#and started doing it regularly himself when he became too afraid to take the risk to do any better | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gch1995 · 2 years

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Its like they cant accept that victims can be bad or deeply flawed people.

Just because something worse happened to them doesnt lessen their wrongdoings. (though sometimes it feels like it does)

Same as their wrongdoings dont make them victims any less.

Yep! The Jedi apologists can all accept that Anakin Skywalker was a victim who eventually also became an enabler and perpetrator of systematic abuse, enslavement, and war crimes that he got taught to rationalize as “necessary” and “for the greater good” by those with power over him because he becomes their enemy Darth Vader. Regardless of the compromised agency of a lifetime of abuse, conditioning for subservience and weaponry in slavery and two space soldier cults, emotional negligence, poor emotional/mental health (PTSD symptoms), physical disability, and oppression under corrupt and morally hypocritical authority figures his whole life, it is still ultimately always made clear that he always had a conscience, which he ultimately made a decision to disregard after going dark in his fear of the unknown, fear of being hurt, fear of abandonment, personal insecurities, and self-loathing until his son came along for the next 23 years.

Yeah, Anakin’s ability of taking the chance to do better were always risky, he had PTSD symptoms, the dark side was like a drug addiction, he was conditioned and manipulated by both of these space soldier cults his whole life, and I can see why he genuinely felt convinced he didn’t have a choice but to keep serving these corrupt authority figures as a weapon. I do think some sort of diminished responsibility criminal defense could potentially be raised for Anakin in real life because of all that. However, within the narrative, it is also made consistently clear that Anakin Skywalker is also his own worst enemy in his arrogant overconfidence in his skills and power, fear of the unknown, self-loathing, selfishness, and eventual apathy to even try to do better after going dark and losing those he loved, too, so he’s not wholly innocent by reason of insanity. He had a conscience, which he ultimately made a decision to disregard after going dark until Luke came along, not just because of the compromised agency, but also because he was too afraid to make the effort to fight for his rights and too deeply entrenched in his own self-loathing.

Anakin was always a victim of corrupt and oppressive authority his whole life with compromised agency that never allowed for him to guarantee safety doing any better, so it’s not entirely his fault he became Vader and remained under Sidious for as long as he did, but he still became a victimizer who willingly committed monstrous deeds against countless innocent people as Vader for 23 years because he was too deeply entrenched in his own anger, fear, hatred, and self-loathing to even try. Thus, he was worthy of condemnation for his crimes. Not as bad as the ones he got at the Revenge of the Sith but like 10-20 year imprisonment term with proper therapy and/or a clean and quick death penalty from Obi Wan on Mustafar when he got the high ground. However, redemption/atonement is something that he is still only allowed to seek at the end because he accepts that he did become a villain, not just because of those with power over him abusing him, oppressing him, and manipulating him for their own ends, but because he also became too selfish to even try to do any better in his fear of the unknown and self-loathing. He still had a conscience and accepted that the horrible means he used against others over the years were not valid justifications to achieve worthy ends, which is why he was able to gain that forgiveness from Luke.

Yet, this fandom can’t accept that the adults in the Jedi Order and the Republic government of the prequels were deeply flawed people who became enablers and perpetrators of systematic classism, child abuse, child murder, child endangerment, child conscription and/or grooming for politics and law enforcement, slavery on the outer rims, and other human rights violations and war crimes which they got taught and/or convinced themselves was “necessary evil for the greater good” to cover up as an excuse in their arrogant overconfidence, fear of the unknown, and fear of taking a risk to do any better, even before Palpatine got elected as Chancellor of their senate.

Even after Palpatine became Chancellor, though, if we’re going to apply the same “guilty of enabling and perpetuating horrible crimes but also a victim of grooming and oppression with compromised agency” standard to Anakin Skywalker/Darth Vader for his crimes under the Jedi and Palpatine because he still had a conscience, and learned to use that “greater good” mantra as an excuse for the atrocities he committed and/or enabled to try to achieve what he believed were worthy ends since he eventually became too afraid to try, regardless of the odds against him, then the adults with power over him in the Jedi Order and Republic of his time get the same sentence for their systematic enablement and perpetration of crimes and human rights violations “for the greater good,” regardless of the grooming under Palpatine because they all had consciences they decided to disregard out of fear, too.

Not to mention the fact that the adults in the Jedi Order and Republic were already enabling and perpetrating systematic corruption that they deemed “necessary” in their fear of the unknown, even before Palpatine came along. Anakin started out as a good boy who only became a genuinely dangerous and emotionally/mentally unstable human disaster after the Jedi Council of alleged “space soldier therapists” took him from his only good parent, left her in slavery, isolated him, oppressed him, taught him to use lethal weapons as a child, taught him slavery was “okay” on the outer rims where he came from, and taught him having regular human feelings of ambition, anger, concern for loved ones, desire, and fear were things to be completely denied for the next ten years he was under Obi Wan.

Are they directly responsible for Anakin’s crimes against their order as an adult, and did their entire Order deserve what he did? No, of course not, especially not the kids. However, Obi Wan and the Council of Jedi were his legal guardians, he seemed like a good boy before he got involved with their space police cult, and the Council all had positions of power over him which they were too afraid to use kindly and wisely in their fear of the unknown. Thus, they contributed to his downfall. It would not be possible if they hadn’t sucked. Their treatment, missions, and training methods of Anakin and their recruits would have continued to play out in a similarly abusive, corrupt, dangerous, isolating, and toxic manner, even without Palpatine elected as Chancellor to implement the clone wars, so they have a hand in causing the downfall of their own Order and Republic almost as much as he did in power.

As much as their overall Order and government didn’t deserve Chancellor Palpatine, the clone wars, Darth Maul, Darth Vader, and Order 66, though, the adults in the Jedi and Republic didn’t need for those people and factors to be involved in the prequels for their governments/organizations to ultimately go down. They were already corrupt in a number of ways that was inevitably going to lead to their own destruction soon enough.

Even before Palpatine was elected as Chancellor, I can completely understand why Jedi would grow resentful of living that life of completely oppressive and subservient emotional/individual denial of self under Yoda in service “to the greater good” of the Republic, especially if I were in Anakin’s shoes, which most of us would be, and had just enough experience and memories of real life outside of their cult to realize it was abusive, isolating, exceedingly restrictive, morally hypocritical, and soul crushing trying to live in total emotional/individual denial and/or secrecy because I wasn’t allowed to have normal human connections, emotional expression, and personal freedoms without being made to feel like shit all the time by the rest of them for trying to be human like the rest of the “democracy” they claimed to be serving of their Republic.

I can totally understand why people like Anakin, his mother, and the other people in slavery on Tatooine and the other planets on the outer rims would grow to hate the Jedi Order and Republic who claimed to be “dedicated to democracy.”

I can completely understand why it is unwise to train children under the age of 18 to use lethal weapons. Yeah, children being soldiers has happened historically before in real life, too, and look how that turned out. A lot of them also developed antisocial behaviors, anxiety, attachment disorders, C-PTSD/PTSD, separation anxiety, and all of these other issues, too.

Palpatine was a monster who no one in the old Republic and Jedi Order deserved. However, while these characters all were also his victims with at least somewhat compromised agency as a result, the Jedi Order and Republic of the prequels were already on a path towards self-destruction before he even got elected, too. It wasn’t going to change, unless more of them became brave enough to take a risk to take a risk to make a change and do the right thing. Sadly, they weren’t because they were too deeply entrenched in their own arrogance, denial, and fear of the unknown.

It’s also just a lack of understanding of basic human psychology from this fandom. Are there bad people in the world out there who do horrible things for petty spite and shits and giggles? Absolutely. However, many people who become enablers and/or perpetrators of abuse, crime, classism, corruption, oppression, and other wrongdoings aren’t out there consciously creating misery for others because they genuinely enjoy it. Many of them are and/or once were victims of and/or witnesses to similar abuse, crime, classism, corruption, and oppression by others in their environment who taught them to normalize it as “for the greater good,” “necessary evil,” “for your own good,” and so on, which they then went on to enable and perpetrate themselves as adults because it was an easier and safer way to achieve worthy ends under pressure than taking the risk to do better when odds seem to be against them to be safe doing better, and they genuinely convince themselves they don’t have a choice.

#star wars anon #anakin skywalker #darth vader #star wars prequels #anti jedi apologists #republic critical #jedi critical #victims can become abusers #abusers can become victims #especially when it’s a systematic issue #and there’s limited opportunity for safe escape from that toxicity and/or opportunities to stand up for themselves #that whole ‘I do this for your own good’ ‘it’s for the greater good’ ‘don’t make me hurt you’ mentality is common for abusers and criminals #and while that doesn’t mean their innocent in spite of the good intentions they convince themselves they have #those rationalizations abusers and criminals use to try to minimize and normalize the impact of the harm they cause others is learned #those rationalizations are used to cover up for the fact that those abusers and/or criminals are too afraid to take a risk to do better #and Anakin/Vader is definitely not the only character in Star Wars who became guilty of using those rationalizations to normalize atrocities #he learned how to do it from obi wan Yoda and the Jedi Council too not just sidious #and started doing it regularly himself when he became too afraid to take the risk to do any better

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wri0thesley · 3 years

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May I request some La Squadra childhood headcanons (upbringing/family/habits/demeanor) :)) Maybe Mista and Abbacchio too if it’s not too much trouble since we already saw a bit of baby Bruno and it made me so curious about the other two! I always imagined Abbacchio to be a bit of a teacher’s pet as a kid lol. Your writing brings me life tysm!!!!

warnings for abusive family, human experimentation, misogyny, illness, hospitals, death, etc!

Risotto’s family did not care much about him. He’s the middle child of five - they grew up in a rural part of Sicily, in a house that used to be a farmhouse but was merely a house by the time Risotto came along (aside from a flock of chickens constantly in the gardens). He had a traditional Italian family full of people - various aunts, uncles and cousins - but his cousin was his favourite, seeing in Risotto’s quiet nature something similar to his own. Risotto was uncomfortable with there being too many people around and found his home life cramped and uncomfortable and loud. At the local village school he was often hunted out for games of sport (his height and muscle growing in at an early age), but he shied away from making friends, not sure how to handle himself around people who shouted and laughed, envying his siblings for everything seeming so natural. He often stayed with the cousin, and it’s through them he discovered metal music and his now signature look. His parents didn’t have time for him, but his cousin always did, becoming a makeshift father figure where Risotto’s failed. He grew very attached, and as we know, his cousins death hit him hard.

Formaggio grew up with a single father; his mother simply disappeared in the middle of the night and he never heard from her again. He was always loud, brash and cocky - his father was much the same way. They moved around from place to place, his father taking odd jobs to sustain them and never really getting the hang of them. His father was fairly young and a perpetual teenager, and Formaggio was much the same way. Despite living in occasional poverty, he always had a smile and he and his father were close to one another. He did not really make friends - other children were aware of his unwashed clothes, the fact his lunch was not made as neatly as theirs, the fact that his address was a one-bedroom apartment on the bad side of town - so he turned to acting out and violence, gaining a reputation as a Badly Behaved Child. His father fell into Passione in the need to support his son, and like father like son, Formaggio followed in his footsteps at fourteen (finding a camaraderie and sense of responsibility he never had at school and subsequently just stopping going there).

Illuso got into Passione for the money and the power. He was an only child and he had a nice upbringing, honestly - he just found himself not special at anything, and he desperately wanted to be. He flitted from hobby to hobby and interest to interest; he was clever and he noticed things, and neither of his parents really knew how to deal with their sharp-tongued child. He was a bit of a bully at school, but not the kind that is ever found out - Illuso’s bullying was quieter than that, whispered words and rumours that never seemed to find their way back to him. He was well-acquainted with blackmail before he turned sixteen. He knew how to sniff out weaknesses in other people - he was always surrounded by people, but it was a lottery as to whether they liked Illuso or whether they just didn’t want to be on his wrong side. Always willing to volunteer for things, too confident for his own good - eventually, he stopped caring about being ‘special’ at something, and just worked on being the ‘best around him’.

Melone’s backstory can be found here. Both of his parents were academics and lecturers in genetic science, and he’s the eldest child by eight years. His family moved around rather a lot. He has two younger sets of twins as siblings; one set of boys, and one set of girls. Growing up, his parents considered him less interesting and a little slow - he turned to science and genetics as a way to get their attention and praise; despite the fact he showed a natural affinity for it, by this time, they were far more interested in experimenting on their younger children and Melone was ignored. His nature is curious and insistent - he learnt to insist or to be ignored. He had to look after his younger siblings a lot growing up; they were home-schooled where he was not, and the strange separation of them and him and all of the children at school (Melone not quite fitting into either group) meant that he always seemed just a little off.

Prosciutto is a mafia man through and through. His family are entrenched in old bloodlines and uninvestigated deaths - unfortunately, though, they are a family that had somewhat fallen from grace by Prosciutto’s birth. The definition of faded glamour and keeping up appearances; rooms in a big, drafty old house that have an old bed and a falling apart dressing table. His father always talked to him about how it was his and his brothers’ job to keep the bloodline going - a traditional chauvinist of a man. His mother was very quiet and pretty; she encouraged him to small interests like old music and fashion, but was always silent around her husband. He grew up knowing his life was expendable. Youngest son of two; his elder brother died within months of finally being given his assignment within Passione and honestly, Prosciutto knows his father would rather he have died. A quiet little boy who did not make friends (he had a tutor) and had too much of the weight of the world on his shoulders in the knowledge of how many of his mother’s jewels were pasteboard, where the guns were kept, and just how many people he saw regularly were murderers. At his assignment at sixteen, Prosciutto had to learn exactly how to blend in, because many of the mafiosos he was suddenly surrounded by did not appreciate what they saw as his superiority.

Pesci was an only child of a single mother; his father passed away when he was young. He was rather sickly growing up, and it made his mother indulgent - despite growing up fairly middle class, he never wanted for anything, and they lived well beyond their means. His mother fussed over him, always afraid that he was going to have a relapse into his childhood illness - very much a child wrapped in cotton wool. It gave him his own complex about taking risks; he didn’t want to get hurt. He didn’t want to be rejected by other children. He was slow at his schoolwork but devoted to his mother, and other children saw him as a prime target to bully. He was kicked around a lot at school and it eventually made him too easy to subdue when he suddenly filled out and shot up and became a threat; found himself, too often, a henchman to more articulate, meaner children. Grateful to be accepted, he went along with the flow, despite feeling in the very core of his gut that he was disgusted by them. He ended up in Passione because his mother needed medical treatment and in trying to sort it out realised just how much debt they were in.

Ghiaccio just had a normal run-of-the-mill described as ‘average’ by everyone upbringing - both of his parents, an only child, a mother with a professional job, middle-class. His father was partially deaf - in my experience, people with deaf parents either speak very loudly or very quietly, and Ghiaccio has gone for the former. He learnt LIS at a very early age, and it’s part of the reason he can be so anal about pronunciation and language as a whole - he’s utterly fascinated by it, and that fascination started in early childhood. His parents were also indulgent of him, but having a younger brother meant that he didn’t get the full brunt of that indulgence - his brother was a little more of a ‘rough and tumble’ boy. He liked football and weights, and when he took up a sport Ghiaccio’s parents decided Ghiaccio should learn to do something too and asked him what he thought - they were surprised when he said ice skating, but figured he would go into ice hockey or something. He didn’t. For a while, he was fairly well-known in the competitive figure skating under eighteens circuit. It gave him two things; one, a competitive need to win and be good at things (and a propensity to tantrum when he lost) and two, a taste for flashy, expensive things (have you seen this man’s car). His parents eventually didn’t know how to deal with his arrogance, and he fell into Passione based on a ‘sponsor’ he ended up embroiled with at nineteen when his parents didn’t want to fund his ‘hobby’ anymore (they kept pouring resources into his younger brother, of course - Ghiaccio always felt a bit like they didn’t take him seriously). He left ice skating competitively behind, but he couldn’t leave behind the nice things or the anger issues he accrued.

I’ve written about Sorbet and Gelato’s childhood/backstory here! But a brief, shorter version:

Gelato had a loving family and a privileged upbringing. Always enough money, always enough to eat - an only child, who perhaps was a little rowdy at school but whomst his parents were very proud of. Both of them were traditional types; thinks a man should be strong, should be the real driving force of all relationships - they were extremely proud of him going into the army. Cleverer than people tend to give him credit for, sharp-eyed, a constant humming need to be doing something with his hands.

Sorbet was orphaned at a young age in a house fire and taken in by a church orphanage. He’s quiet but equally clever; his cleverness tends to be a little less in your face. He was a comforting presence to other people and took care of the younger boys (even now, he feels a sense of duty to some of La Squadra) - being low-voiced, soothing and commanding. He spent a lot of time reading. The church orphanage was poor; Sorbet has learnt to appreciate luxury where Gelato takes it for granted and it’s part of the reason he’s so concerned with finances even in his forties.

Abbacchio grew up in a houseful of women. His father left when he was still young; he was . . . not a nice man, and Abbacchio has vague memories of his mother carefully applying concealer over black eyes. It’s part of the reason Abbacchio became a police officer - knowing that he was still out there, not paying for what he’d done . . . Abbacchio wanted to ensure other people did not go through it. He had a little sister (by six years) who adored him, and his grandmother (who had once been an opera singer and still had a touch of that old-time glamour). He was fairly well off; at least, after he and his mother went to live with her mother again. His grandmother was EXTREMELY indulgent of her serious pretty-eyed grandson (his affinity for opera comes from her) who wanted so hard to be a Good Man. He was made fun of as a child for being a teacher’s pet and a nerd, you’re right - he adopted being a goth and dressing like that fairly early in his life. Nobody was going to threaten to punch him in leather and black lipstick, he thought - and nobody, too, needed to know that his CD player was blasting Monteverdi and not heavy metal.

Mista was the only child of an unreliable mother and a father who left when he was four (he kept very vaguely in touch; Mista has three little sisters who he sees occasionally but keeps quiet about his employ to. After the events of VA, he’s established a fund for each of them, but he wasn’t really permitted to see them much growing up). Even after his parents leaving and his neighbour’s loss of an eye (and the subsequent setting in of his fear of the number four), he was an easy-going child who made friends easily and smiled at all and sundry; he was never particularly book-clever, but he was good-natured and had many friends. His mother’s lack of reliability meant that he became very fond of simple things other people took for granted - when she died, he was sad, but his life did not change much. He’d already learnt to fend for himself when it came to food and the like; often coming home to an empty house and simply making do. (The lack of food in the house is part of the reason he gained such an affinity for things he saw as luxuries like wines and cheeses). He learnt to use his dark eyes and charming smile and warm nature to win sleepovers with schoolfriends and evening meals with their parents. Always a little bit behind his peers in having cool gadgets or interesting stories, Mista was content just to have a simple life and good health.

#jjba #jojo headcanons #risotto nero #formaggio #illuso #prosciutto #pesci #melone #ghiaccio #sorbet #gelato #leone abbacchio #guido mista #Anonymous

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sluttbuttsstuff · 3 years

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La Squadra Backstory Headcanons Part 1 (GHIACCHIO AND MELONE

Since we’re probably never going to get any straight answers on their backstory, i’m writing my own for them. Obviously, none of this is canon and guesswork

WARNINGS: none really, aside from dark themes

GHIACCHIO:

Came from a very large and very poor family, the youngest of many children.

As a result, he was the last to get anything-last to get fed, last to get clothed, last to get attention.

He didn’t get the proper care he truly needed, so he had to fight and take what he really needed, or he would have to make do without.

He’s always had awful eyesight, but it wasn’t until stealing a classmate’s glasses that happened to be exactly what Ghiacchio needed, he fought the kid for them and gave him a black eye

“There, now you can’t even use them, they’re better off with me!”

Despite getting into a lot of fights, School was actually something of a sanctuary for Ghiaccio.

He got the attention he needed, he was able to get free food through the lunch program, and excelled in several sports activities and physical Ed.

During middle school, under encouragement of a favorite teacher of his, he dedicated himself to his studies, and enrolled in as many extra curricular activities as he could stomach.

With his impressive physical fitness, natural intelligence, and a little anger management, his teacher convinced him he could get into a good college with a full scholarship that he wouldn’t otherwise be able to get into

Ghiacchio wasn’t always as loud, angry and violent as he was in La Squadra, but he did have issues with anger management, an inferiority complex, and a self-sabotaging need to always be right.

But his teacher, now his mentor, never gave up on him. He took Ghiaccio to therapy, gave him a shoulder to lean on, and served as the support he never got from his parents or siblings.

His family had no interest or desire to get involved with his life, or offer any support or encouragement.

School was tough- it was extremely stressful and he was pushing himself to his limits. He had very little sleep, had to maintain a 4.0 grade average, but despite it all, Ghiacchio was very happy.

His mentor was like a father figure to him, without him, Ghiacchio wouldn’t have been able to get as far as he did.

And then the worst happened.

His mentor died naturally, of a heart attack, he was an older gentleman with a history of heart disease in his family.

It still broke Ghiaccio.

He skipped school for the first time in years to attend his funeral, and ended up getting in a fight with one of his teachers at school the next day.

Ghiacchio and his teacher argued over the correct pronunciation of a word, but really Ghiacchio was angry at his teachers and school-hell, the WORLD- that no one else had been at his mentor’s funeral. He felt like no one cared about his mentor, and that included him.

He broke the teacher’s nose, as well as several other bruises and nearly gave him a concussion.

Obviously, he was expelled from school after that, and sent to a juvenile prison. He was able to finish high school in juvie, but no university or sports team wanted to sponsor him or offer him a scholarship.

It is his greatest regret, not being able to get the scholarship he and his mentor worked so hard for

But at the same time, he doesn’t regret attacking his other teacher and leaving school; he couldn’t stand by and let his mentor’s memory be forgotten, besmirched.

He would be picked up by Passione through the juvie system, he kept getting into petty fights with others and managed to impress some soldatos into offering him initiation.

I like to think that his strict grammar pet peeve stems from his mentor, who taught italian grammar and literature studies, and as a result was especially strict with teaching Ghiacchio proper italian.

The ice theme for his stand? Yeah, it’s funny because he’s a hot head, but i think it’s his stand, as an extension of his mentor’s teachings trying to literally “Cool” him down. He has to use a lot of focus to use White Album properly, just like how his studies and athletics would distract him from his own mental health issues.

At least, this is just what I think lol

MELONE:

Hoo-boy, this kiddo has to have had some serious family issues

His father was the head doctor at the most prestigious fertility clinic in Italy

(He was also secretly into eugenics, and lots of other nasty stuff, but let’s get into that later)

He was so successful, he had even cured his own wife’s infertility

At least, that’s what he had everyone believe

Secretly, Melone’s father had had an extramarital affair with his secretary, who became pregnant and had Melone.

Under extreme threats and blackmail, Melone’s father managed to take Melone away from his biological mother, and convince his wife to raise Melone as her own.

Needless to say, Melone’s father was a very bad, manipulative man

Despite this, his wife had always wanted a child, and actually loved him and cared for him deeply, and Melone became her child as much as his biological mother

Melone’s father was very strict and had high expectations of Melone from a young age.

Melone had private tutors, a personal chef and nutrition plan, and even a physical fitness teacher who would regularly exercise him.

Melone had no other siblings, surprisingly, despite his father’s obsession with eugenics and breeding.

His father must have been afraid of the possible scandal that would arise from an affair or divorce (italy is still a heavily catholic country after all) and his wife, Melone’s “adoptive” mother was still barren,

Since Melone was an only child, home schooled and surrounded by paid lackeys of his father, he was very lonely.

His mother was his one and only real friend in his life. She would sneak him dessert snacks, read him fairytale stories if he got tired of his textbooks, and even played games like jump rope and hide and seek with him.

The entire reason his “Adoptive” mother had married his father in the first place was because it had been her lifelong dream to have children, and she was determined to give Melone all the love his father couldn’t and wouldn’t.

And that was life for a long time- it wasn’t the best childhood but Melone couldn’t really complain. His father kind of scared him, but at the same time he earned Melone’s respect.

Melone was interested in Biology, and learning about genetics like his father.

And when the stress of living up to his father, and his own, expectations became too hard, he could always run to his mother.

Then, Melone’s biological mother found him

Melone’s biological mother had never really gotten over losing her only child, and despite the monthly salary and isolated home she had received for her silence, she couldn’t forget about Melone.

It started innocuously enough, clipping out pictures she saw of him and his father from the clinic’s advertisement brochures, watching him from afar play at the beach with his mother on vacation.

But it wasn’t enough- she couldn’t just GIVE UP her child.

She started to stalk him, taking photos of him playing in his backyard, going through the garbage to find old school projects and tests in the trash can. She would try to sneak into the house, bribing guards and getting in fights with the tutors trying to get into Melone’s home.

Melone didn’t know the whole story between his parents and this “Surrogate” (he had been sworn to secrecy by his mother, knowing it was important to tell adopted children early on or risk causing severe trauma later in life) but he knew his parents were becoming more and more stressed out.

One day, it came to a head, and Melone’s biological mother successfully was able to meet Melone.

Melone was a little afraid at first, but his other mommy was so nice to him, and gave him lots of hugs and love like his other mom and played with him at the park.

They actually had a really fun time together, and it had a lasting impact on Melone for the rest of his life.

But all good things have to end, and for the first time in his young life, Melone was confronted with death.

Eventually, Melone’s bodyguards (his father had employed some after finding out about Melone's biological mother stalking him) caught up to them, and Melone and his mother tried to escape.

Melone’s other mother was with the bodyguards,and when Melone saw her, he was unsure of what to do.

He loved both of his mothers, he wanted to stay with both of them, why were they making him choose?

Under His father’s orders The bodyguards, who Melone later found out were associated with passione, shot his biological mother. Terrified Melone would be shot as well, his adoptive mother dove in front of him to protect him from the bullets.

Both of his mothers were shot, his father had ordered them to kill the bio mother no matter what, even if Melone got shot. Apparently, MElone’s father would rather risk his son’s life than let his bio mother escape with them and risk the scandal. Knowing this, his adoptive mother was shot and killed protecting him.

On that day, Melone lost both of his mothers, the most important people in his life, all because of his father.

It took a long time for Melone to process what happened-his father didn’t help things either. He was just as cold and clinical with Melone as ever, and with no one who truly cared about him in his life, Melone withdrew more and more into himself and his studies.

He was civil with his father, and maintained his studies and health, until he officially turned 18.

After years of planning, he poisoned his father in his sleep and killed him.

The Police were never able to press charges or find any evidence on him, but Passione noticed, and saw potential in him.

They gave him an ultimatum, pass initiation and join their ranks, or get turned into the police by passione and get his inheritance stolen by the gang.

Without much of a choice, Melone agrees, and finds he actually likes life in la squadra

It goes without saying, his mothers were a huge influence in both his life and his stand.

Both of his mother’s lives were so sad and lonely because they couldn’t have a child.

He desperately wishes he could have used Baby Face on his mothers, either not realizing or not caring about the implications.

Despite his mother’s best efforts, Melone never really had proper social interaction as a child, and it seriously screwed him over in life, even interacting with la squadra.

He’s read up on how to behave in public, social psychology, but it's not the same as learning as a child

It’s easier to learn those things as a child, which is why he makes sure to spend at least a little time with each Baby Face on how to behave and treat others; at least they can succeed where he couldn’t.

It’s also why he can’t control himself around women- he thinks he’s genuinely helping them by giving them children or getting them pregnant.

He’s giving them what his own mothers couldn’t

And you can BET he takes his role as father VERY seriously- you saw how he taught and trained Baby Face in canon. He’s intense, but he’s also a lot more loving than his own dad was.

I’ll admit, this backstory is a little bit “Soap Opera” but I think it still fits him

#sluttbuttsstuff #la squadra #jjba #vento aureo #ghiacchio #melone #sfw #headcanons #fic #imagines

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alpaca-writes · 3 years

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Mystics, Chapter 20

When Arch becomes hired on at Mystics by the strange shopkeeper Lyrem Nomadus, everything seems to be going well- in fact, their life nearly becomes perfection. Soon enough, however, Arch realizes that perhaps not everything is as perfect as it seems….

Read Chapters 1-19 and more HERE

Taglist: @myst-in-the-mirror, @livingforthewhump

CW: swearing obvs, gore, body horror, implied mutilation, noncon touching (nonsexual), Arch centric chapter

Apologies in advance if there are any continuity errors or grammar issues I missed during edits. I’ve had quite the week and had less time than planned to sort this chapter out thoroughly. Xx.

--------------------------

CHAPTER TWENTY: OH SHIT OH FUCK

Paimon had moved them to a new area. It was quieter. Softer. Like their old bedroom, but more spacious.

The door to the hall remained locked until Arch was regularly invited for dinner. There was no other food or snack available beside the human hearts that Paimon somehow provided them, and on the odd occasion where they weren’t feeling particularly interested in eating the organ, Paimon simply commanded them to.

Their new room was quite large. The walls were still stone and the air was stiff and stale, but at least they had a large bed, and a full bathroom where they could finally shower the stink of the Depths of Despair from their body.

A Led Zeppelin t-shirt and a pair of high wasted denim pants laid neatly folded across the room on some shelves. The items, including the underwear looked as though it had been taken right out of their bedroom, only it was clean, and a lot less wrinkled than they would usually wear.

They stepped out and dressed themselves, thankful to be out of that horrible purple monstrosity that Lyrem seemed to like more than anyone else.

That world they had left seemed so far away now. What felt even farther were the memories of anything that had happened before Lyrem had hired them at Mystics. That felt like an age and a half ago.

They were escorted from their room that evening to the dining hall by Paimon himself. He was the only one Arch had ever seen there, despite the suffering cries from other areas of the realm. Not a single other person passed them by- even when Arch was confined to the small cell.

The dining table in the hall was massive; solid oak, stretching six feet wide and at least thirty feet long. Arch curiously counted it out at 25 paces, so there was only a brief estimate. And the two of them sat at the end, with Paimon at the head of the table and Arch just at their left. Their meals waited for them.

This time, the heart had a small triangle of watermelon next to it.

That was nice.

“Lyrem taught me to make sparks with my hands,” they said. “I tried earlier, but nothing is working. I thought you said this heart business would make me stronger.”

“You are stronger, but only when I allow it. I have control over everything you can do now. I don’t plan to give up that control anytime soon.” Paimon replied.

“Why? Are you afraid I’ll burn your house down?” Arch joked, but Paimon didn’t smile, and so theirs faltered. “Didn’t mean to offend.”

“I tend not to trust those that I take captive here.” He answered.

Arch shook their head. “I’m beginning to see this place as a work retreat, more than a hostage situation.”

“That’s very good. But I still don’t trust you.”

“That’s probably fair. I wouldn’t trust me either.”

There was a studious eye to Paimon for a moment before he began to eat alongside his guest.

“You’re a very strange individual,” he said, “most humans I’ve encountered would have cowered and cried for days- weeks before accepting their fate. They would have grown disgusted at themselves for the acts they’ve committed. I must say, you don’t seem particularly disturbed by your situation.”

Arch raised an eyebrow at him. Did Paimon want them to be disturbed?

“Well, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I left school counsellors and conversion therapy behind only to have to dine with Sigmund Freud in hell,” they remarked, eating a bite of the heart that was on their plate. “Lyrem gave me some speech once about the dignity in accepting one’s fate. Making the most out of a bad situation and what-not. I don’t really remember-

But that’s all it is. I’m making the most of it. You want me to be powerful- and I want me to be powerful. Can’t we just be content with what we’ve got?”

Paimon stared at them contemplating their words. As he nodded, he paused. Something in the air suddenly turned him sour.

His knife dropped to the table with a clink before his entire meal, everything, all vanished away. Turning his head, he growled. Arch leaned back, not sure what had gone wrong or what they had done to deserve such a reaction. Paimon pulled them up by the elbow, forcing them to drop their watermelon slice to the floor, and then dragged them around their chair, out into the hall.

“Wh-what’s going on?” Arch winced as Paimon’s grip pierced into their arm once again to match the claw marks that now studded their shoulder. “Did I do something wrong?”

They reached the doorway to their room, and Paimon swung it open in a hurry. They tossed Arch inside and then slammed the door behind them.

“I- I’m really sorry if I did something wro”-

Arch was crushed into the silence of their own room and Paimon stood outside, snarling. His black, shining antlers grew taller. Something was wrong. Something had happened on Earth.

Lyrem was dead. He could feel it.

He vanished from the hall without a moment more to lose, leaving Arch behind.

They had hardly started eating their heart.

Arch checked over their arm, wincing as they picked away at the bits of skin that he had torn into them. They rushed into their washroom and pulled out a damp cloth to tend to their wounds. They wrapped it around tightly, and pulled it taut. From outside, they heard a click and a creak.

Peering out the door, Arch expected to see Paimon to have returned from rushing off. But there was no one there to see- only the slightest gap in the doorway that would welcome Arch into the hall. The hall’s echoes quieted. The usual cries of pain were no longer there, as if they had left with the demon himself. Arch was well aware that they had only just had a conversation about the fact that they wouldn’t be trusted. Maybe they should prove it. Maybe they should stay here.

But there really wouldn’t be any harm in peeking around, would there? Just for a quick moment.

Arch stepped out into the empty hall.

“Paimon?” they called out. If he was here, then at least they did their due diligence and checked for him before wandering about.

Arch filtered out of the door and to the right, staying close to the wall as if that would help them hide from any onlookers. Multitudes of rooms dotted the halls, and as Arch took a risk peering into each one, they realized that they may be the only soul around. Everything was empty, so far.

They took a narrow set of stairs down. The halls were still lit sufficiently. The more Arch thought about continuing through the maze of halls and rooms, the more they wondered if it was a trick. A mean little trap to punish them for their insatiable curiosity.

At this point, however, it couldn’t be helped. They were pretty damn lost.

The lights along the walls flickered and Arch jumped at the shifting shadows along the wall. The light steadied once more, like the electricity was fighting to stay alive. They considered heading back to the stairs, but before they even turned around, the lights had gone out completely and left them in still darkness.

“What…” Arch searched for anything they could to bring the light back. Paimon had said they controlled their power, but they still tried to make even the smallest spark with their fingers- anything to keep them calm. They didn’t like this darkness. It was threatening.

Their light wouldn’t work. It didn’t work. Nothing worked.

“Oh, shit,” they hissed under their breath.

There was a guttural, unrecognizable sound off to the right. The voice of something… partially dead. The lights flickered just a few times more, off the wall. Right beside them, Arch could see it- a humanoid creature, crawling on all fours, rotting and peeling flesh falling off of it- it approached, and Arch was frozen, against the wall.

Oh, fuck.

Its nose had fallen off, leaving a couple of gaping holes for the skull to shine through. Arch swallowed and tried to keep quiet as it passed by but the sob that they had choked back was just enough for the thing to turn on them with keen horrifying interest. It opened their mouth, and reached out with skeletal hands, intent on groping them. The sound it made was drowned out by Arch’s own scream as they bolted further through the hall, just in time for the lights to flicker out again. They were now running blindly, feeling for the walls and unwilling to look back in fear of the thing that would be following them.

There was a corner. They felt the air reaching their fingers instead of the familiar bubbles of lava rock, and so they turned left. Two steps forward and then they tripped onto a staircase, smacking their nose against the rock. The blood poured out of their nose like a waterfall, but they were not going to bother to stop it now.

A sharp, clawed hand grasped their legs, and they scrambled up to the nearest landing, kicking them as hard and fast as they could, only to feel more of the same spindly fingers reaching through their hair and onto their shoulders from the opposite direction. Arch screamed and cried out of fear, more than any pain. The grip of these creatures grew stronger, and became more intent on touching every part of this living human as they could.

Arch’s legs grew tired first. There were too many hands on them. When they thought they had removed one pair, it felt like four more immediately latched onto them, each more unwilling to release them than the last.

One wrist was pulled up, over their head while the other was pulled to the opposite side. Soon, they’d be flipped back on their stomach with no hope of surviving what would come next- and Arch had no clue what that might be.

One sharp pull and they were forced to their side, losing strength, like it was seeping out of them only to be transferred to the groping, creeping creatures.

“N-no!” They cursed themselves for the stupid idea that took them down this way. With their end in sight, Arch struggled limply. The gasping and wheezing of these things being the last thing they would ever hear, and their hollow faces the last thing they ever saw-

Hold on.

They could see.

They could see… but there wasn’t much there- just some defining grotesque features of the faces that were groaning and creaking at them. But if was also clear that the things were careful to avoid the light that was peeking through the base of a doorway in the hall. With Arch’s remaining strength, they kicked out toward the door. Even if they could let just a little more of the light through, perhaps it would be enough to force those creatures to scatter.

Arch’s foot connected to the bottom of the door with a loud bang. Then again and again and again and again and-

Something in the door’s latch disconnected from the door jam. A bright yellow shower of light poured through and the creatures that held Arch down, were chased off into the darkest recesses of the cavern out of sight.

Finally free, Arch scrambled into the room on their knees the whole way, and shut the door. It closed with a hollow rattle. With eyes shut tight and panting breaths of relief, they took a short moment to examine themselves; a measly effort to take care of any damage the decrepit creatures had done. The bandage they had tied to their arm had been lost in the skirmish, their nose was likely broken and still bleeding. Their fingers lightly pressed either side of the bridge of their nose and they whined in pain.

“Empty… souls.”

Arch flipped around, spooked by the raspy voice behind them from the yellow light that shone so brightly. Their eyes squinted through the light but couldn’t hold their gaze for long. When they looked away and blinked, they could see the figure of a man, with his arms splayed out in the echo of their vision. The voice continued with a resounding exhaustion.

“With no essence of their own, they seek out the essences of others…” The voice breathed shallowly. “They do enjoy removing the light that souls contain…. An unfortunate… biproduct of my uncle’s Underworld...”

The light and form of the splayed figure was unmoving, unable to move. Arch was still pressed against the door, now holding a hand over their eyes to shield themselves from the rays of light.

“I… I don’t understand…” Arch started. They didn’t know what to say, how to even begin. “Who… are you?”

There were a few ragged breaths from the figure suspended from the chains, then a tear; a drop of liquid sunlight fell from the bottom of the man’s chin and stained the rocky floor below.

“A prisoner.” The voice exhaled.

“A prisoner?” Arch squinted. The longer they watched the man, the easier it was to see their full form. The light faded, or their eyes simply became used to the beams. Either way, the shackles that spread the man’s body taut in the air were visible and bore a striking resemblance to the ones they had seen before.

The man was nearly naked with only cloth to cover below his waist, and what was also noticeable and positively appalling was the torn hole in his chest, that was flayed open from his collar bone to his midsection. The light was strongest there.

Building their courage, and hardly recovered from their last harrowing experience, Arch approached the hanging man, in the effort and hope to ease his pain. They didn’t know what they could do that would be of any benefit, but his breathing was shaky, like he was nearing his end. Swallowing back any fear, Arch brought themselves up to face him. He was clearly on the verge of passing out every few moments.

“Did Paimon trap you here?” Arch asked, their lips and their breath suddenly felt quite dry in their throat. The man was too exhausted to respond, though Arch could have sworn he shook his head ever so slightly.

Arch reached out with a gentle hand, and the prisoner seethed a warning causing them to stop.

“W-what… are you… doing?”

Arch blinked. “I’m trying to help.”

Their hand met the prisoner’s cheek, cupping it lightly. An instant later, Arch’s eyes lit up with the yellow light and the power of the prisoner rushed through them, causing them to feel lighter than air and hotter than the sun.

The prisoner shifted his gaze, meeting Arch’s eyes so very briefly before it filled with an unmistakable hatred to something coming up from behind.

“I knew you couldn’t be trusted.”

Arch felt the tug on the back of their shirt collar and was thrown to the ground, their head met the ground with a painful pounding and Paimon squared himself up to the prisoner, jabbing a finger into his face. The prisoner didn’t react, aside from a low scoffing turn of the head.

“This was the deal you made, brother,” Paimon announced, “Aren’t you proud of your precious little humans? Hm? Failing you time and time again, aren’t they?”

Brother? Did Arch hear that properly?

Paimon threw his head back in raucous laughter, and then stopped, and turned on Arch, who was sitting up from the floor, inching slowly toward the door, backwards, on their butt.

“Oh, my dear Arch,” he started, watching his newest arrival shake their little head in fear and he grinned. A bloody scar ran down the side of his face. “What have you done now?”

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gavinrutherforda · 3 years

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manireads · 4 years

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freelancer, changkyun x reader 1-4

word count : 9.1 k

changkyun x reader

hacker au/mafia au (eventually)

an: it’s been a minute but i rewrote the parts of freelancer i didn’t like and added on the fourth part. you can think of this a prologue for the new direction i want to take this series. i’ll be posting more about that later. but for now i hope you enjoy.

also i would love some feedback as well.

~*~

If I take a double shift tomorrow and then we wish on a star, all our dreams come true, and he actually gets a paid project, we might be able to pay our bills without having to sell my left kidney.’ She watched the ramen in the pot cook. Her mind wandered off to other things and soon she began to absentmindedly stir the noodles. Y/N was startled out of her thoughts, as she heard the sound of the front door to her studio apartment slam shut followed by the voice of her boyfriend, Changkyun.

“Hey,” Before she knew it he was behind her, his chin resting on her shoulder, his arms wrapped around her waist. “How was your day? Anything happen at the restaurant?” She felt safe with him around and being close with him after a stressful day made her worries fade away, temporarily.

“It was alright. I did trip and dropped a bunch of plates in the kitchen so that was fun” She said slightly joking, but the slight throbbing in her back reminded her that as funny as it was, it hurt more than she laughed.

“I keep telling out that you have to get rid of those old sneakers. The bottoms are so flat, there’s no grip on them.” He chuckled, his laugh deep and hearty. He nuzzled his face into the side of her neck, his breath tickling her skin.

“I can’t do that. Converse looks better the more you wear them and the more worn they get.”

“You’ve had those since high school.”

“Exactly, you can’t get all those years of dirt and grime back.”

“That’s gross.” He said moving away from her, making his way to the small sofa on the other side of the room. He plopped down on it, sighing loudly. He was relieved to finally be home. The days that he had to spend that outside the comfort of his own couch, were undeniably the worst. But you have to make money to live, right?

“I would get a new pair but we just can’t afford to spend money on new sneakers like that right now.” Y/N finished the ramen bringing the pot over to the couch, along with two cans of sodas that she had picked up earlier. She tossed one to to him before placing the pot on the coffee table in front of the sofa and taking a seat next to him.

“Speaking of money,” Changkyun groaned, knowing exactly where the conversation was going. He really didn’t want to get into an argument today. Quickly, he leaned forward stuffing his face with ramen trying to avoid conversation all together. “Oh, come on Changkyun,” he looked at her mouth full and cheeks puffed out, looking at her with feigned innocence. “We have to talk about this.”

He chewed his food and swallowed before looking at her, “Yeah but not tonight, alright?” He said before giving her a kiss right on her closed lips, a smile spread across his face as she agreed in a less enthusiastic way. The both leaned back into the couch, slowly sinking into it. His thoughts became consumed with the show that was playing on the laptop that sat on a stool right across the coffee table. Y/N unfortunately couldn’t get into the t.v. show. She was too busy thinking about everything Changkyun wasn’t.

When Y/N looks back on their relationship, she never thought that this is where they would be. She honestly thought that they would have broken up at the end of high school. She didn’t think that they were going to last as long as they did when he asked her out at the beginning of their first year. But time after time, Changkyun stuck with her and in turn she became attached as well. But when third year started to come to a close, she knew that it was coming to an end. Changkyun had started to talk about moving away from their home town and all the plans that he had had for his future. The more he talked about it, the more she realized that she wasn’t included and at first it didn’t bother her, but as it started to sink in she realized that she really loved him and was too attached to say goodbye so soon.

She would remain silent about it in front of him. But when he wasn’t around, she started to look up all the places mentioned. She even started to plan out what compromises for the two of them. One where she could go to her dream school and not be too far away from him was impossible, so that was out. A long distance relationship was out of the question, she barely could text him regularly and they were with each other everyday. The only option was to move out of their hometown together. But she didn’t want to intrude on his plans, so she had to talk to him. It was probably the most awkward conversation they have ever had but it was the most important.

At the end of it all, Y/N found that he always wanted her to be by his side but he was afraid she wouldn’t want to because she seemed destined to do bigger and better. Y/N had scholarships to some of the best colleges in the country lined up and waiting for her. Her passion being the arts, she could have studied anywhere she wanted and had a foot up in that difficult industry. Your future was waiting for you and he knew that he couldn’t keep up. So he never mentioned how he wanted to be with you after graduation. He was afraid that he wouldn’t be enough for you, and sometimes he still feels this way when he can’t give you everything you need and want. So in true Changkyun fashion, instead of talking about it he’d rather ignore the feelings in his heart and the thoughts racing in his mind. He acted like everything was okay, for her.

After hours of binge watching some show, the both of them were too brain fired to take in another second. Y/N went to clean up their dinner and Changkyun closed down the laptop and packed it away with his other equipment. Changkyun seemed smart enough that Y/n thought now would be a good idea to talk to him now. She’d known him for years now and knows that to get him to listen would be during his sleepiest moments. She couldn’t outsmart him when he was wide awake but when he was on his way to la la land was her time to strike. He’d talk to her and promise her things during their pillow talk and in the morning she’d hold him to it. She wished that she wouldn’t have to use such secret tactics to get to him but it was really her only way.

“Babe,” She started noticing his sleepy walk as he carried himself to the bathroom and she followed. “The month is almost up and I don’t think we are going to make it.”

“We’ll make it, love. Don’t worry.” His muffled voice came out as he started to brush his teeth. You followed him and started as well not dropping the subject. Through muffled voices she let him know that her paycheck wouldn’t be enough. He finished first and washed his face before heading to the bed.

“Okay, I get it. And I am trying to do a little more. You know I’m just a free-”

“A freelancer, yes I know. But the stipend that that company gives you is not enough. They rarely give you any jobs since the first couple of months there. If you're a freelancer, you should be able to work for anyone who pays.” You said coming out of the bathroom to sit across from him on the couch. Sinking into the cushions you watched him as he sat with his back against the wall and his phone in his hand as he typed away.

“Yeah, but I signed an exclusive contract with them for the rest of the year and if I were to pull out then there goes my only source of reliable income. I want to leave honestly but It would be even worse for us because I’d have nothing to give.” He sighed, closing his phone and tossing it to the side. He looked at Y/N with tired eyes. She knew how hard he worked and she hated having this conversation more than anyone else. She never wanted to pressure him but she had to stay headstrong.

“Okay, what about that other thing you were talking about maybe a couple a months ago. Your friend DK was working on it right? What ever happened to that?”

“It didn't really pan out. They didn’t need me and it was just a start up so I don’t think I would have been getting paid much either way.” You both stared at each other. He could see the frustration in her eyes. “But,” He offered carefully. “I do have something coming my way. It's just going to take time before I can actually get paid for it.”

“Changkyun, how many times are you going to tell her that before you actually do get paid.”

“Hopefully not again. I’m already breaking my company contract so I’m risking a lot already. I know it’s been tough but this time it will be good. They are really serious about the work they want done and I can do it. We just have to wait until I actually finish the job.”

“So what do we do now, Changkyun? We need money and we need it fast. I doubt that Ms. Choi is going to let us pay the rent in a couple weeks late again. She’ll kick us out, then what will we do, huh?” She could feel her voice cracking and her eyes watering. She hated this feeling more than anything. It was like she was stuck between wanting to protect him and his fantasy that somehow they’d be okay and the harsh reality that they were screwed. He looked at her knowing that she could burst out in tears at any moment. He scooted up to the edge of the bed holding his arms out.

“Come here. You know I hate to see you cry.” She got up and walked over to him becoming entrapped as he wrapped his arms around her hips. Pressing his head into her stomach, they stayed like this for a long moment. “I’m going to make this right to you, I promise.” At his promise he looked up at her. “Someday, you’ll never have to cry over money again. We’ll be so rich that our kids will have those cute little motor cars and they’ll drive them around our huge backyard of our mansion. When they get speed, we’ll have a hired policeman give them little tickets that they could pay.” He smiled as he saw the edges of the mouth curl up into a little smile. “That’s how rich we’ll be. I swear. I just need a little more time”

“Our kids?” Y/N asked with a slight chuckle. She wanted to continue to argue but she couldn't find the strength when he looked at her like that.

“Yeah, I mean if you want kids. I would love to have a little baby that looks like you but I could teach to code like me .”

“Hey, I can code some things! My old tumblr, I did that all by myself.” She giggled hitting him on his shoulder.

“Okay but when I try and show you other things, you can never get it.” The two of them moved further into the bed, lying down as the exhaustion of the day caught up with them.

“Yeah, past tumblr it gets too hard, so I give up.” She smiled and moved his hair out of his face. “I love you, you know that, right?”

“You wouldn’t be dealing with me if you didn’t.”

“You got that right.” They both chuckled.

“I love you too.” He replied as he both of them got comfy under the covers and swiftly fell asleep. It was late into the night when the bed started to vibrate. It woke Y/N slightly but as she opened her eyes slightly, she noticed it was still dark outside. Changkyun on the other hand was wide awake from the vibrations. Quickly, he found his phone that was responsible for waking them. Y/N couldn’t see who had called him, opting to try and fall back asleep. Changkyun, however, picked up as soon as he realized who called. In a hushed voice he talked to the other person, from time to time he would look over to Y/N, hoping he hadn’t been too loud and woke her up. Changkyun and the person on the phone agreed on something and He asked for the address to be texted to him and with that, the phone call ended. Changkyun laid there for only a second debating whether or not to let her know that he was heading out. He decided against it and tried to get out of the bed as silently as possible. He quietly moved around the room packing up his laptop and some other equipment into his backpack. Shuffling into his sneakers, he looked at you sound asleep. He knew he had to do this for her. For them. He exited the apartment making his way out into the night, not knowing that when closed to the door Y/N rolled over in the bed to stare at the door.

“Where in the hell can he be going at 3am in the morning?”

~*~

The rest of the week had gone on like this. Changkyun would wake up at mysterious times to a phone, have a brief conversation and then slip into the night with his work bag slung across his back. Y/N tried not to let it bother her too much but how could she ignore it when they shared a bed together and Changkyun wasn’t the smoothest getting out of it. For the first couple of days, she’d wake up to the feeling of the phone vibrating, keeping her eyes closed to pretend she was sleeping. She’d try and listen in on the hushed conversations had but nothing really came from it. She did get caught once, it was Thursday morning and she was moving a bit too much for Changkyun to not notice.

“Hold on,” he said into the phone. She immediately became rigid in the bed, hoping that I could play it off as if I had just woke up. He leaned forward hovering over her. His shallow breath fanning over her face as he looked for any signs to tell that she was awake. And although her body was still, her closed eyes still moved around. A slight worry entered his brain, had she heard him? “Baby, did I wake you up?”

Her first instinct was to smile and break out in a giggle, like a child who was caught red handed. With his face so close to hers, it was nearly impossible not to. But with all of her might, she calmed the giggling child. Y/N opened her eyes slowly, her face scrunched up, pretending that she had just woke up and had to wait for her eyes to adjust. She even stretched her body in hopes that Changkyun would believe it.

“Hmm?” She asked, as if she hadn’t heard him shuffling about. She looks at him, the moonlight from our window lighting up his face. His eyes glistened as he looked down on her with a soft but concerned gaze. Swiftly, her eyes flicker away from his face and she can see his phone in his hand that was resting on his thigh, his other arm I was under the pillow my head was laying on. He was on another call. She squinted her eyes trying to see the caller ID but wasn’t quick enough because he realized what caught her attention, and moved the phone away from view. She looked back up at him with a small pout on her face.

“Sorry about that,” He chuckled in a hushed tone. “I was playing a game.” He kissed her underneath her right eye. The sweet gesture caused a bubbling feeling in her chest. She couldn’t stop the small grin on her face. “I’m sorry I woke you up.” He leaned down and kissed her again, this time on her forehead. She breathes in his scent, their soap and hints of his favorite cologne that he got as a present for graduation and uses sparingly. Wood sage and sea salt.

“Why are you up so late?” She asked, as she attempted to muster up as much of a groggy voice that she could.

“I woke up but couldn’t fall asleep, so I was just on my phone.” He answered, placing his lips by her ear before whispering, “Go back to bed, I’ll be right here.” She nodded, turning back over to face the windows. With no curtain, the light from outside entered the tiny apartment, casting a blue hue over everything. He slipped his arm from underneath her and waited until she closed her eyes again. He let go of the breath that he was holding, before scooting down and off the bed. Phone still in hand, he shuffled to the bathroom and closed the door behind him. She waited a moment before sitting up in bed, looking at the bathroom door.

Unfortunately, the walls weren’t thin enough that she could eavesdrop on him from the bed, only being able to catch murmurs of the conversation from where she was laying. She sat there staring at the door, the light shining from underneath the bottom, the door knob almost shining. It teased her, ‘open the door, confront him.’ Scenarios of what would happen when he exited ran through her head. Would she get up and yell at him? Let him know everything that’s been running through her mind. Demand to know who he’s been talking to every night, where he’s been going, and why? Hell, if she moved fast enough she could barge in there right now and ask the person on the phone herself.

She had almost made up her mind to do it but heard the sound of the sink running and laid back down back in the bed, eyes closed shut instantly. The squeaky door opened again and Changkyun cautiously stepped out. Believing that she had fallen asleep again, let out a shaky sigh. He walked around the full sized bed, to the dresser that was on her side of the bed. He pulls his usual work clothes, a white button up, one of the three ties that he owns, and a pair of black slacks. He checks if they are clean before putting them into his work bag, along with his laptop and a pair of dress shoes. He changed into his regular clothing, a flannel and jeans. He looked down to his side at her, the light on her looked so soft and calming. As much as he wanted to lay back down he couldn’t. He had somewhere to be. He leaned over her again and kissed her on her lips ever so softly, careful not to wake her up. “I love you” he whispered before standing up again. Changkyun grabs his keys, wallet, and phone, putting them into his pockets. He spares her one last look making sure she’s fast asleep and knows nothing of this late night departure. He shoves his feet in his sneakers and walks out of the apartment, silently closing and locking the door behind him. His pace is fast as he makes his way out of the apartment complex. Once out of the courtyard and on the street, he shifts the bag on his back and pulls up the hood on his hoodie, effectively blending himself in with the shadows.

Back in the studio apartment, she lays there eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling. Tear brimming and threatening to escape her as moments pass by.

If you love me so fucking much then why are you lying to me ?

~*~

It’s a chilly spring day, the people outside are making their way around Seoul, dressing in their light coats and bright colors to match the time of year. Trees are starting to sprout flowers in soft white and pink colors. The brightens everything making everything seem a little washed out of color, life a filter has been placed over the world. The cold breeze swept through the city streets shaking blossoms off tree limbs and sent them sailing through the air. The day was nearly picture perfect.

With the weather being so nice, a change from the onslaught of rain recently, Y/N felt like it was the perfect time for her to get out of the house and meet with her friends again. She hadn’t had the time to do so in a while because of all the extra work that she had to do. She ended up paying a majority of her rent on time. Her landlord was annoyed but gracious enough to let her pay off the rest when she had the rest of the money, which she did a week later. With a bit of extra cash in her pocket that she didn’t usually have, Y/N decided to treat herself. She’d worked her ass off the past three weeks and deserved it. Hoping to take her mind off the whole Changkyun ordeal, She contacted her closest friends two days prior. They planned to spend the whole day out, shopping and eating, so that they wouldn’t get caught up watching dramas inside like they usually do. It was 12:30 pm and she sat in the little cafe that Soobin worked in, sipping on a latte and eating one of the small pre-wrapped sandwiches that could pick up near the register. The place was a bohemian inspired with mismatched furniture of all different patterns, styles, and color. Plants hung all over the interior of the cafe, some cute little succulents and other long sprawling plants with huge leaves. Somehow, it still flowed together nicely and gave off a very homey feel. One that Y/N was quite familiar with after visiting the cafe so regularly. Soobin was surprised to see Soojung and Y/N when the two had walked through the door earlier. The girls had promised to meet up after her shift but Sojung had complained in the group chat about how hungry she was and they decided that they could probably get some free food and drinks out of Soobin.

Halfway through brunch, that was turning into more of a lunch at this point, Sojung asked Y/N about Changkyun. She tried to keep it light and casually but was tired of keeping her thoughts in my head. She needed someone to talk to about the secret calls and disappearing. Y/N couldn't help but tell her everything. Every little detail came spilling out of her mouth. After every question she asked her closest friend, she hoped they’d tell me that she was overreacting. But a little voice in her head answered instead. ‘No, it’s not normal. Yes, there is something wrong.’ She couldn’t stop the feeling of being so helpless in those moments. After letting everything out, she tried to pass it off as if it wasn't bothering her as much as it did inside. However, Sojung had no intentions of letting it go. She knew there was something deeper going on.

~*~

"All that and you haven't said a word to him?" Sojung asked me. I shook my head while I took a sip of my coffee.

"Nope. I just don't know where he is going and I don't want to be that type of girlfriend, you know?" I placed the cup down on the table.

She looked at me with wide eyes, completely surprised. I groaned out running my hands through my hair before letting my head hit the table. It was almost like I could hear what she was going to say to me, mainly because I've already been telling myself the same thing. 'You need to say something! You can't just let him walk all over you. If something is bothering you in your relationship, then you should speak up.' It wasn't long before Soobin came over to join us with a small tray with some pastries on it and more coffee.

"Alright," She placed the tray on the table and took a seat with us. "I'm finally off. I hate morning shifts with a passion but I make the most in tips. Also, if you too keep on coming here for free food, My boss is going to figure you two out. Anyway, what did I miss?" I was going to tell her nothing but,

"Changkyun is cheating on Y/N!"

"He’s what?!"

"He is not!" I retort back, lifting my head looking at the two of them. Soobin looked at me with a similar surprised look that Sojung had earlier. "He's not," I say, looking at Sojung challenging her. She rolls her eyes and goes to take another sip from her own mug. "He would never. You know he's not that type of guy. He's just acting weird." I mumble. I didn't want to believe that Changkyun could possibly cheat on me. But no matter how much I tried, my mind always ended up on that conclusion.

"Sure." Sojung placed her cup on the table. She pursed her lips. "Soobin," She turned to her, her body language showing that she didn’t want my input. "If Hyunjung was getting weird phone calls in the middle of the night and then after getting these calls, she jumped out of bed at two am in the morning and just left the house, not waking you up to even tell you where she was going, then doesn't come home until after work, what would you think she was up to, huh?" The whole time while Sojung talked I wanted to interrupt but she wasn't embellishing the truth. That was everything that I was going through for the past three weeks.

"Well, I'd ..." She stopped talking, taking the moment to look over at me with sad eyes. " Oh honey," She started.

"Not you too!" I leaned back in my chair, my eyes meeting the ceiling.

"Y/N, it sounds like he's doing something he doesn't want you to know about. What else could it be?" She sounded so concerned for me but I didn't want to be pitied. I looked back at the two of them, fixing my posture in the chair.

"I don't know what it could be but I can't just come out and accuse him of something like that. I mean, what if he isn't. You wouldn't be happy if Hyunjung just came out and called you a cheater, right?"

"Yeah, but Soobin isn't giving Hyunjung a reason to worry, unlike Changkyun." Sojung budded in making another point that I couldn't refute. All I could do was look at her hoping she would stop being so right about this.

"Have you even asked him about all of this?" From my expression, Soobin could tell what the answer was. Her mouth dropped open. I could understand the shock from my friends. It really wasn't like me to not say something when I was bothered. But this had to do with Changkyun. I'm always so afraid to lose him since we graduated. I always felt like we weren't supposed to make it past that last year of high school. All of it was borrowed time and eventually the two of us were going to be forced to separate ways. It feels inevitable but I just don't want it to be now. Not while I'm still so in love with him.

"Okay, I'll ask him about it tonight when he comes home. Until then can we please drop it, I came out with my friends to get away from all of that."

"You're really going to talk to him?" Soobin asked. Sojung was watching me intently. I nodded my head. I knew I really wasn't but I just wanted to let it go and enjoy the rest of my day. Soobin seemed to accept my answer but Sojung was still silent. We stared at each other until she finally broke.

"Fine. We'll drop it but I want an update after you do."

"Yes, mom." It was my turn to roll my eyes and Soobin giggled. From there, we ate the rest of our food and decided to roam around Hongdae seeing if there was a place to do some shopping. We eventually came across this quaint boutique. We spent the afternoon trying outfits for the next time we would go out together. It'd be a nightclub, so we wanted to look as good as possible. I ended up with a couple nice things, a few sweaters, t-shirts, a pair of jeans, and a nice party dress. They were out of season but they were all on the clearance rack so I didn't break the bank. After all the shopping, we decided to grab something else to eat before parting ways. Sojung was the first to go, leaving Soobin and I walking towards the train station.

"Don't punk out okay. Just ask him where he's been going and let him know that it bothers you a lot." I nodded leaning in and gave her a hug.

"Tell Hyunjung I said hi, okay? Love you." I said, releasing her from the hug.

"I love you too. Don't forget" She said pointing at me as she made her way to the steps of the station.

“I won't, now go before you miss your train." I waved before she disappeared down the steps. It wasn't much of a walk home from there. But I dreaded getting home more than anything. I stopped at the convenience store to waste time. Looking through the aisles picking up some chips, candy and even a bottle of soju.

An aisle over, there was a man with wild brown picking out some bags of chips. I can't help but smile at his hairstyle thinking that he might have jumped out of bed and came to the convenience store. Deciding to mind my business, I pick up two bottles of soju and make my way to the counter.

"Is this all?" the cashier asks. I nodded as he started to bag up my items. While he does that, I notice somebody beside me. It's the same man with wild hair. I take in his face quickly, the small cross tattoo by his eye and his overall outfit allude to the hair being more of a style choice than a circumstance. "That'll be ₩20,000." Immediately, I start rummaging through my bag. Each moment becomes more frantic because I can't find my wallet.

"I got it. I'll pay for both of them together.” He says, pushing his items closer to the cashier.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t put a dent in my pocket.” Pulling out a card from his wallet and holding it up for the cashier to see. He turned to me with a toothy grin and I smiled back politely. After paying for both his and my stuff, he handed me my bag.

"Thank you, that was really kind of you."

"No problem." He said simply and we both walked out of the store. "Welp, good night." He said making a small salute with his hands before walking the way I just came from.

"Good night." I say back to him and turn to walk in the opposite way. I let out a sigh when I deem we are far enough from each other. I didn’t want to have to explain to him why just because he brought my snacks, I didn’t owe him my phone number or my time, especially when I didn’t ask him to pay for it in the first place. But the fact that had just left me to go on my merry way made me smile. Guess he just wanted to be nice to someone.

The whole interaction almost made me forget what I had promised my friends earlier. It wasn't until I was a block away from my apartment complex that I could see the light on from the 5th apartment on the third floor. Changkyun was already home.

~*~

Walking up the stairs to our apartment, I can feel my body getting lighter and lighter with each step, to the point I started to feel light headed. I wanted to run back down the stairs and hide away. Anything to prolong the confrontation I knew would come. But I didn’t have that option. My friends would just send me right back home. I pressed on after catching my breath at the top of the staircase. The words that I had planned for Changkyun left my mind as I neared the door. Quickly I reshuffle the bags in my hand and dig through my purse to find my keys, but failed to get them out. Letting out a sigh, I lift my hand to knock on the door. I really wanted to at least put my stuff down before we started talking.

From the door, I could hear Changkyun shuffle around in the apartment and his feet dragging to the door. “Who is it?” I could hear him ask, his face probably pressed against the door to look out the peephole.

“It’s me, Changk-”

“Sorry, I didn’t order any pizza.”

“Changkyun, it’s not pizza.”

“Oh? No pizza? Then you must be one of those toaster salesman, huh?”

“Oh my god, Chang. You are so annoying.” I drone out with a dramatic eye roll. I have to hold myself from smiling though. Changkyun likes to play this game whenever I lock myself out of our home.

“Wait! You’re one of those cult recruiters, aren’t you?”

“Open the damn door! My arms hurt and the soju is getting warm.” I say giving the door a little kick. Swiftly the door opens up and Changkyun is standing there in his pj’s, wire glasses, and tousled hair.

“Soju? You’re definitely trying to get me to join a cult.” We both share a small laugh as I make my way through the door. “Woah, big baller, what did you get? And did you get me something?” He asked me to take my shopping bags from me and take a quick look through them.

“Just some jeans and tops. I didn’t really get you anything but if you want, there is a cute little dress you can have.” I said with a joking smile plopping down on the bed, shedding my jacket from my shoulders. He came over and pulled the jacket away from me and planted a kiss on my forehead.

“As hot as I would look in a dress, teal isn’t my color.” He walked away with my jacket in hand and turned to hang it up. Watching him, I laid out on our bed. He shoots me a goofy smile as he busies himself around the kitchen. “Ooo, peach flavored? Nice.” He says as he stashes the bottles of soju in the fridge. “It’ll be a good nightcap after we eat dinner. Have you eaten already?” He asks moving towards the small kitchenette. I grunt a ‘no’ to him and he hums and nods. “Good because I cooked dinner for us.”

“You cooked?” I asked in a mocking tone, sitting up slightly.

“Oh shut up, I am not that bad at cooking.”

“You forgot to put water in your ramen.” I deadpan.

“That was once!”

“Twice.”

“Okay, but did you die?” I don’t respond to him, too amused by his persistence and he takes it as a win, “Exactly.”

The rest of the evening went on quite simply. Changkyun served up a pretty decent dinner. It wasn’t ramen so I was generally impressed, however it wasn’t completely cooked by him. Later in the night while cleaning, I noticed a very convenient rotisserie chicken container in the trash. We finally wound down after talking about our days and him enthusiastically telling me a story about a man and his parrot that he saw on the train in the morning.

“And then he would stop the baby talking with the parrot and he wasn’t quiet either. I heard him all the way across the train car.”

“Oh god, that’s weird.”

“Yeah, I’m scarred for life.” With that he got up from his seat next to me, taking out a bottle of the alcohol to pour both of us a glass. The room went silent for a moment as Changkyun tried to get the top off, the only thing that came to mind was the conversation with my friends earlier today. It was time to confront him even though it was the last thing I wanted to do. It was now or never.

“Hey, Chang?”

“Mm?” He hummed, still focused on the bottle.

“I need to talk to you about something.”

“So, uh,” He turned to me, watching as I tried to gather my thoughts. “How’s work going?” He turned back to the counter finishing his task.

“Uh, it's going good.”

“That's good.”

“Yeah.”

“I was wondering if things were okay, because I've noticed you leave pretty early now.”

“Oh, I don't wake you up do I?”

“Uh, no. Not really. It's just that you aren't here when I wake any more.”

“Right. I've been meaning to talk to you about that.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, so,” He pauses, then comes to sit next to me. “I've kinda got the opportunity to work on this new project thing.”

“Really?” My eyes light up with excitement, this wasn’t what I was expecting to hear tonight.

“Yup and pays really well. I know we kinda struggle with all that but I think this could change things for us.” I nod, almost smiling a bit. The thought of things getting better financially for us is something I've been working towards for so long. For a while it felt like I was working alone with Changkyun so focused on his computers that he would spend his last dollar on updating his pc all the time. But now our future was a concern for him too and I was happy about it. That’s where the conversation ended, as the two of us drank and joked around until we both fell asleep.

Sorry Sojung.

~*~

The next morning was the same as it had been the weeks before. Y/N woke up to his side of the bed empty. She’d go through her own morning routine, make her way to work and back home, just to wait around for Changkyun to come home and the two of them to fall asleep. Then the cycle would repeat over again. But things felt different from before. There was no more wondering, no more anxiety, right? She knew where he was. Or did she? Even though Changkyun had given her an answer,it didn’t sit right with her. Thinking about it too much almost made her stomach turn, so she tried not to. If this new found ignorance was supposed to be bliss, then why wasn’t she feeling that. Why was this question still gnawing at her. Taking up so much space in her thoughts that it was hard to be left alone with them.

Somehow, She got through the next three weeks without saying a word to him about it. All she did to quell the turmoil was to listen in to his early morning phone calls if she could. Unfortunately, it didn’t help her. It was practically driving her insane to hear him whisper so secretly. They never had kept anything from each other. Living in such a small apartment makes it nearly impossible.

But she swore she’d let it go. And she almost did, but one phone call she had overheard sent her over the edge.

“No, I’m at home.” Changkyun was hushed about it and turned over to face the wall. “It’s fucking- “ he pulled the phone away from his face to check the time squinting before putting the phone back to his face again. “1 am. The hell are you calling me so early?” Changkyun stretched his neck as he listened to the person on the other side of the phone, a smile gracing his lips. He couldn’t help the low chuckle that escaped him.

“Aww, You’re that needy for me?” He teased the person on the other side.

A chilling sense swims through her body. This was it. This was what she needed to finally stop that internal gnawing feeling. But unfortunately, it was replaced with another one. The feeling of absolute dread. This was what she wanted, the undeniable proof that he was seeing someone else this whole time. Y/N felt as if she could burst into tears right there but she didn’t. The emotion mixing with the dread wasn’t the sadness she hoped for but was anger coursing within her veins. She just wanted to hear the truth come out of his mouth. As angry as she was, she wanted to see if he’d lie in her face or would he own up to his actions. She listened until he was done on the phone. He had made arrangements to meet a couple blocks away in 15 minutes. Changkyun moved out of bed slowly. She could feel how careful he was, trying not to bother her. Little did he know, She thought.

Swiftly, he gathered all the things he needed, his jacket, laptop, clothes for his actual job, and mask to cover his face, like he would for every night prior. He was slowly unlocking the front door, trying not to make any loud noises, when Y/N sat up abruptly. From the surprised look on his face she had caught him red handed and she wouldn’t let him get away.

“Where are you going?” She asked. Her voice was clear and assertive. She tried to not to give any clues that she had listened in on his phone call.

“Y/N? Why are you up?” He dodged her question, his voice coming out a little shaky.

“I heard you get up so I woke up. But where are you going?” She asked again.

“To work. I told you this already.” He made a move to open up the door but heard her shift in the bed more, so he stopped. He hoped she’d accept his answer and just lay back down but it didn’t seem like things were going to be going his way.

“Yeah, but it’s one am. You said you leave here around seven.”

“I know but uh,” He looked back down at his phone in his hand, he was running out of time. “Can we talk about it tonight babe? I really have to go.”

“No, we can’t talk later.” She pushed the covers off of herself and stood up to confront him face to face. She maneuvered her way in between him and the exit to stop him. “Why did you lie to me? Just tell me where you are going.”

“I can’t. I really can’t. We’ll talk later tonight. I promise.” He tried to place a kiss on her forehead but before it could land, she pushed him back.

“I’m not going to be here tonight or ever again if you don’t answer me.”

He seems scared and she’s shocked at her own tenacity. He stood there waiting for her to say something to him.

“Who is she?”

“What?

“You heard me, who is the other person that you’ve been talking to all the time. You sneak out of our home to go see in the middle of the night. Who?” She was getting more and more upset by the way he acted as if she couldn’t see what was happening. The churning in her stomach had produced a heat that was inescapable as it rose in her chest and to her neck.

“You think I’m cheating on you?” Changkyun took a step back and looked at Y/N bewildered. Never in his life did he think that she could accuse him of such a thing. He turns away from her in shock, facing the other side of the room.

“Obviously, you’ve been acting suspicious for a little over a month now. What am I supposed to think?” She crosses her arms. She made her point and now the ball was in his court.

But when Changkyun turns around , it’s Y/N turn to be taken back as he looks at her in a way she’s never seen before. Changkyun looked at her with so much anger that it sent a shiver through her. His jaw was taught as if he was holding back the words he really wanted to say but chose not to. Instead, he shifts his bag over his shoulder and walks up to her, and directly into her face says, “I’m not having this conversation with you. Go to bed.” Before shoving past her and leaving.

She turned to see him leave, grimacing as the door slammed. She wants to chase after him but her feet won’t move.

And now, she was alone in the apartment. She stood there in shock as everything started to process in her mind. The feeling that she was expecting finally came flooding in and teas poured from her eyes. She crawls back on to the bed and sits in the corner with her back against the wall. She grabs a pillow and starts to sob into it. Y/N never thought that their relationship would become so riddled with secrets and lies. She had never wanted to not be able to trust him but she knew deep within her that the stories he told weren’t adding up. She thought she’d be stronger in the moment of confrontation. That she had to be true to herself and follow her gut feelings but she didn’t think that path would have her end up here. Crying and Alone. For hours, she let all her pain and heartbreak into the pillow, before falling asleep in that upright position.

~*~

A buzzing noise and feeling wakes Y/N up. She is still tucked into the corner of the bed but her body has spread out. Even though her mind is groggy and her eyes barely open, she recognizes the buzzing as her cell phone and immediately starts to look for it. She rubs the sleep from her eyes as she finds it folded in between the covers beside her. Quietly, in her heart she hopes it’s Changkyun calling her, hoping that he’d apologize and promise to talk later. But she is disappointed to find that it’s a coworker from her job. That’s when she notices it is half past ten in the morning. She is late for work but she doesn’t make a move to answer the call letting it ring out. She checks her notifications to see that she has five missed calls and three text messages. None of which are from her boyfriend.

She tosses her phone to the side then leaves the bed to wash her face in the bathroom. She flips the switch and as the light flickers on she can see her reflection in the mirror. She can see the prominent tear stains as they go down her cheeks. They reminded her of what happened earlier that morning and she is tempted to start crying again but contains herself. Quickly, she washes and dries her face before returning to the main room. It is rather quiet outside as most people have done all their commuting hours ago, only the sound of a car driving by fills the street every so often.

Y/N shuffles her way to the kitchenette and fills up an electric kettle with water. Some coffee will wake me up, she thinks as she presses the switch to start the machine. She finds her mug in the dish drain and rinses it out before searching for the instant coffee. She finds a packet, tears it open and pours it into the mug haphazardly along with some sugar. She is about to pour the hot water when she gets distracted by the sound of her phone buzzing again. She goes over to the bed and picks up the phone noticing that this time it isn’t her coworker calling but her manager. She answers the phone, ready to get a long lecture.

She was lucky, her manager was more concerned than actually angry seeing as Y/n wasn’t usually a late person and if for some reason she was she would call ahead of time. Y/n lied and told her that she had a really bad stomach ache and the medicine she had taken the night before kept her too drowsy to hear her alarm clock. Her manager is an understanding man and told her to stay home and wished her a speedy recovery before ending the phone call. Y/n felt a little bad for lying but she didn’t feel like plastering on a smile to wait tables today. Her feelings were being worn on her sleeves and she didn’t have the energy to try and hide them. Instead, she spent the day laying bed, wrapped in blankets trying to distract her mind. She wanted to call Changkyun but she talked herself out of it everytime. Opting to scroll through twitter or watch dramas on youtube. It wasn’t long until she fell asleep again, her mind still as clouded as it was when she woke up.

~*~

It’s nearly six pm when Y/n wakes up with a roaring stomach. The only thing she had had today was a cup of coffee and she slept through lunch. She stretches and gets off the bed to search for something to eat in the apartment. Unfortunately, she turns up empty handed with no left overs and nothing satisfying enough to make. If she had gone to work, she probably could have sweet talked one of the chefs to make her something to eat, as they did often for the staff, if they had extra ingredients laying around. Her stomach grumbles again, she wishes she had gone in. She decides to order food instead, pulling from the cupboard drawer a pamphlet for a chinese food restaurant that she orders from often. She closes the drawer with her hip and scans the menu before deciding what she wants. She wonders, What would Changkyun want?

She becomes stiff as she thinks about him. She hadn’t talked to him all day and in a little less that an hour, he should be coming home from work. She sits at the edge of the bed and takes up her phone. First, she had the intention to call him. But settled on texting him. She wasn’t ready to hear his voice right now. She’d deal with that when he walked through the door.

‘hey, what do you want from Mashi? i'm ordering for dinner.’ It took her a long time to send the text but once she did, she immediately closed her phone and placed it face down on the bed. 10 minutes passed and she spent it cleaning up her mug from this morning and looking over the menu again. But before she could nervously look it over for the third time, she heard her notification go off.

He texted her back.

She quickly picked up the phone again, opened it and read his response.

‘dont order for me. i ate at work.’ She couldn’t help but frown.

‘oh okay.’ She texted back. She bit her lip nervously before texting him again. ‘are you coming home soon?’

She waited for him to reply and held her breath when she saw the gray bubble pop up.

‘no. im working.’

It was like another slam to her heart. She held herself back from shedding tears but there was hurt written across her face.

‘are we going to talk about what happened?’ Immediately, under her text a small ‘read at 6:23pm’ appeared and she waited for him to reply.

But he didn’t.

She was fed up and sent a last text. ‘Fine.”

Y/n called up Sojung, explained to her that she wanted to stay over at her house for a couple of nights. When she asked what was this all about, Y/n told her that she’d explain when she came over. She gathered her clothes in a duffel bag, stuffing them in without a care. Before leaving the apartment. That would be the last time she would see their small apartment. After a long night of explaining, crying, and two bottles of wine, Sojung convinced Y/n to block Changkyun’s number after leaving him one more lengthy text message. She decided that it would be best to just end their relationship. She didn’t want to have to worry about where he was and obviously he wasn’t going to be forthcoming with that information. And although Changkyun did read the text, again, he didn’t respond.

Y/n’s friends would end up gathering the rest of her stuff while Changkyun wasn’t home. She moved in with Sojung and would start trying to reconfigure her life. Before it was centered around Changkyun but now that he wasn’t in the picture anymore, she had to figure out what she wanted. She decided that she was going to go back to school and finish her degree. She had stopped because it was a lot of work and keeping a roof over her head became more important. But now that she had a living situation that was more stable, she figured it was the best move for her. And the work would be a good distraction for her.

But it didn’t stop her from thinking about him. Changkyun would cross her mind every now and then as she hoped that he was okay. He never tried contacting her after she officially broke it off with him. It troubled her because they were so close to each other, practically attached at the hip and now they were almost like strangers and she wouldn’t hear again from him for a long time.

#ssw freelancer #monsta x scenarios #monsta x imagines #monsta x reactions #monsta x changkyun #monsta x i.m.#monsta x x reader #i.m. x reader #changkyun x reader #monsta x hacker au

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perspective-series · 5 years

Text

Lilliputian Perspective (2)

By: @arc852 and @hiddendreamer67

Warnings: Slight fear, lying, and stealing.

(Check the reblog for the links to any future chapters)

————————————————————————————————–

Logan followed along slowly, noting that his hypothesis was correct. He often found himself having to pause for the Lilliputian to go further. Logan sighed. This would have been so much easier if he could have carried the man properly, but Logan agreed with the sentiment of not starting a riot.

“Do Lilliputians have names?” Logan asked, deciding to pass the time with his endless bout of questions. “Or are you a collective who all refer to yourselves merely as ‘lilliputians’?”

“Of course we have names,” Roman replied. “But why on earth should I tell mine to you.” For all he knew, the giant could somehow use it against him.

“Well, I shared mine.” Logan reminded him. “In my culture, it’s customary to have an exchange of names when you meet another person.”

“Well, maybe I don’t want my name associated with some beast,” Roman replied.

“I don’t think you understand how naming conventions work,” Logan explained. “Your name is still associated with yourself regardless of if I have that piece of information.”

Roman groaned. “Fine. It’s Roman. Happy?”

“Roman,” Logan repeated, ducking under a low outcropping branch. “Do you have a last name as well?”

“I might,” Roman said, smirking a little as he maneuvered around a rock.

“Ah.” So, Roman was one of those secretive types that believed keeping others in suspense about personal details would increase their value as a mysterious individual. Logan had never been fond of secrets as they tended to just get in the way of the truth. “I suppose Roman will just have to suffice for now, then. So what sort of person are you, Roman? Where are you employed?”

“Oh, I run my...own business,” Roman said. He wasn’t sure if he should tell this giant what he actually did. People didn’t tend to take it well.

“You’re an entrepreneur?” Logan sounded impressed. He had not expected the dark-clad figure to be a man of business, but then again looking at his surroundings Logan remembered it all resembled a bit more of a renaissance era. Perhaps this was a world that was behind the times as well as shrunken down. “What is your business, then?”

“I...aquire things to sell them.” Yeah, that sounded professional enough, right? Besides, he wasn’t technically lying.

“A tradesman, then?” Logan frowned for a moment. Was that the correct term?

Roman smiled. “Exactly.” Roman continued on for a few moments. “So, do you do anything other than terrorize innocent villages?”

“Well, for starters, I have not done that.” Logan reminded him. “Nor do I plan to in the future- hence this wretched crawling.”

“Fine, fine, you definitely do not terrorize villages, got it.” Roman still didn’t believe him. “Then, tell me, what do you do?”

“I’m a scientist,” Logan said. “An explorer, one might say. Recently I have taken to boarding ships and traveling to distant lands in order to discover strange and fascinating creations, of both flora and fauna alike.”

“A scientist?” Huh, that was not what Roman was expecting. “Well, with the way you talk, I’m not really surprised.”

“What is peculiar about the way I talk?” Logan asked.

Roman was about to answer but realized where exactly they were. “Oh, we’re here.” He thought it had been farther away. Or maybe he just got so into talking that it didn’t seem that long. Huh.

Logan peered over the hill, leaning over the lilliputian to see the freshwater pond. It was perhaps not the most sanitary of sources, but given the size of this island, Logan considered it would have to do. If only he had his disinfectant with him when he was tossed into the sea.

Perhaps the bacteria will be too small to do any damage. Logan joked to himself in his mind, maneuvering around the hill to get close enough to scoop some up in his palms.

As the giant began to drink the water and his eyes were off of him, Roman began to inch away. This was his chance. To escape this giant and never have to see him again. And he wouldn’t get caught up in his ramage, which Roman was still half sure was going to happen. He just had to be careful about this.

Logan carefully raised the water to his lips. Whether or not it was infected with bacteria became of little consequence as Logan felt the soothing sensation run down his throat. All too soon he had gulped it down, only to quickly be followed by several more handfuls as Logan fought to quench his thirst.

Okay, it was time. Logan was fully distracted and it was time to go. Roman turned and started to run away.

As Logan was about to reach in for yet another handful, he spotted movement out of the corner of his eye. Acting on his quick reflexes, Logan dove forwards and reached his arm out to block Roman’s path.

“Ah!” Roman cried as yet again his path was blocked. “H-hey!”

It was strange, but it felt much odder to be constricting Roman’s escape attempts now that Logan knew his name. “Please don’t go.” Logan pleaded gently, trying to remain civil. “I still need your help.”

Roman looked up at the giant warily. “My help with what exactly?” He asked.

“Well quite honestly, everything,” Logan admitted sheepishly. “I do not know the lay of the land and I can’t exactly go exploring as I normally would without starting an island-wide panic. I have no idea where I could take shelter for the night, and I am completely lost as to where I could find a sustainable food source especially considering everything’s diminutive stature.”

“Look, I have a life I need to get back to. I can’t be babysitting some giant beast. Besides, if I’m found with you, I’ll be blamed right alongside you. Why would I put myself in that position?” Besides, whether or not he was blamed for that, if he was found, he was going to jail no matter what.

“Well, then perhaps you should assist me before I manage to blow my cover and let your name slip.” Logan threatened.

Roman’s eyes widened. “Wait, what?” Roman groaned. “Ugh, I knew I shouldn’t have told you my name.” Even without a last name, if his name was mentioned, especially with a description everyone would know it was him.

“Fine. You’ve got me. I’ll help you, I guess.” Roman muttered.

“Thank you.” Logan seemed pleased with Roman’s begrudging compliance, sitting back to return to the pond. “I do apologize for the inconvenience, though. I hope you can return to your business soon.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Roman said. The only good part was that stealing didn’t have a schedule. He could go a couple of days without doing it. It was probably good to lay low anyway.

Roman crossed his arms and leaned against a tree, watching Logan. “So, what do you want me to help you with first?”

“Shelter would be ideal, so I can have somewhere to set up a permanent camp.” Logan took another drink. “Although I doubt there are many options for someone of my size, especially far from civilians.”

“Actually...I might know a place.” Though...that would mean giving up his own hideout. But if it was their only option then he really didn’t have much of a choice. “There is a large mountain not too much farther from here that has a giant cave at its base. It should fit you perfectly.”

“Intriguing.” Logan finished one last gulp of water. “A cave would certainly be ideal. Which way is it?”

Roman sighed. “Follow me, I’ll take you to it.” At least he knew for sure that no one ever came this way. It was why he chose it as his place of residence, after all.

“Perhaps you can point me to it.” Logan corrected, noting the way the Lilliputian was heading was hidden from the civilization by a growing mountain range. The natural structures were taller than Logan himself, and the human was willing to risk standing even at a crouch. It would certainly hasten their pace. With this in mind, Logan grabbed Roman up in his fist once more.

Roman yelped as he once again found himself in the giant’s grip. “Hey! I can walk!” Roman yelled, glaring up at the giant as he tried to push against his fingers.

“So can I.” Logan stood up, dusting off his knees which had accumulated quite a bit of debris from his crawl across the beach. “And I have longer strides.”

Roman groaned. “Well, a little bit of warning would be nice at least.” He muttered. He then pointed in the direction of his home. “Anyway, the cave is north of here. Just keeping going that way and you shouldn’t miss it.” The sooner they got there the sooner he would be put down...hopefully.

Logan headed in the direction Roman pointed, agreeing with the statement that it should be hard to miss if it was truly to his scale. Logan had to be careful to watch his footing, as several of the smaller mountainous trees threatened to trip him as though they were nothing but tree roots themselves.

Roman made the mistake of looking down as Logan walked and he quickly averted his gaze. He didn’t think of himself as one afraid of heights but even this was too high up for him. “You are...very tall.” Roman couldn’t help but say out loud.

Logan actually chuckled at that notion. “Among my own kind I get that sentiment as well.” Logan Gulliver was not an overtly tall man but certainly had a slightly taller than average build. Regardless, the idea of being truly giant was still quite unnerving.

“What about you?” Logan asked, taking a moment to once again look down at Roman. “How do you compare to your countrymen?” Logan had assumed most Lilliputians were of Roman’s size, but perhaps he was diminutive even by Lilliputian standards. Or more bizarrely, tall for his kind.

Roman shrugged. “I’m a little above average,” Roman answered. He was fairly taller than a lot of people but he also regularly came across people his size or taller. Logan definitely fit into the taller category.

“Are you really?” Logan was indeed surprised by that fact. “It’s hard to imagine a person smaller than yourself.”

“Well, it’s hard for me to imagine someone taller than you, so I suppose we are in the same boat,” Roman said back. Roman looked ahead of him, pointing as his home came into view. “There it is, right over there.”

Logan looked up, spotting the cave in the outcropping. It was well hidden away from the weather, a bit hard to find even for the human surprisingly. A sturdy limestone structure, likely created ages ago when sea levels were higher.

“I see.” Logan crouched down, maneuvering through the rocks to look into the cave. He was pleasantly surprised to find it tall enough that he could stand, and even likely pace a few long strides back before the roof of the cave began to angle down. Regardless, it was more than he could have asked for given the miniature nature of this strange land.

“Yes, I think this shall do nicely.” Logan murmured, inspecting the outer wall with his free fingers.

“Well, I’m glad you like it,” Roman spoke and then looked down, wincing as he took notice of all his things. “Just be careful where you’re stepping.” Thankfully he hadn’t stepped on anything coming in but he would definitely have to move everything around in order to better house the giant.

Logan paused, just a few steps in. He looked at his feet, eyes widening at the assortment of tiny furniture and trinkets scattered about the cave floor. Logan took a moment to process this, crouching down to get a better look. “...what’s all this?”

“...I live here.” Roman revealed. “This is all my stuff.”

“Oh!” The dots began to connect in Logan’s mind. “Why do you live all the way out here? Surely it’s a long way from town.” As he spoke, Logan set the Lilliputian down near the collection of items, feeling a bit out of place as he hovered.

Still not wanting to reveal his true occupation, he shrugged. “That’s how I like it. Not much of a...people person.” Well, he was, but others weren’t fond of him. Roman started to gather some of his things to move to the corners of the cave.

“I would argue that living out here you would be the exact opposite.” Logan offered. “Are you certain you’re a businessman? You seem more like a hermit. I don’t imagine it would be physically possible for you to make your way to the market often enough to earn your wages.”

“Trust me, I make plenty. Now stop questioning my life choices and help me move this.” He pointed towards his bed, figuring he could use the giant to his advantage a bit.

“Where do you want it?” Logan asked, lifting it by the sides with both hands. It would be easy enough to lift with a single hand, perhaps even pinched between his fingers, but Logan felt it rude to not treat Roman’s belongings with respect.

“Just set it down in the corner over there,” Roman said, pointing to the spot he meant. “And that should leave you plenty of room.”

“Plenty being relative,” Logan commented, but he placed the bed there just the same. “So, if this is what I assume to be your home,-” (Logan would assume it to be merely a treasury if not for the furniture as well) “- why did you offer to let me take up residence here as well?”

Roman sighed. “It’s the only place I knew that was hidden away enough and that could fit your giant self,” Roman said. “Just don’t go reading into it.” He mumbled.

“I’m actually reading into quite a lot.” Logan glanced around once more at Roman’s assortment of items, sitting with his back against the wall and his knees tucked up. “You never told me what sort of business you operate. I’m beginning to suspect your line of work has more nefarious origins than you implied.”

“What?” Roman stayed calm, Logan didn’t know anything for sure, after all. “And why on earth do you think that? Because I keep my things together like a dragon hoard? Well, sorry if I’m a little unorganized. Doesn’t make my business any less professional and legal.”

“No, I think that because you live alone in a cave away from civilization with a strangely abundant amount of gold. You also seem particularly keen on not sharing personal details and staying out of the eyes of the law.” Logan looked Roman over once more. “Not to mention, your wardrobe gives you the appearance of an ominous ruffian.”

Roman took a step back, glaring at the giant. “Well, I think it’s quite rude of you to be accusing me of such things when I am so graciously helping you out.”

“I don’t mean to offend,” Logan explained, knowing Roman correct. “Social graces have never been my specialty; I am often quite blatant with my observations.”

“Well, if you don’t mean to offend, then let’s drop it and focus on the next thing I can help you with, hmm?” Roman suggested, hoping Logan would go along with it so he could keep his thief status hidden a bit longer.

“Alright, lets.” Logan agreed. It did not bother him morally what Roman’s background was, as frankly no matter his origins Logan could not see him being a threat and frankly Logan had very little room for pure morals in his company when his options for a guide were so limited.

“Where can I find something to eat? I’m famished.” As if to accentuate his point, Logan’s stomach chose that moment to give a low growl.

Roman winced at the noise, taking a few more steps back for good measure. “...Look, I’m willing to do a lot of things but leading people here to be your lunch isn’t one of them.” Roman admitted. He only assumed he wasn’t being eaten because he was actually helping the giant.

“What? No!” Logan’s eyes widened, horrified by Roman’s misinterpretation. “No, you have mistaken my intentions entirely. That idea is positively revolting to me.” Logan gagged slightly at the thought. “I meant sustenance that you eat, not yourself. Have you been under that assumption this whole time? How truly barbaric.”

“Well...yeah. But good to know I was wrong.” Roman thought for a moment. “I think I know of a way to get you enough food. Just stay here, I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He started walking towards the cave entrance before pausing. “You aren’t...allergic to anything, are you?”

Logan was surprised to hear Roman even knew what allergies were- perhaps this race was more advanced than Logan assumed at first glance.

“No, I am not,” Logan assured him. “However, how could you possibly hope to bring back enough food yourself? I appreciate the effort, but…” Logan let his sentence trail off, his mind’s eye picturing Roman attempting to drag a regular dinner plate over and failing to move it an inch.

“Just trust me, I know what I’m doing.” He waved as he started walking again. “See you later.”

Logan wasn’t sure he particularly trusted Roman, but he did not have many options. It was likely that Roman would return eventually for his belongings, and if he did not Logan could always take the risk and go looking for sustenance himself. In the meantime, however, Logan was still feeling exhausted. He crawled towards the back of the cave, stretching himself out across the cool, slightly scraggly surface. The human winced, his stomach once again growling loudly at him that it had not been fed and sending hunger pains out.

“Be quiet.” Logan murmured at it, trying to ignore it in favor of getting at least a little rest.

#gt #Giant/tiny #thomas sanders #sanders sides #infinitesimal!sides #au #gulliver's travels #human!logan #lilliputian!roman #platonic #logince #lilliputian perspective #part 2

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thecardsimagine · 5 years

Text

Vampire!AU where the plague turned people into Vampires

Not sure if anyone did that before but I am currently in AU-Fever and here is my take on an Arcana Vampire!AU! It’s a long-ass post so most of it is under the cut, but there’s also a frequent mentioning of blood which you should avoid if you are sensitive to it!

Feel free to use it for your own writing/art but please link back to this post or @ me if you do because I’d love to see what you guys come up with from it and for the original idea!

Julian

Got turned half-way while researching a cure for the plague, meaning he can die from normal things like breaking his neck or drowning

He’s an insomniac because of it, neither being able to go through a whole night or day sleeping and always up instead, trying to find a way to reverse it. When he doesn’t research new ways, he keeps being a doctor and helping people, especially those who are attacked by vampires and/or a turning into one. It also solves the problem of hunting for food - because he gets his share of blood here and there - and he leaves the safe zone quite a few times, mostly alone but eventually in company of the apprentice as he teaches them the ways of the vampires on their request

The only vampire who will not get hurt by the sun, and yet, wears a full set of clothes, just because he thinks it fits his image. Wears an eyepatch so people wouldn’t recognize what he is, because he can’t turn off the red eyes like other vampires who are not hunting for blood

Doesn’t want anyone to know what he is, not even his own sister or Mazelinka and suffering under the walls he puts up because he never gets to work up the feelings he suppresses. Lives with the resistance, because no one noticed him not being human yet and eventually confides in the apprentice

Still very dramatic and sometimes wishes he was a full vampire so he could dramatically fall down stairs without risking breaking his neck

Asra

Only one to get away before people started to turn into vampires because he left before the plague hit Vesuvia. He comes back and hides within the not-contaminated part of the town, trying to survive alongside the members of the resistance

Is guilty of actually taking in the apprentice, even though they are a vampire and could hurt him and other people. However, he goes as far as to let them drink his blood which somehow makes them less aggressive and satisfies their hunger if they do it regularly

He’d still do everything for them

Provides herbs and support for the townsfolk, while helping to rebuild the city and defend it from vampire attacks at night. Uses his magic to fight off very vicious beasts and together with Muriel sets up magical charms and border so it’s harder for them to attack the sleeping people in Vesuvia

Knows something is up with Julian, though still tries to figure it out and keep the apprentice safe from him for one reason or another

Nadia

Countess and Leader of the rebellion against her husband. Excellent sword fighter and also helps out energetically with forging and importing - from other countries - silver weapons for the defense. Uses her talent for tinkering to build massive traps and support items

Has slept for a long time after the plague occurred due to unknown reasons, only to come back to vampires and beasts roaming the cities of Vesuvia and instantly knows she has to do something. Made it her new cause to get rid of the remnants of the plague

Works close with Asra and Muriel to keep the city save and is even more suspicious of Julian as Asra is, having caught him slipping out of the borders of the safe zone a few times. She is unaware of him being a vampire but suspects him to have something to do with the plague and wants to find out what is up with him and if he maybe is in connection with her husband

Has constant nightmares because of the stress and pressure on her, as she wants to do everything right and save the people, blaming herself for what happened to Vesuvia. Puts her trust in the apprentice to help them, is however ready to put them down when it’s necessary, but sees them as a strong ally in these desperate times

Lucio

Count and Vampire patriarch. Not only responsible for the plague to have washed over the country, but also for countless hungry and desperate vampires rooming the once so lively streets of Vesuvia

Still has all their respect since he’s the only one with a magical arm which gives him even more power than the average vampire and since no one knows the metal, they are afraid he could slaughter them with one touch

Red eyes 24/7 cause he’s a thirsty man all the time and loves to watch gruesome scenes and blood baths. Probably never needs to drink one drop of blood anymore after having ingested masses of it already, he just does it because he likes to do it

Is still willing to take back everyone that is in the resistance and make them a vampire like himself, so they can be a whole country again. Lately got infatuated with the apprentice because they are a strong vampire himself and he wants them on his side more than anything

Knows about Julian and thus forces him to do certain errands for Lucio - from bringing cake to luring a human or two ever so often -, or he’ll make sure everyone knows what is up with him soon

Muriel

The only to be killing vampires ever since the plague started. Still refuses to live with the resistance, staying in his hut and only comes out to help Asra and Nadia with defending the town

Only living evidence that bites could kill a human but not turn them into a vampire, as he has many, many bites after so incredibly many fights with vampires. He’s outside of the safe zone, so he is most likely to be attacked

Asra never told him what’s with the apprentice but he knows and absolutely despises them for staying with Asra. His main concern is Asra’s safety and he makes it known that they do not belong under the living anymore

Eventually becoming a second blood source in the event that Asra can’t feed the apprentice and pleads with him to help out. On some point, he accepts the possibility of humans and vampires theoretically living together in harmony if they sustain themselves and tries out new ways with the apprentice and even Julian after they sorted out the whole story about him, like drinking animal blood

Highest kill count and he has emotional scars from all the people he once knew and had to kill due to them attacking him, out of their mind and too far gone to safe

Portia

Came to Vesuvia after the plague happened in search of her brother, only to find it in shambles. Had to take a job at Nadia’s side to gain a little bit of protection

Ventured with the countess as she set up the resistance in defense of the vampires and became her right-hand woman in everything. Picked up sword-fighting more and more over the time though she learned the basics already when traveling before

Absolutely aware of what Julian is and tries to defend him at all costs. She is desperate when word gets out and he is supposed to be put down because of what he is

Trusts the apprentice because Nadia does, but has orders to keep an eye on them and to put them down too if they go wild. Eventually feels bad for them though and relies on them for help concerning her brother

The Apprentice

Did nothing wrong. Got caught by a vampire in the fateful night and left behind with many wounds infected with the plague. Eventually survived because of that and roamed the streets aimlessly searching for blood until Asra came along and pulled them out of their monster-thinking

Could smell what Julian was on their first encounter and so did he. They asked him if it was true and he only mumbled some confusing words before departing again. They learned afterwards that he was a regular at the shop to get medicine and so they started to ask him questions about their species, which Asra couldn’t answer them

Asra and Muriel put up with playing blood bank for them, causing them to realize that vampires could regain human sanity if they drank blood regularly. It’s something they discussed in the small circle of them, though the apprentice eventually confided into Julian too and even went as far as to introduce him to Muriel and talk about how bites do not turn a human into a vampire and how they themselves could have turned in the first place

Julian eventually took them with him on his ventures, where they met Lucio too. However, they refused to bow and follow him, upsetting the count greatly. They’d venture out into the plague-ridden part of the city alone a few times and have encounters with him, which irritated him so much that he called Julian and them out for what they are in front of the humans

After that, they have to hide from the resistance too, Nadia no longer being able to support their stay since she needs to keep up the face and they eventually flee with Muriel, thus parting from Asra, while Julian is supposed to be put down but flees into the vampire area instead

General Info

Due to the plague, the city got separated in two parts where the not-infected people set up a safe zone all around the city center, upper flooded district and temple district, barricading them in. Everything near the docks, Palast, Colosseum and the south end is contaminated with vampires and the animals that got infected with the plague (also meaning the lazaret is not available because it’s not possible to get to the docks, Mazelinka’s house and the Rowdy Raven have been relocated to the safe zone and the original ones are not available unless Julian, Lucio or the Apprentice go there. Please see the original layout of the city for references)

Vampire smell, thus the Apprentice was able to make out Julian. However, while they have to put on any kind of perfume or wash frequently so the smell won’t be noticed, Julian doesn’t face the problem as he is not a full vampire. A vampire can regain their sanity after drinking blood and will even lose their red eyes for a while until they need to feed again, but the smell stays. Vampires are still able to think and talk, but are ridden by instinct and will attack if they smell blood close by without hesitation. They do not feel remorse or will overthink their actions before doing them

The only ways to kill Vampires are: 1.) Killing them with an object containing silver (swords, bullets, knives, etc. - Being touched by silver will cause burns on vampire skin, but they need to be put down properly to actually die) 2.) Being killed by another vampire as they have more strength than a human and can rip through the tougher skin of vampires (Unlikely though, Vampires will not get alerted or attack their own species while roaming the streets aimlessly as there is no blood in other vampires that they’d desire) 3.) Killed by an animal either infected or not infected (a bear could probably still rip them to shreds) 4.) Magic

Muriel falls under category 3 and is the only known human to be able to kill vampires

Lucio’s metal claw does not have any silver in it (in this AU), otherwise, he couldn’t bear to have it so close. He just makes everyone think it has to keep his position above them

Magic still exists and can still be used by the cast as normal, with the Apprentice being the strongest magician still and they can still learn under Asra like in canon

Vampire bites do not kill or turn humans into vampires. Only their inhuman strength while they hold their victims down causes fatalities. To turn a human into a vampire, they have to get infected by the plague beetles by ingesting them or them crawling into open wounds on a still living person. Dead people cannot be resurrected, even by the beetles. The only other distributor are the vampire eels that gained this ability after the plague reached them too

To survive, the vampires in the resistance have to eat normal food, which will eventually cause stomach aches and lower the time they have until they have to drink blood again. They do not gain positive or negative effects out of it, a.k.a. Julian can’t get drunk from Salty Bitters anymore and the apprentice would not feel more awake from drinking caffeine.

The people of Vesuvia have a hard time leaving as the gates to other countries have been shut down from said countries to stop the spreading of the plague and the only other way is leaving through the forest which is also ridden with vampires and infected animals. There is an underlying frustration and anger thought they do their best to live their life normally and keep the community safe.

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searchingwardrobes · 5 years

Text

Desdichado: 13/19

I know, I am doing an awful job at regularly updating my WIP. How about some Captain Charming and some major plot reveals to make it up to you? (Including who the Black Knight is.)

Summary: An Ivanhoe AU that starts off Sleeping Captain and ends up Captain Swan (naturally). In which Killian is a dashing knight, Emma is a healer suspected of witchcraft, and lots of chivalry and sword fighting happens.

Rating: T

Trigger warnings: It’s the Middle Ages, so women are forced into arranged marriages and men treat them like property (except for a few dashing exceptions, of course).

Words in this chapter: 1,000 and some change

Also on Ao3

Tagging: @snowbellewells @kmomof4 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @jennjenn615 @bethacaciakay @thislassishooked @teamhook @kday426 @snidgetsafan @delirious-latenight-laughs @winterbaby89 @mythologicalmango @wellhellotragic

Eighteen Years Earlier . . .

The fog of late October rolled through the bracken causing Prince James to trip constantly over tree roots and fallen logs. He wasn’t sure how he would find the soothsayer’s hovel, but desperation drove him. He was yanked back sharply, and he turned to dislodge his cloak from whatever branch had caught him. Yet it wasn’t tree limbs but skinny, dirty fingers that held him fast.

“I know what you seek.”

James almost stumbled backwards as the face drew closer and became visible through the mist. Matted tangles of bright red hair, filthy rags on an emaciated frame, yet the most frightening was her eyes. Or lack thereof. Instead, jagged, garish stitches broke up her face, empty above her nose. The prince’s heart pounded in his chest even more when she lifted her hands, palms out, and eyes blinked at him from each one.

“You always wanted the throne more than your twin brother,” she said to him.

He ran his hands through his hair, damp from the cold drizzle. “I think everyone in the kingdom knows that,” he grumbled.

James remembered the look of horror on his mother’s face when he was only six as his brother coughed up lake water in her arms. The way his father’s arms trembled as he pulled David up from where he had slipped in the ravine when they were eight, barking at James, “Why did you hesitate?” Each time James let his rage seep through, his parents seemed to draw David ever closer. But couldn’t they see that his twin was too soft to be king? The throne should go to James, of that he was certain. And everyone in the kingdom whispered about it, as if they were already afraid of a twelve-year-old. Only because he felt made for the throne?

The soothsayer was expressionless, if a face like hers was even capable of one. She closed her palms for a moment, hiding those disturbing eyes. Then she thrust them once again in James’s face.

“But do they know what the castle prophet said about your newborn sister?”

He narrowed his eyes coldly. He hadn’t been able to sleep since the words had been spoken in his parent’s private chambers. Even he wasn’t supposed to know. He leaned closer to this girl who was supposed to see the future.

“What of it? And more importantly, can I stop it?”

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

Johanna stumbled as she ran, the cries of the babe in her arms muffled by a blanket and Johanna’s cloak. She had hidden the child as long as she could, but she feared it was no longer enough.

The little one’s chubby fingers curled around Johanna’s neck, and she brushed a kiss across the blonde curly head. “Shhh, we’re almost there.”

The moon was bright tonight, making it easy to see the gates that bore the symbol of the apple tree and the blood red chalice. Johanna fell upon the gatekeeper’s door, but it swung open, the station left unguarded. She tried the front gate, but it was chained shut.

The child in her arms started to cry, and she jostled her in her arms to soothe her. Johanna made her way around the estate’s defenses and finally found a kitchen entrance. A stout woman with gray hair and a suspicious gaze opened at her knocking.

“The lady of the house isn’t hiring,” she snapped and began to shut the door once again.

Johanna shifted the babe in her arms to reach out with one hand to stop the door from closing. “Please, I beg of you, go and get your mistress.”

The ten-month-old baby girl turned her head then to peek out of the top of the blanket. She blinked wide, innocent green eyes at the cook, and the woman instantly melted.

“Okay,” she relented, “come in out of the night air while I fetch Lady Regina.”

Johanna felt every muscle in her body relax. “It’s okay, Emma,” she whispered to the child in her arms, “you’re safe now.”

The present, just after the Crusades . . .

Killian’s eyes opened slowly, the light coming through the casement window casting a soft, warm beam of light upon his coverlet. He moved his arms and then his legs experimentally and realized that for the first time since he collapsed between the lists, he felt no more pain than a dull ache. Yet when he took in a lungful of air, he immediately began to cough and the sharp pain in his side told him that his ribs were still bruised.

“Easy,” a familiar voice admonished, “I pulled your sorry self out of a fire, remember brother?”

Killian turned his head, a smile brightening his face despite the ragged cough. “Your majesty!”

David rolled his eyes and waved his hand. “We dispensed with that nonsense ages ago. I believe I became your brother after those pirates kidnapped us.”

Killian smiled more broadly. “Oh really? I thought it was when I helped us break out of that Turkish prison.”

David rubbed at his chin as he regarded him humorously. “Or I suppose we can go all the way back to me dragging you out of the thick of battle when that Arab cavalry had us surrounded.”

“You only had to drag me out because I dove in front of that arrow for you!”

They both laughed then, even though Killian grimaced at the pain in his ribs.

“Nothing hurts or takes longer to heal like ribs,” David observed, his forehead creasing. “Thank the Lord above that I got you out of that fire in time. You’ve been asleep for two days.”

“Two days!” Killian exclaimed in alarm, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. He instantly regretted that decision as the room spun around him. Yet he shook it off and used his trembling arms to help himself up. “Emma! I have to get to her! Sir Baelfire took her -”

David stood and placed both hands on his friend’s shoulders. “We know, Killian. Robin Hood took his Merry Men out to look for her, and Regina insisted on going with them. They’ll find her.”

Killian shook off his friend’s grip, forgetting that the man was also his King. “You don’t understand! Baelfire’s intentions towards her of the basest kind!” His legs were weak as he crossed the room to retrieve his sword and buckler.

His panic and irritation only swelled more when David grabbed his arm and halted his motion. “Killian, believe me when I say that I have just as much concern for Emma’s safety as you do, but you can barely cross the room! Think for a moment before you do something rash.”

“You expect me to lay in bed like an invalid while she’s out there -” Killian stopped, blinking in confusion at the look on his friend’s face. “What do you mean, you’re just as concerned for her as I am?”

David averted his eyes for a moment, then ran a trembling hand down his face. “I didn’t find out until right before I left for the Crusades. My father told me on his death bed. I couldn’t risk sharing the information with anyone, even you, lest my brother do something to her in my absence.”

“Wh-what are you saying?”

David let out a long breath before saying, “Killian, Emma is my sister.”

#cs ff #starts off sleeping captain but ends up captain swan #cs ivanhoe au #cs medieval au #knight killian

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littleidazle · 6 years

Text

A Peek Into the Heart

This is the request I mentioned not too long ago. I probably should have read this over again or had someone read it over for me, but I guess I got a little impatient XD

I listened to this the entire time I was writing it.

I really hope you enjoy it! Make sure to tell me what you think, I appreciate it.

Genre: Hurt/comfort

Word count: 4,563

Pairing: Marichat

If Adrien could crack a hole in his chest and take a peek at his heart, he was certain he would see it crumbling. He would see it struggling to beat and slowly collapsing in on itself. In all its former glory, Adrien would see a breaking heart. At least that was what it felt like. With his labored breathing and heavy chest, Adrien felt himself falling into a dark pit.

The impact of every step and every leap he took didn't help. The harsh pause when his feet would hit the buildings only knocked the breath out of him more and made the ache intensify, but he wouldn't stop. He wouldn't stop until he forgot everything he saw, everything his father told him with that sickening smirk. He wouldn't stop until it all crumbled and broke apart like the seams of his heart.

It couldn't be true, and yet it was. As much as he hated the idea and the image that just wouldn't leave his head, it made sense. Of course his father was Hawkmoth; it was him all along. Of course he was trying to manipulate time and warp reality. He could understand his reasoning, but Adrien could see what it had done to the man he once looked up to. Or rather, he couldn't see him. When he looked into those maddened eyes, he couldn't recognize his father. A pipe dream induced by grief controlled his life.

He had backed away. Shook head and begged his father to stop. He didn't, he just kept rambling about family and getting back what belonged to him, but Adrien knew that it was no longer Emilie at the forefront of his mind. It was power and revenge, the desire to have God himself groveling at his feet for taking everything away from him.

Adrien couldn't bear to look at him anymore, so he left. He ran as fast as he could and ignored the tears building up in his eyes as he transformed. He didn't know where he was going, but as broken and crushed as it had become, his heart did. It beat gingerly and led him to the place where he knew everything would be okay.

Marinette was not a light sleeper, something anyone who had ever tried to wake her up could attest to. There wasn't a sound loud enough to wake the girl up. She often turned her alarm clock off in her sleep and even more regularly let it ring until it gave up on her.

She wasn't sure if it was a blessing or a curse, but when she was asleep, no one was waking her up. But for a reason unbeknownst to her, the soft thud of boots against her balcony always did the trick. At the gentle sound, her eyes would flutter open and catch the glint of her partner's bell.

She once asked Tikki if it had something to do with the miraculous. The kwami only replied by telling her they were simply more sensitive to matters of the heart. Marinette wasn't sure what she meant by that, but she learned long ago not to question Tikki's vague answers. If she wanted to be clear, she would, so Marinette said nothing more on the subject.

It became a regular thing as Chat visited her more frequently. She would hear the little tap of his feet and she was awake within seconds. Sometimes it bothered her, because Marinette valued her sleep, but she set her drowsiness aside because she valued him more. She wouldn't ignore the quiet sound or stop to wonder how it caught her attention to begin with, she would just open her skylight and greet her silly kitty.

That night, however, it wasn't the light touch on her balcony that woke her up, it was a crash.

Marinette jerked awake at the sound of her potted plants shattering above her. Her first thought was to transform and fight whatever person or akuma had made its presence known, but when a familiar cry reached her ears, she paused.

“Chat?” Marinette opened the skylight, calling his name cautiously. Her eyes widened when she saw his figure on the ground, not even trying to stand back up or wipe the scattered dirt off his body. He didn't move an inch, and Marinette was afraid he had gotten hurt before she heard a voice that didn't sound anything like him.

“Sorry about the plants, Mari,” he choked out. “I'll- I'll make sure to get those replaced.”

“Forget about the plants, Chat! Are you okay?” She rushed to his side, dirtying her pajamas as she kneeled down and checked his body for any obvious signs of injury. When she couldn't find any, she placed her hands on his forehead and then his cheeks to check for fever. She only felt tears, grimy from the dirt and the dust he accumulated on his way there.

“I don't. . . I don't know,” he replied, laughing a second later and looking absolutely mad. Mad and hurt, like he didn't know what to do with himself.

She sighed. He clearly wasn't okay. It was a dumb question. “Come on,” she whispered loud enough for him to hear. “Let's go inside.”

He shook his head. “I'll get your sheets dirty.”

“It's fine, I can wash them. Let's just-”

“No.” He shut his eyes and more tears fell. “You'll have to change them to sleep tonight, and then you'll have to wash and dry them and waste your time just because I was clumsy. I already broke your pots. Enough damage has been done. I don't want anything else to be ruined. Not tonight.”

Taking a closer look at him, at his wet cheeks and chewed on lips, Marinette found the injury. In listening to his words that obviously had a double meaning, she spotted where he was hurting and knew there was little she could do to fix it.

He had come to her before after getting himself hurt as Chat when he couldn't take care of it himself. She would clean and stitch him up, put a pretty, little bandage over it and tell him to be careful. This wound would take much more than that.

Marinette didn't argue with him. She didn't tell him to put his pride aside and let her take care of him. She didn't even ask him what was wrong, she just laid down next to him, not paying any mind to the dirt and glass beneath her.

She breathed in deeply, scooting closer to his body. She wanted to offer him warmth, and she wanted to show that no matter what had happened and no matter what kind of state it left him in, she was there. She wouldn't turn him away or tell him lies to make him feel better. She simply offered him solace, and he took it without restraint.

Chat moved his arm under her head as a makeshift pillow. She knew he was only doing it half for her, something she didn't mind at all. He liked the closeness and soaked her body heat up. As she nuzzled closer to him, humming a soft tune to sooth his mind, she felt his chest shake. He trembled and hiccuped, and though she desperately wanted to say something to make him feel better, she kept her mouth shut. She learned that sometimes it was better to just be there, and if he wanted to talk, he could talk. She instead moved her hand up to his, stroking his leather clad hand and trying to convey how much he meant to her.

It seemed to help, because a moment later, he found his voice.

“I can't go back home. I can't do it.”

She gripped his hand.

“He's there, probably already figuring out how to manipulate me into helping him, but I won't. I won't let him use me.”

“Who's trying to use you?”

He hesitated, but when his voice hitched and a sob attempted to claw itself out of his throat, he gave up trying to hold back. “My father.”

It was two words, but she could feel how much pain they held.

“I love him, Marinette. He's all the family I have left, but he doesn't care. He's so caught up in what we lost that he won't even look at me for a solid minute anymore. He's so concerned with getting her back that he isn't afraid to abuse me if that's what it takes. I love him, but I don't want to go through that. I can't.”

“Then don't,” Marinette found herself saying. “Don't put up with it. Just because he's your father doesn't mean he owns you.”

He laughed a bitter laugh. “You clearly don't know my father. I don't have a choice.”

“You always have a choice. Don't believe the lie that you don't.”

Chat started to snivel. She had seen the signs and felt the tears, but it was the first time she actually heard him cry. “You don't understand,” he said, beginning to sob. “You don't understand, Marinette. You just, you don't. He's a monster. He's turned himself into something I don't recognize and I can't escape him. He might even akumatize me to keep me quiet and do his bidding.”

Marinette's heart stopped in her chest. What did he say?

Though he struggled to speak through his sobbing, he didn't stop talking. The words were pouring out like from a broken dam. It couldn't be held back any longer, so he spewed everything out. Marientte wanted to listen and be there for him, but the words that exited his mouth paralyzed her.

“He doesn't care about me anymore. All he wants is the miraculouses. He suspected I was Chat Noir, but it didn't stop him. I almost got killed so many times, but he never stopped. He just kept sending them out and risking my life for his own selfish goals. I hate this. I hate this so much.”

Marinette couldn't believe what she was hearing. “Your father is Hawkmoth?”

He winced. Given his state, she knew it was the wrong thing to ask, but despite the distress on his face at hearing those words, he nodded.

She didn't know how to respond. She was supposed to be the good friend he turned to whenever he needed someone. She had made it clear to him from the first day he visited her that she would give him anything he needed, whether it was a good time or a shoulder to cry on. They had spent many nights together just laughing and playing video games, and some nights he visited at just the right moment when she needed someone. They had this mutual understanding that if they ever needed each other, they didn't have to hold back. They were each others' safe place.

Chat was likely expecting her to hold and comfort him, but she was also Ladybug whether he knew it or not. When it had something to do with her duty as one of Paris' guardian angels, she had to do something.

“W-why didn't you tell Ladybug?” she managed to ask amidst her panic. It was the only thing she could say without revealing her identity, but she wanted to do more. She wanted to ask him who his father was, but with Chat in such a fragile condition, she didn't want to push it. Getting Hawkmoth was important, but she never wanted to do anything to possibly hurt Chat in the process. It was too soon.

“I probably should've,” he said. “I don't know where she is though, and I needed to get out.”

“So you came here?”

“Somehow.” He moved his head down to look at her, and though the pain in his eyes was evident and the strain in his voice hadn't left, he smiled. The smile alone broke her heart. It was real, but it looked so sorrowful and yet so dulcet all at once. “You've always been here for me, Marinette. Sometimes I wonder if you're the only one.”

Marinette frowned at that. She wanted to ask about Ladybug, tell him she cared about him and she was there for him, but that would prove his point. That's when she knew that she had to tell him. Not just because it was convenient in their battle against Hawkmoth, but because she cared about him more than he could know, and she wanted to tell him that. For months, she had longed to tell him just how much she loved him and wanted to be in his life.

He was everything to her, and if she couldn't be completely there for him as both his partner in crime fighting and as someone he cared for, she feared he would never recover from this.

If she didn't, who would? No one in his personal life knew he was Chat Noir, no one would be able to talk to him and help him through it. It had to be her.

She didn't think of it as a burden. It was a privilege.

Marinette sat up and looked down at her beloved partner. His eyes were rimmed red and his mask was sullied from weeping. He looked tired and beaten, and she hated that look on him.

“Chat,” she said, her lips curving up into a smile to match his. “My Chaton.”

He didn't move, he just watched her and breathed as evenly as he could.

“You know I love you, right?”

“I know.”

“And I'm always here for you.”

He nodded.

“And I want to always be with you.”

He furrowed his eyebrows. “Marinette?”

“You have to know that you are everything to me.”

He sat up, leaning closer to her and gulping audibly. “What are you getting at?”

She could see the fear in his eyes. He knew she was about to say something big, and after finding out something so devastating, she couldn't blame him for being afraid. She cupped his cheek and kissed his nose. “It's nothing bad, not if you take it well.”

He started shaking his head. “No, princess. I don't think I can handle anymore.”

“Do you trust me?” she asked.

“But, Marin-”

“Do you trust me, Chat?”

He didn't say anything for a moment, and in those few seconds she could feel him battling with himself. She wished she could take a peek into his heart and know what he was feeling, what he was thinking. No matter how tormenting it was, she wanted to feel what he felt and know exactly how to ease his worries. She wanted to know, but she could only wait.

He eventually took a breath and sat up. They looked at each other earnestly and he gave her a soft smile. “Of course I trust you,” he said, “but go easy on me.”

She didn't start talking immediately. She looked down and fiddled with her fingers, feeling the nervousness build up in her chest. She struggled to string her words together. Seeming to notice that, Chat placed his hand on her shoulder.

“Do you trust me?”

She laughed. “You know I do.”

“Then tell me. You said yourself that it isn't bad, right?”

Casting everything aside, she started with a story. She told him about a typical, clumsy teenage girl whose life was anything but extraordinary. Everyday was simply going to school and coming home to a family she loved, nothing more, but one day when she came home, she found a strange box on her desk. She opened the box and a flash of light blinded her. When she opened it, her life changed forever.

At that point in the story, she could see it dawning on him. Recognition flooded his eyes. He didn't say anything though, he only nodded his head for her to continue, and with a shuddering breath, she did.

She proceeded to the main part of the story, telling him about the unique earrings and the creature accompanying them. She told him about how poorly she reacted to the red kwami and about the promise of keeping everything a secret, a promise she often wanted to break. She talked about the first time she transformed and how terrible she was at being a superheroine. She laughed as she mentioned how the first time she used her yoyo, she accidentally flung herself across Paris. He laughed with her.

“And that's when you met your partner?”

“No, that's when I met my best friend.” Marinette felt tears brimming in her eyes. “That's when I met the person who gave me the courage to be more than a clumsy teenager.”

He was beginning to tear up again, but she was glad to see that it was with a smile. Not the bitter, halfhearted smile he wore earlier. It was bright and it was beautiful. The tears shimmered as they fell, and though he didn't need to say anything, he leaned over and whispered two words into her ear as he wrapped her in an embrace.

“My Lady.”

Hearing those words without the mask covering her blush, well, it was a strange thing. A strange, but wonderful thing.

She rested her cheek against his shoulder, and if they weren't so caught up in each other, the image would have been comical. Two teenagers, one wearing skintight leather and the other in pink floral pajamas, sitting on the ground covered in tears and dirt. They sat together in each others arms as if the night couldn't age.

Chat pulled away with only a little resistence on her part. He placed his hands on her cheeks, joy plastered on his face. Just moments ago he was withering on the ground and choking on the torture of knowing the identity of Hawkmoth, but now he was basking in the revelation of knowing who his partner was. The difference was drastic, but she knew the pain wasn't gone. Just subdued in the moment. She felt like he knew that, but they ignored it.

“Do you want to hear my story?”

Marinette's smile faded. “Oh, Chat. You don't have to.”

“I do, actually. And I want to. Sure, the circumstances aren't the best, but we wouldn't be doing this if they were.”

She couldn't deny that. She exhaled, nodding her head at him. “Okay. Minou. Let's hear your story.”

Unlike her, he dove into it without taking so much as a minute to prepare himself. He looked eager, as if he had been waiting to tell her for years. She then remembered that she was always the one holding them back from revealing their identities, so there was probably some truth to that.

“I was a sad kid before I got my miraculous. My father always kept me locked up inside and never let me go out unless I was doing something on my schedule that he was in charge of. I felt like a puppet from the time my mother passed away to the moment I became Chat Noir.”

Chat wasn't looking at her as he told the story. He looked right past her into the night sky and the lights flickering and shining across their city. He had a nostalgic look on his face, and Marinette enjoyed seeing it. The soft gaze he held with Paris and the way his muscles relaxed. He blinked slowly, and it was all too fitting.

“So when the miraculous came into my life, I felt free. I was able to be my own person and do what I wanted to without him hovering over me, and it gave me the confidence to take a little bit of control in my life outside of the suit, too. I decided I was gonna go to school for the first time. I didn't care what my father thought, I was gonna do it.”

He looked up at her, almost as if he was expecting some sort of reaction. She only urged him to continue.

“My first day at school was a little bit of a disaster.” He laughed sheepishly. “I guess you could call me socially handicapped because of how my father isolated me. When roll call came around, I jumped out of my seat and yelled out, 'Here!' as loud as I could.”

Marinette giggled, remembering the time a particular classmate of hers did the very same on his first day of school. The same exact thing. . .

“But that wasn't the worst part. The worst part was when my childhood friend put a piece of gum on my classmate's seat. I was trying to get it off when she came in and it looked like I was the one who put it there. She didn't like me very much, but everything was okay at the end of the day.”

Marinette, wide eyed, was slow to admit to herself what he was telling her. She wanted him to say it, to say the words to solidify the truth. “What. . . what happened at the end of the day?”

He grinned at her. “I think you know the answer to that.”

“Chat. . .” she looked at him intently. “What happened?”

He looked down at his hands, smiling a little too much for someone who came literally crashing onto her balcony, but maybe that was a good thing. He looked happy. Realizing the look on his face accompanied the memory he was recalling made her a bit bashful.

“It was raining,” he said. “I had an umbrella and she didn't. I greeted her, but she ignored me. Not that I blame her. I was thinking of all these ways to tell her that it wasn't me and it was Chloe, but I didn't know how to say it without sounding like I was making excuses, so I just opened up to her. I told her the truth, that I was clueless and friendless. I handed her my umbrella and I remember seeing those big, blue eyes widen as she took it. And you wanna know the best part of that moment?”

“What?” she whispered in response.

“When the umbrella closed on her.”

“Please don't remind me.” Marinette groaned and he burst out laughing.

“It was so great though! It was the first time I laughed like that in ages.”

“But you were laughing at me!”

He shrugged. “Does it help if I told you it was really cute?”

“Not at all.” She rolled her eyes. “It was so embarrassing. And to think I still have your umbrella.”

Chat blinked at her. “You still have it?”

“Of course I do. That was the day I. . .”

“The day you. . .?”

Huffing and trying to calm her rapidly beating heart, Marinette looked up at him determinedly. She knew. She knew who her precious Chat Noir was, and though she could hardly believe it, it was the best possible outcome she could have ever imagined. She needed to see it though. She needed to see him.

“Could you detranform?”

“What?”

“I- I want to see your face.”

“Do you doubt me?”

“No.” She shook her head. “I just want to see it. I just feel like my heart won't let me believe it otherwise.”

He placed his hand on her shoulder, trailing it down to hold her hand as his eyes softened. “Say my name first.”

She breathed in. Looking at his black mask and leather ears, she willed herself to speak. “Adrien.”

He smiled. “Plagg, detransform me.”

The belt that made his tail, the zipper, the pockets she was still jealous of, the bell she loved to tease him about, it all melted away and left her beloved Adrien Agreste. She could vaguely see a blur of black darting down into her room (his kawmi, she assumed), but the only thing she could focus on was the boy in front of her.

Seeing his face, it was like all her feelings for the boy and for her partner combined and created this inexplicable affection building up inside her. She didn't know what to do with it, so she cried.

She wasn't sure what was more embarrassing, the umbrella incident or crying in front of the guy she loved. She couldn't help it though. It was all so overwhelming and the tears just spilled out.

Adrien began to panic. “I- I know we aren't very close behind the mask, but it's still just me, Marinette. I'm not any different.”

Marinette sniffed and tried to look at him through her blurry vision. It wasn't working, and the emotions just kept crawling up her throat.

“I was a little nervous since you always stutter and get flustered around me, but- but I didn't think you'd be disappointed.” His gaze turned downcast, and all of a sudden his eagerness and excitement dwindled into resignation.

She shook her head. “Adrien, no.”

“No, I get it. I wasn't expecting all that much. . . or anything, I just-”

She laughed through her tears. “Adrien, look at me.” She tilted his chin up and made eye contact with him. She could see it, the disappointment mingling with brilliant emerald of his irises. “Adrien.”

“Yes?”

“Adrien,” she breathed out.

He frowned. “I'm looking at you. What is it?”

She giggled once more, sniffing all the while. “It's you.”

“Yeah.” He nodded his head despite the confusion. “It's me, Mari.”

“It's always been you.”

“So. . . you're not disappointed?”

“I'm happy.”

“You're happy.” He breathed a sigh of relief. “Then why are you crying?”

She bit her lip and stared at him, taking the sight in and wondering how she never knew before. “Because I love you.”

If Adrien could crack a hole in his chest and take a peek at his heart, he was certain he would see it battered and stitched back together. He would see it struggling to beat, but it would beat nonetheless. In all its glory, Adrien would see a reminder the all was not lost.

They spent the rest of the night trying to ignore how filthy they were by distracting each other with chaste pecks along their faces. It was a blissfull couple of hours, but the reason of his visit nagged their minds as the horizon took on a pinkish hue.

“Hey,” Marinette mumbled tiredly into his ear, stroking the hand he had wrapped around her waist. “We're going to fix this.”

“How do you know?” he responded, trying his best to not sound despondent and miserably failing. He wanted to ignore the ache and keep showering her cheeks in kisses, but the morning sun signified the end of his night and the beginning of his battle with his father.

“We're Ladybug and Chat Noir. We can do anything.”

“Anything?”

“Anything at all. So longer as we have each other.”

He hummed in agreement, resting his head on her shoulder and holding onto those words.

So long as they had each other, and that they did.

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zxrysky · 5 years

Link

(a keith/lance fanfiction)

Just like Keith loves the ocean, loves the cool wash of water over him, loves the way he feels like he's floating in the water, Shiro loves the sea. They've easily spent over a year at this beach, all the months piled up together, and it feels like home.

The sea is something that is inherently theirs, kissing at their feet and nudging at their fingers like unruly kittens, begging for attention.

In the sun, the ocean is a cool reprieve. It's quiet and cold, a stark contrast to the heat bearing down on them and they love to dive under, watch their hair lose all semblance of gravity and start floating in strands, feel their body go weightless.

They swim as far down as they can, forcing their eyes open and squinting through the water to gaze further down, watches as the color of the sea turns from bright sparkling blue at the surface to dark swirling blue, going darker and darker until it seems to hit pitch black, far below where Shiro and Keith hover at.

That's where the unknown lies, where what they don't understand and don't know resides.

They have to come up for breath eventually, throwing their heads back when they break the surface, mouths open and drawing air into their lungs, letting the oxygen run through their veins. Their hair is wet, tank tops drenched with water and the sleeves stick to their exposed shoulders.

Keith laughs, the tips of his shoulders already turning red hot from sun burn and he dives back below under the water, twisting as he goes, lightly kicking his legs to propel himself.

Shiro looks under the water and sees Keith looking up at him, hands outstretched, a grin on his face as bubbles escape his mouth, and he blinks when he sees Keith edging further and further away from him, away from the lightness of the sun and the glittering water, and further into the dark abyss below.

He swims down, gripping his brother and tugging him close, pressing his fingers into Keith's sides which make Keith try to pull away from him, and they swim back up together, laughing high and happy, adrenaline pumping through their blood.

"I want to swim in the ocean at night," Keith murmurs just a little unhappily into the crook of Shiro's neck as Shiro wraps his arms around his brother and carries him back to shore, lifts him up and brings him back to the house, the sun beating down on them.

"Maybe when you're older," Shiro allows. When they reach the house, Keith slides down Shiro's body, slick skin against damp fabric and he runs off, barefoot, calling for lunch.

Shiro looks back at the ocean, watches it glitter temptingly, and locks the door before moving to eat lunch.

-=-

There are very few fairytales about the ocean. There are many mythological creatures, but few tales. And most of the mythological creatures are stories to warn children away from the ocean at night, anyways.

(There is the story of the mermaids, with teeth sharp as knives, scales littering their abdomen as their tail flicks, a large fin on the back. The upper body of a human, lower body of a fish, pretty as a goddess and hungering for the blood of man.

A boy went out to sea once in the evening, lovelorn and desolate, and he saw a beautiful girl in the ocean, swimming. He swam over, asked for her name, and the girl said that she didn't have a name.

"But you look upset," she said, tilting her head. Her hair fell in long curls behind her back, the ends floating on the water surface, and her eyes were very, very blue.

"My heart was broken today," the boy murmured quietly, looking away. The girl reached for him, tilting his face up, and inched closer, eyes wide. Her hands were soft, like flower petals on silk, and they didn't feel wrinkled at all.

"Would you like me to mend your heart?" The girl asked against his lips.

"Please," the boy replied.

The girl took his heart and his name, took his love and his life, and the ocean ran red that night.

It is a story to warn boys from lingering on the beach at dusk, to tell him of the horrors of love unknown.)

Their grandmother tells them a different story.

There was a girl who lived below the ocean, bright eyed and filled with life. She had the upper body of a human and the lower body of a fish.

All mermaid stories start the same way.

And yes, there were scales littering her abdomen. Scales at the tips of her eyes, lips the color of her tail, teeth that resemble nails.

Her father told her not to go up to break the surface, but she did anyway, curiosity curling around her neck and making her feel like she'd drown in her own ocean if she didn't search. She swam up, broke the surface, and there was a boy on the beach, stringing shells together.

"What are you doing?" She asked, inching closer. She made sure that her lower half was concealed by the waves creeping around her waist, but her fingers closed around water as she yearned to touch the boy and find out if he was as soft as he looked.

"Making a necklace for someone," the boy replied, looking up. He had black tousled hair, eyes the color of gold, and his lips were pink and full.

"A shell necklace?" She said, and unknowingly, so drawn by how ethereal he looked sitting on the beach, she swam closer. "It's very pretty."

"Would you like me to make one for you?" The boy asked, and he moved further to where the water met sand. "You're very pretty."

"Please," she said, and that seemed like how all stories ended, with the protagonist asking for something politely.

She said please, he said alright, and he coaxed her out of the water where she shed her tail, the skin growing tight and falling off like she was peeling, her teeth shortened and became blunt, her scales pulled at her skin and left it raw and pink as they littered the sand. Her hair became matted, damp with water, and her new legs were shaky, toes curling weakly in the sand. The tail became a long skirt lying next to her, and she scooped it up with shaking fingers.

The boy looked her over and pursed his lips. "You're not very pretty after all," he said, and gathered up her skirt from her trembling weak grasp.

She was left on the beach, startled and breathless, naked and human.

"Never search for the unknown," their grandmother repeats it like a mantra, a litany, a prayer. Keith loves the story of the girl who broke the surface and asks their grandmother to repeat it as many times as possible, and after every story, their grandmother looks a little forlorn, a little sad, a little regretful, and her hands are clenched tightly into fists.

Shiro asks for the usual story of the boy who swam out to the sea, because he worries it may happen to him, and he needs the reminder of how bitter and salty the taste of failure is.

-=-

When Keith is eighteen, he decides that he'll go out to sea at night.

It can't be that bad. He grips his surfboard tightly and whispers to Shiro that he'll be leaving.

Shiro, who has absolutely no sense of adventure at all, holds Keith by the wrist and raises his eyebrow. "Are you willing to take the risk?" He asks seriously.

Keith knows that there is truth in every fairytale, but surely their grandmother's tall tales of killer mermaids in the ocean are exactly what they are. Tall tales. "Yes," Keith says, eyes bright with the moonlight. "Come with me."

The door is open and the wind blows in, a quiet sea breeze that lingers in Keith's hair, mussing it up, and Keith is one foot outside of the door, Shiro with both feet in the house. The moon is full again, bright and heavy on this night, and the sea looks gorgeous.

"I can't," Shiro says tightly, swallowing. "I can't risk it."

He knows that if he swims once, if he meets the pretty mermaid with brilliant eyes and a sparkling smile, he'll lose it all and the sea will run red.

Keith stares at him for a long moment, gaze warm and understanding, before he turns and steps out of the door, rolling his shoulders back and shaking his muscles out.

"I won't be long," he says, looking at the sea. "I'll be back soon."

"I'll wait up."

Keith looks back for a moment, and darts back into the house, tracking sand on the carpet as he throws his free arm around Shiro. "Don't worry so much. I'll be fine."

Will you? Shiro thinks. For all the time they've spent at this beach with their grandmother, she has never lied.

His brother throws him a smile, moonlight glowing against his skin, and Shiro takes a long shaky breath.

Maybe there really is no use in believing in tall tales. But for now, for tonight, for all the other nights Keith decides to go out and swim, Shiro will stay at home and glance at the window to see if Keith's alright.

-=-

When Keith starts regularly swimming at night, he slowly loses that lingering doubt in his heart of the unknown. Of Shiro's fears, of his grandmother's stories.

The ocean isn't as cold at night. It's still cool, silver and blue mixing and washing over his skin like silk draped over his shoulders, but Keith doesn't shiver as he enters, his muscles don't lock up and tremble like they do when he swims during the day.

The surfboard is left forgotten on the beach as Keith dives, letting the water run through his hair and watches as bubbles escape his mouth. The sea is a lot darker at night, the dark abyss having risen up quite a bit, and sometimes if he goes too far down, he can't see his feet.

This is probably the tenth time he's swam, and when Keith rises up for air, peeking at the house, Shiro's by the window, reading. His brother's still worried, still afraid, and maybe Keith can't fault him. If he were an older brother, if Shiro were young and reckless, maybe he'd be afraid too.

There's a brush of something against his shin and Keith tenses, blinking slowly before ducking down and looking around hurriedly. There's no floating algae, not fish nearby, it's just ocean and water as far as he can see, which is why the thought of something brushing against him is a little eerie.

He goes back above the surface, arms working as he keeps himself afloat, turning around and checking if he's still the only one in the ocean. A healthy dose of paranoia never hurt anyone.

Keith turns one more time and a head pops up above water, a boy with brown skin and even darker hair looks back at him, eyes startlingly blue.

Keith swallows tightly and inches back, limbs moving quickly to bring him back to shore. He didn't see this boy enter the ocean, didn't hear the boy's splash, didn't hear his footsteps against sand and he's not that far from shore, is he?

He doesn't dare turn to look back and keeps his eyes on the boy, just in case, just in case.

"Who're you?" The boy asks, loud and clear, and he looks curious. Just curious, like a boy who's met a new friend, and maybe he isn't dangerous?

"Keith," he says, and tries to propel himself backwards. He's not really up for meeting new people in the middle of the ocean at night. The fear is starting to set in, gripping his heart, and he's confident his eyes are blown wide and his fingers are shaking.

He prays that his grandmother's stories aren't real.

"Keith," the boy repeats, tasting the word on his lips, on his tongue, and he licks his lips, seemingly satisfied. "Nice name."

"Yours?" Keith says, praying he's a normal boy.

"I don't have a name," the boy says, and flashes a grin.

He has sharp teeth, sharper than the knives Keith keeps at home for fun, and Keith's breath hitches in his throat.

It feels like he's looking death in the eye, with chills running down his spine and all of a sudden, the moonlight is haunting instead of beautiful, the ocean is brutally freezing instead of cool.

He can't swallow properly, throat moving uselessly and his mouth is clamped shut; his whole body is tensed up and he knows - he knows that if this boy is a mermaid from the tales his grandmother told him, there is no way he'll reach shore before this boy.

This mermaid.

The boy circles him like a shark, smiling all the way, teeth bared and eyebrows raised, looking like he's challenging Keith. There are tiny blue scales scattered across the tips of his shoulders, the very place where Keith would be sunburnt if it were mid afternoon, and Keith stays very still, moving slightly only to keep himself afloat.

"Why aren't you talking?" The boy says, swimming closer, frowning. "Talk a little. I've never seen a human."

"I've never seen a mermaid," Keith replies, the words rushing out of him like a train wreck, tripping over themselves and collapsing in a pool. "Don't hurt me."

"You didn't say please," the boy notes, clicking his tongue. "No manners. And you know what I am! How interesting."

"I-" Keith swallows tightly when the boy presses up close, his skin sticky and soft against Keith's chest and the scales are hard against his shoulders. The boy reaches up and picks at his hair, and Keith's about to move back when the boy grips it tight and wrenches Keith's head back in a swift movement.

Pain rings through his head, throbbing at the place where the boy pulled at Keith's head and it makes him feel terribly exposed, the fear crawling in under his skin and staying, making a home of its own as the boy stares at Keith's neck.

With his free hand, the boy runs one finger down Keith's neck, slowly, lingering over where Keith's pulse throbs hard with fear and danger running through his veins, and the boy taps Keith's Adam Apple, making him choke a little.

"You're very pretty," the boy says, and he licks his lips.

Keith shudders, eyes squeezing shut, prepared for the burst of pain where knives dig into his skin but the boy lets go. He lets go and Keith throws himself back, as far back as he can, arms moving to push himself even further, to put as much distance between him and the boy.

It's hard, thinking of this boy as a mermaid when all Keith can see is his very human upper body and it's distractingly pretty. Distractingly handsome. It could get him killed.

The boy stares at him a little absentmindedly, head tilted to the side, like he's trying to understand Keith.

"Will you come again?" The boy asks, and Keith swears to himself he will not.

"Maybe," his mouth traitorously says, eyes trained on the boy's shiny blue eyes, the upward curve of his lips as he smiles, closed mouth, and looking all for the world like a gorgeous human boy in the ocean. Keith feels like he's in a daze.

"Good."

The boy lingers in the ocean as Keith scrambles back to shore, and when he stands outside his house, hand on the door, Keith turns to see the boy dive under the ocean, his tail a dark shimmering blue.

His heart is hammering in his chest, his throat is locked up, and his hand shakes as he opens the door.

"Keith?" Shiro says from the window, raising an eyebrow. He stands up, reaching out. "You look kinda spooked."

Keith catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror and his eyes are wide, a wild look in them, and his breaths are shaky.

"I'm fine," he says, trying to convince himself as well. "I just- I saw a shark's fin. Got a little worried."

Shiro pauses, looking Keith over, before ruffling Keith's hair. "Go shower and get some rest. Better avoid the sea for a while, if you're seeing sharks."

"... Yeah," Keith murmurs, looking down. "I'm a little tired."

He sleeps, and his dreams are filled with tan skin and sharp teeth against his neck.

-=-

He stays away from the ocean for three nights, but every night he looks out of the window and he sees the shadow of a boy in the sea, and there's a call - a pull, something that makes Keith want to throw his shirt off and swim.

Keith goes to Shiro's room to sleep after double checking that the door is locked, and spends a long time at the door, trying to decide if he should leave.

[commissions are open!]

#vld #voltron #klance #keith x lance

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manireads · 6 years

Text

Freelancer

Two post in one quarter?!! I’m on a roll. I really don’t know what this is. I wanted it to be a series but I want to know if anyone is actually interested in reading something like this. Just a little background, I was inspired to write this after watching the music film for the connect. Seeing I.M. in front of the computer made me want to write a hacker au for him. There is not much going on in this part but I’ll post some more with some action later. This is just kinda of setting up the reader and I.M. relationship. Also I still haven’t found my glasses so there might be some typos.

Word Count: 2299

I.M. x Reader

Hacker/Mafia AU

‘If I take a double shift tomorrow and then we wish on a star, all our dreams come true, and he actually gets a paid project, we might be able to pay our bills without having to sell my left kidney.’ She watched the ramen in the pot cook. Her mind wandered off to other thing and soon she began to absentmindedly stir the noodles. Y/N was started out of her thoughts, as she heard the sound of front door to her studio apartment slam shut followed by the voice of her boyfriend, Changkyun.

“Hey,” Before she knew it he was behind her, his chin resting on his on her shoulder, his arms wrapped around her waist. “How was your day? Anything happen at the restaurant?” She felt safe with him around and being close with him after a stressful day made her worries fade away, temporarily.

“I keep telling out that you have to get rid of those old sneakers. The bottoms are so flat, there’s no grip on them.” He chuckled, his voice laugh deep and hearty. He nuzzled his face into the side of her neck, his breath tickling her skin.

“I can’t do that. Converse look better the more you wear them and the more worn the get.”

“You’ve had those since high school.” “Exactly, you can’t get all those years of dirt and grime back.”

“That’s gross.” He said moving away from her, making his way to the small sofa on the other side of the room. He plopped down on to it, sighing loudly. He was relieved to finally be home. The days that he had to spend that outside the comfort of his own couch, were undeniably the worst. But you have to make money to live, right?

“I would get a new pair but we just can’t afford to spend money on new sneakers like that right now.” Y/N finished the ramen bringing the pot over to the couch, along with two cans sodas that she had picked up earlier. She tossed one to to him before placing the pot on the coffee table in front of the sofa and taking a seat next to him.

“Speaking of money,” Changkyun groaned knowing exactly were the conversation was going. He really didn’t want to get into an argument today. Quickly, he leaned forward stuffing his face with ramen trying to avoid conversation all together. “Oh, come on Changkyun,” he looked at her mouth full and cheeks puffed out, looking at her with feigned innocence. “We have to talk about this.”

He chewed his food and swallowed before looking at her, “Yeah but not tonight, alright?” He said before giving her a kiss right on her closed lips, a smile spread across his face as she agreed in a less enthusiastic way. The both leaned back into the couch, slowly sinking into it. His thoughts became consumed with the show that was playing on the laptop that sat on a stool right across the coffee table. Y/N unfortunately couldn’t get into the tv show. She was too busy thinking about everything Changkyun wasn’t.

When Y/N looks back on their relationship, she never thought that this is where they would be. She honestly thought that they would have broken up at the end of high school. She didn’t think that they were going to last as long as they did when he asked her out at the beginning of their first year. But time after time, Changkyun stuck with her and in turn she became attached as well. But when third year started to come to a close, she knew that it was coming to a end. Changkyun had started to talk about moving away from their home town and all the plans that he had had for his future. The more he talked about it, the more she realized that she wasn’t included and at first it didn’t bother her, but as it started to sink in she realized that she really loved him and was too attached to say goodbye so soon.

She would remain silent about it in front of him. But when he wasn’t around, she started to look up all the places he mentioned. She even started to plan out what compromises for the two of them. One where she could go to her dream school and and not be to far away from him was impossible, so that was out. A long distance relationship was out of the question, she barely could text him regularly and they was each other everyday.The only option was to move out of their hometown together. But she didn’t want to intrude on his plans, so she had to talk to him. It was probably the most awkward conversation they have ever had but it was the most important.

At the end of it all, Y/N found that he always wanted her to be by his side but he was afraid she wouldn’t want to because she seemed destined to do bigger and better. Y/N had scholarships to some of the best colleges in the country lined up and waiting for her. Her passion being the arts, she could have studied anywhere she wanted and had a foot up in that difficult industry. Your future was waiting for you and he knew that he couldn’t keep up. So he never mention how he wanted to be with you after graduation. He was afraid that he wouldn’t be enough for you, and sometimes he still feels this way when he can’t give you everything you need and want. So in true Changkyun fashion, instead of talking about it he’d rather ignore the feelings in his heart and the thoughts racing in his mind. He act like everything was okay, for you.

After hours of binge watching some show, the both of them were too brain fired to take in another second. Y/N went to clean up their dinner and Changkyun closed down the laptop and packed it away with his other equipment. Changkyun seemed docile enough that Y/n thought now would be a good idea to talk to him now. She known him for years now and knows that to get him to listen would be during his sleepiest moments. She couldn’t outsmart him when he was wide awake but when he was on his way to lala land was her time to strike. He’d talk to her and promise her things during their pillow talk and in the morning she’d hold him to it. She wished that she wouldn’t have to use such secret tactics to get to him but it was really her only way.

“Babe,” She started noticing his tired walk as he carried himself to the bathroom and she followed. “The month is almost up and I don’t think we are going to make it.”

“Okay, I get it. And I am trying to do a little more. You know I’m just a free-”

“A freelancer, yes I know. But the stipend that that company gives you is not enough. They rarely give you any jobs since the first couple of months there. If your a freelancer, you should be able to work for anyone who pays.” You said coming out of the bathroom to sit across from him on the couch. Sinking into the cushions you watched him as he sat with back against the wall and his phone in his hand as he typed away.

“Yeah, but I sign a exclusive contract with them for the rest of the year and if I were to pull out then there goes my only source of reliable income. I want to leave honestly but It would be even worse for us because I’d have nothing to give.” He sighed closing his phone and tossing it to the side. He looked at Y/N with tired eyes. She knew how hard he worked and she hated having this conversation more than anyone else. She never wants to pressure him but she had to stay headstrong.

“Okay, what about that other project you were talking about maybe a couple a months ago. Your friend DK was working on it right? What ever happened to that?”

“It didn't really pan out. They didn’t need me and it was just a start up so I don’t think I would have been getting paid much either way.” You both stared at each other. He could see the frustration in you eyes. “But,” He offered carefully. “I do have something coming my way. It just going to take time before I can actually get paid for it.”

“Changkyun, how many times are you going to tell me that before you actually do get paid.”

“Hopefully not again. I’m already breaking my company contract so I’m risking a lot already. I know it’s been tough but this time it will be good. They are real serious about the work the want done and I can do it. We just have to wait until I actually finish the job.”

“So what do we do now, Changkyun? We need money and we need it fast. I doubt that Ms. Choi is going to let us give the rent in a couple weeks late. She’ll kick us out, then what will we do, huh?” She could feel her voice cracking and her eyes watering. She hated this feeling more than anything. It was like she was stuck between wanting to protect him and his fantasy that some how they’d be okay and the harsh reality that they were screwed. He looked at her knowing that the would burst out in tears at any moment. He scooted up to the edge of the bed holding his arms out.

“Come here. You know I hate to see you cry.” She got up and walked over to him becoming entrapped as he wrapped his arms around her hips. Pressing his head into her stomach, they stayed like this for a long moment. “I’m going to make this right to you, I promise.” At his promise he looked up at her. “Someday, you’ll never have to cry over money again. We’ll be so rich that our kids will have those cute little motor cars and they’ll drive them around our huge backyard of our mansion. When they get speed we’ll have a hired police man give them little tickets that that they could pay.” He smiled as he saw the edges of the mouth curl up into a little smile. “That’s how rich we’ll be. I swear. I just need a little more time”

“Our kids?” You asked a slight chuckled. She wanted to continue to argue but she couldn't find the strength when he looked at her like that.

“Yeah, I mean if you want kids. I would love to have a little baby that looks like you but I could teach to code like me.”

“Hey, I can code somethings! My old tumblr, I did that all by myself.” She giggled hitting him on his shoulder.

“Okay but when I try and show you other things, you can never get it.” The two of them moved further into the bed, lying down as the exhaustion of the day caught up with them.

“Yeah, past tumblr it gets to hard, so I give up.” She smiled and moved hair out of his face. “I love you, you know that, right?”

“You wouldn’t be dealing with me if you didn’t.”

“You got that right.” They both chuckled.

“I love you too.” He replied as he both of them got comfy under the covers and swiftly fell asleep.

It was late into the night when the bed started to vibrate. It woke Y/N slightly but as she opened her eye sightly, she noticed it was still dark outside. Changkyun on the other hand was wide awake from the vibrations. Quickly, he found his phone that responsible for waking them. Y/N couldn’t see who had called him, opting to try and fall back asleep. Changkyun, however, picked up as soon as he realized who called.In a hushed voice he talked to the other person, from time to time he would look over to Y/N, hoping he hadn’t been too loud and woke her up. Changkyun and the person on the phone agreed on something and he asked for address to be texted to him and with that, the phone call ended. Changkyun laid there for only a second debating whether or not to let you know that he was heading out. He decided against it and tried to get out of the bed as silently as possible. He quietly moved around the room packing up his laptop and some other equipment into his backpack. Shuffling into his sneakers, he looked at you sound asleep. He knew he had to do this for you. He exited the apartment making his way out into the night, not knowing that when closed to the door you rolled over in the bed to stare at the door.

“Where in the hell can he be going at 3am in the morning?”

#i.m. x reader #monsta x scenarios #monsta x imagines #monsta x texts #monsta x hacker au #monsta x i.m.#i.m.#changkyun #im changkyun #ssw freelancer

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tk-duveraun · 6 years

Text

Title: Frozen Expressions 5/? Fandom: Star Wars: The Old Republic Rating: T Genre: Romance & Adventure Summary: All Morathis wanted was to save his brother. Despite researching with an intensity to make any member of House Seris proud, it may have been a mistake to approach Lord Faximil for help with the endeavor. Notes: This Is Fine.png Previous Parts: One Two Three Four

The ceiling is painted a slightly lighter color of cream. One of the soft blue lamps needs a new capacitor. Fox’s sheets are knock offs, not real kilik silk. And Morathis has absolutely no idea what he’s supposed to do now. He’d cleaned up, but his legs were still shaking, so he’d laid back down on Fox’s bed and now he’s back from his own wash and clearly preparing to sleep.

What is the protocol for after a rough, angry kriff with an enemy? Cuddling is certainly out, no matter how much his chilled body wants to feel the fire again. The optimal solution would have been to leave while Fox was washing, but it’s too late for that now. He can leave now, now, but he’d only put his pants back on and his uniform is scattered across at least two rooms and there is no chance of him being able to rummage around for all of it without Fox trying to talk to him.

He shivers, even though he should be warm under the blankets. He supposes the next best option is to sprint to his own room in his pants and simply wear a second uniform tomorrow, but Morathis has no idea where his assigned room is or if his things are even in it, so that plan would require speaking to at least one person, which is out of the question.

Fox yawns loudly because the man wouldn’t know subtlety if it stabbed him in the chest. He stretches his arms and shakes the bed more than a herd of rampaging brontos as he settles into a comfortable position. Really, the mattress quality is complete shite if Morathis is jostled this much.

When the shaking stops, Morathis risks a glance at Fox, who is mercifully facing the opposite direction. But looking is a mistake because it lets Morathis see the shallow scratches he’d left on Fox’s back. He considers just how unthinkable staying to cuddle is and again concludes that the answer is too unthinkable.

“Don’t forget to turn out the lights,” Fox says, as if Morathis is some lover he’d wooed into his bed and not just an angry colleague who’d tried to exorcise his overwrought emotions with a kriff.

It didn’t even work, Morathis thinks, again staring at Fox’s back with his emotions roiling in his chest. It’s completely mad, but his mouth is watering and he feels compelled to pull back the mess the kriff made of Fox’s hair and bite and suck on the man’s neck until the feelings go away or he dies. He’s fairly certain death is better than the shame of the alternative. Even in the throes of puberty he hadn’t felt this out of control of his thoughts and emotions.

Though he never gave his hand the command, it is nevertheless wrapped around Fox’s hair and pulling it away from the man’s neck. Morathis flashes hot and cold a hundred times in a second before he just sends the shutdown command to every part of his body. It doesn’t listen. Instead his mouth decides to say, “This is a disgrace. I don’t understand why Mardh lets you prance around with this womprat’s nest of a mane.”

Fox chuckles and the sound is low and so warm, Morathis feels like he has the sun on his face. Fox turns his face into the pillow to give Morathis full access to said disgraceful mane. His voice is deeper from the sleep creeping into it. “If you have a solution, you’re more than welcome to it.”

And now Morathis has a goal. He has something concrete and solid that he can do. He gets out of the bed and as he searches for a hairbrush he takes mental notes of where all of his clothes are. He sits back on the bed with far more grace than Fox ever could, barely even shifting the other man. He gathers up all of Fox’s hair and carefully removes the tie before brushing it out. In the dim, blue light, his hair looks like a dark swath of color providing enough contrast to make Fox’s skin seem to glow.

While at first Fox made low, contented noises, by the time Morathis has untangled the snares and unbound the knots, the Sith is fast asleep. Morathis gathers the hair together for a ponytail, but freezes at the feel of ice on the back of Fox’s neck. With a frown, Morathis pulls the hair out of the way and leans in for a better look in the light. There, at the end of Fox’s spine is a small, black prick-mark from Morathis’ cursed knife.

No matter how long Morathis leaves his thumb on the mark, it doesn’t warm, but even touching it as he is, Fox doesn’t seem to mind. He doesn’t stir, at least. With a shake, Morathis pushes the thought of the cursed scar away for later. He’s just about to secure the tail with the tie when Morathis realizes the problem.

He shows no signs of waking, but Fox is far from a still sleeper. His legs shift and his arms twitch and he’d moved his head several times over the course of the brushing, only leaving it in place because of Morathis’ grip on his hair. There’s no way a ponytail will last the night with that nonsense. He casts back through his memories until he remembers the simple three-strand braid he used to use to keep computer cables in order. Though Morathis’ hands move surely, the resulting plait is lopsided with strands already fraying out on the sides.

Morathis makes an annoyed sound, but ties off the plait regardless. He presses his eyes tightly closed against the gritty need for sleep and slips back into a lying position. He’s only just made himself comfortable on his back when he remembers the lights. Grudgingly, he lifts his right hand out of the blankets and snaps his fingers loudly until the audio switch catches the sound and the lights go out.

---

Morathis wakes up warm, comfortable and, above all else, relaxed. Knowing, really knowing that Tava is safe removed the weight of two worlds from his shoulders and he hasn’t felt this at peace since it became obvious Tava was Afflicted in the first place. Which makes it even stranger that he can’t seem to move. Reluctant to wake up and ruin his peaceful lassitude, Morathis closes his eyes more tightly and presses his face harder into his pillow.

Oh.

His own hair is tightly cropped and regularly groomed, so there’s really no reason he should have a face full of hair. Morathis experimentally tries to move his limbs, but he may as well have not bothered. His right arm is numb and trapped under his pillow. His left is slung over Fox’s waist, which would have been easy enough to fix except that Fox is apparently comfortable clutching onto his wrist with an iron grip in sleep. Morathis’ legs are even more of a lost cause, twisted up with Fox’s in a way that shouldn’t be possible with the hinge nature of knee joints.

Reworking the cost-benefit analysis for learning meditation techniques wars with figuring out how to both extract himself from this ridiculous embrace with Fox and end the morning with an embrace of an entirely different nature. He wants to rub his temples until his brain exorcises all of its silly ideas, but his arms are still trapped, so he can only clench the muscles in his thighs to stave off his body’s physical response.

Then Fox starts shifting around because the insufferable Afflicted can’t do anything subtly, even sleep, and even though Morathis should be capitalizing on the way the grip on his wrist loosens, he’s busy scolding his recalcitrant body about how inappropriate it is to kriff his assignment. He needs to extract himself, get dressed, find his room and then pretend none of this ever happened. He knows exactly where each piece of his uniform is. It shouldn’t take even two minutes to-

Why didn’t I just get dressed and leave instead of finding that flaming hairbrush? Morathis is still mentally chiding himself for his abject stupidity when he hears the bioscanner on the door beep approval and then the door is opening and he thinks he might just die of shame. Liaisons are fine, expected, even, but only so long as they’re discreet. Being seen by Fox’s people is not discreet.

But he’s an ash-ridden Sith. He probably kriffs people all of the time. And he’s between me and the door. It’s fine. This is fine. I can salvage this.

“My Lord, you have a meeting in thirty minutes.”

No, I’m definitely going to die of shame. There’s not a chance in the frozen wastes that Mardh would have missed seeing my uniform, Morathis thinks even as he does his best to make his body limp and his breathing deep and even.

Fox stirs and yawns and squeezes Morathis’s wrist, again as if he’s some hard-won lover, and makes a few sleepy sounds before saying only, “No, I don’t.”

“I’m afraid you do.”

“I don’t schedule meetings his early. I can see the chrono from here.”

Mardh’s tone is patient, as it usually is with Fox. “It’s with the agricultural committee. You agreed to having the meeting at their convenience.”

“Did I agree, or did you agree for me?” Fox asks. He strokes his fingers down Morathis’ arm and then gently extricates himself.

“Does it matter, My Lord?”

“Any other Sith would kill you for this, Ivan.”

Morathis stays perfectly still as he listens to Fox dress and bicker with Mardh. Eventually, the captain leaves without commenting on the Chiss in the room and Morathis breathes a little easier. Twenty minutes after Mardh’s intrusion, Morathis can hear Fox walking out of his bedroom, though the Sith pauses at the door to his receiving room.

“It’s to the left and then the second door on the left.”

There’s no one else in the room. No one else Fox could possibly be talking to. Morathis continues to feign sleep.

Fox isn’t fooled. “Morathis.”

Morathis could yawn and stretch and pretend to have only woken up at the sound of his name, but can’t see the point when Fox has surely known the entire time because the galaxy isn’t a fair and just place. “...What is?”

“Your things.” And then Fox is gone.

#frozen expressions fic #fox & rathi #swtor fic

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lexaterrestrial · 7 years

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“Only the Good Die Young”? Idolizing the Destructive

They say the good die young.

But is that necessarily true?

Not to insinuate anything but to merely pose a question.

A lot of people are inherently good. And many i know have died young. Many of them being great people with decent characters. But they were also doing terrible things.

Do good people do terrible things?

Another question: Do we say the good die young as an aphorism to detract from the fact that they lost their life so early, or to make up for the tragedy?

I am not speaking of the unfortunate instances of innocent people with cancer, freak accidents or even murders that take their lives early.

I am speaking of self inflicted casualties that could have easily been prevented.

I once went to school with a girl, who many have described as reckless. After graduation you could catch her in local sports bars on top of the bar with her titties out. Drinking every night and always looking for a party.

One night, her and 3 of her friends were drinking heavily while driving. She was behind the wheel going 80 miles per hour and simultaneously snap chatting, while completely inebriated. She inevitably crashed and died that night killing one of her friends. And the fate of the 3rd girl? She was tossed from the car breaking her ribs and somehow surviving.

A question i can’t stop myself from pondering… Would a good person with good character do something like that?

As hard as it is for me to answer that question, the simple, intuitive answer is

No.

Sure, people are troubled. And still carry many good qualities that benefit themselves and the world around them. There are many reasons for the things they do.

But a genuinely smart and considerate person, would not put their friends, family and others in that high of a risk of imminent death. Not even for the mission of a good time.

When we say, “the good die young”, we often refer to our idols, another topic i will be covering.

Take Marylin Monroe for instance, a beautiful, charismatic woman. She was an overdosing playmate, pills and champagne. And a sadness not many knew she carried within. What ensued in her head we may never know. But she died young. Found in her home having overdosed on barbiturates. Many idolized her for her fame, her figure and her looks.

Elvis Presley, addicted to pills, particularly valium. He would take so many drugs that he would be in a complete stupor before his shows and his manager’s and assistants would have to lift him up and inject cocaine into him just to wake him back out of it to perform. Many said he was a glutton.

I won’t go into Kurt Cobain’s death because there are too many controversies surrounding it. And i find his character to be pure and exempt aside from the pain & addictions he struggled with. Which raises a point: One can be a good person, still having problems, if they keep their problems from completely overshadowing their inherent good. Or separate them.

Another 27 club member, who happens to be, and continue to be my favorite is Miss Amy Winehouse, a passionate, sassy yet troubled woman. I adored her much. I adored her for her wits, her androgynous aura, her humor, her inner strength, and the fact that at the end of the day, she wasn’t afraid to say no, she just wanted to be a real person. She rebelled. But she did so in order to keep it real. She cried out in order to be so at times. She struggled with an eating disorder and drug addiction soon after meeting the love of her life, falling into yet another destructive relationship: one with crack. She then became an alcoholic later on, and died from alcohol poisoning at 27. As destructive as she appeared in the media. I found her to be an overall good person, who considered herself equal to everyone. Who showed her flaws. Who cared for others. And had the capability and depth to fall madly in love at levels most people cannot even reach. This showed in her music.

Aside from Amy and Blake, other infamous couples are: Bonnie & Clyde, Kourtney and Kurt and Sid and Nancy.

Sid Vicious was the vocalist and bassist for the Sex Pistols (If you haven’t a clue who the sex pistols are, you need some culture in your life boo).

This was around an era where big haired rockstars shot up drugs backstage and in hotels. They cheated on their spouses with many women and fan girls, covering it up by supposedly “rubbing burritos on their dicks.” Although that was Motley Crue, not the Sex Pistols, but regardless, that was apparently a thing. Now back to the story….

Sid Vicious was a dope addict.

Vicious met his eventual girlfriend and manager Nancy Spungen, and the pair entered a destructive codependent relationship based on drug use. This culminated in Spungen's death from an apparent stab wound while staying in New York City's Hotel Chelsea with Vicious. He was a suspect but released on bail. He then went on to assault a man named Todd Smith at a night club and then entered rehab.

To celebrate his release from Prison his mother threw him a party in Greenwich Village where a friend helped him obtain heroin and he died in his sleep that night.

Sid Vicious is an idol to many people. Was it for his music? Or his character and reckless punk rock lifestyle?

It’s interesting and hard to deduce, because a lot of people are ridiculed because of their poor behavior and as a result, their music is no longer listened to by many fans who protest their actions; just look at Chris Brown- who is still making music but not where he could be had he not been so reckless and abusive.

The last person i am going to talk about is the most recent, and that is Lil Peep. At only 21, he died from an overdose of xanax and benzo’s right before a show. Although many people are talking causes of death before autopsy reports will even be conclusive. It’s likely due to the mixture or amount he took. You would regularly see posts of him on social media popping pills on his tour bus or talking about xanax. Promoting reckless behavior to his other artists friends zx well who had fallen into the same trap. Many idolized him. For his image, his music and his struggles. But was he idolized for anything other than that? I would assume so, but i never hear much about it from people outside of his circle which is unfortunate.

Do good and/or smart people promote lethal drug use on their social platforms? Or do they choose something intelligent and influential to say…?

I won’t say that all troubled people are bad or dumb. Troubled people have foggy minds… that make us act outside ourselves. I know because i have been there. I started to realize that i was destroying my life, my potential and causing my family stress. We never really assume that things will play out the way they do, so we inch towards danger. We know the consequences but we make excuses in our head, and fool ourselves into thinking we’re invincible.

Freak accidents happen every day without one even trying. And TRYING only ups the ante.

A lot of people don’t think. At least not rationally. Especially before they think or act.

We cannot blame people for their vices or their troubles. Whether mentally or emotionally. However It is partly their responsibilities but also partly a disease.

But were these people good? We all carry some good traits. But over all as a soul. Were they good people? Some don’t know these supposed idols well enough to determine that. So why do we idolize them?

When you think of a good person what do you think of? Honestly.

Someone who is famous, beautiful, inspiring? Someone who died before their time?

Or someone who gives back to others, their community, spreads kindness and joy? Maybe volunteers, or even works hard to take good care of themselves and their families.

What i think of to be an all encapsulating good person, I envision someone who doesn’t ask much of others, who is self sufficient, someone with a good heart, good intentions and good ACTIONS. Someone authentic, who doesn’t bullshit for their own benefit. Someone who speaks truth to the public and puts out an image congruent with that. Who also uses their platform to help humanity progress forth, and not simply for their benefit. Someone who has a heart for those with less. Someone who does incredible things in the world that benefit others. Someone who doesn’t promote destruction or a destructive lifestyle, especially to the young and moldable.

Why are our idols not doctors, inventors, scientists, a teacher, a social worker, a firefighter, a counselor, or a veterinarian…?

Most of these people go unknown, and unaccredited.

Some of these people die young i’m sure. But we would never know it, unless they were famous or murdered.

Some people might say bringing Music to the world IS HELPING PEOPLE.

But is it? As a diehard musician this is even crazy for me to ask. Aside from their music, what do they do to inspire or be worthy of idolization?

I can only think of a few that make sense to me: Lady Gaga, maybe Jay-Z or J.Cole, Kendrick Lamar, Logic, and now my mind is blank..

Their positive messages & political statements are not just potently scattered throughout their music but also through what they say and do.

Just watch a Logic interview or Listen to his 1-800 song. Or hear him preach the mantra of “Peace, Love & Positivity” at his shows. Watch how J.Cole carries himself and even talks about false idols and false prophets (or is it profit$?), calling out society’s hypocrisies. Listen to the way Kendrick Lamar shines light on societal problems, poor neighborhoods, diversity and even your relationship with yourself, the influence of good, the evil and how not to fall into it’s trap. Even his interviews in which he discusses how he doesn’t drink or do drugs. Jay-Z, a father figure, a husband (although imperfect), a mogul, an entrepreneur and a legacy of hip-hop music with an actual message. He holds himself accountable and talks about his mistakes in his music. And lastly, one of the boldest women in the industry: Lady Gaga. Not only her Born This Way Album, Ball and single but her messages to her fans. Her profound, relentless strength in standing up for bullied kids like herself, who get made fun of for the way they look or not being good enough. And of course, her Born This Way Foundation that she founded with her mother, which spreads awareness for social compassion, LGBT rights and Anti-Bullying. These are artists that, if you told me were your idols, i wouldn’t need to ask why.

Being a leader, or someone worth looking up to, does not mean one is perfect, or should be. It means they try. It means they carry good, and are aware of their mistakes, and can openly talk about them in a mature manner and grow to correct them. Not blindly promote them. They aren’t only using their platforms to sell overpriced lip kits and post photo after photo in their thongs. They aren’t mean to their fans, or Diva’s to their assistants. They aren’t pretentious. They don’t do things just to look good. They are concerned with their soul, their intelligence, their purpose, not only just their brands. Idols do not even want to be idols, they are equal to man, and exemplify that we are all one, and we are all great.

These are inherently good people. And most of them, are still alive.

Tom Petty, George Michael, Prince, Robin Williams, Paul Walker, Michael Jackson… although a bit older than their 20’s and 30’s, they passed on earlier than they should have. I see these people to be necessarily good. And some of them to be passionate, caring and considerate, good hearted people, who spent a lot of their time on making the lives of others better.

So, do the good die young? Sometimes.

But suicide, and drug usage is not inherently good. Although it does not erase all of the good qualities of a person… it is not worthy or logical of idolizing. To be completely truthful, NO ONE should be idolized. And although we are all made to be different heights, we should not look up or down at one another. We are all equal.

But if we are going to idolize let it be because of ones actions, souls, and ones words: not their reckless, “rockstar” behaviors.

Let us be praised not for killing ourselves (or others). But be appreciated while we are alive. Give attention to those doing good, not bad. Look up to those people, the ones who didn’t succumb to the dark path but rather got themselves out of it, and helped others find the light in the process.

Perhaps it is in our nature to be drawn to a train accident or freakish series of events…

but we find ourselves examining and paying attention to the misfortunes of others, rather than their good. And we find ourselves paying attention to train wrecks to see what they do next, and for the controversial aspect of their entertainment.

My conclusion is that some good people unfortunately die young. But so do a lot of reckless people. Even though we are mortal beings, death is not something we ever picture happening to us. But the stigma in our society will only continue until we STOP acknowledging the wrong behavior and start rewarding the good.

- Melody Joy Novak

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