#this is one of the more tame dreams i’ve had btw. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lovetorn · 4 years

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nightmare dressed like a daydream [dream]

Prince!Dream x Fem!Assassin!Reader

Summary: Y/n is an assassin, moving from kingdom to kingdom to eliminate targets. That’s until she meets Clay, the prince of Dreland, who takes a liking to her unbeknownst of her true intentions.

“I don’t like her—I can’t. She’d kill me, George.”

Word Count: 10.6k (o_O)

Warnings: a lot of death & blood (murder, heart failure), weapons (knives), swearing, toxic relationship, unrequited love :(, mentions of abuse, parental issues — i think that’s all, but if you see anything, lmk!! it’s kinda cringe i use ‘clay’ so like pls ignore it sdfghjkgjh

A/N: this is the fic i’m most proud of :’). there may be a few plot holes and filler paragraphs btw lol. if you have any questions about this fic, shoot me an ask and i’ll be happy to explain, discuss etc. anything you have relating to it! yayyy! enjoy!

She isn’t meant to be here. As a matter of fact, she isn’t supposed to be alive at all. After her last job, Y/n found herself in trouble with the wrong people. She had managed to escape from the small village she was in and find new clients in lands far away—which brought her here, tonight, in the kingdom of Dreland, at a Masquerade in the King’s castle.

She’s dressed in her best skirts and bodice, perfectly fit for the party and makes her blend in seamlessly. She doesn’t want to draw any unwanted attention considering her true intentions of being here.

She walks along the edge of the ballroom, her skirts trailing behind her slightly, and the handle of her mask in her hand. Her movements are sharp and calculated but seem elegant to onlookers. Nobody suspects a thing.

Soon, she’s moving into the middle of the floor and being surrounded by older men who extend their hands to ask for a dance. Y/n shakes her head and declines politely; she doesn’t need to cause a scene.

There’s a stage on the other side of the room where the King and Queen sit in their grand thrones, and Y/n observes their actions, watching around them for one person in particular. She sees a young man exit the curtains with a platter. He wears an apron with a white fabric strip around his hair and holds the tray with delicacy. Y/n snarls when she realises he’s not the right one.

She inches closer to the stage, going to adjust her mask and purposefully dropping it. She watches as the object clatters on the floor and sighs exaggeratedly, waiting for someone to assist her. As planned, a pair of shiny black shoes arrive beside her mask, and the person leans down to grasp it from the polished timber.

“I think you dropped this, Ma’am.”

Their eyes meet—or at least she thinks they do; the badly drawn smile on his mask is distracting and incredibly unsettling for an event such as this one. Y/n knows who he is though, even behind the mask. He is her target.

“The Prince?” Y/n exclaimed in bewilderment. “Mr Wilbur, Sir, do you know how hard that’ll be?”

The older man rolls his eyes before he glares into hers. “I was told you were the best in the business. Do you want the 50 gold or not?” Y/n nods.

“Good. Now, I give you three weeks to complete this, or you get nothing but excruciating death.”

The tall man peers down at her. His head is tilting to the side as he takes in her appearance. “Who are you?”

Y/n was waiting for this question. She simply laughs and takes her mask from his grasp. “I was invited by a friend of mine. She seems to have disappeared since I’ve been over here, though.”

Her disappointment of an excuse has the man nodding—he’s taken the bait. “Interesting.”

Y/n smiles awkwardly, the atmosphere of the room shifting slightly. She hates situations like this.

“Do you wanna get out of here?” He asks, and Y/n’s eyebrows raise. “Excuse me for my informality.”

Y/n shakes her head, giggling lightly as she grabs his hand and drags him towards the exit. He’d usually never stray far from events such as this, but seeing a girl his age and ready for adventure changes his attitude.

Sneaking out past the guards, who pay no mind to two people in masks at a Masquerade, the pair step into the fresh air outside.

“What’s your name?” Y/n asks, already knowing his answer.

“Uh—Clay?” His response sounds more of a question than an answer, which makes Y/n cock her head.

“Why do you make your reply sound like that?”

“Sorry,” He laughs. “Most people call me Dream. I’m the Prince of Dreland.”

False realisation crosses Y/n’s face as she facepalms. “Oh my! I’m so sorry, your highness.”

Dream shakes his head vigorously. “No! No need for formalities, truly. I’m wonderful with being normal for once.”

He hesitates before unclasping his mask from behind his head. The ceramic object falls slightly before he catches it and then he’s looking at Y/n properly.

Dream’s hair fluffs up lightly before he runs his hand through it to tame it. Y/n holds her mask in her hand as she watches him fix his appearance.

“Now that I’ve told you mine, what’s yours?”

Y/n is wary of her answer. On the one hand, she could lie, and on the other, she remembers that he’ll most likely be dead soon, so she shouldn’t lie.

“Y/n.”

Dream smiles at her. “Pretty.” Y/n thanks him and then they stand silently next to each other, the guard near the front door inching closer.

“Do you want to go somewhere more private to talk?” Dream asks quietly. Y/n smirks whilst nodding—she didn’t think she’d be finished the job this quickly.

Dream throws a glance back at the guard before he leads her towards the garden. The moon makes it hard to see the path, but they get there eventually. There’s no talking as they walk, the pair far too busy taking in the beauty of the moonlit garden.

The dirt beds are filled with rose and sunflower bushes, the scent creating a solacing hug around Y/n as she goes to sit next to Dream on a bench. The cold air bites at her skin, causing goosebumps to gloss her body.

She usually isn’t nervous about committing murder, but Dream makes her uneasy. The way that his eyes glance at her worryingly and the harsh tension in his shoulders tells Y/n that Dream’s definitely had this happen before. Y/n bites the inside of her lip; she’d have to be very cunning to gain his trust.

The garden in itself provides her with a sense of comfort. It reminds her of her flower bed at home.

“So, why do they call you Dream?” Y/n asks. Her attempt at trying to defuse the awkwardness works as Dream twists his lips in thought.

“Uh—well, my mother used to say I was her ‘miracle’ and then believed the word was overused and cliche, so she came up with Dream; and it stuck—clearly.”

Y/n nods, a soft smile gracing her face as she turns to him. “Well, I think that’s lovely.”

Dream blushes, although it’s hard to see through the night. “Really?”

“Yeah! That’s beautiful.”

The pair sit in silence, revelling in the moonlight before Dream speaks up again. “Would you like to see the lake?”

Y/n contemplates before she replies. “Sure.”

She had no idea why he’s taking her there, but it’s a sign that she’s gaining his trust.

—

“You don’t know how to skip rocks?”

Dream shakes his head at Y/n, who sits with her jaw open. “How?”

He then shrugs, toying with a small pebble in his palm. “Teach me?”

Y/n nods and takes the rock from him before standing and shuffling towards the lake. She gets into position, her arm bent at an angle beside her body.

She takes a glance back at Dream to make sure he’s watching, which he is. “All you need to do is put your arm back like this, and then sweep it forwards and let go of the rock. Make sure you do it quickly, or it won’t work.”

Y/n exhales and throws her arm, the rock hopping along the glassy water before it plops into the depths.

She spins around with a smile on her face. Dream squints at her; he seems to be analysing her actions. He sighs and plucks a rock from the ground, standing and walking over to Y/n.

“Ready?” She asks. Dream nods while getting into the same stance Y/n was in only 20 seconds ago.

He looks down at the pebble for a moment and then throws it as Y/n said. Dream watches as the rock skips across the pond, creating ripples in the smooth water.

Dream leaps around, his eyes wide. “I did it!”

Y/n can’t help but laugh at him, the pure joy he feels influences her too. “You did!”

Dream sighs heavily and goes back to where they were sitting. He flips back onto the ground, avoiding the sharp rocks protruding the sparse grass. He laughs out loud again, who knew something as trivial as rock skipping could make him feel so alive.

“You’re cute; you know that?” The sudden compliment elicits a blush and a groan from Dream as Y/n nears closer. She smiles down at him. “There must be a lot of things you haven’t tried.”

The statement makes Dream’s heart drop. It’s true, there are many things he hasn’t done. “Yes…”

Y/n’s heart spasms in her chest. Poor guy.

“Ok. Well, I’ll make it my mission to make sure you get them all done before your time comes.”

Dream looks at her. There’s an adoration that swims around in them that inclines Y/n to feel uneasy again. “You mean that?”

The girl nods whilst she goes to lay next to him. “Everybody deserves happiness before they die.”

Dream scrunches his nose up, going to disagree before Y/n interrupts. She doesn’t know why she has the sudden urge to say such a thing, but her chest aches when she looks at him.

“I’m going to be completely honest with you, Dream. I’ve only known you for half an hour, but I feel so uneasy around you.”

This catches Dream by surprise. He tilts his head at Y/n, who covers her face with her hands in embarrassment. “Sorry, sorry–“

“No need to apologise, Y/n. You make me uneasy too, I guess.”

She peers at him between her fingers and then lowers her hands. Y/n lets out a small laugh at his red cheeks and imagines a flush creeping across hers too.

“Uneasy in what sense, may I ask?” Dream’s innocent tone makes Y/n’s ears blush.

“In the sense that you're unpredictable, in a good way. I’m always up for an adventure.” Her description is slightly confusing, but Dream understands.

Above them, the oak trees rustle lightly in the cool breeze, and tiny waves begin to ripple onto the sand meters in front of their feet. The sound of water rushing forwards and then pulling back calms the rapid beating of their hearts.

“I guess I could say the same for you, Y/n.”

“Prince Clay, I have breakfast and a message for you.”

At the sound of his assistant at his bedroom door, Dream groans from his place in his bed. “What time is it?”

“10 am! Get up! I have a message for you if you didn't hear me the first time!” George teases, holding the paper between his fingers; he’s eager to open the letter.

“George!” Dream calls, grabbing his pillow from beside him and shoving his face into it.

“Clay!”

Dream sighs loudly and throws his heavy duvets off of his body, stalking towards the door to unlock it. He swings the door open to see George with a scroll of parchment and a tray with a lid in his hands. Dream’s eyes widen at the sight of breakfast, but George shakes his head. “I have to read your message first.”

Dream rolls his eyes and tells George to hurry up as he struggles to unravel it.

“Ok! Calm down. Uh—it’s from someone named Y/n? Do you know—” George is rudely interrupted when Dream freezes, then smiles. “Yes!”

“Oh, well, she asks to meet you at 9 pm at the place where rocks hop—what does that mean?” George’s face scrunches up in confusion, but Dream sighs, and this time it’s in contentment and not in annoyance.

“Perfect! Thank you, Georgie. Guess I’ll see you later.” Dream snatches the tray from his assistant with his free hand, the other grabbing the piece of paper. George goes to interject before Dream steps to the side and slams the door in his face.

George stands in bewilderment behind the door. His heart aches slightly, and he’s not sure what from—maybe it’s the way Dream discarded him or because of the letter. But he certainly knows Dream has never mentioned anybody called Y/n before.

Maybe they’re just friends? Perhaps they only met last night at the Masquerade?

George scolds himself for his ridiculous thoughts and spins on his heel, heading for his own room. He hesitates before he leaves, hearing Dream let out a shout of excitement. At the sound, George pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and exhales; sadly, the situation brings tears to his dark eyes.

They’re probably just friends.

—

Dream sits anxiously on his bed, his head in his palm as he watches the clock tick. 8:39 pm. 8:40 pm. 8:41 pm.

His heart skips a beat as it reaches the time to leave. Dream leaps from his spot on the bed and goes towards his mirror on the other side of the room. His hands come down to straighten out his dark waistcoat before they move to his hair. He curls his lip up at the sight of his unruly locks and sighs, choosing to ruffle it up slightly rather than putting gel in it.

Taking in his appearance, Dream nods to himself. If he goes towards the Astronomy Tower and then loops towards the lake, he’ll arrive at precisely 8:58 pm; perfect timing.

The night is clear, and the stars look amazing from where Y/n sits on the grass next to the lake. She leans back on her elbows as she takes in the view. It’s whimsical.

Thoughts of murder and pursuit place a dark cloud over the magical evening. Y/n bites her lip and stares at the rippling water in front of her. The lake looks ominous enough to hide a body in or cover up a vast amount of blood, and the dense foliage across the lake is enough to conceal a weapon in. However, Dream is the Prince, and there is no doubt that everybody in the kingdom would be looking high and low for him if he were to go missing.

Y/n’s plans go down the drain. It shouldn't be this hard! Wilbur Soot trusted her to do this, and if she doesn’t go through with it, she is guaranteed death.

She groans loudly, bringing her hands up to dig the heels of her palms into her eyes. Y/n could cry at the idea of failing and being a disappointment, even to people she doesn’t even know.

The rustling of the bushes behind her indicates Dream has arrived, but she doesn't move from her position. Instead, she chooses to gain his sympathy and find a way to manipulate him to make it easier to go through with the assassination.

“Y/n? Are you okay?” Dream rushes towards her, dropping beside her on the grass. Y/n sniffs and shakes her head. “What happened?”

Dream places his hand on her back, softly. The act in itself makes Y/n jump; she’s not used to physical contact.

“Sorry.” He apologises when he sees her startled, deciding to move his hand away and place it back into his lap.

“No, you’re fine,” Y/n lets out a teary laugh. “I—erm, I just found out that my father divorced my mother, and he took the farm and cottage away from her.”

Her hands fall to her lap hopelessly, and Dream’s eyebrows raise in surprise. “Really? I’m so sorry, Y/n.”

The girl shakes her head. The pair sit in the dark, the moon being the only thing illuminating their faces. Y/n thinks she’s hit a dead-end until Dream sighs and continues speaking.

“I can actually relate if it makes you feel better,” This makes Y/n’s ears perk up. “My father has been going to L’Manberg on ‘business trips’, but I know why he’s really leaving.”

Gotcha.

“Clay, I can’t imagine how hard that must be for you. I’m sorry.” He doesn’t reply and reaches over to grasp Y/n’s hand. Dream wears a crestfallen expression, his eyes glassy as he looks out over the water. Y/n feels a pang in her heart at the sight of the upset man.

“I used to think that they had a good relationship,” Dream starts. Y/n doesn’t have the will to hear his perspective on it, afraid that she’ll actually feel bad for him and lose any motivation to kill him. “Until I went for a walk one night through the halls in the castle. I heard voices in my parents’ room and wanted to say ‘goodnight’, but before I could, I heard glass smashing and terrible cries.

“I was only a child, but I knew what was happening. I didn’t want to believe it at first because why would the King and Queen do such horrible things to each other? But as I got older, I realised that they had fallen out of love and are only faking it for the kingdom.”

“Clay—”

“They don’t know that I know all of this; they think I’m as clueless as I was when I was nine. But I’m twenty-one now, and I know everything.”

Y/n screws her lips up, her throat burning with emotion. Why is she feeling like this?

“I don’t know what to say.” And it’s true. Y/n remains speechless as she listens to Dream tell her about his parents.

“Nothing. I just needed someone to know.” Dream is blunt with his words and releases Y/n’s hand. She feels awful for not being able to help him in the way he needs, but she’s not here to be his therapist—she’s here to murder him.

“Hey, how about we lighten the mood with some rock skipping?” And that’s just enough for Dream.

—

“Where are you staying?” Dream asks. Y/n is caught off guard by the question but tells him her orchestrated answer.

“In the castle, actually.”

Dream turns to look at her, a lopsided smile on his lips. “Really?” Y/n nods.

In an attempt to change the subject, Y/n picks up Dream’s hand from his lap. “Enough about me. Tell me what your favourite food is.”

Dream gives her a confused look before replying. “Vanilla cake.”

Y/n hums and fiddles with his fingers. “Interesting.”

Dream throws his head back to gaze at the moon above them. He is comfortably content at this moment with Y/n, despite only knowing her for a day. His eyes widen before he scrabbles to stand hastily. “I gotta go! You want to walk back together?”

“I’m going to stay here a bit longer, if that’s alright with you.” Y/n smiles at him and Dream nods. It is reaching midnight and Dream knows he’ll be in trouble for being out so late.

After he bids goodbye to Y/n, Dream begins his journey home. He hears wolves howling from behind the walls that surround the castle and goosebumps rise on his skin. It’s expectantly silent for the time of night, the only sound being animals as they scavenge.

Dream’s footsteps are heavy on the pathway back to the castle, and his heart rate picks up at the sound of trees rustling. With his head on a swivel, Dream spins around to face the bush. He sucks his lips between his teeth and continues, checking back every once in a while, to make sure he isn’t being followed.

He sees the grand entrance of the castle and his feet quicken. There’s a sudden whoosh behind him and then a breeze. A twig snaps in the distance and instead of running, he slows down. Dream forces himself to calm down—he’s only scaring himself.

“Dream~” A voice sings into the wind. The tune has Dream sprinting to the doors, his heart beating out of his chest. Surely, he didn’t hear what he thought he heard.

The wooden doors are heavy as he pushes them open before he stumbles inside. Dream is quick to close them once more, locking them in the process. He’s safe now, right?

A sliver of white ripped fabric floats in the wind on a spike outside of his window. Dream eyes it suspiciously, that wasn’t there last night.

He stretches his arms out, his joints cracking as his stare remains trained on the material. An uneasy feeling rises in his chest before his bedroom door opens suddenly.

“Clay~” His assistant, George, sings. He holds a tray in his hands and a beaming smile on his face. “Breakfast!”

“Hi.” At Dream’s wavering voice, George places the tray on the table and stalks over to the Prince.

“What’s wrong?” He sits on Dream’s bed and tries to meet his gaze.

“Somebody’s after me, George,” Dream whispers, his fearful eyes are staring into George’s.

“How do you know?”

“I just know.”

“Well, we have to inform the King and Queen at once, Clay!”

Dream shakes his head. “I’m sure I’ll be fine; besides, I’m inside the castle for most of the day anyways. There’s no way anybody like that could get in.”

George goes to interject but knows better than to do so. He trusts Dream, more than anyone else; if he says he’s fine, then he’s fine. Right?

“Ok… but if anything happens, you tell me. Got it?” George says his voice stern. Dream hasn’t heard this tone since he attempted to run from the castle last year after an argument with his parents. George had been scared out of mind when his best friend—the prince—was reported missing.

“Has this got anything to do with Y/n, perhaps?” Dream is bewildered that George would say such a thing. “No! I trust Y/n. She could never do such a thing.”

George nods timidly and apologises before he stands. “Breakfast is on your desk. I’ll be back later to collect the plates.”

Dream furrows his eyebrows as he watches George sulk. Why does Y/n worry him so much?

—

Dream walks in the moonlight along the high walls that surround the castle. If anybody knew he was out at this hour, he’d be in so much trouble. It wasn’t that his parents didn’t trust him; it was everybody else.

When he was younger, a groundskeeper had led him outside the gates with the intent to sell him off. The experience had left Dream untrusting to many, and although he was much older now, much more robust, he had a hard time getting to know people.

An owl hoots from the tree above him and the moon hangs behind its body, casting a shadow onto the dirt beneath. The silhouette is ghostly, and the sight makes the creature look much more sinister than it is.

Dream stops in his place and watches as the owl hops along the thick branch, the rustling of the leaves distracting him for a moment. The bird then pauses and turns to look at him. Dream smiles softly and whispers, “Hi, little owl.”

Much to his surprise, the owl actually hoots back. The sound makes Dream’s eyes widen as he continues to speak quietly to the bird.

A twig snapping behind him causes the owl to flap its wings and shoot off into the night, making Dream frown. He sighs before turning around with the intent of going back to the castle. He’s been out for long enough anyway.

His mind drifts to Y/n. He wonders where she is, his heart skipping a beat at the mere thought of her. It is ridiculous really, how quickly he’s fallen for a girl he only met a few weeks ago. But he knows she’s different from the princesses his family has tried to set him up with. Y/n is different in the sense that she actually makes him nervous—lovestruck, even.

The sound of someone clearing their throat catches Dream’s attention, and then he turns to his right to face the noise.

“Dream.” A voice says.

Dream freezes. His heart picks up speed as he’s met with a person, a mask covering their face. His hands begin to shake as the person draws closer.

As they approach him, Dream can tell it’s a woman. As sexist as it is, he knows he could take her if they were to engage in a fight. Dream scolds himself at the thought, and his frightened expression goes slack.

“Who are you?” He exclaims, pushing his hair from his eyes to get a better look.

“I’m here on orders from someone to kill you.”

Dream’s heart skips a beat. He knew it.

“I know.”

The girl stops in her place. “How?”

“I could feel it,” Dream gulps. “It’s happened before.”

The girl nods and lifts her arm. Dream squints into the darkness to see what she is doing before he’s being pushed backwards. He stumbles slightly before he regains balance and begins running.

“Dream~” The girl sings, her voice slightly distorted. Dream hears her loud and clear as he leaps over tree roots and dirt mounds.

“Leave me alone!”

She laughs and picks up speed behind him. Dream is shocked by how quickly she’s gaining on him, but he persists, nonetheless. A crooked smirk spreads across his cheeks as he looks back at her.

“I can’t do that.”

Dream’s lungs and throat burn as he draws in breaths. Adrenaline rushes through his veins, and his knees begin to buckle as he prepares his arms to catch him when he falls. He doesn’t run much. But despite the pain, a sly grin continues to play on his lips.

Dream’s feet give way below him, and then he’s tumbling onto the freshly mown grass. He’s run a long way, now lying in the garden rather than being in the forest. The moon sits high in the sky and shines down on him intensely.

And although he’s scared for his life, Dream can’t help but feel a little relieved. He moves to sit back on his heels as the girl comes up in front of him, a dagger drawn in her hand. It’s like a game to both of them.

“I’ve got you now, Dream,”

“It seems you do.”

The masked girl’s dagger presses firmly against his throat. The blade gleams in the moonlight, and the pressure elicits a groan from him.

Dream smiles as a drop of blood cascades down his chest. He enjoys the feeling a little more than he should, and the glint in her eye shows him that she does too. Why are her eyes so familiar?

“But I’ll spare you.”

Dream’s eyebrows furrow as he watches her pull her knife away from his neck and shove it back into the slot in her boot. “Why?”

The girl sighs, her arms relaxing by her side. “Because I—something’s telling me I should.”

She turns on her heel, looking around before she ducks into the line of trees behind them.

Dream exhales deeply, relieved—the small cut on his throat stinging as he tilts his head up to stare at the moon. He’s vulnerable in this position; on his knees and unarmed. Who would spare the prince if they had the perfect chance to kill him? What made her change her mind?

In his conversation with the moon, Dream thinks about the girl’s eyes and why they were so familiar to him—and why she spared him. He squints at the full moon, begging for answers, trying to remember where he’d seen such beauty.

His dazed smile is quickly wiped from his lips, and the realisation knocks the oxygen out of his lungs, and soon he’s gasping for air and clawing his chest—it’s Y/n.

Dream sits at the long dining table with a new plate of eggs and turkey.

“Dreamy, darling, are you going to eat?” The Queen asks, her head lolling to the side as she talks to her son.

Dream’s lips twitch as he shakes his head. “Not that hungry.”

Y/n was on the verge of killing him last night.

“Oh? Are you feeling okay?”

Dream then nods, resting his cheek in his palm. His hair is messy, and his clothes remain skewed from sleeping. He usually didn’t present himself like this at breakfast.

“Yes, perfectly fine. I’m sorry for not looking presentable this morning.”

His mother sighs, her hand reaching out to grasp his free one. “That’s alright.”

Dream gives her a tight-lipped smile and squeezes her hand. He notes that her ring finger is bare but decides against saying anything.

“Where’s dad?” He asks instead. His mother stills, her face unreadable as she nods once.

“He had to leave this morning—business in L’Manberg.”

Dream doesn’t speak and lifts his hand, picking up his fork. The action elicits a soft smile from his mother. He stabs a slice of grilled turkey and brings it to his mouth.

—

“Clay!”

At the sound of his name, Dream turns around.

It’s after breakfast and Dream stands in the corner of the ballroom gazing out of the large windows that look onto the back garden. The head cook, and one of his best friends, Nick, is approaching him. “Nick?”

His friend laughs, untying his apron from behind his back before he lays it over the end of one of the sofas. Dream steps forward to embrace Nick in a hug. “How have you been?”

Nick contemplates his answer before he responds. “Flippin’ awesome.” Dream’s jaw goes slack at the cooking pun and chuckles.

“Ha, ha. SO funny.”

The pair pull away, and Dream faces the window again. The sapphire butterflies that flutter around the apple tree outside bring him a sense of comfort as Nick comes up beside him. The pair bask in warmth from the sun, the window making it much hotter than it is.

“I’ve missed you, man. The kitchen’s been boring without you sneaking in.” Nick frowns and Dream feels his stomach drop. He takes a glance at the shorter man and sighs.

“I’m sorry, bro. George said it’s ideal for me not to sneak around at night because—”

Dream’s breath hitches in his throat, eliciting a cough. Nick shoots him a look. “Because of what?”

“Erm—uh, I guess there’s somebody after me.”

“What? Really?”

Dream nods, wiping his nose with his fist. Nick struggles to find the words to say. “You don’t need to say anything; I don’t expect you to. I just thought I should let you know.”

Nick exhales deeply, bringing his hand up to run his fingers through his hair. “That’s rough.”

“Yeah,” Dream whispers. The two of them stand in silence as they watch the insects fly around in the sunlight. “Come here.”

Then Dream’s pulling Nick into another hug. This time, their embrace means something, and Dream knows it’ll be one of the last times he sees his best friend. Be safe. I love you.

A sniffle from Nick prompts Dream to push him away at arm's length, his hands resting on his shoulders. The younger man complains about how embarrassing it is seeing him cry, but Dream shakes his head in assurance. “It’s okay—I’ll be okay.”

“I hope so; I can’t imagine this place without you.”

Dream sits on his bed, silently. He recalls the events from last night and exhales deeply. A million questions run through his mind as he shifts positions, now choosing to lay on his back and stare at the high ceiling. His fingertips come up to brush the scabbing cut on his neck.

Why did he somewhat enjoy the blade against his neck? Why wasn’t he scared when it pierced his skin? Would he tell George? But most of all, why was Y/n after him? He trusted her–didn’t he?

A sudden knock on his bedroom door and the quiet sweep of paper against wood brings him from his screaming mind. He sits up abruptly, spotting the piece of parchment on the timber floor. Dream glances out of the window quickly and goes to snatch it from the ground.

The crinkling of paper is loud as he rushes to open it.

Meet me at the Astronomy Tower at noon.

Dream’s eyebrows fly to his hairline. Y/n wants to meet with him. Would she mention what happened last night? Does she know he knows it’s her? Is she planning to kill him right now?

Another knock makes him jump. But this time, it opens.

“Clay?”

“George!” Dream exclaims, pulling his assistant by his sleeve into the room, the door closing behind them.

“Uh, yes?” George is confused at Dream’s jagged movements. Dream shoves the letter into the older boy’s hands and waits for his reaction. When George doesn’t reply, Dream rolls his eyes.

“It’s from Y/n!”

“Well, you have to go.”

Dream is both shocked and relieved. “I have to go?”

George nods. He reads over the letter one last time before he gives it back to Dream. George squints when he notices his friend’s slightly pink cheeks.

“Why are you blushing?”

Dream immediately coughs in an attempt to cover up his embarrassment. George keeps his eyes on him as he does so, screwing his lips up in slight irritation that somebody can make Dream flustered.

“Oh! Do you have a crush?” George teases, although it’s more of an accusation than a joke. Dream laughs, shoving him away. George chooses to ignore the tugging at his heart when he hears the Prince giggle like that.

“I don’t like her—I can’t. She’d kill me, George.” Dream jokes, patting his friend on the back. But is he really joking?

“Kill you?”

Dream laughs, spinning on his heel whilst shrugging. “Kill me.”

“Did you speak to Nick this morning?” George asks, his fake smile flipping into a frown. The mood drops immediately, all laughs, and carelessness forgotten.

Dream nods. “I told him how I think somebody’s after me again. He looked pretty scared.”

“He was worried when I told him you wanted to talk to him about it.” George tilts his head and sighs.

“...It’s nearly noon. I better get going.” Dream deflects the topic, choosing to stand tall once more. He doesn’t want George to suspect anything’s wrong with Y/n, so he puts on a false façade, a smile stretching across his cheeks.

George doesn't say anything and tries to make his smile believable as he opens Dream’s bedroom door for him. “Have fun, I guess.”

The younger man practically skips out of the room, and when he is halfway down the hallway, he turns. “What was it that you needed, George? When you knocked before?”

George dismisses his question. “Not important. Now, go!”

Although, to George, it is crucial, and now he has missed his chance.

—

Dream’s boots slap the cobblestone steps as he makes his way up the tower. He peers around the corner, wary of his movements as he goes. When he reaches the top, he cautiously tiptoes to the balcony. His hand goes to trace the scab forming on his neck and forgets it when he hears her.

“Clay?” Her voice is soft, holding much more kindness than it did when she had a blade to his throat. “Y/n.”

He sees her perched on a picnic mat, a basket next to her. Dream tilts his head as he watches her stand and approaches him. Her arms wrap around his neck in a hug and then he’s hugging her back. “Hi.”

“Hey,” She laughs, pulling back slightly to admire his face. “I missed you today.” Dream gives a muffled noise of agreement into her shoulder.

Y/n steps back and squints at his neck. “What happened?” Her fingers delicately feel the wound before Dream dodges her.

“Nothing, nothing. What’s all this?”

She appears to overlook his shitty deflection and motions towards the place where she was sitting. “I made us a picnic.”

The way she smiles almost makes Dream forget who she is. He forces a smile back, his heart aching at the realisation of reality. She’ll kill him soon.

“I baked a cake for you, vanilla—you said that was your favourite, right?” Y/n’s anxious actions worry Dream as he sits down next to her. He lifts his head to look out over the land, and the view is breath-taking.

“Woah,” He breathes.

Y/n smiles brightly at him, glancing at the green hills and blue skies before she focuses on cutting a slice of cake.

“You know, I never really admired this view until I met you.” Dream confesses—and it’s true. Y/n pauses, gazing at him as he turns towards her.

“Really?”

He nods, his breath hitching in his throat at the sight of her. She truly is gorgeous. “You’re pretty.”

Y/n’s eyes widen, and she feels her cheeks flush. “Oh, thank you, Clay. You’re pretty too.” Her hair falls in front of her face as she looks down, and Dream feels a pang in his heart.

“Have some cake,” Y/n mumbles, handing him a napkin with the dessert placed on it. The sweet looks delectable, and Dream can’t wait to take a bite—unless…

“You know what? I’m not that hungry, actually. But the cake looks delicious. Thank you.” Y/n furrows her eyebrows, and a look of hurt flashed across her face. “Oh.”

She hurries to take it back from him, but he refuses to give it to her. “What are you doing?” She asks.

Dream motions for her to cut another piece, “I’ll only eat if you do.”

Y/n nods slowly, moving the knife to slice into the cake once more. She flips it onto another napkin and brings it towards her mouth.

“What? You think it’s poisonous?” Y/n laughs, watching as Dream becomes flustered. “No!”

His response is quick and cautious, but Y/n doesn’t seem to notice as she takes a bite of her piece of cake. Dream watches as she chews and swallows, earning a confused glance from her. Nothing happens.

“Well, I didn’t drop dead. Your turn,” She laughs, hurt still evident on her features. Dream feels guilty. He holds the cake surprisingly firmly, bringing it to his lips. His heart races as he puts it between his teeth and bites down. The cake is very sweet, and it’s good. Dream catches Y/n’s eye as he eats, giving her a nod of approval. She smiles widely and visibly relaxes.

The action calms something in Dream, too. He finishes off his cake and waits for Y/n to do the same. He sees some white frosting fall onto the bodice of her dress, the sugary mixture tumbling down onto her skirt. The girl doesn’t seem to notice as she licks the remaining icing off her fingers.

“Uh—Y/n, you got some—uh,” Dream motions to her skirt, and watches as she sighs deeply. “Awww, I just washed these.”

Dream stifles a giggle when Y/n scrunches her nose up and goes to wipe it off. As small as the action is, Dream’s heart skips a beat at her cute expression. He scolds himself for feeling such this way; she tried to kill you last night.

He eyes the knife next to the basket, sweet frosting covering the blade. The growing desire to grab it and ram it right through her chest burns in his mind, but he holds back. He clenches his jaw, and for the first time, Dream is terrified of himself.

He shakes the deranged through from his head. What was that?

Dream watches as Y/n shoves the used napkin into the basket and lifts her eyes to meet his. He smiles softly, causing Y/n to cover her face with her hands. “Stop that.”

“Stop what?” He laughs, reaching to poke her in the ribs. Y/n yelps quietly, jolting when he shocks her side. “Stop making me flustered. It’s hardly polite.”

Dream stops, the tips of his ears reddening. He makes her nervous? “Oh, come on now.”

The rasp in his voice makes Y/n freeze. She peers at him through her fingers and sees him smirking at her. She lets out a high-pitched sound and returns her hands over her eyes. As much as Dream hates to admit it, there’s a fuzzy feeling in his chest.

“Clay, I’m going to take my hands away from my eyes now, and you better not say anything suggestive.”

Dream chuckles, extending his arms out to grasp her fingers and pull them down. She doesn’t meet his gaze as he holds her hands in her lap. Birds chirp and fly past the balcony, their singing being a perfect addition to the atmosphere the pair had created.

They don’t say anything as they lean closer. Dream tilts his head slightly, a small smile gracing his face as he sees Y/n do the same.

“Prince Clay, the Queen would like to see you in the castle.”

The two of them are still at the sound of another. George stands at the top of the stairs, a scroll in his right hand. Dream rolls his eyes in annoyance, throwing Y/n an apologetic look as he releases her hands. “Thanks, George.”

“I—I’ll see you later?” Y/n whispers as she watches Dream clamber up to his full height. He nods hastily, not giving her a second look, and rushes out behind George. He feels her stare on the back of his skull but continues.

Y/n sits in silence as the clanging of the wooden door downstairs slams against the stone walls. The chirping of the birds outside dies down, and she frowns.

As much as she’s supposed to detest Dream, Y/n feels butterflies cluster in her stomach at the mere thought of him. The idea of killing him causes the butterflies to turn to spiders and makes Y/n feel sick. She can’t go through with this—not now, not ever.

—

“Dre—Clay.”

Dream freezes; his mother only uses his real name when things are serious. He nods once, prompting his mother to continue.

“Your father has yet to return to the kingdom from his trip to L’Manberg. However, plans have changed, and it seems he’ll be there longer than expected.” The Queen’s voice is steady but has undertones of utter sadness, which Dream picks up on instantly.

“Why?” He asks.

“He gave me a straight answer; business.”

Dream doesn’t say nor does anything. Instead, he remains still. His lack of response earns a reaction from his mother, however. “What is it?”

“Is it why you don’t wear your ring anymore?” Dream refuses to meet her eye, afraid he’ll upset her more than he already has with his question.

The Queen inhales sharply, glancing at her hand before she composes herself. “Yes.”

Her voice is just above a whisper, but Dream catches it. His heart clenches, and then he finally meets her watery eyes.

Dream’s hard exterior breaks as he wraps his arms around his mother. He uses his finger to usher the guards and assistants out of the room and then rests his hand on the back of her hair in an attempt to quiet her soft cries.

He tries his best to be strong for her, swallowing the growing lump in his throat.

The room is far too silent for Dream’s liking, and he wishes for something to happen to break it.

And something does. The slam of the double doors makes the pair jump, Dream spinning around to see who had interrupted.

Y/n stands there, the same picnic basket in her hand. “I’m sorry for intruding!”

Dream’s mother quickly wipes under her eyes and places her usual people-pleasing smile on. “What can I do for you, darling?”

Y/n walks further into the room, glancing at Dream momentarily before opening the basket in front of the Queen.

“I brought you some berries. I was speaking to Dream earlier, and he told me you loved strawberries. So, I picked some for you, myself.” Her smile is deceiving, Dream can tell, but it’s also warming, and kind and his chest aches at the sight of it.

The Queen gasps, her hands going to take the basket from Y/n. She peers in and sees it full to the brim with the berries. “Oh my,”

Y/n’s smile grows, her eyes meeting Dream’s. Although he knows her true intentions, he’s extremely grateful for her kindness. “Thank you, Y/n.”

“Yes, yes, thank you!” His mother beams. She turns around and starts walking towards another door behind them.

Once the door closes, Y/n grins at Dream, and he smiles back. His heart twists in his chest, and his eyes burn with tears. Oh, how silly I am, he thinks.

The next time Dream sees Y/n, and she’s under the wooden bridge in the garden, her hair and undergarments drenched. The sun burns intensely down on his neck as he approaches her.

Y/n watches the lake rush under her, the odd fish jumping out and diving back into the freezing water. It’s a harsh contrast to the weather outside, swelteringly hot and humid, but Y/n doesn’t pay any mind when she contemplates going for a swim.

She jogs off the bridge and circles back around to shuffle down the steep, grass bank. Butterflies flutter majestically around her, enhancing the experience of being in an actual kingdom rather than a desert village—it's magical.

Y/n’s eyes dart around before her hands tend to her back to untie her bodice. She sucks on her bottom lip, and she does so, the process takes far too long.

Throwing the structured clothing to the grass, she then moves to her top skirt, pulling it up over her head. Her heeled boots and frilly socks are the last things to remove and then Y/n is left standing in a plain cream skirt and button-up.

She pays no attention to her surroundings as she lifts her remaining skirt and dips her toes into the icy lake, her mouth forming an ‘o’ shape at the temperature.

From here, Y/n can see that the middle of the lake is the deepest point; the bottom is nowhere in sight through the clear water.

Y/n doesn’t think twice as she leaps into the middle, her entire body submerging under the surface. Her senses are shocked, and her throat closes at the sudden chill. Y/n claws at the water to reach the surface, and then she feels the sun on her cheeks. She takes a large breath and wipes her eyes.

“Y/n?” The girl turns towards the sound of Dream’s voice.

“Clay?” She smiles. He runs down the bank and towards the water, although he stops before he can dive in.

“What are you doing?” He calls, tilting his head at her. “Swimming.”

Dream rolls his eyes, “Obviously!”

This elicits a giggle from Y/n as she swims to the edge, her clothes drenched and her heavy makeup running down her face.

“Hi,” Y/n says as she draws closer. Dream tries fighting a smile at the sight of her in her undergarments. He feels the tips of his ears redden. “I don’t care if you see me like this, Clay.”

He doesn’t say anything as he reaches his hands for her cheeks. He thinks she looks absolutely gorgeous. But the rising impulse to push her head under the water and never let her up is powerful. Once his fingertips brush her cheek, his breathing becomes laboured and clenches his jaw. She tried to kill you.

Y/n notices him vacantly staring at her and waves her hand in front of his eyes. “Clay?”

Dream’s blank expression doesn’t waver. Instead, Y/n swears, she sees his green eyes darken. His hands move from her cheeks to her shoulders, and his grip tightens. Y/n’s face scrunches in uncertainty, and she tries to shift from under his secure hold. Dream’s glare turns wicked as she continues to withdraw. “Clay? Stop, you’re scaring me.”

His head cocks to the side mockingly, his arms going to push her shoulders down. Y/n losing footing on the rocks under her feet and her neck reaches the water. She claws hastily at his hands, and soon she’s gulping mouthfuls of the icy water. Dream shows no signs of stopping until the sound of her screams brings him from his empty glare. “S-Stop it-t!”

“Y/n?”

Dream blinks, and his face softens. He furrows his eyebrows when he sees Y/n struggling to keep her head above the water and grips under her armpits to pull her to stand again. Dream becomes increasingly worried as he sees tears running down her cheeks instead of lake water and makeup, opening his mouth to pour out apologies.

Y/n stays silent, her eyes shooting from his gaze to the water. She is confused and scared. Questions run through her mind at a million miles per second. Why? Why, why, why? Does he know why she is actually here? Does he know her true intentions? Did he just try and drown her?

“What’s your problem?” Y/n yells, scrambling up the edge of the lake and towards her dry clothes. Dream says nothing. Why did he do that?

“I—I’m so sorry, Y/n.” Maybe it wasn’t her who had a dagger to his throat all that time ago. Perhaps she’s just a normal girl.

Y/n snarls at him, her top lip curled up in disgust. “I don’t want to see you anymore.”

The words shock Dream back into reality. “No! No, no.”

“Yes. Now, leave me alone, Clay.” Y/n spits as she gathers her clothes and stomps back towards the castle.

Dream stays crouching next to the lake. He stares at his reflection in the water. It twists and turns into a horrible creature baring sharp teeth and dark, dark eyes. He shakes his head instantly; the reflection swirling back into himself.

What is going on?

—

The fire almost burns Y/n’s icy hands as she inches closer to the flame. With her dry clothes on, her hair is still wet, and it drips down the back of her bodice and skirts, making her even colder; Y/n regrets not drying her hair before she got dressed.

As she stares into the fire, Dream’s void expression and evil eyes eat away at her conscience, making her squeeze her eyes shut at the thought.

“You,”

The sound of a singular word makes Y/n turn around. George, Dream’s assistant, stands in front of her. His hard eyes are glaring at her as she cocks her head. “George?”

“You’re here to kill him, aren’t you?” He spits, backing away slowly. Y/n's face shifts to one of shock, her hands shaking in at her sides.

“Kill him? I would never do such a thing! If anything, he tried to kill me half an hour ago! At the bridge!”

George scoffs, inching his hand towards the fire poker that leans against the brick fireplace next to him. “You know, you really need to work on your coyness, Y/n.”

She rolls her eyes at him, her teeth chattering as she does so. “You’re ridiculous, George. I love him despite his mistakes.”

The man lets out a grunt. “You don’t!”

Y/n steps back at his sudden aggressiveness. She sees the fire poker in his whitening knuckles and then stares at him in bewilderment. “Stop it! You’re going to hurt yourself or me.”

A sinister laugh escapes George’s throat as he brings the sharp object up to her face, “Oh, I’m definitely going to hurt you. You’re not going anywhere near Clay, again.”

At his sentence, Y/n stills, and her concerned expression falls slack. She’s done this more times than she can count. Her cold hands intertwine in front of her stomach as a look of confusion crosses George’s face.

“Listen, I came here to do one thing, and whether or not that plan has changed is none of your business,” Y/n says her stare never wavering.

She hates to make it so vague, but she knows if he told him the truth, she’d be dead either way—whether that be by George and his fire poker, or by Wilbur Soot and his many friends that could have her head on a pitchfork at any given moment.

George narrows his eyes at her. “You’re lying.”

She shrugs; Y/n knows not to show fear; it would only motivate him more.

The end of the poker is dangerously close to her face, and George sighs before he lowers it. “You love him?”

Y/n’s eyes soften, and she recoils slightly. She blinks slowly, her eyes coming to rest on her feet. Y/n hates showing emotion, choosing to spill everything in isolation rather than unveiling her vulnerability to potential threats.

George only nods and retreats, placing the poker back next to the fireplace. He hesitates before he speaks, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. George drops his head and sighs, his heart shattering at the mere thought of Dream, returning her feelings.

“I don’t know who you are or why you’re here, but I know one thing; I’ve never seen Clay like this before, so please don’t hurt him. I can tell he cares about you, dearly.” He refuses to meet Y/n’s eye as he turns to exit.

She becomes wary of his sudden change in mood but decides against asking him any questions as she sees the tail of his dress coat float around the corner of the doorframe.

George almost couldn’t believe his eyes when he walked into Dream’s bedroom the next morning. The sunlight had only just begun to flood the kingdom, the clock on the wall showing 6:18 am.

“Why are you already up? Who are you?” George jokes approaching his best friend. Dream sits hunched over his desk, his quill hurrying over a piece of parchment. George furrows his brows at the strange behaviour but chooses to ignore it as he pulls a chair beside Dream.

The younger man stops his actions and glances at his assistant. “What are you doing?”

George pales. “I—uh, just wanted to see what you are doing.” Dream throws him a dirty look before he angles his body away.

George bites the inside of his cheek, his body filling with rage at Dream’s attitude. “What’s your deal?”

Dream stills; George has never spoken to him like that before. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me, Clay! Why are you so secretive all of a sudden? You always tell me what’s going on.”

The Prince doesn’t seem to notice the absolute heartbreak and sadness in his assistant’s voice and clenches his fists. “Just fuck off, George! You’re my assistant, not my friend. I only call you when I need you. Got it?”

You could hear a pin drop in the silence that follows. George feels his entire body tingle as it falls numb, his stomach turning sickly. He watches as Dream huffs and turns back to his piece of paper, like a child; his arm covering the page and his other scribbling down words or exactly that—scribbles.

It takes everything in George to stand up and leave. His legs are jelly as he wobbles out; his tears finally spilling down his cheeks. He shuts Dream’s bedroom door quietly, not anger him further, and runs down the hall towards his own room.

The halls are silent, not a soul in sight but the broken one that floats behind George while he tries to swallow choked sobs.

He hops down a few stairs, and then he’s pushing his door open, slamming it behind him in total defeat. He slides down the back of it, his hands coming to cover his flushed face. George scratches at his chest as he struggles to quieten the sound of his laboured breathing and hiccups. His heartbeat stutters within his ribcage—but that’s the least of his worries.

This is the suffering of complete and utter heartbreak, and now George knows how it feels after three years of dreading it. He screws his eyes shut, in hopes of stopping the tears and forces himself to calm down.

He loves Clay as more than a friend—this he knows is true. But, George scolds himself for being so foolish for thinking the Prince would reciprocate his one-sided love.

And as the air fills his lungs, George stops. He holds his breath for as long as he can—the burning of his body screaming for him to breathe is the only thing he feels. He’s lightheaded as he gazes out of the window opposite him. The oak trees rustle in the dawn breeze, and it's tranquil. He feels his heart clench in his chest and then an unbearable searing pain that he can only compare to tossing your body into a fire and feeling it melt your skin.

The world is peaceful as he continues to let his body ignite and soon dwindle into nothing.

And as the sun rises higher, his body slumps lower onto the ground, his eyes glassy and still staring out at the garden.

—

Meet me in the garden at dusk.

Her fingers trace the outline of the scraggly letters. Dream’s letter is vague, with no real meaning and nothing to indicate why he wants to meet. Usually, George delivered Dream’s letters to Y/n, but today it was rushed to her by another servant from the castle. Weird.

Y/n squints closer at the letter; she can see how hard Dream drove the quill into the paper by the letters’ slightly ripped edges. Leaning closer, the smell of lavender seeps through the parchment. There are no lavender plants in the garden.

Instead of going unprepared, Y/n reaches into the desk drawer and retrieves her dagger. She brings it towards her face and tilts it in the light, the metal reflecting into her eyes. Lifting her skirts on one side, Y/n shoves the knife into the case clasped around her thigh. It's subtle and easy to get to if needed.

Y/n sighs, reading over the letter one last time before she walks towards the fire in the corner. She tosses it into the flames, watching as reds and oranges engulf the paper.

She knows what comes next. If Dream wants her to meet him, then she’ll do it, but she also has to go through with her duties whether she likes it or not.

Y/n draws nearer to the garden, her eyes darting around the trees in hopes—or in fear—of seeing Dream. The sun burns in the distance, begging to say goodbye for the day as it watches the girl tiptoe over tree roots.

Once she enters the area enclosed by stone walls and arches, tears gather in Y/n’s eyes when she sees him, her heartstrings pulling violently in her chest. Dream stands on the other side of the garden, the thorns from the rose bush piercing his dress pants. Y/n remains frozen under one of the stone arches at the garden’s entrance, her dagger prominent in its case around her thigh.

His cold stare meets her cautious eyes and his face does nothing to soothe her nerves like it usually does. Instead, his stern expression stirs panic around in her stomach and makes her feel ill. Y/n abandons her original plan to stay withdrawn from the situation because once she sees him, she breaks.

“I can’t kill you, Clay!”

Dream freezes at her sudden shout. The pain in her voice makes him clench his jaw, and soon he’s approaching her. “What?”

Y/n inhales sharply, her breath hitching in her throat before she continues. “You know that I came here to kill you, you figured it out! And now I can’t go through with it.”

“Why?” Dream’s glare challenges her.

“Don’t make me answer that,”

“Y/n,”

“Clay.”

“I asked you a question. Answer it.”

Y/n squeezes her eyes shut, her fists tense by her sides. Dream’s blunt tone is the last thing she needs to suppress her feelings further. “Because I hate you and I can’t possibly assassinate you when I have feelings like that—it’s immoral.”

He scoffs at her horrible excuse. “If you truly hate me, I would’ve been dead the first second you saw me. Don’t lie to me, Y/n.”

Y/n could scream—in frustration, in anger, in heartbreak. She wants to stand on the ledge of the Astronomy Tower and scream about how much she loves him; scream about how much she hates him; scream about how she would go to the ends of the earth for a man she is supposed to murder.

“Leave me, Clay. I need to be alone.”

With the shake of his head, Dream steps closer. “You love me; that’s why. It took me a while to realise, but I know now. And the worst part is, I love you too.”

The confession has Y/n panicking. Her eyes widen, and her hands scramble to snatch the knife from her thigh—but Dream’s quicker. He leaps towards her, his body colliding with hers as they stumble onto the grass. Y/n’s dagger presses against his neck, but there’s one against hers too.

An unfamiliar panic runs through Y/n as she feels a blade across her throat, but she keeps a hard exterior. The deadly look in Dream’s eye catches Y/n off guard as she pushes her knife firmly. A split appears on his skin—his blood dripping onto her neck, making him readjust his grip on his own dagger.

His mother’s face flashes through Dream’s mind while he swallowed thickly. He apologises in his thoughts as he glares at Y/n.

The heat of his hot blood on her skin is unlike anything Y/n’s felt before; maybe it’s the bloodlust or something else, but Dream notices.

Y/n opens her lips to speak but is stopped when he leans down to press his mouth against hers. The kiss is contrastingly soft compared to the incredibly vulnerable and intense position they’re in. Dream’s skin burns where the cut is and feels it grow as he leans closer to her face. Y/n gasps when she feels metal pierce her skin, and soon they’re whispering into each other’s lips.

The end is near. And as Y/n stares into Dream’s enchanting, sinister eyes, she reaches.

She reaches for the release she’s been begging for since she met him. She’s desperate to feel him one last time—in love and not hate. There's one final strand of hope that maybe, just maybe, he can see her dying love for him seep through her ever-growing bloodlust and absolute inhumanity.

But he doesn’t. And the same devilish grin he wore when she had a blade to his throat for the first time splits his red cheeks. The twinkle in her eye tells him she feels it too, and then her teeth bare a vile smirk.

“I’ll love you forever, Clay.”

“Forever is the sweetest con, my love.”

There are dull sweeps of blades across skin, and then there’s silence.

Excruciating, deafening nothingness.

And as the sun dips beyond the horizon, Y/n and Clay’s hands intertwine, not once sparing a glance back at their bodies that lay cold on the cobblestone pathway.

Feedback is always appreciated xx

#dream smp x reader #dream smp imagine #dream smp imagines #dreamwastaken imagine #dreamwastaken x reader #dream au #dreamwastaken au #mcyt imagine #mcyt x reader #nightmare dressed like a daydream!au #ndlad!au #dream x reader #dream imagine

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has-gilgamesh-doneanythingwrong · 3 years

Note

In regards to the high school Au, Gil meeting a shy yet pretty girl that he likes. What would he do to win her heart?

Hello, anon! I'm glad you enjoyed the high school AU. This will be an interesting continuation...TIME TO GO IN GUNS BLAZING!!

btw i made the reader insert character gender neutral so then it feels more like a dating sims game. :3

note: this is going to be a bit ooc (crackfic maybe)

Student Gilgamesh Developing a Crush (High School Au)

- Bored, Gilgamesh sips his wine on the school roof as usual; gorging himself in a specially-reserved bento box. He liked it up above, where he could just rest, instead of dominating the school so fiercely.

- When he hears the sound of pattering footsteps traipsing across his sacred grounds, anger thunders down on his face. "To think that such a foolish mongrel would have the nerve to entrench themselves upon my resting area...How dare you-" The words freeze in his throat, as he catches sight of you.

- From your posture, to the expression on your face...Gilgamesh was ensnared within the thorns of captivation!

- "E-err...sorry about that." You bow politely, as wind billows through your beautiful strands of hair, eyes blossoming like the finest of flowers. "You see, I just like to sit here too sometimes." Albeit being rather nervous, you bravely spoke up for yourself, which he liked. "I mean, I can leave if you'd like but I like this place too-" His brusque red eyes catch you off guard, as you duck your head in agony; twiddling your fingers.

- He was so scary!! As you fluctuated between wanting to leave and wanting to stay (because its not as if Gilgamesh owns the school roof or anything), his hands suddenly grip yours- as he pulls you towards him with all the force of a bull.

- "How adorable...how utterly enthralling you are! I never expected to witness such a fine beauty upon these school grounds." Gilgamesh has already latched into his hardcore flirting mode, leaning in awkwardly close to your face. "Mongrel. Tell me your name. NOW."

- Eyes wide with shock, you reluctantly tell him your name, only for him to proclaim that you shall have his interest from now on. "Although you are a beauty, you are naught but a mongrel. If you catch my eye from now on as well, so be it!" He tries to play it cool, but is actually much more interested than he wants to let on. "Take this land for yourself. I have no need for it anymore."

-As he leaves- face beaming with joy- an ominous pit of worry pools in your stomach. You knew the rumors all to well- of how Gilgamesh was pretty tough work, relentless once interested; and the tales of all the people who he had left broken and rejected. 'I'd better pick a god and pray...'

- However, you are greatly surprised by how tame his approach is at first (let's just say that he can be quite a nuisance at times). Besides from randomly slotting the occasional gift atop your desk, and winking whenever you passed him by; Gilgamesh was pacing himself for once.

- Once you nervously asked your friends about this, they reassured you that he wasn't always quite so hardcore as he seemed. "He only pops off once he's fully invested! All the best," Your stomach churned slightly at the idea of that. The amount of expert knowledge they had on his movements were insane. Everybody treated him like a local celebrity!!

- However, all things drastically change once he crosses paths with you during Sports Ed. Bunking off yet another class deemed too banal to entertain him, he strolls through school grounds- only to catch sight of your legs trembling as you parry the horrible sports ed teacher's serves; tears dropping from your eyes- as other students watch blankly on, hoping to avoid eye contact with the situation altogether.

- Once the teacher picks his next unfortunate target, Gilgamesh is surprised to see you rush to the back; only to be taken aback by the next sight lying before him.

- Helping take care of students injured by your demonic excuse for a Sports Ed teacher, you mouth words of encouragement to them, despite clearly shaking with fear yourself. Despite being extremely shy and scared, it seemed as if you were trying desperately to support others, as well.

- "Hoh..." Now he was certainly interested. Slinking back to his private zone, Gilgamesh vows to conduct a little more research on a certain asshole Sports Ed teacher...

- Luck seems to strike the pan, for another huge encounter occurs once he bumps into you at the shoe lockers. The sun slowly sinks across the horizon; dappling the world around you in a bright orange light.

- "You've been evading me so skillfully lately, mongrel. Have my divine offerings been to your liking?" Leaning against your locker, he grins mischievously at you; red irises dancing with amusement.

- "T-the chocolates were nice...but I'm fine without any gifts. So you don't have to bring them anymore." Hugging your plastered hands to your chest, you lower your head. Now just wasn't the time, you were already drained for the day. "I have to go, sorry..."

- Now that was a surprise. Usually people would be dying for his attention, not evading him like this! However, this was exactly to Gilgamesh's liking oh my god. Leaning forwards, he's just about to attempt to set your heart aflutter with some cheesy adages until...

- The Sports Ed teacher bursts in, eyes brimming with rage. "Y/N!!! WHY ARE YOU LATE? All that talk about 'i want to protect my friends', and then you can't even come to club on time, huh? You freaking coward!" By this time, the teacher is gripping you by the arms, as scared tears drop from your eyes, expression frightened.

- Eyes narrowing with disgust, Gilgamesh stares at the events unfurling before him. His research had uncovered a great deal of trash on this teacher, who was infamous for training students way past their limits; bullying them severely for not fitting his ridiculous standards.

- Grabbing the teacher by the scruff of his neck, Gilgamesh forcefully pulls him away from your quivering figure. "How pathetic a troglodyte you are, to be treating your fellow mongrels with such disdain. " Gilgamesh all but hisses into the teacher's ears. "You leave me no choice but to punish you."

- "Punish me? Who the hell do you think you are, you bastard?! I'll suspend you for touching me!" The teacher slaps Gilgamesh's palm away, as you watch them with terror. Things were getting ugly, and fast.

- "I'm Gilgamesh. Remember the name, mongrel- especially once I've casted your meagre buttocks out of this estate." Unveiling his golden-plated phone, a horrifying gleam lights in his eyes as he reveals a huge list of the teacher's misdemeanors. "I know what pathetic things you've been up to...and about your abuse of power. Not that I'd usually care, mind you." However, the teacher had the gall to threaten you. Which basically meant that he was now dead meat?! he was gonna destroy him XD

- Worried, you step in before Gilgamesh can unleash one of his terrifying bribes upon the teacher. "W-wait, Gilgamesh!" As he turns to you-shocked that you'd address him by name, you smile. "I-I think we should have him legally fired instead...but that's just me..." That way, he'd never be able to become a teacher again.

- "Hoh, how kind-hearted of you. Well, I shall honor your rather pitiable request once." Gilgamesh shoos off the bewildered teacher, who looks confusedly between you both. "Fate has bestowed you with generous luck today; you pathetic excuse for a teacher. Depart the premises at once!"

- However, the teacher is extremely prideful; and lunges to attack Gilgamesh- flying so wildly off the mark that he legitimately crashes into the teacher's office nearby. Which alerts all of the teachers of the ensuing scuffle. Which then results in you having to bravely explain the situation...which ends up with the teacher being MIRACULOUSLY FIRED ON THE SPOT?!!!!

- It was as if this chain of events was perfectly orchestrated. As you look towards him with both a mixture of awe and fear, he heartily laughs. "Fuhahaha! Let's just say that Lady Luck favors me quite greatly." That was a lie. Gilgamesh knew much more than he was letting on.

- "Thank you." For the first time, you truly smiled at him; sunlight beaming down on your face. "For a scary tyrant, you can be really helpful sometimes." Those were not the words he was expecting to hear at all! Coughing awkwardly, Gilgamesh puts on a mask of nonchalance to avoid his burgeoning feelings. You weren't meant to say that!!!

- "Fuhn, I wasn't doing it to help you, nor the other pathetic mongrels that troglodyte was bullying. Don't get cocky, lowlife." And with that he was gone, as you waved goodbye.

romancing bit (?!!)

- Seeing as Gilgamesh is now very interested in you, he will most likely make sure to cross paths with you as often as possible; saying all sorts of cheesy and flirty things. He sits with you during break, loudly sipping wine by your side as other students look on with amazement. He also leaves letters and gifts by your desk everyday. The letters are eerily direct, proclaiming ominous things such as 'we shall wed...'

- Overall, he is overzealous and extremely headstrong in his approach, not giving you enough time to breathe. However if you tell him that you feel overwhelmed by his actions, he reconsiders them briefly...only to go over-the-top in different ways instead; hoping that you'll be pleased by his advances. I think Gilgamesh needs to learn more about self-restraint here.

- He'll probably want to take you to many places as well, and try and bowl you over with limited edition experiences; things that are beyond your wildest dreams. He's probably also going to get very serious as well by increasing the time he spends by your side considerably. Expect to see him everyday from now on, too!

- Is he the type to do a shoujo-manga style entrance to sweep you off your feet? Yes. He does helicopter landings every now and then, thrusting a bouquet at you. He also hires people to serenade you at times, much like something out of a romantic novel; and loves seeing your surprised reactions.

- He will get quite pushy at times, so it's recommended to alert him if you're not enjoying it. In his eyes, the two of you are as good as close contemporaries now.

- Exasperated, he finally decides to ask "Mongrel. What is it that you desire? Anything you shall wish for will be in your hands." He's absolutely convinced that he can do anything to win you over. However when you reply with a simple, "...I'd like some help with my studies!" as your adorable cheeks flush with determination, he sighs. There was no winning over you with conventional means. Yet, he is also spurred on by the challenge.

- "Although your response is a terribly common one, I'll oblige you." He certainly will. "With my expertise, you'll be acing all of your classes from now on!" When a color-coded, detailed guide on all of your subjects lands on your desk the next day, as Gilgamesh smiles smugly at you.

- As you flick through the pages, you see detailed notes on all the things you don't understand, and are quite shocked by the quality level of this. "T-this is amazing!" You gasp. "How did you do this?!"

- "I have my sources." He really did. "Mongrel. From now on, I shall stand by your side. Do not hesitate to call upon my assistance if need be." And with that, his word is final.

- I have a feeling that once he likes someone, he'll hold onto them quite tightly, and will do as much as he can to impress them; going out of his way to win their heart.

#gilgamesh #fate series #gilgablog #my writing #fgo #ok this is high school au so its a little tame a little crackfic and a little ooc XD its a light hearted story ^^#this is like an otome game now. it is isnt it.#asks #anon

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lululawrence · 3 years

Text

Wordplay 5.0 Reflections

I dunno what else to call it lmao it doesn't sound right to call this a meme, but whatever it is, here we are! lol @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed came up with these questions after @wordplayfics wrapped up last year and I love them so i'm gonna use them for this year as well.

I'm going to start out with listing the prompts and linking the fics i wrote for each one for everyone's reference, though I'll be linking them again through the answers as well. I'm also putting all the questions and answers beneath a read more because, as usual, I rambled lmao Alright! Here we go!

Struggle: I Said It Wrong, But I Meant It Right Reduce: I Love This Feeling (But I Hate This Part) Divide: He Carries The Key Rise: Thou, Sun, Art Half As Happy Sketch: I Heard You Talking

How did you come up with your ideas for the fics? Can you take us through your process after first receiving the prompt?

I don't know that I have a set way I come up with my fic ideas for Wordplay. It all depends on the prompt and what fic ideas I've got on my "to write list" that might fit that prompt. If nothing on my to write list fits or can be tweaked for a prompt, then I just go through my prompts tag until something strikes me for it, or I just ruminate on the different ways the word can be used and see if something comes up.

So, when I did the random word generator for the first prompt and "struggle" was the word that came up, I immediately thought of "struggle bus". lolllll and when I went looking through my to write list, I saw the girl Payneshaw fic I wanted to write and I was like omgggggg Nick ABSOLUTELY is riding the struggle bus the ENTIRE FUCKING TIME and I knew that was my fic for the week. lmaoooo and there you have it.

What is your favorite fic you wrote for Wordplay this year?

oooohhhh this one is HARD AND MEAN lmaoooo i forgot this was a question asked. okay legitimately i cannot choose a favorite because i'm actually stupidly proud and happy with all of the fics i wrote this year.

If you’ve participated in previous years of Wordplay, what has been your favorite prompt from all years you participated in?

WELP. as the creator of this challenge, i've participated in all 5 years which means there've been 25 prompts i've written. lolllll and honestly i think my favorite prompt is STILL from the first year. it was "bloodsucker". like, how great of a prompt is that???

What was the shortest fic you wrote this year? The longest?

the shortest one this year was... I Said It Wrong, But I Meant It Right at 4381 words.

the longest one was... I Heard You Talking at 10580 words.

What fic of yours surprised you?

i think all of them surprised me in some way. that's part of the joy of writing fics, isn't it? lollll but i think the one that surprised me the most was Thou, Sun, Art Half As Happy. it was a last minute change (i'll elaborate in the answer to the next question haha) and it was a VERY different direction than i had planned. it was all based off of a photo i saw on tumblr, and there was no prompt with the photo. i got to just take in the basic idea of the sticker being placed on a bridge overlooking the city and what might make that spot a good kissing spot.

now, as an ace who doesn't actually ENJOY kissing, i... didn't think about the fact that i would be writing a lot of it. lollll i actually have a super hard time writing kisses and trying to make them varied while also relaying the emotional intimacy of the moment, and then add on top of that the fact that once i started writing the fic, both harry and louis let me know pretty much as soon as words started getting written that they were both genderqueer and that worked differently for each of them, so harry would use they/them pronouns and louis would use he/him still, it just made things more interesting. and the way the fic developed??? like, i had a very vague idea of what would happen in the fic. so the way it actually came about all surprised me.

long answer short, from the very start, this fic surprised me and i was just along for the ride. it was a BLAST and i sure do love it, even if it does have the second lowest hits of all the fics i wrote this year haha

Were there any prompts you struggled to find an idea for?

STRUGGLED HAHAHA sorry. just funny since struggle was a prompt this year. ANYWAY. the prompt i had the hardest time with was defo rise. i've had this fic idea ever since greg james tweeted with shawn mendes months ago about how shawn basically forgot his interview with greg on the breakfast show, so greg had to last minute wing a LOT OF AIR TIME AND SHOW CONTENT and he did a great job, but it brought about some funny content... anyway. that made me wanna write a triad a/b/o fic where greg is louis and harry's beta. rise was going to be used in a lot of different ways through the fic, as well. because breakfast show requires greg to rise from bed early, he gets a rise out of harry and louis with his behavior and overt flirtations with shawn, they have to rise above their jealousy, etc etc etc. i was VERY EXCITED.

except i only had three days i was able to write every week this summer, and those were really really difficult to get. if i wanted to write on tuesday or thursday, i was often curling up with my laptop in a dark room with some caffeine and candles burning to soothe me after the insanity that is my life atm, and write for as long as i could before my brain stopped functioning, which was often only around 30 min. but see, that particularly week was the worst part of my son's 18 month sleep regression, which meant instead of him sleeping and letting me write, i was driving him around or trying to rock him back to sleep or letting him play in an attempt to tire him out etc etc etc and by friday morning i had to admit to myself there was no way i could write that a/b/o fic in my one guaranteed evening to write every week (saturday, btw). so i was suddenly left with around 36 hours to find a new fic idea and develop it enough to be able to write it in one evening.

as i said in the answer to the first question, i usually go to my prompts tag to see what might inspire me with this prompt word in mind, but for this one that wasn't the first place i went. i tried looking at more definitions even though i'd done that earlier and nothing was inspiring me. so i then spoke to several friends and was still having a hard time finding any ideas that felt like something i would enjoy writing and could do so quickly.

by saturday morning, knowing i had less than 12 hours to figure out what i was writing so i could actually WRITE IT in only like 2-3 hours of writing time, i finally sat down and scrolled through my prompts tag. once i did, i saw the photo for the "good kissing spot", and i immediately thought of sunrise. so i ran with it. but i wanted to make it stylinshaw, so how would i work that in, etc etc etc. it was just very fast and very difficult trying to figure out how i would structure it so it could be a fun meet cute kind of fic, but also work into them actually building a meaningful connection etc and... well. it was a lot. haha so yeah, it was just a hard time overall that week, but i'm super proud of it in the end.

Were there any prompts you had an idea for but ended up writing something different? If so, what made you choose to change what you wrote? Do you think you’ll ever write your original idea at a later date?

HA okay well i already answered most of this above, but for the last part of this question, yes i will absolutely write my original idea at a later date. the whole reason i decided not to do it wasn't because i couldn't turn it into a fic that could be written in that one writing session, but because i had hopes for what that fic would be, and i didn't want to shorten and condense it enough to do that. i didn't want to have to lessen the dreams i have for that fic in my head, so i decided i would just put it back on my to write list and save it for later. who knows when, but that fic will absolutely get written.

What do you think was the most difficult as well as the easiest part about the Wordplay Challenge?

most difficult was 100% finding the time to write. that was insanely hard for me all summer, but by the time wordplay was going, things at home had ramped up to being very overwhelming regarding the demands on me and my time, and what i had been doing to carve out some time for myself and writing wasn't working anymore, so i had to adjust even more with the understanding that i was working on a really strict timeline too. so yeah. just finding the time was absolutely the hardest part for me.

easiest part was the actual writing. these fics really flowed from me, outside of the pack fic, that one was actually pretty difficult to make sure i was getting the dynamics exactly the way i wanted to have them turn out, but even with that aspect, it still was like it flowed from me most of the time. these fics really just took over and i was along for the ride. it was a blast.

If you participate again next year, is there anything you’ll do differently? If so, what?

lmao well assuming people still want wordplay to happen again, i'll run it again and very likely will take part. so... with the difficulty i had in finding any time to do anything this summer, i was actually ridiculously stressed when it came to the writing part, but also the modding aspect of it. so i am not sure that i'll run it during the summer again next year. i might have it go during the early fall once school is back in session so i at least have only one child at home instead of three to battle lol so that's one thing i'll hopefully be doing differently.

as for the writing aspect, i don't think so actually. i've done 5 years of this, and i'm having fun with it. haha if i ever find a fic idea i think could work for it, i would consider doing a series for it next year, but it all depends on if there's something i'd like to write that could work for that kind of set up with this challenge.

if you made it this far, thank you for reading!!! xxx

#wordplay 5.0 #writing stuff #my fics #mine

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oftenderweapons · 4 years

Text

Cold Nights — Taehyung

Pairing: Taehyung x reader (nicknamed Lace)

Wordcount: 4.7k words

Genre: (mild) smut, fluff, romance

Rating: suggested 18+

Hi babes! I’m back with the Cold Nights drabbles, and after what happened in Girls’ Night, I think Taehyung’s was the story I wanted to explore the most, since the chemistry between him and Lace felt so natural and the conclusion naturally called for me to pick up the story from there. Although reading Girls’ Night is not necessary (even though I had lots of fun writing it and I selfishly took the liberty to write that before continuing with next prompt), I would highly recommend to read at least the second part, just to get the vibe of these two (you can find it here, btw.).

While Girls’ Night was written with the girls as OCs, in this case we have a classic readerxTaehyung fic.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: this is not explicitly smutty, though there are a few steamy passages (making out, teasing) and heavy flirting (mentions of masturbation). Also, Lace is a domme, as said in Girls’ Night, and the topic is discussed in this drabble too. Reader has pretty much a lot of experience in BDSM (mentions of lessons and club), and has had only one relationship, with a girl. Sexual orientation is discussed. Also, Taehyung shifts from cool kid to cute kid a lot. There’s a sprinkle of sexy driver Taehyung but also soft cuddlebug fluffy Taehyung. You can’t have one without the other, yk.

Wordcount is around 4,7k (I know, a bit long for a drabble BUT I GOT CARRIED AWAY).

Also, here is my masterlist

Enjoy!!!✨

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Watching Taehyung drive was something incredible. He looked like a demigod from Hollywood movies from the Sixties. He was so careless, so undoubtedly timeless, so iconic and unbothered. You wanted a picture.

And his driving was excellent. He was attentive, with a soft driving style, cruising down the half empty streets like a ghost, floating, decelerating with care before coming to a stop. He seemed to stop at yellow traffic lights a lot. He took the pauses to observe you, the way light seemed to shimmer on the silver details of your leather jacket. Rummaging in your handbag, you found your lipstick and mirror, deciding to reapply the cherry tint just because you could.

He stared, mesmerised.

You were so charming.

A diva.

A muse.

He was surprised at how such a small gesture unsettled him so much, making his insides flutter with nerves and arousal. He wondered how many of your ordinary actions could turn him on. He was eager to find out. Write a list. Submit it to your scrutiny. Show you how incredibly sexy you were in his eyes even when simply checking your nails or furrowing your brow in disapproval.

“Do you wanna stay in the car or do you want to take a walk?” He asked as he took a turn.

“Oh, I don’t mind. Your choice.” You said tentatively.

“I think it would sound extremely bad if I told you I know a spot.” He chuckled and you followed.

Looking down, you bit your lip. “I think it would sound extremely bad if I told you I’d like to see your spot.” You looked at him as both your faces tinged with a shy blush and two matching mischievous grins.

“Then we’re heading out, darling.” He said, focusing again on the road.

Apparently his spot was somewhere a bit out of the city, a ten minutes drive away. The winding street led you to a small clearing with a parking lot. You had never visited there, but you noticed an octagonal pavilion. Bukak Skyway, a sign read.

“The sky is a bit clearer here,” He said. “I swear I’m not going to kill you.” He laughed. “Namjoon likes to bike all the way here. It’s a famous spot among cyclists. I have a throw in the backseat. Do you wanna go out, sit on the bonnet?” He asked, trying to break the tension.

You thought about it. Staying in the car meant less chances of being seen. And staying warm. But going out meant Taehyung being way less dangerous; the public situation keeping both of you from doing potentially inappropriate things. “Will people see?”

“Does it bother you, being seen with me?” He asked, frowning, his expression dead serious.

“I don’t want you to get in trouble or people seeing you with a girl, starting rumors.” You shrugged and furrowed your brow.

“There’s maybe six or seven people. It’s dark. I’ll be covered. No one will see, sweetie.” Taehyung reassured you. “But we can stay in the car, if you prefer.”

“Let’s go out.” You said, smiling.

“Great choice.” He pulled out his phone and exited the car, grabbing the blanket he kept in the backseat.

You also exited the car, shivering and hugging yourself at the cold bite of the night air. “Wait.” He called, wrapping the blanket around your shoulders. “We can stay in the car if you prefer.”

“Let’s watch the city lights.” You replied, a bit uncomfortable since you felt your hands reaching out for him, but changing your mind at the last minute.

“Let’s do that.” He walked to the front of his car, propping his hip against the hood. As you walked closer, he held out his hands. “May I help you?” He asked, gesturing at your waist.

You blushed and nodded. “I’m sorry, I’m a bit heavy.”

Still he placed his hands on your waist, over the blanket. “Irrelevant. You’re a lady. Let me treat you like one.” He replied, unfazed before helping you jump and sit on his car. It was low enough that a small jump was all you needed. You fixed the blanket around you before he pushed himself up and sat beside you. The front of the car was right before a short wall, delimiting the parking lot from the street winding a few metres down. The quite steep hill allowed a clear view of the skyline, stretching out in front of you without any obstacle to your sight, Seoul and its towers glimmering in a humanly mirror of the night sky above. “How has it been?” He asked.

“Good. I’ve received a commission for a wedding so I’ve been busy.” You explained. “Plus spring-summer collection has arrived at the store. We’re studying arrangements.”

“Great.” He replied. “I’ve been working a lot too.”

“The girls mentioned your schedules.” You threw in.

“Yes.” He said simply, scrolling on his phone until a soft acoustic song came on. He placed his phone down. He had a playlist for moments like this. He didn’t have one for moments like this with you, but he aspired to build one together. He simply let his favourites play.

“You’ll be leaving for Japan tomorrow.” You said, half a question.

“Yes.” He replied again, looking at the lights of the city below. “The flight is at ten am. We’re leaving the city at eight.”

“And then the tour.” You commented.

He half saw it coming. “Yes.”

You looked at the sky. It felt like an old blanket thrown over your head, so old that bugs had eaten small holes through which light came in. It felt cosy. Domestic. Confidential.

“Is that why you have been running from me?” He asked, raising an eyebrow, placing his palms together and shoving them between his knees to warm his hands.

The blanket was big enough. You scooted closer to him and tucked him in too.

He looked at you, at your small gesture of affection, your eyes meeting. You simply smiled as your arm pressed against his, shoulder to elbow. “I’ll be very honest, Taehyung.”

One more thing about you that turned him on: the way your lips curled around the second syllable of his name.

“I like you.” He said, direct and shameless, spelling the words with such certainty and determination that your heart lost a beat. Seeing it written on screen was nothing similar to hearing him actually say it.

“I like you too.” You replied.

He smiled and looked down, acting like a coy schoolboy.

“However, I think there is stuff you need to know.” You took a small pause to gather and organise your thoughts. “This tour thing scares me. I want to build something strong, something long term. I can’t do flings, Taehyung.”

“It’s okay. We can get to know each other and see if it works.” He replied, already trying to convince you to give him just one chance.

“We don’t have the luxury of time, though. You’ll be gone for how long? Two months?”

“Seven weeks.” He replied composedly and efficiently.

“And we have what? Four weeks between Japan and the Asian tour?”

“I’ll be in Korea until mid-May, then we actually start travelling.” He said, like a scolded puppy.

“That’s five weeks. And I doubt you’ll have time when you’re working for the concerts.” You objected. “You see how awful the timing is?”

“We can take it slow, see each other and hang out. No need for fancy, big things. We can do this.” He said, gesturing at your current location and activity. “No dating, no stuff. Simply getting to know each other.”

You bit your lip, frowning. “I’ll grow fond of you.” You said.

“Isn’t that the final goal?” He asked cheekily.

Your voice shook a little. “I don’t want to get used to you and see you leave.”

His eyes were wide and sweet when he met your gaze. “Well, I can promise you I’ll text, and call, and I know it’s not like being there, but we can use the distance to see how we handle stuff when we’re apart.”

“Isn’t it too early to be apart, a few weeks into a… an acquaintance?” You said, searching for the word.

“We’ll see if we miss each other like friends or more.” He said, trying to make everything sound sane and reasonable.

You looked at the city. How many people were out there, alone? How many girls were dreaming of being right here, right now, with him? “You’re dangerous for me, Taehyung.” You said, already feeling how easily he could manipulate you. “I would let you do wrong things to me. Because I like you that much.” You murmured.

“I promise I would never do anything to hurt you.” He said, turning to fully look at you. “I’ll make sure we don’t cross the line.” He said, and in that moment all the passion and the excitement and the arousal suffocated, tamed in his chest and stomach. It felt like turning an inferno into a candlelight. He would keep hormones at bay to grant himself a chance. He knew how fast the tour could go by. “We’ll go out. On walks. We could do this again, or we could go out early, watch the sunrise from Bukhansan. Whatever. I just wanna spend time with you. Give you a chance to know me.” He nuzzled into the blanket, but he was secretly looking for your perfume, trying to take in all the small details that made you you.

You let the conversation slip before trying to direct it on the topic that was worrying you the most. Gathering your courage, you spoke. “You aren’t curious about my bag, in the apartment?” You asked.

“If you were comfortable with it, you would tell. No need to ask you about it.” He shrugged. “I have nothing against it. I think everyone has their reasons. And there’s nothing strange or shameful about it. You like it? Good for you.” He smiled, not a pinch of malice in his voice or expression.

“I took lessons of several techniques of domming in a BDSM club here in Seoul.”

“So you’re a dominatrix?” Taehyung asked, his expression warm, as if he were asking about your hobby or the weather.

“Yes, but I’m not active anymore. If I wanted, I could be one.” You tried to explain yourself,

“What do you mean?”

“It means I have the technical and practical preparation but I haven’t participated in a scene in a while.”

“How long.” He asked, still chatting about it neutrally.

“About… four months.” You counted them. “Yeah.”

“How did you decide to take lessons?”

You laughed at the memory. “A woman recommended I tried after my yoga classes were disappointing. I started learning and I found out I liked that. Back then I was in a very vulnerable moment. I wanted to enter university and study business, so that I could build a firm out of the atelier, you know. Unfortunately, I didn’t pass. I grew desperate, started eating a lot out of stress and gained a lot of weight. Not only I felt like I was losing my dream but also my reality. I was literally one of those skeletrical models before, and then with all the weight I gained…” You gestured at your body.

“But it helped you, the course I mean.” Taehyung ignored your reference to your body.

“Yes. After a year I was even more confident than when I was skinny and full of dreams. I got healthy again. And with the confidence boost and the new attitude I managed to enter an online university, which was more suitable since I was already working both at the shop and at the club.” You smiled. “Plus I liked the sense of control and peace you need when you’re involved in a scene.”

He nodded. “I’m happy it all worked out.” He nodded some more before his mind produced one more question. “Is domination a non-negotiable aspect of your relationships?” He asked.

“No, I think. My first partner was a girl I had met at the club, but after that I didn’t ever mix the two.”

He didn’t even react to the fact, he simply took it in. He would never judge and he himself was not the type to consider gender a determining factor in terms of sexual attraction. Although he was a bit worried you were attracted to women exclusively. What if you would never like him like that?

You continued. “I had a few dates, never anything serious. And of course, I taught and I took part in scenes at the club, but it never led to sex.” You explained. “Sexual attraction is a tricky concept to me, I think.”

“So you’ve had just one relationship?” He asked, his expression neutral, however his slightly raised eyebrows gave away a bit of surprise.

“Yes.” You replied.

“With a girl?” He asked again.

“Yup.” You confirmed, nodding.

“But you’ve slept with men too, right?” He said.

You grinned. “Are you trying to make sure you’re the first?” You teased.

“I’m just asking. I don’t want to—” He shook his head. “I just need to know that you like me. Sexually speaking.”

You shook your head in disbelief. Little do you know. “I do. I think gender has little to do with actual attraction. I don’t think labels are important.”

“I agree on that.” He said, nodding, biting his lip.

“And I’m really attracted to you.” You took a big breath. “I might say something inappropriate, but—” You laughed embarrassedly. “I don’t mind domming. I like it. I’ve been doing it for a while, I’m familiar and it feels comfortable, but I’ve never felt the kind of attraction that makes me want to bend over backward for someone.” You paused. Took a deep breath. Continued. “Having this thing, with you… It’s something I’m not comfortable with. Because I feel you’re so much stronger than me that I don’t even want to put up a fight.”

He looked at the city.

He looked at you. You were rubbing your hands together out of embarrassment and the night chill. You placed one around the base of your neck, rubbing your wrist with the other in an attempt to warm yourself. You were so unbelievably beautiful.

He tsked and smiled. “Stop beating around the bush, sweetheart. It doesn’t suit you. What do you really want to say?”

You frowned. “I’m not comfortable saying it.” You murmured.

A chill piano piece started playing from his phone, a warm, tender voice of a woman mixing up with it.

“Okay. I can’t make you do it.” He pouted and nodded, looking away in the distance. “You know I’ve liked you since I first saw you. And there’s little you can say or do to push me away.”

You exhaled and tried to explain yourself. This was exactly the reason why Taehyung was dangerous. He asked, you delivered. “I have rarely felt attraction for someone because I’ve rarely found someone stronger, bolder, smarter than me. But then I started talking to you.” You shook your head in disbelief at your own confession. “You make me want to do things I’ve never craved before. And you being more powerful than me makes me want to let you take control.” You took a pause. “It makes me want to submit to you.”

He turned. “Is that why you need time? You want to get used to this?”

He is so smart. So attuned to people’s feelings and thoughts. He might as well be a mentalist.

“Yes.” You confirmed.

“And you want to get to know me to see if you can trust me?” He asked.

“Yes.” You confirmed again.

“I get it.” He nodded. “It must be something new, to see things from a new perspective. You said you feel uncomfortable. Does it make you feel bad, this thing with me?” He asked gently.

“I’m afraid of people finding out of the club, bringing it up, using it against you.” You admitted.

He shook his head. “What are the chances?”

“I used a nickname, and we have strict non-disclosure agreements. The place is often dark and sometimes we use masks, but I couldn’t use those when teaching. Anyway, there are pretty famous and powerful people in the club. I think it’s in everyone’s interest to keep mouths shut. Still.” You shrugged. “I want to protect you, Tae.”

His eyes turned into sweet, dark pools. “I don’t care.” He stated. “For now it’s not an issue. I’ll talk to our lawyer, see if there are any potential troubles with this. We both have the duty to protect each other.” He stated with certainty. “And once we’re sure and if this becomes more, then we’ll find a way.”

You felt warm in your chest. It felt good to be protected. “Thank you.”

“Thank you for opening up, darling.” He caressed your cheek tenderly, smiling at you.

You smiled back and looked down, away from his intense gaze.

He moved his hand away. “So you want to sleep with me?”

You laughed. “Sleeping is not the word I would use, no.”

“Which one?” He said.

“Which one would I use?” You asked, trying to clear up his request. Sometimes he spoke so cryptically.

He hummed in confirmation.

“I would say…” You thought about it. “I would say ‘spend the night’.”

“We could spend the night here. Talking until we have no secrets left to say. The night is amazing for secrets.” He mused.

“What about your flight tomorrow?” You asked, suddenly serious.

“Let’s go back to secrets and spending the night.” He said, trying to make his incumbent dark thoughts evaporate.

“What about them?” You were both staring at the city lights. Seoul felt so far away. Like a hologram. Or maybe like for a moment you had been subtracted from that world. Like you were stuck into a mirror, where nothing really, truly happens. Where people could see possibilities and daydreams, an alternative reality in which everyone could have a fragment of fictitious life. You felt like a mirage, ready to turn into dust, sand and smoke, a bizarre refraction of light.

Taehyung turned and stared at you. “I’m dreaming you won’t disappear, once morning comes. That this won’t be just a fantasy.”

It all turned even less real when his phone started playing a ballad about lights and stars.

“I won’t disappear.” You whispered back.

He looked at the city. “I need to tell you a secret.”

You turned with an arched eyebrow and an upturned pout.

Adorable, he thought. He leaned in towards your ear. “I’ve been asking myself if you had a fling with Namjoon and Vixen for the whole night. It feels good to hear that you like me.”

You were so close. Apparently being out in the open air, in a very public space had done little to keep things appropriate.

“I have a secret too.” You whispered, so close to his face. To his lips. You leaned in closer to his ear. “I have no fling with them. I’ve had no one for months. Years, if you exclude the scenes at the club — and I never had sex during those — and I’ve never had a man. I can’t wait to feel ready to give in to you. I promise I just need some time. Be patient and I’ll make it worthy. I swear.” You confessed, so raw with emotion.

He looked at you, inscrutable at first; then his face melted with wonder and joy. “All the time you need, darling.”

You smiled.

You both turned to look at the city. And then you turned to look at him. He was so beautiful. Glowing. Happy. Meditative and cool, like an indifferent god. Like Seoul could suddenly switch off with a general black out, and he wouldn’t even notice. He would just smile and cheer for the stars glowing brighter.

“I have another secret, Taehyung.” You murmured. He simply brought his ear to his lips, his gaze still focused away. You licked your lip and whispered, “I feel like if you kissed me now, I would literally glow in happiness.”

He turned to look at you. “Isn’t it going too fast?” He asked before shaking his head. “I mean, I don’t want you to regret this.”

“I’m sure.”

He looked in the distance again. You frowned and took it as a ‘no’.

And then he turned, cupping your cheek, rubbing his thumb against your cheekbone. His hand could cover half of your face. It was enormous. You didn’t let your brain go that way. “I’m going to be sweet. Stop me whenever.” He murmured, before pecking your lips with his.

It was so short and light you almost didn’t feel it. Still, the tingling on your lips was a living trace of it, like stardust had inadvertently brushed over your skin. His body turned into a furnace beside you, or maybe you had suddenly warmed up when he pressed his lips to yours more insistently. “I’m gonna go harder at this.” He spoke on your lips.

Fuck, it was so sweet of him to tell you. He felt so gentle. Even when he started nibbling on your lower lip, encasing it between his lips, sucking it gently before pecking your mouth with his. The moment you held his upper lip between yours, tugging at it gently with your teeth, he lost control and moaned, letting your tongue tease the tip of his. His hand disappeared into your hair, pulling you close. His mouth forced yours to open as your lips crushed together, your tongues intertwining in a sensual and suasive dance made of twirls and small licks. Your hand flew to his hair, caressing his nape, the other one meeting his waist, turning him towards you.

Your whole body was on fire. The night felt so alight, so filled with possibilities now that even this was happening, too. It felt like the most appropriate time to begin something in the quiet and secrecy that the loving, protecting darkness allowed you.

His right hand appeared on your thigh, placed there gently, not gripping, not exploring. Simply staying, existing in that strange, assertive way Taehyung exists, like he is a totem standing in the middle of time and space, piercing them together, one to the other.

Your breath was laboured once you parted. His hand moved up, to your waist. He couldn’t resist from feeling the fleshy, material reality of this late night daydream, its real consistency. He let you breathe, nudging his lips against yours. “Another.” He whispered, diving in again.

And you let him. If this was the way he intended to do things with you, hell yes, you would let him.

His lips were soft, wet and warm, perfect around yours. He started alternating between your lower and upper lip, his hand finally grabbing the flesh of your waist, tugging you into him.

You pulled at the hair on his nape delicately, trying to part from him. It felt atrocious but it was necessary. Your judgement was beginning to get clouded. You should stop. “Tae, baby. Let’s take a moment.”

He nodded, pressing his forehead to yours and parting from you with a small peck on the corner of your mouth. “Sorry.” He murmured.

“Nothing to be sorry about. It feels amazing.” You smiled, caressing him on his neck. “I’m just cold. And I think it’s better if I head home before I do stuff I could regret.”

He looked a bit lost. “Would you regret getting carried away with me?” He asked, worried.

“No.” You replied without hesitation. “And that’s the problem.” You kissed his lips chastely. “But getting carried away is different from trusting you and willingly, consciously giving you everything I have.” You kissed him again, caressing his hair off his forehead, fixing his beanie. “And that’s the way I want it with you.” You bent to his ear. “I want to say ‘yes, sir’ to your every request. I want you to do to me everything you want. I want you to own me so fully that I’ll beg you to use me for your pleasure.” You whispered in his ear, slowly, the words getting tangled up in a net that you hoped would capture him and convince him.

His deep moan made you chuckle lightly, brushing your mouth against his. At this, his tongue lashed out, the tip curling around your lower lip. “I’m so drunk on you.” He growled. “I want you so much.”

You shook your head faintly, touching his face, the light stubble giving you the strange certainty that he was real, there, in front of you. “I know. I promise I’ll repay your patience in kind.” You looked at him intensely, trying to show him just how much you wanted him too. “I’ll repay generously, too.”

His eyes closed, his face nuzzling into your neck. “I don’t want to let you go just yet. I’m afraid this will turn out to be a one time thing.”

As your earring got caught in his beanie, you had a sudden eureka. “Sit up, Tae.” You said gently.

He got wide eyed and pouty for a second before wearing his poker face and obeying your command. Cupping his face, you smiled at him. “Let me.” You caressed his cheeks as you moved your hands away, bringing them to your earlobe and unlatching one of your earrings. It was a simple pearl surrounded by small rhinestones. Carefully you moved it to his naked ear, delicately pushing the needle through the tiny hole, securing it in the back with the clasp.

Looking at him, you smiled, biting your lip. “You’ll give it back on our next date.” You said, blushing softly, looking at him through your lashes.

Slowly his lips curled up, forming the cutest shy smile you had ever seen.

“My pretty boy.” You said, fixing the small lock of hair coming out of his beanie and framing his face. He wrapped his arms around your middle and hid his face in your neck.

“Thank you.” He said, simply.

“It’s okay, tiger cub.” You quipped back playfully.

Still blushing, he parted from you. “We should go, you’re shivering.” He said, jumping off the bonnet. “Come on.” He grinned at you.

God, you had a crush.

You followed him, still wrapped in his blanket, quickly opening the car and sitting, rubbing your hands together to muster some warmth to them.

He entered next to you and started the car, turning the AC on. He reached across the seats, grabbing your hands and rubbing them in his. “We should have stayed in.” He whispered.

“But the view...” You objected.

He smiled, bringing your joined hands to his lips, placing small kisses all over them. His lips were so hot.

“You’re right.” He smiled, placing your hands on his knee as he looked around, backing the car out of the parking lot and starting your drive back home. “You should insert your address on the GPS.” He murmured, his eyes glued on the road ahead.

“You sure? I can take pub—”

“Don’t you even dare. I’ll be sleeping on the plane. I can drive you.” He rumbled.

You raised your eyebrows and did as he told you.

“It’s just ten minutes from the dorms. Fifteen from my apartment.” He commented, noticing your address.

You shrugged and hid into your shoulders. “Thank you for driving me.”

“I’m being selfish.” He grinned, his eyes still on the road. “This way I’ll have you close for longer.”

Grinning, your sank into the seat. The drive was uneventful. Your left hand moved back onto his knee, his hand joining yours every now and then.

Seeing your building appear brought a bit of disappointment. You had grown used to the warmth of the car, the low background music, the comfort of the fabric of his jeans under your palm.

“This is yours?” He asked, looking at the small five-floor building with a restaurant down below.

You hummed in approval.

“Any parking spot close?” He asked. “I only want to accompany you to your door. No fancy business.” He promised.

“There’s the alley — wait left now!” You announced hurriedly.

He did so quickly. The neighbourhood was quiet and thankfully the sudden turn didn’t cause any inconvenience.

Still, he managed to drive smoothly, finding a row of parked cars and following the order. “Here we go.”

You grabbed your bag and moved the blanket on the seat as you exited the car.

He quickly moved around the car, grabbing your hand. “I don’t think anyone will see us. Or recognise me.” He said, following your lead.

“Here we are.” You said, awkwardly standing in front of the entrance to your building in a slight penumbra which eased your nerves a little.

“When will I see you again?” He asked eagerly.

“After Japan.” You said, smiling.

“We’ll be back Thursday next week, around midday.” He said. “Would you be free in the afternoon? I have a friend in a gallery who could book us a late private tour.” He explained.

You laughed and tried to recall your shift. You could find an agreement with your colleagues anyway. “Then I’ll see you on Thursday.”

“Good.” He said, with his signature serious look.

Just to give him a sweet goodbye, you leaned forward, pressing your lips to his, without allowing him to deepen the kiss.

“Oh, come on.” He whispered, chasing your mouth with his, eyes closed. “More.” He whined.

You let him. His mouth met yours again, both his and your lips immediately parting to melt in that same scorching desire. Your arms were already wrapping around his frame.

“Let me go.” You murmured.

“You let me go, miss octopus.” He teased. You stayed in each others arms for a few seconds, your bag abandoned at your feet. You stared in silence before he spoke. “I’ll be thinking about this all night.” He said, cupping your nape and pressing a bunch of small kisses on your mouth.

“Me too.” You moved your lips closer to his ear. “My hands will probably be between my legs while I do so.”

He snarled and groaned against your ear. “You’re a tease.” His hand palmed your hip heavily. His voice was husky when he spoke again. “Am I allowed to think of you when I touch myself?” He asked.

You chuckled and exhaled seducingly along the crook of his neck. “As long as you tell me what you were thinking about when you cum.”

He exhaled a breathy laugh. “We’re taking this slow, I see.”

“I can’t go any slower with you.” You looked into his eyes, releasing your arms from around him. “Sweet dreams, tiger.” You said, saluting him and picking up your bag before entering your building.

“Goodnight, nymph.” He replied, shaking his head in disappointment and at the same time smiling at your teasing nature.

You both stayed up all night, thinking about the night you’ll be finally staying up together.

#bangtan sonyeondan #BTS Blog #bts fic #bts drabble #taehyung drabble #taehyung fanfiction #taehyung scenario #taehyung x reader #taehyung imagine #kim taehyung x reader

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mariolucario493 · 5 years

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A Frozen 2 review no one asked for! (POSSIBLE SPOILERS AHEAD)

Okay, hear me out. I’m probably in the minority when I say this, but...

I think it’s better than the first one.

I liked the original Frozen just fine. I liked how it depicted anxiety and how it subverted a lot of Disney tropes, but I probably wouldn’t put it in my top ten.

(Which, in case you’re interested, is:)

10. Tarzan

9. Aladdin

8. Beauty and the Beast

7. Frozen 2 (this one!)

6. Lilo & Stitch

5. Wreck-it Ralph

4. Moana

3. The Lion King

2. The Hunchback of Notre Dame

1. Zootopia

(And that’s not even including the Pixar ones.)

But it seems that the general consensus of Frozen 2 is the same as a lot of sequels (especially Disney sequels): that it’s not as good as the first one. Or, dare I say it, that it’s just the first one all over again. But here’s my argument against that. I think being similar to the first one actually works in its favor.

What do I mean by that? Well, after the prologue, the movie opens with a song called “Some Things Never Change,” in which all the characters sing about how happy they are in their current life. Although Olaf worries that change might be inevitable (I love how woke he’s become, btw), no one is really seeking anything new. Now that sounds like the setup for a lot of recent Disney movies, I know. But it's an idea that’s really explored throughout the entirety of the movie.

Every character reacts to change differently. Elsa is nervous, but tries to embrace it anyway; Olaf dismisses it as something he will understand when he’s older; Kristoff feels like he and his friends are drifting apart; and Anna struggles to accept it overall. And we see how each of them goes through it. Even the inclusion of darker themes allows the audience to react similarly to the characters onscreen. Kids probably won’t always understand what’s going on; but they’ll have a good time anyway. And just like Olaf, they’ll understand it when they’re older. That does seem to be one of the major criticisms I’ve seen for Frozen 2, that it’s too dark and too complicated for kids. But Disney’s never been afraid to tackle heavy subjects before, because they know that challenging the audience helps them grow. And hey, at least it’s not Crimes of Grindelwald, right?

I think the reason they made Frozen 2 similar to Frozen 1 was the same reason they used similar themes in Frozen 1 that we were already familiar with - princesses, magical kingdoms, curses, goofy sidekicks. And that’s to deconstruct and subvert them. In fact, I might even go so far as to say that this was an attempt to remind Disney to always try new things, which they have had trouble with recently. Just look at all those live-action remakes that no one asked for. The exact same thing all over again disguised as something new, but without all the stuff that made the originals so good in the first place.

Frozen 2 also continues the tradition of having interesting female protagonists. Well, interesting ANIMATED female protagonists, anyway. It’s not like the Aladdin remake, where Jasmine has a whole new song about girl power, but then she becomes the damsel in distress anyway and does nothing to fight back. It’s not like Captain Marvel, who makes a big deal about being a female superhero even though the Avengers already have several much more interesting female members. It’s not like the new Star Wars movies, in which they’re so focused with making Rey a strong female role model that they forget to give her a personality. And it’s not going to be like the Mulan remake, which I’m just going to assume is going to be another soapbox feminist’s wet dream. Oh, wait, I forgot this is Tumblr, and they love that shit.

But really. Starting with Tiana, Disney’s animated leading ladies have become such well-written characters. From Rapunzel to Vanellope to Judy Hopps to Moana to Elastigirl, they are fully fleshed-out characters first and agenda pushers second. Anna and Elsa are no exception. Elsa battles magical spirits and tames a water horse, and Anna has a crisis of ethics that feels really genuine. All without saying something dumb like “Look how capable I, a female, am in this situation, in comparison to my less competent male companions.”

Oh, by the way, for those of you who wanted Elsa to be revealed as a lesbian, I think we have a few more hints that she may be. She does not end up with a love interest, but I noticed she does seem to get along really well with Honeymaren. So maybe? Definitely better than the live-action Beauty and the Beast, am I right?

Oh, and the songs are great. We get not one, but TWO big numbers from Idina Menzel. Olaf and Kristoff both get new songs that are pointless, but still really funny. Anna has a new song that is one of the emotional highlights. The lyrics are just as clever, and they help further each character’s story arc. Even the lame pop versions of the songs over the end credits, which I usually DESPISE; hearing Imagine Dragons’ cover of “Into the Unknown” was actually pretty decent.

So, those darker themes. The reveal that one of Anna and Elsa’s ancestors was a genocidal tyrant who built the dam as a way to restrict the Northuldra tribe’s resources, and then declared war on them. Pretty ballsy, I have to say. And pretty creative that the villain of this movie is a character who is already dead before the movie even begins. Kind of like Coco, but they don’t even interact with him as a spirit or anything. What I like about this is that it kind of explains why the father in the first movie didn’t always do the right thing when it came to raising his kids. Locking up one of your daughters because she has supernatural abilities seems like a terrible move. But when you consider that Agnarr’s father was also distant from his son and had the goal of suppressing magic, you realize that it may have been a subconscious choice on his behalf. And hey, it’s also revealed that the reason Agnarr left on the ship that would eventually be his grave was to find answers about Elsa. So he probably felt remorse about it.

And now it’s time to compare this movie to today’s political climate. And before you start typing about how I’m wrong like Tumblr users are prone to do, maybe take a hint from the first movie and let it go. This is just my personal analysis.

The Northuldra tribe is clearly inspired by the Sami, the indigenous people of Norway, who have been persecuted for generations. But I don’t know much about Norwegian history, so let’s just compare it to America. Now let’s see...does America have a history of persecuting its indigenous population and disguising acts of war as offerings of peace? Hey, didn’t this movie come out just a week before Thanksgiving?

That’s right, I’m going there. Come to think of it, this whole movie radiates Thanksgiving vibes. It’s set in autumn, and it opens with everyone having a big feast with pumpkins and stuff.

King Runeard is a historical figure within Arendelle, and he is considered a hero. The dam that Runeard built is a monument that is ultimately destroyed by Anna in the film’s climax. And Anna initially refuses to do so because she believes the dam represents all that her kingdom stands for. I might be crazy, but this reminds me of how people are starting to take down statues of Confederate soldiers or how many cities have stopped recognizing Columbus Day as a national holiday, despite others saying that they are important parts of our heritage. One of the lines in “Some Things Never Change” is “Arendelle’s flag will always fly.” Sounds kind of like those conservative nuts who think the American flag is an infallible symbol and anyone who disrespects it (say, by taking a knee during the national anthem) is not a true patriot. Might be grasping at straws with that one.

And what Anna decides to do ultimately makes Arendelle a better place, even though she worries that it will be an unpopular decision. So we have a person in a position of political power who puts aside her own hubris for the good of her people. She asks for nothing in return, and knows that the right choice is not the easy one. She destroys a physical bridge, but builds a metaphorical one. Anna really is the type of leader we need. And if you think that it’s ethnocentric that a white person saves the day for a minority, remember that Anna and Elsa are actually half Northuldran on their mother’s side.

Yes, I believe Frozen 2 is up there with Zootopia as one of the great Disney flexes on right-wing extremists. But it’s subtle enough that we can enjoy the characters, the music, and the story first; and the message second. It reminds us to step outside our comfort zones and to always think about what it means to do the right thing.

If you didn’t like the first Frozen, you probably won’t enjoy this one either. I can understand what people mean when they say the movie throws a lot at you and doesn’t always feel focused on a coherent story. But regardless, I think it is an important movie.

#frozen 2 #disney #review #anna #elsa #olaf #kristoff #sven

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subloganrights · 6 years

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A list of prompts...

...from the asks of my old sanders sides smut blog that I will never get around to writing for one reason or another, so, feel free to take them and use them in whatever way you want. (And feel free to tag me too)

[Sorry if any of these prompts are yours, yes some are very old, but I’ve either had no inspiration for them, dislike the ship for it now (in the case of prinxiety prompts), I simply have been unable to write them, or I’ve got something very similar already in the works]

prompt: patton x virgil with a daddy kink and some spanking? maybe patton punishing him for being bad or talking back-- or for teasing him to much. (i love the headcanons where patton is secretly kinky and that his entire personality changes in bed--) this is my first time asking for a prompt on a smut blog so sorry if its to kinky (or not kinky enough-- )

Prompt: Virgil taking care of Patton, not necessarily because Patton needs it, but because Virgil wants to. Virgil kissing, cuddling, praising, and loving on Patton (NSFW). Maybe body worship?

Prompt: Virgil accidentally bursting out to Roman: "I just had the weirdest dream about you and now i can’t stop imagining what you’d look like naked"

“Tie my jacket around your waist? Gross-! Just because you couldn’t hold it doesn’t mean I have to get my clothes soiled, too.” Virgil is the one who pissed himself, he washing his jacket or something already so he asked for Roman's jacket.

Prompt: “If you hadn’t drank so much everytime we go somewhere, you wouldn’t have had this problem…” if you’re up for it maybe Princiety? Thank you! I love your writing so much ❤️

Prompt: Sugardaddy au, Moxiety - Virgil is an art major at college and he wants to become an art teacher, but it's really hard for him because of his anxiety. He has a job that doesn't pay too well, but it's okay and he does art commissions for money, but he doesn't sleep or eat enough and is constantly stressed. So when he meets Patton and they get to know each other, Patton offers to be his Sugardaddy, but Virgil refuses. He always has been always will be. Patton continues to insist.

oneshot: virgil goes to see roman in a show and roman sneaks him backstage and dresses him in a costume and fucks virgil in it and makes him cum multiple times

Prompt: so Idk if you've looked at the omorashi tag recently put there us a post ralking about 'voodoo bladder control' and I was wondering if you could write a fic witg roman controlling virgil's bladder all day and V just losing it because "oh my God roman pleaseeee" but he can't do anything cause the group is spending time together and virgil is so embarrassed. I hope this makes sense, also love your blog btw it's amazing💙💙

Prompt: Three of the Sides tied down, vibrating cock rings on each of them. The one Side not tied up is dominating them all, teasing them further and further till all of them are begging messes. Each one tied down trying to please the dom the most so that they could finally cum.

Plz write a fic (or hc you choose fam) of the dom pat wanting sub Virge to scream for him. I beg💜

Fic prompt: strong Patton and needy verge. Virgil's a jittery mess and he needs something but getting off alone isn't helping. Que Pat walking in on the writhing whining mess that is virgil on the bed and just instantly picks him up. Of course this causes him to wrap his legs around the elder side. Long story short pat fucking him hard up against the wall is exactly what he needs 💜

Prompt: Remy and a side of your choosing indulging in some mild bondage and somnopholia

Prompt anon here sorry I haven't been online until now. I'm used to people /wanting/ vague prompts so I'm sorry for that. Maybe some moxiety with Virgil asking/begging Patton to do something and getting told to do it himself. (I.e., wanting to be fucked and ending up riding Patton and doing the work etc)

Prinxiety Prompt: "You look so helpless. How does it feel not having the upper hand?" When Virgil decides that he's gonna top Roman, and Roman talks a big game about how Virgil don't break him but uhh...... He breaks

Hello again! I’m the somnophilia Logince anon. Okay so maybe Logan and Roman are cuddling and then Roman ‘falls asleep’ and somehow tells (maybe Morse code or something) Logan that he wants to do this so Logan just sucks roman off and whispering ‘please don’t wake up’

Can you do a fic where Patton makes Virgil wear a vibrator and has a control for it and loves to set it off at random times?... Sometimes even in public. He does it when he doesn't listen to him. Virgil tries not to be turned on or react buuuut it doesn't work.

OH OKAY basically Logan and Roman are arguing about who can do things better and it goes from “i can make decisions better than you” to “at least I’m better at kissing” and then all the way to “i ride dick better than anyone” and it’s very sexually and frustration charged but ends happily post orgasms

prompt: Patton taking Virgil's virginity and it just being really soft and sweet 💕

Then could you do some logince knifeplay? Like power bottom Logan riding Roman who’s tied up and he’s using the (dull sided) knife and saying stuff like “Be still, we wouldn’t want to cut up that pretty face of yours.” And “How defenseless you look, a daring prince in the face of danger, moaning and whining for more.”

Omo prinx anon - I just really like the idea of Virgil flipping it around on usually dom roman, both of them surprised at how much they enjoy it. I’m new to omo? So I’m not sure. But maybe some light restraints? Praise/degradation? Roman being the bigger stronger one but Virgil is still completely in control?

Virgil and Patton go out to the mall, and Virgil waits too long to go to the bathroom, and the nearest one is out of order.

Fic: Patton making Virgil his pretty kitty, complete with a tail, ears, and a collar.

Prompt: Logan stressed out by school/finals/homework that one of the others fuck him to relax him enough to sleep.

Hcs or Prompt. Roman and Vergil sharing ice cream. Vergil flicks a spoonful of ice cream on Roman's shirt. say "Guess we gotta remove that shirt." Roman then smears a spoonful of ice cream down Vergil's cheek and across his shoulder. He then licks and sucks his way back up to vergil's mouth.

Yee! A few I have: Virgil gets scared/anxious and doesn’t realize it but he wets himself out of fear? (Could also work for Patton too) Or, on a lighter note, Roman or Patton giggling so hard they wet themselves. :3 (I blame my friend for that last one). Do with them what you wish my pal. -DA

If requests are open, is it possible for you to write a fake-rape prinxiety fic? Consensual non consent or whatever, with dom Virgil? ~ 💛

So um I'm not a fan of omo but prompt: Patton reminding everyone to stay hydrated and when they don't listen, Patton going all Dom on them forcing them to drink water and then things get messy and omo ensues

Logince and some accidental bondage + some sleepy sex (waking up to a blowjob and being so tangled in the sheets that they're technically restrained)

I'd die for some Remy getting recked, probably by Roman after he was done of the other's pettiness. Basically the prince trying to tame the brat (?) - Cal

when you have a chance could you do something with virgil getting wrecked, maybe by deciet and sleep, maybe have him cry alittle? Thanks you

Prompt: Roman and Logan deciding to shop online and the first thing to pop up on Romans computer is porn. Graphic porn. They decide to... recreate it - new ask sender whom you can call Louise

roman having a collar that says property of virgil or summin, and virgil finds it and ro is embarrassed but virge loves it!! also like. us petplay enthused fanders are having a field week

Prompt: Roman in a skirt in a train, Logan is with him. Ends up fucking him in public while on the train with a few people here and there in the car.

It's slightly odd but like, reverse daddy kink where Virgil is the one who likes being called "Daddy", along with bondage and a Pat being very loud and whimpery. You can choose the situation

#sanders sides smut #not safe for sanders #prompt #prompts #shut up el #important #smuttysanderssidestwopointoh #smuttysanderssides

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thecloserkin · 6 years

Text

book review: Jeannette Ng, Under the Pendulum Sun (2017)

Genre: Gothic fantasy

Is it the main pairing: Yes

Is it canon: Yes

Is it explicit: No

Is it endgame: Yes

Is it shippable: It is lit

Bottom line: HOW IS THIS BOOK EVEN REAL. When they put me in the ground I hope they bury me with a copy of this book so I can read it in the afterlife.

Miss Catherine Helstone, a clergyman’s daughter, sets sail for the infidel lands where her brother Laon is a missionary and from whence his letters home have grown increasingly cryptic and erratic. The twist is, he’s not spreading the Good Word in India or Africa or the New World — he’s in Fairie asdfgkkjkdfjdk. Catherine hasn’t seen him in three years. She’s so worried about him that she strong-arms the Missionary Society of London into bankrolling her ticket to Arcadia, on the grounds that the previous guy who held the post met a messy & mysterious end, and she is the properest person to prevent the same fate befalling Laon. Because she’s highkey in love with him. Well, that revelation takes half the book to unfold, however the opening line is “My brother and I grew up dreaming of new worlds.” For the first 25% of the book she doesn’t even lay eyes on Laon, she just shows up in Arcadia and stays in his house while he’s gone on some unspecified errand. And what a house it is.

I feel like I’ve spent my whole life reading about impossibly grand, potentially sentient haunted houses. Such houses are drenched in secrets. You need a first-person narrator to really experience the affect of the house, preferably someone who’s unfamiliar with the setting and disoriented by the mind games it plays: Jane Eyre in Mr. Rochester’s house leaps to mind. Jane Eyre btw nearly marries her first cousin to take up the missionary life with him (before deciding to go back to Rochester). See, the reason Jane’s cousin proposed to her was because ties of blood were thought to be not strong enough to bind—when you’re out in the field converting heathens you need an acknowledged romantic attachment. So the fact that Cathy follows her brother to Arcadia tells you everything about how important he is to her. She would have followed him to perdition. Think of that immortal Sylvia Plath quote: I love him to hell and back and heaven and back, and have and do and will.

To return to the subject of incest in haunted houses: The Fall of the House of Usher? Atmospheric, creepy af, but the implied relationship is presented decidedly unsympathetically. The Thirteenth Tale? The incest is canon but you are not supposed to be rooting for the incestuous couple. Crimson Peak? She’s mentally ill and it’s not even the fucked-up kind of shippable a la Jaime/Cersei. Flowers in the Attic? Shippable, but the dubious consent squicks me out. A Spell of Winter? Comes closest, in that they were 100% in love, but it was a situational in love if you know what I mean—where is my tormented passion with 200 pages of obsessive pining??? Now do you see why I lost my fucking mind when I read Under the Pendulum Sun? I have been waiting for this book for MY ENTIRE GODDAMN LIFE.

Laon may be absent from the house, but he is very much present in Cathy’s thoughts. She can’t go five paragraphs without mentioning some innocuous detail, fondly remembered from their shared childhood.

In youth, I had shared Laon’s restlessness. University had only nourished and nurtured his ambitions, but education had stifled mine. I had been taught to tame my wild impulses and desires that had agitated me to pain. I had folded it with my soul and learnt to drink contentment like you would a poison. Drop by drop, day by day. Until it became tolerable.

If this isn’t shades of Cersei & Jaime, mirrors cracked by patriarchy!!! Seriously this is exactly how Cersei must have felt, after 8 years of crossdressing in each other’s clothes, the day the master-at-arms put a sword in Jaime’s hand and she got… what, embroidery? Cathy cried the first time Laon went off to Latin & Greek lessons without her. He smuggles his books to her afterwards, of course, and they do spend plenty of time poring over the classics together. But it’s not the same as being granted that education in her own right. In the great tradition of clergymen’s daughters, Cathy is “genteel enough to be educated and accomplished, but never useful. Caught between the world of labour and that of letters,” she goes on to become a lady’s companion and later a governess—which for a gently-reared lady is a kind of social death. Jane Fairfax in Emma certainly saw it that way. Wellborn women generally embark upon the vocation of governess as an avenue of last resort. Which is to say, there’s not a lot of scope for independent ambition for a girl in Cathy’s position. She’s twenty-five when she comes to Arcadia, and what is incredible is not that she doesn’t mention any suitors or romantic dalliances but she doesn’t even mention any friends by name. It’s like her whole world is Laon, her thoughts are consumed by him, her memories are dominated by him. It must have been very lonely growing up on the Yorkshire moors.

When I was young and I walked on the moors with Laon, I could not imagine a wilder place, given over to nature. The biting chill in our faces and the mists hanging over the endless, treeless dales. We chased each other, through the rippling heather, through ruined farmhouses. We would pretend that we were the only people left alive in the world.

And so, here I was: clutching the compass he had left behind, knot tightening within my heart, under the light of the pendulum sun.

Mark that metaphor of the knot tightening around her heart—it will continue to crop up. She’s been in love with him a long time, even if she won’t admit it to herself. Ffs he left her a compass when he took up his missionary duties, and if that isn’t a metaphor for his heart I dunno what is.

Laon and I used to play games, scaring each other under the sheets … I still remember huddling against him, hooking our fingers together and promising under every token that we held sacred that if one of us were to die, we would come back and haunt the other.

This is at once wholesome and macabre—they would give up heaven and hope of salvation in order to HAUNT the other as a GHOST because they’re that scared of being separated from each other? ICONIC.

I longed to hear my brother’s sermons again. He had a passion that surged under the measured cadence of his voice and, more than that, I had begun to miss his discordant singing.

She misses his sermons! She misses his voice even if he can’t carry a tune! She misses everything about him!

I missed Laon. I used to tickle him in church to keep him awake. All too often, we’d giggle and bicker under our breaths until our father cast us a stern gaze from the pulpit and we’d silence. I’d keep holding his hand, though, as he needed my nails in his palm to not fall asleep.

He would reach across the table and wind my hair behind my ear. Reaching for a pin to secure the distracting hair, I told myself that it was nonsense to miss the softness of his touch or the stroke of his fingers.

That night, I dreamt. Laon and I were children again, when his hands were no bigger than mine. We were running, tumbling through the heather …

I tried to imagine his voice. I remembered the curve of his ears against my lips and the warmth of his hands in mine. We had not laced together our fingers for a very long time. He didn’t even shake my hand before he left.

This girl sure spends a lot of time thinking about holding her brother’s hand!!! Here the text begins to tease at the rupture that happened before he left, and the non-supernatural causes of their long estrangement. Oh here she is asking theologically thorny questions of her tutors at boarding school:

My palms stung for days afterwards as I was whipped for impertinence. I gritted my teeth through the pain as I wrote to Laon about it, my letters curling all wonky.

Awwww he’s her #1 confidante, the one she turns to for comfort and validation. It’s been tough not having him around these last few years:

More than ever, I missed Laon. I wanted to tell him about this, to press my forehead against his and whisper to him what I knew like old secrets shared in the dark under blankets and sheepskins.

It’s just that everyone seems to take Cathy for granted—offhand she says she’s darned more socks than educated young minds—and Laon is the only one who sees her and values her. Every memory of their childhood closeness is somehow sweet as well as mega suggestive?! Here are some more super suggestive lines:

”You don’t only ever want things you could have.”

”It is dangerous eating forbidden foods.”

That last line refers to the well-known injunction against mortals eating or drinking anything while sojourning in the faerie realm: Once you taste fae food the Fair Folk get to keep you forever. In the mythology of this story, it’s okay to eat as long as you sprinkle salt on it first. You have to put salt in everything you consume, though, even your hot chocolate—just another reminder that Arcadia is inhospitable and alien and if you set one foot wrong your soul is forfeit. For the moment Cathy is confined to the manor, because there’s a geas that guarantees her safety on the property but not beyond it. So she wanders around this creepy-ass house that features doors into empty air, lanterns guttering out, moths that eat away the ink on your parchment. The other inhabitants include: A ghostly housekeeper she never sees, a gnome handyman lately converted to Christianity, and a changeling fae girl who Cathy suspects to be her brother’s mistress. Cathy obtains the journals of Reverend Hale—the priest who preceded Laon—and sets to work deciphering them.

My brother’s house became to me a place of questions without answers.

Later on, when Laon returns, he straight up begs her to leave it alone:

”Don’t do this,” he pleaded. “Don’t try to solve this place. It won’t end well.”

This, of course, is the sort of admonition ignored by the heroine of every Gothic romance—warnings destined to fall on deaf ears as she plunges ahead to unravel the mystery. Ok but let’s talk about the scene where Laon comes back, encounters Cathy and concludes she is a PHANTOM conjured up to torment him:

”If you are trying to seduce me, spirit, I’m afraid I’m quite incapable at the moment.” “I … I am your Cathy. Your sister.”

But of course any spirit would take the form of his sister, the person dearest to his heart. “Seduce” is an interesting word choice, isn’t it? But listen to the way she says “your Cathy”!!!

”Why do you plague me so? Does it please you to see me like this? Have you tortured me enough?” ”Is it so impossible that I am indeed your sister? Can you not believe that I could and would follow you? Can you not believe that I have the strength and the love to come? Can you not believe that I would care—“ “Catherine!” His walking stick clattered to the floor.

And then he TAKES HER IN HIS ARMS. They fall down and roll around, his face muffled in her shoulder, and she “dared not look at him” which is code for “if I look at him I will kiss him” until they’re interrupted by a servant and guiltily spring apart. She’s so glad to have him back. Listen to the easy way they tease each other:

”Oh, hush, you are nothing like Lord Byron.” I took the page from him. “Your poetry is abysmal.” “Exactly like him then,” said Laon.

I SNORTED.

”You used to crawl into my bed when there was thunder. I was always fairly sure it was just an excuse, you would fall asleep so quickly when you clung to me.” “You were warm,” I muttered in half confession, avoiding his gaze. “And your bed smelt nice.” “My bed smelt of me.” My voice grew smaller and my fingers agitated. “Exactly.”

HE SMELLED NICE. And who can resist the all-powerful bedsharing trope amirite? The problem is, just because Laon is physically present doesn’t mean he stops being emotionally distant:

I found myself studying the rhythm of his gait, the set of his jaw and the weariness in his shoulders. There was so much between us that remained unspoken, and for all that I could read from the way he moved and held himself, it was not enough.

There are oceans of unsaid things between them. Plus, every time she lays a hand on him—and after their reunion it’s always Cathy initiating the touch—he acts like it physically pains him. How do you react to that, to your brother recoiling from you touch?

”I am not an ornamental hermit,” said Laon, his anger spilling over. I placed a hand on his shoulder and he flinched at my touch but calmed.

The sight of my own helpless brother disarmed me. I reached out a comforting hand to him, laying it on his shoulder … He leaned into my touch and I could see his demeanor soften before he pulled away.

”You need me here, Laon.” I put my hand on his shoulder; he flinched and pulled away. ”You aren’t safe here.” his eyes flickered to me and then away again. “It’s not about that … It’s not that I need you, it’s that I want—“ he stopped. His voice sounded as though it was about to break. He turned and simply left.

Laon does that at lot—breaks off in the middle of sentences. He’ll say things like, ”Is it not enough that—“ and then just stop. Like he has to clamp the words down before he can betray his true feelings to Cathy. He tells her she has to leave in two weeks, which is an entirely arbitrary deadline based on the fact that he can’t stop either worrying about her or wanting her:

”It is very dangerous out there, Cathy. In the mists. Anything … I cannot—“ “What cannot you do, Laon? … Have you not done it all? Have you not gone to university? Have you not left England? Have you not made yourself a grand explorer?”

What he cannot do, and what he longs to do above all, is protect her. He’s been petitioning the Faerie Queen to grant the Church some concessions, like license to travel & preach all over Arcadia, and it doesn’t sound like he’s getting anywhere. Cathy’s presence is both keeping him sane and driving him to distraction.

Though my eyes were on the fire, his were on me. I could feel his gaze on my skin and I ached to touch him again.

She ACHES for hiS TOuCH omg i am L I V I N G. Did I mention she DREAMS about him, like, constantly?

That night, I dreamt of Laon. He lay under a willow in a garden, resting his head on the lap of a pale, pale woman. She wound her arms around him and he sighed as she stroked his face … The dream continued for some time, and when I finally awoke, I found my eyes gritty and sore from unshed tears, and my heart aching.

She later recognizes the “pale, pale woman” as the actual Faerie Queen who invites herself to Laon’s house on a sort of Royal Progress. This is Cathy greeting the queen and registering that she’s the woman from her dream:

I withered under her gaze and that knot of pain in my chest grew heavier and tighter. She smiled, and I could see again those lips brushing against my brother’s ears.

The thing is, Cathy invokes the imagery of lips brushing against ears in reference to her own memories of growing up with Laon, “his lips brushing against my ear in mimicry of a secret.” It gets worse. She’s summoned to the Faerie Queen’s chambers and the bottom drops out of her stomach when she sees the bed:

I remembered attaching my green ribbons to our old sheets. They had been our mother’s in her dowry, and when Laon had inherited them I had sewn on the green ribbons on an extravagant whim. I had worn those ribbons in my hair running through the moors. I remember him trying to snatch them from me as we rolled about in the heather. Those were Laon’s sheets on Mab’s beds.

Those are literally the sheets that made up their mother’s trousseau, that Cathy herself had painstakingly embellished with her own handiwork. In an era when all your clothes and linens had to be hand-sewn without aid of machines, it was indeed extravagant to spend that much time adding green ribbons to a perfectly serviceable set of sheets. The symbolic significance though—Cathy would have sewn them on for Laon, would have expected Laon to sleep on them. WHAT KIND OF FUCKING MESSAGE IS THIS BITCH TRYING TO SEND??? Cathy can’t be blamed for wondering. It makes her blood boil to imagine Laon in the Faerie Queen’s arms. If the goal was to make Cathy insanely jealous by flaunting her hold over Laon, well, achievement unlocked I guess.

The Fairie Queen takes up residence. She insists on (1) a masquerade ball and (2) a boar hunt. The ball is a highly bizarre affair—the dancers are clockwork automatons, the guests materialize out of paintings—but one thing it does is force Cathy and Laon to confront their frankly off-the-charts level of physical attraction to each other:

He loomed over me and I felt that prickle of annoyance that I have known all my life about his height. “You— you’re…”he hesitated before finishing. “You’re quite pretty.” The knot within my heart tightened. I simply could not remember the last time he had remarked upon my appearance. He said nothing when I twirled before him in old dresses on the eve of my first dance at the squire’s house. Nothing when the village girls and I gigglingly contemplated the prospect of marriage and asked his assessment. Nothing when I attended his first sermon in my best dress and mother’s brooch. He must not have done so since we were children. My brow furrowed, trying to make sense of that knot within me. It ached with a visceral familiarity, as though I had borne it all my life without knowledge of it. “I’m sorry,” said my brother. “I should not have said anything.” “No … I hadn’t realized how long it was since you last said that.” A smile wavered at the corner of his lips.

”Cathy, do you think me handsome?” … I took a step closer, to see him better. A flush rose within me, unaccustomed to the nearness of him. Without asking, I reached behind him and undid the ribbon of his domino mask. It fell free of his face, and I kept staring. For the first time in a long time, I simply looked at my brother’s face. It was strange, as I had thought it so familiar, but it was to his moods and changes, the subtle quirk of his mouth or flash of his eyes …. Would she think him as beautiful as I did?

Ok first of all to reach behind someone’s head and remove their mask is the most intimate of gestures. Second of all, Cathy and Laon encounter another pair of siblings at the ball who are codependent as hell and not tryna hide it, of the “he stroked her hair with the lightest of touches…. she drew a nail across the skin of his jaw” variety. Those two are described as waltzing across the floor in a hold “too close to be decent,” which could also describe their relationship in general tbh. What’s interesting is that while Laon and Cathy do not waltz together at the actual masquerade, that night she dreams about waltzing with him. The significance of the waltz versus one of the regular old country dances is the waltz is deemed waaaaay more risqué; you spend the whole dance with one partner and there’s a lot more skin-to-skin contact. Halfway through the ball, the Faerie Queen claps her hands, dispels the illusions that festoon the hall and voila, the fae revert to their true shapes! The singing birds are revealed to be human prisoners in chains! Cathy’s elaborate ballgown disappears!

”Cathy …” My brother choked out my name. I looked confused at his face. He was staring at me intently. The hunger in his eyes was both alien and achingly familiar. That knot within me tightened and I felt a warmth spread across my skin. “You—“ His jaw clenched and his lips pulled into a tight line. He did not stop staring, though, even as I could tell he was trying to stop … I was completely naked underneath the gossamer thin fabric. I could feel my brother’s gaze upon my skin, his study of my shape.

He can’t tear his eyes from her naked body and I don’t care how cliched it is, I am HERE FOR IT. She flees up to her room then, and it’s in the context of her mortifying exit from the ball that she has the dream where she’s waltzing with Laon:

We were at once running through the heather and arguing over his departure to become a missionary. We were bickering over toy soldiers, getting lost in the garden. We were gazing upon our father’s coffin and despairing over our inheritance of debts. All moments of our intertwined lives tangled before me. I felt that old, familiar knot within my chest tighten. My fingers traced against his flesh and I found the words that were written there …. As I read his bound soul, his hands uncovered mine. We followed each unutterable word, each branded red and raw in the book of human skin … I found my own name written upon the book of his soul.

This is (1) unbearably poetic (2) inevitable. Their whole lives have been leading to this. And then the next day she confronts him in the stables before the hunt:

“You can’t do this alone. You need me here.” “You don’t understand, Cathy …” “If not me, then someone else, a wife, Miss Davenport.” My voice was hollow even to my own ears; I did not want him to marry. To utter the words twisted the knotted pain in my chest, the knot I did not want to give a name to. I remembered feeling it every time he flirted with another woman, every time the ladies at church would flutter by and giggle at the prospect of an attachment. I had carried it within myself for so long, heavy as a stone. For the first time, I felt the true weight of it, across my shoulders and tight around my chest. I felt a spinning sense of unbalance even as that weight and pain anchored me. “You need someone and it should be me. You should not be alone here.” “I want you here. More than anything.” “Then why are you sending me away?”

Do you hear that? The weight of her painful passion for her brother has anchored her for so long that she’s unbalanced by the loss of it. When she places the look in his eyes as lust, when the knot in her chest begins to loosen the tiniest bit, she’s flailing bc she doesn’t know what to do with herself. At this point I need to spoil the central twist of this story so I urge you all in the STRONGEST terms to please go read it then come back ok?

SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS

Gothic fiction is full of doubles. Not like, literal doppelgängers, but characters whose existence is designed to cast certain traits of the protagonist’s into sharp relief. Fresh off the boat the very first person that Cathy meets in Arcadia is Miss Ariel Davenport, the aforementioned changeling whose function in Laon’s household is unclear. Ariel is weird. She rambles on about esoteric subjects, asks non sequitur questions, and claims an unearned intimacy by calling Cathy by her Christian name. Ariel was swapped for the “real” Ariel Davenport as a baby, and grew up thinking she was human. Here’s how she found out she wasn’t:

”I do know I don’t need food. I don’t starve, I just feel hungry … Ariel Davenport’s family died in a workhouse. I watched them starve when I did not. Whatever fae gears were inside me kept turning.”

What a brutal awakening. Ariel talks a lot about how she doesn’t fit in, how she doesn’t really belong in Arcadia but when she tries to do human things like embroider a handkerchief or love someone there’s an offness to it:

”But it’s not quite the same. Doesn’t come naturally.”

Ariel’s name recalls the spirit from Shakespeare’s The Tempest, who also got a pretty raw deal—she was a genie-in-a-bottle enslaved to a magician with delusions of grandeur— and Ariel Davenport likewise never grows enough of a spine to openly cross her master. Her “master” would be the Faerie Queen, the one at whose court Laon is currently detained. She’s the one pulling all the strings. There’s a reason that Ariel was sent to stay with Laon and Cathy, and the reason, as you may have surmised, is that Cathy is a changeling too. DUN DUN DUN.

That’s the revelation that shatters her. It’s Ariel who discloses the truth to her, a truth the reader has probably divined already from other hints; it’s Ariel who, transfigured into various animal guises, is the quarry of the hunt. Cathy plunges a knife into Ariel’s heart (!) bc someone’s gotta do it, the Queen has decreed Ariel must die for sport and at least this way Laon’s hands will be clean of murder. It’s ok if Cathy does it, she tells herself, because she doesn’t have a soul. And the consummation of her and Laon’s relationship happens right on the heels of that, because you can’t really expect a mainstream audience to be invested in a love scene unless you assure them it’s not really incest since they’re not blood-related, so that checks out. She’s trying to wash Ariel’s blood off when he knocks on her door:

No, Catherine Helstone’s brother. I corrected myself … He was not mine to call my own.

I did not turn around. I did not want to see the look in his eyes. I feared his pity, his revulsion, his anger. I dreaded it all, but above all, I feared his absence.

Ahsjhdjfhdjfd he drops his greatcoat on the floor, rolls up his sleeves, and takes up a washcloth to bathe her:

”We used to share a copper bath like this by the fire,” he said conversationally. I could hear the strain in his voice, see the slight tremble in his motions. “When we were small enough to both fit inside the tub. You hated washing your hair because of the soap in your eyes.” Did I giggle when he upended buckets of water over my head or was I angered? Did I sit patiently as he scrubbed my back or did I squirm at his touch. The water was lukewarm but Laon’s touch was anything but cold. I followed his every movement, the nonsense patterns upon my skin. I was holding my breath, listening to his. I could feel him, warm and solid behind me, his breath hot on my shoulder, at the base of my neck. Shivers spidered down my spine and spread over me. I ached … And then, his hands were on me again, strong, demanding. I revealed in his force; it proved to me that I was not breaking, that I would not shatter. He tightened his grip on my hips and I gasped. Fleetingly, I felt real.

That’s the crux of it. Her entire life has been a sham; being loved by Laon is the only thing that’s left, the only thing that’s real. You can see her already begin to doubt her recollection of the past, wondering “did i giggle…? did i squirm…?” because HONESTLY IT COULD’VE BEEN INCEPTION. HOW DO U KNOW WHATS REAL. She’s spent the first half of the novel spinning us endless anecdotes from her childhood with Laon, and now this happens, it destroys the foundations of her identity:

All my memories seemed so distant. My imperfect, simulacrum mind with its imperfect memories … I told my youth to myself like a story, trying to remember who I was. I told myself about the little papers I wrote with Catherine Helstone’s brother, the names we gave the toy soldiers and the fantastical yet tediously mundane lands they explored … It all seemed so very insubstantial. Except that memory. I flushed warm whenever my thoughts brushed against it. Unlike everything else, I remembered with embarrassing clarity, every touch between us, every biting kiss and each hot breath. I was a moth, speared like a specimen by his scrutiny. I lay under him, pinned. His gaze, his touch, his grip made me real.

This is Cathy two or three days ago talking to Ariel about her earliest memory:

”I always liked to think that my first memory was of Laon. I was three, maybe and we were playing. I don’t remember what, but we were hiding under a table and we had to be very quiet. The tablecloth was red and I think I remember his fingers against my lips.” “Is it real?” “Of course it is,” I said. I touched my fingers to my mouth, lingering on that memory, the vivid feeling of his skin against mine.

If she doesn’t even have her memories of Laon, what does she have??? What is true and what is a forgery? This is from her waltz dream the night before:

We were surrounded by faceless automatons, by soulless far, by mindless beasts. He was the last real thing within these borders, under this unreal sun.

So the Queen and her retinue depart. Cathy and Laon are not atm seeing eye to eye because he’s wracked by guilt for the carnal sin they’ve committed, and she’s wracked by guilt because she, you know, murdered Ariel. I’m not at all surprised at Laon, though—this is after all the man who wrote in his journal:

Sometimes this cross is heavy beyond endurance. I carry it in repentance for the sins of my heart, for that is the same as the sins of the flesh. To look upon a woman in lust is to have committed adultery with her already . I know this and I bear it. I feel that I shall bear it for all my days.

For all his days, he says—he’ll go to his grave loving Cathy and that’s the tea. But right now she’s hurting, and she more or less keeps to her bed:

He did not ask if I was going to leave the room or when; he recognized this childish habit already. I had done it after the funeral of Catherine Helstone’s sister when I was seven and a half, then again for a while after her father’s. I remembered counting the threads in the quilt, willing my world to be just that warm, soft embrace. He had taken care of me then … He still gazed at me in hunger when he thought I wasn’t looking. I yearned for that closeness, that reality, but I could not bring myself to deserve it. Day after day, I ate because he bid me to.

He has looked after her in her grief before and he does so again now. She spends the next few chapters avoiding his name and referring to him as “Catherine Helstone’s brother.” What jolts her out of her funk is, one day they crawl into the belly of a beached whale and catalogue the wonders contained therein. It’s an adventure, and she doesn’t initially go willingly:

Deaf to my protests, he had gathered me into his arms, deposited me onto the floor and proceeded to roll my outdoor stocking onto my feet. Despite my squirming and kicking, he persevered.

Lmao this is peak sibling interaction. Once they’re inside the belly of the beast, of course, it turns into something else:

He was standing very close to me and all at once I was all too aware of him. I forgot why I was fighting so hard to put aside our attraction, forgot all the reasons I gave myself for why I shouldn’t. Each memory seemed to lead me inexorably to this point where I was standing before him, slightly too close and far too afraid. I had not wanted to give name to this passion, not wanted to acknowledge it. I could have gone to my grave not knowing why I felt this ache whenever I saw Catherine Hailstone’s brother. I could have passed this life blind of my own longing and ignorant to his. I could have … He was simply there, too close, too real and too beautiful.

So OF COURSE they tumble into bed in Cathy’s tower room amidst their scribbled notes (they’re working on translating the Bible because “the mother tongue is the best missionary”) and the ink is blotted onto Cathy’s skin holy shit how appropriate is that. All those Greek and Latin texts they pored over as kids, the sermons he practiced on her, all of that was leading up to this: Cathy Helstone, the wife and helpmeet that Reverend Helstone DESERVES. I am strongly put in mind of two other stories stop for a second and hear me out: (1) Pygmalion, the tale of the sculptor who falls in love with his own creation and brings her to life and (2) Tam Lin, the ballad about a fellow who’s abducted by the Faerie Queen and whose ladylove rescues him through sheer grit and pluck—her trial is to hold onto him and not let go while he transforms into every dangerous beast under the sun. In the beginning it seemed like Laon = Tam Lin but now it’s Cathy who’s fallen into the Faerie Queen’s clutches.

we lay curled up against each other like the working dogs used to by the fire. He looked over at me and with a lazy, contented smile on his lips, he said, “Cathy—“

”Don’t call me that,” I said, cutting him short. Panic welled up at the back of my throat at that name. “I’m not —“

”Cathy,” he said again, pressing his face against the curve of my neck. I felt his warm breath upon my skin and giddy pleasure spread from those lips; I calmed. “Let the other be Catherine. And you can be Cathy. You will always be my Cathy and you will always be my sister.” I raised an eyebrow at that, and he had the decency to look sheepish. “And other things, true,” he said. “But either way, you shouldn’t think of yourself as less real. And I do have to call you something.”

”I’m not real.”

”You feel real to me.”

I love how her being “other things” to him doesn’t in any way negate her being his sister. Lord, that “you feel real to me” is everythinggggggg. At the same time I can’t blame Cathy for being assailed by doubt:

”it’s possible that no memory before I set foot on fae soil is real … I can’t trust my own mind.”

”I know my sister like I know my own mind. I would know if you —“

”You thought I was an illusion created by the mists to torment you.”

”I had imagined you so many times … I knew I had to leave, I wanted you too much … So, believe me. I did not doubt you because you are not who I know you to be. I doubted you because of my own weakness. You are the sister I are up with, the sister I have loved and love now. And that’s all that matters.”

Laon goes as far as to try to obtain receipts to prove her realness: They attend a Goblin Market where everything is for sale—for a price. He offers to sell an arm, a leg, a lung and an eye in exchange for Cathy’s memories??? It’s half of him for half her soul, I guess. Find yourself a man who looks at you the way Laon Helstone looks at his sister:

”Cathy, I love you.” Unlike his earlier declarations, he said it quite plainly as though it were an observation about the weather … “I’ve loved you, adored you, desired you for as long as I remember … As a sister, as a lover, it doesn’t matter … You doubt the truth of your mind and your memories, and if this can give you answers … Then I’m willing to pay the asking price for that.”

This speech absolutely melted me. She talks him down from selling an arm for her soul, but I mean, as far as God’s concerned the way she feels about Laon skates perilously close to idolatry:

For all that we had the books of our faith before us, he stood between me and every impulse of religion, even as he reached out to me with the promise of intercessory grace, he eclipsed such hopes of heaven. I had made an idol of him, and for all my excuses that this but a return to the childish hero worship I had once had for him, this went deeper. When he clasped his hand around mine in prayer, when I knelt before him, I thought not of God, that Lord of Hosts, nor of Jesus, the Redeemer, but of him, simply and eternally.

So to recap: Laon and Cathy are holding onto each other for dear life in this godforsaken hellscape of a ruined castle-manor where the weather has to be summoned with arcane spells and the flowers, instead of thriving or wilting naturally, have to be individually painted with the change of seasons. Come to find out, they are literally in hell. Not purgatory, hell itself. Which would explain how all Laon’s proselytizing has amounted to one (1) successful convert. That’s a piss poor track record by any metric. And their lone convert didn’t even accept Jesus Christ as his savior on Laon’s watch. It happened when the other guy, Reverend Hale, was here. What happened was Reverend Hale’s wife decided to take her Communion bread unsalted, and was promptly CONDEMNED TO HELL FOR ETERNITY because remember the first rule of Arcadia: Don’t eat anything unless you salt it. She is the madwoman in the attic, the “woman in black” that Cathy has caught glimpses of from time to time. It was an experiment designed to show that God’s grace extended even unto Arcadia. It didn’t work, but I guess anyone who witnessed this crazy stunt would have developed a newfound respect for humans and their faith. What this means is that the madwoman in the attic is not after all the original Catherine. She is not Laon Helstone’s sister, which was the working assumption of both Cathy and the reader up till now.

A fire breaks out in the kitchen. Cathy and Laon are unharmed by the conflagration. This is because in the house they are still protected by the geas — the one that is centered on Laon, the one that Cathy was told extended to her too because “Blood binds blood. And blood knows blood.” But the entire point of Cathy being a changeling is that she does not share Laon’s blood. Something doesn’t add up. A rider arrives with a letter. It’s dated months and months ago, from the London Missionary Society. Someone has been carrying on a correspondence with Reverend Helstone’s sister in their name, but it isn’t them, and they sure as hell did not sponsor Cathy’s passage to Arcadia. The truth hits Laon and Cathy at the same time:

My mouth was a grave of words, each thought dying there and it was their rot that I tasted, that filled me with gut-wrenching revulsion. He laughed, threw his head back and just laughed. His wide shoulders shook with his senseless mirth until his eyes too were filled with tears. “I thought you were an apparition to tempt me.” His beautiful mouth twisted cruel. “I thought the mist spat you out to make me sin, to pull me down, to drag me to hell. I thought I could outrun myself, my own sins, my own sister. I thought—“ “Laon, no …” I wasn’t sure what I was objecting to, but I wanted him to stop. I wanted myself to stop. “But they did better than that.” I flung myself at him, covered his lips with mine. Tear-stained hands cupping his face, it was not a kiss so much as a hard, stubborn meeting of lips. It needed to stop. Everything needed to stop, to silence. Gasping, he choked out, “You’re my sister.” My cheeks were against his face and my tears were his. We were broken mirrors of one another. “You’re my sister,” he said again. He did not push me away.

!!!!! SHE’S REALLY HIS SISTER AFTER ALL NOT A CHANGELING IT WAS ALL PART OF THE FAERIE QUEEN’S PLAN!!!! Here she is confirming it:

”My grand scheme.” She made a gesture towards the clockwork that framed her throne. “The sins that I have set in motion, the gift that I have given you. Had I not summoned you to Arcadia, would you have seen these wonders? Had I not placed into my own home, remade for your pleasure, would you have realized your love?”

And it wasn’t like she lied about it—the fae can’t lie, after all. That’s why they’re so deadly at weaponizing the truth. She just left a trail of breadcrumbs and let people (aka Ariel) draw their own conclusions, and spill those conclusions to Cathy. You have to admire how elegantly she sprung the trap. And certainly neither Laon nor Cathy appears to regret falling into each other’s arms. It’s just that once again Cathy’s whole world has been turned upside down:

There was an acidic taste at the back of my throat … Our love had been the last pure, real thing that I had clung to and it was slipping away … Every kiss, every caress that had passed between us came to the fore of my mind, now tainted by new, old knowledge.

Okay but you know here is what else Cathy has also said on the subject of forbidden knowledge (one of the oldest senses of the verb “to know” is to know someone biblically):

The world was made with words. If I looked hard enough, I could read those words still. They flowed in the veins of the world, written on their seams. They told me this tree would reach the heavens. They told me nothing was forbidden. They told me knowledge could not be a sin.

Being expelled from Eden was not altogether a bad deal for Adam and Eve. And we are talking Edenic parallels here, since it’s revealed one of the Faerie Queen’s names is Lilith, aka Adam’s first wife. When I was younger and thought myself very superior I was of the Phillip Pullman School of “it is better to know sin than to remain ignorant and innocent,” but it’s not that simple. Cathy and Laon came to Arcadia to save souls; now it looks like they’ve lost theirs. Laon has spent more than half his life wrestling with theology: he is a preacher, and singularly unsuited to doing anything else. I keep circling back to that image of words written on the seams of the world, and I think about Cathy’s waltz dream where she read her name on the book of Laon’s soul, and the masquerade ball before that where they encountered the too-close pair of siblings whose skin was actually branded with words??? Not tattoos actual words of fire. Cathy could only kind-of read them, not being fluent in the Arcadian tongue. Cathy and Laon have spent half this novel translating scripture. Words are the building blocks of reality. If you notice in the passage where she finds out they’ve been sinning this whole time, it opens with “My mouth was a grave of words.” Anyway, Cathy is all to pieces because a person can only sustain so many blows to their sense of self in quick succession:

Lantern in hand, I drifted through the castle, numb from new knowledge: I was human. I was in love with my brother. I was in hell.

She’d need time to process even one of those revelations, let alone all three at once. And in the end they decide to stay in Faerie and do missionary work together. Because, Cathy points out, if “the mother tongue is the best missionary” and here they are in Hell, it can only help their cause that they are both fluent in sin. GIRL, A+ LOGIC. If anyone wants to read a short (<2k) fic about Cathy and Laon embarking on the next chapter of their lives, I highly recommend this one, where the Author’s Note muses, “What's the biggest theologically-evocative Molotov cocktail I could throw in their path?” and the story goes with “Cathy gets pregnant” asddfggkgjgk.

Friends, I do not scruple to say that Jeannette Ng has written the perfect incest book for me. I still can’t believe it’s an unabashed love story. Where the main pairing is canon and also endgame. It all unfolds inexorably, and when I found out Cathy was a changeling it didn’t feel like a cop-out, unlike other stories where “they’re stepsiblings!” or “one of them’s adopted!” absolutely does feel like a cop-out. Because Cathy’s identity crisis is at the core of the story. When I found out she wasn’t a changeling that felt inevitable too. It’s just such a powerful meditation on memory, that most fallible of human faculties. It’s such a power move to saturate the narrative with memories of Cathy and Laon playing as children, and then reveal that even those fragments aren’t necessarily authentic:

We chased each other through the mists, like we were children again, playing on the moors … Was I imagining now how much i had relished his closeness then? Was it simply newfound desire that was igniting all past memories or had I always flushed warm under his gaze?

It’s unlikely had they remained in England they would have gotten together. The Fairie Queen had to pull out all the stops for this to be endgame. Can we all just ... RESPECT.

#cause of death #book review #under the pendulum sun

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avenger-hawk · 6 years

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About Sasuke refusing to kill people - it's interesting you take that (based on the databook as well) as an innate characteristic of his. I always thought he was like that on purpose out of pride/honor, to be someone as different from [what he knew of] Itachi as possible, or because of his trauma at best, not as an innate trait.

Sasuke is not that proud arrogant prick that fanon likes to see in him because they don’t get how he really is and instead they use other manga tropes to define him. His childhood dream was the purest and simplest compared to any other character, and that was before trauma. His kind soul isn’t an interesting take I have, it’s the right take, it’s canon.

(antiending, anticanon pairings under the cut)

First of all Sasuke is proud of the Uchiha name, not of himself.

He has a low self-esteem, since he was a child he was compared to Itachi, a genius, from his father and pretty much everyone else. The massacre and Itachi’s words traumatized him into thinking that he was even more worthless. He was the best in his class but it meant nothing because he saw them all as weak, as he had his father’s standards in mind. He felt superior but then inferior to N*ruto whose progress had been sudden and faster, and after he was beaten and humiliated by Itachi at the inn, he felt even more worthless, and that made him leave the village and follow Orochimaru, to get stronger, to be able to have his revenge. Orochimaru knew how to manipulate him in using his weakness, which was exactly his low self-esteem and the fact that he perceived himself as weak. So I can’t even listen to “Sasuke is proud” arguments because they’re so wrong. Acting occasionally arrogant and/or bratty isn’t being proud. And it might be an act to give himself more confidence when interacting with others.

He is proud of his results, of course. When he learns a new jutsu, when he masters katon, then chidori, when he comes up with a new creative strategy against his opponent, he doesn’t hide it. He explains his strategy to Deidara for example, because he’s obviously proud of what he was able to do. He manipulates electricity in so many different ways and he proves it proudly against Itachi as well, just like his Kirin. Same for Amaterasu+chidori stuff combinations. But that’s normal, being proud of his achievements. And it doesn’t make him a proud person at all. There are tons of characters who are really and annoyingly proud in the story, he isn’t one.

The fact that Sasuke SD jokes about his “don’t underestimate the Uchiha” line is a joke, it doesn’t have to be taken seriously. Or maybe it does, because it actually shows that he’s proud of the Uchiha name, not of himself.

When he was a child he was proud of the Uchiha name and he wanted to become strong and worthy of his father and brother. After the massacre he was proud of the Uchiha name because it meant strength, because he missed his family and everyone else, because he wanted to give them justice and avenge them, because he was the sole survivor and he still had so much to learn about them, having lost them so early, so everything he knew about the Uchiha had a sort of mythical aura that magnified their greatness, and so his need to become worthy of the name, and most of it all his need to become strong and avenge them. When he got to know the truth the pride of being a part of that clan was colored by affection again, as he openly mentioned how he wanted them back, and it was colored by rage and desperation for the injustice they suffered, so it was no longer a matter of pride, it was something deeper.

When he heard Edo Tensei Itachi’s words and he listened to the past Kage’s story thus deciding to protect the village there was no pride, only the will to protect Itachi’s sacrifice and create the world he dreamed of. He even dismissed Madara, a fellow clansman, for this. And in the end he doesn’t give a damn about the Uchiha name, or anything else for that matters, as he’s brainwashed and tamed into submission, only loyal to N*ruto. (btw don’t send me antiSS asks, I already replied to everything I had to say about that shit, including Uchiha crest stuff)

Back to Sasuke’s refusal to kill people, you said it yourself, it’s in the databook. It’s canon. My take on this, which can be interesting or not according to one’s preference, is that not only he refuses to kill people but also animals. Because he mentioned unnecessary violence, and so does the databook. Violence applies to animals as well, and since he’s always portrayed with random animals, it means something to me, like that he saw too many people killed like animals so he can’t stand animals killed either. Which means he doesn’t eat them, because like the song says, meat is murder. (I already explained my opinion on this, and I couldn’t care less if you think that it’s wrong. I’ve already been attacked for this, so bye and get a life)

#sasuke #Anonymous #anti-ending #vivalarevolution #vivalarevolution: not crazy but desperate #that's why I don't like most sasuke blogs even prosasuke ones #our views are different. which is politically correct for #they don't understand a single thing and I think they're all wrong as fuck so I don't wanna see any of their crap #oops

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kikumerio · 6 years

Text

[fic] what you have tamed (kuraryou exchange 2018)

to: @swwyz from: @kikumerio notes: dear tsu, i'm sorry i couldn't get my fingers to run with any of your wonderful au prompts, but you did mention futurefic -- so i hope you enjoy this glimpse at kuraryou post-high school ;;; happy kuraryou day!

(read on ao3)

* * *

He can't count the number of times they've found themselves here, the last few weeks as winter comes to a close, lolling on the embankment, shivering in the crisp air. This'll be one of the last, he guesses. There's a faint sting to that, even though he knows it's not really the end. That something like what they've got doesn't just fade away.

"Really?" he's asking Ryou-san. "Nothing at all?"

"I've had other things on my mind." Ryou-san sounds totally disinterested. "For someone to keep my attention... that person would have to be exceptional."

Not the reveal he's – not pushing for, exactly, but half-prepared for. One of these days. But – that person. When Ryou-san says something, it's never an accident. There's a warm feeling in the pit of Youichi's stomach.

"I suppose you've put quite a lot of... thought into it." Bone dry.

Youichi shrugs. Ignores the innuendo. "Eh, you know. There's plenty of time, right? After graduation. College. After that. What's the rush?"

Silence, and then a cool hand covers his forehead. "Are you feeling all right?"

"Peachy," Youichi says. Bats at Ryousuke's hand, as his heartbeat gallops in his ears.

"A fever? Possession? Body swap?"

"This isn't a horror story, Ryou-san."

"Hmm."

Youichi settles back into the grass. "I just think, you know. The right thing is worth waiting for."

"How romantic." Sharp, needling. Ryou-san's way of showing fondness.

Youichi smiles at the sky. "Sure," he says. "If you want to put it that way."

* * *

Youichi didn’t even notice at first, was the thing. At first, right after the third years had graduated – and he’d think of them as "the third years" for a long time, long after he himself moved up to 3-B – he and Ryou-san kept up a pretty steady stream of messages, trading news from the high school baseball circuit and reports on Kominato junior for stories about college life. Sometimes they'd text back and forth about the same big game on TV, kind of like they were watching together, almost.

Around the end of Ryousuke's second term at university, just as Seidou bowed out of the fall tournament and Youichi started to come to grips with the fact that his last high school baseball game had been three months ago, enough of the old team came home for the holidays that they had a meet-up, the first since Spring Koushien. Tetsu-san came by Seidou every so often to keep an eye on Little Yuuki, but Jun-san was back from Osaka, and Fumiya from Hiroshima, and even Chris-senpai was home, patient as ever as he was pelted with questions about California. And then suddenly between one breath and the next there was Ryou-san, smiling tranquilly next to Haruichi, and Youichi thought his face was going to burst from grinning so hard.

It must have begun after that. Youichi went home for New Year’s and squirmed as his mother ruffled his hair extra hard every other minute, her way of saying I can't believe you’re graduating. Haruichi sent him a picture of the Kominato family lined up at their local temple, Ryousuke’s hair short and windblown. Looking at them next to each other it was impossible not to see that Haruichi was a good four centimeters taller. Youichi remembered thinking it was funny that he didn’t hear anything from Ryousuke, but that was Ryou-san for you. He texted him anyway.

hppy new years partner

And after a minute: Happy New Year, Kuramochi.

Then there was the final push for exams, even though they didn’t really matter with a recommendation from Coach and his college offer in hand, then the scramble to do the rounds of goodbye parties and pack up and move into the baseball dorm at Hosei, the grueling first-year hazing-we-mean-training-camp, attending obligatory Spring League games to cheer for his new senpai, dragging himself to lecture whenever he could manage between three-hour sessions of morning and evening practice. And Ryousuke—did he have exams? He must have; it was the end of the term, and he wasn't texting Youichi at all.

In the middle of the summer heat, Seidou made it to Koushien for Sawamura and Furuya and Haruichi's last hurrah. Youichi couldn’t make it all the way to Kobe during game weeks, but he knew hell and high water combined wouldn’t keep Ryousuke away. tell the kids hi for me, he texted.

He never got an answer, which he didn’t realize for a while, because then the Fall League was on them and Youichi woke, slept and dreamed Big Six games for eight brutal weeks. They beat Meiji but lost to Waseda, and then to Rikkyo – embarrassing – coming a respectable second overall. He was so exhausted by the end of the league he barely had the energy to read the congratulatory messages he did receive, much less notice the ones he didn’t. Then a lackluster nod at studying with his freshman teammates, who were all in the same classes, and then it was the holiday break, again, and Youichi went straight from the end-of-season drinking party to his dorm room and slept for eleven hours.

He truly rejoined the world of the living sometime around the day after that. The sun was out, so Youichi wandered outside to bask on the steps outside the dorm. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d just... not done anything. He had a date with his PS3, just as soon as he could get himself to move again. He scrolled through his neglected messages instead, squinting against the glare. 31 new notifications. His mother, Haruichi (what a dutiful kid), Shirasu (huh), a text chain started by Sawamura entitled holidays?? that looked like a roll call of who’d be around for New Year's and included a pointed are you reading this Miyuki kazuya???

Youichi snorted. No answer from either Kominato, though presumably the younger would be there. Actually, there was no reason the elder wouldn’t either, even though he hadn't been around lately, not since – And all of a sudden Youichi realized the last time he’d seen Ryou-san face-to-face had been over a year ago.

It threw him, for a minute. But no time like the present. He opened a new message.

hey ryou-san!! long time no see. got some free time? wanna meet up?

It had been almost two weeks since the last time they'd texted, desultory complaints about the snowstorm rolling through Tokyo. Ryousuke would be an upperclassman soon; he’d said something about choosing seminars. Sure enough, when Youichi finally got an answer, late that night, it read, Ah, I’m a bit busy right now. Rain check, please.

np gimme a shout when your free!! hows school?

Ryousuke kept read receipts on. It gave Youichi two days to wonder before he got an answer.

Going. Stay warm out there.

Youichi couldn't put a finger on what exactly made him feely itchy and uncomfortable. So he ignored it. He'd cracked the starting lineup midway through the league and he couldn't let his practice schedule slip if he wanted to stay there, even for a couple days. Plus he had plenty of other shit to catch up on – violent manga to read, games to play. He wasn't going to let this get to him.

thanks ᕙ(⇀‸↼‶)ᕗ btw made the starting string. when are you gonna come to one of our games?

This time, four days went by before he got a single, completely unrelated message: I suppose you've heard about Fumiya's latest.

Even then, it took a couple hours before Youichi got it, until Sawamura—fucking Sawamura—texted him a picture of himself and Furuya and Haruichi and Ryou-san at—they were at Seidou, on the practice grounds, with Yui and Little Yuuki and some vaguely familiar faces that must be their underclassman. oniisan came to visit!!!!!!! the text said, and that was when Youichi realized Ryousuke was doing it on purpose.

* * *

He didn't expect it so he didn't have any defense. Just hurt – dumb, animal hurt, the kind where his body didn't know whether it wanted to lash out or curl into a ball whimpering to protect himself.

He was—supposed to know. Ryou-san wanted him to know. Wanted to hurt him.

Ryou-san hurt people on purpose, sometimes. But he'd never wanted to hurt Youichi.

That was the thing. Ryou-san hurt people, if they did something that made him think they deserved it, but not his people, not Haruichi or Youichi or Jun-senpai or even dumb, lovable Sawamura – not unless something made it unavoidable. Youichi didn't think he'd done anything to deserve it. He hadn't had a chance. So it was unavoidable. For whatever Ryou-san wanted.

Youichi didn't have the right kind of brain for these kind of games, always guessing one step ahead of one step ahead. But he knew Ryou-san. He knew how Ryou-san expected this to go down. Youichi would be hurt, confused (check); he'd pull back, bury himself in baseball. Like he always had before. The distance would grow, the noncommittal texts – We should get dinner soon or Let’s hang out when you’re not so busy – slowing to a trickle, lip service, greetings on birthdays and Haruichi going pro, until the reason for the distance was forgotten and Youichi was left with a mild wistfulness and some fond memories. And in a few years they'd finally meet up for a Seidou reunion and Ryou-san would show up with some boring guy and introduce him as his date and smile, like Youichi was supposed to be surprised, like he didn't know –

He swiped a hand across his face, blinking back furious tears. Fuck that. Fuck Ryousuke. Youichi got to his feet.

"You-san?" Haruichi's voice was fuzzy, like he had a hand over the receiver; there was laughter in the background. "What's wrong?"

Youichi said, "Give me your brother's address."

* * *

He was lingering by the bicycle bay, the sun down and twilight shading the rusty light into grey, when Ryousuke came back to his apartment building.

Turned out it wasn’t that far away; twenty minutes on the Toei Line. For the last year, or more, they'd been twenty minutes apart. Thinking about it made the pressure in Youichi's head increase, something tight squeezing around his temples.

He knew it was Ryousuke the moment he turned on to the street. He hadn't changed in the ways that mattered. Perfectly self-contained, not a movement out of place. Smaller than Youichi remembered. It made his face heat and his throat prickle, anger and confusion warring with dumb canine instinct, Ryou-san, it's Ryou-san.

Ryousuke was working on his thesis proposal – Youichi knew that much, from the little he had been allowed. Something something economics. He was probably coming back from the library; he had a laptop bag over one shoulder and carried a paper bag bulging oddly with book corners. When he reached the bank of mailboxes, Youichi moved out of the shadows.

Ryousuke glanced at him. Then did a real, actual double-take, which would have been satisfying enough to defuse the entire conversation if Youichi weren't still so angry he couldn't see straight. Ryousuke didn't move, arrested two steps from the door, and Youichi could almost see him weighing it—walk right past, go inside, deliver the killing blow right then, or—

"Hello, Kuramochi," said Ryou-san.

No one else said his name like that. Like Ryou-san was rolling it around on his tongue, tasting it before he let it go. Like it was special.

Youichi said, "I guess you think I’m real stupid or something, huh."

Ryousuke's face gave nothing away. "And, I mean, maybe I am. I didn't even get what you were doing until yesterday. How long've you been working on this?"

Ryousuke didn't answer him. He turned away and moved toward the front door. Youichi thought with a sick sort of anger that now Ryousuke was going to try to ignore him, now that he knew Youichi was going to push him for answers and not just whimper for mercy. Then he saw Ryousuke was holding the door open.

Ryousuke said, "If you want to do this outside, by all means."

It was the cool voice that meant if Youichi wanted to drag him into such a mess he’d put a short and bloody end to it. Fine. Fine. He was Kuramochi Youichi and Ryou-san could fucking bring it. He shoved his hands in his pockets and stomped inside.

Ryousuke's apartment was on the second floor. Even in the middle of anger, Youichi couldn't help casing the place, trying to drink in as much as possible, as he always did with the rare insights he was allowed into Ryou-san's privacy. It was a simple studio, five by ten maybe. It couldn't have been much different from Youichi's suite, but it looked bigger, somehow. It was definitely cleaner. The desk was neat, the bed made up and tucked in a corner. A single mug was drying on a rack across the sink. No plastic bags bulging with empty cans leaning against the cupboard, no drying laundry strewn over the fold-out table and chairs.

Ryou-san took a position by the window, one hand resting lightly on the back of a chair. Kuramochi leaned against the tiny fridge and folded his arms.

He knew Ryou-san could wait him out, so of course then Ryou-san had to throw him by breaking the silence. "Congratulations."

"On what."

"Making the first string."

Youichi bit the inside of his mouth in an effort not to say I knew you read them, playing into Ryousuke's hand, again. Because of course he already knew that, that was the whole point, and Ryou-san knew he knew, and he knew Ryou-san knew, and – he hated this. He hated it.

With that eerie Ryou-san trick of reading his mind, Ryousuke said, "I don't think you're stupid. You understand perfectly well, don't you?"

And there it was again, the rage flaring behind his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, I understand what you're telling me fine. You made sure of that."

"I've always thought it's best to be straightforward."

Youichi snorted, loudly. Sure, Ryou-san was straightforward, sucker punching you in the front to distract you from the knife in the back. But it wasn't worth arguing. Ryousuke didn't look the least bit affected by Youichi's scorn; he still emanated perfect composure, that hint of the smile you knew was there even when you couldn't see it. Youichi said, "You still think I'm – you think I don't know why."

"Why I don't feel like talking to you any more?"

"Why you want me to think that!" Youichi's voice shook just a little, god damn it.

"We're not in high school any more, Kuramochi." How childish, Youichi heard.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Ryousuke's voice sharpened. "This is what happens. People grow apart."

"So, what, you should just give them an extra shove?"

"Why waste time?" He knew Ryousuke was doing it on purpose, he knew Ryousuke knew all his weaknesses, and it still hurt. "Things change. Friendships die."

The blaze of anger flashed through Youichi like lightning. "Who said anything about friendship?"

You wouldn't see it, probably, if you hadn't spent years learning Ryou-san's tells, how to communicate when words would have been too slow, attuned to every slight movement that might get the ball in your glove a hundredth of a second faster. Ryousuke's hand was still where it rested on the chair. His whole body was still. The stillness of a predator, or prey.

Ryousuke would deserve it if he weaseled out and went for some bullshit about partnership or brotherhood. But that wouldn't get them anywhere, and Youichi wasn’t here to score points. He didn't know what he was here for, exactly, only that he’d been waiting for it for a long time.

He'd been waiting, and now the pitch was coming. He couldn't fuck up now.

"I don't—you know I'm not good at, at subtle stuff. But I'm not stupid. I always thought—after a while we'd figure it out, you know? Whatever it is. Maybe—maybe not for a few years, maybe not for—I don’t know—but I always thought... I knew, okay? You made sure.” He took a deep, shaky breath. "So don't try and tell me this is, we're, that it's just friends. I know it's not. It never was."

Ryou-san just – looked at him, a look Youichi hadn't seen in a long, long time; like Ryou-san was reassessing everything he'd known about him. That hurt in its own way too.

“What did you think I was going to do, anyway, just—let it happen?” Ryou-san didn't say anything. Youichi's voice dropped, and to his own mortification he heard a helpless, plaintive note in his own voice. "I thought you knew me better than that."

That was the thing—the worst thing. That he’d thought—he’d known Ryou-san didn't see him the way other people did. Ryou-san didn't treat him the way other people did. Ryou-san got what made him tick and what lit him up and exactly how to take him apart. But despite all that, he still didn't get this, this most important piece. He still thought Youichi would let him down.

Ryousuke finally spoke. "I guess neither of us know each other as well as we thought."

The blood pulsed in Youichi's face. "Speak for yourself. I know you just fine."

"Do you?" And there it was, the first flash of the smolder that Youichi knew was there, always, like a forest fire in winter.

Youichi held his ground. "You bet I do."

"People change, Kuramochi."

"Not that much."

"We've barely spoken in months."

"And whose fault is that, huh?" He pushed himself off the fridge and crossed the room, just six steps, fists balled at his sides. Close enough to see Ryou-san's chest rise and fall, perfectly controlled. Close enough to touch. Whether to slug him or—

"Ryou-san," he said, as quietly as he could. "Don't do this to me, come on."

Ryousuke spoke to some point past his ear. "You seem awfully sure this is about you."

"I don't know what you thought I might do but—I wouldn't. I won't. I swear."

Ryousuke finally looked him in the eye. "Is something wrong with your hearing, Kuramochi? I said it has nothing to do with you."

"Bullshit," Youichi started to snarl, then pulled himself up short. Think, Youichi. What had he just told himself? Punch in the front, knife in the back. Right.

"Fine," he said. "'S not about me.' He saw it flash across Ryou-san's face, disappointment that he'd been right all along – like now he got what he'd been pushing for, he'd secretly been wishing he wouldn't.

"What do you think you're gonna do?" Youichi said.

Ryousuke's face froze.

"Cause whatever it is. You’re not gonna get rid of me that easily, Ryou-san."

Ryou-san wasn't moving. This was it—his chance, now or never. He took took two more steps. In arm's reach now.

"You can have anything you want. As much as you want. You know that, right? You’ve gotta have known it."

The good thing about Ryou-san was also the bad thing about Ryou-san, which was that once he got the bit between his teeth he would run with it until he dropped. He was a fighter; it was one of the things Youichi liked so much about him. Only this time Youichi was pretty sure he was fighting something that didn't exist.

"Any time since second year. All you had to do was say the word."

Two more steps.

Ryou-san smiled. It wasn't a friendly smile.

"What makes you think I want you," he said, cool as glacial runoff, the cool of a frosted drink on a hot day, a chill that made Youichi want to submerge his head and never come out.

How did he know? He didn't, he supposed. Other than that Ryou-san wouldn't be doing this if he didn't have something to be scared of.

That was when he saw that Ryousuke's hand, nearly imperceptible, was trembling.

It hit, a current of vindication and rapport and desire and tenderness all together, like something physical, pulling him in ten directions at once. He didn't know if he wanted to punch Ryou-san, or wrap him up or and never let go, or maybe fall to his knees, or maybe all of the above. It was even odds that Ryousuke would physically step on him, though, which he didn’t want–or maybe he kind of did? it was confusing—so he settled for taking the hand in his own, as gently as he knew how.

He knew that hand well. Smaller than his own, finely shaped. The most capable hand he knew. The baseball calluses had faded; a long angry paper cut ran down the index finger. He curled the strong, flexible fingers around his own. Lifted it to his lips and kissed the knuckles, once. Then he waited for Ryou-san to cut him off at the knees with a single word.

It never came. When Youichi looked up, Ryou-san's smile was gone and his jaw was clenched so hard the skin was white. His eyes were open, and looking at Youichi.

"Come on, Ryou-san," Youichi said again. Hoarse. "Give me a chance."

Ryou-san's voice was barely a whisper. "You don't know what you're asking for."

He couldn't help the laugh that bubbled over. Because—hadn't they just been over this? He knew Ryou-san. He knew exactly what he was asking for.

"Ryou-san. I'm here, aren’t I?"

It must have shown in his grin, because Ryou-san's face flashed irritation, before, unwilling, softening at the edges.

He knew that look too. That was the one that meant Even I didn’t know if you'd make that catch. You’ve managed to surpass my expectations this time. It meant, If I were a different person I'd say 'Well done, Kuramochi.' It was his special look.

He was still holding Ryou-san’s hand in his own. He squeezed it, gently. "Come on, partner. What do you say?"

Ryou-san said, "I suppose there are worse ideas."

Ryou-san's head tipped back. Youichi wasn't an idiot.

Ryou-san's lips were dry. One arm wrapped around his neck, one around his shoulders. Tighter, tighter. His arm slid right around Ryou-san’s waist. Perfectly sized to fit together. He'd known that, too, somehow. Ryou-san felt just right. Of course he did.

Ryousuke's mouth was soft—softer than Youichi had thought. And he had thought, deep down. There was a reason he’d never taken the girls in his class up on their hints, a reason he'd never taken anyone home from a group date. Waiting, all this time, for the time to be right. Until all of a sudden waiting wasn't enough.

He didn't know how far he could push, here. Funny, when he'd just pushed as hard as he could. Ryou-san made a dissatisfied noise. One hand clenched on Youichi's shoulder; body poised, held just centimeters from Youichi's, just far enough for tension to crackle in the space between.

Then – it was like an electric current, a shudder passing through Ryou-san's body, and then Ryou-san had one hand digging into the meat of his shoulder and the other wound in his hair and was molding himself to Youichi, going for his mouth like he was starving, like he'd been thinking about this for a long, long time.

Youichi caught him with both hands and hung on. No room to breathe, to think, just to take as much of Ryou-san as he could. To feel the sharp pain of a hand tugging at the hair at the nape of his neck, the fingernails digging into his shoulder, the hungry, urgent mouth.

Again, and again. He didn’t know how long it went on. He was struggling for breath, gasping – "Ryou-san," into his jaw, the side of his neck, the magic words, "Ryou-san—"

He felt Ryou-san's smile against his cheek. "No need for honorifics, Kuramochi."

"Look who's talking," Youichi managed, between deep, panting breaths. "That the best you can do?"

"What was that, Youichi?" Ryou-san murmured in his ear and Youichi thought he was going to melt down right there in the middle of Ryou-san's apartment. Ryou-san knew it, too, he had the most insufferable knowing smile on his face – Youichi was grinning, grinning so hard it hurt, in relief, in sheer happiness.

Youichi kissed him one more time, long and hard. Ryou-san might look unruffled to outside eyes, but Youichi knew better – the heightened color, the deep breaths, the disordered hair where Youichi had run a hand through it, gathering Ryousuke up toward him. Not that he had anything on Youichi himself. He knew he had to look like he'd just gotten run over, and it gave him a deep, satisfied glow. Bring it. He was ready.

Ryou-san was giving him a long, lingering once-over. Reading his mind again. "You’d better be prepared," he said.

"Hell yeah I am," Youichi said, maybe more fervently than necessary, because something in Ryou-san's eyes kindled, assessing. Youichi's cheeks were warm, but he refused to back down. Ryou-san wanted to go there, Ryou-san could take what he got.

"Hm." Ryou-san eased back down onto his feet – Youichi hadn't realized he'd been on his tiptoes – and smoothed his hands over Youichi's shoulders, patting them once, absent and proprietary. It lit up some sort of nerve center down deep in Youichi’s brain. He was ready, all right, eight days a week.

"Hm," Ryousuke repeated, pensive this time. "I suppose there's no way to avoid mentioning this to Haruichi."

Youichi's train of thought, which had been progressing in a decidedly non-little-brotherly-direction, pulled up short. "Huh?"

Ryousuke's lips made a slight twist of distate. "Haruichi had some words. About... Well."

Youichi laughed—cackled, fine. "I bet."

One eyebrow went up sharply. In anyone else that would be a pout. "Don't think you're getting off so easy, You-san. He wasn't terribly impressed with you, either."

Youichi couldn't help it. He ducked his head to steal another kiss, reveling in the way Ryou-san leaned up into it, leaned into him, didn’t hurry to let go. "I can handle junior," Youichi murmured when it was over, blithely ignoring years of evidence to the contrary

Ryousuke's shoulders quivered – with laughter. "Is that so."

Youichi was carried away on a tide of satisfaction, blissfully invincible. Nothing could touch him. "Sure. The Kominato whisperer. That’s what they call me."

"Do they," Ryou-san said, which, oops, maybe that one had been a mistake – no, that invisible smile was there, and –

"He can wait until I'm done with you," said Ryousuke.

"Sure," Youichi said, husky. "All yours, Ryou-san."

And you better not forget it again, he wanted to add, but from the tiny, tiny smile on Ryousuke's face, he kind of thought he didn't have to.

* * *

"About time," Haruichi sniffed, next time he met Youichi for fast food. "Honestly."

"A lot of help you were," Youichi groused, stealing a handful of his fries as punishment.

"If you can't solve your own problems, why should I be expected to fix them for you?" Haruichi pointed out, which was pretty reasonable, actually, except—

"I didn't know there was one! Which was what it was!"

He stopped to review his pronouns. Haruichi blinked at him. "You-san, are you skipping class again?"

"Shut up, junior," Youichi grumbled, and stole another fry.

#kurayouexchange #swwyz #kuraryou #daiya no ace #my fic

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cow3survivor · 4 years

Text

Ep. 2: “I’m Trying To Lay Low” - Jake

JENNET

plan worked fabulously purrrrrrrrr

(a little later)

maybe its me being paranoid but why are jake,jones, and lindsay always the last three to leave calls............ when i have a f2 with all of em....

JESSICA

Song of the day is ELVIS by AOA. My favourite workout bop. Silver got voted out! So sad, I wanted to play with him. But also, kinda cool! This is the only game I have played where I truly didn't know anyone (except my very first ORG). What an experience. I know last confessional I said Sam and Shane were both kinda on the fence for me in terms of if I wanted to maybe work with them or not. An update: I think I want to work with both! Both of them, unprompted, told me they wanted to work with me if we lost immunity, and I have actually been getting along well with both of them I feel now that our conversations are moving past the sort of awkward beginning stages. I still like Sammy even though I probably should talk to him more oops... and Daisy/Lovelis/Ethan are also still in my good books. I kind of keep forgetting Pete and Cloud are on this tribe but when I remember, I am happy they are here. That being said, I think Cloud or Madison will be the first to go if we lose. Cloud is very inactive. Madison is too but she was at least on the call tonight. It might come down to how immunity goes. I want to participate because it will bond us as a team. That way even if we lose, I was a part of the team effort and won't stand out as someone who people don't know or want to work with. Also while I personally want Cloud or Madison out as I know them the least, I am not going to push it. I'll let somebody else throw out a name and as long as that name isn't Jessica then I will consider it. I sort of chilled today with the social game and only messaged people as they messaged me. The vibe of this team is very relaxed from what I can tell and I didn't want to overdo it with conversations and come across as too much. Tomorrow, my goal is to talk to every single person for at least 1 (one) whole real conversation. I might have to start using my good ol' tactic of sending people random youtube links and saying "what do you think of this" to get something going.... Honestly nothing starts a conversation like David Hasselhoff and his cinematic masterpieces that we call music videos. I hope the other tribe is full of problems so that when we eventually swap, I have a very easy time in this game.

LINDSAY

no recording tonight because i have a headache:( anyways i'm apparently not in as good of a position in the tribe as I was hoping. got left out of a six person group chat bc I was associated w Silver and people were nervous abt this vote w me. Jake luckily looped me in but I'm kind of bummed out people didn't trust me enough to let me in on this. I know it's probably just cuz Silver and I had been getting along alright the past two days but that means I'm in kind of a yucky position in the tribe that is starting to gear me up to a S6 type deal from survivor umich and I'm not fuckin' vibin. I'm gonna try to reach out (Nash appears to be ignoring me currently tho so lol) and try to fix that. I still want to work tight w Jones and Jake but I don't want them to be my only options. I need some more connections than that. ALSO WHEN SILVER DID THE THING MY HEART STOPPED LOL SO THAT MIGHT BE WHY IM BEING IGNORED also "you kept laughing at silver's jokes" was a comment someone leveled at me today and i couldn't find a good way to level and say i laugh at everything because that's how my brain is trained to react to everything. monkey brain cannot comprehend emotions so i laugh everything off. anyways i guess this is my clue i've got to step up. i mean, it's fine if i'm under the radar some because it's not merge yet so like it's fine, but i'm... worried. if nothing else we're even tho bc the galaghers got revealed as well as the six person alliance so we're all even here. bottom line is, i'm winning this fucking scavenger hunt this shit aint happening next week

JAKE

https://youtu.be/amXasrOidh0

y'all I'm still shaking from tonight tbh....

PENNINO

https://youtu.be/_26B1wn1pDw

JONES

https://youtu.be/7FngYQfYMB0

PETE

Nobody will want to vote me out if I have kittens and share pictures of them muahahahahahahahahahaha

JESSICA

Oh no, we lost! I hope that Shane and Daisy want to be a final 3 because that is what I am envisioning in my hopes, dreams, and mood board.

SHANE

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1mNEOfPVwOp-ltGoNTdEq59su-9Vl_Adm/view?usp=drivesdk

ETHAN

AHH TRIBAL IS SCARY MORE TO COME SOON BUT EVERYONE IS SO QUIET AND I DON'T LIKE IT BECAUSE I FEEL LIKE I AM THE TARGET BUT IF I AM I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHY IT IS JUST WEIRDLY QUIET AND MY PARANOIA IS EATING ME ALIVEEE

DAISY

https://youtu.be/tBDHsLvF8W8

NICOLE

WE ARE IMMUNE!!! I’m so excited to have flipped the vote on Silver AND got us immunity but, I’m gonna have to be more careful if I’m gonna go far in this game. I know I can be strategic, I can be a comp threat but I really have to work on making myself a little dimmer in the social department. If we swap or merge obviously down the line, I feel like I’m gonna have a LOT of different potential paths to the end but, it won’t matter if they all realize that. So I really really have to be careful here. I am playing this game with a level head so far and really trying to make my rounds daily to talk to people. I am close with Jake, close with Jones and close with Nash. I am working on forming better bonds with Jabari, Lindsay and Jennet right now and honestly to me, Pennino is a non factor as well as Mikey but I am obviously going to try to maintain being on their good side. So that’s all I got for this round it’s been pretty tame except for Jennet immediately leaking our alliance by accident. At this point I really don’t think it matters.

MADISON

Okay so our tribe is not superhuman and we finally lost a challenge so we will be attending tribal tonight. Nobody is really saying much in terms of what will happen which is extremely worrisome, however, I did hear Sam on call very subtly throw Cloud out there and I'm kinda hoping that Jessica and Shane heard that too and will kind of run with it. Daisy wants both of us to be safe and I feel the same way so I'm hoping that's what will happen. In other news!!! I have officially begun the idol hunt one round too late but perhaps that works out better because if something is found, I'll know it. So because of the way things were worded during the hunt, the idol has either been found already or whoever wrote this system wanted to through a red herring in there to trick us. I'm going with the latter because I feel like Jarod would do that. That's all from this neck of the woods for now, hopefully will be writing another one of these bad bois next round :*

SAM

https://youtu.be/liGOEuFKiFo

JENNET

I WILL die for jones btw...

(a little later)

Survived the immunity challenge... at what cost

(after falling asleep on the beach)

The way we accidentally won that comp is literally a joke.... period i guess?

PETE

so we lost cus we’re the beauty tribe not the brains tribe fuck math dude anyways, it’s been hella fuckin quiet like not a lot of people are on and aren’t really talking. Up until about, 4 hours before tribal Sam comes to me and says the vote is gonna be Cloud and i’m like what who why. All he said is “that’s what he’s heard” honestly i think it’s just his own idea but whatever. I don’t know Cloud at all so it’s fine with me. Sam, myself, Jessica, and Shane apparently are all agreed to vote Cloud and with Ethan’s vote that’ll be 5.

CLOUD

i have nithing to say other than i might just be the stupidest person on the planet. absolutley nothing is happening in my head ever. if i stay its pure luck HSKSHSNSKBSKS

NASH

smiles at immunity... this is cute it feels good to not be in danger for once! i’m honestly still worried my tribe might want to cut me at next tribal but at least tonight can be chill! i hope kiki is first brookeisa boot xoxo

SAMMY

honestly there is no tea, daisy found an idol and gambles her vote but she lost her vote early so no worries w that! I love her so much and i hope she doesn’t snake me...but daisy if ur reading this, in this moment i love dont snake me mwah!! I love Jess and I love Cloud but everyone’s telling me Cloud is the vote but I’m so sad because I had such a good time with them and they are one of the few funny ones in the game!! Anyways not much is happening we lost the challenge cause we are just bad at math...blinks...I don’t think I’m in any danger and this vote should be unanimous. I was also told someone said I was one of the few active people so that’s a check in my book!

JAKE

https://youtu.be/HmtSAjyQoJI

I'm trying to lay low so if I'm not very present on Discord the next day or so that's why hehe

PETE

so ethan is down for voting Cloud, sammy too. Cool great awesome hot. i’m just sitting here vibing and suddenly Sammy tells me that my (and Madison’s) name came up for a second. He said it went away and it’s Cloud for the vote but like jskdhd why do i aaalways get targeted bitch i’m literally just sitting here whYY can’t i relax for once?! Frfr every survivor game it’s always this person or me. I’m always the other option and i just don’t get why lmao

LOVELIS

This tribes been kinda dead until like an hour ago plss, a new alliance of 5 has been organised and somehow me and Shane managed to make it seem like it was Jessica’s idea? Don’t really know how that happened in all honesty but a vibe. Then Daisy also leaked that she’s in another alliance who’s actively idol hunting so that was a lovely bit of beef that I love to see - my guess is she’s in a duo chat with Jess and they’ve tried to get this group formed with people who they think are unconnected, unbeknownst to them that me and Shane have a final two deal and I kinda have one with Sammy as well that happened on day one but it’s not really developed as of yet, he’s not really tried to talk game with me as of yet, but all in due time I suppose there’s plenty of time for more shenanigans 😂

MIKEY

HONESTLY Chile. Not much tea going around since this round we won. Im very proud of Nicole as she literally carried us and I pray she'll do it again dhbhsfg. Ive started getting really close with Jones and she's so fun to talk to, im hoping me her and nash can form a little trio and work together but who knows. Jennet STILL hasn't replied back after like a week so idk what's up w them LMAO

JABARI

So our tribe loved it when we blindsided silver, it puts me in a much better position than before. Now I have to talk more to people and take time to realize what's gonna happen. As of right now I have 2 alliances. The big majority one and the one where its just me and Jake and Jennet.

JENNET

exactly....

https://open.spotify.com/album/0pWu9s2gPdVgqHpMR2LDEx?si=uOqh6Ar9RiqNLUfaBZEkvw

TRIBAL COUNCIL

youtube

#cowsurvivor #confessionals

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themyskira · 7 years

Text

Amazons Attack! - part 3

The story so far: Wonder Woman got a day job doing more or less the same thing she does in her regular job, except in disguise. Circe kidnapped “Diana Prince’s” sexual harasser partner, Tom Tresser, for reasons. Wonder Woman saved him, but was then arrested by the Department of Metahuman Affairs, who located her via a tracking device in a uniform that Tom was blatantly not wearing at any point in the story.

Now Wondy is being held to ransom in a secret bunker, her release contingent on her handing over the schematics to the Amazons’ Purple Death Ray -- a secret she has no access to nor any way of acquiring, as Themyscira is out of reach to all -- and Circe is preparing to resurrect Hippolyta, who doesn’t deserve this shit.

Part 3: Wonder Woman #8 -- Jodi Picoult (writer) and Terry Dodson (artist)

Diana’s still imprisoned in a high-tech cell in some DOMA sub-basement, while her two assigned guards gossip about her.

“Check her out — the chick’s freakin’ nuts!” says Guard #1. Diana is not doing anything particularly nutty. In fact, she’s not doing anything. She’s just sitting in the cell and looking depressed, as one might be after being wrongfully imprisoned, tortured and held to ransom for a WMD. To Guard #1, this is apparently evidence that she thinks she’s better than everyone else.

“She just wants to be free, man,” says Guard #2, and is it just me or do they sound like they’re talking about an agitated whale in a too-small enclosure?

Guard #1 responds with an incoherent ramble about how nobody in society is free, and we’ve all gotta work to pay the damn bills and go home to our wives every damn night, so “that crazy broad” had just better come to terms with the fact that she’s no better than the rest of us. Guard #1 clearly has some issues of his own to work through.

In Themyscira, Circe has exhumed Hippolyta’s corpse and resurrected her. All the Amazons are shocked and confused, despite the fact that they all saw Circe arrive at Hippolyta’s grave last issue and obliquely announce that she was going to restore Polly to life. So basically the rest of that last issue’s encounter went like…

Circe tells the Amazons that Diana has been imprisoned by the US government.

The audience is informed that, for this performance of “Amazons Attack!”, the role of Hippolyta will be played by a bloodthirsty, irrational man-hating harpy.

“It is always the same with the world of Man. What they don’t understand, they fear. And what they fear, the try to tame. To them, my daughter is the enemy… and enemies must be crushed. If it is war that they want… it’s war they will get.”

More clumsy wording here: When Polly says “enemies must be crushed”, she’s clearly referring to the Americans. But the previous sentence identifies Diana as “the [Americans’] enemy”, making it… kinda sound like she’s saying Diana must be crushed.

Tom, for some reason, has decided to return to the wannabe villains bar from last issue — this time to have a drink and complain to the bartender about how shit his partner is. Diana isn’t answering his phone calls, and Tom complains that “she probably can’t figure out how”.

How did they even pitch this guy as Diana’s new love interest? ‘He’s a complainy misogynist, she’s Wonder Woman in disguise! Together, they fight crime!’

Tom is called back into work. Even though the Department of Metahuman Affairs has plenty of perfectly serviceable offices and meeting rooms, he meets Steel in a deserted parking lot under the cover of darkness, as though he’s bloody Deep Throat or something. He’s even wearing sunglasses. In the middle of the night.

Steel tells him that the Wonder Woman case is closed, it’s out of DOMA’s hands, and the reason Tom hasn’t been able to contact his partner is that she’s been reassigned. Which, btw, so has Tom. He’s expected in Maine tomorrow.

Despite Tom’s well-evidenced lack of basic deductive skills, he manages to peg that something a little weird is going on here. Some particularly overwrought dialogue ensues.

Tom: I feel something yanking on my puppet strings, that’s all. Steel: Puppet strings? Ha— what does that feel like? Tom: Hard to say… Like an angel having its wings torn off. Steel: You’re no angel, Tom. Tom: People change.

Throughout this two-page scene, Tom delivers a voiceover in narration boxes. There’s no good reason that this should be here. It’s an abrupt and slightly jarring inclusion — the only narration boxes up till this point have been Diana’s — and the only narrative function it serves is to cover for the shortcomings of Picoult’s scripting by outright stating Tom’s motivations and feelings towards Diana.

They call me Nemesis. As I’ve recently been reminded, my name means ‘enemy’… […] but in naming Wonder Woman the ‘enemy’, they’ve crossed the line. To me, Wonder Woman’s synonymous with everything good about this cruddy world. She saved me, and I’m just one of many. And as for my own name… I’m about to live up to it.

Basically, Tom believes Wondy is synonymous with all that is good, and this is the driving factor that leads him to turn on his boss and colleagues and side with a supposed enemy of the state.

This seems like a good time for a quick review of Tom’s complete history of interactions with and conversations about Wonder Woman up to this point.

Complained about missing a chance to see Wonder Woman in the flesh because “I bet she looked hot”

Bought a Wonder Woman action figure to masturbate to give to his possibly-fictional “niece”

Acknowledged that Wonder Woman was a hero, but that it didn’t matter whether she’d done anything wrong because “it’s our job” to arrest her

Upon meeting Wonder Woman, peppered her with wildly inappropriate, objectifying remarks, including describing his sex dreams about her, speculating on what it would be like to fuck her in mid-air and asking her about her sex life

Told Wonder Woman he wished he could work with her instead of his shitty partner, who is secretly Wonder Woman

Throughout the first two issues, Tom treats Wondy primarily as an object of lust. There’s a recognition of the good she does, but he’s more interested in her banging body than anything else. The one compliment he does pay her is an unwitting insult, because it’s tied to his largely irrational hatred of her alter ego. He loves the sexual fantasy of Wonder Woman, but can’t stand the bespectacled, pant-suit-wearing Diana Prince (especially when she dares bark out orders).

So this deep admiration for Wondy as a force for good in an ugly world — this belief that will drive all of his actions in this story going forward — has come completely out of the blue. It’s introduced only in the precise moment when Tom first decides to act on it. That is shitty, shitty writing.

Circe drops into Diana’s cell for a quick ‘you’re not so different, you and I’.

“You just don’t see how similar we are. Humans are afraid of us. We’re outsiders — we’re powerful women — and what we fight for is hidden beneath the blood on our hands.”

So, you fight for… your… hands? Your skin? Your… fingernails…? What—

Okay, no, I think what she’s trying to say is that people don’t see the lives Diana’s saved, only the bodies she’s left in her wake. Which, dude. Come on. You’re an evil sorceress who’s razed entire kingdoms and turns people into animals for funsies, but Diana snaps one measly neck and suddenly you’re calling her Lady Macbeth?

(yes, really.)

Circe says they’re both fighting for what they love. Then she immediately contradicts herself and says that only she is fighting for what she loves -- no matter what it takes -- whereas Diana is only fighting for good out of a sense of general obligation to be good.

Diana says that there is such thing as Right and Wrong, and that these things are distinct and immovable concepts, and that on its own makes me want to set this whole damn comic on fire, but then Circe takes it upon herself to give Diana a primer in moral relativism. Circe. Fucking Circe has a more thoughtful and nuanced understanding of ethics and morality in this book than Wonder Woman, what the flipping friggity fuck.

Circe says that it was once considered moral to own slaves, and “what’s considered right today could be wrong tomorrow”; Diana is skeptical.

Circe ends, as incomprehensibly as she began, by declaring that “love and murder are the only things that matter. They’re what it means to be human”, and therefore she will always be more human than Diana.

Tom uses his vaguely-defined master-of-disguise technology to impersonate Sarge Steel and break Diana out of her cell. She doesn’t trust him, since the last time the last time she saw him he was being congratulated for helping to apprehend Wonder Woman. Despite the fact that these congratulations were accompanied by a look of shock on Tom’s face and the revelation that he’d been tracked without his knowledge through a locator chip in a uniform he was not currently wearing -- something Diana also witnessed.

But, see, she has to be mad at him, because otherwise we couldn’t get that good old stock standard ‘here’s your lasso - ask me anything’/‘nah, I guess I’ll just trust you instead’ scene.

Armed DOMA agents arrive on the scene, and Diana does what we’ve all been wanting to do since Tom Tresser first stepped into this comic.

Diana: Tom, listen… Tom: You don’t have to say it… I know you must really love me right now. [Diana decks him]

It’s a fakeout, of course, so that when she escapes with him in tow, he looks like a hostage rather than a willing accomplice.

Speaking of escape — Diana’s free of her cell, but she’s still a good hundred feet beneath the earth in a secure bunker, with hundreds of DOMA agents between her and the exit. Fighting her way out of this one’s going to be a real—

—oh.

Or she could just punch her way through a hundred feet of solid rock, I guess.

Meanwhile:

The Amazons throw spears and shoot flaming arrows at things, and the biggest military force in the world pisses its pants at this terrifying display of Bronze Age weaponry. Nothing in the extensive training and experience of these elite fighting men and women has ever equipped them to deal with the horrors of women with pointy sticks!

“We’re no match for their firepower! We need help down here!”

Steel calls in the JLA and Circe swans around gloating because, gasp, the two of them are working together.

Diana’s reached the sewers. Tom has come to and, naturally, he’s found something to complain about — namely, the fact that she punched him.

Diana’s costume is pretty ripped up, so she asks Tom if he has a sewing kit. Because even though she’s just been illegally imprisoned, tortured and held to ransom by somebody claiming to answer to the President of the United States — somebody who, even now, is sending dozens of agents out after her — modesty is her first priority. Really.

All Tom has is some epoxy adhesive. Diana, evidently deciding that the risk of severely burning herself is preferable to the risk of exposing some skin, decides to use the epoxy to mend her costume while she’s still wearing it. But first, she asks Tom to close his eyes.

We’ve all seen some version of this scene before. You know what happens next.

Diana: Your eyes are closed, right? Tom: Uh… right. Clearly you Amazons have a lot to be insecure about aesthetically. Diana: It’s not a matter of insecurity… It’s a matter of… decency. Tom: [ogling her] I’ll tell you what’s decent. That birthmark on your— Diana: You’re a pig, you know that?! Tom: Well, you, coincidentally, are a pain in the same place you’ve got that birthmark!

Gee, I’m glad Tom Tresser thinks Wonder Woman is the lone bastion of goodness in the world. I’d hate to see how he’d treat a woman he didn’t respect so highly.

The argument is interrupted by an explosion, which of course results in Diana throwing Tom out of the way and…

A second ago they were having an argument sparked by Tom yet again disrespecting her personal boundaries and treating her like a sex object, and now suddenly she’s super turned on. Wonderful.

They decide to investigate the explosion. Flying out of the sewers, they find the city on fire and the Lincoln Memorial in ruins. And standing at the centre of the rubble is, of course, Hippolyta.

#when shamazons attack #comics talk

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descendantofthesparrow · 7 years

Text

Her voice Levi x Reader One-Shot

Key

h/c- hair color

e/c- eye color

h/l- hair length

s/c- skin color

y/n- your name

(a/n this is before the fall of wall Maria so squad Levi 1.0 Is still alive and the 104th squad is still in training, also you are two years younger than Levi and Levi is 21 in this so you are 19 and 11 months older than Petra.)

Italics are thoughts and song lyrics

Year 849

----Levi POV----

I leaned over my desk, working on the paper work Erwin had dumped on me, I’ve been working on it for the past four hours…my back and neck really fucking hurt.

Groaning, I leaned back in my chair and stretched my arms over my head and my back gave a pleasing crack ( a/n hey that rhymed!!! :p)

Sighing I placed my cheek in the palm of my hand while leaning on my desk, I tapped the papers with my pen, hoping that something exciting would happen soon…or maybe-

(listen to this while you read, btw Levi can hear the beginning guitar part as well, the acoustic one, not the electric one: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u9Dsg8zA8U8)

--You light my fire, mune kogasu shoudou ni touch What i want to hear kimi no emotion Whatever will be, will be ima wa gekiryuu no age How are you feeling? Boku no motion Tachimukau tame no strong ties te o tottara Are we ready to play fair ?--

My eyes widened, hearing the gorgeous voice echoing throughout the HQ halls, I relaxed and smiled ‘it seems (y/n)’s monthly concert has begun’

I stood up from my chair and began to head over to where her voice and guitar was coming from to enjoy her music that appeared after every expedition, which was in the mess hall, as (y/n) had said that it was the best place as it amplified sound best than the rest of the HQ.

--Just believe in myself Kono sekai de owannai yume Oikake speed up! speed up! Just believe in myself Kodoku na yoru o koete yukunda Mirai e speed up! speed up! Hashiridashita konkyo naki omoi Ima, just believe in myself—

As I arrived at the mess hall I saw the rest of the special ops squad standing around the door of the mess hall, rolling my eyes I walked passed them to get a front row seat…and also to get a cup of tea that (y/n) would put out for me when she was up late and she knew that I was as well…what?! Erwin and Hanji force the paperwork that they don’t want to do on me! Also insomnia.

(y/n) lifted her head to look at me when she heard my footsteps but she didn’t stop singing. She gave me a smile and gestured to the cup of tea in front of her. I smirked and sat down and began to enjoy the tea and relaxing music.

--I want to draw a dream nido to kienai hodo flash Turning round and round kizame passion Without you? With you? Kasaneau shunkan ni cry What's this life for towa no emission Tabidastu kimi e no good luck mata aetara Someday, live to tell the 'Tale'--

As (y/n)’s melodic voice began to grow in power, more people began to fill the room, but squad Levi and their captain had front row seats at the same table (y/n) was playing at.

Everybody had their eyes closed excluding me who was staring at (y/n) with pure love in my eyes.

--Just believe in myself Toki o koete kawannai mono Yakitsuke speed up! speed up! Just believe in myself Tsunaida te o hanasanaide Setsuna ni speed up! speed up! Afuredashita haruka naru negai Sou just believe in myself--

(y/n) and I had been in a relationship for the past year.

Nobody knew not even (y/n)’s sister Petra knew, who was EXTREMELY close to (y/n) so it was surprising that Petra didn’t know, though a little more than a year back, Petra had come into my office

---flashback---

I was doing my paperwork when I heard someone knock on my door, “name and business” “Petra Ral sir and I need to talk to you about something” Petra spoke with a giddy voice

I sighed, thinking she was about to confess to me, and leaned back in my chair “enter” Petra opened my door walked in and closed it behind her, and she stood in the middle of the room with a face splitting smile on her face

I rose an eyebrow at her “what is it Petra?” she bit her lip and opened her mouth, I winced internally and prepared myself to crush her heart as I did not feel the same, cuz I loved her sister…(y/n)

“do you like (y/n)?” I stared at her for a few moments in confusion “huh?” Petra began to hop up and down “cuz she has a crush on you~!!! And I wanted to find out if it was requited~!!”

I stared at her with a shocked expression, “well~ I'm going to head out to training, get to confessing heichou~! I want to be an aunt!!!!!”

Petra turned and ran out of the room, while red began to spread over my face ‘(y/n)…has a…crush on me?...yes!!! yesyesyesyesyes!!” I jumped up from my chair and began to do a happy dance around my room “yesyesyesyes!!!! She likes me back! she likes me back!!!!!” I flopped on my couch and shoved my face into the throw pillow.

“Yes!!!!”

---flashback end---

About a month after I found out, I confessed to (y/n) after one of her concerts. she squealed and planted her smooth and plump lips on mine, marking the beginning of a happy and at the moment, a year long relationship and I was about to propose to her, to hopefully become her husband, and to think that I used to hate all this lovey dovey stuff and now…I don’t think I would be able to live without (y/n).

As (y/n) finished her song clapping began to sound through out the hall, Petra giggled and went to praise her older sister

“That was amazing (y/n)~! was that a new song? cuz I’ve never heard it before.” “thank you Petra, and yes it was thought I’d throw in a song I wrote a couple days ago”

“Well, it was awesome~!” (y/n) chuckled and gave a small bow “why thank you, my lady” Petra gave a snicker and bowed low to the ground making a fake posh accent

“You're welcome your musicness~”

The two sisters stared at each other for a few moments with the most serious faces before they burst into laughter

I glanced at them for a moment before I turned to gain the attention of the rest of the soldiers “alright concerts over time for bed lets go”

“awwwwwwwwww” “boooooo!” “encore!” I rolled my eyes and said in a stern voice “that’s an order!” they shrunk back and nodded and headed back to their dorms, and my squad passed me next, the four saying good night before head back to turn in for the night.

I nodded and moved my attention back to (y/n) who was drinking the last of her tea, I walked up to her and kissed her cheek, she smiled and booped my nose. I smirked, wrapped my arm around her waist and guided her back to my room, where she sometimes stayed…because of nightmares, mine specifically.

Usually of (y/n) dying in horrific ways, or her getting kidnapped and me being unable to save her.

Just…just things that make me unable to sleep soundly, unless she’s sleeping with me, then they all just become dreams…like (y/n) and I getting married, having kids, her teaching me how to play guitar.

Good dreams, ones in which I don’t want them to end.

---time skip 4 hours---

“Gah!” I shot up in bed, gasping for breath. A nightmare, one in which (y/n) and I had gotten into an argument and we left for an expedition and I never got to apologize…she died, she was ripped apart in front of my eyes.

I can still hear the echoing screams…the gut wrenching bloodcurdling screams that just felt like a sword to the heart.

As I sat on my bed letting out silent sobs, the sheets rustled next to me, ‘shit’ I thought ‘I woke her up’ I forced myself to stop crying and wiped the tears from my face.

“Levi” (y/n) whispered “are you alright” I sniffed and nodded “yeah I’m good”

She narrowed her eyes at me “no you’re not” she lifted her hand and cupped my cheek “your eyes are red and you have tear tracks on your cheeks”

I sniffed and leaned into her hand and gripped it with my own, “what happened?” I didn’t answer “nightmare” I nodded “aww baby come here”

She guided my head to her chest and held me close.

I couldn’t hold it anymore and began to cry into her chest

(y/n) gave a sad smile “what was it about” I sniffed “we-we had an a-argument an-and-and we left for an expedition and you-you died and I never got to apologise” I sobbed into her chest, and (y/n) began to pet my hair and run her nails up and down my back causing shivers to go down my spine

“shhh it's okay”

Even with her soft spoken words I did not cease my sobbing

She sighed and gave a sad expression before a figurative light bulb appeared over her head

She took a deep breath before letting her voice sing through the dark thoughts in my head

--Come stop your crying It will be alright Just take my hand Hold it tight--

She took my hand

--I will protect you From all around you I will be here Don't you cry--

She lifted my chin so I looked into her eyes

--For one so small, You seem so strong My arms will hold you, Keep you safe and warm This bond between us Can't be broken I will be here Don't you cry--

She kissed my forehead before resuming her song

--'Cause you'll be in my heart Yes, you'll be in my heart From this day on Now and forever more You'll be in my heart No matter what they say You'll be here in my heart, always--

She took my other hand and put it on the place where her heart beat

I gave a small smile and kissed her cheek, she smiled back and pecked my lips

“okay back to sleep cuz I'm really really tired from today's expedition”

I snorted and tucked my head under (y/n)’s chin and slipped into a heavy and dreamless sleep.

---time skip 3 months---

“Petra! take the left aberrant, Oluo! Take the right! Eld, Gunther! Take the two up front! (y/n) with me!”

“yes, sir!”

(y/n) and I shot up to the multiple Titans in front of us and began to slice the napes with ease.

“haha!!! Take that you fucker!!”

I turned to see that (y/n) had taken down the largest titan and, holy fuck now I remember why I let myself fall for her!!! (y/n)'s a badass!

“nice one (y/n)!” “why thank you heichou~! I did my very-ah!!!”

My eyes widened and I froze, as she was talking an aberrant had sneaked up from behind us and grabbed her, crushing her in its grip. I heard her ribs crack as is gripped her in its palm

“l-Levi!!!” (y/n) stretched her hand out to me, at that I snapped out of the frozen state I was in and sprang into action.

“(y/n)!!! hang on!” but I was too late…the titan opened its mouth and tossed my beloved in its disgusting mouth.

“L-LEVI I-I LOVE YO-“ the Titan's mouth snapped shut, cutting off her last words, I stared in horror at the scene.

“no…no…(y/n), y-you can't be”

I felt something inside me break and I let out a bloodcurdling scream

“GIVE HER BACK!!!”

---time skip---

I laid in my bed, sobbing into my pillow. I couldn’t breathe, my snot clogging my sinuses.

“(y/n)” I sobbed “i-im so so-sorry” I clutched onto my pillow

“I love you too”

“im sorry”

---outside Levi's room---

“poor guy” squad Levi, Hanji, Mike, Erwin, and Nanaba stood outside levis room, where they heard Levi crying his heart out.

“I guess shorty isn't emotionless after all huh?”

“I guess not”

“so I guess him and (y/n) were together?”

“I suppose I don’t know why they kept it a secret I wouldn’t have stopped them”

“probably thought It was against the rules Erwin” “Well it's not Hanji, the only thing I would've worried about was if it got in the way of their duties”

Petra was listening to Levi apologizing to her deceased sister and apparently…his lover.

Petra sighed and internally prayed for her sister to visit her captain in his dreams and give him some closure.

--back with Levi--

I sniffed and began to sit up, I looked to my left and there leaning against the wall…was (y/n)’s guitar.

‘I forgot that she left it in here’

I stood up from my bed and walked over to it and picked it up and positioned my fingers on the correct cords to begin a song

‘I remember when she taught me how to play’

---flashback---

“Now put your fingers here and here”

A broken, teeth hurting chord came from the guitar.

I sighed and put the instrument onto the ground

“I’m never going to get this right”

(y/n) scoffed and rolled her eyes

“You're don’t going to if you don’t practice, besides you’ve only been trying for an hour and a half”

I pouted and crossed my arms

“whatever”

(y/n) huffed and shoved the guitar in my arms

“practice makes perfect now come on do the chord”

I rolled my eyes and positioned my fingers in the correct area’s and strummed

A clean chord

“there ya go~ okay now the next one”

“fine”

---flash back end---

And after months of practice, I was as good as (y/n), learning all the songs she created and created my own as well.

I positioned the guitar in my arms, put my fingers in their correct position and began to play the song that I was going to play when I proposed to (y/n)

(song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0UMHEk1FXd0)

--You and I, we're like fireworks and symphonies exploding in the sky With you, I'm alive Like all the missing pieces of my heart, they finally collide

So stop time right here in the moonlight 'Cause I don't ever wanna close my eyes--

Memories flashed of (y/n) and i

--Without you, I feel broke Like I'm half of a whole Without you, I've got no hand to hold Without you, I feel torn Like a sail in a storm Without you, I'm just a sad song I'm just a sad song--

When she and I first got together

Our first date

First kiss

--With you, I fall It's like I'm leaving all my past and silhouettes up on the wall With you, I'm a beautiful mess It's like we're standing hand and hand with all our fears up on the edge

So stop time right here in the moonlight 'Cause I don't ever wanna close my eyes--

First time

When we almost got caught by Erwin

Tears began to stream down my face once more

But I forced my voice not to break

--Without you, I feel broke Like I'm half of a whole Without you, I've got no hand to hold Without you, I feel torn Like a sail in a storm Without you, I'm just a sad song--

When I taught her how to clean up to my standers

Her laugh

Her smile

Her (e/c) eyes filled with love for me

--You're the perfect melody The only harmony I wanna hear You're my favorite part of me With you standing next to me I've got nothing to fear--

Her soft (h/c) (h/l) hair

Her smooth (s/c) skin

--Without you, I feel broke Like I'm half of a whole Without you, I've got no hand to hold Without you, I feel torn Like a sail in a storm Without you, I'm just a sad song--

When she would prank me with Hanji

When she would help me with paper work

When she found out when my birthday was and she got really excited

…

….

When I got the engagement ring, the one which will never be slid onto her ring finger

--Without you, I feel broke Like I'm half of a whole Without you, I've got no hand to hold Without you, I feel torn Like a sail in a storm Without you, I'm just a sad song, I'm just a sad song--

With the last chorus, I strum the last chord and ended my song and let myself break down once more

“fuck” I whimpered “I sorry (y/n) Im so sorry”

I collapsed onto the floor in pain

“I love you”

---final time skip year 851---

There it was the sea, a beautiful blue spreading out as far as I could see

“Oh (y/n)” I whispered to myself “I wish you could see this”

I looked down to see my boots dug deep into the sand

“shorty~!!!!”

I snapped my head up, to see Hanji waving me over

“come on the waters fine!!!! And take off your boots the sand feels awesome!!!!!”

I huffed and obeyed them

“fine shitty glasses im coming”

I took off my boots and rolled up my pants to my knees

I made my way to the edge of the water and stared at how it reflected the sunlight…just like (y/n)’s eyes

“isn't it amazing shorty”

I stayed silent for a few moments before answering

“I guess so”

Hanji seemed to think for a few moments before opening their mouth

“(y/n) would've loved to see this”

My shoulders sagged

“Yeah..”

Hanji and I were silent for a minute before Hanji snapped back into their usual self

“okay well that’s enough sadness for me ima go jump into the water see ya!!!”

I rolled my eyes and looked down at my feet where the water crashed over my legs

“I wish you could see this, my love”

I looked up to the sky above me

“I miss you”

--- the last skip I swear!---

I walked along the edge of the water in silence, humming one of (y/n)s songs…the one she sang to me when I had the nightmare.

-- Come stop your crying It will be alright Just take my hand Hold it tight

I will protect you From all around you I will be here Don't you cry--

I sang softly into the night as the stars that shined above me

-- For one so small, You seem so strong My arms will hold you, Keep you safe and warm This bond between us Can't be broken I will be here Don't you cry

'Cause you'll be in my heart Yes, you'll be in my heart From this day on Now and forever more You'll be in my heart No matter what they say You'll be here in my heart, always--

I sighed and continued my adventure

(song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GPYRNo4Jyyk)

--Yume wo otte mayoikonda kokoro no mori no oku Kagami yori sunda izumi utsuru yuganda Smile--

I stopped in my tracks

‘I know that song’

I turned to face the area the song was coming from

‘and the voice!’

I didn’t think before sprinting towards the voice

--Koboreta namida wa (Don't Cry) kin demo gin demo nakute Arifureta namida (Fall From My Eyes) megami mo kizukanai--

It was getting louder the more I ran

‘please be her please be her’

--Masayume Chasing Chasing Koero motto jibun shijou saikou no Ima wo Chasing Chasing Sou egaita jibun ni natte moyase mune no hi wo--

As I came to a stop I realized that in front of me was the place where the singing was originating from

‘please please be her’

As I stepped into the clearing I saw

“(y/n)” I whispered, there standing in front of me, was (y/n), in a torn and roughly mended uniform

But to me, it was like seeing an angel from heaven

(y/n) hadn't noticed me yet so she just kept singing in her gorgeous voice that I've missed for six years

--Na na na na na na na Oh Na na na na na Hey Hey Na na na na na na na Oh Kakenukero Hero--

I walked further into the clearing before accidentally stepping on a branch.

(y/n) stopped singing and slowly turned around.

As soon as she realized it was me she began to sprint towards me and glomped me causing me to fall backward, both of us laughing

(y/n) held her self up staring down at me with love and happiness in her eyes

“Levi” (y/n) whispered

“(y/n)”

I cupped her cheeks and pressed my lips to hers, healing the broken parts of my heart with it.

(y/n) pressed back lightly before taking control and dominance and shoving her tongue in my mouth

I let out muffled laughter and reluctantly pulled away.

“I missed you so much (y/n)” Tears came to her eyes

“I missed you too Levi”

I pulled her into my arms and we cuddled for a few moments before a thought came to my mind

“(y/n)?” “Hmm?” “how’d you get out of the Titan?”

“I sliced that motherfucker open”

“ah that makes sense”

(y/n) giggled for a few moments, before becoming silent.

We cuddled for a few moments more when I remembered something…The engagement ring.

I have it in my pocket.

I was going to throw it in the ocean hoping that it would transport it to (y/n)

“hey (y/n)?” “Yeah?”

I leaned away and lifted her off my lap (y/n) looking at me with confusion

I grabbed the box from my pocket and kneeled in front of (y/n), her eyes widened and she covered her mouth and tears appeared in her eyes

“l-Levi?”

“(y/n), I never got to do this six years ago, because I thought the titan ate you, but now that I have the chance im not going to lose it. so (y/n)”

I opened the box to reveal the diamond ring that made me broke for half a year

“will you marry me…when we get back to the walls?”

(y/n) stayed silent for a few minutes, and I started to shift in place

“(y/n)?”

“Oh sorry YES!”

(y/n) tackled me and attacked my face with kisses

“ok ok come on let's go tell Hanji that you’re alive huh?”

(y/n) snickered and nodded

I grasped her hand and lead her back to the camp

Finally, I have her back and my broken heart was put back together.

And her voice that I've missed for the past six years have returned to me…and im never letting her go again

---the end---

Songs:

Believe in myself - edge of life

You’ll be in my heart – Phil Collins

Sad song – We the kings

MASAYUME CHASING - BoA

Levi belongs to Hajime Isayama

you belong you

the story belongs to me

#levi x reader #levi x #snk #aot #snk levi #aot levi #attack on titan #levi attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #levi shingeki no kyojin #snk x reader

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