#yes I can’t stop thinking about these parallels

[mikereads]

“You’re my fucking heart”

[oceantornadoo]

your weighted blanket (simon riley x f!reader)

part of this two lieutenants series but it’s standalone

—

“you know what i want?”

“wha’?”

“a weighted blanket.”

simon turned away from his bedroom desk to stare at you, his dark eyes squinting incredulously.

“what?! i think it’d help me sleep.”

“wha’ the fuck is a weighted blanket.”

you huffed a sigh. “it’s literally a weighted blanket simon. having weight pressing down on you helps you sleep, it’s scientifically proven.” you rolled your eyes, crossing your arms as you laid back on his bed.

turning off his desk lamp, he made his way to his bed. he joined you on top of the covers, giving you plenty of space. keeping it platonic. not that he wanted to, but that was another thing.

“can’t jus’ have some sop lay on you?” the words hurt coming out, but it was the only thing he could say. desperately looking for a sign that you were talking to someone as you were so tightlipped about your escapades until after they ended.

“i’m on a man break. they all suck.” no one measured up to the unending care simon gave you, even if he was just a friend. just a friend who lets you come into his room every night, talking yourself to sleep. just a friend who never forgets your favorite body wash or candle scent on supply runs.

“they don’t know how to treat a woman like you.” his words echoed in the dark, ideas of what they meant bouncing around in your brain. “a woman like me?” silence. “don’t be mean, si.”

fuck he was so stupid. needed to watch his tone better, like gaz was always telling him. “dove, jus’ meant a smart independent woman like yourself. yer lookin’ for a partner and they’re look for a mother or a fuck. or both.” your jaw dropped. “oh. thanks.” his words thickened the air. no one had ever talked about you like that, like you were something to be treasured, not kept. like he respected you.

“if you really need a weighted blanket i-“ “yeah?” you sounded too eager, but you didn’t care. you turned towards him, catching his eye in the gleam of the base lights outside his window. “could be yers. if you want. strictly platonic.” he scratched his head, looking away. embarrassed. “yeah, platonic. course, yeah. that’s fine. good, i mean.” you needed to get your act together and stop sounding like a teenager, but he just offered to be your blanket. surely that was more than platonic.

“now?”

“sure.”

you sat on his bed like a dead fish, arms at your sides. you were not about to initiate what surely would be the most awkward non-cuddle session in your life. simon pressed one large paw into the mattress, hauling his huge body up on one arm. he moved down farther on the bed, his head parallel to your ribs. then, with the uttermost care, he shifted on top of you, hovering. waiting. “you can lay on me si, it’s okay.” he released his hands slowly, the full force of his body laying on you. 250+ pounds of pure machine, a body honed from years in the military. a soldier, a sniper, a lieutenant, now at your mercy, body covering yours completely.

“not too weighted for you?” you giggled. an actual giggle from his fellow lieutenant. “no, si. not too weighted.” your hand instinctively went to his hair before you could stop yourself. “is this comfortable? you’re on my ribs.” he grunted. it actually hurt like a bitch, your bone pressing into him through layers of fat, but he was laying on you and therefore could not complain. “you can move up, i won’t mind.” well, if you were letting him. he wanted to make the most of this blanket situation, this type of intimacy so foreign to him.

simon scooted up your body and laid his head on your tits. built-in pillows, one might call them. you hand went to his hair again, slowly scratching his scalp. “this ok?” you never touched like this, had never touched him like something precious. he grunted, a yes in “ghost” as you liked to call it. you continued running your hand through his hair, surprised at the softness of his locks. his face was against your breast, and usually you’d be embarrassed, but lines had been crossed and all bets were off. his body was heavy, sure, but the weight of it was comforting. all you could think of was him, not the annoying recruit from this morning, not the bad dinner you had at the mess hall. only the smell of the base shampoo and his natural musk, something uniquely him but not gross.

all simon could hear was your heartbeat. it had quickened when he first laid down, but now it was slowing to a comforting beat. you were here, you were breathing. the gunfire and the smell of bombs in his head meant nothing as long as he had you like this, in his arms where no one could hurt you. he could feel your body relaxing, muscles losing the day’s tension and giving themselves over to sleep. as your breathing slowed and you moved to a lower, more comfortable position on his pillow, he knew time could stop and all that would matter was you, right here, with him.

--

[darlingdaisyfarm]

˚⋆｡ thinking about Ford who. . .✧˚ (x fem!reader)

minors don’t interact

Who can’t help himself.

His mind never really stops working, even when he’s inside you, moving so slow that has you writhing beneath him. His cock buried inside you, stretching you out inch by inch, but even now, his thoughts are somewhere between the galaxies and the stars. His cock pulses inside you, making you feel so good, but it’s not enough and yet he's still talking about the fabric of the universe. 

“You know. . . mmm, parallel dimensions have an infinite number of variables, but if you—" his breath hitches as he rolls his hips deeper, forcing your body to arch. “if you narrow them to specific constants you find— hahh, patterns.” little moan escapes your lips, needy, as his cock drags slowly against your walls.

His voice is calm, even steady despite the unhurried, delicious way he's fucking you, but you're barely listening. How could you? Every thrust has your mind blanking, leaving nothing but pleasure pooling low in your belly. Your nails digging into his back, you feel so abandoned each time he pulls out, only to have him slide back in with agonizing precision.

"Forddd. . .” you moan, head falling back into the pillow, begging for more, for faster. But his rhythm is controlled, measured, its like he’s savouring the way your cunt grips him, tight and so damn warm as he’s balls deep inside you.

“Dimensional travel. . . it’s not just theoretical, you see,” Ford’s voice is calm, as if he’s lecturing a class and not thrusting into your slick, dripping pussy, as if you’re not clenching around him so tight it’s driving you both insane. “If we can manipulate space-time— like this. . .” he punctuates his words with a deep thrust, his cock dragging against your soft walls in a way that makes your whole body shake. “we can alter outcomes. Mm, t-that means every choice you make branches into— fuck, you’re tight— into infinite possibilities.”

You can hardly breathe, can barely think because of the pressure building between your legs and he’s still talking. God, he’s still talking. You hear him, even if barely, something about gravitational fields and parallel worlds, but it’s all turning into a blur with your eyes rolling in the back of your head when he hits that sweet spot inside again and again.

“You like it when I explain things to you,” Ford claims. “It turns you on, doesn’t it?”

You can’t even find the words to respond, because yes, you love it and fuck, you hate that you love it. All you can do is mewl and whimper, your hips rolling against him in a futile attempt to make him pick up the pace. He knows, god, he knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

“Ford, please—!” his cock slides deeper, but that serious, calm tone, fuck, it’s driving you wild. You want him to stop talking, to focus, to pound into you like you need, but his voice just keeps spilling from his lips like honey. Your head rolls back, lips parting in pathetic little gasps and moans, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. You can’t take it anymore, he’s teasing you, playing with you, dragging it out just to see how far he can push you before you break. “please, faster!” you plead, desperate for more, desperate for him to stop talking and just fuck you properly, hard and fast. But he’s still so calm, still so fucking unflappable. 

“Oh? you’re getting impatient?” Ford’s hand slides down your trembling thigh, lifting it higher, opening you up even more to him. “You wanted to learn about interdimensional physics, didn’t you?” he mumbles under his breath as he grinds into you, his cock plunging deeper, completely filling you and it feels like a dream for both of you. “I’m just giving you what you wanted.”

His fingers finds your needy clit, rubbing in torturous circles as he continues that slow rhythm inside you. He’s barely breaking a sweat, his brow furrowed in concentration as if this is just another experiment to him meanwhile you’re such a mess under him. His cock twitches inside you as he changes angle again, deeper now and he takes a sharp breath, but he doesn’t stop talking. 

He doesn’t stop and you hate him.

Ford’s eyes roam over your trembling body, reveling in the sight of you, desperate and needy. Your eyes watery and mouth open in a breathless moan.

“The fascinating thing about dimensional shifts— god, you feel so good,” he trails off for a moment, and you think, finally, he’s losing focus. You roll your hips against his, hoping to break his composure. But instead of faltering, he chuckles, leaning down only to plant a small kiss on your lips. “you’re trying to distract me, aren’t you?”

“Fuck, p-pleasee!” you whine, spreading your legs wider, trying to press up against him, but he pins you down.

“Clever girl,” he mutters, voice rougher now, losing some of that composed edge as he looks at you, the desperate need written all over your cute face. “letting me teach you like this.”

He pulls out, almost completely, leaving you aching, empty, before slamming back into you hard enough to knock the breath out of your lungs. "That’s my girl." his words make you cry out his name over and over again, your nails digging into his back as he starts to fuck you better, properly, his pace quicker, rougher now, the weight of his body pressing you into the mattress.

He’s no longer focused on explaining the mysteries of the universe, he’s focused on you, on how your body responds to him, on how good it feels to have you wrapped around him, hot and wet and perfect, on how your wetness and slick coating his length. The sounds of skin slapping against skin fills the air, mixing with your desperate, needy moans and his groans when he finally fucks you the way you wanted, he ruts into you faster, harder, and it’s everything you needed, everything you craved. 

“Ford— oh fuck,” you cry out, head thrown back and he’s there, finally losing himself in the way your cunt clenching around him, making such wet squelching sounds, he’s lost in the way you’re moaning his name, voice so beautiful. You’re nearly drooling as you give him a silly smile, begging him to finish inside you.

“Cum for me,” he growls, his hand sliding down, thumb finding your clit and pressing down in fast circles what makes your head spin. “I want to feel you— cum for me, now.” you arch your back as the orgasm crashes through you, you walls flutter around him, the sensations are so intense you can’t even scream, only shake and try to cross your legs because pleasure is fucking overwhelming, though Ford never stops thrusting into your wetness. You’re trembling, mind blank as you cling onto him, holding him, feeling him.

Ford groans at the beautiful sight, his clever girl looks so pretty when she’s dumb fucked and cock drunk. However Ford is lost in pleasure too, your pussy feels so warm, so tight and good he just can’t stop fucking you. But he’s damn close. He grits his teeth, taking a deep breath, thrusting into you so hard, burying himself so fucking deep, his cock twitching as he spills into you, filling you up with every last drop. Finally, finally. He’s breathing heavily into your lips, glasses fogged, his chest heaving. You just lay there, taking it like a good girl you are.

Ford can’t stop looking at you, he kisses your forehead, softly and gentle. “Now. . . where were we? Ah, yes. Dimensional theory.”

You can’t help but laugh, head still spinning as he pulls you close, already starting to ramble again about parallel worlds and universal constants, like he wasn’t just inside you, fucking you senseless.

And honestly you wouldn’t have him any other way.

[gogobootz1]

The Mentor

Finnick Odair x Reader

Summary: As a mentor, you do your best to help your tributes. When one of them turns into a victor, she knows just how to embarrass you in front of people you’d like to impress.

part two | part three

You whisk through the backstage hallways of the filming center, wet hair whipping as you turn corners. You’re on a mission. Apparently your tribute, now victor, is having a total breakdown.

Your fellow mentor told you he could absolutely handle her post-games interview. Clearly not, though, since your phone wouldn’t stop ringing while you sat at the bottom of your shower. When you finally pulled yourself out of your stupor to answer it, the district ten escort was on the phone begging you to get down here and fix her. You thought she was exaggerating until your stylist came on and told you it was bad. At that point, you threw on the closest clothes you could find and flew out of the apartment.

Darla is a sweet girl, and you’ve grown quite fond of her. You busted your ass getting her sponsors. Every year you try your best, but you thought she had a good chance and she proved you right. Seeing her in the hospital bed, though, you knew she was different. You thought something like this might happen, but you didn’t think it would happen during your shower.

Rushing around another corner, you crash right into another body.

“Sorry!” You try to quickly remove your hands from where you’d steadied yourself, and sidestep this new obstacle.

“What’s the rush?” The obstacle won’t quite let go of you, though. Now interrupted from your task, you look up to recognize the person in your way. Finnick Odair. It couldn’t have been anyone else?

“Emergency,” you quickly dismiss, trying to get by him again. If you look into his eyes you will be thoroughly distracted. You generally try to avoid Finnick at all costs. His intense stare makes you rather nervous.

“Everything ok?” He raises a brow.

“It will be when I get through here,” you start to get antsy. You tend to accidentally default to short and rude with him.

He lets out a scoff of a chuckle, “you’re a tough egg to crack, you know that?”

You’re really not. The Capitol knows you as the gentle victor, who often visits classrooms and reads to children. You guest star on daytime Capitol tv, making some of your favorite recipes in your houses’s enormous kitchen. You’ve designed gardens and parks and are generally well liked here for your friendliness.

“Look,” you huff, “Darla’s in trouble.” This, at least, you know he’ll understand. “Let me through so I can help her.”

“That’s why everything’s been delayed?” He asks. He’s right, too. The time it’s taken you to get dressed, get a car, and get here is all time that Darla should’ve been on air.

“Finnick,” you snap.

He steps aside in an instant, “good luck.”

You breeze past him.

“Mother hen is a good look on you,” you hear from behind you.

“Shut up,” you bark over your shoulder.

Back on track, you quickly find the right door. Whipping it open and rushing in, the entire district ten beauty team turns to look at you. Their eyes are wide and they look quite upset.

“She’s been staring at the wall since before we called you,” the hairstylist whispers, quickly rushing up to you and taking your hand. You instantly tug it away, they are not your priority.

You breeze past them and slowly approach where Darla is sat. She faces away from you, and is curled up in a ball staring at the wall. Quietly, you sit parallel to her and enjoy a similar view of the wall.

“Hey, D,” you say quietly. Taking a slow approach will probably be more effective than trying to force her up. You’re certain the beauty team tried that approach, but quickly got scared.

She’s silent for a bit, “I can’t do this.” Her voice comes as a relief to you.

You hate what you’re about to tell her. You’d really rather whisk her away back to the apartments, but there’s not exactly another option here. “Look at me, honey, yes you can.”

“No, I-“

“Darla, you can.” You try to be firm, but it falls short.

“You don’t under-“

“Now I know you weren’t gonna say I don’t understand. Baby, I might just be the only one who does.”

Darla starts to cry, and suddenly she looks her age. In this moment she’s not a victor. She’s just a sixteen year old who’s been through far more than she should. You move from your spot to embrace her.

“I know, honey. I’ve been here. Sometimes I’m still here. I know. But they don’t- and they can’t.” You say as you hold her close to your heart.

“So what do I do?” You pull away to see her teary face. You rise to your feet and slowly pull her with you.

“We’re gonna clean you up, and send you out there good as new,” you say, trying to imbue some confidence in her.

Darla’s eyes widen in fear.

“Relax, honey, we’ve got time,” you wipe her teary cheeks. You wave the makeup artist over, as you sit Darla in a chair. “Now in the meantime,” you start, pouring a glass of water and forcing it into Darla’s hand, “I’m gonna tell you a story. How’s that sound?”

Darla nods reluctantly, taking in ice water through the straw. You sit on the glass coffee table in front of the girl as the makeup artist gets to work.

“Now this happened a looooong time ago- back when I was ten. It was a bright summer’s day on the ranch, and I was up nice and early when my Paw came up and told me he’d lost his wedding ring. Now, my Nana was an insightful gal- if she had noticed (and believe me she would’ve) she’d have pitched a fit.

So I was enlisted to help him find it. Well, we searched everywhere. All around the house, the garage- no luck. Finally, we headed out to the pasture. We were digging through manure, when suddenly my foot sank into a pothole and I went flying toward the ground. I landed face first in an enormous pile of shit. But that’s not the worst of it- ohhh no.

When I pushed myself off the ground, I saw my nana had come home. She’d brought four of her friends and all of their grandkids. That included little Jimmy Price, who I happened to be enamored with. (Not that I ever spoke to him since I was so shy.) And in that moment, my Paw, back turned to the whole thing, held up his ring and shouted ‘found it!’ Only to turn and find me covered in cow poop and his wife watching with all her friends.”

Darla smiles a bit at your misfortune, “so he found the ring in the poop?”

“Oh no,” you shake your head, “it was in his pocket all along.” Darla cackles this, nearly messing up the eyeliner her makeup artist tries to fix from her earlier tears.

“So what was the lesson in this fable?” Darla asks teasingly.

“Oh none,” you reply innocently, but a smirk grows on your face, “but at least you’re not heading out there covered in cow shit.” Darla grins and shakes her head, feeling up to the task now. The makeup artist nods at you and dashes from the room.

“Now honey,” you start, pulling Darla up from her chair, “you just blame your tardiness on me. Tell Caesar I was fawning all over you like a mother hen.” At least something useful came out of your run in with the Capitol’s darling.

Darla smiles a little, nodding. “And remember, just be your charming self- everyone here adores you,” you remind her. She seems a lot better now.

“Oh hey, where were you earlier?” Darla asks, about to head out the door.

“I’ll tell you when you’re older.” You tell her, smile dimming.

“Now you really sound like my mother,” Darla quips back, and you grin again.

With that, a stagehand pulls Darla away to where Caesar’s been waiting. There’s not much else you can do for the girl now. Out of your hands and into the Capitol’s. You can only hope Darla won’t freeze feeling all their eyes upon her.

You shouldn’t have been worried, though. Darla nails her post-games interview. The audience finds it adorable when the girl says she took so long because her mentor was fussing over her hair and her dress.

“You wouldn’t think it- but she’s a real mother hen.” Darla says, and you smile as you watch from backstage. The audience erupts into a gleeful sort of laughter at the comment.

Caesar knows just what to do with it, too, “well it’s no wonder, I’m sure you’ve made her proud!” Darla beams, and very convincingly so. “Let’s take a look back at Darla’s games!”

To your great relief, Darla holds it together through the recap. The girl gets boisterous applause as the leaves the stage, then comes flying into your arms once she’s out of sight. The force of it makes you stumble, but you quickly plant your feet and return the hug.

“You did great, kiddo,” you tell your tribute.

“Thanks!” Darla replies, speaking loudly from the adrenaline rush, “and thanks for telling me about when you face planted in a pile of cow poop back home, it really helped!”

Every single person milling around backstage turns to look at you when Darla says it. Not that the girl notices the extra eyes.

You drop your chin, trying to avoid the stares of these people. This is what you get for comforting her at your own expense. Taking a calming breath, you look up only to meet a pair of sea-green eyes.

Of course Finnick Odair heard that, and of course he’s smirking teasingly at you.

Like Jimmy Price all over again.

You stick your tongue out at him.

———————————————————

I did not edit this so I hope it’s ok lmao. The new hunger games movie was great so ofc finnick’s been on the brain

[dearsnow]

TOO SWEET

- you discover that you mix a little too much sugar into your relationship, and jake seems to believe that he’ll turn everything sour. (jake seresin x fem!reader, angst, jake being an asshole when he thinks he’s making the right decision but what’s new, i had a real fun time writing the description ⚠️ drinking)

PART 2

word count: 785

a/n - angst city is back !! and yes there are parallels bc i’m in a parallel mood so yeah some lines are very very similar to each other. hope you guys enjoy, even though my first hangman-centric fic is a sad one lol. based on “too sweet” by hozier <3

You press your palm to Jake’s face, feeling his stubble rough against your soft skin. “You’re amazing.”

He has a pool stick in his hand, one that he sets down to pull away from your touch. Your face flushes as he takes your hand in his own and places his pool stick in your other, motioning for you to take a shot. “You’re too sweet, darlin’. Let’s prove to Chicken over here that you can be tough, too.”

“Too sweet” is something he’s called you more than once. You suppose it is true, with your gentle and kind demeanor. You just can’t help wanting everyone to be happy.

Jake Seresin is pretty much the opposite of that. He intentionally upsets people with a smile on his face, content in riling them up, and fond of perpetuating rivalries. No one ever understands why you’re attracted to him, especially not the other daggers.

You see the side of him that he rarely ever shows. The one that’s kind and caring, that understands when he goes too far and reels his aggressive personality back to shore. When he kisses you on the cheek or places his hand on the small of your back, you feel it too.

So, when he pulls you to the side of the Hard Deck, you assume he’s just going to give you another drawling compliment and skirt his hand between your shirt and the soft skin of your waist. You certainly don’t expect the words that come out of his mouth next.

“Hun, I think we need to stop seeing each other.”

Your heart stops dead in its tracks. “What?” You borderline squeak. No, this can’t be happening. Everything was so perfect just moments ago, and now the look on his face makes you want to cry. It’s laden with sympathy.

He holds your hands with gentle fingers. “You’re too sweet, baby. I don’t mean it in a bad way, but I mean, you’re way sweeter than I could ever be. You tell Rooster his shirt looks nice when it’s eye-bleeding and you mean it. I love that, I really do, but we don’t fit. We don’t make sense, and I want my relationships to make sense.”

“We do make sense.” You protest. “Opposites attract or something like that. We can make it work.”

“The thing is, we can’t. I’m gonna piss you off eventually, and you’re gonna forgive me, and it’ll just be toxic. I don’t want that for you.”

He lets go of your hands, and as the cool air hits them, they miss his warmth. His green eyes are tinged with something you could associate with sadness, just a hint of aching regret. His mouth twitches a bit, curling into his sun-kissed freckles. They wouldn’t be noticeable if you hadn’t looked at him so closely, if you hadn’t kissed along that same line a few nights ago. “And what about what I want, Jake? I want you. We can have a good relationship, I promise, we’ll find a way.”

“That’s what makes you so special. Your goddamn unwavering hope. I don’t want to crush that, sweet thing, but you have to know that it isn’t always going to work out.” His tone is softer now, but his words hit like the sharp end of a knife. You stare up at him, eyes watering.

“But-“

“It’s a no, baby. Just no.”

He turns, and for the first time, you don’t follow his movements. Your fists close around empty air.

It’s really happening. He’s explained how he doesn’t want you in a million honey-suckled ways, and more than anything, you just want to sink into his arms and cry. But you can’t, and you don’t. You move away, instead, out of the Hard Deck and out of his life, into the cold night air. When you reach your car, all you can do is sob into the shiny metal.

Jake watches you leave. He wants to run after you, to thread his fingers around yours and pull you into a kiss, but he can’t, and he doesn’t. It’s better for you, he tells himself. You sip on wine and fruity drinks while his neat whiskey is sitting on the bar, half-drunk. You deserve someone nicer, kinder, who kisses you goodbye and doesn’t scratch your face with stubble. He sees you lean against your car, forehead pressed to the car door, and he almost folds. He picks up his drink and turns to face Penny, who’s looking at him disapprovingly.

“I’m not good for her.” He tries to explain.

Penny sighs and reaches for the whiskey, topping off his glass. “You aren’t. I just wish you made it your problem instead of hers.”

Taglist: @seitmai

[shadowspromise]

ghoapy thoughts

Ghost has a stupid crush on you. He swears he’ll deny it till the end of time.

Soap has an enthusiastic crush on you. He makes it painfully obvious.

Ghost has an even stupider crush on Soap. He tells himself every morning not to let his feelings get ahead of his job.

Soap has, yet again, an enthusiastic crush on Ghost. It’s even more obvious, somehow, than his crush on you.

You know that Soap’s down tremendously for Ghost, but you know that he’s also flirting with you. It confuses you, making you wonder if he’s just naturally flirty or if he really likes both of you.

Ghost wakes up every morning, looks in the mirror, gives himself a firm slap across his own face and tells himself to behave. Crushes are stupid and he’s a grown man with a grown man job. He doesn’t have time for his stupid feelings.

Oh, but when it’s just Ghost and Soap at the bar together, after a few too many drinks…

They can’t help but talk about each other, talk about you. They keep buying each other drinks, knowing that at this rate they’ll have to call someone to pick them up.

“Could barely focus during Price’s meeting today. You an’ Y/N wearin’ those tight shirts… drivin’ me up the damn wall…” Ghost rambles, his eyes parallel to Soap’s.

“Ah did it on purpose, ya know ah love distractin’ you…” Soap responds, his accent thicker due to the alcohol. His cheeks are heavily tinted red, both from blushing and the drinking.

“You think Y/N knows what they’re doin’ to us? Think they do it on purpose too?” Ghost replies, smirking from under his mask. He lifts it over his nose to take another drink.

“God, I hope so,” Soap mumbles, rubbing his temples. He can’t even remember how many drinks he’s had tonight.

“You a’ight Johnny? Think we should go?” Ghost asks, intentionally touching Soap’s shoulder as an act of comfort (and seduction).

“Ah’m fuckin’ blootered, ah’m see’in colors when I close my damn eyes… cannae even feel my toes properly…” Soap starts muttering. Ghost only comprehends about half of what he just said but gets the general point.

“I’ll ask someone to get us. We’ll wake up in a whorehouse if we try walkin’ ourselves back…” Ghost pulls out his phone, squinting his eyes at the screen, trying to focus.

He texts Gaz and gets no answer, probably because it’s late and he’s sleeping.

He texts Price and gets the response of “You’re big boys, get yourself back.”

That leaves you. He decides to rethink a nicer message than the “pick johnny and I up cuntbag” he sent to the others.

“Johnny and I are drunk. Would appreciate if you came and walked us back to base.”

Simon mentally gives himself a pat on the back for managing to type all that without sounding condescending or making a dozen typos.

You respond within 15 seconds, to his surprise. Although he knew you were a good boy/girl and were always eager to help.

“Sure thing. Will be there soon ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ”

The little emoticons you send him drives him mad.

“Aye, you think they’re into me? They put a… fuckin’ dog or whatever…” Ghost shows Johnny his phone.

“That’s a bear, mate,” Soap points at the text.

“I think it’s a dog.”

“Well you’re wrong, ye braw bastard.”

The bar is just about a ten minute walk from base and you’ll be there any minute, so they spent their “alone” time talking about you (and the things they’d do to you)

When you arrive, Soap gets overly excited and falls over. Ghost tries with every nerve in his body not to laugh, attempting to keep up the cold and stoic personality for you.

You guide them back to base, stopping Soap from stumbling onto the road. Ghost is much more physically put together, but mentally he’s having an aneurysm. He’s staring at Johnny’s ass whenever he has the chance and can physically feel himself get warmer when your arm brushes against his.

At base, you attempt to push them into their separate rooms but they refuse. Ghost and Soap give one drunken look at each other and it’s seconds before they’re cornering you.

That night, all three of you had your dreams come true.

[bandtrees]

this has always been one of my favorite lines in this scene it’s so striking to me. i think debating over callum’s level of lucidity and what can or cannot “fix” him is deeply antithecal to what the story is trying to express with him - but the idea that callum is still there and still a person who does have the capacity to love mingus, just not in a way she can ever comprehend or accept, because she can't comprehend or accept anything outside her narrow worldview, is sooooo good.

there is no way of actually knowing if callum is proud of mingus, much less recognizes her at all - but it's added to by the fact there's only so much of that she would accept even if he could. ultimately, she wants validation and power, his prestige, from him, she wants a supportive parental figure she never had - there's only so much of that callum is able to provide even in a world where her stint to fix his memory actually worked. he's like a hundred. he never even MET her. to say nothing of all he's missed in the past fifty-odd years. to say nothing of how his age may have messed with his mind deteriorating even without the pre-existing brain damage.

and mingus' phrasing here implies he doesn't even look at her when she visits - which brings me to the visit that radicalized her: the one after her surgery, where he was watching gingi out the window.

obviously, callum watching gingi is mostly for the thematics of it all, how similar the two of them are in ways mingus refuses to recognize, but theres also the thought of... callum's been sitting alone in that room for over half his life, barely lucid if at all. of course he's going to be drawn to a brightly-colored thing making noises and knocking stuff over outside. if he can't respond to stimuli of the people around him he's at the very least going to latch onto something more visually interesting than Brown Wall and Brown Figure.

but it's not like mingus can think of it like that, because she's internalized so much about her grandfather and built up such a specific, personalized vision of him - she doesn't see him as an elderly man with (a fictional equivalent to) dementia, she sees him as President Callum Crown™, the man she personally has to please and live up to the legacy of and make proud, disregarding the fact that's not something he has the mental capacity to even do - because she's so obsessed with validation and complete control that the only way she can get it is by either subjugating others and forcing it out of them (what she does with her townsfolk), or just completely projecting on someone who, for her purposes, is basically a blank slate.

which is maddening to her in its own way, see how crazy she drives herself trying to restore callum's memory in the first place - but also, would she be happy even if callum could see her for who she is? post-game, when she's working on herself, that's an irrelevant question as she's pushed past that need, but as we know her? absolutely not.

i love the ch3 standoff between norm and mingus as a show of "Okay guys let’s see who can dehumanize this disabled guy harder (via pedestal-putting) and justify themselves for it better" and why i think it is so important that it’s gingi who reads the postcard and ultimately speaks for callum instead of either of them, or even the narrator. they can’t read, and they struggle to, but they manage to get it right even when people are telling them to stop. and the fact they’re able to do it at all, are given the chance to do so, and are ultimately the one to wind down this conflict shows that the world of dialtown, while not perfect, really is how callum would have wanted it.

both gingi and callum are some of the most altruistic and human characters ever, and the crux of their parallels is that they are denied this by close-minded people because they happen to Behave Strangely. it's why seeing mingus act the way she does hits so hard - she loves her paw-paw, yes, but if she were to see him in a vacuum, a one-limbed man who can hardly think, much less speak for himself: or even his younger self, who was struggling to make ends meet with his odd inventions...

...well, the feeling norm's imagining here would probably be mutual. mingus' relationship with bigotry is a very fascinating one, she's very close-minded but views certain oddities (ie her flesh-head) as having earned their place and thus being fine - she's a freak too, by her own admission, but she's doing it for a just and wider purpose, so it's fine. which is, ironically, the ideology callum forced upon himself.

callum was obsessed with helping people, pushing himself to do more and more, because it was the only way he ever found respect. if he didn't help people and have grand visions for the world and make himself "useful" to society at large, then what would he be, if not a freak?

mingus and her paw-paw are very similar people, from their well-intentioned extremism, to their stubbornness and paranoia, to their inability to view themselves as anything more than a vessel for that grand cause they believe in (callum in the dialup, mingus in restoring her paw-paw's memory) - which is funny, because if mingus was able to view callum, and herself, as a flawed human person, she would come to understand how similar they really are.

:(

[girlactionfigure]

how to be an ally

LISTEN TO US

Antisemitism has been on the rise for the past few years, but since October 7, antisemitism is at the highest levels it has been since the 1930s. Yes, it’s that bad. If you haven’t heard about it, or if you don’t see it, ask yourself why, instead of casting doubt on us. 

Believe us. 

The Jewish community is hurting. Since October 7, especially, we have been gaslit on a global, unprecedented scale. After Hamas live-streamed a massacre, we are being told, globally, that it didn’t happen. Or that it wasn’t as bad as we think. Or that we deserved it. Or that we did it to ourselves.

When college students demand a global “intifada,” a term used to denote two violent Palestinian uprisings that predominantly targeted Israeli civilians, we are told “intifada” just means “to shake off.” When Hamas terrorists are caught on camera, various times, calling Israeli female hostages “sabaya,” a term Islamists use to describe sex slaves, we are told we misheard it. When an international team of forensic pathologists confirmed that Israeli children were decapitated, we are told we lied about it. We are told we lied about the rapes on October 7, despite the preponderance of eyewitness testimony, forensic evidence (e.g. broken pelvises, mutilated genitals, bloody underwear, semen on a girl’s back), and perpetrator admissions. No matter the evidence, the world keeps moving the goalposts. 

Our words are scrutinized under a microscope, and are received with doubt or outright denial. The gaslighting is such that we feel like we are living in a parallel universe.

So when we tell you how bad it is…just listen to us. Even if you don’t understand. Even if you don’t see it. Believe that we know our own experience better than you do. 

STOP POINTING FINGERS. START WITH YOU

We are so, so tired of fake allies who are quick to point to the antisemitism of others but won’t even begin to deconstruct their own biases. Antisemitism is very, very old, and very, very embedded into nearly every culture, so it’s likely that you have antisemitic biases, whether big or small. That goes for Jews as well!

This is not a personal accusation, and I’m not calling you a bad person. But sincere allyship begins with you. It’s very easy to point fingers. It’s a whole lot harder to take a hard look at your own actions and beliefs.

An example: several years ago, Shaun King was accused of antisemitism on Twitter (for the millionth time!). Instead of apologizing and holding himself accountable, he rebuked those accusations, saying, “I fight Nazis every day.”

In other words: instead of seeing where he could do better, or where he went wrong, Shaun King deflected by pointing to the antisemitism of Nazis. And yes, of course Nazis are antisemitic. But just because Nazis are antisemitic doesn’t mean that Shaun King can’t be antisemitic, too.

Something incredibly frustrating is that politicians on both sides of the political aisle use our existence and our experience of bigotry as a “gotcha” against their opponents. Instead of addressing the antisemitism on their side of the aisle — and it certainly exists on both sides of the aisle — they will relentlessly point to the antisemitism of their opponents, without ever addressing the antisemitism of their allies. But if they were truly serious about fighting antisemitism, politicians, whether left or right, would begin by addressing the antisemitism on their side before pointing fingers to prove a point. That’s not fighting antisemitism. That’s exploiting our pain. 

DO NOT SPEAK FOR US

People have been speaking for Jews for 2000 years. But we have our own voices, and we can speak for ourselves. The problem is that we are 0.2% of the world population (and, in the United States, 2.4% of the population). Though for centuries antisemites have depicted Jews as powerful puppeteers pulling the strings, and though we are accused of running the media, the truth is that we are vastly outnumbered and our voices are drowned out. 

According to the ADL Global Index on Antisemitism, 1.09 billion people across the world hold antisemitic attitudes. There are 15 million Jews in the world. Others’ narratives about us are far louder than our own narratives. That’s a problem.

As an ally, we don’t need you to speak for us. But we do appreciate you giving us the space — and, if you have it, the platform — to speak for ourselves.

Facts don’t lie; antisemites do. A recent Jerusalem Post study found that, since October 7, 46.2% of New York Times articles were empathetic toward Palestinians alone; whereas only 10.5% were empathetic predominantly toward Israelis. In other words, the Israeli narrative of events is getting buried. 

Similarly, the recent viral AI post, “All eyes on Rafah” had over 47 million shares. There are 15 million Jews in the world. A similar “pro-Israel” post, “Where were your eyes on October 7?” was shared only 500,000 times before being removed by instagram. 

Our community is small and our voices get drowned out. Give space to our voices, rather than create even more noise. Nobody is more qualified to speak of the Jewish experience than we are. 

SUPPORTING US PRIVATELY IS EASY. SUPPORTING US PUBLICLY IS MUCH MORE IMPORTANT 

Look, I get it. Vocally supporting the Jewish community at this time is not necessarily the popular thing to do. Because of the tremendous suffering of Palestinians, anyone who shows empathy toward Jews — yes, including Israeli Jews, who not only form half of the worldwide Jewish population, but are also hurting tremendously right now — can come with consequences. You might be ostracized. You might be put on a “Zionist” blacklist, as they are popping up in just about every industry, ranging from Hollywood to psychology. 

But while you have the option to “opt out,” we don’t. We don’t get to keep quiet, because this literally affects our lives and our safety. It’s getting increasingly frustrating to receive messages of “support” who will never publicly raise their voices in our defense. In remaining silent, you are contributing to an environment of fear and ostracism. That doesn’t help us.

Let me address a couple of things before you get confused.

(1) in the previous slide, I said that we can speak for ourselves; you don’t need to speak for us. In this one, I’m asking you to speak up. So what’s the deal?

Instead of, say, making a post about what is or isn’t antisemitism yourself, you can share one of our posts or even invite us to collaborate on your account. You can also publicly say “hey, this isn’t right,” or “Jewish people need support,” both in real life and online, or something of the sort, without making yourself out to be an expert over Jewish people. 

(2) you don’t have to be an expert on the Israeli-Palestinian conflict to recognize Jews are hurting and to publicly voice support. If you don’t know what’s going on, I’d rather you not spread misinformation, but you don’t have to know the history or the facts on the ground to tell Jews that you see our hurt, and that you’re not okay with people hurting us. 

DO NOT TOKENIZE US

Antisemitism is a bigotry that has killed millions of Jews throughout history. It’s not a valid punishment for behavior or political views you dislike. All Jews should be protected from antisemitism, whether you like us as individuals or not. Period.

Before you share a Jewish person’s voice, ask yourself this: why am I sharing this? Am I sharing this because this person validates myviews? Am I sharing this to prove a point? Am I sharing this to show people, hey, this person agrees with me, so I can’t be antisemitic?

The truth is Jews can be antisemitic. Jews can perpetuate harmful behaviors and views that hurt the wider Jewish community. There were pro-Nazi Jews. There were pro-Stalin Jews. There are now pro-Hamas, pro-Islamic Republic, pro-Houthi, and pro-Hezbollah Jews. There have always been Jews who, for one reason or another, including internalized antisemitism, jeopardized the safety of their own community. 

If your objective is to “gain” something from associating yourself with any given Jewish person, that’s not allyship. It’s weaponization and tokenism. Allyship isn’t meant to be about you; it’s meant to be about the group you’re supporting.

You should support Jews because we are human beings, and our safety matters. Not because you’re trying to get something out of us. Period. 

LEARN ABOUT ANTISEMITIC TROPES AND CONSPIRACIES 

I cannot stress this enough. This is the single most useful thing you can do to support the Jewish people, in my opinion. Antisemitism can be hard to catch because it generally looks quite different than other forms of bigotry, and it’s constantly evolving. It’s hard to keep up with all the conspiracies — because, most often than not, antisemitism presents via conspiracy theories — so learning the “formula” of antisemitic tropes, stereotypes, and conspiracies is extremely helpful. Once you become familiar with this, it’ll be much easier for you to recognize this insidious, mutating hatred.

Personally, I like to use this formula: 

Please note: antisemitism doesn’t usually look like unabashed Jew-hatred. Antisemitism moves through conspiracies and euphemisms, whether “globalists,” “cosmopolitans,” “communists,” “capitalists,” and yes, “Zionists.”

LEARN HOW TO CRITICIZE ISRAEL

Like every other sovereign nation on planet earth, Israel is not above criticism.

It’s very important to familiarize yourself with antisemitic tropes, conspiracies, and stereotypes so that you can criticize Israel in a legitimate way, rather than in a manner that hurts Jews. 

(1) it’s totally okay to criticize Israeli policies, actions, politicians, and societal issues. However, make sure that these criticisms are rooted in reality, because there is so much disinformation about Israel 

(2) it’s not okay to call for Israel’s destruction, deny Jews the right to self-determine, or revise Jewish history to satisfy your narrative 

(3) it’s not okay to scapegoat Israel for issues unrelated to Israel, as well as to ascribe sinister motives to every single thing Israel does 

(4) it’s not okay to engage in Holocaust inversion; that is, accusing Israelis or Israel of being like Nazi Germany. Full stop

(5) it’s not okay to subject Israel to double standards not expected of any other democratic nation 

(6) it’s not okay to project antisemitic tropes, conspiracies, and stereotypes onto the Jewish state

When you project antisemitism onto Israel, chances are this will not improve anything in Israeli society; however, what it will do is it will hurt Jews. 

JUST BE THERE FOR US

Since October 7, the Jewish community has felt especially lonely. We feel that we’ve been abandoned by all our historic allies. We’ve been ostracized from our friend groups — or we’ve cut ties ourselves, because we don’t feel safe — and from our industries, which are becoming increasingly hostile to Jews who do not pass their political litmus tests, litmus tests with ever moving goalposts. 

We need support. Reach out to us, regularly. Lend an ear. Take us out for coffee. Let us know that you haven’t abandoned us. 

We also feel physically unsafe. As of June 1, at least twelve synagogues have been set on fire (or been attempted to set on fire), from Tunisia to Canada. Jews in the Diaspora have been murdered, kidnapped, and raped. These attacks have received little, if any, media coverage. Do what you can to physically protect our safety. 

Though most of us have absolutely no control over the policies of the Israeli government, our businesses are being targeted around the world. You can support our businesses that have been the target of antisemitic boycotts. 

[anthurak]

So by this point, I think many of us are likely familiar with the idea that the breakup of Team RWBY at the end of Volume 3 is meant to thematically parallel the breakup of Team STRQ in the wake of Summer’s death, ie; Ruby falls into a coma for a few days while Summer disappears and then both their teams fracture. Along with a popular sub-theory that Blake leaving Yang after the Fall is meant to parallel Raven leaving Tai.

But the thing is, if Ruby falling into a coma at the end of Volume 3 is meant to parallel Summer’s (supposed) death and the way this loss caused the fracturing and breakup of their respective teams, then Raven’s actions DON’T really parallel Blake nearly as well as a lot of people think.

And in fact, I feel like Qrow could potentially have paralleled Blake’s actions FAR better.

Like people talk about how Raven ‘abandoned’ Tai just like Blake ran away from Yang after the Fall of Beacon. Except if the point of parallel to the Fall of Beacon is Summer’s death, then the parallel doesn’t work because Raven was ALREADY GONE from Team STRQ by the time Summer disappeared. To the point where Tai, Qrow and Ozpin had (and still have) NO IDEA she was even involved in whatever happened to Summer. Raven can’t exactly have abandoned Tai just like Blake did to Yang if Raven wasn’t even around.

Instead, as I’ve discussed in the past, I think Raven’s actions following Summer’s ‘death’ potentially line up far better with WEISS. Like if it turns out that losing Summer was what actually drove Raven to return to her tribe, then that lines up very nicely with Weiss being taken back to her family/Atlas in the wake of the Fall of Beacon: Both return to the shitty, abusive family that raised them. And given how much of Weiss’s character is tied up in her family and their ‘legacy’, then the way Raven eventually took over her tribe makes her an ideal foil; effectively representing a Weiss who did eventually take over the Schnee family and company, but in the process internalized all the pain and trauma her family gave her.

And as for a cherry on top; if Ruby falling into a coma after the Fall of Beacon is meant to parallel Summer’s supposed ‘death’, then what was one of the last things Ruby did at the Fall?

Run off on a special mission with Weiss, just like we now know Summer did with Raven.

Now going back to my point about how Raven was not even around to abandon Tai just like Blake did to Yang, you know who WAS presumably around when Summer ‘died’?

Yeah; Qrow.

Let’s consider what exactly Blake actually did following the Fall of Beacon beyond just a surface-level reading: Yes, she did go back to her family, similar to what Raven may have done, but given that the Belladonnas are NOT actually shitty and abusive, I maintain that Weiss is still the better parallel to Raven. Instead, let’s consider Blake’s whole arc across Volumes 4 and 5 relating to the White Fang: At first being depressed over loss and perceived failure before being inspired to start working for a better cause, in this case pushing back against and stopping Adam’s takeover of the White Fang.

So I have to wonder; what if this reflects what Qrow did with Ozpin and the conspiracy following Summer’s ‘death’? Maybe Qrow and his teammates had helped Ozpin in the past and knew what he was doing, but what if THIS was the point where Qrow became fully committed to Ozpin’s cause and joined the Ozluminati full-time? Perhaps seeing it as a way of ‘honoring’ Summer’s memory.

Instead of staying with the one teammate he had left (and possible partner) who was now in a massive depressive spiral AND had two kids to take care of.

It starts to make Qrow and Tai feel a lot like Blake and Yang, doesn’t it?

This is one of the big reasons why I think Qrow and Tai are the REAL foil to Bumbleby on Team STRQ. They effectively give us a look at a version of Blake and Yang whose relationship failed. Or rather, were never able to ‘take the next step’ and actually form their relationship.

Qrow is a Blake who fully internalized her self-loathing and belief that she didn’t deserve Yang or that Yang was better off without her and has simply been pining for Yang from afar.

Meanwhile Tai is a Yang who likewise fully internalized her fears of abandonment and fully resents Blake for leaving her or may not have ever even fully recognized her feelings for Blake in the first place.

Essentially, Qrow and Tai are the version of Blake and Yang who weren’t able to work through all the problems, issues and baggage which allowed them to actually start their relationship. Like a Blake who didn’t get that vital pep-talk from Sun at the end of Volume 4, or a Yang who likewise didn’t get that vital talk from Weiss in Volume 5.

Which in turn leads us to what I brought up earlier with Qrow joining up with the Ozluminati full-time, essentially representing a Blake who threw herself into reforming the White Fang instead of returning to Team RWBY and reconnecting with Yang. Meanwhile Tai simply throws himself into a deep depression, grief and ‘moping’, ironically all the things he would later accuse Yang of doing (at some point I’m going to do a post on just how much PROJECTING Tai has likely been doing…)

So now Qrow and Tai have this low-key toxic relationship where Qrow is more-or-less aware of Tai’s extremely dysfunctional parenting but has also been enabling it and a lot of Tai’s unhealthy coping mechanisms over the years because he’s been pining for Tai ever since their Beacon days and still is pining in a very depressed, self-loathing ‘I don’t deserve him/to be happy’ way and also doesn’t want to risk conflict with his former partner and also the only teammate he has left.

Thus Qrow keeps his distance and just goes along with Tai’s dysfunctions and/or lets Tai push him away. Which in turn just reinforces Tai’s abandonment issues.

And Ruby and Yang are still stuck with utterly dysfunctional parental figures.

Oh, and if you need more proof about the deliberate parallels between Blake and Qrow…

Then how about the whole damn song where they sing about how they’ve always felt terrible about themselves but now things are looking up for them.

[she-posts-nerdy-stuff]

A few interesting parallels in the SoC duology that I don’t think I’ve seen anyone talk about yet

(Analysis/discussion of these parallels/quotes may come later if anyone's interested)

“These creatures were made to be weapons” - Jarl Brum on Grisha, Six of Crows chapter 35

“He looked like what he truly was: a weapon” - Jesper Fahey on the Khergud, Crooked Kingdom chapter 36

“Welcome to the Hellshow” - Kaz to Nina, Six of Crows chapter 6

“Welcome to the Ice Court, Nina Zenik” - Matthias to Nina, Six of Crows chapter 34

“Is this a play?” - Alys Van Eck “Yes love, and you’re the star” - Jesper Fahey, Crooked Kingdom chapter 8 when Alys is taken captive

“What was this but a play Kaz had staged, with that poor sucker Kuwei as the star?” - Jesper Fahey on the auction plan, Crooked Kingdom chapter 36

“he looked like a priest come to preach to group of circus performers” - Inej on Kaz’s appearance in comparison to the rest of the Barrel, Six of Crows chapter 2

“started to preach” - Inej on Kaz leading a coup against Per Haskell, Crooked Kingdom chapter 27

“Whoever he had become, Matthias was not going to shoot someone unarmed. He'd not yet sunk so far” - Matthias Helvar, Six of Crows chapter 29

“I am unarmed” - Matthias Helvar, Crooked Kingdom chapter 38

"I didn't even know the rules of Makker's Wheel" - Jesper Fahey on his first night gambling in the Barrel, Six of Crows chapter ()

"He knew his guns better than he knew the rules of Makker's Wheel" - Jesper Fahey on the concept of aim and its relationship to his life and his zowa/Grisha abilities, Crooked Kingdom chapter 36

“a tiny voice inside him said he should offer to take the drug as well […] maybe he could have helped to draw the parem out of Nina’s system and set her free. But that was a hero’s voice and Jesper had long since stopped thinking he had the makings of a hero” - Jesper Fahey, Six of Crows chapter 44

“Matthias gave you the remaining parem, didn’t he?” “So?” “[…] I can’t let my father down again. I need the parem as a security measure” “No” “Why the hell not?” - Jesper and Kaz in discussion about the auction plan, Crooked Kingdom chapter 30

I'll probably be back to add more, feel free to add your own as well

[lady-pug]

Written Between the Lines

Chapter III - Parallel Lines Intertwined

Summary: You are now betrothed to Aemond, with the promise of being crowned together when time comes, your family no longer headed unquestionably on warpath, but now you can’t help but wonder if this is truly what he wants, if he’s as happy as you are with this arrangement.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Word count: 3,6k

Warnings: canon-typical incest (uncle-niece), nudity, making out, allusions to sex, canon-typical misogyny regarding sex and female virginity, some steaminess (but nothing more than that really)

Notes: Another chapter is here! Yay!

I’m tagging this as mature because there’s some steaminess in it but not full blown smut (yet).

I’ve accidentally fallen in love with these two and cannot stop thinking about them, I have so many installments planned out you guys have no idea.

I decided to use some High Valyrian as I had mentioned before Aemond and reader are used to speaking it with one another (does it break consistency, as I haven’t used it until now? yes, but better late than never). For this I used an online translator (I don’t know if it’s grammatically correct, I’ll just roll with it, if someone spots any mistakes please let me know and I’ll correct it right away), translations are in the end notes.

Thank you so so much for reading and I hope you have enjoyed this story! <3

Next chapter | Previous chapter | Masterlist | Read on AO3

The steaming water was doing wonders for your sore muscles. You hadn’t realized how tense you had been until you had reached your chambers and felt as if a weight had been lifted off your chest, your shoulders slumping with the force of everything falling into place. No sooner had you stepped foot inside your room you requested that the maids fix you a bath, the water steaming hot. Now, with your body submerged and the steam clouding your thoughts, you felt like you could finally breathe properly. 

It had worked. Your mad, crazy, stupid idea had worked. At least as well as one could expect. Alicent and Otto, of all people, had agreed to it, and now it seemed like there would no longer be a war inside House Targaryen. The promise of their blood eventually occupying the Iron Throne seemed to appease them enough to, most likely, support your mother’s claim as King Viserys’ heir, apparently no longer questioning her legitimacy as ruler just because she was not a man.

But now, alone in your chambers, you were no longer sure of yourself. While, yes, this idea could just fix things within your shattered family, you weren’t exactly sure if everyone involved was on-board with it. 

After your dance with Aemond was cut short due to the King feeling unwell and needing to be escorted back to his chambers, to which Alicent nudged Rhaenyra to follow and spend some moments with him (something that lit a flicker of hope in your chest that things could indeed be mended), you hadn’t managed to speak to him for the rest of the night. Once you returned to the table, you caught Luke giggling under his breath, and when you realized what exactly he was laughing at you were quick to pull him from his seat and request a dance. You swiftly poked Helaena on your way to the open area of the room, who in turn pulled Aemond for a dance before he could notice, signaling her mother to alert the servants to move the offending dish to the middle of the table and away from his seat.

The night ended not long after, Baela and Rhaena keeping you company, the three of you giggling like little girls at the thought of your respective betrothals. However, once you were all excused by the Queen, you didn’t even manage to catch a glimpse of Aemond, who was whisked away by his grandsire with his mother following behind them.

And here you were. Although you had no doubt this plan of yours was the right thing to do, you couldn’t help but wonder if it was what he wanted. Even though you knew this was the right thing for the realm, for your family even, was it the right thing for the two of you? As you stared at your face reflected upon the surface of the water, dark thoughts simmered in your mind. Perhaps you had been blinded by his words regarding his mother’s wishes to find him a wife, or by the resentment he felt towards the treatment his brother received. What if he wanted nothing to do with you? What if he wanted to ascend to the Throne of his own accord, or what if he wanted to be wed to someone else, one of Borros Baratheon’s daughters, maybe?

At least there's no doubt about the purity of their blood.

He could have any woman on the realm if he wished. He was just so regal, all sharp edges and cunning eye, and you were merely… you, your mind tried to convince you.

Would you give up your freedom and be trapped in a loveless marriage just for the sake of your family and the realm?

Not loveless, that nagging voice in the back of your mind spoke out of turn again, just unrequited.

The answer was most definitely yes. You’d rather have him, even if not the whole of his being, than not have him at all. And if you could prevent the realm, and your own family, to succumb into flames and ashes in the process? All the more reason to do so.

Lost in your thoughts you barely heard the unmistakable sound of stone sliding against stone, as the wall suddenly pulled back to reveal the man in question.

“A-Aemond?” you stammered, sliding further into the water in order to preserve some shred of your dignity “What are you doing here?”

A deep, low hum was his only response as he stepped further into the room and closed the secret door behind him. The soft patter against the stone cold floor indicated that he was barefoot; that, along with the white linen shirt and soft looking breeches he was wearing, meant he was just about to go to bed before he decided to come visit you, for whatever reason.

“Qȳbor…” you bristled when he refused to elaborate.

“Can I not visit my future wife’s chambers to check on her well-being, mandianna?” he spoke lowly, his eye never leaving your frame.

“We are not yet married.” you squirmed under the intensity of his gaze “This hardly seems proper.”

He again only hummed, eye flitting around the room, before pulling his shirt over his head.

A sudden heat rushed to your cheeks as you stared at him. Much like you had noticed before, he was slim, his form lithe and elongated, making him appear even taller now that he wasn’t covered in green leather. His muscles, on the other hand, were well defined, taunt under his skin as if sculpted in the finest of marbles, his years of training with a sword under Ser Criston Cole reflected on his flesh.

His lips pulled in a smirk as you basked in his image, swiftly untying and pulling down his breeches as well. That caused you to avert your eyes immediately, going as far as to hide your peripheral vision behind your hand.

“What are you doing?!” you squealed in surprise, not at all expecting him of all people to pull a stunt like this. Aegon? Sure, but him?

“You once told me it was nothing you hadn’t seen before.” he spoke, amusement dripping from his tone as he walked closer to the tub.

“Yes, when we were children. Not like this.”

You felt the ripples of warm water beating against your skin as he joined you in the bath, leaning back against the side of the wooden tub with his legs extended in front of him, only slightly bent at the knees as they brushed softly against your own. You quickly pulled your knees to your chest, trying to put as much distance between the two of you as possible.

“Why do you hide from me?” he asked, his lips curling in a smirk “You are to be my lady wife, we ought to see each other like this on many occasions.”

“Like I said” you hissed, crossing your arms over your breasts and straightening your spine, his eye following your every move “we are not married yet.” 

He hummed in response, pursing his lips as if annoyed with your resistance, but you could see the mirth swimming in his eye. He extended his arms over the rim of the tub on either side of his body, and when your eyes involuntarily followed his movement, retaining your gaze on his chest for a tad too long, he smirked. Heat burned your cheeks as you averted your eyes, realizing that he enjoyed watching you squirm.

“Why are you here?” you questioned, annoyance simmering in your voice.

He stared at you for a long moment, like he was assessing you, searching for something, but what you couldn’t tell.

“I wanted to see you.” he spoke before glancing away from you, his once jesting tone having turned soft, betraying his sincerity.

That statement had you feeling all your annoyance dissolving, your body uncurling and legs extending closer to him. If you were to be honest with yourself you wanted to see him too, you desperately wished to know what was going through his mind during supper and after. You wished to know what he thought about you.

His mind seemed far away for a moment as he chewed on his lip before his gaze fell on you once more.

“My grandsire had interesting things to say about your proposal.” the corner of his mouth turned up almost imperceptibly “More so than my mother.”

That caught your attention.

“What did he say?”

“She was, albeit vexed by your choice of timing for the delivery of said proposal, delighted.” he completely ignored your question, choosing instead to talk about Alicent Hightower instead of Otto “Like I mentioned earlier, she’s been nagging me to find a wife, and now you’ve just delivered the solution on a silver platter for her.” his smile softened “She wished to know if I was happy with this arrangement.”

“And what did you say?” your throat felt as dry as the Dornish desert, and you wondered if he could hear you swallow nervously. But from the way his grin turned again into a smirk you knew you wouldn’t get the answers you craved for.

“My grandsire on the other hand was perfectly satisfied.” he shrugged, as if Otto Hightower’s opinion didn’t truly matter to him “He believes the Seven have answered mother’s prayers of having one of us be crowned king, and that this gives us the perfect opportunity to seize the throne for ourselves.”

“What?” you physically recoiled, shoulders curling into yourself once more, as if you were physically struck by his words.

“He told me” he continued, either not noticing your reaction or wanting to push forward regardless “that when time came for us to be crowned, you and I, I was to usurp you of your ‘birthright’ and be crowned the sole King of the Seven Kingdoms.”

You let your arms drop from their position over your chest, not even being able to revel in the way pink dusted Aemond’s cheeks as his eye followed down our body to your now exposed breasts, so much was your shock. You felt so stupid, so humiliatingly naive in having believed such a ridiculous idea could ever work. Otto Hightower would never respect you, or your mother, or any possible daughters you came to have simply because you were all women. Just remembering the way you stood before him, before your entire family, before Aemond himself and said those foolish and rehearsed words, dragged yourself practically as low as the streets at Flea Bottom, made your eyes sting in embarrassment. 

You were so caught up in your own swirling thoughts you barely noticed Aemond’s smirk slipping from his face, a frown now adorning his features.

“You cannot possibly believe I would do such a thing.” he let his own arms fall back into the water, his back straightening as he looked at you almost… hurt? “Do you truly think so lowly of me?”

You couldn’t hold his stare any longer, shame clawing at your chest and climbing up your throat. The truth was you didn’t know him. It’s been six long years since you’d last spoken, you couldn’t possibly know who he was anymore. Had he turned out like Aegon? Or had his grandsire shaped him in his image, a mere puppet for him to manipulate and do his bidding for him?

His stare hardened, a resigned exhale leaving him as extended a hand in your direction.

“Come here.” 

You didn’t dare move a muscle, too scared to embarrass yourself even further. That wouldn’t do it for him tho, if the annoyance that took over his features was anything to go by, and his hand found your ankle underwater and tugged. Hard. Unexpectedly you found yourself almost on top of him, holding onto his naked shoulders for balance as the contents of the tub sloshed around the two of you and over onto the ground.

“Aemond-!” you chastised him, trying to pull away but one of his arms snaked around your waist, holding you firmly in place. Something about the whole situation, the way his eye was locked on yours, as if studying you, felt strangely intimate, making your heart skip a beat. 

Then, with the lightest of touches, he grabbed one of your hands almost reverently, removing it from its place on his shoulder and holding it in his own, the back of your hand against his palm so your own was facing up. He brought it closer to his face, examining it closely, his thumb caressing your skin in slow movements. Where his palms were calloused, you noticed, his fingers were silkily soft, the gentleness in his touch making shivers run down your spine and goosebumps prickle your skin all the way up your arm.

“Your line of life is quite long, thankfully.” he hummed, not taking his eye off your palm, so he didn’t notice the confusion brimming in your eyes “And your line of heart not only tilts upwards, but it is also incredibly long, almost touching the place where your palm meets your fingers, right here.” 

“And what does that mean?” you whispered, not daring to speak any louder for it might break the spell that befell upon the two of you.

“You will be the most beloved woman in the entire realm.” he whispered back, his eye finally meeting yours, a storm of emotions threatening to spill over in the form of unshed tears “Your lord husband would burn the whole of the Seven Kingdoms to the ground just to see you smile.” 

Wetness dripped down your cheeks but you could no longer distinguish between tears and the lukewarm water from the bath. Your heart clenched and twisted painfully in your chest as his gaze turned to your palm once more.

“And would you look at that,” Aemond gently turned your palm towards you, pointer finger tapping against a faint line near your wrist “it’s the line of the king. Or should I say queen.” he glanced at you once more, a soft smile growing on his lips “You once told me it only appeared on the hands of those destined to rule over the realm.” 

You bit down hard on your bottom lip, a choked sob threatening to escape, desperately clinging to his every word.

“I may not be like my sister, for the future eludes me.” the arm around your waist tightened its grip, bringing you even closer to him as he rested his forehead against your own, bringing your intertwined hands close to his chest “But if there is one thing I can promise you is that you will be queen.” his next breath came out of his lips trembling with barely contained emotion “And I’ll be right by your side when that happens.”

The sound that left your lips was a perfect blend of a laugh and a sob, your lips quivering as you tried so very hard not to collapse into his arms as all your previous worries vanished. His own face lit up in a genuine, full blown smile that brightened his face; you couldn’t even remember when the last time he allowed himself to smile as brightly as he was now. It suited him.

Warmth filled your chest, quickly climbing up to your face, as he nuzzled his nose against yours, but one detail made you pull back. His face twisted in confusion, your hand reaching up to cup his cheek, thumb tracing the line of his scar.

“I wish to see all of you.” you spoke softly.

“You already have me bare before you, woman. What more could you possibly want?” Aemond tried jesting but you could notice the way his entire body tensed against your touch.

“I want to see all of you.” you whispered, thumb catching against the edge of his eyepatch.

Before you could lift it, though, his hand shot out unexpectedly, halting your movements by encircling your wrist. His fingers were firm against your skin, but his touch didn’t hurt; you didn’t think he ever could, not again. You didn’t press any further, nor did you retreat, waiting for him to either give you permission to continue or push you away. He did neither. Instead, his other hand reached up and removed the eyepatch from his face, throwing it somewhere around the room.

You didn’t truly know what exactly you were expecting but were surprised all the same. Where you believed you’d find an empty socket lay a small round sapphire, hidden from the world beneath his eyepatch most of the time. It was alluring, glimmering under the light emitted from the candles, contributing to his mystifying nature. His grip on your wrist loosened, and you took this as an opportunity to cradle his jaw, tilting his head to be able to see his eye from different angles. The gem suited him, the deep blue contrasting with the violet of his other eye.

“Has anyone ever told you how handsome you are?” you breathed out.

“Not a single soul.” he shook his head, his own breath coming out trembled.

“Well, then, they are utterly blind, the lot of them.” you caressed the corner of his mouth, bringing your own lips impossibly closer to his “You are beautiful, Aemond.”

Something shifted in him, the last of his restrain melting away under your touch, as he leaned forward and closed the gap between your lips, sealing them in a tentative kiss. His lips were a contradiction on their own. For a man so taunt and sharp and strong, his lips were incredibly soft, akin to his voice, as strange as the comparison sounded. He kissed you unhurriedly, almost chastely, his hands finding hold in your waist. You pulled back for a moment and his lips chased your own, unwilling to part from you just yet. 

His mouth then started tracing a path of lazy kisses down your body, first against your jaw, then slowly down your neck. It was when his grip on your waist tightened, trying to bring your hips closer to his own, that you pulled back, a hand against his chest.

“We can’t.” you mumbled regretfully. He tried sitting up again, get closer to you once more, but you pushed him back gently, cupping his face in both your hands “Aemond, please.” 

“Why must you deprive me of what I long for so desperately?” he whined against your lips.

“I cannot risk losing you…” you exhaled, voice barely above a whisper. 

It was his turn to pull back, eyebrows curling in confusion, and you knew he wouldn’t let you go without an explanation.

“When I was close to reaching marrying age, mother pulled me aside to explain some of the more… intricate details of what goes on between a husband and a wife.” you shrugged, the same embarrassment you felt back then flooding you now, before you sighed “She also told me what befell her before she married my father.”

Realization dawned upon him, remembering all the times his mother uttered words unbefitting of a queen to address not only her successor, the future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, but also a former dear friend. Words more suited to the women who worked on the Street of Silk. From what he had gathered over the years this was the very last nail on the coffin of their friendship.

“I will not allow the same to happen to me.” your tone and your eyes alike hardened, fingers grasping his face more firmly as you forced his gaze to remain on you. Not that he could look at anything else with the way you spoke with such determination “I will not allow my virtue to be made a spectacle of, I will not give the opportunity for some lesser man from a little house to question it, to question me.”

Aemond couldn’t help but swallow thickly, the fierceness in your voice doing humorous things to his heart. 

“If I was born a man this wouldn’t be a concern, but alas I was not.” something in you softened, fingers letting go of his cheeks and sliding softly to cradle the place where his jaw met his ears “If your mother so much as hears word of any misdemeanor, at least in her eyes, on my part she will tear us apart. Kesan daor ivestragī zirȳla gūrogon ao hen nyke.”

I will not let her take you from me.

When questioned later, he wouldn’t be able to tell you what came over him, but something inside his very soul snapped as he surged forward, claiming your lips in a desperate kiss. His lips moved against yours with the intensity of a man starved, like he was overcome in a thirst only your mouth could quench. It was passionate, it was harsh, it was… honestly kind of clumsy, all tongue and clashing teeth, like he didn’t truly know what he was doing. Huh. You would store this information away for later.

He pulled back with the last bit of self control he had, practically whimpering when your lips parted, resting his head on the crook of your neck. 

“Kesan umbagon.” his breath was labored as he spoke, placing a tiny kiss on your shoulder before raising his head to look at you “I will always wait for you, ābrazȳrys.”

Your heart soared at the term, but when he went to gently move you away from him so he could stand up you gripped his hand to stop him.

“Stay.” you pleaded “Just a little while longer, please.”

Aemond smiled lovingly, helping maneuver you so you were sat between his legs, with your back against his chest, his chin resting on your shoulder. His arms wrapped protectively around you, his fingers absently drawing patterns against the skin of your arm. The water from the tub had since run cold but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Not when you were in his arms.

Aōha valzȳrys. Aōha dārys.

High Valyrian translations: - qȳbor - uncle (mother’s younger brother) - mandianna - niece (older sister’s son or daughter) - kesan umbagon - I will wait - ābrazȳrys - wife - aōha valzȳrys - your husband - aōha dārys - your king

Also, this two were getting quite steamy while Viserys was literally dying in the other room. At least this time Rhaenyra was the one with him so, you know, no mixing up names this time (I stand by my argument that if Alicent’s eldest son was called Godofredo none of this would have happened, but the Targaryens were not known for their creativity when naming their children).

Tag List:

@callsignwidow

@sleephereicome

[museofthepyre]

Every day I wake up with a start, drenched in a cold sweat, plagued by a reoccurring nightmare about the most baffling CHNT take I’ve ever seen, which basically went… ahem.

“So what if Jedidiah is avoiding and ignoring Sydney 😒? That’s not neglect, because he owes Sydney nothing. Jedidiah owes Sydney nothing. He has no obligation whatsoever to be there for Sydney, and it’s manipulative of Sydney to be upset about his absence.”

Ahhhhh yes. Indubitably. Y’know now that I think about it….

Y’know how food is used to symbolize love a lot in CHNT? And, do y’all remember file 18, when we got all those analogies for Sydney and Jedidiah’s current-day relationship in the form of childhood stories? Specifically that one where Jedidiah became so attached to a fruit fly that he couldn’t bare to let it go… so he put it in a container, kept it trapped, neglected to feed it, and watched it throw itself against the walls until it died of starvation?

Yeah. That starving insect was emotionally manipulating child Jedidiah by acting out in distress. I mean, throwing itself against the walls like that? Totally uncalled for. Jedidiah had absolutely no obligation to care for it. So what if he leaves it alone in there? That’s not neglect— he owes it nothing!!!!!

Wait. What do you mean he put the fly in the container. What do you mean he took on the responsibility of feeding it when he trapped it in a container, and took away its freedom to fly around and seek food for itself. All so he could keep the fly forever and never let it go. Without giving it a say, simply because he can’t handle saying goodbye. What do you mean the fly was acting erratically because it was starving and crying out for help. For the ONE PERSON who could feed it to just *notice*, and offer any sustenance at all. Or to just set it free. Errrrm… that’s actually emotional manipulation and we need to hold that villainous little fruit fly accountable.

Also side question what the fuck is a literary device and what do the words “analogy” and “metaphor” mean. What is that. Stop cursing at me. Those aren’t real words.

This couldn’t possibly be an “analogy” for how Jedidiah PREFORMED FORBIDDEN MAGIC ON SYDNEY to keep him “alive” and confined to the campgrounds (which he now cannot leave), simply because Jedidiah couldn’t bare to say goodbye. How he leaves him there to starve, all alone for 11 months out of the year, avoiding and ignoring him, PUTTING HIM IN THE CONTAINER AND NEGLECTING TO FEED HIM. Just looking in from the other side of the glass at his own convenience. Then being sad when Sydney acts out and withers, but never thinking to offer sustenance. Food being a metaphor for love, remember. Pfffffffft. That’s impossible and ridiculous!

Cough.

Also another side question what are themes and parallels. And why are there so many throwaway lines in CHNT lollllll like what significance does any of this have? Surely this has no deeper meaning.

Ok sarcastic bit over, that was painful. Media literacy is so dead it is fossilized in the deepest sedimentary layers of the earth’s crust. I’m sorry I hate getting fired up about this stuff but this strikes a NERVE in me.

Sydney has self-destructive and overall unhealthy responses to conflict, which often hurt more than help. Jedidiah owes Sydney his presence after ILLEGAL MAGIC-ING him into a state of pseudo-life and confinement to the campgrounds… for his own keepsake. Not to mention keeping him under the guise of a relationship, leaving him always reaching out an empty hand that’ll never find anything to hold.

They’re both flawed. This story has no blameless perfect protagonist. WHY ARE YOU TRYING TO BUY CLEAR CUT “GOOD GUY” AND “BAD GUY” NARRATIVES AT THE NUANCE STORE. Ok I’m done now

[mentally-gone002]

never too late for solace

summary: peter seeks comfort with his best friend in her bedroom. 

a/n: yes i’m aware of how much i’m active, but im booooored (im just a girl🎀) 😫😫😫 anyway… 🌝 this has been in the good ole drafts for a long ass time and u decided to finish it and get her out there!! pls enjoy😭😭😭

warnings: blood

———————————————————————

it was late. 

the new york sky was dark outside my partially opened window, but my room was lit up. the lamp glowing on my bedside table while i glanced from an open notebook to my laptop. homework at midnight felt different than doing it at any other time, which is why i do it this late. that and because i can’t sleep. 

my window moved upwards and i jumped in surprise of the slight scraping sound interrupting my silent solitude. 

looking up i watched peter, my best friend, slowly climb through the window he’d opened. he was slow moving, quiet and panting. sweat made his brown curls stick to his forehead.

i didn’t say anything as he closed the window and turned to me, staring with his brown bloodshot eyes from across the room. my gut told me something was wrong. 

“it’s late.” i murmured, glancing away to the door, making sure it was closed. 

peter hummed, walking to my bed and sat down. “i know.” peter whispered shakily. 

my lips pursed into a line. in a matter of seconds my book and laptop were closed and thrown to the side. “is something wrong, pete?” i was sitting parallel with him now. 

he shook his head while he stared at the floor. “uncle ben.” peter whispered. i watched his leg bounce up and down quickly, something he did when he was anxious. i reached out to stop him with a hand on his knee. his leg stopped moving. 

“what about uncle ben?” i wondered gently, leaning close to him and watching his profile. 

peter squeezed his eyes shut and pursed his lips. “he’s gone. he’s gone, and it’s my fault.” big tears began to fall from his eyes. 

my heart ached all of a sudden. seeing him like this was rare. the only time i’d ever seen him cry was when he’d fallen after he began skateboarding, back in fourth grade. he skinned his knee pretty badly.

“come here.” it was the only thing i had to say before peter turned his head and hid his face in the curve of my neck. he breathed shaky against my skin and i wrapped an arm around his back. my hand rested on his shoulder, gently squeezing the muscle there. 

my eyes drifted down to peter’s hands and i really focused on them for the first time since he was here. they were stained red and held together in a firm grip. “is that…” i swallowed thickly, trying to think of what he could have been through before finishing my sentence. “is that blood, peter?” 

peter unclasped his hands and rested them palm up. “yes.” he murmured, body shivering. 

“who’s is it?” i asked even though i knew the answer and dreaded hearing it. 

he sniffled, only nodding and i felt my heart break. “uncle ben’s.” he was there when ben died. 

my other arm wrapped around him and my fingers laced together so that i wouldn’t let him go. i rocked back and forth slowly as peter cried. he tried to stay collected but he couldn’t, and i didn’t blame him. i felt his tears soak into the fabric of my shirt as time went on until he went silent, the only sound he made was the occasional deep intake of air. 

“peter?” i dropped my arm holding him that was across his front. he hummed in response to tell me he was listening. “do you wanna sleep here? i can run you a shower and find some clean clothes for you.” i asked. he hummed as a way of saying ‘yes’ with an added nod. i gently kissed the top of his head with the brief turn of my head before i let him go so that i could stand up and take him across the hall to the shower. 

————————————————————————

when peter came back to my room he was in the plaid pants i found him and a baggy long sleeved shirt. his hair was wet and he was staring at the floor. 

“hey,” i caught his attention with a gentle voice. my lips went up in an offered smile. “let’s get some sleep okay?” i asked. 

luckily he returned the smile and crawled into my bed, pulling the comforter up to his nose. he closed his eyes as he inhaled deeply. “will you stay with me? i don’t wanna be alone.” peters voice was muffled by the comforter but i understood. 

“yeah, i’m staying.” i climbed into my bed beside him. “you want the light on or off?” 

“on.” he was quick to answer. he kept his eyes closed and the comforter to his nose, but one of his hands snaked under the covers to find mine. he didn’t interlace our fingers but just held onto me, like he wanted to make sure i really wasn’t going to leave. i squeezed his hand reassuringly, turning onto my side to face him. 

peter opened his eyes to look at me. he smiled and moved closer. “i was bitten by a spider at oscorp.” he whispered, eyes closed as he said it. 

i squeezed his hand. “so something did happen when you went.” 

he nodded. “yeah. it made me… different. i can hear super well, see better… dodge punches.” he murmured slowly. “i can stick to walls.” 

i nodded once his voice stopped. “that’s why you’re not wearing contacts. isn’t it.” 

“how’d you know i stopped?” 

“you haven’t been blinking harshly or rubbing your eyes as much.” i smirked as he opened his eyes. he smiled faintly back at the mention that i noticed this much. “but that’s strange. you have heightened sensed. the sticking to walls is strange.” 

he watched as i adjusted my position slightly. “yeah… it’s weird, i don’t know how to control it. all the keys on my keyboard stuck to my fingers this morning and i shattered my front door earlier tonight.” peter sighed and looked away. “you can’t tell anyone about this.” 

“i won’t. i promise.” i assured. “and if you need help with your… weirdness caused by the spider, i’m here.” my hand squeezed his again as we stared at each others eyes. “and im sorry… about uncle ben.” he smiled a bit and then closed his eyes. 

he whispered, “i’m sorry too” and released my hand before rolling to face away from me. 

i tuned over as well to face in the opposite direction and my eyes fluttered shut. “love you, peter.” 

“love you.” he whispered through a soft laugh. 

we said it all the time, just because. i felt like he needed to hear it more tonight than he did any other day. 

[another-day]

time for another lovely EPISODE IN REVIEW!!! and boy, do we have a lot to discuss for this one

!!!SPOILERS FOR II EPISODE 16!!!

oh my gosh

that episode was insane, i’m still reeling from it, but let’s start from the beginning

i remember seeing a post somewhere where someone was saying 3gs would most likely have a very ‘army general’ type personality, and i think that still holds, just not to the degree i intially thought

he’s someone who focuses on motivation and praise to not only please but get people to follow through. this is not in the way of manipulation, just in order to get what needs to be done, done. expanding on his personality like this was so interesting, especially interspersing his moments of fear with his moments of joy because he hadn’t seen other people in years. it really goes to show how cobs can negatively affect other characters than mephone 4.

trophy has really grown as a character in the sense that he can now see the fundamental flaws in the persona of knife, though i do feel he’s still heavily guided in this by his own values. he has this firm belief that knife is similar if not the exact same as him; angry and violent. he breaks down all of the cracks in knife’s facade, but incorrectly so, which was interesting.

alongside this, knife is shown to still be perceived incorrectly to how wishes to be by many of the contestants. considering he’s trying to make such an effort to change and become a good person only for trophy to treat him like this is clearly dishesrtening to him. as much as he likes to build up his whole tough guy persona, in this episode and the last, we’ve seen that the words of others, especially those he considers allies, can really affect him. granted, trophy is no ally of his, but it still has an impact on him to be so shamelessly called out, even if a lot of it is assumption.

i love that they make everyone’s attempts to comfort suitcase feel so condescending in order to emphasise her confusion and disarray in terms of the situation. this feels like a circus, where suitcase is realising she’s a clown for being fooled. i love her reaction to realising nickel and balloon are friends because she has that underlying anger, yes, but more than anything else she’s confused and upset. soooo cool.

i nearly screamed but it was two in the morning when i was watching this so i did not.

but oh my gosh, the idea of “deleting” a character is horrifying. as taco put it, seeing “the life drain out of him” must’ve been horrifying for her. this, oj’s, and nickel’s deletion are only amped up by this prospect of having people around to see the life drain out of someone they were once friends with.

also why did it have to be pickle. literally what did he do.

also also, now we know what happened to toilet i guess.

forshadowing cobs being able to see wherever they go, alongside how everything of theirs in under control, even if not by cobs.

cobs is meant to parallel mephone 4 in this scene. his advertisment is very “brainwash”-y, and it emphasises what a hold he used to have on people and the control he once held through his creations. similarly so, through the reveal at the end, WHICH I’LL GET TO, we see that mephone similarly has control over all of the contestants, whether direct or otherwise. so very peculiar really.

depicting the death scenes like this was brilliant. a persuing entity, sounded by alarms that only the person who is to be killed can hear is a horrifying concept, and something so horrifying from an outsider perspective.

imagine this from paper’s perspective: you’re arguing with your best friend about the amount of tasks you’ve been given for so little credit, and you finally admit everything that’s been bothering you. instead of the reassurance you usually receive, your friend stands there in shock before asking “do you hear that?” you hear nothing. the fear on his face grows and he backs against the door, crying for something you can’t see to ‘stop’. you’re confused, but before you can question it, he’s dead, spilled. any semblance of life in him as disappeared, and everyone is terrified.

this was so masterfully executed all the times it happened; taco’s incoherency when she was found with pickle, the hotel’s reaction when oj spills, and baseball’s silence and shock as he re-enters after nickel’s death. it sets up a tone of horror, and shows just how unaware everyone truly is. soooooo very cool.

it was so cool seeing the purgatory crew again because i really missed these goofy guys. but it really gets you thinking about what role they’re going to play.

unlike bow, all of the “deleted” contestants have had their melife icons completely removed, so that begs the question; will they be turned into ghosts at purgatory mansion? bow states in the episode that it took her a while to appear in the mansion, so it gets you thinking if deletion counts as a perma-death, and those killed will be turned to ghosts.

knife’s very impersonal handling of this situation versus suitcase’s gentle assurance and questioning really brings out the difference between these two.

this scene is meant to make knife seem foolish for wanting to rush by all this, but that’s not what knife intends to look like, again bringing back this idea of misunderstanding his actions. knife doesn’t like focusing on what’s around him when he’s been given a clear objective, getting information to find cobs in this case. alongside this, he doesn’t have the same understanding of what 3gs has been through as suitcase, yet he tries, to a degree, to understand this individual. when knife isn’t given the information he needs, he looks for his own means of finding it, and moves ahead.

suitcase on the other hand is shown to want to take it slower. unlike knife, she’s more invested in the story than the lesson or outcome. this is something normally detrimental to someone in a finale, but due to their working together, knife doesn’t really get too far ahead of her. she wants to understand motivations for actions so that she can figure out how to respond, whereas knife just wants to, for lack of a better phrase, cut to the the chase. very interesting.

now, the titular reveal of the episode, “the reality of the situation”, if you will.

despite how of guard i was caught, this makes perfect sense.

though i don’t really like season three, cabby has a scene where she freaks out when questioned about her parents. i initially thought this had something to do with her memory issues, but this explanation makes much more sense. bot knew about theur parents because their parents actually exist, cabby’s did not.

no character ever talks about their past, nor their parents, nor their motivation to join the show. it all quite literally starts from the first episode, and picks up from there. that is why mephone can regenerate them. that is why when mephone dies they can’t be regenerated, because as their creator, he was the only one capable of REcreating them. its an incredible reveal, and a very well working one.

all in all, this episode was phenomenal. the chracter work and development and storyline were all so well done and i totally adore it. episode 15 was very character focused and took a step away from the plot. this episode on the other hand took the plot and bolted with it, scattering all slrts of bombshells on the way.

i love this episode because it shows unity and disharmony and everything really feels like its coming together and i’m so excited for the next episode.

till next time lovelies!!!

[awkwardauthorwrites]

Wildest Dreams - Epilogue

Word Count: 2k

Themes: an unbelievable about of fluff

Summary: Set two years after the reunion, and Y/N and Sebastian are (finally) getting married

Warnings: Potential spoilers for HL. All characters are aged up and around 27/28 years old. Quote in bold italics is not mine. It’s from the film Corpse Bride and I love it too much to pass on using it.

Find Part One here and Part Two here

Two Years Later

Sebastian stood by the fountain at the north entrance of Hogwarts castle and couldn’t help but think of the last time he had been here - how it felt like he couldn’t get Y/N out of there fast enough. It was a stark parallel to the present, where he shuffled between his feet with nervous energy and willed her to move a little faster so that he could finally see her. When he approached Headmaster Black about getting married in the gardens he had half expected the man to laugh in his face and reject him. Instead, he clapped him on the shoulder and agreed without a second thought, muttering about how it would do wonders for the image of the school if the Hero of Hogwarts chose to return there for the most important day of her life. Sebastian itched to shake him off and find a different venue instead, but he knew Y/N wanted nothing more than to get married in the first place she had truly called home, and so he begrudgingly thanked his old Headmaster and informed him of their plans. 

They had decided to get married in the summer, partially so they wouldn’t disturb any students, but also because it offered them the best weather for their outdoor ceremony. They would have both much preferred a winter wedding so they could see the grounds covered in snow, but decided it would be easier (and warmer) to get married earlier in the year so they didn’t have to worry about constantly casting warming charms. Sebastian had to admit, the summer flowers added a beautiful touch to the whole affair, his eyes darting over the different array of colours in the gardens around him. 

“Stop moving so much,” Ominous nudged him gently. “You’re making me nervous.”

“You’re nervous?” Sebastian laughed and nudged his friend and brother back. “I’m so sorry for putting you out on my wedding day.”

“Apology accepted.” Ominis smirked at him, his head tilting to the side slightly as the guests in front of them talked amongst themselves. Sebastian began to fiddle with his cufflinks as he watched their guests arrive and take their seats, nodding in greeting to those who caught his eye. “You seem jumpier than usual, are you alright?”

“I can’t wait to see her.”

“I remember that feeling.” He smiled softly to himself as he remembered his own wedding day with Anne, how anxious he had been as he waited for her arrival. He would have much preferred to run away and elope as opposed to having all the attention on them both, but he knew she wanted a proper ceremony and he wanted to do things right by her. “We should be starting soon. Are you ready?”

“I was ready the day she said yes.”

“You’re not going to burst into song, are you?”

“Shut up, you prick.” The pair laughed as the music that was playing quietly in the background swelled and a hush fell over the guests. The officiant walked over to Sebastian and Ominis, a large smile on his face as he shook both of their hands and they waited for the bridal party.

Sebastian watched with bated breath as the doors to the castle swung open right as the enchanted instruments started to play the bridal march. The guests stood and turned to watch Anne walk out first, gently leading both of her twins down the aisle. Arabella threw flower petals at random intervals while Alexander clung to his mothers skirts, a toothy grin coming over the toddler’s face as he noticed both his father and his uncle waiting at the other end of the aisle. Sebastian couldn’t help but laugh as Alexander wrapped his arms around his knees while Arabella ran for her father, the rest of the flower petals forgotten. He scooped his nephew into a hug and pressed a kiss to his chubby cheek before passing him off to Anne who gave his arm a gentle squeeze before standing on the other end of the altar. 

Poppy and Imelda came out next, both of them looking beautiful in their bridesmaid dresses, with the former giving Sebastian an encouraging smile as the latter sent him a glare and mimed that she was watching him. He chuckled and pulled both of the girls in for a hug before they joined Anne, muttering to Imelda about how he knew she was secretly pleased they had finally decided to tie the knot. She flicked his shoulder, but there was an obvious smile on her face as she stood by Anne and Poppy. The music swelled and went quiet for a few moments before picking up again softly as Y/N appeared in the doorway.

Sebastian felt all the breath leave his lungs as she came into view and he unconsciously pressed a hand to his chest as she caught his eye and gave him a heart stopping smile. He felt his eyes burn as she started to walk towards him slowly and willed the music to play faster so she could reach him quicker and he could take her in his arms. Y/N had always been the most beautiful girl he had ever seen - even back when he had first met her - but the words did not do her justice in that moment as she practically floated down the aisle towards him. 

“Breathe, Sebastian.” Ominis nudged him gently and he took in a shaky breath and quickly reached up to brush away a tear before it could escape. He couldn’t look away from her even if he wanted to. He would never be able to put into words how absolutely ethereal she looked, her white dress almost glowing in the afternoon sun. Y/N (finally) neared him and took his hand and Sebastian was hit with a sudden moment of realisation at just how lucky he was. He was so much closer to spending the rest of his life with his best friend and he couldn’t wait. 

“Hey, you.” Y/N smiled shyly at him as she took her place by his side, his hand clutching onto hers tightly. Her gaze softened as she noticed the tears that were threatening to spill from his eyes and reached up to brush them away gently. “Good tears, I hope?”

“Merlin, yes.” Sebastian breathed, his voice cracking slightly due to his emotions. “The best.” He resisted the urge to tug her against him and kiss her like they weren’t surrounded by their friends and family, and instead settled on standing a little closer than necessary and pressing his lips to her knuckles softly. “You are stunning.” 

“Look who’s talking.” Y/N’s gaze ran over his suit appreciatively and his grip on her hand tightened fractionally as he remembered that they needed to get married first before he could whisk her away and have his way with her. He was vaguely aware of the officiant starting the ceremony, sharing anecdotes about love and friendship that he couldn’t pay attention to as he stared at the woman standing in front of him. He didn’t know what he had done in a past life to deserve her, but he would spend every day of the rest of his life - the rest of their lives - showing her just how much she meant to him. 

“I love you,” he mouthed the words, his lips twitching into a smile as he watched her flush delicately. 

“I love you more.”

“Impossible.” He frowned playfully and shook his head as she continued to stare at him with pure adoration on her features. 

Neither of them could believe this day was finally here. If anyone had told Sebastian and Y/N when they first met all those years ago that they would be standing where it all started, surrounded by their loved ones, both of them would have blushed and stuttered in protest; but here they were, and Sebastian could think of nowhere else in the world he would rather be. He always thought his favourite version of Y/N would be her first thing in the morning, and that had been true from the very first moment he had woken with her in his arms two years ago up until that exact moment. Nothing would ever compare to how completely and utterly captivating she was, looking like his own personal divine being.

“...Sebastian?” Y/N muttered his name, a coy smile playing on her face. 

“Sorry. I’m here,” he offered the officiant a sheepish smile and shrugged one of his shoulders while tilting his head in Y/N’s direction as if to say, can you blame me? “Could you repeat that, please?”

“Do you, Sebastian Sallow, take Y/N Y/L/N to be your wife? To - ”

“I do.” The minister, as well as their audience, laughed as Sebastian interrupted with a cheeky smile on his face as he glanced at Y/N. He had waited so long for this moment and now that it was here he just wanted to skip forward to the most important part. He knew he should be a little more patient and show some restraint, but had been waiting for this for longer than he would ever admit. He wanted to be able to finally call Y/N his wife.

“Very well, then.” The preacher turned to Y/N, amusement sparkling in his eyes. “And do you, Y/N Y/L/N, take Sebastian Sallow to be your husband? To live together in matrimony, to love, honour, comfort and to keep in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?”

“I do.” A tear slipped down Y/N’s face as she took in the look of pure devotion on Sebastian’s face. She had never been more sure of a decision in her entire life.

“You each have a ring for the other,” the officiant looked between the pair, taking note of both of their living smiles and unshed tears. “These are placed on each other’s fingers as a visible sign of the vows which you have taken today which have bound you both together as husband and wife. I hope they always remind you of your promise and love for each other.” He looked over at Sebastian, who in turn took the ring from Ominis’ outstretched hand. He thought his hands would shake during this part, but they remained steady as he slipped the ring on Y/N’s finger, his heart thumping in his chest as he did so. 

“With this hand I will lift your sorrows. Your cup will never empty, for I will be your wine. With this candle, I will light your way in darkness. With this ring, I ask you to be mine.” He brushed a stray tear from Y/N’s face and gently kissed the piece of jewellery before letting her turn to Anne so she could get his ring. 

“With this hand I will lift your sorrows. Your cup will never empty, for I will be your wine. With this candle, I will light your way in darkness. With this ring, I ask you to be mine.” She repeated the vow back to him, her voice wavering slightly as she slid the wedding band onto his ring finger, the metal gleaming in the afternoon sun.

“I’ve been told you have both been through many adventures together, but let us begin this one with a kiss. I now pronounce you husband and wife.”

Sebastian was already tugging Y/N towards him before the words were finished, both of his hands resting on her waist as he dipped down to press his lips to hers. He thought his heart was about to beat out of his chest as she wound her hands up to the back of his head and pulled him in closer, the crowd fading out of his mind as he held onto her tightly. Imelda whistled loudly as their kiss lasted long enough to be indecent and Y/N broke away to laugh, her face flushing as Sebastian tried to chase her lips and pull her back into another kiss. She grinned at him and pressed a sweet, chaste peck on his lips.

“How do you feel about being a married man, Mr Sallow?”

“You’ve made me the happiest man in the world, Mrs Sallow.”

[peoniesnro]

In Another Universe.

#2. A Lil' Roll

Synopsis – When you are just another iteration of Park Jimin’s girlfriend in a different universe.

Park Jimin × Reader

Genre – Parallel universe (duh)/ kind of fantasy/ strangers to ??/ SMUT (will be here in future chapters)/ maybe romance/ angst/ fluff /Infidelity

Warnings – Language/ Slight breast play/ Arousals

Word count - 7k

Chapter index

Previous - Next

…................................................................................................

Jimin thinks his body is on fire. Every inch of his skin burns. Throat sore. A violent sneeze, intense enough to break his neck was, what woke him up a second ago. It has taken him a solid minute to recall why he is woke up on his couch. In a sitting position. With a stiff neck. That stiffness, however, doesn’t stop him from snapping his head to his right, his heart pounding violently. Scared of seeing who he expects to see. Only to find an empty spot.

A breath of relief leaves his mouth. So hard. Like he’s been underwater for hours. There’s no one next to him. Not even a sign. Thank goodness it was a nightmare, even though it’s hard to explain how he ended up on the couch. It doesn’t matter though. That woman who he met, probably through his dreams, isn’t real. That’s more than enough in the end.

Jimin gets to his feet in light speed. Unfortunate how he misses the cold, forgotten coffee mug on Liya’s precious coffee table. No surprise. He is focusing on one thing and one thing only.

Liya!

He doesn’t think he has ever been as scared as he was in that damned dream. Has no idea what he would do if it were reality. The reality of Liya disappearing. That would make him drown in guilt. That damn fight they had before bed didn’t help his situation either. No matter how much they fought, it’s not like he would want her to disappear. No, of course not. She has been in his life forever. For good or bad. It doesn’t matter. In the end, she is a part of his life.

Thank God it was just a dream. He would take a look anyway to see if Liya’s okay. Just to be cautious. It doesn’t hurt to be cautious.

He bursts into the bedroom first. Empty. The bathroom is next. Empty. Then he is in the kitchen, feeling like he is still dreaming. Stops right in the doorway, eyes falling on the figure next to the kitchen island. Struggling with a blender. Ridiculous. He doesn’t care, however. Not when he recognizes the woman in his kitchen instantly. The sigh that escapes his mouth is so loud that it catches her attention.

“Oh hey! You up?” Liya doesn’t yell when she talks. It’s soothing like music. “Why did you sleep on the couch?” She mumbles as she keeps trying to make her morning smoothie. She isn’t mad at him anymore. It appears. Normally, their fights would last for days. Today is an exception, apparently. Not that it makes Jimin feel any better. Liya looks at him in question when he doesn’t answer.

Jimin doesn’t know how to answer that question now. What can he say, after all? Sleepwalk? So, he decides to lie. Strides toward his girlfriend. “Uh… couldn’t sleep so, I... uh... ended up there… I guess”. Liya turns to Jimin as he approaches her. “You guess?” She raises one of her perfectly shaped eyebrows. “Yes. I must have fallen asleep at some point. I don’t know.” Jimin is sniffling uncontrollably and coughing. Liya looks at him, concerned. “And you’re sick too”. Not a question but a statement. An observation.

He ignores it. Thinks about each and every scenario of that dream. It’s really baffling for Jimin how it all felt so real.

Even when he is here now. Certain it was a dream. He can’t help but compare the woman he dreamt about with Liya.

This is Liya. The Liya he knows. His girlfriend of five years.

He takes her confused yet concerned face in. Then her delicate figures. Lips, nose, eyes, brows, hair. Her graceful body with its slender curves. This is Liya. Incredulous how he mistook someone else for her. Explain why it could only be a dream. That’s not a possibility in reality. There’s no way he would mistake. He knows her for five years. Five fucking years. It was just a dream. Everything’s possible in a dream.

Still, even with that, he wants to ask her if anything happened. Just needs reassurance. But that question might sound insane. Decides to keep ridiculous dreams to himself. So, he chooses to grab her by the forearm and pull her into his embrace instead. Just glad it wasn’t real. Glad she is okay. Ignores the way she yelps in surprise but couldn’t ignore her words. “Well, this is new. But let go Jimin. I’m getting late” And with that, she is pushing him away. Kisses his cheek slightly before giving up on her smoothie. Leaves him alone in the kitchen.

What’s so fucked up? He doesn’t feel disappointed nor does he feels hurt. She rejected him, didn’t she? Shouldn’t he feel hurt? That’s his girlfriend after all. Since when does he not care at all. Since when has just being alive been enough.

…................................................................................................

Art and Design Theory is the only theory-based subject that you like. Even just a little, in your damn degree. You hate most of the subjects. This one, however, has made you appreciate your major a little. A reason to think you chose the right one. Even with that, you’re not listening to a single word - the black haired, vivacious woman is saying. Yoon-hee is one of your favorite professors. The last thing you want is to be on her bad side. Still, you can’t help searching and searching on every social media page, blog, professional sites, hell even on genealogy websites for a certain person.

You ignore the pokes on your ribcage for a third time. Didn’t really realize your best friend has been hissing in your ear for some time now. “For fucks sake, dude. What are you searching for so desperately?” Key hisses in your ear for the hundredth time and you finally look at her face. She is scowling at you. A pout on her lips. You sigh heavily in resignation. “Park Jimin” You mumble in a very hoarse voice before completely ignoring her again and return to your in-depth research. “Who?” She perks up and you can’t tell if she really didn’t hear you or not. You give her a long stare.

“Park Jimin Key. That’s his name” It’s really difficult to talk. With a parched throat and a stuffy nose.

“Okay.” She starts pulling out her phone while you look at her with interest. “What? I’m gonna help you find whoever this is…” She stops midsentence to look at your face. Like she realized something only now. “Who is he? When and where did you meet him? And why do you want to find him so badly that you’re literally ignoring your crush.” She gestures to your professor with a tilt of her chin. You roll your eyes. Not really in a mood to joke. The thing is you don’t know how to answer her questions now. A man you met in your dreams? This stresses you out to no end. Simply because it wasn’t a dream. Not at all. You’re positive. It really happened.

See, you were quite certain it was a dream when you opened your eyes this morning. In your own bed. At your own rusty and dusty but trusty apartment. You clearly ignored your burning eyes and sore body. Blamed all the exhaustion you felt on all the crying. Didn’t really give a shit about your suddenly runny nose. Was simply happy that it all was a dream. Until, of course, you checked the time and jumped out of bed to rush to the bathroom. That’s when your leg got tangled in a blanket that nearly made you break your neck.

A blanket which is not yours for sure.

A blanket from a dream.

A blanket, someone named Park Jimin, used to wrap your trembling body.

A blanket that shouldn’t be on your bed.

And like that you began to feel like you were dreaming again.

You should’ve known better after all. It all felt too vivid to be a dream. You can still feel the sting of the rain drops. Feel the fear. Feel his presence. Feel his breath on your thigh. Feel his feathery touch there. Hear his voice. It really can’t be a dream. The problem is, it only leaves you to believe that you, indeed travelled to a different world. Met someone. Nearly died. Went through so many things within a mere few hours. And that freaks you out. The experience was scary itself. But the fact that it was in a strange world makes goosebumps appears on your skin.

You need reassurance. Need to find this person so it explains that it wasn’t a different world but the same world you know. The only world. Doesn’t matter how you ended up in his place, only need it to be the same world. Disappointingly, all your efforts are in vain. You found thousands of Parks. Found several Jimins. So did you find three Park Jimins but not the person you are looking for. Nobody has that plump lips, cute nose, or captivating eyes. Nobody looks that ethereal nor mesmerizing.

Key’s voice startles you slightly when she hums in your ear in question. You really can’t tell her anything. Everything is so messed up and seems absurd. Besides, it is all over and there’s no reason to make her worry. So, you lie. “Someone I met online”.

…................................................................................................

All you want to do is go home and sleep. You feel like shit. Make sense considering you’re violently sick. And you haven’t slept very well last night now have you? Cold medicines don’t help your situation either but make you drowsier. You’re practically falling asleep on your feet now. Key, however, is an enemy from your past life under the disguise of a best friend.

You asked for a sick leave from your part time job earlier. Had every intention of disappearing the moment your second lecture ended. But no! Here you are on your way to ‘The Coffee Corner’, your workplace. The one place you’d prefer not to go for at least a year if possible. Especially not with Key. Not to be a bitch but you haven’t told her anything about Chan. Not your place after all, that’s it. He needs to manage his own shit. And of course you don’t care. Right? Just hate Key for making you do this.

And you hate her even more when you’re inside the café, seated on a secluded corner. Hiding your face from the world. Get this urge to kill her when she waves at Chan and makes him come to your table. He sits in an empty chair, greeting. Why would he be here all the time? He is the boss after all. You are a hypocrite. Selfish bitch and everything in between. How happy you were that he is here all the time, just a day ago? Now though, you want to resign. Can’t afford it much for your dismay. Hence, your polite nod and smile.

“Are you okay?” Chan asks as he takes your haggard appearance. “Huh? Oh yes never been better.” You say as you go through the menu for no reason. You know this place too well. “Yeah? You look pale though.” He ruffles your hair so unexpectedly that you nearly swat his hand away. Good thing Key decides to intervene. “She is just fine… Just starting to develop an unhealthy obsession over a someone she’s never met. Park... what was his name? Oh yeah Park Jimin” She waves her hand in the air as Chan looks at your way, surprised. You flip her away. “Fuck You. All I want is to never see him again”.

…................................................................................................

It was well past midnight when you finally went to sleep yesterday. Thanks to your best friend. You slept well, however. Thanks to cold medicine. Even had a good dream about a faceless person kissing and sucking on your neglected for years, breasts. Even started to feel aroused and wet when it all disappeared, and you woke up. Fuck! How unlucky you are to not be able to have a peaceful orgasm, even in a dream. You open your heavy lids. Close them back again. Feel like you’ve been robbed of a good orgasm. Put you in a grumpy mood. Strangely, however, you can still feel a lingering sensation on your chest. Tickles on your throat and neck. Soft, wet kisses on your….

“Holy fuck. What are you doing?” You don’t even realize it’s your hoarse voice that erupted in the room.

That room. Not your studio apartment.

Your loud voice makes Jimin lose his shit for a second time causing him to practically jumps out of the bed. “Fuck what?” He blinks at your face stupidly. For moment. The realization, however, dawns upon his face while you watch. “No…. No fucking way… not again.” He mumbles softly in disbelief, mouth agape. Takes a few steps back. You ignore his stunned expression. You’re mortified for yourself. He fucking sucked on your tits. You sit back abruptly, pulling your flimsy tank top down. Cover yourself properly under the comforter before speaking. “Did you…. Did you just fucking… suck on my tits?” You can’t even be bothered by the fact that he is in front of you again. Very much real.

He looks as if you slapped him. Scowls at you before answering. “Fuck… Jesus no woman…” You interrupt his stutter. “No? You totally did, you pervert. You were sucking on my tits when…” He interrupts your ranting. “I was sucking on my girlfriend’s tits…” He shouts while bending to your height, face inching closer to you. That, very effectively shuts you up, making your eyes go wide as you think. Of course, he was. You’re not supposed to be back in here. You really thought it all was over. Holy shit, you’re back again. It’s Park Jimin again, standing in front of you, looking at you like you disgust him. Well, he’ll be damned. Asshole.

He straightens up. Breathes heavily. And starts that annoying pacing. You hate it. “I really thought it was a damn dream.” He mumbles to himself as he stops, facing your annoyed figure on his bed. “You know, a nightmare. You were gone when I woke up yesterday.” He paces toward you again. Does he think it's news? Indeed, you were gone when he woke up and it really make sense why he thought it was a dream. But nightmare? You grit your teeth as you get to your feet. It feels awkward to gaze upward at his face as he towers over you. Makes him look intimidating. Makes you feel powerless. So, you stand proud before him, shoulders square. “Well, lucky you that you believed it was just a dream even for a day. Imagine my fucked-up situation to know it really happened. To know that you, asshole, really exist.” That serves him well.

“What’s your problem?” Jimin stops in front of you. He really needs to stop scowling that hard. Or else it will imprint on his face. “My problem?” You scoff. “I was the one who woke up to a random pervert sucking on my nipples. And then you talk like this all is my doing, my fault. Of fucking course, I have a problem. That’s my problem.” You point out, hand gesturing toward you. Will never admit his small ministrations felt so good. So good that you’re underwear is soaked now. Gosh what’s wrong with you. He doesn’t affect you that much? Does he now? He shouldn’t affect you. You need to control your primal needs. That isn’t right to be turned on. Not when he was clearly misunderstood you for his girlfriend.

You may be calling him out for that. In deep down, however, you know he messed up you with someone else. Again. That’s the part you should be blaming him for. How on earth someone will mistake their girlfriend with someone else. Even though they look like clones. Unacceptable.

“I never said that. When did I ever say that?” Jimin tilts his head to the side. Ignores the part where you talked about your tits. On the other hand, he is not affected at all. You sigh at his answer. Because, right, he really didn’t say so but it probably is his tone.

“You just called me a nightmare. That’s insulting.”

“Do you want me to call you a fairy tale then? My damn girlfriend disappeared again. She was here yesterday. You look exactly like her. If this doesn’t feels like a nightmare, then what does?”

That is a really valid point. It was a nightmare for you as well. First, Jimin and then that scumbag. Only that you knew it wasn’t a dream at all. You knew it really happened, and Jimin exists. Jimin didn’t know that. To him this might be still feels like a dream.

“And how did you exactly know it wasn't a dream?” He questions again, boring into your eyes. Makes you uneasy for some unexplainable reason. “Uhm... it was your blanket. I woke up with it.” Why does it feel like you’ve stolen it from him. “You woke up where?” Apparently, Jimin doesn’t care about his blanket. He has a fancy ass apartment after all. His questions really feel like an interrogation. Like you’ve done something. As if this is all your fault. “In my home obviously. Stop sounding like it’s my fault.” You say, pouting without you realizing it. “I am not. I really am not saying it’s your fault, okay? Just want to make sense and know what’s going on and I’m in the dark side here. I don’t know anything except you woke up next to me. Twice.” His voice is soft now. Holds up two fingers. You gasp. He has beautiful hands. You want to slap yourself. “What?” He questions looking between your face and his hand.

“Nothing” You’re quick to shrug it away. “Listen Park. I know nothing more than you do. I woke up in my apartment yesterday and went to sleep on my bed. Mine. And now I’m here. That’s all I know and why didn’t you ask your girlfriend where she was yesterday?” You think it’s a very smart question, but Jimin laughs while shaking his head. Humorlessly. Sounds more like a scoff. “Ask what? Where she was in my dream. I thought it was a dream.” He emphasizes. Puts his head back. Eyes on the ceiling. You really don’t want to be a creep, but he does that a lot. You watch his Adam’s Apple bop when he looks back at you. “Gosh this so damn frustrating” He groans. Rubs his face hard. Makes you want to swat his hand. He does that a lot, too. When did you have the time to observe him so much. “Tell me about it.” You’re equally as frustrated as him. He makes you feel like shit on top of that.

“Okay, so your apartment was back yesterday?” He goes back to his interrogation. “Well, yeah…. Wait, you still don’t believe I’m not… that we are not… like form the….” God, it feels like a dirty secret when you say it aloud. Jimin doesn’t let you finish, however. “No, I’m not. It’s unbelievable. Stop with that two-world bullshits, please.” He starts pacing again. “Explain this then Park. How am I here? Believe me when I say that I searched for you on every social media platform and everywhere else I can and it’s not like you don’t use them is it?” You want to throw a pillow at him. Jimin opens his mouth to answer your question when a sudden vibration disrupts him. You follow his gaze to the bedside drawer. The same drawers you saw a day ago. Funny, how you are not that scared of him anymore. Funny, how you’re soaked because he accidentally sucked on your nipples, clearly thinking it was his girlfriend. Fuck your life.

His phone screen, however, is black and the vibration isn’t coming from it. It’s natural to look at Liya’s phone next, and it’s black as well.

You step away to let Jimin walk toward the drawer and check the phone, Liya’s phone. Watch curiously how curious he appears. He turns toward you with a pout on his lips. Adorable. Turns away again to follow the vibration sound, tugs the comforter away. Reveals a third phone that he probably doesn’t recognize. But you certainly do. Your face lights up like you see God. A huge grin spreads across your face as you hurry toward it. “I’ll be damned, it’s mine” You mutter as you practically snatch it away.

The alarm is going off, so you turn it off before checking on your new notifications. There are none. There’s no service. You’re not surprised. Kind of expected considering you’re not in your world. It doesn't matter that Jimin doesn’t believe you. You’re certain of your theory. Honestly, you think you should be freaking out more about that, but you’re not. You passed that freaking out phase. On the day you met Jimin. The moment you actually felt suspicious of it. And then you had all day yesterday to zone out, think, think, and think. Now you’re in acceptance phase. You’re impressive for accepting the inevitable so fast. Just like how you’re moving on from a heart break, a humiliation, and a traumatizing experience. Maybe you just don’t have enough time to process things through. Even now, you have to prove this to the man who stands next to you. Who is watching you carefully. You need evidence to show him that you’re from a different world.

You stare at your phone blankly. Proof. Things that he never has seen. Pictures. You snap your head toward him. The grin on your face stretching from one ear to the other. Of course, you’re currently holding the biggest evidence to ever exist. You brandish your phone at him. “I’m gonna prove to your smart ass that I’m right.”

…................................................................................................

Proving. You definitely did. You showed Jimin every single app on your phone, even the settings. Enlightened him through every social media app you have, even when there is no service. Tried connecting on to his Wi-Fi but it didn’t work. Useless.

Shamelessly, gave him a tour of your gallery. Almost showed him every picture save for the really questionable ones. You swiped through them in light speed and grimaced at him, making him stare at you in pure disbelief. Brought his attention to the screen shots and all the products you saved there that you’ll never be able to afford.

Now, at the end of your presentation, Jimin lies on his back on the bed. Legs dangling over the edge. Eyes void of any emotions and blankly staring at nothing. You understand he needs time to process. Must be damn hard to believe this still. You made your point, however. He no longer can refuse your hypothesis of you two being a part of a mess between two worlds. You watch as he finally finds it in himself to face the problem. Sighing and sitting up. Not so impressively accepting the situation.

“This.” He points at your phone. “Makes it really worse.” Well, you agree with him on that one. It really does make it worse. You don’t know what’s next now you’ve proved your point. Hence, your stupid gaping at his frustrated face. No replies from your end. Jimin looks at you, raising his brow questionably. “We need to find a way to stop this lady. Now what?” He gestures between you two. You think that gesture ruins the meaning of his words. “Yes, we do… That’s what I want but don’t ask me ‘Now What’ because for the hundredth time Park, this is beyond me. I assure you that I don’t come here willingly.” You throw your hands in the air, shrugging. Annoyed. Jimin gets to his feet and before he starts, you know what he is about to do. “Please don’t” You didn’t mean to say that aloud nor did you mean to clutch on to his white shirt. Jimin is a little more than surprised. “Huh?” He looks like he wants to laugh at a very serious context. Halfway up to a standing position. Comical. “Don’t start pacing around. Makes me feel nauseous” You justify. He chuckles. Not really amused but it’s a fair reaction. “And why do you think I would care about your wellbeing?” He asks. But sits back, regardless. Looks at your hand still gripping his shirt. You immediately let it go as he begins again.

“Okay, fine. Here’s what we gonna do. I need us to talk about everything regarding this situation. Every possible theory on the table and then we gonna test them until we find a way to control this situation and stop it altogether.” His face is so serious to a point that you’ll definitely laugh at it if you aren’t desperate for answers as well. You can’t really afford to skip your lectures, nor can you say goodbye to your part time job. You want this to end at this moment. You have a life even though it’s pathetic. You wonder what might be happening in your world now. Has Key called you. Is she worried about you? What about Chan? Oh, this is the first time these things occur in your mind. Things about people from your life. Real one. You think you can understand the desperation Jimin feels about Liya. That makes an idea pops up in your mind.

“Hey” You turn to Jimin, who has started bobbing his leg up and down violently. He hums in reply without really looking at you. “If I’m here, you know, there’s only one place Liya could be” You think out loud. Jimin’s head snaps toward you, realization hitting on him. “Your world” He whispers, and you nod. That leads him to ask a whole lot of questions about you, your place and possible dangers Liya might be in now. You assure him that she will be fine. Your place has good security, but Jimin’s question is what will happen if she leaves the apartment. And for that you have no answer. So, you stay silent until Jimin sighs and gets up.

“Okay, I’m gonna believe that nothing bad will happen.” He says more to himself.

“Nothing will happen, Liya’s a big girl” You are good at positive thinking.

“Of course, she is, unlike someone and will not go running toward a tornado like a headless chicken.” He is good at making you annoyed.

“Well good for you, you asshole. You know your girlfriend but still can’t remember what she wore to bed last night and ended up sucking on someone else’s tits. Good thing she doesn’t have a twin.” You say aloud, not giving Jimin enough time reply before storm away from the room.

…................................................................................................

There are very pressing matters at hand. His girlfriend is possibly wandering around a strange world and God knows what might be happening at this very moment. Moment in which he watches you slurping cup ramen. Complaining constantly about him not having anything edible in his damn fridge except for, as you said, ‘ramen, which nobody puts in their fridge’. He finds you weirdly intriguing in your messy up do and worn-out clothes. Sniffling occasionally. You’re sick. Just like him.

He really is ashamed that he failed to recognize you for a second time. He thought he saw the differences. So much for never mistaking Liya. Funny thing is he does see the differences. When he watches you this carefully. He sees you as you. Not as Liya. You are Liya, but not Liya at the same time. Intriguing. Interesting. Weird.

The way you eat so fast is like you’ve been starving for years. There’s no delicacy in that. Everything Liya does is delicate, even when she walks. Like she is dancing instead of walking. You don’t have that. Delicacy. He thinks you’re still very cute however. Especially, when you peek at him through your lashes, scrunching up your nose, just to ignore him and go back to mind your own business. You have shorter hair than Liya. You appear slightly thinner than Liya. You curse too much. Liya doesn’t really curse if it wasn’t for a time she is really mad. You have a very short temper, according to how you’ve acted all these times. Make Jimin really annoyed. Your cheeks puff up adorably when you eat. You wear very worn-out clothes. Liya would faint if she saw that. Then how on the hell did he think it was Liya when he started his shameless actions earlier this morning?

He really can’t find an answer to that. Even if it was really Liya, then he might be in a position dealing with her bad mood since Liya’s boundaries are thick. She will be pissed to wake up to those ministrations on her chest. Then why did he do that in the first place. Maybe he wanted to return to something he used to have. He wants to laugh at that. In that sense, however, this is better. It’s really embarrassing because it was you. A complete stranger. Still, it’s peaceful and interesting to watch you eat. Maybe, it’s because you’re a stranger. He doesn’t know you. In the end it makes him feel awfully guilty. Guilty about watching and thinking about your adorable puffy cheeks, appearing whenever you slurp on your noodle, when what he should do is worrying about Liya. You are right, however. To say Liya will manage. She will, but it doesn't give Jimin excuses to enjoy getting annoyed at someone. As weird as it sounds, he enjoys it. He sighs heavily, catching your attention. You peer at him through your lashes.

“So…. About this two-world shit. It’s like you’re another version of Liya from a different universe, right?” He asks. Intrigued. Adds some more explanation since you look like you’re about to choke on your ramen. “I mean, you two looks exactly same, that’s the only possible explanation. Two universes? Parallel?” He raises his eyebrow at you.

“I… I… don’t know Jimin...” Even your stutter is adorable. He needs to focus. “I mean I haven’t thought about it that way... Two universes huh? Yeah, it makes sense. So...” You put your chopsticks down. Look like you just found out you’re adopted. “Yeah, that must be it... Different version of the same person.” You say nodding, before going back to finish your ramen. Jimin waits for another one minute for you to say something, but when it doesn’t come, he thinks he needs to push. See, you’re intriguingly weird. “In that case we need to find out a way to stop this don’t you think?” He says as you nod again. Finish your ramen fast. Ask him for a pen and paper.

Weird. Adorably weird.

…................................................................................................

You and Jimin make a list of all your observations. Theories that you can test. It was your idea. You don’t know why you were so surprised at his parallel universe theory. It makes perfect sense after all. Still, it feels a little uncanny to think you and Liya are versions of the same person. You have no idea about Liya. About what kind of a person she is. Is she just like you? Can’t be considering, she lives in this apartment, has a caring boyfriend like Park Jimin, even though he is an asshole to you. When you think about it, he hasn’t really been rude to you either. Not very much at least. He was panicking, and very confused. Even at that state, he saved your ass. Doesn’t matter he was thinking you were his girlfriend. He still did and even tried being very understandable toward you. Helped you calm down when you were losing your mind. You think Liya is very lucky. Think she must be the total package to pull Park Jimin. Not like you at all. She must be that better version of yourself.

You think Park Jimin is a good person, even though he has packets of ramen stored in his fridge. Even though he argued that it’s completely normal when you point out how abnormal it was. Even though he said you lack proper decorum, and etiquette in a rude tone. Said that you need to remember this is his house and you’re a guest. Said it doesn’t give you the right to nag him so much just because you’re wearing something like you live in a homeless shelter. How fucking rude! It’s comfortable at least. An asshole. But a good one.

You recap the pen and place it on the paper. Slide it toward him. “Done. Go on, read it.” You say as he takes the paper in his hand. He already knows what’s in it, but you were the one who wrote it. So, you want him to give it another go. You watch as Jimin’s eyes scan the lines. Watch the corners of his mouth tug slightly upward as he does. Tries his best to maintain the serious face though. Makes you mad that he thinks it’s funny. This is a very serious situation, like he said himself and you put your best on that paper. You watch him sniffle. He is sick. Just like you.

Jimin puts the paper on the table. Takes the pen and scribbles down something. And slides it back to you. Silently asks you to read again despite you being the one who wrote it. So, you do.

You roll your eyes. Now it’s your time to swallow the laughter that threatens to leave your mouth. Oh, the audacity to point out your grammar. You scoff. “You have what now?” You show him the paper and place your pointer finger on the last part. Tap it. Jimin rolls his eyes too. “You can’t read that word? Oh, in that case it says I have a dick!” He states as he gets up. You open your mouth but nothing comes out. You by no way, are that close enough to talk about his dick. Not that you mind it. Not if someone else starts speaking about their private parts so casually. A stranger or not. You can totally get a joke. Key is your best friend after all. But when it comes to Jimin, you mind apparently. Have no idea why? “Are you sure?” You finally come back with a retort before he leaves you alone. Jimin turns around. Smiles. Only slightly. Makes you wonder how he might look like when he cracks up with laughter.

“Yes. Last time I checked I had one. Just come and sleep please.” He turns around again. You jump into your feet. Abandon the paper as you follow him. You badly want to argue with him about that ‘last time I checked’ part but are more intrigued about ‘sleeping’ part. “You want me to do what?” You catch up to him in the living room. “Well, you travel between these two worlds when you sleep, and it switches you and Liya. And I want Liya to come back unharmed. Quickly as possible. So, sleep. Besides, we have theories to test, don’t we?” He peers at you, an amused look on his face. You nod. Understand what he says. “Okay. It’s not like that it’s hard or something.” You walk past him as you state. Turn around when you’re on the first step of the staircase. “You keep ramen on the fridge, Park. That’s a brainless thing to do.” You let your eyes fall down on his figure. Shrug. “And maybe, you should check one more time. Just to be cautious. You know?” You watch he opens his mouth, to say something or not, you’re not sure. Either way you don’t wait as you ascend the stairs, feeling smug.

…................................................................................................

Your first theory testing is to make sure that this really happens when you are sleeping. While doing that you’ll see if it has to do anything with the bed part. You claimed that this wasn’t hard. It’s just sleeping after all. All you have to do is sleep. Like a little baby. This is even a rare occasion where you get to go back to sleep after breakfast. Still with that, however, you are very much awake after spending almost 30 minutes in Jimin’s and Liya’s bed. On Liya’s side. It’s absolutely not normal for you to sleep here. But Jimin said that’s how you are going to test your stupid bed theory. Besides, you woke up here. Probably have slept in the same bed for hours. Who knows? Still, weird though.

You probably tossed and turned for hundred times now. This bed feels really comfy. So is the comforter. Then why exactly can’t you fall asleep? You’re wide awake. There’s not a sign of a drowsiness in your eyes. Your brain is buzzing with thoughts. Jumps from one thing to another. From Chan to Key, Key to Lee Seung, Lee Seung to Liya, Liya to Jimin. And stops on the last person, who is in the bathroom right now. For fucking 30 minutes. What does he do in there? Why would you care?

You groan as you sit up. This isn’t working at all. You even tried the ‘counting to100’ method, but the sound of the water running is too distractive. Nothings working and there is only one thing left to do. You need to wrap yourself in something and the only available option is the comforter. So, you pull it up. Spread it on the bed properly. Stack two pillows for later use. Lay yourself on one side of the comforter. And roll with it. Sigh in content when you’re safely wrapped. Up to your neck. Lay back on the stacked-up pillows to prop yourself higher. And wait until the dreams come to you.

It isn’t exactly dreams that comes to you first, however. But you certainly do feel like dreaming when the bathroom door opened and Jimin exits. Freezing in the doorway, eyes locking with you. In a towel. Not so safely wrapped around his waist. So low. You can see his V-line disappear underneath it. Chest bare but not the first time you see him. Only difference? Now you really see him. His honey skin. It’s ‘Never mind’, what tattooed on his ribcage. You gulp harshly. Gosh! He really looks like a sculpture. Breathtaking. Fucking ethereal. His damp hair makes everything just worse.

“What the hell are you doing?” Jimin’s voice makes your wandering eyes stop in his face. Your eyes going wide. Fuck! Did you just ogle at him like that? You’re mortified now. Horrified. Want the floor to open up and swallow you up. Why do you keep humiliating yourself? What’s wrong with you? He will never let this, go. “What are doing like that?” Jimin questions again at your eerie silence. “Like what?” You question back, eyes never leaving his figure. Mouth dry. “Like a fucking spring roll?” Jimin chuckles, pushing his hair back. Finally, moving in to the room.

Oh that?

You watch his muscles flex before you answer. Force your eyes to look away. “Ah that? It helps me relax.” Your eyes fail you as you’re looking back at his half naked figure. “Who’s the weird person here now?” Jimin walks to the mirror as he asks. “You called me brainless because I keep ramen on the fridge? It’s not even me. That’s on Liya. And you think it’s normal to act like that..” Watches you through the mirror. “In a stranger’s house? Where’s your manners spring roll?” Smirks.

“What did you call me?” You ignore all his questions. Your brain isn’t functioning properly. Watch his every action as he moves around. “A spring roll. Cause you look like one. And please stop ogling like I’m the only man you’ve seen shirtless.” He disappears inside a door next to that full-length mirror, which you guess is a walk-in closet. That makes you snap out of your entrance. You gasp. Unbelievable. Scoff. “Oh, for fuck’s sake Park! I’ve seen better, far better. I’ve seen fucking gorgeous.” You shout out aloud since you can’t see him now. Wait few minutes. There’s nothing but silent in his end. Don’t like the idea of being ignored. So you start shouting again. “Besides you’re not shirtless, you’re half-naked. Disrespectful. Have no shame...”

He interrupts your shouting as he emerges back. Is wearing pants now, and a shirt. What a shame. Buttons still undone. He points his finger toward you. Trying so bad not to laugh and it makes your lips itching to spread too. So, you bite on to your bottom lip. “You little brat.” He exclaims. “Is the one who ogled at me. You’re the shameless one. And, oh please you’ll never see anything like this.” He opens his shirt up. And of course, you ogle again. He smirks. “Take a good look, Rollito. You’ll never see something like this again.” Turns around and disappears again. You can’t argue in the end. You must be sexually deprived. When was the last time you had sex? Like real sex? Not orgasms using your own hands? You don’t even know. That’s why you find him so damn attractive. That’s why he makes you drool. Shamelessly, so. You let out a little sound of annoyance.

Changing the topic seems good for your sanity.

“Do not call me nicknames Park. No spring rolls. No Rollito. Fucking use my real name.” You yell after him.

“You are. A fucking spring roll. Rollito. You know what that means?” He yells back.

You take a moment to think. Decide that you don’t know what that means.

“What?” So you ask. Which is more of a shout than an ask.

“A little roll. In Spanish.” His voice is muffled. Of course, he would start speaking Spanish. “You know Spanish?” You are curious to know. Your throat is complaining. You’re still sick after all. Jimin appears back. “No.” Scowls at you. Gives you a look that clearly ask ‘are you that stupid?’ “I know what Rollito means. A little roll.” Comes little bit closer to the bed. Haven’t done his buttons yet. You look at his tattoo.

‘Never mind’

How come he be so enchanting. Why can’t you tear your gaze away.

“A little roll.” Jimin softly mumbles when you finally avert your eyes to his face. Enchanting. You hum noncommittally in question. He smiles.

“You are a little roll. It suits you.” Answers your non verbal question. Steps back. Slowly. Walks inside his closet. Backwards. Eyes never leaving yours. Disappears.

You badly want to argue. Instead you’re blushing. Feels your heart beating madly. Why? Why are you feel like you’ve been spellbound. You hate him for that.

…................................................................................................

An adorable spring roll. Jimin thinks. You’re strangely quite. Doesn’t know what made you shut up. Can’t help but grin to himself. You and he escalated so fast. You don’t know each other by any means. But you are sleeping on his bed. Fight with him as if you known him for years. Called him a kidnapper. An asshole. A pervert. And now Park. Something tells him that you’ll keep calling him names. Just like he’ll do. For good or bad.

He’ll call you a spring roll.

He’ll call you a little roll.

He’ll call you a lil’ roll.

A lil’ roll.

…................................................................................................

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