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myouicieloz · 9 months

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New Year’s kiss

Huh Yunjin x best friend!reader

Synopsis: Yunjin isn’t sure of how she’ll tell you about her going back to Korea to debut, but as the deadline to present herself approaches, she doesn’t have much of a choice.

Warnings: dom!yunjin x sub!reader. a little angst and a little smut (rushed bc I rlly wanted to finish this and I won’t be able to tmr).

Word count: 3.3k

Notes: happy New Years! See you in 2024 ^^

“Your parents have outdone themselves, this year.” Yunjin says, opening the door to the balcony. The party’s going hard inside the penthouse, but she’s surprised to find you alone, staring at the bright lights of the city.

You give her a small smile, accepting the champagne she hands you. “You know they always go all out. It’s their thing, I guess. Partying.”

As your best friend, she’s fully aware of the pain in your voice. Part of herself wishes she didn’t have to add sadness to your night, too.

“But not yours.” She remarks, nudging you. You laugh, nodding. She knows you well.

“But not mine.” You confirm, drinking from the glass. “Which time is it right now, by the way?”

“We still have a few minutes before midnight.” Yunjin answers you, after looking at her phone to check for the time. Only ten minutes until midnight, she remarks. She has ten minutes to tell you the news.

The two of you stay in a comfortable silence after you hum in acknowledgment, one that only comes from knowing someone for so long. You can’t help but notice the way her grip on the glass tightens, aligned with deep breaths and a twitchy, uneasy posture. You let your best friend take her time, though, not pressuring her to answer. Part of you is already aware of what has her so hesitant, anyway.

Perhaps it’s best for her to not talk at all.

Yunjin breathes in, once, twice, before brushing your hair out of your neck, silently trying to get you to look at her. Leaning front to the balcony, you still pretend the city lights are the most interesting thing to ever exist, as if the girl besides you isn’t the only thing who’s ever had your complete attention.

“Y/n.” She calls, huffing in frustration when you only hum, still refusing to acknowledge her. “Y/n, would you please look at me?”

Unable to deny your best friend the simplest requests, you turn your body towards the red-haired. You take her in, fearing she’d go away with a blink: her plumpy lips, her rosy cheeks… her big, expressive eyes, looking at you with such hopelessness it nearly drives tears out of your own. She’s as hurt as you are, you know it as much.

Although, knowing that doesn’t keep you from blaming her.

“I-“ Yunjin struggles to have the words come out of her mouth, choking softly in her own saliva. Her breathing is erratic, and her nails have been deeply bitten, by now. Even though you feel like a cracked glass, threatening to shatter, you manage to grab your best friend’s hand, giving her strength to continue. You’re always caught in that loop, of selfishness and selfness, when it comes to her. The urge to comfort and protect Yunjin while wanting to shut her down, trying not to get yourself hurt. “Source Music called. They want me to be their trainee and debut in their new group, next year. I’ve finished reading the contract copy they sent this afternoon.”

Yunjin was nothing short of surprised once the company had reached out to her, talking about her performance in Project 48 and how they considered her to be a great fit for their upcoming group, Le Sserafim. It felt unreal; unbelievable and too good to be true— she had dreamt about receiving such a call for countless times, wondering when she’d be enough, and it was finally happening. Her agency was into the final steps of negotiation with the company, since the talks have been going nonstop for weeks now. They were starting to get impatient, demanding she flew back to Korea to adjust her contract’s final enclosures. She was supposed to be in Seoul for days now, but Yunjin refused to leave without properly addressing you, her best friend and most feverish supporter, first.

And she’s been trying so hard to talk to you, but the words disappear from her mind each time she intends on doing so. Her palms sweat, her mouth dries out, and she’s suddenly gasping for air, unsure of what to do. She just can’t disappoint you like that. She’s promised not to leave you too many times now.

“I-“ You stop yourself, reminding your brain to be gentle towards your best friend, who looks at you expectantly, like you’re the most precious gem in the world. For that reason, you force a smile to grow on your face. “That’s phenomenal, Jen. You’ll shine bright. It’s what you’re born to do, after all.”

She smiles, feeling the blush adorning her face. Even if she knows you’re not entirely sincere, it’s always nice to be praised by you. Yunjin has always found herself doing the silliest things, just to earn one of your proud smiles or encouragements. She quickly recomposes herself, though.

“Now be truthful. Say what you really mean.” She demands, fixing your hair. Her fingers brush your ear, and it’s hard not to shiver at her touches, always so delicate around you. Loving, caring. Just how she’s always been.

You take a deep breath, closing your eyes as you allow your body to feel how Yunjin always makes you feel: like the fireworks are actually inside your stomach, erupting slowly. Now leaning back completely on the banister, you try your best to keep your voice from quivering. It’s the reason you bite your lip hard, looking up to the stars to prevent tears from streaming down your face.

“I know it’s selfish to say, but y-you just got back.” Your attempts do little to hide your fragile, faltering voice fail, the moment you open your eyes again. Yunjin is playing with her hands, not looking at you either. All in favor of keeping herself from touching you. “I-I thought you had warmed up to BU. You even said you were excited to be my roommate, despite the mess I always make.”

With her decision of enrolling later than most students, her belongings weren’t even fully unpacked, waiting for both girls to come back from winter break to be put into their places. And, despite being devastated about her decision of leaving the K-pop industry, you’ve been noticing how Yunjin has been smiling and engaging more with every passing week, slowly returning to her usual, bubbly self. It was subtle, but you were always there, giving her strength, and Yunjin was starting to enjoy the college experience.

Or so you thought.

Now, with her confession, you were beginning to overthink about how good of a friend you were. Sure, her revelation was something you had been expecting, over the last days; she’d been restless, jumpy—almost sneaky, wordlessly confirming something was wrong. However, hearing her actually say it was entirely different. Your heart hurt, already aching with her future absence, and your cries got stuck in your throat.

“Please, please don’t cry.” Yunjin mumbles, unable to keep herself from touching you. She pulls you close, caressing your hair as you hide your face in the crook of her neck, shoulders moving with your hiccups and cries. She feels so guilty: you’ve been best friends since kindergarten; she shouldn’t be one to bring you pain. “I’m so, so sorry, Y/n. But it’s my dream. I don’t think I’m ready to give up just yet.”

She’s completely right about that, the rational part of your brain knows so. You’re aware she’ll finally get what she’s worked so hard for, and be able to fulfill her passion.

The other part of your brain, however, can’t think past the loud bang inside your head, screaming mainly one thing: Yunjin will leave. Like all the others, she’ll leave you all alone. That’s the only thing you can think of, as you dampen her white tank top with your tears.

You lose track of time, embraced by her cozy arms, and soon your cries are reduced to whimpers. Brushing your nose, you detach yourself from Yunjin, still sniffling slightly.

“When do you leave?” You ask, so focused on the girl staring right at your soul you miss the start of the countdown.

“TEN!”

“On Monday.” She answers, face filled with sadness. She tries to reach out for you once again, but you move sideways.

“NINE!”

“You should’ve said something, anything, sooner.” Yunjin flinches at the sharpness of your tone, along with the way you bring your crossed arms to your chest, seeking protection.

“EIGHT!”

“I couldn’t. I swear, Y/n, I swear I tried so fucking hard to tell you, but every time I tried to it was just…” She’s breathless, representing exactly how she felt whenever she attempted to tell you she was going away.

“SEVEN!”

Yunjin takes two steps closer, trapping your frame between her arms on the balcony. Preventing you from running away, like you so desperately wanted.

“SIX!”

You sigh, defeated, interlocking your hands behind her neck. Her skin feels so familiar, yet completely foreign to you. You wonder how long will it take for you to forget her smell, her mannerisms. Her sweet accent, talking into your ear ever so sweetly. “Is it a good… firm, at least? Will they take good care of you?”

“FIVE!”

“They are, and they will.” She nods, tracing your arms with exquisite touches, almost as if she were afraid you’d push her and leave. “A respected and well-renowned company, I promise you.”

“FOUR!”

You hum, and she’s more than satisfied with your silence, this time— desperate to have even the tiniest bits of your approval.

“THREE!”

Yunjin stares into your eyes, suddenly self-aware of the (lack of) distance between you. She reads your body, looking for any signs of hesitation or discomfort. Instead, she only finds you looking at her behind your lashes, with a pouty gaze.

“TWO!”

“I’m really, truly sorry.” She says, tone serious and regretful, so upset to be hurting you.

“ONE!”

She leans in, brushing your lips. Bringing you in.

“I know.” You say, and nothing else.

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!”

The kiss you share is bittersweet, filled with melancholy and the promise of what you could’ve been, besides best friends. You love each other—always have, in all the ways one could possibly love someone. As best friends, as lovers… you’ve always welcomed Yunjin just as she is: a kind-hearted, caring, loving soul, so attentive towards others. You know the best act of love you could do is let her go, watching her fulfill her dream of being an idol. Still, you’re too flawed to do it that easily.

So you kiss her, soaking up as much of the girl as you can before she leaves. Your hands grip her jacket, bringing her even closer as you break the kiss, gasping for air. You clasp your foreheads together, not wanting to be parted from her, ever. You feel hot, and surely aren’t thinking clear in the slightest. Perhaps, that is the reason you drag her inside, carelessly bumping into the hundreds of guests until you reach your bedroom.

“Room, now.” You murmur, locking the door from inside. Her lips crash onto yours once again, pushing you onto your bed. She straddles your thighs rather harshly, separating and positioning herself in between them, hands everywhere, applying an overwhelming pressure.

None of you care about being patient, taking off your clothes and well aware of the lack of time there is for you to enjoy yourselves. Her mouth attacks your neck, nibbling and sucking on your skin with increasing pressure, letting herself go along with the sounds that come out of your mouth. Yunjin’s hands still haven’t let go of your thighs, pinching and gripping as her thumb brushes the inside of your skin, conscious of the heat it sends down your core. If all, she’s able to feel you shiver, biting your lip in anticipation. The reaction makes her laugh, her hot breath making itself home against your clavicle.

“No t-teasing.” You whine, jokingly trying to push her off you. Your pleads work, though, as she makes her way down your breasts, licking her lips with hunger.

“Be extra loud for the guests, Y/n.” She says, before latching herself onto your nipple. Her teeth graze through your skin, suckling and pinching your boobs to her liking. She blows on them gently, taking pleasure in the way your body was so responsive to her touches— your back arches, and lustrous moans evade your mouth within seconds. A doll, all hers.

Yunjin’s mouth wanders lower, then, leaving a trail of kisses down your stomach.

“How do you want to cum?” She stops briefly, staring at you with her big eyes, always so expressive, letting you choose.

“M’ want you to stay close, please.” You murmur, pushing her, so your lips can meet again. “Don’t be far.”

“So well-mannered.” She praises, pecking your jaw as her hand cups your cunt, still not where you want it the most. “Fingers it is, then.”

Before you can move your hips towards her hands —all hot, bothered and impatient to feel her inside of you, two of Yunjin’s fingers enter your cunt in a single motion, stretching your walls in ways only she could. You let a high cry, loudly just as you were told to be, as your head drops back, nearly colliding with the wall.

You feel complete, finally: with Yunjin’s marks displayed all over your body, the pressure you feel when she towers over you, yet holding you gently, spreading you out to her liking. And the way she just stares at you, with such lust in her eyes… it makes you feel so loved your heart aches, promptly reminding you she’s not yours at all, nor will she ever be.

You don’t even realize the tears streaming down your face until Yunjin hovers over, patiently kissing each one away. They’re salty reminders of the reality, one where you and her can’t coexist— at least not in the way you both want to: without being an ocean away from each other.

“You'll leave me.” You murmur, letting your voice falter as you distract with yourself sucking hickeys on her fair skin, marking her just as she’s done to you. “Just like the others, you’ll leave me. You promised not to, J. You fucking promised.”

And even though Yunjin kisses you sultrily instead of answering, you both know it’s the truth.

“Shh… It’s okay.” She soothes you, still keeping her fingers in and out of your cunt, now adding a third finger. You gasp, loving the new sensation, and she takes the moment of distraction to guide your wrist down your core, “Here.” She collects enough of your juices, bringing your hand up, all shiny and wet. She’s hypnotized, “Look at how soaked up you are. And it’s all for me, right?”

You nod, still letting a few hiccups escape from your mouth, feeling like you should be shy. Yet, you can’t, not with the way she sucks on your fingers so erotically, making sure they’re all clean before shoving her own inside your pussy again. “Always for you, Yunjin.”

“No.” She says, too fast. Kisses you sweetly, then, before begging. “Never call me that. It’s Jen, to you, Y/n. Just Jen.”

Jen. Just how it always has and will always be.

“Ok.” You murmur, letting go of thinking clearly as her fingers pluck in and out of cunt, so wet the noises echo through the room. She’s going so fast it burns, and it’s the most delicious sensation you’ve felt in so long.

“Say it, then.” She avoids your clit entirely, wanting to drag this moment for as long as possible. Yunjin knows she won’t have you like that, so pliable in her arms, ever again. So she savors it. “Say my name, Y/n.”

And you do, moaning her name multiple times. Her rhythm increases more than you thought possible, and as her thumb circles your clit, barely applying any pressure at all, you cum, letting out a high cry and whimpering her name, orgasm hitting deep in your body. It was already on fire, ever since the kiss you shared on the balcony, but now you truly felt as if you were going to explode.

You’re still clinging to Yunjin as your orgasm fades away, taking your time as the waves of pleasure wear off at their own pace. You stay tangled until all that’s left is the sounds of your breathing, steadying with each passing minute.

Once you’ve both cooled down, you grab your clothes, putting them on in silence. You’re not quite sure of what to say to her. Part of you wants to tell Yunjin of how you’re sure she’ll excel at being an idol— she’s already sweet, talented, and bright, so surely doing so in front of others won’t be an issue. However, you also want to scream in her face: she’s promised to not be like everyone; to be always by your side, present no matter what. Now she’s broken such a promise. It leaves you nauseous, feeling so conflicted.

Thankfully, Yunjin knows you too well. She speaks first, tone hesitant.

“I’m not letting you go, ok? I won’t.” It’s a promise, Yunjin’s determinate eyes announce so as she nods, almost as if to convince herself of the fact.

So you nod, too, even though you know it’s a lie. You’ll take whatever she gives you, always.

She knows you need time to process things. Yunjin is well aware of how you work, and for that reason, she goes for the door as soon as she finishes getting ready, too.

“Jen?” You call, making her freeze her hold on the door.

“Yes, my Y/n?”

“You know I’ll always cheer for you and for your success, right? No matter what.” You tell her, smiling weakly. It hurts, and it takes all of you not to push her back into the bed and fuck her brains over, until she was so fucked out the only thing left in her brain was the thought of staying home, with you.

You don’t, though. You know what’s best.

“Of course I do.” She says, quickly drying off her tears, too. “I love you.”

“And I love you more.” You complete the phrase, just as you’ve always done since elementary school.

And when Yunjin leaves, part of your heart goes with her, too.

You only notice the gift hanging on your bedside table in the morning, after waking up with your eyes all red and puffy from crying. It’s a necklace, beautiful and delicate, identical to the one you had found while thrifting at an antique store, weeks prior.

“I’m sorry, young lady, but this is much valuable to me. I don’t even know how it got on the selling pile in the first place. I can’t sell it to you.” The elder owner had told you, even after minutes of you begging for it.

Your hands felt empty without the heart locket, and it took Yunjin a whole afternoon of pampering and buying you gifts until you’d forgotten about it, no longer bearing a pout.

Now, said necklace sits beautifully in your hands, although it’s slightly different from when you took hold of it, at the shop. Instead of flat, it is now carved with your initial, at the front, and Yunjin’s, at the back.

Without any second thoughts, you grab your phone to text her, even though she’d only see it once her plane landed, in Seoul.

“Shine bright, always.” You text her, well aware she will.

#sol writes #kpop x y/n #kpop x you #kpop x reader #kpop smut #huh yunjin x reader #huh yunjin x you #huh yunjin smut #lesserafim x reader #lesserafim smut #lesserafim imagines #huh yunjin imagines

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joys-of-everyday · 1 year

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SJ and the Pitfalls of Toxic Masculinity

Liking women wasn’t shameful in the least, but treating a woman as your savior, shrinking into her embrace in search of self-confidence—Shen Qingqiu needed no one to tell him how incredibly shameful that was. So he would rather die than tell anyone, particularly not Yue Qingyuan.

- Yue Qingyuan and Shen Qingqiu Extra

Hot take: og!SQQ had toxic ideas about masculinity, and it ruined him.

SVSSS is all about the ✨Toxic Masculinity✨ but this seems to be more associated with SY than SJ??? So yeah, lets talk about SJ (my poor meow meow).

There’s actually some subtlety here, because talking about SJ and masculinity naturally involves an interplay between historical and modern views on masculinity in China, which is something that has developed over time and has influences from other cultures (e.g. the west and our views on masculinity). (Interesting thing if you haven't already come across it) I am… not qualified to read the subtleties here.

To note, SJ is coded as masculine… sort of. He’s the head of the scholarly peak, a master of the Four Arts, which is one facet of ideal masculinity in traditional Chinese values. (Fluttering a fan around was very gentleman-like. Although also, expressing your emotions through poetry and copious amounts of tears was very masculine back in the day. 'Traditional masculinity' has and always will be an elusive ideal.) But I get the feeling nowadays ‘scholarly’ has more feminine connotations than ‘martial’, albeit a slightly weaker one than in the west. Also, on the topic of toxic masculinity, certain groups of people Who Shall Not Be Named would like you to believe that Real Chinese Men are stoic warriors and ‘gayness is a western thing’ (my rage is unreal but we will not talk about that).

Anyway, broad strokes, broad strokes.

Arrogance and Insecurity

A big part of toxic masculinity is a need for social recognition, to be the ‘alpha male’ (not an ABO pun and on a side note I literally cannot take anyone talking about alpha males seriously now, for many reasons, but this is the funniest).

SJ is obsessed with his cultivation, but more pertinently, he is obsessed with his reputation. He demonstrates this in a few ways. Firstly, he works his ass off, which is not bad in itself, but he does this to the extent it is detrimental to his health (that grindset lol). Secondly, he projects a certain image with his actions and mannerisms: reading in order to seem intelligent, looking down at people to seem superior etc. Thirdly, he responds to any perceived slights of his ability with violence. (Fighting with LQG is an example, but also drawing a sword on SQH when he pointed out that he was reading an upside-down book.)

Now interestingly, the unanimous vibe that Cang Qiong seem to get from SQQ is that he is ‘arrogant’. When in truth, all of this is compensating for his insecurity.

Shen Qingqiu was overly suspicious, always feeling as if everyone was talking behind his back about how he was still incapable of forming a core, didn’t accept his position, wanted to sabotage him in secret, and so on and so forth.

- Yue Qingyuan and Shen Qingqiu Extra

Sadly, SJ is justified in being afraid of other people’s opinion. His comfort and security rely entirely on his status, which in turn rely on other people’s opinion of his competence. Of course he wants to get to the top – he’s been under other people’s power before, and suffered terribly as a result. Why should he not desperately defend what he has worked so hard for? Yet ultimately it works against him, because when he’s in serious trouble, he hasn’t been able to build the human connections he needs to get help.

The problem is with the system. The idea that having strength allows you to do whatever you want hurts not only the people regarded as inferior, but also creates a collective sense of anxiety for those who find themselves ‘at the top’. Anyone can be kicked down and treated like scum. Everyone is afraid.

Dominance and Bullying

The phrase ‘toxic masculinity is fragile’ quite often, but to elaborate, these kinds of rigid ideas of masculinity are by nature constantly under threat. Because any crack in the perfect shell is regarded as failure, it requires constant, aggressive maintenance, which takes the form of bullying the weak in order to elevate oneself.

SJ’s treatment of LBH is complicated, but here I want to draw attention to a different character – Ming Fan.

SQQ (SY) would have you know that MF is not a bad kid, other than the fact he’s a huge bully to LBH. And in part that comes from jealousy of NYY’s crush on him, but what allows it to happen is the way SJ runs the peak. It's interesting to note that so much of SJ's bullying of LBH happens through MF, whether it be giving him the faulty cultivation manual, giving him chores or physically assaulting him. In doing this, SJ creates a system that firmly establishes himself at the top, likely in order to give himself some semblance of security.

But ironically, this is the very system that SJ has suffered under his entire life, recreated to it's extreme on the peak that he controls. When he was completely under the power of others (QJL, LBH) he suffered. When other people were under his power, he inflicted suffering. He encouraged other people to do the same. Again, the whole thing is a scam! He is putting all of his energy into things that aren't helping him, things that ultimately bring him down.

Real Men Don’t Cry – the Dangers of Emotional Repression

SJ has many, very justifiable reasons in life to be upset and angry. The things he went through are both terrible and extremely unfair. Being angry at everything is not a healthy outlet for these feelings, but he hasn’t exactly been taught an alternative either. On the streets, tears would have gotten him absolutely nothing. Anger at least gave him energy to fight back.

And this destroys him. He is angry at the fact he had no one in his life who loved him, his talents were wasted because of QJL/WYZ, nobody takes his abilities seriously… and with no healthy way of expressing this, he goes onto bully LBH. LBH then returns to destroy him, literally. More subtly, he is unable to express his fear and anxiety in healthy ways, so acts standoff-ish and aggressive to his those around him. As his relationship with them deteriorates, his fear and anxiety increases. Feedback loops.

SJ puts on a mask of anger and stoicism to the point that everyone around him (including himself) is convinced that he is unrepentant and evil. Suppresses and suppresses until it breaks him, until he has nothing – not his comfort, nor status, nor the one that he truly cared for:

He had single-handedly facilitated Luo Binghe’s today, and now who had single-handedly created this outcome for him? Yue Qingyuan was never supposed to have an end like this. In order to come to a decades-late appointment, to fulfill a completely useless promise. A broken sword and a dead man. It shouldn’t be like this.

A Note on Ambivalent Sexism

It’s funny because I think there’s a fandom vibe that SJ was the secret feminist of SVSSS. Don’t get me wrong, I love this in fanfics. Badass feminist SJ all the way. But my honest opinion is that I don’t think that was the case.

More explicitly, I don’t think SJ took women seriously. NYY, for example. Certainly, SJ valued NYY. But the expression of this care involved doting on her, hiding his treatment of LBH from her, and not particularly pushing her to grow. And PIDW!NYY wasn’t implied to be the most mature of the lot. Okay, while we don’t know a lot about PIDW!NYY (narrator unreliable), it’s probably safe to say some distance from SJ helped her a lot.

Another point – the Qiu massacre. SJ killed the men, but not the women. And while this says more about his distaste for men, it also indicates (possibly - I will float this idea but I won't die on this hill) that he straight up doesn’t see any woman as an enemy, or capable of being a threat. Which is possibly a natural conclusion he’s drawn from his experiences (QHT was not very perceptive, or very threatening) but also inaccurate as a worldview.

And his attitude towards the women he sees as saviours? Has the same vibe as ‘it’s so embarrassing to be protected by a girl’.

Okay, so being doted on and not being killed are positives compared to being abused or murdered, but this kind of attitude is the opposite side of the same coin to ‘women are incompetent and inferior’. And when it comes to raising kids, not allowing them to grow can be extremely harmful as well. See e.g. Ambivalent sexism.

Although I do want to mention that I do not think SJ was like… actively misogynistic. I think he genuinely liked women more than men. The point is you can be sexist without realising it.

Conclusions

To conclude, SJ had ideas of success and self-worth associated with toxic masculinity which were instrumental in his downfall.

Masculinity doesn’t have to be toxic. While the Cang Qiong family aren’t exactly the healthiest bunch, YQY’s calm and patient leadership, LQG’s steadfast loyalty, LBH’s ability to cry like a maiden and still be the strongest… these are all traditionally masculine traits that can be very positive. These are also people who can have feminine traits and explore their gender identity without being prissy or weak.

It's the great tragedy of SJ that he had many positive characteristics. He was talented, intelligent, articulate, perceptive, loyal, and caring… under the right circumstances, he could have grown into a great person.

And maybe he still had that chance, right until the end.

#svsss #shen jiu #original shen qingqiu #svsss meta #having said i would disappear i have things to dislodge from my drafts

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candlewaxandp0lar0ids · 2 years

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jealousy, jealousy || I.N. x Reader

Summary: Watching the guy you have a huge crush on be a pretend couple with one of the prettiest girls you know for a photoshoot isn't the perfect way of spending your morning, that's for sure.

Who knows though, things might start looking up sooner than you'd expect.

Word count: 3.9k

Genres: college AU, fluff with a little angst, idiots to lovers (but only one of them is an idiot and it's not IN)

Warnings & Tags: reader has anxiety, reader is insecure, someone is verbally unpleasant towards the reader, kissing, Tzuyu from Twice is in this

series masterlist

A/N: So this is part one of my lil project for Stray Kids' anniversary! I've got three one-shots written so far, so I'm confident I'll be able to post the maknae line in the next few days, and then take a couple of days to finish the hyung line or post them as I write them, I'll see. I hope you'll like it!

For this one-shot, please do suspend your disbelief for the way the school work is described in this lol, think of it as an artistic rendition or as something out of one of those shojos that go wayyyy overboard.

The shoot is supposed to start at 10, which means you’re there at 8, and the second you walk through the door you’re already plagued with thoughts that you should have shown up half an hour ago. Even as you’re the only one from your team there, you feel the familiar lump forming in your throat. Your mind goes over everything that needs to be done, everything that can go wrong, everything that is likely to go wrong, and everything you’ll end up taking the blame for.

You force yourself to take a deep breath. You focus on the end of the shoot — supposed to be at noon, but likely to actually be at 2, and it should be around 3 by the time you finish cleaning up —, on how you’ll be able to get back to the quiet of your home afterwards, and on how the atmosphere here isn’t too bad, this early in the morning. You’re not the only one here, you’ve already met the tired eyes of a few of the other students who you suspect didn’t go home last night, but there is something light in the air. You saw the sun rising on the way over and the light is still gently pouring in through the windows.

What a shame this won’t last.

When the others start rolling in, you’ve set up your little corner, just the way you like it. Your lights, your mirrors, your brushes and products, right where they should be so that they’ll fall right under your fingers when you need them. It helps you breathe a little better, but the lump doesn’t go away. It’s alright; you’re used to it by now.

Nari’s the first one to walk in, which isn’t surprising considering she’s the one directing the shoot, and it’s her clothes that the ‘models’ are going to be wearing. That is to say, the students she’s recruited to model for her, just like she recruited you into doing the make-up for her. The two of you aren’t close, not even friends, but you’re good at your job and a bit of a pushover, which makes you the ideal target for that kind of things.

She waves at you with a tense smile, but you know it’s not meant for you, she’s just stressed out. She always is. Unlike you, though, she has a tendency of taking it out on others, and that explains at least half of the tension in your shoulders today.

You need to learn how to say no to people.

Tzuyu, from the dance program, enters next, looking unreal as always. You’ve worked with her a few times before, too. She’s a sweetheart and you know she’ll make your job easier.

The same can’t be said about the next person to make his way through the door, whose apparition you’ve been waiting for since you got here, embarrassingly glancing at the door every few minutes.

Yang Jeongin walks in like he owns the place.

To be fair, he kind of does. Also enrolled in the fashion course, he’s pretty much the go-to when it comes to getting male models. Hwang Hyunjin, from the dance programme, is the second one, mostly because he’s harder to get a hold of — and because, you’ve heard, his girlfriend is pretty scary.

Your breath hitches in your throat as he walks over to your spot. His coat is thrown casually over his shoulder, his walk confident, and stylish glasses that you know he doesn't need rest on the tip of his nose. He died his hair back to black recently, but you can see it’s still damaged from the light pink that was his previous color.

“We meet again,” Tzuyu chimes from her seat, grinning from ear to ear, and Jeongin smiles in response, his expression changing entirely the second he does.

“It’s great to see you, Jeongin,” Nari purrs as she approaches, before she sets her eyes on you. “Are you done with Tzuyu? We really need to get started here.”

You know you shouldn’t let her speak to you like that, you have no reason to, but all you can think about in the moment is to pacify her to ensure that she’ll leave you alone.

“I still need a few minutes with her,” you say, and Nari huffs in annoyance, before her attention is captured by a guy setting up the lights and she power walks over to him.

“Do you want me to tell her something?”

You shoot a surprised look at Jeongin, who’s staring at you with a frown on your face, and you immediately look away. You hope it looks like you’re just focusing back on Tzuyu, and not like your heart jumped up to your throat when you met his eyes.

“It’s fine,” you say, “I know how she gets on shoots. “Just sit down and I’ll be with you in a second.”

He nods slowly, eyes still on you as you busy yourself around Tzuyu, but the tension remains in his jaw, which you don’t miss. It gives you a pang in the chest — shit, you don’t like when people are displeased with you.

It also makes his jaw look really good.

Tzuyu leaves to go appease Nari as soon as you’re done with her, and you’re relieved when she’s dragged away to go put on her clothes.

That doesn’t last, though, because next thing you know you’re a few inches away from Jeongin’s perfect face, and he’s staring straight at you.

You swallow. Then you grab one of your brushes, and you get to work.

“No late night snacks this time?” you ask, half-teasing because the last time you’d worked with him, his face had been somewhat puffy from it.

A smile breaks on his face, and immediately there are flowers blooming in your chest. He can look so serious and unapproachable one second, but as soon as his lips curl and his eyes crease, he’s a whole other person.

“I didn’t want to make your work harder,” he replies. You feel yourself freezing, and then you turn away to grab another product, praying that you didn’t just stare dumbly at him for too long.

“You got started on your take on the modernized hanbok already?”

He hums in reply.

“I have one sketch. You?”

“I’m counting on the rush of adrenaline I’ll get the week before to finish it,” you admit.

You’re too focused to see the curiosity in his eyes when you say that. You do, however, notice him tilting his head, and you immediately correct him, fingers sliding along his jaw to pull him back in his correct place. As you do, you feel him swallowing, and you’re quick to remove your hand.

If you’d been looking, you’d have noticed his ears turning red.

“You were the first one here, though,” he says after a few seconds of silence.

“Oh, yeah, that’s because I don’t want to let people down. I’m the only one who’ll get in trouble if I procrastinate too long.”

And even then, you won’t, you’ll just spend a horrible week telling yourself you’ll never do that again.

You inevitably will.

God, you’re so tired of living with yourself, sometimes.

“You should tell me if you need a last second model,” Jeongin mumbles. He’s careful not to move his lips, but you’ve perfected the art to understand that language over the years. The comment makes you laugh.

“You're always completely booked for shoots on the last week,” you grin. You yourself still give a few hours of your time here and there, though you don’t stick around very long. You know that Nari plans her shoots ahead partly for that reason. It’s kind of flattering, if you think about it.

Someone with her drive and her talent gets to have a shitty personality, you suppose.

“I’ll get Hyunjin to replace me.”

There goes your heart again. It’s not fair. It’s not fair that the only time you spend with him goes like that, because you’re too cowardly to approach him during class, and it’s not fair that invariably—

“Are you done soon?” Nari shouts from behind the screen she’s put up to make a corner into a changing room.

“Just a few minutes more!” you reply before focusing back on Jeongin. “I’ll think about it,” you tell him, though you know yourself well enough to be able to tell that you’re extremely unlikely to go through with it. Just the drafting of the text would take you hours, and actually sending it? The idea is laughable.

You really wish you were normal with that stuff.

“Don’t move, I’m almost done,” you say, and he goes still, and your heart’s hammering in your chest, but at least he’s no longer saying things you’re at risk of misconstruing.

As he closes his eyes to let you put on the finishing touches, though, you know you’re in for a long day.

“Jeongin, can you put your hand a little lower? Tzuyu, smile with your eyes please? Now tilt your head more to the right? More? Jeongin, look at the camera but like, from the side, from— Okay, two seconds for touch ups, and then we’ll need to get things done a little faster everyone, alright?”

Nari’s forcing herself to smile so much that you think she might cramp. You rush past her to get to Tzuyu and Jeongin, carefully touching up their make up where you need and adjusting a little for the light. You also pat Jeongin’s forehead to catch beads of sweat that formed under the artificial light, and he gives you a grateful nod as you do your best not to think about things you shouldn’t be thinking about.

“We’ll be done soon,” Tzuyu says cheerfully, but even she seems to be forcing her smile at this point. You don’t blame her for it. You do, however, think she’s not being very realistic about how much work they have left.

It’s 11.30 and they’re nowhere near done. The start of the shoot ran late because of Nari’s adjustments to the clothing. After that, there was a heated conversation between her and the photograph over the subject of filters, leading to the guy throwing his hands in the air and quitting on the spot, meaning she’s the only one there. You can tell she’s fuming, and though you have sympathy for that, you’re also pretty terrified of becoming the subject of her ire.

“You’re not messing him up, right?” she asks, glaring at you, and you jump away from Jeongin.

“Sorry,” you say automatically, even though you haven’t done anything wrong. “I’m all done.”

She looks at him critically, trying to find flaws in your work.

“He has a spot on the chin,” she says finally, “seriously, if you don’t get your shit together we’ll never—”

“You don’t speak to her like that,” Jeongin interrupts her, and his voice sounds sharp and cutting.

The air freezes in the room. You risk a glance in his direction. He’s staring straight at Nari, lips curved ever so slightly downwards in distaste.

He also does have a little spot on the chin.

Shit.

Nari’s staring at him, too. She’s paled, and her lower lip is shaking.

“Sorry,” she finally says, voice trembling. “Sorry, I’m j-just— We don’t have that long and— Sorry.”

She looks small and vulnerable, and your heart melts on the spot. You can’t help it.

“It’s okay,” you say, “just give me a second to fix it.”

Jeongin exhales slowly next to you, but you suspect it’s in annoyance, not in relief. Still, he leans towards you to give you better access to his face.

“You don’t have to placate her,” he mumbles, lips barely moving.

“I know,” you reply. “It’s just easier that way.”

He frowns, but doesn’t add anything. For a second, you almost tell him that you wish you could stand up for yourself, that the truth is your ‘freeze’ response strikes you every single time and you can’t figure out what to say, that if you could, you’d—

“All good?” Nari asks.

You give her a nod and, this time, she doesn’t say anything about Jeongin — or about Tzuyu, for that matter. So you walk back to your spot, and you watch as the shoot continues.

You don’t really like watching these. That’s generally true. You have friends who do, who think that ‘this is where the magic happens’, but you know all the magician’s tricks, and that leaves no actual magic for you. Still, you’re needed here. You suppose you could have quit on the spot after Nari’s outburst, but it’s— you can’t actually do that. So you’ll stick it out until the end, even if you’re not enjoying yourself.

And that is particularly true as Nari directs Jeongin to pull Tzuyu closer to him. As he does, neither of them questioning it because they’re used to it by now, you find yourself sucking in a discreet breath between your teeth. Jeongin’s hand seems large over Tzuyu’s shoulder, long, pale fingers gently brushing against the skin and for a second, you think about the electric feeling that would run through you if he ever—

Just thinking about it makes heat shoot through your entire body, and you swallow. At least no one’s looking at you.

Another direction from Nari, and Tzuyu puts her hand over Jeongin’s chest, shooting a bold grin at the camera.

You bite the inside of your cheek.

Direction. They step away from each other, but Jeongin reaches out for her, and she delicately places her fingers into his open end, both of them longingly staring at their hands.

Your fingers dig into your arms.

Direction. Keeping Tzuyu’s hand in his, Jeongin brings it to his lips and they gaze into each other’s eyes. They look perfect together. They’re both stunning, and you know there’ve been whispers about them on campus already, in no small part because they’re often reunited for these shoots.

But God does it burn in your chest to look at them right now.

“We’re done!” Nari shouts at 1.50 pm. Behind her, the group that’s supposed to get the room at 2 is huffing and puffing, but you don’t think a fucking panzer could have gotten her to clear the space until she was happy with her work.

You should be relieved. You’re not. You won’t be until you’ve locked the door to your room behind you.

“Wanna get a drink to celebrate?” Tzuyu asks Jeongin. Her smile’s back to its usual brightness, now that the tension’s mostly gone.

You start picking up your stuff, but, embarrassingly, you’re very much focused on hearing his answer to that. You wish you wouldn’t be doing that, because that’s not any of your business, yet you can’t seem to help yourself right now.

You probably would have caught it if Nari didn’t stop by your side just then.

“Hey,” she says, “I am really sorry about earlier. I shouldn’t have said that.”

The thing is, you’re pretty sure she meant it then, but now there’s a lightness to her voice that you find… annoying. It seems to you that she’s already moved on and expects you to do the same. Normally you would, but after having spent the last two hours watching the guy you have this stupid, hopeless crush on all over one of the prettiest girls you’ve ever seen, something in you just— snaps.

“I think you’ll have to find someone else next time,” you tell her with a polite smile. Her face falls, and you immediately feel guilty. You shouldn’t. Probably. Should you? Are you being mean? Are you doing something wrong? Does that make you a bad person?

“I— Okay,” she says, and this time her voice’s much softer. She looks down at her feet. “I get it. I know I’m not easy to— Yeah. I’m sorry.”

You thought standing up to her would feel good, that you’d feel Schadenfreude over this moment. This is the furthest thing from that. Actually, you only manage to bite back your own ‘I’m sorry’ at the last second.

“I just— this environment stresses me out,” you still say, speaking too fast. “It’s not really good or fun for me and—”

“Sure. Don’t worry about it.” A deep breath, and then Nari nods at you politely. “Well, I’ll get to cleaning up my stuff.”

And just as you’re replying “Same,” she’s spun around on her heels and started putting the clothes away.

You don’t know where that leaves the two of you, but that reaction makes the moment just a little easier on you.

You wonder, vaguely, if she did that on purpose. You don't linger on the thought though, and you go back to your own program, walking towards your little make-up station to start putting stuff away, getting everything back to its place in your bags. It’s something you slow at, just like you’re slow at setting them up, but it also helps you getting back to your normal self. With every object coming back to where they belong, you can breathe a little easier.

You still notice almost immediately the presence behind you, and you’re not particularly surprised to find Jeongin there. You give him a smile, and gesture at the chair.

“If you give me a second, I can get some of that off your face,” you say as you gesture to him. Camera make-up would look quite strange outside, and he’s been to enough of these things to know that at least as well as you do.

“I heard you told Nari off.”

“Oh. Yeah. I guess you, uh, were right.”

That’s not all that happened there, but that will have to do.

When you glance at him, though, he doesn’t look happy about it, a frown barring his expression, and your fragile confidence immediately falters.

“Do you think that was a bad idea…?”

His eyes widen and he's quick to shake his head.

“No, not at all, you did good!” You can’t help but smile at the words. He’s younger than you, but somehow keeps behaving like he’s not. “I just like working with you.” He gives you a sheepish smile, lips pressed together.

“Sit down,” you say like your heart didn't skip a beat, “the least I can do is not let you go out like that.”

So he does, and even though you still have stuff out that you should be taking care of, you lean close to him and get to work once more.

There’ll be other shoots, of course, Nari isn’t the only one who requires your services. In fact, you’re surprised that he’d have thought of that at all. You know that it didn’t cross your mind, probably because you think these moments mostly as fueling your delusions.

The idea that Jeongin could actually enjoy spending time with you hadn’t even occurred to you.

Huh. That might say a thing or two about your self-confidence.

“So, you’re going out with Tzuyu after this?” you ask before your thoughts start running wild.

His eyes open.

“We’re going to get drinks, yeah,” he says, a cautious edge to his voice. “You should come with us, actually.”

“Oh,” you laugh, “I don’t know if she’d be very happy if I did that. Wouldn’t want to third wheel, you know.”

You hope you do a good job of keeping any bitterness out of your voice. You certainly try your best to appear nonchalant, like you’re merely doing small talk while you’re removing his make-up, even if you avoid meeting his eyes, knowing that it would

That might be why it takes you by surprise when Jeongin’s fingers wrap around your wrist, interrupting you. When you look at him, you find him staring at you with a surprisingly serious expression.

“You wouldn’t third wheel,” he says, which you certainly don’t think warrants all of that.

“It’s fine,” you reply, attempting to joke about it even as the breath is knocked out of your lungs, because you will not be caught dead misreading the situation for something it’s not, “if anything getting a date with Tzuyu is—”

Then, several things happen at once. The hand around your wrist pulls you forward and you stumble, just as his other hand shoots up to cup your face.

And then he’s kissing you.

His mouth is warm, his lips soft, his fingers carding through your hair, and suddenly you’ve lost your balance and you’re half sitting in his lap and any attempt at forming a coherent thought is swallowed by what is happening.

A very, very distant part of your brain is thankful for Nari’s screen, which has been moved to the make-up station to make place for the group that comes after you, but that is only a fleeting thought, because still, Jeongin’s kissing you. His hands are gentle, holding you like you’re a porcelain doll, but his lips are fierce, and you feel, briefly, his teeth grazing against your lower lip. His right hand travels from your wrist to your waist, and you’re pulled even closer to him, and now you’re pressed against his chest and all you can think about is how you want more of this.

When he moves away from you, you’re panting, breath short, and you can only stare at him with wide eyes.

“You wouldn’t be the one third-wheeling,” he says.

“What,” you say in response, ever the eloquent one.

He sighs, runs a hand through his hair while the other one remains on your hips, not quite squeezing, but not letting go of you either.

“I— thought I’d made it pretty obvious I was interested in you,” he mumbles.

Oh. Uh, yeah, about that…

“I, uh, I assumed it was just wishful thinking,” you admit under your breath. “I mean, we don’t really, uh, talk outside of these shoots.”

He sighs and puts his forehead against yours. Your noses brush, and you’re acutely aware of the fact that you would just have to move a little to kiss him again.

“I— always looked forward to seeing you,” he admits quietly, almost shyly, something you’d never thought you would see, “but you always looked like you wanted to run away when I came up to you in class, so I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“You don’t make me uncomfortable, just— just shy, I think.”

It makes him grin, and you realize that seeing that specific look on his face makes you want to kiss him even more. If you were bolder, you would, especially right now, but you don’t think you can dare to just yet.

It’s fine, though, because he’s the one who kisses you, briefly, tenderly, and then he looks at you like you’re one of the world’s seven wonders.

“Want to go make Tzuyu feel like a third wheel?” he asks, rising an eyebrow.

You laugh, and you can’t know it, but his chest swells with pride when you do.

“And then I can take you on a proper date,” he offers. “If you’d like.”

‘If you’d like,’ he says, and you suspect that he knows exactly how much you’d like that, but you humor him because how could you not.

“I’d love that.”

this was my first time writing for IN and this made me realize that he's probably the member whose personality I'm least sure how to write, so I hope you enjoyed it still and I'll see you tomorrow for Seungmin's part! Any feedback, comment, reblogs or asks are extremely welcome, I may not be able to get to it right away because I'm working on the rest but I they're much appreciated ❤️

#stray kids #i.n.#yang jeongin #in x reader #jeongin x reader #yang jeongin x reader #stray kids imagine #stray kids x reader #jeongin fanfic #candywrites

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weredoingeverythingwrong · 3 months

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Project 2025 is Terrifyingly Real

Project 2025 is Real!

Fear.

I have always had an undying love for the dystopian fiction novels that have long littered the YA genre and as I've gotten older, this has not changed. Books like Hunger Games, Divergent, The Uglies, Birthmarked, etc ruled the imagination of my adolescence as I pictured a world of such obvious dysfunction. The world in these books were always resolved by disruptive heroes working against the status quo. I stayed in suspense as I read the hero of my stories challenge their world order, fear made me grip my books as I read of the capture of my hero, and an uneasy relief as I finished the final chapter of the destruction of another morally bankrupt society so a new one could be built. This is what I lived for.

What I did not sign up for... is feeling the same fear and suspense and NONE of the relief, in my own reality. I have questioned the morals of society on several occasions, but never have I ever felt such an inescapable fear of the world as I do now. I know I am not the only one still carrying the anxiety that gripped the world in 2020 that never really went away, even when the masks and the social distance masks began to disappear.

**The lockdown changed the world. Here in the U.S, the change was obvious. Covid put the world on pause for really the first time in a long time, in a way society really hadn't endured in a long time, if ever. When the distractions of work, your social life, and the hustle and bustle of your existence are halted, you have no choice but to take an overview in a way it isn't practical to do when life is lifing. Many were fighting for their lives or watching family fight for their lives. What do I mean? I mean there were no distractions. There was nothing to do, but take stock of the life we live. It's no surprise that in the void of the well-placed distractions and propaganda, social justice issues and protests reached the level they did. This is also why I believe there was a need to return the American people back to their lives because they were paying too much attention. Black lives matter, the #metoo movement, and the rise of cancel culture began to become popular and movements that focused on action-based policies took ahold of Americans (I'll discuss this more thoroughly in another post.)

Four years later, we have learned so much. The misinformation age has reached fever pitch and the country has never been more divided. The division across race, gender, and class has never been stronger and internal biases reconfirmed by persuasive algorithms have brought us here. Here is the genocide of the Palestinian people, the attempted re-colonization of Ayiti, and the rise of the fascist regime of the United States. I am scared. Never has this life felt to unreal, and so much like the fictional worlds of my favorite books, but there is no chapter close or hero to await. It's just us.

Project 2025 is real. The rise of the white supremacist, christian regime and the crack down on democracy. If you have been paying attention, the agenda has been made clear.

The 1% will reap the rewards of their greed and the work force must oblige. There can be no dissent. Unions and protests are not acceptable and will be crushed with force. You will not be protected. You have no right to your body, your privacy, or your image. Your democratically-elected leader has no laws or consequences for their actions (If you haven't check out Sotomayer's dissent letter, here.)

We have long outgrown the needs of 17th century politics and the constitution has been exploited to fit the needs of the 21st century oligarchs.

The children of the future are being made illiterate, pushed away from formal education, and they are being taught even less. Laws are being repealed and allowing children more access to becoming part of the labor force. These are the future voters and citizens of this country will not be educated enough to organize, learn, or properly create community against a new status quo.

Come November even if we vote blue, we will just be pausing an inevitable coup of democracy.

This post may be a gasp of despair, but I still have hope for the people around me. I still believe we can prevail. I believe we can create a world that generations will learn about and can thrive.

We are doing everything wrong.

We can still make it right.

** Covid-19 is still very much a thing that was mishandled and was the very real plight of many. I have edited the post to reflect lock down instead of covid-19, for clarity and to not reduce covid-19 to a simple pause in life, when it was very real fatal pandemic for many.

#politics #afropessimism #marxism #us politics #biden #trump #democrats #republicans #covid 19 #dystopia

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crookedkryptonitebeliever · 2 years

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yandere best friend pt3

tw; infantalization, yelling, violence, self harm, feels bad because comparison is the thief of joy, life being unfair

ageless blogs n minors DNI blease tq <3

yea im on a roll haha i just finished part 2 and now i moved onto part 3, as u can see i was projecting here with the leg situation

anyways its pretty short and as usual, no proofreading

enjoay

You don't know how he's doing right now. Time passes so fast that its been four years since that haunting call from your friend. You finished your masters degree and now you're deeper in debt than ever. You're taking on three jobs unrelated to your qualifications and running on no sleep, just like how your friend did when he was working towards his biggest goal.

Well, maybe you lied. You knew how he's doing, because his stupid restaurant name is ubiquitous.

It's strange, unfair and confusing how he managed to turn his restaurant into a multimillion corporation this fast. It's now a famous brand with multiple branches across the globe, it has expanded into selling frozen products in supermarkets everywhere. It's still growing too, more and more people are investing in his empire, making him richer and richer and making you green with fucking envy.

People who invest in stocks bring up his brand pretty often, saying that it's worth to invest a couple thousand dollars in it because its in some sort of top 500 index. You weren't really interested in that because you don't even have a couple thousand dollars to spare in the first place.

Your friend seem to mostly stay out of the limelight, making him more of a faceless founder. It's rare to find interviews with him, even if you did, he would always give vague, generic answers to the questions. He would focus more on promoting his products than anything else, he's neither humble or arrogant... but he's just like a robot made only to advertise whatever it's selling and make as much sales as it can.

The masses would very much prefer to pay attention to the celebrity ambassadors the marketing department hired.

Personal information about your friend was scarce, so far you knew that he went ahead and got himself a diploma in culinary arts and another diploma in Food Science and Technology in the last four years. No doubt, to improve the credibility of his company and in hopes of having more customers flock in.

You felt... bad. Took the conventional, the more socially accepted route of studying to one of the highest degrees, but your friend who started off with only a high school diploma and an iron will was so much more successful than you in life.

Perhaps it's simply the human condition to compare ourselves to wildly different lives. Every time you check the news about your friend, it's always something about his company achieving another award for delicious tasting food, well known events involving major public figures or the highly anticipated release of a new product.

You don't come across pictures with your friend in it, but when you do, it's always a picture of him talking to an important figure in a lavish setting, or having the fanciest dinner you have ever seen with people in formal clothes. He looked amazing in every one of it, he was so put together that it looks unreal. Well, seeing that he can afford the best treatments the world has to offer, it doesn't come off as a huge surprise.

And that is soul crushing, you wish to be him. And you forgot the hardships he went through. And you became bitter. And resentful of him. And resentful towards yourself. And-

Oh, your break is up. Time to continue your self loathing inner monologue while dealing with snooty customers. All the while, forgetting that your friend also has to deal with mood and energy vampires everyday.

As if things couldn't get anymore worse, you fucked up your legs. Well, not you. But some spoiled brat with a speedy sports car slammed onto you while you were lawfully using the zebra crossing. Their daddy was loaded and had the right connections, so the person who took your legs out walked away scot-free. You were left to clean up the mess yourself.

Luckily, it's not the worst thing your legs can take. You'll still be able to walk, but it will take ages to heal and might as well amputate them to pay for the damn bill. Throw in a kidney or two and you might just pay half of it off. So, you'll be wheelchair ridden until further notice.

You moved back into your parents' home, the same country where you and your friend first met. As much as you hate depending on others, you need your parents help. You are financially ruined and you can't exactly find a job that's kind to people with your disability. Or to people with any disability, in fact.

Word spreads so fucking fast. Your friend made a beeline to your parents house as soon as one of his private eyes reported that you're back home.

He was in a meeting with the board of directors managing one of his numerous subsidiary companies. It baffled everyone in the room when your friend showed interest in something other than profits and company growth. It was thought that he has no soul, no loved ones and no sentience. He was just a massive piece of code programmed to make as much money as possible at all cost.

Seeing that he experienced such a strong emotion upon hearing your arrival, that he had to adjourn a meeting, was so jarring.

It made him seem... human.

You were fast asleep. Exhausted from what the world has pelted at you and weak from all the pain. Your parents invited your friend in as he was extremely excited and happy that you're back, oblivious to the fact that you're in this state. He didn't bother listening to the full report his private eye was about to give him.

As soon as he entered your room, his smile fell upon seeing your crippled state. You were unconscious, if you weren't, you would probably die from mortification... your successful childhood best friend, seeing very unsuccessful you. An old laptop sits uncomfortably on your belly, yet another job rejection letter was shown on the screen.

Your friend was speechless. He could already hear the growing storm of regret, self hatred, anguish, anger, sadness brewing inside him, it was muffled, but its getting increasingly clearer and louder.

His trembling hands gently stroked your casts as tears threaten to fall from his eyes.

What happened? He whispered, it was loud enough for your parents to hear. Hence, they began explaining.

The name of the person who hit you with their car was all he needed to know. He is going to take care of it. Everything else bounced off his head as his eyes slowly travelled to your hands, he took one of them into his larger ones. He massaged them with utmost love and longing.

It's rough. It's calloused. It's scarred. It's everything that he never ever want your hands to be.

You groggily woke up, using your free hand to rub your eyes. You paused when you saw your friend by your bedside, silently staring at your hand in his. Tears rolling down his cheek and dripping onto the collar of his very expensive jacket.

He failed. He may have tried his best to stop it from happening, but he ultimately failed. You went through more or less, what he went through.

He shouldn't have left you alone, he shouldn't have trusted that you won't suffer like he did. He should have intervened, he should have bought that plane ticket instead, He shouldn't have respected your boundaries that day, he should have come to you regardless.

You have proven that you are incapable to take care of yourself. No more mistakes, no more neglect, you need him now more than ever. He is going to make things right and you will have no say in anything anymore. You will depend on him and he will make sure of it.

As soon as his eyes met yours, he lost it. He broke down sobbing in his hands. The weight of his failure is crushing him to pieces, how could he be so fucking stupid? Obviously, you needed him despite receiving that scathing text message four years ago. You were so young, so naïve, so inexperienced and oblivious to the cruel, cruel world around you. Of course, you thought you would do okay. You haven't seen the world at its' worst like he did! He should have known better... and he knew better! He just...

He just wanted you to be happy. And, he thought you would be happier if he left you alone for a while. In the meantime, he would continue building that perfect life for you to come home to, filled with nothing but comfort and luxuries. But look at you now, you were robbed of your innocence, and, your friend blamed himself for it.

You're suffering and he was the cause of it. only if he didn't neglect you in the first place...

No...

Only if you didn't fucking reject him over and over again. Things would have turned out differently. You also had a part in this!

You covered your face out of embarrassment, you did not want him to see you at this stage of life. You didn't want anyone seeing you like this.

Please leave me alone. You said.

You always knew your friend to be the softest, sweetest person around you. He never got physically violent to anyone (at least, to your knowledge).

Imagine the shock when he yanked your hand away from your face and delivered a devastating slap to your face. You were stunned as the ringing of your ears and the pain of the blow overwhelm your senses. Within moments, a red print was formed on your cheek.

Your parents rushed in to put a barrier between you and him, but he ignored them and began yelling and pointing at you hysterically.

I trusted you! I trusted you! How dare you do this to yourself!? I worked so fucking hard-- I sacrificed everything for you, and you can't even keep yourself healthy! Oh, he was angry. He was shouting and screaming, most of the time it just made you scared and confused. You can't understand what he was getting at because he was jumbling over his words.

Your hands, they aren't supposed to look like mine and look what you have done to them! His voice went hoarse from all the exertion.

You weren't supposed to work for anything in life, I was supposed to provide for you! Why can't you just fucking depend on me!? Why can't you just accept me!?

You can only watch on as he threw a massive tantrum, your father tried his best to pull him away from the room, but to no avail.

You are going to depend on me, I am going to provide for you and that's final! I don't care what you think, you can't be trusted to do anything alone! With that final piece, he wrenched himself off your father's grip and stormed out of your childhood bedroom, slamming the door behind him so hard, that some wall décor fell to the ground with a loud crash.

He is going to replace them later. Now, he needs to make a few phone calls.

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drbased · 5 months

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i've been reading your symbolic states tag and i'm both fascinated and relieved. i too am trying to live more in the real world and less in my head. a spark was struck when i read that i should be looking forward to the work of living, rather than dreaming of the symbolic sense of achievement i want.

do you have any tips/advice on getting out of that state? i find myself slipping back to it after a few days/weeks. how did you get out of it permanently?

i also want to hear your thoughts on social media's impact on us with regards to the symbolic state. social media is a literal continuous symbolic state that we are now all expected to participate in. how might we do it without succumbing to living/thinking symbolically?

actually, i would go so far as to state that social media has contributed directly to the current boom and celebration of unreal/symbolic ideals.

thanks for sharing your thoughts on this.

Thank you so much for this message 💖

This is, in short, my process:

learn to recognise what makes you feel uncomfortable. mentally trace back to recognise what has made you feel sad, angry etc. The more specific and granular and embarrassing you can recognise as the source of your negative emotional response, the more you're learning about your actual self and not some idealised version of you.

from that, start getting to know yourself. once again, the more granular and specific you can get, the better. instead of thinking 'I am smart', recognise 'I have good analytical skills that I developed during childhood because of x experience' etc. this will help you to stop categorising yourself as a certain type of person and instead will help you to have a healthier relationship with the traits that make up who you are.

before doing an activity, is your mental picture of yourself in the first or third person? because if it's the latter, try imagining yourself in the first person. if this feels humiliating and embarrassing, and the activity seems boring, you've learned something about what you actually like doing. get used to recognising that picturing yourself in the third person is a warning sign. the more you recognise the warning signs, the more you learn about yourself, and the more you can act authentically.

with a better picture of who you are, you're better at recognising what you actually want in the moment. I specify in the moment, because it's very easy to categorise yourself - I spent over a decade doing things because 'drbased would like this activity', as if I'm forced to behave according to someone's OC character sheet of myself. For example, when doing art projects, I feel as if I'm supposed to do a specific design because 'that's the kind of design drbased likes' - which actually makes the activity the opposite of creativity because I leave myself no room for the spontaneity of the human spirit; everything I do has to fit into a category. Recognising that I can just exist in the moment and not as part of some wider narrative has helped me immensely

learn to trust yourself - or, at least, humour yourself until you trust yourself. learning to humour myself is where this all started. I took myself and my point of view seriously, and as such was finally able to stop being embarrassed at being a human being. I approach everything from my own point of view now, and it's wild that I finally understand that that's what being human, being alive, existing is all about.

and here's the big one - or, rather, one continuous and contiguous chain of small ones - I have to actually do what I want, moment to moment. Since I lost the ability to recognise myself as a human being existing in the chain of cause-and-effect, I have to re-establish my relationship with said cause-and-effect. I have to re-attach some neurons, and the best way to do that is with consistent behaviour. I feel something I want to do, I have to do it instantly. The more of a gap I leave, the harder I make it in the long run. I still feel the tug of obligation stopping me from doing what I want to do instantaneously, so this is a long, perhaps a life-long journey for me. but I want that, no matter how exhausting it can get, because every moment I get to show myself love and prove just how serious I am about mending my relationship with myself. One very existentially terrifying thing I've learned is that the medium is the message - the very fact that you're making these gestures to yourself is something that your brain registers. And the simple fact, is, reality feels a lot better when you're directly engaging with it. It's tough, but it's incredibly rewarding and makes life better - remember, you only ever exist in the moment - so thinking of yourself as anything other than in the moment is a form of death of the self. Reinforcing yourself as part of the chain of causality is telling yourself you're alive and want to live.

Make no mistake: I am not completely out of it. I seriously damaged my relationship with my own self-hood and I am sure that I will always be struggling with this for the rest of my life. But how I frame my response to life's struggles is entirely different now - I am making this decision to engage with what I once percieved as the humiliation of mundane life because I can now recognise that for better or for worse, I'm the one living it. I'm the one feeling the feelings and thinking the thoughts and doing the actions. I am the center of my entire perception of the universe, this life is literally my own. I used to think of myself as having some obligation/responsibility to other people and the universe itself - but now I recognise that responsibility is, like, an actual real thing, instead of just getting marks on a test. If I do something bad, that actually hurts real people; and likewise, doing something nice is good because real people benefit. The 'responsibility' comes once again from the equally comfortable and terrifying realisation of my place in the chain of cause-and-effect. As part of that chain, I may have caused irreparable damage to my psyche, but I'm not part of a narrative where I must seek to 'fix myself' - I'm just a human being, and I want to live the best life I can because feeling good feels good, and that's what I want for myself because I care about myself. If I have to spend the rest of my life constantly asking 'what do I actually want right now?' then so fucking be it - because the alternative is a low-level hell of depression and PDA.

I will talk about social media and symbolic states in a reblog of this another time. But I hope this helps - I'm getting better at writing down the stages of what I did to help myself, and it's incredibly gratifying, and the responses I get are validating.

#anon #symbolic states #wisdom posting

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theladyofbloodshed · 2 years

Text

Chapter One

My little brain worm has wiggled in with another Lucien x Nesta idea despite my many other projects.

This fic is set a few months after canon ACOSF. Nesta has doubts about her mating bond and life in Velaris. She feels as if she's drowning but nobody notices - except Lucien. Lucien sees Nesta cutting out parts of herself to please the Night Court and is reminded of his mother. He offers Nesta a lifeline to be a neutral party to vent to and a travel companion.

The theme for this fic is Would That I by Hozier!

Tea poured from the spout of the porcelain teapot, filling the cup almost to the brim.

‘Sugar?’

Nesta’s eyes swept over the tray. ‘Lemon?’

‘I’m sure I can find one for you.’

Her eyes trailed the male as he stepped into the kitchen that wasn’t his to find lemon for her tea. It was a noisy evening. The wine had been broken out long ago as stories were traded over raucous laughter. Elain had been part of it until Lucien arrived late, during the third course, so she had slunk away into the safety of Azriel’s shadows rather than risk a conversation with him. The two wraiths were keeping an ear out of Nyx whilst he slept upstairs and Nesta had wanted to sneak upstairs out of the way before Lucien had occupied the chair beside her.

It had been months since the ordeal of the Blood Rite, months since Nyx was brought into this world through Nesta’s intervention, and months since the lavish mating ceremony that she had thought would fix everything. It hadn’t. With every day that passed, Nesta felt less and less like herself. She glanced over at Cassian who had one leg slung over the arm of a couch and his head was in Mor’s lap while she squeezed his cheeks together, both laughing. Everybody was laughing, even Azriel. And Nesta sat on the outskirts of a group she didn’t belong to, as always.

‘Found one,’ said Lucien, as he brandished a wedge of lemon at her.

The juice dribbled into her tea as he squeezed it, but his eyes were also on the group. A crease appeared between his brow but he did not pass a comment.

‘How was the Continent?’

‘Enjoyable. I was in Rask.’

‘I don’t know it, I’m afraid.’

Lucien seemed to come alive now that there was an opening in the conversation. ‘It’s obscenely wealthy – worse than here. Their army is vast and all have gilded armour. The actual country is beautiful too. It has deep mines filled with jewels. Palaces built into the clouds.’

‘And the people?’

‘Like any nation. Intelligence is valued in Rask. There is no king or queen, but instead an elected council of strategists and dreamers who strive for greatness. The people vote every decade and there are year-long campaigns for positions on the council.’

It sounded unreal to Nesta. A place where birth right or a marriage of opportunity was not the only way to climb high in society.

‘I wanted to go to the Continent,’ she shared. ‘Years ago, when I was dreaming of a life away from our cottage, before all of this.’

‘You still could go,’ said Lucien.

There were still uneasy relations between Prythian and the Continent due to the war that happened five centuries ago. They had poor opinions of mortals – and some nations had almost allied with Hybern again during the most recent war. Nesta knew it edged too close to Koschei as well for her to ever be allowed to go there.

‘I don’t think Cassian or Feyre would be happy for me to go there.’

A strange expression twisted Lucien’s features then he let out a sigh. He brought his cups to his lips, deep in thought.

Elain’s eyes flickered to the pair of them, worry rendering her silent as if Nesta was spilling all of her secrets to her unwanted mate.

‘Would you like a glass of wine like the others?’

Nesta shook her head quickly. ‘It’s better if I don’t drink.’

‘Who said that? You or somebody else?’

Nesta’s lips pursed. Many people. Mor. Amren. Cassian. Feyre. Rhys. They all had their opinion on her life.

‘It’s better if I don’t.’

‘Then how about a drop of honey in your tea?’

She let out a soft exhale. ‘Sugar is not good when I’m training. Lacks any real energy.’

Lucien’s fingers tightened around the spoon, poised to dollop a spoonful into his own cup to sweeten it. ‘You’re not training now. If you want it, say so.’ He blinked a few times then dropped his voice. ‘They don’t sound like your words, Nesta. If you want it, have it. It’s a bit of honey, for goodness’ sake.’

She gave a stiff nod. The tea did taste better with it, far sweeter as she preferred. It was the only sugar she was likely to get in the next few days besides. Weeks earlier, Cassian had steered her away from a decadent new bakery overlooking the Sidra where everything was fried or pumped with cream or rolled in sugar. She was still dreaming of it.

In silence, they sipped at the tea, letting snippets of the group’s conversation meet their ears. The high lord and lady were being their usual nauseating selves by managing to slip innuendos into every topic. Their hands pawed at each other regardless of the audience. Even after all the time that had passed, it still made Nesta uncomfortable to bear witness to it. She was becoming used to the highly charged comments that seemed to be a currency in Prythian, but others were not as sex-obsessed as her sister and her mate. There was a time and place for that impropriety – the living room with everybody looking on was not it.

This could not be her life forever. Before Lucien had sat beside her, it could not have been more apparent that Nesta still sat on the fringes of this group. She had sat alone with only a book for company while they clustered together near the open windows, chatting with an ease she didn’t possess after dinner. She had tried so hard to fit in – to be like them. Nesta attended every dinner but when they became a nightly ritual to eat, drink, chat, she began asking Cassian if they could have time as just the two of them. He wondered if she had argued with her sisters. The idea that Nesta wouldn’t want to spend every free evening with his family was unfathomable to him. She had only wanted his company sometimes, not all of them. Nesta stopped asking. And for her sisters, Nesta visited them whenever they requested. She cared for Nyx but he spent so much of his time with the wraiths so Feyre and Rhys could remain locked together as they ruled their court. Elain could only talk of gardening and Feyre could only gush about her baby or her mate.

If Nesta did not have Gwyn and Emerie, she would have been so lonely. It was their company that kept her standing. These last few weeks had felt like trying to hold together a crumbling building – but she felt as if she was the only one who saw the damage. Cassian didn’t seem to notice how muted she was. Nobody asked her about training. They didn’t ask about her friends. There was no expectation for Nesta to do anything now except be Cassian’s mate. And she hated herself for having no goals for the future. This could not be her life, night after night, sat on the edge of a group she didn’t belong to, trapped in Velaris. There had to be more to it.

Lucien settled his cup down on the small table in front of their couch. ‘I’m quite tired from my journey. It was nice to talk to you, Nesta. I’m sorry I haven’t talked to you a lot previously.’

‘I was a viper before my mating.’

She had meant it as a jest, but part of Lucien’s expression fractured into something like pain. He nodded then made to say his goodbyes to the others.

‘I hope you don’t mind, but we’ve set up a room for you in the House of Wind while you’re here,’ Rhys said, a hand tangling in Feyre’s hair. ‘Nyx is cutting a tooth and he’ll keep you awake otherwise.’

Lucien shrugged to show he didn’t mind, but he added, ‘It’s not my house. Cassian, Nesta, if you don’t mind?’

‘No problem, Vanserra. You’re welcome to join training in the morning. The females can show you what they’ve been learning.’

‘Not for me, but thank you for the offer, Cassian.’

Rhys stood to winnow him. Nesta leapt to her feet too. ‘Can you take me too? I’m quite tired.’

It wasn’t unusual for Nesta to leave early. Often, she feigned tiredness or a late-night meeting in the library with Gwyn. She’d rather sit alone at home than sit alone here.

Cassian reached out his hand to summon his mate to him. He couldn’t stand up because Mor had her legs draped across him. Nesta pressed her wrath down and let him kiss her on the lips, even if she hated to do so in public. But he liked it. There was a lot that Nesta did to please her mate.

Rhys didn’t linger after winnowing them onto the roof. He gave a short goodbye before disappearing into the night. Lucien followed Nesta as she walked the lengthy corridors, peeling back doors to find which room had been designated for Lucien while he stayed a couple of nights in the City of Starlight. A plush room overlooking the city was his, complete with a desk and rug from Sangravah.

‘I hope it’s to your liking,’ she said.

Lucien’s fingers enclosed around her thin wrist. The heat from his skin sizzled like a brand against her own. Cassian would scent him on her when he came home.

‘How can you bear this?’ His voice was quiet, hurt.

Her brow furrowed at his question. Was he asking about the unbearably tender way his thumb stroked over her veins or her life in general?

‘What?’

‘This is your house, apparently. And I am a guest because the high lord decided it. Not you. Not your mate. How are you not angry, Nesta?’

‘I don’t know what you mean.’

‘Do you like this? Any of this? You live in a fucking house you cannot escape from.’

‘The house is my friend.’

‘It is a house! You cannot leave without your mate allowing it. And still the high lord uses it for his official functions so it is not truly yours. He has put me in your home as a guest without your consent. None of these rooms were decorated by you. You own nothing here. You are a glorified prisoner.’

It should have made her angry. Her rage should have been a wild, violent thing but Lucien’s words had rattled around in her own head for weeks. She wanted a garden to potter around in when they had fair weather, a nook cut into the window to read her books in as the sun kissed her skin, a place for just her and Cassian that wasn’t a communal space. But in the last couple of weeks, she had wanted a space for her, without Cassian. She wanted a break from him sometimes. There was no joy to be found with him. Nesta no longer looked forward to him returning from lllyria – she dreaded it. Whenever their bodies weren’t slick with sweat from coupling, they had little to talk about. She listened to him speak of Illyria or Rhys, but she had nothing to share with him. He was with her when she trained, with her for dinners. The only time she had alone was when she was sent to work in the library or when she read – and Cassian didn’t care for books.

‘Do you even want to train?’

‘It makes Cassian happy when I do.’

‘And you?’ He stared at her in disbelief. ‘What joy do you get from it?’

Nesta tried to leave. He was throwing truths at her that she’d been trying so hard to ignore. That hand stayed clutching her wrist like an anchor that Lucien would not let go of.

‘Nesta Archeron, you changed your anatomy for that male after he made you march in the Illyrian mountains until you collapsed. They have torn out your claws and ripped out your fangs to make you more palatable. How can you not be angry when your mate has his head in another female’s lap? When he cannot even be bothered to say a proper goodbye because her legs hold him there. How are you not angry about the way he treats you?’

‘I am angry,’ she roared back, her rage flooding out of her in a wave she could not longer control. ‘I hate it. I hate all of it. I hate who I am – worse than before. I hate everything, Lucien. I feel like I am drowning and nobody can see.’

He gripped her other arm so he stood in front of her. ‘I see you. I see a female who is cutting out parts of herself to please others – and you will have nothing left, Nesta. Do not become my mother. What has Cassian changed for you? What has he altered in his life for you?’

‘Nothing. He has changed nothing. He has given up nothing. And I have given up everything for him.’

A sob broke out of her. She hated to cry, hated anybody else to bear witness to her pain, but Lucien wrapped his arms around her, holding her to him as she cried.

On the dawn of her mating ceremony, her stomach had been in knots. She’d wanted to call the whole thing off, but Elain and Feyre had convinced her that nerves were normal. If it was her wedding morning as a mortal, then she’d feel the same cold feet and reluctance so she had gone through with it. After, when Cassian danced with Mor and Feyre instead of her, she had cried on Gwyn’s shoulder. Nobody had noticed she was not even there for the final few hours. Emerie had told her that a mating ceremony was supposed to fill her with absolute joy – not dread – as she’d rubbed a hand along her spine. She had known a handful of people at the mating ceremony. They were all associates of Rhysand. Nesta had felt like a shiny trophy that was showed off by the Night Court; a prize that Cassian had finally won.

For weeks, Nesta’s mind played the same thing on a loop: not right, not right, not right.

Without Cassian, without the Night Court, Nesta had nothing. No money, no home. And she had lost her last home, lost the wealth that the High Lord of Spring had provided, lost her damn mortality due to the Night Court’s interventions. She had lost it once, lost it twice. There was no happiness here. Nesta couldn’t even say if she loved Cassian or the idea of him anymore. She could lose it all for a third time. Start again and try and find the happiness she deserved rather than the one she tried to give to everybody else by trading in the parts of her she had once liked.

‘I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.’

Nesta managed to pry her head from Lucien’s chest. She hadn’t shared those words with any – not Gwyn or Emerie – and shouldn’t have admitted those things to Lucien. A mating bond was supposed to be a happy thing. They ought to have been happy. But maybe Lucien knew better than any how wrong a mating bond could be.

‘Tomorrow, why don’t we take a walk in the fresh air? Consider me a neutral party to your woes.’

‘I have to train tomorrow.’

‘Have to?’

It was almost a year since she began the rigorous daily schedule laid out by her sister in that terrible meeting. Wake up, eat, train, eat, go to the library, eat, rest, repeat. She had barely missed a day. There was little variance to her days. It had panicked Nesta once, to think of a life without that steady, predictable routine. Now, she loathed it. It was a monotony that was slowly killing her.

‘In my personal opinion, it is better to step out now rather than one hundred years down the line. You do not want to look back and think of how much time you gave to people who did not deserve it. Time is the one thing we can never have again.’

His words made sense, but it was terrifying to go against the grain once more.

‘Let’s say ten by the market. If you’re there, you’re there. If you’re not, I won’t be cross.’ Lucien finally released his hands from her body, and she felt suddenly cold without his warmth. ‘Nesta, do what is best for you. They surely will do the same for themselves.’

That night, she was unable to settle. Her mind churned with worries and possibilities. In the rare time that Nesta had ever expressed to Cassian the desire for more, he could not understand it. For him, Velaris was everything he needed. He was settled. He’d had five hundred years here and wanted five hundred more. That thought terrified Nesta. There was a whole world out there and she would never see it if she stayed here, confined to the secret city.

When Cassian came to bed, he stunk of wine. He lumbered through the doors with his heavy steps. If she had been asleep, the light streaming in from the open door and the noise would have woken her. Nesta forced out a breath to try and calm her before she snapped at him. It wasn’t uncommon for him to come crashing into their bedroom after drinking with Azriel or Mor, sometimes even Feyre and Rhys. It was fine for them to do such a thing. Of course, it was. She forced out another breath, trying to calm the waves of anger that had been coming more frequently recently.

A heavy arm landed on her, pinning her to the bed, then a wing. It had once been something she craved. Now, Nesta knew she had only wanted comfort. Cassian had provided release to her when all other opportunities were taken. His weight was too heavy, suffocating even. And as Nesta tried to sleep, two words rang out again in her mind: not right, not right, not right.

***

The quilt was slowly pulled from her body as Cassian attempted to wake her. Nesta had slept terribly, adrift with worries and stress. It had not been far off dawn when she had finally managed to close her eyes and sleep.

‘I drank half a brewery last night and even I’m up before you.’

‘You smell like it,’ she said, before she could jail it.

‘Someone woke up pissed today.’

Last night, Nesta had prepared reasons to excuse herself from training. They had ranged from feeling unwell, her cycle coming, having plans with Gwyn which would require her to race to the library and ask her friend to also not attend. All of them disintegrated. She didn't owe him - or anybody - a reason.

‘I’m not training today.’

Cassian folded his arms across his chest. ‘Why not?’

‘Because I’m not.’

Her mood was prickly already like she had been months ago. It didn’t matter how many times Nesta had cut off her spikes, they always grew back.

‘That’s not a reason.’

‘I need to be flown to Velaris this morning, please. Otherwise, I should begin taking the stairs.’

Cassian raised his brows, but did not say anything else. It almost disappointed Nesta because she had been hankering for an argument. That was their most effective way of discussion. When Nesta tried to breeze past him, Cassian stopped her. ‘Breakfast.’

Nesta was in that mood. It had been a long time since she had let herself feel that way. As they sat at the table for breakfast, the house deposited a bland bowl of porridge for her. It had become her staple breakfast. Occasionally, a handful of berries might appear in it too, but it was usually plain porridge with water – not even milk. She added a heaped spoon of sugar into her porridge, under Cassian’s watchful eye.

‘That much sugar is not good for you, Nes. You’ll have no energy.’

Nesta nodded, used to the lecture, and added another spoon of sugar because that mood meant she was ready for an argument.

‘I want sugar. Porridge is the most boring meal I could ever envision. At least some sugar makes it bearable.’

‘If you must sweeten it, try a mashed banana.’

‘If I must? Yes. I must, because it is my breakfast and my body, Cassian. You do not have authority over it.’

Cassian threw up his hands so Nesta knew the battle was already won. ‘Ask Az to take you to Velaris. I’m not dealing with you this morning.’

Another person in their house.

Nesta watched him leave, satisfied and angry all at once. A banana appeared on the table near her bowl. She frowned. ‘Don’t listen to him. I hate banana.’

The house reclaimed it.

Knocking on the bedroom that Azriel tended to sleep in was always intimidating. He never ever let Nesta see an inch of the room. He’d slip through the gap and stand in front of her, closing the door behind him or obscuring it was shadow. Her, Gwyn, and Emerie had once spent an evening wondering what nefarious things he might have inside of it to make him so secretive. Emerie was certain there was a body in there. Or several of them.

As expected, he quickly hid his room from view.

‘Please could you take me into the city?’

‘Where’s Cass?’

‘Not dealing with me this morning,’ she replied brightly. Not a single part of Nesta felt bad about irritating Cassian over breakfast either. ‘Can you?’

Azriel nodded. ‘I’ve just taken Lucien’s to Rhys. Do you need to go now?’

There was about forty minutes until Lucien’s suggested meeting time, but Nesta wanted out of this house. ‘You sound irritated about that.’

‘I’m not a delivery service,’ said Azriel.

Nesta gave a shrug of her left shoulder. ‘Then maybe I shouldn’t be forced to live in a house that I cannot enter or leave without assistance. And maybe Rhys shouldn’t invite people into my house who have the same issue as me.’

She clapped her hands together. The words were leaking out, words that she had spent months clipping and locking away so that she would be seen as nicer and softer and kinder and gentler. Nesta was sure the moment that Azriel came into contact with Cassian, the males would discuss how difficult she was that morning, because as soon as Nesta stopped being compliant to their every whim, she was difficult.

If Azriel was annoyed, he did not show it. Gently, he lifted her to his arms and flew her into the city. Flight still made her queasy. The sudden drop made her stomach lurch no matter how carefully an Illyrian flew. She was set down on a street where she could look up to the House of Wind cut from the mountain. ‘Should I collect you at a certain time or send Cass?’

‘I’ll figure something out. Thank you.’

Without lingering, Nesta turned on her heel to examine the streets that she rarely got to explore. It was a pretty city, undoubtedly, but a city did not feel like home to Nesta. Neither did a crumbling cottage in the woods. Home had existed for a brief number of months. It had been the manor provided by Tamlin that straddled the forest and society. Nesta had enjoyed stepping into civilisation as much as she had enjoyed taking a step back and savouring the peace and quiet that the grounds had allowed. She wasn’t likely to find that in the Night Court, although perhaps Illyria could provide that if the males weren’t so decidedly hateful towards females, and especially towards her. It would be a life of fear there. Nesta had stepped foot once in Illyria since the Blood Rite and it had almost sparked a war. None would listen to her pleas that she had not wanted to enter it, that reaching Ramiel hadn’t been a goal, but the only way for her friends to survive. She had needed to be whisked out of Windhaven as a mob grew. They claimed she had made the ground unhallowed. No, Illyria would never be home.

With every passing minute that Nesta had her own independence, she remembered how much she had loved it. Nobody barking orders at her. Nobody thrusting her into a hole that she didn’t fit through. No expectations, no judgements. Just her.

Although Nesta did not have her own bank account, she had access to Cassian’s, as his mate. Until it was time to meet Lucien, Nesta pottered amongst the shops, gazing wistfully at the items. If it was her own money then she’d have happily splurged on more, but she settled only for a notebook with a darling illustration on the cover. The market was busy so she kept to the edges, peering over shoulders or through the gaps of bodies at stalls. The rich scents of spices filled the air, making her long for the far-off places that she would never visit if her life remained this way.

‘You freed yourself of the shackles of the House of Wind then?’

Nesta rolled her eyes at the sight of Lucien’s grinning face. ‘You are a bad influence.’

‘I’m glad you’re here, all the same.’ Almost instinctively, Lucien moved towards her and placed a kiss on her cheek. It ought to have been nothing – she was used to such behaviour from mortal men though they tended to kiss a hand with quivering lips from the icy glares she would give them. Yet, Lucien’s touch kindled something in Nesta.

‘Have you eaten?’

‘I had porridge. Two spoons of sugar, much to Cassian’s annoyance.’

Lucien’s mouth dropped open. ‘You’ll cause a scandal. Sugar. Not training. Whatever next?’

Nesta rubbed her hands together with delight. ‘You see there is a recently opened bakery that my lovely mate forbade me from entering. He claimed there was no nutritional value in any of it. So, Lucien, I should like to stuff myself silly, if that’s quite alright?’

An arm was extended for her to take. ‘Have Illyrians never heard of eating food simply because it tastes good?’

‘If it’s not chopped from a dead animal, it’s not worth it.’

It was surprisingly easy to talk to Lucien Vanserra. Nesta could not help but think how well Elain would get on with him if she actually bothered to have a civil conversation rather than hiding, the wretch. He was well-mannered and personable, guiding her through the market while sharing details of his morning meeting with Rhysand. Nesta had to wonder if he shared it simply because he also had nobody else to talk to beyond Jurian and Vassa in the mortal lands.

The bakery was painted a navy blue with silver lettering broadcasting the name. As Nesta stared through the window, she made an audible groan.

‘There’s too much choice.’

‘Eat it all. We have time.’

Lucien led the way to a table tucked into an alcove, out of sight from prying eyes. The few customers had opted for tables outside in the sunshine, but he had joked that his eye would blind Nesta if the sun hit it at the wrong angle. She found that she liked his jokes. They tended to be at his own expense rather than hers.

For starters, they shared a pot of black tea with milk, a scone heaped with jam and cream that they cut in two and a slab of carrot cake.

‘Cheers,’ said Lucien, knocking the brim of his teacup to hers.

‘Not far from here is a tavern that I used to go to when I was the Night Court’s nightmare.’

‘And now you are their dream come true.’

Nesta grimaced then gulped down a mouthful of too-hot tea. ‘Not this morning.’

She explained how she had been happy to incite an argument with Cassian but he’d not quite risen to the bait, then had been brisk with Azriel. Lucien didn’t berate her for it or tell her to be grateful that they trained or who flew her. He just let out a soft, tinkering laugh. ‘If that’s how you feel, that’s how you feel. You shouldn’t have to constantly stamp on yourself.’

Nesta shook her head. ‘But I’m not a nice person, Lucien. After the Blood Rite, after what happened with Feyre and Nyx, I vowed to be better. I want to earn their love.’

Lucien made a scoffing noise in the back of his throat. ‘Earn it? Fucking hell, Nesta, you saved the high lord, the high lady, and the heir. And you think somehow you have to earn their love?’

Before Nesta could speak, Lucien held up a hand. His brows had bunched together. ‘What have they done to earn yours?’

‘They gave me a home.’

‘After they tore down your apartment and evicted you from it.’

‘No, I mean after I left the mortal lands.’

‘Because they meddled in your life. Because Rhysand promised to have guards protect you, but when it came to it, they were not there and you went into the Cauldron.’

When it was put that way, the altruistic side of the Night Court was tinged more with necessity. Nesta swallowed against her dry throat. A small part of her had known that the only reason the Night Court had extended the branch of friendship to her was due to Feyre’s mating bond.

‘I wasn’t in a good place last year, Lucien. They helped me.’

‘They put you in that bad place, Nesta. They locked you in a house to keep you safe but trotted you out into danger when it suited them. You were taken to one of the most dangerous places in Prythian – the Bog of Oorid – so please forgive me when I say, it was not about your safety. It was about keeping you where they could see you.’

Urgh. Curse this male for striking at the truths that Nesta pretended not to see so that her anger didn’t seize control of her limbs.

‘I was fucking anything that walked.’

‘You weren’t fucking the right male, pardon my crude language. It wasn’t about the other males, it was the fact it wasn’t Cassian. If it isn’t true then why couldn’t you train with Azriel? Why couldn’t he be your chaperone? Why did they trap you with Cassian who has had his eyes on you since the moment he met you? Why did they never help you to train your magic?’

Nesta shoved the last wedge of carrot cake into her mouth, to give her a chance to think of rebuttals to all of Lucien’s very valid points. When she could think of nothing, Nesta said, ‘You’ve spent a lot of time thinking about this.’

‘I have,’ he said swiftly. ‘I couldn’t sleep last night. I worried about you. You reminded me of my mother too much. It made my conscience restless.’

‘I was pissing their money away in taverns.’

‘And they are short of money.’

‘It’s not the point,’ Nesta said, sweeping her hand in the air. ‘It was not my money to spend.’

‘Except you fought in the war and told your story. Were you paid for those things?’

‘No.’

‘And now, you are paid?’

‘What should I be paid for? For exercising? No, Lucien. I use Cassian’s money.’

It all sounded ridiculous. It was as if she was holding up a sheet and Lucien was stabbing holes into it. Everything he said made sense so Nesta couldn’t understand why she was still trying to argue in support of the Inner Circle.

Lucien folded his fingers together, watching as the waitress took away their dirty plates with the promise of bringing macarons and biscuits for their next pot of tea.

‘So that I understand, you no longer have any income whatsoever. You are reliant on your mate’s money. You are reliant on your mate to come and go from your own house. You follow the same schedule every day with no room for deviation. because it might upset your mate if you want more.’

A bland smile was plastered on her face. ‘That sounds about right.’

‘How can you be happy with a life that is so…’

‘Shit.’

The male choked on his laugh. ‘I was going to say stagnant.’

‘It is shit, Lucien. I know that. I am so bored already and I have an eternity of it, of being Cassian’s pretty, docile mate. I am losing my mind in this city. I hate it. I hate it. We have already run out of conversation and we haven’t even been mated for a year. The only thing he talks about is Rhys or Mor or Feyre. I want to scream.’

‘Scream then.’

Her grey eyes scanned the quiet bakery. ‘What, here? Just scream?’

‘Why not?’ he teased.

‘You are insane.’

‘I’m not the one giving up on myself to please people that do not care.’

Their heated discussion was interrupted by their second course of desserts. In silence, Lucien poured a fresh cup of tea for them both that Nesta dunked a biscuit in so aggressively that tea spilt over the edge onto the pristine, white tablecloth.

‘I’m not giving up on myself,’ she muttered.

‘Where are your dreams, Nesta? This cannot be your forever.’

‘I know,’ she said with a desperate plea in her voice. ‘What would you have me do? Nobody liked me when I was a viper. You didn’t like me.’

‘I never disliked you. You terrified me, yes. I admired that unbending spirit, the fact that you didn’t care who you stood up for yourself against, whether it was mortal queens or Rhys or my father. They have smoothed all of your sharp edges. The moment that they find another thing that doesn’t fit their perfect ideal, they will remove that too. Nesta,’ he sighed, ‘get yourself out of here.’

‘But Cassian’s my mate and I can’t just give up on that.’

‘He is five hundred and unlikely to change his ways. Do you want to spend every evening watching him with his arm around Mor?’

‘No. I wanted to gouge their eyes out yesterday.’

‘Me too. I nearly asked them what they thought they were doing.’

The thought made Nesta smile. Maybe there was somebody else in her corner rather than her alone. ‘Whenever I raise the topic, I’m brushed away. They’re just friends. They’re like siblings. Do you see me giving Elain a foot massage? I don’t feel good enough for him, Lucien. I can never compare to Morrigan.’

A thumb brushed against her cheekbone. There was real hurt in Lucien’s expression. ‘You are worth ten of them.’

Once they had both hit a wall with the amount of sugar they could ingest, they took a laboured walk along the river’s edge. Nesta kept one hand on her protruding stomach. ‘I am so full.’

Lucien murmured in agreement.

They followed the curve of the river all the way until the outskirts of the city where they crossed over one of the final bridges still within the boundary of Velaris then began their return on the other side of the Sidra for a different view. Nesta shared with him that this city did not truly feel like a home. And how could it when it wasn’t a home she had chosen? Not even a damn pillowcase was chosen by her. Their trailing feet led them to the sprawling river estate belonging to the high lord and lady of the Night Court. They’d have to scrounge a return to the House of Wind that way. Somebody would have to winnow or fly them both. If it annoyed them then good, Nesta thought, it annoys me that I cannot get into my own house.

‘I’m off again tomorrow for a few days. There’s a place for you to accompany me – if you’d like it.’

‘Where?’

‘Dawn Court. It’s safe. Still Prythian.’

Her body gave an involuntary twist of worry. ‘Cassian wouldn't be happy with me going with another male.’

'We're just friends. Tell him that, just as he and Mor are just friends.'

'You play a dangerous game,' she warned. 'Cassian won't-'

‘Fuck Cassian. What do you want?’

‘What’s in the Dawn Court?’

‘Only one dreary meeting with their emissary who is about as old as Prythian itself. Beyond that, golden hills and white sands. Beautiful plants, the brightest minds, and I’m sure lots of bakeries.’ Lucien threw her a wink. ‘Please, consider it. If you have to lie that you want to be emissary again or it’s for Gwyneth’s research, do it. Get out anyway you can.’

She felt her lips twisting into a rare, true smile. ‘To the Dawn Court then.’

#lucien vanserra #nesta archeron #lucien x nesta #nesta x lucien #be consumed by the flame

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oatmeal-stans-the-trash-rat · 8 months

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A Plot Hole and Reassurance

Ayy, another hurt/comfort fic because I have a problem. If ya want to be added or taken off the taglist, pls ask!

Pairing: Logince, gen

Trigger/Content Warning: insecurity, touch-starvation

Description: Logan doubts any and all creative merit he has. How could he be creative when he isn’t even Creativity? Roman doubts his own intelligence. How can he be smart when he struggles with basic logic? They both prove each other wrong in a wonderful brainstorming session, finally solving a plot hole the size of Thomas’ heart.

Extra: written for Day 5: Stroke of Genius of @loginceweek2024! And now to project on these poor men. Made myself cry, whoops. Relating to Roman as someone with a cognitive disorder. [Masterlist] | ao3 link

[read under the cut]

How can one be creative without being Creativity, and how can one be smart when traditional smart things are hard for them?

Surely, Logan can’t be creative. He isn’t Creativity. He’s Logic. He knows math and science and the stars. He can calculate in multiple variations, speak certain phrases in a multitude of languages, and spit out random facts without any prompt to do so. He’s reasonable for Reason and Critical Thinking and Common Sense. He isn’t creative, no matter what the Others say. No matter what Thomas may believe, Logan is Logic. That’s it. No matter how much he wishes he could understand Roman’s realm a bit more… it’s fine. He doesn’t have to be creative to be important, right? Even if he’s a part of a person who relies more on his creative merits for a career. And, yeah, the Chemical Engineering degree didn’t get him anywhere.

But he still needs his Logic! Everyone needs some Logic. Isn’t that how humans function best, with thoughts and reasoning? It’s fine.

Even when he really needs some creativity of his own to help with a ridiculously-sized plot hole, which no one can seem to find a solution to.

“How did this happen, again?”

“I don’t know, specs. Isn’t that your realm, hm? Aren’t you Logic?”

“Your point being?”

“My point is you’re the one with solutions! You, out of everyone else, have this unique ability to whip up solutions to problems that no one else sees. You have this- this super power that I’d be a coward not to acknowledge. You’re smart beyond belief, Logan,” Roman’s eyes sparkle when he gushes about Logan, almost forgetting himself and where he is.

Logan rolls his eyes, a light blush forming from the compliments he’s still not used to hearing. Ever since the unforchunate events of the post-wedding meeting, they’d gone to each other and apologized for their past mistakes. They’d been trying to rebuild their bond, which included Roman letting Logan know just how much he appreciated him. Logan has been a lot more kind with his criticisms, trying to be less harsh and more understanding. He’s always been astounded by Roman’s creativity and the way he ropes certain things together, and it’d been about time he told the Prince that. And every time he hears it, the royal has a hard time believing him. It’s been made clear just how much Roman’s been hurt and tossed around and used, and Logan’s done being a part of the cause. Now, even when they disagree, Logan makes sure Roman knows he’ll support him. He has his back, and Roman has his.

“It’s intelligent,” Logan playfully corrects, a small smirk tugs at his lips. “And… I don’t always have solutions, Roman. I’m not a- well, I don’t have superpowers. That’s absurd. I’m only a part of a human, much less a super one.”

Roman pauses, showing a look of concern that confuses the nerd.

“What were you gonna say?”

“What?”

“You were saying something but cut yourself off. What were you gonna say, specs?”

“It’s irrelevant-”

“Logan.”

Logan stops, snapping his mouth shut. He glances away, avoiding Roman’s worried face. Sometimes, it’s hard to believe that he has someone on his side. Too used to being ignored by everyone and silenced, it feels too unreal. Sometimes. He tenses, his shoulders scrunching themselves up. His jaw clenches, and Roman can’t stifle the noise of concern that slips out.

Roman sighs, “I don’t mean to scare you, cosmonaut. It just worried me.”

“...don’t laugh, please?”

“Of course not, cosmonaut. I won’t huff and puff any sound.”

Logan exhales a small laugh at the fairytale reference. He bites his lip for a moment, stopping once he realizes. He closes eyes, takes a breath, and looks at Roman.

“I meant to say that I’m… I’m not a robot. I don’t always have the answers to things, Roman.”

Logan’s voice is so unsure and soft and cautious that it makes Roman’s chest ache.

“I didn’t think you were, starlight. I’m sorry if I made it seem like I did. You amaze me with your intelligence, okay? That’s all I meant. You’re so intelligent and thoughtful, and you excel at all these smart things that I just don’t. I’m not really smart, and you always impress me with that brain of yours.”

Logan relaxes his shoulders and unclenches his jaw as he processes Roman’s words. It feels better, knowing he impresses Roman. Roman, who’s creativity rivals the greatest artists. I mean, objectively. Don’t tell Remus he said that.

However, it’s now Logan’s turn to look concerned as he processes the rest of his prince’s words. Roman smiles confused as he tilts his head at his detective.

“What is it, specs?”

“You aren’t smart?”

“Well, yeah, I know that.”

“No- Roman, why don’t you think you’re smart?”

“I mean, have you met me? I’m Creativity, specs, that doesn’t really account for a lot of brains. That’s your domain.”

“Roman, how can you not be smart? Who told you, you weren’t?”

“I- um, what?”

“Who told you? I apologize if I ever gave off that, uh, ‘vibe’, as you say-”

“What? No, you didn’t. It’s fine.”

“Ro.”

Roman rolls his eyes.

“...is it because of the whole ‘el príncipe es estúpido’ thing?”

“Whaaa, no. It’s not important, specs.”

“It is, because it’s you and you’re important.”

Roman stutters before shutting up, looking away and crossing his arms stubbornly.

“Roman.”

He huffs.

“My prince, please.”

Roman risks a glance at his astrophile, softening when he sees his unrestrained worry on his beautiful face. The pet name makes him blush and dissolve his stubbornness a bit. That goddamn voice when he says it. For f*ck’s sake, how can one person be so good at doing that- that? That thing he does when he’s worried and gentle and soft. Goddamnit.

Roman sighs, “...maybe.”

“My prince, I am sorry I hurt you like that. If I could time travel, I’d make sure I never started in the first place.”

“You’ve already apologized, specs.”

“I know, but I’ll say it again if it helps. And it’s still hurting you.”

Logan holds out his hands, and Roman lets him grab his own as he unfolds his arms. The touch surges warmth through his arms and burns a deep squishy part in his chest. He gasps for a moment, trying to get a hold of himself as the fire in his heart crackles brighter than it has in a long time. He wobbles a little bit, and Logan holds him tighter as he does. The detective frowns, worry increasing.

“It’s not just- just- how’d you get so warm?” Roman’s eyes haze over as Logan rubs soft circles on his knuckles.

“Oh, Roman. You poor, poor thing,” Logan mumbles, cupping one hand on his face.

Roman’s now-free hand grabs blindly for Logan’s arm, gripping it like a lifeline. Logan strokes his thumb lightly across his prince’s jaw, and it wobbles slightly. Roman’s eyes grow misty.

“My prince, how long has it been since someone last touched you?”

“I don’t- please,” the Prince whines as his eyes shut, unsure what he’s even begging for.

“Shh, I’ve got you, I’ve got you.”

Logan cups Roman’s face with his other hand. Roman responds by melting and grabbing his other arm, trying to ground himself in the surreal reality that this is real, he’s really holding my face, he’s really there. Roman can only lean forward to set his forehead on Logan’s as he feels him shake and become unsteady.

After a few minutes, Roman finally attempts speaking again.

“I need… I can’t think when you do this.”

Logan nods, reluctantly letting go of Roman’s face. The knight in gold, white, and red whimpers at the loss of warmth. He forces himself to ease on Logan’s arms, opening his eyes but remains looking at the floor.

“It’s not just the whole… ‘el príncipe es estúpido’ thing. I guess I, well, I’m not very good with the basic logic things. I’m not- I don’t understand common sense or the most basic of smarts. Not like you do, not in any way, and I’m not smart. How can I be smart if I can’t understand those things?”

“Can I touch you again, my prince?”

Roman glances up to Logan’s eyes the best he can with their head so close, and he nods. He stumbles again when he feels all the burning warmth rush back as Logan cups his face again. He goes back to everything he did previously, and it just melts the poor royal. Logan can’t hold back his coo as Roman’s eyes flutter shut again.

“Just because you struggle with a lot of cognitive smarts doesn’t mean you aren’t smart. Far from it. It simply means that your intelligence comes from your creativity rather than your logic. I think it’s wonderful how smart you are, Roman. You’re so creative and know how to tie together certain things and sew up loopholes without batting a figurative eye. I’m astounded by your intelligence. You impress me more times than I can remember with your problem-solving when it comes to using your creative merits for more than storybooks.”

Roman is breathless by the time Logan ends, feeling unnoticed tears fall down his face and over Logan’s hands. Logan gently thumbs them away as Roman sniffles, crying harder.

“I don’t know if I can believe you, Lo,” he cries.

“That’s okay. I’ll be here to remind you until you do, my prince.”

“Even when I do?”

“If you want me, then yes.”

“I do, I do want you, Logan.”

Logan smiles kindly, pressing a light kiss to his companion’s nose. Roman gives a watery smile in return. The detective lets go of his face and holds out his arms slightly, separating from his prince for a second.

“Come here, my prince. Come let me hold you- oof.”

Roman rushes into his astrophile’s arms, feeling Logan wrap around him tightly. He cries still, burying his face into his companion’s chest. Logan rubs bigger circles on Roman’s shoulder blades. It makes his precious royal gasp and his breath hitch as he leans more into him.

“There you go. Just like that, my prince.”

It takes a while- both unsure how long- but eventually, the burning slowly eases to a vibrant warmth in Roman’s chest. Logan leans his head back to look at his knight.

“Feel any better, hm?”

“Mhm,” Roman feels hazy and wonderfully fuzzy as he relaxes and slumps against his fellow Side’s body.

“Good. You think we can try working out the plot hole now?”

“Mm, yeah. Just give me a minute, specs.”

“Okay,” he says as he kisses Roman's hair.

A few minutes later, and Roman finally comes to. He blinks, easing out of Logan’s embrace. He rubs his red-rimmed eyes, mentally noting to fix his makeup later. He notices some of it got on Logan, along with wet tear-spots and snot.

“Sorry for getting all my stuffs on you,” he speaks softly.

Logan looks down, huffing amused.

“It’s quite alright, Roman. I can always wash it.”

“But you’re always so clean, specs. What would you do if I ruined your reputation?” the Prince jokes.

Logan smirks playfully, “Then I guess I’d have to get you back.”

“And how would you do that?”

“Well, I can’t just tell you my secrets.”

“Logan, that’s not fair.”

“Oh? How’s that?”

“No. No, I know that’s a trap, no.”

They both snicker at each other before calming down.

“Okay, now the plot hole?”

“Right. Well, it’s for the short story, right?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, let’s see… so we come to the part where the protagonists are captured at the antagonists’ lair, and they know them already. So, how do they?”

Logan huffs, “I’m not very good with creativity, Roman.”

Roman gives him a weird look, but decides to brush it off for the time being.

“Well, how do people usually find out who you are without you telling them first?”

“If we look at history… usually, it’s because someone else told them.”

“Okay, what else?”

“I don’t know, Roman.”

“Well, neither do I! Come on, specs. Go deeper, keep thinking.”

Logan sighs, “Okay. Historically, it’s because someone who knows you already tells the other person without your knowledge. Like figuratively spilling a secret, if you want to go that far.”

Roman nods, “Okay, okay. How do we apply that to our main plotline?”

“Roman-”

“Specs.”

“Fine, if you insist so much. During wartime, there’s a trend of spies or double agents spreading country secrets.”

Roman’s eyes light up like spotlights as an idea forms.

“Oh my gosh, that’s it! Specs, you’re a genius.”

Logan blushes as he raises an eyebrow inquisitively.

“Do tell, Roman.”

“What if one of them were a mole, a spy in the ranks, a betrayer in their adventuring group? That’s how they know the protagonists and who they are. Oh, what if it’s the leader? I need my binder-”

Logan smiles as the plot holes gets resolved, glad he can help in any way. Roman summons his binder and a pen, flipping to the page they marked last session. He scribbles, excited as he writes, bursting and vibrating with creative energy.

“I’m glad it got sorted out, Roman.”

Roman’s smile is alike the Moon; bright, addictive to look at, and could be considered divine.

“If it wasn’t for your creative stroke of genius, it wouldn’t have been. I appreciate it, specs.”

Roman almost misses the small way Logan shrinks. The astrophile rolls his eyes and scoffs.

“I’m not Creativity, Roman. I can’t be creative.”

The aforementioned knight immediately looks up as he stops writing.

“And why not, faux serpent?”

“I’m not lying, Roman. I don’t have creativity. I’m Logic, not-”

“So? If I can be smart and sh*t, why can’t you be creative?”

“Because- because I’m just not.”

“Oh? Who said that I, a very not-logic-smart faucet, was smart but in my own way? The same logic applies to you, specs. You just proved you’re creative!”

“By what? Knowing historical facts?”

“Yes!”

“How is that creative, Roman?”

“It’s creative in your own way, Logan. You using your logic and facts to come up with a solution for a plot hole, that’s creative. That’s how.”

Logan scoffs in disbelief.

“Starlight, why don’t you believe me?”

“Because I can’t be creative! I’m not- that’s not how it works.”

“And why not? Why can’t you be creative?”

“Because I’m not you! I’m not Creativity. You and Remus have your own creative merits, and you know how to weave together irrelevant pilot points and make it make sense. You’re so impressive with how much intelligence and hard work it takes to do what you do, Roman. And I’m… I’m not you.”

Roman sets his pen and binder down on the nearest table, walking calmly towards his companion. He holds out his hands, just as Logan did for him, offering to hold his. Logan takes his hands silently, looking down at them rather than at Roman.

“Oh, starlight. You don’t have to be me to be creative. I appreciate all the praise, you know I do. You don’t have to be like me nor Remus. I mean, sometimes you two have frighteningly similar interests in subjects, which is just weird,” Roman jokes, squeezing his astrohphile’s hands, making him snort. “But you can still be creative, my dearest star. You helped me solve a horribly troublesome plot hole with that creative, wonderfully logical brain of yours. You’re just creative differently from Remus and I.”

Logan huffs, smiling slightly as he looks back up at Roman. Roman smiles back.

“I hate when you use my words against me,” he grumbles.

“Well, I guess you need to stop being right, then.”

“I thought I wasn’t right all the time, Roman. Admitting I’m right when you’re not, are you?”

“Hey- no, don’t you dare.”

“Don’t I dare do what?”

“No.”

They both break into laughter, yet again, and almost forget that they’re still holding hands.

“...can I hug you again, Roman?”

“I’ll do you better, specs. Let me finish the last bits of fixing this plot hole, and we’ll go cuddle and watch that crow documentary you wanted to see?”

Logan’s smile grows, “Okay.”

Roman plants a light kiss to his detective’s hand before he lets go and returns to his binder.

After he finishes writing, they do as promised. Roman summons away his pen and story binder, taking Logan by hand over to his room. He has a tv mounted on one of his walls, a remote on his bedside. He and Logan snap themselves into soft things and gather up on the bed, already summoning a few snacks and drinks. The Prince snaps, summoning a wipe and decides to clean the excess makeup off. They cuddle tightly together. Roman melts at how warm Logan is, and Logan feels reassured with Roman by his side. Roman clicks over to the crow documentary and presses play. As it starts, he leans his head against Logan’s shoulder. A small, fond smile tugs at the nerd’s lips.

They prove each other’s insecurities wrong and rest against each other for a while.

Taglist: @lost-in-thought-20 @thegoldenduckie

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allandoflimbo · 1 year

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I C E P R I N C E S S 12

Pairings: Popular Girl!Reader x Outkast!Bucky

Explicit Content - Smut - NO MINORS

Summary:

Bucky Barnes is the quiet boy who gets picked on.

The Reader and her friends run with the popular crowd at Stark High.

As the Winter Ball approaches, she is partnered with Bucky Barnes for a class project. They grow close in an inadvertently secret friendship, which later turns into love.

Only catch is…she’s Steve Roger’s ex girlfriend, and before she was partnered up with Bucky, her friends had planned to use and turn Bucky into Stark High’s new it boy to try and get back at Steve; a disgusting bet.

Another catch: She’s a figure skater at the town’s arena every Tuesday and Thursday nights. Bucky works part time at the rink resurfacing the ice. The other doesn’t know.

Modern AU High School fic - later goes into adulthood.

M A S T E R P A G E - FULL SERIES

Warnings: This story will have a lot of angst, a lot of fluff, a lot of cursing, and a lot of sex. Oral, praise kink, body worship, overstimulation, etc. you know me. There will also be loss of virginity in this.

Please support your content creators and writers and leave a review.

P R E V I O U S C H A P T E R

You hear the birds before you open your eyes. Memories from last night wash over you the second you shift your arms. You feel the warm body laying next to yours.

This felt unreal.

Your eyes open slightly and you can see Bucky's back and the back of his head. A head of cute boyish dark brown hair.

You looked down, impressed that he managed to still keep his arm around you.

You didn't want to wake him up, but at the same time you both didn't want to call too much attention to yourselves in the house.

It's then that you remember that that means the girls know you didn't sleep in your room and the guys know he didn't sleep in his.

You sigh, deciding to think about that later and think about the now instead.

You felt a smile on your lips as you bury yourself more within the blankets. You moved up until your hands were against his back.

You fall back asleep for a little bit longer.

You don't know how long you're out for before you're awaken by the bed shifting up and down. You groan slightly as you stretch out your legs and toes.

Your eyes flicker open.

Bucky's sitting up on his side of the bed, but he was facing away from you.

He must've heard your little groan because he turns his head to look at you.

The second your eyes meet, a million butterflies escape into your tummy.

You can feel your cheeks burn.

He smiles at you.

He reaches over to place the phone he had been just using on the night stand.

"Hey," he says quietly. He stretches over to you and brushes one of your hair strands away from your shoulder, "sleep okay?"

You nod. You feel the tingles on your skin where he just touched you.

"Yeah. You?"

He lets out a small chuckle.

"Yeah." He says softly.

You keep eye contact as you make a grab for his hand that is still on your arm, and you take his hand, bring it to your lips, and kiss his knuckles there.

He keeps eyes contact with you the whole time.

Was this what high school sweethearts really were?

Was this both of you now?

You're convinced it has to be because you've never felt like this with anyone ever. Not even Steve.

He wasn't even close.

You felt like you were in a damn Taylor Swift song right now.

"So you like me." He says sweetly, pulling you away from your thoughts.

Both your eyes soften. He runs his thumb over your cheek.

"I do." You say.

"About last night—" he starts.

"It was perfect. Unexpected, but I'm glad it happened." You whisper.

"I'm glad it happened, too," he pulls his hand away from you and he fixes himself until he's laying on his side facing you. It's then that you notice he already has his boxers back on, "how are you feeling?" He asks.

"A little sore, but not bad."

"Good."

You move in closer to him until your hands are on his chest. He welcomes you, throwing his arm around your waist.

"I don't want to leave here yet. Can it just be us for a little bit?" You ask.

"I'd love to stay with you here," he takes in a deep breath, "but it is almost eleven AM. We're going to have to go down eventually."

"It's eleven?"

He hums a confirmation.

You lay for a few more minutes in comfortable silence.

"I'm going to need to run to the store. We can go just us together. Would give us some time alone." You say.

"Awww I'm honored. You only want to spend time with me." Bucky says, a playful tone in his voice.

"It's not that I don't want to spend time with my friends, it's just, we —we're something. I want to be with you. Not just in general, but today."

You feel a finger under your chin and you tilt it up to where it guides you.

He runs his lips over yours. It's languid and dances with your own sensually.

He pulls away.

"You're something else," he runs his hand over your face, "beautiful, gorgeous, sweet, smart." his eyes dart down to your lip.

His words are precious.

You lean up and kiss him again, this time letting your tongue run over his. You feel his hand drag down your neck, your arm, and eventually to your hip. He deepens your kiss, pulling your body closer to his. He pulls your bottom lip in between his and nibbles on you playfully. When he's done he opens up to you again, your tongues clashing together in a bruising kiss.

You pull back way too soon, he sighs, and you place soft kisses over his upper chest.

"When we get back home remind me to make your parents some of my famous jalapeño poppers."

Bucky laughs out loud.

"Jalapeño poppers?" He continues to laugh, turning onto his back until he's staring at the ceiling. You watch this beautiful boy fill with happiness, a hand running through his messy post-sex hair, "you're so silly, squirmy."

You snicker.

"Squirmy?"

"Oh, yeah. Definitely." You put a hand to his chest, Mmm, hmm," he faces you again and leans in closer to you bringing his hand to your lower back and over the side of your thigh. It blew your mind how comfortable you both fell into this. It was so easy, so effortlessly beautiful. He leans his face closer to yours and bumps his nose against yours, "Kicky, too." He whispers.

You chuckle.

"Kicky?" You ask, playfully offended.

He nudged your nose with his again, also chuckling.

"Oh, yea." his eyes go down to your lips and his hand continues to venture it's way down your leg and behind your knee.

"Bucky..."

He gives you a look you recognize and you feel a sudden tension in the air.

"I'm really glad you're here." He says suddenly serious, "Not just right here right now, but in general," it's then that you feel him drag his fingers over the scar that no one else had ever seen but you, right on your upper inner thigh. You suddenly understand the meaning of his words and it has heavy tears brewing in your throat. He's glad you survived your accident and that you were both able to experience this, "Does it hurt?" He asks you sweetly.

"Sometimes." Your response is barely a whisper.

You both close your eyes as he brings your leg around his hip. He closes the distance between the both of you, kissing you the deepest you've ever been kissed.

You sigh against his lips, running your hand up the side of his face and to the back of his neck.

When he eventually pulls away from you, you feel cold. Like ice.

You needed him to keep warm.

"We should go down." You say.

—-

The second you both step into the kitchen, the talking quiets down. Everyone tries to keep attention to what they were previously doing, but the obvious glances and smiles are noticeable.

You feel yourself blushing as you make your way to the fridge for some orange juice.

You sneak behind Sam and he mumbles a quick sorry when he realizes he's in your way.

Bucky sits next to Sharon on the stool at the island. He picks at the grapes, grabbing a few and popping them in his mouth.

"I was worried when we didn't see you guys last night. It started to rain bad." Steve says from the couch.

"Yeah it got pretty bad." You say, still not making eye contact with anyone, pouring your juice in your glass.

Did they hear you guys?

You had both tried so hard to be quiet.

Bucky moves slightly in his seat and his eyes inadvertently meet Matt's across the room. He's sitting there next to Steve, a heavy and dark look in his eyes.

He looked pissed.

Bucky was getting tired of this guy and whatever problem he had with him.

Bucky looks away, resisting the urge to eye roll.

"We're running out in a bit. Gonna go grab some more drinks and shit, you down to come with us, Buck?" Sam asks as he leans back against the counter.

Bucky's eyes flicker to you and to Sam.

"Sure. When are you guys going?" He asks.

"In a few minutes. We can wait for you."

You clear your throat.

"Actually, me and Bucky were going to stop somewhere together first, if that's alright with you Bucky? I'll promise to have him back not too late for you guys to go then to the store." You say confidently.

Bucky smiles. He was genuinely curious for what you had in mind.

It's then that his eyes travel down your neck and he feels a heavy blush on his face.

"Okay, cool." Sam says.

You take a few sips of your OJ and turn for some toast. That's cut too soon, though, when you hear Carol call you.

"Come over here, we gotta show you something." Carol calls from the couch where she's shifting next to Matt and across from Steve. Once you sit down on her other side she leans forward to whisper in your ear, "did you see your neck?"

You're confused by her question.

"My neck?" You pull away to examine yourself, your eyes darting briefly to Steve who has an interesting look on his face. Carol giggles and brings you in again by your arm, "you have hickeys everywhere, girl."

——

You and Bucky both jump into your Jeep, but Bucky jumps into the drivers side and you in the passenger seat.

He starts your car and kicks on the heat to low.

It felt so intimate being with him like this, even though last night was the epitome of intimacy.

You text something to your mom as you pull out your phone, letting her know the trip is going well.

When you're done you place it on your lap and look out the window into the trees and cabin and then to Bucky.

He looked adorable as he kept pressing all kinds of buttons on your dashboard to regulate the air.

His jaw was sharp and his long lashes contrasted beautifully with his Ocean blues.

"So where are we going?" He asks.

"The pharmacy." You say, "for an AP student trying to get into goddamn Yale you're not very connecty-of-the-dotsy." You say playfully.

He gives you a funny look and chuckles.

"Offensive but cute," he puts on his seatbelt and puts the car in rear to back out of the parking space. The puts his right hand on the back of your seat and looks behind him as he does so, his left palm turning the wheel as he goes, "what are you talking about?"

"I need plan b, I'm not on birth control." you explain.

He finishes backing up and puts the car into drive.

He looks over at you for a second.

"Shit, right. Okay."

"And...we need to get condoms. I'm not going on birth control right now cuz of stuff I have going on in my eighteen year old body that pisses me off, so we're going to have to stick to the classic way for now."

The edges of Bucky's lips perk up.

"So, you're saying it'll happen again?" He asks.

You're a bit surprised at his question even though you know he means no harm and it's partially being teasing.

You reach for his right hand and hold it in yours.

He rubs your knuckles with his thumb.

"I'm your girl now. You're my boy. I think it's safe to say it'll happen again." You say.

He brings your hand to his lips and he leaves a kiss there.

He doesn't let go of your hand the entire car ride.

——

You both run to the car in a fit of giggles and laughter.

You rip the pink box open once you're in your seat.

Bucky hands you a water bottle and you take the pill.

"Head back to the cabin?" He asks as he turns the car back on.

"Actually —"

"I'm not going to anymore creepy churches, squirmy."

You giggle.

"It's not." You show him the way through the roads, "just take that first left onto Hollow Terrace and then you're see a bench on the side of the road, you can turn in there."

He follows your directions.

Hollow Terrace is a long road. Secluded and isolated; completely incased by large maple trees.

"You didn't bring me out here to kill me, did you?" He asks.

"Always." You reply quickly, tossing him a toothy grin, "right here!" You tell him once you see the bench.

He turns the car onto a gravel road. He drives for a few more hundred feet until the trees disappear and you're face to face with a guardrail. Behind that in the distances is a large body of water, a huge lake, and a mountain.

"An overlook?" He asks as he pulls up near the edge of the cliff.

"One of my favorite spots."

"You sure have a lot of favorite little spots around here." He whispers, looking out into the scenery, "it's beautiful."

You lean forward and leave a kiss on his shoulder.

You then lean down next to your feet and you pull out the plastic bag that you had brought from the cabin.

You hand him a foiled square.

"I made us sandwiches."

"I was wondering what that was!"

You smirk at him as you both open your own little squares.

"I come prepared." You say.

"Can I ask something?" He says, halting on his sandwich. You nod, "can we take the top off?" He motions to the top cover of your jeep.

You raise a brow at him and then look at the cover.

"Sure. I mean we'll be freezing on the ride back to the cabin, but yeah. We can take the doors down too. It's a bit heavy though. I'd have to help you. We can put them in the back. I have a cotton tarp so they don't scratch up."

"Let's do it." He doesn't even hesitate to hop out the car.

You both get the doors and cover off in about fifteen minutes.

"So what was your plan?" You ask him, hands on your hips.

He smiles at you and climbs into the front seat. He reaches his hand for you but on the passenger side.

"Come on." You follow his lead and before you can sit he stands up and places his hands on your waist. He picks you up easily and places you on the bar that runs down the middle of the car. He follows and sits next to you, "now we can eat." He says, reaching back for his sand which.

You're halfway down your second sandwich and you and Bucky have discussed everything from your childhood to your families. Bucky was still waiting to hear about his mother's status. You were both waiting on hearing back from the colleges you applied to.

You felt it was too early to still discuss if you should try to get colleges close to each other. It was a lot of pressure and this was only your second day together.

"Do you listen to Taylor Swift?" You ask him suddenly.

He chuckles.

"Uhm. Not a lot but I know some songs, I guess. Like the mainstream ones? I don't really listen to them on repeat, though," he takes a gulp of his water and looks at you, "why? You a fan?"

"I'm not a swiftie but there are songs I really like. I don't know why I brought it up honestly, I guess it's because I feel like what we're doing right now is just so..." you take a deep breath as you look up at the sky for words to explain what you were thinking.

"So...." Bucky mimics you, waiting for an answer.

"It's very, I was enchanted to meet you." Is the only explanation you can think of.

He doesn't say anything to that. You continue to eat until he's eventually finished and he wipes his mouth with a napkin.

"Mom wants to know what I'm up to right now." You say, looking down at your phone.

Bucky leans his right arm down on the car and places a kiss on the left shoulder.

"Tell her the truth."

You turn to him and smile.

"And what's that?"

He looks down at you and pushes your hair behind your ear.

"Your sitting on your car, eating sandwiches, looking at the mountains, and singing Taylor Swift lyrics," his gaze goes to your hair and he rolls the strands between his fingers, "with Bucky."

The words linger in the air until your eyes meet again.

You lean forward and kiss him softly.

"Okay." You say when you pull away.

He wasn't expecting you to actually listen to him, and the fact that you were telling your mother about him sent an excitement through him that he had never really felt before.

You don't know how long you both stay out there, but it's long enough to where Bucky needs to reach back and grab you an extra sweatshirt in your trunk. He helps you pull it on.

"You ready to go?" You ask him.

"Yeah, we should." He says.

You both get into your seats but he doesn't drive off and he doesn't turn the car on.

You wonder if he's feeling the same thing you are and if that's why.

"Bucky." You whisper hoarsely.

He turns to look at you and you don't realize he was holding in a deep breath. The second your eyes meet, he exhales through his nose.

Damnit, you were screwed for the rest of your life.

Without any hesitation you both meet halfway. You've got your hand in his hair and he's got his left hand on your side, pulling you closer to him. Your mouths kiss each other like it's the last time they ever will, even though you both know it's not. He groans against your lips, drinking your taste in. It's the whimper he leaves when his hand travels down your thigh that does it for you.

You don't waste even a second to sit on his lap, helping him push the seat back so you have room against the steering wheel.

"What if someone sees us?" He asks you, panting.

"No one ever comes here. Too many bears." You say before kissing him hard again, your chest flushed with his as you sit up and hover over him.

He's got his hands on your hips. Guiding you tight against him.

Your hands go down to your jeans and you start to unbutton them. He helps you take them off, along with your underwear, and then he's on you again.

He would never get tired of kissing you.

But something nags at him as he looks up at you and as he feels your core dragging against his zipper.

He cups your cheek.

"This isn't just physical to me. You know what right?" He says quietly.

"This isn't physical to me either." You tell him.

"Don't get me wrong. I love your body and I love expressing myself to you that way, but you're so much more than that to me."

"Yeah?"

"I like doing this with you because I think it's the best way to express how much I like you. Your eyes, your energy, your aura, your cute little nose, that sweet voice of yours, your personality, the way you get so passionate about the things you love, your hospitality. This feels good but it's so much more than pleasure."

"I feel the same way about you. And I know we're moving so fast, but it feels so right." You whisper.

He leans up and kisses you again.

You hastily unbutton his jeans and pull down his zipper. Bucky let's out a long moan as you grab him and begin to stroke him.

He shifts his hips until he's in a better angle.

"Yes," he hisses through his teeth, looking down at your hand jerking him off, "mmmm."

Your tongues dance together as you continue to rub his dick.

You were learning so fast.

You quickly pull away to lick your hand and your return it down to him. Bucky moans when you kiss him again, tasting himself on your sweet tongue.

His own right hands goes for your center and he rubs your clit with his pointer finger.

You moan against his mouth.

You were so drunk on him. You were so ready. You were already on the brink.

You let your tongue travel down his neck as you sit yourself up a little more, thankful that you had taken down the door so your right foot could actually straddle him properly.

He reaches into his back pocket and grabs one of the condoms he had put in there. You watch as he slides it on.

You're impatient for his cock inside of you. You grab his shaft as you hover over him and you guide it, sliding down completely onto him.

You gasp.

"Oh, fuck." You whimper.

This was so much better this time.

"Shit," he grunts as you engulf his cock up and down.

You support your left hand on his right shoulder and your right goes to the seat next to his left shoulder, in a half sitting position.

You moan as you bounce over him.

This felt so different than the first time. The first time was great, but the pain had definitely been a distraction. This time there was only pleasure and the fact that you were connected and having sex.

You're having sex.

With Bucky. In a parked car.

This turns you on more than you realize and you throw your head back as the pleasure overwhelms you.

"Fuck. Fuck." You say over and over again. You suddenly wished you had more room to move. You gave him some slow rolls a you brought your pelvis down flushed against his, "God, Bucky." You could feel him deep inside your tummy, hitting you just right.

You were so close.

"That's it, baby girl. That's it." He groans. His hand goes to the back of your neck as he pulls you in for a wet kiss that is only tongue.

You were so filthy together.

"I'm so close." You cry, puckering your lips for added affect.

He runs his thumb over you top lip.

"Yeah? You gonna cum for me?" You whimper and nod, increasing your speed, "I'm gonna cum for you too."

His words cause you to close your eyes and grunt.

"I'm cumming." You cry out in a plea.

You quicken your bounce, your mouth stuck in an open gasp as you ride out your orgasm.

He starts fucking up into you roughly.

He feels amazing. His jeans hitting your thighs feel amazing. His two hands grabbing your ass and driving you down feels amazing.

He cums into you with a heavy groan.

"I'm cumming so hard." He groans out through heavy moans as he continues to move you on him.

His comments triggers another orgasm out of you and you cling onto his neck for dear life.

Two minutes of panting and birds chirping pass by.

You're both sweating and giggling together as you fall onto him, your body feeling like jelly. He kisses your jaw and the side of your neck.

"I really like you. Incase you can't tell." You tell him, placing a kiss on his shoulder.

He laughs out loud.

"I really like you, too." You rub your hands over his chest.

"You're sure this doesn't feel too fast?"

He takes a few long seconds to reply. You know he's thinking of a proper response.

"I know I'm happy right now. We'll deal with each thing as it comes."

"Does that mean I can officially call you my boyfriend?"

"Thought that was a given," he chuckles, kissing you, "I'm your boy, Y/N. and you're my girl."

With that, you got dressed and Bucky zipped up his jeans and you both made your way back to the cabin just in time for food.

N E X T C H A P T E R

Tag list: @dinoswierdmom @sebsgirl71479 @wintasssoldier @melimelbean @steadygoopangelhairdo @prettywhenicry4 @bonkybarnes106 @undeadhoneydew @midnightvitality @ene-rene @ccmarvelxx @hanahkatexo @gr33nleo @missaprilt23 @lfaewrites @charmedbysarge @tilltheendofthelinepal9950 @buckybarnesandmarvel @ducks118 @lokisdrottning @kianamka @toadstools119 @adoringsebstan @troubledhemmings @buckybarnesandmarvel @charmedbysarge @buckybarnesandmarvel @redbarn1995 @chloe-skywalker

A/N: Enjoy the fluff while it lasts. - the angst bitch

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x reader #mcu fanfic #marvel fanfiction #winter soldier fanfic

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anhed-nia · 3 months

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I just finished a barely-interrupted binge of all four seasons of this show, and now I hardly know what to do with myself. A while ago I began research for a project on true crime television, which brought me into contact with an unscripted show veteran who strongly recommended UnReal, a drama about a field producer on a Bachelor-like program who is both extremely good at her job, and extremely mentally ill. It was way better than whatever I expected. I don't watch a ton of TV--which is not a declaration of my superiority in any dimension, it's just that I need to spend most of my time on movies, and I'm kind of particular (not due to "good taste" necessarily, just particular). UnReal initially comes off like a regular old cable show--to me it looks more or less like a CW product or something, with no hint of auteurship like there is with Fargo or Better Call Saul or whatever else usually lures me to television--but the writing pulls absolutely zero punches and I could not take my eyes off it. There is an occasional lull where things are more predictably soapy and I'd think "OK, well that was nice while it lasted," and then as soon as my guard was down something legitimately shocking would happen and I'd be back in my seat, watching unblinkingly.

The show is based on actual experiences of co-creator Sarah Gertrude Shapiro, a one-time producer on The actual Bachelor, which I only found out after the fact but I was thinking all along, "This is so grotesque that I'm sure it (or something like it) really happens." UnReal's other mastermind is Marti Noxon, who has credits on a lot of dark and/or construably feminist shows that have met with more success (don't ask me, I thought Sharp Objects was OK and I've never been attracted to Buffy, I just can't handle anything Joss Whedon-flavored), and she seems to have a real knack for telling psychologically realistic stories of seriously disturbed women. Which I appreciate a lot. My main complaint about UnReal was just that I wanted MORE, of all of it. Parts of the core mythology are just so fascinating that I craved a deep dive into all the details and consequences that I guess was just not in the cards for something with a large cast and a ton of moving parts. I'll just have to luxuriate in the intrigue since this ended in 2018.

...On which note I'll say that I think UnReal is colored significantly by Trump-era anxiety in ways that are more and less obvious. The show's chief concerns are more generally about the contributions of reality TV and social media to a culture of widespread bullying, but there is definitely something more specific in there about living under the reign of an unapologetic rapist who validates and empowers rapists at large, and feeling like the only way to preserve yourself in that world is to become a predator yourself. But anyway, the one question that is still burning my brain is about the fact that some of the set dressing features Silver Saaremaeel and Kaya Saaremaeel's gothy webcomic Run Freak Run. Which I've never read, actually I specifically found out about it because of posters hanging on office walls in UnReal. I really want someone to tell me how a gothy webcomic made it into the scenery of a major Lifetime drama. My pathetic websleuthing skills have failed to turn up active accounts for either of the comic's creators, so if anyone has a line on this information, please let me know! Meanwhile, you can watch UnReal on Tubi, the king of streaming sites.

^^^ Run Freak Run

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lilybug-02 · 2 years

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Happy One Year Anniversary to The Chara Timeline!!!

(I did it I finally made a front cover!!!)

It’s insane to me that it’s been a year since I started this comic. So much has happened these past 12 months, it feels unreal. And the most crazy part to me is that I’m still making it right now. Never thought I’d stay with a project this long. But that’s the magic of art 💖

Comic Talk Down Below!

Anyways, since it’s the one year anniversary, I thought I might share some fun facts and tidbits of my experience!

As an introduction, if you don’t already know, I started this as more of a one off thing, hoping to finish it in maybe 2 or 3 parts (oh how naïve I was). Surprisingly though, I had no intention to mention Chara in my first comic at all. Instead, the human’s name was supposed to be an anagram of Chara: Racha (as a cute nod to Undertale). I decided against it last minute, because it was too subtle and the thought of Chara being in college made me smile… I guess it did for many of you too.

(Can you imagine if I went with that name tho. None of this would be happening!)

After I posted it, I got such a positive response. And so many questions? I was truly bamboozled! And it made me realize how much I wanted to continue the story. So I kept drawing. And now look at me a year later, Over 70 pages done with even a comic dub to boot?! Crazy!!

It’s truly an honor to have such a following for this comic. I’ve always looked up to comic artists and their willingness to put years into projects, but I never imagined that would be me now. I’ve put insane amounts of time into this thing, I mean I’ve been juggling it with full time college, I truly don’t know how I’m functioning. But I’ve gotten so much better at art and I’ve grown as a person because of it :)

Sorry if this was a long talk it’s just really cool to make such an expansive comic for the Toby Fox games I like. Really special ❤️.

Anyways here’s a fun look into how I draw for the comic. Sketches, line art, backgrounds, and coloring (plus shading/lighting)❤️

It’s fun seeing the difference in the progress!

Man I really gotta start a KoFi or BuyMeACoffee Start up lmaoo

I might be submitting some more behind the scenes or scrapped ideas if I feel like it! There’s a ton!

Maybe I should do a drawing stream sometime soon!…that might be really fun. ❤️💕

#deltarune chara timeline #bread #deltarune #happy anniversary #art #my art #comic progression #the player #ct q&a #undertale #deltarune au #sketches #chara #kris #asriel

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quintiliusheartripper · 8 months

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I will say while i am intrigued by the recent expansion and willing to see it through to the end-

(probably because i dont have an attatchment to a commander character. Like me and velak have a commander and characters attatched but im super flexible with it since he doesn’t really play anymore and eod feels like the true end to it all. I use the main story as a like… marker for events in the world since theres a lot of places that one can explore thats more enriching interesting and personal. I can still use the wizard tower as a plot point for some things but im still seeing the commander being an anomaly who wasnt supposed to happen in a living fractal and its why the wizards didnt do anything this whole time untill something was actually directly attacking them. )

-i am disappointed by a lot and part of it is the way they are doing the releases especially when the expansion is full priced and unfinished when released

It really feels like a cop out and a excuse and im more interested in arenanets unannounced project ive been tracking for a while. “A well funded mmo established fantasy rpg with a focus on story” running on a unreal engine and with linux support and also talking about “guild wars 2 and beyond”in their hiring. Im hoping its a guild wars 3 but this expansion DEEPLY feels like how it felt just before EOD during LWS5 where resources were being cut from one place to be placed in another. Like its one fractured expansion per year until…when? The unannounced game that started production 2022/23 is released? I just hope they figure out a way to keep the game running for people if they move on to a gw3 but gw2 is n entirely different beast from gw1.

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catonator · 1 year

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You hear about video game development?

Well. I wouldn't say I expected such a catastrophic implosion from Unity.

Now, I can't say that I didn't laugh at the situation. It's a hilariously terrible case of bad management coming up with bad ideas in desperation. But it's also a somewhat scary indication of the sorry state of the industry.

Unity controls about 40% of the engine marketshare (according to a linkedin post I found anyway). Unity dominates the engine scene by a large margin, followed by Unreal at around 30% and Cryengine by around 5%. Unity forms such a large part of the entire game development industry, that it's difficult to really even understand just how much they control the concept of games as a whole!

Most people are jumping to some paid alternatives, like the aforementioned Unreal and, to a lesser extent, Game Maker, but my suggestion is this: don't!

Within the last decade, all-encompassing closed super game engines have become less of a side venture and more of an expectation. Back in the 2000s, there were a few engines like this, mostly amateur ones. Game engines were less creation stations and more of a loose collection of middleware and tools. Purchasing the rights to the engine meant that you also got the responsibility of also tying the engine into something resembling a game yourself. I feel like this art has been lost.

Game engines nowadays are more of a purchase of a passing right to use and incredibly specific, closed set of tools. You don't get to define the tools, and you don't get to really own the tools. It's yet another example of the tradition of the games industry fucking over the customers, and the customers just going with it. Because of this, while Unreal got some free dunks on Twitter for this, I can assure you Epic is planning something equally terrible as Unity's PR faux pas, and it'll come into to play in about 3 years when everyone's just accepted that Unity sometimes financially screws you over.

But, game developers are indeed developers. They know software, and they can learn to make new software.

If you're a game dev and still reading this, I'd recommend taking a peek beyond the curtains of corporate cockfighting, into the realm of DIY game engines. It's a… somewhat janky world full of strange characters with unusual ideas on how much time it's acceptable to spend not working on a game, but it's also a place where you're not being sat on by fatcats.

Just as game engines have progressed in the past 20 years, so have libraries, middleware and resources for independents. Making your own engine isn't just picking up ANSI C and toiling for a year in software rendering hell. Open tools like Pygame, Monogame, LÖVE and Cocos2D (among many, many others) are far beyond just simple rendering libraries and border on being game engines sometimes. The difference is, these tools are open source, and they do not restrict you with what you can do with them.

There are several games you may have played made using these frameworks. Streets of Rage 4 (MonoGame), Celeste (MonoGame), Fez (XNA, aka. MonoGame), Miitomo (Cocos2D), Geometry Dash (Cocos2D)… I got tired of looking up more. There are a lot of games.

The future which I hope to see for game developers is one where you have a large assortment of simple tools you can pick. Level editors, asset converters, entity systems, all small chunks of a game engine you could drop into your own project to slowly build up your own collection of workflows to make games your own way, completely independent of any larger forces on the market.

The support for these frameworks is still somewhat barren compared to Unity, but I believe, that if more people jump to alternatives like this, more tools, tutorials and middleware built for them would start showing up. This is how Unity also got its start, about 15 years ago. You also really don't need all the power in the world to make your simple 2D Megaman clones. The fog created by the monolithic engines we have now have obscured just how simple the building blocks for your favourite games can really be.

It just takes some bravery and willingness to learn a new way to approach making games, but I think the outcome is worth it, even just for you.

#gamedev #game development #unity

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densesindealer · 7 months

Text

Neo World: Pacification Project, Chapter Two

Hello again! @thelewdpokemanik and I are back, more than pleased, to bring you another part of our story! We've really been having fun writing this and I hope we can keep our updates pretty evenly spaced.

As always you can still find this story on AO3 here.

So without further ado, we hope you all enjoy!

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Chapter Two: Devoted to Hope

This entire situation felt almost unreal, though bizarre as it was, it still wasn’t unbelievable for someone like him, unlike for his classmates. His life had been anything but ordinary. He could keep his calm in these kinds of situations. His classmates, on the other hand, yelled and fought, proclaiming their disbelief one moment and their despair the next. Afraid, angry, resigned…hopeless. All of it disgusted him, in truth. That damnable two-toned bear, his plan to have them all kill each other- It was repulsive. It wasn’t fostering hope, only a twisted malediction, Monokuma’s mad craving of despair.

Even though the black and white bear had managed to defeat their supposed protector, their field trip advisor, he still backed away after their encounter, letting the students stew in his words about their new lives. Though Nagito noted that the bear seemed to be backing down oddly, as though something about his encounter with Usami caused him to retreat even in supposed victory.

The yelling of his fellow classmates grew tiring, and he tuned most of them out. Their hopelessness made his skin crawl, but he supposed he understood. He didn’t quite ignore all of them though. Byakuya was the stand out, the exception. He took the time to space out his thoughts before he spoke, and when he did, his words carried weight.

It was a rousing speech if he was being honest, one above what Nagito expected when looking upon the faces of his classmates.

The affluent progeny preached of trust first and foremost, coming together because not doing so would be giving Monokuma exactly what he wanted. The bear sought to make them uneasy, distrusting, prime candidates to fall into the trap of committing a murder.

He wanted them to despair.

What truly stood out to him about Byakuya’s speech was what his mind usually focused itself on. The underlying sentiment of something greater, something to be cherished.

Hope.

It made him giddy to even think about. However small the flame may burn within the others, someone else besides himself knew the wonders hope could bring them. At the very least, he knew when it was needed, though if you asked Nagito, he would always say it was a necessity.

The rest of his speech barely landed on his ears, not that it truly needed to, just one small word, one small theme and his brain was running with it. Of course this was what was needed. Hope. It’s what this must have been made for, this killing game, this design for despair.

It was all made for one purpose, to bring out hope from the depths of despair.

He needed to thank Byakuya at some point, if not for him his thoughts would be amiss. He wouldn’t know how he could bring his classmates hope. Now? Well, now it was as simple as it could possibly be, just waiting for a golden opportunity. Oh yes, this would all be perfect. They’d all know of Hope and they’d understand his love for that glorious feeling.

Even if they needed to overcome immense despair to get there.

He was so lost in his own thoughts, he barely noticed when the others began to break away. The lucky student didn’t contribute to their conversations about the possibility of one of them being responsible for this. It didn’t matter who did it, they would deserve his thanks too, for an opportunity to show so many people, his betters in all ways that mattered, the joys of his beloved hope. That would be better than anything he could have ever dreamed of.

The chance to show those who were so much more deserving of their talents, of their ultimate titles what true hope felt like? The thought made him giddy. He couldn’t help himself, even if he’d wanted to. A small chuckle escaped his lips.

“Uh… You doing okay there?” Hajime stood in front of him, a wide-eyed look on his plain face.

Ah, the boy was nervous around him. He must have made for quite the sight.

“I’m fine, it’s just a lot to take in.” It wasn’t truly a lie. It was a lot to take in, this chance he had. One he intended to make the most of.

“Yeah, to think this would happen… It’s just… It doesn’t make any sense.” Hajime seemed more at ease speaking to him, strange for the quick suspicion from not even a minute before.

Nagito didn’t really care. Of all the students here, Hajime was the one he favored the least. He didn’t know his own talent, and Nagito would have doubted he had one if not for his admission into Hope’s Peak Academy. Still he supposed he was an Ultimate, so perhaps it was too harsh an assessment when compared to himself.

Hajime may not have remembered his talent, but whatever it was, it surely couldn’t have made the boy as useless as his own.

“Do… Do you think someone might really consider murder?” His concern was still evident, seeking comfort from the same person who’d been his crutch since they’d first arrived here.

“Of course not! You need to have faith in your classmates, Hajime!” Nagito answered quickly, the words rolling off his tongue with ease.

That was a particularly cruel lie, he supposed, but it was in that cruelty that he would hopefully find the strength to grow, and prove he was worthy of his title of Ultimate.

The boy wouldn’t understand if Nagito told him the truth anyway. There was no doubt someone was planning a murder. Hajime just so happened to be talking to them. The when, why and who still remained a mystery, even to him, but he knew it would come to him in time. After all, luck was on his side, as it always had been.

With Hajime reasonably cowed, his questions ceased, and thankfully he left to find the others. Ah, Nagito was alone now, well properly alone anyways. The Ultimates must have all spread out while he had been preoccupied.

That was good. It gave him time to think, to plan, to look around. He did need a foundation for a murder if he wanted any chance of showing them the treasure that was hope.

He wandered around the first island, the only one they had access to. The others were guarded by those threatening machines Monokuma called monobeasts. His options were rather limited by that, but it wasn’t necessarily a problem. He would simply have to use this adversity to help him come up with an even more despondent murder.

The lucky student was careful to avoid any prolonged interactions with many of the other students. They had better people to spend their time on than wasting it on him. That didn’t mean he didn’t keep an eye on them, however. It was important to learn enough about them to foster their hope as much as he could whilst he was around.

Not to mention he needed a target, someone that provided less than everyone else. The runt of the litter that would help the others grow stronger.

The Rocketpunch Market was filled to the brim with mostly useless items, a disappointment to be sure, but not a problem nonetheless. He needed tact, a mystery to his crime, the items in the supermarket would be more fit for a hands-on approach. How could they overcome their despair if the answer was right in front of them? There wouldn’t be a journey, no obstacles to overcome. That was where hope flourished, in the face of overwhelming odds. When no avenues seemed to lead to an answer, when the night seemed the darkest, only then would hope shine through!

He wondered idly if Monokuma already knew what he was planning, if he was watching him, thinking he’d already fallen into despair.

If he was, he’d sorely misunderstood the lucky student’s intent.

The next few locations he visited were somehow even less useful than the supermarket. The airport was empty of anything other than planes missing their engines, the ranch devoid of anything other than Gundham and the animals he had apparently taken a quick liking to.

At least the beach had something that caught his attention. Shaped like a coconut tree in its concept, but it was far from it. It was called the MonoMono Machine, clearly a machine full of prize capsules, with a slot for coins. It intrigued him, especially given his talent, but lacking anything to use with the machine it was merely something of interest to note.

“Well that’s not beary fair!” Monokuma cried out, jumping out from wherever it had been hiding, and already Nagito wished for this interaction to end.

“What do you want?” He could never sound this irritated with an Ultimate, but this monster focused on despair- It was everything Nagito hated in one bear-shaped package.

“Oh, only what any other bear would want. Violent deaths, supreme chaos, the loving embrace of sweet, sweet despair~” The bear’s voice was as sickeningly sweet as his first appearance only a few hours ago, but something seemed strange. A slight twitching of his ears, a dimming of his mechanical eye as he spoke that seemed almost involuntary. Was he malfunctioning?

“Though right now, I’m here to help! Be grateful for your teacher’s kindness, you brat!” Even with an offer of supposed aid, his voice still made Nagito’s insides twist in disgust.

Before he could even utter a word, Monokuma thrust out one of his paws, a handful of copper coins resting upon it.

“These, my dearest- well, not quite- lucky student, are Monocoins!”

“For the prize machine, then?” Nagito barely wished to speak more than he had to, at least not with this two-toned monstrosity.

“Not just any prize machine! It's the MonoMono Machine!” Monokuma insisted, making Nagito grimace, before carefully reaching out, and plucking the coins out of the bear’s hand.

Without a second thought, he wiped his hands on his pants, to cleanse them of any of the filth that may have tarnished them from Monokuma’s despair-laden paws.

Nagito held up a coin to his eye, turning it so it could catch the bright light of the moon, revealing the engraved visage of the despairful bear upon it. Truly hopeless. “So…”

“Soooooo, it’s the most amazing machine anyone could ever dream of! All you need to do is put in a few Monocoins, and anything you could ever hope for may be waiting for you in one of those pods!”

Nagito blinked despite himself. “Anything?”

“Yep, correctamundo! You hit the nail on the head! Anything at all!”

“Even-”

“Yes, even a way off this island, a one-way ticket to your own freedom!” Monokuma answered eagerly, completely missing what Nagito was actually about to ask, though from the eager glint in his mechanical eye…

Maybe the Mono-Mono Machine could actually give him something to help him plan a murder, and Monokuma understood more than he let on.

It didn’t matter, in truth. No matter what Monokuma thought, wanted, or planned.

Hope would win out in the end. Nagito was certain of it.

“I see.” He finally settled on, making Monokuma stomp his foot childishly.

“‘I see’? That’s it!? I give you a beary generous donation, a chance of escape and the only response I get is an ‘I see?’ You ungrateful little-”

Whatever tirade Monokuma decided to go on afterward fell on deaf ears, being tuned out in favor of not having to listen to him drone on. Instead, the lucky student shifted his attention to the MonoMono Machine. Even though he loathed accepting help from such a despair-fueled creature, Nagito deposited the few coins Monokuma had given him in the slot and spun the handle.

The machine lit up, and began playing obnoxiously loud music. It was far too much if you asked him. The lights were too bright, too garish and the music was almost as grating as Monokuma’s voice, which was fitting given it was named after him. A, thankfully, short few seconds passed before the slot at the bottom of the tree opened and out came a capsule. Then a second came soon after, he must have been luc- a third followed suit, and perhaps it only took a single coin to-

“Wowie! That’s super duper ultra mega rare right there! That’s the big jackpot, three prize pods for the price of one is the biggest prize you can get!” Monokuma was almost standing on top of him, his words reverberating in his ear. It was his luck then. Though, if it meant Monokuma getting so up-close and personal, perhaps it was bad luck rather than good.

Not that he should have been surprised. While he liked to think hope defined him well, his luck was a constant presence in his life too.

Once more ignoring the bear, much to its chagrin, he popped open a capsule, which made a surprisingly satisfying sound. Probably not enough to justify sitting through that light show again, but still-

Oh? “A can of glowing paint?” Nagito said out loud, pleasantly surprised. This was surprisingly practical. His earlier thought came back to him as he read the information on the metallic can. A ray of hope shining through the night, hm?

Well, if the first capsule was a success, he might as well check the other two. Two more pleasant pops, and two more capsules were opened, which contained a notebook and a pen respectively. Again, surprisingly practical. He flipped the notebook open, testing out the pen on the inside for a moment, and watched as it wrote neatly a few words, before pausing.

Nagito looked around him for a moment, dreading having to speak with it, but he needed at least some form of an answer to his question.

“How exactly, would one get more coins for this?” Monokuma gave him a devilish grin in response. Hm, odd to be able to use that word to describe the smile of a plushie-like bear.

“Upupupu, piqued your interest, did I? Well, it’s quite simple really, just bear with me here! They’re all over this place, I hid ‘em all over when all of you were busy with Monomi’s trashy romance plot!” A simple question, answered in such a drawn out manner… He was beginning to hate Monokuma for more than just his love of despair.

He hummed for a moment, contemplating his next choices, before deciding this was enough time with the monochrome animatronic. He looked over his shoulder, back toward Hotel Mirai, debating his options.

Well, he hadn’t gotten this far by ignoring his luck, had he? Maybe he could come back to the machine if need be. He just needed to find some of those coins laying about to use it again. Even if that meant dealing with the migraine-inducing lightshow and that god-awful racket that was supposed to pass as music.

For now, however, Nagito began making his way back to the Hotel, some basis of a plan forming in his mind, but it was still a work in progress. At least for now, he could grab something quick to fuel himself, and work out the other details as he ate in the safety of his room.

But, before he could reach his cottage, after passing a rather excitable Teruteru in the kitchen and Chiaki focused intensely on whatever game she was playing in the hotel lobby, his eye caught on something. A rather innocuous building. It wasn’t being used, and he remembered Monomi warding Hajime and himself away because it was in a state of disrepair. Maybe… Another piece of the puzzle was slowly coming together in his mind.

If he’d been warned away, it was likely everyone else had been as well. If he was lucky, nobody would think to walk into the old hotel building, and he’d be entirely free from prying eyes. If push came to shove, he would simply be able to say he was exploring the building because Monomi had made it seem so suspicious.

Glancing around as quickly as he could while staying discreet, he cracked open the door of the building and slipped inside, certain nobody was around to see him. Well, Monomi certainly had been correct about the building being dirty. The ground was covered in a thick layer of dust, and the ceilings were littered in cobwebs. Why have the building here in the first place if they would just let it wither away like this?

He let out a breath, noticing how even the air felt heavy to take in, but as he continued to trek onward and explore, a gracious smile crossed his face. He was thankful Monomi had seen fit to ward anyone who thought of entering this building away. It made his plan nearly perfect.

A location where nobody would have had the time to learn the layout? The warning itself was a decent safeguard now that everybody was on edge thanks to Monokuma’s announcement of this killing game. Of course, he had luck on his side. Maybe a few more trips to the MonoMono Machine once he’d managed to scrounge up what coins he could find and he would be all set to achieve his goal.

Though it may have been a bit too early for that.

Nagito knew he could always lure someone here to act as his stepping stone towards a larger goal and strike away from everyone else, but that would hardly do. He needed something bigger, something better. In the darkness of the old hotel, inspiration struck. What he needed was a party, or at the very least, the perception of one.

He already knew who would be trusted enough to be able to gather his classmates for him, and he’d already shown he sought to protect everyone else. Byakuya couldn’t be his target, but he would certainly be a great deal of help in bringing one to him. It was finally connecting, what needed to be done, and in the silence of the rundown halls, he let himself laugh. The path forward seemed so clear! This was exactly what he had to do.

Not for himself, but for his classmates, for their hope. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Walking away from Byakuya’s bungalow in the early hours of the morning, before anyone was liable to wake up, Nagito felt his plan was rather exceptional. The letter had been a nice touch, his luck from that garish machine paying off. Truthfully, his plan relied on quite a large amount of luck, though relying on that had never been a weak point of his.

There wasn’t much else he could do at the moment. The first dominoes were in place, and the rest couldn’t come until much later. Thus, he settled on the most logical option, creating a backup plan, just in case he had miscalculated in his initial approach. While the letter should work well enough to cause Byakuya to gather the rest of their class, there was no real guarantee anybody would care to listen. That would bring a whole host of problems to his initial plan if it occurred, so it was better to be safe than sorry.

He pat his pockets idly, just to make sure he hadn’t managed to misplace them. Monocoins. He’d found quite a large amount of them over the course of the night, so many that he doubted anybody else cared to look for them. Not that it mattered, it was actually quite fortunate that nobody would want to use the machine. It gave him better odds to find something that could prove useful.

Nagito opted to move silently, or at least as quietly as one could with an exorbitant amount of change bouncing around in their pockets. He didn’t particularly fear waking anyone, but should anyone else be up and about, he certainly wouldn’t want to gain their attention. He strolled down to the beach, and, having failed to run into anyone, it was likely they were all still fast asleep. Like this, he didn’t have to worry about the sounds of the MonoMono Machine attracting any attention.

He fished around in his pockets for a few moments, trying to take a few coins in hand, enough to spin the machine a few times. Had it always looked like this? It seemed, well, different, for lack of a better word. He reasoned that it was the work of the early morning light making it appear taller than before. It was unlikely that Monokuma would bother with changing the height of the machine when it didn’t serve any functional purpose, other than perhaps making whoever used it feel small and insignificant.

Well, now that he thought about it, that did seem to be a very Monokuma-esque thing to do.

Regardless of his thoughts on the matter, the machine seemed just as harmless as it had been the previous day. He could say he was hoping he would get lucky with his capsules, but when had he ever been anything but lucky? A few coins went into the slot, and he braced himself for what was undoubtedly the worst-

What?

Did…did it always sound like this? Those lights weren’t the same either, right? Was it Monokuma’s lingering presence that had made them so unbearable the last time he had used it?

He had no reasonable explanation for what was happening, Monokuma wouldn’t have changed all of this just because one person was put off by it. That didn’t even fit the despair-hungry bear’s entire motivation. That only left him begging the question of why, how it had changed, it was…almost pleasant now.

The lights, instead of being a garish mix of black, white and red, were now a significantly milder tone. Shades of pink were littered about in the lights, with the occasional contrast of a baby blue light to break up its monotony. He wouldn’t say it was the most gorgeous appearance the MonoMono Machine could have, but it was certainly an improvement from what it had been.

The music itself was surprisingly toned down as well, not nearly as loud, and certainly not as mind-numbing. Softer than expected, yet somehow it complimented the lights well enough that he couldn’t say he minded. At least his trip here wouldn’t be excruciating. This wasn’t a change the lucky student had expected, but it was certainly not unwelcome.

He was so focused on the changes to the machine he hardly noticed when his prize capsule fell from the slot, only catching on when the music stopped and the lights went out.

It wasn’t that important to wonder why it changed, he had a larger goal here.

Nagito swiftly reached out, grasping the capsule in his hands. He already felt his luck paying off and it wasn’t even opened yet. A single pop, was that different too? No, it sounded just as pleasant as it had before, so at least that hadn’t changed.

Though perhaps he shouldn’t have thought he was going to be lucky on his first attempt; this reward screamed useless, at least for the purpose of his goals. Out of the capsule, his hands grasped a singular earring, missing its other half. This couldn’t even be used well as a gift to a classmate.

He supposed it was fair that he would receive something he couldn’t make use of on his first spin of the day; he did, after all, earn three rewards that all proved to have a purpose in one go the previous day. Well, it wasn’t a problem, he had more than enough Monocoins to spare.

Another few coins went in the slot, another twist of the machine’s handle. Anticipation filled him, surely it would be better this time. As he waited, he couldn’t stop himself from observing the changes once more. They were actually pretty nice, if nothing else. The lights, the more he studied them, were soothing and the music was extremely calming. This was more akin to what he felt Monomi would have put on the islands rather than Monokuma.

He tried not to dwell on either, but the dulcet tones it provided were admittedly catchy and hard to ignore. They were a pleasant sound you’d have a hard time finding on the island.

Oh.

The machine’s reward had come out again and he hadn’t been paying attention. Why did he care so much if one of the animatronics had changed the machine’s appearance? It’s not like it was going to disrupt his chance to help his plan along.

He didn’t hesitate to reach out once more, and with another pop, still the most pleasant part of this process if you asked him, he had his reward in hand.

Another earring. How…invigorating.

It matched the first, so at least he had a proper pair now, and, he supposed of all possibilities, a pair of earrings someone else may like as a gift wasn’t the worst outcome. Perhaps it wasn’t bad luck, though he doubted he’d have the time to ever find who would wish to receive them. They weren’t simple, per se, they would hang down past the ears, and the insignia on them held no real meaning to him, but he supposed the hearts on them might be to someone else’s taste.

If anything, he was almost certain Ibuki would at least try them out. He knew she had enough piercings to at least test them out before tossing them. Sonia may take them too, if only because she would feel bad turning down a gift, likely not wanting to insult what was a new custom she didn’t understand. For now though, he stowed them away, feeling them land heavily in his empty pocket.

More coins, a third spin, his eyes following those lights, and that soft music drifting into his mind. He almost wished the music was a bit louder, he wanted to hear more of it. No complaints about the lights, they were perfectly bright and absolutely eye-catching.

They weren’t truly a problem as they were, chasing out any lingering thoughts about the earrings, and letting him focus on what was truly important.

Yes!

His capsule popped out, and he found himself more excited than he had for the previous two. Surely this one would be good, and even if it wasn’t, the way those prize pods popped was a delightful enough sound that it served as a reward of its own.

The lucky student deftly reached out for the pod, and didn’t pause for even a moment before he opened it. The pop of it made his brain tingle for just a moment, a smile gracing his face despite himself, and he eagerly looked toward his reward.

It wasn’t immediately obvious to him what this was. An unassuming, closed disc-like shape. Taking notice of the small clasp, he pressed whatever he had received open. What greeted him was the sight of a white haired boy, who’s gray eyes peered hazily back at him.

Ah, a compact mirror.

Nagito stared at his own reflection for a few moments longer, watching himself blink once, and then twice, before shaking his head and closing it. Well, it wasn’t completely useless like the, the- earrings, but he wasn’t exactly certain how he could use a compact mirror either, except for what he’d just done. Still, he carefully put the mirror away in a pocket of his coat, and turned his attention back toward the machine.

This one was going to be the one, he could feel it. This one was where his luck would start to turn around. Another handful of coins in the slot, a quick turn of the handle, and-

That delightful music immediately flooded his ears and drowned out the sounds of the waves crashing onto the shore of the beach. The machine once more lit up and drew in his attention, the soft shades of pink and the baby blue lights rotating around peacefully. They certainly did wonders to focus Nagito’s mind.

Yes! Yes! Yes!

His reward came out, and he couldn’t help the animated excitement that flooded his body. There wasn’t a motion wasted between the capsule coming out of the machine and his hands shooting out to collect it. The ever present pop of the prize pod made him let out a wistful sigh, it was definitely the most pleasurable part of this. He carefully dumped the contents of the capsule into his waiting hands.

At first he struggled to wrap his mind around what this was even supposed to be, yet it spoke to him more than either of the earrings did. He turned it over in his grip, noting the small metal chain dangling from one of its ends, and the buckle that allowed you to adjust it. It was almost like a small…um…belt? Yeah! Like a belt.

Ohhhh, it was a collar! How didn’t he notice right away!

He wanted to say it was useless…but…even if it was just a bit feminine, it did look really appealing, and he wanted to use at least one of his rewards. He’d earned them after all, so why shouldn’t he?

Carefully unbuckling his gift, he slipped it around his neck, making sure not to make it too tight and allowing it to rest comfortably on his skin. He opened up the mirror he’d received earlier to look himself over, and beamed. The deep black of the collar contrasted with his pale skin and white hair wonderfully. Though, he paused for a moment in his admiration of his new accessory. His adam's apple seemed almost imperceptible, was it even still there? No, that wouldn’t make sense, the collar must have just done a good job of hiding it.

He was overthinking it, probably just a trip of his perception, especially given he’d never worn a…no…hadn’t he always been…? Idly, he scratched at his chest, a frown pulling at his features as he tried to think about it, before shaking his worries away. Whatever, it didn’t really matter. The gorgeous collar was on and his concerns were quieted, leaving him free to focus on what really mattered.

Fifth time had to be the charm. That was the umm… the saying, right? It probably shouldn’t have been difficult to remember, but he found that it was a strain to think about. Well, he shouldn’t be focusing on something pointless like that anyway. Not when this wonderful machine was right in front of him!

He barely even thought about the act of slotting the coins, that wasn’t what he needed to focus on. It was what came after that always struck him more, that always grabbed his attention.

Oh…yes…that was it…

The music drifted to his ears, and he felt his entire body slump in relaxation. Those pesky thoughts from before faded away, and he felt more at ease than ever before. No worries, just the velvety tones of the machine, where all of his attention ought to-

No! That couldn’t be right! He couldn’t just focus on that, what the hell was he thinking!? There was no way he could just listen to those sounds as if it was all that mattered!

Not when those utterly astounding lights were there to accompany them! It would be unthinkable to give all his attention to the music when those pinks and blues were right there to remind him of their presence. They were begging to be looked at, and he couldn’t ignore their plea.

He wouldn’t even say he wanted to, why would he when they made such a…um…such a…

The words felt like they wouldn’t form through the thick cloud in his mind. He could barely remember what he’d even been getting at. Well if he’d forgotten, it probably wasn’t important. Not like the music, the lights, the-

Pop

He hadn’t even noticed he’d grab the prize capsule, but how could he even dream of ignoring that delicious sound. That fuzzy feeling that lit up in his brain, navigating the fog, all to reward him for opening it up, just for listening.

The items inside fell into his hands with a lively giggle, this wasn’t a bad reward at all. It was confusing at first, trying to focus on what he’d received, but it only took a few moments to realize what it was.

It’s…it’s um…one of those…make-up sets?

He’d seen girls use them before, but he wasn’t quite sure if that was what they were called. It was just a small bag of varied cosmetics, most of which he could confidently say weren’t familiar to him.

Delicately rummaging around in the bag, he tried to think of what use it could serve him. Worrying his lip in contemplation, he pulled out a tube of lipstick. It had very pretty deep jade coloring to it, and he had to admit that it was eye-catching. It wasn’t something he would use himself, but…

His mind drifted off for a moment, failing to actually come up with a conclusion to that line of thought, and his eyes briefly left the item in his hands to look back at the machine that had so generously donated this to him. It was a gift, wasn’t it? He couldn’t just give it away.

More than that, it was a reward he had earned. He couldn’t just throw away something he had worked so hard to gain. Not when it was the MonoMono Machine that had given it to him.

The warring thoughts quelled, Nagito knew what was needed. He twisted the bottom of the tube, cautious not to damage it with clumsy movements, lest he destroy his hard-earned gift. His nails clicked gently against the plastic as he did, making him blink for a moment. When was the last time he trimmed them? Well, they didn’t actually look so out of place, instead complimenting his delicate fingers. He had more important things to worry about anyway. He pressed the tube to his lips, ready to at least try it for himself and-

Heavenly.

It was the only word that he could think of that could even remotely begin to describe the sensation. The tube had only touched his lips for a moment but his body was immediately awash in abject delight. It felt extraordinary, mind-numbingly blissful, and he barely even recognized the fact he somehow knew how to put it on.

That was such a silly notion, it made it sound like he’d just learned the skill. How would he not know how to apply his makeup if he wore it every day?

He couldn’t help the giddy shaking of his fingers as he moved them back into the bag, eager to try the rest of his gifts. Simple black mascara that was no less appealing, deep jade eyeliner to match his lipstick which he applied in thick, curled wings that made his eyes pop.

Pop.

Wasn’t that such a delightful word to think of? It was almost enough to distract him from the last item in his cosmetics bag. A bottle of black nail polish, a change from the more facially targeted items from before. Not that he really cared about that, it was still an important part of his look.

With hands as dainty as his, he always needed a way to make them stand out. He was thankful that this was in his bag, part of his reward, because he really couldn’t remember what he had done with his other bottles. Or at least, that was probably the reason he hadn’t worn any this morning, right? He scratched at his chest for a moment before he applied the nail polish, no sense in ruining his work because he had an itch before his nails had dried.

With delicate strokes, he slowly painted his nails, and felt immediate relief in the wow factor he always longed for. The deep coloring of the black polish stood out just as he wanted when contrasting his pale skin. He blew on each of his nails for a moment, just to hopefully help his nails set, he certainly didn’t want their shine or beauty to fade.

His chest was getting irritated again, he really hated this shirt. The material always felt loose and everytime it brushed against his rather large chest he felt the urge to scratch at himself. Wait…was that…did that seem right? Were his…were his…his, like, uh… What were those again?

Nagito stared down at himself for a moment longer before shaking his head. Either way, his stupid shirt didn’t fit, and he hated it.

His coat wasn’t much better. The faded green wasn’t exactly a welcome color, and the material felt ratty and aged. Maybe he’d see if he could borrow something from another student. That could come later though, he had bigger concerns.

He’d spent so much time relishing in his reward that he had taken his attention away from the machine. That just wouldn’t do, not at all. Taking just a few moments to check over his nails to make sure they were properly dry, he reached a hand into his pocket to fish out more coins for the machines.

The lights came back, and he blinked dumbly up at them, they seemed almost…bri…bri…brighter now? They were just so pretty that it was hard to even think of what he had wanted to say. The only thing missing was the-

The music returned and an unrepentant squeal left his lips in his excitement to let it flood into his mind. It was…was…um…like louder now? God it was so hard to think of words when those pretty lights kept distracting him and that delicious music made his head go blissfully numb.

He couldn’t help but let a blissful moan escape his lips at the wonderful treatment from the music and lights. It made him feel feminine, and that made him giggle vapidly. Feminine was such a cute word, it made him feel all warm and fuzzy.

Hehe Yay!

This was her…his? Yeah…um…his right? Whatever, it was the best part! The caps…capsa…capsu…the little thingie that made that-

Uhhh…

The moan ended his train of thought as the pod made that wonderful pop that left his knees buckling. The experience was just so pleasurable that he couldn’t help himself from enjoying it. The pops always managed to seep into his brain, even through the blissful haze the music and lights always left for him, just to make sure he knew he was being rewarded.

My reward!

See! She…no…um…he knew the pops were the best part! They always brought him rewards, even if it was hard to remember that under the delight of the machine’s other features. Her…his…fingers reached out and grabbed the gift, a large pod for her, a bigger reward for him to enjoy!

God he could barely even see what he received, his unruly hair was getting in his eyes. While she’d never…he’d never minded that it cascaded down to the small of his back, even if it was an untamed mess of waves and curls, the fact it was in his face was so aggravating! He tried his best to part his hair as neatly as he could with most of it to one side. This was so much better! Now she could see properly and everybody could see his pretty makeup.

This must have been the most lucky gift yet! He’d just been complaining about how he needed to get some new clothes and the machine was rewarding her more than ever! Their colors were absolutely gorgeous, and they matched his makeup so well!

Carefully unfolding them, she sucked in a giddy breath and squealed! This hoodie was utterly perfect, it wasn’t as long as his old one and it was the same color as his lipstick! It would make his collar pop, she just knew it! What really caught his attention was the design on the right side of it. It was a gorgeous maroon vine that stood out against the green of the rest of the hoodie.

The vine started on the sleeve, where her bicep would be when he put it on, and looped over the shoulder down towards the center where the zipper line was. He just wanted to put it on right away but he couldn’t! Not when he hadn’t even checked his other gift yet!

At first it seemed so simple, just a normal white shirt, but oh, how wrong he was for thinking that. Turning it around a soft gasp slid past her lips, how could she have called this simple? It matched his sweater down to the design, the vine coming from its right side to land over its left side. His eyes couldn’t help but trace the vine, watching every curl and loop until it came to a stop forming a delightfully elegant heart.

His breath hitched as she finally saw the words, in stylized calligraphy, lodged inside of the heart.

‘Good Girl’

The words bounced around in his mind. His mind? Why did that feel so wrong…he…wasn’t he a…? Was he? The notion felt so wrong, so heavy. Holding on to the thought was a strain. It didn’t make sense and it left him feeling dizzy. Why would the shirt have something like this written on it?

‘Good Girl’

Her eyes had drifted back down to the writing in a daze. Why would the shirt have something like this written on it? The answer felt so obvious now. Just like the fuzzy-feeling pops, it was to remind her of the important things.

Not the silly notion of being a boy, those kinds of thoughts made her dizzy. The words were just helping her remember that she didn’t need to be thinking such stupid things. Reminding her of what mattered, the truth, what she was and always had been.

‘Good Girl’

The words were in front of her eyes again and she giggled vapidly. That was right, a good girl, that’s what she was. That was what she was meant to be, not some stupid boy, just a perfectly good girl. The realization made her giddy and her body tingle, her legs shaking at the thought.

If thinking of what she was, felt this good, how would it feel if she said it? If she announced to the world that she finally realized that she was meant to be a good girl? She had to try it, just once for her own curiosity.

“Good girl.”

The words rolled off her tongue, leaving a heady taste behind them as they did, and her eyes fluttered, a jolt in her lower belly shooting up into her brain and making her gasp.

“I’m- I’m a good girl.” She repeated, and the words were like a thunderbolt, shooting through her. Her legs shook for a moment, weakened for a brief beat of ecstasy that Nagito wished would last so much longer.

Thankfully, she knew exactly how to make it so.

“I’m a good girl~” She repeated again, and whined high in her throat as she did, her eyes screwing shut as her brain lit up like a christmas tree, before dimming further than before. Her heart was beating like mad in her chest, as if trying to break out of its cage through her ribs, and her hand came to rest on it for a moment, only to find a hardened nipple beneath her fingers.

Instinctually, she pinched it, and gasped. Another jolt of pleasure shocked her brain, but she wasn’t satisfied with just this.

“I’m a good girl!” She cried, her hand groping her heaving tit, and her legs collapsed underneath her, though she barely noticed. No, her mind was already chasing the next hit.

“I’m a good girl! I’m a good girl~” She moaned, her free hand pulling at the hem of her pants, almost ripping the button off as she did. She needed to feel even more pleasure. She needed to jack-

Her fingers found her moistened slit, and she moaned as they easily dipped inside. Her earlier thought melted away in pleasure.

“I’m a good girl!” She cried, again and again on the beach, mauling one of her tits and fingering herself desperately, but it was as if there was a ceiling to her pleasure, a cap she just couldn’t breach through no matter how loudly she cried, or how wet she got.

So unfair! Unjust! Nagito was being a good girl, she deserved to cum! She whined, her back arching as she lifted her shirt to grab at her tit directly, only to freeze as her eyes landed on the chain resting there.

The chain leading up to her collar.

Shakily, Nagito grabbed hold of it, the metal feeling cold, and oh-so-strong between her weak fingers. She pulled at it lightly, and her brain melted as she felt her collar being tugged.

Her pleasure-drunk brain tried to make sense of it all. The collar, the makeup, the shirt-

Nagito’s masturbation redoubled in effort as she panted, her eyes staring out into nothing, or perhaps something only she could see.

None of it was for her.

No, those weren’t gifts for her.

She moaned aloud as she pulled at her chain again, letting herself crash into the sand without resistance.

No, those were all for someone else.

Someone to use her.

Someone to own her.

She was a gift for them.

She couldn’t just be a good girl on her own. No, she was someone’s good girl~

Nagito’s eyes rolled for a moment as her fingers flicked at her clit.

“I-I’m a good girl for my master!” She cried in ecstasy, the revelation so profound it wasn’t even washed away by the tidal wave of pleasure that lay waste to everything else in her mind as she came, almost violently.

Her back arched as she loudly announced her pleasure, her loyalty to her master, her discovery of her true place in life-

When she came down from the high of her pleasure, panting and out of breath, she took a moment to try and collect her thoughts, fleeting as they were. Her thighs were soaked in her own juices, and her pants were practically useless now, not that she minded the loss all that much.

With a gasp she lurched forward. She’d nearly forgotten about her gift from her master! She’d be so lost in her own world of pleasure that she’d forgotten to put on the outfit he’d prepared for her.

Nagito hurriedly collected the clothes she had so thoughtlessly dropped in her pursuit of pleasure and rushed to replace the disgusting garments she was wearing. She only took a moment to wistfully sigh at the symbol on her shirt before draping over herself. It fit perfectly, as expected, clinging to the curves of her chest, leaving enough cleavage in view to let her master know she was always available. It cut off at her midriff, leaving a tantalizing portion of her pale skin visible, just to entice him further. She could almost feel her master’s words through the ink, branding her bare skin. It felt incredible~

The hoodie slipped on with ease, and was as comfortable as she could have dreamed it would be. Of course it was, her master wouldn’t have given it to her otherwise. It hung just to the hem of her pants, which would work well if she ever wished to put herself on display, it wouldn’t cover her from view.

Though thinking back to her pants, she realized they didn’t fit with the rest of her outfit at all, and she was almost thankful they were ruined. Now at least, she’d have the chance to find something prettier to dress herself in, something that would compliment her outfit and make sure her master knew she was a good slutty girl for him~

Maybe the Rocketpunch Market would have some, or something she could borrow from one of the other girls? She didn’t know where she was going to find-

Oh…she was so stupid! The answer was right in front of her.

She let out an airheaded giggle as her eyes traced the machine that started all of this. How had she ever forgotten it, her master must have put it here just for her to use it. No wonder nobody else ever collected any of those coins, they were obviously for her.

Knowing her master had never steered her wrong, she collected the last of her coins from her discarded pants’ pocket, enough for one last spin of the machine, and trusted her luck. No…her silly talent didn’t matter, she trusted her master to reward her. Good girls got the best rewards, and she’d been getting them all.

The machine lit up, its familiar colors a welcome sight, and the rhythmic music returned. She couldn’t help but hum along to its catchy tune as she tapped her fingers against her bare thighs, patiently waiting for her master’s choice. After a few moments, the slot opened and out came the last capsule she could afford.

She carefully opened the capsule and-

Pop!

She moaned whorishly at the sound, her brain going fuzzy, and she felt the urge to show herself off. Her master was asking…no, demanding she do so with the sound. She resisted the urge despite herself, her master wasn’t here right now, it was just reminding her of her place, what she would need to do in the future.

Nagito shook away the pleasurable feeling, even though she wished she could live in its bliss for the rest of her life. She carefully took out the items from the capsule, and sighed happily. Her master didn’t let her down, she knew he wouldn’t.

Her hands grasped at the items carefully, she couldn’t damage a reward from her master, a good girl treated his gifts with respect and love. A pair of lacy jade panties were the first thing she took note of, matching her sweater and her makeup. Not that it mattered much when it came to her sweater; she’d only want to be seen in them when the hoodie, not to mention the rest of her clothes were off, and preferably for her master’s pleasure.

A simple pair of black thigh highs were next, followed by a short black skirt that looked like it would barely go past the pair of panties she had received. Finally a pair of black mary janes to replace her shoes. This was the perfect way to complete her look and she relished in the rewards.

She took a moment to peek around her surroundings to make sure nobody was around to see her. She quickly took off her shoes, stripped off her bottoms and those garish boxers she had been wearing, dropping them in a pile before sliding on the panties and her new skirt as quickly as she could without damaging them.

Once more she checked around her and let out a sigh of relief when it was evident nobody was nearby. She didn’t want to go around letting anybody see her like that, no that was a sight for her master’s eyes only. Finally she slid her new thigh highs up her legs, savoring the way they felt as she did, and then slid on her shoes.

Nagito paused then, taking a moment to appreciate the feel of her new clothes on her body. She finally felt complete, felt that everything was just as it should be. She knew her place, and she finally reflected that for everyone else to see. More importantly, for her master to appreciate. She reflected who she was deep in her soul, the perfect appearance for a good girl like her.

The thought still made her sigh in pleasure, and she felt a familiar urge building up the more she repeated the words. Now though, she was free to seek that feeling whenever, and wherever she wanted, until her master came for her.

With that thought happily lodged in the forefront of her mind, she scooped up her previous clothing, if only to prevent the rule about littering from making a fuss, and collected her empty capsules with them. Humming a familiar melody to herself, she made her way back to her room, sparing the machine that her master had made for her one last glance.

Everything was as it should have been.

No more thoughts about…whatever it was she had been doing yesterday.

No more worries, no more stress, no more planning.

Well, maybe a little planning…after all those capsules gave her a really good idea when she thought about their sound, and they could be a reward in their own way.

She stepped into her room and let out a happy sigh. Good girls deserved rewards, and she had a lot of time to thoroughly reward herself.

Pop! ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ It was with her fingers buried deep in her core that the doorbell to her cottage rang. She let out an aggravated groan. She’d been so close and someone just had to come and ruin it! Huffing to herself and wiping off her fingers, she stood up, just in time for the doorbell to ring again.

She heard it the first time, and now it was even more annoying. Swinging open the door she was greeted by the sight of Hajime at her doorstep, his finger primed to press the bell again.

He didn’t say anything, just stared at her, and she realized she must have looked quite the sight. Her clothes were ruffled and her hair was more wild than usual, her skin had an unusual shine to it, coated in sweat. How long had she been lost in the throes of her own pleasure? Did she miss the morning announcement?

“S…sorry I didn’t mean to wake you.” Really? He finally mustered up the courage to speak and he thought she’d been asleep?

“What did you need?” She tried her best to keep any venom from her tongue and his interruption, not like he could have known what she was doing before he’d arrived.

He went silent again, and his eyes carefully raked over her form. Her face quickly twisted up in disgust as she traced his eyes to her bust.

“Hey! Someone like you doesn’t have the right to check me out!” The disdain must have been evident in her words because his eyes quickly shot back to hers.

“Sorry…Byakuya wanted all of us to get together, guess he needed to say something.” He wisely chose to address his original reason for coming instead of trying to defend his misstep.

“Sure, I’ll be there in a bit, let me just fix up my makeup.” The lucky student didn’t give the boy a chance to respond before she shut the door on him, preventing his roaming eyes from seeing any more of her.

She needed a moment to calm herself once she had closed the entrance to her cottage. Who the hell did he think he was, staring at her like that! She didn’t look like this for him to appreciate, this was all for her master. Someone like Hajime would never understand that he paled in comparison.

Nagito stopped her train of thought before it could go any further, and took a deep breath. It seemed her earlier act would have to wait until later to be resumed, so she made her way towards her room’s dresser, fetching her cosmetic bag. She drew her compact mirror from her pocket and began to touch up her makeup. She needed to look her best.

She knew her master was watching, somewhere, at least she had hope that he could see her, even now.

When she was certain her appearance was the best she could possibly make it, she once more opened the door to her cottage and stepped out to make her way towards Hotel Mirai.

The lucky student hoped Byakuya’s message would be quick. This was all such a hassle, but she doubted there was any avoiding it. Though she did wonder what he wanted with all of them, she had better, more pleasurable things to be doing. She would just have to go and see, and then she could get back to doing something worthwhile.

Dreaming of her master, and being a good girl for him. That was her purpose, after all.

#danganronpa18 #makoto naegi18 #nagito komaeda18 #thelewdpokemanik

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touchstoneaf · 1 year

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Unreal Unearth, Is It Ineffable? (And if so, how much does it apply to the Ineffable Husbands?)

What follows is an incredibly painful lyric-journey through "Unreal Unearth" as it might apply to the Ineffable Divorce. ie, deconstructing / extrapolating some Hozier lyrics through the lens of Aziracrow; a project.

“De Selby (Part 1)"

At last, when all of the world is asleep, you take in the blackness of air. The likes of a darkness so deep that God at the start couldn’t bear… (Crowley alone sans Aziraphale, as compared to after the Fall.)

and sit unseen, with only the inner upheld. Your reflection can’t offer a word to the bliss of not knowing yourself, with all the mirroring gone from the world. (He’s literally lost his mirror.)

But still the mind, rejecting this new empty space, fills it with something or someone. (Wondering, did he fill that emptiness with Zira, and now there’s nothing left?)

No closer could I be to God… or why he would do what he’s done. (Self-explanatory, on both counts.)

(Translated from the Irish) Although you’re light / bright /free, you come to me like night, upset. Through each other, we are transformed together. The transformation is an art, it’s a dark art. (Definitely them to one another; hidden from the light, transformative.)

Verdict: somewhat Ineffable.

"De Selby (Part 2)"

What you're given, what you live in; darling, it finds a way to live in you. And your heart, love, has such darkness. I feel it in the corners of the room. If I was any closer, after the gloom… (Zira looking down from Heaven on Crowley, falling apart in the bookshop)

If could only lose me… I wanna lose me. If I fade away, I wanna fade away with you. (Zira wanting to be back with him.)

If I was any closer, I could only lose me. I could be lost. If I fade away… Let me fade away. No more than I was, or than I want to be, when you fall on me like night, every time… And I want to be so far from sight and mind. (Crowley, lost and alone in the bookshop.)

I wanna kill the lights. I wanna run against the world that's turning. I'd move so fast that I'd outpace the dawn. I want to be gone. I wanna run so far, I'd beat the morning, before the dawn has come. (Both, wanting to just run away from all of this, together.)

I'd block the sun if you want it done. Let all time slow, let all light go. I don't need to know where we begin and end. I'd still know you. (Crowley, ready to stop time, do anything to have Zira back.)

Not being shown you… I only need the working of my hands. If I was any closer… Do you understand? I could only lose me… I wanna lose me. (Zira determined to fix it all to get him back).

If I fade away (let me fade away)… I wanna fade away with you. If I was any closer, I could only lose me. I could be lost. If I fade away, let me fade away… (Crowley, alone.)

No more than I was or than I want to be when you fall on me like night. I wanna kill the lights. I wanna run against the world that's turning. I'd move so fast that I'd outpace the dawn. I wanna be gone. I wanna run so far, I'd beat the morning, before the dawn has come. (Both, wanting to be back together.)

I'd block the sun, if you want it done. If I was any closer, I could only lose me. If I fade away, let me fade away. (Crowley, mixed feelings.)

Verdict: somewhat Ineffable.

"First Time"

Remember once I told you about how before I heard it from your mouth, my name would always hit my ears as such an awful sound… And the soul, if that's what you'd call it, uneasy ally of the body… It felt nameless as a river undiscovered underground. (Crowley, as Crawly, obviously, and possibly Zira as well, hearing Crowley speak his name.)

And the first time that you kissed me, I drank dry the river Lethe. (forgetfulness of everything that went before). The Liffey would have been softer on my stomach all the same. (Earthly water—aka us—might not have been as painful)

But you spoke some quick new music, that went so far to soothe this soul. As it was, and ever shall be. (Zira, changing Crowley with every softly-uttered word, telling him he is worthy of love, Fallen or no.)

Unearth without a name; some part of me must have died the first time that you called me 'baby'. And some part of me came alive the first time that you called me 'baby'. (Crowley under new name, but also, substitute “Angel”, and this is obvious af.)

These days I think I owe my life to flowers that were left here by my mother. Ain't that like them? Gifting life to you again. This life lived mostly underground, unknowing either sight nor sound, till, reaching up for sunlight… just to be ripped out by the stem. Sensing only now it's dying, drying out, then drowning blindly; blooming forth its every colour in the moments it has left. (Zira talking about how Crowley became somehow infinitely more beautiful once Fallen… but what has he lost?)

To share the space with simple living things; infinitely suffering, but fighting off, like all creation, the absence of itself. (Crowley, raging about having Fallen, mirroring himself on the plants.)

Anyway, some part of me must have died each time that you called me 'baby'. And some part of me stayed alive each time that you called me ‘baby’. (Substitute name/Angel. Identity, together, identity on Earth, etc.)

C'mere. Whatever keeps you around, it keeps you around (both)

The last time it was heard out loud… The perfect genius of our hands and mouths were shocked to resignation, as the arguing declined. (the kiss, obvs)

When I was young I used to guess; are there limits to any emptiness? (Crowley, alone, after)

When was the last time? C'mere to me, when was the last time? (Zira, after.)

Some part of me must have died, the final time you called me 'baby'. But some part of me came alive, the final time you called me 'baby'. (learning how to be apart, how to be their better selves, so that when and if they come together again, they’ll be better at it. Painful now, but maybe a tiny bit hopeful, too?)

Verdict: way too damn Ineffable, dammit.

"Francesca"

Do you think I'd give up? That this might've shook the love from me? Or that I was on the brink? How could you think, darling, I'd scare so easily? (Zira, looking down after the kiss.)

Now that it's done, there's not one thing that I would change. My life was a storm, since I was born. How could I fear any hurricane? (Crowley, living on without him, defiant and unbowed.)

If someone asked me at the end, I'll tell them put me back in it! Darling, I would do it again! If I could hold you for a minute, darling, I'd go through it again! I would still be surprised I could find you, darling, in any life. If I could hold you for a minute, darling, I would do it again. (obvious af, for both)

For all that was said, of where we'd end up at the end of it… When the heart would cease; ours never knew peace. What good would it be on the far side of things? (looking back, both)

It was too soon, when that part of you was ripped away; a grip taking hold, like a cancer that grows. Each piece of your body that it takes. Though I know my heart would break… (both thinking they could have done it differently; would they feel like they were dying piece by piece?)

I'll tell them put me back in it. Darling, I would do it again! If I could hold you for a minute, darling, I'd go through it again! I would still be surprised I could find you, darling, in any life. If I could hold you for a minute; darling, I would do it again. (both)

I would not change it each time. Heaven is not fit to house a love like you and I. (As the fandom knows, this line TOTALLY CLINCHES IT. Heaven isn’t. They make their own!!! And so they will survive this and come back together, here. They’ll fight for it.)

Verdict: INCREDIBLY Ineffable.

"I, Carrion (Icarian)"

(There’s just, like, whole reams of meta just in the dual title, here; about being dead, falling apart, remains only… plus Falling, but from each other this time…)

If the wind turns, if I hit a squall, allow the ground to find its brutal way to me… (honestly, both; Zira from heaven, Crowley just, in general)

I feel lighter than I have in so much time. I’ve crossed the border-line of weightless. One deep breath out from the sky… I’ve reached a rarer height now that I can confirm, all our weight is just a burden offered to us by the world. (Zira ready to drop his remaining religious trauma/dogma, ready to realize that what they have is worth more than heaven can offer.)

And though I burn, how could I fall, when I am lifted up by every word you say to me? If anything could fall at all, it’s the world that falls away from me. (both)

You have me floating like a feather on the sea, while you’re as heavy as the world that you hold your hands beneath. Once I wondered what was holding up the ground, but I can see that all along, love, it was you all the way down. (Crowley, looking up toward heaven-bound Zira.)

Leave it now, I am sky-bound. If you need to, darling, lean your weight to me. (Zira en route to heaven)

We'll float away... but if we fall, I only pray, don't fall away from me. (If this doesn't work, don’t leave me)

I do not have wings, love. I never will. (I can't follow you there, it's no longer my place)

Soaring over a world you are carrying. (Fighting for the world up there)

If these heights should bring my fall, let me be your own. (If I fall at least I can be with you)

If the wind turns, if I hit a squall, allow the ground to find its brutal way to me... if I should fall on that day... (if i was wrong...)

If I should fall on that day, I only pray... don't fall away from me. (Both, yearning.)

Verdict: definitely Ineffable.

"Eat Your Young"

A protest song in the tradition of “Hunger Strike” by Temple of the Dog (RIP Chris Cornell), and “Susquehanna” by LIVE. Could be interpreted as the part of the journey where they help us here on Earth to fix the problems, etc, but…

Verdict: Not Ineffable, but still incredible.

"Damage Gets Done" (with Brandi Carlile)

Without shame, two outfits then to my name. You'd end up in one when you'd stay. We had nowhere to go and every desire for goin' there. (them here on Earth for 6000 years, hopeful and happy just to be together. The outfits line, esp. They really don’t change clothes all that much; esp Zira, lol)

I heard once, it’s the comforts that make us numb. We’d go out with no way to get home, and we’d sleep on somebody’s floor, and wake up feeling like a millionaire. (Crowley in those short four years, living as much as possible at the bookshop, trying not to think about how it could all fall apart at any moment.)

Wish I'd known it was just our turn. We just got by. Being blamed for a world we had no power in, but we tried. You and I had nothing to show. We didn’t know. (looking back now it’s all fallen apart; no control over their own happiness, the constant underlying existential fear…)

But the best of the world in the palm of our hands. Anything, darling. And darling, I haven't felt it since then. I don't know how the feeling ended; but I know being reckless and young is not how the damage gets done. (yeah, them being together and in love was NOT the problem, and they’ll do anything to get it back. Zira, esp. in this part; fighting hard up there to make it safe for them to be together, finally.)

One time, we would want for nothin. One time we had it all, love. We knew what our love was worth when we had nothing. Now we're always missing something. I miss when we did not need much. (Crowley, when all he needed was to be near Aziraphale)

If the car ran, the car was enough. If the sun shone on us, it's a plus; and the tank was always filled up. Only enough for our getting there. (obvious Bentley stuff, here! Just them together, going places, going nowhere, as long as they were together.)

That first car was like wings on an angel, before the whole wide world got too thin. I swear, goodwill kept up the engine. You were steering my heart like a wheel in your hands. (obvs Zira in the Bentley with Crowley, just happy to be together; a la 1941 date-night.)

You flew away from me then. Turn back, darling. (Crowley, obvs)

And darling, I haven't felt it since then. I don't know how the feeling ended, but I know being reckless and young is not how the damage gets done. (recommitment to coming back together.)

All I needed was someone, when the whole wide world felt young. (nostalgia for when it was oddly easier, even though things were still scary and complicated, just because at least they were together.)

Verdict: somewhat Ineffable, very deeply nostalgic.

"Who We Are"

You only feel it when it's lost. Getting through still has a cost. Quietly, it slips through your fingers, love; falling from you drop by drop. (Both, maybe more Zira?)

What I had left here… I just held it tight, so someone with your eyes might come in time, to hold me like water… Or, Christ, hold me like a knife. (Crowley, wondering even if Zira comes back would he even be the same person? Or just the archangel?)

We're born at night. So much of our lives is just carving through the dark, to get so far. And the hardest part… is who we are. It's who we are. (Both, obviously pondering if they are impossible just because of what they are.)

You and I burned out our steam, chasing someone else's dream. How can something be so much heavier, but so much less than what it seems? Darling, we sacrificed. We gave our time to something undefined. This phantom life sharpens like an image… but it sharpens like a knife. (both, thinking about how other people have been in control of them for too long, how much they had to give up to try to keep it, while not daring to define it. Now they’ve defined it, it’s cutting them to pieces.)

And the hardest part... is who we are. That's who we are. You only feel it when it's lost. Getting through still has its cost. Quietly, it slips through your fingers, love; fallin' from you drop by drop. (obvious af and incredibly hurtful)

Verdict: painfully Ineffable.

"Son of Nyx"

Instrumental, with wailing, distorted lyrics including sobbing, gut-wrenching keening, loss, melancholy, beauty, and: “See how it shines…” & “Darlin’…” & “Before our chance was gone…” (and possibly some stuff cribbed from Pink Floyd’s “The Great Gig In The Sky”)

Verdict: could be Ineffable if you want it to be.

“All Things End"

A two-tonne weight around my chest feels like it just dropped a twenty-storey height. If there was anyone to ever get through this life with their heart still intact, they didn't do it right. (both)

The last time I felt your weight on my chest, you said, "We didn't get it right but, love, we did our best." (this one really hurts, dammit)

And we will again; moving on in time and taking more from everything that ends; and all things end. All that we intend… is scrawled in sand… or slips right through our hands. And just knowing that everything will end should not change our plans, when we begin again. (painful, but also bittersweet, and hopeful?)

I have never known a silence like the one fallen here. Never watched my future darken in a single tear. (exactly)

I know we want this to go easy by being somebody's fault, but we've gone long enough to know this isn't what we want. (definitely both had some part in that last fifteen minutes!)

And that isn't always bad. When people say that something is forever… Either way, it ends; and all things end. (“Oh, Crowley, nothing lasts forever…” But, that only makes room for something new and better to grow in its place! (hopefully w/ better communication, lol))

All that we intend… is scrawled in sand, or slips right through our hands. And just knowing that everything will end should not change our plans, when we begin again. Knowing we can always start again, knowing we have another day… Should not change our plans, when we begin again. (If they want this, they have to seize it with both hands and make it work, make the next day happen!!!)

Verdict: Utterly Ineffable, why are you doing this to us, Andrew?!

"To Someone from a Warm Climate (Uiscefhuaraithe)"

A joy, hard learned in winter was the warming of the bed. You'd shake for minutes there and move your legs. Wrap the blanket over you and keep your head within. Let your breath heat the air until you'd feel it getting thin. (translation) Water-sounding… (looking back from a future spent together… when the sound of your breathing and your heartbeat echoes in your ears, and being together and warm is everything… especially looking forward from a time when everything seems cold)

The feel of coldness only water brings… There are some things that no one teaches you, love, that come natural as a dream you didn't know that you were in. (this is all very hopeful of a future spent together in the South Downs!)

And darling, all my dreaming is only put to shame. And darling, all my dreaming has only been given a name. (we can only hope)

But it came easy, darling; as natural as another leg around you in the bed frame. (and it will, once we get there!)

In summer's heat, I learned to dread the coming of the night, the awful things we do to make the head go quiet. (being without each other…)

…There are some things that no-one teaches you, love, that God in his awful wisdom first programs in. (this is all part of the ineffable plan!)

…And I wish I could say that the river of my arms have found the ocean. I wish I could say the cold lake water of my heart; Christ, it's boiling over. But it happened easy, darling; natural as another leg around you in the bed frame. (them falling apart happened way too easily, they both wish they could say it wasn’t like this right now.)

Verdict: Ineffable, cruel shit here.

“Butchered Tongue"

A song all about how Colonial England tried to destroy the Irish language and nearly succeeded.

Verdict: not Ineffable, but tragic and still capable of destroying one’s heart.

“Anything But"

Come here to me. I wish I was a mayfly on the river Tay (a mayfly only lives for one day, but it’s a beautiful day full of life)

I'd fit all my joys and my pleasures in one perfect day. I wish I was the sunlight just sitting on The Mississippi… (lasting forever, trying to fit it all into what little time they might have…)

I'd settle for a shopping trolley in The Liffey (I'd trade heaven and hell, all the faraway, for a simple life on Earth together).

In a shot I'd swap my body for a body of water. Worry the cliff side top as a wave crashing over. I'd lower the world in a flood; or better yet, I'd cause a drought. If I was a rip tide, I wouldn't take you out. (a lot of metaphor in here… the water can destroy the shore, but the shore without the water, or vice-versa, is endless and undefined… The land is dry and lifeless. And both are lonely. We need our opposites to give us meaning.)

I don't wanna be anything; but I would do anything just to run away. I don't wanna be anything like this at all… but I would do anything if you'd hear me say, “Oh, yeah, hey, go look another way.” (Crowley, wanting to be with Zira, anywhere; Alpha Centauri, please just look at me and not Heaven! Let us make our own, here!)

Look, I wanna be loud; so loud, I'm talking seismic. I wanna be soft as a single stone in a rainstick. I wanna be the thunder of a hundred thousand hooves moving quick. If I was a stampede, you wouldn't get a kick. I wanna be the shadow when my bright future's behind me. I wanna be the last thing anybody ever sees. (you could take a million things from these metaphors!)

I hear he touches your hand, and then you fly away together. If I had his job, you would live forever. (obviously, if I was your forever, that would be enough, I want us to run away together instead… I want you to be the you you were with me, not this other guy you’ve turned into…)

(Chorus again, ibid)

Verdict: mildly Ineffable.

"Abstract (Psychopomp)"

(first just let me freak tf out that someone is writing actually popular songs who can not only reference the Allegory of the Cave (Plato), but also (ALSO!) knows the meaning of the word “psychopomp” (ie the god or archetype who escorts the dead across the Styx to Hades, with all it means to be that compassionate escort amid the transition from one state to another; from living to death... and *especially* with how Hozier represents the dying of parts of oneself in order to fit into/exit relationships!!!!)

Ok:

Sometimes it returns, like rain that you slept through. (the memories we can't escape, assaulting us despite our best efforts, to torture us... like there was never a love (because these two and rainstorms))

The worst of the world; the streets looking brand new. I will not be great, but I'm grateful to get through. The feeling came late, I'm still glad I met you. The memory hurts, but does me no harm. Your hand in my pocket, to keep us both warm. (Coming to terms with what was lost)

The poor thing in the road its eye still glistening. The cold wet of your nose; the Earth from a distance. See how it shines! (the unbearable beauty of breaking up, and of looking back on what you had, and lost, and what has died.)

Sometimes there's a thought, like you choose what you're doing. But it comes to naught when I look back through it. (they tried to choose each other, but couldn’t make it stick, too much outside of them made them do something else.)

I remember the view, streetlights in the dark blue… The moment I knew I'd no choice but to love you. (1941, obviously Zira here)

The speed that you moved, the screech of the cars… The creature still moving, that slowed in your arms. The fear in its eyes, gone out in an instant. Your tear caught the light; the Earth from a distance. See how it shines! (the speed was too fast, something died, and now I’m here, lookingdown from so far away (also Zira, obvs))

Darling, there's a part of me I'm afraid will always be trapped within an abstract from a moment of my life. The weeds up through the concrete, the traffic picking up speed. All my love and terror balanced there between those eyes… See how it shines!

(The kiss, obviously, and the desperate hope that there will be more after this broken moment)

Verdict: Ineffable, painful shit, here.

"Unknown / Nth"

You know, the distance never made a difference to me. I swam a lake of fire; I’d have walked across the floor of any sea… (Crowley, obviously. None of it mattered; what they were, none of it. He just wanted to be with Aziraphale)

ignored the vastness between all that can be seen, and all that we believe. So, I thought you were like an angel to me. (this hurts so much, him questioning what they were to each other after that damn kiss!)

Funny how true colours shine in darkness and in secrecy. (they had to be themselves, the best of Us, when they lied and hid it. The contrast of that, compared to the blinding truth of saying it out loud)

If there were scarlet flags, they washed out in the mind of me. (this one REALLY HURTS)

Where a blinding light shone on you every night, and either side of my sleep… Where you were held frozen like an angel to me. (in that one moment they carved out for themselves, here…)

It ain't the being alone. It ain't the empty home, baby. You know I'm good on my own. Baby, you know… it’s more the being unknown. So much of the living, love, is the being unknown. (him lamenting, feeling like Zira never really knew or understood him. OUCH)

You called me angel for the first time; my heart leapt from me. You smile now, I can see its pieces still stuck in your teeth. And what’s left of it, I listen to it tick; every tedious beat. (Zira looking back on what he had with Crowley, and on the last fifteen minutes… and now, how everything is just meaningless, without him)

Going unknown as any angel to me. (both; Zira because he realizes he has nothing in common with the others, and Crowley thinking, was he always just one of them, to me, really? I thought he knew me)

Do you know I could break beneath the weight of the goodness, love, I still carry for you? That I’d walk so far just to take… the injury of finally knowing you. (both)

It ain't the being alone. It ain't the empty home, baby. You know I'm good on my own. Baby, you know, it’s more the being unknown. (both, lamenting the feeling that they never really understood each other the way they thought they did, and now they’re alone.)

And there are some people, love, who are better unknown. (I can’t even deal with this last line, and I refuse to accept it.)

Verdict: Ineffable, in a murderous kind of way.

"First Light"

One bright morning changes all things. Soft and easy as your breathing, you wake. Your eyes open at first a thousand miles away… but turning, shoot a silver bullet point-blank range… and I can scarce believe what I'm believing in. Could this be how every day begins? The sky set to burst; the gold and the rust. The colour erupts. You, filling my cup. The sun coming up… like I lived my whole life… before the first light. (this is them finally coming back together, and I will die on that hill)

One bright morning goes so easy. Darkness always finds you either way. It creeps into the corners as the moment fades. A voice your body jumps to, calling out your name… but after this, I'm never gonna be the same… and I am never going back again! (they will never make the same mistakes. Knowing how wrong it all was without each other, they will keep this, hold onto it at all costs)

The sky set to burst; the gold and the rust. The colour erupts. You, filling my cup. The sun coming up… like I lived my whole life… before the first light!

(hopeful crescendo… and obviously they will come back together and be happy, dammit!)

Verdict: Ineffable, and a total fucking relief, after that Incredibly Painful album!!! Thank fuck he put this one here, or i might have died over this album the way i did over that last 15 (i mean, i did, on some lines that literally punched me right in the heart and caused me actual physical discomfort)... but since he was kind and put this here, we can have hope!!!

Overall… this album is incredibly Ineffable, and Andrew Hozier-Byrne is a poet who knows how to destroy people with words. But we already knew that. Also, this thing coming out at the same time as GO2 p. much really inextricably links it forever to the Ineffable Divorce, for a lot of us... which makes it a whole other level of hitting harder!

#aziraphale x crowley #ineffable husbands #ineffable heartbreak #unreal unearth #hozier #andrew hozier byrne ruining people's lives #ineffable divorce #aziracrow

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