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dzpenumbra · 1 year

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4/9/23

I saw the moon a good portion of the night last night, I keep looking out the window expecting to see it and see nothing.

Today was pretty uneventful. I spent a good chunk of the day studying astrology. I have had mixed feelings about not accomplishing enough and not seeing research as "work". I guess a little story might put it into perspective, but let me preface it by saying... my reasoning is that I want to take this time as an opportunity to learn about something that interests me. Rather than... rush it... and then learn after the fact.

This story isn't entirely related... it's just something I observed today. Something I really don't know how I feel about. So I might as well put it out there. I've been watching a lot of roleplay in Red Dead Redemption lately. And sometimes, in roleplay, they will make "perma characters", where the death conditions are basically... anything that incapacitates your character is an automatic death. Where, normally, you can sorta... choose how injured your character gets and when your character actually dies. Which... to a degree I understand, but always felt a bit... abusable. But I get that everyone is different and I do a lot of permadeath games and a lot of people really aren't cut out for it.

So this roleplayer decided he wanted to make... a Native American perma character. A warrior, who lost his entire tribe. Who spoke broken english. And walked around with a bow on his back and rode around bareback with a hatchet out and all that. Now... this guy is pretty notorious for playing pretty much exclusively villains. Arch characters. And this one... it had me genuinely scratching my chin.

I think it should be 100% not just okay to play characters of other races, but encouraged. Especially in roleplay communities that are predominantly white. Otherwise you just end up with a giant culture of white people, which is the exact opposite of the desired effect, diversity and cultural representation are just... gone. As long as you are playing an actual character. A person. Not like... a trope. I guess? I mean... yeah it's like... the line is super blurry there, you know? Like... okay... I was trying to ask the streamer periodically like... well... he was giving mixed messages about like animals being sacred, and being one with nature, and hating the invaders because they just "take take take" from the land, and all that. Then an hour later, he goes out and fills a buffalo full of arrows. Hacks it with a hatchet when it's down. Skins it. And leaves the carcass out in a field to rot. And this was after he heard a really well-delivered traditional Native origin story about what the buffalo really were to some tribes - basically a precursor to us, humanity, like a first wave of people that came to the world who were tricked and tempted by spirits, and they ended up becoming trapped and transformed into buffalo, and their purpose was to be here for us essentially... to utilize, but also to learn from. Like they gave in to temptation, and we have the gift of learning from their mistakes. It was a really powerful story that 80% of chat were spamming nodding-off-emotes in response to. And I tried to ask him about like... hunting... because he kept talking about how the bow and arrow... he, as a player, wasn't used to and shit. And people were encouraging him to go and practice, so I was trying to ask him... with his whole expressed beliefs about nature all being one interconnected web, and a failed confrontation of a European person for "taking" a wolf unjustly... I wanted to know how he felt about hunting... in general. You know, before just riding off and slaughtering an animal literally for money so that he could get a fancier bow.

Like... okay. Just, for the record, the second that buffalo went down, I tabbed out of the stream and went back to astrology study. I was just done... yeah. So... if you're going to play a Native character... please do! I mean that. I am so fucking tired of seeing the same fucking generic white male tough guy cowboys, or generic white female sheriffs or stereotypical Italian gangsters. You occasionally see some black people, which is good, honestly. You do not often see Asians, which... has always been odd to me. I feel like the whole Asians in the old west thing really doesn't get enough screen time, it's such a fascinating culture clash. But I have legit like... barely every even heard mention of Natives on that server. Like, one time, I heard someone mention a guy who was from the Wapiti tribe. That was it. So... maybe they do RP, and they just keep to themselves? Maybe because it can be hard for people to... gauge how to politically interact there, and it makes it awkward and people feel pressured? Especially if there was going to be like... conflict RP or something? It's delicate... and it really needs to be tasteful.

And, despite how talented the streamer I was watching today was, he was... not tasteful. Leading to a bit of my point here. If you're going to play a character from another culture... I think a pretty important part of that is... doing research. Accurate, comprehensive, immersive research. Not just... "okay... I'm... British. And my name is... George Stanford... and I'm from... hmm lets pull up a map... Okay... Nantwich. Right. That's a random spot no one's going to ask about." Okay, bad example, because European culture is pretty similar... so... let's say that same process I just did there, but with... Vietnam. Right? So now we have our Vietnamese guy and he's from a random city that no one will RP check you on, so... who is he? How does he act? I mean, it's more than just a fucking voice, okay? Getting an accent right is one thing, any idiot with enough time and enough confidence to screw up over and over until they get it right will get it eventually. People literally adopt accents subconsciously, it's definitely possible. But if you want to make a fucking person. You need to get in their head. You need to see through their eyes, you need to think like they think. You came from a fishing village where you didn't even have cobbled roads, and you get dropped in the heart of St. Denis... where you barely understand the language. The technology is different. The food is different. The customs are different. Like... it's a leap! And understanding your character's experience of that moment is really what ties you into their motives. To know who they are, you need to know where they came from. Their culture, their beliefs, how they see the world, their moral compass.

This guy was... stereotypical generic Native warrior #7, and he was designed to be a throwaway character. I would really call that... as close to a caricature as you can get without intentionally being one. Which is good. It's good that it's not a caricature, that it's not intentionally poking fun or mocking or expressing disgust. But honestly... it's lazy.

Especially when you have S-Tier roleplayers handing you source material in-game on a silver fucking platter. The chief that he magically stumbled upon in stream sent him on a short journey to find himself. Which I thought was fucking perfect, because he was a cardboard cutout of an "Indian" in a "cowboys and indians" movie. He needed a story, he needed motives, he needed history, identity and direction. Even if he only had 4 hours to live, or else he was literally only a savage Native, which... is really not a fair representation of anyone. Like... animals have more personality than that. It's lazy at a culture's expense, honestly. And the chief noticed this (I would wager) and, instead of flipping out or RP-checking him or bullying him or calling an admin... gave him an opportunity to build his character. The character was called "Moon Dance", he mentioned hawks and eagles, so the chief - I admire the fuck out of this RPer and I wish they were streaming, I was actively looking for them because of how stellar their performance was - the chief sent him on a night-time quest to the top of the sacred mountain, where eagles nest, at night, under moonlight. It was perfect. And this "warrior" heads off down the trail on his quest, and sees a pack of wolves between him and the moon on the trail he was supposed to go up. And the streamer was... he was fucking scared. He was scared of getting his perma character killed by wolves within minutes of meeting these people. Because wolves are strong on this server. And he only had a bow and arrow, which he had zero experience using. So he was like... actually put to the test! Immediately! Under the moonlight! It was flat-out cinematic, it was like... spiritual! Surreal! I was cooking dinner while that was happening and I was just like... "no fucking way". And the streamer? He says he's going to wait until the wolves leave at dawn, and went to take a piss and make a coffee. He went fucking AFK! XD Someone even went to check on him, and he was still AFK, it was awkward as fuck.

So he went to the top, and an eagle flew away, and he was going to shoot it but.. didn't. And I was like screaming (okay, internally, obviously not literally because I live in an apartment now) "DUDE, you are being fed your spiritual realization on golden fucking platter right now! YOU ARE NOT A WARRIOR ANYMORE!" I even tried typing it into chat. I... shouldn't, honestly. I bitch about backseating a lot, but like... it really would've saved the character. INSTEAD, I shit you not, he Googles "native american wisdom" and acts like he had some epiphany out of nowhere and suddenly just opened his eyes and saw the world in a new way, that we are all one and connected and we are all connected by blood or something. Like... it had zero connection to his character's actual experience, it had nothing at all to do with personal growth, it didn't even really have personal growth in mind, it was like... existential musing. It was done to try to like... "get it right", or "prove something". Like it was an algebra test or something, idk. It was so frustrating, that character turn could've been so impactful, so powerful. Especially for someone who tends to always play villains. To, instead, play a warrior who... after seeing all of his family and friends slaughtered, and failing to defend them. Failing his purpose. And left to wander the country, the last of his kind. Second guesses his place as an actual warrior. Because like... what is a warrior if they don't have a faction? Who is he even fighting for? What is he fighting for? Who is he fighting? Right? And this is a man who genuinely fears wolves, too. AND, because he's a perma character, he fears death way the fuck more than any other character in The Crossing. It's such a compelling framework for a really tense and transformative character. Good lord, I was like, foaming at the mouth seeing the potential in this character.

And instead... He goes on a canoe trip. He buys a new black and red outfit with a skull mask. He goes and slaughters a buffalo for money, and then hacks it to death when it goes down.

And I... died a little inside. And... another player even saw him do it. And confronted him on it. "Hey, isn't that animal sacred to your people?" And I was just like...

I don't like saying this. I really admire this streamer's abilities. I really like his work, I think he's talented and deserves the credit and popularity he gets. But in that moment, I was a little ashamed to be subscribed to him.

And... I see what he was going for. He likes to do crazy characters. He likes the deep south inbred murderer trope. He made a violent mutated circus freak character. He likes villains; insidious, arch, explosive, violent, vengeful, dark. But... Not to a buffalo. Not right after the Chief told you the origin story, how those were essentially people, and they were cursed to walk the land like that because they gave in the the same impulses you are giving into right now. It was just like... blatantly apparent that he wasn't listening to some of the best RP I've seen on his stream. It was such a shame.

So... I really don't know how you would make a Native villain in RP. I think it's very possible. I just... I think you really really need to build a backstory and context around them to make it very clear that you are not just a "savage primitive man". And the whole broken english thing really didn't help, honestly. And riding with no saddle. And simple clothing. Like... the Europeans had been settled on the continent since like... when was Plymouth and all that? Like the 1600's? And this takes place in 1901? And they wanna act like the Natives don't know how to speak English? Or don't have guns? I mean, many tribes were allied with the French in the French Indian War like... 150 years before that!

Watching someone who has over 9 years of experience in RP be in that position made me suddenly very confident in my abilities. It really was inspiring, in an odd way.

So... seeing that really helped reaffirm that... if you have a chance to learn about something? Like Moon Dance being given a spirit quest and an origin story on a silver fucking platter, or me having some extra time and an interest in actually learning how to create, read and analyze a horoscope (rather than just... estimate and make something that looks like a horoscope)... Just fucking go for it. Learn. Dive in. Take a few days. And that was me. I was reading about astrology until 6:30 AM on my phone in bed. I had to stop myself to go to bed. So... as much as I'm deeply compelled to just go and put something on the hoodie... this research will be helpful for more than just one art piece. It's helping me expand my world view and grow as a person. If I wanted to, I could even go and put up a flier at one of the entrances to my building and offer to read peoples' horoscope and tarot, if they wanted! I think that could be really cool. I just need to build up the confidence, and maybe make my home a bit more... theatrical. Which could be fun anyway... Could be cool.

I'm very disoriented right now. I'm hearing what I think sounds like... a vacuum cleaner? Coming from upstairs? And... it's 4AM. So... that's... not normal... So I'm gonna take a pee break and do some recon to confirm this.

Whatever, it's none of my business. It's so weird to hear human activity this late! I'm so used to the silence. Makes me wonder if they're okay. I know some people stress-clean. And doing that at 4AM in an apartment building is just... idk, either their just oblivious or they're really not doing well.

So yeah, unfortunately that was pretty much the bulk of the day. Cramming an insane amount of astrology information into my head, which I really didn't absorb a ton of... watching the stream... which inspired and then devastated me... then back to astrology.

I just rabbit holed again while the neighbor was vacuuming. Just... it was hard to hear my thoughts. I did more astrology reading. Welp, the whole thing just gets more and more complicated.

So... this one that I'm reading is saying stuff about how the zodiac is a season-based system of measurement that splits the sky along the equinoxes and solstices. (I'm following...) And then subdivides those by 3. (Kinda arbitrary but go on...) Full 360 degree circle with 30 degree sections. (Sounds math-y, but this is all math so, I'm onboard.) Then they start talking about how the zodiac isn't a constellation map, it's a separate thing, just regions of space used to symbolize those constellations. That it's much more connected to the movements of the sun and planets in regions of the sky, and those regions were just associated with constellation concepts, not direct representations. And I'm with all of it. And then they claimed that the constellations were actually named after the zodiac, that the zodiac came first. And I started to get a bit like... well... big claims require big evidence, right? And I just have this person's word here. So... I searched a bit and found an actual research paper from around 2009 on trying to find the origin of the 12 zodiac constellation system. I, admittedly, did not read too in-depth because... it's 4:30 AM... but from what I skimmed... it seems like constellations weren't really referred to openly, that we've discovered, in association with cycles before around the 10th century B.C. Now... this was 2009, so... we may have learned quite a bit since then. But at the time, that was the oldest documented association in writing to the moon cycle, and they mentioned 18 constellations, referred to as "gods". But constellations were often referred to in other documents prior to that, apparently. And from this research, it seems like the Mesopotamian solar calendar (30 day months, 12 months) was sorta superimposed on it, and a few constellations were doubled up to make it fit. They discarded Orion and "The Field" (Pegasus square and part of Pisces).

God, I'm getting so lost in this and I'm super tired. Basically, that kinda just smells like confident bullshit. The part about the constellations being named after the Zodiac. That just doesn't seem true. The constellations were known for ages and ages before, like there is documented evidence of that for over 1000 years before the mention of zodiacal arrangement, and some of what we consider bigger constellations like Pisces and Taurus were actually broken up into smaller ones, like "The Swallow" and "Anunitu". So... again... with history that old... it's really hard to know for sure what is the true story there. Not that any story is like... better or worse... culture melding and borrowed practice is like... the cornerstone of occult expression. It's kinda what defines it, in a unique way. Esoteric practices tend to borrow from many cultures, which creates very creative and unique hybrid practices which absolutely fascinate me. I just don't like it when claims are made like "well, actually... duh..." and then... there's zero evidence to prove the bold claim. Just word of mouth or something. I'm sorry, but if there's a cuneiform document from 700 BC that says they are using an 18 constellation zodiac... I mean... it's right there. Are we going to assume that they... split the 12 constellations and renamed them, then put them back together? Or does it make more sense for that to have been a precursor prior to trying to sync those discoveries to the seasonal calendar?

History is so fascinating. Infinitely frustrating, I'm sure, but so damn fascinating. We think we know so much but we know so goddamn little.

Anyway, I don't need astronomical precision. I like seasonal associations, I like element associations and deity associations, I'm not married to literal planets in literal constellations in the visible sky. Houses and evenly spaced zodiacal regions are totally fine with me. And they make sense in their own way. It makes way more sense from a timekeeping or rhythmic standpoint.

Wow, I was all over the place tonight. I gotta go to bed. The moon is up and high in the sky now. Goodnight!

#diary #journal #online journal #stream of thoughts #stream of consciousness

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arty-shadow-morningstar · 3 years

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Graveyard Siblings (3)

Some for revenge and some sibling bonding.

[Masterlist]

(Part 1)(Part 2)

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Adrien was next to be visited. Plagg woke him up from his sleep.

-------

“Kit, wake up. I want camembert.”

“Plagg, silence. You are not getting any cheese if you do that.”

“Sorry, Adrien but you are not my ‘master’ anymore.”

“Plagg? Why are you here? Where’s the ring?”

“The ring is as far away as possible and kept safely away. I am here because someone wants to talk to you.”

“Who?”

A cloaked, hooded figure stepped out of the shadows to his room.

“Kitty. My Chaton. Did you miss me?” A sweet, familiar but yet so terrifying voice came from the figure.

She pulled down the hood to reveal Ladybug with a wicked-looking black mask with white lenses.

“What am I talking about? You do miss me. Your Bugaboo. Too bad I don’t feel the same, Adrien.”

Lightning flashed and it started to rain. The mask was gone, revealing his dead classmate, Marinette with chilling red eyes. The pigtails grew longer and curved upwards, giving the illusion of her having horns. Twin blades flashed and she leaped towards him. (Damian gave them to her with some lessons in exchange for spending time with, babysitting, the kwamis.)

Adrien scrambled away from the bed in the nick of time. A sword impaling the spot where he just was.

“Plagg, help. Where is the ring? I need to transform.”

“Sorry, kitten. I am not telling you. Even if you did have the ring, it’s not going to be much help.”

“Kitty, stay still. Then, we can be together. Just like you wanted.”

Adrien continued to dodge.

“What do you mean?” He all but screamed at Plagg.

“Pigtails, here, is a vengeful spirit. She’s not going to stop until she is satisfied. How about asking her what she wants?”

“Ladybug, what do you want?”

“What I wanted was a partner I could rely on, someone I can trust with my life, someone who wouldn’t stab me in the back for his own selfish gain. I wanted a friend who would have my back and not tell me to keep quiet at the price of my mental health and my relationships with people I care about. WAS THAT TOO MUCH TO ASK?!”

She managed to get a cut on his left cheek.

Soon, he was on the ground, bleeding out on the round.

“Tell Hawkmoth that he better watch out. Because-” lightning struck and Plagg and Ladybug had disappeared, “his downfall is coming.” Her voice echoed through his room.

Adrien laid bleeding until Natalie opened the door after hearing a crash from the room and came to check on him. As she called an ambulance for Adrien, she wondered if it wasn’t too late to ask for redemption and be spared from Ladybug’s wrath for her part in her murder.

Adrien had the word ‘TRAITOR’ carved into his back. Forever reminding him of his crimes.

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He wasn’t in school for a week after the incident. They all were told that Adrien had an accident while fencing.

Gabriel was a little panicking now.

He hired an exorcist, (John Constantine got a hefty amount and did a few flashy magic tricks to appease Gabriel but he didn’t lift the curse Maria put on the place. She is not someone to be on the bad side of and he thinks that he can’t lift it even if he wanted to.)

Emilie gets a little sus at Gabriel when he brought this strange man with a British accent into their home after their son got attacked in his own room with security tighter than Fort Knox.

She doesn’t buy that ‘accident’ bullshit that her husband, son and even Natalie tries to sell her. She thinks it is connected to what happened while she was in a coma.

-----

Adrien has a curse too.

(Credit to @raeuberprinzessin for giving me an idea)

He couldn’t act like the ‘Perfect Adrien’ in public anymore. Acting more like Chat Noir at first then, later a spoiled brat. His friends thought that he was finally rebelling against his father and encouraged it a lot.

Adrien started criticizing other people, strangers at first then to the people working on the photoshoots to his fans to his other school mates, people in his class and his friends. (The curse planted ideas into his head about what he should say and he said them all without thinking about the effect it has on other people)

People started avoiding him not liking his attitude and his comments about how they should behave and change something about them because he doesn’t like it that way and guilt-tripping them when he doesn’t get his way. Even Nino started to distance himself after he saw how Adrien talked to a fan.

The public thought it was a phase but as he got progressively worse, people started despising him. Adrien doesn’t realize this of course so far, happy that his father let him get away with ‘ruining the Agreste image.’ (Gabriel was worried about a potential vengeful ghost and making sure his wife didn't know about his stint as a supervillain. There was also the fact that the Afterlife made more sales than him again and managed to get on the cover of Vogue when he should have, dammit.) He was finally able to say what he wanted to without repercussions. Until he realized when Nino and everyone else cancelled for a hangout for the third time that week that he was slowly losing his friends.

He panics and tries to fix the situation. He didn’t want to be alone again.

He talks to Nino about it and to his horror, he couldn’t stop himself from saying many things that were a little hurtful. (Second part. The moment he realizes he is going to be alone. He is going to find out that yes, lies can hurt people. He is going to see it happen firsthand.)

Nino moved seats and told Adrien that their friendship was on hold until he apologized.

Soon, nearly every time his mouth opened, lies and insults about his friends or their embarrassing secrets came spilling out. Everyone hated him now and Mme. Bustier tried to give him a reprimand about his behaviour, which when he tried to defend himself, he found himself unable to speak.

He managed to explain to his father what caused his unpopularity by writing what happened to him. Unfortunately due to his poor behaviour before the second part of the curse was activated, his fan base was dwindling and people didn’t like him anymore so there was a hit on the Gabriel brand.

He no longer has to do modeling, clearing his schedule. But no one would spend time with him.

The best solution he could do with his predicament was to keep quiet and endure the loneliness and the glares of his classmates at school. Adrien was relegated to the back and nearly everyone avoided him. He was now a social pariah.

Even Lila avoided him because of her own curse which made Adrien turn into one of her previous victims. (She also didn’t ponder why Marinette rarely appears compared to the others.)

If Adrien felt a tiny bit remorseful or guilty for making Marinette keep quiet or betraying Ladybug, he can gain a little control over what he says.

The curse can be broken if he apologizes to Maria herself or to her grave.

------

The first few months, while Marinette adapted to living with the Waynes, Jason stayed over at Wayne Manor because having Maria living with him at his apartment wasn’t a good idea and he had no clue how to take care of a teenage girl.

On paper she is adopted by Bruce because Jason can’t. (Some CPS reasons.)

Making Jason a little more salty towards Bruce. “I found her first. I called dibs.”

Brought Maria to meet the other Outlaws and they adopted her too. “Hey, guys. She’s my sister first.”

Jason was the one to teach her how to shoot a gun because he was ‘the most capable’ of teaching her.

The first few months were a little tense with Marinette not fully trusting them and the same with the rest of the Batfam.

Jason warmed her up a bit to him by telling a little of why he took her here.

He was also the one to book them flight to Paris with Bruce’s credit card so she can tell her friends that she wasn’t dead in person.

They bonded more after stopping some nefarious plot in Paris while they were there. Let’s say Gentleman Ghost and something involving the catacombs in Paris. (I watched some Batman: Brave and the Bold for childhood nostalgia.)

Kwamis were animal-shaped and they were interesting creatures to be around. And very very curious.

There was a stressful day for Maria when all the Kwamis decided to play hide and seek. Damian somehow got roped into helping her as the only available person in the Manor and he will deny that he enjoyed it.

Damian is the little brother she always wanted and she is more tolerable compared to his brothers. There is also the fact that she trusts him with the kwamis and deep down, he feels super-honoured. (I just love older sister!Mari)

Tim and her being insomniac/coffee buddies. There has been many many interventions to stop this.

I get that Marinette is this selfless person and loves making people happy but she has siblings now and them eating the stuff she made for herself to enjoy, should get on her nerves after a while.

She makes a box with booby-traps in which she puts in her cookies and food.

There are many different layers of traps because this is the Batfam and each of them is non-lethal and more ridiculous.

Okay, I once read a fic about Marinette making a bear-trap style box to hide the Miracle Box so this box is also like that but kept for food. (Traps and Sneaks by quicksilversquared)

Someone (I vote a hungry Dick or Jason, maybe a suspicious Bruce) made a mistake of putting their hand into the box and the first trap activated.

Screams filled the house.

Everyone came down including Marinette.

Bruce asked, “Who did this?”

“It was me.”

“Why?”

“They kept eating the cookies.”

“There are other ways to stop them from doing that you know like a ‘Do Not Touch’ sign not a death trap box.”

“They are non-lethal.”

Bruce locked it away but Tim later stole it to tweak it and store his coffee. ------ (Part 4)

#graveyard siblings #maribat #ml x dc #mlb x dc #adrien salt #adrien bashing #platonic jasonette #platonic daminette

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hmspogue · 3 years

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Outer Banks season 2 Official Trailer shot-by-shot rundown

A comprehensive post where I scream about analyze the entire trailer frame by frame for clues, theories, and plot. Just my own opinions and general tin foil-hatting

These are screenshots from Netflix’s trailer for Outer Banks season 2. I do not claim or own any of these.

note: this post is tagged as a long post if you wish to avoid having to scroll until your thumbs break.

“My old man used to tell me, ‘it’s best to never say you’ve hit rock bottom’.”

(Putting all of these shots together since they’re scenes we already know but-) Holy shit, okay let’s just....start off like this I guess, damn.

“'Trust me’, he said...”

Kiara looking back and forth between the boys like this really just feeds the headcanon I have that her form of grief this season is going to be her trying to hold it together for their sakes (and eventually just snapping).

JJ just looks fucking furious someone give these kids a hug? I already know this scene is going to ruin me.

“You can always go...”

JJ back working at the hotel. He looks literally so angry again in this scene I could see him self destructing at work and losing his job? (Please do not be isolating yourself you beautiful son of a bitch even though I know you’re going to).

Pope in the Twinkie (costuming wise they all are in warmer looking clothes for some of the shots, so just confirming it’s a little bit into the school year when this all takes place).

“Lower”

Big John was real big into pep talks, I see. (seriously can you imagine Big John having this conversation with like 8 year old John B after he fucking dropped his ice cream cone or some shit I shouldn’t be laughing).

I’m just-

These poor kids, I wanna know how the police all the way down in the Bahama’s knew about them?

Their calves....

“RUN!”

Are going to be so fucking jacked by the end of this season I stg.

Fuck you.

“The gold from the Royal Merchant....it’s here.”

For a while, I had thought that maybe they didn’t even make it to the Bahama’s at the front of the season and ended there (because everyone had been filming in there). But I guess they’re going to be making two trips.

If I were a bird from this POV I’d shit right on that house no questions asked.

oooooh ho hokay. Just so we’re clear. Ward Cameron not only get away with murder and about two dozen other felonies, but-

“Half a billion.”

HE STILL FINDS THE GOLD IN THE CRAIN HOUSE AND GETS TO KEEP IT?

Not the polo with the snap back, I just know this man has a playlist called Sad Boi Hours that is just Juice WRLD’s top 5 songs on Spotify and he tells his friends they wouldn’t know the underground artists he listens to.

Sh, you have lost screaming privileges. Go inside and take a nap maybe.

“John B, we are fugitives in a foreign country.”

So, previously, I was talking about how I was confused how they would still be trying to find him is everyone thought he was dead, but here the wanted poster clearly says “presumed lost at sea”. I think that will be interesting to see how the Pogues all interpret that.

Especially because they already had a memorial for John B and everything, I wonder if there will be any part of the Pogues holding out hope that they both could still be out there OUCH.

I’m going to circle back to this, but it looks like John B and Sarah are going to get separated for a little while in this man hunt, I could see my idiot himbo son trying to sacrifice himself so Sarah can get away but in reality just....stranding her.

“Promise me you won’t do anything stupid?”

Oh, sweetie....

“Well, Sarah Cameron, I do stupid things all the time without realizing it.”

The volume of his self awareness is astronomical. sir, that is your whole character summed up in your own words.

GOD, IT’S ME AGAIN. PLEASE LET THEM LEAN INTO COMPLETE HIMBO JOHN B THIS SEASON I’LL DO ANYTHING-

nyyooooOOOOOOOOOOOOM-

“Hold on!”

The complete abject terror I would feel having John Booker Routledge driving get-away and then saying the words “Hold on” while reaching fro the gear shift? The english language fails me.

Sarah, bestie, I’m so sorry.

I just wanna know-

what the plan or objective was in this situation. What was the reason for being this dramatic.

Rest in piss, bozo <3

“Ward’s still out there...”

Okay, same conversation they were having as before. I wonder what makes them decide they need to get back to the OBX for this tho.

“I can clear my name. This can all be over in one shot.”

It looks like Topper watching this but way more concerningly, correct me if I’m wrong but this 100% looks like....John B gets caught. And the DEATH PENALTY?! He did have a mug shot for the fliers in s1 and the one above but he was never brought in? Plus he just looks super dirty and dishevled in this one so I-

Jail break anyone?

I also still want to know if they’re going to go with a Topper redemption arc this season. like, does he know more than he should just from being around Rafe and his big fat mouth? Is he going to help out the Pogues even if it’s just for Sarah?

This shot just suddenly made me really sad. The thought of this all started because Big John left one last thing for his son to find, his literal life’s work. And when it all started, it was just a fun adventure John B and his best friends were going on together and having fun with. Then it all got dragged to absolute shit and turned into what it did, including the remaining 3 Pogues thinking that this treasure hunt took their two best friends away from them. And it’s nothing like Big John intended it to be.

Why my eyes wet?

Now we’re edging into what I was talking about earlier with John B and Sarah getting separated.

“If you think there is anything I wouldn’t do...”

Once again, John B is no where to be found. Also, just in case y’all didn’t already know or forgot Ward is an actual psychopath.

I believe this one of the new character, played by Jontavious Johnson (Stubbs). Based on the voice over it lowkey sounds like they’re implying Ward maybe hired Stubbs and Cleo to find and bring Sarah back. My theory would be I bet they do go to retrieve her, but she somehow convinces them that it would be more beneficial for them in the end to be on the Pogue’s side instead.

Miss Girl you gotta be keeping your head on a SWIVEL. Especially when you’re a FUGITIVE of the LAW-

“...you haven’t been paying attention.”

My guy, who are you clarifying this for?

It’s what you deserve for monologuing.

in all seriousness, the idea of them coming to face to face with Ward in Nassau after thinking they finally escaped him is genuinely terrifying.

“SARAH!”

It kind of looks like they’re either hiding their faces or covering their noses? I don’t know maybe it was from some tactic to get away from Ward.

What did I literally jsut say about yelling privileges, you unhinged mother fucker?

“I’m calling the shots now. I’m driving.”

The following progression of scenes made me actually snort-

“I can’t drive stick.”

PLEASE THE FINGER GUNS LAUNCHED ME INTO ORBIT I LOVE THEM, YOUR HONOR.

Alright, so now it looks like we’re in Charleston. This is the same scene with Heyward’s truck that got leaked from BTS (read: JJ and Kie shoulder touch).

One of the main things that stuck out to me in the following scenes which, you will see, is it lowkey looks like Pope is kind of heading up this part of the operation, or even going in alone? The following clips are just very Pope focused.

I don’t know what it means, it’s just an observation.

“John B was not the only one that Ward double-crossed.”

LIMBRY-

Bro, we have been hearing about this woman for literal months and I just have....so many questions?

Who the hell is she? How is she connected to Ward? Why is she in South Carolina instead of the OBX? How do the Pogues even learn about her and how to track her down? How is she meant to “help” them? GAH I JUST WANNA KNOOOW. I already know I don’t trust her though and no I will not be offering up supporting evidence.

Sir, that is my son please unhand him.

“I think you know what I want.”

.......no? But feel....free to explain yourself?

The print on the paper is the same one that’s on the ceiling tiles in the following scene. Obviously, with a key on it that most likely goes to the place a few shots from now.

Hell yeah, son, let’s get SLEUTHING.

“The treasure belongs to the Pogues.”

DAMN STRAIGHT.

Bestie’s I’m not going to lie, I stared at this frame for a solid 10 minuets and I have no idea what it says on there I’m sorry. Someone in the comments is welcome to enlighten us.

“We gotta find it first.”

I can’t tell if that’s just dirt or if he hurt his head? But he look GOOD right now for one thing. For another, same outfit as the one in the Twinkie from the beginning of the trailer.

Look at her. LooK AT HER! LOOK! AT! HER! I MISSED HER SO MUCH even in that damn smiley face top that continues to haunt my waking hours she is in it so much and it stresses me out for literally no good reason I’m sorry-

I could literally cry right now and I think that speaks volumes to how little we actually see him genuinely happy. Have I mentioned how much I love that red hat?

Also, probably not that important, but this is not from the same scene as the shots of Pope and Kiara were. This is from the next one-

“Woogity-woogity?”

“Give me some woogity, baby!”

Yeah, this pushed me over the fucking edge, the way that they’re actually happy and laughing? The fact that they kept woogity-woogity and made it A Thing? Yes.

I am, however, going to be intentionally ignoring what appears to be the very intentional stagingof having such an obvious space between where Kiara and Pope are sitting adn where JJ sits, even including the level they’re sitting on because I don’t have the emotional capacity to face those implications right now. Thank you for your time.

Yes yeeeeEEEEEESSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!!!!!!

GIVE ME ALL OF THE SCENES OF THEM ACTUALLY GETTING TO BE TEENAGERS AND JUST BREATHE AND LAUGH AND HAVE A GOOD TIME AND NOT BE RUNNING FOR THEIR FUCKING LIVES!!!!!!!!!!!

before Rafe comes in and literally starts shooting because they can’t breathe for more than 7 seconds but we’ll....get to that.

They refer to Sarah as a Pogue this season or I burn Netflix to the ground. Your move, Jonas.

50 bucks says John B is driving the Twinkie again for the first time since being back.

I deadass think the Pogues JUST got Sarah and John B back and they’re just having the time of their life. Kie was in her smiley face outfit when Pope was in this one a few clips ago, and I still hold to the belief that that one still they released of JJ and Kie hopping over a fence is the Pogue reunion so-

Ward? I have no idea what he’s looking at behind the wall paper and I’ll be so honest I don’t care my eyes are only seeing Pogue content right now.

“This is a map of the whole island.”

This fit, when will John B learn how to operate buttons, stay tuned for season 5. Also my previous theory of this being their reunion outfits and stuff because Pope is in the back in the same jacket as before.

The plot thickens and so has JJ’s hair, Rudy drop the shampoo brand.

Please, dear God, tell me they’re back in the sex church. For @jiaaraa sake.

Kiara, your Madison is showing.

Okay, I really did try but all I can make out is Something to the tomb begin something something.

You’re welcome.

I am no expert but I do not believe boats operate on land.

John B looks like he is in the same outfit here that is in his mug shot we saw on the TV screen so I have a sneaking suspicion this is where he gets caught.

“John B is back-”

Once again with the damn sexual tension that’s always between Barry and Rafe in every scene they do are we about to kiss right now?

“-it’s him or me.”

First of all, no.

Second of all, I’m just....so very confused about this time line this season. It kind of looks like Ward and Rafe follow and find Sarah and John B in Nassau (unless those scenes by the truck were actually back in the OBX). So did they....go to Nassau, then just come right back when they did? I’m just confused.

Put that thing back where it came from or so help me.

Literally when will you stop at this point I am begging you.

This looks like the same scene the Pogues were, ya know, literally just having a good time at so fuck me, I guess.

Yeah, no, it’s going to be a no from me, I’m just going to pretend like I’m not seeing this and moving on.

I have simply no idea what is going on here or who that is on the bike but maybe JJ? Maybe Luke even? I think that’s JJ’s bike.

The sewer scene. The SEWER SCENE-

For months sicne that tiktok leaked this damn scene has been genuinely all I could think about. So (obviously) it seems like they’re sending Kie down into the sewer to go do seomthing and things go horribly, horribly wrong.

If you haven’t seen the tiktok, essentially all it was was JJ and Pope screaming and trying to lift up the man hole cover while Kie is begging for them to hurry from inside. I’m cheating a little bit as this isn’t a shot from the trailer but this picture was posted and it’s from the same scene.

I’ll just....leave this here. Back to the trailer shots.

Nice. Also, same shirt as mugshot.

Hey, um, what?

Kiara’s car, she’s driving, I can’t tell who’s in the back seat or the front.

Holy God what is going on and how can I as an audience member put a stop to it?

So, same scene as we will see and was in the teaser but, for some reason, they’re all jumping off of a giant ass boat into the little life raft where it looks like JJ gets hurt later but don’t you worry we’re getting to that.

JJ AND KIARA WITH THE POGUE HANDSHAKE JJ AND KIARA WITH THE POGUE HANDSHAKE THEY BOTH LOOK SO DAMN GOOD AND THEIR LITTLE SMILES SPARE ME-

Cleo 🥵

I’m so excited to see her arc and what it brings this season you guys have no idea.

Please for the love of God be about to get Ward Cameron’s ass like he deserves literally punt him into jail right from Tanny Hill.

Sarah at My Druther’s with what looks like a bloody bandage on her side? Same outfit she’s wearing when they’re running from the police on the beach and she has the bandage there too so. Interesting.

Topper hugging who I’m pretty sure is Sarah, being a general douche because he’s clearly looking at John B like 😏

Clips like these serve to remind me just how many of my worldly posessions I would gladly give up to be able to punch Topper Thorton in the throat one time.

I think this is Cleo jumping off the boat with Pope after John B and Sarah.

Absolutely busting a lung at Pope’s form in this one.

John B and Sarah waiting in the life raft, still Cleo and Pope coming after them. The obvious next question is where are JJ and Kiara. The scene I’m sure you all have been waiting for is coming up and clearly takes place in the life raft as well.

So, I really think JJ and Kie get left for last, something horrible happens as they’re trying to jump (my head instantly goes to JJ maybe like pushing Kie out of the way and getting hit on the head instead or even just some accident).

And, oh my GOD a scene of him falling off the boat after it happens and Kiara diving in after him immediately, having to desperatly try to stop him from sinkingand get to the life raft holy shit-

Girl CATCH HIM?????

Because why wouldn’t this be Rafe’s fault. Part of me wonders if this isn’t related to JJ being hurt.

I am going to try and unpack this as calmly as possible because behind my computer screen I am vibrating at a frequency that could shatter glass but respectfully.

WHAT IN THE FUCK IS TIAUEWFHLAILA

Okay, so scene wise, JJ’s hit his head somehow (probably while he was jumping with Kiara) it looks like and now they’re back on the raft.

In my opinion, this is either:

A) JJ is in really, really bad condition after getting hurt in the jump and they’re not sure he’s going to make it. So this is a “Please stay with me, stay awake, please don’t die” hug OR

B) They very narrowly just avoided a deadly situation (my first thought is JJ hits his head while jumping, passes out in the water, maybe almost drowns but Kie and the others get him onto the life raft in time) and this is more of a “Oh my God, you’re okay, you’re safe now, we’re okay” hug.

I honestly lean more to the second one based on the little bit of Sarah’s face we saw in the background. To me, it almost looked like she was smiling thru tears, which, fits way more with the second option than the first.

Anyways. Moving on before I burst a lung again.

(also, before anyone comes at me, no, I’m not happy JJ is hurt, obviously.

(Once again, arrest outfits). You can still see the bandage but it looks like Sarah’s limping now too so...good Lord give the girl a break maybe?

Everything in this trailer just went to shit so fast I think I have whip lash, can we go back to the Pogues hanging out and being happy now pkease I liked those scenes.

“I get it. You guys are scared.”

“No.”

She’s cute but, uh, hello sewer scene outfits. Seems like them planning to do whatever the hell they were going to do in the sewers but the boys are starting to get cold feet as maybe they should but hind sight is 20/20 I suppose.

“It’s kind of cute.”

“I’m not scared.”

“You should’ve just led with that.”

I will never be able to express how much I adore Pogue banter and general dumbassery and I have a feeling this season will not be lacking in either department

I high key don’t think these two are actually going to be there for this scene to go down but I’ll let it slide this time because-

They do be kinda cute.

It both feels like I’ve been waiting for this damn show for 3 years and also like I just watched season 1 last month explain that to me.

Either way holy shit. I missed this dumb show and these dumb kids so much it physcially hurts and WE GET THEM BACK IN T-MINUS 16 DAYS.

Also. Where The Hell Is Wheezie Cameron And When Will She Have The Rights She Deserves.

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giorno-plays-piano · 3 years

Text

Heartache

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Soldat!Reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, kidnapping, captivity, torture, brainwashing, delusional Bucky.

Words: 2535.

Summary: You don't need the one whose name was Bucky Barnes, a hundred years old broken man who returned back to the world that couldn't offer him anything but regrets and nightmares. You need your Soldier, the one who won't return to you even if you throw Bucky back into that iron chair and fry his brains for the thirtieth time.

P.S. I have to say it turned out darker than I expected. Attention! Bucky is free from his programming, but he does not heal as he should.

__________________

“You look old.”

You decide to give him the pleasure of hearing your voice. It sounds dull from behind the glass when Bucky comes closer, looking at someone he recognizes too well, but you do not recognize a man he became, nothing reminding you of the one with whom you once shared your bed.

You know what the man looking at you through the glass thinks. You didn’t age a day since the last time he saw you, and while he knows why, it still surprises him to see a young woman watching him calmly as if all those years didn't pass.

“You miss your star.” You say, tilting your head to the side and narrowing your eyes at him when you see his new vibranium arm.

“It doesn't matter.” His answer is immediate, and Bucky isn't surprised to hear the raw anger in his own voice: he is no longer the Soldier you knew, and he is worried he won't find a way to interact with you. You don't seem too interested in Bucky Barnes and whoever he works for despite the fact you are hardly HYDRA's soldier yourself.

What he doesn't know is that you still stay the soldier you have been once, and nothing will ever change that regardless of whoever Bucky Barnes sends your way to cure you from HYDRA's conditioning.

"I'm glad you remember me."

You find it peculiar: a man who has been trying so hard to get rid of anything that ties him to the Winter Soldier has been looking for you for years, finally tracking you down, capturing you and bringing you here as if your pure existence didn't remind him of the worst years of his life. What did he expect to find? A comfort in someone who once had been paired with him just for the sake of research?

"Don't bother, Mr. Barnes. There's nothing there left for you."

You see he's taken aback because you have hit a nerve. Apparently, James Buchanan Barnes thought the connection between the two of you remained the same, and he could dig up the feelings that had long been buried. Stupid, you think, he's forgetting the most important part: he is not the man you formed the bond with. You don't need the one whose name was Bucky Barnes, a hundred years old broken man who returned back to the world that couldn't offer him anything but regrets and nightmares. You need your Soldier, the one who won't return to you even if you throw Bucky back into that iron chair and fry his brains for the thirtieth time.

It doesn't matter. After all those years you didn't believe in happy endings, and even if the man watching you through the glass think he is going to get one after getting out, he is clearly deluding himself.

Averting his eyes, Bucky clears his throat and changes the topic, trying to give himself a false hope he can mend things. “I will convince Shuri to treat you. She helped me break through the conditioning, and she will do the same to you."

You could raise your brow at him, but maintaining this facade is tiresome and doesn't make sense. "I see you have no idea how much my conditioning differs from yours. You can't break through it. It's embedded in me."

"I thought so, but I got rid of mine. You can do it too, I'm sure."

Although you see him trying to assure you, Bucky's getting agitated because he really has no idea what HYDRA did to you. He couldn't know it when he still was the Soldier, but now the lack of his knowledge leads you to the thought your former masters destroyed whatever info they still kept - they foresaw he would search for you.

"Your brainwashing was flimsy. I've always wondered how come you were considered HYDRA'S greatest assassin when you just needed to see your dear friend once to start getting your memories back." You snort, knowing Bucky would feel a slight hint of jealousy in your voice, but you don't care: you've never hid from him you only needed the Winter Soldier, and he was gone.

Bucky doesn't know what to say as a part of him wants to scream there was nothing flimsy about electroconvulsive therapy he went through over and over again, but he looks at you and sees how different you are from him, having no memories of your own, not knowing even your name or the place where you came from. It doesn't scare him, but the fact you had long merged with the Soldier you've become does. You don't separate yourself from her the way he did. In fact, the Soldier had completely absorbed your true persona, and Bucky doesn’t know the real you. He only knows RED, a Soldat who at one point was been created by HYDRA just like all of them were. Despite searching for the information about your past for years, he found nothing, not even the year when you became a part of the organization. Bucky doesn’t think you did it willingly judging by the fact how you reacted when he had been training you among the other Soldiers, but he can’t be sure.

You’re a ghost. None of the masters who had been giving you orders know anything about you except your specialization and things you can do. Bucky supposes there were once people who knew the truth, but all of them are probably dead since the ones he has captured were utterly useless. His only hope is Shuri who might bring whatever is left somewhere deep inside your mind to the surface, yet he isn’t sure she will take you: the more you talk, the more it becomes clear you will not ask her to do it willingly, and Shuri won’t like that. The redemption can only be granted to someone who asks and works for it.

You don’t seem the type.

“What do you want me to do?” He asks you quietly, his forehead almost touching the glass separating you two when Bucky watches you with that pathetic expression of his. “If I let you go, you will return to people you serve. If I bring you to police, you will end up in a lab in the hands of the government.”

You allow him to see your smile as you observe him, desperately hoping you will tell him you will come back to the good guys and stay with him, playing a role of his funny little girlfriend because Bucky Barnes cannot allow himself to form an adequate relationship with any woman who has not been tainted the way he was. It probably seems so tragic to him that he had to spent years trying to catch you.

Although the chair you’re bound to doesn’t let you stand and come over to him, you still lean closer to the window, wearing the same polite but welcoming smile you used to lure your targets closer to you.

“I want you back in that chair, going through the whole process of brainwashing again until you become the Soldat you’ve been. I want you standing with me and feeling as much pain as I did until your sensitivity goes down to zero, and you no longer remember those funny friends of yours. I know you won’t trade your freedom and whatever else you have after getting out, but I don’t need James Buchanan Barnes or White Wolf or whoever you have become. I am RED of HYDRA, and I have bonded with the Winter Soldier you buried, Bucky.”

When he leaves, the massive metal door getting locked ten times the least, you stare at the grey wall beside the glass. You wonder how getting the privilege of remembering his past made him so miserable, a pathetic, broken man who did not understand how lucky he had been, not only breaking free from HYDRA’s grip but gaining his true identity back. He probably pitied himself, poor little boy who had been broken by the big bad guys. He did not understand that all other soldiers who came after him, except the suicide squad made with Stark’s serum, had been turned into ashes. There was nothing left to break in them - and you either.

_______________________

Shuri wasn’t happy to hear your story just like he thought, but Bucky couldn’t lie to her, hoping she would understand. Of course, she didn’t, telling him outright it was impossible to treat somebody who didn’t want to be treated. While it was also inhuman, forcing you to do something against your will just like HYDRA has been doing all these years, it also erased the possibility to use the same methods she chose when she treated Bucky.

“You don’t understand,” she tells him, shaking her head, “it’s not that I don’t want to help, but without her cooperating it’s close to impossible. They didn’t use the same ways to program her just like they did to you.”

He isn’t satisfied with her answer even though he knows Shuri wants to help. He can’t leave it like that, leave you to your fate, return you where you belonged, and he keeps asking who or what may be able to help you until she finally tells him something about electrical stimulation of the brain that can awake memories that you have buried. Shuri immediately regrets it, seeing how Bucky’s face lights up.

“It is a very complicated process that requires an extensive medical knowledge. Worse, even if performed correctly, this technique can traumatize her even further. Please don’t do this. We don’t even know if this method will be effective.”

Bucky doesn’t promise her anything, though a part of him feels guilty he made her tell him this. He just has to do it: undoubtedly, HYDRA or whoever you work for now will force you to go through the brainwashing process again, and whatever treatment Shuri told him about can’t be worse than this. If Bucky does everything right, you might stand a chance to live like he does, away from the horrors of the war you had been a part of ever since the organization abducted you. Even if you don’t want it, clearly it is an effect of the memory suppressing machine: any sane human being wants to have a normal life, right?

It takes him months to find and steal the equipment he needs, leaving no traces - it reminds him of the days when he had been under HYDRA’s control, but he does what he has to. Learning how to use the machine is a much more complicated task, but Bucky is grateful for that serum-enhanced brain of his: he nearly swallows the information from the books in record time, reading about sending a burst of electrical energy into your cerebral cortex to stimulate your brain and finally retrieve your memories. Now he knows what Shuri meant by traumatizing, but this doesn’t stop him either. He does what he has to do.

“What is your name?” He repeats after listening to your screams for ten or maybe twenty minutes, your body going limp in the black, cold chair when you open your mouth, breathing heavily, your face stained with tears and sweat.

“Dolores.” You say immediately, knowing he will repeat the procedure if you keep silent, your heat beating wildly. “I grew up... on a small farm in Iowa... I had an older sister... and slept with a big teddy bear with a red ribbon...”

“You are lying.” He says simply, and a jolt of electricity cuts through your head, nearly electrocuting you while you scream again and again.

For some reason he always feels it when you say what he wants to hear instead of the truth. What he doesn’t understand is that the truth he wants has been told months ago: you did not remember and you were not going to remember anything from your past. It was stupid to try. There was nothing left of you, and while he thought he was resurrecting a human in you, he was simply destroying your body that was regenerating every night after the therapy.

When you receive a new jolt, shaking and screaming, tears streaming down your face until they fall down onto your already wet t-shirt, you whisper through gritted teeth, “Either I will have you as my Soldat, or I will not have you at all.”

Bucky presses the button.

__________________________

When he is finished he takes you to a bath in the room next to your cell. You almost lose the ability to move for an hour or two, giving him time to prepare you: Bucky undresses you and slowly lowers your body in the tub filled with warm water, watching that you take a comfortable position and don’t slip, effectively suffocating. Today he had almost gone too far, risking to fry your brain: you still refused to give up even after two months of therapy you have gone through, and Bucky isn’t too happy.

Pouring a strawberry-scented shampoo on his palm, Bucky starts to carefully wash your hair that grew longer in the months of captivity, watching that neither shampoo nor the foam gets in your eyes. You are nearly breathless: the serum they gave you made you less stronger than him, but your regeneration abilities are on a whole different level, and soon your body will adjust and erase the damage made.

He asks himself whether keep using the machine makes sense since he didn’t make much progress, the programming still very much in you even after all those incredibly painful sessions. What if you were right from the start? What if there was nothing to remember, and all he could do was to leave you in the state you were in before he destroyed whatever was left of you?

No, he can’t do it. Leaving you means taking away your chance to ever get back to normal life, and he can’t force himself to do that.

Never in his life Bucky Barnes will admit letting you go meant never getting his own happy ending the way he wants it.

“Why reinventing the wheel when you can make it so much easier?” All of a sudden, your hoarse voice whimpers in his ear when you look at him, tiredly moving your head up. “Do what they’ve always done. Use the programming to give me an order.”

A part of him is shocked with the revelation: he wanted to be neither the Soldier nor the one giving him commands. But the other part makes him realize how much easier it would be if he just used what has already been done to you instead of relying on an obviously ineffective method that damaged your mind and body. Of course, he has nothing in common with Karpov sending him on the assassination missions. Bucky only wants you to learn how to become human again, free you from HYDRA once and for all, give you the life you undoubtedly wanted. Even if he uses the same method the organization did until he finds a better way to undo the programming, it is still for your own good.

___________

Tags: @finleyjayne @alexakeyloveloki @helenaeisenhower @villanellevi @hurricanerin @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @navegandoaciegas @rosalynshields @brattycherubwrites @sllooney @angrythingstarlight @lookiamtrying @buckysbunny @soleil-dor @stargazingfangirl18 @dillybuggg @literate-lamb @cosicas-cuquis @sarge-barnes-sir @buckybarnesplumwhore @jaysayey @megzdoodle @gotnofucks @lux-ravenwolf @iheartsebandchris @ximebebx @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @sourpatchspinster

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #dark bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes x reader #Winter Soldier #yandere #MCU

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inkedtae · 4 years

Text

rupture; rapture ⇾ kth. [M]

𝓅𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔 ⇾ ex-boyfriend!taehyung x reader (f.)

𝑔𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒/𝓇𝒶𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 ⇾ one shot, angst, smut, f2l(?), e2l(?), ex lovers au, rekindled lovers(?), sculptor au, 18+

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 ⇾ responding to a late night call for help forces you to revisit truths you so skillfully ignored. was it always meant to fall apart to fall back into place?

𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 ⇾ 13.2k

𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 ⇾ slight upsetting themes, mentions of a new relationship, mentions of infidelity (tae thinks reader used him to each on her date), vague mention of consuming alcohol, switch!Taehyung, mullet!taehyung, sub!reader, unprotected sex, rough sex, clay/paint/art sex(?), hate-love sex(?), makeup sex(?), size kink, oral (f. receiving), multiple orgasms (f.), creampie, overstimulation, a lil degradation, a lil face-licking, body worshipping, clit worshipping, a lil clit biting, choking, spanking, motorboating, begging, teasing, swearing, breath play, breast play

anon asked: taehyung19angst asghjkll. U have a prompt list ? So for that. Maybe. If u want to. WOW. Ur awesome. The bestest. Okay. Bye. Love. Me.

#19 ⇝ “You said you knew how to do this.”

𝒶𝓊𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓇'𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝑒 ⇾ i am aware this is supposed to be a drabble but that never seems to be even for taehyung so here’s a one shot instead. also sorry for writing this so late

☾ banner by ⇾ @editingverse (thank you so so so much dear~ please go give her all your love!! this banner is beautiful!!)

☾ beta’d by ⇾ @kkulmoon (luff you, my soulmate crackhead~)

☾ le playlist

◖send me a prompt from dabble drabble. i will try to get to it as soon as i can. please note that i have the right to refuse any request i find uncomfortable.◗

Navigating to the chipped yellow door is second nature. Four months of distance does not change how easy it is for you to find your way to his place from across town. Your most haunting regret, however, is accepting his call. You sat around your apartment for months, fantasizing about how powerful you’d feel when your phone rings and you see his name flash only to decline the call. You told yourself that is how you will regain your dignity, how you will reclaim your life. He’s been a big part of it since freshman year. Best friends instantly, lovers only a year down the line. Clicking that red button, rejecting his apologies is how you believed you’d be able to move on and fully erase him from your life for good.

But, in the midst of a drink with someone else’s company, he calls and you do not refuse. Your heart flips only to fall and shatter in the pit of your stomach. You press the green button without much thought and bring the phone to your ear. He sounds so unsure, so nervous. A relieved sigh you didn’t realize you were holding escapes you. Eyes watering, you whisper his name.

The shame creeps upon you, condescendingly soothing your ego. Where’s your dignity now? It’s as nonexistent as when you stormed out of this very door and swore never to return. You can hear the fates snickering, watching your pathetic self stand outside of the door. Shaking out a shiver, you gather up the scattered pieces of your courage and knock on the door.

The screech of metal on metal echoes as he unlocks the door. The sound is more comforting than you expected it to be. You can’t remember the amount of times you’ve nagged him to replace the damned thing. It’s old, rusted, and the scratches of the metal make you cringe as though your bones are rotting. It used to make your jaw ache, now it only comforts you. Little things already undress your confidence. What will seeing him again do? What emotions will it beckon?

Misery leaks from your bones and into your bloodstream. The door opens to a vision of grace. In his clay-smeared jumpsuit, the sleeves wrapped around his waist and his bare chest exposed, he stares back at you. Though frozen from the winter air, you feel your face grow hot. Eyes shaking, you don’t know where to look. You’re not even sure if you can meet his gaze. It intensifies with every ticking second his long bangs fall over his lashes. He let it grow out? You’ve begged him to do so for months and once you’re apart he finally gives in? You knew he’d look good, maybe even better than his shorter cut.

The sight only confirms that you’ll never understand him. But, you suppose, you don’t have to. He’s not yours to understand anymore, not even as a friend. That statement should give you a sense of relief, but it only resurfaces the loneliness you’ve been ignoring for months.

Shakily sighing, you plaster a polite smile and greet, “Hey Tae.”

Taehyung parts his lips, but his voice catches. He stares back at you, gaze dancing up and down your frame. He drinks in the way your black dress pants hug your curves, and how you dare to wear a tube-top under your coat in the freezing weather. Gulping, Taehyung flashes you a kind, tight lipped smile and moves aside to welcome you in. His chain looped earring dangles with his movements. It’s such a simple antic, but you cannot fight off the familiar comfort in your chest upon catching it.

Each step back into his apartment fogs your mind with memories of joy and despair alike. Sometimes, those emotions rise in tandem during the same memory, within the same five minute time span. But other times, those memories are saturated with one emotion or the other. You two could never find that balance; not as lovers anyway, not as you thought.

“Make yourself at hom-” he cuts himself off just as the door shuts.

You turn to face him, raising a brow at his slip up. Funny how things circle back no matter how much either of you try to suppress them. This place has always felt like home to you. In fact, revisiting it proves that it still does. He just never let you make it official.

The gloom of four months ago has followed you back in here as well, it would seem. You gulp down the little scratch in your throat and try your best to flash a smile. His brows raise at the gesture. You assume a teeth braced wince paints your features instead.

Clearing his throat, Taehyung corrects himself, “Comfortable. Make yourself comfortable. I’ll grab you a hot drink to warm you up.” His gaze shifts to the slanted window over his little studio sectioned in the corner of his apartment. “It’s really coming down out there.”

Setting your clutch down on his work table, you nod. He glares at your action before looking back at you. You are fully aware of his distaste for you to dump your things near his work, even if it happens to be your own sculpting supplies. However, he distrubed your date tonight and that little slip up of his recalls more anger than you care to accept right now. Playing into his pet peeves is the very least you can do to show him that you’re not here for anything else but fixing his sculpture.

With a pleasant smile plastered on your lips, you peel your jacket off and set it down on the table as well. Taehyung sarcastically smirks then makes his way to the kitchen. You know you shouldn’t but you let your eyes linger on his frame and follow him around the kitchen while he prepares something for you. His shoulder blades flex as he reaches for a mug from the top shelf - a detail you always found makes you anxious because the cups can easily slip out of his hand from such a height and break.

He must feel your gaze as he glances back at you. “You must be freezing,” he comments.

Looking down at your half top, you shrug. “Not really. That’s what a jacket is for.” You shouldn’t sass. It always gets on his nerves. But, the way he regards you with such tamed hostility and smirks all knowingly, switches something in you. You cannot hold yourself back and he cannot expect to call you over here in the dead of night for help only to glare and sneer at you.

Out of sheer spite, you sit on one of the stools by the table and bend down to untie your thick heeled boots. He absolutely hates this. Sloppy and messy, is what he tells you when you come into the apartment with your shoes on and take them off near his studio. Taehyung stirs the contents of your mug, tossing daggers at you in his stares.

It is only now, in the thick silence, do you hear the soft voice of Sinatra through the vinyl player. Glancing over at the source, you recognize the album cover immediately. It’s the same one you gifted him for his birthday last year. His next one is in a couple of weeks. The realization unexpectedly twinges your heart with guilt. You feel as though you should have already bought his gift, and planned his party. It’s not your responsibility to do that anymore, but you want to and that’s enough for your tongue to coat with disgusted remorse.

“Want me to get you a sweater?” Taehyung asks.

You sit up straight at the close sound of his voice. He stands in front of you with the mug in his hands, glaring down at your boots. Kicking them off by the heel, you stare down at the puddle you’ve made beneath the chair. You should apologize but, instead, you thank him for the drink, take it from his hands, and make your way to the project he’s been working on. He mutters curses under his breath before cleaning up the mess you’ve made… As he should.

You smirk into your cup before taking a sip. Hot chocolate. It’s all he can make, or cares to make. And though it is not your favourite drink, he still prepares it to your specifications. Extra sweet and creamy, with a dash of ginger. Could the habits of your past be muscle memory he cannot shake either?

The answer never arrives as your thoughts halt at the sight of his sculpture. Though returned back onto its pedestal, the torso seems to have endured a terrible fall. He’s so careful about things like this. How could he have let it happen? Was the inner wiring he used too heavy? Did he not use enough slip, otherwise known as wet clay, to keep additions in place?

You bite the inside of your cheeks to school your features. Still, there is no hiding the truth. Especially when it’s right in front of you. Redemption is nonexistent. The sculpture is ruined. Tilting your head, you stare at the unfinished molding and try to figure out how to fix it without adding more clay, since he claimed on the phone that he doesn’t have enough to start over.

“Well?” He asks behind you.

Looking back at him, you take another sip then hand him the cup to hold. Taehyung accepts it, bringing the mug to his lips. The gesture is so simple, so casual that you almost miss it. He did it a lot when you two were together. You did it too. It was never a pet peeve but rather something you were proud of. It proved how close you two were, how well you meshed. Sharing food is common between lovers. Only now, that’s not at all what you are.

You stare at him, mouth gape. He licks his lips before taking another sip. The action repairs your heart only for your reality to wreck it all over again. Catching your eye, he raises his brows in confusion. You flicker your gaze between him and the cup, hoping the silent gesture is enough to return his senses.

Eyes widening, he holds the cup away from his face. “Oh,” he hums under his breath. “I’ll, uh, get you a new one.”

“Don’t bother,” you shrug before he can even turn towards the kitchen. “It’s not that big a deal.”

It is. You’re not his and neither is that hot chocolate. He should know better. He should pay attention more. He can see this all in your eyes as you continue to silently judge him. It’s not that big a deal, you repeat to yourself. The way his large eyes soften, the way he pouts is not that big a deal. You have a job to do, feelings to ignore, and a person to never see again. All you have to do is remold the clay and be on your way.

Finally returning your attention to the sculpture, you approach it while pulling your hair back. It’s rather large since he scaled it to be life-sized, so you assume he has some structural wiring in there to keep it in place when molding. You might have to take it out and remold the entire section. But maybe you can simply push the wiring back in place? However, if your theory about the wiring being too heavy is correct, you might face another smash to the floor. So it seems easier to just pull it all out.

“Is the clay still wet?” You ask before poking the shoulder.

It’s tacky, but that’s not enough to keep it from drying. You scan the room for the spray bottle, finding it behind you. Being a sculptor yourself, you know that the clay has to stay wet enough to be able to continue to add and mold it. Your scan of the room reflects that he is close to finishing the project. He has the muse’s head and arms wrapped in air-tight bags to keep them from drying. They just need to be slipped, slid, and smoothed into place. The details also need to be added, but for the most part, he’s just about done.

“If you’re gonna figure it out yourself, why did you ask me?” He sighs as he sets the mug down near a cup of paint water.

His tone is uncalled for. Nothing seems to have changed. He still has a temper and makes no effort to readjust his attitude. You toss him a glare over your shoulder. After spraying some water over the sculpture, you start to dig your fingers into the molding. Taehyung sucks in a sharp breath behind you. You can’t blame him for such a reaction. It must be very disturbing to watch someone else dig through your hard work.

You take off the clay bit by bit, looking for the metal structure wires he must’ve used to keep it all shaped well. However, as you place another chunk on the table, you begin to realize that the sculpture is not hollow, meaning wires have not been used. He simply ventilated the slab of clay to help air bubbles escape when it comes time to fire it.

Furrowing your brows, you look over at him in confusion. He leans back against his work table with his arms crossed over his chest, staring at you. Is this a joke? He doesn’t need your help. He could’ve dug through the smushed clay and remorphed it himself. He’s more experienced than you are; he should’ve known this.

Your anger begins to fester in your chest. He must’ve heard. You still share some mutual friends, so he must’ve heard down the line that you were going out with somebody else tonight. Your outfit of choice is a clear indicator as well. He found out about your date, your first date in the last four months you’ve been broken up, and just needed to ruin it for you. Fuck, you can’t believe you seriously bought his lies again. It’s that stupid voice of his. So deep and soulful, you can never resist it’s lulling temptations.

“What?” Taehyung pushes himself off the table and walks towards you. “You’re pouting like you always do just before you’re about to shout. Is it that bad?”

Is that what he’s doing now? He’s trying to remind you how well he knows you, how well he can read you? If this is just another reminder that no one is like him, you just might prove him right and scream out of frustration. Huffing, you roll your eyes at him. No matter how much your heart flips and flutters at his concern, you will not fall for his stupid games.

He watches in confusion as you clean your hands off with a cloth. “God, (Y/N), what is it? I thought you said you knew how to do this.”

With a dry chuckle, you shake your head and mumble, “You’re still the same liar you’ve always been, Taehyung.”

The perplexed sculptor narrows his eyes. “What did I tell you about mumbling?” He questions in a grumble. “And what the hell are you going on about anyways?”

His tendency to be a walking contradiction will never cease to irk you. He tells you not to mumble then does it himself. Just another pet peeve he’s instilled in you that you can never shake. Then there’s the continuous lies he can never seem to stop telling. For once, why can’t he just be honest?

You toss the dirty cloth at him and make your way to his precious work table only to find that he moved your things to the chair by the door. You rush in that direction instead, and Taehyung follows not too far behind. “I can’t believe you’re still pulling this shit even when it’s over,” you scoff with a shake of your head. “You made it seem like you had no idea what to do. You guilted me into coming back here and for what? To ruin the first night I stopped thinking about you? Well, congratulations,” you drily chuckle as you grab your clutch and turn to face him. “You’ve ruined my night and my date.”

Taehyung pauses mid stride. “Oh,” he rasps, eyes roaming over your body once more. “You had a date tonight?”

Eyes wide, softened, and wet, his next words catch in his throat. All you can make out is a quiet rasp. It’s a convincing act, but you know him well enough to spot his feigned innocence from a mile away. Setting your jaw, you shake your head and sigh, “Not any more.”

You reach for your jacket, but Taehyung is quicker. He snatches it first and holds it behind him. You open your mouth to curse at him when he rushes to say, “Wait, wait.” Hand on your waist, he holds you still.

You freeze under his palm. He’s barely used much force. It’s the simple touch itself that sends you into a trance. The memories of being pinned beneath him, or guided into grinding against his hips rush back to you. Breath hitching, you try to wipe the affection from your features. The searching look in his eyes tells you how bad of a job you’re doing.

“I could fix it myself, but not by myself,” he clarifies. “I just didn’t know how to get you here without making it seem like it’s a complete disaster. Be honest, (Y/N), if I told you I wanted you to sculpt with me you wouldn’t have shown up.”

Be honest. When the fuck have you ever lied to him? The question is tempting to ask, sitting right on the tip of your tongue actually, but you can already tell that you’ve made your annoyance known as concern swims in his eyes. He’s trying to find where he went wrong in his explanation. He’s never done that before. He never notices your discomfort during a fight, but always after the fact. That’s enough to have you consider his explanation, to consider the fact that maybe he has not changed completely, but he’s trying. Perhaps you should start trying too.

Besides, he’s not wrong. If he didn’t make it seem like it was irreversible, you wouldn’t have accepted the invitation over or even thought about ditching your date. Chewing on your lip, you sigh and nod. “Fine, I’ll help you fix it.”

A relieved smile plays on his lips. He removes his hand from your waist, muttering a quiet apology then returns your jacket onto the chair. You set your clutch down on there as well, nowhere near his work, and follow him back to the sculpture. He sprays it down as you take another couple of sips from your hot chocolate.

“When is this due?” You ask as you set the mug down.

Taehyung’s gaze shakes. “At nine,” he reluctantly replies. He sets the spray bottle down. You stare at him in confusion.

The time is both seemingly vague and specific. You furrow your brows, blinking rapidly in hopes that you can reprocess the information for more clarity. When that doesn’t work, you ask, “Tonight?”

“Tomorrow morning.”

Thirteen hours? That’s all you two have to remold and detail a life-sized sculpture. This information alone would’ve had you running to help as well. Why didn’t he just tell you this? Why did he have to lie? No, nevermind his lies. You both have thirteen hours to remold the base, attach the head and arms, and add all the details on all four pieces. It may seem like a lot of time but you also have to let the clay sit for a few hours before firing. However, with a sculpture this large, it might need at least three days to dry. How did he expect to finish the rest on his own?

Nothing is adding up. You know Taehyung very well. You’ve shared sculpting classes countless times. His work comes first; always. He sketches and prepares months in advance for a project since the clay can crack or explode during its bake. How could he not have done the same thing here? He should’ve started this at least four months ago… oh.

Taehyung spares you a nervous glance. He can see the realization of his own reality in your eyes. You swallow thickly, knowing you should just pretend that you haven’t noticed anything. Still, you say, “Tae, we both know that’s not enough time. Even if we split the work, it still needs-”

“Don’t worry about that,” he mumbles. His hands smooth over every chunk of clay he reapplies. “Let’s just piece it all together, okay?”

There is a lot you have to force yourself to ignore in his words and tone. He mumbles orders, and expects you to follow. His voice is deep and cold. He gives you his back while he speaks. It’s but another pet peeve of his that makes you want to pull your own hair out. However, most of all, you have to force yourself to ignore how painful it is. Seeing him again, only an arm’s length away, crumbles your anger and hearing his voice reminds you that he still holds every bit of your heart. You have to blink your tears back at the realization. This idea reeked the moment you considered it. But, you can never stop yourself when it comes to him. A year of friendship and two of love; how can you forget all of that in four months?

Taehyung turns to you, his eyes trailing up from your hips to your chest where they linger. Flickering his gaze back up to yours, he offers a tight-lipped smile. You fail to find it in you to return it. He sighs. Hands by his side, voice heavy with sincerity, he says, “I won’t force you to stay, babe- (Y/N).” His slip up has him frozen in place as well. Clearing his throat, he continues, “I need to get this done and you’re the only other person I know who knows how I like it.”

The familiar pet name gives you pause, but the end of that sentence has you hot all over. Your eyes widen at the alternate implication of his words and you can’t help but choke on your next intake of air.

Taehyung’s expression mirrors yours. Face reddening, he’s quick to correct himself. “No, no, I just mean artistically.”

You cannot find the words to say something, anything to make this situation better. Lips parted, all you can voice are quiet croaks of uncertainty. His large eyes, wide with anxiety, watch you carefully. He’s clearly unsure of how else to soothe your discomfort. He goes to say something else but the words fall short. The scene has your skin crawling with shivers. Shaking your head, you walk around him to smooth out the clay he remolded.

“I’ll fix her waist. I think you should get started on the details,” you say, hoping his words can just fizzle away along with the awkward silence that has fallen over the both of you.

Taehyung takes a deep breath. His eyes remain trained on you for a moment, watching as you match the sculpture’s left side to her right. Then, he circles around you and makes his way to his work table.

Though you should be focused on your work, you still have one eye on Taehyung. The jumpsuit sits low on his hips, and his back is bare of any scratches. Your lasting desire to mark up the blank canvas of his back tightens your core. You can feel your black pants dampening at the thought alone. Your hand gently presses into the mold, smoothing out every piece you add.

With Sinatra’s calm voice circling around the room, you and Taehyung fall into a comfortable silence. The rhythm of your actions, the way you move around each other is like muscle memory. You can subconsciously anticipate the other’s next move and react accordingly. He hands you tools before you need to ask and you accept them without a second thought. It’s easy, comfortable, and so familiar that you almost forget he ruined your plans tonight.

Taking a step back, you wipe your wrist over your brow then assess your work. You’ve been trying to sculpt one of the figure’s breasts, adding clay and rounding out the mold. However, it seems like you’ve undershot a bit and made one mound a bit smaller than the other. You sigh and reach for more clay when Taehyung interjects.

“Leave it,” he says from his place beside you.

When did he step back too? He was just detailing one of the sculpture’s hands. “They’re uneven,” you point.

He smirks. “I like them that way.”

His eyes flicker to your chest again before meeting your gaze once more. You shouldn’t look into that gesture too much, but you do. He can’t say something like that, stare at your breasts suggestively and think you wouldn’t notice. Unless, he wants you to notice. You start to wonder how often he’s thought about your breasts and why he feels the need to incorporate them into his project.

While you remain standing in your place, Taehyung returns to his crouched position and continues his work. You can’t bring yourself to move just yet. You stare at the sculpture, at the curve of her stomach and dip of her waist. She’s full-figured and even has stretch marks on her hips, well the side that has not met the floor still has stretch marks. You need to add them on the other side. But, the shape of her body just looks all too familiar.

No, no, it can’t be. He didn’t sculpt your naked body entirely from memory. And why should he? You’re not a couple and he’s made it clear during those four months of silence that he doesn’t want anything to do with you either. No, this is merely just some consequence. You sigh and get back to work. Those thoughts completely boarded shut out of your mind.

“Were you having fun?” He suddenly asks, standing up to start detailing the sculpture’s breasts.

You glance up at him, about to ask what he means when you remember the date. “Oh,” you hum. You’re not sure how much to tell him, or if you should even entertain him with an answer at all. He’s obviously still affected by the break up if he let it get in the way of his project timeline. What was your date’s name anyway? Morgan, Mac, Mark- Mark! Yes, it was Mark something or maybe something Mark. Fuck, you can’t even remember his name. You’re not even sure where you met up for drinks.

Taehyung pauses his sculpting around the figure’s nipple. He chances a quick look at you, raising a brow. “That bad?” He teases with a playful smile.

His light-hearted tone shocks you out of your thoughts. Maybe you read the situation wrong. Maybe he is over you. Otherwise, why would he ask you about your date so casually, like you two were friends? Or maybe… he’s seeing someone else himself? Sumni did ask for your permission to date him. She was so kind and understanding in her questioning that you couldn’t refuse her. Even if it was a week ago, she would have already talked to him by now and they could’ve already gone on their own date. The sheer thought of Taehyung dating around makes your throat tighten and stomach ache.

“I didn’t stay long enough to make up my mind,” you reply, trying your best not to mumble. Your voice is small though, and tone shot by misery. A wave of hopelessness washes over you at how final everything between you and him feels again. “I don’t think he’s for me though.”

Taehyung hums in acknowledgment or understanding? You don’t know. You can’t pull yourself out of your self pity long enough to decipher it. “Poor guy,” he mutters as he picks up where he left off on the sculpture’s breast.

You carve uneven lines on the figure’s hips, recreating some stretch marks like he had done to the other side. Raising your brows, you question, “What is that supposed to mean?”

He shrugs a single shoulder. “I just know what it’s like to lose someone as great as you,” he explains in a near whisper. “The poor guy is gonna lose his mind.”

Tears sting your eyes. He can’t do this. He can’t guilt you for leaving him, not when you both know that it’s just as much his fault as it is yours. Still, even in the midst of pain, the kindness laced in his words tugs the corners of your lips into a small smile. Is that what happened to him? Did this poor guy, this poor little sculptor lose his mind when he lost you?

You toss him a sidelong glance, whispering, “He’ll survive.”

“He can only pray to.”

What is this? What is he trying to say? So he regrets the way that things ended, perhaps even that they ended entirely. Does he think you don’t? Nothing can change how you feel for him. Nothing can hide how badly you wish you can still call him your own. But, he said it himself. He does not want you around, in such close proximity to him anymore. Two years into, what you thought was, a serious relationship and he does not want you living with him.

“I’ll grow tired of us,” he said. Or does he not remember? Did he forget how he promised he’d get you a key, or help you pack? Did he forget how high he got your hopes? Has the fear of getting bored of your company finally withered away?

What does it even matter now? You both said things you haven’t even attempted to take back. Not a single apology has been issued either. Whatever relationship you once had is gone. You can never get it back. Still, you don’t have the stomach to break it to him. You can’t destroy the last little bit of hope he has in you. You can’t find it in you to tell him that no amount of prayer will get you to willingly return to such a relationship.

“He hasn’t been in my company for too long to miss me. Actually, I’m worried he’s already grown tired of it,” you reply. Guilt immediately sheds your pettiness. You know you shouldn’t have said that. Though, he did egg you on. How could he have expected to bring up such a subject and think that you wouldn’t retaliate?

Taehyung tenses and shifts his jaw, giving the impression that he’s chewing gum, and turns to glare at you. From experience alone, you know very well that when Taehyung chews on his imaginary piece of gum, he’s either cocky, pissed or both. This time he has tears glassing over his eyes. Shame cringes your heart. You can’t bring yourself to look at him again. Getting even does not feel as dignifying as you thought it would. You cannot even find a shred of pleasure in seeing him so speechless.

Parting your lips, you try to soothe the sting of your words, only they all fall short. Every time you try to recollect them, they wither away. It’s almost like your mind is warning you from worsening the situation. But the silence is deafening. Sinatra's voice cannot even fill it. His disappointment is too loud; the shattering of his heart like an explosion. And your pain can never shut up. All you can hear is how miserable your soul is and how depressed your heart becomes upon every glance his way. It’s the soft look in his eyes, even when he’s glaring, and the little scrunch of his nose.

With a deep breath, you turn back to the sculpture to keep your hands busy. As you use the pad of your pinkie to smoothen out the stretch mark lines you’ve carved, you say, “We had a drink. That’s as far as we got.”

Taehyung clears his throat. His hands pick up where they left off around the nipple. “Had I known you were out, I wouldn’t have called,” he sighs.

You try not to scoff, particularly because he sounds surprisingly sincere. Sneaking a glance up at him from your squatting position on the floor, you try to search for his usual tell-tale signs. He always blinks one too many times in the same two minute span when he’s lying, that’s if he’ll even meet your gaze. He’s already looking at you when you begin to search his features. He holds your stare and you start to worry that you wrongfully cursed him before when you were convinced that he knew.

“You really didn’t know?”

He shakes his head. “Why would anyone tell me you’re going on a date?”

“Why wouldn’t they?”

“Would you want to hear that I have been on one?”

“Have you?”

Internally cringing, you snap your attention back on the sculpture. The question simply slipped out. He must know that. Of course you’re curious about his love life since you’ve left it, but you don’t need him to know that. And even if he was prying into your date tonight, you still don’t feel comfortable with him knowing that you’ve been wondering about him too, worrying that he’s found the love of his life and forgotten all about you.

Taehyung chuckles. “Do you really want to know?”

Three? Four? Five? How many dates did he have to go on to be able to ask such a question? You hold your breath the moment you feel your next intake waver. Running your tongue between the gaps of your teeth, you stand up and begin detailing the left breast.

“I’m not going to beg you,” you grumble under your breath while sculpting the nipple. Your eyes shift from the one you're working on to the one he perfected, making sure they’re at least even.

“Never had a problem with that before.”

He does not mutter it. He does not whisper it. He chuckles through the statement, cockiness dripping from his tone. Shooting him a glare, you find his jaw moving, the imaginary gum returning. Taehyung smirks at you, eyes dancing over your features like he’s figured you all out.

You raise your brows at him, lips slightly parted by a little smile. “Once again, Taehyung, your memory has miserably failed you,” you start only to widen his grin.

“How so?”

“You’ve been on your knees far more times than I’ve been on mine. You’ve whined louder too.”

He leans in, wrist against his stomach as he lets out a hearty laugh. You feel a rush of your arousal pool at your core just from the simple sound. Face growing hot, you realize how much you’ve missed this, missed him. He always laughed with his whole body, clutching onto you when clutching on his stomach never granted him any stability. Sometimes he’d brace his teeth in a boxy smile and let out his deep chuckles that way. So endearing, so cute, Taehyung would always loop you in his laughing fit as well.

Biting on the sides of your cheeks, you keep yourself from joining in this time. “Why is that so funny?”

Taehyung shakes his head at you as his laughter dies down. With a smile still gracing his features, he replies, “You’re always begging for me. Oh, I remember once you were on the table and you won’t let go of me and until I, and I quote, ‘rammed into you with the force of a thousand waterfalls.’”

Shit. You remember that day all too clearly. Taehyung had been painting and you were somewhere in the kitchen sketching his hands from a distance since he would always tease you about that. Somehow you found out he’d been painting you nude from memory and wanted to help him out. You began stripping for him, inching closer with every piece of clothing you shed. He watched you draw closer to him, and there was something about the way his eyes drank you in that you could not shake. It just made you giddy all over, dripping for his love by the time you were fully naked and within his reach. You were so horny, you said anything to make sure he ruined you.

Avoiding his eye, you reluctantly reply, “I do not recall.”

That statement tips him off immediately. His endearing innocence darkens; you don’t even need to look over to witness it happen. You can feel it. You can feel his demeanour change. Taehyung sets whatever tool he’s using down and towers over you. Stilling in place, you let him graze the bridge of his nose in your hair.

“Do you want me to remind you,” he whispers before pressing his lips to your ear, adding, “my muse?”

Knees all but trembling, you have to remind yourself to keep your eyes open. His warm breath fans over your skin, prickling goosebumps all over. His fingertips brush up the length of your spine, streaking your back with clay and leaving a chain of shiver in their wake. Then there’s that little pet name. Your soul shudders to hear it again while your core waters.

What does he even mean? How far is he willing to go to remind you how badly you wanted him?

Breath shaky, you gingerly meet his gaze. Noses brushing, you try to ignore how good he smells. His scent is always a cross between chalky clay and citrusy cherries. A whine threatens to slip out and you have to swallow thickly just to silence it. “You can try,” you whisper only to feel his hands on your hips.

The grey clay stains the hem of your black pants and a majority of your skin. Taehyung turns you towards him then presses himself against you. His semi-hard rubs against your stomach, making him groan. Seems like he’s falling apart faster than you are. Did he miss this too? Miss the way you smell, the way it feels to be near you again?

You rest your arms on his shoulders and he guides you around and back to his work table. It’s almost like a little dance, with the quiet music still playing in the background. Faces only a breath apart, the temptation to kiss him only grows. But giving in would only prove him right. After so many months, you cannot grant him this victory of being right, especially since he was the one in the wrong when you left.

When the back of your thighs meet the edge of the table, Taehyung shifts his hands down to your ass, gripping tightly and he lifts you up against him and onto the table. You have to choke back a moan just from the rough grip. Your lips brush against each other’s, but neither one of you is willing to bite the bullet first.

“Any of this familiar yet?” Taehyung asks. His voice is almost an octave deeper, saturated in lust and desire.

Smirking, you shake your head.

Taehyung tongues his cheek and cocks a brow. He leans back a bit, hands circling around your waist to rest on your thick thighs. His cocky grin widens as he pushes them further apart. One of his hands shifts up to your crotch, thumb grazing the seams. Face lighting up, Taehyung glances down at your crotch and brushes over it once more.

“No panites?” He questions with a chuckle. “This is looking more and more like that night then I thought it would.”

The confidence he oozes should annoy you, but you find yourself only spreading your legs further for him. Whenever he’s acting this egotistic, you cannot help but respond to it by giving yourself to him. This is a fact he knows well and uses to his advantage any time he’s ever felt like it.

You try to keep your wits about you, saying, “I wouldn’t know.”

Taehyung suddenly leans in. Your breath hitches at the realization that he’s swallowing his pride, that he’s finally going to kiss you. You’ve been dreaming about his lips for months, wondering how you’d be able to find someone else who just fits ever so perfectly against your lips. Eyes fluttering closed, lips in a faint pucker, you’ve inhaled deeply only to have him kiss your chin. He chuckles quietly against your skin, licking his way to your jawline all while leaving you breathless.

“You’re about to,” he growls.

As your body is in the midst of reacting, he somehow digs his nails into the seams of your pants and tears them apart. You gasp, shifting your hands from his shoulder to the edge of the table. You cannot help but stare down at the tear in amazement. Questions on how and why die in your throat when you find that Taehyung’s attention is not even on you anymore. He’s tightening his grip on your thighs and gazes down at your pussy. It pulses under his gaze, much to his own amazement.

Squatting down, he licks his lips at this new angle. “Well, fuck,” he whispers. “How long have you needed me?”

Four months, you wish you had the courage to say. Instead you breathlessly reply, “I’m not sure this is what happened that night.”

“How would you know? I thought you didn’t remember.”

He’s only teasing but his tone is accusatory. You already know it’s because you’ve refused to answer his previous question. And your decision to talk back only adds to his shift in demeanour. Once cheeky, his features darken into something closer to vexation. You’ve pushed the wrong buttons it would seem.

Narrowing his eyes, he orders, “Tell me, my muse. Tell me how long you’ve been needing me.”

You suck in a sharp breath. Pressing your lips together in a fine line, you refuse to make another sound, let alone utter another word. You’ll be damned if you have to admit that you regret walking away, that you cannot even remember the details of your date because all you could think about was everything he would do differently. Having to admit that for the last four months all you’ve been able to do is touch yourself to the thought of him or cry wouldn’t just be motifying but shameful and pathetic.

With a slow nod, Taehyung sighs. You think this is it. He’s ripped your pants apart, looked at every inch of your barest part, and teased you all for nothing. You’d maybe ask to borrow some pants, and he might give you some. But, other than that, nothing would’ve come from this interaction. The flirty comments and knowing looks would disappear with your relationship, this you feel you are sure of.

Then, he plays against your expectations; something you should have expected. Just when you’re about to bring your legs together, Taehyung spreads them apart further and shoves his face between them. He cannot use his hands there since they are covered in clay and, it seems, he also refuses to use his tongue. You cannot hold back the moans that pour out of you with every ministration. Merely smearing his face into your heat, Taehyung teases your clit. The bridge of his nose trails between your folds, lips pressing wet kisses to your tightening hole. From left to right, he shakes his face against your pussy.

You buck your hips against his lips, lacking shame and restraint. “Tae,” you moan, voice breaking.

Taehyung pulls away. Heaving and eyes half-lidded, he smirks up at you. He’s drenched in your arousal, looking like the cat who got the cream. “How long?” He mewls.

“Gimme your tongue,” you whine.

Taehyung mockly pouts up at you. He always looks prettiest on his knees, pretending to be in charge from such a degrading position. “Would you tell me then, babe?”

Your hips inadvertently roll at the pet name. You love it when he babies you like that, when he makes you feel so precious and fragile even though you both know you can rule over anything you want. Hesitantly, you nod. He raises a brow, waiting for verbal confirmation that you’ll tell him once he gives you his tongue.

With a little shrug of a single shoulder, you reply, “Why don’t you give it a try, TaeTae.”

His left eye twitches. You know exactly how that name affects him. His anger and powerful demeanor tremble when you dwell on him like that. He doesn’t need to tell you that he’s suddenly yours to overtake; his large eyes do the trick.

Swiping his tongue over his lips, Taehyung cleans his mouth from you. One little taste and his pupils expand, blown by lust and hunger. You don’t have to waste anymore time convincing him that you’d answer his question if he goes down on you. Your taste seems to be enough of a factor, in itself. He dips his head back in, tongue out this time. The tip pushes through your hole, lapping up your pooling juices. Leaning back on your hands, you gasp a loud moan. He knows his way around so well. One flick up, and your toes are curling. No amount of time apart has disturbed his memory of you. This may have been something you noticed while sculpting but now you can feel it. Tongue in and out, warm and wet, Taehyung explores your pussy like it’s his first time, only he knows everything about it.

You want to tangle your fingers in his hair, to see how the long strands feel in your hand, but they’re covered in clay too. And you know from experience just how hard it is to get clay out of hair. Once it completely dries, it almost seems like the only other option is to cut it all out. So, instead, you just dig your nails into the table, engraving your presence in the wood.

Rolling your hips into his face, you cry out your pleasure. Your legs are shaking, squeezing around his face, but he can’t seem to care any less. In fact, judging by his groans and growls, he seems to love the suffocation. He even pushes your legs further against his cheeks. Freezing in place, Taehyung only allows his tongue to continue to swirl around your pussy. His fingers harshly press into your thighs, sure to leave bruises, but you don’t care. Having him mark you up just like when you were together, is enough to make your eyes roll back.

You’re so, so close. Pussy clenching, his tongue still pushes its way in. He’s determined to see you through, to have you unfold right in his hands so hard that he still won’t breathe. And though you start to worry a bit, you cannot really pay attention to anything else besides the pleasure.

“Oh, Tae,” you cry. Voice breathy and high-pitched, it’s only a matter of time before-

It hits you hard, fast, and completely off guard. You have felt it growing and knotting in the pit of your stomach, but have no idea it would rush at you this harshly that you completely fall back on the table. Body convulsing, you scream and cream all over his tongue, mouth, and chin. His entire face will smell like you for days.

Taehyung forces your tightening legs apart, gasping for air. Gazing up at you, he sticks his tongue out and against your clit. He’s determined to help you ride out your high and nods his head up and down. You watch him through blurry vision, shamelessly rocking your hips up to meet him halfway. Or, at least you try to. Soon, you become all too sensitive to even hold his gaze, let alone grind against his tongue.

You fight against his hold on your legs, whining loudly. “Okay, okay,” you gasp as you try to seat yourself up.

He doesn’t care. That once yielding look in his eyes flashes into a demanding one. Seeing you so helpless under him shocks him with power once again. “One more time,” he pants against your heat.

“TaeTae,” you mewl, attempting to manipulate your way out of this overstimulated feast.

However, the use of the name this time, only spurs him on. He knows what you’re trying to do and doesn’t at all find it amusing. This time when he repeats his words, he growls, “One more time!”

Lips suctioning around your clit, he harshly sucks. Slurping and swallowing everything you have to offer, Taehyung holds your gaze. You’re a trembling mess. Tears falling freely down your face, you curse him three times over and buck your hips against his mouth. He finds the entire sight so humorous, he can’t help but smirk.

You’re still his little toy, a play thing for him to fool around with and test out some kinks on. The realization should make you curse him again and again, but you can only play into it. Pouting and mewling, you’ve fully sold yourself out just so Taehyung is well fed with your juices.

This is the peak of his games, you think. This is as far as he will go and you expect that you’ll cum in another minute or so. But then his teeth graze your clit once, twice, three times. You come undone within seconds. Arching your back, you let out the neediest cry you’ve ever heard and pathetically cum against his chin. The shudders and shivers of your body are beyond your control, as is your broken voice and any lasting grip you thought you had on reality.

As if biting and sucking your clit isn’t mindbreaking enough, Taehyung dips his tongue back in you to sneak another taste. “Taehyung, please,” you beg. “Please!”

He finally lets up, removing his face from your sopping heat and releasing his hold on your legs. You instantly bring them together and hug them into your chest. Heaving and shedding your last few tears, you try to recompose yourself and the silent atmosphere you once shared while sculpting.

“Strange,” he starts, returning to his feet. He takes his hands in yours, slowly unwrapping the hug you’ve cocooned yourself in. “It sounds a lot like that night. But, that’s not at all what I was doing then to make you this needy.”

To anyone else, you would've looked fucked out and completely ruined. But Taehyung knows that’s not at all the case. He has tested your stamina enough to know that you can most likely go for another round or two. Pulling your legs apart, he stands between them then helps sit you back up.

Faces inches away, you exchange breaths. “How long have you been this needy, my muse?” He asks again.

He really does smell like you. His cheeks, nose, chin, and lips are smeared with your cum. It doesn’t even look like he was feasting. It almost looks like he just wanted to cover his face with your juices. Gulping, you consider his question. You did insinuate that you’d answer the question if he gave you his tongue. And, holy fuck, did he give it to you. However, an insinuation is not a promise. He made that clear during your last argument.

“I don’t remember promising anything,” you whisper in a light pant.

The pain in his eyes cannot be neither mistaken nor missed. Echoing his words all these months later, surely recalls suppressed emotions of misery and betrayal for the both of you. He sneers a smirk, glaring at your lips. “Your memory has failed you,” he hisses. Gripping onto your hips, marking you there with bruises as well, he adds, “But, I won’t.”

“Not again, anyway.”

You sound colder than he does which causes him to hesitate for a moment. His hands fall by his sides as he searches your face for some sort of confirmation to continue. He almost seems like he’s not sure if he really wants to pick up where he left off too, seeing that you’re still upset with him. The guilt of seeing him so fragile and wounded eats away the majority of your anger. But, if he thinks he’s the only one struggling to make sense of this break up, he’s wrong.

Right now, the only way you can think of showing that to him is by first displaying your eagerness to continue in this sexual stroll down memory lane. You lean forward, brushing the tip of your nose against his, and reach down to his crotch. The dent in his jumpsuit throbs in your hand. His hard cock all but pulses under your palm as you rub at it. His breath hitches. You then untie the sleeves of his jumpsuit and watch carefully as his cock comes back into view. Fuck, you’ve forgotten just how pretty it is when it’s all pink tipped and desperate to be pumped. He shifts a bit, you assume to step out of the jumpsuit, and resettles his hands back on your waist.

Not another moment of uncertainty stands between you anymore. Swallowing his pride, Taehyung kisses you first. Lips on lips, the taste of yourself on his tongue has you moaning already. He seems to take this as a sign to let himself go as well. He pulls you closer to the edge of the table and rolls his hips into yours. The length of his dick rubs between your folds, but he doesn’t enter. Not yet. He simply teases the idea of entering, of ruining you.

But, you’re too overstimulated to enjoy it in its entirety. Your legs resume their little shudders at the tiniest bit of friction when his cock just happens to brush against your clit. Taehyung, upon noticing this, makes sure to touch it with every new grind against you. He smirks when you whimper into his mouth and chuckles a bit when you break the kiss to whine his name.

“What is it, baby,” he coos. He grounds his hips harder into yours, erupting moans from the both of you. “Ah, shit, I could just cum like this,” he hisses as his mouth hovers over yours.

A little smirk tugs on your lips at his words. Yes, you may be helplessly falling apart with every passing second. However, watching him come undone from the impression of your pussy against his cock, is a rather prideful moment. You tilt your head and begin peppering his chin and cheeks with open mouthed kisses, staining his face with your saliva now as well as your cum.

“Then, just cum, TaeTae,” you whine.

Perhaps if you didn’t sound so desperate, he probably would’ve switched back into his own submissive state. But, it’s the squeal in your voice and mischief in your tone that only drives him further down his power trip. He pulls away a bit, holding your horny gaze with an unimpressed one of his own. He realigns his hips as his jaw shifts. He’s pretending to chew gum again. Holy shit, he’s going to fuck you senseless.

He does not push into you though. Instead, he pulls you onto him by the deadly grip he has on your hips. You stare up at him as a loud cry escapes you with every inch that stretches your walls. Taehyung looks back with very little remorse in his eyes. The sight of you so small in his arms, whipped for his cock, makes his tip twitch a bit. But he is not immune to the action of entering you, sucking in a sharp breath.

“I can’t believe I forgot how tight you were,” he whispers, voice breaking.

And you thought you could never forget how big he is, but here you are. Eyes rolling back, you relish in his size like it the first time. “Big,” you mewl as he bottoms out. “Tae, you’re so big.” You sound just as broken as he does.

He cannot even find it in him to be cocky about it. He hears the realization in your voice. He knows you’ve forgotten too. A flash of pain twinkles in his eyes. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and whisper. “Remind me, Taehyung.” His brows quirk up and you add, “Remind me how good you make me feel. And I’ll remind you the same.”

Taehyung presses a gentle kiss on your forehead. Then, his hips snap in action. Holding you close, he starts hard and fast. He’s naked and growling into your ear with every thrust. You’re clothed and whining with every rumble of his chest and jerk of his hips. You didn’t even have to beg to bring out such a feral side of him. Could it be that he’s looking for the same thing you are? A lost lover?

Clay smeared fingers pressing into his skin, you push away that thought and scratch at his back. That once blank canvas of muscle and skin will now be lined with your lov- lust. This is just lust. You have to remind yourself of this fact every time he pushes into you.

He quietly hisses with each streak until he pauses his thrusts. You pout, leaning back a bit to ask if anything is wrong. But before you can even part your lips, Taehyung is readjusting his grip from your hips to your tube top.

“You’re a fucking slut to dress like this for him,” he growls. Then, in one swift motion, he pulls it down. You gasp as your breasts spill out, not out of exposure, but simply shock. He grips onto the rolled down top and smirks. “They’re a little uneven,” he points out. “But, I like that about them. Does he too? Does he get to see you like this, slut?”

You’ve got it wrong. It’s not your use of his nickname that has sent him spiralling into a pit of dominance, but rather that you went out to see another man. Is that why he ripped your pants apart? He’s destroying the outfit he thinks you wore for somebody else. Not only that, but his words only confirm that he is indeed sculpting you. All from memory, Taehyung has been molding your naked body down to the precise imperfection of your slightly uneven breasts.

And while you’re still trying to make sense of it all, he slaps one of them causing you to moan and throw your head back. Taehyung grabs a hold of your chin and drags your head back down to meet his gaze. “Answer me,” he seethes. “How much of you does he have?”

“None!” You shout. Your breathing is uneven, and you have to swallow the lump in your throat to continue, “I don’t even remember his name; he’s irrelevant.”

Taehyung circles his hips around yours, clearly pleased with your reply. But he does not pick up where he left off. “You haven’t been able to remember a lot tonight. Is that all irrelevant to you too?”

The shake of your head is reactive. You barely even had to think about it. This act of pretending that you don’t feel anything for him anymore has clearly fallen. “That’s not it, Taehyung,” you whine, hooking a leg around his waist. He wipes the tears streaming down your face as you continue, “I just didn’t want to remember us.”

Licking his lips, Taehyung slowly pulls out and eases himself back in. You tremble, watery eyes twitching in bliss. “Tell me how long you’ve been needy, baby,” he whispers.

“Have I not said enough already?”

You clutch onto his biceps and buck your hips up to meet his. He gasps, unable to hide his smile. You can tell he wants to finish this conversation but, with the way your walls are tightening around him, he doesn’t seem like he’s able to. One look in his eyes and you can tell he’s consumed by the pleasure all too much to reply.

Taehyung lets one hand fall to his side when he starts to pick up his pace. You shift one of your hands to his shoulders while the other holds onto the table’s edge. He holds you by the grip he has on your rolled tube top and smacks his hips against yours. It’s almost as if he’s riding a horse with the way he’s fucking you. And if you don’t whine loud enough, he’d slap each of your tits and force those screams out of you, growling, “You can do better than that.”

Removing your hands off him and back to the table, you accidentally rest your hand on one of his palettes. You gasp, looking over to find your hand smeared with blue and yellow hues. Taehyung laughs and rams into you faster. “You’re just making a mess wherever you go, hmm?” he teases.

You pout. He’s having too much fun making a mockery of you. Granted, you’re loving the attention, the way he’s fucking you into submission and realization, but you cannot let all this go to his head too much. As he smacks your breasts once more, nipples a little raw as they sting, you wipe your hand on him, down from his cheek to his collarbone.

He gasps, but his hips never stutter. Before you can even register his actions, Taehyung readjusts his grip from your top to your breasts and shoves his face between them. He transfers the swirl of dark blue and gold all over you as he fucks you as senseless as you predicted.

And as he playfully punishes you, blowing raspberries into your chest, you find yourself missing this, missing him. How could you have forgotten he likes to get playful, that he can switch between his two demeanours so seamlessly? He giggles when he pushes your breast into his face and further stains them with paint.

“The only one making a mess is you,” you rush to whine as your impending orgasm nears.

Dipping your hand in more paint, you rub the colours on his back and shoulders. You’re going to colour him yours if this is the last thing the two of you do together. Paint on his skin, in his hair, all over him, you’re going to make your impression here last through all the moans and whines and lewd slouches of your sensitive wetness around him.

Taehyung kisses his way up to your lips. He slips his tongue in once he reaches them and rolls his hips into you particularly harder than before. He can feel that he’s got you trailing the edge of your high. Thrust upwards, Taehyung reaches your most sensitive place. Every ram into it makes you shudder, toes curling and moans pouring into his mouth. One of his hands shifts up to your breast, massaging the smeared paint in, while the other holds your hips in place.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whines against your lips. “Come back to me.”

He can’t do this. He can’t beg you to come back with his dick shoved so deep in you like this. You’re so fucking close and he knows this. He can feel every inch of you tighten around him and desperate to be released. It’s cruel of him to manipulate you like this, to kiss you like he’s lost in the moment when he’s really just lost in you.

Kissing his way to your ear, Taehyung feels your pussy quiver. He smirks, thrusting hard enough to move the table back, and growls in your ear, “Come back to me, my muse. Cum.”

You fall back onto the table, body a total shaking shock as your orgasm washes over every inch of you. With one hand trembling over your lips, your other grabs onto one of your tits in an effort to brace yourself from the rush of ecstasy that overcomes you. The moans and whines that leave you are no exception to your convulsing state. Their breathless, broken, and blaring as you practically scream out in bliss.

Taehyung enjoys the show, watching you forget how to breathe from his place between your legs. He’s still going fast and hard, groaning when he feels you coat his cock in your cum. Mesmerized by the sight of your unheld breast bouncing with each of his thrust, he slaps it. You squeal at the sting.

And as you try to look at him, still riding out your orgasm, Taehyung’s cock twitches only to paint your inner walls with his missed affections. He falls forward, over you, burying his face between your tits again. You push them into his face and shake them against his cheeks, hearing him growl over your heart.

At some point, he stops thrusting and opts to circling his hips into yours. It’s all the same to you. Your legs continue to shake and your heart still races. Drenched in sweat, paint, and clay, you two lie there for a second longer. Even while growing limp, Taehyung feels so full in you.

He peels himself off you. His face, glistening in paint, looks like Van Gogh’s starry night, his eyes being the sparkling stars. He smirks down at you before trailing his gaze lower. That smile falls with every part of you he realizes he has ruined. Your chest is exposed and covered in colours, shirt non existent, pants clay stained and torn straight down the middle, and pussy a sopping mess of your mixed cum when he pulls out.

“I did make a mess,” he pants.

One step back, then two, then three. He distances himself from you as if ashamed of his work. You slowly sit up and cross your legs. Already, they feel strained and sore. But, they’re the least of your worries. It's the way that Taehyung winces at the sight of you, that has your heart somersaulting into your stomach. You swallow thickly between heaving pants and watch him carefully. He’s completely bare and looks even more broke than you do. His gaze looks vague and face sickly. Shaking his head, Taehyung runs a hand through his hair. He looks so annoyed with himself, he cannot even find it in him to laugh at the fact that he only got more paint in his hair.

Crossing your arms over your chest to cover yourself up a bit, you say, “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

He blinks repeatedly, snapping his attention back up at you. “Why aren’t you disturbed by this?” He questions, voice all but breaking.

Your eyes scan up and down his frame before your brows knit together in confusion. Is he referring to his naked body, or that the two of you just came to the thought of dating each other again? Still, why is either of those things worth being disturbed over? A naked Taehyung post sex has never been a bad sight and, though things did end horribly, the thought of being with him again doesn’t seem so bad now. Did he not mean it when he asked you to come back? Was it just something to get off to? Are you just something to get off to?

“What?” You whisper now that your anxious train of thought has robbed your voice.

“Aren’t you dating?” He clarifies. “That poor guy. I can’t believe I just let us do that.”

You’ve never seen him this distressed. He walks back to you, just to grab his jumpsuit and briefs. He can’t even bear to look at you as you stare back at him in complete confusion. What does he think happened here? That you cheated? Clenching your jaw, you can't believe that he could think that low of you. Then again, you never did blatantly say that it was your first date since the break up. In fact, now that you think about it, you did make it seem like you were in a relationship with someone else.

Taehyung hastily gets dressed as you try to hop off the table without falling on your face from how weak your legs are after such a fucking. “Tae,” you start only to have him walk away. With a sigh, you call after him. He ignores you.

What the hell are you supposed to do now? You sure as hell can’t follow him with your legs so sore and he doesn’t seem to want to talk to you. And even if you could walk, your clothes are ruined and it would take a while for an uber to get here with all the snow coming down out there. The distant spray of the shower directs your attention to the hallway Taehyung escaped down to get away from you. Great, he’s showering and left you here to figure this all out yourself.

Taking a seat on the floor, you decide to give your legs a moment to rest before ordering yourself an uber and hoping that this night ends soon. You should’ve listened to your gut and rejected his call. You shouldn’t have agreed to this, or come here, or let him remind you just how much you miss and love him. All you ever wanted was- is him. If it haven’t been for this whole stupid issue about moving in, you’d still have him.

But, no. You had to force him into a step he wasn’t ready for. You lost him then and you came back to watch yourself lose him again. Is that it? Is that why you didn’t even explain yourself to the poor guy that was sitting across from you at Rollos. Yes, Rollos; that’s where you went for drinks. Wow, your memory really hasn’t served you well tonight. You hope you forget this tomorrow. You hope you'll be able to forget how pathetic you feel, how hurt he sounds, and how you lost him all over again.

“Get up,” Taehyung orders. His voice is rough, like he had been sobbing.

Looking over to him, you find that could’ve actually been the case. His face is tear streaked now as well as paint smeared. He stands a good few feet away from you, glaring down at your woefully ruined frame. “Taehyung, I’m not-”

He doesn’t seem to want to hear any of it. “Get up,” he repeats. “Go shower. I have some clothes for you to wear then I’m taking you home.”

“Tae, just liste-”

“Delete my number. We never talk about this again. And if you’re at all like the person I loved, you’d tell him the truth.”

Is he seriously judging you right now? You’ve barely even had a chance to explain yourself. He really doesn’t want to listen to anything you have to say, cutting you off like you’re less than him. You cannot help but scoff at him and his words.

Taehyung sighs. “Just please get up, (Y/N).”

“I’m not dating anyone.”

His superiority falls. The life returns to his face as he approaches you but you recoil into yourself the moment he steps forward. Pausing, he tilts his head at you. “What is it?”

What is it? This man is going to be the death of you. “You just shamed me for something that wasn’t true, Taehyung!” You shout.

“I thought you were cheating with me!”

You use the table to help yourself up and dryly chuckle. “Ha, yeah because lying is such a normal thing to do, right? I’m as twisted as you, Taehyung.”

“I lied because I knew saying no would hurt you. Why can’t you see that I was just looking out for you?”

That one sentence makes you freeze in place. Is he really that fucking dense? He can’t seriously believe that looking out for someone you love involves lying. Slowly turning to face him, you don't even make an effort to hide your tears anymore. “You were looking out for yourself and you know it!”

“I just didn’t-”

“Want to grow tired of me.” You finish for him in a mocking tone.

Taehyung huffs, shaking his head. “That’s not what I was going to say. Would you just let me finish?”

You’re done with this stupid conversation. All you want to do is go home and get as far away as possible from him and the way he smells and the fact that even though you hate him so much right now, you want him to come and hug you and tell you everything is going to be okay. But, he’s just so annoying. And you can’t bear to look at him anymore with that cold glare consistently being directed towards you. You’ll wait outside for the uber. Hell, you’ll just walk back to your apartment. Anything to get out of here and away from him.

In an attempt to follow through, you try to make your way towards the door, but your legs almost instantly give out.

“Jesus, babe,” Taehyung hisses, rushing to your side.

It’s not even just the fact that you’re sore but your ripped pants are starting to rub up against your cum leaking pussy. You whine a bit and try to shake him off in order to jump back onto the table. But, you’re thankful he stays by your side because you definitely cannot get up there alone with your lacking upper body strength.

His hands linger on your thighs, softening eyes locked on yours. A hint of a smirk plays on his lips before he says, “I remember doing this to you often.”

Yes, leaving you limping around the apartment was his favourite pastimes. He liked to watch you struggle to walk after every intimate moment. In fact, he always felt like he didn’t do his job right if you’re not limping. He’d go ten times rougher the next time around and then cuddle you to his chest, cooing reassurances in your ear. Was it bad that you wanted that all the time? That you wanted to sleep and wake up in the same bed he does everyday?

Slow tears roll down your face as you take his hand art stained in yours. “It was my first date since our break up,” you confess. “Sumni asked for your number… and for permission to go out with you. I just felt a little hurt that you were moving on.”

“She called.”

Your heart has shattered too many times tonight to even react to his words, but you can feel your soul shudder. She called. And did he answer? Did he have a drink with her too? You want to ask but your pride swallows your questions whole. All you can bring yourself to say is, “She’s a nice girl.”

He nods. Squeezing your hand, Taehyung wraps his arm loosely around your waist and stands in front of you. “I told her I wasn’t really ready to see anyone else yet,” he tells you, pressing himself against you.

The gesture is not at all sexual and you do not interpret it as such. Rather, it is tender and comforting. He releases his hold on your hand to wipe your tears, letting his own fall. Licking his lips, he whispers, “What’s his name?”

You shrug.

“Come on,” he half-heartedly nudges your legs. “Tell me.”

Does he think you’re trying to spare his feelings? Meeting his gaze, you can’t help but smile. He looks so cute, so precious in front of you. Playing with his hand, your fingers looping around his, you reply, “I don’t remember. I only spoke to him for half an hour or something.”

He cannot hide his smile, but avoids your gaze. Even still, you can see the relief within them. He seems to be pleased that you’re just as miserable as he is, pining after someone you cannot have any more.

“Is that why you came over?”

You shake your head before you can even think the action through. And the words leave your lips just the same, “I just missed you.”

“I really missed you too,” he croaks, rushing to say the words like he can’t believe them himself. “God, I’ve just wanted you back for so long.”

He’s all but sobbing in front of you. Parting your lips, you’re about to tell him that he doesn’t have you, not yet anyways. The fact is that he still lied, and has continued to lie to manipulate you. This cannot be forgiven so easily. You love and miss him dearly, but surely you cannot just take him back without discussing the cause of your break up first.

But then, Taehyung burrows his face into the crook of your neck and lets himself fall apart. Hugging you close, he cries into your skin. You cannot hold back the sob that tears through your throat just from the mere sound of his choked breaths and wet tears against you.

“I’m so sorry,” he cries as you cradle his head. “I’m sorry.”

The broken tone of his voice is enough to make you whimper into his hair. He sounds so fragile. This break up, you realize, has torn him inside out too. Pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead, you try to console both of your fears. But every sob trembles your courage and every drop of his tears makes you recoil in guilt and shame. How could you have done this to him, to your relationship?

He shudders a breath as he pulls away. Red in the face, wet streaks staining his painted cheeks, he cups his hands under your jaw and says, “Look, you can move in right now, okay? Alright? I’ll get your things tomorrow. I’ll give you Jungkook’s key. He only comes here to steal our food anyways.” Just stay, please (Y/N).”

His voice is shaky and tone all but heartbreaking as he chuckles at his own little joke. The desperation is real and hard to deny. You cannot even open your mouth to even voice your reservations about dating again. Clutching onto his jumpsuit, you try to revert your gaze to your lap in hopes to find your courage and tell him that you need to talk first. Only, Taehyung dips his head low to catch your eyes again. He’s determined to have you stay. And your silence only provokes more tears.

“I promise I’ll never tell another lie,” he sobs. “I promise I’ll never let my worries get in between us again. Please, baby, just please stay. Say that you’ll stay.”

You cannot watch this for another moment longer. There’s lots you still have left to discuss, like why he’s so worried about growing tired of you, and why he felt the need to lie in the first place. But his promise to never do it again is enough for now. And you just can’t sit here watching him cry any longer. You pull him towards you, pepper his cheeks with gentle kisses then cradle his head.

“I’m not going anywhere, Tae,” you mutter into his hair. “Mostly because I can’t.”

Your attempt at a joke causes him to choke out a chuckle. He showers the crook of your neck with wet kisses, muttering into your skin, “I love you.”

Rapturing in a relieved frenzy, your nerves dance within your bloodstream and repair your ruptured heart. You let out a deep breath you didn’t even realize you were holding. “I love you too,” you cry.

The last four months haven’t granted you a shred of peace. You’ve lived and re-lived that argument over and over again, praying you can just go back and fix it all there and then. But, maybe… maybe it all needed to fall apart to fall back into place. Maybe it needed to rupture to rapture.

tags: @miinoongi, @jenotation, @allannahmalik, @taeshuworld

note; please do not leave hate towards me or any other readers. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my work without my permission.

#bangtanfairygarden #btsguild #networkbangtan #ficswithluv #btswritingcafe #winterbearnet #vantenet #btswritersclub #magicshopnet #bangtanhq #btsgoldnet #taehyung smut #taehyung angst #kim taehyung angst #kim taehyung smut #bts smut

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babymetaldoll · 3 years

Text

Danger days - Chapter two: "I'm the kinda that you wanna"

Pairing: Matthew Gray Gubler x OC + My Chemical Romance.

Word count: 5.5K

Summary: Joey faces MCR after their awful first meeting. Matthew supports whatever she decides to do with her life. Gerard is still kind of an asshole, and Frank tries his best to be a better person.

Warnings: Cursing.

A/N: WOW!! I can't believe you are actually reading this!! thank you for the love!! I was gonna post this tomorrow, but... here it is.

Masterlist

::: Los Angeles, October 14th, 2010 :::

Mikey ate his breakfast alone, sitting at the kitchen island. He was thinking about the daily schedule, the band's upcoming tour, and clearly, the severe problems in his marriage, the one subject he kept trying to avoid.

His wife was still asleep, and he didn't want to be around when she woke up. He knew it only meant another fight. Whenever they were in the same room, it always meant an argument, and Mikey was tired of it all.

It was clear they had to get a divorce, but neither of them had brought it up just yet.

He and Alicia had grown apart in the latest months. It was hard with him touring for so long and his wife staying home, persuading her own future in the music industry. And after so much time apart, they were both tired of trying. It just wasn't working anymore.

Frank and Ray were staying at the same hotel. They drove together to the practice studio, doing their best to agree on their ideas about Joey. But they weren't really on the same page at all.

- "Just don't be an ass, ok?"- Ray said when he parked outside the studio, and Frank immediately lit a cigarette.

- "Yeah, whatever,"- Toro got out of the car and closed the door, staring at his friend leaning against the wall to smoke alone- "I'll be right there."

Iero grabbed his phone and read the messages in a vague attempt to think of anything else. But that didn't help at all; Joey parked her car just before him that very second.

- "Shit!"- the two of them said at the same time. Frank put on his dark sunglasses, and Joey grabbed all her things from the passenger seat.

- "I can't catch a break!"- she argued as she opened the door and decided to get over the horribly awkward moment- Hey!- she smiled and waved as Frank nodded- "How are you?"

- "Good, you?"

- "Good..."- and it was still awkward- "So, thank you for inviting me again,"- and Frank nodded again, not saying a word- "I'll... head... inside then."

Joey tried to smile, but it was too uncomfortable to bear. So she ran away.

- "Did you catch the game last night?"- Mikey asked as he sipped his coffee, while Ray grabbed a guitar and started tuning it.

- "No, I played video games until late."

- "What are you playing?"

- "Red dead redemption"

- "Cool, and Christa?"

- "She's back home with her parents,"- Ray kept turning the guitar and never noticed Mikey's sad face- "And Alicia?"

- "She's home. She was sleeping when I left."

- "Is everything ok?"

- "Yeah"- and again, Ray was so concentrated on his guitar, he didn't catch a glimpse of Mikey's sad look.

- "Hello"- Joey walked in, and the two guys smiled- "Am I too early?"

- "No, you are just on time,"- Ray stood up and grabbed a cup of coffee- "I got you this."

- "Oh! thank you!"- Joey was surprised by the gesture- "You shouldn't have."

- "I owed you,"- Toro kind of blushed as Joey held the cup and took a sip.

- "Black, no sugar. How did you know?"

- "I didn't know if you liked cream, and I got a lot of sugar on a side"- Ray quickly answered and showed Joey a bunch of sugar bags on a tray.

- "You nailed it."

- "Hey"- Mikey kinda whispered in a low voice- "I'm sorry, I thought you were getting us coffee and stuff yesterday."

- "Dude, it's ok, don't worry,"- Joey smiled and kept drinking her coffee- "Now I know if I get the job, I can get you black coffee with almond milk to brighten your day"- and he chuckled.

- "And thank you for coming over again."

- "My pleasure,"- Joey answered and stayed quiet looking at the two guys- "So... I saw Frank outside."

- "Yeah, he was smoking, and Gerard should be right here by now,"- Mikey took a look at his wristwatch. It was almost noon, and he knew his brother was going to be late.

Gerard was driving and smoking, trying to devise anything to avoid going to the studio and doing another audition with that woman. He didn't want to. Why? Way really didn't know. It was something inside of him that made him feel like he should stay the fuck away from her 'cos something terrible might happen. And he didn't want to find out what it was.

- "Hey"- Frank waved at Gee when he walked out of his car- "You are late."

- "Yeah, I didn't want to come,"- and Iero chuckled- "What are you doing here?"

- "I didn't want to get in just yet."

- "Is she here already?"

- "Yeah... she got here all happy like fifteen minutes ago."

- "Fine... let's get this over with,"- Gerard walked in and did his best not to look annoyed, which was virtually impossible, 'cos he couldn't stop frowning.

As soon as they walked into the studio, the image was Joey, Ray, and Mikey laughing like they were already best friends. And that got Gerard even more upset, if possible, and because of no reason at all.

- "Hey!"- Mikey stood up and hugged his brother.

- "Hi, nice to see you again,"- Joey reached out for Gerard's hand and smiled to do the same with Frank.

- "Thank you for coming,"- he whispered and cleared his throat. The drummer looked around at the band and started the speech she had prepared in her mind the whole morning.

- "Guys, I just wanted to clear the air here. If you don't want me to do this and you just called 'cos Tucker asked you to, there's no need to go through all this shit. I can go home, no hard feelings or anything"- and the band stayed quiet. Ray looked at Frank and waited for his words.

- "Joey, we just... why did you call Tucker? that was so rude!"

- "First of all, I didn't call him, he called and annoyed me for ten minutes before I told him what happened. And second, you were rude, you barely looked at me, you didn't even pay attention to what I did, and you clearly made up an interview to ask me to leave."

Joey directed those words looking right into Gerard's eyes and just spit the words, knowing that wasn't really gonna help her get the job.

- "Tucker didn't really lie, guys,"- Mikey said and tried to ease the mood- "You were rude at her, and I'm sorry to tell you, she's the best we've had so far."

- "Do you honestly think we can work together after what happened with Tucker?"- Gerard asked her, and she shrugged.

- "If you deal with the fact you were rude to me, then yeah, I've got no problem with it,"- and Frank huffed at that answer.

- "You made us look bad in front of a friend."

- "No, you looked bad in front of me, and when Tucker asked how had it been, were you expecting me to lie and tell him it was awesome? come on!"- Joey frowned, knowing that ship had sailed already- "This shit is high school all over again!"

- "I feel the same!"- Ray said and stood up- "Ok, let's get this straight, you two were assholes! And that's the main problem here! if she did or did not call Tucker to tell him about it, that's not the point!"

- "But dude!"-Frank tied to argue, but Ray stopped him.

- "No! this is our job, and we have to be professional. So now you are gonna be a grown-up, and you are going to apologize for being an asshole with no reason to her, 'cos she just came to apply for a job, ok?"

Ray looked more like a dad than like a band colleague at that point.

- "Sorry, Joey"- Frank whispered and looked down at his shoes. Ray looked at Gerard and raised an eyebrow

- "I'm sorry I was a jerk"- he mumbled

- "And I'm sorry I told Tucker you were assholes. He was really excited about the audition, and he was just trying to help me out. It clearly didn't work out, but he meant good."

Joey tried to be as nice as possible, thinking shit had gotten way too bad to even think about playing with this band.

- "Ok, now I'm gonna go so you can continue your drummer hunt."

- "Wait!"- Mikey held her arm and cut her a smile- "You should jam with us for a while."

- "I don't think that's a good idea. This got too complicated. And whether I'm good or not, I don't want this to be awkward for you. You are looking for someone to work with, it's your band, and you should be comfortable with who you choose."- Joey smiled and grabbed her bag- "I just wanted to thank you for apologizing and for caring about what happened. I'm gonna tell Tucker you are all very nice."- she joked, and the band looked at each other.

- "No, really, stay. We didn't ask you to come because of Tucker. We did it because we really want to give your audition another go,"- Frank's word surprised Joey. She wasn't really able to say a word back; she just nodded and smiled.

- "Great!"- Mikey clapped once and grabbed a bunch of papers from his bag- "I printed you some of the sheets of our songs,"- Joey held them and read them

- "Cool"

- "So... wanna warm-up?"

- "I already played two hours before I left the house."- she whispered, embarrassed of her confession- "Sorry, I just have this weird routine. I work out, eat and play in the early morning, just to get me through the day not killing anyone."

And Mikey chuckled. Frank kinda bit his lips to don't smile. He found it funny.

- "Great, then let's set us up,"- Ray smiled and walked to grab his guitar- "We remembered you were left-handed, so Mikey and I rearranged the drum set for you,"- Gerard raised an eyebrow staring at the scene.

- "Why is Ray so nice with her? Is he crushed on that girl? no way! he is a married man! married guys don't have crushes! it is impossible".

Joey read the music sheets and nodded. She had studied most of the songs, and though she had never been a huge fan of the band, she liked it enough to easily follow the tempo of each tune.

Gerard looked at her playing and hated the fact Mikey was right. She kept following each change they were doing and even threw a few herself that worked perfectly. He hated it 'cos she made it fun, and he wanted to hate her. Very childish of him, but yet, that's how he could describe it.

Frank looked at Mikey and then at Ray as they all played "Thank you for the Venom" and knew in his guts this was it. Musically this is what they needed. And also knew it was a shitty situation 'cos he had already made an enormous fuss and didn't really know how to fix it.

- "Shit!"- Ray said as soon as the song ended.

- "Yeah, that was great."- Gerard said and smiled. He knew he couldn't get away with it. Shit worked. And it worked awesomely- "Can we do "Parade"?"

- "Sure, just let me read it first. That's a long one,"- Joey said and grabbed one of the sheets. Mikey walked to his brother and raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to admit it.

- "I hate you."- Gerard whispered.

- "I know, just say it"

- "No"

- "Say it"- Mikey raised an eyebrow and kinda chuckled.

- "You were right. She's good,"- Gerard whispered, and his brother nodded.

- "God damn, I'm right!"

- "Ok, let's do this before I totally forget it..."- Joey said and smiled- "And who's gonna play the G note?"- the whole band stared at her, and she shrugged- "G note, not G spot, don't get scared"- Gerard chuckled, and he hated himself for it- "Come on pervs, let's do this!"

Somehow, Joey felt a little more in place between the guys, probably 'cos being a drummer, she was pretty used to hang out with men, from her teachers to classmates. She used to have girl bands growing up, but she found it easier working with guys professionally.

- "So, lunch?"- Ray asked and left his guitar aside. They had been jamming for over two hours.

- "Nice, I'm starving,"- Mikey did the same and turned to Joey- "Wanna come?"- she froze and looked at the whole band from behind the drums- "We are gonna go grab something to eat."

- "Yeah, then we can continue the practice,"- Gerard added and walked to the door. Joey kept in silence and looked at Mikey, smiling sweetly.

- "Ok... sure."

- "Great!"- Ray smiled- "Come on, are you a fan of Indian food? There's a fantastic place a few blocks from here!"

Frank sighed and walked outside to light a cigarette. He was sure Ray had a thing for Joey, and that upset him, most of all 'cos, just as Gerard had thought, Ray was a married man, and a happily married man, he shouldn't care about Joey that much. He was way into making her feel good. And that made Frank uncomfortable. And most of all, like a jerk for being mean to her in the first place.

- "Hey"- Joey appeared by his side all of a sudden and scared the shit out of him- "Sorry!"

- "I didn't know you were coming behind me."

- "Everybody had to pee. Apparently, they all have a small bladder,"- Frank grinned, lit a cigarette, and offered Joey one- "Thanks, I quit a few years ago."

- "Really? why?"

- "'Cos I stopped breathing... and found out I was asthmatic, which made total sense when I gave it a thought"- Frank nodded.

- "I shouldn't smoke either. My lungs are shit; I'm a bronchitis magnet."

- "I feel you"- Joey opened her backpack and took out her coconut butter hand cream. Frank looked at her and sort of smiled.

- "Do you want some? it's gonna be good to keep those tattoos from washing away"- Frank left the cigarette on his lips and grabbed the cream.

- "You are not even in the band yet, and you are making me use hand cream."

- "Tell you, what if I get the job I'll make sure I'll keep you moisturize every day,"- the young woman winked at him and saw the rest of the band walking towards them. She didn't notice Frank's face, who had turned purple after those words.

Matthew took a look at his clock as he walked outside the set. Joey should be back home by then, so he dialed her number and waited.

- "Hey, Akumu!"- he heard Joey's cheerful voice at the other side of the line and smiled.

- "Hey, Yami! How was it? Did you get the job? were those guys nice to you? are you ok?"

- "You are not gonna believe this, but we talked about it, and I have the feeling things are pretty much clear between us."

- "That's great, dorky! What are you doing now? are you back home?"

- "No, we came to grab something to eat, and then we'll continue rehearsing."

- "So you are still with the band then?"- Gubler was surprised, but happy things were working.

- "Yeah, and how's the reading going?"

- "Good, we've been at it the whole morning, now I'm about to eat something, and then I'll keep reading my lines."

- "Looking like a maniac pointing a fake gun made with your fingers?"

- "Just like any other day"- Matthew made a pause as he kept walking in circles, thinking about his girlfriend hanging somewhere with that band- "Hey, are those guys being nice to you?"

Joey looked back at the table where the band was eating and nodded, knowing her boyfriend couldn't see her.

- "Surprisingly, yes. They are all being very friendly. They apologize for being assholes yesterday."

- "Wow, really?"

- "Yeah, we had a weird deep talk in the morning. I think shit is cool now."

- "I'm glad, Yami."

- "Yeah, I've got the feeling they might actually give me the job."

- "That would be awesome."

- "I know! Anyway, Akumu, I have to go. I gotta do my best to be nice with these guys."

- "Please, don't be too nice. They don't really deserve it,"- Matthew joked, and Joey chuckled.

- "You are right, but mama needs to work."

- "But daddy can take care of you,"- Joey chuckled, making her best to process that information.

- "I love you so much, Gubler, but I can deal with this on my own."

- "I know you can."

- "Thank you."

- "I just wanna help."

- "Your support and love are all the help I need to make it."

- "So, what are we gonna do?"- Mikey asked his brother, and Gerard cleared his throat, looking at Joey talking on the phone on the other side of the diner.

- "I know you want her to stay, guessing Ray is dying to work with her,"- Gerard raised an eyebrow at his friend, and Frank nodded.

- "Yeah, you are way into that chick."

- "No way! I'm just trying to be nice 'cos you've been jerks."

- "Oh, come on!! you've got jizz all over your underwear!"- Frank's comment made Mikey laugh and almost choke with his lunch.

- "Dude, you went too far!"- Ray argued, disgusted- "And no, I don't have a crush on her, I just feel bad you made her so uncomfortable, and I'm trying to make it up for her."

The band looked at him in silence as Mikey kept coughing.

- "Dude, are you ok?"- Joey asked as she sat back at the table- "Do you want some water?"- and she reached out her glass to him, who took it and drank most of it.

- "Thanks"

- "What happened?"- the young woman asked, and Mikey smiled, breathing a little better.

- "We were talking about jizz"- Gerard covered his face with both hands as he heard his brother talking, and Joey laughed, nodding.

- "I'm so happy I was far away from you,"- Joey said and closed her eyes, pretending to be disgusted- "Anyway, Matthew says hi,"- she smiled at the band and continued eating.

- "Is he on set?"- Frank asked, staring at his food.

- "Table reading, tomorrow they start rehearsal and all those things I don't really remember 'cos I love him, but sometimes I don't follow all the steps into the shooting process."

They all smiled and nodded in silence for a moment. Gerard looked at Frank and lift his brows. Iero sighed and nodded.

- "So... do you wanna play with us for the next couple of months?"- Gerard just put out the question and stared directly into Joey's eyes. She looked at him surprised and didn't know what to say- "We have a very long tour, so we have to compromise to make it work."

- "I thought you hated me."

- "I don't hate you, none of us hates you... we just started with the wrong foot, but I think we can make it work,"- Gerard finished his words, nearly whispering. Joey's heart was racing. She couldn't believe she got the job, this was by far the best job Jo had ever have, and she couldn't wait to tell her parents. They were gonna be so proud.

- "I would love to play with you guys, thank you for the offering,"- Joey answered and grinned- "And again, I'm sorry for Tucker and all that shit."

- "Nah, forget it"- Ray quickly replied- "We know you are right for the band right now."

- "But if you are gonna be with us, we have to talk about the legal agreements"- Mikey said- "I hate that part, but we have to talk with our lawyers, do the paperwork."

- "Sure, not a problem."

- "And we are gonna need a tutorial to learn how to fucking spell your last name,"- Frank added and make everybody laugh. He looked at Joey smiling, and it felt like those few seconds were in slow motion, without any reason. Iero knew he was going to remember that particular moment for the rest of his life. He just didn't know why yet.

- "Yeah, what's the problem with your last name? when I called you yesterday, I had to practice it for a half-hour."

- "And you misspelled every single fucking letter in it, sorry"- she said to Ray and took a sip of her coke before she answered- "It's from Iceland, dad's from there. And my mom is from Colombia, which explains Maria Josefina ... I know, weirdest mix ever."

- "Wow, and what the fuck the last name thing?"- Frank asked and finished his food

- "Well, there your last name is defined by your father's name, so my dad's name is Sveinbjörn Sigmundsson"- the whole band stared at her with a blank look on their faces.

- "Sorry, what?"- Frank asked again

- "Sveinbjörn, it's a very common name."

- "Sure! sure it is!"- Iero laughed, and so did Joey.

- "Anyway, over there, your surname is your father's name and, in my case, the noun daughter, in Iceland, dottir, so my last name is Sveinbjörn, my dad's name, plus dottir, get it? Sveinbjörndottir, 'cos I am Sveinbjörn's daughter"- Gerard nodded and asked

- "And if you were a boy?"

- "I would be Sveinbjörnson... what's your dad's name?"

- "Donald"

- "In Iceland, you would be Gerard Donaldson"

- "Shit! my name would suck in Iceland!"- Frank grabbed his head and scratched it- "I would be Frank Frankson!"- and he burst out laughing

- "Dude! you are so lucky you are from Jersey!"- Ray said and turned to Joey- "So Maria Josefina is your mom's heritage and Sveinbjörndottir your father's."

- "Exactly, and that's why Joey is the best way to avoid people getting mistaken with my name."

- "Seems legit"- Gerard said and looked at everybody smiling. He turned to Joey and tried to study her face for a moment. Sure, her skin was paperwhite, and her eyes were slightly green, but she didn't look like the classic island chick you might imagine. Maybe there was too much Colombia on her.

- "What is it?"- she asked him when she found him staring at him.

- "Nothing"- he blushed and finished his coke- "I was just... trying to find any Icelandic feature on you"- she frowned immediately and didn't answer a word, obviously upset- "Sorry..."

Gerard drove back with Mikey. He wanted to avoid Ray being too nice at Joey, 'cos it still bothered him. And Mikey needed to talk about anything random with his brother to keep his mind busy.

- "Hey, maybe we should do something tonight"- Mikey asked his older brother.

- "Like what?"

- "I don't know... wanna go out? Maybe see some bands? Peter told me there are a few cool shows around this week."

- "Yeah, sure, let me ask Lynz if she wants to join us? what about Alicia?"- Mikey looked over the window and cleared his throat.

- "No, she told me she was meeting some friends tonight."

- "Everything ok?"

- "Yeah, it's all ok"- Mikey wasn't even making an effort to sound ok, but Gerard didn't notice- "So, thanks for what you did."

- "What did I do?"

- "You took an executive decision for the band"

- "I hope Frank doesn't kill me"

- "He won't"

- "And I stand by the fact Ray has a crush on her"

- "I don't think so"- Mikey's phone hummed, and he lazily read the text, "I'll stay with my parents tonight." Just what he needed, a confirmation of his lie. His wife was going to be nowhere to be seen that evening.

- "Hey, Lynz asked me to get something for dinner. Wanna grab something with us, and then we can go out?"

- "Sure."

Frank wouldn't stop talking. At some point during lunch, he just stopped trying to hate Joey. He ended up making joke after joke from the minute they got into the rented car until they reached the studio. He was so nice even Ray got worried. But then he thought Frank was probably overcompensating that girl for being such an ass before.

- "Ok so, Tucker ran naked from the studio, got into the car, and drove to get a burger wearing nothing but a cap?"- Joey nearly peed laughing at Frank's story.

- "Yeah!"- he reassured, laughing too- "And the studio was in this basement, and the family of our friend lived upstairs and completely saw him running around mooning everyone"- the drummer couldn't stop laughing, picturing her friend running naked all over.

- "Shitface never told me that story!!"

- "Oh, it's a good one!!!"- Frank chuckled and turned to look at Joey in the backseat- "So why were you touring with him?"

- "'Cos I had an awesome band, and we opened for Thursday for a few dates. I was still in college back then, and Tucker was like my older brother. He taught me a lot and saved me when I was drunk a couple of times, primarily for getting into fights."

Frank smiled and kept looking at Joey for a few seconds, and she cut him a big grin.

- "How come you don't have a band right now?"- Ray asked her and forced Frank to turn around and look at the road.

- "How says I don't?"

- "Do you?"- Joey laughed for a second.

- "No. My last band broke a few months ago, and I've been working on a few projects, but I haven't found people cool enough to share it with,"- Ray and Frank nodded in silence as they parked outside the studio.

- "Ok, kids. Back to work"- Ray said and opened the door. Joey did the same and smiled at Frank when he let her pass before him. She was sure he was extra nice to make up for being such an asshole with her before. And Frank was sure he had to stop being so nice at her 'cos he felt he was about to overstep the line, but he couldn't stop. It was like he stopped hating her to fully endorse a friendship with the girl one minute to the other

- "Get your fucking shit together, Frank."

Around five-thirty, Joey got into her car and sighed. She was exhausted and yet so fucking excited she felt she could run back to her place yelling. She had to wait until she was somewhere safe though, the band could walk out of the studio any minute, and it would be too embarrassing. Embarrassed herself in front of the band's first day working with them was something she wanted to avoid. It was too soon to show her real colors. No need to let them know she was a dork just yet. They had a whole tour to find out.

As she drove back home, she thought of everything that had happened that year. It surely didn't have a great start. Moving to Los Angeles to try to give it a go in music had been hard, really hard. If it hadn't been for her parent's support, she wouldn't have survived. But then she met Matthew, and it felt he could make everything better like magic. On top of that, she now had a real job playing with a huge band. That was a huge reason to celebrate.

- "So, what do you guys think?"- Gerard looked at the band and raised both eyebrows- "Is this shit gonna work?"

- "I don't see why not"- Mikey simply answered and grabbed his phone. Zero news from his wife. Not surprised either- Rehearsal was pretty well

- "No, I mean touring with a girl."

- "Oh, knock it, I thought we had passed that stupid problem,"- the youngest Way looked at brother pretty pissed- "Just grow up!"

- "Aren't you a little too sensitive?"- Gerard frowned and sat back on the couch.

- "No, I'm just tired. I don't wanna hear any more shit about how weird it will be touring with a girl or if Ray has a crush on her."

- "He totally does"- Frank quickly said, chuckling, though he felt slightly out of place saying that considering now he was extra nice with her too, and he didn't have a crush on her.

- "Very mature,"- Ray didn't pay attention to those words and looked at the band- "What we should be doing is preparing the setlist for the tour."

- "Is Brian coming tomorrow?"- Iero asked, walking around looking kind of bored.

- "Yeah, he said so, at ten, I think, to see the venues, schedules, crew. The usual,"- Ray answered and kept typing on his computer- "So, setlist?"- Frank's phone rang, and he walked away immediately.

- "Does anyone remember the name of the movie we watched the other day at my house?"- Gerard asked, looking at the ceiling.

- "The setlist"- Ray repeated.

- "No, it was the Hayao Miyazaki about the little girl."

- "Spirited away"- Ray quickly answered- "Now please! the setlist"

- "Do you think she was tripping?"- Ray looked at Gerard, annoyed, and closed the laptop- "What?"

- "I'm trying to work here, and you are not even listening!"

- "No one is. Why are you blaming me?"

- "Because you are not helping!!"

- "Wanna do the setlist, let's do the fucking setlist"- Gerard grabbed a notebook and a pen and started writing down the name of the songs- "There! A fucking setlist!"

- "What the fuck is your problem?"

- "I have no problem!!"- Gerard kind of shouted.

- "Can you guys please stop yelling?"- Frank asked, annoyed as he turned around, covering the cellphone and giving his bandmate a severe look.

- "Sorry"- Gerard whispered and look down at the sheet of paper.

- "What is going on there?"- Jamia asked her husband.

- "Shit has been kind of tense these last couple of days."

- "Why? preparing the tour?"

- "Yeah"

- "Did you guys find a new drummer?"- Frank sighed and walked outside to smoke a cigarette.

- "Yeah, we signed one today"

- "Great! What's his name?"

- "Joey, with an unpronounceable last name,"- Iero closed his eyes and took a deep breath before he added- "And it's her name... we booked a girl for the tour"- Jamia stayed quiet, processing the information- "She is friends with Tucker, he recommended her, and she is the best drummer we had."

- "Is she nice?"

- "Yeah, and her boyfriend is very nice too,"- Frank knew he had to add the boyfriend factor into the conversation quickly- "She is dating the nerd guy from Criminal Minds."

- "Really? he is hot"

- "I guess... anyway, we've been dealing with the drummer issue most of today, so shit is kind of sensitive."

- "Why? Someone didn't want to work with her?"

- "Well... I didn't"- Frank murmured

- "Why not?"

- "'Cos... I don't know. We've never included a girl in this band."

- "Maybe it's an excellent chance to do something different."

- "Wait, you are not upset we are touring with a girl?"- Frank frowned, not getting his wife's attitude.

- "Why should I?"

- "I don't know? 'cos bitches be crazy?"

- "Franklin Anthony Iero! you take that back!"

- Why are you middle naming me for?"

- "That was sexist!"

- "Sorry, I just thought you were going to be against this whole idea"

- "I think it's cool"

- "Really?"- Frank was in shock- "You are not going to freak out?"

- "No, I'm not going to freak out."

- "Thank you"

- "Besides, she has a really hot boyfriend. Do you think she can introduce him?"

- "Jamia Iero!!"

- "What? It's not like I'm gonna cheat on you. I just wanna stare at him... I bet he is tall"

- "Ok... that's weird for someone who has been a little too sensitive over fans lately,"- Frank joked, but that might have been just a huge mistake.

- "What are you saying? That I'm a psycho about girls around you?"

- "No, no, no honey, it was just a joke"

- "An awful joke"

- "I'm sorry"- Frank took a long drag of his cigarette and sighed- "How are the babies?"

- "Sleeping... I was gonna eat dinner and go to bed too 'cos I'm too fucking tired."

- "You should. Is your mom staying at home with you tonight?"

- "No, Evan is here today. He did some grocery shopping and cooked dinner"

- "He is awesome"

- "Yeah, he is on diaper duty until one, so I better get some rest"

- "Go, honey, talk to you tomorrow, ok?"

- "What are you gonna do tonight?"

- "Drive back to the hotel and play videogames with Ray"

- "Exciting"- Frank chuckled at his wife's words and stubbed out his cigarette.

- "Love you, honey"

- "Love you too"

Jamia was full of it. She hated the idea of Frank touring with a girl, but she knew making a tantrum was worse. They had had too many arguments about female fans already. The last thing she needed was to start a new one. But how was she going to deal with this new drummer? She seemed to be a major threat.

Joey walked into her apartment and jumped around in hyperventilation. She had tried her best to control her emotions all the way back home, but after she closed the door behind her back, there was no way she could stop her excitement.

- "I can't fucking believe this!!"- she yelled and jumped around the place until she finally laid on her bed and hugged a pillow. For the first time in a long time, she didn't feel like a loser. And for the first time ever, she could call her dad and make him proud, giving him the news of her new job.

Taglist: @all-tings-diego

#my chemical romance #mcr #matthew gray gubler #criminal minds #mikey way #ray toro #frank iero #fanfiction #babymetaldoll writes

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edenmemes · 4 years

Text

red dead redemption 2 starters

❝ in these books life seems so simple, but in reality… i can’t make head nor tail of it. ❞ ❝ listen to me. when the times comes, you gotta run and don’t look back. ❞ ❝ i ain’t afraid of dying. ❞ ❝ i’m still standing, which is an improvement on the last time you saw me. ❞ ❝ i still think about you. that was...that was quite a time. ❞ ❝ people don’t forget. nothing gets forgiven. ❞ ❝ your father would rather you did not do anything so foolish. ❞ ❝ forgiveness, well...it’s just an easy way of saying ‘i don’t care no more’. ❞ ❝ i know you like to hide behind the angry moron act, but it’s a thin enough veneer. ❞ ❝ when somebody doesn’t lie in this world and you don’t lie to them, then together you can achieve great things and destroy great powers. ❞ ❝ i remain a fool, and i’m sure i shall die a fool, but i’m trying very hard to be something like the man you deserve. ❞ ❝ i am always honest, maybe not always good, but i'm always honest. ❞ ❝ why you got that guilty look on your face? ❞ ❝ i trust i will not make a god awful fool of myself once more-- but somehow i imagine i shall. ❞ ❝ please don’t go to any trouble on my account. ❞ ❝ you ain’t gonna die. not yet. ❞ ❝ feels like things have changed...the whole world has changed. ❞ ❝ i feel like we haven’t spoken for days. ❞ ❝ we’re thieves in a world that don’t want us no more. ❞ ❝ we can’t change what’s done. we can only move on. ❞ ❝ just do one thing or the other. don’t try to be two people at once. ❞ ❝ we’re more ghosts than people. ❞ ❝ how can romance ever be silly? it’s all we have. ❞ ❝ vengeance is an idiot’s game. ❞ ❝ i don’t think we can go much further on the horses. ❞ ❝ i'm surprised we escaped at all. ❞ ❝ you’re...i was gonna say you’re like a son/daughter to me. ❞ ❝ you’re...i was gonna say you’re like a son/daughter to me...but you’re more than that. ❞ ❝ this is a new low, even by your standards. ❞ ❝ i do my utmost to avoid you. ❞ ❝ i thought the whole point was that this had nothing to do with you? ❞ ❝ i’m sorry to complain. it’s just so... ❞ ❝ i need you now...more than ever. ❞ ❝ face me to the west so i can watch the setting sun and remember all the fine times we had that way. ❞ ❝ do you ever miss home? must be hard, being so far away. ❞ ❝ you know, we’re gonna need to come up with a better story for that scar. ❞ ❝ there’s a good man within you...but he is wrestling a giant. ❞ ❝ you saved my life. you’re a good man. ❞ ❝ there’s only one of me. i don’t intend for them to know i’m coming. ❞ ❝ i thought you were trying to make me feel better. ❞ ❝ be loyal to what matters. ❞ ❝ you know, i don’t think i’ve ever seen you squeal before. ❞ ❝ i'm miserable. been a tough few days. ❞ ❝ i trust your judgement. always have. ❞ ❝ i'm just gonna...have a little sit down and...feel sorry for myself. ❞ ❝ i tried. in the end. i did. ❞ ❝ one day, folk will take orders from me...and trust me, it won’t be no laughing matter. ❞ ❝ here, take a drink of this. ❞ ❝ seems like there ain’t much else in this world except bastards, victims of bastards and the bastards who want to put the bastards in the ground. ❞ ❝ we’ll get off this mountain soon enough. ❞ ❝ i haven’t slept in three days. ❞ ❝ just thought you might’ve moved on by now. ❞ ❝ thanks for coming for me. ❞ ❝ you got sad eyes...like you’ve seen sad things. ❞ ❝ you always said revenge is a luxury we can’t afford. ❞ ❝ you don’t hire a saint to catch a sinner. ❞ ❝ you’re alive! oh, you’re alive! ❞ ❝ go. now. i’ll hold them off. ❞ ❝ are you okay? i mean you no harm. ❞ ❝ i'm nobody. ❞ ❝ what about you? you doubting me too? ❞ ❝ it’s enough to make a man drink. or worse. ❞ ❝ i knew not to trust, yet i had no choice. ❞ ❝ there ain’t no more time to talk. go. ❞ ❝ thank you, for your strength. it means a lot to me. ❞ ❝ firstly, we ain’t friends. don’t make no mistake on that subject. ❞ ❝ i'm so bored i’d rather be shot. ❞ ❝ it’ll mean a lot to me...please. ❞ ❝ you’re gonna sleep with your chest open if you ain’t careful. ❞ ❝ the bond we share, it’s the most real thing to me. i would kill for it, i would happily die for it... ❞ ❝ life is full of pain. but there is also love, and beauty. ❞ ❝ my pa used to say you stare into the fire long enough you can see the whole world pass by. ❞ ❝ whenever we happen to meet, you’re always helping people and smiling. ❞ ❝ do as you’re goddamn told. and shoot well. ❞ ❝ i guess he never outgrew his anger. kind of like you. ❞ ❝ some trees flourish, others die. some cattle grow strong, others are taken by wolves. some men are born rich enough and dumb enough to enjoy their lives. ain't nothing fair. you know that. ❞ ❝ you’re driven by powerful forces i scarcely understand. ❞ ❝ oh you fool. you sad, deluded fool. torn in two by different ideas of who you were, and it turns out you weren't neither of them. ❞ ❝ well, i think you’re as slippery as an eel in an oil slick, but still a man/woman. ❞ ❝ with you watching over me, i’d walk into hell itself. ❞ ❝ lack of something to feel important about is almost the greatest tragedy a man may have. ❞ ❝ when i was your age, i fought. i saw death. i have killed. ❞ ❝ i wish things were different. but it weren’t us who changed. ❞ ❝ nobody’s taking anything from me ever again. ❞ ❝ some jobs aren’t for saving and some legacies are for pissing on. ❞ ❝ you're my favorite parasite... no, wait, ringworm's my favorite parasite, you're my second-favorite parasite... i lied. ringworm, then, rats with the plague, then you. ❞ ❝ just leave it to me. i can talk a dog off a meat wagon. ❞ ❝ forgive me if i slip and stab you in the face. ❞ ❝ this place, ain’t no such thing as civilized. it’s man so in love with greed, that he has forgotten himself and found only appetites. ❞ ❝ shut up...you know, you’re not very nice to me. ❞ ❝ the amount of hell we’ve raised, we’re owed some back. ❞ ❝ i haven’t done anything wrong aside of not playing the games to your rules. ❞ ❝ don’t let yourself get killed...for pride. i’ve seen it kill too many folk. ❞ ❝ when you fall, there’ll be a party. ❞ ❝ every day i didn’t kill you, is a day i saved your life. ❞ ❝ i can’t kill them all silently so, when they chase me, you go the other way. ❞ ❝ does this seem like a good time for sarcasm to you? ❞ ❝ usually i’m worse than the wolves. ❞ ❝ i don’t have to be careful. i have you as a friend. ❞ ❝ i wish i had acquired wisdom at less of a price. ❞ ❝ they’re chasing us hard, because we represent everything they fear. ❞ ❝ you know all that mattered to me was loyalty? it was all i ever believed in. ❞ ❝ never thought i’d say this but...it’s good to see you. ❞ ❝ we’ve all lived bad lives. we all sin...but i know you. ❞ ❝ i kill people. and maybe i should’ve killed you. ❞ ❝ ain’t you a sorry sight? ❞ ❝ your job’s starting the fights, it ain’t winning them. ❞ ❝ some big, loud mouthed bastard tried to rob me when i was out riding so i... well, you know how it is. ❞ ❝ there ain’t no shame in looking for a better world. ❞ ❝ i can hunt, carry a knife, and use a gun. ❞ ❝ ...is it too late for us? ❞ ❝ if the purpose of life was to be liked...it would be very boring indeed. ❞ ❝ i’ve been running for as long as i can remember. ❞ ❝ they turned me into a monster. ❞ ❝ i always wondered if i was unlucky...but maybe i’m just not very good. ❞ ❝ don’t kill yourself over pride. i’ve seen it kill too many folks. ❞ ❝ sorry if i seem a little desperate. i am a little desperate. ❞ ❝ if anyone gets close to me, they’re wanted too. and i can’t have you wrapped up in that. ❞ ❝ there’s all kinds of nasty people who want to speak to you. ❞ ❝ they won’t hear anything about you from me. ❞ ❝ tell me about you, darling and armed to the teeth like that. ❞ ❝ i also...found out some unsettling news about you. ❞ ❝ i don’t know how to say it...thank you. ❞ ❝ you...don’t like me much, do you? ❞ ❝ i can’t lie to you. i’m a wanted man. ❞ ❝ that’s quite a scratch you got there. ❞ ❝ take a gamble that love exists, and do a loving act. ❞ ❝ i’m seeing things a lot more clearly now. ❞ ❝ where are you? can you hear me? ❞ ❝ i think someone saw some wolves, not far away. you should watch out. ❞ ❝ guess all i got now is doubt. doubts and scars. ❞ ❝ it wasn’t me who went and shot him. ❞ ❝ will you dance with me? ❞ ❝ i like you. you’ve got a kind face. ❞ ❝ i’m not a good man. not usually. ❞ ❝ there’s a lot i should’ve done and even more i shouldn’t have done. ❞ ❝ you are a compulsive liar. ❞ ❝ next time, i’ll slit your throat myself. ❞ ❝ as long as we get paid or you get shot, i’m happy. ❞ ❝ i'm not designed for this snow. ❞ ❝ you don’t get to live a bad life and have good things happen to you. ❞ ❝ shut up you silly man and kiss me. ❞ ❝ who made you the messiah of these poor souls you’ve led so horribly astray? ❞ ❝ maybe it’s a sign. try to do the good thing. ❞ ❝ how many times do i gotta bury you? ❞ ❝ you are the only feller who could get half of their brain eaten by wolves and end up more intelligent. ❞ ❝ five thousand dollars? for me? can i turn myself in? ❞ ❝ if you find yourself in a hole, the first thing to do is to stop digging. ❞ ❝ we ain’t both gonna make it. ❞ ❝ i gave you all i had. i did. ❞ ❝ if we have to fight, we fight. If we have to run, we’ll run. if we must die, we’ll die. but…we’ll stay free. ❞ ❝ people call me lazy. i’m not lazy, just don’t like working. there’s a difference. ❞ ❝ i guess...i’m afraid. ❞ ❝ oh, i didn’t know i was talking to a lady. ❞ ❝ i don’t feel too good. ❞ ❝ you have finally lost your mind. ❞

#sentence starters #roleplay meme #roleplay starters #rp meme #long post for ts /#im gonna add more to this one later on ! & update it now & again #there's a LOT of stuff in r/dr

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makeste · 4 years

Text

BnHA Chapter 280: I Am Red Riot

Previously on BnHA: The pro heroes over at Gunga Mountain struggled against Gigantomachia and the League until finally Midnight was all, “fuck it, let’s just put the kids in charge.” Momo immediately got to work organizing a sophisticated counteroffensive involving an exploding swamp, a bunch of sedative cans, and a massive coordinated team attack. I gotta tell you guys, it’s really something to watch a large-scale group attack in which all of the team members are actually competent. I don’t know what Japan put in the water when all these sixteen-year-olds were growing up, but that shit has paid off big time, and basically the only reason Machia hasn’t gone down yet is because he cheated and was all “sneeze” and the kids all got blown away because they are little and because he is really, really big. Anyway so then Dabi set the forest on fire because he loves doing that, and the chapter ended with Mina using her Acid Man attack to make herself FUCKIN’ FIREPROOF so she could charge through the woods ready to save the day and stuff!

Today on BnHA: Mina launches herself straight at Machia like the beautiful corrosive wild child she is, but then everything goes to shit when she recognizes him from that one time she almost got murdered while giving a strange man directions. Just when it’s looking like she might get killed for real this time, KIRISHIMA SHOWS UP TO SAVE THE DAY AND SHOVES HER TO SAFETY AND IS ALL “BOTTOMS UP” AND HEAVES A LITERAL CAN OF WHOOPASS RIGHT IN MACHIA’S MOUTH. At this point the grown-ups are all “oh wow look at that, time for us to take over for you kids now, don’t worry we’ve got it all under control” because Oh Those Wacky Pros and all that, but at least Majestic finally deigns to show his face so that’s a plus! The chapter ends with us cutting back to the Jakku battle, where Tomura is curled up in a little ball all “curse you heroes, how dare you [checks notes] save people all the time”, which is a real take and a half. Anyway so things are looking up, which can only mean everyone is about to die. That’s how it works, right. Shit.

HOLY SHIT LOL

THIS IS MINA. SHE’S REALLY COOL AND SHE CAN MELT PEOPLE. um, the hell kind of tagline is that?? holy fucking shit?? “melt and succumb”?? IS THE SUCCUMB PART REALLY NECESSARY. IS THAT NOT ALREADY IMPLIED. it’s like saying “die and then perish”, which actually sounds really badass and I’m about to make it my new go-to threat actually so you know what never mind. where the fuck were we anyway

“IS EVERYONE SAFE” some absurdly bad-at-gauging-situations kid from class B is yelling while the forest is on fire and all the kids are recovering from having been catapulted fifty miles by King Dodongo’s windy yeet breath. of course they are safe, sweet child. of course everyone is absolutely fine, why the fuck would they possibly not be safe after something like that

KAMINARI NOOO MY POOR SWEET BABY

AT LEAST HE’S STILL CONSCIOUS ENOUGH TO MAKE STUPID JOKES. holy shit this baby got concussed to hell and back and then Machia turned him and the others into precipitation and he wasn’t in any kind of state to even try to land safely, I hope to god someone caught him

Sero is all “is there anyone still in range!” and damn, I like that he’s taking charge and trying to regain their momentum. he is so criminally underrated. I feel like he’s in the top six or seven of class 1-A kids who I would most trust to take charge. which is very high praise because that class has a lot of charge-taking kids

SPEAKING OF

it “probably” can’t get through her acid, she says. my god. sometimes the spirit of Plus Ultra just takes ahold of these kids and it’s like, I want to ruffle their hair proudly and then grab them by the shoulders and shake them vigorously because WHERE EVEN IS YOUR SELF-PRESERVATION WHY DO NONE OF YOU HAVE IT GODDAMMIT AIZAWA REALLY SHOULD HAVE EXPELLED YOU GUYS AFTER ALL

man. and yet I really do love this “be the one who can do it” stuff. what a heroic fucking attitude dfjfklks. I’ll just go put on my humongous sandwich board that reads GIANT FUCKING HYPOCRITE and go stand in the corner

damn it this week’s scan is annoyingly dark, it’s really hard to tell what’s going on but it looks like the pros are attacking Machia and the League at long last. way to go guys it only took you seven years but you finally hopped to it

MINA WHY IS THE ACID COMING OFF OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD. PUT IT BACK!!!

I KNOW SHE’S NOT GONNA DIE DAMMIT BUT AHHHHH AHHHHHH AHHHHHHHH

okay what the hell is up with these weird zen proverbs though

“your fear stricken heart”, “the shortest path”, what the fuck even is this. whose thoughts are these. normally these translations are honestly decent enough but I gotta say this time around I’m totally being thrown for a loop lmao

(ETA: FYI I’m only just now realizing that he was saying the shortest path to Master, as in Tomura, not “master” as in to master something fjkldjskf lol some delayed reading comprehension there. so basically he’s just bitching about how annoying these little “flies” are proving to be.)

JESUS CHRIST

okay is it just me, or is Gigantomachia suddenly showing intelligence in his eyes instead of mindless animal instinct the single most pants-shitting thing you’ve ever seen?!! holy shit. the way he just LOOKS at her out of nowhere all of a sudden?? holy fucking shit DO NOT HURT MT. LADY OH MY GOD I’M FREAKING THE FUCK OUT. AND DON’T YOU DARE HURT MINA EITHER!! JUST FUCKING DIE AND PERISH

but also though, is that recognition in Mina’s eyes?? because even though this dude is 80 feet tall now, her encounter with him a couple years back had to have been one of the more memorable experiences of her young life. damn I was wondering when this would finally come into play

OKAY YES THE NEXT PAGE IS A FLASHBACK OH SHIT

this has nothing to do with anything but Mina just has the prettiest hair, btw, and this “just woke up covered in acid” look is a particularly good one on her. it looks so soft and fluffy, like damn. this is like Shouto-hair-billowing-in-the-wind levels of pretty here

NOOOOO

oh my god holy shit?! putting her back in the school uniform to show the slip in her mentality is a PUNK MOVE, HORIKOSHI, and I respect the shit out of you for it you manipulative bastard. goddammit. bracing myself for the incoming wave of Mina feels... here they come... they’re a lot... let’s see if I can latch on to anything I can actually figure out how to describe in words

okay well here’s one, my respect for Mina’s bravery just went up like a thousand percent in this instant, because now we know this was actually such a traumatizing event for her that hearing Machia’s voice again years later immediately sent her into a full-blown flashback. she was that scared and yet she still stood up to him and didn’t hesitate. and now I’m remembering how her knees just buckled right afterwards, and just...

and this visual, though!! what a brutally effective way to show that in her mind she went right back to being that scared middle schooler again for a moment. god fucking damn. holy shit you guys is Kirishima fireproof because if he comes waltzing out of the woods next I don’t even know what I’m gonna do. lolo kids getting traumatized left and right this arc is fucking merciless

um eXCUSE ME!?!?!

YOU MOTHERFUCKING PIECE OF SHIT LET GO OF HER RIGHT NOW OR I AM GONNA LOSE IT!!

THAT’S NOT WHAT I MEANT!!

holy shit he could have fucking snapped her neck like that??! I don’t like this at ALL WHAT THE FUCK

OKAY SERIOUSLY

I’M GONNA NEED ANOTHER KID TO STEP IN HERE WITH A LAST MINUTE SAVE LIKE RIGHT THE FUCK NOW, OR I AM GOING TO THROW MY COMPUTER OFF A FUCKING CLIFF AND MOVE TO THE DESERT AND BECOME A HERMIT AND NEVER READ MANGA ON THE INTERNET AGAIN

OH THANK GOD

TODAY WE SPELL “REDEMPTION” K-I-R-I... ETC. THERE’S A LOT OF LETTERS BUT YOU GET THE DRIFT!!!

holy fucking shit y’all. I mean, it’s not like it came out of nowhere, like the setup could not have been more obvious, but let me assure you that none of the predictability lessened the actual impact of this moment in the SLIGHTEST. Horikoshi really wrote a flashback scene one hundred and thirty five chapters ago and planted it, watered it once a day, and patiently waited for THREE LONG YEARS until he could finally harvest the badass fruits of his labor in the midst of his most epic arc to date. I’m so fucking hyped I’ll even forgive him for sacrificing Mina’s big moment and having her get rescued, because it’s such a good reversal. he didn’t freeze up this time. he promised himself he’d never freeze again and he didn’t and he saved her and god fucking damn. anyways so now Machia is going to treat him like a fucking action figure though but he’s a solid little dude he can take it hopefully

NO WHAT IS THIS!!! STOP KILLING MY MOOD!!!

she better not be dead!! SHE BETTER NOT FUCKING BE DEAD I WILL RUN MY PC THROUGH A PAPER SHREDDER AND GO AND LIVE ALONE WITH MY FEELS ON A MOUNTAIN IN TIBET

CHINTETSU!!

well we know he’s fireproof. another callback at the least expected of times lmao

so Tetsu’s all “yeah Kirishima’s not really all that fireproof but he totally ran over here anyway to save you. oh wait that probably wasn’t very comforting of me to say.” maybe that’s why it seems like he might not have actually said it out loud, now that I’m reading this over again. good call Tetsu

ARE YOU STANDING UP AND CASUALLY STRETCHING OUT YOUR BACK

I CAN’T EVEN BELIEVE HOW MUCH I HATE THIS GUY RIGHT NOW. WE’RE REACHING LEVELS OF HATRED RESERVED FOR NAZIS AND PEOPLE WHO WALK TOO SLOWLY IN FRONT OF ME IN A GROUP SHOULDER TO SHOULDER INSTEAD OF SINGLE FILE SO I CAN PASS IN FRONT OF THEM. YOU’RE A FUCKING TOURIST IN NYC YOU PIECE OF SHIT

lmao he’s just dropping this random hero person and letting him fall to his doom wheeeeee

remind me to leave all of the League of Villains’ texts on read for the foreseeable future. goddamn. I still love you guys but also, fuck you so damn hard

OHO A LIL RED SCALY BOI ISN’T DONE YET!!

real talk, just between you and me, I’ll lower my voice so that Kirishima can’t hear. so uh. we all agree that even if Kiri is fireproof and squishproof, that little can of tranquilizer juice technically shouldn’t have been, right? but we’re all going to hush and pretend like it was anyway for the sake of not spoiling his big moment. even though I am crossing my arms and tapping my chin with my finger while doubtfully glancing to the side

anyway here he goes!

YEAH KIRI GO GETTIM [stage whisper] there it is, in his pocket. should’ve burned. we won’t discuss it

OH FOR FUCK’S

TOGA YOU LITTLE WIENER BUT WHAT’S THIS ABOUT “MY HALF” NOW????

DID HE GRAB MINA’S MID-AIR?? IS HE REALLY REACHING INTO HIS BACK POCKET AND FUCKING UNZIPPING IT RIGHT NOW WHILE HOLDING ON TO NOTHING AND PRESUMABLY FALLING THROUGH THE AIR. DID A LITTLE BIT OF OCHAKO’S QUIRK RUB OFF ON YOU OR WHAT

OH SNAP SON HE REALLY DID THE THING HOLY SHIT???

AND TOKAGE FLEW OVER AND SAVED HIM AND NOW TANKS ARE SHOOTING AT MACHIA, LMAO WHAT IS THIS. MOMO HOW MANY GUNS DID YOU MAKE

Shouji standing there trying to be useful any way he can. are eyeballs really that much more effective if you make them the size of tennis balls and hold them up above your head. legit question, I don’t really know how eyes work

okay after 45 seconds of googling this my impression is that no, they are not. well good on you for giving it the old college try anyway though Shouji

oH MY GODLKDLK?!?!

DID SHE SAY WHAT I THOUGHT SHE SAID, DID SHE SAY MAJESTIC, ARE WE GONNA SEE MASJKESLTKCI DSFLKJL

oh my god he really is the Magic Man dude??? TIME TO DUST OFF MY INVENTORY OF ADVENTURE TIME QUOTES

(ETA: AHH FATGUM AND GANG ORCA ARE THERE TOO YESSSS!)

“that’s enough depending on some interns” oh, okay. now that they’ve done all your work for you. I see, I see

so now Gigantomachia is LITERALLY UNHINGING HIS JAW I can’t fucking believe this dude you guys. everything he does is just like, ARE YOU SERIOUS

please go to sleep already. thanks to you I have my keyboard set to capslock as the default for the duration of this chapter

ARE YOU SERIOUS YOU FUCKING WAITED UNTIL MAGIC FUCKING MAN SHOWED UP TO TEACH US MAGICAL LIFE LESSONS AND NOW YOU’RE CUTTING BACK TO THE TOMURA FIGHT?? WHY DO WE KEEP LETTING THIS MAN GET AWAY WITH THIS

oh my god you guys they really fucking did it

I guess that Howitzer slash fire punch combo really was that potent huh

anyway so now Endeavor is standing there making a big speech instead of reaching into Tomura’s pocket and taking the bullets that he doesn’t know about and shooting him with one asap. dammit Endeavor

aaaaand Tomura is firing back with the wisdom of Shimura Fucking Kotaro of all people

well you sure convinced me. damn I don’t know what I was thinking. heroes suck you guys. how dare they help other people all the time

so now he’s all “PERIOD, EXCLAMATION POINT!!”

take that Endeavor. you heard the man. it’s not destruction without conviction, as god as his witness he will have you know it is destruction WITH conviction. something something the great sage Shimura “I hurt my family for absolutely no reason at all, fuck this ‘helping others’ bullshit” Kotaro. I hope you packed your textbooks because you just got SCHOOLED. I hope the person who ordered you signed up for delivery notifications because you just got SENT. I HOPE YOU LIKE CAPITALISM BECAUSE YOU JUST GOT OWNED. I HOPE YOU CHOSE PAPER AND NOT SCISSORS BECAUSE YOU JUST GOT ROCKED

what an absolutely, unreservedly bizarre place to end the chapter lol. we’re really just done with this week, just like that. Majestic showed up and Gigantomachia opened his chin like a garage door and Tomura is all “you may have won the battle but you suck” while he buys time for Aizawa to suddenly sneeze or something so he can make his terrible comeback and continue Horikoshi’s Traumatize Every Kid in Class 1-A 2020 campaign. what an arc this is my friends. what an arc

#bnha 280 #ashido mina #kirishima eijirou #gigantomachia #shigaraki tomura #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha #I didn't even notice the extra page on readheroaca until I was getting ready to click 'post' lol #something about ochako mistaking a real orca for their friendly teacher #resulting in a hilarious case of mistaken identity #I have no idea what this page is about or what it is doing there #but at this point 'because 2020' seems like a reasonable explanation for just about anything tbh

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bffsoobin · 3 years

Text

yeonjun x reader

requested by: @yeonjuncore (made this hurt extra special for you 😌)

tw//this is angsty!! cheating, swearing, mentions of sexual acts (no actual smut), etc!

⇒ twelve: “Don’t touch me. Your skin is poison.”

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:••:•.•

A nearby car rumbled down the street, severing the delicate silence you had cultivated within your apartment. As it revved up the hill, you glanced out the window lethargically, not bothering to remove yourself from the sunken comfort of your sofa. The muted television flashed in its variance of bold colors but offered no relief from the barrage going on inside your own mind.

You really should have known better. Should have seen the fallout coming a mile away, should have stopped fooling around with Yeonjun the first night you’d drunkenly made out in the dimly lit corner of a college bar, but you didn’t. Maybe you should have stopped it the first time he pushed his hand into your underwear while your roommate slept, or the first time you’d gone to return a set of movies he’d given you and ended up falling asleep in his bed. Instead, you’d let yourself become intoxicated by him and shatter the only friendship you’d ever cherished. It’d now been a week since your best friend and roommate had officially moved out, but the confrontation still bounced around your conscience like an annoyingly catchy pop song.

“I can’t fucking believe you!” She had seethed, storming through the apartment with fervor. “All this time, you’ve been fucking around with Yeonjun behind my back? I love him!” Tears had tracked down your face, unable to come up with any other response. You’d already tried apologizing even though you knew it was a lost cause. Helplessly, you watched her gather up as many of her belongings as she could find in one swoop. Her footsteps rattled the photos on the wall and side tables, shaking your bones in sync.

“Why did you do this to me?” The question hung above you like an interrogation light, burning into your eyes as she finally looked at you for the first time in days.

“I...I don’t know,” you had muttered, offering the shaky words with a tearful glance. Your best friend’s face, normally soft and round and full of love, stood stoic and sharp- completely unforgiving. You couldn’t blame her.

“Please,” she breathed, looking down at the ground as if to contain herself. You could see her lips shaking with the force of keeping in her sobs. “N-never speak to me again. And if that fucker comes here, tell him to lose my number. I trust you’ll get him the message once you’re done having his dick down your throat.” She shoved past you, rolling a suitcase she’d used on many joint vacations behind her on the wooden floors. Every thump of the wheel over a panel made you flinch. Once she had reached the door, she glanced at the table where you’d set down your keys every day after work. Upon the table was a simple photo of the two of you, cozied up at your high school graduation. She grasped the simple wooden frame between her fingers staring down at the photo with a wry smile on her lips. For a moment, you thought she would take the picture with her. The thought made you dizzy, a naïve part of your heart hoping that she would take it as a token of possible redemption for the years-long bond.

“Hey, Y/N?” Her voice was nasally from the crying, but still so familiar that despite the situation, you looked up at her earnestly. “Fuck you.” The photo dropped the the floor, bouncing off the floor with a harsh thud you were sure the neighbors downstairs heard loud and clear. You both stared at it, the plain backing facing the ceiling. In a millisecond, she slammed the heel of her sneaker into the back of the photo, shattering the delicate glass covering underneath the force. She had disappeared out the door not a second later.

The picture still laid in its exact same spot, face down next to the door that hadn’t been opened since she walked out. A few shards of glass had scattered dangerously into the living room, but you knew how to step over them all by now. In fact, nothing had really been touched since she left. The drawers in the kitchen and living room were still hanging wide open, gaping with the evidence of all the things she had taken away with her. You were living off of lukewarm hot pockets and bottled water, supplemented with the swigs of red wine you’d been saving for a party that will never happen. Sleeping in your room was no longer in the cards, as you would have to pass by the painfully empty room that she used to inhabit in neutral tones with splashes of color in the decor- a dichotomy that you never hesitated to tease her for. Your phone laid out of reach, cold and dead and nothing but a weight in your hand when you did pick it up.

Everything was half-full, missing a piece that you hadn’t lived without for years.

A loud succession of knocks threw you out of your stupor, bringing your thoughts to a halting stop they hadn’t in days. You had no idea who was bothering you, as the sweet older neighbor who was collecting your mail knew to simply leave it outside for you to grab at the wee hours of the night.

‘Who is it?” Foolishly, your heart raced with the hope that she had come back to allow you to patch things up.

“Jesus,” a familiar voice scoffed. “It’s me, Y/N.” Yeonjun. You imagined him posted on the other side of the door, one arm leaning him against the sturdy frame while the other knocked at the door. Glossy black hair falling into his eyes as he tried to catch a glimpse of you through the peephole. Slowly, you shuffled over to the door, skillfully avoiding a stray piece of glass, and unlocked the deadbolt. Yeonjun sighed in relief and mumbled something under his breath that you didn’t quite catch. The door was only open about a foot before he was pushing himself inside, wrapping both muscular arms around your shoulders. He buried his pointed nose into your neck, and the usually affectionate gesture made your stomach twist.

“God, don’t you ever answer your phone? I’ve been trying to reach you for days.” He held you at an arm’s length, frowning at your obviously unwashed hair and stained clothing.

“It’s off.”

“It’s off? Why the hell is it off? Someone might need you- shit, is that glass?” Yeonjun’s eyes widened at the shards you’d come to coexist with, dropping his hands from your arms to squat and examine the pieces further. Exhausted already, you plopped back into your couch indent with a sigh.

“Why are you here?”

“Because I was worried about you,” his eyes softened as he set down the few pieces of glass he’d recovered. His warm hands cradled your knees, the touch burning through the fabric of your sweats. “Because I knew that once she left, you’d be a mess. Because I know you aren’t taking care of yourself. Because-” he plopped himself down on the couch next to you, leaving no room between the two of you. A careful hand lifted, pushing strands of your greasy hair behind your ear with a delicacy you craved. “Because I love you.”

Your stomach lurched. Yeonjun loves you. Part of you knew that. You love him too. Or maybe you used to. Now the thought of him caused a tsunami of emotion, mixing the best moments of your life with the single worst. You loved each other, but what had it cost you?

“Yeonjun, I- I don’t,” your voice shattered, pricking even your own eardrums as your chest heaved with a cry you’d repressed for a while. For as long as you’d been grieving the loss of your best friend, you’d never cried over the Yeonjun of it all. Deep down, you knew you’d always had real feelings for him.

The first time your best friend introduced you to him, you felt the kind of magic that you thought only existed in movies. As the good best friend you once were, you tried to keep your distance and let your feelings simmer down. And then the night your friend fell sick even though the three of you had plans came around, and at her insistence, you and Yeonjun went together. In the dark, pulsing club you were hypnotized by how well he moved his hips and made an off-brand joke about wanting to feel them against yours. By the end of the night you were littered with hickeys and walking with a limp you had to play off for two days.

And for a while, you thought that was really all you’d be- drunk fumbles and hookups shrouded in mystery and shame- and then he’d taken you on a full fledged date. Pizza, beer, a slightly tipsy visit to an arcade; the whole nine yards of charming, and with no sex attached. That’s when you knew you craved more than just the feeling of his skin against yours. You had come to crave the experience of Yeonjun, the way he spoke and laughed and checked up on you after your hardest days at work.

Now, he cooed, cradling you to his broad chest with a reassuring hand on the back of your neck. The feeling of his skin made you repulsed, accumulating all of the times he’d laid a hand on you to work against your friend. All the times you’d let him touch you, knowing the likely consequences. You shrunk away from him, putting as much distance between the two of you as the couch would allow.

“Please don’t touch me,” you pleaded, hands shaking. He scrunched his aggravatingly perfect brows as you crossed your arms over yourself.

“Y/N, what do you mean? Are you hurt, is there something I can-”

“Stop, please,” you sigh, eyes wandering to the worn fluffy socks adorning your feet. There was an annoying thread that had been rubbing between your toes all day, and you could see it peeking out just enough now that you could try to pull it and maybe you would feel a little bit less uncomfortable in your own skin-

“Y/N?” Yeonjun ventured, trying to wade through whatever emotion you were presenting to him at the moment.

“Just please don’t touch me, Yeonjun. Your skin is poison. It’s poison and I got a taste of it and it fucked up the single best friendship I’d ever had. Your stupid fucking touch,” you hissed, watching him physically recoil. “It’s everything I have ever wanted, and I crave it all the fucking time. And you got me so addicted with all of our little secret touches that I didn’t realize the havoc they would bring into the world where you weren’t touching me because, fuck, I don’t know. I helped you cheat on my best friend? And for a while I didn’t feel bad about it, I was just too god damn busy thinking about your hands, and your mouth, and all of the touches. So please stop touching me.”

Stunned, Yeonjun sat the stillest you’d ever seen him on your couch. You were broken, and he had done the damage. While part of him wanted to blame it all on you, he knew that he’d ultimately been the one to stick his hands in your normal life and, well, poision it.

“I’m sorry.” His hand hovered awkwardly just inches away from you, longing to console you.

“‘Sokay. Just...leave? I’ll shoot you a text when I’m back up and running.”

With great hesitation, Yeonjun slid off the couch. His hands were stuffed in his pockets as he hovered, waiting to see if you had anything else in you. If you had been able to muster the courage, you would have seen the tears rolling down his full cheeks.

With one hand on the door, Yeonjun finally spotted the photo from which the glass shards had come, and he picked it up warily. The last of the pieces scattered on the flooring, and he resisted the urge to clean them up. He knew that you’d get to it eventually. He steadied the frame back on the table and cleared his throat in lieu of a painful goodbye. The knob twisted noisily under his hand as he tried not to look back on your beat-down form.

“Yeonjun,” your voice waivered but kept him silent enough to hear a pin drop. “In case you were wondering- I love you too.”

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bookworm-blogs · 3 years

Note

Surprise Ask!: Some Kayama and Shirakumo headcannons?

I’M SORRY FOR NOT RESPONDING SOONER I’VE BEEN BUSY W/ WORK N SHIT FHFHFHH

But omg yes! HELL yess I do!!

Since you didn't specify whether their relationship would be platonic or romantic, I'll just do both because BY GOD THEIR FRIENDSHIP ITSELF IS HEAVILY OVERLOOKED. (I'm still salty about Kayama's lack of presence in the main magna regarding the Kurogiri reveal. She's just as much a friend to Shirakumo as Aizawa and Yamada, damn it! Then again Horikoshi could be holding off on us for a reason idk we'll just have to wait and see...)

Anyways! Platonic (ft. Rooftop Gang) headcannons!

1. Kayama and Shirakumo have a similar taste in music. I know our world and the BNHA world are different (apparently they haven't reached the moon yet in BNHA?? And Aizawa had a touch screen phone in Vigilantes so I'm assuming their generation and our millennials grew up a tad bit differently), but I can't help but think they would be complete nerds of 80's rock. Smashing Pumpkins, Fleetwood Mac, Red Hot Chili Peppers... These two would always contact each other on when the next album hits and be each other's first choice to concerts and would always blow all their money on band merch. Their all-time favorite song would probably be "Go Your Own Way" by Fleetwood Mac, or "September” by Earth, Wind, and Fire. They always argue about which is better.

2. These two are the BIGGEST video game nerds. Every now and then, when they aren’t busy with school or work studies, Kayama would come over to Shirakumo’s house to play games with him. Aizawa isn’t too fond of video games, and Yamada prefers to listen to different types of podcasts, so that leaves Kayama to be Shirakumo’s gamer buddy, which isn’t bad at all since this girl loves all types of games. From Animal Crossing to the Halo franchise, Kayama has a surprisingly broad range, with her favorite genre of video games being horror shooter games like Resident Evil. Shirakumo isn’t a big fan of horror and is more a fan of free world games like Red Dead Redemption or The Last of Us, though he does make an exception for point and click horror games.

3. Kayama occasionally pops in on the boys’ study sessions. Usually, Yamada would be at the helm tutoring Shirakumo and Aizawa, though Kayama would pop in from time to time to help him with harder subjects like history since she’s smart. She used to host their sessions at her house, though that quickly stopped since she always dressed up as a sexy teacher and got a little too close to the boys while showing them how to solve equations.

4. They would regularly barge in each others’ homes. Shirakumo was especially guilty of this, as he would use his clouds to fly over to his friends’ room windows and sneak in through through them. It became such a common occurrence that Aizawa, Yamada, and Kayama all decided to just keep their windows open for the cloud boy to come in whenever. Usually Aizawa would be Shirakumo’s favorite victim (he loved watching Aizawa leap out of his skin every time he knocked on the window), though Yamada and Kayama were just as entertaining (Shirakumo once knocked on Yamada’s window and nearly went deaf after the blond screamed with his quirk on. Kayama was a bit more risky for obvious reasons). Kayama was the first one to return the favor, however, and when Shirakumo saw her sitting on his bed in the dark while petting Sushi like an evil mastermind, he let out a high pitched scream that Kayama still holds over his head to this day.

5. Kayama and Shirakumo "flirt" with each other all the time. You know Ayame and Shigure from Fruits Baskets? How they would say something incredibly corny to each other before suddenly being like, "haha cheers mate." That's these two. Since they hang out on a regular basis, people always make fun of them by calling them boyfriend/girlfriend. One day, they got so fed up with having to explain themselves that they decided, "fuck it, if they want a show we'll give them a show." When they made their first target pass out from a furious blush and a bloody nose, Shirakumo and Kayama made this their "how to keep hoes at bay" strategy. Yamada finds their antics hilarious, while Aizawa always thought it was weird. Every time they "flirt," Shirakumo and Kayama always make sure to say "no hetero" as soon as the other person is gone.

Now for the romantic headcannons!

1. Everything is the same, except Shirakumo forgot to say "no hetero." This made Shirakumo have an existential crisis for about a month. He would always ask himself, "Why didn't I say it that time? Was I being stupid? Or did I actually mean it? What if this changes our friendship forever? Oh God, what if she hates me?" Aizawa would always be the first person Shirakumo goes to to vent his woes, sometimes even coming to his room in the middle of the night. While Shirakumo would ramble about how bad it is to catch feelings for his gal pal, Aizawa would always listen until he's done before telling him to just confess. Shirakumo doesn't, and this routine lasts an entire month.

2. Kayama realizes Shirakumo's growing crush but doesn't say anything bc she wants to hear it from him. This man tries acting like nothing's bothering him, but he was as obvious as Dipper from Gravity Falls (muttering under his breath and hopping at the first opportunity to hang out with her). At first Kayama didn't think much of it, but when she caught him glaring at a couple gawking boys in the hallway, she realized what was also going on.

3. After 3 months of awkwardness, Kayama finally dragged him off on a date. Shirakumo was terrified the entire time, waiting for Kayama to tell him he's not her type, but was shocked when she bluntly told him, "we should start dating" after watching a movie. Everything fell into place afterwards.

4. These two became the hottest couple at UA. Up until the Tasomiya Incident, Shirakumo and Kayama acted a lot like how they did before, except they now had dinner dates, movie nights, and all the fun couple stuff like making out behind the school and genuinely flirting (much to their friends' disgust. Seriously, do these two have no shame?). Kayama loved going shopping, and Shirakumo was more than happy to carry around her stuff on his clouds. Once, they got caught sneaking out to the pier at night and made a brave escape on Shirakumo's clouds. As soon as they got back to his house, they were on the floor, laughing.

5. After Shirakumo's death, Kayama hadn't dated since. Sometimes she would go out whenever her friends would set her up, but Shirakumo was the last time she ever has a serious relationship. She protects Sushi with her life, even as he grows older. Sushi was the last living remnant of Shirakumo, and she wants to keep him for as long as possible.

Little does she know he may not be as dead as she thinks... (Dun, dun dun)

Anyways yeah, I’m a slut for this rarepair and it breaks my heart that there isn’t more content on it. Fear not, my fellow CloudNight stans, for I am making a fanfic on Ao3 rn and am also gonna make a one-shot in a few days! Thank you, Nightowl, for giving me the chance to scream for a bit! ;’)

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onecanonlife · 3 years

Text

careful son (you got dreamer's plans)

Wilbur gasps back to life with mud between his fingers and rain in his eyes.

Wilbur was dead. Now, he is not. He can't say that he's particularly happy about it.

Unfortunately, the server is still as tumultuous as ever, even with Dream locked away, so it seems that his involvement in things isn't a matter of if, but when.

(Alternatively: the prodigal son returns, and a broken family finally begins to heal. If, that is, the egg doesn't get them all killed first.)

Chapter Word Count: 6,567

Chapter Warnings: swearing, minor violence, manipulation/mind control, blood, vomiting, and explicit s.uicidal thoughts

Chapter Summary: Wilbur meets the Egg. It doesn’t go well. At all.

(masterlist w/ ao3 links)

(first chapter) (previous chapter) (next chapter)

Chapter Seven: feet in the fire

A new day dawns, as per usual.

Tommy and Tubbo are waiting for him when he steps outside, shielding his eyes against the sun. They’ve got their heads tilted together, discussing something in hushed tones, Tommy gesticulating wildly, and he takes a moment to stop and smile at them. It’s just like when they were kids, the both of them getting into one mischief or another. Tommy was always the one to be blamed for it, but Wilbur knows better than to think that Tubbo doesn’t instigate his own fair share of chaos. It’s hidden better, but they’re two peas in a pod, in the end.

“Should I be concerned?” he asks, the words coming easily. Today is a good day, he thinks. He feels good, better than he has since his return. The darkness has receded, and his heart almost feels light. He can almost forget about the scar that runs across it.

They both jump, heads swiveling toward him.

“Wilbur!” Tommy says, at the exact same time as Tubbo says, “Good morning!” He glances between the two of them, and feels his lips curl upward into a smile once again. It feels easy, to be smiling with them.

“As long as I’m not the victim,” he says, and Tubbo shakes his head.

“No, no,” he says, “see, we were thinking about the Egg, right? And how it’s just, like, an egg. And we assume that it’s red, because of all of the vines, but we’ve never seen it, so we don’t actually know how big it is. I think that it’s a great big egg, because all these vines are big and thick.”

“And I think,” Tommy interjects, “that there’s no way that these vines are coming from the actual Egg itself, because vines don’t hatch out of eggs. So I think that it’s a regular-sized egg, and they’ve got it on a pedestal or something like that, or a, an egg throne. But it’s gonna look so fucking stupid, because it’s literally just a little egg, and we should smash it with something and see what they do about it.”

He hesitates. “I’ve got to go with Tubbo on this one,” he says. “I don’t think it’s going to be a regular egg.”

“Psh, you don’t know,” Tommy says. “You’re dumb. Oh!” His face brightens. “I forgot, Tubbo brought you some things.”

He lifts an eyebrow and takes a few steps forward, and something in his chest warms at the way Tubbo doesn’t tense up like he did the first day, doesn’t flinch back. There is still wariness in his eyes, but he doesn’t think he’s mistaking the way that it’s lessened.

He hardly deserves it. But today is a good day, and he’ll take it for the moment.

“Yeah,” Tubbo says. “Tommy’s still dirt poor, so he asked me to do it, but here’s some gear. We thought you should have something.”

Tommy is sputtering at the description, but Tubbo ignores him. He opens up his inventory, and then takes out—gear. A couple of swords, shimmering with enchantments, a bow, an axe, a pickaxe. Wilbur feels something in him loosen just looking at them; he hadn’t realized how vulnerable he’d felt, being weaponless, and that’s probably a bit fucked up, actually. He didn’t always feel the need to keep a weapon on him at all times.

(you led child soldiers to battle when you were little more than a child yourself and can you really feel surprised, at the way the metal hums in your hand, now, the way your fingers are more secure wrapped around the hilt of a sword than the neck of your guitar?)

(you learned to play such different songs, the blood bright and accented in your eyes, every scream a crescendo)

He glances up, checking to be sure that Tubbo really does intend these for him. Tubbo nods, so he crouches down to inspect the weapons, now all laying on the grass.

“I’ve got armor too,” Tubbo says, “but I wasn’t sure that you’d want it.”

And doesn’t that carry a wealth of connotations, of memories? There is a sharpness to the words along with the question, and Wilbur

(my L’Manberg, my L’Manberg, a promise of safety you never could keep)

turns it over in his mind, poking at it.

“No armor, thank you,” he says. “I never did like it all that much. I’ll let you know if that changes. Thank you for these, though.” He gathers up the weapons, choosing a sword to wear at his waist and sliding the rest of them one by one into his inventory, and then glances up again to catalog their reactions. Tubbo seems to have expected the answer, but Tommy is frowning at him, and he has to wonder if he’s remembering something else, remembering

(the last time he refused armor, he was intending to die, had written himself off as lost, lost along with his symphony, the only possible redemption in the press of a button, the lighting of a match, and Tommy didn’t know it then but hindsight is twenty-twenty and Tommy has always been too smart for his own good)

the wars and what followed.

Tommy sees him looking, and his expression smooths over.

“Alright boys,” he crows, as if nothing at all had happened. “Egg time!”

Tubbo snorts. “Egg time,” he agrees, and Wilbur stands.

“Egg time,” he says, and then they’re off.

The day really is pleasant, a cool breeze blowing and not a cloud in the sky. Tommy and Tubbo fill the air with aimless chatter and bickering, and he chimes in sometimes and doesn’t even feel strange about doing so. This feels natural, feels right, and if he can have more days like this, days that put a spring in his step and a gentle tune in his ears, he thinks that being alive won’t be such a chore after all. Perhaps he can even learn to be thankful for it, well and truly.

He thinks that would be nice. To love life again. It’s a distant, glimmering possibility, but today it seems a bit nearer.

“It’s under Bad’s mansion, I think,” Tubbo is saying. “But they made another entrance, I’m pretty sure. Should be somewhere around—”

“Hey, Tubbo!” a voice calls. “Hey, Tommy!”

And it is a new voice. Not Tommy or Tubbo. Not Sam. A new voice, and that means a new person, and Wilbur can’t prevent the way all his muscles go taut, can’t prevent himself from fingering the hilt of his gifted sword. It’s partially a leftover instinct from the war and partially his own fear, his own aversion to being seen by anyone, to being forced into a confrontation.

He wasn’t always like this. He used to delight in speaking to people, or in a good debate, twisting his opponent’s words all around into Gordian knots until he has his victory. He’s not sure that that part of him will ever return, will ever fully recover from

(the world is against you and you are alone and you can trust no one for they will shake your hand with a smile in their eyes and stab you in the back as soon as you forget yourself and turn)

those dark days, the days that took his charisma and twisted it into spite and paranoia and manipulation. Words that once were sweet drip down bitter-sharp, or shrivel on his tongue before they can breathe at all.

“Huh—oh!” Tubbo says. “It’s just Ranboo, Wilbur, don’t worry. Ranboo!”

Tubbo can see his stress, then, and that’s bad enough. He doesn’t need anyone else bearing witness to it. But Tubbo is already calling out and waving, and there is someone approaching them from off to the side of the path, someone very, very tall, half their skin pitch black and the other half stark white, a small golden crown perched in their hair. And Wilbur thinks, I have no fucking clue who this is, and a split second later, he thinks, Oh, it’s Ranboo, and the cognitive dissonance threatens to overwhelm him before he figures out its source.

He has never met this guy in his life. But Ghostbur did. Ghostbur—liked him? He’s fairly certain. Ghostbur liked everyone, of course, but they bonded, he’s pretty sure. Over memory problems? Ranboo has memory problems? That seems right?

What a mess.

“Hi,” Ranboo says. “Feels like it’s been a while. Oh, hey Gho—ostbur?” His voice trails off on the last word, going up about an octave and a half, suddenly very uncertain.

What does he remember about Ranboo? Soft-spoken, he thinks. Kind. Generally pretty nervous. A sardonic sense of humor, if you can get to it, one that made Ghostbur laugh. That’s all he can come up with. He was with Tubbo’s L’Manberg, but he doesn’t know what happened to him after—well. After.

He steps forward, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. “Not really,” he says. “Alivebur is more accurate.” He pauses. “Please just call me Wilbur, though. It’s nice to meet you. In the flesh, that is.”

Ranboo’s eyes widen. He’s not making eye contact, fixing his gaze just to Wilbur’s left instead, and—ah. That’s right. Enderman.

“Wow,” Ranboo says. “Uh, yeah! Nice to meet you too, I guess? Um, has this been a thing, or…?”

“Recent development,” Tubbo says. “We’re taking it slow.”

He feels like he should object to that phrasing. It makes him sound a bit like he’s… in their care or something like that, though he supposes that’s not entirely inaccurate. He’s hardly made strides to go and do anything by himself.

“Oh,” Ranboo says. He pauses. “Well, that’s cool. Do you know how?” He seems to regret the question immediately, holding his hands up in front of him, placating. “Not that you have to tell me or anything! But it’s just, I was there when Phil tried to resurrect you that one time, I don’t know if you remember. And it didn’t really seem to work?”

“You’re fine,” he says. “We don’t really know. We’re rolling with it.”

“That’s fair,” Ranboo says, and there is a moment of awkward silence. Wilbur can tell that he wants to ask something else, but he refrains, shifting nervously from foot to foot. “Um, so I was just at the spider spawner. Needed to fix some armor. What are you guys up to?”

“We want to see the Egg,” Tommy says. “Have you seen the Egg, Ranboo?”

“The Egg?” Ranboo repeats. “You mean the one with the, uh—” He gestures around them, presumably at the vines that sprawl across the ground nearby. “No, I haven’t seen it. I don’t really want to, if I’m entirely honest. Kind of creepy, how people are fawning over it. I mean, it’s just an egg. Presumably. So I’m not really interested in getting involved.”

“We’re going to draw stuff all over it if it’s small,” Tommy says. “I’ve decided that just now.”

“Oh?” Ranboo says, and then doesn’t seem to know where to go with it.

“You could come with us if you wanted,” Tubbo says, but Ranboo shakes his head.

“Nah, I should be getting home. I have to feed Enderchest,” he says. “It was nice seeing you guys, though. And you, Wilbur. Um, welcome back to life, I guess?” He hesitates. “I gotta ask, does Phil know? Because we’re neighbors, and I was wondering if I should say anything about it or not.”

“You’re neighbors?” Wilbur asks, and looks at Ranboo in a new light. Young, anxious, in need of a secure place to stay once L’Manberg was destroyed—huh. That fits the bill. That fits the bill exactly. This is the type of kid that he can see Phil getting attached to.

(his heart’s always been too big for his own good, too soft despite all the years he’s lived, though he has to wonder why Ranboo is allowed a place and not Tommy, not the child he took in as his own years and years ago)

(it’s a matter of betrayal, perhaps, perceived on both sides, and which is right, he doesn’t know)

(he’s not going to tell Tommy that he’s not angry about L’Manberg’s destruction, because that might be a betrayal in and of itself)

“Huh,” he says, instead of voicing any of his thoughts aloud. “No, Phil knows, I’ve seen him. Him and Techno both.”

“Okay, good to know,” Ranboo says, and he really does look relieved. “Good luck with the Egg.”

“See you around, Ranboo,” Tubbo says. “You should stop by Snowchester sometime.”

“I’ll make sure to do that,” Ranboo says, and then with a slight wave and a bit of a smile, he’s walking off along the path. Wilbur stares after him for a moment, which is why he sees how he stops and pulls out a book after he’s gone a few dozen meters and begins rapidly scribbling in it.

His memory book. He remembers that.

“See, that wasn’t so bad,” Tubbo says. They start walking again, and then they leave the path and start crossing the grass. The vines become thicker, more frequent. Something about them fills him with a sense of unease. Probably their color; outside of the nether, nothing is quite that shade of red, a dark crimson that reminds him of nothing so much as blood. Not dried blood, not the color it gets when it’s caked on like rust,

(coating his sleeves and he didn’t clean them so the blood is still there and he can smell it and the sword is in his hand and the stains are never going to come out)

but rather, it’s as if it’s frozen in time, still glistening, ready to flow again when the force holding it back gives way.

“I remember Ranboo,” he says absently. “Sort of. Ghostbur liked him. Though I guess that’s not really an accomplishment.”

And then, they’re at a short structure built into the earth, a ladder leading down. He peers over the edge, and can just barely make out a pool of water at the bottom, intended to break a fall.

“The spawner’s down there,” Tubbo says. “But I’m pretty sure there’s a tunnel that connects it to underneath Bad’s mansion, and that’s where the Egg is. Are we ready?”

“Of course we’re ready,” Tommy scoffs. He’s grinning, bright and wild. It’s the promise of adventure, Wilbur supposes, excitement without too much danger. Something new to discover, perhaps a new prank to play. His enthusiasm is infectious, but somehow, he can’t bring himself to join in fully. The sun is still shining, but something heavy weighs on him now, something that he can’t place. It’s the vines, he thinks, their unsettling nature, and he can’t bring himself to be sure that this will be without risk.

But Tommy’s on the ladder. Tubbo’s got one leg over the side, preparing to follow. There’s nowhere to go but down.

They make it without incident, and the sound of at least a hundred spiders hits his ears as soon as his feet touch the ground. He winces, trying to ignore the skittering and shrieking, but it’s impossible to do so entirely. But Tubbo is right—there are several tunnels leading out of this room, and there is a fuzzy red glow emanating from one of them. He exchanges glances with Tommy, who is still grinning, and with Tubbo, who has a smile on his face. Neither of them think this could go wrong, then. He should probably trust to that. He’s been alive again for all of five days. They know the server better than he does, at the moment.

They descend. He keeps his hand near the hilt of his sword.

He wishes Schlatt were here, just a little bit. His presence would be irritating, but reassuring. Reassuring to have another adult here, little help though he would be. Reassuring to have someone who could make fun of the situation, distract him from his mounting sense of dread. But he hasn’t seen Schlatt since yesterday, since he vanished from the prison, and he

(isn’t worried, not one bit)

can’t help but wonder where he is, what he’s doing. It’s not like anyone else can see him, not like he can touch anything. So how is he occupying his time?

It’s warm down here.

The heat is stifling, humid, like a swamp, almost, but worse, because there are fumes as well, and that acrid scent that comes hand in hand with lava. As they enter the main chamber, it is easy enough to see why: there are patches of lava and molten rock all across the floor, and vines hang down from the ceiling and cover nearly every square inch of space. The floor itself is obsidian, he notices. And there, in the corner—

It can only be the egg. He can’t tell how tall it is, can barely see it though the clusters of vines dangling in front of him. But it is very large, and very red, and beside him, Tommy mutters a curse. Too big to vandalize quickly and hightail it out, but frankly, Wilbur feels as though that’s the least of their problems.

“That is a big egg,” Tubbo says. He sounds impressed.

“I’ve seen bigger,” Tommy grumbles, stepping further into the room. He almost trips over one of the vines, and he shoots a scowl at his feet.

“No you have not,” Tubbo says. “Where have you seen a bigger egg?”

“I—” Tommy stops. “C’mon, let’s go look at it.”

“No, no, I want to know where you’ve seen a bigger egg,” Tubbo presses, even as they walk forward, picking their way through the room carefully. “Wilbur, back me up, where has Tommy seen a bigger egg?”

“Maybe he laid one,” he replies, and that response makes no sense at all, but he can’t be bothered to put in the effort. The closer they get, the more his mind is screaming at him

(get out get out get out)

that something isn’t right about this, that they’ve made a mistake in coming down here, and there is a corner of his brain that is filling with static, buzzing and distracting and uncomfortable. And then they’re standing right in front of it, and that feeling multiplies tenfold.

The Egg is several times his height and even wider across, and it is a shade of red that is unparalleled even by its vines. It is a shade of red that seems to move, that seems to scream, that seems to drip and ooze into the air. It almost looks as though it is made of blood itself, as if he could put out a hand and stick it right though, and he almost tries it before he balks at the idea, every instinct he has rejecting the urge.

No. This Egg is not for touching.

“I’m not sure I like this,” Tubbo murmurs after a moment. His ears lie flat against his head.

“It’s just an egg,” Tommy says. “Don’t be a pussy. Wil, what do you think?”

Wilbur opens his mouth and finds that he cannot reply.

“Do you think I could break a piece off?” Tommy asks. “Like a souvenir?”

“You shouldn’t do that,” someone says, and Wilbur jerks violently, his sword half unsheathed before he’s given himself permission for the action.

BadBoyHalo. It’s BadBoyHalo, only not, not Bad as Wilbur remembers him, because his face has taken on an ashen grey pallor, and his capillaries spread out like a web across his face, and they are the same white as his eyes. The same stark white, but somehow sickly, and blood shouldn’t be that color, blood should not be white, and Bad’s face itself looks gaunt and shadowed, half-starved, and his smile, once so kind and genial, is something predatory, something threatening. Bad is a demon, but he has never been a monster, and now Wilbur isn’t so sure that there isn’t a terrible thing peering at him out of those white, blank eyes, a terrible thing that isn’t Bad at all.

Antfrost stands beside him, and Antfrost’s eyes are red instead of blue.

“Hi Tommy, Tubbo,” Bad says. His voice is chipper, pleasant, and yet— “Hi, Wilbur! I didn’t realize that you were back! Have you come to see the Egg?”

Should Bad be this blasé about his appearance? He doesn’t think so. They were never friends.

(and even his friends were not his friends, by the end)

“Yeah, we wanted to check it out,” Tubbo says.

“That’s great,” Bad says. “Visitors are always welcome. It’s a fantastic egg, isn’t it?”

The question is searching, probing. He’s looking for a specific answer. Wilbur thinks that it would be a bad idea to give him the wrong one.

“I mean, it’s very big,” Tommy says.

“It is, it is,” Bad agrees, nodding amiably. “Are you liking it so far? I mean, are you having fun?”

Wilbur opens his mouth, intending to say yes, intending to say it’s the best egg in all the world, intending to say anything and everything that Bad so clearly wants to hear if only it will get them out of here sooner. But his mind is filled with static and he is too slow to the mark, so it is Tommy that answers.

“It’s fine, I guess,” he says. “Your decorations are shit, though. It’s too crowded down here. If I were a decorating expert, which I am, I’d say that you might try to clear some of this out, you know?”

“That’s—an interesting suggestion, Tommy,” Bad says, and his smile is much more strained. He doesn’t bother to hide it. It’s like a thin gash in his face. “I’ll bear that in mind.” He tilts his head. “I like it like this, though. I think it really gives life to the room. And we wouldn’t want to do anything to hurt it.”

“Hurt it?” Tommy repeats, and Wilbur’s heart is suddenly in his throat, with no reason as to why. “It’s a fucking egg.”

Bad goes very still. Very still, and very quiet. Antfrost’s eyes gleam, and his ears twitch.

“It’s a very good Egg,” Bad says. “Maybe you should listen to what it has to say. I bet it has something to offer you.”

That doesn’t—that doesn’t make any sense. Bad isn’t making any sense, and it’s a kind of nonsense that is unnerving, made worse by his apparent sincerity. Wilbur tries to reach out, tries to get Tommy’s attention, tries to get him close, but his arms won’t move. All of his limbs feel thick, heavy, and his head is spinning, airy and light and disconnected, and Bad and Ant are intimidating figures, suddenly, figures that stand between them and the exit. Wilbur thinks that perhaps, he should draw his sword. He doesn’t like the way that Bad is talking, doesn’t like the way that Ant is staring.

Instead, he turns his head to look at the Egg.

Tommy barks a laugh, loud and incredulous, and it’s like someone has driven a pickaxe through Wilbur’s skull. He moans faintly, but no one seems to notice. The room is swimming.

“Have you gone nutters?” Tommy asks. “It’s a fucking Egg. I don’t see a mouth on it anywhere. In fact, if it has a mouth, I don’t want to know about it, because that is fucking disgusting—”

“Actually,” Tubbo says quietly, “I think I can hear it.”

Tommy stops.

“You what?”

“You do?” Bad asks. He takes a step forward. Wilbur wants to take a step back. He doesn’t move. He’s looking at the Egg, and he can’t tear his gaze away, despite what’s happening in the corner of his eye, because there’s something just on the edge of his perception that he can’t—

“What is it saying to you?” Bad continues.

“It’s saying—” Tubbo’s face scrunches up. “Actually, I really don’t think I like this. I think we should go. What I can make out isn’t very polite.” His voice wavers, wobbles, like a spinning top running out of momentum.

“Really,” Bad says. His voice has gone flat. “I think you should stay and listen some more. It might grow on you.”

“Um, no,” Tommy says, “no, I think that’s a bad idea, actually. I don’t want to—is this some kind of cult? Are you a cult, BadBoyHalo? Is this Egg your cult leader? I think we should not listen to the Egg cult. This is weird. This is fucking weird. Tubbo, do you want to go? Let’s go.”

Tommy makes a motion. Wilbur can’t tell what. He’s looking at the Egg, and his vision is blurry. But he can see the way that Bad steps forward again, the way that Ant steps to the other side. Their netherite armor gleams. The message is clear: if they want to leave, they go through them, and Wilbur can barely think past the way his head is pounding, but this was a bad idea. This was so clearly a bad idea.

Was this Dream’s plan all along? Get them down here, get them into—whatever situation this is?

“Hold on just a minute,” Bad says. “I don’t think you’ve given the Egg a fair chance. The Egg wants what’s best for everyone, and that means you guys, too. How about you, Wilbur, do you like the Egg?”

He opens his mouth. No sound comes out. The room is swaying. The Egg is right there. He could touch it.

(static static static and beneath it there is)

Tommy is at his elbow, gripping his sleeve. “C’mon, big man, you feeling alright? You’re looking awfully pale.” A moment, and then, “Wilbur? Wilbur? Tubbo, something’s wrong with him. Come on, Wilbur, let’s go.”

“Do you hear the Egg, Wilbur?” Bad asks, soft and steady, and his voice slices through the fog.

Because he—

He—

(glowing and red and creeping and comforting and sickly and familiar)

He hears it.

A whisper, trailing just on the borderline of audibility. A whisper, rasping and knife-edged, and it feels like a hand, like a hand is reaching into his brain, touching his mind, dragging its fingertips on his thoughts, and he is shaking, and he can’t stop. It is a whisper, and he doesn’t understand the words, but their meaning filters through to him all the same.

It whispers to him of fire. He can hear it crackling. He can hear it burning. He can feel it on his flesh, eating him, eating up his skin and his sinews and his bones until he is ash, ash mingling with the ash of his city. He is on fire and the fire hurts and it is a beautiful pain, a pain to revel in, a pain that he has chosen, a pain that has him grinning even as his lips burn away and bare his teeth, bare his skull, a permanent smile, a smile that means he’s won. His fingers are clenched around the match, his fingers are caressing the button, his fingers are grasping the hilt of the sword as he forces Phil’s arm to drive it forward. But it doesn’t matter, because he is the fire and he is the ash, and he is eaten away and he eats everything else, a serpent consuming his own tail and screaming and laughing and choking all the while.

It whispers to him of fire. You could burn the world, it says, and dance in the ruins, dance on the flickering spark-soaked wind, and it will be of you, their destruction, because if you cannot have it then no one deserves it so why not grant them the wreckage their betrayals have wrought?

His blood sings with it, with the thrill of it, with the desperate, ugly longing for it, the beast that lives under his skin rising to the surface, and unlike the kraken it breathes and it lives and it howls.

“Wilbur?”

He comes back to himself, a bit, and finds that he is smiling in truth, his lips pulled back, his teeth on display.

“Wilbur?” Tommy says again. “Wilbur, we need to go.”

Tommy doesn’t understand. Tommy doesn’t hear it. Doesn’t hear the voice, doesn’t hear its promises, its wonderful, wonderful promises. But that’s alright. He will, in time, and until then, Wilbur can understand for the both of them.

“Everything’s going to be alright,” he tells him. “You’ll see. Can’t you hear it, Tommy? The world is on fire!”

He laughs, giddy. The room is spinning, and he with it, and his head throbs in time with his heart.

It whispers to him of a song.

A song, rife with drumbeats, thudding like the steps of a hundred armies, a million soldiers fighting and dying on the field. He was one of them, once, was Ares and led them all to blood. Blood, red and flowing, and what a lovely color it is. The blood is in the song, too, a plink plink plink of high staccato notes, a thrumming bass line that goes down in steps, a celebration

(no no no it’s a ground bass it’s a lament it’s a lament)

for the life spilling on the ground, for the life that is sacrificed, for the life that is fed to the cause, to the symphony, to the symphony! It understands his symphony, can sing in harmony with it! He’s gone so very long playing by himself, and yet here is something that knows the tune.

“No,” Tommy says, his voice shaking like a leaf on the breeze, “no, no, Wilbur, Wilbur, you’ve got to stop it, you’re scaring me, Wilbur, please—”

“There’s nothing to be afraid of,” he replies, because he must make it clear, must make Tommy understand. “The symphony’s still there, Tommy, can’t you hear it? It’s kept on without me, but I’m here now. I can continue it how I want.” He widens his smile. “I can leave it how I want. I can leave it unfinished again. I can make sure that no one finishes it.”

Tubbo makes a noise, like a small scream. Tommy is silent.

“The Egg can do it, Tommy,” he says. “The Egg can do it. All you have to do is listen. Please, Tommy, for me, can’t you hear it?”

Finally, finally, he wrenches his gaze away from the Egg. Bad and Ant have moved closer, Tommy and Tubbo farther away. Tommy’s eyes are wide, and blue, and terrified.

(blue)

“No,” Tommy answers. “No, Wilbur, I can’t hear it. I don’t want to hear it.”

“We can fix that,” Bad offers, and Wilbur turns his smile on him. “All you have to do is stay down here for a little while. How does that sound?”

“It sounds bad! It sounds very, very bad!” Tommy erupts. “We’re not fucking staying down here, not when you’ve made Wilbur go all—” He gestures, and Wilbur doesn’t understand what he’s trying to say. He feels fine, feels real, feels exultant, and he’d thought such emotions lost to him, so shouldn’t Tommy be happy for him? “We’re leaving, and if you try to stop us, then I’ll—fuck, I’ll stab the fucking thing and crack it open, and you can be all weird and cultish over the yolk.” As he says it, he pulls out a sword of his own, netherite and shining with enchantments, waving it wildly in the Egg’s direction.

“I’m sorry you feel that way, Tommy,” Bad says, and then looks to Ant. “We’ll remove the obstacle. Tubbo and Wilbur can stay here.”

That sounds like a good idea. He’ll stay here, and the Egg will give him everything it promised in exchange for his devotion. And Tubbo will learn, in time, to love it. It is unfortunate, about Tommy, but those who threaten the Egg must either be brought around or they must be disposed of,

(wait)

and Tommy is never inclined to listen after he’s gotten an idea in his head. He’s terribly stubborn like that. So if he’s decided to oppose the Egg, there’s only one thing left to do.

Wilbur draws his sword, and in unison with Bad and Ant, steps toward Tommy. Tubbo shouts a denial, fumbling for his own weapon, but Tommy just stands there, staring at him, a look on his face that

(is horror and betrayal and you promised to protect him promised you wouldn’t hurt him anymore so what are you doing)

does something strange to his stomach, and—

The Egg is calling for his death, calling for his blood. But this—

This is Tommy. His little brother. He’s striding toward his little brother with his sword in his hand, and this isn’t—

The Egg whispers. Wilbur hears it. And it

(is going to hurt Tommy)

is going to hurt Tommy. He sees it in his mind: Tommy’s limbs sprawled on the ground, Tommy’s eyes gazing up sightlessly, Tommy’s shirt wet with blood, Tommy dead and Tommy gone, and a wave of revulsion washes over him. Tubbo is moving forward, is moving to protect, but Ant engages him, and Bad is too close to Tommy, and Bad’s sword is raised, is poised to strike, and Tommy reacts too late and he’s not going to get his own sword up in time and the Egg is so loud and demanding and Wilbur can hear it but he doesn’t want—

He catches Bad’s blade on his own. Interposes himself between Bad and Tommy.

“Get the fuck away from him,” he growls.

Bad’s eyes widen.

“Don’t you want to protect the Egg?” he asks, and Wilbur reels, because a large part of him wants to say yes, wants to say that he will give the Egg anything and everything it wants. But the problem is that there is another part of him, now, a part that puts Tommy’s safety above all else, and that part of him is trembling and shaking and terrified, and the Egg doesn’t feel like a soothing whisper but instead like a snarl, and there are still fingers in his brain but he can recognize them for what they are, for what they’re doing, can recognize that they’re fucking with his thoughts, yanking them around like a marionette on a string, and—

“Get out of my head,” he cries out, and goes on the offensive, and Bad must be surprised, because he allows himself to be driven back. The Egg screams, and he screams, too, because it’s loud and his head hurts so bad and part of him wants desperately to follow its commands and he feels as though he’s being ripped in half.

(it’s in his head it’s in his head it’s a violation it’s scraping off his skin hollowing him out and putting itself inside and he doesn’t want it doesn’t want it he wants it out wants it out out out)

There is a clang, a clatter of armor, and Wilbur chances a glance back to see that Tubbo’s gotten one up on Ant, somehow, and he’s grabbed Tommy’s hand and then Tommy’s grabbing his, and they’re all running. And Bad lets them go, sprints over to Ant instead, and they’re going to get out, they’re going to get out—

The Egg whispers to him of rest.

(it’s in his head and it won’t leave and it’s like worms writhing under his skin but)

He digs his heels into the floor and turns back. Tommy is shouting something and Tubbo is shouting something and they’re both pulling on his hands, but he won’t let himself budge.

The Egg whispers to him of rest, tells him, If you will not take the fire, then why not take the dark, they will be safe and unharmed without you there to burn them and you can find your peace again, that comforting nothingness that allowed you to drift, and

(yes)

yes, he wants that, wants that so badly, because he was dragged back to life, dragged back into the world that cut him down to the quick, that formed all his sharp edges, and for Tommy’s sake, he can pretend, but he doesn’t want to be here. And the red of the Egg is comforting again, its glow soothing and warm, and All you have to do is give in, it says to him, all you have to do is let go and the peace is yours and who could blame you for taking it back when it was wrongfully wrested away from you?

“Come on, Wilbur!” Tommy is shouting.

“It’s offering me rest, Tommy,” he says, and his voice is agonized. “It’s offering—I want to rest, Tommy.”

“Wha—no!” Tommy says, and from the shock in his voice, the horror, Wilbur knows that he understands exactly what he means. “No rest! You—you fucking promised, Wilbur, you told me that you were glad to be here!”

(it’s in his head and it’s using his mouth but it’s only saying what he’s been hiding, has brought these thoughts to the surface, to the light)

“I lied,” he says. “Tommy, I want to rest. Please, let me go.”

(his father stands in front of him, his sword in his hand, and his eyes are bewildered and hurt and confused and terrified, and he knows that with the way he is, it will only take a push for him to get what he wants, only a push to provoke his father into a reaction, and he is so very selfish but he is far past caring, because the symphony is unfinished and he is ready to go he is ready to go)

He looks at Tommy. Tommy is crying.

“Fuck you,” Tommy snarls. “Fuck you, we’re leaving, we’re leaving right fucking now, Tubbo, help me—”

And they are pulling him back, pulling him back and away, but he is struggling, fighting them, because

(please let me go please let me go)

the red is so warm and so soothing and as long as it’s not asking him to hurt Tommy, it’s alright, really, and he wants this, he does, and all of his earlier thoughts about fingers and puppets have dissipated and he wants this, he’s sure that he does, and Tommy and Tubbo aren’t letting him, they aren’t letting him go. And Ant is on his feet again, and he and Bad are advancing, and if he can just get to them, they will help him, they will understand—

And then everything gets very confusing. Because there is another voice, suddenly, one he doesn’t recognize. More sounds of fighting, and he doesn’t know who is fighting who, because the world is fading away around him, and his vision is just red. And then he’s being manhandled, and he wants to keep struggling, but his limbs aren’t responding, and someone is carrying him up a ladder, and then he’s being set on the grass, and the nausea hits him hard and quick, and he’s retching, bile coming up, and he’s choking on it and he can’t get any air—

And there are flashes. More nausea. His head pounding, like someone’s tried to make a jigsaw puzzle out of his skull. Water, cool and refreshing, and the red subsides, but he hurts, hurts so very much.

Tommy’s voice, yelling. A glimpse of Tommy’s face. And then, Wilbur is out.

#mcyt #dsmp #dream smp #dsmp fic #wilbur soot #tommyinnit #tubbo #ranboo #badboyhalo #alivebur #/rp #cat writes fic #long post

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takeabitetoremember · 3 years

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Stay With Me (Part 17)

From the balcony, Langdon could hear the excited chatter from those below talking about the Halloween Masquerade Party that evening. It was Coco, as usual, who was the first to notice that Emily and Timothy were gone. She looked over to her faithful sidekick Gallant loudly inquiring, “WHERE are Timothy and Emily!” Looking around with a curiously puzzled look on his face not seeing either of them replying, “That’s a good question. Where ARE they?”

The anxiety in the common room begins to rise as one by one the survivors realize that there are only two logical explanations: they were taken to the Sanctuary. Or. They’re dead. You can tell by the look on Dinah’s face she’s hoping they’re dead. Evie Gallant was the one who finally spoke up, “Darlings, we all know they went to the Sanctuary. They’re probably fucking like rabbits right about now.”

The loud banging of Venable’s cane brings everyone’s chatter to a silence. “Yes, Timothy and Emily have indeed gone to the Sanctuary per Mr. Langdon’s orders. They left before dawn this morning. I do not know who, if any others, have been chosen to go to the Sanctuary. We will find out in due time. In the meantime, I suggest you finish up any last-minute touches to your costumes for our soiree this evening.”

In Michael’s suite, Mallory was resting, but it wasn’t a peaceful slumber. Her body is frail and weak. She was correct, her pregnancy with Harper wasn’t anything like this one. When they were teens, neither of their powers were remotely close to as strong as they are currently. If either of them knew the story of Michael’s birth, they indeed would be terrified right now. Michael’s father is definitely NOT on their side, as Michael was instructed to kill all of the witches, not marry and have children with one. At best, Mallory was a few weeks pregnant, but due to both of their powers the baby is depleting all of Mallory’s energy developing at double the rate it should.

Even when she was pregnant with Harper and knowing nothing about pregnancy, she knew that her baby looked larger than it should’ve when she had the miscarriage. It probably won’t even occur to her until her body begins to change much faster than it should. Being so small, it’s not shocking to either Michael or her that she’ll begin to show sooner than most women.

Looking in on her, seeing for the time being she seems to be sleeping, Michael begins to put his evil plan into motion. Mrs. Mead is downstairs putting up the decorations and bringing out the tub of water the apples will be put in for the bobbing for apples game. In Coco’s suite, Gallant is busy doing a masterpiece updo for the upcoming party. Ms. Venable has a bad feeling she just can’t shake, despite the plan she and Mrs. Mead hatched to eliminate everyone for their shot at the Sanctuary.

As the afternoon turns to evening there’s an excitement that hasn’t been in the Outpost since Langdon’s arrival. There’s music playing, everyone dressed up in their best costumes, dancing and having fun. It’s when Mrs. Mead comes out with the pristine red apples that everyone’s mouth begins to water. They’re all starving and the apples look so tempting. It’s not until everyone has an apple that Ms. Venable gives the instructions that they are all to enjoy the apples together, holding hers up, and then with a sinister smile on her face, takes the first bite, along with everyone else.

One by one, coughing and gagging, gasping for air as the foaming at the mouth and vomiting begins. Coco and Gallant, being the most greedy were the first to take a bite fall quickly. From there, it was a domino effect. One by one the bodies began to hit the floor, lifeless. Thinking she’s won, Venable smiles, until she feels the wave of nausea that hit everyone else. Looking to Mrs. Mead with panic, “Something… something’s wrong.”

Looking at Venable, her hands crossed in front of her with a wide grin on her face, “No Ms. Venable, there’s nothing wrong. Everything is going according to plan.”

“How…. How could you?” coughing, gasping for air as Venable begins to throw up violently, fighting for her life.

“Oh, Ms. Venable, this was always part of the plan. You simply didn’t know. It’s for the best, really”, watching as her cane drops, and Venable falls to the ground, mouth foaming, lifeless. Taking one last look about the room, making sure there are no survivors, the older woman climbs the stairs, pleased with her work, ready for her son to clean up the mess, so to speak.

“Michael”, knocking softly on his door. Pushing back from his desk, walking to the door and slipping out as quietly as possible. “I take it our plan went off without any complications?”

“Yes, my beloved son. They’re all dead, just like we planned. Do you want to simply burn them all so Mallory doesn’t see them, or are you going to keep her in a slumber until the carriage arrives?”

Before Michael has the chance to reply, he senses a presence in the main hall. “They aren’t all dead, mother.”

“Michael, that’s impossible, I just saw them. Not a single soul survived.”

Hearing the voices he could only imagine in his head from years past, for the first time he thinks he’s hallucinating. “It can’t be. It simply can’t be”, hurriedly walking to the grand staircase with Mrs. Mead right behind him. For the first time in what feels like a lifetime he’s face to face with the women who took his precious Mallory away from him. Crossing his arms in front of his body, tilting his head slowly, calculating as he looks over Cordelia and Myrtle. Slowly walking to the edge of the staircase, looking down upon the witches he resists the urge to begin to torture them immediately. He wants them to suffer in every way possible.

Before he can even speak, Cordelia opens her mouth in somewhat of a panic after seeing the bodies strewn across the floor. “Michael! Where’s Mallory!”

Angered at the thoughts that SHE could even IMPLY that he would harm Mallory was insulting. He knew the next words to come out of his mouth would cut both Cordelia and Myrtle like a knife.

“Oh Cordelia, how nice of you to feign concern for Mallory. Ironic, isn’t it? The woman, well, women who took Mallory away from the one place she was truly happy, asking ME where she is. Oh, that is rich”, he replies laughing hysterically. “You want to know where Mallory is”, becoming deadly serious again, “my beloved wife is resting in OUR bed. Morning sickness is very hard on her during the early stages of pregnancy.”

“Michael, please. There’s something you have to know-“

“I know I need rid of the two of you, and that whore witch you brought with you”, looking over to Madison with disdain cutting Cordelia off. “Michael, I know you hate us, and you have every right to”, Myrtle replies, looking to Michael, then Cordelia. “I promise you, Michael if you give us the chance, we’ll explain, but right now, you need to listen to us, Mallory’s life depends upon it.”

Hearing that Mallory’s life depends upon what they have to say, he pauses for a moment. Unable to sense a lie, but the skeptical part of him thinking this may simply be a trick on their part to buy. In the event it’s not, he’s willing to hear them out. “Proceed.” “Michael, there’s something you don’t know, about your birth mother”, Cordelia begins taking a deep breath. “I know you never knew your birth mother, but before the world ended, Madison and Behold went to yours” swallowing hard, “and Mallory’s home. She went at my command looking for answers. What she returned with, wasn’t at all what I expected.” Taping his foot, Michael began to get impatient. The LAST thing he wanted to hear about was his birth mother, and how DARE she or any of those other women enter their home. That took a lot of fucking nerve. “Get on with it.” “Michael, your birth mother died giving birth to you.”

The tapping immediately stops. For the man who creates chaos, chaos was just brought into his world. Trying not to show any fear as his heart races at the thoughts of losing his Mallory again. “Michael, that’s why Mallory lost Harper when the two of you were younger. Her body was too small to carry a child to term. Now that she’s in her 20’s, she’s still in danger, Michael. She can’t carry a child to term. She’ll die” Cordelia says with tears in her eyes, knowing the deep pain of losing a child and longing so desperately for one. Those words were a knife in his heart. No. He wouldn’t lose Mallory. Never again. Listening to Cordelia, his mind was racing. He knew there had to be a way to keep Mallory safe, and allow her to deliver his child without death. There had to be a way. “Michael, we can save her. The baby has to be delivered early. I promise you, no harm will come to Mallory or your child. I know you have no reason to trust us, but we also know that without Mallory, there is no way we could ever defeat you. We know she won’t turn on you, that she is where she wants to be. Where she’s always wanted to be.”

“I swear, if you so much as harm a hair on her head, I will burn your souls. Do you understand?” looking down at the three women. “No, Michael we will never harm Mallory, your baby, or you”, feeling a deep sickness in the pit of her stomach having to assure Michael that she wouldn’t harm him. Knowing that she has no choice in the matter, Cordelia knows the only choice they all have is if Mallory is able to bring forth some sort of redemption within Michael. Reluctantly trusting the witches, but realizing what they’re saying at the very least holds some truth, as Mallory has been extremely weak. Much weaker than she was when she was pregnant with Harper. “Michael! You can’t possibly be buying this load of garbage! Remember your purpose my boy!” Mrs. Mead exclaims, angry Michael seems to be losing focus. “Mother, this is my WIFE and CHILD’S life we’re talking about. I will walk through Heaven and Hell BOTH to save them. I will NEVER lose them again. EVER. Do you understand me!” losing his semblance of control as he screams loudly. “Michael, we need to heal Mallory’s body, and all of us will have to give her some of our strength and energy. We cannot move her until she’s had the child. It’s too risky”, knowing that was part of Michael’s ultimate plan, but right now Cordelia’s only thoughts are on keeping Mallory alive and helping her to deliver a healthy baby. This threw the proverbial wrench into his master plan. The last thing Michael was prepared for was staying at Outpost 3 a day longer than necessary. Only now, it was necessary. He was angry because he knew the witches weren’t lying to him. He was angry, because he knew in his gut that his father had to have a hand in this. Never before had it occurred to him that his father could possibly be responsible for the death of his and Mallory’s first child. It’s hitting him like a ton of bricks right now. With no choice left but to trust the witches, he raises his arm, pointing towards their suite. “Come with me, but before we enter the bedroom, I will go in first, alone. I don’t want your presence causing her more distress. I believe the last thing we all want is for Mallory to become upset.”

Myrtle looks to Cordelia, nodding in agreement, as Madison looks around, rolling her eyes. She never did like Mallory, and if she and her kid die it’s certainly no skin off of her back. Instead of coming with Myrtle and Cordelia, Madison slips off on her own to investigate, looking down at the dead bodies grimacing in disgust as she tries to dodge them and the vomit. Closing his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath before opening the door to his chambers half expecting to see Mallory looking around frantically for him. When he opens the door, he’s surprised to see nothing has been disturbed. There’s part of him that hopes she’s finally truly resting, but another part of him that knows her body is extremely weak and that makes the all too human part of Michael afraid. “Wait here”, Michael instructs Cordelia, Myrtle, and Mrs. Mead, “I’m going to go check on her and see how she’s doing. I’ll be back in a moment.” Opening the door to their bedroom, he can see Mallory laying peacefully on their bed. Her petite hand is resting on the small bump in her belly, just like she always loved to do. Her cheeks are terribly sunken in, and there are deep blue rings under her eyes from lack of sleep. Reaching out, caressing her cheek so lovingly, then placing his hand atop hers, “Mallory, my love, how are you feeling?” So weak she’s unable to open her eyes, smiling so softly when she hears Michael’s voice. Her voice so soft as she replies, “Michael, tell Moria to bring me a 7-Up with a cup of ice. May…. Maybe a cracker or two, please.” Michael’s eyes close for a moment, not wanting the witches to see him vulnerable or weak as a piece of his heart breaks. “She doesn’t realize we aren’t at home”, thinking to himself. Rubbing her small hand lovingly, able to feel their baby’s heartbeat as he touches the small bump, fighting back tears as he replies, “My love, anything your heart desires, I’ll get you. Just rest for a few more moments”, leaning over to kiss her lips so softly as he gets up.

Trying to put his aloof exterior on as he exits the bedroom, walking back over to his mother and the two elder witches. Looking to Myrtle, then to Cordelia, absolutely HATING to admit this, “Ladies, you were correct. She is indeed weak. I believe she’s most likely dehydrated. She’s oblivious to where we are at the current time. She just asked me to have Moria bring her a 7-Up with a cup of ice and some crackers. I didn’t have the heart to tell her we aren’t in our home, and Moria isn’t here to bring her a 7-Up or crackers.” For the first time in a long time, Cordelia and Myrtle can sense the deep pain Michael is feeling. They never for a moment doubted his love for her. They knew he’d been searching for her for years. They knew in turn, how deeply Mallory loved him. The two women spent years wondering if they did the right thing. Was taking Mallory away from Michael the right thing? They didn’t just take her away, they completely erased him from her life. How much of this does she remember? Does she even know? Has Michael told her? Does she hate us? These were questions that whirled like a cyclone through the heads of the witches as they realize just how complicated and delicate this situation truly is. “Michael, I know this is a spell you probably thought you’d never perform, the transference of energy- Do you remember how to perform it?” finally breaking the silence as Myrtle speaks frankly. “Yes, I do. You’re right, I never thought it would be something I’d ever perform. If it weren’t for my wife or child, you’re correct, I never would perform it.” “She needs your energy right now and will be more receptive to it. There will come at time as she gets closer to giving birth that she will need all of our energy”, Cordelia adds. Nodding, looking to the women as he walks back into the bedroom. Sitting down on the bed, caressing Mallory’s hair, one hand moving down to hold hers, the other resting on their growing baby inside of her. Closing his eyes, feeling his energy moving into her body, strengthening her. He doesn’t realize just how much energy he’s given her until she gasps, “Michael! Your nose! Your nose is bleeding!” He can hear the fear in her voice as he moves one hand up to wipe his nose. Indeed, there is some blood. It’s been so many years since his nose bled. Smiling down to her reassuringly, “My beloved, it’s just a little blood, don’t worry. How do you feel?”

“Michael, I feel fine. I’m just worried about you. Why is your nose bleeding? Did you go outside? Please say you’re ok. I know we’re supposed to leave soon.”

She has so many questions, and once she realizes Cordelia, Myrtle, and that whore witch have returned, she’ll only have more questions. I don’t even know how to begin to explain that our baby is killing her. HOW do you tell the woman you love that the very thing she’s longed for, is the one thing that can take her life? He’s slowly beginning to regret his decision to end the world. Loathe for his father is growing by the minute. For the King of Chaos, chaos is reigning during the one time he should have everything under control. Looking down at Mallory, taking a cloth from his pocket, wiping his nose before leaning down and placing a soft kiss on her lips. “No, my love, I didn’t go outside. I’m fine, I promise. There is much to talk about, but for the time being all I want you to do is rest. You need to fully regain your strength. The days ahead may be a bit-“ looking away, “trying.”

#Millory #Michael and Mallory #AHS Apocalypse #Michael Langdon #American Horror Story Apocalypse #Stay With Me #StayWithMe #AHS #Apocalypse #Millory4Life

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