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atlas-of-a-human-soul · 3 years

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Illuminated, pt.2

Summary: Seeing an old friend isn’t always a happy occasion, but it can direct you to someone who undoubtedly makes your heart beat faster.

Warnings: talk of war and death, book spoilers

Part 1

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It felt strange to be walking the same halls she once revered. Y/N had barely grown at all since her time at Little Palace, if anything she'd claim she got shorter, but the walls didn't seem as intimidating as they used to.

Back then, she was just a clueless girl with dreams that turned into nightmares. The war had left deep wounds everywhere in Ravka and for that, Y/N would curse Alina Starkov's name until her dying breath.

Ravka trusted Alina to rescue them from the darkness, but she only expanded it. She fled from her responsibility and responded with force when General Kirigan asked for accountability.

Y/N was considered too young to be allowed in battle, sent away by the Darkling with children who have not yet mastered their particular branch of small science. Grisha a year older than her were given the chance to protect Ravka, something she wished she could have done.

If it were up to her, she'd have stood by him instead of hiding.

Y/N had always been quite capable of controlling her power. Whether it be fire, wind or water, she held a firm grasp over all three elements with an iron fist and a terrifyingly sharp mind. She had developed attacks no one else is capable of, the kind that made other Grisha wary of her ferocity.

Naturally, she assumed that was why General Kirigan had called on her. The last thing she expected was to have the General, her King, admire the abominable blue flames she wields.

"Y/N?" A breathless reminder of a voice she once knew had stopped her in her tracks.

Looking over her shoulder, Y/N's lips break into a wide smile at the sight of her old friend and confidant.

She didn't waste time, running toward the girl who had fiery hair Y/N always wanted to have too. Colliding with Genya, Y/N couldn't stop a laugh that escaped her as she wrapped her arms around her much taller friend.

“I. Can’t. Breathe!” Genya manages to say between shallow, strained breaths.

Chuckling, Y/N releases her from the death grip she calls a hug. She’s never been subtle in showing affection, or hate.

“I can’t believe it’s you!” Y/N exclaims, her attempt to quiet down failing before she even tries.

With a surprised smile set on her lips, Genya nods. “I didn’t realize you’d be at Little Palace.”

Faltering, Y/N licks her lips as her smile is erased. “You don’t seem too happy about that.”

“Little Palace isn’t exactly the safest place in Ravka anymore”, Genya musses.

Scoffing, Y/N furrows her eyebrows. “Alina made it unsafe.” Lifting her chin, Y/N continues, “The Darkling will protect us.”

Pursing her lips, Genya looks around carefully to ensure they’re alone. “That’s the problem. While he’s here, no one is safe.” Taking Y/N by the elbow, she pulls her aside toward the open window to help disguise their voices from any curious listeners. “Alina was our only hope of killing him.”

Ripping her arm away from Genya’s hold, Y/N narrows her eyes at the friend she once trusted more than anyone else in this world. When there was no hope, Genya put a smile on her face. Even when Y/N was losing herself, she had Genya to remind her of who she is.

She never doubted her friend, never questioned her loyalty or sanity. Until now.

“Genya, who did you fight alongside with?” Y/N asks sharply, her lips forming a thin line.

“You don’t know the entire story”, Genya tries but Y/N steps away as if she’d been burned.

The war had made warriors from children for no matter how they tried to protect their innocence, war leaves no one untouched. When Alina Starkov decided to turn her back on Grisha, Y/N and many others have been forced to grow up far too quickly. No silly crushes or petty arguments mattered for the blood had reached them once Alina slaughtered Botkin in front of them. It was the only taste of war Y/N had for she had killed for the first time on that day.

Alina is the reason she has blood on her hands.

“The story I do know is enough for me”, Y/N huffs as she shakes her head at Genya. “The fact our General did not kill you is proof of his generosity. Perhaps you should learn to appreciate him. Your precious Alina never showed such mercy.”

Turning her back on Genya, Y/N headed back. She didn’t want to explore the old corridors anymore, but to bathe and sleep. From tomorrow on, she’ll be working with Kirigan on her new ability and she didn’t want to display any reasons for him to distrust her.

She pauses as Genya speaks up.

“I wonder what will get you killed faster – your loyalty or stubbornness?”

Turning her head to the left, Y/N could see her old friend in her peripheral vision. “At least I’ll die for something I believe in. I’ll die for Ravka. Can you say the same?”

Fuming, Y/N tossed and turned in her bed. She turned the pillow to the colder side, she even tried turning her head on the opposite side of the headboard, but nothing could calm her mind or the itching to use her powers to blow off some steam.

The one part of herself she truly did connect with the Inferni was the temper she often got in trouble for. When Nina Zenik called her stupid, she burned off her eyebrows and Botkin forced her to wake up at the crack of dawn and do sprints for the next month as punishment. It’s probably the only time in her life she was truly in good form.

Grunting, she raised her legs and slammed them back on the mattress in frustration. Tossing the blanket off, she grabbed her blue kefta and left the room.

Her footsteps echo the halls as she all but runs out, straight into the foggy morning air outside. The cold pinches her skin, her lips trembling for a moment before she sinks her front teeth into her bottom lip. Her breaths come in visible puffs of air as she wraps her arms around her middle while securing her hands under her armpits to stop herself from using her power that’s calling to her like the siren song calls sailors to their certain death.

Y/N always had the misfortune of wearing her heart on her sleeve with those she cares for. She also has a nasty tendency to either feel nothing or everything at once and when someone she loves turns out to be different than what she believed, it causes an uncontrollable explosion of emotion deep within.

“Is there a particular reason you’re outside at this ungodly hour?” A deep voice makes her gasp as she turns to look at the very person she most admires.

Raising her eyebrows, she nearly laughed as she realized the Darkling wore not his kefta, but the clothes he sleeps in. It’s loose clothing, black as his kefta and horse and yet it gives off a softness she did not realize a man as powerful as him could ever possess.

“I’d ask you the same, General”, she retorts with her eyebrows still raised as if she’s challenging him to come closer and make her stop ogling him.

For a moment, she thought he might turn away and leave as he stood there calmly. It feels as if he’s studying her, taking in every inch of her and committing it to memory. If it were any other man, Y/N would have spoken up or acted out to prevent the uncomfortable feeling of being watched so intimately, yet she didn’t want Kirigan to ever stop looking at her. If not for her fear of being too forward, she’d invite him closer.

As if he read her mind, Kirigan takes a step closer….and then another one. She can’t help but wonder what’s going through his mind.

What does he see when he looks at her?

How does she look in his eyes, because the way he’s looking at her now is taking her breath away?

He looks at her as if there is something worth looking at.

“Sometimes my mind turns on me”, he admits in a low, quiet tone that Y/N has to strain to hear him properly. “I’ve lived a long life and a longer one awaits me. My mind is full of ghosts that want retribution for what I did to them.”

Swallowing thickly, she straightens her back as she comes closer – close enough to feel his breath as it fans the hair at the top of her head.

“What did you do to them?”

The left corner of his lips twitches. “You’d think ill of me if I told you.”

Averting her gaze to his bare chest revealed by the wind as it pulled the fabric of his shirt, Y/N licks her lips. She argues with herself on her next move, wondering if it would be improper to touch the man who had been considered untouchable by everyone she ever met. Her fingers years to feel his skin under their tips, to slowly trail the jawline she wants to press her lips against.

Frowning softly, she bites her lower lip as she locks her eyes on his dark ones. Unlike many before her, she does not crumble under the weight of his heavy gaze. Her heart trembles as she reaches out and places her palm on his chest.

He didn’t expect her to touch him, tensing up. It’s surprising how warm her hand is, more so how inviting the warmth is. He’s hyper-aware of every breath he takes as his chest expands under her touch, hoping this incredibly brazen Grisha does not feel the way his heart jumps with the sudden surge of her bravery.

When he notices her lips move, he holds his breath as if the simple act of breathing could muffle her voice and make it harder for him to soak up the blind loyalty and love she holds for him.

“Who we are and who we need to be to survive are two different things. You’re not evil for choosing to protect yourself and your country. I could never think badly of you, General.”

It’s been a long time since he found someone so incredibly devoted to him and his cause, exhilarating him to the core. Alina had never truly believed in him for she always considered him wicked, but Y/N couldn’t be more different. Perhaps he’s right and this time it will work.

With someone trusting as Y/N is, he can’t possibly fail again.

Letting her hand fall, Y/N looks away as she realizes she crossed the line and his silence is the easiest way for him to inform her of it. Truth be told, she wondered who was the last woman who got to lay her hand on his chest.

Was it Alina?

There were rumors of the relationship Kirigan and Alina supposedly had and Y/N always felt a pang of jealousy upon hearing the girls talk. She never knew him, she never truly had him and she never will, but the idea someone else does brought her pain.

Perhaps her overthinking or the increasingly awkward silence prompted her temper to speak instead of her brain.

"Did you love her?" Y/N blurts out.

Her eyes widen as she realizes her thoughts have become vocal and in the presence of the very man she should be watching her mouth around.

"I apologize. It must be a difficult time to reminisce about." Maybe Nina was right – she is stupid!

"It is quite alright.” Darkling lets out an audibly heavy breath. “I did not love her, I trusted her. I trusted her enough to put all my hope for a better Ravka on her shoulders and she betrayed our country."

"No", she reaches out slowly, her hand finding its way to his as it gingerly grasps his fingers. "She betrayed you."

Smiling reluctantly, Kirigan finds himself wondering if he should embrace the fact Y/N seems to be a very touchy person or if he should set some boundaries. Despite the shiver that runs down his spine, he allows her hand to fully take his as he closes his fingers around hers.

"I should have seen it coming. I'm far too used to betrayal."

"I'd never do that", she pauses. "I'd never betray you. I'd never break your trust."

Her responses are quick, so innocent and naïve that he can’t help but feel guilty about every moment he spends near her. No one should send a doe eyed beauty into the clutches of a beast so easily, yet he has no desire to force her to leave.

"Don't make promises you can't keep."

Smiling, her entire face lights up. It’s a true delight to witness so early in the morning after a long night of nightmares he faced.

“Do not worry, General. I have every intention on proving myself to you.”

Glancing at their hands, her smile widens. She spent years wishing for this and now that it’s happening she can’t seem to believe it’s real.

“The sun will come up soon”, he changes the topic.

Y/N fears he might leave and her hand would be back at her side as she watches his retreating figure, but when he speaks again her heart dances in her chest.

“Would you like to watch the sunrise with me?”

Inhaling sharply, she nods. “Very much so.”

Unfortunately for them, someone else couldn’t sleep that night and they had seen just enough for a terrible plan to be born.

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A/N - So, I’m definitely going to play with the books here and twist some things to fit the storyline I have in mind. There might be some spoilers, so read with caution. I debated on making more than a one shot for this and taking on some ideas I have for Darkling but also Nikolai, so I’m not sure how long this will be just yet.

Tags: @deceivedeer @evyiione @measshaw

Part 3

#the darkling x reader #the darkling #aleksander kirigan x reader #aleksander morozova x reader #aleksander morozova #aleksander kirigan #general kirigan x reader #general kirigan #shadown and bone

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kim-miyeon · 3 years

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Hell Above-Epilogue

PAIRINGS: Hwang Hyunjin x Female Reader

WARNINGS: MafiaAU! 18+ Content Reader Discretion Is Advised. Graphic scenes, torture, implications of death.

WORD COUNT: 1.1K

Previous |

May These Noises Startle You In Your Sleep Tonight

The dripping sounds of the water splashing against the concrete from the edges of the sunken room of the little shack was all that could be distinguished besides the soft breathing of the man who sat in the chair. Hair disheveled, dirt stained upon his face, mixed with sweat and blood. Three men stood by, cold stone and watching the man and heavily armed. A slow but sharp clap broke into sound as the man slowly brought his head up to see the source of the new sound. Eyes widening in surprise at the woman who clapped slowly each time she approached the man. Her long dark hair streaming down the sides of her face, accentuating the sharpness of her eyes and the piercing cold look to her face. Much like her mother, he thought.

The woman continuously clapped until she was now face to face with the man in the chair. The only thing keeping him in place was himself as no restraints were placed upon himself. She smirked and looked down before breathing in to speak.

“Hwang Hyun-Woo, you are being charged with your involvement with your son Hwang Hyunjin and his wife Hwang Y/N and their disappearance. How do you plea?” The whole accusation rolled off her lips in disgust as she felt the urge to maintain her sense of peace while speaking the names of those she despises.

“Yeji..” HyunWoo mumbled watching his daughter. Events of what occurred earlier played in his head as he began to understand the meaning of why he was in this position. The information he had given Y/N and Hyunjin. The news of your grandfather’s death set off a fire, one bigger that HyunWoo could not put out. So it burned. And the once quiet organization that was known as the network, emerged in the place of your grandfather.

But it was different.

Because before this moment, HyunWoo had been informed of an allegiance between the two families above and below.

So while you and Hyunjin formed an alliance with each other in the light, the network formed their allies in the dark.

Where Hwang and Lee blood saw eye to eye for the first time and the mission was to make sure that a child born of the blood of both never saw the light of day. That you and Hyunjin were punished for the crimes you two had committed against your families. And with that information, came the name of the new leader of the network.

His only daughter, Hwang Yeji.

“I asked..” Yeji began as HyunWoo failed to realize that in his deep thought Yeji had acquired a crowbar that she had gripped tightly as she swung back and struck her father in the knees with.

HyunWoo yelped out in great pain at his new injuries, and Yeji flipped her hair back and she smiled and continued, “how do you plea?”

“GUILTY!” HyunWoo cried out and Yeji squinted her eyes at him as he held his knees. She clicked her tongue a bit before she swung the crow bar up and struck her father in the back and he shot up in pain as she walked closer.

“A crime like this is subjected to torture and eventual death.” She softly said to him and he nodded in his agony and she scoffed.

“You already fucking know.” She spat as she walked back to face him.

“Tell me where they are, father and I can spare your life.” Yeji stated sharply and HyunWoo gritted through his teeth trying to find a breath to speak.

“I.. DON’T… KNOW.”

“BULLSHIT. You're protecting them and I know you are.”

HyunWoo knew where this was headed. He knew that he would be the first person to ask about your whereabouts. He also knew that Chan hid you two. And he knew that he’s the only one who had that information. And if the dream was to bring peace and happiness to his son, HyunWoo knew what needed to be done.

Yeji grew angry and she looked at the guards. “Proceed”

One of the guards turned and grabbed a metal stick that had been placed in the small fire behind them. Blazing red as the tip indicating that the metal had reached an extreme point of heat. The other two guards walked to HyunWoo and held his arms back, ripping open his shirt.

“What are you… No… NO!” HyunWoo screamed and the man brought the metal over to HyunWoo’s chest and placed it down, a sizzle sounding off as HyunWoo screamed at the pain and the man pulled the metal back ripping the skin and looked at the branding that Yeji issued.

HyunShiks cries and pain felt like joy to Yeji’s ear. Years and years of being neglected by this man, and always placing second in his heart only led Yeji to hate. No remorse for what she was about to do to him.

“Is it worth it, father?”

HyunWoo gritted his teeth as he was still held back and trying to get through his pain.

“Is Hyunjin really worth the torture you’ll endure. Your death?”

HyunWoo groaned and tried to speak.

“He is the heir… of my family…”

“But he has left you.” Yeji replied quickly.

“No.” HyunWoo retorted and Yeji sighed, closing her eyes.

“Just once, I would have liked to see you turn on your son. Perhaps if you had shown me what you shown him, we could have avoided this.” Yeji looked at her fingertips and shook her head.

“You were an immature girl. I had tried to raise you to work side by side but you were self centered and cared for the glamour that our life provided. Hyunjin never thought of himself. Only how to better his family. You could not have led this family.” HyunWoospoke a bit stronger and Yeji smirked.

“You’re right.” Yeji spoke and looked at her father, “Which is why I lead the network now.”

Yeji turned and began to walk before stopping and turning her head slightly over her shoulder.

“I hope your son is worth it. Take him.”

The men lifted HyunWoo up and Yeji heard grunts and resistance from HyunWoo as the men beat him to be obedient. Yeji turned to the last man and he looked back at her.

“Make sure he’s hung high. In the city. I want the world to know. I want to find those two.” Yeji felt the fuel of the idea of broadcasting her fathers death for all to see. A wake up call to his beloved son and a warning to those who cross her path.

“As you wish, Madam Hwang.”

To be continued...

A/N : heheheh THAT’S IT. No more surprise chapters and what not. THIS IS THE END. Thank you lovelies hope you enjoy our epilogue and it leaves you craving for more as usual. As always let me know what you think. I’m on vacation at the moment so responding back may take a hot second! But I love you so much see you soon with EVERLASTING!

Taglist: @hyunfeji @zenzedana @datura-inoxia @ninjaleeknow @beethiin @hyunsxle @hwangful @huntressfrost25 @exonations @p0t4t0don14ll l @beaann @minaamhh

#lee felix #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin smut #kim seungmin #seo changbin #yang jeongin #bang chan #han jisung #skz smut #skz hyunjin #stray kids fan fic #stray kids imagines #stray kids smut #hell above series

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feather-dancer · 3 years

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Tales of Arcadia Fanfic Recommendations - Part 6

I do admittedly have things left to read in my tabs I’d normally prefer to clear out before posting one of these but when you sail past the 30 mark I think it’s about time to get it out my drafts, yeah? Most importantly means this will be out before Rise of the Titans comes and emotionally destroys us all.

Needless to say soon as this is posted I give it 24 hours before 7 starts, we’ve got some amazing writers in this fandom and there’s a couple I juuust want one more chapter before I feel I can recommend it. Hope you find something you enjoy :)

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5

If at all interested in my own writing you can find it here!

General Trollhunters

Romeo, Question Mark - Jim is figuring himself out and has a question for Toby though nervous of how he might react. Honestly the support Aromantic’s need when they’re either questioning or coming out, Toby is a gem.

By The Book - After his dad left changing his world Jim had moments in his life where he needed to wrangle things in a way he could understand them with some moral support along the way that wasn’t there to do it for him, just give a light nudge the right direction. Comes with light Jilaire fluff.

That I Could Fear a Door - Jim was pulled from the Darklands whole but you cannot escape the trauma of your experiences quite so easily. It will take a little time, a lot of patience and perhaps the right ear to listen but with it can come hope.

Lest Back the Awful Door Should Spring - Sequel to the above, Jim’s capture to be sentenced by the tribunal echoes his experiences in the Darklands a little too closely sending all his careful progress hurtling back in one fell swoop. Is it any wonder he chose a false freedom that Unkar offered?

Façade - The confirmation that Mr. Strickler is not the man you thought he was probably was not going to be an easy one, Jim’s thoughts sit ill after that dinner.

Fashion - All changelings take root somewhere in a human life before their changeling one succeeds it and Nomura is no different. She felt love she could not understand and the ache of loss will follow for as she meanders through this world by the Whisper Man’s orders and her own volition of needing to belong somewhere. She will try her hand with the humans and the trolls, paint the road with blood as much as indulging herself with the arts and even risking her heart until everything leads her to Arcadia’s doorstep.

In Deep Trouble - What happened in the Deep during Season 2?

Aftermath - Just after the finale of Season 2 the Market trolls are forced to run leaving their homes behind and follow the Trollhunter they had dismissed so many times into the great unknown before them.

Don’t think - Jim weighs up his options and attempts to settle his thoughts before making the final decision whether or not to go through with using Merlin’s potion.

Nocturne for a Trollhunter - Jim learns a new hobby that gives him another way to relax that doesn’t involve cooking, one that follows him beyond Arcadia.

The Asteroid - A rare 3Below fic for my lists if centered on a certain hedge witch and Wizard. The end of the world is coming but not by Morgana’s hand and Merlin certainly never warned Douxie about it so if this truly is the end then it’s the best time to bring your loved ones close so you won’t be going out alone. Yes it’s Zouxie.

A bright future so it seemed (but that light grew a little less bright) - Claire’s parents (Or more specifically Ophelia) set her on the perfectionist’s path early, even a little slip can feel like the end of the world

Rest, Master Jim - You might be able to escape the Darklands but you cannot escape the consequences of being trapped there for so long as easily.

General Wizards

Not Found - So why did neither Douxie or Archie find the two remaining changelings in Arcadia or bring back the sole Akiridion when Merlin asked?

Place of Power - A lovely bit of shameless Zouxie fluff in that brief period the gang was at Hex Tech before the plot came to get them.

Bitter Water - Only two of the old team remain in Arcadia and those were Jim and Krel, the rest having left to pursue educational pursuits and in one particular case kept away for Nari’s safety. For the Akiridion he is still here with reminders of his heritage and what it took to have this life on earth chasing him all the way. It’s always good to have friends with a listening ear and hot chocolate.

Together, Dearest - The very act of resting is a potential invitation for nightmares and Nari is no different but when once more in the waking world you will find you’re not alone, there are hugs available.

The Night Belongs To Us - Lovingly described Skraelroc fluff during their long hunt for Merlin and the strangeness that can be observed on clearer nights.

Nineteen Plus Nine Hundred, Give Or Take - 900 years is a long time by anyone’s standards but perhaps during that Douxie can figure out how to truly live.

Twelfth Century Wizard, Twenty-First Century Witch - The follow up to the above, when you’ve lived a long and interesting life things can still pop up in odd ways... Even if you haven’t quite mastered the sacred art of texting yet.

ERAS TÚ (It was you). | Tales of Arcadia One-Shot - Would you want to live forever if it meant leaving everyone behind? Jilaire.

the only way for us to go - From his rescue from the streets of Camelot to the eventual guardian of this realm, Douxie has come a very, very long way. Through the frustrations of trying to learn magic, the belittling of others, the faith of Morgana and the power of music his experiences throughout 900 years truly make him what he is.

lay down your head - Even the mightiest can be plagued with the not so humble migraine. Skraelroc fluff.

Stricklake

Merry Christmas, Doctor Lake - Some Christmas gifts are worth going all out for and getting your friends and family to help out to make it extra special.

Grocery Run - After the incident where Merlin dismissed Strickler for being a changeling it is time for an excuse to get out the house for a bit and have a frank discussion about their relationship, the future beyond the incoming battle and lingering insecurities of two worlds colliding.

Alternate Universe

Fashionista, How Do You Look? - An AU that very much takes the term very literally here where everyone is human, Skrael, Bellroc and Nari are fashion designers plus many other ToA characters we know and love are either in the industry in some way themselves or on the fringes because of their jobs/who they know. Sometimes you work with catty bitches and want to kick back and watch the fireworks you know? Contains friends to almost to enemies to friends to maybe we’ll get our shit together this time but the odds aren’t great Skraelroc. There’s also a Zouxie oneshot in this collection that was a gift for meee because of the corner I dug in the AU.

Atlas, Fallen - When a star falls from the sky it is a punishment so when Atlas suddenly finds himself amongst the humans he had observed from above for countless ages in a flesh body like theirs he fears his Mother is punishing him and unable understand what he did wrong. While trying to find his way back home he gets a crash course in what it’s like to be human making friends along the way. Slow burn Jilaire.

she once was a true love of mine - I put this under the AU section even though it wavers between that and not, a mixture of classical Arthurian mythos and the glimpses of the Camelot in Tales of Arcadia where one kingdom collapses from war another strengthens by taking their princess as queen. While Arthur might have turned her head once it is the sibling that seems to be catching Gwen’s eye of late as much as her thoughts. Morgwen but in the department of pining.

Pulled From The Ocean - AU doesn’t quite fit this one but it feels a bit more fitting than general. A little oneshot snapshot of Jim living with deafness and the contrast of one world that falls easily into supporting that whereas the other tries their best but it makes the slip ups sting even more.

you are a stranger here, why have you come? - Fate is a funny old thing, something happens a little bit differently such as a father not leaving alone and everything can change so drastically. Nari’s fondness for children strikes again and this time it involves a 5-year old Jim Lake Jr. ending in the Order’s care and their foray into found family. Somehow Jim is even more of a disaster and as likely surmised from the fact I write this trope myself I am very weak for it.

go into your local forest and you will find a friend and a boy - Toby was unlucky in the friend department and by the time he is ten he still feels miserable and lonely having to endure Steve’s increasing bullying all the while. This is of course until he finds a blue half-troll hiding out the daylight hours munching cans in the local woods...

#trollhunters #3below #Wizards #ToAWizards #Tales of Arcadia

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sometimesrosy · 4 years

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Rosy that's fantastic news for your book!! I'm really happy for you. And just seeing "bellarke consum their love and even have grandkids" makes my heart full. Bob and Eliza said tthey were disappointed that 1/the charaters couldn't have kids in the end and that 2/ there was no hope. I totally agree with their interpretation of the end. Some people said the ending was super cool, and inkeeping with the whole show, and somehow hopeful. HOW WAS IT HOPEFUL?? the human race gets wiped out...

People said the ending was “super cool?” How?

Wait. I need to wrap my head around that. What are they looking at that seems super cool?

I actually don’t have a problem of the concept of transcendence that they worked on all season, nor Cadogan, the fake-spiritual, love-your-fellow-man-but-also-sacrifice-them-because-they-mean-nothing cult leader who favored his daughter, used his son, tossed his exwife into the apocalypse and killed Becca because she had power and knowledge beyond him.

Like, that could have been super cool if they’d kept him the villain, the antagonist, but instead they made him the protagonist who was, somehow, right about transcendence as if it wasn’t just another fucking doomsday cult that wanted humanity to end. I mean, it WAS just another fucking doomsday cult that wanted humanity to end, and the aliens vacuumed up humanity and allowed for no dissent. Here, have your perfect happy transcendence...but your body dies, the world ends, and humanity is gone. That is EXACTLY what ALIE did, and she was a villain. Perhaps a well meaning villain, but a terrifying villain.

How did the SAME story, get switched around to being some sort of victory for the state of humanity? How did the end of humanity, no chance to continue on, because they removed their ability to have children and carry on?

Why couldn’t they just fucking stay on The Ring if that was going to happen. At least they could have a small community up there. But no. Without the info that our heroes brought, they wouldn’t have reached transcendence.

That wasn’t transcendence. It was judgement day. Transcendence means you have worked your way to a higher state, and yes, it might be condescending and elitist, but you at least worked for it. And it wasn’t really a judgement day because they just took everybody, despite the fact that those idiots were fighting for no fucking reason. It was a PUNISHMENT day for Clarke, one of the only people who was actually TRYING to be better and do better.

What was cool? The way the aliens brought back the people they cared for? Yes, that was cool. It wasn’t them of course, but some people would be impressed by the alien dressed up in the costume of their fav. I could see that being considered super cool. But honestly... that’s a story line that would have worked better in season 3 and in fact DID work remarkably well in season 3 when Lxa showed up in the COL. And it was ACTUALLY her, not some facsimile.

Was it cool to take away the agency of the hero of the story who we’ve been following for 7 years? Was it cool to erase the personality and motivation of our dual protagonist? Ok. So lets say you didn’t love Clarke or Bellamy. Octavia’s character was erased and she didn’t have a thing to do until the final battle, and then she got a romance that frankly made me uncomfortable but that’s taste. Echo was erased and she didn’t have a thing to do until the final battle. Raven was also erase although she got to be the one to convince the aliens that they weren’t totally awful beings. That was cool, but it seemed like a patch put on top of a story that had failed. The story being about how Clarke saves humanity, and Bellamy saves Clarke, which has been THE STORY FOR SIX YEARS. We spent six years building up a team with these two heroes who have been through so much shit and made the CHOICE to be the good guys, and in the end, Bellamy gives his power over to a charismatic obsessive leader (also happened in season 3 with Pike who was a great character and FAR better than Cadogan and actual sympathetic awful villain who thought he was saving his people while doing evil.) And Clarke actually becomes THE BAD GUY, who loses her sense of reason and commits violence due to loving too much-- a really tired, misogynistic storyline. Give women power and they go crazy. The hysterical woman. THIS DOES NOT FIT WITH CLARKE GRIFFIN. Also, we saw her go through that trauma of fear for her daughter, and she DID NOT GO CRAZY. Ruthless, yes. And then she worked through what she had done and recognized she was wrong and promised not to do that again. I honestly don’t know why she did it again. Even if Bellamy betrayed her again, it didn’t make sense that she couldn’t work through it.

They had to keep the two characters apart in order have that ending happen. Why? Because Clarke acts as the center to Bellamy and Bellamy acts as the Center to Clarke. This season is the story of the FAILURE of the duo protagonists of the show. They separated them and broke them individually, and this meant they were unable to save the universe.

Is it cool to make a show about heroes and then destroy them in the last season? But frame that destruction and the end of humanity as a VICTORY and positive ending? Maybe if you hate those characters and humanity and think there’s no hope for us anyway, so lets just burn it down.

Oh wait. I’m trying to figure out what’s SUPER COOL about that ending.

The purple sparkly aliens. Ok. How is that cool? That there’s actually an omnipotent alien out there that has the ability to just snap a whole race of people out of existence or into their big ole stew pot of consciousness.

1. Why? 2. How? 3. Where did that power come from? 4. Who are they? 5. What do they get out of erasing races and basically eating them?

Okay, putting aside the questions about how these omnipotent gods aliens came to be... is it possible they can be see as “super cool?” Let me go through.

1. Omnipotent aliens going through the universe, deciding when life forms were “ready” to be judged and then either wiping them out totally, or wiping them out totally but accepting their consciousnesses into their massive consciousness where they don’t want any “bad” lifeforms, which makes them now a higher lifeform but not at all what they once were.

Cool/Not Cool. I dunno. Kind of seems like some sort of puritanical god who willy nilly decides if people are worthy of heaven. Will He, Nil He. That’s what that means. If we’re gonna get aliens at the last minute, I want aliens. I want to know who they are and what’s up with them. THAT’S the story. Those alien guys. Instead, the story was about the flotsam and jetsam at the end of humanity, either getting swept up into the god-form in the sky or being pounded to bits on the rocks. The heroes of our story have no say in what happens. They’re toast either way. Oh you mean we can be erased into nothing or erased into your hive mind? The only way this is cool is if you like nihilism. Which, yeah, some people do. NONE of their struggle over the past six years meant a damn thing. None of it. Their beliefs, their sacrifices, their mistakes, their heroism. It al reduces down to whether those sparkly purple aliens like them or not. That’s some bullshit.

Not cool.

2. Cadogan. Cult leader from the first apocalypse who conned the bulk of his followers and left them shady shelters that let them die. Kept the good stuff for his “best” followers. Paternalistic, obsessive, ruthless, megalomaniac framing his leadership and personality as “Love for Humanity,” while discarding every human who he deemed unworthy. Including his own family. Actually. Pretty cool. AS A VILLAIN. Ending up at his cult colony in space hundreds of years later with thousands of years of development in time dilation. Cool. They’re creepy but make some bit of sense. Ok. Waking him up and then making him this fucking GURU who preaches love for humanity but sacrifices 99.9% of humanity all so that he can reach his mythical transcendence which is really the eradication of all humanity.... well, that’s actually cool. AS A VILLAIN. But somehow in the last season, Cadogan turned out to be the one who was right all along, and the story seemed to accept HIS concept that transcendence was the best thing that could happen to them, because humanity sucks and they always fight so they should be erase by paternalistic omnipotent gods. CADOGAN’S choices were the ones that were enacted. Bellamy gave his will to Cadogan and made CADOGAN’S choices, not his own. Never before in all the seasons did Bellamy “need it all to make sense.” He fucking KNEW it made no sense and he didn’t want to make those choices any more. And he did it to be a better person and make better choices and keep his family safe. The excuse they used for our hero to side with Cadogan did not fit. CADOGAN became the protagonist in the second half of the season. CADOGAN made all the choices that furthered the story. Our heroes were reduced to either brainwashed followers or ineffective, hysterical messes, our really not wanting anything to do with anyone’s salvation and just interested in their love life. It left Raven, Echo and Octavia to scramble around in the end and try to convince the purple sparkly gods not to erase them out of existence, just erase them and swallow them. :/ Cadogan as protagonist bringing humanity to “transcendence.”, Our supposed heroes as useless flotsam and jetsam floating around on the wreck of humanity whose choices and actions make no goddamn difference.

NOT COOL.

3. Character Storylines

Clarke’s storyline. NOT COOL. Bellamy’s storyline. NOT COOL. Octavia’s storyline. S.A COOL. S.B NOT COOL. Raven’s storyline. COOL. Echo’s storyline. S.A COOL. S.B NOT COOL. Murphy’s storyline. SUPER COOL. Emori’s storyline. SUPER COOL. Indra’s storyline. COOL. Hope’s storyline. S.A COOL S.B NOT COOL. Jordan’s storyline. NOT COOL. Diyoza’s storyline. COOL Gabriel’s storyline. COOL. Madi’s storyline. NOT COOL The grounders. Fucking morons. You really shouldn’t make a whole culture’s choices based around being absolutely too stupid to be allowed to live. EVEN when you get past xenophobia and learn about who they are and why they do things. NOT COOL. The culty people. Cool set up and world building. The society was dumb and had too many plot holes. MIDDLING SHEIDHEDA. NOT COOL. pointless plot device just used to make everyone forget everything they learned from 6 seasons. CADOGAN. COOL AS A VILLAIN. But he was the protagonist. So the ruination of the entire show and universe they created. NOT COOL.

SEASON A COOL OVERALL. SEASON B NOT COOL. TOTAL SEASON NOT COOL

I think if people think the ending was supercool, they’ve never heard of a deus ex machina, and how that’s a BAD ending that is really just a cheat because you can’t figure out a way to get out of the story mess you made.

I really hate post apocalyptic fiction that ends with no hope for humanity. JR kept telling us there was hope. I mean narratively, not in interviews, although he did that too, and in the last half season, he switched it around so they wouldn’t have hope, not even just our heroes, but all humanity. It was a bait and switch I did not appreciate. And I’m not talking about ships, I’m talking about the essential genre of the show.

PS. thanks. I love my book and I hope someone picks it up so you all can read it. It also has elements of Han/Leia and another couple, Brashen/Althea from the Live Ship Traders book by Robin Hobb. They are, however, less traumatized than the characters in The 100.

#RANT lol

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pjo-whore · 3 years

Text

Percy Jackson At Hogwarts

Chapter 1: Wizards Are What Now?

Look, Percy never wanted to be half-blood.

Being a half-blood – the child of a mortal human and a god – was dangerous. It was scary. Most of the time, on top of having neglectful parents and a dysfunctional and incestuous family that wanted you dead for petty reasons, it got you killed in other painful, nasty ways.

There wasn’t a day that went by where Percy didn’t feel envious of the kids who didn’t have to deal with the mythological world.

Percy Jackson was seventeen years old. Until a month ago, he was fighting a war against a Greek primoradial, the Earth Mother incarnate, Gaea – also known as his great grandmother. Before that, he fought in a war against his grandfather, Kronos, Greek Titan of Time, who wanted to overthrow the Olympian gods and take over the world and the Empire State Building. Somewhere in between he also found time to spend a month in literal Greek hell, Tartarus, who also happened to be his great grandfather, and who also tried to murder him on sight.

Was Percy a troubled kid?

Yeah. You could say that.

And right now, he was still trying to clean up the mess from the Second Giant War.

Now that there wasn’t a war looming overhead, the gods’ recent exploits were coming to light, and new demigods were popping up everywhere, everyday. The number of demigods skyrocketed now that they were actively searching and not waiting for them to stumble into Camp on their own.

But that also meant there were new kids to train, more demigods for the gods to claim, and less time to recoup from the recent war.

Less than a month had passed since Gaea’s defeat.

The days were filled with helping each other get back on their feet, rebuilding the camps, and trying to keep the fragile peace in order.

There was still a lot to sort out, and the gods weren’t as hands-on as most would like. There was conflict building up. News spread about how the gods helped the seven demigods of the prophecy fight the giants, because a giant couldn’t be killed by a mortal alone, and this made many jealous and angry. The gods could pop in for a single battle when it was their own ass on the line, but not when a group of their own literal kids needed to rebuild their home that was dedicated to the gods?

Besides Chiron and Dionysus, the only god to physically stay at Camp Half-Blood following the battle against Gaea due to his punishment from Zeus, there were no other adults. The oldest demigods were barely twenty. Despite age, most, if not all, the demigods looked to the prophecy demigods for guidance and leadership.

Annabeth, Jason, Percy, Piper, and Nico.

The brunt of the responsibility fell on the daughter of Athena, and the son of Poseidon. They led their Camp through the Second Titan War, and now they were survivors of another war.

Things weren’t easy for a long time.

The Camp was completely ravaged.

During Gaea’s seize of the Greek demigod Camp, the cabins were burned by the monsters and toppled by Gaea’s massive earthquakes. Not even the Big House – the staple of Camp Half-Blood, the oldest building on the lot – survived the attack.

Camp Jupiter didn’t fare any better, but their buildings had been more structurally sound, thicker and built of material that didn’t burn and crumble. Enough buildings were still standing well enough to inhabit.

Everything had to be rebuilt for Camp Half-Blood.

Nobody could be sent home – to their mortal homes, with mortal parents, and a mortal life, mortal being the slang for “normal” among the mythological world – despite the new lack of residency at Camp Half-Blood. Kids needed to heal. There were nightmares and PTSD. Trauma and concussions. People to be counted, bodies missing, some so mauled they were impossible to identify. Several bodies were unearthed from the ground, sucked in by Gaea’s attack and suffocated beneath the dirt.

Shrouds were made for those who could be identified, the unknown buried in unmarked graves to be remembered. Those who were missing were given honorary shrouds, unknowing if they were in one of the unmarked graves. The Romans were unable to do their traditional funeral rituals, transporting the bodies all the way to Camp Jupiter, and were burned in shrouds alongside the Greeks.

Mortal parents simply couldn’t help.

They couldn’t fathom their children being in a war.

There were fears that demigods would be taken away from Camp Half-Blood by their mortal parents, horrified at what their kids were put through. Chiron especially worried about demigods who would be kept from Camp by parents, forcing them to live alone without any mythological world support, to defend against monsters on their own, without any magic or special weapons.

So, among the remaining able-bodied demigods, Greeks alongside Romans worked together to erect the new Big House. Tents from the Romans’ siege on Camp Half-Blood were gifted to the Greeks to provide residency until the new cabins were built, while the Romans started to march back home.

During all the chaos, Percy didn’t have any time to sit down and process all that happened.

The whole Camp looked up to him as a leader, but Percy didn’t feel very strong or wise.

He only felt bitter.

There were some who walked by and whispered “lucky” and “prophecy.”

Some who stopped talking as soon as he walked into the room.

Those who acted like he wasn’t even human, just some untouchable hero; but they ostracized him.

Percy was aware that he was one of the so-called “lucky” campers; lucky being compared, because at least he walked away with all his limbs intact.

It didn’t feel like he was lucky.

He wasn’t unscathed. He bore many scars, visible and not. His time in Tartarus was an impossible nightmare on bad nights, and a shadow on good days.

Percy was learning that he had triggers.

He was learning Annabeth did, too.

Neither liked using elevators.

Annabeth’s expression went tight when Percy used his powers around her. She turned away, sometimes completely leaving the area.

She got antsy in the dark, a childhood fear resurfaced.

There were other little things; at night when she had nightmares she would toss and turn in bed, sweating through her clothes and sheets, despite the breeze being cold. Sometimes Annabeth would completely avoid Percy, acting snappish, always coming back and apologizing in the end, and they would hold each other like they were hanging over the chasm again.

Annabeth refused to talk about what she saw in her nightmares, and Percy never pushed. He was one of the only people who could understand what she was going through.

Sometimes all they could do was sit and try to drown out the memories of The Pit.

Percy’s triggers were different.

He developed a deep-seated hatred for empousai. The moment he saw one, his body started to shake with adrenaline and nerves, fire flashing before his eyes.

Percy could no longer look at the stars without feeling a deep loss, tears pricking at his eyes.

He prayed to his father, Poseidon, more often, as if trying to re-establish his connection to the sea, to re-establish his connection to the Overworld, as if that could cleanse him of what happened in The Pit. As if he could wash away the touch of The Pit.

Percy’s nightmares were always blurry and violent. He wouldn’t snap awake like others. He didn’t startle or jerk upright. He didn’t make a single noise. He would wake silently, and lay there in bed, eyes open and unseeing, that shattered glass feeling he always dreaded at the bottom of his stomach. After he could never go back to sleep, and he would get up and sit on the tile in his cabin for hours and look in the mirror and wait for the image to change. He would wait for it to reflect what he feared, though it never did.

“Okay, so, how big is the situation? Is it like, ‘Aphrodite lost her hairbrush again’ big? Or is it ‘Gaea has risen again’ big?”

Annabeth frowned. “I don’t know. All Chiron said was that a god needed our help – and I don’t know about you, but I don’t like the sound of that.” She chewed her bottom lip in thought as they headed toward the Big House. They had been asked to attend a private meeting with Chiron, outside of the camp counselor meeting. “He sounded serious, too. Whichever god it is must be an asshole to seek help so soon after the war.”

She wasn’t wrong, Percy thought.

Jason was appointed Pontifex Maximus in Camp Jupiter, and as such he was responsible of advising the praetors, ruling over the Camp Jupiter counsel, and overseeing the work and prayers to the minor gods. His promise to Kymopoleia to bring worship and awareness for all minor gods became his fulltime job, and it was ruled that most gods must go through Jason to request help from either demigod camp.

A god asking for help directly after a full-scale war? Using Chiron as their connection? It was a hit below the belt, and it made Percy frustrated.

A few demigods raised their heads in greeting as Percy and Annabeth passed by the arts and crafts center. Conner and Travis Stoll, who were trying to build bombs with bits and pieces from the forge, took one look at Percy, then at Annabeth, and wiggled their brows suggestively. Percy unsubtly stuck them the bird, and they started to laugh their assess off.

The Big House was smaller now, after being rebuilt.

What could be scavenged from the attic was saved, but most of it was lost. Magical artifacts and ancient texts were burned and crushed. Now the Big House served mostly as the infirmary, aside from the drop-by medicinal tent near the Apollo cabin, where more medical supplies were. The Apollo and Hephaestus cabins had been the first to be rebuilt because they gave needed services.

Aside from the infirmary, the Big House had a commons area for meetings, and housed a kitchen, bathroom, and bedroom.

Checking in the commons area, Chiron was in his wheelchair. Nico was sitting at the beloved ping pong table, which had somehow survived the siege on Camp, and Thalia was sitting backwards on a chair by the new counselor table, which no one ever used.

Percy sat next to Nico and twirled the ping pong paddle between his hands, Annabeth taking her usual seat during counsel meetings.

Chiron looked tense.

“Now, I know that only a month has passed since the end of the Second Giant War, but –”

The air practically sparked with the collective tension that built.

“– a new quest has been issued.”

Annabeth leaned forward in her seat, interested. “Chiron, you can’t have an official quest without a prophecy. And the last time I checked; the Oracle of Delphi wasn’t working right now.”

“Well, it’s a good thing this isn’t a quest from the Greek pantheon, then.”

Percy cocked a brow and shared a look with Annabeth.

“The Roman pantheon doesn’t have an oracle, and their last augur exploded himself, so –”

“It’s a friend of Lady Hecate, the Triple Goddess.”

Dead silence.

“The Triple Goddess?” Percy parroted. “I don’t follow.”

“The Triple Goddess is of the Old Religion, once practiced in Europe hundreds of years ago by the druids and magic users in general. It belonged to Albion, a land of five kingdoms, before it split into the United Kingdom and Ireland.”

“What does that have to do with us?” Nico said.

“All those years ago, in the middle ages, after the golden age of the Greek pantheon, the Old Religion became very popular in Albion. Magic was something that anyone could practice even if they weren’t born with the innate talent, with the proper training. Through the ages, though, the religion declined, and the New Religion rose and became the staple. While the Old Religion relied on the magic of the land, sea, and sky; the New Religion relied on your inner magical core, and so not everyone could do this new magic.”

Chiron shifted in his wheelchair and pulled out a small stack of photos, but when he tossed them onto the ping pong table, the demigods saw that they held moving pictures.

In one photo, it showed a person standing over a boiling cauldron, on the wooden table beside them, old parchment with a quill that moved by itself, writing on the paper. The picture moved slightly, the character stirring the cauldron. Then the animated picture reset and repeated.

In another photo, two persons stood facing each other, holding purposefully shaped wooden sticks, pointing them at each other. Bright lights exploded from the tips of the sticks, and their robes and hair swayed with strong winds.

In the last photo, a person was wearing a uniform of sorts, with a helmet and pads on their knees and elbows. They held an old broomstick between their knees, and metal hinges held on the back close to the bristles, like a hitch for the feet. In the picture, the person grabbed onto the end of the broomstick and shot into the air, like magic. It gave image to the stereotype of witches flying on brooms in the night.

“The Old Religion died out because the land lost its magic. Only select spots held magical creatures and natural magic. Magic was only preserved through the New Religion, and those who practiced the New Religion became witches and wizards. The lot of them went into hiding and created their own society – the wizarding world.”

“In today’s day and age, magic is passed down through genetics. And sometimes, those with magic cores can be born to those with no magic at all. The population of magic users stays stable, and there is balance in the world of magic …” Chiron winced. “Mostly.”

“But these people have lost contact with the Triple Goddess. They no longer worship or prayer to her. They rely solely on their own magic, not what comes naturally from the land, like in the Old Religion. And recently, war has passed for them. The Second Wizarding War ended four months ago. And this has severely depleted their resources and magic. There is a school for the magic users, used as the stronghold during the war, and now the wizarding world’s hero is returning to finish his studies.”

“His moniker is ‘The Boy Who Lived,’ and he’s called Harry Potter. But he was only a child – is only a child. He and his peers are children who have been used to fight a war that they shouldn’t have had to fight.” Chiron looked very grim.

Percy bitterly sank back in his seat.

“We were kids, too.”

Chiron sighed. “This war has thrown the balance of magic out of whack. The natural magic has been depleted for too long, and there are those who are actively tipping the balance to sabotage the magic for their own gain. It’s suspected that the dark forces from the war – Death Eaters – are still operating in the shadows. It is because of this that the Triple Goddess has called upon you as heroes to help restore the wizarding world and save magic.”

“You would only be obligated to attend the school of Hogwarts until you uncovered the source of oppression over magic, so the Death Eaters can be caught and restrained. If you choose to accept, of course.”

Percy eyed him sharply. “You say that as if we have a choice.”

Chiron pursed his lips. “Despite what you think, yes, you do.”

“But this is from a whole other pantheon,” Nico said. “A group of magical people who don’t even believe in the goddess who brought about their magic. Why do we have to fix this?”

More silence.

Chiron looked down on them unapologetically.

Percy shifted uncomfortably, looking over at Annabeth. Chiron seriously expected them to just up and leave Camp for this quest. Barely a month had passed since their own war, and they were getting by as they were. Percy didn’t believe Camp Half-Blood could afford to lose any support or cabin counselors, even for a short period of time.

“So, let me get this straight,” Percy said. “Basically – if I just ignore the little prologue, you gave there – you want us to go to this magical school, on orders of a goddess that’s almost faded, stalk a kid, and watch out for people who like to try to rob the world of magic – magic, which they use themselves.”

Chiron looked pained. “No, I don’t believe they’re purposefully robbing the world of magic.”

“Oh, well that clears everything up.” Percy threw his hands in the air.

“Regardless, you understand what’s being asked. This is a quest, technically coming from Hecate, as a favour for the Triple Goddess. It’s valid as a hero’s quest. It was decided it would be best that you go undercover as transfer students and secretly watch over Harry Potter, the target for most Death Eaters. Your goal is to prevent trouble before it gets serious, though I doubt that will be hard, as trouble always manages to find you –”

“Wait, hold on,” Percy said, still hung-up on the quest. “How are we supposed to fit in at a school for the magically gifted? None of us are wizards.”

“Oh, that is something that can easily be fixed,” Chiron said, dismissing the problem.

“Excuse me?!” Thalia said.

“Hecate considered this quest from the Triple Goddess for a long time before coming to me.”

Percy rolled his eyes. Out of everyone in the room, he had the least faith in the gods. They never gave him anything to have faith in.

Annabeth narrowed her eyes at the camp director. “And how exactly does Hecate plan on ‘fixing’ the problem? I don’t see any obvious solutions. We’re demigods, not wizards.”

Chiron shifted awkwardly. “She has not shared that with me. I have only gotten the request that you undertake this quest for the Old Religion, and that she will visit to prepare you.”

Percy felt like grinding his teeth. “Oh, so she just expected us to accept the quest. She never considered us refusing? Why can’t the wizards fix their own problem?” Chiron said nothing. “Camp is still in shambles – we don’t even have all the cabins rebuilt yet! We can’t leave, not now. There’s still too much work to do here, and too many new demigods to watch over and protect. And have you even considered that maybe we don’t want to go on this quest? That maybe we want a break? My entire childhood was prophecy after prophecy, quest after quest, serving the gods. We’re under no obligation to do this. You can tell Hecate that she can stick her magic wands up –”

He didn’t get the chance to finish because Annabeth had already taken a ping pong paddle and smashed a ping pong ball in his direction, the mutual action used to keep order in camp counselor meetings.

“BALL!” Annabeth yelled, slamming her paddle across the table.

Percy scowled and took his seat again.

“Now, Percy,” she said sweetly, leaning over the table. “Where did you say Hecate could put those wands?”

“Nowhere,” he muttered.

Annabeth acquiesced and put the paddle down.

“Where is this school anyway?” Nico asked. He frowned. “And Hogwarts? What kind of name is that?”

“It resides in Scotland, its exact location unknown and hidden by powerful magic. Outside of the school, which is an ancient and famous monument for the wizarding world, there are other magical establishments. One place you will be required to visit is Diagon Alley, a wizarding market. That’s where you’ll collect your resources for going undercover at school.”

“Again, you’re saying all this like we’ve agreed to go,” Percy mumbled.

He was ignored. Thalia raised her hand, her features etched with confusion. “Okay, I hate to be the one to say it – but how are we supposed to blend in with wizards and witches? We can’t use magic, and we know nothing about their world.”

Chiron admitted he didn’t know how Hecate would find ways around the problems. “She has informed me that, only once the quest is accepted, will she come and discuss the details. In fact, she should be arriving any moment –”

What happened next could not have been anymore dramatic.

There was a blinding flash of light – the glow filling the entire room – and it forced the demigods to cover their eyes lest they go blind from laying eyes upon a god’s true form.

All eyes landed on the goddess, technically titaness.

Hecate appeared as a tall, thin woman. Her dark brown hair was tied up in a kekryphalos, the shining coil twisting and adorned with intricate gems and metals. Loose strands of hair framed her sickly pale face, which held sharp chartreuse yellow eyes. She wore a dark chiton robe that draped over her thin figure, and it seemed to ripple like a heat hallucination, like ink spilling off to the ground.

At her feet, she was accompanied by a black Labrador retriever and a polecat.

The demigods all stood as one and politely bowed, as was common for all gods. Percy glared up through his bow as he followed reluctantly.

“Rise, my young heroes.” The goddess’ voice was smooth and rich. She sounded monotone. “You have done more than enough to prove your worth to me, and for that, I know that I can trust you. I have called you four here on special request from the Triple Goddess, who has observed your acts of heroics. She believes you can save the wizarding world, her beloved kin, and magics.”

“You will use the ways of the Old Religion to learn magics and go undercover. As demigods, you already have magical cores. They just need to be trained; refined.”

Percy scowled.

“And will the oh-so-gracious Triple Goddess be visiting us herself?”

Annabeth shot him a scathing look.

“Percy!” She hissed.

Hecate eyed Percy again, as if reappraising him. “No,” she said, after a tense silence. “You will be sent to get your wands from one who still practices the Old Religion and can pair you with an appropriate wand. Your cover stories are fabricated and with the wandmaker. The Triple Goddess does not appear without dire need.”

“Her entire world being in trouble seems pretty dire to me,” Percy muttered under his breath.

Annabeth elbowed him harshly.

Hecate narrowed her eyes.

“This,” she said, pulling a laminated piece of paper out of thin air, “is called a portkey. It is an enchanted item; when touched by the intended people, or random persons, it can magically teleport you to a predetermined location.”

She held it out to demigods.

On it, in fancy letters, it read: Littletree Farms, Dorchester, Boston, Massachusetts.

“Touch this, all at once, and you will have accepted the quest.”

Chiron gave them an encouraging nod. The demigods all shared exchanged looks.

“Our responsibilities …” Thalia started, subconsciously reaching up to grab at her lieutenant circlet, from the Hunters of Artemis.

“Will be forgiven for the time while on quest,” Hecate assured. “The Triple Goddess does not ask favours lightly. This has the potential to spill into the real world; to affect our pantheon. The Old Religion is younger than the Greek pantheon, but its reach goes far and wide. The Triple Goddess is powerful; no harm will befall your precious little Camp while you are away.”

Nico hesitated, but was the first to reach for the paper. “If this is really that important … why ask for us specifically? A larger group, organized and planned, could do better.”

“The Triple Goddess has observed you, and believes you are the right heroes to help save magic.”

“But right now? This instant? Can’t we have time?”

“You will come back to your little Camp before you leave for Europe.”

Annabeth pursed her lips, then also reached for it. “Okay.”

Percy looked at her, askance. “Okay? Just like that?”

Annabeth shrugged. “A quest is a quest, and someone needs help. We are in peace right now and have no threats. I don’t see why not.”

“Fine,” Percy said, tone short. He looked over at the laminated paper. “So, this will take us where? What’s in Boston that could be so magical?”

“A wand wood farm,” Hecate said, smiling thinly. “And your quest starts now.”

Percy’s eyes snapped to the paper, where Hecate had pushed it into their collective hands unwillingly. Then the world began to spin, and there was a sharp tug in his gut, yanking him out of time and space.

#pjo #hp #percy jackson #harry potter #pjo x hp #crossover #percy #annabeth #nico #thalia #part 1 #magic percy

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xjoonchildx · 4 years

Text

guarded | jhs x reader | chapter five: italian leather gloves

summary: you’ve tried to separate yourself from your infamous crime family, but a new case has your carefully-constructed world crashing down around you. now you have to figure out how to heal old wounds and handle the new man who enters your orbit.

pairing: hoseok x reader

genre: mafia AU, E2L, slow burn, tsundere, smut

rating: 18+

word count: 6.0K

A/N: so the smut warnings start to go into effect in this chapter, guys! i can’t believe how many kind messages i’ve gotten about this story. please just know that i read every single one and i promise they all make me so happy. i really hope you guys like this chapter and i hope it answers some questions. of course i must thank the squad @ladyartemesia @taetaewonderland @ppersonna for being an amazing support system and kick ass beta readers. love you guys.

Chapter 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | EPILOGUE

****************

Everything hurts.

The moment you open your eyes, you wish you hadn’t. Late morning sun streams bright and unforgiving into your bedroom, making the ache in your temples even more pronounced. You spend a good ten minutes lying flat on your back, staring at the ceiling and remembering everything that went wrong last night.

So terribly, terribly wrong.

Your punishment today -- apart from the pounding headache and sour stomach -- is that despite doing your very best to drink yourself to blackout, you remember every minute of last night in painstaking detail. There’s a cruel clarity to the way your mind replays the awkward dinner with your boss and the confrontation with Donghyuk.

And your fight with Hoseok.

Shame curls in your gut when you recall the nasty things you’d said to try and get a rise out of him. The nasty things he’d said in return when your goading finally worked.

“People like me do the dirty work so people like you can impress rich assholes at stupid parties.”

It’s not like you didn’t already know Hoseok saw you as some kind of entitled rich bitch -- but that didn’t make hearing the words spoken out loud any easier. It didn’t make the anger you provoked in him any less jarring.

And it didn’t make the moment he saw your scar any less humiliating.

That’s when you feel like you might be sick -- when you remember the way Hoseok went completely still at the sight of your damaged skin. The way he’d tried so hard to look like he wasn’t staring and failed.

You get out of bed and slip an oversized sweatshirt over your head, take a few deep breaths to try and calm the wobbling sensation in your stomach.

That’s when it hits you.

You don’t smell coffee.

****************************

Kim Seokjin looks like he’s made himself quite at home when you finally work up the nerve to leave your bedroom. He’s reclined deep into your couch, long legs propped up on your living room table, tablet in hand. He looks up from the screen to take in your bedraggled appearance with wide eyes.

“Rough night, huh?”

“Something like that,” you say quietly. You make your way to the kitchen in search of a glass of water and Seokjin stands up from the couch to follow you.

“Hoseok, uh --”, he pauses for a moment, rubs one hand across the back of his neck, “ -- said he needed a couple of days to take care of some personal stuff.”

You pour lukewarm water into a glass, take one tentative sip and say nothing.

“So you’re stuck with me,” Seokjin continues slowly, “For a little while, anyway.”

You stare into your glass, unwilling to meet Seokjin’s eyes. It shouldn’t surprise you one bit that Hoseok took off after what happened between you last night. It probably shouldn’t hurt either.

But it does.

The little water you’ve managed to get down feels like it might come right back up.

“You okay?” Seokjin asks after a long pause.

“No,” you admit. “I don’t feel good. Probably going to stay in bed for the day, so it’ll be a quiet one for you.”

Seokjin nods sympathetically.

“You know what’s good for when you’re feeling sick?” he asks. “Samgyetang. I found some in your fridge. It’s pretty good too, kinda --”

Your stomach lurches at the mention of that goddamned soup.

You leave Seokjin mid-sentence to retch in the privacy of your bathroom.

*****************************

The next time you open your eyes, it’s to complete darkness.

You wake disoriented, not sure if you’ve slept for hours or for days. The last thing you remember after getting sick was barely getting down some painkillers and a little more water before crawling back into bed.

Then it was lights out.

Physically, you feel better. The hammering headache is gone and the motion sickness is gone with it. But as you lie awake in the darkness, there’s no way to escape your tumultuous thoughts. The ones that keep going back to Hoseok and that fight.

“People like me follow orders so people like you don’t have to.”

No doubt the story of how you left the Gajog has been distorted over the years, passed between gossips in some twisted game of telephone. No doubt the story that’s told now is not about the scared teenager desperate for any semblance of stability; it’s about some spoiled little girl who decided she was too good for everyone else.

“People like me stay behind and handle our responsibilities so people like you can walk away from yours.”

That was definitely the worst blow of the night, though.

There is just enough truth to that accusation to make it stick, to make it sting. You did walk away. You did leave your brother behind.

You run a hand through your hair and reach for your phone to check the time. 9:30 PM.

You feel almost human by the time you get out of the shower and walk out into the living room to find Seokjin dozing on the couch. You feel guilty for rousing him, but it’s his job. You know this is something you have to do right now.

“Jin,” you call out, nudging him gently. His eyes blink back, unfocused as he tries to get his bearings.

“Yeah?” he’s alert at once, looking around. “You okay?”

No, but I’m going to be.

“I’m alright. I need you to take me to see my brother.”

****************************

Namjoon has a beautiful penthouse on the water, a luxury apartment high above the Han River. But there’s no wife, no children waiting for him at home. Nothing in that place but echoing walls and modern art.

So he spends most of his nights at the office.

Seokjin called ahead, just in case -- but you knew your brother would be there. He’s still dressed in his suit, a tumbler of scotch in hand when you arrive. Seokjin doesn’t have to be asked to leave.

“You don’t look well, Amsaja,” he says quietly as you sit in the chair opposite his grand desk.

“You are not the first person to allude to that today,” you say with a humorless laugh. You look down at your giant sweatshirt and jeans, and shove a hand through your still-wet hair. “Message received.”

His eyes are soft with concern. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing,” you say, blowing out a heavy breath. “Everything. I just -- I just needed to see you.”

You were still a little girl when you learned the hard way that tears were futile and pointless and only served to make you a target. But you feel them welling in your eyes anyway. The reflex feels foreign and rusty after so many years of disuse.

“I’m so sorry, Namjoon,” you choke out, voice thick. “So, so sorry.”

Namjoon sets his tumbler down on the heavy wood of his desk, walks around it and over to you. When he gets down on one knee and reaches out a hand to brush your cheek you don’t see the grown man at the helm of Seoul’s largest criminal empire. You see the brother who took care of you when no one else would.

Despite your best efforts to stop them, the tears come anyway.

Namjoon holds you close, strokes your hair while you cry into the jacket of his expensive suit. He doesn’t say anything for a while, just waits for your body to stop shaking with the force of your sobs and for your breathing to even out.

“Why did you let me leave?” you ask once you’ve managed to regain some control. “Why didn’t you ask me to stay?”

Namjoon sighs, standing to stretch his legs. He grabs his drink before walking over to the window to peer down at the lights streaking by below.

“One of us deserved to have a choice,” he says quietly. “It was never going to be me. I didn’t want the same for you.”

Your heart breaks all over again, hearing Namjoon say those words out loud. Your brother, born into a legacy he never asked for and a responsibility he could never run from. Your protector who let you walk away from the life he couldn’t escape.

“You saved me,” you whisper. “He would have killed me if I hadn’t left Seoul.”

“I know that,” Namjoon admits, “I saw it coming, too. The worse his drinking got -- I couldn’t let that happen. I refused to let that happen.”

You stand out of the chair to walk over to the window. Your brother’s profile is illuminated by the passing lights, mouth set in a grim line.

“You forced him to let me go.”

It’s not a question. Namjoon nods.

“I told him I would disappear if he didn’t let you leave. And then what? He’d have spent his entire life grooming me for nothing. He was just weak enough from the drinking to agree. He couldn’t fight me on it anymore.”

You shut your eyes against the fresh tears that come.

“I’ve been so selfish.”

“We’re all selfish, Amsaja,” he sighs. “We all want things we can’t have. That’s human nature.”

It makes your chest squeeze -- how desolate that admission sounds. You think about your brother’s massive, empty apartment. Who takes care of him? Who does he have to talk to? You swallow past the taste of guilt in your mouth.

“We could leave all of this behind, Jaegyueo. Start over. Make our own choices this time.”

Namjoon huffs a sad laugh into the rim of his glass.

“How I got here is not the point anymore,” he says. “You think if I dismantled this organization right now that all of this would just stop?”

He turns away from the window to look you in the eye.

“There would be ten syndicates ready to fill the hole we would leave overnight. And I promise you,” he shakes his head, “None of them would conduct business as neatly as we do. This organization keeps everything from going to shit. This is our way of balancing the scales.”

You wrap your arms around yourself and look back out the window, out to the lights that make the city glow at this time of night. You know your brother is right.

This is his destiny.

“You talk about being selfish,” he continues quietly, “How’s this for selfish? No matter how much you’ve suffered in the past, I still want you here by my side. I still want you to come back.”

Your heart squeezes in your chest.

“Namjoon, I --” He interrupts you with a raised hand.

“You don’t have to defend your stance. You have every right to leave this all behind you forever. Just know that you are the only person on this Earth that I trust without question.”

The ice in his scotch tinkles in the quiet of the office as he swirls the contents of the glass.

“Just know that there is a part of me that will always be waiting for you to come back.”

*********************

HOSEOK

Hoseok had to get out of there.

He had to put space between you and him or he was going to lose his mind.

Thankfully, Seokjin didn’t ask too many questions when he’d phoned in the middle of the night asking to be relieved for a few days. Seokjin didn’t press too hard when he asked about how you were doing and Hoseok nearly took his head off. And Seokjin hasn’t asked why Hoseok is texting him every day to make sure you’re alright.

Sometimes -- rarely -- Seokjin knows exactly when to shut the fuck up.

Hoseok knows he should be using this time to get his shit together.

He knows he’s this close to doing something stupid. He knows he’s got to figure out a way to release the pressure building inside of him before he explodes.

He thinks about how satisfying it would be to put his fist through Kang Donghyuk’s face.

He stares down the stone-and-glass entrance to Kang’s apartment from the driver’s seat of his car, one hand tight around the steering wheel. He tightens his grip on the wheel and loosens it, over and over and over.

A call comes through.

“Hey, it’s Jimin.”

“Yeah,” Hoseok says flatly, eyes never leaving the entrance to that apartment building. “What’s up?”

“I already briefed Namjoon but he wanted me to call you, too. We finally got a hit on Lee Hyejin.”

Hoseok sits up straighter in his seat.

“What did you find?”

“We got access to her accounts. Regular payments, every two weeks -- coming through an offshore wire. Started about three months ago.”

“Shit,” Hoseok says under his breath. “A Ssijog account?”

“We’re still working on confirming that -- but yeah, like 99% sure.”

Hoseok scrubs a hand down his face.

Who gets to break the news to you that your only friend has been fucking with your case -- fucking with your entire life? He thinks back to how blank and despondent you’d looked the night of the snake incident, how withdrawn you’d been the night of the charity dinner.

How much more of this pressure can you withstand before you explode?

“What about the guy?” Jimin asks, after the line is silent for too long. “Any news on him?”

“Not yet,” Hoseok murmurs, tightening his grip around the wheel again. “But it’s coming. I know it’s coming.”

“Okay. Tae is still trying to get a complete list of accounts linked to that offshore one. If we find out more, I’ll make sure you know right away.”

Hoseok ends the call just as another call comes in.

He takes one look at the screen and rubs his fingers across his tired eyes before sending it to voicemail.

He knows he could have handled the situation with Dae with more care. He knows he could have done more than end their casual arrangement with one call. Dae had been furious, demanding he give her some kind of explanation so she could understand why it was over.

Hoseok hadn’t been lying to her when he said he didn’t know why.

But as he sits in the dark -- staring at the entrance of Kang Donghyuk’s apartment building -- he considers for a moment that he might have been lying to himself.

His phone rings again.

“Jung,” Namjoon’s voice comes over the line. “You in the middle of something?”

“Nah,” Hoseok lies easily. “Just relaxing. What’s up?”

“Come have a drink with me.”

*********************

It’s nearly midnight by the time Hoseok makes it across town.

Namjoon appears to be in a contemplative mood tonight, glass of scotch in hand, long body leaned back into his plush chair.

“You’re off-duty tonight,” Namjoon says, taking a sip of his drink. “Scotch?”

Hoseok makes a face.

“Definitely not. Have any whiskey?”

“Yeah, I think I’ve got a bottle around here somewhere.”

Namjoon picks up his desk phone to reach his assistant, who makes quick work of finding a bottle and a clean glass. She delivers both with practiced silence before slipping out of the room.

Hoseok can’t help but notice his boss’s gaze lingering on the pretty young woman as she retreats. He keeps his mouth shut because he’s not an idiot.

Once he has a tumbler of whiskey in hand, Hoseok leans back into his own chair, undoes the top buttons of his dress shirt.

“Something specific you want to talk about?” he asks, sipping his drink.

“Just checking in,” Namjoon says quietly. “I’ve barely seen you these past few weeks. Want to make sure everything’s alright where you’re concerned.”

“I’m fine,” Hoseok says. “Jimin called me about the shit he found on the Lee girl, though.”

“Yeah. I don’t think my sister’s going to take that news well,” Namjoon murmurs. “She’s not exactly the trusting type. A betrayal like this -- ”

He trails off, abandoning one thought for another.

“Does she talk to you?”

Hoseok clears his throat.

He tries not to think about the last time he saw you and the terrible things you’d said to one another. He tries not to remember the look on your face before you turned away from him.

“Not really. Keeps to herself a lot.”

“Yeah, well. She’s had to put up with a lot of shit over the years,” Namjoon admits, rubbing his fingers across his lips. “She keeps things close to the vest.”

Hoseok sags deeper into the plush chair and takes a drink, welcomes the burn that comes with it. He already knows Namjoon is not looking for some kind of dialogue tonight. Namjoon is looking to unload.

Hoseok keeps quiet and lets him do just that.

“My sister has been punished for things beyond her control since the day she was born,” he continues. “My role was clear from day one and hers much less so. My father was too ignorant to figure out how to raise a little girl without a mother and too disinterested to even ask for help.”

Hoseok’s fingers tighten around his glass.

“She spent half her time trying to get his attention and the other half regretting when she finally did.”

The image of that scar comes into Hoseok’s mind, unbidden. The jagged lines of it, the deep indent of it. All of the tiny details that speak to the brutality behind the wound.

“He hurt her,” Hoseok says quietly, looking past Namjoon to stare out into lights outside the window.

“A thousand different ways,” Namjoon sighs, shoving a hand through his hair. “I did what I could, but I couldn’t keep her from all of it.”

The ice in his glass tinkles as he empties his drink.

“I know what people say about my sister, Hoseok,” Namjoon exhales. “None of them know what they’re talking about. She was going to be damned either way. She did what she had to do to survive.”

Hoseok swallows the last of his whiskey around the knot in his throat.

************************

He almost took the night off.

Hoseok’s body could have used the rest, and his mind certainly could have, too. But every time he closes his eyes he sees you, hears your brother’s words.

The pressure inside him keeps building.

He woke up this morning thinking about that photograph inside Namjoon’s desk -- the one taken inside your apartment. The one taken while you were sleeping and at your most vulnerable, inside your own home.

Every cell in Hoseok’s body is telling him that Kang Donghyuk took that picture.

That’s why he’s in his car tonight, following Kang home from the office again. That’s why he’s pulled into a space just outside the man’s high-dollar highrise prepared for another night of waiting and watching.

Fuck, he’ll do it every night until he gets the answers he’s looking for.

A call comes in from Seokjin.

“Hey,” Hoseok answers on the first ring. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Seokjin sighs. “Quiet. She’s busy working in her room or something. Why do I have the feeling you’re not at your place taking the personal time you said you needed?”

“Mind your business,” Hoseok mutters.

Seokjin laughs.

“Honestly, I just called because I’m bored. Wondering if you ever plan on coming back to your post. I’m going out of -- “

“-- Shit,” Hoseok interrupts, sitting up straight in his seat. “I gotta go.”

He ends the call before Seokjin can ask why.

Hoseok squints against the dark when he sees Kang Donghyuk walk out of the entrance to his building. Kang stands on the curb, hands shoved into the pockets of his dress pants. Even from a distance, Hoseok can see he’s looking up and down the street.

He’s waiting for someone.

Hoseok’s entire body is tense as he watches a sleek silver car pull up outside the building’s entrance and Kang slip into the passenger seat. The car takes off and Hoseok’s pulse picks up.

This is it.

He waits until the sedan is a few hundred feet ahead to pull out into the street. He’s careful to keep pace with the surrounding traffic so he doesn’t give himself away. And after a short drive, the silver car parks outside a run-down warehouse in one of the shittier parts of the city.

Hoseok pulls into a dark space, cuts the ignition and hides the bright display of his phone.

He watches Kang Donghyuk get out of the passenger seat, followed by the driver of the car. A man Hoseok recognizes as Ssijog right away. The men have a short conversation in the street before disappearing into the warehouse.

Hoseok’s hand tightens around the steering wheel, then loosens. Again and again and again.

He knows the protocol. He knows he should have called this in five minutes ago.

He hasn’t.

He won’t.

Instead, he reaches into the console to pull out his favorite pair of Italian leather gloves.

*************************

Dressing the part has always served Hoseok well, even in this line of work.

Tonight -- his meticulously chosen suit and tie are his ticket inside Kang Donghyuk’s secure high-rise apartment building. Hoseok walks right past the security guard on duty so casually that the man barely looks in his direction.

It takes him only a few minutes to find the door to Kang’s apartment and the entrance to the service elevator nearby. Hoseok stands back into the recess and balls his hands into fists. He concentrates on the stretch of his leather gloves.

Then he waits.

Kang Donghyuk doesn’t keep him waiting long.

Just a short while later, he’s at his apartment door, fumbling with his keys. Hoseok waits until he nudges the door open before making his approach.

One firm hand to the back of the neck and one firm shove is all it takes.

Kang Donghyuk falls through the entrance to his apartment just as Hoseok is closing the door behind him. He rolls onto his back on the floor, eyes wide and sputtering.

“What the fuck man?”

Hoseok doesn’t bother to answer that.

He pulls out his pistol and points the barrel at the cowering man. Kang’s pupils blow wide and Hoseok feels a pulse of satisfaction at his obvious fear.

“Start talking,” Hoseok says, voice low and controlled.

“About what?” Kang squeaks -- voice slipping out an octave too high.

Hoseok clicks the pistol’s safety into place and off again just to ensure Kang hears the sound. The coward reacts immediately, covering his face with his hands.

“Alright man, I’ll talk. Just chill -- “ he wheezes. “I’ll tell you whatever you need to know.”

“I need to know everything, Kang,” Hoseok says between clenched teeth. “Start fucking talking.”

Donghyuk sits up slowly, hands raised and eyes fixed on Hoseok.

“They came to me a few months back. All they said is they wanted her to fuck up the case. That’s all, I swear.”

There’s no feeling of satisfaction for Hoseok when he hears the words spoken aloud. There’s no victory in confirming the guy he thought was a piece of shit all along is actually a piece of shit.

The pressure inside him continues to build.

“You’re working with the Lee girl?”

“Yeah,” Donghyuk admits miserably, eyes unmoving from the barrel of Hoseok’s gun. “She would help me make copies of her keys and shit. She knew where the important files were, too. I mostly had to keep her out of the apartment when they needed to get in and -- ” he clears his throat, “ -- other stuff.”

Hoseok sees red.

Fury ignites inside of him at the innuendo packed into those two short words. His pistol seems to warm in his hand.

“You took that picture,” he whispers, finger tightening around the trigger. Donghyuk winces, swallows so hard Hoseok can see his Adam's apple jump in his throat.

“Yeah,” Donghyuk admits, curling in on himself. “They asked me to.”

Hoseok turns the gun in his hand so fast Donghyuk barely has the time to put his hands over his face again. He cracks the butt of his pistol against the side of Donghyuk’s skull and the man whimpers as he rolls over in pain.

The pistol whip should have been enough to take the edge off of Hoseok’s rage.

But it’s not enough.

He holsters his gun and Donghyuk stares up at him from the floor, terrified.

“Get up,” Hoseok hisses.

Blood has started to seep from a gash on the side of Donghyuk’s head but the man complies. He stumbles to his feet just in time for Hoseok to take him off balance again. He wraps one hand around the man’s throat and squeezes tight, pushing him back against a wall.

Donghyuk’s eyes bulge as Hoseok pins him to the wall with that hand.

“Never, ever --” Hoseok spits the words, grip crushing the man’s neck, “-- go near her again. Do you understand me? That’s not something I have to repeat even for someone as stupid as you, right?”

Donghyuk’s face is mottled, features frozen in fear as he attempts to nod his agreement.

Hoseok tightens his grip and the man starts to turn a satisfying shade of red. The color deepens as Hoseok squeezes harder and all he can think about is how easy it would be to end him, how just a few more seconds of this pressure could cause his windpipe to collapse. How one more hard press of his fingers could solve the problem of Kang Donghyuk forever.

But protocol.

Hoseok finally releases his grip on the man’s throat and Kang immediately slumps down the wall, into a pile on the floor. He gasps, hands clutched to his chest as he fights to regain his breath.

Hosok stands back, straightening his coat and adjusting his jacket underneath.

He gives Kang Donghyuk one last glance before walking to the door.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” he warns quietly. “I’d hate to have to pay you another visit.”

Hoseok waits for the door to click closed before pulling out his phone to call Namjoon in the quiet of the hallway. He’s a little breathless when his boss picks up on the first ring.

“Regarding Kang Donghyuk,” he murmurs. “There’s been a development.”

**********************

Namjoon’s call comes late the next afternoon.

“Hey,” Hoseok breathes into the receiver, balancing his phone between his shoulder and ear. He drops his hand back into the bowl of ice water at his side. “What’s up?”

“I need you to come in,” his boss says evenly. “So we can discuss next steps.”

“Be there in ten.”

It’s a little pathetic, the way Hoseok perks up at having somewhere to be.

Even meeting with his boss to explain how he broke protocol and nearly choked a man to death beats sitting in his apartment, icing his sore hand. It sure as hell beats sitting on his couch, staring at the TV and trying not to think about you.

Namjoon takes the news of Kang’s involvement and Hoseok’s insubordination surprisingly well.

He’d listened to Hoseok’s account of how he’d tracked Kang to the warehouse and ambushed him outside his apartment with quiet calm. Maybe it’s his imagination, but Hoseok could swear he almost saw Namjoon smile when he described pistol-whipping Kang inside his apartment.

Yoongi -- pragmatic as ever -- laid the options out plainly.

He argued that the Gajog could get rid of either Lee Hyejin or Kang Donghyuk, but not both. Killing both, Yoongi reasoned, would put an entirely different kind of target on your back. Both Hoseok and Namjoon agreed with that assessment. Yoongi has always had a mind for strategy, even if his delivery leaves a bit to be desired.

Namjoon promised to think over the options before dismissing them both.

*************************

Hoseok’s hand still aches.

He’s been driving around the city for more than an hour now, not ready to go home and not certain which move to make next. Each turn of his steering wheel sends a throb of discomfort through his grip.

Fucking up Kang Donghyuk was satisfying, no doubt. But it’s not enough.

Hoseok doesn’t feel the sense of relief he’d expected to enjoy after choking that man to within an inch of his life. There’s still a dull ache inside his chest too insistent to ignore.

He tries to focus on the street signs that come and go, the traffic lights that glow against the backdrop of the setting sun. He drives until the night takes over completely and then he drives until he parks outside of your place.

When Hoseok cuts the ignition, it’s like he’s just come out of a fog. He looks up at your high-rise and takes a deep breath before climbing out of the car.

******************

Seokjin’s bag must have already been packed.

After a quick debrief he’s out the door in seconds, leaving Hoseok alone inside the quiet apartment. He sinks down onto the couch and stares at your closed bedroom door.

He should knock, he thinks to himself.

He should get the apology sitting on the tip of his tongue out of the way so the two of you can move forward from what happened the other night. He should apologize for the way he’s treated you and he should beg for your forgiveness.

Hoseok scrubs a hand down his face before resolving to do just that -- at the same time your bedroom door opens. He watches you walk to the kitchen without so much as a glance in his direction and then he hears the sound of running water.

He follows you.

Hoseok worries for a split-second that you might drop the glass in your hand when you finally spot him.

“Oh,” you breathe, “It’s you.”

Hoseok thought the last time he’d seen you -- when you’d worn that incredible gown and pulled out every stop -- he thought that was the most beautiful you’d ever looked. But somehow that pales in comparison to how you look right now, figure swimming in an oversized sweatshirt, hair loose and framing your bare face. He can’t even bring himself to look lower because you’re wearing those godforsaken shorts. Has Seokjin seen you in those things?

His brain derails and it takes a moment to get back on track.

“Sorry,” he says slowly. “Yeah, it’s me. I’m back now.”

“Okay,” you exhale, setting your glass of water down.

“I’m sorry.”

Hoseok had planned on saying something a bit more heartfelt, something with a bit more depth. He had not intended on blurting out his apology the moment he saw you.

“I don’t want you to feel sorry for me,” you say softly. “I don’t want your pity or anyone else’s.”

Hoseok steps closer and you tuck a piece of hair behind your ear, a nervous gesture.

“That’s not what I said,” he insists, shaking his head. “I’m not sorry for you, I’m sorry for me. I’m sorry because I’m a fucking jerk.”

You blink back at him. “What?”

“I’m sorry -- ” Hoseok takes another step forward, “ -- that you have to put up with assholes like me who think they know everything about you when they really don’t know anything.”

Hoseok ignores the voice inside his head warning him not to press you too hard, not to take this too far.

“I’m sorry anyone has ever tried you because I promise you they are going to pay,” he vows, stepping even closer.

You lean back against the heavy stone of your kitchen island, eyes wide.

“And fuck -- ” Hoseok practically chokes the words out, “-- fuck, I am so sorry for wanting you as badly as I do when I know I have no right.”

There is a moment after those words tumble out when Hoseok thinks he may have just fucked everything up for good. A moment when your mouth drops open but you say nothing and Hoseok is certain you’re going to make him leave.

But you don’t.

So he kisses you.

Hoseok swallows the sound of surprise you make when he slants his lips over yours. You reach your hands around his neck to pull him closer and go up on your tiptoes to make up for the difference in height. Hoseok groans into your mouth when your nails scrape against the back of his neck.

Any moment now -- any moment now he’s certain you’re going to come to your senses. You’re going to demand he take his filthy fucking hands off of you. He braces for it.

But you don’t.

Instead, you melt into his touch and whimper into his mouth and what’s left of Hoseok’s sanity evaporates. The sounds of panting and groaning echo off of the stone in the kitchen as you meld your body to his.

“I want you so much,” he whispers, gripping your waist to lift you onto the counter.

It’s easy to ignore the way his hand aches in protest when you’re wrapping your legs around his waist and sinking your fingers into his hair. His cock is so hard in his pants he feels like he might explode.

You pull away from him, breathless, to lift your sweatshirt over your head and Hoseok’s chest tightens at the flash of doubt that crosses your features. The heat that creeps into your cheeks when your scar is bared and on display.

He leans close to brush feather-light kisses against it, lips soft against the rough skin. “Every inch of you is perfect,” he whispers, sucking gently at the indent in your collarbone. “Just the way it is.”

You suck in a sharp breath and release it with a strangled sigh as your fingers grip the back of Hoseok’s neck. He trails kisses from your scar, slowly down your breast, onto one aching nipple.

“Hoseok -- please,” you beg. “I want -- “

Your plea breaks apart he takes your nipple into his mouth, teeth teasing at the straining bud.

“Tell me what you want,” Hoseok murmurs, burying his face into the soft skin between your breasts, “Tell me and I swear to God, I’ll give it to you.”

Your fingers fumble for his belt and Hoseok groans when you work it apart. There’s no way he’s ever been this hard -- ever. He’s certain he could come just from rutting against the counter with your voice in his ear.

“Hoseok,” you whisper again. “Hoseok -- “

He doesn’t catch on to the panic in your tone until you go rigid in his arms.

“There’s someone at the door,” you whisper, eyes wide.

“Shit.”

Hoseok shuts his eyes, leans his forehead against yours.

You slip out of his hold and he leans over the kitchen counter, arms braced against the stone while he tries to collect the last remaining scraps of his self-control. You pull your sweatshirt back overhead and run quietly to the door.

You’re back only a moment later.

“It’s my brother,” you whisper. “And Yoongi and some guy I don’t know.”

Holy shit.

Hoseok grits his teeth, takes a deep breath, and silently wills his rigid cock to stand down. Thinking about Kim Namjoon’s face on the other side of that door helps, actually. It helps a lot.

The door knocker thuds again loudly and Hoseok can hear Namjoon’s voice coming from the hallway. You wait until he’s managed to straighten his shirt and secure his belt before opening the door.

He can see your brother’s frown from ten feet away.

“Hoseok should really be the one to answer the door, Amsaja,” he says, eyes narrowed. “Is he not here?”

“Yeah, I’m here,” Hoseok calls out, hoping like hell that his voice sounds even. “Sorry. I was just -- uh, in the middle of something.”

Actually, I was trying to be in the middle of something. That something being your sister. That’s not going to be a problem, is it?

Yoongi looks between you and Hoseok and Namjoon but says nothing.

“So what’s going on?” Hoseok asks, desperate to move the conversation along. “Something wrong?”

“Jeon is going to stay over tonight,” Namjoon says, pointing to the youngest man on his team. Jungkook walks into the apartment and bows to you before taking a seat on the couch.

Namjoon nods at Yoongi before turning to Hoseok.

“The three of us have somewhere to be.”

**********************

tag list!

@saintjeonofbusan @lemonjoonah @illnevertrustmyselfagain @sunkissed725@shadowhale @sugaminyoonjiji @jinhitwhore @trust-me-im-joly @daydreambrliever @ultraanonymousey @yoon-bug @multistantrash17 @poohsaidhi @alyboo-jpeg @sahmfanficbts @yoongissugarmommy @p-polaroid @vi-hoshi @stressedinmedschool247 @jgissle12 @ctvrty @btsnatalena @strawbewymiwk @stephleee @jalexa83 @livanthi @fantasybangtan @trviahope @mono-kookie @hauntedlilies

#hoseok x reader #hoseok smut #bts mafia #bts tsundere #hoseok mafia au #ficswithluv #btswriterscollective #ksmutclub #btscreatorscorner #networkbangtan #bangtanarmynet

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literaryfic · 3 years

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Chapters: 1/?  Fandom: 빈센조 | Vincenzo (TV)  Rating: Explicit  Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Vincenzo Cassano | Park Joo Hyeong/Hong Cha Young Characters: Hong Cha Young, Vincenzo Cassano | Park Joo Hyeong Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Italian Mafia, (i know nothing about the mafia so this will be very inaccurate!!!), basically vincenzo & cha-young being mafia bosses in italy

 Summary: When Vincenzo Cassano came back to Italy, no one expected to see someone by his side. Or how Cha-young and Vincenzo became the head of the Cassano family. a mafia couple au inspired by a discussion with @ourgalaxybangtan @ghostrights & @whovie-reloaded

Vincenzo had been handling most of the family business since their adoptive father’s health had started to decline. As the consigliere of the Cassano family, he was Fabio’s most trusted man, his advisor, his lawyer but also his second-in-command.

It hadn’t been easy, all these years, to climb the ladder. He wasn’t a native, he wasn’t blood, and so not many people had welcomed him at first. That’s why he had to become ruthless, so that no one could deny his authority or even dare to try. He had killed and tortured many men, broken their minds and their bones, burned their flesh and cut off their limbs, ashes and screams trailing behind him. If he wasn’t proud of the blood on his hands, he was at least proud of his work. All the hours he’d spent training, fighting, preparing, scheming, studying, all his efforts to erase Park Joo-hyung from the face of earth had paid off. The scared, weak little kid was gone, buried with all his other victims. ‘An eye for an eye, and then some’, Vincenzo lived by that, and he would stop at nothing except killing the innocent. There was no doubt he was the best at what he did and anyone who did not respect him feared him enough to not threaten him. His success was the Cassano family’s success, yet he knew that members of his own clan would not hesitate to have him killed if they could. Two clear factions had formed in the past five years, those who supported Vincenzo as the next head of the family, and those who supported Paolo, his brother. Paolo and Vincenzo had never gotten along, and Paolo’s inferiority complex and jealousy grew deeper every time his older brother had to clean up after one of his rushed job. Paolo had a particular taste for violence. Whereas Vincenzo killed and tortured because he had to, Paolo got a kick out of hurting others, be it children, women or elders. He loved to assert his dominance, to feel almighty. Vincenzo didn’t think himself much better than him, (regardless of the reasons behind his murders, he’d probably killed way more than him), but he wanted Paolo to be punished for his sins. It was only a matter of time before some influential family members whispered plans of assassination and of ‘restoring the rightful heir’ into his ear. Paolo was an angry, frustrated man who wasn’t particularly good at his job, an easy puppet to control. He’d been watching them carefully but he knew that as long as his father was alive, no one would dare to touch him. Back then he had thought he would take care of them when it came to it, become the head of his family, and continue to rule the underworld. Then, the incident happened and everything changed. He hadn’t been able to sleep for weeks, his victims’ screams haunting his dreams. He started avoiding mirrors, his reflection taunting him. He barely ate anymore, and Fabio had reminded him to get a grip. So he had done just that. He drank himself to sleep or took sleeping pills, and he went on. He knew, however, that he could not go on like this much longer. He had to get out before he buried himself next to Park Joo-hyung and all the others whose lives he’d taken. He’d started to plan his escape secretly. He would wait until his father died, staying loyal to him as long as he was alive. When the time came, he knew Paolo would try to kill him. The power struggle between them would start as soon as the head of the family would die, but instead of destroying his opponents, Vincenzo would seize the opportunity to leave. He would go back to South Korea, get the gold and leave to an island, where he would spend the rest of his days. The death of his previous Chinese client was perfect timing. As expected, Fabio, his boss and adoptive father, had named him the next head of the family in his will. It came to no surprise to most members, but murmurs spread quickly, “Can you imagine? A foreigner, as the head of our family? What has the world become?”. After wrapping things up in Italy, Vincenzo promised himself to never return, throwing away the key to the graveyard of his sins. …. There’s no going back from this, he thinks. Vincenzo is still holding Cha-young’s face, unable to look away from her lips, still wet from the kiss. Her pink cheeks, her smeared lipstick, the freckles under her fondation. Her. Hong Cha-young. His heart is soaring in his chest, all the emotions he had desperately tried to silence erupting all at once. There was no point in denying it, he had fallen in love with her. All he could do now was break his own heart, hoping it would heal. …. He realises he can’t live without her after she gets injured. They’re trying to get more information on Jang Han-seok’s paper company, and this time they’re trying to prove that some of the transactions made to European bank accounts were bribes. They’re breaking into none other than the Minister of Economy and Finance, Cha Do-won’s house. Miri had made sure to deactivate the security system and cameras, and Vincenzo was in charge of securing the place while Cha-young searched for the secret ledger the Minister kept hidden in his office. Cha Do-won was making a speech right now, and they had assumed most of his personal security would be with him. Vincenzo had quickly incapacitated the few men around the house and Cha-young looked for the ledger. After a few minutes, she found a hidden drawer in his desk. There it was, a thick documents labelled 'Accounts’. Subtlety wasn’t one of his strong points, apparently. They were about to leave when suddenly, a dozen men started to raid the place. Vincenzo fought them off as best as he could, and he was grateful that Mr. Lee barged in to help. They thought they had them all beat, and so Vincenzo made a mistake. He turned his back to the door to look for Cha-young, who he thought was behind him. “Vincenzo!”, he heard her shout his name. He sees her across the room, about to get struck by a man. He rushes to her and knocks him out quick enough. “Oh my God”, she says, “Did you see that? I almost died! He had a knife as well, and I dodged it, and then I ran—”. She keeps rambling while they get out of the house and into their car, clearly in shock. She’s getting paler as time passes, and he only notices the blood that pooled on the seat when she tries to get out of the car. She was stabbed, but the shock and adrenaline had prevented her from feeling any pain. “Oh”, she says, looking down at her wound. Vincenzo jumps out of his seat and rips the bottom half of the T-Shirt he’s wearing. “I don’t think now’s the time for that, Darling.” Even in a life-threatening situation, Cha-young is joking around. Vincenzo’s mind stops, he feels paralysed by fear, the fear of losing her, of her dying in his car, because of him. He pushes those thoughts away as he holds the fabric to her wound. “Hold this, as hard as you can.” The rest of the car ride to the hospital is a blur of running red lights, speeding in between traffic and repeating “Hong Cha-young, stay with me.” Vincenzo had faced death everyday for the last 20 years. He had killed, had seen people kill and had almost died countless of time. “There’s no limit to fear”, he’d once said to Jang Han-seok’s informant. Only now, waiting for Cha-young’s surgery to be over, does he understand what those words truly mean. During 6 hours, Vincenzo pleads and begs God, the devil, anyone willing to listen (Don’t take her. Everyone but her). He makes empty promises (I’ll do anything. I’ll stop hurting others, I’ll disappear from her life) and meaningless threats (Don’t you dare take her. I’ll kill you, too). In the end he doesn’t know who answers his prayers, and what promises seals the deal, but Cha-young wakes up and he doesn’t care. He holds her hand, stays by her side, and vows to never leave her. He starts to plan for an escape route shortly after that. In case they can’t stay in South Korea and need to take off. First, he thinks of Malta, or another island. But they would need to go somewhere they have allies, somewhere with an easy access to emergency money and resources. Italy. He contacts Luca and sets everything up, a two bed-room apartment, two bank accounts, and everything they could ever need like cash, some guns, and a car. “Consigliere, will there be another person with you?”, Luca asks. “Hopefully it won’t come to that”, he avoids the question. He knows he promised not to come back, but some promises need to be broken out of necessity. He needed to make Cha-young was safe, at all cost. His brother’s betrayal had made it easier. He’d been caught in the crossfire of their fight against Babel, killed by Choi Myung-hee in order to frame Vincenzo. But they had proved his innocence, and sent back his corpse in Milan. After Fabio’s death, Paolo hadn’t been the best replacement, and after he was killed in South Korea, they’d put in charge one of their cousins who had neither Fabio’s experience, nor Vincenzo’s mastermind. The family was in a crisis, which didn’t go unnoticed by their rivals. Soon, business started to slow down, their clients stolen by the competition and their allies started to switch teams. Money ran low. For that reason, Vincenzo didn’t run into much opposition when he came back. Most members and people in their business thought he had killed Paolo after he’d unreasonably followed him to South Korea and tried to finish him. Paolo only left disappointment and resentment behind him, and so no one missed him much. What they had not expected, however, was for Vincenzo Cassano to come back with someone.

#vincenzo #vincenzo fic #chayenzo #chayenzo fic

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lesetoilesfous · 3 years

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caning, forced to watch for kanders?

Fuuuuuuuuck this one killed me and was also very fun to write, thank you for the prompt!

@badthingshappenbingo

Fandom: Dragon Age 2

Prompt: Caning, Forced to Watch

Pairing: Kanders

Characters: Karl Thekla, Anders, Knight-Commander Greagoir

Warnings: Corporal Punishment, Child Abuse, Implied Sexual Abuse, Public Humiliation, Systematic Abuse, Graphic Depicition of Injury

Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, there's some comfort here but I can never write a happy ending when they're still in the goddamn Circle, the Circles are awful.

Word Count: 3,759

It isn’t personal. Karl knows this isn’t about him. He knows, with a very specific kind of agony, that Greagoir has no idea that any of the apprentices currently gathering to sit on the shabby wooden seats assembled in a semi-circle in their dormitory would take this personally. He, like most of the templars in Kinloch, has long since fallen under the impression that no one in this blighted tower likes the young man tied with rough hemp rope to a wooden step ladder in the middle of the circle of chairs any more than they do. And Karl knows that isn’t true: not only because he loves the thin, bruised, frightened looking teenager trying to pull a brave face so much that he thinks he might risk tranquility just to get him out of here. He also knows it isn’t true because one of the six year olds looks like she’s about to burst into tears: the one Anders would climb into bed with and read stories to until she fell asleep without waking up to screaming nightmares. Karl knows it isn’t true because Angelique looks like she’s seriously considering giving up all the Orlesian courtesies she was governed in before she found her magic and setting Greagoir on fire. Karl knows it isn’t true, because little Surana looks like they’re contemplating blood magic.

But the templars have been good at understanding their wards.

A few of the apprentices, of course, giggle. There are red cheeks and flushed faces as elves and human children try to decide whether they’re supposed to avert their eyes. A wooden stepladder (borrowed from the tranquil’s storage closet, if Karl had to guess) is set up in the middle of about a hundred wooden chairs. One for every apprentice in this dormitory. Anders’ hands are tied to either side of the top of the ladder. The apprentices are giggling because his robes have been lifted and tucked into his belt, exposing his long, skinny legs (with a scattering of small round bruises in sets of five on his thighs that Karl doesn’t want to look at.) All of them are staring at the old grey smalls covering Anders’ arse, or trying to look away from them. So the teenagers are giggling, because they’ve never seen anything like this. The older kids and young adults look as if they’re about to attend a hanging. So do the younger apprentices. The pretty ones.

Anders’ jaw is tense, and he’s staring rigidly at the dull, grey, distant wall. Karl can tell how frightened he is because of how still he is. Anders is the kind of boy who never sits still: who’s always gesticulating when he speaks, or wriggling to sit in ever more improbable ways in his chair. Now, every part of him is motionless, his bound wrists frozen beneath fingers that are half curled over the old, paint-stained wood of the stepladder.

Knight-Commander Greagoir stands up, and the giggling stops like a head cut off by a meat cleaver. In the Knight-Commander’s hands is a long, thin wooden cane. Karl is having a hard time breathing.

He’d chosen not to sit at the front. He can’t decide if it was pragmatism or cowardice. He doesn’t want to watch this. He doesn’t want anyone to watch this. He doesn’t want it to be happening at all. But Karl knows that one of the few things worse than this is the templars finding out exactly how much he and Anders have begun to mean to each other: so much so that sometimes when they’re drawn together they flinch away on instinct, too frightened of what the scope of their feelings means for the remainder of their short lives in captivity. Karl can’t let any of the twenty or so templars in attendance, standing at regular intervals behind the gathered seats, know exactly how personally he’s about to take this. So he takes a seat in the middle of the crowd, and sits with his hands folded in his lap, and forces his gaze away from Anders and the purple bruise squashing his left eye shut.

“Apprentices.” Greagoir doesn’t raise his voice. He doesn’t need to. It carries anyway, bouncing against the high stone walls and through the wide empty space. Karl hates him. He hates that he’s doing this here, where they sleep. He hates that when he goes to bed, when he dresses, when he needs a piss, he’s going to have to walk over this patch of floor and remember this. He hates that the smaller kids are going to have to walk over the stone that appears again and again in their dreams and nightmares. He hates that this will likely not be the worst thing he sees done, here.

“It has come to my attention that some of you believe there are no consequences for your actions.” Greagoir punctuates his sentence by slapping the cane in his hand lightly against his metal gauntlet. Several of the apprentices flinch. Karl feels his own shiver ripple through his shoulders and tenses so hard it hurts. Anders’ mouth pinches shut, so tightly his lips bleed white. “You think that you live in a land of extremes: that my men and I will either do nothing, or kill you. I would like to disabuse you of this notion.” Greagoir steps forward, towards the innermost ring of chairs around the ladder, and the apprentices who’d been unhappily forced into those seats when they found all the others filled lean back so fast their chairs creak. Greagoir’s expression doesn’t change.

“It is not our job to kill you. It is our job to protect you. From outside forces, yes. From demons, yes. But also from yourselves. You are not safe in the outside world, and the outside world can never be safe from you. We keep you here for your own good. We clothe you, feed you, educate you. We provide you with more luxury than most peasants could imagine in a lifetime.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Karl sees Samael frowning. The boy had been brought in from a family of twe in Amaranthine. He was, by all accounts, a boy from a life of deep poverty. But he rarely agrees with the templars when they weaponise it against him.

Greagoir gets closer to Anders, and Karl’s mind fills with a vivid, sudden vision of climbing onto his chair and running forward, through the crowd of apprentices, tackling the Knight-Commander to the ground and punching him until his face is bloody. But he doesn’t do that.

“In return, we ask only that you behave yourselves.” Greagoir points at Anders, so suddenly and so violently that several of the apprentices flinch again. Anders, for his part, noisily puffs a strand of hair out his face, and Karl nearly wants to cry. Greagoir’s mouth tightens in a thin, sour smile. “Anders thinks that misbehaving makes him interesting. He thinks it makes him brave, or heroic. He thinks that we are terrible villains, and he is a noble mage, and that he can make fools of myself and my men. But this is not the case. Anders, like all of you, is a child.” Greagoir gestures with the cane, and a Dalish girl who still hasn’t told them her name flinches back so fast her chair tips backward.

“He is a naughty, stupid, little boy. Not only is he a naughty, stupid, little boy - he’s a dangerous naughty, stupid, little boy. Like all of you, like all mages. He needs to be protected from himself. So I want all of you to watch this, and I want all of you to know that this is what happens to naughty children. It is not brave. It is not interesting. It is not heroic. It is foolish, and painful, and humiliating. And I will beat as many of you as I need to, to protect you and all of Fereldan from the far greater danger of mages, like Anders, who will do anything to be 'free'.”

Satisfied, Greagoir steps back and raises the cane. Karl is squeezing the wooden sides of his chair so hard he imagines he can feel it splintering. Tears prickle hotly at the backs of his eyes. Greagoir's hand falls in a swift slash of air and lands with a crack on Anders’ arse. Anders huffs a breath, but doesn’t make a sound. The cane rises again. No one is laughing now. Out of the corners of his eyes, Karl can see the way that every apprentice has become tense and still. His vision distorts like thick glass in a fishbowl. The children around him feel both very close and very far away. He feels as if he’s so close to Greagoir and Anders that he could breathe and touch them.

On the third strike, Anders makes a soft sound of pain, a bitten off grunt that they wouldn’t have heard if it wasn’t for the deathly silence that has fallen over every child in the eastern dormitory. On the fifth strike, Anders yelps - a sound so high and loud it’s almost like an animal. Karl forces himself to look at his face, then, and sees that it’s washed a furious, burning red, all the way to the tips of his ears. And Karl hates it and hates the Circle and hates Greagoir, for turning the gentle, intimate pinkness of Anders’ blush into something humiliating and awful. Karl can feel his magic roiling somewhere between his mind and the Fade like a building wave. Around him, he can feel the tension of the other apprentices' magic, too, as they try to control their fear and anger and embarrassment. It prickles over his skin like static electricity, pulling at the back of his neck.

When Greagoir strikes Anders a seventh time, Anders starts to cry. It’s a terrible, soft, huffing sound dragged from between his lips like a pulled tooth. Greagoir pants, his own cheeks beginning to flush red with exertion, and hits Anders three more times in quick succession. Anders writhes against the stepladder, and Karl notices for the first time that his ankles are tied to the base, too, with the same rough thick hemp rope, which has already begun to rub his skin red and raw. Karl drags his eyes up Anders’ bare, bruised legs and swallows hot, sour bile in the back of his throat when he notices the lines of red that are beginning to spot through the fabric of Anders’ smalls.

Greagoir hits Anders a tenth time, and Anders keens, tossing his head, his nose running, snot mixing with a mess of tears on his red cheeks. Anders' legs and arms are shaking, now, and every time Greagoir hits him he cries out, trying to flinch away from the blow. The stepladder shakes, creaking with the force of Anders’ struggling against the ropes. One of the younger children, Matthias, starts to wail. One row behind him, Karl can sees Angelique crying, silently, her face a mask of polite neutrality.

Greagoir gives Anders fifteen strikes, and by the time he’s done blood is running in droplets down his legs like a monthly bleed. Anders hangs his head, hair falling forward mercifully to cover his face, and shakes, sobbing against the ladder. Greagoir holds the cane between his hands, the wood red with Anders’ blood. “Let this be a lesson to you all.”

Then he turns, and leaves. All of the apprentices remain frozen in their chairs, unsure of whether they can move. But one of the templars - Drass, steps forward and unties Anders brusquely from the ladder. Anders slumps, crumpling to the ground and making a soft sound of pain when he lands on his arse. Drass looks up at the assembled crowd, looping the ropes neatly around his gauntlets. “I’ll need a volunteer to take this ladder back to Owain, and another to take him to the clinic.”

Angelique gets to her feet. “I’ll take the ladder. Karl, do you mind taking him to the clinic?”

Karl nearly passes out with relief. As it is, he makes a mental note to ask Anders to kiss Angelique for him, later, and stumbles forward on numb, clumsy feet to where the love of his life is curled up, bleeding on the floor. Because he couldn’t volunteer, couldn’t find the neutrality to say anything without giving himself away. But Angelique had done it for him. Karl crouches, and gently slips his hands under Anders’ arms, lifting him easily (too easily, it’s always too easy to lift him, a boy this tall shouldn’t be this light.) Anders blinks up at him, eyes red and puffy, lip bitten through, swelling and bloody for it, hair clinging haphazardly to his cheeks and chin.

“Thekla?”

Karl wants to hold him. He wants to hold him, and kiss him, and tell him nothing like this is ever going to happen again. But he can feel Drass’ eyes on him, so doesn’t do any of those things. He waits until Anders drags his feet under him, and slings his arm over his shoulders, and tugs his robes loose of his belt to cover his legs with a wave of relief so strong it nearly incapacitates him. Anders shudders as he’s fully clothed again, and Karl wants to stop, and apologise, but instead he gently tugs him towards the door. Anders limps with every step.

Wynne doesn’t heal him. She explains, curtly, that she’d been instructed by Greagoir not to erase a painful lesson with magical healing. Karl had explained, loudly, that Anders could hardly learn the lesson if he died of infection or blood loss. At that, Wynne had given him a pot of ointment and gauze and told him to leave. Karl had, face burning with the force of anger. Anders hadn’t said anything throughout, which was making Karl’s hurt do worried somersaults. Slowly, limping, they’d walked back downstairs towards one of the apprentice bathrooms. Hadley was on duty, at least, and gave them both an apologetic, embarrassed smile, averting his gaze to the side of the bathtub as Karl helped Anders undress and get inside. Anders had said nothing throughout, his brown eyes unfocused and his breathing shallow.

He’d only come back into himself when Karl had picked up a rag with one arm under Anders’ almost concave belly to support him, Anders’ ribs sticking sharply into his forearm. Karl had stared at the series of haphazard, angular weals and welts cut into Anders skin in deep, angry purple and red lines. His skin was more bruise than anything else, painted yellow and green, covered in dried lines of blood. Karl had suddenly found that he couldn’t move, kneeling beside the iron bathtub, rag in hand. That was when Anders had come back, hand squeezing his forearm. Karl had looked up, and realised that his chin and the stubble that kept growing there no matter how often he shaved, was damp with tears. Anders hadn’t touched his face - couldn’t, with Hadley watching, no matter how nice he was. His eyes were hollow and dark with anger and a terrible, wounded sort of fear. But his long fingers had dug deeply into Karl’s forearm, squeezing it hard.

“It’s alright.”

Karl nods. He doesn’t say, it’s not alright. He doesn’t say, it’s never going to be alright. Instead, he dips his hand in the bathwater, coaxing heat into it with his magic, and gently begins dabbing at the dried blood. Anders’ breath hitches every time he touches the cuts, and by the time Karl’s finished the water’s pink and Anders is crying almost silently in soft, coughing hiccoughs. Hadley’s mouth is turned down in an unhappy frown, but he stands ramrod straight against the wall in front of the bathtubs, watching them. Gently, Karl helps Anders get out of the bathtub, drying him off and helping him get dressed before walking him back towards his bunk bed.

Jowan is gone - probably off trailing after Surana like a lost puppy. Karl doesn’t really care, he’s just grateful there isn’t someone immediately above them to watch as helps Anders lie on his front. The apprentices in the beds nearby skitter away from them like frightened sparrows as soon as they get close, and Karl can’t find the energy to apologise to them for it. Anders’ bed smells like soap and old rags and ink, and his pillow is stained with decades of other apprentices. He lies down on the thin mattress, and Karl kneels on the stone beside the bed, gesturing to the robes over Anders’ legs.

“I need to put on the ointment.” He says, and wishes he was better with words.

Anders huffs, turning to look at him with one brown eye that’s almost yellow in the shadow of the bunk bed. “You don’t need to ask. It’s not as if everyone hasn’t seen it, anyway.”

Karl freezes, breath hitching in his throat. “Anders -”

Anders buries his head in his arms, and his voice is muffled when he speaks. “Just do it.”

Karl’s stomach flips. But he gently lifts the robe above Anders’ legs and pulls down his smalls, his mind loud with uncomfortable recollections of more precious moments - like the first time he’d undressed him, like this, and the way they’d both blushed, and the sound of Anders’ sighs when...Karl swallows, and his fingers touch the scattering of bruises dug into Anders’ thighs. He doesn’t say anything, though he looks up at the back of Anders’ head and the tangled hair there. Anders doesn’t move, and doesn’t say anything, so Karl grimaces and unscrews the lid of the ointment. The salve inside is thick and white and sticky. It smells bitter and astringent, and when Karl dips his fingers inside it tingles against his skin like peppermint. He pauses, pulling the blanket in a tent over Anders’ arse and legs in an awkward attempt at preserving his dignity.

“This might hurt a bit.”

Anders grunts, fingers crushing the thin pillow beneath his head, face still buried in his arms. “I’ll live.”

Karl nods, and gently begins to dab the ointment against the deeper cuts. Some of them are so deep that the skin around them is peeling back, pulling them wider open. The ointment fills the deep red wounds, shiny against the purple and blackening skin. Occasionally, Anders flinches, and every time he does Karl stops until Anders nods, quietly murmuring, “Ok”, with a hoarse voice. When he’s done, Karl feels like he’s run a marathon, wiping his fingers clean with a rag and pulling Anders’ smalls back up and his robes down over his legs before covering him with the blanket.

The mage lights in the dormitory are darkening, heralding curfew, and a queue of some twenty or so apprentices is waiting outside the western bathrooms. Everyone is paired up. You learned quickly not to bathe on your own, no matter how nice the templar in the bathing area was. Karl knew Anders, at least, had learned that the hard away. The dormitory is full of apprentices yawning and talking quietly - a few sitting up beside candles squinting at their parchment as they try to finish their homework. But the dormitory is also strangely hushed, utterly devoid of the occasional laughter that usually peppered the evenings as everyone came back from classes. No one has forgotten Greagoir’s lesson, yet, and Karl doubts they will for a while.

He knows he only has twenty minutes or so before the apprentices in the beds around Anders’ get back from bathing. He doesn’t care. He adjusts himself on the floor, and leans as close to Anders as he dares - watching the templars that line the distant walls like living statues, or gargoyles. “I want to kill him.”

Anders startles, sitting up with a wince and looking around at the templars himself before staring at Karl with wide, red-rimmed eyes. “You can’t say that!”

Karl meets Anders’ eyes, and lets him see all the anger he’s been trying to keep hidden. “I would. I’d do it in a second. I don’t care if they make me tranquil. Send me to Aeonar, even.” Karl lifts his chin, and tries to ignore the shivering fear in his chest as he says the words. “I’d do it.”

On the bed above him, Anders' pinched, narrow features soften. “I’d never forgive you.”

Karl blinks, and isn’t sure why that makes him want to cry, suddenly. “How d’you think I feel?”

Anders slumps, pursing his lips as his brows draw up, glancing furtively to either side before moving his hand under his blankets to squeeze Karl’s fingers at the edge of the mattress. Karl shifts closer, moving so his body is hiding their joined hands. “M’sorry. Must have been shit, to watch that.”

Karl chokes. “It must have been shit to experience.”

Anders’ fingers tighten reflexively around his, and he’s quiet for a moment. “I can’t imagine, watching them do that to you. I think I’d have set this whole blighted place on fire.”

“I wanted to.” Karl admits, leaning heavily against the thin wooden frame of Anders’ bed. There’s all sorts of graffiti on it - mostly templars and mages in ever more crude positions. And initials. Something in Tevene, Nolite te bastardes carbonodorum. Karl swipes his thumb over the back of Anders’ hand, stroking it softly. “I can stay here, tonight, if you want me to.”

Anders’ mouth trembles. “No, you can’t.”

Karl swallows against the thick lump in his throat, watching the queue of apprentices dwindle by the bathing area. One of the templars at the other end of the dormitory has already begun bedtime checks - lifting open apprentice’s clothing crates for perfunctory searches and ushering students still working to bed. “I want to.”

Anders’ expression softens, and his fingers flex in Karl’s hand. “I know.” He glances at the templars - still forty feet away - and leans forward to press a quick, clumsy kiss to Karl’s temple, before letting go of his hand like he’s been burned. “Go to bed, Thekla. I’ll be fine.”

For several seconds, Karl sits there, skin burning where Anders had kissed him, hand numb with the ghost of him. Anders gives him a small, shy smile and Karl returns it despite the way his heart is trying to tear itself into pieces. He gets up, and stretches his cramped legs, and starts walking the long way back to his bed in the middle of the dormitory. He doesn’t say anything.

The words sit heavily on his tongue, anyway, unspoken. No, you won’t.

#bad things happen bingo #kanders #karl thekla #anders da2 #dragon age 2 #da2 #my fic #anon

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dialovers-translations · 4 years

Text

DIABOLIK LOVERS MORE, MORE BLOOD Vol. 12: Mukami Ruki [Another Story]

Original title: アナザーストーリー

Source: Diabolik Lovers More, More Blood Vol. 12 Mukami Ruki [Deluxe Edition]

Audio: Here

Seiyuu: Takahiro Sakurai

Translator’s note: I feel very much conflicted about this CD still. While I do kind of like how they took a different approach with the Another Story track and the way it ends, I still think Ruki went way too far in the main CD. It was interesting to see everything from his perspective too, although this means there’s a bunch of inner monologues in this and it’s Ruki so they’re quite long. I try to break up the paragraphs by describing what happens based on background sounds and such but this one just has a bunch of rambling lol.

→ LIKE MY TRANSLATIONS? SUPPORT ME ON KO-FI!

“Lately, she has been formidable. Even though she was always the type of girl to make the most foolish mistakes, to the point where one would wonder if she did it on purpose. She has not been getting scolded by me either. That does not bother me. Or at least, it shouldn’t bother me. So why do I feel so...restless?”

*Ding・dongー Ding・dong*

Ruki walks up to you in the inner courtyard.

( So that’s where she’s been...Look at her just casually watering the plants... No wonder she did not show up in the library. I assume she has completely forgotten about our meeting. )

“So this is where you’ve been.”

You flinch.

( Huh? What’s wrong? Why would she be so surprised just because I called out for her? Also...Under normal circumstances, I’d assume she would panic and spray water all over me with that hose she just so conveniently happens to be holding. Yet, she made the wise decision and turned off the water. )

“Oh well. I shall praise you for ceasing your actions as soon as you saw your Master approach. However, there should be something you have forgotten.”

You bring up the promise.

“Oh? So you do remember. Then you should have just hurried to the library.”

( Now this is new. I didn’t think a scatterbrain such as herself would have remembered our plan to meet up. No, if she remembered, she should have come to me straight away. Did she only just now remember? Even so, her behavior is off. Or am I simply overthinking things? )

*TIMESKIP*

( Once it starts boiling, the dressing will be complete. Which leaves just plating the salad. )

You enter the kitchen.

“...Hm? You’re already here? You almost resemble a dog or a cat rather than livestock, lured in by the scent like that. Let me tell you just in case, it is not feeding time just yet. Wait until I’m done preparing it.“

You nod and leave.

( Oh? She left without offering to help? I’m glad to see her so obedient, but then what did she come for in the first place? Usually she would insist on helping even if it’s more of a bother and either cut her finger or break one of the plates. Those are the kind of things she does. )

He turns off the stove.

“What is this feeling as if something is...off? Something about the way she’s been acting trips me up. Come to think of it, I haven’t seen her make a blunder even once as of late. That isn’t something which should bother me, but I just can’t seem to get rid of this unsettling feeling in my chest. What has gotten into her...?”

*TIMESKIP*

Ruki enters the room

“We finally made it back. That was quite the disaster. ...Honestly, why do I have to wear the clothes she picked out for me? Well, I suppose she did not make a bad choice for once. I’ll add it to my collection of casual wear. That being said...Nothing happened today either.”

He takes a seat on the bed.

“How many days has it been since she stopped making mistakes? She won’t even show dangerous behavior. What kind of miracle is this? No, I do not mind that. I shouldn’t mind it. It basically means a huge pressure has been lifted off my shoulders. Then why do I feel so conflicted? Her suspicious behavior piques my interest, but even beyond that...”

( I felt as if something was lacking. Oh, I get it now. It all makes sense now. I have not gotten to taste her blood as of late, so I must feel unsatisfied. I am not the type of guy who easily becomes thirsty for blood, nor would I indulge in her without a good reason. However, with less opportunities to punish her, our time together automatically decreased as well. To be upset because of that, I must seem like a spoiled child throwing a tantrum because his mother does not pay enough attention to him. It is obvious since when I have become so obsessed with her

...Since the moment I decided to betray the whole word and chose her, I must have already been enraptured by her. Harshly sucking her blood while restraining her movements was something which fulfilled my desire for dominance. It most definitely made me feel good. However, somewhere deep inside, I felt relieved when she accepted me without fighting back against it. At some point, I even began to cherish those moments where I would pierce my fangs through her skin. I must be quite the easy man as well. I always thought I was in charge, but I may have actually been the one wrapped around her little finger instead. (1) I cannot show myself to that man like this. No, I assume he is already well aware. )

Ruki suddeny raises his head.

“Hm...? That man? Speaking of which, that hourglass I gave her...I considered the possibility but could it be...? Even if she were to make some sort of mistake, if she rewinds time, she could do the same scenario over again. If she makes it so only she remembers, it would be easy to keep it hidden from me. I wanted to believe I was simply overthinking things, but now that I think about it with a clear mind, it really is suspicious...I’m sure that even someone as slow as herself would eventually get things right after two of three tries. If she has been using that hourglass to cover up her own mess-ups, then I have no other choice but to punish her for such a foolish act.”

( It became clear to me that I would have to set up a trap to find out the truth. ーー And if her actions were to be exposed, I would make sure to compensate for the lack of disciplining these past few days. I can already imagine her crying out. I probably should not feel proud for having such thoughts. However, this is not a bad situation. It may be somewhat shameless, but it seems like I am enjoying it quite a bit. To get to use her own blunders as an excuse to suck her blood, or knowing that no matter what I do, she will not get away from me. )

“I suppose I shall enjoy our time together for the first time in a while...Which may just turn out to be a hellish period for her.”

*TIMESKIP*

*Ding・dongー Ding・dong*

Ruki pulls back after sucking your blood.

“...Hah. Your blood tastes even sweeter than usual. By sucking it repeatedly, the flavor ripens, becoming richer, almost like wine. Or in other words, like a stew you kept on the stove for too long. If it simmers any longer, it might just burn. I suppose we could put it to the test. After all, no matter what happens to you, all we have to do is turn back time.”

You keep quiet.

“You can hear me, right? Why not give some sort of reaction? I would not mind seeing you miserably struggle in vain.”

You still fail to give a response.

“Guess she really did lose consciousness. Judging by the looks of it, I doubt she will wake up even if I were to rewind time. I guess you could consider us even now. Perhaps I went a little too easy on her, but I shall forgive her now.”

He takes a step back.

“Such an innocent sleeping face. Almost as if the obscene expressions you showed me earlier were nothing but a lie. Your sheer white complexion and screams were not bad. As well as how you would cling onto my clothes, remaining by my side despite your obvious fear.”

*Thud*

“...Ah!”

*Cling*

“The hourglass...”

Ruki picks up the Hourglass.

“That man might have been testing me after all...Me? Or rather, us? ...Now that I think about it twice, the ability to manipulate time is something which should only ever be given to God. We could have possibly overthrown all logic in this world if we so wished. Yet, we used it to cover up for trivial mistakes. Then this is basically just some child’s toy. However...I am sure that was for the best.”

He turns his head to look at you.

“You might be more of a genius than I thought. However, how many times did you rewind? The magic has almost run dry. The few times I rewinded are basically irrelevant. I wonder just how many times you repeated your own ridiculous mistakes? Oh well, I shall drag that out of her later. I doubt she will easily confess though. ーー No, I suppose there is no point in asking her. I can simply confirm it with my very own eyes.”

*Cling*

“With this amount, we can still turn back time just once. That’s plenty.”

*Thud*

*Tick tock - Tick tock - Tick tock - Tick tock*

ーーー

“Hm…”

You approach Ruki.

“Oh? It’s you. No, it’s nothing serious. I was simply lost in thought.”

You take notice of the hourglass in his hand.

“You seem curious. Are you that interested in this thing? Blood red sand…Its decorations are beautiful as well. It would make for the perfect interior piece.”

You ask if there is a catch.

“No, it’s jsut a regular old hourglass. There is nothing special about it.”

*Thud*

“More importantly, you mentioned you wanted to look for resources for your assignment, right? Meet me at the library during tomorrow’s break time. I shall help you.”

You seem surprised.

“Yes. As your Master, it is my duty to look after you. However, do not be late, okay?”

You nod.

( Well then...I wonder what the next few days will have in store for me? How many mistakes will you make, and how many times will you get punished by me? ...I am looking forward to it. )

ーー THE END ーー

Translation notes

(1) Literally he says that he always intended to be the one ‘holding the reins’, but instead he was actually tied up/restrained this whole time.

#diabolik lovers #dialovers #ruki mukami #diabolik lovers more more blood #diabolik lovers translation #diabolik lovers drama cd #drama cd

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ladecena · 3 years

Photo

DREAM💃💫

Mich Delavega’s ambition is to be a dancer, but her father has refused to support her for no apparent reason. Is she willing to take a chance? Did she carry on with her aspirations despite her father’s disapproval? Was she brave enough to fight for what she truly desired?

I’m strolling slowly down the corridor, thinking about what happened the day before. Dad and I got into an argument over what I wanted, and when he found out that I was secretly competing in a dance competition, he was upset and demanded me to stop. It’s strange until he brings up the matter of my cousin’s accident. What a pitiful excuse, yet it’s true.

Danica was the first person I met. It’s just me and my one and only best pal. She greeted me with a grin and handed me a piece of paper. It’s a Dance Battle Poster for our Students Days

Flashback

I’m looking forward to coming back home. Danica and I attended a competition altogether. This is our sixth win in this competition; we always enter but keep it a secret from Dad because if he finds out, he will be furious. Dancing is really something he despises. I’m not sure why, but it began when I begged with Dad to enroll me in a dance class. He encouraged me to stop, but I’m a stubborn person, and then there was an accident because my cousin was causing difficulty because of the dance, and my father became upset, as if she was cursing the dance for the rest of his life.

As I arrived home, I found my mother watching TV on the couch and my father reading the newspaper when I opened the door. I approach them from behind and give them a kiss on their cheeks.

When I saw the diploma, prize, and tape of my dance practice and competition, my eyes widened.

“Tell me, what is this Mich Delavega!”

My father was constantly yelling. I put my hands over my ears and close them. I’m terrified.

“How long? 3 years? Did you just spend all of my money on dancing?”

While I was crying, my mother sat next to me and embraced me so tightly. Why was Dad acting so strangely? In my head, I said.

End of flashback

That day has stayed with me to this day. I’m in the library at my school. I’m pursuing BSBA since it’s what my father wants me to do. They are businessmen/women, and I am the next in line to become our company’s CEO.

After a few hours, school was over. We were both eager to go home, so I got to work right away. Danica, on the other hand, interrupted me. She invites me to join her in a studio with her.

We don’t need to drive because Jigs Studio is close to our school. We arrived at the studio’s entrance. When I hear music blaring, my heart jumps. It really is as if it’s encouraging me to move, sway, and enjoy the beat. I smile quietly at myself.

I’m really looking forward to the battle. I can’t seem to stop grinning. This is my dream, which my father has thwarted.

The competition was about to start when we found a seat.

“Hello there, everyone! Thank you for attending this battle. I know you’re all excited to see this, so let’s get this fight started between Black mamba and Higher kids!!!!” The host said

And we’re all clapping, and I can hear some audience members shouting from every nook and cranny of the studio. In a few moments, the two contestants will be here, facing each other. Each contender will showcase their moves on the platform in the first round. In round two, they choose one member to defy their group and battle against the other, and in round three, one of the audience members will perform the song that they have picked.

We’ve been through much too much. Danica and I had a good time during the match. When I returned home, I found my mother seated on our couch, watching television.

“Hello, mom,” I said, smiling.

“What’s the matter with you? Are you all right?” My mum replied casually

“Mom, I’m fine. By the way, I need to get some sleep.”

I went to my room, changed into my pajamas, and fell asleep in my bed.

I awakened the next morning with a playful smirk on my face. Today I’m in such a great mood. I get out of bed and begin my morning routine.

I excitedly entered our kitchen, and while I ate my breakfast, mom noticed me and kissed me on the cheeks.

I finished my meal and went to see my father. I need to tell him something when I’m in the backyard, I smell some burning plastic. I walked to where it came from and my jaw dropped when I saw my things get burnt.

"Daddddddddddd!”

I raced up to him and tried to stop him, but it was too late; my possessions had went up in flames. While observing the fire, I slam myself on the grass. When the fires are all out, I stare angrily at my father.

"You deserve it. This is your punishment."

"What do you mean Dad?! I’m not sure why you feel that way and you need to burn my stuffs, which were extremely valuable to me!”

I cried as I ran inside our home.

Mom came in my room to console me. When she saw my sad face, she looked so sorrowful.

“You’re aware of how much I cherish you. You are my daughter. You grew up beside me. I fell madly in love with those beautiful eyes the first time I saw you. Even though it was difficult for me to accept those gorgeous eyes, I did so because I believe that if I put my hand on you, you’d be mine. You are going to be my daughter. She cried as she stated it.

"Why are you bringing this up now, Mom?” As I stated earlier

Moms, like dads, have an odd habit of saying gibberish.

“Sweetheart I’m not your biological mother.”

“You can’t play at me like that, mom, I’m not a fool.”

“Please accept my apologies.”

When she apologizes, I take a serious expression on my face. Is this true? Is this a dream? If that’s the case, kindly wake me up. I despise these feeling. I turned to face my mother, who was sobbing in front of me. A lot of people were staring at us as well. To grab her attention, I mimic a cough.

“What is her name? What is the name of my mother?”

“Your mother Mich is your father’s first wife.”

“Is that my father’s explanation? Why is he putting pressure on me to give up my ambition of becoming a dancer?” Mom gave me a nod as I spoke.

Dad walked on me and looked me in the eyes.

“She is, she’s your mother. That is why I do not want you to pursue a career as a dancer. That dream will destroy you, as well as our family. "My father’s eyes welled up with tears as he spoke.

It was the first time I had ever seen him cry. "Is it a lot of pain?” In my head, I asked.

“Your mother abandoned us. She had only just given birth and had already departed. She is unconcerned about us. She is more dedicated to her passion than the rest of us, and I don’t want you to follow in her footsteps. That’s why I’m putting a halt to you.

"Dad embraced me and grabbed my shoulder.”

"Can you put your faith in me, Dad? I will never abandon you, father, as she did.” I said this while gazing him in the eyes. He turned around to avoid looking at me.

I take my father’s hand in mine. While I’m face the ground, he glances at me.

“I apologize for not being a good parent to you. I’m sorry that I’ve gotten selfish since I’m a useless father. I let you show me what you were passionate about.”

“Do your best,” he added as he walked away.

“I’ll make my dad proud!” I said

Tomorrow morning, I arrived at Danica’s house, we agreed to enter a dance competition. All I know is that I want to impress my family, so Danica and I put in a lot of preparation and effort before the competition, and it is quite difficult for us.

The competition will begin in three weeks. We’re both exhausted, but we’re having a great time.

Danica and I are both excited and worried on the day of the completion. Our names are called by the presenter after several hours, and we confidently walk up to the stage.

I began to sexily dance in a chair. It’s wonderful. Dance made me feel strong, seductive, and fearless! There’s something about dancing in a new and vulnerable way in my heart that makes me happy. To be honest, when I did chair dance, I felt like an acrobatic goddess.

Danica moves sexily in the chair as well, lowering her upper body to the seat and slowly lifting her feet off the floor until her legs are in the air. She pauses for a second to catch her breath before smiling.

We ended the song by posing beautifully in front of a lot of people clapping on us. We smiled and hugged each other.

“We made it!” I whisper

In the end, we succeeded. We’re ecstatic because this is the first time I’ve ever danced in front of many audience, and my father is seeing me perform live.

We’re still here to thank everyone in the crowd and the judges, even though the program is ended.

In back stage, I saw my family.

“Mom! Dad!” I shouted something and dashed over to hug them.

“You did a great job, sweetheart,” my mother replied, beaming.

I fixed my gaze on my father. Before we departed, he gave Danica and me a bunch of flowers and congratulated us.

When we came home, I went straight to my room to rest, and then my father called me. I take a few steps forward and open the door.

“Hello, Dad!” He smiled at me and instructed me to be in my room.

He handed me a medium-sized box and added, “I forgot to give this to you.” I’m happy for you. This should be kept.

“Thank you, Dad!” I said

I was shocked when I found a necklace and key, as well as a camera and two papers. I take the key first and turn to face my father.

“I bought one of the studios near our house,” he continued, “so you and Danica can practice there.”

“I know you wanted to go to a dancing school when you were younger, but I’m not permitting it; nonetheless, I believe it’s not too late to join you, right?!” I hugged him tightly and cried.

“Thank you dad, you made me happy. Thank you so much! I promise you I will work hard to make you proud. ”

“You don’t need to work hard to make me proud because right now I’m so proud of you.”

We smiled and hugged one other passionately.

I run into a lot of challenges in this world as a result of pursuing my dream. Nothing can readily obtain it. Before we can get what we really want, we need to go through the needle hole. We must be strong and confident, but we must also remember to smile. To all of us, Dream is really significant because it leads to success. So keep dreaming and, if you truly want something, take a chance, even if it seems impossible. I am Mich Delavega, A Business Woman and a Professional Dancer.

- peachy k. 🍑

June 10, 2021

#music art dance pop love passion inspiration sound motivation creative musically #dance dancing show shows inspire inspiration love learn create #health wellness healthy lifetsyle art love create motivate inspire inpiration #inspiration

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slasherscream · 5 years

Note

You don't have to if you feel uncomfortable but may I have a request where JD, Hannibal, Billy and Candyman react when they found out the woman they love who always cares and smiles for others, just a ball of sunshine coming from a dysfunctional broken home. Even when they find her with a black eye due to an argument, she still smiles and ensures she's fine

Jason Dean

JD never saw it coming. He figured you came from some perfect, little suburban dream family. A loving Mother, a doting Father he didn’t know what else could produce someone like you but a stable home life.

He had a childhood that was less than ideal, putting it lightly, and you two shared almost nothing in common. Where he was pessimistic you were looking on the bright side. When he pointed out the nastiness in others you’d somehow find a way to make him see the good in the people around you two as well.

Though sometimes he thought you were a little naive it endeared him to you more than you could know. No matter what he did you’d come back swinging with that positive, happy-go-lucky outlook and it was beginning to rub off on him, just a little.

He smiled more when you were around. Everything felt more worthwhile. That was, of course, when the illusion went tumbling down.

He crawled through your window ready to see you and surprise you as he’d gotten your address from one of your many friends at school.

He climbed through the window he guessed was yours only to find you curled up on your bed, clutching your pillow and trying to block out the sounds of loud fighting going on downstairs.

Multiple voices screaming back and forth, you flinching at every sound bleeding through your door. But that wasn’t the worst of it. The worst was when he made a noise finishing coming through and you turned to look at him, startled.

Your eye was swollen and already beginning to discolor but immediately upon seeing the expression on his face (rage and heartbreak mixing together) you raced to him trying to reassure him you were fine.

He asked who touched you but you just kept reassuring him that everything was fine. You hugged him close and tried to soothe his nerves, all the while, the fighting downstairs got louder.

You can say it’s fine all you want but JD will never forget and he’ll get his answer eventually. He’ll punish your family for hurting you all these years when there was no one around to protect you. You were everything that was good about the world, and if he had to burn it to ash to see you safe and happy the way you deserved to be? He’d do it in a heartbeat.

Hannibal Lecter

Hannibal is probably the closest to seeing something off right from the start of things.

It’s not that you aren’t convincing, or even that you’re faking your joy and general love for the world around you. He hates people that aren’t genuine and he can sniff them out easily.

It’s just that sometimes there is a sadness to you that he is always trying to trace back to something. You are a puzzle that he is trying to solve and somewhere along the line he falls in love with you.

He notices how you dance around the topic of family, keeping your comments vague and going a bit quiet whenever he brings up wanting to meet the people who’d raised such a wonderful, young woman.

For some reason his mind does not jump straight to abuse. There are plenty of strained parental relationships that are not out right abusive and outside of those tiny moments where you seem to break a little at the seams you’re so bright.

Love is blind, he’d thought the expression only true for others, he hadn’t ever imagined himself being in love in the first place. He couldn’t have imagined his own assumptions towards you blinding him to the obvious.

When you show up to a lunch date with him wearing sunglasses he tries to spend the meal ignoring them but finally asks, for the sake of manners, for you to remove them as you are at the table. He’d never known you to be rude.

Slowly you take them off and the world goes still. Your face is pointed downwards towards the table but it doesn’t stop him from being able to see your eye. He rushes from his side of the table to cup your face and everything clinks into place immediately.

“Who did this to you, dearest?” his voice is devoid of judgement, calm the way he is during his sessions. But inside he’s engulfed with rage.

“My (family member) didn’t mean to. Our fights just get so bad and I’m always making them so angry-” He pushes your head into his chest, stopping your onslaught of excuses for a person who wouldn’t be in the land of the living very much longer. There was no need for you to think of them anymore.

Billy Loomis

What draws him to you is how good you are. At first it annoys him because he thinks you’re faking it. No one could possibly be as sweet and kind as you’re pretending to be.

He can stand few things less than he can stand a fake and at first, frankly, his interest in you is finding out everything he can about you so he can kill you and mentally torture you while he does it.

It’s while he’s learning everything he can about you and stalking you that he starts to fall in love with you, little by little. Stu keeps asking him when they’re going to off you and he keeps answering ‘not yet’ every time. Eventually Stu stops asking and starts to focus on the next victim.

Billy doesn’t lose focus. He can’t think of anything but you. He starts stalking you more and more, the need to see you and hear you only worsening by the minute.

Eventually he gets sloppy and slips up and you see him. You’re walking alone at night for some reason in a town with an active serial killer but you look like there’s no other place you’d rather be. He wonders why you don’t go home but just barely, he’s grateful you’re usually so easy to keep track of.

When you spot him you recognize him from school and call out to him. He’s got no choice but to approach you casually, pretending he’s also out for a late night walk. “We should walk together to be safe!” Before he knows it you’re looping your arm through his and walking together.

You stay out nearly the whole night together and he asks you out the very next day. It’s not long before he’s calling you his girlfriend and stalking you less. You spend so much time with him he’s actually pretty secure in the relationship and what you mean to each other. Sometimes he’ll do it just to check up on you but it becomes a rarity.

One night he follows you home, just to make sure you get there without incident, and he starts hearing strange loud noises from inside the house. He sneaks into your bedroom window just to make sure you’re okay. You run in crying right as he’s making his way to the door, clutching the side of your face protectively.

He’s on you in a second, locking the door and prying your hands away. You don’t have time to ask him what he’s doing there before he sees the early signs of your eye bruising and falls into shell-shocked silence.

With more gentleness than you knew he was capable of he kissed your head, got out a bag, and began to pack away some of your things. You watch him quietly, trying to convince him it’s okay but he silences you with one intense look that he disappears quickly, replaced by the saddest eyes you’ve ever seen. “I’m gonna take care of you, okay?” He crosses the room, cupping your face gently, thumb grazing the skin beneath your bruised eye.

Once he’s done packing he guides you carefully out the window and into his car. He’s going to take you to Stu’s where he intends to share their big secret. Then he and Stu are going to make a night out of killing your family.

Candyman

He is a spirit, roaming and untethered, when he sees you and is first struck dumb by your beauty. He never thought he’d love again but the minute he sets eyes on you he knows he can grow to love you. That he could cherish you for the rest of your natural life and beyond.

He wants you. Needs you. He begins to visit you in dreams. Never nightmares. In your dreams he is a princely figure that loves you already, that has loved you more than anyone in your entire life.

You’ve never slept better than in the months where he woos you, and makes you fall in love with him, this phantom created by your own mind.

Part of you thinks you’re going crazy. How could you be falling in love with a man that isn’t real? But you’re a romantic and can’t deny the pull you feel within yourself. They may be only dreams but they make you happy. Daniel, makes you happy.

You don’t have to wonder for long if you’re losing your mind because he whispers to you in a dream that he can be real. Real as flesh and blood if you say a name three times in a mirror. Candyman.

You wake up the next morning feeling silly but can’t help doing it. Part of you desperately hoping that your escape from your real life could become your real life, if there was really some magic in the world.

It works of course and the minute you feel his arms around you, you start to cry tears of joy. But you’d forgotten about the fight you had with your family the night before. In your dreams you are always perfect and beautiful, your skin unmarred by the abuse you endure every day. But now, away from your dreams, Robert can see that someone has dared to harm you. His love. His darling.

He doesn’t need you to tell him who’s done this. One look at you and he seems to know. He knows you better than anyone else.

His hand, the human one, the one that isn’t for killing or hurting, touches gently your damaged skin. He presses a kiss to your forehead.

He has been summoned and there’s a price of blood to be paid.

#hannibal lecter x reader #jd x reader #billy loomis x reader #candyman x reader #slasher x reader #LOVED THIS SPICY PROMPT #revenge upon your family nonny!!!#Anonymous

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jaskiersvalley · 4 years

Note

I'm absolutely in love with your writing and your fics! Also I ship Eskel/Lambert now so thank you for that. Might I ask for some h/c with my new favourite wolves? Hope you're staying safe and well! 💜💜💜

Yes! Welcome to the Eskel/Lambert ship! It is perfectly set up for some hurt/comfort. This one is emotional rather than physical but I’ve been dying to explore this idea for a while and you’ve given me the perfect excuse, thank you!

CW: Suicidal thoughts, mentions of child abuse (aka Lambert’s shitty childhood)

Beautiful Ghosts

It was well known that Lambert was bitter and angry at everything. Destiny, Witchers, the world at large. He was grouchy, held a grudge and never seemed to have anything nice to say. It was just the way Lambert was and everyone around him grew to accept it. However, some days he was harder to deal with than others. There were times he lashed out at anyone and everyone, heedless of whether they had earned his ire or not. Usually, Eskel could ignore it, could accept that Lambert had difficult days. During those times he spent the afternoon with Geralt instead or made himself scarce. In the evenings Lambert would appear in his doorway, mouth curled down into an unhappy pout and he’d stare, almost like a dog expecting to get beaten. Instead, Eskel would hold up his blanket in invitation and he’d wait for Lambert to crawl in, curling up against his chest. His silence was the only apology and Eskel could live with that.

Time was something they lost track of easily. One year bled into the next, it didn’t matter how many passed them by, the important thing was they’d survived another season out on the Path and they were back together. A few months locked together in Kaer Morhen to weather the worst of the winter before it was a rinse and repeat of the previous year. The cycle was never ending but that was the life of a Witcher.

Snow had settled on the mountain, winter was well and truly in full swing and Lambert was unbearable. He had snapped at Vesemir, thrown Geralt’s gwent deck in his face when he won a round and even spat vitriol at Eskel. Not ever the usual gruff and highly strung “fuck off”. This time he went for below the belt.

“Don’t expect me to come to your bed tonight. I don’t want a pity fuck and especially not from you.”

That had hurt. Eskel didn’t give Lambert the chance to change his mind. He took a blanket and curled up by the fire in Geralt’s room, knowing Lambert wouldn’t ever approach him there. If only that had been the end of it. Alas, Lambert continued to be foul.

“I see you’ve already found another bed warmer. Tell me, does his bulk and ability to truly pin you down make you actually come?” Lambert sneered. “No more forcing yourself to come, screwing your eyes shut and imagining it’s anyone but me ploughing you, right?”

Slamming his slice of half eat bread down, Eskel stalked out of the room, unable to hear Lambert talk like that. At the edge of his hearing Geralt and Vesemir’s less than friendly chiding echoed in his ears but it didn’t mean much. Not when Lambert didn’t sound the least bit sorry.

It didn’t get easier. Training had Lambert hissing and spitting curses, goading Eskel and Geralt until something snapped. Eskel had had enough. He threw his sword to the side and bodily charged and Lambert, scooping him up and pinning him against the nearest wall.

“What the fuck has gotten into you?”

“Wouldn’t you just love to snap my neck and be done with it all?” Lambert laughed bitterly. “Just do it. Put us both out of our misery.

”As though burned, Eskel stepped away and Lambert turned, face scrunched up in anger and misery “Why won’t you just do it already?” he screamed.

Thankfully, Geralt and Vesemir had the good grace to walk away and give the two the illusion of privacy. It left Eskel facing Lambert who looked like he was only standing up out of sheer spite when everything about him screamed hurting and wanting to curl up in a ball.

“Why?” Eskel’s voice broke over the simple question.

“Why not? It’s not like any other death will be better. At least you’ll make it quick.”

Eskel couldn’t breathe as he listened. In the silence he could hear both their breathing, ragged and shallow. As he continued not to say anything Lambert shifted around. He had never been good at the whole silence thing, not when there were things to be said.

“It’s just not fair.” While it didn’t yet make much sense, it was a start.

Stepping closer, Eskel reached for him. After a moment of quivering hesitation, Lambert allowed himself to be pulled in for a hug. It wasn’t quite the usual hug where Lambert held Eskel as much as he was held. Instead, Lambert all but slumped into Eskel, letting the other hold him up. As gently as he could, Eskel lowered them to the ground and pulled Lambert closer to his chest.

“Everywhere I look, it’s misery.” The words were mumbled into his gambeson but Eskel could just about decipher them. “Not a single happy memory anywhere.”

“None at all?”

Lambert shook his head and burrowed closer. “You have Geralt. Shared memories, pranks, games you played.” For a moment Lambert broke off and sniffled. “I don’t have anyone. Childhood here was punishment and bullying. Nobody wanted to be friends with the runt who was always getting the shit kicked out of him in training and then the instructors caned him for being stupid.”

Heart sinking, Eskel closed his eyes. He knew Lambert hadn’t had the easiest of lives but, when put like that, it sounded harsher than he’d dared imagine.

“What about life before training?” Because Eskel knew very little about Lambert’s life beyond what they’ve shared. The scoff and bitter laugh suggested his heart was about to break further.

“Dad was a drunk. Took it out on me and mum. He was so glad to get rid of me when Vesemir claimed Law of Surprise.” It made Eskel wince but Lambert didn’t see it and so continued. “Shit life before being dragged here, shit life while here and then punted out into a shitty world with shitty prospects. I know things are just as shit for you on the Path. But you’ve got memories, these beautiful ghosts to haunt you. Your bumblebee on a string and all that. I’ve got nothing but screaming poltergeists to haunt my every waking and sleeping moment.”

Eskel wrapped himself around Lambert more firmly. “What about more recent memories?”

“The only good ones I have are of you. But we both know that can’t last. One of us will fuck up. Won’t return one winter. Selfishly, I really hope it’s me.”

It was getting cold now that they weren’t moving around. Eskel knew how much Lambert hated the cold. With as much care as he could, he scooped Lambert up and walked them back to the keep, up the old stone stairs until they were in his bedroom. Gently, he stripped Lambert and himself before clambering into bed to curl around Lambert yet again, pulling the covers above their heads. In the warm darkness he finally allowed all the pain to show on his face.

“I’m sorry. I wish I could make you promises but we both know they’ll be broken.” There was no happy ending for Witchers. They took what little scraps of happiness and comfort they could. Until that moment Eskel had never considered himself a rich man but, in comparison to Lambert, he had so much more. “I wish I could share those happy memories with you. But all I can offer is trying to make new ones from now on.”

Maybe it would be enough to help Lambert keep coming back to him. It was a hope he had to cling to. Because all Eskel wanted was to finally be enough for someone else.

#lambskel #eskel/lambert #eskel #lambert #the witcher #cw: suicidal thoughts #cw: child abuse #tldr: lambert has no happy memories

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snowe-zolynn-rogers · 3 years

Text

Pairings: Past Aizawa/Mandalay, Pre-Bakugou/Kirishima

Word Count: 2,006 Words

Summary: The Sports Festival, part 2.

Warnings: Fighting Mention, Cursing, Fire Mention, Bullying Mention, Trauma Mention, Injury Mention, Teen Pregnancy Mention, Pregnancy Mention, Partial Nudity Mention, Death Mention, let me know if I should tag anything else.

Usernames: Existence Is A Prison Aizawa: feral cat dad, Aoyama: gay salt, Hagakure: ranch flavored jello, Tokoyami: foil-mecha, Shinsou: farmer toshi, Kuroiro: life is a nightmare, Shiozaki: saviour, Tsunotori: schrodinger better run, Honenuki: pure, Monoma: nat20, Yamada: President Megaphone, Bakugou: deku-deck-you

Notes: Bakugou doesn't get chained down because fuck that part of the canon. The League will just go after him because he's powerful.

Aizawa, We Agreed No More Cats: Chapter 9

11:50 AM

Existence Is A Prison

gay salt: Yaoyorozu is amazing.

ranch flavored jello: She can bench press me anytime.

gay salt: To be fair, you'd let any strong lesbian bench press you.

ranch flavored jello: You're not wrong but you don't have to say it.

life is a nightmare: She did really well, I'm glad she's advancing despite that Tsubasa guy cutting her up with his glass.

deku deck-you: I think that guy might be related to one of my old friends before UA.

foil-mecha: What happened that you aren't friends anymore

deku deck-you: Tsubasa Ryuu? He got kidnapped or something during a break and I never saw him again. My other two friends? They were fake. They ditched me after the Sludge Villain incident.

nat20: I'll kick their asses for you.

deku deck-you: I wouldn't stop you from burning Aldera Middle School to the ground. For Deku's sake, mostly, but also because I hated those teachers.

feral cat dad: What happened at Aldera Middle School?

deku deck-you: Well, you probably know from Deku by now that I wasn't always easy on him or even this easy to get along with. From the time Deku was misdiagnosed as quirkless, I bullied him. Let's be honest, my reasoning wasn't important because I made his life a living hell just because mine was a living hell at home.

deku deck-you: We talked about everything the day after I moved into the dorms, so don't worry, there's no hard feelings and we're working through all the shit I did to him.

deku deck-you: But, anyway, the teachers at Aldera tried to fail Deku constantly because of his 'quirklessness' but I'd vouch his grades for him once I realized they were trying to flunk him out of the school. And, after the Sludge Villain happened, they began doing the same thing to me because they thought I was influenced by a villain even though I'd told them so many times that I was basically a hostage.

feral cat dad: Looks like I'm opening a formal complaint against Aldera Middle School after the Sports Festival.

deku deck-you: Don't, me and Deku just want to leave Aldera behind us.

feral cat dad: Fine.

feral cat dad: Oh, they had a draw while we were texting. Jeez, that was fast.

deku deck-you: Don't you dare underestimate Kirishima.

ranch flavored jello: Someone has a crush.

deku deck-you: Don't you dare speak of this. I'll launch Deku at you.

ranch flavored jello: Jeez, fine. Feral Deku scares me.

deku deck-you: Good. I gotta go.

12:20 PM

Existence Is A Prison

farmer toshi: Wow, Kats. You did great.

deku deck-you: Can't talk right now. She's in pain and won't let go of me.

deku deck-you is now offline

feral cat dad: Fuck, she overstressed herself.

farmer toshi: I want so badly to check on her but I need to fight Tokoyami now.

1:15 PM

Existence Is A Prison

farmer toshi: Katsuki, you're coming back soon, right? I mean, your match is next after Todoroki and Yaoyorozu.

deku deck-you is online

deku deck-you: I'm back, who's won?

farmer toshi: Kirishima won against Tetsutetsu in their rematch, I won against Fumi, Midoriya won against Toru, Kiyo won against Shizuka, Kaminari just won against Fujioka.

deku deck-you: Okay, good.

ranch flavored jello: I'm down by the entrance to the field. What's wrong with Yaoyorozu?

ranch flavored jello has started a video chat

[Yaoyorozu is shown fumbling around a bit in the ring and Todoroki is in a fighting stance, but drops it when she's facing the wrong way]

Yaoyorozu, why are you stumbling? -Unknown

Shut up and fight me, Todoroki! -Unknown

Something's wrong with you, I won't compete if you're hurt. -Unknown

Just fight me! -Unknown

[Yaoyorozu is shown collapsing and Midnight goes to check on her.]

Yaoyorozu cannot compete due to a previous injury, this match goes to Todoroki! -Unknown

ranch flavored jello has ended the group chat

gay salt: Mon dieu. Is she alright?

ranch flavored jello: She's muttering about her eyes.

ranch flavored jello: Oh god, there's glass in her eyes.

feral cat dad: Get up here, Toru. Now, you don't have to see that.

ranch flavored jello: I won't leave her alone without anyone she knows. I won't. She can't see, Dad.

feral cat dad: Okay, keep her company. But please be aware, they're probably going to do surgery to try to save her vision.

ranch flavored jello: It must have happened when she made that smoke bomb and Tsubasa couldn't see her.

feral cat dad: They're already having Katsuki against Kirishima to ease the tension in the stadium. Clearly, Katsuki's winning already.

2:00 PM

Existence Is A Prison

feral cat dad: Yeah, Katsuki won. So did Shinsou against Midoriya, Kiyo won against Kaminari, and Katsuki won against Todoroki.

ranch flavored jello: At least there's some good news.

deku deck-you: What good news? Icyhot wouldn't fight me with his fire and we spent like ten minutes yelling about trauma before the fucker got blown back so hard when his fire hit my explosion that he's now got a concussion.

feral cat dad: I understand you're angry, but you didn't do anything wrong, Katsuki.

deku deck-you: I know, I just feel bad. Now two of the people I've fought today are out of commission temporarily and I feel responsible.

feral cat dad: I know, and I also know they'll both forgive you. You went off with Uraraka for almost a hour and you didn't mean to injure Todoroki.

2:20 PM

Existence Is A Prison

feral cat dad: I'm so proud of all three of you.

farmer toshi: Katsuki, you're helping put my shoulder into place as a punishment for pulling it out. Recovery Girl already said it was fine.

deku deck-you: A punishment I'll accept fully for doing it in the first place. After I'm done visiting Pink Cheeks again.

deku deck-you is now offline

feral cat dad: My chaotic sons.

ranch flavored jello: Alright, I'm back. Momo can't leave the hospital tonight and she's been instructed to have Recovery Girl heal her in two days.

feral cat dad: There's my daughter. It's a good thing you kids are off for two days after today because you need time to heal after all that.

feral cat dad: Nezu's already insisted Yaoyorozu stay in the dorms because he doesn't want her too far from campus and her parents live in Tokyo prefecture and he feels it's too far for an injures student to travel.

feral cat dad: Tokage is already getting spoken to by Nezu, so she'll likely be added to this chat soon enough. Toru, can you turn on Yaoyorozu's screen reader for her so I can add her to this chat.

ranch flavored jello: Done!

feral cat dad has added Yaoyorozu

Yaoyorozu: Hello everyone!

foil-mecha: Hi, Momo!

Yaoyorozu: Hello! I'm going to take a nap, the surgery was very taxing so I'm quite tired. I'll message you all later when I wake up.

ranch flavored jello: I'll stay with her, don't worry!

Yaoyorozu is now offline

feral cat dad: You haven't changed her username yet, Hitoshi.

farmer toshi: I figure she probably doesn't know our usernames yet so I'll do it later after we tell her ours.

deku deck-you is now online

deku deck-you: Nezu's with Uraraka so I can't visit her right now.

farmer toshi: Is she okay?

deku deck-you: I don't know if I'm allowed to say. Honestly, if it were me and someone told other people I didn't know well without me knowing, I'd call it an invasion of privacy.

feral cat dad: Nezu said Uraraka should be fine. There's no need to worry about her, Recovery Girl is nothing if not adamant on the care of her patients.

deku deck-you: Alright, I'm allowed in now that she's asking for me.

deku deck-you is now offline

life is a nightmare: I wonder how badly hurt she is to want Katsuki there for comfort.

3:00 PM

Existence Is A Prison

gay salt: screenshotofurarakaslatestinstagramphoto.jpg

ochako&baby.jpg

Liked by blastyboykats and 57 others

uraravity Welcome to the world baby boy, despite being unexpected.

View all 15 comments

minabeana Oh my gosh, that baby is so cute. I love him already.

winniepie He's so cute.

kiripima Aw, welcome to the world, little guy.

sparklegirl He's cute, Ocha, mon ami!

michipeachy 🥰🥰🥰

farmer toshi: Does Uraraka have a baby sibling?

foil-mecha: Last I heard she was an only sibling.

nat20: Maybe her mom had the baby today?

feral cat dad: Alright, Uraraka is good now, not that I need to tell you since Aoyama apparently stalks people's accounts on everything.

gay salt: Hey, she gave me her account name willingly! I have all the other girl's accounts.

feral cat dad: Anyway. Tokage's also done talking to Nezu. Here's the girls of the hour.

feral cat dad has added Uraraka and Tokage

Uraraka: Hi, guys.

gay salt: Ocha, are you okay?

Uraraka: Oh yeah, Nezu said me and my baby can stay at the dorms.

gay salt: Quoi? Your baby?

Uraraka: Yeah, didn't Katsuki or Aizawa tell you all? That's why I'm moving into the dorms. I went after my match in the Sports Festival with Katsuki and they had to end up doing an emergency C-Section because they weren't finding a heartbeat. Thankfully, my idiot daughter is fine, just chaotic.

gay salt: What's her name?

Uraraka: Uraraka Emiyo.

gay salt: I will spoil her.

foil-mecha: How cute is she?

Uraraka: katsukicryingholdingemiyo.jpg

foil-mecha: Truly a glorious child. I assure you, us 1a students will assist you in your raising of dear Emiyo as best we can.

ranch flavored jello: I'm not good with baby-babies but I'll try.

Yaoyorozu is now online

Yaoyorozu: I'll help as well, once I'm able to.

Uraraka: It's okay if you don't want to, Momo.

Yaoyorozu: I don't believe you were there for it but, in the second rounds, I had to forfeit the match to Todoroki because, in the first round, Tsubasa Yuudai accidentally got glass in my eyes. My win in the first round was a fluke and I was running only off instinct when I got him out of bounds but, since taking the glass out can't fix the amount of nerve damage, I'll likely be blind for the foreseeable future.

Uraraka: Oh gods, Momo, I'd come give you a hug but I can't move around much yet.

Yaoyorozu: It's fine, Uraraka. It was an accident after all, he didn't mean to do that but the smoke bomb I made obscured his vision.

life is a nightmare: If either of you need anything, just text us, someone will get it to you.

Yaoyorozu: Thank you, but I have Toru for now!

Uraraka: Thanks. I'm good, I've got a Katsuki.

nat20: You say that like you've roped him in or something.

Uraraka: Well he's been proclaiming that he's Emiyo's uncle for the whole thirty minutes she's been in this world.

schrodinger better run: To be fair, is he not her uncle by now?

Uraraka: He is. He's the first besides my parents and me to hold her. He's definitely her uncle.

pure: Has he even put her down yet?

Uraraka: katsukiasleepwithemmiyoinhisarms.jpg

Uraraka: No, he hasn't. My mom's about to pick her up though. She's worried she'll fall and I have to feed her and all so he'll be temporarily losing holding rights anyway since I have to make him leave to feed her.

gay salt: He's sleeping, Ocha. Plus, I thought you knew he was 💅

Uraraka: He's gay?

gay salt: No, he's trans, Ocha, us girls had a whole meeting on including our ftm classmates on girl days if they're comfortable with it and you forgot?

Uraraka: Oh yeah, in that case I'm whipping out the titty so my mom can show my how to feed a baby.

Uraraka is now offline

feral cat dad: You kids are going to give me a heart attack one day and I'll put all your names on my tombstone as a reason I died.

@everythingisstardust

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