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melisa-may-taylor72 · 4 years

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Accolades such as “greatest single long-playing achievement since Sgt. Pepper” and “the most important record album ever made” fall over Queen’s latest album as easily as butter melting on a hot potato—but few realize what a hot potato the album actually was in its pre-release days. It took a bevy of high-powered attorneys, some low-life finagling, and more than the usual amount of wheelerdealing just to get the album out without its being hacked to death by defamation-of-character suits.

Guitarist Brian May explains: “I’m in real difficulty here because I’ve been threatened with libel because our old management had a good go at stopping the album coming out. They thought “Death on Two Legs’’ was about them. They wanted us to take the track off and we nearly had to, and in fact they got a load of money out of our publishing company because it supposedly was libelous, but it’s never been proven. It’s all very stupid—they wanted to sue Freddie, the band, the publishing company, and the record company.”

All very dramatic stuff, but a band like Queen survives not on operatic finesse alone, but on gut-level melo- dramatics in the business department as well. When you produce your records, write the songs, play all the instruments, and do everything yourself, chances are you’re going to have to pay some legal dues, too. But ah! the rewards—such as the single, “Bohemian Rhapsody,” hanging into the #1 spot in the British charts for seven weeks in a row!

“We’re a bit more in the public eye now, we’re starting to get recognized a lot more,” says Brian May. “We’re carrying on working just as we did before, but obviously we’re very pleased with how the record’s doing. It’s sold more than a million copies in England— can’t believe it.” But it’s true: Queen’s stature in England has risen from that of The #1 teenage hard rock band to that of the-group- that-made-the-single-that-every-house- wife-knows-by-heart”.

What propelled Queen in that direction is their Night at the Opera album, a slight departure from what Queen fans know to be the Queen sound. The hard rock screams have temporarily subsided, replaced by experimentation with different voicings of instruments and production tricks. Those who found Queen’s approach overdecibelled can relax to the quiet “ ‘39” or “Good Company” and tap their feet to “Lazing on a Sunday Afternoon” without fear of being gui- tarred to death. “It’s just what came out,” says Brian. “They’re offshoots of our main direction. There’s plenty of time for the rock.”

“The album wasn’t really supposed to go in the direction that it did, it was just the songs we had. While we were making it we were thinking, ‘Yeah, it is getting a bit light,’ but rather than fight against it we decided to do it properly and then think again afterwards. So instead of trying to heavy up the lighter things, we pressed on. We had a few things we didn’t use, but we’re getting more demanding of ourselves. There are a few heavy things kicking around, but we may use them on the next record.”

The two strongest forces in Queen have always been Brian and Freddie. With A Night at the Opera, where experimentation and branching out in new directions are the most obvious characteristics, the personalities of the band are often obscured by the newly emerging elements. “Sometimes I feel that Freddie and I are going in different directions, but then he’ll come up with something and I’ll think, ‘My God—we do think alike.’ When I’m working on one of his things I can tune in very easily to what guitar part he wants, and vice-versa. In terms of what we’re trying to do in songs, we are moving in different directions, but I think that could be a good thing.”

QUEEN II: Critical response to the band is now almost unanimously favorable in both Great Britain and the United States, which is quite phenomenal when you stop and think of how anxious many critics were to pan them two years ago.“I’m not going to take it too seriously,” Brian says, “because I remember what the critics said about Queen II. It would seem that everybody is beginning to like us. … very much. I can take it at that level, but there’s no doubt in my mind that sometime in the future there’ll come a time when we get slagged for everything. Queen II is still my favorite of the Queen albums, certainly the most daring. Especially for the time. I think we’re still finding our feet now, and the way I feel about the new album is that we’re searching for new directions and most of them are sort of half-formed. We’ve got the Queen II feel in some places, and in others we’ve got the Sheer Heart Attack polish. I don’t think we’re quite sure where we’re going”.

“This album, at the very least, negates all the comparisons to Led Zeppelin that we’ve been living with for the past three years. I think Physical Graffiti is amazing, by the way. I saw Zeppelin at Earls Court, and I met Pagey afterward, for the first time. It was great, he was very nice and gentle. I respect him a tremendous amount for “Kashmir” and “The Light,” for being able to put his brain on record—- it wouldn’t matter if he couldn’t play a note.”

Economic criticism has been less favorable, however. A Night at the Opera was widely rumored to be “the most expensive album ever made” when it was released, a point which Queen’s management denies. Nevertheless, Queen has been taken to task by quite a few English journalists for spending so much money estimated at £30-40,000—making one record. Brian has a retort: “We wouldn’t have spent so much money if the studios weren’t so bloody expensive!

The album was recorded in seven of them, sometimes three at once.” We weren’t mucking about for any of it, it was four months of solid work. It came down to having the equipment available for four months, and we didn’t begrudge the amount of time spent in the studios, but it comes to a fair amount of money. There’s a lot of things that seem light, like “Good Company,” which actually took a great deal of time and care. All those trumpets and clarinets being fashioned from guitar sounds—I took it quite seriously because I wanted to do it right, even though it was a lighthearted thing. We worked too hard for our own health, we got a bit down and depressed.”

While Queen was laying about England between record and tour, a few of them got going on some independent projects. Brian and Roger produced an R&B group’s single, but there were some record company hassles and it may be some time before the record gets released. And on the eve of the American tour, Freddie Mercury went into the studios with a singer/songwriter managed by the Rocket Organization (which manages Queen as well) to try his hand at production. “Eddie Howells is the guy’s name, and he’s managed by David Mead, and they’re doing a single for Warners. I’m playing some guitar on it.” Brian restrained himself from going out on any limbs before the American tour in order to get himself physically fit. His health had been a crucial problem on an earlier American tour, and he’s not particularly anxious to spend time in hospitals when he could be onstage instead. “I actually get more tired offtour than ontour,”he admits. But I am in good health.”

HAIRY LEGS: Once the English leg of the tour did get started, word started to flow very quickly back to the States about Queen’s dramatic stage show—a stage show to end all stage shows, with Mercury donning short-shorts to add a bit of the hairy leg to Queen’s otherwise pristeen presentation. “The show is the same, but different,” Brian says confusedly. “We’ve merely developed what we did before with some new material from the new album. It’s a bit of reshuffling. Plus we do “Doing All- right” from the first album, which we’ve never done onstage before. And “Seven Seas of Rhye,” which we’d do in England but never in America before. It’s quite a lot different, actually.”

American audiences got their first chance to sample the new presentation on January 27 in Waterbury, Conn., when the first concert of Queen’s scheduled 32-date, 21-city American tour got underway in the Palace Theatre. After arriving in the States at Kennedy International on January 20 and spending a couple of days in New York for interviews, Queen began five days of rehearsals at the Palace to ready their show for American fans across the country.

After Waterbury they dove headfirst into the intensive six-week tour, which featured extended runs in New York, Philadelphia, and Los Angeles before its scheduled end March 12 at the San Diego Sports Arena.

Despite the novel direction of the new album, onstage Queen proved to be the same rocking outfit they’ve always been, letting loose with the same kind of guitar-bass-drums-piano barrage they’ve delivered in the past. “We don’t do “39” or “Lazing on aSunday Afternoon” in our show,“ Brian explains. He seems a bit defensive of Queen’s rock spirit, which is kept intact in the live set by “BohemianRhapsody,” “Sweet Lady,” “Prophet Song” and the deletion of the “experimental tunes” from A Night At the Opera.

By the by, those who missed Queenon earlier tours but want to see how they’ve changed now have the means. Queen bave joined the prestigious ranks of the Zeppelins, the Beatles, and the Rolling Stones whereby sorne illegal entrepreneur has issued a boot leg album of one of their American concerts. “I hate those things-they rarely give an accurate picture of the group,” Brian states unequivocally, and in this case he’s right. The Queen bootleg has transistor radio fidelity, and the only truly audible members of the band are Brian and Freddie. Yet the fact that a bootleg exists confirms the fact that Queen is now well on their way to the top.

CIRCUS MAGAZINE, APRIL 1975

@natromanxoff, @mephisto92, @moviestorian, @x5vale, @39-brian, @onegoldenglance, @crosmopolitan, @an-abyss-called-life, @his-majesty-king-mercury, @i-live-for-queen, @brian-39-may, @toomuchlove-willkillyou, @brimaymay, @sail-away-sweet-sister, @drummerqueenrmt, @old-fashioned-roger-boy-deactiv, @briianmaay, @l-over-bo-y, @inui-mycroft, @deacytits, @iminlovewithrogscar, @drowseoftaylor, @brianmayislongaway, @balticlover, @astrophysicist-guitar-god, @miez-lakatz, @brianmayoucease, @jesus-in-a-life-boat, @roger-taylors-car, @silapril, @sherrifanciesfriskyfreddie, @tenderbri, @brianmydear, @thosequeenboys, @millionairewaltz-carpediem, @painandpleasure86, @bribrifrenchfry, @xlucylennonx, @a-night-at-the-abbey-road, @inthedayswhenlandswerefew, @madformeddowstaylor, @queenrogertaylorfan, @let-roger-get-a-lunch, @queen-for-life, @rethought, @darlinginnuendo, @mymakeupmaybeflaking, @old-but-still-a-child, @let-roger-get-a-lunch, @warriorteam1924, @funnydressesweirdhairanddance, @painkiller80, @thefanhuman13, @yourtieddownmother, @hgmercury39, @brimi-stardust, @thefairyfellermercury, @retroromantics, @foxmonkey, @sophiaintheskywithdiamonds, @holybrianmaywritingbear, @lydiannode, @39-yellow-daffodils , @ure-gonna-loveme-when-u-seeme, @kaykaybeachgirl, @rhysjoejoshtomfarisblog @redspecialandclogsandcurls, @briansrainbowsocks, @delilahmay39, @ohmybribri, @bless-the-queen, @infunitehearbeat, @sketchiesscketches, @everythingaboutfreddie, @doitforthevine67, @recordsoftheseventies, @tenementfunsterwithpurpleshoes, @drummah-in-a-rocknroll-band, @beatlegirl1968, @maylorsqueen, @shearrehartatacc, @gralto, @alittlepeoplemagic, @rainbowsockbrian, @sailawaysweetbrimi

#Circus Magazine #Queen article

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ohwereusingourmadeupnames · 3 years

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Give In To Me

Pairing: Peter Parker/Tony Stark (Starker) Rating: Explicit (E) Notes: This is my post for the “new love” square for the @starkerfestivals January event. I listened to the song Give In To Me a stupid amount of times to get this one just right. Word Count: ~6.6K Warnings: There is some homophobic language/actions and a bit of violence in this one. It’s not the fluff fest most of my fics usually are, so approach with caution! Summary:

Tony always knew he was a little different - and growing up on a ranch in the middle of nowhere Wyoming didn't leave room for that type of uniqueness. College is supposed to be a godsend, and for a while - it is. Things start to spiral out of control when Tony's father dies and whiskey takes the wheel.

Twenty something years later, Tony is still struggling with the aftermath. It's not until the gorgeous cowboy Peter Parker walks into his life that Tony starts to feel like living again.

Or, the one where society sucks and Peter makes it all better.

Read on AO3 here.

In all 45 of his years, Tony never thought of himself as weak.

There were times when shit got hard and the walls felt like they were sinking in on him – even then, the feeling of weakness never even registered.

From the second that Peter Parker walked into his life – everything changed. The feeling of weakness came from the way the tan Stetson sat so temptingly on his head; the brim tucked down over his eyes that made searching out his gaze something of a mission. It came in the way his heart picked up when he saw the lean cowboy, his face and body still giving off the slightest hint of youth that Tony could only fondly remember in his later age.

Most importantly, the weakness came when it was just him and Peter – the two of them tackling the stalls or discussing the latest specs for the crop rotation they meticulously planned. In all his life, Tony didn’t once feel that earth-moving feeling of rightness like he did when in Peter’s orbit.

All of Peter’s finer attributes and deeply engrained intelligence compiled together could easily bring him to his knees – Tony fought with himself daily to simply stay standing under the strain of what Peter made him feel so easily. After almost fifty years of repressing all of his emotions, especially the hard ones like love and attraction, Tony found himself both fearful and excited by the immensity of his plentiful feelings for Peter Parker.

He wanted to burn from the fire of it all, while melting Peter down and taking him into the blazing madness together.

Of course, his thoughts were much braver than his actions and behavior.

It was never easy – coming to terms with his differences. From an early age, Tony could feel how other he was. Though he loved ranch work with all of his being, the thought of learning and getting so much more from the world settled in him before he really understood what it all meant. Where his daddy didn’t give a shit about his schooling, Tony strived to excel. Information and knowing things came pretty easy to him, and he reveled in it.

He studied so much, he figured the cows would start mooing all of the different facts and tidbits of information he always recited to them during his fence checks and daily feeds. There was always a craving for more that settled deep within him – the thing taking home in him in a way that held tight and wouldn’t come close to letting go.

Things got even more interesting when he figured one of the biggest differences between him and all his other buddies was the fact that he wanted to kiss them, and not the girls they were always whispering and gossiping about. He found out pretty early how off the wall those feelings were and desperately tried to stamp them down.

For a lot of his childhood, Tony did a lot of that – stamping things down. Whether it was his smarts or the warmth in his stomach he got when looking at certain boys, Tony did whatever he could to let those things fly under the radar. He figured the best way to stay hidden was to blend in with the normality of the crowd.

The one thing Tony wasn’t ever going to compromise on was his future, however – it was one thing to hide his brain and all the things he could do with it, but a whole other thing to waste it, just because someone didn’t like it. His daddy fought tooth and nail to get Tony to ditch the educated man dreams and stay exactly where he’d always been.

Taking over the ranch could wait – there were so many things to learn and tons of opportunities for Tony to do it.

When the acceptance letter for UT Austin came, Tony hid the envelope away and quietly went about the process of getting himself set up for attendance that next fall. Like most things in his life, Tony put his entire life together after high school by himself – making his own decisions and following the dreams that he never let anyone else know about.

Austin meant more acceptance – besides the amazing university, Texas’s capital was rumored to be amongst the more liberal parts of the state. For someone who held a whole piece of himself back in fear of what might happen, escaping to a place that wouldn’t condemn him for his preferences felt pretty sweet.

Against his parents’ wishes, Tony left for college immediately after graduation – his work ethic and know-how getting him a fellowship within the agricultural engineering department that got him to school as early as possible. Getting away meant everything after such a long time being cooped up in a small town with people who had narrow minds and an even smaller range of interests.

His introduction to all of the other things the world had to offer came hard and fast. His Levi jeans and cowboy boots were a hit amongst the people that never stepped foot outside of the big city – and the boys who liked other boys were not quiet about their appreciation. From nothing to everything all at once, Tony fell headfirst into the life he never knew existed.

And it was nice – for a long time, it was really (really) nice. Tony felt right under his skin for the first time ever and didn’t have to hide himself away – his brain or his lust for beautiful men that could take him apart and put him back together in a way that was much better than what existed before.

He flourished in the classroom, the lifetime of ranch knowledge edging others out in the application and understanding department. Tony used all of the pieces he accumulated over the years to absorb all of the information he could and quickly found himself with a double major in Business and Agricultural Engineering. Though he wasn’t actually planning to go back and take over the family ranch, knowing how to run one from all angles seemed like the right thing to do.

Austin felt like a dream – everything Tony ever wanted was right in front of his face just waiting for him to reach out and take it. And while he could, Tony clung tight to all of the things he never had before and probably never would again.

Things came crashing down when his dad died eight weeks before graduation. The night before he finally got ahold of his mom after noticing more than forty missed calls, Tony was out with his latest fling – Clint Barton, who could do things with his hands that Tony couldn’t get enough of. When he finally stumbled his way back to the dorm, Tony found his answering machine completely full – each one of his mother’s messages more desperate than the last.

Unable to just rush home, Tony settled his mom down and made a few calls to get himself a flight back to Wyoming as soon as he could. As much as he wanted to feel bad about the sudden death of his father, there wasn’t much in him that made Tony ache the way he probably should. His father never understood him – never even took the time to do so. There was sadness, but the idea of missing his very last midterm to mourn couldn’t be processed. Not when he worked so hard to get where he was.

He never planned to go back home – and rushing back just wasn’t in the plans, either; no matter the reason.

Of course, karma had a way of proving that not all decisions were the best. The very next night, while out with Clint and a few of their friends, Tony found himself in a sticky situation. Taking to the bottle the second he had everything in order, his blood was more whiskey than red blood cells by the time they hit one of their favorite bars – the word belligerent sat in the back of his head when he let himself think about just how much the world was tilting and his words were slurring.

While Austin was relatively liberal, there were still many people that came to the city that didn’t share the local attitude about the world. Most people Tony spent his time with were pretty accepting of his preferences and never shied away from him, especially when he brought his dates around. In a lot of ways, Tony felt stupidly lucky; the level of understanding his close friends were capable of surpassed all he received throughout the years of his childhood combined.

That wasn’t to say that the strangers on the street felt the same as his friends, however. Sober Tony understood that piece of information; he logically kept his personal and private business to himself when out in public. That Tony was long gone, replaced with the recklessly drunk version that didn’t keep his hands to himself and couldn’t care less about what other people thought of it.

When he pulled Clint into a kiss without a care in the world, Tony should’ve known he was asking for trouble. There was a beat of time when he pulled away with a smile where Tony felt like he was floating on air – he was just drunk enough to forget the world, just for that single moment. Then, the chocked-out word he dreaded his entire life rang in his ears. ‘Fag’ sunk into his skin, the heat of shame radiating down from his stomach until his legs felt molten with anger and fear. His fists clenched tightly by his side, the alcohol boosting his courage beyond anything reasonable.

“What the fuck did you just say?” Tony roared, his hand pressing flat against Clint’s chest, pressing him back and out of the way. He shifted his body until he was between Clint and the guys now closing in on them.

“I called you a fag. Out here in public, doing something like that – “ the guy was able to get out just enough to push Tony past a breaking point. He didn’t get to finish his thought – Tony’s fist connected with his jaw; then, all hell broke loose.

For what it was worth, Tony gave just as good as he got. After the initial punch, Tony threw himself into the first of the three guys that were gathered around. Searching for Clint’s eyes, Tony nodded his head towards the exit when he caught them. They shared a scared look for a second before the other man was gone, the sound of a fist hitting his cheek covering up the shuffle of Clint’s boots as he fled.

At least he was alone in the beating he took when a swift punch to the back took out a couple of ribs, the pain pulling all the fight from him in one swift breath. By the time his eyes were shutting with blissful unconsciousness, everything felt numb – his body, heart, and his already tarnished soul.

After almost twenty years, thinking back on the experience still took his breath away.

He regained consciousness in a hospital bed with his hands wrapped and one eye swollen completely shut. The thought of not being in jail was the only comfort he felt as every other injury made itself known. Fractured ribs, a dislocated jaw, and bruising everywhere. It hurt to breath and if he pressed too hard with his tongue, his front tooth felt like it might pop right out of his mouth.

Tony stayed hooked up to the machines just long enough to make sure there was no lasting damage, then checked himself out against everyone’s orders. Canceling his flight on account of not being able to handle the pressure of breathing, let alone at thirty thousand feet, Tony put his shit in a bag, packed up his truck, and hit the road. Fourteen hours stood between him and the distance needed to maybe mend his brokenness.

Instead of going back to Austin after putting his daddy in the ground, Tony took to his old room in the house he grew up in and dug into the ranch work as deeply as he could. He finished his degree with a couple trips back to the city to take big tests and put the whole experience behind him the second his diplomas came. All that education, all the time it took, and the effort he put forth – it all seemed a little flat after the huge crash back down to reality. The world wasn’t the big place he so desperately wanted it to be. The realization of that hit so close that he bottled everything inside, put his head down, and finally gave into wishes he’d been resisting for as long as he could remember.

In letting himself fall into the work, Tony found his enjoyment of being around the ranch again. His forethought in school put him in a good position to make some good moves and bring all the land back up to speed. In just a couple of years, Tony brought their profits up and made some decent headway into getting the soil ready and willing to spring up crops to at least sustain them throughout the seasons.

Little by little, Tony took to running the ranch the way his daddy always wanted him to. His mom let go of her work around the place one small chore at a time, her old age catching up to her after so many years of ceaseless work. In the last couple of years before she passed, Tony created the best memories, actually letting himself get to know the woman who raised him and allowing her to see him in return. When he came out, she simply looked at him with a knowing smile.

“I’ve always known, boy. As long as you’re happy, I’m happy.”

Those words echoed within him every time he thought of her after that. She succumbed to pneumonia and joined his daddy late in the spring of his thirtieth year. Now completely orphaned, without any family at all, Tony turned to building up the ranch – the place now one of the only ones in the world he could feel some semblance of home.

He started the change with an initial push to bring the ranch into the latest decade. He bought a new herd of cattle and got a few work horses that could maintain the load of the work about to come. Next, he increased the staff on the property. Where Howard got by with only one hired hand, Tony brought on a foreman and three other hands to help with the new livestock. There were several empty bunkhouses on their many acres of land, and with a little bit of fixing up, they made adequate workers’ quarters.

With the manpower and the ability to give up some of the physical labor for the brainier work, Tony watched the land flourish before him. The livestock brought in good profit year after year – the turnaround on the cattle almost enough to bring in new herds almost every year. When the need for a wider stock occurred, Tony wheeled and dealed until he bought out both of his neighbors, their land adding beautifully to the well working operation.

As the years past, Tony got more ingenious and found ways to keep everything organic, the cattle were grass fed, and the small round of crops they were able to sustain year after year grew chemical free. Despite rebelling against it for so damn long, Tony took to ranching like a natural – the land belonged to his family for generations; it was in his blood.

When the crop production started to pick up, Tony figured it was time to bring in a professional with the know-how and education needed to maintain the soil and produce bigger numbers during every yield.

Steve, after years of being Tony’s right hand man, brought up a young agriculture guru that was quickly making a name for himself in the farming business. Without blinking an eye, Tony took his name and number, making the needed calls to get the best in the business there as quickly as possible. In all his years of running things, Tony understood what it meant to tap into potential, and if Steve was right, they were getting someone more than qualified that could easily hit his stride under their care.

All thoughts of business rushed out the window when he first took in all the glory that was Peter Parker. The cowboy hat that sat low on his head made it hard to determine how old he actually was – the word young could be applied to many age groups now that Tony was getting up there in years himself. There was a seriousness to his eyes that made him seem a little older, yet the beauty of youth clung to him like it may never let go.

Then, their eyes met – the crackle in the stare shared between them obvious in the way that both men shifted; brown eyes were glued to him from that moment on. Tony automatically stuck his hand between them, a sudden eagerness in his blood that made his fingers itchy for contact. He wasn’t disappointed when the shock of eyes catching magnified when skin met skin. Peter’s hands were rough, callouses adorning them – they were workers hands, ones that knew what it was like to spend long hours sweating for the cause.

Though the touch was brief, Tony felt it on his skin for the rest of their brief meeting. Tony was enamored from the very beginning but kept his business pants on and listened with interest to Peter’s extensive background and experience with soil analysis, crop rotations, and the like. While he was an aggie where Tony was a longhorn, he figured he could forgive the cowboy for his follies of youth – if his credentials were to be believed, they were getting a real asset to their team.

It didn’t take much convincing on Tony’s end when all was said and done – Steve did a good job selling the place in his initial rundown and Peter was signing the employment contract before the meeting was even finished. Unable to stamp down his excitement, Tony let a rare smile flit across his lips when he looked up to see Peter watching him. There was a glint of happiness bubbling up, and for once, Tony wondered what it would be like to allow himself to enjoy it again.

Realistically, choice wasn’t in Tony’s hands – from the second he saw Peter working on the ranch that first day, his fate was sealed. It’d been so long since the last time Tony allowed himself to look, let alone feel, that he was having a hard time controlling himself. Whenever they were within distance of each other, he found his eyes roving over Peter, his brain desperately attempting to remember everything for later. He figured that Peter could feel the weight of his stare and was later assured of that when he finally brought his eyes back up to Peter’s face after a lengthy perusal to find a shit eating grin on his lips.

They didn’t talk about it – not at first. Tony felt too much shame in the simple act of looking, the last thing he needed to do was rush the process and fuck them both over. Instead, they took to sharing looks and small quips when they were lucky enough to bump into each other. Tony’s love had always been the livestock, so he stuck to the barn and stables the times he decided to get his hands dirty. There wasn’t a lot for Peter to do in that neck of the woods, but they ran into each other often enough, anyways.

One such evening, Tony was cathartically finishing up bedding a few of the horses when Peter walked into the tack room, his eyes roaming over the gear hanging on the wall. In their ever-increasing conversations, Tony came to find out that Peter spent most of his childhood on horseback and liked to be amongst the familiar animals. Leaning up against the door of the stall he’d been mucking, Tony whistled lightly, getting Peter’s attention.

“Want to actually saddle up and ride tonight?” Tony asked, his forearms leaning against the top of the stall. “I haven’t settled Midnight or Cocoa if you’re interested.”

Seeing the flash of hope in Peter’s eye had Tony standing up a little taller, his hand moving to push his cowboy hat up a little further on his head so he could see Peter better. His lips rebelled against him, the corners reaching just under his eyes in the most genuine smile to ever grace his face. He was sweaty and tired and knew that taking the horses out now would make for a couple hours of work later – but it was all worth it. Peter nodded his head excitedly, his long legs already carrying him over to the saddle on the wall he eyed on a nightly basis.

Saddled up and ready to go, Tony clicked his tongue and shifted the reins in his hand enough to get Midnight on the move. Peter followed him closely, their feet a couple inches apart from each other with every shift they made in the saddle.

The cool night breeze moved around them; the trails beautifully lit by the moon casting its glow all around. It was a gorgeous night for a ride and an even better opportunity to get to know the handsome cowboy a little better.

Pulling up on the reins, Tony settled Midnight into a light trot, Cocoa following along seamlessly. He felt comfortable enough to shift forward a little, his stare moving to Peter across from him. “How are you settling in? This is probably a big change from College Station where you’ve been the past few years.”

“I love it out here. I grew up in the middle of nowhere Kansas. My uncle had a few acres that he made last until he couldn’t anymore. Being out here reminds me of the slow days I used to spend out on the range with him. A&M was just a stop along the way. Out here, it’s where I’ve always wanted to be.”

Sucking in a breath, Tony felt the words hit him hard – the vast openness drew him home all of those years ago; there was just something about being able to look up and see nothing for miles. Instead of replying right away, he let the peace of the words and the environment around him settle; it felt good to just be out here, especially with Peter by his side.

“Seems like you’re in the right place, then. It’s real quiet out here and everything moves a little slower than the rest of the world.” He stopped for a second, shifting his fingers in the leather of his riding gloves. “I’m real glad you’re here, Pete. Glad that you don’t dislike the slow stuff.”

Peter didn’t say anything else for the rest of their ride, the silence between them light and easy – like Tony’s admission was the pin needed to break the little bubble of tension that always surrounded them. They made it up and back across the trail before it was too dark – and with an extra pair of hands, Tony got the stable ready for the night much quicker than he initially anticipated.

Without really thinking, Tony placed a hand on Peter’s shoulder, pulling until they were pressed side to side. The contact felt amazing yet forbidden – Peter’s heat against him a craving he kept at bay for so, so long. “Thanks for the help closing up. I would’ve been out here for hours on my own.”

Peter moved then, his own arm wrapping around Tony’s waist – no hesitation, no shrinking away from the intimate contact. A couple of seconds went by before Peter moved again, his body turning and free hand coming to rest softly against Tony’s cheek. “Anytime, cowboy. You can’t possibly know how good you look on a horse. Or how sexy you get when you’re sweaty from work.”

The last few words were whispered, the space between them dwindling down to nothing as Peter inched closer – his fingers were wrapped tightly in Tony’s pearl snap, the first few buttons completely loosened by the time their lips finally met.

For just a moment, Tony let himself fall into the kiss. His arm tightened around Peter’s shoulder, bringing him into his chest a little tighter. The other hand reached up to rid Peter of his hat, then did the same for himself. Without the brims in the way, Tony leaned even farther forward, their lips and tongue moving in a dance that felt old hat now that they were finally connecting like this. Peter felt like home from the moment they met, and this intimate connection felt even better.

But then he remembered the many years of isolation and all the shame – the bad memories of those times more than enough to pull him away from the amazing sensation, his lungs burning from lack of oxygen and searing fear of what-ifs and ignorant people. Unable to push it all down, Tony put a bit of distance between them, his eyes glued to the floor where his boots were brushing nervously against the dirty planks.

“Fuck, I’m sorry. I-I – “ Tony tried to babble out before deciding to ditch the niceties and make a quick escape out the door.

For two days, Tony avidly avoided the stables. Though it was his favorite place on the entire property, he wasn’t ready to face Peter head-on and knew the younger man would wait to find him there as long as it took. There was an unspoken connection that neither was willing to let go of, no matter how hard Tony fought against it. Between shared looks and hard-won tidbits about each other’s lives, something was created, the bond living and breathing, just like the two of them.

Deep down, Tony knew running away wouldn’t get him anywhere. His self-imposed isolation lasted for almost twenty-five years. In that time period, Tony didn’t take on a lover or even think about letting another person into his life. He got by on his excellent relationship with Steve and the few hands that had been there from the beginning. It was almost too easy to stay solitary and never let the world around him come close to hurting him ever again. The fact that Peter managed to get under the high walls of his fortress meant there was already no escaping it.

And now that their lips had met and Tony knew what it felt like to have Peter pressed against him – well, he almost didn’t want to fight it, anymore. Times changed and so did the way the world saw people with differences.

Unable to come to terms with what happened to him, Tony turned his head away from all of the advancements that occurred – allowing himself to hope for something better felt like a death wish.

Yet, the more time let himself get to know Peter, the more he felt himself wanting to give in to the hope – wanting to give in to Peter and the thing that could easily burn so intensely between them. At what point did the fear that ran his life get the better of him? When, after so much time of being by himself for both protection and self-preservation, was enough actually enough?

The answer to that question came in the form of a knock on the main house door halfway through day three of ignoring the entire situation. He was sock-clad in his kitchen with chicken salad halfway prepared when the sound echoed around the house – his heart kicking up in pace and volume with every resounding pound. Putting everything on the counter, Tony took a couple of seconds to pull in a few deep breaths before he could even think about turning around and answering the door. He wasn’t sure how he knew it was Peter there waiting for him, but something in his gut spoke loudly – the all-too-familiar feeling of rightness dragged him to the door without thought.

With so much adrenaline coursing through him, the door was within his grasp way quicker than he expected. The doorknob was already in his hand before he could think about what came next, and when Peter stood there on the other side, hat in his hands, a somber look in his eyes – Tony lost it. His momentum carried him over the threshold, long arms scooping Peter into him until they were pressed flush together, chest against chest. They shared the same breaths for a moment before lips were upon each other again, this kiss sure where the last one shared between them carried so much apprehension.

Their lips stayed sealed together until Peter pushed against him, the movement just enough to bring his brain back to earth. His eyes searched Peter, Tony eager to understand what brought the distance between them this time.

Understanding the inner turmoil, Peter placed another soft kiss on Tony’s lips, his eyes flashing with mischief and want. “You’re gonna crush my hat,” Peter mumbled, a soft smile overtaking his lips. “Invite me in, cowboy.”

“Oh. Yeah. Fuck – please come in, Pete.”

Tony didn’t hesitate to step back, his heart was racing, and limbs were shaking, but the chance he wanted was right in front of him – and he sure as hell was going to take it; fear and past-precedence be damned. With Peter in front of him the way he was, so open and willing, trusting Tony to make the right decision – he felt like he could take on the world.

Peter walked into the house just enough for Tony to get the door shut before he was manhandling long limbs. Tony’s back pressed against the heavy wood with a gentle push and answering thud. Now that the hat was no longer in sight, Tony took the opportunity to press their bodies back together, the feeling of Peter against him head to toe so intoxicating – literally everything he ever dreamed he could want.

Their lips pressed and pushed together, the never-ending battle of who controlled what continuing throughout the dance to Tony’s bedroom. Landing in a heap like they did, Peter ended up between Tony’s bare thighs, his hands passing across the goose fleshed skin there. Tony threw his head back with every caress, the weight of another man on top of him so foreign and exciting after so many years with only his own hand for company.

A soft nose pressed against the length of Tony’s neck, the exhaled air and light caress dragging a light moan from deep within. Lips traced veins and bare skin until Peter had the lobe of Tony’s ear in his mouth, soft kisses placed around the shell almost enough to end things before they really got started. Tony tensed up, his body desperately fighting itself with every touch and kiss.

“It’s alright, Tony. It’s alright,” Peter whispered, his fingers finding Tony’s to tangle them together tightly. There was a quick shift until their eyes were locked and Peter was gazing down at him with so much lust and affection. He wanted so desperately to give in that his stomach was churning – the need and anxiety battled with each other every step of the way.

Instead of continuing the heavy petting from before, Peter kept their gazes locked – his hands running lightly down and around, then up and back until all of Tony relaxed. He used eyes and lips and arms to smash the surface of what Tony thought reality was, only to bring the truth to the forefront. His desire, the melting hot feeling of being consumed – there was merit to it, and it was returned so deliciously.

Sensing that Tony was finally settled, Peter got back to work – his lips trailed down Tony’s neck, across his collarbones and pecs with nips and licks following that very same path. He paused at each nipple, giving each nub a rundown until both were peaked and hard – the flesh sensitive to every touch now that the pleasure neurons were firing. The softest stubble of Peter’s five o’clock shadow drew soft sounds of joy from Tony’s lips – the idea of having beard burn on his body was insanely attractive; almost too much for his wrung-out soul.

Peter eventually stopped between his legs, that warm tongue of his worming out to trace along Tony’s length, down drawn up balls, across his perineum, and settling against his still tense pucker. He lathered the outside of the muscle with sweeps of a soft tongue and warm kisses – Peter’s ministrations dragging Tony even further under than before; his entire being was ablaze with the best kind of fire and heat.

Nimble fingers spread Tony’s cheeks for more room as Peter upped the stakes and started to go at Tony’s hole with vigor. Little by little, Tony felt the tip of Peter’s tongue press against his rim, each inch of it pressing in easier as the moments past. Every brush got Tony to open up a little further, his legs widening with each lick and press across his most private place.

Soon, a thumb joined in on the action, Peter pressing the digit in without any sort of preamble. Feeling a bit fuller, Tony forced his head up to take in the blissed-out look on Peter’s face. Though he was the one delivering all the pleasure at the moment, Peter looked like he belonged right where he was, settled between Tony’s legs bringing them one step closer to finally falling over the edge – together; the way it should be.

A quick fumble with the bedside table had lube in Peter’s hand, his fingers slick with it before either man could even blink. The added addition of long fingers to the already tantalizing push and pull of tongue and hole had Tony on edge, his cock almost completely untouched until that point. He let one, and then two fingers press into him without complaint – it’d been a long time since he even used fingers on himself, let alone allowing another person to do so. By the time Peter tried to push in with a third finger, Tony was panting with want – the tight bow of his body racked up and ready to release upon the slightest instance of a command.

The clench of muscle and heat around Peter’s fingers must’ve finally been enough for him – he gently removed his fingers from Tony’s ass and quickly fumbled with the lube bottle, the cap and his fingers a sticky-slick combination. While he worked that out, Tony tried not to mourn the fullness, his brain doing its best to remind the rest of him that Peter’s cock was inches away – and probably just as eager to drive home as Tony was.

About to turn over onto his belly, Tony was stopped by Peter’s hand on his shoulder. He gave him a curious look, his head tilting to the side in question.

“I want to be able to see your face,” Peter replied simply, the hand on Tony’s shoulder moving easily to press against his cheek. His thumb traced under Tony’s cheek bone – the caress filled with affection and meant to be calming.

Settling back against the mattress, Tony let out a small sigh. Peter immediately laid down over him, his weight pressing Tony even further into the bed. They shared a look as Peter shifted and moved, the head of his dick pressing against Tony’s entrance almost unexpectedly. With the slightest pressure, Peter popped inside of him, the stretch and burn there, but barely noticed.

Instead, Tony kept his eyes on Peter, their eyes dancing together with lust and want and need and safety – the intrinsic feeling of the rightness between them easing the way with every slow roll of Peter’s hips. Fully seated, Peter broke the gaze, resting his forehead against the side of Tony’s neck, instead. His lips were like liquid fire against Tony’s skin – every piece of him entering into that stage of delicious sensitivity.

“Oh god, Pete. You feel – “ Tony cut himself off when Peter started to thrust, the pleasure of it all robbing him of any tangible communication skills. Moans and pants filled the space instead, the pitch of his noises climbing in volume and intensity with every thrust.

Like most things between them so far, their coupling stayed pretty silent. Peter used touch to talk, instead – his hands gripped Tony’s hips, then shifted to press tightly into the thighs he was now holding up for better leverage for his own hips to thrust and move and roll in all of the right spots. He pressed kisses against Tony’s sweaty skin, and when things got really good, he let his teeth dig into the spot where neck and shoulder meet.

Tony felt his orgasm come on in little increments. His stomach filled with an untouchable heat. The warmth spread from there, down his limbs until each of his digits was completely overcome. When all was said and done, Tony felt the flare of that heat settle into the corner of his heart, the immensity of it dragging him down and under – his body and soul finally free.

Lips pressed against his ear again, Peter’s repeated “come on, come on – give in to me,” the soundtrack of first his orgasm, and then Peter’s right after. His voice shifted, Peter’s mumbled “Tony!” deep and gravely – low in the way that only something satisfying could bring out of someone.

Collapsing in a heap of limbs and sweat and the glorious scent of sex, Tony kept Peter wrapped up tightly against his chest – the thought of either of them going anywhere anytime soon more than Tony could possibly take. Peter was here now – the place in Tony’s arms belonged to him and this experience did nothing but drive that truth home.

He let a grin slip over his exhausted lips – the sedated look following him all the way into the deepest hour of sleep Tony Stark ever got.

Later, when cum and sweat and apprehension were washed away, Peter pulled Tony into the circle of his arms, the still wet strands of floppy hair resting against Peter’s chin. They laid in silence for a while, Tony’s only movement the soft brush of fingers up and back down a lean back.

“Thank you,” Tony mumbled, his arms tightening their hold.

Peter pressed kiss after kiss against whatever skin of Tony’s he could reach in their reclined position, his own grip tightening. “I’ll chase that hurt of yours, Tony. Just stay right here and we’ll get through it together.”

Glancing up, Tony let the words wash over him, let Peter see the way his promise affected him. They locked eyes for the hundredth time that day and with the utmost feeling of rightness, Tony nodded his head. He wanted to give in, wanted to take Peter up on the love and protection and companionship he was offering.

He nodded again, once more for emphasis, then tucked into the perfect Tony-sized spot against Peter’s side. Laying a soft kiss on the skin there, Tony felt himself sigh and relax – finally feeling himself giving in and letting go.

#starker #bobbie writes #give in to me #sorry for the repost #it didn't show up in the tag the first time #fingers crossed it does this time around #peter parker/tony stark

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belliesandburps · 3 years

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Followup with MGS4 Peace Walker and 5?

History has a funny way of repeating itself. :P

This one's actually gonna be long, so I'll cap it here to spare those uninterested in non-kink posts the burden of having to scroll past this fanboy rant. 'XD

Metal Gear Solid 4: Guns of the Patriots

3. It's Okay

Soooooo...not a controversial opinion to say that I don't think MGS4 is GREAT. I adored it when it first game out, and I still enjoy replaying it from time to time. But good lord, so many of the interviews shed light on a LOT of this games problems.

Some backstory is required. Hideo Kojima was done with MGS by this point. He planned to move on and leave the series to the younger generation. But then, there was a lot of internal conflict and struggle to determine what MGS4 should be after Fukushima quit (AND was rumored to have been murdered by the Yakuza...how that rumor started...and became a SERIOUS rumor that millions believe, I do not know...). So Kojima came back, course corrected, and the end result was kind of a giant mess.

I'm not talking story because, there's just way too much to unpack. But as a game, MGS4 can't decide what sort of video game it wants to be. It had a brilliant idea that had never been done before with its Battlefield Stealth, which were the best parts of the game. And then they get dropped two acts in, and what gets replaced in their stead is not nearly as fun.

The game had substantially less boss fights than its predecessor, and a lot of them were mechanically simplistic or just didn't let you get creative with how you fought them. And we later learned there were a lot more bosses planned, more gameplay sequences planned, and an entire other PMC group that got canned in favor of the Scarabs so Shadow Moses could be guarded by machines instead.

There's a lot about MGS4 that I love. I think the first two acts are amazing, ESPECIALLY Act 2. I think the mechanics are great. REX vs RAY is criminally fun. The sheer buffet of insane weapons gives the game a good amount of replay value. And the graphics still hold up to this day!

But what I finally realized is that the game juggles way too many ideas and doesn't give any idea the time they deserve to flourish. Battlefield Stealth could've CARRIED MGS4. But it gets dumped before we can get our moneys worth. A disguise sequence could've been really creative, having to juggle different identities with OctoMask every time one identity is burned. But it's only used once and wasted because it's only used for a terrible tailing mission that doesn't let you actually explore the European City. And too many of the action set pieces are kind of bland except the bosses and piloting Metal Gear.

MGS4 should've been MGS4. Not MGS's "Best Hits."

Metal Gear Solid: Peace Walker

1. LOVED it!

I know this is unpopular to say, but I'll say it. Peace Walker is one of the best Metal Gear games ever made. I adored almost everything about it. The gameplay improves on MGS4 in most ways because it doesn't juggle a billion ideas all at once. It's MGS4 stripped down to stealth action from start to finish, and that's all I wanted. The level design is great. The insane volume of guns changes the entire feel of combat in later post-campaign gameplay. The mission select options mean you can jump into all the parts of the game you enjoy the most. There's TONS of bonus missions that are really inventive and fun to replay. And the story is one of the best in the series. It's straight forward, very tight, characterized well, and is the best iteration of Big Boss to date.

Peace Walker's also the FUNNIEST MGS game by Kojima as well. There's so much more personality and levity to everything, to the point where Big Boss often feels like an MCU character. That might sound bad, but it's really not. That corniness fits MGS PERFECTLY, and I'd argue is tonally spot on for this series. MGS doesn't need to be dark, gory or explicit. It's a silly series that's about giant robots, corny bad ass super agents with an anti-nuke message.

The only downsides to Peace Walker are the QTE's and the boss fights. This was a feature that only ever appeared in this game and for good reason...it was fucking terrible. So basically, you had cutscenes that forced you to do various QTE's or else get dinged on your ratings at the end, even if you played perfectly. Fairly minimal, but then, you get to Strangelove's torture. And this is the single most rage-inducing part of any MGS game ever made. It's an insanely physically painful button mashing sequence that will leave your fingers raw and your PS3 triangle buttons jamming. And the ONLY way you can replay one of the best missions in the game (the prison escape where you have no items) is by redoing that sequence over and over. And the boss fights? While inventive, they're all just grindy bullet sponges with no personality, no stealth tactics, and no room for creativity the way you can get creative with every other MGS game's bosses. This was the biggest disappointment for me because the stealth and combat mechanics of PW are great and would've been SO good against human enemies like what Portable Ops had. Instead, every boss is a mini-Metal Gear all voiced by the VOCALOID AI from the mid 2000's, and each one takes forever to destroy. It sucks because PW had a TON of bosses, but only a few of them are any fun, and that's only if you have weapons that are strong enough that they don't take ages to destroy.

But asides from the bosses, the REST of the game is so damn good that I don't even care because that's just one element to a much larger, grander game. Which is even more impressive when you consider PW was originally on the PSP before the PS3 port. And this game has more content and replay value to it than most games I've played since.

Metal Gear Solid V: The Phantom Pain

1. LOVED it!

Hooooooookay...so, I've rambled about my storybook romance with MGSV for YEARS now. (Just ask @twistedtummies2, he's been subjected to my fanboying of this game more than anyone in existence XD) But there's a reason I regard this game as one of my all time favorites and the best MGS game to date.

It's REALLY freakin' fun.

Kojima had been re-energized by the time he got to MGSV. He'd been working on the game around the time he finished Peace Walker in 2010. He KNEW it was his final MGS game and wanted to do something completely different...

...He wanted to make a game where the central focus was on...waaaaait for it...the gameplay...

MGSV was designed to be, what he described, as a toybox. You have these missions that all take place in structurally unique outposts like any level in MGS. And the missions are designed with the structure needed so that they all feel different, but all remain so open ended that you can play them countless different ways.

MGSV's game model is everything GTA SHOULD'VE been. It fully embraces the open world freedom and incorporates that into the missions flawlessly. And it plays in such a way that stealth and combat both feel like they were the primary point. In MGS, combat is usually a last resort. But with MGSV, you can fly into an outpost blasting away on your helicopters mini-gun, shoot up the bad guys, rescue your target, throw them back into the chopper and fly away while "The Final Countdown" blares on your choppers loud speakers.

Every method of gameplay is valid and the controls, the enemy AI responsiveness, it's all, bar none, the best I've experienced in ANY video game. Sneaking around feels tight and tense and combat makes you feel like Jack Bauer on adrenaline. (I mean, he IS the voice of Venom Snake)

And I really like the story for the most part too. Its weaknesses are really glaring. Namely, the "Fun" of MGS is completely devoid in the story (which is really odd since it's FRONT AND CENTER in-game). Venom Snake only has maybe six minutes of dialogue in the entirety of this 30+ hour long game. And the way Skull Face gets completely undercut right at the home stretch is something I have NOT stopped bitching about for almost six years, and my friends can personally attest to that.

That and the ending feels too abrupt.

We know that Kojima got fired by Konami's VP and said VP scorched the entire production company after that and made a series of dickheaded decisions that pissed off a LOT of fans, burning much of the good will Konami IP fans had towards the company. But that had nothing to do with MGSV's abruptness. That was the plan from the start because only Kojima would think to end the entire series on a plot twist like that.

And I think the issue isn't the twist at all. In fact, I LOVE the twist. The issue is that the game should've continued beyond it so Venom Snake could cope with the truth and realize how badly he'd been screwed. I think even people who hated the twist could've been won over if there was a little more to the games epilogue than Episode 46.

Also, the games boss fights were a tad underwhelming. Not the fights themselves, I LOVED all five of the games bosses.

Oh? There were twelve?

No. I meant what I said. Because so many of the games bosses are rematches against the same bosses. All MGSV has is the Skulls, Quiet, Eli, The Man on Fire, and Metal Gear. They're great bosses that do everything the best MGS bosses always did; give you tons of options, incorporate combat AND stealth, have varied attacks AND even have multiple methods to sneak around the boss and avoid the fight completely. But for a game as long as MGS, you need more variety. And frankly, the bosses NEED more personality. Skull Face should've had more XOF assassins acting as the bosses in the game along with the ones we have. Elite assassins like Quiet, with their own powers and specialized weaponry so the fights feel completely different from the ones we have. And oh yeah, SKULL FACE HIMSELF SHOULD'VE HAD A GOD-FUCKING-DAMN BOSS FIGHT!!!!

Buuuuuuut those issues don't even matter if for all the games issues, I still replay it frequently when it's almost six years old.

So yeah! There's the massive rant you totally didn't ask for! :D

#ask belliesandburps #mgs4 #mgsv #peace walker #metal gear #metal gear solid #seriously #i'm very very VERY bitter about how Kojima did Skull Face dirty #here's this really great villain with a super complex backstory and motivation #whadduya wanna do with him kojima-san?#I'VE GOT IT!!!!!!#we'll do...absolutely nothing!#he'll show up in five missions out of a thirty nine mission long game #he'll talk at venom snake a few times and do some cool things #then right around the time we're supposed to fight him?#a random twelve year old will hijack metal gear through a PSYCHIC twelve year old and crush Skull Face before we can do anything cool! :D #hold your applause children! :D #................we weren't clapping kojima-san...........#also sins of the father?#heaven's divide?#donna burke is amazing #seriously she is an in-freakin'-CREDIBLE singer #sorry cynthia hall #i got love #but...#whoooooa-HHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAHHHH!!!!!!!

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annafm · 4 years

Text

(MEDALION RAHIMI, NONBINARY) - Have you seen ANNABEL MAJIDI? ANNA is in HER/THEIR JUNIOR year. The LITERATURE + INVESTIGATIVE JOURNALISM MAJOR is 22 years old & is a SCORPIO. People say SHE/THEY are DILIGENT, ADROIT, CYNICAL and AUSTERE. Rumors say they’re a member of WINTHROP. I heard from the gossip blog that THEY ARE FAKING BEING A PSYCHIC. (JAMES. 21. EST. THEY/THEM.)

hllo this is anna i hvnt .. played her in a while <3 bt thts okay i think she is very fun 2 play bt like in the way tht she is <3 serious n mean a bit ... bt its okay .. LHKDSGFHLKSDHLKG im sorry this is long this is. an old intro i hvnt rly changed much >.>

CAR ACCIDENT, INJURY TW

aesthetic.

falling feathers darkened at the tips, tweed and pinstripes, red trenchcoats and plaid skirts, worn ballet shoes covered in dust, smudged eyeliner and unruly hair, boxing gloves, ornate canes and pain medication, bandaged hands, classical music floating throughout an empty ballroom, worn jackets and awkwardly cut t-shirts, spilled ink and stained hands, glasses skewed, sneers and jabs, constant fighting, smog in a city, spotlights and encores, piles of books and a long line, backless dresses and sitting alone at a bar, wariness.

basic.

full name: annabel odeda majidi

nickname(s): anna, annie (father only), anna-banana (father only)

b.o.d. - october 31st, 1997

label(s): the catalyst, the charlatan, the minefield, etc.

height: 5′6″

hometown: nyc, ny

sexuality: bisexual

stats

favorite song: you’re dead, norma tanega / now, your hope and compassion is gone / you’ve sold out your dream to the world / stay dead, stay dead, stay dead / you’re dead and outta this world

background.

born to two high schoolers who never married, firoj majidi and parvana banai. they were head over heels for each other - when firoj graduated he took up two jobs alongside community college to support their family, until parvana graduated and took on the arts.

growing up was tough - living in the city wasn’t cheap, parvana’s art rarely sold and the two often went without eating in order to provide for annabel. as a child she’d often wear hand-me-downs from extended family.

was taught to be a hard worker and it was reflected in her schoolwork - anna excelled in all her classes but especially english. her love for writing grew at a young age, and as a child she saved up enough money to buy herself proper journals.

the only thing that she grew more passionate towards than writing was ballet - she caught the image of girls flying through the air and landing on their toes in the window of a dance studio on a walk home from school one day and that was it - something clicked inside of her.

that same day she would spend hours prancing about their tiny apartment, trying to mimic what she’d seen. it was easy to spot the passion anna had for the dance - and within a few months they had saved up enough money for a month’s worth of lessons.

anna was ecstatic - her slippers were old and found in the back of a thrift store by an odd miracle, but she put her all into the lessons regardless. she was quick to pick up on each move, and by the end of the month it was clear that anna had a natural talent.

parvana picked up a job in order for them to keep affording the lessons, month after month - they weighed down on their pockets, but it kept anna happy.

flash forward a few years - life was good. money was still a struggle but they were tight knit.

or rather, anna thought they were tight knit.

firoj and parvana split up when anna was twelve - an event that rocked the young girl’s world, something that she couldn’t understand. they had kept up a front of love when anna was home from school or ballet - but behind doors, they had been growing apart.

anna viewed their separation as parvana running off with another man - an art collector who had a fascination with paravana’s paintings. she viewed this as the end of the world. she viewed this as the death of love.

when anna was twelve, she swore she would never fall in love - refused to believe in its existence. she couldn’t wrap her mind around the simple separation.

her father got a third job in order to keep up with payments, and anna pushed herself in both ballet and school - not being able to handle an empty apartment. she decided to get a job - to help ease her father, but was too young.

so anna decided to do what any average 12 year old would do. she started scamming people.

she’d sell store-bought lemonade as if it were homemade, stole ceramics from art class and sold them to neighbors. she found an old girl scouts uniform in the back of a goodwill and for the next month, she sold knock-off girl scout cookies from the dollar store - going door to door.

her personality had changed drastically - anna went from a sweet, optimistic girl with warm brown eyes and an infectious laugh to cold, calculated, and downright cruel. she knew what she wanted and how to get it.

she got an invitation to a prestigious private school, full scholarship, before she hit high school - originally wanted to reject it as the thought of being surrounded by new york’s richest teens was appalling, but their ballet program was a one-way ticket into the american ballet theatre. anna ultimately accepted the scholarship.

high school was immediately hell for her - pretentious rich kids who all shared a collective brain cell and her secondhand uniform being a prime target for them.

ballet got extremely competitive - anna was a threat to every dancer in their program, bullying and sabotage became standard - but anna retaliated when possible.

this all, however, suddenly stopped when anna picked up her latest scam: faking psychic. through a small network of ‘bees’ she’d pay to gather information (gossip, rumors, etc. etc.) she was able to accurately ~see~ into students’ past, present, and potentially future affairs. the money was very worth it.

from that point forward, people were intimidated by her.

when anna was 16 she was handpicked to join the american ballet theatre’s studio company, alongside 11 other lucky individuals. her dream from that point forward was to become the youngest principal ballerina for abt - and she was going to start by winning over the role of clara in their production of the nutcracker.

she was 17 when she was chosen, much to the dismay of the other girls. she had momentarily quit her ‘psychic’ business in order to dedicate the entirety of her time towards rehearsals & practice.

the final week before her first performance as clara, anna got into a car accident heading home after another tiresome rehearsal. knocked unconscious, anna woke up three days later with no recollection of the accident - and her leg freshly operated on.

it was a devastating event that should had killed her - maybe she would had been better off if it had - but instead, it had effectively destroyed any chances of her dancing professionally.

it took two months of extensive physical therapy for anna to walk again - now relying heavily on a cane.

with ptsd and depression weighing heavily on her shoulders, anna turned back to writing - mostly as a coping mechanism, but it soon became the fierce passion it once was when she was younger.

for the remainder of her high school life, anna dedicated the majority of her time towards recovery, her writing, and directing her school’s theatre productions. oh - and claiming that almost dying had given her the gift of mediumship. it wasn’t too far off from her psychic claims - her peers believed it well enough to either stay away, or pay her for a small amount of comfort.

decided to attend yates for their reputation despite her hatred for pretentious schools (very ironic because she herself is pretentious) & also. she had a scholarship <3 so.

in the midst of writing her first book that’s based heavily on her experiences as a low income student at a private school but like. she’s side-eying all these societies and seeing a Big Money Grab if she were to. write abt them instead

still can’t dance any longer, but she works as a ballet assistant for one of the dance instructors & still tends to barge her way into theatre rehearsals to <3 give her unwarranted opinion

personality & facts.

she’s not the friendliest person. knows what she wants and how to get it, and will not hesitate to use people or push them out of her way in order to achieve her goals.

her cutthroat nature was the reason for her success in academics and dance - tends to intimidate the students in the ballet classes she helps out in.

horribly stubborn - if she’s got an idea of you already in her mind, then it’s hard to convince her otherwise.

still uses a cane - in fact, she can’t really walk without it - unless she wants to be in pain.

it’s sturdy, ornate, and pretty fucking solid. doubles as a weapon if need be - has definitely … hit people with it before, though she’s calmed down now that she’s a little older.

used to be very angry, very defensive as a teenager - is still the same, just … less intense. will not hesitate to speak her mind and let her opinions known - especially in the face of injustice.

doesn’t really have the best … relationship with authority, mainly because of where she was raised and her con-artist businesses. tends to be snarky and sarcastic to anybody in charge - or really, anybody in general.

pretty distrusting, pretty emotionless on the outside, doesn’t like to be seen as weak or somebody to be pitied. keeps herself closely guarded and doesn’t really let others ‘inside’ due to her own comfort levels.

she’ll sleep around but dating is out of the question, for the most part - she’s been on a few blind dates, a few casual get-togethers - but she’s always the one to break things off. is more of a careful hook-up kind of gal.

still does her psychic medium business !! sometimes she wonders if she’s a bad person because of it - but ultimately, it’s on her customers for believing in all that nonsense anyway. anna herself is a skeptic - doesn’t believe in anything unless she can see it and feel it.

is actually … a pretty sentimental person, doesn’t take anything she’s got for granted, and is hugely appreciative of her father. sends him money when she can. hasn’t spoken to her mother in years - pretty sure she’s got a step / half-sibling or two but she’s never met them.

a lone wolf and likes it that way, but she isn’t super opposed to friendship - even if she won’t necessarily call anybody a friend. appreciates others who are similar to her - got their head on right, and knows what they want in life.

has a pretty bad fear of driving - will uber if she needs to go anywhere - even then, being in cars makes her pretty anxious. still has ptsd-induced panic attacks, though she’s managed them pretty well.

doesn’t really do drugs! will smoke weed to ease the ache and her nerves, but otherwise she only takes what is prescribed for her. doesn’t drink anything hard, either. big fan of beer and wine. probably gets wine drunk home alone late at night … like … two times a week.

goes between being high strung and uncaring - she’s not especially moody ( rather, is just consistently angry for whatever reasons ) but she definitely tries to bottle everything up.

probably keeps pepper spray on her at all times, even though she’s got her cane. has cat ear brass knuckles on her keychain - took advantage of the archery club at her private school. she’s not paranoid, she just likes being prepared.

has a soft spot for children, animals, and soft women. kind of person who will put herself in the line of danger in order to protect others - even if she doesn’t necessarily know them too well.

also the kind of person who’ll set something on fire - or do something because you’ve told her not to. incredibly spiteful when wronged. will raise hell if need be.

morally ambiguous tbh.

wanted connections.

who do u think i am ;; either uh. people who have seen her around campus being a bit of a freak like <3 kick someone’s tire in a small fit of rage <3 or spend 20 minutes trying to coax a cat near her so she could pet it <3 or having a that’s so raven moment <3 or someone who tried to help her out with something and she was like. excuse me. what the fuck. get away from me freak loser. maybe threatened them.

slowburn but make it evil ;; uh. when i played her as older she hd a plot where she <3 ws engaged n then broke it off bcos her fiance cheated <3 so i wld like another. plot where she actually <3 tries to enjoy someone else’s company and presence and it just ends up hurting her n reaffirming her idea tht love is? fake n dumb n stupid. thank u.

ykno ... a little dash of spice ... ;; uh. yknow just hookups. hateships <3 or they never talk abt what happened <3 or an awkward drunk one night stand <3 maybe a pregnancy scare and shes like Ah. motherhood Scares me. because she <3 hates her own mother <3 LDSLKFHLGSHLK. it leaves their relationship rly weird the whole ordeal ... maybe even just a blind date <3 or someone she ghosted

read my future ;; customers very classic uh. just people who come to her for her psychic readings <3 and her uh. talking to the dead <3 but also alternately. skeptics ?? people suspicious of her ?? very epic.

like actually Die? ;; enemies. she hates them so bad. maybe its one-sided. maybe theyre an annoyance. maybe she annoys them? very bad not very good.

and we dance dance dance, dance dance dance <3 ;; this is just. fr ballet students. or, hold up, consider this: someone who recognizes her frm this. very tragic event where she cld no longer b a ballerina bc i think it ws. like not the Biggest deal bt if ur muse ran in private school circles ykno ??

pet the feral cat ;; these r the soft <3 normal connections <3 someone she’s soft for / protective of. friends that she doesn’t completely hate.

i Do Not Know ;; i will. take anything. please. weed dealers, people she’s totally sus about for no reason. she steals and reads their mail. they have been rivals for years. they hv a special bond. they r strangers but they get stuck in an elevator. she’s tutoring them bt she wont let them take a break n she keeps making them recite fucking. shakespeare. anything is sexy and fun n cool

#yatesintro #car accident tw #injury tw #ptsd tw

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silenthillmutual · 4 years

Text

alright let’s do this. let’s talk about why dankovsky is definitely trans.

i’m on day 6 now so i guess i’ll add some shit to the pile as it goes along

of course i could make a ton of jokes that are vague gestures like “i, too, am 5′2 and have my bachelor’s degree, so as a gay trans man i of course know one when i see one”. and i can! i do! i can confirm that at 27 we are just Like That. i think there’s also something to be said about him getting called ‘dandy’ and ‘fop’ by people (which, btw, have been used as slang terms for gay men) - something my friends and i all noticed after starting HRT is that we now care way more about our appearances - but that’s more of the same, more on the fun side of personal interpretation.

but since my bachelor’s degree is in being Deeply Disrespectful*, i might as well go over what i consider to be text-based evidence in favor of this interpretation. because this is the kind of thing i do in my spare time, for fun.

at the moment my working memory only gives me three big things to go on:

first, the carouser who suggests that the mara / shabnak-adyr / steppe creature is actually daniil. all of the steppe creatures mentioned in the game thus far, to my knowledge, take on the guise of women. beyond the obvious (daniil being read as a woman, or effeminate in appearance - something i’ll mention in the next point as well), there’s the fact that all of these steppe creatures appear as something that they aren’t. this could work on several levels; by day 6, people are starting to turn on daniil. because he’s become more or less a glorified errand boy and political chess piece, it would be easy to take a step back and see how he’s being scapegoated now. he’s been set up, as an outsider, as an easy target for disdain - all three of the healers have been, which really comes to a head for him & clara specifically in day 6 (artemiy has been getting it from the first day but by day 6 has disappeared). and although this rumor about daniil comes from talking to the carouser, talking to the teenage boy and the tot will reveal that other NPCs are starting to see him as a failure, too; the tot specifically says “we are so, so afraid of you”. daniil gets called a Harbinger of Death. but this takes on an extra layer of meaning if daniil is in danger of being read as lying about who he is, in terms of gender (which i’ll talk about in point 3).

second, and this isn’t specifically about daniil being trans - but i think he’s almost definitely meant to be read as queer, but maybe with the exact label being open to interpretation. he gets called a fop and a dandy, both of which refer to foolish and vain men who spend too much time focused on their appearance (so it’s kind of funny that he can comment on the wealthy man npc and ask him about the “mad tailor” who came up with his outfit. is daniil insulting it, or is he looking to buy it?) - but those are also both terms that have been used as slang to describe gay men. i’ve seen it mentioned before that although this game doesn’t have dating sim elements in it that daniil can flirt with maria and eva...but honestly? he has flirtatious dialogue with pretty much everyone within his age range. i mean, good god, in artemiy’s route, the his first interaction with daniil includes daniil referencing plato’s description of soulmates to describe them. and artemiy can sleep in his bed. and, actually, with that in mind - rats and dogs aren’t the only ones who take the blame for carrying and spreading disease outbreaks: trans and gay people get thrown under the bus here all the time, too...and daniil is sometimes implied and other times outright accused of being the source of the plague or of its spread. plenty of video games are sloppy, and i could easily handwave something like that...but pathologic is hardly sloppy, so i couldn’t shrug it away here.

last: daniil’s entire route seems to keep circling back to misogyny. in the context of psychological horror, part of what makes the genre its own distinction is bringing the central character’s most secret fears to fruition. this is a staple of the silent hill series; all of alessa’s terrors come to life in silent hill as relentlessly hunted by her mother (while harry, who adores his daughter, has to search to try and find her the whole game, only to fail no matter how well you did), james and angela and eddie are all forced to come to terms with the murders they committed and what that means about them as people, and one of heather’s underlying fears is the terror of sexual assault and pregnancy that leads up to the reveal of how exactly she’s going to give birth to god. and daniil’s route is about uncovering the truth - but the townsfolk’s ideas of uncovering the truth is in brutalizing women, frequently with comments as to how well they perform gender. despite aspity projecting her internalized misogyny on daniil, he has plenty of snarky and furious comments to make about the way women in the town are treated. and here’s what would make this extra horrifying for daniil: they are already starting to turn on him, so what exactly would they do to the doctor they now see as an agent of chaos if he’s outed as afab? the entire context surrounding the townsfolks’ desire to expose women as monsters pulling tricks reeks of transphobia. the steppe creatures do really exist - or at least, one of them does, should you do sticky’s sidequest for day 6 - and you could definitely attribute parts of daniil’s route to be a conflict of old world vs new world, city vs. country, and class oppression - as i think you’re meant to. but the misogyny keeps cropping up the sidelines like veins in an arm. it’s easy to see why mysticism vs. science is a big part of daniil’s journey in the game, and i think it’s (sadly) refreshing to see misogyny shown as an evil, and i get why these things are linked to daniil’s cynical ideas about the nature of humanity and how that’s at war with his being a doctor and the desire to “cure” death or at least extend longevity (it must be hard to want to see a world succeed that wants to see you fail). but what role does misogyny specifically and explicitly play in the horror aspect of his story? (please keep in mind that the realities of how transphobia and [misaimed] misogyny affect trans men needs a lot of nuance; if you are not a trans man yourself, please be open minded to the discussion.)

anyway. that’s what i got so far on my thoughts about the topic... i’m sure i’ll think of more stuff later but it’s like two in the morning and my hyperfix brain should go sleep, lol.

#plato posts #plato plays pathologic #pvp is plato versus player #pathologic spoilers //#despite the title this is actually just headcanon w literary analysis #bachelor deeply disrespectful

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annabcll · 4 years

Text

MEDALION RAHIMI / CIS FEMALE. — annabel majidi is really making a name for themselves as a tier 2 shepherd. i think that she is studying english + investigative journalism in their junior year at lockwood, living in audax. originally from new york city, new york, anna is known to be diligent & adroit, but can also be cynical & austere. — james / 20 / est / she/they.

4/5 !!! so close !! anna doesn’t really have ... any changes to her, except for her connections to the victims section so :^)

TW POVERTY, CAR ACCIDENT, INJURY, DEATH MENTION, GRIEF MENTION

a e s t h e t i c s

falling feathers darkened at the tips, leather jackets and pinstripes, red trenchcoats and plaid skirts, worn ballet shoes covered in dust, smudged eyeliner and unruly hair, boxing gloves, ornate canes and pain medication, bandaged hands, classical music floating throughout an empty ballroom, bomber jackets and cropped tees, spilled ink and stained hands, glasses skewed, sneers and jabs, constant fighting, smog in a city, spotlights and encores, piles of books and a long line, backless dresses and sitting alone at a bar, wariness.

general info !!

full name: annabel odeda majidi

nickname(s): anna, annie (hates), anna banana (father, exclusively)

b.o.d. - october 31st. scorpio child.

label(s): the catalyst, the charlatan, the crepehanger, the minefield

height: 5′6″

hometown: nyc, ny

sexuality: bisexual

stats

biography !!

parvana picked up a job in order for them to keep affording the lessons, month after month - they weighed down on their pockets, but it kept anna happy.

flash forward a few years - life was good. money was still a struggle but they were tight knit.

or rather, anna thought they were tight knit.

when anna was twelve, she swore she would never fall in love - refused to believe in its existence. she couldn’t wrap her mind around the simple separation.

so anna decided to do what any average 12 year old would do. she started scamming people.

high school was immediately hell for her - pretentious rich kids who all shared a collective brain cell and her secondhand uniform being a prime target for them.

ballet got extremely competitive - anna was a threat to every dancer in their program, bullying and sabotage became standard - but anna retaliated when possible.

from that point forward, people were intimidated by her.

she was 17 when she was chosen, much to the dismay of the other girls. she had momentarily quit her ‘psychic’ business in order to dedicate the entirety of her time towards rehearsals & practice.

it was a devastating event that should had killed her - maybe she would had been better off if it had - but instead, it had effectively destroyed any chances of her dancing professionally.

it took two months of extensive physical therapy for anna to walk again - now relying heavily on a cane.

with ptsd and depression weighing heavily on her shoulders, anna turned back to writing - mostly as a coping mechanism, but it soon became the fierce passion it once was when she was younger.

decided to go to lockwood after graduation in order to stay somewhat close to her father - she’s here on a full scholarship for her dual-major in english & investigative journalim

is in midst of writing her first book, based heavily on her experiences as a scholarship student at a private school, YA fiction, essentially - mostly just to dip her toes in the water and to try and become an established author. if it goes well, it’ll become a series.

the watershed app captured her attention immediately, and she’s been slowly trying to work her way up the tiers of shepherds. finds it completely fascinating, and uses it to help with her psychic business.

still can’t dance any longer, but she works as a ballet assistant for one of the dance instructors.

personality !!

lives in audax, where things break A Lot. she’s usually seen threatening RAs and maintenance men until they fix whatever problems. :^)

that being said - she’s not the friendliest person. knows what she wants and how to get it, and will not hesitate to use people or push them out of her way in order to achieve her goals.

her cutthroat nature was the reason for her success in academics and dance - tends to intimidate the students in the ballet classes she helps out in.

horribly stubborn - if she’s got an idea of you already in her mind, then it’s hard to convince her otherwise.

still uses a cane - in fact, she can’t really walk without it - unless she wants to be in pain.

it’s sturdy, ornate, and pretty fucking solid. doubles as a weapon if need be - has definitely … hit people with it before, though she’s calmed down now that she’s a little older.

used to be very angry, very defensive as a teenager - is still the same, just … less intense. will not hesitate to speak her mind and let her opinions known - especially in the face of injustice.

goes between being high strung and uncaring - she’s not especially moody ( rather, is just consistently angry for whatever reasons ) but she definitely tries to bottle everything up.

probably keeps pepper spray on her at all times, even though she’s got her cane. has a gun hidden in her dorm, cat ear brass knuckles on her keychain. she’s not paranoid, she just likes being prepared.

kind of wants to write a novel based off of watershed so! she takes a lot of notes - tends to be very observant.

has a soft spot for children, animals, and soft women. kind of person who will put herself in the line of danger in order to protect others - even if she doesn’t necessarily know them too well.

also the kind of person who’ll set something on fire - or do something because you’ve told her not to. incredibly spiteful when wronged. will raise hell if need be.

morally ambiguous tbh.

connections to the victims !!

tatiana samuels / mutually disliked each other and they’d avoid one another if possible. nobody is quite sure of why - some say it’s because tatiana was skeptical of anna’s psychic business, others say it’s because tatiana had gotten a bad fortune predicting her death.

george craig iii / once a friend of anna’s due to their similar personalities - their friendship was ended because of tatiana. once again - it isn’t quite known why, but it’s been hinted that tatiana had made george choose between her friendship & anna’s. tatiana had been the obvious choice, and that was that.

hana williams / a friend & a client, anna would regularly do tarot readings for hana. after tatiana, anna had tried to keep her readings positive.

christoph wainwright / enemies due to christoph pushing her buttons and generally just rubbing her the wrong way, her own suspicions leading to a natural defense against him, which he reflected.

wanted connections !!

maybe … a roommate?

acquaintances. people who’ve seen her around campus and are curious. people who’ve seen her like … kick someone’s tire in a small fit of rage or spend 20 minutes trying to coax a cat into coming near her so she could pet it.

someone from new york who recognizes her from whatever !! whether it’s from newspaper details of her incident, her legacy at her private school, her legacy as a ballerina before her incident, etc. etc.

has taken up boxing recently - so somebody whose helping her at the gym?

someone who tried to like. help her cross the road or something because they saw her with her cane and she yelled at them so now they’re in this weird spot.

dance students !! if somebody does ballet - she might be helping them.

someone she’s soft for for whatever reason :/

hookups !! of any sort !! the kind where you never talk outside of it, or a hate-fuck scenario … anything !!

customers who come to her for psychic readings and like. comfort in the form of talking to the dead.

people skeptical of her !! maybe trying to ruin her in some way.

other shepherds. someone higher up that she’s trying to manipulate in some way for her own benefits.

a drunk one night stand that neither wants to talk about.

a pregnancy scare with another, separate one night stand! it turned out to be nothing, but there was some. weirdness. between them afterwards.

a blind date or two dnfjgkmh

someone she ghosted :/

ok ok ok so … back when anna was an older muse, she was fresh out of a broken off engagement b/c her husband-to-be cheated on her … so i kinda want … smth similar to happen to her again ? y’know. make her fall in love. break her heart. ruin her again. it’d b fun ! angst is fun !

someone she’s like, protected from a creep at a bar or a club ! and now they feel indebted towards her and she’s just like uuuh no. stop.

annoyances !!

like … maybe a pal or two, or three. mainly just people she gets along with !!

on the other end - something where they just. despise each other for whatever reason. pure hatred.

hatred but make it sexy.

a dealer because even though she can get medical marijuana … it’s good to have a lil extra on ya :)

people She’s suspicious of for whatever reason - someone she caught doing something. suspicious. untrustworthy.

someone where their mail keeps getting mixed up.

uuh really im down for anything !!

#wshintro #car accident tw #injury tw #death mention #grief mention #being poor :/ tw :/#thts a joke im also very poor

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agoldenlight · 4 years

Text

A Reckoning

As a general rule, Danny tried not to have too much wine while drinking alone away from home. It was something he’d carried with him for years, born first of the concern of an immigrant navigating a brand new country, wary of the unknown, and later of the knowledge that had come from falling into sex work. Being drunk alone amongst the members of Moscow’s criminal underbelly was dangerous. Now, it was more habit, than anything else.

And a founded concern that he would do something like this.

Were he sober, he could say that this whole thing wasn’t any one person’s fault. He’d gotten drunk, and Luka could have maybe taken a little more care in his radio calls, and Nikolai...

Well, Nikolai could put his dick in whoever he wanted. Except that the more Danny had had to drink as the evening wore on, the less he liked that thought. So Nikolai could sleep with whoever struck his fancy, but when Danny had done it while they were living together, it became a Thing whenever Nikolai found out about it.

And then Danny had moved out. They had said it was always meant to be a temporary living arrangement (as much as Danny had hated that idea) and Nikolai hadn’t stopped him when he’d brought it up, and then...

And then nothing. Nikolai had backed all the way off, without so much as maintaining regular radio contact. Sometimes Danny heard from him, but for the most part, he didn’t.

Generally, that meant things were over, move on.

But this was Nikolai. Nikolai, who he’d had sex with more than a few times. Nikolai, who he’d lived with for years. Nikolai, who’d asked him to move to a new country with him. Nikolai, who’d bought him dogs, and continued to insist on making wire transfers to keep those dogs well cared for, even on Danny’s relatively small earnings.

Nikolai, who was regularly fucking other people.

Mm, yeah, there it was. His anger, red hot and wine-fueled.

Danny played up how drunk he was (or just let more of the reality seep through) to convince the man at the front desk to let him in and buzz him up to Nikolai’s stupid, whole-floor condo.

He didn’t have his key anymore, but that was fine.

If Nikolai was out again, Danny would wait at the door.

His anger existed without real direction. At Nikolai, sure. The argument could be made that it was largely centered around sex. Further than that, dating. But truthfully, there wasn’t a solid concept for it to rally behind.

He was going to walk up to---the elevator doors slid open---that door, knock, and when Nikolai answered... Just start yelling, maybe. There were plenty of places to start.

They weren’t together, and yet he’d nearly killed Church for having the audacity to go through the motions of courting Danny. They weren’t together, and yet he had always expressed massive levels of concern whenever Danny came home later than usual.

The door thundered under his fist.

Nikolai was fucking other people, and he wasn’t even being subtle about it.

The door fell away before Danny could continue his assault on it, revealing Nikolai, dressed like he might have been planning to go out somewhere (not fancy, but not his staying at home attire), brows knit together.

“Danny?”

Fuck. Him. Fuck him. That was a good place to start. “Fuck you.” The words rolled off his tongue easily. He paired them with a shove to Nikolai’s chest that didn’t even rock him back on his heels. Asshole. “Fuck you.”

Nikolai’s frown grew heavier. “Danny are you-”

“Fuck you,” Danny repeated. He could still taste the wine on his tongue. Fuck him for-- for-- “Do I mean nothing to you?” Oh, ouch Yeah, that. “Did all of this,” a gesture around them to the condo, “mean nothing to you?”

“Danny, I d-”

He shoved again at Nikolai’s chest, and again, and again, until Nikolai finally budged, creating enough space for Danny to get in the doorway. The Russian kept his bulk between Danny and the rest of the condo, though, trapping him in the small space of the entrance hallway.

“Why did you spend months getting mad when I slept with other people, but now that I’m gone, you’re off fucking, what? Three? Four? Men in the red light district?” It would almost hurt less if Nikolai had been bringing home men he’d picked up in bars. Or if, like his coworkers, he was picking favorites from the draculoids he oversaw, if those rumors were to be believed.

That would feel over. But this? This didn’t.

“Is this what you do?” he continued. “Fuck a few escorts until you find one you like, and then string him along until he can’t take the distance when you pull back and he leaves?” That was cruel. Nikolai wasn’t like that.

“Do you pick them for the noises they make when they’re under you, or the way their mouths look when you’re fucking them?” More words meant to cut, but Nikolai didn’t even flinch. He just had that stupid frown on his face, kept trying to interrupt with Danny, I don’t-

Why wasn’t he fucking reacting--?

“Or was I just not doing what you wanted,” a question said like fact. “I’ve had your dick down my throat, if you had a complaint, I could’ve taken it.”

Nikolai did look toward the wall the hall shared with the kitchen, then, expression shifting into something Danny couldn’t quite place, beyond the fact that seeing it just added fuel to the fire. It wasn’t a long look, just a quick flash of his attention to the right, but it was long enough to suggest there was something else on his mind.

Now, of all times, he had something else on his mind.

He shoved again at Nikolai’s chest, and again, finally forcing him back into the living room, but on the last shove, Nikolai’s hands closed around his wrists before he could pull back, keeping him close. (His gaze landed briefly over Danny’s shoulder, off in the kitchen, and his expression shifted again.) “Answer me!”

“Danny, I don’t understand,” came Nikolai’s frustrated response.

He didn’t understand. He didn’t under-- Danny sucked in a breath, gearing up for just what he thought of that, when Nikolai interrupted, “I don’t speak Italian.”

What. “What.”

In the sudden silence that fell, the scrape of wood against stone rang out like a gunshot from behind him.

Nikolai’s gaze slid over to the source of the noise first, concern bleeding through his frustration by whatever he saw over there. He didn’t release his hold of Danny, so the Italian had to make do turning to peer over his shoulder to see-

Noelle. Distantly, something in him was immediately, vehemently horrified to see her standing there.

And she looked... Like she was hoping the floor would swallow her whole, or that it had before this moment, papers clutched in her arms, one leg still pressed against the chair she’d just pushed back and stood from.

From the corner of his eye, Danny saw Nikolai look between the two of them, getting a read on them both. Whatever he found prompted, “What did he say?” Then, “What did you say?”

Rather than answer, Noelle instead stepped away from the table, moving in the direction of leaving the kitchen. Presumably, she was going to be leaving. Quickly. “I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to invade, I was just going.”

“I think that’s best,” Danny agreed at the same time Nikolai said, “Wait.”

Wait? He wanted her to stay?

“Really. We can talk about this,” Noelle lifted the papers a little to contextualize, “another time, it's okay. I shouldn't be here right now.”

Danny couldn’t agree more. Nikolai, apparently, had a death wish.

“No, I-” Eyes back on Danny, Nikolai began again, “You’re drunk. Let me take you home, or call a cab, or-”

Oh. So that was how it was. “You’re getting rid of me.” His mouth felt clumsy around English, but it was easier to manage than Russian.

Immediately, the change was obvious. (Maybe Nikolai had been onto something, saying he hadn’t understood.) Nikolai recoiled, Danny’s words far more effective than a slap to the face. “No.”

“Yes.” For someone so good at his work, what required reading people on some level, Nikolai could be so stupid when it came to other people. He didn’t feel like he was tripping over his words when he next said, “You are literally trying to put me in a car and send me away. But she’s asking to leave. If you don’t want me here, at least have the decency to say it to my face-.” He couldn’t properly shove at Nikolai again, but he pushed his weight forward, feeling Nikolai’s hold on his wrists flex in answer.

He wasn’t going to let go until he heard the answer he wanted, was he? About other people, that thought might have garnered a reaction other than the fresh wave of anger that it did now.

Nikolai didn’t get to dictate all the terms of their interactions, and if he thought he did, he had another thing coming.

“Let me go.” He pulled with increasing insistency against Nikolai’s hold, even as he felt his balance shift too far back. He’d fall if Nikolai let go that second, and yet, he still pulled. “You want me gone, fine, just let me-” Both of them were talking over him, too many words in languages his wine-drunk mind couldn’t quite keep up with. “Let go of me-!”

He wasn’t sure what it was that finally did the trick. Whether his volume, his tone, or the sudden outburst in Nikolai’s native tongue that startled Nikolai into letting go. Danny landed solidly on his ass, and for a heartbeat, all three of them were silent. And then Danny was getting to his feet.

“Danny-”

“No.” He suddenly, desperately didn’t want to be there anymore. “Don’t touch me.” He didn’t look up to see if Nikolai had understood that. He needed to leave. All of that, and his outburst hadn’t even had a lasting impact because Nikolai hadn’t understood a word he’d said.

He wasn’t sure if Noelle said something else, or if Nikolai had grown some sense and knew better than to reach out again, but Danny managed to get out the door and into the elevator without more incident.

#drabbles #blvckenedsoul #repcnere #///idk about this ending but #here #the thing

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gwiiyeoweo · 5 years

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When the world caught news the Lucian Prince was finally ready for courtship, dozens of kingdoms and twice as many noble houses sent their sons and daughters to Insomnia, all in hopes of worming their way into royalty and alliances — and all in vain.

Ignis Scientia is the 25th suitor, the 25th Alpha out of hundreds to actually pass the Council’s background checks, but he doesn’t hold much hope or expectations. Yet unlike the whispers that claim the Prince to be a meek and shy little thing, he learns Noctis Lucis Caelum is made of tempered fire and a spark of lightning.

And that’s not even the half of it.

Situational: Marriage proposals or getting permission to court Pairing: Ignis/Noctis Rating: G @ignoctweek

“It shan’t hurt to try, boy,” his aunt had said, patting down the lapels of his suit and neatly tucking the pocket square at his breast. She had given him a quick once-over, turning him this way and that to make sure not a single crease or ball of lint escaped her sharp eye, then let the attendant usher him into the car, sent by the Citadel itself. “Twenty-four ladies and gentlemen turned and gone, but who says you won’t be the one to please him?”

‘The twenty-four who were rejected,’ he hadn't said.

Ignis Scientia sits in the backseat, the partition up and separating his small space and the driver’s — at his request — and he fiddles with the thin metal band on his left middle finger. The black ring is an accomplishment and an infuriating thing all at once. As simple as it is, no gem or jewel aside from the thin line of silver cutting around it, it’s the mark of approval every Alpha across Eos has been salivating for, given to only twenty-four — no, twenty-five individuals thus far. A glimmer of hope, a peak at a distant dream, that the suitor will be the one to win the Prince’s hand.

And yet, it sits just one finger away from where every rejected courter wishes it to be. It’s a mocking thing, teasing with that faint sliver of what would be a black ring adorned with a piece of the Crystal itself, and it may as well burn his finger from where it wraps around. He can feel the faint pulse of magic ingrained into the metalwork, a measurement of authenticity to verify his identity once he passes through the Citadel’s gates, but it feels like a hefty shackle better suited for his wrist instead.

When his parents had suggested he try for the Prince’s hand, he waved it off as a tedious effort he had no time for. The vetting process, the background checks, interviews, all of it a string of paperwork and nonsense he wasn’t privy to. It was a joke when he had said he’d do it only if they could magically do the pre-work for him.

He hadn’t expected his entire family to work through the fine print and bring in their government connections to land him a slot as the next suitor, no signature or interview required.

Ignis knows, in his early days of far-gone youth and blurry times of childhood, he had visited the Citadel exactly twice before, once in a school field trip and once under the guidance of his uncle. (He also knows, his uncle must have had a hand in all this, being in the Council’s ranks and all.) But he remembers them as portraits painted in watercolors, smudged and foggy where they cross and bleed into each other, and not as the towering pillars of stark steel and sharp glass he stands before. He thinks there was a boy involved, something about getting lost in the maze of a modern palace and getting rescued by a child several years younger.

He cranes his head as far back as his neck is willing, shadowing a hand over his eyes and admiring the four towers and the halo of the sun just above them.

It’s intimidating, and though he’s never considered himself one of low-esteem or confidence, he feels his existence a small thing when juxtaposed to the grand scheme of it all. He still doesn’t believe he’ll be the one to win over the Prince’s heart — has no plans to, really, because the weight of royalty has no place in his life — but he’ll try. He hates to put his family’s efforts to waste or toss their name into the dirt for some unsightly display of his character, so at the very least, he’ll humor the fantasy of being lucky number twenty-five.

There’s no fanfare, no special carpet rolled out to meet him, and he follows his guide up and into the Citadel. It’s silent, except for the footsteps that echo off the marble floors and walls, and he tries not to let the grand architecture and careful stares of the guards distract him. When he walks down the aisle into the audience chamber, he expects to see the great King and his son at the throne, flanked by their corresponding Shields and perhaps some Council members. But there’s no one, not a single soul to look down upon him and judge his entire worth with a single glance or quiet snide, no King or Prince to give their approval or lack thereof.

Just as Ignis wonders if they’ve all gotten the date wrong or if some poor attendant got all their schedules mixed, he catches the shake and sigh of his guide.

“Like father, like son,” she mutters in her breath, shoulders going slack for just a moment before straightening out again. In that short window of weakness, she looked like an employee whose work deserved more than her current paygrade. “I think they’re in the greenhouse. This way, please.”

A walk through some corridors and long-winding hallways plus a trip in the elevators is how Ignis finds out the Royal family likes to keep a make-shift greenhouse on one of the upper levels. The corner of the southeast tower is made entirely of glass with just enough steel for structural support, and he tries his hardest to keep to the gravel path and avoid stepping on the overgrowth and crawling leaves.

He also meets both King and Prince in very casual attire and elbows deep in damp soil. King Regis’ white shirt has probably seen better, crisper days and without dirt stains, and Ignis never thought he’d see His Majesty wearing tan cargo shorts surrounded by bags of dirt and half-potted plants.

The same goes to Highness Noctis Lucis Caelum, who wears black sweats and a loose fitting tank top wet with either sweat or water or both, his hair losing whatever styling that’s been done to it. There’s dirt on his cheek, and Ignis has enough sense to not offer his handkerchief.

Ignis had kept an open mind to how their first impressions would go, though he expected at least a formal audience in the throne room, but meeting a literally dirty prince struggling with a trowel and ripping straight through a bag of soil was not a scenario he accounted for. As the bag falls apart and the soil with it, accompanied by an amused King Regis at the expense of his son’s mishap, so does Ignis’ handful of plans on what-if’s and how-to’s.

News outlets and tabloids, despite the exaggerations and far-off conspiracies, hold at least a modicum of truth; every rumor has to start off with some sort of foundation based on fact, after all. The media is a ravenous thing, always looking for the next big scoop, and Prince Noctis had been a treasure trove for the entertainment industry for the past year, ever since His Majesty declared his hand was available for marriage.

An Omega prince, easy for anyone with a sliver of sensibility and a decent amount of charm to woo. Meek and mild, soft and ripe for an Alpha’s taking; a bit shy, but that’s just the allure of a shrinking violet, ready to bloom in all his brilliance once he found his dearest betrothed, they all said. Something of a recluse, ever since the daemon attack that traumatized the poor thing, with only the rare appearance on official holidays and always with his guards at the ready. And whenever Prince Noctis did appear in public, oh how the cameras would shutter, snapping like the ravenous teeth of the paparazzi. Articles would sing with praise of how handsome and fine the young heir had become, or go on tangents on his fair skin “from keeping himself within the Citadel’s safe walls, ever since the tragic daemon attack that almost took our young Prince’s life.”

He was the rendition of the tragic beauty in those popular novels Ignis’ aunts raved about.

Except, looking at him now, this soft boy the world claimed him to be, Ignis thought him anything but. He’s dirty, covered in grime and dust and with an easy grin plastered onto his face, his hair sticking every which way it can with sprinklings of what look to be seeds, and Ignis sees the faint beginnings of tan lines around his shoulders where his tank top doesn’t cover.

The guide clears her throat, earning a quick snap of their eyes, Prince Noctis looking up from his hands where he was salvaging the spilled soil, King Regis from his son.

“Your Majesty, Your Highness,” she says calmly, but Ignis is sure he hears that barest hint of reprimand in her tone. “I present Ignis Scientia.”

On reflex, he places a hand over his chest and bows from the waist up.

“That was today?” both King and Prince say in unison.

Ignis won’t lie, that stings a bit. He didn’t expect fanfare or any grand announcement of his arrival, but to be forgotten so easily… Well, at least he has thick skin.

His guide, though, at least channels some of his sentiments through a huff of exasperation. “ Yes, it was. ”

Ignis straightens up to see Prince Noctis looking not even a fraction guilty, though his father has the decency to appear apologetic — if only just a little. Regis offers his condolences, speaking something of time slipping away and how distractions came into play, but Ignis doesn’t hear much of it with how all his attention zeroes in on the younger Caelum.

By all means, Prince Noctis should be looking more like a labor worker with the dirt and sweat smeared all over him, but there is no denying the charm and fine features he sports; there is something exquisite beneath that layer of grime, a certain allure no luxury beauty cream or high-end perfume could ever hope to replicate. That always belonged to the royal houses of Eos, and it could very well be a testament to his long-running pedigree. Despite the scents of soil and flowers and fertilizer, Ignis can catch the distinct aroma of an Omega — soft but subtle and surprisingly comforting.

Even King Regis, despite the drain of the Crystal and his graying hair, that looks more like finely spun platinum, has aged like fine Tenebraean wine and still looks absolutely regal despite his questionable attire.

Just.

The near predatory gaze Prince Noctis criticizes Ignis with is unnerving. That sharp eye and oppressing aura, the commanding presence that demands and orders with sharp teeth and fire, all belongs to an Alpha and not to an Omega who apparently likes to garden in his free time. (The gardening part makes sense, something out of sprucing up a home, a nod toward domesticity and all that.)

Immediately he thinks his brain must be playing tricks on him. There's another Alpha here, sizing him up and seeing if he's suitable to court the Prince, somewhere hidden within all the green and glass. No way this soft and timid Omega is putting such pressure out, setting him on edge as if a threat lurks just around the corner. But no matter how hard he tries, Ignis can't scent another Alpha out.

He barely catches the last of the King’s rules, the guidelines under which Ignis is allowed to court the Prince.

“…One calendar month. Your room, while not within the same hallway, will be on the same floor as my son’s. Monica will take you to your quarters to familiarize yourself, but you are free to help yourself to whatever amenities afterwards.”

Ignis is sure the “amenities” do not include secret vaults and restricted areas and that there will be guards lurking around every corner to keep eyes on him. He has nothing to hide, though, and no interest in deep dark family secrets to sniff out and sell to the press or hold as blackmail against the King himself.

He hopes he wasn’t caught staring like an arba in headlights and bows once more toward the King, then to the Prince, and utters his sincerest thanks for the opportunity and accommodations.

Yet even as he leaves, the skin of his neck prickles under that same cutting gaze, feeling the threat of broken glass aimed at his turned back and ready to strike at his vital points. He half expects a sword to run itself through him, but nothing ever comes. All he hears is the crinkle of that soil bag and the scrape of a trowel.

His guide — named Monica, it seems — takes him to the elevators once more and they rise a few more levels up. When she drops him off to his assigned room, he wonders where on this floor the Prince must live in but clamps his mouth shut before he has the chance to ask. If he was privy to that information, he’s sure that would have been mentioned. So he shares a word of gratitude to Monica at the door, closes it behind him, and sinks into the oversized armchair by the decorative fireplace.

It's early spring, but he thinks to toss in a few logs and light it up, just to melt the lingering chill of that gaze he still feels. When he strikes the match and coaxes the embers to life, and the goosebumps on his skin have yet to settle, he dares a conjecture: that the reason the twenty-four suitors failed laid not in any shortcomings of their own but in some aspect of the Prince himself.

Ignis spent his first day familiarizing himself with the Citadel, or at least, the few levels above and below him. He never gave much thought to how or why they needed so many floors and four towering skyscrapers to do whatever business they do, but after having caught a glimpse of just what happens within these gilded walls, he has a sort of understanding. Much of the staff, he learned, live within the Citadel — from the maids and cooks to guards and secretaries.

There’s also an entire floor dedicated to just office cubicles. He had immediately pressed for the lobby when his elevator doors opened to reveal the hectic mania of flying documents and screaming office phones and the sound of at least five keyboards breaking simultaneously. It had been a painting of utter chaos and coffee mugs being chucked over dividers and across printing machines, and never faster had Ignis nope’d out of a place before.

So after spending the first day avoiding the Prince, he isn’t surprised when a manservant knocks at his door, delivering an invitation to join His Highness for some light brunch. He accepts, because who is he to refuse royalty?

When he steps inside, a corner room with a fantastic view of the kingdom below, the hairs on his neck go rigid and cold under that familiar pressure. He feels that look again, that oppressive gaze of a lion sizing up a rabbit, and Ignis tries his best to keep his wits about him. His Alpha brain wants to snap back, to curl his lips and bare his fangs right back, to demand his due respect because who dares to size him up and challenge him. But before his instincts go too far, he pummels them back down with a hammer. There’s no other Alpha here, Ignis reminds himself.

Just an Omega prince.

Which, really, isn’t any better. Because Prince Noctis is staring right at him, unflinching and unblinking, his hands waiting neatly in his lap. There’s nothing to read from his expression, as blank and indifferent as it looks; but besides the weight he fills the room with, there is something ominous in his unrelenting watch.

Either Ignis spends too much time grasping at his thoughts or the Prince doesn’t like him just dawdling at the doorway, but whichever it is, it’s enough to get him to speak. “Sit down, don’t just stand there.”

It’s as good as an order as any, but there’s no bite to his tone where Ignis expected one.

He sits across from him, and tries his best at normalcy. “Prince Noctis, thank you for the invitation.”

“It’s the least I could do, especially after yesterday. Like dad said, we lost track of time.”

Prince Noctis finally drops his eyes to survey the dishes spread on the table, much to Ignis’ relief. The tension dissipates as soon as he picks up a fork to push his food around, neatly separating his eggs from the edge of a french toast.

Ignis takes that as his cue to follow, and he cuts his knife through an eggs benedict. They both take their first bites in silence, nothing but quiet chewing and soft clinks of silverware and glass, but he’ll take it over the smothering and suffocating pressure from earlier. (What even is that anyway? Did he somehow manage to piss off His Highness already? Gods.)

Yet he’s the first one to break the silence.. “This sauce is delightful. I wonder if I could weasel the recipe out of the chefs.”

“Oh, so you cook?”

Ignis expected a bored hum of acknowledgment or anything less than even that, so he’s pleasantly surprised to hear the interest in Prince Noctis’ voice. He glances up and sees His Highness looking right at him, and for a brief moment, he expects that same soul-piercing weight to drill right through. This time, there’s nothing but genuine curiosity — no bite or guarded edge accompanying. He also notices the air in the room has gotten lighter.

Huh.

Ignis wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth, so he takes the opportunity for what it is and tries to keep this new flow going. “Yes, though I’m particularly fond of baking.”

“You bake?”

If the Prince looked curious before, he now looks almost impressed. There’s the smallest semblance of a smile peeking out, the corner of his mouth tilting ever so slightly upward, maybe out of amusement. Or out of incredulity. Ignis doesn’t know.

“Yes. It may seem odd. An Alpha who enjoys domestic things like baking. I enjoy learning new recipes, the satisfaction of trying a new dish, the smell of spices and sweets and whatnot. Quite relaxing.”

Certainly, there are Alphas who make for culinary geniuses, who have their five-star restaurants or television shows. The top dogs of fine cuisine. But an Alpha who likes to dawdle in the kitchen as a simple hobby? Ignis has been teased for it more times than he could count, even his mother and father poking lighthearted jabs at him whenever they found him nestled in front of the stove. He almost expects the same from the Prince, but his reaction so far has Ignis hoping otherwise.

“Funny,” Noctis says, this time revealing a full and warm smile. His eyes crinkle at its corners, and Ignis wants to believe it’s from a genuine smile and not from some practiced sincerity. “I’m not that great in the kitchen. Can make some decent eggs and pancakes, throw store bought cookies in the oven if I’m feeling it. Just not really into it.”

“One can’t be a master of everything, Your Highness. You seem to have picked up gardening, however?”

“Gardening? Not at all, that’s dad’s shtick. I was just helping.”

“Oh.”

“I like to get more down and dirty.”

Ignis almost chokes on his eggs, but as quickly as he catches himself, he doesn’t escape the amused tilt of the Prince’s brow. His Highness doesn’t say anything more on that topic, but Ignis knows it’ll surely come up again. He isn’t sure whether to take it as it is or as an innuendo; he’s not even sure which one he’d prefer it to be.

“And just call me Noctis, by the way.”

Turns out, Noctis’ words are more literal than Ignis would ever imagine them to be because the next day, he’s fetched for again and guided outside to the training fields. He sees Prince Noctis standing in the middle, facing a uniformed Glaive.

Ignis can’t help but look on in sheer terror as Noctis flies across the training yard and skids his back against the dirt and gravel. But he hops right back up like a champion, sparing just a second to spit out blood and dust onto the hard ground, and brandishes his training sword before chucking it at the Glaive. He fizzles out of reality the second his sword leaves his hands, and Ignis thinks he can see the ghostly blue trail after the blade. When Ignis blinks, he sees Noctis popping back into existence, pressing his sword against his opponent’s kukris in a showdown of strength.

There’s a short stare-off, each of them grounding their feet into the dirt and shoving their weapons into one another, pushing the limit to see who breaks their stance first. Ignis watches with bated breath, hands clenching the arms of his plastic lawn chair, and he leans forward in his seat in suspense.

His Majesty, flanked by Clarus Amicitia and Cor Leonis, quietly sips on his mimosa and looks far more peachy than a father watching his Omega son brawl against a deadly Alpha should look. The Immortal and Shield don’t even bat an eye, simply trading swigs from a dark beer they pass off to each other.

“Money’s on junior,” Cor says, handing the now half-empty bottle to Clarus.

“O-ho, someone changed their tune from last week.”

“What can I say? His Highness kicked that Luche fellow to the bleachers.”

“Fair enough. Guess I’ll bet on Ulric.”

King Regis clears his throat, and looks every ounce of a proud father watching his boy beat the ever living shit out of a soldier. “I’ll pretend I don’t hear you two making bets over my dear son.”

“Oh, please, don’t act like you didn’t rake in some pocket money over that training session.” Clarus lightly clinks his beer against King Regis' drink, appraising him with an upward quirk of his brow.

His Majesty retaliates by snatching the bottle out of his Shield's hand and downing the rest of it in one go. Cor Leonis huffs out a laugh while Clarus Amicitia huffs out a grumble.

But Ignis Scientia only feels faint.

And, well, shamefully turned on. He isn’t sure how to process that. Bearing witness to an Omega who could actually kick his ass and make him eat dirt should terrify him. His whole life, he believed Noctis to be some frail prince made of spun glass — beautiful and delicate, showcased through rare snapshots and surrounded with all manners of security.

He and the entire world grew up on the idea of a sweet and quiet boy, but watching Noctis narrowly avoid a boot to his face and counter with a lance to Ulric’s ass — where did that lance even come from? — it’s safe to say they were all fed damn lies.

Noctis rips through the very fabric of space, tearing its seams and bursting them into bright blue ashes, looking all so alive like the flames burning in him. Or maybe that’s the actual fire spreading across the ground when he lobbed that glowing magic sphere.

“Cheater!” Nyx yells, hopping away from the dying fire spell. “No magic!”

“Screw the rules, I’m royalty!”

Noctis laughs, vibrant and full, and he chases after the man in bursts of blue and white. He’s dirty and battered, covered in sweat and scratches, and no doubt he’ll have more than just a few bruises to show for; but Ignis thinks he looks radiant, here in the open air and in tattered clothes no prince should be caught wearing.

Ignis isn’t sure what it is, but something clicks and the pieces quietly fall together as he watches the dance of steel and magic race across the field. He imagines all the suitors before him, bearing gifts of flowers and perfumes to lay at Noctis’ feet. They treat him delicately, just how society tells them how Omegas out to be handled, and try to carry him like a priceless Faberge egg — dressed in jewels and gold so soft he’d scratch at the lightest touch. They talk of nothing but drab things, perhaps politics and alliances if they’re bold enough, and domestic things a coddled prince might like. Tame hobbies and crafts, sewing or golf and the like.

And he imagines Noctis looking absolutely bored out of his mind, listening to haughty Alphas speaking of their accomplishments and trophies and useless promises that are ultimately empty in the end. As a test or maybe out of his own amusement, Noctis brings them out just like this, to shock or awe, to show he’ll have none of their cooing nonsense. And the results? Ignis can think of a few. The “Alpha” Alpha, horrified and angered at the lack of modicum, refuses to marry an Omega who does not know his place. The “White Knight” Alpha who jumps to his poor Prince’s rescue, demands to fight in his stead and protect him from all harm (only to have his own rear handed to him). And of course, all the confused ones who have no idea what to make of the situation and decide to just leave.

Ignis doesn’t realize the spar is over until the Kingsglaive Captain blows his whistle, and the sharp shrill and the hoots of onlookers pulls his mind back to the field. Noctis has Nyx Ulric pinned to the dirt, straddling his chest and holding a kukri to the man’s neck. Ignis thinks he’s won, until he sees the Glaive holding the broken blade of a sword at Noctis’ heart as well.

Titus Drautos announces a tie, and they both drop their weapons as a result. Noctis rolls off and onto his back, chest heaving as he desperately sucks in air, and splays his arms out on either side of him. A hand hits Ulric in the face as he stretches out, but the man doesn’t complain and only has the strength to focus on his own breathing as well. Off on the side, Ignis sees trainees and guards pass coin around, having made bets of their own, the disgruntled losers paying their toll to the triumphant winners.

When Noctis lolls his head over to look at King Regis, he flashes a tired but satisfied grin. Ignis isn’t sure what sort of expression His Majesty makes — he’s sure it’s of approval judging by the warm chuckle he hears — since his eyes are glued to just how radiant the battered Prince looks. Noctis looks utterly at home and in comfort, covered in dirt and sweat and bruises. Ignis has only seen tabloid snapshots that depict him as some melancholy little boy, scared of the world and quiet in his loneliness.

Noctis looks far more lovely like this, he thinks, looking exhausted but alive and happy. Ignis gives him a weak thumbs up when he looks his way, and he ignores the extra little thump of his heart when he hears Noctis laugh for the first time.

“The Kingsglaive is made up of all Alphas.”

It comes out of the blue, when they sit for some tea in the outer garden. They had been talking of Altissia — Ignis of his summer vacation spent with his nose in their recipe books and mouth on a tasting spoon, Noctis of his diplomatic trip with his father to discuss new trade routes with the madame secretary — when he washes down a sweet biscuit with a sip of black tea to suddenly utter the fact.

Ignis never gave it any thought, but it certainly makes sense to him. Alphas, the “stronger” gender, the protectors and hunters since the days of old. Perhaps some Betas could make it within their ranks, but having an all-Alpha unit isn’t beyond reason. He humors Noctis and takes the bait. “And you are sharing this with me because…?”

“Guess why.”

“Alphas are the warriors, the fighters. Or so goes the rules.”

“Or so goes the rules.”

“Well, you’ve proven that some of these rules can be broken. And I like to believe you aren’t the sole anomaly in the entirety of Eos.”

Only two weeks since he’s started his courting, and he’s learned more about Noctis than he ever thought possible. The Prince is… eccentric, to put it. He’s something of an innocent brat, childish in that he’ll push and prod at his dinner vegetables but responsible where it counts. More than once he’s sought out Ignis for some excuse in favor of running away from papers and documents in want of his reading and signature, but he’ll promptly excuse himself to resume his duties once he finds his time is up.

His cooking skills are rather poor, as he’s once stated himself, and if left on his own, Ignis thinks his diet would end up disastrous. During a midnight hour, he once found Noctis sitting on the floor of a kitchen scooping peanut butter directly out of the jar and onto some tortilla chips like a little gremlin child. Yet his one saving grace is his skills with fish; he has his own set of recipes Ignis has never tried before. Recipes he quickly jotted down when Noctis invited him to a private lake, where he rolled up his pants and dipped his feet into the water, casting his fishing line off the low pier.

One would think a posh prince would rather be caught dead than wade through the murky waters of an old lake to pull out a three-foot fish, flapping and splashing and with slimy scales. Or that he’d rather read and write in his air-conditioned study instead of joining the royal guards and glaives in their training regiments, preferring to keep his manicured hands soft and clean instead of calloused and bruised.

Ignis knows he must have said something right, and he keeps his self-preening to the minimum when Noctis grins. It’s slow like the rising beat of drums leading up to a grand reveal, and he certainly gets a prize when the smile parts for a bark of that laughter again. He wonders if the twenty-four suitors before him ever got the chance to hear it.

“You,” Noctis says, lifting his cup in a toast to Ignis, “know how to flatter, don’t you? Playing all your cards right.”

Ignis wants to interject and explain his words weren’t as planned as Noctis thinks them to be; he only said what was in his mind, not stringing words together to garner any favor. But before he has the chance, Noctis steers the conversation away as do people of his rank do, eloquently enough that Ignis forgets what they had been talking about in the first place.

It’s when he gets ready for bed, staring in the bathroom mirror as he brushes his teeth, that he realizes Noctis never really answered his question. He’ll breach that topic come the morning, should he remember to, but sleep comes easy and far too quickly before he can pin the idea to the corkboard of his mind.

He wakes bright and early, and it turns out he doesn't need to remember. Noctis waits for him at the Citadel steps, leaning against the driver side of the famous Star of Lucis, an absolute gorgeous work of art and taking after its name, and he looks up from his phone to flag down Ignis.

"What's the occasion?" Ignis asks, strapping his seat belt in.

"Gonna show you something interesting."

That "something" turns out to be somewhere in the Kingsglaive headquarters. Ignis' nose twitches at the heavy scent in the air, the unmistakable cologne of Alpha that permeates through every wall and floor of the grand building. Noctis, though, seems perfectly at home and saunters on through, occasionally slowing to wave or pass a word or two to some friendly Glaives. A few even stop to say hello to Ignis, and he greets them in turn.

"Do you feel that?" Noctis asks, guiding them down a corridor.

And Ignis does. The closer they get, the more it speeds towards him like a train barreling down the track to run him over. It’s oppressive, heavy and hostile but tragic above all; he can almost taste the anguish in the air.

It’s the pheromones of a full-blown Alpha’s rut. Not just one Alpha but at least a dozen he realizes as Noctis pushes open the double doors of the medical bay.

Sirens go off in his head, fearing for the Omega’s safety among a pack of Alphas, and he jerks his eyes over to Noctis only to see him wear a face of utter determination and eyes of sympathy. Ignis keeps his mouth shut and his hands to himself, fighting the urge to grab Noctis and run out of there, as he reminds himself just who this young prince is and what he’s capable of. He’s seen Noctis train and fight against the Kingsglaive themselves, and Noctis carries himself with such confidence and faith that Ignis chooses to believe in him as well.

“The Kingsglaive are all Alphas,” Noctis says, and Ignis remembers their talk from yesterday, “because they get the worst of it.”

At the sound of his voice, all eyes hone in on Noctis. Ignis expects that voracious, insatiable hunger to overtake them; but while there is hunger, it is a hunger for comfort, like that of a child frightened by a nightmare seeking the safety of its parents. There are whispers, soft pleas of woe and heartbreak, that even chip away at Ignis’ own heart.

Noctis sits by the closest bed, where a man covered in sweat curls in on himself, fists clenching and unclenching the rough sheets. “It’s okay, I’m here. You’re okay, you’re safe. ”

And as Noctis coos and holds the Glaive’s hand, a thumb softly stroking over his fingers, Ignis feels the air shift and turn, the stormy weight of the Alphas dispersing like morning mist. A different scent overtakes the entire stretch of the bay — if not the entire floor of headquarters — and even Ignis falls prey to the lulling warmth that covers him, akin to an anxiety blanket hugging itself around his shoulders. He feels… protected, strangely enough. It takes him a moment too long to discover this scent is undeniably Noctis’.

Ignis breaks himself out of the trance and blinks himself awake, and he catches the glance Noctis takes at him. Maybe it’s the fluorescent lights and the haze of pheromones, but he almost looks glowing. Literally.

“A lot of them are still traumatised, seeing their friends and family killed and their homes overrun. And the hormones just make the nightmares all the more real to them, and they’re forced to relive those memories again. It’s shitty, but we can at least help them through it.”

Noctis explains, in a quiet voice as to not disturb the Glaives, how the ruts and hormones make for not only a violent mix but a tragic one. How they work as triggers, unearthing their darkest memories and forcing them to suffer through the pain of death and loss. How King Regis, founder of the force known as the Kingsglaive, discovered the side-effects of acting as a conduit and sharing the royal family’s magic with this small army. How both father and son could serve their soldiers in turn for their loyalty and sacrifices.

“We protect them just as much as they protect us. It’s a king’s duty to look after his people, even soldiers — especially soldiers.”

It’s an hour later, Noctis driving them back to the Citadel and in the privacy of the car, when he explains why he breached the subject and the reason for the field trip. He looks almost forlorn, not for himself but for the Glaives suffering through their inner demons.

“Dad shares his powers with the Kingsglaive, every single one of them. We’re not really sure about the details, but through some weird Crystal magic voodoo, he sort of has this… ‘pseudo’ bond with them.” He waves a hand in the air, making some wishy-washy gesture but makes sure to keep his other hand steady on the wheel. Even if the unmistakable Star belongs to one Prince, royalty must obey traffic laws. “It’s not really an Omega-Alpha bond, but some of it’s the same. That’s how he’s able to keep them from diving too far into their ruts or bring them out of their dark spaces. And sometimes when it gets too much, I can come in.”

But it’s when he reaches a red traffic light that he wrinkles his nose in contempt, making a face as if he just downed a too bitter cough syrup. “A couple suitors didn’t like that idea, of the king sharing this link with all of them. I’ll be king someday and take on that responsibility, but I guess they wanted me to be one hundred percent exclusive or something.”

“I think it’s admirable.” Ignis didn’t really mean to say it aloud, not until he saw Noctis’ sour expression and decided he deserved to hear it. He didn’t even think he himself deserved to see all that had happened, to witness how almost intimate the picture Noctis and the Glaives painted. The suitors before him must all be fools then, to think about selfish desires toward a softhearted (yet strongwilled) Prince on the cusp of adulthood.

“Do you? Thanks, Ignis, really.”

Ignis says nothing about the sliver of vulnerability in that tone and merely hums in acknowledgment. He wonders, during their quiet drive back, if his initial theory was wrong. If the reason for so many suitors turned and rejected wasn’t actually because of the Prince after all, but because the twenty-four before him couldn’t see past what society has fed them and the conventionalization of an Omega prince.

‘Idiots, ’ he thinks to himself, ‘and I thought myself blind with how strong my glasses must be.’

“For the love of the gods, would you kindly please stop doing that?”

“Doing what?”

“You know very well what I mean. That pressure you regard me with, akin to an Alpha challenging for his territory. As if you’ll eat me alive before you even bother to skin me first! Do you know what that does to my instincts? How they scream at me to retaliate and brawl? I am practically battling myself for my own control, and it is an uphill battle I assure you.”

Noctis only offers a grin, infuriatingly wide and amused.

All Ignis had been doing was admiring the royal library, particularly their impressive collection of classic literature, minding his own business and perusing the back cover of an anthology, when Noctis came strolling in. He arrived near silently, save for the footsteps that made a beeline toward Ignis with such precision, as if the towering bookshelves may as well be invisible.

It would have been fine, except for that suffocating aura Noctis sent out, filling the air with the presence of a hunter searching for its target. The target being Ignis, of course.

“So you finally mentioned it. I was wondering when you’d finally say something.” Noctis tilts his head, looking the picture of innocence when he's actually guilty of everything.

Ignis shuts the book with such force that it resounds off the library walls, and he shoves it back into its proper space on the shelf. He plucks his glasses off and pinches the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment as he sucks in a deep breath then slowly exhales; when he opens his eyes, he sees Noctis still sporting his shit-eating grin.

“Are you satisfied now? To know you’ve riled me up so,” Ignis sighs, putting his glasses back on. “Honestly, I don’t know what to make of it. Have I done something to earn your ire? Do you abhor the idea of courtship so much you’d like to scare me off instead? I may not have the finest qualifications to try for your hand, but I daresay my company hasn’t been all that unpleasant —”

“Woah, woah. Slow down there, Ignis.” Noctis lifts his hands in a gesture of appeasement, though the little laugh in his voice almost makes Ignis think otherwise. “Sorry to say this, but I was genuinely wondering how’d you react. All my suitors kept getting paranoid, wondering if my Shield was hiding around the corner and secretly threatening them, or maybe I really wasn’t an Omega after all. Some of them got really snappy, almost violent. But you pretty much rolled with it until now. I’m surprised you lasted this long.”

A test, then. Noctis posed him with a test, and Ignis must have failed with his reaction. He’s already thinking of the things he’ll need to pack and how he’ll get his laundry the morning maids took the liberty of washing, but above all he can’t help but feel the disappointment rising in his chest. He rather liked Noctis’ company and all the quirks and habits that comes with him, each a new little fun surprise to learn and appreciate.

“But anyway, I think you’re plenty qualified, so don’t knock yourself out just yet, silly.” Then, Noctis places a hand on his arm. If his words didn’t pull Ignis back, then that touch certainly does. His eyes are warm, no sign of dismissal or frown of disapproval to betray his consolation.

“I… Pardon?” Ignis silently curses the way his voice goes just a bit weak.

“I said I like having you around.”

“Oh.”

Well, crisis averted, he supposes. But it’s only after another laugh when an attendant fetches Noctis at the King’s request and leaves, that Ignis realizes the weight of the Prince’s words: he liked having Ignis around.

Ignis learns a lot during his one month stay. He feels like it’s all sacred knowledge to be kept within the Citadel vaults, yet a revelation the entirety of Eos should have the decency of knowing.

Noctis isn’t a fragile Omega waiting for his dashing Alpha to sweep him off his feet, to promise him loyalty and devotion and a lifetime of protection. Because one, Noctis already has all that. He has the love and allegiance of his friends, the cooing and awwing of an entire kingdom, and a special military force that will risk life and limb to keep him and his father safe. And two, Ignis is sure Noctis can make any Alpha tuck their tail in between their legs and run for the hills; he's an absolute war machine even without the kingdom's special forces.

Ignis clicks the locks of his suitcase and sighs, looking dejected at the band around his finger. He’ll have to return it, now that his month-long trial is over and both King and Prince have said nothing of further courting. He honestly enjoyed his time at the Citadel, learning and even laughing with the Prince and discovering some of the quirks that make him unique. At the very least, Noctis has given him a new perspective to regard Omegas with. Broaden his horizons, even.

He isn’t bitter, but he’ll miss it. Miss what exactly, though, he can’t say. He knows it’s not the luxuries the palace lifestyle affords him, but rather something of Noctis. Perhaps he’ll miss the company, his frame of mind and the way he ticks. Or maybe — just maybe — this particular fondness Ignis has only recently acknowledged. He doesn’t want to say it’s love, but it’s certainly something that could bloom given time and nurture.

Well, better to nip it now before it takes root.

Ignis is on his way to the throne room, to give his respects to the King and thank him for the opportunity, but he halts in his tracks when he sees His Majesty make his way toward him. Noctis trails after him but picks up the pace when he spots Ignis, and his bright smile tugs at Ignis' heart in the most bittersweet way. A shame he won't be able to see it anymore.

"Your Majesty, Your Highness," Ignis greets, lightly bowing to them both. He slips the ring from his middle finger and presents for Noctis to take back, trying to not mind the feeling of absence it leaves behind. "My month is over, but I am greatly honored and humbled for the time I was given. It is my sincerest wish His Highness finds his future consort, and I hope for nothing but happiness to you and your dearest."

King Regis looks… almost confused. He regards the ring as if it's some foreign object and he has no idea what to do with it. But then, he looks over to Noctis and heaves a long-suffering sigh.

"Son," he says, shaking his head, "You were to tell him yesterday."

"I forgot! I mean, I was going to but I got distracted and Prompto came over with the newest Flame Insignia and I've been dying to play it."

King Regis actually rolls his eyes at that, much to Noctis' frustration it appears. But Ignis is too distracted about this thing he was apparently supposed to be told yesterday to really acknowledge that King Regis rolled his eyes.

Noctis, at least, catches on and quickly fumbles to take the ring from Ignis, but he keeps a hold on his hand.

"This month was great, Ignis. This might be a low bar of expectation, but I just needed to be sure you weren't some arrogant asshole. And congratulations! You passed." He says it so naturally, as if he’s passing off some paper certificate and not say, recognition as a possible future consort.

Ignis, suddenly, feels very weak in the knees, and he suspects he's only able to keep standing through Noctis' light hand on his, which is slowly and deliberately turning and searching for Ignis' ring finger. He tries to ground himself, focusing on the warmth of Noctis' hand and the genuine smile that dazzles like stardust, and not on the heavy thud of his own heart beating in his ears.

It's a dream, he foolishly thinks. He's still sleeping and loathing the morning he'll have to prepare for his return home, and sad enough that he conjures a fantastical dream. But everything is too real for this to be a trick of his mind. He sees King Regis standing behind Noctis, every gleam and glint of his polished buttons and chains, and the warmth in his eyes and the smile of a doting father, and Ignis knows he can’t be making that up.

And Noctis, cheeks tinted just a soft dust of pink, lips pulled in a soft and slightly embarrassed smile, looks up at him with such hope in his eyes it almost hurts Ignis. When he finds that ring finger, he carefully slides the ring back on — the same ring that once sat on Ignis’ middle finger and marked him as a candidate. The same ring Ignis, only a moment ago, returned to the Prince because he believed his time was up and the next suitor would arrive shortly.

"You spent a month courting me. Now it's my turn to court you," Noctis says, as if Ignis would ever say no, "So what do you say, Ignis Scientia? Will you accept?"

Yet another loop Ignis is tossed into. Alphas court, not Omegas. But he should have expected as much from Noctis and his family's quaint traditions. He knows there will be more surprises down the road, more breaking of worldviews and making of new ones, but Ignis wouldn't have it any other way.

"But of course."

"Great, how about a fishing date?"

"Only if you guide me through one of your recipes."

He finalizes their terms by bringing Noctis' hand to his lips, lightly ghosting a kiss across his knuckles, and his Prince smiles just a bit wider at it. In the background, he hears King Regis mutter, in fondness, something about finally finding someone after all this time, before walking off and leaving them be.

"Deal."

#ff15 #final fantasy xv #ignoctweek #noctis lucis caelum #ignis scientia #i can type

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hvndcvffed · 5 years

Text

“ let me just –– can you –– uh. ” grizz clears his throat and raises a finger. because this? oh, boy. stomaching this shit without laughing mandates a breather. “ hold that thought for a moment while i collect myself. s’been quite the day and i want to give you my undivided attention. ”

or, alternatively : yo yo yo, party people ! guess who finally made it ? i’m lev / linc ( she/her/hers ) , comin’ atchu from the ever so lovely est timezone with ya boy, the tru ledge, grizz visser! click on that read more to read some headcanons i’ve got goin’ for west ham’s resident handcuff-owning, intellectual beb !

[ g r i z z v i s s e r –– B O Y O N F I R E .

✔ ┊❝ ( nick robinson. 18. he/him &. cismale ) rumor around town is that gareth “grizz” visser was on one of the buses that left for the field trip. they’re the eighteen year old that resides in new ham. over the summer news spread that he purposely botched his chances to win a football scholarship to a local uni because he applied to several ivies behind his parents’ backs, but who knows if that’s true or not? what we do know is that their friends describe them as well-read & piquant, but who knows when they’re known to be elusive & misanthropé from time to time.

( &&. general information )

full name: gareth visser

nickname(s) or alias: grizz

preferred name: grizz –– call him gareth and he will... not be happy.

current age: eighteen

astrological sign: leo

gender: cismale

preferred pronouns: he/him

sexual preference: homosexual ( but closeted )

romantic preference: demiromantic

home environment: a quaint three-bed / two-bath house with his parents. a positive, almost sickeningly sweet home: family portraits all over the place, cheesy “ home is where the heart is ” décor all around from his mother’s many trips to pier 1 imports.

current occupation: student, student athlete.

language(s) spoken: english, french, a tad of latin. wants to learn more hebrew, but that shit is complicated as heck.

native language: english.

current relationship status: single.

( &&. background )

reason behind name: y’know, he’s asked his parents this countless times. why gareth? why. gareth. and each time he’s just gotten the same vague response: they liked it. it sounded respectable. ack.

birth order: only child.

ethnicity: american. west ham born & raised, baby!

nationality: american.

religion: agnostic. goes to church with his mother as a way to keep the peace, but... the idea of a god out there saying homosexuality’s a sin gives him a bad taste in his mouth. he’d rather discount his whole existence and uphold morality than accept that there’s a bigoted big guy in the sky. sees the bible more as a literary exercise to instill human value. did jesus really walk on water? heck no. but it makes a good fable.

political views: very, very liberal. doesn’t subscribe to labels, but as close to democratic socialist as you can get in this country without causing riots. anti-brexit. anti-trump. anti-bullshit, basically. maybe socialism or communism done right wouldn’t be a terrible idea.

financial status: very, very comfortable. his parents earn well and know how to save / spend frugally. the vissers are modest in living so they can pour more into experience. for grizz’s twelfth birthday, his parents took him hiking through the adirondacks. they’ve gone on some awesome trips together, and most of their vacations include some aspect of super cool nature. unbeknownst to grizz, his parents’ planned grad gift for him was a month-long backpacking tour through new zealand.

hometown: west ham, connecticut. cool beans.

level of education: high school senior. but he’s one of the learned folk: ap literature on lock. he took some college courses at the local community college last summer, because his job as a summer camp counselor wasn’t exactly intellectually stimulating. leading kids on hikes is fun ‘n all, but... not as engaging as college-level philosophy.

( &&. physical appearance )

looks like (or face claim, if applicable): nick robinson. with longer hair. reference [ here ] .

height: 6′0 ( jack’s shorter, but nick’s my main fc i’m workin’ with so i decide to bump it up. plus, height? football? makes sense. )

weight: 158 lbs

shoe size: 10.5

figure/build: athletic build. muscular. broad shoulders, lean waist.

hair colour: deep, deep brown. almost black. natural.

hair length: about jaw-length. curly. ( REFERENCE. )

eye colour: brown with an overlay of hazel-y jade-green. his campers over the summer compared his eyes to moss a lot. it kinda felt badass. “moss boss” had a ring to it.

glasses?: nope. 20/20 vision. but he’s been known to steal friends’ glasses sometimes, just for funsies.

skin tone: light, but not necessarily pale – spends a lot of time outdoors. no freckles.

tattoos: none, yet. would love to get a quote from walden. or a pine tree, if it wasn’t so cliche.

piercings: none. but getting an ear pierced has always intrigued him.

birthmarks/scars/distinguishing marks: some miscellaneous scars on his hands from whittling incidents growing up. a faint line across his arm from stitches, when he broke it in the peewee football league in fifth grade.

dominant hand: left-handed, but very recently learned he’s marginally ambidextrous for important tasks.

if painted, what color are their nails?: never painted. he keeps them short.

usual style of clothing: letterman jacket. jeans. tall socks, boots. pants tucked into socks, because why the hell not? flannels, hoodies, utility jackets layered over plain white tees. pendant necklaces, leather bracelets. occasionally he’ll wear a statement button-downs that looks like your grandmother’s upholstery, but somehow it’ll work really well. varsity t-shirts. hats of all varieties. if he could, he’d showcase some edgier styles. but he’s paranoid. he’s got a stanford hoodie buried in his closet. and a yale one, too.

frequently worn jewelry: leather bracelets. a silver ring strung on a chain, engraved with “ for sylvie, with love ”. he found it on a hike, and... figured he’d be sylvie for a day, or something.

describe their voice, what accent?: he has a light, gentle voice. a soft autumn breeze. laced with some gravel. strong, resolute. kind.

what is their speaking style (fast, monotone, loquacious)?: often speaks slowly, surely. not always keen to fill silences. but words are some of his favorite devices of deflection. if he’s unsure, he’ll cut himself off, leading to some choppy and hard to follow sentences. he very rarely mumbles. not afraid to speak eloquently, but will certainly match his speaking style to those he’s around, to an extent. rarely seems bothered. he masks it well.

describe their scent: amber, sandalwood, musk. vague hints of cinnamon.

describe their posture: grizz holds himself proudly. shoulders broad, chin up, chest open. it makes his vulnerable moments very easy to spot.

( &&. legal information )

any speeding tickets?: nope. this kid drives by the book. probably because he very much prefers to walk or bike around town, when he can help it.

have they ever been arrested?: never. he’s only been to the police station once, to drop off some promotional donuts for the homecoming football game.

do they have a criminal record?: nah.

have they committed any violent crimes?: no sir.

property crimes?: no.

traffic crimes?: nope! unless you count accidentally cutting cars off with his bike, because that’s happened a handful of times, when he’s been deep in thought.

other crimes?: just breaking hearts.

( &&. medical information )

blood type: o negative.

date/time of birth: july 26, 1997. 3:23am. during a rainstorm.

place of birth: west ham hospital.

vaginal birth or cesauren section?: vaginal birth.

sex: male

smoker? / drinker? / drug user?: no / yes / marijuana.

addictions: does good lit count?

allergies: sulfur-based antibiotics. bullshit.

ever broken a bone?: his left arm in fifth grade. right foot at the seventh grade dance –– the girl he asked to slow dance tripped and grizz, wanting to show off his cool socks, wound up with a stiletto heel to the talus. ouch. collar bone, freshman year of high school: he climbed a tree to save his neighbor’s cat and slipped.

any physical ailments/illnesses/disabilities: nope.

any medication regularly taken: allergy meds. sometimes he gets the sniffles.

( &&. personality )

direct quote from them: UNO. DOS. TRES. QUATRO.

positive traits: charismatic, cunning, introspective, virtuosic.

negative traits: cataclysmic, self-destructive, reckless, careless.

likes: classic literature, trail mix, synth vibes, 60s/70s/80s rock, the beatles, radiohead, faith by george michael. old vinyls. bob ross. vanilla-cinnamon candles and jasmine tea. wind-rustled leaves. fresh fallen rain.

dislikes: bitter coffee. the disappointment just after sunrise. katy perry. cleaning, laundry. the warmer side of the pillow. waking up without a hand to hold. gareth. secrets, but he harbors a few big ones. pretending. hiding. transitively, himself.

strengths: can be quite resolute but sometimes about the wrong things. his ability to analyze and respond to complex literature is… uncanny. intelligence. deduction. survival facts. he’s a postmodern bear grylls trapped in suburbia.

weaknesses: impatience. do-it-yourself attitude. fear of rejection. fear of acceptance. fear of others. fear of himself.

insecurities: what if people in west ham discover who he really is? how’s he supposed to postpone that?

fears/phobias: irrelevancy. book-burning. ignorance. time.

habits: playing with his fingers. biting his bottom lip and twisting it between his teeth. humming when he thinks no one is listening. going for late-night walks through the emptiest parts of town. staying up ‘til 4am to read and re-read and read again.

quirks: rarely settles his gaze on anything for more than a few seconds, except for other peoples’ eyes. eye contact is probably one of grizz’s biggest conversational strengths. probably why he makes such a good liar, when he needs to. he’ll finish a pint of ice cream and just sit there for over an hour sucking on the spoon, lost in thought. licks his lips when he’s nervous. plays with his hair a lot. you know he’s nervous when he keeps tucking his hair behind his right ear. chuckles to himself, even when things are the pure opposite of funny.

hobbies: jotting notes in book margins. he dabbles in poetry but feels like his shit is too beat-generation to be that cool. wandering through the woods and attempting to generate his own maps, then checking them for accuracy. lighting matches in the cold, mid-evening air just to watch them burn.

guilty pleasure: peanut m&ms. twizzlers. burned marshmallows. apartment tour videos on youtube.

desires: to prove he’s… sometime more than this. something more than a footballer destined to pretend.

wishes: he could come clean about college. wishes he could come clean about himself. wishes he could work up the courage to ask a guy to prom.

secrets: he purposefully botched an interview he had with central connecticut state university’s football recruiter because he doesn’t want to play in college. he wants to go to yale, or stanford, or brown. to study literature. classics. philosophy. his sexuality. but it’s getting harder and harder to keep that locked down.

turn ons: intelligence. genuine, pure intelligence. sharp-witted humor. dimples. dorky laughs. gentle touch. someone who doesn’t bother with worries ‘bout tomorrow.

turn offs: idiocy. khakis. people with too much pride. line cutters. naggers. people who don’t think the proper way to eat bugles is by fashioning crisp-claws first and pretending to be edward scissorhands. people who overlook adrienne rich’s poetry, or claim dante shouldn’t be taught in school.

lucky number: 0.

pet peeves: hearing people scratch their scalps. sniffly public transit users. people who don’t use earbuds. cold fries. nail-clickers. knuckle-crackers. people who slurp from straws like they’ve never had a drink before in their lives.

their motto: “ i’m surrounded by idiots. ”

( &&. favourites )

food: curly fries with cajun seasoning.

drink: half-oreo half-chocolate milkshake. extra whipped cream. two cherries. please.

fast food restaurant: he’s not huge on fast food, but he can fuck with five guys.

flavour: anything chocolate and peanut.

word: fuck !!! or zephyr: a soft, gentle breeze.

colour: a nice, deep forest green.

clothing: his letterman jacket. his deep green flannel’s a close second.

accessory: “ for sylvie, with love” . silver ring. he likes pretending he’s sylvie and that someone cared enough to get his name etched into a precious metal forever.

candle scent: the connecticut homesick candle. it smells like cinnamon and nutmeg and vanilla and fireside bliss. and pine trees. yum.

game: monopoly. but only if he wins.

animal: fish. they’re so graceful.

holiday: halloween. boo.

weather: sunset, just after rain. golden rays peering through deep gray clouds. it makes the greens of trees practically scream against the sky. it’s glorious. it’s heartbreaking. grizz loves it.

season: late fall.

book: le petit prince by antoine de saint-exupéry. it was the last book his grandmother ever read to him, on his fifth christmas eve.

artist: edvard munch. or van gogh, simply because he chopped his ear off and mailed it to his lover. now that’s modern romance.

band/group: the divine comedy, radiohead, pink floyd, the beatles, the rolling stones, the kooks. the avett brothers. belle & sebastian.

song: high and dry, radiohead. elephant, tame impala. anything by the beatles.

movie/film: mr. nobody. eternal sunshine of the spotless mind. the first time little grizz saw alice in wonderland, he wouldn’t shut up about it for two weeks.

tv show: he grew up watching wallace and gromit. he’s still got a soft spot for it.

sport: football.

possession: his dad’s collection of beatles original release vinyls.

number: 0.

person: henry david thoreau.

( &&. skills )

talents: writing, but he won’t admit it. football. wood-whittling. gardening. navigation.

ability to drive a car?: yes.

can they ride a bike?: yes, and will frequently do so with no hands.

do they play any sports?: football.

anything they’re bad at?: juggling. sleeping. pretending to like gross food.

do they have any combat training? why?: grizz once yahoo answered how to punch somebody to the moon, after one of his best friends got made fun of in grade school for accidentally wearing a costume the day before halloween. he’s still waiting for an answer to that post.

( &&. firsts )

childhood memory: waging what was left of his fruit gummies during a game of fireside poker on the first visser camping trip.

crush: matty kerrington, pre-k. his hair smelled like strawberries and his smile reminded grizz of the hot honey that clung to his mum’s spoon after stirring tea. but to this day, he’ll say his first crush was amanda vander-voss, because her hair was pretty in braids and she reminded him of the pretty deer from bambi.

email address: [email protected]

job: camp counselor at a hiking / adventure camp based in west ham.

phone: a nifty samsung with a slide-out keyboard. made him feel like a god.

kiss: jessica winthrop, in a game of third grade truth or dare.

love: tess de luca ( @tessdl )

sexual experience: with jessica winthrop in the woods behind the middle school, three years later. jess got poison ivy in all the wrong places. grizz thought it was hysterical.

( &&. childhood )

best childhood memory?: honestly? wearing that boa in dance class. his mom was quick to stop that.

worst childhood memory?: nearly breaking his nose on the neighbor’s front porch, while attempting to ding-dong ditch with his friends. he’s not sure what gave them away more –– his blood staining their pavement, or the fact that he blubbered the whole run home.

what were they like as a child?: grizz tended to poke his nose into all the wrong matters, landing him in oodles of trouble. he’d steal from the snack cabinet, sketch constellations across the walls… even stole his dad’s old walkman so he could listen to music under his covers past his bedtime. tried to sneak into the library after hours to get his hands on another thoreau novel. but it was all harmless. the vissers weren’t very firm disciplinarians: they just loved that their son was engaged and passionate about knowledge.

any crushes growing up?: oh, loads. more than he’d like to admit.

( &&. this or that )

expensive or inexpensive tastes?: inexpensive, but lasting.

hygienic or unhygienic?: hygenic.

open-minded or close-minded?: open.

introvert or extrovert?: ambivert. thrives in social settings but the mood has to be right.

optimistic or pessimistic?: pessimistic with a weak optimistic veil. pragmatism, is how he’d put it.

daredevil or cautious?: cautious daredevil.

logical or emotional?: a blend of both, but emotions often influence his actions more than he’d like to say.

generous or stingy?: generous.

polite or rude?: polite when it’s socially mandated. but if there’s no threat of repercussions? a bit rude, if he has to be.

book smart or street smart?: both.

popular or loner?: popular, by proxy. but grizz vibes with some solid solitude, especially to recharge.

leader or follower?: leader. follower, though, in the high school structure of things. it’s a way to ensure his place and avoid potential fallout. he’ll call his friends out if they’re up to no good, though.

day or night person?: night. definitely night.

cat or dog person?: both! prefers cats just a smidge more.

closet door open or closed while sleeping?: open. maybe his demons wanna cuddle or some shit.

( &&. social media )

do they have a facebook? twitter? instagram? vine? snapchat? tinder/grindr? tumblr? youtube? yes to instagram and (begrudgingly) snapchat.

if so; name on facebook: none.

instagram user: grizzvisser

snapchat user: grizzybear

( &&. musical tastes )

theme song: kimochi warui ( when? when? when? ), car seat headrest. god... get him OUT of this town.

makes them sad: blackbird, the beatles. his grandparents used to sing this when he’d sleep over/ they’d be in the kitchen early in the morning trying to convince him to eat his cereal. they’d change the lyrics and snap slightly off-tempo, all smiles and coaxing gestures. ave maria. he’s not sure why. it inspires melancholia.

makes them dance: hazy miss daisy, kid bloom. anything with a sick beat and erratic synth. take on me, a-ha. good times bad times, led zeppelin.

loves the most: fool of myself, the band camino. it’s a song he can throw his head back to, close his eyes, and sway in the breeze.

( &&. miscellaneous )

do they have a fake i.d.?: yep, used to, but now that’s not necessary!

are they a virgin?: nope siree!

describe their signature: it’s unapologetic on the page. takes up more room than it should with lateral squiggles and grandiose swirls. G and V are decipherable, but everything else is convoluted by its own physics. a muddled mess. beautiful in its self-collapsing structure.

how long would they survive in a zombie apocalypse?: he’d outlive everyone. survivalist visser, right here.

do they travel?: yes, but he wants to do more, see more. the grand canyon would be cool. or maybe the alps. he’s always had a dream of hiking yosemite.

one place they would like to live: anywhere but here.

one place they would like to visit: new zealand. australia. hawaii.

celebrity crush: young johnny depp. emma watson.

what can you find in their pockets/wallet/purse: tic tacs, but never the mint ones. only the odd flavors.

place(s) your character can always be found: anywhere with trees. rooftops. alleyways. the football field. coffee shops. the local diner. roadside sunflower fields. his parents’ garden.

when does your character like to wake up?: with the sun.

what’s your character’s morning routine?: blink at the ceiling for about 20 minutes. wash his face, brush his teeth. annotate a few lines of whatever book he’s reading. push-ups, pull-ups, crunches. run a mile or two. rush into the shower. grab his lunch from the fridge and bike to school (and barely make it).

what does your character eat for breakfast/lunch/dinner?: grizz’s mom loves to cook, so they’re always trying some new paleo trend. some of it’s awful. but he’ll try to eat it and if he can’t, he’ll sneak a granola bar later. if the school’s serving smiley face fries, he’ll have those. he really likes green apples and those little clementines.

how does your character spend their free days?: hiking. reading. writing. lying in the sun and just... thinking. lately, he’s been daydreaming a lot about an ivy league education. something more engaging than west ham’s high school snoozefest.

what’s your character’s bedtime routine?: some kind of pre-bed stretching routine. wash his face, brush his teeth, curl up in bed with a book. fall asleep with it still open on his chest.

what does your character wear to bed?: boxers and a t-shirt.

if your character can’t fall asleep, what are they thinking about?: the past. mistakes. time ticking away.

what is their idea of perfect happiness?: he’s still workin’ on that bit.

on what occasions do they lie?: very rarely, if he can help it.

most marked characteristic: his hair. it’s all russet waves. untamed. some days, his hair truly has a mind of its own. it screams free spirit. it doesn’t let on that, inside, his soul is burning.

what is one thing they’d most like to change about themselves?: honestly? it’s not so much what he’d want to change about himself as it is about this town.

how would they like to die?: well-read.

do they snore? not unless he’s got a head cold. then there may be a few soft snores here and there.

can they curl their tongue?: yes!

can they whistle?: yes indeed!

do they believe in the supernatural?: not really. but it’s fun to indulge on halloween. did he move your cup, or did the ghouls?! s p o o k y .

has anyone ever broken their heart?: no. haven’t had the opportunity to.

have they ever broken anyone’s heart?: yes. little marsha lapone’s, at summer camp. she was 8, he’s 18. he told her there was no chance, and she cried into her pb&j. tough.

are they squeamish?: no.

have they ever seen anyone die? what happened?: just in films.

are they a lightweight?: heck no.

that was a very lengthy thing but... yeah! hit me up for plots! i’m gonna get to crafting and replying to starters v shortly!

#newhamhq:intro #ᴛʀʏɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴀᴄᴄᴇᴘᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴀɴ ɪ ᴀᴍ ! ɪꜱᴍꜱ.

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levelstory-old · 5 years

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Top 5 E3 Announcements

The Electronic Entertainment Expo, more commonly known as E3, is a yearly event that showcases what is up and coming in the video gaming industry. Gamers across the world get hyped and this year packed a huge punch.

To be honest, I never pay close attention to E3 because most showcases tend to look very samey (i.e. watch the Bethesda showcase). I'm not all that interested in the "dark and gritty" genre of games and so I usually hang back and let twitter fill me in on the hype. I didn't expect much.

Sure I expected to get excited by some things, but I was caught off guard by the several moments that blew me away, surprised me, and even made me tear up a bit! Here is my top 5 list, 1 ranking as least exciting (even though least exciting is still really freaking exciting) to 5 ranking as the most exciting (the G.O.A.T. of E3).

Number 1: Ni No Kuni Coming to Switch, Remaster Coming to PC & PS4

Originally released on the Playstation 3, Ni No Kuni is a game that stands out due to it being animated by the renowned Studio Ghibli. Since I never owned a PS3, I never played the game. After the sequel came out, I had high hopes that the original would port to the PS4 but no such announcement ever came. I was starting to give up. In fact, only days ago I went so far as to look into emulating the game on my PC as I've been dying to play it.

This news has come at a perfect time! The game is releasing on the Switch, PC, and PS4. But there is a catch. The game has been remastered for all systems but the Switch which will be receiving the original port of the game. Now I will have to decide if I want the game on the Switch or PS4. I enjoy playing games more on the Switch but also want the remastered version. Decisions decisions.

Number 2: Yooka-Laylee and the Impossible Lair

I still have yet to finish the original Yooka-Laylee game (read about my experience with the game thus far in the first issue of Level Story) but now it seems I have reason to be excited to play it some more. The announcement of the sequel to the highly successful modern platformer came as quite a surprise to me. While a sequel has certainly been on my radar, I didn't quite expect one so soon.

What really excites me about this sequel is how it appears to capture the spirit of the first game while also moving in a completely new platforming direction in the side scroller. Several commenters wrote that the game looked similar to DKC Tropical Freeze and that is a pretty nice complement. Waking up to this news was just a treat.

Number 3: Banjo-Kazooie in SMASH

Okay, confession time. I don't like the SMASH games. I've never gotten into them and haven't had the desire to change that. Seeing all the hype for the recent Switch release got me excited in a very removed sense. Watching other people get excited about the game (and about Joker from Persona 5 being in the game) made me excited even though I knew there was very little that would persuade me to shell out my money for this title.

Throughout this time, rumors were strewn about twitter saying that Banjo and Kazooie might be announced as the next characters in SMASH. Banjo-Kazooie is a game I grew up playing all the time and I have a strong connection to it. While I had no connection to SMASH, I had a strange desire to see the bear and bird get their dues since they haven't really had much luck since being bought by Microsoft.

Their announcement brought tears to my eyes. Perhaps nostalgia had taken over, or maybe it was the fans joyful reactions that made me emotional, but I finally have a reason to pick up this game. Whether that will actually happen or not is still to be decided. But after watching that trailer, how can you not be hyped for this?!

Number 4: Final Fantasy VII

Final Fantasy VII is one of those celebrated games that I hear about all the time yet somehow I am so separated from it that I only know that it is considered a good game and literally nothing else. I didn't have Playstation growing up and never had an interest in Final Fantasy games so just never played it.

But since my love for the Kingdom Hearts series has pushed me to enter the realm of Final Fantasy and since I am just generally interested in stories told in games and FFVII is said to have an amazing story, I have decided to put a bit more stock in FFVII. I have just started to play the ported game on my Switch and have watched closely for updates about the remake.

And turns out, this new interest has paid off because wow does this game look really good. Square Enix really stole the show when they premiered the full length trailer at E3. Everything looks so polished and beautiful. While I imagine there will be changes from the original, I still think this game looks amazing and I look forward to real time action gameplay vs. the original turn based combat.

Number 5: The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild Sequel

Okay...let me set this up for you. I did not grow up playing Zelda. My cousin gave me a hand-me-down copy of Ocarina of Time and I just didn't play it all too often (yes, I regret my adolescent decisions). Breath of the Wild is technically my first Zelda game and it is hard to put into words how much I love it. I've put in over 150 hours of play time and when I finally beat the final boss this past Sunday, I was happy but also sad that the game had come to an end.

My biggest wish was to explore Hyrule some more post beating Ganon (when you beat the game, a star appears on your file and you are placed at the point right before beating Ganon). Then, a few days later, this sequel was announced. This is the GOAT for me. I am on the Breath of the Wild hype train. There is no release date for the game yet which kind of gets me down but I am too excited for this game to care! This was easily the best announcement at E3.

And I can't finish this article without an honorable mention….

Kingdom Hearts 3 DLC

Kingdom Hearts is my all time favorite franchise. Despite its existence in the absurd and the blatant examples of bad storytelling, I always find myself coming back to these games and having a blast with them. It is a series I will stick with through and through.

DLC for Kingdom Hearts 3 has been on the horizon ever since the game was released back in January of this year. Fans of the franchise know the "vanilla" KH games are only the starting point. Almost every title has come out with a re-release known as "final mix" where new content is added including cut scenes, gameplay scenarios, additional mechanics, and more. Back in the early 2000's, final mix was a pretty unique concept. Today, final mix is just DLC. Yes, I know, KH was ahead of its time.

The new trailer showcasing what is to come in the new paid DLC has got me very excited. It looks like we will get to play as new characters, have new keyblades, and there will be a ton of convoluted plot dump that only KH can bring.

While this would have been a highlight for me, I thought Square Enix gave zero hype to this. The trailer was originally shown at the KH Orchestra concert in LA and director Tetsuya Nomura told the audience not to film it or there would be dire consequences. Someone filmed it and now the conspiracy is that this person made Nomura angry. While I don't think this person should have filmed the trailer, I also think it is kind of sick that Nomura can put out a threat like that and KH fans tweet out, "you upset Nomura. Thanks a lot."

Speculation went about saying that Square might have been planning a longer trailer at E3. Whether this was correct and Nomura pulled it due to his "dire consequences", or the E3 and Orchestra trailer were the same all along, we will never know. Either way, the trailer was exciting to see the first time but didn't do much to get me really excited like the 5 announcements I talked about in this piece.

What Did You Think?

So what did you think about E3? What were some of the highlights and your favorite announcements? Let me know in the comments!

#Kingdom Hearts 3 #Kingdom Hearts III #The Legend of Zelda #Zelda #Breath of the Wild #Ni No Kuni #Banjo-Kazooie #Final Fantasy #Final Fantasy VII #Yooka-Laylee #Yooka-Laylee and the Impossible Lair

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hxseok-honee · 6 years

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brighter than heaven, darker than hell drabble | the first death

masterlist

a/n: oh god this isn’t even the whole backstory, im still writing the collection of their most memorable moments s m f h, but this shit was lengthy and also the most important bc this was their transition from human to demon - anyway i hope yall like it! and yes the date was intentional thanks

_______________________________________________

October 31st, 1904

“Miss Y/l/n, if you could please refrain from sneaking out during lessons to visit the boys’ classrooms, that would be lovely. No boy is going to consider you a suitable lady if you keep doing these things.” Y/n smiled politely at her teacher, allowing herself to imagine that she had actually smashed his head into his desk instead.

“With all due respect, sir, I didn’t just sneak off. That scum Jeon Jungkook was spreading rumors about me, so I was simply dealing with the situation.” She caught the glimmer of disdain that ran through his eyes, wondering for a moment if she was that bad at hiding her hatred for other people.

“People spread rumors for a reason, Miss Y/l/n. Maybe you should take your seat and look inward to find the faults that lead to these rumors.” Rage boiled inside her, reaching levels that even she was unaware were possible. Her feet moved forward of their own accord, bringing her closer to the teacher as her hands curled into fists. She must have looked truly wild in that moment, considering the shock that passed over the man’s face. Luckily, he was spared when she caught the sound of the bell chiming softly outside the schoolhouse.

Taking just a second to regain control and shaking off her unexpected lack of it today, Y/n turned on her heel, pushing past the other girls in her class to grab her bag and exit the room angrily. She could hear them whispering as she marched out of the building, following her as she headed in the direction of her home. The only good thing about the soft voices was the way they intensified when he was around. She was always ready for him, never surprised by his presence.

Noticing the way they just now intensified, she turned without hesitation and was met with the sight of him heading her way, frustration clear on his face. He stopped mere inches from her face, bending slightly to meet her equally annoyed gaze.

“I don’t know who you think you are, but if you ever come into my classroom like a little whore begging for attention and humiliate me in front of my peers again, I will actually consider killing you.” Sick of the endless threats and games they had been playing for almost fifteen years now, Y/n stepped up to him without blinking.

“You want to kill me, Jeon? Then kill me.” It wasn’t the fact that he wasn’t fazed by her challenge that surprised her. It was the way a wave of excitement passed through his eyes. She recognized that excitement- it was the same thrill she felt when she was about to do something that no one would approve of. It was followed by an equally familiar blank stare, completely devoid of emotion. He stepped away from her slightly, glancing over his shoulder at the crowd that was forming before looking back into her eyes.

“You’ll get what’s coming to you.”

She was waiting for him when he arrived that night, dressed all in black and approaching her home swiftly. There was a blunt object in his hand, and she couldn’t help but expose her location with the condescending laugh that escaped her. She waited until his eyes found hers to speak, stepping out from the shadows to point at the item in his hand.

“Did you plan on killing me with that? A bit messy, don’t you think?” He stayed silent, waiting for her to continue. “As much as I’d love to have actually been surprised by you for once in my life, I can’t have you coming into my home like that. I might hate my parents, but they have always cared for me, and to die in their space is just disrespectful in my opinion.” She had turned her head to the side by that point, giving him the opening he needed to finally act on the years of rage and hatred that had built up. Discarding the weapon entirely, he had his fingers wrapped around her throat as soon as she was within arms reach.

Shoving her violently back into the tree behind her, he held her there, hands squeezing tighter and tighter the more he felt her breath leaving her. A shiver of joy passed through his spine as he realized he had complete control over her life in that moment. He almost lost himself in it. The only thing keeping him from moving forward was the faint thought in the back of his mind, wondering why she hadn’t fought back yet.

No, she was just smiling at him, smiling as she faded from existence. It was honestly unsettling, just as she knew it would be. She knew he would hesitate at some point- he wasn’t strong enough to follow through unless he snapped completely. She knew she had her moment when his eyes left hers for less than half a second, flickering down to watch his hands, a single moment of doubt passing through him.

Taking advantage of the microsecond granted to her, she brought her knee up and shoved it harshly into his abdomen. When his fingers left her throat as he bent over with a cough, she grabbed hold of his hair and, stepping away from her home and further into the forest behind her, she used nothing but her weight to throw him forward and down the hill in front of them. Following closely behind, she straddled him as he lay crumpled on the ground, bringing her fists down heavily on his face while he tried to fight back.

It was in that moment that they realized simultaneously that neither of them would be making it through this night. She wasn’t going to stop with a simple beating, and he wasn’t just going to let her beat him to death. They both realized it at the same time and, without even pausing to think twice, they accepted their fates.

Bringing her hands down on Jungkook even harder than before, she was hardly fazed when he managed to break through her attack and grab hold of her head firmly. Anchoring himself to her, he brought his own head up to slam it into her face, smiling slightly when blood started flowing from her nose and onto his clothes. Grabbing the front of his jacket, Y/n threw her body to the side, effectively sending them rolling down another hill and further into the forest. The sound of rushing water hit her ears as they came to a stop and she tried to reorient herself from all the spinning. Jungkook used that time to glance up and search for the river that was clearly close by. Locating it in the dark, he pushed her off him and rose to his feet, threading his fingers through the ends of her long hair and yanking her behind him as he made his way to the water.

Laughing when she started screaming at the agony of being dragged through the dirt by her hair, he stopped when he reached the water. Taking a second to note that it was much deeper than he had expected, he was unprepared for the way Y/n reached up and dragged her nails down the length of his arm, carving bloody scratches into the skin there. With a cry of pain and anger, he fell to his knees beside her, giving her a chance to tackle him, sending them both into the river without a second thought.

Now under the cover of both the darkness of the night and the muddiness of the water, they were forced to rely on nothing but instinct to finish what they had started. Neither of them was trying to even survive at this point- they were both just too stubborn to die first. It turns out it wouldn’t matter in the end anyway. Neither of them realized that the river ended just over 5 miles away from where they had fallen in. They both would actually manage to survive for those 5 miles, but they certainly wouldn’t survive being simultaneously thrown off a cliff that met shallow water and jagged rocks at the bottom. It was in that moment that they succumbed to the black holes of violence and hatred that had resided in them since birth, fighting and dying together for the first time in what would be many years to come.

#bts texts #bts au #bts smau #bts social media au #bts supernatural au #bts drabble #kim taehyung #taehyung texts #taehyung x reader #jeon jungkook #jungkook x reader

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genaleah · 5 years

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Dreadful Character Profiles

NAME: Dr. Dreadful / Lino Rodriguez Eadful

SIDEKICK: S.P.A.R.K, Scientific Personal Assistant & Robotic Kiddo

CLASS: Mad Scientist / Gadgeteer + Potionmaster

THREAT: Low-Level Mass Mayhem

ARCH: Captain Iconic

INFO: What he lacks in villainous quality, he makes up for in sheer tenacity. His plans tend more toward destructive accidents than actual successes, but he will try to turn any situation in his favor. He adores his job. He's hoping to get his threat score back up soon.

(MORE BELOW THE CUT)

NAME: Captain Iconic / Belladonna Pickett

CLASS: Guardian / Gifted + IFO

STRENGTH: High-Level Protector of the City

ARCH: Dr. Dreadful

INFO: Living proof that rock sometimes beats paper. Her brute-force brawn will overpower any brainy villainy thats thrown her way. She’s a protector of the people and a stalwart guardian against evil. She always has the best intentions, but her efforts are sometimes ham-fisted and misguided. Her legs are underdeveloped from floating all the time.

NAME: Benjamin Vasquez

CLASS: Civilian Student

THREAT: Hooligan Punk

INFO: Sent away by his mother for being too much of a hassle, Dreadful’s nephew has been tagging along to watch villainy at work. Some city folk believe he may be the secret identity behind the new unnamed & unregistered vigilante in town. But that’s just a rumor!

NAME: Magic 8 / Brendan O’Brian

CLASS: Hero-in-Training / Gifted

STRENGTH: Low-Level Sidekick

ARCH: N/A

INFO: A 7-year old boy under Iconic’s tutelage. He has the ability to tell the truth regarding almost any yes-or-no question. While its not the most practical power for battle, his family is hoping he’ll be real Child-Hero material soon. He just wants to keep going to elementary school.

NAME: Inferno Mortis / “Mort”

SIDEKICK: Legions of the Undead

CLASS: Legend / Necromancer + Monster

THREAT: High-Level Mass Mayhem

ARCH: “Starstruck”

INFO: Mortis has existed long before you, and he will be here long after you’re gone. In fact, he may even summon you to work for him once you are. His public image has softened a little since he started wearing skin over the lower half of his face. Most people don’t know that he did this to accommodate Dreadful’s debilitating fear of skeletons.

NAMES: “Starstruck”, Jackie Culver & Jamie Foster

CLASS: Child Heroes / Musicians + Gifted

STRENGTH: Mid-Level Smalltown Heroes

INFO: Middle-schoolers that have been gifted by the heavens with reality-bending powers that are cast via their music. This is a fairly common kind of power, though it has never been split between two individuals like this. They strengthen each other’s abilities by playing together. They are still too young to be full-time heroes, so they juggle occasional heroism with their schoolwork and personal lives.

NAME: Disaster Man / Herbert Watkins

CLASS: Unnatural Disaster / Cursed

THREAT: Mid-Level Mass Mayhem

ARCH: Heavenly Dawn

INFO: A living magnet for bad luck, Herb is... just trying his best. He can't control his destructive powers very well, and they often have a tendency to backfire on him. He wouldn't be a supervillain at all if not for his circumstances, but being one means he gets health insurance and a regular paycheck just for existing. He's a nice guy when you get to know him, but prolonged exposure is dangerous.

NAME: Heavenly Dawn / Aimi Sasaki

CLASS: Magical Girl / Gifted + IFO

STRENGTH: Mid-Level Protector of the City

ARCH: Disaster Man

INFO: A former Child-Hero from Japan, Heavenly Dawn is one of the more experienced and level-headed superheros in Cityburg. He arching relationship is different than most of her coworkers because she knows that Herb can't control the chaos he leaves in his wake. Her magical fan can make things to grow or shrink in size, and is a very useful tool in minimizing his destruction.

She's also dating Captain Iconic.

NAMES: The Sterling Sisters / Samiya (Red Widow) and Samantha (Weaver). Both use Sam as a nickname.

CLASS: Costumers / Cursed + Gifted

STRENGTH/THREAT: High-Level Arch Rivalry

ARCHES: Each other

INFO: A pair of psychic siblings who have been unwillingly mirroring each other for their entire lives. They share the same telekinetic powers and talents for fashion design, but they are in a constant state of trying to one-up or differentiate each other. Their personalities are largely different, Samiya is a bit more laid-back and jovial compared to Samantha's sterner disposition and dry wit. But every time they accidentally make the same outfit, or speak in sync, tensions can boil over.

Bonus:

NAME: Dr. Lino Rodriguez Eadful

CLASS: Civilian Scientist

THREAT: High-Level Mass Mayhem

INFO: Wanted for unlawful human experimentation conducted on his colleagues and possibly himself. Full capabilities unknown. Excellent possible candidate for mad scientist position.

#Dreadful #Character References #original characters #Dr. Dreadful #Captain Iconic #Starstruck #Some of these characters might be familiar to people that've been following me forever #but most of them got a huge overhaul

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fatrainbowmermaidunicorn · 6 years

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Stay ( Jungkook x You ONESHOT)

Thankyou for this request anon! Sorry it took forever to get it done, and sorry its long (10k). But I hope you enjoy it <3 And requests are still open eventhough Im a bit slow these days. Sorry about that!

A/N: So I am currently writing a lot of stories based on cheating and it got me wondering, at what level should someone who cheats be forgiven? And at what level they shouldnt be? What are your thoughts on this? Should you forgive your partner who is cheating on you? Does the reason that leads them to cheat matter? Share with me your thoughts!

MASTERLIST

"I guess all those rumors were true," was all Y/N could managed to say while her eyes locked on Jungkook's brown ones. The eyes that used to look at her with love and adoration, now is filled with sympathy, and maybe, just maybe, a little guilt.

Rumors regarding Jungkook and another uprising girl group member has been going around for months, and being the doting girlfriend that she is, Y/N decides to trust Jungkook when he told her those were all rumors, a normal occurance for an idol like him, whenever she asks him about it. They have been together for almost six years, trusting him is just something she is so used to, and that's exactly what she did, without even a doubt in her mind.

But now...

Y/N went over to his dressing room during one of his music show although its not something that she usually do since no one other than the members and only some of the makeup artists and stylist knew about her existance as Jungkook's girlfriend. Its been six years but Jungkook still insisted to keep their relationship a secret, saying its for the sake of his career and his fans, but now she finally know the real reason why.

Jungkook left his wallet and phone that day, and after calling Jimin to asks their whereabouts, he told her that Jungkook always goes early to the venue whenever they have a show, and she should go straight there to see him. Went there she did, only to find her beloved boyfriend being straddled by the same rumored girl idol, skirt hitched up to her waist, her clothing scattered all over the floor, leaving her topless and panting on an equally shirtless Jungkook whose mouth is busy kissing her bare chest.

What's worse than seeing this is the fact that Jungkook calmly picks up her blouse that is on the floor to help her cover up, while she still stays on his lap, not even a slight remorse or guilt can be seen on his face.

"Hey babe, can you leave us alone for a while?" He turned to the girl who smile at him as she puts on her bloise and nodded. She leaned in to give him a peck on the lips, making Y/N closes her eyes as she feels her heart break into tinier pieces. The girl smirked at her as she passes by.

Jungkook sighed as he bends to pick up his own shirt and start buttoning up.

"I'm sorry you have to find out this way. Its not my intention,"

Y/N is speechless. How can the man who she had loved for the whole six years, and who she thought loves her back, be this cold and emotionless.

"I wanted to tell you soon. I just couldnt find the right time for it. But now you know," he stood up and look straight into her teary eyes. Y/N has lost all strength to yelled at him, or hit him or to just do anything. Jungkook doesnt seem to regret any of it, so whats the point for her to try scream and shout over it?

But still, there's something her broken heart needs to know.

"W-why? What did I do to make you stop loving me?"

Jungkook sighed and ran his hand through his hair before his eyes flickered back to her.

"Its nothing really. I just fall out of love," he said simply. Y/N's shoulders shakes as she tries her best to muffle her sobs when she hears his confession. Its been six long years, yes, but her love for him just gets stronger through every obstacle that they faced. She didnt think he would think the opposite. "Everything has becomes a routine for us. I want something new Y/N. I want adventures and fun. You... you just dont interest me anymore," his last sentence ends up in a whisper as the last effort to not hurt her.

Y/N cant stop her tears from flowing freely down her face anymore. She nodded weakly at Jungkook's emotionless face. She didnt know what to say. She didnt know what she should say.

"I'm sorry for thinking my love for you is enough," she whispered between choked sobs. "I love you Jungkook," Jungkook just stayed quiet as he looks at he hurt etched across the fcae of the woman he had loved for so long. "Just... just give me two days to clear up my things from the apartment... and... and I will be gone from your life,"

"Okay," he nodded before lowering his gaze. He thought he is going to be okay with this but it still hurts him to see Y/N cry. "I will give you the space you need and stay over at the dorm,"

Y/N looked over her shoulders one more time to the face that she loves and hate at the same time before exiting the now cold room. "Be happy Jungkook,"

/////

With non stop tears running down her face, Y/N threw her things inside the cardboard boxes that littered the whole apartment. It kills her to packed up every little memory she had build with Jungkook. Every single thing in the apartment reminds her of him, happy memories with him kept on replaying in her mind. The TV that she has turned on to keep her mind distracted while she packs start to play an entertainment news, and with her rotten luck, it showed a picture of Jungkook with the same girl from yesterday, now known as Yurin, finally announcing that they are officially dating.

Y/N felt her heart stops. It havent even been a day since she found out and Jungkook has already made a move. Six years their relationship was kept in the dark, always telling her he is not allowed to date and it people found out it would hurt his career. Six years of allowing herself to be fooled, always thinking and putting him first. Six years together, she had done everything with him and for him to just throw it all away... Y/N collapsed on the floor, hugging her knees to her chest as she buried her face and cry.

You can do this Y/N. You can be strong. You can let go.

After being curled up in a ball for almost an hour, she finally stood up with new determination and start to throw away every memory she had with him, picture frames, polaroids, tshirts, plushies, gifts from him, everything, into a pile as she packed up her things in a faster pace.

No more. No more Jeon Jungkook.

/////

Y/N smile as she look around the almost empty apartment. With her things gone, it looks almost unoccupied since Jungkook kept most of his things at the dorm. The movers has already brought down all her packed items and Y/N look around one last time, a small smile graced her face, along with a single tear that she quickly wiped away as she remembers for one last time the memory when she first moved in here with Jungkook. How happy they were back then.

Its over now. He has somebody new to make memories with. He dont love you anymore Y/N. Its over.

Its time for a new beginning. Y/N whispered to herself as she looks down at her flight ticket and the acceptance letter that she almost rejected at first because of Jungkook.

A new beginning without Jeon Jungkook.

/////

Jungkook lay down on his bed, tossing his phone around, something feels unsettled in his chest, when it dings, indicating a text from Yurin just came in.

"Another party Yurin? Really?" Jungkook sighed. Yurin is an uprising idol who is labelled as the IT party girl. For the weeks he had cheated with her behind Y/N's back, Jungkook felt alive. Going out to new restaurants, clubs and attending exclusive parties with a beautiful girl on his arms, but he's sick of it now.

Yurin loves showing whatever she does to the public. Its only been a day since they went public and she already showed millions of intimate moments of their relationship to the world. Private selfies, voice clips that Jungkook sang to her at nights, cute videos of their dates, everything. Jungkook knows his life as an idol was never going to be kept private anyway, but cant he just have a private moment with his girlfriend? Just cuddling and talking all night until the sun rises without it being posted on social media the next day?

Yes, Yurin is something fresh. Something new. Adventures and fun. But he didnt want that. He didnt want parties every weekends. He didnt want new suits and dresses everyday, just to attend another snobbish event. He didnt want rough nights together between the sheets but ended up sleeping with their backs facing each other. Those wasnt adventures.

Adventures are hiking up the hill at 4 am just to watch the sunrise together. Cooking home made meals that they never tried before together instead of dressing up and eating at these fine dining places that doesnt even taste good. Wasting his free day watching back to back superhero marathons, cuddled up in blankets, limbs tangling with each other. Passionate nights together that leads to pillowtalk, exploring their dreams and fears with one another. Dancing and singing to old pop songs while trying to clean the apartment but ended up only making it messier. Running around in the rain instead of waiting it out, only to be sick the next day. Sneaking out together to some run down diner in the middle of the night, meeting up with his hyungs, eating multiple burgers and ice cream, laughing the night away, only to work extra hard the next day to burn it all off.

Jungkook blinked as he realizes, those are the things he miss.

Those are things he used to do with Y/N.

He said he wanted new things. He wanted adventures. Something fun. That is what he said to Y/N when she asks him why. That is what he thought he wanted in Yurin. But Jungkook never realized that Y/N is everything he had ever wanted. She is the combination of familiarity and new memories. She is new experiences and familiar warmth.

Y/N is his home.

"What the fuck am I doing? What the fuck did I do to Y/N?!" Jungkook yelled to himself, surprising Jimin who passed by his room. "I need to go. I need to talk to her before its too late!" He grabbed his jacket and ran out, leaving a puzzled Jimin who didnt get a chance to ask him anything.

With panting breath Jungkook slammed the door opened only to be greeted with a cold and empty apartment. It doesnt smell like home. It doesnt feel like home. Not anymore. He stood in the middle of the empty apartment, realizing he's too late and Y/N is no longer here.

Jungkook noticed every single thing that is different. How the coffee table is no longer littered with her books, how there are no more fresh flowers in the vase beside the window, empty walls that's used to be filled with pictures of them, the smell of home cooked food that usually fills the air the moment he open the door, her favorite cartoon character cups in the kitchen shelf, the magnets that littered the fridge which she always bought when they went travelling together... everything is gone. And Jungkook has never felt more lonely.

He didnt know where else to go, so he ran to the only place he could think off; her office. The receptionist was shocked when she recognized who he is, but he doesnt care. If Y/N takes him back, he will tell everybody that will listen that they are together. That he loves her. That he's never going to let her go ever again.

"L/N Y/N. I need to see her," Jungkook asks still panting. The still shocked receptionist scrolled on her computer and after a few seconds, she looks up at him.

"Im sorry sir. There is no one that works here under that name," Jungkook furrowed his brows. He is pretty sure this is where Y/N works. He himself has dropped her here a few times before.

"Are you sure? This is XXX Enterprise right? Is there another one?" The receptionist shakes her head.

"No. This is the only one,"

"Then she must be here!" Jungkook slammed his clenched fist on the counter, making the receptionist jumped. "I need to see L/N Y/N!"

"But Sir. I.. I-"

"Did you say L/N Y/N?" Their conversation was interrupted by a girl who just came down from the building. Jungkook immediately rushed to her.

"Yes. Do you know her? Can you take me to see her?"

"I do know her but... I'm sorry. Y/N doesnt work here anymore. She quit with a 24 hours notice yesterday. I heard she moved somewhere out of the country," the girl explained, giving him a sad smile before walking away. Jungkook felt his knees wobbled as he hold on to the wall. It cant be true. It just cant be.What has he done? Did he really make her ran out of the country?

Where did you go baby? Please come back to me. Please stay. Please.

Jungkook walked out from the building, steps unpurposeful and defeated and unknowingly his feet brought him back to their shared apartment.

He was about to slumped himself on the sofa and just drowned in self pity when his eyes caught a box in the corner of the room. He walked over and saw its a box filled with their memories together

Did Y/N forget to bring this with her? Or did she intended to throw it out but forgot?

Jungkook sit cross legged in front of the box and start to take out the things inside. He automatically smile as his hand touched the first item. His white tshirt. Y/N loves to sleep in those. She says its comfortable and it smells like him, it helps her sleep better on the nights when he is away on tour. He sniffed the shirt and her scent start to filled his nose. He inhale and close his eyes as he starts to feel an ache inside his heart. He continues to rummaged through and found plushies he had won her on their first date from the claw machine, picture frames of them, the bracelet he bought her on their first anniversary. Every inch of their memory, Y/N has discarded and left it behind. The thought hurts him so much he feels suffocated.

The last item that is shoved to the bottom of the box is a scrap book that Y/N made for their six years anniversary. Its filled with pictures and momentos dated back from their very first date to their last one, which is almost months ago, making Jungkook realized how long he has been neglecting her. And yet, she had never once complained.

He flipped through the pages and saw pictures of him and his group winning awards, photos of their performances. Events that he never allow Y/N to attend under the false pretense that he is not allowed to date. Y/N never asks why, never once argued or demand anything from their relationship. Quietly watching her own boyfriend from behind a screen instead of being there with him celebrating.

Jungkook sighed and placed the scrap book down. Y/N never questioned any of his move. She trusts him and he broke that trust. For six years, all she wanted was for him to be happy. She's always there when Jungkook is stressed out over work, releasing his anger on her instead, but she always takes it with a smile. She's there when he's sick, always attending to him, making sure he and his group mates have enough to eat, bringing them lunchboxes during practice. Its not a question that his hyungs adores her. She's always considerate, understanding and consistantly asking what Jungkook needs and want.Even on the verge of breaking up, she didnt make a scene, agreeing quietly, respecting Jungkook's decision to stop loving her.

After six years, Jungkook only now realized he had never once asks her how she's doing. If school and work is hard on her, if she has a problem, if she's sick. Never once has he told her that she's already a perfect girlfruend for him and he loves her just for who she is. Jungkook starts to shake as his body try to hold in the hurt and tears he's feeling. The memory of her starts to haunt every inch of him, making him collapsed to the floor.

Where are you Y/N? Please come back to me. I need to tell you Im sorry. I need to tell you I love you. Come back. Please come back. Jungkook whispered repeatedly as he finally fall asleep with the shirt that still smell like her clutch tightly in his grasp.

/////

Jungkook immediately went to see Yurin the next day, explaning that their whole relationship is a mistake, consumed with lust and not love. He had expected her wrath but to his surprised, she was calm and agreed to his request to break up. Her only request is to wait a month before officially announcing it as it would damage her image if the news came out only a day after going public.

Months passed by and the two of them still maintained a great friendship, hanging out and still contacting one another. If only Y/N is back in his arms, then everything would be perfect.

"Good job everyone, see you tomorrow!" The cheographer clapped his hands, indicating the end of their practice for the day. Jungkook slide himself down on the floor and take out his phone as he gulped down from his water bottle. He scrolled through the pictures of him and Y/N and smile to himself.

"What's up with you? Do you have like a secret girlfriemd or something?" Jin elbowed him as he slide down beside him and take a swift of water. Jungkook just smile at his hyung. Without anybody's knowledge, Jungkook tried to find her everyday since she left, texting and calling her number, but never once received a reply. But it gives him hope when no one ever text him back saying he got the wrong number or the number is no longer in used. He is sure its still Y/N's and she is just ignoring him.

"Seriously, are you keeping something from us?" Jimin pouts.

He looked up at Jimin, almost opening his mouth and stop when he remembers that nobody knows the truth except for Taehyung. Jungkook came back to an empty dorm the next day with tears still evident on his face, only to be found by Taehyung who is actually sleeping and decided to stay home. Emotionally hurt and unstable, Jungkook let out everything to his hyung and makes Taehyung promise to never tell anyone about it.

"I-"

"Okay guys. Go shower. We have a meeting about the new variety show in 30," Namjoon announced making the boys groaned.

Freshly showered, the seven boys dragged their tired feet to the meeting room which is already filled with the production team and their own management team. Seating himself in the corner, Jungkook slumped down on his chair, tired. He dont really participate in these meetings anyways so maybe he can just dozed off. Namjoon and Jin can always fill him up later. After a while his manager clapped his hands.

"Okay. Its settled then. Take a look around guys, these are the faces you are going to be working with for the next one year or so," he told the room and everyone start to smile and busy themselves to look around, making themselves familiar with their new colleagues. Jungkook straighten up and scanned around the room too before his eyes fall on a girl seated way back on the opposite side, her hair and cap pulled low to cover her face. Jungkook continues to stare as there's just something familiar about her, but it seems she's trying hard to avoid looking at him or his hyungs.

Maybe she's a fan and she's starstruck?

To his luck, someone went over to greet her, and having no other choice, the girl raised her head to smile and greet the person back, revealing her face, making Jungkook's heart beat faster and eyes turned wide.

"Wait...Y/N?"

/////

Ahhh shit. Why do my first project has to involved Bangtan? Why does life hate me so much?

Y/N cursed herself as she walked alongside her team into the meeting room. After a year of studying abroad in broadcasting and production, she finally came back and was immediately hired by one of the big company in the field. Impressed by her skill, she was immediately assigned to her first project, which is an ongoing variety show which will take up to a year or more. Y/N is excited until she read the project paper and realized with who she will be working with.

Very soon after her departure, she starts to receive daily calls and texts from Jungkook. Texts that says he miss her and he loves her, asking for forgiveness. She ignored each and every one of it. Her heart almost gives in at first, but when she remembers the image of Jungkook and Yurin, the memory of how he told her he dont love her anymore, her heart starts to harden again. She still remembers the lain and its never going away.

Y/N thought she was doing well in hiding herself. None of the boys seems to recognized her. Until the manager asks them to look around and she saw Jungkook's curious eyes keeps on staring at her. She pulled her cap low, hoping she can make it until the meeting ends. She almost made it when one of the senior calls out to her and she has no other choice but to look up, and that's when she heard it.

"Wait...Y/N?"

Y/N ignores it. Hoping Jungkook would think he got the wrong person if she just stayed quiet. But the relentless boy stood up and walked closer, giving her no other place to hide.

"Y/N? Y/N, its really you!" You take a deep breath and turned to face him. It would be weird if you didnt since Jungkook is calling your name in the middle of a crowded meeting room. Still, you thank god the room is noisy with people greeting each other so no one is really focusing on the two of you. You turned, only to be faced with Jungkook smiling wide at you, bunny teeth showing and all, the smile so wide it stretch across his face. He took a step closer and reached out for your hand but you flinched away.

"Im not dreaming am I?" He asks more to himself rather than to you. "Y/N... its you. It really is you..." his voice coming out almost a whisper, she can see his eyes glisten. You look around, hoping something will save you from this awkward situation.

"He... hello, Jungkook-ssi,"

Jungkook's brows furrowed, confused. "Y/N. Its me. Why are you-"

"Okay, that's it for today! We shall meet again on the first day of recording. Thankyou everyone!" Someone said above the noise and everybody start to exit the room, Y/N being the first to grabbed her things and ran, leaving Jungkook standing there alone.

"Hey Kook. You okay?" Taehyung patted his back, confused by the maknae's weird behavior.

"She's back hyung. Y/N's back," he whispered, eyes still locked on the door.

"What?"

"Y/N is back. And I'm going to make her mine again,"

/////

"Okay, so let me get this straight," Namjoon huffed. "You cheated on Y/N with Yurin. Then she found out, and then you say all these nasty things to her. Y/N moved to another country before your stupid ass can figured out that you actually love her and made a mistake. And again your stupid ass have been pining on her since then, and now a year later she's back as a part of the production team and you want her back?"

Jungkook nodded eagerly, disregarding all the insults thrown at him. Namjoon give the back of his head a hard smack.

"Owh hyung!"

"You deserve it you idiot!" Namjoon snarled. "How can you do that?"

"Yes. You do. You do deserve it. In fact, give him another smack Joon," Jin said as he continue to eat his food from the takeout box. All seven of them are now gathered around the living room, eating their takeout after the meeting when Jungkook, after being coaxed by Taehyung, decides to tell everything to his hyungs. Its better if they know anyway. Namjoon land another smack on the side of his head as per Jin's request.

"Oww hyung. That really hurts!" Jungkook groaned as he rubbed his head.

"Good. It should hurt. Its nothing compared to the hurt Y/N felt. Why would she loves an idiot like you I will never know," Jungkook lowered his gaze.

"I know I hurt her hyung. But I was stupid," he mumbled. "I'm still stupid. But... I want her back. Please help me. I have waited for a year to see her again. Now she's right here. I will die if I lose her again," Jungkook begged. Yoongi rolled his eyes.

"Oh stop being so dramatic! This happened because of your own stupidity anyway,"

Taehyung chuckle while Jungkook pouts. "I think he really will hyung. I have known about this for almost a year now and he does look like he is dying sometimes," Taehyung backed him up.

"Yoongi hyung is just pissed because he likes Y/N. We all like Y/N. She's great! He is still angry at Kook for breaking up with her," Jimin helps to explain something that everybody already knew.

"Of course I am. She the only one who understand the importance of sleep when you imbecile starts to make ridiculous amount of noise and she feeds me too. Jungkook is an asshole," he growled, making Jungkook ducked his head. Its no secret that Yoongi adores Y/N. She is the only girl he has ever brought to his studio and even share some of his unfinished songs. His hyung adoration towards his girlfriend sometimes ignites his own jealousy. Yoongi is extremely pissed off when Jungkook dumped her for Yurin, but now that he know he actually cheated on her... he's fuming. "I should have just dated her instead," he added, although teasingly, but it makes Jungkook tense up.

"Hyung, no! Y/N is mine!"

"No she's not yours idiot," Jin stood up and gave him another smack in the head. "At least not anymore," Jungkook grumbled as he rubbed his head again as he decides to ignore what Jin said.

"So are you all going to help me?"

"Of course we are! We like Y/N," Hoseok cheerfully answered.

"But Jungkook, remember. We want her to be happy. If she decides she doesnt want to be with you anymore, then promise us that you will let her go," Namjoon warned sternly.

"But hyung..."

"Promise us,".

Jungkook ponders for a while. Letting her go? How can he ever do that? But Namjoon is right. Y/N deserves to be happy and if Jungkook is not what makes her happy, the right thing should be letting her go.

"Okay... I promise,"

/////

"Damn maknae, can you at least pretend that you are interested in the show?" Namjoon hissed at Jungkook, making the latter smile sheepishly and concerntrate to what the PD is explaning about the game they are going to play. How can he focus on some silly game when Y/N is right in front of him? Although she's trying to hide herself between the cameras and crew, Jungkook's eyes followed her like a radar. Its only the first day and he already cant control the urged to grab her and hug her tight. How is he going to make it through the whole year if Y/N decides she doesnt want him back?

"Hey Y/N," Jungkook smile at her, flashing his bunny teeth and turned to the crew she is talking to. "Can you excuse us for a while?" The crew bowed and leave, finally giving him a chance to talk to her alone.

"Hi Y/N," he tries again, still smiling. God, why am I smiling so much? Why do I sound like a love struck teenager? Jungkook scold himself and clear his throat to look cool. Y/N bowed and gave him a small smile.

"Hello Jungkook-ssi," Jungkook's smile dissappeared into a frown at her reply.

"Dont call me that. Dont act like you dont know me," his warm brown eyes looks sad as he stares into hers. "Please..."

"Im not doing anything," Y/N shakes her head. "We are just colleagues now Jungkook-ssi, I think its proper for us to keep our formalities," Jungkook sighed.

"Fine. Then can we be friends?"

"Its too early for that. We just got to know each other again," Y/N smile, making Jungkook's heart skipped a beat.

"Okay. Then I will make sure we will become friends," he smiled back. He is thankful enough that Y/N is atleast willing to talk to him after the shit he has done. "How are you? Im glad you are back," he said slowly. "I really miss you..." his voice is barely above a whisper.

"Erm, I..." Y/N felt awkward. She really didnt know what to say. Despite the way Jungkook broke things off with her, and how he cheated on her, Y/N doesnt hate him. Instead, she blames herself everyday for making Jungkook stop loving her. She told herself that she should have take care of her appearance more, be more interesting, more fun, anything. "Im doing fine,"

"Y/N...listen. I didnt get the chance to tell you before. The moment I found out you left I went to find you Y/N, but I was too late..." Jungkook lowered his gaze. "I'm sorry. Im sorry for everything. Im sorry for-"

"Its okay!" She cut him off in a rush. She really didnt want to talk about it. She doesnt want to remember the pain she felt when Jungkook said he dont love her anymore. Her still healing heart might just break again. "Its not your fault. People fall out of love all the time. Things that happened are in the past. Lets just keep it there,"

Jungkook is surprised at the hurt he's feeling. What does she means by its not his fault? Its no one's fault but his! "But Y/N, I-"

"Kookie!" Jungkook saw Y/N's eyes widen as she looks over his shoulder at the sound that is currently calling his name.

"Oh hey! I'm Yurin," the girl flashed her a smile. Oh Y/N knows alright. She will never forget the face she found kissing and doing more intimate things with her boyfriend a year ago.

"H..hi. I'm Y/N," Jungkook chewed on his lower lips, guilt and panic all over his face.

"Oh sounds familiar. But anyway, nice to meet you!" Yurin greet cheerfully and turned to Jungkook. "Oh Kookie, I wanted to tell you that my group is joining this variety too! We are doing it together! Isnt that great?"

"Wh..what?" Jungkook flickered his gaze from Yurin to Y/N. Y/N averted her eyes as she looks down. Its all too much. The way she held his arm. The way she calls him. The way she talks to him. Its all too much.

"I...I better get going. See you Jungkook-ssi,"

"Y/N, wait! I-" He couldnt finished his sentence before she has hurried away. He sighed in frustration as his eyes followed Y/N who is stopped by Taehyung and Yoongi who finally has the chance to greet her. He saw how Taehyung hug her tight and lifted her up, swinging her petite body around in glee and Yoongi swooped in and gave her another tight hug, burying his head in her hair, that lasted a little too long for Jungkook's liking. Taehyung then stilole her away again and kissed her forehead. Jungkook turned back to Yurin who is still happily telling him the news and excuse himself.

Why does Yurin has to appear right now?

/////

Jungkook looks out the window as the van take them to their next venue for the shoot. Its the second day of shooting, and Jungkook is excited to see Y/N again. Its only been a few days and he miss her already. He's going crazy thinking of ways to get her back. But what bothers him most is what Y/N told him.

Its not your fault. People fall out of love all the time.

What does she meant by that? How is everything that happened not his fault? Does she really believes that he didnt love her anymore? How can she still be so forgiving and pure after everything he did and say to her in the midst of their breakup?

Jungkook mainly stare at her during the whole shoot and he almost cried out in frustration when its over and he still didnt have a chance to talk to her. That is until Taehyung happily told them that he managed to coaxed Y/N to join them for dinner. Despite being happy that he can get some time with her, Jungkook still feel a little jealousy seeping in when he thinks how Y/N easily agrees to Taehyung request. He calmed himself, trying to remember that Y/N and Taehyung has always been close even before she is in an official relationship with him.

Its okay. They are just very close friends. Very close friends.

Jungkook sat opposite from her, right at the end of the table, at the restaurant while Taehyung sat on her right. He keeps on looking at her as he placed pieces of grilled meat and side dishes on her plate without saying anything. She didnt say anything either, as she slowly eats whatever Jungkook placed in her plate while she softly talks and laugh with Taehyung.

"Thankyou for dinner. It was nice spending time with all of you again," she smiled at them. The truth is, she miss them so much when she was away.

"Then you should come and hang out at our dorm again. Just like before!" Jimin suggested.

"Yeah. You can be on my team when we play video games. Chim and Kookie is always ganging up on me!" Taehyung pouts. Y/N laughs and pinched his cheeks.

"Aish, you are so cute Tae. I really miss you,"

"Hear that? Y/N miss me!" He squeals at the other members making them rolled their eyes. Jungkook who is watching the whole scene start to feel the same sense of jealousy seeping through again.

Why is she calling him Tae? Why is she telling him she miss him? Why is she touching him? Is something going on with them? Jungkook cant stop all these negative thoughts from running through his mind.

"So I will get going now," Y/N motioned to the opposite way of the road. Hoseok and Jin starts to nudge Jungkook with their elbow.

"What?" He hissed. They motioned to Y/N with their eyes.

"Gosh, you are so stupid," Jin hissed back. It took a while for Jungkook to finally understand what they meant.

"Oh!" He quickly ran after Y/N. "Y/N, let me walk you home," he said between pants as he fall in steps beside her.

"Oh. Its okay Jungkook-ssi. Im used to it. The air is nice and I dont live that far from here," she smile, declining the offer.

"No. I insist. How can I let you walk home alone Y/N. You know I always worry about you," his voice turned soft as he looks at her. Y/N kept quiet as the memories came back. Its true. Through the six years they were together, Jungkook always worry about her safety. He always makes sure that she never walks alone. On nights when he is busy, he will make sure to call her a cab or an uber and check on her the minute she arrived to her destination.

"Y/N...I'm sorry," his soft voice broke through her thoughts. "I want to tell you again and again that I'm sorry. I am so so sorry for everything I did," Y/N shakes her head.

"No. Its okay. We dont have to talk about it. Its-"

"No!" Jungkook raised his voice, startling her. "Its not okay. Me cheating on you is not okay! The things I said to you that day... its not okay. Everything I did to you is not okay. Scream at me Y/N. Hit me, hate me. Do anything. I will take it all. I deserve it all," he said as she took both of her hands in his, stopping them in their tracks. "Do something. Dont pretend that I didnt hurt you... I know I did... and I'm stupid for doing it," Y/N finally hear the regret and pain in his voice, something she didnt witness when he broke up with her, making her heart ache.

"Yes Jungkook," her voice suddenly broke the silence. "It hurts so much. Is that what you wanted to hear? It hurts so much, I feel like dying," Y/N speaks up, making Jungkook's head snapped up to her face. "A part of me died when you say that you dont love me anymore. Especially when I cant think of anything else but loving you," tears starts to spilled down her cheeks. "But I know I'm the one to blame. I was too comfortable with our relationship, I let it die. I stop doing things that interest you... and its fine. You deserve better. You always do," she looked to his eyes with her teary ones.

Jungkook shakes his head as he held her hands tighter. Is that what Y/N thought all this while? She blamed herself?

God, what have I done to you baby?

"Y/N. Its nothing like that," he whispered softly. His own tears threatened to fall but he blinked them back. "I thought I wanted something new, but I was wrong. You are everything that I have always wanted I have everything I need in you but I threw it all away. I'm sorry for making you doubt yourself. I'm sorry for hurting you. I'm sorry. I'm just so so sorry for everything," Jungkook exhale. "I have never stop loving you Y/N. Im sorry for what I said. I love you Y/N. I have waited for so long for you to come back. I have waited for so long to show you again how much I love you,"

Y/N is shocked by his confession.

"Y/N, I promise to shower you with everything that you deserve. I know I dont deserve you, but please... please give me a chance to make up for my mistake,"

Y/N shrugged off her hands from Jungkook's hold, making him startled. "No! Im sorry, but I cant Jungkook," her voice shakes from too much sadness. "You cant do this to me again. It hurts so much the first time. I tried everything just to get over you. You cant just come back in my life just so you can shatter by heart to pieces again. Im sorry, but I cant Jungkook," Y/N choked out between sobs as she start to turn around to run away but Jungkook was faster, grabbing her hands.

"Let me go... please,"

"I will. But you have to listen to me first!" Jungkook cried in desperation. "I know. I know I dont deserve you, I know that Y/N. But as much as I know that, I also know that I simply cant live without you. I love you too much. Losing you... it hurts. It hurts more than anything I have ever felt," he peeks into her eyes, making her look at him. "But I promise you this. You can run from me Y/N. You can leave and ran away. But I will chase after you. I wont stop chasing you, wherever you go, I will follow you, I will be right behind you. I will be right there, until you are fully healed and realized that I wont do anything to hurt you ever again," he said with determination as he lets go of his hold on her, letting Y/N ran off without looking back to him.

/////

Jungkook tried hard to show he meant what he said after that night. He starts to talk to her more eventhough she ignores him. He will invite himself to eat with her, join her on her breaks and walk her home, even without her asking or acknowledging it. It also doesnt help that the boys are starting to pull her into getting close with them again. Inviting her to dinner and movie nights, lunches and just hanging out with them at the dorm. With time, Y/N has opened her heart to at least be friends with him again.

Yurin who eyed their growing relationship starts to be consumed with jealousy. She agreed to the breakup because its what Jungkook wants. She believes that someday he will come back to her. But with this Y/N girl around... and looking at how love struck and smitten Jungkook is with her... she sense all hope for them dying. The truth is, she loves Jungkook and she will do anything to get him back.

And that is exactly what she's going to do.

Jungkook sniffed the bouquet of sunflowers that he just bought with a smile on his face. Its Y/N's birthday today and he has everything planned out. He's going to give her the sunflowers when he sees her, then the boys are taking her out for dinner after work and after that they are going to give Jungkook some alone time with her. Jungkook has booked a private observatory just for the two of them. Maybe its a little too much for someone who are "just friends" but he feels giddy thinking about laying down on the blanket and the picnic he prepared for them, looking at the beautiful night sky together.

He look for her everywhere but couldnt seem to find Y/N. She most probably have somewhere else to be. Running late for his first scene, Jungkook just placed the flowers in one of the rooms, knowing Y/N will find it since he has attached a card to them. He smile as he makes his way to his hyungs.

"You guys are on in about 10 minutes," Y/N peeked her head inside the girls' dressing room. Yurin and her group are now also a part of the show and although it kills her to see the face that haunts her nights everyday, she have to keep it profesional. Y/N was about to turn away when she heard the girl's conversation.

"How sweet is Jungkook? Its like you two never broke up!"

"Yeah. My ex would never would have bought me flowers. Especially without an occasion," another squeal. "Maybe the two of you would get back together!"

Y/N, given in to her curiosity, peeks her head again to see Yurin smiling so bright, holding a bouquet of sunflowers close to her chest.

Jungkook gave her flowers? I guess they are still close... And he didnt even wish me a happy birthday. Y/N thought sadly as she walks away with a burning ache in her heart.

Dinner was wonderful. The boys was so much fun to be with and the food is delicious. But she was more excited after Jungkook leaned in close to her and smile, whispering something to her that make her forget about Yurin and the flowers earlier.

"I have something special planned for your birthday after dinner. Just you and me,"

Y/N was excited as all of them picked up their coats and get ready to head out from the restaurant, she is more than ready for Jungkook's surprise. Who is she kidding? She has forgiven him long ago and her heart is already falling for him again. Y/N smile as she thinks about Jungkook. She can feel he has really changed this time.

Jungkook was just about to take Y/N's hand as they head out when his phone rings.

"Yurin?" He answered making Y/N and the other boys turned their heads to him. "Yeah, yeah of course. I will be right there. Dont worry. I will always be there for you," he spoke rapidly into the phone. Hearing Jungkook saying those words makes Y/N''s heart ache even more.

"Y/N... I'm sorry... but I have to-"

"Its okay. Yurin needs you right?" She asks cocking her head. The other boys stands awkwardly, not knowing what to do.

"Its not like that. I..." Jungkook sighed as he ran his hand through his hair. Leaving her for Yurin. Again. On her birthday. He knows this doesnt look good on him. Especially when he's trying so hard to win her back. But Yurin was crying on the phone asking him to take her to the hospital. He cant just leave her alone.

But looking at Y/N who's trying to hide her dissapointed face... it kills him. "About what I said earlier... Tae-hyung will take you there," he suddenly said while looking at a surprised Taehyung.

"Me?" Taehyung points to himself. "Urm yeah, yeah. That's right. Anything for the birthday girl," he flashed her his signature smile and offer his arm to her after Jungkook mouthed a 'please' to him.

"Oh no. Its okay Tae. You dont have to. I dont want to burden you," Y/N waved her hands.

"No. I insisted. A pretty girl like you shouldnt be spending her birthday alone. And its not a burden. In fact Im the lucky one to be spending some alone time with you," he wiggle his eyebrows making her laugh. Jungkook swallowed a lump in his throat as he looks at the love of her life links her arms to his hyung's and walking away. Taehyung has always been flirty, Jungkook knows that. But he also knows how his hyung has a soft spot reserved just for Y/N and how his eyes twinkle when he looks at her.

Dont fall for Taehyung Y/N. Not when I'm right here waiting for you.

/////

"Tae, its beautiful!" Y/N exclaimed as she looks up at the stars.

"Yes, it is..." Taehyung whispered as he keeps on looking at her. He still couldnt believe how Jungkook is stupid enough to have hurt such a wonderful girl like her. If he was given the privileged to own her heart, he will do anything to keep that smile on her face.

"Cant believe Jungkook prepared all this and didnt get to see it," at the sound of his friend's name, Taehyung snapped out from his thoughts and plopped down besides Y/N who is now sitting on the blanket. "But I guess Yurin is always more important," she said in a low voice as she lay her head on his shoulder. Taehyung wrapped his arms around her. He can see how much Y/N still loves his younger friend and how being so close to Yurin hurts her. Why cant Jungkook see that?

"Hey... dont be sad. Its your birthday," he replied softly as he kissed her head. "Jungkook cares about you, you know. He still loves you," it pains him to say it but if Jungkook is what makes Y/N happy, so he held it in. Y/N kept quiet, lifting her head, staring at the stars.

"Right now, I dont want to think about him Tae," she suddenly broke the silence. "Right now, I just want to enjoy this beautiful sight with you," she whispered as she snuggle closer, laying herself on his chest. "You are wonderful Tae. I wish you are the one I had fallen for..." her voice so soft, like she didnt mean for Taehyung to hear her but he did. Taehyung wrapped his hands tighter around her, feeling his heart skipped a little faster.

"Then fall for me Y/N," he whispered softly under his breath, making sure Y/N didnt hear him.

Jungkook cursed as he make his way back to the dorms after checking up on Yurin. He didnt know why she made such a big deal. When he arrived, Yurin just actually have a little cold. With frustration, he went to get her some medicine from the drug store and went home after giving them to her. Because of her, he missed out on a romantic night with Y/N on her birthday. Because of her, his hyung is spending some time alone with Y/N, doing God knows what. What if Y/N fall for Taehyung while looking into each other eyes under the stars? Those kind of thoughts fills his mind all night, especially when he realized Taehyung is still not back hours after he was supposed to. Jungkook sighed and forced himself to sleep while thinking of the good memories he used to have with Y/N.

Jungkook tries to make up for that night the next time he sees her by asking her out for a coffee date during one of the shoots break time. Y/N agreed and told him to just wait for her at the cafe as she has things to finished up first.

Ordering her favorite drink, smiling to himself when he realizes he still remembers, he sat down at a corner by the large glass window, patiently waiting for her.

"Hey Kookie. What are you doing here?" He groans as he looks up and see a smiling Yurin.

"Im actually waiting for Y/N,"

"Oh? Maybe I should keep you company while you wait for her. I have no where to go right now anyway and its so cold outside," Yurin took a seat without bothering to wait for his permission. Although annoyed, Jungkook and Yurin still has a decent conversation with each other. He still enjoy her presence. After all, they did used to date.

She suddenly blinked rapidly and squeal.

"What's wrong?"

"There's something in my eyes. Can you help to blow it away?" She asks as she squint. Jungkook stood up and leaned across the table, first softly tucking her stray hair behind her ear and blow into her eyes.

"Is it gone now?" She shakes her head.

"No. Lean in closer. Can you check if there's anything in my eye?" Jungkook, not doubting anything leaned in closer across the table, peering into her eyes, their faces are so close she can feel his warm breath on her face, his scent making her dizzy. She suddenly bumped her head to his, making their lips touched for a second.

"Oh Im sorry. It was an accident," she smile sheepishly. Jungkook just grunted and sat back down before he turned to the window. What he saw outside almost make his heart stop. Y/N is standing there staring at them and Jungkook knows she must saw what had just happened between him and Yurin and get the wrong idea. Jungkook immediately stood up to go out to her but the moment she realized Jungkook is looking back at her, she stumbled on her feet and fell down scraping her knee. She quickly stand up and ran away.

Jungkook ran after her, figuring our she must have went back to the shoot since they still have another scene later. Reaching the set, panting and breathless, Jungkook search everywhere for Y/N. After a while he finally found her, but not in the situation he has been expecting. Y/N was perched up on a table, her face wet with tears as Taehyung kneeled in front of her, cleaning her wounded knee from the fall earlier. Jungkook can feel his body starts to be consumed wirh anger and jealousy as he marched into the room.

"What are you doing hyung?!"

"Im cleaning Y/N's wound. Cant you see?" Taehyung replied, raising his eyebrow. Jungkook came closer and grab the hand that is touching Y/N's knee.

"Dont touch her!" His aggressive behavior surprised both himself and Taehyung, and of course Y/N herself. "I...I mean, let me do it,"

Taehyung hesitates for a moment but after looking at the two of them, he decides to give them space. "Fine. But if you hurt her again, I will kill you," he whispered to the maknae as he passes by to exit the room.

Jungkook kneeled down and start to continue cleaning the wound. Y/N shivers the moment Jungkook's warm fingers touch her cold skin and a fresh batch of tears starts to erupt.

"Y/N, its not like what you think," Jungkook srood up to level himself with her. "What you saw, its not like that,"

"I...I didnt see anything,"

"Then why are you crying?"

"Im crying because it hurts. My knee hurts," she whimpered. Jungkook smile.

"The Y/N I know didnt even bat an eye when she broke her arm. I dont think she will cry this hard because of some tiny wound on her knee," his face is so close to her, she can feel him breathing as she closes her eyes. "Y/N... I'm sorry," he leaned in closer. "Please believe me. There is nothing going on between me and Yurin. We-"

The mentioned of Yurin's name makes something snapped inside of Y/N, making her eyes opened and pushed Jungkook away, startling him. She climbed down the table and walk to further herself away from him.

"No. I cant do this anymore," she said in a shaky voice.

"Y/N, what are you talking ab-"

"This. Being this close to you. Pretending to be friends with you. I cant do it anymore. Not when the image of you and Yurin still haunt me everyday. I cant do it anymore Jungkook," she yelled. Jungkook is shocked. Y/N was never like this. She is always calm and composed. What has he done to push her to become this?

"Y/N. Please listen to me. I lov-"

"Dont say anything. Just dont," she cut him off, shaking her head. "You have hurt me enough Jungkook. Please... I dont want to hurt anymore. Please, just leave me alone!" She turned around and exited the room, living Jungkook alone, shaking to the bones trying to comprehend what just happened.

/////

Y/N avoided him and his hyungs since then. Jungkook didnt know what else to do. How can he be so dumb? How can he not see what Yurin is up to? He finally found out the scheme Yurin is planning to ensure he and Y/N will never be together when he overheard her talking to one of her groupmates. He finally found out about the flowers, about the fake sickness, how she had planned everything to always ended up wherever Jungkook and Y/N is headed and how she staged the whole accidental kiss in the coffee shop. Jungkook is furious. Furious at her for being such a bitch. Furious at himself for falling for her trap. He should have known better to stay friends with a girl like Yurin.

And now he's going to lose Y/N all over again.

"I told you I will kill you if you hurt her again!" Taehyung slammed Jungkook's bedroom door open. Jungkook looks at him with no emotions in his eyes. That's how he is since Y/N told him to stay away form her. To stop hurting her. Her words keeps replaying in his mind and it kills him to know that that's what Y/N thought of him. As someone who continuously hurts her.

"Go away hyung,"

"No! After what you did, this is how you are going to act?!"

"What do you want me to do hyung? I am not good for her. I hurt her. Thats all I do. I know Im stupid, an idiot. Whatever it is you came here to say to me, I already know it. So just get on with it and leave," Jungkook turned around in his bed, showing his back to Taehyung.

"You are really a fucking asshole Jungkook. I dont know why she loves you. I dont even know why I'm doing this when I know you will just hurt her again. But..." Taehyung's voice soften. "She's leaving again Kook. She resigned and she's boarding a train today. She's leaving,"

"What?" Jungkook immediately sat up.

"She's leaving and she's not coming back. If you truly loves her, go now. Go and fight for her now!" Jungkook, without waiting for anything else jumped out of bed and ran outside the door.

I'm coming Y/N. Dont leave. Please dont leave me.

With the information that Taehyung has texted him with, Jungkook managed to reached the platform in time, having even to buy a random ticket to get in. He searched around everywhere and finally found the person he was looking for.

"Y/N..." Y/N turned around at the sound of her name, surprised to see the man she loves standing there, looking disheveled.

"Jungkook? Wh...why are you here?"

"Please dont leave me again. Please Y/N. Please stay with me..." He walks closer to her as Y/N chuckle through her tears.

"I didnt leave you the first time Jungkook. You left me. You left our relationship remember?" She said softly. Jungkook stand in front of her, both of them facing each other, having so much to say but also nothing at the same time.

"I'm sorry Y/N. But please stay with me this time. I... I love you. I love you so much," Jungkook's voice is broken, as broken as his heart.

"I cant. I'm sorry but I cant. I dont want to hurt anymore Jungkook. Being here... with you... my heart will never heal," she said softly. Jungkook didnt get to say anything as the train speeds in, blocking all sounds. "I have to go now. I'm sorry. I'm sorry Jungkook," Y/N said one last time with tears flowing down her face as she turnd away to the train's entrance. Jungkook can feel her vision gets blurry as tears starts to flood his eyes.

This is it. This is the moment he will lose her forever.

And there's nothing more he can do to make her stay.

"Be happy Y/N. I love you," he gave her a small smile and turned away, not willing to look at the girl he loves boarding the train that will take her away from him forever.

Jungkook fell down to his knees as he hear the sound of the train drove away, taking along his heart away with it. He sat there on the floor, crying his heart out.

"Yah, Jeon Jungkook!"

Jungkook wiped his eyes. Is he dreaming? That sounds like...

He turns around to see Y/N still standing there, wind blowing her hair and face a wet mess with tears, but never looking as beautiful as she did in this moment.

"Y..Y/N?"

"How can you just let me go like that!" Y/N walks closer and hit his chest. "You promised me that night. You promised me that you wont stop chasing me Jungkook. Did you already give up on me?" She cried out. Jungkook grabbed her tiny wrists, halting her from continuosly hitting his chest. He pulled her into a hug and buried his face in her hair while her cries is muffled by his broad chest.

"N..no. I would never give up on you baby. I would never," he whispered. "But I promised you that I wont do anything to hurt you ever again. And being with me is what hurts you Y/N," he sniffled. Y/N pulled her face from his chest to look at him.

"You are an idiot. You are really an idiot Jeon Jungkook," she starts to hit his chest again. "How can you ever think for a moment that I would be happy without you? You may have broken my heart into pieces Jungkook, but without you, I wont ever be able to piece it back together. Maybe that makes me an idiot, but that is what I am. An idiot for you," her tears starts to flow again. "I love you so much Jungkook. I love you. Please. Please promise me that you will love me. You will keep on fighting for me this time. You will stop hurting me," her voice soft as she begged, breaking Jungkook's heart. Never again would he want to hear his love begged to be loved by him.

"Baby," he cupped her cheeks and wiped her tears with his thumb. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything. But I promise this time I wont ever do anything to hurt you ever again. If I could turn back time, I would take away all the pain I have put you through. I will fight for you everyday. Even when you are mine, I will still fight for you. I wont ever take you for granted ever again. I will cherished you, love you, worship you,"

"Just promise me you wont hurt me ever again. Just promise me Jungkook,"

"I promise baby. I swear with my life that I will do everything I can to make you happy with me," he kissed her forehead. "Thankyou for taking me back baby. Thankyou for giving me a chance. Thankyou for staying,"

"I have never left Jungkook. Because you have taken my heart from the very first moment we met, and you never did give it back. So in here," she pokes his heart, "is where I will stay, forever,"

#bts #bts fiction #bts scenario #bangtan boys #bangtan #bangtan scenarios #BTS jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook #juungkook scenario #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #kpop #kpop fanfiction #kpop scenario

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johnfkennedyjunior · 5 years

Text

Favorite Son

It was madness, even by Bloomingdale’s standards. The customers that late-November lunchtime were possessed by an urgency that transcended mere pre-Christmas shopping lust. Suddenly, TV lights came on and cameras started snapping like piranhas as the day’s hottest item, John Fitzgerald Kennedy Jr., the son of America’s thirty-fifth president, stepped onto a platform. Women screamed.

“It was mass hysteria,” one store worker says. “Poor man. I don’t think he had any idea.” Kennedy looked amazed and none too happy. “Oh, dear,” he said as he joined cousins Ted Kennedy Jr. and Willie Smith, Willie’s mother, Jean Kennedy Smith, and Lauren Bacall on the store’s loge level.

Very Special Arts, a Kennedy charity, was behind this sale of boxed Christmas ornaments produced by the retarded in Third World countries. But the TV crews and the screaming women and the pushing paparazzi didn’t care about that. They didn’t care about Betty Bacall, either, or the other Kennedy cousins — all associate trustees of the Joseph P. Kennedy Foundation who had funded the program. Says the Bloomingdale’s employee, “They wanted John.”

Kennedy took the microphone. “I hope you’ll all buy a few boxes,” he said. “I’m here to sell boxes, and that’s what I want to get to do.” Of course, by doing that-or, more precisely, by autographing boxes for a few minutes-he got the ornaments mentioned on seven local news shows and Entertainment Tonight. Jill Rapaport, a perky Channel 2 News reporter, even got a brief interview. “It’s really the boxes they should be coming for, not us,” Kennedy told her. Then he got boxed in himself as Rapaport asked how it felt to be one of the world’s most eligible bachelors. “C’mon,” Kennedy pleaded, eyes and hands turning upward. “1 dunno.” He glanced away from the microphone hopelessly. Finally, visibly embarrassed, he said, “It feels okay.” Cut to Rapaport happy-talking in the studio later. “Kinda cute, huh?” she said to the camera.

Although Bloomingdale’s sold almost $50,000 worth of ornaments that day, John Kennedy, 28, considered the appearance disappointing. “We didn’t want it to turn out the way it did,” says Kathy Walther, a Very Special Arts executive. “It was very obnoxious from the second he walked in. John hoped it would be more substantive.”

Unfortunately, substance isn’t ‘the first thing that comes to mind when most people think about John F. Kennedy Jr. First, of course, comes the awful, indelible memory of the little boy in a blue coat and short pants, saluting his father’s bronze coffin.

That image alternates with others not so sober: Kennedy pumped-up and shirtless as People magazine’s “Sexiest Man Alive.” Kennedy linked in the columns with an enviable parade-Brooke Shields, Madonna, Daryl Hannah, Molly Ringwald, Princess Stephanie of Monaco.

Those images melded at his political coming-out party, last summer’s Democratic Convention-where John F. Kennedy Jr., tabloid celebrity, was transformed into the living embodiment of a nation’s not-quite-impossible dream: that it will wake up one morning with another JFK in the White House. Uncle Ted Kennedy passed the torch himself when he had John introduce him to the delegates, and though the nephew’s speech didn’t rattle the rafters, there was a surge of emotion in the hall. This was the first time John had ever acted the part of “a Kennedy” on a national stage. And the moment suggested that he could become the ultimate postmodern politician-a blank canvas for fantasies of national destiny.

* * *

The boy in the blue coat is grown up now, and, whether he likes it or not, people still have their eyes on him. He doesn’t like it at all, and friends insist that his life is a quest for anonymity and normality. He may never find privacy (“He’s never known life any different,” says a friend), but he’s won the battle to be normal. Aggressively normal. “Disgustingly normal,” says a friend.

He is also understandably reluctant to give anything away, having already given so much. Kennedy “is trying to have an open life,” says Faith Stevelman, who met him on their second day of law school, in 1986. “He sure turned out to be completely different than I expected. The press makes him out to be a narcissistic celebrity brat, but he’s not. People want to see him that way, because of his father, because of his name, because he’s handsome, but-praise to him-he has a life that’s much more real than that. He likes being in the world.”

He doesn’t like publicity, though. “It curtails his freedom,” Stevelman says.

So, aside from lending his name to good causes, he’s done nothing to attract attention to himself. He’s given only one print interview in his life, to the New York Times, and it wasn’t particularly revealing. Not speaking to reporters “has always been a habit,” says his aunt Lee Radziwill. “We’re not going to start now.”

One former family intimate describes the Kennedy attitude as “a conspiracy of silence, mandated from above. But when they want to get the message out, they do.” John Kennedy declined to be interviewed for this story. But there’s a message his friends want to get out, so many of them cooperated, as did former coworkers and bosses and a few Kennedy-family members.

They are setting the stage for what a Kennedy Foundation executive describes as “John emerging into the public sphere.” After having worked for New York City, a nonprofit developer, the Reagan Justice Department, and apolitically connected Los Angeles law firm, the man who is perhaps the most famous presidential child of the century is about to become one of about 400 assistant district attorneys in the office of Manhattan prosecutor Robert Morgenthau.

Like a favored candidate’s spin doctors before a big debate, Kennedy’s friends are trying to lower expectations. “The most extraordinary thing about him is that he’s extraordinarily ordinary,” says one.

Public appearances to the contrary, friends seem convinced, and want to convince others, that John Fitzgerald Kennedy Jr. — JFK II — doesn’t really exist. “He wants to be perceived as his own man,” says Peter Allen, a friend since grade school. Says Stevelman heatedly, “He’s not John F. Kennedy Jr. He is himself. It’s `Hi, I’m John.’ ” Just John.

John doesn’t share the problems of some of the other Kennedy cousins of his generation. “Monsters,” the former family friend calls them. A friend of John’s agrees: “They might as well have the name emblazoned on their sleeves.” John does share many traits with his father, though-and people want to believe he shares even more. Just like his father, he is bound up with his immediate family. “All of our lives, there’s just been the three of us — Mommy, Caroline, and I,” John said at his sister’s wedding. Besides them, he’s got a coterie of intensely loyal friends-some of whom go back through prep school just like his father’s. At Brown University, where John earned a bachelor’s degree in history in 1983, his friends literally surrounded him, shielding him from the 14,500 spectators during their mile-long graduation processional. John’s also got his father’s charisma. “Even if he wasn’t John Kennedy,” says his cousin Cecil Auchincloss, “people would notice him at a party. Even as a kid.” Though he seems to disdain Kennedy competitiveness (when he was a child, the cousins called him “Mama’s Boy”), John shares his father’s love of athletics. An active outdoorsman, he skis; rafts, snorkels, hikes, and goes camping. “He’s an overenergetic, can’t-sit-still type,” a friend reports.

Also like his father (and like his mother’s father, Black Jack Bouvier, who had an affair on his honeymoon), John’s got serious sex appeal. “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree,” says a young woman who knows him. “Girls come and go.”

In fact, only with women does John act as if he wanted to be noticed. “It’s no wonder rumors start,” says one woman he’s flirted with. Adds another who encountered him on the street, “He was begging for attention.”

He doesn’t always have to beg. Madonna, this generation’s self-styled Marilyn Monroe, set her cap for John. “He and Madonna were good friends,” says a fast-crowd friend of the Kennedy cousins. “She was obviously the aggressor.”

Friends of John’s also believe that their contacts were all initiated by Madonna. “I think they met when [John's cousin] Bobby Shriver made his Special Olympics album,” says one pal. “Then Madonna invited John to her concert at Madison Square Garden. She also works out with the same trainer. I don’t think that’s chance.” Though some insist that John has had “dates” with Madonna between rounds in her marital bout with Sean Penn, a close friend of the singer’s sighed when I asked her if the duo’s rumored relationship was real. “If only,” she said.

Many of John’s supposed assignations turn out to be fictions. Another Kennedy “date,” identified in some papers as Molly Ringwald, was actually John’s steady girlfriend of four years, actress Christina Haag. “A good thing,” a friend jokes. “Christina would have believed it.”

Haag, the daughter of a retired businessman, grew up in Manhattan. She is not the blue blood she’s sometimes made out to be; she’s an actress struggling to make ends meet. A graduate of Juilliard, she has played Ophelia at Center Stage in Baltimore, acted in A Matter of Degrees, an independent film about college students, and played the public-relations woman for a hospital in The Littlest Victim, an upcoming TV movie about a doctor who treats children with AIDS. Between jobs, she has checked coats at Elio’s and worked as an assistant to Seventh Avenue designer Christine Thomson.

Luckily, both John and Christina know Daryl Hannah and knew it wasn’t true when, late last year, Suzy said he’d proposed to the star. Says a Kennedy friend, “They’ve all known each other for years.” A gossip item once appeared saying that Hannah, the daughter of a Chicago real-estate magnate, had followed college-age John down a beach on St. Martin. “They were twelve at the time,” says the friend, “and I bet he followed her. If she’d been following him, he would have stopped.”

Then there are the models. Kennedy has met some through Richard Wiese, a Phi Psi fraternity brother at Brown who is now a Ford model. Audra Avizienis, a Click face, told People she had dated John. Now she claims the magazine misquoted her. People’s reporter denies it. So has she gone out with him? “That’s beside the point,” Avizienis snaps.

An older friend of the family considers this all par for the course. “Kennedys love beautiful people, winners,” she says. “They like movie stars, like everyone else. But everybody else isn’t moving in those circles all the time. Kennedy men are intensely, highly sexed. There’s a lot of activity. But the women they marry are solid gold. They need both and they get it. Why not have the cream of the crop?”

There are two other traits Kennedy shares with his father: wit and a penchant for pranks. While working for the city after he graduated from Brown, he kidnapped a secretary’s beloved teddy bears, sent her a ransom note (“We have the bears”), and then executed them in a mock mass hanging. He also sent a stripper to meet with a co-worker who was interviewing prospective secretaries. “I thought she was a good candidate,” the co-worker says. “More articulate than most.”

* * *

Carried to extremes, pranks can reflect an underlying carelessness. But “there’s an incredible amount expected of John,” a friend points out. “He has to sacrifice what a lot of us would consider routine.��

John has had several minor run-ins with the law. Last year, he paid $2,300 in parking tickets. “I later learned the reason [he paid them],” says J. Bertram Shair, the administrative judge who heard Kennedy’s case. “He has to clear himself of all judgments in order to qualify for the D.A.’s office. I don’t think he enjoyed writing the check. He said in view of all the tickets, perhaps he ought to get free parking in the future.” Shair gave him “a gratuitous little lecture. I told him he’s going places. He should take care how he’s perceived.”

The blackest mark on Kennedy’s record is one that will be understood by anyone with a passing knowledge of the habits of 24-year-old men. Between 1984 and 1986, he and a friend sublet a co-op apartment on West 86th Street. According to someone close to the deal, Kennedy was often late with his rent checks and could never remember his keys. “He rang everyone’s buzzer,” the source says. “He drove the super crazy. He had a water bed, which was against the rules. The board was within inches of evicting them.”

Finally, their sublease ran out and the owner returned. “It looked like a herd of yaks had lived there,” the source says. “Somebody had clearly put their fist through the wall. The carpet looked like they’d had cookouts on it. Every surface had to be sanded, spackled, and patched.”

The current president of the building’s co-op board is forgiving, though. “People tend to be tougher on personalities than on the rest of us,” he says.

An older and presumably wiser Kennedy now lives alone in a two-bedroom apartment in the West Nineties. He keeps his keys tied to his belt. Though his new apartment has been “nicely done” with his mother’s decorating help, a friend says it is often “kind of messy.” Christina Haag lives nearby. Kennedy often has breakfast at a health-food restaurant on Columbus Avenue. Then he bicycles 90 or so blocks south to the Village, where he spends his days completing his third and final year at the New York University School of Law. He also works in Brooklyn Family Court, where, as a member of NYU’s Juvenile Rights Clinic, he defends minors accused of felonies.

Late last year, after a series of interviews, he got the $29,000-a-year A.D.A. job, which friends say he coveted. Morgenthau’s office will not confirm Kennedy’s appointment, but friends say he will start work in August.

John and his sister seem to be remarkably solid young people, given the circumstances of their lives, and everyone directs the credit to their mother, Jacqueline Onassis. Under unbearable scrutiny, she raised them amazingly well.

John was known at the three private schools he attended as bright but more rebellious and troubled than Caroline. His most embarrassing teenage moment involved drinking. He and Caroline celebrated their birthdays (his eighteenth, her twenty-first) with a bash at Le Club, arranged by their mother. At five in the morning, as the party broke up, Kennedy and his school friends fought with a National Enquirer photographer. “I opened the door and John was lying in the gutter,” says Patrick Shields, the club’s director, who dusted Kennedy off and deposited him in a taxi. “Jackie’s comment to me the next morning was `I’m walking on a cloud.’ ” Adds Shields, “I don’t think she’d seen the paper yet.”

* * *

John Kennedy has been a public curiosity since he was conceived. He gave out a “lusty cry” at birth, according to the obstetrician who delivered him by cesarean section on November 25, 1960. Seventeen days before, his father had been elected president. As the first White House baby since 1893, John Jr. made front pages around the world. After his christening, his 31-year-old mother imposed a press blackout. The publicity-conscious president fought it with mixed success by sneaking photographers and the kids into the Oval Office when Jackie was out of town, but still, no photos of John were released for a year.

Tidbits about him did leak out, though. In May 1963, he sucked his thumb while meeting astronaut Gordon Cooper but took it out long enough to say “Cooper, Cooper.” And in November 1963, at a Veterans Day program at Arlington National Cemetery, John-John, as he was called, upstaged the troops by performing acrobatics while dangling from the hands of his father and an aide. A few weeks later, the president boarded a helicopter at the White House for a flight to Andrews Air Force Base and then to Dallas. It was the last time he saw the young son Jackie said was “his real kin spirit.”

As a child, John would talk about his father proudly. “He was fascinated,” says a family friend, “and he enjoyed hearing how people responded to that little boy.”

Friends say that now, though John rarely brings up his father, he is gracious when others do. Nevertheless, awkward moments do occur. “One time he was hanging out in somebody’s room,” recalls a fraternity brother, “and they were playing the Stones’ `Sympathy for the Devil’ ” (which contains the lyric “I shouted out, `Who killed the Kennedys?’ / When after all / it was you and me”). “Everyone realized, `Uh-oh.’ But at some point, he’d just walked out and then he walked back in again. He just avoided the situation.”

Friends are careful with him. “It’s never come up and I wouldn’t bring it up,” says Stevelman. “It can’t be an easy thing. During the week of the [twenty-fifth] anniversary [of JFK's assassination], I was worried for him. Who wants to be exposed to that? But he’s incredibly together about it. I’m sure it moves him. How could it not? But he’s integrating it into a sane life.”

“I think he’s very proud of what his father did,” adds another,

Aristotle Onassis died in Paris on March 15, 1975. Jackie’s $26-million settlement with his estate, negotiated with Christina Onassis, added to established Kennedy trust funds and left the children without financial worries.

During the mid-seventies, John was listed in the Social Register, regularly saw a psychiatrist, and changed schools again, transferring to Phillips Academy in Andover, Massachusetts. After being held back a year, he finally graduated in 1979. “He certainly wasn’t at the top of his class,” says a longtime friend.

John also. spent some time at Xenon, the club owned by Howard Stein, who calls himself a “disco uncle” to the Kennedy cousins. They were treated like kings by Stein’s partner, Peppo Vanini, who considered them “the closest thing to royals in America,” Stein says, “and made overtures to induce them into our world.”

Robert Kennedy’s children became Xenon regulars, but “John-John was special,” Stein says. “He was less a disco baby. He was shier, ingenuous. He didn’t leverage his name off the way kids of the famous do in my world. He had star quality. So every time he was there, he got his picture in the papers. It took a scandal for the other Kennedy kids to be photographed.”

* * *

In the next half-dozen years, John would be photographed often in discos with a steady girlfriend, Sally Munro, who was in the class ahead of his at Brown. Kennedy, ever the prankster, identified her to photographers as “Lisa, my fiance.”

Nightlife wasn’t the only temptation. Girls slept outside the door of his dorm room when he was a freshman. He later moved into the Phi Psi house and then into a house off campus that he shared with several students, including Christina Haag. Kennedy was also attracted to the stage, appearing in campus productions of Volpone, Short Eyes, and In the Boom Boom Room. Producer Robert Stigwood even offered John a part in a film, as his father. He was interested. His mother, reportedly, was upset.

The professional offers kept coming after he left Brown “bad things, because of who he was,” says Peter Allen. “He thought it would be fun, but he didn’t want to trade on his name.”

Show business remained alluring, though, and in the summer of 1985, Kennedy finally appeared on a Manhattan stage, starring in six invitation-only performances of Winners at the 75seat Irish Arts Center. The show was a workshop mounted by friends from the drama set at Brown. Christina Haag was a costar.

Kennedy and Haag played star-crossed lovers in Northern Ireland. Leaving the theater one night, John told a reporter, “This is not a professional acting debut. It’s just a hobby.” And reports vary on his talent. A Brown critic once took exception to his “prep-school voice.”

Sometime after the short run of Winners, John’s relationship with Sally Munro ended amicably and Christina Haag stepped into the role of girlfriend. “John had had a secret crush on her since he was five,” says a friend. “Actually, I don’t think it was secret. He asked her out every week and she said no every time.”

Friends say Haag is whimsical, stylish, and quite serious about her career-and that her relationship with John has not always helped it. She never trades on him, they say. Indeed, she avoids publicity that might help her. “They make her sound like a hanger-on,” a friend says. “The fact is, her boyfriend takes away from her craft.”

Friends admit that John and Christina have had some rough sledding. For a while after college, John “was playing around a lot,” says a former co-worker. “He got along well with girls. He enjoyed it, like anyone would.” But now, according to friends of Christina’s, the relationship is strong. Haag even refers to herself as his “law widow.”

* * *

Until now, no one has asked much of John Kennedy. But quietly, off the gossip pages, he has built an impressive resume for a young man just starting his career. The summer before he went off to college, he attended National Outdoor Leadership School with students from the United States and Africa, studying mountaineering and environmental issues at 17,000 feet on Mount Kenya. The next summer, he met government and student leaders in Zimbabwe, and worked briefly for a mining company in Johannesburg. Maurice Tempelsman — Jackie’s diamond merchant companion-probably had a hand in planning the trip.

After his sophomore year, he worked for Ted Van Dyk at the Center for Democratic Policy, a Washington-based liberal think tank. Again, Tempelsman suggested that John apply for the student internship. Living with the Shrivers, Kennedy immersed himself in political organizing, advance work, research, and working the room on a fund-raising trip to Hollywood. That summer, he saw for the first time the power he had. “He began to realize he was a celebrity,” says Van Dyk. “He had his first contact with clutchers and grabbers. He handled it.” John even talked back to Norman Lear, who, says Van Dyk, “went on about what close friends he was with the president,” then said he was saving his money for his own lobbying group, People for the American Way. “You’d be better served giving the money to us,” Kennedy said.

John was “genuinely undecided” about his future, and Van Dyk was sympathetic. “You get a churning stomach thinking about all those Kennedy kids in politics,” he says. “You’re pleased to see them respond as several have, yet relieved when any of them decides to do something else. An expectation hangs over them. I don’t think John feels compelled.” Still, back at Brown, John worked for the University Conference for Democratic Policy, which sponsored disarmament forums on northeastern college campuses.

The summer after his junior year, Kennedy and his cousin Tim Shriver tutored underprivileged children in English as part of a University of Connecticut program. Finally, after he graduated, he stopped for some fun, signing on as first mate on the Vast Explorer, searching for the pirate treasure ship Whidah in the waters off Cape Cod.

Following the 1984 Democratic Convention in San Francisco, where he helped Van Dyk raise more money, Kennedy came home and took a job with the city. In his $20,000-a-year position in the Office of Business Development, he worked to attract and keep business in New York. “His references were extraordinary,” says his boss, Larry Kieves. “He worked in the same crummy cubbyhole as everybody else. I heaped on the work and was always pleased.”

John “wasn’t overly sophisticated,” a co-worker adds. “He was one of the few young people there who acted his age.” She fondly recalls how he would change from his bicycle clothes into a suit in the office, but often leave his shirttails hanging out. (Though he still sometimes dresses that way, he was named to the International Best Dressed List this year.)

In 1986, Kennedy switched jobs, moving to the 42nd Street Development Corporation as acting deputy executive director, conducting negotiations with developers and city agencies. Jackie was on the nonprofit company’s board. “John was an intelligent bargain,” says Fred Papert, the corporation’s president. “Salary was not of grave concern to him. He knew his way around the city. He’s unpredictable in a good way. He was both orderly and passionate-a rare combination.”

Kennedy entered law school that fall. The following summer, he worked for William Bradford Reynolds, the Reagan Justice Department’s civil-rights chief, making $358 a week as one of seven interns. Last summer, his salary improved when he became a $1,100-a-week summer associate at Manatt, Phelps, Rothenberg & Phillips, a Los Angeles law firm with strong connections to the Democrats, and worked for his uncle Ted’s lawschool roommate, Charlie Manatt.

* * *

At last summer’s Democratic Convention, major speakers chose the people who would introduce them. Ted Kennedy asked, and John was delighted. So was a party that was “trying to reach out to the younger boomer crowd,” according to a Democratic National Committee official. Backstage, John “was nervous as hell,” reports an observer. He needn’t have worried. “Stars are born at conventions,” the official says. “He certainly came out as a Democrat everyone will be watching for a long time.”

Does John want that? Friends and former employers say that he seems committed to some kind of public service. “He has a great way with people,” says Andrew Cuomo. “He’s as comfortable with homeless kids in a playground as he is at the Democratic Convention, and that’s truly a gift.” In between law classes, he works with Cuomo’s HELP program, the Fresh Air Fund, the Kennedy Library, and the Kennedy Foundation’s associate trustees. The foundation is behind his latest project: working with the City University of New York on a plan to assist the mentally handicapped. “He’s not doing it to get recognition,” says Dr. Jeffrey Sachs, who is working with John. “He’s a real mensch.”

His enthusiasm falters, it seems, only in academia. One of his NYU professors judged him “unremarkable. Given the opportunities offered someone so blessed, one would have wanted him to give more evidence of ambition, drive, and vision. But maybe my course didn’t inspire him.”

Kennedy has apparently found something to inspire him in criminal law. And it isn’t really surprising that a man whose father and uncle were both murdered should choose to become a prosecutor. The A.D.A.’s job is “tough work,” says his law school friend Stevelman. “It takes someone who really wants to get down and deal with real people’s needs. I don’t think John likes things easy or false.”

“His interest in criminal law is marketable and useful,” adds a fellow law student. “He’s not doing it for money reasons. He’s very curious. He’s interested and open. He’s much more comfortable with black people, for instance, than your average kid of his world.”

Before John ever appeared at the Brooklyn Family Court as a student lawyer, Joseph A. Esquirol Jr., the supervising judge, worried that the court would come to a stop. He recalls thinking that “every woman will leave her desk to come see him. “I couldn’t have that,” Esquirol says, so he called his court staff together. “Don’t make it any worse for him,” he told them. “Try not to drool till he’s gone. I want to give the young man a chance to grow in his profession. He has a right to that.”

* * *

Drooling stenographers aren’t the only obstacle Kennedy faces. “How would you feel, if you were a thirteen-year-old arrested for a chain-snatch, if the son of a president was your lawyer?” asks Esquirol, who has presided over three designated-felony cases in which Kennedy appeared. Says a fellow law student, “[Who he is] comes up all the time. John presses it away and goes on.”

NYU officials and teachers will not discuss Kennedy’s grades, but Esquirol gives him high marks. “I don’t know that he’s the best or the worst,” the judge says. “I don’t envy him one minute. I think he can cut it if he’s allowed to practice without pressure. He’s got the innate common sense, ability, anti presence. He knew what he was doing and why he was doing it.” Esquirol pauses. “If I was a father, I wouldn’t be disappointed to have him as a son.”

John’s work with the underprivileged and disabled, his experience bridging the public and private sectors, his inquisitive mind, sense of obligation, and determination to avoid the obvious, a quick run for elective office, reveal a commendable sense of purpose. “He makes good decisions, not facile ones,” says Stevelman. “He makes a point not to make broad decisions about life.” It’s not that he won’t want our votes eventually. He just doesn’t want them now, when all he would be is JFK II. But John F. Kennedy Jr. will always be America’s son, and that’s a hurdle he’ll face for the rest of his life. “I honestly think,” says one friend, “in 100 years, they’ll say that whatever he did, he succeeded not because he was John F. Kennedy Jr. but in spite of it.”.

By Michael Gross Originally published in the March 20, 1989 issue of New York Magazine

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