#enter the Evil Summer and it becomes hot all the time. But... one can attempt.. at least... | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

leggomylino · 5 years ago

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Vibe So Hot | Han Jisung

Genre: Fluff, Comedy

Pairing: Han Jisung x fem!reader

AU: neighbor au, prank war au

Word Count: ~11.7k

Warning(s): mild language (censored)

A/N: inspired by the song “Vibe So Hot,” Priscilla Ahn

ღ Stray Kids M.List | M.List ღ

-〤〤〤-

There were times when you weren’t really sure about Han Jisung.

The day you moved from your parent’s house into your new home, life was a dream. A delight. A living fantasy. You and your closest friend of twenty-odd years had been visualizing it for ages- a home for just the two of you, where you could make and break all the rules you wanted, eat dinner out of the cookie jar, throw paint and crayon all over the walls, and dump all the grease, homework, and leftover brussel sprouts down the garbage disposal that you wanted. It would be your kingdom with the two of you at equal pedestal on the throne, and no one could say or do anything about it.

While your visuals and ideals did change over time, what with hormones and taxes and a general understanding of how the world worked, you and F/n never stopped dreaming of the day you each held one half of the kingdom between your fingers. One half of freedom. It was a blissful, beautiful Tuesday morning. Exactly five months ago. Birds chirping in the small tulip trees. The sweet spring breeze ruffling the surrounding azaleas. The simple but water-efficient sprinkler system the two of you had worked a summer job to afford that was...spraying…...coke…

...Yes, it had been a beautiful Tuesday morning. And also the arrival of hell next door.

“HAN JISUNG!” you yelled, banging on your neighbor’s front door. “Han Jisung, I know you’re home!” You stamped your foot. “Open this door right now!”

It was now five months later. Five months since you’d moved into your dream home, something small and sweet and affordable that you and your friend worked hard for years to achieve. Just something small to start the two of you out, while you finished up school and figured out what the heck the two of you wanted to do with the rest of your lives.

It had easily become five months of back-and-forth hell. “HAN JISUNG!!!”

Click. The door slowly creaked open. It was dark inside, far too dark for 2 pm, like something out of a horror movie.

Oh, but you weren’t falling for another one of his tricks. Not this time. “Han Jisung, I know you’re there…” You called...weakly. “C-Come out this instant. I know it was you who stuffed cereal into the birdfeeder and left glue on the door handles. I was almost late for work this morning and F/n is stuck on the back porch.”

There was no response. You agitatedly sighed, running a hand through your hair and taking a handful of strands with you thanks to the faint remainder of krazy glue that simply wouldn’t come off.

“Han,” you called, poking your head inside. “Han? Han Jisun-”

The moment you stepped inside, a loud whrr! resounded, your body hoisting upwards. You spun around in the flimsily thin netting, falling into a fetal position backwards.

Han and a few of his cronies came out cackling at your expense, watching you gently spin and sway in their ridiculous trap. “I caught Y/n!” one of them cheered. “That’s 1,000 points.”

Another scoffed. “You didn’t do anything,” he said, blowing long blonde locks out of his face. “The points go to me for setting up the...project.”

“Shouldn’t they go to Han?” Yet another asked. “It’s his house.”

You rolled your eyes, attempting to adjust. Han tromped over proudly and swung his arm around the boy. “Exactly!” he cheered, pinching his cheek. “I’m glad you see it my way.”

The kid squinted his fox-like features in disgust, shoving the ringleader away from him. Han merely laughed, smirking up at you next. He sent a flirtatious wink your way. You scoffed.

“S’up, gorgeous?”

“Drop dead.”

“Ouch,” he playfully winced, pretending to take literal damage. “Didn’t like the glue, or the cereal? I told Hyunjin no one wanted his bland raisin garbage. But,” He shrugged. “He insisted it was good for the birds. The raisins, anyway-”

“Screw you,” Goldilocks groaned. “Shove off, I never said I ate the stuff. I just said it was better than wasting Lucky Charms or something actually good.”

“...Yeah, so there’s that.” He spared a passing eye roll before putting back on his deceitfully charming smile. Disgusting. “What brought you to swing by? Just dropping in?”

The other boys laughed again, causing you to turn an annoying shade of pinkish-red, some cross between coral and rouge. “I don’t have to tell you anything!” you snapped in your anger.

Unfortunately, Han Jisung needed to know the facts. “Then...how am I supposed to help you? Oh, oh! Hold on a minute.” He simpered. “Are you maybe trying to tell me that you came by unannounced because...you wanted to get caught up in my web?”

Han’s crew all made catcalls and whistles along with nervous smiles and suggestive expressions. The nerve of him. You fought yourself into an upright position, clawing angrily at the seams. “I meant you already know what you did wrong! Get me out of this stupid thing and get over to my house so you can fix it.”

“Oooo,” A freckled-faced boy you recognized as Felix cooed. He’d often been a leading officer in many of Han’s classic pranks and schemes. “I think she wants you bro.”

The heat on your face was intensifying, whether from rage or embarrassment, you didn’t care. Your prison shook. “That’s not what I-”

“Well then,” Han (classically) interrupted. “Guess I better get over there and fix it.” He wiggled his eyebrows in a salacious manner, padding around the clamour of boys and taking the stairs three at a time like a gazelle. When he reached the top, he revealed a rope from around the corner, lowering you gently...at first.

After three careful tugs, he dropped the rope entirely. Your eyes went wide, screaming as you fell--

...Right into Han Jisung’s arms. The boy glided down the stair rail and caught you at the last possible second. “Plenty of time to spare,” he insisted, showing you his teeth.

You slapped them away, wrestling your way back to your feet. “...You’re such an asshole, Han Jisung,” You dusted yourself off, smoothing out your attire single handedly. “I--”

...You yanked your hand down. Away from his face. Hard. Harder.

It was stuck. Your hand was stuck to his cheek. Krazy glue.

“OW! Ow ow ow okay! That hurts! Sh*t!” He cursed. You rolled your eyes, kicking his leg.

“That’s what you get for gluing my door! Now come on!”

To make things less awkward, you gripped his left ear, yanking him like a mother would a misbehaving child. The others crowded around and followed, laughing as—

The door slammed in their face. “OW!” You heard Hyunjin yelp. His watered-down image through the distorted window showed him covering his nose, the other two goons frantically asking if he was okay.

...Well, Felix did, anyway. Fox-face merely stared and shook his head a little. “Let’s go. You’re cleaning the glue off both doors and changing out the birdfeeder. If you screw it up, you’re buying me a new one.” A harsh gaze fell over your shoulder. “After you unstick F/n!”

Han grunted, his groans and whines a feeble echo of white noise along with the ridiculous passes he occasionally made on the way over.

-〤〤〤-

After spending an hour and a half watching Han unstick glue from around your house (after unsticking your hand from his face) and taking a trip down to the hardware store for a new birdfeeder that 100% came out of his pocket, you sighed, trudging yourself through the front door and collapsing onto the nearest sofa by a front-facing window. You leered, observing Han shuffle up his own walkway and exchange harsh words with his friends before they all piled inside.

That bastard. He was always coming after you, ever since you first moved into the neighborhood. After the first week of assaults (from moving day) you’d asked the other neighbors if any of them had any bad experiences from house 117, but they all gave a generally same response: “Who, Han Jisung? Oh, heavens no! He’s such a nice boy! A little quirky, sure, but such a nice boy! ...Are you sure it wasn’t a raccoon or a stray cat?”

Heh, yeah. Like a stray cat was capable of impersonating your friend to have the locks on your house changed. Didn’t they have to do security checks for that stuff?!

Speaking of locks, the sound of keys ricocheted from your left, and you turned your head to see F/n enter...very strangely. They looked spooked, their eyes wide as they turned their head this way and that, creeping into the house like an Egyptian wall painting.

“Is the cost clear?” they asked. “Is he gone? Nothing’s missing? Nothing’s amiss?”

“Relax, F/n,” you said, scratching your head. You desperately needed a shower, but that had been rather hard with the pipes spewing nothing but Mr. Pibb for the past three days. It’d apparently be a fourth until they cleared out. “The menace is gone, back to his evil layer. I made sure he cleaned up his mess and got him to replace your grandmother’s birdfeeder.”

F/n scowled, back to normal as they tromped into the room, throwing their bags down. “She made that birdfeeder from scratch, Y/n. With her own two arthritis riddled hands, that birdfeeder may as well have been an ancient relic. It was one of a kind.”

“I know, I know,” you insisted, peacefully trying to calm them down. “Just relax. I got it under control and taken care of.”

“You said that last time. Now look at the place.”

You looked around. “...It looks spotless. Han actually did a really nice job with that extra work he put in.”

“Well it wasn’t before! ...Wait, you let him into the house?!”

Whoops. “Only to do some extra chores. To make up for outside. And many other times he’s screwed us over.”

Your friend grabbed the sides of their hair, practically seething. They regarded you like you’d gone insane, and they were just on the brink. “Y/n have you lost your mind? Are you stupid? I thought you were smart! What was that 3.5 GPA for?!”

“Hey, GPA isn’t everything. It’s just a matter of getting on a teacher’s good side and paying attention. Also, I’m aware that...that may have not been the best move. But it’s fine!” you insisted, now following your friend into the kitchen. “I was watching him the whole time. He didn’t leave my line of sight once!”

F/n opened the fridge, glaring perplexedly. “...Not once?”

“......”

You thought. Oh wait...well…

You smiled sheepishly. “...Actually...ahaha...he may have asked to go to the bathroom once…”

F/n’s jaw dropped. “And you let him?!”

Your hands found their way into the air. “What was I supposed to do, F/n? Follow him into the bathroom? That’s creepy and gross and uncalled for.”

Your friend grabbed a beer from the fridge, slamming the door shut after. “No, Y/n. You tell him to go next door and use his bathroom.”

“But what if it was an emergency?”

“I think he can hold it.”

“But what if he couldn’t?”

They paused just beside you, giving you a harsh glare. “After all he’s done? I’d say that’s a real shame and another mess he’d have to clean up.”

“F/n--!”

“NO, Y/N,” Your friend of twenty-odd years turned to you, making it halfway back to the front door. “You don’t get it! It has been five years--”

“Five months.”

“...It has felt like I have had my guard up for five years. I can’t relax in my own home. I can’t relax at work, I can’t relax at school-- I can’t relax anywhere!” They polished off the beer, crumbling the can and tossing it aimlessly into the kitchen. You ducked, the can soaring over your left ear and colliding with a kitchen cabinet. “URGH!”

They grabbed their bags, beginning to march out. You were faster, sliding on sock-clad feet across Han-polished floors to beat them to it, blocking the exit. “F/n, listen. Please. I agree it’s bad, but I think you’re overreacting just a little.”

“Overreacting?! …” S/he crossed his/her arms, glaring at you skeptically and in disbelief. “Okay, fine. Which bathroom did he use?”

“Huh?”

“Which bathroom?”

You swallowed, thinking again. “...Uh...the upstairs one.”

F/n deadpanned. Cold and hard. “Great. Thank you for that. All my school supplies are up there. My office and workspace is up there. That’s where I sleep, Y/n.” You blinked.

“You sleep in your office?”

“URGH!”

They pushed you aside, storming into the wide, open world. Hysterically you followed, snagging your keys off the side table by the front door and making sure to lock up behind you. “F/n- ...F/n wait…! Ah, stupid locks…!”

“Don’t follow me, Y/n!”

“WAIT!”

“I SAID DON’T FOLLOW ME!”

From the corner of your eye, a silhouette of dark brown hair and overly-white teeth made its way toward your property line. “Hello F/n, Y/n.” The careful fall breeze blew the shade from his eyes, where evil and mischief still resided. “Having a little back and forth banter, are we? A disagreement, perhaps?”

Han-bleeping-Jisung. Your vision narrowed, a scowl aimed directly at him. When he was around, it’s all you could focus on. Your senses heightened, and not in a good way. He couldn’t be trusted.

You shouldn’t have let him into your house. Your sensors were picking up on something. He seemed too happy for someone that was just forced into doing chores in a house that wasn’t their own. And willing so…

A hot vibe was residing along the back of your neck, between your shoulder blades. A sinking, sensationally bad feeling. “What can we help you with, Han?”

“Oh,” he piped, brows raised. “We’re on a single name basis now. That’s rare.”

F/n cast him a dark look and continued down the sidewalk to their car. You sighed, trying to relax and having little success; F/n was right, it was hard to remain calm with a hellion next door. “What do you need?”

Han Jisung shoved his hands in his pockets. “Need is a strong word. I need a lot of things. Food, water, air--”

A groan escaped your lips. “Fine. Forgive me. What do you want?”

“Hmmm…” He smirked, listing his head. “I want a lot of things, princess. Depends what you’re referring to.”

You’re pretty sure you could hear the gag coming from F/n’s car as they started the engine, shifting into reverse. Han chuckled, letting you know he heard it too.

“Alright, fine.” He held his hands up in surrender. “You caught me. I came to warn you.”

“Warn me about what?”

“......” He pursed his lips. “...I may have gotten a bit carried away and...well, I couldn’t resist, really. But I was thinking and, maybe it was in bad taste. Since Hyunjin did break your grandmother’s bird-thing.”

A rustling came from the bushes. “That wasn’t me! That was you!”

Han cringed, turning over his right shoulder. “Shhh!”

You faltered, zoning in on Han’s shrubbery. “Who is that? Is that Hyunjin hiding in your flowers?”

Han rolled his eyes, tossing...some junk from his pockets. A coin or something. “I told you not to say a word!”

Blonde hair revealed itself from the viburnum bushes on Han’s property. “Cattywampus.”

“I SAID TO SHHH!”

Hyunjin scoffed. “Oh, so when we’re playing Scrabble, it’s not a word. But now that we’re probing Y/n for information, all of a sudden, it’s a word!”

The air left your lungs, quite dramatically, and you took a step back farther into the safety of your porch. “...What is he talking about? What information?”

Tensions spiked like never before. Han simply groaned. “Dammit...thanks a lot, Hyunjin.” He turned to you with a sour face. “Yeah, okay, whatever, just...I wanted to know when your birthday was.”

He shrugged, trying to pull off the most innocent, blow-it-off look possible. You weren’t buying it. “What were you saying before? What did you do to my house?”

“Oh yeah,” He clasped his hands behind his back, sending another classic trademarked wink your way. Hyunjin freed himself from the viburnum flowers, along with Fox-face, who’d gotten himself tangled up in the next-door rose bush; he tripped over an illy placed hoolahoop and ran into Hyunjin, the two of them taking turns removing literal thorns from their sides. “I left you a present inside.”

I left you a present inside.

He left you a present inside your house. A surprise. A bad one. You had invited him into your living space, your relaxation hub where relaxation was scarce, and gave him just enough alone time to leave something behind.

Something terrible. Something rotten.

Han Jisung was no longer looking like Han Jisung to you; what you saw before you was his true form: a plotting, overzealous, sadistic little impish demon of a man, no...a demon pretending to be a man. Someone like Han Jisung couldn’t possibly be human. There was no love at all in his heart.

“F/N!” You yelled, chasing after them as they drove down the street. “F/N, WAIT! STOP THE CAR! PLEASE!!!”

You could feel Han Jisung’s eyes as he trailed you all the way down Maple Street, his friends watching as F/n hit the brakes a hundred feet shy of the stop sign and let you clamber in the back.

“Step on it.”

S/he nodded, slamming the accelerator and getting the two of you safely out of Dodge. “I’m going to a friend’s house. I have to return a few things I borrowed before Han Hellion ruins them,” They looked over their shoulder. “Where are you headed?”

Your eyes glared proudly through the rearview mirror. F/n drew back, nervously looking between you and the road unassured.

But there was nothing for it. They could yell and pitch a fit at you later. Today, this very moment, everything was going to end.

“The craft store,” you said. “And you’re coming with me.”

“What?”

“We’re taking our house back.”

“......”

The car rolled to a stop at the cross section of Water and Runway Boulevard. If it was the friend you were thinking of, F/n would have to make a right here. Your local craft store was the opposite direction.

With a unanimous nod through the rearview, the two of you made a left down Water Street.

-〤〤〤-

Hobby Lobby had to be your favorite store, next to Fye’s Music Records where you occasionally went for your music collection and your favorite restaurant. ...Though a store wasn’t really a restaurant, and vice-versa.

You and F/n scoured the many aisles of arts and crafts, decor and gifts, candles and knick-knacks, searching high and low for everything on a messy-scribbled list the two of you put together in the parking lot. Revenge was going to be so sweet. Total bliss.

“Buckets?” A young employee repeated back to you. “Yes, let’s see, they should be near the back of the store, on the right-hand side. If you pass the glitter and pipecleaners, you’ve gone too far. I believe they’re on Aisle 13.”

“Thanks,” F/n said, grabbing your wrist and dragging you behind them. They almost seemed more excited about this whole revenge-war than you did. “Aisle 10...Aisle 11...Aisle--”

S/he stopped, pale-stricken. “What is it?” You tried peering around the corner. “What’s wrong? Are they sold out or somethi--”

Your heart nearly stopped. There, in the middle of the aisle, stood Lee Felix, perusing a wide selection of glitter glue. A bucket (not a basket) hung from slack fingers, carrying a barrage of other craft equipment as well as a plastic bag from the Home Depot next door.

Some kind of rage was flooding through your system. You could sense it in F/n as well. The two of you were in sync, fed up with the Hellion Clan’s crazy antics and batsh*t ideas that only brought you pain and suffering. Enough was enough.

You practically shoved your friend aside. “LEE FELIX!”

Felix jumped, startled, frantic, eyes zooming in on you like a deer in headlights.

Then, unlike a deer in headlights, he ran.

“AFTER HIM!” F/n cried, shoving the list in their pocket. S/he ran farther towards the front of the store to block the entrance, while you followed in hot pursuit of the freckled boy’s trail.

Your phone buzzed as you ran, and without taking your eyes off your target you shuffled it out of your purse, slamming the receive button a little too hard. “What?!”

“He’s going towards the back of the store! He’s heading for the emergency exit!”

You gave a quizzical look toward your friend’s voice coming out of your phone, then back at your target’s backside. “What? How do you know that? Where are you?!”

“Look up. Aisle 1. Holiday crafts.”

Carefully your eyes scanned the tops of the shelves near the entrance, and after doing a double take on a statue you found F/n squatting among some Santa Claus and Christmas angels, a pair of high-grade binoculars in their mits.

You had no idea when they’d gotten those. “Where did you get those from?! How the heck did you get up there?”

“That’s not important right now! Just SEIZE HIM! He’s getting away, run faster!”

With an aggravated grunt you hung up, shoving your phone away and pushing your legs to hit the tile twice as hard. Some twenty feet in front of you Felix squeaked, making a surprise turn down Aisle 2 and knocking over a stack of decorative boxes. You cursed, calling forth your skills from high school gym to hurdle yourself over the monstrosity and skid to a temporary halt before barreling down the half-storage half-Christmas decor aisle.

“He’s getting away!” F/n yelled. “Move!!!”

“Why don’t you help me?!” You called back. Felix made a 90 degree turn, charging farther back into the store in the opposite way you were anticipating; unless…

A store manager suddenly appeared at the end of the aisle, holding her hand out to stop you. “Excuse me, I don’t think so; there’s no horseplay allowed in the store.”

Though she tried to grab you, you dodged like a badass, perrying right, then left, then spiraling after a mop of retreating orange hair down Aisle 7. “Can’t! Sorry! I’ll pay for this later!”

“I’m sorry?!”

“Hold that thought!”

The sound of static and muffled voices crackled behind you as the manager called for backup, but you didn’t care. This would all be over once the little coral pipsqueak was in your grasp; you’d make sure to make him sing everything that was going on.

“LEE FELIIIIIX!”

Somewhere on the opposite side Felix squealed, either running into something or barricading another path to ensure his freedom. You slid to another halt, straining your ears to pick up on the sound.

Maybe you could sneak up on him. You were getting pretty tired, and running all over the store wasn’t a very good strategy for either side. Tiptoeing down Aisle 6, buttons and sewing equipment, you held your breath, carefully peering down both directions of the aisle.

Empty, minus a mom and her kid. You dropped down on all fours, crawling to the next aisle-- except--

“Ow!” you hissed, pricking yourself on something sharp. It was a discarded sewing needle.

It gave you an idea. After sucking on the injury a moment, you snagged the discarded object, pinning it to the side of your bag.

You hopped to your feet and gathered the strongest thread and yarn you could. After diving into a pile of fabrics when a few security guards walked by, you got back to work setting up your ingenious idea. A little thread here. Some fabric there. A weight right here…

You quickly sewed (loosely) a few strips of fabric together, finally finishing your creation. “Sorry, this aisle is closed right now,” you said to a few customers, spreading slime over each end of the hall. It was showtime. “I’m ready,” you told F/n, uttering the words through your phone.

F/n had done well to keep their disguise as an oddly-put Santa, peering through their binoculars when no one was looking. “Okay. I sort of lost him after the cops started lurking by here. Let’s see…”

Another curse left your lips. “He didn’t leave, did he?”

“No, I didn’t hear the doors open or close. He’s gotta still be here somewhere…..aha!” Their cry made you jump. “Found him!”

“Where?!”

“Opposite side. Aisle 18. He’s hiding around the picture frames.”

“Dang it,” you groaned, “I need him over here!” You looked around hesitantly. “Can you get him over to this side? I’m on Aisle 7. Additional Sewing and Craft Supplies. Fabrics, yarn, etc.”

“I’m scared to leave my post, but…” F/n sighed. “...I guess if you have a plan, I can chase him that way.”

“Great, okay. Hurry.”

“Roger.”

You hung up, taking another deep breath. Waiting. Ducking when the cops circled back around.

Suddenly, you heard a familiar battle cry from the other side of the store, followed by a man’s scream. The security guards and management started racing that way, but by the time they’d get there the source would be long gone…

Because he was headed straight for your trap. You scaled to the top of the aisle, keeping low with a blanket of fabric over your head as you watched Lee Felix weave in and out of craft stands and passing customers, buzzing toward Aisle 7 like a bee to a honey hive.

“RwARGH!” F/n cried, their Santa disguise flying with a full-powered shove. Felix went plunging for the nearest aisle, your aisle, and the moment his sneakers hit Elmer’s Color Slime Kit, he slipped, spinning out of control right into the giant DIY net you created. Yes! Score!

“HIYAH!” You screamed, jumping off the aisle shelf and tackling him. Gave over. You’d won.

Felix squirmed and fought with all the strength he had left in him, his abs, his arms, his quads, but alas, twice his body weight from you and your friend combined was more than enough to stop him. He gave out with a long sigh just as an employee rounded the corner, crying for assistance.

You were out of time. Tying his hands behind his back and bundling the rest of the fabric around him, your friend threw a couple twenties from their pocket at the young man before the two of you slipped out the emergency exit.

“You’re going to tell us everything!” You demanded, carrying his torso. Felix scowled, rolling his eyes. Despite his obvious anger, he was sweating bullets and looked rather afraid.

“I’m not telling you anything. You made me drop my stuff.”

“You can go back for it later. F/n, open the door.”

F/n shook their head, placing your captive’s feet down and unlocking the back of their car. “Nuh-uh. He’s riding back here.”

“In the trunk?!” The boy cried.

“In the trunk.”

F/n was dead serious. You stifled a laugh, even if it was kind of mean. Felix whined and bowed his head as the two of you placed him inside, F/n smacking a bow on his head that’d stuck to them during the chase.

“Okay. Let’s get out of here.”

The two of you slammed the door shut.

-〤〤〤-

The moment light hit your captive’s eyes, he squinted, groaning from the bumpy ride (as F/n insisted on hitting every speed bump and pothole). Lifting the boy on the count of three, he made sure to cry out for help- “HAN!!! HYUNJIN!!! JEONGIN!!! I’M OVER HERE!!!”- but, as it was expected, F/n simply dropped the boy on the driveway and threatened to stomp over a...delicate area...before smirking at his wide-eyed response and stuffing the bow in his mouth.

“Um, F/n…” You muttered, hoisting your prize up the porch steps, “don’t you think maybe you’re being too-”

“Don’t,” they warned, casting you a glare. “I’m not being too anything. These jerks deserve way worse.” They shifted Felix’s weight in order to allow you room to open the door. “Besides, it’s not like we’re gonna torture him or anything. Just ask a few questions.”

Felix gave a sigh of relief.

“...We can figure out what to do with him after that.”

...He took a sharp breath, beginning to sweat.

Inside the house the two of you tossed Felix onto the couch, running around the lower level to gather equipment before shifting him to a dining room chair. You were adjusting his bindings when the phone rang, F/n scampering off to answer it after sharing a look.

They smirked at the familiar caller I.D. “Y/n and F/n residence,” S/he answered in an overly-pleasant tone. “How may I help you?” Quickly they pulled the phone away, placing it down on speaker. The two of you, and Felix, glared at the voice coming out from the other side.

“We know you have him,” Han’s voice echoed throughout the living room. He sounded serious, demanding almost, sending a shiver down your spine. That was new. “What do you want?”

“Oh, what do we want?” F/n asked. They scoffed, peering out the blinds on the opposite side of the fireplace, just next to the kitchen. Directly at Han’s estate. “That’s something you don’t hear everyday.”

Han huffed, sounding disgusted. Suddenly, Felix erupted, spitting out the bow you’d forgotten to secure. “HAN! HAN I’M OKAY!!! BUT I LOST THE STUFF AT--”

Frantically you pounced, stuffing a fistful of Kleenex in his mouth. A chorus of anxious whispers filled the other line from Jisung and his goons, before Han silenced them and got back to business.

“Felix, if you can hear me, it’s okay. I need you to take one for the team right now until I come up with something.”

Ironically and unneeded, Felix nodded, as if Han could see him. You and F/n rolled your eyes.

Suddenly, a loud splat! sent them squealing backwards.

Your jaw dropped, watching rotten egg dribble and creep down your immaculately-just-cleaned window. Felix chuckled, falling on a sour note after you elbowed him. When two more assaults hit, you ducked for unnecessary cover behind Felix, F/n plastering themselves against the fireplace.

“What do we do?!” you whispered, cringing every time an egg bomb made contact with the glass. What if by some crazy law of nature those things actually broke the window and leaked into the house?! It could take days to get the smell out. Heck, given that it was right next to the fireplace, and you had yet to test the installation of the seams...it’d likely start leaking into the house within the coming hours.

The pelts were slowly getting louder, rising in a horrifically drawn-out crescendo. “GIVE HIM BACK! GIVE HIM BACK!” you heard the goons chanting.

Were they on the roof?! You couldn’t bear this much longer. Your house was being eggified. Sullied. Disgraced. Finally cracking under the pressure, you flew some hand signals F/n’s direction that didn’t really mean anything and army-crawled to a yet-to-be-ambushed window, examining the battle situation outside before rolling back to your feet and sprinting for a backroom.

“Where are you going?!” F/n whispered harshly. S/he and Han bantered back and forth a bit, his demands of Felix’s release rattling the warfront before you returned with exactly what you’d been looking for: a megaphone. Ah, camp counselor days.

F/n saw what you were doing and instantly, wildly, vehemently shook their head no. But you were taking matters into your own hands now.

“Han Jisung,” you stated, loudly enough so your voice could travel over the massive egg-pelting outside. “Hold your fire and I’ll bring Felix outside.”

You waited a few seconds, and the firing stopped. Han’s voice practically purred over the speaker. Very disgusting. “You’re starting to see things my way. That’s good.”

“Oh yes. I’m most certainly starting to see things your way.” The phone lifted between your fingers. “We’ll meet on the roofs in five minutes. If I hear or see one more egg on my property, the meeting is off.”

“......” There was an uncomfortable silence on the other line.

You tilted your head. “Han Jisung? No deal?”

Felix whined a few feet behind you. Han sighed, clearly hearing it. “...Fine. We’ll meet you there.” Click.

You tossed the phone to F/n, who scarcely caught it, juggling it a few times on nervous butterfingers. “Alright, look,” s/he said, pacing across the room and slamming it down on the receiver. “I don’t know what kind of cockameme scheme you have planned, but…”

You smiled. “Don’t worry. I know what I’m doing.”

They sighed exasperatingly. “I’m sure you told yourself that when you let him into the house earlier, too.”

“......” You faltered, crossing your arms. “Touche. But this time, I really know what I’m doing.” With the utmost confidence and summoned strength you tilted Felix’s chair back, causing him to panic. “C’mon. Help me get this up through the attic.”

-〤〤〤-

Glitter glue. Hair dye. A bucket.

Truth be told, you actually did manage to go back and secure Felix’s belongings. It was around some point during the creation of the gigantic net at Hobby Lobby: F/n had seen them while running around, snagged it, and stashed the goods in the car without telling you.

Now, you were going to use them against the enemy. If only you knew what the wrench from Home Depot was for… “Okay, listen up,” you stated, standing proudly on your roof. F/n stood at your side, Felix in between you two, still strapped to the dining room chair. Though the Kleenex were now gone, his pie hole remained shut...with Puffs. Not the good brand, F/n had said. “We have your friend, and as you can clearly see, he’s fine. We haven’t done anything to him.”

“Yet,” Hyunjin sneered, standing atop Han’s roof. He crossed his arms at Han’s right, Fox-face (Jeongin) on the left. “I fail to see how tying him up and stuffing his mouth shut equates to not doing anything.”

“Hyunjin, enough big words,” Han moaned. “We get it, you’re good at Scrabble, and you should have won. Lay off already.”

Hyunjin growled, making a face. From the opposing roof, you lowered your mic, extending your hand left. F/n glanced sideways, placing the box of hair dye in your hand. The situation on the other side swiftly grew stiff, everyone’s eyes watching you expectantly.

“Y-Y/n...what are you doing?”

It came out as more of a statement than a question. A fretful smirk played on the corner of your lips. “Oh my, what am I doing? …”

Yours fingers got right to work tearing open the packaging. Felix turned his head as far as his binding would let him, his eyes widening and brows sinking beneath his coral-colored bangs the moment he recognized the object...and the word permanent etched within a warning sign. “Mmm! Mm-mm mmm! MMM!”

“Wait, Y/n,” F/n said, reaching out. They suddenly looked hesitant, unsure. “We never questioned him first. Shouldn’t we…”

You paused, tossing the box and plastic wrap over your shoulder. With any luck, it’d blow into Han Jisung’s yard; if not, you could just pick it up later. “What, now you’re getting cold feet?” You huffed. “You’re the one that was getting carried away before. I thought you were sick of all this crap.”

“I am...I am. I’m just saying, maybe we should have pressed him for answers before running up here.”

“After they started egging our house?! What, was I supposed to wait for toilet paper to fly through the trees and spray paint to stain our front door?!”

“No, I’m just saying—”

“I’m done talking!” Your eyes narrowed, focusing on Han’s. He was staring right back at you, an intense look residing. “I want revenge. I want action. This ends today.”

You popped the cap off the bottle of murky green liquid, Hyunjin and Jeongin both seeming to lose their posture as the cap flipped through the air, bouncing to the ground below. They started to squirm, much to your delight; though perhaps a little overdramatic; but it was about time the other side felt the same pain and turmoil you had. It’d been far too long an unjust imbalance.

But Han held his hands at peace, calming his soldiers and taking a step forward; sending the imbalance back where it was, in his favor. He cupped his hands around that loud mouth of his. “Y/n!!! Listen to me, you don’t wanna do this! ...I-I don’t think, anyway!”

He seemed nervous. Flustered. You actually had Han Jisung, Hellion of 117 Maple Street, in a nervous fluster.

The moment was sweet, rich, decadent and savory. In the air, a cool breeze blew by.

“I’m sorry? What was that?” You lifted the bottle over Felix’s head. His whole body tensed, slightly leaning away like a magnet that didn’t attract.

Han bit his lip, gaze flitting between your hand and the boy below. Behind him, Hyunjin and Jeongin watched with battered breath, biting their nails and covering the lower half of their faces. Han sighed, suddenly waving his hand behind him. “Jeongin, you shouldn’t see this. Cover your eyes. I don’t know if I can stop her.”

The boy frowned, shakily turning from Han’s voice back to you. “I-I can’t, Han...it’s too horrible, but I can’t look away.”

“Then get back inside. I’m sure Y/n will at least allow that much.”

Raising his brow at you in question, you carefully gave a single nod, watching the young fox-face go. Jeongin had never done anything to you, except for maybe participate in the egg-throwing debacle eight minutes ago. Otherwise, as far as you could tell, he was clean, just a bystander in Han’s antics.

As the roof door shut above Jeongin’s head, F/n gave you a worried look. “Y/n…” s/he said, turning to you sideways. “...Something’s not—”

“Shhh!” You spat. Your hand holding the bottle teetered towards a horizontal slant. “Not now. This makes things easier. One less groupie to worry about.”

“But Y/n—”

Felix could practically sense your movements, starting to squeal. “HAN! Please! I have an interview tomorrow and I don’t think they allow unnatural hair!!!”

F/n grunted, crossing their arms at being ignored. You listed your head to match the angle of the bottle. Revenge was so sweet. “Well, Han?”

It felt like an eternity went by. Everything was still, calm, the only noise to be heard the rustling of the trees. A distant clicking that was probably just the other neighbor’s cat. You felt like you were in a Shonen anime, where the characters face off for episodes at a time with nothing but empty heated stares and uselessly repeated banter (usually flashbacks).

“......” Han Jisung swallowed. “Okay, Y/n, stop.” He sighed. “...You win.”

A heaviness released from your chest. You...won? That was it? Was he really just surrendering right now? No surprise counterattack? No negotiations?

Instead, Han Jisung and his last remaining sidekick glared pitifully in your direction, like all hope had fleeted from their grasp. Meaning…

You won. You actually won...

The biggest smile took over the lower half of your face, so happy you could have cheered, overjoyedly so, kissing your friend’s cheek. You squealed in delight, tossing the bottle in the air and not really caring where it landed, so excited, so stoked, so—

“Ow!” a young man’s voice said.

Gasp. What was that?! That didn’t sound like Felix or...your friend...that was...wasn’t...

“Y/n!!!”

You whirled around, just in time to see Jeongin standing at the height of your roof, stuffing your friend down the ladder. He paused, similar to how Felix had in Hobby Lobby; that deer in the headlights look; and with terrified effort kicked F/n down the attic, hopping in and letting the door drop after him.

Laughter could be heard bellowing along the wind, a hurricane billowing your direction. You whirled around, flabbergasted, horrified to see Han Jisung with that coy smirk on his face, that evil glint in his eye, the long-legged Hyunjin doing a memey sort of dance, as the two of them laughing it up at your expense. Even Felix, still bound to the chair, was…

...Well, actually, he looked rather annoyed and a little pissed. “HEY!” he griped, stamping his feet. “What happened to releasing me first?! I thought that was part of the plan!”

Plan…? ……

“You mean…” You glared expressionless. “This was all setup...from the beginning? Even Hobby Lobby?”

“Duh,” Hyunjin piped, giving you an incredulous look. “We saw you and F/n heading that way, so I called Felix while Han coached Jeongin on the art of...sneaking onto other's property. We knew the two of you were probably at your breaking point, given how you were screaming all the way down the street…” He shrugged. “We figured you’d try to retaliate. It was too good to pass up.”

“......”

Anger wasn’t enough anymore. You were downright enraged, seething...and also, a bit heartbroken. A lot heartbroken. It was all planned. Your revenge was just another part of their game. They anticipated it, adjusted to it, even arranged it. It was all for not...and, what’s more…

Now they had F/n. The Fox-faced demon would be scampering out of your house and into the devil’s layer at any minute.

But he’d made a fatal mistake. You still had one of their own in your grasp.

With the utmost vexation and irritability you screamed, grabbing the bottle of hair dye from where it got caught between two shilling panels and tore the whole lid off, dumping the entire bottle into Felix’s hair. Han and Hyunjin froze in the middle of their victorious dance ritual to watch in horror as Felix screeched, trying to shake the substance out and make any feeble attempt he could to get away. You ripped open the glitter glue next, aiming it right at his scalp.

“Give F/n back right now or I’m adding glitter. Lots of it.”

“......”

Han Jisung and Hwang Hyunjin just continued to stare at you dumbfounded. Because they didn’t respond, you emptied the entire container, not caring if it seeped into the boy’s eyes as you dropped everything else for the attic door.

“OH SH*T! MY EYES! MY FACE! YOU GUYS SUCK! AHH—”

The roof latch clicked behind you.

Flying down the ladder and around the hall you ran with all your might for the front door. Surprisingly enough, however, Jeongin was having a tough time getting there himself, wrestling with F/n for a position that allowed him to keep them quiet while having the freedom to move quickly. Unfortunately for him, F/n wasn’t going down without a fight.

“Let...go…! Get…off…...ahh! Y/n!!!”

They were wrestling at the end of the hall, just above the stairs. You pushed yourself harder, faster, ready to pulverize this kid you once found cute and adorable.

Something was off, though. You noticed as you got closer. The way they fought— it was almost too carefully, like they were trying to avoid hitting something.

You found out too little too late. F/n’s eyes widened.

“Y/n, no, look out—!”

Fwoosh!

Your foot tripped over a wire, and the three of you went tumbling upwards.

You couldn’t believe you fell for the same trick twice.

-〤〤〤-

“Hold still,” Hyunjin groaned, clawing at Felix’s bindings. The boy practically refused, squirming with all his might.

“I’m holding still! I can’t see!”

“What does that have to do with being still?!”

Felix fumed.

Han Jisung made his way to the top of the ladder, rolling onto his back to catch his breath. It wasn’t like he wanted to drive Y/n to do this. Rather, he was just having a little fun, passing time, and essentially, getting to know her.

She was the girl he thought about spending quite a bit of his life with, after all.

He turned his head sideways, taking in the view of the mountains, the small forestry area, the big city on the other side. Dang it, he knew Y/n’s roof had a better view of the area. “Both of you...quit whining...for a sec…”

He fought to catch his breath. Normally he thought himself to be in pretty good shape, but maybe eating a whole cheesecake and slacking off last week for that Netflix marathon put him back a few steps. Diagonally above him, Hyunjin sighed, removing the last of Felix’s restraints. “Okay, there. You’re free now.”

Felix stood, immediately rubbing his shirt over his face and stretching his arms out wide, then his legs. He looked around.

“Something wrong?” Hyun asked. Felix began to sweat, visible from a mile away.

“Oh, gosh, you guys. I still can’t see. I think I’m legally blonde.”

“......” Hyunjin blinked. “You mean legally blind? Legally Blonde is a movie.” He glanced up at his sparkling dishwater-green hair. “Also, your hair’s green now. An ugly green. And shiny. Too shiny—”

“Both of you shhh,” Han griped, sitting up sideways. He pushed himself up all the way, stumbling diagonally as he hiked up toward the other side of the roof. “Has Jeongin come out yet? Where’s Y/n?”

“I don’t know,” Felix spoke, swatting at his surroundings. “I can’t see anything.”

“He obviously wasn’t talking to you,” Hyunjin piped. He leaned over the edge, examining the front porch, then the lawn. “...I don’t know either. I didn’t hear the front door but, then again, I couldn’t hear anything with Whines-A-Lot back here blubbering so loud.”

“Why are you in such a bad mood today? Normally you’re really sweet and chill. And why is everyone attacking me all of a sudden?! I’m the one that agreed to be the bait of this operation! Me!”

“Okay, okay,” Han waved his hands. He really hated being the responsible one, but with these two at each other's throats and Jeongin nowhere to be found, he really had no other choice. “Felix, go inside and see if you can find Jeongin. Or Y/n. Anyone.”

Felix scoffed, throwing his hands in the air like a tossed salad. “Oh, yeah. Send the blind guy in. That plan always works. Makes total sense!”

“Oh, right...uhh, Hyunjin?”

Hyunjin scrunched up his face. “No way. I’m not going in there. Breaking and entering is not going on my personal record. Pranks are fine, but I’m not violating the law. That’s your department, Mr. Fifteen-Unpaid-Speeding-Tickets.”

“......” Groaning, Han made his way to the top of the roof, kneeling just short of the peak to pull the lever. However, the door wouldn’t budge. “...It’s locked.”

“Locked?”

“Yeah, that’s what I said. Locked.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Shoot, why would she stop to lock the door? Now wh—”

“HAN JISUNG!!!”

All three college boys froze. Crouching, they whipped their heads around wildly. Even Felix. “What was that?!” He asked. “Was that Y/n?!”

“HAN!!!” Another called. Smaller, lighter, yet contradictingly more masculine. Hyunjin gasped.

“That sounded like Jeongin!”

Then, suddenly, all three missing voices meshed together, the chorus dark and booming: “LET US OUT! LET US OUT LET US OUT LET US OUT!!!”

Hyunjin jumped to his feet, kicking and pounding at the door. “Quick, open the door! We have to rescue Jeongin!”

Han’s jaw fell a little. “What about Y/n?”

“What about her?!” He grunted, hitting the door harder. “Jeongin is our first priority!”

“I thought you didn’t like breaking and entering,” Felix sneered from the back, still waving at the air like a recently-blind person would. His elder tsked, scowling.

“It’s not breaking and entering if someone’s life is in danger! Han, what the hell kind of trap did you put in there?!”

Han blinked, trying to process. Everything had gone South so quickly, curved in a direction he wasn’t expecting— he couldn’t think. His mind drew up blanks. Never in his thirteen years of pranking history had he ever not been in control of his own crafty work.

Now his work was playing a joke on him. “Han! Hello?! Earth to Jisung?”

“...I…”

“What did you do in there?!”

“......” He swallowed, barely regaining his composure. “I set up another net. Just a quick one, like the one from earlier today.”

“What?!” Hyunjin roared. “But that took me all morning! How did you do it in five minutes?!”

“I didn’t,” he replied. “I did it in four.”

Hyunjin deadpanned, smacking a hand over his face. “‘Kay…how did you manage to pull that off?”

His superior in the art of mischief fell back on his behind, staring out seamlessly at nothing in particular. Obnoxiously calm for the circumstances. “I’ve been sneaking into her house every now and then when she left the back door open. I’d set up a small part here, or a spring wire there, just small stuff out of the way that no one’d notice. They’ve hardly been home with midterms going around.”

“......” Hyunjin shook his head in disbelief. “Han, there’s no way they wouldn’t notice or not accidentally set something like that off until now.”

Han turned back to him in earnest. “I just set the final wire down this afternoon. The activation one. One of them— probably Y/n— tripped over it.”

“...If that’s true, then…”

Another sonorous from down below reached the canopies above: “LET US OUT!!!”

Hyunjin dropped back on all fours. “LET US IN!!!” he cried, pounding on the hardwood door. “Jeongin, buddy, it’s going to be oka—”

“Come on!” Han said, leaping to his feet. He grabbed Felix by the wrist, tugging the two along behind him before making a crash landing for the bushes. No time to waste now. He needed to get his act together, take a leap of faith that, maybe, if he played his cards right, Y/n could see him in a whole new light.

It would be a long shot. If he remembered to jump from the right spot, anyway. “AAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!” Both boys screamed, clinging to each other’s sides. They hit the shrubs, bouncing forward and rolling into Y/n’s front yard.

“...Was that a trampoline???” Felix asked. Han scoffed, shoving the two off of him.

“I planted an emergency escape device in her bushes last week, just in case.” He dusted himself off, screwing his head on straight while jogging to the front porch. “What do I look like, stupid or something?”

“......” Hyunjin watched him cross to the front door, lying upside down. “Do you want us to answer that?”

“...No.”

Han rang the doorbell. Stamped his foot. Remembered all house guests and tenants were currently tied up at the moment, slapped himself, panicked. He banged his fist against the door.

“Y/n?! It’s okay! Daddy’s going to fix this!”

Hyunjin made a noise (he was full of noises), tromping up the steps while Felix rolled himself around in the yard, trying to figure out which way was up and what he should do with himself. “Did you just call yourself—”

“Yes, now shut up.” Han dug around in his pocket, pulling out a key. “Heh heh heh…”

He jimmied the lock, twisting and turning the key this way and that. But the door wouldn’t budge, not even an inch.

“Sh*t!” He grabbed his hair. “Why isn’t this working?! I made copies of her keys three weeks ago!”

Hyunjin glared sideways. “You changed out her locks two weeks ago.”

Shoot, that was right. Han kicked the door, fuming. “Dang it! ...Ow!”

He was spent. Gone. Energy depleting. And now, his foot hurt. Spinning around he banged his head against the door, sliding down to sulk on his backside.

He hadn’t meant for things to go awry. He’d just wanted to mess with Y/n, see what made her tick, have some fun. Find out what she liked, what she didn’t like, maybe get up the nerve to ask her what she was doing for dinner next Saturday so he could mess with the food at her favorite restaurant and force her to come to a candle-lit dinner in his backyard instead, where he’d have her second-favorite takeout waiting on plates of gold he’d “borrowed” from Hyunjin’s aunt.

If only things would have worked out that way. “LET US OUT LET US OUT LET US OUT!!!” the house called.

Hyun and Han shared a pitiful look, plastering themselves to the walls and door. They had no choice. There was nothing left. “LET US IN LET US IN LET US IN!!!”

“HAN JISU— …”

Quiet. That was strange. What was it quiet?! What happened?! What could have—

...Oh no. What if…!

“DON’T HURT JEONGIN!” Han screamed, pressing his nose to the glass. “PLEASE! Y/N F/N PLEASE HYUNJIN WILL KILL ME IF SOMETHING HAPPENS TO HIM!!!”

“WHAT?!” Hyunjin yelled, pressing against the glass as well. “Move over, I can’t see! WHAT ARE YOU FIENDISH PEOPLE DOING TO HIM?!”

There was no response. Han began sweating profusely, feeling his heart ready to burst in a bad way. This was it. It was over. He’d have to call the cops to have them released, and then Han would probably go to jail for twenty-seven misdemeanors and a couple felony charges. Not to mention those unpaid speeding tickets.

Chink. Clunk. Creek.

A force against him gave way, the front door magically opening. As Han and Hyunjin fell forward, a blind, sparkling, green-haired man smiled down at them, standing at the other side.

-〤〤〤-

The clamouring coming from your front door set you on edge, wiggling and slashing at the ties that bound you. And F/n. And Jeongin.

The three of you piled on top of each other in an awkward heap, you being fortunate enough to have flipped on top. “Ow! Y/n, get your foot out of my eye!” F/n cried.

Apologetically, you shifted your weight, trying to give them room in the small net. Jeongin huffed as you did, making the most cumberous and uncomfortable face as you shifted your bottom over his backside, close to his head. “This is your fault for sneaking in here and trying to kidnap F/n,” you scolded, only feeling a little sorry given the circumstances.

He blushed, perplexingly so, carefully trying to claw his way to a corner that didn’t exist. “I, um...I’m sorry…”

Like that was enough to get the three of you out of this arrangement. Rolling your eyes, you focused your attention on the front door you could just barely see, tuning your ears to adjust and pick up on anything.

“What are they saying?” F/n asked. You shrugged, huffing and puffing disorderly.

“I don’t know. I can barely hear anything. They’re whispering. They keep looking over here, though.”

“Who opened the door?! How did they get in here???”

F/n was currently squished with their head facing the opposite direction, explaining their heighted insecurity and naggingness. You sighed, squinting and rocking your weight in order to make the small flexible cage sway to better see around the corner. “I think...Felix let them in. He must have used the back door or something.”

“Son of a b*tch, Y/n!!!” F/n quietly fumed. “This is why I always tell you to make sure both doors are locked! You never think to check the back door and it drives me crazy!!!”

“I know, I know okay?! Calm down! You’re gonna draw attention!”

“HAN!!!” Jeongin suddenly screamed. “FELIX! GET ME OUT OF THIS THING!!!”

Both you and F/n panicked. “SHHHHHHHH!!!”

He regarded the two of you like you were crazy. “Just five minutes ago you were screaming too!”

F/n hissed. “Yeah, well that was five minutes ago, and this is now!”

Jeongin sighed. “Listen, this is really uncomfortable for me, especially because you’re sitting...entirely too close to me,” he spoke, “so how about I make a deal with you two?”

“No way. I don’t make deals with demons. Or vipers, or monsters, or Fox-faced devils that sneak into our house and try to kidnap me!!!”

Jeongin sighed again, letting out a slight hiss of annoyance at the end. At the base of the stairs, Han and Hyunjin started making their ascent, Felix stumbling around a bit with a bandana now over his eyes before following after them.

“Oh shoot,” you whispered. “Here they come.”

Making his way around the net once, Han paused right square before you; and there it was, that evil flirtatious wink, tongue sweeping over his lips scarcely so. “S’up, gorgeous?”

Shoot me. I want to die.

Han poked your nose, making a little annoying sound effect and laughing when you teetered backwards, swatting away at the germs he left on your face. “Aww, I think someone doesn’t like their situation very much.”

“Lay off. Get us out of this stupid thing and then get the hell out. If you don’t, I’m calling the cops.”

Han chuckled and slapped his leg like you were just the cutest little thing to him. “Oh, alright, calm down princess. You’re just sour over falling for the same trick twice.”

It burned you how much truth there was to those words. You would have spit at him if F/n wasn’t at risk of being in the line of fire. “Just shut up and get us out of here. Take your friend with you.”

Tangled up behind you, Jeongin sputtered; you could feel him roll his eyes. “Gladly,” he muttered.

After admiring your pissed-off look for a few seconds, and Han taking a few selfies for his own selfish gain, Han and Hyunjin got right to work, snipping wires here, tugging at rope there. Eventually, after a few moments of unblissful trepidation and embarrassment, the net lowered gently, falling lifelessly about a foot above ground.

The three of you groaned, F/n having the wind knocked out of them for a second. Scampering and shoving off of each other, you turned away the moment you found your legs, brushing yourself off and walking down the hall a few paces. Your feet prickled with numbness, then faded and blood rushed through.

When you turned around to check on F/n and kick everyone else out, Han Jisung had already found his way to your face. “Hey there, gorgeous. All better?”

You scowled most irately, placing your hands on his chest to push him off and startling yourself when he wouldn’t budge, and your hands just...stayed there. “Get out of here. You got us out, now you’re no longer welcome.”

“Oh, was that all you needed from me?” He smiled. Almost tenderly. Or maybe it was, you didn’t know. “I’m hurt, Y/n. I thought maybe we could...talk more. Get to know one another.”

“What?!” You tried to see around him, but he mirrored your every step and movement. When you pulled your hands away, he latched onto your wrists, placing them back. His fingers smoothed over the backs of your hands, intertwining with yours. You gulped, a feeling in your gut exploding.

“This is nice,” he said softly, giving your hands a gentle squeeze. “Isn’t it?”

It most certainly was not nice. Not nice at all! ...Yet, you were having quite a bit of trouble telling him that. His hands were so soft and...rigid...even the small calluses that sprouted along his palms and outline were somehow oddly alluring, inviting you to stay.

You shivered, bristling all over. No, no. Get ahold of yourself Y/n. This can’t happen. I can’t go down like this.

Shaking your head you shoved yourself back instead, running two steps to the right...and slamming gently into the adjacent wall. Gently. Softly. Softly slamming.

What the hell, why was everything with Han Jisung so soft all of a sudden?! You bore your eyes up at him, seeing as he was now just...inches away from you...again...g-getting closer…

His nose brushed right up against yours. A breath caught in your throat, begging to scream. Everything else in your body was. He had slithered himself to press up against you.

You’re pretty sure, even if you couldn’t feel it, your face was the darkest shade of red right now. Han undoubtedly noticed too, simpering just a fraction from your lips. “What should we do now, princess? Should we…” He inched your waist forward. “...go next door?”

Next door. Next door, where the hellhole of disasters had started.

...Something about that line just didn’t sit right with you. Feeling as if the whole moment had been ruined (and good gravy you had to get out of this), you shimmied yourself a bit of wiggle room and shot your knee skyward, wincing as a howl of pain rang out in your ear. You kicked Han back, making a run for F/n…

...Who was again, gone. Everyone was gone.

Turning around, Han gave you a childish salute, that flirtatious wink following him all the way out the front door. You couldn’t do anything. Just observe him leave in shock.

Until you heard a thump from downstairs, and raced to find Felix feeling his way around the kitchen.

“Now, I know there’s a backdoor somewhere...it was in here when I came in…”

You bore your eyes into him. Smirked.

Five minutes later, his whines echoed all through the house and down the porch steps.

-〤〤〤-

It may not have been high noon, but that didn’t stop Hyunjin and Fox-face Jeongin from turning on an old western showdown score.

You stood on your side of the property line, Felix rebound though now standing at your side. If he was miffed about his hair and the overzealous glitter drawing attention to it, he didn’t say anything. Possibly because being temporarily blind was pulling all his attention away.

On the other side, about ten or twelve meters from the line, stood Han Jisung, in all his hellion, dark-profiled glory. F/n was bound and gagged beside him, looking like a tick about to pop. You’d never seen that vein before, throbbing above their forehead. Hyunjin and Jeongin observed from afar, amongst the safety of shade and porch railing.

You lifted the megaphone you’d brought back with you from the roof. “On the count of three,” you instructed, gripping Felix’s sleeve tight.

Han Jisung cackled, or his eyes did anyway, a sparkle of humor at play. “Alright. Hostage exchange on three.”

“Okay…”

You both paced exactly twenty-something steps until you were only two feet from the line.

“One…”

“Two…”

“...Thre—”

“Wait.”

Your mind did a little flip, attention spiraling upward. “What?”

The hellion next door smirked. “I have one condition.”

“Oh?” You sputtered. “So do I.”

“Ladies first.”

You deadpanned. “Stop intervening and disturbing my life and F/n’s sanity and I won’t call the cops.”

He laughed, a very hearty, joyful sound. It sort of...made your heart spin. “That’s fair. I can agree to those terms...if you agree to mine.” You scoffed.

“And what would that be?”

Han Jisung smiled. Brighter than the sun. For once, it was almost as if he was revealing a side of his persona to you he’d kept locked away all this time; he suddenly appeared to be genuine, sincere, and oh-so benevolent. Not to mention handsome. “Go on a date with me. Saturday, at five.”

“What?!”

The world came to a crash. Everything just seemed to stop, the birds even dropping like flies to gawk at the enigma that was Han Jisung. Behind him and to the left, Jeongin and Hyunjin stared at each other in bewilderment. Felix muttered some kind of disbelief beneath his breath. F/n looked like s/he really would pop.

“Mmm?!” They shrieked. Han chuckled, ruffling his hair away from his face and casting squinted eyes out over the neighborhood.

“Yeah, uh...I’ll pick you up at five, if you like. I mean, you have to, because this is a condition. My deal. Where we’re going is a surprise, but I can give you a hint.” He leaned forward, twitching his nose a bit. “There’s a lot of action going on in the color department, and it usually gives me an allergy attack. But, I figured you may enjoy watching my face fall apart.”

“.........”

Slowly, you adjusted your gaze over to F/n. They were shaking their head wildly, though limitedly, so as not to tip off anyone.

“.........” You turned your face back to Han Jisung. “...Make it five-thirty. I have an errand to run that day.”

He bit his lower lip to keep from smiling too much. “Deal. Okay, on three. One…”

“Two…”

“Three.”

You each pushed your captives over at the same time, Felix and F/n stumbling forward over the property line. Hyunjin and Jeongin raced down into the lawn while you quickly got to work untying and freeing your housemate.

S/he turned and looked to you with the utmost confusion and disappointment in their eyes. You smiled, sadly, and turning away watched as three of the four boys embraced and spat at each other, Hyunjin and Jeongin poking and teasing Felix about his hair, and Han Jisung watching you back with stars in his eyes. Once a hellion, it was as if a great fog had lifted over the valley, and now you could see he was both day and night. A myriad of sunlight, and a mischievous moon.

“You’re not really going on a date with him,” F/n scolded, walking in sync with you up the porch steps and in through the front door. You waited until they were safely inside and halfway to the kitchen for another drink, waving and even winking in Han Jisung’s direction. It caught him off guard, and you snickered at his confused stare.

“We’ll see,” is all you said, shutting the door behind you.

-〤〤〤-

Saturday, 5:25 p.m.

Your house mysteriously felt like the Island of the Lost.

“F/n! Have you seen my hairbrush?!”

Running back and forth in front of the TV, up and down the stairs, rummaging through both bathrooms, F/n sighed, annoyed at having their early-evening talk show interrupted. They set the TV on mute. “What are you looking for? Your hairbrush?”

You nodded, heading back towards the upstairs bath. F/n jumped up from a commercial break, following you.

“How did you manage to lose your hairbrush? Sheesh, Y/n, you’ve been forgetful all day.”

You turned toward the mirror, staring worrisome eyes at the curlers in your hair, the sloppily-applied two minute makeup job on your face. F/n noticed as well, giving a small pout as s/he crossed their arms, leaning against the doorframe. “Where are you going, anyway?”

Uh-oh. “Hmm...?”

You pretended not to hear that. F/n blinked, their face falling to an unimpressed state. “I asked, where are you going?”

“......”

Downstairs, the doorbell rang. Crap. It wasn’t five-thirty yet!

F/n turned toward the sound, their brows lifting in minor surprise. “Who could that be? Are you expecting a package or anything?”

They began wandering in the direction of the staircase, but you cringed, throwing yourself as a blockade. “Ahahahahahahaha! …” Sweat. “...I-I’ll get it. You should get back to your show!”

F/n gasped, pushing past you and gracefully making a sharp left just a few feet from the door. Phew.

You peered around the corner, trying to make out the silhouette through the foggy glass.

Tall-ish. A bit on the short side. Skinny? Seemingly masculine.

It had to be him. Panic struck you like a bat out of hell, scrambling to the bathroom and ripping the curlers out of your hair. You fought through three bottles of creams and mascara while juggling your toothbrush hanging out of your mouth, rinsing, spitting, and finally flipping your hair down, shaking it loose and flipping back over.

Oh yeah. Messy-chic look. Perfect. With a touch of gloss (or lipstick) you smoothed out your casual-dressy outfit before skipping downstairs and slipping on your favorite dress shoes at the door, purse slung over your bodice.

This was it. You discreetly shifted your eyes to the left. F/n was still inthralld in their talk show. Now was your chance for a clean getaway without any awkward accusations or encounters.

Taking a deep, measured breath, you gingerly opened the door, blowing it out on the exhale. Han Jisung stood in all his new-lighted glory, his back turned to you as he examined the neighborhood, waiting.

You gave a small cough, stepping out and locking up behind you. Han turned around, his eyes widening when he saw you. “Whoa...uh…”

“Yes?” Your gaze traveled down to the flowers in his hand. “Are those for me, or an apology to F/n?”

You both laughed, Han thrusting them forward a bit forcefully. An awkward color painted a ring around his face, across his ears and along the curves of his cheeks. “Uh, b-both, I guess. ...But, mainly for you.”

He was nervous. For real this time. You smiled, taking the small bouquet and burying your face into the petals. You inhaled deeply. “...Mmm...they smell really nice!”

You beamed. For maybe five seconds. After that, a spout of water soaked your forehead.

Han Jisung pressed his lips together, trying his darndest not to laugh. His eyes avoided you entirely, observing everything but your face. A moment later, he bolted, signalling for his groupies to turn on the sprinklers. Coffee rained down on both of your lawns, dyeing both sides murky Vanilla Latte.

You chased him down the porch steps, through the caffeinated shower, laughing.

-〤〤〤-

“...And that about wraps up our show for today!”

F/n flipped the TV off, turning their gaze to the window. Is it raining already?

As they approached the window, their jaw fell. They opened the window. “Y/N!!! HAN JISUNG!!!”

...It was no use.

Pulling up a chair, they fell to their knees, observing the bizarre weather in a moment of acceptance. They extended their mug over the windowsill, sighing as the caffeinated shower refilled their morning latte.

ღ Stray Kids M.List | M.List ღ

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stickyzombielight · 4 years ago

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Behind me

Peering and characters: OGP/Harry Potter, Ron Weasley/Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy, Albus Dumbledore, Lucius Malfoy Size: 30 pages, 7 parts Genres: Everyday life Romance Fantasy Fantasy Warnings: Violence OZHP Murders Spoilers... Other tags: Wizards / Sorceresses Fictional creatures Love/Hate Description: Don't walk behind me — maybe I won't lead you. Don't go ahead of me — maybe I won't follow you. Walk side by side, and we'll be one.

© Indian Wisdom Author's notes: So, I don't know how to write fan fiction at all. But! On fikbuka ended works that are dedicated to Harry/OZHP,and I thought that I should write something like this myself,because I hate the canon.

1.1 The beginning of the path

August 31, 1991.

The rain is always the same, it doesn't change, but we look at it differently. Autumn rain brings sadness and reflection, winter rain brings slush and swell, spring rain brings joy and thunder, inspiring reverence, summer rain often brings coolness and pulls you out of a hot day into a completely different space.

The young sorceress loved rain at any time of the year. He creates for her an incredible atmosphere of lightness and alienation, which is so often needed by every person.

How relaxing it is to watch the drops rolling down the window, people who have fallen under the "natural" shower, or just sit on the windowsill, plunging into their fairy-tale world, in which there is no evil, but harmony and good reigns.

- Maddie, honey… Come down quickly, " a melodious female voice called from the first floor of the house.

Just as the girl was about to answer, a loud thunder suddenly thundered, causing her to squeak in surprise and jump to the side.

"I'm coming, Mom!" Madeline shouted, and after another glance at the window, she hurried out of the room.

When she went downstairs, she saw a rather interesting picture: her mother was trying to insert candles with the inscription "Congratulations!" into the cake, and her father was licking the cream around the edges and smearing it on his wife's nose.

***

Fergus and Fridesvida Mortimer are the best parents in the world, and they are also talented wizards. They met while still students at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, despite the fact that they studied at different faculties. Father-Slytherin, and mother-Ravenclaw. According to my mother, my father always bullied her, but not because he didn't like her, but on the contrary, in this way he wanted to attract attention. Dad's parents-Richard Mortimer and Adeline-Fryderika Mortimer-never liked their daughter-in-law, and when they had a daughter, and the father decided to leave the family estate, they stopped having any relations with him.

***

Pausing at the doorway, Maddie giggled softly, drawing her parents ' attention.

"My dear! You took so long to get down. We've already thought of sending Crocus after you! Mom chirped, clapping her hands.

Fridesvida Mortimer is the most beautiful woman in the world. Despite her age, she looks like a young girl who has just begun to blossom. Her light brown, soft and silky hair was the envy of any woman, and her eyes were ... blue… With small flecks of emerald, they drive anyone nearby crazy.

Fergus Mortimer — a man with a stately figure, regular features and aristocratic appearance. His jet-black hair was always beautifully coiffed, his small moustache added charm to his face, and his green eyes, which stood out vividly against the background of his figure, aroused admiration and a certain envy. He was always the best-looking boy at school, and after that he remains a favorite for gossip among the ladies.

Madeline Mortimer is a mix of her parents. Genetics decided to play with her, and therefore the different eye color-blue and green is the highlight of the younger member of the family. Her shoulder-length black curly hair, upturned nose, and plump cheeks made her truly beautiful, incredible, and sweet.

- Today is a beautiful weather, I was looking at it ... - I answered and went closer to the table. On it were all sorts of goodies: cupcakes, rolls, fruit and my favorite sweets, and most importantly-a chocolate cake, with various swirls and zigzags, leaves and twigs.

— I still don't see how you can enjoy this nasty weather." Who would have thought that you like rain and dampness! My mother shouted, and put her hand on her forehead with an exaggerated sigh.

"Well, ma-am..." the curly — haired one drawled. — We've already discussed this. Before I could continue, there was another thunderclap, and I dropped the candy from my mouth in surprise.

Rain was rain, and loud noises always frightened little Mortimer. Sometimes, even after the pencil falls, it takes her a minute to recover, what can I say about the thunder.

"Oh-oh-oh... little Maddie is afraid of thunder," Dad drawled, and laughed out loud.

— I'm not afraid of anything!" It was just unexpected! Madeline shouted, wrinkling her nose and puffing out her cheeks as she sat down at the table.

"Of course, of course, you little coward —" my father squeaked in my voice, and threw a marshmallow in my daughter's direction.

- Dad! Mom! Tell him! - unable to stand it, the youngest of the family threw this very marshmallow at him and, raising her chin, grinned, - It serves you right!

"All right, stop messing around," Mom threatened with a finger and glared at Dad. Fergus raised two hands and continued to laugh.

Madeline is really happy. Their family has always been friendly. Of course, there are quarrels, but the conflict quickly passes after the pope pretends to grab his heart and pretend to be ill. She'd always wondered why he worked for the Ministry of Magic instead of some theater, a profession that suited him better.

"Baby..." my mother purred, and slowly walked over to my father, putting her hand on his shoulder. - Tomorrow you will enter a new stage of your life… And my father and I would like to have a little celebration, because you are already so big. Mom wiped away an imaginary tear and smiled. - Hogwarts is a great place where great people have studied and are studying, and I hope you will become one of them… We raised you right.

***

Maddie turned eleven in May. She was very much looking forward to this day, because, like all other children, the letter from Hogwarts must be delivered on time. For a very long time, the girl sat near the front door and looked through the mail hole. And so, at exactly 12: 00, the coveted envelope flew into the Mortimer house, and to a joyful squeak, Madeline ran to her parents ' room. On the same day, the whole family went to Diagon Alley to buy things for the next school year. Of course, she had already walked the streets of Diagon Alley, and each time she did not want to leave there. These old bookstores, the famous Ollivander wand shop, the Gringotts Bank, and the robed wizards all fueled the fire of the desire to go to the School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

And she was also worried about the question: "What faculty will they determine?". Slytherin ... Gryffindor ... Hufflepuff ... Ravenclaw ... it's so hard to choose one thing, because each department is good in its own way. After numerous attempts to weigh all the pros and cons, the young sorceress could not come to a single decision. Even talking to her father didn't help her make such a difficult and responsible decision.

"Honey, I understand that this is a difficult choice that can really change your future life. The entire Mortimer family studied and graduated from Slytherin, and I'd like you to be there, too. But we are different, and if you don't want to be in this department, the Sorting Hat will take your wish into account.»

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After this conversation, it became even harder, but curly was sure that tomorrow everything would be fine, and she would make the right choice.

"Maddie?" Where are you hovering? "Honey, I think she's gone to Hogwarts ahead of time," my father snapped in front of me.…

- What? Madeline woke up. - Dad! I didn't go anywhere, I was just thinking. I muttered back and hurriedly started eating my birthday cake.

***

After a while, when the cake was finished and the plates were cleared away, Madeline went up to her room and began to look carefully at her room. It was medium in size: yellow wallpaper with a simple pattern made the room visually larger, to the right of the door was a small desk, on which were scattered notebooks and some other accessories. A large black bookcase that didn't fit into the room at all, a gray little sofa that the girl had chosen herself and kept with it even after moving in, and a small bed that was so soft that Maddie often couldn't get up.

The girl went to the desk where the wand was lying.

"The Magic Wand… The real... my ... " - thought the girl. She still couldn't believe that in just a few hours she would be going to the school of her dreams. Maddie made a promise that she would learn best and please her parents. She really wanted to be a Great Sorceress.

After twirling her wand and looking at it from all sides, her gaze darted to Katie, the owl that had been bought for her in Diagon Alley. She was so small, with a brownish-white coloring and big golden eyes. Madeline had always had a special connection with animals, even though she had never had a pet before Katie.

Smiling at the owl, the girl placed her wand on the table and began to prepare for bed.

"Honey?" "What's that?" came a voice from the other side of the door, and the next second my mother's head popped out."May I?" — what is it? " she asked, to which she received a nod from her daughter. She crept into the room, and Maddie smiled. She didn't have any makeup on now, she looked so homely, but that didn't stop her from being beautiful. Sitting carefully on the edge of the bed, Frideswida leaned over and kissed her daughter on the forehead, still smiling. In her heart, she was happy for her, because Medeline reminded her so much of her childhood, when she also opened her cherished letter with a sinking heart and waited for her departure for school.

- My dad and I are so proud of you... know that no matter what choice you make on the distribution, we love you and will always support you! Mom whispered.

— I know… It's just that I'm scared — " the sorceress replied, and felt tears begin to gather in the corner of her eyes. She was really scared of the distribution. She couldn't stop thinking about it.

- Honey… Don't worry... " her mother hugged her daughter, and the girl felt a soothing warmth. Pulling away, she placed her hands on Madeline's cheeks and looked into her eyes. - Listen to your heart… You've always been a responsible and serious girl, so I understand you. Trust your sixth sense and you won't make a mistake — " she said, and with another hug, she quietly left the room, saying good night.

"Thank you," Maddie whispered, and a few minutes later she was lost in the realm of Morpheus, looking forward to tomorrow.

#harry potter fanfics

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niksfiks · 5 years ago

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Gotta Get It Right: Chapter 11

PAIRING: Loki/OFC

RATING: Mature

NOTES/WARNINGS: Trigger warning: mentions of dubcon, violence, PTSD, sexual assault, and physical abuse in later chapters.

Also on Ao3

Feedback is always appreciated (just being an attention whore screaming for comments/reblogs). Taglist is open

Tagging @fandom-and-feminism @fadingcoast @igotloki @mrshiddleston-uk @mischievousbellerina @amwolowicz

Chapter 11: The Dungeons Below

The mind...is a fragile thing. Takes only the slightest tap to tip it in the wrong direction. Charles Xavier, Dark Phoenix (2019)

Loki suppressed a shudder upon entering the prison block. He was all too familiar with the cells, having spent far more time in them than he ever wanted to admit. Those who now occupied this prison were criminals, tried, and convicted for their crimes. He never should have been held, much less beneath the palace. He had tried to save Asgard from the Jotunheim, and from his brother’s idiotic lust for war. That business on Midgard with the Chitari had not been his responsibility. Even if it had, Odin had no right...

He stopped himself mid-thought, refusing to allow the memory to progress. Things had been set right with Odin gone, Thor off-world, perhaps never to return, and Loki firmly ensconced on the throne of Asgard. Regardless of anything else the woman had done, she had cemented his right to rule. And that alone was reason enough for keeping her alive. The other reasons he kept to himself, forgetting them when he finally reached her cell.

The woman sat on the floor with legs folded, her back against the wall. Her hands lay relaxed on her knees, palms turned upward as if to receive something. Loki watched her for some time, focusing on the slightest changes in her expression. He wasn’t sure if she was lost in a vision or simply dreaming, but her brow remained furrowed while her lips moved in silent speech. Just as he decided to leave, her eyes blinked open and bore straight through him.

“What?”

“Hardly a complimentary greeting, Midgardian.”

“If it’s a compliment you’re after, maybe you should visit your harem.”

Loki smirked. “We do not practice such archaic beliefs here.”

“Sounds like a personal problem.”

“I would think,” he said, approaching her cell, “that you would be more appreciative of the one who saved your life.”

“You’d think,” she responded absently, standing in a swift motion. “But technically, you’re not the one who saved me, are you?”

Loki stood silent.

“Figured as much. So the question remains: what?”

“Are you attempting to ask what it is that I desire by visiting you here? Or, perhaps, do you mean to inquire of the time?”

Aleksa rolled her eyes.

“There are so many possible variants of questions beginning with ‘what’, I couldn’t possibly list them all.” He leaned toward her. “You wouldn’t live that long.”

“Except for the part where you told your people to inject me with whatever happy juice it is that makes you immortal-ish. So I appear to have plenty of time. By all means, ramble away.”

Loki’s brow quirked as he wondered just how long she’d been feigning unconsciousness.

“What is your name?”

“Haven’t figured that out already? You’re losing your touch.” she scoffed.

“You proceed from the assumption that I haven’t.”

Aleksa shrugged, her arms folded.

“Regardless, I thought Midgardian soldiers were trained to recite their name and identifying number over and over when questioned. No matter. The data found on your identification tags has proven quite useful.”

Her hand instinctively went to her neck, searching for a chain that wasn’t there.

“Petterson is quite the surname. Perhaps I should just call you ‘pet’.”

“Only if you have a death wish,” she snarled as she stepped closer to the force field.

“Pet, it is, then.” Her jaw clenched as he grinned. “There will come a time that your little excursions will wear my patience thin.”

“Stop chasing me and it won’t be a problem anymore. Besides, seems to me that your guards need more exercise now and again.”

“Now and again?” he scoffed. “Are you aware that you’ve attempted seventeen escapes in three months?”

“And made it outside the walls of... whatever-this-is... fourteen of those seventeen times.” Her voice grew distant. “I still need to step up my game.”

“Your game? Quite the shame to waste such extraordinary talents on a... game.”

“But you’d have me play yours.”

“This is no game, pet.”

“Then what is it, Jotunn?” Aleksa growled.

Loki ignored the insult and grinned, satisfied that he was wearing her down. “Opportunity.”

“For what?”

“Well, that remains to be seen, doesn’t it? You are obviously a warrior of considerable expertise, and I admit to being quite intrigued by your,” he paused, “handling of the Tesseract. Certainly, there are other talents that remain hidden.”

“All in service of Asgard, no doubt.” Her voice soft, she added, “Or did you have something more personal in mind?”

Loki was suddenly aware of the difference in height between them as he looked down at her, trying to ignore the sightline straight to her cleavage. “I’m sure we could come to some sort of an arrangement.”

“Fuck off.” An admonition that sounded both sultry and threatening.

“An insult, the typical human response.” he balked. “Why unleash your hatred on me? Was it not your beloved SHIELD that sent you here to fetch those poor, lost academics? And was it not your decision alone to challenge me to duel in exchange for their lives?”

“Just like it’s your decision to keep coming after me every time I escape.” She returned to the back wall, sliding down to the floor. “Maybe you should find a hobby.”

“Oh, I’ve already found one. And it’s proving most entertaining.”

“I repeat,” she said with a sigh, “fuck off. Especially if you’re offended by typical human insults.” Aleksa glared at the sarcastic smile creeping across his face, then decided to disengage. He wanted her attention and she was going to withhold it.

“You can’t ignore me forever, pet.” Loki stared at her, noting the timing of the rise and fall of her chest. His mind wandered to the flesh beneath the tunic, what it might feel like against his own skin.

“It pains me,” he said with a shake of his head to return himself to the moment, “to see a creature of your considerable abilities left down here to rot, but, if that is what you wish...”

With no response, Loki sighed, turned, and made his way to the corridor.

“Oh,” he paused, speaking over his shoulder, “thank you for not instigating another riot during your last escape. It made finding you so much easier.”

He heard the slightest change in the hum of the force fields surrounding the cell before something hard hit him in the back of the head. He spun to find her still seated. The cup that had been in the cell with her now lay on the floor next to his feet. He picked it up, then looked back at her. She was watching him, her facial features relaxed, almost inviting him to react. He only grinned and resumed his journey out of the prison.

Aleksa sat motionless for some time after Loki’s departure. Her mind raced with new plans for escape mixed with memories that felt more like dreams. She tried to think of simple things like the places or people she knew to settle her mind, but even that failed. Her childhood home in Charleston morphed into an even smaller hut near a cliff. Stifling hot summers spent in band camp became much cooler days walking shorelines with her mother.

Except it wasn’t her mother. Her mother died in an accident. Or was it a raid?

Blue skin.

Red eyes.

So much ice. And fire.

Fire.

“C’mon, Colonel. All you have to do is light the fire. Then you and your friends can go home.”

Aleksa’s eye squeezed shut, trying to block out the vision. They were nightmares, illusions. None of it was real.

Was it?

The desert heat was real. The smell of spice and gunpowder and whatever chemicals she’d been exposed to were real.

“Just light it. You can do that, can’t you?”

She began a breathing exercise, a deep inhale followed by a slow, steady exhale while summoning a white candle in her mind. All she had to do was light it and keep the flame steady.

“The flame will cease to flicker when your mind is calm.” A soft voice, neither male nor female.

“Light the pyre. ” Another voice, definitely male and definitely malicious.

Breathe in.

“You can control matter, control the energy that binds it together.”

Breathe out.

“Just a spark. That’s all. I’d hate for you to have the deaths of anyone else on your hands.”

Breathe.

“What d’ya say?”

“No,” she growled. “Better a few soldiers than thousands of innocents.”

“Never let your gifts be abused.”

How many are dead because of me?

“Poor Rose. Her death will excruciatingly slow without anyone to ensure she receives the proper treatments.”

Rose?

Her mind wandered to a baby, small with bright blue eyes. A child become woman become old, the blue never fading in her eyes, regardless of how distant they became.

Sweet little Rose.

She saw Erik’s face, smiling as he cradled the babe. The smile turned evil as his face morphed into Malick’s.

“Leave her out of this.”

Just kill me instead.

“Then bring me what I want.”

Aleksa’s eyes flew open and she stood, pulling energy from the floor into her body. The lights in her cell flickered, followed by the lights in surrounding cells. The block fell dark for a split second then returned to normal lighting.

None of the other prisoners noticed that the cell at the end of the row was suddenly unoccupied.

D’Varst, on the other hand, thought on all he’d witnessed for a moment before making his way out of the dungeons.

#gotta get it right #Loki/OFC #loki fanfic #Loki Laufeyson #Loki Friggason #niksfiks #nikkalia

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ssa-montgomery · 5 years ago

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Behind Closed Doors Chapter 3

Word Count: 2350

Story Summary: After a drunken night together Emma and Regina seem to fall into a hidden relationship. Dinners that aren’t quite dates, nights together that they pretend never happened. No one knows, and it’s perfect. Though it seems somewhere along the line Regina started to feel more than she ever imagined she would.What will happen to this relationship, as well as their friendship when Emma brushes it off as casual and begins to date Killian? A heartbroken Regina and an oblivious Emma attempt to fix it. What if people find out what happens behind the closed doors of Regina’s home? Can Regina win back Emma’s heart?

Characters For This Chapter: Regina x Emma, David, Ruby, Granny

Warnings For Story: Angst, Smut, Heartbreak, Swearing, Alcohol use

A/N: This is a bit more of a casual chapter but the next one is certainly going to be eventful! I really appreciate all the support on this story so far, your comments truly mean a lot to me. I hope you enjoy this new chapter :D

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Feedback is what motivates me to work so please let me know what you think! Reblogs are also greatly appreciated.

Taglist is open!

Emma pushed the door to Granny's open and stepped in out of the cold letting it swing shut behind her. It was her first day back at work since that night at the bar, and her first time seeing Ruby since then. She was almost nervous to see her. At first, she had thought about just skipping lunch and finishing up the paperwork they needed to drop off at Regina's office in a few hours but she never missed going to Granny's to pick up her lunch when she was working. She knew Ruby, she wouldn't give up until she got some information out of her about what had happened that night and honestly, she had no idea what to tell her. She would be able to tell Emma was lying from a mile away.

"Well, if it isn't our little escape artist." Ruby laughed cocking an eyebrow at Emma and crossing her arms over her chest. "Where have you been?"

"Oh please Ruby you were too busy with Dorothy to even notice I had taken off." Emma teased walking over to take a seat at the counter. Ruby dropped the towel she was holding down onto the worktop behind her, her previous work seemingly abandoned now and leaned against the counter.

"Excuse me Ruby but I don't remember saying you were on your break!" The door to the kitchen swung open and Granny walked out with a plate in one hand, the other placed firmly on her hip.

"I'm taking Emma's order!" Ruby countered quickly pulling out her notepad and pen that were tucked into her apron as if that had been her plan all along.

"A grilled cheese with a side of onion rings and large hot cocoa to go, it's already on." Granny recited shooting Ruby a look that she said she didn't believe a word of her excuse. "Did you forget she comes in practically every day?"

"You know me so well." Emma chuckled, it was true her order was always the same ever since she had first come to Storybrooke. When she had first arrived it had felt strange to have Granny remember her order whenever she came in. Before coming to Storybrooke she had never had a set routine, between moving around and being out of town for work she was never in the same place long enough to become a regular. Now it was comforting to know that Granny would have her food waiting for her every day.

"Fifteen minutes Ruby," Granny said. "Then it's back to work."

"Okay well you heard her Emma, you have fifteen minutes to spill everything that happened the other night." Ruby grinned tapping her red nails against the countertop. Ruby had been trying to get Emma to find someone for months now claiming that she needed a break from her constant workflow as both the saviour and the sheriff. It had created a few awkward moments of Ruby having an "emergency" and leaving Emma alone at a bar with some of Ruby's friends that she barely knew in hopes that she might hit it off with one of them.

"There's really not much to tell, I got very drunk and then." Emma paused for a moment. She wanted to tell Ruby the truth or as much of the truth as she could. She was her best friend and she hated lying to her but this wasn't just her secret, it was Regina's too and she wanted to respect her privacy. "I went home with someone."

"I knew it!" Ruby exclaimed, her high pitched shout attracting a few stares from people in the diner. Noticing the attention she had attracted she cleared her throat before speaking again lowering her voice so no one could overhear them. "So who was it?"

"I can't tell you that Ruby, I promised I wouldn't tell anyone." Emma shook her head dropping her gaze to the counter as she waited for Ruby's response. There was a nervous knot building in her stomach, she was afraid she would say too much and Ruby would figure it out on her own.

"Oh fine. Were they hot? Wait, was it a woman?"

"Yes it was a woman and yes, they were insanely hot." Emma nodded letting out a slight chuckle. Ruby's question brought back the image of Regina in that well-fitted corset and she found her mind starting to wander back to the way she had looked that night.

"Damn, I'm proud of you." Ruby laughed with a slight shake of her head. Her eyes quickly looked around them making sure no one was within earshot before she asked. "So, was it good?"

"Ruby!" Emma wasn't easily embarrassed and she was glad she wasn't with a friend like Ruby because she always asked what was on her mind, no matter what it was.

"What? I just want to make sure you ditched us for a good reason."

Emma rolled her eyes and glared at Ruby who just chuckled and shrugged her shoulder. Emma was grateful for Granny walking over then with her takeaway bag in one hand and her cup of hot cocoa in the other. She placed them down on the counter in front of her and smiled warmly.

"There you go Emma, we'll see you tomorrow?"

"Same time as always." Emma grinned. "Thanks, Granny."

Emma hopped down off her stool and pulled out her wallet, handing the money over to Ruby. While Ruby entered the money into the cash register Emma gathered up her things, her stomach rumbling at the smell of the freshly cooked food. When Ruby turned back around Emma beckoned her over to the counter again. She pushed herself up onto her toes and leaned over the counter to whisper to Ruby.

"It was incredible."

Emma swiftly pulled away again shooting an innocent smile over her shoulder at Ruby as she pulled the door open and moved to step outside. She let out a laugh at the wide-eyed look of shock on Ruby's face at her comment.

"I will get a name out of you Emma Swan!" Ruby called after her.

~~~

"Regina."

"What?" Emma's head snapped up from the work in front of her to see David standing at her desk. The tone of voice David said her name in sending a wave of fear through her body.

"We need to go to Regina's office, to drop off the paperwork. I've been talking to you for the last five minutes Emma were you listening at all?" David sighed.

"Right. Yeah. Sorry, just lost in thought." Emma shook her head gathering up the last of the loose papers on her desk and slid them into the file. She threw on her jacket and tucked the file under her arm walking around the desk to join David. "Better not keep the Queen waiting."

The trip to Regina's office was quick and they spent most of the time discussing the new plan they wanted to propose to Regina, the same plan that had them swamped with paperwork and planning for the last week and a half. Both Emma and David had decided that only having two sheriffs in the town wasn't enough, especially with them both trying to balance their shifts so they could spend time with their children. Mary Margaret had returned to teaching so David needed more time off to take care of Neal and Emma needed her weekends free for when Henry was home. David had suggested that they could hire some new deputies and Emma had immediately been on board but they still needed to run it by Regina.

Emma walked into Regina's office, tapping her knuckles on the glass panel of the door when she already had it half-open. It took Regina a moment to realise who had walked in but after that, it only took a second for her to reach up and snatch her glasses off, quickly throwing them down behind one of the photo frames on her desk hoping Emma hadn't noticed but the grin plastered across her face said differently.

"Never thought I'd see the Evil Queen wearing reading glasses." Emma chuckled. "Is there not a spell for that?"

"Careful Miss Swan," Regina warned pointing the pen in her hand at Emma. "What are the two of you doing here anyway?"

"We have the request forms filled out for our proposal," David explained.

"Oh of course, why don't you take a seat we can talk a bit about this," Regina suggested.

Emma pulled out one of the chairs in front of Regina's desk and sat down. She looked at the photo frame she had tried to hid her glasses behind and smiled at the photo. It was of her, Regina and Henry from last summer. She still remembered that day so clearly. They were sitting on the grass in Regina's back garden with Henry between them, they both had one arm wrapped around him and Emma had stretched her hand around to rest on Regina's shoulder. She remembered the warmth of the sun as they had all sat outside drinking, it had been Henry's idea to throw a barbeque for the whole family and Regina had offered to host since she had the most space. The night had ended with Emma, Regina and David all in the pool still fully dressed after David had surprised Emma and tried to push her in. In her panic, she had grabbed Regina's arm and dragged her in with her, to say she was angry was an understatement. They had both managed to pull David in with them after that.

"So, if you were to take on more deputies for the station who are you considering?" Regina asked.

"We were considering possibly opening it up for people to apply but Robin and his Merry Men have been asking for work so we thought maybe some of them," David said.

"I was considering Robin and Will Scarlet in particular. Robin has helped us out a few times and I think given the chance Will could be a good fit. The Merry Men already do their own patrols around the woods we could possibly expand their borders. They've shown interest in the past and I think they'd be more than willing." Emma explained.

Regina had propped her elbows up on her desk, resting her chin on her joined hands. She was watching Emma closely as she spoke seemingly ignoring that David was even sitting next to her. It felt strange that her first proper conversation with Regina since accepting the dinner invite was a work meeting. They were a constant part of each others routine with work and Henry and even if they didn't see each other they were always in contact most days through messages or phone calls but it had been a few days now with no talking. Once Emma had finished talking Regina nodded and flipped the file open to scan her eyes over the paperwork.

"Well it certainly seems like you have all the paperwork for this filled out properly but I'll have a thorough look over it. Personally I think it would work out nicely for the town so I'll see what I can do." Regina smiled at them both.

"Thank you for this Regina." David nodded a look of relief washing over his face. Emma knew how nervous he had been about this as he really needed the time off. "I have to go pick up Neal now so I'll talk to you later but I really do appreciate this. Emma, are you coming along?"

"Actually I going to stay and talk to Regina, just want to make sure Henry's ready for his trip with you this weekend. I'll see you back at the loft."

"Okay."

Emma watched David make his way out of the office and waited until she was certain that he was at least halfway down the hall before turning back to face Regina. The last person she needed to find out about what had happened was her father.

"Is everything alright Emma?" Regina asked. Emma could hear the slight hint of worry in her face and she noticed the way nervously picked at the notebook on her desk. Emma offered her a reassuring smile before she spoke.

"Everything's fine. I was just wondering if this dinner on Friday has a dress code?"

"No Emma." She laughed, any nervousness that had been there melting away. "You're red leather and jeans will do just fine. It's just a casual dinner and a chance for us to talk about what happened."

"Right so I don't need to break out any of Mary Margaret's ball gowns, got it." Emma nodded trying her best to make a serious face but she couldn't hide the grin tugging at the corner of her mouth.

"I mean you can if you'd prefer. I'm sure I could dig out some of my old ones, make it a formal event." Regina teased.

"As much as I would like to see you wear another Evil Queen leather corset to dinner I think I'll save the ball gown for another day."

Regina caught her lip between her teeth and a light red tint crept up her neck at Emma's comment. She was beautiful. Emma couldn't help but think it as she watched her tuck her hair behind her ear. That night was the first time Emma had ever said it out loud to Regina. The first time she had looked her in the eyes and felt she could.

"I should probably get going," Emma said finally standing up. She pushed her chair back to its usual place and leaned against the front of the desk. Reaching behind the photo frame she picked up Regina's glasses and looked down at them. They were a simple black frame that suited her. She lifted them up and slowly slid them back onto Regina's face. Her fingers gently brushed across her cheeks as she pushed them up and she felt Regina lean into the touch. "They look good on you."

"I'll see you on Friday Emma,"

Taglist: @thewaywardimpala @waknatious @sapphiccyanide @herstory1789 @strugglepoof

#once upon a time #once upon a time fanfic #once upon a time fandom #once upon a time fanfiction #ouat #ouat fanfiction #ouat ff #ouat fandom #swan queen #swan queen fanfic #swan queen fandom #swan queen fanfiction

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somegirlsnerdywords2 · 5 years ago

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Anime i’ve Watched

That begin with a S (Part 4)!

Yep this is how i’m going to bring over all the anime and manga i’ve watched and posted about on the old blog. It’s not so detailed but it will have to do. Anything new I watch or read from this point on will have their own posts.

SoniAni: Super Sonico The Animation:

Genres: Music, Slice of Life

Synopsis: Super Sonico is a clutzy, adorable, and well-endowed 18-year old girl. She's a complete sucker for anything cute, especially stray cats, all of which she giddily adopts. However, though Sonico should be enjoying a carefree and simple lifestyle as a young college student, her life is really anything but easy: she must balance being a professional model, working part-time at her grandmother's restaurant, and practicing guitar and performing concerts with her friends Suzu Fujimi and Fuuri Watanuki in their band, First Astronomical Velocity—all while attending college. SoniAni: Super Sonico the Animation follows Sonico as she faces daunting challenges in her search for her place in the world, even when her days are brimming with love and happiness. [Written by MAL Rewrite]

My Rating: 7/10

Finished airing in 2014 with 12 episodes.

My Thoughts: For a while there I was collecting Sonico figures, still have most of them... though a few did break while moving unfortunately. About the anime though? Wasn’t all that amazing. What did you expect though really?

Soul Eater:

Genres: Action, Fantasy, Comedy, Supernatural, Shounen

Synopsis: Death City is home to the famous Death Weapon Meister Academy, a technical academy headed by the Shinigami—Lord Death himself. Its mission: to raise "Death Scythes" for the Shinigami to wield against the many evils of their fantastical world. These Death Scythes, however, are not made from physical weapons; rather, they are born from human hybrids who have the ability to transform their bodies into Demon Weapons, and only after they have consumed the souls of 99 evil beings and one witch's soul. Soul Eater Evans, a Demon Scythe who only seems to care about what's cool, aims to become a Death Scythe with the help of his straight-laced wielder, or meister, Maka Albarn. The contrasting duo work and study alongside the hot headed Black☆Star and his caring weapon Tsubaki, as well as the Shinigami's own son, Death the Kid, an obsessive-compulsive dual wielder of twin pistols Patty and Liz. Soul Eater follows these students of Shibusen as they take on missions to collect souls and protect the city from the world's threats while working together under the snickering sun to become sounder in mind, body, and soul. [Written by MAL Rewrite]

My Rating: 7.5/10

Finished airing in 2009 with a total of 51 episodes.

My Thoughts: The series that reignited my love of anime once I became an adult! Which reflecting on that now seems a bit odd but whatever! It’s been so long since i’ve last watched it that I can’t say for certain how good the actual series is but i’m positive it will forever hold a special place in my heart! Which is extremely unhelpful to anyone looking for some info to aid in their decision to check this title out. Sorry!

Summer Wars:

Genres: Sci-fi, Comedy, Film

Synopsis: OZ, a virtual world connected to the internet, has become extremely popular worldwide as a spot for people to engage in a large variety of activities, such as playing sports or shopping, through avatars created and customized by the user. OZ also possesses a near impenetrable security due to its strong encryption, ensuring that any personal data transmitted through the networks will be kept safe in order to protect those who use it. Because of its convenient applications, the majority of society has become highly dependent on the simulated reality, even going as far as entrusting the system with bringing back the unmanned asteroid explorer, Arawashi. Kenji Koiso is a 17-year-old math genius and part-time OZ moderator who is invited by his crush Natsuki Shinohara on a summer trip. But unbeknownst to him, this adventure requires him to act as her fiancé. Shortly after arriving at Natsuki's family's estate, which is preparing for her great-grandmother's 90th birthday, he receives a strange, coded message on his cell phone from an unknown sender who challenges him to solve it. Kenji is able to crack the code, but little does he know that his math expertise has just put Earth in great danger. [Written by MAL Rewrite]

My Rating: 10/10

A film released in 2009.

My Thoughts: Interesting style and an enjoyable story. I film worth giving a watch!

Sword Art Online:

Genres: Action, Game, Adventure, Romance, Fantasy

Synopsis: In the year 2022, virtual reality has progressed by leaps and bounds, and a massive online role-playing game called Sword Art Online (SAO) is launched. With the aid of "NerveGear" technology, players can control their avatars within the game using nothing but their own thoughts. Kazuto Kirigaya, nicknamed "Kirito," is among the lucky few enthusiasts who get their hands on the first shipment of the game. He logs in to find himself, with ten-thousand others, in the scenic and elaborate world of Aincrad, one full of fantastic medieval weapons and gruesome monsters. However, in a cruel turn of events, the players soon realize they cannot log out; the game's creator has trapped them in his new world until they complete all one hundred levels of the game. In order to escape Aincrad, Kirito will now have to interact and cooperate with his fellow players. Some are allies, while others are foes, like Asuna Yuuki, who commands the leading group attempting to escape from the ruthless game. To make matters worse, Sword Art Online is not all fun and games: if they die in Aincrad, they die in real life. Kirito must adapt to his new reality, fight for his survival, and hopefully break free from his virtual hell. [Written by MAL Rewrite]

My Rating: 8.5/10

Finished airing in 2012 with a total of 25 episodes.

My Thoughts: Loved this season. I thought it was super freaking cool and unique the first time around... I was also pretty new to anime at this point but whatever, I enjoyed it and I won’t apologize for that.

Sword Art Online II:

Genres: Action, Game, Adventure, Romance, Fantasy

Synopsis: A year after escaping Sword Art Online, Kazuto Kirigaya has been settling back into the real world. However, his peace is short-lived as a new incident occurs in a game called Gun Gale Online, where a player by the name of Death Gun appears to be killing people in the real world by shooting them in-game. Approached by officials to assist in investigating the murders, Kazuto assumes his persona of Kirito once again and logs into Gun Gale Online, intent on stopping the killer. Once inside, Kirito meets Sinon, a highly skilled sniper afflicted by a traumatic past. She is soon dragged in his chase after Death Gun, and together they enter the Bullet of Bullets, a tournament where their target is sure to appear. Uncertain of Death Gun's real powers, Kirito and Sinon race to stop him before he has the chance to claim another life. Not everything goes smoothly, however, as scars from the past impede their progress. In a high-stakes game where the next victim could easily be one of them, Kirito puts his life on the line in the virtual world once more. [Written by MAL Rewrite]

My Rating: 7.5/10

Finished airing in 2014 with a total of 24 episodes.

My Thoughts: And then they lost me, while mostly in the 2nd half. Not as enjoyable as the first season.

#soniani: super sonico the animation #anime #soul eater #summer wars #film #sword art online

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xxbyimm · 6 years ago

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The brave and little lion

This a diamond in the rough, but I still hope you like it. xo

The brave and little lion

Summary: Fíli tells the tale of his first dagger.

Tags: @theincaprincess @fizzyxcustard @soradragon @deepestfirefun and @legolaslovely @yes-captainstark @burningcoffeetimetravel Let me know if you want to be added to or removed from my taglist!

Warnings: Protective Fíli. Mild violence.

A full moon shone on the hastily set up camp, the distant light illuminating the unlikely group of dwarves, a hobbit and a wizard gathered around a fire. Although the crickets were chirping loudly and leaves rustled as a light breeze of wind passed through, it was a quiet night. Everyone was fast asleep. The only sounds within their settlement were the crackling flames and the occasional snore.

The eldest prince of Durin’s folk was the only one awake, for had taken the first watch. Settled in front of the fire, he drained the last of his ale that Bombur had provided him with. He stretched his back and went back to watching his comrades. It had been a long and tiring day. When uncle Thorin finally had ordered them to set up camp, everyone had breathed a sigh of relief and quickly started executing his demands before the king could change his mind.

Speaking of which… Even uncle, the seasoned warrior who usually remained in a semi-vigilant state whether someone else had watch duty or not, seemed to be sleeping soundly. Fíli smiled softly. Although uncle wasn’t that vocal about his emotions, the prince knew the brother of his mother was proud of the dwarf he had become, and he trusted his nephew with his life. The fact that he let his guard down, was speaking volumes.

Fíli reached for a freshly cut log and just bent forward to put it into the fire, when a sharp, tearing pain hit him in his lower abdomen. A low his escaped him. His instinct took over and he jumped to his feet, while drawing the first dagger he could get his hands on.

All was quiet.

Fíli scanned his surroundings and crept towards the edge of the camp. Everything remained silent. When he finally was absolutely sure there was no luring threat, he sat down near the fire again. For a moment there, he had expected to find an arrow or knife sticking out of his gut, but his clothing was still intact.

What the…

Did he just make a rookie mistake? The prince reached in his coat, in search of the culprit. All the knives he had on him seemed to be in place, except for… He smirked when he discovered the tiny pointy blade that up until recently had been safely tucked away in the seam of his coat under the belt. His fingers working carefully not to tear the hole it had made any further, he retrieved it from its’ hiding place.

Lesson number one for warriors: make sure any lethal weapons you carry on you, are safely wrapped up for transport. He thought he had been careful, that his safety knife wasn’t that dangerous, but there he was, being stabbed by his own dagger.

He smiled and watched the blade as it lay in his hand. This was the first knife he ever owned and it meant a great deal to him. But he must have been about eleven (or twelve, tops) when he finally learned about its’ special origin. He remembered it like it was yesterday…

It was a typical summer afternoon in the Blue Mountains. The sun stood high in the sky, burning on the backs of the villagers who were venturing outdoors. The wind had been surprisingly gentle today, which led to an unpleasant, humid atmosphere in town. Nevertheless, it was market day and despite of the warm weather, life went its’ usual course. The community was bustling with merchants selling wares from their stalls, the bleating of unwilling livestock and the lively chatter from the dwarrowdams who had come to buy necessities.

The only difference was the absence of the village kids. Usually they were out and about, exploring the market, but today most of the little dwarflings in the village had set out to the river, in an attempt to find some cooling. Most the time the group of kids were led by two mischievous princes, but today both of them were clearly absent.

Little Fíli had been sent on a mission by his mother. It was a very important one, and he was determined to carry it out as soon as possible.

You see, it might have been a hot summer day, it also happened to be bath day. Kíli hated bathing almost as much as he hated girls, and that said something. The little rascal had run off as soon as he saw his mother preparing the tub, and now Amad couldn’t find him anywhere.

‘Can you tell me where your brother is hiding, Fíli?’ she had pleaded to her eldest son. ‘Uncle Thorin is coming to dinner tonight and I don’t want his nephews to look like two little orcs.’

At first, the little golden lion had been torn between his mother and brother. He really didn’t want to disobey Amad, but betraying his brother by telling her his hiding place almost seemed worse. After a short contemplation, Fíli had told his mother that although he couldn’t provide her with an answer, he would try his best to retrieve Kíli for her. His mother had smiled and promised that she would ask uncle to tell one of his exciting war tales tonight, and eventually, that was what had persuaded the prince of Durin’s folk on his chase. Amad did not allow her brother to indulge her offspring with vicious stories too much, but when she did…

Once Fíli had left behind the outskirts of town and neared the waterfall, he stopped running to catch his breath. He leaned against the stone and closed his eyes, like he always did. His father had shown him this hiding place long ago, when Kíli had been nothing more than a little babe. Víli had told his eldest son about the horrific tales of the waterfall that swirled around the village, and how those rumors were just that. There were no fairies, no evil little goblins that lived under the surface. All those stories, Víli had said, were made up by a simple man who wanted a quiet place for himself to reflect on life. That man happened to be Víli’s grandfather.

When Víli died a few years ago, Fíli felt obligated to keep up the family tradition and tell his brother about the place. After that, they used it as their secret hideout, a place to play when they wanted to be alone. But of course it was more than that. It was the last tie to their father, the last thing they had left of him. This place was sacred.

Fíli was about to enter the cave when he heard it. He prickled his ears. It were no more than echoes, but it was there. Voices… Had Kíli brought friends to their secret lair?

The prince frowned and disappeared behind the stream. He hopped through the small cleft and took a right turn, which gave him access to the largest area.

His brother was huddled away in the farthest corner, trembling like a leaf. One of the town’s bullies, an oafish darkhaired troll called Yanmoth from the Hardgrip family, was towering over him. Yanmoth was known for chasing the little ones through the village, and scaring them to death with his ugly demeanor. The golden prince clenched his jaw and stepped through the room.

‘Stay away from him.’ He growled softly while balling his hands into fists. The Hardgrip kid quickly turned and laughed when he discovered who was challenging him. ‘So, here we have the other favored prince!’ ‘What has my brother done to you for you to be this mean?’ Fíli challenged the boy. The kid shrugged. ‘Nothing. He’s just such a crybaby, aren’t you little Kíli? ‘He followed me.’ Kíli muttered angrily. ‘And then he found our knife and he-’

Fíli bared his teeth when he discovered the blade that was lying in the Hardgrip kid’s hand. It was a beautiful design, with a roaring lion carved into the handle. The brothers had found it the first day they had entered the cave alone, and it had remained there as their little secret. That someone just discovered the cave was one thing, but he wasn’t about to give it up their most prized possession.

‘That’s ours.’ He said haughtily. ‘Give it back.’ ‘Finders keep it.’ The boy replied solemnly. ‘I could come in handy. It’s still sharp…’

Kíli started crying and it was then that the golden prince discovered the red streak in his brothers face. His stomach turned. This bully had been hurting his brother and Fíli hadn’t been there to protect him.

‘You hurt him.’ He hissed angrily. ‘You had no right.’ ‘Oh, I’m so sorry my prince.’ Yanmoth mocked while swinging the knife in front of the prince’s eyes. ‘Mind if I do it again?!’ ‘Get your STICKY PAWS OFF MY BROTHER!’ The little golden lion roared.

He leapt forward and crashed against the kid, causing them both to fall over. Fíli snatched the knife from the burly hands and threw it across the room. Uncle had once taught him not to bring weapons to a fistfight, so with that rule still ringing in his ears he landed his fist on the kid’s jaw. Then another one punch went into the stomach. Although the boy fought back, Fíli quickly discovered that Yanmoth might come across as big and intimidating, he so far had little experience in real combat. The prince easily best him and although there were a few close calls, he managed to wriggle himself out anyway. Then Kíli threw himself into the struggle, pulling on the kid’s long, dark hairs and shrieking: ‘LET. MY. BROTHER. GO!’

‘STOP! STOP!’ Yanmoth cried out and Fíli reluctantly let him go, urging his brother to do the same.

Rule number two in combat. Never lose your mind.

The kid scrambled himself together and the princes watched him running towards the entrance.

‘Who’s the crybaby now?!’ the prince yelled after the fleeing boy. ‘Don’t you ever come back!!!!!’ Kíli screamed.

They listened as the sound of sobbing diminished, until only the vague echoes remained.

‘Kíli, we have to go.’ The golden lion finally nudged and he held out his hand. ‘Amad has been searching for you for hours.’ ‘I can’t.’ his little brother protested, tears streaming from his dark eyes. ‘I can’t go home!’ ‘Why not?’ Fíli asked while walking across the space to retrieve the dagger. ‘Because I wt m pts…’ murmured the youngest prince of Durin, deliberately swallowing half of the words. ‘What now?’ Fíli demanded. ‘Because I wet my pants…!’ The golden lion grinned, understanding the shame his brother must feel, but it was too funny to let the moment pass without notion. ‘Well..’ he sniggered. ‘Lucky for you, it’s bath day anyway…’

‘So… Your mother told me you’ve been very brave today.’ Uncle Thorin spoke as he tucked in his nephew into bed. ‘What happened?’

Little Fíli told him all about how he had saved Kíli from that mean bully. And because uncle Thorin was a good listener, the golden lion totally forgot to lie about the origins of the knife, that it was actually already in the cave rather than in Yanmoth’s possession. He then explained how he had disarmed the Hardgrip’s kid, because he remembered what uncle had taught him.

When Thorin asked to see the dagger the little prince had been ranting on about, Fíli hesitated. Thorin gave him a stern look and his nephew quickly obliged, reaching under his pillow and retrieving the blade.

‘This is one of your fathers’ daggers.’ Thorin gasped. ‘Do you know how I can tell?’ Fíli shook his head. ‘He always had this specific handle, with the lion.’ Uncle explained. ‘See?’ Fíli gripped the handle firmly and gave his uncle the puppy eyed look. ‘You won’t tell Amad, will you?’ he pleaded. ‘If she knows, she will take it away from me!’ Thorin smiled and his eyes twinkled. ‘No, I won’t tell your mother. It’s all that you have from Adad.’ The prince heaved a relieved sigh. Thorin placed a gentle kiss on his nephews’ forehead. ‘But it’s not safe to keep on your person anymore, understood?’ ‘I’ll put it away, I promise.’ Fíli said reluctantly. His uncle smiled and made his way towards the door. ‘Fíli?’ he said, with his hand on the door handle. ‘Yes, uncle?’ the prince answered sleepily. ‘Keep it under the loose floorboard under your bed.’ Thorin told him. ‘It’ll be safe there.’ The young prince frowned, wondering how his uncle knew of this secret hiding place. But when he wanted to open his mouth to ask, Thorin already had disappeared.

He would never know.

#the hobbit #fíli #fili #golden lion #prince of durin's folk #fili appreciation week #fili fanfiction #fili fics #xxbyimm writes

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2000adonline · 7 years ago

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The best digital Thrill-powered comics for Hallowe'en!

Whether you're looking for something to shock your socks off or chill you to the bone - 2000 AD has your Hallowe'en reads sorted this year!

And it's never been easier to discover a darkly devious digital deal thanks to our apps for Apple, Android, and Windows 10 devices - just download, make sure the front door is locked, and curl up with a blood-curdling read!

We're recommending just some of the best horror 2000 AD and the Treasury of British Comics has to offer - from all-time chilling classics like Monster and The Thirteenth Floor to malevolent modern marvels such as Zombo and Cradlegrave, and even fingernail-biting fantasy with Tales of Telguuth!

Download the 2000 AD app now and check out the recommendations below for a wonderfully warped, suitably spine-tingling Hallowe'en with the best in blood-thirsty British comics!

2000 AD app for Apple/iOs

2000 AD app for Android

2000 AD app for Windows 10

MONSTER

Twelve-year old Kenneth Corman buried his abusive father outside his creaky old family home. The thing that had killed him was inside, lurking in the darkness of a locked room. For all of his young life, Kenneth had been plagued by a feeling that there was something horrific dwelling in his house of secrets. But he had to know what was up there. He had to know what had killed his dad. Now it was time to face the horror behind the door… Co-created by Alan Moore (Watchmen) and Heinzl (Doomlord), with additional story by John Wagner (Judge Dredd), Alan Grant (Batman) and Jesus Redondo (Return to Armageddon), this fear-inducing tale from the pages of Scream! is collected here in its entirety for the first time!

JUDGE DEATH: MY NAME IS DEATH

Judge Death, a twisted alien being from a dimension where all life is crime, has escaped from a Mega-City One containment facility and is headed for the radioactive hell of the Cursed Earth. Here his path of destruction continues as he searches for the means to destroy all humanity. This macabre road trip takes Death through the twisted remains of Las Vegas, teams him up with two cold-blooded serial killers, and shows him that the true path to annihilation lies deep below the desert sands. Written by John Wagner (Judge Dredd, A History of Violence) and illustrated by Frazer Irving (Klarion the Witchboy, Xombi).

THE THIRTEENTH FLOOR

Maxwell Tower is a state-of-the art tower block: a bold, experimental council tenement, run by an A.I. called Max. As building superintendent, Max’s primary function is the welfare of his tenants, a duty which he takes very very seriously. If anyone threatens his precious residents or the building itself, they can expect a visit to the thirteenth floor… A place where nightmare and reality become one! The iconic series from classic British anthologies Scream! and Eagle returns in this terrifying collection!

ZOMBO

When Flight 303 crash-lands on the lethal deathworld known as Chronos, all is not looking well for the surviving passengers. Enter Zombo; a top secret goverment experiment - part zombie, part human ghoul, with a taste for living flesh and aspirations of pop stardom! Written by Al Ewing (Avengers) and with gorgeous art by Henry Flint (Judge Dredd), witness the undead as you've never seen them before! Grab a bite to eat and settle down with Volume One and Volume Two

DEVLIN WAUGH: SWIMMING IN BLOOD

The Mega-Cities that are home to the last vestiges of humanity are constantly preyed upon by bestial forces from beyond the realms of decency. Thankfully such monstrosities are kept at bay by spiritual envoys employed by Vatican City such as Devlin Waugh – a Brit-Cit born bon viveur and jolly good fellow to boot! When Vatican precognitive telepaths predict a horrific presence at the underwater prison of Aquatraz, Devlin is sent in to investigate and uncovers an uncompromising evil which will cause him to cancel elevenses and abandon the Queensbury rules in order to survive! Created by the pairing of distinguished scribe John Smith (Indigo Prime) and the illustrious artist Sean Phillips (Criminal), with additional art from Steve Yeowell (Zenith), Swimming in Blood sets the precedent in elegant, pugnacious fiction!

THE DARK JUDGES: THE FALL OF DEADWORLD

Deadworld was once a planet similar to Earth, until Judge Death and his lieutenants Fear, Fire and Mortis deemed that as only the living could break the law, life itself should be a crime. As the Dark Judges set out to bring extinction to their world, Judge Fairfax and a family of farmers attempt to escape the chaos. Is it possible for the living to evade to cold, icy grasp of Death? Chilling body horror from the warped imaginations of Kek-W (Indigo Prime) and Dave Kendall (Event Horizon), with the extra Dreams of Deadworld strips, giving an extraordinary insight into the undead psyches of the internationally famous super-fiends.

CRADLEGRAVE

After serving eight months at a Young Offenders Institution for arson, Shane Holt returns to his home on the Ravenglade Estate during a long, hot summer. Plagued by the ASBO generation, the estate has seen its fair share of problems but nothing comes close to the horror that lurks within Ted and Mary’s council home... From the extraordinary mind of John Smith (Devlin Waugh) with art by Edmund Bagwell (Indigo Prime), this contemporary urban horror is guaranteed to deliver the chills!

THARG'S TERROR TALES

Herein this tome of terror, the merciless alien editor of 2000 AD, Tharg the Mighty presents tales so frightening - so outrageously scary, they should come with a health warning . . . Including blood-soaked romance A Love Like Blood and Necronauts, where Harry Houdini, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Charles Fort and H.P. Lovecraft team up to prevent a malevolent force from enslaving mankind! This fear-filled treat features the fantastic artwork of ‘Freaky’ Frazer Irving, with stories by ‘Growling’ Gordon Rennie and ‘Jittery’ John Smith.

TALES OF TELGUUTH

In March 2014, British comics lost one of its most creative and distinct voices in the form of Steve Moore. This collection features the highly-regarded fantasy series Tales of Telguuth, which Moore developed and wrote for 2000 AD. Filled with weird fantasy and terrifying horror, ravenous spirits and capricious gods prey on the weak and foolish in a collection that's guaranteed to leave a mark.

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gushingaboutgames · 8 years ago

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Sega Dreamcast

I hated middle school. There’s a whole swath of memories I’d rather do without as far as the years 1999 through 2002 are concerned. There is, however, one memory I hold near and dear to my heart during this time frame. After reading about it in magazines and being really excited for it, my mother took me to Toys’R’Us one evening to get me a Sega Dreamcast. We brought that puppy home with a copy of Sonic Adventure, hooked it up, fired it up, and took it all in. As the opening cinematic played on my TV, Mum said “It’s like playing a movie!”

Boy, if we only knew what games would go on to look like now.

The Dreamcast was, and to this day remains, my all time favorite console. It’s the swan song of a company that was perhaps a bit too ambitious for its own good, a marvel of gaming technology many years ahead of its time, and home to some of the best and most unique games to ever come out.

At the time of its release, the Dreamcast was the most graphically powerful console on the market. Sony’s Playstation boasted 32-bit graphics, and the Nintendo 64 had double that, at -wait for it- 64 bits. Dreamcast had double of that: 128 bits of beautiful graphics, thanks to the GD-ROM, a proprietary disc format born from squeezing every bit of memory out of a regular old CD as was physically possible, before DVDs and Blu-Ray became as ubiquitous as they are today.

Even the method of memory storage was unlike its competitors; the standard memory card for the Dreamcast was the Visual Memory Unit (VMU), a cross between a memory card and a Gameboy that let you manage data and download minigames to extend the functionality of many games. The only other thing like it that I can think of being made is Sony’s Pocketstation, and that never saw the light of day outside of Japan. You would not believe the number of button-cell batteries I burned through caring for Chao on the go.

Of course, all of the fancy tech and cool gadgets wouldn’t amount to much if the games on offer weren’t fun at all. Tiger’s Game.Com bragged of being a versatily console and handheld device, but the games for it all stank like a fragrant dog poop laying on the sidewalk on a hot Floridian summer day. Thankfully, fun games were something the Dreamcast had no shortage of, even in the brief few years that it was on the market, a slew of which I’d like to bring attention to.

Sonic Adventure 1 & 2

Maybe they haven’t aged as well as I’d like to think, but DAYUM if these weren’t some fun games back in the day. Sonic has always struggled with 3D, but the first attempts at true 3D Sonic games remain quite novel. The first Sonic Adventure had different play styles for each character, some of which were great (Sonic and Gamma, for me at least), others...not so much (the less said about Big, the better), in addition to, for its time, an intricate plot with each character’s story intertwining and playing out differently depending on which character you’re playing as.

Sonic Adventure 2, meanwhile, streamlined the gameplay and improved upon some of the first game’s flaws, cutting out the non-platforming related stages (aside from the treasure hunting stages, which are a touch better than in the first game). It’s story was also very compelling, being one of the darkest storylines in the entire series; government conspiracies, weapons of mass destruction, fucking murder! Maybe that’s not everyone’s cup of tea, but I think we can all agree that SA2 handled “dark and gritty” a lot better than Shadow the Hedgehog’s stand-alone game.

Both games also featured a mini-game that could prove to be just as addicting, if not more so, than the games proper: Chao Gardens. Chao were little, adorable water monsters that players could raise like virtual pets, their popularity likely owed in part to the ubiquity of other virtual pets like Tamagotchi near the end of the millennium, as well as how easy-going and casual raising a Chao was compared to a Digi-Pet that would not wait for you to clean its shit up: you can enter and leave Chao Gardens freely, and you wouldn’t have to worry of your Chao dying of neglect in your absence. There’s also very deep mechanics at work for raising Chao, with their growth and evolution depending heavily on how well you raise them, what animals you give them, and what fruits you feed them, all so you can have them participate in races. The aforementioned VMU also expanded Chao functionality considerably, letting you raise them anywhere you wanted.

Shenmue

My relationship with Shenmue, these days, is very much that of a love-hate relationship. On the one hand, Shenmue popularized two aspects of gaming today that I loathe; Quick-Time Events, and over-blown game budgets (this game would’ve had to be bought by every DC owner TWICE before it could break even). On the other hand, there’s no denying that this game was a labor of love by Yu Suzuki. The attention to detail in Ryo Hazuki’s hometown of Yokosuka is staggering. Everything you can imagine can be interacted with, down to the last dresser drawer in Ryo’s house. Every resident of Yokosuka was unique from the others and had their own behaviors that they would go through, unlike every other NPC in the town, or other games for that matter. The story may be a tad formulaic, and most of the voice work left something to be desired, but the world of Shenmue was one that was very fun to explore.

Plus, this game introduced me to Space Harrier. If that’s not a good thing, you tell me what is.

Jet Set Radio

I had to convince my mother this game wouldn’t turn me into a graffiti-painting delinquent. It was a hard sell, but it paid off, and boy am I glad it did.

Jet Set Radio is very much unlike other games, then and today even. This was the game that helped to popularize cel-shaded graphics; the thick black outlines around the character models made this game look like an anime come to life, and eventually paved the way for the wicked-awesome graphics we see today from Arc System Works with Guilty Gear XRD and Dragonball FighterZ. The idea of playing a roller-blading hooligan throwing tags around the city and evading the police was also unique, and kept players on their toes as techno music accompanies their shenanigans. The game was a bit on the short side, but was challenging and fun enough that multiple playthroughs were warranted.

Making my own graffiti tags was also quite the timesink.

Phantasy Star Online

I may be a late bloomer to the Phantasy Star series, but it has become one very dear to me for helping me meet some of my closest friends (Hi, Tara!).

Phantasy Star was a series of JRPGs by Sega meant to compete with other big franchises like Final Fantasy and Dragon Quest. The original PSO, on the other hand, is an online multiplayer dungeon crawler that would change the course of the series from that point forward. As interstellar colonists investigating mysterious phenomena on an alien planet, players would delve into unique locals with characters they would create themselves to slay monsters, collect valuable items, and unravel the mysteries of the planet Ragol.

The original PSO is also very notable for its attempt to break the language barrier with a unique conversation system. While good ol’ fashioned keyboards remained in vogue, players also had the option of constructing sentences to transmit to other players in the area or party in those players’ native languages. Using this system, you could send a message saying “Help! This dragon is too powerful!”, and your friend in Japan would read it as “助けて！この龍は強すぎる！” It may not have seen much use, since players are more likely to congregate and play with those that can speak a common language fluently, but it was very kind of Sega to provide the option.

One thing that gets me straight in the feels is something from the original beta trailer for this game: “The world of Phantasy Star Online lasts for an eternity!” It is not uncommon for trailers and developers to hype games up with hyperbole (just ask Peter Molyneaux), but this is a statement that has held true for PSO! Even after the last official server for the last iteration of PSO shut down in 2008, private servers continue to run the game to this day, ensuring that the world of PSO truly remains eternal. Even with a proper sequel Phantasy Star Online 2 proving to be a pop culture staple in Japan, the original PSO remains one of the most beloved and enduring MMOs in history.

Skies of Arcadia

I’ve got friends who would skin my hide and leave me to hang like the Predator if I didn’t mention this.

Just about every console since the NES has a JRPG, and the Dreamcast is no exception. While Phantasy Star shifted towards MMO territory, those hoping for a sweeping single-player adventure still had Skies of Arcadia. As the daring sky pirate Vyse and his motley crew of adventurers, players fought to stop an evil empire from awakening an ancient evil while flying across a world of floating continents in a kickass airship. This game is among the most challenging JRPGs in the genre; a clever mind and strategic acumen are needed to survive battles with other pirates, monsters, and rival airships. The world of the game is also incredibly beautiful; I personally think it has much in common with Castle in the Sky, my favorite Hayao Miyazaki film. The soundtrack compliments the game incredibly, and is a joy to listen to by itself.

---

There are plenty of other games that made the Dreamcast incredible, but this article is long enough as it is, so I’ll have to give those games their proper due later. Suffice to say, though, the Dreamcast is a historical console that remains one of the most beloved in the history of the medium, not only by myself, but by hundreds of thousands of gamers the world over. It may have only been on the market for a few years, but it is said that the brightest stars are the ones that burn out the quickest.

And make no mistake, the Dreamcast is one of the brightest stars there ever was.

#dreamcast #sega #sonic #phantasy star online #skies of arcadia #shenmue #jet set radio #9/9/99

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shyyydragons · 8 years ago

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The Lion’s Dragon

Soooo....I wrote a lil’ something. I just really, really needed that hot, angsty and temperamental conversational that awaits these two...and what follows, so I figured I would write it myself. This is pure DanyxJaime trash. I couldn’t get anything done without writing this and getting it out there into the world. Jonerys is my #1 love, but Jaimerys is coming in a close second. @danyandjaime Rating: M Pairing: Jaime/Dany Word Count: 4,376 Preface: I’m just going to say now that Cersei isn’t pregnant, and for this to work Jon and Dany have decided to remain political and cordial, nothing further -- I didn’t want to character assassinate Jon for this to work. Again, I apologize for any discrepancies with the book/show.

xox

He should have known the first time he saw her that she would be beautiful.

Was beautiful the right word?   

Sort of odd seeing this fresh-faced young woman with silver hair attempting to dislodge a spear from her dragon’s shoulder after decimating his army in a fury of fire and blood. The agonized screaming from his men triggered him to recklessly charge at her with nothing but a spear — he could have ended the war, should have ended the war.

In hindsight, he had always been called the slowest of the Lannisters — and perhaps everyone was right in their judgement.

The second time they spoke would be in the dragon pit, with it’s destroyed ruins that had been home to her ancestor’s claim — he never found dragons fascinating like the public did. Yes, they were indeed magnificent beasts, but the impending damage they caused to cities and people alike didn’t bode well with Jaime. He much preferred the stories of knights and kingly men that did heroic things — those stories were much simpler than the lore of beasts and magic.  

Or perhaps he simply didn’t like fire.

And she symbolized fire.

This time, he could see her clearly when said beast wasn’t guarding it’s mother. Again, he had to recognize beauty when it was presented before him — and he didn’t miss the calculated, close-natured way her and the proclaimed King in the North moved and spoke in defense of one another.

Truthfully, she reminded him nothing of her father. If anything, she adhered to the ethereal looks of her mother Rhaella. Madness didn’t seem to touch her — just a petite woman with a large army that dared disrupt his sister’s throne. He never enjoyed politics such as this — but when the wight erupted from the box and made a run at Cersei, even he fumbled with grasping his sword.

Jaime Lannister believed in what he saw.   

He protected the people of King’s Landing once from the Mad King.  

He would protect them again from the dead.

Which is why when Cersei told him they wouldn’t be assisting the North to fight against those…things, he couldn’t break another vow. The tales of heroes must have been implanted within him, because although he killed innocent men on the battlefield and did questionable things — his golden hand brought a new sense of reality of their situation and how important it was for them to fight against the dead. “I made a vow, and I intend to honor it.”

He left that day on horseback when the arrival of the first snow in decades lingered in the air, providing a hush over the city that was normally awake at all hours. The ignorant minds of the people in King’s Landing must have seen it as a fluke, but when he rode with his back turned to the capitol, he knew he was making the correct decision.

The third time was in the council room.

Unlikely faces gathered around.

Tyrion stood beside him, and he could feel the wary glances of all the men he had been predisposed to hate thanks to his family name. Unspeakable things had been done, but his brother stood as a shield between him and their judgement with the bigger evil in front of them.

Bronn scoffed at the unusual air within the hall at Winterfell, “aye, what a fucking lot.”

Tyrion had to keep himself from snickering, much to the annoyance of his Queen, “we are an unusual group of people, but we have to stay focused on the task at hand.”

“I don’t know why you have the man that crippled my younger brother in this room, Jon,” Sansa spoke abruptly, narrowing her eyes at the kingslayer.

He had been at Winterfell for weeks now — and he had made it a point to visit Bran at the godswood and speak with him. What had been more surprising than the dragon’s circling the air above them in the harsh winter or the howl of the dire wolf had been the simple way that Bran thanked him.

“I don’t think it’s custom for someone to be thanked for crippling another,” Jaime spoke off-handedly.

Bran offset him with an odd stare, one that was much too knowing for a body so young, “if it weren’t for you pushing me — I would have never become the Three Eyed Raven, you gave me the opportunity for sight.” Sight...Right. “—You’ve changed from the man that pushed me out the window.” Jaime couldn’t hide his confusion. “You’re here to help my brother against the betterment of Cersei, and you’ve saved half a million lives — including the life of the woman that helped my sister, I hold no grudge against you.” Relieved and mostly unnerved, Jaime apologized again before dismissing himself — wondering in what world the dead, dragons, and three eyed ravens made themselves known to the simple minds of humans.

“Jaime Lannister has made peace with Bran — and we need his mind for the wars to come, he has invaluable experience on the battlefield, something we’ll need,” the King in the North declared to the table, nulling the rest of the character’s from questioning him.

She chose not to say anything in that moment, but he looked past Jon Snow to see the Silver Queen watching him with narrowed eyes - sizing up the man that killed her father with a sword through his back.

The third, fourth, and fifth time had been during the long hours of their planning within the council room.

Time went on like this, the still before the storm.  

And each day he figured she would stuff the past away — they were too focused on the impending long night, and he too feared for the worst, being a knight of summer.

One night, when the air was still and snow stopped layering the ground with the foreshadowing oft the storm to come, the people within Winterfell chose to loosen themselves with some wine.

A rare night, really.

He had been enjoying himself actually speaking with Tyrion in their down time when Daenerys entered the small hall.   Tyrion looked towards his queen sluggishly, slightly buzzed — and he had to admit he felt the slight inclination and sway of alcohol inhibit the processing speed of his movements.

He stood to dismiss himself, but she motioned for him to stop, “I would like to speak with the Kingslayer.”

Ah. So finally the time for their conversation came.  

He could see the calculations of such a conversation ending badly between the two within his brother’s eyes — but his younger brother decided to let them be and dismissed himself.   

Daenery’s sat herself across from him in the seat that Tyrion had previously occupied with a cup of wine in her hand.

He could see the rosette in her cheeks, the determination for information within her eyes.

Once they were alone, he could feel the undeniable presence of her fill the space.   “I would like you to tell me about my father,” she spoke boldly, crisp and firm with a slight hint of reservation.

Jaime could feel the heat of the fire within the hall cackle wildly, “I don’t think—“

“You were my father’s kingsuard — entrusted to protect him until death. I can only hear so much from the people that once knew him, and I have a right to know about him by the man that broke his vows,” she took a sip of her wine, “so tell me.”

The knight sat himself back in his seat, willing himself to remember, “he…Was a cruel man.”

She knew, he could see she knew how mad her father had been -- but Daenerys wanted different answers.

“-- I grew up hearing stories about you, Kingslayer. Your family was the Usurper’s dog, you Lannisters, and you broke your oath to my father,” her voice tight and constricted with years of wonder and tightly wound stories that Viserys would tell her about the man that killed their father.

“Yes,” he bit at her, “I broke my vows and killed the Mad King, I would do it again if it meant saving the lives of thousands that your father would have rather seen burn. I asked him to surrender, but he didn’t listen when they sacked the city --”

She didn't see the sentiment, “you broke an oath the the man you swore to protect — leading to the death of my father, the murder of Elia, and the rape and slaughter of my niece and nephew,” she ground out sternly — the Queen’s voice, as his brother liked to call it — the one she used in the council that only hardened against those she didn’t incline herself to agree with.

“I had nothing to do with their deaths.”

“You also did nothing to stop it.”

He could feel his temper rising, fueling the anger that had sat in a vault within him for years while the world danced around the words kingslayer and oathbreaker, “do you understand what happened that night?” he paused to break away from the hastiness of the young woman, “of course you wouldn’t, you were but a child still — I tried to tell your father to surrender peacefully, I wanted him to live.”

“To whom? Your family? That’s rich coming from a Lannister.”

“You chose a Lannister as your hand, quite contrite are we?” he knew he was treading on uneven ground, she could easily offer him to her dragons — and even he could see the spark of Aerys within her.

“The only Lannister worth trusting,” she took another sip of her wine, to which he sarcastically tipped his glass to and took a well-needed swig, this girl was as temperamental and stubborn as his sister.

A few moments of silence rolled by before he spoke, “you asked me about your father — I am giving you my account of him as you asked, I don’t intend to sit here with you all night arguing.”

His words must have reached somewhere because she decided to sit back and toss her hair over her shoulder — silvery gold in the glow of the fire, “go on.”“

He burned people alive, burned them until their flesh blackened and fell off of their bone — and he enjoyed it. His laughter would echo around the hall and we had to stand there as he burned people — the more mad he became, the more people he burned. Lords, ladies — the children that would get caught stealing…” he paused, remembering the way their screams intermixed with the Mad King’s laughter, begging for him to stop.

But you can’t stop wildfire.

Just as you can’t stop dragon fire.

He could see the information churning within her, she had to have known — There were plenty of people who could recount this for her, he didn’t understand why she had to hear it from him. The ghost of her father would always haunt her, but as much as her presence annoyed him, he had to commend her for refusing to use her dragons in taking King’s Landing — as a war general, it was the easiest and most efficient way to take back the throne.

“I don’t suppose you enjoy watching people burn,” he muttered under his breath, to which Daenerys glared at him.

“Of course not.”

“Then what of the Tarlys?”

“They refused to bend the knee, I gave them a choice,” she defended herself.

Jaime smirked and shook his head, the thread of a laugh on his lips, “right, bend the knee and submit or be burned by dragon fire? That’s quite the choice, you Targaryens have an interesting perspective of the term choice.” Perhaps now he was baiting her, but the fiery temper in her violet eyes was rather enthralling.

“I don’t take kind to the likes of you questioning my decisions.”

“As I don’t take to being called a kingslayer, but I suppose you get used to it after so many years — the words bounce themselves off of you like armor. But there still isn’t a day where I don’t think of his last words.”

She remained quiet then — so this is what she wanted to hear.

“What did he say?” her voice was quiet, and he couldn’t fathom how word didn’t reach her, the slight tremor in her voice was almost childlike compared to the stern dragon queen that faced the harsh Northern lords. Then he supposed that truthfully, before Ned Stark found him — he had been the only one to hear the words himself.

“Burn them all.”

He remembered the time he told Brienne, the first person that he felt inclined to tell after their journey — and it felt like being reborn, the past served only to suffocate and tie people down.

Still, he didn’t regret his decision.

“Your father would have rather seen the city burn and laugh as innocent men, women, and children burn alive by wildfire and watch the city weep in flames. If I hadn’t done what I did, if I hadn’t become the Kingslayer — there would only be ash and ruin littering the ground of King’s Landing, and no iron throne left.”

Silence permeated the air.

He kicked back his cup and tasted the bitterness of his words, of how open he became with young queen that believed in the fire of her dragons and words of her house.

Jaime watched her, through the fog of wine and of the truth he could see her own tremulous thoughts before she stared at him in a placated understanding. Jaime felt like leaving, the weight of his begotten twin in King’s Landing — the dead that were marching south, there wasn’t anytime for him to dwell on the past that chained him to a post as an oathbreaker.

“I understand, Ser Jaime,” Daenerys tipped back her wine glass — the substance stained her lips red, glowing against the milky color of her skin. “—I won’t pretend and think my father was a good man, I knew that coming into this conversation. However, I also won’t pretend that I can walk around you and look at you as anything other than the man that killed my father.”  

“Fair enough.”

They spoke a few more minutes before the dragon queen excused herself to leave to her chambers. In the following days a new, untried lightness swept the air around her.   He couldn’t issue it as his doing, but he did notice the way her gaze would linger on him, as if assessing his true character -- something he hated.

The first time she truly smiled at him had been during dinner, most of the advisors had retired to their chambers, Jaime chose to come later in hopes that it would deter the fact that it took him so long to eat with only one hand. At the capitol he had his meals pre-cut, and most times at the war camps he chose to eat alone — allowing him to simply eat with his lone hand rather barbarically without pondering, judgmental eyes.

Unfortunately for him, Daenerys entered after him, leaving the two opposing forces alone at the table in stewed silence.

As custom, he struggled to cut the meat on his plate — but he kept quiet about it until he noticed her eyeing him casually, regarding him with a curious exterior. “It isn’t becoming of a queen to stare,” he shot at her.

“Apologies,” the words came but she continued to eye him, “—so then you regard me as your queen?”  

Well, he walked himself into that one.

“I regard you as a leader that is helping save the seven kingdoms, I can respect such a notion — more than I can say for my sister,” at the mention of his lover, Jaime scowled -- the person he shared a womb with always brought a sour taste to his mouth.

After Cersei threatened to kill him — him, of all people — he had stupidly stuck by her side their whole life. Still, he loved her and knew in the deepest part within him that they would exit this world together, but he wasn’t blind enough to see how vile of a woman she had become after the death of their children.

She decided to switch the course of conversation, “Tyrion has always spoken very highly of you, to me it seems he looks up to you quite fondly.”

Jaime huffed indignantly, “well he shouldn’t, I was never very good to him -- in fact, I’m not a very good man in general.”

“He says differently.”

“He was probably drunk.”

And there it was.  

She smiled, and together they laughed at the heartiness of the truth. “You aren’t like many other men I’ve met,” she complimented after their laughter died, keeping her gaze steady with his -- her words sprawled his memory with the years of his narcissistic behavior. “I would have to agree,” he agreed with a slight smile, and again -- she smiled gently towards him.

“Tell me more of Tyrion and yourself as children, I always love to hear the dynamic of functional siblings, though I don’t think he tells the entire truth of his stories,” she murmured

Like green children they spoke of his stories at the jest of his younger brother at the great dinner table, and she seemed fascinated by the stories of their past, he omitted those that usually ended in ill will against Tyrion — but he found the way her eyes lit up when he spoke of their upbringing together as brothers at Casterly Rock utterly fascinating.

Perhaps it was due to such a long time of duty and honor that he felt lightened to the situation — the only other time his reserve had broken like this had been with Brienne of Tarth, though he supposed their circumstances made them utterly vulnerable in each other’s presence.

He still needed to thank her for that.

The first time they kissed, it had been short and hot and tasted like honey on his lips.

For nearly a month they went on like this — teasing and playful touches, making sideways comments that treaded on the line of offensive and whether or not one of them dared take offense to the small jokes. They found solace in being the two mistrusted outsiders within Winterfell. The Northern lords would rather see him dead and the Targaryen woman and her army leave.

“It seems we’re grouped together,” he commented wryly one day in the hall.

Daenerys frowned, annoyed by the gathering of the northern lords and their persistent refusal to accept her, “it seems that way. I suppose it’s hard for northern men to forget the past sins of my father.”

“My father is not innocent in the betrayal of the Starks either, I’m afraid.”

If it weren’t for Jon’s adamant reminding of the army of a hundred thousand marching towards their home, he didn't know if they would have been allowed here at all.

Their overtly friendly banter didn’t go unnoticed by Tyrion.  

“I see you have been coming to know her Grace, brother.”

Jaime thought about their light banter, he found it relieving she had a rather hearty and sarcastic sense of humor — he rather enjoyed it.

“I have, nothing for you to worry about.”

“Ah, but as her hand — I must think of all possibilities in her regard.”

“Possibilites?”

Tyrion glared at him, “I know you’re smarter than that, and I don’t miss the way you look at her.”

He wanted to laugh, the idea alone hadn’t crossed his mind, “and how is that?”  

“How most men look at her, you idiot.”

 Another week and news broke that the wall had fallen, destroyed by the undead dragon risen by the Night King. Chaos erupted in the North. Ravens were sent across the seven kingdoms.

Winterfell was consumed with planning.

It was decided that he would be leading secondary defenses — the vanguard had been given to the Northern Lords that would take their forces first.

Organizing men, making sure weapons were crafted, food, supplies, strongholds, it was happening.

Nobody slept for days. He was dragging himself to his chamber, praying to the gods he could get a small sliver of sleep.

They passed each other in the hall -- tired, perhaps a little delirious, weary, and barely starving off the blanket of sleep that compelled them.

Perhaps it was the lavender that complimented her skin, or the simple way she kept her hair down — regalities gone in the face of death, but Jaime gently grasped her arm and brought her closer to him.

He halfway expected her to retaliate, but instead she leaned against him, sighing a breathe of relief at the touch of humanly contact. He kissed her then, his lips and body flush against her own, and she brought her hands to cup his face, two southerners in a northern world.

Jaime had only ever known one woman, and to that credit it nearly besot him with the feel of her tender, young body ignited a hunger within him that threatened to consume him.

A lion’s hunger.

The young queen must have registered this, because she broke away with bruised lips, her pout looking rather exquisite after his assault.

They were panting in the dreary cold halls, but between them a new heat rose. Without word, she left to her chambers — leaving Jaime to his own pertinent thoughts that plagued him that night.

And a painful erection.

The second and third time they met in secret.

They would pass in the halls and delve into a shadowed corners like clockwork, bodies consumed by the threat of death and a raw hunger that dragon and lion felt in the pits of their stomachs.

His bit at her lower lip, tugging at her skin where her hands found their way into his growing golden locks. Their breathing heavy and labored, anyone could pass by and find them — but they rather liked the thrill.

Daringly, her hand dragged itself over the material of his pants, swelling his cock painfully under the intrusion of this young woman.

A breathy moan muttered into her lips, and with a renewed valor, he pinned her to the wall, his fingers tracing along her neck until he gripped her chin and forced it upwards, exposing her slender neck to him. He nipped at her at first. The small shudder of her body brought ablaze a new heat, and he kissed her neck, suckling at the juncture of her neck and collarbone, reveling in the taste of her sweet skin.

She moaned softly into his ear, a delightful sound that would burn itself into his memory.

“I wouldn’t expect the queen to be ticklish,” he breathed into her skin, hands gripping her ass to bring her flush against him — as if there could be no room between them.

She gripped him in response.

Slender fingers stroked his length beneath his pants between them, the material doing nothing to stop the fire of her touch.

He kissed her again to silence his guttural groan.

“W-we can’t,” she breathed softly, although her actions betrayed her words as she still teased him.

Lannister and Targaryen.

Lion and Dragon. Rivals and enemies is what their colors of red represented.

Their history ran deep, although they had never met before. He rested his forehead against hers, heart ready to implode from her touch — he was more than a decade older than her, and although he came into this world hanging on the heel of his sister — he couldn’t fight the primal instinct this petite woman dragged out of him.

Whether it be their long talks in the night, of their stories and their past, or the simple way her hands would brush along his and the feather light way she laughed — where his sister had been sharp, edged, and calculated; Daenerys was soft, round, and understanding.

Jaime Lannister had never been a tender lover.

The first night they fell into bed with one another was covered in their lust.

He bent her over the bed, his hand tangling itself in her golden silver hair and pulled her back to him, he thrust into her from behind, using his knees to spread her further for him.

The young queen muffled her moans into the furs of her bed, gripping onto the bedding for life as the sound of him fucking her echoed in her room.

Wet and inviting, her sheath tightly pulled him back in.

They both knew the dangers of this, nor did they care.

They met once again in the hall — and in a few days time he would be leading the secondary defenses north, and it was she that pulled him to her chambers, breaths ragged and joined together to commemorate their need for one another.

He could feel her tightening around him, feel the clench of her impending orgasm.

The lion groaned his pleasure, uncaring to the world beyond them and what consequences lie ahead. The hotness of her core made his cock slick with her arousal, and seven hells she looked gorgeous bent over for him, the slenderness of her back and spine taut with her pleasure.

“Ah-!” after a forceful thrust, her fingers turned white clinging onto the furs in an attempt to push away her peak.

A masculine sense of pride filled him, and he bent further over her, pushing her hair off of her neck and licking the shell of her ear, her body twitched pleasurably beneath him — he forced her head back and kissed her jaw, neck, a husky groan dancing around them.

“Fuck,” he groaned, the noise stemming from somewhere deep within him — her gentle cries were caught by his hand to silence her, and the daring minx pulled one of his digits into her mouth, suckling on his finger while moaning into his hand.

The sight alone made his cock rigid, his balls tightened at the precipice of his orgasm.

The queen crumbled, melted before him as her orgasm tore through her and she cried into the furs, her body tightening and free hand gripping onto his arm to steady herself.

Her walls milked him, and he lost it — he came inside, hot and wet — his cock twitched his release, spurring one of the best orgasms of his life.His legs nearly buckled, but he spent himself in her with a low growl, sticky and content.

Together, they fell onto the bed and he rolled onto his back — sweaty and incoherent in the after glow of their orgasm.

Where had she learned so much?

The Silver Queen turned onto her side to face him, her pouty lips held a ghost of a smile on them.

He reached with his one hand to flick his thumb gently over her bottom lip.

With a simple motion he leaned over and caught her lips in a kiss, they both lingered — afraid of what this meant and their odd tug towards one another, “I leave north in a few days,” he reminded her.

Daenerys pulled herself closer to him, her fingers playing with the golden hair on his chest, “I know.”

“I probably won’t be coming back,” he muttered — years of preparation made him fearless of death, and many nights in Robb Stark’s camp as his prisoner he welcomed the thought, and when they took his hand he wanted nothing else but the sweetness of death.

“You will,” she tested him, “your Queen demands it.”

He chuckled then, knowing the unspoken agreement between them. What stood between them.

“And if I don’t?”

She contemplated his words, but nulled any thoughts by climbing on top of him with a devilish smirk on her pretty face, “you’re a slow learner, Jaime Lannister.”

Daenerys grabbed his belt that had been discarded on the bed and tied his forearms together to disable his movement. His member sprung back to life beneath her administrations.

Bloody hells, had she learned this across the narrow sea?

“—You will return to me, and don’t make me repeat myself.”

He did return, half alive — but he could only think that he truly, selfishly wanted more firsts with this Daenerys Targaryen in the midst of the long night.

#jaimerys #jaime x dany #jaime lannister #daenerys targaryen #prompt #fanfic

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dancingalone21 · 8 years ago

Text

Rich Bitch

Summary: Dean is working at a fancy resort for the summer which leads to some interesting run-ins with the reader.

Prompt: “Dude…what’s with the short shorts?“

Pairing: Bartender!Dean x Reader

Dean breathes deeply, instantly feeling at peace with his tranquil surroundings. The familiar ocean air easing him into a sense of calm. Snapping his eyes shut, he welcomes the warmth from the sun to wash over his face.

The beach has always been a second home for Dean Winchester, having fallen in love with the sand and the waves long ago. The plethora of scantily clad women being a fantastic bonus. This is his happy place, this is his…

“Hey buddy. Daydream on your own time. You’re the bartender. So tend the bar.” An obnoxious prick named Brock rips Dean back into reality, earning a hard glare in his direction.

“Here ya go, sir.” Dean quietly sneers through a fake smile that’s barely noticeable, handing over the lame ass daiquiri he was just forced to make.

“Enjoy…” Brock hardly reacts with his pansy drink in hand, sprinting away as if he’s allergic to fucking manners. God forbid he offers a measly thank you to the help.

“Douchebag.” Dean seethes under his breath, again fixating on the gorgeous view before him. He tries to revert back to the relaxed state he was previously in but it’s futile.

Fucking Brock.

“Having a good day?” Sam smirks as he joins his older brother behind the bar, entertained by the interaction he just witnessed.

“I deserve a fucking medal. The amount of restraint it takes for me not to punch these rich brats is ridiculous.” Dean huffs before knocking back his second shot of Jack in the last hour.

“Dean…it’s like 2pm and you’re on the clock. You can’t drink.” Sam scoffs letting out a heavy sigh, he doesn’t know why he bothers. His brother has been and will always be a stubborn fuck.

“Shut your pie hole, Sammy.”

“Pace yourself, dude.”

“I can’t help it. I’m already getting sick of these entitled assholes, man.” Dean groans theatrically, suddenly envious of his younger brother’s easy life guarding job.

“Summer just started. It’s the peak season for assholes.” Sam snickers knowingly, pouring himself a huge glass of ice water while on his break.

“Oh I’m aware. That’s why I’m picking up more shifts.”

“How does that make sense?”

“What can I say? Assholes tip well.” Dean answers with a crooked smile pulling at his lips.

“I wish I got tips.” Sam mumbles frowning adorably, before chucking a large green olive into his mouth.

“Yeah must be tough. You frolic on a private beach, gazing at all the hot chicks sauntering on by. You poor bastard.” Dean does a quick surveillance of the area then playfully shoves his brother’s shoulder.

“Well…my break is over. I guess it’s back to my job. Such torture.” Sammy cackles at the dirty scowl thrown his way, it soon turning into a strong bitch face.

The affluent resort guests start to stroll into the bar area, keeping Dean busy as he continues to hide his aggravation. Thrilled to finally see a friendly face, he smiles when a happy-go-lucky coworker appears before him.

“Hey buddy…”

“What’s up, Garth?”

“The…uh…the boss wants to see you. Now.”

“Son of a bitch. Crowley’s the biggest pain in my ass.”

“He’s moodier than usual today. Just a warning.” Garth delivers wearily, bummed that he’s the one pushing his friend into the hell fire.

“Wonderful. I’ll be right back.” Dean swears under his breath while bolting towards his boss’s office. Already dreading what’s about to take place, he momentarily ponders whether he should even show up.

Dean quickly decides against bailing, unfortunately he needs this job to pay off the huge annoyance known as his college tuition. Having just graduated from Suffolk University over a month ago, he has student loans up the god damn wazoo.

“Come in.” Dean hesitates before unwillingly entering the pit also known as Crowley’s office. The staff do their best to always obey his rules, wanting to rarely cross paths with the grouchy man. Dean on the other hand, he doesn’t give a flying fuck and challenges his authority on the regular.

“Want to tell me what you’re wearing?” Crowley narrows his cold eyes, waiting for the wise ass remarks that will undoubtedly pour out of Dean’s mouth.

“It’s called Givenchy Play. The ladies love it. The scent drives them crazy. You should try it. Might help you get a date.” Dean smirks at the unamused expression on his boss’s face, he just loves annoying the hell out of him.

“Hilarious.” Crowley swiftly leaps out of his desk chair and moves fast towards his defiant employee.

“Those shorts are not policy, Winchester. What the hell is with all the pockets?”

“They’re cargo shorts. And I know there’s a rip on the side but I didn’t notice it until I was already at work.”

“Bloody hell. Are you under the false impression that you’re on a camping trip?! This is a five star resort, Winchester. You can’t just mosey about looking like a frat boy doing the walk of shame!”

“Just for the record…I always look good doing the walk of shame.” Dean laughs out causing Crowley to harshly pinch the bridge of his nose.

“This is the third time you’ve violated the uniform policy, Dean. I’ve fired people for a hell of a lot less so get your damn act together. For some reason the guests rave about the strange concoctions you always create at the bar. If it wasn’t for that you’d be gone by now.”

“I can’t help that I’m a popular. I honestly just throw random crap together. I think it’s my amazing charm and looks that really does the trick.” Dean boasts, enjoying the fact that his boss’s neck vain is now making an appearance.

“Run home and change into the appropriate attire, Winchester.” Crowley demands ignoring the smugness radiating off of Dean.

“You’re not floating around this resort looking like a slob for the rest of your shift.”

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.” Dean’s eyes widen when his brain registers what just fell out of his mouth.

“What was that?”

“Um. Nothing…”

“Get moving.” Crowley rubs his exhausted eyes as Dean heads out the door, inwardly moaning when the trouble maker turns wearing a mischievous smile.

“By the way…I don’t float. I swagger.”

“Out!” Crowley furiously barks making Dean rush out of the door with his signature cocky grin.

Rapidly turning the corner into the large lobby, Dean nearly collides right into you. He automatically thinks that you’re beyond gorgeous and it makes his heart jump. The look of surprise on your pretty face somehow making you even more attractive.

For a split second, Dean forgets how irritated he is with Crowley but it doesn’t last too long. Running into you is another reminder of how annoying this day has become.

Normally he would sweet talk a girl like you so fast it would make your head spin. But Dean’s been down this road before and it’s always been a bumpy one. The chicks that stay at the resort are always spoiled, bitchy and living off of daddy’s money. Dean’s all set with that noise.

“Sorry!” You giggle taking a step back, now fully aware that the man before you is crazy handsome. Noticing his uniform, you decide to ask him a question. Anything that will keep him in your sights for as long as possible.

“Are there any good places to eat around here? Outside of the hotel?” You start fidgeting with your gold bracelets, silently yelling at yourself to not be a spaz.

“You should probably just stick to the fancy restaurant we have in house, sweetheart. It’s not a good idea to venture outside of your comfort zone.” Dean delivers with a moody tone, his demeanor changing drastically from ten seconds ago.

“Excuse me?” You quirk an offended eyebrow, wondering who the hell pissed in his mouth while he was sleeping.

“Have a nice day, Miss.”

Dean gives you a strained smile before darting off in the opposite direction. He grumbles to himself while high tailing it home in his precious Impala.

Frustrated with himself, Dean now feels really shitty over how he treated you. Based on your expensive looking threads alone, he assumed that you were the typical rich bitch. But you seemed different than the usual wealthy girls he encounters, you actually acted nice towards him.

“Whatever.” Dean mutters to himself riffling through his dresser drawer, attempting to find his mandatory uniform shorts.

Finally spotting them, Dean quickly remembers why he stopped wearing them. He threw the shorts in the dryer, shrinking them down a size to the point where it’s really fucking noticeable.

“Son of a bitch.” He growls loudly while staring at his dumb ass reflection in the bathroom mirror.

Debating if he should risk disobeying Crowley, Dean slams his front door shut wanting this never ending day to just be over. Ignoring the anger bubbling inside his chest, Dean races back to work in his too tight shorts feeling uncomfortable as fuck.

Barely avoiding the snickers and stares from the guests, Dean speed walks back to the bar to take over. Giving Garth the evil eye, he avoids any embarrassing remarks coming his way. Until his brother shows up.

“Dude…what’s with the short shorts?” Sam full on cracks up at the sight, unable to stop the loud noises coming from his mouth.

“You should’ve shaved your legs.” He continues now with tears in his eyes.

“Shut it, Sammy! I threw them in the dryer by mistake and shrunk the shit out of them. It’s the only pair I have.”

“You have tons of shorts.”

“These are the only ones I have that are company approved. Crowley has already written me up three times. If it happens again then I won’t get my summer bonus. That’s if he lets me keep my job at all.”

“He just loves you so much.” Sam snorts watching Dean try to make his shorts less visible behind the bar.

“Fuck you.”

“Shit. My shift’s over. It’s too bad I won’t be around longer to make fun of you.”

Dean opens his mouth, about to spit a stinging insult but gets cut off by a guest looking for a Sea Breeze. Instead having to settle with subtly giving his younger brother the finger.

“Y/N?” Sam does a double take as he steps away from the bar. Realizing it really is you, he couldn’t be more thrilled.

“Sam! Oh my god. How are you?” You jump into his jacked arms, chuckling as he picks you up like he always used to.

“Wow. Y/N L/N in the flesh. I almost didn’t recognize you. It’s good seeing ya, kiddo.”

“I know, right? Jess mentioned you were working at a resort this summer but didn’t say which one. What are the odds?” You smile wide, remembering all the fun times you had with Sam and your cousin Jess. Those were the days.

“Since when does nannying pay so well?” He quirks an eyebrow suspiciously, motioning to the Louis Vuitton bag on your shoulder.

“Oh. It’s a requirement.” You roll your eyes with a goofy smile but it falters when you see the jerk from earlier behind the bar.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m nannying for a new family now. My boss is ridiculously rich and successful. They actually bought me clothes to wear when I’m out with them. No nanny of theirs will be seen in clothes from Kohls. The horror.” You feign shock dramatically before breaking out into chuckle.

“Seriously? That’s ridiculous. Not surprising but ridiculous.”

“I need to play the part, Winchester. You know I’d rather be wearing ripped jeans and a t-shirt.” You lazily shrug staring down at your expensive dress. You’re way too clumsy to pull off white.

“Yeah I know. Either way you look great, Y/N.” Sam assures you like the total sweetheart he is.

“You can finally meet my brother! He’s working behind the bar.”

“That’s Dean? Awesome. He was a dick to me earlier.” You huff loudly, it now obvious that you’re glaring at him.

“I guarantee he thinks you’re a stuck up rich girl. He hasn’t had the best experiences in the past. All those stories I’ve told you about him are true. He’s a good guy.”

“Judging a book by its cover. Tsk tsk, Dean.” You grumble bitterly under your breath, not noticing Sam’s amused reaction.

Sam ignores your protest, trying to make you follow him over to the bar. Wanting to properly introduce you and his brother, hoping Dean doesn’t fuck it up this time.

“Nah I’m good.” You wave him off, not missing the stubbornness evident in his features.

“Just humor me. Please?” You refuse to give in to his hazel puppy dog eyes, which doesn’t seem to matter when Sam suddenly calls his brother over. Ugh.

“Dean…I want you to meet someone.” Sam doesn’t miss the dirty look directed his way. Oh his brother is such a joy. Immediately recognizing you from earlier, Dean is now torn on how to react.

You start rambling once Dean walks up to you, pulling confused faces from both brothers. “Hi Dan. So I need you to go and…” After skipping a beat the older Winchester cuts in to correct you with a puss on his face.

“Dean.”

“What?”

“My name is Dean.” He quietly growls, side eyeing Sam who has already caught on to what you’re doing.

“Right. Anyways…I need you to go pickup an Iced Caramel Macchiato from the Starbucks down the street. And stop at a CVS as well because I need toothpaste. The brand the hotel has is just not minty enough.” You finish proudly, happy that you got all of that out with a straight face. Hoping not to crack under the heavy gaze of Sam who’s trying not to laugh himself.

“Excuse me?”

“So you’re obviously pretty. There’s just not much happening between the ears, huh? It’s ok. I can talk slower.”

“Listen…I don’t know who the hell…” Dean’s face grows hot, willing himself to relax as he clenches his fists. He doesn’t get the chance to respond because you decide to cut him off again just for fun.

“Oh and buy yourself a new pair of shorts while you’re at it, Dan. The ones you have on right now are…unfortunate.” The tension between you and Dean is now palpable but good ol’ Sammy can’t take it any longer. He bursts out laughing, loving that you can rile up his brother so easily.

“Y/N! You should probably stop now.”

“You know her?!” Dean’s mouth drops, about ready to lunge at his brother.

“Hell yeah! Y/N’s the best. Remember when I mentioned that Jess’s cousin from out of town was staying with her? All last summer? This is her. You were on the road trip with Benny.” Sam explains, thankful that Dean’s body language now looks less angry than did it before.

“Interesting.” Dean replies appearing unsure, not entirely convinced that he should let his guard down.

“I’m a nanny. The family I work for is loaded so I’m not a ‘rich bitch’ as you like to call it. So you can relax, dude.” You roll your eyes, not able to hold back a giggle at the embarrassment on Dean’s face.

“Oh. I…um…well…”

“I think it’s a good time for alcohol.” Sam thankfully interrupts, shaking his head over the dumb ass brother before him.

“Definitely.” You immediately agree already racing towards the bar, leaving the handsome boys in your wake.

“You gonna take your big foot out of your mouth? And be normal now?” Sam crosses his arms knowingly while searching his older brother’s face.

“Shut up. I’m fine.”

“Yeah. Totally cool, calm and collected.” Sam smirks enjoying every second of this, so used to seeing him be smooth around the ladies.

“I got this!”

“She’s gonna eat you alive. You know that right?” Sam warns already knowing his brother is in too deep.

“A girl like Y/N? She can do whatever she wants to me, man.” Dean wiggles his eyebrows already marching in your direction, determined as all hell to win you over.

#2.5 followers oneshot #sam winchester #sam winchester au #crowley au #garth au #jared padalecki #rich bitch #bartender!dean #dean winchester #dean winchester au #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #supernatural #supernatural au #spn reader insert #Jensen Ackles #supernatural fanfic

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diviinedogs · 8 years ago

Note

do you have a klance fic rec?

I did a fic rec a while back over here! but here’s some more fics :oc

I know younger fans follow me so everything in this list like the last one is gonna have no sm/.ut or too much expl/.icit content

THIS IS...... A LOT AND I’M FORGETTING A TON OF FICS I’M CURRENTLY READING because I just read them when they update I don’t have them in bookmarks on my phone but I really should.... I think these are enough for now though, I actually left a bunch of fics out of this one because it was getting too long

if you guys want I could probably make a page of fic recs? let me know :oc

and of course there’s klance-net’s fic library (I help out with it sometimes c:)

nothing’s quite as sweet

Keith is a barista who hates his job. Lance works at the cat shelter across the street.

this is like....... one of my fave Klance fics of all time tbh along with A Fish and A Bird+it’s sequel, Crossroads, and the next two fics

Homesick at Space Camp

Lance realizes he's been an asshole to Keith, and on a diplomatic mission to a key planet for the Voltron alliance he... overcompensates.

the characterizaTION IS THIS FIC IS....... SO GOOD....... and it includes the rest of the team too despite the focus on Lance and Keith and I don’t really see that in other fics tbh

Of Escorts and Espionage

Lance preened. Escort? That sounded kind of sexy and badass. “Why, of course, Princess,” he said, standing up to offer his hand at Allura. “I would escort you to the most Galra-infested reaches of the galaxy if you asked.”

Allura’s arm rose but the hand she placed in Lance’s palm was not hers.

It was Keith’s.

there’s some smut here but I think you could easily skip over it

Handbook of Demonology

This psychic—Lance the Lucid, according to the posters, and Keith wasn’t even going to comment on that—was a charlatan, plain and simple, and Keith kind of wanted to punch him. Sure, Lance knew how to put on a show, but Keith doubted there was anything more to the act than charm and dramatic flair.

Pidge sighed, catching Keith’s eyes. “At this point, they’re pretty much our only hope.”

While searching for the truth behind their families' disappearance, Keith and Pidge hire a pair of amateur witches to help summon the demon Zarkon. They accidentally summon Allura instead.

Ignorance is Bliss

As it turns out, learning that your house is haunted makes the ghosts a lot more aggressive. Who knew?

Ah, well. At least one of them is hot. And he's the less-evil one, too, so that's always a plus.

Foreign Scenes

Lance has been dreaming of travelling since the first time he heard stories from his family as a child. Now, having finally the time and money to do it, he goes on a trip to Europe to see some of the most culturally rich cities on the continent. Except he keeps bumping into the same guy over and over again, in random cities, doing stupid shit, and ultimately dragging Lance into his trouble, too.

Basically an AU in which Lance and Keith become impromptu travel buddies and get into trouble.

Would You Want Me (If I Want You)

“Well, maybe you just need to relax,” Lance said with a hum, running a hand through his hair as he grinned down at Keith, his back towards the roof. “So just… lean back and enjoy the weightlessness. It’s…. Nice, right?” Lance didn’t know why he was feeling so sheepish all of the sudden, his lips a thin line. Maybe it was the way Keith looked at him from behind his hair, or the fingers clutching the fabric of his shirt, or the slim legs intertwined with his, or the way the lighting seemed to bounce off of Keith’s skin like he was made of glass.

Whatever it was, it made Lance want to do something stupid.

Or; Keith discovering Lance enjoys messing with Altean technology a bit more than he should leads to Keith finally acting on how he feels.

After talking it out, of course.

can you tell me

Keith works in his brother's coffee shop for the summer, expecting a boring break before college. Lance changes all of that.

The boy is still in the front of the group, but he doesn't take off his glasses so Keith can't tell what he's really looking at -- either the menu or Keith. Keith feels a flash of annoyance but smothers it and pins his smile in place.

anything by this author is greAT so yeah :oc

all we have to do

Keith gets hurt during a mission, and Lance is not sure how to handle that.

Lance wakes up on the floor outside of the medical bay, jerking wildly, body a mess of aches and twinges.

Make Me Your Home

“Oh my god, Keeeith,” Lance wheezed. “Keith you’re the best drunk space cadet I’ve ever seen.”

“Space cadet,” Keith mumbled. He repeated the words again although his eyes had zeroed in on Lance’s hands and Lance offered no resistance when Keith picked one of them up and pulled it possessively towards his lap. He began to gently trace over Lance’s fingers, sending shivers up Lance’s arm and down his spine. “You have looong fingers,” Keith murmured after a few moments.

Keith’s face perked up then, as if he’d just had a brilliant idea, and Lance could almost not wait to hear what new obscure thought had entered Keith’s pretty head. He was prepared to laugh, and instead found himself shivering again as Keith leaned far into his personal bubble, lips practically touching Lance’s ear when he spoke next.

“I bet you could reach all kinds of things, Lance.”

some ns/f.w but it’s minor

Medical Duty

Blue is the color of loyalty, so somehow that translates to Lance being the team medic. Except his only first aid skills come from putting bandaids on his younger siblings, and Keith seems to be physically incapable of not getting punched by every new alien they meet.

The Arch Project

When Lance McClain gets promoted to a top secret research project he is delighted to learn that the old conspiracy theories about something crashing in the desert of New Mexico were not entirely wrong. No one is entirely sure what it is that crashed, but it appears to be a man. A very pretty man who hasn't woken up since the crash. Lance is determined to be the first person on the project in a century to finally crack the case of just what this unconscious being is. Human, alien, or something else entirely? But there are forces out there determined to uncover the truth, and steal it if they must. The Voltron Group, a well known hacker group in the research world will apparently stop at nothing to find out what Galra Associated Corperation is hiding. And sooner or later, Lance will have to choose where his loyalties lie.

this fic just started but tbh I’m really excited for it it sounds cool and I don’t think I’ve seen another fic/AU like it :oc

Shadow of the Past / Ghost of the Future

When Lance is thrown through time, he finds himself one year in the future, in place of the Lance that should be here.

He finds his team to be remarkably familiar, yet distinctly different. They have more scars, a better grip on the whole saving the universe thing, and over a year’s worth of teamwork to bind them together. But the weirdest part? Keith seems to be a lot more touchy with him. Not that he’s complaining… much.

The team must try and work out how to reverse the two Lance’s places and restore them to their original timelines. But despite the fact that they’re still his friends, Lance can’t help but feel a little out of place among a team that’s been through so much with a Lance that just isn’t him. And it doesn’t help that the team is on edge around him, refusing to tell him anything for fear of influencing and changing the past. Things get even more complicated when they have to rely on the team in the past to complete the switch, leaving Lance to little more than sit, wait, and attempt to fill in his future self’s shoes.

When Lance is thrown through time, his future self from one year ahead is transported to the past in his place.

This Lance is faster, stronger, and markedly more mature. Not only that, but he's distinctly more intuitive about his teammates and A LOT more touchy with Keith.

The team must try and work out how to reverse the two Lance's places and restore them to their original timelines. Things only get more complicated when the Future Lance can't seem to remember where he was when the switch happened, and he refuses to reveal anything about his own time for fear of influencing the team's decisions.

the other fics by the authors are great too :oc

Your Songs Remind Me Of Swimming

A small cove sheltered by rocks opens Lance's eyes to something he had never seen before. He was never much for believing in the supernatural, but maybe all those sea shanties were true.

I love........ siren/mermaid Keith so much just look at my url a/sdkf;jk

lungs

After a near drowning experience as a child in which he doesn't remember how he survived, Lance avoids the ocean he once loved. He doesn't realize that's where his savior lives.

Or: a slice-of-life story about a boy and his mermaid.

another mermaid Keith!

#anon #ask

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biofunmy · 6 years ago

Text

Against Nihilism

Kate Ferro for BuzzFeed News

After a big breakup earlier this year — I was the one who ended things — I gave myself a lot of room to grieve in whatever ways felt good at the time. Ordering takeout for both lunch and dinner? Sure. Downing IPAs while watching women’s soccer at 10 in the morning? No problem. Draining my savings on weird funky clothing and yet another pair of clogs? You bet!!!

According to the tenets of modern pop feminism, I’m entitled to a certain amount of overindulgence because, as a hardworking woman, I’ve earned it. Everything from institutional sexism to harassment to heartbreak can supposedly be assuaged by a couple bottles of wine with a group of good girlfriends. The treacly “Treat yo self” mantra popularized on Parks and Recreation has enabled many a stressed-out woman to place that $800 Anthropologie order (you can always return most of it, right?). Life is hard and the world is on fire; maybe we deserve to indulge in some good old simple pleasures.

So what if wine is a carcinogen and the alcohol industry has actively worked to downplay the link between drinking and cancer? So what if fast fashion is built on exploitative labor and contributes to mass global pollution? So what if the concept of self-care — popularized by Audre Lorde, a black lesbian activist battling breast cancer — has been co-opted to sell us things we don’t need, things which indirectly harm others and might actually harm us in the end? We’ve earned it, ladies!

I’d like to think I don’t actively buy into the capitalist vision of self-care, even as I’ve thrown my money into its maw; at least, I don’t assume any sort of entitlement to feeling good via the accumulation of material things. More so, I just thought…fuck it.

A few months ago, drunk in the middle of the day, I impulse-bought a Juul at a bodega in downtown Manhattan. I’d been taking hits off my friends’ vapes for months, only after I’d had enough to drink that smoking became pleasurable instead of disgusting. That was the rule I’d used for myself previously with cigarettes: I could never buy my own, but if I was drunk, I could bum one or two or five. Actually owning a Juul, as much as I liked to think the vapor or whatever made them safer than my beloved Marlboro Lights, was definitely breaking the rules. But I’d reached a point where I no longer cared.

While other people were having their hot girl summers, I spent mine flirting with a sense of doom I haven’t experienced since I was a hope-starved teen. (Nihilism: It’s back in style, just like denim miniskirts!). And I’m not alone. Twitter offers a daily glut of jokes about the apocalypse; things have gotten so bad we’re begging for vaping or an asteroid or alien overlords to finally put us out of our misery. The novelist Jonathan Franzen published a (much-maligned) essay this past weekend about climate change, arguing that the oncoming disaster is impossible to mitigate and “we” can no longer pretend otherwise. (“Every day, instead of thinking about breakfast,” he wrote, we all “have to think about death.”) Reading recently about presidential candidate Andrew Yang’s dystopian vision of the future, I found myself dismayed, and thoroughly dragged, by Max Read’s description of a “doomer,” the archetypal internet memer who believes we’re all totally fucked: “a depressed, purposeless 20-something usually depicted smoking a cigarette and wearing a beanie.”

Okay, I’m not a doomer, but I have become somewhat fatalistic lately. With talk of another recession and the continued possibility of dying in a mass shooting or some sort of natural disaster, the scarcity mindset I’d developed as the child of a parent living paycheck to paycheck kicked back in again. Thanks to a few greedy corporations and crisis-denying national governments, climate catastrophe seems inevitable — no matter what personal choices I make about things like food or travel or children.

So why bother saving for the future if there isn’t even going to be a future? Why bother being kind to my body by taking it easy on the beer and potato skins when all the crap I consume might not catch up with me by the time that not-future comes to pass? No matter how I treated myself — and no matter what infinitesimal steps I took to be a better human citizen — we’d all end up in the same place in the end.

For a while during my “fuck it” summer, it felt great to be a mess, if only because of its implicit rejection of corporatized self-care’s evil twin: self-optimization. Since diets have become passé, we’ve entered a new era defined by “wellness,” but women are still expected to meet Eurocentric and patriarchal beauty standards — only, unlike with dieting, we’re now supposed to feel good about attempting to contort ourselves into socially acceptable bodies.

Fuck other people’s narrow ideas about the only right ways to live a good and happy life.

“Wellness” conjures images of Gwyneth Paltrow peddling hundreds of dollars’ worth of Goop vitamins and oils and crystals and juices to customers who, because they are not wealthy celebrities, will never look like Gwyneth Paltrow. Organic vegetables and private Pilates instructors are the provinces of rich people who have the time and money to optimize their bodies as if it’s their job (because it is). Fuck wellness! I thought, ordering chips and queso for the third time in a week. Fuck other people’s narrow ideas about the only right ways to live a good and happy life.

But was my life really better, or happier? I loved taking shots with my sister at my favorite dive bar, bonding in a way we sometimes struggle to when sober. But I hated that by the time we got home I was sobbing on the couch about our fraught relationship with our mother, some deep dark part of me ripped open and exposed to the unforgiving light. I loved the dopamine rush of confirming yet another online shopping order, but I hated having to return half the crap once it piled up in my bedroom. I hated hangovers, mountains of takeout containers, and the point at which my Juul would stop giving me a stream of little highs and instead just start making me sick.

Amazon Studios / Courtesy Everett Collection

Jillian Bell in Brittany Runs a Marathon.

Last weekend, I took myself on a date to the movies. I saw Brittany Runs a Marathon, which is the exact kind of movie I’ve been seeking out lately: funny, uplifting, and you know going in exactly what you’re getting. Keep your twist endings, Quentin Tarantino! I’ll watch the movie where the ending is literally spoiled by the film title.

Paul Downs Colaizzo’s indie movie, which won the Audience Award in the US Drama category at Sundance, stars Jillian Bell as the titular Brittany, a goofy twentysomething in a major life rut. A doctor tells her she has an unhealthy BMI (proven to be a bogus measure of a person’s health) and that she needs to lose 50 pounds. This leads Brittany — and Bell herself — to attempt to shed the weight of a “small Siberian husky” over the next year, at the end of which Brittany plans to run the New York City Marathon.

A movie about a woman trying to find fulfillment through weight loss sounds pretty out of step with our current cultural moment, when fat acceptance and body positivity have been gaining significant ground. Kate Browne in Runner’s World argues that the movie functions as “fitspo” by conveying to viewers that if you lose weight, you, too, can achieve your dreams. “The story we’re too often told about fatness and running,” she wrote, “is that body size is an obstacle to overcome in our quest for glory.” Madison Malone Kircher, in a piece for Vulture, made similar points: “In Brittany Runs a Marathon, being fat is portrayed as a starting point instead of just a state of being.”

I, too, would have preferred a movie in which Brittany ran a marathon after gaining back all the weight she initially lost while training — proving to herself, and to viewers, that she could do remarkable things at any size. Still, I think the film does complicate more straightforward and more explicitly anti-fat weight loss narratives in popular culture by making clear that personal fulfillment and a small waist aren’t inextricably intertwined.

Soon before she’s set to run her first marathon (spoilers ahead), Brittany pushes herself too hard in her attempt to lose her final 10 pounds; she deprives herself of food and ends up in the hospital with a stress fracture. She has to miss the race. While recovering, she’s much thinner but more miserable than ever. In the film’s cringiest scene, Brittany gets drunk and heckles a fat woman at her brother-in-law’s birthday party, refusing to believe that the woman’s “average” size partner could actually love and desire a fat person. At other moments, she makes jealous assumptions about a (thin) neighbor she doesn’t actually know; she begrudges a married friend his happy domesticity with his husband and children. The film suggests that Brittany’s main problem has never been her weight — it’s that she’s convinced all her woes have nothing to do with her own actions and that other people, in turn, don’t deserve their happiness.

Amazon Studios / Courtesy Everett Collection

Patch Darragh and Jillian Bell in Brittany Runs a Marathon.

At the end of the movie, when Brittany signs up for the marathon again the next year and actually makes it to the race — cheered on by friends she’d previously spurned — I cried. I cried because it was, yes, inspirational, but I was also moved by the way the story managed to explore personal autonomy and desire in a self-improvement narrative without discounting the significant role played by larger systemic forces.

No, Brittany shouldn’t have to lose weight to be treated with respect — but the material reality of her life is that, when she’s thinner, she’s actually “treated like a woman,” as she tells her soon-to-be boyfriend: People smile at her; they hold the door for her on the subway. No, it isn’t fair that the fancy gym she tries to join when she first decides to lose weight is cost prohibitive to so many people — but that doesn’t discount the fact that running, and other ways of moving one’s body, are completely free.

I cried because I’ve long resented all the pressure I feel to work out and eat “well” and drink less and sleep more. So much of that pressure comes from a world hellbent on optimizing our bodies and brains for workplace efficiency, for social acceptance, for conventional beauty standards, for “normalcy.” It’s pressure designed to make us believe the world will become less of a hellscape through mere personal effort, rather than structural change.

But what if we don’t make those choices (just) to make ourselves more palatable to the world around us? Yes, living “well” — if we’re financially and physically able — benefits The Man. That doesn’t change the fact that treating our bodies with respect and care might benefit us too.

When I first thought about quitting drinking, about a month ago, I read Sarah Hepola’s 2015 recovery memoir, Blackout: Remembering the Things I Drank to Forget. I sobbed through the last 50 pages. (Yes, I’ve been crying a lot lately.) She talks about how, even after she got sober, she still wasn’t taking care of herself: lots of takeout, not a lot of making the bed or hanging up her laundry.

I told myself this was OK, because our society was beyond warped in its expectations of women, who were tsunamied by messages of self-improvement, from teeth whiteners to self-tanners … I wanted to kick the whole world in the nuts and live the rest of my years in sweatpants that smelled vaguely like salami, because who really cares?

But then, after a while, Hepola realized: She cared. She realized she didn’t need to make her body and home feel and look better to please men, or because it was what she was “supposed” to do. “I should take care of myself because it made me happy,” she wrote.

After finishing the book, I wondered if, angry at the propagandist sham of American individualism and bootstraps meritocracy, I’d course-corrected a little too hard — giving up on trying to improve myself or the world around me.

Eddy Chen / HBO

Zendaya as Rue on Euphoria.

My nihilism was both political and personal. Politically, I’d become Chidi, the philosophy scholar on The Good Place, who ends up in Hell because of his ethical indecision. At one point, after grasping so desperately for moral purity and failing to find it, he gives up. “The world is empty,” he yells. “There is no point to anything. And you’re just gonna die. So do whatever!” Personally, I saw myself as Euphoria’s Rue (minus the hard drug-taking), who returns to her life of debauchery after getting clean in rehab because she doesn’t see the point in trying to get better. “The world’s coming to an end,” she says in the first episode, “and I haven’t even finished high school yet.”

It’s a lot easier to believe that you can’t do much to improve your moods, your relationships, and the way your body feels while simultaneously believing you can’t do much to improve those things for other people, either. Abdicating that sense of any responsibility let me avoid a deeper, darker worry: that prioritizing the self is, by nature, saying to hell with everyone else.

My obsession with that particular quandary led me to Trisha Low’s new book-length essay, Socialist Realism, in which she attempts to reconcile her desire for the comforts of love and home with her desire for a socialist utopia. Is it even possible to pursue personal happiness and fulfillment while prioritizing The Greater Good at the same time?

“Home,” she writes. “It’s just something to contain our misplaced desires for a better world. How can we willingly long for that?” Her work is built upon that of her teacher, the academic José Esteban Muñoz, who famously theorized that queerness is, by its very nature, not-yet-here — “that thing that lets us feel that this world is not enough.”

In Megan Milks’s review of Socialist Realism for Bookforum, she notes that a decade ago “many queers were enamored with the alluring radicality of queer negativity” — think Lee Edelman’s 2004 polemic No Future, about the queer death drive — but “in the Trump era such grandiose nihilism seems puerile.”

I loved Low’s book for its messiness, its sense of struggle — a perfect depiction of the constant tugging I feel within myself every day, between my desire to deal with the realities of my own life and my desire to think on bigger, more ambitious scales. “Whatever,” Low eventually concludes. “You can make utopia out of almost anything.”

Since last month, I’ve stopped consuming alcohol (for now, though maybe also for longer). I threw away my Juul, then got jealous that I didn’t get rid of it more dramatically when I saw somebody smash theirs with a hammer on Instagram. Even King Princess, the Gen Z queen of Juuls, recently quit — a harbinger of change if I’ve ever seen one.

I’m trying to whittle away at my nihilism (both the personal and the political) in other small ways. I signed up for a trial at a rental clothing company, with the hopes that I’ll spend less money on shopping and contribute less waste. I’ve stopped eating beef, hopefully en route to full-fledged vegetarianism. And I joined a powerlifting gym after my friend Katie, who is basically a lifting influencer, extolled its many virtues. I’m hoping the sport’s focus on strength and power, rather than weight loss, will help me stop punishing my body for the way it looks and start celebrating it for what it can do.

I’ve had these little bursts of self-improvement projects before, but in the past I’ve always gotten bored and given up eventually. I’d start drinking again. I’d order a bunch of crap I didn’t need from companies that mistreat their workers and actively make the world worse. Whatever, who cares, nothing matters.

Just last week I caved and ordered six different white T-shirts and a $200 pair of boots. (“Basics!” I told myself. “Just the basics!”) I know I’m still going to have nights where I eat only popcorn for dinner and watch six straight episodes of Love Island and bum hits from my friends’ Juuls. I think what’s most important is that I’m at least trying to train myself to rely on more than just instant gratification. To have faith that, if I’m lucky, there’s a lot more life I’ve yet to live.

Critics of Franzen’s New Yorker piece on the climate apocalypse pointed out that the author’s climate projections are seriously flawed and his conclusions perhaps even more so. After taking swipes at everyone, from the evil science-deniers on the right to the overly optimistic peddlers of the Green New Deal on the left, Franzen sees hopeful futures for community gardens and CSA programs, but not much else.

“If your hope for the future depends on a wildly optimistic scenario,” he wrote, “what will you do ten years from now, when the scenario becomes unworkable even in theory? Give up on the planet entirely?”

What a patronizing way to address anyone who dares to dream. Teenage climate activist Greta Thunberg hasn’t documented her climate depression or dared adults to consider the impact of their personal choices just to piss off a bunch of man-baby conservatives. As a young person, she’s more than justified in fearing for her future, but despite her anger and her sadness — because of her anger and her sadness — she still believes in something better. Why bother even trying otherwise?

Yes, living “well” — if we’re financially and physically able — benefits The Man. That doesn’t change the fact that treating our bodies with respect and care might benefit us too.

Corrupt corporations and governments do hold the most blame, and the most significant obligations, when it comes to righting our course. But there is no easier way to shirk consumer responsibility — whether you’re eating beef, or flying a lot, or holding onto that unholy Amazon Prime subscription — than by self-soothing with the leftist adage that “there’s no ethical consumption under capitalism.”

As Charlotte Shane recently wrote in a piece about Jonathan Safran Foer’s We Are the Weather (yet another collection of Big Climate Thoughts by yet another underqualified white guy), holding institutions accountable “can’t be a ploy to deﬂect attention from our own culpability … No matter how otherwise constrained our circumstances, we can always choose each other, choose solidarity, choose effort. Every time we do, we’re making headway toward a new habit, a self-reinforcing orientation that alters the fabric of who we are and how we live.”

Is there anything in this world harder than trying to be both happy and good?

I’ve been listening to Lana Del Rey’s Norman Fucking Rockwell on repeat since the album dropped, which has put me in the perfect mood for my sad girl fall. But as much as Lana sings her beautiful, dreamy way through the depressing fog that is modern living, she still ends the album on somewhat of a high note. “Hope is a dangerous thing for a woman like me to have,” she croons on the very last song. “But I have it.”

May we all, Lana. May we all. ●

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