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jayeray-hq · 3 years

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How He Shows You Affection: Sakusa Kiyoomi

Timeskip/Manga Spoilers

Warnings: mentions of phobia and panic attacks, barely hinted NSFW

How He Shows You Affection Masterlist - Character Masterlist

Big thanks to the amazing Tay from Haikyuu Headquarters @deathcab4daddy who beta read for me, and told me to tag @dymphnasprose in this!

He Takes the Hardest Chores

You and Sakusa stared in muted horror at the mess that had once been your immaculate kitchen. The whole thing had started that morning when you’d noticed water leaking from under your sink as you were getting ready to go to work. Sakusa had already left for practice, so you’d been forced to stay behind and call into work late as you tried to get ahold of your apartment management and maintenance people.

You’d managed to get a large bucket under it, and had been assured by management that it would be taken care of. Thus, you’d left for work, though not before leaving a message for your germophobic boyfriend who would definitely need to know, that not only had a pipe under the sink leaked, but that you’d had to let someone into the apartment so they could fix it.

Naturally he hated whenever anyone he didn’t know intruded on his space, it made him incredibly antsy and anxious, which in turn made him act incredibly grumpy, not that you could blame him. You understood his fear was just that, a fear, and you did your best to understand and accommodate, the same way he did his best to never lash out at you and work through his fear.

Thus, you’d known without having to say that you’d probably have to do a deep clean of your apartment when you got home from work and he got home from practice, in order for him to feel safe again. You were more than prepared for it, and had even stopped at the store to pick up a couple refills for cleaning supplies you thought you might’ve been running low on in his favorite brands.

The small detour had meant you arrived home at the same time he did, and though he didn’t look happy at all, he had brightened a bit and even given you a masked kiss to the cheek in greeting when he saw you carrying your supplies. However, you were fairly sure that little bit of good mood had plummeted the minute the two of you had laid eyes on the kitchen.

Management had called you while you were at work to assure you everything was fixed, but had warned you that it wasn’t their job to clean up the mess. You’d acknowledged that, it was actually written into your contract with the apartment complex and had been one of the terms your boyfriend had been incredibly insistent about as he wanted absolutely no one in your apartment cleaning without permission.

However, you couldn’t help the swell of indignation in your chest as you stared at the brackish puddles of water, and clear muddy shoe prints all over the nice hardwood, along with the standing buckets of water, your nice kitchen rugs clearly left to soak in the disgusting mire on your floor. Yes, you’d agreed to do the clean-up, but at the very least they could’ve told you how bad it was, and whoever the repair person had been, could’ve cleaned up after themselves, which they obviously hadn’t if the black handprints on your sink and some of your cupboards meant anything. That wasn’t even touching on the smell, which wreaked of rotten things.

If you’d known about this you would’ve left work early to come home to try to clean things up, that or you never would’ve left in the first place in order to keep an eye on things. As it was, it was very clear to you that several things were ruined and would have to be thrown out, and the whole place aired out.

A quick glance at your boyfriend showed that he’d gone very white behind his mask, his eyes fixated on the mess, his breathing a little shallow, in a way that made you worry he was about to start hyperventilating.

“Kiyoomi?” you prompted gently, wondering if you needed to gently guide him away, get him out of the apartment before the whole thing got to be too much and he had a panic attack.

His dark eyes immediately snapped over to you, and he let out a long slow breath, clearly trying to gather himself. You remained quiet, and let him do what he needed to do, knowing better than to touch him in moments like these, as that only made it worse, but also keeping your eyes on his, as he’d told you before that doing that helped keep him grounded.

“Do you need to leave Kiyoomi?” you asked him gently, “You can step out for an hour, go pick up dinner or something and I can get started? It will be better when you get back I promise.”

“No,” he snapped immediately, the tone harsh and vicious enough to make you flinch, your eyes widening a bit in surprise.

“You go get dinner, and I’ll clean this… this… catastrophe,” he ordered a clear grimace of distaste on his face despite the mask he was still wearing, his dark eyes a little wild, clearly unsettled.

“That’s alright Kiyoomi,” you assured him, still gentle, “I don’t mind.”

“I mind,” he informed you, taking several deep breaths and clearly trying to keep himself calm, “I don’t want you to get dirty. You shouldn’t have to touch this disgusting filth.”

Your heart immediately softened despite the clear disgust in his voice. Most people didn’t realize, but Sakusa was actually fairly protective of the people he cared for. It apparently even extended far enough to the point where despite how afraid and disgusted he was he would rather deal with it himself, rather than have you, who he saw as infinitely precious, deal with it.

“You shouldn’t have to deal with it either, Kiyoomi,” you told him, unable to keep the affection from your tone for your boyfriend, who was sweet in his own way, “We’ll do it together alright? And after that we can throw our clothes in the laundry and take a nice clean shower.”

He looked at you, intently for several seconds, clearly wanting to protest, but in the end his shoulders slumped, clearly both relieved and resigned, and the two of you set to work. However, you quickly noticed that despite working together it was very clear he was taking the hardest, grossest parts of your task.

You only tried to protest once, but he refused to listen, giving you a very pointed look that spoke volumes about how very much he didn’t want you to have to touch what he was doing before going back to work. It took the two of you a good couple hours to get everything cleaned to the level that he found acceptable, and by the end both of you were tired, hungry and dirty.

However, as you stepped into the shower, you couldn’t bring yourself to complain or feel unhappy about it, not when he’d clearly gone out of his way to make things easier for you, when he’d tried so very hard to protect you despite his own fears. Instead you felt warm, and incredibly loved, and resolved to use this time before dinner to ensure he felt the same.

He Fusses Over You

“Here,” your boyfriend told you, handing you a small pack of hand sanitizer, clearly never opened, travel sized and ready to go.

“Thanks, Kiyoomi,” you told him with a small amused smile, tucking it into your purse, along with the three other small bottles he’d handed you within the last couple hours.

“Don’t forget you have to use it before and after security,” he told you, his dark brows furrowed with worry, a small crease appearing between the two moles on his forehead as he watched you with concerned dark eyes.

“I will,” you assured him, reaching out carefully, and touching your gloved hands to his. He immediately accepted the touch, twining your fingers together, and squeezing, clearly incredibly anxious.

You knew he absolutely hated when you had to travel, and it was even worse when you had to travel without him. Usually you’d be going with him and the team, but this time work meant you had to leave before he could, the tournament not finished until tomorrow, which meant going on your own. You honestly thought sometimes that he might even hate the fact that you had to travel even more than the fact that he had to travel, especially if you had to take shared transit.

Planes in particular were something he hated with a passion, referring to them as ‘flying petri dishes’ and ‘cesspits of bacteria and disease’ and you on a plane was one of his worst nightmares for that exact reason. It meant he went out of his way to ensure you had everything you might need to keep yourself safe, and always bought you two first class tickets even when he wasn’t travelling with you, so you could have your row of seats all to yourself without fear of contamination.

“You have your extra masks?” he fretted quietly, “And your wipes?”

“I do,” you assured him tenderly, hoping to ease his fears even as your heart melted at how very much he cared and wanted to keep you safe, “And I have extra pairs of gloves, and tissues too.”

“I’ll make sure I decontaminate right away when I get home, and I’ll call you to let you know I’ve gotten there safe alright?” you assured him as the attendant called for boarding.

“Okay,” he told you, releasing a breath that was a bit shaky, as he searched your eyes, “Be safe okay?”

“I will,” you assured him tenderly, a little surprised but not protesting as he gently pressed his forehead to yours, an affectionate gesture the two of you had developed in place of kissing or hugs since he almost always wore a mask in public and didn’t feel comfortable with too much pda.

“I love you,” you told him quietly, “Have a good last game, and I’ll be waiting when you come home.”

“I love you too,” he answered just as quietly, reluctantly letting go of your hands and pulling back, letting you join the queue of people lining up to board.

You gave him one last smile over your shoulder before boarding the plane, taking your seat at the very front and as far from others as you could get. Sitting down with your purse in your lap, you dug through hoping to find your phone to let him know you were seated. You sent him one last I love you text, unable to keep the smile off your lips as you realized he’d somehow managed to sneak one more bottle of hand sanitizer into your purse when you weren’t looking, and unable to feel anything but completely and utterly loved.

He Touches You

You’d known from the beginning that Sakusa was a complete and utter germaphobe, and that a relationship with him wasn’t going to be easy, especially since the thought of touching people skin on skin was something that truly frightened him. A lot of people made jokes about his fear, which always made you frown in disapproval, mostly because while it may seem ridiculous and stupid to them, it was very real to him.

Most people held hands easily after their first date, might even expect to be kissed or hugged, an arm around the waist or shoulders, a gentle hand on their face or arm. That wasn’t you, and with Sakusa you were well aware it would never be you.

It took over a month for Sakusa to feel comfortable holding your hand, and that was only if you were both wearing gloves, and only if you let him know ahead of time that you’d like to do so. Touching him in any way required forethought and clear consent in order to ensure his comfort, and to keep him from panicking.

It was hard, incredibly so, and you inevitably messed up a couple of times, but he always forgave you even when your touch was enough to make him panic or tremble. The same way you always forgave him for hastily dashing to the nearest sink to wash himself clean or pulling out a bottle of hand sanitizer to clean himself off.

However, it was worth it, he was worth it, because you knew how very hard he was working on it, that he didn’t actually think you as a person were disgusting, just the germs you might accidentally carry on your skin, and that he really did want to touch you. He loved you and desperately wanted to give you the things he knew you wanted, so he worked on it, day by day and bit by bit he fought his fears for you.

The day he’d managed to reach for your hand first, with no glove in sight, the skin of his palm against yours and his fingers carefully twining into your grip, you’d nearly cried. You knew how much he’d worked for it, and how much he must love you to manage it, and in turn the gesture had felt incredibly intimate.

Yes, most normal couples would brush it off as something silly, or meaningless, but to the two of you, it meant everything. You knew there would be people who would scoff at your relationship, which moved slower than a snail’s pace, but for the two of you, every step forward was a battle won, every brush of skin on skin without flinching was a triumph and a blatant display of how very much Sakusa loved you.

And you treasured each and every moment of it. After all, who else could say that their boyfriend battled their worst fears just to be with them? Who else had a boyfriend who loved them so much they were willing to do whatever it took to give them what they wanted?

What you had with Sakusa was incredibly intimate and precious, and you didn’t care what anyone else said. It wasn’t your fault they took each and every touch for granted, but looking into his dark eyes, as he gently traced your lips with a bare elegant finger an expression of wonder and deep affection on his face, you promised yourself that you never would.

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renegadewangs · 3 years

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Van Zieks - the Examination, part 11

Warnings: SPOILERS for The Great Ace Attorney: Chronicles. Additional warning for racist sentiments uttered by fictional characters (and screencaps to show these sentiments).

Disclaimer: (see Part 1 for the more detailed disclaimer.) - These posts are not meant to be taken as fact. Everything I’m outlining stems from my own views and experiences. If you believe that I’ve missed or misinterpreted something, please let me know so I can edit the post accordingly. -The purpose of these posts is an analysis, nothing more. Please do not come into these posts expecting me to either defend Barok van Zieks from haters, nor expecting me to encourage the hatred. - I’m using the Western release of The Great Ace Attorney Chronicles for these posts, but may refer to the original Japanese dialogue of Dai Gyakuten Saiban if needed to compare what’s said. This also means I’m using the localized names and localized romanization of the names to stay consistent. -It doesn’t matter one bit to me whether you like Barok van Zieks or dislike him. However, I will ask that everyone who comments refrains from attacking real, actual people.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

Bring on the game's credits! BRING IT! The Resolve of Ryunosuke Naruhodo part 2 is here!

Episode 2-5: The Resolve of Ryunosuke Naruhodo, part 2

This is the first time in a while that I actually want to try other options to see what happens. The 'accusation' leads to some witty banter with a frustrated Stronghart, but 'report' is one that gets a reaction from Van Zieks himself. Ryu theorizes that 'since Klint was a well-bred and fastidious man, and knowing the end was near, he might have wanted to tie up some loose ends in all of his outstanding business'. Van Zieks immediately replies that his brother had no outstanding business.

DID I JUST GET PENALIZED BY THE DEFENDANT??? Just for implying his brother might've had some loose ends to tie up? Van Zieks really hates it when people show his brother even the slightest bit of disrespect, huh? Well, it's about to get a whole lot worse. Let's go for the confession option! Van Zieks definitely doesn't take kindly to this one.

“What are you saying? Do you even realise?! A confession...about the true identity of the Professor... That, that would mean...”

He fumbled his speech, there. We've never heard him do that before. And he's gone back to that bobbing, unsteady animation halfway into the above dialogue. Ryu insists it's the only explanation that fits. The man who murdered those members of the aristocracy wasn't Genshin Asogi at all, it was the one believed to be the fifth victim, Klint van Zieks himself.

Welp. We broke him. Stronghart remarks that Pandora's box has opened at last, making it clear he already knew what we just revealed. The gallery is outraged.

We've gone from well-bred to thoroughbred, have we? Susato feels very bad for Van Zieks, but Ryu asks himself whether such a brilliant prosecutor never suspected “what his older brother really was”. To clear up doubt further, he asks whether Klint Van Zieks owned a dog. Barok doesn't intend to dodge the facts of the situation, it seems.

Not what the concept art says, but it's possible Klint owned a different, smaller dog before Balmung. Van Zieks talks about how loyal the dog was and how it wore a jewel-studded collar which was stolen from the house “some years ago now”. This implies it was less than ten years ago, and must've been kept in the house as a keepsake even after Balmung passed away. Ryu and Susato bring up that they've seen such a collar; it was Selden's loot in case 2-2. They note the fancy B emblem on it, and this is the first time we find out that Klint van Zieks was a married man. His widow's maiden name was Baskerville. It's a little odd to me that for someone who thought so highly of his brother, Van Zieks never mentioned his sister in law before now. Conveniently, it never came up for the sake of a twist, I suppose. Either way, the emblem confirms the collar they saw was Balmung's. Ryu notes there was a considerable amount of blood on the collar (nobody washed this thing?) and while it could've come from typical hunting trips, it could just as well have been human blood. With that, the gallery begins to lean towards the truth that Klint van Zieks really was the Professor himself. Stronghart seems to have realized there's no way out of this now and announces that 'they may have the truth'.

Here comes that 'true nature' thing again, just worded a bit differently. Van Zieks doesn't intend to shirk away from it, though. He's open to the insinuation that his brother was, in truth, something truly horrible. Stronghart explains that Klint attempted to fight the growing darkness in London, only to end up being consumed by it. He also admits that after the fourth victim fell, Genshin showed up at his office, putting forth the accusation that Klint was the Professor. He didn't have any evidence and needed a warrant to get some, but Stronghart refused to anger the aristocracy based on the accusation of a visiting student, so he sent Genshin away. As a result, the man headed over to the Van Zieks mansion and Klint perished. Stronghart continues to admit that he was responsible for pinning the Professor's crimes on Genshin, right down to ordering Gregson to fabricate evidence. Sure enough, the late inspector's earlier claims ring true: it seems he did genuinely believe Genshin to be the killer, but was reluctant to falsify anything until Stronghart strong-armed him into it. The jailbreak agreement was also part of Stronghart's plan; he manipulated Genshin into agreeing by proverbially dangling his 14 year old son in front of him. Van Zieks brings up one more point: that Stronghart was the mastermind behind the Reaper organization. Not only does he admit to it, he calls it a “brilliant idea” and even takes credit for how his “minions” worked tirelessly to ensure Van Zieks was never accused of being the Reaper himself. What a smarmy bumhole. He insists it was all for the preservation of law and order across the empire, and the gallery is actually suckered into falling for this ploy. It seems as if he's going to get away with his masterminding without decent consequences. Kazuma now has one more question for Van Zieks, and it's the exact one Ryu asked himself earlier; did he never have any doubts about his brother?

“My brother's sense of justice was extremely strong. Perhaps...too strong, I observed. […] During the time of the Professor killings, my brother did not appear to be himself. But it was only once. Not more. Klint wasn't the culprit. That was my conclusion at the time. And I still believe that now. […] The third victim...was the Lord Chief Justice at the time. It was he who had recognized my brother's potential and trained him as a prosecutor. No matter what the circumstances, it's unthinkable that my brother could have killed his friend and mentor!”

So here, we learn that Klint wasn't an infallible paragon of virtue in his brother's eyes. Simply by saying that his sense of justice was “perhaps too strong”, a flaw is being brought to light. Younger Barok saw that Klint's need to ensure justice was overpowering him, and he also saw that during the time of the killings, something was off about his behavior. Enough to have the younger Van Zieks consider, for a brief time, that perhaps the Professor was him. However, the death of the third victim was like a lifeline to him, a flotation device keep him from going under- or perhaps more like a straw to grasp. It offered a sort of justification to him; a firm belief that Klint would never kill his own mentor and therefore he couldn't possibly be the Professor, and Barok was wrong to ever doubt him. However, it was just a very meager excuse to put his suspicions at ease and blind him to the truth. There are, after all, plenty of reasons why Klint would kill that Lord Chief Justice if indeed he were the Professor.

So Stronghart now tries to wrap everything up with a neat little bow, saying that's all the truth they'll be able to get from this trial and he'll present himself at the Ministry of Justice for whatever sanctions are deemed necessary. Since he's the Lord Chief Justice, I can't imagine the Ministry of Justice will give him more than a slap on the wrist. However, he says just a bit too much in his closing statement and Ryu jumps on that immediately. A third page of Genshin's will was hidden from everyone! Turns out, it was a personal message to Kazuma that they never bothered to send to Japan. Governor Caidin conveniently brought it with him and the contents are read aloud after some pressuring. With this last secret message left behind by Genshin, Ryu manages to find Klint's last will and testament hidden inside the Asogi clan's sword. GASP.

Oblivious to the shenanigans playing out in the Court Record section of the game, Stronghart once again tries to end the trial and even goes so far as to say Klint was basically insane when he took his mentor's life (to which Van Zieks objects fiercely). Ryu interjects, saying he has one more piece of evidence to present. When Stronghart calls the very notion absurd, Van Zieks once again raises an objection, pointing out that “this gentleman has an uncanny habit of producing evidence at the final hour that had escaped everyone else's attention.” Which, y'know, is true. That's how Ace Attorney works. I do want to draw attention to the fact that he said “this gentleman” as opposed to “this Nipponese” or even something like “this barrister”. He considers Ryu a gentleman now! So with that, Ryu has the opportunity to shove Klint's will in everyone's face and things escalate very quickly.

Ooh, his speech faltered again. He is shook! And it gets even better when he gets a closer look at the document.

Stronghart panics and demands Ryu hands the document over to him at once. When that fails, he even tries to forcibly adjourn the trial and get everyone to clear the courtroom. If that isn't suspicious, we don't know what is. It sure is satisfying to watch him squirm. Naturally, he can't actually put an end to the trial now- not with so many people watching, so the document is read aloud. It's revealed that Genshin challenged Klint to a duel, so that he might “depart this world with honor”. Klint goes on to write that he finds himself undeserving of this honor and that “the Japanese are a truly merciful people”. So here, already, we get the final nail in the coffin for Van Zieks's entire motivation for racial prejudice and for hating Genshin in particular. Klint never thought ill of Genshin, not even in his final moments. If anything, he was grateful for being put out of his misery and being allowed to 'depart the world with honor'. Genshin's actions were not betrayal; not ever. They were merciful. (COOL MOTIVE, STILL MURDER.) What we also learn is that while Klint did indeed take the life of the first victim on his own accord, he was then immediately identified as the culprit and blackmailed into the next three killings by someone else. You guessed it, it was Stronghart! Despite his earlier panic, he now has a myriad of justification ready, talking about how sacrifices have to be made for the sake of justice and whatnot. He also explains that he was the one who pressured Jigoku into shooting Genshin in the graveyard when Drebber showed up there. He acts like Jigoku is the only one to blame, but considering Stronghart was basically screaming in Jigoku's ear, I wouldn't be surprised if this poor man pulled the trigger by accident simply because he was startled by the shouting. Stronghart was the one who decided that Genshin needed to die and forced Jigoku to act, so Stronghart is the one ultimately responsible. Naturally, Ryu and Kazuma both attempt to argue Stronghart's justifications into the ground. At one point, Stronghart plays the victim card and asks them to acknowledge his 'struggle', but Kazuma insists that this jerk has done nothing and:

WELL. Okay. Looks like we've finally convinced Kazuma that Van Zieks is a victim in this whole ordeal, as well as someone who 'acts justly'. That's a wonderful way forward. With all this out in the open, though, Stronghart offers a literal round of applause. It's true; he's “done nothing” and “merely been surrounded by fools who've acted very rashly indeed”, which means he can't be charged with any crimes. We can't even prove he threatened anyone into doing his bidding, as he says it might as well have been “bargaining”. Thing is, bargaining with someone to end a third party's life is known as “contract killing” and is, in fact, illegal. I can't find any sources to verify whether it was already illegal in 1900 England, but I can only assume so, or people would've gotten away with murders very easily. I guess the bottom line here is that we can't prove Stronghart really did extort or pay anyone to take a life, since there's no material evidence for that sort of thing, nor anyone who can testify on it. Stronghart claims that the minutes of the trial will be heavily redacted to remove matters not related to Gregson's death, in the interest of preserving law and order, as well as to protect the queen. The gallery has now turned against us as well, chanting Stronghart's name.

Here we have a singular opportunity to deviate into the closest thing to a bad ending this game series has. Anyone who remembers the iconic 'the miracle never happen' ending in AA2, or even the bad endings in AA5 where either Trucy or Athena is implied to be killed by Aura, will be sorely disappointed by this one. First, to compare... In the standard ending, no matter how far along you've gotten in the trial- including proving that Stronghart was the Reaper- Van Zieks will still be found guilty. Stronghart will utter the words that he “would like to think however misguided, [Van Zieks] acted out of a sense of justice nonetheless”, and then pronounces the poor man guilty of crimes we've already proven were never committed by him. Now, in this slightly different ending, if you run out of all your penalty points because you fail to present Harely, the dialogue is tweaked. Stronghart declares that for the sake of justice, “the only correct course of action has been unanimously acknowledged by the clear majority here present. All mention of that which has been discussed in this courtroom today will be struck from the records. Barok van Zieks – Or should I say, Reaper of the Bailey... The heinous crimes committed by your brother, Klint van Zieks, will be lost in obscurity, this time forever. May you also find peace now as you join your sibling in the eternal darkness.”

And then, just as in the standard ending, Van Zieks is pronounced guilty and the doors slam shut. So effectively, the only real difference here is that Stronghart really rubs it in our faces that Van Zieks is taking the fall as the Reaper in the eyes of the public. He knows Van Zieks isn't the Reaper- everyone present in the courtroom knows it. However, since the entirely gallery is siding with the real mastermind, the minutes of the trial will be confiscated and destroyed so that the truth will be lost forever. Neither Kazuma nor Ryu reacts to this turn of events on-screen, which is a shame. Van Zieks doesn't fight the adjudication either, he simply accepts the verdict in silence- Hang on, where have we heard that before? Genshin? And didn't Van Zieks say that so long as his death served a purpose, he wouldn't mind dying over being called the Reaper? Stronghart certainly seems to feel that Van Zieks ought to be thrown under the omnibus and sent to the gallows for the sake of minimizing crime in London.

But we're not going to let the true antagonist of this game get away with his bullshit! Time to pull Harely's ears! Cue another (S)Holmeus Ex-Machina where it turns out the entire secret trial has been livestreamed to the Queen of England through holograms. By royal decree, Stronghart is stripped of his title and will be prosecuted for his crimes at a later time. FINAL BOSS, DEFEATED.

With Stronghart out of the way, Van Zieks has some closing sentiments to offer.

“Is that my brother left this world without a word to me.”

I can see why that might bug him. Van Zieks always looked up to his brother and shielded him from disrespect even a decade after his death, but Klint in turn didn't seem to want to leave any parting sentiments for him, not even a simple farewell. That's not the case, though! Susato points out there's actually more to Klint's will than was read aloud, so let's hear it now.

“Barok, you have always looked up to me, and now, you follow in my footsteps to become a prosecutor. It is my fervent wish that my unspeakable deeds should not hinder your advancement. I ask not for understanding, for none could understand my depravity. I ask only for forgiveness. Asogi is a fine detective, and a hunter worthy of respect. He has agreed to honour my final two wishes. The first is that this document survives. The second... I cannot commit to paper. I have confessed my sins to my wife. May she find resolution in my death. With my eternal gratitude to my Japanese friend, I rest my quill.”

Imagine how different things would've ended if the will had found its way to Van Zieks shortly after Klint's death. It would've prevented so much grief and so much prejudice, because if Van Zieks had learned that Klint still regarded Genshin with so much respect and gratitude even in this situation, he would never have blamed him for Klint's death nor considered it too great a betrayal. Everything that happened was in line with Klint's wishes. As it stands now, the words in Klint's will basically serve to scold Van Zieks for his attitude and hatred these past ten years.

Yep, there we go. The final straw. He's been truly, utterly embarrassed and made to confront his mistakes. When Stronghart explains how his ambition to become Attorney General is what prompted him to silence people like Watson and Gregson. Van Zieks asks him whether he ever bothered to count the number of brilliant people he had killed. Kind of a questionable remark, since Stronghart mostly had criminals killed. We don't even know for sure whether Watson was a good person or not; he comes across as a cowardly skeeve. I guess Van Zieks is mostly talking about Genshin, but even that is... Uh...

I received an Ask a while back, bringing up the matter that Genshin appears to be exonerated of any wrongdoing when the truth of Klint's death is revealed. That despite duels being outlawed and it being literal murder, Kazuma seems to take this truth as his father's name being cleared. Indeed, going over everything we've learned so far, it feels as if the narrative has set up both Klint and Genshin, and even characters like Jigoku and Gregson, as victims of Stronghart's manipulation. The thing is, though... Both Genshin and Klint took at least one life of their own free will, Jigoku pulled a trigger twice for the sake of his own career (and recruited someone into an assassin plot), Gregson conspired with a notorious assassin to commit over a dozen murders just because his boss told him it was the right thing to do... Feeling bad about murder or resorting to it because 'the other person is even worse and needs to be stopped' doesn't change that it's murder. It doesn't seem as if Kazuma or anyone else outright says their loved ones are absolved of any responsibility/their names are cleared, but it does really come across as if the narrative wants you to forgive them. So uh... Yes. This is something the game should have properly addressed, instead of just going 'oh, these poor people, all used as puppets by the final boss'.

Anyway, (S)Holmes takes the time to remind Van Zieks that he's the defendant in this case, not the prosecutor. Our old friend Santa Judge returns for the adjudication! Turns out, he was in the gallery all along. (Was he chanting Stronghart's name too?) He talks about how the darkness of the past ten years has lifted, in part thanks to a bright young star from the East. Awww, we've completely won over the judge! Van Zieks now also has something to add.

“I had the faintest of intimations. That if British justice, so warped and twisted over its long history, was finally to know change... This might just be the man to do it. But at the time, I wouldn't allow myself to acknowledge the possibility. I couldn't overcome my hatred of the Japanese, after the circumstances of my brother's death. Mr. Naruhodo...”

He takes a flourishing bow here, an acknowledgment that Ryu is worthy of his respect and perhaps even that Ryu is superior to him, then stands up straight again for the final whammy.

Ryu is shocked and Susato is brought to tears. We did it, y'all. We've secured the full, heartfelt apology. I'm not sure there's really anything to add to this, nor anything we could want from it at this point in time. Ryu doesn't say he forgives Van Zieks for his discourtesies, but considering how hard he worked to get this guy cleared of murder, that would feel kind of out of place. The forgiveness happened long before Van Zieks apologized, or so is the implication. (Is that the correct narrative path? Not at all, but I'll get back to that in the conclusion.) So after some more closing words from Ryu, Van Zieks gets his not-guilty verdict and court is adjourned.

In the defendant's lobby, Ryu feels a bit conflicted about how this whole thing went down. Susato tries to cheer him up by saying that everything will seem much better once he sees Van Zieks's smiling face. Indeed, in most other Ace Attorney games, this would be the point where at last, an emotionally distant defendant/witness drops their walls and allows themselves to smile (or cry). Just think of Gina, Lana Skye or even Athena Cykes when she cries tears of joy during AA5's ending. Hilariously enough, Van Zieks is not one of those characters.

This is a really fun subversion of expectations and Ace Attorney tropes. And I still believe his face got frozen like that. Even so, he's got something heartfelt to say.

“For you to have risen to the level of excellence you demonstrated today... Well, it's quite remarkable.”

Sounds like a hatchet job of a compliment at first glance, but the sentiment is there. It is extremely remarkable for a foreign exchange student who's only been in the country for about 9 months- and who only spent like 2 of those as an active lawyer- to rise to such a level that he not only uncovers the truth of the current case, but of a cold case from 10 years prior, which was part of a huge cover-up. Ryu points out that he exposed a most 'unpalatable truth' in court and that he feels as if he robbed Van Zieks of something precious. Van Zieks doesn't seem to agree. He reminisces on Stronghart's words.

“But that... That was just the feeble excuse of a coward. Only those with a steadfast eye for the truth have what it takes to fight the dark forces of crime. You made fine work of establishing that fact in court today.”

So once again, he's complimenting Ryu's courtroom performance. Not only that, but he's acknowledging (in different words) the earlier sentiment that the truth needs to come out, no matter how painful. Perhaps, indirectly, he's calling himself a feeble coward as well. Ryu and Susato are proud of Van Zieks's growth, with Susato saying that surely Kazuma would be smiling if he were here. Naturally, when he shows up at that very second, he isn't smiling at all. Like mentor, like disciple! Kazuma takes a polite bow before Van Zieks and congratulates him on his acquittal. Naturally, after watching Kazuma prosecute so ferociously for two whole episodes, that doesn't feel sincere. Van Zieks asks him whether he doesn't instead want to curse him. Kazuma apologizes for his earlier behavior, which does feel 100% sincere.

“Your father, Genshin... If I had been stronger, then perhaps... I made an unforgivable error of judgment. … I can offer no excuse.”

One more apology to add to the pile! And here we once again reach that question of whether the narrative is acting like Genshin should be absolved of all blame. In a technical sense, Van Zieks wasn't wrong to prosecute Genshin, since he did seriously murder Klint. That alone is already warranting of the death penalty, so the added crimes of the Professor on top of that don't change too much. However, I don't think Van Zieks's lines truly relate to the Professor trial itself. The error of judgment, in my eyes, can also be seen as the blind acceptance that Genshin betrayed him (as well as Klint) when there was actually far more at play. This notion that Genshin was a horrid traitor who abused their trust and hospitality was then allowed to grow into an irrational hatred which festered for a decade. Regardless of whether Genshin killed Klint, the insistence that the man's true nature was that of a monster was wrong, and I think that's what he's apologizing for. To be clear, he's not apologizing for racist sentiments uttered towards Kazuma or anyone else from Japan with these lines. This purely relates to his treatment of Genshin. However, he already apologized for his many discourtesies back in the courtroom and I think the racist outbursts were part of those discourtesies.

Kazuma says he can offer no forgiveness, which is totally fair. Kazuma isn't obligated to forgive this man. He does, however, admit that he has respect for Van Zieks, since he “fought for justice and the truth”.

Awww! Remember how in my very first 'strong thought about Barok' post, I pointed out that Barok almost appears to have been designed to be Kazuma's rival prosecutor instead of Ryu's? Yeah. Here we see it very clearly. The reconciliation conversation between these two feels like a much better resolution than the conversation between Van Zieks and Ryu.

So now Kazuma brings up that Genshin promised to do two things for Klint, but the second wasn't mentioned in the will. Mikotoba shows up to share a very heartbreaking tale about Klint's unnamed widow, the lady Zieks-Baskerville, who was hiding out in Dartmoor and passed away from childbirth very shortly after Genshin was executed. The newborn baby girl survived, though! Van Zieks blurts out that that makes no sense. “Why on Earth wouldn't Klint have entrusted the child to my care in that case?!” And that alone is already kind of tragic, but what really packs a wallop is this:

This means Klint and his wife deliberately kept the pregnancy from him. It's never explained why. Genshin showed up at the manor in the spur of the moment and Klint died that very same night, when his wife must've already been around 8 or 9 months pregnant. (she gives birth about a week or two later, after all.) Klint says that he 'confessed his sins to his wife', but that also must've been very recent, if not that very same night, since Stronghart was threatening to tell Klint's wife and brother of his misdeeds. Stronghart's hold on Klint would've weakened if he'd told her the truth months ago, which in turn implies the both of them decided not to tell Barok while she herself was still oblivious to the Professor truth. Honestly, it all feels like a vague plotconvenience.

What is explained is why the newborn baby wasn't entrusted to Van Zieks. It isn't because Klint had the amazing foresight to know his younger brother would become a salty, loner alcoholic; it's because he and his wife feared the truth of the Professor might come out. Heck, if Genshin had never been arrested for Klint's death, perhaps it would've come out for certain. “The girl would be forever branded as the daughter of the infamous mass murderer.” So the baby girl was distanced from the Van Zieks family as much as possible, with all of London unaware of her existence. This girl is, of course, Iris.

Right on cue, the Harely plushie activates to receive a call from (S)Holmes and Iris. She invites everyone over to 221B for a feast and makes sure to invite “Mr. Reaper” too. He very awkwardly declines the offer.

Humanization? Humanization! He does, however, give Iris his word that he'll present himself at 221B in the near future to express his gratitude. I think a big part of why he declined the offer was because he wouldn't feel at home during the big celebration when a whole group of people is there. He'd much rather visit Iris during a more quiet, private moment and that's sweet too. Plus, I don't think he's in the mood for a celebration, considering all the horrible truths he's learned in a single day.

So now Kazuma prepares to leave and asks Van Zieks to accompany him. The wording of “would you care to-” makes it very clear this isn't a demand, it's a very soft request that Van Zieks is free to decline. Not that he hesitates for even a second. Here's some more parting words.

“I believe... You saved my life.”

He takes a deep, flourishing bow and honestly I've lost track of how many times he's praised/thanked Ryu by now. More than Edgeworth thanked Phoenix, most likely. The prosecutor duo prepares to walk away, but Ryu calls after Van Zieks, asking him to wait. Which he does. Ryu asks him what he intends to do now.

... “Prosecutor van Zieks chooses death”??? In a way, he's thinking of pulling a similar move. He intends to publicize the full truth of the Professor, and I can only imagine that includes Stronghart's involvement in what went down 10 years ago. Maybe he'll even share the truth of the Reaper who's haunted the courtroom all these years. He believes that “once that's done, the Van Zieks family will be ostracised completely from London society.” (I don't think he means living family members, but rather, the legacy of the Van Zieks name and the rights associated with it.) So because of that, he intends to leave the capital as soon as he's free of his employment. Considering how easily this man took a five year sabbatical and adding in the fact that the Lord Chief Justice just got arrested, I expect his resignation could be as easy as packing his desk and leaving his office without saying a word. Kazuma, however, calls him a fool and a coward. He basically dares Van Zieks to keep going now that he's finally freed from the pseudonym of the Reaper. Van Zieks neither agrees with the sentiment nor shoots it down, instead saying it's unexpected to hear those words from Kazuma of all people. With that out in the open, they leave for realsies.

Just as Van Zieks doesn't attend the Baker Street party, he isn't there when Ryu's at the docks to return to Japan. I like to think Kazuma did bother to tell Van Zieks that Ryu is leaving the country, because withholding that information seems like a bit of a jerk move, but... Well. Not showing up at the docks to say some final farewells is even more of a jerk move on Van Zieks's part. Though it's possible he felt he wasn't wanted there, and may eventually ask for Ryu's address so he can write a letter (which is far less imposing than invading a heartfelt farewell with a scowling face). It's a shame, though. I would've liked to hear his thoughts on Ryu's departure.

We learn that Kazuma will “stay in Lord van Zieks's tutelage for the time being” to become a full-fledged prosecutor. Which is fine, I guess. It doesn't matter whether he's a defense attorney or a prosecutor; all that matters is the pursuit of the truth. What catches my interest is that even with all that bad blood and refusal to forgive Van Zieks, Kazuma still agrees to keep studying as his disciple. This implies to me that he sincerely doesn't believe Van Zieks to be a bad person anymore, and acknowledges he can learn a lot from this man. Which is not the same thing as being on friendly terms with him, but at the very least he's giving Van Zieks the benefit of the doubt when it comes to improving their... Well, their dynamic, I suppose I should call it.

On to the credits scenes we go! This time, Van Zieks legit does get a scene of his own, but before we address this one, I want to skip ahead real quick to Albert Harebrayne's scene.

“He sent me a very nice letter saying he'd like to show me around now that everything was settled. B-But what have I done? I was so excited, I picked this splendid hotel and now I can't afford the bill! Oh Barok! Come to my rescue again, please! I, I wish I could just vanish into thin air sometimes!”

Several things of note can be taken out of this little scene. First of all, with the Reaper nonsense behind them, Van Zieks seems to have wasted very little time with asking his best buddy to return to London for that sightseeing that was promised. Presumably, he even paid for the trip (again), since Albert still seems to be very low on money. This, coupled with the fact that Van Zieks was reading that letter with quite a bit of dedication in his jail cell, indicates to me that he's longing for the good old days, when he could smile and have friends. He's trying to return to a sense of normalcy and since Albert is still considered his closest friend, it makes sense he'd reach out to him instead of a relative stranger like Kazuma. Baby steps. Now, the fact that Albert says “come to my rescue again” sets the very clear tone that this guy believes Van Zieks has helped him before- during the trial, of course. It's another reinforcement of the notion that Albert is thankful Van Zieks chose the role of prosecutor in order to defend the teleportation theory, even if it meant that he himself would be branded a murderer. Despite his gruff exterior and blunt words, Albert thinks of Van Zieks as a sort of knight in shining armor who will come save him. … With cold hard cash, in this case, but it's the gesture that counts. Van Zieks might allow Albert to stay in his mansion instead, but it depends how high the risk of assassination is at this point in time. People are probably hating on the Van Zieks family now that the truth of the Professor is out.

On to credits scene of Van Zieks himself! We have confirmation by now that he hasn't retired as a prosecutor, since Kazuma already expressed his intent to keep studying under him. So we see Van Zieks in his office, addressing Klint's painting.

“In those days, when I was known as the Reaper, I felt your presence at my side. Once, unable to bear the burden of that grim pseudonym, I even retired from the courtroom. Despite everything, I still wear your prosecutor's badge with pride. But the darkness that beset me is no more. As you, too... Are no more.”

The first two sentences of this bit feel very disjointed and barely related to me, so I had a quick look at some fan translations. First is the sub translation on Youtube: “I could feel you standing by my side through the days in which I was called the Reaper. Yet there were times I could not bear the burden of that name, and left the courtroom far behind me.” The “yet” is very crucial, since it makes the insinuation that feeling his brother's presence was very important to Van Zieks, but the burden became so overwhelming that he retired anyway. Taisa the Gamer's script doesn't have a “yet” in it, nor any equivalent, but the sentence structure still flows well enough not to cast doubt on how he felt about Klint's supposed presence. Contrasting that, the localization's wording with “even” almost makes it seem like feeling Klint's presence was a negative thing- that he was overwhelmed by it and that this was the burden associated with the Reaper name, as opposed to the killings. Which can't possibly be right; he already admitted to us that the idea of his brother's ghost helping him was one of the main reasons he kept on being the Reaper. So long story short, the localization's take on these first two lines is a little off.

The prosecutor's badge thing, however, is spot on. Despite everything- despite the 'true nature' of Klint now exposed, Van Zieks still wears the badge with pride. We know the badge is symbolical, of course. He still believes in Klint's sense of justice and he's still going to openly admit to being Klint's brother- to being a Van Zieks. That's sweet. He goes on to say that the darkness within him is no more. To really grasp what that means, let's go back to the end of case 2-3 for a second. There, Van Zieks says that after his brother's death, he found himself in “a very dark place indeed”. In case 2-4, he mentions that he refuses to trust others to protect himself against betrayal, but has now sunk into a proverbial mire which makes it impossible to breathe. All of that is the same darkness he's referring to now, I'm sure. I don't believe depression can lift this easily; there's no way that darkness is no more. However, I think what he means to say is that it no longer has such a strong hold on him that it manifests in paranoia and irrational hatred. He has a chance now to start fresh and that's what he intends to do. He's striding away from that darkness, towards a brighter future. In order for a person to change for the better, they themselves have to want to change, and it looks like Van Zieks is all for that. Which at last brings us to the conclusion of this essay series! The conclusion, which looks back on the original query posed in Part 1, will once again include a load of screencaps. To keep the post size lighter, I'm going to put it in a separate post. I hope you'll look forward to it!

#dgs #dgs spoilers #tgaa #tgaa spoilers #barok van zieks #ALMOST THERE #HHHHHHHHH

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jaehyunfirstlove · 3 years

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Fly away with me...

Pairing: Jaehyun x f. reader

Genre: meet-cute, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, smut (18+ only)

Warnings: aerophobia (fear of flying), mentions of anxiety, panic attacks, death, afterlife, unprotected sex

Word count: 2.8k

Taglist: @jaehyunnie77 (send me a message if you want to be tagged in future fics)

A/N: this came out of a conversation between me and @jaehyunnie77 :) Hope you like it!

Your palms were sweating.

The uber driver chattered the whole way to the airport, and you wished you could’ve paid attention but your mind kept going over all the ways the flight could go wrong. It’s not that you hadn’t ever flown before, you had, except you were a kid the last time and therefore too young to understand all the different ways it could end in disaster.

“... we’re here.”

You snapped out of it long enough to realize the car had stopped, and the driver was regarding you with an exasperated expression.

“Ah, yes, we’re here,” you repeated, but made no move to get out of the car. He sighed.

“Miss, I have another ride waiting,” he motioned to a person standing outside the car with their luggage in tow. You sighed heavily, and got out of the car reluctantly.

“Have a safe flight!” the driver called out as you closed the car door, and oh how you wished for the same thing.

---

You watched the clock ticking towards your flight with a sense of dread, with every minute your heart beat faster, your palms clammy with sweat. You wrung your hands, pacing in the terminal while everyone else sat calmly waiting for their flights.

How could they be so calm? You thought to yourself, wishing you had even an ounce of their resolve. You were practicing your breathing exercises when the dreaded announcement came over the loudspeaker.

“Flight 127, now boarding.”

You panicked, your heart beating out of your chest. You spun around frantically, in a confused delirium, stopping when you started to feel lightheaded. You could hear people speaking around you but you couldn’t make out what they were saying. Finally, your eyes focused and there was someone standing in front of you, the sunlight streaming into the windows framing his head like a halo. His hand was outstretched towards you, and when you looked at his face he was the most beautiful person you had ever seen.

I must be dead, you thought, he must be an angel

“Are you okay?” he certainly sounded like an angel, his voice like warm honey. You welcomed death if this was what lay in store for you. You smiled just as he reached for you, and then your world went black.

---

Your hearing came back first, and the first thing you heard was birds chirping. You opened your eyes, momentarily blinded by the rays of sunlight peeking through the leaves in the tree above you.

I’m in heaven, you thought, that’s interesting

“Oh, you’re awake,” someone’s face came into your vision, and you recognized him as the angel from the terminal. It warmed your heart that he had accompanied you to the afterlife, and you smiled at him in gratitude. “How are you feeling?”

“Perfectly fine,” you replied, because you thought you were. Except that when you tried to sit up, your head spun like a top.

“Easy,” the angel held you up by your shoulders, looking with concern into your eyes, “you fainted back there, just take it slow for now.”

Your short term memory suddenly caught up to you, and you remembered the events that had transpired to bring you to your current state.

“Ah, right,” you rubbed your head in embarrassment, suddenly aware that he wasn’t an angel, just a complete stranger who had helped you when you fainted. You looked around at your surroundings in confusion, very aware now that you were no longer in the airport. “Um, where are we?”

“A doctor examined you and said you’d be okay, that you’d probably just need some air, so I brought you out here. It’s a park across from the airport.” He pointed across the street and sure enough you saw planes taking off, thankful that you weren’t on any of them.

“Oh. Well, thanks. You didn’t have to do all that.” You were grateful of course, but you felt bad that he had gone to all that trouble for you, probably missing his own flight in the process. He just smiled, and you noticed the most adorable dimples emerge on his face.

“It’s not a problem. I couldn’t just leave you lying on the floor like that.” He replied, and in that moment he really did resemble an angel. His hair fluttered softly in the breeze, the smile on his face reaching his eyes. He wore a white button-down shirt that almost glowed in the bright sun, setting off the smoothness of his skin. You wanted to stop staring but your eyes wouldn’t obey you.

“Well, um, I’m sure you have things to do? I hate that I took up so much of your time.” You sat up carefully as he watched you, but as soon as you were upright and feeling better, your stomach suddenly grumbled. You clutched it in embarrassment, but he only laughed.

“Listen, why don’t you let me help you get some food somewhere, and if you still want me to leave I definitely will. Deal?” he held out his hand, eyes wide, eyebrows raised. You couldn’t help yourself, you took his hand, unable to get over how warm it was and how it engulfed your entire hand, and shook it.

“Alright, let’s go,” you smiled, “I’m Y/N, by the way.”

“Nice to make your acquaintance, Y/N. I’m Jaehyun,” he bowed to you dramatically, still holding your hand, and you had to laugh. He definitely wasn’t an angel, you thought, shaking your head, but he might be a disney prince in disguise.

---

You discovered a cafe down the street, having a really pleasant conversation along the way. You found Jaehyun was a good conversationalist, listening attentively when you spoke, contributing his own anecdotes here and there as appropriate. When you reached the door of the cafe you were actually a little disappointed. You enjoyed his company, and wanted to spend more time with him, but you were hesitant to ask, not wanting to come off as too forward since you just met.

“Oh, I know this place,” he said as he peeked in the window, “they make the best croissants.”

“Oh yeah?” what a perfect excuse for an invitation, you thought, “let me get you one? It’s the least I can do, after you went to all that trouble for me.”

He stared into the window for a minute, and your heart sank, thinking he was going to say no. But then he turned to you, with that dimpled smile.

“Sure,” he said, pushing the door open for you, “they really are too good to pass up.”

You’d lost track of how much time had passed as you sat in the cafe with him, empty coffee cups and half-eaten croissants littering your table. He had the quirkiest sense of humor which had you in stitches, and whenever he would tell a story you found you would listen with rapt attention. Whenever you spoke he would watch you with a smile, eyes bright, and he would look away now and then, but almost hesitantly, like he couldn’t take his eyes off of you but he didn’t want to come off as a creep. Customers streamed in and out, and it was only when someone walked by you, talking loudly into their phone about their missed flight, that brought you into reality.

“I guess I should try to get on the next flight,” you sighed with dread. If it hadn’t been a business trip you would have just called an uber and gone home. As it was, your boss would kill you if you missed this trip. Jaehyun nodded and looked away. You thought he might have looked disappointed, but you definitely didn’t want to get your hopes up.

Calling the airline you found out the only flight with availability wasn’t leaving until the morning. They offered to put you up in a hotel nearby and you accepted, not wanting to deal with the hassle of having to go all the way home and come back again.

“So it looks like I have to stay in a hotel for the night, the next flight isn’t leaving until the morning,” you told him with a heavy sigh. Again you didn’t relish the idea of parting from him.

“I can walk you,” he offered. It didn’t seem like he wanted to part from you either. “I mean, if you don’t mind, of course,” he added with a shrug, trying to appear cool with your decision if you said no.

You couldn’t help it, but you broke out into a huge grin. You felt like a giddy schoolgirl who found out her crush reciprocated her feelings.

“That would be really nice,” you nodded, and the smile he shot your way actually made you weak in the knees. You wondered again if you were keeping him from something, but decided he wouldn’t really be spending this much time with you if he didn’t want to. He had ample chances to leave but he didn’t take them.

As you approached the door of the hotel you noticed his footsteps slowing down, until he finally stopped just a few feet from the door. You turned to look at him, wondering why he’d stopped.

“I guess I’ll leave you here,” he said quietly. He had his hands shoved in his pockets, and was looking down at the ground so you couldn’t see his face. “I’m not good with goodbyes.”

Your heart and mind warred inside you, a fierce battle that ended with your heart in victory. Your mind told you not to do it, but your heart always won out in the end. With no words spoken between you, you slipped your hand in his and tugged him towards the entrance of the hotel.

---

It occurred to you that you probably should have thought this through a bit more, that inviting someone you’d basically just met up to your hotel room might not have been the best decision, but when he pulled yet another orgasm out of you there was no room for debate anymore.

“Does that feel good?” he asked, rubbing your clit gently, making sure it was coated with your juices so the pad of his thumb could glide more easily around the nub.

You only moaned in response as you arched your back off the bed, unsure if you could give him another orgasm but he sure was convincing you. He started kissing up your neck, entering you for a second time that night and you cried out, slightly over-sensitive but still so aroused from everything he’d been doing. It was clear he wanted to make you feel good, his own pleasure almost secondary, learning your body and reacting accordingly.

This time around he went slow, taking his time pleasuring you, his hands and lips all over your body. He rolled his hips achingly slowly, building up your pleasure gradually, so that when you hit your peak it was amplified to a mind-numbing degree. Your vision went white, your toes curled, as you squeezed him, bringing him to his own high with a deep groan.

You lay in his arms afterward, sweaty and satiated, and soon enough fell into a deep sleep.

---

You woke to the sound of his voice, muffled and sounding far away. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes you checked the clock: four in the morning. You’d have to get up in a couple hours for your flight, so you searched the room in the dark to bring him back to bed. The door to the bathroom was slightly open, and coming closer you heard his voice again. You peeked in to see him sitting on the edge of the bathtub, talking to someone on his phone. When he noticed you he motioned for you to go back to bed, and he would join you when he was done. You wondered who he would be talking to at that time but figured it was probably none of your business. You waited in bed and he finally came back, slipping in behind you and wrapping his arm around your waist.

“Sorry about that,” he whispered against your neck, his hand coming up to cup your breast.

“It’s okay,” you breathed, and all thoughts of the call flew out of your head as his other hand slipped between your legs.

---

The next morning you woke to an empty bed. You got up and checked the bathroom but he wasn’t there. There was no note either, you practically tore apart the bed looking for one. You thought maybe he’d gone to get breakfast so you waited a few minutes, but when you got a notification that your flight was boarding soon you checked out of the hotel and made your way to the airport.

You tried not to be disappointed, you tried hard not to be hurt, you told yourself that you barely knew him so it shouldn’t affect you so much, but the tears that pricked your eyes couldn’t be stopped. You wiped angrily at them, angry with yourself, angry with him.

As you approached the terminal your phone suddenly rang, and it was a number you didn’t recognize. Answering it, your heart leapt at the sound of his voice.

“Y/N,” his voice sounded strained, sad.

“Jaehyun,” you wanted to yell at him, you wanted to be angry, but hearing him again just made you want him more.

“I’m so sorry,” he began, “you don’t have to accept my apology, but I needed to explain. Will you hear me out?”

You found a seat in the terminal and sat down, not sure if you were ready for what he was about to say. You even briefly considered saying no, and hanging up, and forgetting about him completely. But you knew you could never forget the angel who’d saved you, who’d charmed you, who’d pleasured you to the point that you’d forgotten your own name.

“Okay,” was all you could say in response.

He let out a deep sigh before he began his story. He told you he’d been at the airport because his flight had just landed, he was back in town to meet with his ex-girlfriend. He had been stalling, wasting time in the terminal because he knew she wanted to get back together with him and he wasn’t sure what to do. He told you he’d been looking for a sign, and that’s when you had shown up in his life.

“It was like a miracle, you know? I literally asked for a sign, and then all of a sudden you were in front of me, fainting into my arms. I couldn’t think of a surer sign than that.” He continued, and you could tell even over the phone that he was smiling at the memory. “I had only meant to get you some help and that was it, but I couldn’t just leave you there afterwards, and I know there were so many times during our time together when I could have left, should have left, really, but I couldn’t bring myself to. I was so insanely charmed by you, I couldn’t leave you if I tried.”

“So what’s changed then? Why did you leave now?” you asked bitterly.

He sighed deeply again, and when he spoke again his voice sounded resigned. “The phone call I got in the middle of the night was from my ex, she was understandably mad that I had stood her up. I explained to her what happened but she just got more upset, so I figured I should meet with her like I had promised to.” He paused but your heart was beating out of your chest at the suspense.

“Are you there now?” you asked, wondering if they had gotten back together.

“No,” he responded right away, “I left. Actually, she threw me out. She was really angry.”

“So… you didn’t get back together?” you needed him to confirm it in so many words.

“No. I never wanted to. I should have just told her that in the first place.” He took a deep breath, and you held your own breath waiting for what he was going to say next. “Y/N, you don’t have to listen to me, you can hate me if you want, I’d understand, but…” He paused, like he was losing his nerve, but seemed to rally and went on. “I really want to see you again. When you get back from your trip I’ll be waiting in the terminal, and if you don’t want to see me just keep on walking.”

“And what if I do want to see you?” you asked hesitantly. You didn’t have to see him to know he was smiling.

“Then I know a cafe that makes awesome croissants.”

---

When you landed from your trip he was there just like he said. He wore the same white button-down shirt, the sunlight from the window once again framing his head like a halo. His smile was only for you, his hands behind his back hiding a bouquet of pink peonies.

You walked towards him, and without any doubts in your mind, you wrapped your arms around him, falling into his embrace.

#jaehyun imagines #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun smut #nct imagines #nct smut

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cinaja · 3 years

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Before the Wall part 57

Masterlist

A/N: I've decided to use a more omniscient narrator for this chapter to allow me to jump between povs/places. I hope this isn't confusing, I usually don't write omniscient povs.

----

On the first day, the sun rises to a land drenched in blood. Maybe some of the citizens mistake it for the trick of the light at first, the red morning sun reflecting on the water, but soon enough, they realize that this is no illusion.

The news spread through the land like a great weave, bringing panic in its wake. The river running through the Black Land is essential, its water sustaining the life in the region. There are secondary rivers and wells, of course, but those are turned to blood as well. But Fae cannot drink blood, and neither can their cattle. They cannot use blood to water their crops, either.

The humans are not panicking, although the Fae do not notice this (humans are below their notice, and this goes double when they are currently so occupied with themselves). They are giddy with excitement, even though they are trying to hide it. Having been sent to fetch water for their masters, they were the first to notice something was wrong, and in the beginning, they were worried, but it wasn’t long before the first of them found out that the blood turns back to water in their hands.

In the Seraphim army camp, the soldiers are above all confused. It falls to Drakon to explain the situation to them, as Miryam is still resting in their tent, sleeping so deeply she might as well be unconscious. He keeps his explanations short since he does not want to give any spies who might be listening any important information, but he takes care to make it clear that the curse is set to only affect those who have harmed the human residents of the Black Land, so they should remain unharmed.

Later, in a tent with his army commanders, he goes more into detail. The curse is tied, he explains, to the suffering of the humans here, past and present, and it will continue to punish those who caused that suffering until the humans are freed. As long as they aren’t, things will continue to get worse.

After he has finished, his commanders are silent for a moment. Then, Sinna nods slowly. “If anyone disagrees with this approach,” she says, “you are free to return to Erithia. This decision will have no consequences for you, and no one will think you lesser for it.”

Looks are exchanged, some of them wary, others unsure. No one leaves, though.

On the other end of the country, the Alliance council receives the news of what is happening in the Black Land. Andromache smiles darkly, whispering good riddance to Nakia. Most of the Fae frown, muttering amongst themselves. In the end, a missive is sent out to Miryam, asking her to appear before the council and explain herself. It goes ignored.

In her lavish suite of rooms in her palace, Ravenia receives the news that her rivers are now running with blood together with a letter. It is sealed in the Erithian seal and when she opens it, there is only one word written on the paper: Surrender.

----

On the morning of the second day, Ravenia has the two witchers remaining in her service after Artax’s death herd three-hundred-forty-one humans into a witch circle, making it seven times seven times seven people in the circle in total, and orders them to break the curse. The witchers die. The humans die. And in answer, the earth under them rumbles. Cracks form in the land, running through the ground like spiderwebs.

Out of the cracks crawl insects. Lice and fleas and mosquitos. Within an hour, every Fae throughout the land is covered in itching bites. Some try to flee into the water, but the rivers are still running blood and anyone who does dare to go into that doesn’t last long inside.

Before midday, even the last of the Fae have noticed that the humans are miraculously unaffected by the insects.

Drakon spends the day sending out messengers to all the corners of the country. The message they bear is simple: Free your slaves and this will all end. Refuse, harm them, and it will grow worse until your country is reduced to ashes. He prays they will be reasonable.

A few hours later, Ravenia sends out messengers of her own: Every person who chooses to free their slaves and send them to the Erithian army is guilty of treason and will be executed accordingly.

----

On the third day, the livestock begins to grow sick. No one quite knows where it’s coming from. It’s like the grass has suddenly turned poisonous, even if this poison affects only domesticated animals. By now, people are truly beginning to panic. The water being turned to blood is already bad, but most of them still hope it will be turned back to water soon enough. Dead livestock remains dead, though, and it might cause problems for years to come.

Miryam is still in pain from the spell by then, but it is manageable enough that she feels she can probably get up without falling over immediately. Gritting her teeth, she forces herself into a sitting position on her bed and begins to fumble for some proper clothes. Getting dressed takes thrice as long as usual, but she does manage to stand without falling over, which she counts as a victory. (Less fortunate is the fact that her power is still drained.)

Slowly, Miryam pushes the tent’s entrance open. As soon as she steps outside, the entire camp seems to freeze. The soldiers, who went about their activities until a moment ago, stop mid-motion to stare at her. After a heartbeat, they seem to realize what they are doing and quickly look away, most of them returning to their activities with a stiffness that wasn’t there before.

Miryam desperately wants to tell them that they needn’t be nervous about her, but she forces herself to ignore the awkwardness. If they are scared of her, she will not make it better by calling them out on it. At least the humans don’t seem to be wary of her when she visits their camp – they are more excited than anything – and as the day progresses, the Seraphim relax as well.

In Lako, Ravenia’s situation is growing worse by the hour. Not only is her entire body itching dur to these cursed fleas, she is also under more and more pressure from her nobles. They want to see her acting, and ideally not in a way that sets of a plague of insects all over their country. The last thing Ravenia wants is to show any weakness to Miryam, but right now, another meeting seems inevitable, if only to convince her people that she isn’t just sitting around doing nothing. If it was up to her, she would simply attack the army camped before her city, but her own army is still several days away, and besides, her people don’t seem all too eager to provoke the person who is currently holding their water reserves hostage. So Ravenia grinds her teeth and sends a letter to Miryam, asking for a meeting.

When Miryam receives the letter half an hour later, she frowns and shakes her head. “I’m not going,” she says. “Negotiations? None of my demands are up to negotiations, and anyways, she isn’t in a position to negotiate.”

Of course, if Miryam doesn’t go, Ravenia might use it to pretend that there is no peace because Miryam refuses negotiations. On the other hand, if she does go, Ravenia will just as easily be able to pretend that it was Miryam who caused negotiations to fail, since they would be meeting in private this time, away from the palace and any spying eyes. Either way is a mess, and so Miryam will pick the more pleasant option, which is not going.

“I’ll go,” Drakon says, and when Miryam turns around to frown at him, he shrugs. “I know she likely doesn’t mean this offer, but if there’s any way to resolve this without bloodshed, I think we should take it.”

Miryam nods. She doesn’t exactly agree – mainly because she really does not think Ravenia will listen to reason before she is on the brink of dying of thirst – but she can understand why Drakon feels the need to try. She feels bad enough about the idea of him facing Ravenia alone that she almost offers to come along, though. But Drakon didn’t ask her to, and since she doesn’t want to look like she doesn’t trust him to handle Ravenia on his own, she stays silent.

Two hours later, Drakon sets out for the meeting with Ravenia. He is nervous, but not as nervous as he was during earlier meetings. He doesn’t think the meeting is a trap, and apart from that, there’s little Ravenia can do to him anymore.

They meet by the side of the Klei river. It is a strange meeting place, lacking all the splendour and grandeur of the palaces that hosted all their previous meetings. To Drakon, Ravenia looks entirely out of place here. He can only imagine her in palaces, surrounded by servants, guards and courtiers. Not standing alone in the blood-stained earth, no companions to be seen.

“I was expecting your wife,” Ravenia says by way of greeting.

She is wearing a long, loose silk dress and her usual golden jewellery, but even her expensive clothes cannot hide the stings covering her entire body. Somehow, she also seems smaller than usual, far less imposing.

In her palace, she always manages to make herself seem more-than-Fae, invincible and untouchable. Out here, with the red river only feet away, though, it is obvious that she is just a person who happened to be born into power.

“Miryam is otherwise occupied,” Drakon says. His voice is even, and he is surprised to find that he isn’t terrified. For once, Ravenia’s mere presence isn’t enough to make him want to cower.

“And what would I have to discuss with you?” Ravenia asks.

“You called this meeting,” Drakon says. “I’d assume you would know why you did it.”

Ravenia lets out a long-suffering sigh. “I called the meeting to convince my country’s nobility that I am doing something to solve this unpleasant curse business. If you had any understanding at all of how politics work, you would know that.”

The jab fails to hit its mark. Not long ago, it would have stung, but right now, Drakon doesn’t even understand why he ever let her words hurt him. She is a tyrant, a monster and slave owner. Cauldron, why does he care what she thinks of his competence as a ruler? If anything, he should take it as a complement if she thinks him a bad ruler.

“You ought to surrender,” he says. “No one died yet, but if you continue to refuse, people will die. Your people. End this now, before any lasting damage is done.”

He doesn’t even understand how there can be any debate for Ravenia, how she can so casually risk her peoples’ lives over an already-lost battle.

“I have no intention of surrendering to you,” Ravenia replies evenly.

“What other choice do you have?” He shakes his head. “You’ve lost. Do you truly want to wait until hundreds, thousands of your people have died before you will finally admit it? Would that satisfy your pride?”

“If you’re so concerned about my peoples’ lives, you should not have set off that curse. Make no mistake, Your Highness – any deaths that will happen in this will be on you and your wife.” She laughs. “Or maybe only your wife, since I doubt she even discussed it with you first. It must be such a relief for you to finally have handed over your country to someone else.”

Drakon stares at her, lightly shaking his head. How did he ever allow himself to be this terrified of her? She is just a person. Someone with power, yes, but a large part of her power also comes from other people allowing her to have power over them. And right now, in their current situation, she has no power at all if Drakon doesn’t play along with her games.

“I don’t need to listen to this,” he says, nearly smiles at the surprise on her face. “I’m just here because I wanted to see if there was a way to avoid unnecessary deaths. It seems there isn’t, so I’m leaving. If you change your mind, send a letter.”

He winnows away without giving her the chance to reply. The meeting might not have led anywhere, he might not have managed to convince Ravenia of a peaceful solution, but still, this feels like a victory, if a smaller and more personal one.

----

On the fourth day, people begin to grow sick. It’s like the sand has turned to acid – wherever it touches them, it leaves boils and burns. None of it is life-threatening, but it is certainly painful.

The council sends another missive to Miryam, demands that she is to explain herself growing more urgent. She writes back this time, a short, polite refusal. The last thing she needs right now is the council meddling in her decisions.

According to her estimations, the surrender should arrive within the day. Fae can go five days without water. They are on the fourth day and by now, even Ravenia should have realized that there will be no breaking this curse. Theoretically, she has until tomorrow, but it would be smarter to surrender now, when her people aren’t yet on the brink of dying from thirst and she still stands a chance of making her position seem less desperate.

No royal messenger arrives, though. Miryam spends most of the day walking around the camp, trying to hold casual conversations with people. The Seraphims’ nervousness around her has eased somewhat, as they seem to have realized that Miryam cursing a country does not mean that she will be acting any differently towards them.

A delegation from Lako arrives at dusk. Miryam’s heart leaps, but then, she sees that these people don’t come bearing Ravenia’s coat of arms. Their expensive clothes mark them as nobles, and indeed Miryam recognizes a few of them, but they were not sent by Ravenia.

The leader is a woman dressed in a long, purple gown. It is cut longer than is fashion, with a high neckline and long sleeves, but even those don’t entirely manage to conceal the boils and stings all over her body. After a moment’s hesitation, Miryam recognizes her as Lady Seliah, one of the higher-ranking nobles in the city. She bows before Miryam, which comes as a surprise.

“Your Highness,” she says, then bows before Drakon who appeared next to Miryam. “Your Highness.”

“Lady Seliah,” Miryam replies, watching surprise flicker over the other woman’s face. Of course, she wouldn’t remember that they have met before. “To what do I owe this visit?”

“We have come to ask, no, to beg you to end this curse.” Seliah keeps her eyes lowered as she speaks. “We will gladly meet your demands – “

“Will you?” Miryam cuts her off, although she keeps her tone pleasant. “Because I think I made my demands quite clear, and still, I have not yet received news of you freeing your slaves.”

Seliah squirms. “Queen Ravenia has forbidden us from releasing them. We would gladly meet your terms, but there is no way for us to do so without risking our lives.”

“Given how easily you accepted my peoples’ suffering – and, in fact, accept the risk to their lives right now – you’ll understand if I find myself struggling to sympathize,” Miryam replies. What is it with these Fae always thinking that no matter what atrocities they commit, they will come out unharmed? Do they expect Miryam to be moved by them suddenly feeling threatened by the very ruler they supported all these years?

“I’m not asking in my name, but in the name of the innocent people who are suffering,” Seliah says.

A noble dressed in fine silks as a champion for the common people. Well, that is certainly something new. If this was the route they wanted to go, you’d think they would have been smart enough to at least send someone who isn’t noble.”

“And it’s the innocents in this country I am thinking of when I refuse,” Miryam replies, deliberately twisting her words. After all, which Fae here is truly innocent? She shakes her head. “If Ravenia is your problem, I suggest you deal with it. And quickly, since I believe you might be running out of water soon.”

If Seliah is angry, she hides it well. She merely bows her head, thanks Miryam for her time and returns to the city.

By sunset, her and the other nobles who accompanied her are dead, their bodies hanging from the walls of Lako, a message to anyone else in the city who might consider going behind Ravenia’s back to negotiate with the enemy.

----

By the fifth day, the earth has taken to trembling slightly every couple of minutes. That’s not the worst of it, though. When the sun rises, it is quickly obscured by a buzzing cloud of insects. Locusts, who descend upon the fields, bushes and trees with a vengeance. Within hours, they have devoured any leaves they managed to get a hold on, destroying this year’s harvest within hours. People are panicking.

And still, there is no word from Ravenia.

This is not what Miryam planned. Ravenia ought to have surrendered by now. She needs to surrender – without any water supply, she has no other choice. Yet five days are almost over. By now, people must be dying of thirst, and still, Ravenia hasn’t sent word.

Miryam wanders through the camp, restless. Something is going wrong, but she doesn’t know what. She supposes it’s possible that Ravenia has people winnowing water in, but they could never bring enough for the entire population. And surely Ravenia wouldn’t sacrifice thousands of her people, right? (Killing thousands of people was never part of Miryam’s plan. She knew there might be casualties, yes, and she willingly accepted it. She did not anticipate that everyone might die, though.)

She figures out what went wrong a few hours before sunset, when a stack of barrels in the centre of the camp she passes for the fifth time that evening catches her attention. She stops one of the soldiers rushing past.

Nodding towards the barrels, she asks, “What’s in those?”

“It’s mostly water, Your Highness,” he replies. “It is customary to keep some storages in case the river gets poisoned.”

Miryam nods slowly, horror dawning on her at the realization and growing worse as she looks into one of the barrels. The water in those barrels is still water. Every river, every will and spring in the entire Black Land is running blood, but a curse on the land apparently does not affect water that is being stored in canisters and barrels. Most of the Black Land relies on water from the river, yes, but the cities would still have some storages, or at least some other beverages like wine, to last them for a few days.

This is all wrong.

Some part of Miryam is glad that at least she didn’t just cause hundreds of thousands of people to die from thirst, but at the same time… It wasn’t supposed to go like this.

It’s the same thing she tells Drakon, ten minutes later in their tent, after having explained to him and Sinna what happened.

“This isn’t how it was meant to happen,” she whispers, more to herself than to anyone else. “They should have been surrendering by now. Fae can’t go for more than five days without water – they would have had to surrender.”

This was the plan. Take away their water and make them uncomfortable. Scare them, force them into a surrender. This was the plan. No one would even have needed to die if only they had been reasonable.

Drakon’s face is dark. “Will Ravenia distribute her water supplies?” He asks.

Miryam flinches. She hadn’t even considered that angle yet. “I don’t know,” she says.

Ravenia will want to keep enough water for herself and her nobles, that much is certain. But at the same time, she will need to appease her subject somehow if she doesn’t want to risk riots.

“To the nobles for sure,” she says after a moment’s hesitation. “Probably also some citizens. But the poorer ones, those who aren’t living in the city…” She shrugs and shakes her head at the same time.

This isn’t how she meant it to happen. The people who will die will still be slave owners, still criminals, but… It wasn’t the lower classes she meant to hit with this. And she knew people would likely die, both from her curse and the consequences that might follow, but she had thought the deaths would be few and far between.

Now, they likely won’t be.

“Alright, then,” Sinna says, crossing her arms. “What will that curse of yours do next?”

“I don’t know,” Miryam says, voice small. She didn’t plan this far, didn’t think it would get this far. (Didn’t really care, if she is being entirely honest.) “This is complicated magic, and I only really planned it out for five days.” Because after five days, every Fae here was supposed to be on the brink of dying from thirst. “The curse is set in a way that will make it get worse, but how…” She shrugs. “I’m sorry, but I can’t tell.”

Sinna is silent for a moment. Then, she says slowly, “So you set a curse on an entire country without knowing what it will do should it go on for longer than you planned.” She shakes her head and cuts a glare at Drakon. “Both of you. And you didn’t think that might turn into a problem?” When neither of them reply, she sighs. “Wonderful.”

Miryam stares down at her feet and doesn’t say that she would do it all again for a chance to save her people.

----

On the sixth day, the sun doesn’t rise. Or maybe it does, but its light certainly doesn’t reach the Black Land. Throughout the country, torches are being lit, but even their light barely manages to pierce the darkness that has fallen. It is a darkness that can be felt, thick and heavy like ink.

Once again, the humans get away easily. To them, the darkness feels soothing and while they can’t see anywhere near as good as in light, they can still easily make out shapes.

Many of them decide to use the opportunity while it is there. Their masters cannot see in the darkness – they can. In thousands, humans flee from the cities, vanish from houses and fields and make for the centre of the country where they have heard they will find safety.

In one of the cities to the west, the Fae leadership decides enough is enough. They will not be humiliated by a mortal like this, and they will not allow their slaves to get away unscathed, to laugh at their misery and celebrate their own victory. They will show to that mortal girl who thinks she can force their hand and attack their country, show to every mortal worm what happens when they try to cross the Fae.

They give out the order to have every human in the city brought to the marketplace and killed.

The news spread through the city like wildfire. The humans clutter together, hold on tight to each other and prepare for the end. Most of the Fae stand tightly together as well – but where the humans are silent, they are whispering, arguing. By that time, it is common knowledge that this curse is punishment for slavery, for harming humans. It is also common knowledge that Miryam’s policy for people who murder humans is simple: Execution. In other words, killing a whole group of humans does not seem to be the smartest course of action in this situation.

The large majority of the Fae in the Black Land, the Fae in this city, doesn’t care at all about human lives. They do, however, care a whole lot about their own lives. And right now, they are quickly discovering that they aren’t ready to die so that their leaders can get a brief moment of empty defiance against the people invading their country – especially when those invaders have already promised to be lenient if their demands are met.

Within a few hours, leadership over the city has quietly changed hands. The city council has been, for the time being, locked into the dungeons. After quite some arguments and even more grumbling, the humans are allowed to leave the slave quarters and instead given proper rooms in the Fae’s houses. No one is quite fond of that arrangement, but well, the curse is said to be tied to human suffering, and since no one is quite sure what counts as suffering, being extra careful seems only sensible.

Of course, the story of what happened there does not stay confined to one city. Within hours, all of the neighbouring towns have heard and many of them quietly decide to follow their example. That there is no immediate reaction from Ravenia only makes people grow bolder.

A meeting is called and held that night, with a good half of the Black Land’s city leadership in attendance. After a few hours of arguing, they come to the conclusion that there is only one sensible course of action right now: To fulfil Miryam’s demands even if Ravenia refuses to, and hope that will be enough to keep them safe. They are all aware that Ravenia would have their heads for this decision, but they have long reached the point where a soon-to-be-dead queen is far, far less daunting than what might happen if they refuse Miryam’s demands for any longer.

Throughout the country, Fae are beginning to die of thirst by now. Some are lucky enough to have found water, and the children, as it turns out, can still drink from the rivers and wells, but the death toll still climbs quickly, reaching and surpassing one thousand before midday. Everyone who survives is hungry and miserable and, by now, ready to do just about anything to end this curse. Still, though, Ravenia does not surrender.

----

On the seventh day, a thunderstorm breaks out. Lighting flashes through the sky, piercing the darkness that is still reining in the country for seconds at a time. Thunder roars, and hail falls to the ground in giant chunks, destroying fields and injuring or killing anyone who is stupid enough to be outside. (Notably, it doesn’t hit a single human although some of them have been sent outside to bring in any surviving livestock.)

Throughout the country, cities and villages are beginning to free their slaves and send them on their way towards the capital. Groups of thousands form, slowly marching through the storm.

On the other side of the Continent, the council is horrified. At least that’s what the Fae members keep repeating, even though most of them are honestly more horrified by the idea of what Miryam being able to completely wreck a country within a few days might mean for them than by the moral issue of sending giant chunks of ice raining down on a country. Meanwhile, Andromache is just about ready to punch the next person to talk about how horrifying Miryam’s actions are, especially when these are the people who, through years and centuries past, were never once been horrified by the crimes committed against humans.

She does not see the undercurrent moving through the Alliance, just below the surface of civility and righteous outrage. She does not notice the looks that are being exchanged while the human councilmembers are no looking, the meetings that are held, in secret and behind closed doors. Zeku notices, though, and he watches the events unfold in silence. He could stop it still, he supposes, or at least try to alert someone to it. But he has his own people to think of, and he cannot throw their lives away over a lost cause. Besides, it’s not like he didn’t try to warn Miryam, time and again. No one can blame him that she never listened.

The seventh day is also the day when Mor finally loses her patience. She has been watching in silence so far, horror growing with each day, unable to comprehend what she is seeing. In the beginning, she tried to tell herself that Miryam wasn’t harming anyone, that she was just trying to pressure the Fae into doing her bidding, but now, people are dying and Miryam still shows no sign of stopping.

She doesn’t understand. Cannot wrap her mind around how Miryam – Miryam who values kindness and hates unnecessary cruelty – can do this.

Mor has come to the decision that she will make her see reason. This needs to end, now, and somehow, Mor will convince Miryam. She steps out of her tent where she was hiding from the thunderstorm outside and begins to search the camp for Miryam.

The Fae camp is emptier than usual. It seems that even with the storm not affecting them, most of the soldiers prefer to hide in their tents. The humans are out and about, though, sitting about campfires and talking. Some of them must have dragged some of the smaller balls of hail over, and now, children are gathered around as some of the adult divide up the ice between them. They seem to be enjoying themselves. And well, why shouldn’t they? After all, none of the curses ever affect them.

It is that precision, more than anything else, that scares more. Because a spell this precise is no accident, no result of a moment’s desperation. It is calculated, and that makes it worse.

She finds Miryam on the second round through the camp, as she is just about to enter her tent. Drakon and Sinna are with her. Mor hurries over to join them.

“You need to end this,” she says by way of greeting. This was not how she meant to approach the topic, but damnit, there are chunks of ice that are bigger than her raining from the sky.

Sinna arches an eyebrow. “Hello to you, too, Mor,” she says. “Pleasure meeting you.”

Mor ignores her and instead turns to Miryam. “You need to end this,” she repeats. “Before any more people die. Miryam, please, so many people are already dead, it can’t go on like this.”

Miryam sighs. “And what other choice do I have?” She sounds so tired. Looks tired, too. Mor didn’t notice the last few days, but she looks like she hasn’t slept at all since she cast the spell. “If I were to end this now – which I can’t, by the way – what do you think would happen? This is the only protection my people have, Mor.”

On another day, Miryam’s words might have gotten through to Mor. Today, though, she doesn’t even notice the implications of Miryam saying that she can’t undo the curse, she is far too caught up in her horror and confusion about how Miryam can stand there and defend what is happening.

She shakes her head. “No,” she whispers. “This goes too far, Miryam.” Miryam doesn’t reply and Mor gestures wildly to the sky. “Have you looked outside lately? There are human-sized chunks of ice falling from the sky. You can’t just destroy an entire country for revenge!”

Miryam’s face hardens. “You think I’m doing this for revenge?” She asks.

Yes, Mor does think that. At least partially. If it wasn’t out of revenge, no one would ever do this. Certainly not Miryam, who hates hurting people.

“Does it matter?” She shoots back, voice rising. Heads are beginning to turn in their direction. “There is no reason good enough to justify this! You are killing thousands of innocents!”

“Funny, because I thought I was saving the innocents, and the people who are dying were all slave owners,” Miryam snaps, although she keeps her voice hushed. Then, she shakes her head and her posture relaxes slightly. “Besides, there’s no point in having this argument. I cannot stop this curse – it’s set to continue until the Black Land frees its slaves.”

Mor shakes her head, a chill running down her spine. Miryam couldn’t have… She wouldn’t have… She would never have set a spell to destroy a country without leaving a backdoor to stop it.

“And what if Ravenia doesn’t surrender?” She asks. She wants to take Miryam by the shoulders and shake her until she understands, but from the way Sinna is currently looking at her, she probably wouldn’t get away with that. “What then, Miryam?”

Now, finally, Miryam lowers her eyes. So she does feel bad after all. But it is clear that she still doesn’t regret what she did. To her, this seems more like this is an unfortunate side effect, something she doesn’t like to consider but still willingly accepted to get what she wants.

“Then I imagine the next Loyalist country will think twice before refusing to surrender,” Sinna answers for Miryam. “And now lower your voice. You’re making a scene.”

Mor stares at her like she’s seeing her for the first time. Then, she turns around to Drakon, who has been watching in silence until now. He has to agree with her. Surely he cannot like this any more than she does.

“Drakon,” she says, almost pleading, “you cannot agree with this. Tell me you don’t think this is right.”

But Drakon, Cauldron damn him, merely shakes his head. “Five hundred thousand people, Mor,” he says softly. “We are talking about five hundred thousand people who will all be murdered if Ravenia gets her way.”

Mor gapes at him, unable to believe that he is taking Miryam’s side on this. If there is one person who she was sure would disagree with this, it was Drakon. But well, Miryam is his mate. Maybe she should have expected that he would back her up in anything, no matter what.

She turns back to Miryam. “There are lines!” She snaps. By now, people are beginning to stop and stare, but Mor doesn’t care. “Lines you can’t cross, no matter what! And murdering thousands of civilians is one of those lines!”

“And what would you have me do instead?” Miryam asks. She doesn’t sound angry, just tired. Somehow, that makes it worse. If she was angry, Mor could at least tell herself that this was a spontaneous decision made out of anger or fear, not a calculated plan. “Do nothing and allow them all to be murdered rather than jeopardize my moral integrity? Would that make me a good person in your eyes?”

Mor opens her mouth – and closes it again when she realizes she doesn’t have a reply. The way Miryam puts it, there is no possible reply she can give. She doesn’t know how to explain that this simply isn’t right, and she’s too angry, too desperate to be particularly eloquent anymore. How did she come to be standing here, arguing with Miryam about whether it is okay for her to take an entire country hostage or not?

Miryam sighs and takes a step towards Mor. “You think I like this any more than you do?” She asks. “Believe me, if there was any other way, I would have gladly taken it.”

Mor takes a step backwards. “Yeah, well, I’m sure Ravenia thought she was justified in destroying Erithia as well,” she snaps.

The tension that takes over the room is almost physical. It’s like everyone tenses at once, like the temperature drops by a few degrees. Sinna takes half a step towards Mor, hand clenched to a fist. Drakon grabs her by the arm and stops her before she can get any further.

“That was a sorry comparison, Mor,” he says softly.

“Oh, yes, my comparison is a problem but Miryam casually killing thousands of people is perfectly fine,” Mor snaps.

She is vaguely aware that she should probably take her comment back, apologize. But she is far too angry and she still doesn’t understand.

“I apologize,” Miryam finally says. Her voice is icy, her face carefully blank. “I assumed I made it clear enough what the goal of this campaign would be, and what I was ready to do to achieve it. I wouldn’t want to make you participate in anything you are uncomfortable with, so if you truly feel this way, you are, of course, free to leave.”

“I certainly don’t need your permission for this,” Mor replies, voice equally sharp. “You go commit all the crimes you feel like, but I want no part in that.”

With that, she spins around and pushes through the newly-assembled crowd of onlookers towards the edge of the camp. She winnows away as soon as she reaches the edge of the wards.

Miryam remains standing in front of her tent, staring at the spot where Mor was standing until a moment ago. Then, she slowly looks up at the soldiers who are standing around, staring. She hopes they didn’t hear everything that happened.

“We should probably go inside,” she mutters, pain twisting in her chest. She tries very, very hard not to think about what Mor said, or about the fact that this might just have been the end of their friendship. (Not necessarily, she tries to tell herself. People argue all the time and usually, they find a way to fix their relationships afterwards.)

As soon as they are inside, she slumps down on one of the cushions lying on the ground. She pulls her knees up to her chin and stares down at the ground. Drakon sits down next to her. Hesitantly, he reaches a hand for her, letting it hover inches away from her arm, until Miryam leans against him.

“Well, that was nasty,” Sinna says.

Drakon nods, face tight.

“I don’t want all these people to die,” Miryam says. “Of course I don’t, I just…” She shakes her head, fumbling for words.

She understands Mor’s anger, doesn’t blame her for it, and yet… She never made a secret of it, did she? Time and time again, she said that she would do whatever it takes to free her people. She always, always made it known that she would do anything, cross every line if it meant her people could walk free. So why is Mor surprised now?

The problem, she thinks, is that people use the words “whatever it takes” too casually. It’s just like with the word “hate” – people use it so often, so easily, that it loses its original meaning. When people promise “I will do whatever it takes”, they usually mean “I will try really hard”. There’s always some kind of line, though, something they won’t be able to do. They mean “I will go until a certain point, and if I haven’t reached my goal by then, well, no one can really blame me, right?”

And Miryam doesn’t have a problem with that mindset. People should have lines. It is deeply concerning when they don’t. She doesn’t blame Mor for disagreeing with her methods or not going any further, either. But it’s not like Miryam wasn’t honest.

Besides, lines or no lines, surely what Miryam is doing isn’t that horrible? It is terrible, sure, but Mor seems to be forgetting that the only people who are affected, the only people who die, are slave owners who, through seven years of war, refused to stop owning people as property. It’s not that Miryam wants every slave owner to die, she doesn’t even want these people to die, but they are hardly innocents. Each and every one of them has the choice to free their slaves and convince others to do the same. If they don’t, why would Miryam coddle them, these Fae who committed so many crimes against her people? Why is it that they get to commit atrocity after atrocity and still be considered innocent bystanders in this conflict?

“I don’t know what she expects of me,” she says out loud, jumping to her feet. She promised herself that she wouldn’t be angry with anyone for being horrified at what she is doing, but right now, she just can’t help it. “That I act perfect about everything? How am I supposed to free a single human if Ravenia can have each and every one of them murdered at will, but I am apparently a monster if I so much as kill a few slave owners?”

Drakon rises as well and puts a hand on her arm. “Mor was just upset,” he says. “I’m sure she didn’t mean it.”

Miryam is far less sure of that. For whatever reason, Mor cannot accept what she is doing and she highly doubts that will change.

“It’s a matter of visibility, I think,” Sinna says. “Wars usually kill far more civilians than this, but what you are doing is very flashy. Besides, those deaths are usually presented as accidents – even if they aren’t – while you appear to be attacking civilians on purpose.”

“Well, those civilians are slave owners and I’m trying to get them free the slaves,” Miryam says drily.

“I’m not saying you are wrong. I’m saying people will be more easily horrified by this because it is so visible.” Sinna shrugs. “It doesn’t make sense. I mean, this entire war killed far more civilians than what you are doing now, yet no one ever blamed you for starting it.”

Miryam freezes, staring over at Sinna. Some part of her realizes that she meant well, but… it’s bad enough to think about the thousand-or-so people who died in the last few days. She really did not need to be reminded that technically, every person who died in the entire war is her fault.

This is all too much. Why must everything always be her responsibility? All these hundreds of thousands of lives… no single person should be responsible for so much. It’s always her needing to make these choices, and while she thinks she is right, she really doesn’t have a way of knowing and this is just too much to handle.

She needs to get away.

“You’ll excuse me,” Miryam says, jumping to her feet. She pushes the tent’s entrance aside and rushes out of the tent.

The moment she steps outside, she realizes that this was a mistake. Soldiers pause to stare at her, their gazes almost a physical weight. Momentum carrying her forward, Miryam keeps walking.

Before she has made it more than two steps, Drakon catches up with her. He must have moved inhumanely fast, because he manages to be by her side quickly enough to make it seem like he was walking out with her all along.

“Sorry,” Drakon says as their guards fall into place behind them. “Sinna was trying to be comforting.”

Miryam nods. “I’m not angry,” she says, and she really isn’t. There’s just a wave crashing down around her and she can feel herself drowning and she needs to get out. “I just need a moment alone.”

She can feel Drakon’s hesitation, and his worry. But she isn’t trying to shut him out, really. She just… well. Sometimes, for some things, she needs time alone. And right now, she desperately needs to be alone, and out of this camp, away from watching eyes.

“Can we talk later?” She asks.

Drakon nods. “Sure. I have a meeting, anyways. I should probably go.” He squeezes her hand. “See you later.”

Miryam nods, manages a smile and hurries off. As soon as she leaves the tent, though, she realizes that being alone is an illusion. A group of five guards is trailing her. In the camp, that might have been easy to ignore, but as soon as she leaves it, it becomes painfully obvious that she is being followed.

Still, she does her best to ignore it, but it is simply impossible. For all that these guards are trying to be inconspicuous, Miryam knows they are there. And as long as they are there, she needs to keep up appearances when all she really needs is some time alone with her feelings to sort through them without constantly being under inspection from others. And she trusts her guards, she does, but there is always the chance that someone might be a spy. Or even without ill intent, they might just end up talking in the camp about how their Princess is losing control, and that would be bad enough.

Her hands begin to shake and she can feel a sob building somewhere in her chest. Somewhere close by, a chunk of ice hits the ground, sand spraying to all sides. Miryam abruptly stops walking and turns around to her guards.

“I would like to be alone for a bit,” she says. “Would you please wait here?”

Her guards exchange looks. “Forgive me, Your Highness, but we can’t… I mean…” He hesitates, looking down at his toes.

“A few minutes alone can’t be too much to ask, can they?” Miryam snaps.

Her guards flinch, and Miryam immediately feels bad. Now she is being an ass to the people whose job it is to protect her. Of course they can’t let her out of sight in the middle of a war, in enemy territory. But she really, really needs to be alone right now, preferably before her control fractures entirely.

Miryam takes a deep breath, trying to fight her rising panic, and looks around. There is a ruin peeking out of the sand in the distance. Not much of it is visible, but it might provide some cover.

“I’ll go over there,” she says and points. “And you stay here. That way, you’ll be able to keep an eye on me and I get some time alone.”

Still, Kalirin, the head of her guards, doesn’t seem entirely convinced. “Your Highness…”

Miryam sighs. “If anything happens, I’ll scream. Until then, you stay here.”

With that, she turns around and walks towards the ruin. The sand crunches under her feet and gets stuck between her toes. The camp itself is closer to the river, where the sand gives way to fertile earth and soft grass, but here, she is standing in an ocean of sand. The ruin pokes out of it like a shipwreck, half-buried and destroyed.

The sandstone the building was made of is withered by the centuries, but Miryam finds an entrance. She has to shove a bit of sand aside, but then, there is enough space for her to squeeze through.

As soon as she is safely hidden from sight, her composure cracks. A sob breaks out of her, an ugly, harsh sound, and then she is on her knees, sobbing. She curls up in the tiny space she made for herself and lets the tears flow.

Eventually, the tears stop. Miryam pushes herself up on her elbows and immediately bangs her head on the ceiling. “Ow,” she mutters and leans her back against the wall. She is trembling slightly and her face is probably swollen from all the crying.

She doesn’t want to go back. If she just stays here, she will never have to face the consequences of what she did. (It isn’t realistic, of course, but just for the moment, it’s nice to imagine.) She tilts her head backwards and stares up at the ceiling.

There are figures carved into it. That in itself isn’t unusual – murals and carvings are popular here – and Miryam is about to turn away when she hesitates. Having lived in the palace in Lako for years, she is familiar with the art the Black Land Fae favour as well as the major historic styles. This style is unfamiliar to her, though.

On any other day, Miryam would have dismissed it, but right now, she jumps at the chance to distract herself. (If she is thinking about these carvings, she isn’t thinking about her argument with Mor, after all.) It is too dark in here for her to make out much of the details, so she begins to shove more sand away from the entrance.

It takes a while, but eventually, Miryam has shoved away enough sand that it’s no darker inside the building than outside. (Which means pitch-black in both cases, but this darkness, Miryam can see through with little difficulty.) Now, with more light, it becomes increasingly clear that these carvings are old, far older than Miryam first thought. She twists around a bit to get a better look, brushes some dust away until she can make out one of the carvings, depicting a woman with a spear raised over her head. Her hair is tied back into hundreds of tiny braids, revealing rounded ears.

The woman in the carving is human.

Miryam’s heart leaps. She stares at the carving for a moment, then begins to hectically push away the sand from the rest of them. A group of people sitting around a table. A woman bathing in a river. People celebrating on a barge, a sunset in the background. There are more carvings in the back, but here, the passage gets too narrow for Miryam to squeeze through and there is too little light to make out the carvings.

Every single person in the carvings she found is human, though. And the Fae of the Black Land never depict humans in any way, deeming them too unimportant to commit and effort into creating drawings or carvings of them. Which means…

It means that these carvings were made by humans. Sometime, likely millennia ago, humans built this building and carved scenes from their lives into the walls.

It means that Ghost was right. Long ago, so long it has been forgotten by the world, there were free humans in this land. Maybe one of the women in the carvings is even the queen he talked about, Rashida. This land belonged to them, they spent their lives here in freedom, and they left traces of it in the walls.

Oh, how she wishes Jurian was here to see this.

Miryam runs her hands over the carvings like that will bring the scenes to life, summon some faint echo of the people who once carved these scenes. She so desperately wishes she could imagine what it was like, but she can’t even truly imagine the Black Land under human rule.

In another world, one where the Fae never took this country away from her ancestors, she might have been born free. She might have lived a happy life, never needing to know war and suffering. She might have loved this country as fiercely as she now hates it, loved it as the humans who made these carvings surely did.

In this world, though, Miryam cannot bring herself to feel any sense of positive connection to this land, no matter its history. This will never be here home. But if she succeeds, then perhaps in a few years, other humans will feel differently. If part of the Black Land goes to the humans, there will be human children born in this country who must never know slavery, who will love this land as a home. They will have everything Miryam didn’t, everything humans in the past had.

And if she needs to burn this country to the ground to get there, then so be it.

----

On the eighth day, the sky starts raining fire. It falls from the sky in huge balls, trailing tails of light behind themselves like comets. Maybe the first Fae to see them in the dark mistook them for shooting stars, or marvelled at their beauty. Maybe some even thought the sudden light in the sky might signal an end to this horrible curse.

They soon learn better.

Where the ice was devastating, the fire is worse. It slams through houses, through wood and stone as if it where paper and sets everything in its wake on fire. Soon enough, the darkness that is still reining throughout the country is replaced by the flickering, orange glow of flames devouring anything in their paths. Throughout the villages and cities, Fae are rushing around, trying desperately to put out the fires, forced to resort to blood from the river instead of water. It isn’t enough, though. Even the fire magic so many of the High Fae here have doesn’t manage to keep the flames at bay.

Miryam watches the flames from afar. The human and Seraphim camp is still dark around her, untouched by the flames, but she can make out Lako in the distance, a glowing orb orange light. She wonders if Ravenia is there, wonders how she feels to see her city go up in flames around her. For a brief moment, she wishes she could see the look on her face.

The triumph that flickers through her at the thought is short-lived. For the most part, she feels terrible. If she is being entirely honest, though, terrible is all she allows herself to feel. If she only feels bad enough about herself, maybe the guilt and horror will be able to drown out the part of her that rejoices at the sight of the city she hated so much in flames, these people who caused her and her people so much pain finally paying for it, Ravenia’s kingdom that was built on human blood crumbling around her.

Miryam could have lived, she thinks, without knowing that she is capable of watching a country burn, knowing that this will cost thousands of lives, and feeling triumphant.

Only a few miles away in Lako, Ravenia stands on one of the many balconies in her palace and stares out at her burning city. All day long, people have been rushing around, trying to put out the flames, but what good does it do when new fire keeps falling from the sky without pause? Even now, comets of fire are shooting down towards her city, tearing through buildings and people. Destroying millennia old buildings, killing and burning.

Ravenia tears her eyes away from the flames and looks out into the darkness where she knows the mortal worm who caused all this has set her camp. Oh, what she would give to see her head spiked to the castle walls. She would set fire to her capital herself, burn down each and every house by hand, if it means that she could get her hands on Miryam in exchange.

She knows, though, that Miryam is beyond her reach. With her army refusing orders, she has no way to get to the girl and she knows that by tomorrow, it will all be over anyways.

If it was up to her, she would take this to the bitter end. Let Miryam burn down the entire country, but Ravenia would see to it that she doesn’t get a single human out alive. She would kill them all and leave Miryam alone in the ashes, choking on her empty victory.

But Ravenia’s people are cowards. Weak-willed, traitorous cowards. Even now, she can see them gathering in the streets, whispering, cursing her name. They have been at it for some time now. Yesterday, when the hail started, Ravenia’s spies first reported that they were talking of an uprising, but now that it’s fire raining from the sky instead of ice, they are actually ready to go through with it.

Ravenia does not wish to surrender. Everything in her rebels against the idea of admitting defeat against a mortal worm, one of her former slaves no less. Yet she doesn’t doubt that if she doesn’t, her own people will drag her out of her palace and tear her apart with their bare hands. Maybe they will send her head to Miryam along with the surrender whoever they chose as their leader will sign, and while the idea of having to surrender and be exiled or executed stings, being usurped and killed by her own people is even more unbearable. If this is the end, then at least she will face it proudly.

Ravenia does not wish to surrender. But in the end, surrender she does.

----

On the ninth day, the sun rises to a destroyed country. The rivers may be running water again, but the end of the curse did not erase its effects. The fields are still destroyed, most of the land burned to ashes, the buildings in ruins. Thousands of people dead.

The palace is deserted. Putting Ravenia and her highest-ranking government officials in chains and sending them to Telique was the first thing Miryam and Drakon did upon taking control of the city. The nobles who were not imprisoned fled to their estates in the countryside, apparently fearing that the invaders might change their minds, and any humans who used to work here have no desire to return.

Miryam had no desire to return, either, and yet she did. Drakon merely shook his head when she asked him if he wanted to return to the palace one last time, but she felt she had to go and so she went.

Slowly, she walks through the deserted halls. There are a million memories connected to this place, and not a single one of them good. She isn’t entirely sure what she is looking for. Some sort of closure, perhaps. Not healing – that will take years and years still – but something to help her make her peace. She knows Drakon found it during his meeting with Ravenia, but when Miryam saw the queen being marched off in chains earlier, she only felt a bitter satisfaction. It doesn’t make the memories of what happened sting less, though.

She reaches the throne room. No guards to be seen, she pushes the doors open herself and steps inside. The hall is entirely empty. A polished floor, artfully decorated walls, an empty throne Ravenia will never sit on again. It looks strangely peaceful, deceptively unthreatening.

This is where Miryam watched her mother and so many other humans, more than she can count, die. This is where she stood, day after day for three years, cowering behind Ravenia’s throne. Where she broke into a million pieces.

She doesn’t know what she is looking for. There is no closure here, not for her. For all that she might want to lock her memories of this place away, it is not possible.

But maybe that’s alright. She has won the war, freed her people. Fulfilled her promise. She isn’t fool enough to think that things will be easy from here on, but she has decades to find a way to make it work. Learn to live with the nightmares instead of run from them. Deal with what was done to her, and what she did. Make a world where no one will ever have to go through the same things as her.

She has her entire life left, and she won’t waste another moment of it in this nightmare.

Miryam turns her back on this horrible, cruel place, this lavish palace now turned crumbling ruin. She does not plan on ever returning – not to this place, and not to this country. Slowly, she walks out of the palace gates one last time.

Outside of the city, she finds her people. They are camped below the city walls, thousands and thousands of them. All of them amazingly, miraculously alive. From where she is standing, she can see children running around between the tents, chasing each other. One of them lets out a breathless laugh.

And doesn’t that alone make every bit of blood and pain, every horrible loss and difficult decision that led her here worth it?

Miryam closes her eyes and lifts her face to the sun shining above. I came back for you, she thinks. Nine years and a war and countless deaths between then and now, but I made it. You are free. We are all free.

----

On the other end of the Continent, Ravenia, formerly Queen of the Black Land, is given a truly unpleasant cell. It comes as a shock, at least to her. She is a queen, after all. Surely they are not going to lock her up in a dreary hole like this, even if she is slated for execution? She always knew the Alliance has little manners, but this is even worse than what she expected. (Unbeknownst to her, some of the Fae on the council were in favour of giving her a pleasant suite of rooms, but they quickly got shouted down by their human colleagues.)

While in the Black Land, humans are travelling towards the capital where so many of their peers are already waiting, Ravenia sits in her cell and stares at the wall. While, eventually, Miryam, Drakon, their army and the hundreds of thousands of humans they are escorting make for the Erythrian Sea where they have arranged for a fleet of ships to escort them across the narrow channel into a more friendly kingdom, Ravenia grumbles about her food and the lack of proper entertainment and pretends, for whoever is watching (which, really, are only a few guards), that this cell is her palace and she still queen.

Her solitude is interrupted just over a week after she was thrown into the cell. Emperor Shey steps into the room. He is dressed in a pristine chemise, deep blue coat slung over his shoulders and his light hair shimmering in the candlelight. Ravenia rises, pretending she is as well-dressed as he is, even though her looks have suffered significantly in the last week.

“Your Excellency,” she says. She does not incline her head (after all, she is Ravenia of the Black Land and she bows to no one, even if she is a prisoner). “I would offer you a seat, but I seem to lack a chair to offer.”

Shey nods. “I’m afraid my mortal allies have little sense for hospitality.” He makes to lean against the wall, seems to notice that it is covered in dirt, and wrinkles his nose. “I come with a suggestion,” he says and holds out a hand. A small bronze key lies in his palm, glowing with some enchantment. Ravenia’s eyes dash from the key to the shackles tying her to the walls, then back again to the key.

“It is charmed to allow you to winnow out of the castle in spite of the wards,” Shey says casually.

Ravenia keeps her gaze fixed on the key but doesn’t reach out to touch it. “Betraying your own allies on your day of victory?” She laughs. “Seems unwise.”

“Not much of a betrayal, is it?” Shey shrugs. “You’ve lost the war, and nothing you can do will change that. But if I’m not mistaken, you still have an army under your command – and the person who is responsible for you losing everything would be within your reach, should you get out of this cell.”

Ravenia’s eyes spark. “So it isn’t your precious Alliance you are betraying. Just its leader.” She laughs again.

“I’m getting rid of a problem,” Shey replies coolly. “And you get the chance to get revenge before your death, so I don’t think you get to complain.” He brushes an invisible fleck of dust off his jacket. “Miryam and her husband are marching for the Erythrian Sea, the humans they freed in tow. They have only a small legion with them, less than the soldiers under your command, but they have ships arranged to transport them across the sea.” He shrugs. “Ships are terribly flammable, though, and these might just burn down before they reach them.”

“And I assume you’ve already arranged for someone to set the fire?”

“Me?” Shey laughs. “My people have no fire powers – unlike yours. The idea that I might be behind this seems outlandish, doesn’t it?”

A smile is tugging at the corner of his mouth, but he bites it down. Now is not the time to gloat, although he is rather proud of his plan. Initially, he had considered sending an assassin after Miryam, but that approach seemed far too risky. With assassins, there are always questions, and knowing these obnoxious mortals, one of them might just lay the blame at his feet. But if Queen Ravenia breaks out of her prison and ends up killing Miryam… well, who would ever think him involved in that? After all, she already has a motive, and no one will have reason to suspect anyone helped her flee her prison.

Shey tosses the key into the air once, then catches it. “A bargain,” he says, offering it to Ravenia again. “You get your revenge. All I’m asking in return is that you never let anyone know I helped you.

Something akin to disgust flickers over Ravenia’s face, there and gone in a moment. She hesitates briefly, fighting the pride that forbids her from doing Shey’s dirty work for him. Her thirst for revenge wins, though. “It’s a bargain,” she says, reaching for the key. Only when she has it safely enclosed in her fist does she look back at Shey. “You have even less honour than I thought,” she says.

----

Tags: @croissantcitysucks @femtopulsed @aileywrites

#more war crimes!#i really hope the way I handled Everything in thsi chapter was okay #i was kind of nervous about it #especially bc this is basically the climax and I really wanted to get it right #before the wall #cinaja talks about before the wall #miryam #jurian #drakon

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dontshootmespence · 3 years

Text

Home Again

Summary: Spencer and Luke are happily married when the world goes to shit. In the chaos, they’re separated. After years, each one presumes the other dead. Until one day.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Luke Alvez

Word Count: 3,564

Warning: Zombie apocalypse shit. Character deaths.

A/N: This fulfills my apocalypse au square for @cmbingo.

Inside their mid-size apartment, Luke dances to his favorite music as he moves about the kitchen, getting dinner ready for when Spencer comes home. A medical researcher’s work was never really done, but in the years since they’d gotten married, Spencer made a commitment to be home by every night at 6PM unless they discussed otherwise.

Turning on the nightly news, Luke saw what looked like a pretty severe car accident on the road that Spencer normally took on the way home. He pulled out his phone and dialed, hoping to give his husband a head’s up about the driving conditions, but it went straight to voicemail. “Hey, Spence, it’s me. I mean, of course it’s me,” he laughed. “But anyway, I’m working on dinner now and I just saw the news. There’s a big accident on I-275 so you might want to take another way home if you can. I’ll see you in a little bit. Love you.”

As Luke slipped the chicken into the pot, he heard what sounded like another car wreck and ran to the window, sticking his head out to see a car on its side and one man running clumsily after another. A knock at the door distracted him from the damage on the street below.

“Luke, it’s Steven. Open up.”

Steven was their neighbor and a college student. They rarely ever spoke. “Steven, what’s wrong?”

“There’s something wrong, man. People are going crazy out there. They’re attacking each other and...and eating each other. It’s like there are...”

Luke couldn’t help but laugh. “Do not say zombies. There’s no such thing, kid.”

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Steven insisted. “Something is happening. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll pack up some essentials and get moving. Apparently, it started at the Recovered Exploration Lab downtown and people, zombies, whatever they are, they’re headed this way. I just wanted to give you a heads up.”

Steven sped down the stairs in a panic, leaving Luke’s focus to drift back to the television. “We’re here just above Recovered Exploration Lab where the breakout of what looks like zombies seems to have started,” the news anchor started. “On the ground, people are ripping and tearing and eating each other in what seems to be a real-life apocalypse, folks. At this time we don’t know what caused it, but we can assume that the staff at Recovered Exploration have been keeping secrets. This is WLVW Channel 2 News. Back to you in the studio.”

Luke couldn’t believe what he was hearing and ran back to the window to see even more people than before ambling down the street. Cursing under his breath, he pulled out his phone again and dialed Spencer again. “Spence, have you heard what’s on the news? Are they talking about it on the radio? They’re saying it’s a real life zombie apocalypse out there and I’m, I’m, I’m, uh, looking out the window and people are attacking each other. There’s a swarm of people heading toward the apartment so I’m grabbing some essentials for us. Meet me at our diner okay? Then we can figure out what to do. Be safe, Spence. I love you.”

Running into their bedroom, Luke grabbed the biggest backpack he could find and anything he thought they might need. Spare clothes, toiletries, canned food, a can opener, toilet paper, some sharp knives and his guns from work. “What else?” He spoke into the empty room. On the wall hung their favorite picture from their wedding. He and Spencer wore matching tuxes and walked hand in hand along a lit-up, tree-lined path. Lost in thought, the commotion brought him back. He stuffed the picture into the backpack and ran downstairs, hoping that this was all a dream.

----

Having heard both of Luke’s messages, Spencer took an alternative route home, but unfortunately, he ran into another accident, slamming on the brakes as two cars crashed into stopped cars in front of them. With traffic at a standstill, he pulled his phone out and tried to call Luke. Obviously, there had to be another explanation for what was happening.

As he was about to try calling for a second time, he saw someone in the wreckage ahead, who he’d previously assumed to be dead, jerk back to life. Slowly, she go up from the ground and shuffled toward an office that had his back turned. When an ear-shattering scream resounded through the air, Spencer dropped his phone. She wasn’t the only one.

A man from a nearby car knocked on Spencer’s window. “Buddy, we need to get out of here. You have anything that might help?”

“Like what?” Spencer asked, voice quivering as he picked up his phone from the car floor and shoved it back in his pocket. Quickly, he searched the car for anything that might be helpful. His keys.

“Anything in the trunk?” The man asked, grabbing Spencer’s arm and yanking him away from the incoming crowd. “We need to move now.”

His mind had blanked. After grabbing the emergency preparedness bag from the trunk of the car that Luke insisted he have, he and the unnamed man ran over the highway barrier and away from the traffic. “I need to get to the diner on Jones and Washington,” Spencer said. “Do you know it? My husband said to meet him there.”

Staring back into the growing see of screaming and ambling bodies, the man replied. “I don’t think you’re going that way, kid.”

----

Stumbling down into the street they lived on, Luke looked around in horror. He ran. He ran as hard and as fast as his body would allow, staying clear of any of the infected like his life depended on it. Right now, it did.

Luke wavered between walking and running in the general direction of the diner he knew so well. For five years, every Friday, he and Spencer would head there for a greasy burger and fries and some of the best milkshakes either of them had ever tasted.

The farther he traveled from the apartment, the less insanity he seemed to encounter, but still, his heart beat with reckless abandon as he peered around every corner. If whatever this was didn’t get resolved soon, every street, every city, every state would be something to fear. No longer would he and Spencer be able to go to the local park and bask in the sun. No more walks on the beach. No more calm and colorful sunsets. “You’re getting ahead of yourself,” he muttered to himself. “Just get to the diner.”

Using landmarks to guide his way (so that he could keep his phone on and pray for a call from Spencer), he crossed what he believed was the halfway point between the apartment and the restaurant. They now lived in a world where people ate each other and rose from the dead, but it was the groups of human beings taking this whole situation as a free for all that he had to avoid most of all.

As he hurriedly turned the corner, Luke bumped into a group of nervous but determined young adults. The youngest couldn’t have been 16 and the oldest topped 25 at the most. By the looks of the straggling adults, most of them had already lost someone or taken this new world as an excuse to ditch their families and fend for themselves. The most self-assured of the bunch stepped in toward Luke and looked at his bag. “Seems like you’re well stocked.”

“For a couple days,” he replied, carefully taking a small step backward. “For my spouse and I until this whole thing blows over.” He spoke the words, but something told him ‘this whole thing’ wasn’t going to be over anytime soon.

With each step Luke took back, the young man stepped forward and tried to yank the bag from his grasp. “Sorry, kiddo. That ain’t happening.” Before the other man could swing his gun from his back and into his hand, Luke had his pulled and aimed. “Don’t. I don’t wanna hurt people. You walk away. I’ll walk away and we’ll pretend this never happened.”

The next moments passed by in a blur - kids running, bullets flying. Luke didn’t glance back, running away from the screams and toward the diner with tears in his eyes. He just shot a kid. A kid who was just trying to survive in whatever the hell this new world was.

----

Days passed before Spencer and his party of misfits arrived at the diner. Jim was the man that shook him to reality. On the way they’d also run into a single mother named Avery and her 3-year-old son, Chase, who were being harassed by a couple of guys who just didn’t want to take no for an answer. Although they tried to resolve things peacefully, Jim killed the one that pulled a gun on him and the other ran away. From there, they all went to Jim’s former precinct and grabbed whatever guns they could find. Unlike Luke, Spencer wasn’t used to holding guns, but he was going to have to get accustomed quickly.

Normally, the diner looked reminiscent of the 50s. Crisp black and white checkered floors, red leather seats, clean white tables and chrome chairs at similarly colored bar-tops. Now there were skid marks on the floors, dinged counters and bits of food all over the floor. The kitchen had already been ransacked so very little decent food was left, but they stocked up on what they could and waited.

Nearly a week went by before Jim insisted they leave. “I know your husband was going to meet you here, Spencer, but if we stay any longer we’re putting ourselves in danger. We don’t wanna use all our gunpower to defend this place when we can’t stay here.”

Spencer knew he was right, but the thought of leaving hurt his heart. “I’m never going to see my husband again, am I, Jim?”

The older man just looked at him sadly, resting his hand on Spencer’s shoulder. “Call him. You’ve still got a little power left. Leave a message. And hope for the best. I’ll give you a minute before we head out.”

Spencer thanked him softly and went into the back room before pulling out the phone. Shakily, he dialed Luke one more time. “Hey, babe. I’ve been at the diner for almost a week. I don’t know what happened to you...or,” his voice broke, “or if you’re even still alive, but if you are, I’m headed toward my mother’s nursing home. I need to see if she’s okay. I have no idea if we’re ever going to see each other again. I hope we are. But if we aren’t, I need you know that the years we’ve been together, the years we’ve been married, they’ve been the best and happiest of my life. Studying what I study, it can suck the life out of you, but seeing you in the mornings, the sun shining on your face, it gave me that little push I needed to go do what I do. You changed my life, Luke. I love you so much. If you’re out there, and you can’t get to me, just know that, I love you with everything I have.”

Quickly, he ended the call and shoved the phone back in his pocket before breaking down sobbing. He allowed himself a few minutes and then met Jim, Avery and Chase outside. They’d all agreed to head in the direction of his mother’s nursing home. Spencer prayed that Luke and his mother were still alive. And safe.

----

After shooting the kid, Luke ran into a building a melted down. Sure, he’d had to shoot people before. He’d killed people before. But this was different. This was practically a kid whose only crime was trying to look out for the group he was with. Between dodging zombies and dodging other people, it took Luke almost two full weeks to get to the diner, but by the time he arrived, if Spencer had been there, he was gone.

Despite the possibility of nearby zombies or walkers or whatever he’d heard people calling them, Luke screamed at the top of his lungs and lost it. Without finding him here, there was no guarantee that they were ever going to see each other again. In his search for any salvageable supplies, he came across random papers, broken glass, ripped bandages - but nothing of use.

When he glanced down at the floor, he saw Spencer’s signature and hurriedly picked it up, but the other pieces of whatever note he left were too ripped up and dirty and stepped on for him to make out what it said. As his fingers slid over his husband’s name, a tear fell from his eye. If Spencer was still alive, he was likely headed in the direction his mother lived.

“Hello?” A small voice broke Luke from his train of thought. He spun around, his hand on the gun in his holster. “Please don’t hurt me,” the girl said. Dirt and dried blood covered her face and her eyes conveyed a lifetime of hurt. “Please.”

Luke lowered his gun. “How old are you?”

“Fourteen.”

Luisa had been right in the eye of the storm at the start of this whole thing weeks earlier. “My papa died trying to save my mama. And then she was bitten trying to save my sister and I. She saved me, but it was too late for Josephine. My mother lost too much blood. She fell asleep and never woke up and I had to- I had to put her out of her misery. I’m all alone.”

“Not anymore, kiddo. “You’ll stay with me.”

“Thank you - “

“Luke.”

“Thank you, Luke.”

----

The weeks that followed put Spencer’s band of misfits went through the ringer. After detouring around a group of people that would’ve outnumbered them three to one had they decided they wanted trouble, they had to fight their way through a hoard of walkers. Though they had few weapons, they managed, but not without Jim being bitten.

“Kid, you know without a medic around this tourniquet is just stopping the inevitable. The bastard nicked my brachial artery,” Jim said, heavily drawing in each breath as it came to him. “You’ve got to take the weapons and keep those two safe for as long as you can. Maybe find your husband again.”

Spencer swallowed the lump in his throat. “I could go find-”

“No way. There’s a hoard at our backs and only Lord knows what up ahead. I won’t have you risking that for me.”

Over and over again, Spencer tried to reason with him, but in a way Jim was right. He had no idea what was up ahead and even if he found a medic there was no guarantee that he’d get back in time to save Jim. “I’m sorry,” Spencer said, placing a handgun in his palm. “I really am.”

“I know, kid. I have you find your husband again. Now get going.”

Once Spencer grabbed the weapons Jim had, he gathered up Avery and Chase and headed out into the unknown. A gunshot rang out and the crows fled into the sky. Hope was waning fast.

----

On their way to Diana’s nursing home, Spencer, Avery and Chase faced no further challenges. As soon as they detected voices, they headed away from them, preferring to stay in their small group of three than risk bringing other people into their ranks. They crossed the occasional zombie, but they were quickly dispatched.

Finally, they reached Diana’s home, but they were too late. Spencer found her alive, but too bloodied and bruised to move. “Mom, I’ll find someone. I won’t let you die,” Spencer said softly as he cried. “I can find someone to help and we can get you out of here.”

Diana was nothing if not a realist. “I’m going to die, Spencer. Soon probably. I just hope I can keep my wits about me until the sleep sets in. How’s Luke? Where is he? Is he-?”

“I don’t know,” Spencer sobbed. “You really want to talk about my life right now?’

“Yes. When I first saw this on the news, I thought I was having a nightmare, but it’s real and it’s unreal and I just want a sense of normalcy.”

Spencer radioed Avery to tell her where he was before curling in next to his mother. “I was on my way home from work when this all started. Luke was home. I-I haven’t seen him since and I don’t think I’m ever going to see him again. Mom, I’m so scared of being alone.”

“You’ll find him again,” Diana said weakly.

“How do you know?”

“A mother knows. Remember?”

Spencer grabbed her hand and started reading the nearest book he could find. “Spencer...” she said, whisper soft. “It’s time for me to go to sleep.”

“No, mom, just a little bit longer.”

“Promise me something.”

“Anything.”

Diana fought for each breath. “Don’t let me turn into one of those things.”

Spencer choked out a sob. “I won’t.”

“And stay hopeful.”

He promised he would, though he wasn’t sure it was a promise he could keep. “Mom?”

Nothing.

Before she could come back, he took a small gun out of his pocket, aimed, and fired. “I’ll try, Mom.”

----

Days passed into weeks passed into months passed into years. In a world changed, it changed those within in. Luke, once a confident and self-assured government agent, turned inward, going from one “safe haven” to another and sheltering himself and Luisa until their hideaway was discovered and they needed to move on, never once fighting for a place to call a makeshift home.

Through the years he lost himself, finding that instead of helping others, he did only what he had to do for he and Luisa to survive, never once taking a life, only dispatching zombies when need be.

On the other hand, Spencer found himself hardening against the world. More than a year after everything began, Avery was overtaken by a hoard they passed, shoving Chase out of the crowd and toward Spencer. With her last breaths, she begged Spencer to take care of her son. Five years later, he and the almost nine-year-old boy headed a group of nearly 50 people, though numbers dwindled and rose from month to month.

Spencer became a leader, but he confided in no one, killed if it was necessary to defend his “home”, and rarely spoke, shutting down in the face of any emotional connection. To connect was to lose, and he had lost enough.

“Daniel and Alexa, you’ll accompany me into town for some supplies.” In addition to defending the makeshift community they’d developed, Spencer always sent out scouts to ensure that no one touched the supplies in surrounding towns. Less-looted stores were low in number and eventually he would need to conduct another reconnaissance mission to find supplies, but for now they would survive. “We leave within the hour.”

Smiles were few and far between, for Spencer more than most. However, the little boy he’d ended up raising as his son brought him a sliver of joy, along with his memories of Luke. They coaxed him to sleep at night and in the morning, he used them to make it through the day. “Chase, you know I love you, right?”

“I do, Spencer. Be careful okay? I can’t lose you.”

“I’ll be back.” He never promised, knowing more than most that sometimes the world was cruel. “Be good for Sandra.”

Though he was born before the world went to shit, Chase had essentially grown up in this new world. He was disciplined and trustworthy and more an adult than any almost nine-year-old boy should ever have to be.

On the way to gather supplies, Spencer zoned out, only gathering little bits of the conversation going on behind him. Both Daniel and Alexa had lost spouses at the start of the apocalypse and something told Spencer they were seeking comfort in one another now that they were “safe.” Funny how the meaning of a word could change in such a short amount of time.

While out for supplies, Spencer had insisted that no one go anywhere alone, so the three entered the hardware store in search of anything they could use as a weapon. As he gathered ropes and zip ties and wrenches into his supply bag, he heard Alexa and Daniel call for him. “Boss!”

Spencer approached the two, their guns raised and ready to fire. In the line of sight was a young woman, sheltered by a man. He closed his eyes and begged the universe for this not to be a joke, his mind playing tricks on him. When Spencer opened his eyes, he remained. “Luke?”

He smiled and immediately broke into tears. “Spence? You’re, you’re-”

Pushing past Daniel and Alexa, Spencer ran into Luke’s arms on the verge of tears, pressing his lips to his husband’s for the first time in nearly seven years. “I’m alive. And you’re here. How are you here?”

“Because I’m a different person. You?”

“Me too,” Spencer said sadly. “Everything’s changed. Except what I feel for you. I’m finally home again.”

#cmbingo #cmbingo21 #criminal minds bingo #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #spencer reid #luke alvez #reidvez #ralvez #spencer reid x luke alvez #luke alvez x spencer reid #dontshootmespence #home again

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unincised · 4 years

Text

It’s 12 in the morning and instead of doing homework I wrote a meta fic in the perspective of Dream and Wilbur during Dream SMP War. You can read it under the cut!

Inspired by (but not based around) <this post> and everyone’s replies, because that got me messed up tbh.

(It’s probably not chronologically correct / some events are probably forgotten or misinterpreted, but it’s early and I’m bored and inspired, so idk man.)

3k words; 2nd POV; any content warnings in the OG war apply here, but I don’t go into graphic detail so don’t worry. Might post on AO3 if I’m feeling cheeky.

You started to regret your decision. They haven’t existed on your land for too long, but they had already caused more trouble than what was worth. Still, you allowed them to stay, because they captivated your citizens; Strange accents, lovable characteristics, and a reputation that they grew from living elsewhere. You had figured that they would make great additions to your Court, for as long as they wanted it.

You never anticipated they’d take advantage. You never thought they’d stoop so low as to begin forming their own illegal acts behind your back.

There were whispers among the people; Forced smiles that promised secrets. You grit your teeth, because how could anyone keep secrets from you? From their King? Your closest friends knew nothing, but that didn’t mean nothing was happening. So, despite their best efforts to keep you calm, you went out scouting. There were tunnels all across your land, stretching as far as needed, appearing and disappearing, reforming to your needs. You knew this land better than anyone, and you used it to your advantage.

Tommy was acting awfully strange. Forced laughter, nervous glances over his shoulder, sword always strapped to his side. You tailed him until he was no longer on the main road, sneaking around a mountain and deep into the woods. Past a river. He stopped outside a single caravan, knocking on the door and being allowed entry a few moments later. Your eyes narrowed; No one informed you of a residence this far out.

Finding a better vantage point, you peered through the foggy glass and saw brewing stands lining the walls, a man you knew to be Wilbur pulling out a stack of blaze rods. Tommy visibly laughed, rubbing his hands together in excitement.

You couldn’t believe it. In his own home? Did they have no respect?

That night, you confided with George and Sapnap, watching as they sneered at the blatant lack of tact. It was the final straw: You made a final decision to ban them until further notice, maybe in a simple temporary status if they cooperated.

No one explained these things to you. You had no older advisors, no parental guidance, just your two friends who you’d trust with your life. You had no experience dealing with treason within your ranks, especially between two foreign ambassadors that weren’t supposed to break off with their own agenda. This was out of your control, and your confrontation hadn’t even happened yet. There was an unease within the three of you, but it was left unaddressed. You had no time to ponder these things. You needed to act.

Wilbur Soot was not like you. He was older, had experience, was once teamed up with legends that everyone knew the names of. He had a long-standing status within this very tight community. Compared to him, you were no one. You were younger, newer, growing fast but that meant nothing in terms of status. Your land was not well known either — if you ever needed help, you doubted that others would come to your aid. In this way, you were alone.

Despite your warnings, they did not back off. By this point, you were starting to get desperate. If you couldn’t handle a few criminals, how were you to keep your legitimacy as a ruler? You would be considered a joke, possibly even overthrown. Most importantly, how would your friends see you?

Through all of this, the citizens were turning. George arrived back looking frantic, shedding his commoner clothing and pacing around the room. He spoke of the murmurs in the crowd, of the people starting to lean towards those… those criminals. They spoke of you as a tyrant, singing praises of those foreigners’ bravery and justice.

Alone with your thoughts, you reflected. You knew that this war — and you knew it would become a war, no matter how much Alyssa denied it — would need to end with you on top. Luckily, this was something you could do. You were born to fight, knew the newest and deadliest attack methods, knew how to plan out traps, how to get people right where you needed them and strike before they even registered what happened. You had slain dragons; this team of misfits wouldn’t stand a chance.

The next day, you burned Tubbo’s house to the ground, adrenaline coursing through your veins as you screamed your declaration. WHITE FLAGS. OUTSIDE, BY TOMORROW! Sapnap cheered as the mansion lit the night up in a red glow. You knew that they’d be able to see it from where they cowered behind their walls in the forest. You hoped that they would back down before any real damage was done.

Two new allies joined your side, a young boy called Punz and a man named Eret. You only publicised one, the other was an Ace. Eret spoke in the accent of their opposers, came from the same region of their world, was charismatic and excellent at deception. Without hesitation, you gave him orders to be their spy.

“I want something in return,” There was a smug grin on his face, as if he already knew he’d get what was asked.

“Name your price.” You didn’t so much like compromises on such time-sensitive topics, but you knew that his role in this war would go a long way.

He wanted a castle, and a title to fit it. At first, you worried this was his obscure way of asking for your crown. It wasn’t; He wanted the title, not the responsibilities. With a suppressed sigh of irritation, you shook his hand.

Eret fit into the newly dubbed “L’manberg” seamlessly. He reported that they had no suspicions, going as far as to let him help build their wall of black stone. Slowly, the tension left your body; With this, the war was a guaranteed win.

Sapnap, ever the arsonist, strode up you with a mischievous smile, toying with a flint and steel. His idea was childish, would only really serve as something to fill the downtime and cause panic, but he agreed anyway. It was methodical, calming, watching the trees around L’manberg go up in flames until all that remained was a charred wasteland where a lush forest once thrived. George let out an exasperated sigh when he finally arrived, looking like a disappointed parent. To make up for it, you allowed him to light one block of explosives in the entrance of the nation’s walls, cheering and whooping as it cracked the stone and left a sizable indentation in the earth. For a time, things were perfect.

The harsh realities came crashing down when he arrived back home, finding almost no citizens on his side, harsh glares and spit words of villain. It seemed as if everyone forgot why the war was started in the first place. Did no one remember that it was them who came, betrayed what few laws he had in place, and then proceeded to create a nation on his land? Yet people sympathised with the four traitors — half of which were children. If anything, the notion that Tommy and Tubbo were being used for Wilbur’s own gain was something to fight against, but still no one listened.

You were beyond desperation: You needed to end this once and for all. Giving Eret the signal, and suiting up with your three other allies, the Dream Team finally headed off to war.

It was brutal. You arrived with the upper hand, camping atop the Embassy and sniping them off, effectively pinning them in Tommy’s old hut. The tides changed, and you retreated while they advanced. A game of cat and mouse, the roles switching mid-battle and no one knowing who was going to end up on top.

You sent off Punz to check on Eret, who had stayed behind in L’manberg. He arrived back with a confident smile, nodding once. The plan was set in motion, and you waited until the group of traitors returned back to their nation to regroup and restock. You lead the way through the charred remains of your land, dodging old traps and keeping to the shadows. The looming walls of L’manberg came into view, and a collective spike of excitement went through them. This was it; This was the finale. After all the failed negotiations: Discs, explosives, words — none of it mattered.

The hidden wall slid open, and in one fell swoop, you overpowered the criminals once and for all.

A message arrived the next day, from none other than Tommy. On it was a simple request for a duel, written in as few words as possible. As if the very notion of you reading his words disgusted him. George and Sapnap scoffed at the request, knowing the outcome with confidence, but you accepted it anyway.

Tommy was tired, bags under his eyes and the bow held low. Still, his eyes burned with passion, a promise of your defeat. Such a weak promise. At the count of ten you turned, appreciating Tommy’s unwavering resolve before firing a precise arrow and watching it plunge into the boy’s shoulder. His own arrow whizzed past your head, a few inches from its mark.

With one last look to the group as they crowded around Tommy in an act of protection, you turned and left.

The boy was persistent, a trait that you both appreciated and hated. A week later he was back, standing before you, a round object held tightly in his hands. You raised an eyebrow, finally impressed with the negotiation. Yes, this was something you could get behind. A fair trade: Something important to him for something important to you. A single music disc for an entire nation. Without context, the deal would seem weak and worthless. You knew better. You knew that his disc was treasured above anything else Tommy had. It wasn’t just a disc, it was leverage.

You took it from his weak grasp, watching as his hands clenched around empty air, head held low, but shouldered squared. The disc was turned over in your hands, as if in contemplation, before you acquiesced. He seemed to curl up into himself, and you wondered if this was something he wanted at all, or if it was the mental ministrations of Wilbur.

Nevertheless, you bid him a good day and went home. For now, you promised yourself, just for now you’d let them be.

The boy was surprisingly easy to betray. He gave you and your fellow friends free reign of his land so long as you followed his rules and played nice. You wanted to laugh outright, seeing right through that clay mask and into the eyes of a boy who knew nothing of real life. His position was unique, what with holding such a powerful title at such a young age, and that expanse of untouched land. He had no advisors, no guidance, following his and his friends’ own immature instincts. It was funny to you, but something else itched under your skin. You forced a smile at the interactions, convincingly obedient, but behind the curtains you sneered at this… child’s rule. What about him made for a King? How was he able to gather so many loyal citizens?

The amusement you originally felt twisted into jealousy.

To spite this boy and his very idea of ruling, you planned a coup. A revolution. Something to stir the pot, just to take him down several notches. The first step was Tommy. Naive, malleable Tommy, who played his part perfectly without even knowing it was pre-planned. Truthfully, nothing was remarkably illegal or interesting about creating a drug business deep into the forest, but it was a start. You snuck Tommy notes, telling of a fun project you wanted his participation in. You told him that he couldn’t tell a soul — sans Tubbo, of course — and waited for that reliable Tommy behaviour of not being able to keep a secret.

When he arrived on the doorstep of your Caravan, you could feel the eyes of someone else in the shadows of the trees. You made a show of it, leading Tommy to the room with a window, where everything was set up in plain view. The child was none the wiser, grabbing eagerly at the blaze rods, happily shrieking at this new turn of events. You promised him glory. You were on the right side of the war.

And there would be a war.

Dream was not a cunning ruler. He was smart, sure — everyone knew of his dangerous traps, of him outmaneuvering several people at once, of the several dragons he had slain just for fun — but he knew nothing of politics. He never addressed his people, never tried to win their favor, focusing all of his attention on countering every single one of your plans. You used this to its fullest potential, entering the empty spotlight and basking in the sympathetic gaze of the former King’s citizens. He no longer controlled them; They were yours. Their support was yours, their love was yours, and they promised you loyalty.

You took it all, and turned it back on Dream. In a beautiful display of true political power, you watched as your new followers pieced together their own narrative. Dream’s status was ruined, his name dragged through the mud, and you didn’t even need to do much. It was glorious.

There were casualties in war. Tubbo’s home was not a variable you accounted for, but with a few pats on the head, the problem was glossed over. Children were simple that way, you supposed. You told them that he could rebuild a new one, a better one. Homes were temporary, independence was forever. Tommy was the final word, escorting his friend away while trying his best to empathise. The sorrowful expression dropped on your face, and you turned back to more important matters.

A new face was standing at the entrance of your nation. He looked lost, hopeful, a tad bit tired. His eyes were covered by dark glasses. Eret was a sort of enigma, seeming to be a perfect addition to the team. They didn’t ask questions, did as they were told, was never mean to the younger boys. With his help, the wall around L’manberg was completed. Eret’s story was that had lived in Dream’s realm for a long time, but never seemed to fit in anywhere. As the tensions rose between the King and people of their origin, Eret no longer felt safe in the Kingdom. He wanted somewhere to belong, and he knew that you were the right man to give him that chance.

You had never heard of Eret before then, so you assumed the story legitimate. You had originally planned to still keep a close eye, but Eret was disarming, fitting into your ranks like he was there all along, never seeming like he was telling anything but the truth. He took on responsibility for Tommy and Tubbo, something you appreciated greatly. Until there was reason not to, you accepted him.

Tommy was enthusiastic, ready to charge into battle at a moment's notice. He stayed glued to your side, attempting to mimic and become a perfect copy. As if he was hoping to take your place someday. How funny. Besides that, he was comparable to a guard dog, which you could appreciate to an extent (you’d appreciate it more if he would stop trying to challenge enemies to 1v1s at every opportunity). You deduced that, in a few years — when he was finally combat-ready — he could make a formidable opponent. But Tommy didn’t have that luxury of time, so you made do.

Another thing about Tommy, was his obsession with two particular music discs. You wish you had found out this weakness sooner, because by the time Tommy told you, Dream had already discovered its leverage. Tommy and Tubbo would spend days off-schedule trading useless items with Dream, managing to trick him a few times until Dream came back with a netherite axe and forcibly stole them back again. It seemed to be an endless cycle, one which you did not appreciate. When Tommy returned with the two discs — confirmed to be the real ones — you told him that no longer was he to toy with the enemy like that. A dark look crossed his face, before compliance overtook. He saluted and went to find an Ender Chest.

You awoke to the forest surrounding your walls alit with fire. Standing on the outskirts, tossing aside a spent flint and steel, was Sapnap. His grin was maniacal, dark eyes staring at you with a challenging expression, knowing that he was untouchable. You had made it clear that nothing inside your nation was to be touched, but that of course excluded everything else. You grit your teeth, turning back to confer with Eret.

As soon as your foot touched the steps leading into the caravan, an explosion shook the ground under you. A cloud of smoke and fire emanated from the entrance of your country. Debris flew in all directions, gravel and dirt landing in your hair and dusting your clothes. The sound of cheering was heard in the distance.

When the final battle plan commenced, everything went wrong. Tubbo returned the day of the attack with news that they raided his home and broke all the potions he had spent days preparing. Your stock was nowhere near the needed amount. When on the battlefield, the group of netherite soldiers had you all pinned, fire arrows raining down from the skies. Even when you were able to change the tides, you quickly ran out of resources and needed to return home. It was a constant up and down, and you were only able to relax when inside the safety of L’manberg’s walls.

Eret had something up his sleeve. Something he’d been working on in secret. You felt an unease, because the man you had thought to be an open book was capable of hiding an entire underground bunker, complete with chests filled with…

Nothing. The chests were empty, and you turned in alarm when the sound of a button was pushed.

A few days later, Tommy entered your quarters, eyes downcast in something similar to shame. You suppressed a sigh, knowing that nothing good could come from a look like that. As it turned out, Tommy had challenged Dream to a duel. A final act, winner takes all. You didn’t know what to feel. As the war progressed, you saw the change in Tommy; He holds himself differently now. Dried cuts covered his face, bruises littered across his body, a near-imperceptible limp on the right leg. He was in no position for a duel, but it was out of your control. He had brought this upon himself, and despite it all you knew he had to follow through.

An arrow embedded itself deep into Tommy’s shoulder, and you swallowed harshly. He fell to the ground, and his friends surrounded him in a flurry of panic. Dream was gone just as fast as he arrived. Somewhere inside you, you knew that this would be the outcome. Still, you were disappointed.

You sat atop the walls, charred and cracked, needing several repairs after all they went through. But they weren’t your walls anymore, were they? Dream and his posse had won, and it was time for you to leave. In an attempt to overthrow that boy, you made him stronger. The citizens were divided, one half cheering at Dream’s victory, the other crying at L’manberg’s fall. When had this game become so serious? You didn’t expect this attachment to a throwaway nation that was only expected to live as long as it was entertaining. Now it felt like a real home, a place of sanctuary. You did this, you built this place, you fought for it. Still, it was no longer yours.

“I did it, Wilbur.” Tommy’s voice, normally loud and childish, had a somber tone. There was an edge of maturity, and of something gained while another was lost. You looked at him, taking in his eyes that seemed on the verge of tears, of exhaustion laced into every feature on his face, of calloused hands littered with nasty blisters. What did you do? The answer was not expected — you were ready to say goodbye to this place, to move onto the next project, to forget L’manberg ever existed.

A smile tugged at your lips. So faithful were his soldiers, so giving, so ready to sacrifice everything for something their leader barely believed in. You pulled Tommy close, embracing him in a tight hug that felt so unfamiliar. Your smile turned into a sharp grin, overlooking your land and seeing so many futures, so many possibilities.

“I’m proud of you, Tommy.”

#when I went back to link the post i found more additions to it #and i'm sad all over again #also wilbur is manipulative in here so just be warned #dream smp #tommyinnit #dreamwastaken #georgenotfound #sapnap #wilbur soot #tubbo #theeret #I FORGOT FUNDY I'M SORRY #JUST IMAGINE HIM OFF ON THE SIDELINES BEING A NEGLECTED CHILD #punz

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livefordrama · 3 years

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Reviewing Dramas I Have Watched Part 8

Again, here is my rating system: 1- Did not like, 2- Enjoyed but probably wouldn’t watch again, 3- Enjoyed and would watch some episodes again/may watch again, 4- Enjoyed and would watch again, 5- Loved

Korean Drama

My Strange Hero: 4

Trigger Warning: Suicide, Bullying, Verbal and Emotional Abuse

My Strange Hero is about a man named Bok-su (which stands for revenge), who was falsely accused by his friend and girl friend of shoving his friend off the school roof and expelled from high school. Now nine years later, he gets the opportunity to return to school but he isn’t just going to go back nicely, seeing the seemingly cozy lives those who betrayed him are living he decides to enact his revenge by proving how corrupt the high school and the people working in it are. However, his plans for revenge get more difficult to achieve when he begins to fall for his ex-girlfriend once again.

This show was cute and interesting, it made me mad and lot and Yoo Seung-ho never disappoints. I ended up watching it in less than a week with studying and all so it draws you in really fast. I absolutely loved the realistic factor of not having to forgive everyone for a good ending and to move on. Many shows, kdrama or otherwise, make characters forgive even those who did horrible things to them just for a good ending, and it’s not always that simple nor do you owe those who did horrible things to you an apology to be a good person and move on looking at you Missing Nine. However my main complaint with it is that the ending isn’t as impactful or satisfying as the ending three episodes previous. I’m glad they had the three ending episodes because the other characters got more closure, I just wish they would have made it as impactful as the ending of episode 29. It is about thirty minutes an episode so it’s a really fun and interesting watch if you need something on the shorter side. I highly recommend!

Love Alarm (Season 1): 3

Trigger Warning: Bullying, Suicide, PTSD, Anxiety, Panic Attacks, Abuse

Love Alarm deals with the concept of having an app that can read your emotions and alerts your phone when you are in 10 meters of someone who loves you or alerts your crushes phone if they are within the 10 meters. It follows Jojo, a girl with a mysterious and sad past, who can’t download Love Alarm because of her phone. She is in an unhappy relationship and begins to have feelings for the new student. After being kind to a student, he gives her the phone and she can finally download it only to find that love is a lot more complicated than she originally expected.

Okay, I started this show because the new season was coming out and everyone was freaking out about it. I had been avoiding it all this time because I love Song Kang and have been following his work since his smaller roles, hoping he would get bigger roles. I was so excited when I first heard he would be the main here but couldn’t ever bring myself to watch it cause I don’t like romance love triangles and already knew he was playing the webtoon second lead which made it worse. Plus I have a trauma with anything that has Kim So-Hyun in it. I adore her acting, she is so good, too good. She just always plays in really sad, dark Kdramas and I always like the second leads in her shows so I just get sad and angry when I watch her shows. I at the time just didn’t feel like dealing with being annoyed and finally got in the mood to watch a cheesy love triangle romance. *spoiler alert* I can confidentially say that while no character and no ship is necessarily healthy, I do prefer Sun-ho to Hye-yeong. No, not because he is played by Song Kang, in the first few episodes I hated his character. I wanted to punch him so badly, but with all his immature flaws he did do some mature things. He told Hye-yeong to not fight over Jojo and to let her pick which I loved because, shows like to have the two people fight amongst themselves who gets the crush and that’s so stupid to me, Jojo is a person with feelings too and she might not like either so I loved that he said that. I also loved that instead of telling Hye-yeong not to pursue Jojo because he still loved her, he told Jojo to stay away from Hye-yeong so that he wouldn’t be hurt by her like Sun-ho was. He still loved her but his friend came first, and I felt horrible when he lost almost everyone who genuinely loved him. Hye-yeong is okay, but he isn’t even a healthier option, he literally stalks her all the time without her even knowing about it, he memorized her daily routine, where he’s going to college so he could move there to be around her, it’s just too creepy to me. Yes, Sun-oh stalked her too and that is not okay at all, but he made his presence known so that she can voice if she was uncomfortable or knew to call someone if she felt threatened, Hye-yeong sneaks around and doesn’t even talk to her and that’s super creepy to me. I just think they are both immature and personally with some growth I think Sun-oh is more fitting than Hye-yeong cause the two really do seem like they are in love with each other while Jojo and Hye-yeong seem like a crush that will turn out to be more platonic. I know it’s wishful thinking but that’s just my hopes. *spoiler over* I did really love this show actually, sometimes you just need a trashy dramatic romance. Yes, it had toxic behaviors but I still liked it, it felt like a realistic teenage couple in high school (minus Mr. Stalkery Stalks.) I think that not everything has to be analyzed, I enjoyed the cute romantic scenes at face value, even though I knew they weren’t healthy. If it happened to me in real life, I would have punched a bitch but it’s fun to watch on a screen.

Blood: 2

Trigger Warnings: Blood, Suicide, Terminal illness, Murder, Abuse.

Blood is about a surgeon who is also a vampire. He tries to control his vampire self and help humans while working on a way to make himself human. When he transfers to a new hospital things take a turn for the weird as the patients of the new ward start exhibiting symptoms he is all too familiar with.

Blood was really good for the first two thirds of the series. I watched it before I found out about the main couples real life situation but continued to enjoy it because it’s none of my business what they do in their personal lives (so please don’t message or leave comments about that situation or your opinions on it.) Both couples were super cute and there were some plot twists that admittedly got me. I liked the story line and the idea that vampires were viruses that doctors were researching in secret. I really got hooked for most of the story; however, the last few episodes felt almost like they switched writers and the new writer had never watched the previous episodes. Comments were made that never were brought up again, like the thirty minutes of vaguely discussing his parents and who he was as an infectee that was never even slightly brushed upon for the rest of the episodes let alone resolved. Not to mention that last episode was a total mess and the ending sucked. The last two episodes are not canon in my mind that’s how weirdly out of place for the show they felt, it was like a 180. The ending was so confusing and I just really hated how it all played out. Because of this, I give the show a 2 cause I did enjoy it a lot but I won’t watch it again. Once of that was enough.

Legend Hero: 4

Legend Hero, also known as Legend Hero Samgugjeon or Legends Heroes the Three Kingdoms, is about people who compete in a dream battle to acquire their ultimate dream. The main character acquired three spirit helpers which help him in combat by transforming him into an armored knight with special power, and later befriends angels who help him in the battles by boosting this power. He has to fight friend and foe alike to achieve his ultimate dream but that begs the question, is a dream really worth it?

I really enjoyed this show, it was admittedly difficult to get into at first but once I did, I was hooked. The characters were so cute and endearing, the plot had humor, angst, and fluff alike. The acting was a little silly at points but it was made for kids so it’s a little overdramatic. It was all around a very entertaining watch, I watched the whole series while on vacation during the resting hours when my family and I were lazing around the hotel and it was such a refreshing, happy, lazy watch. I highly recommend for those who enjoy a happy watch when they just wish to relax.

Web-Drama/Mini-Series

Power Rangers Dino Force Brave: 4

Power Rangers Dino Force Brave, while technically a sequel to the super sentai series, is a original stand alone production and sSouth Korean take on the power rangers series. While the power rangers finally enjoy the peace that had come to the earth, a new threat is brewing. The Neo-Deboth Army has arrived looking for the power of the dinosaur king, the power ranger once more have to come together to defeat this threat.

This show was super interesting and cute. I have never seen any of the power ranger series so I am entirely inexperienced when it comes to their world. However, I can confidentially say this is a good stand alone as I was not confused while watching it. The first episode got recommended to me on youtube and since I was bored and unsure of what to do, I decided to watch it. I believe I finished the whole series in only a few days. It was super cute and I liked how ironic and silly the ending was with all the characters, including the evil ones dancing together. I’m sure die hard power rangers fans hated that but as someone who knows nothing about the series, I found it quite hilarious. The plot itself was entertaining and cool, it had some angst moments and some cute moments. I loved the ending, but that’s all I will say about that.

Founder of Diabolism Q: 3

Founder of Diabolism Q is simply snippets of cute or funny scenes from the book that didn’t make it into the series or at least not in as much detail. It follows many characters in small, five minute long episodes and the shenanigans they get in to.

Founder of Diabolism Q was super cute! I have watched The Untamed and read some of the book but haven’t watch the actual anime yet. Still, I decided to watch this short series. I watched each episode as it came out and loved every one. There isn’t much to say on it though, other than it was super cute and if you love The Untamed or its adaptions, I highly recommend. Just make sure you watch or read one of the full adaptions first otherwise you will be very confused.

Imaginary Cat: 4

Trigger Warning: Depression, Suicide, Vomit, Illness, Death

Imaginary Cat is about an aspiring webtoon artist who, after loosing his crush and falling into a depression, finds a cat in an alley and takes her in. He is able to recover from the loss and get back into writing when he meets a girl who is obsessed with cats especially after she lost her kitten as a child. He is just trying to get his webtoon accepted and she just wants to get close to him and his cat.

This was such a cute little easy watch, but was really sad at some points throughout the series. I teared up through some scenes and laughed so hard through others. I also related a lot to how the main plays with his cat, especially when said cat wants none of it. It was a really nice mini-drama to watch in the very little time I had between studying and moving house. I thoroughly enjoyed it and would highly recommend to those who want a easy watch that’s a little sad and very cute.

Korean Movies

The Magician: 4

Trigger Warning: Blood, Abuse, Drugs, Suicide Attempt, Murder, Death

The Magician is set in the Joseon Era and follows the famous magician, Hwan-hee. He along with his blind friend Bo-eum ran away from their abusive caretaker as children and are still worrying about being found by him even to this day as they perform to keep their livelihoods. Meanwhile a noble lady who was sold to the Qing dynasty comes to town. The two end up running into each other and quickly fall in love, however they both have to overcome the obstacles in their way in order to be together.

I loved this movie, I had to pause a few times just to process how much I personally enjoyed it. I wish I was able to watch it in a better quality because I never once saw how his one eye was blue, I just took their word and the movie poster for it. Unfortunately, it was the only place I could find to watch so I took what I could. The only reason I am giving it a four instead of a five is the ending sucked. I hated the ending. It just felt unnecessary and honestly really pissed me off. I don’t always need a happy ending but I also didn’t need that kind of ending either. I would still recommend it to those who like angst with some romance and a open-ish ending.

Seondal The Man Who Sells the River: 5

Trigger Warnings: Blood, Death, Vomit, Gore

Seondal is supposedly a comedy about a group of swindlers who become fast family after escaping from a war they were drafted in. They work together to swindle their way into riches and out of dangerous situations. They gained a huge name in the Joseon dynasty for even swindling the king. However, after tragedy strikes, they decide to do their greatest job yet, sell a river of fake gold.

The movie was really good, both funny and heartbreaking. My friend and I watched it together thinking it would be a nice comedy after we watched some sad kdrama earlier that week however, it was most certainly not. We both ended up crying and raging. So just be warned it claims to be a comedy and it is hilarious for the first half of the movie, however it quickly turns dark so fast you are just sitting their in shock wondering what happened. I thought Xiumin’s acting was great and his character was adorable. I had not seen his acting before and he easily became a favorite. The movie’s plot and writing kept you engaged and entertained throughout and the ending was great in my opinion. Overall it was a really good watch, I have seen it twice now and thoroughly enjoyed it. I highly recommend to those who enjoy both comedy and angst.

#kdrama review #review #kdrama #my strange hero #love alarm #founder of diabolism q #founder of diabolism #the untamed #the grandmaster of demonic cultivation #Imaginary cat #The magician #blood #seondal the man who sells the river #power rangers #power rangers dino force brave #legend hero #legend hero samgugjeon #legends heroes the three kingdoms

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otpnessmess · 4 years

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Of Casual Encounters And Late Nights Pt.2

Here it is! I don't know if it's as long as you wanted but it's almost double the first chapter. I hope you like it!

First Next Ao3

A week went by where Jason managed to avoid meeting Ladybug again while investigating, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t heard of her. Akuma attacks were as frequent as ever and gave him an opportunity to learn more about the terrors that had been plaguing Paris for years now apparently. He sent all new info on it to his family, who couldn’t believe none of it had reached them up until that point. Bruce was feeling particularly flabbergasted among them.

“You mean to tell me there’s been a terrorist in Paris for years, one that’s been destroying the city twice a week, and we knew absolutely nothing about it?” He seemed to be going through the seven stages of grief before excusing himself to call Diana.

Meanwhile, Jason’s brothers piled up in front of the computer screen wanting to hear more about the heroes and their work. Tim was looking up information on the internet while Dick asked questions nonstop about their powers, and their suits, and if he had had the chance to talk to them yet.

“They sometimes stay back after the attacks, but their powers have some kind of time limit so those are rare occasions, or so I’ve heard. They’re all proficient fighters and each have their own set of powers and weapon. Ladybug’s powers are the most impressive by far”

The mention of her name threw him right back into the memory of the night they first met. Despite resenting not being given an opening to talk to her more then, Jason had to admit leaving had been the right choice. He wanted to stay in the shadows as long as possible, and dealing with the police on his second night in the city wouldn’t have made that easy for him. Adding to that, even though he was quite stubborn and didn’t want to accept it, he felt curious about the spotted heroine. She was sassy and clever and, if the two battles she had this week were anything to go by, her abilities to strategize rivaled Tim’s.

He came back to the present with a jolt when Dick whined about him not paying attention, eliciting a snort from both him and Damian, who also looked at the eldest with a sneer. “You’re 29 Grayson, no one that age should be making those types of noises.” Jason would rather die than saying it out loud, but sometimes he did miss the dumbasses that were his brothers.

“You know, I don’t think we would have believed this was real even if someone had told us about it. I found a... Ladyblog? It has videos of almost every attack from the last 4 years as far as I can see, and these look every bit as outlandish as I expected them to. There’s this one where apparently the whole city was flooded.” Tim pulled up the video in the peripheral monitors for the others to see and, lo and behold, there was the video from the day Ondine had drowned Paris. Faint screams could be heard in the background as the person recording managed to get to the roof of a building just in time to see the people still left on the street be swiped by the giant wave. From then on it was all silent. “This is horrible, so many people must have died during this. How did they manage to recover? I’m sure the news of Paris underwater should’ve popped up SOMEWHERE.”

“They didn’t because it didn’t last more than an afternoon.” Jason ran a hand through his hair impatiently. The whole week he had been aching to go out as Red Hood but couldn’t risk meeting Ladybug and it was making him jittery. “That’s what Ladybug’s power is. She just….reverts everything. I haven’t been able to find out how yet, but I’ve been told it must be magic or some shit.”

“Reverts everything? Just like that? Like….turning back time?” Dick looked confused trying to come up with a rational explanation

“I don’t think so. Everyone except the victims remember everything that happened. It’s more of a cure, if you will. She fixes everything, makes a new Eiffel Tower appear, brings the dead back to life, you know, no big deal.” Jason couldn’t help but chuckle at their faces. “I know, if anyone tried to tell me this before I saw it myself I wouldn’t have believed it either.”

A moment of silence on his brothers’ end was interrupted by the return of Bruce. “Diana is positively furious right now. Apparently someone received a message from these heroes years ago and thought it was a joke, so they dismissed it. Diana asked to see the message and just unleashed hell on the poor guy after watching it. It seems her mother was a former Ladybug and she grew up knowing about the magic of the ‘Miraculous’” He said the word in a way that made his sons think he was as confused as they were “The League is planning to make a trip to Paris as soon as possible to assess the situation.”

Now that brought a frown to Jason’s face. “I know I’m usually the reckless one here, but listen to me for a moment. You’re just planning on barging in here, with an angry Wonder Woman, and a probably scared shitless League, to battle a guy who makes you his minion if you show the tiniest hint of a negative emotion? Imagine if Diana got akumatized. You must really want the apocalypse to start huh?”

He scanned their faces and wasn’t surprised to see skepticism and some smirks too. This was so not typical of him. Jason was a shoot first, ask second kinda guy, and he used to enjoy killing a little too much for it to be healthy. But he remembered what Ladybug had told him about resorting to the least amount of violence possible, and he was honestly worried about what could happen if three dozen superheroes just showed up one day to a fight. “Listen, as far as I can see, Ladybug and her team have things covered here. Give me some time to gather more information and maybe I can find a way for her and Red Hood to have a meeting. I’ll ask her if she still wants our help. But until then, you should refrain from bringing anyone here. Unless you want panic to run rampant among the citizens because the whole Justice League came.”

Snickers could be heard coming from Tim and Dick. Even Damian was trying not to show his amusement at the situation. “Who would’ve thought Todd actually had a brain. We should go if only to check whether he’s been replaced by a clone or something”

“Oh fuck off Demon Spawn, I can be smart too if I want to."

Their father seemed to be mulling over his words before sighing and nodding. “Alright. I think we can go along with what you said for now, but I want you to keep us updated regularly, and to inform us if something out of the ordinary happens. If you need us there, we’ll be on alert. And I expect that meeting with Ladybug to happen sooner rather than later. Also don’t forget why you’re originally there, we have to gather more information on what the Penguin is planning."

“You got it Brucie.” He made fingers guns at the screen with a click of his tongue. “Expect it to be at least a week until I have some big news for you, but I’ll try to make it happen as quickly as possible. And worry not about my mission, I’m almost done with it. Now my dear family, if you’ll excuse me, it’s already 2am and I would like to pretend to be a tourist at least for a day tomorrow. I’ll let you know if something comes up.”

He quickly ended the call and face planted on his bed. This was going to be a long mission. One week in and he was already exhausted. He wasn’t lying when he said he was close to finishing the mission he was originally sent to Paris for, though. He had infiltrated the goons quickly and efficiently, and managed to hear about a drug shipment due to arrive in a couple weeks together with a human one. As soon as he got the information as to where he’d call his family and they could resolve the problem easily. For now though, he couldn’t help but want to keep them away a bit longer. Be it because, even though he loved his brothers (not that he’d ever tell them), he wanted some time alone, or be it because he wanted more time to try and figure out Ladybug, he still wasn’t completely sure.

If you asked him, he would deny it to his dying breath that he was interested in the heroine, but something about her made him want to get closer and know more about her. In spite of the great amount of knowledge the public had on her, she was surrounded by an aura of mystery and something else that Jason couldn’t pinpoint, which had him turning in his sleep ever since that encounter in the alley. It also didn’t help that she seemed to be around the same age as him, her suit doing her great favours in all her red and black. Alright. Maybe he thought she was a bit attractive. Very attractive?

“No. Nope. Not going there.” He got up and decided to ignore that part of his brain as of now. For no particular reason whatsoever. It was only normal to want to know more about the person protecting the city. Call it a professional interest, thank you very much.

The dark haired man decided to take advantage of having an expensive suite for once and took a long bath while doing some more research on Paris. He was indeed planning to walk around the city the next day after all. When he was done, Jason headed to the bed and fell asleep promptly. Dreams full of back alleys and superheroes.

As luck would have it, it didn’t take long for the both of them to meet yet again. Only maybe not in the way the Gotham vigilante would have hoped for. Set on at least enjoying this pseudo-vacation he was gifted, Jason left his hotel the next morning to visit the most popular places in the city. The Louvre, the Eiffel Tower, the Arc of Triumph and the Champs Élysées were the places he had chosen to visit during the morning and early afternoon, but, even though his main goal was to distract himself from the tasks at hand, he couldn’t will away the questions roaming around his head.

How was he going to contact Ladybug? He wanted to do it as Red Hood, but he didn’t want the heroine of Paris to distrust him since he was pretty sure his reputation would precede him. He was known for being the most ruthless of the batfam, the only thing keeping him from killing criminals once he was done with them was Batman’s No killing under any kind of circumstances rule (which if you asked him was a special kind of bullshit, some of them did deserve to rot in hell in his opinion), and he wasn’t sure if Ladybug would be as willing to hear him out as she may one of his brothers or father. However, his only other option would be to approach her as Jason Todd, one of Bruce Wayne’s adopted sons. He didn’t even know whether Ladybug would care about his family name. This wasn’t his city. And on the off chance that she might have recognized him… He was still a mere civilian. One that had, on top of that, to explain his connection to the Gotham vigilantes without giving away any of their identities. Jason knew his hands were tied. Red Hood had to be the one to try and get the attention of the spotted hero. Knowing there was no other option didn't make him happy about it though.

Once he was done with this line of thinking his brain decided to go back to the Penguin. He was trying to instill one of the worst types of businesses in Paris and he couldn’t wait to put a stop to it. As much as he knew drug trafficking to be terrible, he was of the opinion that people who engaged in (as well as profited off of) human trafficking should have a special circle of hell destined for them. Preferably in the very depths of it.

Jason was very much aware that, for as long as he remained in this city, negative emotions had to be controlled and dissipated as quickly as possible to avoid an akumatization. Especially those of someone with the skills and knowledge he had. He had a lot of the latter in strange topics, most of which he acquired growing up during his training. And albeit he wasn’t sure whether it would actually be useful to Hawkmoth or not, he would rather not put it to the test. All of this, however, was sent to the back burner for a second as Jason's thoughts strayed towards what he would like to do to the Gotham villain when he captured him.

Being so busy imagining the 30 different methods of torture he would like to inflict upon the Penguin had made him completely disregarded his surroundings, however. Coming back to his senses, his brain pointed out they were standing at the door of what seemed like a very nice patisserie, just in time for his stomach to growl, his lunch seemingly having been digested some time ago.

‘Maybe something sweet is exactly what I need right now’

Some days had passed since Marinette met Jason, and though he was still burning in the back of her mind, she had way too many things to worry about during the day to remember him often. At night, however, the questions she had originally asked herself the first night continued to plague her, and since Tikki told her not to worry about it too much, the designer saw wise to keep her train of thought to herself. She wasn’t even sure why her brain seemed so fixed on this stranger she had only met once. Sure, he was involved in a fight, and seemed to be a foreigner, but it wasn’t that uncommon for petty altercations to break out around the city while she patrolled. Also this was Paris, for Kwamis’ sake. One of the biggest tourist capitals of the world. There was no reason why this Jason guy should’ve stuck to her mind as he did. Yet here she was. In the middle of her afternoon shift at the bakery. Still thinking about him.

A chime coming from the door brought her out of her stupor. But as she looked up, ready to greet the new customer, she suddenly froze, and her brain could only supply her with the word green.

Green eyes she had only got a quick glance into a week ago were now in front of her and the color was even more intense as they reflected the sunlight rays that entered through the bakery’s windows.

There you have it peeps and pals! I'll try to update sometime again this week in between Daminette December.

Tag list:

@18-fandoms-unite-08 @bamagirl513 @j-a-n-e--d-o-e @dawnwave16

#jasonette #jason x marinette #maribat #of casual encounters and late nights #miraculous ladybug #part 2 #liswrites #ml x dc #marinette dupain cheng #marinette dupain-cheng #jason todd

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nomnomsik · 5 years

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To Catch a Dream - (11)

It’s difficult for Yoongi, who’s completely infatuated with you, to quietly remain your college friend. With a slow appearance of unusual tendencies in him, he realizes what he needs to do to attain his dream. However, jealousy and possession are universal in everyone.

Word Count: 2.9K

A/N: A Turning point.

Trigger warning: physical pain, emotional manipulation, panic attack, profanity, needles, yandere themes. Please do not read if you are sensitive to these topics.

Ever since the night of the graduation, you officially moved in with Yoongi. It was his same empty apartment, but the only thing that was different was the photo frame that sat on his coffee table. Ever since his outburst, Yoongi had returned to his usual reserved self, always giving you a small smile when he came back home to see you all wrapped up in his blankets. Your skin was still aching from his little marks and bites. Though, to you, it was relieving that things were slowly getting better. Everything could be back to how they usually were.

Even before graduation, Yoongi was lucky enough to receive several job offers. One specifically came from an organization he had always wanted to work with. As you dumped all the other mail off on the kitchen counter one afternoon, you tore open the letter. You read its contents, happy to see he had been accepted.

When Yoongi walked in later that day, his body hunched as his bag dropped onto the floor, you pointed at the envelope. His face was bright and you could still remember the way his lips curled up and his cheeks stuck out. It was as if he couldn’t believe it himself. A part inside of you couldn’t help but be envious.

On the other hand, you still contemplated with your future. Yoongi had reassured you to take your time, promising to take care of you no matter how long it took. Then again, Yoongi had suggested that you should stay home. Ever since that incident with Jimin, you were aware of his worries and anxiousness. It was as if he needed to make sure nothing like that would happen again. You didn’t really understand how that equated to you needing to stay at home, but you knew Yoongi as a man who enjoyed pampering you.

Your personality didn’t change, in fact, you didn’t want to change the person you were either. But, you couldn’t help the lingering feeling of caution whenever you spoke to him. There was guilt in your eyes whenever you met Yoongi’s stare from across the room. The memory lingered in your mind as you remembered Jimin’s soft lips on yours and the horrible reality that you didn’t throw him off. After all, you were a cheater like he said.

Yoongi had carefully and sternly instructed you to not leave the apartment. You had felt wronged when he told you, but when you were about to retort, your mouth failed you. No words could leave and to make matters worse, your throat constricted painfully.

But you didn’t listen to him. ‘What was the point?’ you would argue to yourself. Why should you listen? Why should your freedom be restricted just because of what he said? It wouldn’t matter as long as he never caught you. It wouldn’t matter if he never knew in the first place. How mad would he even get?

That day, you dressed and left, strolling around the streets of the city. You were humming to yourself as you had a sweet drink from one of the cafes in the city, your feet carrying you around the corner.

However, as you waited during the second phase of rush hour for the next metro, you felt a chill down your back. You suddenly felt self-conscious and it was as if you were being watched. You looked both left and right, feeling your heart drop as you saw a familiar bucket hat in the distance.

You took several steps back, turning away from the platform. You could feel your heart thumping in your chest as you realized you were about to get caught. With a sudden push of the crowd, you busted your way through, hurrying up the stairs. As you turned your head to check behind you, you expected to see him chasing after you. But you soon realized, that your eyes merely played you.

Your heartbeat relaxed, yet you couldn’t go back down the stairs. Instead, you headed back home, dragging your feet into the apartment and closing the door. It was simple after that. You didn’t sneak out again. It felt better to not have this constant feeling of paranoia looming over you. In a way, you also enjoyed staying in, escaping from your problems for a few hours a day.

One particular morning, you were awakened from your afternoon nap with the ringing of your phone. You groaned, turning over to the side, your arm reaching for the device even when hair fell overtop of your face.

“Hello?” You groaned, your throat dry and weak.

“Hi, y/n… Were you sleeping?”

“Mmm…” You hummed.

“Well, y/n. We need to talk. It’s an emergency. Come pay us a visit.”

You cocked your head to the side, eyebrows furrowing. “Emergency? What’s wrong?”

“We’ll talk about it when you get here.”

“Mm, okay. Bye, mom.”

“Bye~”

With a click of the phone, you brought the silent receiver down from your ear. You tossed it on the mattress, stretching both arms above your head. As you stood up, your body wobbled, feet dragging behind you. You tossed on whatever your hand immediately grabbed and walked back to retrieve your phone.

You pulled up Yoongi’s contact, fingers typing away a message.

You: I’m going to visit my mother. She called me. I’ll be back later.

Before you clicked off your phone, it vibrated alerting you immediately of Yoongi’s reply.

Yoonyoon: No.

You looked at your phone confusingly as you shut the door to the apartment shut, locking the front door. Did he mistake you for someone else?

Yoonyoon: Don’t go, y/n.

You: Are you okay? Do you know what you’re saying?

Your feet carried you until you slid your card through, waiting for the train to ride you back to the suburban area. Your phone vibrated again in your pocket as you saw another notification from Yoongi.

Yoonyoon: Are you still home?

You: No I’m waiting to board the train.

Then suddenly, a barrage of messages flooded your phone. You felt the multiple vibrations in your hand as you just stared at the dozen of messages that popped up.

Yoonyoon: You better go back home.

Yoonyoon: NOW.

Yoonyoon: I’m not joki gn y/n

Yoonyoon: Go home. I swear

Yoonyoon: I swear if you’re not home when I get there.

You nervously stood there, the train pulling up from the corner of your eye.

You: We’ll discuss this later, okay?

Yoonyoon: NO COME BACK HOME NOW

Yoonyoon: I swear to god if you're not home when I’m back there

Before your eyes checked the next message, you boarded the train, taking a seat near the door. When you looked back at your phone, your stomach fell.

Yoonyoon: I’m leaving work and coming home now

Yoonyoon: You better be back when I’m there

You just stared at his recent message, unable to reply back. Your hands shook and your heart felt like it was breaking into pieces. Why is he acting like this? Why is he being so irrational? A small frown formed on your face as your breathing increased. Why is he acting this way? Why? Your head felt light as the beginning of a headache began to form. Your chest hurt, a burn flashing flooding your vision as you struggled to hold on as the train jerked forward.

Tears streamed down your face as you experienced a panic attack. What had you just done? Yoongi was now angry. You wouldn’t be home because you decided to be stubborn and not listen to him. You decided that it was better to disregard his feelings and concerns, just for your own selfish needs. Hadn’t you already been selfish enough? Hadn’t you already hurt him enough? All he wanted was to make sure you still were loyal and trustworthy, yet you couldn’t even listen to him once. You broke his heart and yet you couldn’t do the right thing.

You felt humiliated by the small group of people who stared at your crying face. They only looked at you with pity, not wanting to involve themselves in your problem. Nowadays, people didn’t want to be involved in your problems. As long as it didn’t concern them, what was the point?

You had refused to look back at your phone. You were too scared and weak, too much of a coward to face things. It was always like this. You were always running away from confrontation because you were a coward. Do you remember what you did when your classmates decided to conspire against you, even though their argument was completely valid? You ran. You ran because you were always weak from the beginning. If things weren’t going your way, you defied. It was something ingrained in you. You always got revenge in the end.

As you opened the front door to your warm home, you were greeted by two pairs of strong arms that embraced you.

“Hi, mom and dad.” You mumbled into their arms.

“Hi, now come. We have to talk about things.” Your mother ushered you into the dining room table, the same space where you had sat with Yoongi. As you took a seat, both of your parents sat across you, your mother with her hands folded on the table.

“We’re worried, y/n. Is everything fine with you and Yoongi?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, we heard about what happened during graduation… And-”

Ah… This is embarrassing.

“Mom, I think I know what you’re going to say, but I can assure you that I am not cheating on Yoongi. We talked about it together and I promise we resolved it and talked it out.” You stated as a matter of factly, afraid that they might disapprove your relationship.

If only they knew what you had just gone through. How disappointed they would be.

“That’s relieving to hear, y/n. After all, Yoongi has done so much for you. He takes care of you and lets you stay in his apartment without having to pay anything in return. Are you two planning to…?” Your mother sighed in relief.

“Y-yes…Hopefully, I think we’re probably going to get married. He and I talk about it a lot.”

“Oh, and y/n, make extra sure you two get married, okay?” She clasped her hands together in glee, squealing as if she, herself, was getting engaged. “That’ll make me really happy. I’m so happy for you!”

“Honey, don’t pressure her so much. She’s still so young-” Your father reasoned, feeling uncomfortable.

“You shush! Don’t ruin her chances!” Your mother snapped, hitting his shoulder. Your father flinched, bowing his head down in obedience. “See, this is why you need me.”

Your mother redirected her attention back to you, smiling again.

“Remember y/n, Yoongi is a very ideal partner for you. Why would you go and give him up for someone who’ll call you sensitive and weak? You do cry a lot. Do you think any man will want a weak-willed woman?”

You gulped, looking down at your lap.

“...No…”

»»————- ♡ ————-««

Yoongi anxiously unlocked the front door of his apartment, yanking it open. He was met with an empty living room and discarded blankets. He clenched his jaw, his hands forming into fists as he threw his bag onto the ground.

He thoroughly checked every room, only to find nothing. Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he clicked onto your contact, desperate for any message back. There was nothing. He brought his phone up to his ear and he dialed your number, biting the tips of his nails.

He sat there, his legs bouncing up and down until he was greeted with the cheerful voice of your voicemail. Yoongi sighed, throwing his phone down onto the sofa as he buried his hands in his hair.

“She’s going to leave me… She’s going to leave me!” He wailed, rocking his body back and forth. “She...She’s probably talking about marrying Jimin instead… That’s why that’s why…!” He screamed, tugging onto his hair even harder than before.

“It’s over… Everything, I did… It’s going to be all for nothing…” Yoongi groaned as he stumbled into his office room. “I can’t… I can’t let that happen.” He pulled open a cabinet drawer, his eyes going black and out of focus.

“It’d rather kill her than let her leave.”

»»————- ♡ ————-««

It was late at night when you had finally arrived back in the city. The hour and a half commute tiring out your body. How you couldn’t wait to just fall down on the piles of blankets and soft cushions. But, the only thing that kept you alert was Yoongi.

Your mind raced with thoughts and scenarios that played in your mind. How would react? He seemed really angry and different overall. He had never acted that way before and you couldn’t forget the fact he had made you cry out in fear.

As the elevator ascended, you grabbed your key. The elevator door opened with a ding, your feet walking on the soft red carpet of the hallway. It was always strange to you that you had never seen another person walking on this floor. There was always an elevator ready and despite living on this floor, you had at least expected to run into someone. But, you didn’t.

With a harsh snap, you flipped the key, unlocking the front door. Immediately, you were greeted with a darkness that contrasted the bright hallway.

Is he sleeping?

You poked your heart in, slowly pushing the door all the way. You jumped, immediately spotting the dark figure that sat on the couch. You could make out Yoongi’s body from the light that seeped in from windows.

“Yoongi? What are you d-doing up so late?” You stuttered, slowly closing the apartment door shut. “You have work tomorrow…”

Yoongi didn’t move from his spot on the couch nor did he lift his head up.

“Yoongi?...” The air was quiet and still in the night. The only lights came from the other buildings in the city. The whole entire room was filled with dark blue, the curtains open to fully display the faded night sky. “O-oh, that’s right. My mother wanted to see me. We were talking abou-”

You faltered as Yoongi rose from the couch, slowly walking over to you. You subconsciously took several steps back. It was a sensation you had never felt before with him. Why did you feel so scared? Why did you feel like he could hurt you right now?

“Why didn’t you listen to me?” He muttered, his bangs covering his eyes. Your lip quivered as you stared up at him. He grit upon no response. “Hmm? Well? Are you going to answer me?”

“Well… I mean, I was already on the train when you told me you were coming back…” You whispered, your voice fading out. You back hit the door frame and your left hand reached for the doorknob behind you.

“So you left the apartment first and then decided to tell me?” He accused, almost an arm’s length away from you. “You couldn’t listen to my instructions?”

“Yoongi, why are you acting like this?” You whimpered. This didn’t feel safe. Everything in your body screamed at you. His dark expression, his harsh voice, and his stance terrified you. You couldn’t even see his expression to study the emotions he was going through.

GET OUT. RUN. THIS ISN’T RIGHT.

In an instant, you turned around, pulling the door open in an attempt to sprint out. Before you could get your other foot at the door, you were grabbed back in.

“Ahh!” You screamed as an intense pain shot through your scalp as Yoongi grabbed onto your hair and threw you back in.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going? Are you going to run away to him? Huh?! Do you think I’m going to let you run back to Jimin?!” He seethed, his voice rising in intensity.

As you collided with the floor, Yoongi slammed the door shut, locking it. You instinctively brought your hands up to your head in an attempt to cradle the pain from the impact. You cried from the pain, tears running down your face.

“What are you talking about?!” You screamed back, your voice cracking multiple times. “What does Jimin have to do with this?! I was talking about when we would marry, you asshole!” You grabbed onto your shirt, the pain shooting through your body. “Ahh, it hurts. Everything hurts…” You cried, your body failing to respond to your commands.

Yoongi stumbled forward, wrapping his arms you and taking a whiff of your scent. You felt the way his muscles relaxed as he embraced you.

“I’m happy, y/n… But… That doesn’t mean I’m letting you disobeying me slide.” He murmured in your ear. Yoongi reached for his belt, sliding out a syringe, fully filled with a clear liquid. You tensed, shuffling and trying to push him away as the needle approached.

“Wait, wait, what… No! No! Stop, stop! Please!” You screamed, fearing the image of a sharp prick piercing your skin. Yoongi brought it down with so much force he had to cover your mouth from the scream. He watched as your body spasmed from the impact. He administered a small amount before dropping your body onto the ground.

“Now you’ll know how I feel… It’s all because I love you.”

“So much.”

Chapter 12

#yandere bts #yandere yoongi #yandere yoongi x reader #to catch a dream #yoongi x reader #yandere suga #suga x reader #yoongi #bts fanfiction #bts series #bts writing #yandere suga x reader #yandere yoongi x you #yoongi x you

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amysubmits · 4 years

Note

Your fit with CD seems nearly perfect... from your relationship before you were formally D/s to now. But could you give examples where things were/are hard? Not just short term to agree his "command" or him to meet your need, but a long term compromise or conflict that needed working out? After all, you are both human with your own needs. I don't mean CD's initial concerns about having a formal D/s or DD relationship, but more "real" areas that make the D/s hard at times?

Our relationship certainly isn’t perfect so I feel bad if that’s been your take away.

Since starting D/s I’d say our biggest hurdle was with him watching our rules. I’m not the type of submissive who can self-report everything and feel like he is invested in the rules. It took us something like a year and a half to two years after we started DD before he started really putting effort into checking if the rules were followed. He basically was consistent for a while about 2 years in ad saw how much it helped our relationship so that helped him to keep with it a lot better but it’s not perfect still, and we rely on the OurHome app to make it a bit easier on both ends..but it’s only practical to use for certain rules. So we’ve had to somewhat meet in the middle where he recognizes that I need him to watching the rules as consistently as he reasonably can, but then I’ve also had to recognize that it’s not fair of me to put SO much focus on that either. Basically, my brain wants to tell me that if he cares about the rules he’ll watch them like a hawk. But the reality is that I know if he notices a rule is broken he’ll care a LOT..and that’s proof that he cares. And also if he didn’t care enough about the rules then he would normally no watch them. Where since that 18-moth or 2-year ish mark he’s always been watching pretty well just not constantly. So if/when in practice there is a case where he doesn’t catch one random broke rule? I have to just let him know and also remind myself that even though that behavior sort of triggers a ‘doesn’t care’ feeling that it is not actually true.

It’s not really about our differing needs but it makes D/s hard - I have anxiety/trauma issues that are specific to speaking up for my own needs. So if I have a need that isn’t being met my reaction is to basically panic and emotionally hide/shut off/shut down instead of reach out because my anxiety tells me that if I ask for what I need from someone I will be attacked. If he recognizes that I’m ‘off’ he can and will try to reach out to me to encourage me to open up. But he’s not a mind reader and withholding information about my needs can cause harm to me and/or our relationship. So whether he recogizes that I have something I need to share or not, I have to dig deep and push through the fear and ask him for what I want regardless of how scared I am. When this happens it is a relatively quickly resolved thing (meaning I find the courage and tell him relatively quickly like within a week or whatever at least) but that doesn’t solve the overall issue of me reacting that way so that is an ongoing struggle.

I’m a bit limited in how much I’m willing to share about our lives outside of our relationship..anyone reading this please don’t message me about my dad...I appreciate people wanting to support but I don’t wish to speak to people about it much at all.* Anyway... I’ve mentioned briefly here and there that my dad is dying. He was diagnosed about 16 months ago and frankly, it’s been the hardest year and a half of my adult life. And it’s a lot on CD too because he isn’t just dealing with me struggling as a result of this but he loves my dad too and they have their own relationship sort of separation of me. So naturally, that amount of stress is going to have an impact our relationship. The biggest one being...CD and I both process our emotions internally and need to decompress and have time to ourselves to process difficult emotions. However, our D/s is at it’s best (ad most powerful feeling) when we are both very emotionally intimate with each other, when we are both “in the moment” with each other while we are interacting, etc. But it takes a lot of extra effort to reach that emotionally vulnerable place when we’re stressed...it’s like we harden a bit and it takes more to soften us. So finding a balance between just facing the reality that we have to face each day right now but also making space to *regularly* feel that raw openness that we both love and that our D/s thrives on is not easy to get right sometimes.

*I’m not interested in talking about my dad and his health issues. I am open to talking about our D/s changes over the last year and a half as a result of that stress though.

Those are the big ones I think. But yes..many of my blog posts that discuss struggles also talk about pretty quick fixes. We really do find that just taking time to analyze our own emotional reactions and/or to talk about our needs and wants is a relatively quick solution to most things. Those are still very real to me though. Like when I struggle to accept an order? That’s still really tough in that moment even though I can step back and fix my perspective and then be okay? It’s not at all easy when those emotions are peaking.

#asks #d/s #domestic discipline

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euphemeria · 5 years

Text

Silence (YR 1.5) - Resolve

I’ve been held up in writing because of this pain and anxiety, and what’s going on in Japan atm. I wish I could finish putting this together before ao3 deletes the draft from my account, but I think I’ll have to put off finishing this fic for a bit.

Tossing his phone aside, Ichigo heaves himself up from the sofa to answer the door. Padding bare-footed towards the genkan, Ichigo doesn't even bother checking who it is before swinging the door open, so it comes as a complete surprise when it’s Rukia on the other side.

"R-Rukia." Ichigo sputters, caught off guard. He would almost believe that he’s hallucinating—it wouldn’t be the first time--if it wasn’t for Ise standing at the end of his floor, on-guard.

Inclining her head in polite greeting, Rukia remains standing outside his apartment instead of barging in like she usually would. Ichigo straightens up at that tiny, yet significant observation.

"Come inside." Ichigo suggests, stepping aside to allow Rukia inside. When she passes him, Ichigo catches the hint of cigarettes cloaked by the scent of something airy and flowery. Perfume; something Rukia has never worn, something different about her within these two weeks. Ichigo can only wonder what else has changed about her within this time, saddened by the thought that she might not be the same Rukia from before anymore.

"You can take a seat in the living room." Ichigo informs her after watching her just stand there, pointing to the couch she used to pay homage to without any prompting.

"I'll make us some tea, so just make yourself comfortable." Ichigo explains with his back turned, already retreating to the kitchen before the end of his sentence, leaving Rukia still standing in his living room.

In the safety of another room--even though the kitchen is a part of the living room--Ichigo tries to recollect his thoughts before facing Rukia. Just last week, Ichigo was hoping for her to appear before him, eyes filled with reassurances and forgiving smiles. Now, it's like Ichigo's made peace with it--if she didn't show up in front of him for the rest of his life, he would've been fine with it--but now that she's actually here, Ichigo's not too sure what to do or how to feel even though he's played all these scenarios out in his head.

With a sigh of resignation, Ichigo decides to banish all expectations and possibilities from his head. Nothing good will come out of it. Rukia is here at his door, in his apartment now and they need to resolve this now.

"Here." Ichigo sets the tea down in-between them on the chabudai, taking up his usual spot when she's over by habit: across from her, on the floor of his own apartment.

Rukia hesitantly reaches out to touch the ceramic yunomi, stroking the familiar crack on the side of the cups from when she tried to prepare tea the one and only time in Ichigo's apartment. Ichigo didn't realize he had picked out that particular set when making the tea and almost regrets it if Rukia hadn't wistfully smiled at the memory associated with these tea cups.

"How have you been?" Ichigo can't help asking, picking up his cup just so he can have something to do or hold on to.

Rukia doesn't answer his question, suddenly lost in the depth of her tea. Ichigo almost considers asking her again, thinking that she might not have heard the first time, but then she looks up from her tea and speaks slowly, enunciating every word distinctly, "Not well, but I think I'm doing better."

Ichigo's eyes widen in surprise. This is the first time he's heard her speak in all the time he has noticed her and after they became acquainted. He was even starting to think that she couldn’t speak. It might not have been loud, more like a whisper, but he’s awed speechless nonetheless. His thoughts must be written all over his face since she grins knowingly at him from over the rim of her teacup.

"Have you been playing me all along?" Ichigo coughs, embarrassed. He probably had his jaw flapping like a fish, no wonder she couldn't hide her smile.

With a guilty look, Rukia looks away from Ichigo while biting her lips. He mentally berates himself for being insensitive. It clearly wasn't her intention to mislead him. It’s his fault for making assumptions.

"I--" Rukia struggles to get the words out, feeling them lodge up in her throat. She keeps trying again, but she can never get past the first word and must wonder after the seventh try if she sounds like a broken record—annoying and grating to the ears. Self-conscious, she wishes a hole would open up and swallow her right now. Regrettably, her body grants her request with the tell-tale signs of a panic attack: the chill before the all-consuming hot flush, heart palpitations, breathlessness, and recognizable tingling in her fingers, feet, and back of her mind that would only spread soon and render her paralyzed.

"Rukia."

Rukia opens her eyes upon hearing her name, looking for Ichigo, who's no longer sitting across the table, instead hovering beside her.

"Rukia. You need to breathe." Ichigo instructs, seating himself next to her and laying his hand against her stomach.

"Deep breaths from where my hand is, ok?" Ichigo guides, demonstrating it with himself so she can time her breathing with his. He continues to keep his hand on her diaphragm to make sure she's taking deep breaths, enough to calm her and loosen her chest muscles so every breath isn't constricting her heart.

"Better?" Ichigo checks, noticing how her pallor looks better.

Nodding, Rukia slumps back onto the sofa she's seated on, drained.

Reassured, Ichigo stands to give her some space, but not before flicking her forehead.

'Ow!' Rukia mouths, glaring up at Ichigo, 'What was that for?!'

"For working yourself up into a frenzy that you almost had a panic attack in my living room, on my couch." he explains, implying how he didn't want her corpse in his apartment. Offended, Rukia sits up to voice her outrage about how it was out of her control and--

Pushing her back down, Ichigo scowls at her with a look that shuts her up, 'I wasn't done.'

"And also, that I'm sorry for not realizing sooner and being a bad friend all-around."

Rukia shakes her head, disagreeing. Those should be her words.

"One last thing," he continues, completely disregarding anything she has to say on this matter until he can finish articulating his thoughts and feelings after almost witnessing her have another episode, "You don't need to explain yourself. I don't understand why you need to, but I suppose if it'll make you feel better or you want to be honest, I can understand, but if it's at the cost of something, I don't need to hear it. I just want to know that you're alright, that's all I need. And if you're not, I want you to tell me," he emphasizes that last part with a steel look.

"We're friends, right?" Ichigo asks carefully, eyes kind.

Rukia feels something fill her eyes and obscure her vision, but quickly wills it back when she recognizes them as tears. She hasn't cried since grade school. She had always thought her tears dried up ever since that incident, but it must be because no one has ever been able to touch her heart with all the walls she's built around it. No one until Ichigo.

"Baka..." Rukia whispers brokenly, hiding her face underneath her arms.

And somehow with that insult, Ichigo knows they'll be fine, retreating so they can both have their own space, taking their cold tea with him so he can brew them a fresher, warmer one.

Meanwhile, Rukia’s mentally berating herself for letting her emotions get the best of her, letting her guard down and showing her vulnerability. The walls around her heart were built specifically for that reason, to protect herself from all of that. She wouldn’t have made it this far without them. Her heart would’ve been shredded to pieces by the whims of people that call themselves her family, classmates, friends---

~VIBRATE~ ~VIBRATE~ ~VIBRATE~ VIBRATE~ VIBRAT--~

Rukia gasps, sitting up abruptly while feeling around behind her for the device that startled her.

Ichigo's mobile phone and Inoue Orihime calling.

Scanning Ichigo's apartment for the aforementioned man, she spots the shock of orange in the kitchen, probably putting away the dishes. Standing up on wobbly legs, she pads towards the kitchen, approaching Ichigo to give him the incessantly buzzing device.

Just like her to be not-so-suble, she presses the buzzing device up against his sides, startling him in turning around and grabbing at the object in question: her wrist holding his phone. He’s prepared to question her, but with a raise of her brow, Rukia switches her gaze between Ichigo and his phone, ‘Someone’s calling you, you idiot.’

Without looking at the caller, only a mumbled comment of, ‘This woman,’ Ichigo takes his mobile device from her and answers, “Yeah?”

“Oh! Kurosaki-kun!” Orihime greets through the phone, surprise laced in her voice that he picked up her call. He wasn’t answering her messages earlier so she didn’t think he would answer her call either, but she was worried when he didn’t message back to let her know if he was ok. Then her imagination started going off on its own and honestly, who knocks on someone’s door this late into the night? Only serial killers and bloodthirsty neighbors.

“Inoue?” Ichigo flickers his eyes briefly to his guest who’s looking up at him curiously. Reflexively, he turns away from Rukia so she can’t read in on his conversation with Orihime. Not that he cares, really.

“I-I-I was worried because you didn’t answer my messages! You’re not in trouble are you, Kurosaki-kun?” Orihime struggles to find her words as her mind continues wracking up all these scenarios of Ichigo and his unexpected guest.

Reminded, he feels apologetic for having worried her, “Ah. Sorry, Inoue. I’m fine. You don’t have to worry anymore.”

“Thank goodness!”

“We’ll talk more about it tomorrow, yeah?” Ichigo hastens to end their phone call when Rukia peers over behind him, wide eyes tracking his lips and nervousness.

“Mm.” Orihime agrees, but can’t help her curiosity, “Who was it?”

“A friend. We’re catching up is all, so I got distracted.” Ichigo answers, cupping his hand over his mouth when Rukia proves persistent.

“Oh.”

“Sorry. They kind of came unexpectedly.” Ichigo explains when he notices the drop in octave of the caller’s usually chipper voice.

At Rukia's suggestive eyebrow waggle and devious smirk, Ichigo flushes and hastens to end his conversation with Orihime, "I'll talk to you tomorrow, Inoue."

BEEP

"There's nothing between me and Inoue." Ichigo finds himself saying first. Rukia doesn't believe it, Ichigo surmises with the unfazed expression etched on her face.

"We just message each other here and there. I'm kind of looking after her for Tatsuki." Ichigo continues to explain, unobservant of how he's digging his own hole deeper.

'Suuuuuuuuure.' Rukia's eyes mock in an exaggerated eye roll, reverting back to their former communication with looks and gestures.

"It's true!" Ichigo defends, more bothered than he thought at the idea of Rukia assuming him together with Orihime.

To prove that he's not fooling anyone, Rukia grabs at Ichigo's phone to validate her presumption.

"Oi! What are you doing?" Ichigo chides his friend, chasing after her--his phone--as she thumbs it open, passcode unprotected.

Clicking on his messages, Rukia shows Ichigo his latest message from Orihime:

Inoue Orihime 23:37 You're welcomed to stay at my place, Kurosaki-kun.

Above that are eleven other unread messages from the last time Ichigo messaged her, so there's probably a context in there somewhere to that last message, but if read by itself there could be a misunderstanding. Ichigo prepares to round on Rukia to point that out, but pauses, thinking back to when and how Rukia would've seen the message if they were talking earlier. That last message was sent consecutively with the other messages, right after he went to open the door, so the only way Rukia could have saw the message would to be to unlock his phone personally while he wasn't looking--

Ichigo looks down at her in understanding, "You snoop!"

Rukia dances out of his reaches, his phone still a hostage in her hands. 'You don't have to be shy!' Rukia's eyes laugh once she faces him.

For some reason, he feels an inexplicable indignation boil over inside him and he snarls, "We're not together!", before lunging at Rukia for his phone.

Caught off guard by Ichigo's vehemence, Rukia trips over her own unsteady feet in her haste to escape. Falling backwards, she can only shut her eyes and brace for the impact of the fall to come.

A fall that never comes.

Opening her eyes, Rukia realizes Ichigo cushioned her fall, but now she has 66kg of male mass atop her, crushing her, quite deliberately too. Ichigo ignores Rukia's harmless slaps against his shoulder to get him to ease off, torturing her in a bit of fun and retribution. Rukia isn’t amused and continues to beat and slap her dainty hands anywhere she can reach him: his shoulders, back, chest, arms, face. Conserving her strength for breathing though, her attacks don’t hurt so Ichigo takes it all in stride until it satisfies his revenge. Appeased, he lifts the bulk of his weight off her, hovering over Rukia as she catches her breath.

'You. Fat. Ass.' Rukia glares, red-faced.

"You shouldn't have started a fight you wouldn't be able to win." Ichigo rebuts, even though he's just now comprehending that this was all a trap to agitate him like she always did, will continue to do, the bane of his existence.

'I always win.' Rukia corrects him, eyes crinkling in mirth. Ichigo doesn't bother to correct her, smiling down at her fondly and committing this moment to memory, especially the way she looks so happy and free.

‘Only because I let you.’ Ichigo wants to tell her, but can’t gather the confidence to say because it feels like he’ll be crossing a line that can’t be uncrossed once crossed.

Curious about what’s going through Ichigo’s head, Rukia taps the side of his temple along with a tilt of her head, causing her long hair to fall behind her right ear from the movement and pull of gravity, exposing a vulnerable part of her, inadvertently. It doesn’t go unnoticed by Ichigo either.

It's brief, but the orange-head is certain he caught a glimpse of something in Rukia's ear. Just to make sure though he brushes his hand over her cheek in indication of what he's doing.

Rukia's elation evaporates in a matter of nanoseconds when she feels the tips of his fingers brush near her earlobe. Her body freezes as her violet eyes go wide, every muscle in her taut and even Ichigo can feel the sudden tension suffocating the woman below him. Immediately, he pulls his hand away from her face, but she is quicker than him, her hand grasping onto his retreating one. She brings it back up to her face, her gaze soft and calm even if her quaking body and trembling fingers say otherwise.

With her permission, Ichigo tucks her hair behind her right ear to better examine what he saw earlier. Unable to see anything, he leans closer over her to have a better look; he can't help but smile at the breathlessness he hears from her at their proximity. He can even hear her smile when his hair tickles her nose and his heart soars, only to plummet when he realizes what it is he's seeing.

A scar that appears to be from some kind of messy tearing, if the deep, jagged scars around her concha are any indication. Against her pale skin, the dark, raised lines are an obvious contrast; it's no wonder she keeps her ears hidden. With shaking fingers of his own, Ichigo traces the scar tenderly, committing it to memory and wondering how such a scar came to be, but refusing all the scenarios that come to mind as well.

Perhaps self-conscious now, Rukia tilts her head back to look at Ichigo, hiding her damaged ear from his gaze.

'How?'

'Why?'

He mouths. He doesn't realize he's crying until she thumbs his tears away with a broken smile that speaks for it all.

'It happened a long time ago.'

'It's fine.'

'Don't worry about it, you fool.'

The fact that she hasn't shed a single tear, Ichigo knows she's not fine and crushes her in his arms, hiding his face in her neck and drawing her closer than ever with each growing second.

'I wish you could tell me...' Ichigo confesses, thinking back to their conversation earlier about how he wants her to be honest with her feelings, but aware that this must be a past she can’t open up about yet. So, he tightens his hold on her even more as if that alone would be enough to squeeze the truth out of her.

Surprised, Rukia huffs in exasperation but not before returning the embrace, pale fingers dancing across his neck, shoulders, and back in a comforting soothe.

For what seems like ages, the two of them remain entangled even after their emotions have calmed. It's as if neither of them knows what to do to break the awkward intimacy they've ended up in. When Ichigo's restless hands accidentally stroke Rukia's sides though, he sees their escape.

Unprepared for the assault, Rukia gasps at the sudden relentless tickling. Embarrassed, she tries to stifle her squeals and wheezing while trying to protect herself from the onslaught that is Ichigo's large hands creeping up her sides like spiders.

The tickling match has separated them from their awkward sprawl. In the quiet room of his apartment, Ichigo can't help but marvel at the sounds coming from Rukia, like an echo that won't stop reverberating in his head. Ichigo decides it's the most beautiful thing he's ever heard.

#for clumsychappy #silence #drabbles #trash writing #I feel like absolute shit rn but I have the time to post this shit?#I suck #this is shortly after the first post #they makeup?#were they even fighting?#idk my own story #yep I sick #and suck #ichiruki

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voiceofreader · 5 years

Note

Do bakugou fluff alphabet pleasseeee

Y’all know what sucks? I format this all nice and organized and stuff but in google docs. And you know what Tumblr does? Fucks it all up.

Anyways. I love Katsuki with all my heart and I love fluffy Katsuki so much

Katsuki Bakugou Fluff A-Z

A ctivities - What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

Katsuki will love to exercise or train with you.

Going on runs together, and it turning into a race

Sparing together, although it never gets too serious and always ends with a playful wrestle or makeout session

Usually working out with Katsuki turns into a competition or sex or just making out.

Katsuki likes lounging around with you while cuddling.

Video games

Watching t.v. or movies

Doing homework

Katsuki just wants to cuddle with you (Alone that is)

B eauty - What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

Katsuki loves your determination and passion. When he sees you get worked up about something that you’re completely passionate about, he smiles and then is reminded why he fell for you.

Katsuki needs an s/o who has a personality that flows with his. You two are a balance. So when you can calm down his temper, or help him work his issues out, he just admires you so much.

C omfort - How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?

When Katsuki falls in love with someone, he needs to be the best boyfriend in the world, which means he will do his best to understand your body language, speech patterns, and any type of verbal/non-verbal signs you have indicating how you feel. When he does this, he tries to keep you from getting to the point of a panic attack or any depression or episodes of any kind. He is going to take notice of your early signs, and he will do what he can to help before it gets worse.

Although, he isn’t going to completely shield you from stress or triggers because he isn’t going to baby you your entire relationship. He wants you to be able to help yourself in certain situations.

When things do get out of hand or out of your control, Katsuki will be there for you as much as he can. If you are having an anxiety attack or issue, he’s going to help you get out of the situation, and calm you down. Although, when he gets worried, he gets angry and loud, which he will try to control, but this is Katsuki we’re talking about.

He’s not going to be yelling at you, he’s going to be yelling at the thing that is stressing you out or isn’t helping. Be it, people, homework, school, work. He’s going to curse it out.

Katsuki wants you to vent to him or ask for help. He’ll get pissed at you if you internalize your problems.

Katsuki will take note of what calms you down or distracts you and then use that to help you out. Cuddles, food/treats, shows/movies, dates, you name it, Katsuki is on it.

D reams - How do they picture their future with their s/o?

If you’re going down the hero route, Katsuki imagines you two as a power couple of the hero world. Taking down bad guys together, patching each other up, being the top dogs of the heroes.

Katsuki also wants to be able to take care of you financially. While you can work for yourself, he kinda wants a house spouse where he can just spend all his money on and spoil.

He doesn’t want to ever have to depend on you for money or resources because he’ll feel ashamed as husband/partner.

He wants to see you succeed, while you also support his dreams.

E qual - Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

Katsuki is a control freak.

He’s going to protect you from potential threats

People who flirt with you

Villains

Mainly guys who flirt with you

Katsuki is very protective and possessive.

Yes, you’re your own person and you have your freedom to do what you want. But Katsuki is your boyfriend and he is going to do what he can to keep you his.

This makes Katuski sound like a yandere, but he isn’t. He just wants to do all the work and make you happy.

Katsuki wants to know where you are and who you’re with to make sure you’re safe. You’ll catch hell if you don’t answer your phone.

Although, when it comes to your relationship, you both have equal power. He respects your decisions and trusts you to not to be stupid

F ight - Would they be easy to forgive their s/o? How are they fighting?

Katsuki is stubborn. If he’s going to forgive you, he’s usually going to do it nonverbally and hope you get the message.

It’ll take a lot to make him not forgive you.

If he trusts you wholeheartedly, then he’ll know when you’re being genuine and will forgive you.

But if he’s in the wrong, it’ll take him some time to admit it and say he’s sorry.

Although, Katsuki is extremely stubborn and gets agitated quick and loves to argue, so fights happen a lot.

They’re usually not serious and don’t get severe.

But in those arguments where you’re both yelling and saying some hurtful things, he’s not going to talk to you for awhile.

These fights never get physical. Katsuki knows when he gets angry enough to start exploding, he needs to take things down a notch.

He doesn’t want things to get bad enough where he needs to hit or blow something up.

Katsuki is very petty. When you two are fighting and there hasn’t been a resolve yet, he’s going to do what he can to piss you off in the little ways possible.

Though, if you start crying, he’ll most likely surrender and apologize/forgive you.

G ratitude - How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?

It depends.

Katsuki will either know right away, or it’ll take him some time to realize how lucky he is to have you.

He’ll most likely become aware of it when he sees a something trying to come between you two.

Someone hitting on you

Or Katsuki gets jealous of someone getting your attention

Or you get in some bad trouble or are in danger

Or if you two get in a bad enough fight where the threat of a breakup comes up.

H onesty - Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?

Katsuki will eventually learn to share his feelings with you.

His superiority complex will get in the way of his ability to be vulnerable around you.

Katsuki won’t let out his feelings or secrets willingly or easily. You will have to coax him into venting or confessing something.

Although if you start to pester him about it, he’ll shut down.

Katsuki is one of those people who if you asking them how their day was, they’ll respond with a grunt.

And that grunt can mean literally anything.

Katsuki will have to be really comfortable around you to really let you in on the heavy things.

Or see him cry.

As long as you don’t ever judge him, mock him, or get angry with him and you’re patient, caring, and understanding, Katsuki will eventually come around and share everything with you.

I nspiration - Did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helped them overcome personal problems?

You will help Katsuki learn how to depend on someone emotionally or to be vulnerable around them.

You’ll really help him learn to trust more.

Because of you, he’ll be more patient and learn to think a few seconds before punching something.

You’re not going to change him enough where it’s drastic or noticeable.

Katsuki will help you gain confidence, determination and the ability to fight for yourself.

He wants to protect you and so that means he’s going to help you learn to fight or defend yourself.

He’s going to give you the ability to not take anyone’s shit.

He might accidentally create a monster

J ealousy - Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

Katsuki trusts you. He does.

He just doesn’t trust the entire male population around you.

He will mark his territory.

He’s going to leave marks on you in noticeable places.

Either it be his clothes, or jewelry, or hickeys.

He’s going to let everyone know you belong to someone already.

In public he’s going to keep you in his reach.

Constant hand holding

Arms around you

Or you’re going to be close enough where in a moment’s notice, he can touch you.

Katsuki isn’t above pda to make a statement.

If he’s cocky enough he’ll make out with you in public

Katsuki will become very clingy when he’s jealous.

When you’re alone he’ll cuddle you closer, kiss you more passionately, or might even express his love for you verbally.

Also he’ll make it known he’s jealous without having to say it.

He’ll trash talk someone who he is feels is getting to close to you.

If someone makes you laugh or smile, or gets too much of your attention, Katsuki will find the smallest things to complain about them.

You know when he’s jealous when he hates someone more than usual in particular.

He’ll pick a fight with someone if needed.

Katsuki will never admit he’s jealous. EVER.

K iss - Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

Katsuki has the ability to learn and adapt quickly

So he will be a good kisser when he gets in enough experience

But, he doesn’t like to show his inexperience.

If you were his first kiss, he’s going to rely on you to take things to the next level because if he doesn’t know something, he’s very wary in case he messes up.

All in all, Katsuki’s kisses are very intense.

He isn’t one to express his feelings verbally, so he’s going to show you with how he touches you.

So when he kisses you, he’s trying to put all his thoughts and emotions into his kiss.

L ove Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

Katsuki is stubborn and would contemplate death before expressing vulnerable/weak feelings.

So things could go in three ways here if he confesses first.

1. He’s going to do it accidently.

He’s going to being shouting at you and not think about what he’s saying and next thing you know, he’s telling you he has a crush on you.

2. He gets so invested in you, he’ll finally buck up and tell you he likes you.

But, he’s going to be very curt with him.

“I fucking like you. Now either be with me or leave this school/town. There is no other option.”

Or he demands you be his and then vehemently deny having feelings for you.

“We’re going out this saturday but it doesn’t mean anything so if you say a fucking word, I’m going to kick your ass!”

And then he’ll kinda take some time afterwards to tell you that he, in fact, liked you this whole two months you two have been going out.

If you take the first step, he’ll kinda say he likes you back.

Katsuki- “I don’t like you, but I accept your feelings. Date me.”

y/n- “But you just said you don’t like me.”

Katsuki- “I know what I said! But you and I are dating now. Get over it!”

M arriage - Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the marriage be like?

Katsuki doesn’t really care if he ever gets married. But if he falls in love with you and wants to be with you, then it’s a different story.

Katsuki may propose in some different ways

The bakusquad finds out that Katsuki wants to propose to you and then makes Katsuki make a huge scene and date to then ask you.

Katsuki might just be simple and get you a ring and just pop the question.

Or he’ll wait for you to ask about marriage and then he’ll just agree to get married.

N icknames - What do they call their s/o?

It’ll take Katsuki awhile to start calling you any terms of endearment. (You may have to ask him to do it)

Baby/babe

Some shortening of your name

If you have any pet names for him, he might end up calling you the same thing

He thinks they’re stupid but he knows you love it.

O n Cloud Nine - What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?

Katsuki is far calmer when he’s in love. He might even laugh or smile with the Bakusquad and he might even do it at something that isn’t dark or about violence.

He’s really happy around you when he realizes he loves you, or you love him. He’s more affectionate.

Only Kirishima can see a difference in Katsuki

Also because Kirishima is constantly asking for updates on the relationship.

He likes to gush about how cute you guys are with the rest of the squad.

P DA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

Katsuki doesn’t brag or talk about the relationship to others because he thinks it’s none of their damn business if you two are dating or not.

Although, he’ll flaunt it when he’s showing dominance around other guys.

Katsuki isn’t a big fan of pda. Though, as he gets older, or he gets used to the teasing from his friends, he gets a bit lenient

He’ll allow hello and goodbye kisses.

Also celebration kisses

You’ll usually have to initiate it them.

Q uirk - Some random ability they have that’s beneficial in a relationship.

Katsuki is very aware of his surrounding, which includes you. So you know, he’ll always be focused on you

He’s also very intuitive.

R omance - How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative?

Katsuki can be very romantic, he just thinks all that “girly shit” is stupid and pointless.

He likes to have at home dinner dates, because he can cook and he likes to show off.

Katsuki has a lot of romantic knowledge, he won’t reveal how he knows, but he knows important dates, he knows what flowers to get you, what presents to buy you, and what colors you like.

Katsuki is very practical though. He’s not going to make a huge deal or make a big fuss about these things.

S upport - Are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? Do they believe in them?

Katsuki is very realistic.

He’ll support you in what you want to do as long as it’s reasonably attainable.

If what you want is very outlandish or an extremely big thing, he’ll tell you straight up what he thinks.

If you can really do what you dream to do, he’ll be your biggest fan

T hrill - Do they need to try out new things to spice out your relationship? Or do they prefer a certain routine?

Katsuki likes routine.

He knows what he likes and he doesn’t want to change it.

He loves you for you. If something is wrong, he’ll do what he can to help fix it.

U nderstanding - How good do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?

Katsuki knows you better than you know you.

He’s a mother-type friend/boyfriend.

He knows what you like, what you don’t. He knows what upsets you, or makes you happy. And he’s smart, so he knows how to either make or break you.

V alue - How important is the relationship to them? What is it’s worth in comparison to other things in their life?

You’re one of the most important things to do.

He trusts you more than he trusts his own mother.

If you made him choose between you or being a hero, the answer is like a coin toss, but either choice will give him guilt for the rest of his life.

There is no one who knows him better than you and he wants to keep it that way.

W ild Card - A random Fluff Headcanon.

Katsuki’s first pay being a hero, he spends it all on you.

You supported him the whole way and have always been his biggest fan.

This is his way of thanking you for being there for him and believing in him.

X OXO - Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?

Katsuki is very grouchy but clingy teddy bear. Behind closed doors, he’s latched on to you.

He kisses you all over randomly. Whatever he can reach, he’ll just lean over and kiss you. Forehead, hands, shoulders, face, lips.

Y earning - How will they cope when they’re missing their partner?

Katsuki will lash out at everyone around him.

He needs you and he doesn’t know how to handle it calmly.

Constant texting and calling is what helps him get through it.

If he has a snapchat, he’ll screenshot your selfies and look at them later when he really misses you.

Z eal - Are they willing to go to great lengths for the relationship? If so, what kind of?

Katsuki trusts you to his heart.

His only weakness is weakness itself.

And he shows you all of that

If you’re gone, he loses his rock and he doesn’t want to have to retrust someone else when you were the best.

Katsuki already spent so much time opening himself up to you.

Once he finally fully trusts his heart to you, you cannot hurt him.

He will fall apart.

It will take the next person 10 times longer to gain his trust if he can ever do that.

He’ll throw away his hero reputation for you.

Just don’t hurt him.

#voiceofreader is actually doing a request #voiceofreader #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou #katsuki bakugou x reader #bnha x reader #fluff

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lottes-ocs · 5 years

Text

one chapter (first chapter maybe? def towards the beginning though) of my story. i turned it in for a workshop in class (capped at 12 pages double spaced). a note from my workshop document:

“Since this is going to be a longer work, I will likely expand upon Adam’s personal and inner life towards the beginning, so that the breakdown and the subsequent conversation with Ezra don’t feel as sudden. I will definitely add more documents like the emails, maybe therapist’s notes or text messages, and I might play around with POV in some later chapters, however, my plan is for Adam to be the primary narrator throughout.”

also lmk if i get anything egregiously wrong. i do have ptsd myself, but i also consulted 2 of my schizophrenic friends to make sure i didn’t include any details that would conflict with that and also to get details about antipsychotics correct

tw for suicide mentions, mental illness, unreality, some graphic imagery.

[January 21st, 2019 // 9:00 AM] Since I got discharged from the hospital last month, I’ve been grateful to live alone. Granted, it makes the paranoia worse, but I’m the only one who needs to know how often I’ve tried to talk to shadows or woken up yelling at the void. And I’m the only one who needs to know that I, a 30-year-old man, have been sleeping with a nightlight. But look, when my room is completely dark, mirages of my father and Dr. Wronski appear in the corner with their faces peeled off like in an autopsy and they won’t stop apologizing. I tell them I forgive them and they double down, I offer them solace and they weep with guilt, I articulate my own guilt and they articulate what it feels like to die. Only the nightlight makes them go away. Does that all sound stupid? Sure it does, but it feels a lot less stupid when I just need some sleep after another day trying to balance crushing grief with debilitating mental illness with my normal-person job, teaching abnormal psychology. Classes have been back in session since last week, so for a week, I’ve felt like a fish teaching marine biology. Or something out of Mariana’s trench. Ezra walks into my office, looking just a little too put-together for the workday (as usual), perfectly-tailored pants, perfectly ironed shirt, and perfectly styled curls, and snaps me out of my self-pitying daze by setting down a large stack of papers on his desk next to mine. “The anxiety essays,” he says with an imperious sigh. “Was I this dumb in undergrad?” “Probably not,” I say. “You were a little older than them.” “And I actually had anxiety.” He’s made a point of bringing up his own issues since I got back. I think he’s doing it so I don’t feel embarrassed or isolated, but he does love to talk about himself regardless, and besides, the support of one grad student doesn’t outweigh the nastiness of some of the higher-ups. “Do you have any new bits, Ezra?” I try to change the subject to his comedy (he does standup on the side, and I hear he’s not bad). “Eh, nothing good. You look tired.” He brushes me off with forced nonchalance. “I’ve had plenty of work to catch up on.” There’s actually no reason that he should know why I was gone, it’s my business, but he definitely does. Everyone does. I work in the psych department, so the people here know what it means when someone’s witnessed the death of their mentor and is subsequently out for a month with no further explanation than “illness.” “Have you, uh…” he clicks his tongue in thought. “Did you drink coffee this morning?” I nod with an exasperated smile. “Well, y’know, the Keurig’s in the lounge if you need it. And I’m in 522 most of today if you need help. Catching up on work, or whatever.” He drums casually on the doorframe, shoots me finger-guns, and heads down the hall. I like Ezra. He’s my TA now, but we were both in grad school working towards our doctorates together, up until last spring, when I received mine. We’re the same age, and he’s definitely smarter than me (as he is most people), he just started college late. I think it’s very sweet of him not to be a condescending dick to me (I seem to be a popular target for condescending dicks lately) especially because Ezra can muster up a dangerous amount of condescending dickishness when he feels the need. However, I process absolutely none of what he said. I was listening, I was trying to listen anyway, but my head’s not working right, not right now. I really didn’t get enough sleep. It’s a vicious cycle. The hallucinations and intrusive thoughts keep me up, the lack of sleep worsens the severity of the hallucinations and intrusive thoughts. In fact, since I arrived at work forty-five minutes ago, I have kept a mental tally: Sudden and overwhelming urge to stab myself: 3 instances. Sudden and overwhelming urge to stab Dr. Carlisle for looking at me weird: 2 instances (fuck off, it’s not like I’m going to act on it). Sudden and overwhelming urge to break down crying: 45 instances. Rats underneath my desk: Yeah, I don’t know, I called maintenance and they told me they’re fake, so I guess they’re fake, even though I can see them. Hanging woman in the back corner of my office: Don’t mind her, she’ll be gone within the hour. I’ll be sorry to see her go, though. A sense of unreality is creeping in. I try to keep Dr. Beauchamp’s voice in my head, “if there shouldn’t be any real dead people in the room, there are almost definitely no real dead people in the room.” Well, there was that one time, you asshole. No, fuck it, there are almost definitely no real dead people in the room. I reach into my briefcase, desperate for the pill bottle, because I know my thoughts are going to turn into alphabet soup if I don’t do something soon. I split a Clozaril tablet in half and swallow it hastily. I am not supposed to split it in half, and I am not supposed to take more than one dose in a span of 24 hours, and I have a Ph.D. in psychology, obviously I know I’m lowering the efficacy in the long term and increasing my risk of side effects. But at this point, let me die of agranulocytosis if that’s what I’ve got coming. I’ll be out of a job and wasting eleven years of higher education if this shit doesn’t stop. Maybe that isn’t true. It feels true. Maybe it isn’t.

[January 21st, 2019 // 1:30 PM] FROM: Dr. Raymond Carlisle TO: Dr. Adam Collins SUBJECT: Checking in.

Dr. Collins, I sincerely hope all is well. I received word that you cancelled a lecture today. I need hardly tell you that you just had a month off for Winter Break, and two weeks before that for the beginning of your hospitalization. I hardly think an even further extended reprieve from your work is fair, and if you genuinely do, that’s a conversation we need to have. To be frank, Dr. Herrmann and I feel it is irresponsible to allow someone in your condition to continue to work, in the field of psychology no less. Though I do not at all doubt the competence of our colleagues at the medical center, nor your mental facilities, I feel compelled to let you know that if your psychological state continues to cause issues with your work the department might require you to take a leave of absence. While I hope your treatment plan begins to work to its full effect soon, your own safety and the integrity of this department are top priority.

Best wishes, truly,

Dr. Raymond Carlisle Head Professor, Psychology (555) 555-5555

My hands tremble with anger (and hopefully not tardive dyskinesia) as I type my reply.

FROM: Dr. Adam Collins TO: Dr. Raymond Carlisle SUBJECT: Re: Checking In

Dr. Carlisle, all is as well as it possibly can be needs to be. I don’t respect you as a colleague and I believe your total comfort in your new position, which I need hardly remind you is Dr. Wronski’s old position, is quite frankly borderline disrespectful. If it’s irresponsible for someone in “my condition” to continue to work then why do you give a shit if I cancel my lectures? Leave me the fuck alone or I’ll mention you by name in my suicide note. At the moment, it is difficult for me walk by Dr. Wronski’s old office, which I have to do to get to 525 (where that lecture is held). Could I request a change of I was having a panic attack you absolute dick how are YOU allowed to continue to work in the field of psychology when you have NO compassion My new medication has occasionally been making me sick. That issue should be resolved either way after I meet with my psychiatrist next week.

Thank you for your concern, Dr. Adam Collins Department of Psychology

[January 22nd, 2019 // 10:30 AM] I think back to our last faculty meeting, at least my last faculty meeting, in November. It does feel like a while ago, and it’s hard to fathom that Dr. Wronski was still here then. It gets easier to fathom when Dr. Carlisle comes in and takes his seat at the head of the conference table, simply because of how wrong that is. I picture her there instead, how things are supposed to be, how it should have been. I think about how someone should have helped her when they still could have. I really picture her there instead for a moment, her image replacing Carlisle’s. I blink once and she’s gone, and he’s back. As he starts talking, though, I feel a tap on my shoulder and see her behind me for a split second, ephemeral and transparent like the dots in a grid illusion, then she walks away and disappears. My whole body is left feeling cold, sharp, and jolted, as if I fell on a blade without expecting to. I’m filled with dread as I realize Carlisle’s words are simultaneously turning to nonsense and growing louder in my ears, and a high, harsh noise like microphone feedback intertwines itself with his voice. Dr. Wronski reappears in his place again, but she is lifeless this time, blood pooling from her head like it was when I found her, circling her hair in a grim halo. Her eyes are clouded with even more film, her mouth is agape, and I can feel my breathing grow rapid. I squeeze my eyes shut. I know I am in the middle of a meeting; I will not fall apart like this in the middle of a meeting, not when my “mental facilities” are already being called into question. I pinch myself, internally repeating “there are no real dead people here, there are no real dead people here, there are no real dead people here—” “Dr. Collins, are you with us?” Dr. Hermann’s voice pierces through my mantra, entirely unfriendly, entirely accusatory, despite the faux-sweetness she is trying to summon. “Yes.” My voice sounds thin and weak, and blood rushes to my face. I shut my eyes again, since I feel tears prickling at the corners of them. Not fucking here, Jesus Christ, not fucking here, I think to myself. Then I think again about my last meeting, the old hierarchy, the time when I fell asleep at one of these in October after a particularly long night and Dr. Wronski just pulled me aside afterwards and asked if I was okay, and if there was anything she could do. And now the image of her corpse won’t leave my head. It overwhelms me. I don’t see her in the room anymore, but I might as well be back in her office when I first found her body, the first time in my life I had ever truly hoped that I was only seeing a figment of my imagination. The gun in her hand— I try to think of anything else. Anything to keep it at bay. I click my pen repeatedly (Carlisle asks me to stop), I scratch at my wrists and pull at my skin, anything to shift my focus to anything else. Nothing is working. The lump in my throat grows. My heartbeat gets faster, my chest starts to hurt, and suddenly I can smell the blood and rot that permeated the room that night, and I am helpless to stop it— Someone grabs me. I look up to see every eye in the room on me. I can’t breathe, I can’t speak, and I realize I’m in the middle of this meeting, crying and having a full-on panic attack, surrounded by people who already think I’m a headcase. I am sobbing and shaking and unable to steady my breathing and to them it seems completely unprompted at best, and at worst, it seems like it’s because Hermann and Carlisle snapped at me. And even in the midst of my abject humiliation, the image of Dr. Wronski lying in a pool of her own blood is still in my head, still absolutely fucking killing me, and I couldn’t calm down if I tried. I get up and walk out. That’s what fucking happens when I’m forced to try to power through episodes. I could care less what Carlisle does to me right now, I will not stay in there and continue to look like an emotionally unstable baby in front of my colleagues. I go to finish up my breakdown in the privacy of my office, catching a glimpse of myself in a window on the way and hating myself even more at the sight of my own disheveled hair and bright red, tear-streaked face. I sit down and hide underneath my desk, pop another half-a-Clozaril tablet that I try not to choke back up (I’m still hyperventilating so hard I could vomit), and bury my face in my arms. “Adam?” I look up. “Ezra.” I am barely composed, still hyperventilating, swiping at my eyes furiously and futilely. I look away, and I hope maybe he’ll think I’m just sick. I expect him to walk away, pretend that he never saw me like this and just silently let it color his perception of me. But he comes and sits down next to me underneath the desk. I don’t know what to say. “Do you want me to go?” he asks, after a moment. “You don’t have to.” I don’t want to admit it, but I don’t really want him to. Nobody else is this understanding with me anymore. I keep trying to collect myself, barely noticing at first when he puts his hand on my shoulder. “Do you need anything?” I shake my head, still not making eye contact. Theoretically, I’m getting the help I need, and maybe I do need the support of a friend right now too, but I don’t want to trouble him. Besides, I must look pathetic, cowering under a table and weeping, almost comically vulnerable. Hm. “Ezra,” I turn to him, finally, after a few more minutes of whimpering. I know my eyes look crazy, bloodshot to hell. “Can you take me to a mic?” “A mic?” “Yes. A standup mic. I want to see what it’s like.” “Really?” he smirks. “Yes, why not?” I can’t think of the last time I laughed, at least not genuinely. I can’t think of the last time I let myself. My self-loathing has become entirely unfunny, my psyche and my job both absolute nightmares, not to mention the actual nightmares—I need something light. Something just a little bit light. “You would… enjoy that?” “Yeah.” It makes me sad that he seems surprised, though I can’t blame him. I’ve been awfully serious, not even just for the past week or month, but probably since my dad died last spring. He reads my disappointment. “Sorry, Adam, I just… do you like comedy?” “I don’t know. My therapist laughs at my jokes sometimes.” He smiles at that, and I smile too, through dissipating tears. “Well, if you really want to, yeah. The next one is Thursday night.” I nod and take a deep breath. I realize Ezra hasn’t taken his hand off my shoulder, and he is absent-mindedly rubbing circles into my back. Maybe it’s stupid, but I stay as still as I can. I don’t want him to notice that he’s doing it and stop. “Is everyone there funny?” I ask, just to keep his focus. It’s a dumb question. I rephrase myself, “How funny is everyone?” He exhales a chuckle. “Honestly? About thirty people go up every night, sometimes more. They’re mostly shit. Don’t worry, though, there’s plenty to laugh at with the shitty ones.” He proceeds to tell me about the guys who show up high every time and just get up on stage and talk about nonsense (or weed itself) for 5 minutes, the wannabe Dangerfields and Seinfelds and Mulaneys who “never actually managed to glean what joke structure is” (though to be fair, It’s not like I have either), even the bigoted old men still trying with unflinching determination to resurrect “get back in the kitchen” jokes. I am losing myself in his stories, feeling at least marginally more relaxed, when Carlisle appears in my doorway. Ezra takes his hand off my back. Carlisle glances at us with confusion and disgust. “Dr. Collins, if you would please… get up and come see me in my office.” “We’re actually grading papers right now,” Ezra shoots back, in a tone of voice that says “yes, I think you’re stupid.” “Take a break, please,” Carlisle replies, glaring and exiting. I look hesitantly at Ezra, before getting up to follow him. “I do want to come,” I say. “To a mic.” “We’ll talk more later. I should still be here after you’re done facing the wrath of god.” I know I’m about to get chewed out to an extreme degree. Still, I can’t help but grin back at him.

#psychology story

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