#ALL SHE DOES W REGARDS TO TEN IS REMIND HIM THAT EVERY TIME HE LOVES SOMEONE HES FATED TO LOSE THEM. WE CAN IGNORE HER PAST THIS. GBLESS | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

awanderingtortoise · 3 years

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a/n: first of all, i would like to thank my genius brain for answering the ask this stemmed from privately, therefore losing all access to it and anything i typed in reply. i would also like to thank google docs for housing the backup copy of this fic, ensuring my panic lasted only half the time it could have. finally (and the only serious thing here) ty to @nabrizoya for giving this idea during my 'i cant write banter only dad jokes help' panic, i loved it and wrote far more on it than i expected.

laughter in the rain

ao3

word count: 2.1k of pure fluff and crack

blurb: in which Nikolai is much too found of puns while Zoya is the polar opposite, and a young, incredibly chaotic Squaller child wreaks absolute havoc on literally everything.

(from tumblr ask: how about nikolai interacting with zoya's students and them finding nikolai's dad jokes funnier than zoya does (though she does secretly enjoy them)

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Zoya knew she was in for it when she agreed to teach Damyen to summon lightning. Possible consequences listed themselves in her head without regard for her anxiety: Getting half her hair burned off. An emergency fire drill, minus the drill, at the Little Palace. Possibly a few roasted pigeons falling from the sky. The ten-year old Squaller was undeniably one of her most gifted students, possessing a striking talent for both the Small Science and utter chaos. Unsurprising, really, considering the child both worshiped Nikolai and had a disposition remarkably close to the latter’s. Zoya’s rant on the young Grisha amused him to no end.

“A miniature me,” Nikolai mused, glancing thoughtfully at Zoya as he sat on the edge of their bed. “And shaping up to be quite the handful.”

“You have no idea,” she grumbled, brushing out a stubborn tangle in her hair, eyes still bleary from her slumber or lack thereof. She’d slept terribly and dreamt her kefta had been on fire. Though she was never much for fortune-tellers or prophetic hogwash, she had an inkling this particular dream would soon be reality. “You could be brothers with how much you have in common. Insubordinate. Endless chatter. Utterly chaotic.”

“Handsome?” Nikolai suggested, inspecting his boots before putting them on. “Charismatic and startlingly intelligent? Really, my dear; you don’t have to be quite so negative.”

“I’m likely about to be set on fire. I have every right to be negative.”

“Now, now,” He said soothingly. “I’m sure it will be a very- enlightening experience.”

Zoya froze mid-brush stroke, turning to give him a withering glare. “Nikolai,” she hissed.

He grinned. “Yes?”

“We have talked about this.”

“Have we?”

“No more puns,” Zoya ordered. For every joke Nikolai in his love for infuriating humor could crack, these were the worst. The only people in the palace that found them amusing were Tolya and Nikolai himself. Which meant, of course, that Tolya was the only one Nikolai didn’t subject to this banal torture.

“Why?” Nikolai whined. “I find them rather electrifying, don’t you?”

She slammed her brush onto the table and stalked towards him, seizing his wrist. “I will blow you out the window. I will tie you to a tree and let Damyen use you for target practice.”

“From the sound of him, he wouldn’t dare. He loves me.”

“He’s also remarkably similar to you and has every ounce of your taste for drama. He might, and if he doesn’t you have my word that I will do it myself.” Zoya let her eyes flash silver, static crackling in the air.

“Alright,” Nikolai sighed, unperturbed by the display. “Fine. I concede. It’s but a trifle. A storm in a teacup, if you w- ow !”

She had sent a small shock through his arm, and now scoffed at the reaction to her handiwork. “Consider this a warning,” she sniffed, before turning to leave the room. “I have a Squaller to teach.”

“Storming off, are we- ow- ”

Only once the door was safely slammed behind her did she let her frown shift, lips quirking upwards. “Damnable idiot,” she muttered, smile clear in her voice.

“You love me for it,” Nikolai called from inside the room.

Zoya scowled. She’d need to have the walls thickened.

-----------------------

To Zoya’s right, a flock of very terrified and slightly singed geese squawked and took to the skies. Their nest lay in a steaming pile of ash. She raised a single eyebrow at her pupil. “Damyen, this is-”

“Awesome!” He cackled, gathering the ash in his hands and tossing it in the air like confetti. The flakes drifted down, settling in Zoya’s hair and eyelashes.

“I was going to say dismal. I do not recall asking you to set birds on fire. Your aim is terrible.”

“But I shot lighting!” He stared at his fingertips with such utter reverence for himself that Zoya didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

“If you want to shoot lighting without setting your friends alight, I’d suggest you learn to hit your mark,” She said as sternly as possible. He’d picked up on the skill remarkably quickly, in all honesty, and the currents he summoned were more than good for a start. She was impressed, but her approval would only be gained with sufficient effort. And after more than a few sharp comments. “You aim worse than a blind mole rat. Again.”

Damyen sighed but brought his hands together once more, brow knitting in concentration as lightning began to form in his palm. Strands of his bronze hair fell onto his face and he squinted through them at the target. Adjusted his hands. Squinted again.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Zoya muttered. “Perhaps you’re waiting for the Saints to come riding down on a shiny chariot?”

He snorted, apparently genuinely amused, then let the bolt fly. At the same moment, a golden-haired figure strolled into the lightning’s path.

Zoya shrieked, hurtling a gust of wind towards Nikolai and blowing him to the ground. The streak of electricity slammed perfectly into the target’s center, setting the whole thing aflame. Damyen whooped, throwing up his hands and sending wind blowing every which way; scattering leaves into the air as Nikolai groaned and swore from his spot in the grass.

“Hello,” He said weakly. “Atmosphere’s rather charged around here, don’t you think?”

She huffed and pulled him to his feet, glaring daggers.

“No shocks,” Nikolai noted.

“I may change my mind. Care to explain yourself, Lantsov? In the habit of trying to kill yourself?”

“I hardly need to try. I’m a magnet for life threatening situations. Though I’ll admit that today it was a personal decision.” He beamed, spreading his hands. “I simply wanted to help you make good on your threat.”

Zoya rolled her eyes. “Why are you here? Has something come up with the Fjerdans? Did the Kerch renegotiate the trade-”

“Zoya, Zoya, Zoya,” Nikolai sighed, tucking a wayward lock of hair behind her ear. “You worry too much.”

“I worry exactly the right amount for this fickle country. Answer the question, or I truly will have him target you.”

“Is it so hard to believe I came here only to see you?”

“Yes.”

“You wound me. But if you must know, I thought I could be of some assistance.”

“As target practice?”

He wrinkled his nose. “I’ve had quite enough of that. As a mentor. As a bribe, perhaps; for your little firecracker over there.” He glanced at Damyen, still stripping trees of their hard-earned leaves and seemingly unaware that he’d nearly killed his beloved idol. “You seemed like you could use some help.”

She raised her chin disdainfully. “I am perfectly capable of wrangling the little-”

A loud crack sounded and the sky darkened rapidly, clouds swarming over their heads as rain began to pour furiously in a matter of seconds. A few meters away, a bright flash enveloped a tree, sending the trunk bursting into flames.

“Damyen!” Zoya screeched.

The boy stared at her, wide-eyed and grinning in a mix of elation and fear. “I made a storm, Your Highness!”

“Congratulations. Now do you mind stopping before you kill us all?”

“But I-” His eyes found Nikolai and realization set in as he beamed and the rain poured even harder. “Your Highness- es !”

Another boom, and a second, larger tree was wreathed in electricity and fire. It groaned, wobbling dangerously before crashing to the ground.

Nikolai’s brow furrowed, squinting against the pouring rain. “That,” he started. “Was a centuries-old sacred cypress planted by the first Lantsov kings. Now firewood. Impressive.”

Damyen’s chest puffed with pride.

“You can fawn over each other later,” Zoya snapped. “Damyen, enough with the storm. Turn it off before you start a forest fire.”

He grinned sheepishly. “How?”

She muttered obscenities, raising her hands and dispelling the clouds with a flick of her wrists. The sky cleared, small patches of pouring rain left to quell the still-burning trees as Nikolai whistled appreciatively, clapping; and Damyen gave a small bow. Saints, these two would be the death of her.

“So,” Nikolai said, soft enough that Damyen couldn’t hear. “Changed your mind?”

She sighed. “Fine. Make your attempt. You’ve always loved trying your hand at the impossible.”

“Improbable,” he corrected, then strolled over to Damyen, running a hand through the golden strands plastered to his forehead. Soaking wet and almost cooked alive, and he still looked every bit the regal prince; she thought, a grudging, now-familiar fondness rushing through her like a horrible, tooth-rotting sweet. She scowled.

“Lovely morning,” The prince greeted. Damyen bent over in a hasty bow, but Nikolai waved his hand. “No need. Are you the wonderfully gifted Squaller her Highness speaks of so highly?”

Zoya snorted, but Damyen’s eyes practically doubled in size. “She does?”

“Oh, yes,” Nikolai said seriously. “You’re quite talented, I hear.” He lowered his voice to a theatrical whisper. “Just between the two of us,” muttered Nikolai, very much loud enough for Zoya to be able to hear. “I think you remind her of herself, when she was your age.”

She opened her mouth; ‘What utter bullshit,’ already on the tip of her tongue but Nikolai raised a gloved finger, eyes twinkling. With much effort, she clamped her mouth shut.

Damyen seemed he might faint on the spot. Nikolai went on. “Really, there’s quite a lot you two have in common. Powerful. Willful. In possession of a rather strong attachment to me.”

The young Grisha was eating up his words. Zoya wanted to strangle the both of them.

Nikolai took a seat on a faintly smoking tree stump. “You seem to have quite a lot going on for you, learning to summon lighting and all. A rather current affair, don’t you think?”

The silence seemed to stretch on infinitely. Then Damyen gave a toothy grin and guffawed far, far louder than that sorry excuse for a joke deserved.

“Oh for Saints’ sake, Nikolai,” she groaned, shoving her face into her hands.

“Zoya, dear; no need to thunder about like that,” Nikolai said soothingly. Damyen bit his cheek in an attempt to control himself, but whatever smidgen of respect he had left for her kept him silent for barely a second before he burst into a fit of giggles.

Zoya threw her arms up in frustration and from the clouds a deep, deafening roar answered her-- how’s that for thundering, you nincompoop-- as the sky flashed once more, bright streaks lacing every cloud in an intricate web. Damyen’s gleeful expression faltered at the sight but Nikolai only grinned wider, patting Damyen on the shoulder before standing and holding a hand out to catch the rain.

“Don’t let her dampen your spirits,” he called sagely over the rumble, and it took a good amount of self control not to smite him on the spot. Nikolai flashed a thumbs-up at the boy before jogging over to the spot where Zoya stood, arms crossed and glaring. He clasped her hand in his, opening his mouth to speak.

“Not one word,” she warned. “Not a single pun or I will have Tolya read you every Ravkan epic in existence while dangling you off the palace roof.”

“No puns,” he promised. “For now. I only ask that perhaps you let the sun shine through-”

“I will not sugarcoat my instructions for whatever reason.”

“The storm, my dear,” he said gently. “Not your teaching methods. We’re nearly soaked through.”

She glanced towards his dripping sleeves and the damp fabric of her own kefta. “Fine,” Zoya muttered grudgingly, raising her free hand to call away the storm and let the clouds fade to fog. “But enough of this foolery. I can’t have Damyen running around being able to summon lightning and having no idea how to wrangle it. He has to learn.”

“And he will. Let me work my magic and I’ll have him perfectly eager to learn to control his.”

“Without the puns.”

“With slightly less puns?” He asked, brow knit together as if the fate of his jokes were a matter of life and death.

Zoya frowned, but Nikolai’s pleading look wore away at her and she sighed. “Slightly less puns.”

His eyes lit up and he beamed, pressing a kiss to the back of her hand. “You won’t regret this,” he promised.

“Oh, I will,” she remarked drily. “But perhaps not enough to shock you again if you can manage the walking fire hazard.”

“As you wish, Your Highness.” He bowed theatrically before turning and running back to Damyen with a ridiculous grin on his face, sunlight gilding his hair and shining in his gaze; his form so full of light that she couldn’t help but smile.

“Nikolai,” she called after him.

He turned, cocking his head. “Nazyalensky? Is everything alright?”

Zoya closed her eyes, sighing deeply. She opened her palm, summoning the smallest thundercloud, letting raindrops pool in her outstretched hand. “Right as rain, Lantsov.”

He laughed, and the sound, golden and unrestrained and bright, was worth every joke she’d ever have to endure.

#zoyalai #i am an idiot #zoya nazyalensky #nikolai lantsov #horrible puns terrible puns #nikolai duology #grishaverse #tortoise tries to write #me

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babbushka · 3 years

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The Shape of You (3/12)

Supreme Leader Kylo Ren x Reader

You do a good job of it, staying out of the way. You’re quiet, you’re unsuspecting, you’re practically invisible; just the way you like it. Until one sunny summer day in 1962, the government base where you work acquires an unusual asset, and everything you know is about to change. In the race to save this lonely, desperate, beautiful man, loyalties are shaken on all sides – and the bonds of true love are tested.

7.4k ; CW: mentions of injury, mentions of past torture, angst

Tumblr Masterlist | Available on AO3

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When you wake, it is dark once again.

For a moment, you blink and stare at the ceiling, the phantom image of his face swimming in the inky black of night. Holding on to that face, you tentatively reach a hand out into the air, hoping to touch him, hoping to feel something.

In the end, it is nothing but empty air, and your hand drops.

“The only station for when you’re on the go, tune in to AM W-6-Z-O!” The swingin’ dancers on the radio blare once again, an official signal that the time for dreaming is over.

With this new encounter, this new…you don’t even know what it is, you can’t help but feel your pulse quicken. Everything is the same – you will get up to brew your coffee, Armitage will pound against the wall, you will share your breakfast and take three buses to work – but simultaneously, nothing will ever be the same again. Because possibly for the first time in many years, you do not dread the thought of going to work.

Not that you dreaded it, work, not really. It was a good job, an important job, a job that was part of something bigger, much bigger than yourself. But you could not deny the excitement that simmers just below your skin at the thought of it.

The thought of seeing him again.

“You’re chipper this morning.” Armitage scowls as he opens the door for you, a bright cheerful smile on your face.

“Haven’t the foggiest idea what you mean.” You breeze right past him, placing the percolator down on his pot-holder that he keeps on the counter just for this very occasion. Immediately going to his cupboards, you begin to remove the flour and sugar, giving him a knowing glance and asking even though you know the answer, “Pancakes?”

“Please, god knows I’m going to need something sweet today.” He groans, moves to sit at the table.

Sometimes, you can’t help but think how domestic this is. How your friendship had blossomed into a bond so much stronger than you had ever expected. You wonder if Armitage thinks it too, if he ever is reminded of a lifetime ago, when he was married to a beautiful woman and had a house in the suburbs, if when you pour his coffee and flip pancakes on the stove, his heart aches for that long gone time.

If he does, he says nothing about it, so you don’t bring it up.

“What have they done now?” You ask instead, knowing that this is a topic of conversation in which Armitage will always have something to say, always have something to complain about.

“It’s just these essays. Half the class it would seem, completely missed the point of the extra credit film.” He sighs, gesturing to a stack of papers once again sitting on the kitchen table.

“Oh that’s alright, at least Boris is happy.” Sliding pancakes off of the pan and onto a plate, you douse them in a generous helping of syrup and powdered sugar for the both of you, before moving to sit opposite him at the table.

Just then, the lights flicker on and off, making you both frown. The power had never had much of an issue before, what with the movie theater just downstairs needing those extra generators. You glance out the window, it wasn’t raining, and it wasn’t windy – both telltale signs of potential power failure.

“Do you ever worry about what will happen when he has to shut down the building?” Armitage grumbles, carefully and very specifically cutting his stack of pancakes into wedge pieces.

“No, because he won’t.” You shut that train of thought down at once within him, knowing that while he likes to pretend otherwise, your Professor has a proclivity for the dramatics unlike anyone else you’ve ever met. “He has renters for a reason after all, and the summer tourists bring in enough to make ends meet.”

Armitage thinks about that for a moment or two, before accepting the answer.

“You’re right.” He concedes, sounding resigned.

“I’m always right.” You wink, and the two of you finish your breakfast in companionable silence.

------------------

When you leave Armitage’s apartment and go back to your own, you cannot deny the rush that is the thought of seeing him again. It seems so silly, and of course it is silly, but something in you wants to look nice for him.

You fix your hair and pick out your cleanest most nicely ironed uniform, concerned for the first time about how it fits you, how it forms to your body. It is a modest uniform – you are a cleaning woman after all – but you find that despite the drab color palette and utilitarian shape, you look good. The clock chimes, and you realize that there isn’t much time to fuss, so instead of standing in front of the mirror, you pick a pair of heels off your grand shoe display, and hope that he finds the bright blue color appealing.

Dawdling had never been a trait of yours before, and now you understand why.

The bus is sitting and waiting at the stop when you exit your apartment building, and you run in those bright blue heels as fast as your legs can take you to make it just in time. The click-clack of your steps on the pavement alert everyone nearby, as you bolt towards the bus. Water on the ground from the night’s dew reflects the colors of the neon signs all around you, and when your foot splashes in one of the light puddles, a rainbow scatters around your ankles.

You make a beeline straight for the doors, which are open and welcoming you like a warm embrace, and only once the momentum of your body has thrown you into your seat, do you let out a long exhale.

“Thank you, I’m so sorry!” You could bury your face into your hands with how embarrassed you are, but your hands are shaking from the adrenaline of nearly missing the bus.

Missing this bus would have been bad, very very bad. It would have meant that you’d be late to work, and you have never once, not in the entire ten years on the job, have you been late for work. Such an irregularity would have raised suspicion, would have called attention to you – more attention than there already was. They wouldn’t like that, it would compromise your larger job, your more important mission -- you could not afford to be late. So, you sigh with relief and will your heart to stop pounding in your chest; all was well, you are on the bus, it did not pull away from the stop without you on it, you will be there on time.

“Good morning Miss (Y/N), no need to apologize, you know I’ll always wait for you.” Mr. Henry’s kind eyes glance at you with amusement through the rearview mirror, and you once again thank your lucky stars to have a friend like him.

Much like Armitage, you had never expected to befriend the bus driver. You had of course planned on being friendly and polite, but the extent to which you enjoyed the elderly man’s company had surprised you. And what’s more, you were constantly surprised by his willingness to be friendly with you in return. It reminded you that perhaps, there was a solidarity at the bottom – when there is no one to look out for the people like you and him, you look out for one another.

Could Mr. Henry have gotten in trouble by waiting for you? Would he be late to his other stops now? These were questions that you couldn’t help but think, but you have to wonder if they were questions he considered. Surely it would have been easier to simply leave you behind, but he hadn’t done such a thing, and you cannot express how grateful you are for that.

You resolve to thank him somehow, some way more meaningful than simply the words. It strikes you then, that despite speaking to one another every day, you still know very little about the man. You know he has a beautiful wife and a blossoming garden, you know he picks up a cup of coffee from the donut shop before starting his route, and you know which music stations he prefers to listen to. But beyond that, you have both remained relatively private.

He was not so different from you in that regard, you suppose.

Most people are not so different from one another, you suppose.

“For absolutely no reason at all, what is your favorite type of baked good, Mr. Henry?” You ask after a few moments, when the bus has left the stop and has continued its route, the Las Vegas strip a myriad of lights and colors, blinking and twirling in the night.

“Oh you don’t have to go doing all that – ”

“But I want to.” You insist, “Please let me?”

He looks up at you once again through the rearview window, and you see the sparkle of a smile in his eye. You wonder when the last time someone did something kind for him was, someone doing it just out of the want to see him happy.

“I may or may not be fond of those caramel brownies you make.” Sheepishly, almost as if he will be scolded for revealing such information, he confesses this to you.

You recall a time when you had to bring something to the company party, a holiday get together many years ago. You had been charged with bringing a dessert, and as a thank you to Mr. Henry’s continual kindness and hard work, you offered him one.

It makes you strangely emotional, to know that he had enjoyed it enough to remember it, after all these years.

“How very interesting to know.” You smile, and he smiles back, before he turns his attention to the next bus stop, and your window for conversation comes to a close.

She is waiting for you at the bus exchange today, standing and huddled in the large group of other passengers. It is chilly out in the desert tonight, and she has a beautiful black and white checkerboard coat wrapped around her body. In moments like these, watching the steam and fog of the bus exchange plume around her feet, Gwendoline reminds you of a movie star.

Perhaps in another life, her face would light up the screen, her silvery blonde hair and striking cheekbones commanding every man in the theater to fall head over heels in love with her. Sometimes she talks about it, about moving away from this city, about quitting her job.

Perhaps in another life, you might go with her.

Armitage would surely come too, wouldn’t he? He could get a job as a professor anywhere, he could pack up his apartment and join you and Gwen on a trip to Los Angeles, or New York City, or perhaps somewhere abroad – but you can’t, can you. You can’t leave.

And so, as selfish as it is, you hope that Gwen never leaves either, because you’re not so sure what you would do, were she to go.

This is especially true, as she catches sight of you politely making your way to where she is standing, and she smiles and throws a hand up to wave to you, as if you didn’t already see her. Gwen was, in so many ways, a beacon of color in the world of black and grey.

“(Y/N)!” She hollers happily to you, competing with the noise of the bus exchange.

The hiss and hydraulics of brakes and doors opening and closing, the sound of engines revving and radios humming, of the news playing on black and white screens behind a window of glass, of people talking and smoking and eating and laughing even though it’s too early for it all, still through this noise Gwen’s voice cuts through.

“Morning,” You smile back at her, offering a thermos as is your tradition every morning. “Coffee?”

“You’re a saint,” Gwen responds, accepting it as is her tradition. “Oh I love when you wear the blue shoes!”

She takes a step back for you to point your toe and extend your leg ever so slightly, the dazzling satin shining like sapphires in the artificial light of the fluorescent overheads. One of the men waiting in the crowd with you lets out a whistle when your skirt rides up just enough to show a little thigh, and you have to physically restrain Gwendoline from snapping her teeth at him.

“I really like this pair, I don’t know why I don’t wear them more often.” Chuckling just a little at your friend’s fierce protective nature, you draw her attention back to the shoes. It wouldn’t do to get into a fight just minutes before being in an enclosed crowded space together.

“Maybe because they’re the least practical thing for a janitor?” Gwendoline mutters, still shooting the man dirty looks. He has, thankfully, backed off – probably for his own safety. Rarely do men ever expect women to snap back, and oh how Gwendoline’s bite is worse than her bark.

“Maybe, but they are so beautiful.” You shrug, and this at the very least, Gwen can understand.

“Come, I think that’s our bus now.” She whispers to you so as to not draw the attention of the crowd around you, knowing how the rush of everyone wanting to get onto the bus and secure a seat can often lead to a mob.

Sure enough, as she pushes her way to the front and you follow her diligently, when the bus rounds the corner and the pushing and shoving begins, you two are already on your way to the back of the bus, coats and purses in your laps, a deck of cards ready to be shuffled.

In the back of the bus, you and Gwen hide your faces behind a hand of cards each, a game of Go Fish that you are sorely losing. You almost wish that the bus would hit a bump in the road, so that the cards could go scattering all over the floor and you wouldn’t be shamed with the loss, but then the thought of having to clean it all up makes you reconsider.

Gwen, for her part, doesn’t ease up on you one bit, a great big grin on her face as she claims yet another of your cards for her own little pile.

“I dreamt of him again.” You bring up, as nonchalantly as you can.

The bus has greatly reduced down its number of passengers, thankfully. No longer packed like sardines, you and Gwen have enough room to spread out, your belongings no longer piled up on your lap. Instead, they rest on the seat just across the little aisle, as you normally do. Still, it’s not entirely empty, there are quite a few stops to go before the bus pulls over into the dark of the desert and identification is requested.

All this means, is that while you can speak, it has to still be in hushed tones, lest someone from outside the building’s personnel overhear. Gwen hears you perfectly well despite your near whisper, and her face practically alights in the same way those flood lights search the sky.

“Please tell me there’s a face this time!” She abandons the cards to grasp at your hands.

For someone who prides herself on practicality, Gwendoline was incredibly invested in these dreams that you have. Every time you bring it up, she is genuinely and completely interested in hearing more, and you’re more than happy to indulge her.

“There is, and you won’t believe it, but it was, well, it was the Asset.” The last word is whispered so quietly that you might as well just be mouthing the words.

Upon hearing this, her eyes widen, mouth falling open ever so slightly.

“You’ve seen him?” Her shocked whisper makes you cast a glance around.

Good, you think, no one is paying any attention to you, everyone who is left has seated themselves at the front of the bus, knowing that they will be getting off soon and not wanting to have to shuffle through the narrow aisle.

“I – ”

“(Y/N) you didn’t sneak into the lab after all that, did you?” Gwendoline suddenly turns frustrated, exasperated with you. She hisses through clenched teeth, “After that creep Tarkin warned us specifically not to do that very thing?”

“I couldn’t help it Gwen, you can’t tell me that you’re not so curious to know what’s going on in there!” You explain, and she only scoffs and rolls her eyes.

“Of course I’m curious! But I also have some sense of self-preservation.” She looks down at where her hands are clutching yours, turns your palms over in hers. You look down, see how calloused and rough the both of your hands are from a decade of harsh chemicals and hard work. “What if that man is dangerous? What if he hurts you?”

“He can’t, he’s behind bulletproof glass, I don’t think he can even hurt himself with how secure they’ve got him.” You try reassuring her, and it seems that at least for the moment, she is convinced.

Chewing on her lip for a moment or two, eventually she relents to your assurances, and a great big smile spreads over her face once more. You have half a mind to ask her what lipstick she’s wearing, and there you go again, daydreaming about looking nice for this man…

“What does he look like?” Gwen snaps you out of your reverie, and you duck your head, bashful.

You’ve been thinking about him and the way he looks ever since you laid your eyes on him, on his incredibly impressive frame.

“He’s huge. Built like a refrigerator, tall and wide. His face was hard to see, he wears a mask that covers nearly half of it, but his hair is long and dark, and his eyes…” You can see it so clearly, there in your mind’s eye; can see his flexing biceps, the abs, the thick trail of hair that disappears behind those swim trunks they have him in.

With a knowing smile and a shake of her head, Gwendoline sighs.

“You’re going to see him again, aren’t you.” It’s not so much a question, as it is a resignation. She knew you well enough to know that once you’ve decided something, once you’ve put your mind to something, there was very little that could stop you.

If only she knew how deep that sentiment ran.

“I have to, I promised him that I would.” You say, that giddy excitement returning to you once more.

You know that the lab is going to be on your list, you and Gwen are the only ones with high enough clearance for it, you know that at some point in the day, you’ll be face to face with him once again. And that thought thrills you, it has your leg bouncing, your pulse quickening.

Gwen can feel it in your palms, and she lets go of your hands so that you can fiddle with something to keep those busy fingers satisfied.

“Just…just be safe, okay?” She whispers, “You know I’ll cover for you, but I need you to promise me that you’ll be safe.”

Much like Armitage, and even like Boris, or Mr. Henry, you find yourself once again wondering how you got so lucky to have friends so willing to look out for you. You would do the same for any of them in a heartbeat, of course, but something about the knowledge that Gwen would lie to Mrs. Parker, or even Robert – something that could risk her job – made your heart clench.

“I promise.” You whisper.

She looks at you hard, trying to see what thoughts are going on inside your head, before letting the conversation go entirely, picking up her cards once again, determined to beat you at a few more hands before pulling up to the shuttle stop.

------------------

The morning passes uneventfully, as the mornings typically do. Today though, there’s an undeniable pep in your step, a glow about you that the other janitors notice. It’s not that they hadn’t noticed you before, they had of course – but with Gwendoline around, usually she absorbed all the attention. It was flustering to be on the receiving end of it, listening as the boys in the halls got a little too chummy with you, thinking your smiles were for them. Things like:

“Lookin’ good (Y/N)!”

“Where are you off to with a smile that big?”

“Fancy a smoke with me and the boys?”

Are whistled and shot your way, much to your amusement -- funny what a little confidence and a pair of heels could do!

You politely reject everyone’s advances, diligent about getting your work done and doing it well. The sooner you finish everything on your clipboard, the sooner you can get to the lab. It’s on your list, as you knew it would be, but it’s so far down and comes after so many other tasks, that you feel as though Mrs. Parker knew you were eager to return to the tank and the man inside of it.

Thoughts of the man consume you, as you go about your list. Nothing was too strenuous today which you were grateful for, it wouldn’t do to be too exhausted to spend time with him. So, as you empty all the little trashcans and ashtrays, as you clean windows and glass panes in offices, as you take the great dust broom to the floors, you let yourself wonder about him.

What were they doing to him today? Were they going to hurt him again? Would he kill someone again?

The last time you saw him, he was wounded, and that bacta shit had healed him. Would they be wounding him further, or did they have what they needed? You wondered if the scientists in the lab would be so careless as to leave their notes out again. The boys back home would be more than interested in reading further developments, you were sure.

Reminded of the boys, you feel more determined than ever to figure out what’s going on with this man, why he’s there in the first place. Surely he must be Russian, why else would the government be so keen on keeping him as contained as he is? Although, you don’t recall ever seeing a plane like the one that was being dissected in that warehouse, so maybe he wasn’t.

Maybe he wasn’t human at all…the thought pops into your head, and you blink it away.

The stories of alien life in Area 51 were just that – stories. No matter how often you liked to joke about them with Gwen, that’s all that it was, just jokes. Still, that ion engine, the strange shape of the wings, the strange gel that seems to have otherworldly healing properties…it raised so many questions that you simply didn’t have any answers to.

As you sweep the floors, back and forth and back and forth with your big dust broom, you wonder if perhaps you’ll be able to speak to the man. Perhaps he could give you some answers, perhaps you could help him.

You have no idea how you could, but maybe if the two of you worked together, you could figure out a way. One thing was for certain, you felt something for this mystery man. A sense of protection, a bond of some sort. It didn’t have a name, didn’t have much to define it at all – but it was there. Much like the dream, that reoccurring dream, it was indefinite and blurred around the edges, but it was there all the same.

For a brief moment, you wonder what the man dreams about.

You wonder if he dreams at all, in the tank.

------------------

Time passes strangely, in the building. You’re certain that you’ve just gotten there, had just hopped off the shuttle with Gwen – but in the blink of an eye, it’s lunch time. Gwendoline very shyly lets you know that she’s going to be having lunch with Mary, and true to your word the other day, you’re nothing but encouraging.

Besides, it means that you could spend your lunch in the lab, it was the next place on your list anyway, no one could be angry with you for being there, no one could accuse you of being out of place. In the locker room though, you find yourself frozen, standing in front of the little metal locker that you call yours. There’s a compact in your purse, and you pull it out, look at yourself, really look at yourself.

You feel so foolish for all this, especially when you open Gwen’s locker and find one of her tubes of lipstick. She always keeps a couple in her locker for emergencies, something you found silly, but now are eternally grateful for. Picking out a shade that best compliments your skin tone, you apply it carefully. The damn thing is likely going to smudge anyway while you eat your lunch, but at the very least you’ll look put together when you first arrive at the lab.

He better be appreciative of all this, you think to yourself with a nervous chuckle, he better care about all the effort you’re going through. Gwen would tell you that men never care, but she’s not here right now, off playing footsie in the courtyard with Mary.

As you walk the halls down in the bowels of the building, you realize how utterly alone you are in here. Everyone is on lunch, all the scientists, the janitors, the management. Not a single soul is in these halls, the greenish bluish light no competition for the sunshine that waits them near the picnic tables outside. You don’t mind, not one bit, and in fact it thrills you, the thought that you might be with him all alone.

Swiping your keycard through the little number pad, the doors beep and slowly open. Three layers of bulletproof steel slide open, one set horizontally, one set vertically, and one set diagonally. This lab would likely be perfectly impenetrable, in case of an attack, but you recognize that as well designed as it is to keep things out, it is also designed to keep things in.

Things like the man, who finally, after what seems like a lifetime, you will get to see again.

The lab is, much like the rest of this wing of the building, empty.

Once again you are faced with the mechanical nature of it all, the dark grey metal walls and floor, the tables with all sorts of piles stacked high atop them. The lighting is dark, kept dim, even dimmer than the halls outside. You hold your breath as the doors shut behind you, as they lock time and time again, sealing the lab away from the rest of the world.

You park your janitorial cart against the wall, your brown paper bag lunch clutched in your hands, just for something to hold, something to keep your hands occupied so that they don’t shake.

"Hello?" You call out gently, hopefully.

The tank is on the far end of the lab, and you take care to approach it cautiously. There are a million bubbles filling the tank, the bacta gel having been disturbed, and recently. Those bubbles trap the air and make the gel look nearly white with all the foam. You have to get closer, have to approach the glass, straining to see inside it.

“It’s just me, I’ve come back to visit you.” You try again, this time speaking a little louder. Maybe he just couldn’t hear you, through the glass and the gel.

Bracing yourself for him to scare the shit out of you with a startling appearance, you nearly press your nose to the tank. But seconds go by, and there is no activity. A deep deep sense of disappointment and fear spike through your body – if he was not here, where was he? What had they done to him? Where had they taken him? Was he alright -- ?

The immediate string of questions is interrupted by a splashing sound coming from your left, and you whirl around, clutching the brown paper bag to your chest.

He is out of the tank, but he is still here, still in the room with you. For whatever reason, he has been moved from the tank to the pool, and you know this because as you watch with wide eyes, he rises up out of the water, standing up to his full height on his two legs, strong legs, powerful thighs that flex and carry his body towards you.

Remaining perfectly still, you do your best not to gasp. You had thought perhaps, the glass from the tank had distorted his proportions, maybe he wasn’t nearly as big as you had thought. But you’re wrong, he’s even bigger somehow, in the flesh, in front of you. He must be over six feet tall, and twice as wide as the normal man, or at least, twice as wide as any man you had ever seen.

But the most unexpected thing of all, is that he is not wearing the mask.

You have a clear, unobstructed view of his face for the first time, and it takes your breath away. He is utterly, completely, totally handsome. Your imagination could have never come up with the configuration of his features, never in a million years. His nose, so strong and proud looks slightly broken from the front, but when he shakes the water away from his hair and you catch sight of his profile, it is beautifully sloped and triangular. His lips have to be the most full and plush that you’ve ever seen, his ears are large as they poke out from the dark drenched blackness of his hair.

You’re staring, you know you are, but he doesn’t seem deterred. In fact, he’s staring right back at you, looking at you with soulful brown eyes that seem to be sharper than anything you’ve ever seen, eyes that seem to be taking you in with the same level of intensity that you do him.

“Oh!” You realize that he can hear you now, you realize that this is the chance you’ve been hoping for, so you reach out your hand for him to shake, and offer him a friendly, “Hello.”

The man’s eyes track the movement in a way that can only be described as predatory, as an apex creature focusing all their energy on their prey. Strangely though, you don’t feel like prey. Keeping your hand extended, you take slow even breaths, showing him that you mean no harm, showing him that you won’t hurt him.

You’re not like those men, those scientists, you won’t hurt him.

“My name is (Y/N). It’s a pleasure to meet you.” You introduce yourself, speaking as carefully and clearly as you can. “What’s your name? Can you understand me?”

The man simply looks at you, as if in a trance of some kind. You look around, check over your shoulder to make sure, absolutely sure, that no one is around.

Once you’re determined that the coast is clear, and this man continues to take in the sight of you, you move one step forward, closer to the edge of the pool.

“Can you understand me now?” These words come in another language, a switch of your tongue that would have you arrested on site if anyone had heard.

He frowns, confused, and you wonder if this is the first time anyone has tried being polite to him since his capture. You’re about to retract your hand, when suddenly, he lifts his own, his arm tensing as he reaches for you – only to be stopped by long chains that are attached to cuffs on each of his wrists, and to the metal collar he wears around his throat.

The man looks at his bindings, and strains against them with a strangled shout of frustration. His muscles bulge, but it’s to no avail, whatever he has been shackled in, is too strong for him to break through. You have to sit, your legs unable to support you for the moment as you take him all in. Settling on a step near the edge of the pool, you lean in enough for this man to do the same. He too sits, just on the other side of the edge, as close to you as the chains will allow.

Reaching your hand further, further, further still, the man freezes as you place a palm to his cheek. The skin of his scar is smooth, and you find that surprising, as you stroke his face. Eyes closing, the man lets out a shaky shuddering exhale, nuzzling into your palm. He reminds you of a bear trapped in spiked teeth out in the forest, or a lion in the cage of a circus.

“Why do they have you chained and collared like this, why are you here?” The Russian flows freely now, you no longer hold it back the way that you might have in front of anyone else.

Then, suddenly, the strangest noises come out of his mouth. You think that he might be in pain for a minute, but then you realize no, he is speaking to you, impassioned and desperate, his voice is deep, rumbling, coming from the depths of his chest, a baritone that vibrates down inside your bones.

This is the voice that you heard in your dream, you realize. The voice parroting your words back to you, now you know why it had sounded so strange, so off. This man didn’t speak English, and he had only been mimicking the sounds, not knowing what it meant. You’re not sure what this man speaks, and it pains you, it pains you to not share this with him.

“I – I’m sorry I don’t understand.” You have to cut him off, putting your hand over his mouth to interrupt him, to get him to stop. You’re not sure if he even knows what you’re saying, if he can understand but not translate it out of his own mouth, you don’t know. “I’m familiar with ten different languages but yours isn’t one of them, I’m sorry.”

The man looks so sad, devastated, and that at least feels like maybe he can understand you. All at once, you recognize that if he can understand you, there may be hope. Perhaps if you both learn to communicate in a way that doesn’t rely on words, perhaps if you can find a way, you can help him.

That will require some planning, great planning, careful planning.

The man is watching you, he rests his head on the ledge of the pool, his black hair slinking and sliding down the strong muscles of his back. It is as if he is telling you to not be afraid of him, the very same way you were trying to tell him not to be afraid of you.

It strikes you, for a moment, how human he is. Even if by some cosmic improbability he is an alien, he is human. His stomach growls then, loudly, so loudly that it makes you laugh, and you shut yourself up immediately, afraid of scaring him with the noise. He doesn’t go anywhere though, his eyes only widen, making you smile.

The man mimics the motion, smiling back at you, a small laugh of his own.

He has dimples, you think, as you only grow more and more attached to him, and his teeth are so crooked.

“Here, I don’t know what kind of shit they feed you, but you must be hungry.” You rifle through the little brown paper bag that you’ve been holding in a death grip this entire time, pulling out the first thing you see. The clementine fills your palm, you offer it to him cautiously, encouraging, “Go ahead, you can have it, I promise it’s okay.”

The man, wherever he has come from, must not have seen one of these before, because he takes it in his hand and immediately goes to bite through the rind. Your hand flies out and grabs his before he can do so, and despite it all, you laugh again.

He scowls, thinking you’re making fun of him, so you simply shake your head and demonstrate how to peel the hard outer flesh of the fruit away.

“Don’t make fun of me for the way I peel it, I can never get it to come off in one go.” You mutter, wondering wondering wondering if he can understand you.

Watching diligently and carefully, he sits patiently at the edge of the pool, his palm extended, resting near your hands. Piece by piece you peel the clementine, always trying to get it in one spiral but failing, as usual. Eventually, once the floor has been littered with peel and the clementine is bare, you pry the citrus into segments, and place one in his hand.

It looks so small, comically small in the man’s palm, even smaller as he raises the piece to his mouth and pops it in between his teeth, the juice squirting into your face, making you laugh once again. The man’s face lights up immediately, already asking with those strangled sounding words that you cannot understand, a language foreign to even your ears.

“It’s good right?” You hope that that’s what he’s saying, you hope that he likes it. Giving him the whole thing, you watch as he delicately pulls the segments apart. “Bright and sweet. It’s just about the only thing bright in this whole place, hm?”

Instead of eating the entire thing as you would have expected him to do, the man thoughtfully gives you half of the segments. You notice that they are the larger pieces, the ones that must be more flavorful, juicier. He is kind, you decide, kind enough to offer you the better of the halves at the very least.

“Why are you here?” You whisper, knowing he cannot answer. “Why do they torture you so?”

There are no fresh wounds this time, you are glad to see. Nothing healing or inflicted, just the smoothed over scars. You long to touch them, the pink lines that mar his flesh, but he is a person of agency, and you will not disrespect him the way that these scientists do.

So instead, you offer your hand out to him once more, and after careful consideration, the man presses his cheek against your palm. Your thumb rubs soothing circles against the little beauty marks and freckles that pepper his skin, and you sigh.

“I’m going to figure out a way for us to communicate. I don’t know how, but I will.” You tell him, tell yourself, “You won’t be alone, I’ll help you, I just need to figure out how.”

Out in the hall beyond the sealed off lab, a bell chimes, signaling that lunch is over. Regret and disappointment rise up in your throat like acid, you don’t want to leave him, you don’t want to go away from him. He has been in your dreams, all this time, it has been him, of this you’re now sure. But you have a job, you have a responsibility, and you cannot lose it now.

Pulling away, he makes a noise of protest, and this is a noise you can understand.

“I have to clean. You can watch me, if you’d like, but I can’t just sit here all day, or else they’ll be very angry with me.” You explain to him, willing him to understand, “And if they’re angry, then I can’t visit again.”

The man sighs, chews on the segmented clementine.

With that, you move to the other side of the lab where you’ve parked your cart. The only thing on the list is to mop the floors, and you find that you hate that, you wish there were more, wish that you could have more time. You never thought you’d think this, but you hate how efficient you’ve become, how they’ve entrusted you with the jobs they know you are quick at. It is a double edged sword, because if you weren’t good at it, then maybe they wouldn’t have assigned this lab to you in the first place.

Dunking your mop in the solution that you make yourself – vinegar and baking soda, and a little dish soap – you begin to work, the thing you’re actually there for. It is very obvious that he’s watching you, from his spot in the pool. He walks back and forth, almost stalking you, his hulking frame tethered to you by an invisible string. When you go to the right, so does he. When you double back to the left, he goes as well. You smile, hoping that he finds the incredible mundanity of it all not so mundane.

“You’re very handsome. I’m only saying this because I know you’ve got no idea what it is that I’m saying, otherwise I’d be dying of embarrassment. But you’re handsome.” You admit when your back is turned to him, swishing the mop this way and that, picking up the little stains and debris that have stuck to the floor in the time since it was last mopped. “I was wondering what your face looked like, without the mask.”

You continue to mop, and he continues to watch you.

In a strange sense, it is almost like a dance. The sound of the water splashing as he moves back and forth, as he creates little waves and currents, acts as a rhythm, a steady beat to which you mop. His breathing is calm, and he seems to be in a relaxed mood. Maybe he has been hypnotized by the repetitive motions that you make, or maybe, a hopeful part of you thinks, maybe he feels completely at ease with you.

The thought sours in the back of your throat, because you know that once you have finished this, you will have to leave.

You prolong it, you try your best, you really do. But eventually there comes a point in which you cannot procrastinate any longer, you cannot draw it out. The floor is mopped, your clipboard is checked.

Carefully, walking over the freshly mopped tiles slowly and deliberately so that you don’t slip, you sit on the edge of the pool once again, something painful like sorrow making your head hurt.

“I’m done.” You whisper, “I have to go now.”

He’s alarmed by this, the man. He seizes forward, rushes to reach for you with wide panicked eyes, but the chains around his neck yank him back, and he stumbles for a moment, nearly loses his footing in the water. You could cry, with the desperation in the words that he speaks, with the way he reaches for you with bound hands.

You lean as far into the pool as you can, your arms wrapping around him, nearly toppling over into the water with how far forward you are. You don’t care, so what if you should fall? You cannot bear to see him so sad, and so you pull him into an embrace. He holds you tightly, hands curling in your hair, breathing in your smell.

“I know, I know I’m sorry – I don’t want to leave you. But I’ve got more work to do.” Your voice wobbles, hating this, hating how he’s chained, hating how he’s going to be all alone, how he’s going to be tortured and harmed in your absence. You hate it, and he doesn’t want to let you go, you can tell by how strong of a grip he has on you as he talks and talks and talks in a language you don’t know.

There is nothing you can do today though, to help him. For the first time in your life, you feel overwhelmingly insignificant, in the way that you can’t do anything to help him.

“I’ll come back tomorrow, even if it’s not on the list, okay? I’ll come back, I promise.” Your hands cup his cheeks, looking at one another, your eyes boring into his. “I’ll always come back.”

You let go of him now though, and you turn your back to him, mopping up your steps so that the footprints do not give you away.

Swiping your keycard through the number pad once more, the doors open for you, and you do your best not to cry when you hear his pained shout muffled behind the steel.

#kylo ren x reader #kylo ren/reader #kylo ren x you #kylo ren/you #kylo ren fanfiction #kylo ren reader insert #supreme leader kylo ren #shape of water au #sow au #my writing #kylo ren angst #kylo ren fluff #adam driver fanfiction #adcu

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halfwall · 3 years

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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀❪ ⠀ * ⠀ ─ hello! i’m so excited for this genuinely, it is so seksi and socks + soda did such an amazing job with it. eunjung is my newest muse and the best way i can describe her is if you took a garden snake and aged it up manually in the sims and then took it into the spore game and gave it lips and made it a predator. in other words, my very own looks like a cinnamon roll could k-word you ( kiss? kill? your choice <3 ). this intro is a condensed version of my goog dooc and it’s still long <3 pls love n plot w me anyway. love u guys.

❪ kang mina, cis woman, she / her, twenty one. ❫ i can feel red energy, that must be yun eunjung. the third year print journalism & international relations major works as a bookkeeper at the house of the lucky gander, and is known around the manor as the yellow wallpaper. i’ve heard whispers about how they’re critical and pedantic, but everyone says they’re persevering and formidable. i don’t know what to believe... but with cc pulling the strings...

links: google doc, pinterest, stats, wanted connections.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𝐚𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭

full name : yun eunjung

nickname(s) / alias(es) : emma yoon ( english name, not used ), tbd

age / dob : twenty one / apr 18 ‘99

hometown : tbd , oregon

current location : fortuna , maine

ethnicity : korean

nationality : english

gender : cis woman

pronouns : she / her

orientation : bisexual

religion : agnostic.

family : yun hajun ( father, alive ), han minji ( mother, alive ), yun eunsang ( twin brother, status unknown ), yun sangjung ( younger brother, deceased ).

face claim : kang mina

language(s) spoken : korean ( first language ), english

speech : sharp tongued. she’s a lot of opinions and a lot of things to say, therefore has never learned how to phrase things in a way that would deem her polite. often blunt, she’ll be quick to rip off the bandaid and just say what needs to be said. she doesn’t speak with much class or extravagancies, rather falls toward crassness and crudeness due to her upbringing.

hair : quite dark, a nice chocolate in the sun and a cool onyx in the dark. often tied back, though eunjung is only ever seen with her hair in two distinct styles: tied back messily or let down naturally. her hair falls straight as if it’s been flat ironed.

eyes : big, round, and doe eyed, a dark brown in color. quite the weapon to use when she’s in trouble or when she needs to talk her way out of something ( to proclaim innocence ).

height : five feet , seven inches.

build : lithe. as a former volleyball player, she has kept her shape up with rigorous conditioning ( mainly because if she’s to admit it, if she doesn’t she kind of gets lost in the walls ).

tattoos : none .

piercings : only earlobes .

scars : multiple from surgeries at sixteen.

clothing style : preppy, thanks to her settlement money and her own personal taste. never a hair out of place due to her perfectionistic personality and nature, though if you catch her on any given night, you’ll see her true colors shine through with old ( very old ) sweatpants and a hoodie that has someone else’s name written on the tag in hangul.

usual expression : sour, bitter – life has handed her a poor hand and she’ll make it everyone’s problem. she has one usual expression and it’s resting mean face; not the kind of person to wear her heart on her sleeve, she looks the exact same when she looks happy as she does sad, though – she’s great at acting and lying and you’ve never lived until you’ve watched her go from :| to :) in two seconds.

distinguishing characteristics : doe eyes that scream tragedy – reflecting the stars in the night sky if caught just right, the tilt of her lips when she clearly wants something to work in her favor.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𝐫𝐮𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬

❪ almost directly copied from my google doc i’m sorry ❫

mbti: istj-a, the logistician / most who know her would assume her to be extroverted. not the most reserved in a room and always quick to speak up when she deems it necessary. but, like most logisticians – she’s always had a sharp, fact-based mind. she has always been self sufficient and hates relying on others, often seeing it as a weakness. she is sharp, dedicated and ambitious enough to accomplish whatever she wants to accomplish.

enneagram: 6w5, the guardian / like most of this type, her biggest fear is losing her guidance and stability, which translates into her skepticism of the world. therefore, it often leads to eunjung protecting those she is loyal to, but most importantly: herself. she will often think logically and analytically, solving problems practically and efficiently but she will often be selfish and can come off as cold as a result for her actions.

moral alignment: chaotic evil / eunjung has never been the most – angelic person, though she likes to pretend she is. at the end of the day, after everything she has been through, she has grown to be selfish – prioritizing her own personal gain and pleasure above all good and evil, right and wrong. it could be argued that she belongs in chaotic neutral, but she has no care for law and order, nor a real feeling of her morality anymore.

hogwarts house: slytherin / another reminder of her selfishness and how much she cares about her own well being. all her life as well, she has been told that she is shrewd and too ambitious for her own good which has only given her an incessant drive to prove them all wrong. when it comes down to it, like most slytherins, she will try to view every possible outcome until she finds the outcome that will benefit her the most.

comparable characters: juliet capulet ( romeo & juliet ), jennifer check ( jennifer’s body ), rosalie hale ( twilight ), blair waldorf ( gossip girl ), sansa stark ( game of thrones ).

the rundown: as smart as she is selfish, life has just twisted her to be a bit cold. she isn’t cruel by any means, nor does she necessarily wish hurt and evil upon those around her, but eunjung’s huge main character complex often leads to her priorities being: 1. eunjung 2. yun eunjung 3. eunjung yun. her biggest trait will always be selfishness, followed closely by her rash belief that she is the best in the room at all times.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐥𝐞

trigger warnings: alcoholism + death

this is a rundown on the biography / death / back room / glass person in the google doc, also better written / explained because it’s not prosey <3

hajun is not a good father, he never has been. from a very young age, all eunjung has heard from him are his drunken spirals about how great they used to be. his surname was once held in a high regard, the name of an empress and he has always dwindled about to the three yun children that because of the greatness he has passed onto them, they must be great too.

eunjung has only ever viewed his spiels as hypocritical though. she has only ever known her dad as a mean drunk who lives in the dirtiest, most run down house in town with his poor three kids. her twin brother, eunsang, her younger brother, sangjung, and her spend their childhoods taking care of each other because nobody else will. their mother does something, they never know what because she only arrives with enough money for groceries and bills and then she leaves.

it’s that way for most of her childhood and most of her life. it’s a continuous cycle of eunjung + eunsang taking care of sangjung ( who starts going my samuel when he’s ten and the twins are twelve. the twins have english names, too, but eunjung has too much pride – like her father – and eunsang is the eldest and will do whatever his twin does out of love ) and eunjung is just – quite the difficult child. she speaks her mind and all of her opinions, as well as letting the festering anger within her too grow because she doesn’t know what else to do with it.

death tw. anyway, by sixteen, she’s just this bitter girl that the boys hook up with because she’s the poor girl from the dirty house on the rundown street. she’s got a reputation as a shrew around town, but she’s fine with being a shrew if she still gets her way. samuel is much more popular than either of the twins ( who are epitome of bad boy / bad girl from the wrong side of the tracks ) and is invited to a party at fourteen. it’s tradition to party in this abandoned mansion out in the woods and basically, an accident happens and samuel is pushed from the second story balcony into the foyer and d-words.

he’d called eunjung before dying though, asking for a ride so the twins had went to go get him but instead found him dead. while trying to figure out what had happened, she spots some kid that doesn’t like her still lingering around so she tries to chase him and he.... like.... pushes her off too and she d-words. end tw.

her back room is just this little room and she still to this day doesn’t know how much time she spent in there because it was just so confusing, all she remembers is that she ( or someone ) was trying to convince herself that she was home and that everything was fine. but, she’s a bitch and was like “uh, actually, i’ve never had a home <3″ and broke out of whatever spell.

her glass person is just her. identical, but trapped in the walls underneath the ugly yellow wallpaper in the room she was in. same as her, just more lifeless and it is really the only thing that still scares her – and it tried to escape the walls, but it couldn’t. the lasting effect is that if she’s alone in a room for more than an hour she swears the walls start stretching like someone’s behind it and just always feeling like she’s being watched. she also doesn’t like looking at her own reflection that much anymore because it just reminds her of her glass person.

anyway, she survives miraculously and after testifying and blah blah blah ( i did research on settlements and i still didn’t understand so ), the family of the kid who pushed her off – and probably samuel – gives the yun family a huge sum of money for their troubles and calls it a settlement. it comes with the condition that eunjung doesn’t sue or bring them up ever again and she’s like fine that’s cool, whatever, i’m rich now.

but her parents still aren’t happy and before samuel’s funeral, eunsang runs away from home, leaving them with only the daughter that neither of them really wanted. she still pushes forward though and ends school as valedictorian, prom queen, etc. and heads to fortuna because she really doesn’t think she can go anywhere and also her counselors are ass <3

she’s studying international relations + print journalism, her hopes are diplomacy or something, but she just chose the majors that she tested highest on on that career test i can’t choose. yeah.

please plot w me i have my wc linked up there or at /w. i love u all i’m sorry this was long.

#coreintro

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phoebehalliwell · 3 years

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AU Chris is Paige and Richard’s son. What would his power be? What about Chris’ relationships with his parents?

chris being paige and richard’s son would like totally explain why he’s Like That actually that would be a great au so once again i’m gonna bring up my conspiracy theory that richard was dosed with the blood of some greater being as a baby by his parents in the hopes of making some superwitch but as we all know from dr curtis williamson of astral monkey fame receiving the blood of someone more powerful than u can create some disastrous consequences, which i believe is exactly what we see with richard and his fucked up relationship to magic given richards advanced powers (namely conjuration) and also the fact that the montana family probably didn't want it to be obvious that they y'know experimented on their kid imma say richard was somehow infused with avatar blood, seeing as they were basically unknown beings until s7, so no one would really be able to id his powers. i also think that explains how we saw richard get so insanely powerful towards the end like in i dream of phoebe he was even able to manifest a teleportation power through conjuration bc as we learned, avatars draw their power from a collective, so i’m positing that having a relationship with paige especially like y'know it's physical there's an intense emotional element that we see she even lives with him so like. it's a Relationship™. yeah that whole relationship only added to his own powers as paige sorta became his collective (i don't think this takes away from paige's powers at all more like if you shine a flashlight into a mirror it bounces back that light it's not taking away any light from the flashlight it's simply using what it was given to create more if that makes sense like in the abstract we don’t need to talk the physics of how light is reflected think of this in vague terms) so uh yeah that’s what’s up i think if richard did not have avatar blood he would just be a normal telekinetic which is a power we see him display at various points at just sort of a normal level couple that with the fact that paige is also a telekinetic and i think it is very safe to say that their child would have telekinesis i think telekinesis is the brown eyes of the magical world the dominant gene in the punnett square or whatever 7th grade was a long time ago i also think they are bound to some sort of teleportation power as both paige and richard can teleport i’d love to see it me some hybrid between fading and orbing as they are the first witchlightvatar i feel like they should have something wholly unique to show for it for another active power projection is an option as it is very close to conjuration while simultaneously being a power in the warren line but i wouldn’t want to give chris the same power as wyatt tho seeing as chris is a family name from leo’s side it wouldn’t quite make sense whenever i write about a paige/richard child i always call them bennie named after richard’s father which i think still works as chris is also named after his paternal grandfather but yeah the point i was making is having bennie travel through time and like exist in like this juxtaposition with wyatt idk i feel like it’s not as fun if they have the same power set so maybe i’ll take richards conjuring and modify it to match paige’s past life and say conjuring the elements? the entire montana family line seems to have energy balls as a power so like . that could add to that theory maybe. like the evil enchantress could conjuring lightning i think the avatars also had lightning powers but i think that was purely a leo addition and an elder power and paige has no ties to an elder status so. idk. i sorta like the conjuring the elements power i do think richard is the firstborn of his generation and paige is technically sam’s firstborn so i think they both get Legacy Points there and then bennie would go on to be the first born in the montana line so i think that could justify very op power like conjuring the elements i think that they would inherit some of richard’s mania to some degree i mean as we know there is a genetic component to addiction and both paige and richard have suffered from it but i think since the foreign blood is a) diluted and b) in a host with a greater power capacity (as we know, witches get stronger with every generation and adding a charmed one into the mix is definitely an added boost) i don’t think those genes would manifest themselves in the way they did with like richards obsession with magic however i think substance abuse and also probably and anxiety disorder are very much on the table if we’re talking bennie replaces chris as the one to come from the dark future quite frankly this kid’s gonna be more that a little fucked up bc lord knows nothing stable ever happened there i also think they wouldn’t be nearly as good of a liar as chris as i think they’re gonna have ten times more impulsivity i also think they wouldn’t tip toe around the truth so much like i know chris is really anxious about like negatively impacting the future i do not think bennie would give nearly as much of a shit like the future already sucks that’s why i’m here so Sit Down bc i have some Very Bad News for y’all i think like within the first ten episodes of season six bennie would have already made it very obvious that wyatt goes full dark no stars due to something that’s about to happen i do think they would wanna keep it under wraps about their specific lineage bc like they’re here to change a whole lot of things but i think they’d still like to exist at the end of the day but i do think that phoebe would find out and the news would spread i think in the light future without an evil wyatt bennie would not end up remotely as fucked up as they also probz wouldn’t be an orphan which i imagine is really likely in their dark future i think richard would strip his magic and live as a mortal but still teach bennie what he knows about magic and potion making bc like. he’s well verse. there are also a lot of montana traditions and secret recipes i think he would want to pass down but like not for one second i think richard would regret stripping his powers i think he would be making a potion with his kid and just be like yeah i’m so glad i’m not actually magical anymore this is just like making weird soup i’m not getting weird vibes and strange jolts of magic and funny voice in my head there’s no pressure to get it right if it’ll work or not i’m just here throwing ingredients in a cauldron w my kid : ) i also think richard would get like hella into tai chi or something very focused on medicine and alternative healing styles oh richard like paige was definitely also a pothead in high school but the point is bennie would be like very well versed in meditation and what’s it called not aromatherapy but like. apothecary? herbaltherapy? plantohealing? you know that thing people are into like teas and herbs that fuckin uhh help with colds and stuff basically like the non magical properties of the world in fact i think they’d be the most knowledgeable out of anyone from gen2 on like nonmagical uses for things like there are mortal ways to solve problems that can work just fine and i think yeah bennie does know richard’s past and the issues with magic i think that that’s something that personally scares them not enough to like not practice but like enough that they don’t ever like use magic for unnecessary purposes like they will Not be telekinetically closing the manor door shut at the end of the season they will be closing the door like a normal person that type of thing. in regards to a relationship with paige i think in the trying to fix the future part of this au bennie would get really close to paige bc like again paige probably was murdered in the dark future but i don’t think bennie would be like chris like she’s just gonna die so why get close i think bennie would really utilized the time that they do have to just like. be with their mom. i think paige would definitely be freaked to like be a mom bc she’s like woah i’m not that old and like have a 22 year old call you mom like definitely ages you but like i do think paige would see a lot of herself in her kid especially as this version of bennie like grew up really without parents and like this that and the other they’d also really remind paige of the kids she saw at social services and i do think paige would be very like mom-y around her kid like i would not describe paige as a motherly woman i would never call her the mom friend but like around bennie she like goes full mom like cuts crusts off sandwiches and everything mode (piper and phoebe find it fucking hilarious)

#really love the idea of a paige richard kid #which i have talked about before on this blog #i also like really like richard he was done so dirty #but like he could have been something man #whatever underrated character #charmed #paige matthews #richard montana #paige x richard #bennie montana #💌#au

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shielddrake · 4 years

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Psychonauts: Setup and Payoff Done Well (If Not Perfectly)

So about a year ago I posted a long lecture about how Final Fantasy XV and Kingdom Hearts 3 had major problems in the story department when it came to setup and payoff. I basically said that Final Fantasy XV had lots of scenes with payoff that were not set up very well and Kingdom Hearts 3 had some excellent moments that set up story elements but never followed through on them. And while I think some of those issues have been addressed with some of the DLC released for both games (I reserve my right to be a little salty Episodes Aranea, Luna, and Noctis were canceled) I still stand by my statement that these games have big problems with this.

During the past year, I have received a couple of comments regarding my position on this, ranging from “Can you give a good example of setup and payoff?” to “Well, if you’re so smart, why don’t you come up with a better example?” And I thought, well, what kind of game would be a good example of excellent use of setup and payoff? What game or series would I say does the job so much better than any writer has or does, video game or otherwise?

And then, the middle of a repeat playthrough I always do before a game’s sequel comes out, it came to me:

Now Psychonauts has been out since 2005, so a spoiler warning might seem a little silly here, but I think a lot of gamers have been playing it for the first time since the sequel was announced, so just in case: Major spoilers for the original Psychonauts game under the cut.

Whenever someone tries to argue whether or not video games can be considered art, one of the first games that comes to my mind is Psychonauts, and not just because of its amazing aesthetics. It has some of the best storytelling, script writing, level design, music, voice acting, and art direction I have ever seen. This game is possibly one of the best video games I have every played, despite the flaws that it does have (I’m looking at you, Meat Circus), and it is easily on my list of top ten favorite video games. Is it really any surprise that Psychonauts 2 reached its crowd-funding goal of over $3,000,000 in about a month? And yes, I admit that I am one of those backers, just to put out there any bias I know I have.

But this isn’t meant to be a review of Psychonauts.

I replayed Psychonauts a few months ago with the idea of the first game being fresh in my mind when the sequel comes out, which is supposed to be sometime this year of 2020. I was absolutely inundated with examples of effective setup and payoff as I played, so it seemed like the obvious choice to go over how this story-telling technique can be used not only well, but also to the point where it’s almost like there are far too many examples.

Honestly, I could go on and on and on about setup and payoff in Psychonauts’ story, but for our purposes here most of the focus is going to be on just three big things that are really important to the main storyline: Linda the Lungfish, bunnies and meat, and Raz’s dad.

One thing about setup and payoff is that the setup has to actually happen in a way that the audience, in this case the player, can’t miss it. There are several moments in the game that Linda is mentioned, the first time being in the opening cutscene, where Bobby teases Dogen about the monster at the bottom of the lake. You can’t miss the setup when it is thrown in your face that way.

But that’s not the only time we get references to some sort of lake monster. Before going into Basic Braining, the first official level of the game, if Raz talks to Mikhail, the adorable Russian psychic mentions a “giant, hairless bear” in the woods, asking if Raz has seen it and wanting to wrestle with it. Now, it’s not said for certain if Mikhail is talking about Linda or if he’s just referring to the telekinetic bears you meet later on, but it wouldn’t surprise me at all if it’s supposed to be the former.

The first time the player heads for the lake, Elton will run up to Raz and mention the “brain-eating fish” that supposedly lives there. Well, now we’ve got both a mention of the lake monster and the fact that it goes after brains. Hmm, sound familiar in retrospect?

Optionally, Raz can also talk to Elton about the fish being spooked by something in the lake.

Although only the first lake interaction with Elton is mandatory (whether it’s when you go to see Milla or before then), both of these moments act as reminders of the setup of the lake monster established in the opening cutscene.

And then there’s the scene in the woods between Raz and Lili on the way to Sasha Nein’s Secret Lab. Raz says that something was watching him, a shadowy being that smelled like pond scum.

I absolutely love Lili’s face in this scene, by the way.

We kind of get distracted by their interactions and Lili basically trolling Raz, but that’s part of what makes good writing. The scene is foreshadowing something without making it overly overt…not that the game is subtle every time, but the point still stands. This game does a great mix of the obvious and the subtle.

The game also has optional dialogue with Coach Oleander and Raz reporting on a UPE (Unidentified Paranormal Entity), which he suspects is aquatic in nature. And Oleander seems oddly insistent that the lake monster does not exist, that it’s just a camp fable.

Finally we get to the Brain Tumbler Experiment. Needless to say, it’s in this level that a lot of the elements come together. We come across a demon in the form of a big, shadowy figure that spits out a diving helmet. Again, does that sound familiar at all?

There is a minor mention of the lake monster in the mental vault below the spooky thorn tower (more on that near the end of this post), but other than that there’s a break in the game where the lake monster isn’t mentioned for a while. We don’t get another explicit scene about it until Raz and Lili meet Linda properly at the edge of Lake Oblongata…where Lili gets kidnapped, we go through the boss sequence under the lake, and enter Linda’s brain of Lungfishopolis. And the final payoff occurs with the Hideous Hulking Lungfish transporting us to Thorney Towers and giving Raz her real name, Linda.

Now would any of that be nearly as rewarding if we had never heard of the Hideous Hulking Lungfish of Lake Oblongata prior to her official appearance? Every single player would just have visible question marks hanging over their heads if Linda just showed up out of nowhere. Deus Ex Lungfish, anyone? But that’s not what the developers did. They spent plenty of time building up to Linda, making her reveal not only make sense but also weaving her into the story so that her reveal is more than satisfying.

There is just one thing I’ve always been curious about, a sort of chicken-and-egg scenario. Did the legend of the lake monster start because genetically-altered Linda showed up and starting attacking campers? Or did the legend already exist and Oleander used it as an excuse to write off any “sightings” of the monster? Any ideas?

Moving on from Linda, we come to the imagery of meat and bunnies.

Without knowing the full ending of the game, most players would think that it’s a bit strange I would stick meat and bunnies together in the same category. Sadly, the connection between these things is a bit on the morose side, and they are actually first introduced at the same time as well.

When I first played Psychonauts, the first time I actively thought about bunnies and meat being related somehow was during the Brain Tumbler Experiment, but that’s actually not the first time the game introduces these. Anyone else notice that Basic Braining has figments of meat cleavers, butcher knives, a pig, a duck, and a fox? I could logic that a meat cleaver and butcher knife fit with the whole army theme, but a pig, duck and fox?

Kind of odd animals would be included in all this, especially animals that are either butchered or hunted. At least that’s what I thought at first.

It is in Oleander’s mind that we first see the “meaty plant” that Lili saves from being squashed by Raz. It’s also here that we see bunnies hopping around the snowfield with the Gatling gun. This early in the game, is this important or just set dressing? I’m ashamed to admit, but I thought it was just weird set dressing when I first played, but it makes more sense as the story goes on.

Turns out it’s important all right, since the next time we see both meat and bunnies is in the Brain Tumbler Experiment. “Mr. Bun” seems like a rather random animal to have in Raz’s brain, but then again bunnies showed up in Basic Braining as well. Is there a connection somehow? Sasha tells Raz that an animal may represent a primal fear or memory.

He’s right on the latter, although a player going through the game for the first time might not know why (and I admit, on my first playthrough, I didn’t). And there’s more meat and meaty plants here. Raz doesn’t directly mention these (at least he didn’t during my most recent playthrough, to my recollection) but they are pretty obvious, to say the least.

So that’s two things connecting the Brain Tumbler Experiment and Basic Braining. Is this a normal occurrence? Maybe these things just show up in brains? Lili does mention she had been dreaming of meat plants, after all, both in Basic Braining and in the cutscene before Raz enters Milla’s mind. Maybe it’s a primal need for meat? Don’t tell the vegans I said that. The Vegan Police would be very unhappy with the final level of this game.

After the Brain Tumbler Experiment is finished, we know that the brain interference was coming from Oleander, but it’s not explained why there are meat and bunny references up until that point. There’s actually no mention of either at all in the subsequent levels until the last. Lungfishopolis, The Milkman Conspiracy, Gloria’s Theater, Waterloo World, and Black Velvetopia are devoid of all meat or bunnies, which possibly leads the player to forget about the whole thing for a while (and when I say “the player,” I really mean me).

In fact, we don’t see any sign of either until the final level of the game, Meat Circus. And, oh boy, Meat Circus.

Yeah, it should come as no surprise that I hate this level. I hated it so much that on my first playthrough of this game in 2005, I rage quit and didn’t look at Psychonauts for several days. I eventually went back to it and beat it, but let’s say I was more than a little relieved that they lowered the difficulty for it in subsequent releases.

But I digress.

We reach Meat Circus, the combined consciousness of Raz and Little Oly, and the payoff of all the meat and bunny stuff we’ve seen thus far. We have Frankenstein-esque meat bunnies, platforms made of steaks, rail grinding on bones, trapeze and trampolines of bones and skin, and of course the dark versions of both Raz’s and Oleander’s fathers, who not only are evil but also become a giant two-headed monster. When Sasha said that problems seem larger in your head than in real life, I should have known it would be taken more literally in this game.

I mean, is it really any shock that Oleander is carrying some trauma after seeing his bunny friend be decapitated by his own father? It’s never said how old Little Oly is, but considering his behavior he is clearly younger than Raz, so this happened when he was in the single digits of age. That’s really not something a little kid should see. That’s just asking for PTSD.

Anyway, back to setup and payoff, which is pretty obvious at this point. We have plenty of mentions of both bunnies and meat throughout the game, leading to the final boss that is both creepy and downright terrifying. Not only does this boss conclude Oleander’s trauma with his father being a butcher and killing his favorite bunny, but it also allows Raz to defeat his inaccurate mental image of his own father. Both of them are able to move forward from that point on. Defeating this monstrosity acts as the ultimate payoff and conclusion for both Raz and Oleander.

Speaking of Raz’s dad…

Raz’s relationship with his father at the start of the game is strained, to say the least. When Raz goes to learn Levitation from Milla, the very mention of his father showing up to take him home from the camp makes him nervous. Not the best sign here, and his other comments regarding his dad don’t make it much better.

Once Raz reaches cadet ranks ten and twenty, we get cutscenes of Raz talking with Cruller in tutorials for Pyrokinesis and Telekinesis. During Pyrokinesis, Raz first mentions that his father, Augustus, hates psychics and trained Raz in acrobatics to the point where Raz worried his dad was trying to kill him. During Telekinesis, Raz reveals his suspicions that his father is psychic as well. The memory vault we see of Raz running away from home only reinforces Raz’s perspective.

We’re led to believe that Raz’s statements are the truth, which is a logical conclusion since he’s the game’s protagonist, but the end of the game shows otherwise. At first I thought this meant Raz was simply an unreliable narrator, but that turns out to not be the whole story. While Raz is an unreliable narrator in that there are a lot of things he just doesn’t know, it’s not malicious in any way. Raz simply doesn’t know that he father really does care about him. That’s the magic of using the third-person limited point of view.

Up to this point, we’re led to believe that Augustus is a neglectful father at best, but it turns out that Augustus does love his son. He’s just apparently really bad at showing it. The very fact that he is the only one able to break into Raz’s “hard to penetrate skull” shows that there is a deeper relationship between them. And Augustus is clearly distraught that his own son sees him as a monster in his mind. Poor Augustus.

I think that a lot of the interactions between father and son in this game was cut out due to both budget and time constraints, because I feel like there is more to be said with these two than what we get in the final product. (I’m thinking we’re going to get more of that in the sequel, but that is up in the air at this time.) This doesn’t bother me too much though, since we do get effective enough setup and payoff that it doesn’t seem like it comes out of nowhere. They do finally talk to each other and express their concerns, mending their relationship…in the middle of a battle with a two-headed father monster.

Clearly these two have communication issues. The morale of this story is that it’s important to talk to one each other.

And this is certainly paid off in the end cutscene of the game. When Sasha says they want Raz to come along to rescue Truman Zanotto, Raz doesn’t just run off with them again. He turns around and gives his father puppy-dog eyes, clearly asking for permission to go this time. And Augustus not only gives it, he gives Raz his blessing and encourages him to “show them all.” Contrast this to the backstory of the game, where Augustus flat out forbids Raz from having anything to do with the Psychonauts and Raz running away in secret.

And if that’s not satisfying use of setup and payoff, I don’t know what is.

That’s not to say that all of the setup and payoff in Psychonauts is perfect. To be fair, there are times when the setup can be missed, and therefore the payoff that comes later can be confusing. The most obvious example of this is the nightmare that attacks you in The Milkman Conspiracy. When I first played the game all those years ago, my first thought was, “What in the world? What is this thing and where did it come from?”

Of course, on subsequent playthroughs, I did find the demon room in Milla’s mind, showing the same nightmares she had caged away. This is the difference between a sane mind and an insane one. Milla has all her demons under control (although notice that they have not gone away) while Boyd’s run amok because he has no way of mentally dealing with them, since his brain is a little bit busy with this, well, milkman conspiracy. The nightmares that attack in Boyd’s brain make more sense after I saw the ones in Milla’s brain. In this case, the payoff wasn’t bad since the nightmare miniboss wasn’t a bad fight, but context in the form of the setup made the payoff better.

Other times the setup can be missed? The other big one is the resolution of all the campers’ storylines. Unless the player spends time going around camp throughout the game and seeing the interactions the other campers have with each other, the little scene you have with each one once they are re-brained won’t make a lot of sense. The love triangle between J.T., Elka and Nils? J.T. and Chops having conflict about J.T. abandoning his best friend for his new girlfriend? Crystal and Clem attempting suicide to become more powerful? Chloe thinking she’s an alien? Maloof basically becoming a mob leader with Mikhail as his right-hand man? Elton and Milka’s blossoming love? …Just to name a few? Yeah, the context of all that is missed if the player doesn’t bother to talk to the other campers throughout the game, but I attribute that more to the player than the game. The developers accounted for this in the story, so it’s more the player didn’t look for the setup rather than Double Fine just not bothering to include it.

That’s just some examples of setup and payoff that I feel are probably the most important to the main storyline of Psychonauts. They are far from the only examples. Really far from it. Oh boy, could I go on about the scenarios of setup and payoff that happen in this game.

Dogen talking to the squirrels, who tell him that the short man is going to kill everyone, only for them to really be talking about Oleander?

Elton saying that Oleander’s recruiting office in Basic Braining resembles a dentist office, only to find out that one of the main antagonists, Dr. Loboto, is in fact a dentist?

Oleander having a mental vault trapped behind some mental cobwebs? Well, he has something to hide, despite him saying he doesn’t when you first play through Basic Braining. Of course, getting angry at Raz for snooping around a room with a curtain doesn’t give off the idea that Oleander has something to hide. Nope. Not suspicious at all.

Agent Crueller having all the different personalities around the camp, hinting as his unstable mental state?

The Hand of Galochio appearing in the lake as a reference to Raz’s family having a curse to die in water, and said curse just so happens to show up not only as a gameplay element but as a story element during Meat Circus?

Raz being able to read Lili’s thoughts when she doesn’t mean for him to, then for him to do it two more times near the end of the game?

How Lili’s cold stops her from sneezing out her own brain?

Sasha’s hatred of tacky lamps having to do with his past working in a tacky lamp factory? Or the shoeboxes indicating his father was a cobbler? Or the bed as the location of where his mother was horribly ill and died?

Raz needing to climb the “creepy thorn tower” in the Brain Tumbler Experiment, only to later need to climb Thorney Towers Home for the Disturbed?

The mention of the town of Shaky Claim on the giant tree stump at the camp entrance referring to the sunken town that is (somewhat) explored during the boss sequence under the lake?

Raz talking about being back in high school in Black Velvetopia despite being ten years old? Not to mention the stories the dogs tell about Lana/Lampita and Dean/Dingo?

Lastly, do I really need to mention the incredibly weird and seemingly out of place mental vault below the creepy thorn tower? A brain chicken hatches out of an egg, meets a fish in water, goes to a circus, gets placed in a teacup, and blasts people to death? Kind of a summation of Raz coming out of the egg in the Brain Tumbler Experiment, meeting Linda at Lake Oblongata, entering the Meat Circus, and getting placed in a brain tank and defeating two people? Was the mental vault a foreshadowing of the main plot of Psychonauts? I don’t know. What do you think?

*Takes a deep breath.* See what I mean when I say I could really go on and on about setup and payoff in Psychonauts? There are so many examples that it’s kind of ridiculous. It could be said that there’s too much of this kind of storytelling in the game, but I fail to see how that is a problem. There is such a thing as too much of a good thing, but when it comes to setup and payoff, Psychonauts is not it.

Credits

Screenshots courtesy of the following:

Comic Foil, https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCN-Y6XDe0oWyhgjcGunJqGw

Global Gaming, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0pjsxNSwSSA

StoryGamer, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZXZ1vDFp_dw&t=139s

ThatNotSoAznKid, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ford0MGvWIc

#psychonauts #psychonauts spoilers #setup and payoff #writing in video games

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langandlitanxiety · 4 years

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Zofia Ossowska & Pola Żuk

The theme of sexuality in William Shakespeare’s “Othello”

Introduction

Over the course of Shakespeare’s artwork progress and evolution, his readers can observe his significantly increasing interest in the psychology of sex. Othello is his most widely exploring this topic piece, as the author investigates many varieties of sexuality concerning not only people of the same race and class, but also the ones having different ethnic origins and social statuses. General controversy spread around a black man being the eponymous character inspired Shakespeare to also present stereotypes of interracial sex that affect both family’s of the white, pure girl and the couple itself. Such stereotypes are mostly introduced by the main villain, Iago, who is most frequently using animal imagery to describe them as well as Othello’s and Desdemona’s intimate moments. His language only adds spiciness to the scenes concerning the characters he is speaking about and tension in the reader, as such imagery really evokes one’s imagination and in this case, often disgust.

Imagery used to refer to Othello and his intimate life with Desdemona (and the reaction of Desdemona’s father)

The first scene in which Iago comments on Othello’s and Desdemona’s sex life is when he wants to cause chaos and conflict between Brabantio, Desdemona’s father, and the couple. In order to do that, he puts an image of the dirty, old man shamingly interacting with his pure, young daughter and highlights the possibility of Desdemona getting pregnant with the child of the devil (such metaphor derives from Othello’s dark skin color).

“Zounds, sir, you’re robbed, for shame put on your gown!

Your heart is burst, you have lost half your soul,

Even now, now, very now, an old black ram

Is tupping your white ewe! Arise, arise,

Awake the snorting citizens with the bell

Or else the devil will make a grandsire of you, Arise I say!” (1.1.84-91)

Iago suggests that the fact of Desdemona’s sexual interaction with the Moor is shameful not only towards her herself, but specifically towards his father, who must have not raised her in the right way. He also pays attention to the difference of age between the two - Desdemona seems to be much younger than her lover, which is also not something to be proud of. As Desdemona represents a woman from the upper class, she should also choose someone at least equal to her rank for her husband not to disrespect hers and her family’s position. During the fight between Iago, Roderigo and Brabantio (though Iago speaks to Brabantio as Roderigo), the father of Desdemona accuses the men of being thieves. While responding to this accusation, Iago still tries (and succeeds) to play with Brabantio’s imagination by saying

“ [...] Because we come to

do you service, and you think we are ruffians, you’ll

have your daughter covered with a Barbary horse;

you’ll have your nephews neigh to you, you’ll have

courses for cousins and jennets for germans!” (1.1.109-112)

and

“I am one, sir, that comes to tell you your daughter and the Moor are now making the beast with two backs.” (1.1.114-115)

Saying all that, Iago successfully upsets Brabantio by bringing his attention to the marriage of his beloveddaughter with the Moor in a very unpleasant way.

Desdemona’s and Othello’s sex life; the symbol of their bridal bed

Another thing concerning the topic of sex that is worth noticing is the amount of trails Othello and Desdemona had to get intimate. Firstly, they had to call off their wedding-night in Venice as Othello was ordered to go to Cyprus:

“ Senator

You must away tonight.

Desdemona

Tonight, my lord?

Duke

This night.

Othello

With all my heart.” (1.3.275-279)

Secondly, due to the brawl between Cassio and Roderigo resulting from Iago’s manipulation, they were interrupted again, only in Cyprus. Othello was mad not only because of the fact of their fight, but also because his alone time with his lover was interrupted.

“Look if my gentle love be not raised up! I’ll make thee an example.” (2.3.246-247)

Such interruptions build the tension between Othello and Desdemona and only add to Othello’s madness developing after he believes that his wife is indeed cheating on him, as he cannot seem to get ahold of her, while he thinks that Cassio does.

Another thing worth mentioning is the bed, which Iago brings a couple of times during the play. It not only reminds the reader or viewer about the off-stage bridal bed, but is also a some kind of a connection between the final scene, during which Desdemona is killed by her beloved husband.

“Well: happiness to their sheets” (2.3.26)

This quotation is especially ironic, as right before her death Desdemona asked Emilia to change the sheets into their wedding ones as a sign of preparing for the big night with her love. This means that these mentioned by Iago bridal bed and sheets may signalize to the reader further course of the plot and highlight the huge juxtaposition: the bed and the sheets that were supposed to bring the couple happiness evolved into a symbol of their tragedy. In fact, the bridal bed is the place on which almost every dead body in this play lands in the end, what portrays the extreme changes that took place in a very short notice.

“I do not know, friends all, but now, even now,

In quarter and in terms like bride and groom

Divesting them for bed [...]” (2.3.175-177)

Is Iago gay?

There have been many discussions about Iago’s sexuality - some say that Iago is in fact homosexual and he wants to destroy Othello and his relationship with Desdemona out of jealousy caused by his unfulfilled love. However, such interpretation of Iago’s character is often made because people feel the need to justify such horrible actions as those presented by Iago. The truth is that this villain is an embodiment of evil, a character taking pleasure from causing chaos, trouble, and pain, as he not once shows any sign of regret, empathy, repentance or change. Humans always seem to seek for motive and need one - in case of Iago, he does not need motive, or more specifically, he’s only motive is to cause harm and enjoy its consequences. Therefore, the theory of Iago’s homosexuality is an overinterpretation that should not be taken under consideration while analyzing Shakespeare’s play.

The theme of womanhood in context of sexuality

The three women characters that are included in the play are supposed to represent women of different class and social status.

Desdemona is representing the highest social status and poses as a female role model, being referred to as a virtuous and loyal wife by several characters during the first few scenes of the play. She’s obedient and kind; even though Brabantio directly expresses his disappointment regarding Desdemona’s choice of husband, she remains respectful and thoughtful enough to not try to bother his father:

“Nor I; I would not there reside,

To put my father in impatient thoughts

By being in his eye.

Most gracious Duke,

To my unfolding lend your prosperous ear

And let me find a charter in your voice,

T' assist my simpleness.” (2.3.239-244)

Desdemona throws away her life in order to be with Othello and until the very end of her life, she remains obedient and in love.

Bianca is Desdemona’s polar opposite. She is Cassio’s lover and a mistress, thus being strongly linked with the theme of sexuality that appears throughout the play.

Despite her profession, Bianca seems to be very emotional about Cassio’s affection, frustrated at the way he disregards their relationship. Her jealousy of Cassio mirrors Othello’s jealousy of Desdemona. The character of a courtesan seems to serve as a way to emphasize Desdemona’s desirable traits of faithfulness and loyalty, and yet Othello is still incapable of telling the difference between the two types of women that Desdemona and Bianca represent.

A lot about how Bianca is presented and perceived by the male characters of the play can be seen in the way she is addressed or described by Cassio:

“Go to, woman!

Throw your vile guesses in the devil's teeth,

From whence you have them.

You are jealous now

That this is from some mistress, some remembrance:

No, in good troth, Bianca.” (3.4.179-183)

“I marry her! what? a customer! Prithee, bear some charity to my wit: do not think it so unwholesome. Ha, ha, ha!” (4.1.120-123)

Iago addresses Cassio’s problematic approach towards his lover as well:

“Now will I question Cassio of Bianca,

A housewife that by selling her desires

Buys herself bread and clothes: it is a creature

That dotes on Cassio; as 'tis the strumpet's plague

To beguile many and be beguiled by one:

He, when he hears of her, cannot refrain

From the excess of laughter.”

What is also very interesting is that not only does Cassio speak of Bianca in a pitiful and disrespectful manner, but he also seems deeply fascinated by Desdemona’s presence.

“Iago

Not this hour, lieutenant; 'tis not yet ten o' the clock. Our general cast us thus early for the love of his Desdemona; who let us not therefore blame: he hath not yet made wanton the night with her; and she is sport for Jove.

Cassio

She's a most exquisite lady.

Iago

And, I'll warrant her, fun of game.

Cassio

Indeed, she's a most fresh and delicate creature.” (2.3.13-20)

“An inviting eye; and yet methinks right modest.” (2.3.23)

Referring to Desdemona in such a way and constantly emphasizing how perfect and exquisite she is, Cassio creates even a more vivid contrast between her and Bianca. It is worth noticing that while it is most often the women who are accused of disloyalty, it is the male characters, including Cassio, who continuously make suggestive remarks towards or about the three women.

The third female character is Emilia, who seems to connect numerous traits of both Desdemona and Bianca. She’s a working-class woman and Iago’s husband. She’s obedient and loyal towards her loved one, but at the same time stresses that any woman would cheat on her husband given the right circumstances.

It is interesting that all three of the female characters are accused of infidelity at some point of the play. The entire theme of womanhood is essentially defined by and built upon the virtues and sexuality of the male characters. Each of the female characters represents a woman of different class and status, however,

it is strongly suggested that all of these three women are fulfilling different kinds of men’s fantasies. Iago seems to be the only one to see that since the very beginning, as he is the one to tell Othello how hard it is to distinguish between a truly virtuous woman and one who plays the role she is expected to in a convincing way. The reliance of the representation womanhood on male characters’ vices and virtues directly relates to the important theme of gender that Shakespeare’s Othello touches upon.

Conclusion

The theme of sexuality and deriving from that topic of womanhood is strongly paid attention to in Shakespeare’s Othello. It is brought up in many situations in both literal and metaphorical ways. It is important that the author touches upon such a topic, as it is a big part of one's psyche and relationships, especially romantic ones. As the whole plot revolves around Desdemona’s alleged sexual betrayal of Othello, it is specifically crucial to focus more on the psychology of sex, which Shakespeare did very well.

#portfoliotask #othello

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dwindledglow · 4 years

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001. MEET JORDAN

FULL NAME: jordan kade thompson. PREFERRED NAME: jordan. NICKNAME/S: jord and jordie. DATE OF BIRTH: december 17th, 1993. GENDER & PRONOUNS: cis male & he/his. ORIENTATION: hetero. RELIGION: atheist. RELATIONSHIP STATUS: married to alice thompson. OCCUPATION: music producer, songwriter and entrepreneur. RESIDENCE: in between soho, new york city and sag harbor, suffolk county.

002. CHECK JORDAN’S BACKGROUND

HOMETOWN: tallahassee, florida. NATIONALITY: american. ETHNIC BACKGROUND: afro-american. LINGUISTICS: english which is his native language and spanish and french in a fluent level. EDUCATION: he has graduated from high-school and attended cuny's john jay college of criminal justice where he did two years of criminology and criminal justice before having to drop out due to financial difficulties. CRIMINAL RECORD: clean. BIRTH ORDER: third. FATHER: tyler dajan brown, born on april 30th, 1965 in baltimore, maryland. his whereabouts, as well as living situation, are unknown to jordan but last he heard, he worked as a record store clerk in atlantic city, new jersey. MOTHER: nora jada thompson, born on august 4th, 1968 in st. petersburg, florida, currently residing in sagaponack, suffolk county. she is the owner of four restaurants - wabi-sabi, a japanese cuisine place in soho, new york city, 1946 house, a contemporary french-american cuisine place in miami beach, florida, magari, an italian cuisine place in dumbo, brooklyn and scusi, an italian cuisine restaurant in miami, florida. SISTER/S: alexandra kalla thompson, born on january 7th, 1999 in philadelphia, pennsylvania, currently residing in new york and working as a model and professional dancer. BROTHER/S: william bakari thompson, born on july 1st, 1987 in tallahassee, florida, currently residing in new york city and working as a personal trainer. carter kaluuya thompson, born on may 21st, 1991 in tallahassee, florida, currently residing in new york city and working as a publicist. SIGNIFICANT OTHER: alice thompson, née cooper. CHILDREN: maya anne thompson, born on october 19th, 2018 in southampton, new york. ivy ayana thompson, born on november 8th, 2019 in southampton, new york. OTHER RELEVANT FAMILY: amani robins thompson, née white, william’s wife thus sister-in-law. monique byers-thompson, carter’s wife thus sister-in-law. jada niaara thompson, carter & monique’s daughter, niece. bryson alexander hill, alexandra’s fiancé thus brother-in-law. apollo kade hill, alexandra & bryson’s son, nephew. EX/ES: isobel powell and jessica loyle. PETS: kovu and kopa, two pomskys and cookie, a pug.

003. GET UP CLOSE & PERSONAL

HEIGHT: 6′3″ or 192 cm. WEIGHT: between 177 lbs or 80 kg and 181 lbs or 82 kg. BODY BUILD: jordan has what's considered the ideal weight for his height. he has a fast metabolism so albeit not upkeeping any kind of strict diet or following a specific eating plan, it's hard for him to put on much weight. up until a few years ago — five or six — and following how he stopped regularly exercising / playing basketball, he had a, somewhat, thin figure but ever since he started working out again, he has managed to get some lean muscle. overall, he has a toned body with defined abs and muscular arms. EYE COLOR: dark, earthy brown. EYESIGHT: his eyesight has no problems. HAIR COLOR & STYLE: when the topic in question regards personal style, it's hard to describe jordan's seeing as it is ever-changing. he has dreads and, most of the time, that's the extent he'll go to with his hairstyle. every so often, he'll get tired of having his hair down and he'll go for pigtails — which is one of his favorites hair styles — or a ponytail. when he wants his hair completely out of his way, he'll section his hair and part it in two cornrows and on the rare, he wears half of his hair up and the other half down. DOMINANT HAND: right. NOTABLE PHYSICAL TRAITS: the most notable physical trait is, without a doubt, the unusual birthmark on his cheek. besides it, and despite not doing it nearly as often ( unless he's around people he loves ), his smile / laugh are another thing that distinguishes him. there's also his towering frame, his ever-changing hair styles and his chiselled features on top of it. SCARS AND MARKS: asides from your every day, average scars here and there, jordan has a two larger and notable ones : the first on the underside of his right arm courtesy of breaking his arm when he was a kid and the second on his left knee, the result of a surgery he had to be submitted to due to an injury he made when he used to play basketball. he has a distinguishing birthmark on his cheek but, other than that, and sans a few moles here and there, jordan has no other relevant marks. TATTOOS: he has the quote on your own and for yourself in morse code tattooed around his right wrist — reference —, a reminder to keep going, no matter what might happen in his life; on his left wrist, he has a W — reference — which is the initial of his older brother's name; he has the outline of new york's skyline, in white ink, tattooed on the inside of his right arm — reference. on the back of his left arm, he has the geographic coordinates to alexandra's — his younger sister — and jada's — his niece — birth places — reference. on his left ankle, he has excelsior tattooed in bold font, new york city's motto. on his ribcage, a little below his left pectoral, he has the sound wave of his mother saying i love you tattooed. there's the word saudara — meaning brother in indonesian and which he got along with his brother carter — on the right side of his ribcage. he has the quote to new memories tattooed on the inside of his left arm — reference — something he got shortly after he moved to bali. he has the word clarity on small, uppercase font on the right side his neck. on the back of his right upper arm, he has two hands — reference. he has the word power on the back of his left hand. there's the quote self consciousness is heavy along his right hip. on his left collarbone, he has the quote dum spiro spero which translates into while i breathe, i hope and on his right collarbone, he has the quote esse quam videri which translates into to be, rather than to seem. he has the quote and still i rise in bold, uppercase and small font on the back of his neck. on the back of his left ankle he has the word tallahassee in uppercase and bold font, representing the city he was born, and on the back of his right ankle, also in bold font, he has 1993, the year he was born in. for his and ally’s daughters, on the inside of his upper right arm, he has maya shaped to form a heart and, likewise, ivy on the inside of his upper left arm. additionally, he has the sentence ten planes in cursive, recalling when alice and him first started dating and he mentioned how he’d fly ten planes for her. PIERCINGS: he has two piercings on his left regular lobe. VOICECLAIM: daniel caesar. ACCENT & INTENSITY: jordan's accent is somewhat of a hybrid thing — it's not a strong and prominent new york accent but it's also not the closest to a philadelphia accent. growing up and just as he moved to new york, it was easy to place how there was a philly accent to his way of speaking... slowly but surely, it started to fade away and nowadays, he has more of a faint new york accent. ALLERGIES: none that he knows of. PHOBIAS & FEARS: trypophobia. MENTAL & PHYSICAL ILLNESSES: none so far. ALCOHOL USE: sometimes, mostly on social situations. SMOKING: yes, he’s been trying to reduce it but he still does smoke. NARCOTICS USE: if he's in the studio, completely stressed out and needing a way to get creativity flowing, he does smoke weed. INDULGENT FOOD: not very often. SPLURGE SPENDING: yes, sometimes. GAMBLING: no, never.

004. DIG DEEPER

CAN THEY DRIVE? yes, he can drive. CAN THEY COOK & BAKE? yes and yes. CAN THEY CHANGE A FLAT TIRE? yes. CAN THEY TIE A TIE? yes. CAN THEY SWIM? yes. CAN THEY RIDE A BICYCLE? yes. CAN THEY JUMP START A CAR? yes. CAN THEY BRAID HAIR? yes. CAN THEY PICK A LOCK? yes. EXTROVERTED OR INTROVERTED? extroverted. DISORGANIZED OR ORGANIZED? organized. CLOSE OR OPEN MINDED? open minded. CALM OR ANXIOUS? calm. PATIENT OR IMPATIENT? patient. OUTSPOKEN OR RESERVED? outspoken. LEADER OR FOLLOWER? leader, but willing to listen to others and compromise. OPTIMISTIC OR PESSIMISTIC? in-between. TRADITIONAL OR MODERN? modern. HARD-WORKING OR LAZY? hard-working. CULTURED OR UNCULTURED? cultured. LOYAL OR DISLOYAL? loyal. FAITHFUL OR UNFAITHFUL? faithful. NIGHT OWL OR EARLY BIRD? a mixture of both depending on the days. HEAVY OR LIGHT SLEEPER? not heavy, nor light. an in-between. COFFEE OR TEA? coffee. DAY OR NIGHT? night. TAKING BATHS OR SHOWERS? showers. COCA COLA OR PEPSI? coca-cola. CATS OR DOGS? dogs. NETFLIX OR CINEMA? cinema. SHOWS OR MOVIES? movies. LAPTOP OR GAMING CONSOLE? laptop. HEALTHY OR JUNK FOOD? healthy food. ICE CREAM OR FROZEN YOGURT? ice cream. PIZZA OR HAMBURGER? hamburger. LOLLIPOPS OR GUMMY WORMS? gummy worms. BEACH OR POOL? beach. SNOWBALLS FIGHTING OR ICESKATING? both. LITERATURE OR SCIENCE? literature. HISTORY OR ART? art. CHOCOLATE BARS OR COTTON CANDY? cotton candy. XBOX OR PLAYSTATION? playstation. FACE-TO-FACE OR PHONE INTERACTIONS? face-to-face interactions. DRAMA OR SCI-FI? drama. HORROR OR COMEDY? both.

005. JORDAN’S FAVORITES

FAVORITE ACTIVITY: songwriting. FAVORITE ANIMAL: panther. FAVORITE BOOK: he has no favorite book so far. FAVORITE COLOR/S: orange and blue. FAVORITE CUISINE: thai. FAVORITE DISH/ES: jollof rice, khao soi, nasi goreng and yum woon sen. FAVORITE DRINK/S: coffee, limeade and thai tea, patron and hennessy. FAVORITE FLOWER/S: chocolate cosmos. FAVORITE GEM: topaz. FAVORITE MOVIE: fences by denzel washington. FAVORITE SONG: like really by oddisee. FAVORITE SCENT/S: coffee, cinnamon, mint and citrus. FAVORITE SHOW/S: how to get away with murder is the only show he really follows and his all time favorite show is the fresh prince of bel air. FAVORITE SPORT/S & TEAM THEY SUPPORT: basketball, he supports philadelphia 76rs and miami heat, baseball, he supports new york yankees, american football, he supports philadelphia eagles, hockey, he supports philadelphia flyers and tampa bay lightning, soccer, he supports tottenham hotspur fc, barcelona fc and juventus fc, formula 1, he supports mercedes amg petronas, and the list continues — he loves sports. FAVORITE SEASON OF THE YEAR: fall. VACATION DESTINATION: sidi bou said, tunisia and bali, indonesia.

#── ✰. ┊ jordan : — HEADCANON. ❜

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aumonstax · 5 years

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The Truth Untold - Knight!Ten

Maybe back then A little Just this much If I had the courage to stand before you Would everything be different now?

It all started when you guys were kids

The little princess and the boy that lived in the sun house.

You were the heir to the throne, the only child to the Royal family.

It wasn’t a life you would have chosen for yourself, if given the option you always said you wanted to be a knight. They got the cool job.

You always had a fascination with swords and armour, which is how you met Ten.

His father was the Commander of the King’s Guard, one of the most highly regarded men in the country and a damn good swordsman.

You had a habit of running away from your nannies, none of the maids could keep their eyes on you for more than five minutes without you pulling some crazy stunt to run off to the armoury or the training quarters to catch a glimpse of them in action.

But you got caught. Every time.

After a while Ten’s father stopped ratting you out to your dad because they were good friends but he disagreed with keeping you away from the Knights, how else were you supposed to learn to defend yourself?

He secretly started to train you to fight; enter Ten, your new training partner and the Commander’s son.

He was soft-spoken and reserved, but that soon lightened with your goofy, carefree demeanour.

It was hard not to warm up to you, with a personality like yours people often joked about how you must have been blessed at birth by one of the Kingdom’s Mages.

The two of you would spend all day with each other, whether or not you were training. Some days you would just sit and watch, other days you would spend wandering the gardens together and he fought the urge to pick the daisies he wanted to tuck into your braids.

After a couple of months of you sneaking out to the training quarters, your father caught on and forbid you from going there.

And so you lost contact with your only friend.

Fast forward a couple of years and you’re a beautiful young princess, a year away from being ready to marry.

Being the only Heir, it was your duty to take over the throne and to do so you must be wed.

But also, now that you were known to other Kingdoms, you had to take extra precaution for your safety, and you were assigned a Knight to guard you always.

But dad, that’s why I wanted to learn how to fight. I’m too old for a babysi-

You stop mid sentence, suddenly breathless, when the door to the Great Hall is pushed open and a familiar figure enters the room.

He’s... different now. Most of the baby fat from his cheeks that you used to pinch having disappeared, they were replaced by high cheekbones, an elven nose and sharp eyes that send butterflies straight to your stomach.

Holy shi-

“I thought we could compromise. He graduated the academy at the top of his class, so I have absolutely no doubt that Ten is capable of protecting you with his life when and if necessary.”

You couldn’t stop staring at him, was he always this... beautiful?

He notices your eyes lingering on him for a second too long and the tips of his ears start to turn pink, if you hadn’t picked up on that tell tale sign of his embarrassment years ago, you wouldn’t have noticed it now.

And so, just like that you had your oldest and only lol fuck friend back in your life, although you had to admit things felt different.

It must have been the academy. It gave him the discipline and structure he needed, remembering how goofy you were as kids you could imagine it would have interfered with his training to continue playing around like when you were younger.

It took time but over the next few months together, he started opening himself back up to you and eventually it was like you were never apart. You had your best friend back.

But the problem was now he was really fucking hot, and you’re a 17 year old girl.

Did I mention he stood guard in your room while you slept ?

You weren’t sure when exactly he slept, but he had convinced you he did ... somehow ..

Unbeknownst to you, when Ten saw you that day all of his old underlaying feelings for you had resurfaced.

He’d loved you since you were only children, if he even knew what love was then.

All he knew was you were the only person to have made him feel the way he did, and seeing how fucking beautiful you were now just made him light headed.

How was it even possible for you to look that good in just a t-shirt and jeans?

And then to start spending time with you again, just to find out you were the same little dork you’d always been.. it filled him with so much joy.

Unlike you, Ten had grown up fortunate to have many friends. Most of them were also Knights now, but a few luckily worked in the kitchen.

He wouldn’t tell you, but that was how he managed to sneak so much food into your room late at night when you were craving cake but your father had told all of the maids not to bring you anything after 10pm because you wouldn’t sleep well on a stomach full of cake,, sure

What did he knew anyway? -eyeroll-

He risked getting in trouble for defying the King’s orders every time but he couldn’t help it, the cheeky grin on your face and the way your eyes lit up.. followed shortly by the bearhug you always gave him ... He was so weak for you, he couldn’t say no

Some nights you had nightmares, and he was always by your side brushing the hair away from your sweat covered forehead shushing you softly to soothe you back into a comfortable rest. Lips hovering millimetres from your temple, longing to kiss you softly .. but he never did, the closer he got, the more the pit of guilt in his stomach weighed.

Reminding him that he didn’t deserve you, he never would.

The morning after nights like that, he would always be slightly more quiet, more withdrawn and you wondered if you’d said something to upset him.

That year flew by, and before you knew it you were standing on a rotating stand with the castle tailor Taeyong measuring you for your ‘coming of age’ ball gown. It was a glorified auction. Your parents didn’t have to tell you but it would be the night they choose your future husband. The next King.

You sat in your room silently, thinking about all of your conflicting feelings while fiddling with the ring Ten gave you. He made it when you were kids, so proud of the first thing he’d ever made in his forging class, and naturally it had to be a gift for you... his best friend.

Was that all you were?

You couldn’t stop thinking about it, especially now.

Did he feel the same way you did? Did his heart ache for you the way yours did for him?

He burst into the room sounding out of breath

“There you are! Your father asked me to come find you, you were supposed to go to Taeyong an hour ago. He’s waiting to finally see the dress on you.... are you okay?”

He asked, noticing you didn’t look up when he opened the door, or even when he spoke.

You remain silent for a minute before standing up to face him, and you lock eyes. The serious expression painted across your face told him something was up, he’d never seen you like this...

“Ten I want to ask you something, and I need you to be honest with me.”

He nods slightly and you continue,

“Am I doing the right thing? Getting married to a stranger... I mean. I just feel like there’s something missing, shouldn’t I love the person I’m going to spend the rest of my life with?”

Realization starts to hit him, he knows where this conversation is going.

“I think that in your heart... you know what the right thing to do is. For everyone’s sake.”

You look at the ground between you in defeat, eyebrows furrowed.

“But what if... what if what’s right, and what’s best for me are two different things? What if I want to be selfish for once in my life? What if I want something that I’m not supposed to have.. but it’s all I’ve ever wanted... and it’s all I’ll ever want?”

Tears are forming in both of your eyes and he’s grateful you looked away, so you couldn’t see how desperately he wanted you too.

“Your father ... W-we shouldn’t keep him waiting..” His voice is barely above a whisper, afraid that if he spoke any louder everything he was holding in would just come tumbling out.

You nod once, still not looking up.

You felt so pathetic, you didn’t want Ten to see you cry; even if his expression mirrored your own without you knowing.

He escorted you down to Taeyong’s workshop to tweak the final few things on your gown for the evening, standing by the door but still inside the room. Even though Taeyong’s space was generous, the distance between the two men wasn’t so great that Taeyong missed the pained longing in Ten’s eyes when he turned you to face him, your hair and makeup now done.

“Isn’t she breathtaking?”

If there were any air left in his lungs Ten would have done more than nod dumbly, but it was all he could manage after seeing you. Words couldn’t describe the way you looked, you were ethereal.

That night Ten had to stand on the sidelines, in full armour, helmet and all, as tradition would dictate. Watching as the masses of Princes, Dukes and more all asked for your hand to dance, attempting to court you completely ignorant to the fact a Knight had already stolen your heart.

You were as cordial as you could manage to be, still aching from the rejection you faced earlier that evening.

One Prince had stood out from the masses though.

Jaehyun from the Jung Kingdom.

He was definitely one of the most handsome men in the room, with his wide doe eyes, dimples and cheshire grin... but it wasn’t that that had won your father’s approval.

He was a decorated Knight as well as a scholar.

‘Brains and brawn!’ He’d exclaimed while clapping a hand onto his shoulder proudly.

And so, your father had made up his mind.

You couldn’t complain, of all the men you’d met that night he was by far the kindest.

Sympathizing with your forced participation, as the two of you danced Jaehyun admitted he felt guilty that you didn’t exactly get a say in who you were to spend your life with. But if it were to be him.. he would do whatever it took to make you feel safe and happy by his side, and that he would promise on his life.

You almost didn’t notice Ten slip away, but Jaehyun points out his surprise at your personal guard not being by your side. You turn to look over your shoulder just as the door is closing behind him.

He couldn’t bare to watch, guilt eating at his heart reminding him he had just told you that you were better off without him.

The rest of the night carries on without Ten watching over you, and you almost feel worse without him there. As if you were dancing and laughing with another man behind his back...

And you had to remind yourself that you weren’t his, and he wasn’t yours. As mush as it hurt, you were free to enjoy Jaehyun’s company guilt-free because Ten didn’t want you. Ouch.

The next day you’re in your father’s office, Ten standing silently outside of the door, keeping watch like always.

The two of you are discussing the details of your arrangement with Jaehyun and the logistics of you moving to live with him in the Jung Kingdom, until your time to take over ruling when your father felt you were ready.

“So Ten will escort me there or is Jaehyun returning to take us with him?”

“Us?”

Ten cocks his head, overhearing the muffled conversation also curious to hear what would be happening.

“You know that Ten won’t be accompanying you once you leave the castle, don’t you?”

“...What?” Both of your hearts sinking at the thought of being separated again.

“Jaehyun is more than capable of protecting you, and he has a very sufficient Guard of his own. Ten will stay here to fulfill his duties and work along side his father. Besides, you’re too attached to him. You’re not a child anymore, people will start to talk.”

After that day Ten’s father has him working on training new recruits, taking the opportunity to give him some hard work now that Jaehyun had sent men of his own to watch over you until he’s able to come to escort you to your new home himself.

You don’t see Ten until the day you leave.

You’re packing the last of your things when you hear muffled talking outside, followed by the sounds of your guards walking away as the door opens quietly.

A mop of dark hair peaking around the open door before fully entering the room.

“So... this is it?” He asks softly, eyes on your hands working to pack away the last of your clothes into the trunk at the foot of your bed.

You don’t bother looking up before responding.

“I guess so. He’ll be here any minute.”

He nodded in acknowledgment, as you finally looked up.

“I guess I should be grateful this time I get to say goodbye at least...” he lets out a breathy laugh without humour, leaving the air thick with unspoken words.

“I’ll return one day, when my father is ready to let me take over the kingdom. But we both know he’s a control freak so we’ll see how long that takes..”

You both crack a slight smile this time.

Footsteps approach the door before a fists lightly raps at the wood, Jaehyun opening the door with a smile after you called to him that it was unlocked.

He and Ten acknowledge each other with a curt nod, but when his gaze lands on you Ten doesn’t miss the way his eyes soften.

And he doesn’t blame him, who wouldn’t fall in love with you?

Before you know it, you’re at the bottom of the castle steps, hand in the crook of Jaehyun’s arm as you wave goodbye to all of your loved ones.

It’s not goodbye, it’s ‘see you soon’. Jaehyun had said a few times while squeezing your hand lightly, noting the sad look on your face as you prepared to bid farewell to everyone you’ve grown up with.

He’s not here...

As the carriage takes you away to your new home, Ten watches from the window of your bedroom.

Clutching the ring you hadn’t noticed you left behind, he wondered when he would see you again.

I'm crying, That disappeared, That’s fallen. Left alone in this sandcastle, Looking at this broken mask.

68 notes · View notes

mickeycookies · 6 years

Note

hey hon I really like your karavette work (the other anon is right, that sunset comic always makes my heart flip!!) and I was just wondering if you have some kind of backstory as to how these two babes met and fell for each other etc? basically some lore on their relationship if you can call it that lol. keep up the good work!💕

First, I’d like to start this off by saying: OH MY GOD I’M SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG I’M SORRY I’M SORRY I’M SORRY!!!!!!!!!!!!

Their first meeting had always been dialogue-less in my head and so putting actual words and scenes into something that I always imagined to be wordless and just flashes of what happened, along with other things going on in my life and my inability to write, and my refusal to just give another brief explanation of how it went down because i’ll “draw it one day” all contributed to the 9,000 years it took me to finish this _(:3」∠)_ BUT IT’S HERE AND I DID IT AND I’M SO SO SORRY IT TOOK THIS LONG!

Ivette was created before season 2, so their first meeting is very much based on season 1 Karamatsu’s character and it’s kinda weird to think about now that he’s grown so much in season 2. But, this is the way I’ve always seen it, and I’m too attached to change it ｡(*^▽^*)ゞ Also, big thanks to Dr. @lazura and Professor @lenkachu for looking over this for me! You guys were a big help!

Ivette stared at the map on her phone with a blank face, the little blue dot blinking at her tauntingly.

‘Definitely took the long way … .’ she mentally grumbled to herself, wondering why she would even trust her sense of direction to begin with, ‘How did I even do that?’.

She should’ve just taken a taxi. She always took a taxi. Why didn’t she take a taxi?

Sighing, she powered on. There was no point in trying to reason with her past self’s misguided decision to walk because “it’s not that far!” She’d just have to remind herself next time that everything’s far in heels and that she should never trust herself to find a new spot without help from her friends ever again.

Her eyes tracked the little dot as she walked, examining street numbers and the estimated time it’d take to get there, ‘just past this bridge I’ll make a right and it should be at the next intersection …’ The thought of finally being able to sit down and enjoy some expensive sweets with what little time she most likely had left in her break outweighed everything else, and she was more than happy to be almost done with navigating this unfamiliar part of town.

‘Just a little bit longer!’

Ivette looked up from her phone to see how much further it would be until she hit the main street when something caught her eye.

A skull. On a leather jacket.

She came to a short stop where she stood, phone lowering as she stared at the form of a man down on one knee, bent forward in the bushes. Aside from the leather jacket that had originally grabbed her attention, she could see he also wore a pair of fitted blue jeans and scuffed brown Cuban-heeled boots, and she couldn’t help but be a little surprised at the sight.

A greaser? Here in Japan?

She regarded the jacket for a few seconds more, admiring the cut and the skull applique that was a dead giveaway it was vintage and well-loved.

“Come here, little one … it’s alright.”

Ivette watched quietly as he made beckoning motions into the bush and, ever so slowly, a cat emerged from the leaves, unsure. Her heart gave a little squeeze as the cat approached him slowly, hazel eyes big and curious as it sniffed his hand cautiously, judging whether he could be trusted or not. It stared at him, making a decision, before nuzzling against his hand, eyes closed contently. The man in the leather jacket chuckled, rubbing the cat’s head gently as it leaned into his hand, ears flattening at the touch. From the way he handled it, she was certain he had an affinity for cats, and she couldn’t help but smile at the scene, the sweetness of it all making it impossible not to. Snapping back to reality, she pulled her purse back up her shoulder, eyes shooting back to the phone in her hand. She didn’t have time to stand around and stare! Ivette walked away, stride a little faster as she refocused on her mission.

Quick footsteps sounded behind her and she turned to see a little girl, probably not older than five, running across the bridge towards them.

“Maru-chan!”

The little girl caught sight of the man in the leather jacket, the tabby and white-patched cat in his arms.

“Maru-chan!” the little girl ran towards him, and he turned to look at her, lifting his sunglasses with one hand to rest them on his head, surprised. She came to an abrupt halt before him, a little bag of treats held tightly in her fists, “Maru-chan, I’ve looked everywhere for you!”

The man looked down to the cat in his arms before smiling, brown eyes soft, “It appears you’ve reunited with your mama much sooner than we’d thought, little one.”

Ivette watched his every move intently, stepping a little closer to the two. The girl was alone without a guardian, all the warmth she’d felt previously towards the leather-jacketed stranger turned into cold wariness in a second. He shifted to kneel on his other knee, bringing himself to face the girl properly and lifted the cat away from his chest to look it in the eyes kindly, “How wonderful it must be, to have someone in this world who loves you.”

Ivette’s serious expression faltered a bit, his words stirring something within her. Her hand went to her chest, curling into a loose fist over her heart as she watched him carefully place the cat back into the little girl’s open arms. A small smile returned to her lips unconsciously when the child gave a happy cry, nuzzling into the cat.

Another set of quick footsteps caught her attention, this time faster and heavier, and Ivette caught sight of a woman running towards them. The woman ran past her much like the little girl, and over towards the other two, grabbing the girl by the shoulders.

“Don’t run away from Mom like that again!” She chided her, though her tone was far more distressed than it was angry.

The young girl nodded, cuddling the cat closer to her, “Yes, Mama …”

Ivette let out a relieved breath, the girl’s mother was here now, everything was going to be ok. She’d stood there long enough so she turned to leave.

She hadn’t even taken ten steps past them when she suddenly heard crying.

Looking over her shoulder at the group again, Ivette was surprised to see the little girl crying her heart out, holding her pet closer to her with one arm as the other pointed at the man in the leather jacket accusingly, “He did it! He stole Maru-chan!”

The man in the leather jacket jolted, eyes shooting to the child fast as lightning, “Ehh?!”

The little girl continued to sob, cries just getting louder and louder, and the greaser panicked, not knowing what to do, torn between trying to calm the crying child and defending himself. The mother’s hands clenched into tight fists and Ivette put her phone in her purse, deciding to step in and try to help clear things up.

“I’ve never seen this cat before in my life, Ma’am! I—!”

“He did it! He’s the one!” The little girl sobbed.

“O-OI!” A nervous bead of sweat dripped down his temple, and his eyes widened when he realized his mistake, “W-wait, please! I d-didn’t—!” Ivette was already rushing over but it was too late. The mother punched him, the force creating a sonic boom and sending him skidding across the pavement with a sickening sound. Ivette’s eyes widened in horror at the sight, her jaw falling open in a heavy gasp. She ran over without a second thought.

“Come on, let’s get you two home,” the mother said sweetly, taking her daughter’s free hand in her own and leading her out of the park, the little girl sticking her tongue out at the unconscious man sprawled out on the floor, steam radiating off his skull.

Passersby looked on at the scene in silence before shrugging it off and going about their business, not fazed by the poor man practically embedded into the concrete. Heads did, however, turn when Ivette dropped to her knees beside him, letting her purse fall to the ground next to her. Her hands hesitated, not knowing if it was ok to touch him, “Are you ok? Can you hear me?”

He groaned in response and she let out a sigh of relief. He was still conscious, that was good!

She looked up briefly when she realized that the woman was long gone by now and she cursed herself for not stopping her, “Shit!” She turned over things to do next in her mind, too panicked to settle on just one thing, ‘Should I report this? It was an assault, of course I should! Do I feel comfortable reporting a mother who was only trying to protect her child? No, no, there were other ways to resolve this, she didn’t need to hurt him! Does he want to report this??’ Ivette looked down at the man when he groaned once more, and she pulled her hair behind her ear nervously, leaning closer, “Is it alright if I help you sit up? Do you want to sit up?”

A slow nod was her answer and carefully she put one hand beneath his shoulder, wondering if she should support his head too, when he began to sit himself up on his own. She helped push him gently the rest of the way until he was able to sit up properly, but she kept her hands where they were, just in case he tipped over.

He rubbed his face slowly, bangs falling over his eyes, “Ah … Yes, t-thank you, my honey …”

Ivette processed his English, taken aback.

The man lifted his head and Ivette flinched, face drawn in shock at his face, caved-in into the shape of a fist perfectly, like a mold had been cast. Her mind went into overdrive as she started panicking again, ‘Oh my god!’ The greaser gave the back of his head a hard pat and his face seemed to pop right back to normal, at least she had thought so until she saw the red, angry swell to his eyes. A thin sliver of his brown irises were visible behind the puffy watering skin, and blood trickled from his nose; his left eye seemingly trembled at her for emphasis and Ivette was unable to stop herself from making another face at the sight.

At the silence, the man shifted nervously in his spot before crossing his legs and leaning forward in a “cool” pose like he wasn’t hurt in the slightest, “Heh … a kind stranger has come to my rescue. ” His voice was timid for the way he tried to present himself, “I am a honest man, I’ll admit this never—" He pitched forward suddenly, hand flying to his mouth as he hacked up blood, red squirting from between his fingers, and Ivette’s face paled, a horrified squeal escaping her.

“Thank you very much!” An elderly ice cream man thanked a couple of high school students, smiling wide as the two walked off enjoying their cold treats. His smile faltered in curiosity when the quick pounding of footsteps reached his ear, like something was rushing towards him and he turned to the noise only for a woman to slam her hands down on his stand with an incredible force, startling him. He stared on in confusion as she panted hard, hair sticking to her forehead from the run before looking up, still struggling to catch her breath, “T-two! No—two mai-No! Ni ice—!” Ivette whined, slamming a hand down on the counter, obviously frazzled and looking a bit crazy, “TWO! I NEED TWO! PLEASE!”

“They feel like they’re starting to melt, is it ok if I look?”

“O-of course! Please, do what you must!”

Ivette leaned a bit closer to him on the bench, peeling one of the softened monaka packages off the man’s left eye as carefully as she could. The swelling had gone down considerably, and she released a breath she hadn’t even realized she was holding in relief, shoulders relaxing, “Thank goodness, the swelling’s gone down.” Placing the package on her lap, she examined his eye more closely, “Can you see?”

He squinted his eye, trying to focus in on the woman sitting across from him, but all he could see was colors, all blobbed together, like looking through stained glass.

His lips flattened in a tight line, concentrating, and Ivette leaned in again, raising her hand to his face, “Here, maybe this will help …” She peeled the other monaka back just as carefully as the first, satisfied to see the swelling had gone down for his right eye as well, it squinting upon exposure to the light. The skin around his eyes was still an angry red, and he’d have some nasty bruising tomorrow, but for now she was just glad it looked better.

When he didn’t say anything, looking just as lost as before, she held up two fingers in front of his face, “Can you tell me how many fingers you see?”

He crossed his arms over his chest, leaning in close to her fingers, inspecting them intensely before closing his eyes, humming thoughtfully. She dropped her hand and wondered if the pain was too much to keep his eyes open when he gave a short shaky smirk, stroking his chin, “Trick question, my dear~”

“It … wasn’t,” Ivette bit her lip, thinking about what to do next, “Are you sure you don’t want to go to a hospital? I could—”

“Non, non, non! I couldn’t possibly burden my noble heroine any more than I already have!”

“I’m not—“ Ivette started, shaking her head flustered, “It wouldn’t be a burden at all.” There was only so much she could do for him with a few makeshift ice packs that weren’t going to survive the heat for long. Cleaning the blood off his face and wrapping a few monakas in hand towels wasn’t nearly enough to be called a heroine, or to qualify as decent medical care. “A real doctor could fix you up much better than I can …” she persisted, pulling another hand wipe from her purse when she noticed a dry fleck of blood she’d missed earlier near his mouth, “I’m going to clean the corner of your mouth again, is that ok?”

“Y-yes! It is!” He stiffened, warmth spreading across his face when her hand came to his cheek, gingerly holding him still as she rubbed the spot away with a gentle pressure, like he was something delicate, something cherished. Her hand was soft, and he felt himself flush deeper when he was overcome with the sudden urge to lean into it, quickly squashing the idea before he could consider it further, “Y-you’ve already done so much! It’s more than enough!” The wet sensation near his mouth was lifted away along with her hand and he opened his eyes, vision still cloudy.

Ivette’s brows furrowed as she regarded him with concern, “But you’re still hurt …”

“Heh~” The colors were starting to resemble a shape, the black and white smudge sitting across from him starting to have blurred edges, “I’ve born far worse than this, my dear, I’ll survive~”

Ivette looked at him quizzically, wondering what other scuffles he could have possibly gotten himself into before remembering how he hit the ground, “What about your head? Are you sure it doesn’t hurt?”

The man touched the back of his head gently, trailing his fingertips lightly over the back of his skull before applying more pressure, “It’s still a little tender, but nothing I can’t deal with!”

“Tender?” Ivette wanted to huff in frustration, what was his deal? Why all this talk about going through worse? Dealing with things? Not being a burden? He couldn’t see! Why couldn’t he worry about himself? “Is it alright if I take a look?”

He jumped, taken aback, “Uh, yes! O-of course!” He watched the black and white blur stand and he turned his head, unconsciously holding his breath as he waited for movement of any kind. Nobody had ever been this concerned about him before. His hands clenched as he thought about his family, and how quick his brothers were to dismiss him when he needed help, when he was in pain.

“Let me know if it hurts.”

“I will …”

“And also,” Ivette smiled weakly down at him, “Please be honest with me, ok?”

His heart started pounding in his chest and he could only nod, a small smile of his own crossing his face, “I will.” Her fingers gently grazed his hair and when he made no sign of discomfort she continued, slowly applying more pressure. Relaxing, he made sure he paid close attention to the spots she touched, trying to gauge his pain.

He … wasn’t used to this, actually being taken care of like this, and by a complete stranger no less. Memories of his brothers started to return, even though he’d told himself they’d moved past it and he didn’t need to think about it anymore. His own brothers couldn’t even be bothered to rescue him when his life was on the line, tied to a pole in the middle of the ocean or set ablaze in front of their own home. But this stranger … she stopped for him, when everyone else was perfectly fine with walking around him and leaving him there to pick himself up eventually. She helped him up, she offered to take him to a hospital, she ran off to get something cold for his injury, she even came back, that was what surprised him the most. With his luck he was surprised she didn’t just take off and leave him sitting there for hours until the realization that he was ditched set in. She did all that and then stayed with him, cleaning him up and taking care of him. He didn’t even know how long it had been, but he had a feeling it had to have been around an hour or more.

He didn’t know this woman.

But she was kind.

“No blood. Doesn’t seem to be any swelling …” she thought aloud to herself in English, impressed for how hard he hit the ground, “And you’re sure it doesn’t hurt anywhere?”

“Nothing to worry too much about, my dove! As I’ve said, I’ve endured worse!” If he were wearing his sunglasses he would have slid them up the bridge of his nose to hide behind them, feeling uncharacteristically shy. He cringed as he thought back to the incident, “My back took most of the impact, so my head should be more or less fine.”

“Your neck—” Ivette started only for him to interject, his hand going to rub the nape of his neck reassuringly.

“—Is fine! Don’t worry about me, Honey,” He closed his eyes, smirking at no one, “I’m sturdier than I look.”

Ivette frowned, moving to sit next to him again as she reached for the coldest monaka, re-wrapping it in the hand towel. It wasn’t going to last that much longer so might as well get as much use out of it as they could. She held it in her hand for a while as she thought; he didn’t want to go to the hospital and she couldn’t convince him to change his mind. He didn’t seem to have a concussion, but he still couldn’t see.

“I’m going to put this back on your eye, so it might be a little cold.”

“I can take it~”

His hand came up to his face to hold the ice cream package in place himself, calloused fingers lightly brushing her own in the transfer.

‘Maybe I can get him back to his house? Have someone there convince him to go … I’ll have to ask—’ Ivette’s brows furrowed.

His name.

She never asked for it.

“Uh …”

“Hmm?”

He blinked hard with his uncovered right eye, the fuzzy shapes becoming even clearer than before. The silhouette of his rescuer was sharper now.

Ivette pulled her hand back, embarrassed for keeping it on his own for so long, “Your name.”

“Eh?”

“I’m sorry,” She wondered how the thought had never crossed her mind earlier, “I never asked what it was.”

The man stared at her silently before realization dawned on him. He too also wondered how he’d never thought to give it to her, “Ah, my name …” Suddenly everything was too bright. He squinted, allowing his eyes to refocus, “It’s Matsuno Karamatsu.”

How long had he kept this poor woman here? The amberine glow to her eyes could only mean the sun was setting … but then why had it been so bright? It didn’t feel like it had been that long …

Karamatsu blinked hard again, only registering the other monaka being lifted to his face when the stranger began to lean in to him.

Ivette noticed his eye fall on the ice cream, something it hadn’t done the other times, before widening when it met hers. Her request to have him close his eye died on her tongue, her head tilting when his lips parted in surprise.

“Can you see it?” she asked gently, slightly worried about the spooked look on his face.

He didn’t answer. Karamatsu continued to stare, the hand holding the other ice cream pack slowly lowering to his lap as his eyes bore into hers.

It was still noon.

The sky was blue.

The sunset was really …

She sat back in her seat, concern dampening her features. He was frozen. Karamatsu blinked a few more times, his left eye seeming to adjust to the brightness before he shook his head, flustered.

“Y-yes! Yes, I could see it!”

Ivette smiled, relief washing over her, “That’s good!”

He could see again! That was good! But!

Her smile grew weak, “Are you still sure you don’t want to see a doctor?”

A couple walked by, the man sneaking a glance at Ivette before his girlfriend noticed, frowning and tugging on his arm hard, pulling him away faster.

Karamatsu couldn’t tear his gaze away from her eyes, almost entranced by them. His lips curled into a shy smile back, “Yes, I’m sure.”

This was the lovely stranger who had helped him. The kind woman who offered her hand when no one else would.

It didn’t matter what he had to do or how long it would take, he would repay the kindness she had shown him, he swore his life on it.

“Are you really going to be ok?”

Karamatsu flicked his bangs out of his eyes, smirking; the swelling was much better now, the skin around his eyes almost back to normal save for the crimson rings that were beginning to darken with bruises, “Worry not, my dear champion! This broken man is capable of putting the rest of his pieces back together again!”

Ivette’s lips turned up a little awkwardly, she wasn’t entirely sure she’d understood that quite right. She just decided to go with what she thought she’d heard, “I’m no champion.” She tucked some hair behind her ear as she laughed bashfully. “But I’m glad you seem to be a little better now.”

Karamatsu jolted, cheeks warming in a way that went unnoticed by her because of the red rings marring his skin.

Her laugh.

It was cute.

“Thank you.” He said it as sincerely as he possibly could, feeling like he’s never meant anything he’s said more. Even for something as small (she had claimed) as this. He wanted her to know.

Ivette pulled her purse back up her shoulder, waving it off, “There’s no need to thank me for anything, Matsuno-san.” Giving him an apologetic look, she continued, “I wish I could have done more.”

“I-it was enough!” he reassured her, louder than he’d intended to. He wanted her to know how much this meant to him. Needed her to know. Snapping his arms to his sides, he closed his eyes and bowed low, surprising most of the people that walked by, including her. “It was more than enough! Thank you! Thank you for everything!”

People stopped and watched as Ivette stared at him in shock, whispering about the strange scene amongst themselves.

A desperate man thanking a girlfriend-for-hire, perhaps?

Karamatsu was about to lower himself further, when her hands came to his shoulders, stopping him.

“You don’t have to do that!”

Something like this had never happened to her before, and slight social panic quickly overtook her, “Please stand up!”

The gentle push to his shoulders made him open his eyes slowly to the floor before trailing back up to her, confusion settling into his features. She seemed to realize she was still touching him and took her hands back immediately, slightly mortified. This was all just too much for her.

“But—!” Karamatsu started, only to be cut off by her.

“Please stand …” her voice was soft, and Karamatsu found himself drawn to the sunset of her eyes once more, practically begging him to do as she said. Karamatsu wanted to protest, wanting her to see just how serious he was about this, but begrudgingly stood, unable to deny such a heartfelt plea.

The crowd slowly began to disperse, uninterested now that the weirdo in the painful leather jacket wasn’t going to throw himself prostrate before the sexy foreigner anymore.

An awkward silence fell over them as they just stood there, both lost in their own thoughts of what to do next.

“Will you be able to get home safely?” Ivette asked, still hesitant to leave.

Karamatsu looked to her in surprise. Gathering his bearings, he melted right back into his usual cool self, “Your concern for me touches my heart, ma chère, but you needn’t worry for me. Already, I feel even better than I did before and should have no trouble going back the way I came!” Placing his sunglasses over his eyes, he smirked, the cracks running down the center of the lenses not bothering him in the slightest, “My home is also not too far from here so I should be fine.” He added, not as dramatically.

Smiling, Ivette took her phone out of her purse to call a taxi, after this little adventure she was certain she wouldn’t have enough time to attempt walking back to work.

Karamatsu was about to say something else when he noticed the woman’s eyes suddenly widen as she stared at the screen silently, grip tightening around the device in her hand. Her face paled, back straightening and mouth opening and closing repeatedly, like a fish stranded on land.

He unconsciously raised a hand out to her, concerned, “Is something wrong?”

It was 3:30. Her break ended three hours ago.

“I’m sorry I need to go!”

Karamatsu blinked at her, words quickly escaping him as he watched her turn slightly, still talking to him.

“I—” a thought came to her and she bowed courteously, “I’m sorry this is so abrupt, but I have to go back to work—now! Please take care of yourself, Matsuno-san!”

It was like the clock had struck midnight.

“W-wait! Please!” Karamatsu called out to her, reaching for her hand, before stopping himself.

The woman turned back to him, looking ready to break into a sprint at any moment. He was holding her up, he knew this, having the audacity to keep her there longer, but he couldn’t just let her walk out of his life never having her kindness paid back in full.

“Is there any way I can repay you for all you’ve done?” Karamatsu asked.

She was taken aback, raising her hands in front of her, she shook her head, “I’ve already told you, Matsuno-san, there’s no need to!”

“I want to!” He assured her earnestly, “I know you think that this wasn’t much, but it was! And I couldn’t possibly let you go without letting you know how grateful I am!”

Ivette bit the inside of her cheek, not knowing what to do. He didn’t need to repay her anything, but she also didn’t have the time to go back and forth with him about it like before. He didn’t seem to be trying to weasel her into a date with him as her “payment” like other guys, so that was nice. He wasn’t up in her space, he wasn’t keeping her prisoner by the hand, he seemed to want to pay her back simply because he thought it was the right thing to do, even though she thought it wasn’t necessary.

Sighing, she came to the conclusion that just once it would be ok. The burden of “paying her back” would be lifted from his shoulders and he’d never have to worry about it again. She could ask for something small and that’d be the end of it.

“Ok …” she conceded, “Ok.”

Karamatsu beamed, and Ivette gawked at the sight for a moment. It was the happiest she’d seen him so far.

“But not now,” she reminded him, “I need to go back to work, so some other time?”

“Yes, of course!” Karamatsu’s eyes were sparkling, elated.

“Here,” Ivette opened up her contacts list and made a new one, “Why don’t you give me your phone number and—”

“Ah, my phone number …” his hand came up to stroke his chin, expression turning sheepish, “I don’t have a phone.”

Ivette stared at him incredulously. Realizing that she was just wasting time staring at him, she locked her phone, “Not even a home phone?”

“I do but—you see it’s—” He rubbed the back of his neck, unsure how to explain not wanting her to call only to have one of his brothers answer the phone instead, “complicated.”

Ivette’s lips formed a tight line, knowing she needed to go setting her nerves on edge, “Ok …” She opened her purse, digging around for a pen. She always carried one, where was it? Her eyes settled on her business card holder and she snatched it up, relieved that she hadn’t left it at work.

Karamatsu watched curiously as she walked closer to him, slipping a card from the baby pink holder before placing it back in her bag. With both hands on the card she handed it over to him with a light bow, and Karamatsu jolted, reaching for it and doing the same. This was the most professional interaction he’d had in a long time and Karamatsu grimaced internally, realizing he should feel some sort of embarrassment that it had caught him off guard.

Stepping even closer, she pointed to a number on the card, “This is my cell phone number. I’m usually off work after 7 but you can leave me a message during the day if you’d like.”

He nodded, listening intently as she listed all the other times he could try calling her as briefly as she could.

Taking a step back, she clapped her hands together, “Is there anything else?”

His gaze went from the card in his hands, to her, “No, I believe that’s it. Thank you. Again, for everything.”

The woman smiled, and he smiled shyly back.

“Good!” Glancing at the clock she suddenly noticed on the other side of the walkway, her eyes shot back to him, “I have to go now.” Retrieving her phone once more she pulled up the number for a taxi, starting to turn as she did so. She hit the call button, but looked back to him one last time, “Please, take care of yourself, Matsuno-san.”

Karamatsu wanted to say something back, to tell her to do the same, but she was already gone, phone pressed to her ear as she ran towards the main street. He was amazed at how fast she could run in her heels, worry suddenly taking over with the thought that she could get hurt.

Heads turned as she ran past, and Karamatsu realized he should have walked her to wherever she was being picked up. He made to follow when he saw her come back from around the corner, a taxi pulling up beside her. She hopped in—ever elegant, even in a hurry—and then she was gone.

Karamatsu stared at the spot he’d last seen her, wide-eyed.

Scenes from a fairytale flashed through his mind, the situation feeling all too familiar. He murmured to himself, wide eyes sparkling, “My Cinderella …”

The thought that he’d never gotten her name followed immediately after.

Eyes dropping to the card in his hand, he moved the thumb that was covering it quickly, reading the katakana for her name and sounding it out to himself.

‘Ivette.’

The front door slid open, and Osomatsu looked up from where he was laying on the floor to see who it was.

“I’m home …”

Oh, it was just Karamatsu.

“Yeah, yeah, welcome home!” he called over his shoulder uninterested. When Karamatsu said nothing else and walked heavily to the staircase, that caught his attention. Usually Karamatsu wouldn’t shut up, whether it be try-hard deep nonsense or something about his day and what he’d done, he always had something to say, and this sudden silence freaked Osomatsu out a bit. Pushing himself to sit up, he watched Karamatsu trudge up the stairs looking like a zombie, and was that … something pink in his pocket? Osomatsu was silent as he watched the figure of his younger brother disappear, wondering if something happened. Shrugging it off, he reached for another handful of Ichimatsu’s chips, attention going back to the tv.

Karamatsu always had something to say. If something was wrong he’d tell his nii-chan.

Karamatsu slid the door to their room open, relieved for once to see it was empty. Shuffling in, he slid the door shut behind him and reached into his pocket, pulling out the business card. He stared at it for a few moments before sliding down the wall to sit on the floor, thinking.

This was a girl’s phone number.

It was on a business card, but it was still her phone number.

He examined it further, flipping it around to see it was identical on the backside but written in English.

Girls didn’t go through the trouble of making fake business cards, did they?

He shook his head, berating himself. He didn’t have her number to take her on a date, he was just going to pay her back, that was all. Karamatsu reached into his other pocket, almost forgetting about the hand towels he’d shoved in there right before entering the house. Unfolding one of them in his palm, he looked at it. The small white towel had a pink border, a pattern of pastel heart shaped objects from some magical girl anime he wasn’t familiar with decorating it, and he felt himself melt a little at how adorable it was.

He had to find a way to wash them without anyone finding out. He would return them the next time he saw her.

‘The next time …’

Karamatsu looked back to the card, blushing as his eyes traced the characters of her name once more.

He’d have to find a safe place to hide everything; nothing was ever safe amongst these wolves, the fact that everyone knew where each other’s porn stashes were was proof enough of that.

#12 PAGES WHAT'S UPPPPPPPPPPPPPP #IT'S HERE IT'S FINALLY HERE #I'M SO SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG--REALLY REALLY SORRY I'M SORRY!!!!!!#I'M SO PROUD OF MYSELF YOU KNOW WHAT?? I'M ACTUALLY GONNA PUT THIS IN HIS TAG #Karamatsu #Karamatsu Matsuno #EEEEEEYYYY LOOK AT THAT I /NEVER/ DO THAT #BUT I'M HAPPY #SO LEAVE ME ALONE #karamatsu's girlfriend #I'm-I'm so happy I was able to finish this #answered

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the-canary · 6 years

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Old Haunts - B.B

Summary: You could agree that your life was a series of regrets, then how was this weekend going to be any different? (Modern AU!Reader/Bucky Barnes)

Prompt: If I could, I’d do it all over again.

Word Count: +3K

Masterlist

A/N: This is for @cumonbucky ‘s 6k writing challenge. idk if it helps but i was listening to laughing with a mouth full of blood by st. vincent while writing this, so consider it mood music.

Please enjoy and feedback is always welcomed.

‘If you could pinpoint what lead you to all the mistakes you made this weekend, you could probably attribute it to being friends with one Pietro Maximoff. After running away and hiding on the other side of the country for so many years, the bastard had given you the bright idea of heading back to your old running ground of New York City to show that you weren’t scared anymore, that you could stand on your own two feet unlike back in high school and could celebrate with others the fine marriage of your close friend Margaret “Peggy” Carter and one Steven Grant Rogers, high school sweethearts. He would by your side, so you could laugh at the assholes that you knew hadn’t done anything with their lives.

No, you’re weren’t bitter, but you were petty and maybe that was your second problem.

Sorry! He’s in the emergency room right now. I’ll make sure he makes it up to you. --W.

The third is that a certain platinum blond surfer had to “hang ten” for a pretty girl instead of getting ready for his flight (like he had promised) and ended up in the hospital with a herniated back, and a heavy promise that you’ll send him back once you return from this disaster. This leads you to your forth problem -- a wedding with a bunch of people from high school that you know will make you miserable, but you love that woman too damn much to miss this.

There’s no problem with the flight and the 2 hour commute into Brooklyn in afternoon traffic seems like a breeze compared to the LA traffic you deal with every morning. Finding the hotel is easy, everything is perfect for now.

The next problem comes in the form of a couple, arguing or making out you aren’t quite so sure, in the middle of your floor as you try to make it to your room. The woman pushes him further into the wall, as if trying to hide him from you, as you try your hardest to not look up and see their faces.

“Babe, it was just one time. I promise,” the woman’s sugary voice causes you to pause for a moment at its familiarity, but you push it aside due to nerves and jet lag as you rummage for the little plastic card the hotel gave you to open your room.

“And I said no,” the man answers back as he pushes her back and you can’t help but root for him, as the woman tries to catch her lips with his, “It’s over.”

“Wow, pathetic ,” you whisper to yourself loudly, catching the attention of the couple, but you have already unlocked the door and entered the large room you which you will hopefully have a lot of extra time with this weekend, completely unaware of wide blue eyes you left mesmerized in the hall.

The next problem is agreeing to this brunch with all the important guests that Peggy and Steve are having at their wedding, which means a lot of people you might know, but there is one that is definitely going to be there and which you dread the most -- James Buchanan Barnes. The man had been your ideal back in high school, he had also been the shining beacon of the school since he was both the smartest kid around but also the most athletic, bringing in trophies in anything that he tried throughout your four years of high school. You ran in some of the same circles, especially when Peggy started dating Steve, but you were better at standing off in the sidelines than trying to talk to him. The last time you had heard about the man was that he had a pretty girlfriend and had signed up for the Army midway through college.

But, you do your best with what the world has given you and dress up in a nice summer dress, cardigan, and flats to take a cab and head to quaint brunch set up in downtown. You state your name and are welcomed to the sight of some twenty chairs and a smiling dark-haired woman. Peggy and you hug, quickly chatting up on everything you have missed due to being away, however one thought lingers in your brain as more people, though fewer than you expected come into the room.

“What happened to the whole big she-bang ?” you question, remembering not that long ago how Peggy would describe her wedding as the event of the year, but it seems that time and Steve had eased certain thoughts.

“We compromised, close friends and family,” Peggy explains with eyes full of love and adoration before asking, “What happened to your plus one?”

“Flirted with a pretty girl, hurt his back,” you explain, since Peggy knows who Pietro really is and knowing there are less people than you thought there was going to be puts you in a happier mode.

You sit down next to a familiar red haired woman, Natasha, and congratulate her on her own recent engagement to Sam, a college friend of Steve’s. Clint hugs you and tell you about the three kids him and Laura and makes you promise to meet them soon. Angie is there too, hugging you the longest and making you promise that you’ll share some juicy celebrity gossip later. Everything is calm but classy, reminding you of the soon to-be wedded couple.

Your true problem for the rest of this event shows up 20 minutes late with Steve, who apologizes for being late due to the heavy traffic. Said problem sits across from you: long hair tied in a man bun wearing a dark blue button up, dark jeans, and a leather jacket. Blue eyes look up to meet yours as he gives you a bashful smile and you feel your face heat up at that moment.

Bucky Barnes had aged like a fine wine.

Maybe, your problem had been one too many mimosas as you gushed about Pietro and Wanda like some doting mother, or maybe that you allowed yourself to be taken back to the hotel by one Bucky Barnes, since he was also staying there as well. That’s when you learn that Dr. Barnes spends his time between Los Angeles and New York in rented sublets due to his work with Stark Industries in regards to biomedical engineering, specializing in prosthetic development and war-based trauma and recovery, though he still humble as hell. At least the drinking made you forget about your quickly reemerging crush on the man.

“So, what do you do?” he questions as the two of you walk back in the crisp spring weather. You quirk an eyebrow because you clearly remember telling everyone what you did when you were all introduced to each other, but shrug guessing that Bucky must have forgotten something so minimal about a person he never talked to.

“I’m a literary editor,” you explain with a smile on your face, “On occasion, I’m a columnist for some online and local newspapers in regards to books.”

“That’s amazing,” Bucky breathes out, as you turn to look at him because he must be joking but all you see is clear admiration on his face, which cause you to become tongue tied.

“Yeah, thanks,” you mumble, not really sure how to handle the sudden praise. It wasn’t like you saved lives on a daily basis like he did.

“I think it’s great that you still--” he goes onto explain a bit more, but his thought process is broken as another body crashes into his and doesn’t seem to let go. You’re confused for a moment, but the red hair and Bucky’s exasperated voice immediately remind you of the couple from the day before.

“Who’s she?” the clingy woman questions.

“Dot,” he uses that tone of voice and you know it’s them. Bucky looks at you with pleading eyes and in the middle of the street you aren’t sure quite to do. Leave him or help him? And in split second, you decide to just dog-pile more problems onto your shit list.

“ Excuse me,” you say in that fake angry tone that makes the Maximoffs head for the hills, “Could you let go of my date, please?”

“ WHAT!?” they both say at the same time, as she lets go of him to look at you. Her face sparks some type of recognition, but you can’t place from where and you can tell it’s same for her but before you can go any further with that train of thought, you grab Bucky’s hand.

“Run, Bucky, Run!”

You try not to regret letting go of his hand and running towards your room without an excuse or so much as talking to him again when you know that you’re the only ones that know each other in the hotel. It’s easier to ignore your stupid heartbeat with a quick nap until you have to meet up with the ladies again to celebrate Peggy’s last night of freedom with a nice dinner.

It’s close to 7:30 pm when you’re done preparing and ready to go out when you hear a knock at your door. You pray that it isn’t the woman, if she even remembers you, ready to fight you over Bucky -- instead it is the man himself wearing a black on blue suit that make his eyes pop a little more than usual with his hair slicked back to the base of his neck.

“I was…” his voice trails off as gets a good look at you, wearing a long wine-colored dress and your hair placed delicately over your right shoulder, “I-f you wanted to share a cab.”

“Sure,” you smile, a little proud that you made the Bucky Barnes stumble over his own words for abit. You grab your jacket and purse before leaving the room and follow the man to where all the cabs stop in front of the hotel. It was quite until one pulls up, but you spent most of your time drinking up a sight you were likely never to see again.

“I’m sorry about Do-Dolores,” he finally speaks once the two of you are inside the cab, “We broke up awhile back, but she doesn’t give up.”

“ Oh shit , that was Dot,” you exclaim, remembering a more youthful version of her that was constantly around Bucky back in high school, though you don’t remember correctly they dated back then. Maybe it happened during college, nevertheless you couldn’t help but add as an afterthought, “Anger does not do the face well.”

Bucky lets out a chuckle before suppressing it since you were still kind of making fun of his ex, but you couldn’t help but smile at the softer look suddenly on his face. Whatever that woman had done, if had hurt him deeply and while he was still handsome, his face wore a seriousness you found yourself waiting to get rid of. You move in a bit more, since the small cab seat could only accommodate the beefcake of a man so much. He looks out the window, and you can’t help but open your big mouth -- a daily problem in your life.

“Why did you break up, if you don’t mind me asking?” you asks softly as he turns to look at you with a heartbroken expression.

“She was cheating, got tired of dating a…” he tightens his gloved hand, as he shakes his head unable to finish his sentence. You regret asking now.

“Wow, her fucking loss then,”you yell out, causing the driver to give you a weary stare, as you grasp his gloved hand tightly with the brightest smile you can muster, “I’m sure you’re gonna find a great woman, Bucky. She’s just waiting for you out there.”

“Thanks,” he sighs out softly, and you aren’t quite sure that he believes you. So, this is where you make your next mistake as the cab pulls up to the French restaurant that is holding Peggy’s bachelorette party.

“Have a good night, party animal,”you state, as your hold on his hand tightens as you drag him to your side for a moment. You plant a small kiss on his cheek before letting you and getting out of the cab, leaving without seeing his reaction. However, your face is a bright red for the rest of the night, and even Peggy worries if you’re sick for a moment.

“So, you and Bucky?” the red haired woman question, as she walks up to you with a drink and smile. The both of you are off to the sidelines watching the newly married Mr. and Mrs. Rogers sharing their first dance together in the quaint reception hall.

“So, you and Sam?” you answer back, but it’s a poor deflect because its implications on you and the best man have her smiling and you can’t help but groan. You look around to see the dark-haired man dancing with a little girl, one of Peggy’s nieces, and your heart throbs with an all too familiar feeling.

“I’m just letting you to take care of yourself,” Natasha explains,”Dot’s always been kinda of crazy and I know how you’ve pinned for Bucky since high school.”

“Thank you, fairy godmother,” you remark before turning to look for the buffet table. She lets out a frustrated sigh though knowing that everything will be okay, because that just the type of thing she knows. Natasha smirks as she sees Bucky turn to looks your way.

However, walking around things has always been a speciality of yours and you do great in avoiding Bucky for most of the night, that is until you’re standing behind the building trying to call Wanda or Pietro for moral support. Bucky is standing some ways away from you, talking to a familiar woman and you feel a chill running up your spine when you feel her eyes land on you -- and that becomes the biggest problem of the whole night.

“Poor, poor little girl,” Dot exclaims as she makes her way over to you,“Still in love with Bucky, huh?”

You flush red and turn away, not wanting to see Bucky’s reaction to what she had just said.

“Well, I show you,” Dot launches at you, ready to do something but you put all your instincts in the one thing that that Pietro taught you well -- throwing a mean right hook. And maybe in her anger, Dot doesn’t see it but you hit straight in the right cheek and watch her fall to the ground without much thought. You take a deep breath and move as far as you can from her body.

“Are you okay?” Bucky asks as the both of you lean on the cement wall of the building.

“Damn, I owe Piet $50 bucks now,” you breathe out raggedly as you fall onto the floor while the adrenaline slowly starts to leave your body. Bucky frowns again, but doesn’t stop him from holding your hand until after Sam and Natasha arrive.

The last problem connected to this weekend is that in everything you have fucked up, you let yourself get dragged by one James Buchanan Barnes to the hotel’s downstairs bar on what’s supposed to be your last night in Brooklyn. He tells you that Dot won’t bother him anymore after you had promised not to fill charges, and it wasn’t like she could do anything either especially when Sam -- very good New York lawyer-- stepped up. All’s well that ends well, as the saying goes though it seems that drinking Bucky was also a reflective Bucky.

“ If I could, I’d do it all over again ,” Bucky murmurs somberly, as you give him a questioning stare, “Would you believe me if I said I liked you back in high school?”

“Bullshit,” you exclaim, shaking your head, “ The Bucky Barnes, debate champion and all-star athlete, like me? I’m sorry, but nope ,” you pop the ‘p’ at the end as he rolls his eyes at your inebriated change of attitude.

“You were cuter back in high school,” he remarks as you scoff ready to make another sarcastic remark, “But, now you’re just fucking gorgeous. I could…”

“Could what? Kiss me?” you remark casually, clearly thinking that wasn’t the first thing on his mind, but dark blue eyes looking straight into yours quickly make you question that notion.

“Shit,” he groans out, as you give him a more devious smile while pulling your chair closer to his.

“Seriously, what’s stopping you?” you tilt your head and question.

“I ain’t a homewrecker, doll,” he explains before taking another chug of his beer. A dimmer look on his blue eyes than before, and then you remember you supposedly have a boyfriend. Who’s stupid idea was that?

“ Oh, you mean Pietro. Nah, we’re like best friends,”you explain as you pull out of picture of him and his pretty nurse, “He was just gonna pretend, but he fucked his back over some chick.”

“You’re not pulling my leg?” he questions and gets closer to you. Bright blue eyes trapped yours for the moment, as his right hand grazes over your cheek.

“Why would I lie to get laid?” is the last thing you say before the Bucky Barnes pulls you in for the best kiss of your life. It’s slow and sweet, as if testing out the waters until you sigh softly and let his tongue enter your mouth and play with your slowly, as if savoring the moment.

“This isn’t a one-time thing, sweetheart,” he hums softly after letting you go, though it takes you a moment to realize what he is saying. He smirks at your current state and you can stop grinning at the idea, as you pull him into another kiss.

It seems that Bucky Barnes is planning on making himself a long term problem within your life, and for once the old haunts of high school don’t seem to bother you as much anymore.

#toriswritingchallenge #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes au #series: short stories #fabiola trying to write

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dascarecrow · 3 years

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The Failed Raid - The Worries of Those Left Behind I

Aizawa made his way back into dorm, still questioning how Nezu could support an outright idiotic notion like this assignment. Having first year students launch a raid on a villain group? He didn’t care if there were other Pros on hand to help them. He didn’t even care that one of those Pros was Hawks. This was a situation the faculty should have handled the second they had the information to go forward. But no the government made a supremely irrational decision solely to make itself look better with no regard for who would be affected in the end.

The eternally sleepy teacher internally sighed. He was cynical by nature and often defaulted to worst case scenarios. It helped him not only survive but prosper as an underground hero. Still, dwelling on the worst outcomes possible when he could do nothing change them wasn’t a rational way of doing things right now. He decided to think on the advantages that were present in this situation. Snipe and Cementoss were there, so at least the school had feet on the ground if anything went wrong. That was one stipulation Nezu fought tooth and nail to be given in exchange for the school’s cooperation on this assignment.

There were also the other Pros involved. Besides Hawks, Edgeshot and Kamui Woods were also present. That meant there were three Pros in the Top Ten on hand, one of whom was the Number Two hero. That thought did not help his mood in the slightest. There was always the chance of something going wrong, no matter how good the Heroes on hand were. He should have been one of the Heroes on hand, no matter what reasoning was given for doing things this way. At least then he could do something!

‘Ugggh. I need some coffee.’ Aizawa was on his way up the stairs, focusing his attention on getting the caffeine that would keep him somewhat more functional in case he was needed. ‘Some of the students are probably up by now. Hope they aren’t asking questions yet. That is not a conversation I am ready for.’ Entering the dorm Aizawa was surprised to see not a few students wide awake but all of them. They were scattered about, some talking among themselves, others trying to make breakfast, and a few just off by themselves in what he guessed was deep thought.

“Oh Aizawa-sensei. You’re back.” Momo has approached him the second she caught sight of him. “What is the status with the raid?” Aizawa took a second to respond, still surprised to see everyone wide awake already. “Couldn’t say. My job was getting everyone there and then returning. Why is everyone up already?” Momo seemed a bit sheepish at the question. “Oh that. Well everyone was a bit anxious so we set our alarms for the same time. We wanted to make sure if we were needed we’d be prepared. Everyone even got their schoolwork finished last night so there wouldn’t be any concerns to take our attention away.”

Aizawa nearly stumbled at the maturity and foresight his students were showing but something interrupted him before he could voice his opinion on it. “YO Shouta!” Aizawa blearily turned around and saw that Mic and Midnight had shown up, though he couldn’t think of why. “What are you two doing here?” Mic’s energetic smile didn’t waver at all at the accusatory tone he received. “We wanted some breakfast and the 1-A dorm always has the best grub!” “Yeah that’s right Aizawa-sensei!” The sleepy teacher turned to look at the new voice, which belonged to a newly arrived Nejire who was with Tamaki and Mirio. So the Big Three had shown up as well. “You’re here for breakfast too?” The spiral girl nodded her head with unvarnished pride at the question. Aizawa really needed some coffee.

“Know what, I do not have it in me to care right now. Just... don’t make a mess alright.” “Oh ho seems like we caught you in a generous mood today Shouta. I’m honestly surprised. I thought you’d be snoozing away at the first chance you got, what with it being a weekend and all.” Aizawa fought the urge to snark at his friend, not in the mood for Mic’s taunting if he did. “Who can sleep with all of this energy going on? I don’t know how you two are so energetic in the morning.” That had been the wrong thing to say given Midnight’s mischievous grin. “Willfulness is a woman’s right Shouta. Are you unhappy about me being here for some reason? Did I fill your thoughts and dreams last night perhaps?” Aizawa fought every sharp retort that was at the front of his mind, knowing that any response would just spur his shameless coworker to act up. Fortunately for him she took notice of one particular student.

“Oh my what is going with her?” The her in question was Uraraka, who was looking out the window at the front gate of UA. Worry and concern seemed to be chiseled into her face. Mina came up beside Midnight with a grin promising mischief. “Oh she’s just worrying over her darling husband, like any good devoted wife.” Now that caught Midnight’s interest. “Husband? Devoted wife? Oh this I have to hear.” Mina’s smile seemed to brighten despite no change in shape. “You mean you haven’t heard? It would seem 1-A’s dear little unicorn has decided Uraraka over there is her Mama and that Midoriya is her Papa. Oh it is just so adorable to see them fussing over her like she really is their daughter. And... well you can’t have a Mama and a Papa if they aren’t together now can you?” Midnight’s own smile was brightening as much as Mina’s. “Indeed. I do believe now would be the perfect time for a bit of teasing to lighten her worries.” “Midnight-sensei I like how you think.” As the duo made their way to a fretting Uraraka with thoughts of embarrassment on their mind Aizawa as reminded of something he had to take care of. And he decided now was the best time for it so he wouldn’t run the risk of dealing with a plotting Midnight. His students cost him enough sanity, thank you very much.

“Eri could you come here?” The young girl obediently did as he asked. Aizawa took out something which turned out to be a clockwork looking train. “The Support Course finished making a new toy for you. I grabbed it on my way back.” Eri held her new toy reverentially. “Thank you Uncle Aiza.” The young girl walked away with her new treasure and gained attention from some of the other students with how carefully she was carrying the train. “Whatcha got there Eri? Ribbit.” “It’s a new toy that the Support people made for me.” “What does it do?” Shoji saw fit to ask. “I don’t know.” “Want some help figuring it out?” Eri shook her head. “Mhmh. I want to show it Papa so he can help me when he gets back.” She said with a shining wide smile. Most of the class had to fight to keep their hearts from giving out from the cuteness they were witnessing. Those who weren’t were diverted by something else.

Mina and Midnight snuck up behind Uraraka, not much of a challenge given how distracted she was at the moment. “So what has you so worried?” The quick and sudden words snapped Uraraka out of her worry. “Oh, Mina. It’s nothing. I just have a lot on my mind right now.” “Oh really. You wouldn’t happen to be fretting over your dear husband now would you?” Uraraka’s blush only made Mina smile wider. “W-what? I-I don’t know what you’re talking about?” “Now don’t be shy dear.” Uraraka turned her gaze to Midnight, who’s smile did nothing to ease her. “It’s quite obvious to anyone with eyes. You’re gripped by the passion of young love! Don’t deny it! Don’t reject it! It is yours! Embrace it! Show it to the world!”

Uraraka’s embarrassment only increased. “W-what are you talking about? Young love? I don’t- There is nothing like that happening with me!” “Oh you can’t deny it. I know all about young Eri’s declaring you and young Midoriya her parents. And you’ve both taken to the role out of nothing more than the goodness of your hearts! It’s inspiring! Invigorating! You have found for yourself not only a daughter but a lover as well!” “L-l-lover? Now wait a minute! Deku and I are not like that!” “Oh? And yet you stand there, casting your gaze upon the front gate, awaiting his return as a wife would for her darling husband.”

If her face had been any redder you would think Uraraka was on fire. “You-you’re wrong. Deku and I aren’t like that. I-I chose... It’s just not how we are alright?” Midnight leaned in, her smirk promising no end for bashfulness. “But you want it to be. Don’t you?” Uraraka looked at her in surprise at the notion. Of course she didn’t want to be with Deku like that. She didn’t want to know what it was like to have him hold her close, to whisper sweet nothings into her ears, to have him lean in close to capture her lips while her heart raced at the prospect.... okay she did want that but it wasn’t something he wanted so there was no point.

Mina got in her face along with Midnight. “Yeah Ura it’s written all over your face. You are totally crushing on him.” “Woah really?” Nejire had noticed something going on and made her way over. “You’re crushing on someone Uraraka? Oh my gosh! Oh who is it? Is it that Bakugou guy? He seems way to intense and angry for someone like you. Oh is it Iida? He seems a little high strung but I guess he’s a good choice. Definitely seems reliable and stable.” Mina decided to cut her off. “Actually it’s Midoriya.” Nejire’s eyes started shining. “Oh. My. Gosh. He’s perfect for you Ura! You’re both sweet and kind! He’d definitely stay loyal and true! Have you guys gone on a date yet? Have you two had your first kiss? Wait... have you already had your first kiss at all?”

Uraraka was feeling overwhelmed by the embarrassment assault she’d been receiving but Nejire’s question was the boiling point. She said something she would deeply regret almost as soon as she said it. “I’ve never kissed anyone before! Much less Deku!” The three stopped their teasing of Uraraka to look at her in something that could only be described as sympathy. “So that means... if you kissed Midori... you’d be giving him your first kiss! Oh that is so romantic!”

Uraraka was on the verge of giving up, especially in light of Nejire’s well meaning cluelessness. “It doesn’t matter.” She said firmly. “I chose to put away any feelings I might have. So I can focus on becoming a hero.” Midnight surprised her by laughing out loud. “What is so funny?” “You honestly think you’re the first student to chose their career over anything else? Oh I’ve lost count of all the stories I’ve seen that wind up just like that.” Midnight’s gaze on Uraraka softened. “You shouldn’t take things so seriously. Yes you are trying to be a hero. But you’re also a young woman. You’ll be a grown adult with all of those trials and worries soon enough. Nothing says you aren’t allowed to enjoy the flames of youth, especially when the passion of love is involved. Pursue it with everything you have! That is the way of youth!”

Uraraka stared at her teacher in awe, along with a mix of concern that she was actually out of her mind. “But... I already decided not to.” “So? You are young. Indecision is supposed to grip you in the face of such grand things. You can always change your mind you know. So the question here is not if you have feelings for the boy but rather what do you want to do about those feelings?” Uraraka couldn’t muster up any response to Midnight’s inquiry. “I... don’t know.” Mina brought her smiling face up again. “You know Ura you haven’t actually said we were wrong about your feelings for Midoriya. Does that mean we’re right?”

Uraraka’s face turned ruby red at Mina’s accusation. “Oh look at the time I should really go help with breakfast!” The round face girl made her escape from the teasing trio as fast she could without causing any mayhem. Said trio was laughing their heads off at the girls obvious love for the green boy. “Oh she has it bad.” Mina chimed in. “I know right. A neon sign would be less obvious.” Nejire commented. “Indeed. It seems young Uraraka is going to need some assistance when it comes to admitting her feelings about young Midoriya. Oh what fun this is going to be.” Midnight began laughing, starting softly but elevating to frankly disturbing levels. Everyone who heard her was concerned. Aizawa just knew he was going to get a migraine from whatever Midnight got up to. Why did he have to be cursed with dealing with troublesome women?

Some time after breakfast the class and it’s visitors were pretty well scattered around the lounge area. Uraraka had forgone returning to the window in favor of pacing around. Mina was tempted to resume her teasing of the floaty girl but knew that right now she was genuinely worried over Midoriya so it would have been in bad taste. “Ah this is boring. Let’s see if they’ve covered the raid yet.” She grabbed the remote and clicked the television on, quickly trying to find a news channel. “I wouldn’t bother Ashido. It’s been a few hours since that began. If our intel was right it’ll take some time for everything to be done.” Aizawa was hoping to temper his students expectations and was also secretly hoping that he wouldn’t wind up seeing something horrific from the raid failing. “Hey wait is that Kaminari?” Aizawa hated being right sometimes. The news report was indeed showing the electric hero-in-training. It was also showing him sporting some bad injuries, going by how much red was on the left side of his costume.

“Breaking news citizens. Following reports of a disturbance in the area our steadfast reporters went to investigate and to our shock we found something astonishing.” The camera was showing an industrial district that was for lack of a better word demolished. There was shattered masonry and flame all over. But the most concerning sight was that of the students and classmates of those who were watching, all in various states of injury. Some seemed to only be slightly bruised and were standing just fine. Others were more damaged but still clearly not in danger of death. There was only one concerning sight for all of them.

“Holy crap is that Midoriya?” The image of the boy in question showed that his arms and legs now looked like some kind of mixture of swiss cheese and peppered steak. It was rather fortunate they had already eaten as no one’s appetite was going to remain after seeing that. Of course such a sight wasn’t an easy one for some in the room for other reasons. “Is Papa on the TV right now?” And speaking of someone who would have a hard time with that image. “Change it, change it, change it!” Jiro prompted Mina to do as she said, which the pink girl did in an instant. “Whoops our mistake. Wasn’t him.” Fortunately for them Eri believed them, leading to an open sigh when she didn’t press further. But that was about the only good thing to happen right now.

Aizawa saw what became of his students and a mix of worry, rage, and grief soon filled his mind. He quickly barked out orders to everyone. “Mic, Midnight you’re in charge here. Mirio, Nejire you’re in charge if they have to leave.” With that sorted out Aizawa took off to get some answers out of the prinicipal, while internally debating the merits of turning said rodent’s carcass into a rug for the dorm room.

Everyone was immensely troubled by what they had just seen. That couldn’t have been right. The students of Class 1-A were the best of the best. They triumphed over anything that got in their way. How could this have happened? Everyone was snapped out of their shock by the response of one of their own, who was not handling what they had just seen well to put it politely.

Said individual was Uraraka who looked like her soul had just been torn out, going by how white she was looking. She wasn’t doing any better internally. Her sight was growing distant and a border of white light was consuming everything in her view. All sounds suddenly seemed drowned out by a high pitched ringing. It’s quite likely that she would have passed out already if she hadn’t fallen onto the couch sitting the second she saw Izuku. And it looked like she was about to lose consciousness. Fortunately something snapped her out of her shock.

“Mama?”

That one word cut through everything that Uraraka had been feeling and caused her to look at who had spoken. It was Eri. Her dear, precious daughter. Hers and Deku’s. Who they loved so dearly and loved them in return. Nothing would ever keep them from being there for her. Not even something as bad as this.

The round faced girl mustered as much of a smile as she could. “Hi sweetie.” “Mama are you okay?” The question caught Uraraka off guard, along with the look on Eri’s face that was a mix of worry and fear. After a moment of surprise Uraraka gained a sad looking smile and promptly scooped Eri up in a hug and set the young girl on her lap. It was a soft and gentle hug but one that nevertheless felt desperate.

“Mama?” “Just let Mama hold you for a little while alright sweetie?” ‘So I know that the world isn’t over.’ Eri said nothing, somehow knowing that something was wrong. She simply gave her Mama her own hug, thinking it might make things just a slight bit better.

The class looked on at the scene before them, taking in the heart wrenching sight and several barely holding back tears and the urge to charge forward and give the two comforting hugs. Momo placed a freshly created soft blanket around Uraraka’s soldiers, which had the benefit of covering Eri a bit as well. Mirio seemed to be the only with any ability to function without overwhelming melancholy.

“Ah Eri?” The girl didn’t look at him but he knew she was listening. “There’s something we need to tell you. It’s about your Papa.” What followed would be an explanation of an utter tragedy to a girl who was just too young to understand and would be overwhelmed trying to comprehend why such things happened in the world, especially to good people like her Papa.

There was one overriding thought among everyone present. ‘What can we do now?’

#My Hero Academia #It Took A Village #The Failed Raid

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dfroza · 4 years

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A wedding invitation

yet not all were open to respond. and not all those who did respond were allowed to stay.

and why? what is the “proper” attire for such an event?

it is the pure clothing of humility and grace, the grace of becoming known as a True daughter or a son of God who is Light and Love itself. and this is only seen clearly in the True illumination of the Son.

the single path (the narrow road) that leads the heart (the eternal spirit) to be “Home”

Today’s reading of the Scriptures is from the book of Matthew with chapter 22:

[Parable of the Wedding Feast]

As was his custom, Jesus continued to teach the people by using allegories. He illustrated the reality of heaven’s kingdom realm by saying, “There once was a king who arranged an extravagant wedding feast for his son. On the day the festivities were set to begin, he sent his servants to summon all the invited guests, but they chose not to come. So the king sent even more servants to inform the invited guests, saying, ‘Come, for the sumptuous feast is now ready! The oxen and fattened cattle have been killed and everything is prepared, so come! Come to the wedding feast for my son and his bride!’

“But the invited guests were not impressed. One was preoccupied with his business; another went off to his farming enterprise. And the rest seized the king’s messengers and shamefully mistreated them, and even killed them. This infuriated the king! So he sent his soldiers to execute those murderers and had their city burned to the ground.

“Then the king said to his servants, ‘The wedding feast is ready, yet those who had been invited to attend didn’t deserve the honor. Now I want you to go into the streets and alleyways and invite anyone and everyone you find to come and enjoy the wedding feast in honor of my son.’

“So the servants went out into the city streets and invited everyone to come to the wedding feast, good and bad alike, until the banquet hall was crammed with people! Now, when the king entered the banquet hall, he looked with glee over all his guests. But then he noticed a guest who was not wearing the wedding robe provided for him. So he said, ‘My friend, how is it that you’re here and you’re not wearing your wedding garment?’ But the man was speechless.

“Then the king turned to his servants and said, ‘Tie him up and throw him into the outer darkness, where there will be great sorrow, with weeping and grinding of teeth.’ For everyone is invited to enter in, but few respond in excellence.”

[The Pharisees Try to Entrap Jesus]

Then the Pharisees came together to make a plan to entrap Jesus with his own words. So they sent some of their disciples together with some staunch supporters of Herod. They said to Jesus, “Teacher, we know that you’re an honest man of integrity and you teach us the truth of God’s ways. We can clearly see that you’re not one who speaks only to win the people’s favor, because you speak the truth without regard to the consequences. So tell us, then, what you think. Is it proper for us Jews to pay taxes to Caesar or not?”

Jesus knew the malice that was hidden behind their cunning ploy and said, “Why are you testing me, you imposters who think you have all the answers? Show me one of the Roman coins.” So they brought him a silver coin used to pay the tax. “Now, tell me, whose head is on this coin and whose inscription is stamped on it?”

“Caesar’s,” they replied.

Jesus said, “Precisely, for the coin bears the image of the emperor Caesar. Well, then, you should pay the emperor what is due to the emperor. But because you bear the image of God, give back to God all that belongs to him.”

The imposters were baffled in the presence of all the people and were unable to trap Jesus with his words. So they left, stunned by Jesus’ words.

[Marriage and the Resurrection]

Some of the Sadducees, a religious group that denied there was a resurrection of the dead, came to ask Jesus this question: “Teacher, the law of Moses teaches that if a man dies before he has children, his brother should marry the widow and raise up children for his brother’s family line. Now, there was a family with seven brothers. The oldest got married but soon died, leaving his widow for his brother. The second brother married and also died, and the third also. This was repeated down to the seventh brother, when finally the woman also died. So here’s our dilemma: Which of the seven brothers will be the woman’s husband when she’s resurrected from the dead, since they all were once married to her?”

Jesus answered them, “You are deluded, because your hearts are not filled with the revelation of the Scriptures or the power of God. For after the resurrection, men and women will not marry, just like the angels of heaven don’t marry. Haven’t you read what God said: ‘I am the Living God, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob’? God is not the God of the dead, but of the living.”

When the crowds heard this they were dazed, stunned over such wisdom!

[The Greatest Commandment]

When the Pharisees heard that Jesus had silenced the Sadducees, they called a meeting to discuss how to trap Jesus. Then one of them, a religious scholar, posed this question to test him: “Teacher, which commandment in the law is the greatest?”

Jesus answered him, “‘Love the Lord your God with every passion of your heart, with all the energy of your being, and with every thought that is within you.’ This is the great and supreme commandment. And the second is like it in importance: ‘You must love your friend in the same way you love yourself.’ Contained within these commandments to love you will find all the meaning of the Law and the Prophets.”

[Jesus, Son of David—Lord of David]

While all the Pharisees were gathered together, Jesus took the opportunity to pose a question of his own: “What do you think about the Anointed One? Whose son is he?”

“The son of David,” they replied.

Then Jesus said to them, “How is it that David, inspired by the Holy Spirit, could call his son the Lord? For didn’t he say:

The Lord Jehovah said to my Lord,

‘Sit near me in the place of authority

until I subdue all your enemies under Your feet’?

“So how could David call his own son ‘the Lord Jehovah’?”

No one could come up with an answer. And from that day on none of the Pharisees had the courage to question Jesus any longer.

The Book of Matthew, Chapter 22 (The Passion Translation)

A set of posts to accompany Today’s reading by John Parsons:

There is no fear in God's compassionate love, and therefore over and over the Spirit of God says, al tira' - "don't be afraid..." When we are afraid, we are believing the lie there is something beyond God's control or reach, and therefore God is "not enough"... In times of testing you must remind yourself of what is real. God formed you in your mother's womb, breathed into you nishmat chayim, the breath of life, and numbers all your days... Every breath you take, every heartbeat in your chest is ordained from heaven, and indeed, there is not a moment of your life apart from God's sovereign and sustaining grace. So what, then, are you afraid of? Dying? Judgment in the world to come? Being left unloved, bereft of home, abandoned, consigned to outer darkness? King David said, "If I make my bed in Hell, behold, you are there" (Psalm 139:8). Look, the LORD God is not only present in your "happy moments," when you feel "put together" and respectable, but he is present in your desperate moments, in your hunger, your thirst, and in your secrets. May we never lose sight of God's love, especially in times of distress and trouble, since we trust that he is always working all things together for our ultimate good (Rom. 8:28).

The Name of the LORD (יהוה) means “Presence” and “Love” (Exod. 3:14; 34:6-7). Yeshua said, “I go to prepare a place for you,” which means that his presence and love are waiting for you in whatever lies ahead (Rom. 8:35-39). To worry is “practicing the absence” of God instead of practicing His Presence... Trust the word of the Holy Spirit: “For I know the plans I have for you, declares the LORD, plans for healing peace and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope (Jer. 29:11). The Word always speaks hope.

Take comfort that your Heavenly Father sees when the sparrow falls; he arrays the flower in its hidden valley; and he calls each star by name. More importantly, the Lord sees you and knows your struggle with fear. Come to him with your needy heart and trust him to deliver you from the burdens of your soul (Matt. 11:28). Shalom means being free from fear.

This is a word for the exiles of every age: Be not afraid - al-tira' – not of man, nor of war, nor of tribulation, nor even of death itself (Rom. 8:35-39). If God be for us, who can be against us? Indeed, Yeshua came to die to destroy the power of death "and to release all those who through fear of death were subject to lifelong slavery" (Heb. 2:14-15). The resurrection of the Messiah is the focal point of history - not the "dust of death." Death does not have the final word. Indeed, because Yeshua is alive, we also shall live (John 14:19). May your chesed, O LORD, be upon us, as we wait for You (Psalm 33:22). [Hebrew for Christians]

7.6.20 • Facebook

As I’ve discussed elsewhere on the site over the years, the climax of the revelation of the Torah at Sinai was not the giving of the Ten Commandments (עשרת הדיברות) to Israel but was instead the vision of the Altar of the sanctuary (מזבח המשכן)... However -- as our Torah portion this week (i.e., Pinchas) makes clear -- the central sacrifice upon this altar was the daily sacrifice (i.e., korban tamid: קרבן תמיד) of a defect-free male lamb with unleavened bread and wine. The LORD calls this "my offering" (קרבני) and "my bread" (לחמי) [Num. 28:1-8]. In other words, the service and ministry of the Mishkan (i.e., Tabernacle) constantly foretold the coming of the great Lamb of God (שה האלהים) who would be offered upon the altar of the cross to secure our eternal redemption (John 1:29; Heb. 9:11-12).

The sacrifice of the lamb represents “God’s food,” a pleasing aroma (ריח ניחחי), for it most satisfied the hunger of God's heart (Eph. 5:2). Indeed, Yeshua's offering upon the cross represents God's hunger for our atonement, our healing from the sickness of death, since it restored what was lost to Him through sin, namely, communion with his children. God could never be satisfied until He was able to let truth and love meet (Psalm 85:10). [Hebrew for Christians]

7.6.20 • Facebook

Sometimes we say that we "hunger for God," but it is vital to remember that it is God who first hungers for us. God desires our love and fellowship. He comes to seek fruit among the trees - but does He find any? He walks in the cool of the day, calling out to us, but are we attuned to hear His voice? Do we accept the invitation to be in His Presence? When God “knocks on the door of your heart” to commune with you, what “food” will you be serving? (Rev. 3:20). Every day we are given an opportunity to “feed God” through expressing faith, hope, and love. Ultimately it is our obedience to the truth is what “feeds” Him: “Behold, to obey is better than sacrifice, and to hearken than the fat of rams” (1 Sam. 15:22). [Hebrew for Christians]

7.6.20 • Facebook

Today’s paired chapter of the Testaments is Deuteronomy 9 where Moses goes over the History lessons of the people wandering about in the wilderness and preparing them to take possession of the land that would be Israel and the sacred ground of Jerusalem:

Moses: Listen to me, Israel! Today you’re going to cross the Jordan and enter the land you’ll take away from nations that are bigger and stronger than you. They live in huge cities that have defense walls as high as the sky. They’re big and tall, giants descended from the Anakim. You know all about them from the 12 spies I sent into the land—you’ve heard the saying, “Who can ever fight with the descendants of Anak?” So I want you to know today that it will be the Eternal your God who will go across the Jordan ahead of you. A blazing fire, He’ll destroy those nations. He’ll subdue them so you can destroy them quickly and take their place, as He has promised you will. When the Eternal your God has driven them out ahead of you, then don’t begin to believe He gave you this land because you’re so good and righteous! It’s just the opposite; He is giving you their land because those other nations are so bad! It’s not because you’ve conducted yourselves so well or because you have such pure hearts that you’re going to take the land; the Eternal your God is driving out those other nations ahead of you because they’re so wicked. He’s keeping His word, the promise He made to your ancestors, Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. I’ll say it again: the Eternal One your God isn’t giving you this good land because you’re so good. You’re stubborn, obstinate people. Remember—don’t forget—how you kept infuriating Him in the wilderness. From the day you came out of Egypt until the day you arrived here, you’ve been rebelling against Him.

Even at Horeb, you infuriated Him. The Eternal got so angry with you He was ready to destroy you! When I went up the mountain to receive the stone tablets—the tablets of the covenant He made with you—I stayed on the mountain for 40 days and 40 nights. I didn’t eat or drink anything all that time, preparing myself to receive these holy words. At the end of those 40 days and nights, the Eternal gave me those two stone tablets of the covenant. On them He’d engraved with His own finger everything He told you on the day you gathered at the mountain, when He spoke to you from inside the fire. The Eternal told me, “Get up, and go back down the mountain as fast as you can! While you’ve been up here surrounded by My holiness, the people you led out of Egypt have become corrupt! How quickly they’ve left the path I commanded them to stay on. They’ve melted gold and poured it into a mold and made themselves an idol! I’ve seen how stubborn and obstinate these people are. Don’t try to stop Me—I’m going to destroy them! I’ll wipe out every last trace of them under the sky, and I’ll make a bigger and stronger nation out of just you.”

The mountain was still blazing with fire as I hurried back down it, carrying the two covenant tablets in my hands. I saw with my own eyes how you had sinned against the Eternal, your True God: you’d cast an idol in the shape of a young bull!

Moses: How quickly you left the path the Eternal commanded you to stay on. Right before your eyes I took the two tablets, hurled them onto the ground, and smashed them to pieces. I went back up the mountain, and for another 40 days and nights I prostrated myself before Him, lying face down on the ground in grief and petition, not eating or drinking anything as before. You had sinned so seriously—you did what the Eternal had just told you was wrong, and this made Him furious! I was afraid He was so violently angry with you that He’d destroy you, as He said He would. But one more time, the Eternal One listened to me, and He spared you. I had to pray particularly for Aaron because the Eternal was furious with him for making the idol—He would have killed my brother! I took the calf idol you made, that embodiment of your sin, and I burned it up. Then I crushed what was left, ground it into tiny pieces until it was as fine as dust, and threw the dust into the riverbed that rushes down the mountain.

You and your parents were always making the Eternal furious! At Taberah, you whined and complained; at Massah, you were sure the Lord was going to let you die of thirst; at Kibroth-hattaavah, you said you were sick of the food He provided! At Kadesh-barnea, when you finally reached the promised land, the Eternal sent you in: “Go and take possession of the land—I’ve given it to you!” But you defied this direct order from the Eternal, your True God! You didn’t trust Him, and you didn’t listen to His voice. You’ve been rebelling against Him from the day I met you!

That’s why, at Horeb, I lay face down before the Eternal for 40 days and nights, praying for you: He said He was going to destroy you, and I knew He had every reason to! I prayed to Him, “Eternal Lord, please don’t destroy Your people! They’re Your own possession: You liberated them from another master—You brought them out of Egypt with overwhelming power. Remember Your loyal servants, Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob; please forget about how stubborn and wicked and sinful these people are. Don’t let their actions spoil Your greater plan. Otherwise, the people back in the land You brought us out of will be saying, “The Eternal couldn’t really bring them into that land He promised them. He actually hated those people, and He brought them out into the desert in order to kill them off.” Remember they are Your people, Your own possession, the ones You brought out of Egypt Yourself with such overwhelming power!

The Book of Deuteronomy, Chapter 9 (The Voice)

my personal reading of the Scriptures for Tuesday, july 7 of 2020 with a paired chapter from each Testament along with Today’s Psalms and Proverbs

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