#ever since I read Dunk and Egg this has been on my mind | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cupcakemolotov · 3 years

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Match My Heart to Yours

Okay, since the Exchange reveals have been pushed back until Thursday (for very, very good reasons) I have decided to post a tiny thing to hopefully tide people over. I do sort of intend to write more on this, but I have been stalled for a few months which means I need to change things up. So here is the first bit, hopefully you all like it!

You can also read it here on A03.

Synopsis: Enzo has an plan. Caroline has some serious doubts, because first all, werewolf, hot or not. Alpha, even. A political marriage to a man with his dimples seems like a terrible idea.

Caroline paused, chopsticks hovering over her container of fried rice. Across from her, Enzo looked relaxed, no real tension visible as he reached for another eggroll. “Excuse me?”

“Gorgeous…”

She narrowed her eyes at his placating tone. “I should have known your offer to pick up dinner two towns over was a bribe. You don’t even like Chinese food. You cannot be serious.”

Her witchy best friend would walk through fire for her, but perfect egg rolls an hour after they’d been picked up should have dinged as an obvious bribe. Though this was not nearly big enough.

“Would I have made the drive if I wasn’t serious?” Enzo asked, sighing when her expression didn’t budge. “You know what I do. What I really do.”

Her gaze dropped to his wrist were a tattoo wound along the bones and tendons, the ink black and red, starkly visible against the olive of his skin. Usually he used the modern advances in makeup to hide what no magic could, because sometimes people were less understanding about this particular quirk of his magic than others. She’d never had a problem with it, but she was human and had no desire for his services.

Caroline speared a piece of shrimp and narrowed her eyes in warning. “I am very aware of what you do with your magic when you aren’t perfecting fireballs and lightning strikes, Enzo. No need to be rude.”

“Care…”

She chewed carefully, giving herself a moment so she didn’t do something stupid like throw the food at him. The wood floors were brand new. “I’m human. No witchy bloodlines for ten generations or more, and definitely not a werewolf. São Paulo proved that. In spades. So, seriously, there is zero reason for your magic to like me for this.”

A faint grimace. São Paulo had not been a good time. Not for anyone.

“You know it doesn’t always work like that,” he said patiently, dunking his egg roll repeatedly into the sweet and sour sauce, his expression wry. “Sometimes my magic has a mind of its own.”

She rolled her eyes. “Enzo, tell me something I don’t know.”

A small laugh escaped him. “True.”

“Have I ever done anything, absolutely anything, that would make you think I’d want to have a matchmaker stick their nosy magic in my life?” Caroline set her chopsticks down and started closing containers, her appetite gone.

A sigh. “No.”

“Damn straight. Isn’t there some kind of ritual involved? Blood magic? The romance novels I read on this subject insisted consent was a factor and blood had to be given willingly, much to the displeasure of several southern mamas.”

He deliberately finished his eggroll, sauce-soggy rice paper and all, chewing methodically. “Normally. This isn’t a… usual situation.”

“Normally?” Sitting back, Caroline waved her hand. “The food buys you an explanation. So start talking.”

Enzo leaned back, chair creaking, and ran a hand through his dark hair. “Look, you’ve been in Europe the last, what? Six months?”

“Eight, and should I be hurt you weren’t counting?”

He snorted. “You spent the last eight months chasing diamonds. Busy enough you even stopped answering texts in a timely manner, so I imagine you haven’t kept up with what’s been going on.”

“Excuse you? What text did I not respond to?”

“Emoji’s are not words, Caroline.”

Caroline pressed her chin to her palm, gaze narrowed. “Stop being old, Enzo. And let’s be clear. It’s not like I was chasing just any diamonds. These were expensive. The kind of expensive we peons can never actually afford to legally own.”

Enzo rolled his eyes. “I’ve seen your rate sheet. You do just fine.”

She grinned at him. “Thank you, I do very good work. But what does my previous job have to do with the completely ridiculous proposal you brought me?”

“Mason died.”

Caroline arched a brow. “Yeah, I saw. That was impossible to miss. International news, all those TV Pundits talking about who would take over as the US Alpha, blah blah politics. Since he had the bad taste to die outside of a challenge fight, I didn’t have time to worry about it.”

Enzo put the plastic lid back on the sweet and sour sauce, his expression unhappy. “That’s the problem. He did die in a challenge fight.”

“Huh?”

He sighed and pushed his chair back. “This is a bit of a complicated story. As nice as these chairs are, something a little more comfortable might not be adverse.”

“You’re not getting any of the beer in my fridge until I’m sure I’m not kicking you out.” She narrowed her eyes. “The odds are not in your favor.”

“Cruel, but I suppose well deserved.” His chin tipped towards his car, expression amused. “Is now a good time to mention the cheesecake in the trunk of my car?”

“Enzo!”

He laughed and sauntered into her living room, flopping his favorite squishy chair. Caroline picked the couch. She motioned for him to start talking, and he slouched a little further down.

“Look, a lot of this isn’t common knowledge, alright?” Enzo grimaced. “Though it should be and I’m not sure how much longer they are going to manage to keep a lid on how badly the Council screwed this up.”

“Cover up?”

“Among other problems.”

“Mason was their darling.” And, she knew, some factions had whispered, their pawn. She reached up and shoved her bangs back to hide her wince. “Losing a wolf so pro-witch would have been a blow. Losing the top Alpha who was also pro-witch is a political travesty.”

“Political travesty or not, Mason’s dead, and they’re going to have to deal with the new Alpha. He isn’t known for his tolerance.”

“Most werewolves are suspicious of magic,” Caroline pointed out, curling one leg underneath her. “Can’t really blame ‘em, with how they ended up as werewolves. Vengeance, magical curse. That sort of thing tends to sour peoples opinions, and then you know centuries later, they really improved things with their required silver legislation.”

“Yeah, you’re not wrong, but that’s not the kind of tolerance I am talking about.” He leaned back against the chair, and lifted his foot towards the coffee table, pausing, gaze darting towards her narrowed eyes. His foot thumped back against the floor. “The short version is that Mason was challenged, he lost, and the Witch’s Council, for lack of better words, bungled the announcement.”

“How do you bungle an announcement? Challengers have official channels they have to go through and everything.” She pointed at the TV. “They’ve even started wanting to televise the damn things, like it’s some kind of wrestling bout and not a fight to the death.”

Enzo rubbed a hand down his face. “From everything that I’ve been able to tell, Mason just… didn’t expect to lose.”

“That makes no sense. Mason wasn’t young, even by werewolf standards,” Caroline said slowly. “There have been rumors in Europe that he should have been disposed of as much as a century ago. They aren’t really sure why the packs here haven't risen up against him, particularly after the whole issue with his nephew abducting his bride after she’d been paired by the matchmakers to someone else.”

“Tyler Lockwood leads more with his dick than his brains,” Enzo agreed. “And that should have weakened Mason politically, spurring a few challenges. That it didn’t…”

“It’s only been ten years, and that isn’t that long for a werewolf,” Caroline pointed out. “It’s reasonable that the family of the disappointed groom would just now be in a position themselves to pick a fight. Hayley’s family is old blood but not particularly powerful.”

Enzo gave her a dry look. “When do werewolves ever wait to pick fights?”

“When they are going up against the top Alpha in the US and need public opinion behind them. The general public expects a dominance fight or a natural cause of death for all alphas,” she said dryly.

He nodded in approval. “For someone so disparaging of politics earlier, you do have an excellent grasp of the situation.”

Caroline tossed a cushion at him, which he caught with a grin. “Please, my Mom was the Sheriff and Dad, well, you know Dad. Conspiracy theories and hatred of anything that so much whiffed of the unnatural. But none of that explains what actually happened?”

“We think Mason was using magic to win his challenge fights.”

Her lips parted. “But that’s… the packs would riot. Because something like that…”

“It’s something the Witch Council had to be involved in.”

She inhaled sharply. “That would be a disaster.”

“It is a disaster,” Enzo said bitterly. “There have already been two executions, and several investigations are still pending. We’ve managed to convince the new alpha to hold back the public announcement, but he’s losing patience. We need a solid infrastructure of a plan in place, because humans don’t do well with surprises of this kind, and right now we’re barely holding the alliances together.”

“And what?” Caroline asked exasperated. “The remaining Council has decided to hire a matchmaker? They think since the new Alpha is single, they must be in want of a partner? You’re going to announce the change of leadership, the challenge fight, and then announce he agreed to be matchmade?”

“Something like that.”

“Who is going to trust the Council after something like this?” She shoved her hair away from her face. “If I was the Alpha, I wouldn’t touch anything that they touch with a ten foot pole. That includes matchmaking.”

“I wasn’t hired by the Council, though a couple of my… co-workers have taken those contracts.” He seemed to consider his words and then shrugged. “I was hired by Bekah.”

“Rebekah Mikaelson?” She said, brows arching high. “Why is she involved in this? And I thought you two didn't get along. The last time you were in the same room, she lit your precious robes on fire.”

Enzo’s mouth curved into a slow smile full of male satisfaction. “She’s an odd one, but it’s not the worst way I’ve had someone flirt with me.”

“And the time she declared matchmaking the worst magical school in existence and she hoped you did the world a favor and never reproduced?”

“Charming, isn’t she? I don’t think she really likes children in general.” He looked unbothered. “The bit about my magic was just an attempt to be clever. Her insults have gotten better the more she gets to know me. I appreciate her dedication to getting my attention.”

“Yes, and that is what I am going to put on your gravestone. You finally got the attention you always wanted.” Caroline shook her head. “Insults and spells aside, why did she hire you?”

“Because the Witch Council is right, in a way. It’s going to come out that Mason lost a challenge fight and the witches tried to cover it up.” Enzo reached up and rubbed the back of his neck. “A werewolf who is newly matched has more appeal than a single one, and it’s not a terrible way to divert the press.”

“Is he worried about appeal? Why are you worried about his appeal?” She threw up her hands. “He killed Mason. He is now unequivocally in charge. Why does appeal matter?”

“We need stability.” Enzo’s face went grave. “We can’t afford a year of dominance fights when we’re already struggling with sorting through Mason’s people for traitors. Announcing a match buys us time.”

Caroline froze. “You want the year truce.”

“We need that year, Gorgeous. I’m not sure we’ll survive without it. Pairing off the new alpha? It’s the only way we’re going to get it.”

“And you want me to marry him? Why?”

“Why not you? You’re smart, resourceful, and not bad on the eyes. That you're from a small town will add to your appeal. Small town girl meets werewolf Alpha, and it’s a match. People will love you.”

“I’m a Finder, Enzo. That’s not exactly the most politically correct of jobs.” Her gaze narrowed. “Am I even going to be able to keep working if I agree to this?”

“Once things stabilize, sure, why not?”

“You’re really selling this.”

Enzo shrugged. “You know that one of the true weaknesses of Mason’s was that he refused to find a mate or even attempt a match.”

There had seemingly been a good reason for that. Werewolves were blessed with supernatural strength, a lifespan that more than tripled a normal human’s, and were highly territorial. Most of the time, those instincts could be driven towards their pack and maintaining the careful balance that the world existed in. A werewolf in love was a dangerous creature. Werewolves fighting over their lovers more so.

It was why Enzo’s magic existed.

“Uh huh,” Caroline drawled, unconvinced. “You're really going to tell an Alpha he can’t claim what’s his unless he agrees to a match, the very thing the last alpha decried as unnecessary. How’s that going? I bet not well.”

“The sooner you say yes, the better, then.”

She glowered at him, but he looked unrepentant.

“Seriously Enzo, matchmaking magic or not, this cannot be your best plan. I cannot be the absolute best idea you have for this.”

“Why not?” He leaned back. “From where I’m sitting, it’s a fantastic plan.”

Caroline’s jaw dropped and she stared at him. He was serious. She knew that set of his jaw, the glint behind his eyes. Matchmaking wasn’t a science, it was magic. A fail safe, a terrible and beautiful promise: that somewhere out there, somewhere, maybe, a soulmate existed. And if you were lucky enough, maybe magic would find them for you.

“Enzo, seriously this time. Why even ask me? You know I’ve never been interested in matchmaking with a werewolf or witch. I like my life.” She spread her arms to include the house. “What you're asking me to do, asking of me, it changes everything. Why?”

He was quiet for several moments, his gaze unfocused. When he spoke, his voice was strangely serious. “My magic likes the match.”

She considered that, shifting to hug her knees to her chest. She’d been friends with Enzo since she was seventeen years old and she’d dragged his half unconscious body out of a car wreck that should have killed him. In turn, he’d been there for her when her mom died and her dad disappeared. He’d helped her get established in her career of choice, even though he’d been disapproving of the reasons why she’d chosen to go into it.

She trusted him.

Enzo liked to hide what he could do because he was so good at what he did, and she’d seen him drunk more than once post-match. His magic was not… unkind, but it wasn’t easy, what it demanded of him. To put two people together, with the intention that they’d make a relationship work for possibly hundreds of years. The weight of success and the pain of failure were both so heavy.

Enzo did not match lightly.

His magic liked the match.

Her stomach flipped as she really considered what that meant. No such thing as soul mates, Enzo always insisted, just the endless probabilities of human lives narrowed to a single red thread between two people. And here, he said, was her chance to see if this probability would work for her.

She couldn’t decide what that made her feel.

“You swear this isn’t about Dad?”

A tip of his head. “While I have no compunction about putting a few hundred werewolves between you and whatever mess he left behind, it’s not about him. You were right. My magic should never have considered you for this. You’ve never wanted to find a match, and honestly, I’ve always liked that about you. And nothing about this is going to be easy. But when Rebekah brought me his blood, all my magic could see was you and the potential you two had together. I could no more deny you the chance to say yes than breathe.”

She groaned under her breath. “This could be a disaster. You know I hate politics, and I’m an only child. I’m terrible at sharing. He’s alpha. Nothing he does is his alone.”

“I know. The circumstances are unusual, so they’ve been willing to negotiate generous terms if things don’t work.” Enzo grinned. “No one wants to trap either of you, not when all parties know that magic isn’t infallible.”

She eyed him. “I don’t like it when you think you’ve got it all figured out.”

A laugh. “Come with me to New York. Give it two years. A year for the truce, a year to fortify whatever weaknesses his enemies attempt to manipulate. At the end, if you want out, no one will stop you. I’ll dissolve the marriage myself. No loopholes.”

Enzo never dissolved marriages. That, more than anything, told her how serious he was about giving her an out. How badly they needed to truce.

“I guess you really do have this all figured out.”

“I wish I did, but we both know that’s impossible with something like this. I can only read the magic, and tell you what I see. But I’ll do everything I can to help you.” He smiled ruefully. “We’ve gotten good at hiding bodies, what’s a few more?”

Caroline wasn’t sure she should have found that comforting, but she did. “And just who am I agreeing to consider marrying?”

Enzo suddenly coughed and stood, a familiar hint of devilment twisting his lips. “Klaus Mikaelson.”

She spluttered. “Klaus Mikaelson? You want me to marry Klaus? He killed Mason?”

His smile widened. “Yes.”

Caroline gawked at him. Before she’d gone to Europe, Klaus Mikaelson had been the third most powerful Alpha. Young, handsome, devastatingly charming, he made people forget just how terrifying he could be with a pair of dimples that raised the blood pressure of every woman past puberty.

He was also Rebekah Mikaelson’s half brother.

Enzo had been entertaining her for years about the Mikaelson sibling dynamic. Klaus had not been spared in those stories, and while she’d never met him, she knew two very important things: he was built on lines that had always, always snagged her attention, and the sharp temper of his wolf, the brutality of his temper, hid a clever, agile mind that made him dangerous to underestimate.

“Enzo!” She protested. “Klaus?”

Sliding his hands in his pockets, he spun towards her door. “Yup.”

“Just where do you think you are going?”

Enzo tossed her a grin over his shoulder. “To get your cheesecake. You didn’t think I lied about that, did you? And you might as well fetch me that beer. We both know I’m not going anywhere until tomorrow, at the earliest.”

Caroline stared at his back as the door clanged behind him, heart hammering in her throat for a hundred reasons she couldn’t explain.

#my fic #klaroline #klaroline fanfic #klaroline drabbles #yeah #this sort of an interesting kind of crack

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wolfhowlingdragonflyingsirensong · 4 years

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spoilers

Since I recently played Life is Strange, which whoah, is totally an experience that I recommend to everyone, I’ve come to appreciate how well the game handles choices. It’s interesting how choices can seem meaningless good acts, like helping Alyssa avoid being hit, translates to her trusting Max enough for Max to save her. But, the game also points out how we can’t control consequences, since good deeds are done with nothing but good intentions can have fatal consequences, such as warning Victoria (and her believing you) leads to her murder, or the biggest good deed of them all, saving Chloe, leads to a storm that (can) kill lots of people. And ultimately, what’s cool is that every choice is canon, since Max it’s not a blank slate, meaning every choice the player makes is something Max considered. What do I mean with Max not being a blank slate? I mean regardless of your choices, Max likes waffles AND bacon and eggs. This is a minor example, but it serves for many things. Max can comfort Victoria or not, and later when they talk at the party regardless of your choice, Max at first is pretty angry, so she’s completely capable of standing up for herself and others. Max loves Chloe regardless of the player's feelings towards her. Max can be pretty uncaring or a literal angel, by Kate. And all of this is canon because even nice people contemplate not being nice all the time, even if it’s only a thought. This brings me to the ships topics. First of all, I’m glad that this game has non-ambiguous, non-sexualized, soft wlw romance (actually two counting BTS!) without the canon protagonist being turned evil or something, and I think that’s incredibly important. If the game had only Chloe as a love interest, I would totally get it and have no problem, because the game is pretty much focused on their bond. Not that it matters to those who do, I personally don't ship it because I self-project (and I totally recognize it) on friendships I had in my youth that were a bit like Chloe and Max's friendship in the first episodes, and they were toxic. Don't get me wrong, I loved my friends and they were (are) good people. I like Chloe a lot, and there's no denying that there are strong feelings on Max's part for Chloe that are romantic, and it's up to the player to determine if Max is going to pursue Chloe. Denying it means that is both not reading Max's diary and erasing her sexuality. I write this because I don't want to seem like I don't ship them because I like Grahamfield, it's not that, I could very well be into both, and I think Chloe develops so much at the end of episode 5 that, while before I thought she was only in love with Rachel, at that point is totally understandable for me. If you ship Pricefield then that's awesome! You have all the canon content to back you up and a beautiful story of love with the childhood friends-to-lovers trope, can't get much better. Plus, the whole game is about their bond. It's incredibly well developed at the end mostly when you see Chloe growing out of her initial angry phase, and maturing in a beautiful way. So, shipping Grahamfield in this fandom sometimes feels like hey, you are a giant dick. I don't like hate on any ship or character (especially dunking on Chloe, because she's a representation of how trauma is not nice while actually being cool and kind, as well as being one of the few wlw canon protagonists), because both choices are completely canon, it's entirely up to the player. Again, if Chloe was the only canon love interest then that would be totally cool. Buuuut Max can choose to go on a date with Warren, write on his slate that he is cute, raise his grade (which can be done as a friendship thing only), help him in his experiment, kiss him, and if she does, she writes in his diary "I wanted one kiss from a boy I cared about", that to me, reads as having a canon interest in him too. And since Max is bisexual from what I understand, erasing that part doesn't sit well with me. Both Chloe and Warren have flaws, which hey is what happens with characters. Can you imagine having perfect characters? That would be so boring. He is a realistic 16-year-old boy to Max's 18 and Chloe's 19 years. He is extremely awkward, dorky, a little cringy, a boy with a harmless boy with a crush and that's normal at that age. He's helpful almost to a fault, and while some argue that's because he feels entitled, let me tell you, no niceGuy I've ever met has been so helpful if you don't give in, they don't back out after someone lets them down nicely, and he states his interest in Max clearly, and niceGuys don't tend to do that because they like to pine away and be angry that a girl didn't read his mind and magically fell in love with him. He believes Max from the get-go and helps her all the time, regardless of his feelings, which is like, basic decency, so if you want to call him a piece of shit I think that's going a little too far. If you want to take the words of others, Kate says he's a smart and silly cutie-pie with a good heart, suggests they take him with them to their tea-shop tour of Portland after everything and supports their date (besides them being friends, he brings her homework and is shown worried about her). I don't remember that part well, but I think Alyssa and Dana also support Grahamfield (and Brooke is very jealous!) so I think if he was an asshole they wouldn't be so supportive and Brooke wouldn't be into him, or Stella in another reality. My only point is that hey if you don't like him that's fine, but to call him a pervert or entitled or assholery is kinda uncalled for, to be honest, and using the nightmare sequence, in which EVERYONE is out of character (except Jeffershit) and shown being assholes, as a canon that he is bad seems to me like going out of your way. It's a nightmare for a reason, do you really think Kate would have said those things to Max if you save her? She's incredibly grateful. Or do you think Chloe would have done those things??? She would NEVER. Then why is Warren being treated as someone who would do those things for a nightmare? I don't get it. There are two myths regarding him: that he spies on Max and that he photoshopped a photo with them. First one, you can verify with mods that he can't see SHIT, he is merely waiting for her outside. Second, the photo is developed, not photoshopped, Max doesn't say hey we never took that photo, she merely is surprised he kept it. Now, he's a bit pushy when it comes to the drive-in (he acknowledges he's a pain in the booty), says like a stupid joke (a 16-year-old making stupid jokes, what a crime), and has that photo, which for some is crossing boundaries, and hey, that's fine. I, personally, just think a 16-year-old having a photo with his friend and crush is not creepy or bad. So, now that I'm over the ship discourse, which I hate but had to write to explain, I'm so glad this game brought so many interesting characters. My only complaint is that it felt a little too short when it came to other characters, I guess it's because the literal theme of the game is about abandoning youth and growing up as well, so that's because it's very focused on Chloe and Max's relationship, besides the romance. I adore Kate! I’m so happy we were able to save her, it was seriously one of the best moments I’ve ever seen in a game, I would have liked to see her future children’s book with Max’s photos, their tea sessions, and her coming back to school. I would love to have seen more of Stella, (a POC I think) that according to her words, faced an abusive home and poverty to end up studying in a prestigious school like Blackwell, busting her ass to work and yet being super cool and kind! I would have loved to see more of Daniel, how he faced bullying, how his home life is, his budding romance with Brooke, his future drawings. I would have loved to see more of Dana! How she dealt with abortion, a heavy topic, and yet she's super happy, nice, and in a loving relationship apparently. I would have liked to see more of Juliet's reporting skills, I feel like she could have been more important to the plot, or at least more exposés on bullying and the Prescotts. I would have loved to see more of Alyssa, what she likes, her relationships, etc. I would have loved to see more of Taylor! How her mom was doing, what steps was she going to take in not falling with the Vortex Club bullshit, her love for fashion, like Courtney. We didn't get to know Courtney at all I feel and I would have liked to! I would have liked to see more of Victoria, her insecurities, her relationship with her parents, her inner thoughts (she's totally bi too I bet), even her friendship with Nathan seemed deeper. I would have liked to see more of cool hipster Evan, or good skater boy Luke. In short, I would have LOVED to have them all hanging more with Max. The ending, oh man, what an ending. It's incredibly hard, and I hate that saving Arcadia Bay seems to go into "bury your gays" trope, because if there was a way to save them both I would. The writing is very powerful, ending the way it began. This leads me to my initial topic, choices. I love that the game gives us choices, and considering there are other alternative realities, maybe both choices are canon in different universes. If I was in Chloe's shoes I couldn't choose to sacrifice my mom, and Joyce dies if Chloe is saved, as well as many other innocents, so I can't choose that ending, I just can't (and I understand that's totally personal for everyone). A really tough choice, at least for me, and hey, if it wasn't specified that practically everyone died, I would have saved Chloe no questions asked. I do love, however, how Chloe matures so much in the course of 5 days and her bond with Max. She sacrifices for Arcadia Bay, and a lot of it is because of Max, because she doesn't want her to make that choice. So now if you excuse me, I'm still playing the funeral scene in my mind and the bathroom scene (totally broken) and had to write this as cathartic, so feel free to disagree with me or whatever you prefer, each one of us experiences a different game because of our different experiences in life. Next step: BTS and LIS2 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x9uy4V8SvPk

#Life is Strange #Max Caulfield #Chloe Price #Warren Graham #Kate Marsh #Stella Hill #Daniel DaCosta #Dana Ward #Juliet Watson #Evan Harris #Luke Parker #Taylor Christensen #Victoria Chase

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ninnodesu · 4 years

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The New Matriarch, ch 6

AN: Okay, this chapter is A LOT better than chapter 5 in my opinion, hahah. I'm just churning out chapters right now during christmas break, it's great!

Again; Thank you sooo much for reading! It's so much fun seeing the statistics and see that people like my little story. <3 Oh! Regarding the name "Kit": This is mostly just a placeholder name, do not fear! It is still You/Reader friendly ;)

TW: None, really. Maybe some light mentions of bullying!

Thomas B. Hewitt.

Thomas was grumpier than usual today at work. When he’d arrived, his work station had been vandalized. There were snickers and giggles behind his back as he had to clean up his little corner of the slaughterhouse almost all morning. It was covered in trash. People had literally dumped at least one trash can all over his station, might’ve been two, even. Rotten food all over his bench, some stuck to his cleaver. Everyone thought it was hilarious to mess with the residence retard. It was one of those days. One of those days where he was - apparently - only at work as some kind of comical relief to lighten the mood of the otherwise gloomy workers, at least that’s what they had decided.

At one point the ones responsible for the mess he had to clean had even pushed one of the shy girls right into Thomas’ chest, making cat calls and whistling towards them as a way to mock both at the same time.

The girl because she was shy and cried easily, and Thomas because… well… he looked like he did.

He wasn’t able to properly start butchering until maybe an hour before lunch, his boss yelling at him a handful of times before that.

What did I ever do to any of you assholes… Not only did he have to clean up the entire morning, there wasn’t enough food at home so he couldn’t bring lunch… and his cleaver was getting dull. A mental note to bring it home the next day to sharpen it.

This. Was not. His. Day.

I just want to go ho- , his inner sentence was interrupted by a hard dunk on his back, knocking a bit of air out of him.

“Hewiiiitt!”, one of the several bullies he’s had comes up with two of his friends holding his arms out wide, they’re smirking.

So you did this.

“Did ya’ like our present, Hewitt?”, he nods towards the trash can and starts laughing, “We got it specially for you.”, he chuckles before continuing, “Oh, and, I hope you don’t mind I take Laurie for myself, since you uh… wouldn’t know what to do with’er even.” A barking laughter erupts from the three of them at the end of his jab against Thomas, making everything personal. The end of his sentence makes Thomas turn towards them and glare down through his dark curls. The men take a step back, they can probably literally feel how Thomas’ anger starts boiling as he straightens up and flexes his biceps towards them. A clear sign they’re starting to royally piss him off.

He would never use his strength to physically hurt people, but he does know how to make them leave him alone, at least for a short period of time, they know he could crush their skulls if he wanted to. And they never go into fist fights with the giant. All they do is emotionally drain him, they make him know he’s different, not like everyone else, and that he never will be. He’s the village dumb animal and that’s his only purpose in life.

They laugh nervously as he stares them down. “Haha, you really are an animal, Hewitt.”, they just laugh as they turn and leave him alone in the now empty slaughterhouse. He plants his hands flat on his table and glances over at all the parts he has left to cut up before he can leave without getting reprimanded by his boss the following day and sighs heavily.

I fucking hate all of you.

It’s dark out when he’s finally done with his work, thankfully, his dull cleaver made it so he could snag more pieces of rejected meat with him home. At least something good came out of this shitty day at work. More food for his - now - bigger family and he tried looking at that like a consolation prize as he lumbered home in the dark, letting his mind wander.

I want a name for her.

Even if he didn’t want to speak to her, he still wanted to give her a name until she could remember her own, she couldn’t walk around with no name in the house.

Sure, I’m not going to openly talk to her…

He cleared his throat at that as a reminder for himself that he still had vocal cords. He made a conscious choice not to speak several years ago. But on lonely nights, or when he was alone - and knew no one could hear him - in general, he hummed, or spoke to himself, thinking aloud or mumbled reminders for only him to hear, to make sure his vocal cords were still there. The two words he had spoken in the barn a few days back the most he had actually spoken in… months, maybe years. His family had gotten used to his body language and mannerisms when they talked to him.

I can alwa-, again, interrupted. But this time by a family of foxes running across the dirt road. He stopped and just stared at the bigger one as it stopped in the high grass in the ditch on the other side, looking over at a small collection of babies that sprinted across it after looking over at the giant in the distance.

He smiled as he figured out what to call her.

Kit.

He hummed slightly, picturing her in his mind. Her face, the kind eyes that always crinkled when she smiled at him or his family, trying out the new name to see if it would fit her face.

Yeah. Yeah, I like Kit.

He readjusted the bag he had thrown over his shoulder and kept trudging home through the night, a tired sigh leaving him as he started to see the outline of the big house in the distance.

The house was silent, obvious evidence that everyone else was asleep, so he made sure to walk as quietly as he could on his way to the stairs leading to the basement, snagging a few pieces of the leftovers and shoving them into his mouth on the way down to the damp and musty basement where the coolers were loudly brumming and vibrating. Alone, he seized the moment to talk to himself.

“Let’s see… ”. His voice was raspy, but deep, and vibrated throughout his body. He rummaged and rearranged in the freezer box to take out the packages whose date seemed to run out to put it on top of the ones he had brought today. “Pen… penpenpen… ”, almost having to turn the entire basement over to find the one he usually uses - and mentally punishing himself for never putting it in one specific place - he scribbles down today’s date before putting them in the bottom of the box. As he stands and stretches he’s greeted with a series of tired pops in his spine. “Getting old, Thomas. ”, he mumbles before lumbering over to his basement corner. Not having the energy to climb the stairs.

He just wanted to sleep. Unbuckling his mask he rubs his hands all over his dried cheeks to ease the blasted itching all over him before kicking off his boots and laying down on the creaky bed. A yawn that transcends into a small, deep moan escapes him as he tucks one arm under his pillow and the other reaches under his shirt to scratch a spot on his stomach. “Kit. ”, he says out loud to try it on his tongue. “Mmmh. Kit is good. ”, is the last sound that leaves the basement before his snoring takes over.

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

You

You woke up in your bed, not really remembering when you went to sleep, but you decided to cuddle up a bit under your blanket before the morning heat reached your body and you had to force yourself up out of bed.

As usual, it was quiet in the house. “It’s really starting to get lonely here…”, you muttered to yourself as you descended the stairs. You were greeted by a few piglets running around in the kitchen as you entered.

A yellow paper struck you in the otherwise white and gray kitchen.

A note.

“Mornin’, dear. Breakfast is on the table.

Love

- Luda Mae.”

You looked up from the note and towards the table, and sure enough. There it was. A plate with a few sausages, a fried egg and a small piece of bread. You mentally thanked Luda Mae as you sat down, tucking a leg under yourself and started munching on your - now cold - breakfast while watching a few piglets running around. Occasionally you threw a piece of sausage at them which they happily ate. “I wonder why you live in here, piggies.”, you said to them as you downed the last of the meal. You hummed a bit at a thought before heading over to clean your plate and fork.

After drying your hands and putting the dishes away to dry on their own you turned on your heels and leaned back at the sink just looking around. “Now what…”, you giggled as you poked a pig with your feet and watched it twitch. “What should we do now, little guy?”

You sauntered away from the kitchen, into the dining room and just looked around. Taking in the homely - but not the cleanest - house you were in. You’ve never seen this before, never seen these people. But then again, maybe you weren’t even from around here… Everything before meeting Thomas in the barn was a blur, a darkness you really couldn’t remember. And right now, at this moment? You were happy you couldn’t remember anything. All you knew at this point was that you were relaxed.

You knew you’d been on the run, you remember the Box, but no details. Not your name, not where you came from, you knew an estimated age of yourself, but still no details.

You came from the darkness, yes, and Thomas was your light. Your beacon of hope.

Your venture took you into a room with a piano and a couch. You approached the piano and started tinkling on the keys, it was really out of tune and you couldn’t help but to laugh at how bad it sounded. But you shrugged and sat down in front of it and started poking the keys. Thinking you knew any kind of melody you could play, but it was fun nonetheless. After your solo concert you found yourself sitting in the grass outside, legs sprawled in front of you under a tree, the shirt you’d borrowed tickling slightly as a breeze caressed your skin and you closed your eyes. “This is nice.”, sure it was quiet, and sure you were lonely… and bored . But it was a relaxing kind of silence where you could lay in the grass if you wanted, take a nap on the porch if you felt like it. No stress and no need to live up to any expectations.

It isn’t until late afternoon that you finally notice the family starting to drop in. You’re on the couch in front of the TV lazily watching, not even paying attention to what is on when someone suddenly kicks the sofa. “Fuck you think you doin’?”, you jerk and look up at the grumpy man, Charlie, standing there with his hands on his hips shooting daggers at you. “Been home all day and not done anything ‘round the house.”, you don’t even get the chance to reply to him so you resort to shrinking in on yourself. “I uh…”, he interrupts you before you get any chance to defend yourself. “Listen here, girlie.”, he gets down low and right up in your face and grab it harshly to make sure you’re looking at him, “Mama might be treatin’ you good n'all, hell, she won’t stop talking ‘bout ya’”, he sneers and looks annoyed, “But you’re in my house, so you listen’ to my rules.”

His grip starts to loosen on you.

“So, ya’ see, honey. If you want to stay here, livin’ a good ass life, ya’ better do ya part, understand?” All you can do is nod weakly, after you do, he pats your cheek a little harder than he had to and gave you a tobacco smelling kiss on your forehead before he left. You mind starts hurting slightly, the treatment making something you can’t fully decipher before your eyes

You didn’t dare move off the couch after your meeting with Charlie. You kept your place on the couch until dinner was served. The other older man, Monty, had joined you, but you didn’t care. He didn’t care and acted like you weren’t even there. Dinner was just as uneventful, you all ate, but without Thomas. A knot started growing in your stomach when he wasn’t present, Charlie scared you already. And you had only been there for about three to four days. Barely talking to him, the few times you did meet him he shot you nasty glances. Eyes that traveled uncomfortably over your body.

After dinner was over and done with, Luda Mae invited you to have evening tea with her on the porch, and you, happy to accept, almost sprinted out to get away from mainly Charlie. He didn’t seem to dare say or do anything against you when Luda Mae was in ear shot.

Your house my ass... , you thought when you’d notice that small detail.

So, here you were having a cozy evening with at least one you enjoyed spending time with.

“You seem tense, darlin’”, she spoke up from her crocheting and glanced at you. “Is everything alright?” You looked over at her and gave a crooked smile. “I’m… I’m alright. It’s just…”, you shook your head and proceeded to rest your chin on your hand. “Can I ask you something, miss Mae?”, you tilted your head. “Mmhm.”, she hummed as she went back to her crocheting, the tone of her voice seemingly knowing what you were about to ask about.

Thomas.

The two of you ended up talking about Thomas for several hours. Luda Mae told you she found him in a dumpster outside the very slaughterhouse he works in, how he from an early age suffered from a skin disease they couldn’t afford to treat due to her and her family already living on the verge of poverty. She told you he was heavily bullied in school, and when he was around twelve left it altogether. Charlie helped him get a job at the slaughterhouse and that’s where he’s been since. He’s a gentle giant to the ones he considers family, he’s strong but never abuses his power.

“So, uhm… is there any specific reason he doesn’t speak?” She folded her hands in her lap and sighed heavily at that question, she had been teary eyed all through Thomas’ story, but now it seemed they started falling. “Due to him takin’ a knife to his face it hurt him too much to speak, and even eat. He stopped eating for a long time. He utters a word sometimes, but… that’s it.”, her voice trembled and she took a deep breath to continue, “My poor boy stopped talking completely when he was around… fifteen. And I haven’t talked to him since then.” You did the numbers in silence before gasping slightly “He hasn’t talked for nineteen years?”, she shook her head slightly. “I do miss talkin’ to him. He always did have the best laugh I’ve ever heard.”, she smiled to you. “Ya’ know the deep, rumbling kind, I remember him always laughing until he folded over.” You giggled slightly at that, picturing Thomas folded over in a deep laugh with his arms clutching his stomach.

It was a lovely image.

#The New Matriarch #TNM #thomas hewitt #thomas leatherface hewitt #thomas hewitt fanfictiom #tcm: the beginning #tcm #tcm fanfiction

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slash-em-up · 4 years

Text

I Was (Not) Born To Be A Cowboy Pt. 3

Ok, so since this seems to be turning into an actual story, I’ve pulled it out of the one-shot series ‘Meeting of the Minds’ and renamed it as its own piece. Apologies if this is confusing to anyone!

BTW, NSFW below!!

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

You would never admit this to a Jesse but you were actually having a pretty good time on the ranch.

If you discounted the freezing weather and the hands-on farm work, it was almost like a camping trip.

And you were getting pretty good at most of the daily tasks, if you did say so yourself.

Not by any merit of your own – Asa had kept his promise and taught you enough to keep you mounted on your horse; and Brody, along with the other ranch-hands, were nice enough to not make fun when you dropped the lead on one of the cows and had to chase her around the paddock – but you could definitely tell there was no love lost between Jesse and the cowboys.

It started at breakfast.

Once you’d arrived at the mess, you’d been introduced to the five other hands that worked the ranch. Mr. Ephriam was nowhere to be found, which you thought was a little odd; but hey.

The men all seemed like friendly enough guys until Jesse came huffing through the door.

“Hey there Stretch, where’s your horse at?” one of the men queried.

Reaching angrily into his pocket, Jesse pulled out his phone and typed out his answer, letting the electronic reader give out a monotone ‘Dr. Emory stole it’

The man chuckled at that, giving Asa an appraising look.

“How are ya, Doc. I’m Henry, I run this place when Mr. Ephriam ain’t here. You know your way around horses?”

Asa turned from his place in the food line and faced the man, raising an eyebrow behind his glasses at being dubbed ‘Doc’.

“Enough to get by.”

Henry gave an approving nod.

“It’ll be nice to have one of ya around that can keep his seat. Ever worked with cattle before?”

Asa shook his head.

“Well, you’ll catch on quick. Or ya won’t. Be interesting to watch…”

Henry turned to look at you momentarily before grunting and returning to his eggs.

You didn’t know if that was a good sign or not.

You joined Jesse, who’d seated himself in the corner as far away from the others as possible, and was currently moving what looked like beans around his tray with a spoon.

“Proper cowboy breakfast, huh?”

‘I miss coffee…’

“You literally have a full mug of it sitting in front of you.”

Jesse looked affronted.

‘THIS is not coffee, this is what comes out when you clean a gutter.’

You rolled your eyes.

“Oh please, like you’ve ever cleaned a gutter in your life…”

Jesse’s retort was cut off as Asa sat beside you, taking a long sip from his own mug.

“At least the coffee is decent.”

You choked on your potatoes and Jesse glared.

Asa looked confused (for Asa) and went straight on to befuddled as Jesse lobbed a biscuit at his head.

‘Keep it in your pants ‘Doc’.’

Asa sneered.

“Easy enough, ‘Stretch’.”

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

“I can’t do this, I’m going back to Illinois.”

You could almost read the ‘take me with you’ in Jesse’s eye as he leaned against the wooden fence, watching you try your hardest to lasso a very slippery calf.

It has all started out so well too. You were sure nothing as cute as the baby cow before you could give you too much trouble; but boy oh boy had you been wrong.

You turned to watch Asa and Spann ride by – herding the grown heifers as if they’d been doing it for years – while Jesse and you were stuck chasing these adorable little monsters.

“Show-offs…” you muttered.

Jesse nodded in agreement, sending a glare at the two riders.

Twin looks of disapproval met his, and you couldn’t help but chuckle. Asa and Spann were usually on the same wave-length when it came to handling Jesse’s childish behavior and you found it hilarious.

The length of rope making up your lasso flew once more through the air, coming pitifully short of the tiny brown calf.

“Dammit!”

Before you could reel the loop back in a dark-sweatered form passed you with a ZOOM. A tiny yelp left your mouth as you watched Jesse charge towards the calf - who immediately took off, prey instincts telling it to GET AWAY as fast as it could.

You couldn’t help but flinch a little as you watched Jesse run - while he was extremely fast and almost graceful when he was chasing a piggy, he had a tendency to be… less so when he wasn’t in a hunting mind-set.

And the mud in the pen looked pretty damn slippery…

Jesse overtook the tiny cow quickly and hoisted it up and over his shoulder like he would any other body, looking incredibly proud of himself as he walked back to you, keeping the tiny cow held tight as it wriggled.

“Well that’s one way to do it.”

A jerk of Jesse’s head indicated that you should open the pen you’d been trying to lead the calf into and soon the baby was locked in safe and sound with its friends.

Smirking, the two of you passed by Asa and Spann - heading back to the cabin now that your task for the afternoon was finally finished.

You’d nearly cleared the fenceline when the mud got the better of Jesse’s footing and he plummeted into the freezing muck with a loud squelching noise.

Unfortunately, on his way down he’d grabbed your shoulder in an attempt to steady himself and his much larger form was more than happy to take you right down with him.

“FUCK!”

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

You’d discovered that the saving-grace of the overall chilly ranch was that it had hot water, and lots of it. It had become your habit over the last couple of days to end your evening with a boiling shower before curling up in front of the fire between Asa and Jesse.

Having been thoroughly dipped and dunked in some icy dirt made you even more grateful for this as Jesse and you trudged together towards the bath-house.

It reminded you of your gym’s locker-rooms, honestly.

It split into two sections, one for men, the other for women and as you entered there were several rows of lockers and benches for people to stow their goods in before getting undressed and occupying a shower stall.

You grasped Jesse by the hand before he could turn into the men’s side.

“Nuh-uh, you got me dirty, you’re cleaning me up.”

Any fatigue he’d been showing left Jesse immediately, perking him right back up as he offered you a grin.

His brown eye twinkled seeming to make no promise that you wouldn’t leave the shower dirtier than when you’d arrived.

You let out a squeak of surprise as Jesse lifted you effortlessly into his arms, pausing for a moment so you could wrap your legs around his hips before pressing a deep kiss to your lips.

The three of you hadn’t had the energy or privacy to be intimate like you usually would, and you were starving for this.

Your hands gripped Jesse’s shoulders as he deepened the kiss, walking you both through the lockers and into a stall.

Gasping, you pulled away to catch your breath and turn one of the dials, starting the shower.

Jesse’s hands were everywhere, feeling you up and pulling at your clothes as you did the same to him.

He preened as you rid him of his sweater and ran your hands admiringly across his tattooed skin.

Once you were both naked, you found yourself pressed tightly against the wall as Jesse sucked and kissed your neck.

“Oh god, Jesse, yes…”

His large hands nearly encircled your ribcage as he lifted you once more, letting you rest between his body and the wall - the cool tile creating an intense contrast with his water-warmed skin.

You could feel his cock pressing insistently against your entrance and you grasped Jesse’s shoulders tightly in an effort to fill yourself with his erection.

He glanced up at your face - eye’s glinting in a devilish way as he moved his hips just out of your reach, then back - small thrusting motions against your skin that were driving you wild with need.

“Fuck, please, get inside me… stop teasing you bastard!”

Jesse stepped away from the wall, causing you to cling even tighter to his wet skin as he brought you both back under the heated spray.

He grinned with satisfaction as he lowered you inch by inch onto his cock, lifting you and pulling you down slowly until you were fully seated.

Your head lolled back in ecstacy at the feeling of being so full. Jesse was large enough that just by filling you he hit nearly every sensitive nerve inside your body, and it was all you could do to keep from cumming right then and there.

Jesse shivered at the feeling of your inner muscles clamping down on him as you tried desperately to stave off your orgasm.

He’d never let you or Asa hear the end of it if you came from just his cock entering you.

When he finally began to move, his pace was still torturously slow - you could feel the desire to cry out with every thrust increase as he drew out your pleasure, pausing his movements over any place he found that made you writhe in sensitivity.

He was a god damn evil man and you were ready to tell that him just that as soon as he moved his cockhead away from your g-spot.

You were panting and whimpering as he finally decided to take pity on you and began thrusting at a rapid pace, bouncing you on his cock like you weighed less than a feather.

Supporting your back with one arm, he brought his free hand down to rub roughly at your clit, causing you to scream to the ceiling and jerk your hips up into his grip.

You came like an atom bomb and tightened like a vice around Jesse.

He nearly lost his grip and leaned back into the rough tile wall to support your bodies as he threw his head back and came inside of you.

Releasing you slowly, he gently lowered you to the floor, letting you lean against him in the shower spray until you’d caught your breath.

“I missed that.” You said, pressing a soft kiss to his chest.

Jesse grinned down at you before signing ‘It hasn’t even been two weeks yet. Miss my cock that much?’

You were feeling far too languid from an excellent orgasm to tell him off, so you simply reached around and pinched his ass instead.

“Among other things, asshole.”

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

Warm and clean, you returned to the cabin wrapped tightly under Jesses arm.

To both of your surprise, there was a suspicious lack of Asa in the cabin and a note pinned to the door.

It was in Spanns writing

‘Mr. Cromeans,

Please bring Y/N and join Asa and I in the mess-hall. I think you’ll enjoy this.

-Spann’

“What the hell? What does that mean?”

Jesse shrugged, looking perplexed by his second’s cryptic note.

“Up for another ride?”

You could tell Jesse wanted to make a joke; but one glance over at Sugar soured his mood immediately.

‘Not particularly...’

You hummed in amusement, tucking yourself back under his arm.

“Yeah, wouldn’t want to end up in the dirt again.”

Jesse scowled; but pulled you closer anyway. His distaste for the cold overcoming his annoyance at your cheeky comments.

Giggling, you both headed towards the mess-hall.

To Be Continued...

#jesse cromeans x reader x asa emory #asa emory #jesse cromeans #laid to rest #chromeskull: laid to rest 2 #spann #the collector #the collection 2012 #the collector slasher #chromeskull #jessica writes #Horror Movies #slasher fiction

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perfeggso · 4 years

Text

till the sun’s seeing through my eyes (yumark)

hitting for six

Yuta and Mark are next-door neighbors who grew up together, joined at the hip until Yuta went off to college. Due to their four-year age gap, Mark’s freshman year at the same school marks the halfway point of an unprecedented amount of time apart. Yuta is sure he can handle it, until Mark’s arrival home for spring break makes him wonder if the fondness he has for his friend might be blooming quite literally into something stronger. It’s up to him to handle the consequences.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Masterlist

Characters: Yuta x Mark + NCT ensemble, other SM (and non-SM (?)) idols tbd, character families

Genres: heavy angst, fluff, Hanahaki!AU, small town!AU, slight Witchcraft/Magic!AU, College!AU

Warnings: blood and gore, mentions of death, disease, vomiting, college-typical alcohol use, swearing

Rating: T

Length: 8.3k

Yuta twirled the stick of rock candy he’d picked up at the market around between his lips, enjoying how it felt rough on his tongue and filled his mouth with the flavor of unadulterated sugar. He checked his phone – no new messages.

He tapped the toe of his sneakers against the linoleum floor of Kun’s coffeeshop and drummed his hands against the seafoam counter before pulling the candy from his lips with a pop and dunking it in his glass of mint tea. All around him, the clinking, hissing, and chatter of a well-liked café filled his ears, and the arousing scent of coffee steam kept him a fidgety kind of alert. On second thought, replace “alert” with “distracted.”

“Did you hear me, Yuta?” Sicheng was saying, sitting at the table nearest the espresso machine and picking at a mini egg custard tart. Yuta had not heard him, that much was evident.

Yuta sighed with some effort, then made a fake sorry face. “No – no, I apologize, babe, I didn’t.”

Sicheng rolled his eyes. “Whatever, it wasn’t important.” He took a large bite of his tart, pale, buttery crumbs affixing to his lips.

“Neko latte!” Kun interrupted, setting a white coffee cup in front of Yuta, the frothed milk on top of it shaped like a stubby-tailed cat that wiggled as the cup moved. Yuta had to restrain himself from jiggling its foam butt into oblivion. Kun returned a moment later with a plate. “Aaaand, let’s see, one slice of orange poppy seed bread.” He dropped his smiling customer service face momentarily as he leaned in towards Yuta. “I thought you said you could handle calling out the orders. That was my condition for letting you behind the counter, wasn’t it?”

Yuta shrugged, repeating the order at double Kun’s original volume and smirking when a customer instantly shot out of her seat to come collect it. Yuta downed his tea, burning his throat, and stuck the melting candy back into his mouth as she made her way over, pushing the now-empty cup forward as an encouragement to leave a tip in it, which the poor girl did. Kun snatched the sticky bill from the cup and shook it out, disapproval contorting his face as he voiced his disappointment with a simple “nope.”

“But Kun, I watched her earlier and she didn’t leave a tip when she ordered,” Yuta protested, making himself laugh until it was threatening to become a cough. Dammit. He pulled in a shaky breath. “I’m only trying to help.”

Kun pointed to the seating area. “Out.”

Yuta sulked his way to the chair opposite Sicheng, noting on his way that it was still pouring not insignificantly outside. Yuta had gotten off work early because of the rain; the indoor soccer field had been reserved weeks earlier for the high school team. Instead, he’d taken his kids to Yukhei’s gym for a short workout and then sent them home, choosing to wile away the rest of his time waiting for Mark with his buddies over a warm beverage.

“Has he responded yet?” Sicheng asked.

“No,” Yuta pouted. He’d sent Mark a text nearly twenty-five minutes ago saying he was ahead of schedule and to come meet him at Kun’s shop. “Ugh, wait, I’m sorry. What were you saying earlier? Nothing you say is unimportant, friend.”

Sicheng looked like he wanted to smack Yuta and hug him at the same time. Yuta was used to this.

“I was only teasing you for missing my speech last night because no one cut you off,” Sicheng clarified, wiping his hands against each other once he’d finished eating.

The memory of heaving in his bathroom in an attempt to extract whatever was obstructing his airways hit Yuta like an unforeseen ocean wave. He nodded slowly, schooling his face to pretend to be irritated rather than scared. He didn’t want to lie to his friend, but not even he knew what the real issue was, and it would undoubtedly get sorted, so why worry people?

Yuta made his face into the disappointment emoji. “Mm-hm,” he said. “Well since you can only process my suffering as it pertains to you, maybe you’ll cut me off next time you have something important to say.”

Sicheng raised his eyebrows. “Someone’s feeling bitchy today,” he observed. “This is because your boyfriend’s not texting back, isn’t it?”

Yuta scoffed. “Boyfriend,” he huffed in disbelief, but the word stirred a sickened feeling inside him. He chose to ignore that. “Yeah, it is,” he teased, “you jealous?”

Sicheng shook his head. “Not at all,” he said. “It means you’ll let me be for a couple weeks.”

Yuta laughed, his body once again nearly giving into coughing. Like, choking on one’s dinner and needing the Heimlich kind of coughing. Instead of letting that happen and calling attention to himself, he doused his throat in the contents of a glass of water.

His breathing had been a bit better since he’d spoken with his mother that morning, but the problem wasn’t gone, and the raw coughing fits that started the day before were only growing more frequent. A particularly violent one had gripped him during practice, scaring some of his kids enough that he’d run away to the bathroom to get it under control. Thankfully, Yukhei had been in another room.

Yuta came from a tradition of hedge witches, of which his mother was a shining example. She ran an apothecary in town with his father; handling the medicine and potions side of it while he handled the business angle. She was a skilled potion-maker and healer, and she had a keen sense of spiritual effects on the physical. She was often able to gain insights that seemed so spot-on that Yuta had no choice but to believe whatever she told him to do.

She’d encouraged her children to utilize tarot cards from an early age and endeavored ever since to teach them everything she knew. Now and then, having someone so spiritually inclined as a parent could be burdensome, but it was times like these – when Yuta felt something strange and unwelcome stirring in him – that he felt he was lucky.

When Yuta had gone to the main house that morning, he found his mother in the kitchen, making banana pancakes as his little sister looked over her advanced biology homework. The high school still had a week left before spring break.

“Hi Haruna,” Yuta greeted, shoving her face softly into her papers and receiving a well-earned glare.

“Good morning, dingus. You really shouldn’t be partying when you have work in the morning.”

Haruna was a senior, less than a year younger than Mark (a fact which regularly escaped Yuta’s mind) and possessed an attitude problem – though one quite different from Yuta’s. That morning, she wore a long, eggplant-purple frock dress with lots of heavy eyeliner and her hair in a helmet-like bob. She might have been sartorially challenged and a bit of a bitch in Yuta’s view, but she was also his adorable little sister, and a veritable genius, he had to admit.

Yuta went to the fridge and pulled out an apricot yogurt. “I assure you I can handle myself,” he said, grabbing one of a collection of mismatched spoons and plopping it into his breakfast. “The last thing I need is a seventeen-year-old lecturing me on alcohol.”

Haruna tried to flick some of the syrup on her fork into her brother’s hair but missed. “I can’t wait until Momoka comes home to visit,” she grumbled. “Maybe you’ll listen to her.”

Yuta’s mother gave her youngest and middle child a heavy look of disapproval as she flipped a pancake with a wet, resounding plop. The action itself communicated as much authority as any scolding words could have. Yuta just smiled sweetly, digging into his yogurt.

“Yuta, dear,” she began, “can I interest you in some pancakes?”

Yuta shook his head, feeling a little guilty, but he was rarely very hungry in the mornings. “No, this is enough for me,” he said. His mother smiled. It was the same smile Haruna would flash when she was about to tease him.

“Well, I’m sure you didn’t come all the way over here just to bother your studious sister and refuse my cooking, so there has to be something else, hm? I’m right, aren’t I?”

Yuta sighed. As usual, she was indeed correct. “As a matter of fact, there is something bothering me.”

His mother listened attentively as he recounted the last day’s events: the asthma scare, trying to use the potion she’d taught him with a prayer, his concern over the reading he’d had that morning. All the while, she finished shaping her stack of pancakes and leaned on her elbows, steam rising from the food and swirling in front of her paisley house dress, fluffy hair, purple kerchief, and concerned face.

“It sounds to me like you’re having anxiety about change,” she offered once he’d finished. “You always tend to have flare-ups during transition periods.”

“Yeah,” Haruna cut in, spearing a chunk of pancake and narrowly escaping dropping it on her school papers, “remember when you were a freshman and you had a panic attack before coming home for winter break? You said you could hardly breathe all night and that you didn’t think you wanted to come back.”

Haruna seemed a little too casual with that difficult memory for Yuta’s liking, although she was right that he hadn’t forgotten. He pinched his eyebrows together.

“Is this a transition period though?” he asked. Everything for him was more or less the same as it had been all year.

His mother nodded. “I’d say so. Some of your younger friends are coming home, and Taeil will be going back to the city soon. There are a lot of moving pieces in your life at the moment, dear. I don’t think it's at all strange that you’re feeling off and maybe hiding some things from yourself.”

“Alternately,” quipped Haruna as their mother went to fetch a cloudy, pastel purple concoction she had sitting in a beaker by the window, “you’re just a drama queen.”

Yuta started. “Wanna get your butt kicked by a college athlete?” he threatened. Haruna stuck her tongue out at him.

“You mean former intramural college athlete?”

“That’s enough!”

Yuta and Haruna both turned to face their mother. She looked like her hair would be suspended in exasperation if she were in a Ghibli Movie. Yuta knew that meant it was time to Shut Up. Oops.

She sighed, running her hands over the lip of the beaker in her hand and muttering to herself to calm down. Then, she slid it forward to her son.

“Bring this to work with you, Yuta,” she advised, voice still stern. “I made it fresh this morning for the shop, but I think you could use it. It has lavender, mint, chamomile, soy oil, salts, and I’ve charged it with moon water. It’s something I’ve been messing around with for dealing with anxiety and stress during liminal periods in life.” Yuta nodded, listening attentively and twirling the little vial in between his fingers. She went on. “Then later whenever you have time, I want you to sit alone with your confusion for a little while. I think that might give you more insight into what is driving this spiritually and subconsciously. Try not to smother it, whatever it is.”

Of course his mom’s advice was essentially “meditate.” Why had he even bothered to ask? He nodded one more time, subdued, and dropped the vial of pale liquid into his pocket. He would put it into a water bottle and bring it along.

Yuta finished his yogurt and chucked the container into the recycling. “Thank you, Mom,” he said, snagging a pancake on his way out of the kitchen just to win a little more of her favor. “And have a good day, Haruna.”

“You too, dingus.”

“Tell me if you’re feeling better tonight!” his mother called after him, finishing off with a mild threat: “And I’ll be able to tell if you didn’t follow my directions!”

Yuta sighed for what felt like the eightieth time all day, watching the café’s glass door from over Sicheng’s shoulder for any signs of Mark. He didn’t know how to summon people or things, but he half-imagined that he did, concentrating so hard on the door that it was making his eyes cross. And in a matter of seconds, it worked (or, at least, the universe gave the illusion of it working).

Mark rushed into the coffeeshop, looking harried and tugging a cumbersome guitar case along with him which he tried desperately to protect with a too-small umbrella. The image put Yuta at attention, smiling.

“I’m so sorry!” Mark spluttered as he rushed through the door. “I was practicing, and I didn’t check my phone!”

“Whoa there,” Kun warned from behind the counter. “This does not need to be advertised to my entire clientele.”

Mark shook out his umbrella and shoved it into the holder in the entryway, checking with Yuta that they planned on staying for at least a little while and apologizing sheepishly to Kun.

He sat down at the table with Yuta and Sicheng as Yuta grinned at him.

“Don’t be sorry, Markie-boy,” Yuta said, poking Mark in the side and making him almost giggle his way out of his chair. As the chair tipped and then slingshotted violently back to its starting position from Mark regaining his balance, it clattered so loudly that it attracted more concerned looks than Mark had when he’d busted through the door. Yuta hardly seemed to register this as he gushed about how devoted his friend was to his craft that he would haul his equipment through a rainstorm. Kun rolled his eyes and huffed in defeat at yet another disruption.

“Mark, the usual?” he asked, and Mark nodded after nervously confirming Yuta didn’t have other plans for them to go eat somewhere.

Only then did he allow himself to settle in, peeling off his damp jacket and balancing his guitar case against the side of his chair.

“Did you carry that all the way here?” Sicheng asked, and Yuta shot him an obvious look.

“Of course he did,” he replied for his friend, and Sicheng glared at him. “The kid can’t drive, after all. Just like you.”

Mark nodded in confirmation as Kun set a mug of hot chocolate and a cream cheese bagel in front of him. “I love being referred to as ‘the kid’ as if I’m not present,” he snarked. “Also, thanks, Kun.”

“Sure thing.”

Yuta crunched absently at the end of his rock candy. “Aw, don’t go trying to make me feel bad when you forced me to wait for thirty-five minutes and didn’t even tell me you were on your way. It’s like you want to keep me in constant suspense with your little surprises.” Mark scowled, but his mouth was too stuffed with bagel to form a retort, so Yuta went on. “Anyway, you got a guitar in there?”

Mark swallowed. “What do you think?”

“I think we’re just impressed you lugged it all the way here,” Sicheng clarified, trying to clear the air of Yuta’s usual bitchiness. “Surely, you brought it for a reason.”

Mark clapped his hands against each other to rid them of crumbs, body going taut with excitement.

“Actually yes!” he mouthed around his food. “I did have a reason. I wanted to show off what I’ve been practicing!”

“Oooooh!” Yuta buzzed, applauding preemptively at hyper-speed. “You might want to check with the stickler in charge though,” he warned, stage whispering and indicating towards Kun. The subject of the jest frowned at his table of friends.

“I can hear you, Yuta,” he said, “and it’s fine. Just give me a minute to turn the speakers off.”

Soon enough, Mark had extracted his guitar from its case and had it over his knee, strumming experimentally to warm up and drawing the attention of most of the customers behind him.

“Don’t look now, Mark,” Sicheng began. “But it looks like you’ve roped yourself into a little concert.”

“A little what now?” he asked, immediately going against the advice he’d just received and turning around to meet the gazes of at least fifteen people he only marginally knew. “Oh, uh, okay. This is fine.”

Yuta smiled to himself as he watched his friend adjust his fingers over the metal strings and clear his throat, red face betraying that he might not, in fact, be fine.

Pretty soon though, he was finger-picking his way through the intro to Frank Ocean’s “Cayendo.” Once Mark started singing, Yuta found himself lulled into an admiring trance at the smooth sweetness of Mark’s voice. Mark was usually shy about singing solo, but he’d been working on it and Yuta loved that he had gained some confidence. The fact that the song was in a language Yuta couldn’t understand served even further to pull him under its calm spell.

He pretended to swoon at the little performance, rolling his eyes around and fanning himself theatrically. “Ooh, Markie, take me now,” he joked, just loud enough for his table to hear and no one else. Mark’s ears went red and he struggled to sing through a giggle.

Right in the middle of the song though, Mark sang a stanza that Yuta did understand. It ended with a melancholy plea of love:

When I still really, really love you, like I do

If you won't, then I will

If you can't, then I will

Is it love to keep it from you?

It was such a sad sentiment. Yuta thought that if he were a more sentimental person, and under different circumstances, he would have started to cry. Though, maybe he wasn’t as unsentimental as he thought he was…

Mark transitioned back to singing in Spanish and Yuta took the moment to lose himself less in his friend’s voice and more in the space around them: the chatter of impressed coffee-sippers, the whirring of the espresso machine, the soft and appreciative expressions on his friends’ faces. It was almost as sweet as the leftover sugar which coated the inside of his mouth – almost sweet enough for him to forget that some kind of repression within him was causing him vascular stress. Almost; almost.

Mark plucked the last note of the song and the café broke into a pitter-patter of applause which echoed the pounding of rain outside, and in that moment, as if to remind him of the tenuousness of his almosts, Yuta found himself hurled into the most intense pain he’d felt in the last twenty-four hours.

He bent himself over and started retching into a napkin. It was the same sensation he’d gotten the night before at the party, when he’d locked himself in the bathroom and coughed himself raw into the white sink, trying to force something out that just wouldn’t budge. He felt like he had a copper wire weaving through his muscles, and someone was sending shocks of electricity through it.

Sicheng and Mark stared at him in concern and Sicheng pushed a glass of water his way. He choked out his thanks before downing it in one go, once again taking note of the clump of – something – which drifted back down along with the liquid. By the time he had himself back under control, both his friends were posing some variation on the same ‘you okay?’ question.

“Yeah, yeah,” he lied. “Just aspirated some very sharp candy.”

Sicheng winced. “Ouch,” he said. “At least you had the courtesy to wait until Mark was finished.”

Yuta stuck his tongue out, but the way his friend went so casually back to teasing him actually made him feel a little better.

“I know the Heimlich maneuver!” Mark said, a stupidly proud grin crossing his face as he set his guitar back into its case and puffed his chest out involuntarily. “So I could have saved you if it came to that.”

Yuta smiled weakly. “That’s very reassuring, Mark.”

“NBD.” Yuta groaned, the sharp pain from only moments ago leaving him just as quickly as it had come. He cringed. Had Mark really just said “NBD?” Whatever. Mark continued.

“Seriously though, what did you guys think?”

“It was really good,” Sicheng said, “and I would say, a glowing testament to your four years of high school Spanish.”

Mark snickered. “What about you, Yutaaa?”

“Well if you couldn’t tell by the way I reacted at the beginning, I loved it! Really, like your voice just keeps getting better and better.”

Mark placed a hand over his heart, meaning to indicate that Yuta’s compliment had touched him.

“Aren’t you not supposed to be using instruments though?” Sicheng chimed. “I mean, considering you’re an a cappella person?”

Mark rolled his eyes. “Very funny,” he said. “But thanks, guys. I think I might play it live sometime on the Serotonin Hour.” That was the name of the radio show Johnny had left to him upon graduation.

“You know,” Yuta began, rapping his fingers against the table, “when Johnny willed his time slot to you, I don’t think he expected you’d use it for such self-serving purposes.”

Mark rolled his eyes even farther into his head this time. “It’s an hour where I impose my music taste on the small group of people who actually bother to tune in. What could be more self-serving?”

Yuta clicked his tongue. Mark had a point.

“Anyway,” said Mark, hopping to his feet, “what do you want to do, Yuta?”

***

Since it was raining out, they decided they would have to stay mostly indoors, so they resolved to wander around the market hall until they came up with a more exciting activity, Yuta letting Mark store his guitar in the trunk of his car while they perused. Sicheng was invited along too, but he had a dance class to run in half an hour and needed to review his lesson plan ahead of time, so it was just the two of them.

Well, it was just the two of them until they got to the Jung family farmstand at the end of the long, warehouse-like building. Jaehyun sat behind it, writing something into a notebook and looking so bored that his face was practically melting into the hand supporting it.

“Oh, thank god,” he said when he saw his friends approaching. “It’s been such a slow day I was ready to choke myself out just to have something to do.”

“Ooh, kinky,” Yuta guffawed at his friend as Mark nodded slowly.

“Nice to see you too, man,” Mark said.

“Want anything?”

Yuta and Mark surveyed their options: a selection of dairy products, meat, and eggs in a set of coolers, and a table covered in artichokes, celery, pears, asparagus, broccoli, brussels sprouts, cabbages, and a veritable rainbow of root vegetables. As usual, the Jung family farm’s output looked delicious. Maybe Yuta would get something for his parents to put in tonight’s dinner. He grabbed a bundle of radishes by the leaves and shoved them at his friend with a grin.

Mark, on the other hand, knew immediately what he would go for.

“And, uh, can I get a banana milk?”

Jaehyun nodded as Yuta gave his younger friend his best side-eye.

“You just drank a giant hot chocolate. Haven’t you had enough dairy for one day?”

Mark pouted, fishing for his wallet, and Yuta couldn’t help but smile at the way Mark’s eyes looked like shiny tea saucers. He could be devilishly cute sometimes. Cute enough to make Yuta want to buy shit for him, which he did, paying for the radishes and the milk before Mark even had the opportunity to complain.

“Drink up!”

Mark glared. “Fine. I’ll just sneak-buy you something next time.”

Yuta wobbled his head like an anime heroine as he spoke. “Oh, so I’ll get a next time? Man, this date is going so well!” he said, and Mark’s ears flushed for the second time in thirty minutes. A niggling voice in the back of Yuta’s head told him he wanted to see Mark like that more often. He brushed that idea away, not quite knowing how to process it.

“Whatever,” Mark mumbled as Jaehyun looked on in his usual casual detachment. Yuta turned his attention back to him.

“By the way, Jae, where are your parents? Can’t they come relieve you of your existential dread?”

Jaehyun blew a puff of air at his bangs. “I wish,” he responded. “They’re out of town for the weekend though, so I’m left to suffer alone. Oh – which reminds me! Can you go check on Sugarfoot and Lacey for me? They probably need their water troughs refilled right about now. And besides, I’m sure they miss Mark.”

Yuta and Mark agreed easily. Everyone loved those horses, even if Sugarfoot could be a pain in the ass. When Yuta was a teenager, she had apparently decided he’d lived long enough, because she tried to buck him off until Yuta was pretty sure he’d suffered acute whiplash. Besides Jaehyun, Johnny was the only person she seemed to tolerate (and tolerate simply meant she was a bitch to him rather than straight-up murderous), but alas, Johnny wasn’t around.

“Perfect,” Jaehyun said. “I’d do it myself, but everyone here knows my parents and they’d definitely somehow manage to tell them I’d abandoned my post. You know where the keys to the stable are and everything, right?”

“Yup!”

And with that, Yuta and Mark left Jaehyun to return to pondering auto-asphyxiation.

It had stopped raining outside, and the sky was in the process of clearing from a mournful grey to a clear periwinkle, like a windshield-wiper was slowly swiping across it to rid it of clouds. They ran into Taeil on the way to Yuta’s car, in the middle of walking five dogs of varying sizes and breeds.

Naturally, Mark became immediately preoccupied by the tangle of fur attached tenuously to Taeil’s wrist by a set of leashes. The cute scene made Yuta’s chest go tight with fondness.

Yuta told Taeil they’d missed him at the party the night before as Mark rolled around on the wet ground, getting his face smothered by a particularly friendly Chow Chow and laughing like his lungs were about to burst out of his chest.

“I know, I’m sorry!” Taeil said, trying not to let himself get tugged around. “It was just last minute and I’d already been roped into cooking for my family, and we had friends over – bad timing.”

Yuta waved him off. “Don’t worry, I’ll only hold it against you forever. But when do you go back to the city?”

“Next week,” Taeil replied, leaning down awkwardly to save Mark from five rough tongues. Taeil didn’t have a dog himself (although he did have a goose in his backyard, a fact which Yuta was never not perplexed by) but his family owned the local pet shop and he always had dog-walker duty when he was home. It was also how he made money when he was in high school. “We should definitely get together before I go back though!” Taeil continued. “You guys can help me make this pasta dish I’ve been wanting to try. Sound good Mark?”

Mark got up, brushing the wet dirt off his backside. “What? Oh yeah, for sure! I’m always down to eat – and to see you, Taeil. I didn’t forget about you.”

Taeil looked dryly at his younger friend. “Yeah, of course. But listen, Mark, it’s really good luck we’re home at the same time. I need you to tell me all about how the Aca-Fellas are doing.” Mark nodded shyly. Taeil had been the star of the a cappella group at his college, so he’d had plenty of run-ins with the Fellas at competitions. His own superiority at singing was something it was at times difficult to get him to shut up about. Taeil continued:

“Anyway, I should be going. These guys are getting squirrely, and I don’t want them to do their business right here. I’ll see you two around, I guess. Enjoy the rest of your date!”

Hey, Yuta thought, that’s my joke. Somehow it made him feel weird to hear someone else use it.

***

They were at Jaehyun’s stables after a short drive, and they found the keys easily. Mark scratched lovingly at Lacey’s chin as Yuta filled the troughs with water. Then, they decided it was as good a time as any to see if Johnny was free to FaceTime. He was.

“Heyoooo,” Johnny greeted once his pixelated face flashed onto Yuta’s phone. Yuta laughed. His friend looked happy and healthy. “Oh what? You have Mark with you? Sweet!”

They caught up on Johnny’s life for a few minutes; he was having a great time on his own, but he missed everyone and couldn’t wait to come home in the summer.

“Hurry home,” Yuta joked, getting up from the bail of hay he’d been sitting on because Sugarfoot was cribbing on the door to her stable. “I think Taeyong is wilting without you here.”

Johnny chuckled indulgently. “I’m sure he’ll be fine.” He gasped and his image froze in the exaggerated reaction face he’d pulled, making Mark squeak with laughter. “Is that my favorite girlie?” came his crackling voice.

Yuta held the phone up to Sugarfoot, nudging her head a bit to get her to detach her teeth from the wood. “Sure is.”

Johnny asked if Jaehyun was there, so Yuta informed him on their friend’s predicament. Then Johnny addressed Mark, telling him he should try braiding Sugarfoot’s dark mane – he’d found she had come to enjoy it. Mark, being the least experienced with Jaehyun’s bitch of a mare, immediately fell for it and tried, causing Sugarfoot to squeal and jerk her neck away from his touch. He fell back on his butt in surprise and Johnny cackled through Yuta’s phone speaker.

“Aw, I see college hasn’t made you less gullible, Markie-boy.”

“It most certainly has not,” Yuta confirmed, and Mark attempted a glare, but it only ended up looking like what he’d done when Johnny tried to teach him how to flirt that one time.

Johnny continued. “Anyway, Mark how are you really? I don’t care about this old hag; Yuta, give the phone to Mark.”

Yuta handed over the phone with a casual threat of murder.

Mark was doing well. Johnny asked if his a cappella group had let him rap yet. Mark rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, leaning against the stable door right next to Lacey.

“Naw, not yet,” he said. “Just beatboxing for now. Eventually...”

Johnny shrugged. “It’s okay. When you’re a senior you can run the group and do whatever the hell you want. And, when they see how good you are, that’ll really show ’em.”

Yuta watched the conversation unfold, reveling in the warm feeling he got from watching some of his favorite people interact.

“Are you doing the Serotonin Hour justice, by the way?” Johnny asked. “Playing that good shit?”

Mark fumbled around a response so Yuta cut in, yelling from off-screen. “He’s great, Johnny! Wish you were here to tune in because I think he might be surpassing you in quality already.”

Yuta heard Johnny scoff as Mark looked embarrassed. “Impossible!” Yuta leaned in next to Mark and Johnny asked about his own parents.

Yuta frowned. “Can’t you just call them and ask how they’re doing?”

“I did! I do!” Johnny said, exasperated. “I wanted to hear it from a third party though, otherwise all they tell me is ‘we’re good, John, we’re good. Everything’s just fine.’ Know what I mean?”

Mark answered. Mr. and Mrs. Seo were doing just as well as they let on to their son, as far as he could tell. This seemed to satisfy him.

Johnny had to go soon after this, so Yuta and Mark took the opportunity to get back in Yuta’s car and drive to his house, where brand new purple crocuses had pushed through the dirt in the front yard.

Yuta led Mark straight to his loft when they arrived, happy to finally have some actual alone time with his friend. He didn’t know where this territorial streak was coming from. He usually did it as a joke – especially with Mark and Sicheng – but all of a sudden, he didn’t feel like he was joking anymore. He shrugged it off mentally. It probably had something to do with his repression, he figured, realizing he hadn’t followed all his mother’s instructions yet. Oh well, the meditation could wait.

“Do you want to stay for dinner?” he offered. “We can hang out all day that way, until you’re absolutely fed up with me.”

Mark giggled as they traipsed through the wet grass, passing the fresh crocuses.

“Uh, yeah, that sounds good,” Mark agreed. “I’ll text my parents and ask them.”

“I don’t think you’ll need to,” Yuta remarked, pointing straight ahead to where Mr. Lee stood in his driveway, getting ready to go out. “Mr. Lee!”

Mark’s dad turned around, startled for a moment, before waving.

“Your son is eating dinner over here!” Yuta yelled. “We’ll take good care of him!”

Mark laughed nervously at Yuta’s side as his dad consented. Yuta had to admit that his life was a little emptier when Mark’s ridiculous giggle-fits weren’t a daily feature.

Back in Yuta’s room, Mark hooked his phone up to Yuta’s Bluetooth speaker and played one of his most recent DJ set playlists while Yuta sat at his vanity and yanked a radish from the bunch he’d bought earlier from Jaehyun, biting off a chunk. It tasted watery and sharp.

“What are you doing?” Mark protested. “I thought those were for your parents.”

“I’m only taste-testing,” Yuta defended, mouth full of radish. “Calm down.” He poised the other half of the radish as if he were about to overhand chuck it in Mark’s direction. That was, in fact, what he planned to do. “Open up.”

Mark’s eyes went wide. “But it has your spit on it!”

Yuta rolled his eyes. “Don’t be a baby.”

Mark nodded in acquiescence, opening his mouth for a split second before thinking of something else to worry about.

“This seems dangerous though, like what if I choke on it?”

“Then that’s really too bad because I do not know the Heimlich,” Yuta snarked. “Try not to.”

Mark opened his mouth again and Yuta threw the radish in an arc the few feet between them. Mark shuffled a little to align his mouth and caught the radish, doing a little dance of victory when he realized he’d succeeded.

“Yoooooo!” he yelled around his mouthful.

Yuta clapped, he remarked to himself, like a cheerleader congratulating his boyfriend. Whatever. He wasn’t above that.

“That’s what I call synchronicity!” he said.

Then, Yuta decided to experiment with combinations of the new earrings he’d bought recently while he and Mark talked. They ended up mostly reminiscing about the stupid hijinks they’d gotten themselves into over the years: the time they got drunk and went skinny-dipping in the bioluminescence despite a slew of recent shark sightings (Mark kept trying to drift off into the mist and when they heard a loud splash near them in the water, Yuta asked Mark if he’d retrieve his dick if it got bitten off. “Is that something you would want me to do?” Mark had responded); the time they went cliff-diving as a group and somehow Yuta managed to injure himself while stumbling over rocks to take a picture and then tried to tell everyone who hadn’t been there that he’d hurt himself jumping into the water so he wouldn’t sound like an idiot; the time Mark tried weed for the first time and became convinced he was suffering an aneurysm, begging Yuta to make him a potion for it; all the times Yuta and Mark travelled to dance competitions together as kids and shared hotel rooms, planning their entire futures as they waited to get sleepy. They had promised to always have houses next to each other, and that their families and spouses would be forever close.

Yuta sometimes found that, with long-time friends he didn’t get to see as often as he would have liked, it was easier to reminisce than to create new, whole memories. It had nothing to do with Mark’s value as a friend, and they still came away from every summer with plenty of additional experiences and stories, but Yuta hated the feeling he sometimes got of their rhythm being off during the shorter breaks. He worried their friendship would calcify into something past tense. But then again, he figured, a deep understanding like what he and Mark shared didn’t need constant updates.

Being with Mark sometimes took him back to being eighteen – right before he left for college – and in a way he liked that as much as he liked his friend. He just got an occasional sinking feeling that they were missing each other’s landmarks. It was irrational, but he couldn’t deny it.

Mark had moved on to updates about his friend group as Yuta held a thin and dangly silver earring against his lobe. Mark nodded in approval and Yuta worked to stifle a sudden bout of coughing. Ah yes. There it is.

Later, at the dinner table, Yuta hardly got a word in edgewise with his parents and sister grilling Mark on how his first year was wrapping up: was his friend group holding up? Yup. Did he like his second semester classes? He did. Was he still sure he wanted to pursue a conservation major? Yes. Did he know who he’d room with the next year? He was going to try to room with his friend Yeri, but they had to sign a consent form for co-ed housing first. When was his next a cappella performance? The big one was in late April. Did he have a significant other?

Yuta almost hacked up a spoonful of his root vegetable soup before glaring at his mom, the source of that query.

“Aish, why does everyone wanna know that?” asked Mark, setting his spoon down for a second. “Sorry, it’s just really funny to me. No, I don’t.”

Yuta looked across the table to his mother and caught her sending an irritated look right back at him. He figured it was probably related to the vague threat she’d made earlier that she would know if he didn’t follow all her advice by the time he got home in the evening.

Once they’d finished eating, the boys helped wash the dishes and Mrs. Nakamoto gifted Mark a little vial of her signature lucky potion for him to use during finals.

“Bye, little dingus,” Haruna called to Mark as he and Yuta were on their way out for a quick post-prandial stroll. Yuta turned around.

“Don’t talk to your elder that way!” She rolled her eyes.

Outside, it was fully dark, and a distinct late-winter chill tinged the air enough that Yuta had to burrow his chin into the collar of his bomber jacket. Rather than the chatter of crickets they would have heard at that hour during summertime, the air sung with the hush of breeze rustling the pines and the distant break of ocean waves. Yuta thought bittersweetly about how the next time he’d see Mark for an extended time, the crickets would be back.

“Sorry for all the prying,” Yuta grumbled as the two made their way to the little pedestrian suspension bridge over the river on the edge of town. The river led to the ocean eventually, but inland, it felt thin and closed-off all the same. This bridge passing over it was one of Yuta and Mark’s favorite spots to sit and chat late at night without anyone hearing. In fact, it was that type of spot for most of the town’s young residents.

“Don’t be,” Mark said jovially, kicking his feet leisurely as he walked. “I expect it at this point. Bet you remember what that’s like.”

Yuta nodded. He did.

“You know,” Mark began, “it’s actually sorta calming to get the same questions over and over again. Cuz like, for some reason I keep getting really stressed out when I come home. I don’t know why…It’s kind of annoying.”

Yuta pointed at Mark in recognition as he chimed in. “No – I know exactly what you mean. I used to get that too. Remember when I had that panic attack?”

Mark nodded. “Oooh yeah, man, I do. You were calling me at like two in the morning and you sounded like you were crying. I had no idea what you were on about. But I guess now I understand more.”

Yuta smiled to himself as the sound of the river added its own particular hush to the mix of natural noises. He tried not to take too much comfort in the idea that his friend was now suffering the same way he had. At least it was a pretty privileged form of suffering…

Yuta took a deep breath, looking up and trying to find stars in the hazy dark sky.

“My mom calls it liminality. She says it's natural to feel spiritually detached at times of transition. It’s like your identity is thrown into flux and it can be hard to balance your competing selves all at once. You’ve got your independent college self and my little Markie boy who lives with his parents and can’t drive.” At this, Yuta grabbed Mark and tried to give him a noogie. “I think that’s what’s stressing you out. Might do you some good to recognize it and hear it verbalized.”

Mark laughed. They were approaching the entrance to the bridge. “I guess that makes sense. I – wait.”

Yuta took a second to register that Mark had cut himself off and stopped walking. He was staring into the distance towards the bridge, so Yuta followed his gaze. He blinked a few times in the dark, but once his vision focused, he noticed what Mark had been looking at: a dark lump in the center of the suspended walkway. It seemed to be moving – writhing almost – and Mark placed a finger over his mouth to indicate they should be silent. Little groans and giggles emanated from the wiggly lump over the rush of the water. It was a person – no – people.

Yuta felt himself about to start laughing, and he didn’t want to disrupt whatever moment was going on in front of them, so he grabbed Mark’s arm and hauled him away, running back towards their houses and cracking up the minute they thought they were out of earshot.

Mark tried to catch his breath from all the exertion. “Were, were they –”

“Fucking?” Yuta finished for him. “Yeah, I think so.”

Mark leaned over his knees. It was the same position Yuta had used several times in the last day to combat his lung issue. “Shit, man,” he said. “I was not expecting that.”

Yuta shook his head in disbelief. “Me neither. Here; on that note, let’s get you home. The Lees deserve their son back.”

“Sounds good. That’s enough excitement for one night.”

***

Yuta tiptoed back into the kitchen before going to the barn to sleep, opening the fridge to sneak another few bites of the raspberry meringue cake his mom had bought on a whim from the Seos while shopping for dinner.

Her voice in the dark startled him so badly that he jolted against the refrigerator shelving, rattling a whole row of bottled drinks and sauces and causing a racket.

“Holy shit, mom, you’re going to kill me,” he said, holding a hand against his chest like a 19th century gentlewoman.

“Come to the living room with me, Yuta,” she said, bypassing his griping.

Yuta gulped, following his mother’s directions until he was sitting cross-legged on the ground in front of her lounge chair.

“Didn’t I tell you I’d notice if you blew off my instructions?” she asked, sipping from a cup of tea. It smelled like chamomile and it was making Yuta sleepy.

“I know,” he said, “but I was with Mark all day and I didn’t want it to be weird for him while I like, went off into a corner to ruminate on my inner demons or whatever. I was still gonna do it. Also, I drank the potion you gave me.”

“I understand Yuta,” she said, cutting him off before he could spew any more excuses, “but you’re going to do it right now. I want you to feel better.”

“I already do feel a little better,” Yuta said, though he knew he was lying. His mom knew it too, because she gave him a skeptical sideways glance.

“You looked like you were holding in a coughing spell all through dinner,” she informed him. Had he? Yikes… “So, close your eyes.”

Yuta knew how this was going to go, but still, he let his mom lead him through breathing and visualization, focusing on tracking and changing the color and temperature of his internal energy as it passed through each of his limbs, his gut, hit neck and shoulders, his head, and finally, to his lungs. He tried to pull air in until it touched the extremity of them, boundaries of his body going fuzzy in concentration, but it was difficult for him; shaky almost.

His mother’s voice floated into his consciousness, instructing him to imagine the hollow of his mind and let thoughts begin to trickle in without obstruction; to let them come and go without judgement.

He thought of what Mark had been saying on their walk and how it resonated with his own experiences, how it frustrated him that he could never quite recreate the comfort of his and Mark’s dynamic when he visited him at school and they were with all Mark’s first year friends (at least Kun and Jaehyun were around at times, but still). He thought about how weird it felt for all his friends to be scattered around. Mostly though, he thought about the strange burning tightness that had been threatening to cut off his air supply over the last day whenever he dwelled too much on thoughts of his best friend, on observing him, on feeling lucky to know him.

Next thing he knew, he was coughing aggressively again, dragging in empty breaths whenever his throat gave him a break from its violent convulsing. The metal wires felt like they’d made their way into his heart. Neither his breathing nor his coughing was satisfactory though; there was still something stuck. What on earth was wrong with him?

Yuta latched back onto the sound of his mother’s voice as he calmed down and opened his eyes. She knelt next to him on the floor, rubbing over his back and knitting her brows in concern.

“Oh darling,” she cooed. “Have some tea.” He drank gladly, but this time the obstruction inside him stayed right where it was halfway down his windpipe. “It’s just as I thought. Something is blocking you off from your spiritual self.”

Yuta blinked some tears of exertion from his eyes, smirking as he returned somewhat to himself.

“You sure it’s not just my sarcasm?” he joked, and his mom scowled.

“Well, that’s certainly not helping,” she said. She kissed his forehead and pulled away to find her tarot deck. “But I am proud that you took that seriously. It obviously stirred something. Let me do a quick reading for you and then we can both get to bed.”

Yuta waited as she set up the deck and drew a six of cups, reversed. He sighed. Intense nostalgia; feeling caught in the past or with a past self. That much was obvious.

Yuta’s mother smiled at him softly. “Whatever this is, it’s holding you hostage in memories and longing.” He nodded, remembering his earlier conversation with Mark where they couldn’t seem to stop dwelling on an idealized highlight reel of teenage shenanigans. Right. “Do you want to talk about it now?”

“Not really.” Yuta yawned. He didn’t know if it was because he was actually tired or because he wanted this to wrap up.

Mrs. Nakamoto started packing her cards back up. “That’s alright. You should get some sleep anyway. Good night, dear.”

“G’night.”

***

Yuta gave back into coughing the minute he’d crossed the threshold to his room. He ran to the small trashcan next to his desk, still full of bottles from the night before, and heaved into it so hard he thought his eyes might pop out. Finally though, he had a twinge of relief when the thing that had been caught in his airway materialized on his tongue and his trachea cleared fully for the first time all day. He reached into his mouth and plucked out the offending object, holding it between his fingers over the trash. It was long and yellow and smooth, shaped like the wooden paddles Donghyuck’s ice cream shop gives out for testers.

A horrifying thought crossed Yuta’s mind as he rolled the delicate yellow petal softly between his fingers, watching it disintegrate under his touch and the acid of his saliva. He turned to the bouquet on the coffee table to his left, shivering as he caught a glimpse of the sunny yellow rays of petals adorning each of the three baby sunflowers in the vase. His heart dropped into his feet.

Of course.

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irisallenm · 4 years

Text

Trust Me — Takami Keigo (Hawks) x GN!Reader

For Hypoxia. Hope that you like it! I had a lot of fun writing this piece~

This is part of my first ever exchange! And here is the request I choose: I'd like something very fluffy and cheery maybe with a little bit of humor? I just want some cuteness with Hawks to get his mind off of his job. Could be nsfw or sfw.

Words: +1.2k

Warnings: a hot mess and my first time writing Hawks even if the only time I’ve seen him was on the heroes rising movie...

Keigo has a surprise for your anniversary, and what looked simple turns into hell.

Keys to read this:

Y/N: Your Name

When you opened the door the last thing you were expecting was to see the white clouds filling the air. The smell of garlic was strong and the pepper made you sneeze, quite a ton.

‘Bless you, birdie’. Your husband said from somewhere in the room. ‘Like what you smell?’

Another spasm followed by some irritation inside your nose.

Sneeze after sneeze.

‘What the…’ You couldn't finish your words there it was again, another sneeze. ‘Babe, what are you doing?’

His face was covered with flour, and his hands dirty with egg and paprika.

‘Fried chicken, of course’. He tried taking his hair out of his face and some stuff stuck in his blond locks. ‘It’s been a while since i had a day off and I thought it would be a good idea to make you something, ya know, with all my love~’

It was as if he was chirping, what a dork.

‘And where did you find this “masterpiece” of recipe?’ You hand was on your mouth, trying not to breath directly to the mist lingering on the air.

‘Oh, I watched it once on some cooking show on the tv’, his hand started mixing some weird goo on a container. ‘I know the recipe, it’s in my head’.

Well, by the looks of the water on the floor, the flower on his nose and the egg on his hair it seemed as a lie. There was something weird about that, it was not as if you didn't trust him, but your heart told you otherwise. Your eyes searched the whole room, he was cleaning everything after, “it’s not going to be me” you though, “not a chance”.

‘You know the recipe?’ You quirked a brow ‘Really?’

You were a chef, a well know one and the mess of husband in front of you was a pro hero, two different works, two different persons. All those years had tough you that doing something from memory was not a good idea.

‘Don’t worry, birdie.’ His hands tried to grab the salt, but it fell on the mixture. All. Of. It. ‘Trust me, everything is going to taste perfect, even the little bird is going to like it’.

Yeah, that definitely wasn’t happening. Your child was not going to take part of this massacre.

‘Speaking of which, where is she?’

‘Asleep,’ his eyes looked at the clock. ‘There’s still a couple of hours before waking her up, so just take a seat and enjoy the show’.

It hit you when he turned around, he had an apron. Yes, but nothing else.

‘Keigo!’

‘Yes, baby bird?’

‘Why are you not wearing any clothes?’ You scolded him ‘It’s dangerous! And the child is in the house’.

‘I already told you, the little bird is sleeping’. He moved his hips just for you, ‘just trust me, my love’.

You were done, now under his spell. Beautiful shape, a few scars, and his gorgeous red feathers; his muscles flexing with every small movement from his part.

‘Like what you see?’ A loud gulp sound came out of you trembling body. This was hot, he was hot. ‘Because you should check out your phone’.

‘What?’ And it was like magic, your phone starting chirping, like a bird, like him. ‘How? When?’

‘Just for you’. He smirked.

There he was, posing, the apron covering everything, and in the next one there where pectorals and belly showing, a happy trail calling you for some fun. The room felt hotter.

And when your eyes when up there he was, with the apron just at his waist, leaving almost nothing for your imagination.

He was looking at you with hungry eyes, maybe for the chicken… maybe for another thing.

Keigo turned the stove on and while he was waiting the pieces of food in his hand entered the weird bowl. One by one, the food was lost and you knew it. They went inside the flour first and later to the egg mixture. Totally backwards

‘That’s not--’

‘Shh baby’ his fingers touch your mouth. ‘I got this’.

Raw egg, disgusting. No hygiene at all, it was getting on your nerve, if it was some of your workers he would be fired by now!

His gaze turned back to the, now, burning oil, his tongue lolling in anticipation for the treat and without notice he started dunking the whole content on the bucket inside. The oil splashing everywhere and not missing his gorgeous, delicious, beautiful, ahem… abs.

‘Oh! Sh--’ He almost cursed.

‘Are you alright?’

‘Of course I aaaam----, stop touching me!’

‘See? You are NOT alright!’ You were kneeled down on both legs, wiping the scorching liquid with a towel. ‘Don’t move!’

You grabbed his hips and bring them just right in front of your face, without any ulterior intention up until that exact moment, the heath was indescribable.

‘You are on fire’ You said, calmly.

‘Don’t exaggerate’.

‘No, you are literally on fire!’

‘What?!’

‘Your feathers!’

And then cold water.

Without noticing you grabbed a bucket nearby and throw it at him, it was the old water from the mop.

‘Y/N… why?’

‘Oh my God, I’m so sorry!’ There were tears coming from your eyes, was it because it was funny or because you were scare of losing him? Who knew, either way you were crying.

‘Now the food is ruined’. He had a sad expresion. "Now?"

‘Keigo, I’m really sorry, I’m…’ But your words stopped.

‘Now what?’

‘What is that burn smell?

‘Haha, that’s not funny…’ He mocked, still sad.

‘No, well yes but no’.

‘Maybe it’s the--’

‘Keigo Takami!’ You shouted when you found the source of that smell. ‘Why in the hell happened inside the oven and why is a rock there!?

‘Ah, right’, he averted your gaze. ‘I was backing a cake as well’.

‘You broke the oven! That's not a cake!’

‘Please don’t get angry at me!’ His hands were trying to grab yours.

‘What in the hell were you doing that you forgot there was an entire cake in the freaking oven?!’

‘I was taking some pictures for you…’

‘The ones from earlier?’ Maybe you could forgive him.

‘Yes’, his face said “I’m sorry” but his eyes were telling other wise. ‘I’m hot right?’

‘Nope’, you popped the p while saying that lie. ‘You are just burn chicken'.

‘Babe, please’. He implored. ‘Let’s just forget about everything and go to bed, earlier you were looking at something you liked, right?’

‘We need to go and fetch some food for our child!’

‘She can wait’. He looked at the clock. ‘Another hour or so’.

‘Go get her, we are going to eat out now!’

‘As you wish, my little bird’.

He moved his butt in front of your body, trying to convince you to join him on the bedroom.

‘GO TAKE A BATH AND PUT SOME CLOTHES ON BEFORE DOING THAT!’ He was capable of doing everything, even going out, without clothes... and covered in weird stuff.

When he came back, with the child in his arms, he was pouting; but now he was clean, smelling like grass and wood.

‘I wanted to make this anniversary something special’.

‘How about we leave her with Enji for an hour then?’ You sighted.

His face brightened up, your lips connecting for a short but deep kiss.

‘I like how that sounds’.

‘But please promise me you are not going to try another recipe “from your mind” ever again’.

‘Trust me, after this… I won’t.

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steve0discusses · 4 years

Text

Yugioh S4 Ep 24: Someone Actually Called the Cops.

So recently I was like, “I should do something different than my usual” and I decided to open up a little thread for critiquing ppl’s short stories, and I kid you not, the very first story I got was someone’s Seto Kaiba erotica. Which, even in erotica form, did not have very much romance in it. So, now that Yugioh will apparently haunt my every waking move forever until I die, lets get back to S4. Lets desperately get back to canon. I miss canon.

Last we left off, Kaiba lost KaibaCorp...again. Really feels like he loses this company once every couple of years (weeks if we count season 1-3). Except, this time, Dartz didn’t read the fine print in the legal files that says the company must be run by a member of the Kaiba family. While that was a huge plot point with Pegasus, turns out that Seto and Mokuba’s memories have been blended so thoroughly, like a very fine Shadow Realm smoothie, that they just...forgot.

And like I’m positive that Roland remembers, but Roland’s not gonna say something and accidentally reveal he’s the 4th Kaiba brother and have to get abducted all the time and actually work for a living. Anyways, they forgot why Pegasus abducted them in the first place in Season 1, and honestly, so did the writers of this season 4 years later. Not like it mattered, because if Seto and Mokuba did take Dartz to court, the world would end before their case would even start.

Which is how, after one talk with Roland, Seto and Mokuba just sort of laid prone on the metaphorical ground and let it wash over them that yes, KaibaCorp is gone.

I really like this extra-long helicopter, PS.

Both members of Kaiba’s Sunglasses Army decided to align themselves with Kaiba, although honestly, I don’t think anyone else in this company has realized that they’ve been bought. It happened...1 hour ago. Like what do you even do if your company randomly gets bought in the middle of a workday? Like no lead up, no indication, just BAM you’ve been bought?

And if Duke works for Pegasus who got bought out by Dartz and then Dartz bought Kaiba Corp-------What does that make Duke? Is he gonna have to start wearing sunglasses inside?

Anyway, Roland knows better than to tell Seto Kaiba he doesn’t work for him anymore while still in the same helicopter as Seto Kaiba, who already crashed one plane today and will crash yet another plane before this episode is through.

(read more under the cut)

Seto decides to align with Yugi since he needs to confront Dartz eventually. Which is when we find out that Seto always planned to align with Yugi and was just giving him a really hard time.

Because over the last several episodes, Seto has had an entire team at this random museum in Florida in order to take some pictures (that really should have already been on the internet but wtv, it was 2003 so maybe it wasn’t?)

It’s like most of the way through s4 and the biker ninjas still send me. How did he make SO MANY biker ninjas? At what point was Dartz like...and now...all my mooks...will be ninja bikers. Or orcs. Mostly Ninja bikers.

Did Alister or the others ever tell him “hey, Master Dartz, I get that your 10000 years old but like...do you not understand what a biker is?” and was Dartz like

“clearly bikers are the most evil thing in the world, obviously.” completely unaware that most bikers are just 45 year old accountants.

In these scenes we also get a gander at their laptops and, if you ever want to see high level life crippling OCD anxiety in picture form, it’s illustrated very clearly right here:

Not only did they draw this keyboard in 1 pt perspective, they used like a ruler to draw all those letters so they were the same size. Some artist put so much time getting this nice and crisp and smooth...and then this happened.

And I’m pretty sure they died after that. I’m pretty sure this scene killed an artist.

It’s at this point that Yami kinda puts two and two together and was like “WE BOUGHT PLANE TICKET’S, YOU ASSHOLES.”

(It’s been such a long time since we’ve seen Mokuba smile like this, and it’s because he’s been hiding the fact for So Many Episodes that he and his brother prepped like hours ago to get this huge dunk on the rest of the party. He just wants to dunk on them so bad. Look at him. His company was bought today. BUT he gets to spend time with his bro dunking.)

Serious question, will Delta refund your flight if the Great Leviathan appears in the sky and tries to eat your soul to reboot the world from the ground up?

Of course not. They will never refund your flight. Trick question.

We switch back over to Rebecca and Duke, who have been absent from this show for so long, I actually forgot what Duke’s name was and had to think for like...5 entire minutes until I remembered that his nickname sounds like a poop and I was like “oh man, what name of poop would it be???” and then I recalled “Dookie. Yes. His name is literally Dookie. Wow that took way too long!”

Then we start a story arc I’d to call “My Kingdom For a Sharpen Filter” where, much like King Lear, the Yugi crew splays themselves on a battle field just strewn with different ways to sharpen an image, but can’t for the life of them use any other one, but the one deep in the heart of what is now DartzCorp.

And so yes, we are going to fly to San Fransisco, hop into ye Olde KaibaCorp, and log into proto-Noah in order to read a language that Arthur Hawkins can already read.

This is nonsense, but they put it there because it’s something to do. And honestly, it’s not a card game, so I’m down for this change-up. Lets go visit a version of Noah’s brain. At least they won’t drop an orichalcos for the 12th episode in a row.

On the way, Seto decides to try and egg on Yugi.

This backfires as you expect it will because Yami doesn’t freakin care. Like he’s not Yugi, he doesn’t care who the King of Games is, he harnesses freakin Dark Magic. The Wizard never cares if he’s King Arthur or not, and in fact, he probably prefers it....

..................Except in that spinoff where they had Yugi as a reincarnation of King Henry VII.

...................................................never mind.

And then Seto Kaiba says this actual line and I just...

WH.

WHHH

WHAT?

This entire show is just watching Yugi desperately cling to his scary ass hobbies. The tagline of Yugioh is “1001 reasons to go back to school and get a real job.”

What does Kaiba think Yugi does when he’s not around? Does he actually think Yugi attends school or sleeps at night or works an actual job? Like...he thinks Yugi has...NO HOBBIES.

Very interesting insight into what Seto considers a hobby and not hobby.

Especially since this Yami, who spends most of his spare time farting around his scary ass brain castle and getting lost. Occasionally he is forced on a date with Tea and wipes minds. That’s it. That’s all the things Yami does outside of hobbies.

Anyway, what is Dartz doing during all of this?

After this, Dartz pulls back the literal curtains on this room to reveal these candles that each hold the soul of someone he’s murdered.

There are not NEARLY enough candles for this segment.

A very brave man to have candles littered on the floor when his hair is down to his ass and all of his mooks have floorduster coats.

I really want to know what the local arts and crafts store thought when Dartz strode in there and bought every single tiny styrafoam skull during the Halloween sale and was like “can I put souls in these? You sell the kind I can put souls in, right?” and then immediately pulled out like a dozen 50% off coupons like a complete asshole.

Anyway, using this candle hocus pocus, Dartz uses the Orichalcos powers to take advantage of something Yugi did in the first episode. We distantly recall there was a giant eyeball in the sky--turns out if you bust up the eyeball with, lets say, a card that has a dragon on it, the eyeball will explode into many tiny Orichalcos pieces that will fall all over planet Earth.

So apparently Yugi didn’t save anyone at all when he busted that eyeball, because he instead set in motion Dartz’ evil plan to eventually use these many tiny Orichalcos pieces like the one seen here, to kill the hell out of people.

Good job, Yugi. Too bad you missed the Actual Bakura.

In fact, actual Bakura is probably the only one who survived this incident because I guarantee that Ryou Bakura is too busy eating all the contents of his fridge out of stress. He’s probably opened his window at this point, seen the crazy lights in the sky and in the street and was like “Blooooooody nope nopenopenopenopenope” and just locked the windows and doors, turned up Hercule Poirot to max volume, and stuffed his face with cookies.

(Or biscuits, I guess.)

WELL.

I don’t know how to tally that.

Yugioh not only broke the tally I was using to measure the distance they spent commuting this season, it also broke the tally on the amount of people who have died on this children’s show.

That’s a really big number.

We’ve had real duel monsters for a couple weeks but youknow...this time they’re extra, extra, extra real. More so than the last times. Also they’re all Orichalcos versions of their cards so their extra edge now. They’re the hot topic versions of what were already pretty hot-topic ass cards.

MMM. We come full circle, back at a dock, a warehouse, and some huge ass boat.

Right where we belong. Where all friends meet, where we can all finally be one.

Yugioh found one of the only cities that has a very famous and tourist heavy pier/warehouse district in it just so the Yugi gang could finally feel comfortable in their natural habitat. HOWEVER, there’s just one tiny problem in this scene, and it’s that it’s not overlaid with the actual soundscape of a SF pier, which is that of 100000 screaming seals

youtube

I don’t have a seal problem, you have a seal problem.

Anyway, the only healthy adults here attempt to follow the children into danger but someone on the animation team was like “we just lost the keyboard drawing guy to that capslock! We cannot lose any more interns to a crowd scene with 9 people in it and 2 dead bodies!” and they uh...

And we immediately eject Roland and whoever that weird sunglasses guy is out of the script. Mokuba gave them a longing glance as they helicoptered away. Maybe because he missed his Dad stand-ins that he went through such efforts to call in the first place. Or more likely, because Mokuba would have preferred to be on that helicopter and far away from whatever the hell is going to go down on this dock.

Honestly the rest of Joey’s storyline this episode is him going rogue because of Mai rage, and it both comes out of nowhere and also seems very on point for him.

Meanwhile, Rebecca’s unbridled rage towards Yami Muto is still low key hilarious to me.

Witness the only character here who thinks Yami should suffer actual consequences and witness Yami just appear to not give a single damn about it.

Nearly spat out my own drink watching this.

The...

...police...

...exist in this universe?

Anyway, while Tristan and Tea try to locate a payphone to dial 911, Seto and Yugi decide to invade Seto’s own company by going through an elevator that you have to reach through the sewers.

Straight up I don’t think SF even has sewers. At least, not in the sense that you can walk in em like New York or Paris or other cities that have sewers. Our sewer systems are very small cuz we got something called “liquefaction” which means our ground is so soft (and artificial--a lot of the land is fake), that when there is an earthquake, certain parts of the city will...liquefy. It’s Terrifying. We kind of...avoid going and building underground except in certain stable places. (like even BART gives me the heebies.)

I just have a very strong distrust of basements, caves and other underground places in general and it’s not because of spiders, or ghosts or whatever, I’m just afraid of faultlines. It’s like having an active volcano, but you just don’t see it, and we haven’t had a Big One since 1989 so...any day now (I mean, 2020 has been such redic content, that I think we’re finally ready)

Again, Japan has way more intense Earthquakes than we do, and yet they have a billion underground subways and very, very tall buildings, so like, this is mostly a big cultural difference between the two of us. And the bedrock. They probably have better bedrock than we do (honestly, I just have no idea).

MASTER HACKER SKILLS.

Almost as good as that time he hacked into Pegasus’ company by dropping a satellite on it. I’m starting to think Seto actually doesn’t know how to use a computer.

Anyway, Seto is faced with...real cards, real monsters, indisputable evidence, and he decides, it’s time. It’s time to finally face facts.

So, while these two are just flinging cards around willy nilly, Tea and Tristan are ...actually talking to police.

4 seasons. They’re actually doing it.

Although, TBH, they probably should have gone to the Japanese Embassy first? Just throwing that out there.

Ah Yugioh, the only kids show around that tells you point blank not to trust cops. Timeless.

U.S

In some weird underground earthquake hazard, Rebecca proves that she is smarter than Seto Kaiba. She’s maybe even the smartest person on this show. Nice that we gave her nothing to do this season but pine over Yugi who is already taken by Tea who he is also not even dating.

Not that I love Rebecca or anything, I actually have a hard time with her voice, but like...they really dropped the ball on Rebecca.

If she does end up joining Kaiba corp as their back up Felicity Smoak while Seto just runs around aimlessly punching stuff that really is just offbrand Arrow but with cards. And with slightly less resurrections.

So, lets get a gander at that computer.

We didn’t get to see Kaiba pull out 12 other discs to complete the installation process for these all these Hard Discs. Maybe the lure of throwing a very aerodynamic CD across the room like a paper card was so strong that his dev team forced him to switch to these defunct squares?

PS, I am a true millennial, OK? But, I don’t remember Hard Discs.

Hard Discs were SO long go. I stopped using these damn things in Elementary school. The last Hard Disc I ever touched was in college, when I had to put my art portfolio on a disc to submit it to my degree. I don't know even why. Everyone had a mac, so I knew no one’s computer in the department even...HAD a disc drive so it was like...whomst among you has this damn computer from 1997? Whomst among you is still using Windows 95? WHY would I put IMAGES on a floppy when I can just email them to you?

Anyway, I had to get a USB hard disc reader, and to get that reader, I had to call my Dad who had legacy software because he’s a computer engineer, and he had to mail it to me.

In that same portfolio review, PS, I also had to submit my portfolio as slides.

I didn’t even know where to produce slides so I had to ask all these old people and go to the last photo processing store on earth to get digital pictures turned into negatives and then turned into freakin slides.

SLIDES.

I honestly think they just did that to weed people out of the art degree.

Anyway, I tell you this story just to say that there is no way in hell that Kaiba was using a hard disc during the height of the CD era. We were CD or go home since 2000. We had pretty decent jump drives at this point. We had wifi. It was realllly bad wifi, but we had it. Your phone could connect to the internet. It would charge you 50 bucks, but it COULD connect.

Who on the Yugioh team DID this?

Anyway lets see these pictures that for which, we spent thousands of dollars in unused plane tickets, destroyed a Caltrain, killed 2 ancient Atlanteans (and their dog), killed 3 random mid-villains, walked across the entire Peninsula, crashed an international plane, and left both the plane and the train to rot gas fuel into the nearest lake which is right next to a ghost graveyard?

Yeaaaaaaaaaah!

Like he reads it and is all “They’re gonna resurrect Atlantis” and it’s like WE KNOW. Dartz and his hooligans have talked about starting their Utopia to reboot the world since Gurimo. Since Day 1.

Man.

Anyways, there was one plus to the pictures, and it was that Seto Kaiba recognized the Oricalchos logo.

just...

The Oricalchos logo is...

...This logo, Seto?

You...didn’t recognize...seriously? Not until just now? You have been inside of this logo, rearing to lose your soul to Alister 2 times, and he only recognized it...just now.

I mean Seto takes a while y’all. He’s a genius, but his memory is so, so bad, that he will Eventually get smart, but you have to wait until like episode 24. But he’ll get there. Just gotta be patient.

And, when he saw it, he wigged out in a way I wasn’t prepared for.

Y’all I feel like I’ve seen to many weird zooms on Kaiba’s crotch in this show. Or just in life in general, especially after that surprise fic. That’s all.

I don’t know why everything exploded, but maybe the logo is cursed in the same way as God Cards? I dunno.

Anyway, this is when Dartz shows up with his brand new dog.

So they run outside onto the roof.

Now listen, does every Kaiba Corp building need the same weird ass roof? Is it like a McDonalds?

Because I’m just picturing this type of roof in SF and I’m having a time.

Forgive me if I made this lemming joke already. He’s just stood on a cliff’s edge so many times I can’t keep up.

RIP Dragon Jet, who took us from S3-S4, you’ll always live on in our memory, you glorious, wasteful, beautiful death trap.

Seto and Yugi are fine by the way, they just kinda jumped out, as you do when you’re an immortal god possessing a small boy and a...whatever the hell Seto is.

It’s at this point we reintroduce Valon because Joey went rogue and has decided to take on Dartz by himself. This is what happens when Tristan leaves the party. You always need Tristan to hold back Joey by his armpits to keep him from fighting random people.

So I guess Valon’s gonna die next episode. That’ll be nice.

What’s great about this show is each arc is just watching each villain die. You know they’ll die. But...how much?

Anyway, that’s all for today. I’m still drawing a hell ton of stuff so I don’t know when the next update will be...but just now I haven’t dropped off or something. I’ll...eventually get to it.

And if you just got here, this is a link to read all of these in chrono order.

Anyway, I mentioned Hercule Poirot, (because watching a hell ton of BBC was how I spent time with my family when I was a kid, and my very Southern Grandma freakin LOVED Hercule Poirot) So here is the best subplot of that show, which is David Suchet eating stuff.

And which doesn’t want to embed for some reason. Probs can’t embed more than one video https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=17antzzJrzQ

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chicgeekgirl89 · 4 years

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Mercy is Out of Your Reach: Chap. 3

Fandom: SEAL Team

Characters: Sonny Quinn, Clay Spenser, Lisa Davis, Jason Hayes, and the rest of the team

Read Chapters 1-3 Here

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Clay wasn’t a doctor, but he could tell Sonny was in bad shape. It had been a little over forty-eight hours, by his best estimate, since they’d been taken, and his buddy looked like he was going downhill fast. Sonny’s clothes still weren’t completely dry from the initial soaking and subsequent near drowning. He was propped against the wall, arms crossed over his chest as if he was trying to keep himself warm, and his breathing seemed labored.

His own back was bruised and hurting from the minor beating he’d taken, but he was doing fine by comparison. At least they’d been pretty well left alone since their initial chat with Farhad. Maybe he had too many other things on his bad guy agenda to pay attention to his American prisoners. Although Clay suspected that wasn’t going to last much longer. “You all right?” he asked.

“Right as rain,” Sonny grunted, but he didn’t lift his head.

“You got a plan yet for getting us out of here?” Clay asked, switching topics since Sonny didn’t seem interested in talking about himself.

Sonny squinted at him. “You asking me that cuz you really want to know? Or cuz you’ve already got one and you want to show off?”

He wished he had a plan. If he did they’d be out of here by now. But so far everything he’d come up with wasn’t feasible. Not while they were locked in this cell with armed guards all up and down the hall. Not with Sonny so sick. But maybe together they could come up with something. “Guards come by every half hour. Always in twos,” he said.

“There were six more cells and four doors between here and that room they took us to.”

Clay nodded; he’d noticed the same thing. “The girl who dropped the water off.”

That had been sometime yesterday. She’d been young, afraid. The guards waited outside while she set down the bucket and two plates of food. There had been no direct eye contact and when Clay had attempted to speak to her she’d flinched away and out the door as fast as she could.

“Could be somebody’s daughter,” Sonny said before coughing into his elbow.

“Hey you need to drink more man,” Clay said, taking in Sonny’s gray pallor.

“I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine.”

“Don’t matter how I look.” Sonny offered up a weak smirk. “‘Sides, you heard Farhad. You’re the pretty one anyway.”

The cell door clanged open and four guards stepped in. “We doing this again?” Sonny asked as the weapons were pointed at them and a command issued that clearly meant, “Get up.”

Back down the same hall, back into the same room. This time they didn’t waste a second; Sonny was dragged immediately over to the tub and dunked under. “Hey!” Clay struggled against the guards holding him and received several blows to his kidneys for his trouble. “Leave him alone!”

They pulled Sonny up and he made a horrible gasping, retching sound before they plunged him back under. In desperation Clay lashed out and managed to knock down one of his captors, the other thrown off balance, his grip going loose. Clay pulled away and made it about two feet toward Sonny before all his muscles seized at once and he collapsed. It was only when the excruciating pain finally hit that he realized what had happened. A stun gun. They’d struck him with a stun gun.

He wasn’t sure how much time passed, but by the time he was coherent again he could only lay groaning on the floor. There was a wet slap beside him and was able to turn his head enough to find Sonny in a similar position, coughing as if his lungs were trying to leave his body. “We’re just tourists,” Clay managed to gasp out. “We don’t know what you want. Please let us go.”

“I don’t believe you,” Farhad said. “You are American military. Stop trying to make me think otherwise.”

“Man please, please just let us go,” Clay begged.

It got him a boot to his ribs. “Tell me what you were doing in that café.”

“We were just eating man! My buddy’s got a cold, we got him some tea!”

Another kick that had him curling in on himself in pain. “I am losing my patience!” Farhad spat. “As I said before, I only need one of you. If you won’t talk, perhaps your wet friend over here will.”

Clay watched in horror as they pulled Sonny off the ground. One man pinned his arms behind his back while the other drew back his fist and punched him in the mouth. Sonny let out a sickened moan, blood dribbling onto the floor as they sank a second punch into his gut.

“Hey, hey stop it!” Clay yelled. “Leave him alone! He’s sick! Leave him alone!”

“Tell me what I want to know.” Farhad’s eyes were menacing.

Clay clenched his teeth. “We’re just tourists.”

“Fine then. I’m going to give you one more night to think about it. Tomorrow, I won’t care so much if either of you live. Or if your face stays too pretty for the Navy.”

Clay couldn’t tell if Sonny was conscious or not as they were dragged back to the cell. He waited for the door to shut before dragging himself over to his friend. “Sonny! Sonny hey! Hey look at me. Talk to me.”

Sonny remained listless, eyes fluttering and then mumbled something unintelligible. Clay shook him, trying not to hurt him any further, but needing him to be conscious.

“‘m ‘wake,” Sonny mumbled, rolling onto his side and spitting out a mouthful of blood.

“How bad are you hurt?”

“Not bad.” He coughed and it sounded painful.

“Drink some water.” Clay reached for the bucket with aching, trembling muscles and pushed it toward him.

“Don’t need—“

“Damn it Sonny, drink some water!” Clay said desperately. He didn’t have any other way to help his brother and he was grasping at straws. The least Sonny could do was listen.

“You drink some,” Sonny rasped. “I just drank half a damn swimming pool. You’re the one that got hit with a stun gun. Probably still can’t feel your feet.”

It was true, he couldn’t. His head ached and the muscle in his left calf kept cramping, along with his back and shoulders. “We’ll both drink some.”

He waited for Sonny to take a couple sips and then took his own. Sonny coughed painfully again and let his head fall back against the wall, struggling to get a full breath. Clay swallowed hard and closed his eyes. They needed to be found. Soon.

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His lungs ached. Every inhale was like breathing through a straw and every cough made sent fire through his chest. He couldn’t remember ever being this sick. What had just been a cold had definitely turned into something far worse.

He knew Jason and the team were searching for them. But he also knew that their abduction had come out of nowhere and there was a good chance that they might not find them in time.

Or ever.

He was grateful that so far they’d gone easier on Clay. He was the senior man, the brunt of whatever was happening should fall to him. But damn it would be nice if they stopped giving him so many baths.

Something caught in his chest and he hacked out a cough into his elbow, gasping for air and taking a sip of water to soothe his raw throat and burning lungs. When he looked up Clay was watching him.

“How bad is it?” he asked.

Sonny shook his head, suppressing another cough as much as he could. “Not bad.”

“Sonny.”

“Don’t matter. Ain’t nothing you can do about it anyway.”

“You’re shivering.”

“Stone floor.” Sonny tapped it with his fist. “Cold as ice. Even in the summer.”

Clay slid closer so they were side by side and put a hand to Sonny’s forehead. “You’ve got a fever.”

No wonder his joints ached and his head felt like a bag of wet cement. “Little fever never hurt anybody.”

“Yeah except for the part where it could kill you or fry your brain like an egg.”

“Eh, not much up there anyway,” Sonny said with a grin, wincing when it made his split lip pull and start bleeding again. With how painful each breath was he’d almost forgotten that they’d thrown a couple sucker punches in for good medicine.

“Sonny—“

“So tell me about Rebecca.”

Clay raised his eyebrows at the abrupt change of subject. “You don’t like Rebecca.”

“But I like you.” Sonny tried to settle into a more comfortable position and then gave up. Everything was uncomfortable when you couldn’t breathe. “And you like her. Sell her to me.”

“Sell her to you?”

“You know what I mean. Tell me what’s good about her. Give me all the dirty details.”

“I’m not—“ Clay shook his head. “She’s smart.”

“Well I figured that Mr. ‘War and Peace is Bedtime Reading.’ You’re always going for the hot and nerdy ones.”

“She’s passionate.”

“Now we’re getting somewhere.”

Clay rolled his eyes. “I mean about her job. She really cares, you know? Wants to make change.”

“Ah, one of those.”

“Yeah one of those. But she means it. I can tell. She makes me feel…like maybe I can do something more, you know? Be better. Make the world a better place.”

Sonny shrugged. “Kinda thought you already did that.”

“You know what I mean. In a different way. A bigger way.”

“You want bigger I’ll let you handle the explosives next time we need ‘em.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about.”

“Well, I can appreciate wanting to make things better.” He squinted at his friend. “Don’t tell me the looks don’t have anything to do with it though.”

Clay tried and failed to cover up his smirk. “She is definitely…nice to look at.”

“Ha! I knew it!” The laugh cost him and he started coughing again. “Damn it.”

He took a shaky breath trying to get under control. “You all right?” Clay asked.

“I’m fine. Fine as I’m gonna be.” Every breath felt like knives, but sure. He was fine.

“So what about you and Davis?”

Just the mention of her name and it felt like he’d been shot directly through the heart. “What about it?”

Clay looked at him. “You never really told me all that happened there.”

He didn’t want to talk about this now. Or maybe ever. “We were together, then we weren’t. Job got in the way.”

“But when you were together, it was good?”

“Best thing I’ve ever had,” Sonny said, throat feeling tight as memories flitted through his mind.

“D’you love her?”

Sonny fiddled with a stray string on his shirt. “We loved each other.”

The use of past tense felt like a lie even as it passed his lips. Sitting here in this filthy hellhole he knew: he still had feelings for her. He’d probably always have feelings for her. Their’s was a story left unfinished and now…it looked like they might never get a shot at a happy ending.

#SEAL Team #Clay Spenser #Sonny Quinn #Lisa Davis #Jason Hayes #Mercy is Out of Your Reach #Chapter 3 #Clay Spenser Whump #Sonny Quinn Whump #Beating #Illness #Fever #Fanfiction #Clay Spenser Fanfic #Sonny Quinn Fanfic

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purplesurveys · 4 years

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833

Given the chance, would you ever go into space? I’ve answered this exact question on a recent survey...but yeah absolutely, as long as it was a free opportunity. Outer space has always interested me so it would be awesome to actually get there. What is your all-time favorite thing to snack on? A local brand of chips called Nova, corndogs, powdered fries, and pizza. I couldn’t choose just one :( Have you ever been jealous of anyone's socks? Not in a toxic way but I have seen socks that made me go “damn, I wish I had that” and it’s usually socks based off of famous paintings like Starry Night, The Scream, etc. Do you match your clothing, or are you careless about fashion? The most I’ll match is colors; I’ll make sure the colors I wear complement each other. But I’m not likely to buy outfits that come in parts, like a matching top and skirt that have their own price tags. It’s an annoying scam that makes you have to pay more money for one outfit lol. Know anyone that has amazing fashion taste? There’s a professor in the communication research department of our college that dresses SOOOO well. She’s never recycled an item of clothing either. She dresses literally exactly like Audrey Hepburn, except with more printed clothes.

Do you know or wish you could knit? I don’t know how to knit and have no desire to learn.

Like earmuffs? They’re alright, I guess? I never have to wear them, so I don’t have much of an opinion. Have you ever had the roof of your mouth sore? Yeah, that one time I ate takoyaki while it was still burning hot and I burned off the skin on the roof my mouth. Do you like orange juice? I’ll drink it if it’s served or if it’s free, but I never crave for it. How many times a day do you brush your teeth, honestly? Once or twice. Do you think anyone really looks good in a jumpsuit? Yeah. Well it’s since become a trend so that’s really all there is to know about people’s preferences nowadays. I have several jumpsuits that I feel really good in. Have a collection of anything? Not anymore. Ever ran out of something that made you very upset? Sometimes my family will bring home leftovers from a really good restaurant. When we finish them all up it bums me out. Biggest lie you ever told? Saying ‘yes’ with a big ol’ smile on my face to my high school guidance counselors whenever they ask if my situation at home is good. Is there a song that makes you want to rock out? For sure. I have my fair share of favorite punk/rock bands. Do you have a religion? No. Believe that there is a point to churches? Not a single one. How do eat Oreos? I just bite into them. Never really got into the whole twist-lick-dunk thing because 1) I don’t want to bite into something I had already licked (even if it’s my own saliva lol), and 2) I can’t consume a lot of milk, anyway. -This or That- Sunsets or sunrises? Sunsets. I’ve seen more sunsets than sunrises with Gabie, so I have good memories of them. I don’t like the idea of getting up early just for a sunrise either. Pennies or dimes? Can’t relate because we don’t use these concepts. Coffee or tea? Coffeeeeeeee. Never been a tea person, actually. Windows or Mac? Mac. I did use Windows for a while, but when it comes down to it I would rather get a Mac. Headphones or speakers? Headphones. You get more of the sound when you listen to music, so the listening experience is a lot better. Loud or soft & quiet? Depends on the context...I like my concerts loud, but I obviously prefer soft and quiet when I’m doing something like going to bed. Odd or even numbers? I don’t really have a preference lol. The cookie dough or the actual cookies? Cookie dough, heh. Speaking of, I recently found a recipe for edible cookie dough but I keep putting it off... Mp3 players or iPod? iPod, mostly because MP3s went out of style like, a decade ago. Calm or rock music? Again, depends on my mood. I’d listen to rock music if I’m pissed off or going through a similar emotion, and I’d prefer hearing calm music when I wanna focus on something, like if I’m doing surveys. Love or lust? Love. I don’t feel lust for the most part. Converse or Vans? Converse. They’re AJ’s favorite and I find them more comfy. The few times I borrowed my sister’s Vans I always got blisters at the end of the day. Lipsyncing or actual singing? I would prefer to lipsync than to let people hear my actual singing voice; but if I’m watching a performance obviously I’d want the performers to be using their real voice. Walking or running? Walking. I find strolls to be relaxing. Dancing or watching others dance? Watching others. Dancers are crazy talented. With friends or by yourself? When it comes down to it, I wanna be with friends. Local concert or a popular band? Popular band. It’s rarer, so I find it more precious. I still support local though! Blond or brown hair? Brown. Idk, I just don’t know a lot of people who are blonde. Red or black? I like both, but I like black slightly more. Blue or green eyes? Green. Having fun or being asleep? Having fuuuun. Carnival or park? Park. I can’t go on rides anyway, so a nice stroll and picnic at the park sounds lovely to me. -Favorites- Favorite thing to buy? Uh food, I guess? I’m super easy to please lol. What do your favorite pair of socks look like? My bacon and eggs one. Kind of tea/coffee? Iced tea/iced caramel macchiato. Way of communication? Face-to-face with Gab, instant messenger/text for everyone else. Time to sleep in to? Midnight is most convenient for me. Band to dance to? PARAMORE. Also helps that their music has turned dance-y too. Favorite gum? Don’t really have one. I’ll chew on any kind/flavor of gum. Type of cereal? Cookie Crisps. Color of hoodie? I don’t mind color, as long as the hoodie is comfortable and keeps me warm. Spice? Cumin smells lovely. Favorite thing to touch/feel? Dogs. Website? Probably Twitter. I’ve been on it the longest and still have no reason to be tired of it. Person in your life? My girlfriend...but also my dogs, if they can count. -Would you Rather- Hire one of your friends, or fire an enemy? Hire one of my friends, as long as they work well without me. Firing an enemy seems a little bit more unprofessional, especially if they objectively perform well. Be a contestant on American Idol or America's Got Talent? I’d go with AGT I guess? I’ve watched some snippets of the show and their judges seem more nice, whereas on American Idol the judges tend to laugh or embarrass you if you do badly. Live in Britain or Australia? Australia. I feel like it’s a more Filipino-friendly country, not that Britain isn’t but yeah. Travel by plane or helicopter? Plane. Aren’t helicopters loud? I think I’d be more relaxed in an airplane. Trade places with a male or a female for a day? I’d rather remain a woman, thanks. Shop at Wal-Mart or Target? I don’t know. I’m honestly curious though – for the Americans survey-takers, what’s the difference between them and what do y’all prefer? Hahaha Read Shakespeare or Artistotle's work? I internally winced at both lol but when it comes down to it, Shakespeare. I do like his work, as long as I’m reading a modern English version. I hate philosophy straight up, so that’s a definite no on Aristotle. Have a regular donut or donut holes? Regular donut. Spell better or smell better? Smell. I can already spell well. Rather be in a tornado or a large earthquake? This is horrible, no one ever *wants* to be stuck in a natural calamity. 80's or 90's music? I like the 80s sound better. Eat a plain peanut butter sandwich or PB & J? Peanut butter sandwich. I tried PB&J before to see what the hype was about, and it just didn’t work for my Asian tastebuds. Wear a uniform every day or go half-naked? Wear a uniform. I wore one in Catholic school for 14 years and survived, so it’d just be the same thing. Would you rather Santa or the Easter Bunny actually exist? Santa. I’m more familiar with him. The Easter Bunny’s not really a part of our culture so I don’t actually know what it’s supposed to do. Apple pie or Pizza pie? Pizzaaaaa. Y’all should know me by now haha. Spend an afternoon cleaning or clean things later? I’d rather work early so I can be satisfied earlier. Flying or X-Ray vision? Flying. Dentist or Doctor? I guess dentist? There’s fewer reasons to be scared when you go to the dentist because the health problems are just limited to your mouth, I guess. Would you rather spread gossip or start a fight? Both sound awful. I’m never one to start a fight and I never initiate gossip myself, though I do take part in it sometimes. Get rid of your favorite shoes or your favorite pants? Pants. I love my shoes. Visit Florida or New York? New York. Myspace or Facebook (or do they both suck)? Facebook. It sucks, but at least the memes there are hilarious as fuck.

#survey #surveys

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adecila · 5 years

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Game of Thrones – A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms - 8x02 episode analysis (kind of)

…or the episode we should have gotten last week.

And we’re back! I am not here to shit on last week’s episode I actually enjoyed it very much, if you just take it for what it was, but! I cannot help but remark how much better episode 2 has been to us… the writing was very very good and rich, and in character, and it finally feels like GoT and… I honestly don’t know what happened in episode 1. But moving on…

As you can already tell, this is going to my personal summary, thoughts and analysis of episode 02 of season 8. Going to put it all under a cut – spoilers, you have been warned.

Are you an Oathkeeper or on Oathbreaker? Or the Jaime Fucking Lannister Fest

Listen I am not calling this a trial, because it is not. Yes I know they call it a trial in the BTS and Inside the episode.

Dany’s speech about Jaime’s deeds against House Targaryen is very good. As I have mentioned in my preview analysis, this is the first time (third time is a charm ha) that Jaime and Dany speak to one another. She doesn’t know this man. This man tried to kill her and he killed her father.

I got right half of the stuff at least, for what it’s worth. Tyrion looks soooo sooo bad. LIKE YOU KNEW YOUR SISTER? Oh the glare!!! If looks could kill, Tyrion would be dust. LiStEn, Tyrion, honey. Sit down. Jeez, read the room, you are not making it better. Dany is right - why should she trust this man? And Sansa is right there with her… until Brienne speaks.

Gwen called Brienne’s speech something “almost like a declaration of love” and I think that is so beautiful it hurts. Not a Braime fan, but hey you got fed fam, I am happy for you! I already mentioned in my live blogging that it was either incoherent or just plain retcon to forget that Sansa sent Brienne to KL because she thought Brienne would kill her if it meant a showdown with Arya. But I digress.

I find it very interesting how Jaime didn’t apologise and his cojones to say so because “we were at war” - and I get it, my dude, Ser Hot Stuff, we all know all is fair in love and war, but I guess it would be ooc for him to apologise. Great delivery, I don’t particularly like NCW but this scene? Top notch. I rate it one doggy style fuck out of one, but so good your legs are wobbly and you can barely find the energy to plop on your bed afterwards.

The things we do for love… and Bran is back with the fucking shit stirring drama. We stan Bran Starkashian.

I find it interesting since this is also Dany’s chance to show how she rules - Lady Sansa says her opinion, which surprises Dany. Then she turns to Jon, who the entire time has been very very quiet. Like the kind of quiet you are when you have the biggest hangover and you are stuck in class and you just want it to be over with. So Jon says what he could say to get the fuck out of there. “We need every man we can get.” So Jaime is given his sword back after Grey Worm literally gives him the I AM WATCHING YOU BITCH glare.

But Jon’s chair is not facing forward, it is slightly oriented towards Dany’s. Notice how he doesn’t look at her, even when she addresses him directly. She gets up and everyone does so afterwards FINALLY SOME FUCKING RESPECT and she turns to Jon… and he doesn’t even look at her… and my baby looks heartbroken because he just ignores her *coughs* As soon as the meeting ended, he rushed out, not giving her a chance to say a word. *coughs*

In defence of Jon… Know what, we’ll talk about Jon later, when we get to the reveal.

Oh and Bran totes doesn’t care about Jaime enough to expose him in front of the entire Great Hall. Because ya know, he is a drama queen, but he keeps his cards close, he either already has a plan for Jaime or as he said, and as I have predicted from the preview, it serves no purpose to expose Jaime for what he did to Bran. Like just click on it and read it. Good that Bran called him out on his apology naaah bitch you don’t get to go holier than thou here. It is what it is.

Me at Bran this episode:

Jaime and Tyrion’s conversation is very interesting, not only about Dany in general whether she is worthy or not, and Tyrion seems to be team Dany. Was it just me or Tyrion more like whispered the part where he talks about Cersei’s baby. Also also listen Jaime, unless you’re suddenly a gynaecologist how the fuck do you know she is not lying? I loved how Tyrion called Jaime out on the fact that he loved Cersei despite knowing full well what and who she was. Dude let’s call it what it was. Don’t play coy now.

Ding ding ding Tyrion mentions marching to KL and killing Cersei … and that’s all I am gonna say about it.

Jaime x Brienne wow this ship is getting so fed - enjoy babies ! And I loved how Brienne was suddenly WHY ARENT YOU INSULTING ME I DONT KNOW HOW TO INTERACT TO YOU !!!! Brienne is leading the left flank and Jaime wants to be led by her. Keep in mind for next week’s episode! I am so proud of my son Pod, I am basically proudmom!Brienne tbh.

The episode in which Dany gets a lot of counsel - because that’s also the type of ruler she is

Tyrion x Varys x Jorah vs Dany - Dany gives the best scolding ever tbh. Moms, take notes, because look at Tyrion’s face. He knows this Christmas when the NK comes he will only get coal. No whores and wine for Tyrion. He was naughty boy.

KHALESSI - Listen. I don’t like Jorah in the books, and my impression of show!Jorah has always been tainted by it. But this Jorah is redeemed and deserves to live I WILL RIOT IF HE DIES. The scene he has with Dany is one of my favourites because it just shows how much history they have together. I will sob if he dies because he is the only one left from S1E01 with her. Jorah tells her to forgive Tyrion and seek out S.ansa to smooth things over. MY BEAR

S.ansa x Daenerys - First time I thought it was going well, they were bonding… and then S.ansa leaned forward and the hand placing seemed a bit too deliberate to me, too Margaery. What I am trying to say is that it is very hard to know if S.ansa is being genuine. It is a very good scene and it holds a lot of importance later on, more on that when I talk about the reveal in the last scene (and I this is what I wanted from episode 1 - cold but courteous.)

S.ansa tells Dany Jon loves her and that “men do stupid things for the women they love, they’re easily manipulated” - which, fair point; she saw Cersei and Margaery do it. Buuuut she also had the counter-argument: she saw how Littlefinger manipulated her aunt. So it goes both ways, bby.

“All my life I have known one goal: the Iron Throne […] until I met Jon

INTERRUPTING THIS PROGRAMME TO FLAIL BECAUSE HOLY SHIT WE FINALLY HEAR DANY CALL HIM “JON” ON SCREEN YES YES FUCKING FINALLY THANK YOU BABY JESUS AND MARY AND THE ENTIRE TEAM OF 12 APOSTLES

“Now I am here, half a world away, fighting Jon’s war alongside him. Tell me, who manipulated whom?” - I love how Dany turns the tables here, because she is right; if Dany was manipulating Jon, then how come she is the one here, fighting with all her men and resources and dragons? Who gains from this more? SEE S.ANSA IT MAKES NO FUCKING SENSE IF YOU WOULD HAVE BEEN-

FINALLY SOME GOOD FUCKING CONTENT.

Then S.ansa goes for that smile ugh and agaaaain I am having soooo much trouble taking it for genuine.

“I am here because I love your brother and I trust him and I know he is true to his word […]” I AM DEAD DEAD DEAD

And then it goes to shite because S.ansa is now clearly drawing inspiration from Theresa fucking May since she has no fucking skills to bring up Brexit - is it Nexit? Dany retreating her hands tho - she feels played LIKE REALLY BITCH I WAS SPEAKING FROM MY HEART AND YOU WERE JUST BUYING TIME HERE.

Theonsa everywhere - or the ship you never thought would happen in this show yet you can’t help but ship it

That hug!!!! Wow I loved it!!! Sophie and Alfie killed it. Also watch Dany in the background - my baby!!! Do you know how hard it is being around people with big families when you’re… alone? It’s fucking depressing, and I just want to hug Dany and carry her to safety.

We got 3 Theonsa moments (and one was a Jonerys parallel so you know the romantic undertones are strong) in this episode soooo yeah! Enjoy! I am afraid they are setting Theon up to die, especially since it would be poetic cinema.jpeg for him to die defending Bran after he took WF from him.

Also also feels like book!Theon and show!Theon are colliding again.

The Merry Men and the Night’s Watch leftovers ; and Ghost for 3 seconds - you’re welcome ; the Hound and Beric; Missandei and Grey Worm

Tormund calling Jon “little crow” was fucking everything! did you catch Jon’s smile??? Precious baby!!! And then asking about Brienne!!!! But did you catch Jon’s face when he saw Sam was also there - like ugh you again - BYE

Missandei x Grey - one of them is totally dead BYE I AM GONNA FLUNG MYSELF OUT THE WINDOW

Sam x Jon on the battlements - ugh Sam really you are looking soooooo bad right now. Jon’s face is again precious. He is so over Sam atm and he is just like WHEN WILL THE NK COME FOR ME BECAUSE IF I HAVE TO STAY ONE MORE SECOND WITH THIS BITCH ISTG– Then I got emo when Edd came up. Damn. Watch Edd die too… I feel it in mah bones. That’s how the last of the NW dies.

Arya x The Hound - I get soooo many dad feels from the Hound tbh and I love it. My guess the Hound makes it. Beric tho??? hmmm Idk about that.

Tormund is fucking insane and I love him

THE BRIENNE KNIGHTING WAS EVERYTHING AND I CANT EVEN LOOK AT THE GIFS WITHOUT SOBBING MAH HEART - also!!! Dunk and Egg reference - Brienne parallel?? And the title of the episode! ugh Summerhall references? BRIENNE DO NOT DIE

Sam gives Jorah Heartsbane - Good. It’s what Jorah deserves. *pushes Sam out of the shot*

Pod singing Jenny’s Song is tearing me apart and making me sob harder I FUCKING LOST IT AND I AM STILL GETTING CHILLS YALL THIS WAS FUN. SEEMS EVERYONE DIES. No, I jest. But I love how they paired up the couples for a tragic love song - Brienne x Jaime, Sam x Gilly, S.ansa x Theon, Arya x Gendry, Missandei x Greyworm, Jon x Dany. I wouldn’t look too much into the song choice tbh, since in Inside the episode they say they knew they wanted a song and they just picked this one and added more verses since it was incomplete. I know this is the second Summerhall reference, but ya know, I personally wouldn’t look too much into it. Edit: I should have never trusted D&D - now go read these amazing posts made by @tomakeitbeautifultolive in which she explains the song and the significance for Jonerys. Also Ramin Djawadi spoke about the song and fed our fandom just today (April 25th).

The War Council or let’s gather around Bran Starkashian so he can spill some tea on the NK

Plan sounds basic imo, not that I had expected much about that, but in Miguel we trust and we know he will absolutely crash this battle in episode 3.

Interesting how the casually dropped that apparently the NK’s goal is to destroy Bran. And the mention of the mark - so now basically Bran is chipped. Cool beans. Sam’s remark about “death is forgetting, being forgotten is very interesting. Memories don’t come from books, your stories aren’t just stories.” - interesting take here. I Sam writing the book about Jonerys? If so I am afraid he has A FUCKING BIAS OMG I AM GETTING HEATED AGAIN. Also my friend @iane-casey was totally annoyed how much screen time Sam got which honestly same dude I am still pissed at you *joins Jon to brood and glare at Sam*

Dany publicly makes a point in that she still needs Tyrion aka he is forgiven so that there is no bad blood between them.

Lmao my friend @zavocado says we should totes just tape Bran to Drogon’s belly and lure the NK away from WF *grabs the duct-tape*

FINALLY A MAP: listen, they are outnumbered as fuuuuck… besides that it is clear that Dany’s forces will get the most hit since they are in the vanguard, Birenne on the left with the Knights of the Vale and some Stark forces, on the right we get the rest of the North, and the Mormonts are inside the gates!

Jon walks on Dany a second time - Dany stops as the room clears out (Qhono and Jorah and Varys behind her), looks expectandly at Jon, he doesn’t look at her (MY BABY BOY HE LOOKS SO ROUGH DID HE EVEN SLEEP?), falters “Your Grace”, and bolts. She falters, her face is all WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING and she clears the room too. More on that at the end.

Gendrya or the OTP you did not know you need and why you fucking need it

First of all, this fandom is so pure. I loooooved all the Gendrya on my dash from episode 1 and then this episode I got flooded and I am here for it bitch. Give me all the feels.

I cannot wait to see Arya with her new weapon!!!

GENDRY IS SO SHOOKETH BY ARYA AND I LOVED THAT SHE TOPPED HIM

I HAVE A SON YOU HAVE A DAUGHTER LET’S JOIN OUR HOUSES

The gendrya - jonerys parallels??? EVERYTHING JUST WOW

Jonerys parentage reveal 2.0 or the reveal Jon also deserved not the travesty he got

I will do a play by play of the scene, but first. Why does Jon avoid Dany? Simple. He is hurting. Since we get the Jaime vs Bran stare down and then we get the Jaime trial, it is safe to assume that happens the morning after Sam blurted the truth to Jon about his mom and dad.

So at Jaime’s fake trial, Jon had what? A few hours at best to process everything - and by that I mean: Dany is his aunt; Ned lied to him his entire life (no matter the reason, Jon has been raised a certain way and to hear the man who was so honourable was capable of the biggest lie in the realm… das huge! so this is shocking his entire moral compass and belief system built upon the education his dad gave him); his dad actually loved his mom and married her so he is no longer a bastard - ya know aka the thing that affected his entire life and the thing he wanted most; his mom died giving birth to him and she managed to think of him in her last moments, enough to make Ned promise her he will take care of her son; the fact that if Robert even caught a whiff of it, he would have been dead. SO that is a LOT LOT.

Which explains why Jon was so out of it when he is asked about Jaime. Also explains why he bolts out of the room without looking at Dany - I think if he had even so much as looked at her he would have broken down. He isn’t ready for it.

Oh the stuff I mentioned he had to come to terms with? On top of all of it we must add the stress of finding a way of telling all of this to Dany in a way that he doesn’t hurt her. Also I bet your ass he thought there was a chance she may not believe him (he himself did not in the beginning)… and a chance she may think he wants the throne since Sam drilled this into his head so now he is afraid of that too.

So when Jon is in the war room he had what? around 12 hours in total since Sam told him? 15? 20? Do you think that’s enough? Because I don’t. But this time he is doing much better. So he is still not looking at Dany, but he addressed her “Your Grace” and leaves - which means he is already in a better place than where he was in the morning, but not quite there yet.

This is good angst. We should rejoice, it will hurt before it gets better.

Moving on. Why didn’t he just directly go to Dany? I honestly don’t think it’s in Jon’s character to seek out comfort. This is a kid who had no one to go to when he would hurt himself. That shit stays with you. You don’t just flip a switch and start seeking out your other half. No, in moments of stress the brain reverts to things it knows bets, to muscle memory and old habits; it uses the energy to overthink itself to death so ain’t nobody got time for that new behaviours shit. At this point jonerys have been together for how long? 3? 4 weeks? That’s not that much. They are used to each other, but not enough to break old habits and past traumas.

Now, the reveal:

Dany stops, silently asking permission before she approaches Jon. Poor bean must be a bit hurt that he avoided her twice, so better make sure he actually wants her company. Jon actually smiles at her, even if it is a sad smile. It kills me how he is just staring at him mom’s statue. KILLS ME. Only then, she approaches him (look at her face, brief relief!). She stops next to him, he turns to her and nods, and only THEN SHE EMBRACES HIS SIDE, HOLDING HIS HANDS, CHIN TO HIS SHOULDER.

“Who is that?”

“Lyanna Stark.” Jon eventually says

Dany looks a bit like oh… shit, again my family yikes… I would say she looks apologetic. “My brother Rhaegar, everyone told me he was decent and kind. He liked to sing. Gave money to poor children. And he raped her” - ok but this is big, because Dany just in S7 recognised her own rape… So no wonder her opinion on Rhaegar is not that good atm.

“He didn’t”

Dany looks shook, but she is still holding onto Jon. Notice how his hand is on hers?

“He loved her.”

She doesn’t interrupt. Jon almost looks like he is feeling brave, so he keeps her hand into his and turns to face her.

“They were married in secret. After Rhaegar fell on the Trident, she had a son. Robert would have murdered the baby if he ever found out and Lyanna knew it.”

Dany is surpised, but so far so good. Jon stares into her eyes.

“So the last thing she did as she bled to death on her birthing bed was give the boy to her brother” – camera on Emilia — oh shit for a split second it starts to show that she is putting two and two together – “Ned Stark” – her eyes widen and she blinks – “to raise as his bastard” – she exhales, breathing accelerates – “My name,” – breathing heavily on her part – “my real name” -- she looks incredulous and nods a smal no – “is Aegon Targaryen” – she blinks, exhales, puls away her hand and turn halfway away from Jon.

She looks away, then at him, he is almost leaning over her but still too far. “That’s impossible.”

Camera on Jonerys

“I wish it were.” (SEE THIS IS WHAT I AM SAYING MY POOR SON)

“Who told you this?”

“Bran. He was it.”

“He SAW it?” She sound clipped, the ARE YOU KIDDING ME tone clipped

“And Samwell confirmed it.”He read about their marriage at the CItadel” – camera on Emilia —”without even knowing what it meant” (OK BUT FUCK OFF SAM GILLY READ THAT) - Dany’s face her, she is clearly restraining herself because this sounds insane.

“A secret no one in the world knew, except your brother and your best friend, doesn’t seem strange to you?” she shakes her head and it breaks my heart how you can see the wheels turning in her head going fuck here we go again, I laid my heart bare and that’s it. Yet another betrayal.

Camera on Kit. He looks at her, takes a step forward “It’s true, Dany.” – camera on Emilia – “I know it is.” (UM HELLO DANY I AM HYPERVENTILATING BITCH)

Dany shakes her head, her face looks full with distrust. Then it goes to despair - her voice shaky “If it were true, it would make you the last male heir of the House Targaryen.” – camera on Kit HE FUCKING FROWNS LIKE WHAT – camera on Emilia – “You’d have a claim to the Iron Throne” – camera on Kit and his face goes again WHA—

THEN THE FUCKING HORN SOUNDS. Jon turns his head towards the door, but Dany keeps staring at him and she looks heartbroken.

They go out and it’s all business. He nods to her and she leaves. Interesting though - she comes out first. Jon turned back towards the sound so if they were just running out he should have come out first. Either he remembered to be courteous or there is another small exchange we didn’t get to see. Or maybe I am reading way into things and it was a lame ass decision hahah.

Ok so the reveal to Dany - you better fucking take notes Sam cuz this is how you do a reveal: being calm, level headed, explaining to the person as much as you can, answering questions.

On Dany’s reaction: my friend @oadara said it so so well in this post here. So, building on that, we need to put her reaction in context, just like I did with Jon’s cold shoulder. Dany’s discussion with S.asnsa is fresh in her mind, not just the part about who is manipulating whom, and that must drive her nuts now, but also the part in which S.asnsa did a 180 on her just when she thought she was making progress, so feeling like she was being manipulated. One of course must start asking questions. Has Jon just found out? Has he always known? Did he seduce her to take her armies and her dragons her her throne?? Moreover, Dany specifically tells S.ansa that her only goal in life has been the Iron Throne. Imagine that - having one goal in life, and suddenly someone comes in and can just rip it all away from you, poof just like that, they just need to say the word. Moreover, males have preference… and so many would rather follow a male than a female. And that’s a fact.

Moreover… she still thinks herself barren…

Like I am not saying Dany suddenly hates Jon or will cast him away (ok maybe she will initially I have a prediction/theory I will explain in a different post). I am saying… JUST GIVE DANY TIME. She just found out and now she gotta go save everyone’s ass. Let the girl breathe.

I was asking myself but why would Jon tell her now? If he himself wishes she had never known? I think it may be a very Ned Stark thing - he genuinely thinks he will fall, and he wanted to tell her the truth, because Rhaegar Targaryen may be his dad but Ned Stark is his daddy.

What do you think? As always, dms and asks are open!

Will make a preview post and another about my jonerys theory.

All in all, this episode was incredible and I loved it. I am so not ready for the fight fuuuuuuuuuuuu-

#got spoilers #got spoilers 8x02 #got 8x02 summary #jonerys #jonerys meta #r+l=j #got meta #game of thrones #my analysis

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madammuffins · 5 years

Text

Fairy Summers

Fairy Summers is a short story request by @vhum for my 300 follower celebration.

It is a World of Make Believe AU featuring Chelsea x Puck told over a series of summers as they age together and maneuver through life’s struggles, fantastical and mortal.

I will be uploading in parts just for easier reading. Also, playlist.

CW: Contains coming-of-age themes, familial abuse situations.

~*~*~*~*

Part 1 ♣ Part 2

~*~*~*~*

Part 3 is a Montana Summer, Chelsea is now 9 and we see her family situation evolving as well as her relationship with Puck

~*~*~*~*

"I don't hate you, Mom." Brown eyes dropped to muck covered mud boots. "I know it's not your fault we're out here, and I know the family will understand." She rolled her shoulders to try and ease the ache, shuddered when the rake knocked against her leg leaving a wet brown mark against her pale skin.

"Oh good. Good, Chellers." Susan pushed a strand of dark hair that had fallen from Chelsea's ponytail back behind her ear. "I had worried you'd be mad about not being able to... you know, see everyone this year. I am just so glad you've learned from your earlier tantrums that those kind of outrageous-"

"I was just upset, Mom." Chelsea's eyes dropped to the hand that was still clenched around her arm. She wondered, briefly, if she'd have bruises.

It didn't matter out here on the farm though. The farm she couldn't ever leave now. The farm she was trapped in. The farm she was indentured to. The farm she'd be held prisoner in. Between the pigs and horses and cows and fence mending and irrigation repair no one would notice a few more fingerprint bruises on her arms or welts on her legs. No one could hear her crying to the chickens when she collected eggs out here either. Or the tadpoles in the river out on the East side.

A hell and a haven.

"I can understand that." Susan released her grip. "Perhaps we had spoiled you taking you to the island so much. Every year, every summer? Such an expensive trip for such a small child."

Chelsea kicked at the gravel beneath her, leaning on the rake now. The sun beat on the back of her head and neck uncomfortably. "When I finish the chicken coop can I walk down to the c-"

"You are too young to go to the store by yourself."

"Mom-" Chelsea stopped at the glare.

A quick snap of Susan's head, the chill radiating off her body. The frigid square of her posture; shoulders up, eyes widened, fists clenched, jaw set, legs spread.

"I. Said. No."

Chelsea nodded, eyes down, shoulders hunched. "Okay. Right, sorry. I shouldn’t have-"

"Why would you push me like that when your grandfather has just passed away? Why would you even try to-" Susan's body withered, hands tangling in her bun. "Why would you do this to me? You're supposed to be a good girl. I took you in because your parents died, nobody else wanted you and this is how you repay me?" The sorrow burned away with every word, anger fueling the older woman. "You know what, you can go one ahead and muck the horse stalls now."

"What?" Chelsea dropped the rake. "But that's Max's-"

"You wanna talk back, ungrateful child?" Susan smiled, cool and collected now, “you can polish the tack too while you're at it." She paused, hand on a cocked hip, the other cupped her ear as she tilted towards her ward. "Oh, what's this? No more smack talk? Nothing to say keiki? That's what I thought." Susan turned away. "Get it done before dinner." She crooned over her shoulder, "Or you don't get to eat tonight."

“Yes, Mom.” Chelsea bit the inside of her cheek clean through, tooth meeting tooth through the flesh.

She turned on a swift heel, spitting blood into the dirt as she spread new hay out on the coop floor, billowing her shirt off her back as she crouched down and backed out of the small wood enclosure. The hens screamed at her, pecking her bare legs. The two roosters paraded, watching with careful disdain. She eyed them but they didn’t hold her worry. The fuzzy legged brown and black zebra striped hen did. A vicious laying feather duster to-be who’d taken to crowing and eating any of the unfertilized eggs.

Easily the most vicious of the bunch. Chelsea had a few scars on her calves and hands to show it.

Latching the door she stored the plastic rake, grabbing the wheelbarrow, shovel, and metal forked rake instead. Horse stalls required heavier equipment. She paused at the cows watering trough midway, taking a handful of water and splashing the top of her head, dunking her hat, letting the water douse her shirt and shoulders. Dribbles fell soothingly under the fabric and trickled to her jean shorts, soaking into the denim, offering some form of relief she knew would become muggy and stuffy.

Soft nickering greeted her as she positioned her wheelbarrow, carefully setting it aside as she grabbed the hanging lead ropes and twisted them into makeshift halters. The horses were easy enough to grab with the right kind of manipulations. With a smile she leapt up onto the tack trunk and stretched back behind the grain shelf to where she hid the sugar cubes. A sharp smack at her backside made her yelp, lose her balance, fall hard on the ground, elbow hitting the metal body of the wheelbarrow.

"Max." She ground between clenched teeth, peering up at her brother.

The jerk laughed with his pubescent cronies. "Mom told me you got in trouble today. Don't know how something so small has such a big, smart mouth."

"Whatever." Chelsea wiped off her butt, wincing as her elbow popped.

"What were you reaching for back there anyway, idiot?"

"Mind your own business, stupid." She hissed. "Just let me muck the stalls alone." Her eyes drifted back to her secret stash.

Later. She promised the roan gelding as his muzzle roamed over her t-shirt and shorts snuffling for his treat. When Max isn't around, when I'm done. She looped the halter over his ears and nose, letting the big beast follow her past the boys, using the giant red flecked animal as a barrier.

"This is boring." One of the boys yawned. "Let's go to the store."

"Yeah." Another piped up. "She's just a baby, no fun to pick on and no fun to watch."

"Alright." Max shrugged, picking up his bike from where he dropped it. "Let's go."

Chelsea watched the boys speed off as she latched the gate, something ugly that had been bubbling in her stomach calming as the distance grew. A big head shoved against her.

"Alright, Tory." She laughed, pushing him through the cry of her aching elbow. "Lemme get the others."

"No need for that, Country Girl."

Chelsea didn't bother hiding her joy, flinging herself into the noticeably taller fae, tangling her arms around Puck; knocking them back into warm, dusty fur.

"You came!" She pushed at the Chestnut mare holding the both of them up, rubbing her withers in apology. "I didn't know if you would and-"

"I promised." His voice was sincere, the laugh that danced in the words still present. He pushed her away, "Why are you crying?"

"It's been awful." Chelsea admitted, following him out to the corral where he let the mare loose. "Ever since Grandpa died Mom's been just... so much worse. And..." She swallowed hard. "Max too?" She blinked, "Dad's the only one who is nice to me anymore. Sometimes it feel like we're trapped here together. He's not healthy anymore either. It's his heart and cholesemal. He's gotten a lot bigger." She held her hands out at her sides to demonstrate.

Puck frowned, "What do you mean Max? What's he doing?" He watched as Chelsea looped the halter over the last horses head, stifling a hiss at the swayback and hobbling gait.

"Oh, don't mind ol' Gremlin." Chelsea pat the greying face fondly. "He used to be a race horse till he went lame. Rode him too hard Grandpa said. He was up for the butchers block to be dog food but Grandpa had a soft spot. Mom doesn't like the dead weight but he's in good shape considering."

"That's cool." Puck jumped down to follow her out into the sun, "Max?"

Chelsea tsked. "He's just... touching me a lot more? Like today he..." She blushed, "He spanked me in front of his friends." She growled. "I really don't want to talk about-"

"Put this under his mattress." Puck shoved a thorn into her hand, glaring into her eyes. "If he does anything like that again this will poke him throughout the night until he repents. If he continues it will get worse until it draws blood and spreads across his body like a rash."

"Puck!" Chelsea gasped, "I can't do that!"

"You aren't." He snapped his fingers, "I am. Now, let's go play. The chores are done, I wanna show you some stuff. Montana is great! There are things here that I haven't seen in a while!"

~*~*~*~*~

"So that's an Alven!" Puck leaned in close, pants rolled up above his knees.

"Where?" Chelsea leaned back on her knees, eyes scanning the running stream frantically. "I don't-"

Puck's hand landed roughly on the top of her head, "Do you see that bubble floating on the surface?" He guided her vision. "Right there, inside of it, the barely there thing? You can just see it when the light hits just like- That! Yeah!"

"I see it!" Chelsea gasped, "It's so pretty!"

"Eh, you're prettier." Puck grinned toothy and sharp at her blush. "Sometimes they wear Otter skins to stay hidden. Maybe beaver skins here in the North like this, I don't know if you guys have otters."

"Oh, I don't know either." Chelsea frowned as she climbed the rivers bank back to their sandwiches and snacks.

"Anyway, if you're really nice to them they'll help you with protection and healing. They like to dance at night." Puck took a bite of his fruit. "Fish eat them though."

"That's not cool." Chelsea managed between swallows. "Why do they live in the water if they'll be eaten?"

"They'd dry up on land. You saw it. Just a wispy invisible thing." Puck waved his hand. "Not a thing of substance. They need the night and the moon and the water like you need your soda and oxygen." He swallowed rough, "Anyway. I'll see you tomorrow. It's about time for your mom to start hollering for dinner."

Chelsea nodded, gathering her food and handing it to the fae. "See you tomorrow, same time?"

"Same time." He winked, then blinked out of sight.

~*~*~*~

"No." Chelsea crouched further down, ignoring the creeping coolness of water over the butt of her shorts, "You gotta get further down. You can't tell me you've never caught frogs?"

"Not like this!" Puck grumbled. "I just have to ask back where I'm from. It's different. The things out here are so much less... compliant."

"Compliant." Chelsea snorted. "Now that's a word."

"Just because I'm smart-"

"Yeah, a smart-ass."

"You can't say grown up words!" Puck toppled into the stream, sending the frogs scattering.

"Oh man." Chelsea groaned, falling back with her friend, laying down in the water. "There goes the lesson. Now what?"

"Well, we could have a new lesson." Puck sat up, dripping to look over the pasture to the horses. "Teach me to ride them like you do."

"My mom will see you if I do that." Chelsea's eyes widened.

"I can make it so she doesn't." He promised. "I can make a lot of things happen that she doesn't have to notice."

Chelsea frowned for a moment, pulling a rock out from the bottom of the riverbed and cleaning it before putting it back. "Like you do with my chores?"

"Like I do with your chores. Hey, by the way, did you do what I said with that thorn?"

She blinked, fingers busying themselves with the hem of her shorts, "Alright, I'll teach you to ride the horse."

Chelsea laughed as the fae leapt up with a shout, "The curved back one?"

"Gremlin isn't fit to ride." Chelsea pointed out. "But Tory is. He's big, but he's a nice boy."

"Ahh, the black brown one was my second choice." Puck stuck his lips out in a pout but followed as Chelsea approached the red roan.

"Free's too stubborn for a new rider. Especially bareback."

"You're the expert I guess." The fae shrugged, then grinned as he rubbed his hands over the roans dusty coat. "Man he smells so good."

"I'm glad you think so." Chelsea ran her fingers over Tory's neck to his face. "Now, blow into his nose really slow."

"Uh... What?"

~*~*~*~

Chelsea let out a shuddering breath. "I really shouldn't be here, Puck." Her grip tightened around his fingers.

"I mean, it's just a corner store." Puck snorted, pushing the door open, gaze darting to the bell that chimed their entrance.

"Mom said-"

"She won't know, and what she doesn't know won't hurt her." He pulled the human down the candy isle. "Let's grab stuff, my mortal. I've got cash- real cash." He cut Chelsea's protest off.

Chelsea frowned, watching her dark haired companion load his arms with goodies. Convincing herself. Because Mom didn't know, did she? She didn't know Chelsea wasn't working on the irrigation. She didn't know Chelsea wasn't on the farm.

She didn't know.

Puck turned a corner, returning with large sodas and a wry grin. Chelsea smiled, fingers snaking around a Whatchamacallit. She could do this. She could be a kid, she could enjoy this wild abandon at least once.

~*~*~*~

The cemetery maybe was a weird place to meet. Puck had suggested it and Chelsea didn't have any second thoughts about flying there on her bike as fast as she could. But wandering the tombstones, the air holding a chill that promised Fall was approaching, it whispered of scarier things.

In the back of her mind she couldn't shake Puck's warning; the creatures out here are wilder. Chelsea rubbed her arms against the chicken skin that washed over her.

"Oi, Chelsea." The fae waved as he created the incline. "Why are you wandering way-"

"Are there ghosts?" Chelsea sat on the edge of a burial plot. "Do human spirits linger?"

Puck blanched, his grip on their snacks tightened. "Y- you know. I don't know." He sat beside her, at a distance. "I don't deal with that, it's not what our family does."

"Do you think..." Her voice dropped deep, "do you think my parents-? Back on the Island there are stories about-" She sucked in a breath. “It was a car accident. Mom says no one wanted me, but I know they did. She took me to court. She sued the family, the whole family, to have me. My real mom and dad had a living will, it just wasn’t legally recognized. It didn’t have the right signatures.” Chelsea wiped at a stray tear. “They died in a car accident that I was in. Why did I-”

Watery eyes turned to the horizon, ignoring the way her young friend watched her, scrutinizing. He breathed deep, setting the food down. Chelsea leaned into him as he pressed his body against her, his arm looping around her shoulder, her head falling to the crook of his neck. Slender fingers rubbed against sun warmed skin as her shoulders shook in quiet cries; a trick learned from harsh scoldings and long, lonely nights.

"I don't know about your parents. I don't know about ghosts." He whispered under the protective tree, old and exuding a peaceful kind of magic. "I know your parents must have been great people and I'm sorry you lost them."

Chelsea sniffled, "Why are you even here?"

The words were cold and curt, cutting Puck quick. "Because you're my friend."

"I'm just a stupid mortal." He winced physically at his own word being used against him. "I'll die just like they did one day."

"I love you." Pucks grip tightened, the words rushing out of him with vehemence. "I'm never leaving you. One day I’m going to marry you."

"You can't."

"And why?" He leapt up, defiant to the tips of his hair. “Fae do it all the time, stealing away people and keeping them.”

"I'm too young." She leaned back to watch him, wary and guarded.

"When you're older then." Green eyes rolled.

"What if I have a boyfriend?" A smile touched the corners of her mouth.

"I'll beat him up." The fae crouched, looking into Chelsea's face all youthful earnest and baby innocence. "I'll marry you. I love you. I'll punch anyone who tries to take you from me. I’ll take you away from this one day, and keep you and we can dance every night like my parents do and I’ll take you flying when I’m stronger and introduce you to all kinds of different fairy creatures. If you want to?"

Chelsea tilted her head, staring long into those emerald depths until she nodded.

The wind carried away her whispered "Okay."

~*~*~*~*

Tag List: @vhum @thelastoftheflyinggraysons @nemothesurvivor

#womb1 au #puck x chelsea #300 follower celebration #fairy summers #modern fantasy #urban fantasy #wip #short story #modern fairy tale #violetvineyard #world of make believe au #writeblr #my writing #amwriting

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nobodysuspectsthebutterfly · 6 years

Note

Are you ever disappointed when any of your speculations turned headcanon turn out to be wrong?

Sure, sometimes, why not? If you’ve invested a lot of thought in something, then it being revealed to be otherwise would surely be disappointing. Though it hasn’t happened very often to me because I read the books too quickly to form strong speculation/headcanons, I wasn’t speculating that much between AFFC and ADWD due to not being part of the fandom at the time, and not that much has come out spec-wise since ADWD. I was disappointed when Marwyn didn’t make it to Dany in ADWD, that I can recall, though I later realized between timelines and distance of course he couldn’t get to her yet. And I was a bit disappointed by the lack of Sansa in ADWD, though what was there was delicious.

And since ADWD… hmm, probably the biggest blowup was the “Benjen isn’t Coldhands” thing, though that was less disappointing so much as annoying and confusing. (Confusing enough that GoT evidently didn’t care.) Regarding reveals from TWOW preview chapters and interviews, there was really very little that showed a headcanon wrong? I was right about my speculation re Arya and Raff, right about ravens being primarily one-way only, right about Jon being a fire wight, and the Forsaken hasn’t quite confirmed my theory about Hizdahr and the HotU prophecies but it did make it much stronger. (That chapter also showed I was right to think the theories about Euron following Victarion to Meereen were nuts, among other things, so hah.) Also the one spec of mine a preview chapter showed to be wrong, I was actually glad to be wrong about. (Sansa’s chapter not having Sweetrobin dying from sweetsleep poisoning right away, though I still think it’ll be an issue eventually.) And while the show doesn’t really count, things like the Wall falling or a big blowup of wildfire in KL, not to mention R+L=J, sometimes feel slightly affirming despite myself, y’know?

As for historical things given details in TWOIAF and F&B, I don’t have many strong headcanons there, so nothing has really bothered me. Well, hmm, no – it was a bit upsetting to see Rhaella married so young, which means her romance with Bonifer had to have been when she was like 12 years old, but that was more about being upset re GRRM’s thing with child brides and pre-teen sexualization rather than any strong headcanons I had about Rhaella/Bonifer. (I think he’s a pompous hypocritical religious ass now and I doubt he was that much better as a young man.) I really liked Enife’s Dance of the Dragons fanart made after TPATQ, but TRP revealing that many of those depictions were incorrect (the Velaryon boys, Jaehaera smiling) wasn’t disappointing, rather it made some things make a lot more sense. (Which reminds me, I haven’t seen anyone note that F&B retconned Rhaenys the Queen Who Never Was to having Baratheon black hair, which actually clarifies things a tiny bit.) I was a little disappointed about Alyssa and Rogar’s relationship, mind you, but that headcanon wasn’t especially strong.

Really, most of my real historical headcanons are re the Blackfyre and Dunk & Egg eras, and GRRM has yet to do anything bad to those. (Actually, he’s made them better, with Maekar making Bloodraven his Hand and the whole Great Council thing, and Dunk dealing with the fallout of the Duncan/Jenny thing, not to mention Summerhall.) Nor will he, until he publishes F&B v2 or more D&E stories or addresses any of those points in the books, and I firmly believe I’ll be proven right when they eventually come out. :)

Hope that helps!

#asoiaf #asoiaf headcanon #asoiaf theories #fire and blood #the world of ice and fire #twow spoilers #molicioushat #rhaella targaryen #bonifer hasty #rhaenys targaryen the queen who never was

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akocomyk · 6 years

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