice deliberately.

“Holding onto the bottle, would be a more proper expression I think.” This time he looks back at the voice.

His time in California has done wonders on him, that’s for sure. His, now tanner, skin compliments his deep olive green eyes as always, his hair slightly ruffled and he can spot a little bit of a blush on his face. Could be from the alcohol, he assumes, if Iwai was drinking.

Everything around him is in a blur, his eyes do not see anything that’s not him.

“Long time no see Iwa-chan!” he says at last, one of his signature smiles decorating his face. “What brings you to chibi-chan’s party?” Iwa frowns at that, must’ve realized the smile is fake. “Dragged in by Mattsun and Makki the moment I said I was going to spend the night by myself.” Mattsun and Makki. It has been a while he last talked to them properly, and he hasn’t been messaging with Iwaizumi like he once did either, so that must say something. The distance between them put its toll on their life-long friendship. Reading, more like trying, his messages of “shittykawa” in his voice can never compare to hearing the awful nickname, even if it’s followed by a hit.

Interrupted from his train of thoughts, he watches Iwa’s gaze go down. “Nice tshirt.” Right, he forgot he was wearing that tonight. The writing ‘zacco platypus’ on his chest feels heavier than ever.

Another trademark smile. “What can I say, Iwa-chan. I missed ya!” He says in his typical singsong tone. The unsettling silence takes over as they stare at one another, both seem to be deep in thought.

The truth is Iwaizumi wasn’t the one avoiding Oikawa, at least not as obviously. Ever since high school ended and their lives got separated by an ocean, Oikawa was left with too much time to overthink the smallest things.

He realizes he hasn’t said anything nor made a gesture to show he heard Iwa yet. “So you’re here by yourself? No one new in your life?” He isn’t sure if he wants to hear his friend’s reply to the latter.

“Tried once or twice, didn’t stick long. I won’t ask you back the same question though, you’ve spammed me with all the gruesome details just as they happened.”

That wasn’t exactly true. Sure, talking excitedly about a date gone nice or the little things that attracted him further to his dates were something he let his friend know.

But he never told him how he tried dating men; how he was always searching for calloused hands, sharp green eyes, messy spiky hair; how he wished he could hear the mean nicknames instead of cute names of endearment or the silly pet names. How often he thought about what the two of them could have been, how he never acted towards this dream, the fear of ruining their friendship nagging his brain.

The drunk girl starts to sing along loudly: “Well, so what? We're young!” something he can’t put a finger on changes in her tone. “We’re thin, most of us.

We're alive-“ A pause. “Most of us.” She ends it in a rather sad tone.

“Well, they seem to be having fun.” Iwai spares a glance at the dancing figures around them, attempting to keep the conversation alive. “I’d be having fun too, if I consumed booze recklessly and lost myself completely I guess.” Oikawa says with a roll of eyes.

Then his body sets into motion before he can comprehend what his hands are doing. He puts his hands on Iwa’s shoulders, truly a sight out of a cheesy teen romcom. He wants to scoff at his cliché-ness.

 He can see the shock painted on Iwaizumi’s face.

“Those are you got some nice shoulders  I'd like to put my hands around them  I'd like to put my hands around them”

“Oi baka-kawa, what are you doing?”

“Following the instructions, and trying to have fun, assumed acting a bit more like them could help achieve that.” He points at the people around them with his head. They start to swing in an awkward manner, not exactly matching the song’s pace or rhythm. Iwa’s hands find his waist.

“So what’s with the sudden change of your messages lately?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Iwa-chan-“ Oikawa tries to brush it off, breaking eye contact but it seems Iwa won’t let go of this any time soon.

“You know damn well what I’m talking about, I’m not in the mood for your games or blatant acting so you better explain to me what’s been bothering you.” His demeanor is stern but he can hear the concern in his voice.

He wants to turn his gaze away, avoid the piercing looks Iwa is sending his way, but if he’s really going to do it tonight, there’s a chance this may be the last time he will get to see his face like this, up-close.

Meeting Iwa’s stare wasn’t the sanest thing to do for Oikawa because he cannot find it in himself to blink. He wishes for time to stop and to stay in this exact moment forever. With his hands on his shoulders, Iwa’s hands on his waist, gazing into each other’s eyes and getting lost in them; everything besides them is a mixture of noise and colors. No longer resisting the demanding look in Iwa’s eyes, Oikawa opens his mouth at last:

“I was afraid I’d say something wrong, ruin something between us or cause a mess I couldn’t fix because there’d be this entire ocean between the two of us.”

He stops to take a deep breathe. “I guess I was afraid I’d do something stupid… (like this)” The last bit remains unsaid but it’s heavy in the air and they both know it. He speaks in a whisper and leans in for a kiss.

All he can feel is how warm and soft being this close to Iwaizumi feels. It feels different than any other kiss he has ever had and he knows nothing will be the same after it. He’s too focused on his worrying, he doesn’t even realize whether Iwa responds back to his kiss or not. And so he pulls back to examine his face and get a good look at him in this shitty lightning one last time.

“Oi, if the idea of the two of us is stupid to you, maybe you shouldn’t have gone in for a kiss.”

At that moment Oikawa is at a loss of words. He stands with his jaw hanging open, trying to process his words. He was expecting a shove, maybe an angry yell, a hit in the head or Iwaizumi to leave immediately without sparing him a glance. But this?.. This was not on that list, not even an option at all.

Having read him through his various moods all his life, Iwa seems to know what is exactly going in Oikawa’s head. So he pulls the idiot back to him, his right hand on his jaw, for a second kiss.

No fireworks, no explosions; all those writers and painters must have been wrong all this time.

Because the kiss he shares with the person he loves more than anything else in this world feels like something he long searched for and finally found. And in a sense, it is exactly that.

Kissing Iwa in that very moment comes natural to him just like breathing, eating, doing a jump serve or setting for him. It feels like coming home to rest after a long day, to eat milk bread after craving it for so long, to watch the sun set after a well spent day.

Kissing Iwaizumi Hajime feels like home.

He is sure somewhere far away a queen of the night blooms just as they kiss.

They pull away slowly. Every action they take together, they’ve grown accustomed to it, in perfect sync and tonight is no exception. They can see each other smiling faintly. One of his genuine ones, Iwaizumi knows. Oikawa rests his forehead on Iwa’s and they stand like that for a little longer.

I got so fucking romantic, I apologize.

A new song starts to play through the speakers.

“Seriously, what’s up with those lyrics?” Oikawa starts shaking his head, still smiling.

His whiny statement goes ignored by Iwaizumi: “What do you say, we go out and… catch up?” 

He’s met with intense and light brown eyes suddenly directing their attention back to him, there must be supernovas hidden inside them, he cannot help but think, a lump forming in his throat.

“And we can… put a name on what we are, if you’d like that, I mean-“ He is cut off by a quick peck on the lips and next thing he knows, he’s being dragged away from the party by the only person he has always loved and cared for with his whole heart.

As the obnoxious music they left behind fades into the background, Oikawa makes a mental note to send that girl a bottle of her favorite drink; marching towards nowhere in particular, hand in hand with the one he loves.

[girls-scenarios]

I Kind Of Like You

Idol: Sei (Weki Meki)

Prompt: Can I request a Weki Meki scenario where the reader use to be apart of IOI and came to celebrate with Yoojung and Doyeon for their new release and both the reader and Sei are super awkward cus they both like each other without knowing, so the rest of Weki Meki work to get them to admit it.

Writer: Admin Kiwi

A/N: I hope you all enjoy!

♡ Tip Jar♡

If you were honest with yourself, you’d liked Sei since you’d seen her during your time on Produce 101. Immediately, she’d caught your eye with her cute, slow speech and her big eyes and smile. There was something about her that made your heart skip a beat, and as you trained, you’d found yourself distracted, watching her instead of paying attention to your own dance. You’d wanted to talk to her, to get to know her a little bit better, to make her smile. But she’d gotten eliminated before you even had the chance to make your move.

Even through the rest of the show and your own lucky debut with ioi as the final member, Sei had stayed in the back of your mind, her cute smile stuck behind your eyelids. So when Yoojung and Doyeon told you that she’d switched to their company and would be debuting with them, you’d been overjoyed. Both because she was getting to achieve her dream, and because you might get another chance to see her.

There was only one problem: you couldn’t seem to stop being awkward around her.

“Come on, it’s not like she bites,” Doyeon said with a laugh, shoving your shoulder. She’d caught you staring at Sei once again. You were at a little party for their new release, a celebration for the group and a few idol friends. A few of the girls from ioi were there with you, and although you wanted to catch up with all of them, you couldn’t help yourself from being drawn towards Sei instead.

Blushing, you shoved Doyeon back, trying to ignore Yoojung’s loud laugh at your plight. “I don’t think she bites! I’m just nervous around her, that’s all!”

“There’s no reason to be, though,” Yoojung pointed out, “she’s just as awkward as you. It’s not like she’s going to judge you.”

You turned to once again look across the room at where Sei stood, talking to Elly. She was smiling, but when she caught your eyes, she stuttered and quickly looked away. Embarrassed, you looked away as well, mentally kicking yourself. “She probably thinks I’m weird, always looking at her like this,” you groaned. You could hear Elly laughing and your stomach sank as you wondered if she was laughing at you.

“Oh my god.” Yoojung threw her hands up into the air in frustration. “When are you two going to realize that you’re made for each other? She likes you too, you know!”

“No, I don’t know. That’s why I’m nervous. I don’t want to make a fool out of myself.” You looked down at your feet, your heart skipping a beat. What would you do if Sei didn’t like you? Cry, probably.

“I’m tired of this,” Doyeon said, at the same time as Lua yelled “just do it!” A commotion drew your eyes back to Sei. Suyeon, Lua, and Elly were surrounding her and her cheeks were flushed pink as she stared at the ground, her hands crossed in front of her. On the side of the wall, the Lucy and Rina watched with the rest of the visiting ioi girls, all of their eyes wide.

You were about to open your mouth and ask what was going on when Doyeon and Yoojung both grabbed one of your arms and dragged you forward, towards Sei. You tried to protest, letting out a squeak and pulling back, but the two of them working together and your shaking legs prevented you from stopping them. At the same time, Lua and Suyeon shoved Sei forward and Elly gave her the final push. She stumbled to a stop right in front of you, and your legs almost gave away as Doyeon and Yoojung dropped your arms and disappeared, leaving you right in front of Sei.

“Uh,” you said, then immediately felt stupid as Sei looked around at her members, her mouth open in shock. Your face felt hot. What had Doyeon and Yoojung been thinking? “S-sorry.”

“No!” Sei quickly waved her hands, and it struck you that you’d never heard her respond so quickly. She was blushing a deep red, and she looked adorable, which caused your heart to beat even harder. “D-don’t apologize. There’s nothing to apologize for.”

“I mean, this is kind of....” You trailed off, motioning at everyone else in the room. At this, Sei whined and stomped her foot.

“It feels like we have an audience! Go away!”

Lucy groaned and whined that she didn’t want to, but the rest of the girls grabbed her and quickly emptied out of the room, but not before Elly had let out a loud “good luck!” As the door slammed behind them, you suddenly felt a lot more trapped. Your heart pounded faster, your mouth dry and hands sweaty. For a moment, everything was quiet. Then Sei cleared her throat and stared resolutely at the ground.

“They’re the worst,” she said, matter-of-fact, and you had to laugh, although most of it was a nervous laugh.

“No kidding. What were they thinking?” You wiped your hands on your pants, searching for the right words to say. You’d wanted to speak to Sei since Produce 101, and now what? You could hardly get out words in front of her. You took a shaky breath and opened your mouth, starting to speak just as Sei said “so....” Both of you paused.

“You can do first,” you said, and she nodded, finally looking back up at you and rocking back and forth on her heels.

“Um, so I kind of like you,” she said softly before biting her lip and squeezing her hands together. Your breath caught in your throat and you wondered if you were dreaming. But then you heard Yoojung’s loud squeal and came back to reality. In your dream, Yoojung wouldn’t have been there. At the realization that this was real, you let out a relieved laugh, and she looked at you with narrowed, shaking eyes. “W-what?”

“I’m not laughing at you,” you quickly said, running your hands through your hair. You couldn’t stop yourself from smiling. “I’m just relieved. Because I like you too.”

Her shoulders visibly relaxed and she began to smile as well, that big, cute, toothy smile you’d always liked so much. “Oh. That’s good.”

“Yeah. Good.”

The both of you broke into laughter and Sei buried her face in her hands and shook her head. “This is so awkward! I can’t believe we waited this long.”

“True,” you said, too happy to be annoyed with yourself. You felt like you might burst from the fullness in your chest. “But I’m glad I got to tell you.” You heard the other girls in the other room and laughed. “It would have been a little bit better if not everyone was here to hear it though.”

“Yeah. We’re never going to live this down.” Sei tried to pout as she pulled her hands down, but she just ended up smiling widely again when she looked at you. “So.... Are we dating now?”

Your chest squeezed at her cuteness and you resisted the urge to squeal with excitement as you nodded. “If you want to be my girlfriend, then yes.” You could hardly believe this was happening. Sei giggled and shyly took your hand, threading her fingers through yours.

“Of course I want to be your girlfriend. I’ve wanted to be your girlfriend for a long time.”

“Same here,” you admitted, and both of you blushed. Then the door burst open and the other girls tumbled in, squealing and yelling their congradulations.

“It’s about time,” Doyeon called, “we should celebrate them finally getting together instead of our comeback! Comebacks happen all the time, I seriously didn’t think I’d ever see this happen!”

“You’re welcome for the push,” said Yoojung, tossing her hair over her shoulder and sending the two of you a wink. Sei whined again and covered her face, but she moved closer to you, and your heart swelled again, making you smile like a fool. You couldn’t even be mad at your teasing friends. Not when you’d finally done what you’d wanted all along.

[fivethreewolverine]

Abilities far beyond the ordinary (1/7)

A/N: So uhm. I don’t know what this is. Probably not a drabble cause I feel like per definition that’s something where you’re like “hey I was super inspired and just wrote this quick drabble for you guys” which is definitely not what happened; I had this fraction of an idea, just like one short sequence, in my head, and then tried to build around it. It’s not really a one shot either I feel like cause there isn’t really much of a story here. Honestly, it’s just a thing. I’ve never written anything before in my life (apart from the two headcanon thingies my brain spit out) so if whoever reads this could not judge me too hard for it, that’d be great. I’m open to constructive criticism though, I know there’s a ton of amazing writers out there, and I’d just like to get better I guess, so if anyone reading this has any idea how I could achieve that, let me know!

I have a few ideas on how the others discovered their powers, and I’d like to try to write them all, even if I’m not good at it, sorry everyone.

Tagging some people (aka incredibly talented writers) who might be interested and/or able to help (sorry to bother you guys, feel free to ignore me and this mess of a thing): @diego2hargreeves @gayouijaboard [wow it really feels terrible to tag you guys cause you’re literally amazing and I’m just here like hey. wanna look at some literal garbage, say no more.]

Luther

For quite a few years of his young life, Luther had thought of himself as clumsy. Things around him always seemed to break, of their own accord or if it was his fault, he didn’t know. Everything was so damn fragile, and no matter how careful the boy was, most of the time, he couldn’t prevent it. According to Grace, it had always been that way. When he was just a baby, they had to replace his bed four times over the course of two weeks because he tended to break the bars that were supposed to keep him inside and safe.

Sir Reginald and Grace had almost gotten into a fight over it – almost, because no matter how unacceptable it was to Grace - they really needed to take care of the children - after all, she was supposed to just do that, not designed to argue about it, talk back or question Sir Reginald’s methods.

Of course, the bed wasn’t the only incident that had led to Luther not quite trusting himself with touching anything. Most of the time, when all he wanted was to pick up his favorite mug, he ended up with hot chocolate stains all over his uniform and broken pieces of porcelain in his hand. Eventually, he stopped choosing a favorite mug altogether. What’s the point in having favorite things when they are too fragile to use?

Then there were all the times he excitedly ran to his sister’s room – and ended up dumbfounded in front of her door, locked out while she was trapped inside. He had ripped of the door knob. Again. Sometimes he really hated the old mansion. Needless to say, Sir Reginald wasn’t too happy about replacing door knobs pretty much constantly either. Luther had lost count of how many times he had been told that, even though in his eyes they were just door knobs, exchangeable things no one ever even looked at, they were expensive items, manufactured exclusively in Italy.

Sometimes Luther would retreat into himself and barely leave his room, afraid that if he did, he’d just end up breaking something else, perhaps something that was irreplaceable, even for a billionaire like his father. Allison tried to cheer him up, assuring him that it wasn’t his fault.

“Happens to the best of us, Luther.”

“Is that what I am?”

“Of course, Number One.”

However, even with Allison by his side, there were days where he doubted himself. When he had broken something for the 17th time this week, and it was only Wednesday. When he had the same talk with his father that left him feeling like he was a disappointment to the man who had taken him in, every time.

"Number One, what did you do?”

“Nothing, father, I swear I’m not lying.”

“Does this look like nothing to you?”

“It’s an old house, it’s not my fault.”

“Out. I don’t want to see you until dinner.”

Sure, his father was also always telling him how he was special. But if all he was, was especially clumsy, he could live without being special.

Day in, day out, Sir Reginald was always going on about how they needed to train, to find what made them extraordinary, their super powers if you will, to change the world, to save it even. He had all of them wondering what it was they could do.

On a cold and rainy day in February that had already set the mood for Luther from the moment he had woken up to his curtains hanging in shreds (he swore he had just tried to close them when he had woken up in the middle of the night to the waxing moon shining in his face), Luther was feeling particularly low. After lunch, he was so frustrated and caught up in his own thoughts, that he was somewhat convinced his only ‘super power’ was to eat 16 hot dogs in one sitting.

Little did he know this would be the day he would finally figure it all out. Why everything in his general vicinity always seemed too damn fragile. Why it had always been him.

They had just finished their training for the day and Luther had gotten in an argument with Diego over what would be the most efficient way to take someone down – Diego insisted a knee to the bad guy’s stomach would get the job done while Luther preferred a safer approach such as blocking their attack first. It had gotten a little heated and the boy wasn’t being his usual overly cautious self.

“No, you gotta disarm them first or they’ll get you,” he exclaimed, looking pointedly at his brother.

“Whatever, you don’t know what you’re talking about anyway,” was Diego’s way of ending the argument.

Luther just sighed, annoyed at his brother’s stubbornness. He didn’t want to make an even bigger deal out of it. This was Diego after all, it was pretty much pointless to argue with him once he had made up his mind. So, to escape the situation, he didn’t correct his brother, but simply shoved past him instead. Or so he thought. Later, Luther would swear he had barely grazed him, he really had just wanted to shove him out of the way so he could get through. All of which was hard to believe in that very moment, considering that Diego was thrown across the entire foyer, crashing into the wall on the opposite side of the room. For a good three seconds, Luther could do nothing but stare. What on earth had just happened? Dumbfounded, he looked around, trying to find whatever had attacked his brother. Only when Diego started yelling at him did it dawn on him. There was no intruder, they weren’t under attack. He himself was the cause of this. He did that. No outside force, but a force inside of him. Luther couldn’t explain it, it had happened so fast, he hadn’t realized.

“Luther, WHAT THE FUCK?”

[Pogo, from God knows where: “Language!”]

“I’m sorry, God, Diego, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-“

“Do that again and you’re dead!”

Diego stared him down from across the room, furious, bleeding from a cut above the scar on his left eyebrow. Luther was praying it wouldn’t leave another scar, although Diego didn’t seem to have too much of a problem with the other one, it probably made him feel tough. When Diego charged at him from the other side of the room, it was really just his instincts that kicked in – and maybe also the intense training he’d undergone in the past few years. Of course, Luther raised his arms to defend himself. Diego’s fists collided with his forearms. Luther ducked to escape Diego’s following forward momentum and used the newfound room to take a swing at his brother himself. Nothing unusual for two boys who were constantly pitched against each other during training sessions. What was unusual, however, was that Luther’s punch sent Diego flying across the room once again. Just when Diego came crashing down on the floor, the large wing doors on the east side of the foyer opened, and the boy found himself at Sir Reginald’s feet.

“Number Two? Number One, what is the meaning of this? Why are you not getting ready for your evening classes? They will begin in 10 minutes! Don’t look at me now, Number Two, get up.”

“Luther attacked me!”

“Did you deserve it?”

“Did I…no! Dad, you didn’t see… He threw me across the room!”

“Why didn’t you defend yourself? You should be able to. We will have to intensify your training if you are still not strong enough to even get yourself out of a harmless situation like this. How will you ever be suited for missions, Number Two?”

“Father, it wasn’t Diego…Number Two’s fault. It was…I think it was… me.”

“What did you say? Speak up, Number One.”

“I said I think it was me!”

“What do you mean by that, explain yourself.”

“I didn’t… I didn’t even hit him that hard.”

“Like hell you did!”

“Language!”

“I mean… I didn’t intend to do it, it just happened. Like… I was really... like super… oh…super strong!”

“Okay, you really didn’t hit me that hard, I wasn’t expecting it, you know, my balance was off, you snuck up on me…”

“We were having a conversation, Diego, I didn’t sneak up on..”

“Silence! Number One, with me.”

And with that, Reginald Hargreeves turned on the heel and marched down the hallway to his office. Luther threw one last questioning look back to Diego, then set to follow his father.

Was this really it? Could this be? Super strength? Like a real hero?

Maybe he could fulfill his father’s vision, live up to the old man’s expectations.

Maybe he could truly save the world one day.

[addy-venture]

A Bio

I’m working on an actual bio page that will be a little more succinct and not as long, but in the mean time, this is the headcanons:

The Childhood:

The dichotomy of her endless energy being endearing and irritating began the minute she learned to crawl and would chase after her older brother, Sam, until he started crying. It only got worse as she grew up and chasing after her brother evolved into wrestling with their dogs or climbing on top of the roof or sneaking into her neighbor’s ranch to tie bows on their goats’ horns. It didn’t matter if her brother insisted that it was a horrible idea; if it sounded fun, she would do it. 

It became a joke early on that the only way to get Adelaide to do anything was to tell her she couldn’t do it, for better or worse. Her mother used this to get her to clean her room (“I’m sure you couldn’t pick up your clothes faster than your brother”) or to help out around the house (“It’ll be impossible to wash and put away all of these dishes before you father comes home”). As a child, this worked like a charm as the bouncing dark haired girl rushed to rise to the challenge placed before her. She eventually came to see the manipulation behind it, but she could never quite shake the urge to prove someone wrong whenever someone tried telling her not to do anything.

She grew up on the outskirts of a small town in Wyoming and, before being enrolled in school, only saw other kids at church every Sunday. Her only companion was her brother. Only one year older than her, he tended to be quiet around people and kept to himself or by his mother’s side. With Adelaide, though, he couldn’t help but come out of his shell as he made up incredible adventures for them to go on. He would admit to her that he wanted to be a writer or an actor when he grew up and Addy made it her mission to make sure he achieved his dream. She would be his partner in any scene he wanted to act out and would always encourage him to make new tales and stories for her. For the first few years of her life, nothing made her happier than getting her big brother to smile with her.

Always aware of her rambunctious personality, her parents were more willing than most to let her do whatever she wanted, whether that be wearing pants or playing sports only the boys would play. Her father specifically tended let go of what the town deemed to be “masculine” qualities since he viewed her as the son he had always wanted, just in the wrong body. While they were forgiving of this, there was the unsaid agreement between the two parents that eventually Addy would grow out of this phase and became a proper young lady once she was older. It was a shame that no one had told Addy that until it was too late.

The Transition:

School was something of a mixed bag for Addy once she started going. On the one hand, she couldn’t handle keeping still for so long and was often hit for it. While on the other, she was able to properly blossom into a social butterfly. She found that she liked people and all of the weird things they did. She knew some of the kids from church, but the ones that were from other neighboring towns or went to different churches were the ones she was interested in. Some of the children called her weird for always trying to talk to people, even the ones who always sat by themselves, but Addy paid them no mind. If Sam taught her anything, it was that some people weren’t good at talking and Addy was more than willing to help them out. 

She learned quickly that her boyish interests and energetic personality were not accepted by everyone, and the children at school would tell her so. They spat teases and ridicule at her any chance they could. Most ended with her shoving them to the ground and fighting until an adult got involved, but just as many resulted in her rushing to the girls’ bathroom to cry in peace. After her father found her with wet eyes behind their house one night, he told her his secret for getting by: you laugh with them. With time and practice, she was able to fight them off with a chuckle and started to build thicker skin to bare their torment. The words still hurt but she could shrug them off easier until eventually she was able to convince herself that they didn’t even matter at all. And laughter soon became her answer to any situation she felt angry, scared or uncomfortable in. It helped her cope and it let others see her as stronger and unfalliable. 

Addy had already built up her own resistance to ridicule when she caught some boys picking on her brother. Before she could think, she rushed to his aid and shoved away the bullies, proclaiming that if they wanted to hurt him, they would have to deal with her. The boys eventually left, but then Sam blew up at her, knowing that he would only get more shit for having to be protected by his little sister. He demanded that she stay away from him and mind her own business. It was the first time he had ever been truly angry with her and even her apology didn’t heal the rift that began to form between them. 

Fourteen was the age when her parents started to be more strict with her, forcing her to be more ladylike and stop running around the yard. Her less than ideal grades made it clear to them that she wouldn’t have much of a career and thus started to push her to pick up more housework and learn to cook. It didn’t work out the way that they intended. Addy did try, but it was such dull work that she couldn’t help but find ways to make it fun for her. Unfortunately, that tended to make an even bigger mess. To avoid her parents’ disappointment and pressures, she started to stay away from home by spending time with friends and joining her school’s basketball team. It didn’t stop them from pestering her to be serious about her future, but it was easier to ignore when they were already too tired to lecture her. She was a little concerned about what she would do after graduating high school, but, like with most problems, she shrugged it off and bounded toward her next adventure. Her future would be tomorrow’s problem and there’s no use worrying about that when today still had so much to offer.

Despite everything, Addy never did picture her leaving her small town. After finding out that women weren’t allowed to actually fight in the military, she figured she would try to make a life for herself there as a waitress or something of that sort. 

The day Sam ran away from home to go to Los Angeles changed everything for her. The anger on her father's face as he tried to explain how his son planned on throwing everything away to become an actor and the worry emanating from her mother is what pushed Addy to follow him. They weren’t the same as they used to be. He avoided her whenever he could it seemed and she tried her best to let him be. But she knew her brother and the idea of him being alone in a city was enough to inform her parents that she would be there to protect him and to not turn her bedroom into another sewing room while she was gone. When she appeared on the doorstep of the cramped apartment he shared with several other people, he hugged her so tightly, she knew she had made the right call this time. 

She worked at a small diner to help with rent while Sam took on any job he could get his hands on in between auditions. She would go home exhausted but still find the time to help Sam go over his lines for his next audition. There was one they he kept going on about, a role to be the leader of a team of heroes. Addy thought it sounded kind of fun and she helped him get into character by reading the part of a gun toting badass. When it came time for his audition, she decided to tag along because fuck it why not? She had the day off. And when they asked what role she intended to audition for, why not just give the name of the role she had been reading with her brother for the past few days. It didn’t matter anyway since there was no way she’d get the part. 

When she got the callback but Sam didn’t, she could see him break a little. And as she continued to get callbacks and auditions, his jealousy surfaced. The night she was told she got the role was when he let it all boil over: his envy at how father always preferred her over him, how easily she could just talk to people, and she was going to get her big break before him. If it was anyone else she might have fought back, but she let it all happen, unwilling to hurt her brother further. Come morning, all of her things were packed and she was on her way toward the Bureau. 

It was her attitude that earned her the role. The way she stepped into the room without a single fear or care in the world and the way she carried herself. This woman would stand tall no matter what was thrown at her.

The Exemplars:

Addy went into the Exemplars half expecting to hate it. She wasn’t an actress; she only did so well with the audition because she didn’t think they would actually pick her. But as they handed her a gun and told her to fire, she figured it wouldn’t be so bad. When they tossed her in their first mission, she could feel her heart pumping against her chest and the rush of adrenaline took over, giving her a high that only the finest drugs could match. That’s when this went from a job to the best time of her life. 

They called her fearless early on. The way she threw herself into danger and took on what she clearly couldn't handle. Only the incredibly reckless and insanely fearless could manage. They didn’t get that she was scared, sometimes even terrified. But she dealt with those situations the same way she dealt with her anger and hurt as a child: with a laughing smile and the ability to convince herself that everything was fine. In time, that smile turned more genuine. What’s there to be scared of when they’ve fought the terrors of the world and survived? And if they’re going to win anyway, why not have a little fun with it. There was little that Addy wasn’t willing to do, ready and eager to jump at anything tossed her way. 

She considered the term “headache” to be a term of endearment when thrown at her, especially when it came to the Bureau. Addy had lost track of all the times they threatened to write her out or replace her with someone who would actually follow orders and not cost them hundred of thousands of dollars in property damage. Though the swearing seemed to upset them almost as much as the tossing herself into danger without a second thought. “Parents don’t buy toys for their kids if that toy swears,” they would tell her. For a week she tried to censor herself in the way that television does for movies such as saying “muffler hugger” instead of “mother fucker”. And while she did have fun trying to find the most outlandish ways to connect a normal word to a swear word, she did eventually fall off that wagon and went back to her normally programed curse fest.

She definitely said “yipee ki yay motherfuckers” as one of her catchphrases (though she tried to omit the last part when she remembered) and gave a little “whoop” when she heard the phrase used in Die Hard.

Absolutely named each of her guns after famous cowboys and pioneers. Her favorite one was her rifle that she called Oakley, after Annie Oakley. Also her pair of pistols were named Butch and Sundance. Any grenade she threw were called “buffalos”. 

The team was her family, the place where she felt she truly belonged. Despite the trouble that she caused, they seemed to accept her, maybe even love her for it. They were a sense of home she hasn’t felt since she was a child. She’d never really say that she loved them though. No, she showed her love and affection by making sure they weren’t hurt.

She always knew she was made of tougher skin than most. She would take punches and get right back into the fight as if it was nothing. So she had no qualms when it came to tossing herself into harm’s way. She could take it. People like Druid or her brother couldn’t handle that kind of pain or strain to their bodies and if it meant she could keep them from that, she would happily step in the way. 

The only time she ever truly felt guilty for going against orders was when someone else was hurt because of her actions. She tried to minimize casualties when she could, but there was only so much she could do. And when the Bureau tried to tell her to do something reckless on purpose that would result in someone getting her, that’s where she drew her line. 

Life outside of the Bureau was difficult for her, especially with all of the cameras and the invasive questions. Why was everyone always so curious about who she was dating anyway? She was never rude to the people who came up to her to ask for a picture or an autograph but when it came to the interviews, Addy couldn’t put together the right words the way that Babydoll did. However, if she did want to go for anonymity, she found that the easiest way to do so was to wear a dress. For some reason, no one seemed to make the connection.

There was always the assumption that the Exemplars wouldn’t last forever, especially by the end of it. There was the hope that maybe they could have a revival of some sort, but even Addy could read the writing on the wall. And yet, she couldn’t find it in herself to think of what her life might be after. A small part of her assumed that she probably wouldn’t even make it that far anyway. There were still monsters to take out, after all, and who knows what could happen. What’s the point of planning for something that probably will never come to pass.

It was supposed to be her. Addy had always assumed she would be the one to die if a teammate were to fall. She was the one who threw herself into danger, who took the hits the others couldn’t. She /should/ have died countless times already. Pendulum’s loss hit her hard and it left her feeling more lost than she’s ever been. And if that wasn’t enough, she also lost her team--her family--as the Exemplars were disbanded and they disappeared into the wind. Addy didn’t know what to do with herself. She was never supposed to get this far.

The Consequences:

What’s a gun toter supposed to do when there’s nothing left to shoot? She did the only thing she could think of; she went home. After all the years of fighting, adventure, and near death experiences, Wyoming seemed to be more or less the same. Her childhood home was the same as it had always been, down to the creaky floor and mild smell of manure. It was all incredibly boring. Her mother had her help with her sewing, but what else was there to do? It was so quiet, annoyingly so and she couldn’t find the contentment there that she once did. She didn’t stay there long, but long enough to get it in her head that maybe normal wasn’t for her.

She talked to Sam only briefly during her time with the Exemplars, enough to know that she has a niece and two nephews running around Los Angeles. But after leaving Wyoming, she decided to pay him a visit and it almost felt like old times. He told her stories of his life now and she couldn’t help but be happy for him. He didn’t get the career that he wanted, but he found a wife that made him happy and loved his life. It was the first time Addy found herself envious of her brother. Regardless, she decided to move to Santa Barbara to be closer to them.

She did a lot of random jobs after that from dog training to a gun safety teacher to a sky diving instructor. She knew she didn’t have to work, but it was better than being home and bored all the time. Eventually, she found her place at a boxing gym where she spent a lot of her time sparring and teaching younger kids. 

Her body did not appreciate all the strain she had placed on it in her youth and it finally started to get back at her. She had tinnitus which gave her a permanent ringing in her ear, on top of general loss of hearing. She had to get her knee replaced and realized that she would have a permanent limp on her left side. Not to mention, the numerous scars that littered her body or how frequent her headaches seem to be nowadays. She did her best to ignore it--to pretend that everything was fine--but she wasn’t fooling anyone, even herself. 

The only long term relationship Addy was able to keep in that time was with her dogs. Sure, she got married to a handsome man at her boxing gym, but just as quickly as they fell in love, it broke apart. She did have a good relationship with a woman for a while, but once word got out about that and word started to spread, the woman broke it off to avoid any backlash. Beyond that, she had mindless flings and friends to spend the night with. 

She chased after the excitement and adrenaline she once felt with the Exemplars. In those moments, that was the only time she felt truly like herself again. It reached the point where, when the portals started coming, she felt excited. This was it. This was her chance to get back to what she was truly good at. She would finally feel alive again. When the call came, she already had her bag packed.

Misc:

She took piano lessons when she was little and was actually okay with it, when she could settle down enough to actually focus. She still does read music and can play a little, though not nearly as well as she used to.

Her mother taught her how to sew after she kept coming home with holes in her pants. Her mother was a seamstress in the town and hoped that maybe Addy would be able to take over for her once she got too old to do it. While Addy could sew fairly well (the only household chore that she took to), she could never imagine herself cooped up in a room and sewing all day.

Addy was awful in school, except in math. It was the one subject she was able to understand fairly well and it just clicked in her head. If she cared more about her studies, she might have even found some joy in it. That never did happen, but she is still good at doing mental math in her head. 

She is quite the early bird as she used to get up to help her father around the ranch when she was growing up. Now, she usually uses it to go for a run in the morning or go to the gym before it gets too crowded.

[ofdianaes-blog]

DIANA  ARCHIBALD [ VIRGINIA GARDENER ] is a JUNIOR at Broadripple Academy. She is SEVENTEEN years old, from BOSTON, MASSACHUSETTS and has been at Broadripple Academy for HALF A year.

hiya all ! i’m meredith, i’m 18 and i never learned how to fucking read i’m super excited to be here ! feel free to slide into my ims if you want to plot at all, i’m down for whatever and am super excited to get to plotting with you all, and i hope you love/hate my new baby, diana just as much as i do. i’ve included some stuff about her under the cut, as well as some plot ideas i’d like to see. y’all can also message me on discord if you want for easier plotting, i’m meredith#3445

okay, her bio is all the way at the end of this just in case it’s posted on the main by the time i post this and i don’t wanna make anyone suffer through it. if you haven’t seen it, just scroll on down and it should be there for you to learn all about my girl. now for wanted plots/plot ideas ( i’m like, zero percent limited to any of these ) 

BLACKMAIL OR SYMPATHY? THE WORLD IS YOUR OYSTER basically, this plot is someone knowing that diana is a big fat faker. maybe they went to middle school with her, or one of her many different personalities in high school before they both ended up at broadripple. with all the times she’s moved, as long as it was in state ... it might very well be a possibility she knows one person. maybe they read her diary, she keeps it under her mattress. maybe they just caught her mouthing the words to a billboard top 100 song and her cover is blown. who knows! we can sort all that out. this person can either hold this over diana’s head, or they’ll feel bad for her and attempt to show her the ropes of everything and keep her secret on the dl. the first is more fun for me, the second is more fun for diana. your pick. 

YOU’VE_GOT_A_FRIEND_IN_ME.mp3 someone that sees through that pretentious candy shell to the mediocre chocolate that’s beneath. i imagine most people have a low tolerance for when diana gets into one of her real cinema is dead, i was born in the wrong generation moods, but this is the person that sticks by her, reminds her she’s being obnoxious, and she can still listen to the smiths in 2019, no one is stopping her. did they meet in english class, sharing an illicit cigarette, bonding over how diana is always getting a coffee? it’s all up to you, but partners in not really crime is something i’d love to see for her. she gets lonely, y’all. 

RIVALS TO ENEMIES TO RIVALS (100k, F/?) i’m running out of creativity for these plot ideas, okay? anyone who dare insinuate (or outright say) diana is wrong about, ahem, anything, or has poor taste or whatever is bound to be at the receiving end of her wrath. and by wrath, i mean glares across the hallway and the angry writings in her journal. don’t call it a diary, even though it really is, she’ll get mad. if this person wants to share passive aggressive quips and feuds, then ooh boy, is diana the enemy for them. this can be someone who’s uninhibited by her desperation for the cool factor and is just themselves, or someone who thinks she isn’t cool enough. either one will make her skin crawl. 

FILM PROTEGE / HER YOUNG PADAWAN they don’t even necessarily have to be into the same shit she is, or film at all, though they could want her to teach them about shitty foreign films and 80s sadgirl music. if she sees anyone shy or meek or just not with big enough of a personality, she’ll ceaselessly volunteer to show them to the world of not knowing how to shut their damn mouth. god knows that’s the world she’s living in. while she isn’t necessarily a rebel (she always recycles and does her homework), she does partake in habits such as [ gasp ] swearing and the devil’s lettuce. whether this person is shy or just extraordinary strait-laced .... let diana ( holes voice ) fix that 

okay, now her bio is below this line. enjoy !

Though Diana Archibald is indisputably a firecracker, to say she came into the world with a bang would be a bold faced lie. She was born to the archetypical white picket fence, upper middle class family. She donned pink onesies and cooed alongside family pet golden retriever, a friendly, brown-eyed creature named Max — Diana would vomit at how the stereotypes seemed to stack so neatly. Tragedy and betrayal, however, can taint even the most normal of lives, and with her mother’s cancer diagnoses, her father was out the door before she could toddle. Hindered by the cost of medical bills, Elizabeth Archibald, Diana’s partial namesake, withered away into nothing. With her father unable to be located for child support or to take her in, who was once a perfect, porcelain blonde baby doll became red faced and tearful toddler — a ward of the state, sent on the pipeline from foster home to foster home.

Diana was raised on half rewound VHS tapes and scratchy, skipping DVDs that she was shoved in front of to keep her docile and occupied. Her obsession with stories didn’t stop there, as she stumbling through the minimal words in picture books turned into devouring novels with a wind up flashlight under the thick covers of her bunk bed. She saw herself in the pages of protagonists burned by tragic backstories, of boys and girls who rose from the ashes and became strong and willful and exactly who she wanted to be. She wanted nothing more than to satiate the hunger she felt to be like them: to be something. And so, the lies began: carefully crafted, always a new story wherever she went.

The first half of freshman year, she was a bubbly cheerleader in a tiny town on the Connecticut border, where she reeked of bubblegum and painted her nails bright pink in class, doodling the names of the cutest boys in school amongst her math notes. Second half, she was a band geek in Cambridge, with grades imbalanced to direct her towards the arts as she nervously learned to play the clarinet, swapping spit under the bleachers with pimple faced boys who played the drums and frizzy-braided girls in the brass section. The first half of sophomore year she lived in the suburbs of Boston, where she had heavy black eyeliner and a permanent scowl on her face, she recited poetry and wrote her own, deep and dark. She got a stick and poke on her ankle in her best friend’s garage, and shoplifted religiously. Once January hit and she was somewhere else, demanding she was referred to only by her last name. She wore flannel and beanies and refused to speak in class, passing a joint back and forth around in the basement of a senior who looked at her with leering eyes. The first half of her junior year, she was the perfect church girl, her hair always in neat braids and a smile on lightly glossed lips as she perfectly enunciated hymns and messages of peace be with you. A golden cross hung loosely around her neck, and she meticulously frosted cupcakes for the school bake sale and highlighted passages in her bible.

That’s how she supposes, she ended up at Broadripple. After she was shoved out of that town, that school, that family, her newfound love of religion was deemed of enough importance: Diana was a lovely candidate for the philanthropy of Broadripple Academy, and they would be so happy to have her attend. She was used to moving, but not into buildings with ivy covered walls and pleated skirts being added to her wardrobe. The sudden, abrupt change unlike any other had left her floundering for a new personality to latch onto, a new story to spin: until she came up with the best one yet. The perfect story was a story maker, pathological liar turned into filmmaker. Polaroid camera is always tucked into her backpack, and phone is always ready to film. She’s no longer a participant: she’s an observer. Her father was an important producer in Hollywood, she told everyone in her science class. Her mother was a retired soap opera star, but she was just as beautiful as she was in her haydey. No one cared enough to Google, and ambiguities and carefully placed anecdotes were her specialties — it worked. Now, she was the creative, wide eyed and quiet, journaling late into the night and always with a cup of coffee in hand, contraband cigarettes kept in her bottom dresser drawer. She reads classic literature and insists music sounds better on vinyl, carefully critiquing the film taste of her peers.

No matter how carefully crafted, aren’t all ruses bound to end?

and her personality section !

She’s black coffee and vinyl records, she’s the crunch of fall leaves under your shoes and absent sharpie doodles up and down your arm. She’s ballpoint pens and perfume that smells like vanilla, she’s the big glasses perched on her nose that she doesn’t really need, she’s cheeks carefully dusted with blush to make her look kissed by winter air. She’s cinnamon bubblegum and sitting cross legged in the grass, snapping photos of bunnies as they trot between trees.

DISHONEST: There’s an itch that can’t be scratched away, and it’s to tell another lie. One more won’t hurt. She tells herself, in fact, it might just help. She’s lived in Beverly Hills and Brooklyn, she tells them, twirling her hair nervously around her finger. She’s never even left the state.

ASTUTE: There’s no denying Diana is smart. One has to be, to stop themselves from getting tangled in a web of dishonesty. Math and science aren’t specialties of hers, but they still come easily, and her natural flair for artistry and the dramatics has made her an excellent writer and creative student. Good grades are easily achieved, and Diana easily takes notice of things other people try to hide.

SELF-IMPORTANT: Diana does everything better, she’s sure of it. After all, she’s had to put in the research into how exactly to do things right. This new personality of hers only amplifies the airs of betterness she seems to put on — though there’s no cracks shown in confidence, it certainly is a facade.

GREGARIOUS: Even in her quite states, it’s always been easy for Diana to make friends. She’s naturally empathetic, and has no issue molding herself to suit what the conversation needs. She’ll donate to charity or talk shit behind your back — whatever the conversation calls for. She’s a social butterfly that can never seem to settle on a hive, and that leaves most of her relationships at surface level.

[ko-yeop]

Lovecraft: Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Coming Soon

Characters: Saeran Choi x Reader

Word Count: 3,811

Genre: Witchcraft!AU, Slow burn

Summary: After an unfortunate drunken night, you, a fortune teller who was cursed from a young age by an unknown witch, breaks your own creed and read your own fate. Seeing nothing but ruin and isolation in the future, you seek out an apothecary named Saeran, who gives you untested potion called Aphrodite’s Blessing, not for free though. In return, he wishes to study and document it’s effects on you. Can his creation not only save you from fate, but also break your longstanding curse?

Authors Note: I don’t usually care to write multi-chapter fics, but I felt this would be a better format for what I’ve planned out. I greatly appreciate critique, and reading your comments. Let me know what you think!

You could feel each curve of the cobblestone path pressing against the thin sole of your boots. They were worn down, patched to no end, seams parting once again… Not that it really mattered to you. You were destined for a life of solitude, ruin, destruction at your own core. Being a fortune teller, it was your own creed to not read your own fate. You were a medium. A pawn used to relay fate, you weren’t meant to know your own. You never really wanted to anyways, after seeing so many disastrous readings in which the card’s warnings weren’t headed. A few nights ago, in your drunken stupor you thought reading your fate would be a good idea. You were horrifically wrong.

You hadn’t intended to drink so much rum. The bartender was just so whimsical in the way he mixed his concoctions. The way silver strands jostled as muscular arms shook drinks in the same rhythmic way, every time. Maybe you’d thought that if you ordered enough, you’d catch him skip a beat. Maybe that chiseled face, surely crafted by the gods would take you home and ravage you. You swore you could still taste the spice in the back of your throat when you coughed at the chill in the air. Your esophagus burned when you took a swig from the water jug you carried on your hip.

All of this could simply be a physical manifestation of your current mental state though. Plagued with anxiety, you proceeded to shove those like you, wandering hopelessly, aside in the crowded streets. You tugged the wool of your navy cloak tighter around your shoulders, hoping to retain some bodily heat. You thumbed at the white edges, lined with constellations. This was the last gift you’d been presented with by your father before you left home for the big city. The cloak was like the summer night sky, at the last moment before shadows filled the sky in its entirety. It was home to you, a comfort item of sorts. You never wished to part from your dear parents, the only people who’d cared for you all these years, but the village was no place for a fortune teller to find a living. You could only tell the same twenty people the same thing the cards and skies told you so many times. Small towns like yours were a place for those strong enough with their craft to practice elemental magic. To freely cause boulders to rise and be flung about with no worry of guards rushing about, offering threats if one persisted. Elemental magic was still seen as a dubious concept, one that only the rich elite would have access to. However, it was becoming more common knowledge that a gifted student of any class could obtain the ability to practice creating breezes with proper guidance. The outskirts of town could be easily accessed, with no need to walk half the day to reach a far off stream to try to cause the water to bubble and boil, harnessing both fire and water spells. You could often find apothecaries wandering in your town, searching for new foliage, inquiring about preservation methods from those most acquainted with living off the land.

“You there! Prophet!” A ragged voice called from the entrance to his shop. A tailor, by the looks of the sign. “Don’tcha need them raggedy boots patched up? Can’t have someone like yourself lookin’ like yer livin’ off tha streets,” You gazed down at the black suede, knowing fully well they were tattered beyond return.

“No thank you, I have little coin to spare, and am equipped with a needle and thread myself,” The man did not look like the sort you’d trust to repair anything. He was scarred, war torn, and brash. His red beard was caked with dirt, bits of food clinging to the ends.You didn’t believe such chubby, calloused fingers could even hold a needle. It was more likely he was a thief, pretending he owned the shop as he stood in front of the door, taking payments and items from unsuspecting victims until the merchant came to scurry them away. You did not offer the chance for him to reply, simply carrying on your way. You had business to attend to, after all.

It was by chance that the discarded paper ended up in your path. On that treacherous walk home from the pub, it stood in your path like a beacon. Perhaps this was some deity giving you a second chance with your mistake soon to come. “Lovecraft: Potions and Vulneraries” it read in pink lettering. It had been torn at the edges, footprints having left their mark on it, but you still tucked the page in your pocket. Perhaps you knew all along that you’d need it.

The wooden sign creaked in the wind, tugging at its chain links, the peeling paint threatening to join the wind and it’s journeys. Red bricks were chipped, but it certainly had its charm. It was wedged between a bakery and a magical equipment suppliers shop. The thump of tomes being tossed on the counter could be heard through a cracked window pane, coins being tossed into palms and the scurry of yet another mage to be purchasing the essentials. Fresh bread could be smelled in the air, sweeping its way across the street. It warmed your bones. You walked up the steps, lightly dusted with snow, its pristine placing showed no signs of anyone visiting within the past hour. You heard a small chime as you pushed the splintered door open. The heavy floral, herbal scent hit you like a wave. Various coloured bottles lined the shelves, dried basil leaves dangling from the ceiling. Wax candles that spilled over, dripping onto the shop counter flickered at the breeze that drifted in along with you.

“Welcome! What can I help you with?” a voice called out. The man, standing behind the counter fiddling away with the soft petals of a sunflower, turned around. He lowered the burgundy hood on his cloak to reveal a soft, round face, hair as white as the snowflakes flitting about outside, bits of pink clinging to the ends. Perhaps it was some kind of pollen from a flower he utilized? You wondered about how he’d achieved the mix of hair colours, but quickly shoved those thoughts to the back of your head. It wasn’t all that important at the moment. The boy seemed quite young, not much older than yourself, if at all. With his age, he was most likely an apprentice. It was usually men and women in their late teens and older who ran shops, seeing as how the younger generation typically couldn’t afford to start up their own shops.

“I’m looking for the owner of this shop, would he be around perchance?” You questioned. You were always wary of apprentice apothecaries. They had quite a knack for creating potions that backfired in the form of bodily alterations that can’t be undone, using their craft as a guise to create aphrodisiacs that they’d slip into ladies’ drinks at the pubs, having bottles combust because they couldn’t be bothered to check what fumes would be emitted, and how they’d fill the glass until they burst…

“That’d be me,” He pointed to himself, looking slightly dejected. “Were you expecting someone else?”

“I-I’m so sorry!” You blurted. “I’m just used to shop owners being much older, and you look quite young…”

“That’s to be expected,” Placing down the mortar and pestle he’d been using, he walked around the counter, leaning up against the front of it casually. “I...Kind of inherited this place from my teacher, that’s why someone as inexperienced as me is running it,” You could sense that something grave had happened to him by the way the man’s tone dropped.

“Oh… If you don’t mind my asking, what happened to him?” You tried to evade asking him if his teacher had died, point blank. Instead choosing to give him a bone, and let him tell you as much as he wished. It wasn’t exactly polite to be inquiring about such a personal story, but you did wish to know why such a young looking guy was running a shop.

“He passed away a few years ago. The cause was unknown... “ His mint eyes darted down to floorboards, his foot playing with a loose one that was near ready to pop out. “But in his will, he gave everything he owned to me. Shop included. I just decided to keep carrying on practicing what I’d been taught, so here I am, running my own place,”

“I’m so sorry… About your loss, I mean,”

“Thank you for your condolences,” He smiled sadly. You figured his teacher must have been dear to him, seeing as how he acted as though he’d passed away a few weeks ago rather than a few years. “But all that aside, what can I help you with today miss?”

“I’ve… Found myself in a bit of a predicament, you see,” Averting your eyes, you took sudden interest in a stray thread on your cloak. It was embarrassing to tell your story, it was foolish that your answer wasn’t as easy as “go out and make friends”. You’d never been able to form close bonds with anyone who wasn’t family. It wasn’t that you were unkind, or deemed a monstrosity by society, but rather… A lack of connection. There was never any sort of click that went off when you spoke to people. Everyone always seemed at a distance. Civil to you, but it was like you were a minor character in a book. One who appeared for a page or two to fill up a moment, to hurry along the plot, and then you were abandoned by the writer. You were certain it had to do with the curse your parents whispered about in the night. It was only ever bits and pieces that you heard, but you knew the truth, deep down. Someone, somewhere, had cursed you to never find companionship. Not among friends, not among lovers. You could only wish you knew why or whom. It took an exorbitant amount of time and effort to learn how to curse. Anyone who wished to learn how would’ve required a deep seated motivation to curse someone. You never did let your parents know that you knew about this curse. You didn’t want them to feel sorry for you, so instead, you focused on your studies into divination rather than making friends, quickly being able to accel in your field. Taking on the guise of a cheerful studious girl, you were able to ease their worries, if only a little bit.

“I’m a fortune teller you see, and I accidentally read my own fortune, and my fate… Was not good to say in the least,”

“How do you accidentally read your own fate?” He questioned, confusion laced in his voice. Truthfully, it was an odd thing to say. Reading fortunes was a long, drawn out process, not something done with the flick of the wrist.

“I was a drunken mess, and it’s my personal vow to never tell my own future, but, well… Rum really gets to you, doesn’t it?” His face was skeptical, seeming as though he was analyzing your tale for lies.

“So what about your fate?”

“The cards foretold of a horrid future. One where I am alone for eternity, no companions, no family, no lovers. All that awaits me due to my isolation, is ruin at my own core.” You truthfully wished that this was a jest by the gods, however, cards did not lie. This, you strongly believed, was a warning. “I don’t wish to succumb to a fate like this, so I was wondering if there was perhaps a potion of some sort that could help me?”

“You’re an odd one, you believe in fate, yet you think it can be changed?” You’d piqued his interest. Why would someone who practices divination say the complete opposite of where their beliefs should lie?

“Destiny is not absolute.” You could go on for hours about your thoughts on fate, but you didn’t want to bore him with your long winded explanations. He nodded at this, you weren’t sure if it was of acceptance of your answer, or agreement.

“I might have something, give me a moment,” Turning his back to you, he walked into a nearby backroom, leaving you by yourself while he sifted through glass bottles. Grasping a nearby vulnerary, you examined it’s bring blue contents. An scrawled label read “Bane of Phobetor”. Carefully popping the cork, you sniffed at it’s contents. It smelled of the sickly sweet cough syrup your mother used to give you as a child, the kind that stuck in your throat, and you could taste with every swallow. Just what was this for? How much was it? This boy had a lot to learn about running a shop if he couldn’t even attach price tags and descriptions to the oddly named vials. You shook your head, sending melting snow flying off your cloak.

“Here it is!” The boy emerged with a heart-shaped bottle in hand. It was filled with a bright pink colour. The dim candle light caught on the glass, reflecting it in your direction. “This is one I’ve been working on for some time now, it’s called Aphrodite’s Blessing.” He shook the bottle gently, swirling it’s contents about. “I’m warning you though, it hasn’t been properly tested on anyone yet,” You weren’t sure how to feel, taking an untested potion. By an unexperienced apprentice who had his shop given to him by his deceased teacher, no less. But was this your only hope to save yourself?

“What’s the intended effect?” You inquired.

“I designed it to draw love and companionship to the user, a love potion, essentially.”

“So what, I’m supposed to take this and prince charming will pop up out of nowhere and save my pathetic soul for eternity?” As silly as his explanation sounded, you were desperate. You’d already sought counselling, you’d spoken to those in your field about your predicament, and none could offer any help. Would this be powerful enough to combat the curse you were bestowed upon? You’d heard of certain potions being taken daily to combat effects of a curse, but overcoming your own would depend on the unknown strength of the curse, and the apothecary’s potion.

“Not quite,” He laughed. “I created it out of accident. I was originally trying to create something that would bring my long lost twin brother back to my side, but I found the creation seemed to show promise of helping new relationships form well.”

“I thought you said it hadn’t been tested, so how did you come to that conclusion?”

“I tested the original formula on myself, but since then, I’ve done some alterations. I changed the intention to focus on helping the lonely souls of the world rather than trying to bring people back,”

“I see…” Oddly enough, he didn’t seem to bear any ill will. His aura was not malicious in the slightest. You were at your wits end, and even though you were wary, it didn’t seem like you had much a choice in the matter. You were doomed if you didn’t take it, so might as well try your luck with taking it.

“How much?”

He was a bit taken back, startled that you’d try it. He was expecting a solid no, and for you to carry on your way.

“Um...Actually, I can give it to you for free, for a favour,” It had to be a hefty kind of favour in return for the cure-all that you were about to receive, you thought.

“What kind of favour?”

“I’d like to study the effects of this on you so I can properly document its properties,” A reasonable request, after all, he said this batch hadn’t been tested. You would help him in his craft, and if this potion worked, you wouldn’t face a future of loneliness. “You’d just need to stop in a few times a week so I can record any changes to you,” This bargain wasn’t sounding too bad at all. And you’d get to see him again, he was kind of cute, you had to admit.

“I’ll do it...” You muttered.

“A-Are you sure? You don’t need to if you don’t want to,” He stumbled over his words, worrying he’d pressured you into making a decision in his favour. As eager as he was, he didn’t wish you to do something you weren’t comfortable with.

“No, this is my only chance at obtaining happiness. I want to try it,”

“Alright.” Placing the vial in your palms, he began to recite a list of instructions. “Ingest this once daily, if you can use a rose quartz spoon that would be best for enhancing the intention. Don’t mix it with other vulneraries, as we don’t know the effects yet. Stop taking it if you feel there’s something wrong, and let me know immediately. I have other potions for healing purposes should something go haywire,” You nodded, trying to mentally jot down the grand list of things to remember.

“So when would you like me to stop by again?”

“Maybe in two or three days? That should be enough time for the effects to begin.”

“Alright then, I shall see you soon then, um… What is your name, by the way?”

“It’s Saeran. Saeran Choi. Yours?” You gave him your name, and smiled as it rolled off his tongue. “Good to meet you miss, well, enjoy the rest of your day,” You waved as you opened the door to the brisk temperatures, braving them once again. You hugged the bottle tightly to your chest as if to protect it from the chill. You raced home, dodging the people scuttling about the streets.

Quickly, you shut the wooden door behind you, locking out the frigid cold. You placed Aphrodite’s Blessing on your nightstand, watching as condensation formed on the outside. A gentle finger swiping at the droplets, as if brushing away its tears. You finally, finally had some hope to save yourself. Far too long had you lived a lonely life, only thankful that the curse was not strong enough to shake the bonds you held with your parents. If the curse couldn’t totally isolate you, that meant this potion might be strong enough to overcome it. Maybe you’d find comfort in the arms of the bartender, perhaps that sweet lady with the glasses at the bank would look your way more than once, who knew what could be around the corner if this worked?

You began sifting through a drawer to find that rose quartz spoon you knew you had. It was quite common to have a few crystal utensils these days, they were useful for things such as enchantments and basic magic practice of any type. You thought it was wonderful that the common folk had learned enchantments, and that they’d become widely known to all. It was one of the simplest forms of witchcraft, and finally it was being taught to those who weren’t among the elite.

“Ah, there it is,” You tugged it from underneath an old altar cloth. Taking it to your sink, you quickly rinsed it of any dust.

The cork made a pop as you opened it. The smell of the concoction was sickly sweet, an overwhelming floral scent. You could smell the rosehip, the violet, the basil, all his ingredients mixing together. Tentatively, you poured a small amount into the spoon. It had the viscosity of a light syrup, but didn’t seem to be sticky. It was rather oily, as your rubbed a small amount between your thumb and index finger. You gulped down the spoonful, not trying to savour it’s taste. It wasn’t necessarily bad, but you weren’t a fan of barely flavoured cheap bubblegum. You weren’t sure if the slightly buttery taste was from a pollen, or if it was added to make the potion more bearable to drink, but nonetheless, you appreciated that Saeran had tried to add some more favourable flavours to it.

You sat, as if waiting for some form of instantaneous change. In the back of your mind however, you knew change would take it’s time, and all you had to do was go about your life and let Saeran record any changes. You did admit though, you felt a little warmer inside. Was it the excitement? The fear of the unknown? It was hard to say.

After placing your cards and gems on the windowsill to charge under the moonlight, you tucked yourself underneath the heavy quilt, eager to wake tomorrow and begin witnessing the change to come.

“Dear child, you know this won’t work,” Your head turned abruptly in the direction of the voice. “I am darkness itself, why do you think his potions will cure you?”

“Who are you?” You called out. You could only see a silhouette, a dark, toxic aura emanating from the person.

“Darkness, did I not already state that? But you, oh, such a sweet, foolish child of mine… You’ll soon see why your fate was such. The tower is not always such a bad card to pull.”

“Reveal yourself! What do you know about me?” You screamed, too afraid to take a step towards the figure. Why did they know your fate, and how did they know one of the cards you pulled?

“Why would I do that? My fun would end all too soon. I’ll enjoy seeing you put together these pieces my silly child,”

“What are you talking about?”

“Me. You. The apothecaries. We’re all connected, you’ll see. And you, you’ll be my finest child yet. You’ll see. Good luck out there, darling,” The figure offered you no chance to respond, to inquire any more. Waving a bleak hand, you found yourself staring at the ceiling, sunlight pouring through your window.

You grabbed the notebook sitting beside you, scribbling down anything you could remember from your dream. Hand, something about Saeran, total darkness, a child…. Whatever this was, you’re sure it had a deeper meaning. Dreams often could be used in divination, but this… Was so vivid. Could it be a side effect of Aphrodite’s Blessing? Is there someone trying to tell you something? Your subconscious? Only time and a consultation with your local potions dealer could tell. You placed the pen down, feeling the dream fading away from your memories, your consciousness becoming more aware of reality. You tried to forget the feeling of panic coursing through you, that the reasoning for became less and less clear as you woke. It was just a dream, right?

Well, it was time for another dose of the potion anyways.

[imaginekpoplikethis]

7 Years - BadBoy! Jeon Jungkook X Reader - Part 19

I had writers block towards the end so sorry if it seems a little off.

On another note, we have one last part left. One. I can't believe it went so fast. I'm going to miss writing for this story.

If you guys have any final requests for what you'd like to see in the final part let me know. The length of the final part will depend on how much I need to write about.

Thanks for staying with this story guys. 

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4  Part 5  Part 6  Part 7  Part 8  Part 9  Part 10.1  Part 10.2  Part 10.3  Part 11  Part 12  Part 13  Part 14  Part 15  Part 16  Part 17  Part 18  Part 19 - Here  Part 20 - Final

Days turned into weeks and you soon found yourself on the brink of the end of your last year in school. You had spent all the previous weeks attending library study sessions with Areum and occasionally Hye Mi, as surprising as that is. Your entrance exams had ended long ago however you still made an effort to finish your school year with the best grades you could possibly achieve.

Now that you reached the end of said school year, you found yourself worrying more about what your future held for you. If the universities you wished to attend didn't accept you, where would you go? Jungkook stumbled upon you whilst you were pondering this and quickly dragged you out of your thoughts.

"You're really going to spend the last school week freaking out?" You attempted to smile at him but it instead resembled a grimace and he sighed. He took his usual seat in front of you and rested his face on his palm.

"This week is the week you have to remember the most, loads of things will happen. For example." He pointed towards the doorway of your classroom and in came a face you hadn't seen in quite some time.

Jin Soo.

He strolled in, hands in his pockets and a guilty look spread on his face. He stood before you beside Jungkook and kicked the ground before breaking the silence he had caused.

"I didn't mean to hurt you all those years back, I genuinely liked you. I'm just a jerk though and you definitely didn't deserve what I put you through. I'm sorry." Shocked wasn't the word to describe how you were feeling. Although, you shouldn't have been since Jungkook seemed to be a guardian angel or something along those lines. You knew this was all his work.

"It's fine. I don't want to leave in bad terms, just forget about it. I haven't thought about it in months." Jungkook noticeably smirked at your last comment. He knew he was the reason you hadn't.

Jin Soo didn't smile, he simply nodded his head and pulled a hand out of his pocket, placing it on your shoulder.

"That's great. I'll probably see you around... see you later." You waved to him as he set on his way back to his classroom. When he was out of sight, you snapped your eyes to Jungkook who was now leaning back into the chair, arms folded and a smile dancing on his lips.

"What did you do?" Shrugging his shoulders, he pushed himself up off his seat and glanced towards the door.

"Nothing. Nothing at all." He lifted a hand in greeting to Taehyung, who was now standing at the entrance of the class and bent down to give you a peck on the cheek.

"I'll see you tomorrow." He then sauntered out of the door whilst Taehyung gave you a big grin before disappearing with him. It wasn't uncommon for Jungkook to ditch class; he did so almost every month. However, ditching on the last week made almost no sense at all considering the mini speech he had decided to give you.

You decided not to dwell on it. As long as he wasn't getting into serious trouble then you weren't all that concerned for his safety. Jungkook could most certainly take care of himself, that you knew for sure.

As the school day progressed you found yourself having one sided conversations with Areum. She seemed to be down however, whenever you asked her what was on her mind, she would give you a weak smile and reassure you that everything was fine. You had thought that by the next day she would have returned back to her shy yet joyful self but if anything she seemed to have become even more consumed in sadness.

By Wednesday morning, you had had almost enough of silently watching your friend hide her pain and decided to pester her until you broke her resolve. It turned out her resolve was far more stronger than you thought as she hadn't given you the slightest clue as to what was wrong by the end of the day. When the time came to part ways, she stood a few seconds longer, opening and closing her mouth as if she wanted to say something but then decided against it and waved at you. You watched her slowly make her way down the road until she was out of sight.

You had absolutely no idea what was on her mind and reflecting on the past few days was no help at all. The only noteworthy things you could think of was the amount of people who had stopped by your class to apologise to you for brief, rude interactions you had. However, these had nothing to do with Areum which made you feel even more lost.

There were only two days left and you were determined to make her open up.

-

The next day you spotted her walking alone behind the school at lunch time and you jogged to catch up. When you reached her, you pounced on her back causing her to stumble forward a few steps.

"Hey Areum! What's up?" When she turned around, your eyes widened at her slightly puffy red eyes and without much thought, you wrapped her in a tight hug, gently patting her head.

"What jerk made you cry? I'll beat their ass!" She giggled into your shoulder and you mentally patted yourself on your back for managing to make her laugh.

"I guess you're going to have to beat my parents asses then..."

That was most certainly not what you were expecting to hear.

Minutes later, you found yourself sitting down on the steps leading to the schools court, sipping on a carton of juice. Areum had remained silent, staring at the students playing basket ball. When you had finished your juice, you decided then was the time to pry.

"Sooo... what did your parents do?" She continued staring straight ahead and took a deep breath through her nose before slowly releasing it. You knew you had to prepare yourself for what she was about to tell you in the next few moments but you were sure no amount of time could have prepared you.

"I... I'm moving." Her voice wavered and it was obvious she was holding in tears. You felt a pang in your chest when her words left her mouth and you gave her a strained smile.

"That's fine. What part of town?" She never once looked at you; choosing to continue staring at the now cheering students.

"I'm not moving- ah shit! I promised myself I wouldn't cry in front of you." It was extremely rare to hear Areum curse, she hated to do so. When the curse word escaped her, tears started to slide down her face and her lip began trembling.

"Areum...?"

"My parents are making me study abroad. I'm moving out of the country." Your smile had still been plastered on your face at this point, twitching at the corners. Areum moving was something that had never crossed your mind. Deep down you had always had the childish hope that you would remain good friends for the rest of your life, maybe even live near each other at some point.

"Tha-that's fine. We'll just continue video calling each other. It doesn't mean we have to stop being friends." Areum was still refusing to look at you although you soon realised she did not have to judging by her next words.

"If it's fine... if it's fine why're you crying?"

Crying? You were crying?

Reaching a hand up to your face, you gently touched your cheek and glanced at your now wet fingers.

Would you look at that? You were crying.

"A-Areum. It's truly fine. Don't cry." How hypocritical of you to say when you were sitting right beside her with that same stupid smile on your face, tears streaming down your cheeks.

"You don't cry! You idiot I'm only crying because you are!" You choked back a laugh, shoving her gently.

"Hey! You started crying first you little baby!" She sniffled and for the first time since you sat down, she looked at you, a smile stretching onto her face.

"But all jokes aside, let's stay friends okay? I'll be back in two years, three max." You pinched her cheek affectionately, pursing your lips at her.

"Dummy, that goes without saying. You can't get rid of me that easily. You're the one who saved me from this cruel school and its students." The isolation you had gone through back when you had had to endure the teasing and taunting caused by Jin Soo was almost too much to handle in school.

"Stop saying that! It makes me seem like some hero or something."

She would never know how grateful you were but then again, she probably didn't need to know.

-

After you had both shed a few more tears, you headed to the bathroom to freshen up and then back to your respective classrooms. Upon entering the room, you were surprised to find Jungkook sitting in his own seat for once. You hadn't seen him since the morning he decided to ditch class and you were not expecting to see him turn up halfway through the day. When you reached his desk, he diverted his full attention to you and shot you a sympathetic smile.

"I guess she told you then?" Nodding your head, you say yourself down on his desk, gazing outside the window. "She told you first?"

"Naturally she needed advice on how to tell you. I told her to be upfront about it." You were thankful for that, something you seemed to be quite a lot recently.

"Well, I have some good news if you want to hear it?" Good news was what you needed right about now. "Hit me."

"We met the president of an entertainment company, Bang Si Hyuk. He said that we just have to make the final cut, show what we're capable of." You had never felt as proud in your life as you did then. Although he didn't outwardly show how excited he was, the way Jungkook's eyes lit up gave it all away. You all but threw yourself forward, throwing your arms around him while he done the same, squeezing you against his body.

"Jungkook, that's so amazing!" He chuckled and continued to hold you for a few moments longer. That is until something caught his attention.

"Wait, are you crying?"

"No."

Why you were so emotional today, you would never know. "Yes you are! I didn't know my girl would be this happy for me."

"You must be a special type of stupid if you thought I wouldn't be this happy for you." The distant chatter of your classmates caused you to slowly release your grip on Jungkook and you slid off his desk, wiping a few stray tears.

"Why're you making me cry? What kind of boyfriend are you?" You playfully hit his shoulder and he released a chuckle, his grin growing wider.

"I hope to god that you didn't wear those same Timberlands and that white t-shirt when you met him. Just because you look good in them doesn't mean you should wear them every chance you get." Your reply was a scoff and he rolled his eyes, leaning back into his seat.

"Don't worry I looked great. I even wore these." He proceeded to pull out the glasses you had bought him on your trip to Japan and put them on. You failed at suppressing your laughter as he began to pose for you, winking and blowing out his cheeks.

"You're such a dork, you're lucky I love you." His eyes widened briefly, possibly due to the fact that you had openly expressed with words your love for him, something that was quite rare, especially in school. He soon overcame his shock and let his trademark grin grow, his crescent shaped eyes taking on a squinted look.

"I love you too." You were sure the butterflies that fluttered in your stomach would never cease to make an appearance whenever he said those simple words but then again, where was the fun in not having them?

One more day. Just one more day.

[binancydrew]

top 5 and bottom 5 kudos fics

tagged by @clarkescrusade, and i guess this sounds fun so why not. thanks boo.

rules: tag the person who tagged you, always post the rules, answer the questions, and add the date!

What are your five most popular works? (in descending order)

1. bound by the secrets we share | bellarke, 48k, E, completed 1/25/16

"Clarke, hi," he muttered, his face scrunched up in frustration as he finally managed to release the button, breathing in a large gulp of air.

They had only met a handful of times, twice before the match (both surprise guard inspections), and two more times since then.

She managed to twitch her mouth into a small smile. “You having a hard time breathing, too?”

Bellamy let out a choked laugh. “Yeah.”

Clarke nodded. “I’m nervous.”

Bellamy pulled his lips into a tight line. “It’ll be fine.”

The official stepped out into the hall and told them it was time to begin, Bellamy and Clarke exchanged a wary look. Bellamy held out his hand and Clarke slipped hers into his slightly clammy grasp and she trailed behind him into the room.

my biggest and longest endeavor. it took me a whole year from beginning to end. i struggled through re-writes and lack of inspiration, and i grew tremendously as a writer throughout the process. but it is the thing i am most proud of completing and i am happy that so many people loved it and encouraged me through it. 

2. teacher's pet | bellarke, 16k, E, completed 7/14/15

As soon as she arrived at the school, the office pointed her in the direction of her son’s second grade class and she knocked as she pushed open the door.

“Mr. Blake?” She said, pushing into the room. “I’m--”

“Clarke?”

Clarke nearly tripped over the rug. Lex was sitting in the front row of the classroom, just to the right of the teachers desk where sat none other than the illusive Just Bellamy.

“Fuck,” Clarke whispered.

Lex whipped around, gaping at her.

“Oh my god, sorry, baby.” Clarke pleaded with her child.

Bellamy cleared his throat, and Clarke dragged her gaze painfully back to his. No, no, no. Please don’t be my sons teacher. “I’m Mr. Blake.” Oh my god, I fucked my sons teacher.

hahahahaha, this started out as a two-shot and the response was SO intense i ended up turning it into a full blown fic. there were lots of little chapters, snapshots into the story. probaby some of the best smut i’ve ever written. it’s fun, and my wheelhouse, so i enjoyed this one a lot.

3. baggage claim | bellarke, 20k, M, completed 5/25/15

“You look a little young to be a doctor, Mrs. Griffin.” Bellamy joked.

Clarke blushed, “It’s just miss, and yeah, I get that a lot.” She had her arms folded across her chest as she leaned against the door. He had a lean build, messy dark curls (in a good way) and a medley of freckles across the bridge of his nose and cheekbones. He had a funny way of pursing his lips when he smiled that kind of made her weak. It was an understatement to say he was handsome.

He had picked up his suitcase and dragged it behind him out into the hallway.

“Hang on, let me grab yours.”

“Oh, no, I can come--”

“No, no, please, let me.”

Clarke hung back in the doorway and she watched the man stroll back to his own room, disappearing into it for just a short moment. He came back into sight with her own belongings and she let out a deep breath with a smile.

He noticed how her eyes got real bright when she smiled, and he noticed the small gap between her two front teeth and the cute dimple in her chin. And he definitely noticed that she was the perfect height to fit against his own… not that he was… thinking about… that.

“Well, what a fun adventure this has been.” Clarke said, moving the bag just inside the door.

Bellamy nodded in agreement, “It was nice to meet you doc.” He took a small step backwards, smiling, before shoving his hands in his pockets and returning to his room. Once he was back in the quiet of his room, he grabbed a wad of clothing from his bag and headed for the bathroom. He indulged in a quick shower to freshen up before he headed down to the bar, feeling relieved to finally be rid of the stiff suit he’d been stuck in all day.

ah classic airport luggage switchup. this started out as a oneshot, and then i got crazy. it’s hard for me to read back because i think the writing was pretty weak, especially in the beginning. it was one of the first things i ever started writing. but it’s fun and a little silly so.

4. home is where the heart is | bellarke, 30k, M, completed on 9/8/14

“I’d be just fine on the couch.” She stepped closer.

“I’m sure you would, but you’ll probably get a better nights sleep if you sleep in the bed.”

“Why don’t we share?”

Clarke was surprised at the words coming out of her own mouth, only inches from Bellamy, heat radiating between them. “Oh?” Bellamy brought his hand to Clarke’s face, her skin soft under his calloused palm.

Tension dangled between them. She’d be gone tomorrow. What could it hurt. They both needed a release, a comfort, whatever you want to call it.

my very first full blown fic. i am still very proud of this. completing this was not easy, and it was such a learning experience. it’s terrifying to share something you created with the world, and i was so happy about the response and encouragement i got from it. my little southern small town au baby,

5. a kiss is a secret which takes the lips for the ear | bellarke, 1453, G, posted 12/6/14

"What?" Clarke demanded.

"Uh, what, what? What the hell was that?"

Clarke raised an eyebrow, “What was what?” She looked around innocently.

"You just kissed Bellamy!"

"No, I didn’t!" Clarke exclaimed.

"Uh, yeah, you totally did."

Clarke got quiet, “Oh, my god.”

"Yeaaah," Raven tittered.

haha, i think this was a prompt, and probably posted before 12/6 because i was weird about cross posting for awhile. this, i think, got a lot of notes on tumblr. maybe one of my first viral tumblr fics. it was a really cool feeling and i still adore this fic.

What are your five least popular works by kudos? (in ascending order)

1. Stronger in the Contrast | bellarke, 2.2k, T, posted 10/27/16

“That’s a lot of rations.” She’s frowning. “You realize this is a day trip.”

He huffs, tipping his head towards her. “A lot can happen in a day.”

Remember what happened the day Charlotte died. Jumped off a cliff.

Bellamy slams his eyes shut.

All because you told her to slay her demons.

“Bellamy?” Clarke’s voice sounds far away, tugging at his consciousness. He jerks back to attention. “What’s going on with you?”

lol, i hated writing this and i hated how it turned out. bff halloweek fill.

2. Endurance: Mecha | gen/bellarke, 65k, T, completed 7/31/16

[Camera pans over a dense forest that opens out onto a rugged coastline, crystal waters lapping at the sand and zooms in on a man clad in a blue and yellow Hawaiian-print shirt walking along the shore]

Marcus Kane: Right now ten guys and ten girls from all across the country are about to embark on a journey of a lifetime. They will be isolated from their friends and families and put to the test. These twenty kids will see if they have both the ability and the Endurance to overcome obstacles to achieve a goal. As this group of strangers makes their way across the sea, they must mentally prepare themselves to have their courage, strength and stamina tested.

[Camera pans to a boat skimming across rugged water, a lanky boy with disheveled brown hair and a goofy smile leans on the edge of the boat]

this was my absolute favorite project i’ve ever done. i actually wrote it with @clarkescrusade. i am sad it never gained the traction we were hoping for. we even presented it like a tv show and had an interactive blog and everything. oh well, i still do and always will adore this project with all my heart.

3. that you just might | bellarke, 1694, T, posted 12/17/15

“How’ve you been?” Clarke laughs at his attempt to make small talk.

“We live together, Bellamy.”

i think this was for a ss and i copped out and just built on a drabble i had already written. it was fine and cute. nothing revolutionary.

4. Feel The Love In The Room | bellarke, 2k, posted 12/21/15

“Ready for presents?” Bellamy asks, raising an eyebrow.

“I never am.” Clarke smiles at him.

a christmas fill for the bellarke advent calendar i think? it was silly and cute, again, not very revolutionary.

5. a little more touch my body | feyrhys, 5k, abandoned on 8/23/16

In an instantaneous decision Feyre turns her head, capturing Rhys’ lips with her own. He lets out a surprised yelp before relaxing into it. It true fashion, Rhys makes a show of tangling one hand in her hair and settling the other on her hip, tugging her in closer.

The kiss is innocent enough at first, a firm, chaste pressure, though Feyre is certain she can almost taste the whiskey. She can’t help but let out a soft moan when Rhys slips the tips of his fingers beneath the hem of her top, thumb rubbing along the soft skin above her waistband.

Feyre makes another split second decision and slides her tongue along the seam of his lips, and he opens for her eagerly. The noise around them seems to dull, and her ears now roar, blood rushing through her, electricity humming through every vein in her body. Rhys’ hand travels around her midsection, his palm pressing flat against the small of her back.

Rhys’ spins the stool towards her, and Feyre steps in between his legs. He drops the hand from her hair and places it on her hip as well. Her hands grasp at his shirt and she takes another step closer, their bodies flush.

my first real attempt at writing something non-bellarke. it was fun and smutty. i kind of lost interest. but the fandom was small but it was well received!

anyways, thanks annie. that was fun. i can continue to cringe at all my bad writing my afar now. too lazy to tag anyone else. or maybe @yalenayardeen and @ofhobbitsandwomen i guess, if you want.

[cineresis]

Prompt from twitter: Talon + a deafening sound. From this meme. Warning for child abuse, self-harm ideation, and suicidal ideation.

They said the Owl of Gotham stole people away in the night.

Dick knew what it meant when they said something. It meant that you could trace the knowledge back from person to person to person who had all thought it was worth sharing, who had all heard it from someone they knew and trusted enough to give the benefit of the doubt, from Marco the knife-thrower to Sally the clown to Sally’s cousin to Sally’s cousin’s best friend’s uncle from Gotham’s oldtown, all the way back until the source of the knowledge disappeared into history. You could tell information was probably reasonably trustworthy when it was written down and you knew where it came from and whether the writer was smart and honest. But it was the things people didn’t write down but that they passed on anyway that were most important. Things like how and why to be respectful, and how to sucker people, and how to keep your balance on a highwire without getting vertigo, and what to do when someone in the circus died, animal or human.

They weren’t really clear on what happened to the people the Owl took away. Luna Alba, the psychic, said that those the Owl didn’t bring before the law were spirited away to his (its?) court, where he (it?) put them under his thrall forevermore. Sally said his cousin’s friend’s uncle had known someone who saw the Owl snatch some poor schmuck who’d wronged him back to his nest, where (the uncle’s acquaintance claimed) the Owl ate them. Haly said the same victim had no doubt been chopped up and dumped in the river or buried in concrete, because the Owl was just a man who’d gone dark like any other lord of Gotham’s underworld. Which Sally said couldn’t be right, because the Owl always left a sign when he took someone so people would know to follow his rules and pay his tithes, and if he left evidence behind someone would find the bodies. At which point Annamaria, Marco’s assistant, pointed out that how would anyone know if he took someone and didn’t leave any sign other than their disappearance?

(Dick remembered thinking that the person the Owl had taken would know, but he didn’t say it aloud because it wasn’t a particularly clever observation and that wasn’t what Annamaria meant, anyway.)

Dick’s mouth tasted like blood.

He could hear, vaguely, over the sound of his pulse pounding in his ears, the barely-audible scrape of footsteps against the stone floor. Dick tried to get up, but his body wouldn’t respond. A flash of primal fear, sharper and more fundamental than the pall of imminent dread he’d grown used to until it nested deep inside his very bones, flashed through him – a broken spine, neck twisted at an impossible angle, lying helpless and immobile on the ground. Just as swiftly, he shoved it back down into his hindbrain where it belonged. If he’d broken his neck, everything wouldn’t hurt so much.

The footsteps stopped beside him and Dick struggled even more urgently to move. If he couldn’t – if he couldn’t even do something as simple as standing up –

“Can you feel your fingers and toes?” Owlman asked.

The first time he’d heard the Owl’s voice, Dick had thought it was exactly what a ghost should sound like, if Gotham’s spectre was indeed a ghost. Hollow and quiet and resonant, somehow able to find the gaps in your mind and grip them like a grapnel until it filled your skull from edge to edge with no room for anything else. A question like that should sound inherently ridiculous in a voice that spooky. It didn’t. It sounded like a threat. (It was a threat. Everything Owlman said was a threat, even if he wasn’t stating the threat aloud.)

Dick tried to respond. Instead of words, the sound that slipped out between his lips was inarticulate, a half-voiced sob of what little breath hadn’t gotten knocked out of him, practically a whimper. Something inside him cringed in horror and before he could embarrass himself further he gasped for enough air to say, “Nn-hnn.”

That…was almost an affirmative.

“Can you move them?” Owlman asked.

Dick tried. After a moment, his fingers twitched, and he flexed and straightened them before dragging them back into clenched fists. It didn’t hurt as much as he was expecting. He’d scraped the hell out of his hands and torn calluses off before, and he still wasn’t used to the way gloves took some of the pressure off his own skin to stay intact against impact and friction. Having achieved that minuscule success, he did his best to wiggle his toes inside his boots. “Mhm,” he managed. God, his ribs hurt.

Before Owlman could say anything else or get impatient with him, Dick pushed himself up to his hands and knees – his left elbow twinged all the way to his wrist in the process, but at least it didn’t feel broken – and then forced himself nearly to standing before he placed his foot wrong, felt his ankle twist under his weight, and landed right back on his ass. Great going, Talon. Witness the last of the Flying Graysons: he’s beauty, he’s grace, he’s falling on his stupid face.

Owlman stared coldly down at him for a moment, then looked up at the obstacle course around and above them. Deliriously, Dick wondered if fate would be merciful enough for the ground to suddenly open up and swallow him. He wouldn’t have fallen if he hadn’t been trying to avoid a barrage of stun rounds – he shouldn’t have fallen even then – he’d never fallen like that from a simple aerial course unless he was trying some complicated new maneuver, and even then he knew how to recover by now, but his grappling hook had glanced off a stalactite and caught on nothing and by then it was too late to tuck and roll –

“It seems that twenty-six hours awake was too much for you.” Owlman looked in his direction again, and it was only months of relentless training and the bedrock-certain knowledge that it would just piss him off more that kept Dick from flinching. “Clean yourself up and take a nap. You’ll try again in four hours.” He turned away in succinct dismissal.

Dick’s vision was blurring and his breathing was wrong, static prickling in his fingers and toes and creeping up his limbs. He wasn’t even capable enough to be worth yelling at. At least if Owlman had hit him it would mean he thought Dick would learn from it.

“Please.”

He didn’t realise he’d said it until it was out of his mouth, whiny and wretched. He froze as Owlman stopped, then slowly turned and took a step back toward him. “Please what?” Owlman asked softly.

“Please—” His voice was perfectly even, his face blank as marble, as if showing any expression would make it crack and shatter. “Let me try again.”

“Why?” The question echoed through the cave like a cell door swinging shut. Dick contemplated cutting his tongue out so he’d never say anything stupid ever again. It would probably just get him in more trouble for hurting himself without permission.

“I’ll do it right this time. I know what I did wrong.”

“What makes you think you could accurately fire a grappling hook after falling twenty feet if you couldn’t before?” It was a very calm question. Very reasonable. Very matter-of-fact in how completely it demonstrated that Dick had the intellect of a five-year-old who hadn’t yet learned how cause and effect worked, hadn’t yet learned not to argue with people who knew better, couldn’t yet comprehend shutting his mouth instead of saying things he should already know were illogical. Maybe he could kill himself, if he weren’t more afraid of Owlman than of dying, and if he weren’t utterly certain that Owlman would make him suffer more than he ever could just from dying, whether or not he succeeded. And he was too scared of dying, anyway.

(If he hadn’t been, maybe he could have told someone about the Owl before his parents fell. Except that he wasn’t sure he would have even if he hadn’t known he’d be hunted down and made an example of for it, because when he’d seen that deeper shadow moving in the shadows of the big top, he hadn’t just been scared, he’d been excited, he’d felt like he’d been given a chance to see something special that no one else would ever get, and he’d looked up into the glint of owl-eye lenses and promised aloud that he wouldn’t breathe a word to anyone else. And then Owlman had smiled at him.

So Dick probably deserved to die, which meant that any decision he made himself was the last thing he should do. At least his life could benefit someone as long as he didn’t make any choices ever again.

Except that he wasn’t even good for that, as it turned out.)

When he didn’t answer, Owlman bent and took Dick by the collar. Dick couldn’t help twitching back slightly as the hand approached his throat, expecting Owlman to choke him or beat him into the floor, but all he did was pull Dick to his feet and hold him there so he wouldn’t fall again. “Get cleaned up and take a nap,” he said again, emphasising each word individually in case Dick hadn’t understood the first time. Before Dick’s sluggish thoughts could catch up to what was happening, Owlman swatted him across the face, dispassionately, like disciplining him was a mildly distasteful but necessary task. Dick hit the floor on his hands and knees, ears ringing. “Don’t make me repeat myself again.”

Not trusting his voice, Dick looked up at Owlman and nodded, just once, precise and professional. (Owlman always liked that, anyway. He’d made it clear that he didn’t think anyone should speak unless they had something worth saying.)

Owlman turned and walked away without further acknowledgement. As soon as he was out of range, Dick bolted for his quarters, not waiting for his breathing to settle down enough that he could see straight.

Maybe he could get better. At least he’d been given the chance to try.

[biofunmy]

‘Game of Thrones’ Series Finale Recap: All Hail King Who?

Season 8, Episode 6, ‘The Iron Throne’

In the end, “Game of Thrones” was about blowing up the game of thrones.

At times Sunday’s series finale rendered this literally, as when the Iron Throne itself, the inspiration for most of the terrible things we’ve seen over eight seasons, was grief-torched by Drogon after Jon Snow killed its mom.

More thematically, the show that has been broadly about a society’s transition from murderous, dysfunctional dynastic rule and entitlement politics to a more collectivist model consummated that concept, killing off yet another conquering monarch and replacing her with an elected king.

Of course the thing is, that king is Bran.

It was one of several head-scratchers in a finale that, like much of the season, was a mishmash of poignant moments and puzzling turns.

There were definitely some nice touches, like the dragon-wing shot of Daenerys and the nobles’ guffaws at the mere thought of actual democracy, one of the night’s funnier moments. In some ways, the finale was a compendium of “Thrones” greatest hits: There was yet another regicide, yet another jailing of Tyrion, yet another scattering of Starks.

But the episode, directed by the creators D.B. Weiss and David Benioff (who in the last few weeks have become the show’s biggest villains to a vocal fan segment), was also plagued by the same incoherence that has inspired abundant Twitter rage this season and at least one effigial petition.

There was Jon killing Daenerys and then escaping the immediate wrath of both Drogon — maybe his Targaryen blood helped — and the Unsullied, who instead took him prisoner hours after cutting people’s throats just for supporting Cersei, much less murdering their queen. (And how did they know what had happened, without a body? Did he confess?) There was the eternally fungible size of the Unsullied and Dothraki forces.

There was also the weird pacing that has marred much of the past two seasons, since the show cut from 10 episodes a season to seven last season and then six in this one.

On Sunday, minutes of screen time would be devoted to Jon walking and then, with a quick fade out and in, Tyrion had a bushy beard and the heads of Westeros’s big houses had suddenly appeared in the dragonpit. (Who summoned them?)

After eight seasons of anguish and death that amounted to a case for a new political system — “We need to find a better way!” Davos urged — Tyrion laid the whole thing out in a few minutes, Scooby Doo-style, as Grey Worm glowered nearby but reluctantly went along with everything.

It was clumsy and frustrating, especially because if you squinted, you could see how the outcomes could have been powerful if the lead-ups hadn’t been mismanaged.

Jon’s assassination of Daenerys was the stuff of Greek tragedy — a man murdering his lover for the greater good. (And here’s where I brag about bringing up Maester Aemon’s “love is the death of duty” speech back in Week 2.) Emilia Clarke and Kit Harington gave moving performances, but the scene lacked the impact it deserved because the turn that got us there was unconvincing.

Bran is in some ways a fitting choice for a kingdom that is looking to forge a different path. On a show frequently about how societies that forget their history are doomed to repeat it — in sectarian revenge cycles, conquering tyrants, sacks of great cities — Bran can see all of history. In a realm plagued by rulers who slaughtered their way into power, Bran is physically broken. In a tale in which pride and ego can lead to travesty, Bran has neither.

Tyrion leaned hard into the humility argument and also into a cornier one about stories being the most powerful thing on earth. Bran got shoved from a tower and then became the Three Eyed Raven, Tyrion said. Who has a better story than that? (Rebuttal: Arya and Sansa, sitting on either side of him.)

And as a bonus, Bran can’t sire a lunatic like Joffrey because he can’t have kids at all!

But none of it changes the fact that Bran has long been one of the most unsatisfying characters on the show. He’s almost a man, as he told Jon back in the season premiere, but he’s mostly a tool of convenience designed to relay narrative information we couldn’t get otherwise — whether it’s scouting the White Walkers, revealing “Thrones” prehistory or dropping knowledge bombs.

Bran theoretically has access to all information but seems to access it only when and in which way the story needs him to. This was reflected perfectly by his response to Tyrion’s pitch: “Why do you think I came all this way?” O.K., then why were you so hyped about telling Jon he’s supposed to be king a few weeks ago?

One response might be, because that’s what needed to happen — this is Bran’s response to pretty much everything, which makes it essentially meaningless. This all can sound like nit-picking, but internal logic is part of what gives a story power and resonance. In a show that was once defined by a kind of gritty realism within a fantastical setting, Bran is the ultimate cheat.

So his promotion to the Rolling Throne was a sort of final confirmation that over the past couple of seasons, at least, the series became something different from what most of us signed up for.

“Game of Thrones” became a global phenomenon largely by upending expectations, and one way it achieved that was by using the calcified conventions of the fantasy genre against us. The noble patriarch defined by his morals? Gone in the first season. The prince valiant son who followed his heart? Slaughtered along with his pregnant wife. The gentle giant who lived to protect a plucky young lad? Doomed in multiple ways by the actions of said lad.

This was a Shakespearean saga about power, blood and loyalty, we once told our skeptical, fantasy-averse friends. Not some show about dragons and wizards.

And then in its final episode, a dragon committed the story’s most potent symbolic act and a wizard was put in charge.

It all could have worked better if the past two seasons had felt less like headlong rushes toward predetermined outcomes, at the expense of character and story believability. (Whatever that means in a dragon epic.) I might have even accepted King Bran the Broken and his “everything happens for a reason” rhetoric if the show had just … nah, actually, I probably wouldn’t have. But so many of the things that drove fans loudly crazy this season most likely wouldn’t have if they’d been given more room to breathe. (More on this in a minute.)

The council that elected Bran included some of our favorite people, at least. This included the future Small Council members Sam (grand maester), Davos (master of ships), Brienne (lord commander of the kingsguard, maybe?) and Bronn, who in a fun twist was made master of coin. (As political commentary, putting a louche mercenary in charge of the treasury is pretty great.)

Yara Greyjoy and Gendry were there, too. Randomly, so was the former Suckling Robin, Yohn Royce (I think?), and some other people I didn’t recognize. Edmure Tully made it out of Walder Frey’s cell, apparently, but he’s still the same goober he was when he went in.

The mix of highborn and low was meaningful, and combined with the depictions of the Targaryen Regime — the Nurembergish rally, the tyrannical doublespeak about “liberating” people who had just been butchered — it unsubtly hammered home the show’s main themes: Power corrupts. Working together is our only hope.

Of course, the defining pack of the show was scattered yet again to the corners of the earth. The parting of Sansa, Arya and Jon inspired real emotion, intensified by the fact that just as they would never see this family together again, neither would we.

It was sad to see the Starks go their separate ways again, but they each got fitting ends. Sansa got a crown and an independent North, making her one of the few people in the show actually qualified for the job they have.

Arya is off for further adventures in the land beyond the map. Jon is going back North to where he fit in best of all, a poignant end for a man who was always an outsider, even when he was at the center of things. He’s already made up for his diss of Ghost a couple of weeks ago.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you needed me,” Jon told Bran.

“You were exactly where you were supposed to be,” he replied.

Of course he was, Bran. Of course he was.

A Race to the Finish

Endings are hard, and this one was always going to be harder than most.

That’s partly thanks to a story that methodically killed off its most interesting characters (and some of its best actors) as it winnowed into a more traditional good-versus-evil tale centered on its least interesting ones (Jon and Dany).

And it’s partly because the things that established “Game of Thrones” as a phenomenon — the epic scale, the shocking twists — began to work against it. Plot swerves got more abrupt as the writers tried to stay ahead of the obsessive audience — without the benefit of a blueprint, once the show surpassed the books — and story was sacrificed at the altar of spectacle as the series strove to top itself over and over.

And it’s partly because Benioff and Weiss failed to anticipate the ways in which dramatically abbreviating the last two seasons would exacerbate all of the above.

I don’t pretend to understand the pressures of TV production — logic suggests that with the episodes getting ever more technically complicated, they would take longer to shoot, which results in fewer of them per season.

But didn’t the show already take as much time as it needed, with months and months between some seasons? Why not go ahead and take as much as it takes to get to 10 episodes for those last two? For that matter, why not break up some of these supersize installments from this season into two separate ones that let moments land and things develop less frantically?

I liked the Battle of Winterfell more than most people, but would it have felt less abrupt spread over two episodes? Would Jaime or Dany’s turns have felt more natural if they’d been given time to more gradually unfold? Yes, yes and yes.

But now I worry that I’m starting to sound nit-picky again. And listen: For all of my kvetching, am I saying the show has been ruined, as so many former fans claim? Not at all. (I’m certainly not signing any goofy petitions.)

I will always admire “Game of Thrones” and never forget the wonder of its most provocative moments — Hardhome, Hodor, the Red Wedding, Cersei’s coup, Arya’s killing of the Night King — and the beauty of its quieter ones. I was frequently astounded that such stunning and audacious artistry could be delivered into my living room.

I kvetch because I care. I care because at its best, there was nothing else like “Game of Thrones” on TV or any other medium.

A Few Thoughts While We Turn the Page

• The power of stories and the tension between actual and recorded history were big themes in the finale, and in the show over all. In addition to Tyrion’s rhetoric on Sunday, we saw Brienne faithfully filling out Jaime’s story in the Book of the Brothers — a callback to Joffrey making fun of Jaime’s scanty entry in Season 4 — until she got to his final act. “He died serving his Queen,” she wrote, a single-sentence gloss on one of the most complex and defining plots of this story.

• Then Tyrion himself, the linchpin of so much of “Game of Thrones,” was entirely left out of “Song of Ice and Fire.” A popular theory held that Sam was ultimately going to be the one who wrote the story we’ve just watched. Close. Turns out it was Archmaester Ebrose (the head guy played by Jim Broadbent), but Sam helped with the title.

• “There’s still a Night’s Watch?” Jon asked, speaking for all of us, when it was proposed to him. Yep, Tyrion said, but maybe there wasn’t after all? It just looked like Tormund and a bunch of Wildlings, and then they all headed north of the Wall.

• Freed of their pillaging and storm-trooping responsibilities, the Unsullied are on their way to Naath, all 100 or 10,000 or however many of them are going to live the dream that Grey Worm hatched with Missandei back at Winterfell. Also, if you had Grey Worm in your survival pool, congratulations. Drinks are on you.

• What did you make of the big finale? Did it make you mad about the rise of Bran the Broken? Sad about Jon’s expulsion? Glad Dany got her comeuppance?

• And finally, each of us has a role to play, and now mine is done. But before I stagger toward the horizon like Melisandre and collapse into dust, I want to say thank you to everyone for reading and commenting over the past few weeks (or years). Daenerys, Jaime, Cersei, Jorah, Missandei, Ned, Robb, Rickon, Hodor (Hodor) and about a billion others didn’t make it, but we’re still here. We were the watchers on the couches, and now our … wait, how does it go again?

Sahred From Source link Arts

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