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drivinmeinsane · 6 months

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Shot Through the Heart

※ Colt Seavers x GN!Reader ※

{ masterlist } ※ { ao3 }

※ Summary: You've worked with Colt off and on for years, building an easy rapport with the stuntman. The rest of the crew sends you to check up on him after he's bad off following a stunt that seems to have caused his nearly career-ending injury to act up.

※ Rating: T for suggestive themes.

※ Content/Tags: Fluff, Caretaking, No use of y/n, Mentions of old injury, Budding Love, Pre-Relationship, Solely based on the official trailer uploaded to YouTube by Universal Pictures

※ Word count: 3,052

※ Status: Oneshot/Complete

※ Author's Notes: The devil works fast but I work faster. That three and a half minute long trailer sure possessed me. Needless to say, I'm excited for the movie's release in a few months.

The setting sun is blinding you on its long journey below the horizon. You squint against the light at the block of apartments as you pull your vehicle into a stop alongside the curb. You really hope you’re at the right location. You’re not sure if you trust your crewmates to have given you the right address. You honestly did not really want to be here at all. Many of the crew for this particular production had worked with Colt before, so it really was wildly unfair that you had been unanimously volunteered to check up on the man after he was a no-show for the past couple days. Sure, he had called, but no one had actually laid eyes on him to verify his condition.

You put your car into park and open the door to step out into the evening heat. You immediately feel smothered by the warmth, and you reach across your center console to grab the items crowding your passenger seat. You withdraw, burdened, and nudge the door closed with your knee. You manage to hit the lock button on your key fob before you duck into the small parking garage. A flood of relief washes over you when you immediately spot Colt’s obnoxious brown and yellow truck. There are surfboards still resting in the bed of the vehicle. It’s parked haphazardly with no regard for anyone else’s need for the space. You’re in the right place at least. You skirt around it, eyes scanning for apartment numbers. You mutter his unit number under your breath while you look for it. You’re juggling a heating pad, multiple ice packs, and a bag of food. You’re not sure what you’re going to be walking into.

After what feels like an eternity of searching, you finally locate what you hope is his front door. With your hands full, you contemplate figuring out how to knock. You finally decide to just bang on the wood with your elbow. There’s no response or any whispers of movement. You sigh and hit it again, more aggressively. You know he’s home. The lifted monstrosity in the parking garage is proof enough. He avoids going anywhere without it.

You double down and are in the middle of hammering on the door for a third time when you finally hear muffled cursing gradually getting louder as the apartment’s occupant gets closer. To your relief, it’s Colt Seavers himself who yanks the door open hard enough you’re briefly worried he’s going to pull it right off the hinges. You open your mouth, about to launch into a bantering complaint about how he left you to rot on his doorstep when you register what exactly you’re looking at.

The man crowding the doorway is wet, straight from an interrupted shower. His shaggy, blond hair is falling into his eyes. The light from the setting sun reflects an orange glow on the water droplets racing down his body. He looks like he’s on fire. You drag your eyes from his obscenely exposed chest to his face. You try to pretend that you’re not talking to a very damp, very naked man preserving the last dregs of his modesty with only a towel wrapped around his narrow hips. You’ve just agreed with yourself not to acknowledge how large his hand looks clutching the fabric.

“Where’s the fire?” He asks. His annoyance fades away at the realization that you’re the one bothering him out of the blue.

“The guys sent me on a welfare check. We haven’t seen you in a few days.”

“I’m clearly alive so you’re welcome to-” He pantomimes you leaving by walking his fingers in the air “-report back that I haven’t died yet.”

“Welfare, not proof of life. Besides, you look like shit and I brought some supplies.” You argue, raising your arms to show your wares.

He looks like he’s thinking about pushing the issue, but he deflates, exhausted. He purposely lets out a dramatically weary sigh and gives you only the barest amount of space to get past him. You squeeze through the door, grazing against his wet arm. You hear him close and lock the front door behind you while you openly gawk at his apartment.

“You live like this?” You ask, slightly aghast. The place is a mess. There are plants and exercise equipment everywhere. The stuntman hovering behind you clearly has his priorities.

“Sure do. Just going to go finish rinsing off. I’d say make yourself comfortable but you’re already on your way,” he remarks, casting an amused glance at the way you’re wobbling while trying to extract yourself from your shoes with no hands.

You frown at his back as you watch him skirt around you and head in the direction of his bathroom. He’s moving jerkily, almost stumbling. His back is definitely messed up. You really hope it’s something that you will be able to assist with in some capacity. You know first hand how stunt work takes a toll on the human body.

Following the sound of a television, you manage to make your way to the living area. You shove over some electrolyte packets and gardening tools on his coffee table to create room for the bag of food that you made for him. The heating pad and ice packs get dumped on the floor next to one of the legs. As for yourself, you settle in on his couch to wait. You’re not surprised to see that he’s left an Indiana Jones movie playing on the screen. It seems like the kind of thing he would watch.

From the bathroom, you hear some muffled complaining before the shower kicks on. The sound of the rushing water does little to cover the noise of the shower curtain hooks on the rod as he wrestles with the material. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, thankful you didn’t hear Colt fall trying to get over the edge of the tub. The last thing you wanted was to wrestle your naked crewmate while on the phone with emergency services.

Only a few minutes pass before the water cuts off and you hear the door open. You can’t help but notice that you didn’t hear the sound of his bedroom door closing. There’s just the sound of footsteps and rustling fabric. He emerges, wearing a pair of garish pajama pants. He’s still distractingly shirtless, because why wouldn’t he be? It’s not as though he has a guest that is trying very hard to be normal about this entire situation. There’s a towel draped over his bare shoulders in the effort to contain the mess produced by his sopping wet hair. Trails of water are running down his neck and soaking into the cloth.

Colt practically drags himself over to you. He lowers himself onto the cushion at your side, and makes an effort to avoid leaning against the back of the couch. You turn to face the blond man, taking a hard look at him. He looks even worse up close than he did when he greeted you at the door. Exhaustion is deepening the fine lines in his face and his eye bags nearly have their own luggage.

“How are you doing? Really?”

He gives you one of his goofy grimaces and flashes a thumbs up. He can’t hide the wince as movement pulls at his back muscles. The look you give him in return is unimpressed.

“Can you even function?”

��Barely,” he says with a groan as he tries to get a little more comfortable. He still looks painfully stiff.

You suppress the urge to give him a comforting pat on the leg and instead lean over to dig the meal you had brought for him out of the bag. You shove a tupperware container, a wrapped sandwich, and a plastic fork at him until he takes them. He looks bewildered.

“Eat. The dressing is in the small container hanging out in the salad greens.”

“Did you make this yourself?”

“I’ve worked with you enough times to know how you are, so yes.” You admired the man’s discipline, but it had been cause for concern while you desperately scoured your kitchen looking for something to make that wasn’t going to fall under the umbrella of junk food.

“Maybe I should reinjure myself more often then,” he says with a smirk and raises his eyebrows. You don’t dignify him with a response.

He balances the container of salad on the armrest next to him and sets to work on unwrapping the sandwich. It’s grilled chicken breast with a truly ridiculous amount of lettuce and tomato. You hadn’t dumped condiments on it, not wanting it to get soggy during the car ride.

“I’m here to play nursemaid so can I do something about all of that? '' You gesture to his dripping hair and his hunched over body.

He looks up from the sandwich like he’s holding something precious in his hands. “You made me this. You can do anything you want with me. I’ve only got a few limits.”

You roll your eyes at his suggestive tone before rising up onto your knees. You shuffle closer, knees mere inches away from grazing the outside of his thigh. The towel slips freely from his shoulders and he doesn’t complain when you drape it over his head. You gently work the material over his hair. Colt starts in on the sandwich while you work carefully to dry him without putting unnecessary pressure or movement on him. You take a corner of the towel and wipe away the water that has trailed down his face and his neck. You don’t go any further down than his collarbone not daring to drag the fabric over his chest. You have to cling to some level of professionalism between coworkers. He leans into the touches in the areas you are willing to wipe dry. You pretend not to notice.

He eats like he’s been starving ever since the last day you and the rest of the crew had seen him on set. He probably had been if he was still in this bad of shape days later. You leave him to start in on the salad. On your way to hang the towel over the shower curtain rod to dry, you stumble over a stray weight that had been left in the middle of the floor. You manage to suppress your pained noises despite the tears leaping to your eyes. Why had you been volunteered for this? Your crewmates had been suspiciously giggly and evasive when you had protested. They had just made excuses and jokes about how you were Colt’s favorite person and you being the one to check on him would make his day. What a load of crap.

“What do you usually do for your back?” You ask, coming back into the room and trying to not let on you nearly had your own medical emergency just out of sight.

“Just uh… stick the tens on it and stretch it out.”

“Gotcha. Finish that up and we’ll start on your back,” you tell him. You crouch down next to the coffee table and gather the ice packs. You won’t be using them today. The injury has sat for too long.

“Thanks, nurse,” he responds around a mouthful of greens.

You cross the apartment and pull open the door to the freezer. You cram the ice packs onto an already sizable stack of them sandwiched between the freezer wall and bags of frozen vegetables. The refrigerator itself is covered in receipts, bills, coupons, business cards, brochures… You’re really not sure how Colt is able to find anything. You suppose that it’s all his own brand of organized chaos.

You make your way back to the living room in time to see him clamp the lid back on the tupperware container. You give your head a little shake. The man inhaled an entire sandwich and a salad in under fifteen minutes. Impressive. You hope his stomach handles going from zero to a hundred with more grace than yours would. You don’t feel like holding his hair back while he vomits.

“How do you want to do this? Floor, couch, or bed?”

He twinges his back when he twists to look up at you. You’d laugh if you hadn’t felt a sting of worry at the way he winced. You know Colt’s a tough man. You have seen him take hit after hit over the past few years. He must be hurting badly to be showing this much sincere discomfort. You’ve seen him ham it up as a joke, but this was the real deal.

“I’m glad one of us thinks I’ll be able to get off the floor. How about you take me to bed, beautiful?”

He heaves himself off the couch and you trail after him into his bedroom. The floor is messy like the rest of the house. You’re not sure if he’s always this disorganized or if it was just something that has resulted from him not being able to keep up with it due to his back. Given the state of his fridge, you’re strongly considering that it’s the former and not the latter.

“How do you want me?” The flirtatious tone isn’t quite coming through as intended with him standing like he’s auditioning for the starring role in a live action adaptation of the Hunchback of Notre Dame.

“On your stomach, please. Do you have lotion or anything I can use on you?”

He groans as he makes his way onto the bed and lays face down. He’s unable to relax, the muscles in his back are too tight. “I have some vaseline in the bathroom. Right drawer.”

You set the heating pad down on the bed next to him after plugging it in. You make another trek to the bathroom to search for the aforementioned vaseline. It’s not hard to locate and you manage to dodge the weight this time. You’re not about to wreck your foot on it again. Once was enough.

You settle on the bed next Colt, careful not to jostle him. You swipe your fingers though the vaseline to collect a sizable dollop of the substance. You set the container aside and liberally coat your hands with what you had scooped out. Your eyes catch on the long scar running alongside the stuntman’s spine. It’s pink and raised, a fairly old wound but not old enough to fade to silver. You weren’t there when Colt got the injury. You’d been on another set halfway across the world, but the things you’d heard months later from people who had been present when it happened weren’t good. He had nearly died and if he had… you would have just been left with memories spanning the hours spent with this cocky man. You would have likely said a few words at his funeral, if you had even been able to make it, and that would have been the end of Colt Seavers. He would be just another stuntman who died doing what he loved. The thought puts a pit in your stomach. You push it aside, he’s still alive and he’s waiting for you to get on with the program.

The initial touch of your hands against his bare back causes you both to tense up and go deathly quiet. Your pulse is hammering in your years and you swear you can hear the sound of his throat as he swallows. You try to not knee him in the side as you start to massage the expanse between his broad shoulders. It’s not long before he’s melting into the mattress, relaxing under your touch. You work him over, section by section. You gently knead the raised line of scar tissue, helping to discourage the excess building of collagen. A little lower and he’s groaning when you carefully dig your knuckles into the skin above his waistband, forcing the tight muscles to yield. He’s limp and unresistant when you catch him by the hip and pull his pelvis in your direction to better align his spine.

Thankfully, you spot an already dirty shirt nearby. You pick it up and wipe your hands on it with a grimace. Most of the vaseline has either ended up on the man currently face down on his bed or had absorbed into your palms, but you still didn’t want to risk tracing it through the house before you slathered your hands in dish soap to remove any oily residue. As a final token of care, you lay the heating pad across his lower back and turn it on the medium setting. You’ve done all you can do for him.

Colt is so still and quiet that you’re sure he’s fallen asleep. You turn away from him and inch towards the edge of the bed, careful not to disturb him while you begin your exit from his apartment and back to your vehicle. You nearly leap out of your skin when he shifts enough to catch hold of your forearm. His hand is so large that his middle finger and thumb nearly touch.

“Please stay.” He sounds tired, vulnerable. There’s no charisma or bravado to his voice.

You feel your face soften as you take in his words. “All right.”

You scoot back towards him and lay down on your back at his side. The bed is barely big enough for the both of you like this. It’s intimate, too intimate, especially since your arm is still in his grasp. You can’t bring yourself to mind. The line between being coworkers and whatever this is was blurred a long time ago anyway despite your best efforts to tell yourself otherwise. You're starting to realize your crewmates might have been more aware than you were. Those assholes.

When Colt rises up onto one elbow and leans over, taking all the time in the world to project his intentions, you don’t turn from him. You just bring a hand up to brush his still damp hair out of his face. You guide the stuntman the rest of the way in, your hand migrates to cup his bearded cheek. The kiss you share is inevitable and unhurried. It feels as natural as breathing.

#the fall guy (2024)#the fall guy #colt seavers #colt seavers x reader #ryan gosling #ryan gosling character #the fall guy fanfic #colt seavers fanfic #my work #my posts

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octuscle · 7 days

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My biggest dream was to backpacking in europe between the end of high school and the beginning of college. But I didn't do it. In a few days I'll celebrate my 50. birthday and my wife told me she has a special present for me realizing my dream from my youth and getting a young lover for herself when I'm back. Now I've this countdown on my phone from your corporation. What's going on?

You think it's a bit silly when you get on the plane. With hand luggage only. A large rucksack. Nothing else. Otherwise, when you get on the plane, you usually have a suit on and your laptop with you. Today? T-shirt and functional pants. Cell phone with extra powerful power bank. You feel dressed up. And you look really dressed up too.

When you wake up shortly before landing in Paris, you stroke your chin. Shit, you can't have grown that much beard between New York and here… Anyway, now you have to make your way to Gare de Lyon somehow. The TGV to Vezelay leaves in four hours. And from there, the first stage takes you along the Way of St. James to Strasbourg. With your little bit of school French, you'll manage quite well. In the metro, you look at your reflection in the window pane. You are a miserable tourist. An ageing man in ugly functional clothing. But the beard looks pretty cool…

When you finally arrive at Vezelay station, it's late. You are tired. You've booked a hotel room near the station for your first night in Europe. A bit of comfort. By the way, the Chronivac timer has expired. The display shows that the transformation is in progress.

The hotel is relatively elegant. You stand out at breakfast. Yes, you are freshly showered. But you could go to the hairdresser again. And although you've had a fresh shave, you've already got a shadow of a beard again.

Now it's getting serious. You're standing in front of the hotel. The rucksack on your back. You're already hot. And your first stage of the day is 25 kilometers. How much is that in miles? And why are you doing this to yourself…

The day is hell. You're sweating like a pig. Your feet hurt. You have a sunburn. On the one hand you're hungry, on the other you feel like puking. And when you arrive at your stage destination, you realize that you can't get accommodation without a reservation. As you pass a building site, the foreman asks you if you are looking for work. You reply that you need somewhere to sleep. He replies that that is not a problem. If you give him a hand, you will be given dinner and a place to sleep. You don't really feel like doing any more physical work. And you've always been a failure as a handyman. But somehow you know how to mix concrete and pour a foundation. And as you drink a beer in the evening sun at around 7:30 p.m. and talk to the other craftsmen, it feels very normal. One of the carpenters asks you if you're from the north of France. Because of your strange dialect. You look at him questioningly. And say that you're from Buffalo. He asks if that's near Lille. You have obviously arrived in France.

When you wake up the next morning in your bunk in the trailer, it's 05:30. You were expecting a hell of a muscle ache. But you feel like ripping out trees. You wash yourself briefly with ice-cold water in the rain barrel and then continue on your way. You've promised to help out for two more days before you move on.

Your wife mocked you when you said you wanted to take time out to do two months of work and travel in Europe. Sometimes you realize that she is simply much older than you. But shit, so is the French president's wife. And he should be about your age. 45 years old, as far as you know. Just four years older than you… Well, he's got further than you. But you look hotter than him. And the fresh air is obviously doing you good. Your wife is really suggestive when you facetime. You didn't even know she was into phone sex. But it's a nice change. Normally you tend to fuck colleagues on the building sites where you're helping out. It's more of a man's world. Something for real guys. And if you're anything, you're a real guy.

You've been on the road for six weeks when you finally arrive in Strasbourg. Shit, it's expensive here. Prices completely spoiled by tourists and European bureaucrats. Fortunately, you soon find a job here too. Not as a construction worker, though. But as a waiter in a bistro. And you can even sleep above the bistro. On the very first evening, you notice that very few guests spend the whole night here. A constant coming and going. And when you have to go to the toilet across the corridor, a not at all bad-looking guy in a stuffy suit asks you if you'd like to come up to his room for a moment. He slips you 50 euros. A hell of a lot of money for a blowjob or something. Should you feel cheap or like a hooker? Who are you kidding? Back home on the other side of the pond, you're the toyboy of an ancient lady. She's already 50 years old.

Strasbourg was awesome. But you only have three more weeks before you have to go back. The new semester at university starts. And your GILF is waiting for you back. She told you yesterday how much she misses you. You went out of your way to make her squeal with ecstasy at the end of the phone call. The PayPal payment arrived immediately. Together with the money you earned as a hustler and waiter in Strasbourg, you can now enjoy your last days to the full. You love the wind on your nipples. Maybe a hot trucker or something will pick you up as a hitchhiker. Tonight you should be in a place called Karlsruhe. Then it's not far to Frankfurt. And from there it's back to Buffalo. Someone there is eagerly awaiting her young lover.

#male tf #muscle tf #reality change #inked man #tank top #age reduction #ai image

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buns0fst33l · 2 months

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— sub!König —

-Cod men scenarios-

König x GN Reader

MDNI Suggestive themes

TW: brief mention of injury/warfare

Not proofread, also I used Google Translate

König, who’s secretly a switch but only under very particular circumstances.

Normally, he wants to be in charge. In his head, he wants to be in charge. When he’s with you intimately, he wants to be in charge. But there’s a very particular set of circumstances that have him rolling over to expose a soft underbelly he didn’t know he had.

You have plans to get lunch with him after a three month leave. He comes to you, excited as always. But there’s something about him coming back at the exact moment you’ve finished getting ready to go out that absolutely wrecks him.

Now, he loves you and finds you to be “an enchanting creature”, even when your face is puffy and your complexion is shit and you feel like ass. And he is excited to come home to you and worship your lovely body regardless of what state it’s in. Usually it’s the middle of the night, when you’re in your most natural and comfortable state, which he loves.

But something about this is eating him alive.

You’re wearing your favorite outfit. Your hair is freshly washed, mostly dry but still slightly cool to the touch from the remaining bit of moisture. You’ve just finished lathering yourself in lotions and oils and perfume. The delicate metal of the casual jewelry you’ve chosen compliments your skin tone in the most angelic way, glittering with little reflective shimmers as your body moves around to preen itself.

‘Wie ein Hase,’ (like a bunny) he thinks to himself. The warmth and scent of your shower is still wafting off of your water-softened skin deliciously.

As soon as you notice him, you move so fast it’s funny and bounce your way over to the objectively creepy brute who looks ready to eat you alive. Ugh, the domestic sight of your warm smile and cute bare feet quickly padding over to greet him has his soul fucking melting.

With all the grace of a bull in a china shop, he grabs you, picks you up, and sits on the couch with you straddling him. Both of his massive, too-long arms are wrapped around your torso like pythons and his face is buried in the crook of your neck. He’s shamelessly huffing in deep lungfuls of your scent like an animal, inhaling through his nose and exhaling through his mouth noisily. With every breath, he scoots that crooked, handsome nose of his an inch in another direction to get more of your scent. Once he reaches just behind your ear, you squeal and push on his shoulders at the unexpected tickle it causes. His arms are still keeping your body pressed closely to his.

“Hello to you too….Are you having fun?” You tease him lowly, reaching to grab the sides of his face and pry his big head away from your body and into your line of sight. He resists for a second, but then allows it, looking into your eyes with heavy eyelids.

He’s so textbook masculine and somehow adorable at the same time. Those strong, dark brows of his are relaxed and those intense, steel-blue eyes are lidded over even more than usual, droopy and sleepy-looking. The faintest bit of pink dusts over his strong cheek bones and crooked Roman nose. His pretty, thin cupids bow lips are slightly parted and his tongue darts between them briefly as he gives you a slow nod in response to your question. His breathing is quiet, but deep and heavy. A barely-restrained pant.

One of your hands leaves his face to push back the silky black strands of his hair with a gentle but efficient swipe and you can’t help but coo at the way his eyes roll back and flutter shut at your gentle touch. Your hand finds its way back to his jaw right away and you lean in, clicking your tongue lovingly at the pitiful mess he so quickly became.

Oh you have no idea the effect you’re having. All he’s seen for months is ugly, angry, dying and bitter men. Even triumph stunk of unwashed, musty clothes, metal, caked-on sweat, infected stitches, sun-rotted blood stains. And suddenly he has what feels like a newly made doll, crafted by god just for him, finished just in time for his weary soul to lap up like a starved dog. Instead of grime and sweat and oil and god-knows-what-else, his callused fingers greedily smooth over your expanses of clean, delicious, fuckable-smelling flesh.

His palms drag over your sides and back and his fingertips grab at your clothes and drag over your scalp eagerly. You smile softly at the state he’s in and grab his wrists. He allows you to pull his hands off of you, but scoots his hips forward and against your body like he needs to make up for the physical contact you took away.

“Liebling…bitte…” his voice cracks a little. You bite your lip and search his eyes, feeling a power trip wash over you. You grasp it delicately, afraid you’ll accidentally break the spell he’s under if you bring his attention to it.

“What do you need, Kö?” You whisper to him, thumbs stroking his huge forearms you’re holding in front of you. Your hands don’t go around all the way. He is just… allowing you to be in charge of his absolute tank of a body. He is being so mushy for you right now. He bites his lip and whines quietly.

Oh you need to see where this goes. Fuck your lunch date, you can get takeout later.

Please like or reblog if you enjoyed! 💋

✨banner/divider created by @cafekitsune!✨

#konig #reader #dom!reader #sub konig #könig x reader #call of duty #headcanons #mommy #?#scent #gn reader #cod mw2 #codmenideaworms #cod headcanons #könig #sub!konig

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lynnlovesthestars · 7 months

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What do you think each companions’ favorite flower would be? Other than Shadowheart’s being night orchid

Ohh, i love this question..

Characters: Astarion, Wyll, Gale, Lae'zel, Karlach, Halsin. (+ minthara, Jaheira and minsc at the end)

Astarion wisteria: he never noticed it grows in the cemetery where he was buried. The night he died and came back to life, the wisteria was not in bloom yet, so he didn't notice, but after the absolute ordeal he came back a few times and in one of them, the wisteria was beautifully in bloom. It was magical to walk underneath the cascading pinks and purples, and in a way it felt like one of Tav's hugs. After seeing it, he finds a book about wisteria in Gale's stack of books, and it took him a second to steal it.

Every time he'd read more about this flower, his interest in it only grew, and along with it, he found himself growing pretty fond of the flower.

He could see himself in the delicate white petals: wisteria has different meanings in each region of Faerun and all of them were, in a way, parts of him.

Longevity, immortality, but also melancholy and a life cut short. It's new beginnings and self-reflection over the past.

♡♡

Wyll likes poppies. Maybe it's the simplicity that catches his eye right away, or maybe the beautiful vibrant colors, nevertheless he makes sure that there's always a pot of poppies at home. He mostly takes care of it, cause he doesn't want to put the responsibility on someone else, but you bet he will water his poppies with a precision worth of the blade of avernus.

His first memory of poppies, he holds it very dear, cause it was one of the last truly happy memories with his father.

Wyll worked with his father briefly before Ulder had to depart for Elturel. They took their horses and traversed along the Chionthar to make sure it would be safe for Ulder and the fists to cross. Tough as they were riding, they stumbled upon a stunning yellow and red poppy field. It reminded them of the flaming fists, of their home, of their mission, but lastly of the sunset that would await them after Elturel was safe. Though they didn't actually say it out loud, they knew Wyll was going to treasure the moment.

♡♡

Lae'zel loves snapdragons. First because they remind her of the might of githyanki's, then because she found them particularly relatable. Snapdragons can survive in the harshest temperatures, just like she was able to endure her whole life being turned upside down.

It's not easy to make her smile genuinely, but if you show up with Snapdragons, she will melt inside. (Though she'd never admit it)

♡♡

Gale likes hyacinths. He's mesmerized by their structure, their colors, their smell. They are just so intriguing. He started growing hyacinths to practice his weave control, but over time he really grew fond of them.

Gale definitely has a name for his pots, and refers to them as his children. One time he was rambling about the flowers, and everyone believed he was a father and forgot to let them know.

"I cannot believe you all" Gale exclaimed, throwing his hands up. "do you think i'd really choose to be stuck here with you, rather than at home with literally my children?!"

"Yes" everyone answered in unison.

♡♡

Karlach LOVES SUNFLOWERS. They just make her smile. She is a naturally outgoing and sunflowers just remind her of herself. Also she spent so long in Avernus, away from the sun, that when she came back to the surface, she followed it like a sunflower.

It wasn't easy to find them near Baldur's Gate, in fact the closest she's ever gotten to one was near Rosymorn monastery. The field was clearly blesses by Lathander, cause those sunflowers were breathtaking, even if she had to see them from her horse.

♡♡

Halsin loved every flower, of course. But one that always made his heart swell was the four o'clock flower. It was something so unique: a flower that would bloom only at dawn. It was like a secret only for those eyes that stayed vigilant in the dark. It was a flower for those lonely souls that couldn't sleep. Although he always had nature by his side, he did feel lonely at the end of the day. Through the decades he had many lovers, but no one could fill that emptiness, and that flower passed unnoticed until everyone went to sleep, just like he would pass unnoticed as he guised as a butterfly.

♡♡

Jaheira peony

Minsc marigold

Minthara black dahlia.

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alm0ndla1t · 1 year

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༘⋆ - WHAT ZODIAC SIGNS ARE THE WEDNESDAY CHARACTERS?

༘⋆ - TW: none, other than a long astrological essay on wednesday characters…

༘⋆ - WEDNESDAY: no one in this world could be a better representation of the scorpio sun other than wednesday addams. i am on cloud nine to have it be canon, as her birthday is set to be november 13th in the series. although, i must add that i suspect her being a scorpio rising too, as her love for all things black and gore and her overall appearance is definitely a dead giveaway. the sun and rising conjunction indicates that her public image is a reflection of who she really is - she might have her guards up, but she’s not masking her truest self. in other words, wednesday accurately presents herself to the world. wednesday, as most scorpios, is quick witted yet cold in most situations. she is not easily swept off her feet, but as any other water sign, she’ll be absolutely devoted to you once you earn her trust.

༘⋆ - ENID: our lovely werewolf girl is definitely giving me cancer sun vibes - she might second guess her decisions or be overally clumsy, but you can’t deny that she is the mom friend. enid is a ray of sunshine - she is quite talkative and sociable, and once you two click - she’ll be your bestest bud. she’ll paint your nails, make you snoods to match and banter about the latest nevermore drama. not only that, we have to remember that cancer is ruled by moon - which is something that makes quite a lot of sense and is generally significant to her, considering her outcast species.

༘⋆ - XAVIER: the one and only resident tortured artist is definitely a sagittarius man in my eyes. he seems like quite the jokester and the type of person whose flirting style is roasting & sarcasm. he’s all over the place and quite nosy, giving advices left & right and wanting to be a part of every major event, whether that be you hunting down the hyde by its footprints or visiting the gates’ house. that, however, also indicates the presence of his caring nature, and in some cases, possessiveness. that brings me to the point where i state that he gives me scorpio venus vibes. i mostly see a confirmation of that in his thing for ‘tragic goth girls with funeral parlor fashion sense’. his sag sun also indicates his creativity and love for all things art, since sagittarius, just like the artsy sign pisces, is ruled by jupiter. xavier is very blunt and will not hesitate to call you out on your bs, especially if it involves his ego being hurt (very fire sign man of him). under the facade of the whole ‘life of the party’ persona, there is a darker side to him, which his friend ajax briefly mentions.

༘⋆ - AJAX: when it comes to our stoner boy ajax, there is no doubt that this gorgon guy is a taurus. he is down to earth, laid back and is a person of warm nature. he is basically the epitome of ‘no thoughts, just vibes’. with taurus being ruled by venus, ajax shows up as loving and caring person when it comes to both lovers, friends and family. the stoner boy is a dependable and trustworthy friend, and we certainly see it in course of his conversation with enid, where he reveals xavier’s ‘darker side’ yet still highlights his devotion to the friend. but sadly, as a good old taurus sun, he doesn’t really take hints.

༘⋆ - BIANCA: bianca is unarguably one of the best examples of a female leo sun. this girl is always driven by the exciting feeling of competition and the desire to win, but also has a darker side to her which haunts her on a daily basis. apart from most fire signs, or even leo’s neighboring sign virgo, leos tend to have a lot of insecurities that they compensate for by being arrogant & unapologetically extra. this clearly explains bianca’s behavior, and therefore in my story, she is definitely not the villain. we see that her personality traits were also influenced by her mother’s toxicity, which makes me believe her moon could definitely be in scorpio. her siren powers are both a blessing and a curse - with the help of those, she was able to siren her way into the academy, leaving the toxic environment of ‘morning song’, but when it comes to her platonic or romantic relationships, her powers are often frowned upon.

༘⋆ - TYLER: weirdly enough, when speaking of tyler, i must say that he could be a capricorn sun. moreover, i will have the nerve to say that his sun is definitely in opposition to his moon, thus being in cancer, because it would make perfect sense to me. these two placements indicate his emotional ups and downs and the struggles of his wants and needs. coming from my personal observations, tyler’s mental health state, as well as the neediness and (at some point) fear of abandonment when it comes to romantic relationships, could be easily explained by his sun and moon sign. the teenage boy is always overwhelmed by his thoughts and feelings and is unable to comprehend them. therefore, he is prone to manipulation, and in this case, ms. thornhill’s influence. it is also important to note that such aspect shows a complex relationship with a mother figure, as well as the absence of the father to some extent. that is why i do believe he has this particular astro combination, which gives him a mixture of personalities.

༘⋆ - EUGENE: to end off and complete the holy water sign trinity, it must be said that eugene would probably be a pisces. that kid is absolutely wholesome and has to be protected by all costs, but he completely denies it as he puts his life in danger, striving to accomplish a heroic mission of investigating the hyde’s lair. with his exaggerated sense of a fairy tale romance and never-ending attempts of finding his one true love who would appreciate him for who he is, i suppose his sun sign is conjunct his venus. his genuine friendship with the scorpio sun wednesday could easily explain my choice for his sun sign, as, speaking from experience once again, i am the number one stan of scorpio x pisces friendships.

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tirkdi · 5 days

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For the DVD commentary:

A century in, she began to worry.

It had been some time now since anyone but the two of them had a personal memory of the Black Heretic. She had hoped that the distance would allow him to regain some of his interest, some of his intensity, but if anything, it was the opposite.

"Still no Ilya." He made the observation sound tired, rehearsed. He spoke Suli, because he knew the oprichniki did not. "I made the Shadow Fold a hundred years ago, and there’s still no Ilya. Do you think he figured out how to die?"

"I know why you’re asking."

"Are you going to answer?"

A fish jumped in the lake beside them, shattering the reflection of light on the pond. "Are you still scared of me?" he asked.

Damn her mouth and his memory. She sighed. "I’m scared for you. You’re waiting for something we may never find."

"Never is a very long time."

"I don’t need a lecture on eternity, boy."

A hint of a smile played on his lips. "It’s a long while since I’ve been a boy, Madraya."

"Then maybe you need the reminder."

He didn’t respond, and they walked the path together in silence, the scrape of pebbles beneath their feet the only sounds. Even the oprichniki moved quietly, conserving energy in the midday heat.

She looked in the direction her son indicated, the leaves on the trees unmoving without a hint of breeze. "Still working on your penance," she observed.

"My what?"

"Penance," she repeated. "For the Fold." Baghra had long since realized that life was cyclical for a reason – the straight line of immortality broke too many tethers to the world, made it impossible to keep one’s center. Without the threat of death, a practice of repair was the only thing that could bring one back into alignment with others, with nature. Wasn’t that repair why she was at the Little Palace in the first place?

"Penance." He rolled the word in his mouth as if he’d never heard it before. "That’s one idea, I suppose."

I briefly futzed around with the idea of this chapter being from Aleksander's point of view, and then I realized it would be so, so boring. I did not want to write 400 years of the type of depression going on in his head and you did not want to read it. It's not like Baghra is doing great at this point, either, but at least she's got coping mechanisms (shitty ones, but still!) So here we are. Bold is my commentary. *

A century in, she began to worry. Another one for 'mom of the millennium' award. She waited a century before she started worrying. "It's just a phase," she told herself, years one through ninety-nine.

She walked the lake beside him, the noon sun hot above. The grass was summer-green and unmoving – no natural wind to stir it, no Squallers to disrupt the stillness. The Grisha who would normally be training or playing around by the water were inside the Little Palace, avoiding the heat, but heat had never bothered either her or her son. Not after spending so many, many cold years. I don't go deep into this headcanon but I definitely believe that Baghra & Aleksander are sensitive to cold but not heat. There's a reason that Baghra keeps the fire going all the time, and though I think it's partly religious/superstition, I think a lot of it is just straight up trauma.

The two of them walked the gravel path by the lake, the Little Palace behind them, rolling hills in front. The oprichniki the Tsar had given him for protection – spies, more like – kept the perimeter at a healthy distance. I deeply, genuinely believe that the oprichniki were the Tsars' attempts at spies post-Shadowfold. Why on earth would the most powerful Grisha need protection -- and why would he need otkazats'ya protection? Genya was not the first spy between the palaces!! Aleksander was just better at getting his spies to be loyal to and side with him than the Lantsovs were.

"Still no Ilya." He made the observation sound tired, rehearsed. He spoke Suli, because he knew the oprichniki did not. Spiesssssssss. "I made the Shadow Fold a hundred years ago, and there’s still no Ilya. This is the sort of thing that should bring Saints out of the woodwork, don't you think? Every disaster is an opportunity, etc. Do you think he figured out how to die?"

"I know why you’re asking." Because he wants to die, too.

"Are you going to answer?" This is almost a 'do you love me enough to help me die' question.

She chanced a glance up at his face, the clench of his jaw. She wouldn’t push him on this farther now. "Do I think he figured out how to die? Perhaps," she admitted. Perhaps he had been too Grisha to die, or perhaps he had been just Grisha enough. Not unnatural they way she was. The way he was. Here we have the beginnings of Baghra acknowledging that maybe she and her son are not Grisha at all, or were Grisha of a different type. Her powerful father might not have had the same immortality. And then, because she remembered the decades when her son had asked question after question about her life, about her wants, she added: "I like to think he would have found me hadn’t." She thinks he'll snap out of his century-long depression if she shares one (1) personal fact.

A fish jumped in the lake beside them, shattering the reflection of light on the pond. "Are you still scared of me?" he asked.

Damn her mouth and his memory. She sighed. So annoying when your son remembers that you almost said you loved him. "I’m scared for you. You’re waiting for something we may never find."

"Never is a very long time." A line he uses with both his mom and Alina.

"I don’t need a lecture on eternity, boy."

A hint of a smile played on his lips. "It’s a long while since I’ve been a boy, Madraya." Legit, can you imagine being four hundred and your mom calls you boy. You are three hundred years older than everyone else other than her and she's all "You'll always be my baby (derogatory)"

"Then maybe you need the reminder." I don't think he's forgotten what his childhood was like, Baghra, but thanks.

He didn’t respond, and they walked the path together in silence, the scrape of pebbles beneath their feet the only sounds. Even the oprichniki moved quietly, conserving energy in the midday heat.

"We’ll be expanding the grounds of the Little Palace," he said, gesturing to a hill beside them. "Our expeditions to find Grisha children in other countries and bring them to safety have been increasingly fruitful. We’re going to need more space." There's so little about the intervening years! I assume he had parties going into other countries and getting Grisha out of there on the reg.

She looked in the direction her son indicated, the leaves on the trees unmoving without a hint of breeze. "Still working on your penance," she observed.

"My what?" Penance? I don't know her.

"Penance," she repeated. "For the Fold." I was so curious in the trilogy when he says "Redemption. Salvation. Penance. My mother's quaint ideas." what their conversations about those must have been like. So here's one.

Baghra had long since realized that life was cyclical for a reason – the straight line of immortality broke too many tethers to the world, made it impossible to keep one’s center. Without the threat of death, a practice of repair was the only thing that could bring one back into alignment with others, with nature. Wasn’t that repair why she was at the Little Palace in the first place? There's a lot made of Baghra's shift in perspective from DiTW to TGT, and also what her religious beliefs really are. This is my attempt at a quick explanation for that – it's more pragmatic than religious, though it's not dissimilar to some religious practices. Here she's really trying to help her son.

"Penance." He rolled the word in his mouth as if he’d never heard it before. This guy, man. "That’s one idea, I suppose."

#thank you this was a fun one!#dvd commentary #a hundred lifetimes ago #an ask #jammerific

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brunchable · 2 years

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Thanks for Dinner (Halloween Oneshot) || Doctor Strange x Vampire!Reader.

Word Count: 4K Warning: Dark Themes, Violence and Gore, Mentions of blood, Vampire feeding on human. A/N: I dunno who wants to be tagged or not so I just tagged the people who I see in my notifs often hehe. Roughly based in 1983's "The Montesi Formula," a story in Doctor Strange #59-#62 where he briefly wiped out the existence of vampires. Vampire Strange Edit is mine ;)

Lilith a female demon dwelling in deserted places and seduces unsuspecting men. mother of vampires.

Vampire Vampires are a nocturnal race of humanoids who must feed on blood for sustenance. They have existed alongside humans for thousands of years and have had many conflicts with them throughout history.

tags: @goldencherriess @gaitwae @classicrebound @gwephen @thealleydog @lucimorningst4r @allie131313 @dragonqueen89 @xunquish-blog @d0ct0rstrangewife @pinkplayer14 @ironstrange1991 @mirikusashes @strangeobsessed @jyessaminereads @boop-le-snoot @pinkthick

“The most powerful among them supposedly have the ability to transform into anything, including a person, a bat, a wolf, or a cloud of mist. They may mimic any age range from very young to very elderly. Some people have the ability to control the weather and bring about gloom, storms, and deafening thunder. Uncertain as to their motivations, one thing is certain: they leave a wake of death, treating human life with the same disregard as we would a fly.”

“What are their weaknesses?” Stephen asked, moving the discussion forward. “How do we put an end to them?”

Wong nodded at these questions. “As with the stories of their strengths, there are likewise stories of their vulnerabilities.”

“Their powers are limited to the desolate hours of night. While they can walk about in broad daylight, they attempt to avoid the sun at all costs. It is during these bright hours that they are at their most vulnerable. They used to only be able to find rest by lying in the soil of their native land, but like us, they evolve. But still, they are born of something unholy, sacred objects, such as crucifixes, communion wafers, and baptismal waters, are poison to them. The same holds true for the wild rose—if a blossom is placed upon the tomb while the craven creature reposes, it will not be able to rise until that rose has expired utterly.”

“Can they be killed?” Stephen asks again, his voice low. Wong nodded.

“They can be destroyed only by decapitation and burned to ash, and then those ashes scattered to the four winds. Nothing short of this grisly solution will be effective—Lucky for us we don't have to do any of those. We have magic to get rid of them efficiently, especially the trouble makers. . . We go to Eastern Europe to find where the children of the night reside. . . we ambush them.”

You came from nowhere it seemed. One moment Stephen was alone, watching his stew heat over the campfire, and the next you were there, standing at the tree line.

Stephen jolted to his feet when he saw you, his magic appearing in hand before he even really thought to conjure it. Stephen aimed at you, but you did not seem particularly bothered by him doing so. You stood stock still, and Stephen wondered how long you had been there that way, watching him.

“What are you doing here?” He boomed. You did not react, only continued to stand silent, your eyes catching the orange flames. You stood with your arms wrapped around yourself, seemingly entranced by the glowing heat. You were dirty and ragged looking, but your pale skin beneath the dirt almost reflected the fire light.

Stephen looked warily around, keeping a sharp eye and ear for any movement in the woods around him. This would not be the first time he’d seen a group use a vulnerable woman for bait so they could rob someone blind, or worse. But no such group came.

You two remained in a standoff for another long moment, the fire crackling between them. Stephen, unsure what to do, began to shift uncomfortably before he lowered his weapon ever so slightly.

“Can I help you?” He called out in the same gruff voice, his breath coming out in clouds. You took a shaky breath and nodded almost imperceptibly in the vague light.

Stephe noticed then the way you were breathing shakily, and the way you were trembling in the cold, your slender shoulders bare beneath the ragged tank top you wore.

Stephen licked his chapped lips nervously as he looked around again, sensing no other presence than you. Against the gnawing feeling in his stomach, Stephen lowered his tao mandalas, his grimy hands shaking slightly. Your eyes were on him, locked onto every small movement Stephen made as he shifted uncomfortably.

“Are you cold?” He asked, a touch of concern in his voice despite his pounding heart.

You shook your head in the same half motion as before, and something about the movement unsettled Stephen. But you were vulnerable, he told himself, trying to shake away his instincts. Stephen eyed you, weighing the situation for a long while before hesitantly sitting, slow and unsure back on the log he’d dragged over. He waved for you to come to him, his guard still up for the moment.

You came to the fire gratefully, nearly running to reach out and warm your hands over the flames. Stephen watched you all the while, trying to make sense of the strange woman before him.

“So what hole did you crawl out of?” He asked the bedraggled girl after a few minutes of silence had passed.

Your shiny eyes flicked up to him, but made no sign that you were going to answer. You were beautiful beneath the grime, Stephen noted. Wide eyes and smooth porcelain skin. It was a dangerous way to look in this world.

“Not much of a talker I see,” he drifted, and carefully removed the hot can from the flames. He was beginning to relax slightly. She’s just a young woman, he told himself again, a skinny one at that.

“Tell you what. You tell me your name and we can have dinner,” he said, tapping the pot.

It was your turn to look at him with an untrusting eye now, as if he had been the one to turn up at your camp in the middle of the night. Still, you gathered your breath to speak, as if you had not done so in a long time.

“(Y/N),” you said shortly.

“Stephen,” he nodded, and they returned to their silence.

He fished a worn plate and a couple dirty utensils from his backpack then, giving them a cursory scrub with his fingers. He poured out a small plate for you and passed it around the fire to you, keeping the pot for himself. You took it in your slender fingers and sat, placing the plate in your lap.

You two ate in silence, or at least Stephen did. Something was… off about you. You only seemed to want to push the stew around your plate, though you surely had to be hungry.

“You sick or something?” Stephen said gruffly, wiping a bit of food from his beard. He would not allow himself to fall ill, especially by the fault of a stranger. Woman, child or not, he would make you leave.

“No I just don’t like to eat this kind of stuff usually,” you said in a low, almost melodic voice.

Stephen stopped mid-chew upon hearing you speak, surprised not only by the amount you had spoken, but by the stark contrast between your sweet voice and your rough appearance. He swallowed hard.

“Well that’s too bad,” Stephen said, dipping his spoon back into the can, feeling a bit annoyed at you. “You can’t be too picky in this life,” he said and continued to eat.

“I picked you,” you said quietly.

Stephen wrinkled his brow, looking confusedly into his stew, trying to decipher what you had said.

“You picked me? What does that mean?” He asked, looking up at you through the flames.

His heart nearly stopped at the sight of you. You were on your feet and grinning at him with a wide, sinister smile. Your teeth gleamed in the light, white as pearls, sharp as knives.

"I mean I chose you," you said in that sweet, unsettling voice, your eyes dark against the light.

Stephen nearly choked and reached for his cloak, cursing that he had glamoured it as a handkerchief. When he righted himself not a second later he nearly jumped from his skin. You were standing beside him, somehow having reached him in complete silence.

“What the hell..” was all he managed before you were on him. You knocked him backwards off the log with a force that betrayed your looks, and Stephen hit the ground with a powerful thump, his pot of stew spilling out beside him. The cloak of levitation flew to protect Stephen however you used your mind to stop it mid-air like it was freeze-framed.

“I have died a thousand deaths, felt the pain of each and every one of them, yet the only thought to have passed through my mind every second of every minute, every day of every year, was of this hunger . . . the sweet blood that would satisfy it and the wonder of whose it would be.” Stephen feels a sharp sting at his neck, and the dry, chapped lips of this former woman, this undead, as you suck the blood from his vein.

Stephen tries to pull away, he tries to beat his fists against your chest. He struggled and screamed, gripping your freezing arms and trying vainly to detach you from himself. But it was no use. There is nothing he can do; he is held fast in your merciless embrace, his body paralyzed, his mind swimming in a daze. Still, he fought hard, kicking and writhing while you bit into him like an animal.

With each pull of blood you took, his strength was sapped more, and he soon felt himself fading from consciousness. He fought until he could no more, and with one last useless push, his arms fell to the cold ground around him.

Only then did you release, and Stephen watched you through his blackening vision. You looked down at him with that unnerving smile of yours, your pearly teeth stained red now.

It was the last thing Stephen saw before drifting into a swirling blackness. He could not see, but he could still feel a burn like nothing he’d ever known before. His veins were lit on fire, his neck felt as though it was going to melt off him. He wanted to writhe in agony, to scream but couldn’t make a sound, couldn’t move. He had no body, but he could still feel the pain. There was nothing else.

Until there was your voice. It echoed around him, seemingly from nowhere and everywhere.

“Your body will be undergoing mutation. . . you’ll feel better soon,” you said, soft and lilting, you nipped your lips to draw your own blood before leaving a kiss to Stephen that will surely bring him back to life.

The man’s bones bowed and bent, then shattered and split inside his arms and his legs. They popped like bottles breaking underwater, albeit the intensity of the sound was subdued since the red flesh was wrapped so tightly around them. His tongue, dry and cracked, swelled to fill his mouth as his eyes rolled into the back of his head, the purple veins sewn through the sclerae thick as butcher’s twine. The man that used to be human screamed without sound and saw without sight as his body contorted into jagged shapes and terrible glyphs, dissecting itself in wave after wave of purest suffering. He lay where he’d fallen, in a patch of pine needles, a thin pink froth leaking from the corners of his drawn, bloodless lips. He clenched his teeth until his jaw hurt. He was dying. This was what dying felt like.

Alone, Stephen started to weep. A great yawning fissure opened up inside him, cold and infinite, and he clutched at that emptiness, at that nothing, pleading for it to eat him all up and take his pain away. He would throw himself into the dark if it meant he didn’t have to feel this anymore. He heard the echo before he heard the voice, its sibilant edges creeping up the sides of that frozen inner chasm, slipping out in whispers and tendrils like smoke. The words assembled themselves in strange patterns inside his head, the syllables all out of order, the letters and sounds reversed; but still he heard, and understood.

Welcome to my world, Doctor Strange. Stephen tried to scream again but found it impossible, his throat locked up against the pain, unable to let any but a small, throttled noise escape. Veins stood out on his forehead. Tendons bulged in his neck like cords. The agony was brilliant, blinding.

Your voice reached out to him again, like a beam of white sunlight knifing through an eternal darkness. Not long now. Stephen ground his teeth to powder, feeling new ones grow into the ragged sockets, pearly white and razor sharp. The sound of cracking bones filled the forest around him, but there was a humming there too—as if he could hear his body knitting itself back together, assembling into something stronger and more terrible than he’d ever imagined.

He did not believe it. He was sure he would be stuck there forever, suspended in his own personal Hell, doomed to suffer for eternity. He screamed in silence for a time that was impossible to judge. It could have been years for all he knew, writhing all the while.

He stayed there for what felt like forever, until by some miracle the pain began to fade. It left him slowly at first, and then all at once, until it was nothing but a memory. He felt the endless darkness quiver and begin to fall apart around him.

When it was over, the warped Stephen could smell blood in the air, rising from the earth with the humidity in great, coppery clouds.

He found himself on the ground where he had died either a moment or a lifetime ago, he could not be sure. The only thing that he was sure of was you peering down at him, your sharp mouth still drenched in red, that wicked grin still spread across your face. In the distance, he could see a dying light surrounded by darkness, frail and red. He was already so, so hungry. His stalk-like legs didn’t make a sound as they whisked him into the dark.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

His throat burned with thirst, hunger was like an intrusive thought: something unpleasant, unwelcome and involuntary for a newly turned vampire which invaded his mind again and again.

Pictures go in flashes in his head: torn skin, nails driven into the flesh, blood splashing on the ceiling, his face buried into the oozing, squishy depths smelling with something like a slaughterhouse… Thoughts invade his head, they are so intense they make him flee in terror. He can run faster than the wind, jump on the walls, climb the rooftops, soar like a ghost, but no matter how fast he runs, he can’t escape these pictures. These moving pictures in his head.

A chuckle of a stranger caused Stephen to stop his tracks and before he knew it he was at a cemetery. A man stumbled and caught himself from falling on the ground. He sobered considerably when he realised he'd almost spilled onto the road's pavement. To emphasise the seriousness of the situation, a black sedan whizzed by in the lane nearest him, travelling many miles above the speed limit. It blared its horn at him. He stayed on the damp grass and continued his trek home, out of range of the sprinklers.

He saw a broad driveway ahead that was used to access the cemetery during daylight hours. Now, it was blocked by a tall iron gate, bordered on either side by a large marble statue of a lion. Sentries, the mused.

As he passed the last sprinkler, he moved back onto the concrete sidewalk. He gazed up at one of the lions as he passed the gate and shuddered as it seemed to return his stare, and then he turned his head forward as he saw more sprinklers ahead.

Stephen was now crouching next to the trunk of a massive pine tree growing beside the paved entryway inside the gate. It was close enough to the fence for it to peer out beyond its black iron bars and see the man approaching. Excitement began to course through his body and he readied himself in intense anticipation.

Stephen had leaped from the branch in one single, powerful jump. He waited for only a few moments atop the fence and then soundlessly fell to the ground on the stranger's side of the fence, directly behind him. The tipsy man sensed something behind him the moment Stephen descended to the sidewalk. He whirled around in confusion and alarm. He was scared, and his mind craved to know what danger had seemingly fallen from the sky.

A fog begins to collect then, rising from the still erupting earth like some ungodly steam. First it gathers only around the man, but then it spreads out from him, growing wider in a concentric circle configuration, fanning out until it covers the entire graveyard and begins to wrap around it in some kind of embrace.

Then he spotted Stephen’s full body silhouette, by now, he was panicking. His hands were trembling and his heart was pounding as he started to jog. After a while, when nothing more happened, the man slowed down to a walk. Just as he thought maybe he'd imagined those things. Suddenly, there was a chuckle from behind him.

He turned around to see a tall man smirking at him. He had long, jet black hair and, he was horrified to see, dangerous, blood red eyes.

“I'm sorry but you shouldn’t have stopped running.” Stephen advised. He cocked his head to the side and studied the man.

"Fuck off man!" He whirled around in the other direction and ran as fast as he could.

The man looked back to see where Stephen was and saw no one. He thought he had lost him but as he turned around, there Stephen stood, about three metres in front of him. The man swiftly turned to the left and sprinted through the cemetery. He ran for the cover of the trees and looked around when he got there. Stephen was gone again, but the man was still wary. Suddenly an ice-cold hand gripped his shoulder and pushed him into the tree.

Stephen slammed the man's face against the trunk of the tree, crushing the man's nose that it broke and blood dripped everywhere. Stephen spun him around to face him and pushed his back into the tree. The man looked up at Stephen and saw a hungry glint in his eye.

“Please let me go!” He pleaded. Stephen didn’t care, the scent of blood was all too consuming. Instead he opened his mouth to reveal two sharp, white fangs. The man screamed and Stephen grabbed his hair and pulled the man's head back, exposing his neck. Stephen then leaned in, the man cried out for help as agonising pain punctured his carotids.

Stephen's first victim took a deep, rib-cracking breath and howled out, "HELP! SOMEBODY PLEASE."

There was nothing but silence to greet his cries.

Stephen groaned as his thirst was quenched while the man began to limp. What remained of his humanity stopped him from sucking the man dry. Stephen stepped back when he regained his senses but it was mostly guilt.

He ran back to the man and applied pressure on his neck to stop the bleeding, "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry."

A sweet amused laugh rang into Stephen’s ears, "I admire your self control for a new born, Doctor."

A thin mist comes forth from the ground a few yards away and curls into the air, spinning for a brief second before growing solid and taking the form of a woman with a beauty he has never seen before

"You." Almost instantly Stephen had his bloodied hands latched around your throat, squeezing your ineffective windpipe with an iron grip while he smashed you on the ground. You had to admit to yourself that you felt your insides clenched at the sheer power you witnessed flowing through his frame.

Now that both of you are staring eye to eye, Stephen noticed that you looked completely different from before. You looked cleaner, more presentable. . . blessed with god-like beauty.

"Strangle me all you want, I have no need to breathe because I'm dead." You smile while you grip onto his wrist, bucking your pelvis up to meet his, trying to seduce him.

"You will pay for what you have done to me!" Stephen screamed at your face and attempting to kill you with a spell especially for vampires, but he hesitated.

You smirked, "Go on. Kill me." You seductively emphasised the word kill with your tongue, "Just like how you're wiping out all of my kind."

Stephen tried to cast his spell on you, only for it to fail. He tried again and again only for the spell to fail each time, "What?"

"You can keep killing other vampires, but you can't kill your maker, whether you want to or not. . . But I can kill you." Your smile broadens as wrath fills his features, "I figured that I'll be on the top of your kill list. Thought I should beat you to it."

"I will find a way to kill you."

"Sure." You pushed him off and he flew metres away from you. His expression was some-where between snarl and sneer when he sat up.

"Come on Strange! KILL ME." He flinched from your bellow, hesitated, glamoured up. Your eyes met. His eyes widened with surprise.

Suddenly you lurch at Stephen, grabbing him by the lapels, spinning him and slamming him into the mausoleum wall causing bricks to disassemble and fall.

With a look of pain Stephen pushes you away breaking your grip and retaliating with a flurry of punches. You duck and weave but the final punch connects with a sickening crunch causing you to momentarily lose your footing. As you fall you kick Stephen's legs away and springs back to your feet as Stephen crashes through headstones. He growled at his frustration that a young woman was beating him to a fight but then again, you were probably centuries old.

You move with great speed toward him, stamping your foot down trying to crush Stephen, causing him to scramble backwards, then placing his foot into your stomach, forcing you back across the graveyard.

As you haul yourself up you brace yourself for Stephen, who was in a fit of rage, he rushes toward you again, arms outstretched.

You can't out-react a newborn vampire any more than you out-run the fastest man. But you can anticipate. You stepped into the charge, raising an arm as if for a feeble block. Then you fell back, slapped down, a leg rising. Stephen ran on to it, swan-dived across you, struck the head stones hard.

"Give up, Doctor and I might teach you our ways." You teleported in front of him as he slumped against a headstone, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, "You are repulsed with what you've become, you don't want to repeat the hunts but if you do that, you'll become an actual monster."

"I wouldn't have to go through this if you hadn't turned me."

"One must do what it takes to survive, my sweet." You bent, and your tongue swept away his vampire blood across his wound on the side of his lip. Stephen couldn't move, he couldn't speak.

The worst part about it was that what you just did felt good. It felt possessive and immortal, he found himself no longer wanting to kill you.

"What did you just do to me?" Stephen blamed you for his sudden urge of desires towards you.

"I healed you." You said, as if it made you less so.

"I didn't ask for your help." He snapped.

"No, but you enjoyed it." You laughed seeing him snarl at you once more, only inches from him, your burning red eyes fixed on him, "Anger suits you, I like it—but alas, I'm done here, I just wanted to make sure you don’t cause much chaos. If you ever need me, just centre your thoughts on me and I'll find you. We're blood bound now."

You got up and patted your newest creation on the head—he was probably the first to despise you, “Oh and thanks for dinner.”

Bonus: Vampire Strange full size photo

#stephen strange x reader #stephen strange x you #doctor strange #stephen strange #stephen strange imagine #doctor strange imagine #dr stephen strange #doctor strange x you #doctor strange x reader #stephen strange fanfiction #doctor strange fanfic #mcu doctor strange #Spotify

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katherinewilliams221b · 7 months

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Our Time To Bloom

Chapter 7: The Serch Bythol

<Previous Chapter - All Chapters - Masterlist

Summary: Two months after the war, the couple is more distant than ever. Kate accompanies her grandfather on a trip to Ireland, where her past and present will collide in unexpected ways. Charlie stays in Romania with a decision to make: will he follow her and uncover all unsaid things? Romance/Drama /Mystery

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Charlie Weasley/Kate Williams (hphm mc, original female character) established relationship

7th, July, 1998

Hours later, after dropping off Kate at the station, Charlie perched himself against a wooden fence at the dragon sanctuary. Lost in thought, he observed as Soule, an older Romanian Longhorn, stretched its wings in the air. The dragon flew in circles, pirouetting through the clouds with the bravest birds joining in its dance.

What a coward you have been, mate, not to join in. And what a fool! You wanted to go! You still do... Bernard has both great humour and profound wisdom, maybe he was the right person to talk to. If you want to talk... Simply trying to pronounce Fred’s name out loud makes your throat close up.

Soule walked past the Sun creating his silhouette in the wind for an instant.

A twinge in his knee made him hiss, and suddenly the smell of smoke invaded his nostrils.

‘It’s normal in the sanctuary,’ he reminded himself, but he couldn’t help but find himself on Hogwarts’ ground, lying on the stones and feeling that same smell.

He clung tightly to the fence, unable to move. The image of the man appearing out of the fire, distorted, only his silhouette visible when lit from behind, slipped into his mind without permission. He had hit him in the knee, fortunately, but at that moment, helpless on the ground, he knew the stranger would not miss a second time.

He struggled to steady his breathing and with difficulty set his sights on the mountains in the distance. He imagined waterfalls and rivers, crystal-clear lakes and the reflection of clouds in their waters, paths overlooking the valley, patches of flowering bushes.

He managed to shake off the vision of his near-death by trying to imagine himself flying, soaring through the skies on a dragon. With the wind in his face and breathing clean air, seeing the world disappearing and getting smaller and smaller and smaller and smaller...

“You’re making my dragons nervous...”

A light tap on the shoulder accompanied the voice, which was just enough to make Charlie flinch and turn away from Sonia, bringing his hand to his hip unconsciously reaching for his wand.

“Sorry.” She said with sincerity in her eyes before leaning against the fence.

Charlie brought his hand to his hair, briefly massaging his head and undoing the small ponytail he wore. He leaned back against the wood next to his group leader.

They both stood in silence for a while, just watching the sky. Charlie’s heart started beating normally again, and he was able to take a deep breath. Still, he brought his hand to his opposite arm and started stroking his inner elbow with his thumb.

“Nervous?” Sonia asked without looking at him. “The lists go out the day after tomorrow.” She added at the look she saw out of the corner of her eye.

“A little.”

“The grant is yours, I have no doubt. And Razvan’s too. You are both very capable.” She said with a small smile.

“We’ll see if the folks at Apuseni feel the same way.”

“I’m sure they will.”

Absently, Charlie continued to make circles on his skin.

“Cool tat,” Sonia commented, looking at the pale skin on his arm. “I haven’t seen it on you before.”

“Oh...” He pulled his hand away to reveal the symbol he wore inked in black. “We only got it done last year...”

Sonia raised her eyebrows.

“Kate and I.”

“Damn. That’s bold. I don’t think I could get matching tattoos with a boyfriend. It’s usually contraindicated.” She laughed, coaxing a small smile from Charlie.

“Yeah, well, they’re not permanent. The guy who did it to us can take them off, too.” It dawned on Charlie that this was the first time anyone had noticed the symbol he was wearing, and that no one but Kate knew of its existence. Not even Razvan.

He moved a little closer to her, extending his left arm so she could see better, and began to follow the lines with his pinky.

“It is, in theory, a Celtic symbol made of two Trinity knots flipped to the side and fused together.” He traced the intricate lines from the horizontally pointing tips to the central circle. “The three points of the knots represent the soul: mind, body and spirit, as well as the circle of life. The two knots maintain their individuality, but when intertwined, they create a perfect circle, symbolising the endless unity between two souls.” He recited as he had been told. He focused on the dragons again, less solemn, remembering with a smile the tale they were told when that man was tattooing Kate.

“It’s really just one interpretation, there’s no factual information about it that we know,” he chuckled" but we loved that story so much we adopted it as our own."

When Sonia didn’t comment on it, he kept going,

“It’s called a Serch Bythol. In Celtic Welsh language, serk means Love, and beeth-ohl means everlasting.”

“I wouldn’t have imagined in a million years that you two were corny as hell!” They shared a laugh at her teasing. Charlie was grateful that she took the weight out of his words.

“Oh, come on, be easy on me, boss, I’m opening my heart for you here.” He said half-joking.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” They chuckled again, watching as Soule landed on a tree. “I don’t suppose you got it one night completely smashed in some dude’s basemen…”

“No! Of course not!” He laughed.

“Right…”

“No, we…” he tapped it again absent-mindedly, “it was purely for practical reasons, I assure you.”

He stared at the black ink, praying for it to stay black.

“When the other is in danger, it glows red.”

A look of understanding erased the smirk on Sonia’s eyes. She avoided his stare, focusing on the landscape ahead.

“I always wondered how you knew… That you had to leave Romania that day.”

It scared me so much, the way it burned, he thought. I didn’t know where she was until I received her letter. It didn’t have an envelope or a seal. I couldn’t even recognise her handwriting.

He nodded.

A moment of silence passed between them and left Charlie contemplating his future, his plans. Seeing Soule come down from the sky to take a nap by the rocks made him realise he wasn't meant for anything else. This was the life he hoped for in his teens, and the life he wanted to cultivate. If not dragons, what else? But did it need to be in Romania?

These mountains were his dream since he was a child and he was comfortable here, perhaps too much. He wondered if leaving this place, this group of people he could now call friends would feel like a betrayal. To them and himself.

But then he thought of her.

She had worked as hard as him to get into St Mungo’s hospital as a mere apprentice. And she left for him. To follow him here. She got far as a healer in Bucharest’s hospital. And she left for a cause she believed in. She had been offered a position as a herbology teacher once. And she declined for the same reason.

Maybe it was time to return the favour.

Perhaps, after the Apuseni program, if he was chosen to go, it could be the last thing Romania could offer him and that dream he had as a child wasn’t the end of the line but the beginning.

Before the war, they hadn’t discussed much about their plans for a future away from this place, they both had secure positions, a home and they were content with that. He never dared to dream further from that.

Then the war happened, and they were forced to do things they never imagined they could be capable of. And that tranquil life they had shattered along with their possibilities.

Now that it was over, he thought, after everything that they went through, it was time for new dreams.

Kate was in the picture, he used to be sure of it. Now, he hoped.

“Sonia…”

“Hm?” She began putting on her fireproof gloves.

“May I get… some time off?”

The dragon tamer stared at him with an unreadable expression. She seemed to be registering his question as confusion appeared on her face.

“You shouldn’t. Not right before the program starts.”

“After that, it may be too late.” She kept silent and continued to secure her gear. “I think,” he insisted, “I could catch up later, I’m sure. I’m a fast learner. Two weeks tops.”

“Two weeks!”

“Sonia, please. I never take breaks, you know this. I never even quit when all of that happened,” he added, referring to the war. She sighed.

“I know. I just don’t want you to lose this opportunity.”

“I won’t.”

She thought for a moment and then clicked her tongue. “At least stay until the first day.”

“Of course!”

“Hey!”

Both dragonologists turned at the sound of Razvan’s voice, who flew towards them with a frown.

“Am I the only one who works around here or what? We’re supposed to start the scouting in three minutes!”

“Yes,” Sonia added with a nod towards Charlie, “let’s go.”

Muddy and sweaty, Charlie apparated in front of his house after an afternoon in the forest. He took off his boots before entering the cabin and made his way to the bathroom for a warm and much needed shower.

After cleaning himself, he stepped out of the bathtub in time to hear scratches on the other side of the door.

“Just wait a moment, Grimoire!”

Charlie imagined the condescending expression of Kate’s cat as it sat in their bedroom.

He opened the door with a towel around his hips just so the animal would stop the assault at the door.

“When Kate’s not here, you become an insufferable pain in the ass.” He accused, changing into a shirt and tracksuit bottoms. Grimoire mewled, clearly letting him know that the sentiment was mutual.

After satiating both appetites, Charlie left the cabin and, using a ladder, checked the rooftop for any sign of Whiskey.

He found the owl sound asleep in the small wooden house he had built for him. The redhead frowned and checked his watch. It was late.

While climbing down, he reminded himself that it meant nothing that Kate hadn’t sent a letter. She was probably having fun with her grandpa. Right?

“Yes. She arrived safe and sound.” He said to Grimoire as he entered again.

He made his way to the kitchen counters, hoping that the routine of putting a kettle on would calm his nerves. He instantly felt better as soon as the tea touched his lips, but the nervousness of what would he say to her and, most importantly, how would she react to seeing him there, remained.

Stopping the spiralling train of thought, he gasped.

Her birthday!

He used to be more thoughtful than that, he thought, but the stress of the war and going back to tons of work at the reserve had left him with no energy to think about presents.

The incorporation to the Apuseni program, if that ever happened, would leave him no time to search for something appropriate. He only had tomorrow to figure it out.

Against all odds and without warning, Grimoire jumped on the seat next to him and, tentatively, rested his head on Charlie’s thigh.

“I know,” he sighed, scratching behind the cat’s ear, “I miss her too. You’ll be fine here on your own? I guess you must. Razvan will come, you know him, to check on you.”

He paused, sipping his tea.

“I don’t even know where to start with her…”

He would get to… Cobh? But where exactly? And even if he found her, how would he manage to put in order the things he should say?

Eyeing the coffee table, he saw some random papers scattered around. With a flick of the wrist, a quill and inkwell floated towards him as he set the cup down. With a determined breath, he started writing.

My dearest,

I don’t know if I will have the courage to show you this letter. Maybe I’ll burn it after I’m finished, maybe I will hide it until I’m ready, or maybe I will be able to speak my mind to your face. You deserve as much, and so much more.

My heart stings every time I come home at night. I watch the lights on the tower where you hide from me and I feel as a failure for not being able to reach you. You’ve closed your mind, only to me? Do I hurt you so that you’ve kept your thoughts to yourself?

I talk to Razvan sometimes, about you and I, about what happened, about Fred if my voice doesn’t betray me. He listens, he tries, and I’m grateful to have found a little solace in his friendship, but he is not the person I burn to reconnect with again.

I miss my best friend, my companion.

Is it because I remind you of your own brother, Jacob, that you can’t find it in your heart to speak to me?

I hear you cry some nights. I know about your nightmares. Often I hold you, selfishly hoping you will wake and hug me back. I don’t know what haunts your dreams, I can imagine, but it feels strange in my stomach that you can’t trust me how you used to.

I guess I’ve been guilty of that too, but for different reasons. There is no one else I would trust with my life but you, but I’m afraid I’ve become a burden to you. I find it difficult to know where I stand, where the limits are, how I should act around you.

But I’ve learnt today, the hard way, after seeing you part from me for the umpteenth time and after observing the creatures that roam these mountains, that my approach has been completely off.

You are not a dragon. Never have been and never will. They come and go or they don’t, they can fly, spit fire, the most absolute chaos can burst in any second, destroying everything around them. To be on good terms with them again, you need to sit still and wait. Make yourself as little of a threat as possible.

But you, my love, you are a feline, and cats can sense when one is not confident enough to handle them. So they scurry away. A change of attitude it’s what’s needed or you’ll just see their tails as they leave the room.

All of this to say I hope you will forgive me.

Once I told you, as you lay in my arms, I whispered to you it would be only fair to follow where you lead.

And now I intend to keep my promise, because it was one, whether you know it or not.

Although I should have been quicker to say it,

I accept your offer, if you’ll have me, and I’ll reunite with you in Ireland if I manage to find where you are.

If after these weeks you still seek a life away from here without me, at least I’ll know that my last decision regarding you wasn’t a disappointment or one that I’ll regret.

But for all it’s worth, I want to start dreaming with you again.

With all the love I can possibly keep in my heart,

Charlie.

Before folding the letter, and with utmost care, he drew with his quill a Serch Bythol at the end of the page, hoping she would understand the meaning behind it.

His heart felt lighter, somehow, having put into words his intentions and motives and, he realised as he lifted the quill, that he hoped for her to read it. When the envelope was closed, he placed a kiss on it.

With Grimoire’s head resting on his thigh and a steaming cup in hand, he stared out of the window, watching the trees sway with the wind. He took a deep breath and enjoyed for the first time in months a quiet afternoon in solitude.

A/N. A short one but very much needed, if anyone still cares :) It’s hard writing these days

Next chapter >

#charlie weasley #charlie weasley fanfiction #charlie weasley x jacob's sibling #charlie weasley x oc #charlie weasley x ofc #charlie weasley x kate williams #ottb #our time to bloom

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i-can-even-burn-salad · 2 years

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Chapter 25

Glass Shards

Warnings: Lady whump, blood, lots of angst on both sides

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Merridy peered through the branches of the hedge and up to the sky. Watching the clouds drift by made her nervous. Although she couldn’t see the exact position of the sun, it seemed to be very late in the morning. The portal to Dragon’s Reach was only active before noon. She couldn’t waste any more time. If only the bleeding would stop already.

When she finally couldn’t see any fresh blood on her sleeve, she pulled her cap over her forehead and stood up. She made sure no one was around as she staggered out of the hedge and stepped into the street. After only a few steps, she had to lean against a house wall and catch her breath. Her chest would surely bruise horribly, if it hadn’t already. Each breath felt like needles piercing her lungs.

Slowly she dragged herself along, and when she saw a yard with a barrel of rainwater in it she stumbled towards it and dipped her hands into it. She resisted the temptation to drink from it, washing only her face and sleeve. The blood stains would not come out of the latter, so she simply turned the fabric inside out instead. After the surface had calmed down again, she examined her reflection in the dark water. With her thumb, she wiped away another trace of blood, before she was satisfied. Then she tucked escaped strands of hair back under her cap and adjusted her clothes.

Merridy left the yard and tried to orient herself. The house of the Lightwood’s wasn’t too far from the portal in the palace garden in the center of the city, but she didn’t know how late in the morning it was. She tried to run, but the stabbing in her chest quickly became unbearable. She had no choice, she had to slow down and catch her breath. The sun was standing so high already. If only she’d make it before noon. Cursing every single cart and every person blocking her way, she hurried through the streets.

Shaking from exhaustion and out of breath, she finally arrived at the portal — just as it was shut down to be tuned to another city for the afternoon. Merridy couldn’t prevent the disappointment from crossing her face as she stared at the empty circle. So close. If only she had managed to run a bit faster. Reaching for a nearby wall, she tried to steady herself as the sudden despair left her knees weak and her head all dizzy.

“Well, you’re in quite a hurry, boy. Where do you think you’re going?”

Merridy turned around and found herself face to face with a city guard. The guard, while not unfriendly, eyed her with undisguised curiosity.

“I wanted to go to… Dragon's Reach,” she answered between two gasping breaths, glad that her voice was so toneless. He would hardly notice that it didn’t quite match her appearance as a boy.

“On what business?” she was further quizzed.

Had she checked her fingers for blood? She couldn’t remember. As stealthily as possible, she tried to wipe them against her pants, knowing very well that it would be pointless. If there was any blood, it was long dried.

The guard looked from her to her hands, shaking at her sides, half hidden between folds of fabric. Brows furrowed. Something crinkled. The letter. The letter! With trembling fingers, she pulled it out, waved it briefly, and then quickly put it away again. “I have to… deliver a letter for my master. He’ll be furious,” Merridy tried to provide a believable reason for her haste and visible desperation.

It seemed to work. For a moment the guard’s features relaxed, but then his colleague stepped forward. Now it was his turn to scrutinize her, but his gaze was way less friendly.

“Aren’t you a bit late for that? Everyone knows the portals are turned off at noon. Besides, you look like you crawled through some hedges on your way here.”

Merridy thought feverishly. With every moment that passed, she became more suspicious. “I— I…” she stammered softly, “I lost… track of time.” Think. She had to think. “There was this maid,” she blurted out, lowering her gaze to the ground, as if ashamed. “She… we…”

The two men laughed. “Well, I hope she was worth it, my boy. You won’t get to Dragon's Reach before tomorrow,” one of them sneered. “Why don’t you go back to your maid and let her comfort you, before your master whips your ass.”

The tears on Merridy’s cheeks were from relief rather than from expecting some imaginary master’s imaginary punishment. They were enough to make the guards laugh again.

With her head bowed, Merridy crept away, forcing herself to walk slowly and with hanging shoulders until she disappeared around a corner. Only then did she dare to lean against a wall with trembling legs. Close, that had been so close. Damien would be sick with worry if she didn’t come back, but she couldn’t help that now. It had been the thought of him that had driven her to hurry. She should not have risked appearing at the portal in her condition. She should have returned to Cedric’s house instead and waited for the next day. This was the second mistake she had made in the last twenty-four hours. Surely this wouldn’t have happened to her a year ago. She really had to pull herself together.

After closing her eyes for just a moment, she realized that she had almost blacked out. She was so incredibly tired, and when she opened her eyes again, everything around her was spinning. Now that the tension was leaving her, she could barely stay on her feet. What was she supposed to do now? A sob rose in her throat as she realized there was no way she’d make it back to Cedric’s house like that.

She needed some place to hide. Desperately, she dragged herself further, from the busy street into a narrow alley, then into an even narrower one. It didn't take long for her to lose her orientation. Her mouth was so dry, her throat aching, but there was no well or fountain. Just rubble and trash, all over the place. Merridy couldn’t even say if she was still in the Vandaya district. She climbed over rags and broken scraps of wood, bracing herself against the walls of the houses to keep from simply collapsing. Her heart was beating up to her throat and the rising fear made her look around nervously all the time. She wasn’t even sure what she was afraid of. She was far away from the portal and the guards, and she seemed to be completely alone, yet she could barely breathe. A place to rest. A safe place. That was all she could think of.

Finally she found a house entrance with a boarded-up door, in front of which old crates and empty barrels were piled up. There was just enough space between them for her to curl up on the floor. She stuffed a few of the rotten rags lying around into the spaces between and hoped that no one would see her. Bedding her head on her arm, she couldn’t hold back the tears any longer. It was silly. She’d be fine. It was just a little delay. But she was cold and scared and tired, and right now, shivering between trash and cold stones, she wished nothing more than for Damien to be with her.

* * *

Damien set out to wait at the portal square at dawn. The fact that Merridy had not returned the previous day had caused him little concern. He knew that she would have had very little time before noon to gather all the information and return to the portal before it was tuned to another city.

But today hour after hour passed without her appearing as well. At first he stayed in the immediate vicinity of the portals, pacing restlessly, watching each traveler who arrived. After an hour or two, as he began to slowly attract attention, he settled on a bench two dozen steps away. As on most days, the early stream of travelers and merchants had slowed down after a while. With every new arrival, Damien raised his head, full of hope, and every time it wasn’t her his worry grew. The sun reached its highest point and moved on, and still there was no sign of Merridy. Damien was aware that the portal was long out of tune with Caldeia, but he continued to wait. What else could he have done? He couldn’t just leave.

At some point it became dark and he had to realize that Merridy would not be coming back today. With nightfall, the portals were completely deactivated until the next morning, and the previously lively place lay completely deserted within minutes. Nevertheless, Damien did not move at first. It was the dragon guard, giving him pointed looks every time they passed him on their rounds, who eventually made him get up. His limbs had become stiff from sitting for so long, and his throat was so dry that he could hardly swallow. Had he drunk anything at all since he sat down? He couldn’t remember. He reached for the waterskin hanging from his belt, which felt suspiciously full. When he tried to loosen it he realized his hand was shaking. He’d have to get away from the guard first, before dealing with that.

Head hanging low, Damien left the square and walked a few steps into the first street he came across. When he was sure he was out of sight, he paused, leaning against a wall to start a second attempt to grab and open the waterskin. After taking a sip that didn’t come close to washing away the bitter taste in his mouth, he made his way back to the inn. As if in a trance, he followed the familiar route through the alleys and only realized he had arrived when his feet simply stopped. On the way up, he clutched the key and then just stood in front of the door for minutes without opening it. When he finally entered the room it seemed so quiet, so completely lifeless. He didn’t bother to turn on a light or ignite a fire in the fireplace. It was not the brightness or warmth that was missing, but the life with which Merridy had filled the room.

He took off his shoes and sank onto the bed. There was a pile of blankets at the bottom end, where Merridy had dropped hers carelessly in the morning, too excited for her adventure. The one he pulled close still smelled of her, only very slightly. When he buried his face in it he could almost hear her laughing and tears came to his eyes. It was because of him that she had gone. To look for his brother. In the city that had become dangerous for her because of him. Again and again she had assured him that it wouldn’t be a problem for her, but what if something had happened to her? What if she was in danger or hurt or scared, and he had no way to get to her, no way to help her?

“What kind of fucking friend am I?” he whispered into the silent room.

If he had thought he had even the slightest chance, he would have gone to Caldeia himself. But he was still guaranteed to be wanted, and even his best deception would be of no use to him. Portal guards had ways of dissolving illusions, and since the portal of Caldeia was located in the middle of the palace district, security was especially tight there. They were likely to discover him, to arrest him, and he’d be no closer to helping Merridy than he was now. So he was condemned to wait idly in Dragon's Reach and hope that the research had only proved more difficult than she had thought.

That night Damien did not find much sleep. Again and again he woke up, shaking from nightmares he could only partially remember. He saw Merridy being pursued, calling out to him, but he could hear nothing, only saw the movement of her lips. Another time he dreamed of seeing her in the dungeon, in his place, barely alive and covered in blood, and when he woke up he felt so sick that he took the precaution of pulling the chamber pot out from under the bed. After that, he did not dare to go back to sleep, but lay awake until the first glow of dawn found its way through the window.

Even before the sun had fully risen, he set out. Today. He would wait one more day, he swore to himself, then he would go and look for her, consequences be damned.

To keep himself from wandering restlessly back and forth in the square, he sat down on a low wall. So early in the morning, not many people came through the portals yet; only a few merchants left the luminous circles and headed for the numerous marketplaces. An hour passed and he felt his restlessness growing. Just as he had once again jumped up to take a few nervous steps, a single figure stepped out of the portal. He paused and eyed them. At first he thought it couldn’t be her; their bent-over posture and dragging step had nothing in common with the light-footed way Merridy usually moved. But then he recognized the much too large woolen cap and jacket he had mocked. Immediately, he ran towards her, freezing in his tracks as soon as he could see her better. The strands that peeked out from under the cap were disheveled, her clothes were dirty and when she looked up he could see that her eyes were dark with pain.

“Merry! By the gods, what happened?” Damien extended a hand in her direction, not daring to finish the movement.

Some stains on her jacket were the reddish-brown color of dried blood, and the skin on her temple was dark blue with bruises. Merridy started to reach for it, then thought better of it and let her hand sink again.

“If you think that’s bad, you should see the others.”

Her words seemed to crush his chest. He swayed as his knees buckled. She had been attacked. She had been attacked and he had been unable to help her. He should never have accepted her help. He should never have let her go alone. It was his fault. His fault. His fault.

“Damien. Damien. Can you hear me? I’m sorry, it was a joke. Damien! I just fell.”

As if in slow motion, his brain pieced together her words, tried to comprehend them. Fell? It made no sense. Her shoulder was under him, holding him up where his legs had failed him, and she had closed both her hands around his.

“Let’s get out of here, people are already staring,” she urged him.

Willlessly, he let her lead him, and only when they had already left the portal square far behind did the movement spark his thoughts to life. He noticed that even now she was walking hunched over, with uneven steps and one arm pressed against her chest.

“Merry, wait,” he begged her, stopping so that his hand slipped from her grasp.

She also stopped and looked at him questioningly. Breathing seemed to be difficult for her and single drops of blood were now seeping out from under her cap, leaving a bright red trail on her cheek. He studied her face but found no fear, only exhaustion and pain. Damien took a deep breath and pulled himself together. He needed to know what had happened to her, but there would be time enough for questions later. The sooner they got to their room, the sooner he could take care of her.

“Sorry. There’s time for that later. Let’s keep moving. Let’s get you home.”

[ID: The top image is a banner covered in colorful glass shards. Across it is written the title of the story, glass shards, in a white to bright cyan gradient with a black outline. The font looks like written with a broad paintbrush. All other images in this post are purely ornamental lines. End ID.]

Tagging: @dont-touch-my-soup @kixngiggles @starlit-hopes-and-dreams

#Glass Shards #whump #fantasy whump #lady whump #my writing

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museguided · 11 months

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@shrapnelsong sent: "Miss Shenhe!" Spotting the shine of her gorgeous silver hair had Alice exclaiming the woman's name almost without meaning to. "I was hoping to see you today." The doctor rushed over to her side with a smile, hands still full of the violetgrass flowers she'd come to Liyue to collect. Taking the time to carefully set them in neat rows, she retrieved the wrapped bento box occupying the rest of the space in the basket of medicinal plants. "I made these for you." Opening the lid to showcase a selection of onigiri with different fillings and toppings. "These are a popular light snack in Inazuma, so I figured they might be to your liking?" Or at least a better alternative to her usual diet. Ever since learning that Shenhe ate mostly herbs, Alice's already strong, natural urge to feed all the people she cares for became all consuming.

Thick silver spilled over her shoulder, her comb gliding slow through the strands that deepened in hue toward the ends. The summer heat that had been brutal during her training had cooled immensely as the sun began its descent. The body of water she came across ran crystal clear, beckoning her to take a dip and join the fish that swam there. Her hair remained damp as she watched the gentle waves lap at the shore and listened to the birds' last song.

A voice familiar to her, yet foreign to these lands, caught her attention and she quickly stood to greet her guest. "Miss Alice," she echoed fondly, only briefly hesitating to wonder about acceptable formalities between friends. "Good evening." Iridescent eyes dropped to the basket she held, lighting up at the sight of the flowers and a strange box that made her head tilt with curiosity.

"Another gift, is it?" She started to become familiar with Alice's antics, though it was still a pleasant surprise when they were directed at her. Once again, Shenhe stood empty-handed save for the spear she could materialize and the comb stuck in her hair. But rather than struggle through complications of awkward communication, she understood that it was easier to simply accept her generosity for the time being.

"Inazuma... the nation across the sea, right?" Born in a village around the corner from the bustling Liyue Harbor and raised in the mountains her whole life, she hadn't bothered to learn much beyond its borders. Examining each rice ball, Shenhe reached out and delicately plucked one with a plum on its back, digits shifting against the slightly sticky texture. She murmured her thanks, distracted by the unassuming snack before taking a bite and humming at the sour, salty taste flooding her tastebuds. "They're more... mm, flavorful than they look," she commented, deciding to take another one to compare them. It was on par with the more aromatic herbs she had before, made special by Alice's own hands. "I'm sure my master would appreciate these as well."

Her stomach would settle with the two she held, for now. Her appetite was not unlike a bird's, satisfied with a few bites at a time. "There's still some time before dark," she noted, turning her gaze to the still waters reflecting the warm light. "It's very peaceful here. Would you like to join me for a while longer?"

When she returned to the mountain peak, she would make certain to ask Cloud Retainer for advice on gift-giving. With her love of mechanical engineering, perhaps she could make a device useful to Alice. But that conclusion left her unsatisfied, knowing she couldn't depend on the adepti's answers for everything human if she wanted to return to that society. More than that, she would like to invite Alice to her new home near the harbor. She would love to share more proper meals with her.

#shrapnelsong #(ic. Shenhe)#(ask. unprompted)#(answers this 84 years later ajsdkf)#(she's gonna take alice home and show her the herbs she grows on her own #and they'll have a nice herb salad or her signature heartstring noodles uwu)

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drew-mga2022mi6021 · 3 months

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World Building | The Physical World in Detail

Sri Lanka - Uvin Gunasena

With the main character and the story completed, I could now move on to fleshing out the rest of the world. Worldbuilding for this project was not too complex, as I wasn't starting from scratch. Taking a real-world fantasy approach was the smarter move, as I was focusing on an alternate historical take on Sri Lanka which resulted in a move to a pseudo-solarpunk society.

Previously, I briefly went over the geography and climate of Sri Lanka, which is ultimately the basis for my world. In this post, I want to further dig into the general and physical aspects of this world.

Was Sri Lanka always the way it is now? If not, what caused the change?

Sri Lanka is an island nation, and as such is rich in biodiversity. Not much of this would have changed from the past to the present in which the story takes place, as this society also prides itself on its respect for nature.

How much of the world needs to be shown to support the story?

This project takes an almost heterotopic approach, set in a world (Colombo) within a world (Sri Lanka). Elements of the greater world of Sri Lanka would be present within the story, but will not be important to it, instead relegated to visual nuggets of information throughout the film as animated set pieces. Essentially, only the main character's office and a part of the city of Colombo needs to be shown in order to convey the story in full.

How does the terrain influence the story?

Colombo's geography is a mix of land and water. The city has many canals (man made and natural) and is most famous for what is considered the heart of the city, the Beira Lake. During the Monsoonal Seasons, these canals overflow, however due to Sri Lanka's advanced system of water distribution and irrigation, this water is never wasted.

The influence of the natural terrain on the story is minimal. Since the setting is industrialised, the main terrestrial influence would come from the way the city is built. Particularly focusing on the main market district, Pettah. Pettah is known for its interconnected alleys and roads chock-full of people. This would be reflected in my own version of the market district, only busier. The story would take place at the crack of dawn. This varies on the month. In my research, I found that most people quit their jobs in November, so I thought that was a good timeframe to set my story in. Thus, this would be during the early stages of the North East Monsoonal season. The sunrise is generally visible beginning from 6.00 a.m in Colombo, which means the story would take place before this.

The best deals are always available at 5.30 in Pettah. This fact is rooted in real life, and is also due to the steady supply of crops and other perishable goods into Pettah at the wee hours of the morning. Thereby it would be the most crowded at that time, adding even more challenges for my protagonist to push through.

What is the weather like and does it impact your story?

The weather does not impact my story greatly, however at the time the film takes place, it is during the North East Monsoon. Which is to say, it would be very windy and somewhat cloudy, however not cloudy enough to blot out the sun. Because of this, people would not dress as light as they usually wood, gravitating towards longer sleeves and clothing that covers the majority of their skin. They also carry umbrellas and raincoats on hand just in case of a sudden shower.

How many mountains, oceans, deserts, forests?

The geography of this version of Sri Lanka is identical to our own, with the caveat that these places are much more protected due to a greater emphasis on environmental conservation. As Sri Lanka is an island, it itself is situated in the Indian Ocean. In Colombo, the terrain is mostly flat, with some slopes that appear moving inland. Small bodies of water such as Diyawanna Oya (a lake upon which the parliament is built) remain unchanged, however they are used more often as a means of transportation. In 2018, an initiative to start funding water buses to ferry people across the Beira Lake began, to little success. In this world, this idea started much earlier and flourished through the use of solar-powered boats.

Colombo does not contain any forests per se, however there are three wetland parks scattered across the Rajagiriya area; Beddagana, Diyasaru and Rampart. These are particularly important as they have been actively used to promote the healthy lifestyle of the residents. More than 20 km of walkways and jogging paths have been built around wetlands in Colombo, incorporating them as part of public infrastructure bringing the wetlands close to public life. Colombo wetlands also play a critical role in the food security of the city. Due to the strong linkage between the city and its wetland complex, in 2018, Colombo City was declared the first capital to be accredited as an International Wetland City by Ramsar. There are no deserts in Colombo.

Where are the borders?

Colombo is bordered by the Indian Ocean to the West. The Northern and North-Eastern border of the city is formed by the Kelani River, which meets the sea as a river delta. The Eastern sect is bordered by the Ratnapura district of the Sabaragamuwa Province and the Southern Border is Kalutara of the Western Province.

Additionally, the city of Colombo itself is divided into 15 numbered areas for the purposes of postal services. Within these areas are the suburbs with their corresponding post office. This reflects the nature of Colombo in real life.

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19761107 · 8 months

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『Free Willy』～Parents Must only one thing ”I love you because you are you."～

1.Introduction

《Famous lines I want to tell you》

☆Glen: The simple reason that you can't have more than one love in your life…☆ 55：53～56：13

Background: Glen's line about letting go of his favorite classic car because he decided to use his affection, time and money for the person he cares about.

《Beautiful camera scene that I want you to see》

☆The scene where the moonlight reflects on the water surface and Willy calmly carries Jesse, who has fallen into the aquarium, to the surface☆ 31：11～33：11

2.Work introduction

This work tells the story of Jesse, a boy abandoned by his mother, who opens his heart to society and grows into an adult through emotional contact with a killer whale who was also separated from his family.

This is a work I would especially like to see for people who grew up without parents, who were constantly ignored, who were constantly interfered with, or who were abused when they were children.

I currently have a 4-month-old kitten, and he has been separated from his parents since he was born.

The kitten always comes closer to me, asking for physical contact.

Once he feels safe, he will start playing at a distance.

During this time, he will keep glancing at me to confirm the whereabouts of their guardians, and once he knows that he is safe, he will play around again innocently.

I have cats that are about a year old, and although they don't approach me very closely, they are always within 10 ft of me, lying down and grooming themselves while making sure they are safe.

I think that over time, their scope will expand and they will be able to act freely.

I think it's the same for humans.

This is a work that shows us how important that kind of contact is.

3.Orca family

The opening scene of the film begins with the camera showing a beautiful orca swimming majestically.

A large black fin appears on the sea surface.

A huge orca dances inside in the spray of water called zabaan.

All around them, the glittering waves were glowing orange under the setting sun.

The joyful sounds of a pod of killer whales swimming along with the sounds of seagulls.

The camera then takes pictures of the underwater world.

A killer whale and its baby are surrounded by many jellyfish and are twisting their huge bodies around.

Countless curtain-like lights shine into the sea from the sky.

Then, the men looking through binoculars and the hidden ship appeared, and the loud sound of the propeller and the metallic sound of the sailors chasing the killer whale resounded, surrounding the killer whale.

The killer whale family screams.

Then, the one killer whale was separated from his family and captured by humans.

4.A boy named Jesse

The scene changes, and the main character, a young boy named Jesse, tricks tourists at a tourist spot and becomes a beggar.

At a restaurant for tourists, Jesse and his take customers' leftovers from their tables.

Jesse briefly makes eye contact with a boy around the same age.

He felt envious of him because he was surrounded by his family, and he also felt pitiful, wondering what he was like.

Jesse's anxious face is shown to the audience, similar to the final scene of Director François Truffaut's ”Adults Don't Understand.”

Jesse's mother disappeared from Jesse's eyes six years ago.

He was abandoned.

Still, children don't think badly of their parents.

He can never admit that his mother abandoned him because it would make him miserable and deny his own existence.

Still, deep down he is deeply hurt.

Raised in an orphanage, he repeatedly ran away and became a delinquent.

He lives a life surrounded by bad friends while repeating crimes.

One night, Jesse and his friends run into an aquarium while being chased by the police.

By graffitiing the aquarium's bleachers with colored spray paint, Jesse fills the emptiness that cannot be filled.

There, he stumbles across a killer whale.

He was fascinated by the huge killer whale and was arrested by the police.

After the trial, he was sent to a juvenile detention center, but all he had to do was erase the graffiti on the aquarium.

Dwight, a black police officer who takes great care of Jesse, comes to pick him up.

ーーーーーーーーーー

Dwight: You were lucky this time.

I kept your behind out of court.

You have to clean up the mess you made at Northwest Adventure Park.

That is your probation. Any problems?

Jesse: Yes. Why should I clean it?

Dwight: But you split out again here,and I am out of the picture.

You'll be with Youth Authority.

Court supervised and controlled.

They'll put you in baby jail.

That means a lockup in juvenile hall.

Jesse: So?

Dwight: Your placement is still on.

The Greenwoods don't mind this incident.

Jesse: What's wrong with them?

Dwight: Because they want you in their home, there's something wrong with them, right?

Jesse: What do you think?

Dwight: I think that on paper, you're still real young, so you get some chances.

Not an infinite number of chances, but a few.

A few, son. You get it?

You got any questions about any of this?

ーーーーーーーーーー

The adults around him are very kind.

Dwight is aware of his situation and is trying to save Jesse by helping him and offering him a foster home.

ーーーーーーーーーー

Jesse: You hear from my mom?

Dwight: You still want me to hear from your mom?

Jesse: I just want to know if she's okay.

Dwight: Nobody's heard from your mom in six years, Jesse. ーーーーーーーーーー

Jesse keeps waiting for his mother to come pick him up.

Jesse, who unconsciously carries with him the fact that his mother abandoned him, is hostile towards society.

He was an extension of his mother, who had abandoned him, and considered everyone around him to be his enemy.

His mother didn't acknowledge his existence, he felt inferior to himself, and he couldn't trust everyone.

Jesse believes his mother will come for him.

If he doesn't think so, Jesse's own existence will disappear.

Because his self-esteem becomes empty.

Jesse's heart is in crisis.

5.Unknown foster parents

Jesse then applies to become a foster parent, and he ends up living together under a temporary contract.

This is his first meeting with his foster parents.

ーーーーーーーーーー

Annie: Hi, Jesse

Glen: There he is.

ーーーーーーーーーー

Glen holds out his hand to Jesse.

Jesse reluctantly reached out and shook his hand.

ーーーーーーーーーー

Glen: Can I carry your stuff?

Jesse: No.

ーーーーーーーーーー

Jesse strongly refused

ーーーーーーーーーー

Annie: Why don't we go inside and wash up. and we'll have dinner.

ーーーーーーーーーー

Glen and Dwight sign the paperwork.

ーーーーーーーーーー

Glen: Well, this is a lease.

I ain't buying yet.

ーーーーーーーーーー

It's like determining whether a child will fit in with the house, what their personality is like, etc.

The foster couple, Glen and Annie, are a very kind couple.

ーーーーーーーーーー

Annie: You interested in computers?

Jesse: No.

Annie: I could teach you.

I learned last summer.

Jesse: I'm not into it.

Glen: That makes two of us.

ーーーーーーーーーー

Refuses to interact with people.

Jesse eats the prepared dinner like a stray dog.

ーーーーーーーーーー

Glen: What exactly are you into?

Jesse: I'm not into talking while I eat.

ーーーーーーーーーー

Jesse pinches Glen and Annie.

Glen and Annie looked at each other, feeling helpless.

6.Warmth he've never felt before

Jesse was shown to his room.

ーーーーーーーーーー

Glen: Here's your room.

Annie: Our bedroom's downstairs, but you've got the best view in the house.

ーーーーーーーーーー

It was a warm room with a view of the sunset and the sea.

On the bed were clean clothes, new high-top Nike sneakers, and a present.

ーーーーーーーーーー

Glen: Go ahead, open it.

It's a welcome gift.

You can open it later, if you feel like it.

Annie: I bought you some things.

Some clothes, some socks…and there's lots of blue.

Dwight said you liked blue.

Try them on, and if you don't like them, we can exchange them.

Glen: We'll get out of here.

If you need us, we're downstairs.

Good night, Jesse.

Annie: It's great to have you here.

Good night.

ーーーーーーーーーー

Jesse was surprised and confused by Glen and Annie's thoughtfulness.

He doesn't know what attitude he should take.

It's a great and warm environment for Jesse.

Jesse took out his harmonica from his backpack and calmed down his confusion.

The next day, he rides the newly bought bicycle and goes to the aquarium to remove the paint.

He visited Randolph, the manager.

ーーーーーーーーーー

Randolph: The painter is back, welcome.

ーーーーーーーーーー

There, Jesse meets the killer whale again.

ーーーーーーーーーー

Randolph: Seven thousand pounds, that one.

Jaws powerful enough to clash bones to oatmeal.

Willy gets into moods.

You've got to give him his space.

Don't bother him, he won't bother you. Understand?

ーーーーーーーーーー

That giant killer whale was named Willy.

At the venue, trainer Rae was putting on a sea lion show.

Jesse sees the interaction between the trainer and the sea lion and is relieved.

Willy also moves to the venue.

ーーーーーーーーーー

Rae: You're the graffiti kid.

Jesse: I guess.

Rae: You messed up our observation area.

Jesse: Sorry.

ーーーーーーーーーー

He said with a defiant look in his eyes.

ーーーーーーーーーー

Rae: You like whales?

Jesse: I like him.

Rae: He doesn't like anybody, so be careful around him.

Willy's a case.

A special case.

Jesse: So? Who isn't?

ーーーーーーーーーー

In the evening, he plays the harmonica out of hopeless loneliness.

Glen comes over and invites him to play catch.

ーーーーーーーーーー

Glen: Wanna play catch?

Jesse: Catch?

Glen: I like to throw the ball around once in a while.

Had this mitt since I was in 8th grade.

I used to sit around and spit in it, smack it.

Get a nice pocket there.

Look at that. Nice, huh?

Let's play?

Jesse: How much they paying you to be my jailer?

Glen: Jailer?

I'm making such a great deal on you, you wouldn't believe it.

You are a regular cash cow.

That, plus a million dollars, I could retire when I'm 300 years old.

You have to help me out a little.

Dwight says I'm supposed to make some rules for you.

Problem is, I've always been a better rule-beraker than rule-maker.

So tell me what you think you need.

Jesse: You're asking me?

Glen: You're the big expert, right?

Jesse: I don't know any rules.

Glen: A kid like you?

Been around, been in trouble…

What will it be?

Jesse: Let see…

I got it. First rule is…you have to give me an allowance every week.

Glen: Five bucks.

What's next?

Jesse: I don't know, I haven't thought yet.

Glen: While you're thinking, I need you in bed every night by 10:00.

And up every morning in time for breakfast.

And I want you in the house every night by 7.

And don't disappear without telling somebody.

We need to know where you are.

Jesse: Okey. ーーーーーーーーーー

7.Lonely Willy and Jesse meet

The next day, Jesse finishes erasing the paint in the viewing room and plays the harmonica again.

As if in tune with that sad and lonely tone, Willie appeared.

Willy squealed happily and came closer to Jesse.

Killer whales can hear sounds on the ground even from underwater.

Willy stared at Jesse from under the water.

Willy happily jumped backwards and splashed Rae as she walked.

When Jesse sees this, he bursts into laughter with a smile he's never seen before.

8.Are these people safe?

ーーーーーーーーーー

Jesse: He likes messing with people’s heads, doesn’t he?

Rae: Yes, he does.

If I can’t get him to perform. No one can.

Orcas are usually nice and smart.

Willy’s smart and nasty.

You really like him.

Jesse: Yeah

Rae: Good. You can help me out.

ーーーーーーーーーー

Jesse helps prepare Willy's food.

ーーーーーーーーーー

Rae: Broken belly. Toss it.

Look. This is a good fish.

That’s a bad fish. Good fish, bad fish.

We must sort out what Willy can eat from the cheap crap they buy.

Jesse: Willy’s a killer whale, right?

So will he kill us?

Rae: Orcas are just hunters.

Mostly they eat fish.

Well, sometimes they’ll eat porpoises, squid, birds…sharks…

What Willy really likes is salmon.

That’s his chocolate.

ーーーーーーーーーー

Jesse sneaks out of the house at night and goes to see Willy.

Jesse slips and hits his head, falling unconscious into the water.

Willy picked Jesse up by his nose and carried him to the poolside.

It is a quiet and mysterious scene where the water reflects the moonlight and gently carries Jesse.

Jesse regains consciousness after spitting out the seawater he swallowed.

ーーーーーーーーーー

Jesse: You saved my life.

ーーーーーーーーーー

Warm up at Randolph's house.

ーーーーーーーーーー

Randolph: You must have something special, that’s why he didn’t eat you.

Jesse: What do you mean?

Randolph: I don’t know. High blood, medicine roots.

Jesse: No way.

Randolph: Then you’re just a lucky white boy.

You like that better?

Jesse: Willy doesn’t have a problem with me.

We appreciate each other.

Randolph: Appreciate?

Willy saved your butt.

Jesse: I don’t know why everybody has such a big problem with him.

Randolph: Willy doesn’t like visitors in his tank.

Why were you there?

Jesse: I came to say goodbye.

Job is almost up.

Didn’t want to say goodbye.

Randolph: Just maybe…

Old Indian stuff.

Orcas. Ever look into Willy’s eyes?

Those eyes discovered the stars…

Long before man was even a whisper on Mother Earth.

Could look into a man’s soul if they want.

Willy won’t look at Rae, or me.

Maybe he sees you.

ーーーーーーーーーー

Anxious, aggressive, and frightened people are foreign and scary.

Before you know it, a wall will be built.

If that happens, we won't be able to communicate with each other.

Although Jesse is worried, he gradually gets closer to Glen, Annie, Randolph, and Rae, and they get to know each other a little better.

In this way, he can gradually lower your defensive posture.

When he arrived home, Glen and Annie were awake and worried.

ーーーーーーーーーー

Annie: Jesse, where have you been?

You are soaked.

Jesse: I was at work.

Glen: You snuck out at night to clean up graffiti.

That’s an amazing story.

Jesse: I fell in the tank.

Annie: The whale tank?

Glen: Will somebody tell me what the heck is going on?

Jesse: I slipped and fell in the tank. It’s my fault.

Randolph: Forks, my name is Randolph.

I've been supervising Jesse at the park.

He does a good job.

Did his cleanup, helped out in some other areas and made friends.

We could use him for the rest of the summer, if that’s okay with you

Make a job of it.

Pay him a little something.

Glen: What do you say?

Jesse: I want to please!

Glen: Finally found something you’re into?

Annie: It sounds okay, but days.

No more sneaking out at night.

Jesse: All right. I promise I won’t.

Glen: Just be straight with us from now on.

If there’s something you need, just ask.

Think you can do that?

Jesse: Yes.

Glen: All right, it’s past your bedtime.

Get in the house, son.

Jesse: I’m not your son.

Glen: Yeah, I know that. ーーーーーーーーーー

9.Where is my place?

When Jesse went to the aquarium in the morning, Willy was stuck in a net and was being forcefully examined.

Willy chirped anxiously and looked at Jesse sadly.

Jesse secretly unties the rope and rescues Willy from the net.

ーーーーーーーーーー

Randolph: I saw what you did.

Jesse: So?

Randolph: So nothing.

I’m sure Willy’s grateful.

ーーーーーーーーーー

Jesse went to the fish market and got some fish for Willy.

This may be the first time Jesse has acted for someone.

There he meets his bad friend Perry.

ーーーーーーーーーー

Perry: Yes, Jess.

What's up? New clothes. New gig?

Jesse: Staying with some people.

Perry: It’s cool.

What happened that night?

I saw you get popped.

Jesse: Not much.

Had to clean up all our mess.

I'm working there now.

Perry: They looking for me?

Jesse: Not.

Perry: Cool.

It’s a total drag, man. Sorry.

Jesse: No sweat.

Where have you been staying?

Perry: Dayton set me up.

Working for him now.

Looking out for cops and stuff.

I mentioned you to him.

I can hook you up if you want.

Jesse: I gotta think about that.

Perry: Snooze, you lose.

Jesse: Stop by sometime.

See you around. I gotta bail.

See you.

ーーーーーーーーーー

10.Shrink the distance

Jesse gave Willy the fish and gingerly stroked Willy's nose.

ーーーーーーーーーー

Jesse: You're like…rubbery.

Your skin peels off.

Still a beautiful animal though.

Well, buddy, I gotta go.

I'll save these scraps and fishes for later.

ーーーーーーーーーー

At first, Jesse thought Willy might bite him.

In reality, Willie allowed Jesse to touch him.

The feel was soft, like rubber.

This work teaches us that touching is something we do to resolve this misunderstanding.

Willy quietly follows Jesse as he leaves.

ーーーーーーーーーー

Jesse: You want to go with me?

ーーーーーーーーーー

Willy showed his belly and raised his fins high in the air.

ーーーーーーーーーー

Jesse: I can do that too.

Can you do it with your other arm?

ーーーーーーーーーー

Willie looked at Jesse and raised his opposite fin high.

ーーーーーーーーーー

Jesse: Can you wave?

Can you dance for me?

Can you groove? Dance?

ーーーーーーーーーー

Randolph and Rae were passing by and saw the scene.

ーーーーーーーーーー

Jesse: Can you go in circles?

You're really doing it.

Look at you.

Makes me dizzy.

Randolph: Looks like Willy has a soul mate.

Rae: Can you feed him?

Jesse: Sure I can feed him.

Rae: Out in the ocean, killer whales like Willy live in families, pods.

Some of them never leave their moms.

Jesse: Never?

Rae: Their social structure is important to them.

Over 50 orcas have been seen traveling together.

Some of them stay together forever.

Jesse: You've seen them?

Rae: My dad was in the Navy.

He did sonar research on whales.

I went out there all the time.

Jesse: Do you do research here?

Rae: Here I'm just a trainer, but I want to work out on the ocean.

I'm going back to school to get my Ph.D. in marine biology.

Jesse: If you do that, Willy will be alone.

There'll be no one to take care of him.

Well, Charlie's in school…

Jesse: Who's Charlie?

Rae: My boyfriend, Charlie.

Do you have a girlfriend?

Jesse: What makes you think I want one?

Rae: Just guessing.

ーーーーーーーーーー

Jesse begins to communicate with people other than himself.

What they are interested in

Dream for the future

Current situation

What they think about when they live

In this way, we get to know each other and become closer.

We begin to feel closer to others.

Jesse asked Rae to teach him how to train.

I think Jesse now knows how to receive love.

Jesse is given a book by Randolph.

ーーーーーーーーーー

Jesse: What's this?

Randolph: Thought you'd want to know what we're dealing with.

My father gave it to me.

It's "Haida"

"Haida" is the name of my people.

ーーーーーーーーーー

Randolph is of Native American descent.

In a sense, he is also a member of a minority ethnicity and is rejected by American society.

In this way, this work teaches us what the individual and the community are.

ーーーーーーーーーー

Randolph: 300 years ago, there were so many fish in the water…

my people only had to spend one day a week gathering food.

Everybody ate like kings.

Jesse: What did they do the rest of the time?

Randolph: Carved and painted totems.

Made music, told stories, made babies.

Jesse: Sounds good to me.

Randolph: “Skaana.”

It's the Haida word for "whale."

Natselane was a Haida who lived long before there were orca whales.

Hunting fish with the other warriors, young Natselane lost his way.

While he was searching, a fierce storm began.

Natselane couldn't find shelter anywhere.

The otters came and took him deep under the water where he'd be safe.

After the storm, Natselane again searched for the braves.

But all he found was a huge log.

He began carving a great beast in the log and tried carrying it to the ocean.

Finally he found water, but it wasn't the ocean.

The great carving sank to the bottom of this pool and disappeared.

Natselane sat and watched and waited, saying a prayer he'd never heard before.

“Sarana Eyo Asis…”

Jesse: “Sarana Eyo Asis…”

ーーーーーーーーーー

The scene then changed and Jesse shared the story's emotion with Annie.

ーーーーーーーーーー

Jesse: He kept saying this prayer.

He'd never heard it before.

It really got crazy, because the water started flying out…

and all this commotion started happening.

And out of the water came the carving.

It wasn't a carving.

It was a whale, like Willy.

He flew all the way down to the ocean, like a bird…

and Natselane, he went after him, down to the beach…

and he got on his back and rode him all the way home.

Isn't that cool?

Annie: That's very cool.

What is this?

ーーーーーーーーーー

Annie points to what Jesse was holding.

ーーーーーーーーーー

Jesse: It's an orca, like Willy.

Randolph gave it to me.

It's from his tribe.

Annie: It's beautiful.

Well, you get some rest.

Sweet dreams.

ーーーーーーーーーー

Jesse also begins to bond with Annie.

I believe that by conveying his emotions to others, he has become able to give her love.

This is how people become closer together.

11.What do I need?

One night Willy was crying out to sea.

ーーーーーーーーーー

Jesse: What's matter?

What awful noise for?

ーーーーーーーーーー

It was singing to a family that had come to the beach nearby.

Jesse understands more than anyone else how Willy feels without his family.

Jesse always travels by bicycle, and you can understand his heart by the way he rides that little bicycle.

Jesse runs down the hill and rides dashingly to the aquarium.

You can painfully understand his childishness, the strength and haste of his desire to bond with someone.

It's very cinematic.

Jesse delivers the lunch to the car repair shop where Glen works.

Jesse looks at the picture of Annie and himself on Glen's desk.

He didn't seem to feel bad.

Show interest by looking at pictures of classic cars.

ーーーーーーーーーー

Jesse: Neat car.

Check it out.

Glen: You like that car?

That's a classic, It was the love of my life.

I spent a year and a half getting that baby in primo condition.

Then I had to sell it.

Jesse: Why?

Glen: The simple reason that you can't have more than one love in your life.

ーーーーーーーーーー

Does this mean that Glen has decided to spend his affection, money and time on what is most important?

ーーーーーーーーーー

Jesse: You and Annie…ever fight?

Glen: Yeah, we schedule one every other month or so.

Why?

Jesse: Just asking.

ーーーーーーーーーー

Maybe Jesse was scared because his parents fought when he was young.

We were moved to see Jesse, who had never shown any interest in computers or playing catch, have the courage to start communicating on his own.

ーーーーーーーーーー

Jesse: Oh, what is this?

Glen: That's a picture of me and my mother.

Long time ago.

About your age there.

Jesse: Where is she now?

She died. About two years ago.

Jesse: Well, my mom's coming to get me one of these days.

Glen: She is?

Jesse: Not too long from now.

Glen: That's funny.

That's not what they said.

Jesse: You don't believe me, do you?

Glen: It's not that.

I just the impression that…

Jesse: I don't care what they said!

They don't know anything! ーーーーーーーーーー

Glen takes pity on Jesse and tries to pat Jesse on the head, but Jesse refuses.

ーーーーーーーーーー

Jesse: My mom has some things to take care of, then she's coming for me!

ーーーーーーーーーー

This shows that the bond between children and their mothers is very strong.

No matter what kind of mother she is, to a child, the mother is like the world they live in.

We all instinctively feel that we deserve to be accepted.

We can only give a good interpretation.

Otherwise, our existence will be denied.

12.Confess each true feelings

Annie and Glen start arguing over Jesse.

ーーーーーーーーーー

Annie: What happened?

Glen: He wasn't at the park.

Annie: He wasn't?

Maybe we should call Dwight.

It's after 11.

Glen: I know what time it is!

…I'm sorry.

ーーーーーーーーーー

Jesse is back.

ーーーーーーーーーー

Annie: Jesse, where have you been?

Glen: You weren’t at the park.

You’re supposed to tell us where you are.

Jesse: Doesn’t matter.

You want to dump me? Go ahead.

I’m not living here.

I’m staying here for a while.

ーーーーーーーーーー

Jesse went to his room on the second floor.

ーーーーーーーーーー

Glen: How do you like that?

Just when you think you’re starting to get through, starting to make sense…

starting to make a connection…

Annie: He's scared, and he's pushing us away.

Glen: I'd like to push him out the door.

Annie: Don't say thing like that!

Glen: Does it make you angry?

Annie: It didn't help that you used that tone of voice with him!

Glen: He's driving me crazy!

Annie: You know why you're angry?

Glen: Why?

Annie: You care for him.

That scares you, because he reminds you of yourself.

Glen: We did the best we could do.

It doesn't have to be more than that.

Is this another of your crusades?

Annie: This is not a crusade!

We're talking about a human being!

Glen: Annie, I'm happy, just you and me.

ーーーーーーーーーー

Jesse heard their conversation from upstairs.

Jesse reads the letter that came with the gift from them.

ーーーーーーーーーー

Letter: Dear Jesse, Welcome to our home,

Love, Annie and Glen.

ーーーーーーーーーー

Jesse picked up his new baseball gift and threw it out the window.

Jesse was hurt by the fact that he was a burden.

To his mother, to Glen…

That was the thing Jesse didn't want to admit the most.

I think Glen also wasn't mentally prepared to welcome Jesse into his home.

I think it was because he was tired from work and couldn't concentrate enough.

There are many children in the orphanage who are hungry for love.

But they never thank you for taking them in.

Being taken from a protected and comfortable environment to a strange building and a stranger's place where they don't know what will happen.

I think we should never treat them with pity.

They need time to break with their past selves and feel safe here.

The broken window glass seems like the shape of Jesse's heart right now, and it makes our heart hurt.

Jesse became aggressive because he was worried that he would be abandoned again.

His mind was at its limit.

Jesse breaks down crying on his bed.

Annie and Glen rush in.

ーーーーーーーーーー

Annie: Jesse, are you okay?

Jesse: I just got scared.

Annie: What are you scared about?

Jesse: I don't know.

I heard you guys fighting.

It scared me.

Glen: Jesse, Adults argue sometimes…

but that doesn't mean that anybody will get hurt.

I'd never hurt Annie.

Or you.

You should know that.

Jesse: I know.

Glen: I see you opened your present.

Jesse: Yeah, thanks.

Glen: Let's go outside and find the baseball.

What do you say?

ーーーーーーーーーー

Jesse's courage is that he honestly confessed his feelings to Annie and Glen.

I think this is because through his interactions with various people, he learned that they were also struggling to survive, and he was able to understand their feelings.

I think that because Annie, Glen, and Jesse were able to express their true feelings to each other, they became closer to each other.

Glen and Annie then watch over Jesse tenaciously.

Jesse, who had been stealing until now, buys Salmon, Willy's favorite food, with his own pocket money for the first time.

Jesse, who was unable to receive love because of someone other than himself, now becomes the one who gives love.

Jesse, who did not receive the love of his parents that he was supposed to receive, starved of love and made enemies of those around him, but now he has grown to be the one who gives love.

13.Each place of residence

Perry appears with a cigarette in his mouth.

Dayton and Perry are moving to Los Angeles for work, so he asks Jesse to go with him.

ーーーーーーーーーー

Perry: I'm going.

First Sacramento, then L.A.

Dayton and I are like…business partners.

You can get in on it.

ーーーーーーーーーー

Jesse looked at Willy.

ーーーーーーーーーー

Jesse: Perry, I can't do right now.

Perry: Come on, man.

This is major stuff.

We're gonna be rich.

All right, fool, be that way.

Here. This is where we're going.

If you get the guts to go, look me up.

Jesse: Sure. See you Perry.

ーーーーーーーーーー

The camera showed Perry's back.

He seemed worried about his future.

Jesse talks to Willy.

ーーーーーーーーーー

Jesse: Hey Willy.

You miss your family?

Couldn't take care of me.

Couldn't even take care of herself.

I haven't seen her since I was little.

But, you know, I still miss her.

Greenwoods are okay. They're okay.

You know, it's rough.

I'm nervous with them.

That's just the way it is.

Could be a lot worse.

Really. You understand?

I'm sure you miss your family too.

I hope you find them one day.

I love you, Willy.

ーーーーーーーーーー

Jesse tries to get Willy to learn tricks, make his tank bigger, and treat him better.

Willy becomes attached to Jesse and begins to do many tricks with him.

However, Willy, who was not used to people, did not do any tricks at the actual show where there was a large audience.

Willy was frightened.

A crowd of spectators peering into the water bang on the door of the viewing room.

It's just like the outside world as seen from Jesse.

Jesse was very depressed.

Jesse feels like it's his fault and he gives up on everything.

No matter what he does, he feels like he can't do it.

ーーーーーーーーーー

Rae: He just wasn't ready.

Jesse: No.

Rae: That wasn't your fault.

You didn't do anything.

ーーーーーーーーーー

Unable to live up to everyone's high expectations, he ends up denying himself because he has low self-esteem to begin with, and he desperately want to run away from that.

Glen, Annie, and Dwight comfort him as he becomes desperate.

Jesse kicks the trash can.

ーーーーーーーーーー

Dwight: Jesse, I'll hold it and you kick it.

Annie: Jesse, it takes a lot of courage to do what you did…

…to work with an animal that's so big and strong.

Glen: Maybe that whale just doesn't want to be a performer.

You gave it your best shot.

You worked hard, and you did everything you could.

Annie: And we're very proud of you.

I'd be nervous too if I had to do tricks in front of all those people.

Dwight: What up?

Show wasn't…

Jesse: Screw the show and the Greeenwoods.

Dwight: So now they're against you too?

Jesse: Like everything else.

Dwight: I don't think you have it so bad with the Greenwoods.

Jesse: Then you live there!

I'm sick of this place!

I'm going to find my mom.

Dwight: You mean you're gonna hit the streets again?

Jesse: No, I'm going to find my mom.

Dwight: Right.

The state can't find her.

The federal government can't either.

Jesse: I'll find her.

Dwight: When are you going to get it?

She's not coming back.

Forgot the day she dropped you on that doorstep?

Forgot about that?

Well, I remember.

Turned around and drove away.

Didn't look around or slow down, didn't look in the rearview mirror.

That's sound like somebody's mama to you?

These two people want to be your friend.

That's more than your mother ever was.

And you could use a friend.

Because if you go off on your own…

you'll end up losing big-time.

You got that?

Jesse: Shut up and leave me alone!

Annie: I feel sorry for Willy.

Jesse: Me too.

Annie: But you know, animals can be unpredictable…

and they can misbehave sometimes just like people.

But that doesn't mean you have to lose faith in them.

Right?

Well…good night.

ーーーーーーーーーー

By Jesse's bedside was the ball Glen had given him and a postcard with an address in Los Angeles left by Perry.

It's a scene where you wonder which side Jesse will choose.

The crossroads of fate is expressed through video.

Jesse decides to visit Perry in Los Angeles and leaves home at night.

14.Important things

Jesse came to the aquarium at night to say goodbye to Willy.

Willy puts the float in his mouth and approaches Jesse as if to ask him to play with him.

ーーーーーーーーーー

Jesse: What do you want?

Go out of here.

Just go.

ーーーーーーーーーー

Jesse threw the float far away to try to get Willy away.

Willy retrieved the float and approached Jesse to play with him again.

It is a beautiful and quiet scene illuminated by the flickering moonlight.

ーーーーーーーーーー

Jesse: Now you want to mess around.

What happened today?　

You choked, didn’t you?

ーーーーーーーーーー

Willy splashes Jesse. As if to tell him not to say that…

ーーーーーーーーーー

Jesse: Quit it.

Better stop that.

Quit it.

It's goodbye now

ーーーーーーーーーー

Willie cried out sadly.

ーーーーーーーーーー

Jesse: Don’t you start that now.

I’m out of here.

Going to California.

Have a good life.

ーーーーーーーーーー

Willy began to cry sadly towards the sea.

Jesse climbed to the top of the hill and looked toward the sea, where he saw Willy's family.

What did Jesse feel?

I think Jesse, who was starting to feel the warmth of his family, started missing Annie and the others.

After this, an escape drama begins from the aquarium to the cove in order to save Willy, who is about to be killed by the aquarium owner for the insurance money.

While transporting Willy, the trailer gets stuck in the mud and stops moving.

ーーーーーーーーーー

Randolph: We've definitely hit some kind of low.

No question about it.

Rae: We need help.

ーーーーーーーーーー

Randolph and Jesse run out of options and are about to give up.

Willy is drying up and dying.

Jesse asks Glen for the first time.

He called out to you from the bottom of his heart over the radio in the car.

ーーーーーーーーーー

Jesse: Glen? Annie?

You guys there?

Glen: Yeah, Jesse?

ーーーーーーーーーー

Glen and Annie rushed over immediately.

ーーーーーーーーーー

Annie: Jesse, are you all right?

Jesse: I'm okay.

Glen: What's going on?

What are you doing with my truck?

And this whale?

Jesse: They tried to kill Willy.

Annie: Kill him?

Jesse: We're putting him back in the ocean.

Glen, help us.

Help us, and I'll do anything.

Anything!

Glen: What is it that you think I want from you.

Jesse: I don't know.

I don't know what you want from me.

Look, I've got to look out for Willy, and I've got to do what's best for him.

You understand?

Please, Glen.

I'm asking for your help.

He's gonna die.

ーーーーーーーーーー

Jesse, who is aggressive and sees those around him as enemies, desperately begs Glen not for himself but for his friends.

Michael Madsen, who plays Glen, has very melancholy eyes, similar to James Dean.

ーーーーーーーーーー

Glen: There's a chain and a winch behind the seat of the truck.

Go and get it.

ーーーーーーーーーー

Jesse hugged Glen.

ーーーーーーーーーー

Jesse: Thanks Glen.

ーーーーーーーーーー

Annie looked at them with teary eyes.

15.break the chains

Willy's escape is also an escape from Jesse's trapped mind.

It is an escape from the cage inside himself that he has created for himself.

Jesse has been abandoned and has lost her existence, and in order to protect herself on the verge of death, he is trying to destroy the cage he created to protect himself from the people around her who he believes are his enemies.

Willy's big jump on the breakwater surrounding the last cove is Jesse's big jump.

It's not easy.

It takes courage.

It is a high embankment.

We don't think he can get over it.

It looks like it's going to bounce off.

It looks like it will be damaged by the impact.

He may never be able to recover.

He may feel hopeless.

But Jesse mustered up his courage.

ーーーーーーーーーー

Jesse: Come here boy.

I'll miss you.

Don't forget me, okay?

I won't forget you.

Say hello to your mom for me.

I really love you, boy.

I believe in you.

You can do it, you can be free.

Do it, do it!

Come on, Willy.

I know you can do it!

I know you can jump this wall!

I believe in you!

You can do it!

You could be free!

Come on!

You can jump it.

Come on, Willy!

You only have to do it once!

Just once!

Rae: You ever see him jump that high?

Randolph: Things can happen…

Jesse: “Sarana Eyo Asis…”

Randolph: “Sarana Eyo Asis…”

Jesse: Bye, Willy.

I'll miss you.

Hope we get to see each other some time.

I love you.

ーーーーーーーーーー

Jesse heartily thanked Glen and Annie.

ーーーーーーーーーー

Jesse: Thank,guys.

Thanks, guys.

Thanks a lot.

So long, Willie.

Annie: Let's go home.

Jesse: Yeah

ーーーーーーーーーー

And Jesse also returned to his home, where he felt truly safe.

16.What is it like to be a parent?

Willy was in the same situation as Jesse.

In this film, Jesse and Willy are like mirrors.

Both Willy, who has been separated from his family, and Jesse, who has been abandoned by his mother, seem to understand each other's feelings.

Jesse sees Willy cries sadly and is hostile towards humans, and sees Willy in his own image.

Jesse can look at his current state objectively.

He learns what he and Willy need, what is important, and that is touch and a safe place.

Willy's family is waiting for him across the ocean.

Willy is considered important.

When Jesse thinks about himself, he realizes that although he was abandoned by his mother, there are many people who treat him kindly, including his foster parents Glen and Annie, his guardian Dwight, his caretaker Randolph, and his trainer Rae.

So he can know where his safe zone is.

His self-esteem, which had been on the verge of collapse, started to grow again, he began to like himself a little more, and he began to understand others through interactions with those around him, and his heart began to change.

He was able to accept the love of society.

He learned that they are not enemies, but kind people with their own unique characteristics and egos.

A mother's sin is great.

Sadly, no children can deny any parents.

But if they don't overcome it, they won't be able to remake themselves.

"Free" means release from feelings for a mother who doesn't love you.

To let a child be alone in early childhood is to push him into darkness.

It's not just about not being around, it's also about indifference, over-interference, and conditional love.

It needs to be a love without conditions, a love that gives you a sense of security that just being there is enough.

Without love, children are lonely.

They don't feel safe. they're full of anxiety.

In trying to protect themselves, hostility toward society is born.

I'm sure you've all felt threatened when approaching a stray dog or cat.

They are just defending themselves.

Due to endless anxiety, they intimidate those around them, pander to someone strong, become dependent on someone who seems to protect them, and become lethargic when they realize that this will not happen.

This is because they have very little or no love for themselves.

Those who have locked your hearts in prison, please remember this.

ーーーーーーーーーー

"I'm never bad, I'm never bad, I'm never bad."

“I can live too, I can live too, I can live too.”

ーーーーーーーーーー

Break up with your past parents.

There is no need to cover it at all.

You didn't give you the love you deserved.

Unless you are clearly aware of this, you will not be able to move forward.

That's the real starting line.

The people around you that you were afraid of were illusions that you created out of fear.

If you have the courage, you can create your own home.

It means changing affiliation.

In this way, people gradually change their affiliations, take on more responsible roles, acquire their own identity, and grow into adults.

Do you give your child the reassurance that they just need to be there?

ーーーーーーーーーー

”I love you because you are just you."

ーーーーーーーーーー

Giving that kind of love to a child is worth more than billions.

No matter how much money you have, if you don't have self-esteem, confidence, or love others, you'll have to live an unhappy life.

"Free Willy" is a refreshing work that you will want to watch over and over again.

See you again in the next work.

Goodbye.

…THE END AND TO BE COUNTED..　　

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　 17.Related works

『Free Willy 2』 directed by Dwight H. Little

『Free Willy 3』 directed by Sam Pillsbury

『Free Willy 4』 directed by Will Geiger

『Adults Don't Understand』 Directed by François Truffaut

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amoveablejake · 11 months

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Album of the Week: ‘Brasilian Skies’ by Masayoshi Takanaka

Stand out song: ‘NIGHTS’.

This past weekend has seen the world’s attention turn towards a farm in Somerset as Glastonbury Festival took place. Glastonbury is often referred to as the music festival however, for many on this little island it feels very run of the mill verging on pedestrian. It is not out of the ordinary to see some of the world’s best and most iconic artists make their way to Shepton Mallet even as a certain Foo Fighters member did a few days ago, by train which in that neck of the woods is saying something (see train timetables in the remote Somerset area for further reading). It does feel strange at times, to think of how many people from around the world do make the pilgrimage to Glastonbury as it is such a regular occurrence that many maybe do take it for granted. With its extensive television and radio coverage access to it, for those even far away from the farm itself is readily available. But ofcourse, it should not be treated like that. Whether you would like to attend or not, it is still quite something and a marvel that it goes ahead with all of the names attached. Glastonbury doesn’t always excite me as it probably should as I maybe am someone who treats it like a regular occurrence and for me, festivals aren’t really my thing. They don’t fill me with the same sense of wonder that they do for other. Actually, they might not be true because sometimes I do get rather excited and that comes down to who is performing. Would I have gone to Glastonbury this year to see the acts, I don’t think so based on its lineup. But if I was going to go to a festival this summer, well, oh I don’t know, I think I would have to say that I would make my way to Summer Sonic 2023 in Tokyo. Why? Well, other than being in Japan ofcourse, is down to one man, a figure who is ever present in my headphones. Masayoshi Takanaka. That was a long walk for a short drink of water huh.

Regular readers will probably know of my eternal, verging on spiritual love for Takanaka’s guitar music. This is by no means the first time that I have discussed him on the blog, hell, it isn’t even the first time ‘Brasilian Skies’ has come into the cross-hairs as I had briefly discussed it to talk a little about ‘Star Wars Samba’ which as I listen to it now I am once again have to take a break from writing to admire the pure genius that is Takanaka. ‘Brasilian Skies’ is perhaps a one of the maestro’s more playful albums. It is an album that is bursting with life and energy. Whilst some of Takanaka’s other work can be more reflective and inspires a more calming environment, here he is making sure that you feel the inherent momentum of Brasil, by way of Japan, flow through you. It is the sort of album that was designed for summer and as you gaze upon its cover with Takanaka in a folding chair on a beach, glowing in the sun, it is hard to think of listening to it at any other time of the year. Ofcourse, you can and I would recommend doing so on those winter days when you want to remember that feeling of the warmth on your skin and the sound of the sea somewhere out there calling you ever closer.

Even with ‘Star Wars Samba’ featuring on it, ‘Brasilian Skies’ for me really is only about one song and that is ‘Nights’. This is the track that is perhaps the closest to Takanaka’s regular discography as it features the sort of flowing guitar work that can inspire great swells of emotions and misty eyes with its perfection. Here though, rather than being played in a cosy Japanese bar on a cold evening, ‘Nights’ is reminding you to look out at the summer. In a way, it feels like the sort of song that could play at the end of a coming of age film or any motion picture that has revolved around a character not doing anything, preferably in the sun, and yet finding out everything about themselves. It is the sort of song that makes you think about summer memories all the while making you look ahead at the ones that are to come. And this, this speaks to Takanaka’s true brilliance with his guitar work as his masterstroke is to create rhythms that are both nostalgic and forward thinking. It is in a sense, the musical equivalent of the 50s American vision of the future. The flying cards and the buildings all looked very 2001 (okay, maybe they were a little off) but the colours and the actual core elements of the designs were grounded in the decade they were from. Yes, they were visions of the future but were also very clear reflections of the time that they were born. ‘Brasilian Skies’ is from 1978 sure, but really, it is timeless and is at home being played in ‘78 as it is in ‘23 as it will be in 2071 with the ‘Cowboy Bebop’ gang. ‘Brasilian Skies’ is one of the albums of the summer, then, now and forevermore.

-Jake, a man still thinking about the Cardinals, 26/06/2023

0 notes

bratkook · 3 years

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almost. (m) jjk.

not yet, almost, right now

pairing. jungkook x reader genre. fluff, baby angst, smut word count. 6.4k warnings. two idiots!!, pining, masturbation (m. and f.), use of vibrator, accidental voyeurism?, more feelings come to light!! summary. jungkook tries to be the best wingman he could be in your new venture after your breakup. he could do it, right? note. part two of not yet, some more feelings are exposed, please don’t hate oc she is but a pendeja that doesn’t see the obvious feelings jungkook has but she has good intentions i promise<3 there will most likely be a final part,,if you guys are into it lmao okie bye

The cool summer breeze flows around you as you’re sitting under the shade, eyes focused on the chaos of runny yolk and hashbrowns that is your breakfast. Jungkook on the other hand, is focused on you. His signature yellow shades block out the sun reflecting from passing cars, concealing his eyes just enough for you to not see him blatantly staring at you while you stuff your face.

The charmed smile he has falters slightly when you look directly at him, hashbrown lingering by your lip as you repeat his name. “Sorry, what?”

Your brows come together as you smile at his zoned out state, something you had grown fond of in the years of knowing him, always enjoying the small dazed look that graced his face whenever he was lost in his thoughts. His lips push out slightly in question, curious eyes wondering just what you could have been asking him.

“I was saying that I think I’m giving up on crushes and love.” You say it so easily, mind made up as you grin at him before continuing to shovel hashbrowns into your mouth, only pausing to take a sip of your iced coffee.

Jungkook tries his best to seem unaffected, nodding along in interest as he takes a steady bite of his own food. “Really?”

“Yeah,” you sigh, taking a look around at the people surrounding you: friends having breakfast together and snapping photos, couples feeding each other food with smiles on their faces, a lone man with his dog perched on the seat across from his while he worked on his computer. You briefly wonder if all of them, even the dog, have better luck with love than you do.

“I think I’m cursed,” you continue. “All of my exes have been assholes, and I’ve always been too blind to see it until it’s over and I’m left crying over Ryan Gosling and Rachel McAdams.”

“Maybe you’re just looking for love in the wrong places,” Jungkook shrugs, internally screaming because he’s who you should be looking at if you wanted love.

Not to toot his own horn, but Jungkook liked to think he was a good guy, a great boyfriend even. His previous track record of relationships could attest to that, all of them ending on mutual terms, still friendly and civil with each other. He’s almost certain if there was a Yelp page for him it would be at least 4.5 stars with comments raving about how great he is, even little anecdotal touches about how he always gave away his hoodies or offered to cook breakfast.

He was a god damn catch, why couldn’t you see that?

“Maybe prince charming is a lot closer than you think,” he grumbles out, stabbing his omelette with a little more force than necessary, fork clanking against the plate. And when you gasp in realization he freezes, slowly looking back up at you and seeing the way your eyes widen.

“Wait, maybe you’re right!” Your hand shoots across the table, gripping onto his forearm and it sends a shock throughout him, skin tingling at your touch. “You know that coffee shop below our building? That cute barista always puts a heart next to my name. Do you think I should ask for his number?”

Jungkook blinks once, slowly twirls his fork in his hand and blinks again before staring up at the sky, mentally asking why he couldn’t just go out and say it. “Hm, I don’t think you should.“

With a defeated sigh you retract your hand, slumping back into your seat and grabbing your iced coffee once more, stirring the straw and ice around as you nod. “True. What if he feels obligated to give it to me just because he doesn’t want to get fired in case I go all Karen on his ass.”

That wasn’t why Jungkook had said not to, but sure, that works too, so he hums along.

“I bet he draws hearts on all the other girls cups too.” You huff, playfully wiping a tear under your eye with a smile.

“I’ve actually—“

“You know what I—“

You both freeze mid sentence, Jungkook’s cheeks tinted a light pink as he stutters on his words, wide eyes staring at you as if he had caught himself before you cut him off. But as you’re about to tell him to go on, he waves you off and urges you to speak first.

“I was just gonna say that maybe I should go through that wild phase people usually go through after breakups.”

He sets his silverware down on the plate and sips his water, giving you an odd look. “Wild phase? Like you wanna dye your hair red and get bangs?”

“No,” you cackle, ruffling a hand through your own hair as you picture yourself with that combination. “I should just go out and hook up with people. I feel like I’ve either been in a relationship or entirely single, so it could be fun right?”

“Uh, maybe...” he trails off, rolling his lips together in thought, not exactly fond of hearing you say that when he had felt the confession about to roll off his tongue. He takes a slow breath, trying to see this from a neutral point, the point of a supportive friend wanting to help you get over a breakup.

“How do you go about it?”

“Me?” he chokes, pointing at his chest as if there was magically some other person you could be addressing.

“Yes, you. Need I remind you, we share a wall between our beds.” You roll your eyes, but the smile on your face shows that you’re speaking of this lightly, not entirely annoyed by the fact that you had heard Jungkook during his own fair share of hook ups.

He’s not ashamed of it, but considering he never really brought up being able to hear you, he thought you’d pretend to never hear him. It wasn’t too often that he had a girl over, the number of hookups only increasing after you got with Hajoon and loosely cut ties with Jungkook. But from what you had heard—and seen thanks to your nosey self looking through peep holes once they left—it was very rarely the same girl.

So to you, Jungkook was a pro at the art of hookups.

“Right, sorry,” he grimaces, a sheepish smile on his lips as he wonders just how many times his activities kept you up at night.

“It’s fine, consider us even.” A teasing laugh follows your statement, enjoying the flustered look on his face, how his cheeks get even darker in embarrassment. Jungkook was used to the two of you talking like this, neither of you having a filter especially when it came to sexual aspects, but he hadn’t had a conversation like this since before you got with Hajoon. It would take some getting used to again.

“So, give me the tips. Where do you find people?”

Jungkook leans back into his chair, arms stretching out on either side of him, short sleeves of his black tee bunching up and revealing more of his tattoos and the rippling of his muscles. With a small laugh he rakes his hand through his fluffy hair, giving you a small smile. “Honestly? Anywhere. I’ve gotten girl’s numbers at the gym and at coffee shops, but bars are the best bet for something quick.”

“Ugh, fuck you and your pretty privilege.”

“What?” he guffaws, smiling wide and showing you his adorable smile as he laughs loudly, not caring about the attention he draws to your table. He doesn’t even realize how the table full of girls is now trying to discreetly stare at him, because his eyes are on you. You see it though, and it further proves your point. “What the hell is pretty privilege?”

Your wild hands gesture towards him, a look of disbelief on your face as you do so. “You! Of course girls line up to hand you their number, have you seen yourself? Pretty privilege,” you jab your fork at him in time with your final words, a smirk on your glossy lips.

Jungkook feels his confidence grow at your casual compliment, tongue prodding at his cheek as he stares down at his food, trying not to smile too hard. You thought he was pretty, that was a win in his book.

“C’mon,” he teases, foot gently nudging your leg underneath the table. “You could totally score someone's number. Plus there's always apps if you just wanna test the water.”

You give your plate a contemplated stare, “Sure, how hard could it be?”

Admittedly, the answer to that question was: not hard at all. You had met all your previous boyfriends in person, through mutual friends or shared classes back in college, never once dipping your toe into the world of Tinder or Bumble. Who knew all it would take was a couple of selfies and the strategic body shot to have boys circling around you like some new-age, slightly filthier version of rapunzel.

Jungkook knew though, not at all shocked by how quickly you get a match the following day when he’s at your place. His eyes are focused on the screen in front of him, helping you beat a level in your favorite game that you had been stuck on. But the second you gasp as if you’ve won the lottery, he pauses the game entirely and gives you an odd look.

“What?”

His answer comes in the form of your phone thrusted in his direction, lit up screen displaying your profile picture and the one of the boy you had just matched with. Jung Hoseok. Jungkook’s eyes narrow as he reads the name, trying to remember it in case he somehow had a friend in common that knew all the dirt on him.

He has a similar pair of yellow shades on his own head, thicker black rims around them and a charming smile on his face. Jungkook chuckles to himself. Yellow shades? How original.

“What do I say?” you question, eyes looking nervous as you wiggle the phone in his face. The small white bar beneath your match urges you to start a conversation, and coming up with the right words to say makes you overthink it all.

“Just say hi and tack on some cute emoji. It’s not that hard,” he laughs, pushing the phone back at you. Jungkook knew you could start the message off any way you wanted and this Jung Hoseok would eat it right up. How could he not, the alluring smile in your profile photo would draw anyone in.

“Okay, I did it.” Your phone is instantly locked and chucked aside in an attempt to be forgotten, choosing to grab the remote out of Jungkook’s hands for another distraction. It only lasts a brief second before you’re killed by the boss Jungkook was trying to defeat.

“Really?” Jungkook huffs, yanking the remote back into his hands, needing a distraction himself. He was still trying to wrap his head around the fact that you were searching for a fuck buddy while he sat beside you. How crazy would it be if he suggested being your fuck buddy, offered to help you through this so called wild phase you were searching for.

No. That’s not what he wants.

Would he enjoy it? Sure. But he could already imagine how much worse his heart would hurt if his feelings came to light and yours were non-existent. That is if you’d even agree to it.

“Relax, he’s probably thinking of what to reply.”

You make a noise of disagreement, fingers itching to unlock your device to see if it was true, slowly inching towards it until you finally grab it and go back onto the app. Jungkook just chuckles as he goes back to helping you with your game, not wanting to look at you as you giggle at your device. He could already imagine what this guy was telling you for you to turn into a giddy mess not even two minutes in.

He tunes it all out, eyes focused on the screen, fingers gripping the remote with a little more force than needed. His concentration helps him though, finally passing the level you’ve been stuck on for the past two weeks.

“You’re welcome,” he sighs, making a show of stretching out and sending you a smile, having it falter slightly when he sees your eyes still focused on the screen of your phone. With a frown he looks back at the television, saving the game before turning it off altogether.

Once he gets up from the couch, making his way over to the media console to store the remotes, is when you look up at him. “You’re right, this is easy!”

Jungkook doesn’t feel the usual pride that comes with being right, but the cheerful look on your face prevents him from feeling salty. Coming back towards the couch, he sits beside you once more, facing you as he rests his elbow on the back cushion to lean on. “Told you so.”

He keeps that same smile on his face as you mention how quick Hoseok was to ask you out on a date, even as you bring up the fact that this date would be at his place, and Jungkook could decipher netflix and chill any way some greasy boy tried to conceal it.

“I hope he knows I don’t want anything serious,” you mumble, chewing on your fingernail as you scroll through the messages.

Jungkook could almost laugh at how blissfully unaware you were of the piranha infested water that was the great sea of Tinder. Of course this yellow sunglass wearing wannabe version of him knows you don’t want anything serious, why else would he be so quick to invite you over with the cheeky excuse to watch movies.

All he can do is shrug as he stares at you, lips pressed together in an effort to not say something that would totally ruin everything. Instead, Jungkook does everything he can to be the best version of a wingman you could get. He tells you the ins and outs of hookups, how you should definitely not text him the minute you leave his place and tell him you had fun, don’t talk about anything super personal involving family or your work, and if he doesn’t offer to go down on you but expects a blowjob he’s a loser.

It’s solid advice that you mentally jot down, subjecting him to further questions your mind comes up with and even asking him for help on an outfit via text the night of your hangout with Jung Hoseok.

Jungkook stares at the photos for a little too long if he’s being honest. They weren’t spectacular selfies that you had taken much effort for, their sole purpose being showing off the outfit, but the way you look so focused as you snapped the shot had him zooming into your face and smiling like an idiot. When you double text him with a long line of question marks he snaps out of it, deciding on the second option you picked of mom jeans and a cropped shirt. Cute and casual, and definitely something Jungkook preferred, but he’d never tell you that.

When you finally text him a thumbs up and tell him you’re on your way out he just hearts the message before locking his device and trudging to the living room. It’s not often that he wallows in self pity, spacing those days out so far he barely remembers them. But they usually went exactly like this, ordering a large meat lovers pizza with extra cheese, drinking far too many Mike’s hard lemonade—because despite how much they made his stomach hurt they were tasty so he didn’t care—and binge watching his comfort show: Modern Family.

But even as he sulks on his couch, practically sinking into the cushions with horrible posture and a slice of pizza resting on his chest, he can’t find it in himself to chuckle at Cam and Mitch’s usual banter. He’s too busy thinking about which movie you’re currently watching, if you were watching it. Who’s Jungkook kidding though, you were totally getting your guts rearranged right now.

Taking an aggressive bite out of the crust he frowns and raises the volume up on his television, attempting to drown the mocking voice in his head calling him a loser for not admitting to his feelings. He knew this, knew he should have said something when he wanted to at breakfast, but Jungkook was afraid that if he confessed as you were talking about hooking up, that you’d see him as taking advantage of a situation instead of being genuine. I mean who wouldn’t? You say you want something casual and suddenly he’s spilling his heart out and you’re supposed to believe he’s not some pig trying to butter you up. He didn’t want to get labeled as a creepy neighbor after the good times you’ve had.

“So stupid,” he grumbles to himself as he takes another swig, the last drops of the alcohol hitting his tongue with a tangy aftertaste. As he sits up to place the empty bottle onto his coffee table his muscles ache, neck stiff from the unfortunate position it had been subjected to for the last three hours. With a small huff he’s rolling his shoulders, reaching for his discarded phone to see the time—and also check if you’d sent him some SOS text—but he finds nothing besides the bright numbers indicating that it was nearing midnight.

In true pity party day fashion, he doesn’t even bother cleaning up after his mess, just tossing the dirty dishes into the sink to be washed tomorrow when he would force himself to be in a better mood. Instead, he grabs a water and his phone and waddles into his bedroom.

The moonlight illuminates the space enough for him to keep the light switch off, undressing from his crumb covered sweats and shirt, choosing to remain in his boxers as he slipped under the cold duvet. The sheets feel fresh against his hot cheeks, flush from the alcohol, cooling him down and making his body relax.

Jungkook knows he should sleep, needing to be up early tomorrow for work, but he can’t stop his mind from wandering into dangerous territory. His buzzed brain has no qualms imagining exactly what you were doing right now, wondering if you’d be the type to act shy at a guy’s house for the first time, if you’d initiate the first move or not. Jungkook had only seen it up close once under the flash of strobe lights and the haze of alcohol, but he can still picture the soft smile on your face before you go in for a kiss, and he grumbles under his breath when he realizes that he wouldn’t be the one kissing you tonight.

What he doesn’t know, is that you wouldn’t be the one getting kissed tonight either. The Jung Hoseok you had perceived through Tinder, assuming he was all casual and DTF with his netflix and chill suggestion, had been anything but. What you thought would be a steamy night, ended up becoming a nice dinner and comedy watched, morphing into some version of game night where you discovered he was a little too competitive than you were used to. The only action you got was a kiss to your cheek as he walked you to your car and a promise for another date. A promise you would not be keeping.

So as Jungkook lays in bed while his thoughts turn into some fantasy of you moaning out his name, you shuffle into your bedroom and slip into your pajamas with a defeated sigh. You had already texted your best friend telling her what a bust tonight had been, deciding to just tell Jungkook all about it tomorrow because you knew he was most likely fast asleep now. And as you settle under your own covers, inches away from Jungkook with only a wall seperating you, you decide to just call it a night and pretend it never happened.

Just as you shut your eyes, nuzzling into your pillow, you hear the first moan come from behind the wall. A small cry of despair escapes you as you bury your face into your sheets, tugging them up and over your head to block the sound of Jungkook getting some action the same night you had been left high and dry. Of course he would, assuming you’d be getting the same treatment at your date's place, why wouldn’t he take advantage of your absence and not have to muffle his partner’s moans the way he usually did.

You’re just going to ignore it, until you hear a moan that sounds strangely like your own name. Maybe it's wishful thinking on your part, your horny brain deciding to pretend that Jungkook was calling for you instead of whoever he was with. It might be a little wrong for you to have that fantasy of your neighbor, but you aren’t blind. He’s hot, and adorably sweet, the perfect package for any girl he tried to swoon. And judging by the cries you’ve heard of lucky girls prior, you know he was good in bed.

You’re just desperate now. That’s the excuse you tell yourself as you slowly settle onto your back, feeling your body warm up when you focus on his muffled groans, desperate and needy. As your hand slowly slides down your shirt, you shut your eyes, biting down onto your lip to muffle any sound you could make when your fingers slip underneath your pants and past your underwear.

Jungkook on the other hand doesn’t care about his volume. His boxers are tugged down his thighs, knees bent as he slowly ruts into his sticky palm. His hand is tacky with the lube he had messily squirted on, thick cock glistening in the light coming in from his window. He can’t look away from it, mouth dropped open as he groans, imagining it was your hand tightly wrapped around him, your spit covering his cock instead of that strawberry flavored lube.

“Ah fuck,” he moans, shutting his eyes and throwing his head back onto his soft pillows when his thumb rubs along his slit. It continues to leak beads of precum, quickly wiped away to join the mess on his cock when his hand slides back down and squeezes along his base.

You hear that loud and clear, and when the female voice you’re expecting never follows, you realize he must be taking care of himself. It makes you feel a little less guilty now as your fingers trail along your slit, collecting the slick coating your folds before you softly circle your clit. A choked gasp fills the air at the small sensation, your body already wired after having expected to get some action tonight; it totally had nothing to do with your hot neighbor jacking off inches away from you.

With your eyes fluttering shut, you strain your ears to make out any other noise, muffling your own groans with a hand pressed against your mouth. The bed creaks lightly underneath you as you roll your hips into your hand, getting into a smooth rhythm that makes your body buzz.

Slowly, your imagination runs wild, and you wonder just what Jungkook was thinking of as he did this. Was he watching some porn as he did it, using his own filthy thoughts to push himself to ecstacy, or was this just something he needed to do to be able to sleep?

“Shit, so good,” he groans out, voice raspy, but you can sense his desperation through the drywall. It’s what has you sinking a single digit into your drenched entrance, biting down onto your lower lip when you feel the glide of your walls as you start to thrust into yourself, easing in another and mewling at the slight stretch.

Jungkook would absolutely give his left leg to know what your pussy felt like, he didn’t even care how disgusting he sounded by admitting that to himself, it was true. Blame it on the hard lemonade that made his stomach ache and his mind unfiltered, but he could almost visualize how you’d look above him, could practically feel the warmth of your core wrapped around him, dripping down his length as he fucked into you.

He knows you’re loud in bed, never being one to conceal your cries of pleasure and he would die happy to hear his name come out of your mouth as you creamed his cock. But for now, his hand would have to do.

His lids feel too heavy, jaw slack as the pleasure flows through his body. The wet squelch of his palm fills the room, mingling with his pants and groans, air growing thick around him. It’s been a while since Jungkook had jacked off, and even longer since he’d been able to do it shamelessly in bed without the fear of you hearing him, but now that he thought you were gone he can’t find it in himself to cover his mouth or groan into his pillows like he usually did.

The pent up frustration fogs up his mind, cranks the lust up to 11 until his free hand is gripping his sheets beside him, bed frame creaking as his thrusts speed up. The thuds of his headboard hitting the wall come from behind you, a choked moan blending in with it, and it has you scrambling for your bedside drawer.

The pajamas you wear get yanked off your legs and tossed aside after you grab your trusty vibrator, settling onto your back once more with huff. All it takes is a press of a button for the device to come to life, buzzing in your hand as you trail it up your thighs. A gasp escapes you when you pass it over your mound, brushing against your clit and sending a jolt of pleasure through you.

“Oh my god,” you whimper when you finally press the vibrating head directly onto your sensitive clit, legs spreading further apart as you increase the intensity. You could clearly hear the raise in Jungkook’s moans, and that's when the first irrational thought pops into your mind.

How easy would it be for you to head over to his place and deal with both of your problems. Surely Jungkook wouldn’t have an issue with you offering to suck his dick, wouldn’t mind letting you sink down onto him if it was just a friendly favor.

The little devil on your shoulder tells you it would be mutually beneficial, urging you to get up and walk to Jungkook’s with the vibrator still in your hand, but you can’t. This alone felt like enough of a dirty secret, a secret you’d have absolutely no problem keeping because although you feel slightly ashamed, you couldn’t deny how turned on you are.

The flashes of all the times you’ve heard Jungkook with other people play in your mind, the screams of his name that he tried to muffle, pleas for him to go faster, the resounding smack of his palm on flesh that always left you wide eyed when you heard it. And you start to wonder if maybe you’d be into that, the feeling of his large tattooed hand connecting with your ass, gently tapping against your cheek for you to open up for his cock.

That fantasy is like the first ember needed to start the fire inside of you, spreading uncontrollably until you’re bucking into your vibrator, teeth biting down on your lip to keep any potential moans of his name from slipping out.

“Fuck, fuck,” he chants, the same fire burning within him. Maybe your minds are linked telepathically, his thoughts gravitating to the same filthy fantasy you had. Jungkook was very much an ass man, knowing very well how good your butt looked in jeans from how often he stared at it, he could only imagine how good it would look as he fucked you from behind. Picturing the way it would bounce back from the force of his thrusts, eyes glued to the way you’d soak his cock, mimicking the tightness of your walls with a firm grip of his palm.

Jungkook can sense his orgasm approaching, leaves his chest feeling tight as he pants, legs gliding along his sheets for leverage to continue fucking into his hand. You’re not far off either, vibrator set to the highest setting you can practically feel your bones rattling, free hand slipped under your shirt as you pinch at your pebbled nipples. You’re both on the brink of falling over the edge, the same question playing in your mind: where would you want Jungkook to cum?

As his moans get breathier, whiny in a way you’d never imagine them to be, you mentally decide that you’d want him to cum inside of you, wanting to see the way his cute face would twist up in pleasure as he filled you up. Jungkook hopes you would, throwing all responsible thinking aside for that sweet moment of ecstasy and the mental picture is enough to finally push him over.

“Ah shit, baby,” he cries out in his room—thankfully having half the mind to not cry out your name as he came—eyes rolling back as his cock twitches in his palm, ribbons of cum splashing onto his stomach and chest. The warmth hits his skin, more droplets continuing to leak out as his palm milks his orgasm, stomach hiccuping and back arching from the stimulation.

The choked moan is what has your own orgasm washing over you, your palm slapping over your mouth so hard you know you’ll feel the ache later but you don’t care. A muffled gasp blends with the buzzing of your toy, thighs tensing up as your body tingles and writhes around on your sheets.

The only thing you can think of is Jungkook, the charming smile he’d give you when he listened to you rant about anything, his annoying habit of rolling up his sleeves to show off his muscles, the cute scowl on his face whenever you managed to beat him at Mario Kart, and the soft feeling of his alcohol coated lips on yours. It leaves you feeling warm as your orgasm flows through you, lying limp on the bed as you mewl at the sensitivity.

When you realize your thoughts have strayed from ‘pure sexy Jungkook fantasyland’, and switched over to ‘Jeon Jungkook your adorable neighbor’, your eyes go wide, finger immediately going to turn off the vibrator. In your haste to shut it off, you click the wrong button, changing the pulsing settings and nearly screaming when the device starts to buzz erratically against your overly sensitive clit.

With a strained gasp you yank it away from yourself, turn it off and throw it aside, horribly miscalculating the size of your bed and watching in horror as it lands on the floor with a loud thud. The complete silence from both sides makes the noise sound deafening, and all you can do is sit on your bed, half naked, and hope Jungkook is still too busy basking in his post orgasm bliss to hear the bang.

Although the blood is still pumping in his ears, he heard the thud clearly. His heart stops in his chest as he lays there, too scared to breathe in case he’d somehow make too much noise, suddenly afraid of being too loud after he had just made a show of himself. Jungkook slowly sits himself up, grimacing at the stickiness on his stomach before pressing his ear against his headboard to try to hear anything else.

All you want to do is yank the covers over yourself and go to sleep, pretend your horrendous date and your dirty thoughts about your friend never happened. The sobering mentality that comes after an orgasm settles into you, leaving you staring at the floor with a crease between your brows as you wonder what the hell came over you.

When Jungkook hears nothing else, he sighs in relief, hauling himself out of bed to grab another pair of underwear before entering his bathroom to clean up. As he stares at his own reflection in the mirror, he frowns at how pathetic he feels. The throbbing headache of his earlier drinks is already starting to kick in, body now sweaty from exertion, stomach covered in his cum.

“Such a loser,” he grumbles out, grabbing a wad of tissues to wipe away the mess on his skin before walking back out. Here he was, getting off to the thought of you, while you were out having your post-breakup wild phase.

His hands grab his phone as he reaches his nightstand, flopping back onto the bed and unlocking the device. It’s now one in the morning, and you still hadn’t text him, which either meant you were having the time of your life, or Jungkook had to track down this Jung Hoseok. The slightly protective side of him won’t allow him to sleep until he hears back from you, fingers already typing out a message and hitting send.

Jungkook 1:23am : you safe or am i gonna have to go all Liam Neeson on this guy?

When your phone vibrates on your nightstand you gasp, grabbing it before it could make any more noise. Seeing Jungkook’s name flash on the screen makes your blood run cold, already imagining what the text could be: calling you dirty for getting off on him, making fun of you, telling you to come ove—no stop that.

Finally mustering up the courage, you open it up, a small laugh spilling out as you read his message, relief flooding through you as you realize that meant he thought you were still with Hoseok.

Y/N 1:26am : oh yeah, you gonna show him your very particular set of skills? lol

Y/N 1:26am : i just got home though

Y/N 1:26am : like right now

Y/N 1:26am : still sitting in my living room

Y/N 1:27am : haha

He laughs at your string of texts, something you hear as he settles into bed. Jungkook ebbs away the small feeling of jealousy in his chest, trying to see the silver lining of this. You weren’t rushing to tell him anything about your date which meant it either went so good you wanted to keep it to yourself, or it was subpar and you wouldn’t be seeing this yellow sunglass wearing copycat again.

Jungkook 1:29am : glad you got home safe, goodnight y/n!

Sending back a goodnight text, you lock your phone and slide deeper into bed, pulling the sheets up to your chin as you stare at the ceiling. You already know the only thing you’ll be dreaming about is your cute neighbor with a bunny smile and body proportions that contradicted it. And as Jungkook lays in bed, wondering if he’ll have to push the crush aside, you’re barely coming to terms with the fact that the small glowing feeling that came with being around him might be something else.

Every single one of your interactions gets rewinded and played back like a seamless montage, remembering just how many almost moments there was between you. The way his eyes would flash down to your lips whenever you playfully argued on your couch, hands yanking the remotes from his in a game of tug of war that left you way too close in the heat of the moment. How he’d let you braid his hair anytime you found a new youtube tutorial, his starry eyes staring at you with so much adoration it made your stomach flip, brushing it off as love for a friend.

Then came the jokes from your friends, constantly teasing you about Jungkook, playfully saying they would try to sleep with him just because they liked the scowl on your face, and how quickly you tried to play it off. How the sweet old lady from the convenience store downstairs always assumed you were dating when you came in together, the low jab she sent when you walked in with Hajoon and she said she preferred you with Jungkook. That argument had been one of the ones that left him bolting out of your apartment with a nasty slam of the door, spewing nasty words at you, calling you blind for not seeing it and dumb for acting like you had no idea what he was talking about.

And for the first time, you come to the sudden realization that Hajoon was right. His deep set insecurities about Jungkook had stemmed from scraps of the truth, not just from him but from you too. The amount of times you’d find a way to slide Jungkook’s name into a conversation about anything, telling him funny stories about him, too lost in thought to see that while you were giggling as you reminisce, he was staring at you in disbelief.

The final thought that makes you want a blackhole to swallow you up, comes in the form of you, grabbing Jungkook’s face before planting a kiss on his unsuspecting lips at the club. You want to scream into your pillow as you recall it, how he had almost leaned back in to kiss you again before you had sobered him up with your dumb question rooted in revenge.

“Oh my god, I’m such a bitch.” you whimper. Subjecting Jungkook to be your wingman, jokingly telling him he should be your fake boyfriend more often, asking him for tips with hook ups. If everyone else could see it but you, he probably thought you were purposely friendzoning him.

The guilt piles on top of you as you start to piece together every moment that flew over your head, only making you bury yourself deeper into your sheets. It makes your heart twist, taking note of how Jungkook was always so quick to put a smile on his face despite how naive you were to it all, wondering if maybe it was too late to try to make something of this now. How many times could you call Jungkook ‘bro’ and treat him like you didn’t see him romantically, before he decided there was no hope for him anymore.

So as you force yourself to sleep, nerves and uncertainty weighing heavy on your mind, Jungkook snores away as he dreams of the almost moments that could have been.

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