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thisweekingundamwing · 3 years

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This Week in Gundam Wing 23-29 May 2021

I’m so on the ball with this lately... >_> Sorry. Here’s this week’s roundup! May 23rd - 29th!

Remember to give your content creators some love! Be sure to join in on the events at the bottom! And remember to send in any new works you see or make next week!

~Mod Hel

Fanfiction/Snippets/AU Ideas:

@bobo-is-tha-bomb

The Preventer Calendar https://archiveofourown.org/works/31561295

Gen, Reader, Heero Yuy, Duo Maxwell, Trowa Barton, Quatre Raberba Winner, Chang Wufei, Zechs Merquise, OC - Character

Mature, No Archive Warnings Apply, Humor, Partial Nudity, Reader-Insert, Nudity, A teeny hint of TrowaxReader, Rating because of some gratuitous nudity on Trowa's side

Twelve models, twelve shoots, twelve different locations in the Ardennes, and all of it in two fucking days. Because Preventer couldn’t spare you their agents any longer than that.

Why had you agreed to do this project again?

It's all for the arts.

boxofhatebrains

Helping Hand https://archiveofourown.org/works/31620146

M/M, Duo Maxwell/Heero Yuy

Explicit, No Archive Warnings Apply, Light Angst, Comfort/Angst, Minor Injuries, Implied/Referenced Blow Jobs, Not Gundam Wing: Frozen Teardrop Compliant, after series, Flirting, Not Beta Read, slight reference to Episode Zero, Swearing

Duo realizes that Heero comes around whenever he damn well feels like it. They’ve been in contact for the last seven years after the Mariemaia incident, but generally at Heero’s own whim. Duo stays in the same place, it’s Heero who gravitates.

This time is no different.

@duointherain

Silent Menace https://duointherain.tumblr.com/post/652120818915115009/fic-silent-menace-11

1x2x1

Warnings: Mute Duo. Drugged and injured Heero.

Une always had the dark side of the job. She’d let others give out goodness, but bad news she owned herself. Duo had come to the conclusion that she was trying to take responsibility, trying to be a decent person. He could vibe with that.

@lifeaftermeteor

Touched by the Stars (Ch. 7) https://archiveofourown.org/works/26314657/chapters/77885468

M/M, Chang Wufei/Duo Maxwell, Chang Wufei/Heero Yuy, Trowa Barton/Chang Wufei, Chang Wufei/Quatre Raberba Winner

Explicit, Choose Not To Use Archive Warnings, thar be porn, Dubious Consent, Aliens, Alien Abduction, Alternate Universe, mention of MPREG, everyone takes a turn with Wufei, alien anatomy and interesting dicks, Tentacles, Monster Boys, Slime, Double Cocks, Cum Inflation, Knotting, Oral, multiple dicks, Xeno, Spitroasting, Oviposition, Body Modification, Polyamory, Unbirthing, Triple Penetration, Cervical Penetration

University instructor Chang Wufei didn't even believe in aliens, much less intentionally attract their attention. But that doesn't mean much when they decided he'd be the ideal final mate for their group and scoop him off of the planet to take home to their queen. Enjoying him on the trip there, of course.

@noirangetrois

Of the Sea (Ch. 10) https://archiveofourown.org/works/12749670/chapters/78205124

M/M, Duo Maxwell/Heero Yuy

Mature, No Archive Warnings Apply, fairytale my way, Meroctopus!Dorothy, Slow Burn, Multi POV, POV Third Person Limited, merman au, MerMay, Fantasy Politics, mentions of abuse, Unnatural November

Heero Yuy will soon be reaching the age of majority, at which time he will ascend the throne of Wingaria. Before such time, he must needs choose a bride. But what if there are no good choices? What if someone else has captured his heart?

The Story of Wrong (Ch. 8) https://archiveofourown.org/works/13849020/chapters/77856332

M/M, Duo Maxwell/Heero Yuy

Explicit, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Duo POV, Angst, Drama, Tragedy, Spoilers, very dark, Heero and Duo don’t die, I promise, Yaoi, slowburn, Mental Instability, Mental Health Issues, Mental Breakdown, If those are in any way an issue for you then go ahead and skip this, Eventual Smut, VERY eventual, this is mostly canon-compliant but I’ve changed a couple things here and there

Duo recounts his experiences during the war in order to explain… well, why he was wrong.

simulacraryn

love me like (tomorrow we’re) stardust https://archiveofourown.org/works/31458119/chapters/77811359

M/F, Treize Khushrenada/Lady Une

Treize Khushrenada, Lady Une, Original Characters, Hot Dog (gundam wing)

Explicit, Choose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Angst, Near Death Experiences, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, unredeemable villain, Sex, Smut, consent is fucking sexy, Spoiler: He wore the Astro Suit at last!, Newtypes (Gundam Wing), no predators or prey here, intact brains

The World Nation would face off against the White Fang to bring about an end to all conflict between the Colonies and Earth. The plan had called for the bitter end of the last bastion of the old regime, Treize Khushrenada. However, as with every play on the stage of war, the actors have chosen to adlib. Effectively throwing the course of history off the rails, the director finds himself faced with a new road to choose.

@zaganthi

Jiu Jie https://archiveofourown.org/works/31413956

M/M, M/F, Duo Maxwell/Quatre Raberba Winner; Treize Khushrenada/Quatre Raberba Winner; Treize Khushrenada/Duo Maxwell; Duo Maxwell/Hilde Schbeiker

Explicit, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Relationship Negotiation; Polyamorous Character; Quatre Raberba’s Uchuu no Kokoro | Space Heart; Aged-Up Character(s); Newtypes (Gundam Wing); Past Relationship(s); Jealousy; Awkward Flirting; Bathing/Washing; Cuddling & Snuggling; Museums; talking about feelings; Psychic Bond; Dealing with exes; Ex Sex; Colonists exploring earth

Hilde waved goodbye as she left and Duo went to look for Treize and Quatre. What the hell was wrong with him. His body seemed to be saying yes but his mind was definitely not in that space at all. What the everlasting hell was going on. He wanted to see her again but why?

Treize passed him a picture of tree frogs, apparently feeling the confusion as Duo half jogged through the aquarium to catch back up. What the hell. Just what the hell.

It took him a while to get there, but the moment he got close, Quatre saw him, beamed a happy smile and the link opened up with a rush and he was surrounded again in emotional warmth. It was addictive and a relief, and there wasn’t, there wasn’t any recrimination from either of them. Just run off and see an old flame, it’s cool, we’ll be here when you get back vibes.

Lebensmüde https://archiveofourown.org/works/31413278

M/M, Duo Maxwell/Quatre Raberba Winner; Treize Khushrenada/Quatre Raberba Winner; Treize Khushrenada/Duo Maxwell

Explicit, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Aged-Up Character(s); Quatre Raberba’s Uchuu no Kokoro | Space Heart; Newtypes (Gundam Wing); Preventers (Gundam Wing); Cameos; Therapy; Aftermath of Torture; Aftermath of Violence; Rape Aftermath; Physical Disability; Gratuitous Smut; Psychic Bond; Psychic Abilities; Domestic; Injury Recovery

Treize remembered the discussion of gunpowder residue on his head; it was one of the things John had been livid about after everything, and unable to explain any more than Treize had at the time. Seeing it written down… was something else. Treize closed the book over his finger, gently tapping it on his thigh as he looked up at Quatre.

“The first hot chocolate of the season,” Quatre said sitting down next to him, comfort flowing over the link. “I really wanted something sweet.” He paused. “I can feel something is…oh.” He noticed the book in Treize’s hand.

“Adding to the list of things we need to probably talk about,” he said quietly, contemplating it as he reached with his other hand to take the cocoa. “Have you written everything up?”

Fanart/Crafts/Photo Manips:

@2pcbart

https://archiveofourown.org/works/31618103

Recollect - Trowa/WuFei, comic style

@alphaikaros

https://alphaikaros.tumblr.com/post/651358650733150208/little-angry-boi

WuFei Chang, fanart

@bettertasting

https://bettertasting.tumblr.com/post/652303436314017792/something-spicy-for-the-dash-im-really-digging

Heero/Duo, fanart, nsfw

@bobo-is-tha-bomb

https://bobo-is-tha-bomb.tumblr.com/post/652089738925359104/%F0%9D%98%9B%F0%9D%98%A9%F0%9D%98%AA%F0%9D%98%B4-%F0%9D%98%AA%F0%9D%98%B4-%F0%9D%98%97%F0%9D%98%B3%F0%9D%98%A6%F0%9D%98%B7%F0%9D%98%A6%F0%9D%98%AF%F0%9D%98%B5%F0%9D%98%A6%F0%9D%98%B3-%F0%9D%98%9E%F0%9D%98%AA%F0%9D%98%AF%F0%9D%98%A5-%F0%9D%98%A4%F0%9D%98%A2%F0%9D%98%AD%F0%9D%98%AD%F0%9D%98%AA%F0%9D%98%AF%F0%9D%98%A8-zechs-merquise

Tallgeese, gunpla

https://bobo-is-tha-bomb.tumblr.com/post/652448694036316160/sd-wing-gundam-ew

Wing, gunpla

@judaru

https://judaru.tumblr.com/post/651257960922857472/im-20-years-late-but-ive-been-reading-a-lot-of

Duo Maxwell, fanart

@keiko1183

https://keiko1183.tumblr.com/post/652327422940807168/completed-with-pencils-might-be-doing-the-acrylics

Trowa/Quatre, fanart

@not-so-dead-fandoms

https://not-so-dead-fandoms.tumblr.com/post/651085636504272896/mermay-01

Heero Yuy, fanart

https://not-so-dead-fandoms.tumblr.com/post/651494132071661568/mermay-02-duo-as-a-betta-fish-merlad

Duo Maxwell, fanart

https://not-so-dead-fandoms.tumblr.com/post/652283083819810816/mermay-03-of-course-i-made-trowa-a-clownfish

Trowa Barton, fanart

@pineappleglazedham

https://pineappleglazedham.tumblr.com/post/651759824584966144

Trieze/Une, fanart, fanfiction, playlist

Photosets/Gifsets/Screenshots/Manga Pages:

@clair-audients

https://clair-audients.tumblr.com/post/652114120696594432

Wing & Altron, gif

@disturbed02girl

https://disturbed02girl.tumblr.com/post/617456995130294273/thoughtful-quatre-thursday

Quatre, manga page

@meggie-stardust

https://meggie-stardust.tumblr.com/post/652350439669547008/same-energy

Epyon is an icon.

Fandom Discourse:

@bobo-is-tha-bomb

https://bobo-is-tha-bomb.tumblr.com/post/651423437954433024/a-homage-to-the-reader-insert

Reader Insert Homage

@cuteciboulette

https://cuteciboulette.tumblr.com/post/652076342033170432/shinigamis-coming-to-town-d-duo-just

Duo Maxwell, doujinshi

Quotes:

@incorrectgundamwingquotes

https://incorrectgundamwingquotes.tumblr.com/post/652102805897805825/in-the-groupchat-trowa-why-tf-do-we-have-20

Trowa & WuFei

https://incorrectgundamwingquotes.tumblr.com/post/652356366558806016/heero-yeah-but-as-far-as-plans-go-this-is-not-a

Heero & Quatre

https://incorrectgundamwingquotes.tumblr.com/post/651830976331251712/duo-gesturing-to-heero-dont-worry-weve-got-an

Duo, Heero, & WuFei

Calendar Events:

@gundamzine

Rhythm Generation 2021

Meet the Mods: https://gundamzine.tumblr.com/post/636708854145613824/come-on-over-a-meet-your-2021-zine-mod-team-head

Check out the blog for the Zine schedule!

@gundam-wing-pride

Gundam Wing Pride 2k21 https://gundam-wing-pride.tumblr.com/post/648237909672083456/incoming-transmission-faq

A Beautiful Rainbow of Prompts https://gundam-wing-pride.tumblr.com/post/649898271517573120/a-beautiful-rainbow-of-prompts

@gwartserver

Month of WuFei https://gwartserver.tumblr.com/post/649995521569767424/month-of-wufei

Shooting Stars (online convention) https://gwartserver.tumblr.com/post/650013463432888320/once-upon-a-time-lifeaftermeteor-and-myself

@gwcocktailfriday

Cocktail Fridays!

Post responses on Friday, during Happy Hour between 3 & 5 pm in your own timezone.

Here’s the prompt for Friday, !

In need of Summer/Fall(Autumn) prompts!

(I’ll um... fix these when I have time to find more prompts.)

@gwlemonyshenanigans

May 23rd’s Submissions https://gwlemonyshenanigans.tumblr.com/post/651999227800600576/may-23rd-submission

May 24th’s Submissions https://gwlemonyshenanigans.tumblr.com/post/652131130827571200/may-24th-submissions

May 25th’s Submissions https://gwlemonyshenanigans.tumblr.com/post/652252350922342400/may-25th-submissions

May 26th’s Submissions https://gwlemonyshenanigans.tumblr.com/post/652312096032342016/may-26th-submissions

May 27th’s Submissions https://gwlemonyshenanigans.tumblr.com/post/652433653693136896/may-27th-submissions

May 28th’s Submissions https://gwlemonyshenanigans.tumblr.com/post/652434486286548992/may-28th-submission

May 29th’s Submissions https://gwlemonyshenanigans.tumblr.com/post/652648408588353536/may-29th-submissions

Friday Spotlight! https://gwlemonyshenanigans.tumblr.com/post/652439213602684928/the-lastspotlight-friday

@oztober-rust

Welcome to Oztober Rust

We’re an up and coming Gundam Wing event with a slight twist! This page is still a work in progress, but you’re welcome to join us over on discord and get a feel for the event.

Have discord, will fan. https://oztober-rust.tumblr.com/post/647568110262566912/i-see-a-nice-and-steady-following-we-do-have-a

@seasons-of-gundamwing

Summer Event Voting https://seasons-of-gundamwing.tumblr.com/post/646220556727877633/seasons-of-gundamwing-okay-wingers-its-time-to

@thisweekingundamevents

Events Calendar https://thisweekingundamevents.tumblr.com/post/644080386309275648/events-calendar-update

If you are hosting an event currently, or are planning on one, hit us up with links and dates! We’ll add them to the Calendar and reblog your notices to get the word out!

#Gundam Wing #This Week in Gundam Wing #Weekly Roundup #23-29 May 2021 #(it's late again... but not as late as my last one)

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dracosearlgreytea · 4 years

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indelicate marks (11)

indelicate marks: chapter eleven - the accusation

A/N: aaa okay so heres the next chapter! ive been lowkey stressed about posting this chapter as it took a lot to write, but i hope you enjoy it.. thank you so so so much for the increased support from everyone, if i havent replied to a comment dw i do read them! they literally transform my day no matter how i feel, so yeah just thank you. lotsa love - ivy

warnings: language, strong descriptions of ptsd/reliving bad memories, graphic descriptions of deep cuts and bleeding

lovely tags: @h-annahayy @okaydraco @fanficflaneuse @thatoneasrastan @biinspiration @honeymelon22

indelicate marks index

January and February, after the first meeting of the year, passed by quiet. Draco's state was getting worse. Every time you'd see him, even when you'd met twice a week, something about him was growing... darker. Sometimes it wasn't just the bags under his eyes, or the sharpness of his cheekbones. Sometimes it was the way his tone never lifted out of the monotonous state he tended to abandon around you. Sometimes it was the way he could hardly hold a conversation, or the anxiety would overwhelm him and you'd have to sit with him tucked into your chest, praying that his breathing would settle soon. But, somehow, within the misery that hung over the two of you, you also managed to find the friend you had waited so long for. Draco was funny. Dry, and witty, and frustratingly funny. The things that he'd say as a passing comment could make you double over in laughter. You'd always find his lips shooting up into that wicked grin you'd grown to adore. That smile was something you'd find few and far between, and its rarity only settled it closer to your heart. He was smart, too - a lot less stupid that he made himself out to be. Draco could easily give Granger a run for her money, if he wanted to. He had a secret passion for Muggle literature. Something, which you found out totally by mistake - and continued to bring up at any given opportunity just to annoy him. To your utter shock, Draco also played piano. He'd described an organ, back in Malfoy Manor. His parents would usually enchant to play by itself - but, his mother had still taken it upon herself to teach him how to play it when he was a child. The insights he offered you into his life were quite frankly fascinating. It was still odd. The dynamic between you was never quite settled; impermanent. There were little things you found yourself holding onto. Like his smile, or the way he frowned when he listened to you talk, as though he was really focusing on your words. Since your realisation at the beginning of the year, your affections for Draco had only grown. Most of the time, you'd manage to ignore it, only swallowing back the flutters in your chest. Because there was no way you could fancy Draco Malfoy. There was no way he would ever reciprocate, and there was no way it could ever work between you even if he did. And, it was nice. Being friends with someone. You could cope with the darkness he carried. You could cope with pushing away any indication of your developing attachment to him. Having someone to talk to, to even just be around - complicated or not - was a privilege you had never had. But, as much as you attempted to ignore it, the tension at Hogwarts was also getting a lot worse. Trying not to think about what would happen when you had to return home at the end of the year was difficult. Even the idea of having that mark on your arm was sickening. You didn't even want to acknowledge the fact that to take it, you would have to expose the mark that already sat on your forearm. Most likely, to the Dark Lord himself. The glares got worse. The comments got more threatening. Walking the corridors was not safe for you. Not when your parents had killed so many families of the students around you. It hadn't exactly been before, but now, with that suffocating atmosphere, it had only gotten worse. Keeping a firm grip on your wand at all times was second nature, at this point. You had been on your way to a meeting with Draco when your fears became too real. The feeling of someone following you had been tugging at your conscious for most of the day. But then, most people were watching you, anyway, eyes lingering on you in every hall or classroom you passed through. So, you'd only shrugged it off as your paranoia overreacting. It was still light. With winter beginning to pass, the nights were growing shorter. Weekly trips to the classroom were no longer spent in the dark, much to your appreciation. Just as you reached the last staircase leading to the third floor, it jumped into action. It swung away from your destination, and you ground your teeth, hanging onto the railings. Again, you only passed your mistake off as a busy mind - until you glanced behind you. The previous staircase had also moved. A distinct dread began to poison your gut. With the piece of staircase behind you gone, your only choice was to progress onto wherever this one would take you. You swallowed, staring up as the stairs docked. It lead onto a one-way corridor, a piece of the castle that was rarely used, and a quiver ran over your hand as you wrapped your fingers around your wand. Slipping it from your back pocket, you finally shifted. Someone wanted you in that corridor. Someone wanted you cornered. The second you stepped off of the stairs, it jolted away from you, only confirming your assumption. Stranded in the corridor, the lack of windows cast an eerie shadow down its length. There was only two classrooms coming off the sides, and one at the end - most likely locked, with a spell more powerful than 'alohamora' would fix. Edging forwards, you flung your eyes around you. Your heart was thudding dangerously in your chest - it was currently dinner. No one would be around to help if something happened, assuming anyone would help you. Draco was unlikely to come searching for you if you turned up late, waiting on the opposite side of the moving staircases. You only hoped you could reach the stairs before something bad could happen to you. Pausing, your eyes met the end doorway. It was ajar. You pressed yourself against the wall as you shifted closer - the opening only offered to show you a slice of darkness within. Someone could be, however, waiting for you inside. Hoping your curiosity would get the better of you. Preparing to jump you. Setting your wand upright and poised, you lifted your hand, before shoving the door open. Only, before you could get a glimpse inside, it had slammed shut in your face. You stumbled back a couple steps, true panic setting in. "Was it you?" A voice came from behind you. You'd walked straight into a trap. Taking in a shuddering breath, you spun to face the voice. A flicker of your brow, and you stared at the figure blocking the end of the corridor. "Potter?" He had emerged from one of the classrooms either side of you, wand clenched in his fist and eyes hard. Stupid, you're so stupid, you should have checked. "Was it you, Y/N?" Harry repeated, watching you with an unpredictable atmosphere to him. "Did you curse the necklace?" It took a second for any words to form on your lips. Your mind was going to into overdrive. Harry would not hurt you intentionally, you knew that much - he wasn't that type of person. But what he could do unintentionally... "I don't know what you're talking about." You said. Attempting to appeal to whatever friendship you'd had last year, you kept your voice as clear and honest as you could. Harry, however, did not shift. "It was you, or Malfoy." His voice lilted with questioning, and your jaw tightened. You had to remind yourself to keep breathing, act natural, even at the mention of Draco. Shit, what the fuck has Draco been doing? I know it's bad - it's the Dark Lord - but Merlin, if Harry is involved... "I said," You forced an eyebrow up at Harry in emphasis. "I don't know what you're talking about." Voice gruff, relief flooded through you. You'd managed to keep your composition. There was a million scenarios involving Draco running through your mind, and you bit back a shudder. "Then prove you're not one of them." Shit. Harry had gestured to your arm with his wand. You grew rigid in terror, a shaking whisper falling from your lips before you could swallow it back. "What?" "Show me your arm, and prove to me you're not a Deatheater." Harry said, voice a lot more forceful than before. No, no. No, this can't be happening - he wouldn't - he can't - "I don't have to prove anything to you, Potter." You spat - but there was no denying the quiver in your words. Sickness curling in the pit of your stomach, you clutched your wand, scrutinising Harry's every little movement. He shifted. It was so, so slight. Maybe he was moving towards you, maybe he was only adjusting his stance. It didn't matter, because before you could think, you raised your wand and shouted the first thing that came to mind. "Stupify-" "Expelliarmus!" You could only watch in utter horror as your wand flew through the air and clattered to the ground. All the way at the other end of the corridor. Behind Harry. No, no, no- You couldn't move. Frozen. It was as though you were in that cupboard again. Crushed against the wall, watching as two boys enchanted a blade and laughed at the way you choked for breath. "It's okay, Deatheater. You're going to get your mark soon." Harry was moving towards you now. You stumbled, falling back against the door, hands coming to press down on the handle. Locked. No escape. Breathing frantic, you could only stare at Harry with wide, angry eyes. You didn't speak as he grabbed your left arm, pulling it out in front of you. No, you didn't even struggle. You were still in that fucking broom cupboard. Harry's fingers burnt horribly against your skin, pushing up your sleeve. His eyes lingered on you as he did so, long enough to make your skin crawl. Then, he looked down. It burnt. Burnt, as though Harry had struck a match and put it to your flesh. He came to stare at you again, falling a few strides away from you as you snatched your arm back to your chest. You wanted to shout - no, scream at him, but you could do nothing but hold in the gasps of pain. Harry hadn't seen the blood. He hadn't seen the way the cuts had began to tear open, slowly. Excruciatingly. "Get the fuck away from me." It was hardly a whisper - more some inhuman, animalistic snarl. It was all you could manage. The flames were growing hotter and hotter and you'd forgotten how to breath. My wand. I need my wand. "Y/N - I'm so sorry - I-" "Go!" Something in Harry managed to click, seeing your contorted expression. With one last, horrified look, he turned and rushed away, the stairs swinging back to greet him as he did. The second he was out of sight, you let out a shuddering breath, daring a glance down to the state of your arm. Blood was already spilling down your fingers. It seeped into the fabric of your shirt, like the sea lapping at the shore - but bloodier, and a lot more sickening. "How does it feel to bleed, Deatheater? I bet you're fucking enjoying it, you sicko, just like your parents did." An involuntary whimper escaped you, unable to contain it with your mind so hazy from panic and pain. Agony was lacing its way up your arm and through your entire body, and you had to remind yourself - your wand. I need my wand. Staggering forward, you focused your gaze on your wand at the end of the corridor. Blood was spilling steadily onto floor, staining your shirt, but you refused to acknowledge it. Groans escaped your throat, scalding pain cutting deeper and deeper into your skin. Feeling the liquid thick on your hands, you, almost instinctively, gave it another look. Your entire sleeve was coated in red. An overwhelming nausea hit your gut. Falling against the wall, you desperately attempted to get your breath, but it only came in short pants. You'd barely made it halfway down the corridor. Harry had taken too long to leave, given the cuts too much time to reopen before the worst kicked in. Last time, with Draco, the reaction had been quick and easy. This time, you were alone, and wandless. Head spinning, you attempted to choke down a deep breath, and pushed forward. Everything was starting to blur a little, your head a spinning mess of thoughts. You couldn't focus. Tired. You felt so tired. You were close. You were so close to grabbing your wand, hands slick with blood as you stretched out your arm, shaking. Another step - a stumble. Your entire body crashed to floor. There was a terrible, harsh blow to the side of your head. Your ears filled with a high buzzing, sight wavering as you stared from your wand only inches away from you, to your left arm. Ten letters, red and clear. Tears rolled down your cheeks, but you didn't recognise them. It hurt, it hurt so bad, you couldn't think, couldn't breath. It was all a blur, really. A blur of torments and whispers. A blur of blade against skin. "Deatheater." "Y/N? Y/N-"

#draco x you #draco malfoy #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy x reader #draco x reader #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy angst #harry potter fanfiction

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perfeggso · 3 years

Text

Noir (yutae)

Week IV pt. 1

Tokyo – fall of 1983: Nakamoto Yuta is quickly rising in the ranks of one of Japan’s most notorious yakuza families, and he’s poised to climb even further if he can stop himself from being ruined by the pretty Korean boy who’s shown up out of nowhere.

Glossary of Japanese words

Characters: Yuta x Taeyong + NCT ensemble, Twice J-line (for funsies)

Genres: Gang!AU, angst, smut, fluff, 1980s!AU

Warnings: graphic violence, swearing, minor character death, alcohol use, mentions of drugs, period-typical homophobia, xenophobia, BDSM

Rating: 18+

Length: 7k

“Okay,” said Yuta, “this is the last time I’ll ask – I promise. You’re sure I didn’t scare you last night?”

Taeyong sat in the passenger side of Yuta’s car, waiting in the pick-up area at Narita International Airport the morning after their first night together, listening to "4:00AM" by Taeko Onuki. He rolled his eyes.

“Yuta,” he began, “if I was going to be scared of you – which I am not, by the way – it wouldn’t be because you startled me when you yelled in the middle of the night, I can tell you that much.”

The night before, Taeyong had fallen asleep in Yuta’s arms; tired, sated, and oh so happy. His little bundle of positivity only unwound when he was shaken rudely awake in the early hours of the morning by Yuta screaming. It didn’t last for long, partially because Taeyong had used all the wits he could gather to coo over Yuta, calming him down and easing his tension, but it had been disturbing, nonetheless. When Taeyong felt like he’d waited a sufficiently long time for Yuta to regain his bearings, he’d ventured to ask what was the matter. All Yuta could put into words was that he’d had a bad dream, and that for as long as he could remember, his bad dreams could sometimes get horrifying or tangible enough to make him react quite violently in the real world, and he was sorry. Taeyong didn’t press him on what that particular dream was about, but it must have been quite upsetting. Who knew what kinds of things Yuta had seen in his life for his unconscious brain to draw upon? Anyway, the next morning Yuta couldn’t stop the incident from preoccupying him, apparently very worried that it would somehow make him less desirable or something. Taeyong was having none of it.

Yuta sighed as he sank farther into the driver’s seat, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. Taeyong felt a little pang of guilt that he might have insinuated that maybe he should fear Yuta for other, non-nightmare-related reasons. But like he said, he didn’t. He didn’t fear Yuta even though he’d watched him kill another man with his own eyes. Yuta was too sweet and odd, too predictably human, and made him feel too good to scare him.

“Okay, good. It just happens sometimes. Haven’t figured out how to control it yet,” Yuta said. He switched the topic. “How’s your ass, by the way?” Taeyong smiled to himself.

“It’s fine, but you did bruise me a tiny bit.”

Now it was Yuta smiling. “Sorry.” He didn’t seem very sorry, though. “Don’t Change” by INXS started to play over the radio.

“I don’t care,” Taeyong admitted. “I like a little reminder of who made me feel like this.”

“Good,” said Yuta. “Next time I’ll mark you up deliberately.”

Taeyong’s breath caught in his throat. Should they even be talking about this on the job? Wasn’t Yuta worried about being distracted? Still, he filed Yuta’s promise away in his mind so he could hold him to his word.

“You wanted tattoos, anyway,” Yuta teased. “I can give you the low commitment version.”

“You’re kinda corny sometimes, you know?” Taeyong said, causing Yuta to splutter laughter.

“Yeah,” he confessed, “I know.” He turned to regard Taeyong with a smile.

Taeyong hadn’t brought anything with him last night to change into for the next day, so (with permission!) he’d raided Yuta’s closet. Taeyong wouldn’t have minded wearing his clothes from the night before – they weren’t particularly slutty and no one he’d be seeing today had seen him in them the previous night – but they still smelled pretty bad from all the sweat and spilled alcohol lodged in their threads. Instead, Taeyong got to smell like Yuta.

He wore a Bauhaus t-shirt, black jeans, and a gray blazer with a little gold pin with the Inagawa-kai logo on it attached to the lapel. Yuta wore the same one on his black, patent-leather peacoat. He had paired that with black aviator sunglasses for a truly eye-catching combination. Taeyong thought it was funny that Yuta seemed incapable of not dressing like a mobster.

Before Yuta could say whatever he was about to, a blue BMW pulled up right next to them and rolled down the window, revealing Taeil in the driver’s seat and Mark by his side. Taeil was yelling something Taeyong couldn’t hear over the sound of departing airplanes, and apparently Yuta couldn’t understand it either because he yelled back for Taeil to repeat himself.

“What?” Taeil asked instead.

“He’s wondering if you’ve gotten any updates!” Mark repeated.

“No!” Yuta responded. “And why are you double-parking me? Just pull up a little!”

Taeil obliged and parked in front of Yuta and Taeyong, getting out once he’d cut the engine and walking to Yuta’s window. Yuta turned off the radio.

“Why do you need an update?” he asked.

Taeil rested his hands on the car door. “Because,” he explained, “Mark was hanging around headquarters and really wanted to come even though I kept telling him that if they brought more than one extra person with them I would not hesitate to leave him at the airport.”

“Why didn’t you just say no?” Yuta inquired.

“Because I thought he’d tell you I said no and then you’d be annoyed.”

Taeyong sat there as this whole interaction played out, watching Mark watch them from Taeil’s car. It seemed like Mark got a lot of preferential treatment. Not that Taeyong could talk.

“Alright,” said Yuta. “It’s not a problem. I don’t have any reason to believe there will be more people with Kun than he said.”

Taeil clapped his hands over the car door a couple of times. “Okay, just checking. Shategashira ?”

“Yeah?”

“ Would you have been annoyed with me?”

Yuta pondered the question for a minute, eyes dancing around the cabin of his car. “Probably,” he eventually admitted, smiling and looking at Taeil out of the corner of his eye.

“Knew it!”

Part of Taeyong wanted to know what Yuta’s deal was with Mark, scared the curiosity might be coming from a place of burgeoning jealousy. Taeyong was over the moon about his relationship with Yuta, but sometimes he cursed his own decision making. His infatuations always stressed him out terribly, and his situation was already stressful enough.

He watched as a group of well-dressed men exited the door Kun and his people were supposed to be emerging from. Yuta and Taeil were still talking – something to do with their meeting preparations, no doubt – and hadn’t seemed to notice the new arrivals in the pickup area.

“Is that them?” Taeyong asked.

Yuta and Taeil both snapped their heads in the direction Taeyong was pointing. Yuta blinked.

“Yeah,” he confirmed. “It is.”

“How many were there supposed to be?” Taeyong asked as a follow-up.

“Seven,” Taeil answered this time. “They brought two extras with them. Fuck.”

“Looks like someone’s going in the trunk,” Yuta joked.

Taeyong and Yuta got out of the car, walking over to the Triads with Taeil and Mark, who’d finally stepped out onto the curb. Taeyong thought he caught Mark giving him a once-over, perhaps registering the presence of Yuta’s clothing on his body.

“I thought I told you to stay at your post,” Yuta scolded.

Mark shrugged. “I thought this was a special occasion.”

The Triads were more inconspicuous than the Inagawa-kai usually were, their tall builds and dark clothing lending them all an appearance more akin to a celebrity and his bodyguards (although who the celebrity was could be up to interpretation) than to a group of criminals.

Kun, or at least the man Taeyong assumed was Kun, stood at the front of a near perfect triangle of his men, a relaxed confidence defining his features.

Kun and Yuta acknowledged each other with a bow.

“ Shategashira , good to see you,” Kun greeted.

“ Fu Shan Chu , the honor’s all mine.”

Taeyong didn’t know what Kun’s title meant, but he had a feeling Yuta wasn’t pronouncing it very well. Not that he could have done any better. As Taeil and Mark quickly extended their own greetings, Taeyong prayed a silent ‘thank you’ that the Triads all spoke Japanese; he didn’t need to be any more confused than he already was basically nonstop. Although after a moment of thought, he realized this made perfect sense considering these men had been hand-picked to attend an important business meeting (if you could call it a “business meeting”) in Japan.

“Taeyong,” Yuta began, the indulgent tone Taeyong had grown more and more used to him using when they were together overtaking his voice, “I want you to meet some dear friends.”

Kun introduced himself first as a Deputy, second in command of his syndicate and in charge of international business; then came Sicheng, a skilled tracker and fighter despite his lithe build; followed by Ten, the Hong Kong liaison for the group’s Thai offshoot who explained by way of introduction that, since no one could ever pronounce his real name, he went by ‘Ten’ for the number of people he’d personally “interrogated” by the time he decided he needed a nickname (“but now I’ve lost count”). The three of them were followed by Yukhei, a tall Hong Kong native and self-described yes-man for Ten; Dejun, who kept his introduction succinct but fixed an almost manic positive energy on Taeyong the whole time he spoke; Kunhang, the “Macanese Snoop,” whatever that meant; and Yangyang who once worked for the Taiwanese Triads and was in charge of smuggling since he used to do it between West and East Germany for some reason Taeyong didn’t quite catch. The seven men were able to pack so much information into their introductions because they kept jumping in on each other’s sentences, adding information they deemed pertinent about their friends seemingly as a way of hyping one another up.

Once the seven men in front finished, Yuta peaked exaggeratedly to the back of the group to address the stragglers.

“And you two, it seems to me, are none other than Zhong Chenle and Huang Renjun, all grown up now, hm?” The pair smiled mischievously at each other. They wore almost schoolboy-like suits that looked a little too expensive to be trusted in the hands of a late teen or early twenty-something, as they appeared to be.

“Hello Yuta-san,” they each chimed, a bit out of synch.

“I can tell that you’ve aged too, Shategashira,” quipped the shorter of the two. The taller joined in.

“Yeah, please make sure you’re getting enough sleep, sir.” Chenle and Renjun tittered as the Triads rolled their eyes and Kun shot them an absolutely lethal glare.

“I’d be careful if I were you,” Mark jested from over Taeyong’s left shoulder. “You’re on Yuta’s turf now and I can promise from experience you don’t want to see him pissed. Can’t run to your daddies here.”

Now it was Chenle rolling his eyes. “Shut the fuck up, Mark,” he said, and Mark cackled in amusement.

“Thank you, Mark,” Taeil interjected, a cautious impatience practically dripping from his voice. “I think our Shategashira can defend himself.”

“Great!” said Yuta, trying to regain control of the interaction. Taeyong was starting to get nervous because they were all still standing out in the open outside one of Narita’s many exits, and it wouldn’t have taken that much imagination on the part of an onlooker to identify them as a group of gangsters. Yuta didn’t seem nervous though, so Taeyong pushed his anxiety as far down as he could until it was nearly imperceptible. Yuta leaned closer to him a bit as he aimed to guide Taeyong through their ongoing introductions.

“Those two meiwaku are the sons of Triad commanders. They’re completely spoiled, as you can see.” Taeyong almost giggled, amused by the amount of time Yuta seemed to spend getting bullied by people who were barely out of high school. Yuta continued. “So that’s everyone,” he concluded, pulling away from Taeyong.

“I’m humbled to meet you all,” Taeyong said, brain overloaded for the hundredth time in a month by all the new faces and by Yuta’s proximity.

Yuta brushed his finger over Taeyong’s sleeve. It was a small movement and he doubted anyone else saw, but Taeyong had to suppress the heat threatening to overtake his face. Yuta never got into the personal space of his subordinates while conducting business, but then again, Taeyong was an exception in more ways than one. He couldn’t decide if he was more irritated by Yuta messing with him or by his own oversensitivity.

“You don’t have to use kenjougo with them,” Yuta joked. “Polite language will do. They’re all younger than you, anyway.”

Taeyong balked. He knew that Chenle and Renjun were young, but his tone hadn’t been meant for them. And he thought Yuta was a prodigy...

“You want to introduce yourself, Taeyong?” Yuta suggested.

“Oh, right! Hello, my name is Lee Taeyong and I’m sort of a member-in-training, I suppose. I’m helping Yuta prepare for your upcoming meeting.” Taeyong bowed, having rushed through his introduction, and he was glad no one could see his downcast eyes go wide when he felt Yuta’s palm just above the small of his back, guiding him upright. Could he not?

“Taeyong’s been a great asset to us lately,” said Yuta, and Taeyong thought he detected the tiniest hint of teasing in his words. “I trust you’ll all come to appreciate him as we have.”

Taeyong heard Taeil sigh from behind him. “We should be going,” he stated, “but I regret to inform you that one of the pipsqueaks is going to need to improvise in terms of seating on the way into the city. We were expecting fewer people.”

Kun smiled wryly. “Maybe I should have hired a professional driver,” he joked and Taeil stiffened in irritation. “But no,” he continued, “I understand. These two insisted last minute on a vacation to Tokyo and their fathers didn’t listen to my concerns about bringing them, so here we are. We’ll figure it out.”

“Shall we?” asked Yuta, turning on his heel towards the parked cars, and Kun made a hand motion that signaled for all the Triads to follow.

“You know,” said Taeil, as he watched Mark drop back in formation to share more personal greetings with some of his Triad buddies, “we could just put Mark in the trunk, and this wouldn’t be an issue. He did insist on joining after all.”

Mark turned his attention from Yukhei to Taeil and scowled. “If you do that, I’ll yell so loud you get pulled over and then I’ll say I’m being kidnapped by the yakuza,” he warned.

Ten sidled up to Mark and regarded him casually, a smirk forming on his face. “Uh-huh,” he said, “and what do you think the cops will make of that Irezumi on your wrist?”

“Shut up,” said Mark, seeming to resign himself to an uncomfortable ride back.

Taeyong and Yuta returned to their car, trailed by Ten, Kun, and a skittish Renjun who held a finger to his lips as he slipped into the middle seat in back. Taeyong paused in front of the vehicle for a moment, next to the passenger side door. He was fairly certain he wasn’t supposed to sit shotgun, considering he had the lowest rank of the five of them save Renjun. He looked at Yuta questioningly, expecting a word or gesture directing him to the back seats. Instead, Yuta nodded for Taeyong to enter where he was, so Taeyong opened the door and sat in front, trying to be small and invisible by moving as little as possible. Kun and Ten didn’t seem to question it.

“Thank you for choosing Inagawa chauffeur service,” Yuta said jokingly once everyone was inside. It took a moment to get going because Mark was trying to force Chenle into the trunk of Taeil’s car and Chenle responded by flailing and emitting a screech so high in pitch that Taeyong worried it might shatter all the windows of both cars.

“You’re a smart boy, Renjun,” Kun stated, “choosing to come in this car.”

“Yeah,” Ten chimed, “what would you have done if we tried to force you into the trunk?”

Renjun smirked. “I have a pocket knife on me and I’m not afraid to use it…” he explained in response, making everyone laugh. In front of them, Mark pouted as the trunk door finally closed over him. Taeyong caught a smile on Yuta’s face out of his peripheral vision as both car engines started.

***

Taeyong had only been to the “training room” at headquarters a couple of times before. The first time had been when Doyoung decided to nab him and teach him knife throwing, and the second was when Jaehyun asked him to hold arm pads for him to punch. The space was painted yellow from floor to ceiling and had harsh lighting and mold growing like shadows in the corners. One section had weights, mats, and boxing equipment set up next to a mirror; one, some knives and targets; and one, a table and small sitting area.

The Triads had only been in town a few hours and already, they seemed to be getting quite comfortable. When Taeyong had a moment of free time, Ten and a few others grabbed him without explanation and dragged him off to go “have some fun and get to know each other.” Apparently, that meant subjecting him to public mortification.

Sicheng had his arms wrapped around Taeyong’s midsection, bending him over and essentially demobilizing him. Taeyong breathed heavily, unable to do anything but struggle and watch the speckled floor under him shift along with his jerky movements.

“Sicheng, maybe go easy on him?” he heard Kunhang suggest from the table area, where some of the Triads were sat watching.

“I thought Inagawa was tougher than this,” Yangyang heckled, and Taeyong felt hot shame pile on top of his bodily discomfort.

Dejun piped up next. “He’s new, Yangyang, give him a break.”

Taeyong wanted to respond, but he was too busy trying to defend himself physically to do it verbally. Sicheng brought his knee up into Taeyong’s stomach, just hard enough to startle him without hurting him too badly. He used Taeyong’s disorientation to trip him, and next thing he knew, Taeyong was sore and heaving with his ass on the padded floor.

“Or don’t go easy on him,” Kunhang remarked. “Either way.”

Taeyong looked to his audience. Dejun, Kunhang, and Yangyang were all sitting around the table in the corner, a neglected game of poker which had started as a way of blowing off some competitive steam after “training” laid out between them. Ten stood a bit off to the side, arms crossed and gaze sharp with scrutiny. He took a couple of strides towards Taeyong and Sicheng, a smirk overtaking his mouth as he looked down at Taeyong like he was prey. Taeyong had met plenty of scary people in his life, and the frequency of such encounters had only increased since he started hanging around the yakuza, but Ten, with his wicked expressiveness and black leather suit in this moment gave Taeyong a chill of pure terror.

He noticed a movement out of the corner of his eye and turned his head to see it was Sicheng reaching his hand out to help Taeyong up. He smiled, face inviting and a welcome contrast to Ten’s entire aura. Taeyong took his hand and let Sicheng pull him to his feet.

“I thought you were supposed to be Yuta’s bodyguard,” Ten said plainly.

“Well, not exactly,” Taeyong tried to explain. “I just follow him around and keep a lookout for trouble; anything suspicious.”

Ten narrowed his eyes in a way Taeyong felt had to be partly for show. “That’s all, huh? Doesn’t sound like much.” Ten looked Taeyong head to toe and hummed thoughtfully. “Could there be another reason Yuta keeps you around?”

Jesus Christ, did everyone know? The room felt suddenly cold as Taeyong’s body came down from his previous exertion. He tried to suppress a shiver as his brain rushed to come up with a response. Thankfully, Sicheng stepped in.

“He knows how to fight, Ten, he’s just used to fighting brainless brutes.”

Taeyong nodded, hurrying to redeem himself. “Sicheng’s right,” he confirmed. “M’sorry.”

Ten let out a laugh through his nose. “No need to grovel,” he said, smile growing slightly less intimidating. He pushed a finger playfully into Taeyong’s shoulder, sending Taeyong’s mind reeling. “Anyway, I heard you saved Yuta from an assassin, so I’m in your corner. I’m just taking it upon myself to help you improve and make yourself even more useful.”

Taeyong laughed in confusion, spitting out a sarcastic, “gee, thanks.”

Dejun expelled a sound of wounded disappointment from behind Ten, certainly brought about by the poker game. Kunhang and Yangyang snickered. Ten ignored them all, keeping his attention trained on Taeyong. He raised an eyebrow and smiled, catlike.

“Wanna see something cool?”

“Sure?” Taeyong ventured, not sure if this was another way of saying “let’s have some fun and get to know each other.” He steadied his core in case Ten decided to tackle him or something.

Instead, Ten opened his leather jacket, giving his torso the effect of having bat wings. Taeyong was surprised, but not as surprised as he would have been a month ago, to see the glint of what had to be at least two dozen small metal weapons emanating from the lining.

“Shit…”

“Nice, huh?” Ten prompted, and Taeyong felt compelled to nod in agreement. Ten used his head to indicate the right side of his jacket, where he had stored a slew of small knives, brass knuckles, and throwing stars, among other things Taeyong didn’t recognize.

“This side is for hand to hand combat,” he explained, smiling like a snake about to bite. He indicated to his left next, where he had some longer and thicker knives, plyers, metal clamps, and a bouquet of slim needles, each about nine inches in length. “And this side is for extracting information.” Ten seemed to register Taeyong’s cautious surprise. “I only show you this so you know what you’re up against,” he cooed.

“Al-alright,” Taeyong almost swallowed his words. “I appreciate it.”

Before Ten could terrorize him any further, the door swung open and everyone was looking to see who had arrived. It was Yukhei, trailed by Yuta.

“Yup, they’re in here,” Yukhei was saying, holding the door open for Yuta to enter.

Yuta stalked towards Taeyong, Ten, and Sicheng and the boys at the corner table all stood in greeting.

“Ten,” Yuta said in mock disapproval, “are you traumatizing my poor partner?”

“I’d call it ‘educating,’” Ten responded. “If he gets traumatized that’s simply a byproduct of necessary learning.”

“Okay, Ten, just don’t scare him off,” Yuta replied.

“It’s not like I could leave if I wanted to,” Taeyong grumbled, and Yuta shot him a cutting look, but it softened quickly into an expression of vague sadness.

“Taeyong, you’re wanted in room 2A.”

Taeyong schooled his face. “Right away, Shategashira .”

Yuta turned on his heel and exited the room. Yukhei stayed by the door, Taeyong figured, because Ten needed him. Taeyong followed hesitantly after, but Yukhei stopped him on the way out, looming over him but smiling so genuinely that Taeyong felt more comforted than scared.

“If it’s any consolation,” Yukhei began, a thick accent coating his deep voice, “Sicheng kicks my ass all the time too.”

Taeyong had a hard time believing that considering Yukhei, though he was roughly the same height as Sicheng, was noticeably larger in every other way. He was probably either too nice or too reliant on blunt force. Taeyong let out a breathy laugh.

“Thanks. That does make me feel a bit better.”

“No problem.”

Taeyong left, hearing Ten’s call of “bye-bye, Taeyong! I’ll see you again soon!” echo down the hall after him. His stomach sank when he thought of the coldness he’d accidentally caused in Yuta, but the other man was nowhere to be found so he figured he’d just report where he was needed and find Yuta later.

Room 2A was one floor down. Taeyong tried to open it himself but it was locked, so he opted to bang on the metal to announce his presence. It opened, a grinning pair of faces belonging to Johnny and Mina greeting him on the other side.

“Yonggie!” Mina exclaimed, moving herself away from the entrance so Taeyong could pass her, which he did. “Welcome!”

The room was little more than a cinder block box with a metal chair in the center. If Taeyong didn’t trust Mina and Johnny at this point, he would be expecting something horrible to occur in such a room.

“What’s going on, you guys?” Taeyong asked.

Johnny closed the door and came to lean on the wall across from Taeyong.

“Why don’t you take a seat,” he suggested, and Taeyong did. “We’re here to impart on you some very valuable lessons.”

Taeyong grimaced. He was exhausted from what Sicheng had put him through and just wanted to find Yuta. He’d had enough “education” and “lessons” for one day. Nevertheless, he figured he had no choice but to indulge his captors.

“What lessons are those?” Taeyong asked, rocking himself slightly against his chair. Mina joined Johnny on the wall.

She answered, “Tactics for resisting interrogation.”

Taeyong started. “Whoa. Okay…”

“I know it sounds bad,” said Johnny, “but it’s really important for you to know. Yuta asked us to do this.”

Taeyong felt his skin prickling as he grew more nervous. Why didn’t Yuta just teach him himself, then? he wondered, posing the question out loud.

Johnny smirked. “Because, he has important shit to get done. He can’t tend to his Yonggie constantly. He has to delegate some of that.”

Taeyong gritted his teeth. “Alright, alright. But why do I need to know this? I’m practically useless so why would anyone bother kidnapping me?”

Johnny slid down the wall until he was crouching against it, his face softening in mild concern.

“First of all,” he said, “you should know you’re not useless, Taeyong.”

“Yeah!” Mina added. “He might give you a hard time, but Johnny keeps telling me how much he likes having you around.” Johnny smiled at this.

“You hang around with a Lieutenant all day!” he said, and Mina finished his sentiment with, “you are TOTALLY kidnappable, Taeyong!”

Taeyong laughed at the preposterousness of this compliment. “Thanks, guys. I’m sorry, I’m just in a bit of a mood today,” he explained. “And I guess you’re right.”

“Of course we are,” Johnny said, pushing back off the wall to standing. “Anyway, now that we’re all on the same page, this is where things might get a bit unpleasant again. We give this training to every member of the syndicate and all of our serious romantic partners, so contrary to your instincts, you are doubly in need of this.”

Taeyong squirmed, uncomfortable in a bad way over the fact that he wasn’t technically a syndicate member yet and uncomfortable in a good way at the knowledge that Yuta considered him serious .

Mina smiled. “Don’t worry, this has come in handy for me, for sure.”

“That just makes me worry more, you realize?” Taeyong replied with a grimace.

“Okay, fair enough. Sorry. But it’s better you know than end up dead or betraying your friends and boyfriend!”

“Taeyong,” Johnny began. “Let’s start with what you know. When you picture a yakuza kidnapping, what’s happening?”

Taeyong’s mind flew to the image of Ten’s sparkling and deadly bat wings. “I try not to picture that, but I saw what Ten carries around with him, so I think I have an idea.”

Johnny laughed hollowly as Mina watched him. “Yeah, Ten’s a special guy. I think he’s the only person I’ve met who genuinely enjoys that part of the job. Anyway, so you know it could get bad.”

Johnny lifted his shirt to reveal his lower abdomen. There was a long, thin scar across his obliques, slicing an inked koi fish in half.

“Knives are common,” he explained vaguely. “I got this one from a Sumiyoshi thug nicknamed ‘The Butcher.’ But we’ll get to that later.”

Taeyong swallowed thickly as he tried to steady his buzzing eyes. Johnny continued.

“Obviously, you know that we expect you not to divulge any sensitive information. There are three things you are allowed to confirm for your captors though, just to get them thinking you won’t be a complete pain in their asses. Those three things are name, rank, and clan. Got it?”

Taeyong remembered how Yuta had lost patience quickly with the Yamaguchi assassin who refused to give any personal details. He didn’t want to end up like that guy. He nodded.

“Lee Taeyong, Kumi-in, Inagawa-kai,” he recited, as if anyone in the room didn’t already know.

“But no more than that,” Johnny confirmed.

“Another important thing to keep in mind,” Mina continued, “is that there are ways to avoid the worst tactics. If they’ve gone to the trouble of capturing you, that’s because they think you have crucial information that they need. It’s in their interest to keep you alive.”

Taeyong nodded along, determined to be a good student as he realized more and more clearly the very real possibility he might need to use some of what he was learning.

“Although it can be tempting to act defiant as if you’re not bothered by the pain, and many experienced gangsters will do this to avoid hurting their fragile little egos,” Mina looked pointedly at Johnny, who just shrugged, guilty, “it can do you some good to play to the opposite. You should exaggerate your injuries and pain. Even if they try to use that against you and humiliate you, ultimately if they think you’re closer to death than you are they’ll let up much faster. Make sense?”

Taeyong nodded quickly. Exaggerated pain, he could do that. “Makes sense,” he confirmed.

“Okay,” Johnny went on, “another thing. Obviously if you ever did get kidnapped, we’d send some people out to find you, and hopefully they’d be successful.”

Taeyong shifted in his seat, watching Johnny start to pace. Hopefully .

“When you do get rescued, for that to end well you need to stay calm and not try to join in the fight. If they see you moving around a lot or if you look like you’re about to break out of whatever restraints they have you in and fight back, then they’re way more likely to treat you like an enemy combatant and not like a prisoner. You could get killed. It’s kind of counterintuitive, but it’s important.”

Taeyong rolled his ankles, gaining some comfort out of the way the stretch and crack of the movement soothed his muscles. He took a deep breath.

“Hey guys, why are we doing this right now? Am I in danger?”

Mina and Johnny exchanged a glance, sending Taeyong’s heart racing even faster than it already was as he tried to decipher their silent communication. Mina spoke first.

“Not necessarily,” she said.

“We just want to prepare you,” Johnny added. “Well, Yuta wanted us to prepare you because he’s been really worried since that assassin came after you two. We can’t be sure that anything too serious will go down but if, say, a gang war does start over this Mitsubishi thing, we want you to be prepared. Got it?”

“Oh…yeah, got it.” Taeyong sighed. “I supposed it’s too late to just…let me go, huh?”

Johnny’s face screwed up and Mina’s twitched. Taeyong thought of their conversation at Johnny’s pachinko bar, assuming she too was pouring over the memory of her own warnings.

“I – look,” Johnny began, and Taeyong already knew the answer he was about to receive. “It’s been discussed, and the higher ups are adamant; you’ll be given the choice as soon as the Mitsubishi deal is secured, but no earlier. They felt they needed to bring you on in the beginning, and I’m in no position to question if that was overkill, but at this point you’re certainly stuck, considering all the information you have.” Taeyong nodded, eyes fluttering to the floor as Johnny leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms. He huffed a breath. “Do you – do you want to leave, Taeyong?”

Taeyong blinked. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t even know what leaving would mean or where he could ever go. His new life was exciting in a way he’d always dreamed about and he liked the people around him more than he’d liked anyone in a long time; Johnny and Mina going out of their way to help him stay safe, the other Tora regiment members all welcoming him so easily, and Yuta…god, Yuta… At the same time though, Taeyong’s new life hadn’t managed to shake the feeling he so often had that he was floating through existence, incapable of being grounded even by the most intense experiences. He wasn’t used to things working out for him. Besides, the last time he made a major decision for himself, he’d been called xenophobic names and battered within an inch of his life.

“I…don’t know,” he admitted. “I don’t think so, anyway, but I don’t want to be a liability.”

Johnny smiled slightly. “That’s not worth worrying about because you aren’t.”

Taeyong wasn’t convinced, but he nodded anyway. “Alright,” he said. “What else have you got to teach me?”

Johnny and Mina let him go after another half hour or so of discussion, teaching him how to school his demeanor to fit somewhere between deference and defiance, how to relax himself in a way that would prevent excessive bleeding and make blows easier to endure, and how to give answers that kept the line of questioning going but revealed nothing to the interrogators. By the time he left room 2A, Taeyong was wondering if he should feel empowered or petrified, his mind careening from one emotion to the other with every new thought. Once he was done processing, he decided to find Yuta.

He’d barely had the chance to talk to him all day and it was weird for him. The night before had been ridiculously intimate, Yuta fucking him so well, opening up to him about his past, and holding him as they fell asleep; so the weird shifts Taeyong had observed all day in Yuta between teasing and aloof were giving him whiplash since he couldn’t ask what was causing them. He hoped Yuta wasn’t busy.

“ Douzo .”

Taeyong’s heart sank when he opened Yuta’s office door and saw Kun there, though he tried not to show it.

“Taeyong, what is it?” Yuta asked, an air of impatience radiating from him and from Kun as he turned around to see who was there.

“ Shategashira ,” Taeyong saluted. He felt like it was his first day all over again. “Sorry to interrupt. I was just hoping to speak with you whenever you’re free.”

Yuta’s expression softened. “Of course. Why don’t you sit by the window while we finish up?”

“Thank you,” Taeyong said, bowing sheepishly and settling into one of the indicated chairs. “Excuse me.”

Kun looked sideways at Taeyong, silent.

“You can speak freely in front of him,” assured Yuta. Kun nodded and pulled his attention back to the matter at hand.

“I just don’t understand how they would have gotten ahold of that information. Could it have been through Donghyuck’s crew?” By “they” Taeyong assumed Kun meant the Yamaguchi-gumi.

Yuta shook his head, placing his fingers in a check mark shape at his chin. “I doubt it. Donghyuck is extremely careful.”

Kun was growing exasperated. Taeyong felt like maybe this was an interaction he shouldn’t be witnessing. He didn’t quite know why he felt that way, though.

“Well, Yuta, there has to be a weak link somewhere, and I trust that you’ll eliminate it. We’re already in a less stable position than I was expecting upon arrival.”

Yuta smiled accommodatingly. “Thank you for your confidence. The leak could have also come from a different regiment, but I’m doing all I can to weed out whoever is responsible.”

“Good,” said Kun. “Our success and our partnership could depend on this.”

“I understand.”

Right then, Chenle and Renjun showed up at the door, having finished a shopping trip down the street, to tell Kun that Ten was looking for him. Taeyong thought he saw Kun direct a sliver of a smile his way as he left.

Yuta sat up and joined Taeyong by the window in the chair to his left. He sat and sighed, a big, open smile overtaking his face. There was the whiplash again.

“Hi baby,” he said.

“Hi.”

“Did Johnny and Mina give you the talk?”

Taeyong snorted a laugh, looking at Yuta from under his fringy bangs. “Yeah, they did.”

“You okay?” Yuta asked. Taeyong shrugged.

“Could’ve been worse,” he guessed. “Good stuff to know.”

Yuta leaned in. “Is that what you wanted to talk about?”

“I guess a little. But there was other stuff too.”

Taeyong looked around Yuta’s office. He’d been stuck almost all day in rooms with concrete walls and fluorescent lighting, and it was making him want to jump out of his skin. He told Yuta to wait a moment for him to get up and turn off the lights. On second thought, while he was up and about, he opened the window to flush the room of the stench of stale cigarette smoke. Yuta watched him with caution as he underwent his little chores. Taeyong turned from the window and made his way back to his chair, eyes finally able to relax in the dimness.

“Johnny and Mina said you’re worried I might be in danger.”

Yuta sighed again. “I don’t necessarily think you’re in imminent danger, but I want to be safe. It’s always a possibility. Sorry if I scared you.”

“Like I told you this morning,” Taeyong repeated. “You don’t scare me. I just want you to be up front with me.”

“Up front, huh?” Yuta paused, his eyes flitting over the floor in thought. “Truth is I’ve been worried about you since the Yamaguchi assassin. It’s always risky to take on a new recruit, or a lover for that matter,” Taeyong blushed at the word, “but up until that point I don’t think the danger felt as real. I would never forgive myself if I let something bad happen to you, Taeyong.”

One of the things Taeyong had been wondering about clicked into place for him. “Your dream last night…is that what – ”

“Yes. That’s part of why I was worried about frightening you. Thought I might have said something while unconscious about you, I don’t know, getting abducted or something.”

“You didn’t,” said Taeyong, breathing a laugh.

“Good.” Yuta smiled, gaze trained at the open window and fingers fiddling with the bottom of his blazer. Taeyong wondered if he was nervous to make eye contact. “And then later when you mentioned how you’re basically stuck with me, then I felt like shit all over again because it’s true: you’re essentially my hostage.” With that, Yuta finally looked Taeyong in the face. “I just don’t know what to do when you say things like that. I know this seems silly, I mean I’ve never shied away from doing arguably unethical things before, but I couldn’t help but ask myself if you even like me -- ”

The pressure that had been threatening to send Taeyong shooting out of his own body finally became too much, and in lieu of doing the impossible, he found himself damming up Yuta’s stream of consciousness with a kiss.

“There we go,” he teased, pulling away and reveling in the awestruck look on Yuta’s face. “I had to shut you up somehow.”

Yuta’s face hadn’t moved since the kiss ended and a smile was spreading over it like melting butter. “That’s no way to speak to your commander,” he teased back, sounding a little drunk on relief. Taeyong spoke.

“ Shategashira , I hope you can forgive me. But you are being ridiculous. I like you, okay? And it’s not because I’m scared or brainwashed. I like you because I like you . I like the way you make me feel. I’m sorry for making you think I wanted to leave.”

Yuta took Taeyong’s hand and kissed it. “ I’m sorry for being such a basket case. Aish, it’s embarrassing, huh?”

Taeyong snorted. “Oh please. If you weren’t insecure sometimes, I might actually be afraid of you.”

He smiled to himself, wondering for a moment if maybe he needed to stop thinking so much and just bask in the strange twist of fate that had brought him and Yuta together. They were still getting to know each other, but Taeyong had never been with someone so charismatic yet so open. If he was going to risk being kidnapped and tortured it might just end up being worth it. Taeyong allowed himself to be lost enough in thought that a few seconds felt like minutes and he barely heard it when the door flung open without warning. Yuta heard it though, wrenching his fingers from where they were laced between Taeyong’s.

“Yuta-san!” said Renjun as he entered the room trailed by Chenle. “What’s going on in here?”

Yuta glared. “Didn’t anyone teach you to knock? That’s very disrespectful.”

“Sorry, didn’t know you had anything to hide,” Chenle quipped. “Anyway, Kun is looking for you again.”

Yuta stood, reluctantly it seemed to Taeyong. “Why couldn’t he send someone else to fetch me?”

Chenle rolled his eyes as they left the room and on the way out Taeyong heard Renjun explain, “because, he told us if all we were gonna do was loiter he might as well put us to use.”

Taeyong giggled, catching himself when Yuta peered back through the door. “Hey, you can go home. Or stick around and make some friends, yeah?”

Taeyong nodded. “Yeah,” he agreed, and Yuta rapped his knuckles against the door with a grin before he was gone. Taeyong stood, determined to have some Triad friends by the end of the day.

#my fanfic #my work #nct #nct 127 #yuta #nct fanfic #nakamoto yuta #taeyong #yutae #nct dream #noir #1980s! au #neothestars #yakuza #gang!au #nct 2020 #nctnetwrite #nct lee taeyong #nct nakamoto yuta

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seoulnotes · 4 years

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Luce in altis | v. The Crown That Controls Its King

S Y N O P S I S | Passed down from centuries worth of history, the remnants of a hatred between two kings reside in a small village that serves as a border between their two feuding kingdoms. y/n lives in that village and must seek aid from one of the kings. Her trust is tested when she learns of the king that is truly wicked.

C H A R A C T E R S | Kim Taehyung, Park Jimin, reader (y/n) ; (mentions of other members)

G E N R E | fantasy, romance, drama — royalty au

W A R N I N G S (chapter specific) | none

W O R D C O U N T | 5k

All parts here

⇠ prev. (iv) | next (vi) ⇢

“No, Yoongi, please don’t lay a finger on my beloved y/n. She is to be my betrothed after all,” and he said that with the wicked smile he trained himself to hold so well. “Now loosen that terrible grip you have on her. Don’t want anything to get bruised, right?”

My heart dropped and the room fell into silence—worse than the one that had been when Taehyung first walked into the throne room this morning.

Even Yoongi was left speechless, his eyes were wide with shock, his hand dropping from my arm immediately.

It took him a moment to process his king’s declaration. “Your Majesty, with all due respect—.”

“It’s final. Besides, it might be a little fun to have a human with magic around here.”

“You’ll be weakened. The people will protest. Your power—,” Yoongi tried to rebut.

“Are you questioning your king?” Taehyung’s voice dripped with venom, testing Yoongi to see how far he’d go. He cocked his head to the side with a sarcastic smile rising to his lips. “Besides, weaken what? You already have done some of that,” he added, a slight bitterness laced in his tone.

Yoongi only bowed accepting the declaration.

“Her powers might come in handy for an heir,” Taehyung chuckled. “It’s rare to see someone with the powers to stop another’s. I believe we covet those in our army. The Protectors.” He casually glanced at me, playing his wicked part before standing up from the throne and stalking towards me. He offered me a hand. “Now, come with me, darling.”

I reluctantly raised my hand and placed it into his. They were warm, reminding me that behind this facade he was putting up, he was the Taehyung I had met before this chaos. I hoped.

—

He led me down a series of corridors, various servants freezing with frightened faces and immediately bowing the entire way. His hand never let go of mine. At the end of the fourth turn, we arrived at a hallway with one singular double-door. The grandest of all doors in this palace aside from the throne room; it must have been the king’s suite.

The door itself held carving in the black wood, intricate and dare I say, even beautiful at first glance.

Taehyung pushed open the doors, letting me enter. My eyes roamed the entire suite. A king-sized bed in the middle of the room, adorned with similar silk-like sheets with a similar bed frame to the throne in the throne room. Each post of the bed frame had its own version of intricate carvings into the wood. I was in awe at the luxury this room had.

As I heard the door being shut behind me, I turned to meet Taehyung.

“You can take a seat on the bed if you’d like,” his tone was not harsh like the throne room, but still cold. He released my hand and sat in the chair behind the grand desk.

I was wrong; this man was not Taehyung either.

I strolled towards the bed, sitting on the edge, cautiously. I did not know what my next move would be; I never expected this. Who was this man in the same room as me?

“Why have you come to my kingdom?” His voice stiff like a wall and indifferent. I was not able to detect any emotion behind it. He picked up a stack of papers and began to read; his eyes not meeting mine. Another sign of indifference.

The anger I felt last night melted away. Like his ice-cold presence and attitude froze it. This was not the Taehyung I knew. Had I dreamt of him helping me last night? I swore he was kinder last night.

The side of me that was ready to ask him why he had lied, why he was being like this was gone; hiding in fear. It was the same feeling as if you asked someone a question for it to be a response of coldness like they didn’t care.

I did not know how to describe him at this moment. It was like the cruel version of the act of king dissipated once we reached this room, but he had placed a wall between us, completely separating any connection we had prior.

“You did not answer,” his eyes glanced up from the paper he had been reading to meet mine in a questioning stare before returning back to the paper.

I shook my head haven’t realized I had let myself wander too deep into my thoughts. I was suddenly wary about mentioning my situation and why I wandered so far to find him.

It was like being in the middle of a frozen pond and the ice was thin. Then trying to walk back to the safe land.

“Um,” I did not realize I had an ounce of fear from this man until I was scared to speak. A week ago, I wouldn’t have hesitated to ask for his help. Now, I found it hard to muster up the courage to continue and it was gone when his eyes caught mine again, expecting.

I saw a flicker of something change in his eyes, some light, but then I was shut out again and my hand ran down the side of my thigh before I forced myself to speak.

“Something’s happened in my village. Someone came with an army. They’ve taken my entire village. They’ve taken my family.” My fear was gone when I came to the realization of what had happened. It felt like I was choking out the last few words. I’ve thought about these things my entire way here. They’ve been in my mind, but to tell someone else was a different story, to speak these words was a different story.

I felt a sinking feeling in my heart because now, the fear has finally settled within. I was scared for my family and I was alone in this fear. It was like the fear I felt the first time my mother had sent me to go to the market as a young girl to buy something except now it was tenfold that fear.

Because I was truly alone.

A few tears fell involuntarily and I had not noticed until they fell onto my hand. I quickly raised my hand to wipe my cheek. My eyes scanned Taehyung’s face for a reaction, any reaction. I might have sounded naive to ask for such a thing. Anything, I just wanted something that wasn’t the stillness of his lips or the emptiness behind his eyes. At this point, I was beginning to regret my decision to come; moreover, I was beginning to feel shame in my decision to trust him so easily, to have given into this false hope.

“I do not know of the matter if that is why you’re here,” there it was. Like a slamming of the door in my face. As if asking me why the hell did I even come here?

And it felt like what I had dreaded the most was here. Like any ounce of hope I had previous to this moment was gone. A glass cup that was once brimming with my hope and faith in Taehyung slipped from where I was holding it and shattered; my hope completely drained on the cold tiles below me.

“I came to ask you for help,” I still prayed there was some bit of the Taehyung I knew in this stranger. I couldn’t let go of this easily. No. Please; where else do I have to go?

Silence. He did not answer me, only continued grazing through the stack of papers.

This time, I felt and I finally found my voice to ask him.

“Who are you?” My voice was quiet, small and it was painful the feeling lump that formed in my throat that I tried to swallow. I knew if I let the tears that pricked my eyes form large enough to fall; I’d break before him and now was not the time to give in. He was not allowed to treat me with such indifference and get my reaction.

“What do you mean?” No reaction showed in his face, still indifferent. The paper in his hand was moved to a pile and he continued to read. Each flick of a page became increasingly louder to me because otherwise there was a disappointing silence.

Flick, another page.

“Are you the Taehyung I met from the Winter Solstice?” I felt confidence rise in my tone just a bit, enough for me to finish the conversation I had started.

Taehyung finally looked up from the papers, a stoic look on his face. His lips were a tight line, eyes just holding my gaze.

I could not read whatever was burning behind his eyes and it left me dumbfounded. What kind of game was he playing exactly?

“You had met the Kim Taehyung without a king’s crown at your Winter Solstice festival,” he began as he rose slowly from his seat, eyes never leaving mine.

I felt myself begin to shrink away as he strolled towards me. My hands laid on the sheets behind me and I felt my body begin to move back just an inch.

“Once you have crossed into this kingdom of mine, the only Kim Taehyung you will know is the one with the crown,” his tone showed no sign of emotion, only stillness and control.

There was no hope now that I was in the presence of the same Taehyung from the Winter Solstice. This stoic face was not that of Taehyung’s warm smile from the festival. The coldness emitting from him was not that of the warm hands that often clasped onto mine. He was proving that man was gone here.

He was now towering above me, eyes looking down onto me. Without warning, his hand wrapped around my forearm and I felt a burning sensation where his hand was. I didn’t attempt to pull away, only keeping my stare on his hand.

For the first time since I had met him, I was scared of Kim Taehyung. I did not know who was standing before me and I clearly did not know beforehand, having fallen into his trap of kind words and fake smiles a week ago.

When he finally released my forearm, there, laying in its wake, was a black outline of a crescent moon etched into my skin. I slowly raised a finger and let it graze over the marking.

“Now you are truly my betrothed,” he spoke quietly under his breath.

Before I had time to register what he had done, a knock came from the door.

“Who is it?” Taehyung stood, straightening his tunic. He approached the door, preparing for a friend or foe awaiting on the other side of the door. Almost immediately, I saw his mask, the stillness in his features, stern and authoritative.

It had dropped around my presence, but he still kept his distance from me.

“Your majesty, it is I,” a faint voice. Immediately, I noticed the softness that wasn’t heard from people of Erebus.

The mask of a King fell from his face. “Come in.”

I returned my stare to my forearm, yet still, I wondered who had this person been that Taehyung did not have to wear that mask around.

The man who appeared in front of the door moments later in a cloud of black. He was a young man. He did not have those eyes with hidden dark intentions behind them. They were a warm brown and when the young man offered a polite smile, I noticed the genuineness behind them.

He did not kneel for his king. Instead, he simply bowed in his presence. I didn’t fail to notice the slight crack of a smile Taehyung had on his lips from the young man.

“Apologies for my lateness. I was handling matters at J-,” he was cut off by Taehyung.

“It is fine Jungkook,” the faint smile still on his lips as he placed a hand on Jungkook’s shoulder and guided a hand in my direction. “I called you here to determine what magic she possesses. In the throne room, she displayed the powers of a Protector, but I’m curious if there are any others.”

Taehyung moved to sit in a chaise lounge nearby, allowing Jungkook to approach the bed.

“Hi, I’m Jungkook,” he greeted with the same genuine smile.

Perhaps it was the lack of emotion from Taehyung or the lack of kindness felt from anyone I had met in this kingdom thus far, but I felt a mutual trust from the simple greeting.

“I hope you don’t mind if I grab your hand for a quick minute,” he sat at the edge of the bed and reached his hand towards me. He was waiting for me to give him permission.

Taehyung still watched from the lounge. Under his watchful eye, any permission I gave didn’t hold any worth. I didn’t have a choice anyway.

I placed my hand on top of his, allowing his to clasp around mine gently and place his other hand on top mine. They were warm and gentle.

I noticed his eyes widening slightly before he returned them to their casual state and released my hand. Taehyung didn’t fail to notice the change in his expression and sat up quickly.

I, myself, fell into confusion. What was wrong?

I pulled my hand back to my side and glanced at Jungkook.

Taehyung stood and disappeared in a whirlwind of black. Jungkook, a second later, followed in suit.

—

I had waited. I had probably waited for nearly hours. Neither had returned, yet, servants were at the door with a meal. Instructed by Taehyung to take care of me in his absence.

For an hour, I paced, I sat, I stood wondering what the hell had happened when Jungkook took my hand. What was Taehyung’s intention in bringing Jungkook?

Slowly, my mind drifted to thoughts containing Taehyung. I had not yet come to terms that Taehyung was not the same person. I was not sure if I could hold onto the fleeting memory of who I met previously with the man who was king. It had not even been a week since he left my village, leaving my freedom with me, and yet, this version he presented himself as in his kingdom was cold, distant, as if he didn’t even associate the fact that he had spent a week betting on whether or not I’d marry him.

I wanted to cry and I wanted to spit hateful words towards him. If I could make him feel anger, I would curse him a thousand times; anything but the nothingness emotions he had been pushing towards me since I arrived.

A knock sounded from the door. As if any betrayal and confusion I had melted away, I stood from my seat quickly with hope it was Taehyung who was behind the door before quickly raising the back of my hand to wipe away the tears that had fallen out of frustration and the slight feeling of betrayal.

The door creaked open slightly and a girl slid in. Her hands clasped in front of her as she bowed. It wasn’t the kneel everyone greeted Taehyung with the moment they knew of his presence. It was a simple bow but still presented her status as lower than mine. I couldn’t fathom why she had done that, but before I could react, she glanced at the tray sitting upon the coffee table and spoke.

“Miss, you haven’t touched your dinner,” her tone was quiet and submissive.

“I don’t have any appetite to eat, really,” I felt myself imitating her tone. I didn’t know how I was supposed to act. I wasn’t of royal blood and I surely was not noble or anyone of power, but she was speaking to me as if I was.

“It seems to be cold, I can prepare something hot for you if you’d like,” her eyes finally met mine and she presented a kind smile on her lips. I had not seen a servant with such kindness in words or emotions yet. Something was strange about the people I had met today.

“Or I can take this tray away since you don’t feel like eating,” she suggested.

“If you can,” I mustered a slight smile.

She received my message and took the tray from the table. “I will be back in an hour to see if you need anything. Don’t hesitate to ask any servant in the meantime,” with that, she disappeared in a whirlwind of black.

I found myself asking for a simple mug of hot tea when she came back. My appetite still didn’t want to come back and I feared it was due to the anxiety I felt for when Taehyung might come back.

“Chamomile,” she handed the mug to me gently. “You will need the rest. Also, there is clothes for you to change into, should you need it,” she pointed to a pile of folded clothes on the bed.

Even though it was possible that the genuineness was not real, I fell for it. I was greedy and wanted it to be real; for someone to show real emotion towards me. I was also foolishly greedy for allowing myself to settle onto the Taehyung’s bed without a second thought and not wanting to face the thoughts of possible danger that could come with it.

I thanked her and had not realized before she left to ask for her name. I would want to remember it. I drank the entire mug without a second thought keeping in mind, I will need the rest. I will need the rest for my family and for whatever this kingdom will greet me with tomorrow.

As my eyes began to feel the weight of tiredness pull my eyelids down, I reminded myself that I will have to ask her for her name when I saw her next; a possible ally.

—

I woke up to the smell of breakfast and I opened my eyes to the ceiling of my room. Not Taehyung’s gold-trimmed bedroom ceiling, but my plain white cracked ceiling.

“Breakfast!” A male’s voice, my brother’s voice.

I stepped cautiously from my bed. Had I dreamt the dark kingdom? Had I missed Taehyung that much?

After a few moments of nothing changing, I ran from my room and into the main room. My mother, father, and Namjoon had begun breakfast. I took a seat beside my mother and felt my mouth water at the plate in front of me. Then my brows furrowed.

“We never have meat for breakfast. Mother, we can’t afford to,” why was she wasting meat on a meal like breakfast?

“We have extra,” she replied.

I felt myself pause. We never had extra for meals outside of dinner.

I met eyes with my father. “Wake up, y/n.”

“Save us, y/n,” Namjoon’s eyes locked to mine.

“y/n, please,” my mother followed, eyes beginning to shine with tears.

—

My body was soaked in sweat when I awoke and I realized the blanket I had been sleeping on the previous night was covering me. When I glanced at the large window beside the bed, I realized dawn was breaking and the dark sky was beginning to lighten, although the sun had yet to peek over the horizon.

What had seemed like a nightmare that only spanned fifteen minutes seemed to have taken the time span of an entire night of sleep.

Then I realized why that had come in the form of a nightmare. I was losing sight of my original reason to come here and was being sidetracked.

My family is why I came here.

I sat up slowly, cautiously, a reminder that I was still in the Dark Kingdom regardless of the comfortable bed I slept in and the meals I was served. No one was my friend here. And it seemed not even Taehyung, who I thought was, was not either.

“You’re awake.”

Speaking of the devil.

“You’re awake as well,” I countered. I took notice of the glowing light sitting on his desk and a new stack of papers. Was he always this busy with his kingdom’s affairs? Even in the early mornings?

I shook my mind off the topic. “Why did you disappear yesterday?”

He ignored my question. “Has your powers returned since the last time you used them?”

I didn’t answer because, quite frankly, I began to feel irritated and it was most likely the combination of the difference in Taehyung’s attitude towards me in addition to his unresponsiveness to my question.

I remained silent and when Taehyung raised his head, his eyes held mine. Once again, I had noticed that darkness in his eyes that led me only to more mysteries I did not know the answer to.

I gave in and answered his question. It was the look in his eyes, the way such power was brewed in them. His stare could make an enemy bow before him if they looked long enough.

“No,” I responded, pulling the sheets off of me and crossing my legs. I do not want them to. “No, they have not returned since the throne room.”

Then to my surprise, Taehyung responded to my question. “I left to discuss your powers with Jungkook. He’s considered a Healer, the power to mend one’s powers as well as diagnose one’s powers. I brought him here to see what other powers you could possess.”

Taehyung stopped there. He didn’t explain what he saw to be discussed away from me.

After his disappearance, I concluded Jungkook must have seen something that sought no benefits. I wondered if I should be asking what Jungkook had seen if it pertained to me.

I decided against it.

“Do not tell anyone what magic you possess if you wish to survive here.”

I did not know if it was meant to protect me when he had spoken with such a dark tone. The message behind the warning was one of kindness, yet it was hard to tell with the bitter tone that trapped the words towards the end.

“I don’t want them anyway,” I spoke quietly.

Silence passed for many hours. Taehyung continued his work and I found myself being dressed and bathed by the women who took care of me initially for the rest. This time, they had dressed me in something ten folds more elegant than the original gown I had worn yesterday making me wonder what plans Taehyung had in place for today.

I was placed in front of a floor-length mirror as the servant worked on buttoning the back. My eyes scanned over the dress. Once again the top favored intricate black lace while the bottom remained a solid black. I almost argued against the choice of clothing when I noticed the dangerously high slit on one side of my leg.

This time, the dress was a capped sleeve, the moon outline on my forearm displayed for all to see mocking me.

The servant guided me to a chair and began to work on my hair for which it was decided by Taehyung who had approached the case of hair accessories and chosen a small tiara.

“We will announce your betrothal today,” he commented as his finger looped under the metal headpiece. The lining of diamonds glimmered against the rising sun as he picked it up to inspect it.

“Make sure it can be noticed,” he handed the crown to the servant.

I opened my mouth to protest but shut it right after to process what he had stated.

“Why are you doing this?”

“If you want to survive to see your family outside of my kingdom, you will do everything I tell you to do.” He was standing by the large window, observing the world behind the other side, hands clasped behind his back. This did not allow me to see what emotions could be written on his face as he, for the first time, showed an ounce of empathy towards me.

“You can not tell anyone of your magic unless I mention it prior to that person or people. It may be best to not speak to anyone if I am not beside you; you don’t know what my people are capable of twisting your words into,” he finally turned from the window. His eyes met mine with a question of agreement.

I nodded lightly, understanding that I must follow what he said to survive. Although, confusion still flowed through my thoughts. Was I hearing a hint of tenderness laced in his words or did I just sought it so much that I was beginning to hear things that weren’t there?

He strolled from the window towards me. I was beginning to hate the slight rising in the discomfort I felt when he towered over me like this.

“Lastly, you are now a kingdom born,” he glanced at my forearm, at the moon, hands tensing at his side for a second. “And you are my betrothed, the future queen of this kingdom,” he added on as if the crown that adorned my hair was not a glaring message itself.

I, too, had caught my eyes on the shining gems adorning the crown.

“Are you capable of following everything that I’ve just told you?” It was a question, but from his lips, the tone was more of a statement; reminding me that I needed to follow what he said regardless.

“Yes,” I replied simply, no emotion punctured my voice. I was simply agreeing; in the back of my mind, I was convinced Taehyung was doing all of this to ensure my life for the time being. In the back of my mind, I was not ready to give up on the Taehyung I met previously and believed a small piece of him remained behind to keep me safe.

—

“Just follow me in,” Taehyung turned his head to the side, giving me a side glance. “Do not show emotion.” One last rule.

As if on queue, silence stilled the air as the towering doors to the throne room creaked open and inside along the center aisle, there, his people kneeled.

Beside the grand throne was another chair, not as elegant, but still sent a message. It was not as heightened as the throne although a partner to the throne with the same design. It was built for a king’s second ruler, his queen.

Yoongi was beside the throne in his usual position, kneeling.

Taehyung, with his shoulders stiff and head held high, walked with utmost nonchalant to his throne. Although he walked casually, every footstep of his echoed throughout the room.

I felt eyes rising from the floor as I trailed behind him. I tried my best to straighten my back as much and keep my head held high, not allowing the wandering eyes chip my facade in any way. I allowed my face to still.

He turned when he reached the first of three steps to where the throne sat and extended his hand to me which I took.

When he turned, I already felt chills run down my spine for he was wearing his infamous wicked smile. “My darling,” he guided me to my seat before placing a gentle kiss on the back of my hand and releasing it.

Taehyung settled onto his throne, a finger on his chin—a tease to his subjects gathered. “You may rise,” his tone was amused.

“As you may have noticed the seat beside my own today,” he began. “The woman beside me is y/n, who you will address as your queen in a month’s time. For the time being, she is my betrothed and you will address her as her highness.”

No one dared to hum a single sound although it was clear that his news stilled everyone more than his presence had caused prior. It was evident shock was that only emotion behind his subjects’ eyes for they kept their stares towards me.

“I have invited my Court and you all to celebrate such a wonderful event,” Taehyung added. He held his hand out and a glass of wine appeared in his extended hand as he lifted it towards the crowd. “Enjoy yourselves,” a smirk on his lips and a brow raised, another mechanism he used to test emotions.

“Yes, thank you for your graciousness, Your Majesty,” in unison, they bowed. The entrance doors opened and servants carried a long table. Atop the table was glasses of wine and champagne along with magnificent platters of food. More servants entered with their own platters and trays of foods and drinks.

Just like food and drink were a spell, the shock washed away and they began to dine and party. The music played was unlike what I had heard, almost a sinful rendition of music. There was no excitement in its rhythm or tune that made me want to dance.

“Your Majesty, a letter has arrived from Hemera,” Yoongi approached the throne.

Taehyung barely nodded, giving Yoongi acknowledgment.

“I will meet with you in the cabinet room,” he responded, taking a drink from his glass.

Yoongi bowed and disappeared with a whirlwind of black.

The wine glass disappeared from Taehyung’s hand as he stood. “Come with me,” he turned with his extended hand towards me.

My surroundings turned to dark and in a split second, I was in a room with bookcases lining the walls and a grand table in the center of the room. I was met with a second of nausea, reminding me of when Taehyung attempted to show me his way of traveling at my village.

Yoongi was already here, a scroll stretched out before him to which he folded quickly as he bowed.

“What is it?” Annoyance filled Taehyung’s voice.

“The king of Hemera has sent a message that he will be arriving for a visit in the coming weeks. He is currently en route to the capital and will be here in three weeks’ time.”

a/n

oop, we sussing out taehyung here... but whats his deal?

SURPRISE SURPRISE

sorry for the super big gap, but FINALLY and i mean finally, things have settled down and i will have more downtime to work on this :)

yours truly, Selene ♡

feedback <3

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porchwood · 5 years

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Hi just so I understand cause i keep waiting for it and it doesnt seem likely to happen have you kind of fallen out of love with wtm? and everlark in general tbh? cause ive been following you for a while now and you always had lil quotes and pictures and things that reminded you inspired you whatever it was about katniss and wtm and now alllll it is is gadge i followed you because personally i love what you did with everlark and im just wondering if thats gone and not foreseeable any time soon?

I’ve been thinking a lot about how to answer this… It’s afair question - to a point. If you’re more of a drop-in person (like me) thanlive-on-the-dash, coming back to find my blog awash in Gadge might have beenquite upsetting. There are several reasons for the current state of things:

1. Life has been driving me into the ground since December26, 2013. (Yes, going on six straight years.) If you were a WtM reader from thebeginning, you may recall that I was pretty energetic and prolific in 2012-2013.Oh, there were tough times, but nothing like what started on the aforementioneddate (a car accident where I was in the “bystander” vehicle and it still got totaled)and has continued relentlessly ever since. Sometimes adversity leads to greatcreativity and sometimes it turns you into a depressed, exhausted, reclusivelump, and the past 5+ years have seen periods of both from me. These past 18months have been exceptionally awful (and expensive), resulting in very littlewriting at all, about any pairing.

2. Writing WtM takes a lot out of me. I don’t know whether thisis common knowledge or not, but it’s the gospel truth. I love that world, Ilove that version of Everlark, but every chapter requires so much hard work, itmakes me tired just to think of it. Not to mention, over the past couple of chaptersEverlark have been pushing for more intimacy than the plot/timeline allows, andso I’ve been struggling with how I want to handle that. Do I fight them andstick to the plan? (I can’t advance the timeline for several reasons.) Do I tryto figure out a cheat for them? They’ve got minds of their own and have changedmy plans multiple times, but this is something they genuinely can’t have, and Ihave to fight them on it. ☹ Which is sad, frustrating, and exhausting.

3. I’m a multi-pairing shipper, and have been from about 3chapters into WtM. Which means that my Everlark fics almost always feature asecondary pairing (or more than one), and sometimes I’ll get a plot bunny for afic about a pairing other than Everlark. Most writers in the THG fandom exclusivelywrite their OTP, whatever the plot bunny, but I find that some plot bunnies don’tfit Everlark as well as they do another pairing. (This is why I’ll never write aBeauty and the Beast Everlark fic unless Katniss is the “Beast,” if you will.)

4. The Everlark fandom is…tricky. I’ve never fit in there. Idon’t write Everlark the way the majority of fans see them (except for Peetabeing “sweet,” I guess), I hated the movies (I refuse to see MJ 1 or 2), and I’vemanaged to really rub some people the wrong way over the years –unintentionally, and for a variety of reasons – all of which leaves me feeling kinda down about Everlark in general. Don’t misunderstand me: I love Everlarkand WtM, but it’s really isolating to be this sad little island of unpopularopinions and unwelcome side-ships. That’s the part I really wish I could makeyou understand. For six years I’ve had Christopher Plummer in my head saying, “You’llnever be one of them,” and he’s so, cruelly, right. I want to cry every time Ithink of Embracing the Season (my E-rated Everlark modern AU oneshot for Lovein Panem - lots of daring for me!) because I poured heart and soul into that andit still wasn’t the Everlark that people wanted.

5. About a year and a half ago (when Strawberry Time reallytook off of its own accord) I participated in Gadge Day 2017, working my buttoff to find and schedule (and tag) over 100 carefully chosen Gale/Madge/Gadge aestheticposts, and for lack of a better way to say it: it turned on my Gadge-dar. After that, thosekinds of posts just leapt out at me whenever I had a chance to scroll, and forseveral months I wasn’t sure what to do with that. With a little encouragementfrom @ghtlovesthg, I came up with #march madgeness – wherein I turned my Tumblrinto Madge/Gadge-land for one month, and it was a blast. (Side-stepping Gadgefor a moment: Madge is a highly underappreciated and underused character,especially in fic/on Tumblr and I love splashing the dash with Madge-love.) Thenext month I launched a run of pent-up Everlark posts (i.e., regularprogramming), but I missed my Madge, so I instituted #madge monday – one day aweek when I could splash the dash with Madge/Gadge. At every juncture I gavepeople tags to block if they didn’t want to see this content (though I stillget unfollows every time I post, alas). I participated in last summer’s THG Reread– on the fringe of it, but my posts (reblogs and meta) were strongly Everlark-focusedagain during that time. So there’s definitely still been Everlark on my blog,but if you’re just dropping in (or for that matter, glancing at my archive), you’regoing to see a majority of Madge/Gadge.

6. Frankly, Gadge is fun. It’s a completely different dynamicthan Everlark, with less pressure to create something transcendent, and whenthe chips are down, I’m more likely to work on something that isn’t my six-years-runningopus. This spring, in the midst of lots of awfulness, I finally wrote a piecethat I’ve had in my head for years – The Best Part of Waking Up – with a differentpairing featured in each drabble “chapter,” including Gadge, Luka/Johanna (whoI’ve been wanting to put out there for AGES) and Jack/Raisa. I haven’t beenable to write quickly in years, and I think I finished those three “chapters”in about two days, maybe three. I completed the Raisa drabble in a couple ofhours and I consider it one of the best things I’ve ever written. (Honestly, ifa pairing was going to topple Everlark in my heart, it would be Jack/Raisa, i.e.,Mr. Everdeen/Mrs. Mellark. I love them to distraction.) Once upon a time I could drabble/sprint Everlark too – notoften, but I could manage it. Maybe it’ll happen again someday, but for thetime being, when I write in quick eager bursts, it’s usually about aside-pairing.

7. Because I just need to say it: about a year ago, I set up a secondary Tumblr for almost all my side-interests and ships outside of THG. When I first joined Tumblr, porchwood was just a fun page where I posted whatever struck my fancy (pretty things, funny things, whatever I liked), and over the next few years, I honed it into a pretty “writer’s notebook” for WtM and my other THG fics (related quotes, aesthetic posts, writing check-ins, etc.). When Star Wars: The Force Awakens came out, I shared a handful of posts pertaining to a new ship (not a new direction for my blog or writing, just sharing my excitement) and it was made very clear to me that people didn’t want to see that content on my page. So when I started watching Voltron: Legendary Defender, I had a sneaking suspicion people wouldn’t want to hear about those ships either. So I started an entirely new Tumblr for that content, and every so often I accidentally post something to the wrong page, which I immediately correct in horror, but people still unfollow. Point being: this blog is THG (and a few personal life updates) ONLY, with a pretty consistent aesthetic. I hide literally everything else that I’m interested in so you don’t have to be bothered by it. Is it really so unacceptable for me to have side-ships (complementary to the main pairing, not threatening to them) in the same universe??

8. Believe it or not, I’ve been working on WtM all along,just not making any massive strides. I tried to chip away at the current chapterduring Camp Nanowrimo last July, and it was a disaster. I thought joining awriting group would be helpful, but I didn’t realize that Camp Nano is basicallya lot of writing sprints in which you try to churn out as many words aspossible, which you then report to your “cabin” – and that’s the onlyinteraction with your fellow writers. I can’t write like that anymore (seeabove) and especially not when it comes to WtM, so I got discouraged veryquickly and sort of drifted away. I reattempted Nano on my own in April and wrotealmost 15K words, but in that instance I was really just using the Nano platform toset and reach a goal (which I didn’t ☹ ); I wasn’t in a cabin and didn’t interact with anyother writers, except my friend @ghtlovesthg, who read the finished portion.

9. I want to finish this dang chapter so much, and frankly, theonly way that’s going to happen is if life gets a little better and I holemyself up with my laptop for hours on end for weeks at a time – and somemagical being comes to support/cheer/comfort me while I do so. It’s currentlysitting at about 25K and I anticipate it will need to be at least double that,which is beyond ridiculous, but that’s the nature of WtM. The chapters are asmany words as it takes.

TL, DR: I still love Everlark and I’m still working on WtM, but my life has been extremely difficult for a very long time and I don’t have a great Everlark lifeline. Gadge and all my other ships are fun, and most of the Gadge you see on my Tumblr is aesthetic stuff for themed days/months/occasions. Anything non-THG goes on my sideblog.

#queued #i'm sorry to be snappy #i understand the confusion #and i'm not happy that i'm not finishing wtm either #ask #gade #side-ships #anon

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onepunchmiss · 5 years

Text

OPM s2e8 Live Blog

“The Resistance of the Strong”

I don’t have much to say before I start watching this time- I’m pretty much expecting it to be 99% Gouketsu and the tournament conclusion, so let’s just get straight to it! As always, I’m watching from the perspective of someone who has read both the manga and web comic.

Alright, picking up right where we left off again. Man, so they really did bypass the whole ‘couldn’t hear the sirens’ thing in favor of making Bakuzan a douche. The three crows!! I love that they remind me of those images of birds with arms photoshopped on them being all like “REAL OR FAKE HAS SCIENCE GONE TOO FAR??”

Ahh the man himself. Gouketsu whats up my guy you ready to crush the pompous fuccboi???? Suiryu. I’m talking about Suiryu. Yo I just pause the intro reflexively now like I don’t even notice until I’m like hey wait Ive been staring at Z’s pouty face for a while now oops

A Class is blasting of agaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiin

wait what do you mean wrong anime?

I dig that the Goketsu flashback sequence is black and white, pretty cool imo. The monster cells are still gross looking like are they slimy?? Rubbery?? Both??? how can anyone eat that they’re literally pulsing

Oh yeah metal knight i forgot you exist ha. I still cannot get over hot pink Orochi either like of all the colors why hot pink. OH. YES CHOZE EAT THE THING. As fun as he is to hate I LOVE his monster design just please don’t be lime green or something asdfghjk OH THANK GOD Hes the color of the shirt thats logical thank you Oh Boltane looks pretty cool too Suiryu. I’m talking about Suiryu. Yo I just pauSUIRYU YOU ABSOLUTE FUCK BOY IF SHE SAID NO WOULD YOU REALLY JUST WALK AWAY LIKE uhg gouketsu please whoop humility into him PFFFFFFFFFT the boobs were TOO STRONG for CHOZE’s HORNS aww well that was fun while it lasted. Here take this picture of his face that serves absolutely no purpose in this blogging

OH OH WATCHDOG MAN THAT MEANS TRASH SON TOO ASDFGHJKL OH MAN THEYRE ACTUALLY SHOWING IT REAL TIME NOT AS GAROU FLASHING BACK AFTERWARDS AOH

“I didn’t say shake” I Just ,,,,,, i love it sm hhhhhhhhhh OH MAN THEY ADDED QUITE A BIT TO THIS HUH NEW MATERIAL YES GIMME

Oh my god I can’t help but cackle at Gouketsu straight up flicking suiryu ffs “aww he ate them all, greedy bastard” hekk Gouketsu is actually a chill dude aside from the murderous intent thing he’s hilarious

YYYYYYYYYYYEEEEEEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS MY BOYS THIS IS THE MOMENT IVE BEEN WAITING FOR THE ENTIRE TOUNAMENT I LOVE THEM SM PLEASE

BE STILL MY BEATING HEART YOU ARE TOO GOOD I LOVE YOU BOTH PLZ YALL DESERVE A BREAK HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH also I never noticed Max being so smoll wait so i paused to look it up and he’s actually 5’10”?? Snek is 5’10.5” jeez the difference is drawn very drastically huh. wait. THEY’RE BOTH TALLER THAN ZOMBIEMAN HOW. ISNT Z LIKE 5’8” OR SOMETHING I NEED TO DOUBLE CHECK. OK YEAH HE IS WHAT AN UNEXPECTED DISCOVERY WELL THEN

“You risk too much for a guy without a tank top” guys I love TTM so much oh my god he’s so underrated

WOAH ok this looks really cool????? Coolest animation in the episode yet Bakuzan just flailing his arms idk why that struck me so much?? WHY IS IT PINK WHY IS EVERYTHING PINK NOT ACTUALLY BUT WHY IS IT PINK CMON NOW I THOUGHT IT WAS JUST THE LIGHTING ON GYORO BUT THIS IS BROAD DAYLIGHT PINK

OK THIS IS FORGIVEN NYAN LOOK AT NYAN I LOV so it seems like Gyoro gyoro is giving some extra exposition to metal knight that I don’t remember? Is this new? I don’t remember nyan being mentioned here or anything..

Man, I wanna feel bad about Suiryu getting the physical and verbal beat down but like, I just don’t idk. He’s probably like me second least favorite character in the series and hes not even that terrible. Especially considering my least favorite is Sweet Mask.

AHH PRISONER AND DRIVE KNIGHT. Drive Knight don’t leave me plz no come back where are you ;_; Oh my god are they gonna end it before Saitama shows up?? That would be weird as hell but thats what it feels like they’re gonna do??? OH WHAT THE HELL THEY ENDED IT RIGHT WHEN HE SHOWED UP?? NO. HOW YOU GONNA INCORPORATE THAT INTO NEXT WEEK CMON ITS JUST A TINY BIT LEFT COME ONNNNNNNNNNNN

THERE WASNT EVEN A POST CREDITS STINGER ARE YOU FOR REAL RIGHT NOW BOI

WAIT I DONT GIVE A FUCK MY LAST 2 BRAIN CELLS ARE SCREAMING AT EACHOTHER RN

I ALREADY POSTED ABOUT THE IMPLICATION OF THIS SEPARATELY BUT LIKE THIS IS THE CHAPTER IN THE MANGA SAME CHAPTER!!!!!!!!! THE BAE IS COMING MY FERAL FANGIRL CANNOT BE CONTA I NE D also the ninja duo so thats hype too but hhhhhhHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

So all in all not much to say other than fun episode went almost exactly as expected I got to see MY BOYS SNEK AND MAX YES i just want to hug them hhh. A little annoyed that it ended right when it did but thats a minor complaint relatively speaking. but next week. NEXT WEEK. thanks yall for reading and ohoho will i see you Next Week

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shumakoweek · 6 years

Text

Schedule & Rules

What’s the schedule?

Jan 14 Day 1: First / Milestones Jan 15 Day 2: Leaders / Power Couple Jan 16 Day 3: Distance Jan 17 Day 4: Protect / Heal Jan 18 Day 5: Nerves / Jealousy Jan 19 Day 6: Double Date / Date Night Jan 20 Day 7: Future / Family / Children

You may do as many or as few prompts as you like. Late submissions happily accepted!

We will also retweet/reblog new creations tagged #shumakoweek even if they don’t fit our prompts, with a limit of one per account per day. We understand some media are tougher to associate with a prompt than others. For example, we don’t expect cosplayers to travel great distances for that new photo or create a prompt-specific outfit, though we’ll happily add it to the appropriate prompt Moment if they do!

What types of post are accepted?

Fanfiction, fanart, fanmixes, edits, headcanons, videos, and other content mediums that do not violate the rules (see below) and are not reposts of another person’s work will all be accepted. All submissions should free of hate and original for the week (not new chapters of ongoing work or other pre-existing work). We do accept NSFW material but ONLY if the post linking to it is safe for work.

How do you participate?

On Tumblr: You can either post the content on your own blog and we will reblog it here, or you can submit it to us at /submit. If you are posting on your own blog, make sure to mention @shumakoweek in the caption and use #shumakoweek in the tags.

On Twitter: Tweet with the hastag #shumakoweek. We will be following that.

What is the deadline?

There is NO DEADLINE to submit content. All late content will be accepted.

I want to do something but I’m not a creator!

1. You can become one! Go for it!

2. You can also participate by supporting the creators! Have you ever left a comment? Maybe it’s time to give it a try! If you have before, maybe set a new goal for yourself: Comment once a day! Comment on every piece you consume! Challenge yourself!

Note on posting times:

Our team spans many time zones but work and life still happens. Please bear with us if we don’t retweet/reblog immediately. If your post doesn’t violate any of the rules and still hasn’t been retweeted/reblogged, please send an ask in! We may have missed it.

NSFW make take us longer to retweet/reblog because we have fewer people reviewing them for rule compliance and of course they can't review them from work :)

RULES:

NSFW (involving sex/porn) materials is accepted but ONLY if the post linking to it: (i) Is completely safe for work, no explicit previews even on hover, (ii) the link is clearly marked as NSFW, (iii) the post is acceptable on the platform on which it is submitted and (iv) does not involve photographs/videos of real humans. Basically anyone should be able to read our blog safely at work.

While we love a lot of ships over here at @shumakoweek, we want to keep this week focused on ShuMako only, so we won't be reblogging OT3s and other poly pairings that include the characters.

Any reposts we are mentioned or tagged in will not be reblogged here, and will be reported to the original creator or flagged.

Minor/adult ships of any kind (between a character over 18 and a character under 18) are strictly forbidden from appearing or being implied in the work.

Submissions should be new for the event. You can get started before the event begins, but their first posting should be for ShuMako Week, even if late.

Please don’t make your work a continuation or new chapter of an ongoing story, or part of an ongoing comic. The work cannot be part of something that has been posted prior to the event.

Make sure to use the appropriate tags for your content when you post it, including but not limited to death, injury, blood, etc.

Please keep your content hate-free, this includes hate targeted at other characters or ships.

The mods of @shumakoweek are people too. We reserve the right to avoid handling the content of anyone who harasses our mods.

This content has been adapted from the original Makoto Week page:

Most of the content of this post has been adapted from the original Makoto Niijima Week from 2017. Our ongoing thanks to the creators and curators for organizing the original event!

#shumakoweek

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stevesharrlngtons · 6 years

Text

hey.

steve harrington x reader

summary: he was such a staple piece in your life, that as a child and young teen, you never saw your life without him. late night promises and pinky swears were made in blanket forts that you two would be friends until the day the sun burned out in the sky. it was just a given that’d he be there, that you never worried about the two of you drifting apart or being separated. he promised he’d always be there, and you had believed him. you now corrected yourself, foolishly believed him.

word count: 3.6k

title from this song.

a/n: multi chapter time! getting ready for slow burn!steve… if you guys like this i will post the other chapters i have! this is going to be a doozie, like a double digit chapter doozie… so let me know. i’m so nervous to post this, my palms are sweating... sorry for this painfully generic best friends trope fic!

chapter ii / iii / iv / v / vi / vii / viii

chapter i

The cold metal of Jonathan Byers’ car had begun to penetrate through your jeans and attack the skin of your thighs. The two of you were sat side by side, about a mile or two away from a house party Nancy had persuaded the two of you to go to. Neither of you had partying in your blood and drinks on the mind, so you had originally decided to bag the party and go see Dune for the third time. But half way to the theater, Jonathan had pulled off the road, mumbling an excuse about needing to think and you watched quietly through the windshield as he hopped on the hood of the car and put his head in his hands. Letting him wallow dramatically for a moment, you had put your jacket on and stepped outside to sit next to him. He made no indication of speaking as you settled on the car. You pulled a pack of cigarettes from your pocket and offered one to Jonathan, who scowled and put his hand up, declining your offer. You rolled your eyes and shook the pack at him again, insisting. Begrudgingly he took a small white cigarette from the pack and after you did the same, you lit both.

“Are we going to sit out here in the cold all night or are you just going to tell me what’s up?” You asked matter-a-factly as you turned towards your friend.

“Just tired of seeing Dune, I guess.” He shrugged and took a drag, trying his best to mask the small cough that came after he did.

“You wound me, Jonathan, you really do.” You chuckled and placed the cigarette to your lips.

“What?”

“Lying to me so blatantly, not only about what’s wrong, but that Dune is a bad movie!” He chuckled.

“Just think that maybe we should go the party, s’all…” He muttered, almost like he was embarrassed.

“We totally can, and like totally get totally wasted!” You mocked in a valley girl voice, spinning a lock of your hair around your finger.

“Fuck you, forget it…” Jonathan proceeded to throw his cigarette to the ground and slide off the car and towards the driver’s side door.

“Hey, hey-“ You called after him, it was clear you had offended him.

You leaned your body over the hood of the car and stretched towards him to grab his arm. During this movement, your sweater rode up and the cold stele of the car pricked the skin of your stomach uncomfortably.

“Stop, I’m sorry, okay? I was just fucking with you. If you really want to go, you know I’ll go with you.” Your voice was calm and reassuring.

Jonathan was still looking away from you and sighed.

“No, it was stupid idea. If we want to get drunk we can go to your house and drink jack and cokes and watch old Twilight Zone episodes.”

“While that does sound appealing,” You had now wiggled yourself onto your knees and used your other hand to grab Jonathan’s other arm so he would look at you, “I think we should be cool, regular teenagers for a night, and put our grouchy, cynical selves on hold.”

“I’m not grouchy and cynical!”

“Keep telling yourself that.” You smiled and patted his shoulder affectionately.

Then it was your turn to slide off the car and return to inside the cab.

“It’s going to be lame, I don’t even know why I thought we should go.” Jonathan groused as he started the car.

“Call it a lapse in judgement.” You shrugged and pulled out your pack of cigarettes again.

“Eh eh!” Jonathan batted the back out of your hand, “I told you not in the car.”

You rolled your eyes, “See! Grouchy!”

“Shut up!” He grumbled then muttered something about how you said you were quitting…

Once at Tina’s house party, you were surprised just how much it resembled parties in the movies. You swore every kid in the junior and senior class were binge drinking and dancing together somewhere on the premise.

You and Jonathan walked through the house, just taking it all in. While on the way to the party, he had mentioned wanting to split off from you to find Nancy once you arrived, and you had no objections. Even though Nancy was currently off the market, it was hard for you not to root for Jonathan to get the girl. But now, Jonathan seemed to be sewn to your side, not even making an attempt to look for Nancy, or anyone for that matter. You suggested that you two get a drink, and even if Jonathan had objections, he didn’t say a word.

After you had had a few drinks, the party started to actually become enjoyable. Somewhere along the way, Jonathan had detached from you and disappeared into the crowd of your classmates, but you didn’t really mind. You had struck up a conversation with a girl in your English class who you had gone to school with for years. She was an easy target for you because you knew she would just blather on and on and you wouldn’t really have to make an effort to reply or pay attention. All you had to do was nod occasionally and laugh when it seemed appropriate. But one of the many topics she was spewing over struck a chord with you.

“I mean we’ve all went to school together forever, it’s like we all have a history one way or another! Like when you were best friends with Steve Harrington, you remember that?” The girl laughed and you joined in with a false smile.

“Yeah, pretty crazy to think about that.” You forced yourself to reply, and raised your cup to your lips.

It was crazy to think about. As kids, your parents had been best friends with Steve’s, so it just went hand in hand that you two would spend time together when they did. But unlike a lot of people you were forced to spend time with as a child, Steve was the only one you looked forward to seeing. You two were a duo, you rarely heard your name mentioned without his close behind. (Y/N) and Steve, Steve and (Y/N). His mother joked that she couldn’t wait for the two of you to be eighteen so you could go on and be her daughter-in-law already. It was playfully banter that your mothers would talk about, but one day Steve seemed to ask you for real.

“I would marry you, just so we could be friends forever.” He said one day when you both were nine.

“I’m pretty sure we don’t have to be married to stay friends forever, Steve.” You had laughed.

“Yeah, but it will make it easier.”

He was such a staple piece in your life, that as a child and young teen, you never saw your life without him. Late night promises and pinky swears were made in blanket forts that you two would be friends until the day the sun burned out in the sky. It was just a given that’d he be there, that you never worried about the two of you drifting apart or being separated. He promised he’d always be there, and you had believed him. You now corrected yourself, foolishly believed him.

Steve got better at basketball in the eighth grade. So good, that the girls from the ninth grade would come to the games to fawn over him. His new found confidence, growth spurt and newly straightened teeth were also factors in the copious amounts of new girls cheering for him every week. They cheered so loud that you wondered if he even heard your encouragements from the stands anymore. After he stopped returning your calls, walking with you to school and avoiding you at lunch time, you knew that your cheers meant nothing anymore. He made a weird effort to skill talk to you in the halls but you always noticed when he was being fake and uninterested. Soon his half assed effort stopped all together and you had accepted that the Steve Harrington you knew was gone, and long reign King Steve.

The summer before high school was lonely and bitter without him. You’re mother often asked why you didn’t give him a call, but you told her she wouldn’t understand. You weren’t friends anymore, simple as that. People grow apart, that’s life. You just honestly never thought that it would happen with Steve.

But one day in July, you rode your bike to town to get an ICEE from the gas station. Your house was loud, filled with the fighting of your parents and it just wasn’t worth it to get wrapped up in the middle of whatever bullshit they were arguing about now. As you were riding, you didn’t notice a sharp rock on the road. When you unknowingly road over it, the rock ended up flying up to hit your knee hard, causing you to tumble off onto the street. You tried to collect yourself as quickly as possible, a red burn gracing your cheeks. You had hoped that no one had been around to see, but the sound of a bike braking and falling next to you said otherwise.

“Oh my god, are you okay?” A voice asked in a shocked and concerned tone.

You looked up at the young boy in an embarrassed haze and tried to wave him off.

“Yeah, it’s all good.” You said unconvincingly.

Even if your faltering tone had convinced him, the red blood gushing from your knee and soaking your white sock was a sure fire indicator that everything wasn’t as you said.

“Let me help you.” He said to you, extending his hand out to you.

And for some reason, you took it.

And that’s how you met Jonathan Byers.

He had taken you to his house and had his mom help clean you up. She had been a nice woman with kind eyes, she reminded you of your own mother, but maybe more maternal than yours ever was to you.

After that you and Jonathan just started hanging out every day because there wasn’t really anyone else to hang out with. You both bounded over the fact that you were both a bit friendless at the moment, and both had parents going through messy divorces. It was nice to have someone to talk to again, and you could tell that Jonathan thought it was nice to have anyone to talk to at all.

So as summer came and went, and high school started for the both of you, it seemed to everyone else you had traded Steve in for another model. Some people might have thought it was a down grade from the king of school to a quiet Bowie kid, but you thought the opposite.

Steve never paid you any mind to you, even in classes that you shared, he’d actively not look at you or do anything he could to ignore you. It hurt you more than you let on. But you just tried to do the same, pretending everything Steve Harrington had ever done and said to you had been fiction and never even existed in the first place.

Throughout high school you befriended some people, but only causally. It was hard for you to get close to people and open up to them. So just surface level, superficially friendships worked for you. Jonathan never understood why you insisted on making so many acquaintances.

“It’s fun. I’d rather talk about Olivia Newton John with a girl I can tolerate for a class period than not talk to anyone at all. Besides, at the end of the day, I get to come bicker and talk with you about art house and Iggy Pop anyways, so who cares.”

He would always look at you baffled. Jonathan prided himself on being an outsider, so he could never wrap his head around why you sometimes tried not to be. You still were and he always knew you would choose him over any of the high school asshole any day, but sometimes you just confused him.

Like how even after years of the two of you not being friends, anytime Jonathan or anyone else would bring up Steve in conversation, you would stiffen and immediately change the subject. You often talked about your friendship with Steve like a bad cold, it was shitty but now it was over and you didn’t want to think about it anymore. He’d always noticed that after Steve had abandoned you, there were clear rigid walls built around you. Aside from Jonathan, you kept most, if not all personal and heart felt details about your life to yourself. You always said you’d hate Steve forever for fracturing your life even more than it already had been in your thirteenth year. That’s why Jonathan wondered why you looked so hurt when you had found out that Steve was dating Nancy Wheeler. You had told him it was because Nancy was your friend and Steve was an asshole who would break her heart, no doubt. But he knew that wasn’t the whole story, but he never pushed it any further. He hated that Nancy and Steve were dating too, for his own selfish reasons. But all that went out the window when Will went missing.

Jonathan deteriorated, and you did too. But you were the strong one out of the both of you, you had to be. So, when he became distant and started to spend more time with Nancy Wheeler you felt a pang of jealousy but didn’t do anything about it. It felt like she kept taking every important boy away from you… But you let Jonathan do his thing, knowing the way he pined for her. The only time you wanted to meddle in his secret affairs was when Steve had broken his camera. Jonathan made you promise not to slash his tires like you had planned.

This all led you to the day you went to Jonathan’s house to see if he would want to drive a few towns over to go see Videodrome with you. But after pounding on the door for what seemed like ages, you had been met with a gun toting Nancy Wheeler, a bloodied Steve Harrington, and a shocked Jonathan Byers.

After mass confusion and lots of yelling back and forth, you four were confronted by what they had told you was coming but you hadn’t believed. You all fought whatever the hell was there and after it disappeared things were tense and quiet between the four of you. As you all stood on the porch looking into the night, you heard Nancy sigh and run back into the house, Jonathan hot on her heels. But not you, and to your surprise, not Steve either.

“Long time no see, huh?” He cracked wise next to you.

“Yeah, hell of a reunion.” You chuckled sadly to yourself.

“This has all been…” You turned to him and see that he was stammering to find words that could even come close to describe what the two of you had stumbled upon tonight.

“Yeah. It has.” You said, knowing no word could even fit the description.

That’s when Steve looked up into your eyes for what seemed to be the first time in almost four years. His eyes seemed to soften when he looked at you, and you felt yours do the same. Even now, mangled and broken, he was still perfect. And you hated it. Because you knew tomorrow he wouldn’t be this soft eyed, joking Steve anymore. And you wouldn’t be this version of yourself with your guard down.

“Well,” you said, tearing your gaze away from his, “I’m gonna get going. Tell Jonathan to call me later, I guess. I need some time to digest what the fuck just happened.”

You shrugged and turned away from Steve, making a conscious effort to not have your shoulder hit his as you walked towards your car.

“Hey, (Y/N)?” Steve called after you when you were a few paces away.

You turned around against your better judgement.

“I could, you know, drive you home? If you want me too…” Steve spoke, stumbling over his words.

It was kind of cute, it made your mind regress to the time when you would have happily obliged. But things were different now. You didn’t hate Steve like you wished you did, but you also weren’t chomping at the bit to be close to him again. So even though the two of you had just shared a life altering experience, you knew you didn’t want to accept the ride.

“Thanks, but I’ll just drive. You gotta stay here with Nance and stuff anyway.” You said back to him.

“Y’know, just in case they go off and try to fight the Loch Ness Monster, one of us should be here to protect them.” You added with a chuckle, after you had feared that your initial response sounded like you were jealous of him and Nancy.

“Yeah,” Steve stifled a smile, “You’re right, who knows what they could get into next.”

You offered him one last small smile before getting into your car and driving away.

Of all the things that haunted you from that night, the disappointed, hurt look on Steve’s face after you rejected the ride home always resonated first in your mind.

After that night, you and Steve became somewhat friendly again, but for the most part, nothing changed except now you both held a secret the government would kill you if you ever told.

You and Jonathan went back to disassociating and Nancy and Steve went back to, well, whatever Nancy and Steve did. You didn’t really care. It wasn’t your business anyways. But one night while you and Jonathan were drunkenly heckling Marsha Brady on the television, Jonathan got solemn and quiet.

“Why doesn’t she love me, (Y/N/N)?”

This had taken you aback, especially in your drunken stupor, but you knew exactly what and who he meant.

“Because she’s a fucking idiot.”

“Yeah, no, I don’t know…” He babbled softly.

“He’s a fucking idiot too, y’know.”

“What?” You asked, this time in the dark about what he meant.

“Steve. He should love you back, too.”

You hadn’t been sure if Jonathan had meant what he said, or even remembered, but he had went back to laughing at the TV, while you had sat in a stunned silence.

Neither of you had mentioned that night again.

You had escaped from the chatty girl in the kitchen of Tina’s house, telling her you were going to go find Jonathan, but really you just wanted to get away from her. You didn’t like to think about your past with Steve, and you feared she’d bring it up again. So now you sat on the front porch of the house party, chin resting on your knees and burning cigarette in your fingers. The sound of muffled music billowed out from the house. You could still clearly hear the lyrics of the song being played but that was about it. A few party guests were out front with you, but they were either too drunk or preoccupied to notice or bother you. Your buzz was starting to wear off and you debated just walking home and leaving a note on Jonathan’s car telling him where you went and not to worry. But as you weighed your options, the music grew louder and more clear, and a person brushed passed you. You were about to scold them for running into you, but you recognized the back of Steve’s head almost instantaneously. He rushed around you and towards the hordes of parked cars with conviction. Who the hell was king Steve to leave a party before midnight?

You were going to let him be, but since the two of you were done pretending that the other didn’t exist, you thought you’d at least try to deduce what was wrong with him, if anything even was.

“Harrington.” You called out after Steve, but he kept walking.

“Hey, Steve!” You called again, now getting up and hustling towards him.

This time he turned around and you almost walked into him.

“What?” He asked sharply, but became visibly calmer when he saw it was you.

“Sorry.” He mumbled.

“What’s up? Not even midnight yet and you’re skipping out?” You asked, taking a drag from your cigarette.

“I… wait, you smoke?” He said, like he was caught off guard.

You shrugged, “On special occasions.”

“And this is one of them?”

“Guess so.”

“I’m just tired, that’s all.” He lied.

“Try again, Harrington.” You said to him after his lie had failed to convince you.

“Just don’t worry about it, okay? I’m fine.”

“Okay, well, y’know, if you wanna talk about it, I’ll listen…” You trailed off awkwardly. You meant it, but it felt weird consoling someone who was basically a stranger to you now. He was very clearly not okay, but you weren’t going to stand here and force him to talk to you. If he wanted to go, you’d let him go.

“Thanks.” Steve said, it looked like he was searching your face to look for a lie, but came up short. You were genuinely there for him, just like always.

You nodded, and turned to walk back towards the house, the feeling of Steve’s stare burning into your back.

“(Y/N)?” You looked over your shoulder.

“Get in the car.”

You didn’t know if it was because you had already wanted to leave or if it was because of the look on Steve’s face when he said he was okay. But it didn’t matter, you got in the car.

#as always sorry for spelling/grammar errors #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington headcannon #steve harrington reader insert #steve harrington slow burn #steve harrington fanfic

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samuraiko · 6 years

Text

Semi-Useful Notes for Writing for THE ROYAL TUTOR

(Author’s Note: This includes all twelve episodes of the anime (plus the movie), as well as up through Chapter 84 of the manga (18 Oct 2019) and what info I can glean from the Character Book (unfortunately it’s all in Japanese). I will continually update this post as the series progresses and new spiffy stuff shows up, so visit my Master List of my ROYAL TUTOR Stuff to see the latest version.)

While writing A Noble Soul (which is done, by the way!), I had the idea that I personally love the little touches of authenticity that make a story more 'real,' and hey, if nothing else, I learn a few things along the way. (I *am* a researcher, after all!) So I did a lot of searching to find the real-world analogues of the buildings, references, history, and so forth from the series. As you’ll see in the descriptions, I explain how I determined which ones were which.

You’re welcome to post questions, comments, share this, etc. Hope it helps anyone else who wants to write for the ROYAL TUTOR fandom! (Quick question - would everyone prefer me to include chapter references for stuff? It’d make this post much longer, but if the fandom thinks it’d be useful, I can give it a shot.)

So, here we go!

GRANZREICH FAMILY INFO

Viktor von Granzreich, current ruler of the kingdom of Granzreich, assumed the throne at 18 (considering his father’s much later death, this may have been for reasons of health on his father’s part, possible abdication on his father’s part, or other political reasons)

Maria von Granzreich, Viktor’s mother, still living

NOTE: Her sibling (name and gender as yet unmentioned) is the Queen’s parent

Father’s name as yet unmentioned, died of natural causes at ‘a ripe old age’

NOTE: The princes mention in earlier chapters that they do remember their grandfather from when they were small, so his death is relatively recent)

Viktor’s wife (appears only once in flashback, name as yet unmentioned)

NOTE: One of her siblings (not sure if brother or sister) is the parent of Beatrix von Lothringen

(Beatrix also has three younger brothers and one younger sister)

Viktor’s children:

Eins von Granzreich, Viktor’s eldest child and firstborn son

Kai von Granzreich, Viktor’s second son

Currently engaged to Beatrix von Lothringen, first cousin to the princes

Bruno von Granzreich, Viktor’s third son

Leonhard von Granzreich, Viktor’s fourth son

Licht von Granzreich, Viktor’s fifth son

Adele von Granzreich, Viktor’s sixth child and only daughter

LOCATIONS:

GRANZREICH (real world analogue: Austria)

Granzreich population: ~6 million

Side note: Both Viktor and Leonhard are shown riding white horses - these are the famed Lipizzaner stallions, from the Spanish Riding School of Vienna, Austria

Other side note: Viktor’s typical outfit is clearly inspired by the military field uniform of Franz Josef I, Emperor of Austria (the white variant that the princes wear on some of the covers/inside art is the gala/formal version); the three medals shown on Viktor’s uniform are the Order of the Golden Fleece around his neck, what appears to be a simplified version of the Long Service Cross over his heart, and what appears to be a simplified version of a Knight Grand Cross of the Order of Maria Theresa just below that (a round circle with a cross).

90% of Granzreich’s population is Gherman (see below)

3% of Granzreich’s population is Kvel (see below)

Wienner (capital) (real world analogue: Vienna, Austria)

Wienner's population: ~1.3 million

Weissburg/Weisburg Palace (both spellings are used) (real world analogue: Hofburg Palace, Vienna, Austria) - specifically, the part often shown as denoting the palace is the Neue Berg wing

Karl Theater (real world analogue: Carltheater) - operettas

Remnant Theater (possible real world analogue: Raimund Theatre) - operettas

National Opera House (real world analogue: Staatsoper (originally Vienna Court Opera)) - opera house

National Art Museum (real world analogue: Kunsthistorisches Museum - directly opposite the palace, it is the largest art museum in the country; the image of the museum behind Heine when he announces the prize matches the façade of the building)

Granzreich University (real world analogue: there is no University of Austria, per se, but there is the University of Graz (the second largest city in Austria), which is the second largest and second oldest university in Austria)

Wienner University (real world analogue: University of Vienna, the building shown in both the anime and the manga is the main building - this is where Doctor Dmitri (and later Bruno) comes to lecture – it is also recognized as a leading institution for studies in Humanities – Bruno would do well here studying Philosophy!)

Prunksaal (real world analogue: Prunksaal) – the national library (also housed within the palace in another building)

Within the Prunksaal is the Royal Archive, where historical documents, judicial records, going back hundreds of years, and other documents the royal family keeps from one generation to another are preserved; only royals and a fraction of statesmen are permitted to use it (this is the place referenced in the anime that Prince Licht says even princes can’t visit without the king’s express permission)

The plaza/fountain where the KaseKrainer stand is (real world analogue: Donnerbrunnen Fountain in the center of the Neuer Markt)

Granzreich Military Academy (real world analogue: Theresian Military Academy (one of the oldest in the world) - yearly had 100 nobles and 100 commoners enrolled)

Princes are enrolled at the age of 15 (in-series)

Schwarz Palace (real world analogue: Schloss Neuwaldegg, aka Villa Schwarzenberg - at first I thought this was the Palais Schwarzenberg, but double-checking the architecture confirms it's the Schloss) - in-series, given to a general who played a major role in the war 150 years ago by the reigning king, Friedrich IV, and currently Prince Eins’ residence

Kohl Street, the site of Café Mitter Meyer's second location (real world analogue: Kohlmarkt, which is indeed right next to the palace, and leads past the Catholic Church of St. Peter)

The train station (mentioned in-series when Viktor gives directions, as well as the departure point for various trips) (real world analogue: Wien Südbahnhof, Vienna’s main train station)

Wienner Grand Hotel (mentioned in-series as Herman Koenig’s previous place of employ) (real world analogue: Grand Hotel Wien, Vienna’s first Grand Hotel, opened in 1870, and *the* last word in elegance - Herman would have worked in the Kavalierbar, the hotel’s bar/lounge)

Augustinian Church (Augustinerkirche) (not mentioned in series, just a useful note) - the parish church of the royal court (located next to the Hofburg)

Salzichl (the royal villa and hot springs) (real world analogue: the Kaiser Therme at Bad Ischl, aka the ‘Emperor’s Spa, favoured holiday resort of Emperor Franz Joseph I - and yes, the architecture as shown in the manga is exactly what the villa looks like... Leonhard would his own reasons to love it there, as it also has a renowned pastry shop)

OTHER NATIONS:

Fonsein/Fonseine (both spellings are used, though Fonseine is used more often) (real world analogue: France)

Capital - Fleur (real world analogue: Versailles - while the capital of France is actually Paris, Versailles was the primary residence of French royalty until the revolution, and the art in the manga depicts the Palace of Versailles and its famed gardens (which, as Bruno ruefully notes, are in fact larger than the gardens of Weissburg Palace, aka the Hofburg). Rather than differentiate between Versailles and Paris (approximately 15 miles away), the manga conflates the two of them together, as the map that Claude shows the princes depicts Paris’s center. Also, the manga accurately states it’s a half-day from Wienner to Fleur by train - at a guess, the train station that the princes arrive at is Gare de l’Est.) Some of the famous sights in Fleur include:

The Etoile Arc (real world analogue: the Arc de Triomphe, and as Claude points out, is a monument to France’s endurance through war and hardship, and is carved with bas-reliefs indicating peace and friendship)

The Opera House (real world analogue: the famed Paris Opera House (immortalized in literature by Gaston Leroux in his novel The Phantom of the Opera), stated to have been completed “five years ago” (as the Paris Opera House was completed in 1875, this puts the current date at 1880-ish)

The Art Museum (real world analogue: the museum depicted here is the Louvre, and Claude is not kidding when he says you could spend a week and STILL not see all the art museums in Paris)

The Cathedral (real world analogue: Notre-Dame de Paris - immortalized in literature by Victor Hugo is his novel The Hunchback of Notre Dame, although Leonhard possibly mis-translates Claude’s description as to when it was built - Notre-Dame de Paris was completed FIVE hundred and fifty years earlier, not FOUR hundred and fifty)

The Department Store (real world analogue: because the interior art is so limited, this is likely one of three places - Le Bon Marché, the Bazar de l’Hôtel de Ville (BHV), or Printemps Haussman)

Current queen: Queen Isabelle (distant blood relatives of the same family as the von Granzreichs) (real world analogue: debatable, as post-1870, France was ruled by republican government, rather than a monarchy - also as of Chapter 69, Claude confirms that his mother and father are both abroad (so yes, Isabelle is currently married).

Her son, Claude, first prince of Fonseine, the only child (and a child not much older than Adele, and THIS is Adele's intended fiance!) (I was under the impression she was affianced to someone else already!)

Granzreich and Fonseine have been in friendly relations for the past 200 years through royal intermarriage

AND EINS IS TO BE ENGAGED TO SOMEONE IN FONSEINE (correction - Eins is later revealed to be engaged to the Princess of Belgian (see below); however given the close intermarriages between their real world analogues of France, Austria, Spain, Germany, and Belgium, this may have been a negotiation point between Fonseine and Granzreich for upcoming treaties or other political purposes)

Beyer (real world analogue: Bavaria (southern state in Germany))

Belgian (real world analogue: Belgium)

Current queen: Queen Charlotte (real world analogue: Charlotte, Princess of Wales, wife to Leopold I of Belgium)

Princess Paola, second princess of Belgian (later referred to in Chap 77 as Charlotte) (real world analogue: Charlotte, later Empress of Mexico - possible reason for the name change is to avoid confusion - her brothers are also mentioned in the chapter... real life analogues for them would be Leopold II and Phillippe (their third brother died in infancy)

Viktor confirms in Chap 77 that the two nations are still on good terms

Ghermany (real world analogue: Germany)

Iel (real world analogue: Palestine/Israel)

Kingdom fell 1800 years ago. Kvel is used more as an indication of the Jewish populace rather than a specific nation, both in terms of bloodline and social/religious heritage

Madri (real world analogue: Spain)

Nederland/Neterlanden (both spellings are used) (real world analogue: the Netherlands)

Orosz (manga)/Erosz (anime) (real world analogue: Russia)

Capital - Pietarigrad (real world analogue: St. Petersburg - while the capital of Russia is Moscow, St. Petersburg (at one point named Petrograd) is Russia's second largest city, is Russia's cultural capital, and is the port city referenced here) (and it's 1800 km from Wienner to Pietarigrad, and the railroad route they show IS accurate to travel from Vienna to St. Petersburg!)

Grand Hotel Orosz (real world analogue: Grand Hotel Europe (confirmed via pictures of the architecture compared to the manga; opened in 1875, and one of the three most luxurious hotels in St Petersburg)

Orosz University (real world analogue: Saint Petersburg State University, the oldest university in Russia)

Doctor Dmitri references an art museum while discussing Pietarigrad (real world analogue: the Russian Museum)

Grand Theater (real world analogue: Mariinsky Theatre, the preeminent music theatre of late 19th century Russia, and the site of the premieres of most of Russia's most famous ballets, operas, and other music)

Romano (real world analogue: Russia or POSSIBLY Poland, more on that in a second)

King: Alexander Alexandrovitch Romano (real world analogue: Czar Alexander II)

Crown Prince Ivan Alexandrovitch Romano

Prince Eugene Alexandrovitch Romano

Russian uses patronymic names, so your middle name is a derivative of your parent)

ALTERNATE real world analogue: Poland - since Austria and Russia do not share a border (and mention is made of inspecting mines on the border between their nations), it’s possible that instead Romano (while borrowing heavily from Russian inspiration for names) is actually Poland. (Rationale: what is modern-day Czechia was originally part of the Austro-Hungarian empire, which DOES share a border with Poland.) While Polish is traditionally written in Latin script, it *can* be written in Cyrllic.

I’m still nailing down whether the Romano flag is based on an actual nation flag.

Venezia/Veneto (both are used) (real world analogue: Venice)

Laguna Empire (real world analogue: TBD)

Kingdom of Kataro (possible real world analogue: Qatar)

Yapan (real world analogue: Japan)

Eastern Continent (real world analogue: Asia)

Western Continent (real world analogue: Europe)

GRANZREICH’S ECONOMY:

1 florin = 100 kreutzer (real world analogue: the florin and the kreutzer, ratio the same following Austria-Hungary's decimalization of the currency system in 1857)

A doll costs 55 kreutzer

The Royal Guard makes 30k kreutzer/year (300 florins/year, as per the anime and the manga)

The ransom for Maximilian and Heine was to be 1500 florins, or 150,000 kreutzer… meaning the ransom for Kai at 1 million florins was 100 million kreutzer -- Heine wasn't kidding when he says it's the annual budget for a small country in the 1880s, (In the manga, the ransom is set at 300,000 florins for the prince, and 1500 florins for Heine and Maximilian)

Licht, on the other hand, earns 120 florins working at the cafe... which strikes me as odd because he only works one shift a week (even if a shift is potentially 12 hours). Now, this might actually be him figuring he works full-time, which would make more sense. But this has to be a YEARLY income, there’s no way he makes this much in a month if a member of the Royal Guard makes 300 florins a year.

Rosenberg quotes a rent of 150 florins for a 2br flat... again, this has to be for a year, there’s no way this is monthly.

Economic crisis 30 years ago (real world analogue: the European financial crisis beginning in the 1850s)

Granzreich's main industries: porcelain and wine

Also agriculture, according to the author's notes at the end of Vol 2

1880s TECHNOLOGY:

COMMUNICATION: Cables/telegrams are now fast enough for a 24-48hr message even all the way across Europe -- and crossing the English channel by ferry takes 1.5-2hrs

LOCAL TRAVEL: Primarily carriages, horseback, and walking -- trains are for longer-distance travel

INTERNATIONAL TRAVEL: You can get from London to Perm, Russia within SEVEN DAYS

TRAINS: The Orient Express (1883) went from Paris to Vienna in 15 hours overnight (not much different from now, actually!)

TELEPHONES: The telephone exchange does exist but the infrastructure is still VERY new and not heavily in use yet

POWER: Electricity is rapidly gaining ground for newer construction, but older buildings are still using gas, lamps, candles, etc.

1880′s EUROPEAN CULTURE:

Ballet, opera, operettas, plays, music

Social halls are still separated by 'class' (nobility vs commoner)

Popular dances in Europe at this point include the waltz (DUH, this is Vienna), the redowa, the mazurka, the polka (big shock with Germany next door), the cotillion, and the varsouvienne (another Polish dance)

Social etiquette at an event included the use of 'dance cards' (or fans!) - these were presented with a list of the songs/dances to be held over the course of the event, and if a gentleman wished to engage a lady for one, he wrote down his name (like making a reservation)

There is a TON of information out there about how one does (and does not) behave at a social event during that day and age, and safe bet that our dear princes have had it drilled into them from the time they were small. Some fun ones include:

WHY one wears gloves (because bare hands indicates holding hands, which is SHOCKINGLY intimate)

Not dancing with the same partner more than once (unless you're either engaged or about to be, because it puts you on intimate terms with your partner)

What is socially acceptable to eat at a party (the reason trifles and 'snacks' are served is so no one can embarrass themselves at table)

Games are occasionally combined with dancing (if you've seen AMADEUS, where during the masquerade they're playing Musical Chairs as they dance, and the loser has to pay a forfeit, you get the idea)

#the royal tutor #oushitsu kyoushi haine #fanfiction #writing

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gondalsqueen · 6 years

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Chapters: 8/? Fandom: Star Wars: Rebels Rating: Explicit Warnings: Major Character Death Relationships: Kanan Jarrus/Hera Syndulla Characters: Hera Syndulla, C1-10P | Chopper, Original Characters, Kanan Jarrus, Ezra Bridger, Sabine Wren, Garazeb "Zeb" Orrelios, Alexsandr Kallus, CT-7567 | Rex, Mart Mattin, Wedge Antilles Additional Tags: Pregnancy, vague mentions of abortion, future character death in the background, Season/Series 04, Established Relationship, Oral Sex, Chair Sex, Table Sex, sex during pregnancy, chapter 2 has lots of sex, Secrets, the best pilot in the galaxy, flying combat, character injury, canon torture, flight of the defender, rebel assault, Jedi Night, Major character death - Freeform, Grief, Morning Sickness, Counseling, Masturbation, Dreams, Traditions, Space family, Inappropriate bets, Lothal, Shopping, down time, Space Combat, Battle of Scarif, Rogue One - Freeform, hammerhead corvette!, Yavin 4, Stardust - Freeform

Summary: “Hey!” Zeb caught her at the ramp. “You have GOT to be kidding me.” “Why?” “Because that child is about to drop out of you at any moment, that’s why!” “It’s not an X-wing, Zeb. G Force isn’t that bad in the Ghost.” “So you’re going to fly into battle?” ... Yavin IV was busy, busy, busy. One of their spies had tied Order 13 to a program called “Stardust,” and they had something to do at last, just trying to unwind it all. Some sort of doomsday machine.

“Better that than those Defenders,” Hera remarked.

“Would you rather fight one convor the size of a rancor,” Zeb asked, “or a hundred rancors the size of convors?”

Sabine had come back from Lothal with her. “You’re funny,” she told Zeb.

“Hey, trying times! Somebody’s got to make an attempt at humor.”

“And we appreciate the attempt, Zeb,” Hera said, patronizing.

“You two always team up on me! I miss the boys.”

Sabine stuck her tongue out at him.

By night they were reading everything they could about babies, scrambling to get ready. “These texts are stupid!” Sabine would complain, waving a datapad. “They give directly contradictory information! And then they tell you you’re evil if you don’t do what they say.”

“What I want to know is how any babies have managed to survive at all, if you judge by the number of things you can screw up,” Zeb commented.

Chopper didn’t think it would be very hard. Ten pound Kanan Jarrus had to be easier to control than the larger version.

“Show me the science behind any of this!” Sabine continued her tirade. “This is all just opinion. Somebody has to have done good double blind studies on babies somewhere in this galaxy.”

When her own soon-to-be-baby kept her from sleeping, Hera scoured the holonet for anything related to hybrid Twi’lek/Human children. Despite the presence of what had to have been millions of children, they were statistically so rare that the medical studies weren’t particularly… informative. She had to resort to getting information from that least trustworthy of holonet locations, the messageboard. She took everything with about fifty grains of salt. “A hybrid child is special,” one woman wrote, just before advising sticking magnets to the baby’s skin to call down Force powers. Hera rolled her eyes. One father very practically advised: “Raise them somewhere diverse and the identity crisis won’t be much.” A third brutally honest mother said, “If you’re a human woman, just go straight for the c-section. It’s going to happen anyway.”

And there were pictures… A three-year-old with short lekku and marbled skin. A ten-year-old who had just won a sports tournament standing next to his father, whom he looked nothing like. A little girl with blue skin and two blue ponytails in place of lekku. Most of those children made through genetic matching and implanted embryos, wanted and tried for for years…

Most hybrid pregnancies didn’t make it, she discovered, the genetics too mismatched to create a viable child. Those invariably ended in early pregnancy, though, and the consensus was that any fetus who made it this far was probably safe. Hera recalled the weirdly appropriate adage about not counting your chickens before they’d hatched, but she wasn’t too worried. Any kid that could kick like that was bound to be healthy. And he looked good on all the scans.

The scans…

“Everything in the right place, everything the right size,” the technician had said at her last visit. “He’s playing with his hands. And look at this! Do you see that?”

Hera did not.

“He’s already got hair.”

Hair. Her child.

She should really have seen that coming, but it completely floored her.

She was thirty-nine weeks along—nearly full term for a human, not quite full term for a Twi’lek—when the Battle of Scarif took place. And she was too kriffing fat to make it to the war room when they called her.

But she heard the speech the Erso girl gave in replay, and she could have kicked herself for not being there to give it momentum. “What chance do we have?” They were Hera’s own words, angrier and more jaded, perhaps, more desperate, but the sentiment the same. “The question is what CHOICE?” Fight now or die.

When the klaxons went off, Hera all but ran towards the Ghost.

“Hey!” Zeb caught her at the ramp. “You have GOT to be kidding me.”

“Why?”

“Because that child is about to drop out of you at any moment, that’s why!”

“It’s not an X-wing, Zeb. G Force isn’t that bad in the Ghost.”

“So you’re going to fly into battle?”

Objectively, was her child’s life was more valuable than her own, or Zeb’s, or that of anybody else in the galaxy who would be murdered if they didn’t succeed? “Yes,” she answered.

“Hera, you’re—”

“Look,” she snapped. “It’s now or never for this fight. I’d rather have him die clean, not knowing any pain, than be hunted slowly, terrified. Or taken into some camp…” She trailed off. Did Zeb even know what she was imagining? Where did he think those Inquisitors came from? No, she’d rather have her child die now, with her.

Not that dying was going to happen.

“I’ve got nose gun,” Sabine called.

“Okay, okay,” Zeb grumbled. “IF you’re really going, nobody’s getting turret gun but me!”

From the Phantom’s rear guns, Chopper demanded to know what they were waiting for.

“Good, then,” Hera grinned. “Let’s go take some back from the Empire.”

Rex waved them off. “Good luck!”

“We don’t need luck!” Sabine told him. “We’ve got the Force!”

…

Scarif. Graveyard, the word would come to mean. Hera flew like she’d never flown in her life, the hundreds of ships around her tinged with light at the corners of her vision, her hands and mind just a half-step ahead of the chaos. This, strangely, was her peak. She kept them alive.

But they had to get that stupid kriffing planetary shield down. “Are you listening to the Admiral? Bombing runs!” she shouted over the chaos on the comms. “Aim for the ring! None of this matters if you don’t get the shield down!” They were still just flying defensive though, few of them even able to mount a run. And those who did were blown into shrapnel after one pass.

“Karabast!” Zeb had missed a line-up shot at two TIEs. It had been a bad angle anyway, and if they’d stayed there for another three seconds to get the shot, another fighter would have finished them off quickly.

“Hey!” Hera called over the pilot’s channel. “HEY! Get your heads on and work together! Y-wings make the bombing strikes, X-wings run defensive! Holy Force, people, get in the game!”

After that they got a couple more shots in. And then Admiral Raddus brought in the new hammerhead corvette, that beautiful beast of a ship, and Hera got to watch one of the more glorious wrecks of her career, that thing diving and just PLOWING through metal and it was… victory.

Pyrrhic victory.

They’d gotten the information out. Vader’s ship chased the Tantive IV away just before they jumped, but Tantive was fast, and they’d make it.

The Ghost came out of hyperspace a short jump later, one of the three steps that would take them back to Yavin.

“Holy kriff, Hera, that was some flying!” Sabine declared.

“Yeah.” She was still waiting for her breathing to recover. The Ghost’s shields were at more than half.

“You know if they chase Tantive IV down, they’re going to be coming for Yavin next,” Zeb told her.

“Yeah.”

“Did you SEE that thing? It’s operational.”

Chopper suggested several rude technical malfunctions he’d like to perform on that thing.

“Yeah, Chop, you show them.” Hera rolled her eyes.

“Hera—” From the nose gun, Sabine turned to look up at her, that straight-browed fretful face that she made. “Don’t go back to Yavin. It’s time for a break. Fly to Lothal.”

Her stomach twisted painfully at the suggestion. No, not her stomach—her uterus was taking up all the room these days.

“You can comm them that you’ve gone on leave. You should have gone a week ago.”

She did feel a little funny. Post-battle adrenaline probably, but who was to say?

“Okay.”

“Really?”

“Chopper, get down here and chart a course for Lothal.”

#swr spoilers #fanfiction #next season #scarif and victory

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iol247 · 4 years

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Battleground social media: How disinformation, propaganda and manipulation shape our online discourse

From Putin, Trump and Zuma directly to your screen – or via a myriad of intermediaries – the goal is the same: influence. In this multi-part series we explore how disinformation and propaganda flood our timelines and unmask some of the players involved.

18 May 2020 - Susan Comrie, Micah Reddy and Sam Sole

To live in the 21st century is to be manipulated.

From local mayors to Russian intelligence agencies to energy lobbyists and presidents, those seeking to boost their political power and influence increasingly turn to the dark arts of propaganda and disinformation to distort our world-view and further their agendas.

But these actors often rely on subterfuge, meaning that investigating the original source of disinformation is a bit like searching for a black hole: it cannot be seen, only inferred by watching how its gravitational pull re-arranges the universe.

Similarly, without a smoking gun – like the Bell Pottinger emails from the #GuptaLeaks – we can rarely see who directs disinformation and propaganda; we can only infer who may be responsible based on whose interests it serves and the faint trails it leaves in the political ether.

In South Africa, there is growing evidence that our social media space is manipulated by a wide range of actors: from the international white right to the fan club of former president Jacob Zuma.

For example, in recent years we have seen the rise of anonymous Twitter accounts, vocal activists and obscure non-profits that have taken to the streets, the courts and the pages of social media under the banner of “radical economic transformation”.

A mix of true believers, manipulators and opportunists, these groups raise genuine grievances about South Africa’s racially-skewed economy but also help to spread dangerous disinformation aimed at energising their base and targeting their perceived enemies.

Is there a hidden gravitational force pulling their strings? Is there a common goal that unites the defenders of former president Zuma with those championing economic reform and the energy lobby that is pushing for a Russian nuclear deal while also fighting to protect coal? Are there puppet-masters pulling the strings?

Armed with new evidence, including hundreds of messages from WhatsApp groups, we went looking for answers. This is what we found.

Chapter 1

The first missile hit at 1pm precisely.

“#HandsOffNUMSA. The Racist AmaBhungane is going after NUMSA because NUMSA has been vocal in its opposition against Independent Power Producers and has been winning Cases in Favor of Workers and Against Capitalists.”

The person holding the grenade launcher was Shampene Mphaloane, a young, dedicated proponent of radical economic transformation (RET). But at the time, we only knew him by the Twitter handle Superblack (@hostilenativ).

During the rest of the day – 20 September 2018 – he would send another 20 #HandsOffNumsa tweets, calling us “Stratcom”, “Racist Agenda setters” and “vile White Monopoly Capital bulldogs”.

Online abuse has become routine for amaBhungane since the first pro-Gupta trolls started targeting us on Twitter in 2016. What was unusual this time was that we were getting abuse before we had published our investigation.

Superblack (@hostilenativ): “AmaBhungane is drafting a Story to tarnish the reputation of NUMSA due to NUMSA’s opposition towards the IPPs and Privatization of Eskom. #HandsOffNUMSA”

Three days before, on 17 September, we had sent detailed questions to both Numsa general secretary Irvin Jim and the chairman of the Numsa Investment Company, Khandani Msibi. By 20 September, Superblack (@hostilenativ) not only knew about our questions, but knew who had sent them.

Superblack (@hostilenativ): “This is the Stratcom Agent behind the Propaganda Campaign against NUMSA and its General Secretary Irvin Jim. He always surfaces wherever the Interests of White Capital are at Stake. His name is Micah Reddy. He is also on the Soros Funded R2KCampaign #HandsOffNUMSA”

To which former ANC MP Tony Yengeni responded both menacingly and nonsensically: “Ive saved his face for the rainy day..”

***

The first thing Mphaloane wanted to know when we tracked him down was how we managed to link him to the Superblack (@hostilenativ) account.

We explained, then confronted him about the #HandsOffNumsa campaign.

“I didn’t necessarily run the campaign… I provided my opinion to the article,” he told us.

“[T]he investigative journalist at the time … sent a couple of questions to … a lot of people who were mentioned in the article, and they started to circulate the questions to quite a number of people, myself included. So, I started to comment around the article that was going to be published.”

Union sources confirmed that amaBhungane’s questions were circulated on WhatsApp. But evidence suggests Mphaloane was not just casually expressing his opinion.

Of the 41 tweets posted that day using #HandsOffNumsa, half came from Mphaloane’s Superblack (@hostilenativ) account.

So who is Mphaloane and why did he rush to Numsa’s defence?

***

The first time we heard Mphaloane’s name was when the newly-formed SA Natives Forum approached the Western Cape high court in February 2018, seeking to permanently stay the corruption charges against former president Zuma.

SA Natives Forum was registered eight days after Zuma resigned, and it waited just one day more before filing a 420-page application arguing that all criminal charges against Zuma should be dropped.

Mphaloane was both a director of SA Natives Forum and its spokesperson.

“We are an independent, non-partisan, social justice foundation and think tank. And that implies we are not related to any political party and we are independent,” he told the SABC’s Bongani Bingwa during an interview a month later.

“We’re not in touch with the former president at all,” he added.

On the question of who was funding the pro-Zuma case, Mphaloane was coy: “In so far as who’s funding us, we will release an audited financial statement at the end of the financial year…”

That never happened and Mphaloane now says that their lawyer, Lucky Thekisho, agreed to work on contingency: “Their argument was, if we win this, then we can try and get a cost order.”

Although Mphaloane studied chemical engineering, his CV describes his work at SA Natives Forum as “developing and managing a social media outlet … as well as providing advocacy and managing campaigns that are of national interest”.

By July 2018, he was looking for new opportunities. “My background is engineering but now I’m looking for anything so I can fund the struggle,” his Superblack alter ego tweeted.

***

Shortly after Superblack’s #HandsOffNumsa Twitter offensive, Mphaloane changed his LinkedIn profile to reflect his new job: claims specialist for 3Sixty, the life insurance company owned by the Numsa Investment Company and chaired, like its parent company, by Msibi.

Two weeks later, in mid-October 2018, amaBhungane published the results of its investigation – Numsa cornered by capital? – alleging that Msibi used his position at the Numsa Investment Company and its financial resources to gain political influence in Numsa, pushing both the union and Jim, its general secretary, closer towards the Zuma faction.

Once again, Mphaloane hit back:

Superblack (@hostilenativ): “Forces of Imperialism are not happy that NUMSA has a thriving Investment Arm that can fund NUMSA’s litigation against IPPs so this is how lauch their attack. Mass media propaganda. #HandsOffNUMSA”

What followers of Superblack were not told was that he was being paid a salary by the company he was defending.

We put it to Mphaloane that it looked like he was using an anonymous account to attack his employer’s perceived enemies. “Where am I attacking? There’s a difference between attacking and responding to an article… I just have my own opinion which I’m expressing.”

We put this apparent coincidence to Msibi too: “I know Shampene but I didn’t know [Superblack] was his account,” he claimed before doubling down: “AmaBhungane did write a story about me … you had a campaign against me.”

Is it plausible that Msibi was unaware that he had such a prominent RET champion working under his roof?

Access the documents we used for this investigation, by clicking on the Evidence docket.

Two sources from the Numsa Investment Company told us that Mphaloane and Msibi had a close relationship – although both denied it. One incident both sources recalled was when Mphaloane’s work laptop was stolen, and Msibi personally intervened to ensure he received a replacement.

But in a group with 1 200 employees, that kind of personal attention stood out.

Msibi did not deny this but explained: “Shampene … didn’t have a laptop because his was stolen and some senior person resigned and his was available. I was not going to get a new laptop bought when there was a laptop lying around of a senior person. Why can’t he use it?”

***

“A lot of things are just coincidental,” Msibi told us. “Shampene, if he is [Superblack], I don’t think he has that many followers to actually be having any impact online.”

In fact, Superblack (@hostilenativ) has more than 32 000 followers, making Mphaloane an influential voice on Twitter and an amplifier for his politically outspoken boss, whom he regularly retweets.

Before and after: Superblack (@hostilenativ) was one of the most popular accounts on RET Twitter. It was deactivated last week after amaBhungane started asking questions.

“[I]nitially when I started this account, I just wanted to give my own view into things… But it was not my intention to remain anonymous, I was not trying to hide something,” Mphaloane told us.

But a few days after our phonecall, the Superblack (@hostilenativ) account was deactivated.

The evidence suggests that Mphaloane used his Twitter alter-ego to target Numsa and Msibi’s perceived enemies.

The question is, would he do the same for the pro-Zuma lobby?

What we would discover is that a WhatsApp group had been set up with this in mind.

https://amabhungane.org/stories/battleground-social-media-how-disinformation-propaganda-and-manipulation-shape-our-online-discourse/

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theartofbeinganerd · 7 years

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So, I know I finished posting a hand to hold (take me home), but I kind of lied by saying it was over - here’s a lil one shot that takes place between Chapter Eleven and the Epilogue, Jemma’s pov of finding out that Fitz is in the hospital. But this time it really is over, I promise!

(Ao3)

It was a simple, average, ordinary day, one where Jemma had expected to get some household chores done, see Fitz, Daisy, and Trip later for dinner, and then go to the hospital for her shift that night. Even with everything that had been happening as of late, she never expected or planned on the day going so horribly wrong.

In fact, when she got the call, Jemma was in the middle of doing some laundry – something that she was in desperate need of, given the sad state of the remaining clothes in her closet, along with her overflowing hamper. The sound of her phone ringing echoing through her flat had her abandoning the half-filled washing machine to return to the kitchen table, where she’d left the phone. A quick look at the screen revealed the name ‘Daisy’, and she couldn’t quite help the face that she made in response, wondering what Daisy’s latest attempt to get her to admit to the feelings her friend ‘just knew’ that she had for Fitz would include.

Regardless of the fact that the following conversation would no doubt have her rolling her eyes soon enough, Jemma answered the call and greeted her friend pleasantly, “Hello, Daisy. How are you today?”

Daisy sounded almost out of breath on the other line, and it caused Jemma’s smile to quickly drop into a concerned frown. “Jemma, I… Well, okay, don’t freak out, alright?”

Contrary to Daisy’s plea, Jemma could already feel her heartbeat picking up speed in her chest, leaving her own breath coming with a bit more difficulty. “What is it?” she managed to get out around her sudden panic, though her tone wasn’t more than a whisper. She didn’t bother to agree to Daisy’s request – she’d ‘freak out’ if it was required, thank you very much.

“Um…well, er…Fitz is kind of in the hospital.”

Feeling very faint all of a sudden, Jemma scrabbled for the nearest chair, yanking it out from the table so that she could sink down into it. Her breath was coming even more quickly now, her lungs seemingly refusing to work correctly, and was it hot in there? “Oh my god.”

“But like, he’s fine! Just a little bullet wound, and he’s in surgery now, and I’ve talked to the doctor, and he said that all they need to do is get the bullet out and sew him back up and he’ll be his annoying Fitzy self in no time!”

Daisy’s attempt at reassuring words fell horribly flat, and Jemma lifted a hand to the center of her chest, trying to calm the racing heart beneath her palm without success. “Where?”

“Oh, well, it’s in his thigh. He’s probably gonna bitch about crutches, if he needs them, which he probably will, but –”

“How did this even happen? Neither of you are on duty!” Jemma’s voice rose a few octaves above normal as she cut into Daisy’s anxiety-ridden attempts at casual conversation.

“Um…that’s kind of…my fault. You see, turns out that the one doing all the…er…killing, was my ex-boyfriend, you know, Ward? So I kind of…well okay, I dragged Fitz over there with me to question him this morning, and it turned into a shootout, so…” She released a long, slow breath, then added softly, “I’m sorry, Jemma.”

“I can’t keep doing this,” Jemma mumbled, almost to herself, running a hand through her hair and shaking her head absently as tears that she refused to shed just yet began to build. It could have been so much worse – it had been his leg this time, but it just as easily could have been his heart, or his head, or somewhere else that would have resulted in a much worse call from Daisy. “I…I’m heading over now, okay?”

“Okay. I have to get back to the station to debrief with Coulson, so it’ll be good for him to have someone with him.”

“Alright.” Jemma hesitated, then added, “Thank you, Daisy. For…letting me know.”

“Of course.”

After hanging up with Daisy, Jemma threw on a pair of shoes, grabbed her purse, and made it to the hospital in record time, even though she knew it was ridiculous to do so; she knew from experience that Fitz would still be in surgery for some time. She was right, of course, and ended up spending a fair bit of time in the waiting room, though she was easily able to get updates from the nurses. She wasn’t close friends with any of them, just acquaintances, but they did know that Fitz was her friend, had seen him around the hospital or heard her mention him in passing enough.

However, from the looks that they all were shooting at Jemma as they disappeared back through the double doors of the emergency room, she had the strangest feeling that they knew far more about her feelings for Fitz than she’d ever admitted to aloud.

Left with an abundance of free time to do nothing but sit and think, Jemma couldn’t help but wonder if the decision that she’d made in the weeks since she and Fitz had just about kissed in his hospital room, the decision to finally take a chance and go forward with their relationship, was the best one. She knew that she cared about him more than she’d ever cared about anyone, and she knew that her heart ached when she was away from him and that she worried about him out there in the line of fire, but…

But that was the thing, wasn’t it? She had to constantly worry about what could happen to him, what horrible things out there could harm him, or so much worse, every single night. If she went through with it, how many more calls like this would she be destined to receive?

Jemma didn’t know if she could handle even one more.

When her colleague Dr. Campbell, who had been seeing to Fitz, finally came out to tell her that he was awake and that she could go see him, Jemma wasn’t any closer to puzzling things out. However, as she stepped through the door and came upon the sight of Fitz lying there helplessly in the hospital bed, hooked up to an IV and heart monitor, her chest tightened to the point of pain and she knew her answer.

“Je-Jem-Je…” he mumbled, still woozy and quite out of it from the surgery and the pain meds.

“Shhh,” Jemma murmured, crossing the room with quickened strides to stand at his side. “Shhh, Fitz.” His eyes were wide and trusting and so, so blue as he stared up at her, and Jemma felt her heart breaking apart in her chest. The tears that she’d refused to shed before were back with a vengeance, pricking at the backs of her eyes and begging to be released, but she pressed her lips tight together and forced herself to hold it in for him. He didn’t need the first thing that he saw after having a bullet removed from his leg to be her sobbing over him.

Lovingly, she brushed her fingers through his curls, and the tears very nearly burst free anyway when she found that they were just as soft as they looked; though she’d never admit it out loud, she’d always wondered about that. Fitz’s eyes fell shut a bit, a little smile playing on his lips as he clearly enjoyed the soothing gesture, and the thought popped abruptly into her head that he almost looked like a cat being petted.

The analogy brought a small smile of her own to her lips, but it quickly faded as she remembered that this would likely be the only time that she’d ever get to experience this quiet intimacy with him. It was by her own choice, but god, it was the hardest choice that she’d ever had to and likely would ever make.

“Jemma,” he sighed, but it was faint, and she figured that he was likely falling back into the clutches of sleep, which was good, because he would certainly need his rest to begin healing from his injury. He turned his head, and lazily, almost absently, nuzzled his face against her hand, and Jemma’s free hand flew up to her mouth to cover the broken sob that she couldn’t quite hold back. She squeezed her eyes shut tightly, pressing her fingers tight to her skin.

This was everything that she’d wanted for what felt like so long now, and it was such a cruel tease to suddenly have it, only for it to be taken from her. It just wasn’t fair that the world seemed bound and determined to keep them apart, when all Jemma wanted was to be closer to him, to never be parted from him.

After a long moment, when Jemma felt reasonably sure that she wouldn’t break apart at the slightest provocation, she reopened her eyes and found that he certainly was asleep, his eyes closed and his lips parted slightly to let out a soft rush of breath.

“Oh Fitz,” she whispered, giving a little shake of her head. “I want to be angry with you, but you make it damn near impossible sometimes.” Then, despite knowing that he couldn’t hear her, she quickly tacked on, “About making me care so much about you, not about getting shot – I am so angry with you about that.” In the hall outside, Jemma could hear Daisy and Trip’s familiar albeit quiet voices growing closer and closer, so she leaned down and pressed a soft but lingering kiss to his forehead. “I’m so sorry, Fitz.”

With a brush of her fingers against his cheek, she forced herself to leave his side and then the room itself, nearly stumbling right into Daisy on her way out the door. “Whoa, Jemma, hey, what’s the rush?”

“My shift’s about to start,” Jemma explained, darting a glance back at the clock in Fitz’s room to find that it was actually true. Thank god for small miracles.

Daisy frowned at her, her narrowed eyes taking Jemma in carefully, almost suspiciously. Slowly, though, she said, “Okay…I’ll see you soon, then?”

“Yes, alright,” Jemma agreed breezily, forcing the familiar faux-cheerful tone that she’d perfected long ago in her career and not quite meeting Daisy’s intense gaze. She knew that Daisy was going to be at Fitz’s bedside until the hospital released him or they dragged her away, and as much as Jemma knew that she’d rather be right there beside her than anywhere else, it would only make things more painful in the long run. As difficult as it was going to be, she was going to have to force herself to stay away.

Hopefully, maybe, if she was lucky, it would ease the ache of separating herself completely from Fitz. Truthfully, though, she was far from naïve enough to believe that it actually would at all.

Without much else said between the three of them, Jemma thankfully managed to slip away, and found herself in one of the restrooms nearby. She had never been as staggeringly grateful before that they had single-stall restrooms as she was when she locked the door behind her, sunk into a crouch against it, buried her face in her hands, and finally released the tears that had been aching to be shed since she’d first gotten the call.

#shayna writes #fsfic #fitzsimmons #a hand to hold (take me home)#police officer au #extra chapter #one shot #jemma pov #just because i never showed jemma's pov #and what she was thinking during this fic #interests me quite a bit

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