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jedimaster3000 · 2 years

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Chapter 1: The Prisoners

Din Djarin x Fem!Reader

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Language, canon-typical violence, abuse (non-sexual). Please let me know if I miss anything!

Word count: 5.5k+

A/N: I’m literally so nervous, this is the first time I post here but it got some love on AO3 so I might as well give it a try. Also please forgive the divider thingy, I’m gonna figure out as I go! Enjoy!

Preface:

Pardon me, my love For words do not make sense of this I feel. You must think me mad, But I would say I'm drunk, 'Cause I find your passion to be the sweetest wine. Your body, calls for me every night Your hands, and their sweet touch Your eyes, so loving and bright. Pardon me, my love I really have begun to turn mad. But I would not change that fact; And I'd like to write these words across the stars.

Masterlist

The light in the cell was always dimmed, only sources of it coming from under the closed door in front of you and the little red light of the recharging droid on the corner. No windows, no sunlight, no moonlight. It had been months in this Maker forsaken planet of which you didn’t even know the name.

The room in which you were was too warm or too cold, never the right temperature. On this particular day, it felt too warm, enough to make you pull your hair up and open one of the buttons of your uniform. Sweat settling on your brow and the back of your neck. And on top of that, you had only showered today, there were two days left before you would have another opportunity.

This place had stopped feeling too claustrophobic, but it still wasn’t comfortable. Almost completely empty, the only things in it were your bag thrown somewhere, the droid connected to a wall, and your cell which took at least 3/4 of the room.

The cell itself was one of the worst you had been with, only a toilet and a “bed”. 7 years ago, your first cell was one of the best ones the Empire had, on the most secured imperial facility of the galaxy. It was all downhill from there.

Your body itself had trouble adjusting to all the changes. The weird schedules, the constant dragging, and add to that, only in the last 4 years, the injected substances. You could never get used to that, your body was having a really bad time. Constantly feeling like you had been run over by a speeder.

But if it weren’t for all the drugs that the shaky hands of the trooper would put into you, you would be a piece of gelatin. Your strength and sanity were only preserved because of the artificial vitamins, proteins, minerals, and the pieces of bread with some water that you were offered.

The same thing that could kill you, kept you alive. It sounded like a song, one you would probably like if it weren’t so relatable.

It was a mistake. Running was a mistake. You knew you were doomed from the moment you put one foot outside the facility on Coruscant, but you were too stubborn, too young, too naïve, and too hopeful to know. You believed in something bigger than yourself.

But for the last 7 years, all you knew was suffering and loneliness. Obeying orders to get your food, doing your job right so they wouldn’t dip your head in cold water to learn your lesson. Your survival instinct was the strongest of any person in the galaxy, and it was proved every single day since the day you got caught.

You moved uncomfortably on your “bed”, the piece of metal with a makeshift blanket and a pillow. You grabbed the chest of your uniform and tried to fan yourself with it, resulting in just a light breeze that could not turn off the flame of a birthday candle. It was one of those nights you couldn’t sleep, probably one of the doses you were injected was too strong again, keeping you awake for longer than needed. It was all a cycle, in two days you would be too tired to keep going and they would inject too much again.

After at least 45 minutes more trying to find a comfortable position, the door opened behind your back and the yellow light came pouring through the little space. You stood immediately, looking at the stormtrooper on your door with eyes wide open and both of your hands on the sides.

“Doctor Pershing needs you,” said the trooper walking to you with the keys in his hand.

“I’ll be right there,” you answered.

When the door of the cell opened, you walked straight to your trusty droid and turned him on with ease. The yellow lights of his eyes flickered a couple of times until he came back to life, instantly floating.

“Doctor, what a nice sleep!”

You slightly smiled at your friend and replied, “Good thing AZI, now we have to get to work. Doctor Pershing needs us.”

The droid nodded and floated in a straight line following both the trooper leading and you, the young prisoner behind.

Prisoner? Doctor? Imperial? The line became more and more blurry every day.

Walking through the door you immediately bowed your head a little to Doctor Pershing who nodded back. A strange pod hovering next to him called your attention, but you moved your eyes off as soon as you laid them on it. It was best not to know too much.

You kept your eyes on the wall with concentration, not a good idea to let your eyes wander around in the doctor’s workroom. But you still had a clear idea of the place, just not enough information to detail it too much if somebody asked. It was bigger than your room, by half at least. There was an examination table, lots of cabinets —you didn’t know what they had, it could be anything— on three of the four walls, two trolleys filled with medical supplies, and two wall units which held a couple of books, notebooks, and binders filled with victims probably, or patients as doctor Pershing called them.

You maintained your position while the doctor kept mumbling nonsense when looking for something in his medical kit. AZI moved to his side when called and assisted the doctor in everything that was requested.

That little AZI-122 droid, the one thing you would never leave behind, the one thing you took care of the most. Programmed him to be useful as well as to be a good droid, almost like a friend. Some people in this galaxy would laugh at someone for having a friend droid, but when all the humans do is treat your poorly and you can’t have any of them as a friend, you turn to droids. And that little one was the only one you had. You were proud of him, you did really well with his programming.

“Doctor, please tell me. Were you part of the Tarkin Initiative?” said Pershing.

You swallowed, “Yes, for around two years.”

“Did you have the pleasure to lead a group? Or were you part of one?”

The tone of his voice was one you didn’t hear too often, you didn’t recognize any sarcasm like usual or any mock. He just seemed to be asking a question like any others. But like any question he asked, you had to answer quickly and straight to the point.

“I had a small team of four on my command. We mostly did research on medical and biological fields.”

The doctor turned around to face you, “Well can you tell me what were you researching for then?”

There was that slight curiosity mixed with sarcasm again. He, unlike other imperials, didn’t think you were as bright as others described you.

“I don’t know doctor,” you answered still looking straight at the wall. “We mostly tested animals and also new drugs, we cross-tested them as well. Tried many combinations of drugs in different species, most species had a similar response to that of human beings,” you lowered her head a little bit, “but we were never told what was the purpose of the research.”

Doctor Pershing lowly chuckled and shook his head slightly while approaching the pod, “Of course not, Moff Tarkin was very secretive.”

He pushed a bottom on the pod and it opened, you heard a soft coo and the hair on the back of your neck went up instantly.

There’s no way that’s a baby.

“Would you look at this creature, isn’t it outstanding?” you finally turned your head in the doctor’s direction.

There he was, holding a tiny green bundle with huge ears completely wrong. The little head was trying to hide and you could see AZI’s confusion at all of this, after all, this looked like a weird species that definitely wasn’t part of his programming.

The doctor had a wicked smile on his face as if he was thinking of all the possibilities this little one offered. It was damn right cruel, and it made you sick to your stomach. If you had learned one thing from this mad doctor, he was sadistic, which was the opposite someone of his profession should be.

You turned your attention to the baby once more, the little creature was still trying to hide its little head but the huge ears made it difficult, the little arms were waving to show how uncomfortable the hold of the doctor was. You felt it too, you couldn’t help yourself.

“May I?” You said reaching out your hands shyly. The doctor looked uninterested and passed the baby without caring, he turned around and continued looking in his medical kit.

You held the baby softly laying him in one arm and with your other hand pulled down the neck of his sack-of-potato-like clothing to see the big eyes looking straight at you.

The innocence you saw in those eyes captured you immediately. Pulling you in like gravity, and holding on to your soul directly. As dark as the vacuum of space, but with two sparkles that played the role of stars, shining really bright. At that moment, you knew. This baby was special.

And that’s why your heart also instantly broke. This baby was now in the hands of the Empire, or at least its remnants. That meant he was in danger, he was in danger even in your careful hands. Because you knew what could happen if you didn’t obey orders. But then the little hand of the baby wrapped around two of your fingers and softly cooed at you. Once again, you couldn’t help herself.

“What are you gonna do to him?” you asked all of a sudden.

Doctor Pershing stilled in his movements, sensing your immediate shivers at realizing what you had asked. He turned around to look at the way you were holding the baby and this time, he laughed at it.

Shaking his head he said, “I don’t think you’ve learned enough from the Tarkin Initiative doctor.” He took two steps forward. “You don’t need to know what the research is for.”

“But-but this is a baby.” You said once again too quickly. “Doctor Pershing surely you understand, testing on living creatures is completely—“

“Shut it, woman.” He said and came closer. He pointed at the baby, “Do you know what this one’s species is?” You shook your head. “Well neither do I, and neither does the Empire. So it is our job to find out for them.”

You should have stopped, you really should have. But the feeling of the hand tightening around your fingers was too much, “And then what?”

Doctor Pershing finally had too much, “Insolent woman! Rebel scum! Then he’s no good to us anymore, just like you will be at some point!” He screamed getting closer to your face, and then he snatched the baby from your hands. “Troopers! Come in!”

A squad of four stormtroopers on their dirty armors and holding on to their flawed blasters came in as quickly as they were called and surrounded you.

Fuck, is best not to know too much.

“Take the doctor outside and give her some time to…” he grinned. “Refresh herself.”

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath in anticipation. Thankfully, it was just too warm in your cell, the only good thing about being drowned would be the cold water.

Two of the troopers held on to your arms and the other ones escorted you out of the room. But before the doctor yelled, “And bring her back in a few hours! She needs to get her work started.”

You turned your head over your right shoulder and gave the baby a look however you could. He looked at you with a confused and almost sad look that became engraved in your memory. You quickly looked at AZI to let him understand.

You protect your patient, that’s your number one priority.

- - -

Two full gallons of cold water and four shots later. You were restless in your cell, fumbling with your fingers while you waited to be called again.

Doctor Pershing ordered for you to check the baby’s blood and the progress of the research every two hours. And so you did, without complaining, but with blue lips, wet hair, and trembling hands.

So when you were called for the third time in the middle of the night, you obediently walked to the room to find AZI still floating in the same spot waiting for you. You gave him a small, forced smile.

“Doctor, glad to see you again.”

“I know, I know buddy, you say it every time,” you chuckled and closed the door behind you. “Come here, let’s recharge you for a while.”

“Oh, that would be wonderful!”

You walked across the room to the droid to connect him, he stopped hovering to just lay on the table while you got ready to do your usual routine. You let a big sigh out and turned around to face the baby laying on the table with his vitals showing, still as normal. Thankfully.

His little face was peaceful in sleep, you couldn’t help but press your lips in a small smile. He was okay, at least for now.

You checked your datapad with all the vitals and frowned.

“There is nothing abnormal yet showing on his system.”

“Well not that we know of doctor.” Said the droid. “After all, we are checking his vitals as we would if it were a human being. Which visibly, he is not.”

“But he is a humanoid of sorts, don’t you think?” You said looking at the droid. “Just think about it. After all, we have these vitals, they are not incomplete. Yes, we could be missing something, but this means he has the same vitals as a humanoid, and realistically, this one is probably not over a year old. He makes sounds like a baby, he sleeps like one, undisturbed.” You scratched your head in thought. “I just can’t wrap my head around it. Have you checked the database of the Empire to see if there’s anything on this one’s species?”

“Yes doctor, several times. The closest thing I’ve come across is the Lannik species.”

“Lannik species?” You raised your eyebrows looking at the droid. “I don’t think that’s it, they’re usually orange, purple, red, or blue. This little one is green.” You walked around the room. “Also, by the time the Empire rose to power, Lanniks were rarely seen off their homeworld, I doubt that’s any different now.”

The droid kept quiet for a second and tilted his head to the side, “Dear, it seems like we have a lot of work ahead of us.”

“Indeed buddy.” You sighed. “Okay, so let’s start with—“

You were interrupted by the sound of blaster fire hitting very close to the door. Instinctively you turned to the door and stepped in front of the baby’s body to protect it with yours. When the door opened, you saw the guard trooper’s limp body fall to the floor and a big figure came from the shadowy hallway.

An armored person, presumably a man since you did not see any noticeable breasts and the shoulders looked too big. The armor was shining as bright as possible, it looked brand new and the helmet he was wearing had a T-visor that only made this person look even more intimidating just from that fact, despite having a blaster in hand, and several other weapons attached to his body.

The perfectly shaped armor, that helmet, and the shining material. It could only mean one thing.

A Mandalorian.

You would have been absolutely starstruck by someone like this, someone from an ancient warrior culture, believed to be extinct by now. You would admire the whole armor and the breadth of the body, you would read more about the culture and think of more questions. You would be freaking out of your mind if it wasn’t for the fact that he was holding a blaster aiming at you.

You raised your arms and flinched with the approach of the intimidating man. When he cocked the gun towards you, you extended one hand, “No, no, no, please don’t shoot. Please don’t shoot!”

The panic in your voice was evident in the way you keep repeating the word “No” and pleading for mercy.

He took two steps forward and held your wrist, knocking you out of the way with brutal strength.

The baby.

“No! Please! Please don’t hurt him! It’s just a baby. No, please.” You continued your cry out for mercy when the armored warrior approached the baby, blaster still cocked in his hand.

But to your surprise, the mandalorian inspected the sleeping baby and then turned towards you again, pointing the blaster. You put your hands in front of your face and closed your eyes just waiting for the impact.

“What did you do to it?” the man asked firmly.

You mumbled something not understandable and he got closer, intimidating you even more, “What did you do to it?”

“I didn’t do anything, I swear,” you said still covering your face. “I was just checking on him as doctor Pershing asked.”

“What are your plans for it?”

“I don’t know,” you felt the blaster get closer. “I don’t know! He wouldn’t tell me!”

You felt nothing for a few seconds and still filled by the fear on your veins, you slowly opened your eyes and let your hands open to see the mandalorian wrapping the baby in the blanket and aggressively turn back to you, to which you flinched one more time.

He took a step towards you, grabbed your wrist in the same strength as before and said, no, not said… He demanded, “You’re coming with me.”

- - -

The last time you tried to escape an imperial facility, well, it ended up on you being a prisoner just like you were now. At this point it was a bad joke, escaping once again had turned you into a prisoner, or at least that’s what you thought, but this time of an intimidating mandalorian. Who had cuffed your hands and kept you close while dragging you and shooting all people who came through.

There was a trail of limp stormtrooper’s bodies after the three of you, and you couldn’t help but look for AZI all the time. You knew how smart he was, he would be able to find you, but not if he didn’t make it past the door. You desperately wanted to turn back and run to get him, but you were too afraid of the obviously well-trained warrior in front of you, and in your mind, there was something new confusing you.

Why was he here for the baby?

There was no way that they could be related, those ears would not fit under that helmet. Maybe he was rescuing him to get him back to his family? Maybe he knew more about his species? That wasn’t something you should truly worry about anymore. The fear, the confusion, the adrenaline, and the lingering effect of all those drugs were messing with your system and you couldn’t get a word out, that’s why you didn’t even protest when he started dragging you along. That and the fact that he was heavily armed.

What you didn’t know you were feeling, was that you were happy you were getting out of that facility, you were running from that imperial scum. And the moment you walked out of that place, it finally hit you.

You looked at the floor, dark grey and dry, unlike anything you had ever seen before. A volcanic planet? What the hell was the empire doing in this place? Volcanic planets that looked like this were just as lawless as any sand planet, there was no way they could get a hold of this place. Fools, the Empire was full of fools, fools who thought themselves bigger than they were, and projected that across the galaxy with weapons (all of them secretly flawed). Their strength was in creating fear, world-class terrorists. If people saw right through them, they would see the real faces of the fools who hid behind titles of generals, admirals, moffs, all making the same mistakes over and over again, relying only on their twisted wits to try and save the day for the bad guys. And when they couldn’t, all they did was turn their failure into rage to provoke others to just fall to their knees scared. When in reality, regular folks could laugh at the Empire’s face and they could never do anything about it. Not now at least, with all their big weapons destroyed and all left being those horrible aimed blasters by those stormtroopers who are only loyal to the benefits they get from the Empire.

The scientists were some of the only smart minds in the Empire, but those scientists left were not good people and you knew, they all treated you like shit. But they had that one thing that made you qualified for the Empire, believing you’re a big deal. You called it scientific ego and swore not to ever fall on that hole.

The Empire was a fucking joke. And you hated everything about it.

All caught up in your thoughts of mocking the Empire, you didn’t notice the stop the mandalorian had made, and you didn’t notice all those people aiming their blasters at the three of you. Your breath hitched, and you hid behind the mandalorian’s back.

“Welcome back Mando,” said a male voice from a couple of feet away. “Now put the package down.”

The baby.

You turned a little bit to check your surroundings and it didn’t take long to come to a conclusion. Bounty hunters, package… the mandalorian was another one, and the baby was likely a bounty. Fear wrapped itself in you at the knowledge that these people wanted to shoot you dead right on sight, only because of that fact that you stood next to the one they actually wanted.

But this only confused you more. Why would he rescue a bounty?

Although another question came just as quickly and it answered the previous one, as well as it gave you some information about the mandalorian. Who wouldn’t wanna rescue a baby from the Empire? Suddenly you were conflicted on this metal man. Intimidating as to kill a legion of people, but soft enough to risk his own life for a baby, who probably wasn’t his.

What a funny and strange duality. Maybe some reading could give you some answers.

“Step aside, I’m going to my ship,” the mandalorian said firmly.

There was a subtle chuckle and the same voice as before said, “You put the bounty down, and perhaps I’ll let you pass.”

“The kid’s coming with me.” He left no room for argument.

“If you truly care about the kid then you’ll put it on the speeder, and we’ll discuss terms.”

Mando turned his head to the speeder and saw the astromech turning his robotic head to him. He left a sigh out and mumbled to himself, “Fucking droids,” but it was enough for you to hear.

“You stay behind me,” he whispered only to you and you slightly nodded.

Why were you obeying him? Maybe because all you knew how to do was obey people who you thought could hurt you

“How do I know I can trust you?” Mando asked.

“Because I’m your only hope.”

This really made your head go around and around about this man. What the hell did he do? He was really involved in something fucked up probably.

You followed the mandalorian to the speeder, making yourself as small as you could, which was easy next to the huge pile of metal this man was. Once next to the speeder, your breath was suddenly all quick and desperate. What were you supposed to do now? You turned to the mandalorian and saw him looking at the baby. You did the same, looked at the little bundle with his eyes closed in deep sleep and suddenly your breathing calmed a little bit. He was still safe, you just had to try and keep it that way.

So when the mandalorian quickly passed the baby to you and started shooting, you covered the baby with your body to avoid anything hitting him.

“Get on the speeder!” he yelled while shooting.

You got in as fast as you could, laying down on top of the baby, but leaving enough space to not crush him. He opened his eyes and looked at you with that same innocence from before but this time a little cry came out of him.

“Shh, it’s okay little one,” you tried soothing him, “ it’s okay, you’re gonna be okay,” you said trying to give him your fingers to calm down. “I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.”

“Drive!” You heard from the side and turned to see the mandalorian laying next to you screaming at the astromech, who just beeped that he couldn’t. So without patience, he pointed his blaster at the droid and yelled again, “Drive!”

And the droid did. Started driving in a straight line while you were covering from the blaster fire, coming from every direction. You heard the mandalorian shoot back and not once did you hear a grunt of pain or curse, so you assumed he must have great aim.

He’s a Mandalorian for Maker’s sake!

��Eventually, the speeder was shot down, and the baby started to cry again this time in the middle of silence. And while you soothed him with words, the mandalorian had taken out his rifle.

An Amban rifle, the perfect weapon for someone as mad as him right now. Ruthless to everyone, not regretting one time evaporating someone to death. After years of carrying deaths on his shoulders, it all became too easy to carry. But he never enjoyed it, no. It was a necessity, not a wish.

“That’s one impressive weapon,” the man talked again.

Mando sighed, tired, and said, “Here’s what I’m gonna do. I’m gonna walk to my ship with these two, and you’re gonna let it happen.”

The anxiety came back to you as soon as he finished his sentence. Walk in the middle of this? With nothing assuring your safety? You’d be back at the hands of the Empire in no time.

“No,” the man replied. “How about this? We take the kid and if you try to stop us, we kill you both and we strip your bodies for parts.”

And that was enough for Mando, he just kept fighting. Kept shooting while you dreaded for your life and wished you could just run away from everything in your head like you had done many times before in the past 7 years. You tried to block the sounds of all the different blasters, you thought that by closing your eyes really hard and covering your ears it would be enough. But it was impossible, with everything going on. Your system felt overloaded, both from inside and outside it was too much to handle.

And Mando stopped fighting, when you noticed him, he was looking right at the two of you holding on to each other. The kid’s hand around two of your fingers and your breathing all sharp and rushed.

He shook his head, “I don’t know if we’re gonna get out of this.”

You didn’t understand why he said it in that way as if he was worried. He had just turned you into his prisoner and suddenly you thought he felt sorry for you.

But you could work through it, you decided to suck up all that fear in you in favor of the kid in your arms, you didn’t want his last look at you to scare him.

You nodded your head, “It’s okay,” you looked back at the kid to continue soothing him. “Go back to sleep buddy, shh,” you said softly. “It’s okay,” you reassured him when in reality, you knew you were fucked.

But you didn’t actually know, and he didn’t know either. Nobody knew that a group of mandalorians would come flying down from the sky to protect them. To protect one of their own and the people with him. After all, mandalorians are one altogether, there isn’t one without the other.

One of them landed closely and said to Mando, “Get out of here! We’ll hold them off.”

“You’re going to have to relocate the covert,” Mando said while shooting.

The other one stopped momentarily and look at him straight, “This is the way.”

Mando responded, “This is the way,” then he turned back at you. “C’mon, let’s go.”

He took the baby from your cuffed hands and started running, you quickly followed him but stopped just for a second to see the man who previously talked, “Thank you!” You screamed and he nodded.

“Go.”

You ran as fast as you could, a couple of paces behind Mando, passing through all the stores that looked forgotten and closed at this time of the time, dust leaving a trail after you. When you ran through the gates of the town, you took a breath of fresh air. You felt deep down in your soul that whatever was waiting for you now, was better than what you left in that place.

Fuck the Empire.

The three of you finally arrived at what seemed to be the mandalorian’s ship and you stopped just before the lowered gangplank. You turned around and looked at the town, now further away. It was a volcanic planet, a bounty hunter’s guild place, and completely lawless. It was Nevarro, of course, how did you not know before? Nevarro with its Twi’lek healing baths, and the lava underground river, and the…

A body stumping next to your feet scared you and you let out a little scream. The next thing you felt was the mandalorian’s hand on your bicep, pulling you up the gangplank.

“I’m sorry, I just—“ you were cut off by him setting you down on a crate and pulling your hands up to cuff them to the wall.

I guess that meant nothing at all.

You stayed quiet, feeling guilty of staying behind too long. He probably thought you were going to escape. You put together some courage to ask a question.

“Where are you taking me?” You asked timidly but he didn’t respond, instead going up the ladder to start the ship.

You let out a sigh and heard a familiar sound come from a little far. You tuned your ears and recognized it immediately. It was the sound of AZI-122 cutting through the air and going as fast as he could.

“Oh dear!” he exclaimed when he saw the body of a man at the end of the gangplank.

“AZI shh,” you said lowering your voice, “come up here.”

“Doctor, what ever happened to you?” he said trying to lower his voice as well.

“I don’t know. Well I do, but I don’t know what he wants I just—“

“Would you like me to remove your cuffs?”

“No, no, that could make him mad,” you said and then slightly smiled at him. “I knew you would make it here AZI.”

“Well of course doctor, I just had to follow your tracking device.”

The smile rapidly fell from your lips, “My what?”

“Look! And I made sure to bring your bag,” he said showing it to you. “I brought your blanket, your pillow, your datapad, even the clothes you haven’t worn in—“

“Listen AZI, that is very nice and I thank you,” you said cutting him off. “But I don’t think this mandalorian really likes droids so you should hide.”

“Oh, dear! A mandalorian! Doctor, just think of the possibilities of studying his people’s customs and the weapons and—“

“AZI, I’m serious,” you said once again. “Now take the bag and go hide, I’ll figure something out.”

“Of course doctor, my apologies,” he said picking up the bag. “Have a good night.”

And he left hovering until he got lost in a dark room to the back of the ship, you left out a big sigh and heard the steps approaching the ladder once again. Quickly trying to look casual, you turned your head looking outside. You felt his head cocking at you, wondering if you spoke to herself or what, but also, he wasn’t really interested in making conversation. So he just let it pass.

He walked past you and touched the right buttons to close the gangplank and left out another sigh, “I’ll talk to you tomorrow, now sleep.”

The tracking device.

“Actually, I—“

“Sleep,” he said, going up the ladder once again.

There were a lot of problems coming your way, and you would be responsible for the next one.

- - -

Next chapter

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin #din dijarin x reader #mando

38 notes · View notes

fabricated-misslieness · 3 years

Text

Albedo x gender neutral reader

I love Diona, Qiqi, and Klee. Too bad qiqi ain't from Mondstadt

Windblume Series: Bennett // Diluc // Jean // Kaeya

Requested: No

Word Count: 883

You loved stealing Albedo's notes. They contained everything from the easily observed to the details you could only learn from long periods of study. Even if it would get in trouble with the soft-spoken Alchemist, you would take them. One of the main reasons you stole them was because of Diona and Klee.

They did not ask you to steal them, of course not, but you loved amazing them with everything Albedo found interesting enough to study.

The notes you'd taken that day were on plants, fitting for this time of the year: the Windbloom festival.

One of the most peculiar plants in his notes was lamp grass. The kids would love this plant.

"Lamp grass!"

They tilted their heads at you, "Lamp grass?"

"Yes," You handed them one cutting each. "Strange, don't you think?"

"Yeah!" While Klee stares at them curiously, Diona stares at them with a look you'd learned to be malicious intent. "I wonder how bad they taste."

You sigh but continue to share Albedo's notes. "Shake them."

Klee shakes them with vigor while Diona does less so. As they do, the 'lamps' of the cuttings jingle with a peculiar sound, a sound that seems like you're rubbing mora between your fingers.

"Woah!" Klee exclaims. "You could make music with these!"

You laugh, "I'm sure you can. Anyway, they're quite delicate, so don't let the lamps be-"

Before you can say anything else, both girls have both squished the lamps between their fingers. The result of which is an oozing, jam-like, blue substance.

As if she had just found some big discovery, Klee gasps out loud. "You could make colorful bombs out of this!"

"This would taste horrible!" Diona gasps as well. Although, for the record, it doesn't.

"Girls-" You watch in horror as the substance seeps into their gloves and stains them. "Oh, archons, Jean and Margaret are gonna kill me."

"And what have we here?" Much to your dismay, Albedo walks in before you can do so much as take their gloves off. It seemed the seven were out to ensure your death today. "(y/n), Klee, Diona. I figured I'd find you here."

He clicks his tongue in annoyance, "Of course you've stolen my journal. Of course you caused trouble."

"Albedo, I'm sorry!" You throw yourself at his feet, apologizing profusely. "I was just warning them when they squeezed them! You know kids, they-"

The alchemist pulls you off your feet abruptly. "It's fine. Turn the page." He gestures to his journal.

You obey. The next page is a guide on how to clean lamp grass stains. "Oh."

"Yup." Albedo moves towards the girls, who are focused on playing with the substance. When they notice his presence, they come running to him.

"Albedo!"

"Hey, girls." He kneels down in front of them. "Look at you, your gloves are all dirty. Let's get these off you."

Even when you know you're about to be scolded, you appreciate him. He looks motherly when he takes care of the kids, makes you wonder if you'd ever get any of your own.

With the gloves off and in his possession, he stands, turning towards the exit. "Entertain them while I'm gone, will you? When I'm back, (y/n), you and I are going to have a talk."

Uh-oh.

"Look, (y/n)." The alchemist, as soft-spoken as he was, was scary when provoked. He sighs, "I get that you only wanted to entertain the girls but could you not have called me?”

“Well,” You rub the back of your neck, looking anywhere but him. If you did, his beauty wouldn’t allow you to tear your eyes away. “I did steal your journal.”

What you had not expected of him was a laugh, and an amused one at that. “That is true. It’s also pretty cute that you were trying to entertain them.”

You were expecting a big scolding, not this. You turn to him in shock, which turns out to be a big mistake on your end.

Albedo gives you a playful smile, “You’re making sheep’s eyes at me.”

“I, well… You’re just really pretty.”

Seemingly out of nowhere, he cups your jaw, running his thumb along your cheek. “You’ve got a couple of lamp grass stains.” He laughs, “How can I be mad at you when you’re just so cute?”

“Albedo-”

He cuts you off with a quick peck. “Look, dear, as long as you don’t cause any major problems, I won’t be mad at you. But please refrain from stealing my journals, would you? It was its disappearance in the first place that made me suspect you, so save yourself the trouble.”

Lamp grass may not have been much of a romantic plant, what with it not even being a flower. But, it was a candidate for Windblooms for a reason.

For Albedo, it was one of the most peculiar of plants. Even as a handler of other-worldly flora, the plant was a strange one. Peculiar objects often held romantic auras he could not explain; as if they had come out of the fiction section of a library.

Despite the fact he’s an alchemist seeking for the world’s answers, he liked keeping some oddities unexplained. They kept their charm that way.

You were one such oddity. He could never explain who you were.

#albedo x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #windblume series

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tastyykpop · 3 years

Text

𝐶𝑟𝑎𝑧𝑦 𝑖𝑛 𝐿𝑜𝑣𝑒-Part 1

Pairings: yandere mafia leader!baekhyun x reader

Genre: suggestive, smut in later chapters, angst probs, fluff here and there but its very lowkey

《teaser next》

Warnings: kidnapping, drug use, alcohol consumption, baeks kinda crazy, pet names, master kink, spanking (he literally spanks her once), choking (not in a kinky way), mentions of blood and murder

Word count: 4.9k

Tag list: @wooya1224 @geniusloey tell me if you want to be tagged!!

⚠️ this is purely fictional and not how I imagine baekhyun to actually act. If you feel like you're in a situation like this please run and report it. I do not support this behavior.

How long has it been? 3 or 5 days? Maybe even a week. You didnt know nor did you care. But why would you? You've gave up caring ever since your boyfriend, Sungho was murdered right in front of you, but you couldn't even see who the murderer was which drove you insane.

Tears and blood stained your pretty skin that night, so much agony and rage ran through your veins. All you wanted to do was curl up into a ball and scream until you passed out. But its been days since you've gotten a proper good night's sleep and it was eating you away ever so slowly. Everytime you closed your eyes, you remembered that dreadful day, Sungho's screams, the terror on his beautiful face, his lifeless bloody body. What did he do to deserve death? Why did it have to be him?

"Y/n! Y/n, its been four days please come out of your room!" It was the familiar voice of your mother and her knocking that brought you back to reality. She was almost begging, she hasn't seen you since you locked yourself away that night so you couldnt blame her for being worried, but you were fine. "I'm coming in."

She pushed your door open to see you cuddling your blanket with no emotion on your face. You looked at her with barely any care and rolled over, facing away from her.

She sighed and sat on the edge of the bed, "You know y/n, we'll get to the bottom of this and have them put behind bars. It's gonna be ok-"

"No its not," you rasped from not using your voice in so long, "I dont even know what the murderer looked like, how can we put them behind bars!?" There was a small pause, she knew finding them wasnt likely which hurt you like hell, but she was still trying her best to comfort you.

"...At least come out of your room, everyone's worried." Your mother pleaded and though you really didnt want to move, you didnt want to upset or worry anyone any further so you got up.

With a smile, she did the same and led you downstairs to where you dad and sister were. They tensed when they saw you, but nonetheless smiled sadly, thanking the heavens you were okay.

"You look horrible..." your sister, Haeun, commented making you cringe. It wasnt like she was wrong, you spent four days not taking a shower and sitting in the same clothes so of course you looked bad, who wouldn't.

You excused yourself and went into the kitchen grabbing the first thing you saw, a bottle of vodka. Now it wasnt the best drink you could've had, but you decided to drink away your pain and suffering since you couldnt take the heart ache any longer.

"Shes doing it again." Your mother whispered but you heard her clear as day. "Shouldnt we stop her?"

"What for? She won't listen and she's traumatized. There's nothing much we could do right now." Your dad spoke with sadness watching as you took a quick swig from the substance.

Normally, you're not one to drink vodka but now it felt good, maybe too good. The more you drank it, the less pain you were in. It could last forever, you thought, but nothing lasts forever.

As you poured yourself another drink, you started wondering about Sungho again. If there were an afterlife, was he happy there? Would he be watching over you, making sure you were happy and healthy?If only it were that simple.

Though you and him were starting to drift off a bit, you still cared and loved him and now you're starting to take everything you guys went through for granted. Its what you get.

Standing up, you left the kitchen a bit dizzy from only drinking alcohol and having nothing else in your system and went back upstairs to take a shower. You decided after drinking, you wanted to go to the club you always go to. Normally, you didnt go on a Thursday, but you thought since you haven't been out in a while that it would be good to leave and breathe in the fresh air.

You took a fairly quick shower and your hair and makeup didnt take long either. Finally stopping to look at yourself in the mirror, your saw how pale and tired you were. Almost lifeless. You figured that once you finally have a good time, it would all go away and you'd be happy again.

"Where are you going?" You jumped at the voice of Haeun who appeared out of nowhere.

"To the club." You stated nonchalantly,

Haeun frowned, "Thats not a good idea, all you'll do is drink until you pass out. And there's always weirdos waiting for their turn with someone vulnerable like that."

A smile formed on your face trying to lighten up the mood a bit, "Ill be fine. I promise nothing bad will happen."

Haeun sighed, almost sounding like a bratty child who didn't get their way because she knew she wouldn't change your mind no matter how hard she tried. It sucked to have a stubborn sibling like yourself.

Sehun rolled his eyes at the sight of Baekhyuns scheduled flirting session. The girl was dressed in barely anything and he could tell she was probably Baekhyuns new toy for the night as he started getting handsy with her. But Sehun could see how Baekhyuns eyes weren't always looking at her. Instead, they sometimes searched passed the girl in hopes to find something else. He knew what, actually who he was searching for so he never asked or mentioned it.

He remembered you perfectly. Your calm and sleeping figure laying peacefully on your boyfriends chest. It was a shame he had to wake you up while he killed the man. And it was a shame to see such a pretty girl cry and scream with such fright in her eyes.

But Sehun didn't feel that bad, he did what he was supposed to do with only a little remorse.

"Sehun," Baekhyun called, the younger lifted his head waiting for him to continue, "Are you sure you didn't hurt my little toy the other day?"

Sehun scoffed, "If I did, I'd be dead by now, hyung."

The man chuckled sadistically , "She hasn't been here in a while," Baekhyun looked up from the girl and turned to Sehun, "Its only safe to ask."

"Hyung, I told you before that shes probably scared." Sehun face palmed when Baekhyun glared at him.

"A little red shouldnt effect someone that bad."

"I kil-" Sehun stopped what he was about to say, forgetting about the girl straddling Baekhyuns lap and cleared his throat, "Shes not used to stuff like that, Baek."

He didn't care about what Sehun said and ignored the youngests pointless blabbering, returning his attention back the girl only for a short amount of time until something caught his attention.

You walked in his club with confidence and beauty not giving any staring man the time of day and took your usual seat at the bar. After ordering your drink, you put your head in your arms and Baekhyun grinned.

Now was his chance, there's no way anyone will get in his way and there was no way he'd let this chance go.

"Stay here." Baekhyun said to Sehun, pushing the girl off him as he stood up. She almost pulled him back but he gave her such a terrifying death glare that made her stop.

"Theres no way youre actually gonna go talk to her...right?" Sehun questioned a bit shocked that Baekhyun was actually going to you after so long.

"Of course I am, I'll be back." With that, Baekhyun walked away from the two with only one thing on his mind: you.

He waltzed with a smirk of pure evil. What would he do? Only God knew, but he couldnt help himself when he saw your pretty face.

All eyes watched Baekhyun stop next to you, astonished that he went to talk to a girl and not the other way around, "Excuse me sweetheart," You popped your head up in the direction Baekhyun spoke, he took a seat next to you with an almost comforting smile when he saw your red cheeks, "But are you okay."

You wanted to spill everything that happened so bad because you needed to get it out, but you didnt know the man and neither did he know you so all you could do was nod, "Im fine."

Baekhyun knew behind your lying eyes was someone in pain and searching for a person to hold, but he couldnt do anything just yet and tried loosening you up to him so he could do what he wanted to do in the first place.

"C'mon sweetheart, you can tell me anything." He smiled that charismatic smile of his, "I'm easy to talk to."

It was believable for the most part and you laughed a bit, the first laugh you actually had since that tragic night, "You seem like a sweet talker," you smirked causing Baekhyun to chuckle, "Whats the catch?"

"There is no catch, I just wanted to know if youre okay. And besides, I could tell you've been crying." He pointed to your tear stained cheeks and you mentally cursed yourself for unintentionally crying just a few moments ago.

"Oh.."

"Dont worry," He chuckled, "Whatever it is im sure you'll get over it." Baekhyun almost failed to hide his sinful smug as you frowned and covered it quickly with a swig of your drink.

But something inside was eating you away about what happened, you needed to let out your emotions and you started caring less and less that he was a stranger. Then again, what if you scared him away? What will happen next?

"At least tell me your name first," You blushed and shyly looked over at him who had an expecting glint in his eyes, "Then maybe ill tell you why I'm so upset."

Baekhyun stretched his hand out in front of him and you gently shook it. Damn he had a strong grip, "My names Byun Baekhyun and you?" He asked as if he didnt know who you were.

"Y/n L/n." You beamed, wondering why his name was so familiar. "So uh- my story..." Fumbling with the drink in your hands, you sighed heavily, "Long story short, my boyfriend was...murdered in front of me." You mumbled the last bit, but you didnt need to repeat yourself as Baekhyun already knew every single detail of that night thanks to Sehun.

Placing a soft hand on your shoulder he whispered with fake sympathy, "I understand now why you're so upset," Liar, "I feel terrible," No he doesn't.

He wiped a stray tear that had slipped down your cheeks and sent you a solemn look.

"I-its in the past i guess." You muttered, "I can't change a thing about it."

Damn right you couldnt. Even if there were some form of time travel, Baekhyun wouldn't dare let you try and change the past because that would mean you weren't entirely his. But since there isn't anything like that, Baekhyun has nothing to worry about except figuring out how to bring you back with him.

"Would you like a glass of water, y/n?" Baekhyun asked quickly as a thought popped into his head. You nodded your head slowly and Baekhyun called over the bartender. You werent really paying attention to him ordering the water and just let your mind slip to the sound of the music and looked around the room, tapping your fingers to the beat, but you stopped when you felt a pair of sharp eyes watching you from somewhere. You looked here and there before stopping on a man that was a about a few inches taller than Baekhyun. He had a eerie grin on his face when you noticed him, then he winked.

Chills went down your spine and you spun yourself around in your chair facing forwards causing Baekhyun to raise an eyebrow but he didnt question it.

"Heres the water." He handed the drink over and you thanked him before taking a sip. It tasted a bit weird but not all water tasted the same, though it was slightly dry for water.

"So tell me about yourself, y/n." Baekhyun checked his watch, all he needed was fifteen minutes then you were all his. "You seem like an interesting person." He looked up and smiled.

"Well," You thought about what was possibly interesting enough to tell him, "Im in my second year of college!" A smile crossed your lips.

"Oh really? Where do you go?" Baekhyun did seem interested to know some parts of your life. Somehow, you caught his attention like that. Thats why Sehun was a surprised when he finally made his move with you.

"Seoul of Performing Arts." You beamed. It was the happiest moment in your life when you got accepted and all of your family members, extended and close, celebrated your acceptance, "My boyfriend, Sungho, went there too."

He just about rolled his eyes but replaced it with a nod and a fake warm smile. If you knew him better, you'd know that smile was only him clenching his jaw in anger.

"How cute." The glint in his eyes proved he was lying and maybe you were too stupid or innocent to notice when you took another sip of water.

He watched and wished his plan could go faster, he was excited to have fun with his pretty little toy and he couldnt wait any longer.

"What about you?" You raised a brow. There was still something in your gut that made you feel like you knew him. And you still wondered why. Was he someone famous in the city? Maybe you've heard your friends mention him here and there? What was it about him that was so familiar?

"You'll know soon enough kitten." You frowned at the pet name as he pat your head like you were a small child yet you chose to ignore it.

It was a bit outlandish and made you more skeptical to know who he was.

"Thats not very reassuring, Baekhyun." Your quirked.

"Why tell you when I can just show you?" He leaned in, mocking your now pouty lips and chuckled, "The drugs should be setting in by now."

You lifted your head up with wide eyes, "Wait what?" Did you hear him right? Did he say what you thought he said? "What do you mean drugs!?" You said with awestruck as your heart raced in fear. You hoped to god he was just joking

The man before you smirked that unpleasant smirk of his, almost like the guy you saw before and you started panicking more, knowing he wasn't kidding. You tried to get up and run but you felt so woozy in a matter of seconds. Not to mention the sudden pain in your stomach that made you want to throw up. What was Baekhyuns plan? Why did he do this!? You thought at least one thing could go right tonight and maybe you could have fun, but you were wrong. So so wrong.

Trying to leave the club building, you knew you wouldn't make it but you still wanted to attempt an escape. It didn't have to be like this. Each step made it harder to move and your eyes started drooping. It was too late for you.

Already collapsed on the ground, people gasped and stared at your almost lifeless body as Baekhyun tilted his head to the side, "She tried, ill give her that." He walked over and crouched down next to you, moving the hair out of your pale face, "But not hard enough."

In an instant, your body was thrown over the man's shoulder. No one commented on anything that happened in fear that they could be next. It was impossible to say that they felt bad either, they were just glad it didn't happen to themselves.

"Sehun," He called out to the younger male but Sehun was already ahead of him, "You drive." He tossed him the keys.

With a nod they both walked out, you on Baekyuns shoulder as he took you to the expensive car. Gently, he placed you down in backseat, putting your seatbelt on for you, and climbed in on the other side to sit next to you.

"All this just for a girl." Sehun shook his head but needless to say he still smirked, "Youre loosing yourself, hyung." The car sparked and drove off into the night, no cops came searching. They knew better. And neither was there news of your kidnapping, the city stayed quiet.

Sure once your parents realized you were gone they'd start freaking out, but would they dare mess with Baekhyun? Would anyone actually try to mess with him? The mafia could easily answer that with an optimistic no. Remember, Baekhyun had power. No one is going to stop him.

"How long will she be out for?" Sehun asked.

Baekhyun shrugged, "Like an hour or two." He was excited for your life with him now, he knew you were finally his after a year of watching you come and go in his club, plus the small stalking he did when he wanted to see you, and he could only smile. No one can get in between him and your love anymore. "Shes gonna love it when she gets home!"

Sehun chuckled at Baekhyuns almost child like enthusiam and started, "She seems a bit innocent," he paused, looking back at your passed out body in the mirror before returning back to the road, "Normally women don't look off into space when someone's buying them a drink."

"Maybe she's a bit slow, but she wouldn't be here with me if that didn't happen."

The candle flickered in the dark as you awoke on a strange bed. You're head was pounding a bit as you tried looking around at your unfamiliar surroundings. What happened? Was your first thought and you started questioning where you were too. You knew something wasn't right but you couldn't understand why.

You tried getting up only to be locked in place by restraints on your wrists. They were only silk but they were tied tight enough to keep you still. Tilting your head in confusion, you heard foot steps coming towards the door and stopping for a mere few seconds before the door handle twisted.

You anticipated what was going to happen, you didnt even know what was going on in the first place, but you remembered the man standing in front of you.

"B-Baekhyun..?"

"Hey, kitten." That sinister smile was plastered on his face. You were sure it held more meanings then just one.

"Where a-am i?"

He almost cooed at your curiosity but composed himself, "At my mansion, where you'll be staying from now on."

There was a moment where you had to think, interestingly enough what Baekhyun said didnt even frighten you in the slightest, but then again you were high off the drug.

"C-Can you u-untie my hands please?" Your voice was soft and quiet, Baekhyun noticed you werent fully aware of your surroundings and complied, untying the silk from your wrists.

Your eyes were a little dilated when you looked at him. He was gorgeous, you had to give him that, though you wanted to remember why something wasn't sitting right with him. "Baekhyun?"

He looked up with a hum.

"Who...are y-you to me?" You squinted your eyes at the man who sat on the bed next to you, drawing small shapes on your thigh in a sort of loving manner.

"Your boyfriend, y/n."

Boyfriend? You have a boyfriend?

"I have a boyfriend..?" You muttered and asked more to yourself than to him, but he snickered, knowing way more than you did.

"Kitten you drank too much, go back to sleep." He lied and pushed your shoulders down so you were flat against the mattress.

"I-i did?" You whined when Baekhyun kissed your cheek. He always wanted to kiss more than your cheek, he couldnt bring himself to do that unless you were fully conscious for him.

"Yes baby girl, so get some sleep."

You grumbled, "I-Im not t-tired."

Baekhyun sighed, "Then what would the pretty girl like to do?"

You perked up on the mattress and grinned, "Im hungry!"

"Youre hungry?" Baekhyun repeated with a smile at your small childlike energy and you nodded back, "I can ask someone to make you something if you'd like."

"Please!"

He stood up, waiting for you to do the same but since you weren't very awake, you stumbled a bit.

Baekhyun settled with carrying you to the mansions kitchen, awing at your cuteness the whole time. It was a bit of a walk but luckily you were light.

Sitting you down, Baekhyun walked off, finding someone to cook for you. In your state, you felt a bit lonely, only knowing Baekhyun and not your surroundings, it made you feel a bit lost. It shocked you too how you didnt remember Baekhyun being your boyfriend, you started question the relationship between the two of you more.

"Princess i got you your favorite dish!" He walked in with a plate of jjajangmyeon and set it down in front of you.

Your mouth was watering and you were ready to dig in before wondering, "H-How do you know m-my favorite dish?"

Baekhyun hesitated at the question before clearing his throat and spoke with a raised brow, "We're dating y/n, why wouldn't I know what you like?"

"Uh yeah..right...." you dug in, your mind was starting to clear up a bit, not enough for you to fully remember anything though. But the more you thought, the more consciousness you regained.

Baekhyun watched as you gobbled down the meal with full satisfaction. This wouldn't be the first time he's watched you and neither would it be the last. He liked knowing you were eating well and were healthy so he was proud.

"I-im done!"

"Good girl. Now wait for me to come back so we can go to bed, okay?" You nodded and sat patiently as he took your plate and waited for your boyfriend to come back.

A few moments later, Baekhyun still was no where to be seen and your mind was slowly coming back, "N-no...wait." mumbling to yourself, you figured it out in just mere seconds and remembered that your boyfriend was brutally murdered four days ago in front of you. After four days you went to the bar to drink away the anguish and met someone, that someone was Byun Baekhyun. After thirty or so minutes of talking to him, you were drugged when you werent paying attention and passed out minutes later. Now you were here at Baekhyuns mansion, lied to and kidnapped. "Oh fuck."

The chair scraped against the floor and you wasted no time running to your hopeful freedom.

But you weren't a lucky person. Oh no you weren't. You were tossed and pushed against the door you were about to open by someone much bigger. He was the same guy you saw at the bar and his smirk was nothing different. Cynical and frightening.

The man stepped closer to you before putting one hand next to your head and whispered, "Are you playing a cat and mouse game with hyung now? How cute." Standing tall, he grabbed you by the hair and dragged you back to where you came. You groaned and tried fighting back, but there was no use, he wasn't going to let go until after he practically threw you into Baekhyuns arms.

You were about to scream at Baekhyun and the no name man until Baekhyun covered your mouth with his hand, "Say something and you'll regret it." He growled into your ear as you shook and fought.

You hummed against him and tried biting his hand and punching his side, but he was like a man of steel and let it happen, only raising his brow like he wanted to hurt you, but didnt.

"Sehun, tell Chanyeol to lock all the doors for the next week or so 'til she learns how to behave."

The man nodded and ran off leaving you two alone. Fear was one way to describe it and the look Baekhyun gave you didnt help.

"Now kitten why would you go and do some shit like that? Are you asking to be punished?" He took his hand off your mouth to let you speak. Baekhyuns aura was much different than earlier. The nice guy was gone and you were left with a man who could kill you with just one look.

You stopped hitting him and screamed viciously, "Fuck you! You're fucking insane!"

"Now now princess," he pressed a hand to your throat, wrapping it tighter and tighter until you felt the oxygen leave your lungs, "It seems as if you're asking for a punishment."

"I-if you...s-so dare to-touch..any other p-part of my body, i-ill....kill you..." You whimpered, grabbing his wrist in attempts to pull him off but Baekhyun was relentless, keeping his grasp tight and painful.

"Stop struggling, you're only making this harder for yourself."

There were two options now, either listen to Baekhyun or fight until you passed out again.

"Princess." His voice held a warning tone and you hesitantly stopped and moments later he loosened his grip, you knew there would be marks by tomorrow, "We are going to bed now. Don't try to run, I have this place guarded up and if you do somehow make it out, be prepared because I will find you and beat your ass until you can't sit for a month. Understand?"

Your stomach did flips and not in a good way, you were scared, "Y-yes."

"Can you say 'yes master'?" His voice went higher as he said the last part to mimic yours.

You sighed, positive if you didnt comply then you'd be here all night, "Yes m-master..."

"Good girl." He kissed your cheek and you almost smacked him in disgust but tried not to act aggressive towards him. You wanted to leave, not be punished by whatever he had in mind. "Call me that from now on."

Baekhyun grabbed your hand and led you to the room you were just in, now that you took a good look, it was a pretty room. There was a red sofa against the wall and some other matching chairs plus a huge flat screen TV hanging on the wall facing the bed. You had to admit, he had good taste but he was still insane.

As you sat down on the bed, Baekhyun reached into his draw to pull out a t-shirt and handed it to you with a wide smile, but you raised a brow at the fabric.

"No pants?" You asked.

Baekhyun chuckled, "What for?"

"Because of creeps like you." You grumbled and snatched the shirt that dangled in front of your face before storming off into the connected bathroom. Inside, you could hear Baekhyuns annoying laugh and ignored it, changing into the surprisingly very oversized shirt that went down to your mid thigh.

Taking the clothes you wore earlier, you went back into the room where Baekhyun laid peacefully on the bed, waiting for you.

He only had his boxers on which made you groan in anger and decided to not lay on the bed and instead on the couch near it.

"Princess, what are you doing?" He perched himself on his elbows, watching you throw your clothes on the ground then take the folded blanket on the couch and wrap yourself with it as you laid down.

"Going to sleep, master." You stated coldly with a glare.

Baekhyun rolled his eyes, "Get over here." He said, voice low and laced with dominance but you remained still, closing your eyes and pretending as if you were asleep. "Y/n." He warned but there was no reply.

"Thats it." You heard him get up and march to where you laid. Baekhyun picked you up and you yelped at the sudden intrusion and were thrown over his shoulder.

Smacking his back got you nowhere as he threw you down on the bed, pinning both your hands down and hovered over you with a killing look, "Next time you don't listen, ill bend you over my knee."

"Youre all talk, no action." In an instant you were flipped over and a hand landed straight on your bare ass, leaving you shocked and mouth agape.

"Are you sure, kitten? Would you like me to spank you again?"

"N-no."

"No what?"

"N-no master.."

Baekhyun slowly let you go and laid beside you, still a bit irrated. "Now go to sleep."

You couldnt. Not with the lingering fear of what could happen next. Plus, not with his arm wrapped around your waist with a somewhat tight hold. You were just too scared to let your gaurd down. Why shouldn't you be scared though? What if he took advantage of your sleeping body and did something terrible.

There was no way you could get rest now. You could now count this as your fifth day without proper sleep.

#exo smut #exo #exo fluff #exo angst #exo baekhyun #baekhyun exo #byun baekhyun #byun baekhyun smut #baekhyun smut #mafia au #yandere baekhyun #yandere #kpop smut #kpop fluff #kpop angst #kpop #kpop scenarios #exo scenarios

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felassan · 3 years

Note

Hello! Been reading the wonderful lore posts about Solas' funky new mural in the trailer the last week and, as I was replaying Inquisition I came across this in the Fade.

Never held much significance before but now it makes me immediatly think of the post you made about the Evanuris, as well as the Old Gods. Do you think it might relate to either or none? I'd be interested to know what you think either way, your lore posts are a delight to read ^^

Hello! I love how the newest mural generated a bunch of discussion along with a whole heap of new speculative and theorycrafting posts! And thank you very much 😊 The rest of this post is under a cut due to length.

Edit: Sorry, not sure what’s up with the coding/layout of this post!

Back in the day, before Descent released, I originally assumed the Whispers were ‘echoes’ - if you will - of the imprisoned Evanuris. endure is quite elfy (suledin/endure, and the song of that name). “Crippled” and “polluted” and the red lyrium stuff in general work well if you subscribe to the theory that the Evanuris were tainted and/or red lyrium-corrupted when they were locked away (see tale of Andruil returning from the Void with armor made of darkness etc), or that they became that way or became similarly twisted after being trapped for so long, especially if said prison is the Black City [a Tainted place]. Linking it to the Evanuris also always makes me think of that one dialogue line from Cole when he’s talking to Solas: “They sleep, masked in the mirror, hiding, hurting, and to wake them - [gasp]”. Both that line and the Whispers contain similar elements like waiting, sleeping, hurting in a manner of speaking at least, and being woken up.

I haven’t been sure of that for a long time. Assuming no link between the Evanuris and the Old Gods for the purposes of this line of speculation, it could instead be to do with the Old Gods as you say. The remaining slumbering Old Gods have also been ‘there’, waiting and sleeping and being awoken in turn. Though it’s not quite “Whispering”, they do in a manner communicate with other beings while trapped - the darkspawn who hear their song and relentlessly search for them - and in their time they used to whisper to ancient Tevinter humans. However, a strike against it pertaining to the Old Gods would be the fact that the lore says they aren’t Tainted until the searching darkspawn find them. Like, I wouldn’t instinctively describe a still-sleeping Old God as “polluted”? A further strike could be that red lyrium isn’t something that automatically leaps to mind when thinking about the Old Gods, unlike when thinking about the Titans (see below) or even the Evanuris (the Andruil stuff again).

Another possibility is that it’s to do with the Titans. Stone endures, and the Titan in Descent had recently stirred. Titans sing (communication), there are other Titans out there and there’s a reference in the lore to a Titan awakening during the time of King/Paragon Orseck Garal. Blue lyrium is the blood of Titans, and a Titan with red lyrium blood or that had been afflicted by the Taint would certainly count as a polluted entity.

Finding dreams again and being crippled/sundered is also dwarfy language actually, despite the fact that dwarves don’t dream and the fact that it was elves who became sundered from themselves and the Fade when Solas made the Veil - consider Solas’ dialogue line where he says “dwarves [in their current state in modern Thedas] are the severed arm of a once mighty hero, lying in a pool of blood, undirected, whatever skill at arms it had gone forever. Although it might twitch to give the appearance of life, it will never dream”. When Valta connects to the Titan in Descent, although she ironically now no longer sleeps (which is usually a prerequisite to.. dreaming), she’s really reconnecting, regaining the connection to a Titan that dwarves used to have (like a severed limb being reattached). That’s where the sundered stuff comes in. At the moment most Titans, and Titans in general, are sundered from their children, the dwarves. In this way both the Titans and the dwarves are crippled, two separated halves of a whole.

After reconnecting, Valta writes in her journal about the world that once was, “before everything changed and the dwarven race broke in two” (i.e. before the dwarven race was sundered). And although she now no longer sleeps, when she closes her eyes she now sees glimpses of things that used to be, glimpses of things the Titan is showing and singing to her - what’s that, if not a form of dreaming? It’s not daydreaming per se, but the Titan is clearly showing her its memories, or dreams if you will, of what once was, and stuff, probably of what it hopes to see one day again too (given the loneliness in its song).. and ‘dream’ as a word has a broader meaning than just literally “images you see when you sleep”.

Anyway, the Evanuris or some of the ancient elves describe connected dwarves in Old Elven Writing as “workers” of the “pillars of the earth” [Titans], “scurry[ing], witless, soulless”, but how do we know they really were witless and soulless? It reads like one part propaganda and one part incorrect assumption, which isn’t a surprise because in that passage the Evanuris/some of the ancient elves were basically preparing to hunt the Titans and by extension mercy-kill some of the connected dwarves, who they perceived as witless and soulless. But reconnected Valta clearly isn’t witless and soulless, she just has a different manner of existence to what the ancient elves (spirit-adjacent as they were) had. Dreaming also comes up in relation to the dwarves as lyrium, the blood of their Titan ‘parents’, bridges the gap between the mundane world and the Fade, which is the world of dreams ("It is possible—even likely—that the "emerald waters" Andraste refers to are the substance of the Fade, which began as an "ocean of dreams””); this is what Valta regains, “its blood now flows through me” and now she sees the things it shows her when she shuts her eyes.

It’s also important to mention the Torn Notebook from the Deep Roads in Trespasser, Section 3 -

Trying to remember that old bedtime song about Mythal. My mother sang it the night before the darkspawn came for my clan. It's the last time I ever heard her voice.

Ir sa tel'nal, Mythal las ma theneras. Ir san'a emma. Him solas evanuris. Da'durgen'lin, Banal malas elgara. Bellanaris, bellanaris.

Written beside each elven line is a corresponding phrase, likely a translation:

I am empty, filled with nothing(?), Mythal gives you dreams. It fills you, within you(?), Making our leaders proud. My little stones, Never yours the sun. Forever, forever.

Hahren said we had lost some of the old words. What if they have changed? Durgen'lin from durgen'len? Little dwarves, never yours the sun? What did Mythal do here?

as here is dreaming, or gaining dreams, cropping up once again in relation to the dwarves. What Mythal “did here” btw was striking down the Titans and “rendering their demesne to the People”. A demesne is one’s domain or land. In this context it probably also refers to resources and their very forms, as we know that the Evanuris were mining the bodies of Titans for lyrium and “something else”, the something else probably being their hearts/cores (which probably can be made into power sources, the foci). This sounds like an unrelated disjointed ramble sry but it’s relevant because of the end part:

Then the runes crackle, as if filled with an angry energy. A new vision appears: elves collapsing caverns, sealing the Deep Roads with stone and magic. Terror, heart-pounding, ice-cold, as the last of the spells is cast. A voice whispers:

"What the Evanuris in their greed could unleash would end us all. Let this place be forgotten. Let no one wake its anger. The People must rise before their false gods destroy them all."

Their greed was the mining for resources and power. What was unleashed and had to be sealed away is often theorized to be red lyrium and/or the Blight. In this reading red lyrium, and by association the Taint, is maybe something like the Titans’ defense mechanism against being hunted, struck down and mined by the Evanuris, or perhaps something like an immune response or a natural consequence of the action, like how when we as a species pollute the natural world this often comes back to bite us in the ass with disasterous consequences. And like the angry energy and elves collapsing caverns in that passage, there’s also the “terrible presence” the Arcane Warrior’s soul in DAO remembers.

Given all this stuff, as well as the prevalence of red lyrium in the DA4 marketing thus far and apparent prevalence in its plot, its continued spread, the Titan/dwarfy beats touched on and set up in Descent (self-explanatory) and continued in Trespasser (the ‘death of a Titan’ mural etc), the [possible] corrupted beating Titan heart, the danger corrupted awakened Titans could undoubtedly pose to Thedas, and the theory that Solas is trying to prevent some cataclysm befalling Thedas and believes that he has to do this to save the world and that he’s running out of time, I think I lean towards the Whispers being to do with the Titans, specifically ‘red lyrium/corrupted/Blighted Titans’. Here I also wanna point out the similarity between the Whispers and Codex Entry: The Profane:

We who are forgotten, remember, We clawed at rock until our fingers bled, We cried out for justice, but were unheard. Our children wept in hunger, And so we feasted upon the gods. Here we wait, in aeons of silence. We few, we profane.

—Found scrawled on a wall in the lost Revann Thaig by explorer Faruma Helmi, 5:10 Exalted. Unknown author.

- the Profane being Rock Wraiths, creatures who are believed to have once been dwarves, that wander the Deep Roads, corrupt and living an undying half-life, probably feeding on lyrium (Titans being somewhat akin to dwarven gods) as they go. What if Valta is what you get when a dwarf connects to a normal Titan, and a Rock Wraith is what happens when a dwarf connects to a corrupted/Blighted/red Titan? Side note: It’s iiiinteresting indeed, isn’t it, that the Profane were calling out for justice, given that justice is one of Mythal’s ‘domains’ and considering her prior involvement with Titans and the dwarves (“adjudicator and savior!”, Mythal and the urtok, “Once I was but a woman... crying out in the lonely darkness for justice” etc). 👀

The last thing I have to say on this topic is that it’s also possible that the Whispers are one of those things that the writers just cooked up and threw in there for kicks/flavor, because it sounds cool and mysterious, and in so-doing it’s written in such a way (a bit generic) that 1) fans reading it can speculate about it and link it to several different things and 2) down the line the devs could retroactively decide to give it a meaning, or retroactively change what it was in reference to. This was the case for Eleni Zinovia’s prophecy:

David Gaider said Eleni Zinovia’s prophecy doesn’t refer to Fen’Harel. He can’t remember who wrote it in there or what it refers to actually. It was most likely just intended as flavor and he was even a bit surprised by it, like “What is this?” There’s a lot of things like that in the games, not everything has a ~grand meaning~. Sometimes such small off-hand things are picked up on by fans and the writers then make it into something bigger and more meaningful after the fact. This is what happened with Sandal (all the fans being like “Ooh, what does it mean, what does it mean?” about him). It’s possible Eleni will be picked up on like that in the future, but at the time it didn’t mean anything really. A lot of the way these stories are put together is that they put a lot of questions into the world, scattering possible/potential plothooks, and they don’t necessarily know where they lead at the time, but in future games they could come back to them and come up with an interesting backstory. Sometimes they pick it up and sometimes it never gets answered or ever mentioned again (the Wardens taking some of the blood from those who didn’t survive their particular bout of Joinings and putting it in a vial to remember them is an example of one of these things). It’s pretty rare that you’d get a situation where something is mapped out from beginning to end. Sometimes we the players get a revelation as we play and we’re like “Omg!! This is all connected! They are masters!” and the writers are like “Yes, toootally… It was that way alllllll along. It certainly did NOT get decided three quarters of the way through development…” [source]

You know, like there are, as is evident from this post where we go through various possibilities, lots of different ominous mysterious groups of nefarious beings waiting and sleeping and lurking Ominously in this setting!

Not a particularly coherent answer I know but hopefully interesting for you to read. :) tl;dr I lean towards it being to do with the Titans, specifically red lyrium/corrupted/Blighted Titans.

#dragon age 4 #the dread wolf rises #dragon age #bioware #solas #mj replies #video games #ahumblewoodcarver #cole #spirit boy #long post #longpost

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dimonds456 · 3 years

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TOH Season 2, 4 Theories (SPOILERS!)

So we're only 4 episodes in, and there's a LOT going on. I have 3 theories (and one that's more speculation) that I want to share (that have probably already been discussed before, but I haven't seen them, so here I go), and they're all beneath the cut! I wanna talk about King, Belos, and a third one that might surprise you, but I can't say just yet because ~dramatic buildup.~

MASSIVE SPOILER WARNING!

THEORY 1: King is a Titan

This has been a theory since Season 1, but it's reeeeally getting expanded upon here. It's hinted at that King might have a deeper backstory than he's been given, if those carvings and his memory gaps are anything to go off of.

However, we can find proof in his design and the design in that of the Boiling Isles themselves. They were birthed from an actual Titan, right? We see the Titan's still-beating heart in Belos' throne room. The Isles are his organs and ribcage. His skull sits in the water, eye sockets looking out over all.

Lookit it all. Gross. :)

Now look at his skull specifically. He's got those two horns on top of his head, looking to be a similar-to-exactly-the-same shape as King's, which is even more apparent since his other horn is fixed now.

(Side theory, King's collar is a glyph, look at the design. What does it do? idk, but I think it's gonna be Epic, and perhaps only he or another Titan can activate it. But I have no proof and just wanted to throw that one out there for consideration.)

Different noses, sure, but this Titan is also more mature. And bigger. That could change as King gets older.

If this theory is true, then that means Emperor Belos- who is rumored to be able to communicate WITH THE BOILING ISLES TITAN- is going to want King at some point. If he is able to RAISE A TITAN, that would strengthen the theory that he has this ~special connection~ with the Titan and put him in so much more power. King is easy to please, too, meaning that he might go along with it.

Leading me to:

THEORY 2: Belos is a human

Look at this series of quotes from Gwen Clawthorne from S2E4:

(Starting with when she says "You're not the only human to have lived in Bones Burrow," but image limit, so.)

[Image ID: four screenshots from The Owl House. The first is a picture of Gwen with the quote "there's a rare substance called Titan's blood." The next is Gwen in a different pose, with the quote "it is extremely powerful, and oftentimes causes leaks between our realms." The third is a picture if Luz, with her eyes wide with shock. Gwen is still speaking though, with the quote "but humans... are rare." The fourth is back to Gwen, with her hands up and the quote "my great-grandmother told me about a human who once lived here, but one day, he just vanished." End ID.]

"a human who once lived here, but one day, he just vanished."

Notice the use of he/him pronouns here. I was originally thinking it was whoever wrote the Azura books- and that is not off the table, really- but... the circumstances of him just vanishing are suspicious at best and earth-shattering at worst.

What if he never left?

We have never seen Belo's face. He was breathing hard when we first saw him, implying he's sick somehow, but was better after he Murdered a Man and poured goop in his eyes. He's never actually used magic before that we've seen. The only hint of power is that he's able to "talk with the Titan" and therefore that makes him better.

If he truly is a human, then that would be why he wears the mask. His ears would look like Luz's, not like a resident of the Boiling Isles. He has no magic. Or, if he does, he's channeling it in a way similar to Luz herself. He's been here for a LONG TIME, meaning he's becoming old and frail- or he should be, if it weren't for the Miracle Eye Healing Goop.

This would explain the portal Eda found out in the woods, and why Belos knows what it is. It was his portal. But, because Eda had it by the time he realized he wanted it back for whatever nefarious purposes he wanted that portal back for, he never got it.

But he's living literally right next to the Titan's still-beating heart. If Titan's blood is what allows for dimensional rifts, like Gwen says it can do, that means his throne is located directly in front of Luz's way home. He just needs a way to open the rift, which is where the portal comes in. The portal is there to channel the blood and create a rift on purpose, just like Eda's old portal could.

In fact, Luz probably has the "key" to opening that rift already. She just needs the blood and a vessel to complete the ritual.

Really think about it. Luz comes from our world, pretty much just as it is, and enters the Boiling Isles, where there is no discrimination on the same level of humanity. You can love freely, be freely, and crimes are judged on the action, not the person. Belos would have come from that same world, and saw how free it is here. If he wanted to take control and power, the only way he could ever do so would be to have the witches living here willingly give up their magic. He could not force them. So, he came up with the lie he can speak to the Titan.

Or, if it's not a lie, he used that power for evil instead of good. This leaves the implication that,

THEORY 3: Luz can ALSO talk to the Titan

This one is just speculation, but if Belos can do it, why not she? And if this IS a real ability Belos has, and he's been lying to everyone, Luz could be able to actually speak to the Titan and find out what it really wants. I imagine that it's probably not happy with Belos, but it can't just move or the entire Isles get destroyed. Or, he's physically unable to. Or perhaps, she can find out why the Titan wants magic restrained and find a different way.

If Belos is a human, then he and Luz contrast each other in that their journeys are the same. They both stumbled into this world by accident, they came from a world that wanted to stifle them, they entered a free world, and they wanted to stay.

The difference here is the power. While Belos reached for it, I predict Luz will be presented with a similar opportunity and throw it away. She becomes powerful in that she has her friends behind her, and that's all she needs. Her power comes from her determination and selflessness, whereas Belos' comes from his lies and selfishness.

Though, that story sounds familiar doesn't it? Which leads me to my final theory...

THEORY 4: The Good Witch Azura

I have 2 theories for this one, but they can both be grouped under one, so here we go.

Theory A) The Good Witch Azura was a REAL WITCH.

If these rifts can open because of Titan's blood, then there's a good chance that people like Eda had found the human world, too. And decided to stay for whatever reason.

Azura may have been writing an autobiography, or wanted to share to the human world about the Boiling Isles without directly saying it exists. Maybe she/they wanted to just get away from it, but missed the way it used to be, and expressed that through writing that happened to get popular.

Another mini theory that falls under this one is the idea that maybe someone tried to stand up to Belos early on, a sort of mirror to modern Eda. She/they saw how corrupt the system would become, and decided to flee or find help.

Theory B) Belos WROTE the Azura books

Now hear me out.

Going back to the 'Belos is a human' theory, that means he came from the human world, and for a time, he had a way of going back and forth between realms before he either lost or rejected his portal. Well, I don't know what his plans are, but if the fact that he's trying to get back to the human world are any indication, then I'd say he wants humans to know.

What if he's trying to spread his power and control? He has all the most powerful witches working under him, right? So it'd be easy to declare war on humanity. Just drop in without warning, cause havoc, and leave before they can retaliate. Then, do the same to a different location and leave before they can do anything. Do this again and again at random, and eventually, they surrender.

So why the Azura books? Well, I'm not entirely sure, but he's marketing books that are shockingly similar to how magic works in the Boiling Isles to humans, with messages about cheesy love and acceptance and working together. Humans eat that stuff right up. He may be testing the waters somehow.

I gotta be honest, I don't know why he'd write about those things, and the only episode I have to go off of is the writing/crunchtime episode from Season 1.

Oh, and this.

[Image ID: The same scene with Gwen that was shown before, but a continuation of the quote. Two screenshots this time, the first with the quote "Rumor has it he left something in the library, and- if you can find it-" then continued, "and if you can find out more about him..." End ID]

Luz: "Maybe I could find out how he got here!"

What if that something is the Azura books? What if there's a secret hidden within their pages, asking the humans to seek the witches out? Asking them to be entranced with this wondrous world, just as he was? What if he's asking them to come here?

"Knock knock, human."

Seasons 2 and 3 are gonna be wild.

#dimond speaks #the owl house #the owl house season 2 #toh #toh season 2 #toh s2 #toh spoilers #toh s2 spoilers #the owl house spoilers #theory #toh theory #toh theories #toh s2 theory #emperor belos #king toh #toh king

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katnissmellarkkk · 3 years

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Summary: At the Seventy-Fourth Reaping for The Hunger Games, volunteering is outlawed, thanks to a tribute four years prior. Because of this, when Katniss’ sister Prim’s name is chosen from the bowl, there’s nothing she can do but hope that Peeta Mellark, past victor and now Prim’s mentor, can somehow bring her sister home alive. (Obviously heavy on Everlark.)

AN: Hi! I don’t really have a big author’s note or anything--at least, I don’t think I do? We’ll see how long this trails on--but this is one of the fics I’ve been working on for a while. It’s multi-chaptered so there’s gonna be a lot more coming in the future, but this first chapter is honestly a little similar to the original book, with some (significant) deviations here and there, but after this first chapter, this story becomes extremely different from canon. I gotta thank, obviously, @rosegardeninwinter for a). making me my pretty lil banner and for b). reading the million, unpolished, unedited screenshots of my drafts that I’m sure ya’ll got tired of really quick. And also for encouraging me to write this in the first place. And also, I gotta thank everyone who liked and reblogged the lil story edit I posted months ago for this concept. It really encouraged me to write this concept out. (I’m talking about this edit right here if you forgot or never saw x). Okay, anyways, I’m talking too much but thank you! Also link to this story on AO3 [x].

Chapter One :

I stare out into the sky, introspective, as I wait for familiar footsteps to approach. The footfalls of my hunting partner, my friend even, Gale, still remain absent, despite our longstanding agreement to hunt on Reaping Day, no matter how hot it is, or how scarce the game, or how worried we may be deep inside.

Of course, how could a couple kids from the Seam not worry about Reaping Day? At least a slight bit, deep down?

Reaping Day. The day that decides the almost absolute fate of a lucky—as our assigned escort, straight from the Capitol itself, so proudly proclaims—boy and girl.

We're District Twelve. The smallest and one of the poorest districts in the country of Panem. There's an almost guarantee that whoever gets their name picked from the reaping bowl, even the strongest eighteen-year-old boy in the district, will have an almost sure fate of death. Likely before the number of tributes drops below twenty.

Tributes from our district almost never fare well inside the arena.

Almost never.

We have had a few winners in history, two of which are still around, but a few out of seventy-three games isn't inspiring much hope in anyone today.

The wind breezes against my arms, prickling the hair at the back of my neck, and I'm struck by the memory of being out here, in the forbidden territory of the woods, outside our district limits, when I was just a kid. When my dad was the one hunting and I was just along for the ride. Just along because I wanted to be with him. When I used to blindly trust him and my mother, when I thought he'd live forever, when I was too young to truly grasp the concept of the Hunger Games. When I was too young to truly grasp the concept of the world in which we live.

When I was eleven my every illusion was shattered violently. Almost as violently as the death in which my father must have endured, underground in those mines, as they exploded.

I remember hearing the alarm at school, blaring so cacophonously over the speakers that it shook the schoolrooms themselves. I remember blindly grappling through the scurrying bodies of my classmates, until I found my way to my little sister, Primrose. Her room was completely empty, but she still remained, sitting behind her desk with small folded hands, waiting for my arrival with excessive patience.

I'd always coached her on what we'd do, if there ever should be a mine accident. I made sure she knew the drill, just as I knew it. Like the back of my hand. Like a prayer or a lullaby. I could recite it in my sleep. Because my father had just as sternly instilled it into me.

I wove my way through the chaos of bodies and white-hot panic, towing Prim only inches behind me by the hand, as the kids from town lingered in the hallways, their classic, bright blue eyes large and their voices all quivering, and as the kids from the Seam dutifully made their way to the nearest exits, hoping and praying and begging silently that it wasn't their parent who had been hurt. Hoping the accident hadn't taken what was typically the sole provider in most households, here in the poorest section, in the most impoverished district.

Prim and I must have not hoped hard enough, because we learned almost immediately upon finding our mother, who was now immobilized with grief, her characteristic gentle smile eviscerated and in it's place, a blank stare, void of any life at all, that our every fear from hearing that alarm were coming true.

My mom was supposed to get a job. She was supposed to find a way to provide for us, to take care of her two daughters, who were grieving her husband just as much as she was.

But instead she lay in bed day after day. On the good mornings, maybe if Prim begged and pleaded, she'd move to a chair, in front of the fireplace and stare at the flames with the same vacant expression that had replaced the loving, kind woman who'd raised us.

The money from the government, the minuscule amount of money given to keep us afloat until our mother found work, ran out. The meat our father had hunted, the plants he'd saved, ran out. The food we had the small luxury of sometimes buying—or more times than not, trading for—quickly ran out.

And our mother still did absolutely nothing.

I take a deep breath now and try to force myself to forgive her. Forgive her for not being strong enough to keep going, forgive her for not caring enough about her own children to keep them alive in the face of her grief, forgive her for being so in love that losing my father had almost killed her too.

I know it's what my father would want. And I know it's something I can't let myself do. Because if I let her off the hook, it's like saying it's okay that she almost let Prim wither away to nothing. Forget me. I will never forgive her for almost taking my little sister away from me.

Our mother did absolutely nothing until Prim's ribs were prominent, until my stomach was nearly hallow, until our cheekbones were so blatantly obvious you could count them from down the road.

And all my fears, all my resolve, to keep the three of us together as a family, went out the window. There was nothing left to do, but wait for me and Prim to be taken to the Community Home, with the other orphans or kids from unsafe families. Kids who still remained too thin, who's eyes told stories no ear wanted to hear, who still wore bruises upon their skin like freckles from the sun, who looked nearly worse than the corpses I encountered every winter, while walking from the Seam to town. Those corpses were the unlucky ones who'd actually starved to death, who had sat down to merely rest, because they had no substance to carry them any further, and somehow never got back up.

On that day, at eleven years old, living in the Community Home sounded no worse than living with the immobilized shell that had once been my mother. My resolve to hold out until my birthday, until I could get the tesserae that would feed my family for an entire year, was shattered by the harsh raindrops pelting me from the grey, unforgiving sky.

I vaguely heard the baker's wife, the mean-spirited woman, with her deeply embittered, hostile blue eyes that somehow seemed black, scream at me, calling me names, shooing me from her property.

I'd simply wanted to rummage her trashcan, so desperate for any small morsel to take back to Prim, any motivation to take even another step forward, when I felt her rough and calloused hands shove me away.

I toppled over, my legs already weak and shaky from lack of nutrition and substance. My depleted form laid on the ground, my eyes bleary from exhaustion and the shivering wind and rain.

The witch went back inside the bakery as I scarcely conjured up the will to sit upright. I was beyond done. The fighting to even gain a fraction of my mother's awareness, to get something, anything, to feed myself and my starving sister, to even stand up, became overwhelming and I felt the last bit of my resolve crumble from deep inside.

Let them come and take me and Prim to the Community Home. I don't care any longer. Let them come.

Out of the corner of my eye, a boy exited out the same backdoor the witch had gone through. He was carrying a bag of trash in his hands and my famished mind focused on that first, focused on what could be inside the contents of that bag, on what a baker could potentially be throwing away, before I realized the boy was in my year at school. I knew him, or at least, I knew his face. But he stuck with the other blonde-haired, fair-skinned town kids and I didn't even remember his name in that moment.

In hindsight, that's absolutely hysterical now.

But he evaporated as soon as he'd appeared and I closed my eyes and let the rain drown me, hoping perhaps I could be swallowed up within the downpour itself. Hoping that perhaps I'd never have to face the reality that I was out of options and I had nothing of subsidence to take home.

But then I heard a clatter and a clang and the sound of a scream. It was her, the witch. She was screaming and calling someone names my own mother had never even uttered in my lifetime.

I mentally prepared myself for her to come back outside, to drive me away with a stick or a knife. Or possibly even a hot, scorching prong.

But it wasn't the witch. It was the boy, the one from my year. The one I thought went back inside after taking out the trash, that I believed didn't even notice me before.

He was carrying bread. Two loaves, in fact. The crusts were black and burned and the welt across his face told me, without a doubt, that he was the target of the witch's insults. That he was the victim of whatever clanging noise I heard.

And though I was the one starving to death, I didn't envy him having her for a mother.

I remember vividly, the most crystal clear image I have of this day, the boy checking and making sure the witch's attention had been claimed elsewhere. And then, without even glancing in my direction, he tossed one loaf of bread to my feet. Seconds later, the other followed.

He didn't hesitate to head back inside after that, and I've spent more time in these last four years than I'd more than likely care to admit, wondering what possessed him to commit such an act of kindness. No one was kind for free, I'd learned by that point.

And yet, as I shook myself forcefully out of my stupor, and carried the loaves back to my house at the edge of the Seam, I had no explanation for his simple act. I had no basis to explain why he would help me, when no one else ever had.

The next day, I saw him at school. I passed by him in the hallway, and saw his eye had now blackened, his cheek welted, but somehow he still managed a joyous smile. He didn't notice me then. He was surrounded by his friends. Like always, he was surrounded by a constant crowd.

He is, after all, one of the most charming and sweet people Panem's ever known.

Later that day, when I was about to walk home with Prim, who was excitedly chattering about the leftover bread awaiting us on the kitchen table, the bread I'd brought home the night prior that had filled our stomachs for the first time in months, I caught the boy looking in our direction. My grey Seam eyes met his baby blues for a microsecond, before he looked away. I snapped my gaze downwards too, embarrassed, when I caught sight of a dandelion.

It was that moment that a bell went off in my head. That I saw how I could survive, how Prim could survive. How, through the things my dad had taught me, I could keep me and my sister alive.

After that day, I could never stop associating the boy with the bread, the one who gave me hope, with the dandelion that reminded me I wasn't doomed.

I never stopped associating him with his simple act of kindness, even when he became famous for some much less appreciable acts.

And I never stopped kicking myself for failing to thank him, for saving my life and my family's life, before he was whisked away, to a land far from Twelve, called the Capitol. When he later returned, now a part of a much more elite social class, thanking him for his kindness became even less of a possibility.

A girl from the Seam had no business seeking out a boy from Victor's Village. Even if I did have the guts.

Though he isn't exactly in good company here in Twelve, seeing as the only other person who holds the same title is a drunken, middle-aged man who can barely form a coherent sentence most days and lives like a hermit by his own volition.

My thoughts are interrupted by the quiet—almost as quiet as mine, but not quite—steps of Gale.

"You're late," I state without turning around, pulling the cheese from my pocket. "You're lucky Prim's cheese held up under the sun."

But Gale pulls something even more impressive from behind his back. "This will probably go nice with it," he says and I almost gasp.

Fresh bread is so rare in our district, generally reserved for the Peacekeepers and perhaps a merchant who is having a good day. Here in the Seam, fresh bread from the bakery is as common as new school shoes.

Gale updates me on his day as we split the bread and cheese and have our own version of a small feast. He'd gotten to the woods early, while I had been still at home, and shot a squirrel to which he traded for the bread.

"The baker really went for that?" I ask in disbelief. The baker was a subdued, large man, who resembled all three of his sons quietly strongly, and was one of my dad's best customers. Sometimes I think he still trades with me and Gale out of respect to my dad's memory, but a simple squirrel for a loaf of fresh bread isn't common.

"I think he was feeling generous this morning," Gale suggests a little snidely, his bitterness leaking through. "Besides. It's not like the Mellark's need the money they ask for bread. They could easily skim off their precious son and he'd probably never notice."

Gale has a special affinity for hating anyone and anything associated even minimally with the Capitol. He was lost his father in the same mine explosion I lost mine in. But whereas I don't let myself get too worked up over the inequities between the town and the Seam, and especially between us all and the victors, Gale takes a special pride in fuming over the things he cannot change.

I don't mind listening usually, since neither of us can speak our minds in public or even within our own homes, out of fear small ears will pick up on our words and repeat them elsewhere. But today, I just don't have the energy to be a sounding board.

Instead I take a segue towards a slightly different topic, but one, without a doubt, weighing on both our minds. "Prim has been having nightmares of the reaping," I murmur solemnly. "She's convinced they're going to call her name."

Gale shook his head, his demeanor becoming more subdued now. "Least Prim's name is only in there once, Catnip. Rory had to take tesserae this year."

I nod silently at that admission, knowing what it must have cost him to even allow his little brother to take additional risks of being called. Knowing it meant his family of five must be even more hungry than he leads on.

We don't say much more after that, only lingering in the woods long enough to catch some additional game from what I've already collected, and hurry back to town to trade.

As we walk back to the Seam, having divided up our goods evenly, Gale murmurs suddenly, "I might be able to stomach the idea of Rory's name being in that bowl six times if we were still allowed to volunteer."

I bypass his words the best I can. I don't want to think about what Gale must be going through, making himself sick with worry, not for himself but for a sibling in which he considers himself responsible for. And, as it happens once in a lucky moon, I feel grateful that my tesserae is still sufficient for a family of three, and I don't have to worry about Prim the same way. Her one entry pales in comparison to the thousands that are piled in that bowl.

Still, the silence between us as we walk is deafening and I can't take it any longer as we come closer to my house. "At least then, you'd get to see the Capitol," I say lightly, as a means to brighten his mood, even just a little.

At that, Gale rewards me with a humorless smirk. "Generous of the president, isn't it? To allow us district people to experience the great Capitol firsthand while they slaughter our family."

And it's true. Just a few years ago, it was allowed to volunteer as tribute in the place of whoever's name got chosen, as long as you were the same gender and between twelve and eighteen on Reaping Day.

But four years ago, when a twelve-year-old boy volunteered for his seventeen-year-old brother, an outrage sparked across the entire country. People are never happy, in any district, to see a twelve-year-old be chosen for the games. They're the youngest, the smallest, the most innocent, and never in history had a single one made it past the Final Fifteen in the games.

So when one volunteered, the country wasn't pleased in the slightest. However, like always, the anger was contained by Peacekeepers in a matter of weeks, and promises came pouring out from the Capitol that a change would be made after the games that year to ensure never again would this situation occur.

And it never again could. Because three days after the Seventieth Hunger Games, President Snow announced that all volunteering, from that point forward, was officially banned.

This new law is even more ironic when you realize that the twelve-year-old volunteer from that year became the youngest victor in the entire history of the games.

Still, I suppose the president was feeling generous that day, and he threw in a bonus treat for us in the districts. Now when someone is chosen from the reaping bowl, though their fate is sealed definitively when their name is uttered, they get to choose one family member to take on the train ride to the Capitol with them, to get a special viewing of the games with the mentors and the sponsors and the past victors, to get to experience the wonder that is the mysterious Candy Capitol firsthand.

However, when all is said and done, twenty-three family members must ride the train home alone to their districts, with their loved one in a casket beside them. The thought chills me to the bone and I shiver as me and Gale wish each other good luck. We probably won't see each other again until it's time for the customary dinner we all try to put on with our neighbors to celebrate, even minimally, that we've survived another year unchosen.

Prim is already wearing my first reaping outfit when I enter the house, though it is a bit large on her. She's slimmer than even I was at Twelve, despite her having months on me when I attended my first reaping.

I get ready quickly, if only because I want to spend time with her before we have to go. I protect Prim in every way I can but I'm powerless against the reaping.

Still, she's only entered once and that's as safe as anyone can get from being chosen. It's almost unheard in the Seam to be that safe from the games.

But my sister never did appear like she fit in here anyway. Her golden blonde hair and sky blue eyes resemble the merchants, not the Seam, and her and our mother stick out like sore thumbs next to our neighbors.

Our mom is restless now, busying herself with preparing the food for our small feast tonight and braiding Prim's hair and then mine.

I still haven't fully forgiven her for leaving us when we needed her most, but I also can't imagine how difficult it must be to have to send both your children off to be potentially chosen for an absolute death. And I let her hug me as I guide Prim out the door.

Attendance is mandatory for all in the district, but the ones viable for being chosen and those just watching don't typically enter together.

I guide Prim by hand into town, the walk feeling longer than it did with Gale. Perhaps it's the trembling twelve-year-old I'm towing, or perhaps I'm more afraid than I'm even admitting to myself.

After all, unlike my sister, I have twenty slips with my name splayed across this year. It's not as a bad as someone like Gale, who has forty-four chances of being called. But it's not as safe as the kids from town, who likely only have to worry about a handful of slips with their names.

Its not that they're rich by any standard, but they get by better than those in the Seam. Even if they're hungry, they're not at risk of starving, and no one is going to sign up for tesserae unless there is no alternative.

A year ago, my mother let it slip once over dinner, just out of the blue really, that my father had always sworn no child of his would be in need of tesserae.

I shake my head, as if to physically rid myself of the reminder. I don't want to dwell on what my father would feel if he were here. I don't want to be reminded how different things would be if he hadn't died.

I help Prim sign in and then drop her off, as gently as I can, with the other girls her age. At the last minute, she pulls on my hand, yanking me back to her with surprising force.

"Prim, I have to go stand with the sixteens," I say as she leans up and kisses my cheek.

"I just wanted to say I love you," she whispers softly, her big blue eyes so terrified, and then she steps back into the crowd of twelves surrounding her.

I sigh softly and give her what I hope is a reassuring smile. She truly is the best of our parents. Kind, smart, level-headed. She's funny and resourceful too, even if she can't take hunting animals herself.

She is the only person I'm certain that I love. And just about the only thing that keeps me going most days.

As I make my way to the sixteens, straightening my mother's dress on my hips, I check the clock. Only five minutes before we start. Before our lovely Capitol escort, Effie Trinket, reads off two names in her distinctive, afflicted accent. Before two kids know they're never coming home again.

This place isn't much. But it is all we've ever known, and no one wishes to leave it.

As more people crowd in, I begin to pick up an excited buzz in the girls surrounding me. Already knowing what I'll see, I crane my neck just the same, to peer up at the stage ahead.

Sure enough, I see exactly what I knew I would.

There's four chairs set up on the stage. One for Effie Trinket, because no one from the Capitol could ever bear to stand for more than three minutes at a time and she must have a seat to relax in before she calls out the names and sends two of us—a lucky boy and girl, as she says it—to the slaughter.

One of the other chairs is occupied by Mayor Undersee. A man who looks like he's been beaten down by life too many times as it is and would rather be anywhere but here. His daughter is my age. She sits with me at lunch, since Gale is two grades ahead of me and we rarely see each other at school. We make polite small talk but other than that, I barely know anything about her, and by association, her father.

However, it's neither of them that's stirring up the buzz within the crowd—admittedly, more so with the female portion of the crowd—and it's definitely not Haymitch Abernathy, who's stumbling on stage right at this moment. He managed to win the Fiftieth Hunger Games and I still can't imagine how. He's a paunchy man my mother's age and he's never sober, on the rare time he's even seen in public. Today is no exception, as he flops onto a chair gruffly, and murmurs something unintelligible with his eyes closed.

No, the murmuring, the now batting eyes and coy smiles, the soft vibrato still traveling within the crowd, are all because of the last guest of honor, walking upon the stage right behind his old mentor.

Peeta Mellark.

Winner of the Seventieth Hunger Games. Youngest ever. District Twelve's first and last volunteer. The twelve-year-old that changed the rules for the entire country.

The youngest mass murderer in history of Panem.

And now one of it's most beloved celebrities.

Peeta is smart—brilliantly smart—and he's always been charismatic. Even at twelve, he had the Capitol audience, as well as every single soul watching on television at home, eating out of the palm of his hand.

It doesn't hurt that at sixteen, he's become quite a looker. His blonde curls, his blue eyes, those long lashes and bubblegum pink lips. His fair, perfect skin that has not a blemish in sight. His toned, muscular body and devastatingly genuine smile that no one can help but fall in love with.

He's also the boy who saved my life. The one who committed the simple act of kindness, knowing it would cost him, to help me.

I never thanked him. And now I never can, as I'm sure he has zero memory of me. After everything else that's happened to him since, after the last four years of living as a Capitol darling, as one of the country's most cherished victors, he'd never remember the starving eleven-year-old he threw some burned bread to in a rainstorm.

But I remember him. I don't know if it's what he did for me that day or what he did for his brother only a matter of weeks later, but something about Peeta Mellark crawled under my skin four years ago and ever since, I've never been able to completely shake the feeling I get inside upon seeing him.

I break my gaze away, refusing to stare at the boy, who I will always accredit as the one who saved my life. I venomously refuse to gawk at him, like every other girl in the district.

He rarely comes out of his house when he's home here in Twelve, and I know the overzealous amount of attention he receives just by going to his parents' bakery has to be at least a part of the reason. Unlike Haymitch, who has lost his clout and his appeal with age and with deterioration, Peeta has only gained more and more notoriety as the years pass by.

You'd be hard pressed to find anyone in Twelve, outside of a few outliers like Gale perhaps, who'd say a negative word about Peeta Mellark.

Of course, rumors about his random and long stretches spent in the Capitol itself are always floating around, no matter what time of year it is, but they don't affect his public persona or anyone's opinion of him. He is, after all, the most valuable figure Twelve has and perhaps the only thing we can take any pride in.

Effie Trinket steps up to the microphone just as I turn my head away from the stage. "Welcome!" She greets, so vivaciously, so brightly, I can't imagine it even resonates in her head that she's just moments away from announcing two of our impending funerals. "Welcome, everyone! To the reaping for the Seventy-Fourth Annual Hunger Games!"

I can't even bear to listen as she prattles on, with too much confidence and dignity for someone dressed in every neon color known to man, speaking in such a peculiar accent, with a thickly painted face that is so blatantly visible to the every eye here today, even in the back row. Doesn't she realize how ridiculous she is to us? Doesn't she realize how wrong it is to preach about the morals and disciplines of the Capitol, in such a prideful voice, when they're the ones about to murder us for entertainment, and in repentance for a long over war that only a few elders can still remember?

As I advert my eyes, my gaze travels once again to the back of the stage, and I'm more than a little surprised to see Peeta Mellark with a similar expression as mine. He, too, is shifting his eyes elsewhere, away from his own escort, looking sick to his stomach.

Of course, it still can't be easy for him, even with his own games four years in the past. He was a literal child when he volunteered and it's fact that he didn't understand what he was getting himself into when he took his brother's place that fateful day. His innocence was stolen as soon as the countdown ended and talk still circulates, even in the Hob, that he wakes up screaming most nights, calling out the names of fallen tributes. Though those words are not given much weight in the Seam, as we all know, people get bored in this tiny district and bored people begin to spew lies whenever encouraged.

Effie continues, in a long overdone mantra, one I could recite in my sleep, the same one she spews every year, that two kids from every district must be chosen to battle to the death in a new and invigorating—one of her favorite words—arena, in order to pay for the blood shed during the rebellion and war, in order to ensure we'll never again even think to rebel.

It would almost be easier to swallow, this whole charade, if the people sent from the strange land of the Capitol would just be honest and blunt with us. If they'd just admit that they see us as lesser than, as animals or beasts of some sort, as less than human beings. It'd be easier if the Capitol spokespeople would just outright say, "we'll take your children, we'll starve your district, we'll ruin your homes, we'll broadcast the deaths of those you love most, all to keep you too powerless to fight. In order to make sure you never are able to stand strong, we have to kick your legs out from under you first."

Instead of being honest though, Effie Trinket is reiterating the Treaty Of Treason, in a tone so serious that it takes all the self-control possible to stop several boys standing in the fourteens from bursting out laughing. Her accent and a serious tone do not mesh well together.

Once she's done though, my heart automatically skips a beat. Because, after four years of standing in this square, I know exactly what's coming. "Ladies first!" Effie announces and I feel a bead of sweat glide down my forehead, both from anxiety and from the overload of heat. Reapings always take place in the start of the hottest month of the year.

Standing in my mother's well-crafted dress, one of the most luxurious pieces of clothing we own, only makes my perspiration worsen, as the dress was clearly made to keep the wearer as warm as possible.

Our district escort makes her way over the bowl containing the names of every girl eligible to be picked in the entire district and I feel myself take in a breath involuntarily.

There's twenty chances she's going to call out my name. Twenty chances I'll be sent to an almost imminent death. Twenty chances Prim will grow into her teen years, and later adulthood, without a sister.

The gut-churning fear I'd repressed all morning, in that moment, overtakes my entire being, curling up like a ball in the pit of my stomach, as I do my best to listen on baited breath, somehow expecting to hear my own name spoken through the raucous microphone for all to hear.

Don't be me, I whisper inside my head, more fearful than I'd ever admit out loud. Don't be me. Please, don't be me.

And, as it turns out, it's not me.

Instead it's the name I never in a million years thought I'd hear. The name I believed to be so safe I didn't even allow myself to worry about her.

"Primrose Everdeen!"

#everlark #everlark fic #thg #the hunger games #thg fic #everlark fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #my writing #everlark fanfiction #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #writing #fic #fics #au #aus

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hot-wiings · 4 years

Text

The Chapter Contains Enji Todoroki. If this makes you triggered, or uncomfortable don't proceed.

Edited: 5-18-20

#1. I Love How You Patch Me Up.

You let out a sigh as you dabbed Touya Todoroki's eyebrow with a cotton ball. He hissed as the hydrogen peroxide soaked ball of cotton made contact with his skin, burning him as it cleaned out the cut.

"Sorry."

"Just stings."

Touya watched you from the spot where he sat on the barstool. You pulled your lip between your teeth and he knew you were upset. Upset that you had to make him sit through the extra pain of cleaning out his cuts with ointment and peroxide.

You weren't just upset, but livid. Livid that his father would hurt him like this. Livid that his mother didn't step up and protect him. Most of all, you were livid that she wouldn't even stay around to clean him up, but rather left him to patch himself up.

Your heart hurt for Touya, it truly did. You knew what it was like to have your father, a respected man, lay a hand against you—that's how you originally met Touya in the first place.

You were both in a local drug store looking for peroxide and medical materials, the same day with the same purpose and reasons. You both happened to reach for the same bottle as if fate intended for you to meet. You ended up helping him patch himself up that day.

You carefully pressed a bandaid over Touya's eyebrow cut before moving onto a new one. Your eyes briefly flashed down to his teal orbs before going back to your task at hand.

"Why'd he get so angry this time?"

"I told my parents I wanted to apply to UA. Enji told me I wasn't cut out to be a hero, I disagreed."

"And your mother? What did she say."

"She didn't say anything... But I know she agrees with him."

Your hand pressed down harder on Touya's cut. Sensing your anger, Touya pulled your hand from his cut cheek to his mouth. Ignoring the pain from his busted lip, he kissed your tense knuckles.

"I hate them so much. I hate how he treats you. I hate how she doesn't stop it. She doesn't even try!"

"Can you really blame her? If she intervened then my busted face would be hers. If he didn't hit me, he would be hitting her."

"That's not how a mother should act. A mother would step in, a mother would protect you. You protect her so much, but she has never done shit for you."

"How would you know? You don't even have a mother."

His comment deeply bothered you, but you knew that it didn't come out of malice but rather a defense. It didn't make it hurt any less, however, you didn't retaliate with words but actions.

With a tight smile, you soak a cotton ball in hydrogen peroxide and aggressively press Touya's lip with the substance. He winced, but he couldn't be mad. You would never hurt him on purpose, instead, you took out your anger by cleaning him up, something that you knew would hurt him but something that essentially needed to be done.

"I'm sorry, that was mean."

"It was."

"I just hate when you talk bad about her, she's not a bad person. He is, but she's not. She's sweet with Fuyumi and Natsou, it's just cause' I look so much like him. She thinks I'm just like him."

A tear falls down from Touya's pretty teal eyes. It dribbled down his cheek and mixed in with his cuts. You turned your own gaze to the ground, as you couldn't help but let a few of your own fall as well.

"You're not your father Touya."

"You're right, I'm not my father. That's why it doesn't matter if I let him hurt me, cause' at least I know I'm not enabling a monster like him to hurt my mom."

Touya slips his arms around your waist and pulls you closer between his legs. He used his hand to tilt your chin up making you look him in the eyes as his other hand traced circles into the bare skin of your hip above your jeans.

"I wish we could just get away from them all."

Touya let his head rest against your chest and he softy murmured into your skin as you ran your fingers through his bright orange locks.

"One day I'm leaving and I'm not coming back. You'll come with me, right?"

Your lips quirked up into a small smile. You leaned your neck down and kissed the top of Touya's head.

"Of course. After all, you'd be hopeless without your unlicensed doctor."

"I think you meant my pretty, unlicensed doctor."

Touya could still feel the heat from your kiss on his head, lingering and begging for more. It was then in that moment as you patched up his wounds that he realized how he really felt about you. He really wanted to say those three unspoken words, the words he was so cautious about handing out, but he didn't. Instead, he held his best friend and let her patch up his face.

#2. I Love How You Won’t Let Me Go. (Even When I Push You Away.)

He knew what he was doing was horrible. He knew what he was doing was going to break your heart. He was doing the worst thing. It would be like stabbing you in the chest and twisting the knife.

Touya Todoroki knew what he was doing would hurt you, but that didn't stop him from packing his bag with any essential items he would need. He knew it would hurt you, but that didn't stop him from discreetly leaving you a heartfelt goodbye letter in your mailbox before he headed off to school.

He knew it would hurt you, but that didn't stop him from walking to the nearest bus stop right after school got out. He knew it would hurt you, but he still bought a ticket to the farthest destination anybody would look for him, a ticket he bought a week in advance from his departure date.

He knew it would hurt, yet he still attempted to go through with it. What he hadn't expected was to see you standing there at the bus stop when he arrived. He hadn't expected to see you, arms crossed with a furious look spread across your face.

"Were you really going to leave?"

His eyes flowed from the scorned look of betrayal on your face down to your hand which held the letter he left in your mailbox. It was bunched up in your fist and your knuckles were white from clenching it so hard.

He could see the tears building up at your eyes, and his chest felt heavy with regret. He pulled on the arm straps of his backpack tighter. He was scared of hurting you. He was careful to choose his next words, wary of breaking you even more.

"How did you even get from school to home to here so fast?"

"Maybe if you hadn't been avoiding me like the black plague, you would've known that I was absent from school today."

"Why were you absent? Did your father-"

"Don't. Don't ask about my father. You don't have that right, not after you broke your promise."

The tears started dribbling down your cheeks and you looked up at the sky to avoid looking at him with your blurry tear-filled orbs.

"You promised. You promised that you would take me with you. You said we’d escape our parents together… But you were going to leave without me. You weren't even going to give me an actual goodbye."

Your voice sounded quiet and simply broken. The tone you used with him was hurt and lifeless. He wished you would scream, he wished you would yell. Anything would be better than the broken tone you held. Anything would be better than the broken tone he caused.

"How could I take you with me? I'd just be dragging you down."

Touya took a deep breath and closed his eyes, mentally preparing himself for the words he had to say to you.

"You wanna know why I got so distant? My mom got put in a mental institute and our last conversation was her telling me I was gonna end up just like Enji. I can't be anywhere near you. I won't let myself treat you like he treats people."

Touya made the motion to turn as his tears started to leak down his eyes. He started to turn away from you, letting his last words to you serve as a goodbye. You quickly grabbed onto his arm, stopping him and pulling him back. You would not let him go, not like this.

“I'm not a good person, [Y/N], it's better if I just leave."

"I will not let you walk away from me, I will not let you walk away from the past seven years. If you can look me in the eyes and truthfully say our friendship has meant nothing, that I have meant nothing to you, then I'll let you walk away."

“That's not fair. I could never say that to you. I'm not leaving because of you. I'm leaving for you. For fuck's sake! If my own mother, my flesh and blood, couldn't love me then no one can. I'd just drive you insane.”

“That's bullshit! Cause' I love you, and I'll always love you."

The thing you so belligerently tried to keep from your best friend was out in the open. You felt naked and vulnerable now that the words were out of your mouth.

"You love me?"

His voice sounded so hesitant and scared of the answer. He looked at you but you were looking at the ground, scared to meet his eyes. You took a deep breath before divulging in the secret you kept so well.

"You’re the reason I have the strength to wake up every day despite knowing what's in store with my dad. You make it worthwhile every day when I see you in school, you make me feel like I'm actually important. I love you, I've always loved you... And if you still want to leave despite knowing that, then just leave.”

Touya cupped your cheeks in his hands and tilted your face up, forcing you to look up at him. His hands on your cheeks felt warm, you wished for nothing more than to stay like that.

“You always take time out of your day for me. Whether it's homework, an injury, or just to ask me about my day, you're there. You’ve never once got disgusted by my scars. I think I love you more than I value my own life and that scares me.”

Touya pressed his lips against yours. They felt warm and soft. You could smell his distinct scent of ash from his quirk. Words could not describe the way you loved the way ash smelt on him.

“But I can't stay with a family who hates me. Come with me doll. Leave your shitty dad and come with me.”

“Touya, I’d follow you to the ends of the earth if it meant being with you.”

#3. I Love How You Don’t Judge Me.

With a grocery bag in his hand, Touya unlocked the door to the dingy motel room you had been staying in together. It wasn't much, but it wasn't somewhere someone would think to look for the son of the famous hero Endeavor. It wasn't much, but you didn't care as long as he was with you.

Touya locked the door behind him before walking further into the motel room and dropping the grocery bags at the foot of the bed where you laid reading a book. You looked up from your book and smiled at Touya.

“Hey there.”

Touya leaned down to your face and pressed his lips against yours, giving you a quick chaste kiss.

“Hi.”

"What’d you get at the store?”

“I got some instant ramen.”

“Same as yesterday, yummy.”

You picked up the grocery bag and carried it to the tiny microwave that the motel had provided in every room.

“Instant ramen in a rundown motel room. I'm sorry, I know it's not ideal.”

You turned your head to the side to look at Touya. A smile played on your lips as you made eye contact with him.

“I knew what I was signing up for when I came with you, besides, I like instant ramen.”

You added water to the containers and popped the ramen inside the microwave before pressing on the right buttons to turn it on. Touya came up behind you and wrapped his arms around you. He gave you another chaste kiss, this time on the side of your temple.

“Will you dye my hair?”

“Really? I really like your orange hair.”

You turned around in Touya's arms and looked him in the eyes to see if he was serious. It was so out of the blue, he had never had any interest in dying his hair before. As you ran your hands through his orange locks it wasn’t hard to guess what was going through his head. He was a spitting image of Enji.

“I have a job interview tomorrow, but I don't wanna go to it like this. I don't wanna go to it looking like a younger version of him. I want a whole new identity.”

“I really like your orange hair, but I'll love you no matter what hair color you've got.”

You walked over to the second grocery bag Touya had brought home and pulled out the black hair dye. You ripped the box open as Touya took a seat on a wooden chair in front of you. You ripped open the powders and dumped the powdered dye into the liquid chemical bottle before placing a lid on it and shaking it up.

“Tip your head back.”

You ran your fingers through his hair and applied the dye thoroughly as you rubbed it in his roots. You made sure not to leave a single inch of orange hair untouched.

You washed your hands and set a timer on your phone before retrieving your ramen bowls from the microwave and placing one in front of him and taking your place in the chair across from him.

“Thank you, doll.”

“Of course babe. I just hope it takes to your hair well, orange hair can be unpredictable when dyeing. We might have to go to the store and get another box.”

Touya sat there with you, happily eating away at the ramen you cooked for him. He wasn't sure how much time had passed when you asked the question he dreaded you asking.

“What's the job interview for?”

Touya bit down on his lip as he debated whether or not he should tell you. If he honestly told you what the job was, then you might get mad. On the other hand, he wanted to have an honest relationship with you.

“It’s for a position in the league of villains.”

You stared at him speechlessly as the timer went off on your phone. He wasn't sure what to make of your expression. You didn't look mad, or angry, but you didn't look happy or pleased either. Despite being best friends for most of your lives, Touya couldn't identify your expression. Not being able to tell what you were feeling made Touya nervous.

“You should wash your hair.”

“[Y/N]-”

“Go wash your hair before it falls out!”

He knew you were angry. He thought you were. You had to be. So instead of staying to talk it out, he retreated to the bathroom to wash out the chemicals as you took a seat on the edge of the bed. Each minute that passed felt like years to the both of you.

After what felt like a millennium, Touya emerged from the bathroom with a now black stained towel in his hand. You took a deep breath before smiling at your lover as he walked closer to you.

“You want to be a villain?”

“I- I know you're upset and disappointed, but I can't be a hero. I can't be that heroic guy you want and need. You can judge me all you want, but I can't be that.”

“Oh, baby… I would never judge you.”

You reached up and grabbed Touya by the sides of his head. With your thumbs, you wiped away the tears that had begun making their way down his cheeks and you gently pulled his face down to yours. Touya got on his knees and wrapped his arms around you as you cradle his face on your chest.

“I’m not upset, or disappointed either. You want a new identity, I understand that. I literally just dyed your hair, I'll even help you pick a new name. I was just shocked to hear you say, villain.”

“I can't be a hero [Y/N], they're so corrupt. I- I can't be someone like Enji. He was a hero and he was a bastard. I'm sorry if you hate me for this but I can't be someone like that.”

“Hey, I said I wasn't gonna judge you, and that meant I wouldn't ever hate you either. It just scares me. Hero or villain, it's a risky occupation.”

You run your fingers through Touya's newly black damp hair. It felt nice to him and it did miracles to soothe his tears. There were countless times where he found himself in this exact spot growing up, usually after he and Enji had a fight.

“It's a risky occupation. But hey, if you get to do something dangerous, then I can too.”

“[Y/N].”

“If you're joining the villains, then I am too. Who else will bandage up your wounds properly? Somebody's gotta keep you alive.”

Touya pressed his lips against yours. This kiss wasn't a chaste one like earlier, but one of longing and want. It was filled with lust and passion and hunger.

“Okay, we’ll do it together.”

#4. I Love How You Reassure me.

You sat on the closed edge of the toilet in your shared apartment as you stared down at the tiny thin stick in your hands. You were nervous and your whole body was tense as you stared at the stick with anticipation as you waited for the timer on your phone to go off.

Every passing minute felt like decades and with every passing second, the pounding of your heartbeat got faster. The timer beeped and you looked at the stick for the results. Two lines were present signifying positive.

The tears sprang from your eyes. You weren't sure what the appropriate response should have been but the whole situation left you feeling overwhelmed. What kind of lifestyle would you be bringing a child into? You were a villain now, and although you worked for the league of villains in a more medical aspect, your lover, the father of the baby, held a big role for the league of villains.

Occupations set aside, you weren't even married, nor did you and Dabi, the name Touya was going by these days, had much knowledge on how to raise a child. Yet the more you thought about how you carried something so precious in your womb brought a soft smile to your face. The more you thought of raising a child with Dabi, you felt better and more secure.

You heard keys jingling in the apartment doorknob followed by the sound of boots coming in the doorway and you could soon hear Dabi's deep voice resounding throughout the house.

"Sweetheart? I'm home."

You started to panic as you heard him walk closer to the bathroom. Should you hide the test, or just tell it to him straight? There was a slightly unsettling feeling in your stomach that Dabi wouldn't be happy about the predicament, but you had an open and honest relationship with Dabi.

The door to the bathroom was pushed open and Dabi made his way inside ready to scold you.

"You're sick, you should be resting in bed."

Being sick was just an excuse to take a day off from league work to slip away and buy your pregnancy test. To be fair, you were sick earlier due to morning sickness.

"I'm feeling better now, and, I uh, I have something for you."

You looked at the ground and ran one hand through your hair nervously as you used your other hand to push the pregnancy test into his hand. He took it, not even realizing what it was. Not even realizing how that tiny stick would impact his life. It didn't take him long to realize what it was as he looked down at the pink stick with two red lines.

"This a pregnancy stick."

"Yeah."

"Two lines. Is that positive?"

"Well, I wouldn't be giving you a pregnancy test if it was negative, would I?"

Dabi numbly took a seat on the edge of the bathtub across from you. To Dabi, children were not in the life plan, he never even let himself entertain the thought of kids. Sure, you were financially better than when you first left home together, rather than bouncing from dingy motel to motel you lived in a nice apartment, but you were both barely over twenty-one, your career choice was villainy, not to mention you both never had the best example of what a parent should be.

"It has to be wrong, we've been careful. You- you can't be pregnant."

Your eyes which had been trained on the floor finally looked up and met Dabi's orbs. You knew he might not want your baby, but you hadn't expected him to look so distraught and sick about it.

"Well I am, and I'm not aborting. This child is a part of you and me, I won't abort them."

"We can't raise a child."

"I can raise a child, what you mean is that you don't want to raise a child together."

"I didn't say I don't want to, I said I can't."

A tear dribbled down Dabi's cheek. You pulled him off the edge of the bathtub, onto his knees with his head against your chest. His comfort space, the space he would always find himself crying as he grew up. You ran your hand through Dabi's raven dyed hair, your signature move to quell his tears.

"I know what you're thinkin' and it's not true. You're not gonna be like him, you're not him."

"He's always going to be biologically a part of me. He was a shit dad and a shit husband. I don't wanna be like him."

"Just cause he's your dad, doesn't mean your gonna be like him. You're a good man and you'll be a great dad. You're not gonna hurt me, or this baby. You won't be like Enji."

Dabi slid his head from your chest to your stomach. A smile made its way across his stapled face as he let himself entertain the domestic thought of having a family with you.

"If we're having a baby then we might wanna look for a bigger apartment."

#5. I Love Everything You Create.

Dabi leaned over the sleek black bassinet and peered down. His precious baby lay there sound asleep. She had trademark teal blue eyes like his, but your nose. although she looked very distinctly you, she had red hair from Dabi. Although it was very Todoroki like, he didn't care. He didn't care that it tied him to Enji because it also tied her to himself and you. She was his baby, his pride and joy. She was the greatest gift you could have given him. She was his and yours to cherish and love, he wouldn't give that up for anything.

The baby began to stir and Dabi hesitated as he looked at her. Sometimes she would just fall back to sleep, but today was not one of those days. Her little cries began to start and Dabi swooped her up into his arms. With her head against his shoulder, he carefully swayed her back and forth immediately quelling her cries.

She didn't fall back to sleep but she laid there quietly in his arms. She was just a little over a year old but she was already a daddy's girl.

"You hungry?"

Dabi smiled as he heard Akari's little excited gurgles and giggles. He carried her down to the kitchen and pulled out a container of baby food from the fridge. Before quickly tossing it in the microwave.

Dabi pulled Akari closer to his chest and away from his shoulder so he could move around and do things in the house while securely holding her. Akari, deciding she wants more attention, pulls her hands towards her father's face and yanks on one of his staples.

"Ah."

Dabi swiftly put Akari in her baby high chair before grabbing a towel and wiping his face to get rid of the small blood that came along with the staple.

"Da! Da!"

Dabi weakly smiled in his daughter's direction as to not worry or frighten her. This wasn't the first time she had pulled his staples out, but it didn't hurt any less with each time she did it. Once the bleeding let up Dabi tossed the towel on the counter and picked Akari back up, giving Akari the attention she was trying to get.

"You're daddy's little menace, aren't you? Huh?"

Akari giggled and buried her face in Dabi's neck, it sent a smile onto Dabi's face. She was so perfect and every second he spent with her he couldn't understand why Enji ever treated him and his siblings the way he had. When he held Akari all that came to his mind was how he would do anything to protect her. Her and you. All he could think about was how precious and special you both were to him.

"Why didn't you wake me?"

Dabi turned his head to the side to see you leaning against the doorway. Your head was all over the place due to bed head and you wore Dabi's oversized t-shirt and a pair of jogging pants. You looked completely frumpy but to Dabi, you were nothing less than perfect.

"I wanted to let you sleep in."

"I enjoyed the sleep, but I'd rather have been up with my lovelies."

You walked over to Dabi and Akari. You dipped your head down to hers and kissed her head before leaning up to kiss Dabi, you stopped midway as you saw his cheek. You brought your hand up and creased his cheek.

"Did she pull your staple out again?"

"Yeah. She's got a mean steak, I still think we should have named her Void."

You reached into the cupboard to pull out a bandaid to patch your lover up.

"Void is such a bad name, so was Winslow."

You took the wrapper off the bandaid and pressed it against Dabi's face. He gave you a soft smile as he placed his hand over your hand that was on his cheek.

"I'm glad you married me, you know that right? I know we did it cause' you were pregnant, but I wouldn't change it."

You pressed your lips against Dabi's briefly before pulling away and smiling at him.

"You and Akari are everything to me. I love you, and everything you've given me. I wouldn't change it, and I wouldn't trade it for anything."

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lovelahela · 4 years

Text

❛ love of my life ❜ ─ bryce lahela, part two.

⇢ entry for choices february challenge !

⇢ pairing: bryce x f!mc (sunny soo)

⇢ genre: angst

⇢ prompt: heartbreak

⇢ song: love of my life, queen.

⇢ description: in which sunny finally confesses, but bryce is too afraid of hurting her.

love of my life, you've hurt me

you've broken my heart,

and now you leave me

love of my life, can't you see?

bring it back, bring it back

don't take it away from me because

you don't know what it means to me.

⇢ notes: keep reading tag will be added in the future. if u want to get tagged for open heart stuff tell me!! i hope u enjoy it ♡ feedback is appreciated!

Love.

It was a very strong word, but it's meaning and effectiveness have been diluted over the modern years. A word carelessly thrown around. Regardless, hearing three words that let you know you were loved was heartwarming, to say the least.

But saying them? That was a whole diffeŕent story.

And acknowledging that you are, in fact, in love with someone was a slap in the face in itself.

Sunny stood in front of her stove, humming some popular song she heard on the radio on the way to her apartment. Bryce stood beside her, leaning against the counter, careful not to stain his clothes with the sprinkles of BBQ sauce on the surface. He watched her with the semblance of a smile on his handsome features, admiring the way her hands skilfully prepared the traditional Korean dish she was so excited to let him try.

"It took me soooo long to get this recipe down. My mom was a mean cook, and I was a fire hazard in the kitchen up until I had to drop my unhealthy habit of living off instant ramen," laughed Sunny, sparing him a side glance. She sighed in content moments later as she appreciated the calming sound of rain drops pounding on whatever surface they could find.

"And you're sure you got it right this time?" Bryce grinned teasingly. Sunny gasped melodramatically and spun on her heels to face the surgeon she grew attached to over her hectic first year as a medical intern.

"Listen here, you little shit!" She pointed an accusatory finger in his laughing face, knowing he found her ridiculous rather than intimidating considering she had to look up to meet his eyes. A mischievous glint in her doe-like eyes and the evil smirk that stretched across her plump lips told Bryce that he was done for.

Sunny grabbed the spoon she had used to stir the ingredients in the pan, covered in tiny food particles and BBQ sauce, and smeared it right across his cheek. His eyes widened at her unexpected action and his lips, despite his horrified shock, stretched into an amused grin. She doubled over in laughter at his reaction, clutching her stomach after her abdominal muscles began to ache. Jovial tears streamed down her cheeks.

Bryce seized the opportunity and snatched the spoon out of her hands. He retaliated to her act of war by staining her mouth with the same substance his cheeks were covered in. She shrieked in horror and playfully punched his chest, dissolving into giggles yet again.

His heart fluttered when her laughter reached his ears and his gaze fell upon her lips, suddenly very eager to kiss her. Conflicted feelings arose in him, unsure of whether or not to act on his urges, knowing that once he did it, there was no going back.

But when she stared up at him with those wide, sparkling eyes and the most beautiful smile he had ever seen, logic crumbled under his impulses, and before any of them could process what was happening, Sunny Soo was in his arms with her lips locked with his in a kiss they had both only dreamed about before that moment.

His hands had gripped her waist tightly to keep her safe and steady against his larger body. She mustered the little physical power left inside her to stand up on her toes to relief the uncomfort from her craned neck.

And then, she muttered four seemingly harmless words against his lips that snapped him back to the harsh clutches of cold, hard reality.

"I love you, Bryce."

At that point, Bryce didn't know what to do anymore.

When they pulled apart, faces barely inches away from each other and breathing heavily, his heart broke at the hope sparkling in the gorgeous brown eyes he had fell in love with.

"Oh God..." The devastated whisper left his lips before he could process it. Sunny frowned, the light in her expression dimming by the second. Oh God? What was that supposed to mean? Was he... disgusted by her? Did he... not love her?

"Bryce?" Her cheeks were still burning, but her eyes had begun to glaze over with a thin coat of tears. The sound of her voice breaking damn near shattered his weakening resolve.

Words fumbled around in his brain in a confused mess. He stammered unintelligibly, eyes wide and breath quickening. He was panicked. For the first time in a damn long time, Bryce Lahela was speechless - clueless.

"I - I'm - I shouldn't have done that. I should not have done that."

Was he convincing her, or himself?

"What - What's that supposed to mean?" Her voice was growing weaker by the second. She took small, subtle steps away from him, beginning to feel smaller than she already was. Suddenly, they were both hyper-aware of the violence of the rain pattering against the window and the ground outside, mimicking the loud thumping of their rabid hearts.

"I... We can't. I don't... You deserve better. You deserve better." Sunny watched in surprise as he repeated those last three words in a hushed tone, as if attempting to assure himself. He ran his fingers through his hair, ultimately messing it up.

"I deserve better?" She laughed incredulously. "Bryce, I've spent the last few months convincing myself that I didn't even deserve to have you in my life, let alone love you."

"Are you - Are you fucking serious?" He rubbed his face with his hands and aggressively chewed on his bottom lip. God, I really messed up, he thought. "You're the most incredible person I've ever met. I'd move mountains for you - God knows I've tried."

He said the last sentence in a whisper, barely loud enough for her to catch - he didn't mean her to, really. Her eyes softened, but were still stained with the bitter pain of heartbreak.

"Bryce, please."

Pathetic, she felt. She was standing in her own kitchen, asking to be loved. How humiliating. The mortification overwhelmed her and pushed a steady flow of salty tears to run down her frowning face. She hugged herself in an attempt to feel less exposed under his watchful gaze.

Silence washed over them. He was racking his brain for ways to soften the blow to her, but part of him knew nothing could make the rejection she would face any easier. But this was for her own good, right? She was away from his buried feelings, away from the toxicity of his past, away from his unwanted trust issues. Sunny deserved someone who would grant her full, raw honesty and a stable relationship, because he could never give them to her.

"I can't. I can't do this, I'm sorry." His throat was constricted and strained the tone of his voice. She shut her eyelids as the words she was waiting for finally broke the silence that suffocated them and tested their diminishing patience. Despite her closed eyes, her cheeks were covered with a new coat of tears and her bottom lip trembled. She sucked it into the grasp of her teeth to try to keep it steady and hide how much his rejection truly affected her.

"Can you at least tell me if you felt anything at all?" mumbled Sunny weakly. "Is it just your insecurity holding you back, or do you really not love me?"

Nothing could prepare her or him for his answer. Bryce took a deep, shaky breath, mulling over whether or not he should tell the biggest lie he'd ever utter or yell the truth at the top of his lungs. Sadly, in the end, he knew better than to give her false hope for what never will, and did the only thing he knew would ensure he would never hurt her after that devastating moment.

"No, Sunny, I don't. I never did."

possible part three?

#choices stories you play #playchoices #choices fanfiction #bryce lahela #bryce x mc #bryce x reader #open heart #oph choices #choicesfebruarychallenge

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ranking-every-roxette-song · 4 years

Text

Ranking Every Roxette Song, #102-104

104. Good Karma

from Good Karma

This is the big one, the giant to tame. When I made the questionable decision of reading TDR’s review of Good Karma before listening to the album itself, this was the song that stood out, receiving glowing praise that promised something so great that we hadn't heard the likes of it from Marie and Per for decades. I shouldn't have read that review, but just couldn't wait, Good Karma being the first Rox album release that I'd followed properly. The introduction bodes well for all that promise, with a huge pairing of "Fading Like A Flower"-like piano and guitar, even more forceful than before. Quickly switching to a minimalistic EDM beat, it continues with one of the changes that make this feel more like a marriage of two disparate songs than a progression that builds some sort of drama. The production is full of synth after synth flashing in and out of sight like sea spray on the side of a ship, never giving us a chance to look at them but still allowing the feeling of frantic motion to come across. It ends up a beautiful sonic picture, but then the chorus comes in. The bombast of the guitars, bubbly bass, unhinged synths, cowbell and Marie together is a sudden surge that should feel absolutely huge. Somehow, it doesn’t connect with the rest of the song’s sections for me as well as it obviously should, and that always leaves me conflicted when listening. On one hand, it’s the point of this absolutely slamming chorus to provide a sudden change from the atmospherics of the verses; on the other, its production is also so huge and powerful that it doesn’t move as well as it could have done, had there been a more fluid groove under the guitars. Still, though in my view the bits of “Good Karma” don’t flow together amazingly well, there is a Son Of A Plumber-like old-fashioned bridge in the middle of the thing, and it’s gorgeous. Reading TDR’s reactions back in 2016 did hurt me in the end - it could have been as fantastic as they said, but remains just a great effort on everyone’s part that I will undoubtedly go back to sometimes.

103. Bringing Me Down To My Knees

from Room Service

There’s been a few songs in Per Gessle’s career that have been said (sometimes by him) to sound as if he’d written them in his sleep, or at least when woken up in the middle of the night. And that, I think, is absolutely a compliment - whether it’s “Gut Feeling”, “Vilket håll du än går”, “Big Black Cadillac”, or this one, they’re very immediate, simple and very him. If the world had let them get their way, Roxette would have been able to churn out songs like this forever without them getting any less lovely. More than anything, “Bringing Me Down To My Knees” is comforting. It opens with a warm line that combines guitar and synth to wind around the opening chords like the sonic equivalent of a wide smile, which is then encased loosely in the blanket of the production. That simple sine-wave sound kept popping up in Per's material almost non-stop around this time. The instruments are all bubbly, amber-coloured substances from the lab where songs are grown, and it’s functioning at full normalcy here, with new melodies and synth swells constantly rising from the vials, expanding and then falling peacefully. Marie is comfortable and earnest, making the song speak magnificently as usual and only ever finding any vocal intensity a few times. There is an acoustic guitar solo over a middle 8 that also can't be called one of the most ambitious ever, but that too works in its favour - it’s so completely effortless. The Backstreet Boys would have been mightily jealous of it, had they ever taken the time to listen to Room Service during breaks between choreography rehearsals and being fleeced by their fraudulent manager. The post-chorus string line in this is brilliant too, providing the same sort of reassuring simplicity. That’s the thing here, so much is achieved by trying so little that thinking about why it works can only confuse you further. Just like the song says, you can’t put your finger on it, it’s only possible to enjoy the ride and listen to several masters of the craft go relaxedly about their work.

102. Half A Woman, Half A Shadow

from Look Sharp!

Marie’s songs are always special points on Roxette’s albums. There’s not ever that many of them, but they do stand out from the surrounding crowd, with a different tinge to how the chord voicings, harmonies and melodies are put together. Though the lyrics to this one are again of Mr. G’s creation, you can very much tell that all around and underneath them is something different. Marie’s sophisticated harmonies are all over this, not just in the layering of voice but in the overlapping synths and guitar arpeggios that spell out big chords, as well as the dreamy pianos that come in later on. It’s all very much a sparkling new locomotive barreling confidently through a twilit misty morning landscape, and underneath this sheen there is the massive beat carrying the two awesome lead guitar lines. It does remind me a bit of “If She Knew What She Wants” by the Bangles, but slowed down, brightened, psyched up and made absolutely huge through Clarence Ofwerman’s magic production and Jonas Isaacson’s massive guitars. I don’t know how he does it, but an absolutely perfect image of a cold sun looming nearer over the horizon is conjured up in his solo. The ending is a wonderfully trippy experience too, with gratuitously phased and flanged sounds all smudging and washing down into the cold earth. In this song we find not so much half a woman as a crowd of them, with a corresponding amount of shadows, all blasting their way through the rain, away from a past that deserves no further thought. It’s such a powerful sound that it’s easy to envision a song like this becoming a lesser band’s only hit, sometime in the spring of 1987, to be longingly relistened to for decades thereafter by a few thousand loyal fans, wishing more people had remembered it. But this is Roxette, and even though I love this song, evidently it hasn’t even made my top 100 (though I do, of course, also wish more people listened to this song). I’m not really looking for moderation in explaining why I love the songs on this list, so be ready, folks, because it keeps getting even better from here on.

#per gessle #marie fredriksson #roxette #ranking every roxette song #good karma #bringing me down to my knees #half a woman half a shadow

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lovenotesuggestions · 5 years

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Hello! So I've got a problem with like, my thought process I guess you could say. I think it's because of my mom, but honestly I don't really know. I get paranoid really easily over the smallest to the most overly drastic and dramatic things. For example, my girlfriend likes to drink alcohol, and while my morals are against alcohol, I'd never stop her from drinking, and she likes to go with her best friend maybe 2-3 times a month (🍥 part 1)

And while I know that's not an amount that could do extreme damage to her body, I'm always terrified of something going wrong. And another example would be like, I could make a minor mistake, and I'll be terrified that I've angered or upset my girlfriend, and I would sometimes refuse to stop talking about a problem until it's resolved in fear that I would lose her before I can and the last thing we do together is argue (like in super dramatic movies) (🍥 part 2)

I know it's EXTREMELY toxic of me, and is very self-destructive. And I know it's a combination of my anxiety, insecurity, and paranoia. Heck, I don't even think it's my mom's fault. She used to tell me smaller things, like I needed to stop eating rice or else I could get diabetes (it runs in the family) but I think the small things like that built up, along with dramatic movies that always tugged at my emotions, that made me paranoid. (🍥 part 3)

Anyway, I kind of got off topic giving you some bg info. What I wanted to ask is, what advice would you recommend to stop or at least lessen such a terrible thought process? Therapy isn't an option for me, so I was hoping you'd have another possibility for me. I probably sound super crazy and unstable, but honestly this stuff doesn't affect me too often. It just fluctuates every now and then. But I'd appreciate the advice. Thank you listening to my craziness! (🍥 part 4/4)

Hello! I sent an ask a couple days ago that consisted of 4 parts, and a 🍥 emoji, and I didn't realize that it was claimed already! So I was wondering if I were able to claim 🍓💕? Thanks so much for what you do!

You don’t sound crazy or unstable, and you don’t sound like a toxic person - you sound like a person with symptoms of anxiety. And whilst it’s good to recognise when your behaviours might be harmful to yourself and to others, it’s not helpful to anyone for you to beat yourself up and be self-deprecating. You’re not crazy - you’re experiencing symptoms. I think that’s the first thing worth trying to do: be more aware of the language you use to describe yourself and try and adjust it to be a little more fair and a little kinder to yourself. If you wouldn’t talk about a close friend that way, try not to talk about yourself that way.

I always recommend seeking medical help if you’re able to - I appreciate that therapy isn’t an option, but if you’re able to see your GP that might at least give you some support. For example, if your doctor has a record that you’ve been having these difficulties, it can be easier to get support in things like getting a sick note or extenuating circumstances or additional accommodations if you need something like that for school/work etc. You could also potentially access medication even if therapy isn’t an option. There are a bunch of effective anti-anxiety meds on the market that you might find helpful if you’re able to access them. For instance, I’m on beta blockers that I take as and when I need them if I’m feeling particularly anxious, and they can reduce the physical symptoms of anxiety (like trembling/fast heart rate/feeling nauseous, etc.) which can make anxiety spikes a little easier to cope with. If this or any other type of anxiety medication is of interest to you, and you have the means to visit your family doctor to talk to them about it, that’s another potential treatment option if you can’t access therapy.

Another thing worth trying is to attempt to keep track of your triggers. There are a lot of really great mood tracking apps (I use Daylio personally) that you can use to identify how you’ve been feeling on a particular day, and what you did. Being mindful of what you’re doing and how it’s making you feel, and examining if you can identify a cause of your anxiety spikes can be really helpful in the long run, because it helps you identify behaviours that make your anxiety better or worse, and allows you to change the way you act and avoid any triggers you identify. Similarly, you can also identify coping mechanisms you’ve tried, and examine whether they’re healthy or unhealthy, and how effective they are.

Also I know this is really cliché, but some super accessible things that a lot of people do to cope with anxiety are things like mindfulness, meditation, yoga, and breathing exercises. Stuff like full-body mind scans and progressive muscle relaxation are really easy to do, and there are dozens of apps and youtube videos and stuff out there that can guide you through exercises that you can use if you’re feeling particularly paranoid, and they can help to calm your physical symptoms and sort of reset your thought practice. Of course they don’t work for everyone, and they aren’t a cure, but they can be a really helpful coping mechanism.

If you’re not able to access therapy in person, there are still a lot of resources you can use. If cost is a factor, there are a lot of lower-cost online therapy options, as well as free support services like online counselling (i.e. 7cupsoftea) and anxiety helplines/hotlines that allow you to speak to an adviser over the phone or via instant messenger, which might be helpful if you find yourself particularly panicky and need someone to talk you down.

As well as that, there are a lot of online resources to help you cope longer term. Mental health charity websites can often be a good place to start looking to research potential treatment options and coping mechanisms. A lot of CBT worksheets are available online for you to work through by yourself - even if you don’t have a therapist to go through them with, you can still do those exercises. If you google something like ‘CBT anxiety workbook’ or ‘CBT anxiety exercises’ you should come up with a ton of resources that you can flick through and see if you can identify any that you think might be helpful. Stuff like making a table to record details of your anxiety spikes can be really helpful (these usually involve details such as: when it happened, what was happening at the time, why you think it happened, how bad was your anxiety on a scale of 1 to 10, what actions did you take to try and calm those feelings, how effective were those actions, how bad was your anxiety on the same scale after taking those actions) in terms of identifying patterns in your behaviour, and what helps and what makes it worse. The physical act of writing everything down makes you more aware of and more likely to examine your own thought processes and behavioural patterns, and also allows you to identify patterns you may not have seen before. Another CBT exercise I’ve read about that can help with feelings of anxiety in the moment is a likelihood exercise - asking yourself what your anxiety/paranoia thinks will happen, estimating how many times you’ve thought that would happen, thinking about how many times it’s actually happened in reality, and comparing that, can help you rationalise those fears.

Other similar techniques include:

Doing some sort of vigorous activity to clear the anxiety from your body - short periods of exercise, house/yard work like vacuuming, turning up some loud music and having a dance

Making a list of soothing activities (i.e. having a hot drink, taking a shower, washing your face, wrapping yourself up in a blanket, etc.) and picking one when you’re feeling shaky to help self-soothe

Trying to get some mental distance from your worries by finding something else to focus on to interrupt those spirals - try and make it something productive and/or enjoyable. Doing something productive, even if it’s really simple like gathering up dirty laundry, gives you a task to focus on and can help you feel like you’ve accomplished something.

Setting aside daily ‘worry clearing time,’ in which you write down the things you’re worried about. If these worries arise outside of that time, try to tell yourself ‘I’ll worry about that later, but not now.’

In combination with the above, you can make an action plan of what you would do if any of your worries happen, so you feel more secure and prepared.

Some people find it helpful when they’re identifying their worries because they can them see the ones that they have no control over, or that aren’t actually that big a deal, and decide to set them aside and prioritise other things.

Try not to avoid your anxiety, or the things you don’t want to do because of it. Acknowledging it as something that you’re experiencing but that is separate from yourself - a external entity or force inside your head, can be helpful. When you start to feel anxious, some people actually address their anxiety and talk to it like it’s a person - this can help to separate it from your own personality and help you forgive yourself for being symptomatic.

Research unhealthy coping mechanisms so you can identify them. Things like over-reassurance (asking for a bit of reassurance from a friend/family member/partner is fine, but if you’re doing it all the time or need to repeat themselves because you don’t believe them at first), stress eating, avoidance, and substance use are some common ones.

I’ll slap a big caveat on this and point out that I’m not a therapist or a medical professional, so take all of this with a pinch of salt and make sure to do your own research - I’m just passing along things I’ve read/heard from others.

I hope that’s helpful, and I wish you all the best in your road to recovery 💕

Followers: if anyone else has any tips for this anon or experience you’d like to share, feel free to do so!

#advice #anxiety /#family /#food /#negative /#not a suggestion #long post #strawberry hearts anon #Anonymous #answered

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robininthelabyrinth · 7 years

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I know you've already got a pile of prompts, but I had this idea pop in my head the other day and I thought I'd send it to you. What if Oculus!Len, when he comes back, returns as a sort of time vampire? Basically instead of needing blood to feed on, he feeds on the temporal energy that surrounds time travelers... Can you imagine Eobard's surprise should he try and recruit that Len? Or the Legends when they find out?

I’ve started a new ‘tumblr fills’ entry on Ao3 so that I can start to fill a bunch of my prompts again at last, so if you’ve sent me a prompt in the last…forever…keep an eye out, you never know. This one is short and not quite the prompt, but I hope you like it, anon!

ao3 link

————–

It wasn’t the worst thing that could’ve happened.

It’s pretty bad, yes, but it’s not the worst possible thing.

He could be dead.

Technically, Len reflects wryly, he is dead.

He’s just also a leech.

A leech currently swimming through the whole goddamn time stream trying to find his particular group of time travelers, but a leech nonetheless.

Len hadn’t known that creatures that fed on temporal energy – all sorts, regular people and time travelers and speedsters and sometimes timepieces - even existed, much less that he could turn into one of them if he got 'frozen’ in a massive outpouring of temporal energy.

Frozen, because technically Len’s body is still back there, frozen in that eternal moment of exploding.

Center of a black hole, baby.

A singularity that sucks in even time.

That singularity sucked in Len and the rest of the Time Masters, and a lot of that structure, and it dumped them in the Topsy-Turvy.

Well, that’s what Len’s been calling it, anyway. It’s not quite another universe, not quite a reflection, but boy does Len feel like he went through the looking glass to get there.

The Topsy-Turvy is built on more dimensions than just four, for one thing. Len tries not to think about it too hard, or his head will explode.

Quite literally, as most of the Time Masters found out.

Len had been too busy having a panic attack about what the fuck stupid thing he just did to really pay attention to what was going on, which gave the Creatures enough time to convert him into the leech he is now.

The process had taken only seconds. Len was (is?) now unmoored from his frozen body stuck back in the Topsy-Turvy, able to swim through the time stream like some sort of demented spawning salmon (the Creatures thought Len’s comparisons were hilarious), but condemned to feed off the temporal processes of the living.

If he tried to feed off normal people, they got old.

Sometimes they stayed where they were, sometimes time itself went by and they woke up a good five months or twenty years later, but either way, they lost some of their life.

Luckily, time travelers and speedsters gave off temporal energy like crazy people - more than enough for a leech like him to feed on for a good long while without harming anyone.

Of course, most Creatures from the Topsy-Turvy didn’t really understand the whole concept of consent, and that’s why they were commonly mistaken for monsters. Or, at times, fairies.

Len’s about 90% sure that Rip van Wrinkle was some poor sod who had the misfortune to be some Creature’s first feeding before he figured out which way was up.

He’s somewhat worried that Creature might’ve been him.

It’d taken a while for him to regain his footing.

Luckily, he’s not doing that to anyone else. He steals little bits of time, snacks and bites barely large enough to keep him full; he’s been advised by those with some experience in the matter to just find himself a group of time-travelers to fix things and keep a proper meal with him at all times, but he doesn’t want to just find any group, he wants to find his specific group of time-travelers.

He misses them.

Okay, he’s not going to lie, he mostly misses Mick. And Lisa, though Lisa he managed to catch up with due to her being smart enough to stay in one time and place; Mick, on the other hand, Mick kept up with the time-traveling bucket of bozos for some reason (Len thinks he knows the reason, and feels guilty), and now Len can’t find him.

At least he’s in decent company, Len figures. Jax actually cared about Mick, even when everyone had thought Len had killed him; Sara’s pretty good at cards and has a low-key, friendly way about her – just as long as she’s never put in charge of anything other than tactical strikes, because major strategic decisions make her stress level go through the roof, see example a: Russian gulag; and Ray Palmer keeps trying to be Mick’s buddy.

Len’s sure they’re taking good care of Mick. Mick needs the care – he’s more fragile than people think, softness hiding underneath his thick tough hide, and he likes being able to rely on people he trusts to guide him; that’s usually Len’s job, but Len’s still struggling with this whole 'not a human’ thing and it’ll be good to have some support.

The crew – they call themselves ‘Legends’ or something, which sounds more like a Fall Out Boy song than a proper team name – will be taking good care of Mick.

And, well, if they’re not, he can always eat them.

Len will figure it out once he finds them.

Which is taking longer than expected.

For one thing, all of time and space is a pretty damn big haystack to find a needle.

For another, Len’s still not a hundred percent on this whole 'Creature in the regular world’ business.

The Creatures are pretty good about taking care of him whenever he flees the usual universe to take refuge in the Topsy-Turvy, which he did pretty often at first and still every once in a while now when he just gets plain overwhelmed, but they didn’t really understand humans. Ninth-dimensional possibly Lovecraftian beings just didn’t have the life experience to connect with people like Len.

Len’s lonely.

And worse, he’s pretty sure Mick still thinks he’s dead.

Besides, of the whole slew of people who ended up dragged into the singularity with him, most are dead (see: head blowing up) and only about half a dozen survived the conversion process.

The Creatures encouragingly say that their 2% survival rate is the best they’ve had in millennia.

Of course, the Creatures also then pitted them against each other in death matches and bet on it - forget math, gambling is universal - which narrowed the numbers a bit further.

Basically, Len and some guy named Booster are the only ones left, and they cordially detest each other in a way that only two people frantically clinging to each other because they’re the only two things that remember what being human is like while being stuck in a world full of mathematically improbable monsters can.

For one thing, Booster reminds Len of some awful conglomeration of Ray Palmer and Rip Hunter.

For another, they’ve been literally sharing the one human-style bed the Creatures managed to create for them for nearly a year. It’s a narrow single and they’re both grown men.

Len would categorize them as friends, but friends that would be deeply, deeply relieved if they never had to spend more than ten minutes in each other’s presence ever again.

They work much better communicating long-distance.

And, of course, speak of the devil and he appears -

“You found them yet?” Booster asks. His voice just appears in Len’s ear, just like having one of Rip’s high-end communication devices in if you forget the fact that A, they’re in different times and places and B, there is no communication device.

Stupid fifth-dimensional communication.

“If you don’t have a lead for me, we’re still not talking,” Len tells him.

“I said sorry already! Also, I think I have a lead for you.”

“I’m listening.”

“Aruba.”

“I’m not listening.”

“No, wait - I’m serious! This isn’t a sneaky attempt to make you go on vacation!”

“Unlike the last seven times?”

“Not my fault you work too hard. You don’t even have a job, I don’t know why you -”

“Booster.”

“- right, rant over. Anyway. Aruba. 2017. I’m sending pictures now.”

Len reaches into his pocket and pulls out the photographs, carefully not thinking about how they weren’t there a minute ago.

It’s -

It’s them.

They’re in stupid beachwear, and Mick is in the king of stupid beachwear, involving two layers of shirt (one tourist Hawaiian print) and a sarong.

He looks just like he always has, the big goober.

Len’s throat feels tight, and for once it’s not because he forgot to steal people’s coffee break time ('where did the time go?’ they bitch as they head back into the office, 'I feel like I just got out here’).

“Be careful,” Booster warns. “There’s been a lot of weird stuff going on in this period.”

Len nods. “Thanks for the tip,” he says, and then he leaps into the time stream, eeling through green swirls that he breathes in like air, inhuman and leech-like. He hopes Mick doesn’t mind.

And then he’s there.

Aruba. 2017.

Mick.

A set of time travelers that Len can stick with and drain slow, or - if they piss off Len and his newfound claustrophobia - visit occasionally while he uses the Flash’s endless collection of speedsters as his main source of substance.

Mick.

Len isn’t entirely how to explain what’s happened and how he turned into a temporal leech-thing (time vampire, Booster calls them) without going into eighth-dimensional mathematical concepts, but he can’t wait to give it a try.

Mick Rory, here I come.

#dccoldwave #tumblr fills #mick rory #leonard snart #booster gold #my fic

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