#so as a sort of testament to her ability to see the future

[witchykale]

i have so much complex lore for MID in my head that im straight up analyzing the parallelism in my OWN lore

[alovelyburn]

Rambles about the Golden Age Arc Part 15

Leeeets see how far this can go. I think at most we’ll end up with 17 - this one, the eclipse and the eclipse aftermath. But I’m hoping and dreaming that I can pull of 16. And I’m not changing this regardless of what happens, let it stand as a testament to the giddy heights to which I aspired, whether or not I fall short.

(I fell short!)

Rambles about the Golden Age Arc Part 15

1. I have a lot of really complicated feelings about this whole section of the series. I think it’s fantastic, beautifully written, deeply heartbreaking and kind of disturbing? I mean I talked about this a bit last time - the dehumanized way the Hawks in general regarded Griffith, the way they saw him as a ticket to better things and the way they treated him like a doll when he couldn’t help them anymore.

The thing is, I don’t really mean to make it sound like they were disgusting moochers who didn’t care about him or anything. I think they... looked up to him in a way that bordered on religious and like any group of such people, they saw him as the thing that made their life meaningful and brought them comfort and possibilities. And @zombiesgohome, which is a much nicer person than me, also pointed out that its especially difficult for them to let go of the dream of climbing back to the top... because they were THERE. Griffith took them on and turned them into the strongest army in Midland. This group of mostly commoners and the occasional noble-too-far-down-the-line-to-inherit suddenly found themselves knighted, on the verge of peerage. They were war heroes. And then suddenly it all ended and... because they thought of Griffith as untouchable and miraculous and retained that faith in him that they build (with his help) over years, they never doubted for a moment that if they could get him back, they could just do it all over again.

And they’re  so young, right, like even Corkus was only in his early 20s. It would be devastating to feel like all your hopes are over when you’ve just started living. 

So, you know, I get it. But that said.... it’s still very uncomfortable, and i do kind of think it’s intended to be.

It’s telling that as soon as it becomes clear that Griffith can’t help them they try to attach themselves to Casca instead. There’s no... ability to make their own path or forge their own future, they’re always looking to someone greater than them to provide it, and that’s why Griffith never... saw them as friends. Because they had sort of a mutually beneficial parasitic relationship with him really - much moreso than just a normal commander and army.

Also Judeaus line on the first page above is changed in the deluxe edition - it now says “Without Griffith, there is no Band of the Hawk.” Which I think is... much more pointed than just saying he’s the founder. I mean, the group’s name just means “Griffith’s band,” doesn’t it?”

But okay there’s a lot going on here lemme see how I can break down my personal perspective on it...

2. When I’m writing these things sometimes I flash back to some weird shit I saw people say about the series at some point. I mean, it’s definitely obvious when that happens because I start arguing against things no one said to me, but anyway right now the thing in question is the belief that Guts and Casca were still intending to take off, and Guts said he’d stay entirely because Casca said she would (presumably so he could be with her). 

Okay, no. First of all, when it becomes clear that Griffith can’t be their war leader anymore and the Hawks ask Casca to remain as commander, Guts is just about to tell them yeah let’s do it? He has at this point already begun changing his mind, he just hasn’t articulated it yet, and that’s extremely obvious in the scenes to come. What’s more, Casca herself is already wavering, saying she has to think about it. I’m sure some of that is an attempt to stall because I really don’t think she wants to keep leading them - she barely wanted to do it to begin with.. But it’s clear that she also feels an obligation to them as well as to Griffith. 

But really let’s look at Guts. She knows he was about to tell them to keep going. And he is already like, wtf Casca don’t tell me you were thinking about quitting? He has obviously, at this point - and perhaps without even fully registering that he’s done it - begun to give up on leaving and not because he feels obligated the way Casca does but because not giving up is who he is.

Also Deluxe edition - that last panel is “There are some battles a person can’t give up on because they started them.” Which just has a completely different implication - she’s not saying yeah since you started doing this i guess you have to keep going. Rather she’s drawing a line between the battles started by people like Guts and Griffith, who chose a direction and headed in that direction and who cant change courses because it’s their fight that means everything to them... and the battles someone like the Hawks or Casca herself were part of  for someone else’s vision. Because without Griffith that vision is gone, isn’t it? If they keep going what are they even aiming for?

Because Guts is a Big Epic, though, he doesn’t have the same reaction to that loss as everyone else, you know? Because the thing is, even when he was originally part of the Hawks, Guts didn’t actually hang from Griffith’s dream. He did what he wanted. He made his own choices even if it meant disobeying Griffith’s orders. That’s a lot of why Griffith loves him. In the wake of losing Griffith’s guidance he may waver but he still stands up, he still finds a direction of his own. Casca understands the despair that falls on the Hawks without Griffith much better than Guts can not because Guts doesn’t care about Griffith (...obviously. Griffith’s his most important person and anyone who thinks otherwise should read it again) it’s because he is “Just like Griffith.” They’re made of the same stuff. They’re people that get clung to, rather than people who cling.

Except to each other.

Anyway, that becomes really evident with the Raiders in a minute or two.

Deluxe says: I wanted someone to be by my side.

Not a huge difference really, but. Anyway one of the things about Guts and Casca’s romance is that so much of it is, as they both said, licking each other’s wounds. I don’t think that’s meant to discount or undermine their connection, it’s just interesting because the connection grows in their mutual sadness. For a long time I wanted there to be some deep meaning behind her saying that at this moment, but ultimately, now that I’ve taken a step back, I think she’s just explaining why she comes over and leans on Guts. She was just looking for a moment of comfort. 

And Griffith hears it, which is relevant my God, I wish people could read.

Anyway!

And there’s Guts turning the wheels in his head.

3. Anyway back to the scene that some people think is a sexual assault for some godforsaken reason. Look. Not that anyone’s going to listen to me but fuck’s sake. Okay.

Let’s recount Griffith and Casca’s relationship briefly. 

She’s in love with him, but more than that she’s always felt that he gave her strength through being near her and touching her. Whenever she felt anxious he would place a hand on her shoulder and she would feel strong again. He just heard her express her fears and say she wants someone near her. Now she comes into the wagon and she’s bandaging him up. So like ok.

When she first starts, hes just watching her with this soft expression. At this point she’s still calm and composed on the outside. 

But as she continues to think about him and their history, she starts visibly shaking and becoming increasingly upset.

And he’s ... watching her face? Like he can tell she’s getting worked up.

Many people take that look he gets as evidence of his evol or whatever, but he gets it when Guts is endangered and he tries to help him. He gets it when he catches people trying to poison him. He gets it when Charlotte says she missed him. Guts gets it too - ALL THE TIME, when he’s focusing or intent. It’s literally just Miura’s way of visually depicting that kind of mindset, and of course then she knocks over the water in her anxiety which then leads to what people think is some kind of rape attempt.

But like, that obviously makes no sense, right? Because even aside from the non-sequitur that would be, how’s he going to assault her when they’re both fully dressed? How can you call it a rape attempt when she says no and he just kind of hugs her?

Look. I don’t know whether Miura was trying to imply that he was making a sexual move on her - it’s wholly possible, i mean he does focus on their crotch overlap. Or maybe that was meant to show what Casca perceived him to be doing. 

Because this moment does look to me like a moment when her perception of what he’s doing changes. So I don’t know. Maybe he was just trying to hold her like she said she wanted someone to. I don’t know. But calling it a sexual assault is bugfuck and I think people need to pull their twisty glasses off their eyes and stop guzzling the haterade. Confirmation bias is a bitch.

Also, the placement of the scene is kind of obviously meant to call back to all the times she had anxiety and he comforted her, because it’s literally right after she thinks about his tendency to comfort her when she was anxious, followed by her becoming visibly anxious. So like, clearly he’s trying to comfort her? You could say he’s doing it sexually or with poorly coordinated hugs, either really works given his personality, but it’s really not an attempt to assault her. It’s like the Charlotte thing - if you’re reading it that way, it’s because you want to. Full stop.

The other and honestly kind of dickish but still wholly accurate reason this makes no sense as a sexual assault is, even if you perceive Griffith (as opposed to Femto) as someone who would rape a person, the only reason Femto did it was to taunt Guts, and Guts isn’t there so what would the motivation even be?

Moving on!

4. Back to Guts and how he very obviously had no intention of leaving before Casca even opened her mouth about staying. Literally Judeau is like gonna go back to training? and Guts is like “............................................” Like, come on he’s already wavering. But more than that:

He does want to stay for Griffith. Because the second Judeau mentions that he intends to look after him, Guts goes from “.......” to “oh, yeah ok me too.” 

The thing is though, even though I do think in this moment (and since getting back from the rescue), Guts has been wavering because he,... loves Griffith and doesn’t want to leave him in this state any more than Casca does, for example...  his want to stay as a generality isn’t solely about Griffith just like it isn’t solely about Casca - 

It is, in a larger sense, about his growing realization that all the times he wondered where he belonged, he was already in that place and didn’t realize it until it was too late. Because as Gaston says, they’re his family... so how can he leave them now?

But going back to the Judeau scene, the difference between Guts and Judeau in this is really obvious. Because Guts isn’t trying to stay from obligation, he’s trying to stay because he loves Griffith and he loves the Hawks and he doesn’t want to leave them anymore especially with Griffith as he is. For Judeau it’s duty, but for Guts it’s personal. This comes  up again in... Volume 18 I think it is, when he thinks about how how technically he doesn't have the duty or obligation to avenge the Hawks since he wasn’t even a Hawk anymore - he chose to do it because of his own pain, and because he still loves them, and can’t forget them.

Judeau is looking to take care of Griffith because of a sense of loyalty and obligation - like Gambino’s mercenary band taking care of him in his fallen state. 

But Guts just... wants to take care of his friend.

Guts’ face here is pretty funny to me because it is not the face of someone who is enthusiastic about taking off with his girlfriend, it’s like he’d like Judeau to stop meddling in his shit or something. But really Judeau’s main allegiance has been to Casca since way back when - what he really cares about is making sure she doesnt get sucked into Griffith’s orbit again.

Ultimately I do think if the Eclipse hadn’t been triggered Guts would have ended up staying around. I don’t know whether he would have headed off with the Raiders or stuck around with the larger group... and I don’t know whether he or Casca would have ended up leading.  ...well if I’m honest I suspect it would have been Guts because Casca didn’t even want the job and everyone knew, even going back to just after the timeskip, that Guts is the only one who can stand in Griffith’s place without drowning in his shadow. But either way, I don’t think he had any interest in leaving again.

I guess you would have ended up with a situation similar to the merc group he grew up with - formed by Gambino who, post-injury, ended up being taken care of by the group while it operated under a new leader.

It’s a little fitting really, a lot of Guts’ life goes in cycles - eg the way Casca becomes an echo of Cis after the eclipse. Cis who, notably, went mad after a miscarriage.

I mean if nothing else Judeau does know how Casca is. 

Anyway, the thing is, their individual battles with themselves over whether to go or stay, their individual decisions to stay (even if Judeau kinda half-pushed Guts out the door), those are things that don’t really have much to do with each other, right? Yes they are trying to be together, but when it comes down to it they both make a decision about what to do based on what Griffith needs... because in the end they both always focused on him over themselves or each other. I feel like trying to turn that into a non-thing is kind of missing the weight and tragedy of the story because part of the reason Griffith’s actions are so devastating to Guts (and Casca presumably once she actually remembers them) is that they were inflicted by someone that they were willing to kill and die for. Someone they never would have willingly abandoned - even someone they chose over one another. If you see it like Griffith wasn’t that big a deal to them, then the Eclipse actually loses some of its bite to me. 

And it is based on Griffith. Casca is explicitly deciding to choose Griffith because he needs her, but Guts already decided to stay when Judeau said he would take care of Griffith even without knowing what Casca would choose to do, you know? 

This scene really reminds me of Griffith asking Guts if he’s a horrible person and Guts telling him not to worry about it. Because in both cases, Casca-and-Guts are trying to be supportive of this person they love. But much like Guts didn’t fully understand what Griffith was trying to ask him, Casca doesn’t fully understand Guts’ reasoning. Because they’ve been spinning their wheels independently, they haven’t been touching base, she has no idea he already realized that these people are the home he was looking for. She’s trying to support what she thinks he wants.

But... 

In reality, he just regrets leaving to begin with. He wants to stay.

I really want to keep blabbing but I feel like all the Griffith psychology stuff from the hallucination of himself at his prime through the sacrifice needs to be in one post so I guess I’ll lay off for the moment. Also I need to bring tissues to talk about that. 

Besides this one is short in chapters but long in blah blah, so, NEXT TIME.... The Mind of the Hawk! My very favorite topic. Except maybe the Mind of the Dog.

[eponymous-rose]

Talks Machina Highlights - Critical Role C2E133 (April 13, 2021)

(Little distracted tonight! Please excuse any and all omissions.)

Tonight’s guests on Good Morning Quebec are Marisha Ray and Travis Willingham!

How are Beau and Fjord feeling about their leadership responsibilities among the Nein? Marisha: “Beau has always admired Fjord and respected his ability to speak like an adult. It does feel like-- are Beau and Fjord the only adults in the room?” Travis points out Caduceus and Caleb’s leadership as well. “In that conversation, at least, just because I want it to be a tiny bit meta, a lot of it’s just mindset. Fjord knows that Beau is a world-breaker, can kick that ass, and the idea that part of the focus would be diverted towards how can we get out here, it was feeling a little bit more like we’re done for rather than we can do this. It was his way of doing the old coach reminder of stop thinking of the ways you’re going to get out of this and start thinking of the ways you’re going to dominate this.” Marisha mentions that Beau and Travis are kind of the two who aren’t saying goodbyes, and yet they’re two of the only ones who just have the Nein. “Even Caleb was allowed to say goodbye to his cat! We don’t even have that. It’s just the Nein. They are the ultimate goodbyes for us, if it comes to that. But hopefully it won’t come to that.” Travis: “There’s a certain drive that comes with not having wrapped it up in a pretty bow.”

On Fjord’s decision to have the Rangers engage: “Yeah, that one stings. I was suffering from the good ol’ regurts almost as soon as it happens. I realized it was just Essek and Fjord, and he was just asking me, and boy there were a lot of horseshit RP things going around my head.” He kept in mind that the captain has to be decisive and focus on his people. “I in no way thought of Dagon at all. Fuck, did I send Dagon to his death? Did that headstrong dude go, nah, I’ll do my own thing and get out of there? I hadn’t really experienced that kind of instant regret in a gameplay situation yet. But in leadership moments, or when you have to make a decision like that, sometimes it’s important to take a fucking minute and think about what you’re doing. Even in D&D. I wish I had taken a moment to say, how far away are they? If you engage them from afar, can you slow them down long enough? Set an ambush if you can, but at least be at max.”

On Beau’s meditation attempt that ended in contact with Lucien: “I think I know exactly what he was trying to do. He was trying to put another fuckin’ eye somewhere on me. I was remembering Keyleth putting her hand in the spinning black orb of death under the Ziggurat and I rolled a natural twenty.” Travis asks if she thinks she and Caleb are “next up in the queue” now that so many of the Tombtakers are dead. “Yeah. I’m gonna get turned.” Travis: “I’ll kill you real good, Beau. I’ll take Caleb first because he made me promise, but I’ll get you good, too.”

On Fjord now having more information about Vandren: “I love it. I feel like such a fuckin’ moron. It never occurred to me for one second that a shipwrecked person that survived would have maybe just wound up on the nearest island. Nope. Didn’t even bother to do the Castaway grid and check the nearest body of land. I’m a fuckin’ terrible D&D player.” Fjord washed up extremely far away from the wreck. “I love that he’s there. I cannot wait to go find him and have a conversation. I just don’t know which will come first: going to Darktow and confronting Sabien or going to see Vanden. But both of those things are on the list, for sure. Just for closure, I mean, damn.” Brian asks if Fjord is okay with Jester having reached out. “Yeah, totally. Fjord is a big dummy in a lot of ways.” He mentions that Fjord has a lot of ideas in his head about what it means to “be a man” that keeps him from asking for help when he needs it. “When Jester did that, it just reaffirmed his feelings for her and how she feels for him. It’ll take those kind of people in his life to help him along to the things that he wants when he’s too stupid or shy to acknowledge it himself.”

How about that alliance with Essek? Marisha: “Here’s the thing. Beau wasn’t like, ooh, allying with Trent, that’s icky because of moral reasons. It’s not that. The more allies, the better in this moment. Teaming up with Magneto kind of situation. But Beau’s whole concern was is this going to distract you from the overall mission. I couldn’t imagine walking alongside someone who had just tortured me in the way that Trent has. We spent so many episodes watching Caleb have these post-traumatic flashes of when he lit his family on fire. Caleb’s a shotgun, he’s such a good damage-dealer, and if he can’t cope with it. That was Beau’s concern.” Travis: “And just to go along with your Magneto reference, Essek is one powerful person. Trent brings the acolytes. But we recognize that if we stop the Tombtakers and Lucien then we probably have to stop Trent and the Vollstruckers. But I wanted to open it to Caleb, because we gotta face that motherfucker at some point.”

Cosplay of the Week: an amazing Yasha! (krisjaded on Instagram, photography by adambenfer on Instagram)

On Beau’s plan to put a possible eavesdropper off their trail at Pumat’s: “I mean, everything is a long shot.” Taliesin suggested the idea. “I said Darktow because I thought, hey, if he tries to follow us to Darktow, he’ll probably get murdered. He’ll never make it back. We have no idea. It could have been completely transparent, or maybe he’ll be stupid enough to actually try it.”

Fan Art of the Week: a lovely Caduceus! (by arcanum.dice on Instagram)

How’s the relationship with Yasha been going? “It’s so new! And fresh and weird, and she’s trying to remember to be like, oh, that’s right! You’re my girlfriend! I owe you some attention, that’s right. It’s nice to have somebody. We were talking about not really having anyone to say goodbye to in this round of goodbyes, Beau is looking to the future and those relationships are keeping her afloat.”

On seeing more of Aeor, looking forward to it? Travis: “I really want them dead first. If collections of explorers and expeditions from the Cerberus Assembly and the Dynasty have turned up stuff they don’t know what to do with yet, what the fuck are a bunch of chuckle-dicks like us going to do with it?” They’re interested in a distant sort of way - there are bigger issues at hand.

Travis mentions that he’s never been quite so emotionally invested in the game before and notes that was at the root of his competitive attitude at the end of the last episode. “The lines were so blurred in that way. It’s just a testament to the never-ending learning process that comes from this game that I underestimated my entire life.”

[meili-sheep]

This has no affiliation with your already established thoughts, AUs, and headcanons so I don't mean to throw a wrench into that sort of thing. In short, I have a theory pertaining to why Diluc doesn't seem to be as affected by the Delusion as opposed to Teppei and Childe.

If you've read the Vennessa Lore, you know that she was aided by a Ragnvindr knight in her campaign against the aristocracy and that she became the first Grandmaster of the Ordo Favonius. We don't know if this dude joined the Knights afterward, but seeing as he renovated the bathhouses to become a library, it's safe to say that he was in proximity. You could easily make the claim that Vennessa and Ragnvindr's children would make the cut, but you can't because she didn't ascend to Celestia until she was at the end of her life.

However, before all of this, her clan was stalked by an 'Ursa the Drake'. This is the same one that attacked the wagon on that fateful night. Despite the fact that Ursa was bugged with something by the Fatui, I find it strange that this drake was around for so long, it stayed in the relative Mondstadt area, which is why I believe that he was ultimately used as a catalyst to wipe out Diluc Ragnvindr specifically.

Why? Why him? What was so crucial about them besides his future wealth, power, and prestige that would cause Dottore to go after him? And afterwards besides the fact that they were going to watch him tear their bases apart, why have they had eyes on him for so long?

Here's where it starts to get a little wonky:

Canonically, due to the Sakoku Decree, Vision holders fell into a depression and lost their ambition upon being split from their Visions. All except one. Arataki Itto, an oni as youkai in general are only partially human. The only other example in canon that we know of someone being fine without their Vision is Diluc when he went to go after the Fatui, suggesting that the ability to let go of one's Vision is partially down to it being hereditary.

However, there is one more thing I gotta point out.

In Diluc's lore, there is this specific quote: "A Vision is simply an extension of their strength, a medium for channeling their willpower, a tribute to the experiences that have shaped them, and a testament to the story of their life so far."

An extension of strength. A medium for channeling willpower. This, more or less, is how he uses his Vision. Suggesting that there is an unintentional conflation between power and willpower on his part alone.

He obtained his Vision at the youngest age we know of in canon.

So, there's only one inquiry left after that fact. I have scoured, looked, sought out, and could find no trace of whatsoever about one thing and one thing only: Diluc's mother. Who was she? Why is she never mentioned?

That is when we ask one more question:

Why is there such a heavy emphasis on the fact that he has a falcon for a pet?

This is possibly the most audacious claim that I have made in my life, but it is one nonetheless, and I believe that it makes sense The reason that he could take the Delusion and not be as affected by it as everyone else we've seen is because of one thing and one thing only:

Diluc is a straight-up demigod.

And how am I so sure of this?

The name 'Crepus' is derived from 'crepusculum' meaning 'dusk' or 'twilight' or 'darkness'. Dusk sets in the west.

In the game, we've hit some of the Four Winds, such as Dvalin, Andrius, and the buzzes of Boreas being next in line. Who does that leave us with who's left? The Falcon of the West. The same one that ascended to godhood all those years ago.

So in summary: Diluc Ragnvindr is the son of Vennessa.

In the case that you completely write this off, allow me to give you one last snippet of lore:

Kaeya was dropped off at the Ragnvindr house. Sure, it could have been because of the fact that they were the power, but the Khaenri'ahns were specifically averse to the gods in particular.

So it'd make perfect sense to plant one of their own to be able to kill a little demigod before he became a threat.

And scene. (bows)

I mean...

You must be new here because. I wrote a whole fic there where's It's Diluc's ties to Vennessa that lead him to being captured by the fatui.

I've also done a whole bunch of stuff about Ragnvindr and Vennessa being together. So I don't know know why you'd think I'd write you off. I'm literally the last person who is gonna say now. I actually didn't think of the delusion and vision points before but they are very good! I'd also like to add despite falcons not being common to mondstadt's region they are a heavy theme in the Ragnvindr family home.

I also have an idea where I've been with the idea of Diluc having more bird-like features. Ie he has wings and talons. Which he can hide at will.

But yeah! I love the idea!

[deltas-writing-corner]

Tsukumo Yuki relationship headcanons

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen

Pairing: Tsukumo Yuki x reader

Author note: Tsukomo Yuki is the reason I love woman and she can crush me between her thighs send tweet

Warnings: Potential manga spoilers (?) | Mentions of s*x, but nothing too blatantly explicit. I would still prefer it if minors did not interact with this post in any way.

Yuki always asks the people she meets what type of woman they like. If someone were to ask that same question back to her, she’ll most certainly utter back your name as if it were an obvious response.

What’s not to love about you? You’re cute. You make her laugh. You cook for her because heaven knows she can't if her life depended on it. Most importantly, you keep her company due to the lack of curses she’s ever sent to exorcise. Traveling the world is fun and all, but it’s even more fun with you by her side!

You’re not a sorcerer. You can’t even see curses. Yuki is a childhood friend of yours and has kept you in the loop regarding the world of jujutsu sorcery since she started integrating into it. She thinks it’s important for you to know that someone like you, a non-curse user who has no control over the curse energy you create, should know what exactly your negative emotions can lead to. It’s not to make you feel bad or pin blame on you in any way. It’s her way of protecting you beyond physical means as well as a way of showing you that she places a great deal of trust in you regarding the nature of her line of work and her true goals.

Because she rejects the methods of the higher-ups and her ideology is more along the lines of putting an end to the creation of curses permanently instead of letting them manifest and dealing with them when they start causing profound trouble, you’re often the one that has to listen to all her new, sometimes overreaching, hypotheses now and then. You may even take part in her research, but she would never put you in any sort of harm! At least, not unless you give her the okay to. Be warned, if you give your blessing to be her little lab rat she’s prone to get carried away with her methods. Speak up if she’s doing something outrageous or if she’s making you uncomfortable. Otherwise, you might end up in some precarious situations.

As mentioned previously, Yuki isn’t sent out on missions that often, if ever. She instead chooses to travel in and out of the country, for the sake of her research as well as for the pleasure of it. Since she’s one of three, later four, special grade sorcerers her salary is rather tremendous. Unfortunately, her travels outside Japan are “unauthorized” and sometimes her funds get frozen by the higher-ups. Her quick solution to the matter is to fly back, take on a mission or two to get her funds unfrozen (and into your account because you’re her partner-in-crime) or even take on a mission to earn some more funds, and then you and her are right back to traveling the world again.

During one of these money replenishing heists, she met a kid that she took a particular interest in and wanted to mentor, Aoi Todo. It’s hard for most people to spark her interest to the extent Todo did, so you happily supported her endeavors and even met with her young pupil a few times throughout the years. Her methods of training are a bit....extreme, to put it lightly. You understand that holding back her punches will only hinder Todo’s progress instead of allowing him the ability to improve and push past his limits, but you can’t help but flinch over the large scar that marks his face whenever you briefly meet up with him.

Todo is eccentric, but so is Yuki. Perhaps not idol obsessed like Todo, but seeing the way he takes great care of his appearance and flaunts his body (during a battle even), he’s a near-identical clone of Yuki. She knows that she’s good-looking, and she will always flaunt this fact to anyone with working eyes, even you! Does it work every single time? Yes. Yes, it does.

Honestly, how can it not? She’s tall. She has a great butt. She drives a motorcycle. Her tight biker pants are your Achilles heels and she knows it. Sometimes she’ll wear them around the house just to flaunt her curves and other bodily goods, even if it’s the middle of the summer, the AC is broken and the pants are made of stuffy leather material. If it gets your face all heated up, she'll wear it.

The compliments she gets from strangers are nice and all, but it’s your reactions she truly cares about. You’ve been by her side through it all. You're still sticking with her even despite the fact that she’s constantly moving around and living a somewhat free-spirited lifestyle. You genuinely support and help her when almost everyone else has rejected her methods and ideals and brush her off as some lazy, outrageous-thinking woman. Really, you stole this woman’s heart just by letting her be herself, a lazy, outrageous-thinking woman.

Yuki is indeed lazy, to the point it sometimes affects you and your shared apartment is left in a week-long accumulated mess. I’m talking clothes strewed about and spilling out the already full laundry basket, sink filled with dirty dishes, houseplant half dead due to insufficient watering, and little dusty bunnies in the corner of the room. Whenever you try to get around to getting your living space in order, she always drags you back to the bed with her either to nap some more or for a quick round of sex that leads to more napping. Eventually, you have to beat her with a pillow and threaten her with no sex for a certain period of time to get her to back off, which always works without fail.

If you really hold the “no sex until...” ultimatum over her head long enough, she’ll even pitch in and help you clean. But to be honest she kinda sucks at it so it’s sometimes better to just have her sit on the sidelines while you do all the work. She’ll jokingly suggest you clean with just an apron on (because she’s a freak like that), but you haven’t taken her up on the suggestion just yet. It’s mostly because you’ll use the “naked apron” method to further insinuate her punishment if your usual threat begins to lose its potency (because you are also a freak like that).

She’s a bad sleeping partner. Not only does she hog all the blankets and pillows, but she even stretches out her limbs over the entire bed. This usually leaves you curled up in a corner shivering your ass off until you either fall asleep via exhaustion or move to the couch. If you go to the couch, she’s 99.9% likely to wake up and join you shortly after, where she’s less of a hassle to deal with because of the limited space.

She’s a great big spoon, which is actually one of the ways you later use to solve her troublesome habits as once she latches onto you, she will not let go the rest of the evening. Unfortunately, she also snores terribly loud, but it’s nothing earbuds can’t fix.

Some might think she sleeps in something flattering, maybe even a bit scanty. That couldn’t be any further from the truth. Her pj’s are decades-old shirts and gym shorts that she never got around to getting rid of. If not that, she’ll sleep completely naked and she doesn’t care if someone walks in on her with the covers off. She’ll only ever wear lingerie or other promiscuous pieces of clothing if she has intentions of getting between your legs and rocking your world for the rest of the night.

I think it goes without saying that she looks great in lace, but as hot as she may look, she really likes seeing you dressed up in something risque as well.

If you’re female, she sometimes likes to wear matching lingerie sets with you, but her favorite material to see you in is leather, especially those harness-styled sets that squeeze your flesh all around.

If you’re male, she’s a complete sucker for a man in a clean-cut, custom-tailored suit and will take it off as soon as you put it on. Hope you don’t mind losing a button or two, because she will pop them off for sure when she rips your dress shirt off of you.

To all my gender-neutral folks, It’s never too late to whip out that naked apron I mentioned earlier! Or a leather jacket. Everyone looks great in a leather jacket!

Yuki’s diet is fucking terrible. You’re a decent cook, but despite this, all she ever seems to want is greasy take-out food that makes you wonder how the hell she’s still so fit after witnessing her down three chicken burritos in one sitting. Even when the two of you are abroad and are able to try out different types of cuisines not so readily available in Japan, she’ll still want to go out to a fast food joint that you can easily find everywhere. You’ve tried to get her to branch out of her comfort zone and eat somewhat healthier alternatives of her favorite foods, but so far you’ve gotten mixed results.

In summary: Yuki is a pretty outgoing person and sometimes can be a bit of a hassle to deal with, but she’s clearly ambitious and moves to the tune of her own beat. Her goal of finding and effectively eliminating the source of all curses is a testament to the fact that she wants to save future generations from having to carry the burden sorcerers have been carrying for thousands of years. Her goals are not only for the sake of the people who will come after her, but also for the sake of her future with you. You’re someone she genuinely cares for and wishes to spend the rest of her life with, evident by the numerous times she’s come clean to you about her fears of you dying when she isn't around to protect you or of her dying and leaving you behind to mourn during late-night pillow talks in hotels or in your shared home. A future where you and her can travel the world and truly take in and enjoy the sights and wonders instead of searching for an answer to one of the world’s greatest phenomenon is a future worth fighting for, even if she’s met with some pushback or the end goal seems like nothing more than a pipedream at times. So long as you’re there with her to see her research bear fruit, she’ll keep testing and coming up with new methods to eliminate curses permanently, no matter the extremes her research takes her to.

[kaizokuou-ni-naru]

The Voyage So Far: Wano (Part Two)

east blue (1 | 2) || alabasta (1 | 2) || skypiea || water 7 || enies lobby || thriller bark || paramount war (1 | 2) || fishman island || punk hazard || dressrosa (1 | 2) || whole cake island || wano (1 | 2)

okay so the wano flashback is possibly my favorite in the whole series for a whole bunch of different reasons, and oden as a character is a big part of why. honestly, i think he’s great. he’s wildly entertaining and ridiculously likable, just like a folk hero should be.

i care about oden and the akazaya nine a lot. they have one of my favorite found family dynamics in the whole series, up there with the strawhats themselves- a bunch of thugs and castoffs who wound up gathering around this one wildly charismatic moron and deciding to be stronger and better for him. 

i think they really feel like a family, in these little moments we get of them just interacting and messing around, and it only makes later events- oden’s death, the twenty-year separation, kanjurou’s betrayal- hurt all the worse.

on god it is the funniest thing on earth to me that this is how oden and izou wound up on whitebeard’s ship. 

the roger pirates!! i really really like the roger pirates!! i love that there’s this entire predecessor crew who are both absolutely fucking fascinating from a lore perspective and who are just all individually really good characters with really fun relationships. the dynamics we get to see just in this brief part of the flashback are absolutely delightful. i think the fact that i would read a whole series just about the roger pirates is a testament to oda’s character writing. 

there’s a specific sort of tragedy to the roger pirates, and i think it really hits home in their last few pages in this flashback. by all appearances, they were a crew just as close-knit as the strawhats are. they cared about each other a lot- that ship was their home.

and then their captain died, and they just- fell apart. 

awhile back, in my sabaody post, i talked about how we get to know roger first as a story and then as a character by getting to meet characters who knew him personally. to the rest of the world, roger is a story, a name to curse or a height to aspire to. but for shanks and rayleigh and crocus and buggy and all the rest of the roger pirates, he was their captain. 

the whole wano flashback, possibly more than any of the others in the series, really feels to me like a story being told, a folk tale being passed down, which makes sense, since it’s canonically framed as oden’s diary entries. and i think that framing device just adds so much to the atmosphere of this entire section of story, the feeling of myth and legend to it. 

i honestly really like how oden’s death is handled. i have trouble articulating it, but it’s so much, so over the top, so heavily set up and foreshadowed- a legendary death for a legendary man, if that makes sense.

toki’s prophecy is one of my favorite motifs in this whole arc. wano is all about a country that’s been trapped and dying for years and years, holding out desperate hope for salvation. toki is the one who gave them that hope. she doesn’t try to tell them that everything will be okay, she says it will be dark and the darkness will be long, but the dawn will come, and even though she gave her life to do that, she did it smiling. 

without toki, the wano arc never would have happened, because there would be no future to fight for. 

this panel is the header on my favorite op discord server and sometimes i just scroll up and stare at it. it’s so good. 

this entire sequence, starting from luffy law and kidd’s entrance, is probably my favorite in wano arc. it’s the turning of the sides, the daybreak after the darkest hour- these three show up, and then jinbe, and denjirou reveals his true colors and it’s revealed all the rest of the samurai left before orochi blew the bridges, and it turns out they haven’t lost a single step to kanjurou’s treachery. it just feels so good to read, after the prior hopelessness of the akazaya and the tragedy of the flashback.

i really like how the akazaya nine are absolutely ready to roast each other at any and all times. that’s how you know they’re best friends. 

i think i mentioned it back in fishman island, but one of my favorite things is the strawhats just being absolutely cheerfully, chaotically destructive. every time we get to see them wreck havoc while nonchalantly bickering with each other it puts a huge smile on my face.

i think ulti and page one are very very funny and i like their dynamic a lot, it’s a laugh riot. i also like that oda lets luffy seriously fight a woman here!! i’m serious, we don’t see enough no-holds-barred fights between men and women (conventionally attractive women, specifically) in this series, so i’m pleasantly surprised when it does happen. 

i do appreciate wano’s ability to continuously raise the “holy shit!” quotient without it ever really feeling like a twist just for the sake of the audience. like, i don’t know that anybody saw kaidou killing orochi coming, but at the same time, it feels like it does make sense, given what we know about kaidou, for him to do this.

my heart goes out to momo, honestly. he’s only eight, and in that time he’s lost his home and family and his whole world when he was thrown twenty years into the future, and he has the weight of his whole country resting on his shoulders. he’s borne up admirably under that stress, starting from zou and building up to this point.

i LOVE kin’emon’s speech to kaidou about luffy SO much. kin’emon’s come a long way from being a mostly comedy relief character in punk hazard to here, where he’s shouting down an emperor. i really like this progression- kin’emon doesn’t change, exactly, but the side of his character that is revealed in wano is very likable and admirable. it goes back to something i’ve mentioned before, about how one piece’s characters are very rarely one-dimensional.

kaidou’s dragon form is extremely cool, and so are most of the panels where it appears- it’s extremely striking, especially in panels like this, where he’s silhouetted against the moon.

i love... the ripple effects of luffy just being himself that spread throughout the world of one piece, and i think this is one of the best examples. luffy befriended coby all the way back in chapter two, mostly by accident, and now, nine hundred and some chapters later, that’s what leads to drake joining the strawhats’ side. because drake is friends with coby who says luffy is trustworthy, so when drake is stuck with nobody else to turn to, he turns to luffy. 

moments like this really reinforce just how much the world and story of one piece is built on relationships between people, and i really like that. i like that instead of necessarily being built around abstract ideals or morals, characters’ actions are, more often than not, motivated by either specific personal goals or by their relationships with other characters. it feels much more true to life.

i like the loss of kiku’s arm, because it showcases exactly how serious the fight is on both sides. it both shows that kaidou is fighting to maim and kill and do whatever it takes to win, and that the akazaya are fully prepared to take whatever he throws at them. kiku gets back up smiling after losing her arm. neither side in this fight is even close to backing down, now or ever. 

i genuinely can’t believe how long it took me to talk about yamato, so let me just say: i love him so much. part of this, i’m sure, is my personal bias towards any and all kickass queer characters, but part of it is just- he’s so cool. he’s ten feet tall and carries a club about as big as he is and tanks explosions like they’re nothing while also bickering with luffy and falling out of ceilings and generally being like... stupidly lovable. 

i just like yamato a lot. 

a thousand chapters in, and every strawhat but robin has had a moment where they declare luffy is going to be the king of the pirates, but honestly, i think nami’s might be my favorite yet. nami has always been a person who acts at a distance, not one inclined to direct confrontation and putting herself in danger-

and yet, when it comes down to it, when faced with a choice between death and disavowing her captain’s dream, even when assured by usopp that she would be fully justified in lying for her life, nami chooses luffy. even in the most dire of circumstances, all of the strawhats know luffy is going to be the king of the pirates, and none of them would ever deny it.

i kind of alluded to this back in my dressrosa post, but i really like the development of law’s new dream being discovering the meaning of the will of d. it just feels like a very good and natural progression for his character, given he’s the only holder of the will of d who we’ve been shown is consciously aware of it and what it might mean. and in general, i like seeing him having something else to work towards after doflamingo’s defeat.

i’ll end this by just saying i am so desperately curious to know what is in that book, and what yamato knows about the will of d, about the dawn of the world, about laugh tale. 

guess we’ll find out, huh?

thanks for reading through to the end!! i had a lot of fun putting these posts together, and writing them up was a really cool way to be able to compile my thoughts headed into chapter 1000 and beyond. i can’t wait to see where oda takes us next. 

[ot7always]

Forget-me-not

Word Count: 7.4k

Pairing: Namjoon x Reader

Genre: Village!AU. Angst. Seriously, it hurts.

Warnings: Mentions of war. Death, grief.

Rating: PG-15

Summary: As much as this had always been a possibility, you never thought that one day your best friend would actually be stolen from you. 

A/N: This fic is part of my 1k Milestone Requests that was picked randomly out of the pool of requests I got!! Thank you to the lovely @jinpanman​ for sending such an interesting request in!! When I started writing this I had just come off of writing so much fluff, so I thought: I guess it’s time to write ANGST and this physically hurt me fhkfldhgf 

--

“Y/N!” a voice called out loudly from downstairs, startling you enough to drop your sewing needle into the mess of fabric on your lap. Your sister had once again managed to tear one of her dresses running around doing whatever it was she did with the neighbour’s youngest son. Not that you could have boasted any more appropriate behaviour when you were her age.

“Just a moment, mother!” you responded, eyeing the damage. Truly, it wasn’t as bad as she made it sound when she came to you in a panic, dirt on her hands and tears on her cheeks. Surely it couldn’t take you more than a few minutes to fix.

“Come now, love! There’s a messenger from the capital outside!”

That had your brows furrowing instantly. A messenger? Here? Surely your relatively small, riverside village was of nearly no importance to the capital aside from paying the annual taxes.

“Coming!” you shouted, rising quickly and tossing the garment onto the chair behind you. The sewing could certainly wait, whereas the capital did not wait for anyone. It was possible the messenger had already started his spiel, and you were much too nosy a person to sit at home while something interesting was happening.

You slipped into your shoes quickly before rushing downstairs and out the door, hoping you still appeared as put together as you had that morning. Perhaps you should have thanked your mother before running full-speed toward the village’s centre, but it was much too late for that now.

When you arrived, a well-dressed man was already standing in the centre of a crowd, luckily only seeming to have just begun speaking.

“-sends his regards from the capital, but also his deepest apologies.”

Before you could ponder his words much, a sudden towering presence beside you stole your concentration for a moment.

Dark brown hair unruly, coat hastily done up, boots unlaced – how Kim Namjoon managed to make looking like a total mess a fashionable statement, you could never understand. But according to the whispers you heard as you went about your day, his unkempt, boyish manliness had stolen many ladies’ hearts in your little village. You would almost be annoyed, if not for the fact that he was so oblivious.

He shot a quick, dimpled smile your way, returned by one of your own before you both concentrated on the man’s speech once again.

“-army had taken a massive hit after the last war. As you know, that was only one year ago, and we have yet to recover properly after the close victory. And it appears that Reina is looking to take advantage of this.”

Reina. A country nearly 2 weeks away by horse, one who recently allied with Xenia through marriage, who your Kingdom’s army had barely defeated last year.

Unease settled over the crowd immediately. You grabbed for Namjoon’s arm instinctively, his hand raising to cover your own only a second later. This couldn’t possibly be what you thought it was, right?

“War appears to be imminent, and it can only be so much longer before tensions snap. We cannot let the Kingdom fall without a fight, and we are calling on all of our allies for assistance. But it is not enough.”

You sucked in a breath.

“The capital has decreed for all able-bodied man over 20 years of age to report for training and assignment. Women may volunteer to join the forces.”

Whispers and hushed cries of disbelief rang out through the crowd, but were quickly quieted by the continued announcements.

“You are expected to be in the capital within one weeks’ time. You may report to me for additional details. That is all.”

You turned to Namjoon with a helpless expression colouring your face, but the one on his was already one of resignation. Every man knew this could always be a possibility – hell, the same thing had happened only years ago for similar reasons, though that that time, your best friend had been too young to be conscripted.

But not this time.

“Namjoon-”

“It’ll be fine,” he cut in quickly, trying to quell the steadily rising despair taking over your features.

It seemed that the other men in the crowd felt the same sort of sad acceptance, hushing their daughters, wives, and friends in the same way.

As much as you might as joked to anyone who asked that Namjoon was nothing more than a nuisance, you hardly went a day without seeing him. His family home was only down the street – a fact you’d learned only days after you grew old enough to play with the other children on your own.

His tiny body had come barreling into your smaller one in a rush, sending your 6-year-old figure straight into a nearby bush. And as any young girl would do after having torn the new dress gifted to you only weeks earlier, to no fault of her own, you recalled throwing quite the tantrum.

You only saw more and more of him after he brought you to his home in a hurry, pushing you towards his mother in a wordless plea to fix whatever problem he caused. And so she mended your dress, urged you to return for tea the next day, and thus began your odd relationship with the clumsy boy.

You were not quite fast friends, your friendship with his mother developing much more quickly than any relationship with him. The younger you was quite adept at holding a grudge, and you didn’t dare forget that this was the boy that almost ruined your birthday present.

But, as children did, you got over it before long, especially after learning that you would be attending the same classes that same year. While a year older than you, an unfortunate illness had befallen him two years prior, holding him back several months.

After weeks of taking the exact same walk to and from school, you’d warmed up to the boy quite a bit. He liked to show you his strange collection of rocks, and in exchange you showed him your collection of fabrics you’d collected from old clothing and blankets over the years. The fact that you’d acted interested in each other's odd habits must have been a testament to your strengthening bond.

Spending your days with him became second nature over time, right up until he’d grown at least a head taller than you and become more man than boy.

You’d seen each other through almost all of life’s troubles; studying together in a harried panic, hurriedly throwing together gifts for birthdays you’d forgotten, and eventually cheering each other on in finding an occupation for yourself.

It must have been a surprise to the other villagefolk that it was you who had become the teacher, and not Namjoon, because it was him dazzling your teachers with grand speeches and uncanny wisdom for his age. Though they could not be surprised long, for it was Namjoon who spent many months of the year in neighbouring villages, and sometimes even the capital, studying to be a doctor.

There were few people in your village with the capabilities to study such a profession, but Namjoon excelled. He preferred not to boast of his abilities, but you heard frequently from your mother that many travellers sung his praises. Your best friend was a rare gem whose future appeared to span far beyond the tiny walls of your village.

Which was why you could not simply accept that he would go off to war, possibly never to be seen again.

“How can you be okay with this? How are you not panicking? Namjoon, I-”

You were unaware of your rising volume until steady hands settled on your shoulders, moving to shield you from the curious eyes now pointed in your direction. How could he possibly take care for your reputation when the country was asking him to give up his life?

“We always knew this might happen some day, Y/N. You know it as well as I do.” His words were firm, but his eyes spoke different words, pained words. Words that he could not say here, for to publicly voice his displeasure would not be taken well. Especially not when so many of the men around you had already gone to war and returned.

He was right that you knew this could happen – you would be a fool not to realize such a thing. Even your father had been lost to war when you were only a child, as is the reality for many children in your village. But did that make this any easier to bear? No person could say that preparing for a possible goodbye made the event any less gut wrenching.

“I’m worried for you,” you eventually whispered, head tipping back to stare into those eyes that had become a constant in your daily life, eyes that, one week from now, you might never see again. That thought sent a new wave of dread through your very being, a hole opening in your chest at the thought of Namjoon riding off, never to be seen again.

“Y/N,” he said, squeezing your shoulders in an attempt to pull you out of your head and back into this moment with him. “I need to speak with the messenger. Will you wait for me by the pond?”

You could only nod mutely, afraid that if you were to open your mouth, the only thing that would come out would be more words of displeasure.

“I’ll come as soon as I can okay?” he asked gently, voice filled with compassion. A part of you was ashamed that he was here comforting you when it was his life on the line.

When you didn’t make to move on your own, the hands still on your shoulders nudged you to turn around, further words of assurance falling from his lips.

It was as though you had been possessed. Your mind felt suddenly blank, your chest empty, your movements not your own. You hadn’t even realized you were approaching the pond near your home until the water was glistening right in front of you.

You stood as close to the water as one would dare, what with the notoriously slippery rocks at your feet. You stared at your reflection in the crystal-clear shallows before you, as though she could tell you how to deal with this situation. And as you watched your skirts sway gently in the spring breeze, you wondered if your eyes appeared as empty as your soul felt in this moment.

Being here only spurred up more shared memories. Summers spent playing in the water, digging up insects, even chasing each other over the wet rocks, much to the disdain of your mother.

Not only that – this place felt safe. It was where you came when you were upset, where you always were when Namjoon came looking for you to make things better. It was where you found him when he was contemplating whether he was fit to be a doctor, where you assured him that he was the most intelligent person you knew of.

Without even realizing it, you had begun digging up every good memory you had with Namjoon, as though to mourn them before you’ve even lost him.

It seemed that a part of you had already accepted the possibility of losing him forever, already accepted that as many memories as you had together, you might never have the chance to make any more.

But rather than sadness, sorrow – all you felt was a gaping emptiness within you as you stared, unblinking, unseeing, into the water before you.

Was something wrong with you, not to feel? Someone akin to family was about to be ripped away from you, yet your eyes were dry. Shouldn’t you be screaming, sobbing? Didn’t he deserve at least that?

“Y/N.”

You didn’t have the slightest idea how much time had passed before Namjoon was calling your name, snapping you out of your thoughts.

You turned slowly before meeting his eyes, the distance between you unusually large. He appeared as though he didn’t know what to do with himself, as though you hadn’t spent over 15 years at each other’s side. He looked to be brimming with words he wanted to say to you, but his eyes remained fixed on you, his mouth shut.

“So?” you managed to force out, voice sounding distant even to your own ears.

He only gave you a pained smile in response, closing the space between you and eventually sitting next to the place you stood. When he patted the ground at your feet, you joined him.

Minutes went by with both of you silent, gazes staring blankly across the water, as though failing to address the subject at hand would render it nonexistent.

However, patience was never your strong suit, and you could not hold your tongue any longer, even if you would only receive bad news in return. Though, it appeared Namjoon had the same idea.

“What-”

“I-”

As quickly as you had both opened your mouths, you had stopped talking. A slight smile finally cracked your stony expression as you met Namjoon’s eye, his expression sheepish, as though he could have known he was going to cut you off.

“You first,” you chuckled, tension seemingly broken as you watched Namjoon collect his thoughts.

“I spoke to the messenger...” he started, taking another breath as you acknowledged him with a low hum. “He told me I would be able to work with the doctors there.”

You perked up immediately at his words, hope blooming in your chest. “So you won’t have to fight?”

But the troubled expression on his face told you it wasn’t that simple.

“Not on the front-lines, but I’ll have to be close by. Wherever they decide to send me.”

“You’ll be in the camps.”

“Right.”

That coiling feeling in your gut returned. “And the camps get raided often.”

“Right,” he murmured. “I could...”

“You could die.” You cut him off with a whisper, turning your head away to hide your furrowed brows, nails digging into your forearm as though the physical pain could ease the burden in your heart. “How are you not more upset?”

“Part of me always expected for this day to come,” he sighed, hand drawing senseless patterns into the rocks at his feet. “As a man in a country at war, it’s like I was born just to die.”

“Don’t say that. Why do you accept your death so easily?” you forced out through gritted teeth, burying the sorrow in your chest that was creeping up your throat, threatening to burst at the seams. Did he value himself so lowly that it was so easy to throw his life away for his country?

“There’s nothing I can do about this, you know that,” he said lowly.

“I know,” you replied simply. You did. But that didn’t mean you could accept it so easily. You should have been more like him, should have expected that this might eventually happen to the two of you, but too much of you didn’t want to think about a reality without your best friend in it. Perhaps it was naïve and foolish of you, but you were happier thinking that the time you had with Namjoon was not defined by an hourglass that tipped at the notion of war.

The silence that followed was heavy, the emotions that laid between you more than words could express.

To think that his hulking presence in this place you grew up together – when he visited you in the classroom with treats for the children, when he ran through the village streets with your sister on his back – to think that one week from now, those might just be memories, never to be seen before you again. Was it selfish to mourn how lonely you would be without him?

You thought you could hold yourself together until you returned home, but it was the arm circling around your shoulders and the words that came next from his lips that broke you.

“Will you remember me well?”

It was as though the single thread holding you together snapped, sorrow rearing its ugly head as tears spilled from your eyes. You kept your face from him, but no matter how quietly you cried, the heaving of your shoulders, gave you away.

Namjoon didn’t comment, only pulling you closer so that your head could rest on his shoulder.

“You’re so stupid,” you sobbed, voice strained as you angrily wiped at the tears on your face. “I hate you.”

You swore you heard Namjoon snort at that. After all, he heard that phrase from you at least 5 times per week.

“I know, I know.”

You finally turned towards him, but before he could get a good look at you, you buried your face in his chest and wrapped your arms around him. When you realized that this could be one of the last times you held him close like this, another strangled cry was wrenched from your throat.

He didn’t dare comment on how tightly you were holding him, nor how wet the front of his shirt was becoming.

Another comment on how well he was keeping himself together was on the tip of your tongue before you felt the shuddering of his body beneath you.

Namjoon was a silent crier if you’d ever seen one, and if not for the breath catching in his throat, it would have been hard for anyone to tell without seeing him.

You didn’t know how long you sat there like that, half-sprawled across his body, tears falling until there was nothing more for your body to give. Namjoon’s hands trembled in their place on your back, and you wished more than anything that you could make this easier on him somehow. It was his life on the line, after all, and not yours.

“Y/N,” he whispered, the sound wrought with emotion.

You pulled from him enough to meet his eyes, the pain you found there a reflection of your own. His hand rose to wipe at the wetness on your cheeks before moving to lace his fingers with your own.

“Take care of my mother for me. Please.”

You nodded gravely, reaching for his other hand as well. “Of course,” you replied, breaking eye contact lest you fall apart all over again. “Only until you get back.”

“Only until I get back.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you noted the setting sun above the tall trees surrounding you, though you still had no grasp on how long you had been here together. Everything felt to be a blur of fear and despair.

“When do you leave?” you asked.

“In five days.”

You nodded. Five days left with your best friend before you had to send him off to a war he might not return from. You were certain those days would be spent busy right from dawn until dusk, but you would steal whatever moments with him you could.

You eventually returned to your original position sitting beside him, facing the water as a slight breeze sent a shiver through you.

“We should head back soon,” he said, but he didn’t sound to want to leave very much. “It’s getting dark.”

“Stay with me a while longer,” you murmured, reaching for his hand.

So he did.

--

The days following passed in a whirlwind. Despite your dedication to spending as much time with Namjoon as possible before his departure, it proved difficult with the preparations he had to make. Writing letters to his colleagues, saying goodbye to old teachers, securing a horse, packing his belongings – there was unfortunately not much time left for the two of you to simply spend with each other, though you stole what moments you could.

It was almost surreal, what you felt in that time. You couldn’t help the tears that came that night after the pond when your mother held you. Since then, it had almost been an endless cycle of sorrow followed by emptiness, over and over and over.

But the morning before Namjoon would set out on his own, you were determined not to break down again. You were determined that you would send him off with a smile, no matter how difficult it would be to manifest one. He deserved to leave on a good note, not having to comfort you yet again right before he left. You should be the one making him feel better, not the other way around. You would support him as best you could, and momentarily put aside the worst-case scenarios that had been circling through your head ever since the words came from that messenger’s mouth.

“Were you waiting long?” came a voice from behind you.

Turning around, you smiled as you met Namjoon’s eyes, his body already clad in a riding outfit and sturdy boots. It looked good on him.

“Not at all.”

The two of you had decided to spend the last of his time in the village together at the pond. It felt fitting – it was a place ever-present in your childhood memories together, a place you felt a strong emotional attachment to. Not only that, it was peaceful here. Quiet. Perfect.

“Sit with me,” you said, settling yourself in the grass beside a basket you brought with you.

“Is that what I think it is?” he questioned, clearly trying to keep the childish excitement from his voice, though failing.

When you removed the cloth covering what laid within, you had to keep yourself from laughing at Namjoon’s sudden intake of breath.

“Apple pie, fresh from the oven about... an hour ago?” you hummed nonchalantly, not bothering to hide your grin at his excitement. “It’s not exactly breakfast, but I thought you would appreciate it. You can take what’s left with you.”

“You really know how to cheer up a guy, don’t you?” he breathed, sending a reverent ‘thank you’ as you handed it over to him.

As he distracted himself with the pie, you took the chance to study him.

You quickly dispelled the thought that you had to memorize his face now, burn the picture into your memory while you could.

What startled you was that he looked... happy. Well – as happy as he could be considering the situation, but truly, he looked content. As though accepting his fate was no difficult thing, as though he wasn’t leaving his family behind within hours.

Perhaps you should not have been so surprised, though, as Namjoon had always been someone who adapted well to change and thrived wherever he went. All you could do now was have faith that that would hold true now.

“Something on my face?” he teased, snapping you out of your thoughts before darting a slightly embarrassed glance his way.

“Just thinking.”

“About?”

“How much I’m going to miss you.”

A flash of pain went through his gaze before he snapped his head down to hide it. A pang of guilt shot through you at the sight.

“I’m sorry,” you hastened. “I promised myself not to be negative today, I just...”

“Can’t stop thinking about it, right?” he mumbled.

“Yes,” you whispered, reaching for his hand as you pushed the leftovers of the pie out of your way. “But it’s okay. You’re so stubborn I know you’ll come back.”

Your words had their intended effect, those dimples you’d come to grow and love making their appearance again as he exhaled a laugh. The momentary joy you saw there, though, was quickly put away and replaced by an expression you couldn’t quite read.

“Y/N,” he said, his tone sounding unsure and entirely unlike him. A furrow worked its way between your brows immediately and you were about to comment on his apparent nervousness, but he spoke up before you could. “I need to tell you something.”

“Hm?” you responded, caught off guard. “Okay, sure. What is it?”

“I... This is – Well...” he stuttered, taking you off guard even more. Anything that rendered Namjoon an ineloquent speaker must have been weighing heavily on his mind.

“Namjoon?” you prodded, tone laced with concern. You had never been one to mince words with each other, and so his inability to come out with what he was thinking was unusual.

“I’m sorry for doing this to you right now,” he blurted out in what must have been half a breath. “But I don’t want to leave here with any regrets, you know? In case... well, you know...”

“You’re scaring me,” you said, your heartbeat increasing already just from watching him fumble around with his words.

“I know, I’m sorry,” he breathed. “But before I go, I just have to tell you that I...”

He took a long pause then, several moments passing as he gathered himself. Just as you were about to cut in again, he said the words all at once, almost too fast for you to process.

“I love you.”

You spent a moment staring at him blankly as you registered what he said.

But once you did, you were left no less confused than you were before.

“I love you too, Joon, you should know that-”

“No,” he interrupted loudly, wincing slightly in apology when you jumped in surprise. “That’s... that’s not what I meant.”

That’s not what he meant? What else could he have possibly-

Wait.

Namjoon spotted the exact moment you realized exactly what he meant by his words, confusion, realization, then confusion again flashing in your eyes.

It was silent for several moments as you simply stared at him, no part of you knowing what to do with this knowledge.

“What?” was what you settled on, and you inwardly cursed yourself for not having anything better to say.

He gave a bit of a self-deprecating laugh then, and something in your gut wrenched knowing you were the cause of that sound. He broke eye contact, bravery seemingly used up, instead staring blankly into the water.

“I know it’s unfair to tell you this now, and honestly,” he paused as his lips upturned in a mirthless grin. “I don’t really know why I did. It doesn’t change anything.”

You wanted so badly to be able to comfort him, but you couldn’t tell whether your touch would just make it worse.

“I-I don’t know what to say, I never-”

“I know you don’t feel the same way. I just had to get it off my chest since...”

He let his words trail off, both of you already knowing what he was referring to. There was no use saying the same thing again and again.

“I never thought about it,” you whispered, glancing over at Namjoon in a new light. In love with you? You couldn’t say there was never a moment where you thought you and him could be together like that – you'd spent much of your life together, after all. But it was never something you’d entertained seriously, never something you allowed to linger in your brain.

“I know,” he said, and you ignored the way his voice cracked at the end of the phrase. “I just didn’t think our story would end like this, you know?”

“Namjoon...”

“I thought I’d have time to muster up the courage, time to make you fall in love with me too,” he continued. “You always told me I was naïve.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. I should have said something earlier, stopped hiding, stopped pretending...” He sighed. “There’s no use dwelling on it now. Find someone who makes you happy, okay?”

It was as though all of the words had been stolen from your body. You didn’t know what you could possibly say to him, how you could possibly ease his pain. And despite not having known, you couldn’t help the guilt that washed over you. You were the one causing him this pain, you were the one somehow too oblivious to see something in the man you claimed to know everything about. And at the same time, you wished he said something before, because now was too late – whether you could have been happy together didn’t matter now. Fate was cruel with her strings.

“Y/N.” His stern tone broke you free from your thoughts. “It doesn’t bother me now, okay? I just... couldn’t leave with secrets.”

“I understand,” you responded, though you could not stop thinking on the notion. What you might have been together had he not been called to war, had he had time to enact his grand plan to win your heart.

But none of that mattered now.

After several minutes of heavy silence, his voice startled you out of your melancholy.

“I need to say goodbye to my mother.” He stood, offering you a hand to join him.

“I’ll walk you,” you offered quietly, not letting go of his hand. He didn’t comment on it.

You felt almost dazed after his confession, the two of you arriving at Namjoon’s family home within what felt like seconds.

When you looked up at him he was staring at you quizzically, and you quickly removed your hand from his own.

“Will you meet me at the gates in a half hour?”

The gates. The place where you would say goodbye to your best friend, not knowing if or when you would hear from or see him again. You pushed down the dread once again, determined to show a brave face.

“Of course,” you replied weakly, sending him a smile that surely didn’t meet your eyes.

Before he could express his worry at your behaviour, you patted him on the back as you set out for the gates.

--

The entrance to your village was a beautiful place – surely the most beautiful in the entire area. One of the village teachers had a special gift for horticulture, tending to the hedges and flowers almost every day. You had tried your best to help him when you were young, though it was quickly proven that despite your love for flowers, you lacked the ability to care for them properly.

The primroses were in full bloom, the array of colours surrounding you from where you sat in the grass. The butterflies were rampant this time of year, enough that some of the grumpier citizens likened them to pests. But you had always admired their beauty, silken wings of white, yellow, and orange fluttering gently through the warm breeze.

Perhaps such painful goodbyes could be made slightly easier in scenery such as this.

The grass was soft where you sat waiting, nothing like the thick, pointed blades near the pond. You allowed your fingers to trail through the greenery on either side of you, closing your eyes and tipping your head back to greet the warmth of the sun, only having just taken its place in the morning sky.

You didn’t move even as you heard the clacking of hooves on cobblestone, as footsteps approached and arms wrapped around your shoulders from behind.

He was warm, and safe, and alive, and you would give anything and everything to keep him that way.

But sheer will and sacrifice could not win a war, no matter what the folk tales claimed.

You allowed yourself to relax into his hold, despite the awkward position of Namjoon hovering above you.

You didn’t remember doing it, but at some point, you must have pulled him down with you. Because the next thing you knew you were in his lap, face hidden away in his chest as you trembled, holding back tears.  

The hands on your back and on your head almost hurt in the way they were crushing you to him, but you didn’t dare complain, not when you were doing the same to him. Not when this one moment needed to last you until you could see him again.

If you could see him again.

But now was not the time to explore that train of thought once again.

Pull yourself together and be strong. For him.

Forcing yourself to take several deep breaths, you eventually pulled away from him enough to look into his eyes for the first time since he walked up.

You didn’t know whether to be happy or sad that the deep brown of his eyes held only a resigned acceptance, lips upturned in a smile that looked more self-deprecating than anything.

Neither of you dared to break the silence, and it dawned on you then that to anyone else, you might have looked like lovers, wrapped together amongst the flowers, gazes locked.

Yes, fate was cruel with her strings.

The bell from the clocktower several blocks away was what broke you free of the moment, your heart dropping in your chest when you processed what you’d heard.

The seventh hour.

He had to leave now.

You stood up wordlessly, almost as though you were in a trance. You couldn’t bring yourself to lift your head up, staring intently at your feet.

“Y/N.” His voice came with a gentle hand on your cheek, tilting your head up to keep you from hiding any longer. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

Don’t make promises you can’t keep.

“Okay,” you whispered, covering his hand with both of your own.

A moment passed before you led him to where his horse was waiting. You managed to crack a smile at the sight of the remnants of your pie bagged and tied messily to the saddle. With a knot like that, you were dubious that it would make it to the capital in one piece without being left behind.

You clung to his bicep the entire time you walked the horse past the gates, your fingers digging into the flesh as though you had the power to keep him there.

His hands moved to cup beneath your jaw, tilting your head up to meet his eyes one last time before he left.

You didn’t even blink as his gaze darted across every inch of your face, memorizing it as if he didn’t see you in his dreams every night already.

“I guess this is it,” he murmured, allowing his thumb to stroke mindlessly along the soft skin of your jaw.

It wasn’t often that he got to touch you like this, and he would make this one moment last a lifetime if you would let him.

He gave you a smile then that was small but as genuine as you’d ever seen it, and your face was lighting up in return before you even gave it any thought.

You only nodded, afraid in that moment of what would leave your lips if you dared to part them.

His hands left you slowly, leaving warmth in their wake. When he turned his back to you, about to climb atop his horse, you didn’t know what came over you then. The warmth, the pain, emotion you couldn’t put into words – something in you snapped.

You saw the breath leave him in a sigh, and right as his leg begun to raise from the ground-

“Wait!” you yelled, yanking his arm to turn him back around, a yelp leaving him as he almost lost his balance.

His eyes were wide with alarm, but you didn’t give him the chance to ask what you were doing before you threw yourself at him.

When your lips met, sparks didn’t fly, nor did time slow to a pause.

But something within you blossomed at the touch, a hand raising to rest against the nape of his neck even as he stood frozen with shock. His hands hovered in the air as his mind struggled to catch up, struggled to process the fact that you were kissing him.

Just as you were about to spring away from him, concerned by his utter lack of reaction, he groaned into your mouth, arms circling around your waist.

You’d clearly awoken something in him, his lips responding to your own with vengeance, pulling your body as close to his as possible. Your neck ached fiercely at the harsh angle, but that was the last thing on your mind.

You couldn’t pinpoint what this feeling was – you only knew that you didn’t want to let it go. This warmth, this safety, this moment with the sun warming your skin, his hands clutching you, his lips soft, patient against your own.

What started out hurried and desperate soon became slow and calm, but your heart was pounding in your chest regardless.

It was the horse’s whinny at your side that broke you from your daze, your lips separating as you looked at him wide-eyed.

“Y/N-”

“Come home safe,” you cut him off, finally disentangling yourself from him and stepping back.

He looked like he had so much he wanted to say to you, and you shared the sentiment.

But there was no time if he wanted to reach the capital before sundown.

He would just need to come back.

With a sombre nod and a quick touch of his fingers to his lips in disbelief, he turned to finally mount his horse.

You locked eyes once more, forcing your mouth up into a smile as you weakly waved farewell.

But your heart hurt, your eyes stinging.

All he could do was try his best to return it.

And with one last tilt of the head from both of you, he set off.

Come home safe.

Please.

--

It was a long and grueling six months.

You were beside yourself once Namjoon left that morning. It must have been days before you felt well enough to leave your bed, but time was a blur then. Your sister did her best to comfort you, cuddling her much smaller body into your side until you both fell asleep.

But you could not spend all of your days moping. Not when you had your own responsibilities in your home and with your students. Not when that would be the last thing Namjoon wanted, either.

Each time a letter arrived from Namjoon, your hope renewed. They came every few weeks, one for you and one for his mother.

You always ran excitedly to her house when a letter came for you, eager to share what words he was able to put down in a rush at the camp.

He was clearly a busy and well-needed man, stationed at one of the more populated camps on the edge of the battlefield, tending to the wounded at every hour of the day.

Despite his short letters and scribbled words, he always included petals or pressed flowers in his letters to you.

It made you giggle when you opened the first one to find a badly-crushed hyacinth stuffed into the sheets.

It was no secret that you went through a phase in your adolescence in which you loved to collect flowers in notebooks. You’d had many short-lived passions, but this one lasted for years. Books and books of dried, pressed flowers, enough that your poor sister sneezed whenever she entered your room.

It became routine to find flower after flower in his letters to you, and you had to admit that your heart fluttered each time, excited to see what he included for you that time.

The flowers on the other side of the country were much different from your own, and it was no small thrill to see what beauty was in store for you with each letter.

--

Stretching your arms far above your head, you sat up in bed, having been woken by the sunlight streaming in despite your closed curtains. Perhaps you would soon need to invest in buying some heavier, darker fabrics.

Hopping out of bed quickly and tossing on your skirts and apron, you gave yourself a quick once-over in the mirror before heading out to wash up and make breakfast.

You were often the first one up, your mother much preferring reading or knitting until late at night, lit only by lanternlight. Your sister, on the other hand, slept early and woke up late. The girl got an obscene amount of sleep, though you supposed her growing body must have needed it.

You didn’t mind the quiet, your hushed footsteps and soft humming only ever interrupted by birdsong and crickets chirping.

You were in a particularly good mood as of late, constantly receiving news of battles gone well and your country’s forcing advancing. The village elders had told you that with the way things were going, the men should be back in about a month or two, perhaps even sooner should your opponents surrender.

The thought of seeing Namjoon again in only a month had a soft smile spreading across your face before you had realized it.

You didn’t know what you were feeling for Namjoon, didn’t know if it was love, but you knew that with every letter, he wrapped himself around your heart even more.

Reaching the kitchen, you reached for a hair bandana before turning in search of flour. Perhaps you could make pastries before your family woke up?

But as you turned, a flash of white in your peripheral caught your eye. Spotting an envelope on the near the front door, the bandana fell forgotten to the floor, feet racing across the room.

Scooping the envelope from the floor, you hurried over to the table, setting yourself down into a wooden chair in preparation for another of Namjoon’s letters.

But when you examined the letter closer, you frowned.

It was addressed to you, but the handwriting wasn’t one that you recognized. Who else ever sent you letters? Who could you possibly not recognize despite them knowing where you lived?

Doubt and dread rose in your gut, but when you turned the envelope around, you could have sworn your heart stopped.

A military seal.

Bright red, and clear as day.

With trembling hands, you reached for a nearby knife to cut the envelope open.

Pulling the paper from inside, you had to muffle a cry when you unfolded the letter, a flower falling into your waiting hand, Namjoon’s writing covering the page.

Unlike his normal, scribbled, rushed handwriting, this was meticulous. Neat.

It made you feel sick.

Already feeling like you were sinking, you begun to read.

My dearest Y/N,

I pray to anyone who may be listening that your eyes never see the words written on this page, that I return to you a stronger man, prepared to do anything to have you kiss me again.

In the event that you are reading this, I’m sorry.

I asked my commander to send you a letter in the event that I do not make it out of this war alive.

It pains me to write this, and I fear staining the paper with my tears as I do. There is nothing I want less than to leave you alone, than to leave you behind as I leave this plane.

There was something you said to me once when we were perhaps 11 or 12, I’m not sure if you remember it. It was after we got into one of our silly, petty fights, and I ignored you for a several days.

When we met again, I remember that you were crying. Your eyes were wet and red, and my heart hurt then. You told me, “Never leave me alone again.” I told you I wouldn’t, and I never did something like that again. From then on, I promised myself that I would never leave you. I would stay by your side in whatever capacity you let me.

I'm sorry. I’m sorry I broke my promise, and I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough to come back to you.

I love you more than words can say, and I’m sorry.

I never want to cause you pain, and it kills me knowing that if you ever have to read this, I won’t be there to ease the hurt.

I want you so badly to be happy no matter what, and I want nothing more than for you to look back on our moments together with joy. Please don’t let my death take that beautiful smile from your face forever.

I’m sorry.

With all my love,

Your Namjoon

You didn’t know when you had started crying, but fat teardrops covered your hands, splashing against the ink on the page.

Why?

Why?

Why did your story have to end here?

You tried to quiet your sobs, but it was no use. You were lost to sorrow, overcome with pain, your vision blurry with tears.

As you balled up your fists in rage and agony, you felt something poke into your palm.

The flower.

Wiping the tears from your eyes, you looked down into the palm of your hand, and another gut-wrenching cry was pulled from your throat.

Because there laid a browning, wilted, crushed, forget-me-not.

--

Tagging: @jinpanman​ @ezralia-writes​ @wwilloww​

[ripples-of-thought]

Abortion in 1987

My junior year in high school I met a young man from a rival school during a New Year's Eve lock-in at a roller-skating rink. This is about what happened about 8 months later, just before my senior year.

Since I had a steady boyfriend, I started on "The Pill". My mother knew I was having sex with him and supported my decision to use birth control. At the time I was not living with her, so I went to Planned Parenthood. Although I could not have afforded them full price, PP allowed me to purchase them on a sliding scale. It worked well for months; however, as time passed I started to get a little sloppy about taking my pill on time every day. Some nights I'd forget altogether, and the next morning I'd swallow the previous night's pill with a prayer that this one time wouldn't be the one that got me pregnant. One month at the end of the summer, my period didn't show.

I was anxious about getting pregnant, so I got a home pregnancy test as soon as I was a week late. The next morning, I peed on the stick. One line was negative, two lines... yes, the two lines right there on the stick... that meant positive. I was pregnant. I told my boyfriend, the one I was "in love" with. He meant the world to me, and would be my rock. Since my menses were normally very regular, I was pretty sure there was no mistake, but before being able to do anything, I would need a doctor's confirmation anyway. Back to Planned Parenthood I went, where they were able to verify the results, again at a price even a high school student in the 'burbs could afford.

The fact that this doctor's visit, and the potentially life-changing nature of it, seemed so routine that, years after, I've nearly forgotten it, is a testament to the professionalism of the care I received at that clinic. Everything was calm that day. The anxiety of deliberation all came afterward.

I told my parents. Being a pregnant teenager is scary, but I had two parents who loved me, and a mother who told me she'd support whatever decision I made.

She very much wanted me to be able to follow my own heart and mind about this, and I admire and appreciate that. I knew the history of abortion in the USA, had seen Dirty Dancing, I knew other times and other families had provided neither the freedom nor support that mine did. I was, and am, grateful for that.

But to no fault of theirs, I was not able to freely choose what to do with my body - whether to use it to continue growing this other human, or have the procedure that would end my pregnancy. My choice was smashed to pieces by my "rock".

For, while I was weighing the options - whether my family, my education and means, had room for an infant at this time... whether I was strong enough to carry a baby to term only to give it up to an adoptive family to care for it beyond my ability... whether to terminate the pregnancy and carry on with life's plans (such as they were) as if I'd never been pregnant... my boyfriend was thinking about his future career in the military.

His only ambition his entire life was to be part of an elite military unit such as the US Special Forces (the Green Berets) or what he saw as their modern equivalent, the Airborne Infantry. He was already a career Boy Scout, and an Eagle Scout, something he took great pride in. He'd talked to recruiters and was ready to enlist as soon as he graduated. And he saw my pregnancy as a threat to that.

At least, that's what he told me. I really can't understand his reasoning now... and I'm not sure I even seriously questioned it then. When I told him that I was considering adoption instead of abortion, he refused to even consider it. He couldn't stand the thought of "his" child being "somewhere out there" ...raised by someone else. He told me that if I did not have an abortion, I would never see him again.

There's a lot of hurt behind that statement... hurt that actually has nothing to do with him. Because while he had plans for a career after high school, I did not. I had vague ideas about what I wanted to do... I wanted to be artistic. I wanted to paint and write... but beyond that... I had no idea. I certainly didn't have plans for university... I didn't have the money to pay for it myself and I didn't have the grades or extra-curricular activities to get me a scholarship.

I knew I wasn't cut out for the military. I lacked the discipline and the physical fitness for that kind of life, whatever the film STRIPES made it out to be. So that left ...what? Becoming someone's domestic help? Being a grocery checkout clerk? Becoming a ...housewife? And with graduation looming ahead, I knew my days as a carefree teen were numbered. My mother had said so, jokingly, a few years before. I took it way too literally and way too personally. Mom had quipped about my dad's brother living in his parents' house in his 30's... "When you turn 18, you're on your own, kiddo." She didn't mean it. Hell, she wasn't even really talking about me at all! It was about her ex-brother-in-law, but I didn't realize that at 14 and I didn't realize it at 17. And so it went until that day... My self-esteem defining me through my romantic partnerships, never as the hero of my own story. So when he said my pregnancy threatened his future, and said he'd walk if I didn't terminate, I saw my future, the only future I could envision, endangered. I saw this pregnancy as a threat to the marriage I expected and all the children he and I might have in the future.

When I told my mom about my decision to terminate, I didn't tell her why. She took it calmly, but told me years later that she had been hoping I would choose differently. She offered to be there for me, she paid for part of it, and my boyfriend paid the rest. She drove me there and took me home after.

The Planned Parenthood in Beaverton did not perform abortions, and they referred me to a clinic in Northwest Portland, close to downtown. I had to make one appointment for "counseling" in which I had to lie and say that nobody was forcing me to get an abortion, and then I could set the appointment for the procedure.

I suppose that, in my mind, it wasn't really a lie. If I had been a stronger personality at the time, I could have refused to abort the pregnancy and sued him for child support... I never think about this event without a list of "what-ifs" as long as my arm.

I remember it as quiet, clean, with a neutral palette. I don't remember any of the other young women. It was the most normal thing really... just a trip to the doctor... just an "outpatient procedure". The table, the stirrups, the speculum... just like any gynecological visit I'd ever been to. I didn't pay much attention to the aspirator (the machine that provides the suction) and just focused on breathing slowly and staying relaxed. I was given local anesthetic and it was over very quickly.

I remember waiting in the recovery room for my mom to take me home, and I was relieved that it was over with. I was sorry that I had felt the need to do it, and I remember even apologizing to the fetus. I had already started believing in reincarnation as a teenager, and hoped that in the future, the same spirit might grow within another body that mine would build, when I was ready to have children. This was just not that time.

What followed the next week was pretty much what I usually went through during my period. Cramps, bleeding, and then... life went on.

I do want to write about that arms-length list of "what-ifs"... but this post, this blog, is not about what could have happened. It's about what did happen. And what did happen was not nearly as traumatic as some would have you expect.

It didn't result in any more depression than I was already experiencing due to undiagnosed chronic conditions. It's far more truthful to say that my depression led to needing an abortion than that my abortion caused depression.

I was not wracked with guilt afterward... although years later when I went through a Christian conversion experience I did feel a sort of guilt about not feeling guilty...

One out of four women in the USA have an abortion at some point in their lives. The reasons they list for having one are usually complex, involving multiple facets of their life; most often some intersection of emotional and financial stability. My story is not rare. It's common. It's normal.

It's okay.

For more information about the effect of unwanted pregnancy and abortion on the women who experience it, I recommend reading The Turnaway Study.

[moviewarfare]

A Review of “The Falcon and the Winter Soldier (2021)”

The Falcon and the Winter Soldier (TFATWS) is the next in Marvel Disney+ TV shows. While the previous show, WandaVision, did something new with the Superhero genre, TFATWS aims to bring the Captain America movie style to a TV show format. The premise is "Six months after being handed the mantle of Captain America at the end of Avengers: Endgame (2019), Sam Wilson (Anthony Mackie) teams up with Bucky Barnes (Sebastian Stan) in a worldwide adventure that tests their abilities and their patience". So does this series live up to the mantle or drops the "shield" completely?

Firstly, I like the idea of the series. Having a series focused on Sam and Bucky who for the most part in the MCU movies are just Captain America sidekicks as the main focus for the show is great. Also having the series revolve around the legacy of the shield and Captain America is an interesting idea. They also explore interesting themes such as racism, refugees and corrupt governments while still retaining the core elements of the MCU movies.

Sam is the main focus in the show and his struggle with the legacy and the responsibility of the shield is a great story. Throughout the show we see him explore what it means for a black person to take up the mantle and what Captain America means to the people. By the final episode, seeing Sam fully come into terms with his role is very fulfilling. Bucky is the secondary protagonist and he is struggling with his past as the Winter Soldier and a world without his best friend Steve. There is an exploration of his trauma and him trying to do right to all the victims of his past which is a nice story for his character. By the final episode, he finally knows what he needs to do and it's quite sad yet satisfying. The best part of the show is the banter between these 2 and their buddy cop antics are absolute highlights in the series.

Another highlight in this series is John Walker played magnificently by Wyatt Russell. He is the new Captain America that is chosen by the government. Wyatt manages to perfectly make him hateable and that is quite the testament to Wyatt's performance. He isn't an outright villain though and they do give him a fair amount of sympathetic qualities with a character arc of sort for him as well. Another great support character is Isaiah Bradley (Carl Lumbly) who has some great moments that add some weight to Sam's story. Zemo (Daniel Bruhl) returns from Captain America Civil War as a sort of wildcard for Sam and Bucky. His return is great as we get to see a more fun side to him while still being quite the manipulator. His interactions with both Sam and Bucky add another level of tension to the dynamic. Additionally, he wears his iconic costume from the comics which is nice even though it doesn't make much sense for him to do so. Daniel Bruhl single-handedly stole every scene he was in thanks to his amazing performance.

The cinematography by P.J. Dillon feels very "movie like" and I didn't get the TV show feeling when watching the series. There are some parts in the series where the visuals are quite gorgeous with an example being episode 3 where they are in Madripoor. Henry Jackman who scored Captain America Winter Soldier and Civil War returns to score and while none of the soundtracks is memorable, it does a good job in representing the scene without being overly distracting. There are great action scenes that utilize the power of the super soldiers and the flying suit of Falcon. Some fights are quite brutal and very memorable.

Nevertheless, I have some issues with this series and the biggest one being the slow pacing. There are a lot of moments where it feels like not much story progression is occurring. This is most noticeable in episode 5 where the majority of the episode is just a lot of sitting around. For a series that is only 6 episodes, it is quite weird that it can still drag like this. There is also a lot of moments during the series where it seems to be more focused on building future stories which are mildly distracting from the main story. The final episode also handles John's final story arc in a really weird way that just feels completely sudden and it also contains a very cringe resolution that doesn't fit the series.

I also have an issue with the main villain Karli Morgenthau (Erin Kellyman) who is the leader of an anti-patriotism group the Flag Smashers who contains some members with super-soldier serum. The motive of the group is fine and understandable as they want to have open national borders. The problem is the leader of the group Karli is just not believable. She is extremely bratty and murder crazed that I do not understand how people look up to her. The actress Erin is okay but her performance is constantly outweighed by the better antagonist of John Walker and everyone else. It also baffles me how they are somehow able to fight on par with Bucky when he has literal assassin, military training and a vibranium arm but okay. Sharon Carter (Emily VanCamp) returns but I have mixed feelings about her. She is a lot darker as a character and doesn't resemble who she was in the Captain America movies which are mildly jarring. Her still being on the run from the government despite all the other Cap supporters being pardon makes no logical sense. Despite being blipped, she is also somehow able to build a massive fortune and completely change her personality doesn't feel believable. However, she is a lot more interesting than just being Peggy 2.0 so there is that.

Overall, the series doesn't land all its shots but it certainly delivers on the epic scope you expect from Marvel. It has mature social commentary, hilarious moments, thrilling action sequences and great chemistry between Anthony and Sebastian that just meshes together like a charm. I'm interested in what this series leads to whether it's another Marvel movie or a second season and I want to see more of Sam and Bucky in the future.

[thevindicativevordan]

Why I Like Superman

This is a post I’ve been going over and over in my head, trying to suss out my feelings. The simple fact is I love Superman, and I have for as long as I can remember. I wore Superman pajamas as a kid. I watched cartoons like Superman: The Animated Series, Justice League, Legion of Superheroes, and was hyped as hell when he showed up on The Batman cartoon. I drew variations of the S-shield all over the sides of my school notebooks, and I tied a towel around my neck and pretended I could fly.

One of my favorite Xbox games to play was the Superman Returns tie-in game (remember those?), because it was the only game I could play that let me fly around, shooting off heat vision and freezing people with arctic breath. I still remember the opening that had you destroy asteroids, and being absolutely wowed as a kid by the big finale which had you slam into the largest asteroid at supersonic speed to destroy it. Took me forever to beat the Warworld arena level though because I didn’t know how to block.

Because there were no local comic shops near my home for me to go buy issues at (not that I even knew what a local comic shop was at the time), I kept up with his, and the rest of my favorite DC heroes adventures, via reading the DC wiki. I spent so much of my time waiting for my mom to get off the computer so I could go online and catch up that my parents installed parental blocks because they were worried about what I was doing.

In short he’s been a constant favorite of mine throughout childhood, through my teenage years, and straight on into adulthood. I never developed the dislike or distaste for him that some people did, and he never dropped out of the top spot for me like he did for others. There were times when he shared the top spot for me with Batman and Spider-Man, until One More Day wrecked my relationship with Spidey and I grew bored of the endless cycles of Batman being a dick to the Batfamily and then learning he needs them. But even throughout his lowest points (and God have there been so many of those in the last decade), he’s remained the top guy for me.

But why? I think it’s in part because of the type of genre he embodies. He is of course The Superhero, and he lives in the genre he founded, but he also lives in a type of optimistic science fiction genre that’s downright extinct nowadays. As a kid I was a massive science fiction fan, and my dad was friends with a guy who was also hugely into science fiction. This guy had a basement full of science fiction books written from the Golden Age of Science Fiction, up until the cyberpunk era kicked off in the 1980s. He was happy to hand novels off to me, and his private library beat the hell out of our public one. I devoured stories of fearless heroes in space exploring new worlds, first contact with alien races, mindbending new technologies that seemed like magic, about transcending our mortal flesh and becoming part of a universal, transcendental whole, stories that didn’t just talk about technology but about the human condition. Stories that while sometimes bleak, painted a positive picture of the human ability to overcome our inherent flaws and be a powerful force for good. And ultimately Superman speaks from the same source.

It’s not just about the powers, although those who completely dismiss their appeal are making a mistake I believe. It’s about humanity, about our ability to transcend our base natures, reflected in this Strange Visitor from Another Planet, who embodies our virtues and our vices, who is torn between the fear of doing too much and the fear of doing too little. Who hides his true self behind a pair of glasses because he craves the fellowship of humanity more than any amount of glory or riches. His no-kill rule a firm affirmation of the value of life, all life everywhere no matter it’s form. His greatest love, Lois Lane, is his co-worker and greatest rival as a reporter, who has everyone’s number in her phone, be they crime lord or living saint. His greatest friend, Jimmy Olsen, is the guy everyone else ignores or bosses around, but is a rich kid weirdo who gets up to all sorts of bizarre adventures that keep the Daily Planet afloat. His childhood friends are superheroes from the future, his home City of Metropolis is 10 years ahead of everyone else in terms of technology, his dog can shatter concrete via barking at it, his home den is a ice crystal castle situated at the North Pole, like Santa’s Workshop. In short his life is one where even the mundane corners hide fantastical attributes. By living among us, he helps to elevate us, to make our daily grind interesting by seeing through the lens of his life. As others have said, we walk our dogs around the block, he walks his around the solar system.

But it would be a mistake to assume that Superman doesn’t tackle the darker sides of life too. Even the most optimistic sci-fi novels that I read as a kid had dystopic elements in them, intended or not. His home planet of Krypton was our technological superior, yet ignored the warnings of it’s chief scientist, and died a victim of it’s own greed and arrogance with Kal-El as the Last Son. His birth parents died in the fires of self-perpetuated genocide, his adopted parents the Kents often fall to mundane heart diseases or accidents, which even his power can not save them from. His greatest enemy Lex Luthor, is the one person who can understand his loneliness, his need for the public’s approval and acceptance, and yet the shared enmity between the two has ruined any chance of them forming a friendship that could have been. The shining City of Metropolis venerates Luthor as well as Clark, reflecting the greed, selfishness, and callousness of it’s other favorite child. Suicide Slum stands as a testament to the limits of how much Superman can improve life. The Phantom Zone is a spinechilling example of the inhumane treatment of prisoners. His foes ran the gauntlet from greedy businessmen out for money at any cost, to victims who have suffered at humanity’s hands and seek revenge, to sociopaths who treat other peoples pain and lives as a source of amusement, to murderers who care not from where the blood flows, only that it does, to tyrants who seek to crush all resistance underneath their heel, to gods who wish the elimination of free will itself. Each of them force Superman to confront the fallibility of human nature and wrestle with whether or not his faith in both them and himself is justified.

In a sentence? I love Superman because he’s a character you can do almost anything with, from comedic hijinks, to serious dramas, to distributing horror stories, to exciting adventure stories. He reminds me of the best type of science fiction stories, ones that explore people and existence from all sorts of angles, that never lose sight of the emotional human core at the heart of all the high concept existential concepts. He’s made me laugh, cry, think, get motivated, get angry, and sometimes just get writing. He brings the big ideas and the human emotions that keep me reading comics throughout all the Big 2′s bullshit. He still believes in the human capacity for good, in spite of our flaws, in spite of how few of us seem to believe in that capacity ourselves, and he shows us that it’s still there by touching our hearts through his stories. That’s why I like Superman, and why he’s my favorite superhero.

[valkyrieelysia18]

RWBY Rewrite: The Relics

Hello there everyone! I’m back with another post on my Rewrite series that hopefully will delight you.

Admittedly, this might be an odd topic after my last post. Well, that one was pretty big and I wanted something a bit smaller to tackle. I had thought about getting into the White Fang next, but that post is going to be a dozy and then I thought of the Relics. And I thought “Sure, that’ll work.”

The Relics, in my opinion, were handled poorly in the show. Items that can grant great power and when collected something amazing/terrible have been done before and done well (which is honestly true a lot of stuff in RWBY). In RWBY, we didn’t know the Relics existed until over halfway through Volume 4, reduced the Maidens to essentially gate keys in Volume 5, and even at the end of Volume 6 we only know what the lamp can do on its own. I mean come on, Dragon Ball took one episode to explain its titular item (granted they were a lot more simple, but still)! So we’re going to tackle these things.

Now before we get into the individual items, let’s address some things that about the Items as a whole.

The first thing to note about the Relics in this Rewrite is that gathering the four together won’t summon the Gods back to Remnant. The Brothers in this Rewrite are much more distant figures, preferring to observe their creations rather than directly interfering. 

So then, why does Salem want to collect them? The full reason will be in her and Ozpin’s backstory post, but to put it simply Salem has a more personal history with the Relics here and wishes to get them back. She views that leaving them in the hands of mortals will just lead to them abusing the items, causing more pain and suffering for the world. Not an entirely baseless viewpoint as we’ll get into soon enough.

The next thing to note is that before the Relics were under the care of the Academies and Ozpin’s group, each was possessed by a former Royal Family. Vale had Choice, Mistral had Knowledge, Vacuo had Destruction, and Mantle had Creation. Granted as time passed and certain things were failed to be passed on, by the time of the Great War only the Crown of Choice’s abilities were known and even then only to a select few.

Each Relic will have a have a spirit that will be involved with the item’s power. I’m not sure whether it was said in RWBY after I left that each Relic had a spirit or whether Jinn was an exception, but I’m going to roll with the first one. Also, each Spirit technically doesn’t have a biological sex, they choose how they want to look.

Also, only the Lamp will have the blue glow. The other Relics will associated with the color of their kingdom: the Staff having a White crystal, the Sword having an Orange gleaming blade, and a Green jewel in the center of the Crown. They can still have the gold, but this will make them more distinct from each other.

Finally, they are NOT the major Grimm magnets as presented in the original show. While they do give off a sort of a signature that Grimm can recognize, it’s a faint one. It would attract Grimm attention if it stayed out for too long in the wild or Grimm would be looking for it in an area if Salem directed them personally to it.

All right, now let’s get down to business!

Knowledge: Jinn

The Lamp of Knowledge is the only Relic we’ve gotten to know it’s full abilities as well as meet its spirit. Even then, I think that three questions every a hundred years is maybe a little too limited for something that is a power of the gods. So, I’m changing it.

Instead of granting three questions within a certain time frame, I like the idea of giving anyone who uses the lamp the ability to ask Jinn one question of the past and present. Everyone is entitled to knowledge after all and they should determine how they want to use it. I know, I kind of stole the idea from the scepter from the direct to video Aladdin King of Thieves, but I think it’s a good setup. It’s powerful, but it still has limitations. This will contrast with its opposite the Crown, which will be more exclusive and deal with the future.

Then there’s Jinn and am I the only who thought her design was lazy? I mean we get it, she’s a genie, but there’s nothing interesting or unique in her design. Pretty sure comparisons to Aladdin’s Genie and Magi’s Paimon have been made. I’d leave her redesign to someone who is fully capable of putting a new spin on it, but I would like the idea of her not having a consistent wardrobe. Maybe have her wear a top that was similar to something found in Central Mistral while wearing a hairpiece you would identify being at home in Eastern Mistral. Not only would this symbolize how multicultural Mistral is, but also how history is made of many different parts.

Now Jinn herself wouldn’t be that different of a character from canon. She would still be a rather pleasant, teasing spirit who is quite thrilled to finally be out of the Vault again. Amongst the Relic spirits, she’s probably the one who has the least regard for mortals, but that’s partly because of what people usually use her for. Most people would ask about power, riches, dark secrets; it got kind of boring and predictable for Jinn and it was less pleasant when they would get mad at her for telling them truths they didn’t want to hear. Let’s just say a few rulers of Mistral that used her Relic didn’t use it very wisely.

Jinn’s favorite type of petitioner would be someone like Oobleck: someone who would ask her about some part of history that doesn’t have much known about it and she doesn’t get to talk about nearly as much as she’d like to so she actually goes into more detail than necessary. She’d also respect someone who probably knows the answer she’s going to give them is not one they want to hear, but is resolved to face the truth whatever it is.

Creation: Eve/Ev

The Staff of Creation is a bit interesting in that works better for some than others. It uses what a person pictures in their mind to bring what they want to reality, within reason. So it really works best with someone very creative and has a clear vision of what they want to do. It can’t create something that’s alive (like a dog) or that had been living (like someone who has passed on). Also, the more detailed and involved an item is, the longer it will take for the Staff to recharge. For example, the little crystals (which are basically a crystallized form of the staff’s power) Ironwood has been creating as an alternative energy source would take a couple of hours to a day depending on how many were created at a time. Whereas a huge detailed palace would take decades to over a century, longer than it would have taken them to build in real time.

Eve is the Spirit of Creation and would have a rather androgynous appearance. I was also thinking that the Spirit could be called Eve or Ev depending on who’s addressing them. Their main color would be white, but their appearance would resemble that of artist. Perhaps having smudges of charcoal on their face or a splattering of color on an apron. I think it would be really ironic that the kingdom that banned the arts at one point would have a Spirit that is quintessentially an artist, heck Eve might have locked up during that time and forgotten about until after the war was over. Again, I’d leave the design to someone who is much better suited for it.

Now in this Rewrite, the Staff is no longer in the Vault because Ironwood took it out. He reasoned that having a powerful tool that could be used to in the fight against of Salem would be wasted simply being left in the Vault. Needless to say, Eve doesn’t like the way Ironwood is using them. It’s clear the power is just a means to an end to him, something he can use to make Atlas more secure. There is no love or passion for what he’s creating and he treats them with no courtesy or respect, not listening at all when they try to talk to him. When Watts eventually comes to retrieve the Staff, Eve is basically “Oh thank the Brothers! I could care less about your plans, just get me out of here!” It’s sort of a summary of what partly causes Ironwood’s fall: the inability to get that people aren’t purely logical beings that will do what they are told for the greater good, but emotional irrational people who will snap when pushed too far.

The best person Eve could work with is someone who specializes in the visual arts: painting, sculpture, architecture, etc. Someone who has a very clear vision and obviously very passionate about the things they want to create. Eve would also enjoy someone who is perfectly okay if they don’t get their creation exactly right on the first try  and is more than willing to take Eve’s advice/criticism. 

Destruction: Adamou

The Sword of Destruction is perhaps the easiest Relic to understand and use. Using the sword will increase your physical abilities and the sword can send out waves of power that can devastate a group of foes or alter the environment. However, using it takes quite a bit of energy. Best case scenario will involve a week of recovery. Worst case scenario you expend years of your life. Even the King of Vale with all his power, lost two or three years he should have had to live on that Final Battle of the Great War. This cost was so great to the old Vacuo Monarchs (and given that most of their past was peaceful) that it was hidden away and forgotten about until the Great War happened and the last King of Vale rediscovered it.

I’m still little unsure of how I would like Adamou, the Spirit of Destruction, to look like. The closest example that comes to mind is something like Nemesis from Fire Emblem Three Houses: a large older battle scarred man with light armor. Once again, I’m a writer and not a character designer so if anyone has ideas I’d be willing to see them. That being said, his name is actually a West Africa variation of the name Adam, putting him in contrast to Eve. Anyone who has a passing understanding of the Old Testament should probably understand what I’m doing here.

Adamou, despite his outward and intimidating appearance, is actually a pretty easy going spirit. He’s also somewhat disappointed in how he doesn’t get used as much compared to his brethren, but he does understand why and has great respect for the old rulers of Vacuo for doing what they did. He enjoys a good fight, but he also enjoys competitions of all kinds whether physical or mental. You could talk him into a little kiddie board game and he’d go at with as much glee as slaying a hoard of Grimm. As the Spirit of Destruction, he knows better than anyone that life is finite and it’s best to live and fight to the fullest until your time comes.

Adamou would gravitate to people like Yang or Pyrrha: those who enjoy combat and wish to live their life to the fullest. Those who’s spirits burn bright even if it means they burn out quicker. That said, he also respects those who fight to protect those they love and things they believe in (to an extent, he’s not fond of fanatics who would give their lives away without a second thought for something obviously sketchy).

Choice: Caesar

Whereas the Lamp reveals the past and present, the Crown of Choice is focused on the future. Those who wear it have the ability to see the possible outcomes of any choice they face. As such you can see what the cost and consequences of your options. That being said, it’s not a hundred percent as the future is always in motion and there’s no telling how other people’s actions and choices may affect what you decide. Still, the predictions do tend to be very accurate. There’s also the possibility that wielder may obsess over said choices or may become dependent on the Crown, but that has happened very rarely since Caesar usually stops their wielders before they go too far in this.  

The thing about the Crown is that unlike the Lamp, it can only be used by one person. When its user dies, the Crown is free to be taken up by another and once it has bonded to someone they are bound for life. Now the Crown can be lent to another person, but every wielder can only do so once in their lifetime and those who borrow it can only use it for three days. On the fourth day, the crown will tighten around the person’s head, giving great pain and hallucinations, and will only stop if that person takes it off at which they can no longer use it. 

Seeing the obvious issues of such a powerful item potentially falling into the wrong hands, the first King of Vale came to an agreement with the Spirit Caesar to set up a trap/test to anyone who would try to claim the Crown. The Crown would be placed in a special chamber when not in use with a multitude of different crowns and circlets in the room. It’s up to the person to choose the right crown with no outside input. Get it wrong and the crown will turn to ash and that person is forever barred from taking the Crown. The twist? The true crown’s appearance in the trial is in fact not a crown, but a wreath of laurels (which can be seen on Beacon’s symbol). And if you’re thinking this sounds quite a bit like the scenario from Indiana Jones and The Last Crusade, that’s cause it is as its kind of the sort of trial you’d find in a fable or fairy tale. It would take either a very thoughtful and self aware person to pass the trial as well as one not greedy. It’s also made a little more complicated as the Crown looks slightly different for each of it’s wielders, which will be noticed in an earlier scene with our group of heroes in a hall of portraits of the past monarchs of the Vale. Because that is what determined who would succeed to the throne of Vale.

And yes, we will learn a lot more on this when I do the King of Vale Rewrite Post.

As a result of the nature of Crown, Caesar is the spirit that is the most close to mortals as they build a strong personal relationship with their users. As part of this, when a new wielder is chosen, Caesar will take upon the appearance of their predecessor to guide the new one. I’m still a little torn over whether Caesar should appear as the old wielder when they first took up the Crown, in the peak of that person’s life, or how they looked when they died. 

Caesar, for the most part, acts as a sort of advisor to their wielder. That can come off as them acting very parental which given how often the Crown would pass from parent to child is quite fitting. They will give advice when asked for, but in general will advise against using the Crown’s power if its a situation their user can more than handle on their own. They are very much the type of person who would advocate that “It’s the journey, not the destination” and is more than willing to let their wielder fail if it meant they could learn something from it. That said, they do get very attached and is probably the only Spirit that would openly speak positively about Salem due to her history with them and also has issues with Ozpin. They and Jinn will be the ones to eventually give the more specific details to group about Ozpin and Salem’s history after they got the general outline elsewhere.

Caesar has worked with many different types of people, but the main thing they each had in common is that they were the type of people who were always concerned with the consequences of their actions for those around them and the kingdom of Vale as a whole. They generally work best with someone who is humble and empathetic. However, they generally don’t like someone if they put a singular goal above everything else without consideration of all the consequences (again, issues with Ozpin).

Well, that turned out longer than I was expecting it too. I guess I just got into the creative juices. Anyway, I think I’ll do a different post before coming back to do Cinder. And just as a reminder people, I dropped this show at the end of Volume 6 so don’t bring up anything after that to me in a comment.

See you soon!

[jincherie]

florescence | iv

❀ — pairing: taehyung x reader x seokjin ❀ — genre: hybrid au, hybrid tae, hybrid jin, poly au, fluff, smut (future), angst ❀ — words: 5.1k+ ❀ — rating: sfw ❀ — warnings: a pinch of angst... oops ❀ — notes: fiddling and editing, i felt that i needed to expand this bit more so i added some context and cut the end scene off to make the feature of the next chapter

Okay, so maybe you’re lonely, and maybe there is something missing in your life, a void that you maybe want to fill with a companion that may or may not be of human origin… You’re perfectly content not doing anything about it though, until your best friend calls you in desperate need for your help and you suddenly end up coming home with not one, but two hybrids that may or may not have been on the way to the chopping block had you not taken them in. They’re more than a little rough around the edges, and the situation is less than ideal but… maybe the best things don’t always come in perfect, shiny packages. Maybe they just need a little time to bloom.

— posted; 16.11.2019 // masterlist || prev. | next.

"You're not going to be returning to a happy audience, y/n."

Startled from your position where you are crouched tying your shoe, you look up and take in the sight of Changkyun's feline form leaning against the wall beside you, white-tipped tail flicking idly behind him. Somewhat amused yet chagrined since you know exactly what he's talking about, you let out a sigh and finish tying your shoes before rising to a stand, dusting your hands against your jeans.

"I know," you respond, somewhat dryly. The cat hybrid is a little too smug for your liking, having been privy to the problem that's been making itself known in your life this week. "I can't help it though. If they want to keep eating pancakes and meat dishes then they gotta put up with me leaving the house for work. I need food tokens because that's capitalism, babey."

The hybrid snorts, rolling the ring over his lip with his tongue before deciding to deign you with a response. "I don't think I've ever heard anyone else refer to cash money as food tokens, but you know what it has a nice ring to it, so I'll let you have that one."

"Thanks for the charity," you laugh, slinging your bag over your shoulder. The kids that had been under your care for the evening are fast asleep in their beds, so you don't have to worry about them catching you leaving and throwing a tantrum. Their mother, a lovely woman who works as a secretary to the CEO of one of your local well-established businesses, has already returned home to thank you and pay you. Staff meetings that run late into the night are particularly gruelling for her, and you made her promise she was going to get some good rest before she retired. Changkyun, the household hybrid who has too strong of a personality to ever be anything but the only hybrid in the house, has followed you out to the front door, and is making the most of his remaining time to bother you to the best of his ability.

"Have they told you why, yet?" Changkyun seems unwilling to let the previous topic go, persistent in his efforts to pull the latest information from you. Begrudgingly, you play along and give the nosy cat what he wants. He's awfully invested in your current affairs for some reason, probably because he'd been nagging you to get hybrids of your own for so long and now you'd finally ended up with some, to his glee.

"No," you huff. Your eyes slide away from his form, falling upon one of the lovely paintings displayed on the walls as you pout. "They haven't said a word, but they're still acting the same."

You don't like the look that enters the hybrid's sly eyes. "I can help, you know." He takes a step closer, leaning forward with a shit-eating grin. "I know what's bothering them. Just let me--"

"Rude cat, if you know then why don't you tell me!" you protest, poking his chest in a manner more playful than anything. "And stop trying to rub on me, I know what you're doing. They were really grumpy with me after you did it the first time so don't think I don't see you trying to stir the pot, cheeky cat."

Changkyun grins, eyes closing in his mirth as he steps back with his hands up in surrender and lets out a laugh. "Ok, fine! Take all the fun out of it! Live without ever knowing the truth, see if I care..."

You roll your eyes, knowing he's still playing with you. "Right, well, I'm going to go before you somehow manage to indirectly upset my hybrids even more. I'm watching you, Changkyunnie."

At the appearance of the nickname you've given him, the hybrid can't help but let out a purr as he laughs and bids you farewell. "Bye! See you next week! I wonder if you will have sorted out your little problem by then."

It's very tempting to flip him the bird, very tempting, but somehow you manage to restrain yourself and you think it really is a testament to your willpower. You bid him farewell and make a quick escape, mind a little hung on his words as you make your way from the house and down the path to where you parked your car.

Will you have resolved this "little problem", as he so blasély put it, by this time next week? You aren't sure, but to be honest you are a little doubtful. Why? Well...

You’re unsure if anyone ever took the time to try and explain the concept of working and jobs to your two hybrids.

You say this because you kind of assumed that they’d know what you mean when, barely three weeks after you brought them home, you told them you were going off to work and wouldn't be back until later—except it quickly became clear that was not the case and they did not, in fact, know what you meant. You’ve been growing closer and closer each day that passed and despite what their guidebooks said, they aren't continuing to act as withdrawn as they had been and aren't refusing to let you close. You’re overjoyed, of course, at the development, but you had no idea it would mean they would get so clingy.

Somewhat disgruntled at the turn of your thoughts as you climb into your car, you recall how it had all gone down that first day you'd returned to work. “What?” Seokjin’s voice climbed in pitch as he looked to you in alarm, attention torn from the pancake batter he’d been stirring. You showed him how to make it without help the other day and ever since he’s been trying to perfect it on his own. He blinked like he couldn’t believe what you just said, and you swore you could hear a hint of fear riding in his tone. “You’re what? You’re leaving? Why are you leaving?”

“I have to go to work,” you explained clearly, a little amused and endeared at the fact he’d evidently thought you’d be at home with them all the time. “I need to make money to pay the bills so we can keep living here and making pancakes, you know.”

When you brought the hybrids home, you’d immediately taken some time off work—you know how critical the first few weeks are in establishing comfort and an environment and dynamic where they feel safe. You suppose you never paused and thought about whether they realised you’d have a job that you would have to return to at some point. Perhaps this was your fault.

“Wh—do you have to? Do you have to go?” He was still holding the wooden spoon he was stirring with, looking at you with wide eyes. “Please don’t go.”

“I have to,” you affirmed, sending him an apologetic look. You almost forgot Taehyung was in the kitchen with you until you felt a tugging on your shirt and looked to the stool where he was perched and—oh, no, he was giving you the puppy eyes, the most potent pair of them you’d ever seen in your life.

“Hey, don’t give me those eyes, mister puppy.” You reached and booped his nose; his cheeks flushed and his ears lowered. “I won’t be gone long, you’ll survive.”

To your complete and utter surprise, Taehyung pulled away and angled his body in the opposite direction, effectively turning his back to you and rolling his eyes. You were left gaping at the uncharacteristic show of attitude. He… just rolled his eyes? At you? What…

Seokjin decided to pursue a different avenue in the hopes of persuading you to shirk your responsibility and stay. He droped the spoon into the bowl and rounded the counter in a few large steps, moving quick and taking your hands into his hold. He whimpered sadly, already making a very strong argument. “y/n, please don’t go.”

You were weak-willed when it comes to these two hybrids, as you quickly found out, but it is because of how much you care for them that you were able to resist. It wasn’t without another half hour of whining and clinging that you were able to leave the house, though. You work as a nanny for a select few affluent families, so its not like you’re working fulltime office hours, and most importantly you’re always going to come back. You have no idea why they’re so opposed to the idea of you leaving at all when they’ve shown they understand your reasoning…

The previous days you’ve come home after work, you’ve received a fair spread of responses. At first, they clung to you. When you came home after that first day of work (mind you, you were gone barely five hours that time) from the second you walked through the door, your two hybrids all but tackled you and stayed firmly attached to your side for the entire night after that. If they could, you were sure they’d shackle you to them.

The night after that, the reception was a little different. They were upset that you’d left again, and proceeded to let you know—for about the half hour that they could last without cuddling on the couch, that is. All you had to do was pull pudding out of the oven and your treason was forgotten, hybrids by your side and pressed against you once more. This, understandably, lulled you into a false sense of security of sorts. Perhaps they’d get over it soon?

Nope. The days after that, they switched it up in favour of something they seemed to think would be more effective. You’re no stranger to the cold shoulder, and usually quite sensitive to it, but to be honest… their attempt humoured you more than anything. The visible conflict in their expressions every time they attempted to brush you off is probably what was funniest. Every time they ignored you, or didn’t respond, it went against their nature and their usual urges. They’re soft, cuddly boys, you’ve found. And they might be grumpy, but even as they’re trying to make a statement, they can’t help but long for the way things usually are. Their cold shoulder usually lasts about an hour, and then they break. Nowhere near long enough to really have an effect.

But by today, when you arrive home from the job with Changkyun, you think it’s beginning to wear on you a little bit. When you ease the front door open, banging your toe on the frame and letting out a curse in the process, no one comes to greet you. The house isn’t empty (you can hear them scuffling about in their room) and the lights are on, but still, it feels… a little lonely. You huff, slightly grumpy that they’re still throwing a tantrum over this. As much as you try not to let it show, it is frustrating. You have to work! It’s not something you can simply stop doing because you want to, or your hybrids want you to.

You halt in the hallway to the kitchen, making yourself pause and take a breath. You’re frustrated and a little grumpy, yes, but you don’t want them to pick it up. They’re sensitive to these things, you’ve found. You watched a video on Facebook about kittens that made you cry the other day and barely a second after the first tear touched your cheek had Seokjin almost broke down your door, worried to high hell and back because he smelt it and thought something was wrong. You’ve been very careful since then, not wanting them to feel upset or uncomfortable as a result of your own emotions.  

Once you’re sure you’ve collected yourself enough, you continue into the kitchen, placing your bag on the table as you walk past. Humming and knowing that the quickest way to get them out of their mood is food, you open the fridge to stare inside, hoping an idea for dinner will come to you like a vision from above. Your fridge may be many things, but it’s not prophetic, and currently it’s not stocked with much food either. Huffing, you close the door with a little more force than necessary and turn away, wincing at the following bang. Hopefully the eggs are ok.

You’re not much in the mood to make a big meal tonight, so you make the executive decision to pull the tortellini you’ve been craving from the freezer and set it on the bench. Begrudgingly, after a moment of consideration, you pull out a few vegetables to add to the sauce mix. You suppose you better put some effort in, since you’ve already chosen the lazy meal.

True to character, as soon as the tortellini begins to cook in the pot and the smell begins to permeate the air, you hear the sound of light footsteps creeping down the stairs, attempting to go unnoticed. You wonder if they underestimate the extent of your human hearing, or if they’re just really bad at being sneaky.

They don’t go into the kitchen straight away, but they go to the living room, as close as they can get to the source of the smell without giving in and talking to you. You roll your eyes, partly amused and partly miffed. You suppose this is how it’s gonna be.

Considering how easy of a dish it is, it doesn’t take you long to cook and serve it. Instead of calling them to the kitchen to grab it, you slip out of the room and make you way to where they’ve started watching Netflix, next to each other on the couch.

Whether they don’t hear you coming or are still hell bent on ignoring you, you’re able to sneak right up behind them, the back of their heads peeking just over the back of the couch. Your hands slip forward, fingers weaving through the silky locks atop their head and ruffling them. Both hybrids jerk, Seokjin letting out a surprised yelp as he turns partly in his seat to shoot you an alarmed look.

The tension in their forms melts away in the next second as the tips of your fingers and your nails lightly drag across their scalps, brushing just barely the bottom of their ears. You think you hear a sharp intake of breath, surprisingly from Taehyung’s direction, but can’t verify it before your hands leave the top of their heads and your smiling at them as they turn to face you.

“Dinner is ready, bubs,” you say, somewhat humoured by the visible conflict on their faces—they manage to settle on remaining disgruntled, though, much to your disappointment.

They rise from the couch, pouting, and follow you to the dining table. They seat themselves without another word, and as soon as they see you reaching for your fork and taking your first bite, they follow suit. You think they plan to stay silent throughout the entirety of dinner, but you manage to wear them down enough that Seokjin lets slip a few sentences of how their day went and what they got up to. Aside from that, dinner passes quickly and somewhat tensely. It’s an odd tension, though, as though it’s not yet fully formed and kind of incomplete. Like there’s a lack of conviction and commitment to it.

As soon as they’re done eating, like the sweet boys they are they take their dishes to the kitchen, rinse them off and load them into the dishwasher along with the other containers and utensils used for dinner. You rinse your own bowl as well once done and pop it in with theirs; without even a glance in your direction, Taehyung adjusts it so the fan won’t hit it and then slides the full drawers in, placing a dishwashing tablet in and turning it on. Efficient; he certainly wastes no time about it.

Already even before this point, you knew that they were going to try and bolt the second they could—and it seems your predictions come true, as the second they hear the dishwasher turn on and begin its cycle, the two of them are inching towards the edge of the kitchen, barely an ounce of sneakiness to their name. Fighting a sigh, you dry your hands before taking a few steps and using them to definitively grasp their own. As you lace your fingers together, the two hybrids freeze, Taehyung shooting you a wide-eyed look and Seokjin faltering in his stride.

"Will you two stay, if you're not too tired?" You ask, a shred of vulnerability more than planned making itself known in your voice. "They added some movies I really like to Netflix, and I really wanted to show you. I thought we could watch them together...?"

You can tell the second you look at Taehyung's face, his features softened and eyes shining, that he's given up giving you the cold shoulder for the night. Seokjin's slumped shoulders, tension having fled at your words, also tell you that he's on the same page as his brother. You brush your thumb over his hand and feel his grip tighten as he turns to you, smiling slightly.

"Of course we're not tired yet, what did you want to watch?"

You spend the rest of the night curled with them on the couch, tension long gone and only warm affection drawing the three of you together, and can't help but think maybe this was the last of their protests. They're sweet, these boys, and you know part of the reason they're upset is that you're leaving when they want you to be here, spending time with them.

But alas, it is not to be, and your optimism is quickly shot down.

Their reaction to your continued absence during the work days persists. Each morning you wake and get ready for work, your two hybrids are there almost every step of the way pleading with you to stay, offering any bribe they can think of onto the table to aid their bid—cuddles on the couch, snacks, movies, naps. Admittedly, each day it gets a little harder to steel your resolve and actually go to work, but you try not to let them see that they’re gradually wearing you down. They’re too endearing for their own good—it probably isn’t healthy for them to have you as wrapped around their fingers as they currently do.

At this point, you get the sense that it’s not just one, but a number of reasons at play that make them so averse to you leaving for work. It occurs to you that they’re probably still a bit insecure, given their background and the fact they haven’t actually been here that long. But at the same time, it feels like it’s also more than that.

You work as a nanny and babysit children, but since you work for families who are usually perched on the upper echelon, it’s not uncommon for you to be spending a lot of time in proximity to other hybrids as well. Ever since they were first created, hybrids have been a symbol of wealth and affluence. Despite much more of the middle and working class having them as companions these days, in a sense that earlier attitude still stands. A few of the families you work for have hybrids, two of them having more than one. Thankfully, none of them mistreat their hybrids, in actuality you were surprised upon first working for them to find that they’re treated almost as well as the children are. It makes you happy to see such a shift from the common attitude, and the hybrids themselves are all so lovely that even when the kids have crummy days and want nothing more than to throw tantrums, you have no complaints.

Despite just over a week and a half of avoidance about why they’re so grumpy, it seems today is the day you’re finally going to gain an insight into the cause of their behaviour and push your hybrids over a line you didn’t even know was there until they cross it.

It’s a Friday where you’ve just arrived home after working with one of those families with multiple hybrids, that you seem to push your own over a line of sorts. You’re a little tired as you come through the door, eagerly slipping your boots off and hanging your bag and jacket up. Neither of the hybrids come running to greet you, as they might have done before you ‘betrayed’ them and started leaving the house for work. You’re less amused than you might have been in days prior, and more pouty—ever since they started cuddling you you’ve grown addicted, and you miss the warmth and affection when you’re away.

Well, you suppose today you’ll either have to go find them or let them gradually come to you.

Humming to yourself, you bring the take-away boxes of stir fry the family had been so kind to share with you into the living room, plopping them on the coffee table with some cutlery. They tinkle and clank together obnoxiously, as most metal items do, and you open a box and sit back, waiting for the sound and the smell of meat to rouse the hybrids from wherever they’re hiding.

You don’t have to wait long—Taehyung is the first to appear, his eyes lighting up on instinct the second he sees you, before he catches himself and smooths his expression, averting his eyes to the food on the table and taking one of the boxes and some cutlery. Even when he’s pouting, he can’t stand being too far away from you; he perches on the cushion next to you, but as far away as the armrest will allow him so that he can still let you know he’s not happy you left this morning. He’s so cute, sitting there and pouting as he shoves stirfry in his mouth, you can’t even find it in yourself to be annoyed at his childlike behaviour. The two of you eat in silence until Seokjin comes, the male’s soft footfalls announcing his presence before the sound of his inquisitive sniffing does.

You look up as he enters the room, curious to see if the fox hybrid will continue giving you a weak attempt at the cold shoulder as he has been for the first hour or so after you get home every night. He does, but when you give him a pleasant greeting with a bright smile you can see his resolve waver. He grabs his food and cutlery and sets up on the couch adjacent to this one, pointedly avoiding your eyes lest his resolve completely shatter. There is a small amount of tension in the air but you decide to let them finish their meals before you address it. Enough is enough but you’re all also hungry.

The second both of them are done and sitting back in content, you stack the boxes and push them further into the middle of the table so they don’t tip. Your movement brings you closer to Seokjin, and he sniffs subtly before his nose wrinkles and his brows draw down harshly. He doesn’t say anything, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip instead, but you catch it nonetheless.

Curious at the reaction and knowing (hoping) you don’t smell bad, you turn to Taehyung and lean closer experimentally to see if he will give a similar response. He does, still not looking at you—surprise filters through you when you see his features twist into a scowl. Wow, this past week you’re really seeing a new side to the shy baby, huh?

“Alright, what is it?” you ask, throwing the question into the tense air before either of them can bolt and fester with whatever mood they’re in. “Why are the two of you so upset and why do you pull that face when I get close? Do I stink?”

To his credit, Seokjin appears a little sheepish at being called out, cheeks flushing with brief embarrassment—Taehyung on the other hand remains steadfast and petulant, crossing his arms. His ears are lowered and still, he refuses to look at you.

“…No,” Seokjin answers you, eyes flicking away. He’s pouting, tone bordering on a grumble. “It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

You blink, surprised at the sass and distance he’s suddenly putting between you. It didn’t take you long after they arrived to realise that Seokjin preferred open communication and honesty, but had a little trouble working up the nerve to say things sometimes and hence stayed quiet instead. But this time he’s fibbing to you, brushing it under the rug and attempting to dismiss it when you can see something is up. You can’t help but wonder what brought that about.

“Oh?” you say, turning your gaze to Taehyung—the action makes you catch him while glimpsing at you and he rips his gaze away, cheeks flushing as he scowls more. “It’s ‘nothing’ that has the two of you so grumpy?”

Seokjin’s brows drew together, lips tugging down into a frown. Your words seem to set him off a bit, as he’s suddenly on the defensive. “No.  Maybe. What do you care? You’re never here anymore and you—you probably don’t even care about us anymore. You’re too busy caring about—about other h-people. Whatever.”

Your brows shoot up as he stands suddenly, Taehyung following suit—you can tell that Seokjin wants to stomp off and keep being dramatic by ignoring you, but he can’t seem to make himself skip saying goodnight to you. So he says it, but makes sure to imbue it with as much sass and attitude as possible. “Goodnight.”

Completely taken aback, you watch as they file out of the living room and no doubt go to make their way upstairs to their room. You’re not angry, but you’re definitely a bit confused and feel a little guilty, among other feelings that quickly begin to make themselves known. The two of them know that you look after children for your job, and when you told them it didn’t seem to make them bitter or envious—it seems more than a little out of character for them to be upset that you leave them to babysit kids now.

You’re actually a little hurt, if only because you’re also confused and have no idea why they’re acting this way. You have no idea, and they won’t tell you—you could probe further, press harder, but will that make them tell you, or will it push them further away? You don’t want to risk upsetting them more, and if that’s a possibility you don’t think you could make yourself follow through with it.

Sitting there on the couch, completely alone and very aware of the absence of their warmth, your chest aches a little. You’re new to this, you don’t know all the things a new hybrid owner probably should, and it shows. Your first instinct is to focus on them—what is their problem?—but now that you sit here and ruminate a little, you realise that this is more than a little bit your fault. If you were a more knowledgeable owner, then surely you’d have at least an inkling as to what is wrong. But you don’t, you’re so painfully in the dark it’s shameful enough to make a fresh wave of guilt course through you.

You need to find out more, research a little, but you’re not sure where to start. You have no clue what is bothering them in the first place, and even less idea as to how to solve it. Deep in your thoughts, you rise and begin tidying up after dinner in a bit of a haze. You almost drop the cutlery on the way to the kitchen, but manage to catch it just at the last second. After cleaning what you needed to, you made your way to your bedroom and curled into the bed, a frown tugging your lips of its own accord. It takes you a while to settle down and fall asleep as your mind races and leaves you in its wake. You really hope this whole thing doesn't go on for too long, because it's only been a single night that they've ignored you like this and it sucks.

The next day after you work-- a different house to yesterday, one with two male hybrids of the labrador variety-- the reaction is much the same, if not worse. They don't even come out when you call them for dinner, having arrived home early enough to actually make it today. At some point, they come out and take their plates of food, but you miss it, which you're quite upset at yourself for. The first and only time you see them that evening, is by chance as you emerge from your room after a shower and catch a glimpse of them scuttling back to their own. Their dishes are on the kitchen bench when you go to fetch some water, and it makes your heart twinge a little. They're really not going to talk to you at all? You don't think you're doing anything that bad! You have no choice but to leave for work, you need income so you can support yourself and now them. It's not something you can just drop and never deal with, and you have a feeling they know that and yet... something is upsetting them. You just want them to tell you, so that you can try and fix it however you can.

That night, you contemplate knocking on their door and seeking them out, and even get all the way to the closed door of their room before you halt, hand in the air. Ultimately, you can't make yourself do it. Perhaps, if they want to be alone, then leaving them alone is best. Heart hanging heavy in your chest, you turn on your heel and silently make your way to your room, but not before you utter a soft "Goodnight, boys." knowing that no matter how quietly you say it, they'd still hear it.

Your mood is looking like it's about to quickly spiral, so in an effort to prevent it you find yourself in the middle of a self-consolation session. Tomorrow you don't have any work, a day off you've been looking forward to, so surely that will cheer them up and make them emerge from their shells? You miss them, and as you curl into your bed once more without the lingering warmth of their usual cuddles that you seem to have grown accustomed to, you feel lonelier than ever.

You really hope that tomorrow, things will turn around a little.

a/n: i hope u enjoy it n please let me know what u think! the next part is already partially done so it shouldn’t be too long before the next part is out! hurray for the academic year ending here !!

masterlist || prev. | next.

[marshmallowprotection]

Heyyo, I was wondering what Rfa + minor trio's reactions would be to a MC that always has stray cats following them wherever they go? Please and thank you! I love your writing too!

Yoosung 

Cannot believe that you have this sort of energy about you then lets animals just seemingly pop up and follow you anywhere that you seem to go. Honestly, he thinks that it's sort of a nifty trait. It's like you're some kind of cartoon royalty that can get animals to pop up! It may just be cats but he thinks it's silly to see you sit down outside to eat and you get hounded by some cats. They just want to be your best friend and hang out with you and he has never experienced this level of animal communication. 

Sort of chuckles, "You know, you could help all these stray cats by taking them to the shelter if they're willing to follow you. It could do a lot of good." 

Zen

Babe, he's trying to enjoy this morning run but he can't focus because another cat is following the two of you and he's starting to think he angered some God. You have to reassure him that cats just really like you and they won't bother him. He tends to take this as a sign that opposites are meant to attract and be together as he can't stand them and you bask in their love. It is a union that will come but it is one that he will struggle with.

"I love you, but I think all of our dates are going to be indoors from now on. I can't risk my allergies acting up! Babe, you were blessed with good power but it is one that I must contend with daily for my sake. Don't pity me, I love you." He will be a little bit of a drama queen. 

Jaehee 

She… okay, she doesn't hate animals but she has a lot of trouble with them if they shed or make a fuss for her life. She didn't realize that you were a cat whisperer but it became abundantly clear when the neighborhood cats dropped by the cafe more and more when you were working and you just smiled and waved at the little felines. She thinks this is open but you just laugh and tell her that cats like you a lot. She just doesn't want them to brush on her clothes is all. 

"...I adore how they love you but please, ask them not to shed in front of the cafe if you can. That's all I ask." 

Jumin 

You mentioned that you also had an affinity for cats. She did not realize that what you meant by that was that cats seemingly liked you no matter what was happening or what you did. Jumin couldn't believe it until he saw it but, huh, cats really do like you. Elizabeth adores you and every time you go oi out, all sorts of cats want to warm up to you. He thinks this is a phenomenal ability and applauds for you it. Cats can be picky creatures so the ones they like deserve some high praise. 

"I don't suppose you would consider helping me with a few projects in the future? It would be nice to know what cats like and what they don't like. Elizabeth  has never held such fondness for another person as you, nor have I,  so I know this is meant to be."

Seven 

You've been blessed with a talent that he has always coveted. He has always wanted cats to flock to him and see if he were the Pied Piper, however, he is not that fortunate. But it seems as though fate did him a favor by bringing you into his life. The minute you told him that cats flock to you like a bunch of hungry birds, he decided he fell in love with you even more. He can't believe it when he sees it but it sincerely excites him. He flops down on the ground by your side as the cats decidedly come by for treats and hugs. 

"Y/N! I love you! I've never been happier in my entire life so could you make me the happiest man by adopting all of these cats with me?" 

V

It makes no difference to him what sort of nifty tricks you have about yourself but he does think this is a rare skill. He isn't big on animals but that doesn't mean he isn't fond of them. You oftentimes walk around and bring a tag along stray or two with you. He can't help but chuckle a little bit and comment on it. You two do make sure they get somewhere that they are safe and sound but apart from that, your skill is something he doesn't tease you over or anything. He thinks it's just another part of what makes you so special to the Earth. 

"Y/N, you're really amazing. I think everyone who meets you is smitten and the animals are just a testament to your shining fortune." 

Saeran 

It seems like a giant hassle. Cats following you everywhere and you don't have a say or a choice in when they bother you or when they don't? Yeah, the last thing that Saeran wants is to be involved with. He's never really had an opinion about animals but he does think when you mention this talent of yours that it must be a joke or at the very least, something that you feel is odd enough to joke about. He can't believe it when he sees you with a hoard of cats. They aren't awful, he decides, when they just curl up at his feet and bop around for a head pat or whatever. 

Vanderwood

They could care less either way about the animals that flock to you. It's a talent, a curse, or a blessing, whatever you want to call it. It makes no difference to them or their life on the matter. It is something they wish you could get a handle on because it seems like neither of you can have a normal outing as you keep running into cats. You, being so sweet, always take care if them but really, it isn't your responsibility to be so damn nice all the time. They won't say it but they do love how kind and sweet you are. Nobody will know that, except you in the dead of night when Vanderwood thinks you're sleeping.

"Do you think you can let them know we're on a date and that means you're taken for the afternoon? Tch."

[jaime-brienne-fic-exchange]

Fic Exchange Recap Post, Part 7

For the next few days, we will be posting recaps of the fics in the exchange collection, sorted by canon and chronological order of posting. If you see something you like, the fic you received, or the fic you wrote, please feel free to reblog! If you see a fic you missed, click away! Share the love!

Historical/Genre AU

Catch me if you can, Lannister! by Ro_Nordmann for a_wide_and_roiling_sea

(Oneshot | 1,267 words | Alternate Universe - Bounty Hunters)

It wasn’t much of a shock that once I woke up, her scent was everywhere, embedded inside my nostrils, covering my skin and inside my wretched-fucking soul. I tried to move but my limbs felt numb from being locked into the same position for hours, bound in cuffs, and sharing the same space with Babydoll.

It was inconceivable that her legs were so long and must be asleep as mine, as they held me down, covered in tight black jeans that outlined her fit physique. I wanted to peel them off and kiss every scar on her skin, a vivid testament to her tenacity and skill.

Lay Your Heartbreak by sdwolfpup for Cerulean_Phoenix7

(6/6 Chapters | 28,665 words | Alternate Universe - Bodyguard, Near Future)

Everyone but Addam has been fired or scared away by the raging lion, and she's the only fresh meat left. The few times she's seen Addam since he started this assignment, he's looked exhausted, even when he tries to smile and shrug it off. No one understands how or why Addam's lasted this long, although there are plenty of rumors: some harmless, some assuredly not. But Brienne agrees to take this job specifically to help him, because he's helped her since she first joined the protection force. She will not let Jaime Lannister scare her away, too.

In some sense, she's the perfect choice: Jaime's ability requires touch to work, and no one touches Brienne.

Sword and Shield by winterstale24 for Roccolinde

(1/4 Chapters | 3,385 words | Magical Realism)

Written for Roccolinde's prompts

Author's favourite trope! I want to see what you love - and, so, we have bickering Jaime and Brienne.

SVRCINA - Meet Me On The Battlefield -- any inspiration from this is fine, but a take on a Long Night that lasts more than a few hours would definitely be welcome

Tell me a ghost story. It can be canon or AU, spooky or bittersweet or funny, whatever you like! Bonus points if Jaime or Brienne is the ghost, but not necessary

 ******

He knew the answer before she could huff and snort and screw her jewel-blue eyes shut. Brienne Payne might be a glorified, flannel-wearing barmaid, but she lusted for Valyrian steel as much as Jaime did. Hells, he knew the answer two swords ago, the first time he’d crossed the threshold of The Evenstar and asked her to take him out on the Tarth fells for a look around.

The Shooting Party by sea_spirit for Weirwoo

(5/5 Chapters | 16,024 words | Alternate Universe - 1920s)

Scotland, 1921. When Brienne finds out her father is bringing an unwelcome guest from her past to join a shooting party at Winterfell, Sansa suggests that she ask her friend Lord Jaime Lannister for his assistance.

those who seek to find by ice_connoisseur for LibKat

(Oneshot | 22,311 words | Jumanju AU)

But anyway, that was how it started: Arya found the game, and Sansa rolled the dice.

When you play the game of Jumanji, you win or you die.

[nightingiall]

quarantine fic rec in honor of 1daaw

hi, friends! 

it’s been so long since i actually sat down and read fic and what better time to catch up on all of these wonderful writings than when we’re all stuck at home. over the past few weeks i’ve been slowly compiling this list, and while i haven’t even made a dent in my to-reads, i decided to post what i have so far in honor of 1daaw. as i read more over the next few weeks since we’ll still be stuck at home, i will try to compile more fic rec lists as i feel like this is a great way to show some love to my favorite stories and authors. i haven’t had a chance to reach out to all these amazing writers to tell them how much i love these stories, so if you’re on here, take this as my official love letter to you. 🥰

niall fics:

and they’ll hang us in the louvre by @in-madhouses​ 

there is SO MUCH about this fic that i absolutely fell in love with. the enemies to lovers trope, the characters, the plot, and the absolutely fantastic writing are all to die for. basically, niall and his friends (aka some of the 1d boys) are actors on a television adaptation of the marauders (so already i’m like !!!!!!) and aahna is a recurring guest star on the show. the two of them just grate at each others’ nerves the whole time they have to shoot together and it’s all quick-witted banter and heated moments and exquisite characterization. aahna is unapologetically herself, not afraid to tell it like it is (the rant about the neocolonialism of southeast asian cuisine in the prologue was the best thing ever) and she’s definitely up there as one of my favorite OFCs of all time. 

this story is witty and fun and a perfect light-hearted read. inm is such a gorgeous writer and some of the lines in this story read like poetry. i literally found myself stopping on multiple occasions and going wow. honestly, what a treat. inm also has a self-isolation drabble series that i’ve been meaning to get into and i can’t wait to start reading that as well. 

but oh, my heart still burns by @houseofbrokenhearts​ 

as i started to read this story, i had the biggest smile on my face. it begins with shane and niall as young, inseparable best friends and continues on into their adulthood in which things get complicated, as they always do in these scenarios. it’s nostalgic and innocent and sort of whimsical. i laughed at the part where shane is upset at not getting a cell phone when niall does because it reminded me of being a kid in a similar situation. also the scenes where they reunite after years of being apart? impeccable. 

this story has beautiful writing. i felt as though i could feel every emotion as shane was feeling them, and once i started i just couldn’t put this down. it has not been updated in a while which, as a writer who has also left her fics only to update months or years later, i understand that life gets in the way or we may lose motivation or whatever. but, whatever the future holds for this story, i just want to put it out there that i so so so adore it, and niall and shane are one of those fic pairings that i will possibly never stop thinking about. 

why did we climb and fall so far by @niallismymuse​

first of all, holy shit. when i finished reading this i literally sobbed my eyes out and then laid in bed staring at the ceiling for an hour. this fic is only four chapters and it made me feel so many things. at points, i was looking at my screen with heart eyes because niall and ellie are so in love and then i was laughing because their banter is the cutest and then all of a sudden i’m getting my fucking heart broken. 

second, i think it’s a testament to how wonderful a writer shelly is to be able to elicit these emotions so powerfully, taking us all on a rollercoaster of intense feelings. the prose on this is just phenomenal and there were lines that absolutely took my breath away. i am so picky with what i read sometimes because fiction has this ability to take you places you may not be prepared to go (definitely a trigger warning on this for heavy themes), but i am so happy i found this because it was such beautiful writing. i can’t even begin to imagine the energy and emotional willpower it must have taken to write this, so to shelly, thank you for sharing your words with us. this story is definitely one i won’t be forgetting anytime soon, and i can’t wait to dive into the rest of your stories. 

harry fics:

matchmaking for experts by @booksncoffee​

eriza is one of the most prolific writers of the 1dff community and her consistency and drive is something i enormously admire. this story is just one of many really fantastic ones from her and i urge everyone to go check out her masterlist--you won’t be disappointed. 

but anyway, back to matchmaking for experts--it’s only one chapter in and i am already hooked. there is so much to unpack in just one installment: harry’s apparent tense relationship with his father, the colorful workplace environment of the matchmaking service, the slight mutual pining between maia and harry that i anticipate will only grow as this story goes on and i am hype for it. i’m right there with the rest of the matchcierge staff in lowkey giving maia and harry’s relationship the side eye and rooting for them. all in all, it’s a fantastic beginning. eriza, you are so talented, and i can’t wait to see where this story goes. 

rumor has it by @stylishmuser​

first off, p is wonderful and brilliant and she deserves all the praise in the world. this story is the perfect collision of my two favorite worlds (bollywood and 1d) and i absolutely adore it so far. i don’t even think i have enough words to describe how much i love this story and its characters. literally, if ishika were a real person i’d want to protect her with my whole life. her characterization and history are crafted so so well; she’s vulnerable and strong and determined. i can’t wait to watch how she grows throughout this story. 

also, there are moments that literally have me staring at my screen with the biggest heart eyes: ishika making harry taste pani puri, harry being so soft and gentle with her at the beach and at her fitting, the pining. i am literally so in love. p also writes this story with such care and precision that it shows. it is so intricately crafted with so many layers and is just such a pleasure to read. she also updates so often that i am in awe of her drive. i have to dive into the rest of her stories, which i know are absolutely amazing even if i haven’t read them yet, and i’m looking forward to that as well. p, what a beautiful story. i can’t wait to see where it goes. 

--

i know there are so many more fics that i need to read and i’m always taking recs in my inbox. until then, happy reading, and don’t forget to send some love to these authors when you’re done!

[theholycovenantrpg]

In the beginning was ISOLDE WICKEN, a GIFTED loyal to the cause of the HUNDRED-EYED GOD. She is said to be TWENTY-EIGHT and uses SHE/HER pronouns. In this New Testament she serves as a ALL-SEEING PRIESTESS of the HUNDRED-EYED GOD. Blessed be her name.

THE INDELIBLE MARK.

As the only Seer, Isolde was quickly given the status of All-Seeing Priestess within the religion of the Hundred-Eyed God. Her visions often depict the endings of things and are highly subjective. She is able to bear witness to the outcomes of different decisions, however it is difficult for her to focus on specific people and scenarios without a great deal of mental power and concentration since she can become overwhelmed by her Sight. Due to this, she may have to meditate for hours or even days before being able to give definitive details. It takes quite a physical toll on her and can render her incapacitated due to the fact that when she was a vision it is almost like being swept into a waking dream -- she has difficulty pulling herself from its overwhelming tide. However, many people within positions of power still seek to solicit her and utilize her gifts, hoping that they might obtain some control of their future. It is why her journalings are coveted and carefully guarded by those who are closest to her. As all who have suffered and survived the Blood Plague, Isolde’s scars are obvious and unsettling: her vision was heavily impaired and her eyes, once warm, dark and warm as they were, now look as though they are made of molten gold with similar colored tear stains falling along the curves of her cheeks.

THE HISTORY.

TW: VERBAL ABUSE, ABUSE IMPLICATIONS

From the moment she was nothing more than a beating heart, she knew what it was to be cursed. She knew what it was to never work quite right -- each breath seemed to make her lungs ache, every too-loud thump of her heart seemed like an offense against her, her bones seemed to grind against one another; Isolde was  an ever-evolving study of how intimate a person can become with suffering, with pain. Yet still, she learned to bear such things with an enigmatic smile and an endearing bat of her lashes, steps as light as naiad’s, laughter as bewitching as a siren’s. There wasn’t much choice in the matter given to her, the Wicken family being such an auspicious name within the confines of the Holy Land. Their name was a gilded one, murmured among the society’s elite, often with a mix of reverence or envy -- oftentimes there being a mixture between the two. Such a legacy necessitated perfection from every figure bearing the name; her parents were philanthropists and innovators, her cousins were highly regarded socialites, and she had no commendations to speak of. Isolde was bright, but not clever and personable, but not quite charming. In a world where excellence was expected, mediocrity was tantamount to the most abysmal of failures. And, as she looked at herself in the mirror, she could not help but shed a tear at the mundane creature that looked back at her with red-rimmed eyes.

How could she see past the horror of her own reflection when her mother clutched her shoulder, nails digging into flesh, all too eager to highlight the faults that were to be found? Never did the great Lady Wicken dare to pass a chance to compare her daughter against the other socialites and heirs, sneering each time at how Isolde paled in comparison; a weed that marred the garden of carefully cultivated beauty. All the while her father acted as though his mouth had been sewn shut, content to look on, far more interested in what glitter of his next mistresses’ eyes rather than the bleakness that was to be found in his offspring’s. When one is told that their mundanity is a curse, that their excellence is passable and their accomplishments are subpar, it is difficult to believe otherwise. You have nothing to offer this world, little Isolde, her mother hissed into her ear, you have more to offer the worms in the garden, you have more to offer by withering away. It is difficult to imagine that there is a world of color when you are told - time and time again - that there are only muted grays. It took her a great while to realize that a sculpture is simply a block of stone before an artisan liberates the beauty from its marble confines -- a painting is a blank canvas until someone dares to bespeckle it with rich, vibrant colors. The realization dawned on her the moment that her tutor strode into her life with their great, bellowing laughter and ruddy cheeks. 

They liberated her from her stony confines, coaxing from her laughter so arresting that it would leave her with aching cheeks and streams of tears. It was through them that she learned how gentle hands could be more cutting than the blunt edge of a blade, how tender words could cause a more fatal blow than any strike to the heart. Slowly, deliberately, the colors of gray that had painted her world sloughed off like the blood and mud that blinded a warrior’s gaze; suddenly, her vision was clear and she could see the world with its vibrant, impassioned hues. She had been through the hell of her own soul and came through it wielding a sword of empathy and compassion -- how could she not want to aid others in their quest to do the same? But the moment that this red-flamed dream flared to life, it was dashed away. Not only was her newfound dream stolen from her, but the source of its inspiration too. In a fit of fevered, scarlet-colored tears her great mentor was stolen away. Crying out in anguish, she held their pale, limp hands in hers -- she begged and she pleaded, bargaining with the Hundred-Eyed God to return them to her, striking at their hollow chest in despair when her cries fell on ears of stone. 

The pain that befell her when the Blood Plague took hold of her soul was welcome. It was a relief to the numbness of her grief -- just as it was a relief for her parents to turn their backs to her, taking advantage of the opportunity to rid themselves of a daughter that they considered a blight on their name. Throughout the bouts of her fevered agony she clung to the one memory of her mentor that had been left to her; a delicately carved thing, gilded and as pale as bone. She should have died, and there was no denying that something within her did. However, as the fever abated, as those abhorrent parts of her soul were burned to ash, something took root in her. When she stepped forth upon the great green earth, with her eyes of molten gold, there was complete and utter clarity to all that she had endured -- and will continue to endure. The world had been born anew, just as she was; it was like a newborn fawn, attempting to rise upon its shaky legs while starved wolves encircled it. The calamity that could befall it might leave it in irreparable ruins. Her vision had been taken from her, but in its place she was able to bear witness to something far greater than that -- was granted a gift that allowed her to see the truth of the matter: the Wicken woman was tasked with shepherding the New Testament, with creating a world greater than the last. With a heart burning so righteous and pure, it was Isolde, and only Isolde, that could ever achieve it. 

THE CONNECTIONS.

ESTIENNE WICKEN: Half-sibling. They are her opposite in every imaginable way and yet the reality of sharing the same name as them is enough to cause bile to rise in her throat. Whatever lessons that her parents failed to instill in her as a youngling seems to have been easily grasped by Estienne. If they did not share the same aristocratic mannerisms and enigmatic smiles that are practically a Wicken trademark, she might have claimed that they were not related at all. But alas, the blood that runs in her veins runs in theirs as well. As Isolde builds her name among the Holy Land’s society, it seems that Estienne is determined to ensure that it is tied with theirs as well -- what could be more winning than spiritual recognition as well as political? The portrait that they paint of themselves incites within her an anger that is barely recognizable, because she has buried it for so long; it has festered like an open wound and the mere mention of Estienne’s name is like rubbing raw sea salt upon it.

ZADKIEL: Heartache. When he looks at her, she feels as though she is drowning. Not within her own despair, no -- this is a very nuanced sort of pain. In the throes of her fevered dreams, his face had appeared to her, lingering over her shoulder, the edges of his wings brushing against her cheek. It did not take long for her to place the pieces together. The look that painted his gaze when his eyes flickered between hers, the slight downward tilt of his lip, the palpable pounding of her heart and the ineffable ache that descended upon her. He had been tasked to be her guardian angel at one point in time -- and he had either forsaken his duty or failed at it. And to be honest, she is not entirely sure which possibility might be more cruel. What she is sure about is this: the fact that he dares to see her at all, to talk to her, and grow close to her and tug at her heart-strings so shamelessly is the most sadistic thing he could do. (Why, then, can’t she bring herself to make him stop?)

GADRIEL: Guardian. It was odd, initially, having a shadow with teeth -- stepping forth and knowing that a creature that once brought forth ruin hounded her steps. The guardian of the High Priestess was initially a means of the angels demonstrating their good will towards a religion that they would rather those within the kingdom of Caelum not ascribe to. It was made an all the more imperative position to hold once word spread of Isolde’s abilities; having an angel so close to a mortal that was so powerful could only be seen as leverage. But she has found that Gadriel’s presence serves as a comfort more than anything -- the angel’s rather stalwart protection of the Seer being the only thing she can depend on when in the throes of a vision. It is odd, she thinks, how much solace one can take in a creature so rigid that she seems to be rendered from marble. It is even more odd, then, how fond Isolde has grown of her.

ORIAS: Catalyst. She cannot help the singularly unnerving feeling of being a sparrow caught within the sights of a hawk whenever she steps into Orias’ line of vision. She feels their gaze upon her, fixated like an arrow, string taught and ready for release. Though they have never given her a reason to think that there was any animosity or maliciousness in their intent, she still remains attuned to the small details of the interactions. The way that their eyes seem to drink her in, the curl of their mouth, the merest twitch of their fingers are all meticulously noted and analyzed in the night, when the moon is high and the shadows pervade every corner of her room. There is something primordial that resonates within Isolde whenever they approach her, something ancient that yawns widely the longer Orias is within her presence. And Isolde refuses to be blindsided when it truly awakes.

Isolde is portrayed by Sydney Harper* and was written by ROSEY. She is currently TAKEN by LISSA.