#every day people are Wrong about characters and I feel anger in my bones

[thr0wnawayy]

Chapter 429 has been my Dabi's Dance

I can't stop smiling.

I wanted to start off by saying thank you. Not to Hori, but to you all. Every last one of you in these tags for your contributions. Be it analysis, re-reads, fan works or simply your perspectives. I look forward to seeing what you will make in the future.

So, Thank you.

I suppose I should start at the beginning. MHA was always in the background of my life and I hated it. I don't watch anime and yet still MHA related media would make it's way onto my socials in all it's obnoxious forms. This went on for years.

And then suddenly, it stopped. It seemed like MHA's craze had died down, I'd still see it from time to time through merchandise but never to the consistency it had prior.

That was until Dabi's Dance was published and the net went wild.

I knew a few things about Endeavor from my past exposure, he was universally hated and abused his kids and wife (to the point she scalded her son in a fit of psychosis).

Deciding I had nothing better to do, I found myself searching to see what kind of consequences would befall such a monstrous character.

Would he fall like Icarus, be torn apart by the public, how would the family he ruined react to the news?.

And then, nothing. No punishment, no reaction. Just dead air.

I recall that my face dropped internally. My blank expression mirrored my phone screen's sterile nature, as it displayed the information in front of me.

He got away with it. So I did some digging and it got so much worse.

Bakugo's evasion of any consequences or damages, coddled and shielded by Hori's inability to go through on anything.

Hawks who murdered a near crippled man on a hypothesis, for the mere crime of having the "wrong" quirk, for not giving up, for being "unlucky"

Aizawa, Hori's little mouthpiece. who decides to play judge, jury and executioner with the futures of students he's supposed to be teaching. Only for the Nedzu and the narrative to allow him, his friends turned into lapdogs that agree to the letter.

The Commission who strive to keep theirrotting husk of a system alive through assasins, child soldiers and indoctrination.

Even if it's gears must be lubricated with blood, even if it means lying to the world and having them clean up the mess. They MUST stay on top, the illusion must be upheld.

I just couldn't fathom how this was seen as a good thing.

And somewhere along the way I began to feel something akin to hate. Not your typical ire, one powered by anger, no.

I wanted to see how low Hori would go, just how horrifically he would mangle a series that everyone had once praised.

I wanted to witness what wonders a jaded community would create, to show what they were capable of (to create and understand MHA in a manner Hori wishes he could even emulate a fraction of)

I wished to see your own expressions of love and hatred.

The thought of witnessing the breaking point, the dust settling to expose all the glaring flaws and infested wounds of MHA. It buzzed in my brain like electricity.

The idea that when all was said and done, you, the people would do what Hori couldn't/wouldn't and forge the bones and salvagble bits of MHA into a story worth remembering.

One where abusers are punished for their crimes instead of rewarded

Where victims can have a voice, feel and grow, carve their own paths and move forward from their trauma.

Where the implications of MHA's rotting and disingenuous society get explored instead of swept under the rug

Where people get a chance.

I waited eagerly for the day it would all fall apart.

So, do you know what I did when I logged onto the tag and saw your posts!?.

I laughed, the shrill giggle in the back of my throat quickly surging into an almost manic cackle. It was like lightning, vindicating and sobering all at once. My face was stretched to it's absolute limits with how wide my grin was. I could almost hear the shattering of MHA's last bit of integrity and I loved it.

The realization MHA's greatest threat was the author himself, It's one that I grasped long ago (as far back as the Dark Dekiru Arc) and I'm sure most of you understood this as well.

But to see that more of you are starting to get it, to realize there's no going back. That as the curtains draw near and the lights begin to dim, there is no other side here. Violence begets violence and Hori's gone past the event horizon.

It feels, hopeful. Perhaps we can build something worth saving.

It's been a wild ride so far and it's still ongoing. Hori's time is long over, it has been for a while now, so I suppose what I'm asking Is:

Now It's Your Turn, what's your play?

_______________________________________

Update:

IT'S FINALLY HAPPENING!

[days-until-burnout]

ik this is a rarepair of a rarepair but impulsexjoel is stck in my hea, like they both had to deal with the entire pining saga of ethubs during double life, and now they're neighbours and everything

but anyways ty for considering my ask, and honesyly your writing is so good! i can't believe you have the energy to post everyday!

i know you said dealing with the ethubs pinning. i know you mentioned them being neighbours. but... 😔 the ideas were not ideaing. so i came up with something different. i hope you like it, even if it's not the vibes you were going for and thank you! ngl i dont have the energy, but im trying to build a habit of writing (almost) daily, so we do what we gotta! _____

📧 Day 37 -

Characters - Impulse/Joel Words - 963 Time - 45 mins Content - Zombie Apocalypse AU

Atop the skyscraper, Impulse finds Joel. He sees his back, the sun setting in front of him. All golden and warm, hell itself beautiful for a couple more minutes. It is a little cold where Joel’s shadow is casted, so he walks beside it, staying on the light to his side. There are no words spoken when he stops, side by side, the closest they have been in a while yet the furthest they have ever felt. He looks at the world below, the ruins of the city overtaken by greenery and abandoned toys. All metal and concrete, hard things meant to last now are mere decorations. 

The golden blanket becomes richer, darker as the last of the sun’s warmth slips from their fingers. 

There are few left. A handful that came back. And they are different people now, grown and changed. Impulse opens his mouth to say something, his words stolen by the wind, and he forgets they are on top of the world. He watches instead, to the only other by his side, a thousand things he could and should be saying, all stuck in his throat like something he cannot spit or swallow. 

Joel looks ahead to the horizon, the lines on his face almost invisible in what remains of the golden light. Suddenly, they are in their younger days—less scars, more people. A different time. Joel’s hair continues to be a mess, and he guesses that some things never change. Like the color of his eyes, rich soil with swirls of the sweetest honey. The shape of his lips, pressed into a thin line, the roundness of his face. His clothes are dirty and stained, nothing new to his eyes. Like a game, he tries to find differences, a thousand images of him flashing in his mind. 

Despite that, all his little game accomplishes is to remind him that time has passed. 

Then the night is here, the stars as their audience. Their witnesses. Impulse looks up to them, they blink back at him. The sky has never been clearer, the stars never been brighter. It is an odd feeling, warm yet wrong, almost funny in his stomach. 

The first words are spoken by Joel, nothing about them or the world they are in. No dreams or wishes—not even anger or disappointment, almost like an indifference settling deep in their bones. “Look at the fireworks,” Joel whispers, so loud in the desert of sound they are in. 

And Impulse does. Pries his eyes from him, looks at the horizon where Joel’s eyes are, and shortly after, the first trail of smoke. The whistle thins up, the sound carried all the way over to them, shooting up into the vastness of the sky. It blooms into a thousand stars, colorful like spring all those years ago. In between fields of blooming flowers, color and life everywhere they looked. It lights up the night like the sun for a couple seconds, something akin to hope in the darkest void. Then more explode, a light show to attract whatever remains of the ‘human’ zombies. 

Every six months the people gather to watch the fireworks—one night of their lives they are free to find shelter and not worry about the zombies. They will all be drawn to the light, to the sound, swarming the streets in hordes like moths to light. The government will deal with them, trap them in containment zones and douse them in flammable liquids, and they will burn as the world did all those years ago. 

But the shells explode and stars rain down, nothing to do but watch the beauty in duty. 

Reds like a bad sunburn during their summer days on the beach. Oranges like the sunset they just witnessed, one of many shared since forever ago. Yellows like sunflowers, like the first canaries telling them the world is healing, like spray-painted arrows leading them here. Greens like forests, the shade of the now faded streak in Joel’s hair. Blues like the sculk on the zombies’ skin, consuming every inch of muscle and brain until they are no longer human. Violet like the dog tags on their necks, inscribed with a name their lips no longer say. Silver like the hairs on their heads, white like stars that persist. 

Joel watches a life pass by in front of his eyes, on the face of the person who should have been the one. The one he comes back when he has sleepless nights, when his mind wanders and he wonders about another life—something nicer, maybe, where they do not need to fight to live; maybe a life where they get to be other people, one where they are not who they are, yet they stay together despite it all. Like now, he thinks idly as another white explosion flashes him—he finds his smile with tired eyes, silver hair and pain his eyes cannot see. 

“You’re not watching,” Impulse says briefly, blinking his eyes to him. They are young again, their whole lives ahead of them. Maybe this time they can choose to stay, maybe this time they will not return to each other with few. The last few, everyone they lost. But Impulse smiles despite it all, a joy or hope Joel fails to see. 

Whistles and explosions echo in the skies, under them the hoards walk. The numbers dwindle but it will stop soon. They did once, there will be a stand-still soon. Maybe then, they can change their minds and they can be other people. The same but different, side by side. 

Impulse takes the space between them and leans down. Joel closes his eyes, their foreheads bump. A difference in their temperatures, the slightest of differences and their lips part for something. Another day, maybe. 

_____

this is messy because brain scattered right now. i need to get my head in the game 🏀

[johannestevans]

Do you have any advice for handling sensitive topics in fiction, generally traumatic things a character may have been or may go through, especially if it's something we as an author haven't experienced first-hand? I have a character I'm writing that experienced a miscarriage in the past and I worry a lot about how I represent that, as it's not something I ever have or could experience

A lot of people have anxiety about writing about and representing traumas they haven't experienced because they fear the idea of like, offending or taking away from someone who has experienced that trauma and feels inaccurately depicted or recommended in what you've written. Especially when you're writing about a trauma or destabilising event that might be intrinsically linked to the ways in which the victim is marginalised, especially to a marginalised group of which you aren't a part, it can feel like you'll really wound them by writing it wrong.

Of course, the exact same applies if you HAVE experienced that or those traumas, and you're in the same marginalised groups.

Me and my best friend might have experienced exactly the same event, and yet the way I talk about and cope with it might be entirely different to the way they do - so much so that my talking or writing about it may upset or even anger them.

Writing sensitively is really about writing with compassion, and like... you can just do that.

Even if you don't know specifically what a miscarriage feels like emotionally or physically, you almost certainly have known grief. You have known the ache and pain of loss. You likely know the feeling, however irrational, of guilt or pain or just a panging longing in the aftermath of such loss - if you had been different, done something differently, would it have turned out alright? Is the loss somehow your fault? Does it feel better to blame yourself rather than admit that forces were at play beyond your control?

Or are you angry precisely at those forces? Are you bone certain that you could never have done anything differently, and does that certainty infuriate you? Chill you? Soothe you as much as it hurts you?

Trauma is trauma. It is the emotional wound that takes time to heal - if it ever fully heals at all.

Everyone deals with it differently, and the way in which your character deals with it will depend on their past experiences, their background, their relationships, their community support, their level of education or awareness on the nature of the pain they've experienced, their relationship with their body.

People experience miscarriages every day - for some, they're a blessed relief, for others, an untold agony. Was the pregnancy wanted? Had they had an ultrasound? Had they named the baby they wanted, imagined it, sang to it, told it stories? How late in their pregnancy is the miscarriage? What triggered it, if anything? Are they dependent on the success of this pregnancy for other things - their continued relationships, their sense of identity, their life, some political factor? Is a miscarriage going to affect or be affected by other health concerns? Have they had miscarriages before? Do they attach a moral idea to miscarriages or abortions? Do they feel safe and happy being pregnant? Has it been an okay pregnancy so far? If it hasn't, was the baby going to make the suffering worth it? Do those around them blame them? How many people will they have to tell? Are any of those people authority figures? Do THEY blame the pregnant person?

Read Reddit stories or forums. Listen to podcasts. Listen to people or read people talking about the many little traumas that add up to the one you have in mind - the little comments that people made that cut them, or the tiny, unexpected things that brought them solace.

In my opinion, every single topic imaginable is sensitive to somebody. To avoid or be frightened of particular sensitive topics for the fear that someone might be upset by your depiction is to shy away from a very intrinsic part of the craft - namely that to write pain (of any sort) is to be vulnerable in communicating the feeling of pain.

Consider the humanity of those that you're writing, and depict that humanity. Layer the elements of feeling in that character and their relationships.

And if you're ever SUPER worried about writing the absolute worst version of a scene or writing it so offensively, just search that instead.

Do a site:reddit.com and search something like "People who've had miscarriages, what's realistic / unrealistic about how they're shown on TV?" or "People who've had miscarriages, what do you wish people would know?" or "Miscarriages worst things people say" or "Miscarriage what made you feel better" anything else.

Read real people and learn from them. Go from there.

[angelfruittree]

Tell publicly 3 facts about yourself or your three favourite songs or favourite books (it can be anything, really-whatever you want to share/feel like talking about) then send it some people you like! ♥️♥️♥️

Ohhh thank you for the ask lys

1. One of my favorite characters ever is Kaul Hilo from the green bone saga - that sound that’s like “I’m not a bad dog I don’t know why I bite” is so very him but he’s rabid! He’s a middle child and something about middle children always gets to me. I think about this bit all the time ( not really a bit is it lmao)

“Now it seemed an impassable emotional mountain. Every time he longed to make things right with Wen, anger yanked him back, like a hand jerking away from flame or Steel rising against a blade.

How often had he found fault with Shae for keeping people at a distance for half the time not being honest with herself, and half the time not being honest with others? Now he was the one sealed off, nursing his invisible wounds alone, just as Lan had once done.

The thought filled Hilo with gloom and dread. He was not a naturally self-sufficient personality. He knew that about himself.

Perhaps some men truly did not need others, but very few, and there was usually something wrong with them to make them that way. The brotherhood of the clan was a promise that its warriors were not alone.

What was the point of Green Bone oaths, of all the sacrifices his family had made, of the relentless war against their enemies, if in the end, the promise couldn't even be kept for him and those he loved?”

But also he’s a murderer and implicates you in every single thing he does . I remember walking my dog listening to Jade war ( book 2 ) and I stopped in my tracks on the street GAGGED!! GAGGED within an inch of my life winded I had to put my hands on my knees.

2. I really love Tasha Suri and help I’m crying but she has these two books called Empire of sand and Realm of Ash and it’s about two sisters ( each book follows a sister) The first book is about the oldest sister ( shes amrithi, a people who have old magic in their blood descended of dessert spirits , they are a nomadic dessert people and they are violently persecuted and feared but their power is also deeply covered - her mother left when she was young bc that is the amrithi way they can’t be pinned down to one place and her father remarries and… anyway I’m talking about realm of ash ) Empire of sand follows a sister forced into an arranged marriage that enslaves her to this dark mystic ( because of her power) but anyway realm of ash follows her little sister, years later who is now a widow and there’s this one line that just skdjdjdjdnffn

“ She thought about how sensible it had always seemed to smooth away her sharp edges, how long her mother had worked to shape her into something worthy of being loved. But Arwa did not care if Gulshera liked her, never mind loved her. She’s had enough of being mothered and molded. She opened her mouth.”

Okay and finally

I read this fic the other day for my two babies 2buck and I’ve been thinking about it none stop sometimes I scream because I think of a line and then I look around me and I’m on the street - or my dogs just looking at me like so disappointed or maybe he’s proud idk here’s the fic my friend found it but idk if I should expose her !!!

But I can’t stop thinking about it ahsjzjzjsjssjsn

[ellieellieoxenfree]

22, 24, 25

22. your favorite part of canon that everyone else ignores

canon is not always great at doing this either, but trauma and disability. i look at some of my faves — rita farr, josee, vegas theerapanyakul, ai di, hartley rathaway, teresa mendoza, rita west — and they’re fucking absolute messes, all defined by some brutal shit. their respective canons have handled this with varying degrees of sensitivity (you know exactly who i’m subtweeting) and i don’t participate in all of the fandoms for these pieces of media, but i turn into an absolutely wild beast when people gloss over that because it’s too much of a challenge to include. people who faced years of childhood abuse or who were suddenly confronted with an unexpected, uncontrollable loss of autonomy are going to struggle with those things. one of these characters got shot multiple times in the abdomen, for chrissakes. and people are like ‘idk i guess he can have a marathon fuck sesh it’s cool this won’t interfere with his life in any way’ like YES IT WILL YES IT IS FUCKING PERMANENT, DIANE. there are physical effects and limitations that never go away. there is an ongoing, volatile sense of loss that will body you over and over again for the rest of your life. i love josee for tapping into the anger of disability (you know how i feel about my best girl) but i also love characters whose canons force them to grapple with a reality thrust upon them at a point in their lives when they can draw a clear delineation between Me Before and Me Now, rather than those who have never known the grief of your bodily function being ripped from you unexpectedly. and that isn’t just disability. that’s betrayal and abuse and loss of security and stability and identity. and if you can’t actually deal with the whole of a character’s raw ugly misery and anger on top of the fun fluffy bits to read or write then MAYBE the messes are not your arena.

24. topic that brings up the most rancid discourse

ooooh i’m gonna get canceled for this one but i will block people who get into internet slapfights about gender and sexuality. i’m an old shithead so i find the trend of needing to affix 500 microlabels to every character exhausting, especially in canons where none of these people would have the remotest fucking idea what you’re banging on about. and further, i find it extremely off-putting when a male character expresses traits that aren’t in lockstep with stereotypical or toxic masculinity and immediately gets painted as trans. i see one of these essays where you spend 10k assigning things to a character that are really just you projecting your own identity onto your fave and onto the blocklist you go. some of y’all make me miss fucking kinnies.

i also cannot fucking abide ship wars, because i came from a fandom where people got so mad about a pairing taking up too much screen time they engineered a plot to ruin a real person’s career over it (that was wave one of the bullshit, but i digress). i have watched that shit happen for years and years and yeaaaars — usagi/mamoru and seiya/usagi fans used to throw temper tantrums at each other like they were getting paid to, way back in the day — and it has never gotten any less noxious. it has, in fact, just gotten fucking worse with the increasing curdling of twitter and stan culture. it was bad enough when it was just screaming at each other over which boring girl harry potter should bone but now people have let that shit spill into the real world. now it’s just a normal thing to try to affect someone’s careers, or discuss your rpf ships in front of the people involved. FUCKING BOUNDARIES. LEARN THEM. RESPECT THEM. what the fuck is wrong with you people. stop sharing your fics with them or tagging them in your art. and yes, that even goes for bryan fuller. just because he’s a freak who probably beat off to all the hannibal/will art you sent him doesn’t mean you should have sent it in the first place.

25. common fandom complaint that you're sick of hearing

since you’re my BTS buddy…i wish for a meteorite to strike everyone who identifies as an army because if i’m stupid enough to go into the tag, 99% of the posts are ‘hybe/bighit is out to sabotage (fave’s) career’ or ’this is why (ship) is the only truth and everyone else is a dirty sinner going to hell for wrongthink’ and holy shit TAKE A MIKE’S HARD LOOK AT YOURSELVES FOR FIVE MINUTES. if you are so deeply invested in the sex lives of some random korean guys that you are getting legitimately angry at other people on the internet about them not thinking your preferred boy is making the sign of the two-backed aardvark with your other preferred boy, log off. go the fuck outside. i’m not above cracking jokes but some of y’all are rolling out the murderboards and obsessively documenting every single moment their faves happen to be in the same area of the stage to explain why one of them moving their little finger an inch to the right means he’s gonna get his ass eaten after the show.

the career sabotage shit i don’t even know, understand, or care to know. i see it in the tag fucking constantly and it exhausts me. i need to not engage in baseless conspiracy theories. i’m not here for this. just like i’m not here to figure out who in the group is taking a ride on the humpatron 3000, i’m not here to go through a million posts on 50 social media sites every day combing every single word choice for evidence that my faves are one wrong step from being put to death by bighit management. i just want to enjoy myself for five goddamn minutes.

as a very casual new fan, my experience has been 1% gifs of people whose faces and talent i enjoy and 99% screeching harridan drama whose point entirely eludes me. i hate all of these people. i hope they fall into the ocean. maybe the fish will be a more receptive audience than i am.

[pics-and-fanfics]

Bloody

Pairing: Best Friend!Bucky x F!Reader

Warnings: fluff fluff fluff fluff! Angst, violence, mentions of blood and gore, character death. Please, don’t read if you are uncomfortable with a major character death.

Summary: You and Bucky go on a mission, and it goes impossibly wrong…

A/n: I wanted to do another warm-up story for the slumber party, so here’s another! My word was “Bloody”. Also, I'm rating this 18+ because of the gore, soooo. :/

other works here, will make my day knowing you liked them! -> Masterlist

“COME ON, YOU’RE CHEATING!” you shout, throwing the play money in the air. Bucky laughs hysterically, and you pick up the board, pieces and cards scattering as you hit him over the head.

“Hey, calm down!” Natasha said, pulling you away as you clawed at her arms. “HE’S CHEATING, DAMMIT! HE WON’T GET AWAY WITH THIS!” Wanda laughed from where she was sitting next to Bucky, tears, rolling down her face as she fell backwards, Vision catching her.

“Y/n, calm down, it’s just a game of Monopoly!” Natasha hisses in your ear, and you growl. “I saw him stealing money from the bank!”

“Y/n, do you not remember we’re playing cheaters edition?” The anger flew out of you so fast, leaving you embarrassed. “Sorry.” you mumble, and stop moving. God, you were so embarrassed.

🩸

You shoot your gun, watching holes appear in the paper. You would be leaving with Bucky on a mission tomorrow, and you were not about to admit you were nervous.

You’d been dealing with Hydra for months now, and you were getting frustrated. Bucky would retreat to his room after every mission that involved Hydra, not letting anyone in. You’d had to break in through his window, which wasn’t very fun, you’d nearly fallen.

Bucky watched as you focused, shooting target after target in the head. If he was honest with himself, sometimes you scared him. Especially that time you broke into his room on the third floor by climbing through the window. He still had no clue how you’d done it. But it had been nice, knowing you cared enough to do that, even if you did nearly fall and die.

🩸

You pull the trigger on your gun, hearing tiny clicks. Dammit, you were out. And you were about to be dead meat if you didn’t do anything. “Buck, you got any spares?” you ask through the comms, hearing a grunt. So that’s a no.

“Dammit.” You throw the gun, hitting the dude in the face, making blood pour from his nose. “Wait, did you just throw your gun?” You blush, looking around, seeing Bucky looking at you through a hole in the ceiling.

“Shut it, Barnes!” You laugh, flipping him off, easily grabbing and choking a man that had been dumb enough to try and get to you with your other arm.

🩸

You hear a scream, one you’d hear in the middle of the night, when Steve wasn’t around to calm down his best friend. You run, dodging around and sliding under outstretched arms and people blocking your path. You didn’t have time to worry about these guys, you’d deal with them later, you needed to get to Bucky.

“Buck! Talk to me, what’s going on?” you whisper into the comms, hearing static. You growl, running faster. Come on, come on, come on.

Bucky screams again, stuck as he slowly gets ripped apart by a machine. How’d he even get here? What happened? He closed his eyes for two seconds, and then he was here, in excruciating pain.

His metal arm gets ripped off, the first to go. He could feel the bones and muscles stretching painfully, and he didn’t want to look at the mess where his arm had just been.

You pick up a discarded gun, checking how many bullets were left. Okay, you were good, it was nearly full.

You hear Bucky scream again, right inside the room. You kick down the door, shooting at the glass. After four bullets, it shatters, and you quickly dispatch the two men before shooting the control panel they’d been standing at.

You hear the machine stop whirring, and you finally look over. You look away, blocking the door. You couldn’t look, you couldn’t, it was so… red.

More than you’d ever seen. You force yourself to step in the pool of blood, untrapping Bucky. His shoulder, or what was left of it, was a bright red, bone, muscle, and fat sticking out, the whole mechanism for his metal arm having been ripped out entirely.

“Hey, I need you to talk to me while I call for help, alright? Don’t fall asleep on me, dumbass. Just think of how I’m going to beat your ass at Jenga when we get back.” you say, seeing Bucky nod, just barely alive. You slap his face lightly, supporting him. Why was he so fucking heavy?

🩸

As soon as you get back to the compound, Bucky gets rushed to medical, but you hadn’t moved from your spot in the cockpit. It’d been so bloody, a mess everywhere, blood had even spattered on the walls. You’d be surprised if Bucky actually survived that, he was just a hair away from death when you landed, frantically calling for help.

“Hey, you alright?” You turn, seeing Wanda, a blanket and a bottle of water in her hands. “I- I- I don’t know what happened, I looked away for 2 seconds.” Tears finally gather in your eyes, and you break down. “It’s all my fault! I should have got there sooner, kept a closer eye on him-”

“Hey, look at me.” You feel a hand grab your chin, making you look Wanda in the eyes. “It’s not your fault, you couldn’t have prevented it. All that matters is you got there when you did, and you did your best to help him.”

🩸

You feel the blood drain from your face when Steve tells you. Bucky- He couldn’t- No. Your hands were still stained in his blood as you fell to the ground, Steve wrapping himself around you as you screamed and cried.

“He- No- Please- No-” you begged, tears pouring down your face. “I’m sorry, Y/n, he’s dead. Too much bloodloss.”

🩸

You stared ahead blankly, something having broken in you. Your best friend- No. You saw the doors open, and the coffin got carried in. You reached out, Natasha gently pulling you towards her as you tried to muffle your cries.

🩸

“He was my best friend, and I-” you sniff, rubbing your nose. “I am ever so grateful for the time I got to be his friend. Thank you Bucky.” You step down from the podium before you break down, kissing your fingers and laying them on the coffin before going back to Natasha and Wanda.

You were empty, you’d never be the same, you knew this. Maybe- Maybe it was time to quit, especially since you’d never be able to do this again, not without Bucky.

🩸

I did warn you! I am so very sorry, but at the same time, no I’m not. Plz ignore the fact I was crying the whole time after deciding just how to fuck you up today.

Let me know if you want to be tagged in any future posts, and thank you @the-slumberparty for the opportunity to join in with so many amazing people for a month!

@vbecker10 @silverfire475 @huntress-artemiss @vickie5446 @sheris532 @lokixryss @lokidokieokie @stupidthoughtsinwriting @crimson25 @peaches1958 @iamlokisgloriouspurpose

[invisiblegarters]

Only Friends Ranking - Ep 4

Genuinely had to sit and think on this for a bit and watch certain parts of the ep again (oh what a burden) and ponder my own reactions a little. I fucking love this show.

But I want to add a little disclaimer, since I guess it's needed: these opinions are subjective. I'm not objectively sitting here ranking the messiness I'm subjectively ranking how much the messiness (or lack thereof, for now) entertains me personally. It's not a statement of fact over which character is the "villain" or the "good guy" because frankly, I don't think we have any of either (maybe in their own heads, but not in the show itself).

Okay. That out of the way let's do this.

Character Rankings (Fave to Least Fave atm)

Sand. Yep he's back on top, it felt weird to demote him last week but he was much less boring this ep. I think I'm starting to get a better read on him, which I didn't have before, and I'm enjoying what I see. While I would like him to be much more guarded against Ray in particular, I think he's just too forthright. Not just with other people but also with himself. And I wonder how much of that stems from his situation. Back before ep 1 First said that Sand doesn't have time, he is patient, he has to do a lot of things just to make ends meet, and I think that extends to his personal life as well. He knows Ray's a bad idea and he also knows he's gonna walk right into it, and I am tentatively hopeful that this is what will make him come out okayish in the end. Because at the end of the day he still isn't gonna have time for bullshit, either other people's or his own. I feel like Ray's gonna fuck that up a bit (or a lot) for a while, but in the end he'll reset to form, probably a little more jaded but altogether still fairly whole. I think that's about all we can ask for him.

I hope that the ex shows up for real. Flashbacks are fun but I want a little bit of mess and it seems clear to me that Sand still has unresolved feelings there, maybe Top too. I am also more sure than ever that he has some serious anger issues and I think we might get to see the Return of the Bat, and I for one am so very here for it. He still seems the most put together out of all of them which is a little disappointing, but again, I do wonder how much of that is because he doesn't have the time to give into the hot mess he really is. I'm very very curious to see how his relationships with both Nick and Ray affect that moving forward, because it seems like regardless of what went down with Top and the ex that better be Mix or I will revolt, he tends to keep himself fairly restrained, and those two are so openly messy and so very unrestrained that you can practically feel the car crash coming (hopefully not in the literal sense).

Also people need to stop calling him a green flag like yesterday. He is not. He's just better at compartmentalizing, give him two episodes I feel it in my bones he's gonna turn out to be a messy messy bitch.

Mew. Never let it be said that I can't admit that I was wrong. I still think that Mew is manipulative but I no longer believe that he is specifically keeping Ray on the line. Ray is keeping himself on the line, every time Mew tries to yank him off he just bites in harder. Which means it's really gonna sting in so many different ways when Mew eventually decides fuck it and does what Ray's been begging him for for two years, because I'm not sure the feeling will be there then either. But I still expect it - frankly the real surprise for me would be if Mew and Ray end the show without fucking. And while I guess it's still possible that they did sleep together two years ago in the current timeline Mew has put a firm "no" down - at least for now. And I have to respect him for it.

Kinda wish he'd stop talking Sand up to Ray though. For one, the more he pushes Sand at him the less likely Ray will actually develop organic feelings for him. For two, he needs to back away from Ray's love life wholesale until Ray no longer wants him to be intimately involved in it. It's just smarter, although I can understand why Mew might think differently.

Then again if he wants to keep noticing how lovely Sand is (he is Mew, good taste no notes) he can go right on, because I wasn't kidding when I said I was shipping this. Maybe instead of Ray Mew should have Sand be his ill-advised hookup after things with Top blow up. I for one would not say nay.

I genuinely thought I'd be annoyed if Mew were not some sort of mastermind, but I'm not. At all. That said, I still don't think he's half as innocent as the show wants us to believe. And I still feel like he's playing with Top. Oh, Top is playing back, a little, but there's something about the way he looks sometimes and the things he says ("I don't want to hide anything from you / I need you to be honest with me") that makes me feel like he's still got more going on than we're seeing. Also he has to know that Top's not gonna stop doing drugs if he sexes him up. There was something about that whole interaction that struck me as weird. I can't put my finger on it right now but it's one of the things that I am going to be chewing on in the days to come, I can already tell.

Ray. This one was a surprise, and I want to be clear. I do not like this guy, and yes, a lot of that stems from the fact that he's set up to hurt my fave, but also he's a wrecking ball in human form and the worst thing about him is that he is an aimless one. Boston is a wrecking ball too but he's pointing himself in one direction; Ray just swings wildly in every direction because he himself is aimless, he doesn't know who he is or what he wants and that is dangerous, especially when you add in his substance abuse and his struggles with depression (look I don't like armchair psychoanalyzing but yeah, depression is what I am going to call it). He feels worthless and hopeless, he hates himself, and the problem with that is that no one else will ever be enough. He will turn his hatred against anyone who cares for him because he hates himself so much that he truly does not understand how anyone else could like him, and the self-hate turns into a weird derision for anyone who tries to see past the shell.

Mew is only exempt from this, I think, because he doesn't want Ray in the way Ray so desperately wants to be wanted. He loves him, he cares for him and tries to build him up, but he is not in love, he can and will step away if Ray is becoming too much, he will set boundaries and stick to them. So Ray's ire can't fall on him because he's reinforcing all the things Ray thinks about himself: that he's a burden, that he's too much, that he drives people away, that he's so unlovable even his own mother couldn't love him.

Sand, however. Sand is gonna fall right into the trap that Ray is laying for him, and oh boy is Ray gonna make him pay for it.

I was surprised by how much he seems to have held on to all the mean things Sand's called him, though. Not that he held on to them as further proof of who he is but that it was Sand specifically that was calling him those things. That was interesting and unexpected.

I do not think that Ray genuinely cares about either Mew or Sand as people at this juncture, but I also don't think that it's on purpose. He's a drowning man grasping at any and everyone within reach who is treading water, and he can't look past his own panic at not being able to get enough air to understand or care if he's dragging others down with him.

So yes. I do not like him but I find him utterly fascinating and Khaotung is killing it. That bathtub scene was amazing and painful (and yes I'm still feeling smug for calling it, mostly because I made a bet with my friend and now they owe me fic. Man do I love profiting off of being right. It's like Christmas AND my birthday) and finally made me understand why he clings to Mew so hard, and why he will keep clinging in spite of everything that happened this ep, in spite of having someone else who wants to care for him the way Mew won't, in spite of probably trying to think of something (or someone) else.

But the sad, sad truth that Ray will have to face (maybe not in this show but eventually, as a character) is that it's no one else's job to fulfill him, and they can't anyway. He's gotta learn to love himself before he can really love anyone else, or let them love him. I can't get over the idea that at some point he's gonna have to break his own heart to figure that out.

Nick. He gets this spot just for the way he smiled at Top like "bitch I know Boston's the worst, do you really think I'm not?" I knew he wasn't gonna go to Mew with the sex recording though because he wants Boston and breaking Top and Mew up at this point is counterproductive to his goals. Still think that he should blackmail Boston into a real relationship though. Opportunity wasted. Also he's making me very wary of wanting to take my phone into IT if I ever break it, lol. Because you know Boston didn't give him his passcode.

I'm also curious why he went for Top because he has to know it was Boston pushing things this whole time.

Boston. He went from winning last ep to being kind of pathetic this ep. The elevator scene in particular. I was embarrassed for him. Don't tell me that he really thought that Top would just give up and start fucking him on the regular after one night? Come on. Top's pettier than that, my dude. He's gonna make you feel like a pathetic loser for it as well as renew his efforts with Mew just to prove that he can do everyone one better.

I have to admit I am curious what makes him pull the "I want to try settling into something" thing with Nick next ep. Does he suspect that Nick knows more than he's saying? Does Top outright tell him he does?

I am also looking forward to him or NIck causing some havoc with Ray and Sand. One of them is gonna spill the RayMew beans, right? Boston would do it out of pure nastiness, but Nick I think values Sand as a friend and would do it as a warning. Or maybe he's like Boston and will hold onto it for when Sand pisses him off...

Top. Frankly unless we find out that Boston has further evidence of Ray and Mew actually fucking or at least showed him some sort of manipulated vid, I think he's a complete dumbass. You don't get to police who the guy you're with now kissed before he even knew you existed (or did he? 👀👀👀). Literally the only reason I was on his side was that if they fucked it was less about the fucking and more about the deliberate dishonesty, but let's be real, even that is a little sketch. Especially when you yourself don't know how many people you've slept with.

However I also kind of want to be weirdly charitable and say that maybe it has less to do with being pettily annoyed that Mew *dared* to have some sort of non-platonic contact with someone else before him and more being blindsided by how much the idea of Mew playing with him hurt. Whether that's because players hate being played or because he has genuine feeling for Mew I'm on the fence about.

But I still think Boston showed him sex. Because he was very insistent about that point. Whether it was RayMew sex or something else I do believe there was something. And I wanted to look at that scene again to see what Mew's face does when he replies but youtube at this point youtube told me to go f myself so no dice.

Also I think we all called the addiction problems. Dude's a mess. And he's not going to stop being a mess for sex.

Relationships (most to least fave atm)

This time I'm not just going to include romantic relationships because finally we're seeing some real meat out of the other interactions.

BostonNIck. Genuinely I think these two of the best chance of actually working out right now, very much in a "they deserve each other" way. Neither one of them knows what boundaries are and they're both obsessive af. If they turn that on each other they're doing society a favor, lol.

SandTop. You know what I would love? If Top was actually into Sand and deliberately lured his ex away to make him available. Of course that's not where we're going but that's why fanfiction exists. But weirdly I do think that Sand hates Top more than Top hates him - maybe he feels remorse for stealing his ex. Maybe they were friendly before he did that. I don't know. I do know that I want them to make out about it and I will never stop. You hear me? I will. Never. Stop.

SandNick. These two are gonna be fun. You can just tell by the way that Sand didn't even bat an eye when Nick was like hey listen to this audio recording I got when I bugged my FWB's car.

TopMew. Both still playing games. The balance of power between these two fascinates me because it seems to switch back and forth at will. I still feel like neither of them is *really* feeling much but I wonder if and when that will change.

MewRay. It's the only thing I can't make myself ship, but I thought that their whole dynamic was super interesting this ep. I can understand Mew trying to build Ray up, especially as he seems to be the only one who is privy to how deep Ray's issues go, and I can also understand Ray latching on to him hard because of that. When he kissed Mew while Mew was trying to sleep I recoiled from my screen so hard it physically hurt, lol. I do not know if that was the intention but it's what happened. Ideally I'd love it if they came out of this mess stronger friends but not sleeping together or paired romantically, but I don't have the highest hopes for it.

SandRay. I'm gonna be frank. Ray doesn't need a boyfriend. He needs a therapist and possibly a stint in rehab. Sand's gonna bash himself on this one like a bird against glass and it's gonna hurt him a lot. They're gonna flare hot and bright and burn to ash, but maybe, just maybe, they'll be able to emerge from the ashes as friends. It isn't lost on me that they do genuinely seem to get on even when they're not preluding to sex. For me this really depends on how fast it falls apart. If they've split by ep 9 I can really see a friendship emerging from this, but if not...nope.

Franky this one worries me. Because Ray latches on and it would be very easy for him to become far too dependent on Sand far too fast, and that's the last thing that either of them needs. Whether they fall in love or not (and I still think Sand will and Ray probably will not) is immaterial. If Sand (because for better or worse it's gonna have to be Sand) doesn't catch on fast enough to what Ray's doing with him it's gonna spell trouble, even without any interference from an outside party or even counting in Ray's continued feelings for Mew.

Sand clearly wants to be with Ray as equals, whether their relationship remains just friends or something else. And Ray is incapable of fulfilling that wish as he is.

SandMew. New ship alert! They should make out. The only reason it gets lowest billing is that it's a pipe dream comprised of one line from Mew and the fact that they both would be very good at communicating their needs with each other, at least from what we've seen thus far.

[xalsirarts]

!!!PLEASE READ!!!

Oc Lore/TW DV:

Meet one of Ellie's ex's (they started dating a few months after Ellie becomes a pasta). As you can tell- he's not very nice (he's actually walking garbage).

Lik (LICK) is an oc I made to process my issues and truama from my toxic relationship (a decade of mind games I'm still dealing with every day). He's some kind of gargoyle, so yeah, he has the same body resistance and strength and density as stone. Pebble brain (he literally doesn't understand that he is being toxic and is a narcissist. Ex: Jeff knows he is a d!ck and will toxicly explode his emotions on someone, so he purposefully denies himself those interactions - even if that furthers the anger he has towards not being involved).

I understand that you may not like Lik or be upset with his character- but that's also the point. I MADE HIM TO BE HATED.

TW/DV: Ellie and Lik's relationship is physically, emotionally, and even sensually toxic and ab*sive. Ellie doesn't tell anyone (the complicated and psychological gaslighting survivors do to themselves in order to survive the frequent and repetitive truama). Jeff ends up finding out and helps her realize that what Lik is doing is NOT okay(Jeff understands how easy it is for someone like him to slip into harmful behaviors, wether or no he means to. Lik doesn't think he has done anything wrong and if "Ellie hadn't ____-" then she wouldn't "need a lesson".

Ellie and Jeff's "relationship" is extremely complicated and toxic in its own way that latches and feeds off of the codependency of two unstable and desperate individuals in different ways (its a fandom full of cerial munchers- things are toxic and complicated).

That being said, my creepypasta AU HC is very dark and complicated as it is based off experiences in my life mixed with my interpretations of the creepypasta from my years in the fandom; finding Jeff the Killer's creepypasta video after watching SMILE(mlp) back in 2011. I've been in the fandom/watching the drama throughout the past 12 years and have incorporated my experience and connections and some actual history into the lore of my pasta HC.

Ellie's lore is also very intense and is based off of the real story of the "radiation man" as well as the phenomenon of 411 cases and the dark side of child exploitation (it's been happening since long before the internet-). She has a complicated love life, including many inappropriate relationships and even a "failed" marriage??

There are obvious things about Ellie's story that might make people combat the details (I get it- she wouldn't be green she would literally have nothing being able to stick to her bones as her DNA would literally be melting from the radiation) but also- Jeff wouldn't be white and his hair wouldn't have turned black. So shush- that's the fun of creepypasta is bull s-ing your own lore and facts (while still being respectful to others and their own HC/AUs).

If you have an issue/jealous of someone's AU or feel like there is "only one real one"- think of it like the multiverse.

!!!PLEASE DO NOT ROMANTICIZE LIK OR ELLIE'S TOXIC/DV RELATIONSHIP WITH HIM! MANY INTERACTIONS BETWEEN THE TWO CAN BE CONNECTED BY TO MY OWN EXPERIENCES! -CREEPYPASTA HAS ALWAYS BEEN AN OUTLIT TO EXPRESS/EXPLORE THE DARK PARTS OF LIFE IN A SAFE WAY(for myself an many others, especially since covid)! TO HAVE A HEALTHY OUTLIT TO RELIVE THE TRUAMA AND PROCESS IT INSTEAD OF SURVIVING THE MEMORIES OVER AND OVER IS SOMETHING I CHARISH IN FINDING WITHIN THE CREEPYPASTA FANDOM!!!

THANK YOU FOR READING <3<3<3<3<3

[areus-in-a-little-cave]

onnngnghnngnhnghn. ooghnghnhgnhgnmhgmnnmghmn

[minsyal]

The Fugitive (Finding Home), Pt. 1

Karl Heisenberg x Reader

Warnings: strong language, Resident Evil-esque violence and descriptions of gore, and dark/sexual themes

Summary: A once-in-a-lifetime trip turned dark. You're quickly exposed to the sinister and mysterious world of a cursed village under the control of dark leaders. How long will you last and will you ever return home in one piece?

Backpacking through Eastern Europe was not a top priority on your “to do” list. In fact, it was quite the opposite. Being one to preplan everything, you were completely caught off guard when your roommate sprung the idea of the trip out of the blue. You roommate, Jezebel Haine, was your first and only roommate from college onward. All legs, she was one of the stars of the track team but was most certainly not one of the brightest shining ones. She was considerably dim-witted, fanatical, and had a booming over-the-top personality that scared every potential boyfriend who had the disservice of meeting her. There were times, though, that she was rather endearing. Her childlike sense of self and emotional drivers consistently put her at a crossroads between what everyone else was doing and what she should be doing; she was, and always will be, a follower.

After four years of becoming “the bestest of friends,” you had a hard time imagining such a hard shift either into another roommate or living alone. Plus, her parents funded most everything she did and, in turn, funded the apartment the two of you shared.

“It’s an amazing opportunity!” She insisted, waving her hands in a simple manner as she rose from the condensed cushion of the leather-clad couch. “Think about it.” Gathering your hands in hers like a 20’s actress who had just met the man of her dreams, she pulled the bundle to her chest. “We frolic through the European countryside, it’s golden hour. My skin looks absolutely gorgeous… yours too, of course. The sun is just about to set, but alas!” She let out a dramatic gasp, removing one of her hands to cover her mouth. “It’s growing dark out!”

“That’s what happens when the sun sets.” You noted, causing her to drop the act for a moment only to immediately go back into character.

“We hear the crunching of leaves and twigs all around us as if something…” she drew close and lowered her voice to a whisper, “sinister is coming. Out of no where we’re ambushed! By what, I’m not sure. Then,” her eyes became glassy as she lay a delicate hand to her forehead, “two absolute studs… and I’m talking big bulging muscles, gorgeous trendy hair, captivating eyes… really everything a simple girl could ask for… seemingly drop from the sky! We’re saved!” She throws your hands into the air as if they’d fall like confetti. Drawing both her arms in, she sways back and forth in a waltz of one. “We’d be married by the next day! Hell, maybe we’d even end up as princesses.”

Oh, how utterly wrong she was.

“I told you this was a stupid idea.” You groaned, haughtily holding your chin up while feeling your spirits low. A few miles back, on an asphalt road that quickly turned to dirt, sat the dingy red rental truck with a blown out engine and a deflating tire. With no cell service and the last town being over 100 miles back, your only choice was to walk.

“Don’t blame me!” Jezebel stopped walking, feet falling flat to the ground as she stomped her foot in a childish manner. “I,” her lip quivered as all the anger held in her body dissipated, “I just wanted to have a fun time with you.” Big tears flowed from her eyes quickly after finishing her proclamation, leaving smearing black lines down her face from the eyeliner she insisted was necessary in the Romanian countryside. God, if her parents weren’t funding this trip, you’d throw a fit for your money back.

“Jess, just,” reaching backward, you fished a rag from your backpack, “don’t cry. That’s not going to make this better.” Sniffling, she accepted the rag and wiped her eyes, further smearing black all over her face. You couldn’t help but feel a shred of sympathy for her. “Let’s just keep going. No use in wasting daylight. I really don’t want to get caught out here in the dark.”

“Where are we supposed to go, then?”

“I’m sure the next town will have some sort of inn or hotel. At the very least, they’ll have directions to the nearest city.”

After another five miles of walking, the sun was beginning to set and no gorgeous studs were waiting to save you. The blazing yellow ball inched slowly beyond the horizon. Its warming rays that had kept the snow from freezing the two of you in the day crept down below the snow peaked mountains that were nestled in the distance. Shadows began dancing between the trees, sending the forest into a theater of silent performers. The dirt road that was once large enough for two cars was now only a walking path so slim that Jezebel had to follow on your heels. Every now and again you were reeled back by the piece of rope that she had attached to your backpack that was firmly gripped in her hand. She claimed it made her feel safer.

“You think those two hunks are going to come save us now?” You joked, attempting to make light of this dark situation.

“I wish.” She huffed, frustration evading her voice as exhaustion took center stage.

Flickering light caught your eye. Hues of yellow and red mingled together in the distance, the outlines of rooftops and smoke-filled chimneys littered the ground below. “I think that’s a village.”

Another mile of downhill travel was all it took to reach the place where the once distant flickering of torches and lanterns grew into the quiet streets of a cluttered settlement. There was no clear indication of movement once you stepped foot in the village; the only evidence of any life came in the form of fresh boot prints, livestock, and the ever-blazing lanterns. Jezebel was all to happy to release your makeshift leash from her fingers, trotting mindlessly by to examine the street corners and homes. Your eyes continued wandering up the rooftops, finally landing upon the eerie looming castle situated on the mountainside above.

From around the bend, you heard Jezebel screech.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You threw caution to the wind, quickly rounding the corner to scold her like a parent would to a misbehaving child. “You don’t know if these people are violent or not. We can’t just go parading ourselves into the town center.”

“I think they’re violent.” She mustered the shaky words. Her hands covered her eyes and the majority of her face as she backed away from whatever had caused her distress.

“What?” The unpleasant squelch of snow beneath your feet caused your attention to draw downward. Dark snow surrounded your boot, an unnatural red hue stained the pure white. Gaze moving upward, your chest restricted feeling as if it had crushed inward on itself. The putrid smell finally fell upon your nostrils as you backed away from the scene. Severed animal heads hung lazily above you, their tongues flopping from their opened mouths.

“I want to go home.” Jezebel sobbed, rasping her cries into her cupped hand. Shaking her head as if to knock this moment from her brain, her short-lived façade of curiosity gave way to her immediate feeling of impending dread.

“That’s what I’m trying to do right now, Jess. Just, calm down.”

A low grumble had you standing further on edge, if that was possible at this point. The sound was clear as day and was anything but human. You weren’t even sure a human could get to an octave so low without the help of technology. Eyes darting upward once more, a chill ran from your shoulders to your toes.

Hauntingly yellowed eyes lingered upon the two of you. The beast-like figure was silhouetted by the moonlight, outlined like a ghost. It looked to be a man, but also anything but a man in the same sense. Its mouth was parted, baring old rotted teeth that looked to have dried blood caked between its gums. Its hands were bloodied as well, small cuts were painted across its forearms only hidden by the rags that clung to its chest.

Before you could process the situation, Jezebel let out another yelp. In an instant, the beast lunged down from its perch, landing with a ground shaking thud nearly five feet before you. “No!” Jezebel’s open palm collided with the space between your shoulder blades as she pushed you toward the monster. The last thing you saw was her backpack falling to the ground as she began running toward one of the homes. You landed face-first in the snow, groaning as all the air in your lungs were forced out. The beast snarled, once again showing its teeth as it hunched down to your level. This was, most certainly, not the way you envisioned dying. Things like this weren’t supposed to exist; this is myth, this isn’t real. It all felt like bad dream gone worse that you couldn’t wake from.

“Pesky creatures, aren’t they?” A new voice called out as the horrendous sound of metal crushing bone and muscle slithered through your ears. The disgusting feeling of gore instantly trickled down your hands. “Please,” the voice continued, “feel free to thank me anytime.”

A moment later, the stranger let out a scoff with the squishy suction of whatever he had used to quiet the monster. The tap of a boot on your elbow finally prompted you to uncover your eyes. “Or don’t.”

“I,” you started, opening and closing your mouth multiple times unable to find the right words, “thank you.”

“Oh.” He tiled the stiff rim of his frayed hat back, exposing a pair of circular sunglasses perched upon his nose. “Foreigners, eh?”

“Yeah, um.” You gathered yourself, finally pushing up to stand on your feet. “We got lost.”

“And ended up here, no doubt.” A stifled chuckle left his lips as he tilted his hat back in place and swung whatever he used to kill the beast over his shoulder. “If I were you, I’d get the hell out of here.”

Without another word, the stranger sauntered off with a backward wave of his hand. “Oh, and have someone clean this mess up.”

“Y/n!” Jezebel’s shrill voice called as she returned with a rather confused villager. He held a shotgun with both of his hands, Jezebel shone a flashlight in your eyes.

“Are you okay?” The villager moved forward with extreme caution after peering around you dumbfoundedly seeing the crumpled body.

“I’m fine, no thanks to her.” You spat, anger swelling in your throat causing a particular acidity to your words.

“All of you! Inside this instant.” A matronly holler came from behind Jezebel and the villager. “You know Miranda’s protection only runs so far as we grow closer to this time.”

Who is Miranda and, more importantly, who was the man who saved you?

The home you were ushered into was on the outskirts of town. It was one of the larger estates given the fact that some people seemed to live in one-room shacks. Upon entering, you were greeted with the warm glow of yellow light trickling in from what looked to be a formal living room. The sweet aromas of honeyed tea wafted through the air, drawing further in as the woman led the three of you deeper into the home. What was worse? You pondered. Being killed by that beast or potentially being murdered by the inhabitants of this home? You couldn’t decide. Thus far, the two gave no indication of malice.

“Please, sit.” The woman pulled out two of the chairs at her table, the wood scratching against the floor. “I’ll fetch the tea.”

Jezebel was so brainless. She smiled at you as if she hadn’t just offered you up as a midnight snack. Surely there was no hamster running on that squeaky track that powered her.

“What was that thing?” You turned to the man who was now seated to your right. “The monster.”

The man ignored your question, instead grabbing a piece of rounded bread from the plate at the center of table. Slathering butter on it, he looked to you. “How’d you kill it?”

“I didn’t.” You frowned, recalling the mysterious man who saved your life without even dropping his name. The villager raised his brows and kicked his foot up on the table. He was waiting for more information. “Some man came out of nowhere. He had some hammer-like weapon.”

As soon as he processed the words, his foot fell from the table and he leaned forward, uncomfortably close. You could smell the distinguishable bite of alcohol percolate from his lips. “Did he wear glasses? A hat?”

“He did.” The words slowly drifted from your mouth. “Hair to about here.” You motioned to the halfway point of your neck.

“Adelina,” the man called, presumably to the woman who guided you inside. He got up quickly, rushing to the other room leaving you and Jezebel alone.

“What the hell is going on here?” You whispered in a harsh tone, leaning forward to get closer to her. “Is this not weird at all to you?”

“I think they’re nice people.” Jezebel responded at full volume without a second of thought.

“That’s coming from someone who tried to feed their supposed best friend to a monster.”

“I was buying us time to get help.”

“Help? I almost died!”

“But you didn’t.”

“When we get back to the U.S. I never want to speak to you again.” You seethed. How could she be this bad? You knew there were a few… a considerable amount of screws missing from Jezebel, but how in God’s green earth does she justify her actions at this point? The thought of it accompanied by her dazed and empty stare only fueled the fire of anger more.

“Dear,” the woman, who you now knew was Adelina, reentered the room accompanied by the man with a tray of cups and a kettle in her hands. She set a delicate china glass in front of you, softly filling it with a reddish colored liquid that she assured you was Celestial Seasonings, a tea imported from Africa. “I hear that you’ve met Lord Heisenberg.” Placing a hand over her heart, she gave a warm smile that only sent another wave of dread through your body. There was something so alluring about this woman, yet so sinister.

“Lord, who?”

Adelina stiffened, craning her neck to the side as she plastered a forced smile upon her lips once more. You had upset her, that much was obvious. “One of the four Lords that rule here alongside our dear Mother Miranda.” She explained, pushing the cup of tea closer to your body. Jezebel had already finished her first glass. Warily, you lifted the cup in your hand and allowed the warm water to heat your frozen body. An elongated finger pointed to the framed painting that hung to the wall. “Mother Miranda protects us here.”

Mother Miranda. You could only focus on the image of the woman silhouetted by six black wings and a halo outlining her head. Her eyes were indistinguishable behind the raven-like mask that clung to her face. Adorned in a black garb, she looked to be a holy figure in this town. But like Adelina, something just wasn’t right with Miranda.

The unsettling reverb of crickets and cicadas chirping grew louder and louder with each passing hour. You counted the seconds between waves of mass chorus; so far, it was roughly thirty seconds between each bleating scream of their nightly tune. You couldn’t sleep. Despite the somewhat comforting, but entirely unsettling welcome given by Adelina and Marion, you couldn’t help but feel like a caged animal in the tiny cupboard room they had given you. A curious thought tickled the back of your mind, willing you to remain as alert as possible after an exhausting day of hiking; where had they put Jezebel? Not that you particularly cared at this point. After the attack she had done a 180, dropping all suspicion of malice in this village. She simply flushed the pictures of hanging heads and wild beasts from her memory. You sometimes envied her lackadaisical memory accompanied by a fanatical view of the world. Living blissfully ignorant, especially in a situation like this, seemed to serve her best.

After a small dinner of fish that smelled of ammonia, of which you politely picked at, Adelina insisted the two of you stay the night. “The beasts will return!” She exclaimed, holding a firm hand over the intricately carved wood of the doorframe. “Early tomorrow we can arrange for a car to pick you up from the next town over.” Hushed murmurs climbing up from the cracked floors pulled you from your thought. The voices spoke in an incomprehensible argument.

“I’d quite like to keep...” the words faded in and out.

“No, no, no. Don’t be ridiculous...”

“What if....”

The floor spoke a soft squeak from beneath your feet as you shifted to get closer to the voices. Their conversation stopped, and you waited with bated breath for it to continue.

“We have to offer someone up tomorrow.” It was Adelina.

“I know, I know.” Marion sounded frustrated. “But you know Mother Miranda prefers only the purest. How are we supposed to know if either of them are-”?

The words faded once more as the two moved from room to room. Walking on the sides of your feet, you followed. Peeking around the corner, your eyes landed on Adelina and Marion illuminated by a flickering fire. They stood close to one another, keeping their tones low.

“Clearly, we offer the frumpy one. Take a look at her. There’s no doubt in my mind that she’s unexperienced.” Adelina snickered, taking a seat on the worn couch with her back to you. “She wouldn’t fit in here anyway.”

“The dumb one would get along nicely with our son.”

“I agree.”

A knock at the front door sent a shiver of adrenaline down your spine. Quickly scrambling to hide, you took in a deep breath as Marion passed by with his shotgun in hand. From the parted door, you could see the sun barely peeking over the horizon. Had it really been that long already?

“Are you sure she’s pure?” The new man stood in the doorway rushed past Marion, looking in the direction of the room they had put you in.

“I suppose we could check.” Adelina called, rising to join the others. “The both of them had that tea. They shouldn’t wake until the ceremony later today.”

“Is she in there?”

“Yes, the other one is upstairs.”

“Let’s check this one first.”

With heavy footsteps falling upon the rotting floorboards of the somewhat dilapidated home, you slunk further into the shadows of the room behind you. The glint of something metal caught your attention; a small handgun sat perfectly on a dresser as if set there intentionally for you to find. Holding your breath, you crept forward to it. You’d never shot a gun in your life, but you knew the basics... both hands, check for ammo, rack the slide, pull the trigger. At least, that’s what the movies told you.

“Out of bed so soon, are we?” The soft voice turned malevolent as Adelina appeared in the doorway of the room. “I wouldn’t use that if I were you.” She motioned to the gun that was aimed rather unskillfully for her chest.

“What the fuck is going on in this village?” You spoke with purpose now, tone wavering slightly as Marion stepped behind his wife.

“You don’t understand things around here, girl.” Adelina spat, moving aside as Marion began charging into the room. The loud blast of the gun echoed from the walls of the home followed by a harsh curse and the sound of a body crumpling to the floor. You had shot Marion in the leg; he’d live.

“No,” you started, re-racking the slide as Adelina’s other friend approached wielding a similar gun to your own. Adrenaline washed over your nervous system, your hands shook violently, but you attempted to remain composed. “You’re the one who doesn’t understand. This isn’t normal! Tell me what’s going on now or,” your eyes trailed down to Marion who was attempting to control the flow of blood from his wound.

“You wouldn’t.” She laughed bitterly.

“Like hell, I wouldn’t.” You exclaimed, training the gun onto her. “Now tell me, what’s happening here.”

“You’ll understand soon enough.” Adelina’s friend’s words were the last thing you heard before your ears rang and the sting of a bullet burnt white hot in your shoulder. You weren’t sure if your gun ever went off again.

Despite being tied, bathed, dressed, and currently sitting on a freezing alter-of-sorts, you still hadn’t the slightest clue as to what was going on. A crowd of villagers surrounded from the south, all carrying on with a rumble of conversation. Adelina shot daggers at you, Marion as well, from a small, inclined hill at the edge of the crowd. The clothes you wore were your own, she had fished through your backpack claiming that it was of no use to waste a nice dress on “someone like her.” Jezebel was likely still fast asleep at their house.

A woman with the likeness of the framed photo you had seen appeared out of nowhere. So, this was the famous Mother Miranda that everyone regarded so deeply. She stood before you as the crowd’s voices hushed and their eyes became hazed with looks of admiration and devoted appreciation. Surely, she was a human, deities and gods didn’t exist in a physical form, you assured yourself.

Without a word, Miranda moved gracefully as if flowing across the ground to stand before Adelina. Taking her face between her hands, she whispered what you assumed to be praise as Adelina’s lips moved rapidly thanking Miranda. She then moved to Marion and grazed her hand against the wound on his thigh, speaking of how his steadfast devotion would quickly heal any injuries of cruelty spread by evil. When her attention finally fell back to you, she frowned. Stalking around you in circles, Miranda’s imposing figure made you want to shrivel to nothingness.

“Thank you.” She turned to the villagers as if to dismiss them. “When the time comes, I will return for another.”

The black wings you had seen in the photo sprouted from her back, shielding your sight of the villagers as they retreated to their homes. Hopeful cries and shouted blessings to Miranda echoed from the crowd as the village gate slammed. The only evidence of them once populating this empty square were flowers and offerings of fruit and grain left for the supposed goddess.

The world swiftly darkened once more.

Part 2 - Paths Meet

I promise there's more Heisenberg in the next part..

Feedback is always appreciated

[angellissy]

Hey :) I’ve never requested anything before so I’m sorry if i do it wrong hahah

But could I request something where instead of ward faking his death it’s rafe who has to do it and none of the pouges know about your relationship until it’s you crying in the dock instead of Sarah. And when you and the piggies go on the “rescue” mission to get Sarah off of the boat you see rafe and eventually end up staying with him and leaving your friends

I’m sorry if this is really long xx thank you for taking the time to read my request

R E A C H I N G  F O R  T H E  S U R F A C E

SEASON TWO SPOILERS!

rafe Cameron x Reader

warnings: angst with a big a, canon rafe (maybe a bit softer), toxic relationship, rafe playing the victim card, death and talks of suicide.

a/n: I feel like it is of importance that I tell you all that I have done everything in my power not to romanticize the rafe cameron character and if I have then please kindly let me know because sometimes it can be hard. However I still need to say that I am writing through the eyes of the “reader” who very much still cares for this boy, which also means that the way the reader deals with things might not have been your way. If any more warnings should be included in the beginning, feel free to let me know. I hope you enjoy this fic which I am actually very proud of. A big thanks to @snkkat​ who is my proof reading buddy. Also thanks for sending in the request, I LOVED writing it! <3

They say that when you die your life flashes before your eyes, but how about when you watch someone else die? For as you watched him die, the life and moments the two of you had shared flashed before your eyes like a string of reminders of a life and love lost. It felt as if there was no air for you to breathe, you weren’t even sure how long it had been since you managed to take a full breath. Your mind was running in circles, trying to grasp what had just occurred, replaying the scene over and over again until you were not even sure what reality you were in. With a hammering heart and a split soul, you were kneeling on the dock, just minutes after watching your first love take his own life. You could not even remember how you had gotten out here in the first place, you just wished that you would have stayed behind as all your friends rushed toward a disaster in waiting. Perhaps that would have spared you some of the heartbreak, spared you from hearing him scream that he loved you one last time, spared you from seeing his boat go up in flames. But no, you were sure that for as long as you lived, you would see that blazing inferno whenever you closed your eyes.

There were arms around you, an attempt to soothe your shaking body, it only made you feel more trapped in a memory you would never escape. Those arms lifted you up and suddenly you were walking, mixed in all the anger and sadness there was a surprise that your body was even able to function. It felt as if you were outside of your body watching everything occur, you watched as Kiara and JJ helped you sit down on a sofa and as they draped a blanket over your shoulders. You watched it unfold, but you couldn’t feel it and there was no way that you would be able to respond to their worried questions. Instead, you were stuck in a mind that replayed everything Rafe had ever said or done to you as if that somehow could manifest him back to life. That stuck-up boy with the golden hair had been your first boyfriend, complicated as the relationship may have been, it had been the first time you ever experienced something close to love. Just days ago you had stood before him, tears in your eyes and heart in your throat as you called the relationship off. For a very long time, he had not been the boy you fell for, but rather a ghost of who he once was. Where he had once been sweet and tender with you, there had only been cold stares and words sharp enough to cut through ice. You were not oblivious to the fact that he struggled with issues you could never comprehend, but you refused to be an accomplice in his undoing. Time after time you had tried to be the person he could cling to when the world sat heavily upon his shoulders, but you soon realized that love and affection could not solve all problems. Oh, and you had loved him so much that you would have done anything for him to smile at you the way he had when he uttered those big three words for the first time. He had watched you with eyes that held so much adoration that you thought that they would never dim, that they would shine brighter for each time his eyes found yours. But eventually, they had dulled, and so you had realized that you would not sacrifice yourself no matter how much you cared for him. It did not matter that you had called things off with him or that you had decided to leave him in order to save yourself, for the knowledge that he was actually gone made it feel like someone was clawing at your heart and trying to rip it apart. It felt like no time in the world would be able to heal the pain in your chest or dry the tears falling from your eyes.

Time was indeed a funny thing, how seconds turned into minutes and how then those minutes became hours. Hours that you spent reminiscing over a life you thought you had given up before it was lost forever. You clung to the memories of him as if they were the lifebuoy keeping an anchor from pulling you down in a sea made up of your own sorrow. You knew that you were staying in your own made-up memories of a relationship with more bad times than good, but a part of you felt that you could not grieve the person he had become. For he had been vile and horrid, and if you acknowledged that, you would feel guilty for the sadness overwhelming you. So yes, you stayed in your made-up reality and wept for the boy that could have been. As hours turned into days, your friends made every effort to comfort you and try to get you out of the room that had become your place of mourning. Their tries aggravated you, for they did not understand the feelings rushing through your body at such speed it made you lightheaded. Each one of them had hated Rafe Cameron with at least one bone in their body and you knew how some of them had looked the day he died as if they were content that he was finally gone. Relieved that he could no longer plague them with taunts and threats that might have become reality was it not for his passing. You might have understood this, had it not been for the grief and guilt plaguing every bone in your body.

As days turned into weeks, you eventually came to appreciate their efforts to help you. It was like your vision was starting to clear and you could finally start trying to live your life again, and the first step to doing that was always to surround yourself with people that made you roar with laughter. Their ventures to try and find the Cross of Santo Domingo, were helpful, to say the least. Those adventures were as distracting as they were terrifying since the outcome was never given. Your mixed friend group of pogues and kooks had actually found that damn cross as well. Who would have thought that a bunch of high school kids would be able to find a historic relic? The answer would have been no one, and that is why you don’t underestimate kids with no limits. The cross had been in your grasp until a greedy and manipulative Ward Cameron came along and grabbed it. Ever since that particular happening, things started going south fast and it all ended up with Sarah being kidnapped by her own guardians. It also ended up with the rest of you stowed away like cargo on the ship she was on. While John B and Pope carried out their plan to find Sarah and the famous cross, you, JJ, and Kie sweated from every pore as you waited to hear from them. You had zoned out, staring mindlessly into one of the walls of the container, in the background you could hear your two friends talk about their dreams for the future. Something about going on several surfing trips at various destinations with each other, and that part made your heart ache. Sure, after everything he had done, a future with Rafe had not been one of your dreams. Still, as you listened to your friends talk, you could only remember a time where he had been everything you wanted in life. You pressed your palms upon your face as if you somehow could force every memory of him to remain in that little part of your brain where you were hoping they would become forgotten. A loud clank dragged you out of your thoughts and you looked up just in time to see Pope and John B climb in through that small window opening, followed by a woman you had never ever seen. Shortly after that, problems started to arise and soon all of you were scrambling out of the container in hopes of not being detected by the workers on the boat. They were in obvious search of all of you, which made you sweat even more than you had done inside the container. All of you received different plans on how to tackle the situation, yours was to act as a lookout for John B as he searched for Sarah.

You followed him down to what you could only assume was the boiler room since steam was thick in the air and you took your place by the door as he ventured further down. His desperate cries for Sarah echoed through the room and you dearly wished for a response to be heard, but there was nothing except the sound of his shoes against the floor. Thump, thump, thump and then utter silence until John B utters a name that made it feel as if the floor was pulled away from under your feet.

“Rafe.”

One of your hands finds the doorframe, a poor attempt to steady yourself as you try to figure out if this is a trick played by your grieving mind. You take a few breaths and as the silence is once again interrupted by two raised voices, you follow John B’s path down into the room. The heart in your chest is beating so hard that it feels like you are going to throw up, and it only gets worse the nearer you come. At first, you only see your friend, but then you look past him

and

your

heart

stops.

Rafe Cameron had died in front of your very eyes, so either the gods were playing a nasty cruel joke or you had lost the battle with your mind. You shut your eyes just to open them again, and no matter how many times you did it, he still remained. What happened next was a bit peculiar to you, for weeks you had drowned in grief where sadness was the constant emotion, but as you looked him in the eye and saw that he was very much alive, rage and anger crushed into you with the force of a thousand waves. You stepped toward him, only for an arm to shoot out to stop you, and John B added to his gesture by saying “Don’t”. Laughter bubbled in your throat, for who was he to tell you what you could or could not say to your “dead” ex-boyfriend who seemed to never stop causing you grief.

“Find Sarah.” John B hesitated for a few moments before following your unspoken order to leave you and Rafe alone. It wasn’t surprising considering that his worry for Sarah would always overpower anything else. Once again you looked into Rafe’s blue eyes, remembering a time when you used to stare in them for so long you would see specks of green and grey. Had you searched for those colors now, you would probably have found them. However, you were trying to decipher whatever feeling that was shining in them, was it anger? No, his other features were too soft for that and the hand holding his weapon had gone slack as he watched you. Maybe it was relief? No that was not it either, for why would he be relieved to see you? You were not the one who had died and left the other behind. You stepped even closer to him, the simmering anger inside of your veins made your hands shake and he looked at them briefly as if he wanted to take them in his. Your hands clenched into fists and you watched as his shoulders dropped the tiniest bit, and suddenly you knew exactly what was shining in his eyes.

Love, and sadness. Your heart started to speed up again, and you knew that once you opened your mouth, the anger and grief that had become part of you, would tumble out in words that you would never be able to take back. But he had done something much worse, so he would listen, you would make sure of it. Your lips parted slightly and he must have seen it for his words came first.

“I- fuck I am sorry okay? But I had to do it, you wouldn’t understand but I had to do it, it was the best for everyone.” As he says this you can’t help the sound that slips through your lips, it was supposed to be a laugh but it sounds more like a sob. His eyes flicker between you and everything else in the room as if there was anything in here that could save him for this conversation. You move your hands toward your chest and his eyes watch as you press them hard against your chest, against the heart that won’t stop breaking.

“Best for everyone?” Your voice is the combination of a whisper and a ragged breath “Did you have my best interest in mind when you let me believe you had blown yourself up?” He winces and makes an attempt to say something but you hold up a hand to stop him. “Did it ever occur to you how your little stunt would affect the one person who still, despite everything, loved you?” This time, your voice has started to rise towards something like a scream, and how could you not scream when there is so much sadness inside of you that it felt like just looking at him would turn your body into a pool of water.

“You broke up with me, so don’t start acting like a victim where you aren’t one.” His features are starting to morph into those he carries when anger overcomes him, but you will not back away from this. Your hands are in your hair, pulling at it as if that would help you make sense of this situation. “You broke my heart long before I broke yours.” You can’t help the way your voice breaks or the tears that start falling from your eyes.“You needed and still need help and until you receive that help, you are prone to hurt anyone in your vicinity.” Now it is his turn to drag his hands through his hair and his breaths come faster and faster until you realize that he is starting to hyperventilate. He sinks to the floor and you follow, not sure how to help when it feels like his state is mirroring your own. With cautious movements, you place your hands on his shoulders, and the shaking of his body sends trembles throughout yours. For a while nothing happens, you just sit there with your hands on his body and watch him fall apart. Perhaps you should have been glad that he was suffering, after everything he had done to you he deserved it. But you couldn’t feel anything other than anguish and as a sob escaped his body every restraint you had kept on yourself broke and you hugged him towards your chest. You could never save him, but he clung to you as if you had the power to undo every wrong he had ever done. After a while, he looks up at your tear-streaked face and one of his hands reaches up to cup it. You want to look away because you can see everything in those eyes of his, every regret and every wish he has ever had. His forehead leans towards you and you feel his hot breath against your skin. As you breathe in the scent of cologne and feel his skin against yours, you feel overwhelmed by the fact that he is actually here. You notice that his lips part and for a second you are scared that he is going to kiss you, but he must know that there is a limit to your patience with him so he just whispers words with the promise of what could have been. “I wanted to be good for you.” A small smile takes place on your lips and you close your eyes as you try to restrain the well of emotions inside of you. “I know Rafe, I know.” He breathes out a little, almost as if he is relieved that you are aware that he tried in a world and with a mind constantly working against him. You knew, but you also knew that there was someone else out there for you. Someone who would love you in a way that Rafe would never be able to, in a way that would not send the two of you to the bottom of the ocean. Whoever was out there would make you swim. For so long you had wanted to believe that Rafe was the one, despite all his flaws you would have given anything for him to be your future. It was a relief to know that you could and deserved to have more. But you also knew that you needed to do something before that could happen.

“I will stay-.” Before you could even finish your sentence he whipped his head up to look at you with such hope you never wanted to continue talking. You swallowed hard and forced yourself to go on. “I will stay with you just to make sure you receive the help you need.” His whole body deflated and you had to bite your lip in order not to cry again. Eventually, he nodded and you closed your eyes in relief. You knew that this had to be the right move, no one else would listen to him or make sure he got help, so you needed to be the one to did. Just enough so that you finally could start swimming towards the surface.

[agustdakasuga]

Reflection Of You | Chapter 17

Genre: Historical!AU, Timetraveller!AU/ Different Dimension, Romance

Pairing: SUGA x Reader, Yoongi x Reader

Characters: Normal!Reader, Idol!Suga, King!Yoongi, Guard!Seokjin, Guard!Jungkook, RoyalAdvisor!Namjoon, Servant!Jimin, Servant!Hoseok, Prince!Taehyung

Summary: Confirming you were dating the famous Min Suga of BTS, you knew you were bound to make some enemies. But what you didn’t expect was to be cursed, leading you to meet a cold-hearted, arrogant king that shares the same face as your rapper lover.  

It’s hard for Yoongi to open up. It’s hard for him to show the feelings that he’s been bottling up all those years. But maybe, just maybe, it’s time to let all of them go. 

Seokjin had come to inform you that Yoongi requested your company for dinner in the dining room. He waited for you to freshen up and escorted you and Jimin there. It was like deja vu as you took your seat to wait for Yoongi.

“The great king of Joseon, Min Yoongi, will be making his entrance.” Jungkook announced. Seokjin and Jimin bowed. 

“Long live the king.” They chorused. You remained seated this time, not even standing or bowing to Yoongi. Yoongi entered and stared at your still seated form, a small smile grazing his lips. You will never change and that’s what he liked about you. 

“Still refusing to bow down?” 

“You’ll live long enough, even without my wishes.” You scoffed. Yoongi chuckled and sat down in his spot. He waved at everyone to exit the room, leaving the two of you alone.

“How was gardening?” Yoongi asked as you poured alcohol into his cup. 

“It was so fun! I learnt a lot from the gardener! We planted some seeds and some plants that were already in pots.” You rambled. 

“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.” Yoongi reached out to pat your head. The simple gesture was something he did so often now that it didn’t even seem weird to the both of you anymore. 

“And I didn’t know advisor Namjoon is also an avid gardener. Apparently, he waters the garden plants every day and he even has this huge plum tree!” You continued, even using your arms to try and show how big the tree was. But of course, it was an underestimation. Yoongi watched you with amusement, taking a sip of alcohol. 

“Is he now?” Yoongi asked. Of course, he knew that Namjoon liked plants and did all that but he thought he would entertain you a little. 

“Yeah. Jimin says the plums are sweet when harvested and the plum wine that is made from them is really good. I hope to try it sometime.” You nodded with a hopeful smile. 

“I can get it for you now.” 

“There’s no need-”

“Namjoon!” Yoongi shouted. As if they were listening in on the conversation, Namjoon immediately opened the door with a bow. 

“(y/n) here heard about the plum wine we make from the harvest of plums from your tree. She would like to try some. Fill a bottle for her to have now.” Yoongi said. Namjoon nodded and promptly exited the room. 

“I didn’t mean I needed to try it now, Yoongi. Geez.” You scoffed. Yoongi ignored your comment and continued eating. Namjoon returned with a small ceramic decanter. He bowed and knelt by the side of the table to fill the small cups with the plum wine. 

“Have some.” You said to Namjoon. Namjoon turned to Yoongi, who nodded his head in approval. 

“Thank you.” Namjoon bowed his head as you took the decanter to pour some into a new cup for him. The 3 of you clinked cups before taking a drink. It was sweet and fruity. 

“It’s so good!” You complimented. Namjoon couldn’t help but smile. 

“I’m happy you like it.” He laughed. When he was done, he bowed his head and exited the room. 

“What about you? Did you have a good... meeting?” You asked Yoongi slowly. Yoongi raised an eyebrow at you trying to start small talk with him but he shrugged, being vague with his answer. 

“Whether it was good or bad, I hope you feel happy or relieved that it’s at least over.” You smiled. Yoongi stopped and stared at you. 

“What?” 

“Nothing. Just thinking about something else.” He shook his head and continued eating. You blinked but shrugged and ate as well. Yoongi picked out the bigger pieces of boneless braised meat and placed it onto your plate, surprising you. You looked at the piece of meat as if it was a foreign substance and looked up at him. 

“You seem to always struggle to remove the bones. And you give the boneless meat to the other me. I’ll do the same for you.” He excused. You couldn’t help but laugh as Yoongi acknowledged the ‘other him’. 

“So you acknowledge that there’s another you somewhere out there?” 

“I never said I didn’t. You just don’t tell me much about him, how different or similar he is from me.” He said. 

“What do you want to know?” You asked. Obviously, both Yoongis were rather different but as you got to know the Yoongi in front of you, you do seem to find similarities every now and then. 

“What can you tell me about him?” 

“Hmm... I mean, you look exactly the same, you already know that. You’re both deathly pale and bear resemblance to cats. You both love tangerines and you’re both night people instead of day people. Not that big a fan of sweets...” You listed out. 

“I fail to see how I look like a cat.” Yoongi blinked. It took a long while for your Yoongi to come to terms with the whole ‘lil meow meow’ thing too. 

“Trust me. It’s there. Oh and you both squint like this when you’re focusing on something.” You giggled, mimicking him. 

“You’re finding too much amusement in this.” 

“I don’t think I know you well enough to tell the differences. But my Yoongi... When you first meet him, he just seems cold, guarded and introverted. Yes, he is introverted. But he’s not cold at all.” You said, swallowing your food. 

“He’s guarded because he had been wounded before by the rest of the world. And even when we got together, I realised that he just isn’t one to really show his feelings, or at least verbally. He shows his love and care through his actions. That’s what I liked about him. He was very comfortable to be around and he made me lower my guard too.” You smiled. 

“He sounds like a perfect human.” 

“He’s not, he’s far from it. I am the same. We’ve both come to realise it. Sure, we’ve had our fights and arguments but at the end of the day, we work it out. It takes two hands to clap, right?” You looked up at Yoongi.

“You miss him.” Yoongi stated. 

“Of course. Even before we were together, he was my safety blanket for years.” You said sadly, looking at your food. 

“When I’m sad, he makes me laugh or he cries with me. He worries for me, even when he should be worrying about himself.” Tears blurred your vision. Suddenly, you felt someone pull your head to a chest. 

Yoongi didn’t know what to say. Just like your Yoongi, he wasn’t good with words, he only knew how to show he cared with his actions. 

“Sorry, I digressed.” You said. 

“It’s okay.” Yoongi whispered, stroking the back of your head. He used the end of his sleeve to wipe your tears. Sitting back down, the two of you continued talking as you finished the food. You wanted to ask about Mirae but you knew it was a sensitive topic for Yoongi so you didn’t bring it up. 

“Later, can we walk in the garden?” You asked. 

“That excited about the garden?” Yoongi teased. You flushed, clearing your throat sheepishly. 

“Of course, we can. I can’t wait to see your hard work.” Yoongi finished. That made you feel even more embarrassed. It was like a child pestering her parent to see her artwork. 

“I heard the garden was your mother’s?” You gulped. Yoongi seemed to falter for a few seconds before straightening up. 

“It’s not hers but she did enjoy maintaining it. She worked very closely with the royal gardener to constantly upgrade it to be better. Kind of like what you did today.” Yoongi explained. You nodded your head slowly. 

“Keeping it alive and maintained now is the best I can do for her, even after her death. She would not be pleased with me letting all her hard work go to waste. I’m not really good with plants but I’m glad Namjoon and the gardener take care of it. And now you help maintain it too. My mother would have greatly appreciated that.” Yoongi said. 

“She sounds like an amazing woman.” 

“Hmm.” Yoongi hummed. You mentally scolded yourself, of all topics, why did you have to mention Yoongi’s mother? 

“I felt like I lost the opportunity to get to know her better. My father never let her care for me as a normal mother should. He wanted her to care for him only and that was her flaw, constantly kowtowing to him.” Yoongi continued. 

“I don’t think it’s a flaw.” You said. 

“It’s not a flaw to give up all free will and follow a man, who’s not even loyal to you, like a dog? That you neglect your kid?” Yoongi raised an eyebrow. 

“That’s what you saw, Yoongi. I’m not saying you’re wrong, you could be right but was that how she really felt? Did you ever know her true intentions behind her actions? Maybe she never meant for you to feel neglected. I’m sure you had moments with her where she showered you with love.” You said. 

“Yes, I had my moments with her. But they were always short lived because my father ruined it. Every time I tried to tell myself she actually loves me, she proves me wrong.” Yoongi’s fists shook. 

“What if she was protecting you?” You asked. 

CLANG! 

Yoongi stood up with such force that the low table of bowls and cutlery flipped over, spilling food remnants all over the floor. You stared at the mess in shock, looking up at Yoongi. He breathed heavily, standing over you. 

“Leave.” He warned. 

“I’m sorry, Yoongi. I shouldn’t have-” 

“I don’t want your apologies. I said leave.” His eyes flashed anger as he shook. You immediately scrambled to your feet and pulled the door open. 

“(y/n) nim!” Jimin rushed to you. They had all heard the loud clash but were too afraid of entering the room. You stared at Jimin, lips pressed into a firm line. Turning away from him, you ran to your room. 

“(y/n) nim!” Jimin ran after you, leaving Hoseok, Seokjin, Jungkook and Namjoon. Usually, you would have fought back or argued with him but seeing the resentment and anger in Yoongi’s eyes, you knew he was warning you to leave before his temper took over so you decided to make a break for it. You were actually afraid he would hurt you. 

“J-Jeonha-” The 4 that remained bowed but all they felt was the silk of their king’s robes brushing against them as he exited the dining room. 

“(y/n) nim.” Jimin stood outside your door, knocking softly. He could hear the soft echoes of your sobs. It was like everything was back to the way it was on day 1 when you arrived. 

“I-I just n-need to catch m-my b-breath.” You tried to sound okay to Jimin, who didn’t believe you one bit. 

“Can I come in?” He asked softly. 

“I’d r-rather you n-not.” You croaked from your dark corner in the room. Jimin sighed. He didn’t want to leave your side, he wanted to make sure that you weren’t hurt, he wanted to comfort you and stop your cries. However, he knew that he shouldn’t force you too.

“Please.” He tried for the last time. 

“Come.” Your voice was soft but he heard it. Slowly the door creaked open and Jimin came in to see your huddled figure. Immediately, he went to help you up and led you to the bed to lie down.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for you.” Jimin whispered. You shook your head, you didn’t want him to feel guilty.

“It’s not your fault. It’s all mine. I shouldn’t have pushed him.” You said.

“What happened?”

“I brought up his mother. And it just escalated too fast.” You explained, regret written all over your face. Jimin softened as your eyes casted down with guilt. He took a clean handkerchief from the cupboard and gently wipe your face of its tears. He didn’t interrupt you and instead continued to listen as you explained what happened in the room.

“Jeonha’s relationship with his mother was always a touchy subject for him. But you didn’t know that.” Jimin spoke. 

“But I knew he was getting angry and uncomfortable. And yet, I continued to question him and doubt his feelings, the feelings he had been bottling up since he was a child.” You said. 

“That’s one of the reasons he resents Taehyung gun.” Jimin explained. 

“What do you mean?” 

“You know how Taehyung gun’s mother is. She was bubbly, kind and loving to Taehyung. She didn’t care that he wasn’t crown prince, he was just her son to her. Jeonha hated seeing them together.” Jimin started. 

“Jeonha wasn’t wrong in a sense... They did share their moments, like I said, they would be in the garden together. But all it took was for the king to call her and she would just leave jeonha there to stay with him. To jeonha, who was just a child, that was betrayal. Countless times.” Jimin explained. 

“And all I did was doubt him.” 

“Not true. You were right too. Jeonha didn’t see the fear in his mother’s eyes. She did try to speak up but what good comes out of defying the king. The king who can hurt your child, the crown prince.” Jimin smiled sadly. 

“How do you know all this Jimin? Aren’t you about the same age as Yoongi?” You tilted your head. 

“My mother worked as one of the queen consort’s servants before me. She saw everything and comforted the queen consort when she was upset.” 

“So Yoongi’s mother was trying to protect Yoongi...” 

“Yes. The king was very obsessed with the queen consort. He didn’t want to let anyone else her, even his own child. Yes, he had a harem of concubines but he always kept her by his side and never wanted her away for too long. She was someone special to him and he wanted her to only look at him. He was willing to hurt anyone who took her away, jeonha included.” Jimin said. 

“Jeonha grew up hating his mother. But a part of him still held to the few memories he had of her. The garden, for example. His mother is also the reason jeonha doesn’t believe in love.” He continued.

“That’s horrible. He must have felt so much hurt and felt all alone.” You hung your head down. 

“But I think you staying by his side has changed him.” Jimin lifted your head up with his finger. You stared at him in confusion. He giggled and just wiped your remaining tears. 

“Let’s get you washed up.” He helped you stand up and led you to the bathroom. You brushed your teeth and he combed your hair, helping you change out of your hanbok and into sleepwear. 

“Wait, Jimin. What did you mean by-”

“Get some rest, (y/n) nim. I’ll see you when the sun rises.” He smiled softly after tucking you into bed. 

“Goodnight, Jimin.” You yawned. Jimin exited your room. He stared at your door for a few seconds before he finally was able to turn and walk away.

-

Yoongi stood in his garden, his anger was slowly starting to dissipate. He scoffed, this dinner was supposed to be relaxing and a chance for him to get to know more about where you come from, ending with the both of you taking a walk in the garden with you showing him your new plants and flowers proudly. 

But you just had to bring his mother up.

“You always ruin everything.” He said to no one in particular. Well, he was referencing his mother, who wasn’t even alive anymore. 

“Why does it always have to end up this way?” Yoongi was now asking himself. He clenched his fists as the resentment for his mother bubbled within him. 

However, what caused his anger to fade was that he couldn’t ignore the memory of your eyes and how much fear was in them. As if you were actually afraid that he was going to hurt you. 

“I’m sorry, Yoongi. I shouldn’t have-” 

You actually apologised to him. He had expected you to argue back or stand against him but all you did was back away with fear and leave as you are told. What was happening to him? There was a dull ache in his chest that was never there before. When you spoke of your Yoongi, why did a new determination to prove that he was the better Yoongi appear? 

Yoongi sighed for the nth time. He lifted his head and stared at your window, which was now closed. Were you asleep? Or were you crying? 

“I swear.” Yoongi cursed himself. He subconsciously started walking and now found himself standing before your door. Gently, he knocked but there was no reply. He quietly opened the door to see you asleep. 

“Yoongi...” You called in your sleep. 

“I’m here.” Yoongi whispered. He honestly didn’t know if you were calling him or the other Yoongi but he was going to assume it was him you were calling out to in your sleep. 

“Just let me...” He didn’t know what came over him but soon, Yoongi was in your bed, holding you close to him. 

“What?” Your eyes shot open in shock, ready to kick the intruder in your bed. But looking down, you saw the locks of blonde. His face pressed into your abdomen as he held you tightly. You felt his tears wetting your night robe and the skin beneath. 

“She told me she loved me. But she never came back.” 

“I’m sorry, Yoongi.” You said softly, running your fingers through his locks. Even though Yoongi was slowly letting his guard down around you, this was the first time he let all his walls down. 

“I’ll never hurt you.” Yoongi looked up at you, moving up so your eyes met at the same level. 

“I’ll never hurt you. I promise.” He repeated, cupping your cheek. 

“Please don’t be afraid of me. Please.” He cried. You still didn’t respond but you did wipe his tears, drawing his head to your chest as you comforted him. Now you really saw it. You saw Yoongi as a child that was hurt by the world and just wanted someone to be there for him and tell him that he is loved.

~~

Series Masterlist

Tag list 1

@veronawrites​ @diamonddia-mond​ @georgie-me-myself-i​ @nlost21​ @aqueenieme​ @nello-rie​ @ireallylikeyourwriting​ @imascreamerbabymakemeamute​ @kimahnjung98​ @kimmieloveswho​ @aianloveseven​ @pb-n-juju​ @myggummy​ @baby-noodles​ @bt21chim​ @cait-with-luv​ @bbgniecyy​ @ggukkieland​ @awsome-small-k​ @huhuehuey​ @yeontanismypresident​ @strangeobjectmaker​ @mariana-mmtz​ @multicolourunicorn​ @zae007live​ @yiyi4657​ @writingdust​ @hqtetsurou​ @fangirl125reader​ @saveme-imfine​ @untamedgrape​ @simplymemyself​ @cheonsa-unnie​ @skyys-universe @carolinexkpop @vishakhas-world @tinyoonsblog @mamemimoimoi @iamsherlocked271 @samararose21 @cherry-suna

Tag list 2

@jinscharms​ @crewzie-chan​ @bunzom​ @socoldasice​​ @raemikaelson​ @kaithezaftig​ @yoonieebear @byeversley @ifellinluvwithdorks​ @lunasilver8​ @min-tata​ @someonekeepstakingmyusernames​ @ximenaxd14​​ @justbangtanthingz​ @danny-boy27​ 

[teenwolffan-with-nolife]

Hidden Truths

Word Count: 1,756

Characters: Derek Hale, Reader, OC Character

Pairings: Derek Hale x Reader (gender!netural)

Warnings: mentions of past abuse, flashbacks of past-abuse, slight mentions/hints of sexual assault, angst, very small fluff

A/N: i wouldn’t consider this a dark!fic, but it can possibly be triggering to some, so be careful if you choose to reader

A/N 2: 200th fic!!! Thank you all for supporting me and i forgot to say it but thank you so much for 1.8k! You guys literally help me so much i love you all! Requests are open, I’ll try to do as many as I can!

A/N 3: okay so I started this yesterday but wrote the majority of it today, I’ve been up for nearly 24 hours, all mistakes are my own, and I couldn’t come up with a title... hopefully its not complete BS? anyways ily all

Masterlist

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” the door slammed shut behind him, the two of you entering the house.

You kept your eye contact to the floor, trying to avoid him.

“You embarrassed me in front of my friends,” his jaw was clenched, anger was seething from him, you could feel it from across the room.

“I'm sorry-”

“Sorry can’t go back in time and fix it. I've had just about enough of you,” your jaw clenched, tears slipping down your cheek. Your heart was beating in the back of your head.

You gasped softly, your eyes opening as you jumped up, looking around the room anxiously.

It’s okay, you’re safe

You let out a shaky breath, before looking down at Derek’s sleeping figure. His hands were on your waist, while you laid back down, stroking his cheek gently.

You looked at the clock, seeing it was nearly 8 as you sighed before you shook him gently.

“Good morning,” you whispered.

He kept his eyes close, pulling you in slightly while a small smile grew on your face.

“Derek, it’s almost 8,” you said.

“We don’t have anything important today,” he argued.

“Come on!” you pulled on his arm while he groaned, before sitting up.

“I’m up now,” he raised an eyebrow.

“I can see that,” you smiled.

He scoffed, before pressing his lips against yours.

“Good morning Ms. (Y/L/N),” you rested your forehead against his.

“Oh, stop calling me that,” you sighed.

“So, about 1,000 people can call you that but I can’t?” 

“Not on weekends and definitely not at 7:43 in the morning,” you heard Derek groan again, looking at the clock.

“Okay, you know what? Waking up early, we can start moving your stuff in here, yeah?” you nodded softly before Derek pressed a kiss against your cheek.

“I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you too,” he got out of bed, before reaching for your hand.

“Will you join me in the shower?” he raised an eyebrow.

You nodded your head, before hearing your phone ringing.

“I’ll be there in one minute,” he nodded, walking into the bathroom while you answered your phone.

“Mom? Why are you awake, it’s not even 8,” you yawned slightly, before pushing yourself to your feet.

Her breathing was uneven on the other line as you frowned, tensing slightly.

“Mom?” you repeated.

“How would you react if I said…” 

“Said what, Mom? You're scaring me.”

“What if I told you a certain someone got out of jail,” you felt your heart stop. You knew what she meant, you knew who she was talking about. 

You felt your breath get hitched in your throat before you swallowed.

“Are you there?”

“Y-Yeah… What do you mean got out of jail? How? He’s supposed to be locked up for 3 more years,” you could feel your heart rate increasing in your chest, while you tried to control your emotions.

“Let him out early, on good behavior.”

“That’s bullshit, Mom.”

“Exactly what I said. Promise me you’ll stay safe,” you nodded before remembering she couldn't see you.

“I promise, Mom,” she hung up the call before you felt your chest ache slightly, feeling fear rising in your bones.

You got a restraining order years ago, but you didn’t think he would care. 

Everything was finally good for you, it took nearly 7 years, but you moved on. You had been with Derek for one whole year, there was no one else you’d ever felt like that about.

He never scared you, not even with being a werewolf. He always showed he cared about you, the two of you barely fought with each other.

Memories began rushing to your head as you sighed, running your fingers through your hair.

You closed your eyes, feeling a tear slip down before you wiped it away.

“Hey, you coming?” you heard Derek call.

“Yeah, be right there!” you quickly wiped away your tears, taking a shaky breath.

You can do this, it’s gonna be okay 

---

“Are you okay?”

You snapped out of your daydream state, clearing your throat before giving a small smile to Derek.

“I’m fine, why?” you asked softly.

“You've been quiet today. Is everything okay at home?” he stroked your hand softly, placing a box on the floor as you turned to face him.

“Yeah, my mom just wanted to check in on us,” you felt guilty for lying to Derek, but you weren't ready for the truth. Not yet.

You knew you needed to talk about it soon, Derek didn't hide things from you, no matter how bad.

“Okay… you know you can tell me anything, right?” you nodded, before pressing a small kiss to his cheek.

“I know. Thank you,” he put his arm on your waist, before pulling you to your couch.

“There’s only a few boxes left. You should sit down for a minute, I’ll grab the last of your stuff,” Derek said.

“Oh, you don't-”

“It’s okay. I want to,” he pressed a small kiss to your lips, before walking away.

A smile appeared on your face, before you felt a sadness take over you. 

You quickly shot your mom a text, asking if anything had happened, or if she knew where your ex was.

You sat on the couch,  finding it nearly impossible to sit still.

It’s okay, I have Derek 

---

“Hey,” you tensed slightly, the sting of your bruised eye was blocking all your other senses, you couldn't hear him coming in.

You stood up from the bed, clenched your jaw.

“I wanted to apologize,”  you could smell the stench of alcohol reeking from him, he only ever talked like this when he was drunk.

“It’s okay,” you shook your head.

“It’s my fault, really. I didn't tell you what not to talk about, I thought you would've been smarter to piece it together,” you felt a pang in your chest as you remained stiff.

He stumbled over his feet, walking to you before pressing his lips against yours.

You backed away, shaking your head.

“It’s okay,” you said again.

“Come on,” his hand traveled to your waist, pulling you gently to the bed.

“I’m not in the mood right now,” you said softly.

“Shh,” you felt tears rush to your eyes, knowing what he would do. You couldn't say no.

You nodded softly, seeing a smirk on his face before he directed you to the bed.

You walked outside of your apartment building, taking a deep breath as you rubbed the back of your neck.

Fuck

You paced around, before biting your nail,  feeling your heart racing. You couldn't calm down, you felt sick.

You looked around anxiously, not exactly sure what you were looking for. You didn't know how long he was out for, but there was no way he would know you were in Beacon Hills.

You heard footsteps behind you, instantly tensing up.

“(Y/N/N),” Derek put his hand on your shoulder as you jumped slightly, before turning to face him.

“What’s wrong? What happened?” you saw Derek tense as you shook your head, your vision getting diverted to something else.

You could hear your heart beating in your ears, hearing Derek’s words from afar.

“We don’t have to do this, you don't have to move into the loft,” he said softly.

“What? N-No, that’s not-” you shook your head.

“You’ve been acting differently all day. If you don't want to do this, you know we don’t have to,” Derek put his hands on both sides of your face, wiping away a tear you didn't know you had.

“No, that’s not why. I’m sorry, it’s just-” you paused, seeing a familiar car parked across the street as you let out a shaky breath, putting your hand over your mouth.

“(Y/N/N), hey,” you saw a worried look on Derek’s face, while he looked into your eyes.

“Can we go back to the loft?” your voice broke slightly before Derek nodded softly.

“Yeah, of course. Come on,” he held your hand while leading you into his car before the two of you drove off.

---

“Here,” Derek wrapped a blanket around you, while you sat on the couch, your eyes bloodshot.

“I’m sorry for all of this,” you whispered.

“You didn't do anything wrong. Just, please talk to me,” you nodded.

Derek stroked your hand softly, you realized you were shaking.

“Derek… a few years ago, I had this… really bad…” you paused, tears rushing to your eyes as you sniffled, before letting out a shaky exhale.

“H-He went to jail, but then he got out,” your voice broke as you saw Derek tense.

“That's why my mom called me this morning, she was telling me. I saw his car when we were at my apartment, a-and I don't know how he found me, or-” you stopped yourself, before Derek wrapped his arms around you tightly.

You felt a sob erupt from your chest as you buried yourself in his arms.

“I’m sorry I didn't tell you before, I’m so sorry I lied to you,” you cried.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, (Y/N). Look,” he wiped your tears, looking into your eyes as you looked back at him.

“You don't need to apologize. You didn't do anything wrong. I still love you, no matter what and I’m here with you through this. Do you have a restraining order or anything?” Derek started.

You nodded softly.

“Okay, that’s good. I’m not leaving your sight, I guess we’ll have to get used to spending every second of every day with each other. He is a shitty person, you deserved better and I can't believe you… you deserve the world. We're gonna do this, together. I’m right here for you,” you let out a shaky breath before Derek pressed his lips against your forehead.

“I’m scared,” you cried softly.

“It's gonna be okay, (Y/N/N),” he held you tightly, as you rested your head on his chest.

He continued to caress your arm, keeping you calm.

---

After waiting a few minutes after you fell asleep, Derek lifted you gently, placing you in the bed before he clenched his jaw, his eyes bloodshot, filled with anger and tears.

The thought of anyone even looking at you the wrong way made him mad, he couldn't imagine what happened. All he knew was that he loved you, and he was there for you.

He put his jacket on, grabbing his keys before exiting the loft. 

For (Y/N)

Taglist:

@bellabadacadabra​

@sonnydoesrandomshit​

@aprilfire18​

@confuscita​

@teen-wolf-obsessed4life​

@eunoia-kth​

@shortimaginewriter​

@linkpk88​

@lokisgoldscepter​

@mrs-scottmccall​

@thetiny-hufflepuff​

@noncannonships​

[maxemilianverstappen]

Half of this fandom every fucking day of every goddamn week, tirelessly, on and on:

1) You'd think I am quite decent until you'd see me sending anons because I don't have the spine to spew hate at people's face unless I hide behind anonymity.

2) I am a huge supporter of "love and peace" in the fandom space, but it doesn't exist for the ones I don't like to the point of me having o/rgasms while grouphating on those rotten sods. Damn them.

3) Any form of criticism of my fav will be dealt with hate anons, mocking, outright name calling in the tags even though I know deep down that it is valid and the criticism was done in a polite way.

4) I can't stand when some people's voice's are louder than mine. So, I have to be the victim in every possible chance and I have to get all the brownie points of being a woke elite of this fandom until having a normal discussion with me is impossible because how dare people can't see I and my group are the oppressed and overlooked ones.

5) My poor meow meow, who is filthy rich and who is privileged as fuck, can stay silent and enjoy himself as I defend his honor on the internets against people I don't know but I hate their very bones simply because they don't like my poor meow meow.

6) Have I told you how my meow meow needs my godly defense against these faceless internet people? Now I have.

7) I have every right to automatically assume that you are a racist, an ableist, a/an *insert whatever negative shit comes to your mind here* simply because you like a particular driver that I hate with the force of a million suns. Yes.

8) As a side note to the above, I see no fault in watering down the meanings of words like "racist, ableist, homophobic" and such as long as I can use them as labels to categorize the people that I hate even though I have no evidence of them being such other than knowing that they support that one particular nasty hoe of a driver.

9) Hating a particular driver is a part of my personality and is a character trait i am proud to display in my bio.

10) I am aware I turned my fandom presence into simply being here to spew hate upon people on the internets and I am enjoying it so much! I feel I belong to my group more the more I post ugly hot takes and unsolicited opinions.

11) I love posting hate on the normal tags, because in the anti tags no one sees me other than my hate mates and by God I love the attention I get from the people I hate and I enjoy angering them.

12) But anyone posting any criticism on my fav's tag can burn in hell and I will tell my friends and we'll send them hate Anons until they feel miserable.

13) My fav is always right and while yours is the scum of the earth, my fav can make mistakes, can say problematic stuff, can post shit takes about the world issues, because they never mean bad and they will surely learn from their mistakes and we all give them a chance to grow up as a person, because they are my fav.

14) My fav can stay silent and is not responsible while us his fans rain abuse, racist slurs, death threats upon anyone we see as being against us. But your fav is 100% responsible of all the nasty his fans say and do. Because I hate them.

15) In the same vein of 13 and 14, if you are the fan of a particular driver, it means you are 100% standing behind all his fallacies and support and condone those fallacies and are also responsible of all his wrong doings and sayings. Yes, you are his mom.

16) I don't care about the mental and physical health of the others unless they are my fav. But by God, I love preaching people about it because they are insensitive savages who need to learn.

17) It is alright to use racist and misogynistic speech against people as long as it is not my fav. But I fucking love being the advocate of human rights and yada yada, you know all that stuff.

18) I feel so at peace with all the hate I have inside of me and spew it regularly on my socials for everyone to see, because I don't see the objects of my hate as human beings and they 1000% deserve all the shit thrown at them.

19) It is alright to dehumanize the ones I hate. I don't see them as myself, as a normal human being. Because it helps me feel alright about wanting to do inhumane stuff to them or wishing them to have a deadly crash. Thanks for the feeling of detachment from how horrid my wishes are.

20) Body shaming and objectification is hilarious and I am so funny for coming up all these jokes, because that guy can burn in hell.

21) Oh, I love spreading misinformation, too. I love taking a part of a quote out of its context and posting it on my socials in a way others can misinterpret it and rain more abuse on the owner of the quote. And then ignore everyone who points the real context, because it doesn't fit my agenda and I don't care *flips hair*

22) I reserve the rights to reflect all these nasty stuff that I am doing upon the the other party and act as if they are the ones who are doing this and not me and continue my righteous search for justice and peace.

23) And we are the best and you all are the scum and the world will be a better place when you're all gone. Peace out, fuckers ✌️

[teklarn]

𝔂𝓸𝓾'𝓻𝓮 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓶𝔂 𝓫𝓸𝔂𝓯𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓭 - 𝓴. 𝓫𝓪𝓴𝓾𝓰𝓸𝓾 (𝓅𝓉. 𝟥)

character(s): katsuki bakugou x gn!reader (x eijirou kirishima) 

a/n: ok but like ty for all the notes on my last post??? i get so excited whenever there’s a new notification. ALSO, the best time for me to accept requests is from now to sept. 5! i’m currently on summer break, so i will have plenty of time to write from now until then. 

𝕣𝕖𝕓𝕝𝕠𝕘𝕤 𝕒𝕣𝕖 𝕘𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕥𝕝𝕪 𝕒𝕡𝕡𝕣𝕖𝕔𝕚𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕕!!

summary: bakugou x gn!reader. they have feelings for one another but have no idea how to express them, however y/n has someone pining for their attention. 

genre: angst

warnings: mutual pining, cursing, aged-up to third years, bit of a love triangle, romantic tension, one-sided pining, i gave the reader a quirk, kirishima gets jealous EHWJEH

word count: 2031

lol wow things are finally beginning to pick up heehee

please excuse any typos! i edit to the best of my abilities, but it’s easy to miss lost of things 

part 1, part 2 , part 4 

- - - 

you dabbed bakugou’s nose. he winced as you tapped it. “sorry,” you breathed out, switching the tissue in your hand for a clean wipe. 

“i’m fine, dumbass.” 

“then why’d you ask for my help?” you teased, wiping at the blood on his upper lip. 

his cheeks dusted with red, eyes averting to the side. you smiled softly, victorious in his silence. 

nighttime was settling in nicely, the sun bleeding orange into the clouds. 

“look back at me,” you said. gently, you took his bruised jaw in your fingers, adjusting his head so he was facing you. you brushed your fingers along his swelling cheekbone. purple blossomed beneath bakugou’s pale skin. “kirishima was pretty rough out there, huh?’ 

“i’m proud of the guy.” 

you smiled, tilting your head. “you? proud of someone? really?” 

he chuckled. “knock it off, dumbass.” a grin spread across his face, however it was gone when the pain hit. he winced, trying to ignore the sting his smile brought with it. 

you let out a laugh. “just relax, bakugou.” you resumed dabbing away at the excess blood on his face. there were flecks of dirt scattered over his forehead. 

he caught your wrist in one of his soft, large hands. 

your smile faded, and you swallowed, pushing down the rising emotions fluttering into your chest. “yes?” you responded to the silent question his eyes were asking. 

his grip on your wrist loosened, and he let go, letting his arm fall back to his side. 

“everything okay?” 

he didn’t break eye contact as he grunted a reply. “mhm.” 

“alright. i’ll be right back, okay?” 

“‘kay,” he said. 

you stood with a groan, knees sore from all the training you’d been doing lately. you gently shut the bathroom door behind you and rinsed the bits of dirt off the towel, scrubbing away any imperfections stuck between the fibers of the fabric. 

your cheeks were boiling with heat as the ghost of his touch on your wrist lingered. what was that? did he mean to tell you something? 

you wrung out the newly washed cloth and returned to your seat across from bakugou. 

bakugou’s eyes flickered as you began scrubbing the dirk from his forehead. 

“ah,” he gasped out. 

“you’ve gotta stop wincing, bakugou,” you teased. “you’re making me think i’m doing something wrong.” 

“you’ve gotta stop being so rough, y/n.” he took your wrists and pried them away from his face. 

you set the towel down on the table, letting it rest on a paper towel so the excess water could drain out. 

“well, i think the issue is that you haven’t let me set your nose properly.” 

bakugou squinted, unsure. “alright.” he spread his legs, leaning forwards to make your job easier. “do as you wish, y/n.” his voice dropped, eyelids lowering seductively. 

the heat returned to your cheeks, flushing out your confidence from before. instead of replying with an equally snarky comment, you took his face in your hands. “this is going to hurt.” 

“not so much if it’s you.” 

you scoffed. “are you flirting with me, katsuki bakugou?” 

his lips quirked up—just a tiny bit. “stop dreaming, y/n.” 

you ignored the comment and traced your fingers over the bridge of his nose. “on three?” 

he nodded. 

“one—” you cracked the bone into place. 

“ah, shit!” bakugou recoiled back, covering his nose with his hands. “damn brat.” 

“it would have hurt more if you knew it was coming.” you shrugged innocently. 

“at least i would have been prepared.” 

“whatever you say.” you gestured for him to come back to his previous position, and bakugou did as instructed, hands dropping from his face as your hands came back around to cup his cheeks. 

being recovery girl’s grandchild had its benefits. for example, an easy way to get into yuuei off of recommendations. while your quirk wasn’t usually one people would associate with fighting, it came with unexpected pros with how it developed. 

you’d earned the ability not only to heal but to ruin as well. using your quirk, honing it properly, you could twist someone inside out with ease, however, healing was something you were more skilled with. 

a green glow was being emitted from your palms, white orbs flowing into the air and landing on bakugou’s skin. you could tell, under his skin, the bone was fixing itself, beginning to reshape into the flat bridge. 

bakugou sniffed. 

“hold still,” you said. 

“does your healing always make your patients itchy?” 

“it’s just your body healing. stop moving.” the green light receded into your palms. 

you met bakugou’s eyes as you pulled your hands away. you were leaning closer than necessary, out of your seat, knees slightly bent. you could tell his hands were shaking just a bit as they trailed down your arms, starting from your fingertips which were still hovering around his face. 

his hands found their way to your waist. bakugou tugged you closer. barely an inch closer, but it felt like the two of you were inseparable at the moment. 

“y/n?” 

you jumped, and bakugou’s hands fell back to the sides of the seat he was in. you swallowed as kirishima popped up at the doorway. 

you wiped your palms on your shirt, nodding for kirishima to enter. “yes?” 

the redhead walked in warily, hands up and pace slow. “i hope i’m not...interrupting anything. am i?” 

you shook your head. “not at all. we were, um. we were just finishing up.” you picked up the cloth intended for wiping bakugou’s face. “do you think you could finish up by yourself?” 

he took the cloth from your hands. “yeah, sure.” he pushed himself up and was out of your room, waving his thanks. “i’ll pay you back so i don’t owe your ass, got it, y/n?” 

“Alright.” 

bakugou shut the door behind him, leaving you and kirishima alone. 

“so, what was that about?” 

your eyes flew wide. “what was what?” 

“don’t act oblivious, y/n. you two looked at each other like you hung the moon in the sky.” 

you bit your lip, hiding the smile that was brought about upon reminiscing about the recent seen. “it wasn’t anything, kirishima. don’t worry about it.”

“i’m worrying. you know bakugou.” 

“that’s something you’d say about someone with dating experience, and a bad reputation regarding it. bakugou is—” 

“just like every other guy out there? it’s the twenty-first century. there are not many decent people left out here. do you really think he’s any different?” 

“well,” you said, shaking your head, “personally, i see he’s changed.” 

“two years isn’t going to erase all the past shit he’s done.” 

“there’s a thing called forgiveness.” you quirked an eyebrow at him, tilting your head down as you began cleaning up. “plus, it wasn’t necessarily his fault. we can both agree that hero society created toxic standards for all aspiring pros.” 

kirishima clenched his fists. “he’s bad for you.” 

you tossed out a few wipes into the garbage. “sorry?” 

“he’s...not good for you.” 

“i appreciate you thinking nobody is good enough for me, but at the end of the day-” 

unknowingly, kirishima was hardening his fingertips. his nails punctured the soft skin of his palms. “i don’t mean he’s not good enough for you, but that’s another truth, too. he’s just not good for you.” 

you turned, smiling brightly. “and since when did you know what was good for me?” you laughed, eyes closed. “why are you trying to dictate my decisions-” 

when you opened your eyes, you found kirishima standing closer, brows furrowed angrily.

your expression lowered into something angry. “what’s the matter?” 

“i just...i can’t.” 

“can’t what?” 

kirishima was one to be slow to anger. he always had been. you can’t recall a time you saw him angry or pissed except for when bakugou had been kidnapped by the league of villains. 

“kirishima,” you scoffed, “are you genuinely pissed over this? what? is this because i got mad at you because i scolded you for breaking bakugou’s nose? if anything, i don’t think i was wrong for-” 

“that’s not it. that...that isn’t it, y/n.” he stepped towards you. kirishima closed the gap between you both, pressing your back against the wall, trapping you there between his arms. “that isn’t it at all, y/n.” 

you swallowed. “then what is it, kirishima?” his eyes met yours, serious and stern. 

your chest tingled. 

he brought his fingers to your chin, angling your face with ease to get a better look at you. “call me eijirou.” 

“what?” 

“just once. please.” 

“why-” 

“once.”

“...what is it, eijirou?” 

the pause felt like an eternity. “it’s you, y/n.” 

“it’s...me? what about me? did i do something wrong?” 

he chuckled softly, but there was no humor in his longing smile as he stared down. “you’re so oblivious.” 

you could hear his heart beating, getting faster with every sentence he pushed out. 

“you’re so clueless, y/n. it’s kind of pissing me off.” 

“what am i doing to piss you off?” you snapped. 

he tongued the inside of his cheek. “like i said.” he flashed you an award-winning grin. “clueless.” kirishima pushed himself off the wall and left the room, the door shutting hard, but not slamming shut. 

you were left breathless, the hint of his cologne still lingering in the space before you. 

you’d avoided kirishima and bakugou for the rest of the night. 

- 

what kirishima had wanted to say was nothing like what he said, but he knew everything would come out all wrong if he’d try to say anything. 

his mind would have jumbled all his words, and he’d look like a crazy, insane lover. 

bakugou wasn’t bad for you. not at all. you two were perfect for each other. you both had thick skin for silly rebuttals towards one another. you brought out the fun side of the blonde, and he worked you to your best. 

kirishima was just your best friend. he hated to be the one who had fallen with nothing to soften the blow that was surely coming soon. 

his ears burned nearly as red as his hair. a shudder passed down his back, the feeling of your jaw pressed between his thumb and index finger still imprinted there. 

“i can’t fucking stand to see you around him.” 

kirishima made his way to the common room, finding bakugou looking for snacks there. kirishima scoffed as his friend emerged with an apple in hand. 

it was not like he hated bakugou. not at all. he didn’t think that pining for the same girl would ruin their friendship. he was just angry that you chose him. 

kirishima respected your decisions. he wouldn’t ever try to get in the way of anything if you and bakugou made that kind of decision. he just wanted to be near you. 

perhaps he should leave the situation alone. leave you alone and just forget about how his feelings were nagging at him every day. 

he should forget how you were the first thing on his mind every morning, and the thing he thought about when he fell asleep. 

you were everywhere. should he forget that too? 

- 

bakugou tossed his apple into the air. he clapped his friend on the back, taking a bite out. “go to sleep, idiot.” 

“don’t call me that.” 

bakugou turned, startled that kirishima wasn’t taking bakugou’s shit today. “you good?” 

“i’m fine, but i’m not an idiot.” 

bakugou’s body tightened. “alright.” 

the pair stood awkwardly for a moment before kirishima sucked in a sudden breath. “what is y/n to you?” he asked. 

bakugou raised an eyebrow. “what?” 

“they’re obviously something to you.” 

“listen, they were just helping me out. didn’t think you’d get offended from them fixing my broken ass nose.” 

“that’s not what i mean. i walked in on you two, and you were about to—” 

“i wasn’t going to do jackshit.” bakugou tossed his apple away, too angry to eat anything anymore. 

“yes. don’t lie to me.” 

“i’m not lying. where is all of this coming from?” 

kirishima huffed out a frustrated breath. he shouldered past bakugou. kirishima uttered words he hated himself for saying. “leave me alone.”

- - -

tag(s): if u want to be tagged in any continued fic of mine, pls let me know! i don’t have a taglist, but please @ me and ask to be on the taglist! thank u <33 

@heizenka 

@insomniac-nerd-posts-things

[vrishchikawrites]

Some Nie Huaisang and Wei Wuxian friendship please?

Like wwx was the first person to understand that Nie Huaisang was a "useless" young master only on purpose.

You can choose if :

Post cannon?

Cannon divergence?

Cannon divergence: where he's a better friend so he makes him joint he Nie clan? Or something? who knows?

You can also choose if Lan Wangji and Nie Huaisang are friends.

(Imagine NHS-WWX-LWJ are buddies since cloud recesses days and go forth, lol. Canon divergence from the point of JC denouncing WWX)

“Listen to me for once!”

Nie Huaisang didn't mean to shout, not really. It is never a good idea to shout at his da-ge because it only provokes anger in return. But Wei-xiong is in danger and no one is helping. Nie Huaisang may be a useless cultivator in many people’s eyes but he refuses to be a useless friend.

The desperation in his stone catches da-ge’s attention and his older brother looks at him with a severe frown, “That boy is cultivating the ghostly path, Huaisang! Even his sect leader distrusts him!”

“Exactly! Da-ge, I’m not stupid, no matter how much you like to believe I am-”

“I don’t!”

Huaisang ignores him, “I know Wei-xiong. He may be mischievous but he’s not evil. If you don’t believe me, ask Lan Wangji! You can trust his word, yes? If you can’t trust your own brother’s.”

“Watch your tone,” Nie Mingjue growls, “You have earned every bit of my suspicion, Huaisang. Don’t pretend otherwise.” Huaisang winces, “I’m not dismissing your concerns but I need more than just your instincts to intervene. Do you have anything more than ‘i know him, da-ge’?” His brother asks and arches a brow.

Huaisang takes a deep breath and collects his thoughts. Hundreds of little observations, pieces of a puzzle too scattered, swirl around in his mind. He has held these pieces close to this heart for years, knowing that it would’ve been disastrous to reveal them during the war. But Nie Huiasang can no longer afford to be silent. Every time he hears someone spitting out his best friend’s name like a curse, something in him burns.

Wei Wuxian is so genuinely good-natured, he will accept everyone as they are. Wei Wuxian is always willing to step between an enemy and a friend, ready to take the blow of them.

There are few people in cultivation as honorable and compassionate as Wei-xiong and Nie Huaisang doesn’t want to see that light diminish.

Da-ge is silent, as though sensing Huaisang’s turmoil.

He straightens and tucks his fan away, meeting his older brother’s gaze head-on, without hesitation. That is enough for da-ge to frown and gesture towards an empty seat. Huaisang quickly goes about making tea as he speaks, “Please be patient with me, da-ge,” He begs, “Let me explain the full picture so you can see what I see. All of this may seem like speculation, but I have proof, circumstantial, but proof nonetheless.”

Nie Mingjue’s expression is now serious and placid, like he’s fully willing to listen to what his brother has to say.

“You… you don’t know, Wei-xiong. He cherished his cultivation, da-ge,” He explains, “It is no accident or act of fate that he was so good at it - good enough to even challenge Lan Wangji. He did the work to get there; he was brilliant but he was also incredibly hardworking. His cultivation was the result of years of refinement. Suibian was his constant companion and he wielded it like it was his soul.”

His brother is still because he’s not stupid.

“Is it not strange that we hear rumors of Wei Wuxian being captured by Wen Chao- by Wen Zhuliu - and see him return with a new cultivation that doesn’t require a Golden Core?”

His da-ge is definitely paying attention now.

“But is it not stranger that the Wens claim they had taken Jiang Wanyin’s core, only for Jiang-zongzhu to come back stronger? His cultivation is so refined and powerful, he is now a force to be reckoned with. Is it not strange, da-ge, that a man that couldn’t push his core even after years of diligent training managed to strengthen so significantly in a matter of months?”

“What are you saying, Huaisang?”

“I’m saying that Wei Wuxian doesn’t have a Golden Core. He hasn’t had it for the entire duration of the war. He lost it during or before those three months he was missing. I’m saying those rumors about him being tossed into the Burial Mounds are likely to be true. I’m saying that Wei-xiong is exactly the kind of person who would use word games to make people believe otherwise. He’s also the kind of person who would do everything in his power to protect his martial siblings.”

Nie Mingue looks stunned, “He walked into war without his Golden Core?”

“I am absolutely certain he did.”

Nie Mingjue stares at his brother, “But you… don’t believe Wen Zhuliu took his core.”

Huaisang hesitates, “This is where I hesitate, da-ge. My instincts tell me it's not that simple. I have known both Wei-xiong and Jiang-zongzhu for a long time. We lived in close quarters and I may not be a good cultivator, but that doesn’t mean I miss small details. Jiang Wanyin feels just as powerful as Wei-xiong did, back then.”

“And you believe that’s impossible?” Da-ge arches a skeptical brow, “You, by your own admission, don’t like him.”

“Wen Qing nearly published a paper on Golden Core transfer. Wen Ning rescued Jiang Wanyin from Wen Chao’s grasp.” He takes a deep breath, “Wei Wuxian just gave up everything to repay a debt that Jiang Wanyin admitted he owed.” Nie Huaisang doesn’t know everything, but he has had years to figure out enough.

Suddenly, all the skepticism leaves his older brother’s face.

“Let’s speak with Lan Wangji.”

---

Wangji-xiong takes it like a blow to his chest.

Huaisang sees him flinch and he sees Xichen-ge step forward in concern, “Wangji...” Xichen-ge looks like he doesn’t know what to say and how to reassure his brother.

Huaisang may consider Wei Wuxian his best friend, but he firmly believes that no one cares for him more than Lan Wangji.

The Hanguang-jun believes him. That's clear from his expression.

Wangji-xiong has likely been aware of those scattered puzzle pieces as well. He just hadn’t put them together until now.

“This is all speculation,” Xichen-ge tries to interject, “There may not be any need to worry, Wangji.”

“Wei Ying’s heart hasn’t changed.”

Xichen-ge stills and Huaisang watches as icy resolve settles on Wangji-xiong’s face, “I’ll bring him.”

“Wangji-”

“Wangji begs your pardon, xiongzhang,” The Hanguang-jun turns around and walks swiftly towards the door. He offers no other word or explanation.

“Huaisang,” Xichen-ge’s voice is displeased, “You should have come to me with this first. Wangji is… attached to Wei-gongzi.”

Surprisingly, it is da-ge who intervenes.

“If you can give Meng Yao the benefit of the doubt, you can extend the same courtesy to Huaisang and Wangji’s friend, Xichen.” Nie Mingjue is scowling, “We have more reason to fault his character than Wei-gongzi’s.”

It is probably the harshest thing da-ge has ever said to Xichen-ge and it shows. The First Jade visibly calms himself and nods graciously, but there’s a glint of displeasure in his eyes. Jin Guangyao has been a bone of contention between da-ge and Xichen-ge for several months now. Huaisang should probably look into the matter a little more but Wei-xiong’s situation demands all of his attention.

Now that Jiang Wanyin announced Wei Wuxian’s defection to the entire cultivation world, he’s a free agent with a powerful ability and an even more powerful tool. With the Jins and their successful rumor-mongering, Huaisang fears they don’t have much time. Jin Guangshan has already driven a wedge between Jiang Wanyin and Wei Wuxian. How much more can they accomplish if Huaisang doesn’t intervene somehow?

---

Wangji-xiong doesn’t return with Wei Wuxian. He brings Wen Qing and wears an expression of outright fury on his usually stoic face.

“I transferred his Golden Core into Jiang Wanyin.” Wen Qing declares with a straight back and a steady glare. She looks right into da-ge’s eyes, “I helped Jiang Wanyin recover from his captivity and then agreed to perform the procedure.”

Huaisang sits down as his worst fear is confirmed.

He had hoped… he had desperately hoped he had been wrong but as Wen Qing goes on to describe everything, explaining how the procedure worked and what Wei-xiong had to endure for his martial brother’s sake, he becomes certain she is telling the truth.

And this is exactly what Wei Wuxian would do. It would be too far-fetched and outrageous for anyone else, but Wei-xiong- his capacity for self-sacrifice has always worried Huaisang and Lan Wangji.

“Where is he?” Nie Mingjue demands, “Did you leave him in the Burial Grounds? In his state?”

“Wei Ying refuses to come,” Lan Wangji says, his expression pale and tight, “He must keep the resentful spirits at bay and protect the Wens. There’s a child among them, barely two years old.”

Xichen-ge sucks in a breath, closing his eyes in dismay.

“He’s injured.” Wangji-xiong continues, “He was gutted by Jiang Wanyin in a staged fight.” Huaisang looks up sharply, “He hasn’t healed and yet persists to place himself at risk.”

“Wangji, we will help him,” Xichen-ge assures, “I apologize for not understanding the situation, but now we know and we will help him.”

“So they fought to spare the Jiang Sect,” Huaisang speculates with a frown, “But… why not just tell us? Surely Jiang-zongzhu knows he just had to mention his debt to you, Wen-guniang.”

“We have misunderstood Jiang Wanyin’s character greatly.” That is a big condemnation coming from the Hanguang-jun himself. Huaisang is certain that Wangji-xiong isn’t inclined to be charitable now. Jiang Wanyin did hurt Wei Wuxian seriously, after all.

“He won’t move until we do something to help the Wens.” Huaisang concludes, opening his fan in a snap and waving it furiously, “Because he’s just that stubborn. If he owes Wen-guniang and Wen-gongzi a debt, nothing is going to move him, not even Wangji-xiong.”

“I have never been able to move him.” Lan Wangji says icily and it seems like they’re feeding off each other’s ire.

Really, Wei-xiong is so frustrating to deal with sometimes. He doesn’t know how Lan Wangji handles being in love with him, Huaisang already feels nauseous. Wei Wuxian is in such a precarious position now that if they don’t act fast, he would…

He would likely be imprisoned or killed.

“Let’s offer the Wens some protection then.” Nie Huaisang says.

“Huaisang,” Da-ge warns, “It’s not that simple.”

“Why not?” He demands, turning towards his brother and Lan Xichen, “Will the Jins retaliate? If both Lans and Nies stand together on the matter, what will they do? The Wens don’t need to be free, they need to be safe and healthy. We can keep them contained in a small farming village, forbid cultivation and absorb any children into one of our clans. Let’s take Wei-xiong into the Nie clan and let the Wens settle in the northern reaches. The area is fairly remote and life will be hard but safe, better than the Burial Mounds at any rate!”

He doesn’t know what kind of expression he has on his face but da-ge looks faintly amused, “You’ll take on the Jins?”

“If I have to!”

“He means that much to you?”

Huaisang swallows and thinks of days spent in merriment and comfort. Of a friendly arm tossed around his shoulder and a laughing voice dragging him into all sorts of mischief. He thinks of warm silver eyes that never looked down at him and nods, “Yes, he does.”

Wei-xiong has always helped him and treated him with respect. It is time for him to return the favor.

---

It is a near miracle that everything works out as planned. Well, almost everything. No one is pleased when the Lans and Nies band together to take over the Wen remnants. Fortunately, the Jiangs don’t have any room to object. Da-ge doesn't hesitate to reveal that Jiang Wanyin owes Wen Ning his life. Jiang Wanyin's honor is called into question but he suffers no other consequence for his dishonesty. Nie Huaisang doesn’t care but he notices how it guts Wei-xiong.

Apparently, when Wei-xiong and Jiang Wanyin agreed to part ways, Jiang-zongzhu only needed to say Wei Wuxian had left the Jiangs. There was no need to outright state that his sect brother had betrayed the entire cultivation world!

Either Jiang-zonghzu is incredibly naive or he deliberately placed Wei Wuxian in a difficult position without his knowledge.

Either way, Nie Huaisang is content to see that relationship severed. In his humble opinion, he makes a much better martial brother. And Wei-xiong could certainly benefit from being under the thumb of someone as protective as da-ge. He’s entirely too willing to place himself in harm’s way!

Humming under his breath and happy that everything turned out according to plan, Nie Huaisang turns around the corner and pauses. He quickly takes a few steps back until he’s out of sight. Peeking cautiously around the corner, he hides a grin behind his fan as he sees Wei-xiong fall off a tree and right into Lan Wangji’s arms.

Huaisang bites back a laugh when Wei Wuxian stays in place, arms around Lan Wangji shoulders and eyes peering up at the Second Jade.

He had been suspicious about them since Lan Wangji all but dragged Wei Wuxian to the Unclean Realm. His best friend arrived with flushed cheeks and suspiciously red lips but everyone pointedly ignored it, too eager to avoid that particular mess.

He smiles, chuckling under his breath when Wangji-xiong pulls Wei Wuxian closer and dips his head.

Turning around, he starts walking away, leaving the lovers to their business.

Besides, da-ge would want to know about this.