paulmescalsbootycheek

[itspileofgoodthings]

Well, I actually have the most mundane of questions, but it’s been so long since I’ve been in an English class that I feel like I’ve completely forgotten (and I’m curious how you do it): how do you go about reading a book as a class? Do you assign them the chapters to read at home and most of them actually do it? Or do you give them class time to read? Do you have the kids who try to spoil the rest of the book for the class? Basically, how does one teach a book in the year 2024?  😀

And do you have your students annotate inside their books? (I know the English teachers in my school require the students to do that, and I get why, but I inwardly shudder every time I see a student marking up a page.) 

Haha I love this question because I too am always asking myself how DOES one each a book in 2024?

It’s sort of a combination. I absolutely assign reading every night (almost) unless it’s Shakespeare or any play in which case we read it all in class. But for a novel there’s a couple chapters a night. I read aloud to them a lot too. Sometjmes I make them read aloud to the whole class, rotating kids who read. Sometimes I assign a chapter to be read in class silently with questions or quotes due at the end of the reading. Sometimes I put them in groups and make them read aloud to each other. There’s no one way that works for sure and of course ultimately I have no control over how much they read and I’m not naive enough to think that most of the reading assigned for homework doesn’t get skipped most of the time buuuuuut.

My bottom line is that I believe it’s my job to get excited about the actual text itself (easier for me in some cases than others but overall pretty easy because it does fill me with excitement) and then commit to taking them on the journey of the story with me. And my goal—that I’m sure I often don’t reach—is to make that experience so much more fun if you have actually read. And the way that I teach is pretty text heavy which is why I always make sure I’ve read the chapters for the day and am not just relying on my memory because the way I do it is just sort of absorbing it all up like a vacuum-cleaner, schwooooop, and then either pulling stuff out of the reading to look at directly or directing them to do the same thing. So the big thing that I have going for me, if any, is buy-in. Is getting kids excited about actually reading the actual text. I also speak often and passionately about the evils of sparknotes etc. not because they help kids get better grades or whatever but because they present you with the husk and shell of a story, stripped of all that makes it interesting, and that by reading that alone they’re reading something so dry and dull and are not achieving what I always want them to achieve —which is, have an Experience with the Literature.

Again, it never works perfectly by any stretch and there are so many ways I want to explore in my quest to get better at it but overall I think, at my very best, I can create this wave of energy and excitement in the story itself which is the most organic and ultimately most helpful way to get them to want to read.

Also no haha. I don’t let them annotate! Though occasionally kids DO of course. But sometimes they bring in their own copies in order to do that. The spoilers absolutely happen and are annoying but I sort of get by it by moving on very quickly and/or talking about how it’s often not the ending but how you get there that makes it interesting. Because that’s just true!

[maddenleftchat]

I am so sorry 👑 anon! I deleted the original request! So I'm gonna try my best to stay along the lines of the original request!

(a/n) this is going to be a little bit out of my normal set up, because I'm a dumb and messed up the request)

YANDERE GANG LEADER X GN!READER

Triggers: obsessive behavior, possessive behavior, stalking, unwanted attention, superiority complex (?), Extremely unhealthy obsession, unhealthy habits, mention of being kidnapped, mention of being followed, unhealthy relationships, toxic relationship, and heavy yandere like behaviors. Please be careful when reading.

Enjoy.

Yandere Gang Leader

~Desire~

(this is what he looks like btw)

Desire, a feeling that can suffocate one's lungs. It strings along their inside's, slowly corrupting the entire being. It's threads sews it into the thoughts, creating a patch work mural of the desire's end goal. Desire ties itself to the neck of one's neck, choking them with greed. Desire climbs into the heart, slowly infecting the innocents. Desire is a dangerous creature. One that no mortal weapon could ever kill. A creature that infests every breathing thing on the earth. Desire is a very dangerous thing.

~

Cars flew past with exhaust of their loud engines filling the once clean air. The clatter and chatter of the world around you was drowned out by the blasting music in your ears. You were stuck on another planet of your imagination with your dream life. Sure, your current life was not that bad, you had a nine-to-five, and an apartment in New York City. But things were boring, it felt as if your days had begun to blend together. Almost as if the days were just small pieces and strokes of profound colors only made to be blurred together to blend in with a brown background; with the dry brush dragging them on longer than needed.

But it had been a long day, the sun's setting beams stretched to your cheeks. It's warm, barely able to be felt, as it's graceful touch merely grazes your soft skin. But it's brightness was more than enough to greet your gaze. It's blinding gold light causing you to squint. With the loss of parts of your vision it was hard to see the incoming man towards you.

It seemed as soon as the impact took place, time slowed. Your wide eyed expression seemed to slowly appear on your face, as you collided with the taller man's chest. The impact could be the equivalent to a tsunami hitting a huge stone wall. The both of you and the man ended up on the ground. With the sun no longer invading your eyes, you could properly see the situation. The surrounding people's eyes stared at you and the man, their gaze felt like daggers piercing through you. You were quick to look down at the man laid under you, his weight suit scuffed with the wet dirt from that day's previous rain. He was wearing sunglasses, a smart idea, and they now sat on the side walk a few feet away from his face. The lenses had popped out, and they looked expensive. At this point, your heart pounded to the point it was almost like it was going to jump out of your chest. The feet that have carried all these miles then decided it was time to get away. So that's what they did, you quickly stood up. And right when you were going to make the grand escape, a large calloused hand grabbed your ankle.

And a deep voice spoke, "Aye, help me out here! It's fucking rude to not help, do you not have any manners left?!"

Turning your head to the voice, the man had sat up and rubbed the back of his head.

With your heart dropping even farther than you thought it could, it took you a moment to process his words. Hell, you were still processing the entire ordeal.

"Hello?!" He spoke once again, you were quick to answer this time.

"Oh-..y-yeah! Here!" You said quickly, the feeling of anxiety leaked into your tone.

With adrenaline still pulsing through you, you grabbed the man's hand, and pulled him to his feet. This was highly unexpected on his part, how the hell were you that strong?

You then scattered over to the expensive sunglasses. You ran to them like a chicken was looking for food. In the state of your anxious panic, you failed to notice his amused smirk.

His whole mood just went from irritated to amused. You were quite the interesting thing.

Once your hands finally got a hold on the glasses and their missing lense, you shamefully brought this over to the man. You were blushing from how embarrassed you were. People were still watching you, some even recording. You so badly wanted to rip those phones from their hands and destroy the devices.

The man then held out his large hand from the glasses, that smirk quickly disappeared into a scowl once more when the glasses were placed in his hands.

"You're kidding me right?" His voice was wrapped with anger.

"I-I'm so sorry sir! I'll buy you a new pair! I promise!" You said a bit too loudly.

The man straightened his suit and stared down at you, "Fine then. Do it, I'll show you which ones I want."

The man's immediate words in actions took you off guard. "Wait- what? Like right now right now?!" You were quick to follow the man, but he walked fast.

"Yes right now, right now." He said not even bothering to give you a second glance.

"Well can I at least get your name?" You sounded exhausted.

As you asked this question, you were currently standing behind him, and the question itself caused the man to slow down. Since you stood behind him, you couldn't see the smirk creep on his face again.

"Edmond. Edmond Carlo." He said picking up his speed again.

Though you kept up this time and smiled, "Oh, well, I'm (Name)."

"I didn't ask," Edmond spoke coldly.

You went quiet after that. Though this quiet gave you a moment to finally process the man in front of you. His entire vibe was pure intimidation. He was tall, muscular, with dark hair. His shoulders were broad. His facial expressions seemed to hold nothing, but a resting bitch face and irritation.

Edmond walked with long strides full of confidence, making the people in front of him move. It was a bit hard to keep up, but you managed. Edmond walked with his head held high, while you walked with your gaze down at your feet. And within the little amount of time you had spent around Edmond you just now realized how self conscious he made you feel when you were around him.

The man's entire vibe screamed nothing less of confidence, and power. He seemed so young, but had his entire life together. While you were over here in your late 20s/early 30s working a stupid 9-5.

After being lost in thought for so long, you didn't even notice when Edmond stopped in front of you until you bumped into him... again.

"Watch it, woman." He spoke in a warning tone.

Just as you were about to talk back, he glared back at you. It was quick to shut you up.

As your eyes dragged away from Edmund you looked in front of you, only the relies you stood at a store's entrance. Though it wasn't just any store. It was an expensive looking store, a place where you could only dream to shop…

"Let's just get this over with…" You mumble walking into the store, not hearing the amused chuckle from Edmund behind you.

As you walked into the store you were greeted with the smell of pure wealth. You looked around and it was surrounded with designer purses, expensive jewelry, designer clothing, and things of similar taste. Dreads spilled over you at this point, you were just now realizing the reality of your situation. You would likely walk out of this place spending hundreds of dollars on a pair of fucking sunglasses for this man you didn't even know. But it was better than being jumped by Edmund's possible goons. As you glanced back you were greeted with the sight of Edmund looking at you.

"Well what are you waiting for? Go pick out the pair you want." You mutter yet again.

Edmund scoffed and rolled his eyes, "Quit muttering and mumbling so much. It'll make you seem like an even bigger loser."

You so badly wanted to retort back with a clever and snide comment, about your logic over took you when you realize that would just be even a stupider of a decision. So you remain silent leaving your disagreeing thoughts to yourself. As you followed Edmund around the store you were constantly looking at your watch. You fiddled with your fingernails impatiently and made a habit of looking at your watch, looking at Edmund, and looking back down at your fingernails to fiddle with.

And you would soon find out that this greatly annoyed Edmund. As he quickly turned to you with a frown and spoke in a low whisper, as to not make a scene, "What the hell are you doing? You're gonna drive me insane… what is so important that you have to keep looking at the time?"

You jumped slightly at his sudden stern tone, and moved your gaze to his frowning expression, "I just have a cat that I need to get home to."

Your response to Edmund was only met with yet another scoff. But he did seem to quicken his pace slightly. Soon after he picked up a pair and placed them on his face.

"These. What do you think?" He asked, turning to you.

You studied his face for a moment gathering an opinion. "To be honest, I like the other pair of you." You said pointing to the pair he has previously tried on. They were a classic wire style with golden frames.

"Really?" He asked, grabbing the golden frames and examining them, "You don't think they look tacky?"

You shook your head before speaking, "No. They fit your eye shape nicely." You complement and notice the small nod he gave you.

He put down the pair he had previously on his face, and called over an employee. The employee took the golden framed glasses and walked over to the checkout desk, with you and Edmund following close behind. You sighed and grabbed your credit card already imagining the big dent this is going to put in your bank account. As the employee rang up the glasses the grand total ended up to be 212$ (USD). Reluctantly you handed your card to the cashier, and Edmund wore a victorious and amused smirk. Oh how badly you wanted to wipe it off his face…

After the transaction was complete the cashier bagged up the glasses after putting them in their casing and handed you the bag. You took the bag and handed it to Edmund. Then made a quick exit, with a tomato red face. Though you did have your "new friend" quickly follow you out.

You then turned to him and spoke once more, "Once again I'm really sorry for breaking your glasses, but I have to leave now." You said turning away and not giving Edmund a chance to respond, to his displeasure.

But, not to worry, you two would have plenty of time within the coming future.

That night you made it home just in time for your cat's feeding, but you were really too tired to do anything else. Least to say you collapsed in your bed that night and had a good night's sleep.

~

As months pass you slowly begin to forget about the situation. Your mind began to be occupied with other more important things. Such as friends, work, family, and of course your wonderful cat. You couldn't allow yourself for that little situation to take up your entire life. Though you could not be lying to yourself, That situation did take up a good portion of your paycheck. But nothing a little overtime couldn't fix.

Throughout the next month you felt you were busier than ever. Your boss made you work later nights, and your friends wanted to hang out with you more. But you couldn't really complain, it made you happy that your life was beginning to feel full again.

Though no matter how much you worked, or how much time you spent with your friends you couldn't shake this feeling. This feeling of constantly being looked at. The feeling of constantly being watched. The feeling of no privacy. The constant feeling of being uncomfortable, and sometimes even dreadful. But every time you feel like you were being watched, and every time you looked around, there was always nothing. Nobody was ever looking at you. Nothing was out of the ordinary, everything around you looked completely normal. Were you just going crazy after all this time? All this time spent in this big city with no silence? Maybe that was the case. Or at least that's what you chopped it up to. It's the only logical thing you wanted to think about especially after things started going missing. They weren't big or expensive by any means, as a matter of fact they were small things. Maybe like an old shirt you haven't worn in months and you just completely forgot about. And the only reason you noticed it went missing is because it was the only shirt that went with your outfit that day. Or that one pen you always use to write down quick notes because it's most convenient. Or maybe it was even a flower from the bouquet that you keep by your bed. The flowers usually help brighten up the room…

You were too scared to even think of the possibility that somebody might be doing this. You really tried your best to convince yourself that you were just doing all these yourself. Maybe you just got rid of the shirt because you thought you would never wear it again. Maybe you just lost the pen among the clutter. Maybe... You just threw the flower away because I was wilting? These were the only logical things that you could come to. It's not like you could go to the police... You didn't have any proper evidence. For all they could know you could just be drugged up and so high that you've been doing all this yourself and driving yourself to paranoia.

But a small part of you knew. A part of you knew that this wasn't your own doing…. But oh well, life goes on and you have to go with it. You didn't have time to think of these things.

Though while you had been focusing on other things in your life, he hadn't even moved on. After you left him without a response in front of that store he was locked in. His infatuation with you was confirmed. He didn't know what it was about you. Maybe it was your strong want to talk back to him, but you were too submissive to actually say anything. Or maybe it was your strong want to be held responsible for your actions. He always did appreciate people that took responsibility. Or maybe it was just your doe eyes, the way they sparkled with innocence. You didn't know any other way of living, other than the middle class 9-5. And he loved that about you. He loved how you were so unaware of the thousands of other ways to live, and he loved how you picked what you were comfortable with and stayed with it.

The moment after you left his site after that situation, he called one of his men to come and pick him up. But he didn't end that call before asking his men to dig up any and everything they could find on you. And trust me... They found a bunch of stuff. It Doesn't even matter if you use social media or if you are famous or not, anybody can find out anything on anybody if they have the right resources. And lucky for him he did. And so he watched you and watched you for the coming months. And prided himself with taking little souvenirs. Like an old shirt of yours. You wouldn't know what's gone. Or that one pen you always use when in a rush, maybe you'll notice that's gone and it'll make you a bit weirded out. And a flower from your room. He needs to know your preferences.

To be honest, he didn't know what sparked his obsession. Maybe it was the fact that you gave off such a motherly vibe, unlike the one thing his own mother could provide for him. Or maybe it was just because he was lonely being at the top, and he needed a little plaything to keep him entertained. Hell he may never even know what started this; But he does no one thing. He knows he needs you.

Edmond watched you through many ways. Whether it be ordering his own men to watch you, or watch from the camera's he has placed in your apartment. It didn't matter, as long as he got to see you, and see the little scared reactions from you. Edmund had the right to scare you all he wanted. You are his after all.

~

It had been about 6 months since the feeling of being watched started. No matter what you did you can seem to shake it off, but you didn't want to tell anybody about it either. They might think you're crazy... But you would soon learn that would be your biggest mistake.

~

It was a late night on a Thursday. It was about 11:00 at night, while the streets weren't empty they weren't exactly crowded either. You usually like to take the back roads so you can get home faster. And tonight was no different.

You walked at a fast pace with your bag on your side and your coat wrapped around your body. You were aware of all of your surroundings, and we're ready to defend yourself if anybody decided to mug you. You could never be too safe in this big city. Though it was when you began to let your guard down did they strike. You were just approaching your apartment building, when a black van pulled up to the side of the road by you. You didn't even have time to process it before you were being pulled into the van with a bag placed over your head. Then everything went black and you lost consciousness.

The humming of an old light bulb woke you up. Your eyes' lids refuse to open for a few moments. It felt like dumbbells were hanging from them, they were so heavy. A little groan escaped you, as you shifted around in your uncomfortable seat. It didn't take you long for you to register that your ankles and hands were tied. Your angles were tied to the legs of the chair and your hands were behind you. The rope was rough and itchy, it hurt to even move any of your limbs. Your head pounded it felt like a bunch of jackhammers were going off inside of it. Your head swayed lazily from side to side as you tried to gather your surroundings, it was unsuccessful.

"Ah, are you awake?" You heard a family familiar voice speak.

The voice was coming from in front of you, so you lazily swayed your head in that direction.

A slurred, "huh?" was all you could muster to get out at the time.

A chuckle came from the familiar voice, "Oh, maybe they used a little too much... Well, that doesn't matter. As long as you can hear me things will be fine. Can you hear me?" The voice asked.

The voice sounded like it was echoing in your head. The room began to spin and you felt like you were gonna throw up, but still you nodded.

A deep sigh left where the voice came from as a black gloves hand placed itself onto your cheek, to keep you from swaying your head.

A click of the tongue came before the words, "My poor baby. All drugged up and no idea what to do with themselves… That's alright. I'll take care of you from now on. As long as you promise to take care of me too."

That's when the source of the voice showed itself.

It was him, Edmund. Your drugged out eyes widened as much as they could.

Edmund simply let out a light chuckle, "Surprised? Well..I would be too.. I would love to explain myself, but I can't. It is not that I don't want to. But I can't, I do not know why I took you here. I do not know why I stole your belongings. And I do not know why I have such a...desire for you. But my heart aches for yours, my love. You fascinated me the day we met… You had such an innocent air about you, I could not watch the world crumble it." He stopped speaking for a moment. Within the moment he brought his face closer to your own. He's lips grazed yours, as his lidded eyes looked deeply into your distant gaze.

Yet another amused expression would paint his perfect features. "So I watched you. And watch you. So much to the point where I know all of your habits. Now...you might be asking, how? Well.. simple. I hired my men. You see my beloved, you can escape me now that you've gotten my attention so don't even try. I have connections everywhere, It's just part of being such a big mafia boss. Though I don't mean to brag…" He said, placing his lips onto your own. Though it ended about as quick as it started He continued once again, "Don't you see (Name)...I have fallen for you. I have a need for you. I have an unsatisfiable love for you. An ever growing desire…."

Word count: 3.6k

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Thanks for reading!

[ko-riacchi]

Live Stream

Pairing: Shigaraki x F!Reader Genre: Smut, Angst Length: 4,3k

WARNINGS: NONCON! 

Thank you to @cultbabyyy who read through it as soon as I was done  And thank you to @kazooli whose fics made me realize that I can write whatever the fuck I want

(Inspired by Yagami Yato’s Shigaraki Pt.3 audio)

Tomura was a man-child. Which meant that when he had a new toy, he couldn’t help himself but to rub it in other people’s faces that he had something that they – in fact – no longer had.

 The room was dimly lit, most of the light coming from the computer screen and the various sources of blue light stemming from the computer tower, mouse and keyboard.

Tomura sat in his computer chair, arms possessively wrapped around your form and you wriggled and squirmed in his grip, trying to get loose.

“Now, now,” Tomura rasped into your ear. “Don’t struggle too much. You wouldn’t want any accidents to happen, now would you?”

Your face scrunched up and you bit your lip, knowing exactly what Tomura could do to you – even accidentally – and you stilled in his grasp.

 His right hand left your figure now that you were placated and grabbed the computer mouse, the sound of it clicking reverberating through the otherwise quiet room.

You weren’t particularly interested in whatever he was doing on his computer, so you let your eyes wander through the room. You needed to find a way to get out of this situation, this room and especially this dangerous hold that he had over you.

You knew that the first two were comparatively easy to achieve, once you had successfully managed to pull off the latter one. After all, you hadn’t managed to become a pro hero without learning a skill or two.

But your offensive quirk just wasn’t suited to squirm free of his grasp without potentially getting disintegrated should all of his five fingers touch your body. Usually, you were quite content with your abilities but right now you couldn’t help but curse yourself for not being born with a quirk more similar to the one of your old teacher, Eraserhead.

Your gaze continued to examine the room, trying to find anything at all that could help you in your predicament. But mostly, the shelves were littered with games upon games, accompanied by the corresponding console. Behind you, a bed stood in the corner of the room, the sheets thrown on it carelessly. While those may not be able to aid you in your initial quest to rid yourself of his dangerous hands, you would be able to use them to cut off his vision once you had gotten free – even if it was just for a second.

 Your thought process was interrupted by Tomura, whose hand slid back to your body, grasping your hip in his hand while making sure that his pinky was lifted as to not accidentally kill you.

“Now we just have to wait for a few more minutes and the show can get started,” he said, his hands leisurely beginning to stroke your sides.

“Show?” you echoed confused and for the first time, your focus landed on the computer screen in front of you where a website you didn’t recognize was opened.

What you did recognize however, was the screen in the middle which reflected your own surprised face and the grinning one of Tomura behind you. Your eyes flitted to the top of the monitor to find a small camera on top, the little red light on the bottom center telling you that it was currently recording.

Back on the monitor screen, your eyes zoomed in on a small number in the corner and quickly you concluded that it showed the current viewer number of what obviously was a live stream.

“Wh-what are you planning, Shigaraki?” you asked him and turned your head and upper body so you could look in his eyes.

His gaze locked on to yours and a grin stretched across his face, cracked lips quickly moistened by his tongue so they wouldn’t crack further.

“Why, I thought since I’ve got you here, it would be a�� shame not to share all the fun we’re about to have with the world,” he explained. “I even sent some links out to your dear colleagues, wouldn’t want them to miss out on it, now would we?”

Your eyes darted back to the monitor for a second, the viewer counter steadily rising, before you locked your eyes with Tomura again.

“It doesn’t matter in what way you’ll try to hurt me. I’m a hero, for God’s sake, don’t think I’m not used to pain. All you’re going to achieve by streaming this, is that my colleagues will trace the IP and find this place even faster.” You sent him a defiant look.

 Tomura erupted into cackling laughter, sounding like the crazy madman he was. “Hurt you? Oh no no no no, I think you’re misunderstanding. I’m not going to hurt you.” His right hand moved upwards to grip the top of your hero uniform; his pinky raised by acquired habit.

“Rather, I thought…” he continued, his grip hardening around the sturdy material before he purposefully burrowed his hand in it. “We could have some fun in a different way.”

Your horrified gaze went towards your chest, where the material of your suit began to crumble away in ashes, opening the view to your undergarments.

“Fuck you!” you screamed and started to struggle in his grasp. His left hand gripped your side harder, pinky raised, while his right hand came up to grip your chin.

“N’ah, ah, ah,” he chided you and his grip on your chin became painful. “Don’t forget that I hold your life in my hands.”

Before you had the chance to reply to him, his lips descended upon yours. His kiss was harsh and bruising, the feeling of his chapped lips uncomfortable on yours. You tried to break free of his hold, but it was futile. His tongue slipped out of his mouth and licked your lips, hoping to gain entry. You pressed them together more fiercely, your jaw gnashing with the force you brought up to keep your mouth closed.

Tomura clicked his tongue in disapproval. He took his mouth off you for a second to take a look at your tense face.

“Now, now, doll, while it would be a shame if this level was too easy to clear, I think you still don’t understand exactly in what situation you are currently in.”

As if to prove his point, his hand lifted from your jaw and gripped the fabric of your sports bra with all of his fingers. Instantly, the material began to crumble away under his grip until all that remained was a small heap of ashes on your legs.

Now, with nothing to cover your shame, your face burned with embarrassment and your arms shot up to cover your breasts.

“Oh, don’t get shy on me,” Tomura grinned and grabbed your arms to pull them away from your chest. “I’m sure your viewers would love to get a good look at you.”

 You tried to fight his grip, but his raw strength was far superior to yours, so you had no chance but to uncover your breasts for everyone to see. Your eyes felt hot and began to sting but you refused to let any tears fall. A hero didn’t cry, no matter how dire the situation got. On the screen, you saw an influx of messages on the chat, not even bothering to try and read the contents; you were sure that it wasn’t something you would actually want to read.

Before Tomura could continue to embarrass you further, a “ding” sounded from the computer speaker into the silence of the room. This led Tomura to giggle in excitement.

“Seems like the first one of our special guests has just entered the stream,” he said from behind you. Your head whipped around to face him. “What is that supposed to mean?” you asked him, your voice barely louder than a whisper.

“Oh, don’t worry, my doll. That ‘ding’ you just heard? Means that one of my invitation links just got opened and one of your colleagues just decided to finally join us. Why don’t you be nice and greet him?”

Tomura took your right hand he was still holding and began to wave it for the camera. Your eyes closed in frustration, knowing there was nothing you could do about it. When he was finally done waving for you, his hand let go of your wrist and immediately you covered your chest the best you could.

His now free hand gripped your hair and pulled your head back. His head burrowed itself in the crook of your neck, nibbling and biting at your skin. His lips moved up towards your ear and he whispered “Now, let’s make sure that we put on a good show for our viewers.” before taking your earlobe into his mouth and biting on it.

“Once I’m out of here, I’ll fucking kill you,” you answered him through gritted teeth, trying to ignore the unpleasant wet feeling of his mouth on you. You felt him smile against your skin, but he didn’t say anything to you in return. Instead, his hand left your hair and glided down your face and neck, making its way down to your breasts.

Your hand gripped his wrist, trying to keep him from touching you in this intimate place but you already knew that you wouldn’t be able to stop him. Moments later, Tomura’s hand had reached its goal and he began to fondle your breast roughly, pulling and twisting your nipple.

Your face scrunched up in pain and once more, you tried to pull his hand away from your body – to no avail. He continued tugging and twisting and shamefully you noticed that your nipple was getting hard. You knew that it was merely a bodily response to being stimulated but it was still hard to stomach that your body was reacting to it when you sure as hell weren’t enjoying his ministrations in the slightest.

And it seemed like you weren’t the only one who had noticed. Tomura had as well and you felt his grin against your neck. “Oh, seems like somebody’s enjoying it?” he gloated and tugged on your nipple harder.

“As if!” you exclaimed, hoping that nobody else would believe his incredulous words. Everything about his touches was uncomfortable: His grip was rough and his hand felt scratchy on your delicate skin.

Once more, you started to wriggle in his grasp, knowing that nothing would come out of it. With just the threat of his hands, he had you defeated before you had even started fighting. And although what was about to happen horrified and scared you, death scared you even more.

Now his left hand let go of yours and instantly, you started curling in on yourself, trying to prevent him from touching you further or the viewers on the stream from seeing you. He allowed you to remain in this position for a few moments while his gaze was fixed on the screen, reading the influx of comments.

“It seems like the majority of our viewers want us to move on to the next level already,” Tomura said and his left hand snaked under your armpit and up to your throat, tilting your body back against his.

“What do you say we give the people what they want?” Another tug on your nipple, and his hand left your breast before it continued downwards to your panties. Your hands clawed at his arm, trying to free yourself from his grip and save the last bit of dignity you still had left. Tomura wasn’t fazed by that however and his hand steadily continued until it had clawed into the material of your underwear and it decayed into nothingness along with your last shred of hope to somehow free yourself of this situation.

The little pile of dust that had settled on your crotch was blown away by Tomura and his mouth stretched into a wide grin, his dry lips close to cracking open. The hand that had disintegrated your panties now took your right thigh and pulled it to the side, effectively spreading your legs and displaying your pussy for everyone on the stream to see.

You had closed your eyes, not wanting to see yourself and your shameful display mirrored on the screen. Your hands, that had been on his arm up until now, trying to free yourself of his grasp, fell limply to your sides as all fight left your body. You knew that there was no way you would be able to get yourself out of this situation before Tomura had had the chance to defile you. Your only option at this point was to wait for your colleagues to arrive and save you – and hoping that you wouldn’t get killed before they would do so.

Once Tomura felt your body slacken, he began to laugh. “What? Not gonna fight me anymore?” he asked, his voice full of malicious joy. “And here I was beginning to enjoy your feisty attitude.”

Your change in behavior didn’t however stop him from continuing on with his little show and his right hand moved from your thigh to your pussy lips, spreading them open with the pointer and middle finger of his hand to give his audience a good show.

“That’s some grade A hero pussy,” he grinned into the camera as rubbed his finger around your hole a few times. “I wonder how many dicks it has taken so far…”

He turned his face from the camera to you as if he was waiting for an answer. You weren’t willing to give him that information though and kept your mouth shut, even as he lifted his other hand from your neck to your cheeks to squeeze them and get you to talk.

After a moment however, it seemed as if he had lost patience waiting for your answer, as he retracted his hand and put it back into place on your neck.

“It doesn’t matter. Once I’ve fucked you, I’ll have you ruined for other dicks for all eternity,” he cackled, his pointer finger pushing into your dry cunt immediately after he had finished his sentence.

You hissed out in pain. The skin on his finger was rough and you – surprise, surprise – were not turned on at all, so it hurt when he shoved it inside without any preparation at all.

When Tomura heard your hiss, he cackled again, moving his finger around inside you.

“If you’re already struggling to take my finger, you will break apart once I shove my cock inside you.”

Slowly, he began to move his finger, and with horror you felt yourself getting wetter and wetter the more he prodded your walls. Soon, he was able to fit a second finger inside your heat, angling them upwards and against where he had read the g-spot was.

When you took a sharp breath, he knew that he had been successful and he continued to push against the little rough patch of skin, knowing it would be so much more bitter for you if your body enjoyed the ordeal.

After a few moments of pumping his fingers inside you, he stopped and leaned forward a bit, reading through the comments in the chat.

He laughed. “Yeah, that little hero pussy is getting nice and wet,” he replied to one commenter. “It’s sucking my fingers right in.”

As if to demonstrate, he pulled his fingers out a bit and moved them around, until a squelching sound could be heard, and then pushed them all the way inside again, which elicited a muffled moan you hadn’t been able to stop in time.

“She’s definitely enjoying herself,” he answered another comment, looking at you with a sleazy grin. “Isn’t that right, hero slut?”

You grit your teeth and held back the curses and slurs you wanted to reply with, knowing that it would amuse your tormenter.

Once Tomura felt like he had replied to enough comments, he turned his attention back to you, thrusting his fingers inside you harshly one last time before he took them out, lifting them to the camera first to show the glistening juices before he put them inside his mouth and licked them with an exaggerated hum.

“I hope you’re ready for the final boss,” he whispered into your ear, although he made sure that it was loud enough for his audience to hear.

You shook your head, one last time trying to squirm out of his grasp. All that achieved however was that your ass rubbed against Tomura’s bulge and he let out a soft hiss.

“No need to be impatient, little hero slut,” he said with a grin as the hand that held your neck lifted you higher so the other hand could loosen and push down his pants.

Even if you hadn’t wanted to, as soon as Tomura’s erection bobbed free and sprang up between your legs, your eyes wandered to it, widening when you saw his size.

Tomura had to have seen your expression mirrored in the stream because he let out a manic laugh, his entire body (and dick) shaking with the emotion.

“Oh, don’t worry, it won’t hurt… much,” he cackled as he rubbed his dick along your slit, coating it in your juices. You body twitched when the tip of his dick rubbed over your clit and a shameful whimper escaped your throat, although you willed yourself immediately to shut up.

Not wanting to see your own violation, you closed your eyes as Tomura positioned himself at your entrance and began to slowly push inside.

You couldn’t hold back the hiss that escaped your throat at the intrusion, nor the squirming as you tried to get away from it.

Tomura only tightened his grip on your neck you, pushing your body down on him as his dick breached further and further into your wet heat.

Tears threatened to escape your eyes once Tomura was fully seated in you and only through sheer willpower, you managed to hold them back, unwilling to give up this last bit of pride you had.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” Tomura groaned, stilling for a second to get used to the feeling of your cunt. “Don’t tell me you were a virgin?”

You bit your lip, refusing to answer the villain. No matter what you would say, he would only find it amusing and possibly use it to torment you further, either calling you a stuck-up hero bitch, thinking you’re too good for anyone, or a hero slut, willing to let anyone willing fuck you.

When Tomura realized he wasn’t getting an answer from you, he chuckled before he adjusted his four-finger grip on your neck, pulled almost all the way out of your cunt and slammed you down again until he was inside you to the base.

A pained cry flew from your lips but you had no time to even try and hold back your voice anymore, because Tomura immediately continued to jackhammer into you, moaning and panting into your ear as he showed the world how your cunt ate up his dick.

Your hands flew up to grab at his arm, futilely trying to steady yourself at least a bit, as he pushed and pushed and pushed into you. Squelching noises you were sure the microphone was picking up as well, came from your cunt as it greedily sucked Tomura’s dick back in every time he pulled back.

“Fuck, this is some grade A pussy,” Tomura groaned, his hips only slowing down a bit as his muscles began to hurt from the position. He caught his breath while he lazily thrusted into you, his moist breath uncomfortable on your ear.

Suddenly, Tomura moved and stood up from his chair, pushing you up as well with his hips. The hand that was around your throat slipped from under your arm and instead pushed down onto your back, laying you flat on his computer desk while his dick never left your tight cunt.

As soon as he had finished adjusting to the new position, he began railing you again, his hips slamming against your ass as his dick burrowed inside you further and further.

You let out a pained scream as his thrusts reached even deeper now, clenching your eyes shut as you tried to shut out the pain. At least in this position, the camera wasn’t able to get a shot of your face, you thought in relief, as it was too high to capture your body laid out on the desk.

Tomura must’ve noticed that fact as well because the next moment, the hand that pushed your back down moved up and grabbed your hair, pulling you up so your face was angled towards the camera. Your eyes flew open, a choked cry leaving you as you felt the burn on your scalp of your hair being pulled.

Right in front of you, you could see the red blinking light of the recoding camera and even though you wanted to close your eyes again, you found that the position made it impossible for you to do so.

So you had no choice but to stare into the camera as Tomura fucked you from behind while grunting and panting, your eyebrows furrowing as your eyes filled with tears.

After a minute of thrusting and you getting slammed against the desk again and again, Tomura leaned forward to read some more comments, his face erupting into a cackle when he read one of them.

“They’re saying I’m not taking care of you,” he told you, pulling at your hair some more so your head leant on his shoulder. “Saying you look like you’re not enjoying yourself.” He let go of your hair which caused you to fall forward onto the desk, almost slamming your head on the wood. “Let’s change that, shall we?”

With those words, his right hand began snaking around your waist, moving down so he could rub at your clit. His other hand pulled your back against his chest, giving the camera a better view and himself some more room to move his hand around your little nub.

At first, it was easy to ignore the touches on your clit, instead focusing on your uncomfortable position but then, he moved his fingers in a way that teased your clit just right and your mouth flew open as a loud moan left your lips.

“Ahh, so that’s what gets you going,” he laughed, immediately repeating the motion and trying to get you to make some more noises. You tried to hold back the sounds, tried to force yourself to close your mouth so no more moans and whimpers could escape you, but Tomura simply moved his hand on your chest upwards, pushing two of his fingers inside you mouth so it would stay open.

His thrusts had increased in speed again, his dick rubbing against your g-spot as his hands teased your clit and you felt yourself getting closer and closer to your peak.

You moved your body and tried to angle your hips in a way that would made Tomura’s actions at least a bit more bearable but he noticed right away and made sure that you could not escape the orgasm that was building inside of you.

“Fuck, you’re getting even tighter,” he rasped, out of breath due to his insane pace. “Are you gonna cum around my dick?” He laughed at your pained expression, letting out a grunt as your walls began twitching around him.

“Yeah, just like that. Cream around that villain dick like the hero slut you are,” he groaned, feeling himself edging closer and closer to orgasm as well.

With one last effort, you tried to move away and stop his hand from pushing you over the edge but it was useless and with a cry, you came on his dick, the tears you had held back the entire time running down your face as your body twitched and convulsed, milking his cock like some desperate bitch in heat.

Tomura let out a choked groan, pumping into you a few more time as he announced that he was going to fill your slutty pussy with his cum, before you could feel his dick twitching inside you. You wanted to shout, wanted to beg him to at least not cum inside but his hand was still in your mouth and so you simply cried in silence as his warmth spread through you and began dripping out of your pussy.

Tomura let out a shuddering breath as he calmed down from his high, falling down in his seat and taking you with him. His dick began to get flaccid and with a plopping sound the pulled it out of your abused cunt, spreading your pussy lips for your audience to show them the copious amounts of cum that now dripped out of your slit and down your ass.

“Next time,” Tomura laughed as he pushed his cum back inside with two of his fingers. “Let’s try out that back entrance of yours.” He teasingly let his finger circle around your cum-covered asshole while you simply lay on his chest, motionless except for your harsh breaths and the sobs leaving your body.

He wiped his gooey fingers on your chest before he leaned forward to grab his computer mouse, waving to the camera one last time and telling his audience he hoped they had enjoyed the show before he cut the stream and the red light of the camera turned off.

 ____________________________________________

When the screen turned black, back at the agency Katsuki slammed a fist on the table. He didn’t want to watch one of his coworkers violated but they needed to make sure you weren’t killed while his colleague on the desk worked on tracing the IP.

Katsuki whipped his head up, shouting over to the other pro-hero. “Did you fucking trace the stream?!”

It was silent for a minute while his colleague typed furiously, trying his hardest to get a location.

“…no.”

Katsuki’s scream of rage could be heard through the entire agency.

[oswinsdolma]

Yes, it's nearly 2.00am (because that's apparently the only time I have inspiration to write essays) but I've been thinking a lot about this lately and wanted to get it off my chest, so here you go:

The main goal of Merlin becomes disturbingly fractured along the way, which opens up the gaps for the prophecy to seep through instead of following the expected channels, but it can essentially be boiled down to three key elements 1) build albion; 2) decriminalise magic and 3) save Arthur, but when all is said and done, we never really see any of those objectives achieved.

Now, there are a few reasons for this, both from a writing perspective and a plot perspective. The first, and one of the most obvious, is that this show loves irony. I won't go into a lot of detail here because I've already written a whole ass essay in this very subject, but in a nutshell, you can look at this from two perspectives: firstly, it's important to establish that this technique is purely about the angst: it's the writers' way of provoking a reaction from an anguished audience, but it's foreshadowed just enough to make it more painful than it is shocking. Alternatively, there is the more plot motivated irony in that it genuinely makes a good story. Irony is a technique that has been used for thousands of years, not just because it provokes a reaction from the audience, but because it allows you to explore your characters in greater detail than before, riddling them with hidden juxtapositions and internal conflicts that are never resolved quite in the way you expect. The irony in Merlin is the epitome of this, with the whole motif of Arthur needing to die for his reign to begin. It is a classic example of the simultaneous despair and hope that mocks you from the shadows.

Following this, there is another force at play that deals with half truths and seemingly imperfect contradictions, and that's prophecy. It's not really a secret that I have very strong feelings about prophecy and its effects on all the characters, Merlin in particular, and the fact that fate and destiny are such key themes in Merlin both makes perfect sense and wants me to smash my head into a brick wall. Prophecies are another common trope that often go hand in hand with irony (think Oedipus Rex, Macbeth, The Iliad, all that doomed hero shit that I inexplicably adore), the key to their influence over the plot often lying in how they usually come true in the most unexpected of ways. This links back to that initial theme of irony, but this isn't what makes me angry: what is infuriating is that prophecies tend to come true, no matter what, and most of the characters seem not only to know this, but to let it take their autonomy over their respective fates, driving them to disaster.

Let me elaborate: especially in season five (I'm assuming just for the added fall at the end), Merlin talks a lot about how "one day, things will be different". He tells sorcerers that one day they won't have to hide. That one day, they won't have to live in fear of who they are and what others think of them. And Merlin is right: while it is not explicitly stated, it's generally established that this is one of the things Merlin should actively be working towards. But here's the kick: except for a few specific circumstances, when has Merlin ever actively tried to change Arthur's mind about magic? Yes, he has taken a few opportunities, like with Dragoon saving Uther's life, or with the Dolma's final request, where he has encouraged Arthur to rethink his choices, but otherwise, his support has been lukewarm at best. Instead, his primary concern was always saving Arthur, so he can become the king the magical world hoped he'd be, but he left out a crucial part, trusting in the prophecy to fill in the gaps. He knew it would come true, but it was, almost predictably, in the one way he never dared to expect.

And in a twisted way, there's that thread of irony again: Merlin thought he was saving Arthur so he could one day become the king who would see magic as a force for good, but instead, he created someone who was merely a survivor. It was Kilgharrah who said it first, and he who would mention it last: they are two sides of the same coin. But as willing as Merlin was to give his life for Arthur, and vice versa, he was never really ready to give him his mind.

Another interesting thing to note is Merlin's fixation on the "Saving Arthur" lens of the prophecy over the "Restoring Magic" part. Now, there are a ton of ways you can look at this, depending on how far along the scale of Queer Analysis you are, so I'm going to try and address a couple. At one end of the scale, you have the fairly simple and very believable "merthur" take. This basically boils down to the fact that Merlin and Arthur may or may not be deeply in love with one another, and that drowns out any voice of reason that may unfold. This is actually fairly canon compliant, particularly looking at incidents such as the Disir, when Merlin chooses Arthur over his and his people's freedom, though that choice was clearly, in hindsight, misadvised.

At the other end of the spectrum, there is the idea that it is the work of Kilgharrah, Gaius and other responsible figures in Merlin's life when he was new to his role in destiny, who reiterated at every occasion that Arthur must be protected at all costs. This may have ingrained into Merlin's thoughts and influenced his decisions from here on out.

Between those two points, there is a grey area, and I am of the personal opinion that neither extreme entirely satisfies the situation. For me, I think the characters in question are far too complex to have such simple motivations, and that the true reason lies somewhere between the two: Merlin undoubtedly cares for Arthur, and while at the start, his actions in protacting Arthur may have been driven by other (largely superficial) motives, over time, their mutual affection blossomed to the point where certainly the more personal quests were motivated not by need, but by love. However, there is a divide here, and while the line in the sand smudges from time to time, it never really disappears: a lot of instances in which Merlin is trying to help Arthur are entirely overshadowed by destiny, and in time, Merlin comes to accept that Arthur and Destiny are, in fact, one and the same, and this is where that ever-present tragedy lies. For all he truth in here, Merlin doesn't get everything quite right: he sees Arthur as a balance that needs to be protected, without fully realising that he doesn't just have to keep the sides of his equation in equilibrium, but he actually has to start solving them if he wants them to endure.

Having just said all that, sometimes I decide to fuck over complexity for a few hours purely because I am a shameless merthur hoe.

Also, can you take a moment to please note that this last section is highly subjective and it is completely up to you as to what you decide!! This is just my opinion and you're welcome to agree or disagree at any point.

So, aside from the Angst Factor™ and twisted character development, why was the main goal never fulfilled? Unfortunately, that is a question far cleverer people than me can only speculate, as the writers alone know the answers, but I'm going to give my opinion a shot. Honestly, there is something beautifullly poetic about something that never ends, or ends when there could be something more. Humanity has struggled with endings-and beginnings- since it learned truly how to think, because that kind of finality, that inkling that there might have been nothing before and after something else is incomprehensible. In leaving Merlin in a place where the next point was uncertain, the writers left the story open for us. In depriving us of that catharsis, they effectively made sure that the story would never be over, not until we want it to be. And yes, it was painful. I can't think of an ending that was more heartbreaking than that curious mixture of closures and openings all at the same time (hell, I could write a whole essay based on this concept alone!), but it was also a gift, ironically like that of the prophecy itself in that we can choose what we want to do with it, safe in the knowledge that there will be a happy ending again, one day.

In summary, we might not be left with catharsis in the way we wanted. We might not have got the happy ending that could also have stretched on and on indefinitely. But we were left with something else, something equally beautiful as closure, but in the complete opposite way. Amongst the remains of allwe had hoped to build, Merlin left us hope.

[secretsniper3]

Part 1: Sleep Tight

I approach my Master as he sits at his computer, tray in hand with Masters tea, as he instructed and how he likes it, placing the tray down while ignoring the moans from the porn on his screen i instead drop to my hands and knees and crawl under his desk, his cock already rigid and waiting for my mouth i open his pants slowly, hands in i grasp his cock. Masters cock isnt as thick as some other men, but its long enough to go down my throat and stop me breathing and his crazy stamina, no man has fucked me for hours and came multiple times in my pussy and ass before and Master earned my life mere weeks later.

Mouth opening  to welcome Masters amazing cock it slides in carefully, if Master feels teeth after all my training ill be a mockery to him, tongue coddling him lovingly he slides down my throat and i begin my favourite task, emptying Masters heavy balls. With the skills he hammered into me it only takes me just under 2 minutes to suck out any softness remaining and make him cum down my waiting throat, slamming my mouth to the base of his cock with his full length in me i feel it, Masters cum! His delicious cum flowing down and eventually his cock stops pumping and thats cue for me to resume pumping, Pulling back to suck on his head i eagerly swallow his length again and again, 1 minute later im rewarded once again.

Pumping his 5th load down my eager throat i can taste his cum coating my tongue, i never thought id love the taste of cum this much but after being trained by Master its almost a delicacy to me now! Feeling tired and well fed after my reward i lick my lips clean and look up to my Master.

“May i go to bed, Master?” I ask quietly. Master looks down with a smile on his face. “Of course you can, we just need to get you ready, lets get you ready.”

Rolling back in his chair Master leads me to the kitchen where Master gives me some vitamins to take with a glass of water, since cum isnt something you can live on alone, for someone on a mostly cum diet supplements are crucial. Leading me once again Master walks off to my room, its more of a place where the clothes and restraints Master bought for me are kept, not like a standard bedroom at all anymore. Walking to the wardrobe I cant help but wonder what ill be wearing tonight and my eyes widen as Master turns around holding my ultimate slave suit, a latex bodysuit. I fight back the urge to plead not to wear it as the simple act of touching latex, any latex anywhere after all the training Master put me through gets my pussy wet almost instantly, and with extended contact, will make me cum without any external stimulation.

Pushing me onto the bed i raise my legs and Master begins sliding the suit on, the sensation is already incredible but i know better than to cum without permission, or my obvious pleasurable night will be swapped for a torturous night in the basement. Before sliding past my thighs Master instructs me to stand and bend over the bed, as i do Master slides a large, heavily lubbed dildo up my ass, followed by 5 vibrating eggs slipping inside my pussy and a ring on my clit to expose it from the hoods embrace, the bodysuit covering it all tightly. The sensation is unbelievable, my exposed clit rubbing on latex directly, I cant resist and grasp my breast with my hand only to have it immediately pulled back down beside my body.

“Naughty, naughty my dear, can you not control yourself?” Master says with a smile, knowing full well I couldn't stop yourself. “sorry master” I reply weakly.

Pushing the wires to my inserted toys through a small gap in the pants just over my mound, Master continues to encase me in its tight embrace. Covering my breasts and my solid, sensitive nipples I gasp out as they get pressed into my supple breasts without a pause. I raise my arms and further my latex addicted body’s torment by subjecting my arms to its tight embrace. Reaching deep to the base my fingers meet the goal and Master pulls the latex over my shoulders, it isnt over yet. As Master slowly pulls the zipper up my spine I shudder alone with the movements till it reaches my neck. A latex hood is next, oh god I though it couldn't get any worse, or better. I still dont know how to process the sensations I was feeling.

Pulling my long red hair through the hood, the latex sits firm on my skin, mouth, nostrils and eyes, the only skin still uncovered, but that too would change. Hood pulled tight my red lips open to accept the harness gag behind my teeth, buckled tight so it cant rattle around I am pushed down onto the bed. Sitting beside me Master grabs my left foot firmly, raising it up Master slides my beautiful feet into their own prisons. Ballet heels swallow my feet and Master begins lacing it up nice and tight, padlocking it when its done Master then repeats on my right foot. A 1 foot long chain is attached to my ankles by the padlocks ensuring I cant run, let alone walk, if I could walk at all in these ballet boots.

Holding a roll of black latex tape Master begins to wrap around my thighs, just above my knees and pinning them together, reminding me of the toys stuffed inside me as I lay there unmoving. Armbinder revealed I know not to fight my Masters hands as I move my arms behind my back. It only took a minute to slide it in place and pull the laces tight, sealing my hands and elbows together. Thinking this was the last of my restraints I blink in surprise as Master pulls out 2 more chains and 2 padlocks.

Attaching a chain to the top of my harness gag to the headboard followed by a chain linking my hobble chain to the foot of the bed I realize I cant move.. not even wiggle, im pulled almost as tight as the latex covering me. I take a deep breath in my new situation, smelling the latex that coats my entire body, I can feel my pussy leaking freely with nothing I can do about it. As Master rolls me over to meet his caring gaze I can hear Master tell you “im not ready for bed yet, my dear, but ill let you get some rest if you can get some rest of course.” and with a click of his remote my ass and pussy come alive with vibrations rocking every nook and crany inside my body. My soul itself is dancing to the vibrations and I can already feel, with seconds into the night Im cumming hard. Eyes already watering as I grasp the concept of how many orgasms Im going to have tonight Master pulls the blindfold over my eyes, sealing them shut.

“Its okay, slave. You can cum as much as you want tonight, im going back to my room now, sleep well, cum hard, have a fantastic night, my slave.

[chironshorseass]

“We're gonna be okay, I promise that” for the prompts, if you want to ofc

yeah, um...i planned on making this angsty. but then i remembered: skater percy.

read on ao3

“We're gonna be okay, I promise that.”

Annabeth looked down at the steep slope of the concrete beneath her. It was steeper than she’d thought.

Slowly, her eyes drifted back to her boyfriend, whose hands rested comfortably on her hips.

“How do I know that we’re not gonna fall off and die?” she said, not daring to move an inch from her death grip on Percy’s neck.

It was a miracle that he hadn’t choked from her grasp already. She probably looked laughable—all paralyzed and wide-eyed—but she didn’t care.

“Because,” he said, holding her tighter. “I’ve got you. And I’m not letting go.”

“Reassuring,” she muttered but didn’t argue further.

She had to do this. There was a reason why she’d practically begged Percy to teach her how to skateboard. She knew the basics now, but hanging out too much with his friends and feeling useless around them as they all took to skating around this particular park had done something to her self confidence.

However, she’d told herself that she could do this.

And yet, she had no clue why the idea of this ramp and her balancing on just a piece of wood terrified her so; she’d experienced much more frightening situations during her lifetime. Monsters weren’t exactly cute and cuddly, after all. But there was just something about this slope and this skateboard that made her want to run and hide and never look back.

“Hey,” Percy said softly. He’d likely sensed her thoughts, what with how well he knew her. “We don’t have to do this, you know. It’s okay to be scared. I was scared the first time I tried this. We can just do it another time.”

“No, no—I want to try this out.” Because she couldn’t give up; her pride wouldn’t allow it.

“It’s going to be a breeze after the first time. Trust me on this.”

Easy for him to say. He was the invulnerable one in the relationship.

“Just…don't let go, okay?” she said.

“I won’t. Already promised that.”

He tucked a stray curl behind her ear—which was partially hidden under her helmet. A helmet he’d forced her to wear, though she realized just how foolish she’d been to argue with him against it, because if she fell off, the helmet was her only salvation. His fingers swiped at some other stray hairs, and the tender feel of his fingers brushing against her skin made her heartbeat slow down its galloping pace.

“You ready?”

She took a deep breath and nodded. “Yeah, okay. Cool.” Her arms wrapped around his neck impossibly tighter than before. “Let’s do it.”

“Okay,” he repeated, grinning.

She saw his leg lift itself off the ground, ready for its placement on the skateboard. But still, the board barely moved an inch, as if Percy was waiting for some kind of signal.

“What are you waiting for, Seaweed Brain? Get it over wi—AAAHHHH!”

The words left her throat in a shrill screech. Clarisse would’ve never let her forget it if she’d been present in that moment. Luckily, it was just her and Percy and the steady roll of the small wheels beneath her feet. She closed her eyes and concentrated on what Percy had taught her. Tighten the butt and tighten the abdomen.

And most importantly, not letting go.

The moment was over as quick as the wind rushing past her face when going down the ramp. Through her screams, all she’d felt was Percy. She’d only felt his warm hands on her back keeping her in place, and when she opened her eyes, they were gliding steadily across the rest of the park.  

Annabeth let out a breath of relief.

“That...wasn’t so bad,” she managed to say, glancing up at him.

The smile he gave her was infectious—a boyish grin that only meant trouble. Fit for a skater boy, some of the Aphrodite kids would say.

But she knew, better than most, that Percy meant more than just trouble. He was beautiful this way, with his snapback making his curls peak out like clouds in the sky and his green eyes sparkling with pride, that gaze directed only to her.

“Hey, I knew you could do it,” he said as they turned a corner.

With the wheels from the skateboard, the concrete felt as smooth as glass, like she could skate for hours without stopping. Most of all, this closeness to him felt like freedom. Like the first breath after submerging underwater. It was as if, now that she’d gone down that ramp, she felt unstoppable with a giddiness that only occured on the first kiss, or on a first date.

She’d begun to realize however, that with Percy, everything new felt like turning a chapter.

“Feeling good for another round?”

She found herself beaming. “Sure thing.”

They stopped suddenly, and she craved that intimacy with him as soon as he jumped back into solid ground. She had no choice but to do the same.

“I’ll accept another round. But only if you don’t let go,” she said, nudging him. They walked side by side, hand in hand, towards the ramp.

“Easier said than done.”

Suddenly, he halted in his step but didn’t drop her hand. That’s when she turned around, only to find him mere inches away from her.

“What are you doing?”

He cocked his head to the side, sending her that look. It was a look that she’d never get used to, even now, that they were dating. His lips tugged upwards; she felt his arm drag her closer to him, like when they were riding on that skateboard that currently lay discarded on the ground.

“You told me to not let you go.” He shrugged. “That’s what I’m doing.”

His breath was warm against her lips.

“Getting cocky, are we?”

It came out breathier than she expected. It wasn’t like anyone could blame her, really. Not when Percy’s lips spread to a full-on grin as he cupped her cheek.

“What can I say? Dating you makes anyone’s ego skyrocket.”

She barked out a laugh, ignoring the way her cheeks grew hot. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”

He only hummed, leaning down even more. Taking his face in her hands, Annabeth, guided him closer—and that’s when her helmet bumped with his forehead, making them both laugh.

“I told you the helmet was stupid,” she said.

“Ah, fuck it.”

Percy’s head tilted slightly further to the left, and before she could protest, their lips had already met in a soft, feather-light kiss. Sighing, her fingers brushed against his jaw. She stood on her tippy toes, then, deepening the kiss.

Who knew he’d one day grow taller than her? Sometimes, she saw it as a disadvantage. Like right now, as she tried to grab hold of Percy's snapback that was just barely out of reach. Finally achieving her goal, she broke the kiss.

“Hey!” he protested, noting how she’d promptly taken his snapback and placed it on top of her head. “What was that for?”

Annabeth gave him a quick peck on the lips before stepping away. She winked at him, throwing her helmet his way.

“It’s my turn to look cool, now!”

“Get back here!”

But she’d already broken into a sprint, reaching for the ramp.

“Race you to the top!” she called out.

“That’s not fair and you know it!”

“See ya later, boy!”

“Ohh you are not quoting Avril Lavigne on my watch!”

“Why not?”

She felt a breeze brushing by her side and heard the tell-tale sound of the roller wheels. Faster than she’d thought possible, Percy whirled and whisked the snapback into his own hands, then tossed the helmet she’d hurled at him earlier. Demigod instinct took care of that, hands reaching to catch it in the blink of an eye.

“Hey, no fair!”

“You weren’t being fair, either!” is all he said, as he kicked back with his leg and sprang to the top.

Show off.

He made skating look easy, the jerk.

Apparently leaving a skateboard behind with a Skater Boy had its disadvantages. But she laughed anyway, once she reached the top—once he belted out the lyrics to that Avril Lavigne song at her arrival.

The pull of gravity when skating down the ramp took her breath away, but afterwards, she laughed again, and again, until that’s all she knew how to do.

And of course, she now knew how to skate.

(She’d found that in more ways than one, dating a skater had its perks.)

[witchsheartbooks]

If you aren’t too busy, could you possibly do some headcannons for Claire + the boys with their s/o during a blackout due to a thunderstorm??

Personally I find peace in the rain but I did pepper some variety in there for you, Dear anon so please enjoy.

Claire:

As a loud clap of thunder resonated against the roof of the house you shot up in bed with a start.

You hated thunder storms they always made you anxious. The noises, the flashing lights outside, how rickety everything felt in the house when a storm would get severe enough.

You just did not vibe with any of it at all.

Claire wasn’t exactly fond of storms either, but she didn’t mind them too much. Her only real gripe was the fact that she wouldn’t be able to sit outside and enjoy the flower fields she liked to visit or the garden the two of you shared.

Stirring sleepily in bed her voice groggily carried through the room, “What’s wrong y/n. Did the storm wake you?”

Hearing her voice just made you melt you could never quite describe why Claire made you so relaxed but whatever the reason, you appreciated it none the less.

You glanced at the bedside clock, but the numbers didn’t show. It wasn’t even lit up- fuck a blackout? Really? Right now when you felt your most vulnerable?

Your mind began racing again, thoughts only slowing as Claire drowsily booped your nose with her finger. “Y/N look over here.”

Weird how she was the one redirecting you for once.

You gently took her hand as she was withdrawing it, fingers clasping tightly.

“I’ll hum for you ok, y/n? Then we can go back to sleep.”

Reluctantly, you laid back down, resting your head against her chest so the only sounds you could focus on were her heartbeat and the soft chime of her voice.

You were asleep again in mere moments.

Ashe:

He always found the rain soothing, on nights he could sleep anyway.

Sometimes it quelled the nightmares which often clutched at his heart.

As thunder rumbled, he felt you stir next to him, your arms gripping his midsection in a vice.

“Awake now then, Y/N?” You groan at his statement. Atleast Ashe was warm. Why wasn’t he asleep?

You slowly sit up, rubbing your left eye. You then notice the room is pitch black and the sound of him setting a book aside resounds through the empty room.

That made more sense, seems he couldn’t sleep and chose to read. In the dark…?

“Is the power out?”

He hummed a reply, “Yes, and I was just getting to the interesting part of this citation. Though, perhaps your company will be more interesting, hm?”

The two of you then proceed to talk through the rest of the evening. That book had interested him but any time he had with you was more precious.

Wilardo:

You had been helping Wilardo with the flowers all day and had fallen asleep quite early.

Normally you consider yourself a night owl. You rarely sleep at normal hours but because of the work you did today, you had ended up passing out on a loveseat in the living room.

Wilardo couldn’t bring himself to move you since most of the time you were a light sleeper anyway. He had put a soft blanket on you though.

A thunderclap resounded, shaking the roof of the house which then awoke you with a start.

You didn’t recognize your surroundings at first but before you had a chance to get up a low gravely baritone grasped your attention.

“Yea, that one was pretty fuckin’ loud huh?”

Rising from his spot on the couch, he turned to look over to you. Seems instead of choosing the bed, he laid in wait on the couch closest to you.

Had he intended to sleep there if you hadn’t woken up? That seemed possible.

Wilardo was never really picky about where he slept so long as it was close to you.

He stood from the couch, stretching and with an exhale he crossed the distance between the two of you.

“Power went out bout ten minutes ago. Least the garden will be well watered. We can check any wind or flood damage tomorrow.”

Wilardo had brushed some stray strands of hair from your face, gently stroking backwards to pat your head before withdrawing his hand.

“We can stay up as long as ya need to, y/n. Can even pick the room ya want since the window in this one is so damn large.”

You shake your head, rising to meet him with your blanket draped on your shoulders. Sauntering to the windowsill you sit along it among the cushions.

Sure, the rain was scattering hard across the window, but it was something you enjoyed watching.

The sound of the thunder itself was your only real aggravation when it came to storms.

Wil had followed you, sitting behind you and pulling you back with a tug so you could lay back against him.

Both of you had napped here like this on sunny days, though tonight you both exchanged small stories as you watched the rain paint the window.

Sirius:

You were watching the rain from bed, unable to sleep.

Sirius was asleep next to you, arms curled around your midsection. It’s how he always slept but denied it anytime it was brought up in conversation.

A loud thunder clap resounded outside, with this the lavender went rigid against you.

The two of you may be an item now but he still was rather reluctant to be completely open about his emotions with you.

Thankfully, you were the observant type so this didn’t frustrate you as much as it would for most.

Exhaling, his arms had tightened into a vice, you could tell he was hoping you weren’t awake yet.

Sirius loathed displaying weakness in front of others, especially those he greatly admired.

You counted yourself lucky as being one of very few on that list.

Mocking a yawn, you stretched your back against his chest, a hand reaching back to comb through his hair.

You even went so far as to fake the bleariness of sleep in your voice. “What’s wrong, Sirius?”

He melted into you, rather reluctantly but so long as you didn’t bring it up then it was likely he wouldn’t chastise you for it.

“This bloody storm is making sleep nigh impossible for me.” He grumbled tiredly with a huff.

You let him vent about it, you know storms bothered him; especially if they were loud.

“Mmm, then we could talk until it passes?” You suggested gently. Your goal was to redirect his attention onto something else.

He scoffs, “That isn’t the worst idea. Though it seems you’ll be the one leading the discussion this time, Love. I find myself unable to still my train of thought.”

“Oh? Don’t I lead in most situations anyway?” You couldn’t help but tease him slightly, he had left himself open for such a statement with his phrasing.

You could feel his glare but he only sighed, “Yes well it isn’t as if you’ve complained about it in the past now have you? And you’re rather lucky, I let no one else do anything of the sort.”

He paused, burrowing his face into your shoulder upon realizing what he had said with a loud “Ugh, how is it that you bring out this sort of honesty in me so easily?!”

To this you laugh, “It’s not so bad. Atleast it stays between us. So, I wouldn’t stress so much about it.”

“I suppose you aren’t wrong…it’s simply embarrassing that it happens to begin with.” With this statement, silence carried between the both of you for a few minutes.

That was until thunder clapped again and he tensed against you back.

You roll to face him and bring his face to your chest, “Relax. You’re wound up tighter than a bed spring.”

Sirius grumbled quietly until you began to hum softly.

It took a few minutes but gradually he drifted into a light sleep in your arms.

Noel:

He was always up in the evenings, rain or clear nights it didn’t matter.

You had dozed off next to him, he was already in a down mood from there being no stars that night.

Lightening lit up the sky outside the window and the thunder clapped so hard it shook the house.

Noel’s chest tightened and instinctively he gripped your hand.

Loud sounds bothered him more than he could explain.

He had reacted this way if you ever dropped a pan too. You wondered if it was related.

Stirring from both the sound and pressure of his hand, you recognize the signs and sit up quickly.

You rub his shoulder and hum softly.

He leans into your chest, curling like a cat as you sooth him through his panic attack.

You’d done this before, but in the pitch black like this where only the occasional lightening lit the room.

It felt like you were closer to him than you’ve ever been.

That thought alone brought you peace as you focused on soothing Noel back to his senses.

Gradually he found them, slipping into the depths of sleep against you so very shortly after. ~Mod Sirius

[awkwardspontaneity]

Battle for the Sky

Link x GN!Sheikah!Reader

Part 4 of Memories of You

Prev | Next

Summary: Link and Y/n are called to Rito Village when a dark beast has taken over Vah Medoh and Y/n’s biggest fear finally comes to light.

AN: I finally finished this part. May have gone a touch overboard with this one it’s like 2500 words. I just had a lot of fun writing the battle and the characters. Its got a lot of fighting and mayybe a teensy bit of angst. I rlly like Revali so I had to feature him. bit of gore so just a warning

regular= present    italic= memory

Link stood atop Revali’s Landing, eyes closed as he enjoyed the cool breeze. There was so much to do before he could save Zelda, but after having to sneak through the Yiga hideout and his fight to free Vah Nabooris he relished this quiet moment. Even if it was only a few minutes under the light of the moon, he would take the time to think.

So many memories were coming back in a jumbled mess. Like pouring the pieces of a puzzle out of the box. But he hadn’t been given the full picture yet. So much of who he was was in those few precious moments he had with his friends, all he wanted was to have that back. At the very least he wished to remember those he had lost 100 years ago when calamity struck.

And yet, a part of him almost didn’t want to remember. The more he recalled his friends, the more he was reminded that because of his failures they had been lost. Trapped within their Divine Beasts with no escape for 100 years. Forced to watch as the very things they were supposed to use for protection wreaked havoc across their beloved homes. Maybe Revali had been right about him not being up to the task.

Revali.

The last time he had come to the Rito Village had been for a monster attack on Vah Medoh too hadn’t it.

“Impressive, I know.” 

Revali hovered softly before landing on the railing. A smirk stretched across his beak as he looked down at Link. Although this level of bravado was normal for the Rito warrior, Link suspected he was playing up his capabilities in response to their presence.

“Very few can achieve mastery of the sky.” So this was how the trip would be then. “Yet I have made an art of creating an updraft that allows me to soar. It’s considered to be quite the masterpiece of aerial techniques, even among the Rito”

At this point Link was discreetly looking for Y/n. They had said something about asking the village chief for the key to Medoh before running off and leaving him alone. He was sure that they had done this to avoid Revali’s complaints. Still, Link wished they would hurry and save him. Revali responded better when they were present. Or at least, he was more capable of tolerating Link with Y/n around to deflect conflicts.

“Now then,” Revali hopped down from his perch, drawing Link’s attention back to him, “my ability to explore the firmament is certainly of note, but let’s not- pardon me for being so blunt- let’s not forget that I am the most skilled archer of all the Rito. Yet despite these truths, it seems that I have been tapped to merely assist you. All because you happen to have that little darkness- sealing sword on your back.”

Link looked down with a clenched jaw. Hylia he wished Y/n would come save him. 

“There you are!” He felt a breath escape him at Y/n’s call. There was only so much of the Rito warrior’s ego one could put up with. 

Y/n skipped over to stand beside Link and gave the two Champions a grin, “I got Medoh’s key from the chief so if the two of you are ready, we should head up.”

Recali scoffed at the smaller Sheikah, waving his wing in a dismissive manner, “There’s no such need for the two of you to board Medoh. As a matter of fact your presence here is quite redundant, so why don’t you run along back to the princess like the good little hero’s you are.”

Link stepped forward to stop Revali from taking off but was stopped by Y/n placing a hand on his arm. “If you’re flying off to the archery range to get in more practice you can meet us back here. We’re fully prepared to wait until you feel ready.”

“Excuse me?”

“The chief told me you haven’t been able to enter Medoh for nearly a week due to this monster.”

“I assure you I can kill it on my own.”

Y/n sighed, reaching out to carefully lay a hand on Revali’s wing. “We only want to help. There’s no shame in working alongside your comrades. Besides, consider it a favour from us for your future help in defeating Ganon.”

“I suppose, I have no choice.” The Rito warrior hardly looked pleased with them forcing his hand, er, wing. The feathers on his neck were ruffled up as the trio looked tensely at the flying beast above. “I’m sure that even if I were to fly off at this moment, the two of you would still go on up to Vah Medoh and end up getting thrown over the sides.”

Y/n let out a nervous laugh at his snide remark and Link found himself wondering if the tightness in their voice was due to Revali being correct in his assumptions… or maybe something else.

------

Link and Y/n appeared on top of Vah Medoh in a swirl of blue light. They were swiftly met by Revali pushing them to stay hidden. He was quick to explain the winged beast, how it crawled across Medoh with sprawling legs. Y/n had mused about winged octopi only to be flicked on the head by Revali. 

As the trio emerged from their hiding spot the two Hylians found Revali had not given nearly enough detail on the horrific creature. It was as large as he had described, with muscled legs sprawling across the wings of the Divine Beast. Its body resembled a Lynel, thick arms ending in sharp claws. Possibly the most terrifying thing were the wings sprouting from its back. They were dark and feathered, each one dripping with malice that ran down its body before piling across the ground like muddy footprints. 

Link heard Y/n draw in a sharp breath as they crept along the edge in their approach. He reached out to place a hand between their shoulder blades, a simple motion they had developed in their journeys to signal they were with the other. Whether in physical danger or an uncomfortable situation, they would handle things together. He wasn’t sure how much comfort he could offer at this moment, but he’d make due with the promise to be by their side. Even if he was worried about the feeling of their shallow breaths against his hand.

After carefully making their way to the center terminal of the Divine Beast, Revali gave a quick signal before crouching to take off. As the wind picked up around the Rito, Y/n took in a breath before squeezing Link’s wrist and darting out from their hiding spot. 

“HEY SLIMEBALL!!”

Apparently that was extremely offensive to the beast because as soon as it located the small Sheikah it tore off after them. Y/n sprinted away sending a wink as they passed the terminal and Link. Y/n reached the first pillar and slid to a stop behind it right in time to take cover from the bomb arrows exploding against the creature's torso. Mangled wings came up to protect the beast from further blasts giving Link the opportunity to lunge forward and strike down its legs. He managed to slash through two of the muscular appendages before the creature let out a screech and spread its wings, and with them, an attack of razor sharp feathers. 

Y/n had come out from their spot behind the pillar, luckily just in time to slash a feather in half before it could hit Link. The duo exchanged grins before taking off to continue their plan. Y/n would lead the beast away with their faster speeds while Revali would circle above, waiting for the moment when the Sheikah would twist the monster around pillars where he could strike it with a volley of bomb arrows. Then while it wrapped itself in its wings for protection, Link would unleash a flurry rush, slashing away at its legs until they disappeared in a haze of dark smoke.

They pulled off their barrage of attacks until the final leg dissipated giving it one option. 

To fly.

Fortunately, they had planned for this, and Revali struck the creature before it could get far. It crashed to the ground with such a force, it shook the entire Divine Beast in the sky. Y/n let out a scream as they lost their balance, reaching out to grab the pillar they stood beside. He knew he had a goal to complete but, as he slashed away at the fallen creature, all Link could think about was how he wanted to rush to his friend's side. 

The creature seemed to sense Link’s hesitation because it began to spasm, forcing Link to jump back. It seized the moment and took off into the skies screeching as Revali circled too close.

“We must finish this quickly!” Revali dove closer to the two champions, being mindful of the writhing beast in the skies. “That thing is getting desperate, and I only have so many arrows left.”

Link gave him a terse nod as he rushed over to Y/n who was still pressed against the pillar. 

“Y/n.” Only a small hum escaped them, although there was a comfort in the way they leaned into his touch. “Y/n, I don't know what’s going on in your head right now, but we need you. Revali’s almost out of arrows and I don’t think I can take it down alone.”

Their hand curled around his, shaky but tight. “I’m okay.” He was sure neither of them believed the grin that pulled at their lips. “Its wings are the only thing it has left to attack with, right? Keep its attention and I’ll take them out.”

“Are you sure?”

“I have to be.”

He nodded, although his expression betrayed his concern, something Y/n took note of. They smiled softly, albeit weakly, and out their forehead against his. “Relax Hero, we can do this.”

Link sighed softly, pressing his head against theirs with a little more force. They pulled away sharing nervous grins before Link took off. 

Fortunately, the beast had been distracted by launching feathers at Revali, who had been swooping around it with practised expertise. Link gave a shout to signal he was ready for Revali to shoot down the monster and, with an audible scoff, the Rito notched his arrows.

With a thunderous crash the beast landed on Medoh once again and, fighting the urge to look back at Y/n, Link rushed forward with his sword drawn. Link slashed and chopped away at the creature's muscular arms, trying to force it to spread its wings. It took longer than he had hoped for with far too many close calls before wings spread, throwing sludge along with it. If it weren’t for the glint off Y/n’s twin blades, Link almost wouldn’t have seen the young Sheikah sprint past. Before the monster could register their presence, Y/n had hopped from its arm, up to the shoulder, and flipped over to land on its back. 

What came next was a flurry of silver blades and the tearing of malice dripping flesh. The monster attempted to rear back and reach Y/n with its arms but it was stopped by Revali and Link each attacking an arm, preventing it from being able to knock off their partner. 

With a final flourish, Y/n thrust both blades between the beast's wings. A harrowing shriek escaped the beast as it trembled from the blow. The malice surrounding it began to bubble and swell up. With a grunt, Y/n placed a foot against its back and tore their blades free. They looked up at Link with a grin but, just as they opened their mouth to shout, the monster exploded.

The moment Link uncovered his face, he was met with the sight of Y/n sliding off the edge of Vah Medoh. Link took off as fast as he could, watching as they scrambled for a grip along the edges but came up with nothing. Link hit the ground, sliding towards them with an outstretched hand. The two made eye contact and Link’s heart twisted at the terror within their ruby eyes. He felt their fingertips touch before Y/n was gone, their desperate cry as they slid over the edge carrying across the wind.

Link stared at his empty hand. He would have thrown himself over the edge after Y/n had he not seen the flash of blue following Revali as he shot after the Sheikah like an arrow from his bow.

The moments Link lay there waiting for Revali to return were spent forcing himself to breath while his lungs were crushed under the weight of guilt. He could still feel his fingertips brushing against Y/n’s. See the expression of fear that had torn the grin from their face as they cried out.

Wind swirled around Link, forcing him to sit up as Revali soared past him. The Rito landed on Medoh and, in a surprisingly tender moment, laid a wing upon the Sheikah warrior clinging to him like a koala.

Link was quick to approach the two, getting a glimpse of the way Y/n’s brow furrowed as they hid their face in Revali’s feathered chest. Noticing the way Link watched the two, Revali scoffed before grabbing at Y/n’s arms. “You’re not falling anymore, you can stop tugging at my feathers.”

Y/n mumbled an apology as they shakily detached themselves and stepped to the ground. They managed a wobbly grin that was interrupted by Link crashing into them. Y/n let out the faintest sob as they buried themselves deeper into his arms. Link tightened his grip, carefully pressing his nose into their hair. The two heroes held each other tightly, hoping to ground themselves in the other. To remind themselves that they were together still.

“Ahem.” The bubble popped around the two heroes as Revali looked on in barely hidden irritation. He tapped his talons against Medoh, sighing as the two looked at him with wide eyes. “As wonderful as it is that we are all, in fact, alive. I would appreciate it if you could use whatever it is you brought to seal away that creature.”

“Right.” Y/n stepped towards the terminal, Link’s hand still held tightly in their own. They pulled a seal from one of their pouches before mumbling a few phrases. Deep violet tendrils of malice swirled around, collecting in front of Y/n. The seal they held began to glow blue, spreading its own tendrils of light outwards. The lights seemed to dance through the air around them. Gathering together until they spiraled into the paper seal in Y/n’s hands.

“That should be it. Now can we please get off this bird?”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

[mochii0park]

 meraki; chapter 01 I jhs

Title: Meraki

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader / Jin x Reader

Part of series: Waterlilies and Japanese Bridge

Genre: angst I fluff

Pairing: literaryscout!hoseok x writer!reader

Word count: 4.5k

Summary: Throughout your whole life you lived in your sister’s shadow, watching from side-lines as she formed herself into a successful businesswoman with an envying life. Never being able to fill her shoes you gradually understood the meaning of an estranged family and the burden it carried. The twenties began slowly slipping from your grasp which had been embedded with insecurities and longing for fulfilment. Pouring your heart out to strangers with a pseudonym meraki, you began second guessing the decision when an email lands in your inbox.

Author's note: unedited, it's 2am I'll reread it tomorrow

Taglist: if you want to be added to the taglist message me

@namsope32 , @cuteipat , @ofvopemin

Masterlist

Meraki masterlist

< intro | chapter 02 >

Seokjin got engaged and moved to the USA.

Your lanky fingers hover over the keyboard, the reality of the situation still lingering in the air. The send button felt heavy, as if the action would make a shift in your universe. You have already made mends with how things were going between you, but it still felt crushing.

Sucking up the little pride you had left after lying to your friend, you push the button and lock the phone hoping to gain some sanity in your walk back to the apartment. It had been a regular night out with your friends. Coffee chitchat alongside freshly baked cookies which you got as an apology for being late.

Your mutual friends felt the need to notify you of the sudden change in Seojkin’s life, wanting you to hear it from them first. Pushing it to the back of your mind as nothing but an additional fact, you continue through the night with a smile. That lasted until you the rounder the corner.

Seokjin had been your friend through university and even later as you grew up and struggled to make ends meet.  You had been there for him when his girlfriend of five years decided to dump his ass having a shift in her feelings towards him. You mended his heart through late night talks and rides across the city. He was your kiss partner after breakups, picking up your self-esteem and gluing it together. In conclusion, Seokjin was your everything. If only the feeling was mutual.

Days before deciding to confess to him, he blasts your phone with messages about a girl that pulled all the strings in his heart and awoke oceans of memories. Kim Jisoo was his high-school crush with whom he lost contact after entering his last relationship. Reconciling through social media the two hit off where they last left it and suddenly you became the dust under his shoes. 

Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months of not seeing him. With a deeply rooted pain in your chest and a jealousy for the new girl in his life you stepped down allowing Jisoo to consume his being. Afterall who were you than a mere friend, easily replaceable.

The last slap came when you drunkenly confessed, having enough of their roller coaster like relationship. That was the last time you’ve heard of Seokjin’s teary-eyed voice telling you goodbye over the phone. No matter how many times he told you this sounded like the end and the suffering he felt was unbearable; it was nothing compared to the sound of your heart shattering into pieces.

Sehun told you many times that the timing was so off it made him uncomfortable, but that’s the thing about you and Seokjin. Everything was off with the two of you. From kisses to cuddles to nudes after midnight to serious conversations about pineapple pizza. Friends don’t do that, is what you kept telling yourself when the feelings for him slowly grew from platonic to romantic.

In midst of your thoughts your phone rang. Sehun the attachment dealer flashed across your phone. Giggling at the memory of how the nickname came to be, a warm feeling nest itself inside your chest. “Hello?”

“Where are you?”

“I left the Howl Cafe, I’m near home.”

He hums, the sound of the blinker echoing in the distance. “I’m there in five. Meet me at the bus station at beginning of your street.”

There were instances when disobeying Sehun felt like the biggest thrill of your life but right now when feelings you couldn’t pinpoint ran through you clouding your judgement, Sehun felt like a silver lining. As you wait for him to arrive, you can’t help but scroll through your phone in search for that one picture of Seokjin.

The only one you’ve saved after your last conversation. He was leaning against the wall of the bakery, a cigarette hanging from his mouth. His bleached hair fell over his rimmed glasses giving him an emo vibe. It was somewhere around three am when you’ve taken this photo. 

Both of you exhausted from running aimlessly around the city. He begged you to visit this bakery at the top of a hill, assuring you about the quality of their goods. You remember that night vividly, how you would steal a kiss or two in the shadows hiding from the reality. How he would woo you with his terrible French accent and you would answer him in your broken German.

You miss him. You miss him to the point where it physically hurt.

Sehun honks ever so caring about the people sleeping peacefully in their homes. He bursts into laughter at your jumpy reaction making you feel annoyed as you lock your phone. Settling yourself in his car you wait for his I told you so, but it never comes. Instead, he turns on his Spotify playlist clicking on Olivia Rodrigo’s good 4 u blasting it a such high volume all thoughts you had were overridden with the upbeat song.

Sehun had been your friend for the same amount Seokjin was. The two knew each other through a few short encounters, for some reason they never crossed paths for longer than ten minutes. For that you were thankful. The song comes to a finish and Sehun observes you from his seat. The lights of the city painted on the window illuminated your face, giving him a prefect view of your perplexed expression.

“How are you feeling?”

You knew he would ask this question, after all the sole reason you were driving on a highway was because of your damped mood but in whole honesty you didn’t know the answer.

“A part of me had expected it. He talked about marrying her, but he also talked about wanting to drop everything and own a cottage in Sweden.”

“Your taste in men is terrible. Remember Mark? The guy who had so many career goals but couldn’t leave his house because he thought having a life outside work was overly distracting for his oh so important career as IT support at ZARA? Or Mino who was so high you couldn’t recognise him when he dropped the weed after your breakup.” Sehun snorts.

You roll your eyes at him. Surely your boyfriend track wasn’t the best but it’s not like you seek out boys with issues, it seems that they attach themselves to you and you can’t get rid of them without a major heartbreak. “Whatever.”

Sehun stretches forward pulling your favourite chocolate bar out of the compartment, throwing it in your lap. You smile, munching on it as you switch the song to Zayn and Sia’s Dusk Till Dawn.

“I just expected him to inform me.”

Sehun shakes his head. “I am not sure why you expected that. You two haven’t shared one conversation in two months. You’ve asked for space when he told you he can’t choose between you and Jisoo. Plus, that was a dick move to be honest making him choose between his girlfriend and his best friend.”

“Space,” you emphasise,” not utter silence. He didn’t move two fucking blocks Sehun. He moved to a whole fucking country without telling a soul. Our mutual friend finds out through an Instagram story. Fucking Instagram. And I don’t care, he was a dick that started this charade might as well end it.”

By now you were fully shouting, the tears that threatened to spill before now rushing down your face. In this moment you didn’t care much about Sehun’s awkwardness regarding tears and crying, that was pushed aside when he backed Seokjin’s decision and pissed all over yours.

“Y/N,” he whispers, turning down the volume as you whimper, “there is not much you can do. You must respect his decision. You can’t force someone to love you.”

It was your turn to huff at the stupidity of his words. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t go about kissing people. Respect decision? Fuck that. Did he respect me when he made a fool out of me?

“No.”

Sehun exhales knowing that in this case you weren’t in the right mind to have a rational conversation. Seokjin was your weak point, he knew that much. Your emotions began to pour out, leaving you a sobbing mess in his car. 

“Look, I can’t stop you from having all sort of emotions for him. I can only advice you to turn off your phone for tonight and give yourself time to process the information before doing anything you might regret.”

 “I won’t blast his phone with insulting messages if that’s what you think.”

“Good, also don’t eat out your emotions. You can’t stand too much sugar in your system.” 

“Thanks doctor. I’ll just write out my emotions instead.” You say leaning into the seat, closing your eyes as you listen to the music.

“You still write on that blog?” You can hear some amazement in Sehun’s voice, and you know it’s not to mock you but to praise you for managing to stay faithful to one thing this long. You had a reputation for giving up on things in early stages because you couldn’t finish them perfectly.

The rest of the ride was spent with you eating out your emotions with the food Sehun bought from your local fast-food restaurant. Not much was said between you and him as he drove into the night letting you process the whole situation, only dropping you off at home when you felt yourself calming down.

Once in the confides of your room you strip yourself of any pent-up emotions letting all the pallet of different feelings overran you. Taking a pen, you let your heart pour into endless words scribbled away in your notebook. When you’ve felt empty the high gone, you take your laptop opening the site you’ve a long time member of. It came to you on Instagram in a form of a poorly done advertisement. It was a website for people wanting to share their poetry with strangers.

At first, you’ve done what you always do: began self-doubting your poems and their worth. Most of them were written in a spur of a moment when you felt like you would burst from the number of things you felt. But one night, when sleep couldn’t come to you and the pain of losing the person you held dear lingered in the air threatening to choke you; you signed in posting your work. It was raw and you suddenly felt exposed and naked in front of the world.

That’s how Meraki came to be. How your pseudonym became your shield, allowing you to burden it with any thought or emotion you’ve felt. In the online world Meraki was a fierce writer, letting her readers know of the pain and suffering she felt. In real world Meraki was an introverted person hiding herself from anyone willing to come close.

                                                   ____

 It was a hot Wednesday morning when you’ve gotten an e-mail from your sister informing you of her whereabouts. Due to your mother’s work preventing her from traveling, she decided to pay you a visit instead; much to your delight. The days to her wedding were numbered and so was your sanity.

Luckily for you she and her fiancée decided to stay with your parents.

The thought of her roaming the halls of the only place you’ve managed to cover in comfort was disturbing you. It wasn’t that you hated your sister but although you’ve dealt with your own insecurities some parts of the trauma still hung over you.

You’ve managed to avoid her for a good number of days since she landed in Seoul but now a week later you ran out of excuses. That’s how you found yourself sitting in a posh sea food restaurant, juggling your anxiety during the family dinner.

The last time you saw your whole family was at your grandfather’s birthday (which happened six months ago). The event left a bad taste in your mouth after you’ve spent majority of time listening to your sister’ success only receiving attention when she addressed you.

Solar and her fiancée Minho discussed the menu as they skimmed through different meals. You have been so busy staring at one spot that you’ve never noticed the waiter taking orders.

“Y/N?” Solar spoke catching your attention.

“One chicken fillet for me please.” You were so preoccupied with different thoughts you never saw what they had to offer therefore you went with your go-to food.

The moment the waiter leaves the table with the menus, your mother scoffs. “Aish you’re eating chicken again, we’re in an exclusive sea food restaurant and you’re embarrassing us.  “

“Mother, let her eat what she wants.” Solar interrupted your mother’s complaining, switching the topic to her wedding dress. Your mother beamed at the photos she showed her.

It was somehow sad how much power Solar had over your parents. One word was enough to ease them into doing whatever she liked whilst you had to beg and crawl your way and even then, you were no match for her.

You felt severely out of the place. The two talking about preparations while your father and Minho gushed over their new apartment in Tokyo. You sat there in your chair counting down minutes until you could leave. Any other day you wouldn’t bother to attend the dinner but now Solar insisted you showed up. Something about the sight of her family warming her heart, bunch of bullshit.

“How are you doing Y/N?” She asks ignoring your mother as she mumbles under her breath about your bad habits, one being smoking.

You took up smoking in your last year of university when the pressure of getting a master’s degree and balancing your parents had been too much to take in. A lot of your friends decided to find comfort in weed, but you never understood the thrill of it. Rather than spending enormous amounts for just one puff, you could buy a pack of cigarettes and still have money left for some booze.

“Not much, same old same old.” You answered pushing your nervousness away.

There wasn’t much happening in your life. You’ve started a job in a bookstore and spent your free time either with Sehun or Jihyo.

“How’s Seokjin?”

That one question had caught the table’s attention and suddenly you felt a terrible need to smoke one. Your families were acquainted through work, your fathers working together on a project. They had been shocked when they discovered that you and Seokjin had been close friends for a long time.

“He’s fine.”

“I heard he got engaged,” Your mother spoke up,” to Kim’s daughter Jisoo. Ah what a wonderful being that one is.”

“Oh?” Solar gave your mother a perplexed look narrowing her head at you. You played with the glass in front of you, the object suddenly becoming interesting.

“I thought you and he were dating.” Minho joined, telling the words that were stuck on the tip of your sister’s tongue.

“Y/N and Seokjin? Don’t make me laugh. They are worlds apart. Seokjin is so focused on his career while our Y/N thinks writing will make her a fortune.”

Taking a sip of water, you try your best to wash away the nasty words threatening to leave your mouth. Your parents never approved of your career choice not that you even cared about their opinion.

Solar hums pulling her lips into a straight line. “I’ve must’ve mistaken then. I was sure I saw you-“

“Here is your food.”

And that’s how you were saved from the embarrassment of having to explain to your sister that what she saw was imagination playing tricks on her and not you and Jin making out in front of your house. It was awkward enough when she pestered you about it the next day.

The conversation takes on a different dynamic and you breathe out in relief. You were still trying to process the news and talking about him wasn’t helping your soul.  You gather yourself before your façade could fall and mask it with a stoic expression continuing your countdown till desert when Sehun would call you for an “emergency”.

Right on time you think as your phone began to ring.

You pretend to gasp covering your mouth to show concern as Sehun sputtered nonsense. He kept talking about his trip to the gym and how his feet hurt from all the exercise he did while you tried not to show disgust as explained in detail how hit his little finger against a metal device . Solar shot you a worried look as you excused yourself from the table.

“And the award for the best actress goes out to Y/L Y/N” Sehun pitches once you close the door of the restaurant. Shooting a quick apology message to Solar, you jump into his car deJa’vu hitting you.

“I should get paid for spending so much time with you.” Sehun dripped in sweat, his black shirt sticking moistly to his body, hair pushed back.

You shrugged falling into a comfortable silence. Half an hour later he stops at the number 13, the windows of your house distinguishable by the large number of flowers catching last rays of Sun before the night settles.

“That will be 100 won and a Mcdonald’s later when you’re free.”

“Yeah, not happening” you tell Sehun, already halfway out of the car, rucksack slipping from your shoulder.

He raises a brow at you.” I am not your personal driver Y/N. I had to leave my girlfriend to drive you back.”

You scoff as you roll your eyes at him.” I’ve told you to call me for an emergency. There was no picking up included.”

He mimics your words mockingly before pressing the gas pedal leaving you behind him. Unlocking your apartment door, you’re greeted with your dog sleeping in the hallway not giving you a second glance as you pass over him. Haku’s snores echo through the empty apartment warming your heart. The Shiba became your companion two years ago when you were going through a rough patch. It took some time for you to get used to each other but now you couldn’t image not having his snot buried into your business.

Turning on the lights you sit at the kitchen table pulling your leg up to rest your head on the knee. Opening your laptop, you see a few notifications popping up on the sideline about your recent orders. Just when you were about to close the notification center you see one mail standing out. The name Jung Hoseok makes you jolt in your seat.

Dear writer aka meraki,

I hope this e-mail find you well. My name is Jung Hoseok, I’m the CEO of ZER Publishing company. I’ve taken interest in your poetry and would like to have a meeting to discuss a possible collaboration between us.

Kind regards,

Jung Hoseok

The scream that came from you couldn’t possibly be human. Closing the laptop as if it will burn you, you throw it on the sofa choosing to avoid it until tomorrow.

You didn’t know how he found you giving that any personal information on the site was strictly private. Pacing back and forward you facetimed Sehun. He picks up after three very long rings making your heart beat erratically against your chest.

“I swear to God if this is another one of your emergency calls.” Sehun stands there in nothing but a towel hugging his waist. He moves to the other side of the bathroom, bare feet pacing against the marble floor.

“I got an e-mail.”

He curses, his voice muffled from the towel pressed against his face. ” You called me to tell me about a mail?”

“Not any mail, Sehun. I was contacted by Jung Hoseok.” You whisper still walking back and forward, Haku following every step of yours. Sehun tries not to pay close attention to you, getting slowly dizzy from all the commotion.

“And something tells me I should know who that is?”

You halt taking a moment to stop yourself from starting a conversation about common knowledge again, it was a sour subject. “He messaged through the mail used for Meraki.”

This time Sehun is quite for a few seconds taking in your words. You don’t see him, but you can hear deodorant spray and shuffle of clothes. “How? Isn’t that private?”

“Yes.”

And suddenly the anxious feeling was back. The poems you wrote there were strictly private, the mention of your love life and your hardships with your family were never meant to be linked back to you. You’ve checked the websites policy not wanting anyone to associate you with the account. If that were to happen you can immediately start packing your things to move to another continent.

“I am sure he didn’t hack it; nobody is that desperate. Maybe he contacted the website owner?” Sehun takes his phone, hair freshly washed strands falling over his face. He moves from the bathroom to the kitchen placing you carefully , so you could see the whole room.

You think for a second, there was a possibility. “Isn’t that a violation of my privacy?”

“I can try to read out the rights and policy. Come up with a text signed as your lawyer but Y/N” Sehun’s voice is soft, something he did to calm you down. He stood in the middle of the kitchen, eyes having an internal battle, the look you’ve seen on him in rare moments.

“Yes?”

“I am sure if you refuse, he won’t bother you. I am also sure you don’t have much to lose if you agree.”

                                                         ____

Hoseok was on his fifth coffee by noon, deprived of any sleep last night.  He was starved for a good literature piece that would leave him in myriad emotions. Sadly, he came up with an empty line. He spent his days cocooned in the corner of Suho’s café reading page by page poetry that awoke no emotion except irritation. He was on the brink of losing his mind.

Suho slides into the booth, careful not to startle Hoseok.” Have you found anything?”

Hoseok ruffles his hair before resting his head in his hands. He was desperate enough to visit fanfiction sites in hopes of stumbling upon work that had  the spark.

“Maybe you should take a break? Visit those open mic nights where people recite their poems?”

Hoseok shakes his head having already used that option last week. “I’ve been to three mic nights and not one was interesting. I am on a verge leaving everything behind to become a stripper. Yoongi did say I have an amazing body."

Sehun by now used to his friend’s dramatic antics shrugs his shoulder.” You should really take a break. You’ve been searching for a month now.”

Hoseok wished he could take a break, but the existence of his firm lay in his hands. That enough gave him tremendous worry pushing him way above his limits.

“I know but if I don’t find a good piece in a month, I can close the firm. Do you know what that means? Hundreds of people losing their job.” Hoseok wasn’t the one to crumble under pressure but now he felt like crying. Suho offered him a smile he’s seen before, the pity smile. Patting his shoulder he gets up at the sound of doors opening ,customers swarming in.

At the end of the day Hoseok thinks everything has turned against him. His laptop dies in the middle of reading, and he discovers he forgot his charger at home. In all the despair and anger he accidentally knocks over the mug spilling coffee over important documents and his newly bought jeans. The stain will probably leave a small burn that he wasn’t ready to face today. He’ll take care of it tomorrow.

On the side Suho observes his restless friend. He felt bad for not being able to help him more, but he already used all his resources and sent them anonymously to his mail only for Hoseok to turn it down.

Sehun walks into the café with his gym in one hand and candy in the other, drops of sweat forming on his forehead. He was waiting for a call from Y/N, prepared to jump into his car at any second. He greets Suho, his sight landing on an exhausted Hoseok bumping his head repeatedly against the table lightly. He hoped to never reach this point of insanity. 

“What’s his problem?”

Suho follows Sehun’s line of sight. Hoseok sits in the booth, forehead rested against the table. Both his mind and body were tired, and the clock was ticking. “He needs to find a good poetry piece to publish otherwise he’s toast.”

In that moment Sehun weights his options. He knew how self-conscious you were about your work thinking it lacked emotion and quality and this seemed like a good opportunity to prove you otherwise. On the other hand, there was the issue with people closely linked with your poems. He takes his time picking between different sugars, steering the coffee slow enough to buy him at least one more minute.

Pushing the bills to Suho he takes a sip. “There is a website called Nora, it had lots of good poetry. I've read some.”

Suho nods following Sehun out of the café promising to deliver the message to Hoseok. Once locked up he slides back into the booth watching Hoseok pack his belongings ready to call it a day. “This costumer told me about Nora site. You should give a shot.”

“Nora?” Hoseok mocks, he heard of all the websites used for writing but Nora didn’t ring a bell.

“I think it’s new. I’ve never heard of it but he seemed sure of his words. The worst that can happen is he lied and knowing Sehun that’s unlikely.”

Hoseok nods eager to go back home to his cat Nobus and prepare himself a warm bath to release the tension built up in his muscles. Waving goodbye to Sehun, he exits the shop from the back door and turns on the engine of his car driving away to the beat of classical music easing him.

Entering his small apartment located in the centre of Seoul, he throws his shoes to the side not bothering for order tonight. Slouching himself on the couch he pets Nobus, the cat bumping his head against his arm purring softly. With eyelids half closed he opens the website on his phone, picking poetry as his preferred category.

Selecting a random writer he opens the first poem, eyes scanning the text.

 I love you             like the habit I picked up in college                  of sleeping through lectures                  or saying I’m sorry                  when I get stopped for speeding             because I drink a glass of water                  in the morning                  and chain-smoke cigarettes                  all through the day             because I take my coffee Black                  and my milk with chocolate             because you keep my feet warm                  though my life a mess I love you             because deep down I know                  you'll never be mine again   (author of the poem: Nikki Giovanni, I added three last sentences)*

With every word that Hoseok took in he felt himself back in university, all drunk on the idea of loving the girl that sat two seats in front of him during microeconomics. He relives the ecstasy of having love running through his veins, he feels the desire under his fingertips for just one touch, he crumbles at the pain of finding her kissing his best friend. Hoseok feels like his heart had been ripped apart with just few simple letters placed in a neat poem.

He sees the words meraki scribbled in a messy handwriting under the poem and he feels as if his prayers have been answered.

[sophlubbwriting]

Shifting to your arms - 03

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Summary: This is a slice-of-life series where you, the reader successfully shifted realities with the goal to spend time with Loki. Nothing too intense.

A/N: I didn’t have that much time to write this week, but I finally finished editing it (an hour to late, hope you don’t mind).

Feel free to shoot me a request and I'll see what I can do!

Taglist: @gingerspicetalks​ @adoreyou976​

Feedback is always appreciated!

Chapter Summary: A nightly meeting with the god of mischief and an intense discussion after a mission briefing where you finally come clean.

Chapter warnings: slight angst, spiders, Loki being Loki

Word count: 1871

One might think your muscles would get used to the way they are strained by the training with Loki, but your muscles decided to be sore and stay sore. Great way to be woken up.

The sun was nowhere to be seen yet, the dim light entering the window however was alluding to its already anticipated arrival.

Turning around in your bed again, your back felt like it was stabbed – which has woken you up and was almost, what had happened yesterday. The god of mischief figured it would be a great idea to show you, how to defend against an attacker who uses knifes and, of course, he never even considered using dummy-knives.

“I would never do so much as to wound you fatally, mortal.” he had assured you and oddly enough, you had believed him. You had to. Everything the god of lies told you sounded true, albeit might be caused by his velvety voice. Somehow, he had been picking up on the effects it had on you. Ever the observer.

As you struggled to stand up, you let out a heavy groan. For as much as you wanted to just sleep it off, you deemed sleeping as impossible. Not with muscles this stiff and not with how much you usually moved while asleep.

With every step you took your thighs stiffened. Stretching might seem like a good idea, but you already knew it would hurt like hell and quite frankly, you didn't have the energy to try it. You've heard somewhere, magnesium would help with sore muscles and as for now, you were more than eager to test your hypothesis.

Usually stuff like that is kept in the kitchen, right?

The oversized T-shirt you wore instead of a regular pyjama reached just above your knees, concealing not only your body shape but being unbelievably comfortable too. Who in their right mind would be awake in these ungodly early morning hours anyway? Changing clothes now was no use.

While the magnesium tablet was dissolving in a glass of water, you saw a box of cocoa powder just waiting on the top shelf above the stove. It towered there, tauntingly, staring down at you because it knew you weren't able to grab it.

A hot cocoa mix. That's what you needed  right now.

Determined, you took a step back and looked at the situation in front of you. There was one rather obvious solution to this:

Climbing.

Your legs were protesting, but you didn't care. You needed that cocoa. Maybe that's the tiredness speaking, but you couldn't live another moment without it. Hot chocolate.

You checked twice that the stove was both turned off and cold, so you wouldn't accidentally burn yourself if you happened to step on it and proceeded to swing a leg on the sideboard. Your shoulders were burning, but you didn't stop as you slowly pushed yourself up. You couldn't let the box win.

Once you managed to balance yourself out and fully straightened up, your eyes were barely below the surface, the box was prominently placed on, but that wasn't an issue. You, unlike the box, had hands, which you would put to use now. Reaching out, you snatched the box and inspected it. After reading all the nifty details from the back of the box, you wondered what the artwork on the front would look like, but you weren't able to look at it.

There was a huge spider, clinging to this side of the box.

Frightened you threw the box away from you and stepped backwards, only to lose your footing on the sideboard. Bracing for impact, you closed your eyes.

But nothing happened.

Confused you slowly opened your eyes back up. There he was, your deus ex machina. His face being mere inches away from your face, the god had hold you in a close embrace to stop you from falling. This in and of itself made it hard enough to keep your composure, but the following conversation only heightened the stakes.

There it was again. That damned voice.

“Oh my, are you falling for me?”

Together with his smirk, this was a deadly combo which short-circuited your brain.

Your thoughts raced faster than you could control them. I have been ever since I first saw you. You wanted to let him know, how you felt.

But you couldn't.

Instead, you opted for a cheeky grin and for the line “you wish”, although in all reality, you were the one wishing. This was torture, being this close to someone you wanted to be even closer with but not being able to be.

What if he would reject you? What if he wouldn't feel comfortable with you being around him any more? What if...

He carefully set you back down on the floor, almost as if he was afraid to break you if he were to drop you too harshly. You were still gazing into each others eyes, lost in the moment and although the spider should have scared you wide awake, this magical moment felt like a dream.

Being lost in his eyes, you stopped taking in anything else but Loki. You didn't notice how soft raindrops were clashing against the windows, you didn't notice how the sun was rising or how bright it had become.

And you most definitely did not notice, how the scary spider was dissolving into green mist.

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

After Tony had laid out your mission, you didn't quite know how to react. You were being sent on a real mission, together with the god of mischief. Just the two of you, only 48 hours left to prepare and your thoughts were racing.

Meanwhile, Loki looked unfazed by the mission, although he shot you a quick look. He knew you were capable of defending yourself and others, but attacking someone else was something different. Whenever you had tried to surprise him with an attack during your training, he had told you how you weren't ready just yet.

You had to think about possible excuses, not to go on this mission. Tell them the truth? You weren't sure how they would handle it. Would they call you an imposter? Imprison you? Besides, a literal god would be fighting right next to you. Everything would be okay.

“You seem rather nervous, my dear. Is everything alright?” The god of chaos averted your attention back to the conversation.

He spoke with the same nonchalant tone he used if someone different than you was within earshot, but if you weren't mistaken, there was a hint of concern hidden behind it this time. Before you could calm him down, the rich kid chimed in.

“Opposed to you, Reindeer Games, our sweet agent here has been on multiple missions similar to this already. It should be smooth sailing, even if you decide to turn on us and abandon both the mission and your partner.”

Oh no.

You saw over to Loki whose smirk was filled with amusement as he was declaring to Tony how he would never betray anyone in his life. He would soon realise something didn't add up. How could you have been on multiple infiltration missions without being able to fight?

At least you didn't have to make an effort and control your thoughts around him any more. Whenever there had been a small thought you weren't able to contain, he didn't seem to notice it, so why try to keep up a facade if no one would even realise it was there?

You left the room while Tony was still trying to threaten Loki out of betraying anyone. Your feet lead you to the gym where you planned on meeting the god of mischief once got bored of talking with Tony and you anticipated it to take five minutes, tops.

After spending some time beating up a punching bag, you heard someone walk in. You didn't have to turn around to know it was him.

“Explain yourself” the voice demanded harshly. He didn't even try to sugar-coat his words, he was disappointed. Probably hurt.

But you couldn't confront him with the truth, could you? You weren't ready, so you feigned innocence.

“What do you mean?”

It was no use. As you turned around and saw him standing there, visibly sad. He knew, although not everything. He knew you lied to him and that was enough to break both his and your hearts.

Loki didn't deserve this.

“You know exactly what I mean.” he looked like he barely kept himself from crying, but his voice was now steady and... cold? Now your heart felt like it was being shattered. “How have you done multiple missions, some of which were solo, despite being barely able to fight? What is the truth, mortal?”

Gone were the pleasantries you were used to, gone were the words 'darling' and 'my dear'.  Now you were just called 'mortal', one of many, easily exchangeable to him. You never thought words this small could hurt this bad.

“You wouldn't believe me.”

That was all you could mutter now, the only thought consuming your mind. He wouldn't believe me. The god of lies however insisted he would believe you, provided you told him the truth. This was your last chance to come clear and you both knew that.

“I-” you started insecurely, looking left and right in hopes of finding the right words to use somewhere in the room.

“I am not...”

Your eyes were slowly filling up with tears. This was harder than expected.

“I'm not... from here.”

In a poor attempt to hide your tears you looked down at the floor, but you were sure he saw them since one or two drops managed to fall from your eyes onto the floor.

“Neither do I”

This simple response made you chuckle, what in turn calmed your nerves. You looked up again and your eyes met his. Maybe he would understand.

“I mean... I am not from this reality.”

Silence. Loki didn't ask any questions, but you were sure he had plenty. Who wouldn't?

Fidgeting around with the seams of your shirt, you decided to elaborate a little bit more. “It is... kind of a long story which I feel like I couldn't explain properly, but I managed to shift realities so I can be here.” A heavy weight was dropped from your shoulders as you proceeded to tell him about how life was in your reality and, most importantly, how the Avengers are non-existent.

The last part caught Loki's attention and he thought for a few seconds about it. “So, am I just a mere work of fiction, too?”

You hesitated with your answer and he noticed. Of course he did.

“In... in my reality, yes, but in this reality you are very real.” You gave him an encouraging smile and he nodded understandingly.

“I think therefore I am. So, my dear, why did you... shift realities?”

His prying eyes saw right through you, it was almost as if he already knew the answer. He just wanted to hear you admit it.

“I did it so I could see you, Loki.”

[inky-duchess]

Things Writers can learn from Scream

The Scream Franchise though it does have its flaws is actually one of my favourite film sagas. Wes Craven's features have taught teenagers around the world how to avoid slaughter from a masked fiend but as writers what can we learn from the master of horror himself?

Being Meta

Meta is the termed coined for when a particular work takes an opportunity to comment on its genre. Scream is a whole film that spends its entire run poking fun at the horror genre itself. The characters lampshade clichés (Randy has this role over the main trilogy), insult their foils in similar works (Sidney roasting all other final girls as big breasted bimbos for example) and the whole work is unafraid to really poke fun at itself. The comments on the genre, characters and story itself are refreshing but meta references are like salt, too much spoils any dish. Though the concept of Scream is a meta commentary on the horror genre as a whole, the films know when to quit. There is no point beating the audience over the head with commentary. If your story is a journey, any meta reference is a treat of some McDonald's. If you as a writer, chooses to comment on the genre you're currently writing or want to make comment on real world issues, there is nobody stopping you but coose your battles.

Genre Rules

So Scream runs on a very simple formula. Each film follow a series of rules, lampshading that very horror film/ trilogy + reboot does indeed follow formulas. For example- Rules to succesfully survive a horror movie: Never have sex (virgins usually survive these situations). Never drink or do drugs. You will nearly always die if you say "I'll be right back", "Hello?" or "Who's there?". Sequels- The body count (or volume of action) is always bigger. The death scenes (plot points) are always much more elaborate. Never assume the Killer/villain is defeated. The final chapter of a trilogy- The Killer (antagonist) will be more difficult to defeat. Anyone can die (the stakes will go up). The past will bite you in the ass (the past will catch up with a character or prove to be the undoing of the antagonist). Remakes- Don't fuck with the original. As writers, we have to face the truth- all genres have rules and expectations. Don't clock yourself for being unoriginal if your WIP falls into a category. But that doesn't mean we are constrain. You have rules in the genre but that doesn't mean you can't bend them. Sidney has sex in the first film, Randy drinks at the party, Gale says "I'll be back", even Joel the camera guy lampshading that diverse characters don't often make it through to the climax. The audience expects them to die and they are spared, which is a refreshing turn of events.

Red Herring

Scream is also a whodunit at heart. Ghostface is a persona taken on by many antagonists over the four films. Most of the films keep up the suspense by teasing characters as the possible killer. Red herrings is a literary trick devised to mislead the audience and sometimes characters from deducing the truth too easily. In the first film, we are given more than our fair share of red herrings. The most masterful red herring is Billy Loomis. The film makes a hard go of planting the idea that he is the killer: a phone falls out of his pocket after Ghostface has chased Sidney around the house, a tendency appear when Ghostface has suddenly vanished from a crime scene, and acts so creepy, that the audience assumes he isn't actually the killer and the writers are trying to distract us. It all comes to a head when Ghostface stabs him during the final bloodbath right after Sidney plants one last seed of doubt in our heads. While Sidney runs around trying not to die, the audience and no doubt Sidney, feels bad for doubting Billy. But in a twist, he has faked his death and is one of two killers. Multiple characters over the franchise are used as red herrings: the overzealous blade happy Principal Himbry, Dewey who is nearly always absent when Ghostface calls, Derek who is a red Herring by default because we naturally suspect the boyfriend after Billy, Kincaid's knowledge of horror and his popping up odd times, Deputy Judy for her creepy behavior and knowledge of the prior crimes, Billy-Loomis-expy Trevor in Scream 4. Make the audience look left while you hit them from the right. 

Pov trick Shots

So I've spoken about how much I love multiple POVs and all the tricks you can play with them. And Scream 2 provides the best example. All throughout the film, reporters gather about our characters trying to get interviews. Gale and Cotton are both approached by Debbie Salt, a seemingly nondescript background character who is likely there to get killed for entertainment value. Then comes the climax and she strides into view carrying a gun. The audience and Fake don't understand at first but Sidney sure does and she would, as Debbie Salt is Mrs. Loomis. Sid could recognise Mrs Loomis despite her lost weight (Gale only clicks after the fact) but Sidney never meets Mrs Loomis until the end of the film.  Had she met her before or stumbled across her, the film would be over in seconds most likely.

Foreshadowing

Foreshadowing is when the events of a story are lampshades before they happen. Scream is one of the top works that does this well. On the topic of Mrs Loomis, she is foreshadowed so heavily that it almost is laughable when you rewatch it: Randy says that the killer could be somebody other than a white male citing Mrs Vorhees as his prime example (Mrs Loomis is the first Ghostface's mom), Randy is then rather savagely slain in a frenzied attack in broad daylight after badmouthing Billy and then she even foreshadows her own identity by claiming before other reporters that the new Ghostface could be from Woodsboro. In Scream 3, Randy's sister - who we didn't know existed- suddenly shows up with all the answers foreshadowing the reveal that Roman is Sidney's half brother and holds the answers to why all the killings happened. In Scream, Randy jokingly tells Stu that he'll see him in the kitchen with a knife after flaunting the 'I'll be right back' rule - and Stu ends up there, wielding a knife.

Characters

The thing with franchises like this, is that they often bring in new characters to surround the main character as they go through their travails. In the first Scream, Sidney has Tatum, Stu, Billy and Randy as friends. We see them interact with Sidney and other characters, they have personalities and their deaths actually impact us. Each of these characters shine on their own though Tatum is perhaps the flattest of the first group of friends but her rapport with Sidney and Dewey saves her and makes her death impactful. The background characters of Scream 2, we're introduced to Hallie, Derek and Mikey. Mikey did not have enough screen time for the audience to attach themselves to, he's merely as Randy puts it "the creepy film student". Hallie can only be seen around Sidney and does little except support Sidney. Derek does venture out of his supporting role, with having a goal (winning Sidney's trust), having a personality (his humour with his song) and being seen without Sidney (when the frat kidnap him). In Scream 4, almost every supporting character is ridiculously clichéd. You have the douchey guy (Trevor), the nerd (Robbie/Charlie), the edgy cool girl (Kirby), the pretty one (Olivia). The only one who makes any sort of impact is Kirby for showing us some personality and her death is actually hurtful. If you're going to introduce new characters to a story, they cannot be statuesque. They are people too. They need drive, personalities, lives outside the MC's life, goals of their own and should be seen acting as independent entities if they are to be taken seriously as characters.

[rouiyan]

𝘔𝘠 𝘗𝘜𝘊𝘒 𝘐𝘕 𝘠𝘖𝘜𝘙 𝘎𝘖𝘈𝘓 [ 𝘭.𝘥𝘩 ]

⧏ hyuck’s installment of the keep your cool collective ⧐

synopsis: you’ve decided that the boy in ‘66’ is yours.

✧ ice hockey player!hyuck x (fem.) reader x ice hockey player!jeno + best friend!renjun

✧ genres : fluff, minor angst ✧ word count : 2.3k ✧ disclaimer : swearing

✧ author’s note — finally my brain had the gall to pull through with this idea but i'm left with the realization that all my hyuck fics are just him simping for u.

hyuck internally sighs, his head ringing and ankles sore, as the buzzer goes off, signaling the end of the third round. he’s almost elated, even though he’s sure his team hasn’t won, by just the fact that the game is over. hyuck is by no means sick of ice hockey but lately, the mere idea of it drives him into exhaustion. as he turns to expect the disappointed stare of his coach, he’s surprised when he’s met with a halfhearted smirk. weird, the coach should know more than anyone how lazily this game had played out. but then, as an afterthought, he checks the scoreboard and realizes with an oh shit, that they were tied with the opposing team, somehow.

his line of vision is parting from the board when he makes unfortunate eye contact with the person entering the rink. your hair is pulled back with a pale pink scrunchie and your outfit is a certified mess of oversized hoodie and sweat shorts upon white sneakers. he can quite literally feel the heat that is quick to rush to his cheeks, unfailing to hide his flustered state. he knows he looks stupid but he still can't help but stare and ogle at new and blatant eye candy as she crosses the threshold into the cold space. half your figure is  now covered by the wall that separates the stands with the rink though it doesn't matter because he's still equally enamoured by simply your presence. 

"hyuck, why you staring at y/n?"

hyuck can only wince inwardly as he stutters out, "that's- that's y/n?" it seems unfair that renjun's been hoarding such a pretty specimen to himself. "like your best friend, y/n?"

"yeah, what about her?"

"br-bro, you never mentioned that she was pretty."

"hey, don't even think about it. you're the last possible person i'd set her up with. plus, she's with jeno, they went on a date after practice last time, remember?"

there's an underlying disappointment in donghyuck's tone when he's only able to produce a soft, "oh," because frankly he doesn't know why he's so worked up over someone who he's never even met and that's also dating one of his close teammates. amidst his confused trance, he almost fails to notice his coach call for a pre-game huddle.

he ends up tuning out most of it, now distracted by how jeno keeps glancing back at you and making funny faces, you returning them with the! cutest! little expressions he has ever had the pleasure to lay his eyes upon. the rest of the game is played out with enthusiasm on his part, even going so far as scoring in two more points. he's quick to doubt the truth but donghyuck knows that it's whoever that girl is in the front seats that's making him outdo himself.

the game ends and his team wins, claps and cheers at how the game had turned around in their favor, but donghyuck reverts into a sulky demeanor as soon as he's off the rink and into the locker rooms. he notices jeno, being quick and almost feisty with the other boys that are taking too long for his liking in hogging the showers. donghyuck assumes it has something to do with the (gorgeous, wtf) girl that's waiting on him for a date. hardly fair, he thinks, if only he'd met you earlier by chance, he knows he'd definitely have the ability to charm you out of your wits. after all, he's smart, his face is undeniably agreeable, his sense of humor is top notch, and well, what's not to like?

instead of getting closer to you as he so hoped he would, he ends up becoming more familiar with the routine disappointment, and yet delight, at seeing you show up after practices, games, and eventually, team gatherings outside the rink. he's okay with it, he thinks. but it becomes frequent, even, that you show up out of the blue, with the invitation from jeno, and he's starting to lose his cool when it comes to the simplest of interactions. being included in a conversation with you was no problem, as long as he wasn't talking. eye contact? bearable, but not for more than half a second. and the utmost unfortunate luck for the boy if you ever asked him to pass you a fork, or a spoon, or a goddamned napkin. 

he's not so sure anymore, one sullen night, that he could ever make you his, even if he was gifted the chance. when you're not by jeno's side, you're by renjun's, and if that isn't telling enough about how uncomfy you feel around everyone else, he wouldn't know any better. but even laying within the deepest, darkest parts of night, the screen on his phone displaying your more recent instagram post of you on jeno's back, a sun setting beach painted behind the two of you, he finds his heart yearning to know more about you. he knows you're not one to reach out, to make friends unless in a situation that calls for it, so he supposes now is as good as a time as any to shoot his shot, at being friends.

he braves himself for this hefty task. his breaths are ragged and his heart is already hammering a deep crater inside his chest at just the thought of following through with his plan. his fingers are shaking and his pupils are twitting at about the same pace and it appears that none of his bodily functions seem to be within his control anymore. but before he can press the button, his door is thunked wide open with a hard force, the handle even going so far as to lodge itself neatly into the wall that's now been broken through. donghyuck's mouth is hanging ajar but he's barely surprised to see that the culprit of such heinous and costly action is jeno. lee jeno. 

donghyuck makes swift and subtle actions to shove his phone underneath his pillow but when he takes a good look at the boy's face, he realizes that he didn't need to be so discrete in the first place. jeno's eyes are swollen, and not in the way that suggests he got into a big manly manly fight and came out the victor, but in the way that looks as if his three cats died, all at once, and he'd taken it upon himself to cry for each of their mothers respectively. 

the same eyes rove about the room before settling on the bed, his body following suit but moving as if it were part of another entity entirely. the mattress sinks down low with his body weight and he repositions himself so that he's laying down comfortably, his legs still hung over and down the side. donghyuck can hear jeno's ragged breaths, not unlike his own a minute ago, and he wonders what hell of a day the boy had had to render him into this state of numbed consciousness. but before he can even form the question that sits at the edge of his mind, jeno's voice reverberates lowly in the silence of the room.

"she broke up with me," donghyuck blinks purposefully, "something 'bout how she thinks she might like someone else, fucking bastard."

"is she the bastard?" donghyuck tries to disassociate his feelings from his words and come across as...helpful in lifting his friend's mood.

jeno chuckles, "no, hyuck, she's not the bastard. bastard's the guy who has her heart. i'm glad she told me though, she's never been one to hide things."

"yeah, would've been worse if she dragged it on, huh."

"yeah, a lot worse."

donghyuck's voice almost gets caught within the confines of his rationality, "did she tell you who he- the bastard is?" he sighs inwardly, knowing that this was none of his business whatsoever, but the desire to know seeps into his thoughts. 

jeno sighs as well, "no, not really. she said it was some boy on the team though, might even be you now that i think about it."

"oh," is, yet again, the only thing he is able to produce. 

the new revelations seem to give life to donghyuck. the mere idea that there's a possibility of interest in his direction is something that he thrives off of. mundane tasks like washing the dishes are now enjoyable hobbies, no actual brain work, head empty, thoughts of you exclusively. when it comes to practice, you're no longer there, your presence reduced to hushed talk between the boys and renjun, asking him if you really are the reason jeno's been so out of it, letting easy pucks into the goal left and right. hyuck is relieved, though, that he gets a break, a step back to rethink his crazed emotions. maybe it really was just simple infatuation. maybe it was just because he hadn't gotten laid in awhile. or even just the fact that he's been hanging out with the boys too much and that the first girl he set his eyes on in days ultimately became the protagonist to his daydreams. hell, he is especially glad that you decided it wasn't worth showing your face at the rink for the time being for jeno would've been downright devastated.

that whole paragraph of feelings is bluntly disregarded and thrown off track as he enters the corner cafe a few blocks down from his house and is met with you waving your hand excitedly at him and motioning for him to sit with you. he doesn't hesitate, of course, but makes sure he takes slow and deliberate steps to the window booth you're sitting at just to make sure he at least gets in four deep breaths before he is inevitably subjected to not breathing in your presence.

"hyuck, it's been awhile, i hope this doesn't make you uncomfortable or anything," your face morphs into an expression of realization as it hits you that calling him over was entirely to satisfy your own hopes and dreams. the boy sitting across from you, smiling lightly, might as well be feigning a pleasant disposition, grossed out by the girl that dumped his friend just because she thought she was interested in someone else. by the end of this thought, your voice is reduced to a timid pitch, "you can leave if you want, it's all good."

"actually, i think that it'd be more uncomfortable for you if i left." he feels his heart constrict at the sight and the knowledge that his words enlightened your composure. you take it upon yourself to start some light conversation, not wanting to disclose the reason you'd called him over in the first place just yet. your heart picks up pace, rivaling hyuck's own, and you can't help but think of the sheer likeliness of the luck you'd just encountered. just as you decided to brave up for once and not take advantage of your best friend setting you up on one too many blind dates that were just, too artificial for you, the boy whom you had taken a liking for had shown up before your eyes, breezing through those glass doors as if it were a sign for you to just take charge. 

"and i was telling him-"

"are you free friday?"

"what? oh, what?!"

"i'm asking if you're free friday."

"i- i mean yeah, i have practice at three, but i'm free afterwards."

"let's grab dinner together then."

"oh shoot, okay, like with the boys? 'cause i could ask them if they're down."

"no, i was hoping it could be just us. like a date."

"so, hold the fuck up, you're asking me out on a date?"

"yeah, why…? am i not allowed to do that? is going out on a date with me gonna break bro code or something?"

"n- no, nothing like that. it's just...you can't possibly be serious."

"oh, trust me, i'm dead serious."

"...holy shit, i'm in."

donghyuck fucks up big time at practice, his cheeks are way too hot and he's sweating gallons per second. his jaw is clenching and unclenching in hopes that the action might make him a little more attentive while on ice but instead, he finds his eyes roving over to your figure in the stands far more often than he'd like to admit. he thinks, no he hopes, that jeno is okay with the fact that you're not here for him but rather the 'boy on the team' he'd unknowingly referred to a few months back. hyuck knows, though, that renjun is definitely not okay with it, the aforementioned boy throwing just as many glares at hyuck as hyuck's many glances towards you.

practice is over long after he hoped it would be but you're patient and supportive nonetheless. his eyes crinkle and his smile widens as you sidle into him for warmth in the cool air of the ice rink. hyuck solves this by removing the hoodie from his own, accustomed body, and gently tugs it over your shivering one. he thinks he handles the wave of adoration that consumes him pretty well, even able to ease the corners of his lips down a tad bit. "you're cute," you pull at his cheeks and suddenly things are not so easy to handle. 

donghyuck does eventually get used to all the sneaky shit you pull just to get his ears red and shy smile blossoming, but he knows he'll never get used to the sight of you in the stands, adorning his spare 66 jersey with everything else fading, and fading further away until it's just you and him, and him and you.

copyright © 2020 rouiyan all rights reserved.

✧ end note — i hope you find someone that holds you in such high esteem as hyuck does in this fic, i'm sure you deserve it <3

[ruby-whistler]

Srry but i noticed in one of ur dream posts u Referred to tommy's cat as hope. I must correct u, that cat was born pussbou and died pussboi. /lh Also tommy killing that cat was nothing compared to dream killing mushroom henry in exile btw just wanna say Also for ur posts about dreams trauma or wilbur manipulating him can u provide links to vods or other proof? Srry if i seem rude i mean that in a "genuinely curious way"

Aaa sorry if my ask came off as rude im just genuinely curious :(((

hi! dw, you don't seem rude at all, and i'm extremely happy someone with a different perspective has found my blog! i really appreciate that sort of attitude and am happy to answer :]

/dsmp /rp

the cat was called pussboy by tommy, but dream only called it "the cat" and then said that "it was hope", which is why it sort of became a symbol (his hope is dead, basically) - that's why i kind of made its name capitalized, because it was more of a metaphor than anything.

most c!dream fans call the cat hope because it's just really nice and really symbolic, and also really sad when you think about it. that's why the name was used in the essay, just to clear up the confusion!

tommy killing that cat was nothing compared to dream killing mushroom henry in exile

i don't really think so? mooshroom henry was entertainment more than anything, and even if it was bad, when watching the stream i don't remember seeing him mourn that much - on the other hand, dream was very quickly and very obviously attached to the cat, with it being his only companion in months of isolation, along with the hope that even when tommy left it would keep him company.

keep in mind c!dream has been deprived of stimuli and human contact for so long it's officially classified as psychological torture at that point.

i don't mean to compare trauma or even compare deaths - because honestly, what c!dream and c!tommy have gone through individually is incomparable and i think neither should be diminished in favor of the other since they're both terrible situations.

that's why i disagree that it "was nothing compared to" - it had an obvious effect on c!dream, and was still c!tommy killing an animal specifically to hurt him, no matter what reasons he had.

when i'm talking about effects people's actions have had on c!dream, i'm not talking about those people. i'm talking about him. :) /lh

as for the trauma, a lot of people agree that a lot of the things he says or does are trauma responses, and hence it's very possible that he's had trauma before he went into prison!

this includes being repeatedly called a tyrant via propaganda by about half of your friends who decided to betray you, trying to keep peace and being pushed deeper into villainy instead, repeatedly being put in between a rock and a hard place in order to make sure the people you care about don't start killing each other, then being betrayed by your closest friends after merely trying to keep peace (sapnap & george) and just in general having no control over your life or image and grasping at straws to gain it back.

i know a lot of people with trauma who heavily relate to certain trauma responses, which aren't always just shaky breaths and flashbacks, but trauma often also manifests itself in extremely ugly and destructive ways, both inwardly and outwardly.

trying to control the people around you is also very often a response to going through trauma, as well as emotional repression which is... rather evident on c!dream during season two. it only seems to get worse with repeated abandonment.

in the end, during the vault scene, the way he acts really just isn't at all the way a healthy person would act, and a lot of his really bad mindsets come from the way he was taught by the world around him.

the character is very reserved however, and since we don't have his pov we can't really say for certain - a lot of people claim it in good faith because they have a lot of evidence for it, and i think they're certainly valid in that.

that is just before the prison, however. from what happened during the prison arc? there is no denying he's traumatized at this point.

he's been emotionally and physically abused by c!sam since the very beginning of being imprisoned, and being in solitary confinement for over two weeks is generally considered psychological (and maybe also physical?) torture. that alone shows up in a lot of symptoms of his mental deterioration while in pandora's during people's visits, and quackity's "sessions" just absolutely drove the point home.

what he's gone through during this arc is absolutely incomparable to anything others charactes have faced before, and it's just plain suffering being endured by someone who is, despite everything, still a human being.

as for the wilbur manipulation thing!! it's talking about the whole vassal scene (though even beforehand a lot of their interactions are pretty iffy), and here's a post about that :]

I also have a small question about the analysis u last reblogged cus it says "why dream needed lmanburg gone rightfully" and like. The house analogy is poor because for one cus the land is infinite. And 2 cus punz's yard was literally larger then lmanburg. And also stuff about dream being a mediator? Can u provide examples?

i wouldn't say it was poor. dream's said a lot of times that he didn't care in the slightest about the land - a lot of his problems with l'manberg arose with the fact that wilbur basically built it on lies and tried to disallow half of the server to come there. c!dream was mad about the division and the fact that wilbur wanted "freedom" to have authority in his lands - over others, as can be seen in this post also.

the table analogy was fitting not because dream was some overlord, but because these were literally friends he invited to hang out and live in a place he wanted to call home. claiming a part of it for yourself and saying people of a certain nationality can't come in is directly opposing those goals.

in the early days of the smp, dream's always been a mediator between his friends - sapnap and george, who would often get into fights and go around killing each other! he would always do his best to stop the conflict, which continued after tommy joined when he took him to court and then later tried to mediate conflicts he was a part of, which resulted in tommy killing him unprovoked, stealing his gear, and starting the disc wars when dream was trying to get his stuff back. later, during pogtopia, he is also most concerned with peace over everything, and this seems to continue indefinitely after.

Today i was thinking about how messed up the final control room was. Like. Dream arranged the betrayal and punz and sapnap killed tommy and tubbo who like. Were literal children and their pals (because the author, wilbur soot, is dead/j but srsly if u take the streamers words tommy said he was 9 during the revolution sooo)

Sorry im gonna ramble about how dumb canon ages are for a second cus like. Streamers can say the characters are one way or another (wilbur saying he is mentally 30-something, etc.) But in the end the characters act like they(or at least their streaming personas) do.

i... honestly don't find it that bad? they were in a war, and the final control room was basically just supposed to end it quicker. the l'manbergians made it clear they were going to fight to the death, so they really left c!dream no other choice. and it's not like he didn't give them chances to give up.

also yeah the 9 year old thing was retconned, because in that case c!dream would've been 14 and i don't think that's true.

c!tommy and c!dream were both young and once again, in a war. the final control room was an attempt to assure victory, which both sides would've taken if possible, but only c!dream saw he had the option.

i do agree the whole child soldier thing was bad but... complain about that to c!wilbur, methinks. he talked naive kids into fighting for his personal power. however, the age argument isn't really valid either way. they had enough agency to sign up for it, and whether or not c!wilbur pushing the intense nationalism onto them had something to do with that is another debate entirely.

Bacl to final control room cus like??? Also fun fact punz took 2 of wilbur's canon lives. And like that probably is what started wilbur's paranoia which later lead to his spiral and i. Many thoughts full of lmanburg today.

i'm pretty sure cc!wilbur said what lead to c!wilbur's spiral was a "dark, twister view of possessions" and "disregard for his fellow citizen whom he claimed to love so much", but i really wouldn't say it was the control room; if anything the sudden loss of power after the elections seems to me like the trigger for his spiral.

I watched the exile arc live and. I feel dirty almost for feeling little to no sympathy for c!dream (srry ive been forgetting to add that aa) because of his actions toward c!tommy and like. The whole probation was so humiliating and unfair and c!dream was planning to frame him for the crimes he and puffy did under the the guise of "pranks" and c!quackity was planning to seize the vice president role.

i mean... to be fair, if you didn't watch the prison arc much yet or only watch tommy's perspective i understand not feeling that sympathetic - however, i encourage you to maybe watch a few prison visits, since they could help you see the whole picture better!

i also watched it live, and i also thought it was terrible, but i share very much the same sentiment for the prison arc because. absolutely no one should have to go through either of those things, you know?

i don't think probation was that humiliating? he was just. being asked to not start conflict with the other factions for two weeks. of course, what happened as a result is in no way justified, but i don't think probation itself would've been bad at all. either way yeah the framing and c!quackity's behaviour was. very yikes, i agree.

Also c!tommy antis are dumb because they say "he deserved exile angry emoji" i dont see u saying that about ranboo. Just say you hate cc!tommy and go. Also people say c!tommy was just as toxic to c!dream and i??? No. One is the victim and one is the abuser and like. :/// man. This part is rambly srry

i wouldn't say they hate cc!tommy? cc!tommy has a persona who people think is annoying at first ( but then they subscribe because he is super entertaining big man! ) but a lot of c!tommy's actions are straight up toxic to certain characters, such as c!funndy and c!jack. he has a very dismissive attitude towards others and their trauma and it does affect the people around them very negatively.

examples; his repeated bullying and behavior towards fundy:

Tommy: “Fundy, I’m just here to kinda let you know that I – if you weren’t Wilbur’s son, you would be out of L’manburg, alright? Just remember – you need to keep that relationship with your father. I saw how asshole-y and bratty you were acting in the courtroom the other night. You need to pull your shit together young man.”

......

Fundy: “I’m wearing glasses…are you making fun of my eyesight?!”

Tommy: “Yes.”

Sapnap: “Your father would be very disappointed.”

Fundy: “Wh – disappointed for wearing glasses?!”

Tommy: “You got glasses, like what are you wearing…”

Fundy: “What do you mean?”

Tommy: “Sapnap, Sapnap, over here. Fundy, Fundy, Fundy, I’m really sorry to say this – I’m just here to publicly denounce you.”

Fundy: “…What?”

( credit for transcript: @/findingjoynweirdstuff )

he's also responsible for a big chunk of c!jack's trauma, both with actions and words, and that's why i think certain people might dislike the character, and i don't think that's wrong of them. anyone can dislike any character they want if they don't attack people for liking them, in my opinion.

also c!tommy was most definitely toxic against c!dream in the cell. it's of course understandable but that doesn't change the fact he was constantly hitting and insulting him (without dream doing anything back for a long while until he snapped) which is toxic behaviour.

i wouldn't say he was "just as" though, so i agree with you on that. they're different and they behave differently.

i made a dream blob keychain today. Is it possible to send images if u wanna see? Idk cus i havent used tumblr before. I think that's all for now. Thx for letting me talk :D peepoShy -curious anon (but fr a connoreatspants c!dream redemption arc would be cool)

yooo that's cool! i don't really,,, know if it's possible to send images? try it out and if it isn't i'll try find a way to turn it on.

also, no problem! just please remember this is a c!dream sympathetic blog, and me as well as my followers are uhh,, oftentimes emotionally attached / personally relate to the character, so if you could avoid sending hate on the character (not that you have or that i expect you to, just a friendly reminder) in the asks that would be great! we already see a lot of it unwillingly so, i'd rather not see more, but as long as the discussion is civil i'm absolutely ok with you asking more and with me answering more questions if you'd want to! :)

if anyone else would like to reblog this and add some things i might've missed with my answers, feel free to, just go easy on her (she uses she/her pronouns!) and keep it factual.

i hope u had a good or at least ok time at school today :D

thanks! i gtg now because exam tomorrow but i'm going to try write the redemption essay tomorrow as well because ohhh boy i have a lot of ideas about what all i could write around the concept.

also sorry this was long, i can't keep my tongue on the leash :[

[rachelbethhines]

Tangled Salt Marathon - Who’s Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf

Ok, so I’ve tried and tried several times to get this posted, we’ll see if this is the time it goes through. Half the reason why this review series has slowed down is not just the multitude of real life stuff I have to deal with, but also Tumblr just refusing to work with me and deleting my posts. I also can’t save my work else where due to Tumblr messing up the formatting. It’s been a frustrating mess and so far no one @staff​ has come up with a tech solution or work around. 

Summary: Rapunzel helps to rebuild Old Corona, (after its near destruction from the Black Rocks) which will become the permanent home of Red and Angry, who have returned to Corona to settle down. However, she begins to notice strange footprints around the area, as well as the livestock becoming more unruly and fearful. The group comes across a monster hunter named Creighton, who explains to the group that the area is being stalked by a werewolf, who possessed one of Corona's citizens. Aiming to save this person rather than kill them, Rapunzel sets out to find who it is. 

When Was This Decided?

No seriously, when was this decided? It’s a pretty big leap go from ‘the rocks makes various towns inhabitable’ to ‘let’s rebuild!’ What’s changed here? Cause the rocks haven’t been removed and Rapunzel failed in her mission to nullify their power. In fact the rocks were not only reawaken in the second season finale but shown to be under the power of someone who’s intentions were made unclear to the heroes.

So I ask again; who thought this was safe thing to do now? What provisions have been made to accommodate the rocks? They blocked the well, remember, and destroyed the fields; how are the people getting food and water? 

And most importantly why wasn’t the audience informed beforehand? When you change up the status quo in a story you need to provide just cause to the viewers. I legit thought I had accidently skipped an episode when I first watched because this plot point was not set up properly.  

Why Were They Ever Left Alone to Begin With?

In a story where neglect is a central theme and motivating factor for all the main characters, it is super tone deaf to have those same characters perpetuating neglect themselves. The decision to live on their own should not be left up to Angry and Red because they are children. Children are not mature enough to provide for themselves neither emotionally nor physically and when placed in situations where they have to do so it psychologically damages them. Which the series already showcased with Varian so why is this suddenly deemed ok? 

This Completely Undermines the Past Two Seasons

The entire conflict of the past two seasons was the rocks forcing people out of their homes. Eugene was made an orphan from them, Varian lost his entire support group because them, they drove out the Saporians from their encampment which prompted them to invade Corona, and Rapunzel and company spent an entire year on the road trying to find a way to stop them from spreading supposedly. 

All of that has now been flushed down the drain with this decision. And its super insulting to watch because it’s the writers telling us that we’ve wasted our time caring about this plot for two years. You don’t resolve major conflicts off screen and without explanation; it’s lazy!  

Also Where Is Varian and Quirin During All This?

This is not only their home and legal charge, but it’s also the ending to their ongoing story, and they’re not even here in a silent cameo. 

Wouldn’t Quirin be overseeing the rebuilding of his town? Wouldn’t Varian be using his skills to find workable engineering solutions for them, fulling his season one goal of saving his home and making his village better with his inventions? Also wouldn’t Edmund want to catch up with his brother and help out now that he’s here? 

In fact not a single person who actually lives in Old Corona is to be found in these opening shots. 

Oh, But We Do Get Earl

Earl might be from Old Corona, or he might not be. We’ve literally never seen him before. The artists had to create a brand new character model for this character, the writers had to write new lines for him, and the casting director had to hire an actor and have him record these lines for only less than a minute of screen time, never to be seen again. Even though they legit had shepherd models already to go from season one that they could have used. It’s a waste of resources and a prime example of the mismanagement going on in this show. 

It’s Too Late In the Series to Waste Time On a New One Off Villain

Speaking of a waste, Creighton might have more story reasons to appear in this episode than Earl does but her inclusion is still a poor decision. The show already has an overabundance of villains, so many in fact that they shipped the bulk of them off in season two, and this is the final season; the season where we should be wrapping up plots and minor characters stories not kicking off new ones.

Taken on her own Creighton isn’t a bad character presa, she works for the episode, but when we could have gotten a resolution to Caine’s, Hector’s, or the Disciples’ story arcs instead it highlights how misused the series assets are. 

All This Lore Will Be Forgotten In Just a Few Episodes Time

We finally get like some magical rules and backstory only for future episodes to ignore it from here on afterwards. Red can turn into a werewolf whenever she pleases, night or day, with little explanation as for why.  

Just Arrest Her Rapunzel

You’re the acting queen. You have the power and the right to arrest or even merely detain someone who is threating your citizens and refuses to leave. In fact it’s kind of your job. You don't even have to throw her in a dungeon if you thought that too cruel. Just lock her up in a nice room somewhere in the castle until you’ve sorted out the mess yourself. 

The series wants to treat Rapunzel as the underdog when she isn’t, and her failure to wield her power effectively doesn’t make her look ‘nice’ it just makes her look stupid and grossly incompetent. This is a conflict that didn’t need to have happened and Rapunzel let it happen.  

Oh, So Now Y'all Riot

You didn’t complain when the king orphaned children with his crack down on crime. You rolled over as he dolled out overly harsh punishments to poor people who committed minor offences. You gleefully went along with the royals as they  scapegoated a child for their mistakes, even as they endangered your homes.  And ya’ll sat on your asses while invaders pulled off a coup and enslaved you. 

But this is what you get mad over? A rumor about a mythical creature existing that your princess has zero control over. Seriously? 

Man, I hate the townspeople in this show. 

Pointless Dream Sequence Is Pointless

This scene tells the audience nothing new and just wastes screen time. 

This Is the Wrong Lesson to Focus On Rapunzel

We do not tell the 12 year old to unload their phycological issues onto their baby sister!

You’re telling me parents were involved in writing this show? What the hell!?

Rapunzel you are the adult here. At 20 now you should be more adept to handle listening to the deep seated emotional traumas of a little girl than a fucking 10 year old! And if you’re not, or don’t want to, then it’s your job to find another adult who will. 

That’s the core problem with this entire episode. It treats Red’s and Angry’s problems as some eternal issue that they need to work out and not as the inherent failure of the adults around them that it is. 

It is neither Red’s nor Angry’s decision on weather or not they get live on their own. Nor is it their responsibility to be each other’s therapist. Yes, a change in living arrangements is always stressful and for children with abandonment issues it can be hard to readjust, but that’s when you need to step it up and deal with the problem; not shove it off onto the kids themselves! 

Monty Is Useless

Is this all Monty is good for? Being a red herring in ridiculously simple mysteries? Is this why we wasted a whole episode introducing him back in season one? Really?

Why Are We Still Treating Old Corona As Being Separate from Corona Itself?

Look, I get that it’s a joke, but it’s a joke that highlights how poorly thought out the worldbuilding is in the series. Is the Coronan government in charge of Old Corona or not? If so then you can just make those lease laws yourself as the acting regent Eugene. If not then Frederic shouldn’t have had any say in the matter of relocating Old Corona’s citizens nor putting a child outside of his jurisdiction under arrest.

But more importantly this is a just a repeat of that vague level of responsibility Rapunzel has for people who live off the island. She can’t order a whole village to be rebuilt while simultaneously claiming that she bares no accountability for Varian and Quirin’s problems in season one. 

Replacing Guns with Crossbows Isn’t the Safe Option That the Censors Think It Is

I find it kind of amusing that censors will ban showing a 17th century blunderbuss but allow it to be replaced by a weapon that is still mass produced today and can be bought in any Walmart across the country. Like I’m a major advocate for gun regulation in real life, but even I have to find this to be a bit silly. Crossbows aren’t some fantasy weapon. People still own and use them. But it would be seriously hard to get ahold of a working antique firearm.  

Seriously This Is How the Girls Have Been Living and the Adults Haven’t Done Anything About It Until Now?

I feel like I’m beating a dead horse by now, but it’s so engrained into the episode I have to keep bringing it up. The show itself is visually telling us that Red and Angry can’t keep living this way, but it never wants to call Rapunzel and the other adults out for not rescuing them from this life sooner. 

So All This Tells Me Is That Rapunzel Could Have Easily Checked Up On Varian In Painter’s Block, But Didn’t.

Remember they’re right next to Old Corona; meaning that Janus Point is also right next to Old Corona. Meaning that Rapunzel could easily have checked up on Varian right after Painter’s Block and choose not to. With each passing episode Rapunzel has less and less excuse for her behavior in season one. 

Yeah Remember that Plot Point That Wound Up Being Entirely Irrelevant to the Story?

In jokes don’t cover your ass when you make poor writing choices. Quite the opposite in fact as all you’ve done is remind the audience of all the various dangling plot threads that you will fail to follow up on. The disciples plot goes no where and serves no purpose, and it should not have been introduced as this big important thing if you weren’t going to do anything with it. 

Nice Idea, Poor Execution

I’ve heard fans of this episode tell me that they enjoy it because of this scene with Red. If you’re a naturally introverted person or neurodivergent and have trouble communicating at times then Red’s speech here can strike a cord. Which is cool; I’ll never deny someone’s feelings and if a piece of media speaks to you on a personal level for whatever reason that is great. What I’m here to discuss though is story structure and whether or not the story’s themes are presented well in context of what it’s set up. 

The conflict here does not work from a pure structural standpoint because it’s a surface level deflection of the real issues. Red’s problem isn’t that she is being ignored, it's that she’s been abandoned. Now communication issues can arise from that abandonment and feeling heard can be step forward in working those issues out, but Red’s central trauma isn’t going to be magically fixed by people ‘listening’ to her, i.e. being granted whatever she wants, but by providing her with a real home and with a real guardian to look after her. 

Because what Red wants on a surface level is harmful to her, and the reasons why she wants what she wants needs to be addressed more so than then sedating her angry outbursts in the moment. This is treating the symptoms not the cause.

So What Is or Isn’t Real About the Curse?

Once again, we finally get some actual lore and rules for magic and the writers are already throwing it away during the same episode they are introduced. I now have as little context for how the wolf curse works within the Tangled world as I did before the episode started. 

This Is Sweet, But Once Again Context Brings It Down.

So just to reiterate, this a surface level resolution to the conflict of the episode that doesn’t actually address anything. It might feel like an appropriate ending but only if you ignore the fact that Red and Angry are orphans who’ve been abandoned but the adults. 

Angry apologizing here to Red does not solve any of their problems, especially since Angry, as a child herself, is not responsible for her sister’s behavior, feelings, nor well being. That falls to the adults and they fail to address Red’s core issues and their own failings to her in their apologies as well. Not to mention that the very next scene undermines any optional progress that could have been made here. 

Listening to Someone Does Not Mean Giving Them Whatever They Want

This does not fix anything. Red and Angry are still left to live on their own without any real supervision. Giving them a big play house is not providing for them, it’s spoiling them. Would you let all the other orphans in the local orphanage roam free without an adult to take care of them? No!? Gee I wonder why? Could it be because letting a 12 and 10 year old raise themselves is a very stupid idea? One that will potentially damage them later in life assuming that they don't get themselves killed in the meantime. 

Moreover this is yet another example of the series overall problem with not understanding that compromise and resolving conflicts does not mean rewarding the characters at the end with everything that they want without having them work for it. That’s not how life works and it’s not how good story telling works. 

This Is Beyond Irresponsible

No! Bad Show! Bad! 

You do not get to pretend that negligence is the same thing as compromise. Yes I know Eugene said to come to him when they have a problem, but as demonstrated by this very episode children do not always know when to ask for help nor can they always find it when needed, that is why parents exist!  

Nor does the show get a free pass for turning it’s main characters into child abusers who neglected three minors multiple times now. Even when they themselves are victims of that same abuse!

How utterly blinkered do you have to be to not see the problem here? 

It’s the Return of the Pointless Parallels

Let me count the ways for how stupid this is. 

Red and Angry’s conflict has no impact on the on going narrative. Even with them now being reoccurring characters they still manage to contribute nothing to the future storylines involving Cass. 

Neither Rapunzel nor Cassandra learn anything from Red and Angry’s spat; Rapunzel because she refuses to acknowledge her own flaws and Cassandra’s not even here for any of it. 

The sister’s dynamic between Raps and Cass is not well established and the writers mange to piss all over it by series end because of gay baiting and poor writing. Therefore relying on lazy parallels to other siblings in the show to bolster this connection falls flat.  

Red and Angry’s argument has nothing in common with Rapunzel and Cass’s current fighting. One is about abandonment issues and the other is about shallow validation. Trying to tie these two themes together actually winds up undermining both conflicts. 

Red and Angry are children. Rapunzel and Cassandra are not. That very much matters. 

Red and Angry didn’t drag innocent people into their petty bitch fight and endanger them because they wanted to feel special. 

This Makes Zero Sense

I don’t know; she looked pretty happy during Crossing the Line. 

She was also able to control the rocks just fine then, so what happened? 

Not to mention soon after this Zhan Tiri is telling her she needs some sort of incantation to control the rocks, despite being able to already control the rocks.... 

It’s almost as if the writers are full of shit and don’t actually know what they’re doing. 

So Are We Remembering the Burnt Hand or Not?

Does the hand matter or not? Is it ever a motivating factor in what Cassandra decides to do? Is her waning control over the rocks connected to her burnt hand; even though having a burnt hand is what allowed her grab the moonstone in the first place? Did the moonstone heal the hand? Does Raps singing the healing incantation later on heal it? Does Cass have a forever burnt hand? 

Who the fuck knows! 

Not the writers that’s for sure, cause it never comes up again. 

Don’t introduce plot points and then not resolve them. That’s writing 101 guys. 

Wait if she needs the incantation to control the rocks and the angry thing is a lie, then how the heck is she controlling them just now? Make up your dang mind show! 

I swear I lose brain cells whenever I have to rewatch the evil Cassandra plot. It is so dumb  you guys.... so, so dumb. 

Conclusion

It’s not the worst thing ever but series has far better episodes on offer than this one. Even in a season as suck ass as season three. 

So there’s praying that this review posts this time and if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me in my projects feel free to leave a tip on my Ko-Fi. Thank you. 

https://ko-fi.com/rachelbethhines

[jj-ktae]

Note II - Aldehydes

Moodboard : Courtesy of the lovely Jacqueline @jaebeomsmullet​​ ! Thank you for helping and hyping and just being here whenever I need it.

›  Title : Fragrances ›  Genre : Angst, Fluff, Romance, Composer!Jungkook x Perfume Maker!Reader ›  Pairing :  Jeon Jungkook x Female Reader ›  Warning : Mentions of Suicide, heavy subjects, depression (none of these are used with the idea of glamourising mental illness), strong language, smut in later chapters probably. Do not read if any of these trigger you.

›  Author’s note : This is another version of the story I wrote a few years ago for GOT7. Some of the events will be different, others will not change just like some paragraphs will be the same and others won’t. Informations, definitions and words are taken from here and here.

›  Summary : In the world of Perfume making, it is believed that everyone has their own natural fragrance. It is also believed that everyone has that one scent capable of making them feel a thousand things. You find yours in the form of a composer on the verge of breaking, right when you have to face one of the biggest challenge in your life.

Masterlist | Note I - Ionones | 

----------

Note II: Aldehydes

An aroma chemical that contains a functional group consisting of a carbon, a hydrogen, and an oxygen atom. Aldehydes can be derived from natural or synthetic materials. There are different types of scents associated with this chemical function but the most commonly referred to when profiling a scent as “aldehydic” is a sharp, metallic, crisp, slightly fatty impression often associated with the smell of clean textile or hot iron. One of the first “aldehydic” fragrances is the famous N°5 created by Perfumer Ernest Beaux in 1920 and launched by Gabrielle Chanel in 1921.

Your second day is worse than the first one. Jimin is all over the place, mixing essences and sniffing everything he can. You’re glad though, it makes him go silent whenever he concentrates on something, and you have time for focus. It doesn’t help because you’re still frustrated if not more, but at least you can overburden yourself in peace.

 The only light in all that shadow comes from the memory of Jungkook’s scent, precise yet unknown. You try to create something similar, but it’s everything and nothing at the same time and no matter the amount or variety of scent you use, you can’t even get close to it

His scent is a mystery.

It adds to your misery, like a voice mocking you for not being able to recognise a scent while another one forces you to crave for more. It feels like chasing a ghost.

The sound of your head against your office takes Jimin out of his momentum. “What’s happening?” He inquires. He gets up from his own working area to stand next to your powerless soul.

“When is the meeting?” You try because it is potentially the only hope for today. That powerful lady came in early to inform you about an upcoming meeting with the marketing team. The project seems big, because Jimin started to work as soon as she flew out of the laboratory. It’s been one day and he is so open about himself that you can already read his body language.

“3 p.m. I was thinking about a brainstorming. Let’s think about a concept.” He offers because this is going nowhere. You’re about to give up at any minute, and he needs you to be into it.

“What concept? I’m running in circles.” 

“Sexy? Provocateur? Romantic? Angsty? Bucolic?” 

“All of these have already been worked on so many times...I don’t think they want to go for something as...forthright. I’m quite sure they won’t be satisfied with a mere sexy perfume.” It’s what you understood - if your sudden creative freedom is anything to go by.

Jimin understands, his eyes now wide. He has no idea how to achieve that, but he still thinks you’re brilliant for thinking out of the box. He picks his notepad and starts writing everything you said, his brows furrowed.

“We want to be unique. The concept needs to be appealing to the greatest number without being too cliché. We are free to use what we want.” He notes things down and you find yourself peeking at the words, meaningful yet complex.

“So we need to mix a little bit of everything.” Jimin stops for a minute before a whine escapes his thick lips, “I’m lost, help me.”

“We can’t work this way.” You raise your head slowly, ruffling your wild locks in a nonchalant way. “We have to find a scent and put a concept over it. We can’t force the scent based on an imaginary idea.” This only works when a brand has specific goals but here you have nothing. You can’t possibly force an idea into your head. 

Jimin looks pitiful as he puts the notepad away. “It’s going to be harder than I thought.”

And just like the day started, the meeting followed. You were not expecting much of it and you were right. The marketing project came and explained you were free to do anything you wanted. Their main objective was to follow you on whatever you wanted to create, and it’s infuriating. 

How many times do you have to repeat that you can’t do it before they start to believe you?

Jimin, who was stressed before the meeting is now dejected and it almost breaks your heart because you feel responsible. You send him home earlier and decide to work on your own. Two hours later you leave the lab with Orchid oil all over your bag and the urge to cry.

There is only one way to make you feel better. You feel ashamed, like you’re addicted to something but you have to admit it.

Jeon Jungkook’s scent is the only thing worth smelling.

When you come back from work, there is no trace of him. His backpack is gone, the bed looks neat, and even the towel he probably didn’t use is dry. There’s still his smell, fresh in the air and it makes you run back outside to find the bridge where you had found him the night before.

He is not there.

You were exhausted, but you’re suddenly on fire. This situation is stressing you more than it should be when you don’t see him. It’s like you won’t ever see him again. You look around all the bridges you can find close to your place. Jungkook is nowhere to be seen.

You open the door of your apartment with a heavy heart. It’s like you lost something precious and it’s making you angry. What the hell is happening to you?

But you open the door and it hits again, like a whirlpool of long lost feelings and dried memories.

Jeon Jungkook is in your living-room, and his delectable scent pounds in the deepest zones of your brain. He is sitting on the floor by the small table, right hand dancing over bright white paper and guitar on his lap so you only see his back, but it’s the biggest relief you had in years.

He doesn’t turn around when you let your bag fall on the floor, he doesn’t move when you stop next to him. He looks absorbed, entranced. His knee is shaking to an unknown beat, mimicking his left hand which is drumming on the soft brown wood of the instrument he is holding.

“God. I thought- I’m so stupid.” You don’t want to share your worries with him, but the thought of him throwing himself off a bridge is still fresh. It stings more than it should, more than the pain you’re supposed to feel when confronted with a stranger’s despair.

“Hmm?” Jungkook doesn’t move toward you at first, but eventually his hand stops, and he glances up at your pallid features and tensed body “What’s wrong?”

“I came back home and you were not here. I thought...I thought you did something stupid.” You let your body fall on the couch. It’s like blood is circulating again into your veins, your skin going back its initial colour. 

Jungkook is puzzled, like he doesn’t understand why it would be so dramatic for you. “I went around town after I grabbed some stuff from my place.” It’s crazy but he feels sorry for you. “I’m sorry for worrying you” he trails off, scanning your face some more. He has no idea how to react to a stranger panicking over his disappearance. His own family doesn’t panic when he doesn’t show up. He is lost as to why you would be so affected by anything related to him when no one else barely does.

You snort, not mad at him. You’re high on his smell and it’s all that counts. “It’s okay.” Your eyes find his, and his tilted head looks like it’s searching for any sign of discomfort. He only stares back, with eyes way too shiny for someone as dark as him. He looks candid, like he has everything to discover and it’s a mystery how he turned out thinking about the worst.  You have no idea what he might be thinking - excepted that you’re probably out of your mind for reacting like this but he doesn’t question your intentions, for whatever reasons. You finally notice the papers and decide to move on before it gets too disturbing to deal with. “What are you doing?” you nod toward the torn pieces of paper and point a finger at the pile stacking up next to his crossed legs.

He swiftly puts it under his leg. “Nothing. Did you just come back from work?” He tries to change the subject. His voice gets higher and you instantly decipher his anxiety. He isn’t good with facing his own problems and it’s way too early to go into deep talks about lyrics and melodies. He might have agreed to a crazy proposition, but that doesn’t mean he is going to open to you. At least not now.

“I looked for you all over the place.” You admit because it’s a normal thing to do when somebody is in distress. Jungkook is dumbfounded.

“Why would you do this?” The situation in itself is already crazy enough as it is. He doesn’t mind you being friendly with him, even though he is pretty sure he doesn’t need it, but to the point of being dead worried for him?

“You were about to throw yourself off a bridge. I don’t know what kind of life you’ve been living but it’s pretty normal to freak out when something like that happens.” Your outburst shocks him. He doesn’t understand the impact of his actions over his surroundings. He has always thought he was just a detail in everyone else’s lives. 

It has always been this way. He writes in the shadow for people to shine. Him not being here shouldn’t matter to anyone. 

“It’s my business. I’m staying here because I have nothing left and it’s easier than staying in my empty apartment and facing my failures. It doesn’t mean we have to care about each other.” Jungkook doesn’t want to sound mean but he has to make it clear to you. His distress is by no mean a way to ask for anyone’s pity. He refused to add anyone into that mess, let alone a stranger.

It’s obvious, in a way. You know it’s stupid but this scent, it’s making you go wild. You can’t let it pass until you know what it is.

So you agree, taking the same tone and hoping your voice isn’t wavering. “I’m not here for you, I’m worried about another human being wanting to end his life. If it gives you the illusion that I care, I’m sorry about that.” You get up and you sound mad, something Jungkook notices as soon as you close the door a bit too violently.

No matter how mesmerising his scent is, he is apparently not that friendly. You’re not hurt by his words, because you don’t care enough personally to be affected. You’re being selfish, only thinking about your own benefit and what his scent could bring into your life. Jeon Jungkook himself doesn’t pull you in at all. He is someone you barely know anyways.

He doesn’t move from his spot in the living-room until later that night. He suddenly has too many things to write and too little time on his hands. He decides to stop when his wrist starts to hurt and his body hits the mattress of his new bedroom like a bag of sand hits the ground.

He feels at ease in the small room. Wood is covering the floor, and it is the same colour as the tiny office by the window. The view is peaceful, with buildings popping up from the floor like mushrooms and lights festooning the city in tiny dots. The bed is large and thick with soft bedding. The scent of the washing powder turns Jungkook into a nostalgic boy when he rolls into the bed, stretching his sore limbs. He feels even more stupid for feeling comfort in a seemingly empty room. 

He falls asleep right away, exactly 10 seconds after you do. You’re both too exhausted to care about each other, but you both know you’re no strangers to your own common serenity.

And just like you understand the importance of his presence for your brain to function, he notices he needs your place to exist in his creative yet tortured mind. As stupid and as hard to believe as it is.

When you get up the day after, you see him by the kitchen’s table. He is sipping on orange juice that is not yours, and munching on toasts you definitely didn’t buy.

You go to the coffee machine, your head too cloudy to deal with his strong presence.

He speaks first “Want some juice?”. He is trying to make it up to you for his cold behaviour. He just isn’t used to being around you yet. He isn’t used being around anyone yet.

Also, he is the worst when he composes. He needs absolute concentration.

You sip on the hot liquid and nod his way. He hands you a glass with an unreadable face.

“Have a nice day.” He doesn’t know why he says it. He tries to be nice, because there’s nothing much to say to someone you met two days ago. Maybe his pride spoke for him yesterday, or maybe he decided to accept the hand of a stranger, because it’s less burdening than accepting his failures to his entourage. 

You drink the fresh juice fast and walk away. “Thank you.” It is too hard to be rational right now, because the smell seems even stronger now. You probably come off as rude when you don’t reciprocate his words but you don’t dwell on it; that boy isn’t going to accept any sort of compassion anyways.

You enter the bathroom and get hit by the scent of his shower gel. Not that scent either.

You get ready at the same time as you build your resolve. Motivation is the key so maybe if you believe in you and your assistant, things might work out. Jimin is already here when you arrive, his citrus smell filling you from the first floor to the lab. He is joyful, like he found something awesome.

“Boss! Have a sit, come come!” His thin hand adds a tiny pressure to your back, leading you to your office.

“What’s happening?” You barely have the time to comprehend; he is already putting a sample in front of your noise.

You freeze.

“Wh-where did you find t- t- this ?” You utter, immediately thrown off by the odour.

“I was looking through essences this morning, and I thought we could start with a base, just to see what we could make of it. It’s...”

“Winter fir and Balsam*.” You conclude. Everything in this base is satisfying but the most important detail is that you remember this base. You smelled it this morning when you entered the kitchen.

You smell the very distinct feelings of comfort, warmth and softness which invades you whenever you’re close to Jungkook.

Jimin added a little twist to it, tho. “You added Cottage Herb Garden**”. The latter grins at you, visibly proud of himself for coming up with such a smart idea. He too gives off that feeling of freshness that is found in that herb. It is serene and woody and gives off feelings of sweetness and sensuality. Cottage Herb Garden fragrances are made using Aldehydes synthetic scents. 

“I didn’t add much, but I thought it would go well because they both make great seasonal fragrances. I only put 8% though, how did you find out?” he looks shocked but not surprised, like he was half-expecting you to guess it yet still thought it would go unnoticed.

“The herb comes last. The earthy smell that lingers in your nose, it’s this one. Smell it again.” You tell him and he takes his time filling his nose. He closes his eyes and thinks for a moment before opening them again.

“This is Cottage Herb Garden.” You confirm and his mouth is now wide opened. He can’t believe he is working with such a talented person. 

“So, do you think we could try? I feel like we’re using a lot of Aldehydes but at the same time it feels like a soft base note…” Jimin trails off, his fingers playing with the bottles. 

You acquiesce, mind already elsewhere. It feels like the first step to Jungkook’s identity and it is energising. You take a sharp breath, startling Jimin who laughs at you because it’s like you found life again. 

“You sound satisfied.” He offers the sample along with a genuine smile and for the first time, you smile back at him, thankful.

“You did great. I wonder why they hired me when you’re doing great on your own.” It’s true. Jimin came up with extremely complex scents and came up with a base note you would have never found on your own.

Jimin rolls his eyes and decides not to answer. If only he could have a quarter of your talent. He opens his notebook and starts writing, his eyes now shiny with glee

Base notes:  Aldehydes (Synthetic) = Winter Fir  /  Cottage Herb Garden.

You put the sample in front of you and stare at it. So that was it. You smile to yourself, in a way, it’s like you can almost smell Jungkook.

You spent the rest of your day looking for another element to add to your base and when nothing comes to your mind you feel frustrated, but it’s the best you can do for now. Jimin is exhausted and snoring in a corner of the lab, his petite body squeezed between two cabinets. You shake him to wake his sleepy body and tell him to go home when you give up for the day.

It’s been so long since the last time Jungkook felt this satisfied. He didn’t go out, too engrossed into his lyrics to care about the light of the sun peeking through the opened blinds. It’s leaking off his pen, like he can’t stop the flood of ideas and he feels like a mad scientist, crazy and ecstatic. He takes a break around dinner time and when his stomach starts creating its own music.

He takes out noodles from the food he bought the day before. Living with you meant sharing a flat, but he wanted to provide his own necessities. Participating in daily life matters is only natural, after all.

His phone rings, and the caller ID makes him sigh. He is too hungry to face what is about to come, and his spent brain is screaming for rest.

He coughs, keeping his voice steady “Yes.” His tone is disillusioned. Jungkook barely gets any call nowadays, and except from work, he only knows one person who can annoy the hell out of him so much.

“You remember me? I thought depression AND amnesia hit you at once.” He wants to hang up when he hears the throaty voice. It’s heavy with judgement but then again, when is it not?

“And you wonder why I don’t call you, Yoongi-hyung.” Jungkook finishes the sentence in a sigh. Yoongi is awesome at being a nagging mother.

“You’re too busy being away I guess. Artists are such a handful.” He hears steps and after a while, Yoongi speaks again. “Where are you? I’ve been waiting in front of your flat.”

“I moved out.” Jungkook looks fine with the revelation. It’s like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“What? Where? Why didn’t you tell me?” he hears Yoongi’s car and supposes the latter is already going back to his place. 

“It’s been two days. I’m living with a girl.” He blows hair on the steaming bowl of noodles, ignoring his friend’s deep shriek.

Yoongi doesn’t know what’s happening anymore. Jungkook leaving on an inspiration crusade is common, it’s something he does whenever he gets overwhelmed by his feelings. Never once did he actually move out to live with someone else, let alone a girl.

He doesn’t even remember when was the last time Jungkook even dated someone. “Living together as in...romantically?” he tries, suddenly wary because he expected a lot of answers, but not this one.

“I couldn’t write anymore. I’m renting a room in her apartment.” He swallows the food like he has been starving for days. There is not the slightest hint of discomfort in his voice.

Yoongi laughs after a while “You’re living with your landlord. God, Jungkook, I know you people need some sort of inspiration to exist, but to the point of living with some old lady for the sake of music...”

“She’s not old.” Jungkook has no idea why it’s the only part of the sentence he reacted to, but all of a sudden he doesn’t want anyone to make fun of the person who took him in, not when he wrote ten songs in the span of two days. Not when he feels like no one can hurt him in your quiet kitchen.

“Anyways. Lunch with me tomorrow, how does that sound? Shall I check on that woman you’re living with ? How much is she charging you ? Aren’t you being scammed?”

“I can’t.” Jungkook sighs, ignoring the numerous questions because this is so typical of Yoongi to make sure no one is messing with him. “I have to eat with my parents, don’t tell them that I moved out.”

“You have always been doing everything you wanted anyways, what would it change if he was to know?”

Because he is going to crush me down like fine dust.

It has always been the same, and no matter how successful he was at some point, his father was never satisfied. Not when music is not a certain source of income, not when reputation comes before everything else.

 “I’m hanging up.” He announces once panic overtakes him and hears his friend objects, telling him he will meet with him no matter what.

It’s not like he doesn’t want to see him. It’s just complicated. Jungkook has always been different from others. He was raised with Yoongi and they had the same nanny when they were young. The age difference rapidly made Yoongi turn into the older brother as time passed, and while he was the one introducing Jungkook to music making, he quickly stopped to take over his family’s business. He never explained to him how he drifted from music, but he is now all about business.  Their respective parents were and still are too busy to deal with education, and while Yoongi grew up like the sharks his father works with, he took after a quieter side, the one that tells him to do what he wants instead of chasing money.

Yoongi often tells him he is a fool, that he doesn’t need anything else if he can have a bright future with his father’s company. He often answers that he doesn’t want to work without a purpose, and Yoongi always tells him to stop being a hypocrite and rely on his father’s money if he was to spit on it.

It’s true, Jungkook doesn’t know struggling. He was born in a rich family with a lot of possibilities. He was able to become a lyricist after a lot of failures, and his parents never gave up on him financially. This is probably why he is so affected when he can’t write. He doesn’t know how to deal with difficulties, he who lived with all the good things of the world.

He hears the door opening and your sore body appears before him, surprised to see him home. It’s like you were expecting him to run away, again. You don’t speak when you see him, mouth full of noodles and wearing the same clothes you left him in this morning. The silence is thick, oxygen heavy with uneasiness. Jungkook blinks, slurping on the noodles before wiping his mouth hastily.

“Want some noodles?” It’s hard to catch on the words, but he moves the bowl in front of him, and you understand. 

You nod.

No matter how strong the smell of seafood is, his scent always wins over everything else. You decide to stay close because you’re slowly deciphering his smell, and you need more time to know where you’re going.

He goes to the cupboard like he has been living here for years and fills another bowl before sitting back. You’re surprised by his sudden gentleness but brush the worries off. You’re supposed to feel weirded by the fact that an unknown man is now living with you, but none of you are freaked out.

Jungkook is too happy to be productive again. You’re too drawn into your memories to stop everything.

You sit in front of him and after a couple of minutes, he speaks. It takes you out of the now soggy food.

“What’s your job?” Jungkook sounds interested, but you know he is only trying to ease the mood.

“I’m a perfume composer.” You decide not to dig further into the matter. It’s a peculiar world, something that only a few people can relate to. Most people think you mix synthetic molecules into expensive glass bottles, wrapped in glitters and hidden into luxury boxes with frills and furbelows.

And you get offended, knowing fully well that it’s exactly what you think you’re doing.

Jungkook doesn’t sound impressed, you’re not surprised by that. 

“Sounds complex.” It is. It truly is, and even more when he is entering your every pore. You don’t know if you’ll ever get used to it.

“It’s not.” you lie, “How about you?” His face lits subtly, and he seems shy all of a sudden. You don’t know this side of him yet, and you wonder where his emo behaviour went.

He coughs, putting the bowl down. “I’m a lyricist. I write lyrics and sometimes I compose, but I mostly write.”

 “That sounds complex.” You muse. Jungkook is a tormented artist, then. It explains why he keeps on dreaming on bridges like he is filming a music video.

“Sometimes it’s complex, sometimes it’s a matter of course. I’ve been having a blackout recently.” It’s a confession, and he doesn’t know why he is sharing such a deep problem with you, a stranger.

You forget about the food “That’s why you were surrounded by torn papers.”

He chuckles. “Exactly. I’m getting there, though.”

It feels different to deal with such an open Jungkook. He chats like you’re close, smiles sometimes, he is almost glowing.

That evening you learn that he uses a pen name to write lyrics. He doesn’t want to tell you, but you know too little about the music industry and he finally spills the beans.

JK.

It sounds like some mysterious pen name used by thriller writers but you don’t tell him that. Instead, you decide to go to bed. No matter how comfortable you both seem, you’re not ready to share the part about you being addicted to his scent. He goes to his spot near the small table in your living-room and his hand goes back to a wild dance, covering the blank paper with ink. He is inspired.

He goes to bed right when you get up the day after and wakes up late for his lunch with his parents.

It’s not like he is eager to meet with them.

_

Plants. Plants plants plants. You look through the samples with haste. You know it has something to do with nature. The base note has to be about something else.

“What are you doing?” You smell Jimin the minute he opens the door, but you don’t let yourself be interrupted. You know you sound like a stalker, but you might or might not have smelled Jungkook’s jacket this morning, and you are sure of a thing: there is only one element left to create a frank base.

You don’t know when you switched from creating a perfume to reproduce his scent, but it doesn’t matter.

“All the samples are here, right?” The organ is huge and cabinets full, but it’s not enough for you. Jimin throws his vest on one of the chairs and approaches you, stifling a yawn.

“Yes. I think that’s quite a lot, actually.” He peeks from behind your shoulder, and sees your hands going through the numerous bottles, unsatisfied.

“No. No. These are generic scents. You don’t have any rare roots names, you forgot a lot of exotic fruits and most importantly, you don’t have anything uncommon.” 

Jimin makes a face. He is not lost, he is adrift. “I’m afraid I don’t understand...”

“Tobacco abs, myrrh, resinoid, Balkans...” You talk but it sounds like a whole new language even for your assistant.

“Well, we have listed a lot of names. Most of them were used by previous composers, but we added more. I didn’t think it needed that much to be completed.” He knows about perfumes, he has a lot of knowledge, but you’re suddenly on a whole new level and can’t be reached.

You’re suddenly talking about tobacco odours and it freaks him out.

“I have a lot of these at home.” This could seriously help you. You barely use these, and most of them were sent by your father and collected on the internet. It’s the first time you can actually put them to good use because you know they could help, but you can’t bring them here.

Also, you think about how much easier it would be to just move work to an environment bathed by that scent which makes you crazy. How stimulating would it be ?

Jimin is expectant, but you don’t say more. He finally waves a worried hand in front of your face and you snap to meet his blinking eyelids.

“Let’s work from my place. This is what I often did.” Your offer makes him take a step back. He is not used to you being so devoted to this project.

“Are you sure? I don’t think the boss would object. We’ve had a few composers with weird demands before.” He doesn’t know what’s on your mind, but you’re a genius to his eyes and the mere idea of him seeing the place where you created such amazing products is electrifying. He can’t wait to know more about your ways.

“Good.” You glance around the room, “I don’t like this atmosphere.” You don’t mind if Jimin sees your place. At some point, you’re pretty much sure you could go with anything as long as you find the missing pieces of this conundrum. 

You’re aware that you’re turning into an obsessional mess, but it feels pleasant to have a goal. This goes beyond everything you experienced, it gives you a fuel you didn’t know you could have.

You take the day to gather some samples and ask Jimin to let the boss know about your change of plans. At the end of the day, he helps you carry the numerous samples home. You’re a happy mind, torn between apprehension and excitement.

You open the door and Jungkook sees two huge boxes enter the living-room. He is rubbing a towel against his wet hair but he catches your box before you can let it crash to the ground. Jimin lets his own fall with a soft thud and you’re startled when you hear a dismayed squeal, along with Jimin’s shocked face, his finger pointing at a puzzled Jungkook.

“JK?!”

-------

* Winter Fir and Balsam : This redolent mixture of refreshing natural pine mingled with a sweet, peppery, delicately refined and soft base note of balsam has a soothing and warm character. It evokes particular feelings of warmth and comfort. The mind’s eye (and nose) recalls Christmas trees and sleigh rides and happy times by a fireside or even in a small apartment among special friends or family.

** Cottage Herb Garden : Sparkling blue waters, gentle summer winds and cozy brick cottages nestled in the lush, serene English countryside characterised this green floral scent. Enticing notes of sweet, earthy, star anise, fresh basil, grassy parsley, aromatic wild flowers, fresh garden greens and a woodsy, sensual musk base note comprise this complex aroma.

[wyofabdoms]

Ten Days- Day Three

Characters: Javier Peña x female reader

Summary: Javier is shot and refuses to take his antibiotic while recuperating. You get creative and make him a deal that ensures he will take his medicine everyday: one kiss for one pill. It's gonna be a long 10 days.

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Major character injury, slow burn, mutually unrequited, medical inaccuracies, swearing, soft Javi

Word Count: 1917

Note: Javi gets himself into a bit of a situation.  

Read the full series on Ao3

Late Sunday afternoon you find yourself glancing at the clock for what feels like the ten thousandth time.  You haven't heard a peep from your partner since you left his apartment mid morning yesterday.  He knows where you live and has your number...if he needed something surely he would have called you.  He’d changed his own bandages yesterday (albeit badly), and could obviously move around his apartment if he needed to.  For the better part of your day, you had bandied about the idea of just not showing up at his apartment at all.  Why should you serve him up the opportunity to continue this stupid power game; this one pill, one kiss arrangement?  

You had expected to make him the deal the first night, then figured he would see reason and be an adult and take the antibiotic on his own to prevent infection like any other normal human healing from a gunshot wound. You had assumed it would just be that first kiss; using his attraction to you to get him to do what you wanted.   But, you’d been stupid.  You’d let him alter the terms. Now you knew he would never let you hear the end of it if you reneged on your part of the deal.  His little stunt yesterday with the chair and his tongue made it clear that he not only enjoyed the prospect of 8 more opportunities to kiss you, but that he would most likely turn up the intensity each day.  That particular thought made something deep within you spark and unfurl, tightening in your lower belly and sending a shiver up your spine.

Truthfully, you hadn’t exactly hated those two kisses.  You had found yourself wandering aimlessly around your apartment several times today, having started with a destination and goal in mind, but finding your thoughts wandering back to Javier and completely forgetting where you were headed or why by the time you got there.  Yesterday you had stormed back into your apartment and taken the longest cold shower of your life.  Your body seemed to think for itself as it reacted to the memories of Javi’s tongue, the feel of his mustache, his dark eyes peering at you, the feel of his toned muscles beneath your hand.  

If you went back to his apartment and he insisted on continuing with this, you weren’t entirely sure your resolve would be able to convince your body not to give in to more with this maddening man.  That absolutely infuriated you....and excited you a little, too.

Finally, you looked at the clock; it read a quarter past 8.  You’d just go down quickly and make sure he had at least eaten something.  You’d keep your distance from him; there was no way in hell you’d let him catch you off guard today.

As soon as you enter his apartment, you know something isn’t right when you immediately notice his sidearm on the kitchen counter.  The apartment is dark; no muted flickers from the television, no lamps or lights streaming from the living room or kitchen.  You glance in his bedroom and small office and find them both dark and empty as well.  A chill run through you and you feel a small kernel of panic seed its cold shell in the pit of your stomach.  He knew better than to not have his weapon on his person or near him.  What the fuck, Peña?  Where the hell did you go?  You are about to race to your own apartment and alert the embassy when you notice the bathroom door ajar at the end of the hall.  You carefully nudge it open with your foot, one hand hovering over your own weapon at your hip.  

“Jesus, Peña!”  Your eyes widen as you take in your shirtless partner sprawled on the tile floor, his back propped against the side of the bathtub and legs stretched haphazardly in front of him, head tilted back against the porcelain and eyes closed.  Around him bits and pieces of torn and bloodied bandage and tape littered the floor, along with his shirt, the pill bottle of antibiotics, and what appeared to be the remaining contents of a first aid kit.  All of this is barely visible in the dark of the bathroom, the only source of light from the street light shining through the small window illuminating Javier’s face, making him look jaundiced. You quickly paw the wall for the light switch and your cold panic rises as you snap on the overhead light and take in your partner in full light.  

His face is grey and covered with a thin sheen of sweat.  His eyes come open for a moment and look towards you but then quickly close again against the harsh light and he lets his head thump back against the tub.  With the light on you are better able to see that the bandage at his side is merely held in place by his arm clenching against his stomach.  He must have been in the middle of changing it out when…

“What happened?!” You kneel next to him, grateful that he’s awake, but trying to piece together what exactly had led him to his present situation.  You gingerly move his arm out of the way, removing the untaped gauze and looking closely at his wound.  Though his stitches looked fine, the skin around the injury was bright red and swollen. “Why the hell are you trying to change your bandage in the dark?” 

“Wasn’t dark when I started.”  He bites out.  The sun had gone down several hours ago.  Your eyes flash up to his drawn face as realization hits you: he’s been here on the bathroom floor for more than three hours.  A pang of guilt shoots through your chest and you swallow hard.

You place the back of your hand on his forehead for a moment, then along the side of his face.  He sighs, eyes still closed, and leans into your touch like it’s a balm.  He doesn’t seem to be running a fever which is a good thing; the sweat must be from the exertion of trying to change the bandage. The doctors had warned that his injury might swell.  Assuring him you would be right back and ordering him not to move, you hurry to the kitchen to grab ice.  Sweeping the objects on the floor around him out of your way, you sit next to him and gently place the ice against his side.  He hisses in a sharp breath at the cold and jolts away, causing another stab of pain to his side and ripping a small groan of pain from his throat.  He knocks his head back against the tub three times (a little harder than you were completely comfortable with) and releases a long, growling sigh before stilling once more and taking a deep breath through his nose.

The two of you sit that way in silence for a long while, serenaded by the occasional sound of a passing car on the street, the slow drip of water coming from somewhere, and the sound of each other’s breathing echoing off of the tiles.  Silences between the two of you aren’t really new.  You have spent hours sometimes sitting in each other’s presence, not speaking but not really needing to as you pored over reports or studied files, content with the long stretches of affable silence.  You usually found silences with your partner reassuring.  Now, though, the silence that stretched between you was tarnished with your own guilt at having not checked on him sooner.  

You check your watch, confirming that enough time has passed to remove the ice.  The swelling seems to have gone down slightly, which is a good sign, but it was still more red than you would like.  You’d need to be sure he iced it again before the night was over.  Making sure the area is dry, you carefully collect the gauze and tape and set to work rebandaging his side.  Despite your worry for his well-being, you try not to notice the way the skin of his taut torso feels beneath your fingers or the trail of dark hair that adorns his lower stomach and disappears beneath the waistband of his jeans.  You smooth the last piece of tape down and glance up, only to find that his head is no longer tilted back and he’s watching your face, his eyes soft.  Those brown eyes seem to seize your own and you can’t bring yourself to look away.  

“I’m sorry,” you say softly.  His eyes flash with a question.

“What for?”  You look down at your hands, folding them on your lap.  

“For not coming to check on you sooner.”  You force yourself to look back up at him.  “ I was...I dunno.  I was embarrassed, I guess.  Well, maybe not embarrassed...I was just…”  You take a deep breath.  “I was anxious after….after yesterday…” you let that trail off.  He knows what you mean.   He looks at you for a few moments longer, his face unreadable.  Then he breaks your gaze and reaches for the pill bottle on the floor next to him.  Your stomach drops as he spills a pill into his hand quickly and swallows it.  Without looking at you, he replaces the lid on the bottle, then reaches to take one of your hands with one of his.  He turns your hand palm up and draws it up to place it against his cheek, mirroring your earlier touch to his face.  Once again, he leans into your touch and closes his eyes, letting the seconds stretch and widen as he reveles in the feel of your skin against his, then he turns his face and places a soft kiss on the palm of your hand, holding his lips against your skin for several moments.  His eyes slip open and meet yours over the edge of your hand.  Your breath hitches softly when you see the longing and desire there.

As though in slow motion, he releases and returns your hand to its original spot on your lap, his eyes never leaving yours.  You sit stunned for a moment, unsure of what to do next.  

“Guess it’s a good thing I was motivated to take my meds, huh?  This all could have been a lot worse.” He gestures around at the mess of bandages and paraphernalia around you.  He sighs and slowly sits up straighter.  “I think I’m probably gonna need some help getting up and to the couch, though.”  You know your face shows the confusion you’re feeling.  Was that it?  He gets one kiss per pill and THAT’S what he uses today’s to do?  A tiny voice in the back of your head grumbles in disappointment, but you quickly smash that voice, snapping out of your thoughts and standing up, offering both hands down to help him get to his feet.  

When he’s standing in front of you, he grips your hands for a moment, keeping you closer than you know you should be.  Your guard goes up, ready to call him out for having already used his daily dose should he try to go in for another kiss.  He lifts your hands in his up in a gesture to bring your eyes up to meet his own. 

“There’s nothing to be sorry about,” he says in response to your earlier apology.  “I knew you’d find me eventually.  You always do.”

Day One

Day Two

Day Four