#youre never truly over pandora hearts huh......... | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

orangeoctopi7 · 3 years

Text

Buzzfeed Unsolved: The Suspicious Crash of Stanley Pines

The theme for @stanuary week 3 is Crime... what about... TRUE CRIME? I started watching Buzzfeed Unsolved this last summer, so I’ve been wanting to do something like this.

If you don’t watch Buzzfeed Unsolved, this is probably gonna seem like a lot of rambling.

On the morning of July Fourth, 1982 in the sleepy logging town of Gravity Falls, Oregon, there was a firey explosion that wasn't part of the fireworks and festivities. A car had gone over the edge of the town's famed floating cliffs.

"Floating cliffs?" Shane asked

"They're like, giant overhangs. They're not just floating up in the middle of the air like Pandora or something." Ryan explained, showing Shane a photo on his phone.

"Oh, that's pretty."

"It is really pretty."

"What a beautiful place for a car to careen over a cliff."

Ryan cracked up.

"You get a lovely view as you plummet to your death." Shane imagined.

Between 6:15 and 6:20 PM, the Gravity Falls Police Department received six separate calls reporting seeing a yellow car in flames drive off the edge of the cliff and crash to the valley below.

When investigators arrived on the scene, they found the remains of a crushed and burnt 1971 Subaru DL Coupe. The police report notes finding that the brakes were cut, and evidence of gasoline being poured into the driver’s seat to start the fire. Strangest of all, no body was found in or around the crash, only a few burnt strands of hair.

“So, right off the bat, real suspicious.” Shane commented.

“Yeah, and it only gets more suspicious from here.” Ryan assured his co-host.

“And I’m assuming there’s no chance that they guy, y’know, got up and walked away from the crash?”

“Oh, no, no way. You saw the picture of the cliffs.”

“Oh yeah, no way.”

“There’s no way anyone in the car would have survived that fall.”

“And it was on fire.”

Despite the lack of a body, the police determined from the few burnt strands of hair and an anonymous tip they received at 6:15 PM on the day of the crash, the driver of the car was one Stanley Pines, a 31 year old man from Glass Shard Beach, New Jersey. Allegedly, he had been coming to Gravity Falls, Oregon to visit his twin brother, Stanford, who lived just a ten minute drive from the cliff Stan’s car had driven off.

“Wait, wait, wait--” Shane interrupted Ryan’s explanation, “Twin brothers. Named Stanley and Stanford.”

“Yeah.”

“Who the f___ names their kids like that?”

“I know, right?”

“Were they identical twins?”

“Uh, I couldn’t find anything saying they were definitely genetically identical, but, uh, with the way this case goes, it’s safe to assume they were identical enough.”

“Yikes, I feel sorry for them growing up, can you imagine how often people got them mixed up?”

“Yeah, but imagine the kinds of shenanigans they must have gotten up to!”

“Oh, that’s true. There would have been plenty of shenanigans. Lots and lots of shenanigans.”

“If you had twins, would you give them cutesy twin names?” Ryan asked.

“No.” Shane answered firmly.

“I think I’d just do like, alliterative names. Nothing too similar.”

“Yeah, no I think twins probably have to deal with enough confusion bull___ without having to throw similar names or the same initials into the mix.”

“Interestingly enough…” Ryan started.

“Yeah, I’m guessing from your comments that the twin thing plays into this.”

When interviewed by the police, Stanford claimed his brother never arrived at his house. However, testimonies of other townsfolk reported seeing a red 1967 El Diablo with a distinctive “STNLYMBL” vanity license plate driving up the road to Stanford’s house earlier that winter. The house is out in the woods, isolated from the rest of the town, so no one would drive up that way unless they were going to see the cabin.

“Well what if they just wanted to take a walk out in the woods?” Shane countered.

“It was in early February.”

“Snowshoeing.”

“In a blizzard.”

“Ok, you do not have a weather report for the exact day they saw this car!”

“Two of the testimonies mention there was a snow storm that day. Plus, the license plate says STANLEY MOBILE.”

“Well, Stanley is a fairly common name.”

“You-you’re just being contrary to bug me now, aren’t you?” Ryan accused.

Shane just grinned.

What’s more, that same red El Diablo was the car Stanford now drove.

“What!?” Shane laughed with disbelief for a moment before putting on a mocking tone. “Uh, yeah, he never showed up, but, uh, I have his car. I’m still driving it. Y’know, seemed like a waste to just let it sit in the driveway.”

“He didn’t even change the license plate.” Ryan added.

“Oh, of course not!” Shane said sarcastically. “Why go through all that trouble?”

Upon further inspection, the car that crashed was registered to Stanford, and had been reported totaled almost seven years prior.

“It’s interesting that they say it was totaled.” Ryan commented. “Because totalled just means that the damage is more expensive to fix than the car is worth, so it could have still been drivable.”

“And if you’re trying to fake a car crash, what better to use than an already worthless car?” Shane agreed.

“Exactly.”

Stanley Pines was declared dead by auto accident and the case was closed in September of 1982, due to lack of evidence and quote: “A lack of interest from the involved parties”.

“A lack of interest from the involved parties!? What the h___ does that even mean?” Shane asked in bewilderment.

“It’s odd, to be sure.”

It’s when we look into the background of the presumed dead Stanley, and his brother Stanford, that this case becomes truly bizarre.

Stanley Pines left home at the age of 17, and had brief but unsuccessful careers as an amature prize fighter and as a salesman, before he turned to a life of crime. Prior to his reported death, he had been in prison five times, in three different countries, and had lived under at least eight different assumed names, with several others that were never confirmed. He had known ties to the mob and drug cartels.

“Quite the shady character. That might explain why the police didn’t look too closely into his ‘death’.” Shane put air quotes around “death”.

“Well, does it? I mean, if they thought his death might have been related to the mob…” Ryan argued.

“They know better than to mess with the mob, even in Oregon.”

“I mean, we have seen in several past True Crime episodes, what can happen if you mess with the mob.”

“Oh yeah.”

“You don’t wanna do it.”

“Nope.”

His brother Stanford was no less strange. He was born with fully-functional polydactyly, meaning he had six fingers on each hand. It’s worth noting that after 1982, Stanford no longer had 6 fingers. He claims that he had them surgically removed, because, quote: “I was sick of people staring.”

“Uh-huh. Sure.” Shane said doubtfully.

“You don’t believe that explanation?”

“Let’s just say I find it highly suspect.”

Stanford was also a certified genius, graduating with the most PhDs Backupsmore University had ever awarded. As a graduate student, he worked as a researcher and inventor for the US Government. Some sources say he worked on top-secret experiments.

In 1975, he received a $100,000 research grant, which he used to move to Gravity Falls and become a Paranormal Researcher. When he arrived in Gravity Falls, he was the subject of many rumors throughout the town, due to his reclusive nature and strange area of study.

“Oh, so this guy was basically you.” Shane pointed out.

“He’s basically me if I didn’t have you.” Ryan agreed.

“Awww, that’s sweet!” Shane placed a hand over his heart.

Many residents reported seeing strange lights coming from Stanford’s home in the woods starting almost as soon as he moved in, as well as strange sounds.

“Well, it seems like Gravity Falls is a pretty small town. People gossip.” Shane reasoned.

“Ok, yeah, but people gossip about who’s cheating on who, or what business secretly sells drugs out the back. They don’t gossip about strange lights coming out of the new neighbor’s basement.”

“They could. It’s gossip. Gossip can be about anything.”

Reports of the lights stopped in late January of 1982. Just four months later, in March, Stanford began opening up his home for tours, and in a matter of weeks, transformed his home into a tourist stop called the “Murder Hut.”

“Oh my g__.” Shane stifled a laugh. “A little on the nose there, don’t you think?”

“He did rename it to the Mystery Shack about a year later.”

“Hmm, yeah I wonder why?” Shane asked facetiously.

Stanford also exhibited paranoid behavior on several occasions before the crash, especially in the early months of 1982.

One local reported seeing Stanford screaming “No it isn’t, you creeps! I can see you just fine!” down an alleyway. Several other eyewitnesses reported seeing him fall out of his seat at the Triple Digits Truck Stop Diner on Route 14 and scream for something to “get out of his mind” before fleeing the building.

“So, he definitely seemed to think something was out to get him.” Ryan commented.

“Not the words of a sane man.”

“Unless something really was out to get him.”

“Eeeeh, even then…” Shane wiggled his hand in a so-so motion.

Dan Corduroy, one of the few people who had regular contact with Stanford before he opened the Mystery Shack, had this to say about the sudden change from research lab to tourist trap:

“Oh, he’s definitely been acting differently. He was really shy before, hard to talk to even. He seemed uncomfortable spending a lot of time with people. I’d invite him over to one of my family’s cabins to visit, but he only ever wanted to visit the haunted one while we were all out of town. I’d say it was a good change, though. It wasn’t good for him to be alone all the time like that. I’m glad he’s finally spending time with other people.”

“He only wanted to visit our haunted cabin.” Shane repeated with disbelief. “Hey, do you wanna come over to visit one of our cabins?” He put on a voice. “Uh, that depends, what kind of cabins have you got?’ ‘Well there’s one by the lake, one with a nice view of the valley, and one that’s haunted.’ ‘Oh, I’ll take the haunted one!”

“What gets me is he only wanted to visit the haunted cabin while everyone else was out of town. We’ve stayed in our fair share of haunted places, and it was bad enough staying overnight, just me and you, but there is nothing that could convince me to spend the night in one of those places all by myself.”

“I mean, I’m pretty sure none of the places we’ve been to have actually been haunted, but I see what you mean. It’s not fun to go to a haunted house by yourself. It’s kinda boring.”

“Um, we’re not gonna get into this discussion now, because we still haven’t even gotten to the theories yet, but you’re wrong.”

The case came to light again in August of 2012, when Federal agents arrested Stanford Pines, and detained him for several hours for questioning. By the next day, he had been released, and officials stated that his arrest had been due to a false lead. What exactly that false lead was, however, was never stated.

Now that we’ve gone over the extensive background of this case, let’s get into the theories of what really happened that 4th of July in 1982.

Theory #1: The theory put forth by the police, that Stanley Pines died in a fiery car accident.

“So then how do they explain what happened to the body?” Shane asked.

“It doesn’t say.” Ryan.

“And why were the breaks cut?”

“No explanation given.”

“That’s a stupid theory, those cops ought to be fired.”

Ryan stifled a laugh. “You’re not wrong.”

Theory #2: That Stanley killed his brother, made it look like his own death, and took over his brother’s life. This would explain the loss of his extra fingers, the sudden change in behavior that led him to open up the Mystery Shack, and his sudden acquisition of Stanley’s car. It does not, however, explain the lack of a body in the crash.

“He could have disposed of his brother’s body somewhere else, and then just like, left an ice block on the gas pedal and let the car run itself off the cliff.” Shane theorized.

“That’s possible. I was also thinking, maybe the body was gone. Maybe Stanley didn’t necessarily kill Stanford, maybe they met up in the woods, Stanford got eaten by a bear, and Stanley, who was already in trouble with the mob, took advantage of the situation, and faked his own death.”

“How--why did you work your fear of bears into this?”

“That’s just my variation on this theory.”

“Then why all the secrecy? Why not say that he was the one who got eaten by the bear? Why fake the car crash and then say his brother never showed up?”

“Because if the mob knew he’d talked to his brother before he died, maybe they’d come question him?”

“Oh, yeah, that’s a possibility.”

Theory #3: That Stanford killed Stanley and made it look like an accident. People who support this theory say the psychological trauma and guilt of killing his own brother may have driven Stanford to change his appearance and behavior to more closely resemble that of his dead brother.

“That’s… kind of a stretch.” Shane said slowly. “I feel like, Occam's Razor, theory 2 is more plausible.”

“What makes you say that one’s more plausible?”

“I dunno, just saying ‘He killed his brother and took his place’ seems a lot more likely than ‘The other brother killed him and the guilt drove him to act like his brother. I don’t think that’s how psychology works.”

Theory #4: Both brothers are still alive. Stanley, on the run from the mob, came to his brother Stanford for help. Meanwhile, Stanford was worried about someone or something that was out to get him. They came to a solution that would solve both their problems: switching places. They would fake Stanley’s death, throwing the mob off of Stanley’s trail. Then, Stanley would take Stanford’s place in the public eye, while Stanford went into hiding.

This theory is supported by photos that surfaced on Facebook in 2012. Several photos of Gravity Falls after a series of earthquakes did extensive damage to the town show what is supposed to be Stanford. However, another man that looks just like him is seen standing in the background. Interestingly enough, both mens’ hands are obscured in all of these photos.

While the photos haven’t been analysed by any professionals to definitively determine if either of the men are Stanley Pines, it has been determined that the photos are not edited.

“Would the whole photo recognition software even work on identical twins?” Ryan wondered.

“I don’t think so?” Shane answered unsurely. “I mean, my Facebook facial recognition auto-tag doesn’t even recognize my mom half the time, so I wouldn’t be surprised if twins throw it off.”

“Just looking at some of these photos yourself, what do you think?” Ryan handed a few print-outs from his folder to Shane.

“Oh wow, yeah, they do look alike.” Shane nodded. “Alright, yeah, I’m convinced. We solved it, guys! Video over!”

“We actually do have one more theory.” Ryan informed him.

Theory #5: Stanford was abducted by aliens.

“Oh for f___’s sake--” Shane threw his hands up in frustration. “We have four perfectly good, plausible explanations, and you have to throw that in!”

“This one actually does have some evidence behind it.”

“Bull____, but go on.”

Stanford was a professional paranormal researcher. Although he was very secretive about his research, even to his grant committee, some of his research notes do list looking for proof of ancient aliens visiting the valley before European contact. Could it be the thing he was afraid of was aliens?

“... That’s it?” Shane asked. “When you said this one actually had some evidence behind it, I thought you meant there was a UFO sighting in the same area around the same time.”

“The negative space between the floating cliffs kinda looks like a UFO” Ryan pointed out.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean a random researcher in the 80’s was abducted by aliens! That’s like, if I found a ransom note for you in the office, but I said ‘Well, Ryan was afraid of bears. Bears used to live in California, there’s one on the state flag outside our building. He must have been eaten by a bear.’ That’s the kind of leap in logic we’re talking about!”

Was this a case of fratricide? Or is this the longest and most elaborate twin switch of all time? For now, this case remains… UNSOLVED.

* * *

“It was really hard for me to stay on topic while I was researching this one.” Ryan admitted as they wrapped things up. “There is a lot of weird stuff related to Gravity Falls, we should go there for an episode one of these days.”

“I’d love to do that, it looks like a beautiful place to visit.” Shane agreed. “Are you sure you wanna do that though? It seems like the place is crawling with haunted cabins and bears.”

“Well, one could argue this entire series is about me conquering my fears, so… Why not?”

#Gravity Falls #Fanfiction #Buzzfeed Unsolved #Stanuary 2021 #Stanley pines #My Writing

406 notes · View notes

bebepac · 3 years

Text

Ri-Liamo de Bergerac (Happy birthday Zoehanji )

Happy birthday @zoehanji !!!!!

Original Post date: 04/27/21 at 9:52PM EST (4/28 where you are celebrating your birthday!!!)

I have no idea when we started talking but we did, somewhere in the beginning of my writing journey on this site. Even though I still consider myself to be a beginner here. Thank you for being my friend and being a fellow long distance cousin, as our relative in common would be Drama Whore! Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

I hope you enjoy this. I know that Fast Forward has always been one of your favorites.

The Book: TRH and Beyond

Pairing: Liam x Riley / Maxwell x Taylor (Maxwell x F!OC)

Warnings: Sexual Innuendo and fluff.

Word Count: 1889

Summary: Maxwell and Taylor go on their first date. Both are nervous and ask Liam and Riley for an assist.

A/N: This is a little similar version of Cyrano de Bergerac, not in the take that someone has a big nose, no one does, but the aspect of someone getting help in a conversation by using someone else’s words. I did ask around to see if anyone had done something similar to this. No one recalled of a similar story, so any similarities to anything currently on the fandom is completely unintentional.

I also used @theworldofprompts prompt: "All my life I've been searching for an answer as to where I belong. Then I met you and everything changed. You treated me like I deserved to be treated and you made me feel like I had a home. I don't want to lose that. I don't want to lose you." which will appear in bold.

Song inspiration for this. I heard this song while i was desperately needing to calm down while i was listening to the calm station on my pandora and I came across this song and enjoyed it so, so here it is for you all to enjoy too. I feel like it has a little sweet nervous energy, but then the music builds like you’re getting used to being with someone. it’s truly a beautiful piece.

First Love by Yiruma

I don’t own rights to the music. But i’m quickly becoming a Yiruma fan. Every song was amazing that i heard today and it had such a unique feel. I could pick them when they started playing on pandora.

Riley raised her eyebrow at Maxwell. She saw him pacing nervously as he kept glancing in Taylor's direction. Taylor was completely oblivious as she had her nose buried in a book she'd gotten from the estate library.

Finally Maxwell had psyched himself up. He walked over to Taylor sitting in the lawn chair next to her.

"Hey Softie."

Taylor put down her book, as did Ellie as she was sharing the oversized lounge chair in the sun with Taylor. Both lifted their sunglasses to their hair.

"Lord Playlist?"

"So I was wondering if you want to have dinner tonight."

"Silly Uncle Maxwell, we eat dinner every night." Ellie confirmed matter of factly.

"What Riley Jr. said." Both Taylor and Ellie picked up their books again, sliding their glasses back to cover their eyes.

Riley laughed to herself. Oh my God Taylor she thought. She is absolutely adorably clueless.

Liam laughed softly. He gently rubbed Riley's stomach.

"Aren't you glad we're married? We don't have to do that."

"You were never like that."

Liam blushed. "I felt like that when I talked to you the first time. I don't even remember what I said on the street to you. I was so dumbfounded by your beauty."

"You don't remember me being so awkward, Liam?"

Liam shook his head. "You… were perfect, is all I remember, My Love."

A light blush hit Max's cheeks.

"What I meant Softie, was you and me alone, away from the estate."

Taylor slowly lowered the book again, her eyes slowly meeting Maxwell’s.

"So like a date?"

"I mean date is a strong word, but it could be an accurate one. Two people dressed nicely eating food together at the same table. I mean I'm not opposed to the idea if you are."

"Auntie Taylor likes food, and to dress nicely. You should see Auntie Taylor's dress for the ball. I picked it!!!!!"

"Excuse me Miss Crown Princess read your book."

"So… whaddya say Softie? Dinner tonight?"

"Sure. Riley Jr. nailed it pretty much."

"Great! I'll meet you out front at seven."

Great."

"I swear this baby likes to just sit in there and poke my bladder for fun." Riley tried to roll out of the lounge chair she was on. “A little help Liam?”

Liam immediately jumped up to assist Riley to her feet.

"You just went thirty minutes ago."

"You tell your daughter that."

Liam affectionately rubbed her stomach, kneeling to plant a soft kiss on it.

"Little One be nice to Mommy. She has kept you safe all this time and we still have a few weeks to go. Let Mommy relax.."

Riley had stepped out of the lavatory only a few steps when Taylor descended on her like a ninja.

"Jesus Christ! Taylor you almost scared the crap out of me, and the way this baby has my bodily functions out of whack it could have legit happened!!!"

“Ew. Riley. Gross. Another reason I won’t procreate. Did you see, Maxwell asked me out!!!! On a date!!!!"

Riley laughed. "Because he likes you, and you like him."

"What are we going to talk about alone?!?!"

"You guys talk, and you are texting back and forth all the time."

"We talk in a group Riley. All Me and Maxwell do via text is meme war each other."

“Huh?”

"Our whole texting conversation… nothing but memes!!!"

She swiped on Maxwell's conversation in her phone it was nothing but pictures.

"It's okay, I'll get an ear piece set from Nico, and help you.”

“You’d do that for me?”

“Of course I would. Can’t have your first date with the guy you like nothing but uncomfortable dead air.”

“Thanks Ri. Can you keep this between us?”

“Sure! Do you need help picking an outfit for tonight?"

"Nope, with the outfit, you kind of already did when you gave me my new wardrobe. If I can’t pick from there, I’m truly an idiot."

Little did Riley and Taylor know Maxwell and Liam were having a similar conversation.

“Liam I didn’t think she would really say yes!!! She said yes!!!! She said yes…..”

Then it looked like the gravity of the situation crashed into him. Maxwell looked like he was about to hyperventilate.

“Calm down Maxwell. Taylor likes you. It’s easy to tell from the trained eye. She lets down her guard around you.”

“What are we going to talk about? I can’t talk about peacocks all night. Or Memes. She’ll think I'm a complete buffoon. I don’t even have reservations anywhere. I asked her on a nice date and I don’t even have reservations ANYWHERE!!!! What am i going to do?!?!?!

Liam grabbed Maxwell by the shoulders. “Get a hold of yourself man!!!! And take a breath, your face is turning blue.”

Maxwell took a few cleansing breaths.

“Don’t worry about the reservations, I can handle that. It’s good you are friends with the King and Queen. And for conversation I can got it. I’ll get an earpiece from Bastien, and you’ll be fine.”

“Don’t tell Riley. She still hasn’t let go about the fact of my baby hippo tattoo.”

“Nor will I thank you for reminding me of it.” Liam laughed loudly.

Maxwell and Taylor left on their date. Both Liam and Riley made excuses to not be in the other’s company for the evening.

Both Liam and Riley were pleasantly surprised being a whisper in someone’s ear how well the night was going. Both couldn’t stop thinking about how natural the moments between the two of them felt, and how perfect they were for each other.

“I can’t tell you enough Taylor how beautiful you look to me tonight. And I know you’ve had trouble seeing yourself that way when it comes to that word. But you are Taylor.”

She heard her sister softly gasp. Tears filled Riley’s eyes.

Tell him Thank you, and that you wanted to look nice…. For him.”

Taylor parroted her words.

Taylor starred at the menu. None of it was in English and she had no idea what any of it meant.

I wish I had your eyes right now Riley. Taylor thought.

The conversation was sweet and romantic. It was the perfect date. Maxwell reached across the table taking Taylor’s hand.

“Would you like to dance?”

“Yes.”

As they danced, Taylor started relaxing in Maxwell’s arms.

“You know I have a hard time sharing my emotions sometimes. All the time..”

“I know. And that’s okay. We can take this slow. There’s no rush Softie.”

This felt familiar to Liam.. Too familiar. He knew those words…..her words.

Riley felt the same way but she couldn’t be sure.

Both had gotten up from their desks to investigate to see what the other was up to.

Taylor had never felt like a moment was so perfect and what Riley said, she really felt in her heart.

"All my life I've been searching for an answer as to where I belong. Then I met you and everything changed. You treated me like I deserved to be treated and you made me feel like I had a home. I don't want to lose that. I don't want to lose you."

“Riley?” But she had the feeling, it wasn’t Maxwell’s question.

Taylor pulled away from Maxwell.

“Liam?”

Liam and Riley stared at each other in the hallway.

He touched her ear feeling her ear piece and she touched his, feeling the same.

“I knew it was you.” They both said in unison.

“I could feel your heart Riley, through the words even though it wasn’t you saying them.”

“I could feel you too.”

From the earpieces they could hear Liam and Riley kissing and the sounds of commotion.

“Bedroom, now?” Liam's voice deep, rumbling with desire and need.

“YES LIAM!" Riley cried out.

"OH GOD!" Taylor shrieked.

Both Maxwell and Taylor ripped out their earpieces.

“Well that escalated quickly.” Max cleared his throat looking at their earpieces that were laying on the table. “Won’t be using those for the rest of the evening.”

“Why did you think you needed help on the date Maxwell?”

“Because I’m awkward, when I’m around you.”

“No you’re not. You’re funny, and really nice. I’m the awkward one. I don’t know how to do this normally. I’ve never had a healthy romantic relationship before.”

“That’s okay. I haven’t been in many relationships before either. We can learn together.”

“So can I be honest with you? I have no clue what the hell I ordered. This place is nice but it’s too much for me. I’m guessing it was Liam’s idea? Can we go somewhere else?”

“I know just the place.”

Maxwell and Taylor left that restaurant, and when they got to the second place, Taylor’s smile widened.

“Now stop me Softie if you’ve ever heard this one, a dashing noble wearing a squid tie with an affinity for peacocks, and a Queen of Cordonia lookalike walk into a bar…….”

Date one for Maxwell and Taylor part two was them dressed up like they were going to the ball, eating burgers and drinking cheap Cordonian Beer, playing pool. And it was perfect.. For them.

No. Dead. Air. Conversation flowed easily between the pair.

“Wow. I can’t believe the earpiece stayed in.”

“You don’t think they heard anything did they?”

“I’m sure they probably took them out.”

"Can I ask you something?"

He could hear the slight sadness in Riley's voice. "Sure, you can ask me anything."

"Do you think I'm cool?"

Liam laughed out loud but abruptly stopped when he saw the look on Riley's face.

"Of course you are Riley."

"Then why is Ellie my sister's shadow right now? Why do I feel like she wants nothing to do with me?"

"Riley… it's not that. This pregnancy has been rough on you. You know how active our children are, and how active you were with them. Even while you were pregnant. Well….Taylor fills that spot for what you aren't physically able to do right now. Before it was me. I think you notice it more now because it is her.. But yes, it is clear Ellie adores Taylor. They have bonded and really love each other. “

"It was just so hard when I came back from California Liam. She hated me."

"She didn't. She loved you, and it was my doing that put a wedge between you and her. She was hurting Riley. I did that to her. Not you. I’m sorry for that."

“It’s okay Liam.”

*^*^*^*^*^* Breakfast next day *^*^*^*^*^*^*

“How was dinner last night Taylor?” Riley asked.

“It was great. We went for Burgers and beers.”

“That’s nice.”

Liam lightly cleared his throat.

“So……..”

“We didn’t hear anything. We both ripped our ear pieces out when we heard where things were heading.”

“Riley you’re about to pop, how is that even aerodynamically possible right now?!?!?!”

“Oh it’s possible!” Liam chuckled. “God yes it’s possible.”

“Taylor it’s like when the amusement park is about to close and you want to get on your favorite ride one last time. Even if you’ve had too much food and you’re full and you might throw up. You got to get on that ride one more time.”

“You went to a carnival Mommy?”

“No, she just went on a royal scepter ride. God did I say that out loud?” Taylor slapped her hand over her mouth.

“Oh my God!!! Can we change the subject now please?” Liam inquired, beads of sweat were forming on his face.

“Yes please because this conversation went incredibly awkward!”

Riley laughed looking around the table. The adults looked like they wanted to climb out of their skins and her children looked either confused or unaware of what was happening.

Tags in the Comments!!!

#bebepac writes #birthday fics #happy birthday zoehanji #trh fanfic #trh fandom #liam and riley #maxwell x taylor #fast forward #the world of prompts #choices fic writers creations

73 notes · View notes

emerald-amidst-gold · 3 years

Text

WIP Wednesday

Thank you for the tag @dreadfutures! I really appreciate it! <3

Still working on the never-ending snippet (they’re chapters, really XD)! To be fair, this is a great exercise because it’s helping me utilize dialogue more! So, without further ado...

...The Anchor being a buzz kill. :3

---

“Fane..”, Solas said, slightly breathless as Fane explored and showed the warmth of a balm.

“Hm,”, Fane hummed as he finally found Solas’ pulse, fluttering and skipping. He pulled away a bit, eyes hooded as he watched the beating patch. “You’re getting excited already. Dangerous, my sky. Very, very dangerous.”

Solas let out an airy laugh, turning in his embrace a bit to rest his side against Fane’s front. He had to adjust his hold a bit and take his hand holding the mage’s jaw away, but he kept his eyes on the butterfly before him. It was tempting to...well, snatch it from the air, but Fane kept himself in control, even as he felt the sky begin to lay kisses along his neck. They were as light as air and near reverent, but no less hot with their underlying heat. It was making his mind haze with a different kind of smoke this time.

“Ma’isenatha,” Solas murmured against where he was kissing, tender and sweet, but there was a note of...concern in its cadence? “...May I see your hand?”

What?

Fane blinked, the smoke clearing a bit. “Huh?”, he uttered in question, shifting his gaze away from the steadying butterfly to glistening orbs--lavender branching out from where the pupil was. Oh, he loved that hue. That hue, that very few saw…

Solas offered him a tiny smile. “Your hand.”, he repeated, a tentative touch appearing against an...oddly warm, blazingly warm, palm. Why was his hand so damn hot? It almost burned.

Fane drew his brows together, confused. “...My hand? Why do you--?”

Suddenly and before he could get the words out, the Anchor cracked within his palm--ancient magic still very much volatile from his earlier outburst. Fane hissed sharply. Damn it all! He forgot all about the Void-taken thing! Fuck! Just when he had been sure everything was as it should be again! Foolish! Foolish!

“Easy, vhenan,”, Solas soothed, one hand appearing upon his cheek and the other within his spasming hand. Within an instant, their fingers wound together, interlocking like a masterwork latch. “Breathe, and let us move from the floor. I can examine your hand better that way.” Blue orbs connected with his own, questioning and full of tender concern, even if they were a bit hard to make out from the suddenness of sharp daggers under his skin. “...Can you do that for me?”

Fane gritted his teeth at another pulse, growling deep in his chest, but he managed to jerkily nod. He could move, but by anything that was holy, he didn’t want to. The damned Anchor tended to skyrocket in its anger every time he jolted it, but...he could endure it. He could endure it if it meant it would just stop.

Solas gave him another reassuring smile, gingerly lifting himself off of where he was leaning against Fane’s front to stand. Fane nearly dragged the elf back down when another deep pulse of magic shot up his arm, but thankfully, not his head. It fucking burned like acid, however. The magic was less than it had been earlier, but it was still managing to seep from the slit and snake up his arm like ethereal vines.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,”, Fane cursed over and over, growling and snarling in the interim. “Fuuuck!”

He sucked in a deep breath and let it out shakily, trying to fight through the pain and nausea as he, none too gracefully, pushed himself off the floor with his free hand. To Fane’s surprise, the Anchor didn’t protest too awfully, only snapping against his wrist like a hand slapped another in reprimand. Still, it ached, burned, and screamed.

Solas’ hands appeared on him the moment he stood at full height, using both to lift the acid spewing hand up to his line of vision. Fane swallowed hard around pooling saliva and took in deep breaths through his nose as he let the mage work his magic.

He watched as a slender finger glided along the brightly glowing opening, testing, teasing the familiar magic out with a gentle blue glow. The tendrils came outwards, but then abated minimally, cowing at calming blue, but they still carried fury underneath--pulsing and crawling. Fane grimaced at the sensation, stifling a pained growl. It would never end unless he chopped his arm off, would it? Or, well, if Solas took it away. Sadly, his sky didn’t have the capability or power to do that yet. Fane would be both relieved and not relieved the day that he did. For various reasons. Reasons they also needed to discuss sometime, but not right now. Not when his fucking arm was feeling like it was getting pulled through a rift!

Solas gave him a tiny smile, glancing up from his work. “You are doing well, my dragon.”, he praised before concentration hardened features that held the shadows and dual glow of magic, eyes going back down to focus. “What do you feel right now? Describe the sensations for me.”

Fane took in another deep breath. “Uh, c-crawling. F-Feels like there’s worms under my skin. Worms that are--are on fire.”, he tried to explain as best he could, but those blazing worms were wriggling, writhing as Solas gingerly ushered more of his magic into the mark. “I-It keeps knocking against that f-fucking ward, too.”

Solas glanced up again, but didn’t halt his ministrations. “It has not pierced through, correct?”

Fane shook his head with a shaky sigh. “No, but that’s because I’m…” He gasped a bit, a hard pound slamming into the walls of his mind like a drum. “...fighting it.”

That seemed to be all Solas needed him to say, going back to his task with a furrowed brow and a determined look in his sky-line eyes.

Slowly but surely, the Anchor began to die down as the more Solas guided his magic to make the more volatile counterpart heel. The tendrils of sickly, but sparkling green abated, the ever present glow dimmed, and best of all, the pain ebbed away like a lazy wave. Fane sucked in a deep, deep breath as that reprieved was granted to him. He still felt nauseous as all got out, but the worms were dying down, the knock upon a locked door floating away as chaotic magic slithered back down his arm. He could honestly sob from relief. Truly, he could.

Solas let out a quiet sigh of his own, tired and relieved all in one, as his eyes met Fane’s own again and for good this time. They were speaking to him, asking a typical question and it filled Fane’s heart with tender affection.

Fane smiled tiredly. “Better. Thank you.”, he said. He was utterly exhausted, stomach tender and head aching duly, but the pain had stopped, the magic driven back to the hole it crawled out of.

Solas let out another relieved sigh at his words, a tired smile of his own appearing, cracking the mask of concentration, and giving his marked hand a gentle squeeze with the two still holding it.

“It’s nothing.”, the mage downplayed, shifting tender eyes down to gaze upon the Anchor forlornly. “I simply wish I could rid you of this burden, to wipe away this pain. If I had known it would be you who would somehow pick the orb up, I would have been--”

Fane sighed softly as he tapped the underneath of Solas’ chin with a few fingers of the hand he was holding. The elf blinked, steely orbs snapping up to him instantly and that only made Fane smirk more. How the sky heeded a dragon’s call. It should be the reverse, but this world continued to show how much it defied itself.

“Stop. Observe and accept. Observe what happened, and accept that it was beyond your control to predict. You will fix things, Solas. We will fix things.”, Fane assured as he leaned in to lay a light kiss against the mage’s lips. It was reciprocated with ease, a tiny hum escaping from his sky and it made him reluctant to pull back, but he did to murmur, “All of it will come in time, ma tarasyl. You know that. I know that. Be patient.”

Solas let out a chuckle. “Using my own words against me? Wisdom is a concept in you, I see.”, he teased.

Fane sneered a bit. “Cute.”, he replied dryly before shrugging. “I only used them because you used my own earlier, and I figured you’d be more amenable listening to yourself when in concern to what happened at the Conclave and whatnot. You do like to hear yourself talk, after all.”, he teased with a growing smirk. They were coming full circle now, and hopefully, his jokes would land more gently this time.

“Insufferable.”, Solas quipped with an exasperated sigh, but it was fond underneath, he knew. “Why do I--?”

Fane blinked as Solas suddenly froze up, face going blank and glittering eyes staring at him, but not registering. He furrowed his brow at that, pulling his head back a bit to get a better look at blue and grey. Now, that wasn’t normal. The hues were still bright, aware, blue with lavender branching from the middle, but Solas’ face and posture screamed, ‘disconnected’. Fane felt himself grow more worried at that. Had he fucked up again?

“Solas? Are you--?”

He went to ask after the man, thinking his joke had hit a nerve yet again, but a slender finger suddenly darted up to his lips, stilling them. It was telling him to wait, to be silent. Fane blinked. Well, at least the mage was responsive? Yes...a corner of a mouth was moving a bit, eyes were blinking slowly, and a…

...nose was twitching?

Before any more questions could be voiced or even thought up, Fane saw Solas’ face pinch a bit, nose screwing up before sucking in a slow, deep breath, and then…

“Achoo!”

We have it all in this story! Pain, sadness, Solas tears, Fane rage, fluff, cockblocking magic, and sniffles~ >:3 Watch this turn into a sick fic now. XD

Tagging forth (with love and potions to ward against sniffles!)

@oxygenforthewicked @noire-pandora @the-dreadful-canine @little-lightning-lavellan @aymayzing @dungeons-and-dragon-age @hoochieblues @whataboutbugs @1000generations @blueheaded @cartadwarfwithaheartofgold and anyone else who’d like to share! It’s Wednesday~! X3 (no pressure, of course! <3)

#my writing #wip wednesday #this is a never ending endeavor due to my difficulty of writing endings X'D #it's almost as bad as writing beginnings #but DIALOGUE abound! >:D #i'm just torturing solas in this aren't I?#first he wet then he cry then he SNEEZE #poor woof woof~ >:3 #i love him i swear :3 #i'm also torturing fane though so it's even~#oc: fane lavellan #solas #solavellan #male lavellan #dragon age #dragon age inquisition

25 notes · View notes

kaitoujokerscans · 3 years

Text

The Night the Silver Cape is Set Ablaze CH4

CW eating disorders: this chapter describes a crash diet.

<4> Silver Heart's Secret

One of Silver Heart's hideouts in Europe. The small house was visited by Hachi on a night several days after Noir had intruded. Since that day, Joker had holed up in his bedroom on the Sky Joker and wasn't coming out. Losing so easily to Noir must have been a shock to him.

Hachi had been leaving meals out in front of his room every day. Joker hadn't burrowed away in his room like this since the last time a game he had been excited for finally released.

"Help yourself, Hachi-kun."

Cookies and tea were placed in front of Hachi, who was sitting at the table. Beside him, Hosshi was munching his favorite konpeito.

"Thank you, Roko-san."

The small white dog who had brought over the tray with his prehensile ears gave him a smile.

Roko was a super dog who had gained extraordinary powers thanks to genetic manipulation. He could speak human language, and he was so intelligent that it was easy to forget he was a dog. He was a full-fledged phantom thief dog, and he often worked alongside Queen on her capers. Queen herself was sitting at the table with Hachi, resting her chin in her hands with a dissatisfied look.

"Roko, get me some too~ Just the tea."

Like Joker and Spade, Queen too was a phantom thief and a disciple of Silver Heart. She called Silver Heart "Grandpa" and lived together with him. She was a pretty girl, dressed in a white and pink costume with her blonde hair bound in twintails. Huge diamond-shaped eyes were set in her fair skin, yet today their shine seemed duller than usual.

"Are you sure, Queen? Shouldn't you eat something soon? We have cookies."

"It's fine, I'll just fill my stomach with tea. I'm so close to my goal." From the sound of it, Queen was on a diet. "Anyway, where'd Grandpa go? Hachi-kun came all the way here..." pouted Queen.

Then Roko pushed a few buttons for the television and changed the channel. "It looks like he's still in the basement."

The basement came up on the television screen. There must have been a security camera set up there. It showed Silver Heart downstairs at his desk fervently studying something. Maybe he was making a new phantom thief tool...

"Did Grandpa stay up all night again? I wish he'd take better care of himself," said Queen, but she wasn't looking too healthy either. It was probably because of her diet, but in Hachi's opinion, he couldn't understand why Queen was so concerned about her figure. He didn't bring it up, however.

If Joker were here, he'd probably ask a bunch of questions like "Eh? Queen, you're on a diet? Why? How many kilos are you trying to lose? Actually, how many kilos are you now anyway?" and would subsequently become rust on Queen's diamond sword. But at the moment, Queen didn't seem to have the energy to swing the great sword she usually wielded, and was instead languishing at the table.

"Augh, I'm so hungry..." she moaned, and was met with a tactless query of "Oh, Queen, are you on a diet?" from the side. It was from Silver Heart, who had been in the basement up until now.

He was clothed in a clean white double-breasted suit and had a cup of tea in his hand. His most distinctive features were his long, straight white beard and his long locks of white hair. He gave the atmosphere of an elegant gentleman.

"Grandpa!"

"Silver Heart-san!"

Queen and the rest looked at Silver Heart in surprise. "Huh? You were just on screen, though..." When they glanced over at the television, the screen cut out with a static buzz and showed an empty basement instead.

"Fu fu fu, this is the improved version of the 'Image Card' I invented. Place it in front of a camera and it'll play fake footage that'll deceive the camera feed. It was only able to show still images before, but now it can play moving images for a short period too!" exclaimed Silver Heart, proudly holding out a few Image Cards.

"Hmm, another new invention?" Queen took a card and examined it with curiosity.

"In any case, Queen, you may be the right age for it, but you shouldn't go on a crash diet. How many kilos are you trying to lose? Actually, how many kilos are you now?"

"......"

Aah, you shouldn't ask that...! But before Hachi could even blanch, Queen threw a knife-sharp glare at Silver Heart. Her colder-than-ice eyes froze Silver Heart on the spot.

"Er, uh.... O-Oh, okay. N-Never mind! Actually, Q-Queen, you don't look any heavier! You practically look as thin as that wilted sunflower we saw recently!" Silver Heart tried to cover himself, but dug his grave deeper with every following remark. Finally, in an attempt to avoid Queen's glare, Silver Heart turned to Hachi. "S-So! How's Joker doing?"

"Well, he's not coming out of his room still. I think it was a huge shock for him."

"Hm, it sounds like it had a major effect on him."

"Joker's not even eating proper meals? Really now..." Queen marveled, staring into space. All she could think about at the moment was food.

"Silver Heart-san, please tell me. Who is Phantom Thief Noir?" Hachi asked, bending forward. Noir had known about Silver Heart. There must have been some sort of connection between the two of them. Hachi had come to Silver Heart's hideout to ask about this.

But when asked, Silver Heart took a sip of tea and answered with a blank look. "Noir's an old friend of mine, why?"

"Huh?" Hachi, Queen, and Roko's eyes widened. "He's your friend?"

"Yes. You know that I used to work as a spy, correct? Noir was a colleague of mine in those days."

"Eeeh!?" The trio exclaimed in surprise.

"Which means this Noir person was also a spy?" Queen forgot about her empty stomach and leaned forward.

"That's right. I was paired with a woman named Purple back then, and we carried out many assignments. Exposing the classified intel of enemy countries, blowing up the factories where weapons were being made in secret, all sorts of missions to protect world peace. But when Purple was on other assignments or when we had more rugged jobs, I paired up with Noir. Working with Noir as a team was tension-free since we were both men, and I enjoyed it in a different way than how I did with Purple. They used to say that when we paired up, there was no mission we couldn't accomplish. I had a friendly, enriching rivalry with him, and he was a lifelong friend!"

"Really?"

"Yes, really. That's why for the life of me I can't figure out why Noir would become a phantom thief and attack Joker." Silver Heart turned his gaze upwards in thought. He didn't look like he was hiding anything. Silver Heart must truly have considered Noir a friend.

"You don't have any idea why Noir-san might have shown up?" Hearing that he was a friend, Hachi appended a "-san" to Noir's name.

"Not in the slightest... But if there's anything Noir's holding against me, it might be from that time when we infiltrated a country called Lachla to eliminate a hidden treasure and I fell asleep. He nearly died that time..."

"I can see why he'd get angry," sighed Roko.

"The hidden treasure of Lachla is an honest-to-goodness crown. I found out about it just recently, so I'm going to steal it soon."

"That's what you wrote your last notice for," commented Queen.

"Besides that... ah!" Silver Heart exclaimed as if he had just remembered something. "Perhaps..."

"What?"

"What is it?"

"When I quit being a spy, in return for the farewell gift he got me, I gave Noir a wallet. He hates lizards, so I put a toy lizard in it as a prank. Maybe he only just opened it up recently."

When he heard this, Hachi fell to the ground. "That can't be it!"

"It has to be something else!"

"He wouldn't steal treasure from Joker-san just over that!"

"Y-You think so...?" Silver Heart was stunned by their negative reactions. "In that case, there's nothing I can think of... I should ask him directly."

"Do you know how to contact him?"

Then Silver Heart laughed and responded proudly. "I used to be a renowned spy, you know? I have plenty of ways to contact my old colleagues. Without anyone else knowing, either."

"Please ask him right away! Joker-san is depressed!"

Hachi pressed him hard, but Silver Heart knit his brows. "What? Right now?"

"...You can't?"

"It's just that today's not quite a good day for it..." Silver Heart stood up discreetly.

"Do you have plans, Grandpa?"

"Eh? No, well..."

Roko caught him casting a sideways glace at the newspaper. "Does it have something to do with the news?" Roko grabbed the newspaper and spread it out. One sheet had a headline reading "Queen of Pandora Makes Courtesy Call".

"Ah..."

"What's this?" Queen took the newspaper and started reading it. "The Queen of the country of Pandora is visiting France.'"

"Isn't this queen Grandpa's girlfriend? What's going on?" When Queen pulled her face out of the paper, there wasn't a trace of Silver Heart to be seen. "Huh? Huh? Where'd you go, Grandpa!?"

Evidently, Silver Heart had bolted off somewhere while everyone else was looking at the newspaper. Naturally, the legendary phantom thief was a master at running away.

"Argh! I wanted to hear more about Noir!"

"Queen-san, are you concerned about Noir-san too?" Hachi asked, curious.

"I mean, the fact that he outdid Joker is a testament to his abilities. He might be able to tell me something about how to beat Joker!"

"Makes sense..." Hachi saw the logic in what Queen had said. She looked like she had more color in her cheeks now despite the empty stomach. Hachi finished drinking his tea and stood up. "I'll be going now. Joker-san might come out of his room soon."

"Okay, bye now."

"Please tell Joker to not think too hard about it."

"Thank you. I enjoyed the food!" Hachi bobbed his head and left Silver Heart's hideout with Hosshi.

Blending in with the dark of night, the Sky Joker floated in the clear sky.

I wonder if he ate his meal... He had prepared Joker's favorite food, curry, today. Hachi fretted a little, before taking a breath. Just then, a voice came from his phone.

"Hachi, I heard everything."

"Eh!? Joker-san!?"

"Sorry, but I listened to what Master had to say using your phone." Joker had evidently tampered with Hachi's phone to listen to the conversation. Joker likewise seemed surprised to hear that Noir was Silver Heart's friend. "So, I thought up a way to get the better of Noir. Using the 'Lachla Crown' that Master mentioned."

"What do you mean?"

"Something happened between Master and Noir, and the crown's been targeted by Master now. It's only natural to assume that Noir showing up at this juncture must have something to do with the crown, yeah?"

"Oh, I see!"

"Now that that's established, let's go. Come back quick!"

"Roger! Ah, there's curry outside your door."

"Eeh, really? You could've told me that earlier!"

While the sound of scrambling came from the other end of the line, Hachi inflated Balloon Gum, picked up Hosshi, and flew up towards the Sky Joker. Internally, he thought about how glad he was that Joker was back to normal.

As he watched Hachi float up from the window, Roko contemplated. "I'm worried about Joker."

"Yeah~ munch munch... I'm worried too~" Queen responded, her mouth full of something. Roko turned around in surprise to see Queen munching on cookies.

"Huh!? Queen, what about your diet!?" Roko asked confusedly, only for Queen to smile.

"I mean, I can't very well fight on an empty stomach. I'll go on a diet some other time. Right now, I want to know more about Noir."

"You want to know more... but do you have anything to go off of?"

"It's simple. The easiest way is to ask someone who knows about Grandpa's past."

"Someone who knows his past...?"

As Roko gave her a blank look, Queen grabbed all of the cookies left on the plate and stuffed them into her mouth. "Munch munch... Aah! Cookies taste so good after restraining for so long!"

#kaitou joker #light novel

17 notes · View notes

project-ohagi · 4 years

Text

Muichiro Tokito x Reader {Kimetsu No Yaiba}

The affliction which had cursed you since birth made it nigh-impossible to find a pure, simple love. If you locked gazes with someone for upwards of three seconds, an instant infatuation would bubble away in the pit of their stomach. This, initially, may have appeared a blessing, but the premise of the attraction was effectively laced in deceit. That thought alone bestowed a terrible discomfort upon you. Your heart yearned for someone who would love you truly, without the shadow of falsehood.

Due to massive insecurities regarding your eyes, a black, leather blindfold adorned your face (under no circumstances did you remove it in public), shielding you from being fawned over by people you couldn't possibly care any less for. So, the inclusion of the young Mist Pillar, Muichiro Tokito, into your narrative, was both extremely thrilling and nerve-wracking! Of course, he had yet to bear witness and potentially fall victim to your tempting, (e/c) eyes, but his ever-oblivious and stoic demeanour ignited a hope within your very core. Maybe, after all this time, after such loneliness and heartache...maybe he was the one!

Your soulmate!

Well, the imagery was certainly glorious to behold, but unfortunately, it consisted solely of day-dreams.

You hadn't engaged in a single, satisfactory conversation, to date. Did he think you were weird, or perhaps insane? After all, your eyes never peeked out from behind that blindfold, and you often endeavoured to talk to the Mist Pillar, with varying degrees of luck. Or...was a suspicion brewing within him? Despite the obvious lack of a demonic aura, everybody understood the Twelve Demon Moons (Muzan's personal henchmen) to carry numbers within their eyes. Your presumed refusal to display your own, striking irises, could, conceivably, be viewed with considerable mistrust. However, Muichiro had proven himself to be incredibly blunt, so...maybe not.

By now, the issues of both love and Muichiro Tokito were deeply intertwined - it soon became absurd to picture one, in the absence of the other. You could distinguish his features by sound, and you concluded him to be the most adorable creature in the entire universe!

"Oh, gods...Mitsuriiii! What should I do? He's just so...so cute!" Said woman stroked your hair affectionately, as you had previously requested help brushing and tying it.

Planting her face into your (h/c) locks and squealing, she replied, "So cute! The cutest! Oh, you should tell him!"

A dark, crimson hue danced on to your cheeks. "Are you crazy?! He'll start avoiding me! Avoiding! I'd rather he kill me!"

"(Y/n), I didn't know you had such a flair for the dramatic!" The Love Pillar cooed, enjoying the situation a little too much.

"I'm not being dramatic! I'm being deadly serious! He won't think I'm anywhere near good enough!" Your menacing glare just about forced her silence.

...For all of a few seconds.

Confessing to the aloof amnesiac had been but a fleeting thought, because of (mainly) his personality (you figured that the inevitable rejection would sting, because you had overheard his monologues to the Swordsmiths, and his displeasure for even the slightest inconvenience had become painfully evident. What if, in his eyes, you were an inconvenience too?), but also...his general lack of emotion served to confuse you. Did he actually comprehend the concept of love? If you presented your feelings, how would he cope? What harsh words would he use, to berate you for yielding to such trivial things? You tried to tell Mitsuri, but the very idea of love, or a possible relationship between yourself and Muichiro, seemed to pierce both her eyes and ears. She pretty much refused to greet your negative atmosphere, instead choosing to ramble on about how adorable of a couple you would make.

...That was a fair assumption.

"Well...I won't push you anymore, but I really think you should tell him about your feelings! Knowing Tokito, he won't understand straight away, but he can think about it!" Mitsuri clapped her hands together, showing you her masterful hair-styling skills.

You grumbled. "...I'll consider it."

Without professing dishonesty, you allowed the thought to fester in the dark recesses of your mind. You were torn - some relentless force was tugging you towards the confession, but rationality advised you against it. Your heart simply couldn't experience more anguish...it couldn't! Mitsuri, despite being the Love Pillar, didn't always offer the best guidance. You couldn't follow her words, and just tell him how you felt! Oh gods, if he had an insight into the mechanisms of your heart, he would notice that the cogs only appeared to turn in his presence, or at the mere mention of his name. If he knew how it thundered violently against your rib-cage, or fluttered with feather-light wings as he spoke...

Ah...but you might never arrest his affections, without first showing him your eyes. You wished for anything but this! Anything! You desired not a relationship built on his attraction to your eyes, but one brimming with an unadulterated love - something based on more than simply your appearance!

Slowly whittling away at your emotions wasn't a toil you would choose voluntarily, but rejection was immanent - of this, you were certain. Perhaps, if you started now, a few weeks down the line, the pain wouldn't encumber you quite as much?...Both your mind and your heart were so conflicted! By letting your feelings, through words, caress the air, you had basically opened Pandora's Box, and it wouldn't be easy to close. Did you even want to close it?...Of course you didn't! But...what if it was the only way to relieve all this stress, all this pain? You were so locked in this pitch-black cavern - a figment of your depressive musings - and you failed to recognise the boy, standing a few feet away, glancing at you with concern-glazed eyes. You weren't...talking to yourself, but something was definitely wrong. He didn't understand, because usually your upbeat character influenced even the trees and the flowers. Sometimes, well...most times, Muichiro found himself crippled by your infectious laughter, and that bright, playful smile...

A...some foreign...thing, rose inside him, and he became curious - not only of this odd feeling, but of what you were veiling from the world. Your eyes had forever been a contentious subject, and the people he questioned either didn't possess that knowledge, or wished to respect your privacy. Now, though...watching you amble around aimlessly, head lowered, an anxious aura surrounding you, all those thoughts washed away.

In seconds, he occupied a place at your side. "What are you doing?"

"H-Huh?!" Despite your heightened senses, you hadn't detected him.

...What hideous daydreams.

"I asked what you were doing. You'll fall, and get hurt if you don't pay attention."

Worry? Muichiro Tokito was worried...about such a simpleton as yourself?

With an audible gulp, you replied, "I-I'm fine, just...there's just something on my mind."

"What is it?"

No, no...were your ears working properly today?

A nervous chuckle escaped your lips. "Eh...n-nothing much...nothing to worry about, at least..."

"You're lying, aren't you? Is it something you can't tell me?"

Oh lord, forget demons - this one, small, but handsome young man...he would be your undoing.

#kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #demon slayer imagines #demon slayer muichiro #tokito muichiro #muichiro tokito x reader #kny muichiro

37 notes · View notes

krizaland · 4 years

Text

Enter the Zimvoid Chapter 28

First Chapter Previous

As we approach the grand finale, things are getting spicier than a Carolina Reaper pepper covered in hot sauce!

Be warned: More spoilers ahead!

Back in Zib’s dungeon, you and the rest of the group were frozen with fear as a familiar figure emerged from the shadows.

“Why do you all look so surprised? You didn’t actually think I’d let you get away that easily, did you?” Zib asked as a sinister grin spread across his face.

“Why can’t you just leave us alone already?!” You wailed as you tried to stand in front of your friends protectively.

“Aww! You still think you can keep protecting those precious Zims of yours!” Zib cooed with a mocking pout, “I honestly thought you were smarter than this!”

“Hey! Not everyone here is a Zim! What about me?! Huh?! I’m a Dib too you know!” Dib piped up as he gestured to himself.

“Oh right....Well look, as much as I would love to have another Dib help me out I can’t really let you go free. It’s nothing personal. I just don’t want you trying to steal Y/N from me.” Zib laughed as he rubbed the back of his head.

“What is with this obsession that you have with Y/N?!” Dib growled as he snapped a finger in Zib’s direction.

“Ugh! I thought that you, as a fellow Dib, would understand! I’m trying to protect Y/N from Zim’s manipulation! That and well, you know…I love them and stuff..” Zib chuckled as a slight blush spread across his face.

“This is crazy! How do you expect Y/N to be safe from Zim by forcing them to marry you?! What’s stopping Zim from tracking them down or something?! Huh?!” Dib ranted as he put his hands on his hips.

“Oh come on! You’re a Dib! You should be smart enough to figure things out by now! Zim won’t be able to track down Y/N because all Zims, as well as all Irken Empires, will have been destroyed by my Dib virus! There won’t be any Zims left to steal Y/N from me!” Zib explained as he pointed to the ceiling.

“Ok…But that still doesn’t explain why you need to marry Y/N-”

“Look, I feel for you, Dib. I really do. I know you love Y/N more than anything but they’ll never feel the same.” Zib sighed as he flung an arm over Dib’s shoulders.

“Don’t remind me…” Dib whimpered as he looked down at his feet.

“I’m doing your heart a favor by taking Y/N off your hands for you. With Y/N living with me, you’ll be free to move on and explore all the other fish in the sea!” Zib explained as he spread his free arm wide.

“I take offense to that!” Palindrome huffed as he folded his arms.

Dib wanted to respond but his mind couldn’t find any words to say.

All he could do was look down at his feet as a few tears trickled down his cheeks.

“Oh now, don’t cry. I’m certain there’s someone out there a softie like you could handle. Just not Y/N. I’ll tell you what, if you give Y/N back to me, I’ll help locate a better partner for you! How does that sound?” Zib offered gently.

“Argh! I can’t do that! I can’t leave Y/N to suffer!” Dib countered as he peeled Zib’s arm off of him.

“Oh please, Y/N will be just fine! Heck, they’ll be better than fine! They’ll be married to me after all! They’ll live their life in the safety of my loving arms!” Zib mimed cuddling you, “The only reason Y/N is suffering is because you’ve failed at keeping your Zim away from them!”

“What?! How could you say that?! I’ve done everything I could to stop him! I-”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. You’ve tried your best. But you didn’t succeed and now Y/N is being manipulated by an alien monster! They’re suffering because you were too soft to do anything to save them!” Zib ranted as he snapped a finger in Dib’s face.

“B-But…Bu-”

“But nothing! Face it! You’ve failed Y/N! If you truly want to put an end to their suffering you’ll return them to me at once!” Zib commanded as drool dribbled down his shirt.

Dib felt like he was shot in the chest. He didn’t really fail you did he? Maybe he really was that awful.

A few more tears trickled down Dib’s cheeks as his mind searched for something to say.

“SHUT UP ALREADY!”

The sound of your angry voice woke Dib from his thoughts.

“Shut up and stop lying to my Dib! Just because I don’t have romantic feelings for my Dib doesn’t mean I don’t care about him at all He’s still my best friend!” You snapped as you climbed onto Brutus’s head.

“R-Really? You still think I’m your best friend?” Dib’s eyes widened in shock as he turned up to look at you.

“No they don’t! They’re just saying that because-”

“I THOUGHT I TOLD YOU TO SHUT UP!” You interjected as you snapped a finger in Zib’s direction.

Zib shrank a bit as a few beads of sweat dripped down his face.

“You think you’re so high and mighty because you decided to mess with things that you have no business interfering with! How dare you insult my Dib when you’re so pathetic that you think a stolen PAK stuck to your gross head makes you a king!

My Dib did everything on his own! He didn’t need to steal a Zim’s PAK to make into Pandora’s Quadrangle! He didn’t need to steal a Zim’s PAK to be mature enough to work together with his enemies to achieve a common goal!

My Dib is stronger than you can ever hope to be! So don’t you dare stand there and insult him!” You ranted as you glared daggers as Zib.

Everyone’s jaws were on the floor as you continued your rampage.

“And speaking of people you’ve insulted, how dare you objectify me!

You sit there on your high horse and act like I’m just a little doll that someone stole from you on the playground!

Well guess what, Zib?! I am not a doll! I am not a trophy to be won!

I am Y/N L/N!

The only one who owns my heart and mind is me! Got that?! ME! No one else! Especially not some entitled drooling, baby who throws a tantrum whenever he doesn’t get his way! No amount of your harsh words or your stupid sciencey junk could ever change that!” You ranted as you dramatically moved your body to match your words.

“OOOOH!! BURN!!!!” 2k added as he climbed onto Brutus’s shoulder.

“That wasn’t just a mere burn. That was a full on murder.” Palindrome wheezed as he finally managed to regain his composure.

“If I may add something here, Zib, the fact that you honestly thought that disrupting the fabric of reality for your own petty gain was a good idea just shows how foolish you truly are. Say what you want about this Dib, but at least he has the sense to not go poking his big head where it doesn’t belong!” Specs added as he adjusted his glasses.

“And to think I actually considered you a leader! Hmph! I’m disgusted I even graced you with my superior presence! You spent so much time putting me down when you were just some scummy, FILTHY, SQUIRMY, Dib! The only reason I haven’t tried to destroy you is because it amuses me to watch you be verbally bludgeoned!” Majestzee cackled as he loomed over Zib.

“YEAH! TINY ZIB IS A STINKY BAD MAN! HE TELLS FILTHY LIES!” Brutus added as he cracked his knuckles.

Dib smiled and puffed out his chest.

“Y/N is right! I am stronger than you! You know what?! All of us here are stronger than you! Now let us all go home or else”!

#Invader zim #Invader zim x reader #Invader Zim comics #Invader Zim dib #Invader Zim spoilers #spoilers #invader zim into the zimvoid

24 notes · View notes

choicesfanatic86 · 5 years

Text

Through the Storm: Part 2

DISCLAIMER: All characters belong to Pixelberry Studios, except characters unique to my story. Those belong to me. ;)

PAIRINGS: Riley (MC) x OC, Riley (MC) x Liam, Liam x Riley (MC) x OC, Olivia x Drake, Bertrand x Savannah, Maxwell x OC

SUMMARY: Riley Lawson returned to New York a broken version of herself after a failed whirlwind romance. Years later, she has put the past behind her and rebuilt herself into a successful event planner who is happily enjoying her fast-paced New York lifestyle. However, just because she’s put the past behind her, doesn’t mean it won’t come back to haunt her. When an unexpected letter turns up on her doorstep, she’s forced to face the people and feelings she ran away from all those years ago.

Please check out my MASTERLIST.

PERMANENT TAG LIST: @umccall71 @drakelover78 @jamielea81 @bobasheebaby @speedyoperarascalparty @hopefulmoonobject @theroyalweisme @gardeningourmet @jlouise88 @hamulau @traeumerinwitzhelden @blackcatkita @mrs-simmy @kaitycole @alwaysthebestchoice @mfackenthal @trr-duchessofvaltoria @pbchoicesobsessed @liamxs-world @flyawayboo @devineinterventions2 @ranishajay @jayjay879 @alepowell @greyeyedsmile14 @mspaigemoore @princesaakl @annekebbphotography @angelicfangirl @katurrade @cordoniaqueensworld @ao719 @kingliam2019 @custaroonie @lovemychoices @texaskitten30 @harlequinash @smalltalk88 @pixieferry @thatspicegirlssong

Tag List for TTS Only: @herladyshipxx @captainkingliam @cocomaxley @queencatherynerhys @spetstoof @grapefrults @pessimystic-fangirl @dralenamax @hhiggs @penguininapinktuxedo @topsyturvy-dream @diamond-dreamland @pnhanga @ladynonsense @mrsdrakewalkerblog @crookedslimecreatorpasta @liamxs-world @flowerpowell @bruteforcebears @withice @jared2612 @darley1101 @sleeplessescapades @leelee10898 @craftytacotrashdream @eileendannie @bella-ca @x0valkyrie @sunandlemons

11/27/29 - If you want to be removed from the tag or be tagged, please message me! :)

PART 2 - OPENING PANDORA’S BOX

My hands began to tremble as I held the thick envelope in my hands. What the heck could it possibly be? I gently ran my hand over the beautiful, red crest that adorned the back of the envelope. It was refined. It instantly reminded me of my time in Cordonia. It reminded me of the fancy etiquette lessons with Bertrand . . . the grand balls where everyone performed waltzes and rehearsed dances . . . the gorgeous, flowing gowns that used to cling tightly to my body . . . the way he held on tightly to me as we glided across the dance floor. It made me remember him.

I shook my head, trying to rid the thoughts from my head. That was a lifetime ago. I’m not the same person that I was back then. I’ve moved on from that life and everything in it . . . including the Beaumont Brothers. What could they possibly want from me after all this time? I hadn’t heard anything from anyone back in Cordonia in nearly two years.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. I hadn’t heard from the others – Bertrand, Hana, Drake, him . . . they had all respected my wishes to be left alone. Maxwell, on the other hand, hadn’t taken my departure well at all. In true form, he had relentlessly tried to contact me. Emails, telephone calls, he even tried to add me on a few of my social media accounts. In hindsight, I had been truly awful to him. He was nothing but kind and loyal to me during my time in Cordonia, and all he wanted to do was stay in touch . . . but I just couldn’t. It hurt far too much. Thinking of Maxwell meant thinking about him, and that just couldn’t happen.

Whenever he attempted to contact me, I would change my phone number . . . if he happened to get a hold of my email address, I would change my email address shortly thereafter . . . it got to the point that I had to deactivate all of my social media accounts just to get away from his incessant pestering to come back. Come home, as he had put it. But Cordonia was never my home. Not really. Many at court had made that utterly clear. I didn’t belong. I wasn’t one of them, and I never would be. I was a mere commoner from New York . . . I wasn’t even European bred. All I would ever be was some low-class waitress with no future. That’s all they could see when they looked at me. It was bad enough trying to survive a broken heart, but to also deal with the constant whispers and comments behind my back? I just couldn’t do it.

By the end of the engagement tour, I was broken. Madeline had won. I didn’t have any fight left in me. I regretted the day he walked into my bar and made me fall in love with him. I wished that I never stepped foot in that blasted country because all it ended up bringing me was pain and heartache. A few months after I left, the attempts at contact went silent . . . or maybe I had finally hidden myself enough that no one knew where I was anymore. Or perhaps, Maxwell finally caught the hint that I was never going back to Cordonia. That I had moved on . . . and maybe Maxwell realized he should have moved on, too. But this envelope . . . this damn envelope said something different. Apparently, they hadn’t forgotten about me. But maybe I didn’t want to be remembered.

“Get rid of it,” I said curtly, before tossing the envelope on the coffee table. “Toss it in the trash, fly it out the window. I don’t care what you do with it. Just get it out of here. I don’t want to open it.”

“What?” Andy exclaimed. “Why?” She said, following me back into my bedroom.

“I don’t want to talk about it Andy. Not now. Not ever,” I said firmly.

God, one damn envelope and I feel like my whole world is collapsing. Who did they think they were, huh? I was doing fine. I was happy. I had gone nearly three months without so much as a second thought about any of them . . . then they just contact me out of the blue like this? I paused, I was spiraling. This happened a lot when I first moved back. I tried to calm my breathing. I could feel myself hyperventilating.

“You’re freaking me out!” Andy exclaimed. “You’re being ridiculous right now,” she scolded. “What has you tripping out so badly? It’s just an envelope for God’s sake, Riley.”

“Nothing in that envelope will be of any good to me, Andy. I mean it. Get rid of it,” I pleaded with her.

“No way,” she shook her head. “If you won’t open it; I will,” she said, her hands grabbing at the envelope, her fingers starting to pull at the envelope’s seal.

“Stop,” I yelled.

“What has gotten into you?” She said. I could feel the judgment in her eyes. Why couldn’t she just leave this alone? Couldn’t she see that this envelope was like Pandora’s box and once I opened it, there would be no going back. I couldn’t just seal it up again and pretend that it didn’t exist.

“Andy please,” I sighed heavily, trying my best to fight back the tears that so desperately wanted to fall.

“Riley, you need to tell me what’s going on,” she said with a mixture of confusion and worry in her voice. “Do I need to call Paul?” She asked in desperation. She was holding the envelope out of my reach.

I threw myself onto the couch, my chest feeling heavier than it had ever felt before. “I don’t even know how they found me,” I whispered.

“What are you going on about?” Andy looked at me with stern eyes.

“Please . . . “ I begged. “I just can’t deal with this right now . . . I just . . . I can’t talk about any of this,” I sighed.

“Riley, we don’t keep secrets,” she said seriously. “Never have I ever kept anything from you. We tell each other everything. The good . . .the bad . . . the crazy. This is a no judgment zone. You know that. Whatever is in that envelope . . . no matter how bad you think it is . . . I’m here for you, and I’d never let anything hurt you . . . you know that right?”

My voice was caught in my throat, so I could only nod. I cleared my throat, my eyes pleading with her. “Just . . . just get rid of it,” I pleaded. The tears that I had so desperately tried to hold back now flowing freely down my cheeks.

I could see the fear and trepidation in Andy’s eyes. She looked at me again and tossed the envelope in the trash. “Okay,” she conceded. “If that’s what you want . . . I’m going to respect your wishes. I’m going to give you some privacy so that you can deal with . . . with whatever that was about,” she said. She slowly started to retreat out of my bedroom. “But Ri?” “Yeah?” I whispered.

“We’re going to talk about all of this when you’re feeling up to it, okay? Whatever is bothering you . . .or scaring you . . . it’s not good to keep that crap in,” she said firmly before closing the door behind her. I sighed, throwing myself onto my bed. With the door closed and Andy out of the room, I finally allowed myself to truly fall apart.

It was a few hours later when I woke with a start. I had cried myself to sleep. God, I was a train wreck. My eyes shifted to the alarm clock on my end table and my heartbeat quickened. I was going to be late for my date with Paul. I threw the covers off of me, and looked in my vanity mirror. I looked horrible. My eyes were swollen, my cheeks were blotchy, and my hair was disheveled. How could things have turned so poorly in a matter of hours? I quickly ran to my bathroom and tried my best to camouflage the hours of crying with some make up. I threw on the cutest outfit I could find and hustled to find a comfortable pair of boots. I needed to throw myself into this date with Paul and not think about everything that happened over the last couple of hours.

I rushed into the living room heading straight toward the kitchen to grab my keys, when I was jolted in surprise. Andy was sitting at the island counter waiting for me.

“Hey,” Andy said softly as turned to face me. “Can we talk?”

I shook my head in disagreement. “I’m running late . . . my date with Paul . . .” I trailed off.

“Riley, we need to talk. Text Paul and let him know that you’re running late. He’ll wait for you,” she assured me.

I swallowed thickly, a large lump forming in my throat. “Okay,” I sighed, knowing that she wouldn’t give in so easily. I had a major freak out . . . something that I don’t think she had ever seen before. After shooting a quick text to Paul, I turned my full attention to Andy. “I really don’t want to get into all of this right now . . . “ I started to say, hoping that she would just let all of this drop so that we can move forward with our lives.

“Well . . . you’re going to have to give me something, Riley,” she persisted.

“I’m fine,” I murmured, my voice coming out a bit choppy. I cleared my throat. “I’m fine,” I said a little louder.

“You’re not,” she said adamantly.

I shook my head shortly. “I am. I was just . . .a bit caught off guard.”

She didn’t believe me. I could see it in her eyes. She knew that I was lying through my teeth. The makeup may have hid my red nose and swollen face from all of my crying, but she could see the pain in my eyes. My eyes started to water again . . .and I tried to sniff them back and hold it together.

Andy sensed that the tears were about to fall and pulled me into an embrace so tight that I felt like I couldn’t breathe.

“I’m not okay,” I gasped out, and the tears began to slide down my cheeks.

Andy’s embrace became tighter, her arm rhythmically rubbing up and down my back, trying to calm the sobs that kept coming out.

“Ri,” Andy hesitantly began. “What’s going on?” She softly pulled back to look at me. “Who is this letter from?”

I shrugged, wiping the tears away from my face. “Some people I never thought I’d hear from again.”

“You’re going to have to give me a bit more than that,” she reasoned.

I turned away from Andy. I knew she was worried. I couldn’t bear to look her in the eyes. “It’s complicated,” I muttered as I rubbed my forehead. All of the crying had caused a headache to come on. “It’s a long story.”

“I’ve got lots of time.” Andy pulled me over to the couch, sitting me down on one side while she sat on the other. She grabbed a pillow and placed it behind her back. “And now I’m extra comfy. Plus, I’m not going to quit bugging you until you tell me what you’re freaking out, so really, you’d just be better off getting this over with already.” She smiled, nudging me with her elbow.

“I thought you had a thesis to work on,” I said, motioning to the paperwork strewn all across the coffee table and floor. I didn’t want to talk about it. Not now. Maybe not ever.

“This is more important.” Andy grabbed my hand, squeezing it tightly. “Now spill.”

I couldn’t help but sigh. Cordonia had been my dirty little secret for so long that I didn’t really know what to say. When I moved back to New York, I didn’t tell anyone about my time gallivanting across Europe. I was so dead set on forgetting everyone and everything that it was easier to just pretend that none of it actually happened.

My gaze met Andy’s eager stare. Maybe it was finally time to come clean about everything that happened? After all, before the envelope arrived I was happy and thriving. Hadn’t the wounds healed? I was way better than when I first moved back. I had great friends, an amazing boyfriend, a fantastic business . . . things had changed for the better. I swallowed again willing myself to be strong enough to talk about everything that had happened back in Cordonia.

“Okay . . . so, before we met, I was a wreck,” I began slowly. “I told you that I had been traveling before coming back to New York.” Andy nodded. “You did like a summer abroad thing, right?” She asked.

“Not exactly,” I sighed. “I had been waiting tables trying to save enough money so that I could go back to school. It was a dead end job really, but it paid my bills and I was so close to having enough money to finish out my degree,” I explained.

“Okay . . .” she trailed off. “That’s how you could afford to do the study abroad program then?”

“I never participated in a study abroad program,” I said quietly. “I let you believe that’s what happened because I didn’t want to talk about what really happen.

Andy’s eyes widened. “Wait, so you lied to me?” Her face hardened into an angry grimace.

“I didn’t lie . . . I just never corrected you when you assumed that I was doing a study abroad program,” I said hurriedly. “I didn’t want to talk about what I was really doing because it was too hard and it hurt too much,” I explained.

Andy stiffened her back. “Well, what were you doing then if you weren’t studying abroad?”

“So, I left Cordonia about two years ago. It’s a tiny country in Europe right off the Mediterranean.” I grabbed one of our decorative pillows and squeezed it tightly to my chest. “I never talked about my time there because it wasn’t the greatest experience of my life. I had no intention of going back there so I figured what was the point in bringing it up?” I brushed a loose strand of hair out of my face. “I didn’t even really plan on seeing any of the people I met again. Something happened … and I just wanted to forget things … move on.”

I shook my head. I wasn’t making any sense. I was started to ramble. This was a lot harder than I had expected it to be. I inhaled deeply. “I guess I better start at the beginning,” I said as I exhaled the breath I had taken in.

“That’s typically a good place to start.” Andy smirked, trying to lighten the mood.

“Right . . . so I was working the night shift at Upscale; it was almost closing time and this party walks in, tourists … you know the kind, loud, flashy,” I started to motion with my hands. “My coworker asked me to take them because he was running late for a date. I needed the extra cash and figured a large party like that would likely leave a pretty big tip, so I took it. It was four guys celebrating a bachelor party. At the end of the night, one of the members of the party came up to me and started talking to me, asked if I knew any good places for them to continue their evening,” I explained.

“Sounds like he was trying to hit on you,” Andy commented.

I smiled at the memory. “I kind of thought he was, too,” I agreed. “Anyway, I offered a few suggestions, and then he asked if I wanted to join them. He said they weren’t really familiar with the area and the wanted a New Yorker to show them around. I was almost off the clock and I didn’t exactly have a full social calendar, so I figured why not? They were all pretty cute, and I was looking forward to having a good time.”

“Sounds harmless enough,” Andy nodded in agreement.

“Exactly . . . and the guy that invited me … he seemed pretty special.” I blushed as my head filled with thoughts about him. I could vividly remember everything about him. How he looked. What he wore. How he smelled. Just thinking of that night caused my heart to beat faster.

Andy looked at me eagerly, prodding at me to continue.

“We kind of hit it off, and we ended up spending most of the night together – talking, laughing, sharing our dreams. It was intense. I hadn’t felt that sort of connection with someone … well ever.” I smiled softly. “But at the same time, I was trying my best not to get too invested in him because, well, they were tourists and I the last thing I wanted to become was a one night hook up, so I accepted that the only thing that would come out of that night was a great connection with a seemingly great guy.” I adjusted myself on the couch, swinging both of my legs underneath me to get more comfortable. “As the night went on, he let slip that they were out celebrating his bachelor party.” Andy’s eyes grew to the size of saucers. “You minx, you!” Andy exclaimed. “Hitting on a semi-married guy!”

I shook my head. “You have it all wrong. It wasn’t like that.” I remember feeling the exact same way though. I remember being so angry at him for misleading me during the whole night. “Of course, I freaked out and yelled at him about being a player . . . but then he explained that he didn’t know who he was going to be marrying.”

She arched an eyebrow. “Um … how is that even possible?”

"Right? I thought the exact same thing. So … this is where I might lose you … I don’t even know if I believe it sometimes. So, like I said they were tourists from Cordonia on vacation in the states for his bachelor party. He just so happened to be part of Cordonia’s royal family.”

If Andy’s jaw could gape any wider than it already was, I would have been shocked. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I know … trust me, I know. It sounds unbelievable. I didn’t believe it at first. Honestly, the first thing I wanted to do after he told me was run away. Especially since everything sounded so ridiculously complicated . . . but like I said . . . I was resigned to the fact that nothing would happen between us anyway and that it was just one of those serendipitous moments where you form a great connection but nothing more comes of it.”

I started to fiddle with the pillow that I was holding. I ran my fingers over the edges. I looked down, the memories becoming a bit too much for me to handle.

“Of course . . . it didn’t end up that way,” I sighed. “After we all went our separate ways that night, I tried not to think about him. But he was all I thought about for the rest of the night and into the following morning. It was like I was some sort of lovesick teenager,” I sighed. “Crazy right? I knew the guy for all of a few hours and I couldn’t stop thinking about him,”

Andy gave my knee an encouraging squeeze. “Not crazy . . . you can’t help when you make a connection with someone,” she said trying to comfort me.

“Well, then before I knew it … Maxwell … the guy I’m thinking sent me the letter,” I said pointing to the trash can “was at my bar convincing me to go back with them as a possible suitor for the Crown Prince. It was crazy. Hell, I was crazy. But I figured why the hell not? So I quit my job, packed a couple of bags, grabbed my passport, and off I went.”

“Just like that?” Andy seemed genuinely surprised.

“Just like that.” I nodded.

Andy laughed a little, “That sounds nothing like you. You’re always so careful and calculated about everything.”

“Oh believe me, it was actually very like me, at least the me back then. I liked to take risks, and I had figured even if it didn’t work out with him, I’d get to go on one hell of an adventure. Of course, I never thought I’d actually fall in love.” My voice softened a little. “Through all the stupid competitions and court events, I fell in love with him. Didn’t think I would … but I did. And he fell in love with me. At least I thought he did.”

Andy put her arm around me. “It sounds like he meant a lot to you.”

“He did, but then things happened and we couldn’t be together.” I wiped at my eyes. God . . . I haven’t cried this much in years. I didn’t want to rehash all of the awful memories. I didn’t want to think about how the engagement tour had gutted me . . . I didn’t want to think about Madeline wearing his ring and holding his hand. After all this time, it still broke my heart to remember what it was like sitting on the sidelines while someone else planned to marry the man of my dreams.

“Well, I know the story doesn’t have a happy ending because you ended up back here.” She looked a bit sad as she said it. “I mean . . . wow, Ri. It sounds like you had the love of a lifetime,” she admitted sadly.

I gave her a half-hearted smile. “At the time, I didn’t think it was a happy ending, but you know what, it was a happy ending in disguise. Had things worked out how they were supposed, I would be there instead of here with you.”

I knew I was right. Had things ended with me marrying him . . . my whole life would be so different. Who knows if I would even be happy? I never would have met Andy . . . I never would have had my own business. I never would have met Paul. This was my life now. No good could come from dwelling on the past.

“And that’s why I don’t want to open the envelope,” I said. “I’m happy it’s in the trash. It’s not going to change what happened or who I am now, so what good will opening it do?”

“Maybe it’ll give you some closure?”

“Or maybe it’ll be like Pandora’s box and will open a whole new set of problems,” I said frankly. “Andy . . . this is my life. I can’t go through what I went through all those years ago,” I said confidently.

“What if I opened it for you?” Andy asked. “It must be pretty important, Ri. This Maxwell guy went through a lot of trouble to make sure it got to you.”

I shook my head once more. “No. Ignorance is bliss right? Maybe not knowing what’s inside is better. Nothing good comes from stirring up the past, especially things that involve Cordonia.”

“Riley, I know there’s some bad memories . . . “ Andy trailed off.

I shot her an irritated look.

“Okay, maybe that’s an understatement. But look … if these people cared enough to reach out to you … after all this time … don’t you think you owe it to yourself to find out why?”

I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. “Andy . . . enough. You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Hey, I’m serious. You said it yourself, you don’t even know how they found you. They must have spent a great deal of time and energy trying to track you down.”

I licked my lips anxiously as I watched her head over to the trash bin. She picked the envelope out of the trash, and flung it over to me.

“Regret is a crummy feeling, Riley. I know you think that pretending that this letter doesn’t exist seems like the right thing, but trust me when I say it isn’t,” she said calmly. “It might not matter to you now . . . it might not matter to you ten years from now . . . but maybe in twenty years when you think back on it, it will. And there’s nothing you can do about it then except wonder ‘what if?’”

“What if it’s something bad?” I asked, my voice cracking.

“What if it’s your friends reaching out because they miss you?” Andy countered.

I picked the envelope off the couch where it had landed after Andy threw it at me. There was a part of me that knew Andy was right. Would I be able to live with myself years from now if I was filled with regret about not knowing what the letter said? I played with the edges of the thick envelope. The letter was from one of the Beaumont brothers, of that I was certain, and throughout my time in Cordonia they had been nothing but kind and protective of me. They were like the older brothers I never had growing up. They took me into their home, accepted me as a member of their house, and asked for nothing in return. I sighed heavily, looking at Andy for encouragement.

“No matter what happens, I’m here for you,” she said, reaching out and squeezing my shoulder.

I took a deep breath before I started to slowly slide my finger across the envelope’s seal. I could feel my heartbeat quicken in anticipation. I carefully removed the elegant letter. Scanning through the wording, I immediately realized what it was.

“It’s a wedding invitation,” I exclaimed in surprise. As I opened it further I noticed that there was a tiny slip of paper nestled in the envelope. Two words were scrawled in Maxwell’s chicken scratch along with an email address.

Please Come. [email protected]

#liam #king liam #liam x riley #liam x mc #trr #choices trr #trr fanfic #trr fic #ohtheangst #the royal romance #theroyalromance #choices the royal romance #the royal romance fan fic #Royal Romance #choices #choices fanfiction #secondchances #playchoices #maxwell beaumont

54 notes · View notes

pendraegon · 4 years

Text

@imthemuthafuckingcricket replied to your post “god. im truly getting into this sauce huh. but. oz vessalius pandora...”

Huh I never finished reading this series(made it pretty close to the end But alas didn't cross the finish line) and the plot is vague to me but I remember being obsessed with the character designs and loving Gilbert/Raven. And having a very strong distaste for Vincent.

god. the end was saifdokasdas the catharsis of it but i also got irrationally angry over one (1) part of it because i thought it was needlessly cruel to gilbert... but pandora hearts and tsubasa reservoir chronicles are the only two series that even i couldn’t guess to plot twist to (i mean like, trc doesn’t make sense though? asiodfjsaoidas)

oasjfidosajdsaoidfjas i didn’t care for vincent but my sis really liked him so it was like a begrudging... ok. i’ll be less vitriolic towards this character bc u like him (although i guess i did understand his whole “im doing this for my brother” vibe)...but...gilbert............gilbert..

#imthemuthafuckingcricket #jack vessalius choke challenge <33 #but god. i think pandora hearts and full metal alchemist are the only things i reread regularly...that and xxxholic #cricket #pandora hearts

1 note · View note

wholesome-holland · 5 years

Text

Back To December

Hey guys! This imagine is loosely based off of the song “Back To December” by Taylor Swift. I hope you like it! ( @tyrus-is-endgame-fight-me )

Word Count: 3143 (wHOOPS)

——————

It was the beautiful and chilly month of February in Shadyside.

The sidewalks were lined with long grasses and colorful flowers all around, the sun out and beaming with the clouds occasionally blocking it from the town.

It was around 23° on this fine Wednesday, around 6 or 7 p.m.

TJ Kippen was strolling around town, no specific reason. He just wanted to go for a walk. He stuck his earbuds in, clicked on Pandora and that was that.

TJ found himself in the neighborhood of his ex-boyfriend, Cyrus Goodman. He decided he'd hold his breath, and continue his walk.

With every passing minute he came closer and closer to passing Cyrus' house. He felt himself going slower as he passed the house, coming to an almost complete stop.

He looked over the house, just observing and remembering. He even saw the silhouettes of Leslie and Todd in the living room.

TJ simply smiled softly to himself, he couldn't help but wonder how they're doing. He always loved being at Cyrus' house and being around his folks. All four of them. They were so kind and funny, they treated him like part of the family even before he and Cyrus were together.

TJ blinked back small tears and continued with his walk before he got home, and went directly to bed.

The following day at school, TJ was exiting the gym and getting ready to head to his last period when his body came to a halt.

He saw Buffy and Cyrus talking at Cyrus' locker. "Hey Cy, I haven't seen you much today." Buffy spoke.

"Yeah, sorry. I've been kinda dodging everyone today." Cyrus said, sounding gloomy. TJ wished he could fix whatever was wrong.

He listened to Buffy and Cyrus talk. It was nothing major, he shouldn't have been eavesdropping, but he couldn't help himself. Buffy and Cyrus took off, or so he thought. As he was walking and not paying attention, he came in contact with someone else's smaller frame.

"Sorry, I—" TJ's breath hitched when he recognized Cyrus' voice. "Oh, hi TJ." He said. "Hey Cyrus." TJ replied. They stood in silence for a few seconds. "How are you?" Cyrus asked.

"I'm okay, I—I guess. You?" He stammered nervously over his words. Cyrus shrugged, a semi blank yet painful look on his face. "I've been alright." His voice hardened, but not too harshly. Cyrus was visibly tense, so TJ sighed and pushed past him, mumbling a quick "sorry" as he left.

TJ didn't even go to class. He went to an empty classroom where he would most likely not get caught. He knew he wouldn't. This wasn't the first time he'd gone there, and it surely wouldn't be the last.

He sat on the floor in a corner, fidgeting with his fingers and staring off. His mind was racing with different thoughts. Everyone being about Cyrus.

He understood why Cyrus was so, what was the word? Cautious? Careful? Guarded? All of those. They hadn't spoken in months, and their last conversation wasn't exactly one he was proud of.

•

"Hey Teej!" Cyrus said excitedly, approaching the swings they frequently visited together.

TJ took a deep breathe, muttering a quick "hey" as Cyrus swiped the snow onto the ground and took a seat on his usual swing.

Cyrus almost instantly furrowed his brows together in confusion, a look of concern crossing his features. "Hey, what's wrong?" He asked, reaching over to grab one of TJ's hands.

TJ snagged his hand away and crossed his arms, his body facing away from his boyfriend.

Cyrus decided to pretend that didn't hurt his feelings, and kept trying to see what was wrong with TJ.

"TJ," Cyrus said softly. "What happened? Talk to me." Cyrus pried.

TJ wouldn't even look at him. He couldn't, he knew if he did, he wouldn't be able to go through with this.

TJ tried to blink away the tears forming in his eyes, turning even further form Cyrus. "We need to break up."

Cyrus just about jumped. He surely had to have heard TJ wrong, right? TJ didn't say that.

"What? I'm sorry I think I heard you wrong. I thought you said—" TJ cut off his sentence. "That we need to break up? Yeah, that's what I said." TJ said, trying to cover the pain in his tone with bitterness.

Cyrus froze. "W-What?" Was all he could muster. He swore he'd start crying if he said anything else.

He stood up quickly, walking around to TJ's front side. TJ stood up as well but looked away. "Move, please. I have places to go." He mentally cursed himself for how he was acting, but he had to do it.

"I—uh— wait—I'm—" Cyrus couldn't even form words. If he tried, it came out as word vomit. "Why?" He asked.

TJ didn't respond. He still avoided eye contact. "TJ, look at me." Cyrus almost demanded. Still, TJ was stubborn. "This, this is a sick joke right? Like you're just trying to pull an asshole move or something?" Cyrus felt his voice shake as he talked. He hated that he couldn't keep it steady.

"No it's not." TJ said, staring at his feet, mastering a cold tone. "I have to go. We're done."

TJ stepped past him, his shoulder bumping and brushing against Cyrus'. Cyrus spun around and grabbed TJ's arm, pulling in almost in a circle. "Just tell me what happened. Obviously something did." Cyrus pointed out.

"Nothing happened." TJ hissed. "This was a mistake." That still wouldn't do it.

"A mistake?" Cyrus almost could laugh. "If it was a mistake, why'd you let it go on for six months, huh? Why'd you stay with me, she. You could've easily left me sooner?" He challenged. "If I am correct, if it was a 'mistake' you wouldn't have cared about sparing my feelings so don't even use that excuse, TJ."

TJ sucked in air deeply, releasing it in almost a growl. "Can you just leave it? I already said this is done and told you why."

"No, you didn't actually. You're lying to me. I know you TJ, and I know you're an awful liar." Cyrus hissed out.

"Or— Maybe you were just wrong about me this whole time. Maybe I'm just a prick after all, and maybe I want you to leave me alone and let me go on as who I am." TJ said harshly. He forced out the tone of slight anger, trying to make it seem more real, like he was annoyed.

Cyrus' breathing picked up, his desperation was starting to make its place in his body each time he spoke, as much as he tried to hide it. "But you aren't! TJ you're a good person. I know that, you know it too. I know you do."

TJ stayed quiet as Cyrus started thinking out loud. "This, this is an act. I know it is. I, you, we— we love each other. I love you, you love me. We're boyfriends, we— Uh, you... I remember you told me you love me. And all things you love about me too. And you pay attention to me and you care for me and you're trustworthy and an overall good person so I don't understa—"

"It's not an act! This is who I am Cyrus. And I am not your boyfriend. Not anymore. I already told you, we're done. All of it was fake. My feelings were fake," He had to stop and swallow before saying "I don't love you."

It was that moment that the words left TJ's lips that Cyrus broke. The tears he'd been keeping in, the rage and anger he'd locked in, the pure disgust and feeling of betrayal all let loose.

He stepped up to TJ, looking him right in the eye even if TJ wasn't returning eye contact. He swung and hit TJ in the chest. Cyrus' fists repeatedly struck TJ on the chest, his tears falling. TJ finally grabbed Cyrus by the arms and looked at him— like truly looked at him for the first time this entire conversation.

He felt his heart break. He felt the self hatred wedge itself into his mind. He saw the pain he caused Cyrus, that he wished he could take back. Cyrus ripped his arms away from him.

"You were right Kippen. You're just a cold hearted jerk! You're a jerk and a liar, and I should have never let you help me get that muffin!"

Ouch. TJ thought, watching as Cyrus walked away. When he was out of ear shot, he broke. He was sobbing loudly In his hands before his knees buckled beneath him and he fell to the ground.

Even though he knew it was for the best, it didn't make it hurt any less.

•

That day, that awful day that changed everything was December 12th.

I'm such an ass. TJ told himself. I should've waited longer, till I knew completely. The dismissal bell rung, signaling the students to leave. He stood up and dash out of the classroom, making his way to the bus and sitting in his regular seat with his things. He looked at the date, February 12th.

It was two months since the break up. Two months since he ruined his own relationship.

The bus stopped, and he saw it was his stop. He walked home, going instantly to his room and sitting on the floor and facing the window. Two months. Two whole months it had been since he had Cyrus at his side. He felt so guilty still, he wanted to apologize and explain his actions and lies but he couldn't do it. He couldn't bring himself to find Cyrus, pull him aside, and explain everything.

He saw his reflection and he saw a coward. A coward who was feeling bad for himself when he brought it upon himself. Just for it to mean nothing in the end, and probably hurt even more for Cyrus since he never got some sort of closure.

He knew if it was the other way around, and Cyrus broke up with him out of the blue with no explanation and said the absolutely awful and cruel things TJ said, he would hardly be able to sleep at night. He'd go insane trying to figure out why. And knowing Cyrus, he probably was.

But who knows, maybe he moved on. Maybe he didn't care about TJ. Maybe he even hated TJ. Hell, TJ hated TJ.

Amber walked into her twins room, seeing him sulking by the window. "Hey TJ." She said carefully, making her way over to her brother.

"Hey." He mumbled. "You're thinking about him aren't you?" She asked. He simply nodded. "It's almost been two months." He said. Amber looked at him sympathetically, "T, you're my brother and I love you. You know that, but you also should've listened to me and waited till things were final. Had you waited two more days—" "I fuckin' get it, okay?! I screwed up. I don't need you reminding me too." He hissed.

TJ instantly felt bad. Amber stood up and went to leave when he called out. "I'm sorry, okay? Today was just rough on me."

She stopped and turned back around. "It's okay, and I get it. I would be acting the same way if I was in your position." Amber told him, sitting back down by his side.

"What should I do?" He asked almost inaudibly. "I think you need to apologize. Explain to him the situation. Cyrus is a forgiving person, and he'll understand you were just trying to protect him—" "—in an extremely shitty way?"

"Yeah." She said. After talking to Amber for a few more minutes, he decided he'd do it. He'd go find Cyrus, see if he'll hear him out, and apologize.

Even if he's lost Cyrus forever, due to himself, he needed to know that Cyrus knew why. So that began his jog to Cyrus' house.

His heart was pumping and the blood was rushing through his veins. The pit in his stomach that hadn't left in two months was more present than it ever had been, and it only felt like two seconds before he was in front of the door and knocking.

He stared at the wood porch flooring, waiting and waiting. He knocked again, waiting a little longer.

Just as he was about to turn and leave, Leslie answered the door. "TJ! What a surprise." She said with a warm smile.

That surprised TJ. Surely she knows everything and hates him. I mean, come on He thought.

"Hi Mrs. Goodman, uh, can I talk to Cyrus? Please? If not it's fine—" She cut him off by holding one finger up.

"Cyrus! Someone's here for you!" She shouted. "Would you like to come in?" She offered. He shook his head, "Could me and him go on a walk by any chance?" He lowly asked. She nodded. "Cy, make sure your being a warm jacket down!"

TJ shivered in his thin hoodie, realizing he shouldn't brought a jacket. It was snowing a decent amount, and the wind certainly didn't help.

He and Cyrus finally met gazes. "Thanks mom, we'll be back soon. Love you." Cyrus quickly said before stepping out side with the door closing behind him.

They stood on the porch, staring at one another. "Could we walk?" TJ asked. Cyrus motioned for him to go on, which began their awkward and silent walk.

TJ was nervous still, but he finally decided to speak up. "This was really random, I know. But I need to explain something." He said hesitantly. Cyrus stopped, looking at TJ with a look saying "go on".

"You, I, you—we, I um, I'm..." TJ stammered on. "Spit it out." Cyrus said, much harsher than intended as his heart and body ached with pain.

Worried that Cyrus would get fed up and walk away, he began talking really fast and in confusing circles.

"Cyrus, I'm so sorry that I broke up with you and that I hurt you without any explanation. I was lying when I said our relationship was a mistake, and that I didn't love you, I thought it would be what was best for you and I took it too far and I'm so sorry for everything I said. There's no excuses for anything except I am an asshole who decided to lie as a way to protect you and—"

"TJ!" Cyrus shouted. "Slow down. Gather your thoughts, I'm not going." He said, speaking softer than before.

"My dad, he... he lost his job in December. My mom was laid off at work, and we were gonna lose our house. My parents told my sister and I that we were more than likely moving out of Shadyside." TJ explained, talking at a normal and understandable pace.

Cyrus looked confused. "Why does that have to do with our break up?" He asked. "I didn't have the heart to tell you we could have been leaving. I thought for sure we were going and that we were going soon, so I thought breaking up with you and making you hate me wouldn't hurt as much, but it did. And it does. And I'm so sorry for lying to you and for hurting you. You didn't deserve one bit of it." TJ continued with a sad and teary sigh. "I don't expect you to forgive me, but I needed you to know that. Ive owed it to you."

He waited for Cyrus to say something, anything. But nothing. "I'll leave you alone, I'll leave you alone forever if you want that. But please know I am so, so sorry." His voice broke mid sentence, and he turned and started making his way home.

"I still love you." TJ froze dead in his tracks. Tears rolled off his cheeks as he looked back at Cyrus, who had tears of his own staining his face. "I never stopped, I don't know if I can."

Cyrus slowly stepped toward the blonde haired boy, placing a gentle arm on his bicep and turning him around.

"Look, TJ..." Before Cyrus could continue,he was cut off. "Cyrus—" Cyrus shook his head. "Let me talk." TJ quickly shut up. "Teej, what you said to me, it hurt me. A lot. It broke my heart beyond belief, and I never thought I'd be happy again," He started. TJ felt his heart beat rapidly as he waited for Cyrus to continue. "You lies to me and broke up with me without any reason. For that, I don't think I can fully forgive you yet." He continued on.

Cyrus grabbed one of TJ's hands, "But, I love you. And I want to try this again." TJ almost started bawling. "Cyrus I— you don't know how happy that makes me to hear that, but how? I hurt you so bad, I told you I didn't love you! Which was the biggest lie. I said things I cant and never will be able to take back, and I hate myself for it. I hate myself so much for how I hurt you. Cy, I love you so so so much and I hurt you..." TJ rambled on and on.

"I don't care about any of that!" Cyrus exclaimed, cupping TJ's face in his hands. "I love you, and sometimes love is gonna hurt and is gonna be hard, I'll forgive you eventually, it'll take time, but I want— no, need you in my life again. I need you back, Teej."

TJ couldn't believe it. So much was happening at once, and he couldn't help but start sobbing. Cyrus pulled him into his shoulder, allowing him to cry in his shoulder. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry... I," TJ paused. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me." Cyrus whispered. "There's no need." He patted TJ's back, and he soon pulled away and wiped his eyes.

They rested their foreheads on each other's, their breathes mixing to create one between them. Cyrus was the one to close the gap, standing on his tip toes and leaning forward, connecting their lips. The kiss said so many things. It said I'm sorry, it said I love you, it said don't leave me and it said I've missed you so much.

The words stuck unspoken, they both knew to was true. That didn't keep TJ from saying "I love you so much" against the brunette boy's lips. Cyrus pulled away, "I love you too." He said in a soft and sweet voice. A happy voice. A loving voice. Cyrus grabbed TJ's hands.

"You're freezing! Let's get you to inside, ASAP!" TJ chuckled but didn't argue. He and Cyrus stayed inseparable from then on, they were madly in love and they knew it too.

Nothing, nothing would keep them and their love apart ever again.

#andi mack #cyrus goodman #tj kippen #tyrus #buffy driscoll #tyrus one shot #tyrus angst #tyrus fic #tyrus andi mack #tyrus fanfic

242 notes · View notes

hearteyes-for-killmonger · 5 years

Text

[Re-Upload since the other was marked explicit. Let me know if paragraphs are out of order or you see mistakes because it always happens when I copy and paste from wattpad 🙄] Check out Pandora’s Box by @amethyst1993 if you’re interested in the club Erik went to. The context is different, but I referenced it.

Part 12: Communication

“How do you feel,” Erik asked in the parked car, a loaded question, but he wasn’t leaving until they had the discussion. It wasn’t something to gloss over or sit on. She’d witnessed and participated in some shit that was far beyond her comfort zone and it looked as though she was beginning to withdraw into herself. That wasn’t what she needed to do. “Overwhelmed? Confused? Was it a lot? Regrets? What. Talk to me.”

“It was a lot,” she said with a breath. He reached out slowly for her hand and for a long while they sat in silence, summer night air filling the car. A memory came to mind and he went back and forth between whether or not to share it. As the silence stretched, he decided that he could.

“First time I was introduced to BDSM… before I became a dominant.. I went to this club..,” he paused recalling the details of that fateful night. “I was messing with this girl.. Ashleigh. We had a class together then and she asked me out, so I went. I was still in college then..” he nodded. “I was expecting the typical, you know, crowded bar and dance floor, women in tight dresses. They throwin ass. You get a dance, drink some Henny and get out type shit. Yeah, it was nothing like that..”

She looked over at him then, interested in where his story was going and he hesitated. He’d never told anyone the story and didn’t think he ever would.

“Uhh,” he groaned, “Aight so.. I get there and you need a password to enter. She gives them the password. A curtain opens and we end up in a club only it’s naked people everywhere. I’m talking ass, tiddies, dingalings.. orgies in the open. I ain’t know where to look. I was confused like what the fuck this bitch brought me to? Had men and women staring at my ass. I felt threatened. She bought me a drink and told me to follow so I did. We went down a hall and I followed her into this red room… It was red lights… So, I’m looking around and it’s a lot of random shit..” He paused, the memories flooding his senses.

He could feel the leather whip in his hand, see her tremble, and hear her piercing scream. It terrified him the way she screamed, an ear shattering declaration of orgasmic pain. She had to explain it to him because he’d dropped the whip so fast, afraid that he was really hurting her. “Don’t stop,” she’d begged, “It hurts but it feels so good. I want this.” She coached him into another swing and then another. Then she showed him how she liked to be slapped, slapping herself. “Why you doing this shit to yourself,” he’d asked. Surely this need to abuse herself must have stemmed from a previous experience of abuse. He didn’t feel comfortable perpetuating the cycle. She needed therapy, not punishment. “It’s a kink,” she replied, “Why do people like to box or wrestle? I just like it. I can’t help it. I like this and I like you. I haven’t been abused or anything and I still respect myself just like I expect you to respect me. But this shit gets me wet when it’s done right.. and since you’re inexperienced, you have no bad habits to break. I see you, Erik.. and you’re a dom. It’s in the way you respect women. It’s in the way you carry yourself, you’re no nonsense. And you wanna slap me right now because I’m giving you permission. I trust you not to abuse my trust.”

When he smacked her, it had been a tap. She instructed him to hold her face if he was afraid, that way she wouldn’t get whiplash. Also, avoid hitting near her ear. It was solid advice and with her urging him on, he slapped her harder and harder, his heart dropping when she dropped her head, sobbing into her hands. “Shit, I’m sorry,” he panicked only for her to lift her face, laughing. From there, he listened when she told him to be rough. It became therapeutic and even freeing to be able to fuck as hard and rough as he wanted with no ‘stop’ or 'it’s too big’ or 'wait’. And then she graduated, moving away. He had to find a replacement. Going backwards to women afraid of dick wasn’t an option. No more breaking bitches in.. if she didn’t have a few bodies under her belt, she was off of his radar. His experience hadn’t been a peak into BDSM, he’d been thrust into it and once he understood it, it’d been exhilarating.

“I’m not trying to scare you or make you feel less of yourself with anything that I expose you to. I just want you to feel that same freedom I felt. Freedom to express yourself the way you want to. Freedom to express your sexuality. I want to take on all responsibility and consequences so that you don’t have to feel weird or guilty about anything you do or try. As your dom, I just want you to experience life the way you should without fear. I’m not holding anything over you. I might joke like that sometimes, but you know me. I’m not like that.. and if you’re ever really uncomfortable I want you to be honest enough to tell me.”

The car was silent, her hand in his on her lap. She had a look like she was taking it all in. So he just had to be patient. He closed his eyes, resting his head against the headrest and she spoke.

“Between what I heard, saw, and what I did in there.. I have a lot to digest. I’ve never been in a situation like that. This is all new. I knew this type of stuff could get real because of the nature of it, but the extent truly caught me off guard. And I didn’t expect to do what I did..”

You mean eat pussy, he thought. In the moment, he figured he was moving too fast with her, but the look in her eye said she wanted to try it, she was just caught up in the minutia of what’s socially and morally acceptable. Fear of judgement from others and from her herself. They were all excuses keeping her from experimenting with something new. He nodded, understanding her trepidation. He’d been there and could relate.

“I was surprised when you did jump in,” he says looking ahead through the windshield. “..But I didn’t mind it this time because you knew what you were getting into. No one was getting over on you.. And I had a say in how it happened. Guess that’s the difference between dealing with a sub and someone confused.” Shots fired at Shay. Y/N shook her head, a small smile showing against her will.

“You taste sweeter,” he offered, watching her reaction from the corner of his eye. Her lip twitched before she turned to face her window. With that, he put the key in the ignition and pulled off. She’d be okay. The drive would do her some good.

At his house, she went straight to sleep peacefully in the bedroom he’d given to her. Her face was expressionless, buried into the pillow, and her hair was pushed upward in a pineapple bush atop her head. He needed some good sleep like that...

When he left her room, he checked his second phone. He’d ignored a call almost an hour ago and he knew it was business. He went downstairs and out to the back where the hot tub was to return the call.

“Vidor, Texas,” Rell said and he knew that meant to meet him there. Another missing target had been located. White. Early 40s. Of course, he’d hide out in racist ass Texas, knowing someone was coming for him. Erik was convinced that none of the niggas he was paid to off could hide or lay low for shit. “Two days.. you gotta make it happen,” Rell continued.

“Bet,” Erik said hanging up. This time, he got to hunt and kill himself a white man. Apparently, there had been a military grade weapons trade gone awry with multiple deaths involved. Some other stuff he didn’t really care about as well. He’d make bank off the corpse, he just had to figure something to tell Y/N.. A reason to leave. If only he could take her with him.

—

Erik has to take you to work since you don’t have access to your car. His bedroom door is already wide open when you creep in to sit on the edge of his California king bed. The room is drafty and he’s shirtless, orderly keloids on display. He’s knocked out, asleep on his side, his large arms stretched out ahead of him as though he’s yearning for something and you briefly wonder what he could be dreaming about. His expression is peaceful, serene, with the exception of the occasional brow furrow. His lips though. Those beautiful full lips are pouted. His deep cupid’s bow is prominent, alluring even. It feels like a great shame to wake him and lose this moment, but you have to if you wanna get to work. Like a creep, you pull out your phone and snap a quick picture, putting it away. You place your hand on the blanket covering his side and move to his exposed shoulder, rubbing down his arm.

“Erik,” you whisper. He jumps, his arm jetting to grip your throat at breakneck speed. It takes a moment of struggling to try and pry his fat fingers from your larynx, before his eyes open and adjust, settling on your face. His arm drops as quickly as it raised and you rub your throat to soothe it, hoping there are no marks.

“FUCK. Y/N. Don’t scare me like that,” he croaks, letting his eyes fall back shut. His morning voice is sinful and you feel moisture forming down below. He drops his head back to his pillow, mumbling. “What’s up, you good? You hungry?”

“Huh? ..No, wake up!” You shake his arm when he won’t move. “I need a ride to work.” You’re already dressed and ready to walk out and he refuses to budge. “Erik! You have to take me… Come on. Please? Get up…” Still nothing.

You sit waiting for him to respond and after a few beats, he slowly drags himself upright, his eyes squinted. He’s still exhausted, poor baby. He looks so cranky now that he’s awake. It is super early afterall.. you have to be to work at 8:30 and the drive is longer from his house.

“Aight,” he croaks again wiping his face with his hand. “Gimme five minutes to brush my teeth and shit, I’ll take you.” His voice is super deep and velvety, filled with sleep and it’s really taking you over into wet panty land.

“You can shower though, it’s early enough,” you say eyeballing him with a raised brow and when he glances at the time on his phone, he nods.. a little more at ease. You wait downstairs. Breakfast seems like a great idea so you pull out his bullet blender and make a mixed berry yogurt smoothie that you split into two cups. He appears twenty minutes later in a bright red sweatsuit with Burberry London written on the white stripe going up each leg which matches his white Nikes. He looks like a whole dessert and there's that familiar smell. The mild and delicious scent of spiced musk. You could wrap yourself in it and call right back asleep if you had the time. There are no words from either of you, just a hard smack on your ass that makes you jump when he takes his smoothie, throwing back a third of it on the spot before heading to the coffee table for his keys. You follow him out silently as he swirls them on his thick finger, cup in his other hand. Down the walkway, and to his car, climbing into the passenger seat. The cup finds a new home in the cupholder. As soon as the car turns on, the noise does too. Gucci Mane is BLARING on the stereo, so you switch over to an alternative rock station with mellow 90s grunge rock since it's early. His eyes narrow so briefly that you almost miss it.

“I’ll humor you,” is all he says. Obviously he’s still exhausted because you know for a fact he’d typically fight you or just change the station.. but uncharacteristically, he leaves it there and he’s quiet, his eyes trained on the road. It’s concerning.

“You keep staring at me I’m a pull this car over,” he says blankly, voice still full of that deep bass and the threat is so like him, it must be his little way of assuring you that he’s okay without looking at you.

From this angle, his eyelashes are so long and you wonder why men always have the better eyelashes... You also wonder if he’d ever tell you if he weren’t oka– The car swerves suddenly making your heart drop and a horn beeps from the car behind you. You can your heart beating faster. Erik’s making his way to the side of the road and you realize he's 100% serious. What does he plan to do to you on the side of the road in morning traffic? You don't even want to know. Not today.

“Don’t pull over,” you slap his thigh, looking away from him quickly, “I wanna be on time.” With hesitation, he hops back in the right lane avoiding an exit that would’ve taken you out of the way.

“You gonna come back and eat lunch with me? You’ve never been to my job,” you remind him, one foot in the car and one on the pavement. You’ve never been to his either. You call him Tommy because he seems to be doing so well and you hang out with him a lot but you don’t know what his job is. You have no clue what he does for a living or how he can afford everything he has. He yawns, stretching.

“Mm.. I’ll swing by.. I gotta run some errands, but I’ll be here.”

“You need a nap!” You scold him and with an accusatory glare that says it’s your fault that he’s awake to begin with, he’s off. No goodbye or anything as you watch him zoom away. Yeah he's a little cranky.

The day moves slowly as you sit at your desk staring at your computer screen. The network seems to be running smoothly with no reported issues or disruptions, thankfully.. but Tanner is an idiot, you’re convinced. He’s somehow managed to jam the printer and delete an important file of documents. You clear the jam as he stands there gawking. No problem. As for his file.. He could’ve just dragged it from the trash. You told him this over the phone, but no, you had to come in person and fix it. He’s not even new! When you’re on his computer, you feel his gaze heavy on you and you look up to see that he’s staring at the side of your face like he’s analyzing it. Your face, your hair. Ignoring him, you stand ready to leave. It took all of ten seconds to retrieve the folder from the digital trash bin.

“Uh, Y/N... I was wondering if you’d… like to go for coffee later?”

“There’s coffee in the office kitchen, Tanner. I have a cup back at my desk.”

“Doesn’t have to be coffee, we could take a drive somewhere for lunch… Ernesto’s.”

“Sorry, I already made lunch plans with a friend.” His deep blue eyes widen at the last word and you don’t like the implication. Why does no one believe you have friends?! Rolling your eyes, you almost stomp back to your office but bump into Sherita, an older black woman.

“Y/N, it’s good I bumped into you,” she speaks slowly, “I have my nephew with me and I was hoping you could log him into a computer so he could play some little games or go to YouTube.”

“As long as he knows how to be responsible with his browsing,” you say leading them to the computer lab on a lower floor. You knew it’d be empty and there were cameras all around to keep an eye out for him. The boy was nine, he’d be okay on his own for a bit. “I’ll check on him from time to time,” you offer and she thanks you. Time ticks by so slowly. You sip at your coffee missing your Red Refresh tea. Maybe that’s why you’re so restless today... When your phone lights up around lunch, you all but run to the elevator to leave. You don’t want to run into anyone who will stop you. Outside, you expect to see Erik’s car pulled up and running, but it’s not there. A grip on your waist makes you jump and for a split second you fear it’s Flu before you hear Erik’s voice.

“You so antsy,” he teases poking you in various places to see if you’ll jump again. You do once but it’s because you don’t expect him to poke you in your stomach.

“I’m hungry! Stooop.” You block your stomach before he can poke at your chub again and he snatches his hand back before turning to walk away toward the end of the block.

“Shid, let me get on before you try to eat my ass.”

You answer with your middle finger, jogging lightly to catch up to his side. “I don’t eat assholes.” It works on two levels and he smirks.

“You’ll do whatever I tell you to do, angelcakes. I’m the boss.”

“And the moment you try to make me do that, I’ll quit.”

“It’s a good thing I wouldn’t ask you to do that. But either way, you ain’t going nowhere,” he smiles and you wonder if he's right.

“I’ll leave if I damn well please! What you think you can do about it?”

“Don’t matter... 'cause you ain’t going nowhere…,” he laughs.

"You so irritating.. Where are we walking to?"

He leads you down another block and across the street before turning right and you’re getting winded. He walks fast. “You the one work here, I’m just walking.”

“So you don’t have a place in mind and we just walking around for no reason,” you huff, breathless, trying to keep up with his strides while keeping the aggravation out of your voice. You fail on the latter.

“Yup, walking is good for you.”

Before you can cuss him out, he smiles and opens the door of a business. When you look it’s a small restaurant. It looks very new inside and you figure it’s some hipster spot with white college kids from the nearby university. You’re thrown when you see only black people behind the counter and mostly black customers. You follow him to a table and a young black guy with a fade comes immediately to take your drink orders. Erik asks for water and you get lemonade. The menu itself is decent, full of classic faves and desserts. He orders the house burger and you follow suit because it looks delicious.

“How you feeling,” he asks randomly, his eyes fixed on yours and you shrug.

“Good... You seem more awake, like you got some rest. I hope you did at least.”

“Gotta ask you something. I need a yes or no.”

Well damn, forget my topic then. Anxiety rises but you push it away. Any time someone says they need to ask you something instead of just asking, it’s typically something you don’t want them to ask.

“Shoot,” you say firmly as if you aren’t going through five potentially awkward conversations in your head right now.

“Relax," he murmurs raising his hand. "Wednesday I’m leaving town for a few days on business.. you wanna take off and come with or you can’t?”

Your first instinct is to say you can’t. It’s too short notice and you have to work. He seems indifferent so you wonder if you should just go ahead and decline.. but the fact that he even asked must mean he wants you to go. Did his other subs ever go with him on his business trips? You wonder.. Either way…

“Where are you going?”

“Does it matter? Free vacation. Yes or no, you know if you wanna go or not.”

“Nigga, don’t get smart with me,” you return his stare with equal attitude and his brow raises. Neither of you speak for about ten entire seconds until you decide you're ready to give your answer. “…Yes.”

“I bought the plane tickets already. Pack for three days when we get back to my place.”

“You can’t tell me where we’re going?”

“You’ll see.”

—

The Marriott Marquis Houston in Houston, Texas.. over an hour away from Vidor. Erik entered the room first dropping their bags and Y/N followed, throwing Erik a pointed look.. but what did she expect?

“Nigga… You could’ve gotten two beds..”

“I could’ve,” he said simply. But why would he do that? She rolled her eyes, toeing off her Adidas before diving onto the bed like a starfish. He fell backwards beside her, his body sinking into the comforter. When he opened his eyes, Y/N was gone. He looked around before grabbing his phone to call her. He’d been out cold for a good hour and a half.

“You would wake up as soon as I leave,” Y/N’s voice came in. There were noises in the background that sounded like voices. She was downstairs. “Stay put, I’m buying us food at Biggios. Do you feel more like an herbivore or a carnivore? I know you buff types can go either way.”

“I don’t work out to eat grass everyday. Carnivore,” he said heading to the toilet.

“Right, you work out to lift bitches. I totally get it- Wait, are you.. Ugh, are you peeing right now?!” The call ended and he chuckled to himself. When Y/N came back with the food and plastic utensils, he rooted through the bag for the receipt.

“Threw it away. I got you,” Y/N said peeping what he was on. It was a gesture he respected. His other subs wouldn’t have done it. Still though, in good conscience he couldn’t take her money. He waited until she was occupied with checking the orders to slip fifty into her Michelle Obama wallet.

—

“Game analytics,” was Erik’s response when you asked what his job was. It was such a straightforward answer that your jaw dropped. He rolled his eyes when you gasped. He was Tommy off of Martin no more! You finally had your answer and it made a lot of sense because you did see various game systems hooked up in his living room.

“Can I ride with you wherever you’re going,” you asked with your sweetest smile, the apples of your cheeks entering your line of vision.

“No,” he said lifting your chin, “I got something else I need you to do. Here’s my card… Go to the Galleria and ball out one good time.” Halfway out the door, he added, “New panties, new shoes, new clothes, new panties… I’m serious… Don’t get ugly shit,” he points toward your crotch and you’re offended. Since when has your style been ugly? Comfortable was a better term.

“Nah, matter fact, ask someone your own age in the store what to get or take a picture and send it to me before you buy it.. I don’t know when I’ll be back, but I’ll call.” He almost left before turning again to say, “I’m trusting you with my shit, don’t lose it.”

With that, he left you standing in a 4-star Texan hotel room alone with his credit card.

—

“You made it,” Rell greeted. They were in the parking lot of a redneck grocery. Erik grabbed Rell’s hand wrapping his other forearm around his back returning the greeting before dropping into the passenger seat of the car.

“Where did this car come from,” Erik asked as Rell sat parked. Mobb Deep hummed lowly on the system.

“It’s my job, I got my sources,” Rell sniffed with pride. Erik didn’t pursue it since Rell had never fumbled before. Rell was always dependable but if that were ever to change, Erik would be ready to handle the situation, whatever that meant. He looked through the window at the white people getting in and out of cars. They hadn’t really been noticed yet.

“You get anything from Sawyer?” Sawyer was the white boy they sent in as a mole to locate the target before they got there. Vidor was a small sundown town trying to change their rep, but moving very slowly.

“Pine Haven RV park.”

“Oh word, let’s bust him right now,” Erik sat up in his seat, but Rell hesitated.

“He’s not alone. He embedded himself into the community, they’d shoot for him. You got the whole trailer park to fight through.

"Shid, you got the bombs?”

Rell sucked his teeth. Of course he had the bombs, this was cracker country. Home of the clan.

“If you got the bombs and the guns, loaded and ready. You just get me close to that park and stay down."

"We need another white boy to drive us closer. What if they spot us coming?"

"We don't need shit else. What's my name?"

"Killmonger."

"I ain't get these marks for selling cookies... You just get me there and let me handle the rest."

#erik killmonger #original #erik killmonger imagine #erik stevens #killmonger #erik killmonger fanfiction #erik stevens au #erik killmonger x reader #erik x reader #erik stevens x reader #erik stevens x you #erik killmonger smut #killmonger smut #house rules

104 notes · View notes

aros001 · 3 years

Text

First time read through light novel vol. 15. Random thoughts.

No waiting! Door's open! Car's ready! Let's go!

Oh, and just as an added note, I have not yet watched any of the second half of season 2. I wanted to wait until after I'd read this volume, which I believe is the first time I've ever avoided watching episodes of a TV series so that I wouldn't be spoiled on what happens in the book it's based on.

The greatest asset they had—Garfiel—was almost certainly already engaging the main threat—Elsa. Both possessed superhuman strength, so they could be considered evenly matched—or at least, Subaru hoped so. He couldn’t be certain.

It does occur to me that Subaru probably wouldn't be the best for judging people's relative power levels. He's met plenty of powerful people in this world; Elsa, Reinhard, Puck, Julius, Petelgeuse, Roswaal, Garfiel, etc. But the thing is they all completely dwarf him in power, to the point that on an even playing field he wouldn't even be able to put up a fight. Yes, Garfiel could be an even match for Elsa...but I could also see Subaru thinking the same about Frederica and she was way outmatched by Elsa. All Subaru was going off of was that Frederica was stronger than him in a way he could never naturally obtain himself and so is Elsa, so he immediately conflates the two in his mind as equal strength, simply because he's so low all the bars above him look like they're overlapping.

“Truly...it would have been better if Betty were simply a book.”

Unable to indulge in even fleeting fantasy, Beatrice confessed her sad, painful wish.

If only she could be a doll without a heart, a storybook unshaken by the passage of time, then she wouldn’t have to suffer.

Ironically, though books themselves can't suffer, they can certainly cause suffering, both in the meta sense with what Re:Zero puts its characters through and the audience along with it, and the literal sense with how the books of knowledge and their prophecies are ruining Beatrice and Roswaal's lives but they can't bring themselves to give them up.

“Even if it’s only within Roswaal’s book of knowledge, the fact that Betty has been recorded... Does that mean Mother has not forgotten about her daughter, I wonder?”

Though there's something to be said about those who wrote the books too causing the suffering. Again, both meta and literal.

“O-of course I thought about it! Betty tried checking if there was anything on these blank pages again and again...but nothing ever changed!”

“That’s why you’re an idiot! What about trying to heat them to see if anything was written in invisible ink?! These days, no one falls for that trick anymore, even when it’s a novelty New Year’s card! Consider some more possibilities, would you?!”

...

“Like what if your mother messed up and gave you the wrong book by mistake?!”

“Huh...?”

The latest theory Subaru proposed was so haphazard that Beatrice didn’t even know how to respond. That surprise quickly gave way to anger as Beatrice’s ire only grew.

“Do you intend to insult Mother, I wonder?! Mother would never make such a stupid mista—”

“Can you say for sure it absolutely couldn’t happen? You don’t have even the slightest doubt? Are you so certain the only possible explanation is that your mother deliberately handed her own daughter a book with nothing but blank pages?”

Subaru used fallacies and questionable logic to massage and obfuscate the truth.

Subaru's become kind of an expert on dragging people down to his level, hasn't he? Rem, Roswaal, Emilia, Garfiel. Now Beatrice. Also, he just keeps digging himself deeper against Echidna. First he rejects her in favor of Satella, then vandalizes her tomb by carving love letters into its walls, then he makes out with Emilia inside her tomb, and now his basically insulting her intelligence to her daughter. If they ever meet again I suspect Echidna might just try and drown Subaru in her tea instead of offering him any.

“M-Mother surely would never make such a mistake. I-is that not obvious, I wonder? This is Mother we’re talking about! Would you doubt your own mother’s words?!”

“Of course I would! The times I can trust her don’t come along all that often! My mom’s the same person who heard a report about a satellite falling into ‘the atmosphere’ and somehow thought it was ‘Aichi Prefecture.’ I stopped believing any news that came from her mouth after that! It’d be mega-embarrassing if I spread around something that stupid again!”

It was impossible to forget how he’d been mocked by his classmates and neighbors for taking that story seriously and sharing it with everyone. To top it all off, the original culprit herself forgot she had started the whole thing and even asked him, Why on earth did you tell people that?

I kind of love this, especially after Subaru's trial showed just how loving, kind, and supportive Subaru's parents are. This series makes a point of saying that good doesn't mean perfect, and that's okay. People are naturally going to have flaws and shortcomings and that there's nothing wrong with that, so long as those flaws aren't toxic or harmful to others or themselves. Nothing about Subaru's mom being an idiot who too quickly buys into click-bait sensationalist news keeps her from being the woman who saw him off to school and was supportive even after his long absences.

Emilia's Unknowable Present trial, getting to live a life with Fortuna and Geuse like Pandora and Regulus never came to their village, reminds me a lot of what the Black Mercy plant showed Superman when it got attached him, namely getting to live a life in a world where Krypton never exploded and thus he was raised by his birth parents and even started a family himself on Krypton. The plant feeds you a hallucination of your heart's deepest desire as it in turn feeds on you, and the only way to escape it is to basically give up everything you've ever wanted. For Clark, that was his son, who was as real to him as his actual child could be.

Interestingly, though the story is similar with both Emilia and Superman rejecting the fake world in favor of the real one, the state they're left in afterwards is very different. For Emilia, her resolve is strengthened and her feelings for everyone still frozen have only grown deeper, while for Superman he flies into a rage at the villain who put him under the Black Mercy, and once that fades he's just left with sorrow over what he lost. I suppose a cause for big difference is that Emilia can, in theory, get back at least some of what she's lost. Not Fortuna and Geuse because, well, they're kind of dead, but the other villagers she can save from the ice. Emilia's escape from the fake world wasn't just accepting what she'd lost but also a push for her to stop hiding behind the protections of everyone in her life, including her own, and actually face the world. She has a goal she can work towards to find strength in. For Superman it was meant to be just a straight tragedy.

“—Why do you desire a future that will hurt you so much?”

“I don’t want to be hurt. I’m searching for a future where I don’t have to be hurt, where I don’t have to run, hide, or push things away, where I can hold hands with others.”

“And the wounds you suffer? The pain? What you have lost will never return. Will you search for such a thing even so?”

“ ___”

Even Emilia had thought of what it would be like to have no one think of her as detestable. Many times over, she’d wanted to cast all the pain and suffering by the wayside.

The earnestness in Archi’s words gently and deeply touched upon scars that covered Emilia’s weak heart.

“...I want people to think I look cool.”

...

“I want to be like Mom, who I look up to so much. I want to be gentle and strong, like Geuse. I want to be like Granny Tanse and the others, who were never mean to me even once. I want to be like Archi, who smiled to the very, very end so that I wouldn’t get scared.”

“___ ”

“I want to be like Puck, who kept protecting me so I wouldn’t be alone. I want to be like Ram, who wants to work harder than anyone else for the person she holds dearest. I want to be like Otto, doing his utmost for the sake of his friend. I want to be like Garfiel, who refuses to speak one timid word or complaint.”

“Emilia...”

“And I want to be like Subaru, who suffers and gets all beat up, who’s always reckless—who told me he loves me.”

I say it almost every volume but I'm loving the parallels between Emilia and Subaru. They don't want to be in pain, they don't want to suffer. They just want to be loved. They want to feel important and valued by those they love. They want to live up to the coolness and strength of everyone around them. Heck, Emilia seems to model herself after Fortuna about as much as Subaru seems to model himself after his dad. Both really are their parents' child (even if Fortuna is Emilia's aunt).

Even just her thanking Echidna like Subaru did for showing her the trial's world and giving her some closure she never could have had otherwise. Though Echidna's reaction is quite a bit more hostile than it was to Subaru.

The way to end the Trial was for Emilia to find herself and seek out a way to acknowledge, accept, and understand that self.

I'm curious if that is the general theme for the 2nd trial or if it's just specific to Emilia, because what we saw of Subaru's unknowable present, though he lost the right to face any more of the challenges, could certainly fit that description depending on how you view it. Emilia acknowledges, accepts, and understands herself by finally seeing herself as she is in the present and no longer turning away from her own reflection, while Subaru acknowledges, accepts, and understands himself by finally seeing the value in his own life beyond being a chip he can cash-in for RBD.

I am curious if there's any meaning to the differences in how Subaru and Emilia go through their trials though. Emilia's 2nd trial is like Subaru's 1st, where she's actually living and interacting with the world the trial created, with her memories of the real world needing to come back to her, while her 1st trial is like his 2nd, looking in on the world the trial creates only as an observer and unable to interact with anything.

Of course, it did not even think of defying the orders of its master. But it would obey those orders and nothing else. It simply owed a debt to the master, who had liberated it from the Curse of the Horn. Accordingly, it had listened to her request.

Hm. Now that's a curious bit of thought from the Giltirau. It's been established that demon beasts will obey whoever cuts off its horn. I'd always just assumed there was no choice in the matter. So is this just what the beast thinks is the case and it's deluding itself or under some kind of mind control, or is this genuinely how the beasts think and it obeys the cutter in order to pay them back for freeing them from the horn? If it's the latter, why is the horn a curse then?

“Eat the power of science, baby—Dust Explosion!”

Science, bitch!

The candle remained on the floor, showing no further sign of change. The one who had thrown it was frozen in place and sounded like there’d been a miscalculation.

Opp. Never mind. Subaru should have taken a lesson from Goblin Slayer. That man knows how to cause a dust explosion.

You know, one spoiler I got for this volume was that the mansion would catch on fire. I thought it'd be some way Subaru would be trying to free Beatrice from the library and the book of knowledge. I didn't think it'd be because of Otto accidentally burning the place down by using too much oil to kill a lion. Poor guy is going to be back to square one after this, if not horribly under debt. He only came along in the first place to try and sell his wares to Roswaal. If he burns down the clown's home he'll be lucky if Roswaal just declares them as even.

The Trials first showed a past linked to one’s greatest regret; then they showed a present that did not and could not exist; last, the challenger was shown a future she would inevitably have to confront head-on. These were the entirety of the Trials the tomb had prepared for her.

Yeah, I'm not going to lie, I couldn't make heads or tails of anything Emilia saw in "Face the calamity to come". I get the message and why she's able to pass but the descriptions were way too vague for me to get even hints of what was to come in this potential futures. Even looking it up didn't help much. All I've got for certain is Emilia telling someone she was once close to how much she hates them.

Of course, I am now wondering what Subaru's third trial would have been, had he not lost his qualification.

So the woman in the coffin looks like Echidna but isn't Echidna, at least from Emilia's POV. I've got three theories as to what that could mean:

This could be a case like how Satella and the Witch of Envy are technically two different people due to a split personality and thus Echidna and the Witch of Greed are two different people.

It is not Echidna's complete soul that was bound to the tomb. We know the soul transfer was an experiment that failed due to it not working out the way she wanted, so perhaps some parts of Echidna were lost in the transfer. Or we're going with Horcrux rules here and the Echidna in the trials is only a piece of her soul.

It was never Echidna who was giving the trials and having the tea parties but rather someone/something else assuming her form.

Then, as Emilia raced out of the tomb—

“—Eh?”

—the skin-stabbing cold and the ferociously blowing snow covering the Sanctuary made Emilia let out a white breath.

Aw, f**k.

“You ain’t immortal. It’s that ya won’t die till someone kills ya, right? Ain’t that right, vampire?”

“...You knew.”

“I had a hunch. Me, I loved readin’ books since waaaay back. I knew there were special sorts like that. Didn’t think I’d meet one right after leavin’ home, though.”

Oh! That explains a lot about Elsa, actually.

Elsa's story about growing up an orphan in the cold, being nearly (and thankfully only nearly) raped by a man she tried to rob, killing him and then finally feeling warmth from his blood and insides reminds me of a pitch I'd heard for a movie about Dracula's origins. After becoming the first vampire Dracula would take revenge on all those who had wrong him in his tortured life and the audience would feel sympathy for him...but only for a moment. Because whatever justice or righteous vengeance that might have been had is quickly overshadowed by the realization of the monster that has been unleashed upon the world.

“—I’m gonna kill ya, Elsa Gramhilde.”

“—It is because you will kill me that you are my first love, Garfiel Tinzel.”

Yeesh. They not on complete opposite ends of the spectrum but it's still hard to imagine a contrast more different than Elsa and Ram. Heck of a love triangle for Garfiel.

And of all the ways for Elsa to finally be slain, I can't say being crushed underneath a giant hippo thrown by a teenage man-tiger was one I expected.

“I’m impressed by how meticulous you are. How and when did you cast that spell on Lia...?”

“Spell...? Great Spirit, to what do you refer...?”

“Well, just listen. It got really hard to come out of my icon ever since we returned from the royal capital. If that was all, I would’ve pegged it as some kind of scheme by the Witch Cult group that attacked the village and the mansion, but I was stuck in there even after reaching the Sanctuary. So the spell had to come not from an enemy but from one of our own.”

...

“Fortunately, Lady Emilia was in low spirits from her argument with young Subaru. A little sabotage of your pact with Lady Emilia before departing for the Sanctuary was a trifling affair.”

“On the other hand, a pact between spirit and spirit mage is sacred... It’s not something that can be toyed with from the outside.”

“Even so, I have lived with Beatrice for quite a long time, you seeee. For better or worse, creating loopholes in predetermined things is a specialty of mine—though that girl is too obstinate for such things.”

Okay then. So while Puck definitely isn't a good father overall, it actually wasn't that he was refusing to come out when Emilia needed him. Roswaal used a spell to make sure that he couldn't, which makes sense given his big scheme, shown in a past loop, was to isolate Emilia from everyone and break her mentally.

“Love me? What are you saying?! You hate me. I am the man you hate. To you, I am a man linked to the cause of your homeland’s destruction. Surely, the truth is that you hate me enough to kill me!”

“In the beginning, it was so, but now it is not. Now Ram loves you.”

“That is absurd...! Who—who, I ask, would believe in such cheap emotions?!”

I'm not quite sure how to feel about this, and it's not because of any shipping reasons because I don't really have anyone I ship with Ram. Obviously I knew she had an attraction, I'm just wondering what it was that caused the change in Ram's feelings and what caused her to fall in love. With Subaru for Emilia and Rem for him we see how those feelings were sparked and even Garfiel for Ram has reasons that are simple attraction but easy enough to understand. So what was it for Ram?

“To Ram, this is...the root of all evil.”

Roswaal’s face went pale as he raced over to Ram. Smiling faintly at his action, Ram did not hesitate—she hurled the book of knowledge into the green flame still clinging to a fallen tree.

Sometimes the conditions for victory have little to do with actually winning the physical fight.

“No matter how far you go, you’re still human—you’ll never be like that devil.”

As the spirit flew off, his voice became distant, and his presence vanished, leaving behind only a soft glow.

What remained was the scattering snow and a girl carried by a devil—Nay, there was only a clown.

He was a wretched fool who had tried to become a devil and failed.

That is a really good line. I'm assuming the devil in question is Hector, given he's called the Devil of Melancholy. It is an interesting concept, trying to act like/resemble something you fear and horribly humbled you in the past.

“I won’t let anyone say it’s fine. As long as we’re alive, there’ll be none of this it’s fine stuff—that’s why I don’t want to give up on anyone, not anymore!”

She stood up. That instant, Emilia whirled around, thrusting her arm toward the forest behind her.

She froze to the bone the demon beast leaping toward her, enveloping it in blustering snow and glacial cold.

The creature she had caught was white, small enough to fit in her palm.

However, this was a ferocious being with gleaming red eyes.

—It had arrived. The demon beast known as the Great Rabbit had finally come.

Well....that definitely qualifies as a badass moment for Emilia. I remember when I first started reading the LNs I was worried I might have an unintentional bias against Emilia since, while I liked her fine in the anime, I liked Rem and her pairing with Subaru a lot more. Thankfully the books have really done a great job with Emilia, especially in her character development. I said back during the royal selection that LN Emilia definitely feels like she has more fire to her than her anime counterpart, at least in season 1. I don't think I ever would have expected her to yell at Roswaal the way she does here, and with it still being in character as she's doing it because she's worried about him and Ram.

Puck was a Great Spirit with origins identical to Beatrice’s. However, unlike how she lived according to the will of Echidna the Witch since days long past, he had started a new life long before the birth of the Sanctuary, and she had not seen him since.

Does that mean Puck has a witch as his "mother" too?

But what she found surprising was that he knew of Beatrice’s talents yet did not desire them in any way. Indeed, when he came to ask about curses, it was Beatrice, and not the archive of forbidden books, he came to consult.

The boy harbored no interest in the knowledge left in her care or Beatrice’s power whatsoever.

It's kind of funny how Subaru's ignorance and cluelessness have been both his greatest strength and biggest shortcoming since coming to this world. It wasn't even a thought in his head to consult the books for answers to his problems...probably in part to the fact that Subaru can't read this world's language. His logic was more than likely "Books might have the answer to my problem Beatrice has read a bunch of books. I should ask Beatrice for help!"

—She felt like she had reduced herself to a frivolous and very cheap clown.

Roswaal: "Achoo!"

For as Subaru ran through the inferno, swearing he would bring the girl with him, he was enveloped by an incredibly dense black miasma, almost like a cloak of shadow that shielded him.

Is this because of the Unseen Hands witch factor he got from killing Petelgeuse? Because the black miasma instantly make me think what happens when he tries to tell people about RBD and thus makes me think it's some protection the Witch of Envy is giving him.

A figure dressed in black emerged from the flames: a black-haired woman holding a black blade in her hand.

“Elsa...?”

OH COME ON!

“You’re not Elsa anymore, are you?”

When Subaru posed the question, Elsa—nay, the thing that had been Elsa—turned its empty black eyes toward him. There was no glint of life within them, only bottomless darkness. Subaru was peering into an abyss.

An empty body, a departed soul, and obsession incarnate. Driven by inexhaustible bloodlust, it dragged its smashed lower body along as it crawled toward Subaru through the raging fires.

This was far beyond an unnatural vitality that kept death at bay. The power had become nothing but a curse.

Just like Subaru’s Return by Death, it was nothing save a curse, a yoke placed upon her very life.

I've said it before, I like that dark magic in Re:Zero's world isn't just "spooky evil bad stuff" magic but rather DARK magic. Unnaturally and feels like it should not exist in the world. Elsa's a vampire but usually being a vampire in most stories tends to just equate to drinking blood, strong, and being hard to kill. Here, being a vampire makes Elsa truly seem like some unholy monster. Something truly undead. She's not a vampire because she was bitten by Dracula but rather she's a vampire in that she's a curse upon the world.

I really like how Subaru finally wins Beatrice over, and it's consistent with how he typically tends to make progress, by just being honest with people. He knows Beatrice doesn't need him and that he doesn't have anything to really offer her. So he simply tells her that he needs her and that he wants her around. He could lie or assume and just say he's the person she's waited 400 years for, but instead his words put the choice more in her hands. He's not going to set her free, she has to choose that freedom for herself.

Also, if Subaru's lifespan is just a blip in comparison to hers, what does Beatrice have to lose? If it's a waste of time, well then it's basically just a minute of her time being wasted, all things considered.

“—You wanted someone to take you outside! Isn’t that why you always sat in front of the door?!”

With a decisive sound, that world finally met its end.

The girl’s lonely cage, that solitary world known as the archive of forbidden books, was engulfed by flames and vanished.

But just before that happened, there was a sound.

—The sound of a single tome falling to the archive’s floor.

I HAVE WAITED SO LONG FOR THIS MOMENT!!!

—So began the pair’s first battle, one of the many, many times Beatrice the spirit and her contractor, Subaru Natsuki, would fight hand in hand.

I'm just imagining Subaru shoving Beatrice into Julius' face to brag about her.

Subaru: "You can keep your six little spirits, Julius! I got the best one of all right here!"

Beatrice: "Kindly keep Betty out of this dong measuring contest."

Once they gather the Great Rabbit's copies all in one place I thought they were going to either burn or freeze them all, but sending the Great Rabbit into another dimension was probably the better idea. If Beatrice's theory is right and the rabbit can only create a finite number of itself, even if it can spawn up to that number and infinite amount of times, then even if they failed to get all the copies, say one or two, then the remaining ones would be far less dangerous, since it can't spawn new copies as they all would still technically exist.

“I think you should say something to the one who worked the hardest.”

Subaru couldn’t help but give a short sigh when he saw her childish, cheek-puffing gesture. Then—

“Waaah!”

—sweeping an arm under her, he hoisted up her light body.

Ignoring her cutesy, plaintive cry, Subaru continued to embrace the girl as he twirled around on the spot.

“You did awesome! That’s my Beako! I love you!”

“W-wait a—! That’s not... W-would you let go, I wonder?! Betty is not...!”

“Good girl, good girl! You’re so, so cute! You’re wonderful, Beako! You’re the best, Beako! Beako forever!”

Aww. Subaru's such a good dad.

Given that Roswaal is indeed the original Roswaal, student of Echidna, having lived on into the present day by transferring his soul into the bodies of those in his direct family line, what age is the child when he transfers his soul into them? Is that like a Tanya situation, where Roswaal remembers everything from his old life but has to restart each time as a baby? Or is this like a rite of passage for the men in Roswaal's line and they take on the burden of the original's soul once they come of a certain age? It's difficult to say which is worse.

“It’s just—I think we need to have a proper talk about the baby in my belly!”

“...Excuse me?”

“I don’t know if it will be a boy or a girl, but we need to give it all the love and attention it needs! Still, I don’t know anything about these things... That’s why I have to discuss it with the child’s father...”

...

“Emilia-tan, you know babies aren’t delivered by birds or harvested from cabbage patches, right?”

“But babies are made when a man and a woman kiss, aren’t they?”

...

Given Emilia’s mindset at the moment, Subaru’s words were tantamount to saying he wanted to have lots and lots of children with her. Certainly, there was a part of him that did wish for that, but his top priority was setting Emilia straight.

“C-curse you, Puck...!!”

Subaru directed an angry murmur toward the absent kitty spirit, who continued to sleep deep inside the magic crystal.

—In the back of his mind, he felt like he could see the kitty spirit putting a paw on his head and sticking his tongue out with a thbpttt.

That is just bad parenting right there. Even if Emilia's mentally 14 her body is still physically 18 and would be dealing with at least the aftermath of puberty, if not puberty itself. Regardless of whether she should or shouldn't have sex it's still something she should know about, especially in a world like Re:Zero's where life expectancy probably isn't that high and thus it'd be more common for people to get married and have children at younger ages than in ours.

Also, I'm just kind of amused that in Rising of the Shield Hero, Raphtalia thinking pregnancy was caused by kissing was an anime-only thing, as in the LNs she was well aware of what sex was. Now I'm just going to be expecting Re:Zero to do the opposite and have anime Emilia know what sex is.

“Even if you’re not at full health, you just stood back and watched while people settled things with Roswaal. I was sure you’d flip out seeing him get smacked around that much.”

“What a foolish thing to say... Even Ram does not think Master Roswaal is someone who is never mistaken. If being punched is the natural course of events, he must accept what he deserves. But Ram is free to treat him with great gentleness after the fact. To not comprehend such a thing is the height of foolishness.”

Well, at least Ram's not blind to Roswaal's faults or unreasonably loyal.

“...This is your mother, right?”

“More importantly, this is Echidna, Subaru. Not the ‘Witch of Greed’ you are familiar with.”

Subaru echoed a question first hailed by Emilia, wondering about the two different Echidnas. At present, neither she nor Subaru had found a suitable answer to what that actually meant.

More fuel to the first two theories I had.

So the condition of Subaru's pact with Beatrice is that he can't form contracts with other spirits, and she used up all the mana she had stored up over 400 years to kill the Great Rabbit, meaning she can't do anything like their big battle again. Subaru's gate is completely collapsed, meaning he can't use magic at all, and just keeping Beatrice out during the day consumes all the mana he has. ...Fair enough. It does fit with how Subaru wins each arc, by drawing every sword he has to use and just barely winning despite what he loses in the process. Heck, he still is somewhat in the green here with what he's gained, given he has Garfiel on his side now. And I still feel like Subaru is going to brag about Beatrice to Julius. It also goes along with Beatrice's thoughts of how she and Subaru interacted in arc 2 anyway. He wasn't there for the knowledge or power in her possession. He came there simply for Beatrice. Everything from their pact to her knowledge and powers was simply an afterthought, if even a thought in his head to begin with.

“Emilia—I am your knight and yours alone.”

“—Yes.”

When Emilia responded to the words he spoke, an irresistible wave of emotions brought tears to her eyes.

Yet, even then, Emilia somehow managed to maintain her composure as she gently brought down the sword she had raised. She returned to Subaru, who continued to kneel, the symbol of a knight’s pride.

Reverently accepting it with both hands, he returned the sword to its scabbard.

Completing the ritual, Subaru looked up. With Emilia nodding in assent, he stood on the spot.

And then—

“Emilia-tan, it’s a bit late to mention this, but you look cute and superhot in that outfit.”

“Idiot.”

—with the solemn atmosphere of the ceremony shattered, Emilia stuck out her tongue at him with a reddened face.

My feelings for the Subarem ship haven't lessened but this arc has definitely raised the Subamilia ship up for me, and I didn't even dislike it before. I really did just need them to communicate and have more honest back and forths and this arc really managed to develop that nicely for them. I can buy that these are two people who will eventually have a romantic relationship.

“Mentally speaking, Anne and Emilia are not as far apart as some might think. If anything, Anne puts on greater airs than Lady Emilia. She might very well be the more mature of the two.”

“I’m still holding a grudge against her for planting the idea in Emilia-tan’s head that babies are made by kissing.”

Yeah, I'm still gonna blame Puck for not setting her straight on that.

“And now that you have rejected the path of the Sage and chosen the path of the Fool, I will never allow you to compromise. Is this not natural? It is you who wished for this.”

With Subaru unable to speak a word, Roswaal took a step forward, closing the distance between them. Then, reaching out with a hand, he grasped Subaru’s shoulder, gently pulled his face close, and whispered into Subaru’s ear.

“—Hereafter, if you lose someone around you who you should have protected, I will swiftly burn the remaining others away without hesitation and, with the cursed seal, become ash myself.”

“—?!”

“You have decided to shoulder all. You must not abandon anything. I will not allow a lost world to continue into the future. I reject your compromise—now that I have lost the book of knowledge, I have only you to guide me to Teacher, young Subaru. You and the path you walk.”

Jeez, Roswaal is such a good villain. Yes, he'll work with the hero and he'll do it willingly and genuinely...but that doesn't make him any less dangerous than before. If Subaru falters or fails, Roswaal will push him into using RBD to do things over. And there's little doubt he will, since we've seen him in a few loops already in this arc perfectly content with dying or throwing everything and everyone away when a plan didn't work out, either because he knew Subaru would loop and another life would be better...or simply because continuing on in a world where his plan failed wouldn't be worth anything. It's a good little wrench to throw into the story now that Subaru is going to try to rely on RBD less, and it's a good way of showing Roswaal has not magically changed 100% from who he's been throughout the story and that even bound by a curse he can still do a lot of damage.

The girl walked forward, her long pink hair swaying as she murmured to herself.

The Witch had been released unto the world once more.

...That's probably not good. If I'm reading this right, Echidna, or at least the not-Echidna of the tomb trials, has come back from the dead by way of soul-transfer into the body of one of the Ryuzus.

I cannot state enough how happy I am for this volume to come out and for this arc, that I did really enjoy, to come to an end. Not only was I not letting myself watch the anime until I got this but I wasn't going to let myself start on the web novels either until I finished reading this arc in the LNs. Since vol. 16 doesn't come out until the near end of June and there's no f**king way I'm waiting that long again, I think at some point I'll just start on arc 5 in the WNs and go all the way until wherever it is in the present because I NEED TO KNOW!!! Might even do random thoughts on both the WNs and LNs, which would be kind of interesting. The only comparisons I've been able to do before is the LNs to the anime. I've heard the LNs are pretty faithful to the WNs but I have heard of some differences, like Puck not being in the battle between Ram and Roswaal (and just Puck being a bit more of a prick in general in the WNs).

Original Reddit post: https://www.reddit.com/r/Re_Zero/comments/m64crq/novels_first_time_read_through_light_novel_vol_15/

#re:zero #random thoughts #reddit repost

1 note · View note

mbtizone · 7 years

Text

Megara (Hercules): ISTP

Dominant Introverted Thinking [Ti]: Meg has a quick wit, which she frequently uses to insult those around her. She’s logical, independent, and doesn’t rely on anyone to save her. When she first meets Hercules, she believes she can deal with Nessus on her own, telling him that she’s capable of handling the situation herself. She has confidence in her ability to come up with solutions to her problems without any help. Meg prefers to remain detached and doesn’t want to grow too close to Hercules. She’s clever and comes up with several ways to manipulate Hercules (claiming that she has “weak ankles” as a segue to get Hercules to open up about his own weaknesses). Meg is cynical, snarky, and believes that it’s best to isolate herself so that nobody can hurt her.

Auxiliary Extroverted Sensing [Se]: It’s easy for Meg to use what is immediately available to her accomplish a task. She manipulates Hercules using her sexuality. When Hades tasks Meg with finding out his weakness, she does so by persuading him to play hooky with her and shows him a fun-filled day. Though it’s never stated, one might infer that Meg purposely tripped down the steps in order to start a conversation with Hercules about weaknesses because she was trying to get him to admit his. Meg is comfortable in risky situations and can make shortsighted decisions without considering the ramifications when presented with an opportunity (selling her soul to Hades in exchange for her boyfriend’s life). She’s quick to leap into action (hopping onto Pegasus to get Phil in order to save Hercules, even though she’s terrified of heights). She also notices the pillar about to fall and crush Hercules and is able to push him out of the way in the nick of time, saving his life.

Tertiary Introverted Intuition [Ni]: Meg is driven by one goal – work off her debt and eventually be free from Hades forever. She experiences flashes of insight – she can tell relatively quickly that Hercules isn’t like everybody else and believes in him. Meg is good at knowing how to manipulate people and instinctively knows which buttons to push. Once Meg falls for Hercules, she becomes determined to protect him from Hades, regardless of the consequences. Meg appears to believe in universal truths about the world and humanity (everyone is petty and dishonest).

Inferior Extroverted Feeling [Fe]: Admitting her feelings doesn’t come easily for Meg. Instead, she keeps them hidden and denies the truth. Although she was working with Hades to obtain her freedom, in the end, she sacrifices herself to save Hercules. Meg is willing to make selfless choices for those she loves – she’s only a slave to Hades because she sold her soul to him in an attempt to save her boyfriend’s life. Although Meg doesn’t lead with her emotions, she is able to tap into them, as she puts on quite a performance for Hercules in order to convince him to come save the two little boys (Pain and Panic), who were supposedly trapped as a result of a rock slide.

Enneagram: 6w5 8w7 4w5 Sp/Sx

Quotes:

Hercules: Pardon me, my good, uh… uh… sir. I’ll have to ask you to release that young – Megara: Keep movin’, junior. Hercules: — lady. But you… are-aren’t you… a damsel in distress? Megara: I’m a damsel. I’m in distress. I can handle this. Have a nice day.

Megara: Megara. My friends call me Meg, or at least they would if I had any friends. So… did they give you a name along with all those rippling pectorials? Hercules: Uh, I’m, uh, um- Megara: Are you always this articulate? Hercules: Hercules. My… My name is Hercules. Megara: Hercules, huh? I think I prefer Wonderboy. Hercules: So, uh, how-how-how’d you get mixed up with the, uh- Megara: Pinhead with hooves? [Hercules nods] Well, you know how men are. They think “no” means “yes” and “get lost” means “take me, I’m yours”. Don’t worry, Shorty here can explain it to ya later. Well, thanks for everything, Herc. It’s been a real slice. [She starts to walk away.] Hercules: Wait! [She stops and turns.] Um… can we give you a ride? [Pegasus snorts, whinnies and flies to a high branch.] Megara: Uh… I don’t think your pinto likes me very much. Hercules: Pegasus? Oh, no, don’t be silly! He’d be more than happy to- Ow. [PEGASUS has dropped an apple on Hercules’ head. He looks up and Pegasus whistles innocently.] Megara: I’ll be alright. I’m a big, tough girl. I can tie my own sandals and everything. [She walks away again.] Bye-bye, Wonderboy.

Megara: Please! Help! Please! There’s been a terrible accident! Hercules: Meg? Phil: Speakin’ of disasters. Megara: Wonderboy! Hercules, thank goodness! Hercules: Wha-what’s wrong? Megara: Outside of town, two little boys, they were playing in the gorge. There was this rock slide, a terrible rock slide! They’re trapped! Hercules: Kids? Trapped? Phil! Phil, this is great! Megara: You’re really choked up about this, aren’t ya?

Megara: Looks like your game is over- Wonderboy’s hitting every curve you throw at him. Hades: Oh, yeah… I wonder if maybe I haven’t been throwing the right curves at him, Meg, my sweet. Megara: Don’t even go there. Hades: See, he’s gotta have a weakness, because everybody’s got a weakness, I mean for Pandora, it was the box thing, for the Trojans, hey, they bet on the wrong horse, okay? We simply need to find out Wonderboy’s. Megara: I’ve done my part. Get your little imps- Hades: They couldn’t handle him as a baby. I need someone who can … handle him as a man. Megara: Hey, I’ve sworn off man-handling. Hades: Well, you know, that’s good, because that’s what got you into this jam in the first place, isn’t it? You sold your soul to me to save your boyfriend’s life. And how does this creep thank you? By running off with some babe. He hurt you real bad, didn’t he, Meg? Huh? Megara: Look, I learned my lesson, okay? Hades: Which is exactly why I got a feelin’ you’re gonna leap at my new offer. You give me the key to bringing down Wonderbreath and I give you the thing that you crave most in the entire cosmos! Your freedom.

Megara: Let’s see … what could be behind curtain number one? [She pulls the cord on the side and we see Hercules behind the curtain.] Hercules: Meg! Megara: It’s alright. The sea of raging hormones has ebbed. Hercules: Gee, i-i-it’s great to see you. I-I-I missed you. Megara: [Flopping down onto a couch] So this is what heroes do on their days off? Hercules: Ah… I’m no hero… Megara: Sure ya are. Everybody in Greece thinks you’re the greatest thing since they put the pocket in pita. Hercules: I know, it’s-it’s crazy, y’know, I can’t go anywhere without being mobbed, I mean- Megara: Ah. You sound like you could use a day off. Think your nanny goat would go berserk if you played hooky this afternoon? Hercules: Oh, gee. I-I don’t know. Phil’s got the rest of the day pretty much booked- Megara: Ah, Phil-schmill. Just follow me- out the window, round the dumbbells, you lift up the back wall and we’re gone.

Hercules: I didn’t know playing hooky could be so much fun. Megara: Yeah. Neither did I. Hercules: Thanks, Meg. Megara: Oh… don’t thank me just yet. Oh! [She falls into HERCULES’ arms.] Hercules: Oops- careful. Megara: Sorry. Weak ankles. Hercules: Oh yeah? Well maybe you’d better sit down. [He carries her over to a bench, puts her down, then sits down beside her.] Megara: So… uh… do you have any problems with things like this? [She stretches out her leg and holds her foot right in front of his face.] Hercules: Uh… Megara: Weak ankles, I mean. Hercules: Oh. Uh, no. Not really. Megara: [Moving closer to him] No weaknesses whatsoever? No trick knee? Hercules: Uh… Megara: Ruptured… disks? Hercules: No. I’m… I’m afraid I’m uh… fit as a fiddle. [He stands.] Megara: [sighs] Wonderboy, you are perfect. Hercules: Thanks.

Megara: If there’s a prize for rotten judgement, I guess I’ve already won that No man is worth the aggravation That’s ancient history, been there, done that

Megara: No chance no way I won’t say it, no no It’s too cliche I won’t say I’m in love

Megara: I thought my heart had learned its lesson It feels so good when you start out My head is screaming “Get a grip girl Unless you’re dying to cry your heart out

Megara: No chance no way I won’t say it, no no This scene won’t play I won’t say I’m in love You’re way off base I won’t say it At least out loud I won’t say I’m in love

Hades: I’m sorry… you hear that sound? That’s the sound on your freedom fluttering out the window… forever. Megara: I don’t care. I’m not gonna help you hurt him. Hades: I can’t believe you’re getting so worked up about some… guy. Megara: This one is different. He’s honest, and – and he’s sweet- Hades: Please. Megara: He would never do anything to hurt me. Hades: He’s a guy! Megara: Besides, oh Oneness, you can’t beat him. He has no weaknesses. He’s gonna — Hades: I think he does, Meg. I truly think… he does.

Megara: Hercules! Look out! [She pushes him out of the way, but the pillar falls on her instead.] Hercules: Meg! NO! What’s happening? Megara: H-Hades’ deal is broken. He promised I wouldn’t get hurt. Hercules: Meg. Why- why did you… you didn’t have to- Megara: Oh, people always do crazy things… when they’re in love. Hercules: Oh… Meg. Meg, I- I… Megara: Are you… always this articulate? You- you haven’t got much time. You can still stop Hades.

Megara (Hercules): ISTP was originally published on MBTI Zone

#Hercules #Megara #ISTP #enneagram 6 #Type 6 #disney mbti #6w5 8w7 4w5 #Sp/Sx #mbti #mbti types #mbti personality types #fictionalcharactermbti #fictionmbti #movie mbti #enneagram #enneatypes #enneagram type

19 notes · View notes

chillydayzgaming-blog · 7 years

Text

Borderlands

Ever wanted a million guns? How about 17.75 million guns ripe for the taking? Guns that'll melt your enemy's faces off, burn them alive, make them scream for their mothers as they experience more than 1.21 gigawatts of electricity coursing through their veins? Then Gearbox Software has a game for you. Released in 2009, Borderlands is a loot based FPS with RPG style skill perks and classes. Four characters to choose from: Sarcastic marksman Mordecai, over enthusiastic brick shithouse named appropriately enough Brick, femme fatale reality shifting Siren named Lilith and finally the impromptu leader of the bunch Roland. He's the big black guy with a turret. Between it's respawning enemies who exist to drop loot and it's wonderful space western setting Borderlands became a cult classic that enjoyed more fanfare over time, gaining traction as an alternative to standard shooters of the time. The first time I recall hearing about the game was from an article talking about Ice T playing it himself. A glowing recommendation from him and it being cheap used at GameStop ensured that I would pick it up. Showing it off to my friends we soon began to play it together, eventually I picked up the GoTY edition, getting all the DLCs that I hadn't yet grabbed anyway, but by that time I was in my third play through of the game. The game working off of a cyclical new game plus mode allows for the player to replay it over again if they wish, with additional difficulty added to the game. To offset that the loot gets better too, so yay, more farming. My fondest memories of Borderlands was starting up the game, putting on some Cage the Elephant and just going to town on the final difficulty. The first area, the Arid Badlands, is a blast. Classic space western fare: Hostile bandits, crazy alien animals to shoot and plenty of loot chests to open up. Learning about all the hidden boxes, running a circuit of slaughter and chilling out to a great band is phenomenal fun. Strongly suggest it as a cathartic method to relax. Surprisingly enough I actually enjoyed classic Borderlands' bare bones story. That doesn't mean it was fantastic, it was cut down from the early ideas for the final release. Essentially the story boils down to there being a vault full of loot, you know, the stuff you've been collecting all the while? But that in a way is a wonderful subversion of what we expect. We expect the McGuffin of the story to bring us what we want, when at it's heart it is meant to only play the role of a desired thing. Be it a princess in yet another fucking castle, big black books filled with Eldritch knowledge or in Borderlands case a vault full of loot. But, spoiler alert, it isn't. It's full of tentacle monster guy. You've seen enough hentai to know where this is going. So you trampled across the East coast of a forsaken continent on a largely abandoned planet just to have to fight a roughly four story interdimensional monster hell-bent on diddling you with his tentacles. Bet you feel used huh? But, really, didn't you have fun along the way? The NPCs are pretty entertaining without being overbearing, dry wit in ample supply in addition to the clear cut quests. I feel as though the vault's true purpose was to show us what we want more than anything in the game, and that's more challenges to overcome. We the players would find it boring if the PCs ended the game with an unending pile of loot, we want to keep up the lootfest ourselves. So after you beat the end boss, who was admittedly pretty easy, you get the opportunity to begin again, but stronger this time. There's a bit of side mentions of cyclical time to help handwave this, which I appreciate, separates it from most other games in that regard. At it's heart the game did have issues with it's writing however. While I did enjoy the more serious tone of the game the slight lean towards humor was very fitting for it, dark humor injected here and there helps to keep it from being too dry. But it felt like a tipsy guy trying to keep his composure, giggling to himself one minute and standing stone faced the next. This was later "fixed" via the DLCs and sequels, going from leaning towards humor to diving headfirst into it. But that left the first game in an awkward position, it's pretty light story doesn't nearly compare to later games in the series. However what was in the game was fairly well done, I'm judging it by it's initial release, not taking the DLCs into account. The main character's lacked good insights into them as people, perhaps to help us associate with them better, but when it comes to a story I want to know how a character reacts, feels about their world. For what it is I have to give the game a 15/20 in the story/concept category. Excellent loot based FPS, subpar story but cool world. Borderlands thrives on it's FPS mechanics. Wonderful gunplay, metric fucktons of guns to utilize and useful character perks to utilize. Want to turn a hawk into an AC-130? You can do that. Shift through reality while running like Speedy Gonzales? Yeah, kinda. Punch shit like, really really hard? Brick shithouse at your service. Ammo spewing, ally healing and bone hurting bullet shooting turret? You'll be making people go owie pretty fast. Along the way you'll gain a bunch of passive and activated abilities too, which are a staple of any perk based game nowadays. Come to think of it Skyrim has perk trees that kinda remind me of Borderlands, would be interesting if it was partially inspired to do so by the surprise hit. Anyway, gotta give the game.e a high five for it's system, it works fantastically. As it's a loot based FPS, you have a backpack that slowly gets upgraded over time. Which is great because after a certain point you end up drowning in grenade mods, shields and weapons after wading through a dungeon. Ooh, speaking of I should expand those things. First off we have those lovely modifiers for your grenades, teleporting, sticky, you name it. Hell, the healing ones are my favorite, a plethora of devastating health sucking good vibes at your fingertips. Your shields are like a secondary health bar that refill over time on their own, plus cool side effects to give you little bonuses. Stuff like resistance to elemental attacks, faster recharging or beyond average shield count. Borderlands' dungeons are some of the most fun I've had in a while. Not too big, ripe with hostiles and loot, perfect for an hour of stomping through with friends. Of course where Borderlands truly shines is in it's open air bandit camps. As I said before I adore the starting area, the Arid Badlands, it's handful of Skag dens and Bandit camps are some of the best fun I've ever had grinding. To me it's not even grinding, it's cathartic ass kicking. Anyway, you get a lot if dusty places to kill stuff in, plus some mountainous places later on. Overall it's world design is quite beautiful, can't really fault it beyond any spots you can get stuck in. Overall it's gameplay and mechanics earn it a solid 20/20, the little things like weapon skill building over time, class variation and just simple dumb fun in it's dungeon diving makes it a near perfect game to pop in and just tear shit up with your friends. Onto Graphics and art style. Borderlands utilizes a cell shaded design that's iconic and quite easy to recognize. Rocks pop out at you, enemies stand out amongst the backdrop and the equipment is well understood from afar. Just enough detail without it being too attention grabbing. Character designs are a bit exaggerated, but that's to be expected really. I can't fault the game for having generic visuals in terms of NPCs and the world, at the same time it also benefits from my soft spot for space westerns. So unlike a lot of shooters it gets a nice noon in the form of it's iconic style, which really helped to set it apart. Ironically it was to be more realistic, but midway through production they changed that. For the better I say. The graphics, for it's time, were/are wonderful. I say are because, well, they still look pretty good. Might not stand up to say... the sequels, but that's just due to higher resolution over time. All in all I believe it has solid graphical quality, no faults to be seen from my 100+ hours of gameplay. So to grade it on it's visuals I'd give it a 20/20, started a series strong with it's unique design, strong visuals and charming atmosphere. Space Western game's gotta have a twangy soundtrack yeah? This one does, plus some haunting tunes as well. While the gun sounds are a bit soft for me the music, both the OST and the choices for opening and ending tracks, are are superb. Opening up with Ain't No Rest For the Wicked by Cage the elephant (my favorite band) and ending with No Heaven by DJ Champion the game uses it's music to help set the mood. You aren't good guys, you are shades of anti-heroes that are on the planet of Pandora to kick ass and get loot. The reasons vary but in general you're gonna spend most of your time shooting native wildlife and locals in the face. A lot. Not much else to comment on, 15/20 in that regard. Just needs stronger sound effects. Plus more PC interaction, but that's more writing than anything else. Enjoy shooting shit? Looting shit? Then Borderlands is the game for you. Easily 30+ hours of shooting and looting, multiple playthroughs and a never-ending stream of baddies to torment even if you do "beat" the game. Not that you ever really do beat it, it's one of those games that you can keep playing forever really. And you know what? I really enjoy that. I see replayability being from two things: wanting to experience the game more/again or seeing how you can do things differently. Myself, I change very little across playthroughs, but I LOVE to feel those events again. If not for the story than for the sheer... wonder or excitement of the events. The first few nights in Minecraft, the end of a dungeon in Skyrim that deposits you at a vista and in this case just the thrill of stomping through dungeons that I've cleared dozens of times before. I can honestly play the same zone in this game for hours. For that reason I have to award it a 20/20 for longevity, just slip the disc in and keep enjoying the gift that keeps on giving. There is very little that I would change about the game, it's a bloody masterpiece as is really. But as I've said before it's lacking in the story department. Having the characters have more shit to say, either due to quests or at each other as they're out and about. Better sense of group cohesion is what I want, to feel that these guys are a group of fire forged friends out looting the countryside together. Plus expand in their back stories, have audio logs like future games had to help explain them a bit more, perhaps a personal quest or two. Hell, have their personalities and backgrounds come out via their dialogue with each other and NPCs, just enough to help us get them better without it being too distracting. Metal Gear Solid V: the Phantom Pain did this quite well, since Snake was meant to be more of a silent protagonist he had more personification via cassette tapes. Perhaps expand on the PCs via that sorta mechanic? Oh, and better SFX, guns and such. Just make it more visceral sounding, that feeling you get when you pop a bandit's head with a satisfying headshot... Enhanced with proper bullet sounds. This game helped bring back loot based games. Be they FPS, dungeon crawlers or whatever, it helped show that a non mainstream game could as much ass or even more ass as the same major releases of that year. It's art style, iconic. The atmosphere and tone, simply a pure mixture of light-hearted romp with violent lootfest. Gunplay that is up there with some of the best shooters. Very few things to complain about, it's a game you and your buddies should buy used and just pop it in to play all weekend. Gold star game overall, 90/100. Very few can match it in sheer fun, that's without taking DLCs into account.

#borderlands #video games #games #review #gearbox #Chilly Dayz #Chilly Dayz here #xbox 360 #classic

1 note · View note

inktae · 7 years

Text

liebesleid (m) · two

↳ ongoing miniseries | request: reincarnation au with yoongi. (—or a story of perpetual unrequited love.)

◇ pairing: yoongi | reader ◇ genre: a lot of angst and drama with a sprinkle of smut. ◇ word count: 7.669 ◇ warnings: alcohol mention.

⇢ chapters: one | two

Chapter two: espressivo.

Most of the lifetimes in your mind are blurry — but the one you can remember the most happened during the summer of 1840.

The images are sharp and vibrant as they flicker wildly inside your mind, like an opened pandora box that keeps bursting with stinging lights and thick shadows and too many memories. They do not stop, and suddenly you feel like too many people at once, merging under your skin and turning your gaze dark and your breaths heavy.

It takes you a few seconds to realize Yoongi is calling your name. The real Yoongi, the one who stands next to you as he finishes his second cigarette and glances at you with bright, curious eyes. He seems to notice your panicked expression right away, and you can only circle his wrist weakly with a trembling hand, noticing he’s too hot under your touch. Or maybe you are just too cold.

You ask him to call you a taxi, and he complies after he makes sure you are not about to faint.

“The food—” you offer quickly, trying to inhale enough air for your straining lungs. “Didn’t sit well on my stomach. It’s okay, I just need to go home—”

“Don’t worry,” he gives you a reassuring smile as he places the phone against his ear, and the blush of embarrassment inevitably rises to your cheeks. Going by the dizzying memories that are still dashing through your mind, you are entirely sure he doesn’t remember anything from the past. He never does — which means he probably thinks you are just a bit strange.

Doesn’t he always, though?

Yoongi calls a cab, and his hand lingers on your back as he continues to make sure you are fully conscious. There is cold sweat coating your hands and forehead, your lips are dry and cracked and your stance is so stiff you probably look like you’re trying not to vomit — and fuck, Yoongi is way too gentle for handling a stranger like this, so carefully and thoughtfully, as if his own body remembers yours even if his mind doesn’t.

His touch feels like fire even if it’s as tender as a feather grazing your skin. It doesn’t take you long to realize how much you truly missed it, and you didn't think the dread pulsing through your veins could get worse. A knot ties itself painfully in the pit of your stomach and you are suddenly trembling with the need to get away, to be alone and process everything — without the worried touch on your back and the silent but careful gaze on the side of your face.

Then the taxi arrives and the hasty goodbye you throw Yoongi can definitely be considered rude, especially after the man helped you in his own half inebriated, half heartbroken state. You only dare glance at him through the window when you’re fully seated, and your heart shrinks when you see him standing there, waving with those soft eyes and with that gaze that still brims with confusion and fascination.

The silence is more than welcome, though. The taxi finally leaves and you immediately get lost in your swamped thoughts, in the images and dialogues and stares that repeat themselves over and over. Showing you countless truths that feel scarily natural on the tip of your tongue.

It always starts the same way, you realize. You can’t recall how many lifetimes you’ve crossed paths with Min Yoongi — what you can recall, though, is that every time you find him with a broken heart. Every time, he finds a friend in you, a shoulder to lean on and genuine, caring support. You always heal his wounds even if your heart breaks in the process, and then destiny does its part and takes him away from you.

Leaning your forehead against the cold window, you can only snort humorlessly. Reincarnating with him would lead anyone to think you were soulmates, two humans meant to be together as they found each other and fell in love again and again.

Not getting your heart broken over and over.

Not helping him find the love of his life over and over, while you stood in the sideline. Always silent, always hiding everything behind a smile—

One that he never noticed was full of pain.

“Wild night?”

Leaning against the counter, you look up from the steaming cup of coffee that’s placed between your hands, dazed eyes connecting with wide awake ones. Your roommate is giving you a bright smile as she enters the kitchen, one that’s too lively for the rising dawn; and even if you’ve known her for more than seven years, the energy that brims out of her right after waking up is still thoroughly startling.

Irene has always been a morning person. The smile you give her is more somber than intended as those words unravel a new meaning, and you can’t help but stare at your best friend in a new light, one that’s not related with lighthearted memories anymore.

Irene has always been a morning person — and that trait never changed in all of your past lives. Just like Yoongi, she never realizes her own reincarnations, and the fact that you are the only one aware of the past you all share is bitterly ironic in your mind.

The hunches you get before remembering are unexpectedly different in each lifetime, and this time you never suspected one of most important people in your life right now — the girl that’s currently sighing loudly, muttering about her tight schedule as she starts rummaging through the kitchen cabinets. The striking realization that her destiny is also tangled with Yoongi’s is still making your mind swim, even if you should be used to it by now.

Noticing your strange stillness and the lack of chatter on your part, she turns to you with a box of cereal in her hand, her usually soft expression transforming into something more serious.

“Did something happen yesterday?”

“No,” you reply, too quickly, and it is ridiculous to think you could fool Irene, of all people. Even if she loathes any kind of confrontation, she never hesitates to push the truth out of you whenever you mood turns gloomy and quiet.

She purses her lips, eyes hesitant as she frets on the spot. “Don’t worry me,” she says, softer this time as she places the box on top of the marble countertop. “I know you didn’t want to attend that event. I wish I’d gone with you—”

“Hey, you had to study, it’s fine,” you wave your hand as you give her a reassuring smile, hoping it works this time. “It was okay. Just draining.”

She observes you for a few seconds before nodding, apparently convinced by your answer. You try to hide your relieved exhale as she continues to prepare her breakfast, and your eyes settle on your cup of coffee again, gaze turning numb as you lick your dried lips.

“Ren,” you call gently after a minute of comfortable silence. “Do you know Min Yoongi?”

The strident clunk of her spoon hitting the floor reverberates across the narrow space of the kitchen. She quickly picks it up and your eyes swiftly notice her stiff movements, as if she’s trying to contain her reaction with a hesitance that cannot be considered natural. Turning around, her eyes trace your face and struggle to connect with yours.

“What? huh?”

“I met him yesterday night, at the event. He’s Seokjin’s ex roommate,” you clear your throat, almost choking on the suddenly heavy atmosphere. It always feels painstakingly awkward, you realize — even in the past, the mention of Min Yoongi in front of Irene electrified the atmosphere, through gazes that expressed more than words and flushed cheeks and clammy hands. “Is he your piano teacher?”

With most of your memories back, it didn’t take you long to put two and two together. Just like yours, Irene’s destiny is also tightly laced with Yoongi’s, and she’s meant to meet him in one way or another. Before yesterday night, you never thought much of your best friend’s random decision to take piano lessons — never gave her a second glance whenever she came back home more flustered than usual, with dazed eyes and a silly smile across her face. You teased her lightly, asked through inevitable chuckles if she was crushing on her teacher, of all people. Then Irene would squeak a rapid no way and then she’d change the topic, so smoothly she barely allowed you to prod more.

“What— how—” she blinks, confused, then a nervous laugh slips past her lips. “How did you know? Did he… tell you about me?”

“No,” you bite your lip, already regretting the way his name rolled off your tongue so easily. You barely got your memories yesterday — you should have allowed yourself a few more days to keep processing everything. But the need to know where Irene and Yoongi stand together is too powerful, even if your chest is already in pain. “But I saw him playing the piano, and I just… had a hunch.”

“That’s weird, even for you, Y/N,” she tries to joke, smile tight and voice too high to be natural. Her face is gradually reddening, clearly jittery as her gaze continues to veer between your own passive expression and her unfinished breakfast.

“Sorry,” you try to laugh, but the sound is rough and strained. Irene seems too flustered to notice, pouring the milk onto her cereal with faintly trembling hands. Her expressions are more familiar than usual now, having seen them more times than a normal human should. Her eyes are clearly flooded with tension and something more — something that looks like sorrow, the kind of lost pain you are too familiar with. It is that of a broken heart.

You exhale, pursing your lips in frustration. You could recite hers and Yoongi’s story in your sleep, which never changes no matter how many centuries pass by. In every lifetime, they both ache for each other — small, flimsy misunderstandings that lead them both to believe their love is purely unrequited, that their hearts don’t actually belong together.

Irene has always been too soft spoken, after all. Her gaze is fragile and so is her heart, and when it comes to romance her mind turns blank and her insides quiver, with fear and hesitance and too much insecurity. Yoongi, always the passionate and daring man, never knows how to deal with her need to take things slow, securely — with a carefulness that would drive anyone up the wall. He never understands the feelings Irene tries to pour thinly through her shy facade, and takes it as a subtle rejection instead.

Here is where your role comes to play. As cruel as it is, destiny chose you as their mediator, the chain that secures every lifetime and the bridge forged between their paths.

Lifetimes of observing them has made you know them better than you know yourself, and every time it turns easier for you to bring them together, as it always should be. That does not mean it hurts less, though — and how can you stay numb through it all, when your heart not only belongs to Yoongi, but also brims with love for the sister you never had? Irene has stayed as your friend through thick and thin, a fundamental pillar in all of your lives and someone who also shows the utmost appreciation for you, whom she regards just as warmly.

It never hurts less. Even if you are used to the pain, it feels new in every life, a different kind of sting that pulses at the back of your mind. But the new pain never dwindles your resolve, which has stayed tight and firm after so many years.

After all, you love them both, and they love each other. You cannot stop intervening, because that would mean snatching away the happy ending they always deserve. And even if you are not part of it, even if you’ve never felt that warm feeling cursing through your veins — seeing them smile has become your own particular ending, as bittersweet as it is.

And nothing tells you it will end differently this time.

“You got here way too early.”

“Good morning to you too,” you smile as you cross the threshold of Seokjin’s flat, ignoring his scoff while he closes the door. Turning to him, his eyes land on the book you’re holding against your chest, making his lips purse and showing clear distress.

You can’t contain a soft chuckle when you notice his tousled brown hair and the rumpled gym wear that covers his large body. His face is slightly flushed and his eyes are blinking slowly, as if he’s holding back the urge to take a quick nap on the couch.

“Morning jog?” you ask, remembering he likes to run on Saturday mornings. You start walking towards the living room and he follows, heaving a sigh behind you. It comes out long and tired, and a sudden strike of guilt creeps up your back before you can stop it.

“Yeah, got home fifteen minutes ago,” he grunts, stretching his arms above his head as you flop down on top of one of his black leather couches. He joins you quietly, caressing the back of his neck tiredly as you place your book above the nearest coffee table.

You bite your lip, not looking at his fatigued face. “I mean, if you really don’t want to—”

“No, no, it’s fine,” he assures you hurriedly, sighing again. “It’s the first time you ask for my help, I wouldn’t deny you that.”

“You just want to look good in front of my parents,” you say lightly, opening the book.

“Got me.”

You both share a quiet chuckle, lightening the atmosphere almost immediately. The guilt is still there, though, coiling in the pit of your stomach and turning your movements steely while Seokjin switches the conversation to the subject at hand. You’re sure Seokjin does not mind lending you a hand when it comes to school — but you are not sure if you crossed a line the moment you decided to use that help dishonestly.

It’s not easy to pretend you have zero clue about the subject, which is probably one of the easiest of the semester, but Seokjin seems too pleased to help to notice your awkward, trembly words. Too eager, you’d say — because forty minutes later your temples are pulsing and you’re sitting on the floor pitifully, messy paper sheets surrounding your limp figure as Seokjin makes you work on a chapter you haven’t even started yet.

“Can we take a break?” you ask in a weak tone, looking up at him pleadingly. He’s still sitting on the couch, thoroughly unfazed as he glances down at your drained expression.

“Sure,” he replies cheerfully, starting to pick up the scribbled papers from the floor. “We can stop for five minutes. You’re much rustier than I thought, Y/N.”

You let your head drop down, whining as your forehead touches the cool surface of the table.

“Or we can stop altogether if you tell me what you’re really here for.”

You perk up at that, heart skipping a beat as you slowly lift your head. Your throat constricts at Seokjin’s sharp expression and — yeah. You were too much of a fool to think this could actually work.

“You tutored me for almost an hour even though you knew?”

He shrugs, smiling placidly. “You looked like your soul was slowly leaving you. It was worth it.”

“I should let your bosses know you’re torturing their daughter,” you counter freely, knowing Seokjin won’t take your words seriously. He laughs in a light tone before his expression softens into something less sharp and mocking, a hint of seriousness clouding his eyes.

“Come on, sit here and tell me what’s going on.”

Seokjin’s expectant eyes follow your movements as you sit on the couch again, nerves finally sinking in. You know you did not deal with this in the best way possible — it should not be so important for you to keep such secrecy, to use the pretext of needing a tutoring lesson to slip the words as casually as possible. Seokjin probably thinks it’s a serious matter now, and even if it is important for you, it will only increase a raging suspicion in him.

“It’s not a big deal, really,” you finally mumble, hands stiff on your lap. “It was dumb of me not to ask you straight away.”

“Spill.”

You huff at him, crossing your arms above your chest. “I just— I am… kind of curious about your ex roommate—”

“I knew it!” he shrieks, making you jump on the spot. “You were also hoping to find him here, weren’t you?”

Your face burns with a heated blush at that, lips pursed. “That’s not—”

“The way you two played the piano the other night…” his voice comes out gentle, too quiet, and it makes you stare at him with your heart lodged in your throat. “This might sound weird, but it looked like you already knew him. Is there... something going on?”

He’s giving you an unrecognizable stare — one that’s intense and serious as he observes your reaction closely, and you have to push down the need to bolt out of the room. Your skin burns and your mind reels at how obvious you are, something that has not changed after so many lifetimes. Even if you’ve put all of your efforts into hiding your own feelings, there is always something in the way you look and talk to Yoongi that makes people wonder, that shifts the air weakly but surely, baring the faintest hint of your unrelenting emotions to the rest of the world.

You can only be glad that Irene and Yoongi are always too lost in their own heartsickness to notice your own.

“No,” you retort, too smoothly. It is not exactly a lie — you’ve only met him once in this lifetime, after all. “I am interested in his music.”

“You want get to know him, don’t you?”

The answer is too obvious, and Seokjin probably wants to make sure you are not blatantly lying to his face anymore. You resign yourself and nod slowly, fingers digging into the cool surface of the couch.

He exhales, leaning back and staring at a faraway point with the faintest grimace on his lips.

“Y/N… he’s, very lost right now, and so in love, and just… not in the best place right now.”

You look away from his face, biting your lip. That you already knew, but Seokjin shouldn’t see how familiar you are with those words.

“Do you know who he’s in love with?”

Even if you already know the answer to that question, the curiosity gets the better of you, and you flinch the second the words are out. But the need to find out how much Seokjin knows is too strong to quench down — he was Yoongi’s roommate, after all. He knows the Yoongi of this lifetime much better than you do, even if you’ve met countless versions of him already.

He gives you a weird look at that, frowning. “No, I don’t. What kind of question is that?”

You shrug, not knowing how to answer to that.

“Don’t get in the middle of it, Y/N—”

“Wasn’t planning on it,” you choke out, heart racing. “I’m curious about him, that’s all. I’m curious about all pianists, didn’t you know?”

He snorts. He has always known about your deep interest in music and how drawn you are to those who express their art freely, even if it is a topic that’s not touched as much as you’d like. You can’t blame him, though — not when it is directly related to the tension that’s always stirring within your family, and you’re aware of how awkward he gets when a subject enters personal territory.

“Yeah, yeah. An artist soul needs to connect with other artists, and all that,” he says jokingly, but his words make you brighten up. “Promise me you’ll keep it about music.”

“Sure, dad.”

He shudders at that, making a giggle escape your lips. It immediately softens the atmosphere, though, and both of you share quiet smiles before he gets up from the couch and stretches lazily.

“A couple of coworkers are going to this small gig Yoongi has tonight. They can take you there,” he offers casually, ignoring the eager look on your face as you nod rapidly. “I’ll give him your number. Well… you should leave now, I’ve been dying to take a shower since I got home drenched in sweat.”

“Gross,” you laugh, getting up and picking up your things. He accompanies you to the door in silence, and the abrupt quietness makes you hold onto the book a little bit tighter, hoping the conversation about Yoongi won’t stay in his mind for too long. Even though it felt liberating, now you can’t help but trace back and make sure you didn’t say too much, that your eyes or your body language didn’t show more than necessary.

Seokjin squeezes your shoulder to make you snap back to reality. You give him an apologetic smile when you notice the door’s already open, and he’s waiting for you to say goodbye.

“Ah…” it is strange to find yourself at a loss for words in front of someone like Seokjin, whom you consider one of your closest friends within your small social circle. But here you are, stuttering and blushing again and you are not sure where is this reaction coming from — except you do have a faint idea, and it makes you recoil even more, eyes suddenly wide and watery.

He squeezes your shoulder again, gaze warm and thoughtful. It’s a stare you’ve seen a handful of times, present during pressing events and meetings, always there whenever your future inside the company shifts a little bit closer and you feel like you’re drowning under the deep sea.

“Be careful.”

You’re not sure what he means with those words, but you can only nod helplessly, lungs asking for fresh air as you force a strained smile and mutter a quick goodbye.

Seokjin’s friends are called Kim Taehyung and Park Jimin, and their presence is so bright you can feel your implacable nerves simmering down. You can’t help but wonder how you never met them before — even though you’ve been at the company three or four times, they exude waves of charisma that would never go unnoticed, all sparkling eyes and radiant smiles that make you feel at ease right away.

You meet them after sunset in front of an inconspicuous bar, small and subtle and located in a narrow street full of jazz clubs. Jimin’s eagerness seems subdued in front of Taehyung, who addresses himself as Min Yoongi’s number one fan as they enter the poorly lit place.

“He’s just so— I can’t describe it. You have to see it for yourself,” Taehyung gushes as they walk towards a rounded table, one that’s particularly close to the narrow stage. Jimin snorts at Taehyung’s words, even though a fond smile is stretching his lips.

“You sound like his proud girlfriend.”

“I wasn’t the one who cried during his last performance,” Taehyung retorts with a mocking smile, making Jimin blush profusely. The latter immediately turns to you, embarrassment clinging to his awkward smile.

“How do you know Yoongi, Y/N?”

“Oh — through Seokjin,” you try to say casually, even though your voice comes out slightly high pitched. “I heard him play once. He’s good.”

Your tone is way too disinterested, making you wince. You can’t let your feelings and memories get the better of you, though — not right now. Taehyung opens his mouth, a retort probably forming on the tip of his tongue, but then a waitress arrives and the topic changes to that of alcoholic drinks. They order without having to think twice about it, seemingly familiar with the place, and you allow Jimin to decide for you as he goes for a sweet, albeit slightly strong drink.

“You don’t have to study tomorrow, right?” Jimin asks worriedly the second the waitress leaves, making Taehyung chuckle.

“Are you planning on getting me drunk?” you laugh, trying not to get too nervous. You certainly do not want to be tipsy in front of Yoongi, not when your newly found feelings are still stirring and shifting. It has only been a couple of days since Seokjin’s event, after all.

“Of course not. You’re our future boss, after all!” Taehyung exclaims and you can only blink at him, trying not to show the sudden nausea that makes your stomach swirl. But then Jimin giggles and you can’t help but smile — he might be older than you, but the sound of his laughter is bright and innocent and immediately eases the sudden tension in your shoulders.

Chatter flows seamlessly after your drinks arrive, and the liquid does burn down your throat, dangerously sweet as it slowly unwinds your muscles. You welcome the distraction Jimin and Taehyung provide, and by the time they announce the concerts for the night you're relaxed enough for your heart rate to stay within the normal range.

There are three acts, and Yoongi is third in line. The first performance is a short jazz piece by a clearly skilled saxophone player, and Taehyung and Jimin sway excitedly on their chairs as the rhythmic melody fills the hazy room. The second involves a few more instruments, playing a sultry piece that smoothly mixes the sounds of the double bass, the trumpet and the trombone in a slow melody that keeps you tapping your feet against the floor. By the time they’re done, you’re already starting to feel the music inside your bones, head light and smile genuine as you join the rest of the audience in rounds of applause.

Time seems to slow down as Yoongi takes the stage a minute later, dressed in black from head to toe and dark hair neat and soft-looking. His eyes barely swipe over the audience, looking deeply concentrated already as he focuses on the large piano placed on the right side of the stage.

“Ready to cry, Jiminnie?” Taehyung’s whisper take you out of your daze. Jimin only shushes him in return, cheeks flaming. You can also feel your own face heating up, even if it’s for entirely different reasons.

Yoongi’s music is always an experience, and you are not expecting this time to be different. Even if his style varies in each lifetime, it is always raw and poignant, with each note clutching at your heart in a way that’s stinging but addicting all the same. Looking at Yoongi approaching the piano, you can feel your breathing speeding up with anticipation and your pulse growing stronger against your chest and ears.

He bows to the crowd, and takes a seat. The applause and the chatter dies down almost immediately as he places his hands above the keys, and the lights around you seem even darker, if possible. All you can see now is the stage, the glossy piano and his straight back and closed off expression. Inhaling deeply, he lets out a long, silent breath, and then his fingers finally press down.

You almost jolt in the spot. You were expecting a brush of tender notes, a soft wave carrying faint melancholy and gentle sorrow; not the fierce, rapid melody that stems from his deft fingers. It is powerful and overflowing, bursting with emotions that keep you on the edge of your seat, completely entranced as you stare at the blur of hands that follow a fast paced tempo.

Sometimes it’s angry, sometimes it’s heavily mournful and sometimes it slows down to a quiet tune, as if his own heart is resting temporarily from its passionate outbreak, before picking up again and stealing your breath away. It’s a song you haven’t heard before, and that turns it even more enthralling, making you wonder what his fingers will do next as the music whirls across the entire room.

The passion in his face widens as the song reaches its climax, thunderous and striking as his eyes close and his body sways gently. By the time he’s done, your chest feels tight and you can hear your own heartbeat pulsing behind your ears. Your skin burns as the crowd applauds fervently, and you join them in a dazed state of mind, faintly detecting Taehyung’s hooting and Jimin’s encouraging whistle.

“Fucking amazing!” Taehyung screeches, still clapping in earnest even though the applause is starting to fade away. You have to take a sip of your cold drink, still feeling hot all over.

“Y/N, I saw your face while you watched. That wasn’t just good, right?” Taehyung says, patting your back as he gives you a teasing smile. You shudder at his words (you don’t want to know what kind of faces you make while watching a performance from Yoongi), but still manage to smile awkwardly, a nervous laugh slipping past your lips.

“That was… yeah. Wow,” the boys just laugh at your lack of words, and you can’t help but join them, feeling slightly dizzy after that emotional rollercoaster.

“He should be here in a second, by the way,” Jimin adds casually, turning around to look in the direction of the bar counter. That makes you freeze — even though you were silently hoping to share a few words with him, the fact that it’s actually happening right now makes you wonder if you are actually ready. You almost threw up on his shoes the last time you saw him, after all.

Jimin waves then, and you’re sure he must’ve found Yoongi with his eyes, making your heart stutter. You stare at your own drink as you wonder how you should act in front of him — it’s a bizarre sensation, that of knowing him so well but not knowing anything at all. In some ways, Min Yoongi is still a stranger, a new and undiscovered version of him even if you’re familiar with all the layers he hides inside.

You squirm in your chair and take a long sip of your drink, for once welcoming the burn that slides down your throat. But then a throaty voice joins the table and you almost choke on the liquid, eyes filling with unshed tears at the tightness in your throat as you place your glass down.

“Yoongi,” Taehyung gets up, placing his hands on Yoongi’s shoulders. The latter’s holding a beer bottle, looking impassive albeit his eyes shine with faint amusement. “If I was drunk, I would probably bow down right now. That was— that was insane!”

“Thanks,” he chuckles sheepishly, peeling Taehyung’s hands off his black shirt.

“I agree, that was so good. Is it a new song?” Jimin asks, looking a little starstruck as he stares up with shiny eyes. Yoongi nods as he takes the empty seat next to yours, eyes finally finding your own and making you inhale sharply.

“Oh yeah, Y/N decided to join us tonight! you guys know each other, right?” Taehyung’s voice is cheery but faraway in your ears. Yoongi smiles widely as he nods again, eyes sparkling while he takes a sip of his beer. His eyes never leave yours.

“We met during one of Seokjin’s parties,” he says, finally tearing his gaze away and allowing you to breathe again.

“Huh? I thought you didn’t go to those,” Jimin wonders confusedly, grimacing. “God knows I won’t go as long as Seokjin himself doesn’t drag me.”

“I don’t. It was an accident,” Yoongi replies plainly. The other two men don’t even prod, Taehyung’s laugh joining in as he tries to speak through his chuckles.

“Of course you wouldn’t go again. You got so wasted last year, it was embarrassing—”

Jimin blushes hotly, and suddenly they start bickering in a way that keeps your eyes sliding left and right, helplessly trying to follow their rapid conversation. Yoongi chuckles softly, making you turn to him as you hold your drink tightly.

“Will they be fine?”

“Don’t worry about them,” Yoongi waves his hand in disinterest as a smirk lifts his mouth. “They do that everyday. Hey—” he leans closer to the table, fingers touching the brim of his beer bottle as he casts his eyes down. “You left quite spooked the other day. Is everything alright?”

“Yeah! It’s all good,” you muster a bright smile, one that probably doesn’t reach your eyes. “Sorry about that. Just got a bit sick.”

He nods, taking a sip from his bottle. “I think I know where I’ve seen you.”

Your heart jumps at that, mouth dry as he gives you an intent stare. “Really?”

“Yeah, I actually went to Jin’s workplace once. It makes sense, doesn’t it?”

He seems fully convinced by his own answer, seemingly satisfied that he figured it out. You can’t hold back the drop of your stomach, churning with disappointment. A small part of you forlornly hoped he remembered something — and as delusional as that might make you, it’s a flicker of hope you have never been able to blow out, still stirring with the prospect of not being the only one with these memories one day.

“I barely go there, but... ” you swallow, still noticing his steady gaze on you. You give him another smile, hoping it’s not as bitter. “Yeah, maybe that’s it.”

He smiles back, making him look brighter and younger, and for a flicker of a second you notice how different he is from your past lives, gaze tracing the bags under his eyes and the lack of a healthy blush across his skin. You notice his tired eyes and fatigued stance and you have to contain yourself from asking him if he’s been eating well, if his thoughts keep him awake at night or if he finds the loneliness more stifling than usual.

Suddenly overcome with concern and fondness, you thoroughly welcome Taehyung’s booming voice calling you into their conversation, making you avert your eyes from Yoongi’s particularly intense stare and snapping back into reality. It’s easy to distract yourself when it comes to Taehyung and Jimin’s enthusiastic voices, and Yoongi’s presence flies to the back of your mind in a way that allows you to breathe easier and not to squirm under his unyielding, always piercing stare.

Soon enough you’re finishing your drinks and moving onto another bar, and then another, and another. As the drinks seep through your veins you find it easier to stick to Yoongi’s side, arms brushing and laughs mixing together in a way that keeps you much warmer than the alcohol ever could. You instinctively keep Yoongi from drinking too much — wordlessly slowing down his drinks when his face turns flushed and words become slurred, even if your own cheeks are burning and your thoughts are drifting away more than usual.

Time loses its meaning as the hours slip like sand between your fingers, and you don’t realize how late it is until you find yourself under the luminous night sky as Jimin calls a taxi. Yoongi’s swaying slightly next to you, eyes unfocused as he basks in the cool air, and you don’t hesitate as you call another taxi for you both.

“I’ll make sure he gets home,” you assure a worried looking Jimin, who’s squirming under Taehyung’s heavy weight as he starts falling asleep on top of the shorter man. Both taxis arrive a few minutes later, and Taehyung gives you a boxy grin and a noisy kiss on your cheek, making you laugh as he moves on to pat Yoongi’s back.

“That was fun! Make sure he doesn’t die,” Taehyung reminds you, words loud and slurred. Jimin tugs him towards the taxi and you do the same with Yoongi, who waves lazily at the other two before entering the car.

He lets out a loud sigh after you both share your addresses with the driver, dropping back against the headrest as his head tilts in your direction. A sudden wave of intimacy warms up the cramped space, and you can’t help but shiver as his eyes trace your features. The daze of the alcohol is high enough to keep you from looking away, heart gradually speeding up as the seconds slow down.

He finally opens his mouth, gaze still unwavering. “Wanna come up?”

You stiffen at that, chest constricting. Enough lifetimes have gone by to know for certain that there are only platonic feelings on his side, that his intentions are never something more even if the alcohol turns his gaze and words bolder than usual. It still takes you aback, though, and you hate the warmth you feel at the prospect of spending more time with Yoongi.

It’s hard to control your feelings like this — with the daze of a fresh, quiet night as dawn approaches, tearing your walls down as his quiet company reminds you of how comfortable you feel next to him, how natural it is to exchange glances and smiles and meaningless conversations.

He’s drunk. You will only make sure he goes to bed safely.

It is not hard to convince yourself with your words. You nod and Yoongi smiles, so soft and radiant, and any doubt that was nudging at the back of your mind finally vanishes.

Deep breaths.

Your exhale is loud and long in the middle of the kitchen, shaky and weak as you try to control your trembling limbs. You excused yourself five minutes ago, and Yoongi is probably wondering why it’s taking you so long to grab a couple glasses of water — or maybe not, considering his currently helpless state. The faint drunkenness you were feeling is starting to fade and it only leaves an overwhelming feeling in its place, reminding you that you’re here, in Yoongi’s tiny apartment, that you left him sprawled out on the couch with that gentle gaze that reminds you of the endless smiles and stares that were left in the past.

You frown at the glasses of water, realizing it’s taking you particularly long to compose yourself in this lifetime. Inhaling sharply, you force yourself to leave the kitchen, trying to suppress your feelings as you remind yourself that this is bound to happen — you need to be Yoongi’s friend. It is set in stone. You can’t avoid it, even if it hurts.

The fake smile plastered on your lips immediately fades the moment you enter the living room.

Yoongi’s sitting on the jagged couch, head on his hands and chest rising and falling strenuously, as if he’s having a hard time getting air inside his lungs. You’re next to him in a second, placing the water on the nearest table as your hand reaches for his shoulder.

“Yoongi—”

“Wait. Give me a minute.”

You pull your hand away, wincing at the tight tone of his voice. You take a seat next to him, as quietly as possible, mind reeling as you wait for him to finally lift his head. He does so a minute later, with red rimmed eyes and crestfallen features.

He grabs the water and takes a long gulp, sighing as he puts it back. “Sorry. I’m…”

“It’s fine if you don’t want to talk.”

He finally looks at you, a mild smile tugging at his lips as he shakes his head. “It’s fine. It’s just — alcohol makes me think a lot. And that’s never good,” his voice is still a bit slurred, words mingling in a tired tone. He clears his throat as his hand brushes his chest, leaning back with a fatigued exhale. “It still hurts, you know. Right here.”

Your eyes find the hand that’s still clutching at his chest, right above his heart, and you have to hold back the urge to entangle your fingers with his own. He doesn’t elaborate, but you perfectly know what he’s talking about — and if he finds it strange that you remember, he never says.

“I’m sure it does,” you murmur, smiling bitterly. “I’m an expert at that.”

He frowns, and the gesture mixed with his sleepy expression makes him look even more endearing, and your smile turns genuine this time.

“Really? huh. You shouldn't get your heart broken. You’re so… nice,” he blinks up at you and slowly puts a strand of hair on the back of your ear. You immediately lean back, heart stuttering and senses reeling. He pulls away fast, lips pursed. “Sorry. Don’t wanna make you uncomfortable.”

“It’s fine,” your voice says otherwise, and you’re sure he notices. You grab your glass of water, and the fresh liquid sliding down your throat helps a little. “You’re very in love, aren’t you?”

The lack of filter and the quiet atmosphere makes it painfully easy to slip the question, in a softer tone that almost gets lost in the silence. It hurts, pronouncing those words — but your mouth is painfully used to them.

“Mhm. That stupid song... it’s unfinished, but I just couldn’t wait to show it to her. I should have waited. Or better yet — I should have never played it,” he runs a hand across his face. “It might be better this way, though. I’m not at the best moment in my life right now.”

You let him blabber, allowing the side of your face to rest against the soft surface of the backrest, fully facing Yoongi now. “That’s okay — you can talk to me. I’m here if you need a friend.”

He turns to you, lips forming a smile. “Thank you. What about you? Who was the asshole that broke your heart?”

You can’t help but laugh at that, and he doesn’t question your strange reaction.

“Someone who has done it too many times. And he doesn't even know it,” you know you’re playing with fire right now, allowing your lips to form the first words that come to your mind — but the fatigue is finally slipping under your skin, and you can feel yourself submerging into a lethargic tipsiness as your body relaxes against the couch.

“Wow. You should say something, though.”

“Nice joke,” you retort plainly. “Do you believe in soulmates?”

He shakes his head, snorting. He’s looking at you with heavy lidded eyes, and even if he’s not smiling you can’t help but feel serene under his sleepy gaze, features tender and languid and making him look softer than usual.

“Don’t tell me you do. Look, I can be a sap when I drink, but all that destiny crap is… pure nonsense,” he slurs, “if someone breaks your heart, move on. Even if I’m not at that stage yet,” he adds quietly, tone not as mocking as the last words leave his mouth.

“You’ll heal,” and I’ll be there to make sure it happens.

“I guess I will. Still hurts like a bitch, though,” he looks at you then, and the tiredness in his gaze is suddenly replaced by an intensity you were not expecting, making your heart skip. “It might be because I'm drunk, but I have this sudden urge to punch the guy who broke your heart. If you ever need to lend a fist… I’ll be there.”

The laugh that escapes your lips is startlingly loud, breaking the stillness of your shared quiet words.

“Then you should hit up the gym a bit more,” you squeeze his arm in a teasing manner, and he swaps it gently.

“Hey, the intention is what counts,” his words give way to a long yawn, one that makes you clear your throat as you sit upright.

“I, um. I think I should get going. I don’t even want to look at the time,” you start getting up, but warm fingers curling around your wrist stops you from walking away.

“You should stay, it’s too late. You can leave when the sun comes up.”

You swallow, hating the way your resolve dies down so easily. It is no surprise, though — you have always been utterly weak for that expressive stare and drowsy voice.

“Okay.”

He leads you to his bedroom and asks for you to take it, with a sudden firmness in his voice that does not allow any arguments. You want to remind him that he’s the drunk one here, and that you should be the one taking the couch — but he playfully pushes you towards the bed, making you stumble as you sit on the edge with a surprised expression.

“You took me home, then listened to my pity talk. It’s the least I can do.”

You smile, skin flushing as you look up at him. “It was nothing, really.”

You start feeling the soft, cool sheets under your hands, suddenly self-conscious as Yoongi continues to observe you in silence. Looking up again, he seems to realize what he’s doing, and a blush of his own rises to his pale cheeks.

“You sure are quick to trust a stranger.”

“I know you won’t take advantage of me,” the certainty laced in your words clearly takes him aback, and a soaring mortification makes you stiffen under his gaze. He smiles warmly, though — and suddenly touches the tip of your nose in a fond gesture that makes your heart race.

“What the hell, you’re too nice.”

You chuckle, ignoring the way your face is burning. “Go to sleep, Yoongi.”

He nods, slowly walking towards the door. He turns around right before stepping into the hallway, and his eyes seem dazed for a second, focusing on yours as he bites his lips thoughtfully.

“Thinking about it,” he says, voice so quiet you can barely hear him. “I don’t think I ever saw you at the company.”

“I don’t think so either,” you reply carelessly, heart clenching.

He looks pensive for a few more seconds, giving you that unnervingly intense stare that makes you want to look away. You almost sigh in relief when it finally softens, smiling quietly.

“I’ll figure it out. Goodnight, Y/N.”

No, you won’t.

You still smile, though. Even if your eyes are burning, even if the sudden need to be alone crashes down like a throbbing weight on top of your shoulders.

You smile, because hope and reassurance are the only things you’re able to give him, even if he can’t return them.

“I’m sure you will. Goodnight, Yoongi.”

#I decided to split the chapter in two :') it's a decent length now at least #bangtan bookclub #kwritersnet #yoongi scenarios #yoongi angst #bts angst #yoongi smut #bts smut #bts scenarios #yoongi fanfic #bts fanfic

333 notes · View notes