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neonacity · 3 years ago

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LUCID | NCT DREAM ‘00 LINE X READER | CH.3

LUCID DREAMS - A TYPE OF DREAM WHEREIN THE PERSON IS AWARE THAT THEY ARE CAUGHT IN A DREAM WORLD.

Summary: It was supposed to be a harmless, professional transaction. You were to tutor a group of boys, get your pay at the end of the day, and go home to your loving fiance. Kids aren’t supposed to be dangerous, right? So why, then, are you caught up in a web of madness that slowly makes you feel like you’re in a living nightmare?

A/N: Third chapter is here! Again, thank you to all those who are supporting the story. Once again, this is a yandere plot featuring NCT Dream ‘00 line which means there will be mature themes in the story as well as obsessive, toxic behavior. If you’re a minor, please refrain from interacting. If this isn’t your thing, then just scroll and skip. In no way am I condoning anything written here— this is not love, this is obsession—nor do I think that any of the people mentioned here will act any way like in this story. This is purely a work of fiction.

Genre: yandere, horror, suspense

TW: abuse, obsessive behavior, toxic relationships, suggestive scenes, stalking, possible kidnapping, mental health. Age gap–though nothing dramatic. Everyone is of legal age. Creepy, creepy, creepy! This will be updated as the story goes along.

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

“Insane madness of the living can be more, more terrible than the bloody hunger of the undead...”

― Silvia Liam

The rules of hunting down prey are simple. First, you observe to take note of their weakness, then you stalk...waiting for the right opportunity to take your shot. Hunting is more often about a game of time than aim sometimes. You jump too soon and you risk scaring your target to a successful escape, or you do it too late that you let them fully slip through your grasp. Hunting... has always been about perfect timing.

"You already know the rules of the game, right boy?"

The frail form of a seven year old child cowered against the foot of a dead tree, eyes shaking as it regarded the man leering at him. The sky was a deep dark velvet above them, and the only source of light came from the full moon that dipped in and out between the passing clouds. A bell dingled from the tight chain strapped around his left ankle when he moved, the sound causing the smile on the man's face twist into a wicked grin.

The hum of a gun being cocked sent the boy to give a choked sob. He shakily tried to stand up from his spot and pressed his palm against the rough bark of the tree to support himself, his wide eyes set on the looming form that has taken a step closer to where he stood.

"It's the first sturgeon moon tonight, so we are going to change the rules a little bit, okay?" Those words only made the child shake harder, the thin shirt he had now clinging to him like second skin due to the cold sweats gripping him.

"You run. And if I catch you, you die," the man cooed as he craned his face a bit to the side, causing the light from the moon to illuminate his features briefly. He looked handsome, inhuman, like he was one of the fallen souls exiled to earth at the beginning of times.

The man moved the arm holding his hunting gun and used it to lift the chin of the boy still cowering in front of him. He smiled—a smile so beautiful and dangerous it can make angels weep.

"But if you die, then your brothers will be the one running in this forest to take your place. So...make sure I don't catch you, hmm?"

Tears finally streamed down the bruised cheeks of the child as he realized what he was up to tonight. Eyes wide with fear, he pushed himself off the tree he was leaning on and started making a run for it.

He could still hear his words even as he dove deep into the woods, the bell on his feet masking his thundering footsteps.

"Seven bullets! You have one minute to hide, son~!"

Gunshots pierced the night air like a wailing scream.

------

Bang!

Jeno lowered his hunting rifle and let go of his breath slowly. Despite the shadows cast by the towering trees surrounding him, his eyes could still clearly see the slight flailing of the fawn he just shot before it went completely still. Above him, a flock of crows looked down on the fallen prey with their beady eyes, as if gauging the best time to dive for their feast.

He slowly picked himself up from his hiding spot, a wide oak tree with overarching branches that hid him from sight. He's been crouched there for a good half hour or so, just waiting for the fawn to finally circle the area. He's been observing it for the past week or so, taking note of its routes, and today he decided to make the kill.

Unlike other hunters, Jeno prefers the thrill that comes with stalking his prey over simply making a successful game. For him, the fun of hunting is in the process and not in its ending—a kill , after all, means nothing if you didn't work hard for it.

He looked down on the small fawn now as it lay lifeless on the mossy forest ground with its glassy eyes still open. Leaning over, he lightly pressed his hand over it to feel its heartbeat just to check if he killed it properly.

It was so beautiful and graceful just prancing in the forest a few days ago….it would be a shame if it suffers now.

"Hey, you got it?" A voice from the edge of the clearing made him look around. Haechan emerged from between the trees, his own hunting rifle slung over his shoulder.

"Yup. What did you get?"

The other boy lifted a brown sack and gave it a light shake.

"Got three rabbits. I'm too lazy to skin them here so I'll just ask Taeyong-hyung to do it. Want to go back now?"

Jeno turned to look back at the fawn in front of him briefly before finally shaking his head. He didn't really want to go back to the mansion yet, so he decided to just throw an excuse to the other for now.

"You go ahead. I'll just skin it right here," he said casually over his shoulder at his brother. Haechan, too cold and too bored to stay another minute in the humid woods, gave a wave of his hand before turning back. Unlike Jeno, he prefers the comforts and luxuries of the manor over anything else.

"I'll go ahead then. Try to get back before nightfall, the forest can be a dangerous place~" he said in a sing-song voice, knowing full well it was a useless warning he just gave.

Jeno simply ignored him and silently pulled his skinning knife from his belt so he could get to work. Nights in the forest have never scared him, he knew it like the back of his hand.

If anything, it is the creatures there who should be terrified of him.

------

You glanced over at Jisung and Chenle who were currently immersed in their readings over the page you’ve been scanning. The sun is about to set in just a few minutes and you have the last session of the day scheduled for the pair before you could pack up and go home. Your lips slightly quirked into a smile as you watched Jisung lean over slightly into the other to silently ask about something, Chenle looking up from his pages to roll his eyes before patiently answering. The two have such different personalities from each other, which adorably and ironically, makes them work so well together.

If you're going to be honest with yourself now, you'd say it is your time with the two youngest that you enjoy the most as Rosewood's tutor. Chenle and Jisung were withdrawn and shy at first, but the pair slowly started warming up to you as time went by. Maybe it's because they are younger, but you prefer the innocent air around them every time you would have your lessons. Chenle is the chattier and the more confident of the two, but with his help, even the shy Jisung also started lightly joking around with you on his best days.

That's not to say that you hate your time with the rest of the brothers. You've only ever had one session with Mark—which went so well as expected from the eldest—while the rest have always been polite and casual. There isn’t really anything about your job and connection with any of the boys that should put you on edge and yet... you have to admit that there are still those rare moments when you just feel as if something is out of place. You couldn't really place your finger on it, nor have you blatantly caught anything suspicious, but sometimes you just feel odd whenever you are around any of the four middle children. It’s something similar to being watched...like there is an imaginary pair of eyes always pinned to the back of your head, or the ghost feeling of hands hovering around your throat.

Your eyes flickered now to the grand clock on the far side of the room which finally struck five. Closing your own book which you have been scouring over, you called out towards the two who quickly looked up from their work.

"Alright, time's up. Have you answered the first two questions at least?" You asked with a smile. Chenle groaned and pointed at Jisung accusingly.

"I only got three questions because he kept disturbing me, noona."

Jisung frowned and you had to keep your laugh back with how offended he looked.

"Hey, I wasn't disturbing you. I was just asking questions."

"Okay, okay. Don't fight now. Do you want an extension for the chapter quiz? We do have our next lesson the day after tomorrow."

Their faces simultaneously lit up.

"Can we do that?" Chenle asked.

"Yes, but I'll have to leave you the assignment of reading another chapter and finishing the questionnaire for that as well. That'll be your homework, okay?" You tried your best to put on your best impression of a stern look, which only made the two giggle.

"Okay, noona."

"You promise you'll do it?"

Jisung put up his right hand and placed his left one over his heart.

"We promise."

That made you chuckle. "Well then, that will be all for today. I'll see you again tomorrow, okay? I'll have lessons with your brothers but just come to me if you have any questions." You gathered the rest of the papers that you have sprawled on the desk you were using before waving the two goodbye.

You were in the middle of trying to fit in a rather stubborn pile of files on your bag that you didn't really notice the tall figure that entered from the front door. When you finally looked up, it was already too late for you to stop crashing straight first into someone's chest, if not for the strong hands that held you steady. You felt an arm settle on your waist, and another on your back as you almost toppled when you hastily stepped back.

"Oh! I am so sorr—" you looked up with wide eyes to see Jeno looking down on you. Your words died in your throat when your eyes caught the red stain on his neck and you gasped.

"Jeno, what happened?!" Your voice raised in panic as you stared wide eyed at the blood running down the side of his neck. He gave you a slight look of confusion before raising a hand to touch the area you've been staring at.

"Ah… this…"

You didn't wait for him to finish. Quickly, you grabbed his hand and turned on your heels to drag him to the opposite direction. You didn't look back to see his surprised expression, and before he could even say anything, you had already pushed him into one of the expansive bathrooms down the nearest hallway.

"Sit there."

You pushed him urgently on the closed toilet seat before you proceeded to rummage on the hidden compartment behind the mirror that Taeyong showed you before. You quickly grabbed the box of first aid kit there and hastily opened an antiseptic wipe.

"Uhm...noona…"

You didn't pay him any attention, too focused on what you needed to do. You quickly kneeled in front of him so that you were more eye-level with each other before finally pressing the damp wipe against his injury.

"Shh. This might sting a little. We have to see how deep your wound is and stop the bleeding," you said, a small frown creasing your brows as your fingers gently dabbed at his skin. You were so focused on what you were doing that you didn't notice the light in his eyes shift as he looked at you closely.

His gaze dropped to your slightly parted lips, then at the look of concentration on your features.

Are you...worried about him?

Your frown deepened as you finally managed to wipe most of the blood away from his skin. The antiseptic sheet you were using has already turned dark red from the liquid, but still you haven't—

"It's not my blood," Jeno said plainly, his voice suddenly sounding too close to you. You looked up to him in confusion, and for the first time you realized how close the two of you were. His gaze didn't waver from your face, pinning you into the spot where you are kneeling in front of him.

"Not your…"

"I was hunting. I was skinning the game I caught but my hand slipped and I hit a major vein. This is deer blood."

If your face wasn't burning after realizing how close the two of you were at the moment, it is definitely on fire now. You opened your mouth to say something, then closed it again in embarrassment. Jeno continued staring at you and you watched as his lips ever so slightly curled into a smirk.

That made you suddenly stand up from your crouch. He calmly followed you with his gaze, a mix of curiosity and amusement in his brown eyes.

"I-I'm so sorry. I thought you were injured so I panicked," you stuttered as your eyes fell on the bloody wipe that is still on your hands. You quickly ducked to throw it away just so you could avoid his gaze.

Jeno followed your every move closely before slightly leaning his head to the side. He seems to be mulling over something, face now devoid of any telling emotions.

"Were you concerned about me?" He asked, tone curious. You glanced at him in surprise, stunned that he would ask such a question. It was bad enough that you stumbled over your words when you finally managed a reply.

"Of course I was concerned. Anyone would be."

Jeno slowly stood up from where he sat and for the first time, you realized just how much he towered over you. It didn't help that the two of you were in a much smaller space than usual which sent a wave of claustrophobia to wash you over briefly. You involuntarily took a step back, eyes only high enough to meet the base of his neck.

"Why though?" He asked again, and you could genuinely hear the curiosity in his tone. You frowned. He was asking...as if he isn't used to such a level of care. As if things like this are so foreign to him.

"Because you are my student. And I wouldn't want to see anyone hurt."

For a moment, Jeno didn't say anything else. He simply looked at you while you tried so hard not to flinch under his heavy gaze.

Then, as if a switch had been turned, he took a step to the side to free some space between the two of you. Your eyes shot to his face when he did that, and you were met by his boyish smile that crinkled his eyes into half moons.

That made you blink. You see it on him whenever he is with the rest of his brothers, but it was the first time he ever smiled that way to you.

"Thank you, noona. I appreciate it."

It was as if a blockage in your throat dissolved all of a sudden. You smiled back, a sense of relief overtaking you.

"Don't worry about it. I'm sorry I panicked, too."

"It's cute. Nobody has ever…" he trailed off before shrugging. "I guess, it's because we're all men here. So none of us are used to that kind of care."

You nodded slowly at that. It really must be hard...being in this kind of household. Now that you think about it, the boys are technically orphans.

"Anyway, I have to go. I need to get back before dark. I'm not really a big fan of night drives," you said as you picked up the bag you had haphazardly thrown into the sink in your panic earlier. Jeno simply watched you silently from where he stood.

"Make sure to be careful next time alright? Don't give anyone a heart attack again," you smiled before finally excusing yourself out. He smiled back and gave a nod of goodbye as you closed the door.

Jeno turned to the mirror in front of him and slowly touched the part of his neck where your fingers grazed earlier. It was cold now from the antiseptic you had rubbed, but he could still remember how good the warmth of your touch felt against his skin when you were trying to wash the blood away. He curled his fingers slightly over the area now, leaving half moon marks as his nails dug there.

Oh what he would do to have you touch him again.

-------

"Pretty neat, huh?" You grinned at Jaehyun as he parked the car in front of the manor. You watched as your boyfriend's eyes moved over the impressive facade of the structure in front of him, knowing full well that his architect training is kicking in.

"Not bad. Victorian-era, probably. The stones look old but the place looks pretty well-kept…"

You grinned to yourself now as you leaned back on your seat. Of course you have absolutely no reason to be proud of something you don't own, but you can't help but boast a little at your boyfriend. It is your workplace after all.

Jaehyun turned to his seat now to give you a slightly guilty smile. He sighed before reaching out for your hand.

"Are you sure you will be okay though? I'm sorry about borrowing your car all of a sudden, the timing is just so bad."

You gave his hand a squeeze before patting it with your other. He was supposed to go on a three day business trip away from the city when his car, all of a sudden, just wouldn't start this morning. He wouldn't make it if he waits for the shop to fix it so the both of you decided to just have him use yours for now. At least he has enough time to drive you to work, which is why the two of you now are parked outside the manor, 10 minutes before your first lesson has to start.

"Don't worry about it. I'll make sure to pick up your car later. I'll have the taxi drive me there."

Jaehyun glanced back at the mansion briefly.

"Are you sure you can get a taxi here though? This is pretty far off the main road…"

Well...to be honest, you weren't even really sure about that yourself but he didn't have to worry about it right now. You nodded and reached over for your bag with a smile.

"Yes. Or I'll just ask Taeyong for help if I can't get one. I'm pretty sure they have some taxi companies in contact."

Jaehyun still didn't look convinced but gave you a small nod nevertheless. His eyes were back to studying the house again which made you chuckle.

"Jae, I'll be fine. You have to go now or you'll be late to your conference. Thanks for driving me here," picking up the last of your things, you leaned over to give him a quick peck on the cheeks. He responded by pulling you over for a slightly longer kiss when you tried to move away.

"Yah, Jung Jaehyun. We'll both be late if you don't stop," you whispered softly with an amused tone. He laughed before finally letting you pull back.

"Just getting my fill of it since I won't see you in three days. Call me once you get home later, okay?"

"Mmn. Take care, too. Go get that deal closed," you gave him a wink before finally opening the passenger seat. You watched as he finally pulled away from the driveway and waited until he disappeared again on the long winding road before turning towards the manor again. You were almost at the front steps when the doors finally opened, spilling Haechan, Renjun, and Jaemin out of them. You frowned slightly as you took notice of the canvases they were carrying as you approached the group.

"Hey...are you going somewhere? Class is about to start." You asked curiously, eyes landing finally on the small leather bag that Renjun was carrying. It seems to be full of art supplies.

"We're doing a free art class today, right noona?" The eldest of the trio asked. You nodded, still a bit confused.

"Renjun suggested we do it in the garden since the weather is nice today," Jaemin finally said. "We think it'll be a nice change from the stuffy rooms inside," he slightly jerked his head back at the wide windows of the manor which are currently shut back with thick curtains. You glanced at them briefly too before nodding slowly in understanding.

"Oh… I mean… It's not a bad idea. We can have the first session outside while the sun is still bearable, I guess."

That made Jaemin, and most especially Renjun smile. The boy can be withdrawn most of the time, but you did notice that he looks happiest whenever you do creative classes.

"Thank you, noona."

"No problem. I'll just put my bag inside and then I'll follow you. Why don't you set up your things first?"

You've taken a couple of steps towards the front door already when Haechan suddenly spoke up.

"Who was with you, noona?"

That froze you on your tracks. Slowly, you turned to face the trio again. They saw Jaehyun drive off?

"Oh, that was my boyfriend. He dropped me off today," you said casually with a smile. Haechan leaned his head a little bit to the side in curiosity.

"But he took your car…"

"Yes, he did. His broke down so he had to borrow mine. He's leaving for a three-day trip so—" you stopped all of a sudden, realizing that you're explaining things too much. There's nothing wrong about what you said but there was still a part of you that made you feel a little...exposed. Jaemin, Haechan, and Renjun, fortunately, didn't seem to notice and continued to politely look at you.

"Anyway, I'll just grab a cab to go home," you continued with a smile. "There are some who stop by here, right?"

"Yes. Or we can just ask Taeyong-hyung to drive you. He is the only one who has a license among us," Jaemin offered with a casual shrug.

"Ah, maybe I'll have to bother him this one time if I can't get a cab," you said with a sheepish smile. "Okay, I do have to bring my things inside. I'll see you."

You have already reached the top of the steps before the double doors when you finally realized something. Quickly you turned to the three boys who were just about to disappear to the side of the house leading to the manicured gardens.

"Wait, where's Jeno?"

It was Jaemin who answered.

"Oh yeah. He can't come. He is on bed rest."

You frowned.

"What happened?"

Haechan snickered which caused Renjun to shoot him a reprimanding look.

"He got into a hunting accident," the boy explained as he barely tried to keep his lips from twitching with amusement. "He was foolish enough to get stabbed in the chest by a stag."

-----

You gave the oak wood door a few light taps before drawing your hand back to yourself. You still weren't sure if this is a good idea, and yet here you are standing outside Jeno's room, the expansive hallway making you feel too small and out of place. This is the first time you've been in this part of the mansion since you only ever roamed the lower floors for your classes, and you couldn't help but feel a little strange at the heaviness of the air clinging around you now.

Maybe it's because it is where the private quarters of the boys are, but the corridor was only slightly illuminated by dimmed lighting from the lamps on the walls. Everything was silent, and for a moment you wondered if you got the wrong door that Taeyong gave directions to when you told him you wanted to check on Jeno. You have already taken a step back and was about to turn away when you heard some rustling from inside the room. It was followed by a voice muffled by the thick wood separating you from the other side of the door.

"Come in."

You froze on your spot for a few seconds before finally managing to shake yourself to open the door before you slowly. Peering around it, the first thing you noticed was how big the room was—it looked more like a smaller section of a house than a private quarters. It was dark, but a quick look at it told you that it was mostly bare if you don't count the essentials, which is a simple desk by the side, a long couch, and, in the middle, a four poster bed.

Your eyes landed on Jeno who was looking at you with equal mild surprise. He was propped against the headboard of his bed, the light from the laptop on his lap illuminating his face. You noticed that he didn't have a shirt on, but most of his skin from the right shoulder down to his chest was covered by bandages.

"Hi," you smiled, suddenly feeling conscious now as you stepped into his room.

"Um. Hi. What are you…"

"I heard that you were injured so I just dropped by to check on you," you quickly answered to diffuse any awkwardness that is in danger of settling between the two of you. Jeno blinked, as if processing what you just said.

"Uh… sorry, I didn't realize that I might be disturbing you. I can also just go back another time and—"

"No," He said all of a sudden before you could excuse yourself. Quickly, he closed his laptop and put it away on his side. "You can stay for a bit."

"Oh...great. I uh…" your eyes roamed around his room once again, hoping to find a chair that is closer to his bed. There was none. You figured the couch was the only place you could go to so you started walking towards it, Jeno's eyes on you.

"You can sit here," he suddenly said and you looked up to see him pointing at the foot of his bed. That made you stop before glancing again at the couch at the farther side of his room, something which he immediately noticed.

"It's too far away. It'll be awkward for us to talk if you sit there,” he said, as if he read your mind.

That...makes sense. With a slight nod, you closed the distance between you and the bed instead and chose to sit by its far end.

Jeno was back to watching you as you settled down, his expression curious. You softly cleared your throat.

"How are you feeling?"

He glanced down his chest briefly. "Oh, I'm fine. It didn't hurt as much during the weekend, but I was still told to stay in bed. I can't really move that much yet."

"What happened anyway?"

He scratched the back of his head almost sheepishly and looked away.

"I was trying to hunt a deer. I didn't know its mate was just around the area when I approached it so...yeah."

You winced as your eyes fell on his bandaged chest. You know next to nothing about hunting, but you know enough that an angry stag doesn't spell good news for anyone. Things could have been more serious for him.

"Are you sure that you shouldn't be in the hospital though?"

"Yes. We have a private doctor anyway. I just need to make sure I don't move too much to keep my wound from opening. And I also hate hospitals so I prefer to stay here…"

"You have to be more careful next time, okay Jeno? The forest is such a dangerous place…" you sighed before shifting your attention towards the window at the far wall of his room. He only had his curtains partially open but you could still see a sliver of the woods from where you sat.

Something about what you said shifted something in him. You missed it entirely thanks to the shadows from the room's dim lighting that masked his features, but it was there, hiding in plain sight.

"You take care of us so well."

You turned to him again as you heard him whisper something.

"What?"

Jeno simply smiled. He leaned back against the headboard, as if mulling over something.

"Since noona is worried about me, can you help me change my bandages?"

You blinked. That wasn't something you expected him to ask at all. Before, you figured Jeno to be one of the more withdrawn among the brothers, always with this air of intimidation about him, but lately, he has been throwing you off with these kinds of moments. He isn't flirty like Jaemin or sly and playful like Haechan, but he’s just so...direct. Almost pushy, sometimes.

"I uhm… I don't know. I wouldn't know how to do it, maybe I can call someone and—"

You watched as he already started to undo the bandages on his torso, your eyes growing wide as he started to expose more skin.

"Jeno wait, I think we should call Taeyong for thi—oh my god."

Your words were cut off when he finally let the last of the bandages fall to reveal the cut on his torso. It started from his right chest, a few inches above the collarbone, and ran sideways to the middle where it cut off. Stitches held the skin together, and you could see the darkening sides of the flesh where it broke.

Yet it wasn't only that which caught your attention. Despite the dimness of the room, you could see other marks in his body, old scars that adorned his pale skin here and there. They varied in length and thickness, and you couldn't figure out what might have caused them. Were they from hunting accidents too…?

You immediately turned to look away. You didn't want to seem rude for staring. Jeno, however, seemed unbothered, if not mildly amused. Watching you through hooded eyes, he let you squirm for a little bit first before finally calling for your attention once more.

"Noona."

"Yes?"

"Help me, please?"

The tone he used on you finally made you turn with a slight wince, which only made him chuckle.

"You're not used to seeing injuries?"

"I'm not fond of them. I don't think anyone is."

“So let's get this over with then. I just need you to hold one side of the bandage for me while I wrap it again. It's hard when I do it alone."

You were about to open your mouth to say something again but chose to purse your lips after in the end. With a soft sigh, you finally picked yourself up from your spot by the foot of the bed to move closer to him. Jeno had already uncapped what looked to be a bottle of antiseptic at this point and had started to dab gently at his cut. You tried to watch without wincing too much as he tried to do the job, but it was probably too painful for him to move too much because he was missing a lot of it.

"Hey, just give me that. I'll do it," you asked as you gently took the cotton pad from him. Jeno wordlessly let you take it, eyes closely watching you as you ducked a little to clean his wound. You tried your best to keep your eyes on target, not allowing them to move anywhere else…

"It looks so bad… I'm surprised you can still move…" you whispered, more to yourself than to him as you frowned over it. You completely missed the way the corners of Jeno's lips ever so slightly tilted as your fingers brushed against his skin.

"Your fiance must have never gotten injured before, noona."

Your hand froze at what he said. Slowly, you looked up at him, only to see him smile at you.

"How did you…"

"Oh, Taeyong-hyung told us. He just reminded us to be nice to you or else you might quit. He said you are saving up for your wedding."

You didn't say anything at first after his explanation. There's nothing wrong about it, and it seems very in-character for Taeyong to say that since he seems to be the most worried about the possibility of you quitting. Still, you couldn't help the odd feeling that tugged at your chest, one you tried to shove back as you turned your attention again to what you were doing just so you could escape Jeno's gaze.

"Well… yes. I am saving up for it. But I also enjoy my time here… so far…"

Jeno smiled to himself as he looked down on you, eyes watching your every move.

"We'll behave too, we promise," he said softly that you almost didn't catch it.

"Until then, I'm sure your boyfriend wouldn't mind us borrowing you from him."

----

"Jisung! Chenle! Don't run too far into the forest, okay?" Taeyong called out to the two boys who have already turned on their tails and have started running towards the woods. You watched as the two laughed and pushed at each other playfully before finally disappearing into the forest edge.

Taeyong sighed beside you and let the hands he had on his hips fall to his sides. You turned to him and he gave you an apologetic smile.

"I'm sorry for suddenly asking you to watch over them. I totally forgot that I had to drive the rest to their dentist appointment today," he said with a scratch of his head. You simply shook a hand at him to wave him off.

"Don't worry about it. I don't have any other classes today anyway so I'll just wait here for them. But... uh... are you sure that it is safe for them to play there?"

"Yes. As long as they stay in the right zones. There are parts there where some wild animals might roam around this season but Jisung and Chenle already know that, don't worry. It won't be the first time they'll be going there too. They've been playing there since they were kids."

You nodded slowly, still a little bit unsure as your gaze floated over to the woods once more. If it were you, you wouldn't let them go near it, especially after what happened to Jeno.

"I'll have to go then. I promise I'll be back by 5. Then I can drive you back to town after."

You turned to look at Taeyong once more and gave him a grateful smile. You usually would have declined the offer under normal circumstances, but you honestly think it will be easier and safer for you to just have him take you back later.

"Thank you. I appreciate that."

The other nodded before giving you one last smile. Turning around, you watched him go to the car where Haechan, Renjun, and Jaemin were already waiting. Jeno was still in bed rest, so he is skipping the impromptu trip this time.

You only turned back to look at the woods ahead when you finally saw the black sedan disappear down the road. The forest looked foreboding in front of you, one look at it and you know there is no way you'll venture there in your own free will. With a sigh, you picked up the book you've brought with you and let yourself take a seat by the grass as you wait for Jisung and Chenle to return.

A sudden sharp caw that tore the air made you look up in surprise from the current chapter you were reading. You didn't have any idea how much time had already passed after you lost yourself in your book, but you were surprised to see that the sky had gone red over the horizon as a flock of crows soared from the depths of the forest. You watched as they circled just above the trees before finally disappearing far into the sky. That was when you realized it; it's been a while since Jisung and Chenle left.

With panic slowly creeping into your chest, you glanced at your watch then back at the mansion behind you. Taeyong didn't say anything about a curfew for the two kids, but your own sense told you that the pair should be back before night falls. Your gut told you that you should start looking for them, but the problem is that there is still more than half an hour left before Taeyong said they will return and the only other person left in the manor was Jeno—who can't even get out of bed.

You swallowed. Before you could make any decision, however, a bone-chilling sound floated into the air that made your blood turn cold. It was faint at first, making you wonder if it was just your imagination playing tricks on you, but then it called out again, and you felt your heart drop to your stomach.

It was Chenle. Screaming.

You broke into a run without a second thought.

It took you everything you have not to topple over the uneven forest floor as you wove through the trees. You have no idea where you were going, your mind and vision reeling as you tried to follow the voice. Your skirt have caught countless times on shrubberies and wayward tree barks as you tore through the woods but you kept going, not minding the tears on the fabric and the skin of your legs.

"Chenle! Jisung! Where are you!"

You called out desperately when the cries suddenly stopped. You were only barely aware of your heart thundering in your chest and your lungs burning from overexertion.

No. No. Don't stop screaming. I can't find you if you do.

"Chenle! Jisung!" You called out again desperately as you stopped at the edge of what seemed to be a small patch of land that dropped off to a ravine. The trees beyond were denser than the ones at the edge of the forest and the already fading light of the day wasn't helping the thick canopies above you that rained shadows on where you stood. You looked around and swallowed thickly. Something inside of you told you to turn around and run again but you stayed frozen on your spot, waiting for any sound from the kids.

It took you a few more heartbeats to pick up something again. Jisung's voice sounded far off to your right, maybe about 15 meters from where you currently are.

"Noona! Help! Chenle fell down!"

Your adrenaline jumped into action again.

"Jisung?! Jisung! Wait—Is Chenle with you?” A soft voice called out and you breathed in as you recognized the latter's tone. “I'm coming! Don't stop calling for me, okay, so I can find you!"

You were about to turn away from the edge of the steep ravine you were still standing on when you felt your back hit something hard. Before you could even turn around to look at it, however, a blunt force hitting the middle of your shoulder blades sent you toppling forward, straight into the sharp fall beyond.

You screamed, before everything went quiet as your head hit the bedrock below.

---

A.N. GOD THIS WAS SO LONG IM SO GLAD IT IS FINALLY DONE.

Taglist: @negincho, @jhornytrash, @jaeminhyuckiii, @jungwoosswhore, @jsturkey, @aj--7, @pukupukupawpau, @tomiesgirlfren, @vsszn

CHAPTER 4

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cherryjuicegf · 3 years ago

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for @toss-a-coin-to-your-stan-account look hannah they hold hands <3

She’s been standing still for two minutes.

Still, right beside the door, she has barely taken any steps inside the room. Barely made any sound. She has only closed the door behind her, and that with the faintest of sounds she could manage, because she can’t afford any louder torture in her ears. She can’t, and neither can he.

Strange, she thinks. She wants to laugh. Her presence had always been loud enough.

Yet she’s standing still, two minutes already since she entered the room and she hasn’t received a single glance. A flinch, of the ones that make her heart shatter in her chest, and she hates to think about the reason why. Not even a sign, something showing the acknowledgement of her standing there, forever waiting for something she doubts will ever come.

She never thought being ignored would evoke any emotion other than rage.

He’s staring out of the window. From the haunted look in his eyes, she suspects his view is entirely different than hers. There’s a sheet of paper laid on the table before him, and a pen, waiting, almost dusty from the neglect of what feels like centuries but it’s actually a few hours. If she looks closer, she will discern smudges on the paper, half-finished words that echo like screams, or like being interrupted by a scream. She wonders how many times his words died in his throat, to be replaced by hollow wails. His hands, grasping at the fabric of his shirt, knuckles turning white as they clench and grip, fingers trembling with pain, the same one that drips like poison from his stare, is enough of an answer. Too many times.

She takes a shuddering breath.

“Jaskier.”

He flinches. Of course. He hasn’t even noticed that she’s been waiting there. Or that the sun has set. Or that his fingers are close to ripping his shirt to shreds. Of course. He flinches, and turns around to look at her, and she wishes she could actually say he’s looking at her and not at a ghost, or a shadow, or a mocking figure belonging to the past. She chases his eyes with hers, feeling almost ashamed that she wants, no, needs to hold his gaze.

She will some day. But she fears that day won’t come soon at all.

Finally, his grip on the shirt relaxes, leaving it crumpled, and it’s terribly similar to the way she had found him lying there, moments before he was torn apart. Not so long ago.

He stares at her then, an old, familiar light in his eyes. Comforting. His lips twitch unpleasantly. “Oh, Yennefer.” His voice sounds distant. Less than it did. Still. More than it ever should. Yennefer has a feeling that’s what necromancers are used to hearing. She raises an eyebrow, as if in desperate self-defence, but the sudden shadow that covers his eyes as realization dawns on him almost makes her curse herself. “Have you been standing there for…” he swallows, a hint of apology in his tone, “long?”

She hates it. Hates how her chest aches. But this is no time to show it and she hopes it never will be. She shakes her head, her lips curving into something close to a smile. “It doesn’t matter.” Then, as though to ease the pain, as though she doesn’t know the answer, she nods at the forgotten sheet. “Did you write anything?”

Jaskier smiles in a way that almost reminds her of what had been. And oh, how she craves that time. “Care to be educated on versification, witch?” He raises an eyebrow, teasing. The bastard. “By me?”

Yennefer grimaces in return, as if completing a performance of mutual fakeness. “Don’t flatter yourself, bard. I’m only asking if the sheet I gave you is wasted. On the other hand,” she tilts her head, smug, “your useless smudges are less of a waste than your words.”

A huff, humourless. And then silence. She wishes it felt like a win. Only that, this time, Jaskier continues to stare at her and his eyes are screaming with something close to a plea, as though begging for a salvation that would never come.

She would be tired of saving him, if she could. The fact that she can’t makes her heart flutter in a way that makes her knees aching to give in.

Her eyes fly to a waiting lute case, patient beside the bed, and suddenly she craves to hear the sound of the lute strings again, in a melodic deceit from the present. They hadn’t been touched since she fixed them. Two weeks. Maybe three. She has lost count, and doubts Jaskier has cared to keep any record for a long time.

Still.

Slowly, she approaches the bed, and lifts the case from the floor. With the corner of her eye she glances at Jaskier standing up, probably to say he’s done something all day, or prove that he can. He can’t. She knows too well now.

The lute feels heavy in her hands, the weight of past melodies, and Jaskier is staring at her in confusion. Or hope. Or despair. She’s tired of guessing wrong. Only this feels right anymore.

“Here,” she says and gives him the lute, and it feels like giving away her heart. And he takes it.

His hands are trembling.

She remembers them. The hands. Bloody, and broken, fingers in the wrong place, shaking with pain and terror and every scream he had yet to utter, unable to, only whispering, Yennefer, my hands, please, they did, they broke, please, Yen, my hands, please, please, and laughing, and shaking, and clinging and laughing and she’d seen worse, far worse, but then again she hadn’t.

She remembers them, and remembers how they were before. And now, resting on the strings, they’re close, so close to what had been, and yet so far away. He stares at the lute, a foreign touch, and then raises his head to look at her, eyes wide in hopeful despair. “You think…” he clears his voice as though to hide the pain, “you think I can play?”

A deep breath. Yennefer lets herself smile, bittersweet. Somehow it feels right. “I think you should try.”

He does.

He sits on the bed, and strokes the strings, and his eyes well at the sound. Hers too. But she doesn’t admit it. She only sits beside him.

And then there’s a melody, one she doesn’t remember existing, and his voice is still rough and strained, but when he starts singing, something inside her settles. He’s looking at her.

They’re tender, the words. Speaking of a love found again, a sad story. Longing, and a dark-haired lady appearing through the darkness. Of a long-craved comfort. It feels familiar more than it sounds. No, it sounds like a song to be sung in great halls, to make the audiences weep and rise from their seats in applause, a promise to be heard throughout every cold winter breeze. But it feels like a hug.

And when suddenly the music stops, and Jaskier winces, Yennefer thinks it’s been too long since any of them had that comfort. So she places the lute aside and takes his hands in hers, just like then, only that now they’re not broken, but gentle and warm and, as he lets her hold them, and gazes at her, they’re grateful. She holds them, fingers softly working through the knots of freshly healed wounds, trying to cover up their memory with a caring touch. She holds them, and he’s looking at her, giving himself away freely, for once, and the ever present shadow seems to lift from his eyes, as though he’s staring at the sun after a long time.

And even when she’s finished mending, she still holds them. And meets his gaze. And there, fingers entwining and eyes locking together, it feels like puzzle pieces finally put into place.

#look at me feeding off the mere chance of crumbs #the witcher #yennskier #yennefer of vengerberg #jaskier #yennefer x jaskier #yenskier #chrysa writes #fic recs #hurt/comfort #<2k #i'd like to inform you that if they indeed break his hands i will lose it <3 #also remember the yen song... yeah #past hand injury

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betweendoctorsanddetectives · 3 years ago

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Hi hellooooo what is your favourite florence album? Shamefully the only one I know in full is lungs and though I know some songs from the other albums I need 2 listen to them fully so pls tell me where to start. Kiss

kiss! this is a very good question precisely because i love every single album and i would find it impossible to rank them! if i gave a ranking today i would want to amend it tomorrow. or even later tonight. because the songs which speak to me the most fluctuate wildly depending on my mood, the weather, whether i am drinking coffee or not etc

SO what i will do instead (because i am the way i am) is talk through each album and some of my favourite songs on them

LUNGS:

absolutely incredible album. i know you said you've listened to this in full already but i need to talk about lungs. can we talk about lungs. it's time to talk about lungs.

dog days ARE over - this song, as i've posted about before, gives me a visceral full body reaction. it makes me feel Free, i could be running through a sunny field to this (away from school at the end of the day as a child, away from annoying authority figures, away from responsibilities, take your pick). 2:15 makes my HEART thud in my chest. happiness literally did hit her like a bullet in the back

this album literally makes me have hope. it makes me think about the pervasiveness of love and an anticipation of the future. cosmic love; you've got the love; falling OUGH. falling's not the problem when i'm falling i'm at peace!!! also you should try going outside in the pelting rain with hurricane drunk playing

CEREMONIALS

this is a lot darker and intimate to me - lots about relationships to other people, yourself, ghosts. there's such a strong narrative to the songs, even if sometimes it is only because i have pictured very specific stories and settings and characters in my head every time i have heard the songs for years. some that are especially good for this: only if for a night; never let me go; no light, no light; seven devils (very sexy song to me personally).

as with all of her albums, there are some which are very sing-along-able. as in, you can experience and process a lot by loudly wailing the extremely good lyrics. try this with: shake it out; spectrum (yes, even the calvin harris remix); leave my body

HOW BIG, HOW BLUE, HOW BEAUTIFUL

this is simply exquisite. stunning lyrical imagery, conviction, and connection. i love the water, the nature. if you need to experience catharsis i would recommend turning to this album (out loud, volume up, deluxe edition - yes, you need to hear third eye twice when the demo comes on. don't skip it)

this is possibly the album i listen to the most. one of my most listened to songs of all time is delilah. i don't know how to explain why but this song makes any weight on my shoulders lift and i must have it on repeat on a regular basis or i will lose my ability to cope with anything. the opening notes make me start hovering and then "maybe not tonight" before the drums come in at 0:47!!!!!!!!!! the music and singing that starts at for example 1:12 and 1:24 make me levitate. then when it happens again but more intensely at 3:38 and the "too fast for freedom" refrain has me spinning in circles in the air. something about the way it builds and builds and builds like waves crashing. to ME.

anyway, other songs i particularly adore from this album: how big, how blue, how beautiful; third eye (you don't have to be a ghost here amongst the living! you are FLESH and BLOOD, you deserve to be loved and you deserve what you are given); st jude; mother (mother make me a big grey cloud! so i can rain on you things i can't say out loud)

HIGH AS HOPE

well this album came when i NEEDED hope. when i suddenly found myself on the precipice of the rest of my life (which, i have come to recoginse, i always have been and always will be).

i need to start by discussing the song june: the structure of this song KNOCKS my SOCKS off. it starts so quietly that you will turn it up in your headphones just so you can hear the gentle solitary notes, then turn it down again (slightly) for the singing. the breath. it is soft. then as it slowly swells with music towards the end of the first minute it just gets more and more beautiful.

i think i have to paint a picture of the fact that the first time i heard this song i was in london for the day and i had arrived on a coach and the coach was diverted and delayed because of the london pride parade - it was june - i heard the lyrics "those heavy days in june when love became an act of defiance" and it felt like i had a pit in my stomach when i understood what story she was telling here, because it felt overwhelmingly important all at once. i remember that i was so disheartened because the reason we were in london (visiting somewhere) didn't pan out, and we'd seen the parade. led by barclays fucking bank, surrounded by police, swarming with controversy about whether or not terves should be allowed to march (they did march). so we went to hyde park. to this day, it is one of the hottest heat wave days i have ever experienced (or at least been outside in). and we went to the little water fountains and i saw the most vivid rainbow in the spraying water, the closest i have ever been to a natural rainbow. i don't really have a conclusion for that story apart from that the song june makes me cry because i heard it on a day that was weirdly pivotal in helping to decide my future, and weirdly full of pride and light on a day when i was sick to the back teeth of corporate and criminal and hateful impositions . the repeated "hold on to each other" has stuck with me as one of my favourite florence lyrics since, despite its simplicity

june aside, some of my favourite songs from high as hope are: south london forever (reminds me of sitting on a train going through greater london and watching the sun set over the buildings. helps with Big Feelings about personal future and Change. also brings to mind pubs with friends, the feeling of Home); sky full of song (if your thoughts are going too fast you might need to lie down on the floor and put this on for a bit); patricia (drink too much coffee and think of you often); the end of love (i've always been in love with you, could you tell it from the moment that i met you ... and JOSHUAAA came down from the mountain); no choir (perfect perfect song. it's hard to write about being happy because the older i get i find that happiness is an extremely uneventful subject! the mundanity of contentness, the everyday of love). i also must comment that if you put this album on repeat then the transistion from the end of no choir into the beginning of june is sublime

tl;dr - i think all of her music is infinitely listenable and meaningful and i truly cannot recommend a place to start beyond just sitting down with each of her albums in full. i have particular favourites but i do literally love each and every song to varying degrees in varying ways. it takes less than 4 hours to do a full run of the albums and it will be worth it if you like it even half as much as i do

#florence

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simp4reggie · 4 years ago

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can i request a luke x reader where luke gets jealous of reader and reggie

Jealousy

Luke Patterson x Molina!Reader

Word Count: 856 Words

A/N: I had a different idea for luke and the reader to already be together. It’s a shorter one but I hope you like it!

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After the boys were able to get away from Caleb’s hold on them and found out they could be touched, Luke and I were able to actually have an official relationship. It was easier now that my dad and Carlos could see them too. Carlos likes to watch the band rehearse when he has the time and Reggie certainly likes that now he can have more than a one sided friendship with my family.

Since the band is gaining more traction since the Orpheum, Luke and Julie have been writing more songs. While they’re doing that, I’ve been spending more time with Reggie and Alex. Mainly Reggie since Alex has been going who knows where with his ghost boyfriend.

“(Y/N)! Look what I learned!” I look over from the couch and see a certain bassist picking up Alex’s drumsticks and playing a combination of sounds that wasn’t pleasant.

“Reg, you know he doesn’t want you touching his drums. Also you didn’t learn anything. That was awful.”

“What? This? I think it sounds pretty good.” He starts wailing on the drums again louder and messier than before.

I stand up, grab the sticks out of his hands, and run around the room to get away from him. We end up fust running in circles around the grand piano. I fake left but Reggie calls my bluff and wraps him around me to get the sticks.

“What’s going on, guys?” I hear from the doors. I look up to see Luke standing there with a confused look on his face. I notice that Reggie’s arms are still around me and wiggle away from his grip.

“Nothing babe. Reggie’s just trying to get killed by Alex.”

“Was he touching the drums again?” He wraps his arms around me and kisses my head.

“Of course he was.” Luke just shakes his head. “Well Julie and I just wrote a song that we would love for you to hear.” We go to Julie’s room and hear the song. The entire time they were singing you could feel the chemistry. They really are the best duetters I’ve ever seen.

I used to be a little jealous of Julie because of it but Luke has reassured me multiple times that there’s nothing going on. Now I know it’s a purely platonic relationship. It’s like what Joey says in Friends. When there’s no chemistry on stage, you should worry.

After the song was over, we bent back to the studio for them to start playing it with music. A couple minutes later Alex showed up and he walked over to his drums to jam with them. “Reggie!” Alex starts Reg around the studio and we all just laugh at their idiocy.

The band started getting calls from record labels and booking gigs left and right. Julie and Luke realised they needed more songs which meant more time spent together. In return, this meant I was hanging out with Reggie more.

“Is Luke with Julie again?” Reg asks sitting on the couch next to me.

“Yeah one of the labels wants to see some more songs so they’re stressed out.”

“Are you okay?”

“What? Yeah i’m fine. I know they’re just writing. Plus Julie’s my sister. I trust both of them.”

“Good. Hey you know you can talk to me if you need to. I got nothing going on.”

“Of course. Thank you.” I give him a hug when I hear the door open.

“Hey Luke! How’s writing with Julie going?” Reggie asks.

“It’s fine.” Luke says dismissively. I move over a bit to make room for him but he sits on a chair on the other side of the room.

“Alright i'm gonna go see what Ray is up to.” Reggie says leaving us alone.

“Luke? What's going on babe?” I walk over to Luke and sit on his lap. He just looks away and shrugs his shoulders. “Nothing.”

“Well, not nothing. Cause you won’t even look me in the eyes.”

“It’s nothing really.” He says shaking his head. “You know I love you right?”

“Yeah of course I do. I love you too.”

“And I’m sorry if I haven't been around lately.” He finally looks at you.

“Luke you don’t have to explain yourself. You’ve been busy writing. It’s okay.”

“So you’re not going to leave me for Reggie?”

“Reggie? What are you talking about? Is this because i’ve been hanging out with him more?” I ask, confused. “I don’t like him like that. I love you and only you.”

“I’m sorry. I just haven’t seen you in a while and then I saw you hugging and I started to over think. I’m sorry.”

“Luke. Stop apologizing. It’s okay.” You pull his head closer to yours and give him a small kiss. “You know you’re kinda cute when you're jealous. But seriously come talk to me when you’re feeling like this.”

That night, Luke told Julie he needed a night off to just be with you. You watched a couple movies, had take out, and fell asleep in each other’s arms. There was nobody more perfect than you were for each other.

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I feel like my writings been off so I’m gonna take longer in between posts and write more. I feel like I mainly write dialogue so let me know if you would like more description or anything lol

- Maddie xx

#bury-my-love-inthe-moondust #julie and the phantoms #charlie gillespie #jeremy shada #julie and the himbos #charlie gillespie x reader #jatp luke x reader #luke patterson x reader

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chaseatinydream · 4 years ago

Text

pirate king (26) || atz

You drift in and out of consciousness.

Dreams flash through your mind, juxtaposed with reality and hallucinations. You can no longer tell what is true or not, simply choosing to accept them all as you continue falling endlessly into nothingness.

You sit on a rock in a small cove. Men and women clamour around you in the water, tails flickering in beautiful jewel tones as they eagerly offer you all sorts of precious gifts, mother of pearl, a beautiful bouquet of colourful anemone, a silvered shell. You laugh and accept them, your tail shimmering with silver scales under the sun.

You feel a hand holding yours, cool metal brushing your soft skin. A pair of lips, soft and warm, brushes against your temple.

“Wake up soon, alright?”

Storms rage all around you. The sea heaves with massive, turbulent waves, the water grey with froth and lightning flashes. You scream with rage, despair, absolute loneliness and the seas respond, swirling around you as if they’re alive with fury.

There’s someone next to you. He’s reading to you in a chair at your bedside, a book about essential oils distilled from natural plants.

“And the clary sage oil is colourless, with a nutty smell. People say its effects feel euphoric, you know, do you think it’s true?”

You’re at the beach of a small island, sitting in the sand. The blue sea stretches on for miles, not another ship in sight. A young boy smiles and asks for your name. You don’t have one, but you tell him what you are. He can’t repeat the word to you with his tongue.

“Please, be okay. Don’t go without letting me thank you.” Someone sobs, wetness soaking into your shoulder. Another person reassures him quietly, his voice a little more gruff and rough around the edges, but still soft.

A man with green hair, San, you think his name with, dances around the ship wearing nothing but two starfish and a skirt of seaweed.

Okay, that’s definitely just a nightmare.

Someone’s singing. His voice is beautiful, striking high notes with ease and pulling you into the melody of the song. The notes wrap around you like a lullaby.

You’re in a prison cell, the place dank and dirty. In your hands, you hold the cut crystal, running your fingers along the words inscribed into it until you find the catch that separates the chain from the gem. The crystal reveals itself to be a tiny vial, containing a mixture inside that sparkles like liquid diamonds. You close your eyes one last time, remembering the little boy’s face, and swallow the contents whole.

“Please wake up.” Someone whispers to you. He holds your hands against his forehead as he pleads with you, and your fingers brush cloth. “Please, Chin Hae, wake up.”

Chin Hae.

Is that your name?

No, it’s not. I don’t have a name. But I am ****.

Chin Hae?

Hurry and wake up, Ch*n H**.

Why are you calling me that? My name isn’t C*** H**.

Hurry up, hurry up, ****.

Your eyes fly open.

You’re in a bed, staring at the ceiling. For a moment, you stay like that, suddenly uncomprehending of who you are or what you are. Every limb feels heavy, as if you haven’t moved them in months, and when you finally muster the strength to turn your head sideways, there’s a head of green hair there.

You scream.

“Wassgoingon?” The head of green hair mumbles, lifting his head to look for the source of the commotion. His eyes are bleary, tired, until they meet yours, then he freezes in shock.

The two of you stare at each other for a moment.

A word forms on your lips instinctively. “M…” Your voice is rough and scratchy from disuse. “Master?”

The man continues staring at you in shock for another few seconds. Then his eyes widen and he finally lets out a massive scream.

“What’s going on?” A young man with dark hair bursts into the room with a club over his shoulder, looking around for the source of the green haired man’s discomfort. When his eyes fall on you, they widen almost comically.

The club drops to the ground.

“Jongho-hyung?” You ask, and suddenly memories come flooding back to you, sitting in the square with a cream puff in front of you, entering a fortune teller’s booth together. The maknae simply keeps staring at you, before he finally reaches forward to pinch your cheeks.

“Ow!” You shout in pain and bat his hand away, but it’s like trying to move a ship by blowing at its sails. “That hurts!”

His hand falls limply to the side, mouth hanging open in shock. “I’m not dreaming.” He turns to San, who still hasn’t moved from his seat, jaw dragging along the floor. “You’re not dreaming.”

San nods confirmation, just as shocked. You frown. Did you turn into a ghost or something?

Then Jongho tears out of the sickbay before you can ask his what the commotion is, and you can hear him screaming outside. “Everyone! Chin Hae is awake!”

You blink owlishly at them in confusion. Honestly, you just woke up. There’s nothing special about it.

San catches you in a crushing hug, so tight you can feel every rib creaking, but you simply put your arms around him. You’re stunned for a moment, but raise a hand to stroke his back to comfort him.

You feel him sob against you.

“Thank you. Thank you for being alive.” He wails into your sleeve, and your shoulder is damp with his tears. You can barely bring yourself to ask him why he’s crying, confused to as why everyone seems to be overly excited about you waking up. Then it comes back to you.

The whipping.

Captain.

Betrayal.

Wooyoung.

The gunshots.

Blood.

Yeosang.

You force yourself into a sitting position as fast as you can, glancing around the room desperately. It’s empty, except for you. Your heart sinks.

Yeosang isn’t there.

“What happened to Yeosang-hyung?” You demand, turning to your master. “Oh god, is he dead? Did I fail? Did he-”

San opens his mouth to reply, but he’s cut off from answering you when someone bursts in through the door of the sickbay, panting hard and hunched over on his knees. When he finally does catch his breath, he looks up, and then he sees you.

It’s Yeosang.

It’s Yeosang, still looking a little pale and ashen and weak. It’s Yeosang, who looks like he hasn’t slept in days. But it’s Yeosang, who’s blessedly and wonderfully alive, and that’s all the matters to you.

“Yeosang-hyung-”

He takes three steps to cross the room and wraps his arms around you, delicately and gently, as if he’s afraid you might dissolve into nothingness if he touches you too hard. San moves away so Yeosang can take his place, and the navigator stares at you in wonderment. You turn a little red in embarrassment.

“You’re alive.” He says, still stunned. You nod in reply, a sheepish smile on your face.

“Yeah.”

“You’re not a ghost.”

“Mmhmm.”

“I’m not dreaming?”

The way he says the last question, as if he’s so sure that you’re nothing but a figment of his imagination, how he doesn’t dare to trust what he sees in case it’s all a lie breaks your heart. You grip his hand earnestly, warm blood flowing under yours.

“You’re not.”

Then Yeosang is cradling you to him tightly, silent tears running down his cheeks. “Don’t ever do that again, you dumbass.”

A laugh pulls at your lips. Yeosang is swearing, and maybe that’s a bigger miracle than you actually coming back.

“I won’t if you don’t save me the next time.”

Yeosang pulls away from you a little, just to look at you, sniffing as he wipes his eyes with the hem of his sleeve. “I can’t do that.”

“We’ll have a rotation.” You tell him, as you help him dab dry the tears, an amused smile on your face. “I’ll sacrifice myself for you on Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays and weekends. You can have the others.”

Yeosang hiccups a little through his smile and tears. “No fair, you get so many more days than I do…”

The two of you sit in silence, both of you having gone through the same trial together has forged a bond between the two of you no one else has. Yeosang is smiling so brightly, like a small sun, and you can’t help but laugh at how happy he looks.

Then San clears his throat. “Yeosangie, she needs to change.”

Yeosang glances down at you, only to realise that you’re wearing a thin white shirt over your bindings and nothing else. His face turns cherry red and he leaps away from you, scrambling to avert his eyes with his hands and immediately knocks his nose into the door frame.

“I’ll be going now!” He squeaks, and you laugh at how sweet he is. He glances back at you one last time, shyly peeking through his fingers as a real, genuine smile blooms across his face. “I’m really, really happy, Chin Hae.”

Your breath catches in your throat.

“I know.”

With one last smile, the navigator exits the room, leaving you and San in silence.

Your master stares at you for a long moment. Then he opens his mouth to speak.

“That should have killed you.”

You had known that the moment you’d started the link between you and him. What you were intending to do, what you were trying to get back, and the price you’d have to pay. You had known all of this, and you’d still gone ahead with it anyway.

“I know.”

He fixes you with a stern look, as if you’ve just made a mistake in your healing theory or you’ve done a bandage wrong. “That was the stupidest thing I’ve seen anyone do, and I live with Wooyoung and Yunho.”

A snort forces its way out of your mouth.

“But you did it anyway, and you’re still here.” San smiles gently, his strict facade cracking. He looks so relieved, as if he’s been carrying this weight on his shoulders ever since you attempted the healing. Then something strikes you.

“How long have I been out?”

“About a week or so.” Your master replies as he places a bundle of clothes on the bed. Your eyes fly open in shock. Exactly how close did you come to completely draining yourself that day?

Your master jabs a finger at you.

“I should expel you as my student.” Fear wells up in you for a moment at the thought, but then he shakes his head and smiles. “Get dressed, apprentice.”

With that, he leaves the room.

You change your clothes slowly, your muscles sore and limbs stiff. As you take off your shirt, your fingers brush the silver chain of your necklace.

The words inscribed on it leave your lips.

“I will be with you every step of the way.”

Suddenly, excitement wells in you as you fumble with the necklace, brushing your fingers across the silver, trying to find the hidden clasp. And as though it knows you are looking for it, you find it faster than you thought you would, and there’s a small clicking sound.

The tiny crystal vial falls to the bed.

I want a name, you hear a voice whisper around you, carried on the wind as it swirls around you and fades.

Your mouth falls open.

Because the voice was yours.

#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #hongjoong #seonghwa #yunho #yeosang #jongho #san #mingi #wooyoung #ateez pirate king #w; ot8 #w; fanfiction #w; pirate king

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join-the-joywrite · 4 years ago

Text

Take my hand (take my whole life too)

"We played the Oprheum!"

The bouncing hug only lasted a second or two. While the boys regained a significant amount of lost strength, Julie's was slowly dwindling. She was, after all, only human and was out of home way later than usual. Her own internal clock seemed to be screaming at her to at least sit down.

Instead, she went down with the boys as her foot caught on a cable and she stumbled to the floor.

Alex made for a soft landing, one for which her apology was littered with giggles. Alex didn't mind. The slight pain was welcome in comparison to Caleb's jolts. Not to mention, he'd wanted to hug Julie ever since she cried during her not-so-private performance of her mother's song weeks ago. So he lay on the floor and squished Julie tight, only bringing forth more giggles.

"Hey, my turn!" Reggie yelled, rolling over and dropping himself half on Julie, fully on Alex.

"Oof," Luke commented, "that looks like it hurt."

"It did," Alex wheezed, adjusting himself to get used to the additional weight.

As one, all three of them held out an arm to Luke, who didn't hesitate to scoot closer and join the cuddle pile. Head on Alex's shoulder, he was right in front of Julie. He gave her a smile that, had she been standing, would've probably made her lose her balance. She gave him one back.

"I like this," Reggie murmured contentedly, closing his eyes.

"Yeah," Julie agreed, relishing in the fact that she could finally hug her boys, "me too."

They stayed like that for a moment before Alex sat up with great difficulty, sending them all tumbling. "You're all very heavy," he stated by way of explaining.

Julie chuckled and moved to stand up. Luke and Reggie grabbed one of her arms each.

"Stay," both whined. Reggie continued with a grin. "I promise I can be a soft pillow for you."

"I'd love to, honestly, but Carlos is waiting for me. He wanted to talk to me and. . ."

"Fine," Reggie huffed, "but just know that I'm feeling incredibly hurt right now."

Julie ruffled his hair, grinning when he closed his eyes and smiled under her touch. "There's always tomorrow."

Still, all three of them pouted when Julie stood up and righted her clothes.

"I'll see you guys in the morning," she said before walking to the doors. She paused just before closing it. "Thank you, guys."

Alex gave her a wave. Luke smiled at her with a dopey expression. Reggie continued to pout.

Julie bounded up the pathway, gait as giddy as her smile. Carlos was waiting for her in the living room.

"Hey," she said, joining him on the couch.

"Hey."

"Whatcha got there?" she asked, nodding to the paper Carlos' hands were clamped around. "Another French dip recipe?"

Carlos shook his head. "You know what this is."

"I . . . really don't."

"Your band! They're--!" Carlos stopped and glanced around looking for their father. He leaned across the vouch and whispered to Julie with wide eyes, "ghosts."

Julie forced a laugh. "What? No, don't be silly, there's no such thing as ghosts."

Carlos lifted his eyebrows. "Okay, then explain this."

Julie picked up the little black and blue page Carlos tossed to the middle of the couch, recognising it as a CD insert. For Sunset Curve. Julie's own eyebrows lifted slightly, but she continued to pretend like she hadn't a clue what was happening. Then she turned it over and knew the jig was up. Staring up at her was all four members of Sunset Curve. Trevor, or Bobby, sure looked different when he was younger.

"They're just lookalikes--"

"I'd believe you if they were here and we could touch them."

The idea of being able to hold and hug her bandmates brought a warm smile back to Julie's face. She quickly wiped it off and shook her head. "Where'd you even find this?"

"In the box with the French dip recipe."

"Ah."

Carlos suddenly looked around wildly. Julie looked around too.

"What? What happened? What are we looking for?"

"Are they here?"

"What? No, they're in the garage--"

"Aha!" Carlos grinned and folded his arms. "You're a terrible liar, Jules."

"Wh-- I am not!"

"You are, though."

Julie jumped slightly and moved away from Reggie. Carlos noticed and immediately turned his gaze where Julie looked. "Are they here now? Tell them I say hello!"

Julie rolled her eyes. "They can hear you, dork -- and it's just Reggie."

"Tell him that I say hello."

"Reggie says hello," Julie said, heaving a resigned sigh. "What are you doing here? I told you I'd see you in the morning."

"I knew it," Carlos whispered to himself as he watched his sister talk to thin air. She looked, in all honesty, a bit insane, but at least he knew he was right about the ghosts. "So how does the ghost thing even work? How come I can't see him now, but we can all see them when you play?"

Julie whipped her head from Reggie to Carlos. "It -- I'll explain it all tomorrow, okay? It's been a long day. Reggie, go back to the studio. Carlos, to bed. It's late."

"All right," Carlos grumbled, sliding off the couch. He paused at the stairs and glanced back to see Julie scolding nothing. He hoped he'd get to officially met the guys. Julie made them seem fun.

"All right, little man, what do you wanna hear?"

Julie repeated the question to Carlos, letting him know that it was Reggie who asked.

Carlos thought for a moment. "I like the song you were singing before you got back into the music program."

"Oh, that's not our song, that -- that--"

"No, it's okay," Luke said, "I'm sure we can work something out."

"I -- okay."

Carlos sat down on the couch, almost bouncing with excitement as Julie took a seat behind the piano. The melody she played wasn't loud and energetic like their usual songs. It was quiet and gentle. Even when the band kicked in, they were much softer than usual. Julie hummed along where the words should be so that Carlos could easily speak to the boys.

"I'm--"

"Wait!" Carlos said, jumping off the couch, cutting Luke off. "I'm gonna guess based on what Julie says about you."

"You talk about us?" Luke asked with a teasing grin.

Julie hit a particularly furious note. "Shut up."

"Luke, Reggie and Alex," Carlos said, pointing to the correct band member as he went.

"Nice, little man!"

"This is so cool," Carlos whispered, eyes widening when Reggie paused playing and knelt down for Carlos to stick his hand through Reggie's arm. "Woah."

The band noticed that they were very intangible to Carlos.

Luke was only slightly disappointed when Carlos chose to focus his attention on Alex next.

"I like your hoodie."

"Thanks," Alex said, beaming. "Here, you wanna try?"

"Nah, I don't play music . . . okay, maybe a little."

Julie laughed softly as she watched Alex stand and then point where Carlos should hit. To keep them from disappearing, she continued the piano. Luke kept up with his guitar, grinning at her all the while. Their little musical conversation didn't go unnoticed by Reggie and Alex, who shared a knowing glance before Carlos grabbed Alex's attention.

"Have you ever accidentally stabbed your drums through with the sticks?"

"No, and please do not do that. We have no idea what it costs to repair dead instruments."

Carlos handed the drumsticks back to Alex and hopped off the chair. He stood in front of Luke, who knelt down as Reggie had done.

"So. You're the one my sister has a crush on."

"Carlos!" Jullie yelled, standing up and slamming down about five wrong keys.

"It was nice meeting you," Carlos yelled as he fled the garage.

With her face burning, Julie chased him down.

Alex and Reggie did their best not to laugh. They really did. But the shell-shocked look on Luke's face was hilarious. Even the withering glare Luke sent them didn't help quieten their laughter.

Up in the house, Ray Molina thought he was about to witness a wrestling match. "Julie! What are you doing?"

Julie, who suddenly realised there was no way to explain why she was attacking Carlos without either sounding like a lunatic or exposing the phantoms to her father, slowly slid down to the ground.

Carlos sat up on the couch. "Julie has a crush on Luke! Julie has a crush on Luke! Julie has a--"

"Oh, that is it!"

Perplexed, Ray watched Julie spring back on the couch with a war cry, followed by a pained, "How could you say that in front of him?!"

"Who's Luke?"

Carlos, seemingly determined to ruin Julie's life, broke out from her seeking arms and grinned at Ray. "The beanie boy in her little boyband--"

"CARLOS!"

"Julie," Ray said, a playful warning edge creeping into his voice as he folded his arms, "is there something you want to talk about?"

"No! Not at all! Excuse me, I have to go, um, rehearse!"

"Rehearse?" Ray exchanged an amused grin with Carlos. "What for?"

"Uh, future gigs? You know, since we played the Orpheum, we might get like a ton of calls and -- oh, like this, see?" As Julie held up her phone, both Ray and Carlos saw Flynn's name, but both decided to give Julie a small reprieve. In the meantime, Carlos could fill Ray in about this little crush business.

"You are not going to believe what just happened," Julie said, taking the stairs two at a time. "I took Carlos down to the garage to meet the guys, you know, 'cause he figured them out and he wanted to meet them, but then he told Luke I have a crush on him and I ended up chasing Carlos back to the house 'cause I didn't want to stay in the garage with Luke -- and Alex and Reggie -- and then my dad caught us fighting on the couch and then Carlos told my dad that I have a crush on Luke and my life is over!"

Flynn took a moment to respond. "Well . . . it's not like he's wrong, is he?"

"Flynn!" The wail that Julie threw into her pillow as she face planted her bed was equal parts betrayed and mortified. "How am I supposed to show my face at practice now? Can I come and bury my head in the sand at your place?"

Flynn laughed over the phone. "Grow up, Jules. You turned Nick down for this air cutie. Nick. You made your choice, now live with it."

"Flynn," Julie growled.

"Okay, okay. Look, you have to talk about it at some point. There's no way you can have that kind of fire on stage without some mutual attraction, and that's just Luke and Reggie. Then there's Luke and you. Jules, that's not even a fire anymore. There is something serious between you two and even though I still think it's a bad idea because he's, you know, air, I still think you need to talk about it before the wrong thing blows up."

"I know," Julie sighed. "I can handle Luke -- I think. It's my dad I'm worried about. How do I explain it all without him wanting to take me to a shrink?"

"Don't tell him anything. Show him. Maybe with a little less flair than you did with me. Play him something soft. Like . . . wasn't your mom in a couple of bands when she was our age? Maybe he'd know one of her songs. Maybe if you guys played something of hers, he'll have enough of his head around him to know it's all real, but enough of it will be in the clouds that it'll be easy to explain."

Julie stared at her phone, at the contact photo she had of Flynn. "You are a genius."

"I know. So, I was just calling to ask how you're holding up, but I'm going to assume everything is fine and the guys didn't cross over?"

"Yeah, no, it was really weird. Caleb's curse just sort of . . . broke, I guess, after I hugged them."

"Wait, hold up. You hugged them? What was that like, arms hanging in the air and hoping you were touching?"

Julie sighed a happy sigh. "We have a lot to talk about."

"I'll be there for dinner, no excuses -- and I expect your dad to know what's going on by then."

Julie rolled over and muffled a groan of despair into her pillow.

"Rough day?"

"It's only ten," Julie whined, lifting her head to give Alex her sad eyes.

Alex smiled. "You'll be fine -- I mean with your dad thing. With Luke on the other hand. . ."

Julie faux sobbed into her pillow, eliciting a soft chuckle from Alex, who sat down on her bed. He reached out for her shoulder then quickly drew back. Ever since Julie left the garage last night, it had been on his mind -- on all their minds -- that the hug was a one-time thing. He didn't want to confirm their fears if they were right.

"Hey, it's okay, Jules."

Julie let out a strangled wail that took Alex a few seconds of clamping his mouth shut to avoid laughing at the poor girl.

"I'm serious. You know, Luke, he . . . he's not great with feelings. He talks with music, with songs, with lyrics. He says the most important things when he looks at you on stage or at a rehearsal or when you're writing music together. He's just scared. I mean, we all are, but him most."

Julie sat up, hugging her wail-pillow to her chest. "You sound like you're speaking from experience."

Alex shrugged. "All I'm saying is, give him a chance -- and give Carlos a break. Honestly, he might have just done you a favour."

"I cannot believe you're taking Carlos' side."

"I'm not! I'm not, I'm just -- things are already complicated. How much worse can they get?"

Julie sighed. "I don't know. . ."

"Well, it's not like Luke does either. He's locked himself in the bathroom and Reg and I think he's been crying in the bathtub this whole time. We'd phase through the door but Luke can actually hit us if he wants to so. . ."

"Oh, and you think I can't?" Julie teased.

The two shared an amused grin, but beneath it, both were thinking the same thing. What if she couldn't?

"All right, I'll tall to him. But you and Reggie have to leave."

Julie ventured into the empty garage. She looked around for Reggie and Alex, unsure if she was relieved or not when she didn't find them. Up in the loft, they watched Julie disappear as she headed further in towards the bathroom door.

She knocked gently. "Luke?"

Silence.

"Come on, I know you're in there. Alex says you've locked yourself in and won't come out."

"I'm not Luke."

"Okay, but I need to talk to Luke so can you pass on the message for me?"

"I'll let him know."

Julie smiled, finding Luke's behaviour somewhat amusing. She leaned against the door. "I'm sorry about Carlos, he . . . he just really enjoys embarrassing me in front of people. I guess he figured since you guys can't really speak to other people, you'll have to talk to me and we'll all have to confront whatever he said so that's why he picked you to tease and --" Julie broke off with a sigh.

The bathroom stayed silent.

"And I'm sorry for running out after him. I was just . . . I was afraid of what you'd say."

When Luke spoke again, though his voice was much softer, it was also much clearer. As if he were closer to the door. "Why? Was he . . . telling the truth? Did you say something?"

Julie fidgeted with the sleeves on her yellow jersey. "No, but I'm not exactly the most subtle person and if you haven't noticed, I suck at lying."

Luke laughed softly. "Oh, we noticed. Everyone knows you're a horrible liar."

"Thanks," Julie said with a grin, "I mean, I really just came here to affirm what a bad liar I am."

"Ooh, sarcastic too."

"Shut up."

"Well?" Luke said after a moment of silence. "Was he?"

Julie leaned against the door and sighed. "What does it matter? It's not like anything would come of it."

"It does matter, Jules. It -- it matters because -- well, I mean, you matter. To me."

"I know," Julie said softly, turning so that her back was against the door. "It sucks, doesn't it?"

"Not all of it sucks," Luke murmured from the other side of the door. "We could find a way. You've already done so much that no other lifer ever has, as far as anyone knows. Why stop there?"

Julie laughed. "Your ambition is very inspiring, Luke, but everything has a limit."

"So find that limit, then. You'll never know how high it is if you stop now."

Julie felt something brush her hand and glanced down to see Luke's arm phasing through the door. She wanted to reach for his hand but she was afraid she'd just pass through him. So she made a joke instead.

"You do realise that a floating arm is way more unsettling than anything else ghosts have ever done, right?"

"How's a floating head?" Luke asked, pulling his hand back and leaning forward. He gave Julie a grin. "That's always scary, right?"

"Stop it, that's weird."

Neither noticed that Julie had managed to make physical contact with Luke until after she'd shoved him back into the bathroom.

"If I come out there, are you going to poke me in the eyes again?"

"First of all, I didn't," Julie said, appreciating that Luke wasn't reacting with the panicked excitement she felt. "Second of all, I'll try not to."

"Okay, but if you do, I'm really going back into the bathtub."

Julie twisted her fingers and wrung her wrists and bounced nervously as she waited for Luke to step through the door.

"Can we try that again?" Luke asked, holding out both hands to her.

The scene felt vaguely familiar to Julie, and everything came crashing down when her hands passed through Luke's once and then twice.

"You're nervous," Luke said softly, "there's no need to be. You didn't think last time. You weren't nervous."

"I can't. I don't know what it is--"

"Yes, you do. You know it's not us doing anything. You're the one with all the magic, Jules."

Nervous but now confident, Julie tried once again. She thought she'd be able to walk on water whe she felt Luke's hands close around her own. The smile he gave her was the usual dopey look she always noticed him wearing around her.

"See? It's all you."

Julie squeezed his hands, almost like she was afraid she wouldn't be able to hold on much longer. "I like this," she murmured.

"Hey, Jules?"

"Yeah?"

Luke watched her eyes widen the tiniest bit as she gave him a questioning look. "Uh, do you -- about what Carlos said . . . We will talk about that, right?"

"Yes. I promise. Just . . . later?"

"Okay." Just the promise was enough for Luke. Besides, he could hold her, now. He could hold her hand, brush her hair out of her face, hug her. He could even flick her nose or tug her curls to annoy her, nudge her around when she didn't laugh at his jokes. And if -- he hoped she did -- but if she didn't feel the same way he did, then being able to be her best friend and just high five her now and then would still be enough. She wasn't just out of reach anymore.

Ayeeeee this just be sitting in my notes??? I found it like this??? All it needed was a title??? Speaking of, I might change that title and steal it for a sad fic oop

#julie and the phantoms #julie and the fat ones #julie and the himbos #jatp #julie molina #luke patterson #juke #jukebox #jatp fic

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grandcompany · 3 years ago

Text

5 Songs - Capricious Wolf

I've been sitting on this one for a few days while I mulled it over so buckle the fuck up because I got shit to say about this girl. Courtesy cut so I don't wreck your dash with sad, angry Roe lady feels and banging folksy / bluegrass / Americana songs.

1) After Many Miles - The Ghost of Paul Revere

This song as a whole is just a great vibe for Wolf. Heavy. Loud. Sorta aggressive but also intensely sentimental. I imagine it as someone singing about her. I also love these lyrics in particular because y'know:

Oh lover I'll see you there waiting in the willows with your autumn hair. Oh lover I'll see you there after many miles.

2) Magpie - The Mountain Goats

Have you ever run across a song after creating a character and you're like, "Shit, sure hope I didn't hear this a month ago and then just turn it into a character?" That's this song. Y'know what? Maybe I WILL just copy and paste the whole song here:

Feed the kittens in the kitchen Set food out for the strays Try hard to do your best The magpie will have his way Fill your mouth with berries By the full light of the moon Work all night if you have to The magpie comes at noon Shore up the crucifixes Above the archways and the doors The magpie will come at midday And you will go down on all fours And when the cherries white with blossoms Be ready and be brave And remember what we had here When there was something left to save

3) Bitter Water - The Oh Hellos

This song is for Wolf's relationship to the Twelveswood and Gridania. It's a place she loves. It's her home. But that love and that feeling of belonging doesn't stop her from seeing the terrible things her nation does to people in the name of balance and in honor of the elementals. These lyrics in particular hit HARD:

I still taste you on my lips Lovely bitter water The terrible fire of old regret is honey on my tongue And I know I shouldn't love you I know I shouldn't love you but I do

Even now you mark my steps Lovely bitter water All the days of our delights are poison in my veins I know I shouldn't love you I know

4) Avila - The Wailing Jennys

If Bitter Water is about her relationship to Gridania then Avila is about her response to it. Particularly these lyrics here:

I will not rest Until this place is full of sunlight Or at least until the darkness Is quiet for a while And we will not wait For the murdered to come calling The night will simply fall And the morning will rise

5) We Can Only Listen - Ruth Moody

Look, up there's all this political shit and feels about one's role in society and obligations to your fellow man and so I gotta have one song about a past (& future !?) love in here, right? You're damn right I do, also to fill my Ruth Moody quota. Anyway, Wolf, stop being an idiot and go get it.

Would it be easier beneath the sun Where apples fall and rivers run And I'd be lying there next to you In the silence it all comes through And then we wouldn't have to speak All you'd hear is my heart-beat We cannot choose the ones we love When our hearts they speak so loudly We can only listen We can only listen

Tagged by: @luck-and-larceny who should know what she was getting into by now. <3

Tagging: @pidgeon-sorrel, @the-void-stared-back, @the-warrior-and-the-mage, @etherealrosexiv, @vazaymir, @violetlypurple, @mischiefwife, & anyone else who wants to tag me in their replies I love this stuff!

#wolf answers #wolf asks #wolf playlist #slap these on the orchestron and lets go #wolf posts

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ella-animine · 4 years ago

Text

The Night We Met

The wind whistled through the trees like a heartbroken sigh. It cried out across the distance as though it could pierce through ones heart. Perhaps it could, if the heart it tried to pierce was not made of stone, that of a Witcher. Still, the sound reminded Geralt too much of the wails of monsters before dying. A swan song, of sorts; that of a creature mortally wounded.

It was wrong to have hurt him so on the mountain, wrong but necessary in the long run. It would do no good to have the bard follow him. Still, as much as he tried to forget, Geralt couldnt shake the memories and the feelings that Jaskier had drudged up. He had been his companion after all, one that Geralt had rather unfortunately cared for. But now, at what may be the end of all things, Geralt was alone, just as he was meant to be. No Mage or Bard to keep him company, Geralt took to The Path just as he always had.

There were flickers of him everywhere. The wind through the trees sounded like him; mournful. Every snapped twig drew Geralt’s attention. Worst yet, every town with a bard strumming in the ale house seemed to sing the same songs.

“I am not the only traveler,

Who has not repayed his debt”

He tried not to listen, but his ears often betrayed him and his head was filled with the lyrics. Sometimes his mind would wander to thinking of what Jaskier might be singing, what sort of scathing remarks he might have put to music in retaliation for Geralt’s actions.

Most nights Geralt had difficulty sleeping. This issue was only exacerbated by the lack of a calm heartbeat nearby to help him feel as though he were a little less alone in the world.

“I’ve been searching for a trail to follow, again...”

Jaskier was well and truly lost in the world. He slowly bounced from town to village, drinking all the ale he could get his hands on and trying to scrape together enough meager coin to survive. His situation was hurt by the fact that lately he couldn’t bring himself to play the lively tunes or dramatic ballads that had won him fame and prestige. Rather he favored plucking slow and mournful notes from his lute, whispering and whimpering words that would sour even the worst drunkard’s fine mood.

He thought of where he was going in life. More directly, he thought often of where he should go more immediately. Perhaps Oxenfurt would permit him to return, although he wasn’t sure how useful he could make himself as a professor in such a sorry state. He would no doubt be unwelcome at his family table should he ever try to return home. His mother had made very clear what she thought of his chosen profession as well as his choice of company.

But he was without company anymore, and soon to be without a profession if he could not turn his life around.

Jaskier sighed to himself, rolling over in the hay that he had scraped together for a bed. He mumbled sorrowfully to himself

“Take me back to the night we met.”

Geralt tried various ways to take his mind off of the stupid bard and all of his tunes and lies. No matter how hard he threw himself into hunting, or how many prostitutes he paid, Geralt still found his thoughts drift. Jaskier had not been such a huge part of his life, or so he had thought, but the near constant stream of thoughts seemed determined to convince him otherwise.

As Geralt lay staring up at the ceiling after a rather athletic bout with another whore, he thought he may need to seek a mage or a healer to clear his head of the excess.

“Then I can tell myself, what the hell I’m supposed to do...”

“And then I can tell myself,

Not to ride along with you...”

Jaskier sat curled up in the back of the cart a kind enough farmer had let him hitch a ride on for the next town. He pulled his knees closer to his chest and cradled his lute in his arms. He had not felt such low emotions like this in years, and although he detested to call them so, he could not escape the truth that he was experiencing the feelings of abandonment.

Jaskier stared into the distance, trying not to think of all the times he had walked these roads with Geralt over the years. He tried desperately not to think about all the times he had shared with the Witcher, that he would never be able to get back.

Time evidently wasted.

“I had all and most of you, some and now none of you”

Geralt huffed at the lyrics that he heard. For some damnable reason the new most popular song of the Continent was about lost love, and the lyrics drove him crazy. There was no escape from it, every bar or inn was taken over by one bard or another singing the tune. It floated on the wind and whispered between the trees even when Geralt chose to forgo a warm bed for the forest floor.

It was not that he drew parallels to his life, his own lost companionship and love, Geralt insisted that it was simply because all of the bards and poets were pure shit at performing it. He dared not acknowledge the following thought, that he knew of one such person who was not likely to disappoint. It had been almost months at this point, and Geralt still grit his teeth to think of how many innocuous things could force thoughts of Jaskier to overtake his mind. Whatever form of companionship the two had shared was surely not worth all of the trouble he was suffering for having ended things.

“I don’t know what supposed to do, haunted by the ghost of you”

Jaskier felt a sharp pain in his chest. The indecent proposal of becoming another’s bedfellow should have excited him, and yet he could not shake the pervasive ache that such a proposal brought.

He found a sad smile to paste on for show and blamed his lack of interest on being weary from his travels. He left before he could hear another word of argument, favoring to retire to his sparse room for the night and make a valiant effort to not allow himself to weep.

Despite himself, Jaskier lay on the threadbare mattress staring at the ceiling; he felt tears spill over and run down his temple. He wept harder still.

“Take me back to the night we met...”

Geralt propped himself up under a tree. He had narrowly escaped a violent collision with a territorial griffin, and was rather worse for wear. He tore the stopper from a vial and drank down the potion, knowing it would not cure him instantly but would alleviate some of the pain. The combination of lost blood and the potion clouding his senses permitted thoughts Geralt had shoved away to come to the forefront of his mind now.

He rarely felt fear for himself, as it was his duty to die if a monster ever truly bested him. There were times, though, that Geralt had known fear. He would never allow anyone to know, but here in the hazy theater of his mind he was free to relive all of the negative feelings he had little control over.

“When the night was full of terrors”

Geralt had known fear but a few times since boyhood. Few things were quite as terrifying as the agony of the Trial of the Grasses, but still there were moments etched into his memory that he would never be able to forget.

One such prominent memory was the day he had watched a curse force blood to bubble up out of his companions sputtering mouth at the grim news that he was likely to die. Geralt had done his best to remain unaffected, but he knew the moment that that Jaskier looked at him he would never be able to forget that sinking feeling of helplessness.

There were so many things he had never said.

“And your eyes were filled with tears”

As he lay tossing and turning Jaskier permitted himself the small mercy of letting his mind wander to thoughts of comfort. How he enjoyed a good strong wine time and again, or the rumble of pride he felt at receiving an audience’s applause. He mused about soft sheets and a full belly. He thought of the simple pleasures of enjoying his favorite fruit during peak ripeness, feeling the juice spill over his lips and be caught by a quick tongue. He thought of the slide of tongue and mouth when kissing, how a lover might show another affection.

How Jaskier had drawn his own lips chastely over his companion’s not just once when he thought the other was sleeping too deeply to notice.

Those thoughts no longer brought him comfort.

“When you had not touched me yet...”

Geralt recalled in the gauzy haze between sleep and wake how he had been the recipient of Jaskier’s affections. Witchers were, by nature, extremely light sleepers and as such Geralt had been aware every time that Jaskier had chosen to bestow upon him a light kiss. It was never more than a soft press of lips, and Geralt never dared move or give any indication that he was conscious of what happened, lest Jaskier would wise up and stop permitting himself the indulgence.

Geralt had long avoided thinking of why he never spoke or acknowledged the action, thereby through his own inaction encouraging its continuation. Deep down he supposed he enjoyed it on some level. Acknowledging it would take away the only pure affection Geralt would allow himself receive, because he was not supposed to know about it. Now, as the potion pulled Geralt deeper into a healing slumber, he longed for the gentle press of lips to his own, and cursed himself both for the longing and for never pressing to see what other affections he may have received.

“Take me back to the night we met.”

For the first time in a long time Geralt allowed himself to seek a room at the inn. It was supposed to rain overnight and he reasoned that Roach deserved a dry stable to sleep in for all the trouble he had put her through lately. It was already well enough into the evening by the time he staggered inside, and Geralt was hardly willing to invest any unnecessary attention in the other patrons of the inn and ale house. He hardly registered that someone was singing until his ear caught the sound of it better through the general din of the crowd.

“I had all and then most of you, some and now none of you”

Geralt felt his feet stop short at the words. His body turned without his consent and he listened closer to the song to be certain he was not being tricked or deceived.

“Take me back to the night we met”

There Jaskier practically moaned on a stool as he sang his latest hit. His eyes morosely scanned the patrons of the bar, looking perhaps for any kindred spirits of heartbreak and loneliness. There he found one with particularly rapt attention. A spectre from his past that Jaskier anticipated never to see again.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do, haunted by the ghost of you”

Geralt felt his sad blue eyes from across the room. He was positive the bard had to feel the intensity of his own golden eyes taking him in. Time felt as if it were suspended, caught in those teary eyes, and the next words felt as if they were merely whispered.

“Take me back...”

#the witcher #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #jaskier #geralt of rivia #fic #first new thing I’ve written in a while #I’ve listened to this song so many times #but all of a sudden it just made sense #I wrote this so fast lol #posting to ao3 tomorrow

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professional-bts-simp · 4 years ago

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Broken

Jeon Jungkook x Reader

Summary: The aftermath of your boyfriend’s betrayal.

Genre: Angst

Warning: Possibly sad

Part 2 of 3

Other parts: part 1

A/N: The angst ending of ‘Saying Goodbye’.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You didn't know what felt worse, the way Jungkook ripped your heart out or how your best friend wasn't answering his phone. You suppose Jungkook ripping your heart out broke you, but Taehyung not answering finished you off. You thought he'd at least care enough for you after witnessing for himself what your now ex boyfriend said and did.

You couldn't stop the tears rolling or the pathetic, loud wails escaping you every time you took a breath. You leaned against your sofa, moving from kneeling to sitting on the floor. Pulling your knees to your chest you buried your head in them, body shaking with cries. You have no idea how long you sat there, maybe a few minutes, maybe a free hours. You grabbed your phone calling Taehyung one more time, hoping you'd have better luck yet to no avail.

You got up from your sitting spot stumbling a little at the dizziness you felt in your head. Forcing yourself to walk to your bedroom you close the door behind you, walking up to your bed you remove the blanket before getting in, covering your body and crying yourself to sleep.

The next day wasn't any better for you. You tried getting up from bed which proved to be an impossible task, but somehow you formed energy to force your body to get up, walking to the bathroom to do your routine. Walking back to your bed like a zombie you flop down on it, burying your head in the pillows. A ding caught your attention and you took your phone, seeing a text from Tae that filled you with a little bit of hope.

[Tae👌��]: Eat

A one word text. You almost scoffed at it, knowing that you both used to send essay long texts to each other, but you were kind of glad he at least sent you something, it felt like he wasn't ignoring you as much as you convinced yourself he was.

Eating turned out to be a complete bust. You weren't even able to finish your sandwich, it making you feel nausea and your stomach to hurt. Leaving the half eaten sandwich on the table you sluggishly walk back to the bedroom, wanting nothing more but to be suffocated among your pillows and blankets falling back into slumber.

Sleeping was another thing that seemed to avoid you, waking up every hour or so, unable to sleep from overthinking and the dreams, or more nightmares, you had. You finally decided to stay up after waking up for the third time, your phone saying it was four in the morning. You tried watching some of your favourite YouTube videos but they did nothing to lift your spirit or your mood, you only watched the screen with a stoic expression.

You put your phone down, getting your earphones and putting on the saddest songs you could find on YouTube, laying on your back staring at the ceiling for a few hours crying and feeling the tears roll down your cheeks to your neck. The sound of your phone going off distracted you from your self deprecating, wincing the moment you heard Jungkook's voice sing, having Euphoria as your ringtone. You pick up your phone seeing Taehyung's name across the screen. You reluctantly answer, heart rate speeding up immediately, hearing Tae's voice at the other end and how it sounded so small and frightened.

"Hey (y/n), how are you?"

You scoff loudly into the phone wiping the tears with the sleeve of the hoodie you've been wearing for the past two days, Jungkook's hoodie might you add. You don't know why there is an awkwardness when he speaks, you usually fell easy into a conversation, feeling comfortable with each other. You suppose dating then getting dumped by one of his members would cause awkwardness between you.

"Not good Taehyung. My whole world is crashing down," you play with the sleeve of the hoodie, nerves high, "could you maybe come over?" You hate how nervous you feel asking Taehyung to come over, but you just couldn't be alone anymore.

He was quiet for several seconds before he spoke again, "I don't think that's a good idea (y/n)." You couldn't describe the wrenching gut feeling you had, but you were sure it wasn't a good one.

"Wh-why not?"

Taehyung took a shaky breath, almost as if he were scared to tell you what's next, "The company doesn't think we should see each other for a while." And suddenly you understood why he was scared to tell you.

A new batch of tears welled up in your eyes, falling faster and faster down your already wet face. You couldn't believe what you were hearing, you lost your boyfriend and now you're going to lose your best friend. This had to be the worst week of your life. Taking a deep breath you steady your phone in your hands, determined not to let Taehyung slip past your fingers like Jungkook did.

"No."

There was a short silence on his end before he spoke again, "What do you mean 'no'? (y/n) this isn't something to debate over."

"I'm not letting you leave me. I can't handle that too." Your voice was a ghost of a whisper but Tae heard it, he heard it loud and clear and hated himself he had to put you through this, alone.

He was quiet once more on the other end and for a second there you thought he might reconsider, might convince the company to at least see you once a week or something, anything. You heard a door open and close and muffled voices on the other end, but then you heard a voice you could distinctly recognise anywhere, "Hyung get off the phone we have practice soon and you know Hobi hyung will kill us if we're late."

Jungkook.

"Who are you talking to anyway?"

"I'm really sorry, cupcake, I hope you can forgive me." Was the last thing Taehyung said to you before he hurriedly ended the call. You threw your phone against the wall, shattering it, how dare he use the nickname you loved more than anything? The old childhood nickname he affectionately gave you was now being run through mud in your mind. You felt angry, you felt sad, but most of all you felt betrayed. You had no one by your side anymore. How were you ever going to get through this?

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Looking down at your phone you laughed at the new message that you got. Damn was he always this funny or did you never noticed it? Picking your coffee from the table you press it against your lips, swallowing the sweet taste of your beverage.

"(y/n)? Is that you?"

You almost choke on your drink at his voice. You look up from your phone, the tall figure standing in front of your table, a cup of what you can presume is a very sweet vanilla latte knowing he almost always got that at cafes. You hadn't seen him in about a year, maybe a few months past a year and he still looked the same. Still devilishly handsome.

"Oh my God, Jungkook hi!" You smile up at him greeting him enthusiastically. Oddly you feel okay seeing him, there's a slight pang in your chest but nothing like it was before. He seemed a little thrown off at your greeting yet you decided to brush it off.

"Um how have you been?" He clears his throat, trying to sound normal and relaxed.

"Oh I've been good, great actually, been working hard and got a promotion at work." You hear your phone ding again and look down quickly, letting out a chuckle at another text. Looking back up at Jungkook you quickly saw a dash of confusion on his face before it was replaced by curiosity.

He looked down at your phone before looking back up to your face, "That's awesome, so um, what are you doing here? I mean at the cafe." He pointed a finger at the ground to indicate what he meant. You laughed slightly at that, Jungkook was always a dork. "I actually have a date today so I went here to wait for him." You nodded a few times, licking your lips then smacking them together.

Jungkook followed your action of head nods, his tongue sticking out against his cheek.

"Also I'm sorry to hear what happened with you and Jisoo." You offered him a comforting smile.

He stiffed a little, but kept his composure. "It's alright, these things happen." He looked down at his cup, far more interested in looking at it than looking at you.

"You have your date here?"

You raised an eyebrow at him, wondering why he would even ask you that, "Ah no, actually we're going to the movies," there was a doorbell chime, "and here he is now." You grabbed your purse from the other chair, waving your date over and standing up with your own cup in hand.

"R-RapMon hyung?"

"Jungkook hello. Didn't expect to see you here." Namjoon glanced from him to you, offering you that dimpled smile that gave you all sorts of butterflies. You linked your arm under his, moving closer into his touch while Jungkook still looked puzzled.

"When did this happen?" He swallowed hard, almost as the words physically hurt him to say.

Namjoon and you chuckled at the shared memory, "Well we met in a cafe much like this, half a year after you two…." Namjoon stopped, knowing it was a sore subject, for both of you probably. You started filling in after him, "And after that we just got to talking and hanging out and we clicked." You look up at the taller man, standing on your toes to kiss his cheek lightly, not noticing how Jungkook's face twisted into one of sorrow and pain.

You both excused yourselves, wanting to get to the theater as fast as possible to get good seats. When you and Namjoon left the cafe, Jungkook still stood there, looking at the glass door with a broken expression on his face and a broken heart. Now he understood how you felt a year ago.

Broken.

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grailfinders · 4 years ago

Text

Fate and Phantasms #44: The Phantom of the Opera

Today on Fate and Phantasms, we’re starting with the Man in the Mirror, a.k.a. the Phantom of The Opera! The role of the phantom will tonight be played by a Phantom Rogue/Whispers Bard mix with some dramatic cantrips and plenty of psychic damage to keep him inside your mind.

You can check out the level-by-level breakdown below the cut, or the summary spreadsheet. Either way, enjoy the show.

Race and Background

He may be the Angel of Music, but he’s definitely not an Aasimar. I mean, probably? The DnD universe has a lot more sentient races than ours, you can get funky with it if you want; maybe a siren? But for canon’s sake, he’s clearly a Human, giving him +1 to all stats. He’s also a Hermit, but we’re going to change it up a bit from the usual. He lived alone, yes, but under and Opera House, so he’ll be proficient in Performance and Religion instead. He also might get a terrible secret of the multiverse if you want to talk to your DM about it. Why the multiverse always gives its secrets to dangerously unstable people, I don’t know. But maybe you do!

Stats

If you’re using the standard array like we are, put your highest score in Charisma; you’re a good enough singer to tutor professionals despite never being taught yourself, so that’s all raw talent. You were also able to build a concerning number of secret passages into an opera house without anyone noticing, so your Intelligence is probably pretty high as well. You’re clearly not powerfully build, but can handle yourself pretty well in a fight: all signs point to your Dexterity being next. Your Constitution and Strength are decent enough; I’d even consider them pretty high considering you’ve spent an indeterminable amount of time living in a sewer maze. Finally, dump Wisdom. The phrases “Mental Pollution” and “High Wisdom” do not go together.

Class Levels

1. Rogue 1: We’re starting off as a rogue, they get relevant proficiencies and lots of them, and you’ll need a lot to fuel all the expertise you’re getting. Specifically, you’re proficient in Dexterity and Intelligence saves and four rogue skills. Acrobatics and Stealth will help you worm your way through secret passages without getting caught. Your powers of Persuasion can convince people that you’re some kind of angel (though that might just be grooming), and when that falls through you always have Intimidation as well.

At first level, you double your proficiency in two skills thanks to your Expertise. We’ll start with your Performance and Stealth: you have the most beautiful voice in the world, and are weirdly good at creeping through old opera houses without creaking any floorboards. You can add more damage to your attacks with a Sneak Attack, and you know Thieves’ Cant, a secret language of rogues. Nobody understands what happens in operas anyway, so it’ll be easy to slip some hidden messages in.

As far as weapons go, dual-wielding daggers are probably your best bet as stand-ins for your claw hands. It will also use up your bonus action, but having a back-up attack is always useful.

2. Rogue 2: Vanishing from the scene becomes much easier with your Cunning Action, allowing you to dodge, disengage or hide as a bonus action. Disappearing in the nick of time is kind of your thing, and this will make it much easier.

3. Rogue 3: Third level rogues get a sneak attack boost as well as their archetype, and yours is the appropriately named Phantom archetype from Tasha’s Cauldron. When you take this archetype, you gain Wails from the Grave, meaning the dramatic music stings that accompany your attacks can actually do damage now. When you attack someone with your sneak attack, you can deal half your sneak attack dice in psychic damage to another creature nearby. You can use this a number of times equal to your proficiency bonus per long rest. You also can hear Whispers of the Dead, giving you proficiency in one skill of your choice that you can swap out each short rest. Erik’s a multitalented man, but being proficient in every skill takes up way more ASIs than we have, so this is a happy medium.

4. Bard 1: Bard pull people under their sway with the power of music, and that’s literally your entire MO, so this is a no-brainer. At first level, you get a free skill of your choice. Operas cover a lot of subjects, but I think History is the most consistent. Sure, it’s fictionalized history, but you’re fictional too, so it all works out.

First level bards gain Spellcasting using charisma as your casting stat, as well as some Bardic Inspiration dice, a couple D6 you can throw at people to encourage their best performances.

For spells, grab Prestidigitation and Minor Illusion for some stage magic, Charm Person and Unearthly Chorus to charm your way out of any situation, and Dissonant Whispers and Puppet to really worm your way into people’s minds.

5. Bard 2: You’re now a Jack of All Trades, adding half your proficiency to any check you’re not already proficient with. Seriously, Erik’s a stage magician, skilled architect, and a world class singer, all while being shunned by polite society. How does he do it?

You also learn a Song of Rest, letting you ease your party’s worries during short rests with your skillful performance. I’d think hearing the phantom sing would put someone even more on edge, but that’s why I’m not a dnd character.

For your spell, grab Feather Fall. It’s great for when you need to jump off a balcony to escape, or if you forget about the time limit on a late-game feature.

6. Bard 3: Being a bard also gives you some Expertise, this time enhance your Persuasion and Intimidation to perfect your “people skills”. You also graduate from the College of Whispers at this level, giving you a couple extra features as well.

Psychic Blades lets you burn through inspiration dice to add 2d6 Psychic Damage to your attack once per round. You also learn Words of Terror, so if you talk to someone for a while you can try and make them afraid of you or someone else for up to an hour. That can be done once per short rest.

Grab Suggestion to politely remind people why they always do all you ask of them.

7. Rogue 4: Use your first ASI to increase your dexterity for more AC and more stabbage.

8. Rogue 5: Your sneak attack is boosted to 3d6, and you gain an Uncanny Dodge, letting you react to avoid half the damage from an attack. Sometimes your flair for the dramatic means escapes aren’t quite as easy as they should be. This will help you avoid dying while still being the center of attention.

9. Rogue 6: Your third round of expertise will help you remember more about the subjects of operas you’ve watched, doubling your proficiency in History and Religion.

10. Rogue 7: Seventh level rogues get another sneak attack bonus, and they learn about Evasion, meaning dexterity based attacks deal a lot less damage to you. I don’t know exactly what kind of save a falling chandelier requires, but dexterity is a pretty safe bet.

11. Rogue 8: For your next ASI, we’re taking the Dual Wielder feat. This gives you a bit of extra AC and you can trade up for larger claws for some extra damage. If you really want to powergame though, you could switch this out for the mobile feat instead, as we’ll be getting a feature later on that makes ignoring difficult terrain very useful.

12. Rogue 9: Ninth level rogues get another sneak attack bonus, bringing you up to 5d6. Ninth level phantoms learn how to make Tokens of the Departed. You can react when a creature dies within 30′ of you to turn part of their soul into a random trinket from the trinket table. While you have at least one trinket on your person, you have advantage on death and constitution saves. You can only keep a small number on you, and can destroy a trinket to ask the dead one question. You can also destroy a trinket to use Wails from the Grave for free. Admittedly this has very little to do with being the phantom of the opera, but the advantage is really nice if you’re trying to keep someone charmed while in combat, and we’ll get a better use for the trinkets later.

13. Bard 4: Back in bardsville, you’ve got another ASI waiting for you. Boost your Charisma for more powerful spells and more uses of your Psychic Blades and inspiration.

For spells, pick up Vicious Mockery for even more psychic damage, and Blindness/Deafness to make tracking you down even harder via a quick blast of organ playing.

14. Bard 5: With our last level in bard, your inspiration dice increase to a d8, and your psychic blades now add 3d6 damage to attacks. You also become a Font of Inspiration, regaining inspiration uses on short rests rather than long ones.

For your last spell, grab Fear. This hardly should even count as magic for you, you just have that kind of effect on people.

15. Rogue 10: Switching back to rogue, you get one more ASI, which we’re putting into Dexterity. You hit harder and are harder to hit, what’s not to love?

16. Rogue 11: Your sneak attack goes up again, and you now have Reliable Talent. This means any skill check you make that you’re proficient in will always have a roll of at least 10. Basically, whatever you’re good at, you’re really good. And you’re good at whatever you need to be, which is great for you.

17. Rogue 12: With your last ASI, we’re maxing your Charisma. Maximizing dexterity would be nice, but we only have so much space and the extra inspiration is too useful to pass up. Don’t worry though, we’ll get something to guarantee our attacks hit in two levels.

18. Rogue 13: You know the drill: sneak attack goes up to 7d6, and you get your last Phantom ability. Ghost Walk lets you turn into, let’s say a “specter”, for ten minutes as a bonus action. You gain 10′ of flying speed and can hover in midair, attacks against you are made with disadvantage, and you can move through objects as difficult terrain. If you stay inside an object at the end of your turn though, you take 1d10 force damage. Honestly though, that’s a lot less damage than anything else that’s happening at 18th level. Why would you stay outside? There’s fighters out there. You can use this feature once per long rest, or by burning a soul trinket for this feature. I know that all the ghostly things you do in the musical are thanks to secret passages in your opera house, but most adventures don’t take place in your opera house. This is a good way to still dramatically pop out of mirrors without needing several years of prep time and a zoning permit.

One important thing to note: There’s no rules regarding what happens if you become tangible inside a wall, so try not to find out.

19. Rogue 14: You now gain a Blindsense, making you aware of hidden creatures within 10′ of you as long as you can hear. This combined with Ghost Walk means you’re now the master of the ambush. Why bother being in a fight when you can just stick your hands out of the floorboards and remove someone’s ankles? This gives you advantage on your attack because your opponent can’t see you, and makes you immune to any counterattacks unless they feel like tearing up the entire dungeon around them.

20. Rogue 15: With your capstone level, your sneak attack becomes an extra 8d6, and your fraying sanity becomes so obtuse it goes right back around to being good. Your Slippery Mind gives you proficiency in wisdom saves, making you harder to charm and fool with illusions.

Pros: A majority of your saves are pretty good, with only strength really being a weakness thanks to your features covering your constitution and wisdom saves. The only thing with a wider range than your save proficiencies is your skill proficiencies: anything you’re good at, you’re really good at. Anything you’re not good at, you’re still pretty good at. And Whispers of the Grave can even give you tool proficiencies. Your party needs a boat captain? You’ve watched Riders to the Sea once, it’ll probably be fine. Finally, specializing in one type of damage is usually a bad idea. Unless it’s psychic damage, in which case it’s generally a great idea. Very few creatures resist or are immune to it, and it’s pretty easy to argue that it’s magical damage.

Cons: Outside of Wails from the Grave and one or two bard spells, you don’t have many ranged attacks. Also, the psychic damage effects from your Psychic Blades are a significant part of your damage early on, and they eat into your inspiration stores very quickly until you get Font of Inspiration. Finally, we weren’t able to pick up War Caster in this build, so trying to dual wield your claws and cast spells at the same time might be a bit cumbersome, depending on your DM.

Next up: ...Sorry, I got distracted. What were we talking about?

#fate grand order #fgo #fate and phantasms #dnd 5e #the Phantom of the Opera

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wonderwomanfantasy · 5 years ago

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Lullaby for a ghost

idk what it is but this request possessed me (pun intended)

Tokoyami x reader

word count: 1,000(about)

warnings: none

summary: ghosts, pretty strangers, and a cemetery? sounds like the perfect night.

Tokoyami didn’t mind living next to a cemetery. His was the only house on the block which also suited him just fine. it was a nice house, suiting for a hero such as himself and the relative isolation let Dark Shadow could stretch as much as he liked.

They had practically given this house away when he bought it, it was the only reason a broke University student like himself could afford such a place. The old owners were nice people if not eager. He was sure something must be wrong with the house, there was no other reason for it and he soon got his answer.

The wife pulled him aside one day her eyes wide, frightened. “I have to tell you before you decided to buy this place, it would be wrong if I didn’t.” She muttered

“The cemetery, it’s haunted, you can hear the ghosts in the night,” She warned. Tokoyami was sure that the cemetery was haunted, most were but normally the spirits that lingered weren’t strong enough to affect this world. this was intriguing

“not every night, but most nights there you can hear singing, it’s maddening,” she warned. but it only solidified his interest in the house. a Spirit, and one strong enough to sing, he would have to see it for himself.

He had, of course, neither heard nor seen anything paranormal in his mouths living in the house or wandering through the supposedly haunted cemetery.

Still, he believed what the woman had said to him, besides, he mostly worked the night shifts and was only home during the day, and she had said the singing was only at nights.

But tonight was different. tonight he was home instead of fighting villains. He supposed he could sleep like the rest of the work but his nocturnal lifestyle was one that was hard to break. he watched the sunset over the shaggy trees and headstones that made up his backyard. “revelry in the dark,” he muttered to himself, before sighing, and moving from the window, he had laundry to do.

there was silence in the night. the Ku-thunk Ku-thunk of his washing machine as it pounded away and little else. He tried to focus on what other noises he could hear, the rustle of leaves as the wind blew, creaks of floorboards as the house settled, the call of a bird or some other animal.

a Sharp, Clear voice cut through the tranquility. Tokoyami jolted. when he thought of “singing that wouldn’t let you sleep,” he had imagined banshee wailings. not this. this was beautiful melodic, a sirens song. the kind of music that was too breathtaking to be slept through. he went to the window and threw it open training to hear the song as it drifted further away from him, deeper into the cemetery. a sirens song, he thought again before putting on his shoes and venturing into the night. He had to see where it was coming from he had to know.

He scanned for a source of the singing while trying his best not to trip over any of the headstones or uneven pavement. He was close enough to make out the lyrics that accompanied the melody he had heard. and he recognized it

“You're not a voice, you're just a ringing in my ear And if I heard you, which I don't, I'm spoken for I fear Everyone I've ever loved is here within these walls”

was that Frozen? while he was wondering if ghosts could wander far enough to go to movie theaters he almost fell on top of you.

you screamed wich made him scream which made you jump back. one thing was obvious, you were not a ghost, you were alive and human which was a little disappointing.

“what the fuck are you doing here??” you demanded still clearly more scared then angry

“what are you doing here? Who sings in the middle of the night in a cemetery?” he shouted. you got to your feet and glared. you jabbed your finger at two of the graves.

“Because they like it you Dick,” you shouted. he looked at the graves. Mr. and Mrs. Yamagugi his heart sank. were they your parents? Suddenly he felt horrible, who was he to police how people mourned.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” he muttered. then you laughed.

“Oh, they aren’ my parents if that's what you were thinking. But no one visits them and they like it when I sing,” you explained sitting back down in the grass.

“What are you doing here anyway?” you asked the defensiveness gone from your voice.

“I live in the house on the hill, I heard you singing,” he said sitting down cautiously next to you. you went pink

“then I should be the one apologizing. I didn’t think anyone lived there,” you muttered sheepishly.

“It’s fine I don’t sleep much at night,” he admitted. your gaze was far off, He didn’t want to leave even though he had gotten his answer.

“Can you see them?” you whispered nodding to the spot above the headstones.

“no,” he said,

“do you want to?”

“yes,”

you took his hand and laced your fingers through his and suddenly he could see what you were talking about. two whispy smoke like figures hovered above the graves. they looked like puffs of breath on a cold day, but instinctually he could tell they were the spirits you were singing too. you started singing again. the whisps seemed to glow brighter like they really were happy.

that's where Tokoyami found himself, sitting in a graveyard holding hands with a siren

#tokoyami x reader #imagine tokoyami #bnha tokoyami #tokoyami fumikage #tokoyami fumikage x reader #fumikage x reader #my hero academia #my hero acadamy #my hero academia imagine #my hero academia head cannon

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jimlingss · 5 years ago

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The Colour of Our Voices [10]

Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 10.5 OR Chapter 11

➜ Words: 4.8k

➜ Genres: 98% Fluff, 2% Angst, Slice of Life, Broadway!AU

➜ Summary: He wasn’t supposed to hear. He wasn't supposed to know. But the instant Jimin came into your life and pulled the curtains back, you couldn't hide backstage anymore. You were no longer merely a phantom of the opera.

➜ Warning: Spoilers to the musical Les Mis.

cr.

You show up in sweats. If you could, you’d take a swig of the rosette right about now. But you’ve long run out and decided not to buy more after the other day’s embarrassing stunt at Jimin’s doorstep. You still cringe when you think about it. So instead, you eat chocolate. You gnaw on the king sized bar like it’s Halloween and you’re indulging in the post-trick-or-treat spirit. Your hair is also unwashed, a spectacular three day record now. It’s itchy at some parts and when you scratch, white fluff comes dusting from your scalp. You haven’t showered in general for a while. There’s no point, really. Not when you don’t have any arrangements, responsibilities, no job to go to. The unemployed life isn’t actually a bad one — as long as you don’t think about the inevitable doom of your bank account and having to go into debt to pay off bills. Your life sort of feels like that picture of that dog that’s sipping on coffee while thinking ‘this is fine’ and the room is on fire. But what can you do? “Is she…” “...yeah…” “....it’s true then?” There are whispers that you’re not unaccustomed to, stares behind your back that you can feel and sense in your peripheral vision. “...the ghost singer…” You turn around to look and the girls immediately seal their lips, looking away. They pretend to be discussing other things, but still, you hear it all around you. “So is she really the Phantom? How is that possible?” “Don’t ask me.” “Do you think she can really sing?” “Probably not. She’s only here because it would bring in publicity. We all know that.” Your efforts are fruitless. They’re right. You’re not going to get a role. You’re only here to satisfy people’s curiosity. “L/N Y/N?” The girl reads off her list. “Is there a L/N Y/N here?” Fuck it. What do you have to lose? You’ve lost it all anyways. “Here!” You raise your hand, voice loud and clear. The murmuring of the girls cease once they confirm that it is you. But you pay them any mind, finishing the chocolate bar in the awkward silence. You chew your mouthful and smear your stained hand on your grey sweatpants, leaving a streak of brown on your thigh. You toss the wrapper in the garbage. “Uh...right this way,” the girl says as she gestures past the curtain. Many auditions take place in closed off rooms, but it’s an open stage this time. A modest size with the pianist tucked in the corner. There are five people sitting before the front row, a panel of them — some producers, directors, writers — you don’t know and you don’t care much for their titles either. It feels like you’re on some TV show, ready for their judgment. Your nose runs with snot and you wipe it away with the back of your hand. “Hi.” “You’re L/N Y/N?” There’s a shuffle of papers, people peering up at you past their glasses. “Yes.” You swallow the last bit of chocolate in your mouth, clearing your throat. You hope your teeth aren’t stained. Well….if they are, it wouldn’t be the biggest deal. “You worked at the Phantom of the Opera production?” You should probably head to the supermarket after this and get some ice-cream. You’d definitely feel better with it, curled on your couch with a warm blanket and some television to drown out the silence of your apartment. “Y/N?” The call of your name has you focusing again. “Pardon?” The woman is dressed cleanly in a blazer with her hair pulled back into a bun like yours. But hers is undoubtedly neater, probably holding a bunch of pins, maybe even hair-sprayed. Yours was bunched up carelessly with a stretched elastic you found on the floor of your closet. “You worked at the Phantom production?” she repeats. You give her a bland answer, but one that’s unfortunately the entire truth. “As an intern.” One of them pipes up, “Can you tell us any details about your previous work at the Phantom production?” “I did coffee runs.” “Umm….” The younger female in the middle gestures with her hand. “Did you do anything else?” “I swept the floor. I did a lot of paperwork and printed things out for the director there,” you list out and shrug. “I don’t know. Things like that.” They exchange looks with one another, probably not expecting such a boring response. “Did you...contribute to the performance in any way?” Your eyes dim. Of course — this is what they wanted to know all along. It’s the reason you’re here in the first place. But they shouldn’t have beaten around the bush. If they asked over the phone, you would’ve told them. They didn’t need to waste their time like this. But unfortunately, the honest truth isn’t as glamorous as they think it is. “The actor couldn’t sing, so I did. Behind the curtain.” “And how did that come about?” someone asks with a frown, and you can see the girls peeking out from the curtain to your left, listening in. “They needed someone,” you deadpan. “I volunteered.” “Well...alright then.” He clears his throat and the others shift uncomfortably in their seats. You wonder what it is that they wanted to hear from you, what kind of gossip they were anticipating. “What are you singing for us today?” “Do you have a preference?” “Uh…” They look at one another and some shake their heads. “No, not really.” You approach the pianist with a sigh. You didn’t prepare, but after countless auditions, you know all the basic audition pieces inside out. Every lyric is embedded into your mind. Pathetically enough. But they’re all the same — they gave you the same outcome of failure. “Do you have any sheet music?” The pianist blinks at you and timidly points to the top of the upright piano. “You can look in the binder.” You flip it open and grab for the first paper-clipped set, passing it to him. “Here.” Then you step up to the middle of the stage again, cueing the pianist with a lifeless hand and the notes start, light and optimistic much to your displeasure. Usually, you’d begin to feel your palms become clammy. But instead, your fingertips are sticky from melted chocolate. “There’s been a change in me.” Your voice draws from your chest hastily without much care. “A kind of moving on.” Typically, your heart would be pumping fast to the point where you could feel it all the way in your throat. Your mouth would go dry. A cold sweat would wash down your body. But you don’t feel any of these things. “Though what I used to be, I still depend upon.” Your knees don’t quake. You don’t need to hide any tremors in your hands. It’s not a real audition after all. This is a joke. And if anything, you feel pissed. No matter where you go, you’re strung along by people for their own entertainment. “For now I realize. That good can come from bad.” It’s supposed to be a touching song sung by Belle in Beauty and the Beast. It’s supposed to be gentle. Hopeful. But every word is filled with your aggression. It’s hostile and indignant. You’re exhausted at being humiliated and you wail out the lyrics in grief. It tears from your throat. If they wanted to hear you sing, they were going to hear alright. “That may not make me wise. But fuck,” you ad lib, “it makes me glad.” “And I—” you belt the note in a kind of bitterness reserved for a resentful villain, and a kind of sadness bleeds into it. It’s not at all like a kind protagonist that’s meant to be a delicate princess. Your voice even warbles against your will, cracks at the top, but you don’t care. You embrace it. “I never thought I’d leave behind my childhood dreams. But I don’t mind.” You look off to the top of the stairs in the small auditorium. You’re reminded of how you once sang on a stage like this, how a brunette boy appeared from thin air and began clapping for you. “For now I love the world I see.” You shut your eyes to savour the memory. “No change of heart, a change in me.” You stop. The piano slows and ends. It goes completely silent. One of the men open their mouth and then closes it. “Um….” You spare them from having to sugar coat it and tell you how awful you are. “Thanks for the opportunity.” You step off the stage, grab your bag, and brush past the crowd of males and females preparing to audition. They all stare at you — but for reasons you’re wrong about. Though you don’t dwell long enough to find that their expressions aren’t of detest. You hop down the stairs and take the emergency exit out. // You don’t know where to begin with your belongings. For one, you’re going to need cardboard boxes bigger than those containing your instant noodles. If you’re going to go home, you need to pack up your furniture somehow. But in the meantime, you haul out your dusty luggage from the back of your closet. You kick the busted wheel to roll it a few meters before hurling it on your bed with a sigh. You’re not sure what clothes to leave behind and which to take with you. The mattress dips underneath your added weight and you look over to the hanging dresses that you never go to wear, blazers and pencil skirts that are unwrinkled and were only pulled out for the occasional audition…. You stand on your feet after a prolonged moment, not yet feeling the urge to dump all the hangers onto your bed and fold up the clothes into neat squares. Instead, you put it off by heading to the kitchen for more ice-cream. But as you grab for a spoon, you pass by that counter. The one with the abandoned ticket pushed to the side. It catches your eye and you’re suspended in your spot, feet rooted to the ground. You almost forgot — it’s tonight. You hold the ticket up to the light. It’s a dark blue with a streak of red, a young girl on it facing the horizon. Les Misérables, a front mezzanine middle row seat. It wouldn’t hurt to do one more thing before you begin packing to go home… Right? // You’re startled when the bell at the top of the door jingles to signal your entrance. “Welcome to the Bloom Room!” A female in a green apron turns around with a bouquet of flowers and shears in the other hand. All around her are fancy floral arrangements, from wreaths to overflowing vases. The fresh scent overwhelms your senses, vibrant hues that render you even more uncertain. “How may I help you?” “Umm..” She smiles softly at you. “What kind of flowers are you looking for? Anything specific at all?” You glance at the surroundings, still unsure. Maybe you should get something that’ll convey how sorry you are, for showing up drunk at his doorstep, for saying all those mean things to him. Something that’ll make amends, to tell him you really miss him, his presence, friendship. You should get something that’ll communicate how thankful you are for him — for always being there even when you pushed him away, for always supporting you, for being your backbone when you needed it. “Just….something nice, please,” you end up telling her with a modest smile. “Certainly.” She leads the way, through the shelves and cases of flowers and bouquets. The florist glances at you, sincere in her gaze. “What’s the special occasion?” “Oh no, there’s not a special occasion.” You shake your head and your hands, and the volume of your voice quiets as you try to explain. “Well, not really. I’m just bringing it with me to a show tonight. Someone I know is performing for the first time on stage.” “How exciting! What’s your relationship with this person?” She stops at a station that has jars filled with single flowers, an array of brown paper and ribbons on the side. “Friends? Family member? Boyfriend or girlfriend?” “Umm…..” You don’t know why it’s taking you so long to think about it. “Friends…?” And you certainly don’t know why there’s a hint of doubt in your voice either. The florist’s pupils flicker up to you, a hint of a knowing smile gracing her features. “How about peonies? They’re very delicate and I think it’ll be perfect to bring with you to a show. Seven of them and some baby’s breath and lilacs.” “That sounds nice.” You nod and she begins to choose them. But you wonder if it’s strange to bring flowers to him. You clear your throat. “Is it…” The woman turns to look at you. “Is it weird to give flowers to a guy?” “Not at all,” she assures you. “Trust me, everyone loves to get flowers.” “Do you…..think I should deliver it or give it to him?” You’re unsure of what protocol is. You’ve never bought flowers for anyone before. “Oh, you should give it to him,” she tells you without a trace of doubt. “That’s just me, but I think it’s much more personal to hand-deliver.” You nod and there’s a moment of quiet before you remember something. It flickers into your mind, a memory hitting you in the face. And your eyes light up. “C-Can I get them in purple?” // The show starts at seven thirty, so you arrive twenty minutes beforehand. Your ticket gets scanned and you shuffle into the auditorium. There are lots of people, a sea of glamour, couples going on dates to musical fanatics eager to watch their favourite theater performance to critics ready to analyze the show. You tug on your little black number that ends at your knees — it’s modest and simple, but one of the many dresses that you never got to wear. But there's not a lot of time to be self-conscious or to second guess yourself. The people are a tide that rushes in, and you’re overwhelmed, pushed forward by their force and unable to escape. The theater is grand, brightly lit with the red curtains pulled down. You find your seat and hug the small bouquet of flowers in your lap. When the show finally begins, the lights dim down completely and it’s glorious. Music begins to play, thundering through the auditorium, and men march onto the stage holding sledgehammers. “Look down, look down. Don't look 'em in the eye.” Your eyes search for Jimin, but he’s not here. If you remember the details of his role correctly, you have a feeling he won’t show up for a while. So you sit back and try to relax and watch. But the anticipation and excitement of seeing him keeps you on alert. Any time there are characters entering the stage, your eyes always scan across. It’s not until an hour later that you finally see the familiar boy at the very corner of the scene, catching the edges of the spotlight. Immediately, a smile tugs into your cheeks. Jimin’s singing with the others, wearing a long brown coat with disoriented hair. He plays the part of a young man from a rich family well. You can practically see the fire in his eyes. “Look down and show some mercy if you can! Look down, look down, upon your fellow man!” The song is similar to an anthem, riling up the crowd for a revolution. “It'll come, it'll come, it'll come... It'll come, it'll come, it'll come…” Jimin doesn’t have a main role, but he’s still on the stage of Broadway, singing with many others. You’re happy to see him, elated that you know the boy that’s actually performing, and you have to hold back from giving a sudden standing ovation. “Before the barricades arise?” The crowd breaks up as the police enter the stage and just like that he disappears again. But ten minutes later, it’s his time to shine again. Jimin’s one of the nine men — the main character, Marius, and the supporting character, Enjolras, taking the limelight, but he’s one of the many students sitting around a table, at a supposed bar. “Red!” one of them sings. The male playing Marius faces the audience. “I feel my soul on fire!” “Black!” “My world if she's not there!” the main actor responds with vigor. “Red!” Jimin belts with others. “The colour of desire!” “Black!” he sings again, and you can pick up his voice between the timbre of others. “The colour of despair!” Jimin sings with the actors and it echoes throughout the theater. While he never sings a line by himself, you can still hear his tone ever so slightly before it melts away. “The dark of ages past! Red — a world about to dawn! Black — the night that ends at last!” His appearance is sweet albeit short. You see him one more time right before the intermission when the cast comes onto the stage and sings for the hope of the future in ‘One Day More’. Afterwards, it’s a fifteen minute break. It’s an hour and a half through the show, but the intermission allows people to relieve themselves at the restrooms or grab a drink at the bar. In your case, you stick around, grasping the bouquet. The brown paper crinkles under your grip and you peer at the curtain as if hoping he’ll run out. Instead, you catch Jimin coming out from the left door as the other people are spilling out of the auditorium. But it’s bad timing. He doesn’t come to where you are, but towards the orchestra section, right by one of the closest rows to the stage. An older woman and man stand, clapping and jumping. He runs into the woman’s arms and squeezes him. It’s his parents, and you smile before turning around to walk away, not wanting to interrupt the intimate moment with your presence. His parents must be proud. You’re happy for him. // The show continues afterwards. Jimin makes a few more cameos here and there without singing any lyrics, simply in the crowd at the barricades. Although, he does say a few lines. “See! The people unite!” — “So what are we going to do with this snake in the grass?” — “You wear an army uniform.” And when Éponine dies, he comforts Marius. “She will not die in vain…” But Jimin does sing one line by himself in the song ‘Drink With Me’. His eyes sweep across the audience floor as he steps forward, pretending to take a swig of the empty beer bottle. “Here’s to pretty girls who went to our heads!” And you swear he looks right at you. As if he had memorized where you would be seated. But Jimin looks away right after, his eyes passing your spot. You release your held breath, realizing it was your imagination. There was no way he could actually see you. The show lasts another forty minutes, filled with the spectacular performances of the leads, their beautiful voices that captivate your attention and everyone else’s. During the finale when the storyline has wrapped up, everyone comes onto the stage again. You see him one last time there. Jimin is singing, smiling wide, looking out at the audience. It could not be a better Broadway debut. You muse that he truly belongs on the stage — there’s no place else he should be. Along with the rest of the audience, you give a standing ovation. The applause roars throughout the auditorium, actors and actresses bowing and waving goodbye. When it dies down, the bright lights come on again. People begin trickling out and you’d leave as well, if not for the bouquet of flowers you’re still holding onto. You look around. “U...Um excuse me…” You stop someone who looks like a worker and they blink at you, confused. You swallow hard and hand over the flowers. “C-Can you give this to Park Jimin? He was an actor in the production.” “Sorry.” The teenager awkwardly points to a family that’s gathering their belongings to show he’s with them and he offers a kind smile. “I don’t work here.” “O-Oh. Sorry.” You bow your head and they say it’s no problem. But you’re still cringing from embarrassment, and now you don’t know what to do, how to give it to him without having to face him. You should’ve thought about this better. But before you can contemplate any solution, you hear a sudden— “Y/N?!” Jimin’s sweaty. Like he sprinted here as fast as he could the second the curtains fell. His parents are nowhere in sight, probably in the lobby, but he's here with you. Still in costume. The nineteenth century french clothing — blue trench coat, puffy white shirt underneath, brown slacks. His hair is riled up with what looks like soot pressed to his cheeks, makeup of some sort that makes him appear even more disoriented and soiled. But he doesn’t care. You don’t either. His chest rises and falls as he tries to catch his breath. The two of you stare at each other, pupils locked into one another’s, holding the other’s attention. Captivated. Then after a beat, the biggest and goofiest grin spreads into his face. It’s enormous, causing his eyes to crinkle into half-moons. “You came! You...actually came!” “Y-Yeah…” You’re stunned and you tear your eyes away, the intensity becoming too much for you to handle. Your arm extends. “These are for you.” “Flowers?!” He breathlessly giggles and takes them. Jimin doesn’t fail to notice that they’re all shades of purple, from lilac to violet. Because of you, purple has become his new favourite colour. “I love them. Thank you!” “C-Congratulations on your debut, Jimin.” He grins, so much that his rosy cheeks look like they’re about to burst. His teeth peek out, eyes crescent moons. “Thank you. I’m glad you could make it.” “S-Same here…..” You don’t know why he’s gazing at you so intently at you. It makes it hard to keep eye contact. “You were really amazing.” “I didn’t have that many lines,” the boy giggles, still giddy and hyperactive. It makes you smile. “But you were still good.” There’s a lot of things you’ve been wanting to tell him, a million versions of an apology that you’ve practiced in the mirror. And now that he’s here and you’re no longer staring at a reflection of yourself, you gather your courage to face your regrets. “You deserve it, Jimin. I’m...sorry for everything that I said. I’m sorry for being resentful towards you. I’m sorry for being jealous. It wasn’t your fault. And all those things I said to you, I didn’t mean it. A-at the time I did, but now I don’t...I don’t know if that makes it any better but...yeah….I just…..you were great, you worked hard, so…” It’s the shittiest apology. Worse than the first one you practiced. But you can’t get it out right. You feel nervous for the first time in Jimin’s presence. A kind of anxiousness that doesn’t make you feel sick. Rather, you feel something else in your stomach — it’s fluttery. Something uncertain brewing there, stirring at its pits. It feels similar in your chest. It isn’t a foreign sensation, but one you had ignored for a long time now. Jimin suddenly laughs, noisy and hearty. It squeaks, a higher pitched giggle. It makes you look at him, eyes hesitantly lifting off the floor. And then you yelp. Jimin picks you up right off the ground, arms locked around your waist. He spins you in a circle, squeezing ticklish laughter out of you. Your hands immediately come to grab his shoulders. The boy is unable to contain the adrenaline pumping through his veins and the overwhelming joy of you being here. “Jimin!” you squeal. He laughs. “God, I’m so happy that you’re here!” “Did you think I’d miss it?” you quip and it feels like forever since you’ve been able to joke around like this. “Not for the world, Park!” He sets you down to your feet again. His swelling smile might just break his face. He nuzzles into you, hair tickling your forehead. Jimin hugs you tight. He’s so happy, you can practically feel it radiate off of his skin. And your chest blooms with pride instead of envy. “Your Broadway debut was amazing. It only gets better from—” “Can I please kiss you?” Your heart stutters. Jimin pulls himself apart from you. The sudden question has you blinking twice. But the temptation for Jimin has gotten too much. If there’s one thing that could make tonight even more perfect, it would be him kissing you… You glance at his plush lips before your pupils flicker back to his eyes. “You don’t need to ask.” Just like that, he roughly tugs you in by the small of your back. The flowers lose a few petals from the harsh motion. But Jimin doesn’t care. He kisses you like he’s been waiting to do it for months now. He kisses you like he wants you. He’s hungry for it and savours your whimper that’s muffled between his soft lips. He’s been wanting to hear your voice like this. Jimin’s half-lidded eyes soak up your pleasured expression before he gives in, shutting them to succumb to your scent. He breathes you in and you become helpless in his arms, the pad of your fingers pressing against the nape of his neck. You’re unsure if you want to part just to gasp for air, or if you want to push him even closer. But your thoughts turn to mush as his hot tongue licks inside your mouth, eager. The pair of you don’t care that other people might be watching, that you’re placed in the middle of the auditorium, that you’ve stolen the spotlight. When the both of you break apart, you stumble back from each other, mouths swollen. You wipe away his saliva that’s made your lips shiny with the back of your hand. The both of you are dazed and embarrassed, catching your breaths, his own cheeks reddened. You divert your eyes from one another. But then infectious giggles spill over. God, you might’ve been in love with Park Jimin for a long time now.

Director Lee sits at his desk with a sigh. He shuffles his papers before sitting back in his swivel chair, unsure. Right at that moment, a blonde, lean man enters with a hot brewing cup of coffee. The assistant sets it on his desk. “Are you sure you should be taking in caffeine this late at night?” “Not like I’ll be able to sleep anyway.” He brings the cup up for a small sip. “I’m still deciding on the main cast.” “Who do you have?” “The casting director narrowed it down to these people.” He lays out the applicants of possible options and sighs. “Now I just have to decide who’s going to be part of this and who’s who. You should’ve been there today, Kim. If you weren’t late, you might be able to help me right now.” “Sorry.” Taehyung sheepishly grins. “My alarm clock didn’t ring.” The director is disgruntled, but still playful. “Same excuse every time, Kim.” Taehyung laughs, but still tries his best to assist. He scans over the applications haphazardly, but then his breath hitches. He turns his body to get a better look and his eyes grow wide, recognizing you. “Oh. What about her?” The director follows to where his assistant is pointing and hums a low note. “Oh. Her. We called her since we heard she was the ghost singer of Phantom.” “Oh yeah.” The blonde nods. “I heard about that.” “I was thinking about tossing her papers.” “Why?” Taehyung looks at his mentor, genuinely curious. “Well, her audition was….” He struggles to find the right words. “Impactful. It was really something. She stood out, that’s for sure.” “Then….?” “I just don’t know if we could find the right place for her.” He shrugs and taps his finger against the armrest of his chair. “She might outperform the other actors and actresses.” Taehyung makes a noncommittal sound at the back of his throat. “I don’t know. But I think she should be considered for a role. That’s just me, but I have a good feeling about her. You said it was impactful, right? Isn’t that what we should be going for?” Director Lee glances at his assistant, but Taehyung simply smiles and waltzes out the room.

#bts fanfic #bts scenario #jimin fanfic #jimin scenario #jimin fluff #all i'm gonna say is that I was editing this with the dumbest smile on my face #uwu y'all

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aman58 · 4 years ago

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Morty: (sobbing on his director seat immediately) UWAHHAHAHAHAHHAHA!

Morty: (wails even harder tears hit his little bro umbrella as the tears cleared up) M M MY M M MEG MEGAPHONE UHAHAHAHHAHAAHA! (Blows his nose by a tissue melts/morphs into a bucket as the tissue fell in it causing Morty to inflate then he returned to normal) T THANKS BUT IT ZE NO USE I AM NOW WHAT YOU SAY? WASHED OUT!

Morty: ZHE TRAGEDY OH HO HO HO IS ZHIS MY END IS ZHIS I MORTY DIRECTOR OF IT FINATS FILMS HOW COULD I LOSE IT? I AM A PUNY WORTHLESS MOVIE DIRECTOR ZHAT ALL EVEN ZHE GLOW FROM ZHIS BEAUTIFUL BUTTON IS NOW NOTHING BUT A DULL HUES AHHHHHHH MY BRIGHT RED MEGAPHONE WHERE ART THOU?! I WOULD GIVE ANYTHING TO BE ABLE TO HOLD MY DEAR SWEET MEGAPHONE AGAIN DO NOT LOOK AT ME I AM NOW WHAT YOU SAY HIDEOUS! (Morphs into a poorly drawn version of himself) MY ART OHHH HOW MY ART STUFFERS DO NOT SLANDER ME DIRECTOR WITHOUT APPLYING IT TO MOI ME WITHOUT MY MEGAPHONE I AM UNWORTHY OF BEING CALLED SUCH A NAME! (Turns into a sad clown toots his horn gloomy turns into a artist with a blank canvas without a brush or paint turns into a chef without a knife to cut his food morphs into a moping dog without a bag of trash to dig/eat out of) WHAT AN ARTIST WITHOUT A BRUSH HUH? A CHEF WITHOUT A KNIFE A DOG WITHOUT A BAG OF ZRASH? (Shapeshift to himself on paper being stomped on by the word rejected) NOTHING WITHOUT MY MEGAPHONE I AM NOTHING TOO NO I AM LESS ZHAN NOTHING! (Turns back to normal puts hand on face and sobs some more)

Morty: (gasps happily) HAHA! MY MEGAPHONE! ZHANK YOU VERY MUCH AH HAHAHA! (hugging it pauses looks at grabs them both) YOU TWO DEUX WAIT A SECOND HOLD IT RIGHT THERE I DID NOT NOTICE UNTIL NOW BUT YOU BOTH HAVE SOME EXCELLENT FEATURES AND YOUR BUILDS NOT BAD NOT BAD AT ALL (makes pictures poses with his fingers) AHH YES I SEE A MAKING OF A STAR YES MY CREATIVE MIND IS SHAKING OFF ZHE DUST AND IS SPRINGING BACK TO LIFE! (Puts his arms around the two) AHA I CAN SEE IT NOW WILL GO AGAINST THE RAMPAGING KAIJU GHOST AND IT ALL ENDS WITH A KISS SCENE

Morty: WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU ARE GOING PUNK?!

Morty: (as a police officer) OH HO HO HO TASK TASK I AM AFRAID I AM GOING TO HAVE TO GIVE YOU A TICKET FOR LEAVING THE FILM AND THAT INCLUDING ROMANES

Another Morty: (as George floyed) OK TELL ME WHAT IS ON YOUR MIND RIGHT NOW?

Yet another Morty: (as a medical doctor) OK NOW SAY AHHH

Yet another Morty: OK IT TIME FOR THE OLD TICKER COUGH PLEASE

Yet another Morty: WHAT THIS WELL (x rays) OH WOW HEART BEATING AS TWOMP SWEATS COMING DOWN YOUR FACE I GUESS YOU HAVE A BAD CASE OF LOVESICKNESS (song song) AND I DO NOT MEAN TO BOTHER BUT YOU ARE IN LOVE WITH THAT WOMAN IS IT (nudged him)

Morty: (snaps his decoys away and snaps back to his French accent) AHA! THERE IS MY STAR COME AND TELL HER HOW YOU FEEL RATHER THAN SHOWING IT I KNOW YOU WILL MAKE YOUR BROTHER MARIO POUD WHAT DO SAY MY FRIEND I AM NOT JUST MAKING THESE MOVIES FOR EVERYONE TO ENJOY THIS MOVIE IN PARTICULAR I WANT DJ PHANTASMAGORIA TO SEE OH HA OH! (Smithers in thoughts)

Morty: DJ PHANTASMAGORIA RESIDES ON ZHE 14th FLOOR OF THE HOTEL SHE IS A GREAT MUSICIAN RIGHT NEXT TO AMADEUS GLORIA IS MY MUSE (turns into multi violins as heart shaped notes fly off the strings) SHE HAS BEEN AMAZING THOUGH A ZHOUSAND OF VIOLINS (sighs shows a CD remix that pg has given him) SHE GAVE ME THIS TO KEEP TRACK WITH MY FILMS SHE ALSO HELPS ME WITH MY FILMS IN WITCH SHE COMPOSED AND REMIXED FOR ME BUT ENOUGH IS ENOUGH!

Morty: COME COME LETS START SHOOTING WHERE MY CREW PLACES EVERYONE TAKE YOUR PLACES AND ACTION! GREAT GREAT KEEP IT KEEP IT UP EXCELLENT WORK YOU TWO MY GUTS TELLS ME ZHIS GOING TO BE A MASTERPIECE TIME TO ACTIVATE STARDOM!

Morty: NOW ZHIS OHHH ZHIS IS ART CUE KISS SCENE

Morty: AND CUT! HEY!

Morty: HERE IS YOUR EMMY AS PROMISED (gives the ninth elevator button)

Morty: NOW I AM GOING TO EDIT ZHIS MWAH BEAUTIFUL MASTERPIECE YOU HELP CREATE!

Morty: WHAT ZHE EVIL WHOA HA HO! HELP ME! (His tail sudden gets stuck in the rolling film tape as electric sparks starts flying as a blast of static sends steward flying towards the wall as he shook it off)

(FLEE STACH BOOM!)

Morty: AHHHH RAHHHHH (the shadow on the wall detects him turning into a KAJIU turns into mortilza) MORTILZA IS ZE MORE LIKE IT (looks at live cam places on his head) RWAH COME IT STEMS ZHAT WE SHOULD GO AND HELP THEM OUT

Mortilza: ZHIS IS NO TIME TO MANGLE WITH US GHOST WITH ZHE MOST HERE OK I AM THE READY FOR BASHER KITTY COMBET

Mortilza: (nabs the evil cat by the tails and swings her by the tv feels ozzy reverts to normal) OHHHH (shakes head) QUICKLY EVERYONE HOLD HANDS WE ARE GOING LIVE!

Morty: ZHAT IS BECAUSE WE ARE IN ZHE FILM I MADE IT NOW (as a blue version of darkwing duck) LET'S GET DANGEROUS! (They chased after the cat along the way the poor Director was zapped and injured as his friends were trying their best to save him from dying)

(SKEE THUD!)

Morty: WAIT I HAVE GOT A MOTION TO STOP ZHAT PESKY CAT! (Turns into a mouse) COME ON FOLLOW ME INTO THIS LITTLE MOUSY HOLE THAT IS MOI (goes into the hole with the cat following him ) NOW FELLAS CREM HER!

Morty: I WILL STAY PUT HERE WITH MY STAGE CREW AND I WILL LET YOU KNOW WHEN ZHE FILM IS READY TO VIEW HA HA!

Morty: MY FILM IS FINALLY COMPLETE

Morty: WHAT! ZHE 14TH FLOOR (morphs into a GameCube) I AM GAME!

Morty: WHERE IS DJ PHANTASMAGORIA? (Starts shaking but stops him) ZHANKS

DJ Phantasmagloria: WHO IS THAT COMING ON MY DANCE FLOOR?

Morty: (crazy French babbling feeling all lovestruck as he melts and turns into a flower and then reverts to normal) H HI PG ZHANKS FOR THAT CD YOU GAVE ME!!!

Morty: oh yes just give moi a second (rushes out of the dance floor)

DJ Phantasmagoria: WHAT CD?

Morty: HEE HEE ZHIS ONE! (Shows pg the cd) ZHIS ONE!

Morty: NO NO SNAP OUT OF IT STOP (morphs into one of the groobs dancers) TAKE ZHIS OHHH

Morty: (crying) O O OH PLEASE PHANTASMAGORIA PLEASE FALL IN LOVE WITH ME!

Morty: (looks at the films) HEY WAIT I HAVE AN IDEA! (Puts film up) WATCH THIS!

Morty: HAHA I FINALLY DID IT! (hops on DJ Phantasmagloria lap as he smiles) I LOVE YOU SWEETHEART!

DJ Phantasmagloria: (gasps) OH MORTY I AM SO SORRY I ACTED SO BADLY IN FACT I AM ABOUT TO SING A SONG WANT TO HEAR IT?

Morty: (gasps melts on pg lap but reverts to normal) SORRY I MEAN YES!

Morty: (bawls) Z ZHAT W WAS B BEAUTIFUL (blows his nose) ZHANKS FOR EVERYTHING!

Morty: YEAH BYE!

They group left with pg following them as they went through many pages of the Luigi Mansion 3 levels

The end

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365days365movies · 4 years ago

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February 5, 2021: The Notebook (2004)(Part 1)

...Do I have to?

...The year was 2004. I was 13, my Mom was still into romance movies, and we had a Hollywood Video nearby. God, I miss Hollywood Video, you have NO idea. Anyway, I obviously didn’t watch this movie (or I wouldn’t be watching it now), but I do remember kissing in the rain...or was that just the DVD cover? Other than that, I got nothin’. Still, I like both Rachel McAdams and Ryan Gosling in other works, so I guess we’ll see.

I also can’t start this without acknowledging the fact that this is based upon a Nicholas Sparks book, and...I’m not into that. Sparks sucks, man. Sappy, overemotional, and constantly predictable folderol.

OK, Nicholas Sparks, let’s get this over with. SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Recap

We start with scenic shots of a boat rowing through a marsh, being visited by a flock of snow geese. As they fly off, an elderly woman (Gena Rowlands) looks out of a window over it. The woman is in an old-folks home, and is visited by Duke (James Garner), another resident. He’s here to read from a book, despite it not being a “good day,” according to the woman’s attendant.

The story in the book begins on June 6, 1940, at a carnival in South Carolina. There, Noah Calhoun (Ryan Gosling) sees Allie Hamilton (Rachel McAdams), and it’s infatuation at first sight. He’s a lumber yard worker, and she’s a rich heiress. He’s also EXTREMELY forward, and she’s EXTREMELY not interested. He approaches her for a dance (at a...carnival), and she says no, having literally never seen this guy before. He responds to this rejection by...butting into her date with another dude of a Ferris Wheel?

And when she once again rejects his offer for a date...he, uh...he threatens to kill himself off of the Ferris Wheel?

Um. Yeah, no. That’s a new level of manipulation. She pants him on the Ferris Wheel and humiliates him, but JESUS CHRIST, this dude is a lot. That’s compounded the next day, when he continues to pursue her, and she continues to be EXTREMELY not interested! DUDE. GET A GODDAMN CLUE HERE, she is NOT INTERESTED IN YOUR SHIT.

Is Noah the first simp? Because he’s really starting to seem like it. Anyway, Noah and his friend Fin (Kevin Connolly) basically set her up to go on a double date with Noah, and he continues to be overly forward. Maybe this is supposed to be romantic, but it definitely doesn’t feel like it to me.

We find out that Allie is a quite well-educated young woman, whose schedule is basically completely controlled by her parents, who want her to go to college as well. Noah questions why her life is so restrictive, nothing that she should be free, which she insists she is. He then lies down in the middle of the road, watching the street...lights…

Holy shit, he’s a manic pixie dream boy. HOLY SHIT HE’S A MANIC PIXIE DREAM SIMP. He does all these quirky things, and breaks the girl in the restrictive lifestyle out of said lifestyle. Even if his dumbass actions nearly get him and Allie killed. See, she lies down in the street with him, and they nearly get run over by a car. And this second near-death experience is apparently SO romantic, that Allie’s won over, and they...just dance in the middle of the street. Because Ryan Gosling has no idea where to dance, apparently.

Billie Holiday sings “I’ll Be Seeing You” in the background (which, yes, I love), and we cut back to Duke reading to the elderly woman, who correctly guesses that they fell in love. And yeah, they go head-over-heels, apparently. Which is symbolized by, just, the most graphic of PDAs over, lord.

Allie meets Noah’s father, Frank (Sam Shepard), a seemingly nice man and poetry fan (he’s a Tennyson man apparently). He asks her if she wants breakfast-for-dinner, and he’s my favorite character so far.

However, as if to set up the conflict to come, we’re reminded that this is a summer romance, and that they come from two different classes and worlds. Because of course they do, but whatever, moving on. That is when the following scene takes place.

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...Look, I’m a bird guy by trade, and even I think that was weird.

We get more glimpses of their romance, including them dancing at a gathering with...a bunch of black peopNOPE. HOLD YOUR TONGUE, 365, WAIT FOR THE REVIEW TO TALK ABOUT THAT SHIT. At the end of this montage, we meet Allie’s father, the uppity and rich John Hamilton (David Thornton), and his GLORIOUS mustache (mustache).

He invites Noah to Sunday brunch, which is being attended by...black servaHOOOOOOLD. NOT NOW 365 NOT NOW. We also meet Allie’s controlling mother, Anne Hamilton (Joan Allen). When Noah tells them how much money he makes, they immediately look down on him and his poor, poor ways. Anne reveals that Allie is headed to Sarah Lawrence, an all-girl’s school in New York. Which is, uh...NOT close.

Anne very much disapproves of her relationship with Noah, seeing him as a low-born of little consequence. Not that it matters, because the two head to a DEFINITELY HAUNTED house in the woods one night, which overlooks the marshlands. The bats from the Scooby-Doo intro fly by as the two walk in to, again, AN ABSOLUTELY HAUNTED HOUSE. This is the 1772 Windsor Plantation, home to...the Swamp Fox? Huh. Didn’t expect a crossover with the Mel Gibson movie The Patriot, but OK then.

The two talk about their house in the future, and somewhere in the house, a painting’s eyes move mysteriously. Allie plays a tune on the piano, which 1) sounds AMAZINGLY creepy, and 2) I’m pretty sure is the opening song, which is a neat touch. Guess that’s the theme for the movie, or possibly Allie’s leitmotif.

Anyway, it seems that the ghostly wails of Old Man Marion have gotten them both all hot and bothered, and they prepare to make love, right there in the old haunted house. The two undress while social distancing, then approach, significantly raising their risks of contracting COVID-19. Allie is CLEARLY very nervous, and as they attempt to begin the dirty deed, Allie can’t stop rambling about the current situation. Which is clearly putting Noah off the mood, but the two still clearly care about each other. It’s weirdly sweet, considering the fact that there’re, like, 50 ghosts watching, and God knows how many of those are slaaaaaaaAAAANYWAY

Fin suddenly bursts in, as it would appear that Allie’s parents have every policeman in town looking for her. Her parents are clearly upset, and her mother demands that Allie stops seeing Noah, whom she literally describes as “trash.” Jesus. And they aren’t exactly quiet about it, as Noah hears the entire conversation. He understandably leaves, and is also clearly disheartened by the whole situation.

When Allie catches up to him, he says he has to think about this whole thing, including the fact that she’s going to Sarah Lawrence, and he’s staying behind. And I’m not gonna lie, he’s actually being realistic about this whole thing, and she’s acting FAR less rational. She actually breaks up with him right then and there, and as she’s literally physically assaulting him, I realize that SHE is actually the psychologically unstable one, HOLY SHIT. Emotionally compromised or not, Allie goes BONKERS here.

The next day, her folks decide that they’re leaving, that very day. Allie doesn’t want to leave without making amends with Noah, and she’s regretting her actions the previous night. She goes to Fin, and tells him to tell Noah that she loves him, and that she’s sorry. Noah shows up a little too late, and goes to return the comments, but Allie’s already gone.

Noah somehow gets her address, and writes her 365 letters, one letter every day. He never gets one in response, so he gives up and moves with Fin to Atlanta. Allie’s mom is seen getting the mail, so we know EXACTLY what happened to those letters. Meanwhile, it’s now 1941, and it’s time for World War II for the USA! Fin and Noah fight with Patton’s troops, and Fin doesn’t make it.

Allie, meanwhile, is in college, and works as a Nurse’s Aide for war veterans. She sees all of them as Noah,,,which is weird because she hasn’t gotten any of his letters, so she wouldn’t know that he went to war, but whatever. One of these injured men is Lon Hammond, Jr. (James Marsden). And...aw...AWWWWWWW. Did I just type James Marsden? GODDAMN IT HE’S GONNA GET CUCKED

James Marsden seems to have only one role in movies, and that’s to be overshadowed by another dude, even though in many instances, he’s a totally fine guy. The X-Men films, Superman Returns, Enchanted, the Westworld series in a way, TELL ME I AM GODDAMN WRONG. Dude’s always in movies where he plays the love interest to a girl, and that girl is pursued by another guy, and he ALWAYS LOSES TO THAT GUY. You could argue that Cyclops in the X-Men escaped that fate, but need I remind that first, Jean died, and then she came back AND KILLED HIM. STOP SCREWING OVER JASON MARSDEN’S LOVE LIFE, MOVIES!!!!

Seems like we’re once again headed down that path, though, as the very injured Lon asks Allie out on a date while in recovery, then takes her out once he’s healed. And, since he’s about as forward as Noah was, but less crazy when asking her out, she falls in love with him quickly. And it’s Duke that makes that assessment, not me. And, OF COURSE, he’s a rich Southern boy, meaning that her parents are going to approve.

At a dance club in the city with...black performDEAR GOD IT’S GETTING HARD TO HOLD ON BUT I GOTTA DO IT MOVING ON

He proposes to her, with her parents’ full permission (of course, because he’s rich and southern, gross), and she gladly accepts. He jumps on stage and announces to the entire club that they’re getting married. However, she’s still missing Noah subconsciously.

Speaking of, Noah comes home from war, presumably in 1945, and finds that his father sold him the house in order to buy the Windsor Plantation. Around the same time, Noah finds out that Allie’s moved on, and is with Lon. So, what does he do? The only logical thing: he restores the entire plantation by himself in order to win Allie back FUCKING REALLY?

Dude, you rebuilt an entire house on your own, your father died, and you could EASILY get rich off of selling the house and continuing to restore other derelict properties in the area! Upwards mobility, my man! You don’t even need to stay in town anymore! Hell, THAT’S a better plan to win both Allie’s AND her parents’ approval! STOP SIMPIN’, AND IF YOU’RE GONNA SIMP, DO IT RIGHT!!!

He’s also sleeping with a war widow, Martha Shaw (Jamie Brown), and STILL thinks only of Allie, and her sweet, sweeeeeeet bathwater, probably. Speaking of, Allie’s trying on a wedding dress, when she sees a photo of Noah in the paper in front of the plantation, which certainly shocks her. Confused, she goes to see Lon at his job as a stockbroker, and laments to him her lost romantic whimsy, brought up by seeing Ryan Gosling (AKA a natural response). She tells him that she’s going to Seabrook to “clear her head.” Lon asks if he should be worried. She says no. SHE LIIIIIIIIIIES.

Halfway mark, and this is a good place to cut! See you in Part 2!

#the notebook #nick cassavetes #ryan gosling #noah calhoun #rachel mcadams #allie hamilton #james garner #gena rowlands #james marsden #kevin connolly #romance february #user365 #365 movie challenge #365 movies 365 days #365 Days 365 Movies #365 movies a year #supernovass #sincerelygabby

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