#consistent thread in both ‘fake’-world and ‘real’-world | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

oceanselevenism · 5 years ago

Note

If you're still doing them maybe number 12 with both the ocean's siblings and their partners?

hell yeah!! i’ve put it under the cut :)) it is Very Tangentially holiday-sweater-related but it is too long to not post now! hope you enjoy, and happy holidays :))

It’s the first Christmas they’ve spent together in... nearly a decade and a half, actually. The years had flown by, blurring into a mess of run-ins and arguments and you stay on your side, I’ll stay on mine, but hey, Danny can’t fault his sister for wanting to make up for lost time. No, he can’t fault her (after all, if she had been the one to fake her death, he’d probably have moved into her house for a week, just to make sure she didn’t do it again) but he can make fun of her, so that’s what he does. “Aw, you really did miss me,” he says when she gives him and Rusty perfunctory hugs on her way into his house (Lou just claps them both on the shoulder, and he’s not sure whether to feel snubbed or relieved). “I can’t believe my dear sister actually cares,” he tells her when she brings him a mug of cocoa, ingredients nabbed from some billionaire in Germany. “Pure family bonding for the whole family,” he remarks when she goes off on a drunken, expletive-filled tangent about the Met Gala’s security over a game of poker (they’ve given up on trying to enforce the no-cheating rule, and he’s pretty sure Lou takes the opportunity to peek at Debbie’s cards). But in all honesty, he can’t keep up the ribbing; it really is good to see her, even if she definitely gets along better with Rusty (she’s told him as much, and right to his face, too) and the third day ends in a bitter, wine-fueled not-argument about their mother and their father and they themselves. But on the fourth morning Danny gets up early (it’s five in the goddamn morning, why the fuck has Lou already left a note on the counter saying gone on a run) to make latkes, and when Debbie comes downstairs she scoops out a dollop of his favorite sour cream instead of her usual applesauce, so unless her latke preferences have done a complete 180 since the last time he’s seen her, they’ve forgiven each other.

She and Lou volunteer to go on a grocery run that evening, and Danny’s glad; he hasn’t had the chance to jump Rusty’s bones in, like, five days (turns out cleaning up for houseguests takes up way more time than anticipated) (hey, the only people they’ve had over in years have been the crew from the Benedict job, and he’s heard Reuben threaten to shit on Turk’s feet, they don’t need to clean up for them). And for a minute, as Rusty pins him up next to the to-be-composted bag that is currently overflowing with potato scraps, the only thought in his head is the usual why didn’t we do this sooner. But then Rusty pulls back-- “Rus,” Danny complains-- and he tilts his head in that We Need To Talk manner. Which would be hot, if not for the fact that Rusty probably wants to talk about Debbie.

“You’re good, right?”

“We were never on bad terms.”

“Liar.”

“Well, hostile terms, maybe,” Danny amends. “But never bad.”

Rusty shifts, adjusting his forearms so it’s more like they’re just two good pals having a conversation three inches from each others’ faces instead of two good pals about to do very unsanitary things in a kitchen, and says, “I think you’re putting too much water under the bridge.”

“What am I, a Dutch engineer?”

“You’re very funny.”

“I know I am. Now, are we gonna--”

The door opens. Danny swears. “We were gone for twenty minutes,” Debbie says. “Are you that desperate?” Danny regrets going for the open-concept first floor, and he regrets it even more as Rusty pushes himself off with an air of utmost nonchalance.

“Here,” Lou says, lobbing a ball of fabric at Rusty. Her aim is remarkable, and Danny almost asks if she ever played softball before deciding he likes his well-being more than teasing his sister’s motorcycle-riding, brass-knuckle-owning girlfriend. It’s fine; next to him, Rusty huffs an amused laugh at the unsaid comment anyway. “Happy Christmas Eve.”

Rusty unfolds the fabric to reveal a truly hideous (and possibly offensive) Christmas sweater. It’s got red sleeves, a green torso, and a large, colorful fruitcake emblazoned on the stomach. Above it, in red and yellow, is text that reads FRUIT CAKE. “I love it,” Rusty says, pressing his lips together in that way that says he’s trying his damndest not to laugh. “It’s perfect.”

Lou opens her coat to reveal her own sweater, hers saying Ho Ho Homo. “I thought the theme was appropriate.”

“And for you, dearest brother,” Debbie says, pulling an atrociously-colored wad of wool out of a paper bag and chucking it at him, “you get the best of both worlds.”

With a mounting sense of horror, he recalls the year that he insisted on putting teal and orange streamers across the house, because it’s Hanukkah and Christmas mixed! That was the last year their parents had lived in the same house; Danny used to joke that it had been the final nail in the coffin for their mother. He pinches an edge of the cloth between two fingers and lets the rest fall open. It’s a Miami Dolphins holiday sweater. A teal-and-orange, festively-patterned Miami Dolphins sweater. Oh, his Boston-bred father would be frothing at the mouth. “We’re in Canada,” Danny says, equal parts shocked and awed. “How the hell did you get this here so quick? We were supposed to be meeting in Quebec until three days ago--”

“Danny, please learn what priority shipping is,” Debbie says. “Now c’mon. Wear it.”

There’s no way he can back out of this. If he refuses, she’ll just play the I thought you were dead card. He’s never regretted a decision more.

He puts on the sweater. Rusty-- his partner, his right hand, the love of his life-- wolf-whistles.

“I’m divorcing you,” Danny announces.

“Don’t worry,” Lou says with a grin, and is that her phone oh fuck she’s got a picture-- “Debbie, take off your coat.”

With the air of someone who has suffered the weight of the world, Debbie shrugs off her jacket. She’s wearing a matching sweater, and the dolphin on this one has a lovingly-embroidered smiling mouth stitched into it. Danny tries very, very hard not to laugh. “Shut it,” Debbie warns him.

“Oh, I’m not saying a thing,” Danny replies.

“We actually did get groceries,” Lou says, turning back to the door, “so--”

“Lemme give you a hand,” Rusty says. “Let these two bask in the joy of their new sweaters.”

“Fuck off,” Danny and Debbie say in unison. Rusty grins, cheery as ever, and leaves Danny’s side to follow Lou out the door.

“Great gift,” Danny says. “I’ll be laughed at by Reuben for the rest of my days.”

Debbie snorts, walking into the kitchen and rooting around in his cabinets. “Well, actually he’d-- wait, please tell me you didn’t, like, have gross old people se--”

“Shut up, Deborah,” Danny replies, feeling his neck heat up. “I’m only two years older than you. And no.” He refrains from adding on a “not this time.”

“Thank God,” Debbie says, pulling a glass out of the cupboard. “Anyway. Reuben’s not gonna laugh at you, he’s just gonna talk about your embarrassing baby stories in whatever groupchat you people have.”

Danny wonders how his baby sister got to be cooler than him. It’s very distressing. “That’s worse.”

“Yep,” she says, putting the pitcher down and picking her now-full glass up. She leans on the wall across from him, sipping her water, and narrows her eyes at him. “Are we, y’know... good?”

“Why wouldn’t we be?” Danny says. Besides the thirty years of vaguely pretending the other didn’t exist.

“I’m not gonna answer that,” Debbie says. “But... I’d just like to make sure. ‘Cause you’re the only not-completely-insufferable blood relation I have.”

Neither of them say anything for a moment; Danny picks at a loose teal thread, trying to think of how best to phrase the thoughts rattling around in his head. “I don’t hate you,” he finally says. “And I don’t dislike you, either. You’re a pretty good sister. And a great thief.”

“I know,” she replies. “I’m not gonna say it back, ‘cause then you’re gonna get an inflated ego.”

“Works for me,” Danny says, grinning a little.

“I guess it’s just... I mean, I let all the old resentment get in the way of, y’know. Having a decent relationship, personally or professionally.”

Danny nods. He’s still got the scar from the time they both went after the Ruby of the Isle; he’d won, but just barely, and only because he had Rusty and she hadn’t found Lou. But at the end of the day, neither of them have tried to kill the other, and they still did grow up together, playing in Atlantic City casinos and building sand castles under the boardwalk. “I think we’re too old for that now.”

“You’re the old one here,” Debbie replies, no bite in the remark.

“Only two years,” he reminds her. “But I did the same thing as you, letting petty grudges get in the way of family, and for that I’m sorry.”

“I am, too.”

“Thanks, Debs.” He frowns. “They’re taking a really long time to get the groceries, aren’t they?”

As if summoned, the door opens, and Rusty and Lou, each with a measly two bags in their hands, walk in. And Rusty has his phone in his hands. “Rus, I swear--”

“Too late,” Rusty grins, as the shutter sound rings out through the living room. “That outfit has already been immortalized.”

“Have I already said I’m divorcing you? I’m divorcing you.”

“Does it count as fratricide if he’s your brother-in-law?” Debbie asks.

“Disproportionate reactions,” Rusty accuses. “Besides, I’ve already sent it to Linus.”

Danny’s eyes widen. “Not Linus.”

“You heard me.”

His phone vibrates in his pocket. It’s a text from Linus Caldwell himself, consisting of a single thumbs-up emoji and two grinning cats. “You’re all terrible people. Terrible, terrible people.”

(the sweater rusty is wearing is real) (as is lou’s) (and the ocean siblings’)

#oceans 11 #oceans 8 #danny ocean #debbie ocean #rusty ryan #danny x rusty #debbie x lou #lou miller #my writing

35 notes · View notes

ofmythsandfables-a · 4 years ago

Text

Vlad

GENERAL INFO

FULL NAME: Vladislaus Draculea

SPECIES: Human / Vampire

AGE: Verse Dependent

PLACE OF BIRTH: Romania

GENDER AND ORIENTATION: Male / Bisexual

PHYSICAL ATTRIBUTES

HEIGHT: 6′2

HAIR COLOUR: Brown/Black

EYE COLOUR: Green

DISTINGUISHING MARKS: Scar in the middle of his chest from a stake

BACKGROUND INFO

LANGUAGES: Too many to count lol he’s old so he had time to study many languages

OCCUPATION: Verse Dependent

VERSES

SYNOPSIS

{ My variation of Vlad comes from both historical and film (Dracula Untold) influences. Some historical sites vary a bit with information but generally they are all the same in context. }

Vladislaus Draculea was one of three sons of Vlad Dracul II, who ruled the principality Wallachia from 1436-1447. Vlad Dracul II sold his 11 year old son Vlad to the Ottoman Sultan to show his loyalty. As a result, Vlad was forced to fight among other boys his age and older in the armies, trained only to kill and feel no remorse. Though that was the only downside to staying with the Sultan. He was taught various subjects and cared for as if one of their own.

Brainwashed by the Ottomans, Vlad unfortunately became nothing but a cold blooded killer and the most skilled and valued soldier in the Sultan’s armies. Once he was 18 though, he broke away from the Ottomans and returned to his home in Wallachia where he fought for the throne and won, becoming the new Voivode, or Prince, of Wallachia.Vlad ruled in peace for fourteen straight years, ruling with an iron fist and yet was fair. Then Mehmed II, the new Sultan and former comrade of Vlad’s when he was in the Ottomans armies, proposed a deal with Vlad that he give him 1,000 of Wallachia’s boys including his own son, or there would be war. Vlad desperately tried to negotiate, even offering himself in the place of the boys, but Mehmed wouldn’t budge. And so, war was declared.

Knowing he couldn’t win the war on his own and with little men in his army, Vlad sought out a monster of darkness, Caligula, in a cave high in the mountains. For a price, Vlad was turned into the very monster he sought out. The war came to a head on the third day as Vlad swooped in with an army of freshly turned vampires. Thousands of men perished on the fields and Vlad was able to defeat Mehmed and his men. But the price he paid for the victory was great; he lost his loving wife Mirena due to falling off a tower and sacrificing her own blood to Vlad so he could remain a vampire and save their son from the clutches of the evil Sultan. And Ingeras, Vlad’s ten year old boy who witnessed too much for his age, was taken by a fellow friar from Vlad’s old monastery to be kept safe, and would eventually rule Wallachia in his father’s place.

Once Mehmed and his men were defeated, Vlad burned his own army of vampires in the sun’s light, including himself, so that future generations would be kept safe from their harm. But a follower of Vlad’s found him and revived him by giving him his blood, and thought he’d walk eternity with his newfound master. Though, when Vlad was alive once again, his thirst for blood took over and he drained the man completely. It was then that Vlad fled, and for days sought out refuge in the Carpathian Mountains. There, tucked away from the world, was an old abandoned castle where he then made his permanent residence and hid in the shadows for years to come…

VLAD MUSAT (Main/Modern Verse, Aged 32 ; FC: Luke Evans)

Vlad is currently just under 600 years old, and a CEO of his own restoration company, ReVamp Restorations, INC. The company restores old landmarks, buildings and homes, and is expanded globally. He lives in London, England, and has a house in his homeland of Romania which he visits on holiday. Vlad changed his last name to his mother’s maiden name so he would not be recognized. He isn’t usually around others outside of his job, and his quiet time consists of more work due to his need to constantly be occupied.

FROM PRINCE TO BEAST (After the war with Mehmed II)

No longer the voivode for Wallachia, Vlad has hidden away high in the Carpathian Mountains, dwelling in an abandoned and long forgotten castle. Weary travelers or people who have gotten lost on their journeys sought shelter in the castle and Vlad happily took them in, but for a price: that they would serve him forever. They’ve agreed, and happily serve him regardless of knowing what he is and who he once was. His servants are his only real company and Vlad has looked to them as an almost family to him.

HE WHO STILL REIGNS (After the war with Mehmed II, Alternate Ending)

Vlad has returned after fighting and defeating Mehmed, taking his place on the throne once more. Only this time, he is a vampire. He now rules over the lands Mehmed once did, except he is not known as Sultan, he remains Prince. His dwellings are still within Wallachia which is newly rebuilt, his army becomes vast and stronger than any other army around, and though weary of others, he still rules as he once did. His heart is heavy with the loss of his wife, and the duty of raising their son on his own. But he does everything and anything for Ingeras so he doesn’t have to suffer anymore than he already has.

THE COUNT (1880 - early 1900s ; very loosely based on Bram Stoker’s version)

London’s new resident is a centuries old vampire, having just bought into real estate. Vlad Dracula leads a quiet life, not bothering anyone as he tries to make his life somewhat normal. He prays upon people, though not savagely, and drinks only enough for him to be satisfied. Afterwards, he heals them with his own blood and wipes away their memory of anything that had transpired between them.

PRINCE OF WALLACHIA (Pre war with Mehmed II)

Vlad is Voivode to Wallachia, and is reigning peacefully. His rulings are fair and his people adore him. He is not married, and not with any children. Vlad’s adviser pushes him to marry someone already to give him an heir, but it is not something Vlad is in a rush for even though he wishes to have a family of his own someday. Vlad is always holding Council with his noblemen or working on kingly duties, but one can find him constantly with his nose in a book, learning something new and enticing.

*Alternate Version*

Vlad is Prince, and ruling with Mirena. This takes place a year before the war with Mehmed.

CHIEF INSPECTOR IONESCU (1850s ; Aged 30)

Of Romanian descent, Vlad’s family had moved to England in the early 1800s for a better life. His father became wealthy in the railroad business, and Vlad went to Oxford where he graduated top of his class in both criminal justice and anatomy. He soon began to work for London’s Scotland Yard. Vlad was quick to move up the ranks due to his vast knowledge in the field, and became London’s youngest Chief Inspector at the age of 30. His work always consumes him, never allowing him to keep a steady relationship and miss out on important events his family hosted almost monthly. And though it bothered him, his job to keep the streets of London safe were more important.

HUMAN (Modern day, Aged 33)

Vlad Dragan was raised in Romania along with his three brothers on a vast farm. Having ambitions far bigger than the life he was meant to have, Vlad made sure he excelled in school before getting a scholarship for Oxford in London. There, he studied History and Archaeology, and became an archaeologist. His job has taken him all over the world, but his home base remains London, and he works as both an Archaeology professor in Oxford as well as studying artifacts in England’s Natural History Museum.

WIZARDING WORLD (Taking place throughout the HP series, Timeline varies)

A vampire as a professor? Vlad is! Vlad works at Hogwarts as a History of Magic professor. He doesn’t socialize too much with others outside of when classes are in session, but he does attend every school event and never misses a meeting. He is also a Hufflepuff (I personally think he’s a hybrid of Hufflepuff and Gryffindor…so Gryffinpuff. But to be technical, Hufflepuff).

VAMPIRE KING (Tolkien semi-loosely based, takes place during ‘The Hobbit’ and on; also, using Welsh as the language for Men in my verse since there are hardly any translations in Adunaic, and Welsh is a pretty awesome language so try not to correct me on this for all you super Tolkien canon fanatics)

Vlad Alastor is Edain, from the House of Marach during the First Age. He lived in Dor-lomin, part of Hithlum, and ruled as King for many prosperous yet tough years. But Morgoth struck war upon the lands, and Vlad knew his army wouldn’t be enough to win the war. He sought help from a dark, magical being living in the mountains that turned him into a fampyr (my own derivation from the Welsh spelling for vampire) for a hefty price of his soul once the time came. As Nírnaeth Arnoediad occurred, most of Vlad’s army was defeated but he himself was able to defeat the enemy, driving away the evil forces. But due to Dor-lomin crumbling away from the war, and more evil forces eventually ascending upon the country, Vlad was overthrown as king and banished from the lands he grew up on and ruled. Having an idea, he faked his death, and Vlad ran as far away as he could. Many, many years had passed, and by the time of the Third Age, Vlad is king in Rhun, his residence lay beyond the Sea of Rhun.

ABILITIES AND WEAKNESSES

|+|IMPORTANT|+|

Vlad is part of a bloodline he solely shares with his superior, Caligula: the vampire who turned him, due to having no choice but to dwell in a cave for eons until he was able to pass on his powers to Vlad and set himself free. Therefore, his abilities and weaknesses are different from any other bloodline. His transformation is different, as well as the way he turns others, which never happens unless it happens in a thread.

|+| ABILITIES |+|

~Shapeshifts into bats~Manipulates bats at his will~Super strength and speed~Heightened sight, smell and hearing~Weather manipulation (to an extent)~Mind manipulation (to an extent)~Healing. Very small increments of his blood, when taken via mouth, can heal a person. There is no guarentee that it can revive a person if they are dying.

|+| WEAKNESSES |+|

~ Silver~ Wooden and silver stakes (both fatal if directly piercing his heart)~ Direct sunlight

|+| OTHER INFORMATION |+|

~ Vlad sleeps, but only for a few hours. He needs to be in a completely dark room in order to sleep soundly, or else he’ll be quite irritable.~ Vlad is able to walk during the day while using his weather manipulation powers to cover up the sun’s harmful rays with clouds.~ Holy objects do not harm Vlad. It isn’t specified why in the film, but for RP purposes, it’s due to him being so in-tuned with his religion even when he was turned that his God saw the good in him regardless of the fact he was a now a monster (his religion during the time was and remains to be Orthodox).~ Vlad can eat food but chooses not to usually. The taste of food has not faded for him even though he is a vampire. He does not crave food, nor does he need to live off it, therefore he doesn’t really eat anything unless it's to keep up appearences. Vlad lives off of animal blood mainly, but knows a guy that slips him blood bags from a blood bank to keep in the house.

#::muse ; vlad::

13 notes · View notes

marvelfansince08love · 5 years ago

Text

The Pleasure is all mine - Chapter 4

Word Count: 4366

Pairing: Lou Miller x Fem!Reader

Setting: You will just have to read ;)

Warnings: Softest chapter so far tbh, Lou being a gentlewoman

A/N: It’s finally here! I kept deleting and adding things and it was a big mess. I have a love/hate relationship for this chapter, I hope you enjoy it, my loves! Thank you @canarypoint for helping me with the grammar/punctuation you the real MVP.

This is the longest chapter I have ever written!😂

Y/F/T - Your favourite topping

Your comments/feedback gives me life! 💛

Tags: @waitingfortheendtocome @redcrete @5aftermidnight @iamheartless @deadly-darling @gaylorrds @smuttty

I do not own the gif below!🖤

Chapter 4

Warmth surrounds me in my light slumber as my eyes slowly adjust to the light of day. A heavy weight lies across my waist, wrapped around me like a vice. Light air tickles the side of my neck, making me shiver. I look over to see Lou fast asleep, her face relaxed and content, clear of her signature black eyeliner and mascara, making her look younger. I smile gently at the sight of her.

How can I be falling this fast for a woman I barely know?

An unsettling feeling lies in the pit of my stomach, thinking about how I've easily let this woman sweep me up off my feet and into a world so alien to me, yet I don't want to run away from it, away from her.

"I can practically hear your thoughts swirling around in that beautiful head of yours, love," the deep tired voice next to me says with a teasing smirk. Her eyes open, showing me those crystal blue eyes.

I blush a deep red and bury my face into the soft pillow that smells of Lou and smile at her.

"Good morning to you too, sleepyhead."

She groans and tightens her arm around me, bringing me closer to her. Her lips press gently to my cheek before whispering:

"What were you thinking about?"

"You... me."

"What about you and me? No wait, let me guess. You were thinking about; what a hot couple we would make and that Lou is the luckiest woman in the world to have gotten the attention of the most beautiful creature in the world."

"Are you calling me vain?" I outrage mockingly.

"I thought I was complimenting you," she teases right back, grinning.

I giggle and rest my head on her shoulder, my fingers thread through hers. We both continue to joke back and forth before being interrupted by a loud knock on the door. We both spring apart at the interruption just as the door opens slightly with messy brown curls peaking through the gap; Rose's wide eyes stare at us as she stumbles over her words.

"I'm..uh.. terribly sorry to interrupt but I just thought I'd let you know that me and Tammy are taking Debbie to be checked over," the Irish woman says, rather quickly, might I add. I feel Lou relax next to me, pulling me closer again.

"Thanks Rose, text me later with an update and if you need anything, I mean anything, let me know okay," Lou says watching in amusement as Rose tries to keep her eyes on anything that isn't us. I smile gently as if to try and ease her uneasiness, feeling slightly awkward for her. I take in my attire that consists of Lou's oversized band tee and her in a barely buttoned checkered shirt and with us giggling around in bed, probably sounded worse on the other side of that door.

"Right, yes, yes of course. We'll see you later Lou, it was lovely to meet you, Y/N."

"Yeah you too Rose, thank you for your help last night," her head tilts slightly, her eyes slightly wide as she shakes her head.

"Oh no, no it was all you last night, dear. We were merely assisting, you are the real hero," she says sincerely before smiling lightly and leaving the room.

I blush at the compliment, not used to such praise. Sure, the job I do is rewarding and I get many thanks but coming from Lou's friend hits differently.

Maybe because you want Lou's friends to approve of you and also want to get into her pants.

I hear Lou chuckle next to me before she kisses my shoulder and rolls away from me to stand. My eyes are instantly drawn to her smooth, long legs. I bite my lip remembering that she only has a pair of panties on underneath that long shirt.

"Eyes up here, sweetheart," her head turning slightly as she looks at me over her shoulder and winks.

"I'll be downstairs making us breakfast, you go shower, love. The fresh towels are on the side by the shower."

"Is that your way of politely telling me I smell, Miller?" I tease.

She smirks cheekily at me before saying:

"I didn't want to say anything but- oof hey!" She whines playfully as she holds the pillow that I just threw in her direction, hitting her square in the face.

"No pancakes for you then," she sulks, pouting at me before winking and dashing out of the room.

***

Once showered and dressed into my jeans and one of Lou's band tees I make my way downstairs. From the bottom step, I stand and watch Lou move fluidly around the open space; pan in hand. 'Friday I'm In Love' plays softly in the background. I feel my lip twitch slightly before forming a wide smile; smittened.

Lou seems to sense my presence and spins around to look at me.

"Take a sit love and watch as I make the best pancakes that you will ever taste in your entire life."

I practically skip my way over to her, feeling rather giddy; loving this carefree, playful side of Lou Miller. Once I take a seat Lou places a plate full of pancakes with Y/F/T and a cup of coffee.

"Wait, you have Y/F/T too! I knew I liked you for a reason!" I cheekily say before taking a bite of the delicious breakfast.

"Oh? Here I thought it was my charm and good looks," she grins while also taking a bite of her pancakes, sitting opposite me at the countertop.

"Nah, it was that cute little white bandana you wore with that white chef's tunic. That had me swooning," I tease while taking a sip of my coffee.

"Oh so you like a woman in uniform huh? That's interesting," she glances up as if thinking about the information she's been given.

"Mmm, oh yes."

"That's funny because I kinda like a woman in a uniform... more specifically a nurses one," her eyes check me out before she leans over and stabs her fork into my pancakes and takes a bite while winking cheekily at me.

"In your dreams, Miller."

"No you're right... that kind of role play should only be allowed after we've at least been dating for 3 months, at least."

I choke on my coffee and Lou rushes around the countertop to pat my back, her brows pinched with concern.

"Shit, Y/N, I was only messing around. You okay love? Do you want some water?"

"No, I'm okay thanks and it's okay. I just wasn't expecting that response," I say feeling embarrassed for panicking.

She was just messing around, Y/N. No need to think too much into it.

"So now that I know that you're okay and we are kinda on the topic... how would you feel about going on that date...with me, today?" Her smile is wide, beaming at me.

"Hmm I'll have to get back to you on that. I am after all a very busy woman," my face serious as I pretend to think about it, mumbling about fake appointments. From the corner of my eye I see Lou lean against the countertop next to me, her arms crossed with a small grin on her face; knowing what I'm doing.

"Damn, that's a shame because I really like you and would hate to miss out on treating you to a proper date."

I think I've melted to the floor. Is it hot in here?

"Well in that case, how could I refuse such an offer."

"Okay great! So how about I drop you back at your apartment and let you rest for most of the day and pick you up at 6.30? You must still be exhausted after the day/night you've had, even though I love seeing you in my kitchen wearing my clothes."

"That sounds perfect," with matching grins we both take a sip of from our coffees.

I'm going on a date with Lou Freaking Miller!

***

"Okay, do I go for the black jeans and green silk top with the spaghetti straps and heels or do I wear these with this black dress?" I turn to Rachel wearing my black dress with thin straps while holding my emerald green silk top. My room is filled with crumpled clothes with small gaps of flooring still showing.

"Okay so the fact that you aren't putting that black dress on is a crime. The jeans and top is nice but that dress shows off your curves more and your ass, girl she is gonna die seeing you wear that," she exclaims while lounging lazily on my bed. After Lou dropped me back at my apartment and gave me a swift kiss to the cheek, promising to pick me up later on. I instantly called Rachel over in desperate need for help and encouragement.

"But she won't even tell me where the date is taking place! I can't just show up in this and then we end up on the back of her bike-”

"Which is totally hot by the way, how have you not jumped her bones?"

"Because I'm trying to respect both of our boundaries and I completely forgot the other thing," we both laugh at my failed attempt at covering up my lame excuses.

"Okay so I've decided to go for the black jeans and top!" I decide, happy with my decision. Rachel huffs slightly in defeat before agreeing that it would be the most appropriate.

"Besides if you don't take a jacket maybe she will give you hers?" She says with a dreamy look. I throw one of my old shirts at her while laughing at her ridiculousness.

"Okay romcom, now that the outfit has been chosen, want to help me with my hair and make up?"

She grins.

This is gonna be interesting.

***

Once Rachel had gone full MUA, I make my final touches with my watch and rings before turning back to her.

"So what do you think?" As I bring my curls around to my front letting them bounce lightly.

"You look amazing! She won't be able to keep her hands off of you!" She exclaims clasping her hands together. I blush at the thought of Lou's arm around me this morning in her bed; but I keep those thoughts to myself.

"That's it my work here is done, I shall leave you to it, girl. Text me all the details later... and I mean alll of it," and with a quick wink she rushes out of the door leaving me red in the face.

That girl...

My thoughts are interrupted by the sound of Harry Styles’ Adore You. I quickly grab my phone and see Lou's name eliminate my screen.

"How did you manage to change my ringtone? I really have to talk to nine-ball about privacy," I tease only feeling slightly annoyed at the intrusion.

After we all settled around Debbie last night I was able to fully introduce myself to the other woman present. Nine-ball was probably the most interesting character I've ever met, who knew someone so unassuming could be so brilliant and sharp-minded.

"Sorry I just couldn't help myself... that seems to happen a lot lately with you."

I grin wide before replying:

"So this date... am I allowed a hint, I gotta find the appropriate footwear if we are to go anywhere."

"Look outside," I turn around and face the window; standing by the bottom step of my apartment building is Lou. I bite my lip while scanning her attire; tight leather pants with a purple silk shirt that shows off some of her chest, giving me a great view of her cleavage and a dark grey long coat hanging over her forearm. I grin stupidly before grabbing my coat and running to the door.

"Well aren't you a sight for sore eyes," I say, making my way down the steps, I stop on the last step so we are eye level. Lou chuckles softly before tucking a piece of hair behind my ear and cupping the side of my face, her eyes staring straight into mine.

"And you look like a beautiful goddess... you scrub up well, love," before leaning forward and placing a gentle kiss to the side of my mouth. I instantly worry my bottom lip trying to stop myself from smiling like an idiot.

She steps back and bends her elbow slightly indicating for me to put my arm through it. I link my arm through the awaiting gap and fall into step beside her. As I go to question our next location, Lou stirs me across the street towards a dark grey RS6 Avant Audi. I turn and raise a questioning eyebrow.

"I thought you were a motorcycle kinda woman."

"Oh, I am but I thought this would be more appropriate, didn't want you to get too windswept," she winks before opening the door on my side, gesturing for me to climb in. She walks to the other side and slides into the car making herself comfortable.

"You ready?"

"Always," with matching grins we weave through the traffic of the streets of New York.

Once parked up in a quieter area, Lou helps me out of the car by offering her hand.

"Are you always this charming?"

"Depends on who you ask," I laugh, enjoying her cheeky side more and more.

"I've never been around this area before," I take in the scattered fairy lights between each lamppost and garden bushes surrounding the entrance, a sign with swirling letters reading "Alessandro's" on the front of the building.

"It's a pretty hidden spot around here, a nice place to get away from all the bright lights and loud noises of the city," Lou states, her hand comes to rest on my lower back as she escorts me through the door.

A small plump woman stands by the hosting stand, her beaming smile showing her crows feet around her emerald eyes. She immediately walks over and pulls Lou into a bone crushing hug, I hear Lou chuckle at the woman's enthusiasm before whispering into her ear in a language I'm unfamiliar with. The woman gasps and pulls away before turning to look at me, her mouth still slightly open.

"Oh where are my manners, I'm Camilla the owner alongside my Husband Alessandro. Oh what a beautiful girl, ey! You did a good job with this one, Tesoro!"

I grin as I watch Lou's cheeks slowly turn into a light shade of pink.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Camilla. I'm Y/N. You have a beautiful restaurant, you and your husband must be very proud!" She reaches for my hands and presses a light kiss in each of my palms before clasping them in between her own.

"Beautiful and polite! I like her already. Please come, come I have the best table for you both," she quickly leads the way as Lou finds her place back at my side, her hand placed one again against my back before trailing behind Camilla.

Once seated and with the promise of having the best homemade Italian wine delivered to the table we are left alone, a candle illuminating both our faces. Her crystal blue eyes sparkle above the soft glow of the candle, a soft smile settling onto her face.

"I'm sorry for Camilla, she can become very excited over meeting new people, especially someone who I take an interest in, clearly."

"Oh and does that happen a lot?" I tease only feeling a slight bit of jealousy at the idea. Her face grows serious as she reaches for my hand across the table, her thumb brushing along the back of my skin.

"Never actually, you're the first person I've ever brought here... romantically at least."

Well shit!

"Oh," I blush and bite my lip trying to hide my smug smile. She winks before giving my hand a squeeze and settling back into her chair, just as Camilla arrives with a bottle of white wine.

"Ah, my lovely ladies! Here is your wine, are you ready to order or would you like a few more minutes?"

I panic slightly looking briefly at my menu that is mostly in Italian. My eyes meet Lou's as she gestures to the menu.

"May I order for us both? Is there anything you don't like?"

"I will eat most things and I'm not allergic to anything," she grins and nods in acknowledgement. Lou turns her head towards Camilla and reels off our order in fluent Italian her voice deep and rich.

As if I needed any more reason to crush on this woman.

"Ah excellent choice, Mia ragazza! I'll get right on that, ladies enjoy your wine," with a beaming smile Camilla glides away towards the kitchen.

"So how do you know Camilla?"

She grins softly, her eyes almost glazed over reliving the memory.

"I moved out to America at an early age. I didn't know anyone and making friends wasn't my strongest qualities. One night I stumbled across this place on a walk, they were both standing by the window and must have seen me looking at the place. Alessandro came out and introduced himself to me, I ended up telling him how I was interested in owning a catering company but did I know the first thing about that, fuck no. I had all this money from running small cons around the area but nothing to really invest into. Alessandro was ecstatic to find someone who he could pass his knowledge onto, you see they never had any children off their own, so they both kind of took me under their wing. Showed me things way beyond cooking and business, they are much a part of my family as those seven women are," her lip twitches softly at the thought. I grin slightly before lifting my glass indicating a toast.

"Here's to making new friends."

She laughs at my teasing remark before tapping my glass with hers.

"To new friends."

Once our food has been eaten and our stomachs are full, we exchange stories with tears streaming from the laughter:

"So Constance then decided it was a good idea to attach the rope to the back of the car while she stood on a skateboard. Nine-ball drove down the steep road and we all just watched in horror as Constance let go of the rope and came flying down the street almost getting run over before landing on a stack of mattresses that were outside a store!"

I snort at the ridiculous story and Lou giggles the wine getting to us both making us slightly tipsy.

"Okay my darling girl, I'm afraid we are closing," Camilla regretfully says while placing a hand on Lou's shoulder. My eyes widen as I look at the time.

It's almost 10pm!

"I'm sorry for holding you up mamma Cam! Thank you for the lovely food as always," Lou gushes while squeezing the hand that rests upon her shoulder.

"Anything for you sweet girl! Now go and take this lovely woman somewhere nice, maybe the gardens at the back, ey?"

Lou rolls her eyes in good nature while looking at me and mouthing "insufferable."

I giggle quietly before reaching for my bag.

"Um, what are you doing?"

"Come on Lou we can half it," her head is already shaking at my suggestion and the gasp that comes out of Camilla's mouth clearly shows her agreement with Lou.

"You will do no such thing, my darling. You put that purse away, now! Lou knows her manners we taught her well," her scolding faint as her pride for Lou sweeps in dominating her chasting.

"She's right, Y/N, I'm paying," I pout slightly as Camilla nods her head in agreement before turning to fetch our coats. I lock eyes with Lou from across the table, they seem to soften once they fall down to see my pouting lips.

"You keep pouting like that I'm gonna have to break my first date rule," her voice suddenly huskier laced with lust. I bite my lip in anticipation and mainly to tease her further.

"What rule might that be," I say innocently. She grins devilishly before standing from her chair and making her way over to me and whispers in my ear:

"To not take you to bed," I gasp softly at her boldness, my cheeks glowing red... or is that from the wine.

Before I could say a witty comeback Camilla is practically skipping her way over, coats in hand.

"Here are your coats, my sweet girls. Lou be safe and take care of her okay, she's a keeper and Y/N darling don't me a stranger, ey. Come visit Mamma Cam, she could use the company," her eyes moving to Lou in a teasing accusation.

"Hey! I visit as much as I can Mamma," Camilla places both hands on either side of Lou's face and pats gently with a soft smile.

"I know you do, Ragazza dolce. You stay safe now you hear! Enjoy the rest of your evening ladies," she beams and waves at us as we go to turn and leave. We see Alessandro, Camilla's husband pop his head over the kitchen door.

"Lou! The arches, Neonata!" Before he winks and turns back towards the kitchen.

I pinch my eyebrows in confusion but before I have time to question, Lou is escorting me out of the restaurant and onto the quiet street, arm around my waist. Once on the street Lou reluctantly removes her arm and already I miss the warmth. Her hand gently brushes against mine, I quickly lace my fingers through hers wanting to be touching her. Her skin is soft and warm and a bask in the feeling of it.

"So where to now?"

She smiles.

***

The trees swayed back and forth around us as we walked hand in hand down the path, of the dimly lit park. My mind wandering back to the last few hours spent with this blonde goddess, a small smile appearing on my face. I feel a gentle squeeze around my hand and look up to see Lou staring at me with a soft grin.

"So how much of New York have you seen?"

"A lot actually! Almost all of the tourist spots have been checked off my list now!"

She chuckles lightly at my enthusiasm, amused.

"That's great but I think we can do better than that," she says before leading me around the corner and towards an open underbridge. I look over to her in confusion.

What could be so interesting under that bridge.

Once we walk closer and under it I realise why:

The arches.

The low arches and curve of the domed ceiling run low under the bridge, the light of the moon hitting the arches perfectly, making the tiles shine ever so brightly in the moonlight. I gasp lightly in astonishment.

"Lou, this is beautiful," my eyes taking it all in.

"Yeah, it sure is," she replies, I can see from the corner of my eye that she isn't talking about the arches. I blush under the moonlight before turning my attention to the walls.

"This place is beautiful but why are we here?" Without saying a word, Lou takes my hand and walks me towards one of the corners of the arches.

"Turn and face the wall and listen, love," I raise an eyebrow but remain silent. She chuckles quietly before whispering "Trust me," and steps away, heading towards the opposite side of the archway and turning her back to me. Its quiet for a moment before:

"Pancakes," I gasp slightly and quickly turn around at the sound but become quickly confused as Lou is still standing facing the other way, her shoulders shaking slightly.

"But how... that sounded like you were right next to me, it was so loud and clear," she turns then and smirks softly before replying:

"The domed ceiling with the height of the arches helps sound to travel and follow the arches around. That way when I speak from this side, you are able to hear me so clearly on the other side of it. There's one similar at Grand Central Station but I thought this place would be quieter," she shrugs, her cheeks tinting a slight pink colour.

Can she get anymore perfect.

"Lou, I love it truly. This is amazing," I smile wide in excitement before turning back to the wall and whispering

"Vodka."

"A woman after my own heart."

I giggle at that.

"So do you take all your ‘new friends’ here because this is definitely a babe magnet location."

"Only you, love. I seem to be doing a lot of firsts this evening."

I grin wide and I know she is too.

"Well I love it. You really are something else Lou Miller," she chuckles quietly and then silence. I get ready to turn around to see if she's still there before I hear the softest voice next to my ear:

"With you I feel like I have a childish crush, that's quickly growing up."

My heart flutters at her confession and I lean my head gently against the cool tile.

"I also have a confession... me too."

Before I can say anything else, I feel an arm wrap around me and spin me gently around, pulling me flushed against her. Leaning her forehead against mine she whispers gently into the open air:

"I so badly want to kiss you right now."

"Then do it."

Lou leans forward and presses her soft pale lips against mine, gently at first before brushing them along my pink lips and leaning forward to kiss them hard. My arms snake their way around her neck to help deepen the kiss, I feel Lou's hands brush gently down my waist and over to my ass, squeezing gently pulling me to her, as if afraid I might disappear. Her tongue skims across my bottom lip making me gasp slightly; granting her access, both fighting for dominance. I pull back slightly, rather breathless before whispering:

"Take me home."

#lou miller x reader #lou miller #oceans 8 #cate blanchett #female!reader #debbie ocean #sarah paulson #My Story #pure fluff

178 notes · View notes

the-fourth-queen-fanarts · 5 years ago

Text

Eternal Flame (Shangst)

Shiro shouldn’t have chased after Lance- not after realizing that Lance and his clone were in a relationship. Shiro should have sat down and thought this through, he should have taken a goddamn breath and asked himself how the hell this would affect their current friendship now.

But he didn’t- Shiro approached Lance against his or anyone’s better judgment.

He found the somber boy in the training room. Now it was obvious why he’s always looking so heartbroken whenever he looked at Shiro. He wasn’t seeing Shiro, he was seeing it.

And even when Shiro asked Lance how he felt about the real Shiro, he never expected for Lance’s words to carry so much weight. And Shiro didn’t want to humor this obviously blind crush. Lance wanted to explain at first, but then Shiro didn’t want to understand.

How could Shiro possibly understand that while he was barely existing, Lance had not only befriended a fake version of himself, but fallen in love with him? That wasn’t the real Shiro- it was a clone and they weren’t the same person. How could Lance catch feelings for that? It didn’t make sense- Shiro didn’t want Lance’s love- especially when that love was never directed to him in the first place.

It was exactly why Shiro couldn’t delay this conversation any longer.

They stood opposite each other- thick silence in the air. Lance reached out, and Shiro stepped back. Where was this going?

“Close your eyes,” Lance instructed the man, his voice borderline on a whisper, “Give me your hand,”

Shiro hesitated, but after staring at Lance’s outreached palm for the better half of a dobash, he finally rested his hand in the blue paladin’s grip. Lance curled his fingers around Shiro’s- the gesture so intimate and strange that Shiro nearly snatched his hand away.

Lance sighed softly, “Please Takashi, listen to me.”

There he went again- calling him by his first name. It almost always tricked Shiro into letting his guard down, but it was an honest slip. For some reason, Lance was more used to calling him by his first name than anyone else. It had to be the biggest clue that they had something more than friendship.

Shiro let his eyes drift shut, “Okay- now what?”

Lance shifted his hand, pulling it to himself until Shiro felt himself touch Lance’s smooth shirt. It was warm, and… he could feel the throbbing heart under it. Consistent and loud against his palm. Shiro pressed his hand closer- listening without his ears.

Lance’s voice was definitely in a whisper- almost trembling, “Do you feel my heart beating…? Do you understand?”

The next part was so quiet, so soft and Shiro felt Lance’s heart quicken almost immediately, “Would you feel the same?”

How could he? He wasn’t the same person- the same man who befriended, no, who loved Lance in the past. That was a different version of him, in another life- Lance was, and will always be just Lance.

Lance swallowed, “Or am I only dreaming…?”

Shiro pulled away, and opened his eyes. He found himself looking into Lance’s eyes of unshed tears. But no matter what pity or what sorrow he felt for his heartbroken friend- he couldn’t let Lance continue to live in a fantasy.

Shiro put on a soft smile- the smile of a friend who doesn’t want to break someone very dear to them, but needs to. “Lance… you’re an amazing person and a-”

“But you don’t love me,”

God- why did this have to hurt so much? Why did Lance have to fall in love with his clone- why not Allura? She would have known how to handle this better than Shiro. But Shiro knew what must be done. He should treat this like a bandaid, pull it off quickly and get it over with.

“No Lance, I don’t love you.” Shiro said calmly- and how he wished he didn’t see how Lance visibly staggered back, “I’m not the same man who you fell in love with. That’s not me- and I don’t want you living in a fantasy world where you and I have this happy-ever-after where we marry or grow old together and… well...”

Shiro shut his eyes- he did not want to see Lance cry, especially since he knew this was his fault, “Lance, ‘us’ is never going to happen. I can’t love you,”

Shiro didn’t have to open his eyes to see Lance’s anguish, he heard it in the boy’s voice when he whispered, “Why…? What’s wrong with me?”

“There’s nothing wrong with you!” Shiro defended, fists clenched at his side, “This is simply inconvenient-”

“So our love is inconvenient…?”

“Yes- I mean no. I mean…” Shiro rubbed his temples, still refusing to open his eyes, “Don’t make this any harder than it has to be- we’re friends Lance, and I hate hurting you.”

“Then…” Lance paused, and Shiro heard the boy’s breath hitch. There was some shuffling, and a few sobs. Shiro wanted to reach out- to comfort the boy and to just hold him close, but that would only hurt them both. Lance needed to get over it.

Lance inhaled sharply, “Then can I mourn?”

“Mourn… what? The clone?” Shiro bit down on his bottom lip, wishing they could move on from this topic, “Why?”

There was something dark in Lance’s tone, “Because the man I loved is dead. Replaced. You will never be him and I need some time to understand that,”

Why did Shiro feel as though those words should have been directed at his clone and not him? Wasn’t Shiro the one to be replaced by the clone? But the sheer emotion Lance revealed with those words, made Shiro almost wish he had threaded a little lightly.

Shiro jumped when he felt Lance’s hand clasp his shoulder- and flinched when Lance coolly said, “You can open your eyes Shiro, there’s nothing to see here.”

And even when Lance had walked out the room, Shiro still kept his eyes closed. He didn’t open them until his own heart had stopped pounding- but this was no love, only fear. For their friendship- for Lance.

Yet, Lance never mentioned it. That very afternoon, when they had sat down for team dinner, Lance was his jovial self. Even grinning at Shiro like everything was back to normal. And even if Lance’s smile faltered once or twice when Shiro laughed, it didn’t matter. Lance and Shiro understood- there was nothing between them, and there never will be.

#shangst #shiro/lance onesided #unrequited crush #shance #lance/shiro #pining lance #breakup #i craved angst #so i wrote this #im sorry #vld #i might write a fix it sequel

60 notes · View notes

adenei · 4 years ago

Text

Auror 99 - Chapter 10

You can find the whole story on AO3 or FFN

Curveball

Hermione’s plan had come to fruition quite easily with Amy helping. Harry and Ron had spent the past couple of days in the records office trying to gather information and possible evidence. They’d contacted Kingsley to get clearance without having to sign in and risk blowing both their real and fake covers.

Meanwhile, Jake and Charles had been placed on stakeout duty outside the Woolworth building. This time, though, they weren’t looking for a specific person, but some other type of consistency. Perhaps someone entering or exiting the building at the same time every day, or whether there were similarities in people’s gaits with their walk. Hermione and Amy had researched possible ways to imitate a person, and, with the trio’s past use of Polyjuice, they had more ideas of what to look for. Rosa was still stationed on surveillance duty, so she was monitoring the surrounding blocks for any sudden appearances. Sometimes she, Charles and Jake would switch around their duties to not get caught up in the monotony.

What Ron and Harry had found the next day was a similarity in times on the main sign in sheet for the Wand Records Office, but it was always a different name. The names were always male, so if it was Gerteso posing as other people, it narrowed the search for who the 99 was looking for. Once in the Wand Records Office, the second sign-in indicated that Gerteso was searching wand records between 1993 and 1998, but the rows varied. It looked as if Gerteso had been tackling about five rows a day, and was a week in.

He typically only spent about forty five minutes searching each day to not arouse suspicion, and he didn’t go in order when searching the rows. Gerteso clearly planned everything out to minimize suspicions. The first day Harry and Ron were investigating, they split up the rows between them.

It was a small records office, the rows weren’t very long, and the shelves were only four rows high. The years were labeled at the ends of the rows and indicated the record holder’s school age entrance year. Records were kept in manilla folders that had stickers on the end with letters. The first two appeared to be the first and last initial, and most folders only had two stickers, but some had three or four. So Harry and Ron decided to decipher the labeling system first to see if they could save time.

“How in the world does he get through five rows each day? There must be at least a hundred records to sift through on each shelf!” Harry said as he was looking down the row.

“Maybe there’s a classification system with the letters that makes it easier for him to look.” Ron suggested. He scanned the row he was currently scanning. “Americans certainly go through a lot of wands, don’t they? This one person has had at least five, and their Ilvermorny start was in ‘93!” He shook his head in disbelief.

“Guess they’re more careless than we are, or more interested in power and status. Who knows.” Harry was silent for a bit before he said, “Hey Ron, I think the third letter is the married name for those witches.”

“I think you’re right, Harry,” Ron said as he handled a folder himself. “Black and white lettering for first and last name, blue and white lettering for married name, yeah?”

“Yeah, now let’s look for-” Harry cut himself off as they heard a door open.

Ron checked his watch and knew it was close to that time. He pointed at his watch, and then the end of the row. Harry grabbed the invisibility cloak from inside his pocket and put it on while Ron made his way to an area in the shelves where the newcomer wouldn’t find him. He double checked that his phone was on silent, and opened it to send a text message to Jake and Charles. He’s here.

Jake responded fairly quickly. Harry texted Charles. He’s going to give us a description to work off of so when he comes back out we can trail him to see where he goes.

Brilliant, Ron sent back before switching his contacts to Hermione.

Her response was a bit less stealth. Omg. He’s there? Are you going to apprehend him?

Not yet.

Well, why not? Isn’t that the whole reason you’re there???

Ron rolled his eyes. He was once again reminded why Hermione wasn’t an Auror. Hermione, we don’t know for certain that it’s him. Plus, we need to be sure we know what he’s after to have enough evidence. It’d look pretty bad if we arrested the wrong guy and then spooked Gerteso.

Ugh, fine.

While we’re waiting, have you found any more on The Cryptic yet?

OH! Yes, actually. Amy is going to send you a couple files now. It may actually help us narrow it down.

As Ron was reading Hermione’s text, he saw the drop down notification from Amy and clicked on it. There were three links to articles. He clicked on the first one. Apparently one of the street names The Cryptic goes by is Francesco Martini. At least that was his good samaritan name.

He was the youngest philanthropist New York has seen in decades, only 28. It was an article about how he donates thousands of dollars to help orphaned children, both magical and non-magical. He even takes some of the kids into his home, almost like that Daddy Warbucks in that muggle movie Hermione had made him watch once.

Hmm, I wonder if that’s a cover to better assess kids for the squib trafficking. Ron texted Amy.

I was thinking the same thing. Everything we’ve found on Francesco Martini is pretty solid and checks out, though. He’s careful with his aliases. Plus, he’s only ever seen in pictures by this name, so whoever his true identity is, he keeps that locked up tight.

Merlin, how does she text so fast? Ron thought. He moved onto the other articles she sent to pass the time. The first thing he’d do once Gerteso left would be to double check the name Martini, happy to have a solid plan for once.

The last article was still open on his phone when he noticed something about Martini’s picture. Why didn’t it look the same as the other article. Ron quickly toggled back and forth. Bloody hell, he thought as he opened the text thread for Hermione.

Check those images on the articles of Martini, and tell me if you notice anything. He sent the text and waited a few moments. Sure, the years were two apart, but he was vastly different. Almost as if a beauty charm was used on the more recent article. In the older one he looked like-. His thought was cut off as Hermione’s text came through.

It doesn’t look like the same person, even though he’s labeled as Francesco Martini. That’s odd. I’m having Amy cross reference to see if we get any more image hits.

Notice anything else? Ron sent back.

The older image looks like someone I’ve seen before.

Like Gerteso.

Oh, my... YES, RON THAT’S RIGHT! Ron nodded as he read Hermione’s message.

There are some differences, though.

You don’t think they could be brothers, do you? That could fit the whole taking what’s rightfully his.

Maybe even closer than that.

TWINS? But how…

I don’t know. I’ll search both names, Ron sent the last text to her as he heard a door shut. Harry texted.

He’s leaving, but don’t come out yet. I want to be sure. I’m texting Jake and Charles to make sure he doesn’t see them following him, and not to engage. They’ll meet us back at headquarters.

They waited a good five minutes before they received word from Charles that Gerteso had left the Woolworth building. When Harry told him it was safe, Ron quickly showed him what Hermione and Amy had found and where he wanted to look.

“But that wouldn’t make sense, I trailed him the entire time he was here. He didn’t search the rows he wrote down in the log book, either, Ron. He stayed in the G section of 1998.”

“I think they’re brothers Harry, and if Martini is an alias, then of course Gerteso would be looking in G. Let’s just check the M1998 section.” Harry nodded reluctantly as they quickly found it.

“There’s no Martini here, Ron,” Harry said impatiently, but Ron didn’t move.

He stood there, thinking hard. “What did Kingsley say about the Sanguinity connection with The Cryptic?”

“Just that the Sanguinity named him head of the New York Division,” Harry said, scratching his head.

“He’s 28, Harry. Very young. There’s got to be something special about him.”

“Or maybe they couldn’t find a suitable leader in New York and sent him here,” Harry said half jokingly.

Ron looked up at him. “That’s it! Harry, you’re brilliant!” He immediately began moving to the end of the aisle.

“What? I was only-”

“But what if he was sent here? From Italy? Do they have immigrant records?”

“Er, yeah on the other side of the floor.”

“What are we waiting for?” Ron hurried to the immigration record area and searched for Martini. It didn’t take long to find one singular match in 1998. “Bloody hell,” Ron muttered as they grabbed the file.

He opened it as Harry looked over his shoulder, and sure enough, there was a picture of a boy who closely resembled a younger version of the man who Ron had seen in the article. It turned out Martini was indeed an alias.

“So The Cryptic’s real name is Lorenzo Guarnieri?” Harry asked quietly.

“Looks like it. Let’s take pictures of all this so we can take it back to the team.” Ron handed Harry the folder as he reached for his phone.

As Ron was taking the pictures, Harry continued studying the document. When it came across familial relations, Harry drew a sharp breath in. “Whoa.”

“What?” asked Ron.

“I think you might be right about the brother hunch, mate.”

“Yeah? Why’s that?” Ron asked curiously.

“Because it says so right here. A twin brother, who was older, but presumed dead. Leonardo Guarnieri.”

Ron looked up at Harry and both men had the same thought at the same time. “Gerteso.”

#harry potter au #hp/b99 crossover #brooklyn 99 au

10 notes · View notes

movie-robotnik-positivity · 5 years ago

Text

History lesson: The fake Sonic Boom TV show leak from 2014

The Sonic franchise is no stranger to both real and fake leaks, I can tell that from the journet to the film alone! But over the years there have been several fake leaks going around, and this has to be one of the most insane ones.

The year is 2014, Sega was working on big reboot to their flagship franchise, which would include a big game and a TV show alongside it. Fans didn’t have much to go off besides this one image teasing the characters’ redesigns (which was obviously memed to death)...that is until they got a statement from a supposed storyboard artist working on the show.

I was unable to find the original 4-Chan thread, but I did find all the information, so we’re going to go over this trainwreck of a rumor together.

The premise of the show is simple yet strange, Sonic and friends have to battle Eggman through different locations and time periods to keep him from rewriting history. The heroes come from a good future (which serves as the show’s hub world) while the villains come from a bad one.

MAIN CHARACTERS

Sonic himself isn’t too different, still a cool super-fast dork who loves chili dogs. He has a Marty McFly inspired design with a hover board for water and everything. Oh and he uses a night light, which is pretty cute.

Tails is still the genius engineer and pilot. He’s not a fan of adventuring but will begrudgingly join in whenever he’s needed. Wears lab equipment all the time and plays the bagpipes for….some reason.

Amy is a sports captain, perfect student, and Sonic’s self-proclaimed girlfriend. She’s the daughter of a rich car magnate and is still a part of the group. Wears a retro inspired outfit and lacks her iconic Piko Piko hammer.

Knuckles is described as mellow and spiritual unless you manage to tick him off. He’s still the guardian of the Master Emerald and the main time portal, just not a great one due to how trusting and gullible he is. Wears bandages on his knuckles and….skinny jeans?

VILLAINS

Dr. Eggman is described as a “sort of fat, bald Carmen Sandiego” as he’s constantly travelling through time to steal precious ancient artifacts. His lair in his theme park, Eggmanland, and besides world domination he dreams with becoming the ringmaster at a circus. Wears a retro inspired outfit and has Modern Eggman proportions, just way taller with long lanky limbs. Also, instead of Orbot and Cubot, he has Rouge and Shadow as his bumbling henchmen.

Rouge is the brains of the operation but will alter the plans if it means she can steal something for herself. Wears a pink tube top with purple sweatpants and has blue wings.

Shadow is the muscle, almost as strong as Sonic, however, he’s pretty lazy and always chooses to give the least effort possible. He wears an open red Hawaiian flower print shirt and sunglasses. (HAWAIIAN SHADOW!)

Evil Sonic (you read that right) comes from Eggman’s bad future, he hates his counterpart with a passion and will come up with schemes to destroy him and his reputation, occasionally working alongside the doctor if their goals intertwine. Wears the same as Sonic but with inverted colors and his fur is a slightly darker shade of blue.

OTHERS

Blaze is a princess from a foreign land and is currently living in Amy’s mansion as an exchange student. Is very shy and awkward, while she’s not sure what to make of Sonic’s adventures she finds them more interesting than her normal life. She still has fire controlling powers and always keeps an oil lantern with her. Wears a purple scarf and fluffy ushanka, a long sleeve shirt with armless vest over the top, a purple skirt and high heel shoes.

Metal Sonic was Eggman’s weapon until he was reprogrammed and given free will by Tails. He acts sort of like an anti-hero and rival to Sonic, who he tries to best at everything, from racing to saving people to burping contests (???)

Silver is interesting, he starts as Sonic’s bratty neighbor who’s always trying to become a part of the group. One day, after he successfully pesters Sonic into taking him on an adventure, Silver betrays him to gain ancient psychic powers and becomes a villain. He’s basically a bully that wants revenge on Sonic for humiliating him. Wears a black belt with a golden buckle and matching boots, he’s described as “very large and fat” and is constantly eating, aparently.

Finally there’s Team Chaotix, which consists of Vector, Espio and Fang. They are a group of not so bad criminals who are usually contracted by Eggman.

Vector is the leader, pretends to be a tough guy but secretly wants to be a dancer. Always broke and owing money. Wears a leather jacket with a gold chain necklace (just like how he appears in the show, strangely enough)

Espio is a ninja who travelled from the past and was saved by Vector, he joined the team as a way to pay this life debt. He’s not fond of criminal activity but goes along with it making sure no one gets hurt. Is amazed by modern technology. Only wears gloves and boots.

Fang is the most rotten of the group, quick to betray when things go sour and is only kept around because he’s good at what he does. Wears a wide brim hat, a bandana over his mouth, a brown belt and has spurs on his shoes.

This Sonic Boom is described as a children’s comedy first, action show second. Contains things like an overarching plot and pretty tame gross out humor.

So what do you think about this fake TV show? Would you watch it if it actually existed? Personally there are many things I’m not fond off, like Silver’s portrayal, but there are some gems like the Chaotix (which repurposes Fang the Sniper) and, of course, our lord and savior Hawaiian Shadow.

source

#sonic the hedgehog #sonic boom #sonic #tails #amy rose #knuckles the echidna #eggman #dr. eggman #shadow the hedgehog #rouge the bat #Metal Sonic #silver the hedgehog #blaze the cat #team chaotix #vector the crocodile #espio the chameleon #fang the sniper #hawaiian shadow

119 notes · View notes

arecomicsevengood · 4 years ago

Text

Seeds

Before I read it, I had this idea I could write a review of Ann Nocenti and David Aja’s The Seeds for the Comics Journal, but the book just sucked too much. It had basically nothing going for it, or even decipherable as an advancing plot. One thing wrong with it is there’s this sort of conspiracy element, or this “no one believes the news” anymore element of it, but Nocenti didn’t want it to be about “fake news.” Donald Trump has rewired the narrative, so now entire types of subject matter feed into this propaganda machine simply by being addressed. Nocenti’s best work does not shy from topicality, addressing the currents in the cultural air, but this time the modern world feels too hot to handle.

I ordered the Daredevil: Typhoid’s Kiss trade paperback, reprinting a bunch of Nocenti’s work with the Typhoid Mary character from the nineties. The longest story in there is a miniseries with art by John Van Fleet. It’s partly about post-Tarantino video-store employees turned filmmakers kidnapping Typhoid Mary to use her as the subject of a documentary about serial killers and violent media. It’s also about Typhoid Mary working as a private detective trying to track down a killer of prostitutes, who the police don’t care about, and are maybe the actual killers of themselves. Storywise, it’s a pretty cool attempt to address real-world issues of the day within a pulp context.

Van Fleet’s art is pretty boring and bad in a way that’s distinctly ahead of its time. While the miniseries itself probably wouldn’t exist without the precedent of Elektra: Assassin a decade before, (a spinoff about a female Daredevil villain created by the writer during their run on Daredevil where that character defined their run) all the photoreference that’s probably actually just photo backgrounds run through filters sets a precedent for the Alex Maleev/Matt Hollingsworth Daredevil stuff to come a decade later. And it’s frequently annoying on a page design/panel background level. Like in terms of how the panel borders sort of default to grid shapes so there ends up being things that “read” as panels but that don’t actually do anything for pacing. It’s just fitting the narrative into regimented design choices.

This maybe only happens the once. But the art is also just super-stiff throughout, with a very chunky line that eliminates any real nuance. There’s a bunch of characters, but a lot of them are indistinguishable from one another, and that’s because the linework is about as muddy as the color palette — It kinda seems like he’s working with models and photo reference but also doesn’t have that many models to work with so he’s having them play multiple roles, but also his work basically seems more like photoshop filters than actual drawing? There’s a bunch of stuff that I think sucks, basically. But you can also draw a direct line from what Van Fleet is doing in Typhoid to what Aja does in The Seeds. All these choices that are meant to be classy and dignifed, a move away from the excess of superhero comics. The covers of Typhoid are just portraits of the main character, interchangeable from one issue to the next, which was a move that again, was ahead of its time: This is what so many Marvel covers in the 2000s looked like, the Tim Bradstreet Punisher covers probably being the go-to example. It’s pretty dull but it’s nice they’re not super-sexualized.

While the choices arguably suit the subject matter in Typhoid, which is at least partly about movies, in The Seeds, the story doesn’t really make any sense because the visuals seem so steeped in unreality. The premise is that a tabloid has photographed an alien, proving aliens are real. There is really nothing within the context of the story that explains why the news outlet would have enough gravitas to be convincing and have this be an actual news story. And the book is drawn in Photoshop, which is itself a photo-editing software, so the “reality” of the book is defined by the very medium that people recognize as why images can’t be trusted. This contributes a level of irony that could maybe be worked with if the book itself wasn’t so ugly and dull. The whole thing looks like some Banksy bullshit. Outside of word balloons, text appears in the large all-caps typeface of image macros. I don’t have scans of The Seeds because I gave my copy away on account of there not being any reason to keep it around.

The book is beyond dated at the time of its release. Partly this is due to the speed the cultural conversation has been moving for the past five years. It’s been a difficult time period to work on a work of fiction about the news, certainly, and not only has the comic been a long time in the making, the writer has also been away from making comics for decades now. If the authors had been able to make this as a serialized monthly comic, it might’ve stumbled into timeliness, or the predictive, but as it is, the reading experience feels like a bunch of different, disparate ideas that do not really cohere into a narrative. Leaving aside how the book seems to emerge from a general cultural gestalt of the the 1990s, when The X-Files and Weekly World News were objects of discussion, every major plot point or news story chosen for thematic resonance is approximately fifteen years old. I believe 2005 was when I started to hear about colony collapse disorder. This bee metaphor has been lapped by a Honey Nut Cheerios campaign at this point. (A few years back, boxes of cereal came with seeds of wildflowers you/children could plant.)

Darin Morgan’s episode of The X-Files revival “The Mengele Effect” ably addresses all the issues with how cynicism and conspiracy theories feel different now, all the issues that Nocenti seems terrified of and hopes the audience doesn’t think of when reading her humorless X-Files throwback comic. That episode’s great. Much of The Seeds seems like it was better done in the decidedly not-great Transmetropolitian. There’s something so dated and sad about this comic’s idea of a cool journalist protagonist: People barely smoke cigarettes anymore! I know no one wants to draw people vaping, but the imagery this book wishes meant “cool, urban, woman” reads as nostalgic affectation in 2021. That so much of the commercial landscapes of our cities has been replaced by vape shops was one of the biggest clues we were already living in a dystopia three years ago.

Nocenti, when she was working regularly, got to be a pretty effective writer for having a monthly deadline wherein she could speak on the issues of the day as they were happening. In the absence of a regular gig, this rare chance to speak her mind gets hampered by how much there is to talk about, and how complicated it all is. If it’s too complicated to address in an ongoing superhero comic, a one-off graphic novel with vaguely commercial ambitions turns out to be a worse space for it. It’s so much sadder than anything in this dream-of-the-nineties comic that the authors were given the grace to make something only under the conditions that doom it to failure. Real people made this work of fiction, and I don’t know what the fuck they’re even talking about, and that’s a more complicated narrative than the journalists in this comic who… stumble upon a story and then need to take to back because it’s too important or something? I don’t understand what this comic is about. It’s clearly gesturing at being about a bunch of different things, but what they get from being in juxtaposition with one another, I don’t know.

In interviews in advance of the release of The Seeds, Nocenti talked about how this was the first time she got to make a comic that didn’t have to have fight scenes or conflict in it. But reading Typhoid it’s clear how conflict ties the story’s disparate threads together. But also while reading Typhoid I kept on thinking about how visually, the Steve Lightle shit that preceded it is so much cooler! Here he is, bifurcating a page so two narrative threads can be told with different approaches to stoytelling:

People sometimes talk about how crazy it is that Nocenti started her Daredevil run immediately following up the Miller/Mazzucchelli Born Again run with a fill-in drawn by Barry Windsor-Smith. But I don’t think anyone has pointed out that, since these Typhoid Mary team-up comics appeared in Marvel Comics Presents, she’s basically following up Barry Windsor-Smith’s Weapon X, and Steve Lightle is totally capable of doing that! Even if these comics are kinda whatever narratively, Nocenti comes up with dense enough narratives to give him shit to do. She’s a good writer within the context of the harsh strictures of early nineties mainstream comics. Which I know seems like a harsh diss! But being a writer that makes work that consistently gives a comics artist something interesting to do is a difficult job that many people are just not interested in doing for various reasons, so it should be recognized when it’s attempted and accomplished.

It’s also interesting that the whole visual approach where both Steve Lightle and Barry Windsor-Smith shine is dependent on flat color. The changes in storytelling made to accommodate the shifts in visual language in full-color mainstream comics didn’t really benefit anyone, and now needs to be outsmarted. In The Seeds, we’ve got this pretty dull reading experience that superficially in its two-color print job and nine-panel grid, looks like it might be influenced by Mazzucchelli’s work in Rubber Blanket and City Of Glass. And we’ve got a black and white Barry Windsor-Smith comic coming out from Fantagraphics in a few weeks that I really hope blows it out of the water.

5 notes · View notes

scribblingfangirl · 5 years ago

Text

NOT FAIR | The Witcher - Jaskier

not my gif!

.•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•.

Author’s Note: I apologize if some of this might be off, my knowledge is based solely on the TV series and the bits of information I found on fandom pages and Witcher Wikipedias. Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy this first piece of scribbling I did after years of only writing for high school and university. It might sound a little bit academic from time to time. And just be plain weird, please, bear with me!

word count: ~ 2.5k

prompt: Person A and B have a red string of fate on their little fingers. It tightens up when they are looking at each other, making it feel as if there is a pull on the finger. However, only one of them can see it and is not able to talk about it to their soulmate.

warnings: one swear word, angst, there are (probably) some inconsistencies in the story and (definitely) some sentences that are waaaay to long, punctuation mistakes (in general just a weak English vocabulary), rushed and weird ending

.•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•.

You both grew up in neighbouring houses in Lettenhove. Your parents were ‘good’ friends, as noble people usually are, always mingling around each other, spying, fake-laughing, and holding each other accountable. This meant that you and Julian were able to spend time together too.

Even back then, when you were still young enough to be able to run around the garden in nothing but your undergarments without getting judgemental looks from your mother, as this, later on, would not look good anymore for a noble young lady, you had this little red string on your little finger, that connected yours to Julian’s. Of course, you didn’t know what that meant.

Still, you went through thick and thin together, without the slightest mention of that string. Soon the scenery of your playground changed from your gardens to the streets of the town. People knew you both and knew you were a package deal. If one of you appeared the other wasn’t far away. You were each other’s shoulders to lean and to cry on and you wouldn’t have had it any other way.

However, that wasn’t the whole truth. You did ask him once, in the early beginnings of your friendship, if he felt the pull on his finger as well, whenever you were near him or if he found the red string just as fascinating as you. The only response you got from him that day was a puzzled look and you swore to never talk about it again. It would take a few years for you to find out, that you wouldn’t be able to do it a second time anyway, no matter how hard you tried.

It was when Julian started to receive his early education in a temple school and you were getting a training worthy for a noblewoman at home when you found out about the true meaning of the red string. “The first thing you ought to know,” your mother had said when she sat you down for your first lesson, “is the tale of the red string of fate. The two people that are connected by the string are supposed to be destined lovers, regardless of place, time, or circumstances. This magical cord may stretch or tangle, but never break.” Astonished you had marvelled at the red thread around your finger and when your mother saw your facial expression, she quickly added, “however, only one of the two connected people is able to see the string and some greater force out there forbids them to talk about it. Not that you should worry about this my dear, your father and I already have a promising future prepared for you! After all, it is just some silly old tale!”

As much as it was a silly old tale for your mother, it wasn’t one for you. You started to hear a lot about the myths and listen to the tales people told each other and you were over the moon. How lucky you were to have your best friend as your soulmate! The one person you could always count on!

On the day Julian finally returned from the temple school, you stopped by his house to tell him about your luck. Though, just as your mother had warned, the words didn’t want to leave your mouth. It was as if you just forgot what you wanted to say as soon as you opened it, even though your mind was screaming at you to finally say it out loud. So, instead, you invited him to the ball that would be held at your house later that week. An event none of you actually wanted to attend, which Julian pointed out to you and you just muttered something about having changed while he was gone and that it was expected from a noble young lady as you looked down to your hands and examined the red string. He softly grabbed your chin and tilted your head up, so that he was able to look into your eyes. The feeling that emerged when you looked into his blue ones, that might as well had something to do with the pull on your finger you had almost forgotten during his time away, painfully reached your heart. His usually light blue eyes were darker, full of new, and to you unknown, information about the world and felt farther away than ever. How could you have known that that would only be the beginning of the end for you?

Neither you nor Julian were very popular among your peers in the town and none of you ever made a lasting impression during past social gatherings or balls that were held or visited by your families. Which is why it came as a surprise to both of you when suddenly Syrena de Stael, the daughter of the visiting Earl de Stael, asked Julian to dance with her. Of course, as the gentlemen he was, and the additional scrutinizing glare of his mother, he couldn’t say no to her. How you then ended up knocking a young suitor for yourself to the floor, after he started a fight with Julian, thus allowing the latter and Syrena to leave without being disturbed, was, however, beyond you.

Shortly after that, it became official. Julian declared himself in love with the Countess de Stael and your time as his best friend came to an end. Sure, he still considered you his best friend, but you started to spend less and less time together. Syrena here, Syrena there. That was, after all, the Julian you knew. Once he had an obsession, a fleeting thought of a possibility, he couldn’t stop chasing it. In the end, you were only able to meet as long she was there too, so, after some weeks, you didn’t saw each other anymore at all.

Before losing contact, however, you had asked him if he thought that Syrena and he were meant to be. “Yes, I think so. I love her, what’s more to want than that?” he had asked back. Your soulmate was the small and simple answer. He had laughed. Laughed the laugh you missed so much that it had hurt your heart hearing it again after such a long time. “That’s just… shit. I’m sorry Y/N, but you can’t actually believe this? I mean, come on! One sees the red string, but can’t talk about it? If you can’t talk about it, how come everybody knows about this tale, this myth? And if you can talk about it to other people, how come soulmates don’t tell their friend or families who their soulmate is, and they pass it on? No, it just can’t be real! Syrena is my love and I don’t need fate to tell me that.”

You had just nodded, he had a point after all. You had felt the pull on your finger one last time and had suppressed your tears after he had said that, trying to smile at him. To implement his suggestion now, telling your family or friends that he was your soulmate, would have been clearly futile now. He wouldn’t have believed you, or them, and might have possibly gotten angry at you.

After some days, however, you started to feel how the string pulled at your little finger, regardless of how close you were to him. It pulled you towards him and you asked yourself once, after weeks of feeling the pulling, if he felt it too, but you knew it to be hopeless. The string became longer and longer, but it never lost its pull and strength, until one day you woke up and saw it laying on the floor, tied loosely to your finger. That was the day Julian left to study at Oxenfurt University without saying good-bye. It was the first time you let yourself cry over Julian Alfred Pankratz. Additionally, it was the last time you would ever call him by that name and it was the day part of you turned into nothing.

You didn’t see him, or anything of Lettenhove for that matter, for years after that. While he went on to study, you went travelling around Redania and then the whole Continent, after learning more about this ‘promising future’ your parents had prepared for you. You left your noble life behind, taking the odd job opportunity here and there, which mostly consisted of helping out in taverns, and it gave you enough coin for a more or less comfortable journey.

Jaskier, as he called himself now, after quitting university life and pursuing his musical talents, never left your mind. It hurt that you missed him so much, but every time you thought that the string must have finally snapped, you looked at your hand and it was still there, giving you the faintest feeling of hope.

Then how you met him again. He passed through the village you were currently staying in, his Witcher friend in tow, though it might just have been the other way around and played in the tavern you were currently working at. He looked the same, not a day older and was wearing a colourful, unlaced doublet and his undershirt slightly unbuttoned, letting everyone get a peek at his soft chestnut brown chest hair.

He saw you as he went to get himself some ale after his performance and invited you for a drink after your shift ended, an offer which you stupidly enough gladly accepted. Talking and laughing together was almost like during the good old times, hadn’t it been for the fact that almost all he talked about was his travels with Geralt and the way he missed the Countess de Stael. That night you ran up into your room and slammed the door, screaming at nothing and everybody at the same time, ignoring the fact that the other guests, and even Jaskier, might hear you. You grabbed the gods forsaken red string and hoped to pull it off your finger, so it wouldn’t remind you of your sad fate anymore, as some things obviously wouldn’t change.

Again, years passed after that fleeting encounter in which you didn’t even heard of him, as you went as far as leaving every tavern, place and social gathering at the slightest mention of the word ‘bard’. Or at least, you did the best you could to avoid any possibilities.

As fate would have it, however, you met Jaskier again. He had walked into the tavern in Cintra you were in, this time as a guest rather than a barmaid. You had just gained a new job offer, protecting Cintra from the inevitable attack from Nilfgaard and wanted to drink what was possibly the last ale in your life.

At first, you didn’t even realise that you were looking at the face of your soulmate as he took a seat at the bar, straight in front of you, his lute thrown carelessly at his feet. Then a little breeze caught the red string and pulled at your finger and you heard his voice, so miserable, so broken. You drowned the last of your drink, wanting to forget this image, not wanting it to be the last memory you remembered of him as you went into this war.

Jaskier had wandered into Cintra in the hopes of meeting Geralt, knowing that he couldn’t keep running from his child surprise, from his destiny. Hearing your voice as you thanked the barmaid and passed her coin as payment, before grabbing your belongings and exiting the tavern without acknowledging him in the slightest, wasn’t part of his plans. He didn’t know how long he was staring after you, but it was only the hand on his shoulder that brought him back to the present. “My friend,” said the barman, “you do not look like a soldier to me. Run as long as you still can. Get out of here.”

As useful as that advice might have been, everything that happened afterwards was a blur to Jaskier, but he knew that it was too late. It was dark and yet ghostly shadows were dancing across the walls and the streets due to the growing fires, accompanied by horrific screams and the gruesome sounds of clashing swords. Villagers were running around, and he had just been pushed into a narrow back alley when he felt a pull. A pull he first felt when he was a little kid running around in his garden, a pull that was always there when he heard Y/N’s laugh or saw her sparkling eyes. A pull that disappeared for a long time before reappearing that time in the tavern.

His heart sank and he forgot about the whole situation around him, about the attack on Cintra, his search for Geralt, about the Nilfgaardian soldiers that were still running around. He just felt a pull and looked at his hand. There it was, a beautiful and delicate red string wrapped around his little finger, pulling him out of the narrow alley… pulling him to you.

You were laying in midst of the chaos, soldiers, as well as villagers, scattered around you, some breathing, some not, an arrow in your chest and you were groaning in pain, eyes closed. With a sob he sank to his knees beside you, softly touching your fragile and trembling form, moving your head to rest on his knees, afraid to hurt you even more. Gently he rested his forehead against yours and it was at that moment, blame the gods for their wicked ways, that he remembered the one question you asked him a long time ago. “Do you feel the pull around your little finger as well, whenever I’m near you? Do you find the string fascinating too?”

“Yes”, he started to sob, feeling your body react to his voice, but not caring if his sudden outburst made any sense to you, “I do feel the pull whenever I’m near you sweetheart, I do! But now it’s too late! How could I’ve been so stupid?!”

His breath was warm against your face and the fear and pain that you should have been feeling vanished the moment his sweet voice reached your ears. “Shh, shh. It’s not,” you croaked, breathing shallow and opened your eyes. While trying to smile, your hand automatically searched for his, but you were too weak to move, nonetheless, feeling a faint pull too. “It’s never too late. At least we now know how it works. How people found out about the myth. The death of one means freedom and knowledge for the other.”

“No,” he lifted his head, his hair glued to his sweaty forehead, not breaking the eye contact you established earlier. “No! I don’t want freedom and knowledge if it means to have a life without the possibility of having you in it!”

“Then save me.”

#jaskier x reader #jaskier imagine #jaskier one shot #jaskier fanfiction #jaskier x y/n #jaskier x you #jaskier #jaskier the witcher #the witcher #viascribbles #my writing #the witcher imagine #the witcher fanfiction #the witcher oneshot #fanfiction

68 notes · View notes

ddaenghoney · 5 years ago

Text

chapter seventeen

masterlist link in blog description.

As a successful songwriter, you want nothing more than the acknowledgment that the chart-topping musical pieces are your own creations. But contracts, relationships, and the difficulty of facing the stakes involved head on, keep your mouth shut until pressure builds too much.

Pairing(s): Park Jimin x Y/N, Min Yoongi x Y/N

disclaimer: any characters depicted do not represent the actual personality of the respected idol in real life.

Series warning(s)/genre(s): Chapter-based written fic, Slow-burn relationship(s), Fake-dating, Unrequited love, Songwriter/producer!oc, idol!Jimin, idol/songwriter/producer!Yoongi, friends with benefits, drama, romance, smut, angst, fluff (updated as needed)

Chapter warning(s): quite a bit of unsettling/paranoia themes around the middle of the chapter (again in regards to stalking from fans). Also, some making out that alludes to more after it !

Word count: 5481

if you enjoy please, please let me know!

Headlines of multiple news sites, trending hashtags, and seemingly hundreds of threads in online forums center around the topic that goes viral the day after. With SoundWave wasting no time to act subtly, choosing to take a blunt rebuttal of the independent release of music, they announce a separation of SUGA from the label. Without offering much other than the central reasoning in the official statement attributing a lack of loyalty, and openly rebellious attitude in the way of involving his personal relationships into his music without consent of the company, Yoongi’s public reputation takes a giant strike.

The primary attitude of his fanbase is startled confusion, as is similarly the feelings of pop culture commenters, who all agree that this action made by SoundCloud seems incredibly rash considering how high of status the title SUGA has in the music industry. A threshold of rumors contaminate social websites, all trying to gauge underlying motivations for the company’s decision to completely drop Min Yoongi from the label, feeling like there has to be more words each side could make but holds back.

With slowly passing weeks of conversation stirring faster from the sensationalized wonder that accumulates in the silence of both involved parties, fandoms grow impatient. A future tour scheduled to begin early next year is obviously squashed, and the subtle hints of new music thrown far from any burner of focus. Worry holds a multitude of loyal fans who are eager for clarification from their favorite idol, but no answers are clearly given. Blurry images of Yoongi to and from SoundWave only serve to prove that there are talks going on, especially when sightings of him and Taehyung begin growing consistent as well as thought to be moving vans relocating assumed sound equipment.

Naturally, frustration builds. Latching in tight grips onto every instance your name or image appears on the internet, angry shouts question your involvement with this entire ordeal. Confused as people are, they have little doubt that you deserve the bulk of blame for this dissent between Yoongi and SoundWave. After all, everything had always seemed steady in growth for SUGA’s career before your public involvement with him.

You realize this isn’t true. So much of the situation still lingers in the darkness, far from cameras and microphones to state the severity of everything that led the sequence of events to this point. You know that this whole problem isn’t entirely your fault, but it feels like it. Words cling to your psyche every time you try to peruse even the filtered social media feed of those you follow on instagram, but the comments still remain and grow on every one of your own posts, making you delete the app after only three days into the chaotic situation.

Apologies become common, though usually squashed within your reply to whenever Yoongi tells you them. Worry brims in his eyes just as well as his chest every time he notices anything off in your expressions that relate to all of the responses online. You’re quick to state that this isn’t his fault either, and not to worry about the silence he’s forced to keep while legal affairs are being handled. You’ve already settled yourself with the high chance that he won’t ever be able to make a statement that gives out the picture, just like you won’t ever be able to without losing every royalty you have.

While the online response does burn on your nerves, you can calm yourself by remembering it will eventually blow over to a new topic. It could take a lot of time, but eventually you’ll be able to not be the villain in every assumed narration of Yoongi being fired from SoundWave. Instead, concern wraps around any thoughts you have towards a new job.

With your work history visibly clean of any ink on your resume, you don’t have much to say to combat the fact. And as such you simply use your degree as well as projects from when you were a college student to talk yourself up. But you aren’t naive-- you realize that the gap of time from you receiving your diploma to the current date unease potential employers.

At this point, you’re no longer surprised. The man sitting across from you sits tapping his pen on papers in front of him. They’re spread in a controlled mess on a folder you brought. His eyes scan the words over, but because of the minute hand on the clock behind him reaching a new number, you’re inclined to believe the silence so far isn’t favorable.

Answering the initial questions isn’t usually difficult. In fact, you believe you win over a few uncertain glances in the way you speak with experience, but any opinion gained usually diminishes at the skinny portfolio you present. Every time you’ve passed it, you also feel underwhelmed by the humble sight of it, garnering none of the weight you should have the thin wings filled with. All of that is within your mind.

All of the tension in your mind fills more and more, contemplating what there is to take away from your meager showings of visible experience. This tension comes to a throbbing disappointment when the majority of those who have looked at the portfolio mention Yoongi’s name under their breath.

A large part of you becomes increasingly defensive from these tiny comments. Controlling your mouth from blurting questions in reply to their intentions is a difficult task, especially when the issues have been consistent. Multiple misinterpretations veil over the actual situation underneath the media’s depictions and what your residual contractual obligations to SoundWave will let you fix.

The man’s eyebrows furrow, his head tilting as something he sees perplexes him. You don’t openly react, simply sitting in the chair, legs not particularly tensely poised on the floor and your back only erect enough to be formal. Posture forgot a few interviews ago in favor of knowing glances at the employers body languages when reading through. This subtle confused realization on his face is familiar, but you smile politely as he gets up stating he needs to step out for a moment. As though he’s the first one to go ask questions about you to other people.

Walking into the lobby from the small meeting room, you do little more than sigh, reaching to rub your shoulder as you contemplate your next action. The man’s voice when he came back to the room and stated you’ll get contact in the future if they’d like to explore job opportunities was entirely monotone, and you can’t even be offended by the fact at this point.

Still, reality weighs on your shoulders, growing uncomfortably nagging, and at quickening paces when televisions like the one hanging on the opposite wall post pop news stations with Yoongi’s pictures and titles of dissention between himself and SoundWave.

“Oh,” A voice from the side disrupts the settling glare in your eyes. Softening your expression to one of surprise you turn your head as a figure comes to you. A smile on her face that seems disingenuous, but fitting when matched with the consistent brand name on each article of clothing apparent. “It was Y/N, right?”

In the medley of companies you set out to try landing jobs at, you didn’t take into consideration their current idols. More interested in just getting a place to continue working. But as Seulgi approached you from the way of the elevators, there’s a piece inside of you somewhat glad you’re likely to be rejected from this one. “Yeah.”

“What a coincidence to run into you here.” She says as she places her phone in her handbag. “Looking for work? Heard that you’ve taken a chance at the music production world.”

For the sake of pleasantry, you don’t irritably sigh from having to deal with this immediately following an unsatisfying industry. Instead just shrug your shoulder, “Something like that.”

“Guess it hasn’t been going well,” You’re unable to stop your eyebrows from narrowing at her, but Seulgi is unhindered from your evidently growing annoyance. “It’s a hard thing getting through scandals, especially when you don’t have anything to show for yourself.”

“Such a hard thing that you didn’t mind shoving your boyfriend into it.” You roll your eyes, head shaking as you start to walk away.

“Well, actually,” She catches up to your pace, overlapping you to cut off your trec to the front doors. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. Hoseok could use a hand, right? If you want to try to get some work, why not ask him? Independent work is good to help build a resume-- though, I guess Hoseok’s reputation and Yoongi’s current one don’t make companies feel comfortable-”

“What are you trying for here?” Your tone causes a falter of expression in Seulgi’s face, shifting it into a muted shock. Her smile replaces itself with pursing lips, then eventually the picturesque way she poses her shoulders also deflates. Appearing much less superficial, though now openly tired with frustration from the little act she tried to play with you.

“What? I can’t try and do a nice thing for my ex?”

“Ex that you threw under the bus.” Unhesitant. You cross your arms. “Why in the world would I think you’re not trying to gain something right now too?”

“You’re just like Yoongi--I get the relationship now.” She sighs, playing with her hair as her eyes trail off to nowhere. “Well, the relationship you ended up getting yourself after all.”

Your arms tense over your front, quietly startled that she seems aware of the false beginning with your relationship with Yoongi, and even acknowledging that it’s currently real. Part of you wants to question how she’s found out the tidbit of information, though it’s not a top concern of yours. The small fact that she has methods to get information throughout the industry is odd, but you doubt it needs to be a worrisome issue.

“Anyways, I was just offering a suggestion. Three songs aren’t going to cut it to get top companies like this one to let you in.” As if you needed her to say that when the past week has only been proof of that. Seulgi adjusts the hoodie she wears so that it no longer falls off a shoulder, and her eyes appear introspective for the moment of silence before speaking again. “You’re not going to get anywhere without stepping on a few people along the way. You can’t play along with all the rules and expect to succeed.”

If her tone remained snarky, you would have shot a comment in return, as the instant thought in your brain relates Seulgi’s words to her actions against Hoseok in the past. However, the simplistic way she spoke was calm, almost bordering into a somber timbre hidden beneath the surface. At that moment you feel like you see something inside of that shadow, but you don’t have the liberty of pondering it.

“Seulgi, I thought you were using the big dance studio right now.” A voice enters into the conversation, making Seulgi’s head turn back towards the entrance. Looking beyond her, you see a face you again would have expected if you took any consideration to the companies you were skipping through for interviews. “Oh,” Jeongguk’s eyes widen, catching sight of you, a smile forming as he speaks on in happy surprise, “Y/N! It’s been a while since I’ve seen you.”

“Hi, Jeongguk.” You give a little smile and nod as a greeting.

“Yeah, I’m late.” Seulgi speaks up while she takes a step to begin a smooth leave, eyeing Jeongguk then you in curiosity of how there’s a mutual connection. But her final words have nothing to do with questions. “Sorry about that whole thing at my party, by the way. Taking your date and all. Just getting a conversation Yoongi owed me.”

Her vague insinuation makes your eyes narrow, following her figure as she casually goes. Already knowing the content of the conversation she had with Yoongi, you’re left to assume that she speaks in a way to ingrain seeds of uncertainty or jealousy under your skin, but all the needless comment does is further you from any positive opinions of Seulgi.

“Something about that seemed hostile.” Jeongguk states as the two of you watch Seulgi disappear down a hall. Instead of screaming out intelligibly from the frustration of your day so far, you just exhale a long sigh, turning your head back towards Jeongguk. His mouth curls into a slightly uneasy smile, not sure of what he just stumbled in on, “Everything okay?”

“I can’t wait to go home and sleep, to be honest with you.” You admit, trying to get humor into your voice, but you’re sure your expression betrays any chance of a joking ambiance as Jeongguk slowly nods bouncing his long locks of soft, warm-toned pink. “Your band is going to be performing at the river festival this weekend, right? Saw online.”

“Yeah, we have a set in the late evening. You going?” His demeanor is wholly casual, pronounced further in the relaxation of his shoulders and lazily situated hands in the pockets of his big hoodie.

“I would, but now’s not really the best time for me to be doing much out.” You smile as your eyebrows furrow a bit. For a moment you consider the fact that he may not know anything, as you recall him not being one to peruse comment sections of social media sites. But as Jeongguk’s lips cast into a frown, he recalls the news your words refer to,

“Oh, right; I heard about that all.” He bites his lip, while removing a hand from the confines of his pocket to push back hair from his face. “Actually, I’ve been out of the country with my group for almost six months now, and, it’s not really my place to ask, but have you been okay since,” He pauses, quickly taking a scan around the area like others may be listening in. “Well, you know.”

You nod your head, understanding that he means to inquire about your state of mind since breaking things off from Jimin at the beginning of the year. “For awhile I really wasn’t,” You admit, but find yourself able to smile as you continue on with full assurance, “But I’m more than okay now. My career may be sort of crazy, but I have people that care about me, so I’m fairing a lot better than I would’ve ever thought.”

“That’s good.” Jeongguk smiles, and parts of you are sure that perhaps he’s even the smallest bit sad that there isn’t hesitation in your voice because his friendship with Jimin would likely root for the fact. But he’s not unfair in that regard, always having been a supportive, close friend of Jimin, but not to the extent of harboring ill sentiment about things like this. “If you’re looking for song writing work just let me know; my band liked the three tracks you and Yoongi released, and I always thought it’d be cool to work with you on lyrics anyways.”

“What?” You blurt in surprise, eyes widening from the easygoing proposition, “Wait, really?”

“Yeah,” Jeongguk grins in return, wondering silently if the offer is odd because of your reaction. “I mean, why not, right?”

“Even if I’m not an employee here?” You question, still in disbelief at how simply he’d asked for even bits of collaborative work in the future. Where you have been learning to anticipate a lot of hesitation, and even flat out refusal from all of your interviews so far, Jeongguk breaks the cycle out of nowhere. Perhaps you should not be as excited from the simple prospect as you are, but you’re unable to stop yourself from the little success making you vibrant with joy.

“You don’t need to be an employee of any company, Y/N, your skills already speak for themselves to me.”

When you step outside of the building, Jeongguk’s words remain at the forefront of your mind. You type a location on the map digitally showing on your phone screen, unconsciously setting up a call for a taxi, but you think only of the small piece of hope given to you from the offer. The more you consider it, you believe there exists a deeper lesson from that small interaction. It’s like he said to you; the company isn’t as important as your own skills.

You bite your lip, thinking of any contacts made throughout the years. Frankly, not many people beyond SoundWave met you because of your job, but there were still some small acquaintances you’ve gained. Some friends as well, though fewer than you could count with your fingers perhaps. It’s unlikely many would jump at the opportunity to work with you in light of the current news, but perhaps there’s something to consider down that avenue.

Your spine tightens slightly, and suddenly you feel overly aware of the area around you. You lift your eyes from your phone screen to across the street beyond cars going along to wherever. People walk normally as the beginnings of evening traffic occur as they would any day of the business week. With a small shake of your head, you ignore the suspicion in your nerves, letting yourself check notifications on your phone instead as the taxi descends towards you from a few blocks away.

Alerting Yoongi that you’re going to head to his apartment to help him move around items delivered from the company, you eventually press the lock on your phone screen and turn your attention down the road to see if you can spot your taxi’s license. In the same direction is the stairwell into a subway station with its constant flood of people in and out that never remain in the area longer than it takes them to walk. But perched with their elbows on railings overlooking the descent into the subway is a small group of three similar in age to the ones assumed to follow you to Namjoon’s cafe.

Your eyes linger on their figures for a noticeable amount of time, and you don’t believe them to care that they’ve been spotted. You bite your inner cheek, and look back to the taxi app for the time of arrival. Your stomach knots, but you try not to focus on it, because of this occurrence being more regular in the past couple of weeks. If you kept your mouth shut and thoughts from roaming frantically, it would be over just as soon as you stepped into the taxi.

A bump on your shoulder startles you, shaking your heart around in the ribcage, as your throat assumes the worst by trapping air. A businessperson continues along, however, simply going up the road as they chatter away on their phone, completely unaware of the tiny collision. You swallow the air back down, squeezing your phone tightly as it vibrates a tiny series of beats to signify the taxi is soon to arrive.

As you look on at the back of the random person, you notice more eyes in your direction. These ones from a college-age duo, you think. But they’re clearly focused on you, walking on the sidewalk in your direction. Your leg muscle tightens, becoming highly alert of the phone’s they have clutched close to their chests with the camera lenses evident.

The abrupt stop of brakes in front of you brings you back to your current position as does a quick honk from a car bothered by the stop of your taxi as it drives around. Without hesitation you enter inside, stating an affirmative as the driver asks if you were the one with the given destination on his GPS. You can’t contain the sigh of relief flooding out of your lungs as he merges into the flow of traffic and away from the individuals whose walk stopped to stare at the leave of the taxi.

You have high doubts that if the people were truly fans that they would berate you or angrily yell, but nonetheless you didn’t want the onslaught of questions they more likely had prepared to be said in civil voices. You already had the displeasure of weaning along a forceful and awkward conversation on a subway train days earlier. Leading you to start avoiding that means of transportation entirely now.

Arriving at Yoongi’s front door, your finger presses to ring the bell. Listening to the muted sound on the inside you feel your shoulders jumping ever so slightly at the sound, but you shake your head to rid away the sensitivity. Really no one had been belligerent towards you, you were overthinking any of the things that could have happened. Another twitch in your shoulders induces with the knob twisting and with it the door opens to reveal Hoseok whose face eventually slips into a pout,

“Wow, don’t look so disappointed.” He teases you as you roll your eyes and walk inside. “You should be thanking me since I did most of the heavy lifting before you got here.”

“Thanks,” You smile at him in an overly polite manner that causes Hoseok to scoff and shake his head in amusement. “I’m sure you were more than willing to since Yoongi offered to get you a fancy dinner as payment-”

“Wait, don’t tell him that; I was going to avoid it.” You turn towards the way of the bedrooms as Yoongi walks into the living area from it, hair tousled from moving furniture and a loose t-shirt hanging off his shoulders comfortably. You watch him grin as Hoseok shouts an irritated rebuttle about Yoongi’s deflection of payment for helping. As Yoongi comes to a stop a mere couple of feet from you his eyes look towards you and before you know it the teeth peeking from his joke drift away while his brows furrowed with concern, “Angel, what’s wrong?”

You shake your head, trying to disburse the worry in your shoulders that you apparently had not been successful to not think about. Wordlessly Yoongi steps closer, initiating a hug that you finish by clinging your arms around his torso.

Hoseok frowns in confusion since you had seemed fine when he opened the door, but glancing up at Yoongi whose eyes are just as unsure of the problem Hoseok decides it’s probably the result of some kind of build up. “‘m going to get that last box unpacked.”

“Thanks.” Yoongi says as his hands rub trails on your back, waiting for Hoseok to leave the room before speaking up again, “Baby, do you want to talk about it?”

“No, I’m just overthinking something.” You mumble against the cotton soaked in the familiar scent of laundry detergent. With a small sigh you adjust yourself to look up towards Yoongi whose attentive gaze meets yours. Gently he presses a small kiss against your forehead, settling his hands on your sides to give a little comforting squeeze.

“Was it more people following you around?”

“Yeah,” You hide your face against his chest again as you put the problem in the air. “It really, really wasn’t anything much. I just want a hug. It’s been a long day because of the whole job interview session parade I went on too.”

“I can do hugs,” Yoongi nods before perching his chin atop your head. The moment lingers on, granting a warming comfort as you remain encapsulated in Yoongi’s arms. But he can’t help a final, quiet question that is likely the reason for the rate of his heartbeat in your ear. “Did anyone do anything to you, angel?”

“No.” You squeeze your arms around him. “I doubt any of them really would. They probably just want to get information. It’s just uncomfortable.”

“Yeah, it is.” Yoongi’s chest fills from the breath of an inhale as he thinks of all the other instances since news of him being let go from SoundWave released. “I’m sorry, angel, once all the paperwork is done, I’ll try and figure out something to say to the press about everything.”

“It’s okay, Yoon.” You pull away to press a pecking kiss against his lips. He notes your expression to be considerably calmer than minutes earlier. “Really, it’s okay. It’s not your fault anyways. But besides that all, I do have some good news.”

“Oh, yeah?” He keeps his hands on your waist while your arms drop from their gentle encapture of his frame. Your quick nod matching the beginnings of a smile on your lips give Yoongi more cheerfulness as well, “Tell me then, sweetie.”

“I saw Jeongguk earlier and he said he’d be willing to work on songwriting together sometime.” You explain, allowing the excitement you felt then to take over the bulk of your tone. Inquisitively Yoongi’s head tilts,

“Jeon Jeongguk? Where did you see him at?”

“His company after I got interviewed--oh, right, I don’t think I’ve mentioned to you I know him.” You ramble along earning a chuckle from Yoongi as he nods to that fact as well. “Well, I met him through Jimin a couple of years ago, but he’s really nice. It was just an innocent offer on his part.”

“Yeah, I believe that-- he’s really easygoing.” Yoongi nods, turning his head to the hallway as yours looks in the same direction at the sound of Hoseok cursing as he hops on one foot into view while his other foot stays clenched between his two hands.

“I hit my toe on the corner of the door into the room-” He says with a wincing voice, “Didn’t mean to interrupt the emotional fest-- it just really hurt, and I think I should be owed more than just a fancy dinner because of it-”

“If it keeps you from suing me.” Yoongi shakes his head and refrains from laughter like the kind leaving your mouth as you listen to their conversation. Yoongi goes back to resting his head on yours, this time pressing his cheek on top of your scalp when you hug him once more. “But I’m picking the place to eat at.”

“That doesn’t even make sense if it’s supposed to be a payment to me.” Hoseok scoffs as he dramatically hobbles to the couch where he collapses himself onto it. “Y/N, if you asked your best friend to help you move your heavy equipment and this same friend stubs his toe doing it-- and this best friend and you are also getting into a partnership, would you just give him a dinner as payment?”

“Partnership?” You repeat as your eyes narrow, honing in on the one word that slipped into Hoseok’s monologue. “And no I’d buy my friend at least a house.”

“See!”

“A house,” Yoongi murmurs through pouting lips as Hoseok claps his hands to your method of penance. “He already has a nicer apartment than mine-”

“Wait, what did you mean about a partnership, Hoseok?” You ask, poking Yoongi’s stomach to get him to quiet from the tickling sensation. Hoseok actively twiddles his thumbs instead of a verbal. He glances towards Yoongi who responds to his antics with a sigh as he tugs himself off the comfort of hugging you.

“He and I were thinking we’d start our own label.”

“What!” Your eyes grow wide glancing towards Hoseok then back to Yoongi. “Your own music label? Like an idol company too?”

“Well, yeah.” Yoongi says without a lot of conviction as he shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t know how many people would actually want to become an idol through us, but at least for Hoseok and I it would be a good way to keep doing music. And on our own terms.”

You stand looking at him awestruck, not at all anticipating the two of them to come to this type of business plan for the future. Frankly, you weren’t sure at all what Yoongi intended to do without SoundWave, but you would have sooner assumed he would simply relocate to another company. The requests for him to do so would no doubt flock after a month or two of the current news becoming history.

“Hey,” Hoseok gets up from the couch, phone in hand as the two of you look over to him. “I’m meeting a friend in a while, so I’ll get out of here. Don’t forget that you owe me a really fancy meal-”

“I get it, I won’t.” Yoongi rolls his eyes as he follows Hoseok towards the front door to see him off. You simply watch, still in a stupor from their casual way of telling you that their idea is to create their own fucking company. You wave at Hoseok as he shouts out a goodbye to you and walks out the door. Yoongi turns towards you as it shuts with an electronic click, finding you still baffled by the news. He rubs the back of his neck as he returns towards you. “We sound crazy?”

“No,” You shake your head and let it tilt as your imagination takes over to see an outcome where the two of them operate a successful idol company. With their production skills and overall talent with music, it didn’t seem far fetched that they at least make a small company that runs well. “I think you both should do it.”

Yoongi smiles gently at the hopeful gleam in your eyes. His hand falls from toying with the small hairs on the back of his neck to find itself entangling your own appendage with a delicate hold. “You’re free to do anything you want, angel, but I was thinking--and Hoseok agreed-- that you could join us and be a producer if we make a company.”

“Me?” Your voice barely mumbles the response, eyes struck wide in surprise at his offer.

“You don’t have to at all--I really understand if you don’t want to take the risk of it instead of finding a place that’s already settled, but,” Yoongi bites his lip, fiddling with your hand as he holds it. He finds your eyes as he sweetly smiles “It can be an option for you.”

With the two happy surprises of the day swimming in your chest, you stand in a stunned quiet as you take them in. For Yoongi and Hoseok, despite their respective scandals, you don’t have any doubt that they could definitely make something out of this idea for themselves. Especially happy about Yoongi being able to do as he wants for himself if they start a company. He’d be completely in control of his representation in the way that he hasn’t had ever since his debut.

And his offer gives the same freedom for yourself to create songs like you’d always wanted as well.

“Of course, I’m sure there’s a lot we have to do to get everything going, so really don’t feel bad about saying no-”

Interrupting his sentence by pressing your lips onto his chattering mouth, You let your arms wrap around his neck, silently grateful for Yoongi's hands steadying the two of you by finding a firm grip on your hips. “I say yes.”

Anticipation and excitement ricochets throughout your chest, exuding outwardly in your smile that you find Yoongi quickly returning with a growing grin. Running his hips in lips trails along your sides, he keeps silent in favor of kissing you again, practically bruising your lips with his own. Your hands mesh into soft locks of black hair, keeping Yoongi held in place as the kiss deepens into an oxygen depriving attachment.

Allowing time for air only when your mouth gasps as Yoongi’s hands find your backside and with a squeeze pulls your waist against his own, your eyes open along with his as you both take in quick sips of air, momentarily frozen from continuing action. Yoongi’s jaw clenches shut as you very obviously allow your hips to grind friction. He watches the beginnings of a smirk take over your expression, and stops the teasing attitude to dip his lips down to your neck.

There his trails tiny molten kisses along the skin, searching until your fingertips curl against his scalp and a small whimper casts out of your mouth. Attaching to the spot, his mouth blisters in a garden meant to flourish red and purple by next sunrise, and his hands continue to press into your ass riding up the fabric of your skirt as a moan escapes your lips, “Yoongi-”

“Do you want me to stop, angel?” He asks with a rough timbre the contrasts the soft ministrations he trails from the love bite to reach your mouth once more. Kissing the outline of your jaw, he hums against the skin waiting for your reply which comes as your hands remove from his hair to cup his face and bring his lips back to yours,

“Not at all.”

if you enjoy please, please let me know via ask, comment, rb with tags– however ! i’d just really appreciate feedback 🥺 i hope you enjoy the series, i’m working really hard on it! : )

also yes ik this chapter cuts off right before the smut lsjkdfkfdghg it’s also not going to be continued into the next chapter sO lkjdsffgdsfjkfg if it’s something you’d like to read as a blurb on its own lmk while commenting on this chapter hehe shameless incentive and i’ll try to write it as an additive piece to the story!

tag list (send an ask to be added): @jaiuneamesolitaiire @tsvkino-usagi@xionysus @baebyjoonie @honeyoongles @betysotelo18

73 notes · View notes

cotillion-the-rope · 5 years ago

Text

Not Hollow Chapter Six: Family

I tried really hard to write a proper fight scene, it's why this chapter took so long to come out, but it just wasn't happening. And the harder I tried to force myself through the more frustrated and discouraged I got so I settled on handling the Radiance fight the way you'll see in this chapter. It's not as epic as I wanted it to be but the focus of he story has always been more about their relationships anyway so it's not the end of the world.

Hornet was taking longer to return than she’d said she would, a lot longer. Which should’ve been fine but… Hollow was lonely. Since dragging themself out of the Black Egg, they hadn’t been alone for any significant length of time. Though compared to how long they’d been alone in the Egg, this was nothing. So they were fine, this was fine!

They stood up anyway and walked over to peer out the window. Maybe they should go look for them? Hornet was more than capable of taking care of herself and Grimmchild had to be with her so they should both be perfectly fine. But… if the Pale King could die then so could Hornet. Hollow couldn’t bear the thought of losing her especially after just learning of their father’s death. So… they side stepped to the door and opened it to poke their head out.

Normally they didn’t leave the house unless Hornet brought them out either for a walk or to train with their nail for a bit. But like it or not, they had emotions and thus they were worried about their sister and Grimmchild. They were worried about their chained sibling too as well as the entirety of Hallownest. … They were worried just in general.

So, unable to stay still for any longer, they stepped outside. Now… where to go to find Hornet? She was working on finding a way to access the Dream Realm, where would she go to do that? … Hollow had no idea. Their entire world consisted of the Abyss, the White Palace, the Black Egg, and now Dirtmouth, they’d never been anywhere else except for while passing through. They’d heard of places like the City of Tears and Teacher’s Archive but didn’t have even the faintest clue where they might be or how to get to them. So… the only starting point they had was down the well into Hallownest proper.

They started for it, not letting themself look right or left in an attempt to at least hide their worry from the outside world since they couldn’t bury it within themself. Not that there were many people out and about right now, just Elderbug next to the bench, even Zote was currently inside somewhere.

“Oh, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you out and about all by yourself,” Elderbug said when Hollow inevitably ended up passing by him. They could’ve gone around and snuck past him but they were so used to faking to themself that they didn’t care about such things that the thought not to take the shortest past hadn’t occurred to them until just now. Alas it was far too late.

They gave him a small shrug in response because how else were they expected to respond? They preferred being primarily ignored like how the knights and dignitaries at the White Palace had treated them.

“It’s good to see. Don’t hesitate to rest on the bench if you need it, I wouldn’t mind the company.” … Well at least he was kind, that was honestly kind of nice even if Hollow knew even less how to respond to that.

They nodded at him before moving on.

Upon reaching the well, they looked down it, hoping against hope that maybe Hornet would be down there, about ready to start ascending. Alas, they had no such luck. So, after double checking to make sure that their nail was attached firmly to their back, they vaulted over the edge. They landed at the bottom with a small thunk. Getting back up would be hard with only one arm but that was a problem for the future that hopefully Hornet would be there to help them with like she had when they’d gone up initially. For now, they picked a direction and started walking.

They ended up going to the Black Egg Temple. They hadn’t intended to, it just kind of happened in part because so nearby. Ghost was in the Egg inside, chained and suffering and it was Hollow’s fault. … They should’ve tried to tell Hornet that their sibling wasn’t hollow sooner, insisted that she help them. Then they wouldn’t have been chained up in there alone for so long and maybe they wouldn’t have cracked. It was too late now though but at least Hollow had finally said something.

And now that Hornet knew and was working on the problem, she would fix it. … But then again, Hollow had had that same kind of confidence and unwavering belief in the Pale King and that had turned out like this and with him dead. So… maybe Hornet couldn’t fix it? She was a demi-god but even gods could fail and die as proven by the Pale King. Having complete confidence in her might just lead to more disappointment, sadness, and possibly even suffering. … Hoping she could fix it was fine though, right? Maybe, maybe not, either way it was all Hollow had left. … It wasn’t much.

They turned and left, more eager than before to not be alone with their thoughts. It wasn’t long before they encountered an Infected husk. They cut it down with ease. It actually felt almost good to use their nail for something real for once. Enough that following that, they may have even gone a bit out of their way to find and take down more husks. They didn’t know where they were headed anyway so they might as well relieve some stress along the way.

They’d just finished taking down a group of them when…

“Hollow?!”

They looked over to see Hornet approaching. Good! Their search for her was done and she was safe. But where was Grimmchild?

“What are you doing out here?” she asked. “Besides killing husks.”

They didn’t reply. They’d left the parchment and quill back home so they couldn’t answer properly even if they’d been inclined to. Which they weren’t because admitting they’d been starting to worry about her wasn’t a confession they wanted to make because they weren’t meant to feel anything at all. And it was a rather silly thing to be worried about, Hornet was probably better at taking care of herself than Hollow was.

She looked like she was going to say more but was interrupted by a blue bug and Grimmchild coming around the corner. “You sure do like to go fast, huh?” the blue bug said as caught all the way up. “And ah, the Hollow Knight themself. It is nice to meet you. Your sister has told me a fair bit about you and your sibling’s plight. I’m Quirrel.” He gave Hollow a slight bow.

Hollow bowed back because, judging by the fancy nail at his side, he was a knight and therefore that was the proper response.

“Now,” Quirrel said as both of them straightened. “Let’s go kill the Radiance, shall we?” Oh? He was going to help with that? That also had to mean Hornet had found a way to access the Dream Realm. Good! … Now all they had to do was kill a god. Hopefully both of them were up to it, Hollow certainly wasn’t even if it was possible for them to try.

Hornet nodded before leaping to lead the way back towards the Black Egg Temple.

Quirrel, Grimmchild hovering behind his shoulder, fell in step with Hollow as they started following her. But counter to their expectations, he didn’t say anything. He seemed content to walk beside them in silence. It was a nice change of pace from most people Hollow knew/had known, they liked him already.

It didn’t take long to reach the Temple again; Hollow hadn’t strayed far from it. Hornet was waiting for them inside, standing by the Egg itself.

“This is where you come in,” she said, looking at Hollow. “None of use can afford to spend any significant amount of time in there. So we need you to go in, free Ghost of their chains, incapacitate them and then bring them out here. Do you think you can do that?”

Hollow would rather never go into the Black Egg ever again but… they didn’t have a choice. They were the only one who could go in safely and they had to save Ghost. If was their fault Ghost was in this mess and Ghost had saved them. So, resisting the urge to hesitate, they nodded. They could do this for their sibling.

“Good. I have some thread you can use to tie them up. You’ll probably have to knock them unconscious or at least stun them for a while too.” She pulled out a long string of thread out of one her dress’ inner pockets and held it up towards Hollow. “Once they’re out here, we’ll handle the rest, okay?”

Hollow nodded as they wrapped the thread loosely around their neck so they wouldn’t lose it. They then turned back to face the Black Egg and pulled the door open.

“Good luck,” Quirrel said, his tone strangely cheery when considering the seriousness of what they were all doing here. Grimmchild mewled in seeming agreement, flying a quick circle around all their heads.

Strangely encouraged by such tiny things, Hollow stepped into the Black Egg. The long hall to the center quickly proved to feel much shorter than dragging themself along it had made it seem thus it was far too soon before they were facing Ghost again. Their mask was cracked, their eyes filled with the poison light of Infection. … Hollow couldn’t bear to look at them.

They felt almost sick with shame and sorrow. This was their fault; Ghost shouldn’t have been made to go through that. If Hollow had been as pure as they were supposed to be, as the Pale King had believed them to be, then this wouldn’t have happened. It shouldn’t have! … Despairing about it wouldn’t help fix it though.

Hollow forced themself to look back up at Ghost. If only they had a way to assure them that it would be okay; that Hornet and her new friend Quirrel would do their best to save the day. But even if they had a way to speak, Ghost wouldn’t be able to understand much of their words anyway, their mind was too full of the Radiance’s light.

They unwound the thread from around their neck as they approached at last. With the chains in the way and only one arm to work with, winding it around Ghost proved to be rather difficult. But it was thin enough to fit under the chains when pulled the right way and they were quite used to having only one arm by now so they eventually got something that should be good enough, tying it tight in the back. It wouldn’t do much more than bind Ghost’s arms to their sides but that should be enough to prevent them from attacking at least.

Speaking of that though, Hollow bent down to collect Ghost’s nail on the floor. It was small enough that they could mostly fit it in one of the inner pockets in their cloak. Ghost would probably want it when this was all done, might as well save them a trip back into this wretched place.

Next, after checking once more that Ghost’s arms were bound tight to their sides, Hollow drew their own nail and struck the nearest chain, breaking it. They had vague memories of watching Ghost break with their chains, making this feel a bit weird but they didn’t let that slow them.

After breaking the final chain, Ghost fell to the floor with a loud clatter. The Radiance released a roar from within them, making Hollow flinch and tremble. Ghost at least was thoroughly bound, straining uselessly against Hornet’s thread.

Steeling themself, Hollow approached and crouched down beside them. They hated to do it but it had to be done so… they shifted their grip on their nail so that the butt of its hilt would be pointed straight down. They struck Ghost with it, right where the crack in their mask was. They went still for several moments but alas, only stunned, they soon started struggling again. So, Hollow struck again, a bit harder this time. Thankfully they went limp; thoroughly incapacitated just like how Hornet wanted. How long it would last was impossible to say with the Infection coursing through them, so Hollow should probably hurry.

They quickly hung their nail on their back before grabbing Ghost by a horn. They would’ve preferred to carry Ghost in a more dignified way but there was no way to pick them up like that with one arm that wasn’t slow and awkward and they’d prefer not to have to knock Ghost out again even more. So, holding them close but awkwardly, they straightened and fast walked out.

***

The Radiance’s burning bright light and anger drowned out everything else, especially Ghost’s own thoughts and feelings. So, when much of her attention turned away from them, they noticed. But even with their thoughts back, they were disorientated and thus it took them a bit to realize what was happening.

Hornet was here? So was Quirrel and Grimmchild? … Why though? And how? It didn’t make sense. … The Radiance hated them, she wanted them gone; she was trying to kill them. … Oh no! Ghost needed to help them. … They couldn’t though, the Radiance still had them in her thrall. Which meant Hornet, Grimmchild and Quirrel were going to…

Actually no, they were fighting back. More than holding their own too based off the Radiance’s slowly growing fear and desperation as well as increased anger. She refused to fade away and die and refused to be killed. She was going to kill any bug that got in the way of that.

Despite her determination, she was slowly but surely pushed steadily back. She was losing! Ghost’s joy about that made her angrier, distracting her and causing her to take a slash strong enough to deflate Ummu from Quirrel straight to the face. Half blind now, the wound gushed essence as she retreated but not fast enough to avoid more fire from Grimmchild and a barrage of spiked balls from Hornet.

The three of them chased her, clearly intent on killing her. … That’s what they were here to do, wasn’t it? Kill her and save Ghost. … No one had ever done anything like that for them before, they hadn’t thought anyone ever would either. They probably wouldn’t have believed it if the evidence wasn’t undeniable before them.

The Radiance eventually reached a point she couldn’t retreat any further. There wasn’t much room to fight up here but Hornet and Quirrel somehow managed anyway, taking turns attacking her and dodging with Grimmchild right beside them providing backup via a constant barrage of fireballs.

It was Hornet who delivered the final blow, leaping up high and tossing her needle into the large slash made Quirrel’s nail earlier. The Radiance roared in anger and pain as Hornet dashed forward to push it in deeper, twisting it inside her and pulling it down but not out, making the wound to her core even bigger. Essence poured out of it like a like a geyser, fill the Dreamscape with light as the Radiance died.

The next moment Ghost was awake, staring up at the ceiling of the temple. Their head pounded, making them feel a bit dizzy even before moving. Trying to move a hand up to touch where the pain radiated from resulted in them learning that their arms were bound rather tightly. Why would…

A happy mewl came from beside them a half second before they were engulfed in exceedingly warm wings. It was Grimmchild, he was much bigger and apparently very happy to see them as he nuzzled them while making happy sounds. If only Ghost could return his affections because they were quite pleased to see him again too.

“Grimmchild, I know you’re happy to see them but you need to move so I can untie them.” That was Hornet. She sounded exhausted but relieved.

Grimmchild made a noise of complaint but moved aside, allowing Hornet to lean in and untie whatever was keeping Ghost bound. She helped them sit up so she could unwind it fully. As soon as it was off it though, she… hugged them.

Ghost froze. They’d never been hugged before, what were they supposed to do? And it was Hornet! She was their sister yes but… she wasn’t the type to hug people, even those important to her.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, seemingly unbothered by the fact that they were stone-still in her arms. “I shouldn’t have… let you do that. I just didn’t think there was another way. Or… at least I should’ve done something sooner. I’m sorry.”

Ghost nodded as they relaxed, even returning her hug as they’d seen other bugs do when hugged by a loved one. With another chirp, Grimmchild’s wings were suddenly around them again and Hornet too this time, forcing them a bit closer. It was a bit awkward but… nice; hugs were nice.

***

“Why don’t you join them?” Quirrel whispered to Hollow who was staring at their siblings and Grimmchild hugging. What they were thinking was impossible for him to know but if he had to guess, it’d be that they wanted in on that group hug. They certainly deserved to be included in it.

True to that guess, Hollow only hesitated for a few seconds before crouching down beside them. They had only one arm so it was bit awkward but they managed to pull their family close, the three of them even adjusted themselves to help Hollow join them.

It was honestly one of the most beautiful things Quirrel had ever seen. The dregs of a broken family reunited at last, long overdue for sure. As nice as it was, Quirrel was a bit of an intruder here though. This should be a private family moment.

So, even though he was eager to talk to Ghost again and express he was happy that they were all right and that the Radiance was defeated, he turned and left for now. He, like them, Hornet and Hollow, could finally move on from his past as well as Hallownest’s. All of them were at long last free to do as they pleased. … He had a lot to explain to Lemm first though.

I was contemplating writing an epilogue about how Ghost, Hollow, and Hornet start moving on from all the Radiance stuff as a family (with Grimmchild there too of course) but I think I actually like it being more opened ended. Y'all can imagine for yourselves how they might start putting their lives back together.

#My writing #hollow knight #the radiance #Ghost & the hollow knight #Ghost & Hornet #Ghost & grimmchild #Hornet & the Hollow Knight

10 notes · View notes

bangtanfancamp · 5 years ago

Text

✨This or That!✨

Hello loves, I was tagged literal ages ago by @curly-bangtan (who is such a sweet human btw! Thank you for the tag :’) it’s impossibly sweet of you) and am in the backseat while road trippin so I’ve finally got some free time to fill this out! I’m so excited !! I love these things !so without further ado🙃 Lessss gooooo

• slow burn or love at first sight

I guess to clarify, I love an instant spark of attraction and a long treacherous road to resolution- while also being painfully obvious that there is attraction and also while being overtly flirty but no one has the emotional motor skills to just be upfront about it already

•fake dating or secret dating

Oh, 1,000,000% fake dating. It is one of the single greatest regrets of my life that no one has ever asked me to be their fake date or gf. Because I would have been F A N T A S T I C at it. But I guess I’ll never get to live out that pretend to real slowburn in real life after all.... also, secret dating can feel really sucky and isolating so I don’t recommend.

•enemies to lovers or best friends to lovers

Oh god, must I really pick between my children? My whole life it was best friends to lovers. Now that I am currently dating the guy who was my best friend, I really melt over the fiery tension of enemies to lovers ... GOD! it’s so satisfying!!! But I think best friends to lovers still has to squeak by just by an ounce. (I’m a softy at heart, what can I say?)

•oh no! There’s only one bed or long distance with correspondence

Oh far and away, the one bed trope! No contest. I also deeply regret that I haven’t figured out how to make myself attractive enough for someone to try to pull this one over on me. *sigh* well, what can you do? .... also, did a long distance relationship for...6.5 years? And yeah, if you’re a romantic like me- it is dreadfully unfulfilling, let me tell you.

•Hurt/comfort or Amnesia

Mother freaking amnesia A L W A Y S !!! Heck yes! Are there amnesia fics??? 🤭I’ve never found one! But I absolutely love this trope in stories and movies. One of my all time favorites- which AGAIN- has not had the decency to actually come to fulfillment in my real life: Like why has park Jimin never showed up spontaneously at one of my doctors appointments trying to convince me that we’ve been best friends who were secretly in love with other since we were 14 and we finally just got engaged or married a month ago and his life is incomplete without me but he’ll patiently wait for me to love him in return again in my own time but in the meantime, he’ll love me in any and every little way he can until I fall for him again? Huh? Where is it! .... was that too specific😅?

•Fantasy au or modern au

no contest. Give me medieval maidens and dragons any day. I live in modern day. Lemme tell you- she ain’t that special.

•mutual pining or domestic bliss

cue Schmidt from new girl-“I can do this AWL day, son- AWLLL DAY!!” Yessssss!!! Mutual pining is my crack! Give it to me! Always! Gimme it! (Why can’t I have the things that I want!) okay this is just a Schmidt quote/rant post now. ..... I really want to love domestic bliss. And some of the writers who are excellent at it absolutely take my breath away at how beautifully they romanticize the every day. But outside of their writing, I have no scope of how to conjure that wonder up on my own. It is a skill I deeply lack. In real life, I just wind up feeling like the bliss is boring- gimme some pining! Some angst! Some tension!!! Even if I do love me some fluff. Someone once I told me that I was in love with the idea of someone being in love with me. Gotta say, he’s not wrong.

•canon compliant or fix it fic

Honestly, I can’t say I’ve read very many of either. But I do like to see how people flex their creativity.

•alternate universe or future fic

My favorite tv show of all time is Fringe (god bless you, JJ Abrams). Your girl LOVES alternate timelines, multiple universes, flashpoint, paradox, butterfly/ripple effect- all of it!! Dear god, yes! Give it to me! (Also, every time I have a crush or dream that doesn’t work out, I comfort myself with the thought that somewhere out there, there’s an alternate timeline version of me that is happily existing with said boy or flourishing in said dream endeavor. It’s a tremendous source of comfort).

Although, I must say, in the comic realm, alternate universes can sometimes frustrate me- like genuinely, could we not just make the alpha timeline the most incredible one? Instead of the best relationships and plot threads never being actual canon?! Can we get it together??? Or are alternate timelines just the comic industry’s way of writing their own fix it fics, generations after the original protagonist has been painted into a corner. Also, how hard must that be? To write endlessly for the same character for 60+ years? We write one fic or a couple books for the same character... could you IMAGINE having to supply 60 years worth of consistent weekly or monthly context!!! Wild

•one shot or multi chapter

I prefer multi chapter because I prefer getting engrossed in an entire work/world. Usually I am left wanting with a well written one shot, because they’ve made it so real that I can’t stand not having more- so my greedy butt loves the feast of multi chapter so I can have as many delicious moments and details with these characters as possible.

I do however deeply admire the skill and brevity it takes to made a succinct one shot. @underthejoon and @kpopfanfictrash are both brilliant as heck at that. And it is admirable as all get out.

•kid fic or road trip fic

honestly, considering how much I swoon over men who are good with children in real life, and how much I look forward to being both pregnant and a mom one day, I really never get into kid or pregnancy fics. I just don’t? Don’t know why. But a road trip!???? Oh heck yes!!! 👏🏽Where 👏🏽do 👏🏽I 👏🏽sign 👏🏽up!!???👏🏽

•reincarnation or character death

Oh absolutely reincarnation. I love that. I blame sailor moon for that.....But also, I think it’s just very in line with my love of alternate universes and timelines. I love how everything is connected/weaves together and feels predestined in the best way. I’m a complete sucker for it

•arranged marriage or accidental marriage

Like @curly-bangtan I legit had no clue accidental marriage was a thing? Unless you count being drunk at Vegas and waking up with a ring or we’re on some Jacob and Leah/Rachel level ish (which is really and truly the WILDEST™️ story ever ya’ll) ..... but I love a good arranged marriage scenario. The tension/push pull and inevitable relenting is so fun. But will say though, why the heck do women always fight it? Like there’s literally a whole Kim taehyung or Kim Namjoon offering to voluntarily love you and you wanna whine about it???!?! How dare you

•high school romance or Middle Aged romance

This, again, one is a pretty firm, resolute one for me. I’ll take high school. I’ve always felt a little oddly uncomfortable with more mature™️ romance stories? Not sure why. But I think the really beautiful ones always hark back to the beauty of their feelings being refreshing like the innocence of their first love. I know I personally can over glorify youth, but I love coming of age romance (high school, college, twenties) and no one can stop me!!!! I will say though, I have a secret soft spot for the niche of story where people have loved the same person since they were young and the timing just never works out but they finally find each other when they’re older. (One day is like that, and film or movie, it will absolutely rip your heart out-my god, it’s beautiful)

•Time travel or isolated together

These are both freaking AMAZING! But if anything has been established in this post, I think it’s my deep love of alternate timeline/reincarnation/time travel stories. I think they’re all from the same cloth. I adore them (I just haven’t written one because I’m not sure I could do the subtlety of it any justice.) maybe one day. My favorite writers are rumored to have the same Myers’s Briggs type as me so maybe I too could someday have a fraction of their world building skill.

I 100% love both of these so neither is a loser. But give me isolated together AND one bed in the same fic???? Speakers blown

•neighbors or roommates

I have never had the pleasure of having an attractive neighbor, though I often pined for it. (I have a bomb idea for a neighbor Hobi fic though) I did have a cute neighborhood boy who occasionally cut the grass for us in high school. But that doesn’t really count.... anyway! I LOVE the idea of being roommates with an attractive boy!!! Like holy guac, can I please????? Cocktailing this trope makes me swoon harder than none other- best friends to lovers + roommates? Yes. Enemies to lovers + roommates? Holy heck. Soulmate au + roomates???? Hold my sweet tea. MUTUAL PINING AND ROOMATES!!!! Pregnant. Fantasy/magic au+ mutual pining + best friends to lovers + soulmate au + reincarnation + roommate au!?!?!?!! frickin dead in the streets, homie.

I cannot say enough how much I enjoy roomate au. In a serious conversation, I once legitimately told my current boyfriend that the idea of marriage freaks me out- but the idea of being best friend roomates with sexual tension sounds like a dream come true. God help me.

•sci fi or magic au

I love sci fi. Deeply. But I will never love logic more than magic. Ever. (All my infp’s! come join me in the comments. 🙈)

•body swap or gender bend

Body swap has always deeply intrigued me. Especially in film. But I’ve never seen it in a fic. I’ve always wanted somebody to be able to switch into my body to feel physically, mentally and emotionally like i do. The deepest level of empathy & jean grey telepathy if you ask me, even if the trope is generally used for comedy. But the idea of switching into a dudes body and having to deal with their anatomy low key freaks me the eff out. If I got stuck in jungkooks body, I don’t think I’d pee or shower for a week 🙈 sorry everybody. I was really sheltered ok? Please don’t come for me. Lol...... also, have never seen a gender bend fic. Not sure how that would work. Not my favorite idea.

•angst or crack

Angst is my crack.

Honestly though, if it’s well written, it doesn’t feel ‘angsty’- cuz that means whiny or clunky to me. Well written ‘angst’ just feels emotionally compelling, I think. My writing weirdly leans toward what I hope is real angst (I e solid, genuine conflict and not petulance), but when I seek out a read, I look for crack honestly.

• apocalyptic or mundane

I offer you one better- a love story of the beauty of the mundane amidst the apocalyptic.

*mic drop*

Seriously though, the setting provides enough tension usually. Especially if it’s zombie apocalyptic. Just let jungkook’s fingers delicately trace my palm and smile, sweet and lopsided at me in the candle light, while we hide away in our little bomb shelter that I’ve turned into a jungle garden to bring life into this wasteland a la secret life of arrietty. sigh. Maybe I need to write this....

My gosh!!! We made it to the end! That was so much fun! Thank you for tagging me, sweetness!💕✨ 🙂

I’ll add a tag list shortly- @laurelevermore @lamourche @bts-fantasy @urlocalkpoptrash @thedreaming-poet @kimcheeeeeeeeee @hayjeon @outrotearot7 @lorengarcia-yut @bts-luvvv @chicpalestinian @flyingchixenwing @glodenclosetau @space-mermaid-in-love @thiccasswonhoruinedmylife @minminslittlemonster

Copy and paste if you can. Or if you’re dealing with a piece of technological antiquity like me and it won’t let you, then screen record/screenshot it and pop back and forth between the tabs 😅(also Thanks for dealing with the completely unnecessary treatise I added beneath every bullet point. It was just so much for fun to explain WHY I chose each one than to just say yes/no. I’ve said it before, written brevity is just not my strong suit.)

40 notes · View notes