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hollandorks · 2 years

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shadows in the night

battinson!bruce wayne x f!reader

chapter fifteen

summary: more than a year after the events of middle of the night, y/n and Bruce are happily engaged and working to lower the amount of crime in Gotham. However, a new killer calling himself the Riddler has other plans for their happiness…set during the events of the movie, mostly canonical, some changes made to fit the story

a/n: so sorry this took extra long to get uploaded! I was really unhappy with my first draft of the chapter and took some extra time to work on it, then the day I planned to post I had to go to the dentist for a gum infection and ended up scheduling to have my wisdom teeth removed. Yikes. The good news is, I’ll be trying to write tons and finish this and at least have the rest of the story written before surgery in about a month!

word count: 3316

Y/n sank into a crouch, biting back a sob, as she watched the Gotham Project go up in flames.

Within a minute, Ollie was there, and then so was Bryn, and they held her and cried with her as all of their passion and hard work burned.

Y/n watched, numb, as months of hard work turned to ash.

She was certain the fire had been set on purpose. She’d checked and rechecked everything before they’d opened, had every certification on the planet that deemed the building safe, and even then Bruce had hired someone else for a second opinion.

There was no way it had burned down by accident, right? Maybe there had been lightning or something but–it was barely raining.

The numbness spread through the rest of her as she watched the last of the flames disappear into plumes of smoke.

“Shit,” Ollie said next to her, the first word any of them had spoken in a while. “This sucks.”

“Yeah,” y/n said, voice rough from the combination of exhaustion and smoke.

It had been so much work to get it started. Endless planning and paperwork and interviews. She had spent hours working every day as the space had been renovated. Hell, she’d even helped build things wherever the contractors would let her. She’d painted and sanded and hammered and hauled in furniture. She’d spent time doing interviews to get the word out, then interviewing potential staff. She’d spent hours figuring out how to order the things they needed and then ordering again when they inevitably ran out. She’d cooked and cleaned for weeks after they’d opened until she had enough employees.

It had been a passion project she hadn’t known she’d wanted. A project she hadn’t known she needed. Working on it had gotten her through a lot of the residual stress and trauma from almost dying the year before. How many nights had she woken from nightmares and gotten up to do paperwork so she wouldn’t wake Bruce? How many hours had she spent in the abandoned subway station working while he was out in the city? How many times did she go help people when she was feeling particularly small and insignificant?

The work creating and then running the Gotham Project had given her a purpose when she’d had none. It was even what had started her going out into the city like Bruce did–because she could always be doing more for the city.

And there it was, all of those hours, her literal blood, sweat, and tears–all just gone.

Y/n’s phone started ringing sometime around when they finally got the fire put out. She wasn’t sure the smell of smoke would ever come out of her skin. The air was thick with it.

“Shit,” she said when she saw the number. She wiped her eyes and glanced at Bryn and Ollie as they stared curiously at her. “It’s the hospital.”

She stood from the curb where the three of them had been seated, and answered the call.

“Hi, I’m so sorry for the late call. I’m calling on behalf of Mr. Pennyworth. He regained consciousness and was asking for Mr. Wayne, but we couldn’t get ahold of him. Your phone number was listed to call in case we couldn’t reach Mr. Wayne.” The woman’s voice was too perky for it being the middle of the night, y/n thought vaguely.

Then her words sunk in. Alfred was awake. “No, yeah, thank you for calling. Thanks for letting me know. Can we–can we visit?” She hastily wiped at her eyes again. Finally, some good news.

“Yes, of course. Visiting hours are technically over, but…since he’s only just now awake…” The woman’s voice softened. “I’m sure it will be fine.”

Y/n thanked her again and hung up.

Alfred was awake.

She cursed again. There was still so much to do with the Gotham Project–or what was left of it. She’d had to fill out an incident report and was informed that, as soon as it was safe, the investigators had to go inside and see if they could find a cause. Then and only then would she be able to go inside and see what was left.

“What is it?” Bryn asked softly. She pushed one hand on Ollie’s shoulder to help herself stand. Ollie grumbled and yanked on her arm in turn as he stood, too.

“Alfred’s awake. I–I have to–”

“Go,” Ollie said as he made a shooing motion with his hand. “We’ll take care of things here and call you if there’s anything else they need. And when they let us in I’ll document everything for you. Go be with your family.”

“Yeah, we’ve got this,” Bryn said. She squeezed y/n’s hand. “Go.”

Y/n went, calling Bruce as she did. She had no idea what he was doing, if he’d ever made it home from meeting Falcone.

He answered almost immediately. “I got the voicemail from the hospital,” he said instead of a hello. “And your voicemail about the Gotham Project. Is everything okay?”

“No,” she said truthfully. Her voice broke on the word. “It’s…gone. But–I’ll meet you at the hospital, okay?”

“See you there,” Bruce murmured. He hung up without another word.

At the hospital, she eagerly grabbed Bruce’s hand when she saw him at the reception desk. She had no idea how he’d beaten her there, but she didn’t care. Something within her settled slightly the moment she felt his fingers lace with hers. His hands were freezing. She wrapped both her hands around one of his for a moment to try and warm it.

“Mr. Pennyworth is resting again,” the doctor informed them when they made it to Alfred’s room. “Feel free to go in and wait, though. His condition looks much more stable and I think surgery might not be necessary either. We’ll know more tomorrow.”

Y/n let out a trembling breath, relieved. “That’s great news, thank you, doctor.”

She and Bruce went and sat beside Alfred’s bed.

“How’d the…visit with Falcone go?” she asked softly, afraid of waking Alfred up.

Bruce shrugged.

“That great, then?” she said, eyebrows raised. There was tension radiating off of him in waves. Her half-hearted joke didn’t seem to even register with him.

“I…have to talk to Alfred about it first,” Bruce murmured. “I don’t…know what to think.”

Y/n could see him pulling away from her as easily as if he were actually walking away. He was withdrawing into himself, shoulders curved, jaw tight. It was as if there was an ocean between them all of a sudden, the waters churning in a storm, uncrossable. She didn’t know how to reach him or how to make it better. She wasn’t sure she could make it better, not with the state of her own mind.

“What happened at the Gotham Project?” Bruce asked after a moment. He hadn’t taken his eyes off of Alfred since the moment they’d stepped inside the room.

“I’m not sure yet,” she said. She rubbed at her face. Her clothes smelled like smoke. Her body knew it hadn’t slept in much too long. Her muscles ached from the explosion and then sitting for so long on the curb outside the restaurant. She wanted to sleep. She wanted all of this to be over. “They’d just finished putting it out when I left. Then the investigators were going to go in and see what caused it. Bryn and Ollie stayed there, they said they’d call.”

Finally, Bruce looked at her, but there was a flatness in his eyes that made her unbearably sad. “We’ll rebuild,” he swore softly. “As fast as the city lets us.”

She gave him a watery smile. “I know,” she said. “But I just–it took so much work to get it started before…”

She sighed and rubbed at her eyes again. She stood. “I’m going to go get some coffee. Want anything?”

Bruce shook his head and looked back to Alfred.

She gently squeezed his shoulder and set off in search of caffeine.

When she came back, coffee cup clutched in her hands like a lifeline, she heard Bruce say, “You lied to me.”

Something made her stop outside of the door and wait. This was a private moment between him and Alfred, and she didn’t need to be a part of it.

But she also didn’t want to walk away. Bruce was drawing away from her, and she might not otherwise be able to hear about what happened with Falcone. She knew he would do his best to keep it to himself, to keep his pain to himself. He always did. Whether it was to protect her or to protect himself, she didn’t know.

“My whole life,” Bruce continued, voice barely above a whisper. Y/n leaned against the doorframe just out of sight in order to hear better. “I spoke to Carmine Falcone. He told me what he did for my father. About Salvatore Maroni.”

Y/n closed her eyes. So the Riddler had been right.

“He told you Salvatore Maroni…” Alfred started, voice uncertain.

“Had my father killed,” Bruce said. Y/n had to bite her tongue to hold in the gasp. No wonder Bruce was so withdrawn. “Why didn’t you tell me all this? All these years I’ve spent fighting for him, believing that he was a good man.” Bruce’s voice shook with anger.

“He was a good man,” Alfred said in a growl. “You listen to me. Your father was a good man. He made a mistake.”

“A ‘mistake’?” Bruce scoffed. “He had a man killed. Why? To protect his family image? His political aspirations?”

Y/n didn’t want to hear anymore of the pain in Bruce’s voice, but she couldn’t move away.

“It wasn’t to protect the family image, and he didn’t have anyone killed. He was protecting your mother. He didn’t care about his image or the campaign, any of that. He cared about her, and you, and in a moment of weakness, he turned to Falcone. But he never thought Falcone would kill that man. Your father should have known that Falcone would do anything to finally have something on him that he could use. That’s who Falcone is. And that was your father’s mistake. But when Falcone told him what he’d done, your father was distraught. He told Falcone he was going to the police, that he would confess everything. And that night, your father and your mother were killed.”

She fumbled for the seat in the hallway at Alfred’s words. It made a terrible sort of sense, didn’t it? When confronted by Bruce, Falcone blamed Maroni–who was already out of the way–and took the suspicion off of himself.

“It was Falcone?” Bruce said softly after a beat. She ached to go in and comfort him, but this was between him and Alfred. She hadn’t known the Waynes, she hadn’t been around twenty years ago, so she shouldn’t insert herself into it. But she wished, more than anything, that she could take just a little bit of Bruce’s pain away.

“Oh, I wish I knew for sure,” Alfred said, voice just as soft. “Or maybe it was some random thug on the street who needed money, got scared, and pulled the trigger too fast. If you don’t think I’ve spent every day searching for that answer–” Alfred stopped, the pain in his voice all too apparent. “It was my job to protect them. Do you understand? I know you always blamed yourself. You were only a boy, Bruce. I could see the fear in your eyes, but I didn’t know how to help. I could teach you how to fight, but I wasn’t equipped to take care of you. You needed a father. And all you had was me. I’m sorry.” The last two words were barely a whisper, almost lost in the noise of the hospital.

Y/n wiped at the tears that were falling. Alfred and Bruce had both gone through so much. And they were still going through it. Was it better for them to have answers now, after all this time? Or was the Riddler simply stirring up shit that should have been left untouched? Because the pain she knew both of the men inside the room were feeling was too much, on top of everything else, for them to bear.

And the Riddler had caused it.

The Riddler, and probably Falcone.

Y/n wished they were both dead. Hell, maybe they’d kill each other for some reason, and she and Bruce could be left out of it. It was wishful thinking, but it helped her feel better.

“Don’t be sorry, Alfred,” Bruce was saying as y/n sipped on her coffee to ground herself from her anger and heartache. “God. I never thought I’d feel fear like that again. I thought I’d mastered all that. I mean, I’m not afraid to die.” Y/n couldn’t help the small gasp at the words, chest aching, even as Bruce continued, “I realize now there’s something I haven’t got past. This fear of ever going through any of that again. Of losing somebody I care about. Last year with the gala–” Bruce cleared his throat slightly. “And now, with all of this…”

There was a rustle, like Alfred shifting. “I–is y/n alright? I never asked.”

“She’s fine. She went to get a coffee. I…Alfred, I’m sorry.” Bruce’s voice broke, just slightly.

“Don’t be sorry, I’m just glad you weren’t home. And I’m glad y/n is okay.”

Bruce sighed, cleared his throat. “I know, but–I need to tell you something. I…when I saw it was you, my first thought was ‘thank God it wasn’t her.’ I–”

Y/n had to wipe more tears away.

“My dear boy,” Alfred said softly. “I’m glad it wasn’t her, too. Don’t feel guilty for having that thought. I’m getting to be an old man, and I would gladly die in her place. Or yours. You still have so much of your life ahead of you.”

“Don’t say that,” Bruce snapped, but there was no real fire in it. “I don’t want to lose either of you, ever.”

Y/n figured it was time to go inside. She stood, composing herself, and gently pushed open the door.

“Alfred! You’re awake!” She didn’t have to feign her enthusiasm, even though she knew for a fact he’d been awake for the past several minutes. She paused at the foot of the bed, noticing that he and Bruce were clasping each other’s hands. She almost cried again at the sight. She set her coffee down on the tray to lean over and gently kiss Alfred’s cheek. “I knew your head was hard enough to survive an explosion,” she joked as she straightened, earning her a raspy chuckle.

“Yes, well, it certainly feels like I’ve been blown up.”

Y/n stood beside Bruce and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, squeezing gently. Maybe now they could go home and sleep some. Alfred was okay. He was awake. And he’d had a heart-to-heart with Bruce that had sounded much needed.

“We should–” she said, but stopped when she saw Bruce and Alfred both looking towards the skylight in the room.

Batman’s signal shone through the dark.

Y/n’s phone started ringing.

“Motherfucker,” she muttered, glaring up at the signal, then down at Bruce. “I’m going with you, and you aren’t arguing,” she said as she answered her phone.

It was Bryn. “Y/n–”

“Is everything okay?” she asked, because at this point she was assuming it was bad news.

She wasn’t wrong.

“They said it was most likely arson. And…” Bryn hesitated. There was a fierce, whispered conversation she couldn’t make out. Ollie, most likely.

“What aren’t you telling me?”

“They found something painted on the bricks on the back wall outside. The one thing that didn’t burn.”

“Just tell her!” Ollie said in the background.

Bryn sighed. “It said ‘rat’ in red paint.”

Y/n blew out a breath. “Yeah, well, it was only a matter of time,” she said a bit bitterly.

“Y/n…” Bryn said. “This is serious. Arson? Vandalism? You–”

“Did you see the news earlier tonight? What the Riddler told everyone I did? It was only a matter of time. Send me pictures of everything, I’ll have to take care of stuff later.”

“You can’t just–” Bryn started.

Y/n interrupted, “I have to go. Thank you. You guys get some sleep, okay?”

She hung up and found Bruce standing and watching her. Alfred’s eyebrows were raised underneath the bandages on his head.

“Um. The Gotham Project was burned down earlier,” she said for Alfred’s benefit. She winced.

“What?”

“Bryn just called. The investigators said it was arson, and someone painted the word ‘rat’ on the bricks, too.” She sighed and rubbed her tired eyes. “Bruce, we should–”

When she looked up again, his eyes were hard. He was angry. So was she. But there was nothing they could do about it at that moment.

“Arson?” Alfred repeated as she and Bruce stared at each other. “They’re sure?”

“I guess so. After the Riddler’s video…”

“What video?” Alfred asked.

“I forgot you’ve been unconscious for a while,” she said, but her joke fell on deaf ears. “The Riddler…outed me as the confidential informant in the case from last year. Within a few hours the Gotham Project burned down.” She shrugged even though there was a hard knot burning in the center of her chest. God, she just wanted to sleep.

Alfred cursed impressively for a man with a head wound. “We should call–”

“I have to go,” Bruce interrupted, voice almost a growl. “You two stay here.”

“Nope,” y/n said, “I’m coming with you. I’m in this shit as much as you are now, if not more.”

“Be careful,” Alfred said, interrupting whatever argument Bruce had been about to make. “I mean it.” It was his dad voice again. Y/n almost smiled. He really was feeling better if he was using it on them.

“We’ll be back as soon as we can,” y/n said as she took Bruce’s hand and led him out.

He waited until they were in the elevator to speak. “Arson?” He spat out the word.

“The Riddler has a lot to answer for,” she said. “That’s just one thing on the list.”

“I have to finish this,” Bruce said. He turned a tight circle in the small space, like he was full of too much pent up energy to stay still.

“We have to finish this,” y/n said. She put a steadying hand on his arm. “And we will.”

The elevator dinged and the doors slid open. When she went to step out, Bruce caught her wrist and tugged her close. Their chests brushed as they breathed in tandem. He leaned down and rested his forehead against hers.

“What?” she asked softly as the elevator doors slid shut again. Bruce simply stared at her for a long moment.

“I won’t let him take anything else from us,” Bruce said in a whisper.

“I won’t either,” she said.

He kissed her lightly, all of his pain and frustration and anger pouring into the kiss as surely as it was her own.

“We shouldn’t keep Gordon waiting,” she murmured as he pulled away. “It’s cold as shit outside, he’s probably impatient.”

Bruce took her hand.

“I heard, um, your conversation with Alfred,” she told him as he led her to his car. They’d speed home, change, and swap cars as quickly as they could. “I’m sorry about–about your parents. About all of that.”

She braced herself for Bruce to be angry at her eavesdropping, but he stayed silent as they pulled away from the hospital.

“The Riddler has a lot to answer for,” Bruce finally said, “But so does Carmine Falcone. And I intend to collect on both accounts.”

Y/n intended to collect from both of them, too. One way or another, they would pay for what they had done to Bruce, to Alfred, to her, and to the city. She was going to make sure of it.

Next Chapter

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xing-hua · 5 months

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multifandom match 2023

well, whew. it's almost fully been a week since this event ended and i'm still reeling (in no small part thanks to the fact that work just has not let up and will not let me go until monday next week), but anyway. i just wanted to gather my thoughts into one long post that hopefully no one will read LMAO

it was glorious, and insane. i don't even know where to start lmao, i learned so much & it was such a new experience to me?

i guess. first. i've always wanted to collab with someone! or someones. but i've always been too shy to ask? this just blew that out of the water. i went in fandom-blind for so many of the pieces i made companion works for. and i loved it, i enjoyed letting people make me emotionally invested in characters i didn't know. i enjoyed reading writing i wouldn't otherwise have read because of fandom differences. i really enjoyed screaming lovingly at people about how much i enjoyed their works.

and i love making stuff for people! i tried a bunch of new things for this event. excising parts of my fic out to use as bsides because i didn't have enough time to finish a fic i cared too much about within the deadline (lol), showing my drafts before they were complete (yikes), translating into a language i'm not that great at (i'm CN-EN, dangit, not the other way around??), and i (badly) attempted a podfic?? this whole process has unlocked something terrifying and shameless within me and the internet will regret it.

anyway, i digress. it was wonderful and insane and i loved every moment of it. to have an incredibly lovely, supportive group of people to work towards something with was an experience i would not give up for the world, or all the hours of rest i missed out on. super grateful to dylan for organising, and muse for organising team fluff with a level of precision i marvelled at -- i have sm to learn -- and all my teammates for being so supportive and talking me down the two (2) times i wanted to give up <3 i haven't been as excited or lived with as much love as i had over the past month, it was really something!!

#sol screams #multifandom match #multifandom match 2023 #mfmteamfluff

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creamypudding · 2 years

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Miraculously enough, I got a chapter done in under a day. I was on fire. It was a magnificent change from the day and week long drags of writing previous chapters.

And now I only have 2 more chapters left to write. The next one is going to be a doozy as all the build-up leads to a massive climax. There are things in this chapter that I skipped out on writing in the first draft and now I can no longer avoid it. I have to face the music and write this stuff out.

Yikes.

I have been looking forward to rewriting the last couple of chapters since I started the 2nd draft and as always, now that I’m here I am faced with the reality of having to actually put down on the page everything that’s been floating in my head and floating around random documents.

I can’t believe I’m almost at the end! Finally. I can’t believe I’ve stuck to this fic for almost a solid year with absolutely no detours or distractions. That hasn’t happened since I wrote my first fic in 2015/2016.

I wonder if it’s because I plowed ahead and just wrote the first draft without being too hard on myself. I don’t think there was ever a point where I fell out of love with this story. Yes, it was hard in spots. I had to make some hard calls on changing some elements of the story, but I have loved every minute spent writing this. And boy, there have been a lot of minutes put into this.

In the past, my interest has fizzled with other stories, or I feel like it’s just too hard and there were more interesting things I wanted to explore. But the stint on working on this story has been very solid and I’ve never felt like I wanted to write something else, even though I have other stories and ideas waiting in the wings.

Anyway. I look forward to finishing the 2nd draft in probably two months time. Maybe I’ll take a short break and write a small story before going in for the (hopefully) final revision.

#writing stuff

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aliatori · 2 years

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*bangs fists on table* PLAYLIST PLAYLIST PLAYLIST. What are your top five tracks and why?

Five. FIVE? OUT OF 167 TOTAL SONGS IN THE EXTENDED MUSIC VERSE? You realize this is like, an impossible question. 🤣🤣 But I will play by the rules and give you five—though I refuse to rank them so you can consider them all of equal rank. Short answer: Between Wind and Water by Hael Breath by Ex Makina Blackest Hand by Saint Mesa Everybody Bleeds the Same by Kerli Bloodsport by Raleigh Ritchie

Pure coincidence that they almost all start with ‘b’. ‘Why’ under the cut for length (natch) and Fate and Furor spoilers.

Between Wind and Water

This song over the past year has become my peak soft!Hubriel song (for a given value of soft—vulnerable, I think, would be more accurate). The first time it popped up on the playlist, I listened to it on repeat for more hours than I am willing to assign a value to and just Had Emotions All Over The Place. The ‘stare into space, feel overwhelmed from head to toe, make choked noises of wistful longing’ kinds of emotions. In addition to the actual instrumental parts having this compelling, complex rhythm, the vocals on this track are really beautiful and full of such yearning.

The lyrics, of course, are on point as well. I’m in trouble now being such a key refrain of the verses was one of the first things that struck me, and it’s such a Gab and Hugo mood. There are so many reasons them getting together is, objectively, a bad idea, everything from complicating the Squall’s hierarchy to complex and difficult power dynamics to the general culture of the fold. But they fall into it anyway, and what I really love is that even though it’s slotted in the early Hubriel days—and definitely, the ‘I’m catching feelings and I am so fucked’ mood is most prevalent there—you can as easily look at this through a Fate and Furor lens and find a lot of mileage too.

And the chorus of this? YIKES. FULL EMOTIONAL DESTRUCTION. Neither Gab nor Hugo do anything by halves, and I love that the chorus alludes to being out of control but unable to stop yourself from upping the intensity. Implying the other person strips them of their defenses? Another Hubriel mood.

What really tipped this over for me, though… It was only a few months ago I learned that ‘between wind and water’ is both a nautical term and an idiom. And sorry, but ‘any point particularly susceptible to attack or injury’ basically describes Hugo and Gab’s relationship. Through all the years, through everything, they have been between wind and water. But as the chorus implies: they’re not capable of stopping it, and every attempt just sinks them further in.

Breath

I got so spoiled on my birthday with Hubriel content and I’m so glad this song was a part of the gift. I remember being on the train the first listen through, and then I blinked and several hours of daydreaming had passed. This song, more than any other song, I consider the quintessential Gab song, particularly in the context of Gab and Xeheia’s relationship.

The bluster, the arrogance, the brashness—those are all absolutely parts of Gab, and ones I love dearly. But beneath all the Bad Man Hot, there’s definitely a vulnerability that doesn’t get shown often at all, and I think Breath captures that perfectly. He loves as hard as he fights, and his love and faith for Xeheia are such an integral part of his character; this song evokes such immersive yearning. Peak moody maritime vibes. (;

The second I heard this song, the entire scene with Xeheia and Gab in Fate and Furor wrote itself. I listened to it compulsively on repeat as I drafted and edited it.

AND FINALLY, SIX MONTHS LATER (SORRY LOL) I can talk about why it grabbed me so hard from the jump with the opening lyrics of ‘speak your truth—they already know’. Even as far back as November I knew that the lead up to Gab finally meeting with ACTUAL Xeheia again would be a lot of hard conversations: with the fold, with his crew, and especially with Hugo. And immediately in my head, I just interpreted that as a Xeheia to Gab sentiment. Her return faith in him—that she shares with Hugo, meme jokes be damned—that he’s capable of doing this, that they know what he feels is true and he should embrace it.

And the look on your face was here in every sound routinely messes me up real good from this song. My favourite interpretation of this is Xeheia to Gab, expressing she was always with him.

Still your mind, there’s oceans below/Raise your sail and then let go – This lyric perfectly encompasses Gab’s ascension – his TRUE ascension as Xeheia’s scion, not Patriarch, and I love that it could be interpreted to refer to the depths.

And, it doesn’t hurt that this song fits perfectly for post-Carnage Xeheia too. <3

Blackest Hand

OH MY GOD. I had to interrogate my motives for picking this as one of the five to make sure it wasn’t just ‘FINALLY, THE CONTEXT IS MADE CLEAR’, but no, honestly, this is the quintessential Hugo song to go with the Gab version in ‘Breath’. (And pairs with ‘Throne’ on the Gab playlist I made). Obviously Saint Mesa is a Certified F&F Artist, so I had to have one of his songs on there, and this is definitely the one for the five.

Usually even when plotting I go from beginning to end, but with Fate and Furor, I knew all the ending scenes and worked backwards. (Don’t ask me about my act 3 rework, I beg you). So for almost an entire year, I have been sitting on my hands with the context of this song. LIKE. I’m screaming into my fist right now.

Every single lyric in this song maps to something in F&F much like every lyric in Breath maps to something. I’ve been all the cold, see me: I took this as more as a metaphorical sort of cold, both in demeanour and being on the outside. I’ve been in the world, see me: Obvious allusions to Hugo’s widespread worldly experience with all his different roles. I’ve been coming short, breathin’: I love a good drowning callback. I’ve been killing my demons: the navy, the fold (metaphorically), Izod. I’m a second chance, see me: Both references to Hugo’s relationships with Gab and Xeheia and his legendary survivability. I’m a dead romance, see me: … too soon? But also metaphorically. I’m the blackest hand, beating: Needs no explanation. I’m the biggest man, bleeding: Don’t we all know it? EVEN THE BRIDGE!!! Light my face up: I knew The Traitor’s Gaze would be destroyed in the final chapter, and I knew it would go out in a blaze of glory with the iddy bonus of Hugo getting temporary glowy eyes. Drip down the bluff: You know, storming on the cliffs of Watcher’s Cove Crack open the mountain: ALMOST LIKE A CERTAIN MOUNTAINSIDE CRUMBLING AROUND HUGO AND GAB And call out your son: LIKE, HELLO?? I love that this can be read two ways in context of the final scenes – calling out Gab as Xeheia’s chosen son, or calling out Hugo, who used to be Xeheia’s son too

Is the refrain of ‘the blackest hand’ a bit on the nose? Perhaps. Do I think it’s fucking stellar anyway? Yes.

Everybody Bleeds the Same

Kerli is another artist who has massive F&F vibes and who is on most of the playlists so I knew I wanted one Kerli song, and this one is definitely it.

This song is like… my favourite complicated messy late game Hubriel feelings. The entire first verse is basically a chapter 12 and 13 mood. Every wound is salty, every memory scarred came for my whole entire throat, as does forgive me, I’m a failure when it comes to your heart.

I don’t have as much detailed analysis for this one as I have for some of the other ones. What I love the most about it is like… Gabriel and Hugo, by the end, have both reached some level of acceptance of their history? We cannot take back the damage we’ve caused/We cut too close and we push too far could be about the literal events of Fate and Furor and about the entire Hubriel relationship tbh.

To me, this song is about the acknowledgement that they’re both hurting and hurt, that they’ve both made mistakes, but in the end – they’re in it together, flaws and mistakes and all.

Bloodsport

If Between Wind and Water is my vulnerable!Hubriel anthem, Bloodsport is and has been my contentious!Hubriel anthem.

This gives me all the emotions for different reasons than Between Wind and Water. This is like… the unique amalgamation of hate and love and hate to love that makes Hubriel so delicious to me and why I love them so much? There’s a lot of allusions to a tough history in this song (And though you hate me, when you have a turn/I drive you crazy but you always return) as well as loving each other through that tough history (Although you love me, sometimes we’re mean/Things can get ugly but we’re still a team)

Knowing how the last couple chapters of Fate and Furor went, the I am all yours, I am unmanned/I’m on all fours, willingly damned pre-chorus has gotten me good for the better part of a half a year… you know, since literally both of them are on all fours and willingly ready to damn themselves for each other at the end. (‘:

And like… I’ve got your back, and though it’s stacked against us/I’ve got your hand, it’s us against consensus speaks a lot to the entirety of Fate and Furor tbh. Neither Gab nor Hugo’s people are fully onboard with what they’re doing, or even partially, but even though they fight and argue about it, they have each other’s back in the end against impossible odds.

Anyway, what I'm trying to say is I'll protect you til the day I meet my maker/So don't fight me now cause you might need me later – I swear this line came up in discussions elsewhere between us, but it gets me every single time, especially with the full scope of the plotty part of their story done. What I love is that this could equally be read from Hugo or Gab’s perspective; both of them are fiercely protective of each other (no one gets to hurt/kill you but me energy), and both of them have needed each other at integral parts in their journey.

Thanks for asking and for humoring me, because I could easily talk this much about every song on all these playlists, not just these five. <3 <3 <3

#the forsaken and the forsworn #hubriel #ali answers

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nevertheless-moving · 3 years

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Unnamed Extremely Bad Plan to Defeat Darth Sideous AU - SW AU NO 9

Hopefully writing down this star wars au will help me exorcise the cringe demon that helped midwife it. Time travel au where obi-wan and Anakin come up with an extremely SPECIFIC and UNCOMFORTABLE plan to defeat Palpatine because it unfortunately, would actually work, as it capitalizes on one of Palpatine’s easiest to reach political vulnerabilities. This is not a unique plan- there are other au’s like this, but this one is mine. When searching for ways to explain exactly why this anti-sith strategy inspires such cringe and delight in myself I realized, with sinking dread, I have seen this in an Always Sunny episode...which yeah. I might be over reacting but hey, cringe is a personal phenomenon, everyone’s different.

Anyway! Uh here’s a bunch of plot that will eventually culminate in the plan.

*Too much plot, aaaah*. **All plot actually.** ***Its 1 am and this is still a draft*** ****It’s 2am**** *****This post will be just be background I guess.*****

*******STAR WARS AU NO 9 LAZILY OUTLINED CHAPTER ONE*********

Force ghosts Darth Vader and Ben Kenobi have had time to yell at one another without need for breath, and have more-or-less come to terms with the trainwreck that was their shared life. I wouldn’t call them well adjusted, but they’re more stable then they were the last decade or so of their living existence.

In haunting Luke, they end up encountering an artifact in an ancient Willis temple that offers spirits the chance to fix the mistakes they made in life. It doesn’t truly unwrite what’s been done, but it lets you create an alternate timeline. So this galaxy will still be what it is, but some alternate galaxy somewhere could at least have it better. Its almost never been used, because becoming one with the force usually lets you accept the past, but viewed objectively, Vader and Ben’s lives involved an extreme amount of yikes. They say goodbye to Luke and are flung backwards and sideways.

Anakin is holding his mother as she dies. Obi-Wan is landing on Genosis.

Vader just barely manages to avoid slaughtering the tuskens. To be honest, he doesn’t really get why he shouldn’t- his moral compass is still pretty f-ed up. He’s fairly certain the force is just torturing him, but still he controls himself (for Padme for Luke for Leia).

I’m gonna say well-adjusted!Vader sees murder in general as more of a vice than a sin- on par with having a beer. And really well adjusted Vader is willing to admit to himself that he’s an alcoholic, he seriously cannot regulate, its a problem. He really can’t let himself go, because he’ll just end up spiraling. And so he restrains himself and only seriously maims a few of the adult raiders.

Vader figures he can always come back later and slowly torture them to death if this whole ‘save the future’ thing doesn’t pan out.

Obi-wan leaves his shuttle and hides under a rock for 30 minutes. He calculates thats just enough time for him to pretend he went on an extremely effective and sneaky fact finding mission- just in case anyone checks R4′s records. Gets back in shuttle and gets the fuck out of there, much to Dooku’s chagrin, who lost sight of him after the shuttle landed and is now going to have to switch to one of his alternate start-the-war plans.

On the flight back he reports everything to the council- fallen Dooku and the separatist leaders, the trade federation and the massive droid army, Jango Fett the clone template of the republic army (?) working for the separatists. He briefly comms Anakin, but anyone hacking into their conversations would hear only a nonsensical, rambling conversation. Later, a hacker might turn over the idea that they were speaking in elaborate code, but why would Jedi invent such a thing during peacetime?

The war still starts; at this point in the timeline it was inevitable; the artifact was only designed to give them the chance to correct their own failings, not the galaxy’s. Palpatine still gets his emergency powers.

The same day the armies are discovered, separatist war ships take off to engulf Ryloth. The Jedi are instructed by the senate to lead the clone army and provide immediate relief-this will not be a repeat of the republic’s inaction on Naboo. It’s both better and worse than the first Battle of Genosis. So many more civilians are caught in the crossfire. The first titanic battle is not contained to evacuated droid factories, but rages across an entire populated world. The battle lasts for weeks.

The main reason this fight is less deadly is solely due to the fact that General Kenobi manages to maneuver his way into high command of the entire army.

“I believe assumptions were made since I was the first point of contact with Kamino, Masters,” the Knight explained apologetically to the arriving high council members. “I realize its not quite appropriate, but for right now I am the Jedi most familiar with our forces and the enemies. I would, of course, prefer to cede the role to someone else.”

The assembled Jedi can feel the truth in that statement.

“For better or for worse, advance troops were directed by the senate to land planetside and have met heavy resistance. I managed to redirect them to a more defensible position, where they can provide surface based cover fire for incoming reinforcements. The battle has already begun.” He received a grim nod of approval from Master Windu.

“I feel the need to say now, that if there’s one thing I learned from my time as a general on Melida/Dann, or in working against Death Watch on Mandalore, its that having a clear chain of command is vital for a military to succeed. I don’t need to remind some of you that leadership breakdowns were what ultimately ended both the Stark Hyperspace War and the Yinchorri Crisis,” Masters Koon and Tiin exchanged looks before deliberately sending forth a small force wave of approval, understanding where this briefing was leading.

“I believe that unnecessarily restructuring command before the battle is won here could do far more harm than good.” The reminder of Obi-wan’s unusually militaristic apprenticeship put some of the assembled knights at ease even as it inspired a twinge of guilt in the older masters.

“In command you are, General Kenobi,” Master Yoda finally acknowledged. “A Jedi Master you will be, once done this battle is. Have us do, what would you?”

The battle lasts for weeks, and when its over, the commanding Jedi and Troopers involved will openly acknowledge that had anyone else been in command, it would’ve lasted months, if not years. Facing down logistical, strategic, and tactical problems on a scale unheard of for a thousand years, High General Kenobi does not falter.

Enemy reinforcements seem unending. For all their preparation, every single trooper is new to war, and secretly concerned that should they fall, they will be replaced with cadets who hadn’t even finished their training.

Obi-Wan is putting out fires before they can start. Much to their shock, clone commanders are informed that they will, for the time being, remain in charge of their troops. With a handful of exceptions, Jedi ‘Generals’ were in fact, to be treated as a cross between highly skilled commandoes and advisors with abnormally sourced field intelligence.

“All of you have spent your lives training to lead your brothers into combat. The Jedi Masters and knights who are being assigned to your divisions have not received such training.”

General Kenobi addressed the division commanders, some in person, some over holocomm. All focused in rapt attention as their General reordered the shape of their lives using language they could understand.

“The command structure I am issuing is designed to maximize our ability to utilize our respective strategic capabilities, while minimizing potential loss of your life. It will be our great privilege to serve alongside such an army, and while I fully expect a complementary exchange of knowledge in time, for now, focus on survival.”

The Jedi received similar briefings, tailored for their broader array of combat and military experience. Some, including Jedi Master Pong Krell and Grandmaster Yoda, were pulled aside and tasked with the essential mission of infiltrating and destroying the Droid factories on Genosis. If they were to have a chance of winning this war, they they would need to cut off the seemingly unceasing flow of droid reinforcements.

An elite squadron of Arctroopers and Jedi field operatives were covertly dispatched, Grandmaster Yoda himself in command. Considering Count Dooku had yet to appear anywhere near Ryloth...the grandmaster had the best chance of bringing in the fallen separatist leader alive for questioning.

Shortly after they left, Anakin arrived, having finally turned over Padme’s protection to her regular guard. With the military creation vote past, the assassination risk was considered minimal. The real delay in his arrival came from her repeated attempts to join the Grand Army of the Republic on Ryloth with the intent of coordinating humanitarian assistance. Eventually he managed to convince her that she could do more good in the senate.

After all, he pointed out, someone would need to followup the military creation act with a bill to grant clones equal citizen rights. Otherwise, the legal grey area that cloning fell under and their non-republic origin would inadvertently make the clones slaves.

His borrowed Nabooan cruiser entered the warzone with the grace and efficiency as a small neutron bomb.

Those close enough to see its flaming descent watched in horror, realizing that the high generals own padawan would likely be a war casualty before he ever engaged in combat.

The legion nearest to soon-to-be-ground-zero, under the command of Captain Rex of the 501st, were distracted by heated combat, as the temporary barricade they had put up to defend the civilian population gave way to droidika artillery.

While reloading, several dozen troopers happened to look up to see a speck detach itself from the hull as at spiraled in the lower atmosphere. Hope spread that the Jedi had managed to activate some sort of eject hatch. A skilled shocktrooper could probably control and and survive such a fall with luck, which mean a Jedi almost certainly could.

A few tactical scouts charged with watching the skies confirmed that the speck was indeed a humanoid. No chute was visible, but even 8 days into the war, rumors had already spread about how Master Windu had passed off his chute mid-air to a troopers who had been damaged by suppressing fire, cushioning his free fall solely with the tank he crushed upon landing.

Only one trooper, stationed in the town clock tower specifically to track the Padawan’s arrival and issued with a high-resolution farscope, saw the whole thing. Fortunately for his credibility later, in its current setting, the scope automatically logged photos every 5 seconds, ensuring that for years to come Obi-Wan would have a flipbook as evidence that he was not the crazy one.

CT-3609 or Blink (as he was named after winning the division wide staring contest on Kamino two year prior) forwarded the trajectory of the vehicle to command, who confirmed his analysis that it would impact two clicks out from their makeshift fort and not present a risk to civilian or trooper lives.

As it traversed the stratosphere a figure (desperate repair droid, Blink assumed) emerged from the cockpit to perch on the nose of the ship. As it entered the troposphere, it became painfully obvious that the figure jutting out from the hull of the ship was in fact not a humanoid droid, but an unarmored human. The Jedi stood on the prow of the ship, seemingly impervious to and oblivious of:

air resistance

centrifugal force

normal space gravity

Blink’s slack-jawed bewilderment

the flames engulfing the ship below him

At this range, the smirk on the man’s face was visible (man? boy? kriff is he even through puberty?). Several miles above the surface he leaped, diving towards the ground like a bird of prey.

To the west, the ship made impact with the ground, sending a shockwave that shook the tower just enough for Blink to lose visual in the final moments of descent. Cursing, as while he was confident the Jedi would inexplicably survive, he really wanted to see how. The trooper scanned the droid-engulfed farmland to the north for a crash site, to no avail. Lingering smoke from the burnt countryside negatively impacted visibility low to the ground.

Rather than trying to articulate his report into words, he sent the 50-odd frames the farscope had saved, as well as the coordinates for the jedi’s projected radius of touchdown. A quick radio over to long range electro-ballistics ensured that his landing wouldn’t be marred by friendly fire.

He awaited follow-up questions on the absurd entry method, which, when they came, mostly consisted of variations on “...Is this for real?” and eventually “Can you set the scope to video for a little while?” and finally “Do you think that’s how he got the name Skywalker?”

There was a temporarily lull in fire from the west, likely a ripple effect from the ship’s explosion. From his vantage point Blink could see his batchmates using the opportunity to try and plug the holes in their barricade with broken droid pieces. Regardless of the itch to join them, he knew he couldn’t leave his post until the Jedi actually arrived in camp. Finally, a distant explosion and thick pillar of smoke gave the Jedi’s position away.

He tried to make out details, but the scope had a difficult time focusing through the haze. Manually trying to fine tune the scope’s settings, Blink caught a glimpse of what looked like half a hover tank sailing through the air to impact with a trade federation troop carrier in a fiery explosion. Several more explosions, flying droid artillery, and plumes of smoke were caught on record before visual contact with the source was established. He was mostly visible as a blue blur, lightsaber mowing a meandering path towards their location.

It wasn’t until Skywalker braced himself in place to punch a droidaka into pieces that Blink caught actual sight of the man. Only his eyes were visible, nose and mouth covered by layers of cloth. He blurred, then reappeared on top a massive missile launcher attached to an absurdly heavily armored vehicle. A minute or so of rapid blue flashes passed, the longest he had seen concentrated in one area. Then Skywalker was gone, movement clearly visible as he for once he moved in a straight line, plowing a rapid path away from the launcher.

Less than 30 seconds later, Blink had to wince away from the scope, as a burning white explosion temporarily overwhelmed the direct light filter. The trooper panicked for a moment, thinking he had gone both deaf and blind, but the abrupt, sucking silence ended after a moment with a deafening sonic boom. The shockwave rattled the farscope, nearly knocking it over, but Blink managed to steady it and himself in time.

A cheer emerged from pleasantly surprised vod below. The entire droid legion that had been guarding the missile launcher and apparent ordinance bay was flattened.

It took a moment for the realization to set in that the background noise of missile and and anti-missile collisions directly overhead had slowed pace. With the northern flank gone, artillery were able to redouble efforts to the east, and a second white hot shockwave ensued, signaling that the tide of battle had shifted. It was almost too easy for the republics electro-ballistics to tactically devastate the surrounding forces.

Eventually some sort of win/loss programming must have set in and all forces outside of a certain radius began retreating southward, conceding the scorched land to the republic army. It was cadets work to clean up the final suicidal droid charge.

A commotion ensued as Skywalker leapt the barricade with a mid-air flip. The vod greeted him with cheers, as they correctly assumed his appearance had something to do with the skirmish’s decisive victory.

Blink sent the video of the battle to command and quickly packed up his scope and assorted equipment. Hurrying down the battered tower, Blink thought to himself that this Anakin Skywalker was the best sort of Jedi a trooper could ask for.

uh sorry i got really sidetracked there moving on

Kenobi and Skywalker quickly become the face of the war once again

they grit their teeth a bit, but when they finally have a moment to really plan they eventually agree that to take down Sideous they have to cut off his political power in addition to everything else, and taking advantage of their public personas was the most accessible way to do so (*evil laughter*)

While Dooku wasn’t captured, Yoda heard the truth in his old student’s cryptic warnings about a Sith in the Senate, and the council begins carefully editing their release of tactical plans to the Chancellor’s office in the hopes of ferreting out the spy in their midst.

Pong Krell looses two arms in his duel with Dooku. Obi-Wan successfully hides his smug pleasure at the news. Anakin enjoys makeing comparisons between him and Grievous.

Kenobi doesn’t allow the origin of the clones to go unexamined, although he agrees that if the public were informed that they don’t actually know who ordered them it would probably cause panic.

The ‘inhibitor chips’ are ‘discovered’ early on and Anakin leads the effort to ensure that they are phased out and removed immediately. This consists of reminding every Jedi who even hesitates about how how he as a child slave had some experience with control chips and unless you want to take a leaf out of the hutts books lets start doing brain surgery chop chop mmmkay?

(This isn’t to say that Vader doesn’t still a twinge of shame at acknowledging his slave roots. But it is eclipsed by the burning guilt that he knowingly acted as slave master to his troops for decades after Sideous wiped their minds. He tried to rationalize it to himself, after all he didn’t immediately understand what Order 66 had done to the troopers. But while the morality of murder was more of an intellectual concern than a personal one, treating people as things...)

The Kamonions are a little harder to budge, referencing contracts that they refuse to allow the Jedi to see

Finally Vader snuck into the Chief Medical Scientist’s home while she was sleeping and straight-up threatened to murder her and burn down her lab. At the risk of losing her life’s work, Nala Se complied.

Vader left with the final threat that in the event that Darth Tyranus caught wind and activated Order 66 prematurely, he would kill 100 Kamonians for every Jedi felled by troopers. Shaak Ti was pleased by the cloners sudden change of heart. Tyrannus, and by extension, Sideous, are in the dark.

Obi-Wan frequently publicly confronts Palpatine about the troops citizen status, urging him make use of his emergency powers to grant them citizenship and full pay, with the option to leave the army should they so wish.

Anakin manages to play off his avoidance of the Chancellor as disappointment in his perceived lack of dedication to anti-slavery efforts

Finally Palpatine gives in- regardless of what happens next, the troops will be looked after.

With 2/3rds of the troopers dechipped, Vaderkin is eager to kill Sideous again, but after several intense screaming matches and sparring sessions, the time travelers come to the agreement that even if they succeed in their duel, with things as they were, the perception of the Jedi military coop would cause mass civil unrest. The scattered sith apprentices, while individually weak, were more than capable of magnifying that fear and anger until the galaxy breaks. Darth Sideous wanted to ensure that if he couldn’t have the galaxy, no one would.

(Vader knows this. Sideous enjoyed monologuing, and much of his plotting couldn’t be safely bragged about until after he had decisively won, leaving Vader as the unwilling receptacle for years of pent-up rants and self-satisfied gloats about the inevitability of his victory)

Continued Here

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zevlors-tail · 3 years

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Febuwhump Day 8 - “Hey, hey, this is no time to sleep!”

A/N: I can’t believe I just wrote this in one sitting. I know I’m super behind on Febuwhump, yikes...but I think this turned out pretty well! This got longer than I meant it to be, but then, so did most of the prompts in my drafts that I have for this month. This is actually my first time purposefully writing whump so I hope this was okay! Unedited btw, i’ll read it over in the morning.

TW: Burning building, explosions, second degree burns, mentions/descriptions of burn wounds, life or death situation, building collapse, concussed reader.

***

The first thing Hawks notices when he comes to is the foul taste in his mouth. It causes him to gag and cough with his eyes still closed, though that doesn’t help his situation much if at all. The smell of something burning sears the inside of his nostrils and clogs his lungs, and he finds it incredibly hard to breathe as he rolls over onto his side, eyes finally fluttering open.

The second thing he becomes acutely aware of is how hot he is. No...how hot the floor is. Speaking of which, he couldn’t seem to recall what he was doing down there anyways. If only that incessantly annoying ringing in his ears would stop-

Wait. Wait a minute...

An image of you flashes behind his eyelids as he blinks them shut harshly to block out the billowing cloud of smoke filling the room, and it all comes back to him in a whirlwind.

There were villains. High class villains. Not your every day run of the mill villains, but villains who could really pack a punch when fighting back. They had been occupying a small skyscraper at the time as their headquarters, and you and Hawks had partnered up to take them down after months of steak outs and observation. But something had gone wrong...very wrong. Those details were still a bit blurry, but Hawks remembers something akin to an explosion- a loud noise, the building shaking, and a blast that knocked him unconscious.

All of the sudden he’s hyper aware of what’s going on- and he realizes he needs to move fast if he’s going to get out of here alive. He’s at least twenty stories up in the air on unstable structures, his feathers and hair are singed, and his head is foggy after inhaling too much smoke. Luckily he can still move, and it doesn’t look like he’s been burned too severely, at least not yet. But the flames licking at the bottom of the closed door in front of him cause alarm bells to scream out in his head, and he knows he doesn’t have much time to think. He needs to find you so he can grab you and-

Ohhh, shit.

As he rolls over onto his other side, he can make out the outline of a figure lying on the floor, and he’s almost certain it’s you. None of the villains stuck around after blowing the place up anyways, and he can just barely see the dulled colors of your hero suit behind the thick screen of smoke.

“Fuck! Oh god, Y/N.”

You’re lying too still for your own good, and Hawks thinks he can see the beginning of what he can only assume to be fire slowly eating at the wall next to you. He wastes no time and flattens himself on his stomach, army crawling in your general direction to avoid the worst of the putrid air. It doesn’t help much, but it’s better than nothing. He ignores the uncomfortable heat of his body and pushes onward, his movements still a little sluggish from getting knocked out cold. He’s not entirely sure if he can even use his feathers right now while they’re this singed, and furthermore, he hopes his wings aren’t completely out of commission; he’s going to need those if the both of you are going to make it out of this alive.

“Y/N!” he tries to shout, though it ends in a horrible sounding cough that comes from deep in his chest. As he draws nearer, he hears what sounds like creaking coming from above the two of you, and to his utter horror, the support beams under floor above you have burnt to a crisp and look like they’re ready to collapse any second. It had to have been a sheer miracle that the two of you weren’t already engulfed in flames yourselves. “Y/N! Come on, kid, you gotta get up! Move!”

Even as he tries to urgently get your attention his body seems to move on it’s own accord, and before he can stop himself, he sends a few feathers your way out of habit and concern that you might be crushed any second if he doesn’t move you somehow. It hurts like hell, and he’s pretty sure he’s bleeding. This is by far the worst he’s felt when using his feathers, but it does pay off, and you’re lucky that he made the split decision to move you- no sooner had he scrambled back with you had the ceiling collapsed into the floor.

He turns to you while staying low to the ground, shaking you desperately and firmly smacking the side of your face with his hand in hopes of interrupting your forced slumber. It works but just barely, and Hawks watches as you try to take a deep breath but end up choking just as he had. He gives you a once-over while you struggle to breathe, eyes flitting over your form to assess any damage you may have taken- and to his dismay, there seems to be a good amount of it. The entire left side of your hero outfit is singed, bits of the fabric even burnt into your skin in certain places where the heat must have been too strong. You hadn’t been able to move away or protect yourself in your sleep, and the burns on your arm and leg can definitely attest to that. They’re second degree, at least; some of the fire must have actually made contact with your skin.

“Oh, fuck- Hey, look at me. Y/N, focus here!”

He leans over you to look at your eyes, and he doesn’t have to shine a light in them or have you follow his finger to know that you hit your head a little too hard. They’re glossy and unfocused, and you can’t find a single place on his face to fixate on. You just keep looking all over, and Hawks can clearly tell your concussed.

Fucking great. He’s got to get you both out, and now.

“Hey, kid. Can you hear me?” He nervously awaits an answer with eyes trained on you, and the second you start to talk he lets out a small breath of short-lived relief.

“Hawks...? Wha...” You look so out of it and dazed.

“So that’s a yes, thank god...” Before you try to ask anything else, he stops you in your tracks and shakes his head at you. “Whoa, whoa, whoa- take it easy, alright? No questions, I just need you to listen and keep talking to me. Doesn’t matter what it’s about, I just need to know you’re awake and alive-” He pauses briefly to look around for something, anything he can do to escape.

There’s the door you both came from, the one that’s barely holding back the raging heat behind it- that’s a no-go. No way in hell is he trying to brave that. His wings won’t last five seconds in that, and you don’t have the means to protect yourself while you’re concussed. Another option is to try and escape through the hole in the floor that the ceiling caused...but that’s way too risky for the both of you as is, and it looks like flames are starting to creep in from that way, too. If he is going to take that route, he needs to do it soon. Maybe he can get to a staircase, or find a-

The sound of you moaning in pain cuts through his thoughts and his head whips back in your direction to find you grimacing and trying to move. “Ah ah- Don’t do that. Just keep talking, come on. I know it hurts, but you gotta keep talkin’ to me. I’m gonna get us out of this mess, somehow...”

Panic starts to set in as he realizes his options are limited. Terror grips him in it’s icy stone-cold jaws as he comes to the conclusion that his odds of survival are even worse.

“Hawks...it hur’s...” All you can do is roll your head back and forth and try to move, but your body just won’t cooperate with your mind.

“Fuck. Fuck! I know, I know...” His teeth grit together as he thinks, his thoughts racing a mile a minute. Adrenaline is starting to kick in, and he’s desperate for anything at this point.

He still has no plan in mind when he makes another split second decision to move you from where you’re currently laying. The fire is only spreading up onto the carpeted floor the two of you are on, and the smoke is getting worse by the second; this room is a hot box with no ventilation at this point. He carefully picks you up and cradles you to his chest, his wings wrapping around the both of you to both support your frame and shield you from the onslaught of unbearable heat. It forces him to take a few steps back, and he does his best to navigate through a screen of black without bumping into any furniture. He almost trips several times, but eventually he hits the opposite wall. Or, rather...

A window. Bingo.

“S’ tired...” you mumble. Your eyes are already fluttering, rolling to the back of your head as your limbs grow heavy in his arms.

“Hey, hey, this is no time to sleep! Y/N!? Come on, stay awake!”

“C’n we go...home now?”

He doesn’t like how ragged your breathing sounds.

He almost chuckles at the absurdity of the situation, but his lungs are already full of tainted air to laugh, let alone breathe properly, so he scoffs instead- and instantly regrets it. Between fits of coughs, he presses his shoulder to the glass behind you both to test the temperature, and it’s much hotter than it should be. Part of the glass is already blown out to his right, but there’s not enough space to crawl out without the jagged edges of it tearing up his flesh and wings. But if he could somehow break it...

His feathers. He’ll have to use up more of them, but if he uses the bare minimum necessary to break the glass and saves the majority, he may be able to make it out the window and fly you both to safety.

“We can’t go home yet,” he chokes out in response to you, finally. “I’m gonna get you out of here, and then you’re on your way to the hospital, yeah? You’re gonna be fine.”

He knows that to be true, so long as he can actually manage this. He backs up as far as he can go without subjecting either of you to the hot flames now openly invading the room, the entryway having burnt to a crisp already. From where he stands now, he hopes there’s enough distance to create the amount of force needed to shatter that damn glass. After a quick estimate of how many feathers he can get away with using, he readies them, and it all boils down this moment. If he can’t do this, you’ll both die. Both of your lives are at stake, resting on his weary shoulders. He can do this.

He has to.

“Wanna go home...wanna go...” You’re just murmuring to yourself, and it really puts Hawks on edge.

He hears the glass shatter before he sees it. He stumbles forward, wings still securely wrapped around you, and all but falls out of the edge of the window right before the rest of the floor collapses in on itself. He hears the devastation behind him, feels sparks on his back where the holes of his shirt meet the beginnings of his wings. He knows if he had hesitated or stayed any longer, neither of you would be alive right now.

Replacing his hold on you with his arms, he lets his wings drift open and prays he didn’t overdo it with the feathers, begs whatever gods may be listening that the two of you can at least slow the fall somehow. And to his pure joy and bliss, his wings, though bleeding and burnt and painful, are still very much holding up and allowing him to fly.

Now if he can manage to get you to a hospital...you’ll be just fine.

#febuwhump #febuwhumpday8 #febuwhump2021 #hawks x reader #keigo x reader #whump #bnha x reader #mha x reader #hawks #keigo takami #keigo

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sohotthateveryonedied · 3 years

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You Gotta Fend for Yourself

Read here on AO3!

Summary:

Bruce is Tim's emergency contact. He gets a call to meet Tim at the ER.

“I’m looking for a patient.” The woman behind the ER desk looks bored as she eyes Bruce, takes in the pressed suit and diamond cufflinks. The way he fidgets, drumming his fingers on the desk and trying very hard not to look as anxious as he feels. It’s easier to reign in his worry when he’s wearing the cowl. “Name?” “Tim Drake.” “Give me a minute.” She types his name into the computer, and Bruce can’t help but wonder how she manages to type with such long fingernails. “Your son is in bed eight. It’s over there, against the far wall.” She points him in the general direction. Bruce considers correcting her on the fact that Tim is certainly not his son, but he doesn’t need to tell this complete stranger that. Let her think what she wants. He thanks her and goes where directed. His chest loosens when he finds Tim sitting on a medical cot, neither bleeding out from a gaping wound nor missing any limbs. Instead he’s playing some sort of racing game on his phone, indifferent to the bustling emergency room around him. An oxygen mask sits beside him, forgotten. He and Bruce should really have a conversation about the importance of listening to medical professionals. “Hey, kiddo.”

Tim looks up and his eyes go wide. “Bruce. You...actually came?” His voice is hoarse, like he’s been gargling sand. “Of course I did. I am your emergency contact, after all.” Tim blushes. “I told them not to call you. You really don’t need to be here if you’re busy, I can get a cab home. And I’m sure I can talk the doctors into letting me check myself out without an adult, so—” “It’s okay, Tim. Really. You actually saved me from a board meeting.” Tim doesn’t look at all reassured. Bruce sits on the side of the cot beside Tim, who moves over a few inches. “Your teacher told me you went into anaphylactic shock in the middle of geometry.” Tim rolls his eyes. “I got a candy bar from the vending machine and the wrapper forgot to mention there were walnuts in it. It’s not that big a deal.” “Oh, sure, not that big a deal. You just stopped breathing for two minutes. Totally normal.” “I’m breathing now, aren’t I?” Tim takes an exaggerated breath. “See? I’m fine. And, for the record, it was the teacher’s fault. I had my hand raised for a whole minute trying to tell her that I couldn’t breathe, and she didn’t even look at me. Eventually I just passed out.” Bruce blinks. “You raised your hand? While your life was in danger?” “I didn’t want to be rude.” Lord, beer me patience. “I’ll get you an EpiPen to carry with you from now on.” “I usually have one, but I used it up a couple months ago and kept forgetting to ask my dad for another one.” A shrug. “Don’t you keep one in your utility belt?” “That’s for civilians.” Bruce’s eyebrows crease. “It’s for keeping people safe, not just civilians. You’re a person, so I want you to use whatever you need to keep yourself from dying in the middle of class. Got it?” Tim nods, a little sheepishly. “Yes, sir.” “Good. Now, how are you feeling?” Tim flicks the IV tube. “Cortisone and a shot of epinephrine earlier. I’ll be fine.” Even so, Bruce can’t stop himself from checking Tim over anyway, just to be sure. He needs to see that Tim is okay with his own eyes. He feels Tim’s throat for any residual swelling, checks his pulse. “Can you breathe okay?” “Yep.” “What about your mouth, does it feel numb or tingly? Any swelling?” “No and no.” “Are you dizzy at all, nauseous?” “You do realize we’re in a hospital, right? Surrounded by actual doctors?” “Yes, and I don’t trust a single one of them unless their name is Leslie Thompkins, Alfred Pennyworth, or Bruce Wayne.” “You’re insane.” “Good. Maybe then you’ll stay alive long enough to see the new year.” Bruce takes out his cell phone and drafts the beginning of an email in his notes app. “I should call the school and give them hell for not looking after you. Or at least for not being more aware of their vending machine snacks.” He knew Tim never should have been allowed in a public school. That’s like locking the most perfect, innocent kitten in the world in a cage with rabid coyotes. Completely irresponsible. “You’re overreacting, B.” “You could have died.” Tim scoffs. “Stop being so dramatic. This isn’t even the worst allergic reaction I’ve had. My parents were terrible at remembering to tell the nannies about my walnut energy, so there were a lot of close calls.” Bruce should be more surprised at that information. After he sues the school for the wrongful almost-death of a student, he should sue Drake Industries just for the hell of it. “Where are your parents? Are they on their way?” Jack Drake is as disagreeable a man as disagreeable men get, but he’s always revving for conflict. Bruce will definitely be able to sway him to his side of this matter. They can bring it up to the board of education, draw up new regulations for the school’s allergy protocols. Tim scratches absently at the rash on his neck. Bruce swats his hand away. “Dad brought Dana on a business trip to Philadelphia. It was only supposed to last the weekend, but they decided to stay a few extra days.” “A few?” “Eleven, to be exact.” Yikes. Big yikes. “You at least called them, right? They’ll want to know you’re safe.” “I called Dad when I first got here, but he didn’t pick up so I left him a message. I’m pretty sure he got it, because Dana keeps texting me to make sure I’m okay and asking if they should come home early. Dad still hasn’t said anything, but I’m sure he’s worried too.” Even as Tim says the words, it’s clear he doesn’t believe them. Never mind, fuck Jack Drake. Bruce can find another parent to start an alliance with—one who actually cares about their kid. Maybe Crystal Brown is free tonight… Bruce flags down a passing nurse. “Can I get some discharge papers for my son, here?” Might as well throw that in, give himself some extra authority. Whatever gets them out of here quicker. “Thank god,” Tim says. He plucks out the IV and swings his legs off the bed. “I’m sick of this place. You can just drop me off at home and I’ll be all set?” “Drop you off? You’re coming home with me, Tim.” Was that part not clear? “It’s cool, really. I’ll be fine after some rest. You don’t have to look after me.” “I know I don’t have to. I want to.” Bruce thanks the nurse who brings over the discharge papers in record time. People really don’t appreciate nurses enough; he should donate a few million to boost their salaries. He pushes the clipboard into Tim’s hands. “Here, fill these out and we can get going. I’ll call ahead and have Alfred make supper.” “And then I can go home?” Bruce shrugs, eyes fixed on his phone screen as his thumbs fly. “You already have a room made up at the manor, so I don’t see why you can’t stay over tonight. Besides, I’d like to keep an eye on you, just in case.” Anaphylaxis can be a tricky thing. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re a mother hen?” “Once or twice.” “Well, they’re right.” Bruce snorts. He works more on his email draft to the school, making a mental note to censor out the swear words during revision. He’s getting flashbacks to years ago when Jason had a close call with some shrimp at a party for a museum opening. Bruce nearly decimated the catering company for not putting out warnings for potential allergens. “Tim?” “Hm?” “How come I’m your emergency contact?” Tim freezes. He doesn’t look at Bruce and twiddles the pen, quiet for a moment. “I don’t know. I guess I didn’t know who else to put? I figured it would never actually be needed, so it wasn’t like you’d ever find out about it anyway. But don’t worry, I’ll change it tomorrow so you don’t need to do this again.” “No,” Bruce says, a little too quickly. “Keep it. It’s...more logical for it to be me. And I really don’t mind.” “You sure? You don’t have to.” “I want to. Partners look out for each other, right?” Tim’s cheeks are flushed under the allergy-induced redness, but he nods. “Right.”

#whumptober 2020 #no.29 #emergency room #batfamily #batfam #tim drake #red robin #robin #idiot duckboy #bruce wayne #batman #batdad #dc comics #fanfiction #fanfic

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aloeboba · 2 years

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Wow, is it the 19th already? dang. Oh well. I definitely thought I would be posting a lot more this month but of course I had a case of the *Anxiety* which is a big yikes on my part. Anyways, this one is based off of real experiences (not fun ones) because that always happens when I end up in a less than happy situation with a cockroach. This one has been saved in my drafts for a while and I only just finished it in October, so I hope it’s ~*~*humorous*~*~ n stuff.

Prompt: Day 19 - 3am

Ship: Hitomina (Shinsou x Mina)

Word count: 1,817

I know this is a really rarepair but please no ship criticism or hate!

It was quiet in Hitoshi’s room. The lights were out and the only thing illuminating the space was the moon shining through his thin purple drapes. His dreams were pleasant, too.

Nothing disturbing or weird. Not something involving the philosophy of quirks or human society (he had too many dreams about that to the point where he thought it was a little concerning).

Hitoshi’s covers wrapped around his body nicely, keeping him warm and in comfort. He would trade a lot to have more nights like this.

Subtle, calm, sleepy, pleasant...

And suddenly that all ended when he snapped awake from his dreams.

His vision was blurry and he could feel something nudging him and probably staring at him.

“Shinsou... Shinsou...!” He heard a girlish voice whisper.

He groaned in response and squinted to focus on the face in front of him. Pink. “Hm?” Hitoshi tried to speak but his mouth was dry so he hummed instead.

“Hey, you’re awake!” She silently cheers, clasping her hands together.

He moved his neck to the side to get a better look at her face. “Ashido?” He mumbled. “What are you doing here?”

“So I need your help.” She begins with a hopeful gleam in her eye.

“With what? and why at...” He glances at his digital alarm clock on his desk. “3am?”

“I saw a roach in my bathroom.”

“What?”

“Cockroach. In my bathroom.” She says, something hidden in her voice. “I need your help killing it—or preferably you kill it.”

“Wait—“ Hitoshi sits up right, forcing the sleepiness right out of him. “Why?”

Ashido stares at him like he’s an idiot and he might as well be. “Shinsou,” she scoffs. “It’s a roach.”

He sighs. Right. “Why couldn’t you wake up Bakugou?”

She stares at him again. “Wake up Bakugou? I don't think so. He’d kill me before the roach.”

“Kirishima?”

“He’s not that manly.”

Hitoshi sighed once more. “Alright, ok. I’ll kill it.” He threw his covers off him.

“Oh, thank you, Shinsou!” The pink girl wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

“Uh-huh.” He crawls out of bed and lets Ashido lead the way to her room.

She opened her bedroom door and as soon as he was a few steps in, she slid behind him so he could go first. “Where is it?” He asks when she closes the door and she points to the bathroom.

Hitoshi turned the handle and flicked the light on, momentarily blinding the both of them, filing up the space with bright light. His eyes scan the smaller space until something catches the corner of his vision. But right when he was only expecting to see a measly sewage beetle, he shivers then jumps back, almost landing on the girl behind him. “Holy—“ He did not want to go near that.

The bug was seated on a brightly colored shampoo bottle by one of the far corners of the bathtub. “There’s something wrong with that.” Hitoshi says, eyeing it with disgust.

“If you kill it, you’ll be awarded the highest level of prizes!” Ashido sheepishly grins. “Never seeing it again.”

Good enough for me, Hitoshi thought, but the only issue is the fact that he didn’t want to go near it. “Shoe.” He says simply and moving his hand in a grabbing motion before Ashido ran to her closet for one of her gym shoes.

Hitoshi kept his distance from the monstrosity as he dug around under the sink for a can of Lysol or cleaner. He grabbed a can of Lysol and then locked eyes with the roach. “You got this, Shinsou!” Ashido cheered.

Lysol in one hand, he nudged closer to it, taking careful steps. He had to physically make himself extend his arm to spray in its direction while Ashido gave him a thumbs up as he did so.

He took a deep breath and tried not to scream as he finally sprayed it. The cockroach scuttled around frantically and fell into the bathtub, moving around back and forth trying to spot its attacker. Just when Hitoshi thought his job was done and he was going to leave to his room again, something fluttered underneath the roach's shell.

Oh, shoot. his brain whispers. The roach has frickin' wings.

The cockroach fluttered upwards and re-situated itself on the side of the bathtub. Ashido squealed, clearly panicked while Hitoshi screamed and jumped back again, and if this was a cartoon, he was sure he would have jumped into the pink girl's arms bridal-style. "It's still alive?!" Ashido yelped.

Hitoshi now felt extremely grossed out and didn't really want to put in the effort to kill it, not because he didn't want to, but because... well, it had wings. That changed everything. Hitoshi eyed it from some distance away, then the roach made eye contact. Ew. he shuttered. But not a moment later, and the thing was trucking down the side of the bathtub, attempting to get revenge on the person who sprayed it with scented disinfectant spray. A scream was building it's way to Hitoshi's throat. "Move the curtain! Move the curtain!" Ashido urged, pointing to the white shower curtain the bug was about to touch any second.

Hitoshi grabbed the curtain and brought it forward before the cockroach could crawl on it. The purple haired boy looked around on the tub. It's gone? he moved his head around and Ashido stepped forward, attempting to locate the roach. "Where'd it go..." she mumbled, sharing the boy's confusion.

"Teleportation quirk." Hitoshi suggested. Could bugs have quirks?

She shuttered, crossing her arms over her chest. "I guess it's gone." but before Hitoshi could agree, the dreaded thing crawled around the wall, too close to Hitoshi's face for him to feel comfortable. The two yelped in unison and stumbled away, both wrapping their arms around each other, seeking comfort.

The roach was now sizing them from it's place on the door frame, the other two--who's eyes were now the size of saucers--were gluing their eyes to it. "You think it'll try to attack us?" Ashido whispered.

If Hitoshi were in his right mind, and not high on adrenaline and sleepiness, he'd say 'no'. It was a stupid bug. But because he's not, Yes, he does think that. That thing will probably scuttled down the wall and shoot lasers at them.

The two teens awkwardly pulled their arms from each other and scooted closer to the door. "I'm too tired for this." Hitoshi muttered, standing up right. "I want it dead."

The girl sat up next to him, and then stared in the direction of the roach. "What if it has some special quirk--It's moving!" Ashido began to aggressively point at the large bug crawling up the wall.

Hitoshi tightened his grip on the Lysol can. "If it comes even close to touching my hair," Hitoshi lifted his arm up to spray it. "I will lose it and thoroughly blame it on you, Ashido."

He hit the button on the can and the cockroach began to flutter, to which he responded my covering his head and ducking while running back to the door. "When that thing's dead, remind me to pay you back." she stammers.

"Sure," he replies, watching the bug scuttle furiously to the border between the wall and the ceiling. "It's getting too high."

"You're a tree, you can reach it." she states.

"Yes, but that means I'll be closer to it." he says simply. "Meaning, I could spray it and it could fall down my shirt sleeve, or get in my hair, or, in general, touch me."

Ashido shivers again. "I guess you're right."

Hitoshi and the pink girl ended up huddled in the corner by the door and a good amount of feet away from the insect. "What do we do if it stays up there?" she asks in a quieter tone.

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it." Hitoshi shifts his weight. "But for now, I really don't want to go near it."

The girl nods along and focuses her dark eyes onto it.

Minutes passed after that with casual conversation between the two teenagers. Things like their current classmates ("Midoriya still breaking his bones?" "It's less, actually!"), the English homework they were supposed to have handed in that day ("Haven't touched it. I think that man is out to get us."), or basic questions like what's the weather going to be like (but they didn’t know what either because they never touched the weather app).

They might have been bonding.

And there was no suspicious activity from the large bug on the bright wall. Well. So they thought. "Shinsou, it's moving again!" Ashido grabbed the taller boy's arm and shook it to get his attention.

His eyes shot up like a bullet to look at the bug and clutched the Lysol can in his hand. The dark colored insect scuttled on the wall they were closest to and seemed to have locked it's seemingly non-existent eyes with the two for what felt like the tenth time and it might have been.

Hitoshi didn't want to be here right now. During the day, this probably would have been fine. But since it was currently around 3:30, it was not fine. "Ah, come on, Shinsou!" Ashido was pretty close to begging. "Be a man and spray it!"

Of course, she knew where her purple haired counter part was coming from--being scared and all--but she was getting tiered and freaked out by the size of the cockroach and wanted to sleep. "Oh my gosh--fine." he slumps, wearily approaching the creature. He extended his arm and pressed the release trigger and watched the bug squirm. "Ep!" the boy let out a scream that was only fit for 8 year-old of the opposite gender and stepped back frantically.

Hitoshi gathered all his strength to reach out again and hit it once more with the spray cleaner. The roach fell to its doom and landed on the hard tile floor. Mental Hitoshi was howling a fierce battle cry and trudging to his fallen enemy but since he couldn't do that because of the hour, he very quickly slapped it as hard as he could with the small gym shoe and let out another girlish shriek before pulling back again. "Yay!" Ashido cheered, clinging to the other boy with a wide grin spread over her face.

"Can I sleep now?"

Ashido nods quickly and tears off a stack of toilet paper to clean the crime scene up with. Hitoshi slipped out of the bathroom and was about to pass out again when Ashido called him. "Hey, Shinsou!" she flushed the toilet, ridding the world of the foul creature. "Thanks a bunch." her face was painted with her signature Ashido smile.

He gave her one last look. "Sure thing, Ashido." he left her room to find his own to slip into another deep slumber.

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mercuryonparklane · 3 years

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I seriously debated keeping this one in the drafts...

Okay, I felt compelled to analyze the timeline of all of Taylor’s rumored/alleged boyfriends (barring any that she supposedly dated pre-fame) and why I believe they could have been fake/pr setups...

Disclaimer: this is all speculative and is just my opinion. No one has to agree... we don’t all have to agree because really the only people who know the truth are Taylor and those she has shared it with. I do have a very skeptical view of the entertainment industry and pr, so that is a bias I will own up to. I especially think Taylor, for a very long time, was willing to play along with the pr side of things, but eventually reached a breaking point (as any normal human under that amount of pressure and scrutiny likely would). Whether that means she has faked all of her public relationships or some of them or just aspects of them... I can’t really, truly know that. So, just keep in mind that this is one little, insignificant person’s view of Taylor’s public relationships and that I do not personally know any of the people involved...

Don’t take this too seriously, peeps... I’ll even tag it as crack theory...

Joe J.: June/July-September/October 2008

If nothing else this feels like a typical pr setup of two young stars. He had Camp Rock, a Jonas Bros’ album and a tour and concert film to promote. Camp Rock came out on 6/20/2008. The Jonas Bros’ third album, A Little Bit Longer, was released on 8/12/2008. In August, Taylor joined the band on stage during the filming for a concert movie that would be released in February 2009.

Taylor had an album that was released just weeks after their alleged breakup. An album which contained a few songs that would be attributed to Joe J. due to the publicity surrounding their relationship. Hmm... what a great way to drum up interest in an album that includes quite a few heartbreak songs. Not saying I know that is the case, but they both had a lot to promote between June and November 2008.

Lucas T.: March-April/May 2009

He was in the Hannah Montana movie, which was released 4/10/2009. Taylor had a cameo in that movie and also wrote a song for the soundtrack. Lucas also played Taylor’s love interest in the mv for YBWM, which premiered 5/2/2009 on CMT. He was in one of her Myspace vlogs in April 2009. IMO, this was a setup to promote the Hannah Montana movie and the YBWM mv, but it didn’t really take off. Lucas later said they dated briefly, but he realized that he just saw her as a friend...

Taylor L.: August-December 2009

They played a couple in Valentine’s Day. In September, just days after the VMAs where KW interrupted Taylor on stage as Taylor L. stood a few feet away, Taylor went to an Owl City concert at the Bowery Ballroom where she met the man who would supposedly inspire “Enchanted”. Umm... “please don’t be in love with someone else”... even though I am currently dating Taylor L. and he is my forever crush, but like, I am totally crushing on you actually. I have no clue if any Swifties have ever picked up on that discrepancy.

Oh, and Taylor L. also “dated” Selena in early 2009 and I doubt Taylor would go there, even if they ended on good terms. I mean, it’s possible, but idk it seems unlikely to me.

John M.: December 2009-February 2010

I think Taylor admired him as a musician (this seems to have been mutual with John praising her talent multiple times) and she may have seen him as a mentor at first. I do not believe that anything happened between them beyond that. I think he was so thrown off by “Dear John” because of that. He was already tweeting in the spring of 2009, hinting at wanting to collaborate with Taylor. The album their duet was on came out in November 2009, right before they started “dating”. Although it wasn’t released as a single until June 2010.

Besides, Liz (friend or otherwise) has remained a fan of John and even went to his concert a few years back. So, either she didn’t care that he screwed one of her supposed good friends over or it didn’t go down how people were led to believe it did.

Jake G.: October 2010-December/January 2011

Unless this relationship started much earlier than everyone has been led to believe, it is very unlikely that ATW is about him. It certainly seems to have been written prior to the maple latte/scarf/sister’s house articles that were abundant after that pap walk. Either Taylor used him as a scapegoat for a song that wasn’t about him or he was a willing participant in a pr scheme to make sure people thought the song was about him.

He couldn’t have been setup with his costar, Anne H., because she was already in a long term, committed relationship. At the time Taylor was still good pr since she was still known as a kind of girl next door, all American type with genuine talent.

I’m not saying I know for a fact it was fake. I’m saying there are plenty of reasons why I think it was. Everyone has different perspectives... mine is that this was purely a pr setup.

Will A.: sometime in 2010 and/or mid or fall 2011-January 2012 or May (?) 2012

They were likely just friends, but people did think they were dating back then. The songs that people think he wrote about Taylor (”White Dress” and “Kiss Me Slowly”) were recorded in 2010. So, if she started dating him in September 2011, which people think because the dress she wore to his May 2012 birthday party was the one she is wearing on the “Begin Again” cover art, then those songs aren’t about her. About the party dress... Sarah B., who took the picture, was also friends with the Parchute guys, so maybe the photoshoot that the picture on that cover art came from happened earlier that day.

He was friends with Liz’s ex Jason and one of his best friends is still to this day very close friends with Liz, so that’s probably how he met Taylor. I think Taylor hung out with that crew a bit back then. AND those times Will and Taylor were seen hanging out in late fall/early winter 2011, Jason and/or the other friend were there. Yes, I am saying that Taylor was hanging out with Jason in November/December 2011, just a few months after he and Liz supposedly broke up. She was also still hanging out with Liz a lot at that time and after, though, so I think it was all good.

Conor K.: July 2012-September/October 2012

This was Taylor’s worst pr. If it was a real relationship... it is borderline predatory. If it is fake... still a big yikes... I don’t have much to say about this one. I think it was fake and an attempt at making him the muse for “Starlight” (how cute, this song she wrote about his grandparents sort of became about them), “Begin Again” (nevermind that the copyright record say the song was written in 2011), and EHC (nevermind that the song was written in May 2012). It would have been great pr, though, if he was a couple years older. Taylor should have fired Paula after this one... (because the public should have never known about it, real or fake).

Harry S.: November 2012-January 2013

Similar to all the others before (and after), there were “random” sightings, including a birthday trip to “the lakes” and blatant pr (go on and wear that fox sweater and paper airplane necklace, Taylor...). That NYE kiss, though...

Calvin: February 2015-May/June 2016

Taylor finally dropped her old publicist and brought on Tree. First step, was to erase the “boy crazy”/“man eater” label (and possibly the “professional beard” label) and become an independent woman who just wants to have fun with her gal pals. It got a bit gayer than expected (whether Kaylor was really a thing to some degree or not is irrelevant to the point). The gay rumors were actually catching on even faster and people were like “oh, that’s why she couldn’t keep a man” (sexist/homophobic as all of this is/was, ofc).

Enter Calvin... a playboy DJ who some might deem “tall and handsome as hell” (peeps, I am not really the best judge of a man’s attractiveness, so this is just how I think people see him). He seems sooo straight. I don’t know how else to say it. All of her other supposed boyfriends had gay rumors, whether or not those rumors were just people gossiping or had some basis in reality... I think he is the only one that doesn’t have them, that I know of anyway.

I know a lot of people think they were really together, but I think this was an attempt to have her in a more serious, long term relationship to counteract both the gay rumors (not necessarily as a cover for a woman because I don’t think all of the guys have been or need to have been covers for a secret relationship with a woman, it’s about appearing straight) and the “can’t keep a man” narrative that had followed her around. Even if they were in some sort of situationship (not what I think, just theorizing here), it wouldn’t have been a steady thing and they seemed to not like each other very much when all was said and done.

I still laugh that he said Taylor was the opposite of his type (and specified that he likes brunettes) in November 2014 and then he allegedly dated her for almost a year and a half, starting literally a few months after he made that comment. If that was a real relationship, he was either playing it cool when he said that or he misjudged her or Taylor was determined to date him because it was a challenge.

Either way, it seems like her team controlled the public narrative and maybe Calvin was okay with that at first, but over time it seemed like he wasn’t a big fan of that. Maybe that visit to the strip mall massage parlor was a bit of a rebellion...

At least they both got some royalties out of it...

Joe A.: September 2016-Present

Taylor’s team absolutely has control of the public narrative and he seems okay with that. He is a literal mirrorball. He is whatever Taylor supposedly says he is in her songs/whatever Swifties want him to be.

He likes to drop fun facts like how his family jumps into a freezing pond at Christmas or that he worked at a yogurt shop as a teenager. Whether they are real or not... he seems to be playing into the pr. Dropping little bits of information that will tie him to her songs... it is very “maple latte”/“paper airplane necklace”/dark jeans and Nikes... OR Taylor is just taking the few facts people know about him and using it to pin songs on him.

If he is a beard (which imo he likely is), I think he gets along with Taylor and doesn’t mind the minimal pr of it all.

I don’t think he is WB, either way...

Again this is just my view of things. This has no bearing on which women Taylor may have dated. I could do a separate post on what I think that timeline might look like.

One point I will reiterate is that I do not think that a beard would always be a cover for a secret relationship with a woman. I think it sometimes is, but it can be more of a general cover for someone who is gay. So many people think Taylor is the straightest person who has ever lived simply because of her public dating record. I mean, heteronormativity and homophobia also play a big part in that...

Edit: I completely skipped Tom lol. I just don’t buy that one either. Maybe he thought it would be good publicity or maybe he was led on to think it was more real than it was or maybe he was just having fun. Idk. All kinds of articles written about them at the time included some caveat about how they seemed fake or were maybe filming something...

#gaylor crack theory

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sortasirius · 3 years

Note

I'm sorry, this must be old for you, but I went offline just after the Spanish dub thing for like college stuff, and I missed the second meltdown apparently XD (dying inside). Has Jensen still not said anything on the finale? And I was looking through your answered asks- what happened with the scripts?

Also slight noob question - where is the 'Still beautiful, still Dean Winchester' line from?

(I can't believe the CW still hasn't given a genuine explanation for the trash finale, like even after 4 months, I'm still constantly stuck checking for updates on this godfOrsaKEN-)

Me forgetting about this message until I opened tumblr on my laptop

Honestly what a life you’ve been living, I hate to catch you up because living in ignorance must be so great.

There have truly been like 654654654151 meltdowns since the Spanish dub, at this point there’s more to season 16 of SPN than there was of 15 lmao. To keep it short: script leaks, sexy silence, Stacey Abrams is a heller, Jared sticking his foot in his mouth...repeatedly, Jared joining an MLM, Misha got a cameo, Jimmy Novak, the dead band Kansas, Dean and Cas got married on Valentine’s Day. There’s more, there’s tons more, but honestly...I can’t even remember all of it anymore.

So Jensen said like ONE thing about the finale a couple of months ago, they spoke briefly on it prior to the Georgia runoff elections when they did a live Zoom with Stacey Abrams, but overall he has said virtually nothing. He’s acknowledged it here and there but not anything to really write home about. Jared on the other hand...well, he’s praised the finale a good amount. Not terribly surprising when he literally has another show on the CW now, but the biggest thing is that he said something that made it seem like Dean dying was the best outcome, as Sam could “move on” and “have a life” without him. Mad fucked tbh.

There’s also been a lot with scripts. That’s where “still beautiful, still Dean Winchester” comes from. King Bobo wrote that into the 15x18 script, as Cas looks at Dean before the big confession. Truly sickening how in love they are.

A few weeks ago people got their hands on the finale script and, yikes. There was a lot that was simply “omitted” from the script (this was a final draft, things that were supposed to be shot). And uh, well, almost everything that was “omitted” was...Dean. His half of the finale montage, omitted. Six scenes after his death. Omitted. Charlie, Jody, Eileen, Rowena were supposed to be included in the finale, reacting to the news of Dean’s death, that was IN THE SCRIPT, not omitted, but it was still cut in post.

Someone also got their hands on a “Tombstone” script and it says in the script that Dean is happy for the first time since Cas’ death when Cas comes back (wbk but it was literally in the script).

There’s now a group of people that are trying to get more scripts? Idk I don’t have much info on that, just that they’ve gotten some things from s14 and there’s been some more soft DeanCas moments out of them too.

Misha has a Cameo and said Cas can do better than Dean (lmao). There’s also been some other things he’s said, the majority of which are soft things about Cas and/or sweet things to fans, nothing too too crazy there (at least that I can remember, I have the memory of a goldfish and there’s SO MUCH).

Yeah there’s really been no explanation, a production gift that went out a couple of months ago said there was supposed to be a big party in Heaven where Kansas would play (why are they dead? who knows), but really there’s been nothing concrete. If you want my opinion, it truly seems like the script was written and rewritten to exclude more and more of the found family aspect, and then it was completely scrubbed in post-production cuts and shooting choices.

Well...that’s a lot lmao. If you have any other questions (I’m sure you do I’m so sorry you’re coming back to a literal decade’s worth of news in a couple of months) you can ask me anything, as always.

#anonymous #lilly answers #spn #bruh i am so sorry lmao

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actuallylorelaigilmore · 3 years

Text

i finished rewatching the 10th kingdom this morning, my first rewatch in many years (it’s such an old miniseries, no streaming service has claimed it, so i had to track it down first). since i was only sixteen when it aired i got to ship the enemies to lovers couple in that uncomplicated uncritical way i loved everything that i loved growing up, so seeing it now as an adult was very interesting.

interesting as in, i still love it for being a thing i loved back then, but watching it now i just kept thinking that it has an excellent premise, and it’s executed...not nearly as well. what it has to say about sexuality, and female power, and so many things that i care about now--well, a lot of it makes me feel gross. and like i get now why i ended up so confused about all that, when i only had tv to teach me.

but this is also relevant because i’ve been editing my very first novel, the idea of which i started working on back when i was sixteen, and the drafts of which started in my twenties, and all i can see are its flaws. that’s the point of revision, and here and there i have a single sentence of dialogue that i still appreciate, but mostly i’m reading through it with a critical eye and thinking ‘if i were reading this as a book someone else wrote, i would think it was so bad.’

and i don’t even mean that as a bad thing!! of course my early drafts are bad. i’m (i hope) a better writer now. i have so much more practice, thanks to fanfic and months of drafting different novels with no care for quality. all that matters to me now, when i look at my work and i see no character development, structural plot problems, weird pacing issues, and spotty worldbuilding, is that recognizing the flaws means being able to fix them.

anyway, even as i was reliving my teenage love of the 10th kingdom i was watching it and cringing at all the weird sexual innuendos that were paired with almost no physical affection, like they had a network standard to work around somehow, and thinking about how the story didn’t make nearly as much sense as i remembered it making...and it seems to me that the writing made it onscreen expecting the actors to fill out all the gaps and make it work.

clearly they did, enough for a month of tv to air and a fanbase to develop including impressionable me--but it made me feel weirdly better about my revision struggles, because stuff that makes me cringe is still beloved by lots of people. my flaws can’t be that bad, i was reminded, because everything has flaws, even just in hindsight.

relatedly, the only thing getting me through my rereading of old drafts (because i struggle to read, not because my drafts are yikes) is the fact that i want to be doing other things. i have soooo many gifs to make. i have such a post hoard to queue up to bring my blog back to life. i have asks to answer and yarn waiting to be knit and books to read and tv shows to watch...but i’m holding all of that back while i dig through the basic beginning of my editing work, because i know if i interrupt it midway i’ll never finish it.

as a method, it’s working well enough, but it’s so funny to me actually that every time i think of something else fun i want to do, i remind myself ‘not until you finish taking notes!’ and then i get a bit more done. if that’s what it takes, at least i found successful motivation.

#rambling #the 10th kingdom #writer problems #writing #life stuff

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khadij-al-kubra · 4 years

Text

Worst Impressions are the First (ch 7)

Main Characters: Logan, Patton, Roman, Virgil (Human AU)

Pairings: Romantic LAMP

Word Count: 5036

AO3

<=PREV

NEXT=>

Author’s (longer than usual but it’s for good reason) Note: *The Apocalypse—2020. Zoom in on a plague rat turned writer. She has survived thesis projects, getting a Master’s degree, burnout, writing and illustrating a children’s book, being a slave for the U.S. census bureau, months of overthinking anxiety spirals, and one or two incidents involving an asshole skunk. But now, battle weary yet unwavering in her love of art and love for her loyal readers, this onesie-clad tea slurping book dragon....has finally arisen from the ashes*

I LIVE BITCHES!!!!!!! And I am SO SORRY for taking so long!!! I’ve been hard at work, been editing like a mad woman, and I even have a beta now! The gorgeous and talented @humbletortoise So I am OFFICIALLY off hiatus!!! *cue confetti canon*

Also, one of the biggest reasons I’ve taken so long to update is because I’ve spent the past month or so essentially retconning the fuck outta this fic. I realized looking back at earlier chapters in this story that, although I was proud of them at the time and greatly appreciate the positive reactions, they were...not my best work. (shitty first drafts if I’m being honest) That’s because, at the time, I was trying to split my attention between writing this fic and working on grad school stuff, which resulted in my writing for this not being as best of quality as it could have been upon first posting. This story deserves my best, and so do all of you. So now I hope to give you that.

I encourage you to go back and re-read the previous chapters up till now (trust me, they’re near unrecognizable to the first drafts, but in the best way). Or if you don’t feel like doing that, you can just continue on from here. totally cool. For the sake of convenience and my own sanity, I’ll attach the AO3 Link to this fic from the start. I may also start just posting chapter updates on tumblr but only have the link to the chapter and add my reader tags. Again, for the sake of my sanity because Tumblr is a bastard when it comes to posting fics. (Also PLEASE let me know if there are any tagging issues if anyone’s on my tags list; yet another reason i’m considering just linking my fics in the future)

Anywho, without further ado, at LOOOOOONG last, here is the next chapter!

Chapter 7 - (POV Roman)

When Roman had offered to walk with Logan to class, it was only partly out of an innate sense of chivalry; a side of himself that he rarely got to show on account of being a socially awkward gay disaster. Though mainly, he saw it as a chance to get to know his second soulmate better.

He certainly hadn’t expected two long minutes of civil but silent walking. Well, as silent as a stroll through their school could be with its usual racket buzzing around them. With a vocabulary as big as the continents of Africa and Eurasia combined, you’d think Logan would be more of a conversationalist. Alas. He merely walked in step with Roman. They glanced over at each other every so often, but Logan stayed tight lipped and seemingly impassive; fiddling with his bumblebee hair pin every now and again. Damn. Looked like he was going to have to make the first move.

Roman was bad at this. How did people usually…Oh yeah, common interest. That’s a thing. He wracked his brain for some sort of ice breaker. One that’d make him look cool and calm or, something, in front of Logan. He was a fairly decent student though not quite mathletes level. He could compliment his outfit maybe? Was that too forward? Too shallow? Maybe he could find common ground? That was as good a place to start as any.

“So! So uhh…What kind of music do you like?” Roman asked. Yeah, that’s good. Everybody likes music.

Logan glanced at him. “Can you be more specific?”

Roman’s brow furrowed. “I mean, like, your favorite genre of music to listen to?”

“Classical,” said Logan in a clipped tone.

“That’s cool. I don’t really listen to classical myself.”

Logan only hummed, his face neutral. Roman was really hoping for more than that. A few awkward seconds passed, then Logan spoke up.

“Are you perhaps a fan of the classic Sherlock Holmes novels?” He inquired.

“Um, I haven’t gotten around to the books yet, actually,” Roman said, scratching his earlobe. “I mean, I’ve heard great things about them. And I’m a big fan of the Robert Downey Jr. movies.”

“Ah. I see.” Logan said, giving him the judgiest side eye.

Come on, Roman thought. Give me something to work with. “Oh! What about theater?”

“What a frustratingly vague inquiry.”

“Well, excuse me for trying to get to know my soulmate a little better.” Ay come jode, work with me here, man!

Logan sighed. “While I understand and appreciate your intention, I believe ‘getting to know someone’ as you put it, requires a certain level of specificity. Anything less indicates a somewhat shallow level of sincere interest, and I greatly despise shallow conversation. That said, if you’re inquiring as to whether or not I enjoy theater, no. I don’t understand the concept of professional make believe, though I appreciate it as an art form. I assume you’re a fan?”

Is he seriously implying I’m shallow? Roman groused, pushing his red frames up the bridge of his nose. Ugh, forget it Roman. He’s throwing you a bone here. Take it.

“Obviously,” said Roman, gesturing dramatically. “I mean I’m no actor—Eesh. No. Yikes—but everything about the artform enthralls me. And I like all kinds of genres and eras of plays, from Shakespear to Ruhl, but musicals are by far my favorite, because like, there’s so much you can do with them design wise. I mean just look at how groundbreaking Hamilton was.”

For a second, Logan’s face actually softened, his eyes lighting up. But just as Roman thought they were finally about to make some progress, his stony companion was back to wearing that platinum puss.

“Ah. How… original.”

Roman blinked. “Are you saying my tastes are basic?”

“Well, yes.”

Augh! Okay. Yep. I don’t like him. Patton was going to be so disappointed, and Roman was too. He’d wanted so badly to get along with all his soulmates, but Logan was a snob! Way less intimidating than Virgil and his ilk, but still a jerk. I wonder if soulmarks can make typos or something? Thank the stars they’d already arrived.

Roman and Logan filed in with the rest of the class for seventh period. Somebody had the liberty of opening a window– the AC was still busted in this classroom– so for once there was actually a decent breeze cutting through the usual mucky Florida humidity. Still smelled like it would probably rain later. Good thing Roman had packed an umbrella just in case, Mom’s orders. His hair looked too good today to be wrecked by frizz.

Roman took a seat at his desk, running distracted fingers over the carved letters in the wood while he mulled over his predicament. Just look at him over there, thought Roman as he glared at Logan, not two rows away from him. Sitting with his hands clasped on the desk all smug—of course he’d be near the front—and with such disturbingly good posture. What is he, a robot? Who is he to call my interests basic, the NERVE! And okay, sure, like Hamilton, sometimes I get over excited and shoot off at the mouth. But great Zeus, does that guy show passion for ANYTHING besides academics? Roman blew a raspberry, plopping his head in his hands.

He always thought soulmates were supposed to get along, even as just friends for life. Balancing each other out, bringing out the best in you and forming a deep connection—that was the whole point. He sighed to himself. Cymbals clashed less than he and Logan did.

He was stirred from his brooding by the bell. Apparently Mr. ‘Call-me-Terrence’ Williams had materialized without him noticing. Okay fine, he should probably pay more attention, but he was having a crisis here.

“Afternoon everyone,” Terrence greeted in that measured, upbeat tone of his.

He draped his navy blue blazer over the back of his desk chair and rolled his shirt sleeves to the elbows. Roman pitied the poor guy; he had to teach sauna of a classroom all day. He could see the glisten of sweat on his teacher's smooth forehead as he wrote things on the board. Yet he still kept a pleasant attitude towards his students.

“Alright class!” Terrence started, “Today we’re covering the next section on the American Revolution. Specifically, the Battle of Yorktown...”

Roman mentally punched the air. My time has come. He opened his textbook to the right page but didn’t bother looking at it. He already knew most everything about Yorktown. Not just because he’d listened to the Hamilton soundtrack fifteen and a half million times, but also because he’d done actual research on the event and time period that the musical took place; There was always the off chance he’d get to stage crew or, heck, even dramaturg the show. He liked to be prepared.

“So the battle of Yorktown took place in 1781, but a great deal of its success was thanks to the French Allies. Many especially aided in fighting the British Troops surrounding New York. Now who can tell me where the French Soldiers first landed?”

Roman half raised his hand. He was pretty sure he knew the answer.

“Logan.” Terrence called.

Roman turned to Logan desk, where his hand was held high and mighty.

“The French Ally ships first landed in Rhode Island, then made their way to Chesapeake Bay,” said Logan, adjusting his glasses. Not even a hint of second guessing in his voice.

“That’s right!”

He almost missed the quick smirk on Logan’s frustratingly pretty face. Look at that smug—thinks he’s so smart...Okay yes, he is smart, but he doesn’t have to be a show off about it. Terrence continued through the passages, calling on a student every now and again to review. Of course, Logan got called on most and he got every answer right. Roman didn’t feel like raising his hand anymore.

“Of course there were many turning points in the revolution, but Hamilton’s return to the field for Yorktown was a key point.” Terrence continued on. “And keep in mind- this was a man who up till now had never been in a position of command before. Not to mention the mental strains he must’ve been under, especially having had to miss the birth of his son Philip, the first of three children he had.”

Wait a sec. “Well, that’s not right.”

Even though he’d muttered, apparently Mr. Terrence still heard him. “Come again, Roman?”

Shoot. “Um, I said,” Stop sounding timid, you know you’re right. “I said that was, um, wrong.”

The whole class turned to him. Oh great, history class has its eyes on me. Roman cleared his throat and tried to look taller.

“What I mean is: Hamilton had eight kids, not three. And on top of that, Phillip was born a few months after they won the Revolution, not during, so Hamilton didn’t miss the birth of his son. I mean sure, it’s a small thing, but the devil’s in the details as they say. Heh.”

Terrence gave the most insultingly bemused look. And Roman definitely heard a few kids snickering behind him. He glanced quickly at the culprits and felt his ears go hot. This is what he got for putting himself in the spotlight.

“Roman, I applaud you for participating in the class discussion,” Their teacher started gently, “but I’m afraid you’re wrong on this one. If you read your textbook close you’d see in the fifth paragraph where it mentions from one of his later letters—“

“Actually Mr. Williams, if I may, Roman is correct.”

Roman saw Logan at his desk, one hand raised while the other adjusted his neck scarf. Was the teacher’s pet actually… backing him up?

“It is a common misconception that Alexander Hamilton only had two children, even more so modernly, what with the musical having only named two of them. However Roman has clearly done his research on the plays historical accuracies, which is more than I can say for some.”

Logan shot a cool but scathing look at their recently snickering classmates and they withered. Roman fought the urge to point and laugh aloud. He did however stick his tongue out real quick. What? He could be shy and petty at the same time.

“My guess,” Logan continued, “is that this textbook edition is also either misprinted or outdated, judging by the publication date in the copyright section.”

Brows furrowed, Terrence looked at the textbook laid open on his desk. He flipped back to the front, before pulling out his cellphone—“I’m the teacher, I’m allowed to do this. You guys aren’t.”—and after what Roman guessed was a quick Google search, their teacher looked up. His eyebrows drawn in a ‘hm, well damn’ expression.

“Looks like you’re right, Roman. And thank you Logan for bringing to my attention about the textbooks. I’ll have to talk to the principal about hopefully getting some updated materials. But we’ll see how that goes,” Terrence, muttered the last part, though Roman was close enough to catch it. Terrence cleared his throat and moved back to the board. “Maybe if we call on assistance from the inside. Much like how the Sons of Liberty sent in Hercules Mulligan to spy on the British...”

“Perhaps if we knew of an immigrant who was unafraid to step in,” Logan said just under his breath.

No one else seemed to notice the reference, but when Roman did, he felt like a mini volcano about to burst rainbow lava. Apparently there was a lot more to his soulmate than first meets the eye; and now that he knew, Roman was determined to see more of it. The rest of class passed quickly and everyone filed out to the halls as the first bell for the last class period of the day rang. Roman made sure to catch up to Logan on the way out and staccato tapped him on the shoulder.

“Hey, Logan?” He said.

When Logan turned, he swore time slowed down for a moment. The brilliant boy’s skirt flared around his waist, and somehow his skin glowed even under the dull, inconsistent school lights. His posture was erect yet natural, he could have been raised among nobility. Amidst the stench and clamor of loud sweaty students, Logan was as poised and striking as the goddess Athena. Oh...

“Yes, Roman?” Logan asked.

Roman gulped. “I uh, just wanted to thank you for backing me up in there.”

“Thanks are unnecessary,” Logan said. “I detest when someone is shamed by other students for speaking up in class, regardless of whether or not they have the correct information.”

“Well regardless, thanks for coming to my aid in the face of academic danger.”

“Dramatic, but my pleas—oof!”

A hurried passerby bumped into Logan from behind, rushing off with a half-assed ‘sorry’. Logan, caught off guard, stumbled right into Roman’s arms. The two looked at each other, cheeks filling with heat. Roman caught a whiff of something faintly floral on Logan, something natural– a lavender and honeysuckle perfume, perhaps. It was heavenly. They were still in the middle of foot traffic though, so he maneuvered them to the side. Which was tricky since Logan was still so close to him and also a good two inches taller with the heels.

“Well,” Roman flashed his pearly whites. “Seems you’ve fallen for me.”

Logan pulled away, but his lips quirked upwards in a teasing smirk. “Oh please, I merely stumbled into you.”

“Ah, but stumbling is the first step towards being swept off your feet.”

“Bold words from an abashedly charming homunculus in such an… eye catching ensemble.”

Did he call me charming!? He composed himself, “Hey, don’t let the sweater vest fool you. I may be short but I’ve got guns.”

“Aaah. But mind over muscle, as they say. Do you find yourself up to the task?”

“Only if it’s you, my brainy blossom.”

Roman’s class was in the other direction, but Logan didn’t need to know that. They walked through the halls, conversing. class was still in the next ten or so minutes, but Roman was having fun. Banter with Logan felt surprisingly easy. Natural like they’d been at it all their lives.

“By the way, was that a ‘Guns n’ Ships’ reference I overheard, pastel poindexter?” Roman asked.

Logan cleared his throat. “It… may have been, yes. I found myself unable to resist toppling the figurative dominos.”

“In other words, you seized the opportunity you saw,” Roman said, matching his own reference to the source’s cadence, which got a chuckle out of Logan.

“Precisely. Under more casual circumstances, I may have even recited Lafayette’s part.”

“You can rap? You can rap Guns n’ Ships? Like, the whole thing, no tongue twists?”

Logan stopped for a moment, turned to Roman. The taller boy cleared his throat, and after a moment wherein he seemed to mentally restrain himself, he simply adjusted his glasses. “I have an appreciation for poetry.”

Roman blinked rapidly. Holy shit, he’s an even bigger nerd than I am. He definitely needed to see that at some point.

They turned a corner, stopping just outside of the science room. Some students were going in to take their seats, and the teacher was already making notes on the board. Logan pulled an AP Physics book from his backpack, but made no move to leave, much to Roman’s delight.

“So then,” Roman leaned against the eggshell wall, “How come you acted so indifferent earlier and called my tastes basic? Oh, and I think I remember you also implied I was shallow?”

Okay, yeah, he was still kind of salty about that. But then he saw the shamed look on the nerd’s face, and Roman wished he could have taken it back. Logan looked at his shoes then back at him.

“To be candid I was… hesitant to show the full extent of my enthusiasm. In case you thought I’d be—I believe ‘being the most’ is the term— it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve caused someone to lose interest in conversing with me due to informational overload. I nearly bored my Aunt Patricia to sleep once talking about a fascinating article on jellyfish. And considering how I blundered our initial meeting—“

“Pfft, ya think?” He mentally slapped himself again when Logan went tight-lipped and turned to go. “No, no, wait. I—I’m sorry. Truly. ...Truth is, I was no gentleman either. I’m not always great at thinking before I speak. It’s why I’m so awkward around people. Takes a while for my true charming nature to shine through.”

“Clearly. Still, you show a level of interpersonal aptitude that I, well, lack.” Logan fiddled with his hair pin again and a stray hair came loose. “Reading people and expressing emotions has never really been—It’s something I struggle with.”

Much as Logan tried to maintain his cool composed posturing, Roman could tell that this was something that really bothered him. He tried so hard to seem put together and confident and serious, but really he was just as awkward and insecure as anyone. Roman smiled softly and stepped closer to Logan, reaching up to tuck the loose ebony strand behind his ear.

“Hey, everyone’s got things about themselves they can work on. Including me,” Roman smiled. “And believe me when I say that I will never judge you for being passionate about something you like. So if you ever want someone to ramble about jellyfish or Sweeney Todd to or—I dunno, calculators or something?—I��m all ears.”

Logan’s cheeks went pink and he gave a hesitant yet sincere smile. “That’s...very kind of you, Roman. And coincidentally, I also greatly enjoy Sweeney Todd. The use of iambic pentameter and alliteration to give a succinct synopsis to the story in just the first sentence alone is pure brilliance.”

“Right!? I mean the man’s a mad genius. I’m dying to design sets for one of his musicals someday. Like last year? I came up with the concept of having the Sweeney Todd sets done in a way that highlights the class differences with the characters.” Roman went into a small three minute ramble regarding the specifics before he cut himself off abruptly. Logan was blinking rapidly, a look of mild shock crossing his feature. Roman nearly started sweating; Had he messed this up again?

“That… that’s ingenious”

Roman’s ears were burning. Ohmygosh!Ohmygosh!Ohmygosh!

“Hey, Logan!” They both startled and turned to an impatient cheerleader with a ginger undercut and they/them pronoun pin shaped like a coffin. “What’re you doing just standing out in the hall, ya dork? Oh, hey Roman.”

“Uh. Hey, October,” Roman said, waving awkwardly to them.

“I told ya, Red, you only get to call me that when we’re working on a show.”

“Wait, October? Red? You two know each other?” Logan asked, brow arching.

“Kind of. They sometimes help out with costumes for the drama club,” said Roman. And they have terrible timing. I mean seriously Tobes, we were having a moment.

“Come on Lo, class is about to start, and you promised to go over my homework with me real quick beforehand. See ya ‘round, Ro.” Toby grabbed Logan’s hand and pulled him into the classroom. “You can fill me in on what you were doing with Red later.”

Logan followed his—apparently—friend into their classroom, but he shot Roman an apologetic look over his shoulder. Roman bounced a bit on the balls of his feet before following halfway into the room. Logan was in his seat with Toby showing him an open notebook. A teacher in a tight grey hair bun was writing on the board. Students at their seats were chatting, and some looked up at the short dork in red who burst in. For once Roman ignored them, his mind set on one last attempt at wooing his green skirted genius while he still had the nerve.

“Hey, Logan,” he said. “I’ve also got some great layout designs for an Into the Woods set. If you’re interested, maybe we can meet up after school and I can show them to you? Maybe we talk a bit more over iced lattes or something?”

“Excuse me, Mr. Prince, seventh period starts in five minutes,” said the teacher. “Unless you’ve suddenly transferred to my class, I suggest you stop distracting my favorite student and get going.”

“I’ll be gone in just a second,” he said. “Well?”

Logan smoothed the silky fabric of his pink scarf and said, “That sounds optimal, Roman. I’ll meet with you. By the first floor water fountain perhaps?”

Roman grinned. “I shall be counting the minutes.”

“Mr. Prince,” said the teacher with a warning glare.

Roman blew a kiss at Logan and then ducked out of the doorway. Was he embarrassed of himself? Oh definitely. Did he regret it? Absolutely not. He felt ten inches tall.

Now to complete the quest of making it to class in time. He slid off a shoulder strap to unzip his classic Mickey backpack, getting out the notebook and the relevant homework. He found them amidst the mess of spiral notebooks, granola bar wrappers, two textbooks and rainbow sticky notes. But something was missing from his folder.

“Where are those– it should be here.” He could’ve sworn he had his stapled the blocking notes in his folder. No, wait, the last place he saw them was— “Ah shoot! I left them in the tech closet again.”

Under normal circumstances, Roman would’ve grabbed them after school, but the auditorium was locked on weekends. He’d have to wait till Monday to get them and that just wouldn't do! he wanted to show Logan his notes today! I’ll bet David Korins never has these kinds of problems. Okay, okay. Still got four minutes. He could rush to the auditorium, grab the notes, and then head straight to class. I should have enough time, right? Right. Besides it was only Spanish Class, he was already pretty fluent after all those summers visiting his grandparent in Nicaragua. He spent most of class time dreaming up blocking notes anyway.

Despite not being totally convinced by his own argument, Roman immediately turned on his heel and started running in the opposite direction. After a teacher told him no running in the halls, Roman power walked through the halls with a skip in his step and a song in his heart, feeling absolutely gay in both senses of the word. Logan had actually called his idea ingenious! And the way those sharp eyes softened just for him- he would squeal if not for the fact that it would draw too many eyes to him. The halls were still filled with a few stragglers rushing to the last class of the day, and he was already trying not to get caught being late for class.

Now he knew how Maria felt in West Side Story. Y’know, before Act 2. Oh sure, they’d gotten off to a shaky start, but as the Bard’s adage on the course of true love said; and Roman felt it in his gut that this was certainly the start of true love. Not just with brilliant Logan but also with soulful Patton as well. He didn’t know how an awkward geek like him ever got so lucky in the soulmate department…Then again, there was still the matter of Virgil. So maybe not so lucky.

Roman touched his arm, remembered flustered yet flattering purple words. I know they both said Virgil is secretly sweet and I can sympathize with the terrors of closet town, but COME ON! Virgil? Really? That gloomy gladiator? There had to be a mistake in that. After all, Patton liked to see the good in everyone. Logan was much more of a skeptic, but he does seem to have a blind spot with sarcasm. Maybe Virgil was messing with them somehow. Even if he’s not a jerk jock, the guy’s still kind of a creepazoid; with his dark eyes and cheeta-esq gait and those probably huge muscles hidden under that bulky jacket and big hands...

His gay disaster train of thought came to a merciful halt as he reached the auditorium. Roman pushed open the doors, took a pause to breathe in the quiet comfort of this chapel of the arts. Okay yeah, chapel was maybe a little kind for the school’s auditorium which doubled as the drama Club’s rehearsal space/prop closet backstage/Mx Joan’s unofficial office because the school didn’t fund the arts programs enough. Even so this space was Roman’s sanctuary. The place where he could help create magic from the shadows, bring stories of those gone and living to life. Here, Roman found something of a community with his fellow backstagers, glee club losers, and budding thespians (the nice ones). So he loved every squeaky stage plank, every duck taped seat cushion and every speck of dust that floated in the spot lit air like fairies.

Mx. Joan wasn’t around for once, thankfully. Probably in the teacher’s lounge or rendezvousing with the school nurse or something. They were pretty chill and Roman knew he was their favorite student, but the choir director/drama club moderator/music teacher (this school really needs to fix its funding habits) wouldn’t have been too keen on Roman being deliberately late for class.

Roman walked down the aisle and to the side room by the stage. It was originally a janitor’s closet, but their club moderator transformed it into a ‘Crew Only’ Storage Unit… Okay it was still a closet, but with less bleach and more coils. This was where they kept important equipment for semester shows, like the lighting and sound boards, along with other supplies. Roman made a quick mental note to get more gaffer tape later, seeing their supply was low.

He looked through the small pile of scribbled and highlighted sheets with the lighting cues for the spring show. I’ve really gotta get a binder for these…Ah-Ha! Here you are! Roman pulled out the stapled sheets titled ‘Into the Woods Dream Set’ and carefully shoved them into his bag. Perfect timing too. He might just be able to make it to class after—

RIIIIIIIIIIING

“GAH!”

What the heck? He could’ve sworn he was alone in there, but that yelp just now said otherwise. Up close, Roman saw that the curtains were rustling, accompanied by sounds of heavy breathing and moaning, yet not a footstep to be seen or heard.

Holy SHIT, this place IS haunted! I KNEW that backdrop fiasco last semester wasn’t caused by cheap slit plywood. My supplies are the best quality allowance money can buy. Great Macbeth’s bloody knife, I TOLD Kai we should've sprung for a ghost light! Remus always teased him for being superstitious but look who’s laughing now.

He dashed back into the crew closet and grabbed the heavy push broom leaning in the corner. Roman Prince was NOT about to be caught unawares and possessed by the ghost of a disgruntled student without a fight. He would defend his domain of imagination!

Roman slowly climbed the stage steps, wielding his broom like a bow staff, turned the curtain corner where the noises were coming from and was about to release a war cry on the—

“Virgil?”

Roman nearly dropped his weapon at the sight of Virgil Alighieri—star athlete, object of his fears and supposed soulmate—curled in on himself trembling and crying.

His jacket was pulled over his head like a hood, yet Roman could see the tear stained face peeking out from underneath. Virgil’s eyes were squeezed tight, making the dark circles he’d never noticed before more prominent. There was no denying the athlete had muscle but he was more lithe—thin enough for Roman to wonder if the guy ate enough. Virgil’s trembling could rival a chihuahua, shaky hands clutching his knees, and he was clearly in the midst of a bad panic attack.

Roman had built Virgil up in his mind as being like some odd combination of Hades and Ares. The strong silent wolf within his pack of jocks, a surging thunderstorm just waiting for the right nerd to come along and piss him off enough to strike down like the bolt of Zeus.

Someone to be afraid of.

But now? Seeing him in this state, all alone and whimpering like a wounded animal...it broke Roman’s heart.

He set the broom down gently and carefully crouched down in front of Virgil. “Virgil,” he said softly. “Virgil, can you hear me?”

Virgil let out a breathy sob but otherwise didn’t seem to register him. Just how long had he been sitting here like this?

Roman was at a loss for what to do. Sure he knew plenty of people with anxiety but never saw someone having an actual panic attack before. He did know that if he didn’t help the other calm down soon, Virgil was liable to pass out. He’d never wanted to hug someone so badly in his life. Roman tentatively reached out a hand but stopped. What if touching him makes it worse? What if I startle him so badly he actually has a heart attack!? Maybe I should get the nurse. But I can’t just leave him like this.

He caught sight of the colorful soulmarks written on Virgil’s arm. Saw his own harsh thoughts: ’Dios mio, he’s staring right at me—like he wants to punch my face!’

Roman took his shame and forged it into steel. I won’t abandon you...my soulmate.

Virgirl’s let out a hiccuped cry, and this gave Roman an idea. Something from back when he was a child. It was probably stupid and a long stretch, but it was all he could think of. He readjusted himself so that he was now sitting right next to Virgil, making sure not to startle him. Roman cleared his throat, then as softly as he could, he began to sing.

“Come stop your crying, it’ll be alright.

Just take my hand, hold it tight.”

Roman one and carefully gentled his hand over Virgil’s. After a moment, he felt a light squeeze, and that encouraged him to keep going.

“I will protect you from all around you.

I will be here, don’t you cry…”

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bookwyrminspiration · 2 years

Note

(Sending this to all my favorite blogs)

Here is your friendly reminder to release the posts that are in your drafts

Have a good day

oh damn thanks! I do definitely have a few things in my drafts that I've been meaning to clear out and just...keep forgetting to.

wait oh no I think I have an ask in there. yikes...heathen my apologies that one has been in my drafts...so long. there's a reason but also oh no I am!! very sorry about that !!

besties if you see a few random posts it's me getting a few things out of my drafts don't mind me. I'm honestly curious what I have in there at this point because I always save things there like "excellent now I can look at it later" and then forget the drafts function exists and look at it two months later or something.

and it's night now but I had an okay day! i'm almost done with that final essay I gotta write to finish the semester. I would've finished today but my family went to see Mean Girls (the musical) and it was longer than I expected and took up time I thought I'd had for homework. but!! aside from that I'm fine! straight up existing over here!

I hope you have/had a good day too, nonsie! Either enjoy the rest of your day or sweet dreams! Dreams are so weird btw. I have an observation about them and things that break me out of a story but this isn't the place for that. If you're curious tho I do love to talk

hang on I'm getting distracted I'm trying to tell you to have a good day too <33

#favorite blogs...#that is high praise #thanks!!#I never know how to respond to compliments #that's why the whole quil appreciation hours thing a while back threw me off #I was!! not expecting it!! and y'all are so sweet #where am I going with this #my train of thought has been split in two and is going separate directions except also sometimes it's just invisible and turns into mist #right!!#i was saying thank you for the little check in <33 #I will go look at my drafts now #quil's queries #nonsie

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luvbotclub · 4 years

Photo

MY SECOND DATE.

content warning for angst & character death. 3,044 words. inspired by the k-drama “while you were sleeping” and red velvet’s “my second date”.

author’s note: i’m sorry dis is actual Shit. >____< i have a thing where i think of sad fic ideas while listening to cute, happy songs and this is one of them!! i have a lot more ideas based off the red songs in the perfect red velvet but this is the one that stuck to me the most :] i think this has been in my drafts for two years already, yikes.

deep breaths.

you closed your hands and grasped jaemin’s hand tightly.

one.

two.

three.

4:07 pm.

jaemin was bound to be here any moment now, you thought as you shuffled through your makeup bag for that one shade of lipstick you knew he loved. today is your second date with your boyfriend of a year, which was a fact that your friends found ridiculous when you told them about it.

because of your very busy schedules, you two saw each other rarely and relied only on texts and video calls for communication. you were surprised jaemin had the actual patience to keep a relationship like this, since you knew that he was the kind who constantly craved to be in the presence of the person he loved.

you didn’t expect to be with him. to put it straight, you two were just drastically different from one another. jaemin was always bright, from the way he smiled to the way his hair colour changed constantly. he was the actual personification of an ideal summer morning, a picnic under the warm sunlight where you lay on the grass and smell the dew against your cheek, feeling the refreshing burst of watermelon and strawberries meeting your tongue. always smelling of roses and that one expensive brand of cologne you wanted to sink your face into.

and you? well, you hated being bright. you hated sunny days. you hated summer. you hated roses (god, you really despised roses and jaemin knew perfectly well of that). you hated that specific brand of cologne, but with jaemin, you soon grew to love them to the point your constant need for him to be by your side was almost insatiable.

when you two met, it was sudden. an actual cliche. probably something you could see in those romantic korean dramas you watched when you were bored during work. a force made you bump into a strong figure in your favourite coffee shop, the content of your cup spilling down both of your shirts. when you met his eyes, you feared for your life. he looked like a mean boy, again like one of those spoiled rotten bitches from dramas who’d slap you with a stack of their money for simply staring at them. but instead of the expected sneer, he gave you a big genuine smile that spread a small warmth in your stomach that didn’t leave you for days. apologies quickly left your lips as you tried your best to clean up his shirt for him with the tissue you were holding, but he stopped your wiping when he reassured that it was okay and that he didn’t like that shirt anyways. you felt so embarrassed that you thought you were going to die that moment. a blush soon grew on your cheeks as you noticed the growing outline of his toned stomach through the damp fabric.

he introduced himself shortly as na jaemin, an idol from a quite popular boy group. you didn’t recognize him and weren’t into boy groups at all since you were too immersed in your career to actually pay attention to everything else, but it didn’t come out as a surprise that he was some sort of celebrity — people in the coffee shop were already pointing at the two of you and whispering urgently into each other’s ears behind their hands as their eyes raked you from head to toe, probably making up a rumour of some sort and judging you for the bungou stray dogs t-shirt you decided to wear today. your ears went hot as you realized the sudden attention and jaemin led you out of the shop once he noticed your flustered state, not before apologizing repeatedly to the staff for the sudden uproar that you two have caused.

you found out that he snuck out of the dormitories with his other members to walk around since promotional season just ended. he wasn’t expecting to be out this late when you reminded him of the time. he said that he didn’t want to leave you and stayed with you until a taxi came by. before riding the taxi, jaemin asked you if you two could exchange numbers, since he wanted to pay for the coffee that was spilled on him. you told him that he didn’t have to yet he insisted, so you grabbed his phone with a pout and typed your number in as he did the same. just before you left he smiled at you and pulled out one of his spare sweatshirts from his bag and pulled it over your head.

“so you wouldn’t be cold.” he spoke shortly, before opening the door of the taxi and closing it once you got inside, but not before he shot a wink at you and away you drove.

you had to admit, you were scared that he forgot about you. you were trying to forget about the boy named na jaemin who you met accidentally, because it wasn’t like he’d be actually interested in you. you did a little bit of research on him and indeed, he’s an idol from a group named nct. you started listening to their songs and you can’t call yourself a fan, but you do enjoy hearing their music.

two days after meeting na jaemin, you weren’t expecting a sudden notification from him while listening to an ep by the subunit nct 127. you had to put your mug of green tea down, pause the song which you checked was named “jet lag”, and stare at the notification before tapping it and contemplating whether you should reply or not. he asked you how you were doing, apologized that he hadn’t checked on you right away if you got home safely since he was busy, and introduced himself again just in case you had no idea who he was.

the conversation was pretty awkward, but you tried not to think about it too much. you didn’t know each other that well yet and you were still testing the waters, both of you saying “no you” so many times that it drove you mad. you reminded him of the sweatshirt he left you, and asked when he was free so you could give it back to him. he told you that you could keep it and consider it as one of his “payments”, the other payment being a coffee date.

you had to draw back from your phone for a whole minute before sitting down on your bed and screeching into your pillow, phone in hand. he had asked you on a date so smoothly that it took you a few rereads before you got the meaning behind his message, and when it hit you, you felt blood rushing to your cheeks— a feeling that left you a little lightheaded.

you agreed on the date.

it happened later that week, on a friday. he told you to dress comfortably and thickly since you were going to watch a movie before going to a coffee shop so it might be a little chilly. you decided to wear the sweatshirt he gave you, basking in the strong scent of his cologne that made your ears go red as you thought of the way he smiled and flirted with you. you hated cologne, absolutely hated it. you felt sick whenever you got a slight sniff of it and the cologne jaemin wore was similar to the cologne your annoying coworker you sat next to at work wore, so it made you confused as to why you suddenly liked it (but it’s not like you were complaining).

the rest of your relationship went pretty smoothly, which surprised you. you thought you weren’t going to get along pretty well because of his flirty personality and the lack of patience you have for people like him. jaemin’s honey-like voice calling out to you, giving you compliments about the littlest of things like how the earrings you wore for today’s date fit you so well, and the way he’d act all cute and pouty whenever you rolled your eyes at him and his flirtatious advances— you usually found such things uninteresting, repetitive, annoying— but with jaemin, you found yourself slowly falling for him.

as you started dating, you and jaemin practically shared everything with each other. embarrassing stories that still haunt both of you to this day, your deepest darkest secrets, your fears, your interests, your aspirations, the strangest things that have happened and are still happening to you. you both agreed that it was a good way to communicate with each other, so that there wouldn’t be any feeling of doubt and embarrassment between you two.

but the only strange thing about you that he didn’t know about was you often had dreams that came true since you were just a child. sure, it sounds pretty ridiculous, but you didn’t know any other way to explain it to others without sounding a little crazy. you thought the same thing about jaemin. a part of you thought that he’d react normally to it since he loves you way too much to think negatively of you in any way (a thought that brought a small smile on your face), but another part thought that he’d probably find it strange in a way.

these dreams sometimes involve people who are close to you, but sometimes you see people who you have never met once in your life. most of your dreams aren’t that bad. some dreams end up being good, some end up being so gruesome to the point you were scared to go to sleep. you eventually lost count of the late nights where you laid awake in your bed, eyes fighting to stay open for you were afraid you’d see the bloody scenes that were practically imprinted on your eyelids again. you knew there’d be a new murder investigation by the moment you woke up the following morning or another car accident broadcast on the news for the whole country to see.

you couldn’t do anything about these dreams. you didn’t know how to stop having them or how to stop the things happening in them, but it wasn’t like you didn’t try. you saw a close friend of yours, seulgi, get into an accident during one of her friends’ summer out-of-town trip in one of your dreams where luckily she came out alive, but she suffered many major injuries that left her bedridden for months. you tried to convince her to stay in the city for at least one more day the night she was about to leave, but she insisted she needed to get out of the city to relieve some stress as soon as possible and your pleas fell on deaf ears.

as much as you tried to do something, you knew that whatever you’ll see is fate and who were you to go against that? even if it sounded way too hopeless to admit, you were only an observer, helpless in this situation.

you heard the front door slam shut once you were done applying the lipstick on, smacking your lips together and seeing if you missed any spots or overdrew. you looked up to see your boyfriend leaning against the doorframe, looking fresh with his freshly dyed grey hair and smiling down at your dressed up state.

“i really love that shade on you, baby,” he murmured, leaning down to press a kiss on your forehead before setting his bag and cap on the bed.

“that’s why i picked it for today,” you giggled and you saw the big grin on his face through the mirror, watching him undress and rummage through the closet for his clothes. “are you going to wear that one dress shirt?”

“you know me way too well, y/n,” jaemin laughed and pulled out the exact dress shirt you were talking about.

it looked simple, like any dress shirt would look like— a crisp white with translucent buttons lining down the front, but he always looked so handsome in it.

“of course i do,” you chuckled as he buttoned his shirt on, stopping midway once he saw you standing up from your chair and making your way towards him. you replaced the fingers on his shirt with yours and buttoned the last three two buttons on his shirt.

jaemin hooked his fingers under your chin, facing your head up so that you were looking at him. the look of pure adoration in his eyes made you swallow harshly and a shy shade of pink dust over your cheeks. he never failed to make you feel like this, as if you hadn’t been dating for a year already. your friends always told you that their boyfriends weren’t this affectionate after a year of being together, but you guessed that jaemin was different from them.

you were lucky he was different.

he leaned down to press a kiss on your lips and you kissed back eagerly, balancing yourself with tipped toes to kiss him deeper. you whined when he pulled away, a teasing smile on his face when he saw the pout on your lips.

“doing that won’t make me kiss you again, baby,” jaemin cooed, pinching your cheeks and smiling wider at the frustrated whine you let out. “anyways, we’ll be late for our reservation if we continue.”

“why?” you teased, walking to the mirror besides the bed to look at yourself and adjusting the dress you were adorned in. “you can’t resist me, can you?”

“you know i can’t.”

you looked back at your boyfriend and smiled at him, sticking your tongue at him before grabbing your purse from the bedside table.

god, you were going to miss this.

you bit back the tears that threatened to fall as you and jaemin exited out of the room, both dressed and ready to go outside. you swore you could bask in his scent all day long and you’d never get tired of it, the soft scent surrounding the car as you both got in and he pulled from the driveway.

as usual, jaemin’s unoccupied hand met yours once he started driving, his attention at the road not wavering once. you could only stare at his side profile and wonder to yourself what you did in your past life to deserve this kind of view right now.

you felt your heart swell, a mix of sadness and adoration swirling in your stomach and making it twist; you adjusted yourself on the carseat and looked ahead, fingers intertwining with jaemin’s.

you were really going to miss this.

last week, you saw yourself dying in your dream.

since jaemin had absolutely no idea that you had these occurring strange dreams that always end up happening, he thought that you were only having a nightmare so when you sat up in the middle of the night, a drop of sweat running down your cheek and eyes teary, he held you in his arms as you cried into his shoulder until you fell asleep, the bloody images still visible in your mind as you dozed off.

jaemin brought it up the following morning over breakfast and asked what happened in your dream that made you heave and struggle for breath the night prior. you shook your head and refused to answer him, jaemin soon stopped asking and didn’t pry any more into the situation as you stuffed his mouth with toast with a sleepy smile on your face.

what you saw in your dream was exactly what happened a few minutes ago; you were getting ready for a date with jaemin (you were adorned in the same shade of lipstick you were wearing right now), the time in your clock was the same, 4:07pm, the way jaemin looked at you was the same, even the featherlike brush of his lips against yours felt the same.

just as you were nearing the restaurant you made a reservation in, a loud honk startled both of you and jaemin, making you let go of his hand that wasn’t occupied by the steering wheel. just mere seconds before the car got hit, you remember looking at your watch and reading 4:49pm.

in your dream, you saw the aftermath of the accident. the images made you feel sick to the stomach as the photographs from the crash flashed on the screen, blurred so that it wouldn’t look as disturbing as the real thing but people could still see the skid marks smeared with hints of a deep red left on the streets through the filter.

the news anchor was talking about the accident the day prior while the headline flashed through the television screen— y/n y/l/n, victim of a brutal drunk driving accident in seoul, 20, pronounced dead at the scene. apparently, the truck driver was drunk during his shift and he was still yet to be found after he fled the scene, after a glint of fear appeared in his eyes after seeing your practically deformed body hanging out of the car’s windshield, limp and lifeless.

the silence in the car made you feel uneasy, heart beating in your chest way too fast and teeth biting onto your lips to not breathe so hastily and alarm jaemin.

you remembered yourself in the dream mumbling:

one two three.

before the truck made an impact with the car.

your eyes darted to your watch, the hands aimed at 4:48pm.

deep breaths.

you looked over at jaemin, and finally let the tears fall from your eyes. you grasped his hand tighter and inhaled deeply, holding it up to your lips and pressing a small kiss on the soft skin. you couldn’t see his face, vision becoming blurry as more tears fell, but you could feel a smile growing on his lips.

this time, you didn’t want to let go of him.

“jaemin.”

one.

“yes, baby?”

you were going to miss him.

two.

so fucking much.

you let out a little laugh, choking on your own sobs and jaemin was so clueless to it all as he finally looked at you, his concern growing when he saw your tear-streaked face.

three.

“i’m happy i get to spend my last day with you.”

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