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heliads · 3 years

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Secrets Kept

Based on this request: “thomas x reader and one of the other people are being rude and they slap her and they get all worked up and mad? (maybe the person is making fun of her because she got attacked by a griever (she’s a runner) and minho had to help, but minho also stands up for her)”

masterlist

You’ve been running in the Maze for maybe an hour, maybe more. It’s not long enough. It’s funny how every morning, you wake up and manage to convince yourself that being a Runner is easier than you think, that you’ll be able to keep moving endlessly and never have a problem with it. You seem to forget how hard your job is overnight, but you’re reminded of it every single morning. To be honest, you’re not sure what you expected when you signed up to be a Runner in the first place, but the constant exhaustion is just one of the side effects.

That being said, you wouldn’t trade this job for anything. A slight grin appears on your face as you look around you, tilting your head up to feel the breeze whipping around the corners of the Maze. Your mind is turning, thinking of ways to remember every hall and corridor that you cross. Beside you, your running partner turns to you, eyebrows raised over your apparent delight. This causes Minho’s attention to be focused solely on you, which is why he doesn’t notice your boyfriend, Thomas, appearing down a nearby corridor.

Your eyes widen imperceptibly. Thomas isn’t supposed to be here, not at all. You joined the ranks of the Runners a long time ago, way before Thomas even showed up here and wanted to risk his neck with the rest of you. That meant that he would be a part of a different pair of runners, one that wasn’t you and Minho, and that he would be assigned a completely different part of the Maze to run for today. Ever since the Gladers discovered that different sectors of the Maze opened at different times, they carefully divided each sector into runnable routes that were parceled out to the various pairs of Runners. Basically, all of this means that you shouldn’t once see Thomas during the entirety of your daily run, yet here he is now.

You think you know why he’s here, though. Your theory is proven when Thomas stumbles to a halt mid-step after realizing that Minho is seconds away from discovering you, and quickly stumbles behind a wall of the Maze for cover. When he peeks out again, he’s got a smirk on his face that tells you that the added danger of getting caught is only making him more willing to risk discovery.

Why is he here, then? Well, it’s probably because you’re dating Thomas, or at least you have in secret. Once you showed up to the Glade and became the first girl to add to their numbers, Alby set in motion a rule that none of the boys could even come near you. They could be friends all they wanted, but the second they looked at you with a desire for something more, they’d be thrown in the Slammer before they could say ‘I escaped the friend zone’.

You’ve been perfectly fine with this rule. There are enough gaping boys in the Glade that make you more than alright that Alby gives any flirting slintheads a death glare. However, when Thomas showed up, you just couldn’t stick to the plan. He was kind to you, and it seemed like he was the first one to truly listen to you for a very long time. When you spoke about anything, when you even so much as sat next to him, Thomas would look at you with this soft smile that made you want to reach over and kiss him right then and there.

You’d been afraid to do something, at first. What if you misread something and suddenly it was you crossing his boundaries as opposed to any one of the Gladers with you? Then, one night at the Bonfire, Thomas had been walking you back to the Homestead when he’d turned to you with this look in your eyes, one that made you shiver slightly despite the heat of the dark hour. He’d asked if he could kiss you, voice low and rumbling in the shadows, and you’d barely been able to nod your head yes from the thrill of it.

Ever since then, you’ve been happy enough to consider him your boyfriend. The problem is that Thomas still technically isn’t supposed to be seeing you, and the only way you can kiss him is if the two of you sneak out to the Deadheads or find time when nobody is around to reach over and wrap your arms around him. These come with an unsurprising rarity, as the Glade is practically overrun with shanks with little to no concept of personal space and privacy, so you have to make do with what you have.

This means that on days like today, when Thomas had been held back from seeing you even into the late hours of the night, he’s willing to stretch some rules and come find you himself. So, you turn to a still unsuspecting Minho, and gesture for him to go forward without you. “Tell you what, I’m going to fix my shoe. I think there’s something in it.” Minho starts to say something about how he’ll wait for you, but you hurriedly wave his concerns away. “I’ll be fine, don’t worry about me. You go ahead and I’ll catch up.”

Minho hesitates one last moment then shrugs, turning to keep running. You watch him go, afraid to make the slightest of motions towards the general area behind you where you spotted Thomas, lest your running partner suspect something and come back to you. Minho’s just disappeared around a corner when a pair of hands descend on your hips, spinning around to come face to face with Thomas, who’s wearing a particularly proud grin at the look of surprise on your face.

You reach forward to smack his arm. “Slinthead. I thought a Griever was sneaking up behind me.” Thomas just laughs. “I don’t think Grievers look this good.” You try to hold back a laugh of your own. “Good to know that your pride hasn’t been hurt by you bending the rules all the time. We could get caught, you know.” Thomas just lifts a shoulder in dismissal. “I’m dating the prettiest girl in the Glade. I’d say that’s worth going behind Alby’s back.”

You fight to keep heat from rising to your cheeks. “The prettiest girl in the Glade? Thomas, I’m the only girl in the Glade.” Thomas smirks. “Doesn’t mean it’s not true. Just accept the compliment, Y/N.” You open your mouth to protest, but you’re effectively silenced when Thomas leans forward to kiss you. Suddenly, all of your complaints are evaporating into the hot air of the Maze.

You allow yourself a few minutes of this before you reluctantly bid Thomas farewell. Despite being able to throw Minho off your tail for a little while, you can only ‘fix your shoe’ for so long before the boy starts to suspect something. When Thomas finally lets you go with a goodbye kiss and you jog down the labyrinthine corridors in search of your running partner, you do so with a smile. How’d you get this lucky?

You find Minho after a little while, who offers up a few joking criticisms about how long it takes you to tie your shoes. You bear these with a smile, knowing that your real reason for being late is something that far outweighs any of Minho’s sarcastic comments. The two of you run for a little longer before heading further into the center of the Maze. It is only there, once you’re as far away from the Glade as you could possibly be, that you realize that something is wrong. It feels as if you’re suddenly not alone, that you and Minho aren’t the only ones lurking in these corridors.

Seconds later, something heavy comes to an abrupt stop in front of you. You and Minho rear back in identical shock, staring at the Griever, the one that’s just jumped down from the walls of the Maze to land a few feet ahead of you. You gaze at it unthinkingly, unable to move a muscle despite all of your body screaming for you to run. “How is it here? I thought Grievers weren’t supposed to come out during the day!”

Minho gulps beside you. “They’re not, but this one’s here anyway. Run!” That’s all the incentive you need for your legs to start working again, and the two of you turn and sprint in unison. Your feet are pounding down the ground, your body focused on the sole goal of surviving. You thought you were tired before, but all of that exhaustion is gone now, replaced by an intense adrenaline rush that leaves you feeling as if you’ve got all the energy in the world.

You race around corners and down straightaways, your breath coming hard in your chest. Despite the fact that you’re running as fast as you can, you almost get the feeling that the Griever is toying with you, not going after you with as much force as it could truly muster. Indeed, once you’re almost to the final corridors separating you and the Glade, it seems to draw back, disappearing into the halls of the Maze once more.

You turn to Minho, gasping for breath after your abrupt sprint. “What was that about? Why did it stop?” Minho shrugs, hands on his knees for any kind of support. “I don’t know. Maybe it wanted to stop us from going too far. Maybe we were going to see something that it didn’t want us to see. All I know is that I’m pretty shucking happy that we’re still alive.” You manage to limp over to him, slapping him on the back. “You can say that again. Let’s go tell Alby that we’re the two unluckiest shanks in the Glade to stumble upon a Griever in the middle of the day.”

Alby is, unsurprisingly, stunned by this news. This contradicts everything you’ve thought of the Grievers and the Maze before today. No matter how strange your living situation in the Maze is, the rules have never changed- Grievers come out during the night, and the night only. No one has any idea what to think now that this has changed, and to be honest, no one really wants to think about what happened. In the end, Alby decides that there’s nothing you can do about it except tell everybody to be careful.

As a result of this, you see a lot of somber faces around the Glade that afternoon. Everyone’s clustered into tight groups, talking in hushed voices about obviously critical topics that no doubt revolve around your little Griever incident. When Thomas comes back from his run in the Maze, you see his face fall in an instant when he hears what happened. He starts to come your way, expression twisted with concern, but you shake your head once. Technically, you’re not supposed to know Thomas that well at all. Let Newt handle him- despite everything, you still can’t blow your cover and reveal to everyone that you’re dating.

Still, the anxious mood persists around the Gladers. Gally eventually gives in and asks Alby for a Bonfire Night, which the older boy approves. This is basically just an excuse to light things on fire and pass around Gally’s suspicious brew, but everyone’s so keyed up over what just happened that Alby decides everyone needs a night to have fun. Once the glasses of amber liquid start getting passed around, though, you begin to think that it might not have been such a good idea after all.

Once fear mixes with Gally’s concoction, people start getting louder, their friendly punches in the fighting ring less charming and more antagonistic. You decide to leave early, already tired of the signs pointing to the fact that this night will not be going well. However, you’re barely taken a few steps away from your seat before one of the more drunk Builders stops you in your tracks.

“Where are you going, Y/N? Running away again?” You raise an eyebrow. “Excuse me?” The Builder scoffs. “We all know what happened with the Griever. You saw it and ran away. Big bunch of nothing for someone who’s supposed to be one of the bravest Runners we’ve got.” You fold your arms over your chest incredulously. “Then feel free to take my job. I’m sure all of your experience stacking bricks will help you deal with a monster as tall as a house.”

The Builder’s smug smile drops. “Are you calling me a coward?” You snort. “I’m calling you weak. Get out of my way, I don’t want to deal with you tonight.” You move to walk past him, but the Builder just shifts to block your way again. “Like shuck. You don’t get to call me weak.” You stare back at him, feeling anger starting to rise up in your chest. “And you don’t get to call me a coward. You wouldn’t know bravery if it hit you over the head.”

This is probably a bad idea, you know that. This thought is proven correct when the Builder’s hand moves in a blur across your field of vision, and seconds later, your hand is coming away from your nose. There’s a streak of red across your fingers that tells you that he’s hit you hard, harder than he should have for what was supposed to be a friendly bonfire night.

Already, there are outraged shouts coming from around you, Gladers already starting to come to your defense. The loudest one, though, is from the boy who’s already by your side. Somehow, you’re not surprised that Thomas is already here. He probably would have punched the guy already, were it not for the fact that Minho and Newt both are holding him back. “Don’t you dare hit her. Don’t you dare.”

The Builder chuckles, although you can tell that he’s afraid. “What are you going to do? Hit me? We’ll just be together in the Slammer.” Thomas stops fighting against Minho and Newt, fixing the Builder with a death glare that makes the boy flinch. “You wish. Were it not for the fact that I actually give a damn about what’s supposed to happen around here, you’d be on the ground, trust me.”

The Builder raises an eyebrow, trying to add to his tough-guy demeanor in the hopes that it’ll cover up for the fact that he’s slowly trying to back away. “What do you care about what I do? This doesn’t concern you.” Thomas takes a step forward, and the Builder practically shrinks back. “Actually, it does. Y/N’s braver than you could ever dream of being. Do you know what it’s like to come face to face with a Griever? The fact that she’s not dead should tell you something about how tough she is. And yes, this does concern me, because she’s my girlfriend.”

Silence falls around the Bonfire at Thomas’ words. He glances over at you now, realizing what he’s said. “Surprise.” You laugh in spite of yourself. “Well, it was going to come out eventually.” You reach over, slinging your arm around his shoulder. “Come on, let’s let Alby deal with this slinthead. We’ve got better things to do.” Thomas allows himself a grin, moving away with you. “That we do.”

maze runner tag list: secret bestie @underc0vercryptid, @ellobruv

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spacedikut · 3 years

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exam help ; spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader

summary: a self-indulgent blurb about spencer helping with exams :) 1.7k

a/n: first fic of the year :D happy 2021!

masterlist

Another anguish-filled screech reverberates from your and Spencer’s shared office, bringing even your pet fish in the tank to attention.

It’s the third one this hour. Spencer tries to ignore it, just like you told him to, but God you sound like you’re in pain and Spencer can’t exactly ignore that, can he? He loves you and cares for you and- oh. A thump reaches his ears. A textbook, maybe? Did you punch your textbook?

He considers for a moment that the neighbours will be alarmed, perhaps call the police or tentatively knock with a, “Is everything okay in there?”

It wouldn’t be the first time.

What would he tell them? Oh, my apologies, my partner has exams coming up and just told me they get why unsubs do that now. I am also terrified.

There are many instances where Spencer feels useless. During his job, when his mother would have an episode, when his friends have problems he just wouldn’t understand. But, somehow, and maybe controversially, this is the worst type of uselessness. The type that leaves him staring at the wall, questioning everything, the type that makes his stomach drop because all he can do is watch.

He’s been watching you for the last two weeks. He’s sick of watching, of being no help, and he needs to do something before he breaks and does something illegal.

(The illegal thing is doing your exams for you - not illegal as in, perhaps, murder)

Your frazzled head pops out from the office, one hand rubbing your eyes and a permanent frown etched on your face, and with a fragile voice you ask, “Can you make me a coffee, please?”

Now, Spencer feels hypocritical, but he has to say it. “Another? Are you sure?”

He sees the internal battle within you, how you try your hardest not to snap. It’s not his fault you’re stressed. He’s just trying to help. “Yes, I’m sure. Please, Spence,”

“Of course. I’ll bring it in.”

“Thank you.” With a pained smile, you’re gone again into the dark abyss of where you’re studying.

With quick, ingrained movements, Spencer makes your coffee with too much creamer and marshmallows. Unusual, yes, but your current diet consists of coffee and whatever he can force you to consume – like marshmallows.

But then, hello, he spots a chocolate bar haphazardly close to the bin, grabs it, and hopes you let him watch you eat it.

Stepping into the room as quietly as possible, he’s smacked in the face by the smell of lavender. It makes him nauseous, the intensity of it, quickly followed by a lurch of his heart because you poor thing, you’re being crushed by the weight of your degree – literally. The other day you purchased an insanely heavy weighted blanket and you’re drowning in it.

Now, if you were to ask Spencer who the most beautiful person on the planet is, he’d say you in a heartbeat. He’s thought that since you first met and, years later, still stands by that. But now, right now, glowering at him in the dimly lit, lavender drenched study that you used to love oh-so-much? You have the face of a French bulldog, all grumpy and furrowed and too many creases on your face to make Spencer feel like he’s actually helping when he places the coffee and snack on your desk.

Despite the crabby expression, your words are filled with love and appreciation – which happens to be Spencer’s favourite mix. “Thank you, my love.” You take a sip of the coffee, hum in delight, and for the first time in days there’s a spark of something other than torment. “You’re the best.”

Spencer’s hand holds the back of your neck and he places a series of soft kisses to your temple, mumbling, “I love you. Very much. Is there anything else you need?”

“Death.”

“Okay. I’ll work on it.”

At that, you grace Spencer with a weak half-smile. It’s enough to overwhelm Spencer, overflowing and only able to be shown through a chaste, encouraging peck on your lips and a half-hug, Spencer bent at the waist to hold you in your desk chair. He noses your hair, hoping his closeness will alleviate some stress, before stepping back and praying his eyes tell you everything he wants to say but know will elicit annoyance from you.

I love you. Take care of yourself. Rest, please. You can do this, but not if you over exert yourself. I love you.

Your eyes tell him, I’ll try. I love you. And that’s all he can ask for.

But when he leaves, shuffles past his bookshelf, his eyes catch sight of an old file that reminds him of when he was preparing for his own exams.

He gets an idea.

+++

It takes another two days, full of late nights involving work that isn’t staying up and distracting himself with books to avoid worrying over you and how late you go to sleep, and reading that leaves Spencer in awe of you and everyone in your field.

A part of him is amazed by how he wheelbarrowed the resources behind you without you noticing, another is worried about that fact, and the rest of him is excited that he can finally do something that will actually help. At least, he hopes.

(When everything is said and done, despite being endlessly grateful, you also inform Spencer that simply being there and being him and getting you coffee every time you ask is more than enough, really)

With pride, he leans back on the couch, observing his creations on the coffee table. There’s plenty of different colours, all representing a different topic, and he presses the thumbs up to like the Youtube video he was using to ensure his handwriting is easy to read.

Flashcards. Hundreds, if Spencer counted correctly. The textbooks he stole – borrowed – from under your nose lie next to his feet, the weight of them combined more of a workout than he’s (voluntarily) done in eons.

He only hopes you don’t think it’s too late, think he’s overstepping or-or that he’s doing those things that he’s been accused of before – thinking he knows best (he does, but whatever), overbearing arrogance, an unwillingness to hear and accept other people’s way of doing things.

He just wants to help. He wants you to know he’s here for you, no matter what you need. This is the thing that lets him believe he’s doing something, something good and useful. Spencer just wants to be useful.

He’s convinced you to eat a proper breakfast – fruit, oats, bread, meat, a whole buffet – and you sense something is amiss when you hear slow, tentative footsteps creeping from your bedroom.

Spencer, still in his pyjamas, glasses perched on his nose, approaches with a shallow box in his grasp. You swallow your bite, turn to face him. “What’ve you got there?”

The box is slid onto the counter next to your plate hesitantly, as if he regrets his actions as he’s doing them. Peering in, you see a blur of colour, stacks on stacks of rectangular paper filled with writing and questions and even a tips! section.

You pick up the first batch, all light blue, and flick through them, heart getting bigger and bigger with every word you read. And when you realise what they are, what Spencer’s done – for you – your heartrate has skyrocketed and the watch on your wrist is asking you if you’re okay.

“You made me flashcards?” You ask, in awe, again looking at the love of your life to find he’s already staring at you.

“I did,” He tells you, apprehensive and scared, already backtracking, “But, if you don’t think they’re useful, or-or you think I’m overstepping – I’m not trying to, I promise, I just thought…” He starts nervously shuffling and reshuffling some of his creation. “Flashcards are known to engage active recall and metacognition. Research consistently finds that applying metacognitive strategies tends to ingrain memories deeper into your knowledge, and that this kind of active recall retrieval practice leads to one-hundred and fifty percent better retention than passive studying, so…”

Your hands have a mind of their own, pulling what feels like an endless amount of cards out and turning them in your hands, from the questions on the front to the answers on the back, the ones with hints and advice and there’s several with doodles that are so Spencer you hold them to your chest. You’re so enamoured by this man that is still rambling and bumbling because he takes your silence as distaste.

“I just- I hate seeing you so stressed, so I made these. You don’t have to use them, of course. They’re not even that great. It’s not that I don’t think you’re capable, you’re beyond capable, or that your methods don’t work- Just, personally, I love flashcards. I used them all the time when studying, even though I didn’t really need them, so perhaps a change of medium would do you good-“

A warm hand on his own that keep fidgeting stops him mid-stream of consciousness.

“Thank you,” You say, earnestly, “Really. These are lovely.” You leap from your seat, wrapping Spencer in warmth and love and care, and he shivers when he feels your hot breath on his ear when you repeat your thanks again and again.

When he pulls you even closer, so your torso curves into his own, you feel the lightest you have in weeks. You’re in the arms of the man you love, who knows you love him too and you know loves you so much – enough to spend several nights reading your cursed textbooks so he could create something that might help – and now you’re confident that you can do it. With the help of Spencer and his lovingly hand-made flashcards, you can do it.

And if, somehow, it goes awry, that’s okay too. Because you’ll still have Spencer, your number one fan, who will be there to comfort you and advise you in any way he can. He’ll never let you doubt yourself, never allow a self-deprecating joke if he can help it, because if he has to, he’ll love and support you enough for the both of you until you can do it yourself.

The world feels a little brighter, your breaths feel a little lighter, all because of Spencer. So you kiss him, murmur love against his lips, and get ready to take on whatever dares to come your way.

+++

tags: @pinkdiamond1016 @bluerose512 @andreasworlsboring101 @roses-and-grasses @ta-ka-shi-ma @ogmilkis @chiffonchronicles @rexorangecouny @unmistakablyunknown @goofygubler14 @gublertoon @averyhotchner @wheeledup @shadyladyperfection @joodeduarte @calm-and-doctor @

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x y/n #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #mine #the end is super cheesy but #eeeeeeeeeeeeee

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fbfh · 3 years

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dave strider dating headcanons

1k words, spoiler free

warnings: some swearing, mentions of brief fears (spiders, heights, loud noises), some swearing

pairing: dave strider x gn reader, optional brief skirt wearing

a/n: I am still in act 4 of homestuck so pls !! no spoilers !! take my interpretation of the characters with a grain of salt !!

also why is there no homestuck x reader fics?????? Am I looking in the wrong place????? Why are there barely 80 dave x reader fics on ao3 and almost none on tumblr??????? Did homestuck’s popularity just miss the x reader fic train???????? if so I fully intend to fix that (this is the first two or so pages of my dave dating hcs doc, I’m on page five and show no signs of stopping)

also since I’m still in act 4 right now I’m only writing for Dave, probably Jade, John, and Rose (maybe some of the trolls but it’ll be on a case by case basis until I feel like I know them well enough to write for them)

aged up to 18+ for moderate sex jokes lol

Someone told me once that they think Dave is the only character they know of who can match my feral chaotic energy

And honestly I have to agree

Dave is a very strategically feral, chaotic person

You know that thing where

Wait I’ll see if I can link it here

I can’t find the post but

I forget what it said verbatim

But basically that if you want to take the piss out of someone who has an Intellectual Superiority Complex you just need to act brazenly confident and sure about something you know is incorrect and as long as you don’t let on that you’re joking they’ll argue with you endlessly and it’s fucking hysterical

Dave does that

All the time

He will deadass argue with the Smart Kid in his class that the moon is fake for hours

He’ll argue endlessly that Terry Crews, Kevin Hart, and Kevin James are the same person shifting forms with randos online

He does that thing where he one ups conspiracies with more outlandish conspiracies

“The moon landing is fake”

“Uh, bro, you still believe in the moon?”

You got a truly delightful video once of him arguing with a smart kid in class about one of those ridiculous topics

Like glinda being a princess

He leans forward, tilts his glasses, and says in the most confident self assured voice

“Okay- riddle me this, bro,”

He points to the guy

“If pee isn’t stored in the balls, where do you hold it? In your hands?”

The entire class erupts into screaming laughs

The teacher enters to the guy getting up in Dave’s face screaming about sperm and piss

Both of them got a detention

If you can match his irony and sense of humor beat for beat

His brain goes into in love overdrive

You basically never “break character” and it’s fucking immaculate

He didn’t know you could vibe so well with someone

Every bad joke you make

Every meme reference

Every act of idiocy for the sake of the joke

He falls harder

It’s kind of scary for him at first

Having these raw genuine feelings so close to him

He covers with humor as usual

But part of him is freaking out a little

It’s sort of like finding a possum in your house

And then you realize there’s more possums hidden around

Then you run into the bathroom, look in your closet, check the pantry

There are possums everywhere

They don’t seem mean

They’re actually kind of cute

But what the fuck

Aren’t possums usually supposed to stay outside?????

So yeah when he falls he falls hard

I might do Dave crushing on you hcs too

One of his favorite ways to spend time with you is just chilling together doing separate activities and periodically updating each other

He’ll be working on some sick beats

You’ll be sitting on his bed doing something you love

Drawing, bullet journaling, blogging, editing videos

Whatever your thing is

It genuinely makes him feel so close to you to just

Be near you

He has this sort of deep quiet admiration for you

For a while he genuinely has no idea how to connect the two aspects of his feelings for you and how he’s used to expressing himself

He feels like he can’t tell you how much he likes you cause like

That’s not swaggy bro

So a lot of his affection is in little ways

He knows all of your favorite snacks and drinks

Favorite candies and gum

He will protect you from anything you’re afraid of

Spiders? Gets rid of them so fast you literally didn’t know it was there

Loud noises? Has you listen to his latest mixtape when you’re going through somewhere noisy

If you have any mental health problems or we you bet your ass he will do so much research on how to support a friend with [insert thing]

Picks up on a lot of your cues and mannerisms quickly

Knows exactly when to give you his jacket, when to show you the perfect meme, when to take a study break

When to just pull you into a random dance party

He really likes dancing badly with you

Just failing around and spinning you around

If you like to wear skirts he likes the way your skirt flows when he twirls you

It looks so flowy

Like water or something

His favorite part is after you’ve been dancing for a while

When the song ends or when you get tired

How you’ll both kind of slow down and laugh and catch your breath

You’re still holding his hand

And you’re standing really close to him

He thinks you’ve never looked more beautiful

He never wears his sunglasses when you dance

He claims it’s because he doesn’t want them to fly off

But it’s really bc he doesn’t want anything getting in the way of watching you laugh and smile so much

Oof he’s got it bad for you

#homestuck #dave strider #dave strider x reader #homestuck x reader #homestuck fic

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lloydskywalkers · 3 years

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Heyo! Hope your doing exceptionally well, wonderful and ur staying safe! I was reading ur little oneshots for the movie! Verse and instantly fell in love! Think u have anymore for Kai and Lloyd? (But u don’t need to listen to this, obviously hehe) Have a splendid day!

ahhH thank you, I hope you’re doing well too!! :D oh man it’s been so long since i’ve written something for movie-verse, but I’ve had this little snippet in my head for a while so I guess it’s as good a time as any (and it is, of course, about kai and lloyd bc when is it noT)

it’s a little different than what i usually write, for movie-verse? but i hope it fits the bill! (takes place pre-movie, btw)

Of all his friends, Lloyd thinks Kai is most like the sun. Not just for his codename, and the enthusiasm with which he brings fire to the team, metaphorically and far too often literally, but for how bright he is. Kai reminds Lloyd of the sun at full force, strong and blazing and staunchly refusing to let anyone hide from his warmth. An endlessly combusting ball of stubbornness and passion.

Kai also reminds Lloyd of the sun in the way that he possesses about the same amount of brain cells the sun does, which is zero, because the sun has no brain — much like Kai.

“Hey, ru—de, ow, stop—”

Kai’s petulant response strangles off in cracked pain as Lloyd hushes him, simultaneously pulling the alcohol-soaked cloth from his arm with a sympathetic wince.

“Sorry, sorry,” Lloyd murmurs, wringing the edge of the cloth. “But I’ve gotta — it’ll get infected, if you don’t—”

“Nah, s’okay,” Kai says, breath hissing out through clenched teeth. He gives Lloyd a wavering smile that could almost be encouraging, were he not bleeding over Lloyd’s faded bedspread. “Just caught me off guard, I’m good now. ‘Sides, the — the stitches are gonna be worse, so—”

“It won’t be that bad,” Lloyd promises him, cleaning the rest of the deep slashes that run across Kai’s arm as quickly as he can. The lower ones aren’t so bad — he could get away without stitches, maybe. It’s the uppermost one that scares Lloyd, cutting deep enough into Kai’s skin to pose a threat. And Lloyd has no intention of leaving Kai anywhere near in danger, especially with the reason he’s hurt in the first place.

Lloyd swallows against the thick lump that suddenly forms in his throat, trying to banish the flood of emotions that have been rising since the battle against his father’s forces earlier. Surprise, shock, gratitude—? A swirling maelstrom of a deep-seated kind of aching warmth Lloyd is utterly unfamiliar with. It leaves him off-kilter, and words don’t come easily as they usually do.

Not that words ever come easily to Lloyd, but normally he isn’t quite this stuttering. Maybe. He hopes not. Maybe he’s just hyperaware right now, after everything, and he always sounds this embarrassing.

“I promise,” Lloyd continues, yanking himself from his thoughts as he busies with the needle. “I’ve got a lot of experience, and I’ll be gentle.”

Kai watches Lloyd threading the needle with a thinly-veiled fear, but he nods, the bravado Lloyd’s more familiar with making its way across his face. “Nice,” he says. “I trust you, Dr. Lloyd.”

Lloyd’s hands falter with the needle for a moment, before he resumes sterilizing it, ducking his head. Kai sounds like he means it — Kai sounds like he means everything he says, but the way he says trust hits differently, for Lloyd.

They’ve only been a team for few months, now. Not very long at all, to form any kind of trust in the son of your greatest enemy. Lloyd’s been going to school with some of the same people since kindergarten, and they’ve never looked at him with anything kinder than hatred, much less trust. And yet Kai is here, offering him his bleeding arm in Lloyd’s tiny room, trusting him to repair the damage he only took because he was protecting Lloyd.

Lloyd doesn’t understand. He doesn’t — people don’t — but his team—

They listened to him. Actually listened to him, to Lloyd. They actually listen to him in general, have since they were all thrown together in this odd little grouping, but it hasn’t quite hit home in the way it did tonight, when he’d snapped orders at them in barely-restrained panic, Kai’s blood staining his fingers as he’d staunched the knife wounds meant for him.

They hadn’t flinched back at his raised voice. Lloyd never raises his voice — he’s learned to keep it quiet, soft, unassuming. Even the slightest slip of frustration is enough to send anyone around him murmuring in suspicion, eyes narrowing and hissed whispers of just like his father filling the air.

Lloyd’s voice had been sharp and strained, barking across the rooftop, and they’d listened. No one flinched back, no eyes widened in fear — they’d just listened. They’re still listening, carrying out Lloyd’s orders without question, and it’s — it’s dizzying, if Lloyd had to put a word to it.

Cole and Zane are taking care of clean-up — something Lloyd will have to thank them for later, profusely. Neither were particularly happy about letting Kai out of their sights, but Cole and Zane are better at keeping each other steady than anyone else. It was the right call, Lloyd knows it was. Hopes it was.

But Lloyd hasn’t been having much faith in his calls, tonight. Not after Kai went down.

He swallows, focusing on the sounds reverberating from behind his closed door. Nya and Jay are talking with his mother, Nya’s louder tones easier to hear as she laughs. Lloyd knows her well enough to catch the strain in it, but he knows it’ll fool his mother. They’re distraction — Lloyd’s house was closest, and he’s got the best supplies stashed there. No one questions why he’s the one with the fully stocked medical kit, but Lloyd suspects they’ve all drawn their own conclusions.

He wishes they’d believe him, when he says it’s because he’s worried for them. He grew up with Wu as his uncle, who picks fights on a daily basis — with Morro as his cousin, who picks fights on an hourly basis. Lloyd knows the importance of having the good kind of medical supplies.

He finishes prepping the needle, squeezing Kai’s wrist briefly in warning. Lloyd’s not usually a tactile person — not that anyone would let him be — but he knows Kai soaks up touch like a starved sponge, and Lloyd’s desperate to give any kind of comfort he can before he starts with the needle.

Kai swallows, fixing his eyes firmly on the faded glow-in-the-dark stars plastered across Lloyd’s ceiling.

“Okay,” he says, his voice tight. “Bring it on.”

Lloyd swallows, steels himself, and sets the needle against his skin. Kai flinches at the first prick, eyes squeezing shut briefly, but otherwise he doesn’t move, jaw set stubbornly as Lloyd moves quickly. For his part, Lloyd keeps his eyes locked on the stitches, his hands steady. For all that Lloyd’s made up of bouncing nerves half the time, his hands rarely shake. Never when patching wounds up. He’s always been proud of how steady he can hold a needle, and tonight is no exception.

It’s the least he can do.

Kai suddenly tenses up, a broken-off noise strangling in his throat. Lloyd’s heart twists, but he stays steady, rallying himself. Conversation — Kai likes talking, right? Distraction, he can do that.

“So, um,” Lloyd stutters. On second thought, he’s awful at small talk. But — for Kai. “The way you took down that last guy was, it was really cool. Where’d you learn that?”

Kai bites his lip, exhaling shakily before he answers. “I train too, you know.”

Lloyd’s mouth quirks, despite himself. “Not like that.”

“What, a ninja can’t — can’t get creative,” Kai replies, through half-gritted teeth. Lloyd doesn’t say anything, but Kai rolls his eyes, continuing. “Fine. When I was younger, I ah…might’ve taken a few dance classes. For Nya! ‘Cause I couldn’t let her go alone, y’know, but they were — they were kinda fun, I guess, and maybe they slip into fighting, sometimes.” His cheeks darken, and Lloyd bites back a quiet laugh.

“Nothing like Cole, obviously, ‘cause he’s an actual dancer, but — that’s where I got it from.” He pins Lloyd with a glare, that’s somewhat dimmed by the scrunched expression of pain on his face. “Tell anyone and you’re dead though, okay?”

Lloyd hums his agreement, too focused on the stitches to reply immediately. After a moment, though, he speaks up again. “I did some ballet, when I was little.”

“No way,” Kai says, sounding delighted.

“Yeah, way,” Lloyd says. “I’ve heard from a very reliable source that dancing backgrounds are useful, with ninja stuff.”

“Very reliable meaning your uncle,” Kai grins.

Lloyd shrugs. “Maybe,” he half-smiles. Kai suddenly sucks in another pained breath, but to Lloyd’s relief, it’s likely the last one. He finishes off the stitches with a well-practiced hand, snapping the end of the thread and exhaling in relief.

“There. All done.”

Kai’s eyes widen. “Seriously, already?” He glances down at his arm, his other hand moving up to touch the stitches. Lloyd smacks it away, glaring at him.

“Don’t touch. You still have to watch out for infection. I’ll text you instructions for taking care of it, and everything. Just don’t do anything, ah…”

“No ninja-ing?” Kai finishes for him, crestfallen.

“Probably a good idea,” Lloyd says, apologetic. “But it’s not too bad. Shouldn’t take long, and you can be out, uh, ninja-ing again."

Kai is quiet for a moment, regarding his stitches. Then he turns to Lloyd, who is immediately staggered at the bright smile that stretches across his face.

“Cool. Thanks, Lloyd. You’re good at this.”

Lloyd can’t answer, his throat burning. He forces the welling moisture back, looking away. Kai’s only hurt for him, and that is layered with so much more meaning than Lloyd can comprehend right now.

“No problem,” Lloyd mutters, focusing instead on the voices outside his door in an attempt to find footing again. He can hear his mom laughing at something Nya’s said, open and relaxed in a way his mom rarely is. Lloyd’s heart twists into knots.

He doesn’t deserve them, any of them. Not really.

If Kai reminds Lloyd of the sun, then the rest of the team reminds him of stars. All bright and shining, bursting with warmth in their own way. Maybe not quite at the blazing heat that Kai does, but Nya is a north star if Lloyd’s ever needed one. Jay’s a blinking constellation, scattered stars that form a complex whole much larger than you’d thought. Cole’s the kind of star you see first pop up over the horizon, blending with the oranges and purples of the sunset, like a painting you’d see in soft watercolors. Zane’s the early-morning kind of star, the ones that stay stubbornly after the night’s left, dotting the pale morning with a calm steadiness.

Lloyd would be a planet, he supposes, caught in faithful orbit around the five people who have somehow, for some reason, given him a chance. It’d be generous, though. No, Lloyd is content just to be a moon — with no light of his own, reflecting only the brilliance others give him the best he can.

Kai’s finger taps the edge of his forehead, snapping Lloyd from his thoughts, and he blinks in confusion.

“Lost you there, again,” Kai asks, words mangled through a yawn. “Where’d you go?”

Lloyd shakes his head, turning his attention back to the bloodied thread leftover in his hands. His stomach turns, and he quickly sets it aside. “Just thinking.” He pauses, momentarily lost for words. He settles for jerking his head toward the window, where the smoke trailing from their hard-won battle is still visible against the dark sky, and gives Kai a wry smile. “How much do you wanna bet the cheerleading team comes up with a new song tomorrow?”

It’s been an inside joke for them, the ridiculous songs Chen and his gang keep coming up with to throw at Lloyd, and normally it gets a laugh from Kai. This time, though, Kai is silent, his eyes searching as he stares at Lloyd. Lloyd shifts under the attention, caught off-guard again. He doesn’t know what kind of look this is, that Kai’s giving him.

“They shouldn’t talk about you like that,” Kai finally says. His voice is quiet, but Lloyd can spot the brewing anger in it. Kai’s always got anger to spare.

“Sticks and stones, remember?” Lloyd shakes his head. He’s learned, after a while, that anger changes nothing. “Words will never hurt me.”

“Words hurt when people are throwing sticks and stones at you while they yell about your dad,” Kai grumbles.

“No one’s thrown rocks since second grade, actually.”

“Hm.” Kai’s tone is a mix of thinly withheld anger and mild amusement. Lloyd tilts his head, confused, and Kai gives a huff, anger tugging loose.

“Y’know, people say that if kids throw rocks at you in second grade, it means they’ve got a crush on you.”

Lloyd knows well enough it’s a joke, but he flushes red anyways, heat spreading across his cheeks. “Yeah, sure,” he stammers. Kai laughs at his reaction, though, the odd kind of anger departing, and Lloyd feels he’s found his footing again.

They’re quiet as Lloyd finishes cleaning up the medical supplies, Kai nodding sleepily on his bed while Lloyd carefully washes the needle in the bathroom sink. Maybe he can convince his mom to let Kai spend the night, he thinks. Jay and Nya , too — their apartment isn’t very big, but it’s awfully late to make them walk home, and Lloyd is fine with taking the floor, if he needs to.

Lloyd nods to himself, resolving to ask her once he’s finished hiding the evidence. His mom’s been so thrilled about him having people over at all, he can’t see her saying no. A smile pulls at his lips as he listens to the conversation outside his door again. Jay’s rambling on now, bright and excited without any of his usual reservation. He feels a pang, wondering if Jay’s the same as him — wondering if they’re all the same, playing at muted caricatures of themselves, too fearful to let whatever lies beneath shine through.

He wonders what it means, that they’re the ones with the city in their hands, that weight on their shoulders. Wonders what it means, that Lloyd feels safer with bullets strafing the air around him and his mask on, than he ever has with it off. That Green Ninja will always, always sound better than Lloyd in his ears.

“Hey, uh.”

Lloyd starts at Kai’s voice, twisting the sink off as he turns to face him. Kai looks half asleep, but the smile he gives him is bright as ever.

“Thanks, seriously. Not just for this, but for looking out for us. You’re a good friend.”

Lloyd’s heart skips a beat, his brain latching onto the word friend and holding on tightly, tucking it somewhere safe inside his chest.

“So thanks, Lloyd,” Kai yawns, barely awake at all now, but still stubbornly clinging to the threads of awareness.

Lloyd’s got his own thank you to give back, twisted and strangled behind whatever lump’s formed in his throat, but Kai’s snoring before he gets the chance to say it. So Lloyd tugs the edge of his comforter over his friend — his friend — instead, and runs the words over in his mind again and again, like a treasured line from a book.

On second thought. Maybe Lloyd isn’t so bad. He’s only ever liked his name the way his mom says it, without any of the snapping, harsh emphasis others give it. In others’ mouths, Lloyd’s name is a curse. In his mom’s, Lloyd’s name belongs to a person.

But he thinks, maybe, he likes the way it sounds when his teammates use it, too.

#answered #ninjago #tlnm #lloyd garmadon #kai smith #slight blood tw #i just. have a lot of feelings about friends #and a lot of thoughts about how the movie!ninja put each other on pedestals #not in an inherently bad way but #i think they all think so much of each other #they forget they're human #and that leads to fallout #anyways! movie bros T-T #my fic #masterofswag213

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vivithefolle · 3 years

Note

“Harry and Hermione are platonic soulmates” “Hermione is Harry’s best friend” okay but like..... is she though? Like yes they’re close friends but Ron is 100% the glue that holds the group together and whenever Harry is alone with Hermione he just seems bored and talks about how he misses Ron and I the reader am also bored and miss Ron. Ron is Harry’s best friend. Ron is the person Harry would miss more than anybody else in the world. Ron is the person Harry loves more than anyone else in the world. Hermione is Harry’s close friend, Ron is Harry’s platonic soulmate. Harry is Hermione’s close friend, but Ron is the love of her life.

To be completely honest, I never really felt anything special between Hermione and Harry. And part of it is due to Harry being extremely detached from people, he’s super cold. He rarely tells us about how he feels about people, mostly he observes how people react around him, and he has this... subtle entitlement? Like, Harry tends to complain about how blah blah fame sucks and he hates it, but at the same time he certainly doesn’t complain when he gets preferrential treatment, and at times even seems offended when he doesn’t get any. He kind of expects his friends to be always 100% down with his ideas and endlessly supportive, and sure he protests and goes “no I must do this alone because I’m a danger to you all” but at the same time when Ron was calling him out on his nonexistent plan for the Horcrux Hunt he sure was quick to go all “how dare you question me!”.

As such... Harry feels really detached and cold, and when I read the series, I end up thinking of him and Hermione more as coworkers working together to attain the same objective than as actual friends. They get excited about big breakthroughs in their cases, they share coffee breaks together and stuff, but... there’s not much else. There’s not... some sense of companionship, of being able to stay in a room together without feeling awkward... I really don’t see “friends”. It’s funny, but “siblings” may actually be the best moniker to put on their relationship, because after all you don’t have to love or care about your sibling.

Harry feels closer to Ron, to a point that I would actually call them true friends, and I certainly love their bond and bromance... but I still can’t shake the feeling that Ron’s giving much more than he’s receiving in this friendship. No wonder the poor guy needed a break at times.

Anyway. Even if you can justify it by his abusive childhood and trauma, Harry’s still kind of a cold bastard and I honestly don’t think he’s a good friend. Truth is, many readers are blinded by the fact that he’s “The Boy Who Lived” and so hype and so they think that obviously, it automatically means he’s a great friend to Ron and Hermione... he’s not? I mean, sure he’s ~sassy~ and whatever but, no, sorry, that’s not enough to make me want to be friends with someone.

(Especially since the ~sassy~ bit can be downright hurtful, too. I mean, think of how many people think of Hermione’s “emotional range of a teaspoon” line is ~iconic~. But had it been spoken to Harry, I don’t think Harmony shippers would have been pleased by it.)

Frankly I think Harry’s coldness is not just a character problem, it’s also very much a Rowling problem. She has problems with empathy sometimes, especially towards characters she seems to deem as “lesser” in her mind - side characters, one-off characters, throwaway characters and such. Like, Hermione’s parents are SO important... that she doesn’t even consider them human beings, instead uses them as narrative tools to showcase Hermione’s “bravery”:

Yes, her sacrifice was massive, completely. A very calculated act of bravery. That is not an ‘in the moment’ act of bravery where emotion carries you through, that is a deliberate choice.

I’m sure Hermione’s parents were delighted to be stripped of their entire mind, life story, identity and sense of self as “proof” that their daughter is brave. Not like we already know Hermione is brave. Not like she was member of the House of the Brave or anything like it. We absolutely needed two innocent non-magical people who couldn’t fight back against magic to be destroyed mentally to showcase what a brave person Hermione is.

Rowling does that with so many characters. She has this twisted sense of justice, of morality, honestly kind of akin to that of teenager’s. Marietta Edgecombe’s scarring feels like a pissed-off kid’s revenge fantasy - Rowling said “I loathe a traitor”, but then you realize that Marietta got a worse punishment even than Peter Pettigrew! Peter gets to slightly redeem himself just before dying in front of Harry and Ron (who even try to save him!!!) but Marietta’s the one who’s gonna have to deal with weird looks all her life due to a disfiguring scar on her face! And you’d think that Mister “I have a scar on my face that people stare at and it makes me uncomfortable :(” himself, Mister “I have a new scar on my hand that a horrible woman inflicted to be as punishment for misbehaviour”, MISTER HARRY FREAKIN’ POTTER WOULD HAVE ENOUGH SENSE TO REALIZE THE SIMILARITIES, but alas. In the same book Rowling had her favourite character emulate the character she had created to be the most despicable person in existence... I wonder if anyone ever told her?

#vivi answers #ask #harry potter #harry potter series #hermione granger #ron weasley #hp meta #meta #hp analysis

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lawgrain · 4 years

Text

Chocolate Strawberries

Hiii! Sooo this fic is actually a request but that almost feels to light of a word for it. It’s literally all @mizuraisu‘s idea! They asked me to sort of bring their head cannon to life and that’s what this is! So credit for the idea is soooo Izu and she deserves all the love for that! I hope you guys like how I wrote it <3

(Oh and I know that first part looks like it might go angsty. It’s not, it’s fluff)

Kirishima didn’t know when it started, but he liked Bakugou. He liked that Bakugou would drop whatever he was doing to help him with homework despite his grumbling. He liked that Bakugou would be endlessly grumpy if they accidentally kept him up past 8pm. He liked that Bakugou would sometimes bang on his wall in the morning just to make sure he was awake and getting ready for class.

Everything. He liked everything about Bakugou.

And Bakugou didn’t like him.

The worst part was, Kirishima had thought Bakugou liked him. Bakugou made him feel like it at least. He made Kirishima feel more confident and like he could be more than he was but that was before he saw it.

They had been in class one day and nothing special was going on. If anything it was a boring day. Present Mic was droning on about some obscure grammar thing that he had no chance of remembering and the class was all in various states of zoning out. Kirishima himself was staring towards the windows where Bakugou was and then it happened.

Kirishima didn’t know what prompted it but suddenly Midoriya was leaning forward in his chair, whispering in Bakugou’s ear. This alone brought Kirishima’s thoughts to a halt. Since when had those two been that close? And right as things seemed to be going back to normal with Midoriya away from Bakugou, Bakugou moved back towards Midoriya.

Stunned, Kirishima watched as Bakugou tilted his head back onto Midoriya's desk with a slight pout on his face. Then Midoriya took out a piece of candy from his bag, slipping it into Bakugou’s mouth.

That was it.

Just the small intimate moment that Kirishima never thought could happen, happened. Bakugou and Midoriya, two people he thought were barely friends, all of the sudden seemed to be more than friends. And Kirishima didn’t even know when that happened. He had no idea when it started or how he could’ve missed it but he did.

And that hurt.

It hurt a lot but they were still friends weren’t they? He still cared about Bakugou and maybe Bakugou didn’t reciprocate as much as he thought… But it was Bakugou. And Kirishima still couldn’t help liking everything about him.

It’s just now that “everything” had the exception of “liking Midoriya”. And Kirsishima couldn’t do a thing about it because who was he to tell Bakugou who to like.

The only problem is that left Kirishima in a gloomy state of doom and apparently his friends had all planned a movie night that night. Obviously that meant Bakugou would be there and so that meant that with Kirishima’s fresh turmoil, he’d still have to face his crush. But the world didn’t stop for him to wallow and apparently that meant that during the course of the movie night, Bakugou ended up with his head in Kirishima’s lap.

It was official Kirishima was going to die. He was going to die a very unmanly death all because he could not handle his crush laying on his lap.

But that’s exactly where Kirishima was in life right now as he tried to focus on the movie. And he couldn’t really focus now could he? Not when Bakugou kept making vague pouting faces at Kaminari. And just how adorable was that fact. Yet still, he couldn’t quite figure out why Bakugou was pouting in the first place. Kirishima made another mental effort to bring his attention away from Bakugou. And this time it worked until Bakugou started to lift his head up from Kirishima’s lap, drawing Kirishima's eyes back towards him. Kirishima watched yet again something unbelievable happen.

Bakugou had apparently lifted his hand to grab Kaminari’s wrist, stopping the electric boy's motions to and from the bowl of popcorn. With withering glare he spoke at Kaminari.

“Just give me a piece already,” Bakugou growled and then ate the popcorn from Kaminari’s fingers and licked them.

Oh god.

What?

All of the sudden everything went dark. Literally.

“What the fuck Pikachu!” Bakugou called amongst a chorus of their other friends also complaining.

“S-sorry,” Kaminari sounded dazed and shook.

Bakugou immediately responded in anger. “You fucking shocked me!”

“You just- the popcorn,” Kaminari's voice now embodied the desperation that Kirishima felt.

What just happened?

“Yeah, I wanted some goddamn popcorn. Now figure out how to get the shitty power back on.”

The rest of their friends, having no clue what just transpired, continued in kind. Sero got up and headed to find the dorms breaker panel to try and figure out if the could get the power back on. Meanwhile the girls were calling out to him, letting him know if there was any change in the power. Despite the dark, Kaminari and Kirishima stared at each other in disbelief.

Neither could compute what had just happened and both needed the other to confirm what they’d experience.

That’s when it hit him. Midoriya. He had done a similar thing to Midoriya and Kirishima had thought it meant that they were in a relationship. But what if it hadn’t? He had just done the same thing to Kaminari after all. And Kirishima knew they weren’t a thing.

But why on earth did Bakugou do that? Looking at Kaminari, Kirishima realized he should probably explain his findings to his classmate. After they fixed the power and finished their movie night, the two went to Kaminari’s room and Kirishima filled him in.

“He did what?” Kaminari asked at the end of his retelling of the events.

Kirishima nodded, “Same thing dude, but to Midoriya.”

“Midoriya?”

“I know.” It was just as bizarre to Kirishima as it was to Kaminari. If they weren’t actually dating, then why did that happen?

Suddenly Kaminari looked as if an idea had struck him, “Let’s try it again.”

“Try it- Try what again?” Kirishima asked in confusion.

“Giving him food,” Kaminari explained. “But you know, like actually feeding it to him like today.”

“Do you want him to kill us?”

Kaminari paused at that. They both knew if they crossed a line, they were dead. And this plan? It was a death wish.

Kaminari brightened again. “You should do it then, man!”

“No! How’s that fair?” Kirishima spluttered. Why should he be the one to be killed? It was Kami’s idea.

“Come on, you know he likes you best,” Kaminari whined and Kirishima blushed. “If anyone can do it you can.”

Kirishima thought about it. Bakugou probably wouldn’t kill him right? Like he might get mad but Kirishima could try and play it off as just offering Bakugou food. It couldn’t go that wrong. Plus if Midoriya and Kaminari could do it, surely Kirishima could too.

With that flimsy reasoning in mind, Kirishima agreed to the plan, much to the other boys delight. And at lunch the next day, he could feel Kaminari watching him in anticipation. He could also feel his heart pounding with nerves.

Could he really do this? Or was he really just going to die?

He had to be manly and just do it. Screw the consequences, he wanted answers. So without a word, Kirishima brought a grape towards Bakugou’s mouth and the table fell into a stunned silence as Bakugou opened his mouth to accept the fruit.

And fuck, Bakugou was adorable.

After eating the fruit, Bakugou adopted the most content look Kirishima had ever seen on him. His shoulders relaxed and he was far calmer than he usually ever was with the Bakusquad. Kirishima could feel his eyes were wide staring at Bakugou and Bakugou must have realized this too.

“What?” He asked and to everyone’s bewilderment, he didn’t even sound mad.

“Nothing,” Kirishima answered quickly before a thought occurred to him. “Would you like some more?”

Bakugou eyed the grapes and nodded. So for the rest of the lunch period, Kirishima would randomly feed Bakugou grapes and each time, he could feel his classmates' attention drawn to the action. Later that day, it was Ashido who led the confrontation.

“What was that?” She hissed. “Are you two dating now?”

And just like that, Kirishima explained his discovery for the second time. At the end of the story, his friends stared at him in an awed silence. It was Sero who finally broke the silence.

“Do you think he’d let us do that too?”

They all looked at each other. Would he? Would he let them all feed him different foods?

As it turned out, Bakugou would let them. The entire Bakusquad started giving the volatile teen treats throughout the day and it had an almost unexpected result. Bakugou, just like he had been when Kirishima fed him the grapes, became much more content throughout the days. Eventually the class started to take notice of the change and, while none of them asked about it directly, Kirishima could’ve sworn he saw Todoroki feed Bakugou some chocolates one day. On another occasion, Kaminari actually did adopt a death wish.

“What the FUCK WAS THAT YOU GRUBBY LITTLE POKEMON?” Kirishima was pretty sure the entire building heard Bakugou’s yell.

Kaminari snickered, “What? You like hot peppers.”

“Yeah, but not covered in fucking chocolate, you fucking moron!” Bakugou’s anger radiated from him. Kaminari was as good as dead.

That much was confirmed a few booms and a power outage later. Kaminari looked downright traumatized after snapping out of whey mode. And Bakugou…

Well Bakugou was sulking. A pout had once again found its way onto his face and if Kirishima didn’t value his life, he’d even say that Bakugou looked like a petulant child. Kirishima thought he might have an idea of what had put that look on his crush’s face. Later that night, Kirishima carried a bowl of chocolate strawberries to Bakugou’s room to try and test his theory.

Bakugou opened the door, took one look at the strawberries and opened his mouth.

Cute.

Kirishima put a strawberry in his mouth and was promptly let into Bakugou’s room. With that, Kirishima found themselves in a similar position as the day of the movie night. Bakugou’s head was placed in Kirishima’s lap and Kirishima was sat on top of Bakugou’s bed. The only difference was this time, Kirishima's fingers were carding through his spiky hair… And he was feeding Bakugou strawberries.

“Hey Bakugou,” Kirishima started in a soothing voice. “I’m sorry Kaminari didn’t give you the right food.”

“Dumbass Circuit Boy,” Bakugou grumbled.

Kirishima smiles at the pout on his face. “Feel better now that you got the strawberries?”

“Fuck off.”

Kirishima just gave Bakugou another strawberry, paying the comment no mind. Before he left that night to go back to his room, Bakugou stopped him with one last comment.

“Thanks.” Kirishima looked at Bakugou waiting for more. Bakugou continued, “For the strawberries. Now go to bed. I don’t want to have to yell at you to wake your shitty ass up in the morning.”

“Aww, Bakubro! You do care!”

“Get the fuck out.”

So manly.

After he left, Kirishima decided to do that again. He started taking random treats to Bakugou’s room and the other would let him in so they could either lounge around or eat while watching a movie. After a while, it almost became routine. During the day, everyone would give Bakugou random treats, they might hang out after classes, and in the evenings, Kirishima and Bakugou would just be together.

They didn’t ever do much but it was always special to Kirishima. It was enough just to exist around Bakugou and it seemed like Bakugou thought the same. At this point, the crush had long since graduated into love.

He loved everything about Bakugou. The way he’d fuss at people in a totally mom friend manner. The way his nose would crinkle at any candy flavors he didn’t like. The way he’d always make time for Kirishima so that they could talk or not talk and just be together.

He loved every single thing.

That’s why Kirishima was convinced Bakugou had just tried to kill him.

They’d been in the cafeteria and Jirou was primarily giving Bakugou snacks when it happened. Bakugou, instead of taking snacks from Jirou, turned to Kirishima and took his fries from him.

Except he took the fry that was halfway in his mouth.

And Kirishima was now dead. His heart was beating out of control and his eyes were wide open but he was still quantifiably dead. His brain had definitely stopped working and he couldn’t move because Bakugou had practically kissed him.

Bakugou kissed him.

Woah.

And worst of all he had no idea if it even counted. Judging by the looks they were getting, his classmates seemed to think so. Kirishima surely hoped that’s how Bakugou meant it at least. Upon the stares Bakugou felt the need to explain.

“I want fries instead, assholes. Stop staring like a bunch of idiots.”

With that command everyone went back to their business. And that left Kirishima confused. He decided it was finally time to man up and ask Bakugou where they stood. When that evening came, Kirishima marched his way towards Bakugou’s room with a bowl of strawberries in hand.

He was going to get some answers today.

Bakugou opened his door and smirked at the determined look on Kirishima’s face.

“Finally figure it out, Shitty Hair?” Bakugou asked with a challenge in his eyes.

“Huh?” Kirishima had not, in fact, ‘figured it out’.

Bakugou rolled his eyes. “I like you too moron. Wipe that stupid look off your face and give me strawberries.”

…

Kirishima got a boyfriend!

Later Bakugou told him that Kirishima had a ‘stupid cute look on his face’ and took a gamble that it meant that Kirishima was either going to tell him that he liked Bakugou, or ask if Bakugou liked him. And that he wanted to ‘skip the mushy shit’ and just ask. After that, they were an actual couple.

It had taken Kirishima a very short amount of time to realize that they were basically a couple before. In almost everything but title, they were together before they put a name to it. And months after they started dating, Kirishima finally asked the thing that had been bugging him.

“Hey Bakugou,” Bakugou looked up at Kirishima from where he stood. “How come you always eat food that we give you?”

“Because I’m hungry, idiot. I’ve always done that,” he said as if that were an explanation.

“But why?” Kirishima whined.

“Have you never seen any movies?” Bakugou smirked. “All rulers have their subjects feed them.”

...

His boyfriend was so goddamn manly.

End.

How’d you like it? Izu had asked me basically to do a story where Bakugou had just always been fed food throughout life (as in everyone did it) because he saw it on tv (like how you’d feed a god grapes thing) and UA finding out and being shook.

And that’s me condensing her idea. She also had described a lot of the different scenes that happened in here and had a lot more outside of what I wrote. They just didn’t know how to put their ideas into a story and I was more than happy to help! And of course I put a lawgrain vibe into it as always (Like I doubt they expected me to make it a KiriBaku fic and they probs didn’t know that the thing would be all Kiri’s pov. I had fun ^_^)

#fanfiction #lawgrain fanfic #who decided I should be allowed to tag things?#i still don't know what i'm doing #bnha fanfic #fluff #oneshot #fic request

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popculturebuffet · 4 years

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Ducktales Reviews: The Battle for Castle McDuck!

How to sum up how I feel about this episode....

Yeah that’ll do it. This wasn’t a BAD episode. It flowed nicely, had two great new additions to the cast.. but after weeks of really good episodes, warts and all.. this one was just.. okay. Part of the problem isn’t the episode’s fault as I went in expecting the answers to scrooge’s immortality, the answers to hortense we didn’t get last week, and you know donald and della actually getting to interact with their grandparents. I got.. pretty much none of that, though I did get some answer as to how Hortense lived long enough to have donald. But we’ll get to that. Point is part of the episodes baggage is on setting my expectations too high, the same happened with “Astro B.O.Y.D.” earlier this season and in hindsight, that one is really excellent even if it wasn’t the fenton episode I was hoping for, it’s still really damn good. THis one... even if it’s not what I was hoping ofr, while not bad it’s still pretty medicore. Let’s get into why shall we? ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- We open at Castle McDuck, where Webby’s narrating for people who didn’t see the last episode set here and aren’t obsessive about watching the show like you or I. And also because this time she’s not so starstruck that she can’t actually speak or function, so she can actually get all the lore she wants in. The family is here because while the Druid stones seem to be working, the mists protecting the castle, and keeping it out of lockstep with reality every 5 years, have suddenly vanished. Naturally Fergus blames Scrooge for that. I’m mixed on this version of Fergus. While i’m fine with chanigng things up from life and times, having him live and having him resent scrooge on some level, it worked better last time as there was emotional weight and a reason behind it: Scrooge and him didn’t get along becasue Fergus missed his boy and resented that his sucess lost him a son and made him cold and bitter like Fergus himself. It fit both men to just be too damn proud to talk it out. So while Fergus being a bit crotchety still isn’t ENITRELY out of character him still being a dick to his son for no real reason and given no new one for being an asshole to him just annoys me. The character last time was three dimensional, understandable and likeable. This one is just a bitter old man constantly yelling at his son and doting on his daughter. More on that bit in a bit.

Downy meanwhile is just as lovely as last time: Since she lived long enough to see her grand children this time, I love seeing her as a wonderful doting grandmother to her great grandbabies. She’s wonderful and I’m thrilled to see her again. It does however bring up one of this episodes biggest issues: Donald and Della are absent and this time for no good reason. Last time, it was fair enough to exclude Donald as there was no real space for him in the narrative, and he likely , even if he loved grandma and grandpa, didn’t want to have to explain his estrangment with scrooge to them and break his poor gram-gram’s heart. That’s fair. This time though? Their not there because.. frank didn’t want to use them. That’s.. literally it. They could’ve fit fine into the family fued narrative epseically since we’ve seen them sibling squabble, and unlike other adventures they’ve been absent, where they clearly just wanted scrooge to have time with the kids, or in the case of rumble for ragnarok scrooge had valid reason for not using them, this time? There’s no good excuse. Della would want to see her grandparents, Donald would get drug along. They only appear every 5 years. WHy the hell wouldn’t they be here?! I get trying to have character ballance but we’ve had several episodes this season of just scrooge and the kids. We DIDN’T need it this time and the lack of characters dosen’t really change anything. It instead wastes plots like getting to see what Donald and Della’s relationships with their grandparents is like, or their aunt, or finding out how their mother died or at least fucking MENTIONING hortense outside of one word and a photo. YOu think the fact their sister is dead would be important to Scrooge and Matilda but it just.. never comes up. Their niece and nephew never come up and my patince comes up short. I’m fine with character ballance but i’m not fine with wasting a golden opportunity for character interactions we haven’t gotten. I get we just had two weeks of donald and della I do, but it dosen’t make this any less frustrating or nonsensical. Having characters appear two episodes in a row dosen’t magically make them irrelevant or we’d be seeing less of Huey or Louie or Dewey and outside of last week, we REALLY haven’t. If they can show up once an episode why can’t their parents?

Point is a mystery’s afoot, and so is THE PHANTOM BLOT.. to no one’s suprise as he was both in the episode’s description and frankly magic being drained is his mo, this time using a portable generator. Webby dosen’t catch on to this.. but I let it slide as while she’s the only one to have really met and fought the blot.. she’s also busy with mc duck family stuff and frankly while a missing mystery is here, given how deep the mcduck rouge’s gallery goes, it’s not a stretch to say it could be any one of them. Especially Glomgold, who while not magic is willing to pay for rediculous shit why would “dispersing scrooge’s family castle’s mists to bug his parents” be any diffrent. Or possibly replace them as their son because he’s kind of nuts and entirely made of stupid and that’s why we love him. And Magica has the obvious motives of revenge on scrooge, as this isn’t her first set of dead parents, and a castle full of mystic wonders. It’s plausable to wait and see who it is first instead of just assuming it’s one guy.

And yup there’s a mysterin town:A set of mystical bagpipes of the clan mcduck that can bring life to where there is none. We don’t know if they can raise the dead but they can bring inanimate objects to life so there’s that. But seriously Donald should take them to his parents graves just to be safe. But before we can get to duck necormancy we have to find them so we get... (checks notes) a Louie and Huey team up again where Louie is an abrasive jackass to his brother for planning ahead, despite the fact he’s been proven wrong on that front twice now, and is entirely insufferable and has learned nothing about trying to find a quick and easy way of doing things depsit elearning this lesson 80 times already.

As you can tell I hate this subplot and am getting it out of the way NOW because it’s not good and treads ground we’ve tread THREE TIMES ALREADY. and you did it right the first time, you did it okay if sloppiily with let’s get dangerous. Why this ? Louie learns nothing, Huey learns nothing and it’s not funny.The two just search for the mystery, and Louie is impatient. Though talking with a friend in a ducktales server, i’m in one now and it actually really helps with these, did make me realize that Louie’s character development has stalled like I thought... it’s simply a Marco Diaz situation. Like the third season of star vs the forces of evil, it’s basically a coin flip if your getting a well developed verison of the character that’s been built up over multiple seasons.. or a jackass whose learned nothing and treats other people badly. Their different FLAVORS of jackass but jackass still tastes awful no matter who it is. It’s not as BAD as it was there as while it’s not helpign the character, it’s not actively having him do the worst things possible, but it still makes Louie’s plots a chore to sit through at times as when he’s not well written like with split sword, rumble for ragnarok or tickening, he’s just a 2 dimensional greedy jerkhole and I don’t want to spend time with him. And the other brothers have had times of being written one dimensional, not going to lie, but all I get from Louie in these plots is this:

After almost getting his family killed, after getting scrooge’s fortune overnight with minimal effort and having everything he wanted only to learn, suprise, it takes a lot of work to maintain.. and he still just dosent’ get that the easy way isn’t always the way, and after the trickining and let’s get dangerous hasn’t learned his brother is usually right when he’s being anal retentive. This was fine in the last 2 seasons but too much has happened for him to get away with this shit and not come off as obnoxious. It just drags any episode it’s in down with it. I”ll leave the rest of the review under the cut.

One more subplot before we dig into the main one: The Phantom Blot and his new partner, Pepper! If you don’t remember her it’s fine as she wasn’t named but she was the egghead voiced by Amy Sedaris who showed up for one scene back in the Blot’s first apperance and who frank said they had more plans for. Well we see those plans now as Pepper has been paired with the Blot for this mission as Bradford’s policy for missing mystery missions now is the buddy system. No going solo, despite the Blot really not liking any of this. Which honestly both fits Bradford, as he’s endlessly practical, and is just a good idea: most of his agents are kind of wild cards and have their own agends so forcing them to work together not only gives them better odds with scrooge, but prevents them from working their own angles against FOWLS better instrests. IN this case having the peppy, energetic and talkative pepper go with the closed off and dogmatic blot keeps him from going overboard, as Castle McDuck is basically one large magical nightmare for him to destroy and Blot keeps pepper on task and on stealth since, as we learn now we get to know her, she’s a bit overly excitable and not all that subtle, if not to dewey or della levels. She can stealth when necessary. She’s also DETERMINED to get the blot to bond with her and work with her, and is delighted to work with him, getting the job because.. no one else wanted it becasue the blot scares people and puts them off with his intensity, which he’s shocked about but really shoudln’t be.

IT’s just a nice dynamic, he helps her be a better agent and she helps him realize he can’t do EVERYTHING alone and that blindly destroying all magic in his path, as much as he’d like to isn’t the option, using some runes to track them. Sure pepper makes their presence obvious once or twice, btu she’s also essential to the mission more often than not and by the end, even if they loose, we’ll get to that, Blot has fully accepted his partner. It’s.. honestly heartwarming when you think about it: The blot’s probably closed him off from personal relationships of any kind because A) his family got brutally murdered by the person he’s hutning and B), he has a mission he can never rest in. He likely wanted to work alone because it’s how he rolls nad i’t sonly through seeing someone who genuinely WANTS to be around him and wants his missiong ot succeed that he realizes he dosen’t have to push everyone away and allies are more useful than none. It’s a warped way of thinking but for someone with as much baggage as blotty, it’s progresss and it’s a really sweet story. HOpefully this relationship will go farther.. I mean strange relationships have happened than a dogmatic dog who hates magic and a peppy go getter both working for an obliviously evil businessman.

So onto the main plot: Turns out Scrooge wasn’t the first person Fergus called this episode as we meet the DT17 version of Matilda! Horay! She’s voice by Michelle Gomez who like David Tennant and Catherine Tate before her is a doctor who alumnus.. though this time she’s past my time watching the show. I really gotta get on catching up. She played Missy, the female regneration of the master. Gomez is spectacular in the part here, and while I have no past experince with her I certainly want to see more of her work as she’s a delight. Matilda is Scrooge’s sister. In the comics she was the duitful sister who looked up to her big brother as he left Scotland to make his fortune, sending money and mementio’s back she scrapbooked. She eventually went with Scrooge to america with him... but this didn’t end well as Scrooge took advantage of his sisters as help and when he finally did take them along on an adventure, it was his lowest point, going from an honest buisness man to a cruel robber baron for one moment and left him and his company. She and Hortense TRIED building a bridge with a suprise party.. but by that point while Scrooge had backed away from being a monster, he was still such a dick things blew up. As far as we know he never saw hortense alive again, and he only saw matilda in her old age with the two reconcliing. I’ll get more into ALL of this when I get to those pieces of life and times obviously. Point is she’s a good character. And so is her reboot version.. but the reboot version did catch me off guard as, much like her dad she’s not really much like the sensible sweet woman from the comics. But given DT17 tends to really play fast and loose with previous versions of characters, and it often works out i’m not going to gripe about it: what they did here works. As for what EXACTLY they did here, this version of Matilda is more flighty: not incomptient or lacking in charm, but due to sort of bouncing from one improable venture to the next and staying at her parents between ventures. She’s sort of a female version of Jubal Pomp, an itallian duck comics character who modelded himself after Scrooge, but dosen’t have the common sense or work ethic scrooge does. That’s really matilda here minus the looking up to scrooge part: she dosen’t seem untalented, just a bit footloose. She also likes needling her brother and is unsuprisingly her dad’s faviorite since she’s around more. The two naturally get under each others skin, and we get our main conflict... not just because of their fighting.. but because Webby can’t help but mettle. She’s what makes this plot work: Webby can’t help but try to interfere because she dosen’t get siblings sometimes fight and have long standing resentments, something I relate to, and that stepping in or trying to end it sometimes just makes it worse. Granted sometimes’ it’s necessary, but in this casey Dewey, whose trying to inch her away is right on the money and after the awful plot with these two in SPlit Sword, it’s nice to see Dewey be in the right, but for actually good reason instead of just because the episode says so. Here he’s right that her getting involved will only escalate and her attempt to do so only reveals Matilda kidnapped scrooge’s pet hair clump and died it. She also has something resembling an emu. This only makes things worse and starts to escalate tensions leading to some between both sides, as Fergus takes Matilda’s and Downy takes scrooges. Again REALLY could’ve used the twins. We do get a nice bit where Webby coaxe Dewey, who understandably dosen’t want to help her further spiral into her own issues by helping mend family issues she really isn’t qualified to solve.. because she’s you know... 13. I mean granted Steven Universe did this sort of thing at her age.. but given he eventually repressed his issues so much he had a mental breakdown and turned into a giant angst monster, and only got better with therapy.. maybe get some therapy instead Webby. Just saying. Therapy everyone? Therapy? But yeah she coaxes Dewey with a statdew, and yes she says that exactly. This gets the family breifly united, as Dewey fakes an injury.. but finding out it’s fakkkke combined with Huey and Louie coming in just causes the enitre family to spiral into squabbling and webby to shut down a bit, with Scrooge planning to form his own clan after bickering iwth his parents and sister. Oh and it only gets worse when Pepper accidently brings some statues to life, and they get in on it too while Webby’s convinced the families over and she just wanted a place in it. And even if this isnt’ the BEST episdoe the show’s ever done, i’ll get to why in a second, I do like this. Webby’s nearly LOST this family once, way back at the end of season 1 when no one but beakly thought of her feelings about her best friends and surrogate uncle all leaving her after her other surrogate uncle you know.. said some pretty unforgivable things. She’s trying SO hard to force it to fit, so hard to fix things because she can’t stand them being broken, something I PAINFULLY relate to given my own personal issues with not being able to stand people being upset with me. She just wanted a family and i’ts gone. Of course it isn’t and webby’s sad words coupled with some house crashers get the clan mcduck statues included to kick Blot and Pepper out and get the bagpipes back, while Scrooge points out it’s the good families that can withstand a squabble. So the mystery’’s gotten, Scrooge and Matilda are squareish... and this episodes thankfully over. Happy day! Final Thoughts: This episode is okay. I very clearly have my problems with it.. but it’s a fine half hour of television and funny enough to bounce through it with some good character stuff. It’s just after the last few weeks, and really this whole season.. I expect more. There was no real emotional core besides webby this episode and her issues wer eboiled down to “Families fight but it’s fine”.. which itself is a pretty uncomplicated message when family dyanmics can be complciated messy and painful. My family is thankfully fairly stable, if not without issues because hey no one is, but given other people watching might come from far worse homes where the bickering is far worse and far more toxic.. yeah maybe have some nuance here. And this is from a show that usualy does that WELL: We saw it with Fergus last time before he was hollowed out for this episode and reduced to an angry dick. We’ve seen it with Donald and Scrooge’s estrangment or Donald and Della’s relationship: Family is complicated , messy and even good ones have problems. That should’ve been the message: family can squabble or even have serious issues but they come back together. Instead we just got a bunch of bickering for a cheesy message that dosen’t quite fit with what the series done. It fits for thanksgiving: family , the good kind, can last arugments and is there for you regardless.. and I know my family is. I just feel they could’ve done the message better. Basically the episode was fine... it just wasn’t up to the high standard this season has set even in it’s down turn and is easily the weakest epseically since Matilda really dosen’t feel all that fleshed out even though what we got of her was great. Basically not a BAD episode.. but it could’ve been a great one, and i’m disapointed the series didn’t try harder. NEXT TIME: regular coverage for the year concludes as we go back a few months chronlogically to find out why Santa and Scrooge hate each other. IT’s christmas time ya’ll! Until then if there’s an episode of ducktales or another disney series you’d like me to take a look at, suggest it in the comments or comission it outright for give bucks via my direct messages on here or send an ask for my discord. Until we meet agian, there’s always another rainbow.

#the battle for castle mcduck!#ducktales spoilers #ducktales #scrooge mcduck #matilda mcduck #webby vanderquack #huey duck #louie duck #dewey duck #fergus mcduck #downy mcduck #the phantom blot #pepper

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ilovesamheughan · 4 years

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Herself is fun like no other! 😂

Diana Gabaldon's Foreword to Clanlands Reveals Behind-the-Scenes Stories from the Outlander Set

Here's your first look at the introduction to Sam Heughan and Graham McTavish's new book.

BY DIANA GABALDON

NOV 3, 2020

outlander season 2 2016ED MILLER / STARZ

Well, in The Beginning . . . there was a man in a kilt.

I’ve always figured that if there’s something you want to do, you should start doing it, and if it’s the right thing, the universe kind of comes out to meet you. So, I started writing a novel about a man in a kilt, and the universe brought me a television show.

I’ve been indirectly responsible for a lot of strange things since I wrote Outlander – from:

. . . five seasons (so far) of a hit TV series

. . . the names of dozens of purebred dogs, racehorses and housing developments

. . . thousands of babies named Brianna or Jamie (no one has ever, to my knowledge, named a child ‘Murtagh’, which is puzzling . . .)

. . . Lord John Grey’s Tea

. . . symphonic band compositions

. . . a musical

. . . a Scottish woolen mill specialising in tartan

. . . a marvelous pair of cookbooks

. . . three million knitted cowls

. . . dozens of female fans who lower their trousers at book signings to show me ‘Da mi basia mille’ tattooed on their tailbones (as my husband remarked to me, ‘Well, how many people can say,“Kiss my ass” in classical Latin?’)

. . . a 72% increase in Scottish tourism (as Visit Scotland was kind enough to tell me), and

. . . an excellent whisky called ‘Sassenach’

But this book may be one of the strangest, and definitely one of the best!

I’m deeply honoured that Sam and Graham have asked me to write the foreword to one of the most interesting, unusual (to put it mildly . . .) and hilarious books I’ve read in a long time. I’m not quite sure what you’d call it, but then I’m used to not being able to describe my own books in twenty-five words or less, so this is probably not a problem.

To start with, it’s a buddy book. Two good friends banter (and bicker) their way across the Scottish Highlands, risking life and limb in that casual way that makes men attractive. Why? Well, because they’re both Scottish and they have both been a large part of Outlander (not just the television show, but the whole weird phenomenon), have realised that they are Scottish (wearing a kilt every day for two years will do that to you), and want to find out where their heritage came from and what being Scottish actually means (aside from being born liking whisky)

It’s also a road book. (Think Jack Kerouac, but with fewer drugs, more paragraphs and no sex. Well, almost no sex . . .).

Our two friends are in fact making a television series about several historical locations in the Highlands. Accompanied by a small film crew – including a talented makeup artist and a drone operator – they visit spectacular historical locations in the Scottish Highlands to learn the true history of some of the best-known massacres, fights, betrayals, beheadings, and other typically Scottish recreational activities. This is the story of that journey, accomplished via an aged Fiat camper van, tandem bike, kayak and any number of other improbable modes of transport that only make sense to people suffering from testosterone poisoning.

And on their way, they talk. Not only to each other, but to themselves. In some of its phases, the book is a twin memoir. Each man recalls his life as an actor – in bits – because every actor (like every writer) pretty much makes it up as they go along. Which means a lot of the stories are of the kind that are only funny to the protagonists with twenty years’ perspective, but are endlessly entertaining to the spectators.

These reminiscences include a good many stories from the Outlander set, as well. I’m only on set myself intermittently, but I do recall the day in Season Two when Sam’s horse – which he was preparing to mount – decided to take its mother’s advice and relieve itself before setting out (there’s reason why most costumes are made in multiples). And another occasion during Season Two wherein Graham was required to ride a mechanical horse (as the director said to me, ‘It looks like shit, but you won’t be able to actually see it on film’)

The mechanical horse was carried on the back of a truck, followed by another truck with a camera, and Graham was supposed to leap into the mechanical horse’s saddle while moving (supposedly jump-ing from another horse). This being television, they filmed the scene many, many times to ensure enough footage to get the effect they were after. When they finally stopped, Graham staggered downhill from the road where they’d been doing this, pausing by me and Anne Kenney (brilliant writer of the other episode in that block of filming) to say, ‘I’ve just been having a conversation with my balls. They said, “We’d really rather you didn’t do that again”’. And staggered on, muttering, ‘I knew I should have worn a cup this morning . . .’.

And finally, there’s the actual history of the ‘clan lands’, woven through this tale of a journey. The travelers reach the most interesting/famous/relevant Highland locations, where they do learn what their history and heritage are, assisted by some of the most colorful inhabitants of those places.

So, you’re actually getting four books in one! (A real bargain . . .).

But the most important part of this book is the friendship between its authors, that colours and illuminates every page.

I was both intrigued and immensely entertained by the story, but also touched on a personal level. One of the most unexpected aspects of the whole ‘Outlander phenomenon’ is the amazing way in which it seems to draw people together. People read the books and watch the show – and they want to talk about it. So, they form fan groups and book clubs and Facebook forums, and deep, lasting friendships, all because of a shared love of a story.

I will always recall one woman who brought me a book at a signing, who told me that she lived alone, had been alone for many years, seldom got out and had no family – but that she’d become attracted to the story, found others who felt likewise, and who invited her to go with them to book-signings, premieres and conventions. ‘Now I have friends!’, she said. She cried, and so did I.

I hope you’ll feel that sense of friendship in these pages.

A final word, since this book is all about returning to one’s roots: Some years ago, one of my novels won the Corine International Prize for Fiction, and I was invited to go to Germany to accept the award. This was rather a Big Deal for the German publisher, and they took advantage of my presence to have me interviewed by the entire German press corps; newspapers, magazines, radio, television, literary journals, you name it. By the end of the week I was sleep deprived and a bit glazed over when I met a nice gentleman from one of the literary journals.

Delightful man, he went on at great (and flattering) length about the books. He loved my narrative drive, my characters were tremendous, my imagery transcendent!

So I’m sitting there in a pleasant daze, thinking, ‘Yes, yes, go on . . .’, when he suddenly said, ‘There is just one thing I wonder: can you explain to me, what is the appeal of a man in a kilt?’.

Well, had I been totally conscious, I might not have said it (then again . . .). Anyway, I looked at him for a moment and said, ‘Well . . .I suppose it’s the idea that you could be up against a wall with him in a moment.’

<ahem>

A few weeks later, home again in Arizona, I get a packet of interview clippings from the German publisher, and on the top is the interview from that journal. The publisher had attached a Post-it note, saying, ‘I don’t know what you said to this man, but I think he is in love with you!’.

A man in a kilt. A very powerful and compelling image, yes . . . And now you have two of them . . .

Pour yourself a good dram, open the covers and enjoy yourself!

Slàinte mhath!

Diana Gabaldon

Scottsdale, Arizona

August, 2020

#sam heughan #clanlands book #diana gabaldon #grahammctavish

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gra-sonas · 3 years

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Are you watching Superman & Lois?

Nonnie, I’m incapable of merely watching Superman & Lois. I’m DEVOURING it!

I’ve watched the premiere more than 15 (yes, that often) times by now. It’s just SO good, and it makes me so damn happy to watch it.

⬆️Legit my face watching the pilot. Every. Single. Time. (And not just bc of Hoechlin, even though seeing him as Clark and Superman is pretty much The Best Thing Ever™ 😍🥰)

In this essay I will...

I’ve long been a fan of the characters (Lois Lane and Clark Kent), and seeing them in this new iteration is giving me all the feels. SO MANY FEELS!!!

I love the set-up of the show (thanks for not doing yet another origin story 🥱), the fact that they’re older, have been (happily!) married for a long time, that they have and are a family. The family dynamics are so interesting (I actually really like the kids, was a bit worried about “teen drama”, but I adore the brothers and love how much they clearly care for each other), and the idea that they’re moving back to Smallville is intriguing.

The pilot had everything I could’ve dreamed of: nods to other Superman adaptations and comics, drama, action, heartfelt moments, flashbacks - it’s the whole (and wholesome) package. (Also, the music is incredible, and the CGI/VFX is on a whole new level compared to other CW superhero shows).

Ngl, I’m getting the biggest kick out of Lois and Clark as a couple tho. Theirs is the kind of “happy relationship” I’m talking about when I say I want to see more happy relationships on screen. They love and adore each other (and have so for a long time), they have each others’ backs, they have tons of issues and problems to deal with, but they do it together. I’m so pumped to see more of that on the show!

A “happy relationship” doesn’t mean that no one’s ever facing any problems and it’s just rainbows and unicorns 24/7, it means that you have someone you love, who loves you back, who knows all of your flaws and what you’re going through, and still sticks with you (and vice versa) when shit hits the fan. And that’s what they embody.

It’s also what I want for Malex eventually. Once they are together, I want them to be and stay together. I want them to handle any problems coming their way as a team, I want them to work through issues instead of giving up and looking for something “easy”.

Yesterday, I rewatched the DC FanDome panel with Superman & Lois show runner Todd Helbing, Hoechlin, and Bitsie, and what once again stood out to me was that Todd said we won’t see Clark “cheat” on Lois (meaning that there won’t be a dumb “love triangle” with Lana Lang, thank fuck), and that no one wants to see the two women set up against each other.

And I was like YES, thank you, these are people in their early 40s, and Clark and Lois have this once in a million kinda love. I really don’t want to see that put in jeopardy for a cheap and endlessly boring “love triangle” (srsly, burn that fucking trope to the ground, I can’t stand it).

So yeah, I’m not just watching, I’m heavily invested, and I can’t wait to watch the next episode.

In addition, seeing Hoechlin being (so rightfully) praised for his portrayal, gives me the biggest kick! I’ve been a huge Hoechlin fan for a decade now, and it makes me so damn proud to see him doing so well. And after it’s been very quiet around him for the past two years (hence RNM taking over my life), it’s just an absolute delight to see him on my Twitter or IG feed on a daily basis, watch new interviews, or reblog gif sets of his pretty face.

My love for him never went away (it was just a bit dormant due to the lack of input), but it’s back in full force, baby. He’s my boo, and I can’t wait to see where this show’s going. I’m definitely in for the long run!

JUST LOOK AT HIM! MAJESTIC AF! 😍😍😍😍😍

#i'm obsessed #the show's so good #sal spoilers #nonnie asks

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little-writings · 4 years

Text

A Present with a Personal Touch (Jumin x MC)

Unsure of what to get Jumin for the holiday season, you seek out advice from V to help solve your problem.

Word Count: 1,583

Happy holidays to everyone -- no matter what you’re celebrating I hope today is absolutely amazing for you! Life has been absolutely hectic for me but I’m glad to say I’ve made it to this point and I’m ready for the future, whatever that might bring! Thank you all endlessly for your patience and I hope this little prompt might make up for my constant absence. (ღ˘⌣˘ღ)

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The holidays were quickly approaching – from one second to the next it was November and December came bursting through your door.

Usually, that wasn’t a problem for you; you adored seeing the seasons change from the warmth of orange, red, and yellow trees to the coverings of snow over their once lumbering branches, and the holiday lights that would brighten up the world around you more than the very stars in the sky.

The only issue was Jumin – just what to give him, that is. After all, what could you give to the man who had everything?

You spent many nights creeping from your husband’s arms in bed to pace nervously about in his office over the topic; plenty of notes scribbled with writing only to be crumpled and tossed away at your dismissal.

It wasn’t that you weren’t trying – you were. Desperately so. You wanted nothing more than to bring the light in his eyes that he so often brought to you – to give him something heartfelt and touching and new in his life of riches.

But what on earth could that thing be?

“I... I want this to be special!” You exclaimed over the phone. Somehow, in the midst of V’s constant travels and supposed work, you’d managed to catch him in a moment of free time. You spent the first few minutes of that free time, thanking him, though, V seemed a tad bit lonely himself – more than happy to accept your earnest, friendly company. “But I... I just don’t know what I could do! Whatever I get him – he could just as easily buy!”

“You’re right.” V hummed, a tinge of gentle amusement in his voice. “But I think he’d love anything so long as it’s from you.”

You folded your lips and sighed with a drop of your shoulders. “I know, but I don’t want it to be just anything. Jumin has changed my life in so many wonderful, amazing ways – I found my best friend, my husband – I just want to show him how thankful I am for everything... for him.”

Red crept onto your cheeks as you fiddled with your wedding ring, a smile spreading across your face in such a way that was easier than breathing.

“I love him so, so much, and I know he knows that, but I want to show him!”

V chuckled. “You mean other than the fact that you married him?”

“Well, I’d marry him all over again if I could!”

A bright wave of laughter poured in from the other line, and though you couldn’t see V, you could perfectly envision the grin painting his expression.

“Jumin may not believe in soulmates but the two of you are as close as it comes. In spite of what you may believe, Jumin didn’t always have everything – he only truly gained it when he met you.”

At your pause he continued, sincerity etched in him like the finest needlework. “He told me that. He does often.”

“Really?”

V simpered. “Of course.” He thought for a moment, his mind traveling far beyond the phone or where he was. “When we were growing up, the first gift I ever gave Jumin was a painting of where we first met – he was the first person I ever showed my artwork to and... he’d always been supportive.”

You’d never heard V open up in such a way to you before and you nearly forgot to breathe in your surprise, listening intently.

“The painting wasn’t encrusted with diamonds or lined with gold but he hugged the canvas so tightly when I gave it to him I worried it’d snap in half!”

He laughed, and you believed for a moment it might’ve sounded wistful, yearning for a past he could no longer grasp. He was quick to hide it away in an instant, taking in a slow, quiet breath. “The gifts that matter the most to Jumin aren’t the ones that are the most expensive or extraordinary – but the ones that come from your heart. It’s truly the thought that counts most for him.”

“Thank you, V... that was wonderful.” You spoke softly as if any louder and you might frighten him away. Truthfully, never having seen him so vulnerable might’ve left you a bit clueless, but you tried. “I really do appreciate your help.”

“I’m more than happy to help. Do you think you have an idea?”

You nodded, a glimmer of excitement brimming to life inside your chest.

“Yes, I think I do.”

And with that, your work began.

You wrote as if your life depended on it, a never-ending whirlwind of scribbles on paper that left your hand sore and aching like you’d never known.

But you would’ve done it all over again in a heartbeat. It was worth it. Jumin was utterly worth it.

You just simply couldn’t wait for the holidays to finally arrive.

And when it did, you were practically bouncing in your excitement.

Jumin too, took to the festivities with an odd bit of delight anyone else would rarely see. His tie was dotted with snowflakes and he might’ve worn a pair of reindeer antlers on his head – only upon your asking, however.

“Are you sure it doesn’t look... silly?”

You pressed a quick kiss to his nose, a few giggles slipping through your voice. “It looks perfect!”

“You’re too kind, love.”

“No, I’m just honest.” You took a few steps back and tapped your feet in anticipation, practically antsy. “Are you ready for your present?”

Jumin had woken you up that morning with his own gifts for you, his expression lighting up with pure joy each time you opened something up. His gifts were surprisingly small and personal – little things he‘d notice your gaze holding or reminded him of you -- a new turnaround that he admitted he’d needed a helping hand from the RFA to accomplish.

You weren’t afraid to admit your heart absolutely melted at the sight of it all.

And now, it was your turn to do the same for Jumin.

You scrambled for the box and gave it to your husband hurriedly, a simple box made up of festive stripes and a bright bow settled atop.

“Go on, go ahead!” You beamed warmly, Jumin chuckling at your eagerness. “I think you’ll like it!”

“I’m sure I will dear.”

He fiddled with the box curiously before opening it up, lifting up a leather-bound book, his brows raising intently at the sight of a note written on the very first page.

“To all the chapters that have yet to be written. I can’t wait to experience them all with you.”

“When I stayed with you -- when you began opening up to me -- you told me how much you loved stories, and you read me your favorite,” You reminisced on that time with a fond, wide smile that brought those familiar butterflies fluttering in your stomach. “So I wanted to write my favorite story.”

Jumin’s lips parted with a gentle, hesitant breath, almost afraid he’d somehow be wrong as he spoke.

“Is this...?”

You nodded, biting back a small, sheepish laugh. “It’s our story.”

As if you hung the very stars themselves, Jumin stared at you in utter and absolute awe.

Of all the gifts Jumin had received, in all their shapes and sizes, only a few had truly taken his breath away. Even fewer presents had managed to cause his heart to swell.

Your present, brought his heart to a melting point.

Jumin began to read the pages in bits and pieces -- glimpses of your view of him in the beginning of your days in the RFA to your wedding night -- each word of how your feelings grew and your bond deepened etching that much further inside of him.

He hadn’t even realized the tears brimming in his eyes until your hands wrapped around his cheeks, your thumbs gingerly wiping away at the teardrops.

“Oh no, no what’s wrong?” Curls of Jumin’s hair became entangled around your fingertips as you brought his expression to you. A sudden wave of panic coursed through you only to mellow at the sight of the warm smile on his face.

“Nothing is wrong, love, nothing at all.” He chuckled. “I’d even say things are as close to perfect as such a thing can be.”

“They’re the good kind of tears?”

“The very good kind.” Jumin mused.”I just remembered how incredibly lucky I am... how incredibly lucky and irrevocably happy I am.”

He pulled you close, the book kept to his chest as if it’d be a tragedy to ever let go. Your husband’s forehead rested against your own and steadied himself in spite of the slightest tremors in his voice.

“Thank you... not just for this... but for everything. I truly don’t want to imagine what my life would be without you -- I don’t want to imagine any sort of life without you.”

“You don’t have to! I’m not going anywhere!” You grinned. “We still have all those extra pages to fill up after all!”

“We might need another book, you know.”

“And why’s that?”

Jumin pressed a tender kiss between your brows and eased you into an embrace that like a blanket, you simply enveloped yourself in. There wasn’t a single other place in the world, you’d rather be than right there in his arms, listening as he whispered the answer into your ear.

“Because I don’t think I ever want our story to end.”

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kkintle · 4 years

Text

Looking for Alaska by John Green; Quotes

“Francois Rabelais. He was this poet. And his last words were 'I go to seek a Great Perhaps.' That's why I'm going. So I don't have to wait until I die to start seeking a Great Perhaps.”

Because you simply cannot draw these things out forever. At some point, you just pull off the Band-Aid and it hurts, but then it's over and you're relieved.

“'He'—that's Simon Bolivar—*was shaken by the overwhelming revelation that the headlong race between his misfortunes and his dreams was at that moment reaching the finish line. The rest was darkness. ”Damn it,“ he sighed. ”How will I ever get out of thislabyrinth!'“”

She had the kind of eyes that predisposed you to supporting her every endeavor.

Because you may be smart, but I've been smart longer.

(...) the most important pursuit in history: the search for meaning. What is the nature of being a person? What is the best way to go about being a person? How did we come to be, and what will become of us when we are no longer? In short: What are the rules of this game, and how might we best play it?"

I learned that myth doesn't mean a lie; it means a traditional story that tells you something about people and their worldview and what they hold sacred.

She smiled with all the delight of a kid on Christmas morning and said, “Y'all smoke to enjoy it. I smoke to die.”

(...) and I jogged after him, trailing in his wake. I wanted to be one of those people who have streaks to maintain, who scorch the ground with their intensity. But for now, at least I knew such people, and they needed me, just like comets need tails.

“You've got a lifetime to mull over the Buddhist understanding of interconnectedness.” He spoke every sentence as if he'd written it down, memorized it, and was now reciting it. “But while you were looking out the window, you missed the chance to explore the equally interesting Buddhist belief in being present for every facet of your daily life, of being truly present. Be present in this class. And then, when it's over, be present out there,” he said, nodding toward the lake and beyond.

“I may die young,” she said. “But at least I'll die smart. Now, back to tangents.”

“Getting out isn't that easy,” she said seriously, her eyes on mine like I knew the way out and wouldn't tell her.

“Imagining the future is a kind of nostalgia.” “Huh?” I asked. “You spend your whole life stuck in the labyrinth, thinking about how you'll escape it one day, and how awesome it will be, and imagining that future keeps you going, but you never do it. You just use the future to escape the present.”

“Sometimes I don't get you,” I said. She didn't even glance at me. She just smiled toward the television and said, “You never get me. That's the whole point.”

“He loves me,” Alaska told me as we walked back to the dorm circle. “He loves all y'all, too. He just loves the school more. That's the thing. He thinks busting us is good for the school and good for us. It's the eternal struggle, Pudge. The Good versus the Naughty.”

“Sometimes you lose a battle. But mischief always wins the war.”

“So Friday? Do you have plans for Friday?” And then I laughed, because the Colonel and I didn't have plans for this Friday, or for any other Friday for the rest of our lives.

And I vaguely remember Lara smiling at me from the doorway, the glittering ambiguity of a girl's smile, which seems to promise an answer to the question but never gives it. The question, the one we've all been asking since girls stopped being gross, the question that is too simple to be uncomplicated: Does she like me or like me?

“It is sad,” I repeated. “I mean, it's stupid to miss someone you didn't even get along with. But, I don't know, it was nice, you know, having someone you could always fight with.”

“Sorry. Don't worry, dude,” he said. “God will punish the wicked. And before He does, we will.”

“Hold on.” He grabbed a pencil and scrawled excitedly at the paper as if he'd just made a mathematical breakthrough and then looked back up at me. “I just did some calculations, and I've been able to determine that you're full of shit.”

“It's not life or death, the labyrinth.” “Urn, okay. So what is it?” “Suffering,” she said. “Doing wrong and having wrong things happen to you. That's the problem. Bolivar was talking about the pain, not about the living or dying. How do you get out of the labyrinth of suffering?” “What's wrong?” I asked. And I felt the absence of her hand on me. “Nothing's wrong. But there's always suffering, Pudge. Homework or malaria or having a boyfriend who lives far away when there's a good-looking boy lying next to you. Suffering is universal. It's the one thing Buddhists, Christians, and Muslims are all worried about.”

“You shall love your crooked neighbour/ With your crooked heart,”

I wanted so badly to lie down next to her on the couch, to wrap my arms around her and sleep. Not fuck, like in those movies. Not even have sex. Just sleep together, in the most innocent sense of the phrase. But I lacked the courage and she had a boyfriend and I was gawky and she was gorgeous and I was hopelessly boring and she was endlessly fascinating. So I walked back to my room and collapsed on the bottom bunk, thinking that if people were rain, I was drizzle and she was a hurricane.

“Night falls fast. Today is in the past,”

Alaska decided to go help Dolores with dinner. She said that it was sexist to leave the cooking to the women, but better to have good sexist food than crappy boy-prepared food.

“Don't you know who you love, Pudge? You love the girl who makes you laugh and shows you porn and drinks wine with you. You don't love the crazy, sullen bitch.” And there was something to that, truth be told.

People, I thought, wanted security. They couldn't bear the idea of death being a big black nothing, couldn't bear the thought of their loved ones not existing, and couldn't even imagine themselves not existing. I finally decided that people believed in an afterlife because they couldn't bear not to.

The Great Perhaps was upon us, and we were invincible. The plan may have had faults, but we did not.

“Prick us, we bleed. Prick him, he pops.”

I don't know. Like the way the sun is right now, with the long shadows and that kind of bright, soft light you get when the sun isn't quite setting? That's the light that makes everything better, everything prettier, and today, everything just seemed to be in that light.

I found myself thinking about President William McKinley, the third American president to be assassinated. He lived for several days after he was shot, and toward the end, his wife started crying and screaming, “I want to go, too! I want to go, too!” And with his last measure of strength, McKinley turned to her and spoke his last words: “We are all going.”

There comes a time when we realize that our parents cannot save themselves or save us, that everyone who wades through time eventually gets dragged out to sea by the undertow—that, in short, we are all going.

“Pudge, what you must understand about me is that I ama deeply unhappy person.”

“But a lot of times, people die how they live. And so last words tell me a lot about who people were, and why they became the sort of people biographies get written about. Does that make sense?”

And what is an “instant” death anyway? How long is an instant? Is it one second? Ten? The pain of those seconds must have been awful as her heart burst and her lungs collapsed and there was no air and no blood to her brain and only raw panic. What the hell is instant? Nothing is instant. Instant rice takes five minutes, instant pudding an hour. I doubt that an instant of blinding pain feels particularly instantaneous.

Straight & Fast.

How will we ever get out of this labyrinth of suffering?—A. Y.

“Because everybody who has ever lost their way in life has felt the nagging insistence of that question. At some point we all look up and realize we are lost in a maze, (...)

I wondered if there would ever be a day when I didn't think about Alaska, wondered whether I should hope for a time when she would be a distant memory—recalled only on the anniversary of her death, or maybe a couple of weeks after, remembering only after having forgotten. I knew that I would know more dead people. The bodies pile up. Could there be a space in my memory for each of them, or would I forget a little of Alaska every day for the rest of my life?

“You can't just make me different and then leave,” I said out loud to her. “Because I was fine before, Alaska. I was fine with just me and last words and school friends, and you can't just make me different and then die.” For she had embodied the Great Perhaps—she had proved to me that it was worth it to leave behind my minor life for grander maybes, and now she was gone and with her my faith in perhaps. I could call everything the Colonel said and did “fine.” I could try to pretend that I didn't care anymore, but it could never be true again. You can't just make yourself matter and then die, Alaska, because now I am irretrievably different, and I'm sorry I let you go, yes, but you made the choice. You left me Perhapsless, stuck in your goddamned labyrinth. And now I don't even know if you chose the straight and fast way out, if you left me like this on purpose. And so I never knew you, did I? I can't remember, because I never knew.

The times that were the most fun seemed always to be followed by sadness now, because it was when life started to feel like it did when she was with us that we realized how utterly, totally gone she was.

'Everything that comes together falls apart,'” the Old Man said. "Everything. The chair I'm sitting on. It was built, and so it will fall apart. I'm gonna fall apart, probably before this chair. And you're gonna fall apart. The cells and organs and systems that make you you—they came together, grew together, and so must fall apart. The Buddha knew one thing science didn't prove for millennia after his death: Entropy increases. Things fall apart."

We are all going, I thought, and it applies to turtles and turtlenecks, Alaska the girl and Alaska the place, because nothing can last, not even the earth itself. The Buddha said that suffering was caused by desire, we'd learned, and that the cessation of desire meant the cessation of suffering. When you stopped wishing things wouldn't fall apart, you'd stop suffering when they did.

The hardest part about pranking, Alaska told me once, is not being able to confess.

I'd finally had enough of chasing after a ghost who did not want to be discovered. We'd failed, maybe, but some mysteries aren't meant to be solved. I still did not know her as I wanted to, but I never could.

Did I help you toward a fate you didn't want, Alaska, or did I just assist in your willful self-destruction? Because they are different crimes, and I didn't know whether to feel angry at her for making me part of her suicide or just to feel angry at myself for letting her go.

“After all this time, it still seems to me like straight and fast is the only way out—but I choose the labyrinth. The labyrinth blows, but I choose it.”

(...) we had to forgive to survive in the labyrinth. There were so many of us who would have to live with things done and things left undone that day. Things that did not go right, things that seemed okay at the time because we could not see the future. If only we could see the endless string of consequences that result from our smallest actions. But we can't know better until knowing better is useless.

I still think that, sometimes, think that maybe “the afterlife” is just something we made up to ease the pain of loss, to make our time in the labyrinth bearable. Maybe she was just matter, and matter gets recycled.

But ultimately I do not believe that she was only matter. The rest of her must be recycled, too. I believe now that we are greater than the sum of our parts. If you take Alaska's genetic code and you add her life experiences and the relationships she had with people, and then you take the size and shape of her body, you do not get her. There is something else entirely. There is a part of her greater than the sum of her knowable parts. And that part has to go somewhere, because it cannot be destroyed.

Those awful things are survivable, because we are as indestructible as we believe ourselves to be. When adults say, “Teenagers think they are invincible” with that sly, stupid smile on their faces, they don't know how right they are. We need never be hopeless, because we can never be irreparably broken. We think that we are invincible because we are. We cannot be born, and we cannot die. Like all energy, we can only change shapes and sizes and manifestations. They forget that when they get old. They get scared of losing and failing. But that part of us greater than the sum of our parts cannot begin and cannot end, and so it cannot fail.

So I know she forgives me, just as I forgive her. Thomas Edison's last words were: “It's very beautiful over there.” I don't know where there is, but I believe it's somewhere, and I hope it's beautiful.

Most loves don't last. (Whitney sure didn't. I can't even remember her last name.) But some do.

Almost by definition, last words are difficult to verify. Witnesses are emotional, time gets conflated, and the speaker isn't around to clear up any controversy.

I was born into Bolivar's labyrinth, and so I must believe in the hope of Rabelais' Great Perhaps.

#looking for alaska #John green #quotes #fiction

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sdottkrames · 4 years

Text

You’ll Always Be Adored By the Things You [Save]

@comfortember prompt 12: Emotional support pet

Summary: Her name is Tess, and everybody adores her.

Notes: I honestly just love Tom and his love for Tess. They are the cutest! I’m thinking about making more with Tess, so if you like this, let me know and maybe I will! 😊

Also: Lucy and Rocky were the names of my dogs growing up. Lucy was a sassy, adorable Shih Tzu, and Rocky was the kindest, gentlest Boxer you’d ever meet. They both have since passed (they lived very long, happy lives) but I wanted to add them in this story somehow. I’m just a cheeseball. Also, Zendaya (MJ) Played a character named Rocki in a Disney show called Shake It Up, so it was a little nod to that as well.

Read on AO3: Here

“Tony, I’m really worried about him.”

May poked her head around the corner of their apartment, making sure Peter was still asleep. His breathing was too even for him to be faking, and she sighed in relief before continuing.

“He’s been off ever since the...the blip. I can tell. He’s been eating a lot less, and I looked at his grades the other day. Tony, that boy has never gotten below an A-, but he got a C+ on his last Physics test. And that’s not even including the fact that he was stabbed last night because his Peter Tingle isn’t working right.” Her voice was rising in pitch and volume, right in time with the panic that was welling up inside her.

May and Tony had been having weekly conference calls about their resident spider since May had found out about it, and they’d quickly picked it back up once they had been undusted. Their normally lighthearted calls filled with mostly laughter had taken a more somber tone recently.

Tony hummed on the other end of the phone. “I’ve been worried, too.”

Those words, though not necessarily helpful, made May feel less alone. She was grateful someone was helping her take care of her nephew because he was doing a terrible job of doing it himself, as evidenced by the stab wound on his left side. He’d come home weak and bleeding the previous night, and May had hurriedly patched him up, her training as a nurse the only thing keeping her panic in check.

“I honestly don’t know what to do, May. We tried letting him come to us and that didn’t work. I’ve got a list of great therapists-”

May cut him off. “He’ll never do that. I already tried that one, and he insisted that he didn’t want me paying money for him. I even pulled the whole “your mentor is a billionaire, and he would want you to get help” card, but he was pretty adamant.”

Tony sighed, and May felt it echo deep in her bones. They ended the call shortly after, no closer to a solution for Peter than before.

The next week on their call, Tony’s voice was considerably more lighthearted. She attributed it to the fact that Peter hadn’t been injured that week, but then he excitedly announced that had “the best idea!”

May’s eyebrows rose, even though she knew Tony couldn’t see them. “I’m listening.”

“Okay. How do you feel about dogs?”

“Oh,” May breathed.

“Yeah. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it earlier.”

“Me either. He’s been asking for a dog since he was, like, 5. The only problem is,” May said, biting her lip. “Our landlord doesn’t allow dogs.”

“I’ll take care of that,” Tony promised, and May nearly snorted at the thought of their stuffy, no-nonsense landlady getting a visit from Tony Stark. She pitied the woman.

***

“Ms., ah, Levitt, is it?”

The lady looked up from her desk, and immediately blinked in shock. Tony internally rolled his eyes when the lady blushed and started trying to fix her hair, the look on her face one he’d seen on way too many women in his earlier years.

No chance, lady, I’m married. He thought, but flashed her a kind smile, anyway. “Are you the landlady of this apartment building?”

“I am. Pleasure to meet you, sir.”

Tony shook her offered hand, not holding on for a second longer than necessary. “Likewise. I am here on behalf of the Parker family...apartment 96. I was thinking about getting Peter an emotional support animal. He blipped, and has been having trouble adjusting, and I heard cute, fluffy animals work wonders. But I understand you don’t allow those?”

Levitt’s smile hardened. “Yes, I’m afraid we have a non-negotiable no-pet policy.”

She obviously hated animals. And probably little children. Figures. Luckily, years watching Pepper hand stuffy businessmen their behinds had taught Tony a thing or two. He could handle this lady.

“Well, I took the liberty of reviewing things, and did you know that, by law, emotional support or therapy animals must be allowed in any building? That includes yours. Now, I understand that there is a fee associated with having a therapy animal, which I will cover, and of course proper documentation, which I have right here.” Tony produced the paperwork, signed by Dr. Cho, stating that Peter should be allowed a therapy animal of his choosing. “If there are any further problems, I’m sure my wife would be happy to speak to you. She and our lawyer will be handling any legal issues.”

Tony watched in satisfaction as Ms. Levitt’s face blanched, knowing she was beat. Nobody could go up against Pepper Potts-Stark and win.

She breathed heavily through her nose once then plastered a smile back on her face, though it didn’t meet her eyes. “That won’t be necessary. We value the Parkers. The fee is an extra $125 a month. Once you have the animal, bring the proof of licensure and ESA status, and we should be all set.”

Tony had her put his card on file so the payment would come out of his account. This was his gift to Peter (and May. Though she wouldn't admit it, he knew that she also loved animals and would have bought one (or two) if they’d had the money) and then stood to leave.

“Have a nice day,” he said, giving Levitt a cheery wave before waltzing out the door. He had a kid to surprise.

***

“Tony, really, where are we going?”

“For the millionth time, I’m not going to tell you, so stop wasting your breath.” Peter huffed indignantly, and Tony shoved his arm playfully. “Patience is a virtue, underoos.”

“And pride is a sin, yet here we are,” Peter quipped.

“Yes, here we are,” Tony said, grinning as Happy pulled the car into a parking spot in front of Rocky’s Shelter and Supplies. Tony had spent hours researching adoption agencies around, wanting to find a really good one to support, and Rocky’s had been one of the best he’d seen. Plus, they had a great variety to choose from. (And no, he hadn’t been crying looking at all the animals, who told you that?)

Peter’s reaction was everything Tony had hoped for. The kids brown eyes got impossibly larger, and filled with tears.

“R-really?” He squeaked. “But our apartment doesn’t allow dogs.”

Tony grinned. “I threatened to sic Pepper on her.”

Then Peter was hugging Tony around the middle, murmuring an unbroken stream of thankyou’s.

“I heard you’ve been wanting one for a while, and May and I figured having a furry companion might help with everything. You gotta promise-“

“That I’ll take care of it? Of course I will! I’ve been preparing for this my entire life! When I was 11, I made a PowerPoint presentation demonstrating proper care of a dog, just to show Ben and May I would take care of one. I wanted a dog soooo bad. I can’t believe I’m actually getting one.”

Tony chuckled at Peter’s rambling. “I’m glad you’re excited. But I was going to say you gotta promise that you’ll take better care of yourself, too.”

Peter nodded fast, his curls bouncing, which was endlessly endearing. “I promise!”

“Then lead the way.”

They spent time with a number of different dogs, taking their time to find just the right one. Tony could tell he was going to have to physically restrain Peter (And himself, if he was being totally honest) from buying every single dog in the shelter. The kid dragged him to every cage, exclaiming how cute each “pupper” (what even was this generation’s lingo?) was, and blinking back tears at nearly every one.

Then Peter met Tess.

Tony had started believing in love at first sight when he’d seen Pepper in that purple dress she’d worn to a charity event years ago. Then he’d been absolutely sure of it when he’d held Morgan in his arms for the first time, the love he felt for her so strong and immediate and real that it had chased away the fear of becoming his dad that threatened to paralyze him.

But feeling it and witnessing it was two different things.

He wondered if he’d looked like Peter when he’d laid eyes on the two most important and precious women in his life. The little gasp, the soft smile, the look of complete awe. Basically, the definition of the heart-eyes emojis.

“This one,” Peter breathed, his voice thick with emotion. “Can I meet her?”

The lady helping them, a sweet girl named Lucy, unlocked the cage and brought the beautiful grey pup over to the room for humans and dogs to meet, and as soon as Peter was close enough, she was all over him, her tail thumping with abandon.

“Yeah, I think we’ll take her,” Tony said over Peter’s delighted giggles.

***

Tess loved everybody, but it was no secret who her favorite was. No matter who she was with or what she was doing, as soon as Peter was in the room, she was right by his side. She was his shadow, following him around like a planet following the sun.

So Tony should’ve realized that something was wrong when she came trotting into his lab without Peter.

Granted, it wasn’t uncommon for her to come get pats from someone else when Peter wasn’t available, like when he was at school or on patrol or asleep. But Tony should’ve known that at 4 PM on a Thursday, Peter should have been doing none of those things. It was a lab day, Peter’s day off from Spider-Manning, and too early for the normally energetic kid to be asleep.

As it was, Tony was so focused on fixing Dum-E (who had spun too hard showing off for Peter the other day) that he just patted her head without looking. He nearly dropped his screwdriver when Tess gave a high pitched yip.

Tony finally looked up. “What’s the matter, girl. You gotta go out?”

Tess barked again, high pitched and insistent, her big eyes so expressive he could almost see what she was thinking.

“Peter,” he gasped, his stomach plummeting all the way down to his shoes. “Where is he, girl?”

Tessa tore out the door needing no further prompting, Tony right on her heels. She stopped outside Peter’s door whining anxiously, and Tony quickly opened it, dread filling him.

His first reaction was relief. There was no blood, at least not that he could see. Then his worry returned even stronger because Peter was laying on the ground not moving and there wasn't any blood. At least blood made it easier to identify the problem!

“Friday!” He choked out, rushing to Peter’s side. He was still breathing, but it sounded noisy and labored. He was also conscious, but Tony couldn’t tell if that was a good thing or not because there was so much fear in his eyes, and it broke Tony’s heart right in two.

“Dr. Cho is already on her way, sir. If I may, it appears Peter is having an allergic reaction, going into anaphylactic shock. You must keep him awake until the Dr gets here,” Friday answered.

Teas whined again, nudging Peter’s hand.

“Good girl, Tess. You’re such a good girl!” Tony said, patting her head then turning to Peter. “Well kid, if you didn’t want to do lab day today, you could’ve just said so. No need for all the theatrics; that’s kinda my department.”

Tony kept rambling, slapping Peter gently whenever he started to close his eyes, until Cho was rushing in. She quickly stabbed him with an epipen and started to prepare him to go to the infirmary, pausing when Tess growled, the first time she’d ever done that.

“Easy, Tessa-girl. She’s helping Peter. Let’s go with ‘em, yeah? You can keep watching our boy.”

They made their way to the infirmary, where Peter was being given medicine to combat whatever had caused him to react that way. Tony nearly doubled over laughing when he heard what it was, the stress making him slightly hysterical. It really wasn’t funny.

“Peppermint?” He asked Peter later, once Peter could talk and had been deemed out of the woods. Tess was curled up as close as she could to him, and Tony was sitting on the chair next to the bed.

“I just wanted a peppermint hot chocolate from Starbucks. I used to love those,” Peter pouted. “But apparently Peppermint is toxic to spiders. I guess I hadn’t had any peppermint since the change.”

“Well how about never do that again. My heart cannot take that stress.”

Tess whined in agreement.

***

Tony was quickly learning that Tess was a lot like Peter. Her ability to get everybody to love her, for one, and her penchant for cuddles.

Which is how Tony found himself one Friday night squished on the couch with a teenager tucked tightly into his side and a 30 pound dog laying across his lap while watching Bolt. They were both happily situated, Peter nearly purring as Tony ran his hands through his hair and Tess’ tail thumping gently against Tony’s leg. He pretended not to like it, but he was so comfortable, he quickly fell asleep.

He didn’t sleep very long.

Soon after his eyes closed, he woke up in a panic, his heart beating rapidly, a sense of panic overwhelming him. He couldn’t remember what the dream that woke him up had been about, which only made the sense of foreboding worse. He closed his eyes again, pretending to still be asleep as he quietly struggled to get his breathing under control.

Suddenly, a weight settled on top of him. He opened his eyes in surprise, and realized Tess had climbed into his lap, putting her head on his shoulder and her front paws on his chest. It was strangely comforting, her weight and warmth, but surprising nonetheless.

“Whatcha doing there, girl?” He chuckled.

“Pressure therapy,” Peter answered. “Something I taught her to do whenever I’m having an anxiety attack or sensory overload. It helps. She must’ve sensed you were panicking.”

“Huh.” Tony shook his head in wonder.

“You alright?” Peter asked, tentatively.

“Yeah. Just a bad dream. I don’t even know what it was about, just left me feeling anxious.”

Peter nodded, and slid his hand into Tony’s. Boy and dog didn’t move a muscle until Tony’s heart was a normal rhythm again. Or...maybe a little while after that. They really did love snuggles. And Tony...yet another thing they had in common.

Luckily, he loved them both right back just as much.

#comfortember 2020 #comfortember #i love my iron dad and spidey son #mine

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girlmeetsliv3 · 5 years

Text

Violent Delights

Title: Violent Delights

Genre: Horror, suspense, & Psychological thriller

Pairings: Gang!BTS x reader ; Jimin x reader

Sypnosis: "These violent delights have violent ends And in their triumph die, like fire and powder, which as they kiss, consume. What do you say, Y/n? Reckon we'll have a violent end." He maniacally grinned as he pressed the metallic point of the gun against your bleeding temple, the raw brass stinging against your open wound. "I don't know. We might."

Release Date: October 31st, 2019 6:30 pm (GMT-4)

Word Count: 9112

Warnings: The following story is not suitable for all audiences. It contains a lot of graphic violence, gore, varying levels of abuse, toxic relationship, dubious consent, implications of dangerous behavior, and a lot of other mature things. Please keep in mind this is a work of fiction and is not meant to reflect my personal beliefs or ideas, or the character of BTS. Thank you & enjoy.

Y/n stared at the round clock mounted on the wall, listening to the rhythmic ticking while willing the time to pass by faster. Kang Haneul, her therapist, was busy writing down his thoughts on their session today. “Is there anything else you would like to talk about before we wrap up?” His tone nonchalant, but from the tiny twitch of his ears she could tell he was listening intently. “No.” Y/n drew her attention back to the clock, anxiously waiting for the minute hand to land on the twelve. Dr. Kang looked up from his paper and focus on the anxious woman in front of him. Today’s session had been good. He was steadily making progress with the woman that his other colleagues had warned would be a tough case to crack, especially for someone with little experience. Kang did always love a challenge and he was determined to help Y/l/n Y/n no matter what.

58..59…Finally. Y/n stood up from the tweed couch and began to gather her stuff. “Thank you doctor. Have a good evening.” Her purse was perched on her arm and her leg trembled slightly, she couldn’t wait to get home. “Have a good evening, Y/n. Remember to pick up your prescription from Joy at the front.” She nodded and excused herself, the soles of her rubber shoes squeaking slightly against the white tile floor. Y/n was always scheduled for the last appointment, three times a week, it made things easier and she didn’t have to worry about traffic. Joy had already finished packing up and seemed tired, but she still greeted Y/n with a smile. “Here you go.” Joy said placing the prescription bottle on the counter. It was small and white, anyone could easily confuse it for pain medication unless they read the label. “Thanks Joy. Have a nice night.” Y/n grabbed the bottle and dropped it into her bag, before walking away. “Wait. Y/n don’t you want me to order you a ride?” Joy asked as she peered outside through the large window, noting how dark it had gotten in just a couple of hours. Y/n looked back, a practiced smile on her face. “It’s no problem. It isn’t that long of a walk.”

It definitely was a long walk. Nearly thirty minutes to her apartment, but Y/n enjoyed strolling through the city. It wasn’t the weekend so there wasn’t an abundance of people crowding the streets trying to seek entertainment in one way or another. She didn’t live in the best neighborhood, but she had lived there long enough to know her way and what streets to avoid if she didn’t want trouble. Problem is trouble usually came looking for her. It was as she was crossing in front of the older part of town, the one riddled with shabby looking buildings were mainly seniors resided that she heard it. A loud scream of pain followed by laughter. Don’t. Just keep walking. But it came again; this time she heard a loud metal clang and a groan. Y/n stood frozen on the spot, an alleyway to her right. It was practically shrouded in darkness if not for a small lamp that hung off the side of a building, several feet away. Y/n just keep walking. As much as she tried, she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Doctor Kang had told her that it was important to lend a hand if someone was in trouble, no matter what her mind told her. “Try to place yourself in their shoes. Wouldn’t you want somebody to help you if they were in trouble?” Y/n cast one more look into the alleyway before taking a deep breath and stepping towards it.

There was conveniently a large dumpster that she crouched behind. Y/n wasn’t about to walk head first into a situation without knowing what she was getting herself into. There was another holler of laughter, it dawned on her that there might be more than one perp. As stealthily as she could, Y/n sneaked a glance towards where the sound was coming from. The lamp was only illuminating a small section of the alleyway, but even with the faint light Y/n could see everything. There was a man and women laying on the ground, the man’s body was severely damaged. Several bruises lined his torso, his skull was cracked open, teeth scattered on the ground, and his hand was pressed against his abdomen which had been ripped open as he desperately tried to keep his intestines inside. The woman beside him had her clothes ripped to shreds and a large bruising on her side, evidence of broken ribs. Her head was also bleeding, and her eyes moved deliriously. Y/n’s entire attention was on the victims, until she witnessed a crowbar flighting into the man’s face driving his nose up into his skull. Y/n was in shock and her eyes slowly traveled to the left.

There were several men, seven or eight maybe, who were standing above them. Laughing, smiling, or cracking jokes. Their clothes had been stained with blood and each of them had a weapon on hand, except for one who possessed a camera. All of them cheered as the man’s now dead body fell to the side. The woman beside him letting out a shrill of terror. Y/n observed everything with amazement and a sick fascination. This is wrong. What they’re doing is wrong. That was the phrase that kept repeating like a mantra inside her head. Doctor Kang would want her to call the police and get the men arrested, but even though her hand hovered over her phone in her back pocket, she never reached for it. Y/n didn’t like what the men were doing, nor did she get some twisted enjoyment off it. She simply didn’t care. There was a man and a woman on the brink of death right before her eyes and she couldn’t bring herself to care, even though she desperately wanted – needed to. Doctor Kang had said she was getting better, that she should begin to sympathize with people. Y/n hoped that she could, but now confronted with this situation all she could bring herself to care about was her survival. I have to get out of here.

One of the men crouched in front of the woman, his face a few inches from hers. Y/n couldn’t tell what it is that he had told her, but she had an idea. Until, he stood up and backed away from her. If Y/n focused on him she could notice his face, the man had light hair paired with high cheekbones and pouty lips. His skin was tan and his eyes sharp, quite like that of a cat. He parted his lips to speak, a singular word exiting them. “Run.” The woman struggled to get on her feet, but she quickly took off running towards Y/n’s direction. Don’t be stupid. He’ll just – But the man stayed still, as did his friends simply watching the woman run away. Would they actually? By now the woman was only a few meters away from exiting the alleyway, it was when she neared the dumpster that the man broke out into a sprint after her. She had just managed to pass the dumpster when he tackled her to the ground.

“No, please. Please don’t.” The woman thrashed around trying to fight him off, but it was evident he easily overpowered her. Y/n had forced herself into a corner and rolled into a ball, trying to look as inauspicious as possible. It would’ve been fine if the woman hadn’t turned towards her direction, making eye contact with Y/n. Y/n desperately shook her head, pleading her not to say anything. “Please help me!” She extended her arm out towards Y/n, causing the man to turn and look at her. A sadistic smile made its way onto his lips as he let out a dry chuckle. The perp focused his attention back on the woman, reaching into his pocket to pull out a knife and using it to jaggedly slice her throat. The woman flailed on the ground as the blood poured endlessly from her wound. Then she too was dead.

The man stood up and casually wiped off his jeans. Though he wasn’t staring at her, Y/n knew that he was watching her. “Jimin, let’s go. The fun’s over.” A member of the group spoke up, but the man, Jimin, only laughed. “It’s not quite over yet boys.” He said as his eyes trailed up Y/n’s figure. In the blink of an eye, Jimin had pounced on her, dragging her up off the ground. “What do we have here?” Jimin’s face had blood splattered all over it, but when he smiled his teeth were pearly white. Y/n couldn’t speak too afraid of what he would do to her. “What the fuck is going on?” The other men had finally reached them, all making a slight circle around the two of them. “I found a rat by the trash.” Jimin spoke, his voice deep almost like he was growling. “That isn’t a rat, it’s a lady.” Spoke a rather tall boy with long hair, crossing his arms over his rather large chest. All of them looked different and even had different statures, so Y/n doubted they were related. Jimin’s hands had traveled from your arms to your neck, his grip tight. “What’s your name sweetheart?” One of them asked, he stood apart from the rest. He was tall, tan, and had sandy blonde hair. A kind smile adorned his features, though it seemed rehearsed.

“Y-y/n.” It might have been rather reckless of her to give that away, but she was certain of her death. Sandy seemed pleased with her answer, but Jimin still let one of his hands drop towards her bottom, hovering over it until he located her phone. He quickly threw it to Sandy, who handed off to the guy who was holding the camera. “What’s your password?” Y/n quickly replied, eyes downcast as she tried to avoid Jimin’s intense stare. After a couple of minutes, the camera guy turned towards Sandy and nodded. Y/n couldn’t tell if that was a good thing or not. As if someone was watching over her, the man she long thought dead gasped drawing everyone’s attention. The men began to walk over to him and Jimin dragged her with them, his hand tightly wrapped in her hair. It seems he wasn’t dead just yet, which was some cruel miracle. “Yoongi.” Sandy muttered quietly, a grey-haired man stepped forward with a gun tightly clutched in his hand. He fired three blows into the man’s head; its contents flying all over the wall and floor.

Unbeknownst to Y/n, Jimin had been observing her actions and was shocked at her apathetic reaction to having seen someone’s brains being blown out. “What’s wrong with you?” He asked her, forcing Y/n to look at him. She couldn’t answer him, didn’t want to really. Y/n just wanted them to get over with it. “Namjoon-Hyung, I’m bored let’s go.” Whined the man with long hair. He must be the youngest. “He’s right. The cops will be here any second.” Spoke a broad-shouldered man, “Let’s just take the entertainment home.” Y/n wasn’t given time to dwell on their words, for Jimin flashed her a quick smile before aiming his fist towards her. Knocking her unconscious, the second they hit their target. “Haven’t I warned you not to help others?!”

Y/n came to when she felt searing pain on the side of her face. Her eyes peered open to view a concrete wall above her. When she tried to stand up, she was pulled back down by a strong force. “You’re not allowed to move.” She whipped her head to see, one of the men sitting next to her. His hair was wet, and his clothes smelled clean, but it was the dark swirls in his eyes that warned Y/n to proceed with caution. She didn’t speak, fearing saying the wrong thing. The man stared at her, taking in every detail of her face before speaking. “I’m Taehyung.” Taehyung looked around her age, his body lean and if she had seen him on the street Y/n might have considered him attractive. At the very least, she wouldn’t have considered him to be someone capable of cold-blooded murder. Taehyung observed her, watching the way she subconsciously made herself as little as possible. Keeping her gaze downward to avoid eye contact.

Y/n tried to flex her jaw but winced at the pain she felt. That’s right he punched me. Though her face hurt, she was much more curious as to why she wasn’t six feet underground. Not that Y/n was about to question them, she had learned from experience how keeping one’s mouth shut saved their lives. “Ah, good. You’re awake. Tae go help Jin in the kitchen.” Sandy or should she say, Namjoon had just entered walked down the stairs. His hair wet as well, and Y/n deduced they all must be cleaning up. I must’ve not been out that long. Namjoon walked towards where she was on the couch, stopping right in front of where she was sitting purposely towering over her. Y/n looked up at him, preferring to focus on his face in general. Namjoon gave her that rehearsed smile before speaking, “Why are you taking anti-depressants?” Y/n froze, casting a look around trying to find her purse. At her lack of response Namjoon took hold of her chin and pressed against the forming bruise on the side of her jaw, causing Y/n to moan in pain. “I asked you a question.”

“I-I have anxiety.” Y/n said, trying her best to remain calm. She wasn’t lying, sometimes her anxiety did swell up. “No that isn’t it.” Y/n was threading on thin ice, but it didn’t matter what choice she made – the ice would break and drag her down to the cool icy waters. Tears began to well in her eyes, as she couldn’t think of how to escape this situation. Namjoon smiled, “Are you afraid, Y/n?” She didn’t see a point in lying. “Yes.” Lying wouldn’t do her any good. It certainly wouldn’t get her out of this situation. Y/n didn’t know if she was playing her cards right, but she hoped everything she had endured as a child could prove useful somehow. Namjoon seemed pleased with her answer, letting go of her chin. Namjoon stepped back, “You’re probably hungry. There’s food in the kitchen, tell Jin I let you eat.” Y/n nodded and moved to stand when he suddenly grabbed her wrist, “Dr. Kang is your therapist, right?” It wasn’t a question. Even if she knew it wasn’t the right thing to do, Y/n nodded either way.

“Oh, yes. Your food is in the microwave.” Jin mumbled as he focused on cutting the raw meat with the sharp butcher’s knife. The meat was lean and dark in color, it didn’t resemble anything you had ever seen before but Jin went about cutting it with such expertise. The man was probably accustomed to cooking it. Y/n walked towards the corner were the microwave was, only for Taehyung to beat her to it. He opened the plastic door and took out it’s contents: rice, greens, and small bits of meat. “Here. Go eat upstairs, third room to the left.” The only utensil she was given was a plastic fork, but that was somewhat understandable. Not that she could cause much harm with a real fork. “Fighting back only leads to more trouble.” Y/n took her plate and exited the kitchen, proceeding to climb up the large stairs. Their home, if it could be called that, was a warehouse that had been remodeled to be a home.

Balancing everything on one hand, she entered the room assuming no one would be there. She was mistaken. Park Jimin still hadn’t removed the tack and gore from his clothing, simply resting on his bed waiting for Y/n to arrive. When she entered, he quickly stood up and shoved her inside the room; the plate nearly slipping from her hand. “Careful break a plate and I might have to break your neck.” Jimin enjoyed nothing more than seeing her frozen with terror. “I was waiting for you to wake up. Try the food, tell me what you think.” At those words, all her appetite seemingly vanished. Still Y/n moved towards a desk in the bedroom, trying to put the plate down. It’s likely poisoned. Even if it was from the piercing gaze of Jimin’s eyes she had no choice but to take a bite. If I don’t, he’ll probably stab me with the plastic fork. As if he needed a weapon to kill her.

Tentatively she raised the piece of meat to her lips parting them open and placing it on her tongue. A few bites later, she was still savoring the meat until she finally swallowed. The taste was familiar, it created a sense of longing in her as she tried to figure out what it was. It tasted somewhat like beef, but not fully developed. Almost like veal. Almost like…Y/n began to gag as her eyes widened in horror at what she had just eaten. Jimin began to laugh, “Oh come on. It’s not that bad.” She strongly disagreed, Y/n felt like clawing her throat out. There were certain lines even she wouldn’t dare to cross and yet, unknowingly, she had crossed one of them. Even her mother had never done something like this to her. Jimin walked towards her, his arm coiling tightly around her waist as he pulled her against him. “What you don’t like it?” Jimin teased Y/n, trying to elicit more of her fear. As he gathered more information on her. It wasn’t that she was unafraid, very clearly, she was, her disregard was towards others.

As Y/n tried to regain control over herself, and her queasy stomach, Jimin softly caressed her bruised jaw. Every time she winced, he would stop for a bit, but would continue nonetheless. Y/n didn’t know why she was still alive but being in a den filled with cannibals didn’t paint a hopeful picture. “Are you all…” She let the question trail off, hanging in the air. Jimin’s face became serious instantly, “Of course not. We’re not monsters. It’s just something we partake in time to time. Lessens the body count.” That made things worse somehow. Jimin twisted her around and pushed her onto the bed, giving her little time to readjust herself. There was a small window in the room, through which moonlight shone. Only the bed was illuminated so whilst Y/n was in the light, Jimin remained in the dark. “I’m going to shower, then we’ll go out.” She didn’t really have a response, so she just stayed quiet, he seemed fine with that. Jimin opened his bedroom door and walked out, it closed slowly behind him until he suddenly turned back. “Don’t leave the room. If you do, you’ll be dessert.”

Kang Haneul was resting on his couch looking over Y/n’s file the blue hue from the muted television being the only source of light in the living room. It did little to help his degrading vision, but he needed to go to bed. Having a lamp on would only keep him awake for much longer than he needed. Kang looked over his notes transcribed on sticky notes posted all over the manila folder. Sure, he technically wasn’t allowed to take a patient’s file out of his office, but Kang had viewed other older professional’s do it before. His eyes skimmed the news clippings dating back several years as his head began to slightly droop. Kang kept trying to resist the urge, but eventually he did fall victim to his body’s intentions and fell into a deep sleep. Quite convenient for, that is when Kim Namjoon managed to arrive to the apartment. His hands tinkering with the old locks until they gave way. Namjoon quietly stepped inside, sure to avoid the sections of the wood floor that he knew would creak. “Ah doctor Kang, you really should know better.” This wasn’t the first time Namjoon had witnessed the man passed out in his living room couch when he should’ve been in bed.

Still Namjoon hadn’t stopped by for a reunion or some quick small talk. As luck would have it, the purpose of his visit was sprawled on the doctor’s coffee table and lap. Namjoon quickly took pictures of everything he found, being amazed at just how much information there was. “I see your still up to your same old tricks, huh doctor?” Kang was still deep asleep and Namjoon took advantage to engrain the man’s face into his memory, it was the last time he would see him after all. “I’ll see you in hell, Kang.”

Jimin had whisked her away to a bar in a shady part of town. Y/n had been forced to go under threat of death, mutilation, and other things she didn’t want to dwell on. The bar was nearly desolate except for the staff and several drunk men scattered along booths. Jimin had his arm wrapped tightly around her waist as he walked them over to an empty booth in a corner. Insisting that Y/n sit beside him. Y/n cast a look around trying to make eye contact with anyone in the bar hoping they might help her, she soon realized the irony in that sentiment. Jimin pressed himself against her, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear. “Choose one.” Y/n turned to meet his eyes, “What?” Jimin redirected her vision to the inhabitants of the bar. “Choose someone for me to kill or I’ll kill you, simple as that.” Y/n didn’t know what to do. She knew what she should do: refuse Jimin or tell him to hurt her, that would be the right thing to do. But I don’t want to die. Y/n’s survival instinct was drilled deep into her mind at such a young age, that she didn’t know any other way. So, she slowly lifted her hand and pointed at an older man, passed out on the table with drool coming out of his mouth.

Jimin shook his head, “No. It has to be someone of equal value.” Y/n shook her head, her lip trembling. I don’t want to die. “I want someone that looks like you. A nice pretty girl that’s going to scream her guts out before I rip her to shreds.” Subconsciously, Y/n’s gaze landed on a young waitress serving the men. Her dark hair was tied into a messy bun and pulled away from her face, the harsh lines present on them might have fooled people into believing she was older. But it was her body that gave her away. Perhaps Y/n had lingered on her too long and that’s why Jimin had noticed. She hadn’t meant to single her out, Jimin had just been paying too close attention. “You do what you have to do to survive. No matter the consequence.” Jimin beckoned the waitress over, as she approached Jimin shot Y/n a cheeky smile. One that didn’t reach his eyes and was clearly meant as a warning.

“Hello, I’m Lana. Anything to start you guys off today?” Y/n didn’t bother looking at her, keeping her eyes on the table. “Sorry, but is your manager around? We’ve ran into some car trouble it won’t start.” The lie rolled so easily off his tongue. Jimin oozed charming out of his pores, couple that with his looks and it was a deadly combination. Quite literally. “Uh, my managers not in. But I don’t mind helping you out.” Bad decision. Hadn’t a bad decision brought her to being stuck with a serial killer and being an accomplice to murder. A sudden chill traveled through her spine, doctor kang’s words echoing through her head. “Society has no place for those who break the law or aid other’s in doing so. They’re monsters after.” Hadn’t Kang told her that she wasn’t one though? That she could be saved? Maybe if I help her get away… That idea was shot down immediately by a sudden flash back to her childhood. “Helping others only gets you hurt.” Y/n felt Jimin’s eyes on her. “Babe let’s go.” As if doing so automatically Y/n slid out of the booth, Jimin following suit.

“It’s here near the back. Didn’t want to risk it getting broken into.” Jimin commented as the three of them walked towards the back of the building. The waitress, Lana, simply nodded along to everything he said. Not finding it weird that the car was so far away, or that Y/n hadn’t spoken a word. “It’s a dangerous neighborhood. Have to be careful around strangers.” Lana responded, as she squinted her eyes to look ahead. “Which one is your car?” Lana asked, turning towards the two of you. Jimin didn’t even bother responding simply smiling before quickly grabbing a hold of her head, snapping her neck with a quick motion. Y/n watched Lana’s body fall to the ground, wanting desperately to feel something and only being more conflicted when she didn’t. “I was right.” Jimin spoke, turning to face her. “You don’t care.” Y/n gulped, her eyes being unable to look anywhere but Lana’s body. Not caring had made her an outcast amongst her friends and society. It had made them treat her like an outsider. But not caring had helped her survive.

Jimin stepped forward which caused Y/n to take a step back. The two continued this, until Y/n took off running. Trying to outrun him was impossible consider how tall and fast he was, but she did try. Y/n managed to travel quite a distance until Jimin grabbed her and stabbed her in the left lowermost part of her abdomen. He laughed with glee at the silent moan of pain she released. “Why are you trying to ruin my fun?!” A sob tore through her throat as tears began to stream down her face. Jimin held her tightly against him, no space between them. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Y/n repeated over and over again, until Jimin rolled his eyes and showed her the bloody knife. “Be quiet. Let’s go.” He took of his jacket and tied it tightly around her waist, apparently making a makeshift tourniquet. “If we don’t hurry home, you’ll bleed to death. Don’t want that now do we?”

When the two of them had returned to the warehouse Y/n’s skin color had faded to a pale white, her lips displaying the same color. Jimin had aided her along the way, mainly because dusk was settling and he didn’t want to be caught on the streets, but if it weren’t for him Y/n would’ve surely collapsed. As soon as the door opened, Y/n saw that all the men were gathered in the living room their aura’s deeply confrontational. It quickly dispersed when they laid eyes on her, “Sheesh Jimin. Couldn’t hold yourself back?” Laughed Yoongi, earning an intense glare from Jimin. Hoseok stood up and made his way towards them, only for Jimin to nearly snarl at him. “I’ve got her.” Hoseok backed up, his hands raised as if to show he meant no ill will. “Take her to the kitchen, I’ll be there soon.” Jin spoke. Even in her weakened state Y/n still processed his words, her eyes widening. Jimin smirked, “Don’t worry. You’re not on the menu. Not tonight at least.” He laughed quietly at his own joke, whilst all Y/n could do was take deep breaths and try to calm her breathing.

Jimin pushed open the kitchen door and hoisted Y/n up into his arms, before laying her on the metallic table in the center of the room. She was certain of her death now. As Jin had said he emerged a few minutes later with a first aid kit in hand. Jin was allowed to raise her shirt and analyze the wound, before disinfecting it and stitching it up. Once he was done, he cast a glare at Jimin. “She needs a blood transfusion.” Jimin merely rolled his eyes in response, “Can’t we just feed her some cress?” Y/n was barely conscious, but she still put all her energy in listening to the conversation. She would be damned if she passed out and was left as easy prey. “I could call one of our guys, though he might not have her blood type. What’s your blood type sweetie?” Y/n incoherently mumbled back her blood type. “If not, we’ll just find somebody off the street. Can’t be too hard.” Jimin shrugged, he thanked Jin and gathered Y/n into his arms once again.

As Jimin climbed up the stairs, a question kept surfacing in the back of Y/n’s mind. In her delirious state, she accidentally let it slip. “Why haven’t you killed me, yet?” Jimin didn’t look at her, simply kept on climbing the stairs until he reached the top. “Why don’t you care if others die around you?” Both questions had complicated answers, but neither of them wanted to elaborate on them.

When Y/n woke up the next morning, she had desired that everything which had occurred the previous night had been a nightmare. Perhaps she had gone to bed watching a crime drama, her mind conjuring up the evil images all on its own. Y/n knew it wasn’t true though, whenever she had nightmares it was always the same ones. Not to mention that she had accidentally rolled over onto her side and the wound began to throb painfully. Y/n pulled the sheets off her body and forced herself out of bed. Her attire wasn’t pleasant: a large hoodie and even larger sweats. But Jimin had explained in explicit detail what he would do to her, if she slept with dirty clothes on his clean bed. Not like he wasn’t wearing bloody clothes on them last night. Y/n opened the bedroom door, looking around to make sure no one was there. Go. Escape. Now. As carefully as she could, so as not to rip her stitches open, Y/n traveled down the stairs only to see the men sitting on the couch enjoying their day. Jungkook was the first to notice her and gave her a large smile, she automatically reciprocated one. The last thing she needed was to make any of them upset.

All of them, especially Jimin, terrified her. They all looked so normal. The picture of what a model citizen might look like, but Y/n had seen what they were capable of. Y/n didn’t know what to do so she remained in her place waiting for something to happen. Then it occurred, a knocking on the metal door. It was a soft rasp of sorts, not intimidating in any sense. Y/n began to feel a small twinge of hope. Could it be? Instead of two uniformed men standing outside the door, there were two women. One older and the other very young, both modestly dressed. “Can I help you ladies?” Hoseok spoke, a bright cheery smile on his face. Even from her position, Y/n could tell it had dazzled the women. “So sorry to interrupt you sir, but we were wondering if you would allow us to speak with you about the lord’s word?” Hoseok cast a glance towards the men on the seats. They all had abandoned their activities and were focused on the interaction. “I’m so sorry ladies, I am terribly busy. Unless…you wouldn’t mind coming in, would you? I have family over.” Both women exchanged a look before agreeing, “It’s no problem. The more the merrier I say.” Spoke the older one. Hoseok laughed along with her, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

It dawned on Y/n that Jimin was absent from the room. She looked around but found no trace of him whatsoever. Hoseok must’ve spotted her still standing as he motioned her over, “Y/n come sit.” It wasn’t a suggestion, even though his voice had been nothing but cheery. Y/n walked and sat between Namjoon and Jin, both men leaning back to rest their arms on the head. Another warning. “I’m sorry about her. She’s quite shy.” Hoseok told the two women, trying to pass off the obvious tension as a nuisance. “Oh I know, I have a daughter at home. It takes her an hour after she wakes up to speak to anyone.” The older woman laughed again, from the way Hoseok’s smile faltered Y/n could tell it was beginning to irk him.

“What are your names?” Namjoon asked, looking between them. Eyes wide with curiosity. “Uhm m-my name is M-mary and she’s C-crista.” The youngest, Mary, stuttered. “Don’t mind her. She stutters when she’s nervous.” Crista laughed, once again. “There’s no need to be nervous Crista.” Yoongi offered, he too was smiling. Y/n visibly tensed and tried to put as much distance between herself and the men as possible. “So, tell us about yourself.” Taehyung leaned forward eyes filled with a sadistic gleam. “Yes, what does our lord and savior say about redemption?” Jungkook followed up, a large bunny smile on his face.

Despite what one may believe, what even Y/n believed, the conversation between all of them went on for quite some time. Y/n barely uttered a word, only nodding occasionally so as not to draw suspicion. Discussing philosophical matters such as morality, sins, and death. The men were playing the long game and Y/n didn’t want to be there when it reached its conclusion. “Sorry,” Mary said speaking directly at her, “Can you please show me to the bathroom?” Seokjin nudged Y/n slightly as she stood up. All eyes trained on her as she guided Mary to the bathroom upstairs. Y/n thought this might be the one opportunity to warn Mary of what might happen, but how would they escape without drawing attention. I have to do it before Jimin gets back. As they climbed up the stairs Mary got close to her, “How did you get that bruise on your jaw?” Y/n had almost forgotten about that.

“Uhm…” Y/n didn’t know what say. What was the right choice? Should she tell her the truth or play it off? If she escapes, you might not be able to. Still, even if Y/n died that was still the right thing to do. To sacrifice herself for others, right? Don’t be stupid. Y/n strongly desired to one day be able to ignore the voice in her head and act out on her own. Maybe that day will be today. “Here.” They had reached the top floor and Y/n pointed towards the bathroom. Mary cast her a look, but simply went inside the bathroom locking the door. Y/n let out a heavy sigh she wasn’t aware she was holding in. “Smart move.” Y/n swore she had jumped at least a foot off the ground. She turned around to see Jungkook leaning on the stair’s railing. He stepped towards her, getting close enough that their chests brushed. “There’s no point in me wasting my breath to tell you the consequences should you choose to do something you shouldn’t.” Jungkook’s hand traveled to Y/n’s waist and his fingers pressed into the stitched wound. It took all her will power not to cry out in pain, but Jungkook still got off on the expression of her face. “Jimin-Hyung went through a lot for you, so don’t fuck him over.” Y/n hadn’t realized she had started crying until Jungkook wiped away at her tears, it was then that she heard the toilet flush and the faucet running.

Jungkook went back downstairs before Mary opened the door, making it seem like nothing had happened. When Mary opened the door, she was greeted by Y/n standing right in front of it. “Do you by any chance have a phone?” Mary seemed confused but nodded either way. Reaching into her front pocket to take out a rather small track phone. Y/n grasped her hand immediately looking around, “Don’t say anything.”

There was a loud rumbustious laughter coming from down stairs when they returned and Y/n found that one stood out among the rest. When she and Mary came back downstairs, she saw Jimin’s golden blonde hair bouncing as he laughed. They all seemed to be sharing an inside joke of some kind, Crista was wiping away the tears that had formed from cackling too hard. “Oh, you boys are something else.” Y/n traveled towards the back of the couch, not wanting to pass in front of any of them, while Mary returned to her spot. A deep frown nestled between her brows that she quickly removed before it was too noticeable. “Oh babe, you’re back.” A beautiful smile was plastered onto Jimin’s face as he turned around to see face Y/n, his hand reaching up to take hers. “Oh, are the two of you a couple?” Crista asked, shock on her face. Y/n didn’t blame her, Jimin looked like a model right now and well Y/n looked like she had been kidnapped and tortured by a bunch of lowkey cannibalistic psychopaths.

When Jimin’s hand wrapped tightly around hers, Y/n smiled back. “Y/n suffers from a lot of anxiety. Didn’t come from a good home, you know? So, she doesn’t do well around strangers.” Jin tone was casual, as if he was commenting on the weather and hadn’t just revealed that he knew about Y/n’s past. Y/n swore she felt her heart drop in that moment. There was nothing she could feel, but shock in that moment. How do they… Even though their attention wasn’t specifically on her, Y/n could tell all of them were gauging for her reaction. “Sometimes even when you want to cry, it’s better to stay quiet.” So, Y/n simply nodded and apologized to the women before her. “Sorry, I don’t mean to be rude.” Jimin didn’t seem satisfied with her response, for his nails dug deeply into her skin.

“Well, I’m sad to say but we must be leaving.” Crista began to stand up, waving Mary along. “Oh, what a shame. Can’t you stay any longer?” Hoseok pouted. Are they really going to let them leave? Maybe the men could control themselves. Like wild animals, once they had satiated their needs, they could be quite polite. “I’m afraid not. It’s gotten quite late, it’s dangerous to walk the streets alone at night.” The mood in the room had shifted, but it seems Crista had not picked up on it. Yoongi shrugged, “Not as dangerous as entering a stranger’s home and annoying them with your obnoxious laughter to the point where they want kill you.” The silence that had consumed the room, made it so that Y/n could practically hear your own pulse racing. Crista attempted to laugh it off, but she was clearly nervous. Mary was frozen in shock at what she had just heard. Slowly the men stood up and approached the women, purposely taking their time right before they attacked.

Jimin had made his way behind Y/n, his arms possessively wrapping around her figure as he rested his chin on her shoulder. “I have a gift for you.” She didn’t like the sound of that, “What is it?” Jimin smiled, he began to press kisses along her neck. “If you behave, you’ll find out.” The kiss he pressed against Y/n’s cheek was soft and sweet. It confused her. “Watch and don’t make a sound.” Then Jimin walked away, joining his brothers is in the massacre of the two women who had made the mistake of coming into their home. Y/n stood and watched, not moving, barely breathing when the bones began to break, screams resonated, and bodies were torn open in the most brutal ways. Almost feels like home.

“Joy have you managed to get in contact with Y/n? This is the second appointment she has missed.” Kang yelled out from his office, looking over his calendar. The last time he had seen Y/l/n Y/n had been on Wednesday, it was now Monday and she failed to show up again. Joy appeared on the threshold of his door, “I’ve tried Doctor Kang. She doesn’t answer her phone.” The doctor placed his head on his hands, he was frustrated. Kang was so close to finally cracking Y/n open, but of course she had to slip from his fingers. A thought popped into his head just then, “I’ll stop by her apartment. I need to make sure she’s alright.” Haneul Kang grabbed his phone from the top of the desk and slipped off his white coat. “Are you sure that’s alright, doctor? Wouldn’t it be better to notify the police?” Joy was concerned about Y/n’s wellbeing, but more so about the therapist’s sudden keen interest in his patient. When Y/n hadn’t shown up Friday the men’s mood had soured terribly, now he looked a bit deranged.

“Y/n has a bad history with the police. She’s extremely distrustful of them.” Kang was lying through his teeth, but there was no one there that knew any better, so it was fine. “If I don’t find her there, then we can call the police. Have a good evening, Joy.” He quickly placed his hand on the woman’s shoulder to ease her worries before marching out of the office. Y/n was never one to miss appointments. He might forgive her for missing one, but two in a row was far too many. Kang had a strange feeling in his stomach, one he’d possessed since he woke up Thursday morning on the living room couch. Everything looked perfect, but he could sense something was off. “Dear lord, please don’t let her have done anything stupid. Don’t let her be dead.”

Y/n slid the key into her apartment’s lock, twisting it before opening the door. Jimin stepped in before her, taking in everything. Y/n looked around before walking inside and closing the door. It wasn’t big by any means. All she possessed was a small kitchenette, a fridge, her bed, some seats, a bookshelf, and the bathroom which behind a door to the left. Jimin looked at her book collection, laughing to himself at some of the choices until his eyes landed on a specific book. “Isn’t this a bit cliché? Never thought my girlfriend would enjoy something like this.” His girlfriend, Y/n had gotten quite used to the word. Jimin called her that whenever he was in a good mood. “It’s in that box. Under the bed.” Y/n said pointing to an old orange shoe box whose edge poked out from underneath the covers. Jimin walked over to the bed crouching as he pulled the dusty box out from its hiding place. “Come here.” She moved instantly going to sit on the bed, beside where the box was placed. Jimin leaned in and kissed her, lips moving hungrily against hers.

Y/n tried to kiss him back but recoiled when she felt the familiar metallic taste on her tongue. “Ah.” Her bruised lips had suffered much under Jimin’s constant need to harshly kiss and bite them. Jimin smirked, before pulling her bottom lip into his mouth sucking on it. “Juh-jimin.” They were on a schedule, Namjoon had warned her if they weren’t back within an hour, he would personally track them down. “The box.” Jimin finally stopped kissing, his attention going back to the contents inside the box. Jimin pulled the lid off, carefully taking his time to look over everything; a small smile grazing his features when he found what he wanted. “You really are something Y/n.” Jimin looked like he had just won the lottery, while Y/n felt as if she had just given up all her life savings. As long as he’s happy I’m safe. “Is that everything Namjoon needs?” She asked, trying to avoid looking at the box as much as possible. Jimin closed it shut, “And so much more.” The smile didn’t reach his eyes and Y/n asked herself if it ever would. “I’m starting to think fate brought us together, babe.”

Y/n didn’t get a chance to respond, interrupted by the harsh rasping of knuckles on her door. Both Jimin and she stared at the door in shock. “Y/n? Y/n open the door. I must talk to you.” It’s doctor Kang. She felt the sudden change in Jimin’s attitude, his eyes became hooded and he stalked towards the door, his hand reaching into the back of his pants under his hoodie; where the gun was. Y/n raced towards him immediately stopping him. “What if he’s with cops?” She whispered harshly saying the first thing her mind could conjure up. Jimin stood still arm still reaching for the gun, he turned towards her slowly. “Stop me and I’ll put a bullet in your head.” Jimin’s dark eyes pierced into hers and dared her to disobey him, his eyes were practically begging her too. “Don’t.” Y/n stepped back, her body hitting the wall as Jimin moved forward to entrap her. She was shaking, her eyes darting everywhere trying to avoid making eye contact. Y/n’s gaze landed on the box on the bed and the weathered copy of Romeo and Juliet laying on the floor.

Jimin followed her line of sight, chuckling darkly when he saw what she was staring at. Jimin’s mouth wrapped around her neck, leaving open mouth kisses and hickies in its wake. “Look at me.” He mumbled against her skin. Jimin looked at her neck and upper chest area, it was scattered with his marks as well as bruises of all sorts. Jimin hadn’t taken long to mark her as his all over her body; he also never missed an opportunity to do it. When Y/n’s eyes met his, Jimin couldn’t help but preen with twisted glee. “So why is it in your bookshelf?” Jimin pressed, even if it might be a sensitive topic. “It was my mother’s.” Y/n had spoken so softly one might have struggled to hear her, unless they were as close as Jimin was. Jimin gently pecked her forehead, his face unreadable as he uttered a familiar phrase.

"These violent delights have violent ends and in their triumph die, like fire and powder, which as they kiss, consume.” Y/n remained silent, not knowing how to respond in a way that wouldn’t upset him. It was then that she saw the gun in his hand. The gun glinting in the light as it neared her. “What do you say, Y/n? Reckon we'll have a violent end." He uttered as he pressed the muzzle against her temple. Y/n simply shrugged, “I don’t know. We might.” Jimin pulled the safety back, before taking away from her temple and instead pointing it at her heart. “Don’t worry. We’re not near the ending yet.” He spoke, his eye dropping into a wink.

Kang Haneul pulled up to the shady looking warehouse, he tried to see if there was any police officers around. He doubted it. This was such a bad neighborhood most law enforcement turned a blind eye for the sake of not having to do unnecessary paper work. Kang had been pounding on Y/n’s apartment door when he received a text from Kim Namjoon – a man he hoped to never see again. Kang strolled towards the large metal doors, trying the lock before knocking. It was unlocked by some miracle. Kang slowly pushed the door open, peering inside to make sure no one was around. It seems the doctor wasn’t the best at sneaking in for he didn’t notice Taehyung standing behind the door, gun ready to shoot. The second Kang stepped foot inside Taehyung tackled him to the ground and hit him across the head with the back of the gun. Knocking him unconscious immediately. “Far too easy.”

“Don’t waste any time Tae. Jimin will get here soon.” Namjoon spoke as he emerged from upstairs. Taehyung nodded and proceeded to lift Kang up into his arms, taking him into the kitchen were the others were waiting. “Namjoon. Jimin might not like this.” Jin had been standing by the stairs watching everything. He couldn’t help the bad feeling growing in his stomach, “He’s grown quite attached to her after all.” Namjoon rolled his eyes scoffing, “Jimin is bored and playing the long game. Do you really think he won’t kill her? At least this way her death will serve a purpose.” Jin simply walked away, deciding it best not to pick a fight with Namjoon when he was clearly riled up.

“Everything will go according to plan. Nothing will stop me.”

Jimin had identified that something was wrong rather quickly. There were more patrols on the street than usual, the streets were empty, and no one had answered the phone. Y/n kept her head down staring at her lap while Jimin drove. They had taken longer than expected, but he had shot a quick text to Namjoon so that he wouldn’t bitch when they arrived. It wasn’t that Jimin couldn’t control himself around her – rather he didn’t want to. His hypothesis was proven correct when he saw the black convertible parked in front of the warehouse. “Y/n?” She raised her head to look at him, as Jimin simply focused on the car. His grip on the steering wheel getting tighter by the second. “When we go inside, I want you to behave.” Y/n’s brows furrowed, but she nodded either way noticing how white his fingertips had gotten. “I will.” Both of them stepped out of the vehicle heading for the front door, Jimin was wearing a smile on his face as he interlocked their hands. Not bothering to knock, Jimin fisted the key out of his pocket and opened the door. Acting as if he hadn’t noticed that it was unlocked. He turned toward Y/n flashing her a brief smile. “Ready?” Jimin doubted she was, but he was so amped for what would happen. He felt like a kid on Christmas only instead of tearing wrapping paper, Jimin was about to tore skulls open.

When Y/n came to she was laying on the concrete floor of the warehouse. She could feel blood coming from her head and couldn’t move her arm. Looking around she saw several bodies sprawled around the floor, she recognized every one of them. “J-j…” Y/n tried to speak, but it was difficult. “Get up! Come on!” Y/n used her left arm to push herself off the ground, her head pounding when she did. When she tried to use her right arm, a searing pain had her biting her lip in order not to scream. This is it. With all the will power she could muster, she forced herself onto her feet stumbling slightly every time she took a step. Y/n couldn’t tell if it was the room that was tilting or she was, but she grasped onto every solid object she could to stabilize herself. “Y/n.” She whipped her head to see doctor Kang on the floor several gun shot wounds littered his chest as he bled to death. “Y/n thank god you’re alright.”

Y/n stepped towards him. “You can drop the act doctor Kang. I know why you were treating me.” The man’s eyes widened at her words. “Y/n please understand. I never meant to do you any harm. J-just like I never meant to do Namjoon or the others any harm.” Y/n shook her head, scoffing. “I don’t believe you.” She clutched her arm as her dead brother’s voice echoed in her head once again. “People will always lie to protect themselves. You should do the same.” Kang looked at her with tears in his eyes, “I truly did wish to help you Y/n. You aren’t past saving like they are. Woojin knew that.” Her heart skipped a beat at her brother’s name. Tears began to well in her eyes at his mention, “Stop lying.” Y/n refused to listen to his words, he had lied to her and tried to use her. Just like everyone else. Footsteps could be heard echoing through the warehouse, coming closer. Kang sobbed, “Please save yourself.” In his hand he held out an object, willing her to take it. “Please Y/n.”

Jimin appeared his clothes drenched in blood and a grin showing his pearly whites on display. Resembling the night they had first met Y/n was crouched behind the couch when he entered the living room. “There you are.” He said, as if he had been looking for her the entire time. Jimin sauntered towards her, hoisting her up into his arms and kissing her ardently. “Babe you missed quite a show.” Y/n observed at how much blood was present on his clothes and the decaying bodies laying around. He really killed them all…I don’t believe it. “Jimin what’s – ” He shushed her, “Don’t ruin the mood.” Y/n stayed quiet after that which seemed to please him greatly as he once again smiled. After a few seconds, she moved forward to kiss him letting her lips touch his for several seconds before beginning to move them. Though she expected Jimin to try and take control, he didn’t, simply letting her kiss him. It was a goodbye of sorts. When their kiss ended Jimin chuckled, an inquisitive look in his eyes. When she kissed him again, he looked calm. After the third, he smiled this time it reached his eyes.

“Why do you have to go ahead and ruin my fun?” Jimin spoke, his head tilting to the side as he stared deeply at her. Y/n couldn’t answer him. Didn’t want to. Jimin began to laugh, it was a sad laugh but Jimin quickly turned it into a maniacal laugh. “Oh Y/n…Y/n. Did you finally begin to care?” She nodded, tears streaming down her face. Jimin pressed his forehead against her’s, their noses brushing. "These violent delights have violent ends and in their triumph die, like fire and powder, which as they kiss, consume. What do you say, Y/n? Reckon we'll have a violent end." He maniacally grinned as he pressed the metallic point of the gun against Y/n’s bleeding temple, the raw brass stinging against the open wound. "I don't know. We might." She muttered back. The gun was lifted from the side of her head before Jimin pressed it against her heart. “You won’t want me if you’re not broken.” Jimin muttered. Y/n couldn’t help but laugh, “I never wanted you in the first place.” Jimin pulled the safety off the gun, at the same time that Y/n reached behind her back for what she had grabbed from Kang. The knife plunged into Jimin’s heart the same time, the gun went off.

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tvdversefanfiction · 4 years

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Origins of Magic

“The Originals” Fanfiction Series

Warnings: I do not own the rights to the television series “The Originals”, “Vampire Diaries”, or “Legacies” and do not own any of the characters within the TVD universe, I am making no profit from this and have no intention for this fanfiction series except for readers to enjoy.

15+ Mild to Strong Violence, Strong Language, Witchcraft, sexual scenes, and sexual references.

F/F, F/M, M/M, Other.

CHAPTER TWO HERE

Chapter Three – The Castle in the Woods

MANY YEARS AGO…in what feels like several lifetimes ago for Kayne Black, he found himself stuck within a castle him and his sisters had taken over in their hopes of making it their home, having had to leave their homeland due to a falling out with their brother Magnus. Although, this damp, cold and dark castle in the middle of nowhere felt like anything but home for Kayne. He loved his homeland, he wanted to stay there and continue to live the life he had loved but after what Kayne and his sisters did to take their brother Magnus out of the picture they had no choice but to flee, taking on different identities as they did and live a life Kayne referred to as luxury to live in the middle of nowhere, in a damp, cold and dark castle until the day the world forgot him and his sisters ever existed. Kayne loathed the existence he was forced to endure and blamed his older sister Annabella for his and Primrose’s misfortunes and as the years went by in this lost castle his hatred towards her only grew until one day, decades after their disappearances, the three siblings were greeted by guests, a family of guests to be precise, the Mikaelson’s. The brief time in which the Mikaelson siblings; Niklaus, Rebekah, Elijah and Kol stayed with Kayne and his sisters changed everything for the male witch, as he began to love the fact that they were all alone in the world, specifically he loved the idea of himself being completely alone with Niklaus, a man he quickly found himself becoming infatuated with Klaus. “Tell me what exactly brings a man to the middle of nowhere with his siblings?” Kayne asked Klaus after walking into Klaus’ room within the castle, a room not far from his which he had strategically picked out for his guest. “I could ask the same to you, but I doubt you would give me an honest answer and I can promise you I would not give you honesty either.” Klaus answered him with a wicked smile on his face. “You are clearly running from something or someone if you’ve taken to these dangerous woods in hopes of seeking refuge, it is just a case of what that remains to be seen but do not worry Niklaus I do quite enjoy a mystery.” Kayne replied with a sinister smirk to match Klaus’. “And you, why are you here?” Klaus asked the male witch, eager to deflect Kayne’s questions. “Believe it or not but I am waiting for the world to forget me so I can start anew and hopefully I will never again have to hide away.” Kayne answered honestly. “I do not seek out questions as leverage, I seek out you because you fascinate and nothing in this whole world has ever fascinated me until now.” “I would be careful about getting too fascinated with me it never ends well for anyone involved.” Klaus warned him, trying to mask the fact he was equally fascinated by the young male witch in front of him. “I look forward to being the one to defy the odds,” Kayne said in a flirtatious manner, making it clear to Klaus he wanted him.

Primrose Black had always loved nature and being in the woods that was until being in the woods was where she always was trapped within a castle she loved but learned to loathe the surroundings that came with the property. The castle was a thing of beauty, a work of art, made to be appreciated and Rose did just that, however she was growing tired of being stuck away from the rest of the world with no form of entertainment and the only companionship being her forever warring siblings Annabella and Kayne and even when they were not fighting they were far from her ideal company. She deemed her sister too practical and dull to have fun with and she had found her brother too whiny which only made their entrapment within the woods away from the real world even more torturous for the youngest sibling until she found the perfect companion in one of the castle’s new guests, the guest in question being none other than Kol Mikaelson. “So, what exactly is a girl like you hiding a way in a castle?” Kol asked Rose as he let himself into her room to find her on the edge of her bed reading a book. “If you are trying to flirt, I am far from interested,” Rose replied before closing her book and placing onto her bed. “Well maybe just some fondling but only because it has been so long and I’m up for any source of amusement right.” “I will take you up on that offer soon do not worry but right now I seek company as I plan to go to a nearby village and seek whatever delights it may offer.” Kol informed her. “My sister would not be happy if I left my prison, however, it has been a long time and you look like the opposite of a perfect gentleman, so I am highly considering obliging.” Rose told him, trying to work out whether to break her sister’s rules. “How long have you been here for exactly?” Kol wondered, intrigued by why such a beautiful woman would be hiding away in the middle of nowhere. “I am not invested in you enough to share my story nor do I care about yours, however, you seem like you may amuse me and I am so tired of being bored.” Rose answered the original male vampire. “I will challenge you to create as much debauchery as possible, I am very intrigued to see if you can keep up with me!” “Something tells me I am going to like you!” Kol replied with a genuine sense of excitement for what awaited the original vampire and the bewitching beauty.

NEVER EVER…did Annabella Black ever think that after years of solitude with her sister Primrose and their brother Kayne that she would be the first one to break the rules of which all three siblings had lived by since coming to the castle in the woods. Bella loved the home her and her siblings had come to known, she love the wild and often brutal woods that was her garden, the castle which had become a home and the peace she would only hear when her siblings were fast asleep. The only thing Bella did not enjoy about living in the castle in the woods was having to share her home with her two younger siblings who did not only refuse to appreciate the extents she had gone to ensure their safety but continued to complain repeatedly about the decisions they made together as well as both of them blaming her solely for every little bad thing that had ever happened to them all. Bella had no choice but to remain hidden with her siblings knowing they would have to stay in that castle with no other visitors for a very long time, long enough for the world to forgot they either existed and Bella followed the rules she created with an iron fist determined to protect her family at any cost, until she found herself lovestruck upon first sight of the undeniable beauty that was Rebekah Mikaelson. “If my brothers have not yet offered their many thanks for granting us shelter then please allow me to be the first.” Rebekah thanked Bella after walking into the library to find the witch putting books away into their rightful places within the large display of bookcases within the beautifully gothic library within the castle. “Your eldest brother was very grateful, and it was appreciated the same regards go to you.” Bella said as she placed the last book away, before turning to give the female Mikaelson all her attention. “I know you are not human, I sensed it the moment I opened the door to you and your siblings…I also know you are not a werewolf because I have known many in my lifetime but I cannot fathom as to what you are…nor do I care…just know that whatever you and your brothers need refuge from I am more than happy to help.” “Such kindness,” Rebekah replied with a soft smile that Bella could not help but get lost within. “It has been a while since I’ve seen kindness from anyone other than my brother Elijah, but it is not quite the same as having a friend.” “I understand that feeling all too well being held up in this castle with only my constantly angry brother and my deceitful sister as company, I can honestly say kindness is a rare thing around here.” Bella admitted the original female vampire. “Well I guess we can gather together while my brothers and I remain here to complain about our blood ties and seek refuge in each other’s company.” Rebekah suggested, happy to have made a friend after feeling alone for quite some time. If only either Black or Mikaelson knew how this unexpected meeting between two families would go from a cosmic connection between witches and vampires to a grizzly end that would spark centuries of ill will between them all.

Klaus Mikaelson was a talented, complicated and beautiful man and Kayne Black enjoyed every moment he spent with the original male vampire/werewolf hybrid over the course of the weeks him and his family spent within the castle, as the male witch found himself quickly falling head over heels for the mysterious man who both thrilled him and made him feel safe in his touch. They spent every waking hour together talking endlessly into the night, making passionate love with each other and on the rare moments when inspiration hit Klaus, Kayne would watch as he painted onto a blank canvas, watching Klaus lose himself within his art and at the same time Kayne losing himself in the art that was the man he loved. Kayne Black had never dreamed of ever getting this close to another person but upon meeting Klaus Mikaelson he knew something was different about him and before the witch knew it he was besotted with the hybrid, sharing everything with him, including his blood. The only problem this witch and vampire has was although Kayne was all in, ready to be with his true love for all eternity he knew Klaus was holding back from giving the witch his all, whether it be his own paranoia or the secrets of the past which still weighed heavy on him, Kayne knew they could never truly be happy until Klaus let him all the way in. “What do you mean you are leaving? Where are you going to go?” Kayne asked as he and Klaus stood in Kayne’s bedroom, a room which had become theirs in recent weeks. “It is what my siblings and I do, we keep moving onto the next place because if we stop for too long well…it gets rather unfortunate for all involved.” Klaus revealed to him, shocking the witch by his sudden plans to departure. “Then I will go with you, I am tired of this bloody castle anyway and I want to go with you…I would go anywhere with you!” Kayne offered himself to the hybrid, eager for Klaus to accept his offer. “That is the thing love,” Klaus replied as he placed his hand softly onto Kayne’s face, stroking it briefly. “I do not want you to come with me!” “You cannot be serious Niklaus,” Kayne snapped, as he brushed Klaus’ hand away from his face. “I love you, I love you with all my heart, I love you more than I ever thought possible and I know you feel the same for me too, I know it!” “It’s only been a few weeks and yes we have both had fun, but I never claimed to love you.” Klaus said with a cruel laugh, knowing fine well his words were breaking Kayne’s heart. “Nor do I claim to love you now.” “I see,” Kayne struggled to say with his voice beginning to break, as tears formed in his eyes, completely devastated by Klaus’ rejection of his love. “I did warn you that people tend to get hurt around me, do not say I did not warn you!” Klaus told Kayne, brushing off the tears the witch cried for him. “You sure did!” Kayne admitted, as he attempted to wipe the tears from his eyes, attempting and failing to hide the pain that Klaus had just inflicted on him.

“Mikael?” Rose said out loud as she and Kol laid down on the floor within the library side by side, both looking rather comfortable with each other. “I just cannot believe a foursome with such power is running from a man named Mikael it is hardly the name of a great hunter…no offense to the father who intends to kill you all…I am sure he has his reasons.” “Oh, I am sure going to miss you Primrose, you have been the first bit of fun I have experienced since becoming what I am now.” Kol admitted to his bewitching friend. “Draining bar wenches and ending tavern brawls with a bloody feast will just not be the same without you by my side to soak in all the debauchery and challenge me to be even more wicked than I thought possible.” “You are the only thing in this world that does not bore me it will be a shame to see you go but who knows we may meet again,” Rose replied to her vampire companion. “I intend to leave this place soon myself, you have shown me the chaos that awaits me out there and I have grown tired of hiding…I wish I could break you free from your chains, if only you would let me take down Niklaus…” “Oh I fully intend to return the favour to my bastard brother for daggering his siblings as he sees fit but I need to be tactical about it or I will wind up with a dagger in my chest with no chance of being woken up before the next century.” Kol confided in Primrose, like he had done many times throughout the weeks he and his siblings stayed within the castle. “I understand when it comes to betraying brothers it is best to keep it a family affair instead of bringing in the outsiders,” Rose responded to the Mikaelson sibling she had considered her only true friend. “Besides, I already got rid of one brother and that proved to be rather bothersome, however, my offer still stands if you change your mind.” “So, where are you going to go? I would love the choice of choosing where my siblings and I will go next, but my opinion will only ever be met with finding myself in a coffin.” Kol wondered, eager to live through his friend’s plans, plans he knew he could never make for himself.” “As far away from my siblings as possible!” Rose revealed to him, as the two shared a knowing smile, one which revealed to the other that they both knew they would unlikely ever see each other again.

Rebekah Mikaelson had given in too love many times in her life but there was one time when the girl who often was considered too easy to fall in love made a choice with her head instead of her heart and it was a choice she would forever regret. The one time in question when Rebekah chose not to put love before all else was when her brothers planned to leave the castle and the Black siblings behind, choosing not to attempt to live a life with the witch Annabella Black who she had found herself falling in love, knowing Klaus would more than likely kill Bella if she tried and dagger her in the process. The original female vampire wanted nothing more to have her happy ending and she believed she could have it with Bella, a belief that only grew as the weeks went by in the castle in the woods but eventually reality hit Rebekah hard and as her and her brothers prepared to leave she knew she had to let this love go. “I do not understand why you have to go Rebekah; you are safe here from whatever you are running from you are safe with me.” Bella pleaded with the female vampire. “It is not as simple as that my brothers Niklaus and Elijah believe if we stay put we would only be putting ourselves and you and your siblings in danger and I cannot have anymore deaths because of me.” Rebekah explained to her bewitching lover. “If I do not go with them then Niklaus will seek out revenge on me by hurting you and I cannot have that Annabella because I love you!” “Then stay with me and we will stand tall against him…together, he cannot hurt us if we stay together.” Bella attempted to persuade the woman she loved, desperate for her to stay. “You do not understand neither Klaus nor I can die but you can!” Rebekah warned her, knowing all too well Klaus would not hesitate to kill someone she loved, as he had done before. “I have loved and lost before, and I do not want to have to watch somebody else suffer because of their feelings towards me.” “Then we will run, and we will keep running so that Klaus will never find us.” Bella argued with Rebekah. “He would find us, and I cannot risk it,” Rebekah cried. “I cannot be the reason for your death so please do not try to make me say otherwise because this is my choice and I refuse to change it!” Rebekah loved Bella far too greatly to be swayed in her decision, refusing for the bewitching beauty to suffer the same fate as her previous love Alexander although admittedly the hunter Alexander deserved his fate, she knew Bella did not and was determined to not have to see Klaus kill another person she loved, not knowing then that although Bella would escape Klaus’ wrath many of her future loves would not.

Centuries later…the three Black siblings; Kayne, Bella and Rose stood within the streets of New Orleans in the French Quarter all looking at each other in shock while remaining to hold each other’s hands as a unconscious Rebekah lay unconscious beneath their feet within a circle they had created with their hands. “There is definitely no going back now!” Rose stated with a devilish grin on her face, excited for what lay ahead like only she would be. “Klaus and Elijah are once again amongst the living…let the games begin!”

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