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shini--chan · 3 years

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Yandere England HCs

I remember somewhere around here in my inbox somebody requested yandere England hcs. If I recall correctly, there handle was @hehehhewaitwhat Sadly, the ask has vanished from the box, but I still recall receiving it! So here you go:

Yandere England

Arthur would be one of the yanderes that would play it cool at first. No cool isn’t the right word – it is cold. He would believe in keeping a tight control on his emotions, least they take over him and he is no longer his own master. All in all, a very good idea, it is just the matter of execution that matters – Arthur would be doing this in a very unhealthy way. He’d bottle up his feeling on a large part, refusing to analysis them and locate the source, not to mention expressing his emotions in healthy ways. And here would be where the yandere tendencies start to blossom.

It would result in all his ignored and unacknowledged feelings for you start to seep through in the most eery ways, ways that would be borderline toxic. What could have potentially been love would become twisted and wrapped, some of Arthur’s other issues just amplifying this. In the end, he wouldn’t be able to prevent himself from either manipulating you into his web, or outright kidnapping you.

The insistent burning in his veins never ceased, rather it grew even worse when you weren’t close to him. It was magma rolling in his veins, eradicating even more of his rational thoughts the longer he attempted to ignore it.

In an attempt to remedy it, Arthur turned the water in the shower to ice-cold. A mistake on his part. It had gave a sharp contrast and thus made the concoction of emotions stand out all the sharper. It made him wonder if the only cure would be to give into them and let nature take its course.

Yet that was something he couldn’t allow. Emotions were the leftovers of a primordial past – notions that didn’t follow any logic or decency. If they weren’t controlled, then they would control.

He turned his face up to the stream of water, as if it could wash away all the sinful thoughts about you that had begun to haunt him. That was a tragedy on its own – he never could be rid of you. You would come to haunt his dreams uninvited, invade his thoughts unwelcomed. He remembered when his interest in you had just been a mere sapling. Now it was a field of weeds, a contagion that was completely out of his control and still demanded his attention.

He shouldn’t have ignored his love when it had started to sprout, for now it had turned into obsession.

Of course, he’ll try the former way first before anything else – he would know that you wouldn’t really appreciate it if he abducted you. England would turn the charm on and boy, can he be charming when he wants to be. It wouldn’t be in grand, over the top gestures – that is for amateurs. It would come in small, effective gestures that would become bigger over time – freshly picked flowers from his garden, biscuits he made himself and then he would go over to bigger presents like a dinner in a fancy restaurant. His aim would be to have you completely smittened before he would start to cut you off from the rest of the world and to mould you into what constitutes for a perfect person.

It was a fine day; the sun painting the sky in a kaleidoscope of warm colours and caused the green of the hills to become so saturated. Or maybe it was because you were in love that the world was all the more vivid, that the air smelled sweeter and the arm that was curled around your waist felt so right.

Arthur was being charming, a good-natured smile making his sharp features softer. He had taken you out to dinner tonight, a brief affair at a rustic inn out in a no-name little village. Yet the simple meal had been the best you had had in a long time.

So, with a full stomach in satisfaction in your heart, Arthur was accompanying you back home on this summer’s evening.

“My dear, that was a very wonderful day with you”, he remarked warmly, echoing your thoughts.

“Yes, it was. You couldn’t have picked a better place to go out. I would like to do such a thing again.”

He chuckled lowly at your affirmation. “Oh, love. I wouldn’t mind doing that every day with you for the rest of our lives.”

Under other circumstances, if you weren’t so smittened with him, you would realise that what he had said couldn’t be right. Good days can’t be copy-pasted on the future forever, happiness can’t be played constantly on repeat. It has to be experienced, the cause ever varied and reinvented so that it doesn’t become dull.

Yet you weren’t not in love with him. You were neither alarmed by the clinginess the statement implied or by how sappy it was. And that was exactly what Arthur wanted.

To be clear, he wouldn’t want a weak, stupid lover. There would be nothing more off-putting to him than a whiny, spineless idiot who can’t do anything on their own. In that way, you could say he’d have high standards. He’d want somebody who is a challenge, you’d be tactful in their conduct and somebody who’d have wit to match his. Arthur has a sharp tongue and even with you he wouldn’t shy away from dispensing chidings and sharp remarks. He’d also demand you have a spine of steel, that you wouldn’t simply cave in the face of danger. If you wouldn’t have these qualities, then you’d have to adopt them, and he would be never uncompromising about that.

Ironically, while he would manipulate you into having these qualities, he wouldn’t tolerate you having them to the extent would make your relationship impossible. He wouldn’t want to be taken care of in the terms of you being the breadwinner, doing business and all that. He would want to fulfil that roles for you, whether you’re a woman or a man. It would be a chronic need to provide for you, to be the dominate one in the relationship.

You sighed for the untempt time this afternoon. No matter how much you read the page of the book, the meaning of the passages eluded you. At this point, you only had a gist of what was going on and it frustrated you to no end.

Carefully, you placed a bookmark on the page that you had been busy with and closed the hard-cover novel quietly. You knew all to well that one of the easiest ways to get Arthur in a hissy fit was to maltreat one of his books. He claimed that books had to be treated with respect, because somebody had once put a lot of effort and time into writing it. A disrespect to the book was therefore an indirect disrespect to the author.

You leaned back in your chair and stared up at the decorations of the room. Arthur of course had to live in a mansion that seemingly was a time capsule for the age of Empire. Talk about being attracted to the glorious old days.

Carding your fingers through your hair, you cursed yourself. When did you get the brilliant idea to study the classics? Oh yes, it was when Arthur mentioned the benefits of higher literature while the two you had been cleaning. He had claimed that the complex characters made the reader better at socializing, at understanding that even the most despicable characters had softer sides. That it made a person for eloquent and at understanding the nuances of reality.

And of course, since you were constantly seeking to improve yourself, you had asked him if you could peruse his library. Arthur had whole-heartedly encouraged you and you knew that he would be extremely disappointed if you abandoned this chance to grow.

So, you opened the book again and reassumed the torture.

The need for dominance would be a manifestation for Arthur’s addiction to be in control. He is sort of the opinion that power is best left in his hands, and that nobody except him can properly wield it. And if he’d have the feeling that his control over would be slipping, then he would lash out. The most physical he’d get with his punishments would be caning. All in all, punishments would always be along the lines of what detention looked like in the old public schools during the Empire.

He would also have a certain image of what intelligent would look like. That would mean restrictions in your activities: no comics, no cartoons, no fizzy drinks, god have mercy on you is you have an addiction because he would have none, he says which parties you’re allowed to go to (that would be more in the beginning of the relationship), no sleeping in, no being lazy. And if you wouldn’t conform, then he’d manipulate you into doing so.

Arthur is a man who would quickly become jealous. He’d be scared if you’d be plotting to leave him, or worse, rope other’s in into helping you plunge a knife in his back. So, he would be quick to convincing you to cut of contact with people that he wouldn’t like. This would be a win-win situation for him because the less social contact you’d have beside him, the deeper your bond with him would become. Further on in your relationship, he’d convince you to rely solely on him and that other people wouldn’t be trustworthy. That he’d be the only person that would ever truly understand you, that would have your best interests at heart, that would help you grow into the best person you could be. That the world is a shit place and that you should be grateful that he is there to shield you from it. In order to encourage that last one, he would allow you to watch the news, extensively.

If wooing you into being with him wouldn’t work, then he would coerce you into a relationship. However, he wouldn’t do anything drastic such as threatening your loved ones, rather the threats would be hidden, or he would present himself as the best option of getting you out a ditch (such as financial issues). He’d try his best to construct the situation so that you would be inclined to trick yourself into thinking you wanted it. Kidnapping would be a last resort for him.

#yandere hetalia #yandere england #yandere headcanons #yandere hetalia x reader #x reader

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longitud-de-onda · 4 years

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mistakes like this

pairing; javier peña x female reader summary; you return home having forgotten your keys, so javi lets you spend the night at his place, both of you pretty tipsy from the night out. rating; nc-17 warnings; alcohol, smut, dubcon a/n; (added feb 22, 2021) i’m no longer writing as much if at all for the fandom, and as such i don’t have the time or energy to rewrite this to match the more consensual sex that i had imagined while writing. however i want to make it clear that as it stands, consent isn’t very clear in this fic, and issues of that consent are mentioned. word count; 3.1k mistakes like this masterlist

You almost fell on the way up to your apartment. Javier, thankfully, was not only right next to you, but coordinated enough to catch you.

You muttered a thank you, as you gripped the handrail a bit tighter to make it the rest of the way up the flight of stairs. Your head was still pounding, an aftereffect of the countless glasses of alcohol you had consumed earlier that night.

Earlier that day you captured one of Escobar’s sicarios after a week without leads. Connie had suggested you all go out and celebrate. The four of you enjoyed each others’ company, but, after a few drinks, Connie and Steve were all over each other, and Javier suggested they head home early to spare everyone at the bar from seeing the two undress each other on the dance floor.

Javier and you stayed for another hour, drinking and talking until it was late enough to call it a night and head home.

You now stood in front of your apartment door rummaging through your purse, trying to find your keys. If they were there, you couldn’t see them. Your stomach sank. And it didn’t mix well with the alcohol. The wave of nausea and frustration caused you to lean your back against the cold door and slide down to the ground.

You stared at a spot on the floor where a fine line split across a yellow tile. Something big must have caused the crack. Something from before the Embassy bought the building.

You glanced up. Javier fumbled with his own keys, not entirely sober enough to open the door in one try and you giggled at the sight.

“Something funny, Y/N?” he turned around, cocking an eyebrow.

“No, no, it’s all fine Javi,” you said, drawing out the ‘i’ in his name, “it’s all good.”

You turned your head back to your purse and dumped all the contents on the ground. No keys anywhere. You groaned. You remembered where you last put them down. Unfortunately, that place wasn’t your purse.

“You sure you’re all good?” Javier asked, leaning in his own (open) doorway, grinning.

“I, uh, I forgot my keys,” you said, “left them in the drawer at the Embassy.”

“Fuck,” Javier said, “If you want, you can stay at mine tonight.”

You figured the alcohol excused the lack of tact. At least you were about 80% sure he wasn’t inviting you to have sex with him. 80% was enough for you when tipsy.

“Fine,” you said, scooping your stuff back into your purse. Standing up was a challenge, your legs a lot shakier than you were used to. You followed Javier into his apartment, muttering a ‘thank you’ along the way. He just nodded back.

“I’m gonna take the sofa, you can take the bed. The bedroom’s in the back,” he said, pointing, as if you had never set foot in his apartment before. You knew very well where the bedroom was. The two of you had been working together for almost five years now, and small dinner parties with Steve and Connie or late nights where you took work from the embassy to someone’s coffee table were not uncommon.

“I can take the couch,” you protested, “It’s your house.”

“Y/N,” Javier walked over to you, placing his hands on your shoulders, both to stabilize you and ensure you looked him in the eye, “You’re gonna take the bed, and I’m gonna sleep on the couch. I know you, and you are going to wake up much more hungover than me, so if the bed is a bit more comfortable, at least you’ll have that going for you in the morning.”

To be honest, you had zoned out after he said the word ‘hungover.’ This was going to hurt tomorrow morning. Javier was right about that; even if you didn’t get drunk too easily, you suffered much more in the morning than the average person. Javier’s reasoning didn’t really matter either because when he held your arms with the force he did and stared into your eyes, saying your name with such agression, you melted. Anything he could have said, you would have agreed to.

You nodded, reaching up to push him off of you. The alcohol in your head mixed with your decision making and if he stayed there even a few seconds longer, you would have fallen deep into his eyes and made a decision you would probably regret in the morning.

You and Javier were coworkers and close friends. You started at the embassy before Steve, and the two of you had grown close, but it was never anything more than friendship. You were his wingman when you went out, you drank together, and he would share all the details of his many conquests.

He was attractive, but that was always a thought you wrote off as a product of an often lonely life (and hearing him have sex at least three times a week through the walls of your shared floor) and would push to the back corner of your mind. You liked how unproblematic your relationship was.

“I’m gonna grab a glass of water,” you said, averting your eyes from Javier’s and making to go to the kitchen.

“That sounds like a great idea,” Javier grinned, trailing behind you.

You grabbed two glasses and filled them from the tap before handing one back to Javier.

“Do you have any pain relievers?” you asked. You leaned up against a counter, one hand gripped to the edge of the laminate. Your head was getting better, but it would still hurt until you fell asleep.

“Yeah, I can go get them,” he said, exhaling with a grimace, implying he might need some himself, “Can you make some toast or something? My stomach is about to start fighting back.”

“Okay,” you smiled. You wanted toast too. Food always helps ease the pain the next morning. Anything extra in your stomach would. You rummaged around his kitchen to find the bread and popped it in the toaster. Drinking the water in your glass helped, both your head and your rationality.

Waiting for the toaster, you let your mind wander. It would have been nice to keep drinking until you were really drunk and spend the rest of the night and morning at the bar, but any longer and Javier would have probably gone home with some girl, leaving you to make it back alone. And you would have returned to some hot, young girl, disheveled and a bit out of it, walking out of Javier’s apartment door, or worse, heard them passionately making love like you heard most nights.

You were reasonably less tipsy when the toaster finished, and you placed each slice on a plate.

“They might be expired,” Javier said from behind you. You jumped, not having heard him approach.

“That’s fine, they usually still work, right?” you said and grabbed the bottle from his hands, dumping out a pill and swallowing it with a sip of water.

“Usually,” he grabbed a plate from the counter next to you and took a large bite, and began talking again with his mouth full, “I already took one so I hope so.”

He rested against the countertop next to you, and the two of you stood eating, the only sound the crunching of the toast. You loved the quiet. You didn’t need to talk to be okay spending time with each other.

When you finished you set your plate down next to you and glanced up at Javier. He had stopped eating a minute ago and now stared at you, half-finished toast on the dish in his hands.

The quiet was now heavy and uncomfortable. Something about his gaze meant something more, but you had no idea what. Your head was clear of the pain, but in its space was the crushing feeling in the air and confusion. Javier was not one to talk much, and if you said anything, it might very well ruin the night.

He swallowed, his neck rippling in the soft light, and you stared back, goosebumps prickling up all over your arms and your stomach tightening. He analyzed you the way he would approach a new case: slowly, methodically, and with a raw intensity that scared most of his coworkers. It didn’t scare you when you were on the clock, but here? Here it sent a shiver down your spine.

He set down his plate, and walked forwards, pinning you against the counter. A hand rose up to push back a strand of your hair that had fallen in front of your face. You breathed deeply.

Then his lips came crashing into yours, arms wrapping you, moving across your back with an intensity you weren’t used to.

You didn’t feel the alcohol running through your body anymore, but it was clearly still working its way through your brain as you kissed back, roughly, one hand holding his jaw, the other gripping around his neck. Javier’s lips were strong and you melted into them, legs beginning to tremble. This was a bad decision, right? You were friends.

But he shoved your hips together, pushing your further against the countertop digging into your back. You let out a moan against his lips and decided to let go. Your mind was awash with thoughts of him. Javier smiling at work, Javier rescuing you from a bad date, Javier’s eyes glistening with excitement as he brought you and Steve to his new favorite restaurant, Javier and you laughing over bad telenovelas with a bottle of wine.

You not wanting to ruin a delicate friendship didn’t matter anymore as he disappeared and began to kiss down your jaw to your neck, mouthing at your skin, sucking marks that would be there at work on Monday, not that you could even think that far ahead.

You worked your hands down his back, reaching the hem of his shirt, which you pushed up, finally getting to run your hands across his skin, pulling his chest towards yours.

With a grunt, Javier reached his hands down under your thighs, lifting you up onto the counter, allowing you easier access to his face as he leaned over you to kiss you again. Your hands returned to the hem of his shirt, pulling it upwards, and he broke off to remove it. Your hands resumed roaming over his hot skin, and his hands slipped under your own shirt. Fingers brushed across your breasts and your arousal built pressure in between your legs.

Javier pulled your shirt over your head, eyeing your chest hungrily. He leaned in to kiss your clavicle, and you threw your head back gasping. His lips moved down to the tops of your breasts, and he reached back to expertly unclasp your bra.

Once he removed the offending article, he buried his face once again in your chest, kissing, licking, and sucking on your nipples and you squirmed on the cold laminate, wanting nothing more than to feel more of Javier. You grasped at his hips again, hoping for some friction, but he pulled back, leaving you whining.

“Bed,” he panted, pulling you gently off the counter.

You nodded. Trying to walk with Javier proved difficult as you struggled to hold yourself up, your whole body shaking with arousal.

He reached his arms under your legs once again, and you jumped into his chest. You pulled him close, his bare skin against your naked breasts causing a swell of need, and you kissed. Javier walked with you to the bedroom, where he dropped you on your back on the soft sheets.

He crawled over top of you, placing kisses every inch from your navel to your neck until he reached your face to once more kiss you passionately on the lips. His hands worked to unbutton your pants and push them down to your knees.

He teased you, hands roaming around your waist, down inside your thighs, and grabbing your ass. His fingers brushed up against your clit, and you let out a loud moan. It was like the moans that kept you up at night when Javier had other girls like you squirming in his bed. While the logical part of your brain told you to stop, you wanted more. It had been a long time since you had gotten any action, and tipsy sex between two friends wasn’t the worst that could happen, right? Plus, the alcohol in your system kept you from saying no to any of it.

“Javi,” you breathed, “Please.”

“Please what?” he asked.

“Please more,” you said. You inhaled and exhaled rapidly, you wanted friction, and you wanted something inside you. Soon.

Javier nodded. He spread his palm over you, squeezing gently, eliciting more sounds out of your control. He slipped a single finger inside you and you writhed underneath him.

“You’re so warm, Y/N” grunted Javier, “So wet for me.”

He leaned down to press a kiss on your lips as he slipped another finger in, and began to move them slowly. You lifted your hips, desperate for more, and he bent his fingers, pushing into all the right spots. He moved with more sensitivity than before, and you took the moment to try to slow down your breathing. Sweat covered your hot body, the sheets sticking to your back, and you felt a build up inside you. As Javier moved more, moved faster, you felt even more empty. You wanted more of him.

You shook at the brink of an orgasm.

“Javi,” you said, “Javi, please. Please. I’m gonna—I’m gonna cum. I want you. Inside. Please.”

He stayed quiet, nipping at your neck, sucking dark purple spots into your skin. His fingers kept moving until they hit exactly where they needed to, and you cried out, clenching around him. You arched up into his chest, hands digging into his back, scratching into his skin.

“Y/N, you’re gonna be the death of me,” Javier said, sitting up straddling your legs. You whined at the sudden lack of contact.

“Javi,” you said, head falling back onto the bed, the rest of your body vibrating with pleasure. He pulled your pants completely off, throwing them across the room. He began to take off his own pants, revealing how much you aroused him.

Javier was no stranger to sex. He was practically an expert if there ever was one at the activity. He reached down to caress your body, rubbing across your stomach and up to your breasts where he squeezed. You were winding up again as he felt you.

You hadn’t ever let any of your alcohol-induced fantasies of Javier reach this point, never allowing yourself to imagine what this could be like. It would have ruined the easy way you lounged around eating pizza and drinking beer together and the casual physical intimacy without any tough emotions involved. But here you lay, a slave to every touch, gasping at his strokes. You wanted nothing but Javier. He was going to be the death of you.

You were utterly fucked. Tomorrow morning, whatever happened, your relationship would never be the same.

Grabbing your hips, Javier pulled you up onto his lap, where he teased at your entrance, his precum mixing with the results of your orgasm. You bucked your hips, silently asking for more, and Javier, firmly gripping your waist, slowly pushed in.

You moaned again with the feeling of fullness. He kept pushing in deeper and deeper. Until he pulled back, leaving you almost entirely empty again, and thrust forward once more, his hands around your waist guiding the motion.

He built up speed and you whispered his name, once, twice, and then again until you repeated it like a mantra. His palm moved to the small of your back, pulling you up into an embrace. As he knelt on the bed, you began to bounce yourself up and down, listening to Javier’s moans.

“Fuck, Y/N. Oh god. Fuck,” Javier exhaled, “Shit, Y/N.”

You wrapped your arms around him, your breasts flush to his chest, and you kissed him, all teeth, biting at his lips, then his jaw down to his neck. His hand on the small of your back pressed you down further with every thrust, and you became desperate for a position that allowed you to feel him deeper.

Javier wanted the same, as he pushed you back down onto the bed, pulling up your waist as he leaned over you, one hand stabilizing himself, the other wrapped firmly around your waist, holding you up in the air, close to him. His face hung over your chest, and as he quickened his thrusts, he took one of your breasts into his mouth, biting and sucking at the nipple.

He slammed his hips into yours, getting deeper and deeper as he hit a spot inside you, making you cry out, loudly. Again and again. Another orgasm threatened to erupt.

His hips stuttered as he let out a groan, and you felt him pulsing inside you. He kept rocking into you as it happened, building up, growing brighter and brighter until everything turned white and your hearing cut out.

When you finally came to, you had collapsed on the bed, breathing heavily. Javier lay on top of you, head right underneath your chin. Just as you went to reach up and wrap your arm around him, he rolled off you and lay down beside you, your arms barely touching.

His breathing slowed, and you waited for him to say something. You hoped for the best but braced for him to kick you out as he did with all the other girls he fucked. As a neighbor with thin walls, you always heard when he finished, along with the doors opening and closing and whatever girl he had brought home leaving the apartment building shortly after.

You didn’t expect him to prop himself up on one arm and kiss you on the forehead.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he whispered before he lay down on his side, facing you, and wrapped an arm around your waist.

He closed his eyes and his breathing slowed. He had almost instantly fallen asleep. You held in a little laugh. Of course Javier would fall asleep right after. You were still coming down from the high, and despite how exhausted you were, it would be a while before you drifted off.

You smiled, watching him. Asleep with his guard down, he had the hint of a smile on his face. He didn’t appear half as tough as he did awake.

You pulled him in closer.

“Goodnight, Javi,” you whispered into the darkness.

next part

#javier peña #javier pena #javier peña x reader #javier pena x reader #pedro pascal #camila writes #rated e #under 5 #reader #smut #pedro fics #narcos fics #javi x reader

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plus-size-reader · 4 years

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Pale Woman

Charles “Chuck” Steinberg x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 1542 words

Warnings: none

Summary: Chuck has a nightmare

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All of your friends knew about Chuck’s nightmares, at least in bits and pieces.

However, no one knew as much as you did.

Chuck had asked you to stay with him for a little while, just until the group of you figured out what was going to happen with that book. He wanted to watch over you, especially since Stella and Ramon were together.

It didn’t make any sense for the two of you to split up in a time like this. Besides, he didn’t really want to sleep alone either, not with those horrible nightmares plaguing his mind.

He had taken to calling her ‘the pale woman’ mostly because it seemed like the most self explanatory title, but that didn’t really give her the credit she deserved.

That creature was the most terrifying thing he’d ever seen with his own two eyes, and with the new threat of his greatest fears coming to life, he was horrified.

If Sarah Bellows really wanted to get inside his head, she could use the red room against him, and he just had this sick feeling that she would.

Though, that existential dread did subside a little when he was with you. He couldn’t help but feel relaxed with you by his side, it was just the effect you had on him.

You always had.

It had been years now, of Chuck hiding the huge crush he had on you from everyone but Auggie. The redhead was his best friend, and while he’d made a few comments here and there in front of you, you had yet to catch on.

Thankfully.

Chuck had told him a million times that if you ever found out about it, he would kill him...literally.

To be fair though, you finding out about his feelings for you seemed to be less and less scary as the threat of dying arose. Maybe it would be a good thing? Maybe if he was going to die anyway, he could spend his last few days with you?

It wasn’t ideal, of course, but it would be better than dying without ever telling you the truth.

As if to urge him into doing it more, you came around the corner, a huge grin on your face. You were still damp from the shower you’d just gotten out of, wearing one of his dad’s old jerseys over your frame.

As much as you tried, you couldn’t quite fit into Chuck’s clothes in a way that would be comfortable to sleep in, so this was a better compromise.

In any case, all thoughts of pale women, red rooms, and death fell away from his mind almost immediately when you came into view. All he could think about then was how beautiful you always were.

It was crazy really,that you didn’t even seem to realize how stunning you were, but you genuinely didn’t know. You spent all your time talking about how you wished you were different.

Your favorite subject currently was Ruth, who had become the main cause of your self hatred as of late. Since you’d been spending more and more time in the Steinberg house, you couldn’t help but notice how beautiful she was.

...And you wanted to be just like her.

You were genuinely convinced that if you woke up tomorrow and looked like that, all your problems would melt away. You would get all the friends in the world, any guy you wanted, and you could finally stop hating what you saw in the mirror.

Chuck thought it was ridiculous.

That was the only problem with you staying here. You had only just stopped occasionally making comments about Stella’s body a few months ago, and now you had a new focus.

In a lot of ways, it just upset him. Chuck was positive that you were the most amazing person he’d ever know in his entire life and there was nothing you needed to change.

It frustrated him to constantly have to hear about the things you didn’t like about yourself.

“Hey”

It was all he could manage, between worrying about you and himself, there wasn’t a lot of smalltalk swarming around in his head but that wasn’t the worst part.

He hadn’t even made a terrible pun at your expense in a few hours, which meant something was really wrong.

...But you didn’t have to ask what it was.

You knew what must have been bothering him and it was the same thing that was bothering you and everyone else who had been in that house that night.

Rightfully so.

Still, you nodded in greeting, plopping down on his bed without much tact at all, snuggling up in his blankets. There was some C list movie playing on his television set, one you’d never seen but he’d probably been watching on repeat.

You’d gotten used to it, but he wasn’t even watching it right now. In fact, when you stopped to think about it, you weren’t even sure that he ever had been.

Chuck had that distant sort of look in his eyes, the one he only got when he was deep in thought or really worried about something and you were sure he wasn’t exactly itching to go to sleep.

Not with some terrible nightmare waiting to paint itself on the back of his eyelids as soon as he closed his eyes for the night.

“Chuck, I’m right here. Nothing is going to happen” you tried, fully understanding that wasn’t going to do much to make him feel better, but you had to try.

No one in their right mind would let someone they cared about struggle without at least attempting to make it better.

“I know” he sighed, desperately hoping that you were right. Frankly, you both knew that no matter what you said, there was nothing that could keep the nightmares from coming, but you did have a point.

At least with you by his side, he knew that he wasn’t totally alone.

...And with that, you both got into bed, keeping your distance from one another in the best way you knew how, with a pillow between your bodies.

It was awkward, for sure, but Chuck didn’t want you to be uncomfortable and he also didn’t want his folks to think that something was up between you two, even if he assured them there wasn’t.

His mother would beat him with a bible if it were.

Surprisingly, the two of you drifted off to sleep pretty easily, with Chuck snoring a few minutes after his head hit the pillow, but it was never going to stay that way.

You wouldn’t be so lucky. Sheer exhaustion was enough to lull you off to sleep but the thing that awaited him in his dreams was quite combative to that.

In fact, it was only a matter of time before he shot up in bed, dripping sweat, his heart hammering against his chest as he tried to catch his breath.

He always woke up like that.

It felt like he couldn’t breathe, like he was suffocating, and no matter what he did or where he tried to go to get away, there was nothing he could do.

...And her voice only made it worse.

That thing, the pale woman, spoke to him, telling him that Mill Valley was an evil place. An evil place that he should get away from while he still had the chance.

It stuck with him, ringing in his head over and over as he tried to calm himself. It was just a dream, he knew that, but he couldn’t be sure how long it would stay that way.

If it came for him in real life, he wouldn’t know what to do.

“Chucky? Did it happen again?” you asked, your voice cutting through the still silence of the room like a hot blade, making him jump slightly in bed.

He knew you were there, of course, and he was glad for the company but it was always strange to have to acclimate to real life again after such a vivid nightmare.

“Yeah, I was in the red room” he spoke finally, turning to look at you, curled up with that pillow intended to be a barrier, your eyes focused on him in the dark.

You looked so at peace there, just relaxed into his checkered sheets, as if you belonged there and it did help to calm him a little. Focusing on you always did, though.

“It’s okay, lay back down” you suggested, hurling the aforementioned pillow-barrier away from you completely so that you could get closer to him.

“I’m right here with you Chuck, I’m not going anywhere” you hummed, curling up next to him once he’d done as you asked, your hand finding his own in the dark.

The touch was altogether a small gesture and not that meaningful by itself, but between the two of you, it was much more than that. To Chuck, it was everything.

“I love you”

You were both pretty tired, nearly back to sleep when he said it, those three words just setting in the air for a moment but you didn’t even hesitate to repeat them back to him.

“I love you too Chucky”

153 notes · View notes

dreamer213 · 3 years

Text

Broken Machines: Lights The Dark

Chapter 10 Saturday School Kids Can Be Cruel.

Friday night had been pretty fun when Penny finally got home. She had called Pietro earlier in the day to tell him not to make her too much for dinner because she had a big lunch. She managed to keep the petit fours a secret until she got home. When she did get home, she plopped the box down on the table while he had his back turned and shouted “SURPRISE” as he turned around. He was so surprised he almost dropped their dinner, but Penny took the tray off his hands before anything got ruined. That night they had baked potatoes with tiny cakes and tea for dessert. The following morning Penny woke up to a pre-made plate of bacon and eggs, some money, and a note.

“ Morning Penny, They had to call me in for some emergency maintenance on the mech’s cannon again. There’s gonna be a lot to be done so I won’t be back till tomorrow. Be safe while I’m gone; remember to eat and stay charged.”

“Love you Sunshine, Dad.”

Penny: He won’t be home till tomorrow. I’m going to be alone here until tomorrow.

Penny frowns unconsciously; she had rarely been away from her dad since she was stationed. His presence had been her only constant comfort since the tournament; she hadn’t gone a day without him and she had never thought about what would happen if she had to. It’s honestly quite scary to be alone with nothing be her thoughts. Whenever she was, everything felt so small, so quiet, so….. suffocating like a black void pooling around her.

Penny: No one will be here when I get back or when I go to sleep tonight. When it’s dark, it’ll just be, be-

Penny shakes her head, pushing out the worrying thoughts before they get worse.

Penny: Stop. You are fine, you are strong, you are not hopeless, and one night on your own will not hurt you. Just eat your breakfast and go to work.

Penny sits down at the table and quietly eats her now cold breakfast. Once she’s done, she washes her dishes, turns off all the lights, and heads off to her morning patrol. The patrol went well, no robberies or emergencies today, for some reason this didn't make Penny happy, even though it meant she would have less paperwork at the end of the day. Before long, it’s time to help at the training facility. Saturdays and Sundays were always the easiest days of the week at the facility as most academy students rested or went home on weekends, and most hunters took it easy on the weekends too, so besides makeup sessions and a few fitness hobbyists, no one came in. Which meant Penny was never requested on these days. Or so she thought. When she arrived, Penny is told that a team has requested her assistant for their session and was waiting for her in her usual room. This surprised her but Penny did as she was told and headed towards the training room. As she walked, she wondered who could have possibly asked for her on a Saturday afternoon. Could it be Winter? No, she liked to train by herself. Academy students? No, any student who came in on the weekend was to be monitored by a teacher. Could it..Ciel?...No there was no possible way she had asked for her. Penny kept pondering, but no matter how hard she thought, she couldn’t guess who could be waiting for her in that room. She’d just had to go in and see for herself. Once she finally reached the training room, the moment she enters the room, something tackles her! Penny wrests her attacker onto the floor and pins their hands behind their back. She’s about to question them when she feels something touch her back. She grabs it, gripping it tightly in her hands. She looks at it and sees it’s a long fluffy orange tail.

Penny: An orange cat tail? Neon Katt?

Penny looks down and realizes she’s holding down Neon!

Neon: Yeah, it’s me. And if not too much to ask, could you let go of my tail and GET OFF ME!

Penny: Right away. I’m so sorry!

Penny lets her go, and they both get off the floor. Before Penny can ask why Neon tackled her, Neon starts rolling towards the rest of her team. Penny tries to keep up and ask her what’s going on, but Neon wouldn't even look at her. When they finally reach the rest of the team, FNKI Neon hides behind Flynt. Penny gives up on Neon and decides to just wait to ask one of the others.

Penny: Good afternoon Team FNKI.

Flynt: Hey Penny, nice to see you.

Ivori: Afternoon to you too, Ms. Penny.

Kobalt: Sup Penny, hope you got affairs in order cause you’re about to see hell. (chuckles)

Ivori: Koco!

Ivori pops Kobalt in his side with the handle of his whip. Kobalt rubs his side in pain and annoyed.

Kobalt: Ow, the hell Ivy!

Ivori: Could you please not act like a jackass for one minute.

Kobalt: How was I being a jackass? We know what’s about to go down, I was just giving her a heads up!

Ivori: Still, would it kill you to show some tact for once. I mean Is it really so hard for you to-

Penny: Excuse me.

Both young men stop and return their attention to Penny.

Penny: What exactly is going on? I have no idea what is happening and what exactly I’ve done to get this kind of reaction. Could one of you please explain?

Flynt: Yeah, sorry about that. You see what happened was-

Suddenly, Neon pushes Flynt out of the way and gets in Penny’s face. She gets less than an inch away from Penny’s face, looking really upset.

Neon: You didn’t call.

Penny: Excuse me?

Neon continues to stare her down, arms crossed with a big frown on her face.

Neon: You didn’t call me! I gave you my number, asked you to call me, waited two weeks for you to call, but you never did. So rude!

Penny: I am sorry Neon, I have been very busy for the last few weeks and hadn’t thought about our conversation since then.

Neon: Wow, talk about thoughtless. Or am I just that forgettable to you?

Penny: No, I just had over things I needed to give my full attention to at the time. That and I didn’t have anything to talk about.

Neon: Uh, That’s so not true! What about that “secret mission” Ironwood has you working on?

Penny: I’m not supposed to talk about that.

Neon: Yeah, with civilians! You’re supposed to gossip about your crazy missions and stupid paperwork with coworkers, stupid. Sharing wild stories is like the best thing about being a soldier! And besides, this isn’t just an everyday mission; it's one the General himself had to come to your house and get you out of bed for. How could you not wanna talk about that?

Penny: How did you know about that?

Neon: Same way I shoulda heard from you. Now talk! I wanna hear everything!

Penny stares blankly at Neon as she piece together what she just heard. She looked over at the rest of Team FNKI; the three young men were standing awkwardly, embarrassed but unsurprised by Neon’s actions. Finally understanding what’s going on, Penny turns her attention back to Neon.

Penny: So if I’m hearing this correctly, you request this room and my presence with sole purpose of having a recreational conversation?

Neon: Yeah!

Penny: And you do realize that in doing so, you are misappropriating both military equipment and personnel?

With that, Neon’s pout drops, and so does her tail, Flynt facepalms and hangs his head, Ivori does everything he can to avoid making eye contact, and Kobalt’s looking around and whistling, trying his best to play it cool. Penny crosses her arms, unimpressed by their silly plan.

Penny: Team FNKI, please leave this area immediately so that others may use it properly.

Neon: What! Oh come on, no one even comes here on Saturday!

Penny: That is incorrect and irrelevant; this room is for training purposes only, not socializing. If you aren’t going to train then you have to leave. Those are the rules we must follow as soldiers.

Neon: OMG, Are you really doing this right now? Ugh why do you have to be such a narc-

Neon is quickly interrupted by Flynt getting in between the warring redheads.

Flynt: Okay, I’m sensing way too much hostility here, so why don’t we all just take as sec to calm down and come up with some kind of solution.

Neon about to start arguing again but Flynt turns to her and puts a hand on her cheek; he caresses her cheek with his thumb and lightly scratches her jawline with his other fingers. Soon Neon lets out a low purr as she full calms down from her hissy fit.

Flynt: Kitty, I know you just wanna talk, but we gotta follow the rule. So, how about this, you like skating, right?

A now calm Neon simply nods her head as she continues to receive scratches.

Flynt: Then how about you do a little speed test, you race around the room a few times while Penny tracks your speed and you two talk as you go. Me and the boys can stay here and do some stretches while you ladies race and chat. Sound good to you?

Neon: Yeah…Sounds…good.

Flynt: Good.

Still scratching away, Flynt turns his head to Penny.

Flynt: Sound okay to you, Penny?

Penny: Since the activities are forms of training, yes that would be acceptable.

Flynt: Great, thank ya Penny.

Flynt takes his hand off Neon’s cheek onto her shoulder and rolls her towards Penny as he returns to his spot next to Ivori and Kobalt. Penny and Neon walk to the edge of the room near the entrance; once there, the two stand close to the wall, and Neon takes a starting stance. Penny clicks her heels together and starts her rocket boots; they’re on a lower setting to match Neon’s gliding and sets an internal stopwatch. Penny gives a quick glance to the boys, and they were indeed doing stretches as promised, then looks back to Neon. They make eye contact, Noen mouths, “Ready?” and Penny holds up a hand and starts counting down. 5….4……3….2….1.

Both girls dash off at tremendous speeds. They remain neck and neck as they go around the room and soon Neon starts talking again.

Neon: So what’s going on with this secret mission?

Penny: I’m investigating a crime, and I need to go undercover to find the perpetrator.

Neon: Cool, so are they just dropping you in or what?

Penny: No, because of the lifestyle and living situation of the people on the suspect list, I have to receive some training on how to behave and act without seeming suspicious.

Neon: Oh, is it like stealth training?

Penny: Yes and no, I’m taking etiquette lessons so that I may infiltrate Atlas high society.

Neon: Woah, really? Damn that’s like straight out of a spy movie! So who they got teaching you to act all distinguished and junk? I don’t know we had an expert on that stuff just lying around here.

Penny: We don’t, an elite is instructing me as a form of repayment for saving his life at a party.

Neon: Uh ew, you’re getting lessons from some old fart elite. Gross.

Penny: No, he’s actually a teenage boy. And he’s not gross; he’s very clean and friendly.

Neon: A teenager! They seriously gotta another kid teaching you? Way to pay off a life debt.

Penny: It’s actually very nice; Our ages being so close makes our dynamic fairly even, he’s intelligent, easy to talk to, and very kind, and the way he teaches is unique and very fun.

Neon: Ooooh cool. Is he cute?

Penny: He’s…more beautiful than cute.

Neon: Oh yeah? How exactly?

Penny: Well, he’s has a model’s figure, lean, long legs, high shoulders, and excellent posture. You could take a picture of him at any angle, and he’d always look amazing. His face is also gorgeous, pink lips that look nice even in a smirk, high cheekbones, a cute little nose, and his eyes! I’ve never seen a pair so blue and shiny before; they look like a deep sea with the brilliance of a gemstone. And his hair is so soft and neat that it looks like silk and is white as fresh snow.

Penny begins to sway from left to right, hands behind her back and a sweet smile on her face. She’s slowing down and moving further and further away from the wall as they go. Neon slows to match her speed.

Neon: Wow, so he’s grade A in the looks department. What about his personality?

Penny: As I previously stated, he’s very intelligent. He’s also creative and well-spoken I could talk with him for hours if I had the time to. He’s a bit abrasive, not cruel by any means just very direct and confident, and charming and witty (giggle), which is a little funny because his first name starts with Whit. (giggles)

Neon: (giggles) Sounds like you really really like this guy.

Penny: I do. Being around him is just so….wonderful. Sometimes when I’m with him, it feels like it’s just the two of us; I have his full attention, and he has mine. It’s very..cozy and a bit

A slight blush glows on Penny’s cheeks. She turns around and starts flying backwards.

Penny: exhilarating. So much so that sometimes I feel a little dizzy and get this thumping feeling in my chest when he looks at me for too long or says something really nice to me. It’s really-

Penny is intercepted by her accidentally backing into the wall of one of the obstacles. Luckily for her, her aura was active, and she had slowed down so much that the impact was damaging in the slightest. Still hurt a bit though.

Neon: Ooooooh shit.

Neon rushes over to Penny, having been in earshot of the collision come running to see if everything’s okay.

Flynt: I heard a bang. Who got hurt?

Kobalt: 5000 lien says Neon got bored and pushed her off a platform.

Ivori: Koco I swear to every God if you don’t stop I hit you right in the-

Neon: Will you two mouthy douche cakes shut up and actually help!

The two stop their bickering and go to Penny. They try to help her up, but Penny puts her hands up as they try, and they back up to give her some space. Penny turns off her boots, takes a second to regain her balance, and steadies herself fully on the floor. The team begin conversing about what’s just happened.

Ivori: Are you okay, dear? Do you need us to get someone?

Penny: No, thank you, I’m fine. My aura was activated, and it was a slow speed collision, so there was no damage aside from the initial shock of the impact.

Flynt: But why’d you crash?

Penny: I-

Neon: Oh, it was nothing really. Penny just go all wispy talking about this dreamy boy she met.

Penny: W-what? What are you-

Kobalt: Oooh, so that what you two were talking about. A boy.

Neon: Yup, she was so caught up in her gushing that she slammed herself into that wall. (laughs) Can’t say I blame her though, all cute girls go a little brain dead when they think about their crush. I know I did.

Kobalt: And since when did you count as a cute girl?

Neon playful elbows Kobalt in the side, and Kobalt returns the favor while Penny looks on, confused by their words.

Penny: Excuse me, but do you mean by a crush?

Neon: Oh, you know.

Penny: No, I do not know.

Neon: You know it’s when you really like someone.

Penny tilts her head to the side, confused.

Penny: But I like a lot of people.

Neon: Yeah, but a crush is when you really like someone. Like you like like them.

Penny: Like like?

Kobalt: You know, they make you feel all floaty, makes your head all foggy, and gives you butterflies in your tummy.

Penny: How would someone get insects in my stomach?

Neon and Kobalt sigh in unison, frustrated with her lack of knowledge. Meanwhile, Ivori walks up to Penny, dusts off her sleeves, and takes both her hands in his, taking over the situation.

Ivori: Sorry about those two. They have don’t know how to take anything seriously. Now the gist of what they were trying to say is that a crush is when you have some romantic feelings for someone.

Penny: Romantic..feelings?

Ivori: Yes, when you’re with this person, it’s very special. They’re beautiful to you; they make you feel warm and safe and happy. You want to hold them, laugh with them, kiss them, and just be romantic with them.

Penny: But I’ve never wanted to ki-

For a second, the unconscious thought of kissing Whitley plays through Penny’s mind. Suddenly the thumping in her chest returned, and her face started to redden. Penny tries to make the thought go away, but Ivori’s words keep replaying in her head, and memories of Whitley pour in with it. Her face gets redder and redder until she’s at the max amount of flushed her body can be. She tries to speak her mind still jumbled.

Penny: I-I d-don’t have r-romantic fe-feelings for hi-(hiccup)

Penny quickly rips her hands from Ivori and covers her mouth, astonished that she had somehow just said a lie.

Kobalt: The hell was that!

Penny: N-nothing (hiccup)

Neon: Wait a sec, I’ve heard about this. She hiccups when she lies. You lied, you’re totally crushing on this guy, aren’t you?

Penny: No I’m not-(hiccup)

Kobalt: Holy shit, that’s fucking adorable! Do it again! Do it again!

Neon: Penny’s got a crush, Penny’s got a crush.~

Neon chants in a sing-song voice, Kobalt chuckling at her side.

Penny: No, I don't-(hiccup) Stop it!

Neon continues to chant and Kobalt joins in, Penny just covers her face, silently praying for the ground to swallow her up and away from this as they continue heckling her. After a while Ivori decides that enough was enough and gets in the two jokesters faces.

Ivori: Both of you stop that right now! Can’t you see that hurting the poor girl’s feelings!

Neon: Ugh, Lighten up we’re were just kidding around.

Kobalt: Yeah, you’re supposed to tease people when they get a crush. We did the same thing to you.

Ivori: That was different, you don’t make fun of a little girl. Especially one like Penny.

Neon: Oh, come on, if she’s gonna be a soldier, she has to be able to handle some hazing.

Ivori: But you still shouldn’t be prying into her personal life like this.

Flynt: All three of you shouldn’t have been prying at all.

Flynt final chimes in, having stayed silent for far too long.

Flynt: Koco, Kitty cut it out right now; it's not funny. Ivy, you should’ve stayed out of it; you played right into their game and lost. Take your L and walk away.

The three listen and stop arguing, and Flynt turns to Penny. He takes off his shades, gives her a reassuring smile, and pats her shoulder.

Flynt: Penny, I understand you’re vulnerable and awkward right now, that’s normal. If you wanna talk about this, we’ll gladly listen but if not that’s okay too. We won’t push you, and I’m sorry if we made you uncomfortable today.

Penny: Thank you Flynt Coal, your apology is accepted.

Flynt: Okay, now if there’s anything you need feel free to-

???: Excuse me.

Everyone stops in their tracks as a familiar voice rings out into the room. They look towards the door to see Winter walking towards them, stern-faced as always.

Winter: Apologies if I’m interrupting your conversation Team FNKI, but your time is almost up, and I need to have a talk with Penny. And since it seems like you have already finished up, I’d like you all to leave.

Flynt: Yes Ma’am, let's go people, time to bounce.

Flynt gives Penny a wave and heads towards the door, followed by Ivori, who gives her a sweet smile, followed by Kobalt, who ruffled her hair, and lastly Neon, who gave her a peace sign as she rolls past. Once they’ve left the room, Winter and Penny are left to converse.

Winter: Penny Polendina.

Penny: Yes, Winter Schnee.

Winter: I understand you have had a change in schedule.

Penny: Yes, I have.

Winter: When you return to your usual schedule, I’d like you to join me on my errand.

Penny: You mean the-

Winter: She’s asked for you, said that your presence was calming. I’ve already spoken to Ironwood, and he’s approved the change. As soon as your investigation is over, you’ll be accompanying me for this task twice a week. Understood.

Penny: Affirmative.

Winter: Excellent, now run along the carrier for the evening shift is leaving soon.

Penny: Yes Ma’am, have a good day.

Penny exists the room, leaving Winter alone to train, soon she’s back in Mantle and headed to the station to fill out her daily reports. It doesn’t take long as it has been a very uneventful day so she finishes in around two hours. From there she walks home, unlocking the door and stepping into the living room, turn on the lights as she enters.

Penny: I’m home-

Penny begins her usual greeting before remembering that she’s alone. Her smile drops and she heads to her room, taking off her boots along the way. She sets her backpack and boots down the flops onto her bed, she looks up at the ceiling, wonders what she should do until it’s time for her to sleep. She pulls out her scroll, hoping to find some entertainment, and notices a text from Neon reading “If you wanna any advice on how to get a date with Atlas boy, text me 😸🌈😉.” She goes red at the memory of teasing she received early and responds with a simple “No thank you.” She decides to go on her Individeo, a video, and streaming platform, app to watch some videos. She pulls up a video on making your own custom guns, she had seen the tile and saved it for another time days ago. As she watches she remembers that she saved this specific video to show her dad because she thought some of the ideas for the weapons could be used to improve some of their own guns. This realization weights on her as all the ideas and facts she wanted to discuss with her dad float around with nowhere to go. Speaking of her dad he wanted her to eat whiles he’s gone.

Now Penny could survive solely off of electricity but thanks to her biofuel converter and new nervous system she could enjoy food and turn it into fuel, making her more eco-friendly. She closes the video app and searches her memory bank for phone numbers for local restaurants that delivered. She forms a long list of options but as she has limited funds and would hate to inconvenience anyone Penny starts disqualifying the higher prices and further away eateries. Soon she narrows it down to a list of three options, a pizza place, a burger place, Ms. Ling’s. From there she evaluates them base on quality, quantity, and service rates. In the end logic and curiosity wins out as Penny picks out the one she never had before, pizza. She calls in for one medium-sized cheese pizza, just to test out the taste, and is told it will take 45 minutes to deliver. She takes this time to wash up and change into her pajamas. When the food does arrive she goes downstairs, pays, and takes her pizza. She sits the box on the table, opens it, and takes out a slice. Penny takes a bite and it’s greasy in a good way, the cheese is nice and stretchy, the tomatoes sauce compliments the cheese, and the crust has a pleasant crunch. But it just doesn’t feel tasty, it tastes good but for some reason, it just doesn't feel the way to supposed to. Penny eats two more slices then puts the rest away in the refrigerator. She goes back upstairs, brushes her teeth, plugs up, and heads to bed early.

She closes her eyes hoping to see her dad’s smiling face when she wakes again.

#penny polendina #pietro polendina #flynt coal #neon katt #Ivori #Kobalt #winter schnee #rwby fanfiction #rwby #fanfic #cute #god help this sweet bean #broken machines #beta tester

9 notes · View notes

kaypeace21 · 3 years

Note

i’m a survivor too, and i found that certain scenes/stuff will said just really struck me as ‘csa-survivor’-like? i felt a bit uncomfortable about headcanoning it happening to someone else, especially for a fandom as wild as this one, but your metas have really been a comfort to me because they’ve been able to pick out and explain things that i couldn’t necessarily find the words for myself.

and yeah, i would love to have a character like me that is powerful and who finds love and who gets a happy ending. the people who call the theory disgusting always kinda hit wrong with me because although csa is a difficult subject, we shouldn’t be ashamed about sharing it. they sound like they’re trying to say that it’s a bad topic to talk about and implying that it can’t happen to kids, which uhhhhh-

(i’m sure that’s not what they mean, precisely, but it’s still what they sound like, and i wish that they would stop implying that we can’t exist, especially in popular media. we do, and i’m not gonna pretend we don’t, and if they feel uncomfortable with the topic they can just use the block button. we deserve to have some well written representation just as much as anyone else. also, i really really hope that will gets a happy ending.)

anywayyyy i love your theories and i can see your post in the tag so i think you’re fine?? have a good day ❤️❤️❤️

SORRY, this ask took so long to respond to. It always warms my heart to hear other survivors speak and say they found comfort in my theory.

Yes, I think I and a lot of c*a/r*pe victims (subconscious or otherwise) were triggered by some of the symbolism/visuals in s1-3. And s3 made it hard for most of us to ignore the past imagery- since s3 wasn’t as subtle.

I get why people have reservations about the theory. But the debates to the contrary are usually just plain offensive. Or people trying to be respectful but being the opposite. There’s the obvious bad-apples . I got many anons after part 1 of my DID theory saying it “ruined/tainted byler”, and “if that happened to Will i’ll stop shipping byler” , or that it “ruins the best gay character” , and to “remove the post immediately”. And this was when I was open about being a gay c*a victim. I obviously blocked them. Many survivors don’t come forward because they’re afraid people will see them as “tainted”, “ruined”, “ just their trauma”, or blame them for what happened. So yeah, it pisses me off when people say similar stuff about Will (and thus other c*a victims). Not even diving into the messed up psychology about byler/mileven shippers (knowing i was a lesbian c*a victim) but purposely spreading bs rumors about me being a p*do that was into Will/Noah-all because of the theory. -_-

Then there’s the people who try to be “respectful” but literally do the opposite.

I’ve heard numerous times it’s somehow “less offensive” to just use r*pe imagery to make monsters scary. Rather than have the monsters have that imagery cause Will created the monsters from his memory/imagination-and st is a story of Will healing from that trauma. SORRY- I disagree. Using the worst experiences of peoples’ lives (and triggering their trauma) for no real purpose- except to make their monsters scarier to the normal/general audience who haven’t gone through it so won’t be triggered like us - is MORE OFFENSIVE to victims! NOT LESS! At least to me.

Then there’s the people who say “c*a should never be talked about (in stories).” Which I disagree with. V*ctims have already been told by ab*ser’s and enablers of the ab*ser- to never talk about what happened to us . So it rubs A LOT of us the wrong way when people say this. Because (subconscious or not) you remind some of us of the people who used to hurt/silence us. People say this -simply for their convenience (like ab*sers) and cause deep down they’re uncomfortable with our existence and equate the despicable act to us the innocent v*ctim ...or just want to deny the horrible reality of the situation (like many enablers who deny the truth and hurt us because they don’t want to accept reality) . And 1) It brings us back to a time where they told us to NEVER talk about it- and makes us feel like we did something wrong when we didn’t! 2) Every psych professional says with-holding/keeping the ab*se a secret is detrimental to our mental health.

Plus, there’s a HUGE difference between sugarcoating/minimizing trauma or WORSE glamorizing, condoning, or romanticizing C*A in stories (ex: pretty little liars) VS showing how the action is wrong, causes trauma, but showing recovery and happiness is still possible for v*ctims. if the story shows how accurately traumatizing it is (instead of minimizing/glamorizing it)- it’s incredibly rare for that character to get a happy ending. Having a story about recovering from that type of trauma and finding happiness despite such hardships would be amazing for US survivors! We rarely get stories with a happy ending- it’s more harmful to us survivors to never see ourselves get happy endings in tv/film/books. How can some survivors (in a dark place) think there’s a light at the end of the tunnel- if it’s never shown?Also if Will has DID too- it’s good mental health rep, along with queer rep (and survivor’s rep.) All 3 groups rarely are treated well or get happy endings in media. A lot of people may feel more heard, seen, and a bit more hopeful for the future - If Will (and other characters) get a happy ending.

And even though st has many themes- like say homophobia. To try and hand-wave all the disturbing r*pe imagery away as ‘Will is just gay so the monsters are like that”. IS SOOOOOO offensive. Trigger warning for examples. I’m sorry what part of Max saying when Billy had c*nsensual s*x it’s “good screams” but when possessed by the mf he causes Heather to do “bad screams” read as gay???! Having the possessed ch*ke/dr*g people before throwing them in trunks (like it’s implied Lonnie did to Will -since Jonathan checked Lonnie’s trunk for Will in s1)?Tying their arms and legs up/ g*ging them and getting on top of them and saying “stay VERY still it’ll all be over soon”-before a monster shoves it’s tentacle into someone’s mouth and inserts a goo - just gay??? Similar to the sentient vine/shadow monster forcing itself down Will’s throat. Let alone Will saying things like “he made me do it”, “i felt it everywhere”, or being tied to a bed and screaming “help! stop! it hurts! let me go!” While Jonathan is the only one who’s visibly triggered by this and has to literally turn away and hug someone . Or barb, billy, and El spiting up a white liquid from their mouth (similar to will spitting up a slug and lying to his mother about it ).El/billy touching a suspicious looking slime with their hand and looking at the substance confused . El drawing Papa with 3 legs (the middle one being shorter) , trying to undress in front of the boys , and Benny saying “I think she’s been ab*sed or something”.The theme of ab*sive dads- brenner , Lonnie, and Neil . Even when the demogorgan (called in d&d the “deep father”/ in the show “a man without a face”) attacked Barb it’s chopped up with scenes of Nancy having c*nsensual sex (the monsters are doing the opposite symbolically). There’s way more examples but NO- to try and hand wave /equate ALL OF THIS to just “gay imagery” or an “a*ds metaphor” is WAY more problematic. And just offensive (specifically to gay people) than just admitting what it may actually represent. R*pe imagery and gay imagery is NOT THE SAME THING!

Also ST has never been a kid show- maybe rewatch the show and see the rating of tv-14 . Goodness sake- s1 has a st*ged su*icde, k*dnappings, m*rder, discussions of physics, h*mophobia, and s*x (with stancy in s1 & jancy in s2-s3). S2/3 discuss at their finalies recovering from tra*ma . S2 had gra*ic de*ths, a man causing a women br*in damage/ and faking her m*scarriage, and a gang of vigalantes k*lling criminals. s3 had critiques on capitalism /media/s*xism, many d*eaths, and questionable imagery like the prior seasons. The Duffers constantly reference movies & events from the 80s (capitalizing on 80s nostalgia /subverting 80s motifs that middle age people from that time remember)! Those people were their intended age demographic . Most 80s centric refs go over most kids’ heads (heck a lot went over my head too since I wasn’t alive in the 80s XD).The Duffers even said in the book “worlds turned upsidedown” “it’s not a kid’s show despite having kids”. And maybe it’s a coincidence but when Lucas in s3 hands Will the “devil’s baby” firework (a hint about Lonnie) he says “18 and over only.” Which idk is a weird/random af line unless it’s foreshadowing that the show will get darker about various themes- and maybe even change ratings.

I get people wishing nothing bad ever happened to Will or Jonathan. And being apprehensive and not trusting the Duffers to do such a story justice (cause it’s difficult to do). But personally i trust them to do so tastefully with tact and not be exp*itative, (overly gr*fic) or offensive to v*ctims. You can disagree and think the show is about something else (or not trust the Duffers)- but it’d be great if people could stop using these other messed up talking points. While trying to appear ‘(fake) woke’ and like they care for victims- cause we see through it that you really don’t.

Have a lovely day anon ❤️ ❤️ ❤️

Update- I just really agreed with and appreciate the tags in this reblog

#tw: csa #tw:r*pe

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wonder-womans-ex · 3 years

Text

Curtain Call

Act One, Scene Eight

“I’m home!” Sirius calls, unlocking the door.

It takes a few seconds, but then, “In here!” comes James’s voice from the living room.

(‘Living room’ is probably a bit of a stretch, really, because ‘living room’ implies that there are also other rooms, and the fact of the matter is that they have two bedrooms and then a kitchen with a couch and a TV in one half and a table in the other.) (James is, evidently, in the designated couch half of the kitchen.) (Sirius had originally suggested calling it the ‘lounge,’ and it is a sad sign of how determined James is to grow up at least partially that this suggestion did not become a reality.)

Bending down to unlace his combat boots, he shrugs his backpack off and leaves it there on top of James’s checkered Vans and a pair of black sneakers he doesn’t recognize but probably belongs to him.

He walks past the fridge, glances at the schedule held up by the J and S magnets they got from Peter when they moved into the apartment, and makes a mental note that he has his first rehearsal for Oliver tonight.

“What’cha watching?” he begins, noticing the flicker of the TV screen, and then stops dead.

There are a few moments of silence before Sirius grabs one of Elvendork’s catnip mice off the floor and chucks it at his younger brother. “You fucker!”

Regulus sits up from where his head had previously been resting on James’s lap. “Hello to you, too, Sirius.”

“You came to visit! And you didn’t tell me!”

“In my defense, I didn’t even know I was coming until, like, ten this morning. It was a spur-of-the-moment decision.”

“Hey, they didn’t tell me, either. Just showed up at the door an hour or two ago, knocking like their life depended on it. I thought it was the police coming to tell me you’d been arrested. Or found dead in a ditch.”

“Shut up, James,” Sirius says, rolling his eyes. “Of course they didn’t tell you—I’m his brother.”

“Well, I’m the love of his life.”

Regulus buries their face in James’s shoulder. “Why did I tell you that?” he groans, and Sirius glances between the two of them, blinking.

“Wait. Are you two—”

“No,” they say in unison, which clears up absolutely nothing.

“...I think I’m missing something.”

“You’re definitely missing something.”

(Yes, but what?)

He watches nervously as a significant look passes between them. It’s a conversation, really, but instead of words everything is communicated with eyebrow raises (mostly Regulus) and exaggerated winks (all James).

Finally, Regulus lets out a huff of breath. “All right,” they say. “Fine!”

James protests when Regulus climbs off the couch—not at the climbing off the couch part, but because he takes the blanket with him. The two stick their tongues out at each other, and Sirius feels his heart swell. He loves them both so fucking much, and he’s never been so glad that Reg managed to get out of that house, too. He’s not sure what he’d do without his little brother.

The walk in silence towards Sirius’s bedroom, and Regulus immediately jumps onto the bed once the door is opened. They bounce slightly when their body hits the springy mattress, and they flop over onto their back to stare at the ceiling.

“I came out to James,” he says, not bothering with pleasantries or preamble. Regulus never has been one for that—straight and to the point is the only way they really know how to do anything.

“You dated James.” Tact, Sirius, he reprimands himself immediately inside his head. Just because your brother is a conversation heathen you don’t necessarily have to stoop to their levels.

“Yes, I know I dated James. But… I’m not gay.”

“Okay.” Sirius pauses, waiting to see if Regulus is going to elaborate further. They don’t, so he prompts, “Do you know what you are?”

“Yeah.”

(So they’re doing this the hard way, are they? All right—Sirius can work with that.)

“I’m not gay,” Regulus says again. “I’m not pan or bi or any of those things. I’m… I’m asexual. And aromantic.”

Sirius blinks. He takes this in. He nods.

He says something that, in fifteen years, he will look back on and want to dunk his head in very cold water for. “But… James.”

“James.” Regulus nods, sighing heavily. “James is different. I don’t know how to explain it—I don’t love him anymore. But… I did. I used to. And I haven’t felt like that about anyone else, well, ever. Yeah.”

Before Sirius can say anything, Regulus starts talking again. “It’s like—what was it you used to say? In high school? ‘Having a crush on James Potter doesn’t make you gay. It makes you human.’ I loved James, but that doesn’t make me allo. Make sense?”

“Yeah. Wait, actually, one thing—so, James is the only person you’re ever loved? Romantically?”

“Uh huh.”

“And you told him this?”

Regulus brings his hands up, covering his face. “I know. It was a mistake, okay? I should have known it would only inflate his ego even more. I feel like an idiot.”

“Yeah, because you are an idiot.” Sirius reaches over, swatting them on the shoulder. “But at least you’re not as big of an idiot as the guy who knowingly and willingly flirted with his ex today.”

“What?!”

“Mm hmm. But that’s a story for another time.” Smirking, Sirius glances over his shoulder before beginning to walk backwards out of the room.

“You fucker!”

Reg chases him all the (admittedly very short) way back to where James is sprawled on the couch, clearly making good use of his friends’ absence. Finally, Sirius can see what’s playing on the TV—it’s Ocean’s Eleven, and it’s already at least a good half hour in. He and Regulus look at each other, identical smirks etched onto their faces. Together, they jump, and James yelps.

“Oh, don’t be such a baby,” Regulus tells him jokingly, and there comes a muffled groan from where James’s face is smashed into the pillows.

Sirius makes sure that James can actually breathe before he starts to make himself comfortable. He’s perched on the small of James’s back; Regulus is settled in the gap between James’s feet.

“Is this really,” James laments, “how you want to treat your best friend?”

“Yes,” Sirius says, and smothers a laugh.

“And you, Reggie—have you no respect for the love of your life?”

Regulus pretends to think for a moment, then, “No,” they say.

The muscles in James’s back tense suddenly, but Sirius doesn’t think much of it. He should, really, because barely an instant later, James heaves himself over, tipping both Black brothers onto the floor.

“Ouch,” Sirius says, pouting. “My ass hurts.”

Regulus has an unbelievably shit-eating grin on their face. “Loser.”

“I thought you were on my side!”

“I’m on no one’s side but my own.”

This is a mistake, and Regulus knows it. His eyes widen when James and Sirius look at each other, nodding, and lunge forward. There is only one weakness to Regulus Arcturus Black, and the two of them know it better than anyone else in the world.

Because Regulus may be coolly confident with a sharp sense of humour, but they are also extremely ticklish. Their shrieks and laughs are interrupted by the occasional ‘No!’ or ‘Mercy!,’ but it does nothing to quench Sirius and James’s combined ruthlessness. They are unstoppable, and Regulus can do nothing to beat them.

George Clooney is shouting about something onscreen, but the three young men tussling pay him no mind. The movie plays on, forgotten, and Sirius lets himself forget—just for a moment—that Remus or heartbreak or that fucking writing class exist at all.

***

“So,” James says through a mouthful of chow mein, “How was the class?”

“It was good.”

Regulus raises an eyebrow. “‘Good?’ You sound like a kid coming home from school to overly inquisitive parents.”

“Yeah, ‘cause you’d know all about that.”

“Fuck off, they didn’t talk to you, either.”’

“Touché.”

“Go on, Sirius,” James breaks in. “How was it?”

“It was better than last week, at least. Worse, too, I guess, but then it was better.”

“...Elaborate.”

He’s glad for the excuse to. He needs to talk to someone, and therapy’s an obvious no because he doesn’t have the money and also he has a bad track record of scaring therapists away on the first session, so James and Regulus are kind of the only options. (He’s not kidding anyone. He’s been dying to tell the two of them, specifically, for like forever, but Regulus hasn’t visited in ages.) “Well, I found out why Remus broke up with me. And then I met up with his friends at Frankie’s, and apparently they’re my friends now, too, which is cool, because at the moment my only friends are, well, you guys. Oh, and I helped set Marlene up with a girl.”

There is a pause as both Regulus and James look at him, taking in this information. “Okay,” James says. “Do I want you to tell me more?”

Sirius pokes at his rice with one chopstick. “I dunno.”

“I—um—you mentioned you made some new friends?” continues James. Regulus stifles a laugh, and Sirius has to admit that the phrase ‘make some new friends’ sounds more fitting for a conversation with a grade three than a university student. “What are they like?”

“Well, there’s Dorcas—the one who’s into Marlene—and she’s, like, the most extroverted extrovert to ever extrovert. Then there’s Frank, who doesn’t talk much, and Mary, who talks even less, but Mary’s got dyed hair so she’s all right, I guess. Alice is pretty cool, too, and then there’s Lily, who’s pretty but terrifying. Oh, and Fabian, who seems to be allergic to not being a nice person, and Caradoc, who I’m almost positive is related to Angelia Jolie because his cheekbones are just that sharp. And Remus, of course, but I’m sure I’ve told you guys enough about him to last a lifetime.”

When he’s met by only silence, he scrambles for something to say. “They all strike me as the kind of people who would wear ‘gay rights’ t-shirts unironically, which is sort of my only prerequisite when it comes to friendship. Our resident emo not included, of course, because I would never want to force them into anything that isn’t some sort of My Chemical Romance merchandise.”

Regulus looks down at the shirt he’s currently wearing—it’s got the American Beauty/American Psycho album cover on the front—and then back up at Sirius. “Actually, this is Fall Out Boy.”

“Same difference.”

“How dare you.”

Laughing, James spears another piece of broccoli and gestures with it between the two of them. “Reg, you can’t exactly blame him for his ignorance around your obsolete music tastes.”

“Says the guy who listens to the fucking Monkees—”

“Fuck off! The Monkees were an icon; a legend—”

“The Monkees are trash.”

“You’re trash!”

“Whoa, there,” Sirius breaks in. “I dodged a bullet when my only two friends in the world had a friendly breakup instead of an unfriendly one, and the last thing I want is to find out that that bullet is actually a boomerang.”

Regulus groans. “Okay, first of all, we’ve always spent like fifty percent of our time arguing about music, even while we were dating—which you’d know if you hadn’t started avoiding the two of us like the plague the instant we got together.”

“Shots fired,” James says under his breath, but he’s immediately silenced by a glare from Regulus.

“Secondly—and more importantly—if you ever make another analogy remotely like that one, I will hurt you. Are we clear?”

“Crystal,” Sirius assures them, but he’s struggling to hold back laughter.

There’s a pause, and then Regulus crosses his arms, pouting. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re laughing.”

“Because you’re funny.”

“I’m not funny!”

“You’re cute.”

“I am not cute!”

“Yes, you are!”

Regulus turns on James once more. “James, am I cute?” Clearly, they think better of this, because they quickly add, “Wait, no, don’t answer that.”

“See, you’re cute! And you know it!”

“I give up!”

Sirius sits back in his chair. “You’ve lost, Reg. Admit it. And then get me a fortune cookie.”

“All right. Fine. I’ve lost. But I hope your fortune cookie tells you you’re going to get struck by lightning tomorrow.”

“Sweet; maybe I’ll get cool powers.”

“It doesn’t work like that, moron.”

“Whatever you say.”

For a moment, he thinks he’ll have to get the fortune cookies himself, because Reg isn’t going to, but then his little brother stands up and reaches into the brown paper bag on the counter. “Here,” they say, tossing the cookie at Sirius’s head.

“Hey!”

James gets a cookie, too, but his is placed on the table in front of him, not at all a threat to his health, well-being, and quite possibly his life. Sirius points this out, labeling it ‘favouritism,’ but Regulus only takes a bite of his cookie and calls him dramatic.

“You first,” James says, nodding at Regulus, causing Sirius to gasp in betrayal. The other two pay him no mind, however, and Regulus clears his throat.

“You will,” they say, “come into fair fortune or good will in the near future.”

Almost immediately, James starts clapping. It’s tradition—after a fortune cookie reading comes the raucous applause. For them, it’s half the fun of ordering Chinese food.

“All right, my turn.” James squints at the slip of paper in his hands. He holds it up to the light, and then, “Something will happen soon that will change how you look at the world.”

This time, Sirius and Regulus know to wait before they applaud. James always adds something funny after his fortunes, and they’re curious to see what it is he’ll come up with this time.

“What,” he says, after a brief moment of thought, “will my glasses prescription change or something?”

Sirius looks at Regulus, and they both laugh as they clap. It’s cheesy, entirely too predictable, and basically the most James thing possible. Neither of them knows what really caused them to want to befriend James all those years ago in—oh fuck, it was grade four, wasn’t it?—but it sure as hell wasn’t his sense of humour.

“Sirius?” It’s said like a question, and Sirius is quick to answer. “On it, Reg,” he says, and breaks his cookie in half with both hands. (Well, he says ‘half;’ it’s really more like a quarter and then the other three.)

He reads out his lucky numbers first, without even looking at the fortune itself—that’s his tradition; he’s the only one of the three of them who does it. “Three, thirteen, seventeen, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, forty.”

“Isn’t that, like, the fifth time in a row you’ve gotten thirteen?” Regulus says. “That’s gotta mean something.”

“Shut up,” Sirius tells them, and finally he lets his eyes find the tiny lettering that is his fortune.

Without letting himself hear the words in his head first, he reads them out loud. “You have forgiven easily in the past; it is time to do so again.”

There’s a silence. What is this? It’s not a fortune; it’s a statement. Advice, maybe, but even that’s stretching it a little.

“Well.” James says, and claps, Regulus following quickly after, but Sirius can tell it’s strained. They’re all obviously thinking about the same thing—Remus.

Somewhere in his head, he knows that this doesn’t necessarily mean anything. It’s a fortune cookie, after all—what does it know? But… maybe it does mean something. He’s not sure which he’s hoping for.

Seemingly just for something to say, James asks, “Don’t you have rehearsal tonight?”

Sirius is, in a way, glad for the excuse to stand up. “Yeah,” he says, “at seven-thirty—which is twenty minutes from now—so I should probably get going.”

“Probably,” agrees Regulus, as they begin to clear the table. “Need a ride?”

“Nah, I can take the bus,” Sirius begins, and then stops. “Wait, why are you offering? You don’t have a car.”

“Um—”

“Reg, is there something you aren’t telling me?”

“...Maybe?”

“You have a car?”

“I mean, technically it’s a rental, so no, but—”

“Whatever.” Sirius doesn’t need to hear any more. “Yes, please, take me to rehearsal.”

James makes a noise of protest. “What, and leave me here alone?”

“Yes, James; you can survive on your own. You’re an adult.”

“I don’t feel like one.”

“Or act like one,” Sirius adds under his breath, which earns him a definitive not helping look from Regulus.

“You’ll be fine as long as you don’t burn the house down. Goodbye.”

Sirius grabs his script and his blue hoodie with the picture of a rubber duck on it from his bedroom, and when he walks back through the kitchen to the front door, Regulus looks him up and down once and hands him his backpack.

The only sound that accompanies their walk down the hall and subsequent elevator ride is the faint jingling of the key ring in Regulus’s hand. It’s not until they’re in the car and pulling out of the parking lot that Regulus says, “And you’re all right with this?”

“All right with what?”

“Me being… you know.”

“A total asshole? No. Aroace? Yeah, of course. I’m your brother. I’m here for you, Reg.”

“Thanks, I guess.”

(Sirius ignores the ‘I guess.’) “Is James cool about it? Because if he isn’t, I’ll kick his ass.”

“No, he’s fine. He’s great. He made a couple jokes about himself having raised my expectations so much I could never be with anyone else, but that’s just James.”

“That’s just James,” Sirius repeats. “And you know that you can always talk to me, right? If anyone tries to mess with your head?”

“Yeah. Now, enough about me. Let’s talk about the guy who ‘knowingly and willingly flirted with his ex’ earlier.”

Damn. He’s hoped Regulus had forgotten about that.

For a moment, Sirius is trapped between the want to stubbornly refuse and the need to actually talk about his feelings. He settles on the latter, but not until they’re close enough to the rec centre where rehearsals are held that he knows he can hop out of the car and walk the rest of the way if need be. “He’s just… he’s everything, you know?

“And I know that he doesn’t want to get back together, and I know that we really shouldn’t even if he did. But he’s Remus. And I’m constantly flip-flopping back and forth between wanting to be his friend because we’ll never be anything more than that, and…”

“And what?”

“Being so in love with him it hurts.”

Regulus glances away from the road ahead for a split second, eyes flickering over Sirius's face, their expression unreadable. “Sounds like a you problem,” they say finally.

“Reg?”

“Yeah?”

“Not helping.”

“Sorry.”

“I just—my eyes basically turn to hearts whenever I look at him, but it also hurts, you know? Because he broke up with me, obviously, but also because today I found out that the reason he broke up with me was that he kissed someone else, so obviously that’s kind of shitty, and I don’t know how to feel about any of this because he’s basically the nicest person in the world, and can one mistake really change who a person is? But he also hasn’t tried to make up or anything, and we’re apparently pretending we’ve never met, and did I mention he’s got a fucking tattoo of the Sirius constellation that he never told me about, and… this is my stop.”

Regulus pulls over, wincing a little as the tire grates against the curb, and then turns to meet Sirius’s gaze. “So, it sounds like you’re not in a great place right now,” he says. “And I get that. You know this goes both ways, right? You can always talk to me, too.”

“I know. Love you.” He grabs his backpack, making sure it’s got everything he needs in it—phone, script, highlighter and pencil for notes and directions, bottle of red Gatorade—and closes the door.

The window rolls down slightly, and Sirius watches his own reflection disappear with it and be replaced by his brother’s faint smile. “Love you, too,” Regulus says, and then he is gone.

#wolfstar #sirius black #remus lupin #sirius x remus #james potter #regulus black #cw food #james and sirius are bros #he/they regulus black #regulus black is an emo I don't make the rules #university au #muggle au #post-breakup #actor!sirius #I don't know how I feel about this chapter

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antidotenurse · 3 years

Note

If you had the chance to rewrite zexal what would you change abt it and what you you put more focus on?

😳 Okay well… Let’s see. I’m no writer. And admittedly, I’m not as versed in episode citing as much as other people I know. I’m just that person who, after watching something else, will come back to zexal and look at it wondering: “Why is literally nothing happening ever?” So bear in mind my lack of tact and proper vocabulary.

I’d probably keep it more or less the same… but with a couple shifts here and there. More indulgent stuff on my end is having the Numbers Club y’know, actually DO things. And it’d be nice to have Astral and Yuma have a slight falling out and work build up trust again post-sargasso before he dies.

Most of what my brain jumps to when it comes to “stuff in zexal i’d wanna full on rewrite” revolves almost primarily around Rio and Nasch stuff since I don’t really like it’s execution in the first place. …And Tori. But Tori might likely have to be a separate discussion altogether. So, I guess I’m trying to make a more semi-realistic scenario within certain boundaries? Ex. No adding other episodes, and if something is taken away something new must be added in. And aside from one duel, duels will remain the same.

FIRST AND FOREMOST: Rio is not killed off for a second time once she wakes up. Her being in a coma fundamentally doesn’t change her role at all as a person giving out “premonitions” whatsoever. It’s actually kind of insane. I’m not gonna go through everything just major moments. A lot and also very little goes on within episodes, I’ll just rely folk can fill in the blanks.

So for some mindfulness, from Abyss onwards, Rio is here.

SHARK VS. ABYSS and then some follow up:

Originally, this set of episodes involved Rio being possessed, and Shark fights Abyss and from there we learn about the Nasch and Merag stuff. Mostly the latter but for some reason focus is on Shark. Rio is then promptly put into a coma again and Shark wangst happens from here on out until the face-heel turn during the Astral World arc.

I’d probably make it start with… Idk. I feel like the original beginning of the episode works fine since it begins with visions being had by Rio. Blah blah, she’s confused, time to find another number. It’s in a weird spot in the middle of the ocean. For whatever reason, this area in the ocean feels really distressing for her. But, regardless, instead of a storm hitting and Rio suddenly going “missing”— as the crew tries deciphering the location, her “powers” take over and cursed by something unknown she jumps from the airship into the sea, followed by Shark who dives in after her (and yuma dives in after shark). Very dumb but the episode must start somehow. And this is likely played more seriously but I can’t help but laugh a bit at the thought.

Shark awakes in an undersea labyrinth, and somehow isn’t dead. Wtf? But hey! He found Rio nearby and she’s okay! The goal is finding the number tho, and her “powers” lead them to it. And uh oh here we go. A guardian is here to keep them from taking it. (As for Yuma, he and Astral’s sideplot about getting lost in the labyrinth is exactly the same, so dw about this)

The duel??? I said I wouldn’t change most, but this is a major exception. I’m making it Shark and Rio VS. Abyss. A two on one duel. We never once saw Rio and Shark play off each other in a duel setting when working together, and I feel like that was a prime missed opportunity. Especially for characters who just episodes prior, had this really weird one v. one duel. This needs something of a resolution. ALSO The memories here do involve both of them, so let both of them go ham.

However, since the memory flashbacks tend to tie into Merag a liiiittle more already (and the more major Nasch stuff will come later), Rio should be the first person to experience the Barian memories out of the two of them. We already got a bit of that with her visions at the start. As the duel progresses, Rio becomes more distressed by what she’s experiencing. During the duel Rio has lots of out of body experiences, on the one hand she’s present in the duel. On the other hand, she slips back into living life as Priestess Merag. But, for some reason, he doesn’t have a lot of control of herself?

But obviously, what Rio remembers is far worse since she pretty much relives her own death and can’t control her “mind.”

Meanwhile, Shark also goes through his vision onslaught, clearly thinking majority of this is some kind of manipulation tactic by Abyss. Episode more or less plays out the same minus damsel stuff. Durbe confronting Yuma and Astral still happens, Abyss being cryptic as hell still occurs and you know. Anyway, they win and get the number, and they all reappear on the deck of the airship knocked out. Everyone wakes up, it feels like a dream but they have the number?? So it couldn’t be?? Rio wakes up last though, which momentarily scares Shark.

TIME FOR REFLECTION!! Rio is fine, but clearly shaken. All those visions she saw… they meant something. Something inside her is telling her that. While Shark too is distraught and stressed by what he experienced during the duel… he doesn’t come to grips at all with it. He’s in more overt denial. In fact, he’s furious. Their lives weren’t lies?! How can she even THINK that? NONE of that was real! Also, wtf why the fuck did she jump into the ocean?! She could’ve died! Shark is emotionally overwhelmed both in potentially losing his sister again, and also the whole barian thing.

Rio isn’t on board either, but she’s always been the more “open” of the two. She’s not down for Shark’s behavior in the slightest, nor his seeming lack of empathy. Y’know? That more abrasive denial thing from Shark that feels a bit more in-line than just moping about a dead sister. Also, she literally relived dying so like. Fuck man that whole lack of empathy thing isn’t cool to her.

P.S Rio isn’t saying they’re Barians, but, maybe it’s her powers of “foresight” getting to her… something about what she saw feels too real to ignore, while the A plot goes on, she’s processing that very real possibility. This starts to cause something of a rift between otherwise close siblings.

Durbe proceeds to use this to his advantage.

[Next episodes: astral dies. Those episodes play out exactly the same except now Rio is part of the peanut gallery. The fearsome four stuff begins]

SHARK AND THOMAS VS. JELLYFISH MAN

Ok we know what happens in the original. Sort of. I’ll be honest? Haven’t seen these eps in a while. But, Shark goes to his old mansion to relive childhood memories, meanwhile coma Rio is poisoned by jelly man, and Shark also gets poisoned too. IV shows up dadada he’s sorry about the Rio thing but he never speaks to her. Things are gettin’ crazy. Something to that effect, I probably went out of order.

I think what I’d do is have Shark and Rio get into a fight about the barian stuff. Or something that really exemplifies the rift between that’s grown between them since Abyss. Either way, it leads to Shark leaving to the one place he feels he can really think — their old childhood home.

(Also Blah blah plot about strings of poisonings fucking people up is going on in the background that Yuma, Trey and Tori are focused on. Why not the numbers club?? Idk you tell me. Real zexal won’t allow that.)

Rio, in the meantime, after reflecting on what was said and done- goes to find Shark. And she knows exactly where he’d go. (Yuma, III, and Tori are present when she does this so they pursue her shortly thereafter. This is to replace the moments in the hospital)

P.S Durbe is watching all of this happen.

Shark reminisces at the mansion, and is promptly attacked by a monster and poisoned. IV shows up how he does originally and yadada duel starts.

Halfway through Rio and co. Find shark and IV dueling jellyfish man. Rio recognizes her bro is hurt, but Shark is not down for Rio or anybody else tagging in for any reason. There’s an interruptive conflict that’s super awkward for everyone involved (so maybe levity from jellyfish or IV can be put here) Yuma and co. show up at the tail end of this brief exchange.

And Rio, still riled up despite attempting to reach out, retreats into the mansion. The duel outside continues, but inside is where she encounters Durbe.

Ideally a moment would be had between Rio and Durbe similarly to a scene in a later episode with Shark and Durbe, but for the most part this will be small and not seen in full. But Durbe holds out Merag’s crest to Rio and he likely says some cryptic anime nonsense about “destiny” or something.

Because she’s been sensing “it” since the Abyss duel, and he firmly believes that she’s known the truth for a lot longer than she wants to admit.

We don’t see Rio again until the duel ends and she’s found inside the mansion. She seems, at “peace” for some reason? Something about her feels… different. Durbe is nowhere to be seen.

Insert moment here where IV and Rio actually, y’know. TALK. But things are kinda too late-ish now… cuz Rio has somebody else to deal with next.

[astral world arc begins]

Aight, while Yuma is off in Astral world dueling Eliphas and saving Astral, Durbe finally puts his final phase into motion to FINALLY convince Shark to accept who he actually is. Something he’s been fighting for a while now. And surprisingly, Rio is helping Durbe, much to Shark’s shock.

Shark at this point had been in his anguish full of regret for being pretty bitchy lately. All the fights, this barian stuff, the confusion, the fact it’s like he doesn’t even KNOW his sister anymore (and this Shark very likely doesn’t), it’s overwhelming as fuck and he’s tired.

Episode plays out normally with Durbe making Shark relive his life during his last encounter with Vector, the Iris thing, the men dying blah blah. That episode is kind of awesome to begin with, so borderline nothing changes here.

The the difference mostly being that the setup is a bit more concrete. Instead of Rio kinda just, being dead and a spirit “guide” to help Shark’s wangst and immediately following his face-heel turn with no insight on how she felt, we’ve been experiencing how she feels for a while and been seeing how it affects her and Shark’s relationship for a while.

It’s eventually mentioned that Durbe showed Rio these memories back at the mansion. Because showing somebody their twins terrible life after you died definitely isn’t horrifying!! Anyway, Rio came to accept the truth… because, like Durbe said before, she’s “always” known.

HOW? Because it turns out Rio’s powers of foresight she’s been experiencing throughout the series were her memories of being Merag trying really really hard to get out this whole time. That’s why she acts differently in those sudden moments. That’s how Rio knows these she couldn’t possibly know.

Rio being present as a “spirit” is there to help guide Shark through this experience, because he’s always been doing things alone for her. Time she returned the favor.

Everything plays out pretty much exactly the same, after all that anguish and reliving trauma where his army dies and Iris dies- Shark FINALLY accepts the truth about himself being Nasch. He and Rio switch sides together (because they weren’t going to do it alone).

Nasch and Merag take their spots in Barian World, and stuff proceeds to play out as normal. Sort of.

None of this is really all that great, but it’s a start? Again, I’m not a writer and a lot of this would realistically be overshadowed by the scheduled duels that play out, the A plot with Yuma, and generally be a lot more condensed due to the limited amount of episodes left. All this to say that there’s more ways than “dead sister” to make something happen. I dunno these are all minor shifts and my vocabulary is hyperbolic.

#antidote asks #again I'm not a writer #the focus is mostly the same. I just didn't like all the wangst #this series isn’t exactly high art in terms of writing so I wouldn’t call this perfect.#THIS TOOK ME MOST OF LAST NIGHT AND THIS MORNINGFF

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imaginaryhuman · 3 years

Text

Insecurities, Fortitude and the Unfortunate Phenomenon of Gatekeeping

Note:

1. I'm trying to not be afraid of my own opinions (this will probably get a different word wall)

2. This isn't a hot take or a "permanent opinion". It's just...current. I think opinions fit a dynamic mold. Or I think it should since circumstances change and experiences can change thought processes.

3. My initial draft for this was a lot more aggressive and angry. When I started writing, I thought I would only tackle the one thing I was very familiar with (insecurities), then I read an article that miffed me a bit because of the gatekeeping vibes, and for a while, I was angry about it but then I realized how common it was. I've heard it from my brothers, I've experienced it with fandoms, with books, with cooking, and with running. There's even a subreddit for it! 👀

It's not like I'd wake up one day and it will be gone. Still, it does push me a few steps back when it comes to conquering slight misanthropy. But it matters to me to say this cause I grew up seeing myself as some last draw.

_____________________________________________________________

"I feel most responsible for myself when I'm insecure" I've wanted to expound on this for a while so here goes:

I've grown to have an intimate (and rather painful) relationship with insecurities. I was a sickly child so I would be in and out of hospitals so frequently that establishing young friendships didn't come easy. Some kids didn't take kindly to impermanence too and it's not anyone's fault. It just happened to be that way. Growing up, I came to realize that I wasn't exactly great at anything. Had I not been exposed to extraordinary minds, maybe I would have come to terms with it much kindly except I wasn't. I always thought that people around me were brilliant, smart, and talented (until now). To the point where I felt the need to alienate myself from it all so I could remain in the forefront of my own mind.

Comparisons come naturally but having them weigh on you is a different ball game altogether. Learning ways out of it is always challenging because insecurities aren't just a singular form of monster-- Sometimes it's about the future, sometimes it's body image, sometimes it's the gripping idea of not being enough for anything you love and it's all so cursed and horrible.

There was that time when more things were piled up on the mental shelving. I was talking shit about someone. Sure, people do it all the time but I think that time I was... viciously and purposelessly nitpicking. Everything I could say about that person, I said it. Totally not proud of that moment and a friend thought so too! First, they told me to shut the fuck up. Just like that, really. Next is they pointed it out. As in told me "V, you have a problem and it's really fine being a total hater but you're not usually like this with other things you dislike. What's wrong?" and then we EXPLORED. Doing this can be so cringe a lot of times but hey, we face the music in this club! I was happy to not be thinking about it alone and the experience made me learn a new way of confronting things and issues that make me feel insecure.

We talked about the whats, whys, and hows of being one hell of a hater and how even if certain reasons are justified. Like, okay, someone did something bad to you and you hate them for it? That's totally valid. Do you find certain traits a bit off your tastes? that's valid too! But even if they are valid feelings, most of the time it's not enough to justify certain actions. The thing is, we don't really have the right to be so up in someone's business about every little thing they do. It's frustrating and I feel like a hypocrite saying this sometimes because I have the obsessive compulsion to keep everyone at arm's length but I feel like there's a parameter where peoples' businesses either become something welcome or becomes a blip on a radar that I'd aggressively shoot down. Although I know that my radar can get too wide and that I need some willpower to hold back snark and suspicion. What can I say, I'm weak to any notions of ill-intent (a byproduct of assault).

But fortitude would sometimes come from borrowed words:

"Don't deny yourself what you think but don't do yourself a disservice by not figuring out what it really is about"

I was told then. To be truthful but exercise tact (I'm neither tactful, clever nor silent hence the trouble that follows) and to be mindful of the undercurrents of my thoughts. I think it's important to take a step back and at least ask yourself the most honest and genuine whys.

Insecurity has a bad rep and is too often used derogatorily for something so common and rather natural. But I feel that ultimately, insecurity stems from an understanding of what you don't have and the frustration of having aspirations. Having aspirations being a good thing but the frustration makes us people act up in so many different ways. For me, insecurities have primarily manifested themselves through the urge to just hide everything that makes me happy because I couldn't (and it's still hard to) stand digs at the things I do to keep me sane. Plus I've always thought them (happy things) few and temporary so that's that. Younger me was weird about it omg.

The rule in this house now though is to express what makes me happy and I think I've saved up a bit of grit to not allow myself to be gatekept (by others and by myself**) from those happy things! I love a lot of things (baking, running, reading, pets, anime & manga, drawing...) and the gatekeeping going on with all those? Surprisingly plenty! A totally different word block (that I won't write because I think this has to be put to rest here), really, and also a total nightmare. But how it applies in the realm of insecurities is... Oh, boi. Ignore it-- it's just bad news as it is strong fuel to a fire you don't want to keep going. If you love doing what you do and you're not hurting anyone then just keep going. I know for a fact that the things I love doing are loved by many others too because running? Creating things? Reading? These are things worth loving without it having to be a competitive chore (If you wanna challenge goals though then hey! Good on you! YOU CAN DO IT!)

Draw your lines, plan your layering in a way that fits your style. Use the tools that work for you. Put on your shoes and get going. I'm only particular with speed because I want to get better (and lol I am not fast) but just being out there and moving? That's already running. Fail some recipes or nail em, whatever happens, just try. Fangirl over what you wanna fangirl about! Post it on your IG and all your other socials. A rather horrifying realization is that no matter what you do, someone's gonna take a dunk at ya. Worse, you can be intentionally approached and engaged for that purpose primarily. It's okay (not really but... if it happens, it happens ). Even if you're used to it, it will still get to you but maybe less and less through time. When the voice of apprehension guides you to retaliate in the most painful way you know, just keep the fear at bay and be strong to not let that urge take over your words and actions. Be frustrated! It's fine! And I really don't support self-harm so please don't misunderstand when I say that when it comes to fear and insecurity, there's a lot you have to take on yourself so you don't hurt others. A lot to unpack between you and your brain. There are people who can love you without patronizing you and those you can trust to reign you in when you lose better judgment. Be honest and let them in.

Have that conversation.

Extras:

- AH! But I got to say this cause I also saw a post that said "if you haven't ran 50 to 100 miles, you don't know what a hard run is" wow. Fuck that guy. Actually, don't. He's probably not a fun date.

- this: "you can be intentionally approached and engaged for that purpose primarily" is from experience. An extra worse thing is to be vilified for retaliating. Like...was I just supposed to sit there and take it?

- I used to not like motivational quotes! I mean, I'm alright with them now for sure! We were talking about them and I was asked "What's wrong with properly credited borrowed words? You use them all the time since you like referencing songs." and it was like a tunnel of light appeared before me! Sorry for those whose post I've frowned at! I had an angst phase! I am very genuinely sorry 🙏🏻

#personal #self indulgent #insecurities #word wall #writing #opinions and commentary #fuck gatekeeping

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fatefulfaerie · 4 years

Text

Relic

Incarnation: Breath of the Wild

“What are you doing?” Zelda asked, sitting on her heels on the bed, her eyes dancing with intrigue.

“Sorting through my clothes,” Link answered as he folded something blue and neatly placed it in another drawer. “I’m putting the ones that would fit you better in your own drawer.”

“You’re giving me a drawer?” asked Zelda with a hint of surprise and a slight smile.

Link’s head turned to her quickly.

“I…” he tried. “I could give you the whole dresser if you’d prefer.”

“No, no,” Zelda insisted. “That’s not what I meant. I was just surprised. Living here is just a surprise...a good surprise, but…well I guess I just didn’t expect your hospitality.”

“You’re the Princess,” Link reasoned, his gaze returning to the clothes, folding them neatly and sorting them before he started to fold another and the cycle continued. “I wouldn’t just leave you out on Hyrule Field.”

“If I’m being honest,” Zelda said, her shoulders rising and her long hair slightly folding as they did. Her eyes drifted down. “I didn’t know what to expect.”

Link didn’t reply, a silence returning that Zelda had become accustomed to a hundred years ago. Then, the silence was normal and expected as she prattled on about this or that. It was when he started to respond, more emphatically with each word that it was strange.

Now, he was so much more outspoken that the silence felt strange instead, like she had done something wrong and now they were back to square one.

“Thank you,” she said, attempting to break the silence. “For your hospitality. I don’t know if I’ve said it properly before now, for inviting me into your home, for feeding me, for giving up your bed, for clothing me in anything but that dress...thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome,” Link said in reply.

“Do you...have my prayer dress?” She asked, her head tilting back up.

“Yeah,” Link said as he grabbed it from somewhere in the drawer and offered it to her.

Zelda took it into her hands, clutching at the thick, scratchy fabric that never quite flattered her. Just the touch of it reminded her of everything she hated, praying hours on end to a silent slab of stone in the likeness of the Goddess Hylia, her skin like ice and her teeth like the tail of a rattlesnake as she knelt in freezing waters, her kingdom and her friends as dead as she felt inside as she and her knight ran to any sanctuary, the nearest rock, the nearest tree, the nearest nonfunctioning Guardian until the lights suddenly beamed with a sputtering chime.

She hated more than anything Link dying in her arms, unlocking her sealing power and realizing her love for him just too late, watching his last breath leave him and having to carry on without him.

And she hated the hundred years spent in torture, where she, in keeping Ganon at bay, was prey to each and every one of his tricks and traps to waver her hope. With Link exercising his greatest silence in his long slumber, all she had was that one last look he gave her, that one last look that told her that dark manifested illusions over years upon years meant nothing to the reality of the way he once looked at her with love. That somewhere, beyond the evil eyes that peered into her soul and burned her spirit, there was a dormant pair of calm blue eyes that showed love instead of hate, that could love her after all the death she’d caused.

She didn’t realize how hard she was gripping until a small tear on the dress suddenly widened. Zelda loosened her grip immediately until she realized there was no reason to.

She felt no regret within herself, no desire to sew it up and make it perfect, no desire to wash it and to rid it of the stains of Link’s blood, of Ganon’s malice, of Hyrule’s dirt and grass. She wanted it ruined.

Zelda looked to what was pattering at the window to see that it was raining. She imagined soaking and drowning the dress in the river before her ears sensed a nearby crackling.

Rushing out of the bed Link gave her with the dress in hand, she hurried down the stairs.

“Zelda?” She heard Link inquire, but she rushed to the fireplace nonetheless, sitting on her heels before it.

“Zelda,” Link asked, approaching her. “What are you doing?”

“I don’t want this dress anymore,” she said. “I want to watch it burn, along with everything that comes with it.”

“If you did it would already be in the fire,” Link reasoned, keeping his distance, but relenting to his instincts not long after.

“There must be some good memories that accompany that dress,” he said, sitting beside her.

“Maybe one or two.” said Zelda in reply. “But nothing that outweighs the death, the pain and suffering that was endured.”

“Any that I remember?” Link asked, Zelda looking to him. “Of the good memories?”

“Yes,” Zelda said before averting her glance. “It was always you, after all. Beside me, as you are now, comforting me whether or not protocol dictated you to do so.”

“Why do you do that?” Link asked.

“Why do I do what?” Zelda asked, looking over but not meeting his glance.

“You haven’t looked me in the eyes since I said I remembered you,” Link stated. “Did...did I do something wrong?”

“No, of course not,” Zelda insisted, forcing her gaze to lock into his. “It’s just…”

The truth of the matter was that she had the love in his blue eyes so ingrained in her mind over the past one hundred years that to see them again without it hurt a bit too much.

Of course there was the other truth that was easier to admit, the opposite to that warm memory, the coldness and darkness of what followed.

“Everytime I see your eyes,” she explained. “I fear they will close. That no words from me, pleading them to open, will ever work.”

Link looked down with an exhale, searching nothing on the floor.

“Wow,” he said with his next breath. “I...I’m sorry you went through that. I shouldn’t have asked.”

“I told you I would answer your questions,” he heard her say. “Please don’t be sorry.”

Link delayed his response, his mind wrought with his next words.

“You want to forget, don’t you?”

Zelda more than delayed her reply, deciding to not even give it.

“Look,” Link started, looking back up. “It’s not my place to make your decisions and even though I think you should keep the dress, I understand why you loathe it so. I wish that all that happened to you and to other people while you wore that dress never occurred. Sometimes I wish I could forget too, toss everything in a fire and move on. But honestly, most of time, I never want to forget again. I want to remember more and more because I know I’ve lost something important to who I used to be. When I first woke up, I wanted so much to mourn people without names and bodies without faces. Until I took great lengths to remember those things, I was beyond frustrated at my ignorance. From someone who at once forgot everything, trust me when I say that there is nothing worse than having pain and not being able to explain it.”

Link reached to take her hands, Zelda’s fingers softening from how they clenched at the dress and going smoothly into his.

“Years upon years from now, someone deserving of you will sweep you off your feet and you’ll get married. You’ll have children and grandchildren. You may want to get rid of this now but...what about later? When you tell stories to them and reminisce of the past? Won’t you want to have this? It’s a relic of the past in a world where those are hard to come by. Don’t you want to protect it? Like the Champions' weapons?”

“Is that why you want to protect me?” Zelda asked. “Because I’m a relic of the past?”

“Goddesses, no,” Link said, his expression melting. “Zelda, I want to protect you because I care about you. You are so much more than a relic. Here.”

He moved his hands to flip over her hand, placing gentle fingers on the small of her wrist and feeling a steady pulse.

“You are a living, breathing person,” he insisted, making sure he met her green eyes. “With a great big mind and an even greater heart. You are beautiful yet incredibly stubborn. You have the tact of your father and the spirit of the champions and I am beyond thankful that you are alive after everything you’ve been through. It is important to me that you are thankful too.”

“I am...” she said quietly. “And I must thank you that I am alive, but this dress just reminds me of the death I could have prevented, the pressure I was under, the hopelessness that dragged me down…”

“You talk about this being a future part of history,” continued Zelda. “That on account of our victory it isn’t something to cast away. But this dress has already been passed down along the Royal Family for generations. If, by your logic, I ever have children, I never want to subject them to the pressure I went through.”

“Then don’t subject them to it,” Link stated simply. “But keep it as a reminder. We can hide it away for now, maybe even forget it for a bit, but not forever. I don’t want it turned to ash and I don’t think you do either.”

Zelda nodded as she offered the dress to him, Link slightly surprised.

“Put it somewhere,” she said. “Somewhere that years from now, we’ll pull it out and remember again, with perhaps less of my raw guilt.”

“Understood,” Link said as he took the dress, yet he remained still. His blue eyes were on her green.

Link blinked his eyes closed slowly as his lips curved into a smile. As a bright blue breached through, Zelda felt her entire body warm as a very certain adoration shined in the way they melted. She felt as if she lost her breath entirely when she searched his eyes and saw love in them.

Although she’d prefer not to--and knew their adventure was more than likely at an end with Calamity Ganon defeated--she felt that the love she saw in him could carry her through any age-long battle with evil.

#zelda #link #zelink #botw #botw 2 #breath of the wild #breath of the wild 2 #breath of the wild sequel #hateno #tloz #the legend of zelda

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wingsofkpop · 4 years

Text

Hiraeth - I.III: Don’t Bite and Tell

pairing(s): Hybrid!Im Jaebeom x Reader, Witch!Mark Tuan x Reader, Werewolf!Jackson Wang x Reader, Vampire!Park Jinyoung x Reader, Supernatural!Got7 x Reader

genre: Supernatual!AU, Dark Magic!AU, Angst, slight Fluff, eventual Smut

warning(s): Mature language, mentions of death, brief accounts of violence, practice of ritualistic and sacrificial magic, blood and slight gore, etc.

word count: 5,1k

synopsis: How far are you willing to go to find out the truth about Moon Dye Bay?…

“I’ve encountered a couple hunters myself over the years, but never one who hunts and kills witches.” Mark watches Jinyoung pilfer through the scriptures him and the rest of his coven members managed to pull together after Youngjae’s reveal of a possible supernatural hunter in town. A murderous one, at that. Jinyoung skims through another page, before shaking his head, “The original supernatural hunters were created by witches to kill vampires… I don’t understand why one would specifically track down and murder covens? Nor how they have the power to do so?”

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out now.” With Jinyoung in tow, Mark heads toward the edge of the cemetery. The pair soon reach a small gazebo adorned with overgrown vines, where Youngjae and Jisung are sitting on the ground inside, herded around a large silver bowl, inside a tuft of dark hair and a special charm bracelet that belonged to Nayeon. Jisung holds a squirming black rat between his palms, while Youngjae proceeds to sharpen a silver dagger.

Mark turns back to Jinyoung, “We’re going to perform a spell to track whoever or whatever used dark magic to kill Nayeon.” The vampire nods in understanding, leaning against a pole supporting the top of the gazebo. Mark takes his place between the two witches before sending a white-faced Jisung a glance, “You okay? Or do you want me to do it?” Jisung immediately shoves the rat into his awaiting palms.

Mark takes the creature without a word, offering the youngest witch a soft glance. Once Jisung turns his head away, Mark quickly breaks the rat’s neck, internally wincing at the audible crackling of bones, and nods toward a waiting Youngjae. Youngjae slices open the belly of the rodent, causing warm blood to spill down Mark’s hands and into the silver bowl. Mark watches the bracelet and hair gradually bathe in the thick, red substance, before discarding the dead rat out of sight.

At a call of his name, Jisung returns to the triangle, appearing a bit sick, and joins his hands with Youngjae’s over the bowl while Mark cleans the remaining blood from his skin with a nearby handkerchief. Their clasped fingers immediately begin to glow, allowing both witches to finally begin the incantation:

“Inveniet hostium et tenebrae… Inveniet hostium et tenebrae…” Mark rises to stand beside Jinyoung as the two repeat the chant over and over again. However, his attention is stolen away at the loud, rather hateful call of his name. A sigh of annoyance slides from his lips at the sight of a fuming Minho storming toward the gazebo with a frantic Lia in tow. Mark bids Jinyoung a quick ‘be-right-back’ before hurrying over to the newcomers.

“You let that bloodsucking bastard onto our grounds again!?”

“I’m sorry, Mark! I tried to keep him distracted, but he saw our texts!” Mark waves away Lia’s worries and points her in the direction of the gazebo, leaving him alone with the red-faced, angry-browed witch.

Mark releases another sigh, “I know you’re upset—”

“Upset!? Oh, we’re way past that now…” Minho crosses his arms, “Not only do you completely ignore my warnings, but you go behind my fucking back!? Last I checked, I’m a part of this damn coven too.”

“I had no other choice, Minho. You made it very clear you weren’t on board with our plan—”

“And why should I be!?” He sneers, uncrossing his limbs to wave them at Mark in frustration. “When have the Primes ever done anything to deserve our allyship!? Much less our trust!? You of all people should understand that!”

“Until Nayeon’s killer is found, we are temporarily working with Jinyoung.” Mark pretends not to hear Minho’s last comment, choosing to hide his budding rage beneath a blank, emotionless frown. “He wants to help, okay? And I want to be able to sleep soundly at night knowing that my people are safe.”

“They’re not just your people… and just because you think you’re all high and mighty for calling the shots doesn’t give you the right to overrule everyone else!”

“Are you seriously still on this bullshit?...”

Back when the coven was first formed, and before Jisung joined the path down witchhood, Mark, Nayeon, Youngjae, Minho and Lia all came to a consensus that the coven needed a leader. Mark was voted as such by the majority, which he knew, never sat well with Minho.

The younger witch shakes his head, “I’m just saying that you can be a little out of tact with your emotions when it comes to situations like this—”

“And what the fuck is that supposed to mean!?” Mark hisses, unable to hold back the floodgates of his own impending temper. Minho buries his face in his palms, murmuring nonsense while pacing back and forth. He resembles a mad-man, is Mark’s main thought, before he slowly removes his hands and murmurs:

“I’m only trying to prevent a repeat of what happened last time.”

“I won’t let that happen.” Mark growls, “Things are different now. We’re stronger.”

“You say that now, until another one of our people ends up dead.”

Mark frantically shakes his head, “Fucking hell, Minho! I’m doing the best I can here!”

“If you were, then Nayeon would still be alive right now.”

Minho spares one last glance at Mark before spinning on his heel and taking off into the direction he originally came. Mark calls his name, once, then twice, but Minho doesn’t slow his pace. With a heavy heart, Mark follows the younger witch’s form until he disappears behind the gate of the cemetery, leaving behind an even heavier feeling in Mark’s chest.

“Mark?” He inhales a deep breath before peering over his shoulder at Jinyoung. Inside the vampire’s black irises, Mark almost swears he can see a spark of sympathy, but waves it off as a trick of the sunlight.

Jinyoung gestures toward the gazebo, “They found a trace.” No sooner had the syllables left his lips, Mark is already beelining for the decorative structure. He enters to find the three remaining witches deep in discussion.

“What did you find?” Mark’s wave of elated hope expels from his veins at the note of Youngjae’s wide eyes and pursed lips. He glances between Lia and Jisung, but only receives the same disturbed expressions. He shakes his head, “What is it?...”

“It’s worse than we thought, hyung.”

“What do you mean ‘worse’?”

“The spell didn’t trace to the hunter, or an object like we thought—” Youngjae pauses to take a breath, clutching Nayeon’s bloody bracelet in the palm of his hand like a life line. “The one who performed dark magic on Nayeon-noona was another witch…”

Mark’s eyebrows furrow, “But that doesn’t make any sense? If Nayeon was killed by a supernatural hunter, there’s no way they can also be a—” Before he can finish his thought, the puzzle pieces thundering inside his mind immediately click into place. His jaw drops, but not as much as his heart, “...unless we’re not dealing with just a hunter.”

“A supernatural hunter and a powerful, traitor witch.” Lia groans, carding a hand through her already messy strands. “And to think things couldn’t get any fucking worse.”

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

Vampires. Park Jinyoung.

Those two things have been haunting the forefronts of your thoughts ever since you saw them scrawled so neatly across that yellowed page. You tried to search for more information, more elaboration, more anything, in Mayor Bhuwakul’s recounts, but that specific entry was the last, and the rest of the journal was as blank as a cloudless blue sky. Except you aren’t enthused by this particular emptiness, in fact… you’re completely fucking terrified.

It doesn’t make any sense. The diary was written almost two and a half centuries ago, so there is no possible way that Jinyoung, and his so called brother, can still be alive. But then again, it does make sense. If Jinyoung and Jaebeom are vampires—

What are you even saying!? It’s not possible!

You curse at the countless articles about the Twilight book series that come up in the search results, having dealt with this same issue since you took to the internet to find more research. There’s another thing—vampires are fictional, just like witches and werewolves and all those monsters that go bump in the night. All those creatures are just made up fairy tales to scare young children… but then why are you the one quivering in your boots?

“Mrs. (L/N)?” You nearly flinch at the sound of your name, frantically moving to close the cover of your laptop. Your tension immediately releases at the sight of one of your students standing over your desk with an expression of confusion, “Sorry if I interrupted—”

“No, no. It’s nothing important.” You quickly say before sending the boy a pointed look, “And what have we talked about? Mrs. (L/N) makes me feel way too old. Call me (Y/N), please Hyunjin.”

“Sorry, (Y/N). I keep forgetting.” Hyunjin smiles sheepishly.

You shake your head with a chuckle, “What can I do for you, kiddo?”

“I’m confused about this assignment Professor Park gave us yesterday.” You take the thick packet that Hyunjin offers, skimming through the many pages as he continues to explain, “I get that he wants us to analyze different elements of the excerpt, but I don’t get exactly how I’m supposed to do that…”

“How to analyze the story?”

“How I figure out the right stuff to analyze.”

“Well, the thing about literature is that there’s no such thing as the ‘right stuff’ to analyze.” You meet Hyunjin’s gaze again, tapping the tab of your pen against the front of his assignment with a shrug. “You could read a story and feel one thing, but then I could read the same story and feel something completely different, and the author who wrote the story in the first place could have created it with a different intent than what both you and I got.

“Think about it like… eating an apple.” You hold up the apple you brought for lunch, “You can just eat it how it is, or peel off the skin and just eat the flesh, or even cut it and up and put it into a pie. There’s no one right way to eat it—” Hyunjin intently watches as you place the fruit back on your desk. “—it’s the same concept in analyzing literature. As long as you find some sort of meaning beneath the words, you’ve done your job.”

“Thanks, (Y/N).” You return Hyunjin’s smile as you hand him back his assignment. He tucks the paper into his messenger bag before nodding at the stack of papers on the edge of your deck, “Prof has you over your head in grading again?...”

“If you think this is bad, you should have seen what I had over the weekend.”

“He takes advantage of you, you know.”

You raise an eyebrow, “You guys all take advantage of me, and I’m not even your real professor.”

“Somedays I wish you were. I learn more from talking with you in five minutes than listening to Park’s ninety-minute long lectures.”

“Hate to tell you, you and your little entourage would get away with a hell of a lot less if I were in charge.” Your eyes shift toward the students lingering around the classroom, most either socializing or packing up some last minute supplies. You recognize Hyunjin’s group of friends waiting near the entrance, acknowledging their excited waves when they catch your gaze.

Hyunjin chuckles, his own gaze drifting down to the notebook laid open across the surface of your desk. His confused expression returns as he skims through your hastily written notes before you have the time to grab them from view, “Are you doing research on… vampires?”

“I-It’s for a, uh, a special project I’m working on for the university… about the town.”

“Moon Dye Bay does technically have a history of the supernatural—especially witches.” Hyunjin explains, “You know, if you’re looking for something, or someone specific, I would check out the archives in the Town Hall. They probably have a whole bunch of ancient stuff down there.”

Hyunjin’s advice sparks a multitude of new ideas within your brain: The archives probably date back to the beginning years of the town, meaning there has to be some account of residency in 1770. If you can find Jinyoung’s, or Jaebeom’s name, you’ll be one step closer to ending this ignorance… or one step closer to finding out a truth that could change your life forever.

“I—” You nod your head, “I might. Thanks, Hyunjin.”

“It’s the least I could do. I wouldn’t have passed this class last semester if it weren’t for you.”

A call of Hyunjin’s name snatches both the student’s and your attention. Hyunjin shouts a quick response back to his awaiting friends before offering you a sheepish smile, “I should get going before they come over here and drag me away, but thank you again, (Y/N).”

“Just make sure you get that assignment in on time, or it’s an automatic zero.”

Hyunjin throws both a radiant smile and a playful wink in your direction as he heads toward the exit, “See you next week, Ms. (L/N).”

“Call me that again and I’ll flunk your ass.” You shake your head and watch as Hyunjin, his friends and the remainder of the students filter out of the classroom, leaving you to your lonesome once again. With a heavy sigh, you bury your face in your palms, thumbing away the pain in your temples.

Even if you do manage to find answers, where are you supposed to go after the fact? If Jinyoung is a—is not human, then everything you’ve ever known and believed is just… gone. Turned into a dust like the ghost of a forest after a fire. If vampires are real, then what other monsters lurk in the shadows? What other monsters are here? In Moon Dye Bay?

...What kind of danger have you gotten yourself into?

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

The taste of bourbon runs bitter along Jinyoung’s taste buds, only to travel smoothly down the length of his throat and settle warmly in the pit of his stomach. He lowers the crystal glass from his lips, licking away the remnants of alcohol that remain before gazing outside the large, rain-stained window. The silhouettes of foggy trees and foliage stare back, doing little to cure the racing of his thoughts.

A hunter and a witch working together to kill other witches… and to think that he had faced every type of enemy in the book.

Jinyoung has met thousands of witches over the years, some who were not too keen on working with others of their kind, but never one who actively goes around slaughtering other covens. It’s against the Balance of Nature for witches to murder witches. Then again, the practice of black magic is too… so why would a witch, who already has access to such power, strive to kill their own?... Less it be for more power. But even then, to steal another witch’s magic would require mass amounts of energy beyond energy.

And he’s only met one other witch who has been able to foster that much strength to do so.

Jinyoung releases a deep breath before taking another sip of his drink, welcoming the temporary calm it brings to his mind. He turns away from the window to head toward the desk in the corner of his bedroom while shrugging the suit jacket from his shoulders. After throwing the garment over the back of the chair and setting his cup down, Jinyoung unbuttons and rolls the sleeves of his white shirt to his elbows, providing some much needed cool relief to his bare skin. He presses his palms against the surface of the desk, leaning forward to stretch the tension from his arms.

He’s not sure whether it’s because of the alcohol or the rain, but Jinyoung’s thoughts can’t help but shift to you for what seems like the millionth time in the past few days. Since your encounter a couple days prior, you always seem to make an appearance inside his head. It’s almost as if he can’t be rid of your face, your voice, your everything… not that he would ever want to. Especially since he made a pact to keep his distance—for your safety, and his sanity.

Jinyoung moves toward the bathroom while undoing his button up, ready to temporarily wash away the stress and concern of the crisis at hand, when his bedroom flies open with a loud crash. He barely has a second to process the entry before his body is shoved back against the wall, a pair of hands holding the collar of his now torn shirt and a pair of enraged eyes searing into his soul.

Jinyoung raises an eyebrow, “This was one of my favorite shirts, hyung.”

“You better have a good fucking excuse on why you’re hanging around with Tuan and his pathetic band of magicians?”

“Couldn’t you have asked without ruining my clothes?”

“Jinyoung…”

Jinyoung releases a sigh of exhaustion, quickly realizing that Jaebeom won’t unhand him without an answer.

“The coven is being targeted by a supernatural hunter and a witch. Their seer was killed last week.”

“So what? You suddenly care about a bunch of witches?”

“Mark and his coven are the reason we were allowed to remain in Moon Dye in the first place. If they die, do you really think the pack and the league will still let us stay?” Jinyoung shakes his head, carefully watching as Jaebeom paces toward the opposite end of his bedroom—his expression growing more and more infuriated. “Besides, I’m taking care of it.”

“You’re taking care of it? Really?” Jaebeom whirls around with a scoff, “Did it completely slip your mind that these are the same fuckers who tried to kill us to begin with? Tuan and his alpha wolf bitch?”

“I’m just ensuring our peaceful livelihood here, hyung.” Jinyoung stands his ground, calmly staring at his companion. “You may not care, and you may not like it, but frankly, I love this town, and I want to stay—it’s our home for goodness sake.”

“You’re playing with goddamn fire, Jinyoung. Do you really think they’ve let go of the fact that we killed—”

“For fucksake, Jaebeom!” Jaebeom’s expression falters at Jinyoung’s sudden outburst and lack of honorifics. The younger of the pair tugs at the roots of his scalp before heaving an audible sigh of exhaustion, “I’m too tired to fight with you. Please—just trust me when I say that I am taking care of it.”

Jaebeom shakes his head, “How many times have I told you not to fuck around with witch business? Do you remember what happened the last time you—?”

“I’m tired, hyung.” Jinyoung shrugs off Jaebeom’s starting-attempts-at-an-argument along with his torn shirt. He feels Jaebeom’s gaze following his near-to-bare form as he enters the bathroom, throwing one last comment over his shoulder, “And last I remember, you killed Jackson Wang. Not me.”

Jinyoung doesn’t spare another glance at Jaebeom’s expression and shuts the door, cursing the fact that he forgot to grab his bourbon.

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

“Don’t worry about it, (Y/N).” Jihyo carefully maneuvers her belongings onto one arm, utilizing the other to open the front door with some amount of struggle. “Sana’s boss is making her work overtime too, so I’ll just hang out here with Momo and Mina tonight.”

“Yeah, I got her text.” Carefully shutting the obstacle with her foot, Jihyo continues deeper into the apartment, pausing every now and then to stabilize the phone on her shoulder. She manages to make it into the kitchen without any accident, heaving the Chinese take-out up on the countertop with a relieved sigh. “I shouldn’t be long. I just have to take care of some last minute stuff for Park.”

“Just do what you need to do.” Jihyo quickly adds, “And please, for my sake, take a goddamn Uber home.”

Your chuckle carries over the line, “You got it, Mom.”

“I’m serious, (Y/N). With my luck, you’ll land your ass in the hospital again.”

“I’ll be careful. I promise.”

Jihyo tosses her purse on a nearby table before running her fingers through her hair, offering a small smile to Momo who suddenly emerges from the living room. She nods, “See you in the morning then.”

“Yep. Night, babe.”

At your goodbye, Jihyo hangs up the call and deposits her phone beside her purse. She moves to unpack the bags as Momo approaches, throwing a sheepish grin toward the newcomer, “It looks like it’s just gonna be you, Mina and I tonight, so I hope you’re hungry.”

Momo hums, her gaze remaining on Jihyo as she goes about grabbing plates and utensils from various cupboards. Jihyo can’t help but shudder from the intensity of her hawk-like stare, but chooses to stay silent while laying out the food. Even then, her skin still continues to crawl, especially when Momo begins to mumble to herself.

“Sorry, I didn’t catch that?” Jihyo turns at a particular murmur, tilting her head at her blonde companion. To Jihyo’s surprise, Momo doesn’t answer, but steps closer, practically caging Jihyo in the tiny kitchenette. Jihyo finds herself anxious at the lack of space. “Wh-What are you—?”

“You can see the tattoo.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about…”

“Really? Cause I think you do.”

Jihyo shakes her head, “It was honestly just a mis-misunderstanding—”

“Look again.”

“I really—”

“Look. Again.”

The rational part of Jihyo’s brain yells at her to flee from the scene, disliking the borderline sinister expression graced along Momo’s features. However, her curiosity seizes the remainder of her self-control:

She lowers her gaze to Momo’s right arm, finding the same dark, supposedly imaginary ink patterned in various elements: Jagged tree branches, illegible symbols, and compass needles pointing in an unknown direction.

“What do you see?”

“I-I don’t know.” Jihyo presses herself as close to the edge of the counter as she can, faltering beneath Momo’s still approaching form. “I see a tattoo, but-but that’s not possible—”

“Wrong.” She gasps at Momo’s harsh grip on her arm, “You can see it… because you’re just like me.”

“What are you even talking about? Momo, this is—”

“It’s just like I said,” Jihyo’s mouth snaps open as her companion releases her hand to poke the back of her hand, causing the inked needle to spin right there across her skin. She doesn’t know how it’s possible, but somewhere deep inside her gut—Jihyo knows everything is real.

“You’re a hunter too.”

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

There was once a time Jaebeom remembers where him and Jinyoung used to be close—a time where they used to be true brothers. The kind that were there for each other. The kind that fought side by side no matter the enemies who awaited on the other side. The kind that didn’t keep secrets from one another. Jaebeom would never admit it aloud, but sometimes he finds himself missing those days—missing Jinyoung.

A part of him knows he’s the reason for the distance that has wedged between them, but even so, Jaebeom is too pig-headed to willingly accept all the blame, more so since Jinyoung has burned his own fair share of bridges in their various lifetimes together. Some far worse than what Jaebeom has thought of doing.

Jaebeom never truly intends to hurt Jinyoung. He just gets so angry, and when Jaebeom is angry… he becomes very, very hungry.

And you just happen to be right there, walking through the doors of the Town Hall and into the greedy shadows of the night. The moonlight bathes across your skin, practically illuminating your body for his benefit. Jaebeom knows he shouldn’t—knows that Jinyoung may hate him forever—but just as with everything else, Jaebeom chooses not to care.

You’re being careful, he quickly notices, between the hesitant steps you take and the careful eye you keep over your shoulder. The knowledge only strengthens Jaebeom’s bloodlust. He can’t help but imagine how your blood will taste… Will it be sweet like honey? Or savory like a freshly-grilled piece of meat? His mouth waters in anticipation as he slinks closer and closer toward you. Like a predator rounding in on his prey.

Thanks to his inhuman speed and strength, it only takes Jaebeom seconds to immobilize and press you against the nearest secluded wall where even the brightest rays of the moon can’t reach. The scream you attempt to release is muffled beneath his palm, while his other hand busies itself with revealing the delectable skin of your throat. Your scent hits him like a pile of bricks, and it’s unlike anything he has ever experienced before. He grows frenzied, almost deranged by the fragrance, desperately craving more and more.

He easily counters your thrashes and squirms against his hold, practically suffocating your figure with his own. Feeling the thread bearing his self-control slowly splintering, Jaebeom parts his lips, runs his tongue across the pointed tips of his fangs and prepares to guzzle the pain away, when your voice slips into his ears:

“Don’t do this, please…”

He makes the mistake of meeting your gaze. All at once, Jaebeom can sense the tidal waves of your fear, your passion, your will to live just in the glittering rings of your eyes. It leaves him breathless, no longer controlled by his need to feed, and instead, floating amongst his own disarrayed thoughts and pent-up emotions that he only experiences when he chooses to embrace his humanity.

“Jaebeom…”

You know his name—

Jaebeom realizes at once he can’t do this—he can’t hurt you. Not when you’re looking at him with those eyes and speaking to him with that voice. No matter how intoxicating your aroma. He won’t hurt you.

Jaebeom grabs your chin with near-to-trembling fingers and leans closer until the tip of his nose barely grazes along yours. In a hushed, yet stern tone, he murmurs, “You’re going to walk home and forget any of this ever happened. You never saw me… Understand?”

“I—” He watches your eyes widen, “I understand.”

Jaebeom doesn’t stay to check the result of his compulsion, quickly stepping away from your body and dashing far, far away from that alleyway. He doesn’t stop even when he’s thousands of miles away from Moon Dye Bay, trying to escape this spell you cast over his mind. But no matter how much distance he covers, Jaebeom can’t outrun the lingering ghost of your gaze…

Jaebeom can’t outrun how, in that brief moment, you made him feel so completely human.

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

“I just don’t get how someone could do something like this.” Mark nods in agreement at Youngjae’s statement, watching his younger counterpart take a sip of his luke-warm coffee from his perch behind the lectern. “I mean, why take all these innocent lives—witches or not?”

“Some people are just… fucked up, I guess.”

“I don’t believe that.” Youngjae shakes his head, thumbing thoughtfully at the arm of his mug. “There has to be a reason, hyung. People aren’t just—born evil.”

Deep down, Mark knows Youngjae is right, but he can’t find it in himself to reply, silently continuing to flip through the old spellbook in his own grasp. This particular text has been in his family for generations upon generations. It was given to him by his mother soon after his magic began to flourish—the last gift he received before her death.

Due to the Tuan ancestral bloodline’s specialization in spellcasting, this book contains almost every spell known to witch-kind. He’s used its contents to defeat threats in various situations—this time should be no different. At least, he hopes so.

“If we have any chance at winning this fight, our best bet would be to take out the witch first.” Mark carries the large book toward the table where Youngjae is sat, setting the pages out for both of them to see. “I’m thinking we can halt their magic flow somehow, so there’s no way them or their partner can touch us—”

“So like a halting spell? Or a disruption spell?”

Mark shakes his head, “A simple halting spell won’t work. Not if they’re practicing black magic.”

“But what if we could pull enough power of our own?” Youngjae inquires, “I mean, with you, me, Lia, Jisung and Minho, shouldn’t that be enough to overpower their source?”

“Not necessarily.” Mark sighs, “Black magic is… complicated, but powerful. Depending on what or who exactly our witch is drawing from, we could be easily killed—especially if that is what they’re aiming for.”

“Right. Have you… heard from Minho? Since earlier?”

“No.”

Youngjae hums at Mark’s haughty answer, watching silently as the older continues to flip through the giant book. Upon reaching a certain page, Mark halts and angles his findings to better show the younger witch.

“We may be able to link their dark magic to something, like an object or even something alive. It wouldn’t necessarily block it, but if we channel it elsewhere, it could at least give us enough time to incapacitate them?”

“Will Jinyoung be able to take on both the hunter and the witch?”

“I don’t know.” Mark’s teeth sink into his bottom lips, his thoughts feverishly racing at Youngjae’s observation. An idea pops into his mind—one that replenishes a forgotten ache in his heart. Casting away the sinking feeling in his gut, Mark says, “The pack… might be able to.”

“Hyung…” Youngjae offers a sympathetic look that makes Mark’s gut lurch, “I don’t know if that’s a good id—”

Youngjae’s voice is cut off by the sudden slam of the mausoleum door, opening to reveal a dark silhouette emerging from the black of night. With Youngjae at his side, Mark immediately rises at the intrusion, preparing for a possible fight, but quickly relaxes when he realizes the identity of the abrupt visitor:

“(Y/N)? What are you doing here—?”

“Save it!” Mark almost reels back at the amount of pure venom laced in your tone, growing more and more confused at the blend of animosity, desperation and what seems to be betrayal, written across your face. “You better have a good fucking excuse for lying to me all these goddamn months, Tuan!”

“What are you talking about? (Y/N)—?”

“I’m talking about the fact that Park Jinyoung and Im Jaebeom are fucking vampires!” Mark’s blood runs cold at your response. At your next words, though he can’t see himself, Mark knows his face flushed as white as a ghost:

“And you—you’re a witch, Mark.”

76 notes · View notes

abanomath · 4 years

Text

DC’s Tone Deafness

So I don’t really like ranting or being negative, but DC Universe recently released an article to celebrate pride month about the Top 5 canon and non-canon LGBTQA+ relationships in Young Justice.

And the tone deafness is just off the charts. Like most of the world, I’m not American so I needed someone to screen-cap the actual article for me. I’m going to organize my thoughts and go down below.

General

For one, its pretty obvious the writer didn’t look at the source material. This article sounds like it was written by someone filled in on the basics and told to write a good PR article for DC.

There are a lot of little details in the story, such as when the writer claims that they “showcased even more LGBTQA+ protagonists in season 3″ implying they had previously, which they hadn’t. One character was implied to be bisexual in the comics, never on screen, but more on that below. Season 3 was the first LGBTQA+ rep for the show.

Also its always a bit tone deaf when in an article celebrating LGBTQA+ and diversity in your show, that you have a list of 5 “ships”, of which only ONE is actually a couple in canon. Not only did they need to resort to non-canon ones, they included people that can’t be called a “ship” or couple.

1. Kaldur/Wyynde

This is the only actual LGBTQA+ couple on the list that is canon in the show, and I liked them. But I can’t deny that Kaldur who was a main cast member for the past two season’s had a vastly reduced role (compared to straight cis white characters like Dick and Conner). He was basically written out of the first half of the season, and then his relationship was really present for 1.5 - 2 episodes max. This in a season that was marked with excessive attention given to heterosexual relationships (like seriously, basically every character was in some form of relationship on-screen). The one healthy LGBTQA relationship got less attention than Black Lightning and Dr. Jace’s romance, something that ultimately went nowhere, Dick/Barbara, even Megan/Conner when Megan was also essentially written out of the season.

2. Marie Logan and Rita Farr

They really dug deep for this “ship”. Ironically, they start this by talking about the scene in Young Justice #25, when Queen B’s powers work on Garfield’s mother. This was the first implication her being bisexual. And of course, she also dies in this scene, so starting off with a “Bury your gays” trope where Marie’s queerness literally got her killed and orphaned her son.

There isn’t much more to say about this ship, because it literally doesn’t exist. The shipping community for this is so small you have to go digging deep into tags to find even hints of it. The article even basically says this, posing the ship as a question. As being interesting. (Does it count as Bury Your Gays when both woman are dead before their relationship is even hinted at?)

In other words this article about celebrating LGBTQA ships literally had to try and CREATE A SHIP to reach 5 ships. Despite the fact there are plenty of LGBTQ fanon ships (Birdflash being the most prominent one left off the list). It really hits at the thing I said above, this is a “write us a good PR article with the barest amount of effort put into it” situation.

3. Harper Row and Halo

Oh boy don’t get me started on this. There are so many problems with how they did Halo this season, she is basically tone deaf personified. (For the purpose of this rant, I’ll be using the “she” pronouns for Halo, because I have no choice but to assume they are her preference, unless the show purposely spent the entire season mis-gendering her, but I don’t think her characterization really supports that she prefers “her/she”).

I’ve had a problem with Halo from the start, because she is basically an attempt for the writers to shallowly include representation without having to actually deal with it. She is Muslim representation, but not actually Muslim (as she confirms on the show). She wears the Hijab because she feels like it. She is genderqueer, but they never once talk about her pronouns. She refers to herself as “not feeling like a boy or a girl” and constantly refers to herself in the third person, but everyone uses “she/her” pronouns without asking her. They even have a scene where she informs them she is genderqueer, and its never brought up again without asking any actual follow up questions or awareness. They also infantalize and treat her as a little girl.

Additionally, she falls into one of my greatest pet peeves - she is genderqueer but for fantasy-scifi reasons. For those that follow genderqueer or transgender characters in media, this is a very common trope. Essentially, the trope is when someones gender identity is caused by/determined from otherworldly experiences.

This trope bugs me because it completely undermines the point of representation. Representation in media is supposed to show the audience that these are natural human experiences and that people like this exist and are normal. But the trope ensures that the experiences are not normal human experiences.

(and don’t even get me started on the fact that this show has made New Genesis tech gendered before, with Sphere. And even gender the bioship in the same season they pull this for Halo).

Lastly, she also falls within the “promiscuous bisexual” trope, with the very kiss this article praises as THE FIRST LGBT KISS ON SCREEN for the show. This is a problematic trope that DC seems to love. Basically, this scene has Halo cheating on her boyfriend with another young classmate, engaging in two kisses with her.

Now I’m not going to say that all LGBTQA+ relationships need to be wholesome one true loves. Problematic behaviour like Halo and Harper’s is a story telling tool. But the fact that the LGBTQA+ was told going into the season there would be LGBT rep so they should watch, and this was the first rep we got 18 episodes into the season? It felt a bit like a slap in the face. They could’ve had her break up with Brion beforehand, or any number of different ways that would even keep the scene in tact.

And the relationship doesn’t really go anywhere anyways. Harper doesn’t really remain part of the season going forward, Halo and her boyfriend continue their relationship after it was revealed until the end of the season.

This is ultimately my problem with Halo. There are a few tropes that basically are summed up as “writers put all their diversity into one character” which is basically what Halo is. Each of these qualities, from faith to gender identity to sexual orientation could’ve been a fleshed out character arc (oh! I forgot to mention she also falls into the “My gender identity isn’t cis, so my sexual orientation is also bi/pan/gay” trope). Instead all the diverse qualities of Halo are addressed shallowly as the show-runners pat themselves on the back.

4. Bluepulse

I’ve ranted a lot so I’m not going to go crazy on this point. You can probably find tons of posts about the drama between Bluepulse Shippers and the show, which again makes their inclusion kind of tone-deaf. Bluepulse shippers have been called disgusting by the fandom for the three year age gap, an age gap that was never confirmed on screen and you had to go digging in Greg’s personal message board to know (resulting in many people shipping them not knowing their ages at all).

In addition, the showrunners made it clear they did not like this ship over the several years the show has been off the air. And in Season 3 they give Jaime a girlfriend….who is a lesbian in the comics. Now Traci and Jaime did date in the comics before she came out, and this is another Earth. But when the sole purpose of their relationship being on screen was to tell the audience that bluepulse wasn’t happening, choosing a lesbian character to play the cis straight girlfriend is a bit of a slap in the face. again.

5. Bart Allen and Eduardo

Queerbaiting, nuff said.

For those not in the know, Ed is a character introduced as a runaway in Season 2, but he doesn’t really interact with Bart until mid-season 3. There is an episode where a group of heroes go to a carnival, and Ed and Bart appear to be on a date. They are in a group with all couples, except for Virgil. Virgil laments being the only person there without a significant other, implying that Bart and Ed are together. Additionally, Bart and Ed do everything that the other couples do together. It was pretty heavy-handed that the couples were there on dates.

And fans liked this! Even if Bluepulse wasn’t happening, Bart may still be bisexual or gay. This was made worse by Greg retweeting and liking Ed/Bart content, and not giving a straight answer on whether they were dating.

Which obviously, creates the expectation among LGBTQA+ fans that they will get together. They don’t. And later at a convention, one of the main writers (not Greg) said something like “its funny how the fans see relationships between characters differently from our intent” when asked a question about them. Essentially confirming that yeah, they didn’t have any actual content for them planned anyway. Though they did have an addendum that they may build on the fan reception/view of the relationship in the future (basically saying, maybe they’ll be canon).

As much as I’d like to be optimistic that they actually will get together and we’ll get a LGBTQ relationship that is in the spotlight for once, I’m not. I’ll be happy to be proved wrong on this point.

And that was my TEDtalk about how tone-deaf DC patting themselves on the back for LGBTQA+ content in Young Justice is. Especially when other animated shows do so much better with fewer episodes and screen time.

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bubble-tae · 4 years

Text

Cult Part 3

Genre: Thriller, Yandere Themes, Cult AU

Pairing: Jungkook x OC, BTS x OC

Warnings: cult themes, kidnapping, probably some sacrilegious stuff, Stockholm Syndrome

along with the general warnings, there is a part in this fic that alludes to assault, but is not mentioned in detail

WordCount: 4.3k

preview | 1 | 2 | 3 | tbc...

“I just don’t see why we have to go to this rat infested place instead of Namjoon.” Jimin said from the back seat of the car. He, along with Jin and Tae, were on their way to the old house some of them used to play in as boys, before the group moved further up north that is. Jin’s eyes snapped up to look up in the rearview mirror, giving Jimin a look he was all too familiar with. Taehyung, not wanting an argument to erupt so early in the day, interjected before the scolding could begin.

“Come on Jimin,” he started, turning around from the passenger seat to look at him, “don’t you want to go back and see where we used to play when we were boys?”. Taehyung’s smile was genuine, eyes full of nostalgia as he remembered the simple memories of his childhood.

“No offense, I don’t really care about where you guys used to skip rocks, we have a job to do.” Jin said with eyes concentrated on the road. Taehyung slumped back in his seat as he stifled a sigh.

“Just because you say ‘no offense’ doesn’t make it any less mean.” Taehyung muttered out.

“Fine. Full offense, I don’t give a shit about anything else than getting this stupid house ready for the girl. I’m not going to feel sorry for trying to save everyone’s ass from going to jail because little perfect Jungkook had to pick someone from town, let alone an actual college student. Oh, and Jimin? If I have to hear your whinny half-assed comebacks one more fucking time, you can walk back.”

Jin’s words hung in the silence of the car, the two younger boys stunned at Jin’s sudden outburst, especially since he had been quiet for most of the drive. There was no movement, no sound, save for the wind passing over the car as they drove. Taehyung lifted a cautious hand to his face, wiping a tear that had escaped down his cheek. Jimin returned Jin’s stern look from before, causing Jin to sigh before slowing the car and pulling it over on the side of the road. With the windows open, you could hear the slow rustling of the forest that surrounded them. Jin’s hand rested on Taehyung’s shoulder, who still continued to look out from the car.

“Listen,” he began, “it’s just been a rough morning, I’m sorry I snapped at you. You can tell me what you guys used to play while we get there, and maybe we can have some fun when everyone is settled. Okay?” Taehyung looked at Jin and nodded, forcing a smile onto his face. Jin resumed driving, gaining speed and anxious to get their destination. The car still had a painful silence, and Jimin shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“Tell Jin about that levitating game we used to play.” Jimin urged taehyung on, trying to get him out of the rut Jin seemed to have put him in.

“Everyone knows ‘Light as a Feather, Stiff as a Board’.” replied Taehyung.

“I don’t.” Jin said. “Tell me about it.”.

“It’s witchcraft and we shouldn’t be talking about it” Taehyung said.

“It’s not witchcraft! Come on, explain it to him. I need a refresher too.”

“One of us would lay on the floor, like we were dead, and the rest would sit around him. Everyone would put two fingers underneath the person laying in the middle, and then one person would start to tell a story. The story always was about someone who died, if we really wanted to be scared we’d tell a story we heard on the news, but I always thought making up our own was more fun. The whole point is that the soul of the person who died in the story will enter the body of the person lying down, allowing their body to become weightless. Everyone would say the chant, ‘light as a feather, stiff as a board’ while they lifted up the body. It didn’t work unless everyone kept on saying it.”

“And it really worked?” Jin asked.

Taehyung nodded. “One time, when we were lifting Hoseok up, Jungkook stopped saying the chant. His weight just came crashing down on all of us. Kook broke a finger, his dad was so pissed.” Taehyung and Jimin let out a little laugh at this last part. They could see it happening like it was just yesterday.

“Are you sure that’s not witchcraft? Kind of sounds scary for a bunch of kids.” Jin questioned. He had never played games like that as a child, his memories were full of hopscotch and stone skipping.

“Not as scary as The Midnight Man.” Taehyung shuddered at his own words.

“What’s-” Jin started to ask, before Jimin frantically interrupted him.

“I don’t want to talk about Him.” he said. “Shouldn’t we be there already?” Jimin’s leg was bouncing up and down as he bit at his nails, shaking the car slightly.

“I’ll tell you later.” Taehyung whispered to Jin, still in ear shot of Jimin. He sat on his hands to stop himself from biting his fingers raw, trying to concentrate on his breathing. He shut his eyes tight, but images of black shadows filled his head. Memories of his screams engulfed him, and he could almost feel his hands tug on the door of the room he was locked in. Scratching was coming from the black corner, but the feeling of death was what was the scariest to Jimin, that it was right there and he couldn’t even see it. Warmth ran down his legs and he wondered if he’d die like this, if they’d find his body covered in sweat and piss. If there would be a body to find. He didn’t know that the real monster was much worse.

“Jimin.” Taehyung called to him from outside of the car. “Are you coming?” The world came back to Jimin slowly, like he was swimming up from the bottom of a pool, desperate to reach the surface before he gasped for air. Jin and Taehyung were standing outside of the car in front of an old building Jimin hadn’t seen in a long time. Somehow, when he was lost in his own head, they had arrived. Though he looked down at his body and saw a man instead of a boy, he still felt trapped. Like he never did get out of that locked room.

“Yeah, I’m coming.” Jimin said as he hopped out of the van.

Taehyung put his arm around him. “You okay?”

Jimin didn’t answer but instead looked up at the old house cautiously, as if doing it too soon would send him back to that fateful memory. There had been a dirt pathway leading to the front door made from the constant comings and goings of the boys younger selves, now barely visible through the weeds that had grown over it. The door and windows were frosted over with a thick covering of dirt, the broken window shutters drooping towards the earth making it look as if the whole house was frowning at him. Jimin almost felt guilty for leaving it like this all those years, but it wasn’t his anymore. The untamed bushes and overhanging trees that scraped over the roof only proved so; it was Mother Agra’s now.

Suddenly, Jimin turned to his left and made a fast pace away from the house. He needed to see if the tree was still there, the tree that made the boys who used to live here men. Taehyung and Jin jogged to catch up with Jimin, only stopping once he did in front of a decaying oak tree. Jimin watched as termites feasted on its flesh and innards. This was just the way of nature, what is given is taken back by the earth in a tedious circle of life, but it still felt wrong to watch death claim something seemingly beautiful. Taehyung casually walked up the tree and patted one of its limbs, unbothered at the bugs that crawled over it.

“This is where we gave ourselves to Mother Agra.” Taehyung told Jin. “Way before we ever met you.”

“Gave yourself to the Mother of Nature? What does that even mean?” Jin questioned. Though he was familiar with most of the Goddesses, hell, even prayed to them in times of need, the various rituals those completed as kids were still fuzzy to him, only being known to him when going over certain passages in The Good Book sessions. Though Jin was the oldest, he still had much to learn.

“She’s also the Mother of Growth and Maturity,” Taehyung corrected, “she’s a very important part of our youth. She watched us grow and helped us make our way in this world. At this tree, we became men.” Taehyung’s cheeks flushed red from revealing such an intimate moment. Jin tried to stop himself from making a disgusted face.

“Y’all… fucked a tree?” Jin finally posed.

“No.” Taehyung said. “She made love to us through our caregivers.”

Jimin hunched over suddenly and began to vomit, the house and the memories becoming too much for him to hold inside. He whipped his mouth and hoped they didn’t notice as he rubbed the tears from the corner of his eye.

“Sorry,” he said standing back upright, “carsick.”

Jin gave him a worried look before turning away and saying, “Let’s hurry up and get inside.” The trio stumbled back towards the house, Jimin’s mind and stomach settling now that the tree was behind him and out of sight. Jin tried the door knob once they reached the front, only for it to be locked.

“What did you expect?” Jimin asked mockingly, pushing Jin and Taehyung aside as he geared up to kick down the door. He let out a long sigh before raising his foot, kicking as close to the door knob as hard as he could. The door frame rattled a bit, but stayed in tact. He raised his foot up and kicked it harder this time, but it still didn’t move. Jimin grunted and kicked at the door again and again, an unknown anger building up inside him. He kept kicking until the wood began to splinter, the creaking of the wood growing louder. Hot breath left his mouth as he yelled out and slammed his shoulder repeatedly into the door, his shoulder feeling like it was about to detach at any moment. He was still screaming when Jin and Taehyung dragged him away, his legs buckling under him.

“I can fucking get it!” he yelled at the both of them and swatting their hands away.

“Will you shut up and listen?!” Jin yelled back. As Jimin laid a few feet away in the dirt he heard it now, the barking and growling of a dog on the opposite side of the door.

“Fucking great.” Jin huffed with his hands on his hips, the dog still barking in the background.

“What do we do?” Taheyung asked as he helped Jimin off of the ground. Jin reached into his jean jacket and pulled out a pocket it knife. He switched it open, the blade shimmering from the midday sun.

“Absolutely not!” Taehyung protested, but Jin was already picking up a large rock from the ground. He hurled it at the closest window, the dog barks ceasing as the glass shattered and fell to the floor. All three peaked into the window, Jin using his elbow to clear the remaining glass. The inside of the house was dark and musty, full of tattered furniture and what appeared to be rat droppings. The wallpaper was peeling at the edges, exposing the stained white plaster underneath. A whining noise came from behind one of the old couches before a curious nose poked out from the side. The head of pit bull soon emerged, it’s lips curling back in a snarl when it spotted three heads peeking through the window. Jin propped his foot up on the sil, the arm with the knife lifted in front of him. He leaned in slowly and the dog started to growl again.

“You’re scaring it!” Taehyung said, pulling back Jin by the collar.

“Let me go!” Jin yelled back. He shook himself forward to try and shake Taehyung off, moving too harshly and causing both of them to stumble into the house through the window. Taehyung landed on top of Jin, the two of them hitting each other on the floor. Jimin began to laugh outside the window until the growling picked up, loader this time. The fighting boys froze suddenly, both looking up in time to see the pit bull only feet from their faces. The dog growled, saliva from its mouth forming a puddle on the ground. It would have been a massive dog if not for being malnourished, its ribs jutting out from its sides.

“Don’t move.” Jin ordered Taehyung in a whisper as he located the pocket knife, which had fallen to the right of them when they fell. Taehyung didn’t pay any attention to Jin and reached into his coat pocket.

“Kim Taehyung!” Jin hissed up at him. Taehyung’s eyes stayed fixated on the growling dog, his hand slowly pulling out a small clementine. The dogs growling slowed, but did not stop, as it sniffed the air in front of it.

“You’re just hungry.” Taehyung said softly. His hands worked carefully to peel back the skin.

“Be careful.” Jimin piped up from the window, too scared himself to do something. Jin rolled his eyes and slumped against the ground, trying to accept the fact that he was about to die from a rabid dog. He always knew he’d die at the hands of Taehyung.

Taehyung took a slice of the orange and held it out over Jin’s head. The dog’s growling stopped, and it stepped closer and sniffed the food from his hand, the scent from the orange causing it to drool onto Jin’s face. Jin groaned in disgust, and the dog started to growl again.

“Shhh,” Taehyung cooed, “it’s okay.” He coaxed the dog towards his hand again, gentle humming coming from his mouth. The dog took the single slice and ran back behind the couch. Taehyung stood up, not bothering to help Jin, who sat up on his knees and wiped the dog spit from his face. The dog peaked out from behind the couch again, this time its eyes dewy and wide. Taheyung crouched and held out another slice, the dog coming up to him and taking it, this time not running away. Jin and Jimin watched silently as he fed the dog slice after slice, petting it once it started to let it’s guard down. The dog finished the last slice and licked Taehyung’s hand for more, and like magic he pulled another orange from his pocket. As he peeled this on, he bent down to check the sex of the dog. He turned back to his older friends with a wide and innocent grin.

“I think I’ll call her Clementine.”

* * *

Yoongi drove Jungkook to the other house four days later, after Naomi had already settled down. There was a scar on his chin, freshly scabbed over, but Jungkook knew better than to ask; he wouldn’t have gotten a direct answer anyways.

“Long drive.” Jungkook posited trying to spark a conversation, fingers twiddling together in the passenger seat. Yoongi side eyed him before sighing exasperatedly.

“What’s wrong?” He grumbled out, barely a question. Yoongi didn’t hate the younger boy, he just didn’t like Jungkook acting so innocent. He knew what he could do.

“Just nervous, I guess.” Jungkook said. “I haven’t seen her in forever. What if she hates me?”

“Well, I’m sure after being drugged multiple times, thrown into a van, and dropped off in some dingy old house, she might not be in love with you. But hey, that’s just my take.”

“You’re great at advice.” Jungkook rested his chin in his hands, watching the trees speed by through the window.

“All I’m saying is that she might not be in a great mood, so don’t push it.” Yoongi finally advised. “And you better lose the nerves quickly, we are here.” Jungkook’s head shot back up, the car turning onto a small dirt path before the trees gave way to the old house. Jungkook might have felt nostalgia (maybe even a twang of guilt) coming to this house if Noami were not behind it’s own front door. Yoongi put the car in park but left the engine running.

“Tell Jin to keep his phone off.” Yoongi said.

“Are you not staying with us?” Though Jungkook had never been close with Yoongi, he’d be lying if he said it didn’t feel nice to have the older boys by his side.

“Namjoon needs Hoseok and I for something.” He looked over at Jungkook who’s eyes were wide like a child’s. Yoongi wondered if his boyish qualities would ever fade. Jungkook undid his seatbelt and slipped out of the passenger seat. “If things go well I’ll be back at the end of the week with supplies.”

Jungkook closed the door, resting his hands on the door of the open window to look back at Yoongi. “And if things don’t go well?” he asked. Yoongi looked down to his hands gripping the steering wheel, knuckles turning white. He put the car back into drive, before turning back to Jungkook.

“Then this was all for nothing.” and with that Yoongi began to drive his way back down the dirt driveway to the road and away from the house. Jungkook watched the van until it turned out of sight, feeling small now that he was alone. There was a sudden fear in his chest, like being in the wrong place at the wrong time, and he had the urge to run somewhere far away. He looked down at his feet, stuck to the ground as if planted there, and he could almost imagine roots growing out from the base of his foot. Jungkook turned his back away from the road, ignoring his instincts to get away, and making his way to the front door.

The front door opened before his hand could extend for the handle. Taehyung’s head peared from inside, a wide grin on his face. He pulled Jungkook in for a hug, a hum coming from his chest. Jungkook hid a smile against Taehyung’s shoulder, happy to be in the embrace of someone so warm. “I missed you too, Taehyung.”

“Will you guys stop waffling about in the doorway and get inside?” Jin called from somewhere inside. Taehyung let go of Jungkook so they could close the door, locking the multitude of locks behind them. It was warm in the house but the air conditioning was long past working, a box fan set up in one of the dark corners, shaking from overworking.

It was a reflection of the rest of the house; a musty smell that hung in the air, stained carpets, and Jimin fast asleep on the tattered couch, drool threatening to spill off of his lips.

“He was on watch duty all last night.” Jin said as he came walking from the kitchen, drying his hands on a towel. “How was the drive?”

“You know Yoongi, quite the talker.” Jungkook joked, earning a soft smile from Jin. He scanned the room, eyes falling on the door in the back corner. His heart seemed to stop.

“You could knock instead of staring at the door like a creep.” Jin interjected.

“She’s in there alone?”

“Nah, she’s got Clementine.” Taehyung piped in, earning a confused look from Jungkook.

“Don’t ask.” Jin said, rolling his eyes.

“I’m going to go say hi.” Jungkook tried to say coolly, failing to hide the anticipation he let build up. Jin plopped down in an armchair and motioned to the door, as if to say ‘good luck’. He made his way to the door, a shaky sigh escaping him his knuckles tapped against the door. There was no answer, not that he was expecting one, but he waited a few seconds before entering the room.

The door creaked open, revealing Naomi sitting cross legged on the floor in front of a puzzle, her eyes not bothering to leave the piece she was staring at as Jungkook closed the door behind him. There was a brown pit bull laying on the mattress on the floor. It lifted its head as he came in, blinking at him through sleepy eyes before resuming it’s sleep. It was dark save for a desk lamp plugged into an outlet on the floor, buzzing as it struggled to stay alive.

“Hi.” He managed to squeak out. She looked up now, surprised to hear a different voice than the three she was stuck with. Jungkook blushed at the eye contact, taken back by her fearlessness. He missed her confidence.

“Oh,” she said indifferently, “it’s you.” She looked back down at the puzzle piece, rotating it over in her hands a few times. Jungkook sat down in front of her on the opposite side of the puzzle.

“How are you?” He pressed, trying to get her to talk more.

She let out a heavy sigh that filled the space between them. “Still kidnapped.” There was a long pause, his thoughts racing to say something else, but he didn’t have to. “And you?” She added, almost out of habit.

“Still a kidnapper.” He tried to joke. She didn’t smile. He pointed to the dog on the bed. “Who’s that.”

“Clementine. We have a lot in common.”

“And what’s that?”

“We’re both just someone’s little pet.” The words stung, but he did his best to push the pain away.

“You’ll understand soon.” Jungkook tried to ease.

“I’ll try not to.” Naomi let out a grunt as she slammed the puzzle piece down, her head falling into her hands. Jungkook picked it up, flipping it over for a couple seconds before snapping it in place into the puzzle. She looked up from her hands at the puzzle and then up to him. “How did you do that so fast?”

“I spend a lot of time alone.”

“I don’t think that’s something you should readily admit.” He laughed at this, shifting himself on his hands to scoot to the left of the puzzle instead of in front of her. She didn’t flinch away, but her eyes watched his movements like a hawk. Jungkook picked up another piece from the pile, putting it into place without hesitation.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to steal your puzzle away from you.” Her eyes stayed unmoving on him, and Jungkook couldn’t read her blank expression.

“Why are you nice to me?” She finally said. Jungkook was confused, he was always taught to be nice to women.

“What do you mean?” He questioned.

“I get thrown in a van but asked what I want for breakfast. I don’t know what day or month it is but people knock before coming into the room. I wake up everyday hoping it won’t be my last and then you come in apologizing about puzzles. I think I’m going fucking insane.” She didn’t break eye contact once, but tears were starting to form in the corners in her eyes.

He didn’t know what to say and was stuck wondering what the other boys had said when they were in this situation. This was his test though, and he knew the only right way, was his way. Jungkook placed a hand on the edge of her knees. “I hate to see you so upset.”

She pushed his hand off of her, face starting to heat up with confusion and anger. “But why? What’s it even matter to you?”

“I care about you.” He said calmly.

“You don’t know me.” she folded her arms over her chest.

“I’d like to.”

“Then you should have asked me out for coffee like a normal person.” Naomi turned away now, crawling over to the mattress. Clementine licked at her feet to try and comfort her.

“Don’t you think normal’s just a construct?”

She rolled her eyes and let out a bitter laugh. “I don’t think that argument works here.”

“I get you don’t want to be here, but that’s not changing.” Jungkook’s tone changed, the honey in his voice fading away to a more serious note. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t help you feel more comfortable. Neither of us have to be alone.”

Naomi patted Clementine’s back, mulling over what Jungkook said in her head. She hated everything about this, but distancing herself from Jungkook might end up harming her in the long wrong. A lump formed in her throat, but she swallowed it. “Neither of us have to be alone.” She repeated. “But I’d like to be alone for right now.”

Jungkook stood up in an instant, causing Naomi to flinch. She’d be lying if she said that Jungkook didn’t scare her a little. She never knew what he was going to do, or what he was capable of. Jungkook didn’t seem to notice, a sign that he didn’t even see himself as a threat.

“Of course. Call for me and I’ll come, promise.” He leaned down to wear Naomi was on the mattress, pinky extended. She couldn’t help but smile at the silliness, stopping herself as soon as she noticed. Her own arm extended, wrapping their pinkies together. His eyes lingered on hers for just a moment too long, and she pulled her arm away when she felt her face starting to warm.

Jungkook gave a small smile before leaving swiftly without another word, the sudden quietness of the room ringing in her ears. She flopped down on the mattress, burrowing her head into the one flattened pillow she was given. Sometimes there was nothing for her to do but sleep, and she wished this time was the same, but she couldn’t get Jungkook’s dorky smile out of her head.

Author’s Note: Thank you so much to @chloefran for beta reading this! Also a MASSIVE thank you to those who have been waiting ever so patiently for this part, I hope it meets the standard :) Please don’t feel afraid to leave some feedback!

#btsghostie #jungkook x oc #jungkook angst #jungkook fanfic #jungkook yandere #jeon jungkook #bts x oc #bts angst #bts fanfic #bts yandere #namjoon fanfic #seokjin fanfic #yoongi fanfic #hoseok fanfic #jimin fanfic #taehyung fanfic

77 notes · View notes

ardenttheories · 4 years

Note

I super appreciate how willing you are to call out this shit with hs and this isn’t @ you but I feel like there isn’t much discussion with the writer’s team (especially kate’s) racism and how they act like the moral high point of stuff (ex: blaming tavros for getting abused) they they really don’t have any authority over

If I’m completely honest, I’ve taken to avoiding the writers like the plague. I’ve come to deeply dislike them both as writers and people, so I mostly go off information I’ve received from the fandom and their disappointments when it comes to writing my posts (which I do verify beforehand, of course).

However, I’m in no fucking way surprised by this. I’ve not seen any of the racism commentary (which I think we very much should talk about, frankly, and if you can think of any instances in specific, please send me links via the submit box), but I have seen the way they treat situations of abuse and victims of it.

You can see it fairly starkly in Pesterquest. Vriska, one of the most objectively abusive characters in the entirety of the original comic, is portrayed as a sad, confused girl, lonely, forced into a situation that she cannot control, one that she doesn’t like, one she wants to escape but has no idea how to.

It’s clear as hell that they want you to be sympathetic for her. In fact, it’s really easy to be. When you go through her route, it’s almost impossible not to be sympathetic for Vriska based on the way they wrote her.

But, Tavros? The victim of her abuse? The first thing Reader says is something along the lines of “But, Vriska? Dear sweet Vriska? You could never imagine her doing something like this - well, actually, you can”. And yet... our opinion of Vriska - that she’s a sympathetic character we should adore and who has only ever acted out of desperation - is meant to stay in tact. We’re not meant to dislike Vriska at any point in time, and we’re actively meant to help her ammend her relationships - which always comes down to “well, Vriska had it worse, so you should forgive her” (Terezi comes to mind here; her forgiving Vriska is very in character for her, to be sure, but it also feels like she dismisses so much of her own criticism and upsets towards Vriska in the process, as if... she was being pedantic the entire time?)

On top of that, if we look at the treatment of Jake in both the epilogues and HS2... oh, boy. He’s meant to be a beta cuck. You can just see that it’s lathered with that concept. For some reason, being forced into relationships you probably don’t want because of an addiction you might not be able to control, being turned into a sex object by two of your best friends who then both completely ignore your consent, the implications of him being sexually assaulted by Jane, his clear discomfort with her, the fact that he actively ran away from her - and yet, he’s still meant to go back and fix it because he’s “not being man enough”. Because escaping from your abuser isn’t good enough.

And that’s to say nothing about the fact that Jake’s had no presence in the Meat timeline after being brainfucked by Dirk. He’s likely suffered severe emotional trauma and psychological scarring from the fact that he was mindcontrolled into wholeheartedly loving someone he thought was his best friend, only to be cruelly dumped as some absolutely stupid (and OOC) form of revenge - and that’s it.

That’s all Jake is in the Meat timeline. Haha he gets denied look at him acting sooooo weird!!

He is reduced to this sort of... joke that we’re never really meant to think on more again. He suffered trauma and it’s just brushed aside because it’s not “plot relevant”? In both timelines?

I think... a lot of my issue with this therefore comes from the treatment of male abuse survivors. Again, Vriska is actually treated fairly well. Her trauma is handled with the utmost respect, and you’re actively encouraged to feel guilty for her, to want to see her get better, get help, to see her have something good in her life for once.

But, everyone else? Oh, well Tavros should have been stronger. Being permanently disabled is clearly an appropriate punishment for this! Jake’s just a beta cuck, his sexual, emotional, and physical abuse is no excuse for not going back to his highly abusive wife! And of course if we can’t get a joke out of him, we might as well not show him at all!

Even Eridan gets this treatment in Pesterquest. Even though he goes through the extact same revelations as Vriska - about gender, about his dad, about how he sees the world, about his own struggles with what he wants to be and what he thinks he should be based on the Alternian class system - it’s almost like he’s not good enough for redemption. Like he somehow missed the mark for being a sympathetic character despite the fact that he’s actively shown, in some ways, to be more open and understanding of himself and his views than Vriska. When Eridan is objectively the least bad of the two, considering his worst crimes are “lashed out at friends in self defence with an overpowered weapon he did not create, while grimdark”. He’s just reduced to “haha, man can’t get head out of ass to be big brain, deserve all bad thing in life”.

And, to go back to HS2 for Jade for a moment - remember how they reduced every complaint about how toxic she’s gotten, how questionably abusive and deeply unhealthy she is for her friends, to “well, the fandom doesn’t like her because she’s a woman of fucks”?

The writers have a very strict “women get a free pass for any abuses they cause, but men can never be forgiven and should be laughed at” mentality, which is deeply disturbing.

Give women the right to be strong characters, make them unlikeable, let them suffer trauma and lash out or make rash decisions because that’s what trauma can do to you, let them have unhealthy coping mechanisms, let them have redemptions - but don’t do so at the expensive of male abuse victims being seen as inferior and weak. Don’t do so at the expense of suggesting that men can’t be raped or can’t be abused by women. Don’t do so at the expense of saying “all men cannot be forgiven”.

What the fuck sort of mentality are you providing to your audience with that? How are your male fans meant to recognise that they can be vulnerable and can be open and can improve if you don’t let the characters they watch do the same?

It’s so frustrating because they can write sympathetic characters. They can show what abuse does to you, how people cope, how that can become unhealthy - everything we see with Vriska in Pesterquest is evidence of this. But it’s reserved wholly for her, and then they go so far as to blame victims for being abused so that she doesn’t have to take responsibility for her actions. So that she can’t take criticism.

God there’s just so fucking much wrong with it. Especially since, like, you’re right - they really have no authority to be saying any of this shit. If you don’t like the male characters, if you really couldn’t care for them less, that’s okay! You can focus on the women, build them up, make them detailed and developed, make them real - god knows we need that in media - but for the love of god don’t. Don’t shit on male abuse victims in the process.

#ardenttheories #homestuck^2 critical #homestuck critical #Anonymous

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