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#Otherwise usually if I get into something relatively new it's because I don't think I'll get obsessed with it
infriga · 5 months
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Tumblr: check out this cool new thing everyone is into!
Me, still obsessed with the 5-10+ year old thing that I've been obsessed with for the past few years:
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skaruresonic · 3 days
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what were your favorite things about starline before he was ruined
Oh, God, Starline. ;A; How I miss the poor bastard.
Beyond his design, my favorite things about him included his foppishness, his showmanship, his meticulousness, his (relative) calm demeanor, his "comedic intern" angle, and his devotion to licking egg-shaped boot.
Oh, and the most prominent aspect of his character, the linchpin on which all else rests: the simpery.
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I will give credit where credit is due, his simpery of Eggman coupled with his more cautious and lowkey nature (at least, compared to Eggman) offered a genuinely new and refreshing dynamic at the time. It didn't seem to come with strings attached as it usually does.
I also used to like his penchant for unintentional comedy. It seemed to be the same flavor of comedy with which they tinge some of Eggman's character.
Granted, Starline was probably always meant to be something of a buttmonkey, but later issues had him ping-pong between being Better Than Eggman(tm) and a buffoon. The constant switch made it difficult to fully invest in him in either case, because one minute we were meant to consider him a srs bsns mastermind and laugh at his failures the next. And not in the balanced way Eggman's humor generates; there were times I genuinely couldn't tell whether we were supposed to root for him or not.
And then, of course, he got crushed under rocks. Big oofed.
Starline used to be funny. Watching him rant and rave? Cry tears of joy? Make an uwu face as Rough and Tumble embarrass him in front of his idol? Funny, because it subverted his otherwise suave Bond villain image, and because you knew that eventually Eggman would crush his windpipe like a squeaky toy. Selling your soul to the devil can only end in tragedy. It filled you with a morbid sort of joy and a dark anticipation as you waited to see how bright this dumpster fire would blaze.
This was one pathetic meow-meow of a man, strange yet oddly compelling. Shame his delusions of grandeur stole away the entertaining aspects of his personality for a more boring, straight-laced character. Even bigger shame that we were supposed to pretend he never meant anything to begin with.
That's not to say Starline could never have had character development, nor that he should have remained a static character. Just as Sonic exerts a positive influence on others, show us how Eggman exerts a twisted influence. Make Starline's devotion to Eggman even unhealthier and fucked-up than it already was. Not in a "I can fix you" kind of way, but in an "I will light myself on fire to keep you warm" kind of way. To the point of self-destruction. That seemed to be the logical direction for such a character, anyway.
But nah, they had to drag us along Starline's unimpressive journey to strike out on his own. Which, like... He stole 90% of Eggman's shit anyway, so how effective was he really? And even if the whole point was that Eggman made him and he's nothing without his idol, then why did the book give him two mini-series? Has he been mentioned even once in the book since his death? Somehow, I very much doubt it.
I don't want to get into it with his creation of Surge and Kit because I'd rather pretend they don't exist, thanks. Yes, I'm aware Starline was originally conceived as their creator, but I think Flynn should have caught on that his character had changed. Realized that trying to cram him back into the original mold would only break him.
And you know what. Even after having suffered 30 issues where Starline was fucking insufferable with his whole "I'll surpass Eggman" schtick, I still felt sad for his passing.
To make matters worse, I felt foolish for my emotional investment, because dammit, I guess I was hoping his story would have culminated in something more substantial than "his favorite flowers are forget-me-nots (snicker)."
Now that I've learned that IDW can drop even their most popular characters in a heartbeat, I'm never making the mistake of even accidentally becoming invested in them again. They're not going to bother developing them or even give them a proper sendoff, so why should I continue reading?
Fs in the chat for my boy. They did him so dirty.
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Chortle headlines.
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Some of these are interesting. I don't know if it bodes well if Paddy Young is the absolute best rookie comedians in all of Britain, but he definitely had a good show last year (that got streamed on NextUp from Edinburgh). I have trouble believing anyone wrote a show that's better than both Paul Foot's Dissolve and Ahir Shah's Ends, but to be fair, I haven't seen John Kearns' show and he is very fucking good at these things, makes me hope even more that he'll be doing something in Edinburgh while I'm there. Alex Horne got an award for Taskmaster being an outstanding achievement, not quite sure what that means but I think it's accurate. I think if you look up the definition of "breakthrough act" you'll just find a note that says "see Sam Campbell's career throughout 2023", so that couldn't really have gone any other way. I've heard Kiri Pritchard-McLean compere a bunch on NextUp things, she is in fact very good at clubs. I haven't seen any of the other nominees but I'm still sure that James Acaster deserved to win that best tour one. I couldn't stomach the amount of Celebrity Glamour in Joe Lycett's new show but he is a great comedian and he is definitely made to be a TV comedian, which in some ways could be an insult but I really mean it as a compliment, he's great at that, good for him. Munya Chawawa posts highly amusing song parodies on YouTube. Fern Brady's is one of the best comedian books I've read. Three Bean Salad I was unable to get into, but maybe I'll give it another shot sometimes, after I finish with the winners of that radio award, John and Elis - well done to them for getting over ten years and not completely falling apart. I usually find it hard to get into sketch comedy (or anything that isn't straight stand-up) but Lorna Rose Treen made me laugh with character things last summer, so she probably deserves that one.
Those are my unsolicited opinions on that. The existence of Taskmaster is definitely an outstanding achievement for all involved.
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This a special feature that happens every once in a while, called "Chortle publishes the contents of Daniel Kitson's mailing list". I find it gets funnier the less it sounds like Steve Bennett knows about the news items beyond the contents of the mailing list email, and in this case, that is clearly fuck all. But anyway, it's a great show and exciting announcement, anyone who has the opportunity should go see this tour. He said in the email that he might try to get something going in NYC later this year, which would be incredibly logistically difficult for me to get to (8.5-hour drive each way if I can borrow a car from someone, which would be tough, 14 hours on the bus otherwise, I've been told I can't take any more vacation days in 2024 because I used them on the London/Edinburgh trip), but still, I have found myself wondering how I might be able to make that work if he actually announces it.
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Fucking hell. I can't believe this. My local comedian Facebook group is going pretty wild in response to this news. That's fucking huge, a massive amount of stuff is centred around this. To be honest I'm still not clear on the scope of this news so I won't go into it too much, I'll just say, fucking hell. Truly shocking. That's like a sport just canceling its national championships halfway through the season.
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Excellent. Everyone should read this. His 2023 show (which I think he's still touring) is one of my favourite comedy shows ever. And the one before that, which inspired this book, is also very fucking funny, though not as good as his latest one.
Also, I am up for a trend of one comedian per year writing a book about their relatively recent autism diagnosis. Who do we think it'll be in 2025? I have approximately four to five suggestions.
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gendervapor14 · 3 months
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8. What song would make a great fic (to either write or read)?
9. How do you find new fic to read?
10. How do you decide what to write?
(if not answered already), and 37 & 38! Fanfic ask meme❤️
ooh hello!! thank you for these!! i did answer #38, but i'll answer #37 for sure!
8. What song would make a great fic (to either write or read)?
ooooo as a music nerd i love this question and i apologize for how longwinded my answer is XD i don't do many songfics or much song-related writing [*shoves the title of two fights for freedom under the rug*] but i do have a ton of playlists and songs that make me think of specific characters or fics. to answer this question, i'll just pick one called "Fever Dream" by Dirt Poor Robins. specifically the part starting just after the 4:00 minute mark. the lyrics make me go INSANE with this idea for a dark/horror dq bros fic where doflamingo realizes that corazon is just a false identity and he can't do anything to get his brother back and it drives him even more insane. these lyrics make me crazy Now here comes the liar (lion) Clawing at your door Drunk on the blood of your brother And he's back for more (apparently the lyric is actually "lion" rather than "liar", but i hear "liar" so therefore i declare it is "liar" for the sake of my own brainrot) imagine a fic where rosinante is the one psychologically tormenting doflamingo!! unsure if i'll ever get around to writing it, but it'd probably have a similar vibe to blood gone sour.
9. How do you find new fic to read?
i usually do a nightly prowl under the one piece fandom on ao3 and either filter by most recent fics with rosinante or bell-mere. otherwise i read recs that are bumped on discord servers, or stories friends write! i'm actually terrible at reading tho i don't read nearly enough. when i have free time, i usually use it to create.
10. How do you decide what to write?
excellent question. i make a list of priorities. sometimes it's disorganized lists on my phone, sometimes i use calendars. first and foremost are things with due dates, so zine work, or gifts for exchanges, birthdays or holidays. next i prioritize stories that are works in progress, but already posted on ao3. i hate having incomplete works posted on ao3, so i strive to get them wrapped up asap. then it's a rabid thunderdome of all my other wips and ideas all wrestling for victory for who gets to be created XD i'm constantly bursting with ideas i never get to work on, unfortunately.
37. Promote one of your own “deep cut” fics (an underrated one, or one that never got as much traction as you think it deserves!). What do you like about it?
i'm gonna go ahead and promote spitfire and ice because i busted my ass on this for the crackpair event and i was actually really happy with the result? i was assigned makino x kuzan, so i threw bell-mere in there too just to shake things up, and then i fell madly in love with bell-mere x makino and their flirty banter. it captured my heart in a way i was NOT expecting. i guess the tags aren't particularly interesting to most, so it's relatively unknown with only 4 kudos and 31 hits. but look at this!! “Hey, I’ve gotta ask you something.” She leaned over the counter once Makino settled herself and refilled the pitcher for the next round. “Would I still be wanted here…after hours?” With a tight smile, Makino rested her hands over the tabletop. “We’re closed for customers after hours. I need some time to tidy up the place.” “Right, right…” Pretty gray eyes wandered. “But in this situation, I wouldn’t be a customer.” With an amused chuckle, Makino folded her arms over her stomach. “What do you want me to say, Miss Bell-mère? Do you want me to welcome you to my private quarters upstairs?” That exposed chest filled with air. “I wouldn’t be against an invitation.” smh. well, at least i'm proud of it!
ahhh sorry i got so rambly XD i had fun answering these! thank you so much for the questions!! here's the list if anyone else has a question, or wants to reblog it for themselves!
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lunaremy · 7 months
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My favorite headcanon is that nothing humbles black more than receiving an actual, wholehearted compliment.
Like, a backhanded compliment? Lol, perfect little ol' me saw what you did.
Straight up insult? Haters gonna hate.
But a genuine "I appreciate you" is like hitting him with an EMP. Just shuts him down
Aww....guy spends ages seeking validation but when he finally gets it, it just nukes him. i had to make a silly little book club to make this very slightly self indulgent story work so dont mind the 3 silly goobers....maybe ill draw a design of them later
Magpie, Illya, and Zeph.
That's the only thing Black knew about these folks. Their name.
Other than the fact that they had all taken an interest in his book meeting at the local library, though.
I'll bestow my perfect taste in literature upon you, he boasted. It'll blow you away.
Right now, he seemed a little blown away at the moment, unlike the group of three that conversed casually at his table.
"You ever read 'The Moonlight Shines Upon Us'?"
"Yeah. Everyone's read that."
"Cuz it's good. The plot twist at the end made me cry so hard..."
"I could see it coming from a mile away."
The girl in the glasses, sporting a garishly pastel-green bob cut.
The guy with dark hair and ridiculously huge pants that remind Black of some dazzlingly out-of-date trend from a few decades back.
The shorter fella that seemed to be accompanying Magpie, their hair in two childish braids.
And Black. Black, who had barely uttered a word throughout this entire meeting.
"There's this really underrated book that I think you all should check out."
They all turned to him.
He's perfect! This is just what he wanted.
"It's called 'Daughter of a Woman Scorned'," Black stood up to search the shelves for one of many copies, before returning to the group with a book in hand. "Really good. Really dramatic."
He pointed at Magpie. "And you won't be able to see what's happening in the story till' it hits you."
The group voiced their intrigue as Black placed the book on the table; Magpie was the first one to reach for it, and she began reading at, quite frankly, an unreasonably fast pace.
Only a few minutes or so had passed, and she was already around the fifth page despite the book being relatively large.
"What's it like?! What's it like?!" Illya perched herself above Magpie, trying to get a glimpse at the pages.
"Yo, Black! Can you find that book for all of us?"
"My pleasure," He says as he leaves to find copies of the book. They usually tend to be bundled up next to each other on the shelves, thanks to the meticulous and careful work of the librarians, so Black was quick to find and return two different copies of the book Magpie was reading.
Damn. He fumbled earlier, failing to grab a sufficient amount of books. But, because he's otherwise perfect, the group didn't notice because they were too enthralled in his legendary book recommendations!
The other two sit down and read as Black observes them.
"Magpie don't spoil the story," Illya mumbles, her nose deep in the book.
Black silently finds another book for himself, one he hadn't read before. He decides that he'll be fine if this book doesn't meet his absurdly high standards today.
This goes on for a good while.
"Wow." Magpie is the first to speak.
"Got something to say?"
"This book is PHENOMENAL, dude. You've got GREAT taste."
Black swears to whatever god there might be that his systems short circuited for just a millisecond as soon as he processed the sentence.
Quick! Say something! Before everyone realizes that your internal processor may or may not have started an electrical fire!
"Yes,"
There's an abnormally long pause.
"I am."
Metaphorically he was shitting himself.
That sentence made absolutely no sense whatsoever and there's no way to ignore the fact that his new group had noticed his absolute buffoonery. If he's not perfect, then what is he?
"A damn genius, that's what you are!"
Black attempted to feign indifference by hiding his face within the book he'd been reading for the past hour, but of course, it was all too easy to see him absolutely losing his shit, heat literally radiating from his face.
"Listen, I gotta drop Maggie and Illya off at their home so i can make it to my band gig on time. We gotta meet again!"
"Yeah. How does the 16th sound? At noon? We'll bring lunches!"
"Sounds great!" Black's voice is a little muffled from within the book.
"Next time, you should let us read that story you're holdin'. The cover looks interesting!"
"Don't worry, I will."
From the corner of his eye, he sees the group smile and wave goodbye as they exit the door, seemingly in a haste.
Reasonably, he knows it's because they're running late for a band gig or whatever.
But....
_______
"Yo, White."
"Sup, Black." He stops in his tracks. "You look kinda jumbled up. Bad day at the library?"
"No," The thought of the sincere words caused him to stutter again. "Just kinda...weird."
"Like what kind of weird?" As White knew, weird ranged from 'a little peculiar' to 'a lead for a world-ending conflict that's been lying dormant until then'.
"Like....social weird."
Not that White would understand anyways, but it didn't hurt to confide in him.
"Oh?" There's a weirdly passive aggresive look in his eyes. "So you can't handle someone else being just as important as you?"
Black does not respond.
For the record; no, he can't.
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notanotherinfjblog · 1 year
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How would you describe aural memory and recall? It seems less accurate in INFJs but it's hard to describe why. Thank you.
Hi anon! :)
Just to be clear, you are talking about the ability to recall auditory stimuli like conversations, sounds, etc. over a longer period of time, right? Sorry, I'm sadly not a psychologist or neuroscientist or something like that, but I'll try!
I think the reason that it seems less accurate in INFJs (or NJs in general if you ask me) is the abstract nature of Ni. Ni abstracts away everything. For instance, I'm generally very good at recognising different voices of people and I can recall them in my mind relatively easily, but completely devoid of any words. Sounds strange and it probably is, but the exact words and the tone of voice do not get stored together in my brain. I usually don't remember the exact words someone said. I abstract them away, summarise them, draw conclusions, form judgements. That's what I store in my memory, so it will absolutely not be identical to what was actually said since it's tainted by my own interpretation of it. I've had quite a few discussions about memory with an ESFJ and an ISTJ and their way of processing and storing memories is vastly different from mine. They store this information in an Si way, can replay moments of their lives again and again in their minds like a movie, which sounds completely insane to me. My memories are by far not as detailed. They are fragmented. And so, yes, less accurate. An example that seems fitting here is an interview with Wes Anderson (an ENFJ) that I watched for (and linked on) my collection post of interviews with different MBTI types. At some point, the interviewer quotes him back to him. It was about something that Wes Anderson had said in a previous interview and the interviewer wanted some clarification on what he meant by that. And he replied something along the lines of "I said that? Huh. Well, I think I understand what I meant by that. And I think I agree with it." That's some complete Ni detachment to vaguely agree with your own former self as if it was another person, having no recollection of ever being them. And funnily enough, that's something I've heard other NJs say as well, but not any other types. Don't ask me what I said or did or believed in in the past. I have no memory of ever being a different version of myself than the one I am today.
Another aspect to consider here is how badly developed Se is in NJs. We are so very oblivious to the real world around us as we block out so much sensory information (of any kind), it's kind of ridiculous. An example: I've met an ENTJ recently and it's extremely funny to watch that low Se at work in another person from an outside perspective because we fail in the exact same way. Entering our small office building from the back entrance? Orientation lost. Other people approaching and asking to sit on the chair that ENTJ is resting his arm on? Gets startled by the chair suddenly disappearing from below his arm cause he didn't hear or notice anything. Knowing where the exit of the canteen is that we've been going to for years? Uh, give us a moment.
We need to abstract away the little sensory information that we gathered because otherwise we wouldn't be able to remember anything. I can't replay any conversations in my mind. All my memories are best guesses that I assume happened that way, but probably didn't. And I don't remember things in the right order. When I think back on a conversation that I've had with someone, then I remember it like I remember the way to supermarket: some landmarks in-between as orientation points, but the space between these landmarks is a void. I don't know which landmark comes first or second or how to get from one to the other. I only remember that they exist. So, when I think back on a conversation, I might remember that we talked about where we were going to celebrate Christmas, the rude thing my boss did this time, new office supplies, etc., but have absolutely no idea how we got to any of these points in which order or what else happened between them. I won't remember the exact words or the tone of voice or the facial expressions etc. etc. This all gets stored either completely separately from the content of the conversation or not at all.
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lockejhaven · 2 years
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Hi Locke! I have a few questions for you, if you don't mind!
I'm considering doing WorldEmber, because it seems relatively doable for me, and I want to worldbuild for a new story that I want to write someday, but I have no idea where to start.
Where do you usually start when coming up with a new world? What are the most important things to figure out first? How do you come up with ideas for some of these things, basic or otherwise?
My only world that's fully worldbuilt I don't even know how I came up with the worldbuilding. It just sort of happened. So I'm kind of at a loss for how to start worldbuilding something from scratch like this.
~Morri🗡 (@memento-morri-writes)
»»—————————- 𓆩❤︎𓆪 -—————————««
𝚁𝚘ü𝚡𝚘 𝚔𝚘𝚓 𝚊𝚟𝚠𝚎𝚒; Hello, my friend!
I'm so glad you asked, Morri! I've ended up rambling quite a bit for this one, so I'll tuck it away under the cut. Apologies if it seems a bit all over the place; my train of thought has never had rails to begin with ❤︎
When worldbuilding, it usually depends on what I'm writing, or the thought that pops into my head. Perhaps your world is 'fully' built in terms of your current story, but that doesn't mean you can't expand on it anyway!
That said, you did mention wanting to start something entirely new. Personally, my new worlds are often born of inspiration that just.. doesn't feel "right" to fit into an existing world. My style of worldbuilding is slightly chaotic, but I think that's just how it has to be when you start.
INSPIRATION I get my ideas from all sorts of media; movies, books, tv shows, music, art, and often writing prompts. I adore stories and mythology, and many of my thoughts are birthed of 'what ifs' and my desire to twist existing ideas into my own. For example, I have inamorata that are based on angels in appearance. The difference is that their wings are often "unnaturally colored" and they bond with animals, and will take on the traits of the animal they bond with!
BIRTH OF A WORLD I'm not sure there's really one right way or specific place to start, but, I can suggest starting by finding maybe a phrase or two and working off of that! Whether its a character line, a description, an animal idea, or a reason for a city to be unique. You can also think of what kind of world YOU would want to live in, and work from there.
I will also often view it as 'exploring' my world and learning more about it. When I have a new idea, I'll often create a new document and just spit all of my thoughts onto the page in one big, horrible monster of a paragraph. The organization comes later.
DETERMINATION & PASSION What you focus on is up to you; my partner adores languages and will often focus on governments and societal structures in their worldbuilding, while I often focus on beliefs, nature, magic systems, and physical aspects.
Be aware that it will take a LOT of time for your world to feel as fleshed out as an older world. I've been building mine for around five years, and there's still so much to work on and explore.
OTHER RESOURCES Lastly, World Anvil might seem overwhelming, but I promise it's actually a wonderful start. The dashboard includes prompts for you to explore, and you don't have to fill out every single thing right away. Just put 'placeholder' or <to do> anywhere you don't want to deal with right away!
They also have a youtube channel, a blog, and plenty of other resources to help you, along with a super welcoming community.
I hope some of this helps, and if you have any more questions, you're always welcome to either send another ask or dm me personally!
»»—————————- 𓆩❤︎𓆪 -—————————««
~ Of Fables & Feathers,
🕊️ Locke J. Haven
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n1kolaiz · 3 years
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"Man fears death and yet, at the same time, man is drawn to death. Death is endlessly consumed by men in cities and in literature. It is a singular event in one's life that none may reverse. That is what I desire."
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Character Analysis: Dazai Osamu
Age: 22 || Ability: No Longer Human
I've done a lot of research concerning Dazai's character because of how complex he'd initially appeared to me. It is still a question as to what his personality type is; some say he's an ENTP while others argue that he's an INTJ, and his enneagram would most likely be 7w8 (The Realist), but that isn't the thing I'm going to focus on.
According to general databases and fan analyses, his temperament is dominantly melancholic. A person's temperament is basically how they react to and live in this world. For those of you not interested in such details, don't worry, I'll get to my point.
The melancholic behaviour is characterised by individualism, self-reliance, and reservation. People of the melancholic temperament are described as having been overcome with sorrow and depressive thoughts, which is beyond the feeling of "just being sad."
Nonetheless, they are generally calm beings, with a tendency to hide how they truly feel by keeping their composure, even in events that demand severe reaction otherwise. Other aspects of melancholic temperaments is that they are absorbed in the cruelty and tragedy of this world, and tend to get lost in their thoughts.
Sound familiar?
Dazai is seen to be as the comic relief of the adaptation, and he'd never fail to bring about a sense of lightheartedness to relieve the serious moments; we all know that for sure. Remember the time both him and Kunikida found Nobuko Sasaki in that godforsaken hospital, and how Kunikida asked him about his opinion on the current state of affairs?
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But, despite having developed a calm and serene personality, Dazai's dark side was more apparent during the Dark Era. There was a type of intimidating and arrogant flair evident in his behaviour, or even on his face. It was the type of demeanour that came off cold and terrifying to the rather unlucky people he dealt with. In a moment's notice, they could literally die by his hands. And I believe most of them usually did. It was during this time, he was more brutal and vicious. He lacked remorse. Plus, Dazai's suicidal ideations were more dense during this Era, and his suicidal tendencies did not do anything to alleviate the depth of how dark his character was posed to be.
Side note: Unfortunately, people misunderstand this 'depressed' part of Dazai; they minimise his character so much to the point that people use only a single word to describe him: suicidal. He is, in fact, so much more than that. I'll elaborate more on that in a while.
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"Hey, Odasaku, do you know why I joined the Mafia? I joined the Mafia because of an expectation I had. I thought if I was close to death and violence—close to people giving in to their urges and desires, then I would be able to see the inner nature of humankind up close. I thought if I did that… I would be able to find something—a reason to live."
Dazai's approach to life is that of an aimless soul, weary of the world's oppressions and exhausted from the concept of living itself. Nevertheless, what he said above about having an expectation made me realise something: he had a goal, which he wasn't that enthusiastic about achieving—seeking for a reason to carry on with life. So he joined the Mafia.
And there, he met Oda Sakunosuke.
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Despite how resilient Dazai carried himself to be (especially during the Dark Era), this specific excerpt stands in direct opposition of how he effortlessly embodied all things daunting:
"With every step I take, I feel as though the earth has opened up into a bottomless pit as I fall endlessly. As Dazai pointed to his forehead and approached the muzzle, the look on his face – like that of a child about to burst into tears – had already been branded upon my eyes."
- quoted by Oda Sakunosuke, excerpt from Dazai Osamu and the Dark Era Light Novel.
When I read this, it sent my mind into a spiral of despair and confusion. It was so vague, yet it made so much sense. Dazai was desperate to escape from this life, but part of him seemed to live in conflict with his desire for death. I won't elaborate more on this, because this specific excerpt has personal meaning to me, as I'd expect it to have for others as well; so I wouldn't want to ruin anyone else's perception on it.
Back to my point: Odasaku was one of the only characters who managed to interpret the complexity of Dazai's mindset and was able to compartmentalise the specific details of his persona that made Dazai the way he was. Oda knew that Dazai wasn't just suicidal.
"For most things in life, it's harder to succeed than fail. Wouldn't you agree? That's why I should attempt suicide rather than commit it! Committing suicide is difficult, but it should be relatively easier to fail at attempting suicide!"
Others boasted about how he was just a suicidal maniac, and that was only because of how good Dazai was at concealing his own feelings whilst flamboyantly priding himself in new, risky techniques, which he sometimes elaborated on. But Oda, on the other hand, saw through his jokes, and empathised with his friend, never wanting to ever barge into his vulnerability without Dazai's permission, but still trying to be there for him.
"Listen. You told me if you put yourself in a world of violence and bloodshed, you might be ale to find a reson to live. You won't find it. You should know that. Whether you're on the side that takes lives or the side that saves them, nothing beyond your own expectations will happen. Nothing in this world can fill the hole that is your loneliness. You will wander the darkness for eternity."
Notice how Odasaku recognised Dazai's despair, before Dazai even dared to acknowledge his very own emotions? That was why, at Oda's death, he took the initiative to uncover Dazai's bandaged eye to show him that there was no use in concealing his feelings anymore.
Odasaku's last words to Dazai was to "be on the side that saves people," for he was aware that even though Dazai didn't believe there was a clear distinction between good and evil, he thought that perhaps Dazai would find meaning in his life, even if it was just a little bit of purpose.
In Dead Apple, we briefly relive this moment, but I'll write more on that some other time.
And when Dazai joined the ADA, he loses that dark side to him. No, wait, let me rephrase that: he loses a part of that dark side to him. He eliminated the raw sense of bitterness against the world from his face, and instead, he is seen to be a little more passive, and a little more adaptive. No doubt, he still does explicitly state his desire to die, but his wishes are very specific, if you know what I mean.
And a few years later, his journey with Atsushi began.
Atsushi and Dazai's relationship is just one of a kind. I think it isn't a matter of whether Atsushi needed Dazai, or whether Dazai needed Atsushi. It's the fact that they both needed each other. It's the way they both worked hand in hand, and how they sustained each other in ways they were lacking.
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The two were polar opposites, but they had a tender kind of warmth embedded in their protectiveness for each other. Atsushi was just as lost as Dazai, but somehow, they worked together just fine. It was like their duality was meant to be. It was the type of symbiotic relationship, where their care for each other was implied, but very deep.
Does this also sound familiar... perhaps, in relation to Dazai's friendship with Odasaku?
Side note: Oda and Atsushi have the same enneagrams, which is Type 2, 'The Helper.'
There is a sort of balance that is brought about by two opposites. Odasaku taught Dazai many things, and I believe Oda learned a lot about a man's life from the way Dazai lived out his life with the innate desire to die. Atsushi sought for the right to live, while Dazai searched for a reason to live; in addition, Dazai validated Atsushi's feelings, and Atsushi was able to acknowlegde the amount of pain Dazai was going through.
Despite how Dazai's perspectives and beliefs stood in contrast with those of Oda's and Atsushi's, a type of inseparable bond connected the man who no longer felt like he was human, to the people who was the most human.
No Longer Human in the Japanese romaji is 'Ningen Shikkaku.' Ningen means "human," and Shikkaku means "disqualified." The late author, Dazai Osamu, wrote the book No Longer Human. He had gone through the rough throes of trauma and wrote this book as a semi-autobiography, whose plot was centred around a man who faked happiness, for he was tainted by the truth that everyone around him was fake themselves. He turned his life into a joke in order to protect himself from the delusions of this world.
This brings us back to the melancholic temperament, where a person was too deeply immersed in the sad truths of reality and the world itself.
And that's what Dazai's character and ability is based on: being disqualified as a human being, because he wasn't well-versed with what being human was actually like. The fabrications of being human sprung up all around him, but he wasn't willing to be fooled by how ingenuine the world truly was.
“I am convinced that human life is filled with many pure, happy, serene examples of insincerity, truly splendid of their kind—of people deceiving one another without (strangely enough) any wounds being inflicted, of people who seem unaware even that they are deceiving one another.”
- excerpt from Dazai Osamu's No Longer Human.
People who don't feel human emotions or don't react to circumstances the way humans do have a variety of ways of explaining how they feel inhuman. They are highly intelligent, which separates them from the average class of humankind, since they've analysed and untangled the truths of life in order to attain understanding, which they value above all else. But, this understanding of the world and its painful truths results in a deep kind of sorrow, which only a few people can seem to empathise with in order to help them out with that burden.
“Pain and suffering are always inevitable for a large intelligence and a deep heart. The really great men must, I think, have great sadness on earth.”
-excerpt from Fyodor Dostoevsky's Crime and Punishment.
Don't you think that this deep sorrow that lies in the heart of the intelligent, makes them the most human of all? They're too human, to the point where they don't feel human. Perhaps, it is a type of defence mechanism, where the mind numbs the heart from feeling normal human emotion, because logically breaking down such concepts is easier than feeling them. But it comes at a price. The heart is willing to recklessly comprehend and fathom any sort of emotion, including pain in its true form, but the mind bears more pain in understanding such concepts because it seeks to decipher every single agonising detail of how complex human emotions are. The mind thinks, the heart feels. There is a clear distinguishing factor between the two. Whether feeling hurts more than thinking, or thinking hurts more than feeling, or whether both these processes work hand-in-hand to make up the reality of life itself, is up for an individual to decide.
Only a few people can seem to empathise with intelligent people who are deeply sad at heart, in order to help them out. As for Dazai, it was Atsushi and Oda. They never took away the pain, but they made him grow from it; it worked vice versa, too.
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Of course, there are less tedious and more appealing aspects to the concept of Dazai's intelligence. Dazai was seen as a threat to his enemies because of how manipulation and his keen skill of deduction made up how sharp his mind was. Besides, no one could commit '138 murders, 312 cases of extortion, and 625 cases of fraud, along with various and sundry other crimes,' without having a certain level of intelligence, right?
Dazai had the moral alignment of 'chaotic neutral.' He was more focused on using his intellect to achieve the desired end results of a predicament, and he wasn't afraid to use the wrong means. A famous example was when he deflated the airbags of Ango Sakaguchi's car in order to gain the assured protection of Kyouka Izumi.
Justice is a weapon. It can be used to cause harm, but it cannot protect or save others.
Another example was when he blew up Chuuya Nakahara's car.
Just kidding. That was just a simple pastime (;・∀ ・)
His moral alignment points to what Oda said about him: the part where he mentioned that Dazai didn't really see any difference between good and evil. As long as his ends were achieved, especially if it were in the benefit of his fellow colleagues, he wasn't afraid to exploit, threaten, or endanger others' wellbeing. Because, at the end of the day, the end result triumphed the morally bad methods utilised to achieve it, correct? He always had a reason for his motives and actions, even if those actions were evil and inexcusable.
(eg. action: the psychological abuse he bestowed upon Akutagawa Ryunosuke.
motive: to enable him to hone his own ability favourably and to curb his arrogance)
But the consequences of one's actions will always catch up with a person, no matter what heights they've achieved.
Okay, we're reaching the end of my rambling very soon, I promise.
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“If I had to go, I’d like to go out just as beautifully.”
“I’d prefer you don’t go.”
This part of the post is highly inspired by iwachuwu!!
An important factor of Dazai's development is highlighted BSD Wan's episode 10:
I'd like to appreciate that this scene focuses on how much Dazai actually means to Atsushi. When Atsushi responds with "I'd prefer you don't go," he said it lightheartedly for he thought Dazai was joking. But he wasn't. And once Atsushi absorbed the fact that Dazai meant what he said, he was overwhelmed with anguish at the thought of ever losing Dazai. Dazai, on the other hand, had a sense of longing on his expression. There was that look of pure desperation on his face. He was so desperate, yet he knew he couldn't act on his desperation due to a promise he'd made to someone dear to him. But keep in mind, Dazai is unpredictable, so we can never be sure of what's going on in that headspace of his.
Nevertheless, this time, Atsushi recognised Dazai's suffering, as no one usually cared to do, and Dazai didn't put in any effort to hide how he truly felt, as he habitually did. And this mutual emotional connection happened countless times during all the times Oda spent with Dazai as well.
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To summarise,
Dazai's character had been carefully wired and patterned out in a way only a few would put in the effort to understand. Dazai was more than just suicidal; he was a being wandering from place to place with no specific aim. He was too smart for his own good. Dazai understood too well of how the world worked and deemed it void of any sort of hope.
Side note: Yes, the truth does come at a price, but it all comes down to how a person understands the truth. As for Dazai (both character and the author he was based off upon), well, it was quite tragic. But that's the way it is for some people, I suppose. But everyone has a different path to travel on, remember that.
His transition from working with the Port Mafia to the Armed Detective Agency was proof of how well-executed his character development was. It was two different personas morphed into what he is today: a womaniser with questionable morals a person who is still standing even after the rough refining process endowed upon him by the realities of this life.
However, he had people along the way come and teach him a thing or two, which perhaps made his life a little more interesting. Perhaps these people were passing clouds that hid the void out of sight for just a moment, and Dazai was always seen to be grasping on to these moments, and letting them go whenever it was time to let go.
His outlook on life makes his intellect look all the more intriguing. It shows that not only does his intelligence contribute to his own wit and shrewdness, but also the practical sense of realism that explains how tired he is of the concept of living because of the truths there are to bear.
However he's enduring the pain right now is by far the most bravest thing a person could commit themselves to doing. It takes courage, and it takes strength, but only a few would ever take the time to recognise such efforts.
Dazai has one of the most beautiful character developments, but I do hope that the development doesn't reach its end anytime soon.
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fanart credits: @S7dOZPN3jWBB6cW on twitter
“Now I have neither happiness nor unhappiness.
Everything passes.
That is the one and only thing that I have thought resembled a truth in the society of human beings where I have dwelled up to now as in a burning hell.
Everything passes.”
excerpt from Dazai Osamu's No Longer Human.
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spade-snax · 3 years
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Alright! Here goes my Bugsnax Grumpus last name headcanon!
(This ended up being way longer than I thought it would've been, oh god-)
I think we all can agree that the headcanon where a Grumpus child has their parent's combined last names as their own last name is a very common headcanon people share. It's a good one! Even I like it a lot. And when applied to OCs or fankids it makes for some hilarious names.
It'd make sense in-canon and I feel like it gives the Grumpus world more depth as their own little tradition. (Honestly give me ANY culture/tradition headcanon for Grumpuses PLEASE THOSE ARE MY FAVORITEEEE I even had one for teeth a while ago that I may share publicly one day!!)
But I've been thinking about this, especially because of Cromdo and my own OCs - Neddy and Rason Honeyfidget. With Rason being Neddy's dad, if we only used this headcanon then Neddy shouldn't have this last name... Well, there's a lore reason why he doesnt and that is that his mother has died while he was still an egg, a while before hatching. Rason made him take on "Honeyfidget" only.
But that's just the backstory that got me thinking at the name traditions as a whole, so I'll try to avoid OC talk any further to make this friendlier for others who do not know about my OCs and are just interested in reading this headcanon.
Another headcanon I want to mention as I apply it to my own is the headcanon that Triffany changed her last name to Bronica's last name as a way to honor her. You can definitely change your name to anything you want in the Grumpus world, but changing your last name to a relative's like your grandparent's last name is possibly quite common!
And now I want to bring up Cromdo and the fact he is divorced. It has been confirmed that Cromdo is divorced and that his name may reflect that. (Though originally it was answered in the AMA that "Cromdo Face" just sounded funny at first and that it is possible that he did loose a half of his last name this way!)
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Also I want to say that he wasn't abusive to the child mentioned! I remember there was a small confusion and drama about that. And I believe one of the devs on the YH discord mentioned that the 1# tie was a reference to Octodad. I do not remember if that confirmed that he is a father or if this answer by Sage was possibly wrong. He cannot see the child because he lost custody of them and lost in court. I do not have screenshot evidence of this. On a side-note I believe this could be one of the reasons he grew to be so money hungry. He didn't have enough money back then to keep his child. Again I want to say it could be ONE of the reasons and not the exact reason why he is this way.
This is more so of an ramble about my headcanon and what I want to say rather than some comprehensive thing, I am so sorry dfwergeg it's just how I write and explain things and I gotta mention it ALL (Great addition to "Guzma, your ADHD is showing")
Anyways, back on track with my HC.
But in this/my headcanon - Cromdo is divorced, he has had a child, and lost a part of his last name because of the divorce. I do not know how human marriage last name and stuff works properly so uh, see this as just speculation about a fictional species' culture rather than a carbon copy of our own. Which it clearly isn't LOL
I personally think that you can do multiple things with your last name when you get married! (And how it can affect the child's last name!)
Let's use Chandlo and Snorpy as examples, because I think they make great last name combinations. (And Snorplo is HELLA !!/pos)
- You can change your last name to your partner's last name, like we do commonly. (At least, with all the cultures I'm aware of and how marriage works for us.) Examples: Snorpy Funkbun, Chandlo Fizzlebean
(This one isn't very common to do!)
- You can change one half of your last name to a half from your partner's last name. Examples: Snorpy/Chandlo Funkbun/Fizzlebun
(Not as common either, but it still happens. It is actually more common than the first example. This was the case for Cromdo. I'll get back to this later. Grumps usually reserve this for their childen, which is the most common way of naming your children!)
- You keep your last name after marriage! Example: Snorpy Fizzlebean. Chandlo Funkbun. Canon examples would be Wambus and Triffany as well!
(Most common one to do as many wear their last names with pride or for other reasons - such as Trifanny when she changed her last name to Bronica's last name in this headcanon.)
Before we get to the kids again, I'm gonna go back to Cromdo and what can happen during divorce.
During divorce you can simply change your name back if you changed it, or keep the last name you took from your partner. Many simply change their last names back to what they were originally. Some, if they went by the half/half method, take away the half from their ex-partner only. This leaves some Grumpuses with one worded last names, such as Cromdo.
I think he changed a half of his last name during marriage. After the divorce, he didn't want to "wear" his partner's name anymore and changed his name to Cromdo Face only as Face was a part of his last name he was given at birth. This is most often the default for Grumpuses who have been divorced and took only half of their partner's last name.
If Cromdo - (or any Grumpus with a one-word last name! There's certainly rare cases of Grumpuses who have one word that didn't go through divorce. Possibly Grumpuses with bad attachment to one of their parents - so they change or remove that half of the last name they got from said parent. If their last name was a combination.) - were to re-marry he could take one half of his new partner's last name, or not change his name at all.
I want to get onto how naming a child would work with this situation, so I will talk about ways of naming children before I get back to this! And by naming I of course mean the last names only, lol.
(One rule is that, unless you change your name later in real life for any reason, it's gonna have to be one of these otherwise! Your Grump parent cannot make you up a new last name. It is just a part of the tradition they have. Though re-naming isn't looked upon in any way by the majority of Grumpuses as there are many reasons to do so!! Unless you're a jerk or you value your last name TOO much.) (Also when I say "you" I don't mean YOU as the reader literally. I mean a hypothetical Grumpus child!! It's just how I like wording things.
(...I've been writing for almost an hour, brain scrampled eg)
- Your last name is the combined name of your parent's last names. Examples: Fizzlebun, Funkbean
(VERY COMMON! Most Grumpuses will do this when first naming their child!)
- Your keep one of your parent's last name! Fizzlebean or Funkbun.
(This all works if you have multiple parents btw! Can make for SUPER crazy long and funny last names. This *all* applies to marriage, too! I hope it is easily applicable. I do not want to go in depth on that. Feel free to hit me an ask about this if you want me to explain it more in depth!! I wouldn't want to exclude polyamorous relationships ^^ )
(Also yes, last names that are just the same word repeated twice/multiple times are possible too. Fizzlefizzle, Funkfunk... How fun are these to say? Gives me Grumpus OC name ideas already.)
But yes! Back to Cromdo! Or any Grumpus in the same situation, but as I've stater earlier, Cromdo is just an example here. If he were to re-marry and NOT change his name, there's two posibilities:
His new partner has a full last name.
In this situation, if they have a child they can keep the full last name from Cromdo's partner. Or they can have one word from his partner + Face. For reasons stated below the child cannot have "Face" as their only last name.
His new partner has a one-worded, short last name like he does.
In this situation, if they have a child they have to name it a combination of their last name's. No exception. Having a short last name is a sign of something happening in your life, and it is traditionally not put onto a child, unless they are adopted with no last name. That still counts as something that happened in their life, as their birth parents possibly just gave them away with no care in the world.
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At this point I am almost completely off track, so please do ask me questions as I am not sure where I completely left off - Or rather if there is something I forgot that I wanted to mention.
By the way, for combining last names and such, you can also mis-match! Doesn't even have to be combinations. This applies to everything, even for (Full last name + one-word last names) where it makes sense the most. Examples: Beanfizzle, Bunfunk, Bunbean, Bunfizzle, Beanbun, Beanfunk. I'm personally a big fan of Bunfunk and Beanbun :P)
And this applies to siblings, too! It isn't uncommon for parents naming their children mis-matched last name combinations if they have multiple ones. (This ties into my headcanon for Filbo's many siblings and that he isn't a single child. He's in a big household and has at least 2 siblings. ONE OF WHICH I want to make into an OC! This requires me to make the parents, too, but I am not so bothered about that :P)
I'm out for now, all my brain power has left me a few paragraphs ago and I've got to go eat lunch
But again I encourage people to ask me questions (If anyone was brave enough to read through this!!)
And if I got anything wrong, do let me know! I am not all-knowing and I could've missed some VERY OBVIOUS mistakes.
And sorry if the writing is wonky at times! Sometimes it is done on purpose but sometimes the fact I only pretend I know how to write + the fact English is my second language IS SHOWING
(Also I sometimes just write how I think, without much thought put into the sentence if I don't proof read, so HSDFWERGRGT)
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suwya · 3 years
Text
Till the Stars Had Run Away - Chapter 6
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Summary: Killian Jones was a voyager. Actually, he was many things, or at least he had been - a lieutenant, a brother, a loving boyfriend - until everything had turned upside down and his life had hit an all time low. So, he gave up. Aboard his spaceship he abandoned Arcadia, his planet, navigating the stars and other solar systems in search of... well, he still didn't know what he was searching for, but his rule was "never remain in the same place longer than necessary."
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Rating: M
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Prologue; Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5
AO3
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A/N: Sorry for the waiting, but real life came along and I had to stop writing for a couple of weeks. Thank you @thisonesatellite for being the best beta reader I could ever ask for. And thank to all of you who are reading this. Happy Labour Day!
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Chapter 6 . .
Be not inhospitable to strangers,
lest they be angels in disguise.
(W. B. Yeats)
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When Killian regained consciousness he found himself in what reminded him of a military hospital. There were thin white curtains around his bed, but through them he could spot other beds like his, most of them empty. The room seemed large and dimly lit.
He closed his eyes and remembered the crash landing, the unknown desert planet, the great rock that was about to crush Henry, and that feeling of unease and imminent danger he had felt just before the impact. Where was he? And above all what kind of situation was he in, a good or a bad one? He opened his eyes again, and noticed he wasn’t alone. A woman was checking his IV, and a nearby monitor was beeping intermittently.
Killian tried to sit up, but a stabbing pain in his lungs made him desist immediately. He groaned loudly.
“Look who’s awake.” Said the woman, who was now staring at him. “Hello, handsome.” She added cheerfully.
Killian had found himself dealing with uncharted waters several times in his life. He decided to play the waiting game. “This is usually my line, well, more or less.”
“Really? In this case, I'll warn my husband not to approach you.”
“Don’t worry I'm not into men, not recently at least.” He smirked.
“Oh, but my husband is quite the charming one.”
“I still prefer the company of a fair lady, if I could choose.” He winked and chuckled, and a dull pain made him gasp.
“Take it easy.” She immediately shifted her attitude from playful to worried. “How do you feel?”
“As if I've been hit by a rocket.”
“Not a rocket, but yes, you’ve been hit hard. You’ve suffered two broken ribs. And believe me, you were lucky, it could have been worse. Do you mind if I run some tests and see how you react?”
“No problem.”
While the woman was busy measuring his temperature, making him follow a small blue LED light with his gaze, and extracting some blood to examine later, he took advantage of the opportunity to observe her more closely. She had short black hair and green eyes, bright and lively in contrast to her very delicate skin. Killian found himself thinking of another pair of green eyes, which had been filling his thoughts frequently lately. The memory brought him back to reality quickly.
“What is this place?” He inquired, eager to know what had happened while he was unconscious.
“Welcome to Vernal-Den.” She answered smiling.
Killian tried to remember if he had ever read about this planet. “Never heard of it.”
“Yeah, we’re not very popular.”
Was she too concentrated on checking-in his vitals, or was she being too concise on purpose? He didn’t know, but he intended to keep an eye on her. “How long was I out?”
“A while.” Another elusive answer.
He decided to test the waters. “Were there ….other injured people with me?”
“If you’re referring to Henry and Emma, they are perfectly fine.” She seemed sincere. “They are staying at our place. Henry has visited you every day since you came in.”
“And Emma?”
“Well, she can’t come in. She’s not a relative of yours. But she has spent long hours sitting just outside that door.” She said pointing towards the exit. “I had to order her to go home and get some rest.”
After that she excused herself, saying that she had to attend to other patients.
He realized she hadn’t even told him her name. He didn’t know if he could trust her or not. The fact that she had avoided some of his questions sent chills down his spine. And most of all there was the Emma problem.
Why couldn’t she visit him? Was it true that it was only a matter of rules? Or was she in some kind of peril? He needed to know what was happening behind those doors that separated him from the woman that had been pestering his dreams in the last ten years of his life. He had to know that she was alright. To hell with rules! He thought. And by the way, when was the last time he followed one. He had to get out of this place. He tried to sit up, but the pain in his lungs was so strong that his vision started to blur and cold sweat formed on his temples. He lay back down on the bed, aware that in his conditions he couldn’t have gone far before collapsing unconscious on the floor. He promised himself to solve the problem as soon as he had enough strengths, but he couldn't dwell too much on that thought, because sleep was reclaiming his mind again.
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Time passed very slowly, or so it seemed, but maybe it was simply the fact that every day looked the same. Killian was mostly asleep, probably due to the painkillers introduced through the IV, and when he woke up he couldn't tell how long he had been out, he couldn't even tell if it was day or night. There were no windows in that room.
During one of the moments when his mind regained consciousness, he felt the mattress drop slightly to one side and he slowly opened his eyes.
“You are awake! How do you feel? Can you breathe? Of course you can, you would be dead otherwise! Does it hurt?” Henry was sitting at the end of the bed, and he was asking a lot of questions, as usual. “Sorry.” He suddenly looked contrite. “I should let you rest, but…”
“It’s ok, lad.” Killian cut him off. “I’m glad to see you’re all in one piece.”
The boy greeted him with a wide grin.
Killian remembered the last moments before getting injured, and he was relieved to know that he had been able to prevent that rock from hitting Henry. But other worries crowded his mind. “How about your mom?”
“She’s fine. She’s outside. They won’t let her in. You know, only relatives and all that stuff.” He explained.
“I see. And why are you…?”
Henry didn’t let him finish the question. “I told them I’m your son.” He whispered with a conspiratory smile.
“Clever boy.” Killian’s chuckle turned soon into a cough due to the pain.
“Does it hurt?” The boy asked, frowning.
The man dismissed the question with a wave of his hand. “It’s not a big deal.” He didn’t want the lad to feel responsible for his well-being. “How many days have passed since we landed here?” He asked, changing the subject.
“I don't know exactly.” And at Killian’s questioning look, he added, “It’s complicated.”
“How so?”
“People live underground here,” The boy started to explain, “With no opportunity to look outside. And there are no clocks. My watch had probably broken when we arrived, it doesn’t work anymore.”
The man hummed, he was starting to understand. The lack of windows, the elusive answer he had received from the dark-haired nurse… everything was beginning to tally in Killian’s head. “I want you to think carefully about everything you saw outside this room. Did you feel something was wrong?”
The boy shrugged. “I don't know.” He seemed to ponder. “This place is strange. Lots of corridors and passages underground. We are not allowed to go out into the open. They say it’s dangerous. But I never felt a threat or something. I would rather say it’s boring.”
“Why boring?”
Henry was trying to find the right words to explain it. “All the days are the same, people repeat the same actions every day. They say it’s useful to maintain a routine. But I don’t think Mary Margaret and David are bad people.”
“I’m sorry, who?” Killian asked.
“Oh, yeah, Mary Margaret, she is your nurse. We’re staying at her home. She is very nice. And David is her husband. He showed me the greenhouse. It’s awesome and huge, you should see it! But I don’t think he works there. I don’t know what his job is.”
Routine? New people? A greenhouse? Well, that was a lot of information to process. But Killian felt sleep calling him back. Next time I see that lady Margaret, I’m going to ask her not to put more painkillers in my IV. He thought. “Thank you, Henry, for everything. But I may need to rest for a while now.” He managed to say before falling asleep again.
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Emma knew Killian was feeling better, Henry had told her about their short chat, and some of her child's enthusiasm had even infected her positively, but she continued to feel restless, she wanted to make herself useful. Most of all, she wanted to see Killian again.
All this absurd situation was her fault. And no, she was not thinking about the fact that Killian was lying on a hospital bed because of some bad decisions she had made lately. No. She was not going down that path again. She had already spent a lot of hours regretting many choices done in the last month.
But this was nonsensical, why couldn’t she visit a friend that was hurt and maybe in need of some company? She had actually had a chance to say that she was his wife; after all in the eyes of her guests, she and Killian had a son together, so why not lie a bit more and make Mary Margaret believe that she and Killian were married. But the thought of a possible long time spent together on this planet feigning to be a happily married couple scared her, and she couldn’t go on with the lie.
So there she was, sitting on a very uncomfortable metal chair in the waiting room. She had spent more hours there than she could count.
David had passed by to greet his wife, and he had offered to take Henry with him, on the way back home. So she was left alone with her thoughts.
Mary Margaret peeked out the door with a steaming mug in her hand. “Take this. It will help.”
She agreed with a nod. “Thank you.” She sipped some of the hot liquid and it felt like her nerves were starting to relax a little.
“You should go home and rest. It's late.” The woman said.
“Mary Margaret let me enter.” Emma pleaded for the umpteenth time.
“We have already talked about it. You know I can’t do that. There are strict rules down here, and the best way for us to survive is to follow them.”
“This is insane. I’m not a dangerous criminal or someone who is plotting to destroy this planet. I just want to see him. Please.” She begged.
The dark-haired woman seemed to be pondering all the possible consequences. “All right.” She sighed. “Let’s just say that I’m going inside and leave the door ajar, by mistake, of course. I have to check some very important documents, so I’ll be busy and concentrated. I’m not going to ask you what you’re going to do in the next... fifteen minutes or so. Okay?”
“Thank you.” Emma handed her the cup back, rising from her chair. “You won’t regret it.”
After Mary Margaret disappeared behind the door, Emma waited some minutes before going after her. The room was large and there were many beds, she had no idea where Killian was, but after a quick look at the surroundings, she discovered that only a couple of all the beds were occupied.
She approached one of those and gently opened the curtain trying not to disturb the patient lying inside.
Killian seemed asleep. He was pale, with dark circles under his eyes. She could only imagine the pain he was going through. She had her heart in her throat because she felt responsible for the situation. If they hadn't taken a detour because she had requested it, they'd probably all be home safe and sound by now.
“Hey, beautiful.” He greeted her with a painful grin.
Immersed as she was in her thoughts, she hadn't noticed that he had woken up. She smiled, trying to be strong and not show her inner turmoil. “Do they treat you well here?”
“I'm not complaining. The nurse is kind and the food is edible.” He tried to downplay the situation. “Although I would prefer the care and attention of a certain blonde.” He winked.
Emma chuckled. Then she went closer to him and sat down on the side of his bed, trying not to cause him any more pain. She looked him straight in the eye, and then, gently, she took his hand in hers, intertwining her fingers with his. She saw him swallow hard, and the beeping of his heartbeat accelerated on the monitor. She smiled softly again. “Thank you for saving my son’s life.”
She saw how he wet his lips before answering as if his mouth had been suddenly dry. “It was the right thing to do.” Was his answer, but his voice came out slightly choked.
Emma looked back, checking if any hospital employee was nearby, “I shouldn’t be here, and unfortunately my time is running out. But I wanted to see you... needed to see with my own eyes that you are ok... well, more or less.” She whispered, with her gaze lowered, avoiding eye contact. The physical connection of their joined hands was already arousing too many contradictory emotions inside her.
“Aye. I know the feeling.” He replied, letting her know that he had been eager to establish contact with her throughout his stay in the hospital.
At those words, she stared at him again. “Get well soon.” She bent down and dropped a mild kiss at the corner of his lips. “We need you.”
.
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~·~·~·~
.
.
Killian was lying on his back staring at the ceiling. This time there was no way he would fall asleep again. Every time he thought about what had just happened his beeping monitor sped up. He blushed. It had been just a chaste kiss, nothing compared to the hot and breathtaking one they had shared a few days before. But she had said it had been a one-time thing and he had promised himself not to indulge in those lustful thoughts anymore. Yet, this last kiss had seemed much more real, and meaningful... it had left him with a feeling of hope.
Hope and distress. Emma was such a strong and beautiful woman, a marvelous creature, as he liked to describe her in his mind, and a princess even. And what was he? A rebel, and a scoundrel. Or a rapscallion... whatever. Okay, maybe not anymore, but he had been in the past, for many years. He had been trying to redeem himself lately. But was he worth enough of her? That was the million dollar question.
He was still ruminating on it when the known brunette peeked out the curtains. “Hello. How are you today?” She greeted him with a bright smile, as usual.
“Better.” He hoped the monitor on his right wasn’t showing his state of mind.
She came closer. “Do you mind if I check your ribs? It's time to change the dressing.” After a short pause, she added, “I'm sorry, but we don't have the best equipment to assist our patients. We have to work with what we have available on this planet.” She said pointing to the bands that covered his chest.
Killian nodded, and Mary Margaret started to untie the bandages. She seemed concentrated on her task, probably she was trying to avoid causing him any pain. It was only when she started to apply an ointment on the bruises, that she spoke again. “You love her.” It was just a whisper, and Killian doubted if he had heard correctly. But then she added “Emma.”
It wasn’t a question, and he pondered what was the correct answer, or if she was expecting one. “I'd go to the end of the world for her… Or the multiverse.” He said eventually.
“And she for you, I take it?”
Killian chuckled and shook his head. “I don’t know.”
“What’s the problem?” She looked at him surprised. Then took some clean gauzes and started to wrap them on him.
“She's bloody brilliant, an amazing woman. She fights for her son and always does what’s right.” Killian’s voice was so full of admiration.
“Is there something wrong with it?” Mary Margaret inquired.
Killian shook his head again. “She raised the bar very high. The fact is, I don't think I measure up.”
The woman folded the old bandages and took the ointment bottle, then she stood up, she was making an exit when she stopped short. “Since you came here I've been watching you.”
“I don't know if I should be flattered or scared.” The man tried to ease the tension of the moment.
“We don’t have many foreigners on this planet, but believe me, you're not one of the bad guys. You sacrificed yourself for the sake of a young boy. There's good in your heart.” She smiled at him softly. “I’m going to look for the doctor; I bet you’ll be leaving this room soon.”
.
.
~·~·~·~
.
.
The following day started the same as the previous ones. But during the first hours of the evening a man in a white coat came to visit Killian. He explained the medications and precautions to be taken to him, some movements that he should avoid for a while, and other tips for a speedy recovery. Then he handed over some papers for the patient to sign to be discharged. Finally some good news.
After a while redressing and packing up his few belongings in his satchel Killian went to the door. Walking hurt a bit but nothing he couldn’t bear.
Mary Margaret was already waiting for him, and a tall blonde guy was with her. “You must be Jones.” He said. When they shook hands, Killian learned his name was David Nolan, and he remembered Henry had mentioned him in his conversations. “I’m going to take you to our humble abode.”
Nolan's house was in fact modest. A loft with a large dining room, a kitchenette, a bedroom, and a small bathroom on one corner, all open, without doors, except for the bathroom. There was a raised bedroom opposite it, whose access was a metal stair.
Dinner was good, if a little awkward. Emma didn't interact much, and Killian wanted to ask if something was troubling her, but he preferred to wait for a better time, perhaps a less crowded one. Henry entertained them with what he had done throughout the day and kept repeating how glad he was that Killian was back with them.
But the man was still a bit cautious with those new people around him. He didn’t know them, especially the Nolan guy, who had been silent for most of the dinner, glancing sidelong at him as if he wanted to study him thoroughly before making a personal judgment. The feeling was mutual, Killian thought.
Just after dessert, David started to speak. “What will you need to restore your ship?” He asked.
“Uh… a new stabilizer, I think, and some parts of the propulsion engine for sure. But I’ll have to look closely at the damages to be sure there’s nothing else broken.”
The blond man nodded. “Not many ships come and go from here. But I hope we can find all the pieces you need.”
“Thank you, mate.”
“Tomorrow I’ll take you to the hangar where your ship is. We’ll have a look at it.” He seemed sincere in his generosity.
“May I help?” Henry barged in.
A chorus of “No!” echoed the room.
“I appreciate the support, but it could be dangerous.” Killian explained.
“I hate being here. I feel trapped.” The boy complained.
Mary Margaret sighed. “This is a feeling that will vanish with time.”
The woman was no doubt trying to instill some optimism, but Killian didn't like the idea of staying in that place longer than necessary. “Well, then, let’s hope we could leave this planet before the feeling has entirely vanished.” He made a grin and passed his hand on his side.
“Time for resting.” The brunette stated although it sounded more like an order. “But before that, we should change those bandages. Emma, would you like to help me?”
“Me?” Emma, who had been silent and a bit on the sidelines all evening, seemed to re-emerge from wherever she’d gone.
“He won’t be able to do it by himself when you won’t live here anymore. It’s better if you learn how to help him.” Mary Margaret clarified.
Emma looked like she was going to object, but in the end, she asserted. “Sure.”
.
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~·~·~·~
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.
If a certain nervousness had taken hold of Emma as she climbed to the upstairs room, it disappeared the instant Mary Margaret helped Killian get rid of his shirt. That wasn’t a thorax, it was a nautical chart. Most of it was covered by gauze, but she could still spot many marks and scars.
There was a tattoo, two of them to be exact, but Emma saw just one at first. It was on his right forearm; it was a big red heart with a dagger running through and the name “Milah” across it. Emma made a mental note to ask him later who she was.
Mary Margaret showed her how to unfasten the bandages, and then she ordered her to stand behind him, to help better in removing them all.
On his back, Emma saw the second tattoo, on his right shoulder. It was an old nautical instrument she had read about in a book when she was younger, but she couldn’t remember the exact name. The drawing was beautifully detailed, even if it had faded, it was probably older than the other one, she thought.
And when all the gauze was out of the way, she saw them: tiny, blurred, old scars that studded most of his back. Emma wondered what kind of life he had to endure when he was very young.
Mary Margaret asked her to help with the ointment. She had already opened the bottle and was showing the blonde woman how much cream to use. But Emma wasn't listening, standing now in front of the man, her attention was caught by the glorious chest hair that was covering most of his torso.
Okay, there was also a big, horrible bruise on his right ribs, but Mary Margaret was saying that it seemed on the way to a fast recovery, if the yellow and purple veining was some indication.
Emma was ogling and she wasn’t ashamed of it either. The amount of hair decreased in the lower part of his chest, leaving a black trail that disappeared under the hem of his pants.
"See something you like?" Emma was abruptly taken back to reality by a smug Killian that was smirking at her while arching an eyebrow. She blushed. She was caught red-handed, but she couldn’t let him win. She took advantage of the fact that Mary Margaret was looking for something in a nearby drawer, to get closer to him. She looked at him lasciviously from under her lashes. “Maybe?” She purred.
Now it was his time to blush, he looked intently at his feet, but she found the bright red that appeared on his ears extremely endearing. Point for Emma.
Mary Margaret taught the other woman how to fix the bandages, and Emma had to use some tiny hooks to hold them together. She did not miss the opportunity to casually slide her fingers over a part of his chest hair that came out of the bandages.
“Bloody Hell!” Killian muttered.
Emma retreated her hand immediately. “Sorry. Did I hurt you?” Worries that she had done something wrong clouded her gaze.
“Apologies.” Killian was scratching behind his ear, in evident embarrassment. “While I do enjoy two lovely ladies attending to my needs, I'm not used to someone taking care of me…” He smiled and brought his mouth close to Emma’s ear: “I’m usually the one who devotes full attention to a woman’s needs.” He whispered, but clearly not as quietly as he would have liked, because Mary Margaret's answer - “Well, you will have to put that off for a while” - made him blush again like a schoolboy scolded by his teacher.
.
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~·~·~·~
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.
Suddenly it was bedtime. Everyone was busy making preparations and taking shifts for the bathroom to change for the night. Killian was upstairs, staring at the bed he knew he had to share with Emma, who was arranging a pillow on the nearby sofa. He passed a hand through his hair and then scratched a spot behind his right ear. “I'll crash on that couch.” He stated as if it was the most logical conclusion to a battle he was fighting inside.
“Don't be ridiculous,” she scoffed. “It's barely long enough for Henry. Plus, you’re still recovering, you absolutely need to rest.”
He didn't seem very convinced. “Emma, I'm not sure this is a good idea.”
“And why is that?” Was her exasperated reply, turning towards him with her hands on her hips. “What are you going to do? Seduce me with a couple of broken ribs and a ten-year-old boy sleeping next to us?”
He lifted his arms and surrendered. “Fair point.” He conceded.
In no time they were all ready for the night and Henry was snoring softly on the sofa. Killian was supine, staring at the ceiling and thinking about the events of the day. In any case, sleep had no intention of coming, but he tried not to move. He didn’t want to wake up his roommates. Emma was lying close with her back to him and he didn’t know if she was already in the arms of Morpheus.
He turned his head to observe how her upper body moved with the rhythm of her breathing, blond curls covering her shoulders. Killian had to repress the urge to touch them. And as if responding to his call, she stirred and turned to face him.
Her eyes opened lazily. “Still awake?” She murmured.
“I have the feeling that I’ve slept enough for the rest of my life.” He whispered. “But you can’t rest either, I see.”
She didn’t answer.
Perhaps it was the closeness, perhaps it was the fact that they had spent the last few days apart. Killian didn't know how he found the courage, but he lifted his left arm as an invitation. “Come here,” he said.
She seemed to ponder the situation, chewing her bottom lip. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
He decided not to think about all the possible implications of that sentence. He was falling in love with her, he was aware of it. Probably the simple doubt that she might not reciprocate was already hurting him, but he knew that at that moment she was referring only to his physical bruises. “You won’t.”
She slipped under the sheets towards him, resting her head gently on his left shoulder and placing a hand on his chest, avoiding the bruised part. Not many minutes passed before her lids grew heavy and she dozed off to the rhythm of his heartbeats. Killian placed a soft kiss on her forehead.
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ratingflavourtext · 2 years
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Storytime: A New Series
Hello! It's been a while. Sorry about that. You may not remember me if this is popping up in your feed, or this may be the first time you've seen me, but I rate flavor text on Magic the Gathering cards. Or I did until I took a somewhat impromptu hiatus.
I wanted to keep blogging, but I felt like I didn't have a way to make the content I was making different from day today. Reviews are fun, but I feel like I need a variety of potential content wells that will keep me from doing the same thing every time. I want to make this blog more regular.
I may change my name, as I am broadening my scope a bit. But I will keep reviewing magic cards. In fact, I plan on doing a proper spoiler season flavor review.
I wrestled with the problem of what I actually wanted to write about, and then it hit me: The entire reason I got into this was stories. Not the big overarching narratives, but the little things. The smaller-scale stories in bigger ones. There's something about being able to move people with recognizable characters, but there's something else about the smaller stories of people we usually never see again.
I may broaden this a tad. I have a list of prospective characters and narratives and not all of them are as small as the first one I have in mind. But I think it's best I have at least some wiggle room. With that said, I want to be talking about things that aren't talked to death, so I'm going to stray away from the main characters of a thing and the really obvious side stories. This does mean I won't be able to talk about Heart of Ice from Batman the Animated Series, but we all make grave sacrifices.
As for what I'll actually be doing, I'll be explaining the story in question. Then I'll do some analysis into what techniques are being used to convey the story in the confines of the medium. Then I'll be talking about my own personal reaction to the story. Then finally I'll have a wildcard section for any thoughts or facts I have that don't fit under the other headings.
Generally, I'll be picking mini-stories I had some sort of personal reaction to, but I am interested in getting requests. I will be very selective, just because I have to actually play, watch, read or otherwise find some way to contextualize the thing this mini story is within, but I'll try my best to use this as an opportunity to experience new media.
I'll be doing this weekly, with my flavor text rating series being biweekly. I will be a bit experimental when it comes to what days of the week those come out on specifically. Also, my spoiler reviews may be more like daily.
Also, I am aware that I don't need to formally announce a format alteration like this, given that this is the online equivalent of a journal that a few people occasionally steal from my room to read and I pretend not to notice, but this is for me as much as the people who read these. I usually need things organized into a coherent order.
Anyway, I'm really excited to get started! I'll have my first Storytime done tomorrow. If you're still confused as to what's going on, wait until then and things should be a lot clearer.*
*Note that tomorrow is a very relative term for me. It may be 3am on the 21st, but is it really the 21st if I haven't gone to bed yet?
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freddieslater · 4 years
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Rowing the Rarepair Rowboat: Enzo St. John x Maria DeLuca | Michael Quinn x Maggie James
Glancing up at the flashing neon sign above, Enzo doubts himself. Those damn travellers were so cryptic before they decided to spontaneously combust. The only thing they left behind was a note to him.
Find her. Roswell, New Mexico. Wild Pony.
For years, the thought of finding Maggie once he was finally free--because he was sure he would be, someday, somehow--was one of the only things that kept him going through it all. To thank her. To see that she got the life she deserved; a life full of love and happiness. A human life.
But a bar? She wanted to help people. He takes another quick look at the note, but sure enough, the sign reads the same name beneath the flashing image of a cowboy riding a horse.
Stuffing the slip of paper back into his jacket pocket, he shuts his car door and walks across the gravel to the entrance. He pulls the door open and steps inside.
The room's lit with soft lights, almost dim, just enough to feel welcoming. Chatter from the locals fills the air, a chuckle here or there from the tables. The quiet clatter of a pool cue hitting a ball over to his left, followed by a triumphant cheer and some lighthearted arguing.
He immediately decides that it's preferable over the Grill. Though perhaps that's because he's still unfamiliar here. Make a few enemies, specifically out of the bartender, and then it'll probably feel the same.
Not moving from the doorway, his eyes dart all across the room. They sweep from left to right, to right to left, taking in every face. None belonging to an elderly lady.
Disappointment sweeps through him briefly. Probably for the best, he thinks as the loud-mouthed rednecks at the pool table spout some distasteful language.
Ignoring them, he finally moves, making his way up to the back of the bar. Maybe the travellers sent him here to find one of her relatives, perhaps her child. Though he has no idea if he'd even recognize Maggie now, never mind a descendant of hers.
But when he reaches the bar and seeks out someone who'll be able to give him something to ease his frustrations, he stops dead. Proven wrong, it would seem, because he instantly recognizes the woman behind the bar, caught in the middle of a playful conversation with a rather tipsy man on a stool.
Except it's impossible. Not a feature has changed. She looks as young as the day he compelled her to forget him and walk out without ever looking back. Those dark eyes, so soft yet filled with life like a blazing match. The curve of her lips, that smile that filled his mind to replace the darkness everytime he closed his eyes.
It isn't possible. The only way...
His heart drops. He can't even stomach the thought. Compelling Maggie was meant to protect her, to keep her as far away from his world as possible. Unless she found another vampire more willing to turn her without knowing.
No. He refuses to believe that. But the proof is right there, undeniable. A relative, he tells himself. A daughter with an uncanny resemblance to her mother.
She notices him at last, her eyes flicking over to him. Straightening up and abandoning ber conversation in the process, she shoots him a warm, friendly smile that makes his throat close up.
"All right there?" she asks with a slight chuckle, eyeing him. "You look lost. Or like you've seen a ghost. Neither one uncommon here, surprisingly."
Enzo doesn't know what to say. He realizes she doesn't recognize him. Nothing in her expression or her eyes tells him she has the faintest idea who he is. Of course not, he chides himself. Because she's not Maggie.
"New in town, I take it?" she continues on anyway, apparently unbothered by his lack of response. "I know all of the local's faces; I should, considering I've lived here my whole life."
Something comes loose in his chest. Her whole life. Maggie wasn't from Roswell. There's a sinking feeling inside of him that he can't ignore no matter how he tries.
"Your whole life?" he hears himself ask faintly, forcing an interested smile onto his face. "Must really like this town."
The woman shrugs. "It's my home. But" --she leans both hands on the bar, grinning at him now with that same spark in her eyes-- "with an accent like that, I can see I was right in saying it's not yours."
Enzo huffs out a chuckle and nods. "You caught me. I've visited before, though. Couple times, long time ago."
Her eyebrows furrow the tiniest bit and her head tilts in curiosity as she stares at him. He can see her trying to recall him.
"Weird," she says after a beat. "I feel like there's no way I would forget someone like you..."
She trails off somewhat pointedly, expecting an introduction. He opens his mouth to give it despite his better judgment, but she beats him to it, holding a hand up to stop him.
"Wait, hold on, I'm psychic. Let me take a shot at this."
Her eyes are wide and excited, and he can barely bring himself to be fazed by the claim of being psychic. There's a snort from down the bar from the man she'd been talking to.
She rolls her eyes but otherwise ignores him, her attention fixated on Enzo. Keeping their gazes locked, her eyes narrow. It's taking everything in him not to give anything away. If she's really psychic, somehow, then that won't be a problem.
"I think that... your name is... Michael." As soon as the name falls from her lips, there's a guffaw from her friend and she groans. "Oh, tell me I'm wrong."
But Enzo's heart has stopped again. Michael was the name he had on his file when she was working at Augustine. Dr. Whitmore had taken him from the Air Force, while he was still under his alias of Captain Michael Quinn. It's what Maggie knew him as him until he confessed his real name a few months before she left.
"Just can't get me off your mind, can you, DeLuca?" her friend says, evidently enjoying himself a great deal. He turns to Enzo. "I'm Michael, by the way. The person that the lovely Maria here claims to despise, and yet..."
He waves a hand as if providing all the evidence he needs to make his point. Maybe that's it, Enzo thinks, and his mind catches the name this Michael uses. Maria. Not Maggie. Similar but not the same. Maria DeLuca, by the sounds of it. Not James.
Maria scoffs and aims the towel in her hand at Michael, who merely laughs and dodges the blow of it.
"Ignore him," she tells Enzo, turning back to him.
He laughs it off as well. "That's okay. Maria, was it?"
She nods, her lips pressing together in a smile again. "That's right, mysterious stranger whose name is definitely not Michael. Sorry about that. Sometimes I'm right, sometimes I'm wrong. It happens."
Part of him is tempted to tell her she's not wrong. After all, he was Michael for over ten years. Who's to say that means it isn't still part of his identity?
"Well, it is my middle name, so not entirely wrong," he decides to say. "I'm Lorenzo. People usually just call me Enzo."
Maria's face lights up, her smile brightening. "Middle name is good enough for me. And it's nice to meet you, Enzo. So, what can I get for you?"
"Er, just a bourbon, please."
He hesitates, then takes a seat on one of the stools. His eyes stay glued to her as she pours him a bourbon. How is this even possible?
Doppelgangers exist. He knows that far too well from his brief time in Mystic Falls, but that was a curse. Maggie was never in the middle of some two-thousand-year-old love affair involving vengeful travellers. As far as he's aware.
Maria sets the glass down in front of him. He thanks her and slides the money over before taking a long drink. At this rate, he's going to need a lot more than one glass.
"So, Enzo," Maria says, and pain spikes through his heart at hearing that same voice say his name again after all these years. "What brings you to our lovely but ultimately boring little town? Is it the aliens?"
He can't help but laugh at that. Once upon a time, it was in fact the aliens that brought him here.
"No, no, though I wouldn't mind seeing a few," he jokes, and is pleased when she laughs, too. He then sighs. "But I'm looking for someone. A woman I used to know. We... lost touch for a while."
Maria frowns. "Oh. Well, what's her name? Like I said, I know everyone in this town. If she's been here, I'll remember."
He stares at her for a moment. I'll remember. Something about the way she says it sends a shiver through him.
"Maggie James," he says before he can process he's doing it. "Her name's Maggie James."
For the briefest flicker of a moment after he says it, he admittedly expects recognition to flash across her face and for her to say that's her mother's name. Or an auntie. Someone in her family, something to explain this, because he can't think of a single logical explanation otherwise.
But her eyes stay blank and distant, still frowning. Then he notices that her frown has actually deepened. More thought than required for remembering a name of a stranger you met once or twice. And the blank look in her eyes is too blank, like they've glazed over, completely detached from reality.
Enzo's heartbeat quickens. Her expression twitches. It's a tiny movement, invisible to the human eye. But he catches it, and everything crashes down inside of him. It's the look of someone trying to unearth a memory buried beneath layers of compulsion. Just below the surface but forever unreachable.
Then she blinks, and it's as if she's thrust back into her body. She straightens up a little too quickly, her eyes wide and dazed. But alert. And lost.
"Nope," she says, and shakes her head, reverting back to her casual composure from before. "Sorry. Doesn't ring any bells."
He can hear the lie in her voice. Feel it from her. It did ring a bell, just one she couldn't quite hear. Muffled by his own doing. Or something else, he just wouldn't know what. It can't just be his compulsion. It doesn't explain why she'd still be this young, why she has a completely different identity and life. None of it makes sense.
"Don't worry about it," he tells her, plastering on another careful smile. "I'm sure I'll find her."
He doesn't know why, but it feels like the truth. Something tells him he won't have to look far. It's just more complicated now, is all. But when has he not loved a few complications here and there? They're what make things interesting.
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pangolin-404 · 4 years
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Delving into what chapter 2 of Bendy: Rewritten (or just the side scroller AU, as a couple people have called it- still working on a vaguely clever name hh) would be like, where there are choices and reactions! More canon divergence! Things set up and hinted at!
The background music changes. No shame to batim's music, I quite like it, but it can be better. Whenever Sammy's around (carrying the cutout, looking over the band room, giving his ritual spiel) a banjo is added to the bg track. The followers get string instruments, more added depending how many are in the room. The sacrifice room is mainly string instruments
Sammy is somewhat a lost one. He loses his buff rights and is a mix of his pre- and post-update designs. I say somewhat because, while he is skeletal, he drips a lot and doesn't really have feet.
Sammy actually has followers. It can be pieced together from notes and dialogue that he split from the Lost Harbor after a close run in with Bendy permanently mangled his body and converted him to worship. He brought a few other lost ones with him (like, only a dozen but a couple died on the way). They wear Bendy masks, too, yet he's the only one wearing pants (mostly to hold his legs together). He also wears gloves to hold his fingers together, and only takes them off for brief periods to play an instrument before having to put them back on. Bendy left him with a lot of lasting damage
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They all look the same and they know it hh
He's a proper prophet figure now that people look up to him. If Henry can find them huddled around a statue in prayer or drawing a ritual circle, they will talk about how much hope he gives them and how kind he is, despite how strict or overly optimistic he can be at times.
The followers' opinion of Henry changes with his behavior. Suggest Sammy is nuts? Say Bendy is evil? Drink too much soup? Break cutouts? They don't like that. Ask to learn more, give them some fresh soup, maybe even draw Bendy for them if Henry comes across fresh paper, and they'll appreciate it.
The cutouts are decorated with soup and candles. Drink a couple cans and the followers won't notice, drink more and they'll be upset, drink them all and they'll get concerned. Ink rats will scuttle out of hiding and can be found licking the empty cans.
Oh yeah you think humans were the only thing the ink affected? No there are ink rats and they scuttle around. Sometimes they become an enemy if multiple melt/fuse together and it's just a Lump Of Rat
"Did you drink the soup?" "No, did you?" "We don't have mouths! We can't eat!" "Who drank all the soup then?" "I don't know, but now there are rats everywhere!"
The whole chapter 2 area is bigger, kind of. Lots more signs of being lived in, with offices turned into little bedrooms and such. The followers are shy, though, and lurk behind locked doors, so finding them is tricky. Signs of life are everywhere but finding the life itself is difficult. Finding ones that talk more than a sentence is even harder.
Sammy is unhinged. Well-meaning, but ultimately mentally...cracked. He claims to have visions he interprets, but it's ambiguous whether they're nightmares/dreams or if Bendy's messing with him. He genuinely believes that Bendy will set them free, and he wants the best for his sheep. He'd be amicable if he wasn't trying to sacrifice Henry.
Instead of pressing the switches to open that first door, Henry had to find a pipe valve. A new "mechanic" of sorts is draining flooded halls. Ink pours down from piped above in an unpassable wall, and one or two valve are needed to shut it off completely.
Remember those notes I mentioned earlier? Well, some found around the music department contain buckets of how the followers see Sammy and their situation in general. They range from "oh hey here's Sammy's favorite tune-" to "note: don't play the organ! D:"
It's possible to find old newspapers and comics. Some of the pictures have been carefully cut out and pasted on the walls in various memorials, ranging from Bendy letting them outside to Sammy being "blessed" by the Ink Demon.
Some of the more petty depictions paint Alice as a jerk. She's an angel, he's a demon, so they're opposites. Since Bendy's so great, she must be awful! Rumors of a cruel Alice in deeper levels are hinted at.
The band room is slightly different. The projector's bulb is burst and there's a sticky note on it saying something about how touching it when you're made of ink is a bad idea, and to fix the projector before Sammy notices. Henry has to find a lightbulb and fix it now before he can turn it on.
The fight after opening the sanctuary affects the followers' opinions. They begin to realize what Sammy has in store for Henry. Killing all the searchers make them either makes them wince or frustrated, depending on their view on him up til that point.
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I feel like you could probably click/interact with the banister to look over and it shows a still image of the band room below, and it shows whether or not the projector is fixed/playing and also shows any Bendy cutouts that pop up. I tried to draw that but couldn't get the angle I wanted, so
Sammy's sanctuary is like...just a big ol Bendy shrine. It's also where he sleeps, writes songs to Bendy, and where his banjo is kept. He has a Bendy plush on his bed
The further the chapter goes on, the quieter the followers are to Henry. They're gathering candles and offerings of personal belongings. They might be bittersweet, neutral, or glad to be away from him, depending on Henry's actions.
Jack is important to Sammy. They worked closely together and so they somewhat remember each other. He acts as Sammy's personal treasurer and doesn't let go of anything given to him. The first encounter with Jack is relatively the same, with needing to grab a valve from him. However, instead of holding the valve, it's sitting on the box
Henry's notes in his sketchbook also change depending on his interactions with things. If he annoys the followers and develops a bad relationship with them, he'll treat them like blind fools. If he helps them or is generally nice, he'll sound more sympathetic towards their situation and wish them well.
One is in the infirmary, badly hurt, missing a leg, practically a searcher, and delusional after getting just grazed by Bendy's aura. They believe they've been blessed by his presence, despite falling apart more and more by the hour (Bendy and any ink creature do not go together-). Henry can kill them and put them out of their misery, if he so chooses. The others won't like that.
Whether Henry kills him or not, Jack remembers. Getting items from him in the future becomes harder if he's killed multiple times, until eventually he's downright scared (I'll delve into more detail on the mess that is chapter 3). Befriending him completely later in chapter 3, on the other hand, will make the task easier.
Killing Jack triggers a horror vision. Henry briefly becomes unable to move, visibly distressed and looking around until the vision ends.
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Not necessarily the sewers you first encounter him in, but close enough. You know you've entered an area Jack's in if there's a random item on a box that's under a light in an otherwise dim ink-flooded room
He goes through 'stages.' First the valve is on a box. Henry tries to grab it, but Jack (moving through the ink) pushes the box away. The methods of dealing with him is a messy web of cause-and-effect, with chances to crush him, corner the box slowly and steal the valve, it rush at it and cause it to slide off, or snatch his hat and bargain. (It's possible to steal his hat, kill him, and then keep/wear his hat, but why would you do that? Jack would forever loathe Henry and later on Sammy may ask for it back)
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Nothing will stop Sammy from knocking Henry out. No matter how kind or cruel Henry is to his followers, Sammy will smack him over the head with a dustpan. He can't run, but the man can be sneaky if he wants to be, lurking through shadows and phasing in and out of the ritual portals.
(Clarification: because it would be a side scroller and the player could see Sammy sneaking up on Henry, instead there's a ritual circle on the wall that he'll jump out of when Henry walks past it.)
The sacrifice room is more of a hallway. The followers are all watching from the sidelines, peering through knocked out walls and over makeshift fenceposts. Candles and other offerings are around Henry. Sammy gives his spiel as always, first starting with a quiet "that face..." whispered mostly to himself but then using his Big Loud Musician Prophet voice to put on a show about how grand the sacrifice will be and how happy Bendy will be. The followers get excited for it.
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Messy rendition but you get the picture
Sammy enters the room off to the side and calls for the Ink Demon. Ink leaks from the vents, and his aura is making some of the followers unsteady/weak. They become more restless, and unstable, until the calling reaches its climax (Sammy also sounds out of breath and his voice becomes wet and labored) and Bendy arrives out of sight. Sammy is torn apart, as per usual, though it's a slower, more audible mauling, and drags on through Henry's escape.
Some followers flee into the ink, while one or two are liquidated just by Bendy's aura. Others panic and attack Henry when he breaks free, messed up by Bendy's aura and so they resemble searchers.
Whether or not Henry powers through the onslaught or axes the frenzied followers may alter the number of followers he encounters later on, and (combined with how he'd treated them) how they react to seeing him again. "Oh I kind of remember you" vs "I don't blame you for using the axe" vs "Did you slaughter your way down here, too?"
Like in the updated chapters in game, the you can see ink machine lowering past crates/wood boards
Bendy actually pries himself up out of the ink with effort. Like, hands planted on the ground, lurching up, ink sloughing off of him, generally more detailed for a 2D animation.
Boris time! The boy himself peeks out from behind a wall before stepping out of the shadows
Feel free to send an ask for clarification/more detail about anything- I'm happy to go on more tangents!
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yaboylevi · 4 years
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Thanks for replying!! When a new chapter comes out, I always make sure to read your thoughts! If you don't mind, I'll probably keep coming with my asks :) I really just need to vent to someone who shares my frustration with what the story has become, seems like you're the only one. It just feels like there's no characters anymore, only plot devices. Of course you can ignore them and not answer them, don't really want to force you to talk about something you don't enjoy that much anymore :)
Hi!!
I read all of it, dw. I’ll be posting your other messages under the cut, for convenience. But trust me, I’m not the only one fed up with the story and annoyed by how the characters have been made to act. I honestly see more disappointment than anything else, maybe because now that it’s confirmed there are so few chapters left, all the people who were hoping for “more” for their favorite characters have realized they probably won’t get what was promised them by the author. I also don’t follow all the snk fanboys and fangirls, so there’s that. The “ISAYAMA GOAT” people, lol.
In any case, you must have missed my venting phase that lasted like a couple of years, but in 2020 I am really officially done. I’ll rant a bit when a chapter comes out, but otherwise, I don’t think about snk much to the point of getting worked up (mostly) XD If you search a bit, you’ll find some blogs who are still in the venting phase ahah
“Regarding your reply: yes I had thought the same about a possible connection with nature through paths, I'm /strangely) positively curious about what it implies. About the Dina situation: I honestly don't know what to think, I absolutely agree with you that it wouldn't make sense for Eren to kill his mother, but Isayama is ridiculously keen on the "Eren bad, Warriors good" lately, that I wouldn't be surprised if he pulled something like that :/ It would just further ruin the story though... (1)“
BIG AGREE ahah that’s one of the reasons why I don’t feel attached to snk anymore. It’s just stupid at this point, how everyone gets excused, even fucking Magath, except Eren. Yeah I wouldn’t be surprised either.
(2) But then I thought about it a little bit more and I've come up with a theory to give me a little bit of hope: I realized that Carla was already "dead", she was stuck under the rubble with her legs crushed. So maybe, just maybe, Eren controlled Dina to give her a swift and relatively painless death? If you think about it, Dina killed her before eating her, which is pretty strange considering other mindless titans usually eat their victims alive. I don't know, I'm just trying to come up (3)
You just filled me with dread. If that were the case, it would be so fucking sad and messed up for Eren to have to make that choice...jesus...
(4) with something that wouldn't make Eren a completely psycopathic monster. I don't know why he is going this way with his character. Making him even more evil and corrupted is not going to make me like the "hero" characters more, but just everyone and the story less. He's ruined them too much already, it's clear to me there just devices to push the plot forward to where he wants. I don't care who dies or survives. the only thing I'm curious about is the last plot twist and what the finale (5)
Big mood.
(6) he envisioned since the start is. It's too bad I feel like he's done with the manga and rushing the hell through it, but there's nothing to be done about it. Of course I'll just have to wait for it to actually end to properly judge it, but if I could name the final arc I would say: Wasted Potential, or, alternatively, Attack on Titan: the Parody. :D I won't bother you anymore for a while, sorry for the wall of text XD I really needed it XD
Yeah, I really felt like you needed it ahah. “Wasted Potential” made me smile! I agree with you about everything. It’s just...it could’ve been so much more than this. In one interview he said he wanted to showcase how a murderer is made, that anyone could become one, something like that. If this is the only thing he’s striving for, with Eren’s character I mean, then...I don’t know...It feels forced. I saw more than one person say that we are still missing a big moment that made Eren tip into this murderous abyss, and I agree. What we have seen until now is just NOT ENOUGH to make this shit believable. And when it comes to the characters’ decisions, Isayama has always striven for realistic - because the unrealistic things are the titans, not the complexity of humanity. He’s just lost the whole touch of the story if this is it for Eren, imo. 
Omg I'm so sorry for the vent! You're right of course, we should focus on the things we like. I don't know why I did it, I usually don't do stuff like this! It's just that finally I had found someone that didn't wear rose tinted glasses regarding snk, couldn't believe it! Everyone keeps going on how a masterpiece it is and I'm like, really? XD It doesn't even hurt me at all, I just find myself laughing when reading new chapters. Anyway sorry, won't do it again :D
My exasperation wasn’t about you, honestly ahah Just people sending me stuff that I have repeatedly said I didn’t wanna talk about + usual people sending me “the manga is so bad” asks which I mean, I agree but. Every month is the same song and I have nothing to add to it, and I wanna keep my blog a bit cleaner. Idk. Weird mood.
Anyway, thanks for this discussion! I also laughed a bunch of times the past few chapters cause I cannot for the life of me take the “heroes”’ struggles seriously. Though mostly I sneer at them. Oops.
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Teen Romance Logicality // Part 10
Taglist: @loveyatothemoonandback @datoneidiot @doepuffsss @katie-the-noble-fangirl @awkwardcat @sanders-sides-love-astronomy @lallyphant @procrastinatingnerd @i-need-you-buddy
Parts One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, and Nine.
Ahhh I can't believe this is it!!
(Other than a few planned things. *cough* Prinxiety and maybe future stuff *cough*)
Enjoy my teen boys one last time...maybe. (This is the end of this series but not this universe.)
Thank you for reading this series!!
~ ~ ~
Logan couldn't believe it, today was his last day as a highschooler. This was the last time he'd roam those halls with his best friend, last time he'd prove his History teacher wrong, last time he'd sneak a call to Patton in the bathrooms...
Logan was hardly ready, as he stared at his suit laid completely in the center of his perfectly-made bed, and remembered every single thing that he could.
Maybe it was so he wouldn't have to face it, or maybe it was so he didn't forget it on his journey of life.
So he didn't forget all that had brought him here, Logan's eyes steadied on the pride flag stretched just above his bed and felt apart of him just... sigh.
There was a point in his life that he was afraid of that, afraid of who he was and how it would affect his life. Yet, he sat here; his identity flaunted and more in love than he could ever even imagine.
His heart skipped a beat, as his eyes fogged up without a beat of hesitation.
He used to be so afraid of feelings of so much vulnerability and heartbreak, that he tore his heart away from anything it had latched onto. Except, one.
Except Patton.
Logan's heart swelled, as he smiled a wide broad smile, just thinking about him. About everything Patton had been there for, helped him with, and just how much he had learned from him.
Logan didn't even know how much he didn't know until he met Patton, and began to love him on a level he never even knew he was capable of.
Sure, they were teenagers but Logan felt like he had known him for three decades, and couldn't imagine living without him.
To be fair though, Patton hadn't been the only one to shape him.
His eyes shifted to a Pride picture sat just by his bedside, with Roman in a rainbow crown and himself with a flag draped across the back of his shoulders.
Roman had done so much for him, and although he was incredibly annoying, he was heaven-sent.
Roman had been there for an stubborn, arrogant boy when he was at his worst, and helped him accept himself despite never wanting to.
He, oddly, owed his life to Roman. And hoped whoever he ended up with would be worth such an egotistical but loyal prince, otherwise, Logan would destroy them.
Logan didn't wipe away the tears when they sunk down his cheeks, as he picked up the picture frames just by his bed: one of a familiar boy with a bunny and one of Roman giving him a "makeover" when they were younger.
He could feel the tears well up in his eyes, quietly and considerately, and for one of the first times Logan felt in his life, they deserved to fall.
Everything was about to change, Logan found his eyes falling on the robe and cap hanging up on his closet wall, and he couldn't stop it.
With a sigh, he stood and tried to focus, as well as wiped away his blood-red eyes. Remembering distantly Roman's advice with a small smile, "You're a god, teach; all you've gotta learn is how to care for yourself."
A chuckle and his door was opening, his Mom was grinning with teary eyes that Logan had expected, but hadn't had the guts to imagine.
He now knew why.
Her hair was neat --contrary to her usually messy, tossed look--, and her eyes were gleaming with a sense of sadness and... pride.
Logan swallowed that sob that wished to echo out of his mouth, because she was proud of him and that's truly all he had ever wanted.
"I-" his Mom began with a guilty tone, but her eyes stayed locked on her son.
"Mom-" Logan spoke, words tumbling, "-you don't have t-"
His Mom shook her head, a smile that gleamed under the swift glance of teary eyes, "Oh, but I want too."
"Logan," she shook her head, running a gentle hand down her face, "-I know, I know I don't say it enough. But I love you, and I'm so, so proud of you. For everything, okay? You should know that, I should've told you that mor-"
"Mom-" Logan hummed, wrapping her in a hug that filled a hole in his heart, "-it's okay. You said it now, and that's all that matters. I know."
His Mom wrapped her smaller frame around him, she was gentle but he knew this had meant the world to her. He could tell in the way her grip tightened on him for a split second, like she was holding him as tight as she could, just in case she couldn't again.
"You," she spoke into the air behind him, "You should be whatever you want, Logan. You always should have that choice. I... I never meant to take it from you."
Logan spoke, for what felt like the 10th time that day, "Mom-"
"No," his Mom smiled, pulling back and holding his hands in a quiet moment, "-no, you- You should go with Patton. He makes you happy, I can tell. You deserve to be happy, Logan Alexander."
Logan was quiet, unable to say what exactly he had felt in that moment. It was a complicated slosh of feelings that he didn't exactly know how to... communicate, and found that the silence spoke a lot more than he could say outloud.
"You have to promise me that you'll be happy."
"I-" Logan choked back a sob, tears rolling quietly down his cheeks, "I promise Mom, Patton makes me really happy. He couldn't hurt anything that was relatively harmless."
His Mom smirked, pinching his cheek, "Oh, Logan. I'm so proud of who you've become, Patton is one lucky, lucky boy."
Logan sniffled, "Thank you, I- I don't know what to say."
"Hmm, maybe. This is just a thought-" his Mom rambled with a teasing tone, "-'Mom, I'll invite you to the wedding?'"
Logan rolled his eyes, wiping off his clouded glasses, "You had to ruin it, Mom? Really?"
She smiled, "Anything to get you to stop crying, Logan. Now, looks like you've got a suit to put on, no?"
He grinned, his heart lifted and so full that Logan was honestly surprised he wasn't levitating at how much he felt like it.
This day truly couldn't get any better.
◇◇◇
Logan's knee was bouncing, he sat just behind a girl named... Stephanie? He thought so anyway, she was confident and incredibly nice.
He would... never see her again.
He'd never seen a lot of people again, that was apart of this moment. His hands were clammy with a stack of index cards practically being squeezed to death in his right hand; of course, he was valedictorian.
Who else would be?
So, he had a speech prepped and ready to launch when he was called upon. He was scared, but a good kind of scared (he cursed himself for a vocabulary change), and he couldn't not say he wasn't practically dancing on his toes at the fact that he would Patton would physically be in his presence soon.
He didn't need to think about that right now, he had to focus-
"-our valedictorian, Logan Reilly!"
Logan's eyes went wide, just for a second as he swallowed down the fear and stood with as straight as his posture would allow.
He cleared his throat, his cards set just onto the podium in front of him; as he quietly wrung out his hands an effective way to calm his stuttering nerves.
"I'd like- I'd like to say that this will be easy-" Logan spoke, careful and pristine with every ounce of confidence in his tone, "-but I'm sure, we all know it won't be. And you all know, I don't like liars-"
A falsehood echoed somewhere in the crowd, a memory of something that had defined him in this school. It was... nice.
"So," Logan chuckled, "-I think we can all agree that it's hard, it is difficult to say goodbye to this. To these walls and these teachers that we are so ever familiar with."
"Even if it wasn't pleasant," Logan added, "-it's hard to deal with change. To label this chapter of our stories with 'The End', and to comprehend the next steps in our lives. Because afterall, we're just human."
"Today, however-" Logan transitioned, "-I don't propose an end to you, nor do I propose a clichéd entirely new beginning. I say just keep going, this is just a new layer of your life. Things will change, of course, it is inevitable. But it will only truly affect you, if you allow it do so."
Logan paused, beginning steadily, "This is your life, and whether you want to be a doctor, lawyer, or a professional heartbreaker --it is of no importance--, because you control it. You live how you want to. What would I recommend?"
"Well," Logan tapped his chin, "-take those who you love-"
His eyes searched for his Mom within the crowd, finding her bright smile in a sea of faces; she sat just beside a familiar fa-
Logan froze, squinting for a second, as his heart halted in his chest; warm curls, round glasses and the shiniest blue eyes he had ever seen.
Holy-
For a second, Logan forgot how to breath and where he was because the love of his life was in the crowd-
He cleared his throat, trying to regain himself and cage his ever bursting heart in his ribcage, plus restrain himself from running from the stage at that exact second.
He wasn't even graduated yet, that was too improbab-
"T-Take," Logan began again, "-Take those who you love and choose your journey, choose where you wish to go. It's truly your decision whether or not this is an ending, or just another step up the staircase of life. Thank you for the memories, I'm glad I graduated with you all."
There was a roaring applause that Logan felt a surge of pride for, but all he could think about was the fact that he had actually seen Patton with his actual two eyes.
He was real, he was here.
He was breathing the same air as him; he was so close to him, closer than he's ever been. Logan could touch him, potentially.
With a racing heart, Logan made his way back to his seat with a bouncing leg but this time for a different reason, that Logan believed was immensely better.
Getting his diploma felt unreal, he was lined up meticulously and he had seen this through a metaphorical lens, he could've sworn that it wasn't real.
That he was enraptured in a fantasy world, but he had to remind himself he wasn't Roman. Everything was real, he was... graduating.
"With the highest honors, Logan Reilly."
Accepting his diploma with a brief handshake and bright smile, Logan swore he couldn't feel more unreal.
This was a new page in a book he was... excited to read.
◇◇◇
The rest of the graduation ceremony was quick, all Logan could think about was who was up in the stands. Who he had loved but never even seen with his true bare eyes.
But, he controlled himself. He stayed on the bottom floor because that was what his Mom had planned earlier, and Logan wasn't one to break plans. So he sat there, practically bouncing as his eyes flashed to the bleachers and back to the crowd, anything to tip him off would make him start sprinting at this point.
"Hey-" Roman spoke, causing Logan to jump and almost fall over himself, "-Nerd Alert, you look a little, dare I say it, distracted? Everything... alright?"
Logan paused, looking at his best friend, "Yes, yes. Roman, I'm perfectly fine. It seems there is an extra visitor, that I have come unprep-"
Roman burst, "Patton's here! HOLY SH-"
"Woah, Roman-" Logan laughed lightly, "-we are still on school grounds."
"True, true," Roman hummed, he was visibly bouncing, up and down and up and down.
Logan was practically frantic, as he rambled, "I'm actually remarkably nervous, which is quite unusual. I just, I want him to like me, you know?"
"Oh Logan," Roman stood on his tippy toes to see over heads, "-Patton loves you, nothing is ever going to change that."
Logan glanced at Roman, his gaze sweeping slowly back to the crowd, "I know, it's an odd fee-"
Logan's words halted on his lips, his eyes locking with a head of such fluffy curls and the brightest pair of eyes he'd ever seen.
And suddenly he was broken, his eyes locking on him like he couldn't move, like he barely even registered that there he was: Patton was right there.
Logan could scream.
Patton wasn't looking at him though, he was leading his purple-haired friend --who he assumed was Virgil-- through the hectic crowd, with a caring and gentle touch.
Logan truly didn't know how to react, should he start running? Should he call out to him? Make noise? What was the proper way to make him see m-
Virgil's dark brown eyes widened as they landed on him, a grin bashfully making it onto his lips and Logan could see him sputter to Patton. He could see the struggle of trying to explain it, until the surprisingly tall anxious boy just groaned and pointed behind him.
Logan lost it, when Patton slowly turned around and for the first time, Patton's light blue wonders of eyes locked onto his. His heart skipping in his chest, before Logan could even blink Patton had dropped Virgil's wrist with a quick thump, and began running through the crowd to him.
Logan's heart was racing in his ears, as he grinned as bright as a beam of light, and made his way to him through the crowds too.
Step, keep moving, he had to keep reminding himself, ignoring the feeling that was quite vividly tearing his stomach out. He just had to focus on Patton's curls, curls that Logan could feel with his fingertips-
And then, the two found a clear pathway, a section open for just the two of them like a runway for a plane. Before Logan could move an inch though, Patton was already sprinting toward him.
And he was oddly fast, very very fast.
So Logan found himself waiting, until Patton crashed directly into his arms and Logan caught him and spun him around to disperse the force. (Totally not for dramatic effect.)
He was touching Patton, Patton was literally right in front of him and he could feel him breath and his chest move with his laugh.
Logan pulled him close to his chest with a single movement, as Patton dug his head into his neck and wrapped his legs just around Logan's torso.
It felt so right, as he breathed in his distant scent of strawberries, felt his curls against his face.
God, he was real.
He was so real, and warm and lovely. How was this happening? Was it all a dream? It had to be a dream right? It has to b-
Patton pulled back, interrupting his thoughts, and Logan was so close he could see the lightest bit of freckles scattered along his cheeks. He was remarkably beautiful.
Just until Logan noticed that he was crying, tears were slowly making their way down his cheeks and Logan immediately panicked.
He put him down, crouching slightly to match his height, and it was then he realized he could touch him, there was no screen.
Logan's thumbs were quick, wiping away the flood pouring from his eyes, with a concerned tone, "Love, what's wrong? Is everything alright? Are you okay? Did you get hu-"
Patton sniffled, which was possibly the cutest thing Logan had ever seen, "I'm just-"
Logan held onto the edge of his words, ready to fight literally anyone in a moment's notice; which was unusual behavior but his boyfriend had been way cuter in person than over the phone which is so incredibly impossible, but-
"I'm just-" Patton spoke, a gleam in his eye and the warmest smile that sent "butterflies" straight to Logan's stomach, "I'm just really happy."
Logan faltered, a sloppy smile slipping it's way onto his lips without hesitation, "Oh, Patton. I love you so much, I'm not sure I can handle it."
Patton's face brightened so much, Logan wouldn't mind saying those words for the rest of his life; his smile was entirely too infectious and Logan could hardly breathe from the love that bloomed deep in his chest.
Oh god, he loved him. He loved him so much he could scream it off the rooftops --which was highly dangerous and improbable--, he'd yell it across the world if he had too.
Patton grinned, placing a hand on Logan's face with just the lightest hesitation, "I... I love you too. I just... I can't believe you're here, with me. You're real. You're... you're Logan."
Logan leaned into his hand, absorbing the warmth flowing through his skin without a shred of rejection or even thought at this point. He was running on adrenaline, adrenaline and love.
Patton was quiet, just for a second and Logan could feel his whole world freeze with him.
"I..." Patton hummed, inching closer to Logan with every step, "May I kis-"
Logan surged forward, because god he had been waiting to do that for so long. He had imagined it many a times before, what it felt like to kiss Patton and he hadn't imagined anything less than absolute bliss.
And he was so, so right.
It was slow and warm and sweet, filled with years of wanting to do so, but never doing so. Logan couldn't imagine anything more perfect, as he pulled Patton to him by the waist and wished on every star in the sky that this was real, and that Patton would stay here, with him, forever.
When they pulled away, it was for a breath and not much else. Just until, Patton's eyes began to sparkle and Logan didn't think he could ever see anything more beautiful.
"I..." Logan didn't know what to say, he was speechless at this beautiful boy in front of him.
Patton shook his head, placing a finger on his lips with a cheesy smile, "My turn to talk, Lo-Lo."
Logan rolled his eyes, with a shine of admiration in his eyes and love in his heart.
"You are-" Patton spoke inbetween kisses scatter among Logan's face and he was melting, "-amazing," kiss to the cheek, "-smart," kiss to the other cheek, "-handsome," kiss to the forehead, "-my entire world, and-" kiss to the nose.
Patton grabbed his tie and pulled him down, looking straight at his lips, "-I'm never going to let you go again."
Logan squeaked, and Patton met their lips again, confident and happy and Logan couldn't ask for anything better.
fin~
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ot7-hoes · 5 years
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A/N: Dezzy: Hey everyone! We're back with another OS! Technically, according to the request, it is a kind of part 2 of Nice Boys, similar scenario but with Tae and Kookie. This is actually the first thing on here that Sunnie and I have written together, so we're really excited to share it with you. Little mix up when it was posted, but it should be all fixed now. We hope you like it!
Sunnie: Hey Everybody, we're finally uploading this little baby. I must say we had a lot of fun writing this so I really hope you'll love it as much as you loved Nice Boys. This OS was born from an Request so thanks to @pillowiestar for requesting it. Dezzy pretty much explained everything so the only thing I can add from my side is that I also hope you'll like it. And thanks for reading it.
Word Count: 7,568
Warnings: Sub/Dom themes, oral (m & f receiving), fingering, squirting, face riding, lotsa dirty talk, slight impreg kink at the end, bondage, dp, threesome
Summary: When your neighbors get too rowdy late at night you decide to go over to teach them a lesson, but it seems that they don't want to play games anymore.
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You bury your head under your pillow again as your neighbors let out the next cry of victory. Rather, it was Taehyung's shout of joy while Jungkook complained loudly about the lost round. This has been going on for 2 hours now. You could always say exactly when a round was finished because of the volume penetrating to you and because of the thin new building walls you could also say with 95% accuracy who had won. Frustrated you rub your temples and crawl completely under your blanket. The two young men had been living next to you for 2 years. In the beginning they had also been quite nice, but that had changed quite a bit over time. They hadn't necessarily become more unfriendly, because you could still see them hauling the old lady's shopping around on floor 6, but they had become much more ruthless towards your sleep rhythm. The fact that you involuntarily witnessed their extended gaming nights made your opinion of them a little worse. You were slowly getting the impression that the two of them were really doing nothing but spending all their time gaming. Very rarely did you see them outside their apartment. The only evidence that they were still alive was the daily ringing delivery service and the nightly noise nuisance. With a unnerved groan you flip your blanket back and crawl out of your bed again to give yet another warning to your neighbours. It rarely helped and usually only for a short time, but it was definitely better than nothing. So perhaps you were granted a few hours of sleep. Besides, hope dies last, as you know. You simply leave your door open as you shuffle to the neighbouring door and let out your accumulated frustration at the innocent apartment door. It took a moment until someone finally opens the door for you, before you turned it into firewood. A young man with messy grey hair appears in the door frame. Taehyung. >>What gives us the honour at such a late hour? << he asks and gives you one of his boxy smiles, which he almost always seemed to wear on his lips. >>Your less well-off and atrophied brain cells, your apparent deafness and the obvious inability to read the clock give you the honor. Hard to believe, but there are actually people who can't sleep late tomorrow morning, but have to get out relatively early. It really can't be that hard to be a little considerate, can it? << you snap at him and pull up an eyebrow accusingly. Your counterpart looks at you a little surprised. >>What is it? You can be loud otherwise? Have you suddenly lost your voice? << you mock while you cross your arms in front of your chest.
>>Want me to repeat it very slowly? Or do you prefer to have it spelled right away? Would it be more understandable then? << you poke a little farther when you hear a snort from behind the young Korean. Not a second later his roommate appears behind him. Jungkook was the younger of the two, that's how much you had picked up at some point. >>Where is the problem again? << he asks and reaps another incredulous snort from you as he peers over Taehyung's shoulder. Just as you're about to answer, the gray-haired one seems to have found his voice again. >>We are too loud for her. << he said slightly dramatically, which only made you feel more angry. >>Once again. << Jungkook noticed with a crooked grin and shrugged his shoulders. Outraged you gasp for air. >>The 'once again' should definitely make you think by now. Also this should be the last time I have to come over to complain. Next time I'll initiate further steps. I am so sick of it. Contrary to yours, my synapses don't wither through looking at the constantly flickering screens. Apart from that, I can give you another helpful advice: << you say and glare angrily at the two young men. >>Have you ever heard of hearing aids? They are small inconspicuous things that you put in your ear and they are not so expensive. Then you don't have to yell at each other like that to communicate with each other. Maybe you should seriously consider a purchase. << With that you turn around, go back to your apartment and slam the door behind you into the lock. Now that you've been able to vent your anger, it's slowly being overshadowed again by the re-emerging fatigue. You yawn heartily and shuffle back to your bed. When you get there, you fall face first back into the soft pillows. Fortunately, it doesn't take long until you finally fall asleep without a new disturbance.
The next days passed surprisingly without further significant disturbances. Not that you would complain about this development in any way. One evening you had to knock against the wall to put an end to the reappearing volume, but this action was crowned with success, because it had led to the desired silence without resistance.From time to time you've even seen your annoying neighbours outside their gamer's den. This gave rise to some hope that they would do something about the degeneration of their brain cells or at least try to prevent further damage.You, on the other hand, spent the rest of your time learning. The finals were just a few days away and you weren't ready to beat them up just because of the constant noise pollution. Meanwhile there were only two days left until the finals, after that you had finished this semester successfully. Inside you hadn't completely given up hope that the two young men were also distracted by their finals and therefore refrained from screaming at night.
A glance at the clock tells you that it was already 1am. Sighing, you get up from your place at your desk, which had served you as a sleeping place during the last nights, sometimes even involuntarily, and you stagger, rubbing your throbbing temples, towards your bed. Once there, you drop on the mattress with a tired groan and want to make yourself comfortable between your pillows when all your hopes for another quiet night have been dashed. Again. Sometimes you regret moving into this apartment. Since the entire residential complex was a new building, apparently not much value had been placed on thick walls. Unfortunately, this apartment was one of the few affordable ones for your budget. So you had no choice but to complain for the second time this week.
You're exhaling a completely unnerved sound, you get back on your feet and almost storm out of your apartment. Because of your persistent headache, you had even less patience for the two of them. You press the little bell button extremely vigorously while leaving out any accumulated frustration at the innocent door. >>Is someone finally going to open the door? I know you're there. After all, you can’t be overheard. << you grumble at the door. The next blow, which had actually been very unerringly aimed at the door, hit Jungkook's chest with full force when he suddenly opens the door. >>Ouch...<< he sulks at you and rubs the sore spot. >>Stop complaining. That's nothing compared to your noise nuisance. << you hiss and push yourself effortlessly past him, taking advantage of the fact that you took him completely by surprise. He needed a moment to realize that you had just pushed yourself into the apartment. >>Hey, what is this now? You can't just walk in here as you like. That's trespassing. << His statement only elicits an angry snort. >>You just witnessed how I can. Also what you do is noise nuissance, which is by the way not better at all. What do you want to do now? Pull me out by my hair again? << you ask provocatively as you make your way to the living room. Fortunately, this apartment was built just like yours, so you have no problems finding it.
>>Now you've definitely gone too far. A little rest is really not too much to ask for, is it? Just a little bit of silence... << In the living room you finally find a Taehyung who is also surprised. He is sitting cross-legged on the sofa and looks at you with big eyes while the gamepad seems frozen in his hands. Jungkook had stopped in the door frame, probably to block your escape route. However, this one was just of the slightest interest to you. You're looking for something else. Both men were once again dressed in loose sweaters and sweatpants. That's what happened when you had the number of the delivery service on speed dial. Other sports than gaming were probably not considered by either of the two young Koreans. It was a shame, actually, if you thought about it more carefully, because they have pretty faces.
You need a second to find what you were looking for. When you found it, a gloating smile creeps on your lips. You reach behind the TV and pull out all the plugs from the power strip behind it. With the connector strip in your hand, you turn around to the two men again. >>I will take my finals in two days. No, it’s already tomorrow. For days I have been doing nothing besides learning. From morning to evening. As soon as I come home from university, I sit down at my desk and learn. All I need to get some rest in between is my fucking sleep, which I can't get because you two totally ruthless idiots just won't let me. << Angry you look at your neighbors. Taehyung had meanwhile placed the gamepad next to him and was now sitting on the sofa in front of you with slightly spread legs. Jungkook had leaned against the door frame with his arms crossed in front of his chest and looked at you blank. Their much too relaxed reactions only made you more furious, which is why you almost screamed the next words. >>Silence! That’s all I demand. I’m not askng for more. Just a little bit of silence! What is so difficult to understand about it? << The question hangs in the room for a moment. You look back and forth between the two men while your fingers tightly enclose the connector strip.
Before you talk any further, you take a deep breath to stop yelling. >>That's why I'm taking this with me now. So that I get at least a little of the peace and quiet that you ruthless Neanderthals deny me. << frustration follows rage afterwards, which is why you don't even notice how your voice moderates again and now sounds less angry, but completely frustrated and overworked. >>You can pick them up after I’m done with my finals. I just have an immense headache and wish for nothing more than a little sleep before I go on learning. If you would do anything else sometime except sit on the sofa all day and play video games, you might understand. Or maybe you are looking for another hobby or directly a girlfriend. << You can see Jungkook raising an eyebrow slightly mockingly and Taehyung's corners of his mouth curling slightly upwards as you continue speaking. >>A little of dick wetting can do wonders against accumulated frustration. In those two years, the only women I've ever seen here were your mothers. And that's a pretty devastating balance. << Now Taehyung has raised both eyebrows and looks at you amused. But you don't let yourself be distracted anymore and just keep talking. >>But a little advice. Women can only be found out there. They don't come flown into virgin caves on their own to guys who don't even know how to operate a stove, let alone hide under tent sized clothes instead of doing something for themselves. << Innocently you shrug your shoulders. The two men don't look at you anymore, but look at each other, pregnant with meaning, which you can't interpret. >>Good night to you then. << you say briefly tied up and want to leave the living room. But Jungkook didn't move an inch.
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"Get out of my way, kid." You grumble, pushing against his chest with your hand, and his torso feels unexpectedly built under your fingertips. He only smirks in response, still not budging. "You really think you can trespass on our property, steal our stuff, and we'd actually let you leave with it?" He chuckles. You feel a presence behind you, and suddenly the strip in your grasp is snatched away, Taehyung proudly waving it around before putting it back in it's rightful place.
"I think all that studying must've gotten to her head, Kookie. She's not thinking properly." Taehyung calls back as he plugs everything back in. "I think you're right. You said you had a headache too, Y/N? Well, as a medical student I know one thing that could get rid of that for you." Jungkook smiles, lifting his hand to cup your cheek, but you smack it away. "Medical student my ass. You never step foot out of this flat, I highly doubt you even attend classes." You scoff, crossing your arms. "He's right though. He's a med student and I'm an educational student. He's gonna be a doctor and I'll be a teacher." Taehyung chimes in, drawing your attention to him.
You laugh loudly, both of them cocking their eyebrows at you. "There is no way that your lack of braincells could handle all of that. Being a doctor and a teacher require hours of studying, which you two clearly don't do since all I hear through these thin walls is you screaming over your stupid games." You smile, still calming down from your laughing fit. "You know, it's really rude to barge in and ridicule us on our passions." Taehyung pouts. "And do you really think we don't get girls?" Jungkook asks, and you nod in response. "I never see any girls come in or out of that door." You reason, and they both laugh. "We don't bring them over here, we go to their place, because we know how thin these walls are thanks to your late night self love sessions." Your smile drops, Taehyung's words sending a chill down your spine. They've heard you? They know what you do on lonely, drunk nights?
"I have to say, your sounds are so sweet, we've been dying to hear them ourselves, calling out our names instead of 'Matt Bomer! Oh my god, Matt'!" He mimics your sounds of pleasure, making your cheeks heat up. "Also, he's gay, you know that, right sweetheart?" Jungkook asks. "That's not the point! He's still a lot hotter than you two ever could be even if you did work out and all that kind of stuff!" You cry, completely flustered. "Whatever you say, darling. The point I'm making is that we're not the losers you think we are and we'd appreciate it if you could keep all of your snide comments and rude remarks to yourself from now on, or we're gonna have to teach you a lesson." Taehyung smirks, throwing his arm around Jungkook's shoulders.
"Teach me a lesson? Really? Don't use that teacher bullshit on me. You guys are a fucking joke. Please move so I can go home and maybe get a few hours of rest?" You ask, stepping up to them, but they stay motionless. "That's actually gonna be a no go, sweetheart." Jungkook says, stepping forward and taking your chin between his fingers, tilting it up so you look him in the eyes. You don't know why, but it's like his presence, the close proximity to him, his actions, everything about this moment has your confidence from before draining out of your body. "I think you need to be a little nicer to us. You said a lot of things about us that are wrong. Why don't we prove her wrong, Tae?" Jungkook asks, looking back at the older male.
The two look at you, their eyes dark, a tint of something almost animalistic, as if they were hungry lions and you were just a small antelope with no chance of surviving. "I think that's a great idea." Taehyung nods in agreement. "What should we prove wrong first? She said we're deaf, we're virgins, we're stupid, out of shape, the list goes on." He rambles. "Maybe we should prove how in shape we are first. What do you say, baby?" Jungkook suggests, grabbing your hand. He guides it under his shirt, your fingers gliding over his hot skin, and to your surprise, it's fairly tough, your hand gliding over the small ridges of his abs, a small gasp escaping his lips as he closes his eyes at the sensation. You bite your lip, embarrassed at how weak you're getting. You always figured they were out of shape, maybe even a bit chunky since all they wore were baggy clothes, but now that you're feeling it for yourself, you desperately wish to see it.
You don't even realize that he's pulled his hand away, your hand still running over his skin, until both of his hands are rested on your hips. He steps a bit closer, walking you backwards a bit until your back hits something warm, another set of arms wrapping around you. Taehyung pulls you close to him, leaning forward, his hot breath fanning over your shoulder. You're so confused by this turn of events that you open your mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. "What is it, Y/N?" Taehyung whispers, his lips ghosting over your skin. "Have you suddenly lost your voice?" He smirks before he kisses your neck. You haven't felt this in a long time, and even though it's your annoying neighbor doing it, you can't help but enjoy it, your eyes closing as your head tilts to the side, giving him more access.
As you relish in the feeling of Taehyung's lips, your breath is taken away by Jungkook's lips crashing onto yours, swallowing your gasp of surprise. You close your eyes, moving to wrap your arms around his neck, giving into them completely. Taehyung's hands move up your torso, cupping your breasts, your back arching involentarily, making your ass press against him. He growls into your skin, teeth grazing against you, which makes you moan into Jungkook's mouth. You haven't been touched like this in so long, it's embarrassing how wet you are already. Taehyung fondles your breasts as Jungkook takes your bottom lip between his teeth, your mouth opening for him.
Jungkook groans as your fingers tangle is his hair, Taehyung grinding against you, and you feel him growing hard against you, Jungkook's own hard on pressing against your thigh. Is this really happening? All you wanted was some decent sleep, yet here you are, sandwiched between your noisy neighbors, letting them ravish you. You definitely weren't expecting this, but you aren't complaining. In fact, you pout when Jungkook pulls away from you, smirking. "I think she's enjoying it, Tae." He says breathily, the older male humming against your neck. "Her cheeks are so pink, it's adorable." He smiles, his hand reaching up to cup your cheek, feeling the warmth radiating from it. "I bet she's wet too. Isn't that right, baby? Mind if I feel?" He tilts his head, and you only whimper in response. "I need a straightforward answer, Y/N. Use your words. Yes or no." He says. "Y-Yes. P-Please." You stutter, much to his amusement. "Good girl."
Jungkook's hand slides lower on your body, cupping your heat through your pajama shorts. As you moan softly, Taehyung decides to try and steal your attention, sucking on your neck harshly, and you're sure it's gonna leave a mark. You don't know who to focus on, but Jungkook makes the decision for you, his hand dipping under your waistband, the feeling of his bare fingers tracing over your slit has you bucking your hips. "Holy crap, how are you this wet already? All we've done is kiss you." He chuckles, truly astonished. "Tae, you gotta feel this."
You whimper as Jungkook's hand leaves you, but it's quickly replaced by Taehyung's, who hums against your neck. "Fuck, such a good girl, so wet for us. What is it, have you actually thought about this happening? Have we ever been on your mind when you played with yourself? I'm not gonna lie, we've thought about you. I know I walked in on Kookie moaning your name while he stroked himself. I think it was one of those nights you were screaming. Isn't that right, Jungkook?" Taehyung's deep voice rings through your ears, his finger tracing large, slow circles around your sensitive bud. You look at Jungkook through hooded lids expectantly. "I'm sorry, Y/N. I couldn't help myself. Your moans just sounded too good, I had to picture that it was me helping you, me making you scream." Jungkook admits, his confession driving you crazy. How many times has he thought of you while rubbing one out? How many times had Taehyung? If you could, would you have come over sooner, making your dirtiest secret a reality?
You've thought about it sure, once or twice, regretfully. You couldn't help it. But to know that they've thought about it to, getting off to the thought of you, it drives you absolutely insane. You push back against Taehyung, grinding on him as your hand traces down, palming Jungkook through his baggy sweatpants, the sweetest, softest sound falling from their lips. "Dirty girl. You wanna touch us? You feel the problem you caused us? I think it's your responsibility to take care of them." Taehyung growls, taking his hand out of your panties and holding it in front of your face. "Open up, sweetheart." He whispers, and you do as he says, opening your mouth for him. He pops his finger into your mouth, your lips wrapping around the digit and your tongue swirling around it, tasting yourself. He moans, Jungkook leaning forward to place soft kisses in your shoulder. "Why don't you put that slutty little mouth of yours to good use, darling? I think it'd do a lot better wrapped around our cocks than talking shit about us." Taehyung chuckles.
The three of you round the couch, the boys sitting down on the couch, looking up at you expectantly as you standing before them. "Well, what are you waiting for, baby? Be a good girl for us and get on your knees." Jungkook smirks cockily at you, sending your heart aflutter. You do as he says, dropping to your knees and kneeling on the ground in front of them. As your eyes scan over the tents in their sweatpants you lick your lips, eager to get to work. You move closer, your hands reaching out to palm both of them through the fabric, a simultaneous moan sending another wave of need through you. They shift, pulling their pants down enough for their cocks to spring out, and your breath is taken away. Taehyung's is longer and thicker, but Jungkook's is pretty with a nice little curve to it. You desperately want them in you, but you know you have to give them something first.
You spit into your hand, their eyes widening at the lewd action, before you bring your hand to Taehyung's length, a deep sigh spilling from his soft lips as you wrap your hand around him, pumping him slowly as you grab hold of Jungkook's. As you get closer to him, his breath starts quickening, the excitement of finally being able to see your pretty lips around him making him slightly nervous. Your tongue pokes out, flicking over his tip as you make eye contact with him, a shiver running through his body. Inch by inch you take him into your mouth, bobbing on him while continuing to pump Taehyung, whose long fingers are tangling in your hair, guiding you on Jungkook's cock. When he hits the back of your throat you gag, a loud moan ringing out from him as your throat contracts around him. You suck it up, tears filling your eyes as you continue to take him in as much as you can, wanting to hear as many of his moans as you can. "Y/N, fuck. Tae, I'm not gonna last long." Jungkook whimpers, his hips moving instinctively as he slowly thrusts into your mouth.
"It's okay, Kookie. Are you getting close? You wanna cum?" Taehyung cooes, brushing Jungkook's hair out of his face. "Y-Yes. Oh fuck. Baby, keep going like that, please." Jungkook begs you, and you happily comply, even picking up the pace. You moan around him, his thighs shaking under your grasp. At this point you've kind of forgotten about pumping Taehyung, knowing you'll make it up to him, but you're too focused on how fucked out Jungkook looks already. His head leaning against the back of the couch, lips parted, eyes shut tight, face flushed, and knuckles turning white as he grips the edge of the couch.
A string of incomprehensible sounds tumbles from his mouth along with loud whines and moans. "Y/N, baby, oh god." He whimpers, his legs trembling. You swirl your tongue around him, your drool spilling from your mouth, lewd slurping sounds echoing off the walls, but you don't care. The only thing you care about in this moment is driving him over the edge, and with one more flick of your tongue, that's exactly what you do, his salty cum filling your mouth, and you swallow every drop.
"What a good girl. I think she deserves a reward, don't you think, Kookie?" Taehyung asks, brushing your hair out of your face. Jungkook nods, his face still flushed. "Why don't you get on the floor, Jungkook, and lay down. Sweetheart, your knees might hurt a bit, but I promise we'll make it up to you." Taehyung orders, Jungkook laying down on the plush carpet. "Now Y/N, stand up for a moment." He says, standing up. You rise to meet him, anxious to find out what he's going to command next. The way he's taking control over the situation, even telling Jungkook what to do, has you dripping. His fingers grip the hem of your shirt, peeling it off your body, next off is your bra, his eyes lingering over your bare breasts before kneeling before you, his skin fingers hooking into the waistband of your shorts and panties. He kisses your stomach as he slides the material down your legs, letting them pool onto the floor as he admires you.
You start to feel nervous under their gaze, rocking on your heels anxiously. "Fuck, you're more beautiful than I dreamed. I can't wait until we make you ours. But first-" Taehyung says, standing up. His large hand reaches around your body, gripping the supple flesh of your ass. His thumb runs over your soft lips, his tongue running over his own. "I wanna feel what Jungkook felt. I wanna know how good your slutty mouth is for myself. Now, kneel above Jungkook's face and open your mouth for Daddy. Understand?" He whispers, the nickname making you shudder. You nod, but that doesn't seem to be enough for him. "Say it, sweetheart. Use your words." He cooes, a soft whimper coming from Jungkook on the floor. "Yes, Daddy." You nod, a low groan coming from his throat. "Good girl. Now get on your knees for us."
You comply, standing over Jungkook and sinking to your knees, his hands rubbing your thighs soothingly. Taehyung stands in front of you, and you realize why he chose to do this. With Jungkook on the floor beneath you and Taehyung standing in front of you, if you sit up straight your face is level with Taehyung's cock. You gasp as you feel cool air blown onto your core, gripping onto Taehyung's thighs for support as your legs shake. "So sensitive. Tell us, baby, when's the last time someone else touched you." Jungkook says, his finger tracing over your slit as he watches it glisten with your slick. "Uh, I think, I think it was my l-last boyfriend, Hoseok." You stutter, trying really hard to remember. "And how long ago was that?" "Maybe four months ago?" You recall the last time you slept with him, the night you broke up. "That's too long, baby. You should've come to us sooner. We would've gladly helped you out. I promise we're gonna treat you right. Plus, we're gonna make sure your perception of us changes." Jungkook says.
With that last thought, Jungkook wraps his arms around your thighs, pulling you down onto his mouth as he flattens his tongue onto you, licking up your slit. "Oh fuck." You whine, gripping onto Taehyung's sweatpants. "Come on, sweetheart, open up for me." He cooes, holding his throbbing cock in his hand. As Jungkook's tongue dips past your folds, flicking against your clit, your thighs tremble in his grasp as your mouth hangs open, Taehyung taking the opportunity to slide into your mouth, your moan sending a vibration through him. "Jesus fuck, sweetheart. No wonder Kookie came so fast." He groans. "Just keep your mouth open for me. You don't need to do anything. Just let me fuck your mouth while Jungkook tongue fucks you." You hum in approval around him as his hips move slowly, thrusting himself deeper into your mouth.
Jungkook's mouth works on you, alternating between sucking on your clit and burying his tongue into your hole, the wet muscle wiggling around and making you moan around Taehyung's cock. Taehyung holds your hair, keeping you in place as he fucks himself into your mouth, groaning deeply each time he goes too far, making you gag around him. Your hips move against Jungkook, his nose nudging against your bud each time you grind against him, sending a new wave of pleasure through you. You're embarrassed at how close you are to cumming, but you can't really focus on caring, only focusing on taking Taehyung and feeling Jungkook. One of your hands rested on Taehyung's thigh as your other tangled in Jungkook's hair, tugging gently each time he did something right, making him moan and send vibrations straight through you.
"Fuck sweetheart, you swallow my cock so well. It feels so good." Taehyung moans, and you look up at him, making eye contact. "How can you look so innocent with a cock in your mouth? You're so perfect, sweetheart, I can't wait to fill up that pretty pussy of yours and- fuck- and fi-ll it up all nice with- our- shit-" Taehyung's sentence breaks up, his voice cracking as his thrusts get sloppy, doubling over as he spills into your mouth. He tastes a bit sweet thank Jungkook, but it seems like there's a bit more for some reason. Once he pulls out you swallow, and once your mouth is empty you moan loudly as Jungkook fervently laps at your clit.
Taehyung kneels down to your level, and you instantly wrap your arms around him as you grind against Jungkook. He holds onto you, kissing your face and your neck as you moan for them. "You sound heavenly, sweetheart. Is Kookie doing a good job? Are you gonna cum all over his tongue soon?" He cooes, his hands roaming over your body. You nod, feeling the end rapidly approaching. "J-Jun-ko-mmm-" You whine, your body trembling. Taehyung bites down on your neck as Jungkook sucks on your clit harshly, sending you over the edge.
Jungkook gathers every little bit on his tongue, reveling in your sweet taste before patting your thigh. Taehyung hears it, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you up to stand. Jungkook gets up, standing behind you. He grabs your arm, spinning you around to face him and before you know it, his lips coming crashing down onto yours, his tongue immediately sliding into your mouth, and you can taste your essence. You've never been kissed with such hunger and need before, you moan into his mouth as you enjoy the feeling of really being needed and wanted.
"Sweetheart, why don't you go to my room and wait for us on the bed? It's the room on the left. I want you to lay down on your back with your legs spread nice and pretty, with your arms above your head. Got it?" Taehyung whispers in your ear. Jungkook pulls away from you, leaving you breathless. You nod, excitedly bounding to the room you were instructed. Taehyung and Jungkook watch as your hips sway, groaning simultaneously at how much they wanted you.
You climb onto the bed, laying how Taehyung instructed, wondering what they have in store for you. You wait anxiously, the thought of what could happen making you aroused again. They finally appear in the doorway, Jungkook's hands behind his back. "Look at that, Jungkook. She's so obedient for us already. All spread out for us." They stalk towards the bed, Taehyung by your lower half and Jungkook up by your head. Taehyung moves so he's sitting between your legs, your knees resting on his thighs. His hands run along your thighs, the gentle touch making you squirm. "What is it, sweetheart? Already horny again? After Jungkook just made you cum? Such a greedy little slut you are. Don't worry, you'll get what you need. Jungkook, go ahead." Taehyung hums, and you raise your eyebrow in confusion. You feel something wrap around your wrists, binding them together tightly. You try to pull them apart, but you can't, your struggle useless.
"So pretty." Taehyung cooes, his finger tracing over your slit, sending a shiver through you. "If we're gonna make you ours, we have to prepare you." He smirks, slipping a finger inside of you. You clench around him, having something inside of you feeling amazing. He quickly adds a second finger, pumping in and out. As his fingers work on you, Jungkook's hand runs from your shoulder to your breast, rubbing it gently. "Y/N, how many fingers have you taken before?" Taehyung asks. "Ah, um, two." You reply. "Well, how about we try three then?" He smirks, adding another finger inside of you. You gasp, the stretch heavenly. He curls them inside of you, his long fingers reaching deep inside of you, the heel of his palm grinding against your previously ignored clit.
"You know, you complained about how we plays games all the time, but do you realize how much gaming helps in situations like this?" Jungkook chimes in. "You see, with all the controls, our fingers have to move fast." At those words, Taehyung's fingers move faster inside of you. "Also, each hand is moving simultaneously, so it's easy to do more than one thing at a time." Taehyung's other hand moves closer, his thumb pressing down onto your clit, your body jolting at the direct contact.
The stretch of his fingers combined with his thumb working on you drives you over the edge faster than you care to admit, your walls squeezing his fingers, but he doesn't stop after helping you ride out your high. You whine loudly at the overstimulation, his hands possibly moving even faster. You gasp and shake your head, your toes curling and your legs spasming uncontrollably. "No no no no-mmmm-no no." You whimper, a tear rolling down your cheek. "No? You don't want this? I think you do, sweetheart. Just one more, come on. Cum all over Daddy's fingers just one more time." Taehyung growls. "D-Da-ddy! Fuck fuck fuuu-" You cry out, desperately wishing to grip onto something. Jungkook reaches down, pushing down just above your pelvis, and your vision goes white, screaming as you're taken over by pleasure.
This time Taehyung stops, a warm wetness covering your lower half. "No fucking way. It actually worked." Jungkook says breathily. You catch your breath, finally able to look down at what happened. You see Taehyung sitting there, breathing heavily with a devious smirk on his face, his sweater and pants soaked. "You ever squirt before, sweetheart?" He smiles. You shake your head, closing your eyes and laying your head back. "Well, then I guess that makes us special." Taehyung teases.
Both of them get up, and you watch as they strip from their clothes. You lick your lips, surprised by how built they both are. You felt Jungkook's body, but now seeing both of them standing before you, you wonder how they got like that. "We do leave our house, you know. We have gym memberships." Jungkook smirks, noticing your stare. You think about that for a moment, how sexy they'd look, all sweaty. "Baby, you think you can stand up for a minute?" Taehyung asks. You try, your legs wobbling, and Jungkook catches you. "I don't think so." He chuckles. "Well then, I guess we'll just have to hold her up." Taehyung smirks.
After some awkward shuffling, giggles, and slips, you're all situated so Taehyung is laying on the bed, holding onto your legs, and Jungkook stands in front of you, also holding onto you, keeping you hovered over Taehyung's standing cock. "Tae, I've got a hold of her. You're gonna have to help me, ugh-" "Don't worry, Kookie. No homo, right?" Taehyung chuckles. You wonder what they're talking about, but you realize when Jungkook gasps, and realize Taehyung is guiding Jungkook's length to line up with your entrance. He pushes into you, both of you moaning together as relief floods over you.
"How is it, Kookie?" Taehyung asks. "So- so so so fucking good." Jungkook moans, his head falling to rest against your shoulder. "Perfect. Alright, Y/N, this may hurt a little bit, but we'll go slow so you can get used to it. You ready?" Taehyung's hand rubs over your back soothingly. "P-Please. Just do it. I want it." You squeak, much to his surprise. "You want it that bad, huh? You want both of us to fill you up? How bad do you want it, baby. Tell Daddy how much you want it." As Taehyung talks, Jungkook stays still, relishing in the warm feeling of you pussy pulsing around him. Taehyung grabs his cock, nudging where you and Jungkook are connected. "So bad, Daddy. Please. I want it so bad." You beg.
Your arms fly around Jungkook's neck, wrists still tied together, as Taehyung pushes into you. He was right, it hurts a bit, stretching you out more than you've ever been before. You cry out, Jungkook shushing you. "Sh, hey, hey, sweetheart, look at me." He cooes. You look at him with tear filled eyes, breaking his heart. "It's okay, princess. I promise it'll get better. You're so good for us. We'll take care of you." Jungkook whispers soothingly to you, kissing your tears away. Once Taehyung is all the way in, all three of you sit there, not moving, them allowing you to get used to it. Taehyung rubs your back as Jungkook peppers your face with tender kisses.
"You okay, sweetheart?" Taehyung asks. You nod, still holding on to Jungkook tightly. "Jungkook." You whisper. "Yes, baby, what is it?" He asks, nudging your nose with his. "Please take this off. I don't want this on anymore. Please." You beg, moving your arms to show him what you mean and grabbing Taehyung's attention. "Kookie, untie her." He says, and Jungkook nods, reaching behind him and untying it with one hand expertly. As soon as you're freed you grab onto Jungkook, holding him tightly with one hand tangled in his hair. "You know, we probably should've done that before we got into this position." Jungkook chuckles. "Dude, we never think ahead." Taehyung responds and you giggle softly, shaking your head.
"Alright, I think I'm good." You nod, biting your lip. "You sure?" Jungkook asks, and you nod again. "Alright. I'm moving then." Jungkook says. The feeling of him sliding out of you, while you're still full of Taehyung, is completely indescribable. You moan softly and you feel him rub against your walls, the sweetest moan ringing through your ears from him. As he pushes back in, Taehyung pulls out, starting an unspoken synchronization that has you moaning uncontrollably, gripping onto Jungkook as right as you can as they bounce you on their cocks.
"Fuck, sweetheart. You're squeezing around us so well. You like it when we fuck you like this? Stretching out your pretty little pussy?" Taehyung growls from behind you. "Yes! Yes I fucking love it!" You cry, your breath quickening. "That's our little cock slut. Such a good girl for us. Now, do you take back everything you said about us?" He asks. "Fuck, yes! I'm sorry!" You shout, burying your face in Jungkook's neck. "Good girl. Such a good girl for Daddy and Kookie." Taehyung hums.
You start to place hot, open mouthed kissed on Jungkook's neck, nipping at it softly, and it's like that flipped a switch for him. "Fuck it, Tae, hold her. I need her to cum right now." Jungkook grunts. Taehyung takes hold of your leg as Jungkook frees one of his arms, bringing it lower. "Wha-ah!" You moan, his fingertips pressing harshly into your clit. "Oh man, holy shit!" Jungkook gasps, the pressure from his fingers making you clench around them. "Shit, Kook, keep doing that." Taehyung growls, both of them still thrusting in and out of you. "You look so good like this, baby. You're so lost in pleasure, I bet you won't even remember your name after this, huh? But you'll remember ours. Say our names, baby girl. Tell everyone in the building whose fucking you so well, stretching your pussy out, whose gonna make you cum so hard we'll have to carry you home tomorrow morning. Say it. Say our names." Jungkook says, leaving you in absolute shock. How the hell did he switch so fast?
"D-Daddy! Jungkook!" You scream out, a pleased smirk on Jungkook's face. "That's right, baby. Now, you wanna cum for us? Be a good girl and give us one more. Squeeze our cocks. Make us fill you up and make you a complete mess. Come on." He cooes, rubbing your clit even faster. "Oh, oh fuck oh fuck fuck fu-" Your cries are interrupted by your own moan, your end hit you like a freight train. "Shit shit shi-it!" Jungkook whimpers, Taehyung only growling as you squeeze around them, setting off their own orgasms. They spill into you, your pussy clenching and milking them for all their worth. They ride out the highs, fucking their cum into you before finally pulling out, laying you down and resting beside you.
"Holy shit." Taehyung breathes, all of you panting. All you can do is smile and nod, completely satisfied. You lay there, wondering if all of that really happened, or if you were actually just sleeping in your apartment. However, the warmth radiating off of the two sweaty men next to you proves it's real, especially as Jungkook turns, facing you and rubbing your thighs soothingly while Taehyung places kisses on your cheek. "Wait." Jungkook gasps, sitting up and looking at you both in shock. "We actually, like, you know. Are you in the pill or anything?" He asks. You didn't even think of that. "Uh, no, I'm not. I'm sorry. I should've thought of that. I'm so sorry." You apologize, feeling stupid. "Sh, no no no, baby, it's not your fault. We should've thought about it to. We're sorry." Jungkook cooes, holding you close to him. "I'm not." Taehyung chimes in, and you both turn to look at him in horror. "Tae, what if she gets pregnant? What's going to happen with all of us?" Jungkook asks. "Then we get a bigger apartment. Honestly, I kinda hope she gets pregnant." Taehyung smiles. "Not gonna lie, impregnation is one of my biggest kinks. Just imagine it, Kookie, her walking around with our babies inside of her. She'd be so beautiful. I mean, just look at her now. All filled with our cum. Look, there's so much it's even dripping out." He's right. You can feel it dripping, you've just ignored it.
Jungkook stays silent, only licking his lips. "And if she does get pregnant, then that just means she'll be ours for sure. What do you say, Y/N? Do you want to be ours?" Taehyung asks, rubbing your cheek. You nod, the idea of being in a relationship with them making you all kinds of excited. "That's great!" He smiles. "Y/N." Jungkook says, catching your attention. "Are you really okay with this?" He asks, and you nod. "I love you so much, Y/N. We love you so much and we're gonna take extra special care of you and appreciate you and all that kinda stuff." Jungkook smiles, placing quick pecks all over your face and neck, making you giggle. "You'll stay with us tonight, right?" Taehyung asks, snuggling up behind you. "Well, I don't think I can really walk home." You giggle. "Well then, I'd say we did a damn good job." He smirks, holding you close. Laying there, cuddled by your noisy neighbors, now lovers, you wonder how so much could've changed in just a few hours. You're not complaining though. Before you drift off to sleep, you imagine how interesting your life will be from now on.
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