#but its ok he got better but only thousands of years later in an new body and hes trying to figure out what happened to him and his mom | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dujour13 · 1 year

Note

Ok, for the Pathfinder Winter prompts, of course I'm gonna ask Ritual of Stardust for Siavash and Woljif! If someone else has already asked that, how about Kissing in the Snow?

@silversiren1101 I grouped these together (great minds you two) and threw in the kiss in the snow. Thanks for the asks 🥰

Pathfinder Winter Solstice prompts here

*TW: minor references to drugs and alcohol

The Abyss had robbed them of six precious months they could never make up for. The only silver lining Siavash could think of was that one of those months was Lamashan, so this year he didn’t have to organize Iomedae’s Ascension festival. He had a better idea.

“It organizes itself,” he told Anevia excitedly. “You just whisper the word on the wind, and people show up.”

“What about food? Latrines? Sec—”

“They bring everything they need, and always a little extra to share. They clean up after themselves, and anyway it’s a battlefield. There’s no money allowed—it’s all gifts and barter, so no need for tariffs or regulations.”

“Security, was what I was going to say.”

“Yes, all right, I’ll concede that part.”

“Which will be my job.”

“I’ll help,” he shrugged. “Come on, Nev, it’ll be fine.”

She heaved a sigh. “Morale could use a boost, I suppose.”

“Well, that’s for sure.”

Thus it was that a few short weeks later the biggest Ritual of Stardust ever not organized began to gather on the flat, blasted plains south of Drezen. Festive carriages rolled in pulled by ponies in jingling, feathered harnesses. Colorful tents were erected full of arts and crafts and music. Mobs of people in all sorts of bizarre costumes spontaneously formed to dance, cook soup, dig privies or build whimsical, towering, temporary statues out of scrap wood and stone.

The Worldwound in the middle of Kuthona was swept with a dry, stinging cold wind so brittle and insidious Siavash feared people would turn away, but Desna’s gentle hand diverted the wind and tucked insulating clouds like a down comforter over the sky, and the day before the bonfires it began to snow like a soft dream.

On the longest night of the year, thousands had come to gather around the bonfire and sing songs to the Great Dreamer, to join hands in the dark, full of hope at the turning point when day would outstrip night again at last, just as the Fifth Crusade too seemed to be rising from its ashes: the Return from the Abyss. But most all, they came to party.

With his new wings, Siavash blended into the crowd of costumed revelers effortlessly. He mingled with the Free and not-so-free Crusaders, marginally succeeded in getting Lann to relax, sang a few songs, and spent some time in Daeran’s extravagant tent until things got a little too wild even for his taste, and then went in search of Woljif.

He was in the main tent by a mulled wine stand, deep in conversation with another tiefling, a hand on one hip and the other thrown over the top of the wine vendor’s awning in an unselfconscious, casually graceful pose, tail darting back and forth. A cunning smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. There was a streak of glitter on his right horn he was probably unaware of. Looks like Aivu snuck up on him.

Siavash watched him and felt that little thrill—like he had caught a falling star or a rare butterfly, something elusive and unique: this man so different from himself, so full of surprises, so clever and charming and hopeful and brave.

He couldn’t wait another minute. He dove in and seized him around the waist. “Sorry, it’s urgent,” he apologized over his shoulder to the other tiefling as he threw a fur-lined cloak over his shoulders and guided him out of the tent.

“Chief I was in the middle of—”

“I said it was urgent.” He took Woljif’s hand and they tramped through the snow to the huge central bonfire, now burnt low, and stood for a while watching the sparks rise and the snowflakes fall against a starless velvet backdrop of night.

“So… urgent, huh?” Woljif asked presently.

Siavash produced a pouch from his pocket and poured a small handful of sparkling red dust into his palm.

“That’s not some a’ Daeran’s stash is it? I wouldn’t if I were you, chief.”

“No. It’s a star ruby, ground to dust.”

“Wait, what? A ruby? How much is that—”

“Don’t worry.” Siavash put an arm around his shoulders and held up the handful of twinkling ruby shards. “Make a wish.”

Woljif shook his head but couldn’t repress a smile. When the chief was like this, you just had to roll with it. “If you say so.”

They looked at each other in silence for a long moment in the firelight, blinking away snowflakes.

Then Siavash tossed the dust into the wind and it shimmered against the night sky like a million crimson stars.

“I have something for you.” Siavash was smiling like an excited child. “But you’ll have to pick my pocket to get it.”

“You’re such a flake. Fine.” Woljif’s hand darted into his pocket, and came out… with the Moon of the Abyss. Just like that day he’d hidden it in that Andoren sap’s pocket so the Thieflings wouldn’t find it, only this time, he was the one in for a surprise.

The clouded demonic crystal he had destroyed in the Abyss had been replaced with a clear, bright sapphire like a spring morning.

“Chief—how much did this cost? Are you crazy?”

“You’re welcome.”

“Sorry—Siavash, I—” Woljif had to grab him and bury his face in his neck for fear someone would think the snowflakes melting on his cheeks were something else. Siavash felt him trembling with emotion.

A clear blue sky—freedom, instead of domination. An azata’s legacy, instead of a demon’s.

When he felt he could trust his voice again he pulled back and clasped the familiar silver necklace around his neck. His eyes were shining. “Thanks.”

Siavash brushed snowflakes from his cheek and drew his mouth in. Their lips touched tenderly.

“Hey hey, you two! Come on in out of the snow, you’re gonna catch your death,” Seelah beckoned loudly, her color high, beer sloshing from the mug in her hand.

In embarrassment they broke off.

She threw her arms around both of them, completely spilling her beer this time. “Now, this is my first Starlight—”

“Stardust.”

“—Stardust, and I’m sold. Is there such a thing as a paladin of Desna? Oh shit, don’t tell anybody I said that.”

“Don’t worry, I think Iomedae slammed the door when she left.”

Seelah grinned at the two of them. “So, heh, you two gonna make this official or what?”

There was an awkward silence.

“Contracts, priests, vows,” said Siavash. “Way to kill romance, Seelah.”

A little too quickly, Woljif agreed. “Yeah, who needs that stuff. I’ve had my share a’ the literal ball and chain. I’m done with that. Imagine, we’d be at each other’s throats about doin’ the dishes and takin’ out the trash, and…”

As he chattered, Siavash and Seelah exchanged a glance.

“Romance, yeah,” Seelah said, barely repressing a laugh. “Well, you can still throw a party, right?”

“Seelah, I think you spilled your beer.”

“Oh yeah. Better go fill up, eh?”

“Yeah,” Siavash said. “We’ll be right behind you.”

They watched as she half-stumbled off through the snow.

“Boy, Seelah sure does put her foot in it sometimes, I swear,” Woljif was complaining. “Remember that one time at the Half Measure with Elan, and she was layin’ into me about deserting and Jannah was sittin’ right there—”

“Woljif, stop talking for a second.”

“What?”

Siavash took a deep breath. It was not something he had ever contemplated. Simply not in his nature. But the look that had passed across Woljif’s face—halfway between hope and panic, like a puppy about to catch the cat he’d been chasing—and he knew he had to do it.

He was afraid his voice would sound strangled but he forced it out: “Do you, uh, do you want to?”

Woljif turned the deepest shade of crimson he had ever seen him. He swallowed hard, looking past Siavash, eyes going glazed for a moment.

“Nah. Nah, I’m good. You?”

“You know you have my heart.”

Woljif grinned. “Contracts are for suckers.”

“I know, right? And devils.”

“Thanks for askin’.”

“I’m so glad you said no,” Siavash laughed. “I love you so much.”

Woljif threw his arms around him and held him tight. It was weird, almost like that wish stuff actually worked.

#pathfinder: wrath of the righteous #woljif jefto #siavash #siavash x woljif #thanks for the asks!!#turbulentpumpkin43 #silversiren1101 #fanfic

38 notes · View notes

junko-and-riri-domain · 3 years

Text

the right direction | pjs

final chapter of tatts & cupcakes my loves !!

Days turned to weeks which turned to months and ultimately a few years went by. In the past few years you officially became Jay’s girlfriend, Ni-ki learned that he had two dads, and Sunoo and Jungwon were more than happy to call you their mom. But despite this, there was always a lingering worry in the back of your head. What if one day, Jay decided that the trouble of loving you and Ni-ki was no longer worth it to him? What if Sunoo and Jungwon no longer wanted you as their mom or Ni-ki as their younger brother? But today those worries would be put to rest forever. As you looked at yourself in the mirror wearing the dress you had chosen for yourself while holding a bouquet of flowers, the sound of your name being called causes you to turn around to see Heeseung and Jake walking up to you with a grin on their faces.

“Jay’s gonna be a wreck when he sees you,” Heeseung said.

“Ten bucks says he’ll cry,” Jake adds in, nudging the older with his elbow. You can’t help but roll your eyes at the two and ask,

“Is everyone here already?”

“Yeah, they’re all sitting down. Sunghoon’s trying to calm Jay down though, I’ve never seen him this nervous before,” Jake replies. Dressed in their suits, Sunoo and Jungwon run up to you. While planning your wedding, you and Jay decided that Sunoo and Jungwon would walk you down the aisle while Ni-ki stood next to Jay. After Heeseung and Jake jokingly told you that there was still a way out if you wanted to leave, you stood behind the door with Sunoo and Jungwon holding your hand. When the doors opened and you took your first step, you the wedding march played. Despite all the people watching you, the nervousness was washed away and replaced with excitement. The only thing you could focus on was the sight of Jay and the feel of the two hands holding yours. You see Heeseung handing Jake what you can only assume to be a $10 bill, causing you to have to hold back a slight laugh. Step by step, you walked with Sunoo and Jungwon until you finally stood in front of the man who would be your husband. Sunoo and Jungwon head to your side while you see Ni-ki with the biggest smile on his face. You wipe away Jay’s tears, something that he’s done for you more times than you can count but today, the roles were switched.

“I love you.” You had said it in hopes of calming him down but it only seemed to have the opposite effect as he cried even harder. You felt lightheaded, palms sweaty, and the butterflies in your stomach felt as if they were doing cartwheels. Finally,

“You may now kiss the bride.” Not even a full second later you felt Jay pull you close and his lips on yours. He deepened the kiss slightly, but still mindful of the people in the audience watching you both. Jay’s arms settled around your waist while pressing a kiss to the top of your head,

“Thank you for giving us a chance,” you hear him whisper.

While you and Jay were unpacking boxes into the new house the five of you decided on, Sunoo, Jungwon, and Ni-ki were in the living room. The house had more than enough rooms for the boys to have their own but they chose to share one. In the meantime, the other rooms were turned into guest rooms. While watching them chatting and playing amongst each other, Jay’s presence makes itself known to your body with the feel of him behind you and his embrace surrounding you,

“We’re home,” you say as you hold Jay’s hands. You feel him playing with the wedding ring on your left hand and despite not directly looking at him, you just know that he’s smiling. While resting his head on your shoulder,

“Anywhere is home with you and our boys.” You turn around to face him,

“Y’know… our boys have been talking about wanting a cat lately.” Cringe washes over Jay’s face at the thought of a cat in the house,

“I’m allergic to cats.”

“What about a dog instead?” you ask, voice sounding more excited than you meant it to. Jay raises his eyebrow in suspicion,

“Is this something they want or something you want?”

“I’d like to think that this is a family necessity.”

“Dogs are just agents of capitalism,” he replies with a roll of his eyes.

“At least think about it first before saying no.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll think about it.”

Jay’s “YAHHHH” in the morning (which the entire neighborhood probably heard) wakes you up and gets you out of bed. Still sleepy, you drag a blanket with you. When you walk to the living room, you’re met with the sight of Ni-ki clinging onto Jay’s leg, Sunoo watching everything while munching on some bread you baked just last night, and Jungwon carrying Maeumi, your recently adopted dog in his arms.

“Jungwon-ah, give me the dog,” Jay says sternly and gritting his teeth. When Jungwon sees you, he immediately runs behind you but on his face, you can see a mischievous smirk. Patting Jungwon’s head and looking at Jay,

“Babe, what happened?”

“The little agent of capitalism chewed on the cables in my office!” You can’t help but laugh, while now petting Maeumi’s head,

“It’s kinda your fault for leaving the door open, isn’t it?” Jay sighs, most likely thinking of ways to find inner peace,

“D-don’t tell me you’re taking the dog’s side right now?”

“Of course I am.”

“You really love the dog more than me?” With a teasing smile,

“Of course I do.”

“I never should’ve agreed to adopting the dog if it was just gonna become number one in your heart,” he muttered.

“Our boys and Maeumi are number one to me, you’re second,” you corrected.

Following the next few weeks, you noticed that Maeumi was closer and clinger to you than normal. Maeumi would settle by your stomach when you sat on the couch or lay on your lap and you couldn’t help but wonder why. But then, it hit you.

You had been slightly moodier.

You felt a little queasy in the mornings.

And you were late.

When you realized what the possibility was, you headed to the bathroom. The morning of the day K came back into your and Ni-ki’s life, you were sick and Jay took care of you. He bought a ton of medicine and somehow, a pregnancy test got added into the mix. You weren’t sure why, but you had kept it after all this time. While waiting for the results of the test, thousands of thoughts were running through your mind as nervousness coursed through your veins. Were you and Jay even ready for a baby? Well... you had three kids already but a newborn? Having another child was a conversation that hadn’t yet come up after getting married, moving into the new house, and adopting Maeumi. After all, Jay was running his company while you were running the bakery. But when the test was finally ready and the two lines set in tears of happiness began to pour from your eyes. That night when Jay came home and you were all eating dinner you wanted to tell them right then and there but decided that it’d be better to tell them after getting confirmation from the doctor. Which was exactly what you did the next day.

“Congratulations!” the doctor said to you as she showed you the screen of the ultrasound. She printed out a couple of pictures for you to keep and you bought some decorations to surprise Jay tonight. After closing the bakery early and picking up the boys from school,

“When we get home, do you guys wanna help Eomma decorate the living room?” you asked after heading into the house.

“Is today a special day?” Jungwon asked, eyes wide and curiously looking up at you. You nodded and took out the picture to show them,

“You guys are going to have a little brother or sister in a few months.”

“Really? I won’t be the maknae anymore?” Ni-ki asked, eyes full of hope.

“Yup, you’ll be an oppa or a hyung now!”

“Wahh, can I eat tteokbeokki with our new dongsaeng?” came from Sunoo.

“When they get older, of course you can! Now, let’s get to decorating so we can surprise Appa, ok?” You were met with a chorus of excited “yes, Eomma!” and with that, decorating and getting ready to surprise Jay when he got home began.

The house was dark when Jay got home, causing him to wonder where you and the boys were.

“Love?” he called out.

No answer.

“Sunoo-ah?”

Nothing.

“Jungwon-ah?”

Nada.

“Ni-ki-ah?”

He swore he could’ve heard crickets chirping. Desperate for any answer,

“Yah! Agent of capitalism, where are you?” That garnered an answer as the light tapping of Maeumi’s feet on the floor met his ears and Maeumi was now in front of him. He picked up Maeumi and walked further into the house. Turning on the light in the living room and suddenly being met with,

“SURPRISE!”

“YAH, YOU SCARED ME!” he yelled as he stumbled back, and fell onto the floor. The boys instantly piled themselves on top of Jay in excitement but he looked at you with slight fear in his eyes,

“It’s not our anniversary, is it? Did I forget?” he asked. You shook your head,

“No, you didn’t forget anything. But we have a surprise for you.”

“And that is?” You handed Jay a small box in which you put a “dad of five kids” mug (Maeumi included even if Jay didn’t want to admit it), a picture of the ultrasound, and your pregnancy test. Jay looked at the cup in confusion but when he looked at the other contents of the box, it finally registered in his head. He held the ultrasound by its corner as if he were scared it’d turn to dust or get wrinkled.

“We’re having a baby?” His eyes were shining when he looked at you, you were unsure if it was because of the tears forming in his eyes or the happiness, maybe it was both.

“Mhm, we’re having a baby.”

“Wait isn’t this the test that I bought like, years ago?”

“I told you it’d come in handy one day.” All of a sudden, Jay was hugging you and practically sobbing in your shoulder,

“I love you. So, so, so much. I don’t think words can do my feelings justice. I just, I love you.” Returning Jay’s hug while rubbing his back,

“What do you want it to be?” you asked curiously. In Jay’s head flashed to the daydreams of a little girl running around a house, that little girl being half-you, half-him. But in this moment, he didn’t care if it was a girl, a boy, or whatever it’d choose to identify as in the future.

“Healthy, as long as it’s healthy I couldn’t care less.” You smiled at Jay’s response, hugging him tighter. You knew that being with Jay, trusting him, loving him, it truly was the right direction.

↬ final tatts & cupcakes a/n:

this is the end of tatts & cupcakes and wow has it been a rollercoaster !! i don’t know how to feel about this series ending since it was by first baby (is it weird to say that? idk but anyways) i'll be honest with yall, this series was a product of my procrastination... it was around 1 am and i just didn’t want to do any of my work so i just thought to myself, “let’s write a fic with jay as a single dad” because why not ?? initially, it was going to be a oneshot but then i realized writing it as a oneshot wasn’t the best option for me because one, i needed to get my work done at some point lmao and two, it’d just be way too long so i ended up writing the first chapter, read it over a bit, posted it, and tatts & cupcakes was born !! i didn’t think that the series would get this far with the storyline and there were a few times when i thought about discontinuing it due to things like school, thinking it wasn’t interesting enough, other responsibilities, etc., but then i started getting notifs related to the series and writing became the better parts of my weeks so thank you everyone !! for those who have read until this part and decided to give my writing a chance and for all the love that this series has received, thank you so much !! i hope that it’s been written well enough to be a series actually worth spending time on to read 🥺

even though this series is ending, i do have some happy news !! i’ve started a new one called cameras & caffeine the pairing for this series is cafe owner!jake x ceo!reader cameras & caffeine is similar to tatts & cupcakes in how reader is also a single mother there so if you’re interested check it out here :)

once again, thank you so so much for taking the time out of your day to read tatts & cupcakes and i hope you’ve enjoyed !!

~ riri 💞

unable to tag: @smileyjimvn | @tubaotter | @babychangmin | @snghnluvr

❦ written by riri ( @enhykkul ) | main blog masterlist | blog navi

347 notes · View notes

lokiondisneyplus · 3 years

Text

Loki director Kate Herron’s heart was beating fast. She’d already had some surreal experiences during her short time in the Marvel Cinematic Universe, so a simple phone call shouldn’t make her nervous. But on the other end of the line was Owen Wilson, an actor and writer she admired and hoped would join her on a time-jumping journey through the MCU.

“It was the most detailed pitch I’ve ever done, to an actor, ever. I pretty much spoke through the entire first episode with him,” Herron recalls of wooing Wilson, who wasn’t too familiar with Marvel before being cast as Mobius, an agent for the mysterious Time Variance Authority central to the series.

Wilson instantly put Herron at ease with his laid-back charm as she walked the actor through 10 years of onscreen lore for Loki, the god of mischief played by Tom Hiddleston. She answered his questions about Avengers: Endgame, about time travel, about how this version of Loki was not the one fans knew from films like Thor: Ragnarok, but rather one plucked from an alternate timeline from 2012’s The Avengers.

It was all part of a whirlwind few years for Herron, who not that long ago was temping at a fire extinguisher company and struggling to land directing work even though she’d already helmed a BBC project with Idris Elba. Then Herron finally achieved breakthrough success directing episodes of the Netflix hit Sex Education and soon was hounding her agents for a Marvel meeting.

When Herron finally landed one, the Loki superfan cleared her schedule and spent two weeks putting together a 60-page document, even though her agents tempered her expectations by noting it was just a meet-and-greet.

“I knew I’d be up against some really big directors, and I knew I wouldn’t be the most experienced in the room, so I [said], ‘OK. I’ll just be the most passionate,'” recalls Herron.

Just a few days after officially landing the job, Herron found herself on a five-hour walk through New York with Hiddleston discussing Loki and flying to D23 in Anaheim to be greeted by thousands of screaming fans alongside Loki head writer Michael Waldron.

Herron is now working long days finishing up Loki in Marvel’s production hub in Atlanta, where the British filmmaker has largely lived since getting the job in 2019. Over Zoom from her freezing Atlanta apartment (she still hasn’t figured out the quirks of the air conditioner), Herron dives into Loki ahead of its June 9 debut on Disney+.

What was your process of sitting down with Marvel for this?

I was just so overexcited. [My agents] were like, “Look, it’s just a casual conversation, they just want to get a sense of you,” and basically I was like, “OK, I’m just going to pitch them.” Because I thought, they might not meet me again. So I got as much information as I could, and they sent me a little bit about the show. And I just prepared a massive pitch for it. I canceled everything for two weeks. I made a 60-page document full of references, story ideas, music. I knew I’d be up against some really big directors, and I knew I wouldn’t be the most experienced in the room, so I [said], “OK. I’ll just be the most passionate.”

Was that first meeting in Burbank?

That was in England, in southeast London on Zoom. I had a few stages where I did that. Then after a few interviews with Kevin Wright and Stephen Broussard, two of the Marvel executives who got me ready for the big match, I went in to pitch to Kevin Feige, Victoria [Alonso], Lou [Louis D’Esposito], the whole team there. That was very surreal because they flew me to Burbank and I pitched at Marvel Studios. I didn’t have the job, but I found out they were interested and then I remember Kevin Feige called me, and when he was in London, we had coffee. He was like, “Look, we want you to direct it.” Oh my God. They flew me to D23 and that was crazy because I think I found out I got the job 48 hours before, and then I was onstage. The Lady and the Tramp dogs were in front of me and Michael [Waldron] on the red carpet. “What is going on?” (Laughs.) I met Tom that week as well, so it was a bit of a whirlwind kind of thing.

📷Herron, Waldron and Feige at D23 in 2019.

Where did you first meet Tom?

I had a two-stop trip. I flew first to New York to meet Tom. He was in Betrayal at the time, on Broadway, so we basically went on this amazing walk around New York. I’d never met him before. We just spoke about Loki and what was really important to us about the character and where we thought it would be fun to take him, as well. It was this intense, five-hour conversation with him basically. I met him and then flew straight from meeting him to D23. So it was a lot. (Laughs.)

When did you finally get the scripts? How did that change your thoughts on what you want to do?

They sent me the outline, so I knew the overall story. I also was pitching stuff. “Oh, we could do this with this character.” The pilot was really well written by Michael and I really liked what they were doing with the character and the story. Then it was building upon that and throwing in ideas for where he could go later in the show. It reminded me a bit of improv where you’re always building, always trying to push the story to the best place. So we were always adapting and shifting the story. Our lockdown, during COVID, was a chance for us to go back in. I was cutting what we’d done, so I was like, “OK, this is tonally what is really working for the story.” Then we went back into what we hadn’t filmed and started adapting that stuff to fit more where we were heading.

The Marvel movies have a writer on set to help tweak things. Was that the case with Loki?

Michael [Waldron] was with us at the start, and then he went on to Doctor Strange [in the Multiverse of Madness]. We had a really wonderful writer called Eric Martin from our writers room, and he was our production writer on set. It was between me, him and my creative producer Kevin Wright. We would kind of brainstorm and adapt. I’ve always loved talking to the cast. We had such a smart cast. Owen is a writer as well. If you have that amazing resource, why not talk to them? We were always adapting. Obviously paying respect to the story we wanted to tell from the start, but always trying to make it better.

📷Herron on the set of ‘Loki’ with Hiddleston and Wilson.

Kevin Feige has said Owen Wilson, like his character, is nonplussed by the MCU. Since Owen isn’t necessarily dazzled by Marvel, does that make him all the more perfect for this role?

He is playing a Loki expert, so at the beginning of production, Tom and I were talking. He devised this thing called Loki School. He did a big lecture to the cast and crew. I love the character. This is a decade of fans loving this character and where that character has been. It was talking everyone through that, but through Tom and his own experiences. Stunts that Tom liked or costumes. He ended up doing that same Loki school for Owen. Owen absolutely loved it. Owen has such a writer’s brain. I remember I had to pitch him down the phone. My heart rate [was up].

Was this the pitch to get him to get Owen on board?

Yeah. I love his work. “Oh my God, I’m going to talk to Owen Wilson.” He’s so laid back and nice, it immediately puts you at ease. It was the most detailed pitch I’ve ever done, to an actor, ever. I think I pretty much spoke through the entire first episode with him. You can tell he’s a writer, just by the way he attacks story. His questions about the world and the structure and the arc of the character. It was really fun to work with him.

Was it the most detailed pitch you’ve ever done because you really wanted Owen, or because you knew you needed to woo him a bit to get him to sign on?

It was the questions he asked, and the way he attacked story, in that sense. And also probably because he was newer to the Marvel world, he was like, “OK, how does this work?” I also pitched him Loki’s arc over the past 10 years, where that character has gone, but also explaining our Loki and what happened in Endgame and time travel. There’s a lot to unpack in that conversation.

Sometimes Marvel will give writers or directors a supercut of all the scenes of a specific character. Did you get one of those?

They didn’t actually give me a supercut, but I’m a big Loki nerd. I think his is one of the best [arcs] in the MCU. I really wanted to make sure we were paying respect to that. At the same time, something Tom spoke about a lot was you have to go back for a reason. Let’s be united on what that reason is and feel that it’s worth it.

The reason can’t be, “Well that’s what happened in Endgame,” so the question becomes, “What is the point of revisiting him at this era of his life?”

Yeah. He’s only had — I don’t want to get this wrong — I think 112 minutes of screen time in total if you cut all his scenes together. And he steals the show. We have six hours to really delve into this character and talk about him and go on this completely new story with him. For me, it was making sure that [we’re] paying respect to what has come before — I know as a fan if there is a character I really loved and I found out they are making a show about him, I obviously would be so excited and so happy. I felt lucky to have the responsibility, and I took it very seriously.

Those who have worked with Kevin Feige say he’s someone who can stress test an idea and push things in new directions. What have you found working with him?

Something I always found was we would sometimes pitch something, and it would be at a good place, but he’d always be like, “OK, that’s great, but push it further.” Sometimes I’d pitch stuff and be like, “This is too weird,” and he’d say, “No, go weirder.” He wants to tell the best story and I found it really helpful having his eye across everything and the fact that he does challenge everything. Tom as well, on set. He brings this amazing energy and this great A-game that causes everyone to rise to the occasion.

How do you know when you’ve got the perfect Hiddleston take? Is he asking you for one more, are you pushing him to do one more take?

By the end, it was almost telepathic. We would kind of know. We would look at each other. “We could go again,” or, “We’ve got it.” It’s different with every actor. There are some actors who will come in firing and they just want to go for it. But they don’t want to do a million takes. There are other actors I work with who are very meticulous and they want quite a few to warm up and get into it. It’s actor-dependent. The way me and Tom are similar is we are both very perfectionist. We are both very studious. (Laughs.) We definitely connected in that sense. He’s a very generous actor. I remember one day, we had quite a few of our actors coming in as day players. It was really important for him to be there for them, to read lines offscreen. He would have to be 50 places at once, because he is the lead actor. The most amazing thing about him was his generosity. Not just to the other actors, but also to the crew, to be filming in a time like COVID.

When you make an Avengers movie, you get a big board with every character that’s available, and whether the actor’s deals will allow them to appear or if that would need to be renegotiated. Loki is smaller, but was there any equivalent for you? Was everything on the table? Was only some stuff on the table? I imagine if Chris Hemsworth has his own new Thor movie coming up, he’s not going to be on the table, necessarily.

I felt like everything was on the table if it meant it was good for story, and Marvel would be like, “We’ll work it out.” Me and the writers, we never felt restrained in that sense. Honestly, it always comes back to story.

What is your relationship with your editor as you finish this up?

We have three editors, Paul Zucker, Emma McCleave and Calum Ross. My relationship with all three of them is very different. Emma and me are very close because she was also in Atlanta away from home. I got to know her very well. I love working with the editors because it’s a fresh pair of eyes. You get so deep into something when you are filming, it’s almost like writing it again when you are in the edit. Stuff does change. Even some episodes, we’ve reordered the structure. Or we moved scenes from one episode to another episode. I’ve always loved the editing process. The best thing is someone honest who can be like, “Hey, this doesn’t quite make sense to me,” or, “This isn’t working.”

What are you going to do on premiere day? Will you be on the internet at all to see the reaction?

I’m actually working. I’m still finishing the show. My last day is the day the second episode airs. I’m going to be working that day. Sadly, I’ll probably check in on the internet a little bit, but I’ll probably go to bed when I finish because I think I’ll do a 12- or 13-hour day or something. I can’t remember. I’m really excited for people to see it and just to bring it out in the world, really.

Everyone wants to know about spoilers, but what’s something you wish you were asked about more when it comes to Loki?

Kevin Feige said, “We make movies. We want to run it like a movie.” So unlike a lot of television shows that are showrunner-led, this was run like a six-hour film. As a director, you don’t often get to do that in a television-structure show. I really enjoyed it, having a hand in story and just how collaborative it was. Also, just beyond that, directing the equivalent of a six-hour Marvel movie was incredible for me. That’s something I found interesting about it. Making something the Marvel way.

In terms of the themes, I love gray areas. The show is really about what makes someone truly good or what makes someone truly bad, and are we either of those things? Loki is in that gray area. It’s exciting to be able to tell a story like that. As a director and a writer, you don’t necessarily understand why you are making these stories. Something I keep getting drawn back into is identity. Sex Education, we spoke a lot about identity and feeling like an outsider but actually finding your people. I feel the same with Loki. It’s a show about identity and self-acceptance and for me, that’s also what drew me in.

Gray is a good way to describe Loki. Your version of Loki just tried to take over the Earth not long ago.

Exactly. This isn’t the Loki we’ve seen. How do we take a character that people love, but from a lot earlier, and send him on a different path? That for me was interesting, getting to unpack that. Alongside that, getting to set up a whole new corner of the MCU with TVA. That to me was so exciting.

What about the Teletubbies? You referenced that recently and it made quite a splash. Are you going to leave people in suspense on that?

I referenced the Teletubbies once and people were like, “What, Teletubbies? What does this mean?” Maybe I should leave people in the air with it. One thing I would say is the show for me, stylistically — I wanted it to be a love letter to sci-fi because I love sci-fi. Brazil, Metropolis, Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, Alien. If people love sci-fi, they will definitely see the little nods we’ve got across the show. People will know what it was a reference for when they see the show. It was a visual reference to something in the show.

Interview has been edited for length and clarity. Loki debuts on Disney+ on June 9.

#Kate Herron #Loki #interview #loki series

101 notes · View notes

thefanficmonster · 3 years

Text

You Never Notice

Sykkuno x Reader (Female)

Warnings: None

Genre: Fluff

Summary: The center of someone’s world is never aware of their importance even when everyone else is in the know. People are hard to understand, no denying, but if we all spilled our truth like how Y/N admitted her feelings to Sykkuno, mutual understanding would be achieved a lot more easily. JK, she needed an eternity and maybe a thousand pushes. What’s important is the result though, right?

Requested by Anon. You are my first Sykkuno request and I wish I could thank you with a tag. Instead, I’m gonna thank you with a fic in which I put my all. Thank you for the request, hope the final product doesn’t let you down. 🥰

Here we go again. Sykkuno’s love life is brought up. This time it’s more frustrating cause I can’t shout how wrong he is about himself and the effect he has on the people around him. He has no room to speak, he hasn’t experienced what I have - one of your best friends living in your head rent-free because you’re just that whipped by them. That’s right kids, some of us never grow past the middle school crushes - they are a constant for some. That can be a good or a bad thing, it completely depends on how you view it.

Currently, him and Rae are addressing some dating rumors that started spreading about them earlier this week while Felix, Sean and I are kicking each other’s butts in Party Animals. We’re not all playing together, actually, we were all playing different games when we hopped into the call and just grouped together after playing solo got boring. Rae and Sykkuno are playing Among Us on a random server, her being the only person who’s streaming right now. She said she just wanted to clear up the dating rumors cause they were annoying to see popping up on her feed on every social media platform she’s active on.

“It’s ridiculous, really. People just look for online personalities to put in imaginary relationships. Are they that bored? I know quarantine is getting to everyone, but damn“ Rae says, laughing a bit to take the edge off her words but I know she’s bothered by this ordeal more than she’s letting on. I know how much it bothers her when people ship random youtubers and streamers together, even when she’s not involved.

And I agree. Ever since I started streaming I’ve been shipped with my friends left and right. First Corpse, then Dave, Joel...you name them. It gets kinda gross cause these people are legit like siblings to me. Unlike Rae, though, I don’t waste my breath trying to clear those ‘talks of the net’ up. I don’t know if it’s for better of for worse that I remain silent on the issue when I’m involved but am willing to stand up for my friends when they find themselves in a similar situation. Some people think the reason I don’t share my thoughts is because the rumors are true, but the hint is most often taken, resulting in the ship ending. Well, that ship ending, there’s always a new one popping up. As Rae said, it’s ridiculous.

“Why does everyone think I am ever dating anyone? I’ve already commented on this: no one would date me.“ Sykkuno says through a sigh-like laugh.

“Why are you so sure?“ I blurt out without as much as a second thought

My eyes widen just a bit, just a bit. I’m not too surprised with myself. I am slowly losing control of my raging emotions and I’m afraid of what I’ll turn into when all my restraints snap. A mess, that’s the most likely answer.

“Well....“ Sykkuno trails off, clearly more than a little nervous, “I don’t have a girlfriend right now, and I haven’t had one in a while...Nor has a girl shown any interest to be more than friends with me in what feels like forever.“

“I’m sure you just don’t notice the hints girls drop. We can be pretty subtle.“ I try to sound as nonchalant as possible while I’m still in my panicked animal mode. And by animal I mean a cub. A scared cub that is now showing confidence but will run and hide right afterwards. I silently thank the universe that I’m not streaming right now. I can feel the heat on my neck and cheeks which is pure embarrassment and would have been more than evident on-camera.

“Yeah Y/N’s right, Sykkuno. Girls can be very subtle, but they will always let you know if they like you, even through the smallest of gestures. You gotta keep your eyes open.“ Rae backs me up reassuringly.

“Guys never notice anything.“ I say, rolling my eyes. I feel the pressure lessen thanks to Rae’s involvement in the conversation.

“That’s not true.“ Sean protests, “We pay close attention, especially to girls we are attracted to.“

“Yeah!“ Sykkuno pipes in again, “I’m pretty sure I would notice if a girl was dropping signals that she likes me.“

Now that stings. That legit makes me wince and cringe as though his voice delivered an actual physical hit to my chest and stomach. It’s really unpleasant, painful even.

“You never notice.“ There’s something about this triple opportunity - proving him wrong that he’d catch onto a girl’s signals; proving him wrong that girls aren’t attracted to him; coming clean about the biggest emotional struggle I’ve experienced in recent years; - that snaps my last emotional restraints. I will totally regret this later, but after the regret comes the relief which is 100% worth it.

“What?“ He sounds very puzzled. I can just about imagine him frowning as he tries to wrap his brain around something even I can’t wrap mine around.

“You say you’d notice a girl’s hints of attraction. OK.“ I nonchalantly throw Felix off the submarine in Party Animals while I keep talking, “Would you notice if a girl purposely doesn’t kill you in Among Us when she’s impostor? Or would you notice that a girl always sends you links to videos she finds funny? Or that she always shares music and movie recommendations with you and you only?“

Dead silence ensues. I feel like they have all glitched, considering Sean didn’t even try to put up a fight when I lifted him and threw him in the ocean as I previously did with Felix’s avatar.

Maybe I was a tad too specific and made the whole situation hit a little too close to home for me.

Sykkuno and I have become really close friends and we chat and play games regularly. As I mentioned, I give him movie and music recommendations and I only recently started acknowledging the fact that I’ve never killed him in Among Us. Natural instinct I guess. In fact, I feel the need for vengeance when he’s killed. I refuse to even vote for him unless it’s absolutely necessary.

Now that I think about it, it’s not his fault he has no clue. I just don’t know how to properly drop hints.

“Um...I mean, I guess I would notice but I’d never think they are that type of hints.“ He finally replies.

On point there, dear. On damn point.

“What does it take for you to be convinced that a girl is into you?“ Who cares that a bunch of people are about to witness this outpour? It’ll make it more real, yes, but it will also help me believe that it happened so I don’t try to crawl back to the point where return is an option. No return now. You’ve already passed two thirds of the way. The last one will set you and your mind free.

“The only way I can be sure is if she tells me, really.“ He sounds so nervous and shy, like he’s trying to draw as little attention as possible.

He doesn’t have to worry. I’m about to pull all the attention on me.

“Well in that case....you leave me no other choice.“ My screen displays me as the winner of this round of Party Animals - an easy one considering my friends are glitched in real life. “I like you, Sykkuno. I like you a lot. And I know you will see it from every context except the one its meant to be in so I’ll be even more head-on - I’ve liked you, as more than a friend for quite some time now, but buddy, you can be sooo oblivious sometimes. Anyway...“ Here’s that regret I was talking about, it’s already creeping in. “Don’t feel the need to say it back. I don’t wanna hear it if you don’t mean it. And Rae,“ I can’t help but laugh at the thought, “Sorry for making your chat go crazy. Peace!“

And I disconnect from the Discord call.

“See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?“ I say out loud, staring at my desktop. “The cat’s out of the bag and you can move on now.“

I push myself to get some work done in order to get my mind off the mess I’ve created. I’m afraid of thinking about it, I know I’ll get too upset to do anything with the rest of my day if I do.

Suddenly, just as I’m about to open my email, my phone chimes. My brain doesn’t bother to stop my arm from automatically reaching out and checking the notification. A message.

From Sykkuno.

~ I knew you didn’t suggest me ‘My Best Friend’s Wedding’ for no reason

Me ~ So...?

~ So, I’m not the only oblivious one here, Y/N

Me ~ Wait WHAT?

~ ‘Nick And Norah’s Infinite Playlist’?

Me ~ Oooohhhh...I see

It takes him a few seconds to reply, the bubble with the three bouncing dots popping up and disappearing a few times now. I just now feel my heart banging against the inside of my ribcage, my pulse echoing in my ears.

He did seem a little too eager for me to watch that movie...

~ So, movie date?

I laugh, wholeheartedly and honestly. Genuine joy running through my veins.

Me ~ So it is.

The grin that is now decorating my features promises to stay there for the rest of the day. I bite my bottom lip at the thought that pops into my head.

Me ~ Phew, I can stop sparing you in Among Us from now on

He sends me three cry-laughing emojis in return, but I don’t need those. I can just imagine him laughing as he usually does with one hand covering his mouth. And here I thought my grin couldn’t grow wider.

Imagining him happy makes me smile. His happiness makes me happy. He makes me happy.

Even better...

I think the feeling’s mutual.

#sykkuno #sykkuno fanfic #sykkuno fanfiction #sykkuno x reader #sykkuno x y/n #x reader #reader #reader insert #x y/n #y/n #fanfic #fanfiction #among us #requests open #requests #fluff #love #crush #happy

447 notes · View notes

camthesolemnone · 3 years

Note

*crashes through door*

HI I HAVE ANOTHER ONE!!

Ok. Soulmate AU!! it's the one with the red string connecting you to your soul mate by your pinkie. Make up some rules for it if you need to!! I like to do the thing where the string gets tighter/looser as they move closer and farther from their s/o.

Ok, goodnight, I love you, bye!

*mwah*

*passes out just outside door*

Whoops accidentally made Zhanna older than Heavy in this one. Well I mean, maybe she is, but I've always written Mikhail as the oldest child in his family. Anyway, enjoy!

Wide eyes full of tears and flushed cheeks was what Mama came across upon turning to face who was tugging at her shawl. Little Zhanna, no more than five, was highly concerned about her baby brother.

"Mama! Misha’s finger is blue!"

Fearing that her son had developed gangrene from the cold brought on by the heavy storm outside, the distressed mother turned away from her soup pot and made haste towards the living room.

"Zhanna! Go get your father!" She instructed, entering the space, and the small girl nodded rapidly as she dashed off to where Papa was doing laundry.

Mama approached her child. The infant was situated in the center of the carpet, tiny hands shaking and eyes also leaking. Mikhail couldn't form words yet. He could only helplessly wail as he became light-headed; he had lost all feeling in his pinkie finger.

Mama kneeled down near him, and Zhanna and Papa appeared a second later.

"What is going on! Is moy syn alright?" The older man cried.

Mama took the boy’s hands in her own and examined them closely. As Zhanna had announced, his left pinkie was a light shade a blue. At the base of Mikhail’s finger was a small red string, fastened so tightly that it constricted the blood flow. The Russian mother breathed a sigh of relief.

“There is nothing to fear, he has simply acquired his soulstring,” Mama explained, standing up and giving her family a reassuring nod.

Papa let out his own held breath at the fortunate news, but Zhanna simply stared at her parents in confusion.

“Mama, what is a soulstring?”

Her father reached out to grasp her mother’s hand, and the two of them smiled down at their daughter.

“Young Zhanna, a soulstring is leetle red string around your pinkie that connects you to your soulmate: the person you are destined to fall in love with. Some people’s thread appears immediately after birth, but for others, it can take several years before their special partner is chosen,” Mama revealed.

Papa added on, motioning to Mikhail in the process.

“The tighter the string is, the farther you are away from your soulmate. Seeing as your brother’s is strong enough to cut off circulation, there is good chance his soulmate does not live in this country.”

Zhanna glanced over at the thread on Mikhail’s finger and then back to her parents, crossing her arms.

“What happens to the string when you find your ‘soulmate?’“ Zhanna inquired.

Papa crouched down to ruffle his daughter’s hair while Mama picked up Mikhail and left the room to resume dinner.

“Once you meet fated love, the string falls off for good,” he explained.

The small girl beamed and ran a hand through her black hair.

“Chudesno! I can’t wait to get my soulstring!”

Mikhail had given up on his chances of ever finding his love or feeling his finger again.

Forty seven years had passed since the red string initially appeared on his pinkie, and not once had he ever felt it loosen up. He felt hopeless and silently wondered most days if the higher beings had made a mistake. Maybe he truly wasn’t attached to anyone and they had tied the thread just to spite him. Instead, the Russian decided to spend his time taking care of his family.

His father had long since passed and Yana and Bronislava had run off with their soulmates, but at least Mikhail could still provide for his mother and Zhanna.

An ad in the newspaper intrigued him one morning: a mercenary job in America offering thousands. The giant immediately took to calling the company, known as Mann Co., and asked for a position. Not only would he be able to make enough money to provide a comfortable life for Mama and his sister, he was delighted at the opportunity to wield guns against evil men with no consequence. Moving away from the Russian blizzards would also prove to be a positive change.

Within two months of his interview, the new Heavy Weapons Specialist was landing down in New Mexico. A few days were spent getting used to his new surroundings and signing paperwork, but eventually, the bus came by his hotel to take him to the Reliable Excavation Demolition base.

While lounging in the tough leather seat, Heavy glanced at the surrounding seats and took notice of two other men sitting in the back. They both wore red and yellow bands on their arms, indicating they were some of Mikhail’s new teammates. Preferring not to spend a year with a group of people who disliked him, the Russian moved to the back of the bus to make a good first impression.

“Privet, I am Heavy Weapons Guy,” he began.

The two men looked up from their respective pieces of literature. The younger of the two lazily held and flipped a baseball magazine with one hand. The other man, taller and masked, was gripping a thick, plain-covered novel.

“Yo! I heard that our Heavy was supposed to be, well, you know, heavy, but damn you’re fa--OWW!” The Bostonian shouted, being met with a swift slap from the man sitting beside him.

“Please ignore Scout here. This rotten bunny doesn’t seem to have any manners.”

“Go to hell, you French bastard!” Scout shot back.

The insults continued and Heavy found himself silently slinking back into his seat. He had the strength to snap both of them like toothpicks if he so desired, but it was better not to end his career before it started.

Along the ride, the bus stopped several times to pick up the rest of the RED team. First came their pyromaniac and engineer, then the sniper and soldier. The demolition’s expert came by himself and the final stop was saved for a relatively young woman in a purple dress.

“Er, hello, everyone. I am Miss Pauling, your boss’s secretary. I’m scheduled to give you guys a tour around the base and to break down your jobs. Raise your hand if you have any questions and please, try to cooperate with one another,” the woman sighed.

Dell, the shortest man on the team with a yellow hardhat, raised his hand.

“Yes, Engineer?” Miss Pauling prompted.

“Isn’t there supposed to be one more fella here with us?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

Miss Pauling glanced toward the ceiling briefly as if she were really pondering the answer before turning to Engineer.

“Medic’s flight got delayed due to a massive snowstorm in Berlin. He should be here tomorrow at the earliest.”

It was impossible to notice the difference just by looking at it, but Mikhail nearly jerked forward when he felt it. Was he really going insane in his desperation? Had the string really just loosened? It most certainly had, he had felt the pressure ease up ever so slightly, but something in the back of his mind that told him it was just his imagination. The giant shook his head and groaned, barely able to pay attention to anything else Miss Pauling said.

His mind became a battlefield of longing versus absurdity. The thread had suffocated him during his prime. There was no possible explanation as to why his soulmate would be appearing now of all times. By forty seven, Mikhail was overweight, balding, had several scars from his time in Siberia, and was rated ugly by every woman he had attempted to romance. He couldn’t think of a single reason as to why his love would find him attractive now, and it deepened the eternal hole in his heart.

But Heavy held onto the faintest thread of hope. Maybe, just maybe, his suffering was about to come to an end. He would meet with the woman or man fate had binded him to, and he could finally be happy.

That night, Mikhail stared at his bedroom ceiling wide awake. Once their team’s doctor arrived in New Mexico, he would know for certain what destiny had in store for him.

Ludwig’s attempt at getting some shut eye on the flight failed. He couldn’t fall asleep even if he wanted to, for his pinkie was regaining its color. Somehow, this job as a battlefield medic that he had selected out of the blue was leading his soul to its missing half.

“It’s only a matter of time,” he murmured to himself, eyes more hopeful than the day he earned his doctorate’s degree.

Heavy awoke to the sound of loud yelling and banging on his door.

“Attention! You will be dressed and be stationed in the recreational room for role call in five minutes! That is an order!” Soldier commanded.

The softer, more compassionate voice of Miss Pauling sighed and spoke through the door.

“I’m sorry Heavy. I couldn’t say anything to convince him not to come with me to wake you guys up. Just settle down in the rec room in a few minutes, okay?”

Mikhail groaned, both from a lack of sleep and the sudden wake-up call. He complied, however, adorning his red, short sleeved shirt, his bulletproof vest, the bandolier for his minigun, pants, a belt, and a pair of sturdy combat boots.

When the heavy weapon’s specialist arrived in the rec room, it was absolute chaos. Spy had moved on from insulting Scout to bickering with Sniper, Demoman was already sloshing around a bottle of alcohol, Scout had stolen Engineer’s hardhat and was taunting him with it, and Soldier was shouting at a terrified looking Pyro.

“RED Team! Enough! It’s only the first day and you’re already at each other’s throats!” Miss Pauling stomped, placing her hands on her hips.

Some the the mercenaries, including Heavy, faced towards their higher-up while the others continued to do their own thing.

“Now look, your first battle will begin as soon as Medic arrives. I’m heading over to the airport to pick him up, so I advise you all check over your equipment,” her words more of a command than a suggestion.

Heavy’s eyes widened. He felt it again.

He decided in that moment that polishing Sascha could wait.

Before Miss Pauling could leave the room, the large man scurried over to her and placed a massive hand on her shoulder to grab her attention.

“Yes, Heavy? Do you need something?” She asked plainly.

Mikhail nodded, his cheeks slightly flushed.

“Da, I want to come to airport with you, if you do not mind. I promise not to cause any problems.”

Pauling raised an eyebrow.

“Pozhaluysta, Miss,” the Russian begged, rubbing his forever blue pinkie with his other hand.

Miss Pauling opened her mouth to speak, but her words died on her lips when she noticed the tiny gesture. Instead, she gave him a short nod of understanding and proceeded out of the building.

In the car, Heavy’s leg bounced. His breathing was deep, and his whole body seemed to sweat with fear and anticipation. With every inch the vehicle moved, he could feel the burden on his finger lighten up. This wasn’t just some illusion or dream, it was really happening. After forty seven years of waiting, he was about to meet the love of his life.

Miss Pauling took note of his anxiousness, but didn’t say anything during the trip, giving Mikhail plenty of time to ask himself a million questions. What would his lover look like? Would they be a man or a woman? Would they have a heart of gold, or a rotten core that sought to make the Russian miserable at every turn?

Finally, the airport was in sight. Mikhail could hardly withstand the separation between himself and his soulmate. He wanted, needed to find his other half. He needed to shower them with all of the affection he had been waiting so long to administer. He needed to hear their voice and inhale their scent and feel their body against his own.

Miss Pauling nearly tripped over her high heels trying to catch up with the eager Russian. She had seem some truly heartwarming instances of soulmates meeting over the years, but never before in her life had she seen someone so desperate to unite with their fated love.

He had to hold onto a railing as he stepped out of the plane to avoid passing out.

Ludwig had always experienced air-sickness while flying, but more than that, his hand was trembling. The string that had plagued his right hand for decades was loose, looser than it had ever been before. The doctor was overwhelmed; he wanted to throw up and cry tears of happiness at the same time. This was his moment, his soulmate was waiting for him.

As he stood near the loading gate, the thread loosened further, and it signaled that his soon-to-be lover was getting closer, closer.

Unable to withhold his excitement, Medic dashed across the airport. He got caught up in several crowds and passed right by the luggage pickup, but none of that mattered. He was following his heart’s call now; he let the slackening of his bindings guide his every step.

“Heavy! Please slow down!” Miss Pauling yelled, but the giant had blocked her out a long time ago.

There was only one voice he was willing to let in now. He pushed past a group of adults with the tiniest apology as he charged up the stairs. If he were anywhere else, he would have most likely been stared at and thrown out by security. In the chaos of the airport, everyone assumed he was simply running to reunite with a loved one.

An opening in the crowds.

Everything went silent.

The world slowed down.

Mikhail spotted him, his soulmate across the grand building. He was more handsome than he could have ever imagined, and although he didn’t know it yet, Ludwig also firmly believed that he had just encountered an angel.

The soulstring unraveled and landed on the ground.

All remaining distance between them was covered in a second. The force of the impact sent them to the ground, but neither of them cared. Arms wrapped around strong bodies, tears spilled out of adoring eyes, and lips whispered the pledges of love they had so desperately longed to hear.

At last, Mikhail and Ludwig were home.

#tf2 #heavymedic #fanfiction #soulmates

31 notes · View notes

sillyguyhotline · 3 years

Note

17. “How is any of this ok?” with Joe and Sara maybe?

dude im gonna be completely honest i havent written anything in like a month so i think the quality isnt gonna be great but here goes nothing

God, Sara missed the feeling of home.

Every semblance of familiarity and comfort she’d once found in the town she’d grown up in, the house she’d spent her childhood running through, now felt chillingly foreign.

Perhaps it was the heavy burden of knowledge weighing fresh upon her shoulders: ASUNARO’s corruption seemed now to peer slyly around every corner, no matter where she went. She still didn’t know how much of the town had rotted away under its grasp, how much of the town its poison had pervaded… but she was probably better off not knowing.

Whatever was left of Midori, that miserable mix of pulsing blood and electronic emotion, had been ground to bits inside that coffin… but Sara couldn’t ignore the creeping fear that his burning, ever-present gaze would appear out of nowhere and terrorize her again.

But he wouldn’t. The death game was over, and they’d promised they would never hurt her or any of her loved ones again.

Most of the loved ones she still encountered day-to-day, gruesomely blood splattered and sitting like corpses propped up hastily in a corner, would be safe no matter if ASUNARO was fresh on her tail or a thousand miles away. What a cruel price to pay for safety, to never be hurt again.

They still lived on if Sara closed her eyes tight enough, if she listened to the twisting words of the hallucinations and let them convince her she was monstrous. But the second she dared to open her eyes, she knew they’d be dead again. Life worked in terrible ways, and that was all there was to it.

Joe’s house had always been a second home to her, ever since the two of them became friends. Joe was the farthest cry from Sara in terms of social interactions- it had taken at least 3 months for Sara to trust Joe enough to invite him over, but Joe had insisted she hang out at his house the very same day they became friendly enough to exchange more than a sentence with each other.

There was a certain sort of comfort to the warmth of his house, the constant scent of cooking food pervading the air and the little trinkets scattered in every corner. No surface of his house went without decoration, in its silly little way. It was full of pictures, too, some carefully framed and some dangling from the wall by pushpins, but Sara got the sense that none of the photos went unloved. Most of them were occupied by an orange-haired man, often carrying a younger Joe (back when he was still sporting that atrocious crew cut). Sara always assumed it was his dad, but thought it would be impolite to ask… particularly when the weeks stretched on and Sara had yet to meet that mysterious orange-haired man.

Eventually, pictures of Sara began to join the collage on the wall- pictures taken as she butchered yet another pop song during karaoke, or when they went out to get food, or when she mistakenly sat down on a traffic cone during gym (after many protests from Sara, he took that one down). As silly as the pictures were, and as obvious as it was that Joe had waited for the most embarrassing moments to take them, it was sort of sweet in a way.

Joe’s mother was always kind to her, though there was a constant weariness in her eyes that Sara always felt a bit uneasy about questioning. Sometimes she’d let the two of them cook things in the kitchen, but more often than not they’d go up to Joe’s room and screw around in there, with video games or music or the 50 times Joe tried to persuade Sara to climb out the window and sit on the roof with him before she finally agreed.

As rare as it was for Sara to agree to sit on the roof, it was even rarer for Joe to agree to study with her, much to Sara’s chagrin. Joe had always walked a fine line between passing and failing, but Sara had to admit he walked it well. When she did manage to convince him to study, though (usually the day before final exams), they’d sit on the cushy couch in his living room and somehow manage to bother each other as much as possible while feigning concentration.

The couch hadn’t changed after several years- Sara could tell that much the minute she sat down on it and avoided the urge to break eye contact with Joe’s mother. It was still well-worn, a couch that likely should have been replaced at least a decade ago but had never really been disposed of. Loose threads were protruding from the cover, drawn out from years of visitors fidgeting with them.

Sara shifted uncomfortably in her seat, the slight motion making her sink deeper into the couch’s soft cushioning. She’d only spent one minute in the house and was already sweating, whether from the heat of the home or the thousand-yard stare of the woman sitting across from her.

Ryoko was there, too, sitting to Sara’s left and gazing listlessly at the well-trodden carpet beneath her feet. …Ryoko.

Sara cast a hesitant glance around the room, duly noting the photos covering the walls. Not a single one of hers had been taken down, but several more photos had appeared with Joe’s beaming face featuring prominently in them. Joe’s presence was always enough to fill a room even when he wasn’t speaking; it took a lot to fill in the gaps left by his absence.

God, she missed him.

The wind whistled against the window-screen; Sara had memorized the familiar creak of the wooden window frame being lifted up to welcome in the mild autumn air. Sara had always thought of autumn as a beginning- she loved summer as much as any other kid, but as the haze of the weather began to wind down she was quick to grow impatient and look forward to the school year, to being productive again. Joe had always disagreed with her.

“Fall is the literal death of fun,” he’d complained once, walking home with Sara after finishing the first week of school. “Couldn’t they have pushed back the first day of school by, like, another week? You think if we got enough people to sign a petition, they’d give us an extra week of summer?”

“Oh, come on, we both know even if you had an extra week of summer you’d just be complaining a week later,” Sara had teased back.

The death of fun. It certainly felt like that, Sara decided. She’d never feared the looming darkness of fall and winter quite so much before. But now, she supposed, there was no sunshine who’d weather it with her.

“Well… Sara?” Joe’s mother spoke up, voice hoarse with the sound of repressed tears in her throat. Sara recognized the sound all too well.

There was no resentment in the woman’s eyes when Sara made eye contact with her. No anger, no frustration, nor had there been any in her measured motions when she welcomed Sara into the home. It didn’t take any words for Sara to tell that there was no blame to be foisted upon her.

She was still Joe’s best friend.

“I’m sorry to have dragged you out here on such short notice.” The woman’s voice was weak. “I don’t know all the details of what happened, of course. Haven’t heard anything, aside from the little tidbits the police told me when I dropped by the station.”

Sara’s shoulders stiffened at the mention of the police, at the idea of them pleasantly answering her questions as though they weren’t just as complicit in that tragedy as ASUNARO had been.

“And…” the woman glanced down at her hands, toughened from a lifetime of working. “I know something terrible happened to you. The circles under your eyes are darker than midnight, I know it’s so selfish of me to be dragging you out here, but… I haven’t slept a wink for weeks. Been so worried about Joe, and about you too.”

She nodded in the direction of the black-haired girl who hadn’t spoken a word the entire time. “Ryoko’s been worried about the both of you, too. Your parents weren’t answering the door, so she went to me. I hope you’ll forgive the two of us for disturbing you, Sara, but… you have the answers the police won’t give us, don’t you?”

God, her gaze was piercing.

“...Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

It was taking everything in Sara’s power not to look at the vacant seat to her right. If Joe was there, he would have been laughing and lightening the mood, completing the circle that had been left so jarringly empty.

But they wouldn’t have been having this conversation if Joe was there.

Ms. Tazuna nodded slowly. “This means the world to me, Sara. Don’t forget that.”

Sara did her best to muster a smile. “Don’t worry. I won’t.”

The woman gave another nod, eyes defocusing as though even now, she wasn’t quite sure why she was there. “Alright. Alright. Well, then…” She cleared her throat uncomfortably. “Guess I should get right to the point, yeah? Is he… is… how is he…?”

So she still hadn’t quite let go of that little thread of hope, even after seeing Sara return home safe and alive with no best friend in tow. Who was Sara to judge? When hope was the only thing to cling to, it only made sense to cling to it like a lifeline.

Sara twisted her hands, the same old nervous habit she’d had for years, and wondered briefly if she’d picked it up from Ms. Tazuna. How terrible it was, to carry the news that nobody, much less any mother, ever wanted to hear.

“I… I’m sorry, Ms. Tazuna. He didn’t make it out alive.”

Sara hadn’t expected the hush that immediately fell over the room. She’d expected immediate tears, the grieving cry of a mother in pain. Instead, the room became muffled, still as a painting captured in time.

Slowly, Ryoko looked up from her bitten-down fingers, eyes rimmed red already. Ryoko had always been an emotional person, the only person Sara knew who could fluctuate from full-on sobs to cheerful giggles in less than a minute. Sara was so unused to the look that was now filling her eyes- cold, solid misery. As though there were no tears in her eyes left to cry, no more tragedies to bemoan. Just a deep and horrified comprehension of just how many things in her life had gone wrong.

And, slowly, Ms. Tazuna began to cry.

Tears had become so uncomfortable for Sara to bear witness to. Was it selfish of her to look away? It couldn’t be, not when every raw sob reminded her of the art student seeing her first (and certainly not last) death, of the broken sibling openly weeping over apologies gone unspoken, of the unknowing siblings screaming their throats out with pleas for death so the other could survive.

Especially not now. Not when every tear rang in her mind as a reminder of cold tubes piercing her best friend’s chest, of his corpse slumping and falling in a pool of blood, because oh god he wasn’t supposed to have lost so much blood, how was he supposed to live without it, of the clickclickclickclickclicking rising in volume while her attempts to save him grew feebler and feebler.

Her hands were bloodstained, no matter how many times she tried to scrub them clean. Those dreadful hands of hers had failed her, failed Joe, failed the women sobbing openly in front of her.

She swallowed back the apologies that always rose in her throat as Ms. Tazuna rushed to sniffle back her tears.

“I… god, I… he’s really gone?”

Sara couldn’t bear to look her in the eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

“Please… please tell me it was a peaceful death. He didn’t… suffer too much, did he?”

The resounding wave of clicks flooded her mind. “It was as peaceful as I could make it. I… he smiled at me, right before he died. I’d… very much like to think that means he was happy when he died.”

“What happened?” Ryoko’s voice came out rough, the first of it Sara had heard in weeks. “Joe told me, after our date, that he was going to walk you home, and then neither of you showed up at school the next day. And now… it’s been three weeks? And Joe… Joe’s dead? What the hell happened, Sara?”

“God,” Sara mumbled, mesmerizing herself with the twisting motions of her own hands. “I’m not sure if you’d even believe me if I told you. I don’t even know if I believe what happened myself.”

“I’d believe anything.” The sentence was firm. “I just want to know what happened.”

Sara nodded wearily. The familiar weight of her bright orange ponytail was notably missing- the day after she’d escaped, she’d demanded the hairdresser cut her hair short and crisp. She shuddered every time she thought about the ponytail brushing against her neck as she spent each argument screaming and protesting for her life. Even worse was the memory of how carefully Joe had styled her hair, forsaking his usual clumsiness to braid every strand with a remarkable tenderness. She didn’t want to remember any of it- even though, as the locks went cascading to the floor, she was reminded starkly of Keiji’s bleach-stained trauma response.

“For some reason, something to do with the mafia, we were kidnapped. And pulled into a death game. There were twenty of us, including me and Joe. I- I’m not going to get into all the specifics. It’s going to make me sick to my stomach if I do. But… they made us play this sadistic fucking game to narrow down the competition. Based on cards. Joe drew a bad card, and… they executed him.” Something in Sara’s throat tightened as she finished speaking, and she fell silent.

“Just like that?” His mother’s voice came out as a hoarse whisper. “How… how’d they kill him?”

“I’d rather not say.” There came the gushing sound of blood pulsing through the tubes. “He didn’t suffer too long” - she hoped - “but it was a gruesome way to die. I don’t want to think about it, please understand.”

It took a moment for his mother to register the words and nod, face still painted with horror.

“Why… how did the two of you even end up there in the first place?” Ryoko spoke up again. “You said something about the mafia? How the hell are you two connected with the mafia?”

“I don’t know how I am,” Sara responded immediately. “It must be something with my family. I couldn’t control any of this, I swear, but… Joe wasn’t meant to end up there at all.”

Ryoko paused. “He… he wasn’t meant to end up there?”

Sara swallowed back the lump in her throat. “The game… it was something that was being prepared for ages. There weren’t just a few ragtag kidnappers behind it, there was an entire organization. Even the police were involved. They ran AI tests, hundreds if not thousands of them, trying to calculate who’d be the most likely to win. And… when all the numbers came back, the person most likely to win… was me.”

She spread her arms wide, baring her sins and her cruelties to the world, and in that moment felt distinctly like the angel of death Keiji had branded her to be.

“They needed something to drag me down, I guess. Make the odds more balanced. So they dragged Joe into this fucking mess. I guess they thought that him being there would keep me steady enough to make everything fair.” A cold hand, dripping with tendrils of phantom blood, caressed her chin with a lethal grip. “...They were right.”

Ryoko’s gaze had gone cold again. “So Joe died just because you cared about him? What the fuck kind of death sentence is that?”

Sara shook her head numbly.

“Why did it have to be him?” The heartbreak in Ryoko’s voice was clearer than day. “So many people love you, Sara, why did it have to be him? Hell, I’m your best friend too, aren’t I? Why couldn’t it have been me? I’m a much worse person than Joe ever was, I deserved to be in his place way more. Couldn’t they have killed me instead?”

Sara winced at the growing desperation in her best friend’s voice, the raw crack she knew all too well. It should have been me, it should have been me, it should have been me. Sara could have almost fooled herself into seeing a crisp aquamarine when Ryoko’s hair flashed into the light.

“Ryoko… it could have been.”

The girl fell silent.

“They had files on you too. They knew how close we were, they knew how much you meant to me… but Joe was in the wrong place at the wrong time. And they fucking killed him for it.”

Oh, how she wished she could go back to that balmy early-autumn night, see the smile on Joe’s face and listen to his lighthearted laughter again. The desire to keep one’s friend safe had become a crime deserving of a death sentence.

Ryoko’s eyes remained locked to Sara’s, devoid of any dullness. In the look they exchanged was a deep, sinking understanding, one that had nauseated Sara to the core the first time the realization struck her.

It was by no crafty strategy that Joe had died instead of Ryoko, no favoritism biased against the kindest person either of them would ever know. It was a simple, terrible twist of fate. Ryoko could have taken his place had she done something as inconsequential as offering to walk Sara home instead.

But she hadn’t.

It took everything in Sara’s power to avoid wondering what would’ve changed if she had.

“How is any of this okay?” Ryoko broke the silence weakly. “They killed him- they could have killed me, too. He was seventeen. Seventeen. How did anybody let this happen? How did this happen, Sara?”

“I- I don’t know.” Ryoko’s wrath was simmering; even though Sara knew truly that she wasn’t the subject of the anger, she still felt scalded. “I miss him so much, Ryoko. I watched him die, and nothing in my power let me save him. I miss him, Ryoko, I miss him every waking minute of every day. We were supposed to escape together and get out safe and pretend this never happened, but…” the tears were beginning to well up again. She couldn’t bear the thought of breaking down in front of anyone, especially not over him.

“I’m going to go make some coffee,” his mother interrupted suddenly. She’d been noticeably quiet, but the still-fresh streaks of tears painted down her cheeks told the story she didn’t need to vocalize. “Some coffee, and some snacks. And we’ll keep talking from there, alright? Do you guys have your phones?”

The two girls nodded uneasily.

“Please… find any pictures you have of him. I want to make this wall as bright as possible.”

Without any other words, she hurried out of the room, and it fell to silence once more. Outside the window, the cool autumn breeze began to stir the leaves in the air, gusting forward to brush against Sara’s cheek just as the hallucination had done mere minutes ago.

And the Tazuna household began to feel more like home again.

#is this worth publishing to ao3 #idk #gonna put it in the tags im feelin risky tonight #yttd #joe tazuna #sara chidouin #ryoko hirose #joesara #i guess #i just tag anything joesara at this point even if it's not outright romantic #idc whether it's romantic or platonic honestly #theyre them #and thats all that matters

68 notes · View notes

not-your-regular-writer · 3 years

Text

I wrote this for Valentine's Day this year after I saw this card:

And it totally looked like something Crowley would give Aziraphale haha. So enjoy :)

*Phone rings in the bookshop. Aziraphale picks up. It's Crowley.*

- Hello, Angel. Have I, by any chance, dropped my black leather coat at your place?

- Well, hello, Crowley. Which one, you own too many of them.

- Oh, you know, the... The... Well... You're probably right. Can't even describe it without making it look like the one I'm wearing right now.

- So how do you know it's missing?

- I just know. There's a void in my wardrobe. That's how I know. But it's ok, it's a cheap one, maybe it's in this mess I call a home. And... How are things up there?

- Oh... Things are just fine. Today is a special day, many clients have come looking for books, and I'm very much pleased to notice that people find appeasing to give books as gifts in a special date like today's.

- (hesitant) Special... Date?

- (Azi starts blushing for some reason) Valentine's...

- Oh, sure. That date. Can't stand it. Too much love on the streets. No wonder I've got a headache since I woke up this morning. Everything is so... Pink. And happy. Urgh, makes my stomach...

- (Irritated) I see, Crowley, you hate valentines day. Nothing new about it. If you excuse me, there's a line of clients waiting to get their sweeties a book.

- Oh, fine, then. Talk to you later.

- That remains to be seen.

- Wha...

*Azi hangs up, feeling a bit ouraged. He breathes deeply before going back to the clients, his eyes go over a chair next to him. The black coat is there. He can not only see it, but smell it from that distance. He sighs, reaching discreetly to it. Aziraphale had hidden a little poem in its pocket. He thought it would be sweet if he picked it up today, and found it alone, of course, maybe it would put a smile on his devilish handsome face. He wanted to play Crowley a bit, but he was so unpleasant Aziraphale gave up on the entire joke. He shakes his head, too upset to finish the gesture. But the smell trailed behind him. He felt so much love around him, humans could be so charming sometimes, that he forgot about Crowley for a while. "

Later that day...

*Aziraphale is organizing the last pile of books on the counter. It was a fine day, pleasant, cheery, fun. He made a good sale, and earlier that day he had picked up some roses to give as a courtesy to the buyers. He had cut up lots of pink and red paper hearts to have customers write a message to their sweethearts as a surprise inside the books. He had even baked some chocolate muffins in the shape of hearts, but as a treat to himself, guessing he would probably be alone by the end of the day, as always, but in the company of a good cup of tea and a new prophecy book that had just arrived from the 15th century...*

*The doorbell rings. He raises his eyes. Crowley is coming in, taking his glasses off. *

- Crowley... (hesitant) What a... (forcing a smile) Delightful surprise.

- Hey, angel. (looking around, embarrassed) I thought you'd be finished for today, so I thought we could... Have dinner, or something. You know, nothing special, I mean, we always have dinner, it's...

- (smiling the tiniest of grins, out of sight, still with his back turned to Crowley, putting the books back on the shelf) Oh, yes, just dinner. I suppose the Ritz is going to be a bit... Busy for the night, so...

- Oh. You're right. Maybe it is not the best night to dine out...

- Indeed, my friend. (a bit optimistic) But we could arrange something...

- I don't know, angel. Now that you've mentioned it, it's true. It's gonna be noisy, and... Crowded... And... You're probably right. I didn't really think through it.

- Well, I... (he turns around, getting closer to Crowley, who is still at the door) I could cook for us. I mean, I do not mean to brag about it, but I happen to be a very good cook, thank you.

- Oh, I do know that. We could have some... Pasta?

- I'm thinking a very tasty ravioli, marinara sauce, maybe some corn bread and cheese, and... Oh, we'll see.

- I don't wanna impose...

- Of course not, my friend, it is no imposition.

- Then let me get us some red wine to go along with it.

- (Excited again) Fabulous. Then, I will get dinner done, meet you here in an hour?

- Sure, sure. I will... Get the wine.

*Crowley is out on the street, it's been one hell of a task to find fine red wine around, but he managed. When he was getting back to the bookshop, he saw something that sparkled an idea on his mind... *

*Back to the bookshop. Aziraphale is cooking, much amused and pleased with himself. He's distracted checking the taste of his marinara, and he can't see Crowley coming closer.*

- Aziraphale?

- (Jumping) Oh, for good heavens! You almost never use my name, what has got into you to do that?

- (smiling, a bit shy, unusual for him) I... I... (going to say something, but changing his mind) I found our wine. Your favorite of course. Had to put some effort into it, what one doesn't do for a nice bottle of Pinot Noir?

- Oh... (frowning, a bit confused) Definitely. Would you be so kind to put it on the table, along with the basket of bread?

- Yeah, yeah, no problem. (he picks up the wine and the basket, still fighting with words. He makes up his mind, dropping both, and picking something from his pocket, handing it abruptly to Aziraphale). Here. It's for you.

- (Startled, running his hand on the white apron he put on to cook, a little upset, maybe thinking the should have picked a more appropriate moment to give gifts) Ah... Well... (speechless, he picks up. It's a card, a blank white paper, written in black and white, very simple, very blasé. Aziraphale listens to his heart in his years, reading it intently).

- (Crowley starts talking fastly, trying to distract the mood, the sweetness of the occasion) I know it's valentine's day, but you know, humans send cards to one another, anyway, it just felt weird to just not say anything, so I got you this card. It's not a big deal. It doesn't really mean anything. There isn't even a heart on it. So basically it's a card. Saying hi. (Exhales, embarrassed) Oh, forget it...

*Aziraphale hugs him, tender and carefully, his eyes are glistening, he feels much happier than he can express, but he just hugs him, hoping the gesture speaks for itself. Crowley is still as a rock, eyes wide, hands on his pockets. He tries for a pat on the back, but he can't seem to make his hands work. He notices Aziraphale's face is very close to his, he can smell his skin, his white smooth hair, almost tempted to touch it... They part. Aziraphale is smiling beautifully, like only an angel could. Like only Aziraphale could, actually. *

- Thank you, dear.

*Crowley nods his head, not sure of what he could say, but Aziraphale doesn't seem to need it. He goes back to the stove, still holding the card close to his heart without even noticing. It makes Crowley smile, but he takes the bottle and the basket back to put them on the table. The smile never left his face.*

*They have a nice dinner, talking, joking, discussing, eating and drinking. It was a fine night, like many others they had together. But this one had something to it, a different glow, a lighter atmosphere. Crowley is ready to go back to his apartment, his heart is a little heavy, and he wonders why. It is an unusual feeling, but curiously, he can't remember feeling it towards anyone else but Aziraphale. They stand by the door, Aziraphale has that candid smile again after going in the back and getting Crowleys coat.*

- Here. I was just playing you.

- I knew it! Aren't you becoming a trickster yourself?

- (smiles wider) I've got my charms...

- (low voice) You do. (Louder) Ah, so... I should get going. It was a fine meal, I must say.

- Well, thank you. It was a fine company, as always, my friend.

- Well... Happy... Night. Of February... 14th.

- Ditto, in fact, it's almost February 15th.

- Sure... See you around.

- Definitely

- Bye, Angel.

- Bye, Crowley.

*Crowley walks towards his car, feeling a bit dizzy. It was probably all that love thing in the air. At this hour, a bit more than love should be in the air, in fact. He breathed the air, closing his eyes, holding the coat in his hands. Something fell, and he picked up. It was a pink piece of paper. It had Aziraphale handwriting in it. He frowned.*

- He wrote a poem. For... Me.

*He turns around, looking at the bookshop, but now it's all dark and empty. Aziraphale probably went to rest. He would not bother him, right? Maybe... Maybe he didn't even intended for him to find it, maybe he forgot. Yes, he must have forgotten, he didn't even mention... He looks down at the paper again. The feeling of being completely filled inside, but so empty at the same time. So light and so heavy. So close and so far. He gets into his car, putting the poem back in his pocket. He starts driving, too pleased to admit. But the smile is there, crossing his face with the light of a thousand stars.*

*A light shines in the upper window of the bookshop. Aziraphale watched the entire scene. He eats a muffin, too glad to mind, looking at the card over the table. It was the best Valentines Day he had in centuries. Things were getting better."

#neil gaiman #michael sheen #ineffable wives #aziraphale #crowley #david tennant #ineffable husbands #aziracrow

57 notes · View notes

lizzy-frizzle · 4 years

Text

I’m going to start this by saying, I have bias. Everyone does. I do not intend for this to come off as “the thing you like is bad”, but moreso “the corporation that controls the thing you like is manipulative”.

My background; I am a 26 year old trans mom, I have a history with addiction, particularly gambling, and spend most of my time playing video games. I have gone to college for about 3 years for my psychology degree, and while I do not have my degree, I have been studying psychology for roughly 12 years. This is to say, my views will reflect this background. Just because I present this information like I do, does not inherently mean I’m right, though it also doesn’t mean I’m wrong. Try to view things with a critical mind, and know that most topics have nuance.

Ok, so lootboxes, booster packs, gacha games, all of these are gambling. This is not really an argument. You are putting money into a service of sorts, and receiving a randomized result. Be that a fancy new gun, that same boring legendary you have 5 of, or that final hero you’ve been trying to collect. You don’t know the outcome before you give your money. As defined by the merriam-webster dictionary: “Gambling; the practice of risking money or other stakes in a game or bet”

You are risking your money in not getting an item you want. There are ways this is handled acceptably, and ways this is handled poorly. Gambling is also illegal to people under 21 in a lot of places, but places online aren’t quick to tell you why. I don’t have any sources because every source requires a paywall to get any information, but pulling from my own personal experience and what I learned in college, it’s because children are very impressionable. I say “I like pokemon” and suddenly my 2-year old can’t go anywhere without her pikachu. I remember distinctly playing poker with my mom and her friends when I was 12. When you normalize gambling, what it does is lower the risk aversion of gambling. You are less likely to see a threat in playing that card game, because when you are that young you have no concept of money. You don’t know what a dollar is, so why not throw it away so you can have fun. This is...I hesitate to call it fine, but it’s mostly harmless. The issue is with children and their lack of knowledge of money. When I grew up and got a job, it’s a lot harder to tell my brain, “hey, don’t spend that money, you won’t get it back and you won’t get what you want.” Because my brain just acknowledges the potential for what I want. I want to buy the booster pack so I can have the potential to get that masterpiece misty rainforest. I want to buy that diamond pack so I have the chance to get the cute hero. I want to buy that lootbox so I can get the battle rifle that does a cool effect. These are harmless concepts, but very dangerous.

Make no mistake, companies know how psychology works, and will use it to their advantage. MatPat from game theory states that companies have even go so far as to have systems in place that change the odds as you’re losing, and monitor your skill level to put you up against harder opponents, to see the better weapons and go, “Oh I want that!” and entice you to buy more lootboxes. As it turns out I found an article covering what he was talking about, Activision had actually acquired a patent to arrange matchmaking to do just that [x], and the article says it’s not in place, but my trust in companies is not high enough to actually believe them.(honestly, matpat made a 2-part video series about lootboxes, and I’d recommend watching them)

So, companies are trying to manipulate you to buy more gambling products. There’s proof of it. It’s also more blatantly obvious in games like Magic the Gathering, where they release fancier versions of cards at rarer probabilities. To better explain it, from a collector’s standpoint, you want the fancy card cause it has value, it has value because it’s rare, rarer than the other versions, so if you’re on the lower end of the income ladder you buy a pack, or two. After all, you could get lucky and get it. On the higher end of the income ladder, you buy the card outright and hoard it. Maybe sell it off later if you notice the price goes down. From a player perspective, you see a card is being used by tournament players, you want to win more games, so you want those cards, which encourages you to buy products and try to get those cards. That’s predatory behavior. It’s predatory from the company’s perspective because that poor person might not be able to afford the card outright, but $5-$10 isn’t much, plus they always entice you with that Chance. They also further this desire for the cards by making it limited runs, such as the secret lair packs, if there’s a low amount purchased and it’s made to order, or worse, if they limit the order capabilities themselves, that drives up the value, and provides further incentive to buy the cards and packs. This not only creates an impossible barrier between the poor and the rich, but also heavily encourages people buy their gambling pack than people would have in other conditions.

For the record, I love magic the gathering, I’m not saying the game itself is bad, this is just a VERY predatory marketing tactic.

Let’s switch gears. Gacha games. I play AFKArena, because like I said, I have a gambling addiction and cannot stop myself. In AFKArena, you collect heroes, and battle with them in various ways. If you collect more of similar heroes you can rank them up. If I’m to believe what I’ve heard, it sounds like this is pretty common for gacha games. So what makes it bad. In AFKArena you use diamonds to summon heroes, now, you can acquire diamonds by beating specific story chapters, logging in every day, random limited time events, or paying for them with real money. AFKArena hero drops don’t seem that bad compared to the free diamond amount they dish out, which has resulted in me not spending all that much money on it, all things considered ($20 over 2 years). I believe that for a mobile game like this, that’s fair. I get way more enjoyment out of the game than I do most $60 games, so it balances out. However, this isn’t the case for every gacha game, and my trust in companies, as previously stated, is very low. The issue lies in them making the rates for good heroes so low that you HAVE to spend money on the game to really get over a roadblock of sorts. I do think that there is this issue in my game and I just didn’t notice it, someone with a lower tolerance or patience might absolutely have the incentive to drop hundreds of dollars on the game over a month. There are people of all different flavours, and it’s important to keep that in mind when discussing these topics, just because a marketing technique doesn’t work on you, does not mean it doesn’t work on anyone. After all, they have those $100 packs for a reason, you might not be that reason but someone is. That’s predatory.

I feel like I’ve gotten off track, let’s get back on the rails. Where was...gambling...predatory…ah, kids. So my biggest issue, is that Magic the Gathering is marketed towards 13 year olds. Not directly, but the packs say 13+. AFKArena and any mobile game for that matter, can be downloaded by anyone with a phone for free, with minimal mention that there’s microtransactions. AAA title games like Destiny 2, Overwatch, Fortnite, etc. are probably the worst offenders. A kid spent $16,000 of his parents money on fortnite in-game purchases, and that’s not the only time this has happened [x] [x] . More often than not, what happens is, the kid wants to play a video game, like halo on xbox, or destiny, or something, they ask their mom for their credit card, and the system saves it. I mentioned before that kids do not have a concept of money or its value, so giving kids unlimited access to the credit card is going to result in this kind of thing happening. I’m not blaming the parents for not being hypervigilant, sometimes you are really busy, or disabled, or whatever the reason, and you don’t notice the system just saved your card. I’m not blaming the kids cause their brains are literally underdeveloped. I blame the corporations, because they make the process as easy as possible to prey on kids and people with gambling addictions. (as a personal anecdote, I found that if I want a magic card in MtG:O, I’m way less likely to try and buy it if I have to get up and get my card, I’d recommend not saving your card if you suffer from gambling/addiction problems)

So after all of this evidence, how can anyone still view these things as anything but predatory? The answer is simple. You’re told they aren’t. Businesses spend hundreds of thousands of dollars on really good marketing, and public relations. I tried to google why gambling is illegal for people under 21, and got nothing, I got a couple forums asking the question, and a couple religious sites saying it’ll make them degenerates. I try looking up sources to prove the psychology behind these concepts, but they are locked behind paywall after paywall after paywall. Businesses and capitalism has made it so incredibly hard to discover the truth and get information you need, and it’s on purpose. They want you to trust that that booster pack is a good idea. They want you to spend money on lootboxes (look at all the youtubers that shill out for raid shadow legends, or other gambling games to their super young fanbase [x]). They want you to lower your guard and go, “well, it’s a video game, how can it be predatory?” “it’s a card game with cute creatures on it, surely it’s not that bad”

But it is. So why did I make this post? I dunno, my brain really latched onto the topic, I see so many people enjoying gacha games, but I’m worried that it’s going to ruin lives...I just want everyone to be informed and critical of what is going on.

#gambling addiction tw #addiction tw #this is probably a bad idea to post knowing how this site operates #but it matters to me

230 notes · View notes

onlyhereforangst · 3 years

Text

WWR

I’m baaaaack bitches 😘 let’s be honest the last two episodes were shit & you wouldn’t have wanted that wwr anyways. SO let’s get into the ✨angst✨ that was Nick’s episode under the cut…

Oh but before I start, why yes, yes I called this theory too. Me and this writer share a goddamn brain or something because I’ve literally always guessed big plot points of his episodes correctly 😅

Ok Nick’s dad leaving like that, with poor bby Nick all sweet asking if he promises to bring him back his favorite pastry and him hesitating before he’s going to promise- NO.

*picture Michael Scott gif here*

It’s not faaaaaair, little Nick deserved so much better- so MUCH better. And it’s only going to get worse as the episode goes on, so strap in for the walk down emo lane.

Quick pit stop for cute banter because duh. Nick giving the real estate agent Ellie’s number cracks me up because bro you want this house with her don’t you 👀 you still keep her business cards on you when you could have just as easily gotten your own (or McGee’s) by this point 👀 you just want to maaaaarry her and move iiiiiiin with her I knooooooow it 👀 Ellie’s reaction the split second we see also has me dying because she’s like ha ha this is funny you had to talk to real estate agent you drew the short straw hey wait what the fu— you did not! Before McGee interrupts any protest she can hurl back Nick’s way and that’s just gold right there. Pure middle school flirting as per usual for them and I love it.

Oooooooh Kasie’s lab scene. The growth in this one. Nick worried his family and by extension him, is going to get implicated for murder (or is guilty) even though it sounds outrageous to him, he’s got PTSD from Mona Lisa (and who wouldn’t tbh). But Ellie immediately, like IMMEDIATELY goes and defends him. Is like uh-uh don’t even GO there, it’s not a possibility its just person of interest I don’t care if it’s literal hair at the scene of a man stabbed brutally seven times, he’s not a murderer. The grooooooowth Ellie, I’m so proud of you 🥺 we went from using that logical head to realizing it’s ok to listen to your heart and wade into situations with empathy (especially for the boy you ~*looOOoOoOve*~) And then Nick talking about his dad being dead and a deadbeat and walking out when he was 5, he looks at Ellie almost the entire time, only barely glancing over at McGee like he needs to have that connection with her, she grounds him when this is suddenly very jarring having a relative by semi-involved in a murder. And Ellie isn’t the slightest bit shocked when Nick dumps this news so clearly she’s heard it and by her look, not only has she heard this, but she does not like the man for what he did to Nick. She looks pissed his father hurt Nick like that because how dare any one hurt her man 😤

And oh here it is, we back on emo lane. Nick recognizing and seeing his dad for the first time in 30 years. It’s gonna hit like a 🎵freeeeeight traaaain🎵 at first he can’t even believe its him, he blinks like a thousand times because *surely* his eyes are deceiving him and then his dad goes and uses his nickname, his nickname people the CRUELTY. YOU DON’T GET TO JUST SHOW UP THIRTY YEARS LATER AND CALL HIM BY HIS CUTE LITTLE NICKNAME YOU GAVE HIM AS A CHILD. YOU DON’T MIGUEL. NOT IN THIS GD HOUSE. Ok and now nick is in pure shock because he just got confirmation that his dad is not only *not* dead, but he’s here in front of him, in DC no less, possibly a murderer no less. AND he’s finding this out by chasing him down *not* by Miguel reaching out to him while in DC. The shock and confusion and hurt my poor baby.

And when that shock wears off and it’s just barely contained rage, my heart 🥺 so of course Ellie goes in there with him and nows she needs to immediately be the support she knows he needs but he won’t admit to needing. Nick tries to deflect with a joke at first but oh honey it’s no use. But quick comedic relief for us on emo lane “sit down, no I don’t like sitting” AHAHAHA like father like son I’m cackling because the look Ellie and nick share and nick’s eyes warn her like don’t you dare fucking say it and she’s like yep yep nope I wasn’t gonna say a damn thing I’ll just look down and try to contain my laughter because now is NOT the time. But see I’m on my couch and I can laugh all I damn well please at this scenario that was gold from the writers thank you. On a more serious level this probably hurt nick even more seeing that he’s even got the smallest something similar to his dad. He’s probably desperate to be the exact opposite, he doesn’t want to even consider being capable of what his father was capable so this - while seemingly insignificant - thing like not wanting to sit in a chair will hit deep for him without him realizing it. If something so trivial is the exact same, wouldn’t something much much heavier like commitment to relationships and family be the exact same? Wouldn’t it?? And good god poor nick for going through that mental anguish, on emo rollercoaster lane. Because it just gets better when Miguel’s excuse for being in DC is “visiting family” like call your BULLSHIT Miguel you certainly ain’t visiting family and Nick now knows oh he lies too, great, another win for the Torres blood, fan-fucking-tastic.

Quick peek at viewing room and we don’t believe in personal space, Ellie wants to be as close as possible to her hurting bby 🥺

But back to the emo stuff - Miguel just lying off his ass and Nick fed up with his father’s games because it’s truly just twisting that knife in his back that’s been stuck there for 30 years deeper and deeper. AND THEN Miguel has the audacity to yell out for “Nico” like bitch you do NOT get to call him that either. You walked out on him and never came back gtfo. And Ellie is trying so hard to keep it together but man she wants to do one of two things if not both at the same time - wrap Nick up in her arms and shield him from this deadbeat and/or punch this man through the glass to cause just a fraction of the hurt he caused Nick. But instead she just has to keep her cool to be the supportive girlfriend she is and ask nick what he thinks and then. Then. “He’s lying…because his lips are moving”

Well FUCK. Murder me right now. The anguuuuuuuish. Poor five year old Nick in a 35 year old Nick’s body. That little boy who was promised a big hojaldre in the morning from the next town over is right there. Right there to witness the father he thought he had, hasn’t changed. One of the only memories Nick probably has of his father is him leaving. Him lying and leaving. And what does he do when he finally shows up again?

HE LIES AND LEAVES. HE FUCKING LIES AND LEAVES. (I know I’m getting ahead and technically at this point we don’t know he’ll leave again but whatever sue me because this shit is too much.)

Side note: Ellie talking about a “conflict of interest” that Nick didn’t interrogate his father is laughable considering she should have never interrogated Xavier but ok.

Ooooo lets see some pissed off Nick. Let it loose baby, you deserve this. And I know I wrote about this in the tags somewhere but can we take a second to appreciate McGee’s growth??? Like bro went from straight up denial to acceptance and giving Ellie the look of “go talk to your boyfriend ok we need to make sure he’s alright and we both know your support is going to go a lot further than my support” and Ellie wordlessly kNOWS EXACTLY WHAT HE’S SAYING. She’s like yeah, of course I’ll go help my man why wouldn’t I.

I don’t know why but Ellie asking Nick if he’s talked to his “mom and sister” is just so 🥰 I can’t explain this one to you but I love this dialogue ok. Actually I love this whole ensuing conversation. Nick still is bitter (he has every gd right to be), Ellie playing the supportive girlfriend but *tiiiiiniest* bit of devil’s advocate with saying he might be innocent. Once again, so much growth because honestly she knows what it’ll do to Nick if his dad actually *is* a murderer. Like can we for a second imagine if his dad actually was guilty, right? Nick already saw he was like his dad in trivial things like not wanting to sit in chairs. Nick has already had serious, serious doubts to what he’s capable of aka worried he could, if the right buttons were pushed, be a murderer on multiple occasions. Ellie has been there with him for all of that, she knows how low his confidence is when it comes to his perceived “goodness” and she knows just how much it would break him if he learned his direct bloodline IS capable of murder. She knows how he’d spiral if that was true and so she’s gripping to any small possibility his dad is innocent. But nick, oh poor Nick my heart- he’s done. He opens up to Ellie without literally any prodding. He’s baring his long buried soul to her, that troubled, broken childhood that he surely keeps locked away in fear of letting anyone see a weakness. He bares it without question because he feels so safe in her presence he can let her in to see his deepest shame and by extension his deepest worry 🥺🥺🥺 and poor Ellie, she’s a little lost at how to go about helping him because she does have a good relationship with her dad, so yes all she has here for him is saying his father was guilty of a crap dad but it’s because she’s still trying to convince them both he has to be good. He has to be good for Nick’s sake. Buuuuuuut it doesn’t really work does it, because oh shit pissed the fuck off Nick is a site to behold isn’t it 🥵 kicking down doors once again and his smart “still think he’s innocent” oooooooo damn. Ellie’s face says it all- she’s trying so hard to hold out hope for Miguel, so hard. She needs him to be innocent she’s willing to speak it into existence a thousand times but her face is like fuck this is going to kill him and I can’t do a damn thing about it other than just watch.

More pissed off Nick 🥵 but when you think about it is so so painful, all I can picture is that little 5 year old boy who woke up the next morning waiting, waiting, and waiting. Staring out the window at each car that slows down but ultimately passes. Tugging on his Mami’s shirt asking for the hundredth time when papi is coming back from the bakery with his hojaldre, oblivious to the tears that are slowly sliding down her cheek because she still can’t find the words to tell him what she knows deep down. That little boy who when the sun starts to set the confusion sets in with it. Why hasn’t my papi come back yet? Where is he? He promised. The sadness and sense of rejection that starts to fill his little heart when his mami tucks him and his sister into bed and he asks one final time where papi is and will he say goodnight to them and his Mami has to say she’s not sure when he’s coming home and quietly to the side, “if he’s coming home.” The little boy who weeks later has finally abandoned watching out the window every, single morning. The little boy who had his heart ripped out and thrown to the side of the road when he realized his papi didn’t go to the bakery and instead he was thrown out by his father like a day-old hojaldre. So yeah pissed Nick is fine af but good god the angst underneath is suffocating. Because Nick in this moment doesn’t know the *true* reason Miguel left. He knows what he lived and what he lived is a piece of shit. Nick’s response to “is that what you think of me” is amicable because OOF he could’ve gone the fuck off right there and told him what he really thought of him but he stuck with only a slight dig. TO WHICH MIGUEL. FUCK YOU MIGUEL. IT HASN’T HURT YOU MUCH. FUCK YOU MIGUEL. FUCK YOU. SOUNDS LIKE YOU WERE A SHIT DAD SO YEAH PROBABLY A GOOD THING YOU LEFT. THANK HIM NICK WITH YOUR FISTS BECAUSE HE’S A LITTLE SHIT. FUCK YOU MIGUEL. TOUGHENED HIM UP SO MUCH HE SHUTS EVERYONE OUT. YEAH FUCK YOU.

And then man here is the point where it all just muddies in Nick’s mind. The poor dude. He knows this line of work, hell he was undercover for almost a decade. He understands how that leaves almost no room for a family. He gets it, so deep deep deep down a tiny part of him realizes why Miguel likely *thought* it was ok to ditch his family. But for thirty years he’s felt abandoned- no reasoning can change that.

“It’s good to know he was making a nice living while my family was starving” fucking GET HIM NICK. Damn I wish Miguel had been in the room for that. He deserved to hear that one. Ruthless.

I do not know how I missed this the first time around but holy shit Nick asked to be removed from the case. Nicholas Torres- a man who does not back down. A man who bullied his way into finishing his first ever case with this team that he was arguably way too close to that one too. This is how much pain Miguel brings him. A man who does not quit, not in his vocabulary - was so pissed at getting sent home back when Reeves died, he asks to get sidelined. He actually asks to get sidelined. Holy shit Miguel did a number on Nick and I mean we knew this but 🥺😭😭 poor bby. No wonder you don’t trust yourself in a serious relationship. It’s not the girl you’re worried about it’s you. You don’t think you’re capable of staying, you’re terrified you’ll be just like your dad and leave. once again, you’ve seen the similarities with trivial things and so this just cements your fear of failing at commitment. And this is Nick in just so much pain he asks to step back. oof. I do love Leon stepping into a slight fatherly role for Nick right there though, he shows his support, his pride in Nick and in that moment I think Nick realizes while his father by blood is shit, he’s got several other strong role models in his life that care and that’s why he agrees to work with him.

Nick’s smarts comment about leaving the note behind 🤣 oh classic Torres move. Also do yourself a favor and pause it on Ellie’s reaction to him. GOLD hahaha she’s like ooo-kay did you really feel the need to say that, let’s not. Honestly I think I’ve given this look to my husband almost daily. They married y’all.

So married that she overhears Miguel trying to talk to Nick and her hackles raise!!! She’s like hold the fuck up do not traumatize my baby even more, Nick do you need me??? Because I will get you out of this, I will be here for you, I will fight this man, just say the damn word!!!! And Nick ugh, his look. They can communicate with just a simple look, he knows all that she would do for him in that moment and still nods her off, but that tiny bit of gratitude is present. Then we find out that yes Grace is really good at guessing theories “in order to keep his young family safe, it means he has to leave. Of course he can’t *tell* them why he has to leave so that they continue to stay innocent and safe. So he plays it like he’s a deadbeat dude who was “too young” to be a father and is just now realizing it and leaves his wife, little daughter & son behind. Flash forward thirty years and the NCIS case leads them to him. A piece of evidence pops up with his alias, they go knocking down doors to interrogate a potential suspect (Nick’s father) before our lovely CIA agent interfere and claims he’s innocent because he’s a CI…” like DAMN, I’m good. Hahaha any ways the reason I bring this up is because I feel like I predicted/analyzed Nick’s feelings really well back then in this theory and after seeing his expressions, they hold true. Nick is just absolutely warring with himself during this explanation, searching for anything to confirm his dad truly is a deadbeat (and yes he is still absolutely a piece of shit for what he did, but there’s a “good” reason for his leaving and that’s what makes it so- hard.) and as I said when I first broke this down, Nick understands undercover work and his dad (being the POS he is) brings that up to Nick. Like he should “get” it because wouldn’t he do the same thing since he’s in that life? But here’s where (and Nick doesn’t totally realize it yet) Nick and Miguel are different. Because Nick came back, Nick stayed. He stayed y’all and he says it here but he does not realize the implications of his words quite yet. He is NOT the same as Miguel. Yeah he doesn’t like to sit in chairs but he has stayed. He has stayed through some tough shit too but he’s stayed nonetheless. More than Miguel could ever fucking say, that’s for sure. So yes, when Nick has the come to Jesus and realizes that he is not the same as his dad and he can and will stay? Damn I can’t wait for that moment. Also I wanted to slap Miguel when he called Nick “mijo” because BITCH YOU DO NOT GET TO CALL HIM THAT. YOU DO NOT GET TO CALL HIM YOUR SON. NO. “I’m not perfect but I did the best I could” well fuck you too Miguel because look at this broken five year old boy inside a thirty five year old man’s body. Does that look like the product of a “best you could”?? Does he look “ok” to you??? Fuck you.

But yes here’s my take on where Nick is at: how do you forgive someone you’ve despised for thirty years once you know they “didn’t have a choice” (even though it will always feel like they had a choice or they could’ve explained it to you even if you were only five) and left in reality token you safe and give you a better chance at life? How do you reconcile the real dad and the one you lived with in your head for so long?? How???

And then you’re stuck still reeling from the night before and the bomb that was dropped and the reconciliation you’re attempting to your dad bringing in the ONE THING. The ONE THING he promised to bring home in the morning thirty years prior. How the actual fuck does one come back from that. Can I give another big FUCK YOU to Miguel Torres? Because seriously??? Why do you ever think that’s ok??? Hey I promised my kid I’d bring him hojaldres in the morning for breakfast thirty years ago so may as well make good on that promise right, only thirty years late that’s totally fine right? He won’t tell the difference right?

Fuck you, Miguel.

And they’re still clearly Nick’s favorite because he’s brought Jimmy to a restaurant specifically for them and that just makes my heart break for the man he had to become without a father. He still held onto that love for them even though they were probably always associated with a horrible, horrible memory of being abandoned 🥺🥺 god damn Nick you’re so broken I’m so sorry.

Ellie is still as supportive as ever and good god we clearly have lost all pretense of personal space at this point, what is her we don’t know her isn’t this normal for coworkers? But this conversation implies he called her after his talk with his dad and ugh yesssss 😩❤️ I still think he called her immediately after leaving the building, talked the entire car ride home and while getting ready for bed, needing the comfort of her voice on the other end of the line as he worked through his whirlwind of emotions and tried to come down off the cliff he felt himself on. All pretenses of a bad boy with a mysterious flare forever gone, his heart is open for her to see and he doesn’t give two shits about it anymore. But Ellie does a damn good job of girlfriend duties here and not only supports him but also gently prods him to see if he can maybe one day have a relationship with his father. The parallels she brings up makes him think (and also makes him look at her lips twice 👀 he’s just so close to her how could he not I mean right 😅) and I love that she’s still being v supportive but also trying to help him grow.

And then Ellie giving Nick the option to go with his dad or go to the other location because she’s not going to push anything on him he doesn’t want and then when he chooses the embassy to avoid his dad her reaction had me laughing 🤣 but she respects it. And yet shortly after Miguel tries to team up with Nick and Ellie hears it from the other side of the bullpen, immediately all ears to step in if he wants to avoid him again despite giving him flack for it earlier. Nick can sense her worry and support and this is the moment he takes her advice in just a tiny step and accepts teaming up with his dad. But OMG KILL ME WHEN NICK THINKS HIS DAD IS DEAD BEFORE HE GETS TO TRY AT A RELATIONSHIP AGAIN. HIS WHISPERED “papa’s” I CAAAAAN’T.

Ugh and then his last conversation with his dad while Ellie is checking on him constantly. It’s just too much, that little boy is back, desperately hoping for his dad to stick around. And Ellie is just so happy she can’t contain it for him and it’s perfect. He walks right to her, her hand on his back because they just need to touch each other after such a heavy couple of days and Nick echoes her advice back at her because he’s showing he listens and he values her insight and I just love it.

AND THEN MIGUEL HAS COME TO RIP MY HEART OUT BECAUSE HE’S A PIECE OF SHIT REMEMBER.

My poor bby Nick’s face when he realized his dad LIES AND LEAVES. REMEMBER. HE LIES AND LEAVES. God Wilmer killed it because Nick is literally on the verge of tears and my heart breaks and then yes he goes to Gibbs to see his pseudo-father who he then realizes is more of a father figure than Miguel will ever be and hell that’s okay but STILL.

I will end this WWR with a I love supportive girlfriend Ellie and another big Fuck You to Miguel Torres.

Goodnight.

#ellick #ncis #wwr #18x12 #there's a lot of yelling #there's a lot of swearing #there's just a lot yall #this ep was angst central and you know me 😅#enjooooooy #hopefully i can get 18x13 out tomorrow before 18x14 lol

39 notes · View notes

starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years

Text

HASO, “A Gift.”

Ok, so someone somewhere, I thought asked for Adam/Sunny Fluff. I don’t know where or who that was, either that or I am remembering incorrectly, but either way here it is whether you wanted it or not :)

Thought I’d focus a little bit on Sunny.

Ignore if you are NOT interested in the relationship subplot.

I am trying to do this right, but who knows if that is going to work because I don’t usually write this sort of thing.

The humming of the ship’s engines reminded her of Anin, and reminded her of the distant roaring of the volcanoes as she slept in their family’s little hut at the center of the fertile belt. The feeling the memory provoked in her was a fond one despite being tainted by years and years of her mother's overarching disapproval, disapproval she was only now casting off, shedding it like an alien might shed a second skin.

It was a thing slow in coming, after years and years of constant disapproval, but becoming a Saint had been her last push into shaking off the insecurities of her childhood. The spirits of Anin had chosen her, and that was something even her mother could not deny, it was something sunny herself could not deny, despite her own fears and insecurities telling her otherwise.

She was worthy.

Finally worthy.

It felt good to wake up like that, felt good to sit up in the dim light of her little room aboard the Omen, and know that she was enough. She lay there in the quiet for a moment, in her own small room, with her own little window that looked out on the stars to her side. She rolled over to stare outward watching a distant galaxy spinning past in all of its glory. Adam liked to park the ship in places like this, places that would remind the crew of where they were and what they were doing.

From this distance that spiraling galaxy seemed so small despite being billions of lightyears wide, dim and distant, though still shedding a faint light upon her from so far away. As she lay there another light pulsed over her body, luminous purple-blue LED strips around the bottom and top of her room, dimmed for the proper ambiance.

She sat up slowly stretching and flexing her feet.

She sat up looking around her room and the familiar space lit by the glowing purple blue neon.

It was a strange mixture of things alien and things familiar.

Beside her bed, a tall, climate-controlled glass case held a large armature upon which her saint’s armor was proudly displayed, little white stage lights shining pearly waves of rainbow across it’s outer metal, beside that a metal rack on the wall held a collection of spears, some worn and used with age, others sharp and new, one glittering with the same pearly white sheen as her armor.

On the headboard of her bed rested a pair of lime green headphones.

There was a Holo-screen on the wall across from her bed and a couple of photos tacked up on the wall across from her. They were hard to make out in the dim bluish lighting, but there was one of Anin and a few of her and her brother, a couple more of her and Adam, and a single image in the middle.

It wasn’t as refined an image as the others, having been hand painted by a crewmember as a commission for her….

An image of a tall golden Drev in mighty war armor.

Just below that image, set back into the wall, there sat a small, almost-shrine, with a spirit light and a few other odds and ends from Anin.

Sunny stood and stretched rolling her muscles and joints as she walked over to the little shrine and knelt before it.

She reached out and cupped the spirit light in her two lower hands as she bowed her head.

She stayed there for some time as the minutes ticked away.

A clock on her nightstand gave her the time in human hours tiny numbers glowing green.

As the clock hit 30, she opened her eyes and turned to the side dipping a rag into the sink and proceeding to rub it over her body.

Drev didn’t need to bath as frequently or as…. Heavily as humans. Where humans relied on natural oils to keep their skin healthy, the Drev had no such problems, and rarely produced the amount of bacteria that humans did. For that reason, Drev didn’t tend to smell, and if they did it had more to do with what they ate than it did with their own festering nastiness.

She set the rag down and stood, pulling on her headphones and scrolling through her playlist using the implanted chip in her arm, like the humans she had taken up one of the devices to store her information and money, along with the implanted translation system just below her ear. She kept it off most of the time, but she could turn it on when needed.

Scrolling through the list, she paused at one and then hesitated before clicking on it.

Sunny knew a lot about music for someone who grew up without it. It was a piece of art she thought the Drev were sadly lacking, and listening to the drums and rasping vocals of humans two thousand years dead, she wondered why they had never thought of it.

The playlist, had been one she hadn’t touched in a while.

It tended to make her sad despite it’s upbeat and powerful music.

It reminded her of Adam.

It was his playlist after all, but she really did feel like she needed something to get her going this morning,

With the music going, she grabbed one of her spears from the wall, and then stood at the center of the room.

She closed her eyes as the blue neon light glowed over her. WIth her eyes still closed she began to move slowly, one foot forward one foot back dropping into a crouch pulling the spear back and then beginning to move slowly remembering the forms, remembering the mountain and the voice of Naktan as he urged her through the new and emerging steps.

***

0400

Adam sat up, cool air blowing on his skin from the vent above.

Outside the window the vast spiral of the Milky way glowed in from his viewing window casting delicate yellow light over his skin. He stretched muscles flexing and tensing as he extended his body to a brief maximum before relaxing.

He sat there for a moment taking in the view, allowing it to bath him in cosmic light.

And some people wake up to a sunrise.

He reached down to the side of the bed, gripping the cool metal and carapace surface with his left hand before socketing it into place over the stub of his missing leg. There was a sharp whirr and then a sudden rush of sensation. He flexed the two toed alien foot of his right leg and stood stretching his legs as well.

He turned and walked to stand before the full length mirror by the window. The light was dim, but it still cast enough illumination that he could see the hills and valleys of his own body set in sharp contrast in the light.

He stood straighter lifting his chin and surveying himself in the mirror.

He was almost proud of what he saw. Never a slouch, he had always been active, and during training he had been in good shape, but a few years as captain of the ship, with more duties and little time he had neglected his physique for other matters. It hadn’t done anything horrible to him, but he had seen better days.

That was, of course, until his breakup with Sunny. Granted a week of binge drinking hadn’t exactly helped matters, but his following vacation time that had included a stint of time with a human colony of Neospartans had kicked his ass back into gear. A few months and a couple of personal revelations later, and he had made it his goal to mold himself into the best version of himself he could conceive. His body was just beginning to show that dedication.

He bent down, tugging a pair of shoes from one of the drawers under his bed, and sat down to tie them on.

He stood and walked over to the side of the room pressing a button on the wall. There was a sharp whirring as the floor rotated and three large screens slowly pulled down from the ceiling.

Off to his left waffles opened one sleepy amber eye before heading back to sleep.

He flicked his arm once and stepped onto the small rectangle of floor.

The screens lit up in front of him showing an open mountain landscape and a trail.

The floor below him slowly began to move, and he broke into a jog. The music flipped on at his request as his feet began pounding against the moving floor. He kept his back straight and his arms against his sides as the floor tilted and rolled slightly below him, mirroring the trail on which he now ran.

Sweat rolled down his bare back as, forty minutes later he dropped to the floor, hands held at shoulder width pushing himself repeatedly up and down and up and down. When his arms shook, he stood and leaped upwards, catching onto the padded black bar on the ceiling. The muscles in his back flexed firing as his teeth clenched and sweat dripped down his face onto his shoulders.

He repeated that sequence for some time before returning to the side of the room and picking up the silver metaled spear.

Still breathing hard he pulled on the VR glasses and followed the Drev training simulation twice before putting the spear away.

Waffles at up and stretched.

He patted her head once before passing into the bathroom.

Water cascaded down his body where he sat washing salt and sweat down the drain, only to socket his leg back on again and dress himself. Eyes stared down at him from the walls, vintage movie posters from years long gone.

A replica lightsaber glittered dully in the light where it sat on his nightstand.

He adjusted his uniform cap before the mirror, and whistled once for waffles, who ran up to stand at his heels.

He opened the door just as Simon was raising her hand to knock.

She stepped back in surprise, and he smiled, “Beat you again, Simon.”

She opened her mouth nonplussed and then closed it again holding out her clipboard, “Morning, Sir.”

He took the clipboard and marched with her up to the bridge where he got his work done. Waffles lay at his feet as he gave the morning crew their orders, and inspected their trajectory, reading their orders from the UNSC and the GA,before sending off a few reports. He read through the reports of his chief staff and approved a few important changes.

Once upon a time a day like this might have overwhelmed him.

He stepped down from his chair and turned to Simon, “Command is your Simon, I have a few things to attend to this morning.”

She saluted crisply and traded seats with him as he turned and stepped down the stairs.

***

The sound of the engine was louder down here and his heart thrummed along with her as he stood with his back to the cold metal. At his feet Waffles stared up at him with her big brown eyes, waiting.

Deep breath.

He turned stepping into the doorway and looking into the small workroom, lined on all sides by unfinished projects and hanging blueprints. He stood quietly in the doorway, watching the light play over her blue carapace, rolling down her like rivers of sunlit water. The way she moved was so steady, and so sure, that it seemed as if she herself were the waters of a mountain river, steady, changing only with the greatest deliberation.

The movement of her hands on metal was so precise and so predictable he might have been able to pound out a beat to her movements, but this was hardly the time. He stepped forward silently over the metal.

“Someone once told me you can only find Gemstones in the darkest of places.”

Sunny turned her head and rolled a great golden eye when she saw it was him, “You know you flirt like a…. Hut being tipped over in a windstorm.”

“How’s that?”

“A mild disaster.”

“How ironic, so are you metaphors.”

She eyed him up and down with one golden eye, “Where is he and what have you done with him?”

“What do you mean?”

“My Adam is a stuttering idiot, where did you put him.”

My Adam.

He walked over and sat on the bench next to her leaning back against her work table, “Tied up and locked in the closet for the time being.” he smiled and scooted a little closer, “He tends to get nervous talking to pretty girls.”

“Oh, does he?”

She leaned forward a little bit one of her hands brushing up against his leg.

Shit

Dammit! The stuttering began in earnest and he felt his face go red to the tips of his ears.

She hummed deep in her chest, “That was a good try, you almost made it a full minute.”

***

Sunny hummed in mild pleasure as she watched him squirm, her superior cones and rods picking up the delicate change in skin tone as subcutaneous blood rushed into his face. The Delicate pattern of UV light that played over his face glowed in green blue pearl patterns, swirling over his cheeks and face.

She knew those pattern well, and guessed she could probably have drawn them from memory if someone had asked.

He ran a hand through his hair, and as he did she could pick out the individual strands of hair and the color changes. A few of the hairs at his temples had bleached white. She wouldn’t tell him that, but the number of white hairs had been increasing rapidly over the past few months. Weather it was stress or genetics she didn’t know.

He cleared his throat awkwardly.

“I tried.”

“You did.”

He continued to rub the back of his neck, “I um…. I brought you… s-something.”

“Oh?”

He reached down beside him and pulled a long black box from the floor offering it up so she had to pull back to let him set it down on the table before her.

He turned to look at her, his one green eye so alive with worry she wanted to reach over and take his hand just to calm him down.

But he remained even, and with a smile of his face, he reached over and flipped the case open. She glanced in, eyes wide with surprise, “What…. This is all for… me?”

“I thought you…. Might like it. I mean they aren’t really my thing you know, but they did, they did make me think of you and I, well I picked up a few things but I…”

One look from her silenced him and he wilted back into his seat, “It was during my little vacation…. I was going to give them to you earlier, but I didn’t want it to seem like I was trying to buy you back. I really just thought you’d like them.”

“Tell me about them.”

He scooted over to sit next to her, and he was close enough now that she could feel the heat radiating from his body, “This knife, I won in a bar fight with an outlaw, stole it off him while he was unconscious.” She watched him blush again a little, “I would have felt bad about it accept he was kind of an asshole.” he pointed to the next item in the velvet lined box, “That is the revolver of another outlaw I met by the name McBride, bested him in a boxing match on the back of a moving train. That spear was given to me as a gift by the NeoSpartan king for prowess in battle, and that triton was something I picked up free hunting alien sharks.”

He turned to look up at her, “I’m not pushing or anything,” he held up his hands, “Jupiter knows I don’t deserve it, but, it is a gift, and I want you to have them-”

He trailed off.

She stared at him.

He stared back.

She leaned down a little lowering her head and lightly touching her forehead against his. He wasn’t speaking any longer. Her eyes were half closed. She leaned forward, one of her hands resting on his real, human leg. He was warm below her hand, almost burning. One of his hands rested over hers.

They sat like that for a minute.

And then she felt him move. Something brushed over her cheek, soft, human lips depressed against her skin warm and humid. She hummed softly in her chest until the pressure pulled back, and she opened an eye. Before she knew what had happened she was on his feet, gone from underneath her hands.

He stood about two or three feet away skin on his face and hands bright with blood flow.

“I-I have to…. To do a.-something, a- about a thing, but I hope you like…. The gift.” He turned.

“Watch out for the-’

There was a clattering noise as he caught his toe on the step, pitched forward, landed on his hands and knees and then scrambled out the doorway with all the grace and beauty of a meteor collision.

“Step.” She finished to the empty air

She could still hear him clattering his way up the hall.

ON the floor below her Waffles looked after him with a comically confused expression for a dog.

“Well go on after him, and make sure he doesn’t accidentally kill himself.”

Waffles yipped low in her throat and charged off after him

Sunny hummed and turned back to her work bench staring down at the box of items, reaching up a hand to rest on her cheek.

They were getting there.

Slowly.

But they were getting there

207 notes · View notes

jaskierswolf · 4 years

Text

The Grass is Greener Pt.1/3

Summary: Jaskier's mother is coming to stay and his garden is an absolute mess and his lawn mower has seen better days... luckily for him his ridiculously hot neighbour is there to lend a hand.

Geraskier

CW: Shitty parents being shitty.

(Prompted by @alwenarin and based on this post by @infinite-mirrors)

________

Jaskier stared forlornly out at his garden. His mother was due to come over on her yearly visit and the next few days of his life were going to be hell. His mother was the sort to blast into his life like a fucking tornado, pull apart everything that he had built for himself and leave him broken, shattered into a thousand shards of glass. He wasn’t even sure why he still let her in, probably some childhood trauma that meant he was desperate to please her, to make her proud, but what did he know? He wasn’t a therapist, much to her displeasure. Anything would have been better in her eyes than a musician and occasional bartender.

He didn’t make much money. His band hadn’t taken off yet and only really had a small but dedicated following online that donated pocket money in exchange for small previews of new tracks or little poems that could be given to lovers or in greetings cards. Most of his rent was paid for in the tips he made at the bar. He was lucky to have the house at all really. He shared it with his housemates: Priscilla, his bandmate and ex, Essi, her younger sister, Valdo Marx, his former schoolmate, professional rival and absolutely twat face who lurked in his attic room and never really came out to talk to them, and last but not least, Regis, a kind scholarly type who had been living in the house before the other rooms had become available and most importantly made excellent homemade gin.

Said housemates had agreed to fuck off for the weekend so he could pretend that the house was his in a last ditched attempt win over his mother.

Of course, none of them had helped to tidy up before leaving and he’d spent the last twenty-four hours deep cleaning the house, and bolting the door to Regis’s bathroom shut. The gin in the bathtub wasn’t ready to bottle yet and he wasn’t exactly going to drain the tub of his elixir. He’d moved the furniture in his friend’s rooms around enough to make it look like they weren’t extra bedrooms, more… rooms that just happened to have beds in case he had company. Priscilla’s room now resembled a music room, Essi’s room had been turned into a makeshift study, Valdo’s he’d left a mess and claimed it was just an attic, and Regis’s room was sort of a library if you squinted hard enough.

That just left the garden.

“Bollocks!” He moaned.

None of them really cared much about the garden, apart from the box down the end which housed Regis’s herb garden for cooking. The rest of the garden a mess. The grass was practically a wild meadow filled with weeds. He quite liked it. He enjoyed looking at the dandelions, daisies and buttercups but his mother would have a fit.

Where was he even going to start?

Lawnmower. They must have one. He stumbled through his back door onto the patio and made his way to the shed that honestly barely lived up to its name. It was falling apart and leaked horrendously, but luckily inside was one rusty looking lawnmower.

“Bingo!” He grinned and pulled the mower out of the shed. It was heavier than it looked but luckily Jaskier was also stronger than he looked. Even so he wasn’t entirely how he was going to start the damn thing.

Perhaps Geralt would know…

Fuck.

Geralt.

Geralt had just adopted a newborn baby. Her name was Ciri. Most of the time Geralt just called her ‘Cub’ which Jaskier found to be incredibly endearing, a fact that had nothing to do with his teensy little crush on the mechanic.

He pulled up Geralt’s number in his phone. He’d been delighted when Geralt had given him his number, yes maybe it was because Jaskier kept turning up at Geralt’s doorstep after shifts at work because he’d forgotten his keys and none of his bastard housemates were answering the door and Geralt just happened to have a spare key, but the main thing is he had Geralt’s number.

After that they’d conversed a few times over text. Mostly if one of them was running to the shops and wanted to know if the other needed anything. Occasionally Geralt would text to ask Jaskier if he could watch Ciri for a short while if Geralt needed to leave the house. Once Geralt had even given him a lift to work because Jaskier’s bike had gotten a flat tire and he didn’t have enough time to walk all the way to the bar. So they weren’t exactly strangers but he wouldn’t really call them friends.

In fact Geralt was still listed as Hot Neighbour in his phone. He meant to change it, it was just that you couldn’t argue with the truth. Geralt was his hot neighbour.

J —Hey Geralt! Is it ok if I mow my lawn? I don’t want to wake Ciri if she’s asleep. :)

He stared at his phone intently until about an eternity later, Geralt replied.

G — The child must not be an obstacle.

Jaskier snorted as he read the response. He read it aloud a couple of times trying to mimic Geralt’s rough husky voice and managed to give himself the giggles.

His phone buzzed again.

G — I can hear you laughing at me.

“Oh shit!” He almost dropped his phone and his cheeks felt like they were on fire. “Sorry Geralt!” He called into the air.

G— Hmm.

Jaskier scoffed. Who text back “Hmm”? And why did Jaskier still find that so attractive?

But never mind that! He had the green light. Operation Finally Make His Mother Proud, or FMHMP for short, and yes you could absolutely say that if you tried hard enough, was go! He was going to mow the lawn like a proper adult!

He tried for about six years to turn the mower on but without any success. He kicked the lawnmower in frustration and the whole damned thing fell apart.

“Fuck it!” He yelled as he hopped about on his good foot that hadn’t been battered by lawnmower.

He sulked back into the house and flopped down dramatically on the sofa. It was over. His mother was going to hate him and he would die as a disgrace to the Pankratz name and the Lettenhove estate.

He was half way through his pity party when the doorbell rang. He grabbed his phone to check the time. Strange, his mother wasn’t due for another three hours.

“What the fuck?” He mused and padded over to the door. To his surprise Geralt was standing on his doorstep with Ciri tucked safely into a baby sling on his chest and behind him was a shiny lawnmower. “Ah. Geralt!” He grinned.

Geralt turned to the lawnmower and back to him. “Thought you might need some help.”

Jaskier blushed. “Right. Yes. Of course. Come on in!” He stood back to let Geralt through. “Oh, actually do you want to come round the side gate? The lawnmower probably shouldn’t come through the house. I’ve just cleaned up.”

Geralt grunted but followed Jaskier around the side of the house and into the back garden.

“What the fuck, Jaskier?” He grumbled when he saw the state of the lawn. “I thought you said you were mowing the lawn, not trying to find it!”

“Ah, yes, well. That is an excellent point.” Jaskier stammered, pulling at the hem of his shirt nervously. “You see my mother is visiting.”

Geralt raised an eyebrow. “Your mother, how old are you? Twelve?”

Jaskier gaped at his neighbour. “Geralt!” He whined. “I’m twenty-nine! Mother is just a cow.”

“Hmm. Fine. Let’s do this.” Geralt pulled Ciri gently out of her sling and passed her to Jaskier. “Hold her. I need to grab her stuff. This will take longer than I thought.”

“Oh hang on!” Jaskier called after Geralt but it was too late and Ciri began to cry. “Umm. There there.” He cooed and rocked her gently. “Shall I sing you a lullaby, cub?”

She didn’t answer, babies rarely did, so he decided a lullaby would be fine and began to sing in hushed tones as he rocked her in his arms. Geralt wasn’t long but he seemed surprise to come back to Jaskier rocking his daughter to sleep in his arms.

“Hmm. She likes you.” Geralt noted.

He was carrying Ciri’s car seat and a bag was slung over his shoulder. In his other hand was a large electric contraption with some nasty blades at the end. He dumped the scary looking monster and placed the travel cot on the patio table. Once Ciri was safely asleep they got to work.

Or more accurately, Geralt got to work. Jaskier mostly just watched and made sure Geralt had all the refreshments he needed. He also kept the conversation going by listing all the grievances his mother had with him from her last visit, Geralt hummed and grunted but didn’t offer much in return but it didn’t matter. Jaskier was more than capable of holding an entire conversation by himself.

“And then she starts wittering on about how my sister has a perfect husband and a darling little angel.” Jaskier moaned. “So of course then it’s ‘Julian why don’t you have a wife?’”

“Julian?” Geralt asked.

Jaskier glared at his neighbour. “Don’t ever call me that, I beg of you.”

Geralt shrugged. “I won’t. Just asking.”

“And I tell her, for the hundredth time, to say partner or spouse or lover or you know… not gender specific because she knows! Geralt! She knows. I don’t know how many times I have to tell her.” Jaskier sighed. “Oh, umm I’m bisexual just to give you some context there.”

Geralt nodded. “Right.”

“So of course she starts complaining that I always have to make everything gay, and I’m like… ‘Mother, I am gay!’” Jaskier announced with wide arms.

Geralt looked up at him, pausing halfway down the lawn that was now starting to resemble a lawn. “So why not tell her you’re seeing someone?” He asked. “Solve both problems if you say it’s a guy.”

Jaskier put his hands on his hips and tilted his head. “Yeah.” He scoffed. “Until she asks to meet him.”

Geralt shrugged. “I could do it.”

Jaskier’s heart jumped in his chest. “You what? Geralt!”

“My ex has been bothering me about finding someone.” He grumbled. “Two birds, One stone.”

Jaskier narrowed his eyes at his insanely hot neighbour who was now apparently suggesting they… fake date??

“What exactly are you suggesting here?” Jaskier asked slowly. “You pretend to be my boyfriend for my mother’s visit and we what? Send a few photos to your ex to prove you’re moving on?”

Geralt smirked. “As long as you promise not to fall in love with me.”

Jaskier’s jaw dropped.

Well fuck. _______

#the witcher #geraskier #geraskier fanfiction #geralt of rivia #jaskier pankratz #geralt x jaskier #jaskier x geralt #geralt/jaskier #cirilla fiona elen riannon #ciri #dad geralt #surprise fake dating #I could be persuaded to write a second part #let me know if you want part 2 #Update there will now be three parts #ask and you shall receive #the grass is greener

384 notes · View notes

bluefirewrites · 3 years

Note

I'm sorry about your presentation, idk if your still doing hcs but can you do one where Reggie is julies older brother by 1 or 2 years and Julie in love with Luke and Luke likes her as well but neither will do anything because of Reggie. If not its ok. ☺

I brought up an idea similar to this a while back! But let’s rework it.

In this scenario, let’s say that the Molinas and the Peters' have known each other for a long while, ever since Julie and Reggie were kids. They’ve pretty much grown up together.

And then they get older and a lot of shit happens. Julie’s mom dies. And Reggie’s parents finally get a divorce.

As the two families are healing and trying to move on, eventually Ray and Reggie’s mom sorta just clicked.

And years later, they ended up getting married- officially making Reggie Julie’s brother.

They move into the Molina’s house and they transition to one big family so seamlessly that Julie often forgets that Reggie isn’t her brother in the biological sense. He’s always been an older figure to her, always looking out for her and Carlos.

She’s so used to having him around. And even used to having Reggie’s friends around growing up.

They all met when they were in middle school, but Julie hasn’t seen them much over the years, only seeing them during special occasions or whenever she would go to the Peters’ from time to time.

She remembers Alex, the shy blonde one who does his best to keep the peace when everyone got too rowdy.

And then Bobby, who is just hitting his stride in his sullen, moody teenager phase. Still nice though.

And Luke, the wild one. The guy was all long haired, energetic, and sporting some gnarly braces the last time she saw him.

She hears a knock at the door the night Reggie and his mom had moved in. Julie opens it and it’s the boys: Alex, Bobby, and- woah.

“Julie?” Luke smiles, his long hair cut to a still shaggy ‘do, braces gone, and now ripped, telling by how he’s proudly wearing his Nirvana cutoffs, “No way! Long time no see,”

“Y-yeah,” Julie instantly wishes that she wasn’t wearing her dinosaur slippers at the moment. She leads them all inside, telling them to make themselves at home while they wait for Reggie to come down.

Julie hurries off to her room, red in the face, internally freaking out about the idea of a cute guy coming over to her house on a regular basis.

A cute guy she cannot get involved with... imagine how Reggie would react...

The guys note the dreamlike expression on Luke’s face as he watched Julie go up the stairs. Once she’s gone, Luke whirls around, “Has she always been like that?”

“Squirrely?”

“No...” Luke drops his voice down to a whisper, “I mean, has she always been that cute?”

Alex and Bobby shoots this idea down real quick, “Woah! No no no! Off-limits! She's off-limits, Luke!”

“How come?”

“She’s Reggie’s sister,”

“Step-sister,”

“Still,” Bobby cuts in, “You know Reggie. He takes the brother role very seriously. He won’t let you stand a foot away from her if he heard what you just said.”

“If who heard what?” Reggie says, coming down the stairs.

“Nothing!” They all exclaim, and Luke silently thanks the boys for not ratting him out and invoking Reggie’s wrath.

He does know how Reggie can get when it comes to Julie. He’s already so protective of her. So he’s not going to try and do anything to piss him off.

And besides, he just finds her cute. It’s not like anything’s gonna come from it.

Wrong.

Luke and Julie are hardcore pining for each other the more time the boys spend over at the house.

And they’re over a lot.

Julie would come into the garage, now a studio space for the boys’ band, and watches them practice.

Somehow Luke finds a way to gravitate towards her. Always standing beside her, ready to show a song he’s been working on or just ask how she’s doing.

And Julie would find an excuse to hang around the boys, whether offering to help with songwriting or help clean up the equipment. One time, she hands Luke his guitar and their hands met. They both blush but quickly part before Reggie could see what transpired.

They sneak little casual touches here and there, both to gauge if the other person reciprocates their feelings and to hide whatever was going on between them from Reggie.

This all coming from the fear of Reggie flipping out on them.

Apparently when the boys bring up Nick from Julie’s class, joking about the way he was starry-eyed when dancing with Julie (secretly trying to get a rise out of Luke), Reggie immediately asks Julie about a thousand questions:

“Who is he? What does he do?”

“Do? He’s a student. In my grade...”

“Oh. No job? So he’s a deadbeat, huh? Doesn’t sound like a suitable match,”

“What are you going on about?”

“Does he like the Star Wars Prequels? Yes or No? There is a right answer”

“What does this have to do with anything, Reggie?”

“I need to know if he’s good enough for you!”

Reggie starts watching Nick like a hawk at school, going out of his way to intimidate the junior (well as much as he could. he’s still pretty much a puppy and super non-threatening).

It’s getting ridiculous.

So Julie goes to talk to Luke, to try and nip this in the bud before Reggie notices their weird behavior. She manages to play off needing help to get something in the laundry room to get him alone without suspicion.

“Look, we can’t do this anymore... whatever this is,”

Luke nods, “Agreed. Reggie’s my best friend.”

“And he’s my brother,”

“I don’t want to do something that would upset him,”

“Me neither. Glad we’re on the same page,”

“Right. Same page. So just friends. Deal?” she sticks her hand out.

He shakes it, “Deal,”

They lock eyes, appreciating how the other one looks under the warm dimmed light.

It takes only about .5 seconds for them to crash their lips onto each other’s, igniting a full on make out session. And by the time they finished, they realize their mistake.

Uh oh.

They can’t go back after this.

Now they really have something to hide from Reggie.

They sneak around the house, whenever they could.

Luke would make up an excuse to grab water or go to the bathroom in the middle of rehearsal, just to sneak up to Julie’s room to grab a quick kiss and maybe a small tickle fight just so he could hear that laugh he loves so much.

And Julie would join the boys at the dinner table, sitting next to him and discreetly slipping cue love notes into his pocket that she knows would make him blush and smile all goofily later (and if they turn into potential song lyrics? Well that's for them to know).

Alex warns Luke the next day, “I think he’s catching on. Be more careful,”

They spend more time together now that Julie starts writing songs for the band. Her and Luke would huddle over the piano, scribbling the night away, always sitting dangerously close to each other.

Once, Reggie observes them quietly from the couch with an unreadable expression on bis face.

“We are careful,”

Bobby raises an eyebrow at him, “Really? You tried to pass off the hickeys on Julie’s neck as rashes.”

“And Reggie bought it, remember? He went out and got ointment for her and everything,”

“He’s not stupid, Luke. You better do something about this. Fast,”

Luke sighs, “You’re right.”

Later that night, Luke pulls Julie into the upstairs bathroom, the one between her room and Reggie’s, to talk.

“Jules, as much I want to keep doing this... I can’t stand lying to Reggie,”

“Me too,” she says, “So, let’s just tell him. I don’t like hiding you.”

“But we need to plan it out. We can’t just spring it on him,”

“Catch him in a good mood hopefully, and we’ll tell him together,”

“Sounds like a plan, boss,”

“Love it when you call me boss,” Julie smiles, angling her head up to kiss him.

Just then, the door connecting to Reggie’s room bursts open and the said bassist enters in his bathrobe. His eyes grow wide at the sight of them tangled up in each other.

“What is going on here?”

The couple breaks apart. Julie and Luke jump to opposite sides of the bathroom, hands up in surrender.

“You didn’t lock the doors?” Julie hisses at Luke

“Was not my main priority!” Then Luke steps forward in an attempt to calm Reggie down, “Hey, Reg, pal, um, what you just saw-”

“You guys were kissing in here?” he yells.

Julie and Luke lower their heads, “...yeah,”

Reggie sighs, throwing his hands up in the air, “Unbelievable!”

“Reggie, we’re sorry-”

“In the bathroom, really? Can’t you guys do this in the laundry room like you usually do? My toothbrush is here, come on!”

Wait. What?

Did they hear him correctly?

“You knew?!” Julie all but screamed at her brother.

“Duh. You’re not really subtle,”

Luke splutters, “B-But Nick-”

“Found out real quick that he’s not the one I should be worried about,”

“And the... the, well..?” Julie gestures lamely at her neck, “Why did you get me ointment?”

Reggie smirks, “Just to mess with you.”

“So... you’re not mad?”

“Nah. Like I said. I need to make sure whatever guy you end up with, Jules, is good enough for you. And, well, I’ve known Luke almost all my life. And I trust him. Honestly, there’s no other guy I could think of that could be a better match for you.”

Luke’s hand rests on his shoulder, “You mean that, Reg?”

“Of course. I’m happy for you guys. But uh...” he sticks his thumb towards the door, “Could you like skip on out of here. I did come to the bathroom for a reason.”

“Oh, right,”

“Your Tia’s chicken went right through me-”

“Ok, Reggie! We’re leaving!”

“But one more thing,”

Luke and Julie stop in the doorway leading to the hallway.

“If you think I’m bad,” Reggie shakes his head, “Try breaking the news to Carlos,”

Luke pales, “Oh no,”

“’Oh no’ is right,”

The couple spins around to find Carlos in the hallway, arms crossed, staring them down, “Care to explain why you two were in the bathroom?”

“Well, uh, um, we were-” Luke turns to Julie, but the girl is nowhere to be found, having already yeeted to her room to escape an overprotective Carlos.

Luke throws a pleading look at Reggie, “A little help here, buddy?”

Meanwhile, Carlos is unamused, carrying so much tension in his small body that it has Luke gulping nervously.

“Nope you’re on your own,” he winks, “Make sure to tell him about the ‘rash’ while you’re at it.”

And with a laugh, the bathroom door closes.

“I can explain...”

#julie and luke sneaking around #is so much fun to write #and reggie being like bruhh #you think i'm stupid?#nah #julie x luke #luke x julie #juke #julie molina #luke patterson #reggie peters #reggie peters-molina #jatp hc #asks #blue answers asks

117 notes · View notes

pars-ley · 3 years

Text

VOID

Pairing: Jackson x female reader ft Yugyeom x female reader

Summary: Jackson ending it with you was supposed to be for the best, but instead it spirals you into a pit of unhappiness and bad luck. What happens when meeting someone new can't compare to what you've already had?

Genre: Angst / break up au / established relationship au / marriage au / fluff

Rating: 16+ (SFW)

Warnings: Heavy Angst / swearing / some depression and depressive thoughts

Word count: 6.1k

A/N: This is for the flight log project with @got7writerscollective the prompt was ‘The Journey’. This is also unedited because as last minute Ley strikes again I didn’t have time. Thank you to everyone from the net who read this and wrote their reactions to this in the channel, you guys made my heart super happy.

Meeting Jackson wasn't planned but it happened.

A shy glance from the table across from you and you knew he was interested. All it took was one smile and he was at your table asking to join you.

Your conversation, free and absorbed and never ending.

The late night dates for dinner or to the movies, with walks in the park watching the sunset fade and the inky sky take over as you stroll in the moonlight hand in hand.

The early morning coffee stops that made you smile as soon as your eyes opened and you wiped the sleep from them. Just knowing you would see his handsome face and be on the mercy of his playful banter.

Every moment you were together felt like home.

Falling for him wasn't your intention but it happened.

The silly things he would do to try and cheer you up when you were sad, even if he made himself look like a fool, he didn't care as long as you smiled.

The long, hot nights of steamy love making that always took your breath away, as he explored your body until he knew it better than you. Prying his name from your lips more than once during those pleasure filled nights. Never tiresome or boring.

The quick lunch dates when he made it to the top of his career, bringing him lunch when you knew he had no time to eat but he still made time for you, no matter how busy he was.

Something had clicked fairly early on and you knew he was the one you wanted to spend your life with.

You fell hard and fast, your feelings never fading in four years, your love and lust for him still in abundance and only growing day by day.

Now suddenly, everything you've built together so solidly, so secure, has come crumbling down in front of you from six words...

"I think we should end this."

They echo like a distant voice concaved in a tunnel of stone desperate to escape, like you are. You struggle to find the end, to see the light, to feel the relief of being out of that darkness.

You feel like your drowning, gasping for air, fighting your way to the surface. But which was it? How can you get there when his words are the ocean, smothering you with its liquid jaws.

"Why?" You squeak out, fighting the tears that desperately fight their way out.

His eyebrows knit together as he watches your face. "Because I cannot give you what you want."

You shake your head, lower lip trembling fiercely. "I can wait, it's ok, I'll wait." You hear the desperation in your voice and the sound makes you sick.

"Baby, I don't know when I'll be ready, I'm finally where I want to be in my career and I've got to work hard, long hours to stay here. There's no place for children. It's not fair to ask you to wait."

"Y-your not asking. I'm t-telling you, I'll wait." You whimper, tears spilling from your eyes.

He sighs and wipes your tears away, his own eyes glassy and bloodshot. "And what if I'm never ready? You have always told me how important being a mother is to you. I will not be the one to take that away from you. I can't. I need to let you go. To let you find someone who can give you the things I can't."

Your tears fall freely now, feeling hot on your cheeks but the trails quickly turning cold in the air. Your body shivers uncontrollably, blood feeling like ice in your veins.

"But I-I don't want anyone else." You argue, the sound is petty, hardly audible.

You're losing, you know it. He's slipping through your fingers no matter how much you try to grasp at him.

"I don't either, but I think this will be better for you in the long run. I don't want to lead you on a road of disappointment because of my selfishness." He plants a long, lingering kiss on your forehead. "I'm sorry. I love you."

Before walking away and out of the door.

You crumple, your cheek finding semblance against the cold, hard floor. That's it. He's gone. You're alone.

6 months later…

The letters on the newspaper practically fly out and slap you in the face. The gaping hole he left in your chest when he took your heart with him begins pulsing with fresh agony.

Your emotions rush at you all at once, coming up and escaping from your mouth and into the kitchen sink.

The emptiness of your stomach feeling heavy as a rock, weighing you down, urging you to greet the floor. Your legs wobble under your weight as silent tears fall, leaving clear splashes on the mahogany wood under your feet.

Why is this happening? How?

So many questions, so many thoughts swirl in your mind, deafening you.

You get up from your chair and shuffle weakly back to bed, unable to face anything today.

Your phone rings wildly but you ignore it, the sound growing more distant the more your thoughts and woes consume you. Your friends have probably seen the news, they'll be worrying. Let them.

Climbing under the duvet and hoping to forget the world as your tears fall, staining your pillow, you see the print inked on the back of your eyelids. Everytime you close your eyes, it's there mocking and tormenting you.

"Millionaire CEO Jackson Wang expecting first child with Swedish actress and model, Scarlett Borgsson."

The blanket of sadness you pull over yourself, reminding you how much you still love him. Meaning he's never truly gone and you will never be truly free.

He's moved on. You should too.

But right now all you can envision is his hands on her swollen belly.

A child with his smile and her eyes.

Your chest aches agonizingly beyond belief for one that’s so empty and useless.

For three weeks you stay locked away, ignoring the world, hardly sleeping and then sleeping too much. Hardly eating but then binging late at night, when you eat in an attempt to ignore the screaming inside your head and the pain piercing your ribcage.

You remember real life. Your job, money, bills, friends. And you pull yourself out of the dark void. The thick shadow that clings to you, constantly pulling you back, giving you the easy and very tempting option. But you fight it.

You shower and wash your hair. You attempt to eat normally but food doesn’t interest you, everything has lost its flavour, everything is bland, tasteless and black and white without him.

You sleep during the day and lie awake at night, attempting work on your sculptures, everything you create shows heartbreak, devastation and sadness. But it'll have to do.

A deadline for an exhibition is rapidly approaching and you need to get back to some semblance of normality. To think about something other than him. To be productive and to work.

3 months later…

You stroll around the room, watching as people critique and fathom your artwork, listening to the theories and stories they invent. This is the best part.

No one knows you created these pieces. You can go undiscovered and walk among people, no fake niceties or pleasantries, just honesty.

You feel happiness creeping into you, filling your empty places with a new fulfilment, one you haven't felt in so long.

It's the moment you hear a familiar voice that every part of you freezes.

Any emotion other than dread or heartbreak leaves your body instantly, running away leaving you empty again. Your blood turns to ice in your veins. GET OUT OF HERE! You scream to yourself, willing your feet to move but suddenly, they feel chained to the spot, your body betraying you.

You manage to turn towards your escape, his face entering your view and masking everything else.

Just as handsome, just as perfect as he was when he was yours. Dark hair swept back not a strand out of place, a flawless fitted suit that shows off every muscle and curve of his chiseled body.

You take a step to the doors with the bright red ‘EXIT’ above them but as soon as you move it's almost as if he senses it. His head snapping in your direction following your movement. His eyes lighting up for a moment the way they used to, a small glimmer of hope flares inside you, maybe he still loves you, maybe he realises this has all been a mistake.

Until, a swollen belly makes its way into your eyeline and it all comes crashing down like a thousand shards of glass, as a reminder where you belong. Wounded and bleeding with unreciprocated love.

You finally tear your eyes away from his to look at her. All slim legs and breasts, nipples braless and pointing aggressively at Jackson.

Her small, pregnant stomach is perfect; the envy of every expectant mother. A perfect set of teeth behind full lips smile at all of those around her.

Long blonde hair shimmering, strands reflecting the light as if purposefully trying to blind you.

You’re not good enough to even be looking at her, they tell you.

Something else glinting catches your attention and your eyes immediately travel to her left hand. On her boney ring finger sat a rock the size of a baby's fist, glaring at you, teasing you. Of course. The cherry on top of a fantastic year.

Jackson follows your gaze and when you meet his eyes again he stares at you with wide eyes and a sorrow brow. A hand outreached towards you.

A bitter taste in your mouth at his pity sends your feet pulling you away and out of the room. You’re out of those doors before you know it, cold air whipping at your face but you barely feel it. You’re numb, unable to form the energy to feel and yet feeling everything so deeply, all at once. You want to scream into the night sky. Wondering what it is you’ve done in a past life that was so awful to deserve this.

8 months later…

Meeting yugyeom wasn't planned but it happened.

An aspiring artist featured alongside you in one of your exhibitions. You got along instantly.

The first time in a long time holding a conversation or getting to know someone didn't feel like hard work.

You both ran in the same creators circle, you had a lot in common so naturally you become fast friends.

You weren't sure when it changed for you, when it became something slightly more, but you did know he was the sweetest, purest soul you'd met and you couldn't let him slip through your fingers.

Jackson still ran through your mind constantly of course, using you as his own personal treadmill. His face still haunting your dreams, memories still sneaking up on you when you least expect it.

You'd caught headlines about his baby or wedding but most of the time you avoided everything about him completely. Not wishing to know anything about his life, for fear the pain would return and your chest would open up and become the gaping, black hole it used to be.

Yugyeom deserves your full attention and your whole heart, what was salvaged of it at least.

After he moves in with you it's all late nights cuddling on the sofa, early morning runs through the local park, dinner parties with friends and holidays to new destinations having adventures.

Yugyeom being with you means having your best friend around. He makes you feel safe and comforted, the wall of heat when you get home after a long day out in the cold. The blanket around you when watching your favourite movie. The bubbles that surround you in the bathtub when having a relaxing soak. He is your solace.

"Marry me." He whispers in your ear with his arms wrapped around your stomach.

You freeze, stirring the vegetables in the pan no longer matters once you hear those words.

A million thoughts race through your mind, one jumps out.

I thought it would be Jackson saying those words to me.

You catch it and toss it out the open window allowing it to be carried in the breeze. Jackson is married and has a child, he is gone.

Yugyeom stands behind you, cradling you and offers you his heart on a silver platter with all the trinkets.

No matter what expectation you had for your life before, you're on a new path now. A path that deserves a chance.

You turn in his arms, wrapping yours around his neck and bringing your lips to his, dancing in a mellow kiss.

"Is that a yes?" His mouth smiles against you, hands either side of your face, tucking hair behind your ears.

"Yes."

He beams at you, pulling a ring box out of his pocket and presenting it to you.

A large, gaudy diamond wrapped in a thin, gold band. None of your jewellery is gold, in fact, you detest it but this man has given you his heart, the least you can do is wear the ring he's bought.

He slides it on your finger. Looking down at your hand, you don't recognise it, it looks alien like it belongs to someone else. But you smile and kiss him until you're a tangled mess on the kitchen floor, dinner long burnt and forgotten.

9 months later…

You stand central to everyone, rows of packed seating behind you, eyes focused just on the two of you as you both recite your vows.

Looking around at the decorations you never would have picked, it's far too showy and glitzy for your taste but Yugyeom's mother had insisted, including what type of dress you should wear.

Not wanting to start a new life with atmosphere and anger, you opt with keeping your mouth shut and hoping for a quiet life.

She practically planned it all, even told you who your bridesmaids would be.

You sat there watching everyone around you move at a different speed, as if you were stuck in syrup and unable to catch up.

All you could do is watch, watch as your wedding and life was planned for you.

An alarm bell sounded in your head, screaming at you 'it's not right' but Yugyeom would come into view and give you a smile that would cloud all your fears and ease your worry.

Now the second alarm bell sounds as you stand here, on your wedding day, in a dress you hate, with Jackson's sweet smiling face staring back at you instead.

Somehow having replaced Yugyeom.

You look around frantically but no one else seems bothered by the silent exchange. Panic seizes your heart. This should not be what you're thinking of on this day. You blink furiously, shoving him out of your mind, willing him to disappear.

Yugyeom's face returns and you breathe a sigh of relief.

***

The ceremony is over. Husband and wife.

You greet everyone with their grins and cheers, finding yourself smiling with too much teeth, too much enthusiasm you don't feel inside.

Shouldn't you feel happier than this? You finally have a husband. You're finally somebody's wife. Why don't you have that instant feeling of completion? You should be jumping for joy right now. Instead you feel...normal, like you do on any other day. Maybe it just hasn't set in yet, maybe you just need a few days. So you wait. And wait. And wait.

That feeling doesn't come, not after your honeymoon in which you became restless, quickly realizing there is nothing else to do apart from lay on a beach and have sex.

Your busy mind grows louder, screaming at you, but you ignore it and swallow it down into the pit where it belongs.

Upon returning from your week in the sun, you settle quickly into a mundane routine together. Easy, calm and comforting. Some might say boring, some might even say mind numbingly dull.

But you continue on day to day…

"I want one." He says nodding towards the screen.

"What? A new tv?"

He laughs and points. "No, a baby."

You look up at the advert for nappies, a baby grinning with two little teeth protruding from his gum, big cheeks and a bald head.

Your heart stops, stutters then slams into your ribcage repeatedly. A baby. That's all you've wanted, a little version of yourself. A little bundle of joy to love unconditionally.

But is now the right time?

"Are you sure you don't want to wait a little while?"

"Wait for what? We're married, why waste time?" He clings to your hands enveloped in his.

He makes a good point. What are you waiting for?

You've already wasted enough time being with Jackson, hoping one day he'd be having this exact conversation with you.

Then spending your days after him wallowing in heartbreak and self pity.

You have the opportunity to live out your dreams with someone giving you the chance to, literally holding his hand out ready for you to take and walk the path with.

"Let's do it." You nod.

1 year later…

Your period is a week late.

You have been regular as clockwork since the day you started trying for a baby. Every month, the disappointment is undeniable when you see the crimson shade in your underwear. And every month you have to will yourself not to give up, to keep trying. Another month of ovulating tests, scheduled sex on precise days and times and legs in the air after, an attempt to help mother nature as much as you can.

Needless to say the excitement radiates off you in waves.

You rush home from work, pregnancy test in your bag, hardly able to contain yourself.

Yugyeom at the door, as excited as you, waiting and ready.

"Are you going to do it now?" He asks following your every footstep to the bathroom.

"Yes."

You shut the door and open the package, reading the instructions carefully. You'd drunk about a litre of water on the way home, your legs clenched together to stop you wetting yourself.

You sit down on the toilet and take a deep breath.

Once it's done you open the door for Yugyeom. Both of you sitting on the tiled floor staring up at the bright white stick resting on the sink. Gazing up at it like it holds all your answers, like suddenly life would make sense seeing those two red lines.

You've never realised how long two minutes is, you wring your hands nervously in your lap until he cups them in his, squeezing you reassuringly.

Your alarm goes off on your phone signalling the end of waiting and your heart pounds frantically in your chest.

He leans over and grabs the test.

"You ready?" He asks.

You take a breath and nod. Ready to see those two red lines. Ready to call your doctors and set up your appointments and scans. Ready to make a list of baby names and shop for all the necessities.

One line. Yugyeom shows you the test, with its mocking one line and your smile drops, so does your stomach. How? How could this be negative?

"Wait a minute, it says on here 'for the most accurate result use the first urine sample of the day as there will be a higher concentration of hCG.'" He looks over at you, a hesitant, optimistic smile plays across his mouth.

Yes. That's true. You cling onto that with every fibre of your being and agree to do the other test first thing in the morning.

***

As soon as your eyes open your mind is there, on that test in the bathroom. You climb enthusiastically out of bed, all traces of drowsiness vanish, as you tiptoe quietly to the bathroom.

If you do the test, then while you wait you can wake Yugyeom and you can both look at it together.

You quietly close the door and prepare the test, your fingers fumbling with excitement as you tear open the packet.

As you pull your underwear down, stick poised and ready, red catches your eye in your otherwise white bathroom. You look down, only to be greeted with your monthly agony, here to haunt you once more.

The test falls to the floor. It's useless now anyway. You're not pregnant, never was and likely never will be.

You let your head fall into your hands and let your misery wash over you. Tears stream down your face as dismay feels like it infects your soul with a never ending sadness.

A heavy cloud smothers you in a blanket of sorrow, choking the air from your lungs...you have no idea how long you stay in that bathroom before Yugyeom finds you. But you feel no better when he does and cradles you in his arms.

5 months later...

"When are you going to admit to yourself that it's not me you want?" His voice sounds into the silence and you resist the urge to roll your eyes.

The weekly fights he starts are almost timed like clockwork.

"What are you talking about?" You reply, continuing to type your ideas for your new art show.

"I've seen the way you look at Mark when you're working on your art pieces." He spits, slamming his drink down on the table.

This catches your attention. You close your laptop and swing your feet off the couch, heading over to the cupboard to pour yourself a Gin.

If you were going down this path, you needed a drink.

"Mark at the gallery?"

"Yes 'Mark at the gallery.'" He mocks you and you fight the urge to laugh.

"Dear, Mark is gay. I can assure you I look at him the same way I do all my other colleagues." You take a sip of your drink, eyes fixed on him.

He frowns for a moment then waves a hand in the air dismissing your statement. "I don't care about Mark."

"Then what do you care about Yugyeom, aside from starting fights with me?"

He stands abruptly from his seat, the wooden chair legs screeching across your wooden flooring making you wince.

"Do you ever ask yourself why I start these fights?" He shouts, a vein bulging in his neck.

"You start them because you like to get drunk on Friday's, and when you get drunk, you get mean." You say matter-of-factly, recalling all of the horrible things he's said to you lately, things you never thought could have come from his sweet mouth, things you won't forget.

His eyes pop in surprise as he's taken aback by your answer. "N-no," he sighs, returning to his chair, suddenly looking drunker than he seems. "I start fights because it feels like the only time I have your attention lately."

Guilt pangs inside you, pulling at your chest. You take a seat next to him and place your hand gently on top of his, the action feeling alien nowadays.

"I've had a hard time since we stopped trying for a baby." You admit.

"I never wanted to stop in the first place!" He yells, snatching his hand from yours. "That was your choice and you made it alone!"

"Because I can't keep putting myself through it! Can't you understand that?" You snap back, finally being open about your feelings, knowing it will only fall on deaf ears.

"I want children!"

"And you think I don't? I can't handle this pressure you put on me! You know my ovulation schedule more than I do."

"Because you never want to have sex anymore!"

"Because you've taken the fun out of it, it feels like a fucking chore! I'm not here for you to enter at your leisure to deposit your seed. What happened to spontaneity, romance, foreplay for god's sake? You're like a man possessed!" Your hands grip around the glass to stop them from trembling with anger. Finally being able to release the words that have been pent up inside you for the last five months.

Without a word he stands and walks to the front door, snatching his jacket up along the way. "I understand Jackson more now."

Hearing Yugyeom say his name, you freeze.

"Maybe he just knew you couldn't give him what he wanted." He says, looking over at you with watery, hate filled eyes before leaving, slamming the door behind him.

Your glass follows in an instant, smashing against the closed door, clear liquid and glass decorating the entrance to your apartment. Maybe you'll leave it there for him to step on when he comes home even drunker later.

An angry tear escapes as you sit here feeling trapped in your own home, wanting to be anywhere but here, anywhere but have to deal with your husband anymore tonight.

The word 'husband' feels foreign in your mind and on your tongue.

Nothing has felt right for the better part of eight months. You hardly talk to each other and when you do it's mostly fights and angry words spat or slurred in the other's direction. This is no way to live.

What you had given him of your damaged, used heart has slowly come back to you. With every alarm bell you hear ringing, every hurtful word sprayed in your direction, your heart has winced its way back to you. Putting up its own defense, from every barb that's thrown your way is turned into a wire fence, wrapping it in a sharp, pointed cage of protection.

***

Yugyeom doesn't show his face until the next afternoon, coming home looking rather sheepish.

"We need to talk." He says quietly.

The four words everyone dreads to hear.

You know what's coming, you've felt it for a while, it still doesn't ease the pain in your chest as you listen to his every word.

As you both apologise for your part in the break down of your short marriage, admitting maybe it was rushed from the start and accepting the fact that maybe you're not right for each other.

Two hours later and countless tears from the two of you, you both decide to call it a day. Even though you care deeply for each other, it's time to admit defeat. You have tried and given it your best shot.

"The worst part about this…" you say, wiping at your constant stream of tears. "I feel like i'm losing my best friend."

He pulls you into a tight, warm embrace, "hey, you are not losing me, I will always be here for you. We'll still see each other plenty at work events too. You can't get rid of me that easily."

You laugh, feeling thankful that you met him and thankful that you gave him a part of yourself, you had meant every word of your vows when you said them and you too would always be here for him. He'll always have a part of your heart to take with him, not that there's much left for yourself now.

2 months later….

A cup of morning coffee and reading the Sunday paper has become a routine you rather enjoy. You relax with your feet up on the dining table, crossed ankles.

You flick through anything that doesn't interest you, when a name catches your eye, drawing you to the headline.

"Jackson Wang scandal: Millionaire files for divorce from Scarlett Borgsson."

Your eyes pop. Scandal? What scandal?

You grab your phone and type his name into your search engine. You click on the first link and skim through.

"Model Scarlett Borgsson reportedly had an affair early on in the couple's relationship. An insider reveals she is now demanding a DNA test for their two year old little boy."

Your stomach drops as you click the next link.

"Jackson Wang revealed not to be Father of Scarlett Borgsson's son."

You read through story after story saying the same thing. How had you missed this?

You pick up your phone and dial the number to his office without even thinking.

You can't imagine how he feels right now, all you want to do is reach out and let him know he has someone he can talk to.

When the receptionist's voice sounds in your ear, you now doubt if he'd want that person to be you. You lose your nerve and hang up.

Your heart aches for him. Maybe it shouldn't but it does. No matter what he's done or how he's upset you, he does not deserve this.

You feel severe hate for that woman, thinking back to the last time you saw them both in the flesh.

The way she smiled arrogantly at everyone, as if they should all bend to her will with a flick of her hair or a swish of her hips.

Your stomach churns.

For the next few nights, your thoughts are consumed of Jackson as you toss and turn restlessly in bed. Maybe you'll gather the courage to speak to him…maybe not.

7 months later…

"You look good." Yugyeom says as you smooth down your pale blue dress.

"Thank you, so do you." You smile at him, looking at his impeccably tailored suit.

"It's nice to see you."

"Yes, it's been a while." You agree.

You do the usual catch up chit-chat until it dies down, he even introduces you to his date who seems like a very sweet and pleasant lady.

The newly wed couple enter the hall and cheers erupt all around, echoes bouncing off the wall. You cannot stop the grin that stretches across your face as you watch them take the centre of the floor for their first dance.

You'd known Jasmine since you were children, you'd always been inseparable. Your mothers were best friends growing up so naturally you spent a lot of time together.

Seeing her in the intricate, elegant wedding gown smiling up at her groom, elation in her eyes makes your heart smile. The joy you feel for her is stronger than most happiness you've felt for yourself.

Watching the sheer adoration in Jinyoung's eyes warms the deepest, darkest pit of your heart. They are so right for each other it's sickening.

You wonder briefly if you ever looked at Yugyeom like that and can collectively say 'no'. You two are the perfect example of two people almost forcing yourselves to be more than friends. You wouldn't change the time with him and you definitely learnt a lot from your marriage.

Jinyoung twirls her before bringing her back in close. You know him through Jackson, they had met at uni and become fast friends. As far as you were aware they remain that way.

But you haven't seen him here, not that you were hopeful he'd come.

The evening continues on, through dinner, speeches and finally opens up to the party.

The loud music pounds through you, realising you've had a little too much to drink you decide to step outside on the balcony and get some fresh air.

The gentle breeze skates across your skin leaving a delicate trail of goosebumps across your skin.

A jacket drapes your shoulders, an all too familiar scent intoxicating your senses, as your head snaps to the side to see him.

Jackson.

All this time you've thought about him and pictured him, your memory had not done him justice. He looks flawless, his hair swept back perfectly as usual, his smooth skin and unguarded eyes welcoming you. His soft lips stretch into a hesitant smile.

"I was hoping I'd see you."

Your heart flutters wildly in your chest making you feel light headed suddenly, although you don't show it. You take a breath and compose yourself.

"I wasn't sure if you'd come." You reply.

He takes his position next to you, shoulder brushing lightly against yours. How this man can still feel like home to you after all these years is mind boggling.

"I almost didn't. But Jinyoung told me you would be here as a bridesmaid and I couldn't stay away."

Your stomach flips dramatically at his words, large butterflies caged and desperate to escape.

"I'm sorry about your marriage." You say quickly.

He shrugs. "Thank you but I'm not."

You turn, raising a questioning eyebrow to him.

"She was not the person for me, let's put it that way."

"Why did you marry her then? 10 months after telling me that's not what you wanted." You jibe. You couldn't help it, anger threatening in the pit of your stomach at your same old reaction to him.

He sighs, hanging his head and rubbing his eyes. He looks tired, you hadn't noticed the dark circles under his eyes.

"I know, I know. That wasn't my plan. I meant what I said to you that day, every word." He looks behind you. "Can we sit?"

You follow his eyes to the ornate metal table and two chairs and nod.

Taking your seat with his jacket still draped around your shoulders stare out at the sunset, pinks and oranges streaming across the sky. When you look back at Jackson he's already watching you, his eyes soft but pained.

"I'm so sorry. For everything."

He means it, that much you can tell.

"It's in the past now."

"But I don't want it to be." He reaches across for your hands, holding them so tight his knuckles start going white. "There hasn't been a day that's gone by that I haven't thought about you, that I haven't obsessed about that moment I let you go. I'd give anything to change it you know, anything, but I can't. I truly wanted you to find happiness and I thought I was doing the right thing by you, giving you a chance without me holding you back."

You laugh, the sound almost bitter. "And yet, happiness still eludes me."

His eyebrows knit together in sorrow. "When I met my ex wife, it was a casual thing, nothing more. When she told me she was pregnant my world changed overnight. I didn't know what to do. All I could think about was you. It was supposed to be you having my babies one day, not this woman. I wanted to run to you then but how would you ever want me?"

He brings your hands up to his face and rubs his cheek along your fingers.

"My mother pressured me into marrying her, told me how it would look for someone in my position, said I'd lose everything. So I proposed, the words tasted like ash in my mouth but it was done. Then when I saw you at your art show, I almost came over and ended it all right then and there. But when I saw the tears in your eyes I couldn't bear the thought I'd done that to you. I felt so ashamed and I knew it was over."

You want to comfort him, to reach out and cup his cheek but you resist, letting him finish what he's so desperate to say.

"Then I heard you got married and I was happy for you, truly, I thought maybe I had done the right thing by you after all. Then all this shit came out about the affair and everything collapsed around me. All I wanted was to talk to you, like we used to, those late night talks where we would really open up. God, I craved that."

You squeeze his hand and he straightens a little, seeming a bit less dejected.

"When Jinyoung told me you'd gotten a divorce I was shocked and felt responsible somehow. He seems like a good guy by the way, he gave me one hell of a lecture about not hurting you as soon as I walked in."

You laugh and look through the double doors to see Yugyeom watching the two of you intently as he moves side to side on the dance floor with his date.

"He is a good man. Just not the right one for me."

The hope in Jackson's eyes could not be more obvious.

"I have to ask you something." He says leaning forward on the table, the action creaking the old iron underneath the weight on his elbows. "Could we start again? I know I don't deserve your forgiveness but I would like to try and earn it."

Mulling it over in your mind, you feel yourself nodding before your thoughts are even processed. But the resulting smile that lights up his face has you knowing your decision is not a mistake.

He leans in and strokes your face. "It's always been you."

Those words reiterating how you feel are like music to your soul. You feel at ease for the first time in a long time, your broken pieces mending and your heart more hopeful than it has been in a long time.

#got7writerscollective #flightlogproject #GOT7 fanfiction #got7 fanfic #got7 #jackson wang #got7 jackson wang #jackson #got7 jackson #got7 jackson fanfic #got7 jackson fanfiction #jackson angst #got7 angst #got7 yugyeom #yugyeom

82 notes · View notes

whompingweasley · 3 years

Text

The Perfect Team

George Weasley x Reader

Brief Authors Note: Hello there! Welcome to my new (and first ever) blog! This is my first time writing a fanfic for tumblr, it is my first time writing a fanfic at all! Soooo it might not be the best but I had a blast writing it and I hope someone out there enjoys it! I wanted to create a more domestic type story with George, because I absolutely love the idea of him as a dad. I am still trying to figure out how tumblr works, and I am hoping to learn as I continue on with this blog, but for now please bear with me! Thank you so much, and enjoy!

Summary: Your husband George Weasley comes home from work to his loving wife and daughter after a long day. His wife, noticing his increased stress and sleep deprivation, offers him some much needed love and support.

Word Count: 1.6k

“Look, mummy, look!” shouted the small, redheaded girl, flailing her tiny arms in the air as she danced to a jazzy tune coming from the record player. With her long, golden red hair and beautiful freckled face, she was the spitting image of her father, and your husband, George Weasley.

It had been six years since the Battle of Hogwarts, and as much pain as the aftermath brought you, your friends, and your family, the years that followed were some of the happiest of your life. Shortly after the battle (and not wanting to waste any time) you married the love of your life, whom you had been with since your 5th year at Hogwarts. A year later, you gave birth to a beautiful baby girl; your daughter, Vivian Molly Weasley. Now you are the happiest you’ve ever been, living in a lovely flat in Diagon Alley, with your loving husband and the gorgeous child the two of you created.

“Wow, Vivi! Look at you!” You exclaim, pulling your eyes away from the pan on the stove containing your dinner for three. “I think you have real talent, my love.” you say, walking over to your daughter and pulling her into your embrace, kissing her cheek. “You hungry?” you ask, brushing an auburn lock from her face. She nods, causing the same lock to fall back into its original position.

“When will daddy be home?” Vivian asks, eyeing the stove, admiring the delicious dinner you have prepared for your family.

“Should be any minute now.”

Just as those words escaped your lips, you hear the rattling of keys, followed by the turning of the front door knob, eliciting an excited squeal from your daughter. The door opens to reveal a tall, handsome, ginger man; your man. He appears tired from a day's work at the joke shop, but over the moon excited to see his two favorite girls.

“Daddy! Daddy!” shouts Vivian, full of excitement as she dashes from across the room, and into your husband's arms.

“Hey, princess!” George bends, picking up his daughter and spinning her around. He plants rapid kisses on each of her cheeks and her head, releasing a combination of both their giggles into the air. You watch from the kitchen, admiring the love the two have for each other, and thinking to yourself “how did I get so lucky?”

George sets Vivian down, and she scurries off into the living room, mumbling something about a new toy she got earlier that day. George saw this as the perfect opportunity to greet his beautiful wife.

“Hey, mama” George pulls you in for a quick, but deep, kiss; a kiss he has given you thousands of times, yet still makes your knees weak. “How are you, darling?” he says, pulling his lips from yours, still holding you in his tight embrace.

“Alright,” you wrap your arms around his neck. “Happy that you’re home. I missed you.” You lean in for another kiss.

“I missed you too. And how was Viv today? Cause any trouble?” You and your husband look over to see your daughter, curled up on the floor, her little voice changing octaves as she imitates a conversation between two of her stuffed animals.

“Oh, yeah. She wreaked havoc.” you say, sarcastically, eliciting a chuckle from your husband as you glance back at your daughter. “No, she was an absolute angel, as always.” You direct your eyes to meet George’s. “And how was your day, darling?” you ask softly, caressing his cheek.

“It was good - tiring, but good. We got a massive shipment today. Gonna have to test some products over the weekend, I reckon.” You gaze into your husband's eyes. You noticed what used to be so full of life, and energy, had become more and more strained over the past few weeks. You knew work was weighing on him, however you weren’t aware of the extremity of his fatigue until just now.

Swiping your thumbs along the dark circles under his eyes, you open your mouth to speak. “Dinner should be ready in just a minute. You must be starving.”

You and your little family sit down to enjoy supper; the most important meal in your household for it was the only meal of the day in which you could enjoy all together. Amidst the jokes, laughs, and silly stories shared by Vivian (like father, like daughter), you couldn’t help but lock eyes with George every so often. Judging by his tired eyes, loving glances and smirks, and the way he frequently brushed his leg against yours under the table, you could tell tonight was one of those nights where George needed extra love and affection. You gave him a smile, in which he returned, and reached for his hand to give it a gentle squeeze, letting him know you were there as he tried his hardest to listen attentively to his daughter's rambles.

“Daddy! Are you listening?” Vivian asked, playfully swatting her dad's arm.

George quickly snapped out of the trance prompted by the beauty of his wife, and turned his attention back to his daughter. “Of course, baby. And then what happened?”

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

As the evening grew late, you found yourself curled up on the couch with your two favorite people, finishing a movie that Vivian had picked. You were tucked under your husband's left arm; your daughter curled up on the other side of him, latched onto his arm. George turned his head to check on her.

“Looks like the little one’s asleep.” George declared. You sat up to see for yourself. You, nor George, could resist Vivian when she was asleep. Aside from finding it so undeniably adorable, you both treasured the way she laid, pressed against her dad's bicep, so peaceful, so calm; strands of ginger hair spread across her forehead. You sat together, admiring your beautiful creation for a moment until George spoke again. “How did we get so lucky?”

You buried your head in the crook of his neck, and let out a loud sigh, bringing your hand up to his firm chest. Reminding yourself of what occurred at dinner, you took this as the perfect opportunity to comfort and offer support to your stressed husband.

“Georgie?” You asked into his neck.

“Yes, my love?”

“When was the last time you got a good night's sleep.” You asked, concerned. For a second, he was silent, contemplating the question as if he could not recall the last time he had a decent sleep, which furthered your concern.

“Well...I can’t seem to remember.” he confessed, letting out a small chuckle which lightly shook his whole body. “I have just been so busy with work. Y’know, coming home late, waking up early, the whole ordeal. Why? Can you tell?”

You sat up to look at him, cupping his face in your hands, contemplating an answer that wouldn’t offend him.

“It’s alright, darling, I know I look like I’ve been hit by a bus.” He said, letting out the same soft chuckle as before. You laugh into his chest.

“Honey, I hate seeing you like this. Every night this week you’ve come home, absolutely drained. Is there anything you can do to maybe... take some time off? Or at least come home earlier a few nights a week? You work the shop from open to close. There has to be more people to take some shifts” You say, playing with his fingers.

“M’ afraid that’s the problem with running my own shop, darling.” He says, letting out a loud sigh. “It’s hard to find good employees when I really only trust myself to get the job done. And Fred-” He stops, fighting back tears. “We worked so hard for this. For the shop. I will do everything in my power to see all his dreams and ideas come to life. He deserves it. I just want to make him proud, y’know?”

At this point, your own tears began streaming down your cheeks. You kiss George’s cheek, pressing your forehead to the side of his. “Of course. He would be so proud of you Georgie. I am so proud of you.” George leans his head down, and you catch him in your hands, pulling him into your chest and caressing his hair. “I understand. But you have to stop doing everything on your own. It’s ok to ask for help. In fact, I could help out at the shop a few days out of the week. Help take the burden off you.”

George lets out a breathy laugh. “I would love that, actually. And I trust you more than anyone.” He said, looking up at you.

“I know. I think we’d make a great team.” He smirks, then lets out a very pronounced yawn against your chest. “For now, though, you must get some rest. I want you to go get ready for bed. I will handle the munchkin.” You carefully climb out of George's embrace, and scoop your daughter up. The movement wakes her from her deep sleep. She brings her little hands to her eyes to wipe the sleep away.

“Mummy?” She asks through squinted eyes.

“Shh, it’s ok baby. It’s time for bed, ok?” You kiss her forehead. George slowly gets up from the warmth of the couch to kiss his little girl goodnight.

He pulls her away from you to give her a tight squeeze. “Goodnight daddy.” Vivian says reaching for him, with a hint of grogginess in her voice.

“Goodnight my beautiful girl. I’ll see you in the morning, yeah? I love you.” Viv mumbled back what sounded like an “I love you too”, although it was muffled out by her burying her face back into her mom's shoulder. As you headed for your daughter's room, you turned back to George, mouthing an “I will be right in” as he headed for the room you two shared, looking back at his better half with the uttermost content.

#george wealsey x reader #harry potter #harry potter imagine #george weasley #sirius black #weasley #hogwarts #harry potter blurb #george weasley blurb #fred and george

47 notes · View notes

roguestarsailor · 3 years

Text

You know what since we’re still in quarantine and i have nothing else better to do, i need to obsess over ACOTAR. I don't like a court of frost and starlight. For the longest time I couldn't figure out why I didn't like it. I aggressively read the book in maybe a day and I closed it feeling frustrated and annoyed. My version had A Court of Silver Flames preview so that definitely contributed to my annoyance greatly.

It's because it felt too perfect. Everything that had happened -- after the entire war was fought and won, they just go back to their normal lives? Yes there were hiccups and yes there were still aspects that made every IC character feel like their problems aren’t solved yet...but it didnt feel right. yes i enjoyed the snowball fight between the bat boys, feyre + rhys sexy time, and those little comfort moments too, the slice of life type things and seeing feyre accomplishing her goals and how hopeful the future seems BUT its too fast. the good parts of the book did not offset the bad parts of it.

Feyre literally accomplished pretty much every single goal she made back in ACOMAF just like that?? within a span of what a few months? a year?? She really came back from an entire war -- probably the first war of many since she's immortal and just like that, after her 21st birthday: she gets a whole entire estate, wants to start poppin babies, opens her art studio and starts teaching kids and then acting like she can rule an entire court?? the timeline is sooo short esp since its been brought up over and over again how everyone is literally 500 years old and have a super “messy” history and their changes seems to come super dupe slowly. but feyre, who has only lived 0.000000002% of her fae life, is out here thriving just fine???

the war devastated thousands of illyrian soldiers where its changing the politics of the illyrains and the faes, all of whom feyre has responsibilities over too as high lady. the mortal queens are still at large who left the humans on prythian to die which is why feyre was willing to go to war in the first place! what about the rest of hybern and their land and residents?? they wanted to enslave humans for social and economical reasons! then what about integrating humans w deep hatred and fear with deeply prejudice fae??? there’s also spring and summer court who are literally in ruins. thats literally so much. so idk how feyre is just chillin???? she gonna let rhys do all the hard work???

like feyre sit down. u should not be having a baby. esp since it took u literally a 700 pages to heal from those 3 months UTM. ur telling me shes gonna whole heartedly bring in a newborn in a war devastated world, with civil unrest (illyrains, other courts), with the messiness of human and fae integration, with trauma u and rhys will have to continue to overcome esp after THIS war??? even helping ur sisters w their traumas??

this is a personal opinion on this subject (and maybe my thoughts will change on this later on; opened to other thoughts) but when i read the part about how that weaver/seamstress artist who made that dark quilt that feyre loved talked about how her mate of 300 years didn’t come back from the war and her biggest regret was that she didnt have a kid to remember him by i just thought ur kid isn’t some sort of memorabilia. don’t have a kid to keep the memory of ur mate alive; have a kid cuz u want a kid purely for the sake of having a kid. ur memories and photos and shit will keep their memory alive but its not having a kid. some primitive need to keep the genes alive maybe?? but the way it was phrased and then in turn how feyre was like oh i need a baby pronto cuz rhys might die in the next war and regret not having a kid with him didn’t sit right with me. also the other couple were together for +300 years and have a rich life together, while shes been with rhys for literally two years THATS NOTHING IN FAE YEARS. thats still the honeymoon phase and also ur problems arent even close to being over!!!

everyone was shitty to nesta. in ACOMAF, we saw how much the IC went through and still did all they could to help feyre. what made them not think nesta deserve the same welcome? nesta is mean as a defense but did no one try to figure out what would help (amren got close but shes so under developed)??? feyre knows nesta feels too much and yet she continued to be shitty. continued to flaunt her wealth, her status, her familiarity/borderline know-it-all attitude about fae/night court, her ~estate~. forcing nest to the solstice party when nesta was literally like i dont belong, im looking at everyone through a window type of thing; the fire cracking triggering her, etc. what kind of power play was that when she made nesta come to her estate, where nesta could SEE how ~homey~ and how suscessful feyre is and fully see all the lovely paintings of everyone feyre loves that explicitly exclude her to tell her to fuck off to a war camp?? bro???? cas was a dick too and elaine was rude. i think a lot of his actions were meant to make her angry since anger keeps u fighting (as was the method of rhys for feyre in ACOMAF) but what he said was stupidly shitty and i demand that he apologize properly. elaine could have done more to help her sister but whatever. mor was definitely an ass too (and im upset for how little her character growth is).

Lucein. that man can’t catch a break tbh. im happy that hes w the band of exiles cuz he is whole heartedly accepted there. feyre was definitely an asshole to him even tho he helped as much as he could throughout the books. he tries so hard w elaine as well and it did hit my heart a bit when she was like gloves to work in my garden?? no ?? i use my bare hands see oNly aZiReL sEeS mE fOr WhO i Am. and at the same feyre is like flaunting her mate status to lucein which is mean as shit. its like this man can’t find love in prythain. then tamlin sending him his box of his things??? thats for sure brutral. tam was literally his partner through it all; savior of sorts even. no love from IC, no love from elaine, no love from feyre, no love from tamlin, no love from autumn court rejected everywhere! also HIS TRUE FATHER?? HEllo???

then on tamlin. i pity the guy! was i suppose to feel that way??? it felt like he is allowed to get a redemption arc and maybe i’ll even root for a redemption arc??? i was absolutely excited for freysand in ACOMAF but after ACOFAS, im like tamlin is....not completely bad??? his relationship w feyre was bad and the controlling parts were very much a no-no. i dont truly understand the dynamics of an abusive relationship but i can understand that it can be insidious and its the little things that hurt the victim. and i felt feyre through ACOMAF and rooted for her to escape her abuser! but then it felt like i dont think he was doing any of those things out of malice. ill say tamlin is a bad leader and doesn’t know how to run a court outside of what he sees his father do. his understanding on everything is based on the traditions of the past which i think fueled most of the things he did i.e. not telling feyre she was in danger since maybe his mom didn’t do those war planning things. ACOTAR showed how he truly cared/loved and took good care of feyre and her family. he even talked about how he didn’t believe in the enslavement of humans! i think that tam wanted to preserve what he thought was the good (aka feyre + her love of painting) and get back a sense of control that he and his entire court lost while chained to amarantha. but at the same time, i think he truly thought feyre wasn’t safe. he knows rhys can crush minds and knows feyre can’t read/write so when he got that letter telling him shes safe of course hes gonna flip shit and made a deal w the devil (although those temper outbursts were DEFINITIVELY not ok!!!). he also didn’t listen and has sense of he knows best when feyre was not the type of person. but feyre destroyed his entire court. he lost all his sentries who literally went out to die for him during amarantha’s reign. he lost lucien too; his trusted right hand man. his people were cursed for 50 years and then continued to suffer UTM and was in the process of rebuilding too! but just seeing spring court, WHO BORDERS THE HUMANS, be in ruins where his subjects left him, his people left him and hes all alone in the manson?? that was sooo sad. so im like why does what feyre did not feel satisfactory????? im mad that it didn’t feel right??? maybe there wasn’t a point where feyre talked to tamlin -- like really talked to him esp w her new found voice and power, etc. anyways, i dont hate tamlin and was like oh shit i think feyre fucked up a bit there.

rhys is a dick to nesta. which made me think, if feyre wasn’t his mate would he extend the same love and care to her??? i loved how he tried so hard to make sure feyre was ok. made sure she wasn’t breaking! all of it! but for nesta, he had the audacity to use his high lord voice and be an ass overall. even tho he can see how cas is fucken in love??? even just how he talks to cass feels off too.

i’ll even go as far as to say because of how terrible ACOFAS was, it created this intense divide within the fandom. i remember reading the first three books and was absolutely 1) rooting for freysand 2) curious about the sister relationship and how it will be mended 3) i definitely didn’t hate nesta nor did i hate elaine either -- but i was adament about them talking it out with feyre for those tough times 4) saw a more realistic and charming healing arc 5) was rooting for feyre to be a stronger voice and grow into herself 6) love the dynamic of the inner circle + feyre

but after ACOFAS, I have this intense need to defend nesta and was super mad at how she was treated after the war and in turn a deep dislike for elaine for both her lack of agency, lack of grit that made all the other characters interesting, and lack of care for her sisters (who showed how much they would risk for her). i dont hate rhys but i was extremely not happy with him and his attitude and behavior. feyre became more arrogant and was acting like how asshole rhysand would act. like her life is perfect now and i was not rooting for her anymore. freysand didn’t feel like they have complimenting qualities that made them interesting in the first place but rather they are merging to become the same person but in a bad way. that mind reading thing was cute in the beginning but it became insufferable since all thoughts were shared so seamlessly it made reading feel weird.

anyways those are my thoughts on ACOFAS. it was a 1/5 stars for me and im mad those events transpired. reading the other books made me excited to know what was gonna happen and i was truly ready to accept the characters as flawed and nuanced as they are. im not mad about character not liking each other but i am mad that everything felt off. ACOFAS just felt regressive in some parts and forced in other parts. i know not everything ends in a nice tied up bow but this book single handily ruined what i thought about these characters in the worse way possible. this book wasn’t suppose to wrap up all the problems that exists in the other books but it didn’t feel hopeful like i thought it would. it didn’t feel wrapped up and didn’t feel like i should be excited about the next books. theres so many missing pieces i feel that i think need explaining and at the same time, i think it introduced too many problems at once which made it feel like its jumping around everywhere. although im still excited for ACOSF because i love nesta, and nesta deserves so much better and i want to have hope that this bad ending will either make sense later on or it was just a blimp.

109 notes · View notes