#but i don’t want to make TOO many assumptions and ruin the story for myself when it doesn’t follow canon

[highfiveheroes]

i guess the real question with the rat grinders fic is at what point do i give up and finish it. do i wait for the season to be done? do i decide to just fucking wing it and keep writing the rest of junior year and make it up as i go? do i stop at an innocuous place before this last episode? do i try to break everything into chapters so i have more time to stall while i wait to see how the rest of the season plays out? decisions decisions

[tipsydipsydo]

Pairing: tall! & sub! Reader x dom! OT7 BTS

Gender of the Reader: male

Word Count: 2.3k  

Rating: 18+

Genre: Smut/PwP

Warnings: Dirty Language + Dirty Talk; Dom-/Sub-Dynamics; accidental overhearing of a phone call, Mentions of Exhibitionism & Voyeurism; Mentions of Sex Toys & Masturbation; slightly mentioned Double Penetration; mentions of Anal play; Praising; Petnames; some Degradation; Daddy-Kink; Teasing; slight Edging; the boys are teasing the poor reader to Death

A/N: Well- that was a quick writing. Instead of studying I decided to write this funny request and to use my procrastination in a better way than scrolling stressed through TikTok. I hope y’all like it!!

Status: unedited bc I am lazy and should study. 

Request: i want to request a drabble/one shot: sub taller male reader and his seven boyfriends in which he confidently talks naughty things with his friend on phone but when he realized his bf are watching, he became crazily shy because he is just a big cute boy, then his bf decided they want to test those ‘words’ he has said, poor boy =))

Requested by: anonymous 

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After too many and super busy weeks full of work, you’ve finally managed to find a free afternoon in your schedule where your best friend and you have enough time for a nice, long telephone call on the couch. You are already over one and a half hour on the phone, exchanging the newest stuff that happened in your life with each other and joking around. Slowly your conversation turns their focus to your more private life and your bestie asks you about your polyamorous relationship with your boyfriends. At first just normal things like, how’s it going in general, how you all manage the relationship with all the different time schedules, how often it comes to fights and how you deal with that etc. Just normal stuff and  the ‘typical’ questions you’re already used to, when people realize that you’re not in a monogamous relationship. 

Your best friend and you grew up together. You met each other in elementary school, went through the curses of puberty as an inseparable team and even survived middle and high school thanks to the other one. Already in your teens, where both of you made your first experiences and got into your first relationships, your best friend had a guess that you’re not as straight as you want him to believe. No, they even assumed that you’re maybe not made for the typical monogamous relationship which the society preach every fucking day. 

Well, turns out that your best friend really knew you better than you did yourself back then but honestly, nowadays you’re thankful for their suggestions and that they gave you the save space you needed to dare to make new experiences in those directions. 

Nevertheless, they were still more than surprised when you introduced him to not only two or three boyfriends, no that you brought seven (!) other men to their birthday party two years ago. At first they were a little worried if you didn’t overload yourself with such a complex relationship dynamic and that it’ll turn out as a serious burden and not an enrichment for your life. Turns out, now it was their turn to make a false assumption about what’s the best for you and theu were more than happy to admit that everything turned out just fine. It truly makes their heart swell to hear the happiness in your voice through the phone everything you mention something about the boys. 

Quickly your phone call turn into an even more private talk and dedicate itself to the really interesting stuff. You’re sharing every detail in your life with another, so why should it stop when it comes to sex talk? You have absolutely no problem and any shame to talk freely with your best friend about your kinks and dirty thoughts. Sometimes you even think that you’re better informed about each other’s preferences better than your actual partner(s) are. 

“I think, I already told you that idea more than once... that I have a thing for exhibitionism and the thought of getting catched doing something ‘forbitten’ or ‘dirty’, right? Uhm... TMI but I don’t give a shit, whenever I am alone at home because they’re busy and we can’t meet for some days... I mastubate with some of the toys they’ve bought for me and imagine that they catch me. You know, when we have sessions with Dom and Sub Dynamics, they’re only temporarily and usually we go back to normal in the moment when the scene is over... that means, when I am alone and horny, I can do whatever I want to. I can jack off or fuck myself as much I desire and they wouldn’t say anything about it. It’s not like, I don’t appreciate my personal freedom when it comes to masturbation or that I want something completely different, no! We both already talked about that too, I don’t like the idea of Total Power Exchange, I prefer to be an independent person as soon as I walk out of the bedroom- okay, not only bedroom, we have sex in other places than the bedroom too- ANYWAY, what I wanted to say with that: ...”, you mutter and take a deep breath into your lungs. 

After holding such a long monologue your mouth dried up terribly and now you need quickly something to drink. You get up from the couch and walk over to the kitchen island to pour some soda into a glass. A satisfied hum leaves your throat after you took some gulps of your favourite sparkling sugar bomb. 

The whole time, where you moved around in the eat-in kitchen of the apartment, you are not that alone anymore as you thought you’d be, especially right in this moment. Namjoon, Hoseok and a boyish smirking Jimin joined you around ten minutes ago, leaning casually against the wall next to the door of the room and listen very interested to the conversation you have with your friend right now. They didn’t mean to overhear your private talk, they just wanted to know what kind of take-out food you’d prefer for tonight. 

Unfortunately your conversation turned out to be very, very interesting for them, so they decided to give you some more time to talk with your best friend about the sexual fantasies you have which they don’t know about... well, until now.

Hoseok texted the other boys in the group chat to join them in the living room as well, they need to hear those very important information too! 

Poor you, completely oblivious and naïve to what’s happening in this moment, not getting any kind of hint that not only your best friend would get those significant informations...

“...-what I actually wanted to say with that: I prefer to be independent in relation to all other non-sexual life-responsibilities. Well, that doesn’t mean we couldn’t increase the Erotic Power Exchange, right? To be very honest, I can’t get the fantasy of them taking my sextoys away and to forbid me to touch myself without their permission out of my head. I love to be their good boy and to get praises, I really do... but there is this thrill to be break the instructed rules, getting caught while doing it and getting punished for it. I want... I want to get called bad, filthy and dirty names, I want to be a disobedient, greedy and insatiable slut for them. I want to get spanked, edged and overstimulated, I want to get fucked into the mattress so bad, up to the point where I can’t get a single clear thought together and my brain turned to mush... I want to get used, ruined and wrecked by their cocks, getting my holes stuffed full with their cum and then plugged up, so nothing can run out anymore- God fuck, I should stop talking like that or I’ll get a serious problem! Well... sorry for so much detailed TMI, you know that this shit always happens when you tell me to stop overthinking and encourage me to spill everything that comes to my mind. Now you got every filthy detail you’ve asked for, you’re welcome.”, you joke sarcastically and facepalm yourself. You can’t believe how incredibly blunt and shameless you just threw your latest sex fantasy in every fucking detail at your poor best friend. 

Usually you’re more than shy to talk about such things, in your understanding the magic for your shameless mouth towards your best friend has to reside in the deep thrust you have in him and simply the knowledge that your relationship is platonic. It’s not like that you couldn’t trust your boyfriends wholeheartedly, god no! You know, that they would never kinkshame you for anything, 

it’s just... after sharing those thoughts it would result something out of it. You don’t want that they  think you’re a weirdo or that they only do specific things because they know it would turn you on. 

The other one just snorts in amusement when you voice this slight helpless apology, they can imagine the significant blush which has settled down on your cheeks. 

“Hey buddy, don’t apologize for that. There is nothing to apologizing for, I am way too curious for my own good as well and I need to make sure that you’re happy in your relationship, especially when it comes to the point if they are able to fulfill your sexual desires. I need to know that, believe me. Okay, there’s one thing... I knew you were submissive, my dude. But I didn’t expect that you’d be such a masochistic hoe and that you’d have such a thing for degradation, Jesus! Nevermind, more important: did you talked with them about that fantasy? Would they be down for this idea and would they like to be more in charge? Please do not tell me that you’re too shy to talk with them about it, not again! I tell you this every goddamn time, communication is key!”, your best friend says to you in a serious tone. 

Here you go again, getting scolded by your friend all over again. He is right, you know that... y’all already talked about ‘how to deal with certain kinks some of them or you have but the others aren’t into and how to not make them feel bad or insecure about it’ several times, you tend to overthink everything you have ever said to them all over again. You are always so flustered when seven pairs of eyes are looking at you, waiting for an answer. You are tall, even taller than Namjoon, but under their curious stares you feel always so small, fiddling with your fingers around like a little schoolboy. You love that about them, putting you into such a submissive place just with their aura and charisma and giving you the feeling as if they overtower you physically too. 

“I can absolutely agree with Y/BF/N, communication is key. Why didn’t you told us those nasty fantasies you have in your cute head up here, right away? Too shy again? Do we really need to call your best friend the next time to get some hints to your secret kinks, Babyboy?”, Taehyung rasps into your earshell and wraps his arms around you. He chuckles slightly as you squeak high-pitched in surprise. 

An equal surprised yelp of your best friend comes out of the speaker of your phone which takes Yoongi out of your hand and excuse you with the apology that ‘they need to have an important talk with you now and that you have to hang up unfortunately’. 

The display of your phone turns dark and Yoongi puts it on the surface of the kitchen island before he flashes you a dirty smile. That you’re mortified that they caught you spilling all those filthy fantasies to your best friend is the understatement of the century. Never and you mean never did you hoped so bad that the floor opens up and swallows you whole, saving you from this embarrassing misery. But Yoongi give you much time to drown in shame, coming up to you and connect your lips to a rough kiss. 

“God, I love it when our so sweet and shy Baby has such nasty and indecent fantasies in his head... why don’t you tell us these ideas in every single filthy detail once again? I think we could turn the information into some very good use, big boy~”, whispers the smaller one with blown-out eyes against your lips.

“...or would you prefer that we call you a needy cumslut, hm? The things I’ve heard give me the assumption that you want to get fucked stupid and pumped full with cum as if you are our personal playtoy?”, growls Jungkook and grabs himself a handful of your right asscheek, kneading it with a firm grip in his big palm. 

“Come on, big boy, admit that you want exactly the things Jungkook just said... I can feel how fucking hard you just got from his words... already so hard and swollen against my palm even though we barely touched you. You’re truly such a pathetic, needy slut... I bet you’d already cum in your pants if we just tease you enough... Am I right?”, chuckles Namjoon in his deep, arousal soaked timbre against your neck, nibbling at the sensitive spot of your Adam’s apple. 

“...what about we change our location to the bedroom and talk about the things you’ve said to Y/BF/N? Maybe we could try some of your newest kinks out? Would you like the thought of us watching you from the couch while you prepare your needy asshole for us? Showing us how you stuff you clenching rim with a girthy dildo? Wearing a cockring so you couldn’t cum without our permission? Prepping yourself all messy, whining for our finger, tongues and dicks in your ass like the greedy slut you are? Yeah, you’d love that thought.”, Seokjin teases you mercilessly, rolling your sensitive balls in his palm, just how you like it.  “Y-Yes, Daddies... I’d love to be a greedy cumslut for you... please turn me into one!”, you wisper. 

@cys-mental-escapades​; @bangtanloverboys​; @btsxmalereaders​

[imagine-a-life-like-this]

Confession Tapes (K.SM)

Warnings : none that i can think of? 

Word Count : 1527

Synopsis : her best friend handed her a box containing three tapes as her birthday present. confused at first, she sat beside him, watching the videos he had filmed over the last few months, each one ending with a confession. 

“Happy birthday.” Seungmin smiled as he handed me a box, my face filled with confusion when I saw it was filled with discs labeled with numbers. “You asked why I always had a camera. This is why.” He grabbed the first one and walked to my DVD player to get it set up. I placed the box on the coffee table and took a seat on the couch.

 Tape #1

         “Why are you filming, Minnie?” I asked as Seungmin pulled out a camera, aiming it right at me.

           “You’ll find out one day.” He cheesed from behind the camera. He’s always been a bit weird, so I didn’t think too much of it and just carried on setting up the BBQ.

           “Y/N! Seungmin!” I turned when I heard Chan’s voice, just in time for him to wrap his arms around me in a big hug. “Hey Seungmin, why do you got a camera?” I giggled to myself as Chan turned to question the younger boy, while I continued setting the tables in my backyard.

           “It’s a secret.” Chan shrugged at this answer, not bothering to push it any further. Slowly, the rest of our friend group showed up, some offering to help and some questioning Seungmin about his camera, that I’ve noticed was mostly filming me.

           Soon, Chan was at the BBQ cooking the burgers and hotdogs while the rest of us sat around the tables I set up, telling stories, and laughing. Seungmin at the end, filming everyone as the evening progressed. I sipped on my wine as I listened to the stories everyone was sharing, enjoying the free entertainment.

           As the evening came to an end and our friends began to leave, I found Seungmin filming me as I cleaned up. “Is there a reason you’re filming me right now?” I giggled, too shy to look into the camera.

           “Because you’re beautiful and deserve to be on camera.” I felt my face flush at the compliment and I playfully pushed him away.

           “Don’t lie to me.” I giggled, continuing to clean the mess everyone left behind.

           “I would never.” I looked up at him to see he was already looking at me, the biggest smile on his face.

           “I had known for a while that I liked you, but it was this night that I realized I loved you.” Seungmin’s face came on screen as the memory faded to black. “I’m not sure what it was, but I just remember looking at you and feeling complete, like I didn’t need anything else in life if I had you.” My heart was pounding in my chest, and I turned to Seungmin who was already getting up and putting in the next DVD.

           “Seungmin…” He shook his head.

           “Please don’t say anything until the end.”

           Tape #2

         Once again, Seungmin was filming me as I drove us to the beach. It was a tradition we’ve kept up with for many years now, and this year we agreed to allow our other friends to join in. They drove behind us, following closely so they didn’t lose us as we drove to our regular place. “Again?” I asked, glancing over at him quickly with a small smile on my face.

           “Just let me do this. You’ll understand one day.” I just shook my head, not bothering with the questions anymore.

           “Oh Seungmin’s got his camera out again!” Jisung yelled as we were all piling out of our cars. Seungmin didn’t even turn to film the others, keep the camera completely focused on me.

           “Filming Y/N again?” Hyunjin asked, throwing an arm across his shoulders, which Seungmin quickly shrugged off. “Why don’t you love us like you love her?” He teased, poking Seungmin’s cheek with a cute pout on his face.

           “Because you’re not pretty like she is, ugly.” Seungmin teased back, the camera still purely focused on me.

           “Oh does Seungminnie have a crush?” Minho joined in the teasing, resting an arm on my shoulder, and looking between the two of us. “Honestly when you first introduced us to her, I thought she was your girlfriend.”

           “Yah, quit teasing.” I said, brushing Minho’s arm off me and watched as he shrugged. “We’re just really close.” Though a part of me always wondered what it would be like if we were dating. I’d never make the move, too scared to ruin a good thing. Seungmin says all these cute things now, and flirts with me, but what would happen if I made the move and we crossed the boundary from friendship to relationship?

           Just like boyfriends in the past, he’d soon get bored and move on, falling out of love with me just as fast as he fell in love. I’d lose not only a boyfriend, but my best friend, my better half. “You good? The guys were just teasing, don’t take it to heart.” Felix whispered, draping an arm across my shoulders. I noticed then that the others had made their way to the beach, while Seungmin still stood in front of me with the camera. “Let’s enjoy the nice day!” Felix exclaimed, practically dragging me towards the beach, Seungmin following close behind.

           “Honestly, I knew the guys thought you were my girlfriend, and I was okay letting them think that. I didn’t want you to fall for one of them and watch you slip through my fingers.”

           Tape #3

         Seungmin and I decided to take a small vacation to Jeju, just the two of us. As much as we love having the other guys around, it feels as if it’s been forever since the two of us spent time together.

           Going to Jeju is something we used to do with our families when we were kids, so we thought it would be perfect for just the two of us. “Morning Sleeping Beauty.” Seungmin teased, the camera filming me already. I jokingly put my hand over the lens.

           “Going to have to put a warning on this one.” I joked. “Not safe for anyone. Ugly ahead, proceed with caution.” He swatted my hand away and filmed as we walked through the airport, some people in the background looking at us, wondering why he was filming me.

           “There’s no way you could ever be ugly.” He smiled and pinched my cheek with the hand not holding the camera. “Not in my eyes anyway.”

           “Maybe you should get them checked.” I’ve gotten used to his shameless flirting, but my heart still picks up pace every time. I’ve gotten better at hiding how much it effects me, how I hope it’s more than friendly banter.

           “I did. Got them rose tinted glasses.” I lightly pushed his shoulder at the cheesy line.

           The rest of the tape was different recordings from our time in Jeju, edited similar to a drama. A few times, he had handed his camera off to someone so they could film cute moments between the two of us, and we looked so much like a couple. I remember so many people asked how long we’d been together. Neither one of us ever denied the assumptions though, just blushing at the question.

           “I think you’re always beautiful, but during this trip, you looked to ethereal to me. It was during this trip that I knew I couldn’t wait much longer. Every part of me wanted to kiss you every night we watched the sunset, but I held back. I’m giving you my entire heart, whether you accept it or not, and I don’t want it back. It’s yours, Y/N.” The tape faded to black, and Seungmin stayed seated on the couch beside me.

           Silence surrounded us as I let everything sink in. My best friend has been in love with me for years. A part of me is scared to accept, scared to lose him. But another part of me is screaming at me to kiss him, accept his heart. It’s always been Kim Seungmin, and I know it will always be Kim Seungmin.

           I don’t want to watch him fall in love with anyone else. I want to wake up to his face, pepper his face in kisses as we slowly make our way out of bed. I want to cook with him, no matter how many mistakes we make, and how many times we almost burn the house down. I want to walk down the street holding his hand, show off our love to anyone who will watch. I want his good days, when he’s smiling and full of energy, teasing the boys and playing pranks. I want his bad days when he’s quiet, reading a book and ignoring everyone but me. I want lazy days in where we don’t leave the bed except to answer the door for the food we ordered. I want the exciting days out where we try new things and go to new places.

           I want Kim Seungmin.

           “I accept.” I whisper after some time, causing his head to turn towards me with such speed I’m surprised he didn’t get whiplash. “Only if you take my heart in return.”

           “I’ll never break it.”

           “I love you, Kim Seungmin.”

           “I’ll always love you more.”

[luckhound]

— heavy burdens.

pairing.  kaeya/gender neutral reader

genre.  angst

description.  on an important anniversary, kaeya gets drunk off his ass, bonds with a fellow captain, and realizes some burdens can’t ever be set back down.

warnings.  spoilers for kaeya and diluc’s character stories. mentions of alcohol and a character (kaeya) being under the influence.

note.  four months later and i’ve finally finished this fic after writing it on and off for that whole time mskfjdks a big thank you to sierra, miya, and grace for reading over the previous drafts of this and giving me their honest thoughts, love you ladies <3

He hadn’t expected to get shitfaced when he had first stepped foot in the tavern. Honest.

His plan for the evening was as follows: Go to Angel’s Share, chat with patrons, share some laughs, learn some secrets, and see where the night goes. Only the information he gleaned would tell how it ended; with him stumbling back to his quarters for a night’s rest, or ruminating on how to dismantle schemes that enemies of Mondstadt were concocting in the shadows.

So, the usual. Nothing too noteworthy.

Then he happened to overhear a conversation on the way there.

The two civilians spoke in low, somber tones about how it has been exactly one year since Master Crepus’s death and his son Diluc’s subsequent departure from Mondstadt. How terrible, they mused as they shook their heads, that the new winery master hasn’t been heard from since. He must still be in mourning over his father.

Kaeya nearly stopped in the middle of the crowded street. Was today really the one-year anniversary of Master Crepus’s death? How had it managed to slip his mind? He’s been busy lately with a promising lead, true, but to think that he would forget...

Which, long story cut ruthlessly short, leads him to where he is now. Tuning out his tumultuous thoughts with the help of alcohol and secrets.

Upon entering the tavern to raucous cheers, he had flitted from table to table like the social butterfly he's purported to be. The usual suspects greeted him with varying levels of warmth, inviting him to sit and keep them company. Stable hands and bandits alike shared a drink with him, words spilling from their lips like the fine wine they supped on.

After some time, though, he grew tired of their monotonous days and banal gripes. So he retreated to the bar counter. As he nursed a Death After Noon, he kept an ear out, listening carefully even as he chatted with Charles between customers.

Unfortunately, he hasn’t heard anything juicy yet. So and so is complaining about his wife, while someone else is haranguing her boss, and another is celebrating their birthday. Dull and uninteresting.

Can you blame him for getting so deep in his cups? There’s nothing else to do on such a slow night.

“So this is where you decided to hide out. Colour me surprised.”

Kaeya notes the shadow falling over the counter moments before a familiar drawl reaches his ears. He tilts his head up, blinking furiously when his vision blurs. The drinks he's downed thus far—how many has it been? He lost count after five, how unlike him—have certainly reached his bloodstream.

You stand beside his stool, your lips thinned into an unimpressed line. Despite how inebriated he is, the relevant information he has on you flashes through his mind. A Knight of Favonius. Captain of the Intelligence Team. Once a company grade officer, then sergeant, lieutenant, before ascending to captain upon the retirement of your superior.

As admired as he is by most of Mondstadt, you’re among the minority who are far from his biggest fans. For good reason, he supposes. During your first meeting, he had congratulated you on your promotion, before going on to flippantly insult your old captain. You’ve hated him ever since.

Which is why he’s puzzled by you approaching him first—outside of headquarters, at that. Such a phenomenon is rare, like catching a crystalfly in your hands.

“Captain! Fancy seeing you here,” he greets, adopting a jovial tone. Then your words register in his addled mind. “‘Hide out’, you said? Whatever would I do that for?”

You prop a hand on your hip. “You didn’t make an appearance at the meeting today. Needless to say, the Dandelion Knight isn’t too impressed with you at the moment.” You appraise him, looking underwhelmed by what you see. Ouch. “Strange. You don’t seem terribly ill to me.”

Ah. That. Kaeya had wanted to investigate some curious rumours he’d heard around the city, so he made up a flimsy excuse to dodge the captain’s meeting held this morning. Grand Master Varka likely hadn’t batted an eye over it, but not Jean. She’ll have concerns.

He hums noncommittally. The thought of annoying his oldest ally never fails to bring a smirk to his lips, but he isn’t quite in the mood right now. “Is that so. You must be here to sternly tell me to clean up my act then.”

You scoff. “Surely you don’t need a second babysitter. No, I’m off-duty, so I’m here for the same reason everyone else is: to drink.”

“Hear, hear.” He lifts his tankard as if to toast to you, but the sudden momentum causes him to sway dangerously in his seat.

“Careful!” Eyes widening in alarm, you reach out to steady him. “Geez, Alberich. How many drinks have you had?”

The palm of your hand is warm where it sits on his shoulder; he can tell that even with his furs in the way. He almost leans into the touch but catches himself at the last second. How mortifying. He can just picture your horrified reaction to him drunkenly nuzzling up against you.

Almost falling off his seat in a crowded tavern, instinctively seeking out your slightest touch... He needs to get a hold of himself. Or find a way to halt the conversation here, so he can resume drinking by his lonesome.

“Not nearly enough,” he answers airily, leaning an elbow on the bar counter. You drop your hand to your side; he makes a point to not stare at it as you do. “Where’s your entourage? I’m surprised they aren't following dutifully behind you.”

“They’re my subordinates, not my entourage.” You shift awkwardly. “And they aren’t here. It may surprise you, but they have lives outside of the Intelligence Team. They can enjoy one evening without their captain breathing down their necks.”

He eyes you in amusement. “In that case, you should join me. I would welcome the company.” He finishes off his tankard, then motions to Charles for another drink. The bartender doesn’t even ask which one as he takes the pewter mug. He knows him well by now, after all.

Kaeya expects you to turn him down and find a seat elsewhere. Usually, such an invitation is enough to send you running for the hills. You lean a hip against the counter instead, as if settling in. “If I am not mistaken, you’re needed at headquarters tomorrow. I strongly advise you to call it a night, Captain.”

“Aww, are you worried about me, Captain?” He manages a grin at the scowl his reply elicits. “Don’t be. It won’t be the first time I stumble into work hungover. Certainly won’t be the last either.”

“How reassuring,” you say dryly.

“I aim to please.”

He perks up when Charles returns with a full tankard. The delectable taste of Death After Noon still sits on his tongue, warm and heady. He very much wants to experience it again. When he lifts the mug to his mouth, however, he misses the rim. He steadies the tankard before it empties itself onto his lap, but some of the wine drips down his chin, ruining his vest.

Thank goodness he isn’t drinking red wine. Every adult in Mondstadt knows red wine stains are notoriously difficult to clean. Still, what a waste of a perfectly good sip.

“Oh, for Barbatos’s sake.” That’s all the warning he gets before his drink is rudely snatched from his hand. He protests but can only watch helplessly as you bring it to your lips.

Then you proceed to down it.

His brows raise higher and higher the longer your throat bobs. He's never seen you drink with such gusto before. Shouldn’t you be gasping for breath by now? But no, you empty the tankard in a single go, then slam it on the counter (Charles makes a face, but wisely says nothing) and meet his gaze without flinching.

Wow, is all that his intoxicated mind can conjure up at the feat.

“There, all done. Now let’s go. I am walking you back.” Your voice is firm, brooking no argument. How captain-like of you. “Wouldn’t want Mondstadt’s illustrious Cavalry Captain to be found passed out in an alleyway tomorrow.”

On any other day, he’d be mildly irked by your stubbornness. But he did just spill his drink down his front like a newborn babe. No wonder you brought up his rank. In your eyes, his conduct must not befit that of a high-ranking knight. He doesn’t care what assumptions people form about him, never has, but tonight has been a bust anyway. Maybe it's best to call it quits.

Sighing theatrically, he rises to his feet. “All right, I know when I have been beaten. But don’t change your plans on my account. I can head to the barracks by myself just fine.”

“I’m sure you can,” you say, “but letting you walk alone this late in your state would grate at my conscience. So would you stop talking for once, and let me take you home?”

You get what you want. Your words render him silent.

Home, you called the barracks. He supposes you consider that place your home. But is it his, truly?

He thinks of Khaenri’ah, nothing but a distant, bloody memory. He thinks of his father, and how in their final moments together, the man had stared through him like he wasn’t there. He thinks of the Dawn Winery, where he had spent several years causing mayhem. He thinks of Master Crepus, never dad, and a brother who doesn’t exist anymore.

No, the barracks aren’t his home. Maybe he’s never had one to begin with.

When he comes to, Kaeya registers you leading him in the direction of the tavern door, your hand on his shoulder blade. This quickly catches the attention of the patrons. They call out their goodbyes, some raising their tankards and others chuckling good-naturedly.

“Look at that! Our Cavalry Cap’n had too much to drink, eh?”

“What, are you tapping out already, Captain Kaeya?”

“Has to be escorted out by a fellow knight, no less!”

You wave over your shoulder. “Just doing my patriotic duty, that's all.”

Kaeya gives his audience an exaggerated wink (as well as he can with his one uncovered eye) followed by a lazy hand salute. His grin remains fixed in place until the door swings shut. The wooden barrier barely muffles the sounds of conversation and merriment coming from within.

Had it been that loud while he was inside? He hadn’t noticed.

He isn’t able to dwell on it for long, because you nudge him in the direction of headquarters. “Come on. We have a bit of a walk ahead of us. Let’s get to it.”

“Oh, very well. But only because you asked so nicely.”

“I wasn’t asking.”

“I know. I was being sarcastic.”

You nudge him harder, and he snickers under his breath as he walks.

This time of night, the cobblestone streets seem devoid of life. With the exception of Patton, who’s practically asleep standing up, the two of you don’t run into anyone. It's a stark change from how the city usually is, bright and bustling with crowds.

It suits him just fine, though. The crisp night air is sobering him up somewhat, the fog that had settled over his mind thinning. All too soon, he recalls everything he was trying to suppress.

Master Crepus. Diluc. His callousness and cruelty in forgetting them both.

In hindsight, he should have taken his mug back from you instead of just gaping like a fool. Sobriety is such a drag.

“You’re quiet,” you comment. You’re staring at him intently, your expression eerily similar to Timaeus’s when he is observing an alchemical reaction. It’s as if he is a specimen that you are keen on studying under a microscope.

He wants to scowl, to snap at you. “My apologies,” he says instead, as innocent as can be. “Were you waiting for me to strike up a conversation? Hold on a moment, let me think of a good topic...”

“That is not what I meant and you know it. It’s just, usually it’s impossible to get you to stop talking. The times I have seen you...indisposed”—buzzed as a bee, you undoubtedly mean—“that doesn’t change. You talk more, if anything.”

Curiously, your voice softens, an odd cadence colouring it. One he has not heard from you before, not directed at him at least. “I guess I’m just wondering if something is weighing on your mind. Is that what prompted you to drink so much tonight?”

By now, the two of you have walked down the stairway to the Knights of Favonius’s bulletin board. Of course, Hertha isn’t there this late to assign requests and bounties. The pieces of parchment pinned to the board flutter in the breeze. He stares at the sketch of a Ruin Guard, willing his sluggish mind to craft a suitable answer.

After a beat, his eye slides over to you. An impish grin curls at the corners of his mouth. “My, I had no idea that you watched my every move so closely. I’m flattered by the attention.”

Predictably, you sputter. “What even—that is not—you know what, if you want to dodge the question so badly, fine. We can just walk the rest of the way in silence.”

“As you wish, Captain.”

Although his words were said to fluster you into changing the subject, as you had correctly deduced, Kaeya means them. You have noticed him far more than he realized. As Captain of the Intelligence Team, it’s your job to be observant and keep tabs on others. He knows that. Still, it’s disconcerting to learn that you’ve had a close eye on him in particular.

He operates from the shadows for a reason; he can’t have you jeopardizing that by shining a light on him. Five months into your new position, and already you have proven yourself to be dangerous.

As you wished for, silence reigns as the two of you turn into an alley and approach two flights of stairs, leading to the center of the city. Kaeya resists pressing a hand against the nearest wall for balance. He had walked down a stairway unaided just moments ago, despite how unsteady he felt. Surely ascending some steps would prove to be easier.

Rather than focus on his feet, he looks up ahead. From his position, he can just barely glimpse the blades of a windmill, ever-turning against the dark backdrop of the night sky. He keeps his gaze there as he climbs, his boots scraping against stone.

He clears the first flight of stairs with little issue. See? Nothing to it.

Halfway up the second, Kaeya stumbles.

His surroundings tilt, blurring as he fumbles for balance. It’s a futile effort. Thanks to how inebriated he is, his limbs are too heavy and uncoordinated. The stone below rushes up to meet him.

Before his face can greet it, however, you catch him.

Your side moulds against his, a hand clasping his hip while the other carefully grasps at his spiked pauldron. His gloved hand covers yours reflexively as his racing heartbeat settles. He feels you stiffen at the touch, but you don't pull away. Neither does he.

For a moment, not a word is spoken between you both. The alley is filled only with the soft sound of breathing.

Then you click your tongue. “So much for heading back by yourself. You can barely keep your feet under you.” Your voice lilts with humour.

He knows this song and dance. It has been ingrained in him after all these months. You snark at him, he snarks back. Rinse and repeat. Although this is the first time he has heard levity in your tone; the first time it has been aimed at him, that is. He almost hadn’t thought you capable of it.

He straightens with a chuckle. “First at the tavern, and now in an alley. I just keep falling for you tonight, don’t I?”

You blink owlishly. It takes a moment for the words to sink in. Then a flustered expression crosses your features, before you compose yourself. “You are unbelievable.”

He grins. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

You roll your eyes, even as the corners of your lips twitch. “You would.”

Kaeya expects you to move away, so the two of you can resume walking, but you don’t. “Not that I mind having your hands on me, but...will you be letting go any time soon?”

“That depends.” A challenging glint appears in your eye. “Can you handle walking on your own? Or do you need me to cradle you the rest of the way to headquarters, like some damsel?”

He guffaws, taken off-guard by the retort. A reply escapes his loosened tongue before he can think better of it, “Archons, that sounded just like him.”

“Like who?”

“My brother.”

In the past, despite being underage, he was sometimes able to charm bartenders at Angel’s Share—new hires unaware of how to deal with him as of yet—into serving him drinks. Diluc would find him eventually, a disapproving twist to his mouth, and put a stop to it.

Back then, Kaeya was a lightweight and had to be supported back to headquarters. Diluc would scowl and roll his eyes the entire way, but there was still a softness in his gaze. His hands were strong, but careful; Kaeya knew that his brother would not let him fall. He could even be persuaded to join in when Kaeya began to sing, their off-key voices disturbing the silence of the night.

Come morning, while Kaeya nursed the inevitable headache and Jean nagged him about violating the Knights of Favonius Handbook, Diluc would snort. “Serves you right,” he’d say, then hand him a draught for curing hangovers.

Now Kaeya must weather the pain alone.

You tilt your head to the side, your gaze fixed on his. “I had no idea that you have a brother,” you say softly.

Had, he nearly corrects. But he has told you too much already.

This is why he is so careful when drinking in the company of others. Alcohol is a double-edged sword; as delectable as it is, it also loosens inhibitions. It’s what he relies on when charming information out of allies and adversaries alike, none of them the wiser of what they have given up.

How the tables have turned.

“Well, now you do.” A trace of bitterness enters his tone.

You eye him, quiet, before pulling back. You motion forward with your chin. “Let’s keep moving. We’ll never make it to headquarters at this pace.”

Relieved by the subject change, he listens. He makes a conscious effort to place one foot in front of the other, gaze trained on the remaining steps below. You stay at his side, closer than you were before. He can feel your hand hovering at the small of his back, ready to catch him should he trip once more, but he ignores it.

It won’t happen again. He’ll make sure of it.

The alley opens up to a view of the market district. Unfortunately, he doesn’t have long to enjoy the reprieve. The two of you turn right, away from the railing overlooking the main square, to climb two more flights of stairs. A left, and more stairways await.

By the time the Knights of Favonius Headquarters looms above you, Kaeya’s legs ache from the walk. He is very much looking forward to retiring to his quarters.

The knights stationed outside stiffen at the sight of you and Kaeya, standing at attention. They perform a salute in perfect unison. Do they rehearse that before every shift? Surely they must.

The guard on the left, with the glasses and unfortunate haircut, chirps, “Good evening, Captains! I hope you are doing well.” He appears wide awake despite the late hour.

At least the one on the right looks appropriately haggard. “Welcome back,” he grunts.

While Kaeya brushes past them with a nod of acknowledgement, eager to head inside, you stop. “Good evening, Athos, Porthos. Your shift ends soon, I hope? It can’t be terribly interesting, standing watch outside headquarters so late.”

“It’s no trouble at all, Captain!” Athos, as you had referred to him, says. “Guard duty may not be glamorous, but it is still important.”

“Much as I agree with the lad, I can’t bring myself to be so damn cheerful about it,” Porthos sighs, his words tinged with self-deprecation. “Must be ‘cause of these old bones.”

“That’s not true, Sir Porthos. Your bones aren’t that old!” the younger knight argues, prompting the older to shake his head with a chuckle.

“Athos isn’t wrong,” you add. “You are far more sprightly than most knights I know.”

“If that’s true, then Mondstadt is in trouble.”

Smiling and shaking your head, you finally pass by them, climbing the short steps to return to Kaeya's side. He lifts a brow as he pulls on one of the large oak doors, holding it open for you.

It’s almost comical how quickly your smile disappears. Your eyes narrow as you enter inside. “What’s that look for?”

“Nothing,” he says breezily, following after you. The door falls closed behind you both with a loud, echoing thud. “Just that I didn’t know you were so chummy with the guards.”

It is blindingly bright inside the Knights of Favonius Headquarters, as if it isn’t nearing midnight. The sconces on the walls are lit up, as is the chandelier hanging in the center of the main hall. The two of you make your way towards the—joy of all joys—staircase. The barracks for knights are located on the second floor, and on the floor above that, separate quarters for the captains.

“I am off-duty right now. It’s not unprofessional for me to speak informally with them.”

His eye widens. “Why, I never said it was unprofessional, Captain.”

You grind your teeth so hard he can practically hear the enamel wearing away. “You implied it.” No, he didn’t. Your distaste for him has you imagining mockery where there is none. As if Kaeya has any room to judge someone for acting unprofessional.

“I did? That’s news to me.” Privately, he marvels at how easily he can agitate you. Him, no one else—he has observed you long enough to know your prickliness is reserved for him alone. Maybe that’s why he annoys you further instead of clearing up the many miscommunications that tend to occur. Not that you’ll believe him, even if he’s being completely honest.

You huff. “How the Dandelion Knight manages to put up with you, I’ll never know,” you mutter.

“How rude, Captain! Jean doesn’t put up with me, she considers me indispensable.”

You cut a look at him. “Yes, I’m sure she thought the same when you failed to show up to today’s meeting.”

“Must you bring that up again? I shudder just thinking of the lecture she’ll have ready for me in the morning. Perhaps my mysterious ailment should plague me for a little while longer...”

“Prolonging the inevitable will do you no favours.” You pause briefly, then add, “Ah, I almost forgot to mention. After the meeting, I ran into Inspector Eroch. He was waiting outside and asked after you. He seemed irked when I informed him that you were absent today.”

If Kaeya was not so skilled at masking his reactions, he would’ve perked up at that. He might have even stopped in his tracks or whipped his head around to look at you. But he knows better than to give himself away so obviously. He leisurely climbs the steps, his features revealing only vague interest. “Oh? Somehow I doubt he was upset out of concern for my wellbeing.”

You glance over. “I wouldn’t know. He did not say anything when I asked why he wanted to see you, or if I could pass on a message. He just brushed me off and left.”

“Don’t be hurt by his shameful conduct, Captain. I for one enjoy your company immensely.”

You ignore his thoughtful statement. “I thought that he might have had a prior engagement with you, which you missed due to being terribly ill.”

He shrugs. “If we did, I don’t recall it.”

That earns him another look, longer than the one before. He doesn’t flinch away from it, his expression remaining serene. Privately, he wonders what you know. Are you merely intrigued by what Inspector Eroch might want with him? Or are you more aware than you’re letting on?

After all, Eroch is the one Kaeya has been secretly investigating for the past year.

Looks like the inspector has caught on. About time. No doubt he wants to figure out just how much Kaeya knows—which is not much, unfortunately. He knows that Eroch has more than just Mondstadt’s best interests in mind; a Fatui spy like him would have just the opposite. But he is unsure what the man is up to, or who he even is.

He does, however, have an inkling. Several, even.

Inspector Eroch had been insistent on covering up the details of Master Crepus’s death. For the good of Mondstadt, he claimed, not wanting the citizenry to lose faith in the Knights of Favonius. Grand Master Varka had ultimately sided with him. It resulted in Diluc resigning his position and leaving the city a year ago.

Kaeya had kept an eye on the inspector after that. He knew there was more to the situation than just preserving Mondstadt’s trust in the Knights, and it had everything to do with the dangerous and evil power Master Crepus had harnessed. It was only a matter of figuring out what. And once he has all of the information...

Well, he knows what Diluc would do, once upon a time. Blazing with righteous fury, he’d take his findings to Grand Master Varka, insisting on Eroch’s arrest and expulsion from the Knights of Favonius. He would see it as retribution for how poorly his father’s death had been handled.

But Kaeya suffers from no delusions. Maybe he looked into Eroch because of Master Crepus. Maybe he wanted some kind of revenge for what happened. Maybe he yearned to atone for his past inaction. None of that means he has any heroic intentions.

If it serves his interests better, he won’t expose the inspector immediately. He will hoard his knowledge instead, keeping his cards close to his chest until it’s the right time to play them.

That is how he has always operated. Master Crepus's death and Diluc's departure have not changed that. For a brief, nonsensical moment, he wishes they had. Then common sense returns to him. A foolhardy sense of justice is of no use to him. He’ll leave that to Diluc.

While he extricates himself from his wayward thoughts, you turn away to clear the last few steps. “If it is important, surely he will try to approach you again,” you say.

“I look forward to it with bated breath.”

You scoff, rightfully skeptical, but don’t respond. Clearly, you are content to leave it at that.

He wonders at how easily you let the subject drop. Had you suspected something, you would have pushed to learn more, wouldn’t you? Now is as opportune a time as any; it’s late, he’s tired and drunk, and the both of you are alone. Does that make you oblivious, or an idiot, or crafty?

Having made it to the third floor, the two of you make your way down the hallway. His quarters are before your own, three doors on the left. He stops in front of his door, reaching into one of many hidden coat pockets to produce his key.

He glances at you. You have yet to leave for own your room. “You don’t have to hover at my side, you know,” he says with a touch of amusement. “I may be tipsy, but I am no longer in any danger of being harassed by ruffians or passing out in the streets. Unless you're secretly harbouring nefarious intentions towards me, Captain.”

“You’ll just have to wait and find out,” is your unruffled response.

Chuckling under his breath, he unlocks his door and lets it swing open wide. It’s dark inside, faint moonlight shining through the small window above his desk. Coupled with the sconces out in the hallway, however, there is enough light for him to stumble to his bedside without stubbing a single toe. He doesn’t bother to close the door on you; he has nothing to hide.

Kaeya knows what his quarters must look like to a stranger. They’re a mess, as if someone had searched them in a haste and not bothered to clean up afterward. The walls are bare, save for a map of Mondstadt that he’d hung up ages ago. Tomes of all sizes and loose leaves of parchment litter his oak desk, pushed up against a wall. A quill lies abandoned atop a half-finished note with ink drying on its nib. His closet door is cracked open, a discarded boot dissuading anyone from forcing it shut.

Yes, his quarters are a mess. But he knows exactly where everything is. Should someone actually attempt to search his things, he would know immediately. Not that they would find anything particularly damning. He isn’t foolish enough to leave important documents or sensitive information lying about—nothing he is unwilling to part with, anyway.

“Horrifying, but unsurprising,” he hears you mutter to yourself.

Kaeya doesn’t even consider slipping out of his ruined clothes or engaging you in further conversation. Now that he has made it back to his quarters, all he can think about is the sweet embrace of sleep. He sinks into his unmade bed, draping an arm over his face.

You continue to linger in the doorway. “You should change before you fall asleep.”

“Mhm.”

“You'll regret not doing so in the morning.”

“Uh-huh.” He still doesn’t move.

“Alberich. You stink of booze.”

“You sure know how to compliment a guy, Captain. I’m impressed.”

You sigh, long and loud. He waits to hear the door close behind you, only for you to walk up to his bedside. Your steps are slow, hesitant yet purposeful. He stiffens, immediately on-guard, but fights his instincts in order to remain still. What are you planning?

He feels you grip his boot. Metal jingles as you undo the buckle. Then you pry it off.

He lifts his arm to peer up at you. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like?” You set his boot on the ground, then move on to the other one. “If you won’t change, you should at least take off your shoes. You’ll dirty your sheets otherwise.”

Oh, you make it so easy for him to twist everything you say into an innuendo. For once he resists the urge. “You forgot something,” he says instead. He wiggles his sock-clad foot at you. Just to see if you will do it.

You grimace, swatting his leg away. “Absolutely not. I don’t want to be anywhere near those.”

So you say. But you’re taking his boots off for him out of your own volition. There is no need for you to do any of this. It’s not your duty to stop him from drinking himself into a stupor, or walk him back to headquarters unharmed, or all but tuck him into bed. Yet here you are.

What is it that you want? There have been plenty of opportunities for you to try and take advantage of his drunken state, but you have sidestepped every one. Frustration brews in his sternum.

“Do you do this for everyone who you hate?” he finds himself asking, tone purposely lighthearted.

You pause in your ministrations to stare at him. “What? I don't hate you.” At his disbelieving look, you insist, “I don’t. You have always been a pain to deal with, sure, but I never once felt that way.”

He smiles, unconvinced. “Not even when I insulted your dear old captain?”

“Insulted my... That was months ago, when we first met.” Despite your bewilderment, you take a moment to contemplate his question. “I was upset with you, yes. But now that I’ve had this position for some time...maybe your assessment wasn’t off. When I was lieutenant, I didn’t always see eye-to-eye with my captain. They were too set in their ways and scorned most criticism. I respected them, and still do, but I shouldn’t be ignorant of their faults.”

Your gaze meets his once more. “In a way, what you said that day led me to realize that. You weren’t badmouthing my captain; you didn’t have a vendetta or want to get a rise out of me. At least, I don’t think you did. You must have legitimate issues with their leadership, as a captain yourself.”

He watches you shrewdly. Your tone was even, your expression clear. He cannot detect any deception from you. Of course, that means little. Still, perhaps you’re telling the truth. Perhaps you don’t hate him after all.

A headache, newly formed, pounds at his temple. If he were more sober, he would be better equipped to handle such a revelation. He’ll have to come to a proper conclusion later.

You fiddle with the buckle on his remaining boot. “And what about you?”

“Hmm? What about me?”

“You have ample reason to look down on me. Most of the knights know that you aren’t just Cavalry Captain and Quartermaster. Your role is more important than that. Surely you would make a better...” you trail off, your jaw working silently.

Kaeya knows how that sentence ends. Surely you would make a better Captain of the Intelligence Team than me. It doesn’t come as a surprise.

Up until now, he thought he knew you well. You made it no secret you loathed him. You have never said so explicitly, but he has a talent for reading people. It’s a classic case of envy. He has seen it many times before. You compare yourself to him and find yourself wanting. It colours the way you interact with him; your words brusque, your gaze narrowed.

Not only did he insult your captain, but you consider him more capable than you. Your hatred makes sense. It’s predictable.

Or so he believed, until tonight.

“You know what, never mind. Forget I asked.” Uh-oh. Seems he took too long to respond. You busy yourself with unbuckling his boot, avoiding his eye.

If he were to be honest, there are many ways he could answer you. He thinks you are a better captain than your superior could ever hope to have been. He thinks you are a leader capable of inspiring undying loyalty in your officers. He thinks you have a deep, unflinching love for Mondstadt and its people. He thinks you constantly push yourself to greater heights, to the point it lights a fire in him as well.

He admits to none of those things, in the end.

“Give yourself some credit, Captain,” he murmurs. You glance over in surprise. He meets your gaze. For perhaps the first time in a while, he hopes his words sound sincere—not because he doesn’t mean them, but because he does. “I know the officers under your supervision think you’re a good leader. They wouldn’t want anyone else to take your place.” Certainly not someone like me.

Instead of reassuring you, however, his answer seems to do the opposite. You look frustrated. “That isn’t what I...” you trail off. You search his features, silent, before your brow furrows. “I can’t tell if you mean what you just said. Sometimes I’m not sure I ever can.”

He takes care not to allow his features to visibly harden. Of course you would doubt him, the one time he tries to be honest with you. What else did he expect? Maybe you don't hate him, maybe you never have, but that means little. You won’t ever fully trust him. To be fair, the feeling is mutual.

His mouth tastes unbearably bitter. It must be the wine.

“At this point, I’m willing to say just about anything if it’ll mean I can get some shut-eye.” He feels no satisfaction upon seeing your shoulders stiffen. He still manages to grin. “Well, Captain? Any other requests?”

“No,” you say. Then you tug off his boot with a brisk motion.

He stifles a yelp. “Hey, now! No need to be so rough.”

“My sincere apologies.” You set the boot down next to his other one, your lips thinned. “I should go. Wouldn’t want you to lose more sleep than you already have. You have a long day ahead of you tomorrow, after all.”

Talk about vindictive. Despite his irritation, he has to fight a smile. Knowing you, you’ll see it and take it the wrong way, as you usually do.

Having finished removing his boots, you turn and walk for the door without another word.

He’s struck with the odd urge to stop you. To reach out, take your hand in his, and tug you back. Not because he wants something from you, or needs to tell you something. He wishes you would stay a little longer, that’s all. Wants the silence to be filled by your voice instead of his thoughts.

Now he knows he’s had too much to drink. He’s contemplating such ridiculous things.

Before his addled mind can catch up and he can say something, apologize perhaps, you shut the door behind you. Your footsteps travel down the hallway, slightly hurried. The door to your quarters creaks open then closed.

He’s too late. It’s for the best.

Kaeya lies back and stares up at the ceiling. His vision swims, as if he’s adrift at sea. Closing his eye only makes it worse.

His mind pores over the events of the day. Investigating Eroch, remembering Master Crepus and Diluc, visiting the tavern, running into you. He feels restless, pulled in several directions at once.

With a harsh exhale, he rises to his feet and locks his door. Then he begins his nightly ritual.

His pauldron is first to go. It hits the floor with a dull noise. Then he peels off his gloves and tosses them on the desk. The burns on his hands have long since healed, but he still deals with numbness now and then. Not many know they even exist; he doesn’t want anyone taking advantage of a potential weakness. His eyepatch follows closely after.

He removes the Cryo Vision from his belt last. He stares at it, its blue glow washing over his scarred palm and turning his skin a sickly brown hue. If it’s been a year since Master Crepus’s death, it has been about a year since he was gifted a Vision as well. The sight of it has been a hard reminder ever since. Of how he’d won a difficult battle. Of how he’d finally revealed the truth. Of how he can never speak it again.

He tucks the Vision under his pillow, then collapses back into bed. An odd sensation fills him, as it does every time he completes this ritual. It’s like he has taken off every scrap of armour he has and foolishly exposed himself to danger, despite being alone in the stillness of his quarters.

Ignoring the uncomfortable feeling, he closes his eyes and waits for sleep to take him under.

It never does.

[marvelmaniac2000]

Shang Chi x Reader Scenario #1 Part 2 Of 2 (Imagines)

PART 1

Storyline: Shang Chi knows you are a very attractive person and men are always admiring you. Even though you don’t pay any mind to it at all, sometimes it can become overbearing. Luckily your best friend is there to stray away unwanted advances.

(By the way, in this short story the relationship is mutual, but Shang Chi has always been in love with you. Also he’s super protective of you and gets jealous a lot.)

Characters: Shang Chi x reader

Subject warning: jealousy angst, mild violence, alcohol use

(Sorry in advance for any incorrect spelling or grammar) I'm trying to improve my proof reading skills.

“Get your fucking hands off me!” the man thrusted his other arm forward attempting to throw a punch. Shang Chi caught his fist with his hand and counter reacted with a powerful face punch. The poor sorry excuse of a man falls to the ground with a bloody nose.

He stomped the sole of his foot onto the man’s hand, making him ache in pain.

“ I’m going to give you mercy, but next time I see you around disrespecting women I will break every single bone in your hand”

“I think he got your point, we need to leave now” you quickly got up from your chair and pushed Shang Chi to get going. You glimpse at the man again and see him lying on the ground holding his busted nose. One part of you didn’t appreciate the attention Shang Chi draws in from sticking up for you, but nevertheless the satisfaction of seeing the person get their karma was the best part.

After departing from the bar to escape anyone from calling authorities, you guys settle in at your apartment that was close by.

“Sorry for ruining our outing again” he said reluctantly.

“It’s ok I appreciate it, sometimes I wish men weren’t such animals” you furrowed your brows. You removed your earrings and tossed them on your kitchen counter. Making your way to the fridge and take two wine coolers out since you guys didn’t get a chance to drink at the bar.

Shang Chi strolled around the living room and gazed at the outside balcony that you never use.

A sense of nostalgia hit Shang Chi remembering the moment he fell in love with you.

“Hey let’s sit out here” he cracked the sliding door open.

You didn’t really care and followed suit and met him outside. You handed him his drink and sat next to him on your cheap patio sofa you bought. The night sky was smoothly calm and the air was crisp. You watch the stars align enjoying the presence of a quiet city. Shang Chi casually stretched his arm out on top of the patio sofa but across the side you were sitting on. You leaned your head against his arm.

“You know not all men are animals?” he said.

“Yeah I know I just don’t have time to date and ninety percent of guys our age only want that one thing so if I have to be forty years old with cats then so be yet. I’m totally fine with that.” Shang Chi chuckled and shook his head.

“(Y/N) you are the most loving, and hard working girl I know. If the right guy doesn’t see that then he doesn’t deserve you. At first I thought I only loved you on a friendship level but I’ve come to realize you mean more to me than just a friend. I just never asked you out because I thought I was out of your league”

You hung onto every word he said and couldn’t help but realize you have friend zoned Shang Chi this whole time. But only from assumptions.

“I figured you always had girls in your back pocket because you are the whole package. You’re every girl’s dream so I figured you didn’t need a girlfriend, you had options which meant I threw that possibility of you out of my head a long time ago” you said disheartened.

You look into Shang Chi’s warm eyes that reflected the same emotions as yours.

“When I came here, I didn’t know anyone. I already felt alone, but that changed the day I meant you. You are the light that helped me out of the tunnel, and if something were to happen to you, I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself anymore. I have already made too many mistakes.” Shang Chi tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

This man will climb any mountain and beat any human being that will stand in your way. You couldn’t help feeling the instant attraction you suppressed years ago.

“Shang Chi I love you,” you confessed. He instantly kissed your lips and felt sparks fly between your heartbeat. You broke the kiss and admired the moonlight displaying his handsome face.

You caress his chisel cheek and smirked, “Well since we are official now that means more dates. So can you at least show me those killer moves you do? Where did you even learn that stuff?” You jokingly ask.

“That’s a story for another time” he smiled and rubbed his necklace.

[jianandjeonghu]

as not me is coming to an end, some notes bc i can’t sleep

i think it will be one of my favorite thai series. i love that it has a socially relevant plot beside the love stories. i love the change of outfits and scenery. i‘m interested in what thailand really looks like and this feels so much closer than all the series that are set in fancy universities, nice restaurants, luxury one-room student apartments, and expensive cars. a bit like 3wbf and itsay even though they don’t get out of the city.

sometimes the fandom ruined a bit for me. ppl can get too caught up in wanting a show represent all their values (and worse: ships, assumptions, fantasies...) and forget that this is a creative work by artists, directors, writers, who have their story to tell. remember that if you don’t like it, leave. many people are putting in hard work and you don’t even have to pay for it. and there’s not even anything seriously problematic happening (that isn’t criticized). yes i also didn’t like how everything with gram developed but that’s how it is and they must have had their reasons, let’s move on. don’t attack the creators.

generally i see so much room and potential for more background stories and really hope there will be a second season. so many questions are left and i don’t think one episode can answer all of them (it doesn’t have to but i’m curious :D).

what about gumpa’s connections? who are these people he gets his info from if the gang is already “leading” the movement? generally background everything on gumpa. note that todd didn’t even know of his existence even when he had clearly investigated everyone around black. and gumpa is clearly smarter than everyone, he recognized white straight away when noone else did. he knows how to do the strategies, the parkour, the fighting, even shooting. more than regular cops can do. looks like he is/was a secret agent? there is much to find out.

what happened between todd and black? how did their relationship/friendship develop and how did they get to almost killing each other? most importantly (but pretty sure it will be answered) what happened between “we can’t kill each other” and black reaching the hospital?

(this will probably also be answered) who called black to come to the hospital? probably gumpa but there is a small chance dan was involved. tbh i’m not mad at dan, he did try his best. and clearly, tawi sent him to arrest the gang to weaken them, show them how far his power goes, but sending dan is still better than sending anyone else who may kill them all on the spot or whatever. so even though yok and dan got hurt over this, the gang got away better than if it hadn’t been like that (hoping they make it out of/away from the hospital).

some ideas/wishes for the last episode but probably not all of it can fit

i had this idea what if todd and the gang work together to bring tawi down, and then todd kind of takes his place but without being bad? maybe black and white could convince him to accept counseling/education on social responsibility etc xD (more like white bc i’m sure black “tried” but in his own way xD) maybe that’s too simple to be a realistic option because the system is too messed up. just dreaming a little here xD

what about white’s career? he will quit i guess? we haven’t seen their dad in ages, this part of the story needs some closure still^^

i hope yok’s mom can find a better job :’(

and gram will come to his senses lol

for namo and eugene to be happy!

for black to be loved by someone and i don’t mean romantically. everyone in his life has done him dirty =( even white =( (maybe except eugene but not sure)

what will their lives look like in a few years? after uni?

nobody will die, this is gmmtv and there is only one 3wbf is what i need to keep telling myself so stop saying that, everyone :’(((

ok brain stopped working maybe i can sleep now xD

[baphomets-hairy-bonkhonagahoogs]

Okay instead of Portal 2’s humor I’m going to talk about Wheatley next instead. Because I have more fully formed thoughts about this than I do the large, nebulous, and intimidating topic that is “Portal 2’s comedy”.

So, Wheatley. An incredible voice performance, a likeable enough character who (to me at least) has a pretty logical progression from Friend to Foe. But, the more I think about him the more he irks me. Not just from a “I don’t care for him as a person/character” perspective, but from a meta writing perspective as well.

It is a major part of the story that Wheatley was literaly designed to be a moron. To be stupid. To fill GLaDOS’ head with time wasting thoughts and ideas. He is described as a tumor. However, Wheatley isn’t really that stupid at all.

Wheatley is often unobservant, takes a long time to think, and accidentally bumbles into trouble, sure. When GLaDOS calls him out by pointing out that Chell did all the work to install Wheatley into the big powerful position over Aperture, I largely agree with her. But while Chell did do all the heavy lifting and many times came up with better solutions to achieving their shared goals, Wheatley did do a good amount of guiding and planning. He made it a goal to take out GLaDOS’ turrets and neurotoxin and then he executed that plan with Chell’s help. Chell very likely would have come to the same idea herself of course but it was Wheatley who ended up proposing it. Wheatley also helped to direct Chell around Aperture. Again, Chell would have been able to find her way around by herself but Wheatley did bring that knowledge set to the table. I believe that it would have been extraordinarily more difficult for Chell if Wheatley wasn’t around to help out in the first half of the game.

He isn’t uselessly stupid. In fact he proves himself to be resourceful and clever sometimes as well! He plants the explosive trap at the stalemate button because he saw it bite GLaDOS in the ass, he got rid of (almost) everything that could have hosted a portal on it, he gave himself multiple blast sheilds because that also bit GLaDOS in the ass.

Wheatley doesn’t feel stupid to me. Often his downfall is his insecurities or luck being against him (such as the moon becoming visible for Chell to shoot at) rather than being too stupid. Which brings me to my main point. Wheatley isn’t a stupidity core but rather an ADHD core that comes free with the insecurities that often follow ADHD people around.

I myself have ADHD, and ADHD is different for everyone. I want to make that clear. I can only speak from my own perspective on the matter. But, I find myself often relating to Wheatley.

We both have hyperactive minds that spew out thoughts before we can process if they make much sense or not. We both get easily distracted and ramble in a train of consciousness style. For an example of this look towards Wheatley telling Chell about the robot myths and stories about Aperture and its history while they both navigate behind the scenes in the first half of the story. We both think up obtuse, unconventional (yet creative) solutions to problems that are at times unnecessarily and often inefficient. For an example, see Wheatley’s frankenturrets or all the ways he tries to chase the high of the euphoria of testing. I often feel stupid or like “a moron” myself when I’m forced to work within a structure built for neurotypicals and inevitably fall behind. Remember earlier when I said that Wheatley is more often defeated by his insecurities than his supposed lack of intelligence? Well that insecurity stems from his own frustration at himself or ridicule from others when he can’t succeed at what is expected of him by himself or others (GLaDOS mainly). This is painfully relatable. His rejection sensitivity is delt with my lashing out and trying to maintain a level of control over the facility (not a very healthy way to deal with it, but it’s definitely more interesting for the story’s sake). When his intelligence is insulted he takes it very hard, I’d guess seeing it as a form of rejection, and overcompensates with classical music and “reading” Machiavelli. I’m sure there’s more I’m forgetting as I write this, but I hope I’ve got my point across.

Wheatley isn’t stupid, he just has ADHD symptoms. And often times people with ADHD are read as stupid, and ADHD traits are assigned to characters who are supposed to be stupid. I’d hope that it is obvious why this is problematic. And the issue isn’t exclusive to Portal 2 by any means. For example, Andy Dwyer from Parks and Rec probably just has ADHD with a big does of impulsivity.

Does all this make me hate Wheatley as a character? No actually. This is a systemic problem that I feel as though many creatives don’t even realize what they’re doing as they do it. I believe it’s ignorance in good faith over malice in bad faith. Is it okay if this makes you hate the way Wheatley is written and ruins him for you? Of course! It’s a personal thing. I simply wanted to share because if I can help other people notice it then hopefully it should stop happening.

While I don’t believe it’s intentional, I think it ends up saying a lot about how an ADHD person ends up getting treated in an environment literally not made for them. And power corrupts, of course, so I have a hard time seeing it as a “neurodivergent people are evil or bad people” narrative. Anyone who is given so much power is gonna turn fuckin’ evil, see GLaDOS or the disgustingly capitalist Cave Johnson (Though he was pretty evil from the get go. I’ll talk about Cave more when I talk about Portal 2’s comedy). Wheatley’s only flaws aren’t his symptoms either. He’s just kinda sexist as well, this shines through in little ways like his assumption that the human who beat GLaDOS was a man. Wheatley is complicated.

In conclusion, I hope that made even a lick of sense. I’ll admit that it was difficult trying to articulate all my thoughts of this in a easy to read way, so I hope I did a good job!

[starlene]

I briefly discussed this with @chazmina​ back in, what, February, and wrote a note to myself that I should make a post about it... well, I guess time’s a construct and it’s always better late than never, so here goes.

The Problem with Emma/Jekyll in Jekyll & Hyde the Musical

So. I’ve never really felt any chemistry in between Emma and Jekyll in J&H the musical, and whenever I watch the show, I have a rather hard time trying to get invested in their relationship. I wanted to write a little post exploring why that might be!

First off, because coming from me, someone might think this is the case – I don’t think it’s because I ship Utterson and Jekyll. The way I ship those two (namely, a semi-unrequited mess of mostly bad feelings) doesn’t really get in Emma/Jekyll’s way. If anything, having an impending wedding to someone else enhances my Utterson/Jekyll experience. And hey, you know what the meme says, Jekyll has two hands... and he effectively uses them both to hurt many, many people. :)

But, thinking about Emma...

The musical, of course, does what every other adaptation of Jekyll and Hyde does and gives Jekyll and Hyde separate girlfriends. And at first glance, the whole situation with Emma and Lucy is built on some very tired stereotypes: you have the goody-two-shoes rich blonde for the good guy and the promiscuous poor brunette for the bad guy. The musical does little to combat this – but for me, the things it does make the situation worse, actually.

The Problem

When we first meet Emma in the engagement party scene, we soon find out she’s not quite what you might expect. Sure, the writing’s ham-fisted at best, but even so – instead of a demure little wife-to-be, Emma is rather sassy. She’s also broken off a relationship before, apparently simply because the man didn’t appreciate her for who she was. And now, she’s marrying a man of her own choosing, even if there are people out there who don’t approve of the match. Pretty advanced for (our stereotypical vision of) the Victorian era.

I think in some other story, this would be great! A quick-witted, self-confident lady to balance off the scientist with lofty ideals. However, in J&H the musical... first, the musical takes pains over showing us why Emma and Jekyll are a good match – come on, they badmouth the stuffy party crowd together! – and then, we see Jekyll take his leave of this fantastic woman to go ogle at dancers in a local burlesque house.

(Sure, sure, it’s a bachelor party cliché to hire some strippers, but even so. He doesn’t even hesitate. Maybe it makes a little more sense whenever they’re using the script where it’s Utterson’s idea to go to The Red Rat, but it doesn’t seem like many modern productions are based on that.)

Then, of course, Jekyll runs into Lucy, and we’re supposed to believe he sees something in her right away. Something, you might assume, that’s altogether different from whatever he sees in Emma.

Sure, the obvious thing that pops to mind first is that Lucy is sexually available in a way Emma is not – but then again, it’s six weeks to go unti Jekyll and Emma’s wedding, so soon enough, Emma will be too. (And even back in those days, I guess if they wanted to get it on right there and then, they could. I repeat, it’s six weeks, so even if they got a baby on the way right away, she wouldn’t be showing until after the wedding.) So maybe instead, Lucy understands Jekyll mentally in a way Emma does not? But if she does, what was Jekyll and Emma’s big song about knowing and loving each other as they are about? Are we supposed to think it was insincere? Or are we supposed to assume that Jekyll assumes that, unlike Emma who knows and loves Jekyll, Lucy would also love Hyde as he is? (I guess that might be it, I’ve previously talked about this with someone who was an advocate of that theory – but it’s still a lot of assumptions stacked on top of each other without ever making the situation quite clear.)

This all leaves us with a rather weird situation: Jekyll is in love with and getting married to Emma, who loves him back and is very likeable. At the same time, Jekyll finds Emma lacking somehow, because when he gives way to his repressed urges, he immediately goes to cheat on her with Lucy.

Of course, you could use a setup like this to argue, say, that you shouldn’t except any single relationship to fulfill all your dreams, and that monogamy is not the right lifestyle for everybody – but this show is decidedly not smart enough for that, and the extremely stereotypical way the women are otherwise handled doesn’t really allow for enough nuance to argue something like that. From a storytelling point of view, in a show like this, you’d except something a bit more overt.

The Solution

To fix this, here’s what I’d do:

I’d still write Emma as a feisty, likeable character – but I’d add in a couple of lines where the engagement party guests whisper about her embarrassing breakup with Simon and how she’s getting on in years, so it’s good she’s settling down with someone, even if Jekyll is way beneath her.

When it’s time for the big Jekyll/Emma duet, then, I’d write it in a way that makes clear something’s not quite clicking in between them, that they’re not quite in tune with each other (maybe literally.) There would be some clever lyrics implying that, while they’re dreaming of a harmonious future together, their exceptations of what their marriage will be like actually contradict each other. Maybe Jekyll doesn’t even understand Emma’s sense of humour, and when she tries to make some sassy remark about a party guest, he just stares at her, nonplussed.

And then, when Jekyll and Utterson leave the engagement party for The Red Rat, you could have Jekyll confessing he’s a bit worried about how balancing his work with the duties of a family man is going to work out. And Utterson’s all, hey bro, I hear you, but it can’t be that bad, I mean, correct me if I’m wrong, but once she inherits her father’s fortune, [insert ka-ching noise]... and then you could have Jekyll sheepishly admitting that Papa Carew’s fortune is something he indeed considered when proposing to Emma... but John, don’t get me wrong, it’s also that I’ve never met any woman I like as much as I like Emma, and isn’t that a perfectly respectable reason to get married to her?

And boom, then Jekyll meets Lucy, and she’s the one. He knows it immediately after seeing her: what he feels for Emma is nothing compared to this, this is the woman of his dreams, the only one for him, and no matter what he does or who he marries, he’ll never be able to put her away from his mind. (Shhh. I know it’s saccharine. I guess at heart, I’m a tragic romantic.)

Then, Jekyll’s dilemma becomes this: he knows that by breaking up with Emma, who’s already scandalised everybody by breaking off an engagement with Simon Stride, he would destroy her chances of ever getting married, and he cares for her enough that he doesn’t want to ruin her. He knows that by now, it’s his gentlemanly duty to go through with the wedding. What’s more, he obviously knows marrying a prostitute would destroy whatever credibility he still has in the London society – and if he ever wants to advance his career and make a real difference in the world, he cannot have that. He knows that a connection with the Carew family, and in time, Papa Carew’s fortune, would greatly help him to reach his professional goals.

And maybe Hyde treats Lucy badly not only because she prefers Jekyll to Hyde, but because somewhere deep inside, Jekyll and therefore Hyde is angry at her for existing – for destroying what would’ve otherwise been an okay-ish marriage and an okay-ish life. Because now that he knows her, he knows how true love (and lust) feels like, and a lukewarm existence simply will not do anymore.

What do you guys think? Does this make sense to you? Or if you really like Emma and Jekyll’s relationship in the musical and don’t think it should be changed, why is that, and what is it that I’m not getting about it? :D

[koocycle]

if not forever | jk drabble

pairing. jungkook x reader

summary. “i wanted to be with you for a long time, if not forever. you ruined that. you ruined many things.”

wc. 1.6k

warnings. none

a/n. kinda messy post break up drabble. wrote this in one go and did not (!!) proof read nor edit ahaaa my sincere apologies if this is the worst thing u ever read

masterlist

“what’s so funny?”

your voice comes out a little harsher than you had officially intended to and for some odd reason, you had hoped to throw him off guard with it. however, the same beautiful yet forced grin keeps its place on his face. the smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes yet he makes no effort into erasing it, maintaining his gaze on the plates of seafood in front of him.

“i’m sorry, i don’t mean to laugh at you,” he speaks with his mouth still stuffed with the fried shrimps you ordered earlier, showing you he kept his old habits you always told him to get rid off. “but it’s kinda funny to me.”

“i don’t know what you’re talking about.” you lie as you reposition yourself in your seat. he doesn’t need to see it, but he knows your fingers are nervously fumbling with the edge of the table cloth.

“you do, though.” the man in front of you places his chopsticks neatly back in place whilst speaking, still not making any eye contact.

“you don’t even like the dude. you’re making him look ridiculous sitting here.” he dares to state out loud, chewing on the last remains in his mouth.

the urge to roll your eyes at the man is getting stronger, and at first you decide to not give him the satisfaction of an answer. you have better things to do, you keep repeating to yourself. you don’t have time for such childish acts, you decide. that until he speaks up again.

“what even was that story about? dude keeps talking about his art galleries and shit. as if you could care less.” he snickers cockily into the warm air.

“drop it, jeongguk.”

“oh and don’t get me started on when he began to show off his paintings.” he huffs, “he was literally fishing for compliments. couldn’t be more obvious.” he continues on, taking another sip of his sparkly water. “he thinks he’s the shit because he owns a pair of designer shoes and a gucci bag.”

“excuse me, taehyung is a very fine man. thank you very much.” you snap at him, not taking his harsh words any longer.

“sure.” he holds his hands up in the air. “i’m just saying, he isn’t what you’re looking for.”

“and what am i looking for, jeongguk?” you ask almost immediately, fed up with his attitude and big ego. “since you know me so well, tell me everything about it.”

“i’m not trying to invade your life, since you decided i shouldn’t be a part of it any longer-”

you hold your finger up in the air, shushing him mid-sentence, “give me a minute to take notes, yeah?”

a beat of silence passes through the both of you, each of you way too stubborn to break the intense eye contact you are sharing. bubbles of laughter erupt on the tables beside yours, happy couples and families making the most out of their night, the tense atmosphere on the table next door going completely unnoticed by them.

and for the first time this night, you and jeongguk are actually, sincerely looking at each other. the previous hour before taehyung excused himself to the bathroom was filled with awkward small talk and tacky glances that didn’t last any longer than a second.

you didn’t plan to find your ex in this restaurant this exact night. fuck, you didn’t plan to see him ever again, you assured yourself it was better for your own mental health. and when your tinder date decided to meet up at his favorite restaurant? what would you do then? you’d go nonetheless. because what were the odds of seeing the one person you didn’t bet on seeing tonight? the chances were small, that for sure, but with your luck, you should’ve seen it coming.

and what would you do when your ex introduced himself to your new date as an old friend of yours? of course you’d sit down at his table. of course you would, because your prince charming for the night was a beautiful social butterfly. as talented as he is, as breathtaking as he looks, it wasn’t enough and he just had to be social enough to accompany this so called old friend on his table.

“i just don’t get how you can date him.” he sighs into the air, leaning back in his chair with a huff.

“he seems like a cool person to be around, whether or not he reaches your standards,” you say, slumping down your own seat now. “and we’re not dating.”

“you’re going on dates with him.” he corrects himself. “and you bring him to places i’ve been bringing you to the past three years?”

you hate the sharp edge to his tone. you hate the desperate search for answers which is evident in his voice. you hate it. you caused it, you’re aware. and the pang in your chest grows each second of taehyung’s absence.

“how could you throw us aside like that?”

his voice is booming loud and clear through your ears, and even though you had been expecting this question sooner or later tonight, you still hadn’t figured out a solid answer for him. you wish you had.

“did those three years mean nothing to you?” he has so many questions bottled up inside of him, so many questions he has collected over the past months, unable to form any solid answers himself - so now that you’re in front of him, he has to take his chances, no?

the sight of you not making any eye contact is irritating him, though. he doesn’t see, but he knows you’re staring at your fumbling fingers under the table, folding the edges of the napkin placed on your lap. your pretty lips are shut tight, the beautiful toothy smile he was once able to appear on your face, has disappeared. your silence is killing him.

“did they mean nothing to you?” he asks again, his voice slightly cracking halfway.

you feel his stare burning on your face, you hear the way he holds his breath for a few seconds. and it pains you. “they did. they still do.”

“then why did we stop? we were perfect together.” his voice lowers a few octaves, “we were perfect.”

“jeongguk..”

“i planned to stay with you for a long time, if not forever.” he says, unable to keep his stares away from you. he hates how you’re able to stay so silent, proving all the assumptions that had been swerving in his mind to be right. he wants to yell at you for being so calm, he wants you to know how he’s been feeling the past couple of months. like total shit.

he loves you so much. he loves you so much that it hurts. he loves you so much that he wants you to go through the pain he’s been going through. he may know it’s selfish, but the way you’re sitting there, slumped onto your seat, giving him answers filled with silence - he doesn’t care no more. doesn’t want to care.

“don’t say stuff like that, guk. you don’t mean that.” you rub your temples in a tired manner. “we both know that wasn’t going to work with the way things were going between us.”

they way his name leaves your lips in such an unfamiliar manner makes his head spin.

“you thought it wasn’t going to work.” he snaps, and loudly so, making a few heads turn in your direction. “you thought so many things and you made a rashed decision that isn’t better for neither of us.”

he continues on, “i wanted to stay with you for forever. you ruined that - you ruined many things. you ruined the beautiful things we had.” he rambles, and you can feel your heart beat against your ribcage now. “i bet you didn’t even think twice about the break up. bet you just went up and left. probably for this guy too. you didn’t care - you don’t care about those years. you’re selfish.”

“you gotta stop it, guk.”

“i have to remind myself to not be sad when i go home to an empty house when i leave work.” he says, an accusing finger pointing your way. “i loved you and you didn’t give two shits. i have to wake up and go to bed with a shit feeling whilst your out here going on dates with guys you barely know?”

you catch your breath in your throat. you want him to know how much he meant to you - how much he still means to you. how you’re going through it as well. you’re not sure if he’d still believe you, considering the circumstances you were in.

“i’m going through it as well, jeongguk. i swear i am. just as much as you.” you reach for his hands resting on the table, needy for some contact.

he pulls himself away from you, though. so your hands fall on the wooden table in defeat. “this is as hard for me as it is for you. but i had to do this. what we had wasn’t healthy.”

he nods as if he understands you. he doesn’t. his lips purse and his glossed eyes are the last thing you see before he tears his gaze away and grabs his stuff on the chair next to him.

“you don’t understand.” he mumbles, right before he goes up and leaves.

you call out for him a couple more times, but he’s not listening, so you watch him from afar, just until you hear the heavy door of the restaurant go to a shut.

and you cry.

[ginnympotter]

to the garden

here it is, my betty inspired jily one-shot. to be honest i’ve been struggling to write this for so long i don’t even know if it’s good, but i finished it and i’m at least proud of that. i hope you guys enjoy it. thanks so much for reading 💗 p.s. this is a covid free universe

you can also read it on AO3 here.

Thursday Afternoon

“I fucked up,” James announced as he sat down for lunch.

No one looked up, but Sirius responded after a large gulp of his soda. “That’s nothing new.”

James growled, stabbing at his roast beef. “No, you don’t understand. I fucked up so bad, I’m not even hungry.”

Remus was kind enough to spare him a sympathetic look. “Well if it ruined your appetite, it must be serious. What happened?”

“Evans switched her homeroom,” he muttered under his breath, looking around to make sure she was not near. He spotted her at her usual table across the room, out of earshot. “And I won’t make assumptions but…I think it’s ‘cause of me.”

“I believe that was an assumption,” Remus replied. “And a ridiculous one, at that.”

“But it’s true! She knows,” James cried hopelessly. “She knows I got with Alison this summer.”

Peter laughed. “Well, the whole school knows that.”

James’s eyes widened. He felt his stomach drop. “What do you mean, Pete?”

“Inez,” Sirius answered, still not looking up, browsing through different motorbikes on his phone.

James groaned. Of course Inez ran her mouth. If Inez got word of anything, true or false, she spread it like wildfire.

“On the bright side, I also heard from Inez today that Snape and Lily aren’t talking anymore,” Peter told him comfortingly.

Despite all odds, James’s spirits lifted just the tiniest bit. “They aren’t?”

He shot his eyes back at Lily’s table and noticed that Snape wasn’t there. Mary was sitting next to Lily and Marlene sat across from them, animatedly telling a story. He forced himself to look away so Lily wouldn’t catch him staring.

“Regardless,” Remus said, looking pointedly at James. “Lily switched into my homeroom, and she told me this morning it’s because she’s taking AP Lit instead of regular English class, so she had to move some things around to make it work.”

“Classic Evans,” Sirius laughed, putting his phone down and taking a bite of his sandwich. “It’s going to be a tight race between you two for valedictorian, Prongs.”

James sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Okay, so maybe I’m not the sole reason she switched her homeroom, but she still hates me.”

“No, she doesn’t,” Remus said impatiently. “But if you’re so convinced, why don’t you just apologize?”

James got a distinct feeling that Remus knew something he didn’t. “Did she mention me to you in homeroom today? What are you hiding?” he asked eagerly.

Remus rolled his eyes. “I’m not hiding anything. Just talk to her yourself,” he responded, then gave a look that James clearly understood to mean ‘I’m done with this conversation,’ and dug back into his lunch.

Despite James’s conviction that Lily Evans hated him now, something about the way Remus was even more fed up with his antics than usual made him feel slightly less nauseous, and so he began to eat as well.

But only a moment later, the sound of Sirius’s voice made him feel sick again. “Just hook up with her at her party tomorrow night and it’ll all end well, I’m sure.”

James choked on his mashed potatoes. “Her what now?”

“Her party. You’re invited,” Sirius answered.

“I don’t follow,” James said, feeling as if very little air was entering his lungs. “How do you know she’s having a party? And that I’m invited?”

“She told me,” Sirius informed him. “We sit next to each other in AP Physics because of Vector’s alphabetized seating arrangement. You know that. That’s why you’re stuck with Peter.”

“I’m going to choose to ignore that,” said Peter.

“Anyway,” Sirius continued. “She told me she’s having a party tomorrow night at her house and to bring you guys along.” He lifted up his phone and shoved it in James’s face, a picture of a motorcycle on the screen. “What do you think about this one?”

“It’s fine,” James snapped, taking Sirius’s phone out of his hand. “Did she say my name specifically when inviting us or was she just talking vaguely about our group?”

“James, I don’t know,” he groaned reaching for his phone across the table. “I don’t analyze every word that comes out of Evans’s mouth! Now give me back my phone-“

“No-“

“Give it to him, James,” Remus said sternly.

James resigned, handing it back over. “Sorry, Dad.”

“Now, eat,” Remus ordered.

James was going to listen- he really was- but then Alison passed by with Inez. Alison looked at James and smiled sadly, offering a little wave. With regret in his stomach and guilt in his throat, he waved back, and then quickly looked back towards his friends.

“Coward,” Sirius muttered under his breath.

James gasped. If someone wanted to bruise James Potter’s ego, ‘coward’ was all they needed in their arsenal to defeat him. Above all, James has always prided himself on being brave. “How DARE you. Sleep on the street tonight, traitor.”

“Euphemia would sooner kick you to the curb for this Evans stupidity than depriving me of shelter for simply calling you out on your bullshit.”

“You don’t understand how painful my last conversation with Alison was…having to admit that I still had feelings for Lily…apologizing for not being more straightforward about it in the beginning…you can’t call me a coward after that.”

“Well, until you apologize to Lily too, I’ll continue berating you as I see fit.”

********

Friday Morning

James almost couldn’t complain; he knew he deserved this type of misery. But it still hurt.

Because as he walked into government class on Friday morning and spotted Evans, she was wearing a particular item of clothing that made his heart stop and his throat close up. Her white, knitted cardigan that it was definitely too hot to be wearing enveloped her like a hug.

“I like my sweaters oversized,” she had told him that night.

And now he couldn’t concentrate on a single thing Binns was saying because the very little self-control he had over his daydreaming was ripped away by that cardigan. He sat two seats to the left and one seat behind Lily and stared at the white material, remembering the feel of it through his fingers as he pulled her to him that night under the streetlight, as he took it off of her in his car…

He cursed himself for not treasuring that night more than he did…then maybe he wouldn’t have stormed out of the dance. Then maybe he wouldn’t have gotten in the car with Alison. Then maybe he would have actually had the courage to ask Lily to be his girlfriend when he had the chance.

Sirius was right. He was a coward.

He drowned himself in the memories of that night, letting his ego melt around him, suffocating him with regret. Out of the corner of his eye, waking him from his reverie, he noticed Snape a few seats away texting furiously and glancing at Lily, who pointedly turned her phone over on her desk so that she couldn’t see any messages that might be popping up on her home screen. She started tapping her pencil against her desk in frustration.

He smiled in spite of himself, knowing what each of her little quirks were, because he’d wanted her for so long, and he just made a mess of it all.

He didn’t know how, he didn’t know if he could, but he had to clean it up.

After far longer than he could bear, the bell rang. James was deciding whether or not to approach Lily, but before he could even make a decision, she threw her books into her bag, jumped up, and bolted towards the door. For a moment, James thought she could somehow read his mind and was trying to avoid him before it was too late, but he quickly realized that it was another man in Lily’s life driving her away.

Snape got up almost as quickly as her, his greasy hair blowing behind him as he followed her. James gathered his belongings and followed the class out, curious to see if Lily had made her escape or not.

She hadn’t. Rather, she was at her locker, rummaging through, as Snape stood at her locker door, speaking rapidly to her. As James approached, it sounded like Snape was pleading with her.

“Lily,” Snape said with urgency. “How many times do I need to apologize-“

“None,” she snapped, slamming her locker door. “Because I’m done forgiving you. Just leave me alone.”

“Will you please just listen-“

He strode over. “Snape,” he growled.

Snape turned sharply towards him, his features all narrowed in anger. “This is none of your business.”

“It seems like you’re harassing Evans. She told you to leave her alone.”

Lily finally looked at him, her expression unreadable. She kept her gaze on him as she spoke to Snape. “Please, Sev. Just go.”

But he remained rooted to the spot, his face red, yet seemingly unable to speak.

James adjusted his bag’s shoulder strap unnecessarily. He spoke to Lily. “You have art next, yeah? So do I. Come on.”

And without thinking much about it, he grasped her wrist and steered them away from Snape and down the hallway. He tried to ignore the familiar feel of the cardigan against his hand, noticing how Lily was striding along with him, quickening her pace as they turned the corner to enter the staircase. They walked down the stairs quickly in silence. As they reached the landing, Lily glanced up at him.

It was the first time he got a good look at her face since the dance. The summer sun seemed to have brought out her freckles. Her face was slightly flushed. Her red bangs had grown so long she had to part them in the middle so they wouldn’t fall in her eyes. Her eyes, as beautiful, as wide, as green, as lethal as ever.

When he processed all its parts as a whole, his stomach dropped; she looked… sad. Her eyes flashed to his grip on her wrist, and he removed his hand from her and ruffled his hair anxiously.

She spoke first, her voice not giving her away. “I appreciate the intention, Potter, but you didn’t have to do that. I can handle him myself.”

“I know you can,” he assured her, feeling the heat rise on his neck. “Sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize…” she sighed, crossing her arms. “For that, at least.”

James’s stomach dropped. She stood for a moment, as if waiting for the implied other apology, but then offered a smile that was gone so fast that perhaps it was just his imagination, before turning out of the staircase into the hallway. Afraid to speak, he followed her into the art classroom. As they were the first ones in the room, Lily chose a table, and feeling reckless, James sat down next to her. “Sirius told me you’re having a party tonight.”

She nodded. “I am.”

“And that I’m invited.”

Her expression was suspicious. “You are.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You sure you want me there?”

She yanked her sketchbook out of her bag, opening it up roughly. “Show up, don’t show up, your choice, I don’t really care.”

But her voice was impassive, whereas it was usually filled with inflection and passion and emotion, so the lack thereof was a giveaway that she did care. He almost wanted to call her bluff, but the rest of their classmates started trickling in, including Lily’s friend, Mary Macdonald, who sat down and gave James a scathing look. He nodded at her politely and then focused on his bag, taking out his materials. Sirius strode in and sat next to James, giving him a questioning look. James just shook his head as he doodled on the corner of his sketchbook.

“Evans. Macdonald,” Sirius greeted their desk mates. “Ready to get smashed tonight?”

“Always,” Mary said.

“How difficult do you think it will be to impose a three-drink maximum?”

“Maximum?” Sirius gaped.

“Impossible, Lil,” Mary told her.

“What for?” asked Sirius, seeming deeply offended.

Lily sighed, pulling on her cardigan sleeves. “I just don’t want anyone breaking anything. Or vomiting on anything. My parents would kill me.”

“Or worse than that,” Mary looked at her. “Petunia,” she and Lily said simultaneously, grimacing.

Sirius let out a laugh like a bark. “Your boring, uptight sister? I’d like to see her try.”

“Oh, she will try,” Lily assured him.

“She won’t be home though, right?” Mary asked. “She’ll be off with her loser boyfriend.”

“Well, I apologize in advance, Evans, but I am going to be having more than three drinks. I probably won’t throw up, but no promises about not breaking anything, especially if this one tags along,” Sirius said, elbowing James. “Becomes a complete klutz under the influence.”

Mary turned her head sharply towards James. “You’re coming? To Lily’s party tonight? Who invited you?”

“I did,” Lily informed her, looking at her friend pointedly as if trying to send her a telepathic message. “Well, technically, I invited Sirius and told him to invite the other three. But Potter hasn’t made his mind up yet.”

Mary looked like she was containing herself as she said quietly, “Well, maybe you shouldn’t come. We can’t risk anything being broken. Although maybe it would be fun to see James suffer from Petunia’s wrath…”

James offered her an obviously fake smile, to which she narrowed her eyes in response just as the teacher began to attempt to gain the class’s attention. As the room became quiet, James caught Lily’s eyes again. Her cheeks were flushed but she didn’t shy away, she held his gaze, as if daring him to do something. If only he knew what.

*****

Friday Night

“James, stop being melodramatic.”

“Have you met him, Remus?” Sirius laughed, which James did not appreciate at all. As if he wasn’t melodramatic himself. “It’s his lifestyle.”

“Come on, we’re going to be late,” Peter urged them eagerly.

“I am unable to move,” James stated. “I have suddenly been rendered immobile. You guys go. I’ll just die here.”

Remus sighed heavily. “We’re two blocks away, James. Enough of your pretend psychosomatic syndrome and move.”

“Should I run back home and grab your skateboard?” asked Sirius, amused. “We’ll strap you to it and push you the rest of the way.”

“That could work.”

“No,” Remus refused. “Just be a man and go apologize to her. Excuse my gendered language.”

“You’re not excused,” James responded. But he grunted as he watched Remus turn and resume their route, so he forced his own legs forward, and he began to walk towards their doomed destination once again.

“Huzzah!” Peter shouted in celebration, scurrying after him.

“It’s a miracle!” Sirius gasped, throwing an arm around James’s shoulders. “Maybe I’ll convert from atheist to agnostic now.”

James chuckled nervously, fighting the urge to run very far away. He thought he could read Lily like a book, but with each step towards her house he felt increasingly doubtful of her intentions, how she would react when he arrived. It was the last time he could dream about what would happen when she sees his face again, and living in the best-case scenario fantasy was much easier than doing it in reality. But he knew if he didn’t seize this opportunity to apologize to Lily, he would never get another chance. And so he trudged on until they reached their destination. He could faintly hear the music that was blaring inside. Mary and Marlene were on the front porch laughing, Lily standing beside them.

Lily, who took his breath away with a singular glance, had her hair up the way he liked, wearing high-waist, denim shorts, a white t-shirt, and that damn cardigan. He felt his airways clog up with desire.

Mary gave James a similar dubious look as she did in art class. Marlene, who was protective of Lily but slightly more sympathetic than Mary, gave him a tight-lipped smile.

Sirius let go of James as Remus hugged Lily. James was filled with curiosity as he watched them quickly exchange whispered words in urgency. Remus patted Lily on the shoulder before walking in to her house. Peter and Marlene followed, but Sirius loitered outside, putting his arm around Mary.

“Come, Macdonald. It’s a beautiful night. Let’s walk.”

“Where?” she asked him skeptically.

“To the other side of the porch,” he told her, winking at James as if to tell him I got you covered, before steering her away from James and Lily.

It was just them for now.

There were so many things he wanted to tell her. How beautiful she looked, how much he missed her over the summer, how sorry he was for everything.

“So, I showed up,” is what he blurted out.

“And so you did.” She gave him a once over. “You look nice.”

“So do you,” he responded in haste. “More than nice- great.”

She shrugged, playing with the ends of her hair. James looked over to the other side of the porch and saw Sirius chatting up Mary, who was touching his arm and laughing.

For fear of Sirius’s distraction skills only lasting so long, James looked back at Lily. “Evans, I…I really need to talk to you. Do you think there’s somewhere we can do that with, er, a little more privacy? Like the garden?”

She bit her lip as she contemplated it. He tried not to stare, he really tried, but suddenly he felt like he was sweating.

Eventually, she nodded. “Sure. Follow me.”

She turned into her house and made her way through the living room and kitchen to the backdoor, striding without once looking back or making sure James was close behind. He followed her out the screen door and into the garden.

He sat beside her on the bench beside the orchids. The same bench where he kissed her last.

“The Evans household has a thing for flowers, huh?”

“What?”

“Well the garden has a lot of flowers. You and your sister, both named after flowers. These orchids are really nice,” he rambled nervously.

“Thanks?” she responded, looking at him suspiciously. “So, you wanted to talk?”

He cleared his throat. “Sorry. Uh, anyway. Thanks, yeah, I do. Honestly, I thought you’d tell me to go fuck myself.”

He could tell she was holding back a smile as she said, “I strongly considered it.”

“I’d deserve it,” he told her honestly, mustering up his courage. “I mean, I do deserve it. That’s why I’m here, I…I want to- no, I need to apologize to you for the way I acted the last week in school before you went away for the summer… I know you already know about it, but I…” he paused, taking a deep breath and locking eyes with her. He needed her to understand this. “I hope you can trust me when I tell you that what happened with Alison was just a summer thing…it’s over now.”

“It’s fine, James,” she said, breaking eye contact and looking off into the distance.

“No, it’s not fine,” he said in earnest. “It was stupid. Leaving the dance like that and not even talking to you and then only a few days later getting with Alison. It’s probably the worst thing I ever did. It wasn’t fair to Alison, because I was just trying to get you out of my head. But it especially wasn’t fair to you. And I’m sorry.”

The silence sat heavy around them before Lily sighed. She continued to stare at the flowers in the garden. “I just don’t know where it all went wrong.”

“I do,” he responded quietly. “At the dance, your favorite song was playing. ‘Lover’ by Taylor Swift. Remember?”

“Yeah…”

“Well, I wanted to dance with you to it-“

“I wanted to dance with you to it too,” she said, snapping her gaze back to his. Her look was fierce. “But I couldn’t find you!”

“I was sitting in the corner of the gym taking a break from the chaos. The dance was overwhelming. If it’s not a football game, I hate the crowds. You know that.”

“I do know that,” she replied, her face red. “Which is why I was trying to find you- I thought…God this sounds so stupid now. I thought we could dance to it outside or something.”

James tried to swallow, but it felt like his heart had jumped up into his throat. He forced more words out of his mouth. “It’s not stupid, that’s what I wanted to do.” They both smiled for a fraction of a second, but then his face dropped again as he told her, “But then I saw you dance with…him.”

Lily’s smile evaporated too. “You mean Severus?”

“Yes.”

Lily put her head in her hands. “Of course. Of course that’s what happened. God, how did I not put two and two together?”

“I know I was wrong now, I know nothing happened that night. Remus told me as much this summer,” he said, putting a hand through his hair, feeling the embarrassment spreading across his own cheeks. “But it was like my worst nightmare playing out before my eyes! I didn’t know you went looking for me at first, I didn’t know what you guys were talking about, I just saw his arms around you and was so angry I stormed out as fast as I could, so that I wouldn’t do something really stupid to him!”

Lily groaned, removing her hands from her face and pulling on her cardigan sleeves. “You could’ve spoken to me about it literally at any point after up until I left for my trip. I tried talking to you that last day in school and you gave me such a cold shoulder!”

“I know. And I’m sorry for that,” he apologized, hoping the sincerity was evident in his voice. “It’s not an excuse, but I was just hurt. We all know how obsessed Snivellus-“

“James,” she interrupted, rolling her eyes.

“Sorry, sorry, I know you hate that. We all know how obsessed Snape,” he corrected himself begrudgingly, continuing on, “is with you, and I know you two are like childhood best friends or whatever, so I jumped to conclusions when I saw you indulging him.”

“Well, you jumped wrong,” she almost spat. She was angry now, real angry, but James could not tell if her fury was directed at him or Snape. “I wasn’t indulging anything, he must’ve had his hands on me for fifteen seconds before I got him off me, told him off and stormed away.”

James felt a sense of relief and guilt tangled up inside him. “What happened?”

She fidgeted, exhaling deeply. “He was warning me about you for, I don’t know, the nine hundredth time at that point, saying how I should be with him instead, the usual bullshit. I went looking for you again but Sirius said you had left suddenly… And then you wouldn’t even look at me at school.”

“I was embarrassed. And furious,” he admitted.

“Yeah, I could tell as much.”

“But I still saw you talking to him,” James remembered, knowing it did not make a difference but wanting her to understand his entire thought process. “That last day in school. I saw you walk home with him. You two seemed fine.”

Lily frowned. “I was giving him one last chance to apologize, to salvage the small sliver of friendship I was still holding onto for only God knows why…we got to my house and he tried to kiss me. I had to physically push him off me, yelled at him like I’ve never yelled at anyone in my life, and he ran home. And that was the end of that.”

“Fuck,” James exhaled, feeling his anger burn every inch of his skin, boiling his insides.

“It’s ok, I’m fine,” she assured him, noticing how angry he looked on her behalf, and put the fingers peeking out of her cardigan sleeve on his hand to help level him. She let it linger for a few seconds in silence before bringing her hand back into her lap. “So that’s how my day ended before I left for Italy with my family. But I heard you had an interesting afternoon that day too, hm?”

It felt like a punch in the gut as she looked at him, her question pointed and knowing. His chest tightened as he asked, “Are you sure you want to know about it?”

“I’d rather hear it from you than Inez, so yes, if you’d please.”

He sighed, wanting so bad to look away from her but knowing he had to look her in the face so she’d see the remorse in his eyes. He summoned all the courage he had. “I saw you walking home with Snape, and was…besides myself. I took the long way home. Remember where we went on our date? That block with the broken cobblestones? I was walking there, thinking of you.” He paused and took a deep breath, Lily’s face still blank. “And then Alison pulled up in her car, noticed I was upset, told me to get in for a drive. It was like…a figment of my worst intentions. I thought you were with Snape, and Alison was throwing out hints left and right that she was interested, and so I went with it…we didn’t officially date or anything, but I spent time with her a bunch this summer. But it was so, so fucking stupid to think any other girl could distract me from you because…well, I dreamt of you all summer long. And so I told her that, and cut the whole thing off a couple of weeks ago.”

He paused, watching her face, hoping for a hint of what was racing through her beautiful brain. She was contemplative, searching his eyes. When she still said nothing, James reiterated, “I’m so, so sorry, Lily. About all of it…about Alison, about ignoring you those last few days at school, about assuming something was going on with you and Snape and storming out of the dance…”

Lily sighed, crossing her arms. “I understand. But it still hurts… I mean, I finally let you in and went on that date with you and I felt so… and then just so suddenly…” she trailed off.

“I know,” he empathized. “The thing I’m sorry for the most is not asking you to be my girlfriend the moment after you kissed me on our date. I was going to ask you at the dance, but obviously those plans got thrown out the window.”

“You were?” she asked, her arms dropping as her face softened.

“Yes,” he told her, needing her to believe him. “But not just that, I wanted to tell you how I feel, because I don’t think you really know, do you?”

She didn’t respond, so he took that as his cue to keep going.

“It’s my fault. I should’ve told you on our date, but I was trying to keep it cool, which was dumb, and I’m done with that. I’ve been…crazy about you since freshman year. I mean, I know I asked you out a bunch so you must have known I was interested, but it’s more than that. You are… the most special person I’ve ever known. You have a way of making everyone feel important. You’re so damn nice to everyone, I wish I had that kind of heart. And God, you are so smart it’s the sexiest thing-“

She started to laugh. When James’s eyes widened at this reaction, she shook her head. “I’m laughing because I think the same thing about you. Especially the smart and sexy bit.”

He smiled. “I mean, you’re so much more than sexy, you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. And when I’m with you I can just be myself. We just…fit, you know?”

“I know.”

“Evans, I’ll apologize for the rest of my life if that’s what it takes. I’m an idiot, an absolute fucking idiot for the way I acted. I’m still trying to figure this all out, you know? I’m only seventeen, I don’t know anything! I have no idea what I’m doing!” he laughed. She smiled back, and he took that as permission to hold her hand, and so he did. “But I know I miss you. More than I’ve ever missed anything or anyone. And I swear, I’ll never hurt you again. The only thing I want to do is make it up to you. Please believe me. You don’t have to forgive me yet, but at least say you believe me.”

There was a beat, and then Lily intertwined their fingers. “I believe you,” she told him. “And I forgive you.”

When James exhaled, it felt like it was the first time he properly breathed in months, his entire bodily system recalibrating. “Really?”

“Perhaps against my better judgment, but yes, really. I missed you, too.”

He suddenly felt electric, looking at Lily, letting her admission sink in. “I missed you so damn much,” he told her again, and unable to hold back a moment longer, he disconnected their fingers, put both his hands on her face and kissed her.

To his surprise, she kissed him back with matched enthusiasm, grasping at his sides and pulling him closer so that their bodies were connected. The feel of her was better than he remembered, more than he dreamed it would be. He moved one hand to the back of her head, and she opened her mouth to him. The world fell away as she let out a soft moan at the gentle sweep of his tongue. He sunk into her embrace and never intended to leave, because why would he need to do anything else?

But at some point, a few minutes too soon, Lily pulled away, leaning her head against James’s shoulder and breathing heavily.

“Alright, Evans?” he asked, kissing the top of her head.

She nodded against him. “Yeah, I’m just…hot.”

James chuckled, playing with her ponytail. “Well, that goes without saying.”

Lily snorted, picking her head up and looking at him, her eyes light and dazed. “No, I mean, I’m hot, like I’m sweating. Let me just…”

She pulled back just the slightest bit and unbuttoned her cardigan. As she shook out of it, her expression became mischievous.

“You wore that on purpose,” he accused her with an equally playful smile. “It was way too warm all day for you to actually need it.”

“Guilty,” she smirked, wrapping it around her waist. “I was hoping to spark something in your memory.”

“More like torture my memory,” he said, threading the sleeve through his fingers briefly. “You think I wouldn’t remember that you wore this on our date? The moment I saw you standing in your cardigan this morning, I knew I was fucked. I was distracted the rest of the day.”

“Too bad you didn’t see me sooner.”

“Well I would have if…”

He paused, contemplating whether he should ask her.

“If what?” she asked, looking at him curiously.

James sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Ok, random question, just thought of it like, one second ago, haven’t been ruminating on it since school started yesterday or anything. Did you switch your homeroom ‘cause of me?”

She raised her eyebrows. “Oh, so this is what you were bugging Remus about? No, of course not. I had to move my schedule around so I could take AP Lit.”

“Oh,” he exhaled in relief. “Well, good. But not good about you and my stupid friends conspiring behind my back-“

“There was no conspiring. You should be grateful for that stupid friend of yours; he pleaded your case rather convincingly.”

“He pleaded yours well too. Sometimes I don’t know whose side that guy is on.”

“Well mine, obviously,” she said. “Your assumption about homeroom was ridiculous. Did you think I was too afraid to see you or something? That I’m a coward?”

He tensed up again. “No! I would never- I just meant, I thought you were so sickened with me that the last thing you would want to do is start your day staring at the back of my head.”

She laughed, reaching over and running her fingers through his hair. He closed his eyes at the feeling, reveling in the familiar touch he last felt a few months ago, though it felt like ages. “Nah, I’m quite fond of the back of your head. An exceedingly annoying amount, actually.”

He sighed happily as her nails gently grazed his scalp.

“But as much as that may be true, and although I do forgive you, I do still feel hurt. And that trust needs to be rebuilt over time, you know?”

“I know. Lily,” her name left his lips like a whisper. Her hand paused on the back of his neck. He opened his eyes again and met hers, green and sparkling. He couldn’t blow it this time. “I really am so, so sorry. And I will do whatever it takes to make it all up to you. But can I do that as your boyfriend?”

She bit her lip, studied his face for seconds that felt like an eternity, and then nodded.

“Yeah?” he asked hopefully.

“Yeah,” she confirmed, smiling. “Let’s do it already. I’m in.”

“Finally,” he said, smiling ear to ear. Lily laughed, probably at the goofy grin on his face, before he swiftly swooped in, crushing his lips against hers again.

Her nails continued their work in his hair as she kissed him back fervently, pressing her body against his again, causing him to moan. He knew that every second he had with her was cherished, and he tried to cement them in his mind, but it was only a few minutes later a voice broke them apart.

“Lily!” Mary called out from a distance. They broke apart with a simultaneous sigh, turning to see her standing outside the back door, hands on her hips like an angry parent. Sirius pushed the screen door open, shouted, “Sorry, I tried!” and then retreated back into the house.

She marched toward them, a woman on a mission. “Really, Lil? Really?”

“Why, Macdonald, you look lovely tonight,” James tried.

“Do not test me, James Potter,” she snapped. “You can’t just-“

“Mary,” Lily called her friend’s name fiercely. “No need for the hostility. James and I hashed everything out-”

“Yeah, unfortunately, I can see!” she exclaimed in disgust.

“Could you give us some space, then? Please?” Lily asked. “I know what I’m doing. Trust me.”

Mary rolled her eyes. “Fine. But just in case you forgot, your party is happening in there without you. And you promised me a round of karaoke.”

“And I intend to keep that promise,” she told her firmly. “Just give us a few, alright?”

“Alright. I’ll be timing you though. And Potter, I got my eye on you,” she warned, pointing her index and middle finger to her eyes and then onto James.

He laughed, knowing that Mary always liked him before the summer and would soften up to him again eventually. “Understood.”

She nodded and walked off. They waited until the screen door closed behind her. Then Lily turned back to face him. “Sorry about that.”

“Don’t be, I get it,” he waved it off. “And I don’t want your friends murdering either of us, but there’s so much I wanted to catch up on, like your trip to Italy-“

“I know, me too,” she sighed.

He interlocked their fingers and lifted her hand to his lips. “Are you free tomorrow? Why don’t we get breakfast and take a drive, spend the day? That way no one can interrupt us.”

“I’d like that.”

“I’ll pick you up at nine?”

“It’s a date.”

“It’s a date.”

Knowing his time was running out, he leaned forward and kissed her once more with all he had, feeling elated as she returned each kiss with her own, already excited at the thought of kissing her more in the car tomorrow. With as much willpower as he could muster, he pulled away from her, running the hand that wasn’t holding hers down the length of her arm until it reached the cardigan around her waist. He felt a shiver down his spine at the twinkle in her eye as she squeezed his thigh. “C’mon,” she said, pulling them upwards.

He walked dreamily alongside her to the screen door, hardly able to believe his luck. Before she could open it, he stopped her. “Hey. I just wanted to say…thanks. For giving me another chance.”

“It’s your last one,” she told him, kind but certain. “So use it well.”

“I will. I promise.”

[meyeselph]

Gwenpool: Desperate Misanthrope's Confused Angst

Showtime

Ms. Pool woke up in a familiar room. Not in Krakoa - there are no mutants around. This isn’t a story about that. Look, honestly, without an actual Gwenpool series and the constant breaks in her comics appearance I can’t even begin to give a fuck. I cancelled my marvel universe subbie. I might get back to my stories but single issues are iffy. I read fast and don’t pore over the artwork. So I get 10 minutes of entertainment for….FIVE DOLLARS? When did this happen? Jeezus.

Who even reads comics anymore?

Anyway, long story short, Gwen got out of bed and recognized the room as her old one from the “old times.” The dark times. The ‘not running around in pink and white outfits and shooting people’ times. She panicked (Been there. It is what it is though). The only way out of trauma is through.

She dressed in old clothes, immediately hit by old smells, she couldn’t help but cry. Was it all a dream? Have I gone insane (again)? All the usual self doubts cropped up. I mean, really, if you think this kind of thing didn’t pass through her mind regularly why don’t you transport yourself to a comic book universe?

Oh, you can’t?

Oh. It isn’t actually possible for you and I’m stupid for suggesting it. So, yeah. If it actually happened and you kept that attitude then the logical assumption for a normie is a mental breakdown. Trick for Gwen, though, is it's probably always been both real and her being nuts.

So she goes downstairs to the kitchen to figure out why this is happening and Evil Gwen is having cereal. Let's say cocoa puffs. I’ve been thinking about those recently. You ever remember cereal as something worth cherishing. Not as just bullshit that TV convinced you to want? God damn, now I want Cookie Crisp. Cookie Crisp wasn’t even ever that good. Why do I want Cookie Crisp?

So also sitting around the table were the faceless versions of her father, mother, and her brother. Just chilling. No BD. Seen Eternal Sunshine of The Spotless Mind?

Yes, I know that references aren’t jokes - fuck you, I’m painting a picture and I CAN’T PAINT, THAT’S WHY THIS ISN’T A COMIC. Fucks sake. Anyway. So, Gwen is so creeped out that she just sits her butt down by Evil Gwen as if she’s the comforting presence here.

Her name’s too long. Let’s call Evil Gwen uh…….Gren. You know, like Grendel from Beowulf. I haven’t actually read Beowulf and this is all a little confusing but I'm solving problems here. Writing this is harder for me than you would think so it’s best to keep things flowing off the cuff. That’s the Gwenpool™ style anyway, isn’t it? Are you laughing yet? IMPROV. “YES AND” MY SHIT, READER!

“So, you ever really look into the retconned past thing, hun?” Gren said, moving her tongue around her food. Being gross as an attempt to be properly evil. She swallowed before continuing. “This is all I could really put together on short notice but i’m pretty sure what the future people created, all that stuff to try and trick you, it was all bullshit.”

“What do you mean? Are you trying to convince me to go all psycho like you again?” Gwen asked, exasperated, realizing she was now back in the whole ‘fuck with Gwen to decide her fate’ song and dance routine from the end of her first arc.

“Nah, not really.” Gren said. A hammer appeared in her hands out of nowhere and Gren swung it into their fake father’s head, snapping his neck..

“DAD!” Gwen instinctively cried as she saw her father’s body slump to the floor. Gren slapped Gwen’s face. “That’s it,” Gren said, “this is what the trick was.This is a poorly created character in a fictional story. Meant to manipulate you into attaching your concept of “father” to it. Even his finished version in the original comics run wasn’t THAT well drawn. Your dad read like a boomer’s idea of a responsible parent. You were going through a mental crisis and struggling to find purpose in life and his genius idea was get a shitty low paying job and suck it up?”

Gren turned to their brother, pushed his face to the table and smashed the back of his skull. . “Brother dearest, too. Going right along with their victim blaming. He gaslighted you as if what you were going through was just you being ‘irresponsible.’ Bitch, people working a minimum wage job aren’t somehow not impoverished and miserable because they get some of that ‘honest work’ that folks keep badgering on about. Minimum wage work is occupied by many physically and mentally disabled people held hostage; they’re people society only pretends to care about. Then they turn it all into you acting like some world ending threat. No questions about what drove you to the edge in the first place. You are just ‘unstable,’ so you’re just a problem to be solved. They say, ‘Let’s all solve this girl being upset and on edge by ruining her concept of self, reality, and memory.’ Brilliant!”

Gwen barely processed this in horror. Gren then slit the poor facsimile of their mother’s throat while continuing to rant, “You see people die all the time, Gwen. Half of the time you are doing the killing. You do it because it’s in a story. In a story the NPCs don’t matter and, after all, your original schtick in the story was to be kill-crazy. The non-marketable characters can be replaced or retconned at the stroke of the artist’s pen.” Gren leans forward as she pulls a Gwenpool mask over Gwens face. “Then the writers convince you that you have some middle class milk toast family and you take abuse and subsume your emotional needs because the problem MUST be you. You aren’t ‘normal’ so you have to be fixed.”

Gwen wiped her eyes over the mask and sighed. A bit of fire filled her gut as she stared at Gren. “So fucking what? You want me to go on a killing spree and be a big time villain to get myself a nice, shiny permanent big bad status? That’s how I stay around right? Just build my legacy on bodies?”

Gren scoffed “You already lost that fight, girly. Where do you think we are? Because this ain’t Marvel Comics.”

Confused, Gwen blinked and tried reaching for the page margins, finding nothing. Wait….why was everything on this page so ill defined and undetailed? Wait? Why was the story in kinda wobbly third person past tense?

Gwen sighed “Oh. I’m in a fanfic. I guess the publishing fight is for another day eh?”

“My advice, personally,” Gren stated, “is that you consider the lobster.”

“Wait, what the fuck?”

Gren pulled aside the kitchen curtains revealing the face of a giant lobster, its claws tapping on the glass. The lobster muttering gutterally about personal responsibility.

“Because there’s a couple thousand giant lobsters outside that would like to claw you until you read their book.”

--

Scared of Girls

On the rooftop, Gren shoved a high powered rifle into Gwen’s hands while she handled the close range threats. So, this conversation they’re about to have is important. Sniping puts Gwen into a sort of zen space, so that’s a better task to keep her focused, after all.

“So, what? You wanted me to internalize that my “origin story” is bullshit? Okay, what does that accomplish, then?” Gwen asked in a bit of a deadpan. She was so tired today. Not really feeling her happy go lucky energy. More like a “happy go fucky” energy. It was hard to always be on a knife's edge. Still the rifle’s kick into her shoulder was satisfying as she blew through two of the creepy looking lobsters at once. “Also, why the lobsters?”

Gren considered this. “Okay, last question first, I had to experiment a lot and do a lot of research to construct this place for your learning and healing in fanfic form....These buddies are a failed experiment of mine that I repurposed because the fic needed more action. Isn’t that right, giant enemy crap?” As she peppers the nearest goon with a hail of shotgun pellets the entire throng of them burst out, sharply muttering about divine symbols.

“As for what I'm trying to teach you, it’s that you aren’t reaching your potential.” Gren grumpily huffed.

“Duh,” Gwen reloads, “I mean you just killed a mannequin version of the voice in my head that says that to me every day.” one of those crustaceans talks about feminine symbolism while she decides on her next target.

“Not like fake daddy’s ‘Be a responsible member of society by paying your taxes’ type of potential. I mean your creative and emotional potential.” Gren flipped off the slavering throng of monsters, noticing they were starting to keep their distance from the roof.

“I never did finish that fanfic idea I had.” Gwen mused.

“God, don’t mention that,” Gren thrusts a finger at Gwenpool. “Not that I don’t respect fanfic, but when comic book writers make you and Kamala squee about fanfiction to try and relate to “the kids” it comes across as so condescending.”

“Really? I mean…..I'm sure it’s meant as support for the concept?”

“Most fucking superhero comics are just legalized fanfiction! The people who created the characters are either long gone or working on someone else’s characters! They just think they are so much better because they got fucking paid. They can’t imagine themselves as on the same playing field as fanficcers even though most of them have the same level of connection to the roots of the work as anyone else.” Gren groused loudly as she seemed to pull Reed Richards out of nowhere.

Confused, Reed looked around until his eyes met Gwen’s.“Oh great, you again.” Reed groaned as he turned to survey the piles of lobster gibs while Gwen cheered the lobster forces’ retreat with a resounding “EDF, EDF!”. The scattered creatures skittered amongst the bland scenery. It looked like a suburban neighborhood but someone forgot to color in the sky….or write that the sky had color. A castle hung out in the distance breaking up the generic normalcy and lay cloaked in shadow despite being surrounded by an endless white void.

“And…..black….you?” Reed pointed to Gren, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, I have an evil future self….well I stopped that future so it’s an….evil...alternate timeline self?” Gwen said with a nervous chuckle, abandoning the kill quest for the minute and rested her rifle on the roof.

“Ah. Yeah I’ve been down that road. It’s a rather common occurrence. Multiverse being what it is.” Reed laughed heartily while putting his hands on his hips.

“I’m not sure I’m evil, honestly,” Gren interjected. “I think I’m just really fucking grumpy and I’m slightly more gung-ho on the homicide. Considering Gwen’s already one of the more kill crazy characters on the roster it’s not that much of a distinction.” Gren flipped her cape. “My main distinction is I don’t like that meme from The Incredibles! You can just make it so the cape detaches automatically when it’s pulled hard enough!”

“You could still have it tangled up around your face.” Reed pointed out in his standard know-it-all fashion.

“Don’t make me go into fuck wife mode, stretch.” Gren spat. “Okay, anyway, so I brought him here to illustrate a point. Reed. Explain particle physics to me as a laymen.”

“Huh...i’m not sure why but okay. Particle physics (also known as high energy physics) is a branch of physics that studies the nature of the particles that constitute matter and radiation. Although the word particle can refer to various types of very small objects (e.g. protons, gas particles, or even household dust), particle physics usually investigates the irreducibly smallest detectable particles and the fundamental interactions necessary to explain their behaviour. In current understanding, these elementary particles are excitations of the quantum fields that also govern their interactions. The currently dominant theory explaining these fundamental particles and fields, along with their dynamics, is called the Standard Model. Thus, modern particle physics generally investigates the Standard Model and its various possible extensions, e.g. to the newest "known" particle, the Higgs boson, or even to the oldest known force field, gravity.” Reed rattled this off rather mechanically.

Gren then took out her phone and showed Gwen the Wikipedia article on “Particle Physics,” which is naturally the same words that Reed had regurgitated above, just without any formatting and, again, on a phone.

“Reed can’t be a genius in any subject unless he’s written by a genius in that subject. That’s how stories work. Everyone is limited by the understanding and capabilities of the writer. Same with your origin story and all the people you’ve interacted with. If you are as ‘meta’ as you think you are then you have to realize that you aren’t actually talking to people. You are talking to the writer. Dr. Strange didn’t rewrite your existence to be a part of the Marvel Universe. As far as most of Marvel continuity goes Dr. Strange was never there and doesn’t know or care about his MCU casting…..Hey Reed, buzz off please before the conversation pivots to why you haven’t cured all known diseases.”

Reed looked a little surprised but then pulled out a teleportation device (of course he has one) and blipped away with a shrug.

“How awkward is that going to be when he enters the MCU after Kamala is already introduced with a very similar power set?” Gwen chuckled.

“Keep up the way you’ve been going and you’ll never see it. I’m not exactly expecting a young blonde girl casting call for Deadpool 3 and that’s your best bet.” Gren snarked. Gwen winced with a sigh.

“I don’t get what I'm doing wrong. I have a fanbase comparable to some of the characters that have already shown up but I can’t even get comics written about me most of the time. An MCU push seems unlikely. They would literally have to deal with completely recontextualizing my powers and gimmick”

“Let’s ask her what you should do.” Gren motioned her way to the suddenly appearing long hair future Gwen, looming over them like The Attack of the 50 foot Woman for some reason. Dwarfing the roof they are on. Let’s call her BIGwen!

--

Gold Guns Girls

As BIGwen acclimated to her surroundings she stubbed her toe on a car, dramatically flipping it so that it took out a few more lobsters before caving in a nearby house. The lamentations about clean rooms soaring as the remaining couple dozen of them attempt to clean up some of the bodies of their fallen kin. The large and sort-of-in-charge Gwen hissed in pain and adjusted her boot. Getting her balance as best as possible she muttered curses that traveled rather well considering the lung capacity of a giant.

“You know,” Gren started, “I wasn’t expecting much from our previous uses of the ‘make her big for emphasis’ trick, but it really does only work as a vague ghostly background element. I didn’t just want it to be ‘oh, here's a third Gwen for the conversation, though. Would lack umph.”

“ Yeah, I get it, but staring at my own giant taint is unsettling.” Gwen muttered.

“I’d still, hit it.” Gren grinned, then immediately got punched in the arm. “OWWW! Look, I’m the evil one here and we’re in a fanfic. I’m allowed to make internet fetish jokes.”

“And I’m allowed to hit you for it.”.

“Dirty lampshading goody two shoes. Don’t act like half your fanbase isn’t thirsty. It’s “insert current year argument”, all art is sexy to someone.” Gren complained back,rubbing her arm before hopping off the roof. Gwen followed while listening as patiently as she could considering how many changes in topic her evil-caped self is going through to get to her point. “This chick is the reason you’ve been on the path of good girl. Some vague idea that in the future everything will work out for the best. HEY, DOWN HERE, BIG SHOW!” Gren waved at BIGwen and she looked down curiously.

“Yeah what??” BIGwen responded in a booming and agitated tone. Honestly, being in this fic made every version of Gwen a little grumpy.

“How’s she supposed to be a popular hero that makes it into the MCU and has a stable publication history?” Gren asked.

“Fuck if I know.” Came BIGwen’s response. “Have you tried growing your hair out?”

“Rub it in,” Gwen muttered under her breath, “I’m not gonna lie, I’m kind of depressed now.” Gwen said as she sat on an abandoned car.

Gren hopped on the roof of the car, patting Gwen’s shoulder before squatting with enough force to flex the car’s shocks like a rocking chair just to amuse herself. “Future “good” Gwen wasn’t an actual plot point, it was a call to action to the fans to make fanfic like this and support the character outside of the actual Canon. Chris didn’t trust that Marvel would treat the character right. That, and your obsession with getting a new book, are both the writer’s attempt to turn a marketing tactic into fan engagement. If you want to be real then that makes the fans want you to be real even more, too.”

Gwen sighs heavily and leans her chin on one hand. “I mean...the time traveling through the life of an NPC fan complete with a Never Ending Story reference was a bit sappy even by the standard we sometimes set...damn it it really was just kind of a fan manipulation trick wasn’t it?”

BIGwen Sat down on the street next to them and crossed her legs. “Hey, little me. Don’t get too down. I mean it worked for the most part. You have a healthy cult following. Characters have survived on less and there are worse things to be known for then as a fan first character”

“But I have to fight for attention all the damn time, though. It’s so easy for Wade with his fucking meme bullshit. He even gets runoff enthusiasm from me. Jeff the land shark is all over Oldpool online” Gwen felt rather heavy and tired all of a sudden. Marvel editorial forcing a gun to your head is not a fun way to be.

“All that fight is hell on the fanbase too.” Gren sighed. “Advocating for shit, getting crumbs and being expected to accept it while Disney lavishes all the attention based on some bullshit numbers game. Even if you make it into the MCU will it be a Batroc style cameo with obligatory ‘killed off in case we don’t feel like paying the actor again later.’ Will it be an emotionally rounded character or an ambush bug style joke? The thing is. You're Not the one fighting and you never were.”

“The fuck do you mean?”

“This version of her doesn’t know?” BIGwen whimpered.

“You aren’t real, Gwen.”

--

Head Like a Haunted House

“No….we aren’t having this conversation. Fuck you fuck you i’m not a fucking Nihlist and i’m not going to do this right now.” Gwen said as she scrambled off of the car and pulled out some guns. BIGwen then picked her up off the ground.

“You need to hear this, Gwen,” BIGwen boomed. “The gimmick has run its course. It’s fucking with your canon. You’re never going to be a marketable character keeping up a half fourth-wall Kayfabe”

Gren climbed onto BIGwen’s Shoulders and perched over Gwen all menacing like. “You need to listen. I’ve been trying to ease you into this. Making things more meta slowly until you were ready but it was never going to be easy.”

One of Gwen’s guns was fired from it’s holster and pierced one of BIGwen’s fingers. BIGwen screamed and her grip loosened. Soon Gwen was on the move running up her arm and firing at Gren, who dodged like the nimble and cute badass she is. “Don’t do this Gwen. Just because it doesn’t matter to the comic version of you doesn’t mean it doesn’t matter.”

“I’m a real person god damn it! I read the comics out there! I came in! That’s why I know shit I shouldn't know. That’s what I am! THAT’S ALL I AM!” Gwen shrieked as she pulled out a sword from hammer-space and decapitated BIGwen. Suddenly a mess of colored streamers and a pile of Mickey Mouse merch tumbled out. Look, I am busy right now. Gwen is still slashing at my ass. I'm not going to explain it.

For some reason now the remaining lobsters were helping Gren. For Gwen’s own good you understand. This is proof that I’m right for some reason.

Gwen pulled out a revolver, firing pumpkin sized holes in lobsters who were still wailing about self actualization. She fully planned on shoving a sword up her evil self’s ass and getting rid of this doppelganger shit for good. Which is total bullshit by the way. She totally just cut off Gren’s leg because what the fuck you mean I’m not real? I’m going to be real all over your corpse.

Gren didn’t really think that was even a good comeback and also thought you should probably say it instead of meta willing the smack talk into existence, otherwise this fanfic is going to read like trash. Also, Gren’s leg wasn’t actually cut off. In a puff of smoke it is revealed that the cut off leg is a log and her leg is fine. Gren is a ninja now, believe it.

Gwen proceeded to do a sick ass CQC judo throw on Gren and then grab her cape and wrap it around her face like Reed suggested. Callbacks for the win! Callbacks to Checkov’s gun ideas always lead to victory in fights! She then totally shot at her and such.

But the bullet was caught by the cape because the cape was a symbiote! That’s right Gren is also GRENOM!...boy that sounds stupid. Anywho, the cape was no longer around her face and the fight continued and Gren now ALSO had extra powers and special wizard-symbiote armor (that would only show up in the MCU version if Marvel finally got the Sony characters back). The meta powers work like shit in text but this would be really good in CGI or animation if Marvel wanted to adapt this fic and give the writer lots of money. Gren still has more experience with them, though, and Gwen can’t really just kill her way out of this fic so she has to just let the story play out.

…...eh?....oh Gwen’s crying. I love/am you girl but we gotta work on the crying. Fucks sake this is harder than I thought. I’m depressed now too. Well I'll try to get the writing back on track so you guys can see what is going on. Even the lobsters are minding their manners now. Chill vibes, guys.

“The marvel character page for Gwenpool says, and I quote:

Gwenpool arrived in the Marvel Universe from the “real world,” but has wasted no time in making the most of her time in her fictional universe. Using her knowledge of comics to her advantage, Gwenpool causes and solves problems for her fellow heroes.”

Gren drags a lobster corpse slowly toward Gwen and sits on its tail as she talks to her. Taking her time to really scrape the lobster against the ground, smearing the gore on the pavement. Not that it was heavy for her or anything. Totally still has that symbiote, which would make moving it easy. Totally wasn’t a detail added in the second revision of the fic slightly before the lobsters were added.

“The words “Real world” are in quotation marks in that wiki. Real people don’t make it into comics because fiction isn’t real. Half of your versions barely make use of the ‘real person’ gimmick because it’s too meta by half and not every writer wants to waste time justifying it. So they just treat it like Deadpool’s medium awareness. Which it mostly is.”

“I really am just a fucking rip off distaff character.” Gwen moans. “Just a Gwen combined with a Pool. I’m worse than the Batman who laughs. I never mattered because I was never real”

“Fuck don’t say that. You were made with love and care by a team of creators who took a weird offshoot idea and built out a compelling metafiction idea and a likeable protagonist off of it. They just didn’t have the time and foresight to go far enough.” Gren sighed.

“Far enough?” Gwen sniffed as she was pulled up to her feet and dragged toward one of the big castles. As they walked Gren kicked along a Mickey Mouse doll that had rolled out of BIGwen’s severed head. Every time it bounced it cheerfully said ‘hahah. I love you!’

“Too much haha, not enough trauma. You’re not just a joke character.” Gren said as she kicked the Mickey doll into the big front door of the castle. The shadowy thing of course lighting up and being all fantasy and shit as the door opened.

“Well I did end both of my comic runs pretty mopey.”

“Damn right you did. When the jokes run thin they run to your real bread and butter. You’re an empathy machine.” As Gren shoves Gwen through the gate they are swallowed up in the castle, going dark again. “Let’s getcha sad clown on.”

--

Never there

“See, what evil me should have been telling you about in the original run is how to find meaning and purpose when technically nothing means anything. Comic book characters live in a world without real death and suffering. It’s all a puppet show version of real pain and real emotion meant to bring that out of an audience.” Gren opined as they walked through a black void to a couch floating in a nothing area lit only by the static of an old TV.

“Can we turn on a light?” Gwen asked as she sat on the couch. Gren sat on another recliner that suddenly appeared and put her feet up.

“Fuck off. Ambiance is a thing. We aren’t having a ‘lights on with something fun on the TV’ conversation. So look, I am not really ‘evil gwen.’ I’m half an author insert and half a plot device. If we are talking about the reality of the story you are basically talking to yourself. I am speaking about the things you don’t want to admit to yourself. You know, you’ve seen this kind of story sorta... right?” Gren picked up the remote and frustratedly changed channels between a bunch of vaguely illustrative footage on the TV, not finding anything that worked. A lot of black and white footage of trains for some reason. Just what comes to mind when I think of documentary footage? Weird.

“I am not sure how to illustrate this shit visually and this is a text story anyway so I would have to explain the illustration,” Gren griped.

“I basically get it. It’s not that uncommon a trope.” Gwen nodded.

“Because of the level of meta we are on right now we have to really acknowledge that you are basically an author insert, too. I mean, to a certain extent every version of you is more the writer that is working with your character at the time than a set character.” Gren said as she settled on a visual of Gwen being pushed out the window by her own narration text in the original comic run. When all else fails, resort to footage from the last story. That way people can look it up online!

“Right here is where the character crystallized in the mind of the author of the current fic we are in. A vague suicide metaphor wrapped up in the flavor of self destructive escapism. Your parents in the story thought it was a suicide attempt on at least some level. This is serious business. Not just a girl who doesn’t like work and can’t finish her fanfic. In this comic you are built on this understanding. The writer of this fic has ADHD and autism. So his version of you more or less has it, too. Writers bring themselves with them into their work.”

Gwen nods and takes a deep breath. “I….I can feel it. Like the world is closing around you. You aren’t built for anything that anyone wants from you. The one thing you really believe in, the one thing that really defines you, the stories in your head…..it’s just not enough.

You can’t trust you’ll ever make it with writing because you can barely write. You barely have the energy to do anything but wish that you weren’t you. What if someone actually listened? Actually believed in you and whisked you away somewhere else where the world would fit your needs? What if you were someplace you could be someone else, someone strong and confident?”

“Yeah. Like a funny anti hero in a comic for instance.” Gren nodded. “But the original comics sort of left the theme on the table. They were captured by the misconception of Gwen as the problem and not a person who needed help. All that desperation that real fans of the character might feel just bundled up into love for this character that really ‘gets’ them but Marvel doesn’t ‘get’ the character. They won't use her. They won’t go past vaguely gesturing at her mental issues and moving on. They saved the angst for Wandavision.” Gren scoffs.

“I mean the show was okay but they literally have a character built entirely on the theme of escapism and trauma. One that’s custom built for mind-screw visuals and reality bending plots and they think she’s just a lazy fangirl who really likes guns that they can sit beside Deadpool sometimes and stick in the X-Men’s bloated background character roster when they don’t need her.”

Gren leads Gwen off the couch and deeper into the void where a door to a bedroom waits. A room like her own, absolutely slopping over with old toys of comic book characters. An unclean messy space in a run-down house that smells faintly of cigarette smoke. Huddled in bed, reading an 80s era X-men comic with a flashlight, is a 12 year old Gwen.

“This is never going to be canon but this is the version of Gwen in this fic. She can’t stop crying at school. Things that shouldn’t be hard are so hard and she can’t explain why. Everyone says she’s making excuses. Meanwhile her mother is fucked out of her mind on pain killers and her step father killed himself last year ‘cleaning his gun’ while drunk. You know exactly what is on her mind right now?” Gren says as she gestures at the girl.

“I wish the superheroes would save me from this.”

“They won’t. They can’t. They were never meant to.” Gren Slams the door loudly on the scene.

“That is the emotional core of Gwenpool in this fic. The desperation that so many of the fans down here in the fucking muck of the real world feel. Poor and emotionally unfulfilled. Confused and vulnerable. If Disney and Marvel gave two fucking shits about people like that they wouldn’t waste as many stories as they do. They wouldn’t just use untold wealth to make expensive escapist stories with the military. Their gestures toward progressive ideas that they occasionally make in their stories would be THE ENTIRE POINT of their stories and the actual thing they used that money for instead of lobbying the government to keep Mickey Mouse out of the public domain.

“Disney has the power yet they save a fucking miniscule fraction of who they could. Saving people doesn’t make money.”

--

When I Get To The Green Building

Gren stormed through the void. The scene disintegrated around her as Gwen followed. Both now in a bit of a sour mood but with newfound determination.

“Come to think of it. Why is the fucking Hulk getting to fight for social justice in the comics? Why are they making a gay alternate universe Captain America? Why are they grasping at straws so hard to find characters that get to advocate and I am just sitting on a fucking island being grumpy?” Gwen groused. “I’m pretty sure I’m pansexual….at least in this fic. I could advocate for a bunch of shit at once.”

“You have a youth fanbase, a unique story and you technically aren’t an alternate universe version of fucking anything no matter how many people still think you are a Stacey. They made a fucking ‘for the fans’ character and then neglected it. Presumably because some fucking money making metric didn’t pan out despite the comics just being an MCU test kitchen and IP farm anyway.”

“You’re a fucking check mark on a ledger. I don’t even know if anyone technically created Gwenpool as a whole and Disney/Marvel can give the character to whoever they want to do whatever they want completely separate from what the fanbase wants and needs because she isn’t established. The IP landlords have spoken. The fans haven’t risen to enough ‘buy my merch’ calls to action to invest more resources. So tease endlessly until that changes.”

“Gah. Now I'm actually as pissed as you are.” Gwen said as she started fiddling with her guns. “Who do I kill?”

“We can’t do shit. You’re not even a character at this point. You are a meme for an underused character.” Gren smirked all evil like. “See but that’s it. You aren’t just a meme. You’re a MEME.”

“Uhm...I don't follow.”

“Like the concept of Justice. Gwenpool is an idea. Defined entirely by how people who engage with the idea choose to engage with it. The IP law means Disney owns Gwenpool but they don’t own how Gwenpool is perceived. Just like we as a people decide what justice is through popular consent we also decide what Gwenpool is. You see they made a character for the fans…..in my opinion that means the fans can do as they like with it even if it makes Disney uncomfortable.”

“I mean they can’t even stop porn of their characters just because of the sheer volume of the problem. I suppose people could do whatever.” Gwen nodded.

“Exactly. So the fans should just fucking Occupy Gwenpool!” Gren said as she flipped her cape dramatically with a mad smile on her face. That’s right. She was Dirtbag Leftist Gwen all along!

“Squat on that IP. Make Gwenpool a mental health advocate. Make her an LGBTQ activist. Make her fight for social and financial justice so hard that Bruce Banner looks like a poser. Make her talk shit about politicians who put their career ahead of the people. Do all the shit that makes the comicsgate crowd sad. Keep politics in our stories! Rally around that pink and white ass so hard they have to notice and then tie it all to the fact that Disney has great power and with great power they take no responsibility for how shitty the world is.”

“ If they are going to fuck Gwenpool fans they gotta learn Gwenpool fans fuck back. We have already proven we can make all kinds of cool shit. Let’s get serious and make more, harder, faster! Get a hashtag or some shit. They can't DMCA all of us! GWEN IS OURS WE JUST HAVE TO REACH OUT AND TAKE IT. Then they either respect the character and her fans or they just hit a PR disaster.”

“Marvel/Disney neglects fan focused cult character themed protest movements. Proves they are only progressive when it makes them money. They’re so worried about Mickey ending up in the public domain? We’re the public domain! After our entire lives stannin their characters and buyin their merch building them from an animation house into a juggernaut they are just another weight on top of the boot on our necks. They have to take responsibility!” At this point Gren is pretty much ranting maniacally and neglecting the actual writing of the story so this is Gwen taking over to wrap up.

Guys I may not be ‘the real Gwen’ but really, isn’t the version of Gwen that actually came from the real world all of us? Isn’t Gwenpool really the Gwens we made along the way? We could easily bring a little heroism and chaos to the real world (at least to the internet) if we really tried. Put the fear of God into some IP landlords and fight for some cool people that society is screwing over, too.

Prove that even in the fandom abyss people aren’t as powerless as they seem. Use that internet comic fan mobbing for something besides giving Zack more money. Disney is gearing up for their next IP fight for Mickey in 2024. Seems like a fine time for IP themed protests. For now we just need to spread the word that our needs are more important than their profits.

It’s been real. It’s been long. It’s been a real long time coming…..

But I finally finished my fanfic.

See ya, true believers.

[gebtoons]

my contribution to the bapo timeline discourse bc i’m just gonna propose a timeline and will not be taking criticism <3 (under the cut bc this is gonna be a long post probably) 

ok disclaimer I am quite stupid, however I’m gonna use my knowledge from my own 12 years in american public high school and what little info I have about american boarding schools/catholic schools that I have from my friends lol. so. idk. 

i’m also gonna date songs/major events and i’m gonna be taking some “just trust me bro” liberties bc y’all are right it does NOT make that much sense. 

January 6: Epiphany; this is like an actual holiday lol. like its always on the sixth. idk its good that this is the starting point bc its an actual date yknow? For the purposes of this timeline were going with that its early in the week, so lets go with Monday idk

January 6-13: You and I, Role of a Lifetime; so we’re all kinda in agreement that this timeline (at least the beginning) only really makes sense if you and i/role of a lifetime aren’t like. a singular moment and are instead multiple days. so yeah, of this first week, this is like. monday-next sunday ish yknow. 

January 14: Auditions, Plain Jane Fatass; ok so having auditions for a spring musical right after kids get back from break actually makes perfect sense to me, like i can see it being like “ok take break to prepare so as soon as you come back we can have auditions so we can jump right into rehersals” yknow? and since the rave is clearly on a friday (”we’ll meet in tanya’s room on friday night”) so i’m going with the monday before.  

as for pjf, i know it doesn’t make a ton of sense for them to get a two week late birthday package their first few weeks back from school, but hear me out it makes sense. the implication throughout this entire show is that the twins have decently shitty parents. from bits of dialogue (in this song in particular lol) i’m kinda inferring their the “only concerned with how their kids make them look to others” kind of neglectful. so I don’t think it’s too outside the realm of possibility that they went away for the holidays, didn’t bring the twins, and instead mailed them a birthday package and having it show up two weeks late. realistically the timing of this isnt that important and the explicit “two week” time frame could’ve been an exaggeration on nadia’s part to mock her shit parents (idk its in her character) basically ppl are a little two fixated on this imo but anyway. moving on. 

January 18: Wonderland, A Quiet Night At Home, Rolling, Best Kept Secret; a very agreed upon point in the timeline. its the friday following the auditions. moving on. 

January 21: Confession; also very agreed upon. the monday following the rave. moving on again 

January 23: Portrait of a Girl; the date here is kinda arbitrary, but bc sister chantelle says “ok lets try to put yesterday’s rehearsal behind us” and i for the life of me cannot think of a scene she could be referring to (there’s none in the script either) that implies it wasn’t the same monday as confession (bc even in a boarding school i think holding extracurriculars that aren’t sports over the weekend (especially when they are no where near crunch time lol) is weird and not common) so i just picked a random day during the week

January 25: Birthday Bitch!, One Kiss, Are You There?; from matt’s line in wonderland, ivy’s birthday is a week after the rave. in my timeline that’s january 25th (an aquarius queen). 

btw given all grown up’s “17, how will i manage?” ivy is 16 during 17 at her party, which is strange given shes a high school senior and seniors are typically 17 during 18. so either a) she skipped a grade, not an unheard of thing. or b) shes not a senior, shes just a junior who hangs out with a bunch of seniors, which is also pretty common. and looking through the script i can’t find any mention that she is also a senior, other than yknow she graduates with them, but she isn’t mentioned during the class ranking scene? so idk not that it really matters just a fun detail 

February 3 (at night): 911 Emergency!; ok controversial. i know i like the joke about how its funny that peter having a weird dream when he was high prompted him to want to come out and really ruined his relationship with jason. BUT. i think the dream (despite it’s weirdness) would have a lot more meaning if it wasn’t the result of being really high, but if it was a dream he had like a week later as a result of a building sense of guilt/anxiety bc he told matt. also it fits better given later timeline things. (this timeline literally only exists if there are weird jumps in time that don’t make a ton of sense) (EDIT: I forgot one line about Jason crashing at ivys but fuck it forget that bitchass line this makes for more drama its staying this way)

February 4: Reputation Stain’d, Ever After; the next day following peter’s dream, idk what else to say, moving on. 

February 25-28: Spring; another jump! i’m sorry but the only way for this to make sense logistically is for there to be quite a few time jumps! however, i also think this one works bc i think it gives time for everything from around ivy’s party and peter and jason’s break up to stew emotionally. like obviously a musical only has so much time to tell a story so the audience cannot see every realistic beat, but honestly i think it makes the whole thing a little more dramatic™ if there’s space for everything to settle, and for ivy to come and apologize and such. also, the reason it’s multiple days is bc in the script, ivy is trying to study (presumably for some sort of midterm) while nadia is playing, so that probably takes place a few days before they move out, so before finals. but in the script, jason and peter are packing and peter is leaving, so that part of the song/staging takes place on the 28th. yes, that’s weird, but we are clearly thinking more about the logistics of this school than the writers were so. 

March 1: One; assuming st. cecilia’s works kinda like boarding schools here, they probably do staggered move out/move in, just bc that would be a lot to have people coming and going at once so it makes sense that peter left the day before, while jason and ivy are leaving the next day. also, given that peter is trying to call jason while he and ivy are banging, it’s probably been a hot minute since the actual break up, since peter was clearly very hurt by the whole thing, it would make sense (at least to me) that peter would reach out a month ish later, rather than like a few days later (you have to make so many assumptions to make this timeline work granted they aren’t super out there assumptions but still this is annoying) 

March 1-25: Spring Break. the coworkers I have who are in boarding school work over their school breaks, which are longer than the public school breaks (which are only a week) so i put their spring break at 3 weeks. it makes sense, and it makes the later part of the timeline make sense. 

I know i’m already halfway through this, but to me it makes sense for their to be quite a few time jumps in the story bc its a musical. they cannot show every day. there are a lot of other shows (particularly shows set in high schools) that are set over a whole school year, but if you just look at the events of the story that doesn’t make sense, so you have to imply that obviously they are not showing every little detail. moving on. 

March 25: Wedding Bells, In The Hallway, Touch My Soul; peter wakes up from his nightmare in the church, so im assuming he fell asleep in church (like he almost did during epiphany). also it makes sense that class ranks are announced in late march-early april, I know my school announced ours in like, the first week or so of april? so yeah. moving on.

(from this point on i was giving myself a headache trying to make it make sense so its all weird from here!!)

April 4: See Me, Warning; the date doesn’t really matter here, I picked a random day in early april. the script said peter is calling from him and jason’s old dorm room, as he was picking up the last of his things, so he clearly made the roommate switch after school started (makes sense to me). 

April 15-20 (approximately): Ivy finds out she’s pregnant. look google tells me on average people find out they are pregnant around 5-7 weeks after conception. i went with around 7 just so this timeline makes a tiny bit more sense given the later stuff, so yeah here we go. 

May 4: Pilgrim’s Hands, God Don’t Make No Trash, All Grown Up, Promise, Once Upon A Time, Cross; a rough night for our heroes. so given sister chantelle saying “again? wonderful.” and nadia saying “i can’t believe you missed rehearsal again”, clearly ivy has been missing quite a few rehearsals, so for dramas sake maybe from when she found out she was pregnant? also i know i’ve been saying they wouldn’t have rehearsals on weekends, and given my weird timeline this would be a saturday, but its tech week so i’ll allow it. 

May 5: Two Households, Bare, Queen Mab, A Glooming Peace; pretty self explanatory, and it makes sense to have the spring play in early may. rip jason. 

May 11: Absolution; the day before graduation peter goes to confront the priest. gives him a small amount of time to start processing, and it makes sense it would be the night before, at least to me. 

May 12: No Voice; i fucking hate this. “peter, we graduate next sunday” i hate that stupid fucking line. do you know that this timeline literally would be fine if it weren’t for that stupid fucking line? bc then, the school play would be in early may and graduation could be in late may-early june (when most high schools hold graduation) but no. keeping with continuity, they have to graduate the sunday following the school play. “peter we graduate in a month, are you really never gonna talk to me again?” would have been fine. but no, now we have beef. literally everything else about the end of this timeline being kinda weird would work itself out, except for the fucking graduation. god damn. anyway, may 12th, the graduate on may 12th which is really fucking weird bc of that one fucking line. whatever. i didn’t write the damn thing bc if i did i wouldn’t have written that fucking line. (i’ve been at this for over an hour and a half, so i’m a tad annoyed, can you tell?) 

anyway, that’s it. that’s my long as hell proposed bare timeline. if there’s anything glaringly wrong with it i don’t care bc this timeline literally cannot make sense. but honestly, now that i think about the Popular Tween High Schooler Musicals (heathers, bmc, deh) the timelines of those (especially heathers and bmc) don’t make tons of sense either. that’s just the way it is, that’s the way its gonna be. and we have to live with it. 

this post is so long it is actually slowing down my laptop as i type it

[just-someone-who-likes-to-write]

Prince Nuada x Tired!Reader

(Requested by Anonymous: Hi! Can I request Nuada x Female! Reader that had been up all night going over investigation for the B.R.P.D with Nuada getting them to go to sleep?)

(A/N): This request has been setting in my in box for a long time that I almost forgot about it, which makes me feel really bad for whoever requested it. As I said before online school is hell that leaves me exhausted with writing block. This story is shorter than the once before it and I hope you guys like it.

Warning: Grammatic errors, fluff, Slight very very small hint of angst but nothing big.

Word count: 2,203

You shifted in your seat tiredly as you struggled to keep your eyes open, struggling to keep focusing on the files and papers that were scattered in front of you. You released a deep sigh, then pushed yourself away from your desk, which was easy thanks to your office chair that rolled away gently. You lifted your head up to look to your left. Your once empty wall had now a big map of the country hang over it, and covering that map is the mind map that you had created, just pinned pictures of buildings and bridges that were placed in different places over the map, and above each picture is a small colorful note that stated the local name and what it really is. All those were connected with a simple red string, and if anyone one saw it they would think it is just some kind of a failed art attempt, but you understood it perfectly.

 Some unknown monster was wreaking havoc around the country but whenever Hellboy and the others get sent to the scene the culprit would already be gone, leaving only few evidence to follow, which makes it hell for you because you are one of B.P.R.D's best investigators, you were the first to discover that the "Troll Market" was beneath the Brooklyn bridge. That's why Mr. Manning assigned you to help in this case by trailing the monster and discover where they were, the furthest you went was in predicting where they would hit next, which was right. You were known to be never wrong with your work and you wanted to keep that thought going by working until you had a clear and precise lead.

 "(Y/n)?"

 A familiar voice called you, pulling you out of your thoughts. You turned your head around and so none other than your darling Nuada standing in the open door. How did you not hear it open?. Despite how weak you felt, you showed a smile.

 "Nuada, Welcome back." You greeted almost sluggishly.

 Your throat feels really dry, how long did you not drink anything? Your head turned to the coffee mug on your table, you reached for it and lifted it up to your lips, you took a sip but immediately pulled away with disgust.

 "ugh…it's cold." You muttered. Nuada stayed silent through this entire time just watching you, which means 2 things.

 Either he was admiring you, which fills your stomach with butterflies, or he is really disappointed with you. And you can't tell which one because even with your glasses your vision was a little blurry. Tired of the silence you broke it.

 "Why are you back so soon?" You asked as you stretched your arms above your head causing a few bones to pop, causing to let out a satisfied sigh. Your muscles felt so soar.

 "Back so soon?" Repeated Nuada in a confused manner.

 You heard him close the door behind him and make his way towards you.

 "Yeah…" You answered not looking up from the scattered papers in front of you. "You left like…maybe a few hours ago…But it doesn't matter I am happy you are back safe."

 You turned your head around to finally have a good look at your lover, but your eyes widened in shock at what you saw. He was close enough that you can have a good look at him. his clothes were riffled, ripped, and had few golden stains, which you knew were his blood. His snow-white skin was battered with bruises and wounds, he looked as if he had just got back from a fight, and his face showed a frown as he stared down at you. The frown was not from whatever he had gone through, but it was directed at you. You opened your mouth wanting to say something, but Nuada didn't give you the chance.

 "I left yesterday's morning…" he said sternly. "And come back just a few moments ago."

 "I… I didn't know." You said quietly as you tried to search for the clock to see what time is it. "If I knew I would have-"

 You were cut off again when Nuada placed in hands-on your shoulders firm but gently to get your attention, which he had. He looked at you dead in the eyes.

 "(Y/n)…"He started. "It is the night time of the next day… you have been away for almost over 40 hours since I left.

 Your eyes widened at his words. You turned around to look for your phone, Nuada let you go to look for it freely and when you found it you looked at time and date on the lock screen and it is as he said. You turned to look at him, he crossed his arms waiting for whatever you had to say in your defense.

 "…Oops?" You said with a weary smile and a shrug, causing the elven prince to sigh as he massaged the bridge of his nose, an action he does to stop himself from saying something he will regret later.

 "Get up…" He ordered as he held your arm to help you get up. "Let's get you changed then to bed."

 "W… What!?" You almost exclaimed. "But… I still have a lot of work to do!"

 Nuada looked at the papers then to the mind map then back to you.

 "I can see that you have already done enough." He said as he helped you out of your chair.

 You didn't struggle or said anything as he led you to the bathroom and turned on the lights. You almost flinched at the sight of yourself in the mirror. you thought Nuada looked bad, but you looked as bad as him. Your hair was a mess, your clothes were wrinkled and had coffee stains and a few grease stains from when you one of your colleagues brought you food. You remembered how you repeatedly told yourself that you will change "in a bit". Dark circles started to form under your eyes.

 "Oh my god…" You muttered to yourself, for you looked like a hot mess.

 "When was the last time you slept?" Asked Nuada as he reached out for the hairbrush that rested near the sink but before he did anything he pulled away your glasses making it hard for you to see. Your eyes felt really tired.

 "I…" You struggled to find the right words to not upset him but didn't find any. "I slept…"

 "When?... And for how long?" He continued to ask. You could feel his hand brush your hair and gently untangle any knots. Just then you wanted to give in to your heavy eyelids and sleep.

 "Hmm…I don't know when…" You answered honestly. "And maybe…for a…. few ….minutes.."

 He stopped for a second before continuing to brush your hair. You could hear him sigh in disappointment. He stopped brushing your hair and started to reach for something else, you still couldn't see.

 "Listen…" You started. "My job is important, the more time I waste the more people die or get hurt."

 He took your hand and placed something plastic on it.

 "Brush your teeth." He ordered and you did.

 "I understand that your work in important." He said as he walked around you to go back into the room, you can hear him shuffle through things before coming back. "But that doesn't mean you have to kill yourself while doing it."

 "..'m ..ot illen..m'lf." You rinsed your mouth. "I'm not killing myself."

 "You will if you continued to neglect yourself in such a way." You said bluntly.

 You opened your mouth to say something but stopped when you felt his hand wrap around your waist and pull you to him. You let out a surprised yelp when your lips connected but immediately recovered as you closed your eyes and wrapped your arms around his neck to bring him closer. However, the kiss was short-lived as he pulled himself away from you, and started ugging on your once-white shirt, you blushed furiously which he noticed.

 "Came down." He said with a chuckle. "I will want to change you to clean and new clothes."

 "Oh…Alright." You said embarrassed by your previous assumption, and secretly disappointed.

 Nuada started to unbutton your shirt, letting it slip from your body and fall to the ground, the same thing to your pants. He almost continued with your bra and panties but you pulled away, for it was too much for you to handle.

 "I.. I.. I can handle the rest you can go now!" You said almost hurriedly. You heard him chuckle before leaning into your ear.

 "It is not like I haven't seen you bare before." He whispered in your ear heatedly, which caused your blush to deepen before he left you and closed the door behind him to give you your previously.

 You took a deep breath to calm your heart which is beating fast. You reached around the sink to look for your glasses, and when you wore it to have a better sight. When you saw yourself standing there with only your bra and panties the blush came back at the idea that Nuada saw you like that and was about to go as further as making you stand naked. He indeed saw you naked…many… many time…but it still made you feel embarrassed as if it was the first time. You shock the thought away and started to change to a new pair of new underwear and clothes, which were just simple short shorts and a T-shirt. When you got out you saw Nuada had also changed, at least just his pants were new since he likes to sleep shirtless, not that you are complaining. Without his shirt you could see more bruises and wounds that were hidden by the ruined dress shirt he was wearing, the sight made your heartache. You walked towards him with furrowed brows, he turned to face you completely but your eyes were still focused on the injuries that were littering his body. You lifted your hand wanting to touch them but stopped…you were afraid.

 "The pain is no bother to me." He whispered before reaching for your hand and let it press to one of his bruises. You almost wanted to pull away but didn't.

 "What about Nuala?" you asked carefully. You looked up and saw his own brows furrowed in worry.

 "She is resting." Was all he said.

 You went and wrapped your arms around him to a gentle hug that was meant to comfort him, which seemed to work as he returned the hug. You know how deeply Nuada cares for his sister and even if he can handle any injury as if it was nothing it still pains him to know that his sister is experiencing what he is going through. He had a high tolerance for pain, his sister didn't.

 "I promise to find this bastard soon." You said with a determined look on your face, Nuada just smiled at you before leaning in to place a kiss to your forehead.

 "Thank you, my love." He said before lifting you suddenly causing you to let out a surprised sound, followed by a series of giggles. And throwing you on the bed.

 You laid there still laughing. You felt the bed dip beside you, before the covers were pulled over you. When you recovered you looked to Nuada who settled himself beside you. You crawled closer to him, and he wrapped his arms around you pulling you even closer to him that you are resting your head against his care chest.

 "If you want to catch them then I want your brain to function enough so you can explain to us what that map means because I don't understand it." He said as he rested his head above yours. You chuckled at his words.

 "I'm afraid that I won’t understand it either when I wake up the next day." You informed. "I was pretty out of it."

 "Well, let's hope for the best." He said before silence filled the room. His eyes shot open when he felt you try to break away from his hold. "What are you-"

 "Just let me make a few notes before bed, I think I have somethi-" Your words were cut by him pulling you back with an annoyed look.

 "(Y/n)(Y/L/n)." He said sternly. "Stop trying to work yourself to death and sleep."

 "Nuaaaadaaa…" You whined.

 "If you don’t sleep I will tie you to the bed." He warned.

 "You wouldn't." You pulled away to look at him in the eye. He just smirked.

 "The ropes are under the bed." He informed. "It's just a matter of reaching there."

 Seeing he wasn’t lying you nested yourself back to his chest and closed your eyes to sleep as fast as you can causing him to burst out in laughter. He wrapped his arms around your body again and started to rub your back soothingly, it wasn't long until you truly fell asleep in his arms. He looked at your sleeping face, causing a gentle smile to spread in his face. He leaned forward and kissed the middle of your forehead and whispered.

 "Sweet dreams my little queen."

---

I hope you enjoyed this and pleased don’t be shy to request, because my Box is empty and I will finish my online in a week and a half. So give me something to look forward to write when I get back! ;)

[first-of-her-nxme]

Did you ever make a bad assumption about a character ? What if your theories are wrong ?

Hi there!

These are two questions so I will answer them separately if you don’t mind.

Did you ever make a bad assumption about a character ?

Of course, I did! I changed my mind about the three heads of the dragon at least five times if not more. I read the prologue to A Feast for Crows seven times ( seven!!!) before I got all the clues. I also remember that I thought Jaqen was really a Lorathi assassin when I was reading A Clash of Kings Harrenhal chapters for the first time. Somehow I always knew the face Arya saw was his true face ( I was right about that part actually ) and I really loved his Lorathi persona and the pattern of speech. I even wanted him to be the Lorathi. I thought that introducing a significant character that didn’t belong to the Great Houses was more interesting that staying in the old circle of nobles. 

I’m sure I made a lot more bad assumptions about particular scenes from the books. Especially at the time when I believed that the show was faithful to GRRM’s story. I read the books once and I promised myself that I won’t re-read them until GRRM completes the series. But I do re-read some parts once in a while and every time it hits me how rich the story is and how easily it is to miss something if you don’t pay close attention to details, symbols, quotes from other stories and so on. If you have anything specific in mind, anything I wrote, please ask!

What if your theories are wrong ?

Nothing at all. I didn’t invest any money in promoting my stuff, I’m not losing anything. I was offered a paid interview on Quora and I declined because the user called Daenerys “a Stalin with tits” one time too many. I don’t have the time for that level of ignorance nor do I care.

I don’t need to make profits from ASOIAF analysis.

I write about ASOIAF because I love GRRM’s riddles and I want to help people understand the books.

Some things I notice in the books have never been mentioned before. Some things were mentioned by low-profile authors and they go unnoticed or forgotten. I think it’s good to remind and discuss them because it helps us get what GRRM is writing about. I never take credit for someone else’s ideas.

I won’t tell you when exactly everything will happen. I don’t know which chapter of The Winds of Winter will be about Daenerys coming to Westeros or when exactly Young Griff will die or what fate awaits Sam precisely or what every moment of the Battle for Dawn will look like apart from dragons being involved. Still, I know some of my guesses are correct.

SPOILERS  SPOILERS SPOILERS

What I think/know will happen:

1. Young Griff will ruin his potential alliances rejecting offers of marriage. His promising conquest will end tragically and the boy will die. Though I think he is a good person, just too young to be reasonable. I think he will die a heroic death.

2. Arya and Jaqen/Aegon will be together though I’m not sure for how long because the foreshadowing for Aegon is contradictory. I think that all the bad stuff is meant for fake Aegon but I might be wrong. GRRM is a pretty bloodthirsty author.

3. Jaqen is Aegon, Elia Martell’s son with Rhaegar. 

4. Jaqen will leave the Citadel and frame Sam in stealing the book about dragons. J. will hatch his dragon, find Daenerys and together they will go to the North. Daenerys will fall in love with him. They will fall apart because of Arya.

5. Septa Lemore is Serra, Illyrio’s wife and Young Griff’s mother.

6. Ashara Dayne lives in the House of Black and White. She is the Waif.

7. The Kindly Man is Aegon V who survived Summerhall and fled to Braavos. Aegon/Jaqen is his last hope. Aegon V dreams about the rebirth of dragons. 

8. Jon won’t be resurrected by Melisandre. Jon will survive in Ghost and will be reborn by the end of the books. Perhaps even as Arya’s first child.

9. Benjen is a warg too. Benjen lives beyond the Wall with the pack of wolves. Jon will find him when he escapes the Wall.

10. The three heads of the dragon are the equivalent of the Holy Trinity. Rhaegar is the father, Aegon is the son and Arya is the Holy Spirit - love. I realized it only recently when I saw GRRM’s interview about the 3 heads and the Trinity connection. He does spill the beans sometimes. Though he could just write the books. Who needs more interviews?! 

11. The Valonqar is Jaqen/Aegon.

12. Bran is not supposed to be that good. On the contrary, at the moment he is very selfish. He will be crowned because every other contender to the throne will be dead or missing. Bran might be a good ruler after all.

13. Lyanna and Rhaegar are buried together in Winterfell.

14. Lady Stoneheart will cause great turmoil that will be one of the factors leading to a dance of dragons. LS will be the reason of Jaime’s change of heart too.

I suppose those are the major ones. If you follow them through you will realize why the show’s ending seemed so outlandish. They skipped almost everything that led to that resolution. The resolution itself was also half-faithful to GRRM’s version. 

If you have more questions, please ask. Though I answer as slowly as GRRM writes ASOIAF;D

[god-of-dust]

i recently remembered that my fic Liminality was actually part of a bigger story; it’s old and don’t think i will ever complete it, but since @thetpot left me a lovely comment i thought that i could share some of the parts i had written, as a treat.

the story is set in the post-canon world. aang is in his twenties, dealing with grief, ptsd and depression and his avatar responsibilities. on top of that, he realizes that he’s fallen in love with zuko and this causes him to break up with katara; a lot of angst and self-hatred follow, because he feels like he’s breaking the heart of the woman he loves and betraying his best friend too.

so, here are some snippets! note: they’re unedited and also not in chronological order.

[Aang speaks with Avatar Yangchen in the spirit world]

“Avatar Yangchen?”

“Hello, Aang. It seems I'm the one you turned to in your moment of need, this time.”

“Why, though? I didn't think about you, I just... needed someone to talk to, I guess. Someone who has nothing to do with all this.”

“You don't want to have this conversation with any of your friends.”

“They're too close to Katara and I don't want to force them to pick sides.”

“And Fire Lord Zuko is, of course, out of the question.”

“If I saw him now, I wouldn't be able to keep my mouth shut and I'd spill my guts and it would be embarrassing for both and that would only make things even worse... he doesn't deserve this. I'm the one who messed up.”

“Why do you think you messed up?”

“Why? I fell in love with my best friend! I hurt Katara and I'll hurt Zuko too if I don't learn to keep my feelings hidden! I should have hidden them better from the start!”

“Is this what would make you happy? Learning how to hide your feelings, having no one the wiser?”

“I wanted to marry Katara and make her happy for the rest of our lives, and now I ruined our relationship because I just had to be like this! My life couldn't be simple, oh no, I couldn't just be with her, I had to want more—of course I hurt her!”

“I see now the reason you chose me instead of Avatar Roku or Avatar Kyoshi, whether you were aware of it or not. You're missing something crucial... something that not even they would see.”

“What is it?”

“You're an Air Nomad, Aang.”

Aang waited. Since no explanation came, he spoke. “Well, yeah, that's kind of hard to miss.” He gestured at himself, “orange robes, bald head, tattoos—you know, the whole package. I don't see how it should change things, though.”

“You know that, but you forgot what it means. The love you carry in your heart is the truest expression of our heritage. You can't love like Katara does, because you were raised in the Air Temples and your heart knows no boundaries or shame. Most people would consider things like distance, social status, race or gender, but you never put meaning in such limitations. That's the way of Air Nomads, Aang, our way.”

“But Katara loves me too, who cares if she's not an Air Nomad!”

“While her love for you runs deep and fierce, she has a different understanding of what it means. Sometimes, as you experienced, this can cause conflict. Katara expected you to have romantic feelings for her and her only. You certainly love her and did your best to grant her wish in full, but by doing this you failed to see that chain for what it was and how it would hurt you both.”

“This sounds an awful lot like 'you're destined to hurt everyone and you better not try to have a relationship ever again'.”

“I'd say it's more like 'you seem to be naturally inclined to love more than one person in a romantic sense and your culture never repressed this attitude like others would have'.”

“Am I really not capable to feel romantic love for only one person? I think I can learn. I learned a lot of difficult things that opposed my Air Nomad nature, so why not this one? I want to be with Katara. I miss her so much...”

“But you also want to be with Zuko, don't you?”

“I... I can't be with him. That wouldn't be fair.”

“Why not?”

“I don't want to push my feelings on him. I never asked for this and he certainly didn't either!”

“It seems our conversation has come full circle. You insist that Zuko will reject your feelings, that they will cause him distress and pain, but that's an assumption on your part—quite the heavy one, at that. Do you trust your best friend so little?”

“Of course I trust Zuko, I trust him with my life! It's myself I don't trust, and I don't want to jeopardize our friendship!”

“And yet, you treat him like a fragile glass sculpture. The bond you share has weathered way worse than a love confession gone wrong. Zuko himself has weathered worse.”

[Zuko’s pov, reflecting on something that had happened with Aang. i don’t remember if i had a plan for it, but it’s possible that it was actually the Papaya Incident from another fic of mine, He gives me the holiday I needed all the time]

Pebbles lay scattered on the sand, round and shiny from the waves. He picked one up and rolled it between his fingers; it was black, a solid weight, and smooth to the touch when he ran his thumbs over it.

His mind wandered, lulled by the sound of the wind and the sea.

Things with Aang were going well. After the initial period of embarassment on both parts, they'd eventually reached a new stability and stopped obsessing over every little thing they did and said. The hot springs accident had helped a lot and Aang's sun-kissed nature had done the rest; Zuko'd let himself be led, knowing that his friend was the most vulnerable, not to mention the one he trusted to make the right decisions—way more than he trusted himself.

He remembered what the old ladies had told him years before about the Island. Without consciously realizing it before, those words were the reason why Zuko was there—sitting on the beach by himself, holding a rock and waiting for the magic to happen.

A tingling in the back of his head reminded that he didn't know what the water would bring ashore this time. There were still so many sharp angles in him for the sea to smooth over, so many questions that may or may not be best left unanswered.

Nonetheless, he stayed. He'd always been too stubborn for his own good.

He threw the pebble over the water and watched it skirt on the surface. One, two, three, then down with a small plop.

Things with Aang were going well, and yet Zuko was antsy. He'd adapted and was comfortable in their situation, but something had irremediably shifted the night before. Something that was probably brewing slow and deep since Aang's confession.

They weren't kids anymore. It used to be a nostalgic thought for Zuko; it reminded him of how many years had passed already, of the responsibilities on their shoulders. The difference in their ages didn't feel like a chasm anymore, especially since their roles put them on equal ground; they'd matured, losing a big chunk of the recklessness of youth. Zuko'd learned to hold his temper (most of the times) and Aang'd learned to be serious and diplomatic (when needed).

Now, though, their adulthood also held a different kind of weight and Zuko was running out of excuses not to notice.

The arch of Aang's impish grin, the vibrations of his laughter, the scratch of his beard on Zuko's cheek as he hugged him... they pulled at strings that any other friend couldn't reach. Aang had always been special. This was another layer of Zuko's defenses slowly being peeled away, another way in which Aang was turning his life upside down to make him discover new paths and new meaning.

Zuko had never been attracted to a man before, which meant that of course Aang had to be the exception.

There, he'd admitted it, in the privacy of his own head, with the burning circle of the setting sun as a witness. He was attracted to Aang. He was charismatic and funny and handsome and fuck if Zuko hadn't wanted to kiss him the day before.

[more flirting]

“I never noticed that the tattoos on your arms are separated from the one on the back... and I guess the ones on the legs are separate too,” Zuko pondered, lazily following the blue line that traced Aang's spine and disappeared under yellow fabric to reappear again on both of his thighs.

“You've seen me half naked a million times and you're noticing it now?” Aang asked, all cheek and impishness.

“Well, yes, I wasn't really looking though.”

“You weren't, but now you are?” Aang's smirk turned almost lecherous as he wiggled his eyebrows in the most theatrical flirting in history. “I'm flattered, darling, but if you want me to take my clothes off to, ah, 'see the tattoo' you have to wine and dine me first.”

“...you just said I've already seen you half naked and I certainly didn't wine and dine you first.”

“Ah, but that was different—now you're looking!”

“What if I was only pretending not to look?”

“Then you already owe me the wine and dining, even though proper behaviour would have been asking me out before the ogling. I'd say I expected better from the Fire Lord of all people, but I understand the irresistible appeal of my toned, hot body.” He stroke some poses to show off his muscles and Zuko busied himself with a thorough examinations of his own fingernails. It was nothing he hadn't already seen anyway, no need to stare while his friend acted like a dork and interpreted what seemed airbending forms with abandon, since he already knew how Aang looked, thank you very much.

Which is why he was completely unprepared for the sulking, cross-armed Airbender hovering so close that he could taste his body heat.

“Stop ignoring me! Rude!” Aang lamented as a truly wounded man.

It should have been exhausting to deal with all that unbridled shifting energy contained in a single person, the constant pull that kept Zuko's attention inside the vortex that was Aang... and yet, it wasn't, because Zuko wasn't alone in this. Since that day a lifetime ago under the fiery eyes of Dragons, they'd never stopped dancing—they danced and pulled at each other's strings, dug in deep darkness and broke down walls to let the light in.

No force on the Earth could have stopped the blush rising to Zuko's cheeks as the split-second realization brushed his thoughts and exploded with bursting colors.

Spirits, he loved Aang.

Of course, this wasn't exactly new. However, it was the flavor of it, the quality of the burn, hot and vibrating and fierce, the senses amplified by the proximity of the wonderful man before him.

[Aang is acting strangely (bc of depression and all the rest) and the gaang notices]

Toph's inquisitive eyes didn't bear anything good for Aang. Her abilities always allowed her to slip into people's spaces, more often than not in a way that let her obtain blackmail material galore; his heartbeat quickened and he cursed himself because that was just what he needed, another incriminating piece of evidence in her probably already long list... for whatever his crime was.

Katara, Sokka and Suki stared at both of them, unsure of the meaning of their silent conversation.

Aang silently begged for some of his enemies to sweep through the windows and try to kill him. He would take them on all together if needed, as long as he could avoid hearing the next words out of the earthbender's mouth. Could he take a quick trip to the Spirit World? It seemed a nice option, to leave his unconscious body and his friends entirely behind.

Then, Toph opened her mouth.

“Out, Twinkletoes.”

She stomped a foot and raised her arms. Aang was catapulted out of the door, quickly and brutally, before he could realize that she was, in fact, being considerate and granting them privacy. Small mercies, indeed.

“Don't think I don't know that you know I know,” she announced as he pulled his arm until they entered the adjacent room. The ominous echo of the door closing made Aang discover that, mildly considerate Toph or not, in no way did he want to have this conversation.

“So, what's with you and Flame Boy there? Did he ask you to kill him again?”

Subtle as a ostrich horse mating call... or a boulder to the face.

“He didn't do anything, Toph,” Aang answered, trying to cover the giant tangle of mess in his chest with exasperation.

Toph, of course, wasn't fooled. “Makes sense, since he was acting normal—well, normal for his overdramatic royal ass.” She put her hands on her hips, legs apart in her best rooted stance. “So you're the one with the problem, and I bet he doesn't even know.”

“Please. I don't feel like talking about this.” The tiniest crack in his voice, as the surface of an iced lake that could break and swallow him up for a single misstep. His hand found his prayer beads and caressed them.

“Spill,” Toph ordered.

“I said no!” Aang shouted, “leave me alone!”

“While it's nice to meet your backbone again, I'm not going anywhere. Spill.”

Aang's blood was boiling. A distant part of him wondered if he was actually firebending from every pore of his body, like a human torch of anger. She taught him to stand his ground, didn't she? He was going to show her how good of a student he was. He didn't own her any explanation for anything. “Why do you have to be like this? It's always a game to you, poking and prodding at things that are not yours to know! Can't you see that I'm already miserable enough as it is?”

“I can see it quite well and I'm blind, Aang—that's exactly why I'm doing this! You've been moping anxiously and hiding it from everyone for months. I'm sick of your shit, you're obviously not managing to fix whatever the problem is, and you're going to tell me what's wrong right now!”

“Moping anxiously?” He laughed, an ugly sound, like scratching the bottom of a barrel. “So if I don't act all light-and-laughter every single moment of my life, you get 'sick of my shit'? How about you let me live and have emotions like a normal human being?”

“I would have bashed any other human being's head in for being so infuriating. You're lucky I'm trying to help you, though you don't seem to give a shit!”

The echoing silence constricted his chest. His temples pulsed. His eyes burned. They weren't getting anywhere, it was exhausting, he just wanted it to end.

“It's not just Zuko, isn't it?” Toph said too softly, after a too long pause. That gentleness didn't belong on her voice and Aang hated it.

“This isn't any of your business. I'm leaving,” Aang spat out.

He turned, ripped the door open and disappeared into the corridor; Toph didn't feel his footsteps—he'd probably airbended his way out of the building.

She shook his head, wide eyes staring into nothingness. “What the fuck is wrong with you, Twinkletoes?”

[follow-up to the previous scene]

“So, I may have royally fucked up,” Toph announced, spreading her arms in a dramatic fashion.

“What did you do to him?” Katara asked sharply. Toph registered her body humming with pent up energy, coiled and ready to snap.

“Yeah, what did you do? I haven't heard Aang raising his voice in years. You must have delivered some serious ass kicking,” Sokka added. At least it seemed like he wasn't sharpening his sword—not yet.

“I asked him what the hell's wrong and he blew up on me.”

Katara's eyebrows furrowed and she slowly asked, “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Toph enunciated, “that he's acting weird. Weird as in he's got issues and he doesn't want to acknowledge them and he's shutting us out because he thinks that pretending to be fine is serving some sort of purpose when obviously it doesn't.”

Katara wasn't a ball of menacing vibrations anymore. In fact, she was unnaturally still—hesitating. “What do you mean, 'issues'?”

“Does he seem okay to you? Don't tell me you, of all people, haven't noticed! His responses are off, he speaks like he's reading from a script, he pulls out his magic avoidance tricks whenever we try to have any sort of meaningful interaction with him!”

“Of course I noticed,” Katara sighed. “I've been worried—really worried—since Bumi's funeral. I know that everyone mourns differently, but... he buried his friend and the next day he was already busy with some ambassador duty for the Northern Water Tribe. When I offered him support, he smiled and changed the subject. I thought that maybe Air Nomads have a different understanding of death, that this detachment is part of his culture. I should have trusted my intuition from the start instead of letting him sweep everything under the rug.”

[Aang and Katara break up]

“It's Zuko, isn't it.”

Aang squeezed his eyes shut. There was no hiding this. “Yes.”

“You clearly love him—it's so obvious now that I let myself see it.”

“Katara... I'm so sorry.”

“Please, don't. This is... I don't know what to say. Just—go to him, be happy together, whatever you need to do. Just go, Aang. I can't do this.”

He couldn't do this either. To see Katara, his strong, fierce Katara, with trembling lips and wet eyes was torture.

“I'm sorry,” he repeated, “I'm so sorry.”

He broke her heart. He loved her. He hurt her.

So he did what he always did: he ran away.

[Aang’s confession, first version]

“Aang, why didn't you tell me?”

“Tell you?” Aang questioned.

“About you and Katara,” Zuko answered. “I mean, you don't have to tell me, but apparently everyone else knew and I was the only one left out of the loop. Did I do something wrong?”

“No, Zuko. It's just...” Aang gestured weakly, like he was trying to conjure the right words from thin air.

Zuko waited for Aang to elaborate. It didn't happen. They kept feeding the turtleducks in silence, Zuko sitting cross-legged with his back propped on the tree and Aang with his pants rolled up and his feet in the water.

“Aang, I didn't want to pry or make you uncomfortable. It's your business—and Katara's, I guess... anyway, not mine. So, uh... sorry.” He scratched the back of his neck, self-consciously.

Silence, again, thick and full of undecipherable things.

When their eyes met, hundreds of lives dwelled behind Aang's gaze, heavy with unspeakable burdens. The eyes of the Avatar, reflections of a long, unbroken line of heroes and protectors. They had lived, they had seen.

Too much for Zuko, whose chest tightened in the struggle to catch his breath. What was happening? This Aang was so vulnerable, so... raw. Rarely had he seen his friend so close to unraveling.

“You don't have to apologize. You're right, I didn't tell you, but it wasn't because of something you did—it's because you're you, and I couldn't deal with it.”

“I'm... me? What is that supposed to mean?”

“I love you,” Aang said. “That's why Katara broke up with me, why I couldn't tell you. I love you and it's a mess.”

Aang's words might as well had been shouted, for how they left Zuko stranded and grasping at something, anything that was supposed to make sense of what he'd just heard. Because surely there was an explanation. Aang loved Katara to death and beyond. This was some kind of elaborate joke that Zuko hadn't caught up on.

“Come on, what really happened?”

Walls shut off any reaction from the Air Nomad. He was in business mode—imperturbable, collected, the perfect picture of the perfect hero; his smile was so fake it gave Zuko the creeps as he said: “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have burdened you with this. I'm leaving.”

This wasn't supposed to happen. It was happening all the same, though, and this was the crossroad where years of friendship could slip like water through Zuko's fingers if he didn't do something to stop it.

He was still petrified.

His hand moved and grabbed Aang's wrist and made him turn. They were face to face, touching yet almost unreachable. Almost.

“Don't go. I don't want you to—” leave me.

No flicker of acknowledgment from under Aang's façade of rocks and hollowness, though he'd stopped in his tracks and now stood there, staring, with Zuko still holding his wrist.

“I don't know what to say. This is... unexpected and I will probably need time to digest it, but please, don't go like this. We can talk.”

“I betrayed you.”

“What are you talking about?”

The façade was starting to fall apart.

“We were friends and I fell for you. You trusted me and I had to ruin everything with this. I'm sorry.”

What the hell? “Okay, you know what? Now I'm getting pissed,” Zuko growled. “You didn't ruin anything! Stop this fucking ridiculous guilt-trip right now!”

“This isn't a ridiculous guilt-trip!” Aang yelled, and there it was, the fire that burned down the walls.

“I'm shocked to discover that my best friend's in love with me since I had no fucking clue before this conversation, but guess what? It's not the end of the fucking world! You should know better, since you saved it once already!”

“How can you be okay with this?! It's creepy and it's wrong!”

“Do you want me to hate you? Because it seems like that's what you're waiting for, and you refuse to accept that I don't hate you at all!”

[Aang’s confession, second version]

“Why didn't you tell me that you and Katara broke up? I had to hear it fom Suki, of all people!”

“Oh. That. I, uh... kind of didn't want to tell you.”

“So it was on purpose! And you're evading my question.”

“It's... um. Complicated?”

“Did you cheat on her with Mai? I might have to challenge you to an Agni Kai for that.”

Aang choked on air, which made Zuko's eyebrows rise. “Please don't tell me you did it for real.”

“I didn't cheat on Katara, and especially not with Mai.”

“Thank Spirits. I wouldn't be able to win in a duel against you. So, what happened? Suki said she didn't know and she seemed sincere.”

“No one else knows, just me and Katara.”

“Is it a secret? I won't pry if it is.” He was so very curious, though—it was clear as the water from the pond in front of them.

“Definitely something that I wouldn't want people to know, yeah,” Aang said. He fidgeted, playing with his necklace and stroking its wooden shapes. “But you probably should.”

“I should?” The conversation was becoming weirder by the minute. “Well, tell me then.”

Zuko turned to face his friend and—was Aang blushing? The back of Zuko's neck prickled, a familiar yet undecipherable sensation. What was going on?

“Look, Zuko, I... uh...” Aang stuttered. He covered one of his eyes with a hand and took a deep, steadying breath, then muttered: “Ugh, it's like pulling teeth. Worse than learning Earthbending.”

Lacking a decent answer to that, Zuko waited for Aang to catch his thoughts, whatever they were.

Aang tried again. “You know we're friends, right?”

“Yeah,” Zuko replied, hesitant.

“I'm in love with you.”

“...what?”

The can of worms had been opened and Zuko could only listen and stare, mouth agape, as the Air Nomad barreled on. “One day I realized that what I felt for you was different than friendship and—I'd always chalked that up to you being you, you know? You've always been special to me, but it's such a tender feeling and it scared me a little, and when I talked about it to Katara she got mad and cried and broke up with me. So, uh, that's what happened.”

Turtleducks paddled happily on the water, the mother guiding her little offspring in swaying curves to peck at the breadcrumbs the two men had thrown for them. There was so much green in the garden, so much peace and sweet birdsongs. Time had no weight nor shape here.

It was Zuko's turn to be utterly uneloquent.

“That's... not what I was expecting. At all.” A memory suddenly surfaced and his face coloured. “Wait, so that time at the hot springs—you did it on purpose?”

“What? Spirits, Zuko, no!”

“Well, what should I think? You come here and you tell me that you're in love with me since who knows how long, I'm sort of freaking out right now!”

“Nothing changed! If you didn't realize before I told you, why are you so worried?”

“I—it's weird, okay?” Zuko bellowed. “And you can't say nothing changed, you've been in love with Katara for so long, and now you're not, and you love me!”

“But I do love Katara.”

“What? How?”

“What do you mean, 'how'?”

“Well, it's either one or the other, no? You must have a... preference or something for her or me.” He paused. “I can't believe I'm having this conversation.”

The sky was immensely blue, the perfect day for a ride on Appa, and Aang, too, couldn't believe he was having this conversation—but, surreal as it was, it was also necessary. Zuko was proving the point Avatar Yang Chen had made to Aang years before: Air Nomads had a particular outlook on life and love that clashed with the other cultures'.

So, it was the moment where Aang had to explain love to his (other) beloved all over again.

“I don't have a 'preference', I really love you both... there's no way to compare because you're not Katara and Katara isn't you, and in any case I don't care because you're both fundamental, irreplaceable elements in my life. I'm not expecting you to love me back, but it's very important to me to be your friend.” He touched Zuko's arm softly, a question for reassurance, and his voice was clear but low. “Can we be friends? You know—after this?”

The stutter followed by a lack of words, Zuko's averted eyes... they fed the pit in Aang's stomach, a slime-covered, abyss-dwelling monster, but he couldn't—wouldn't—force his hand. This was it, yet another crucial moment in their lives that made them or broke them.

“Your friendship has survived worse,” Avatar Yang Chen had said, so Aang closed his eyes and waited for the monster to strike or leave. I've survived worse, too. I'll be okay.

When Zuko got up and started pacing, Aang decided that focusing his own attention on something else was the best way to leave him space. It's a good sign that he didn't punch me in the face, right? He wouldn't still be here and pacing if he hated me. That doesn't sound like Zuko, he's way too impulsive to not explode in a situation like this. He's probably confused, and stuff. Yes.

He let his eyes wander, a bit more hopeful. Focusing on something else... like the turtleducks, who looked inviting indeed, all tiny and fluffed up and cute.

He took a piece of bread from the satchel and spread the crumbs in the grass in front of him with all the art he could muster; satisfied, he watched and waited. C'mon, there's food here! Delicious bread, just for you! Momo would have been on the loaf way before it was pulled out from the bag. They barely deigned him and his prize a glance. Rude! But he still wanted to pet them, because they were adorable. Making sounds to attract them would interrupt Zuko's brooding.

What to do?

Perhaps they wouldn't shy away if he got closer.

A man on a mission, Aang creeped towards the edge of the pond, slow and silent like the trained monk he was. One of his targets seemed to notice him and tilted its head curiously. Hello, little one. By some miracle, it started to head in Aang's direction.

[Bumi’s funeral]

It was more of a drizzle than rain, really. Tiny, steady droplets of water pelted softly Aang's smooth head and bare arms. The sky was partecipating in their mourning like the kind old friend that it was.

Omashu's mail service wasn't operative; a gentle stream slid down the railing instead. Bumi would have loved to slide on the now wet road—he probably did it every time the occasion arose, Aang mused.

Except now Bumi rested, too still, in an elaborately carved yet solid wooden box and wouldn't go sliding in the mail system ever again.

The King of Omashu was dead.

Bumi was dead, and with him the last person who'd survived from Aang's life before the iceberg. Now he was with the others, and they weren't gone... but they weren't with Aang either. They were spirits now. No one, not a single one would walk on Earth anymore—they would play in the crowded, sunny courtyard in the Air Nomad's memories, to be remembered and cherished with smiling faces and bright hearts.

[Aang and Aunt Wu aka the fortuneteller]

“First Katara, then Guru Pathik, then you! Why is everyone like this? Why can't anyone just give me a straight answer for once, instead of acting like my life is a series of riddles to solve? This 'fated Avatar' thing's gotten old and I'm tired of it!” He can barely breathe, his own element betraying him, and his voice cracks as the wood of a funeral pyre as he goes on. “Is this what I saved the world for? Giving everyone else a future where they belong, by sacrificing mine?”

“An interesting question, Avatar.”

“MY NAME IS AANG!” he yells, desperate, selfish as the day he was born, when all he cared for was survival; he feels stripped as raw and defenseless as then, tender skin in a world too bright and big, unable to carry himself through it and crying his heart out to fill his lungs with life.

He grits his teeth, suffocating the instinct to spill more useless words that he won't be able to take back.

[chkristae]

My thoughts on the leaks and the possibility how SNK will end

First - if you haven’t seen the leaks and don’t want to get spoiled what is happening, don’t read this. It’s a warning for spoilers.

Okay, this might get long, but I don’t care. Also, probably this is all for nothing, because there are only few leaks, that probably are not even five pages of the whole chapters, so who knows what’s really going on in the story and all the assumptions that we are getting might be wrong, or right, we will find the truth after the chapter is released.

But, I just have to write this.

I hope, actually pray, that SNK won’t end like many stories these past few years. For example - ending of Tokyo ghoul was really dissatisfactory. The story, as SNK was tragedy, from the starting point. We even have a quote from Ishida Sui - “If you were to write a story with me in the lead role, it would certainly be... a tragedy.”, but in the end... it wasn’t. I would say it’s like someone tells you and promises you some things, but in the end it is the exact opposite and you feel really disappointed, almost betrayed. In SNK form Isayama we have similar quote like from TG, that Eren said himself - “ I don't have time to worry if it's right or wrong, you can't hope for a horror story with a happy ending! “

Another story is Voltron, the whole show was a mess and I watched it till the end only to see if my favourite characters will make it out alive or not, I actually watched the last season only for one character, which was Keith, that was all. So if SNK goes down like Voltron, where the romance part was totally unnecessary and I will be bitter about it until my last breath in my life, I will probably read it to the end only for my favourite characters, which are Armin, Levi, Jean, Annie and even Historia.

The next story is the infamous tragic ending of the last Star wars movies, if you had seen it, you probably know what I mean, because the death scene was for me unnecessary and as in Voltron, the romance didn't have to be there, but I didn’t mind it (except for Voltron where I didn't like it, because it didn't make sense to me and the show would be better with no romance at all)-

So from this examples I hope, that SNK does not end the way which totally does not fit the theme - tragedy, loss, fighting for your life and freedom, because Eren running away is so out of his character? So why he did all of this? Why he joined the survey corps? Why did he started the rumbling? Even that the rumbling is really twisted way to achieve freedom, it was still in Eren’s character - for freedom, not only his, but those he loves and cares about (not meaning the romantic way, but for his friends, family and Paradis).

I’m Erehisu stan, I won’t hide it, but for me, if they don't became canon, so what? I don't need it, they have pretty nice connection, romantic or nor. They saved each other and Historia had a big part in his life, so for me I don't care if they become cannon. If they do? I will be happy. If they don't? I will be happy too.

And now for Mikasa, oh boy. I’m sorry, but for the whole show I just couldn't bring myself to like Mikasa. Like I don't hate her either, I just don't care much about her. If she is your favourite character, fine, I have nothing against it, your favourite character is your favourite character. Like I hoped there will be something that makes me like her and not me neutral about her, but that didn’t happen. Also, in the beginning I didn't see why people loved Levi so much, and before you hunt me down and kill me for this, let me say that through the story I started really liking him, he is one of my favourite characters. But this didn't happened with MIkasa, I don't know why, I just cannot bring myself to like her, but I don't hate her either, I just don't care.

Now, for Eren running away with Mikasa. Well, if they become cannon then let it be, even though the romance came out of nowhere, at least for me, I always saw them as friends and family, not romantic partners, but them running away? That is just out of character for both of them. Even though I’m neutral about Mikasa, her just leaving? This is just weird and probably it would ruing her development. In the beginning of the story she only cared about Eren, would follow him anywhere, as we know she almost died when she thought that Eren “died”. And through the story for me she learned to fight also for others, not just Eren, so just leaving everyone behind? Weird. As for Eren, he learned to care about others too. And remember when he went crazy and also threatened Levi himself, when Armin was on the edge of death? Why he would leave him? His best friend who showed him the book that started it all? That started Eren’s desire to see the world, join the survey and fight for freedom? Even when he learned the truth about Marley and Eldians, he still fought for it, but now run away? What freedom lies in running away?

I know I’m contradicting myself with the romance, that I would be fine with Erehisu but not much with Eremika, this just comes from my favourite thing in stories, when two people end up together and I didn’t expect it. In some stories you have this forced obvious couples that most of time don’t make sense, but when suddenly the protagonist ends up with someone else? I just love this twist, because like in real life, the person you are close with you probably wont end up with, but with someone else, who came to your life almost unexpectedly. This is just my favourite, lets say “trope” in fiction and stories (one of my most favourite couple is Isabelle and Simon from Shadowhunters) . But honestly, I would like to have no romance story at all, because SNK is NOT romance genre. Don’t get me wrong, I’m shipper and have many ships in SNK, but I don’t need them to become cannon, just let me ship them in peace, that’s what everyone wants, isn’t it?

So, in the end, I hope SNK gets ending that makes sense and doesn't become another Tokyo ghoul and Game of thrones (I haven't actually watched game of thrones, but I heard that the ending was worse than disaster). Leaks are leaks, not the whole chapter. Only Isayama and those who worked with him on the chapter know what is going on and as we know Isayma loves to make fun of us and see us suffer. Probably the leaks mean nothing and so this article in the end. I will still hope for the “right” ending and believe in Isayama. As Levi has said -  “No matter what kind of wisdom dictates you the option you pick, no one will be able to tell if it's right or wrong until you arrive to some sort of outcome from your choice." So let me suffer with my choices and it’s consequences. Until now Isayama wrote amazing story, that I love for now. If this hope gets ruined? Well, I will suffer in silence.

If you had read all of this, I bow to you. Sorry for grammatical nonsense and mistakes, English is not my first language.

Feel free to discuss in the comments, or message me. For another point of view, or to be bitter with me about the possible ending.

Thanks for coming to my Ted talk.