#tumblr is hell and i’m not good enough at navigating to get our | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nehswritesstuffs · 1 year

Text

Father Like Son, Mother Like Daughter, Parent Like Child - Part 3 of 4

Now we’re really getting into canon divergence! All the consequences keep piling up lol. This also got really long and idk whether or not I should apologize.

First chapter on [tumblr] - [FFN] - [AO3]

Prior chapter on [tumblr] - [FNN] - [AO3]

Some meetings are fate--they’re bound to happen no matter what is going on around them. When it comes to the future Pirate King, he’s going to have nothing but the best. [10,516 words; AU where Cora-san and Bell-mère raised their six kids in the East Blue and everyone is better-adjusted]

“Huh…? Who is that…?”

Usopp squinted as he attempted to adjust his goggles in order to see what was against the horizon. Luffy suddenly appeared at his side, nearly vibrating in excitement.

“Who is what now?!” the straw-hatted lad gasped. Usopp tried to shove him off while fiddling with lenses.

“There’s someone nearby, but not near enough for me to get a good look,” Usopp explained.

“Any way you can signal them or some shit?” Zoro asked, not even breaking rhythm in his reps.

“Not without sending up a flare,” Usopp replied. He paused and stared for a moment before swallowing hard. “Oh, shit, they’re coming towards us.”

“What’s coming towards us?” Sanji asked, coming out of the galley with a drink-laden tray in-hand. “It better be land—Luffy’s almost eaten through our supplies.”

“It’s another ship, dumbass,” Zoro sniped. Sanji glared at him as he retrieved his drink.

“Watch your mouth, asswipe—I control what you eat.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

“Huh… it’s a dinghy… like what you and Zoro were traveling in, but the sail’s busted,” Usopp noted. “It’s got a couple girls our age in it.”

“Ladies?!” Sanji gasped, snapping out of his bickering with the swordsman. Hearts were in his eyes and his steps grew light. “I’ll go ahead and make them some refreshments~!”

“I thought we were running out,” Usopp grumbled. Sanji pretended he did not hear that and twirled into the galley. “Anyhow, it doesn’t look like they’re doing much one way or the other. Think maybe they’re coming here by the current?”

“That’s what you said we’re sailing across, right?”

“Well, yeah…”

“Then probably.” Usopp stared at Zoro; how in the hell did he survive before joining the crew? Then again, how did he and Luffy survive before Sanji and Usopp joined up?

“OI!” Luffy shouted, waving his arms. “What’s going on?! Do you have any meat?!”

“How have you remained unmurdered?” Usopp deadpanned. He then did a doubletake as Luffy stretched his arms to get momentum and launched himself across the water.

Holy shit… what sort of a captain was he with…?

Eventually, the dinghy caught up to the Going Merry and Luffy brought the newcomers aboard. It was indeed a pair of women about their age, one pale with red-orange hair and another tan with blueish hair. They both had tattoos as well—the former with a mikan and a heart on her shoulder, and the latter with a swirled heart design across her arm and neck.

“This is Nami and Nojiko,” Luffy said happily. “They’re sisters. Nami’s gonna be our navigator!”

“I never said I’d agree to that!” Nami snapped. “All I asked for was a tow back to Cocoyasi! It’s not my fault you’re in these waters and don’t know where it is!”

“Welcome to life with Luffy,” Usopp said. He tried to exude an air of confidence, yet his knees still shook. “I’m Captain Usopp, the real brains of this operation. You’re already met Luffy, and this is Zoro…”

“…yo…”

“…and Sanji is our cook.”

“…and where is he?” Nojiko asked. Usopp simply held up three fingers and counted down.

Two… one…

“Oh laaaadieeees~!”

“That’s Sanji.” Usopp kept a straight face as the aforementioned cook came out of the galley, hearts in his eyes and fancy fruity drinks on a tray.

“What a sight for sore eyes,” he crooned, lowering the tray so that the women could both take a drink. They did, which seemed to send him over the moon. “It’s about time we had some civilized company on this ship—even a temporary break from this sausage fest is such a delight!”

“For fuck’s sake; get laid already,” Zoro scoffed. The pair glared daggers at one another while Nami and Nojiko snickered and Luffy complained about wanting a snack.

“So, Cocoyasi was it?” Usopp asked, pretending that chaos wasn’t going on behind him. “Where are you coming from?”

“Cocoyasi,” both women said simultaneously. Nami shook her head when she saw Usopp’s confusion.

“I’m a cartographer by trade, and my sister and I were just using a free day to sail around and get some new details for my maps.”

“She’s a hell of a navigator too,” Nojiko added, “which probably explains Luffy’s enthusiasm.”

“To be fair, he was like that with all of us,” Usopp shrugged. “Once he gets something in his head, there’s no real getting it out of there until he’s either exhausted it himself or he’s kidnapping you with your permission.”

“Yeah, that’s a boy alright,” Nojiko smirked. She watched as the three teens argued, feeling a pang of very specific nostalgia hit her. “Say, why don’t you rest at our place as a thanks for giving us a tow back home? We can even set you up with some mikan trees for the ship.”

“Oh, that would be lovely, Nojiko-chwan~!” Sanji gasped. “Fresh fruits are like gold to seafarers!”

“Yeah, and our parents are killer cooks too,” Nami mentioned. That caught Luffy’s attention, the promise of food sparkling in his eyes.

“Yosh! Let’s go to Coccobashi!”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Bell-mère could hear the newcomers before she could see them.

“Huh… you hear that…?” she frowned, staring down the road into the village. Cora put down the bushel he was holding and shielded his eyes from the sun as he looked.

“I don’t hear anything, but I sure as can feel it,” he admitted. “Raw Haki like you wouldn’t believe… there’s a mast in the harbor with a black flag; do you think there’s someone here?”

“Someone just passing through, or someone supremely stupid,” Bell-mère spat. She was about to climb down the ladder when she suddenly felt a Haki signature come barreling towards them—oh, shit, it was flying towards them! Something whizzed overhead, cackling, and crashed into the far end of the orchard. The couple ran towards the crash, only to find that several trees had been destroyed while some kid got up from the debris.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” Bell-mère snapped. “Those trees were older than you!”

“Ooops, sorry!” the kid laughed. “Guess I got carried away. Nami said that her parents are great cooks!” He looked at the couple and smiled softly. “That’s you two, aren’t you?”

Cora had to hold Bell-mère back by her collar, using his Devil Fruit to make her threats silent. “…and what, might I ask, brought our youngest child to tell you that we’re great at cooking?”

“Oh, we ran into her and Nojiko while at sea—their sail ripped and we gave them a tow,” the lad said casually. “She’s gonna be my navigator.”

Bell-mère went limp and she and Cora stared at one another, then at the kid. She was what…?!

“Luffy! You idiot!” Nami and Nojiko appeared, having run there along with three other young men their age. “What part of ‘I’ll bring you there’ don’t you understand?!”

“…but Namiiiii… I’m hungryyyyy…!”

“He said something about finding you two with a ripped sail,” Cora said. “Is that true?”

“Yeah,” Nojiko admitted. “This is Luffy, Zoro, Usopp, and Sanji; their ship is in the harbor.”

“It will be nice to have a full table again,” Cora beamed. He looked at Bell-mère, who was sourly pointing to her throat. He undid the silencing on her and let her say her piece.

“How the fuck do you kids think you’re going to pay for these?” she growled, gesturing at the felled trees.

The silence she was met with was highly reassuring.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

On that sunny day, years after their first aborted attempt, Arlong the Saw attempted to invade Cocoyasi again. It was deeply personal for him, as he had been unable to find a permanent base since being beaten the first time, not to mention the fact that his ego was still bruised after the time that had passed. He had brought reinforcements, preparing for the rumors that a majority of the brats who had driven them out currently being in the Grand Line to be misleading. One thing was for certain: the rumors were true and the hotshot rookie Heart Pirates currently battering tougher waters were indeed some of the brats from Cocoyasi.

The bad news was: Cocoyasi ended up with backup of their own.

The six young people stood there, tall and proud and ready for a fight, just with a slightly different lineup than eight years prior. Arlong stood there cockily and laughed.

“Shahahahaha… looks like you’re down your best fighters,” he said tauntingly. Three swords? A suit and tie? Shaking knees? That jokes. At least they were down the Mink and Devil Fruit. “What a shame—I was hoping for a true rematch.”

“These people never did anything to you without being provoked,” the boy with the straw hat replied. “You have to leave now.”

“…and what if I don’t…?”

“Then you just asked for an ass-kicking,” the lad grinned. “Hey Nami, wanna do the honors?”

“Sure thing. One…”

It was the same brat that did the countdown as before…

“Two…”

…and she almost looked… smug.

“Three; looks like they asked for it.”

“Then let’s take care of these guys so I don’t have to pay the scary lady for some trees!”

“Right!” the others agreed. The five charged into the crowd of Fish-men, holding their own against what were supposed to be their physical superiors. The girls were unnaturally fast, the boys unnaturally sturdy, and their leader simply stared at Arlong, grinning all the while.

“What loyalty do you have to this place?” Arlong asked. “This is not your hometown.”

“You’re right, it’s not,” the kid with the straw hat shrugged. “But you’re in the way of me getting the best navigator for my crew, and I’m afraid I can’t have that.”

Arlong raised an eyebrow. “Oh…? A measly Human…? The best navigator…?”

“Yup! She asked for help, so we’re giving it to her.” The kid cracked his knuckles and crouched into a fighting stance. “Any last words before I kick your ass?”

“Only that I’m sorry I’m going to have to ruin you.”

“Nah, you can’t do that! I’m gonna be King of the Pirates one day!”

Arlong began to laugh hysterically.

Luffy used the opportunity to strike.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

By the time Cora and Bell-mère made it down to the village, it was a very different scene than they had anticipated. While they didn’t think that their daughters and their new friends were going to be bad at fighting the Arlong Pirates by any means, they didn’t think that they’d already have them unconscious and tied up, ready to be transported to the nearest Marine base.

“You kids sure do good work,” Cora noted.

“I used to fight pirates on the deck of my old man’s restaurant all the time,” Sanji shrugged. “These goons were nothing.”

“Don’t forget I used to be a bounty hunter,” Zoro mentioned. He was sitting on Genzo’s porch, cleaning his swords. “People actually know my name.” The pair began to bicker, which everyone else tuned out.

“I guess it’s time for me to officially meet your dad, Rosi,” Bell-mère frowned. She nudged the comatose Arlong with her foot, her lips curling in a disgusted sneer. “At least we’ll be able to bring him a present to make up for not inviting him to the wedding.”

“We really only need to go as far as Logue Town,” Cora said. “That kid Smoker’s in charge there these days from what I hear.”

“The little shit—he’d detain us until HQ arrives anyhow.” She glanced over at her youngest daughter and cracked a smile. “So, how’s a day sound for a headstart?”

“What…?” Nami tilted her head in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“I mean: the last time you two fought this asshole alongside four boys, you sobbed like a baby when they left,” Bell-mère scoffed. “Go with them—meet your brothers out there like you promised. You’re already older than half of them were. Nothing’s stopping you.”

Nami stared at her parents, completely taken aback. Go…? Now…? She felt a hand settle on her shoulder and she turned to see Nojiko standing next to her, an assuring smile on her face.

“You ever feel like coming back, then you know exactly where to find me,” Nojiko said. Nami began to silently cry, trapping her elder sister in a hug. Before she knew it, both her parents were hugging them as well, just as they did on the docks with her brothers years ago.

“Hey,” Luffy said, breaking the silence. “I’m hungry. Do you have any meat?”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

In all actuality, Law felt as though he was being generous.

Because, really, when all was said and done, the crew had only docked in order to stretch their legs and gather supplies. It wasn’t their fault that there was a Marine base that was particularly huffy when it came to visitors, let alone pirates, and that they refused to let them be until Law shambled them all into odd bits. Leaving them alive was more than generous, not to mention leagues more humane than what other crews currently sailing would do. He was being the epitome of charitable.

“This is exhausting,” he grumbled at Bepo, who currently had custody of his nodachi. “Mom and Dad never warned us about the fucking tedium that the Grand Line is capable of.”

“Sorry, but… it could be worse,” Bepo replied. The pair looked over the square of screaming, terrified Marine bits, compounded by screaming, terrified locals. Yeah… it could definitely be a lot worse. They began the trudge back to the harbor, knowing that there would definitely be several stragglers who would attempt to exact revenge on them.

Were other rookie pirate crews having this much fun?

“Boy, Mink,” a voice said firmly as they rounded a corner. There was a late-middle-aged shopkeeper standing in the doorway of his store, staring at them cautiously. “What are you…?”

“Pirates; I thought it was obvious,” Law shrugged. The man shook his head.

“No—you have the sounds of many lands in your voices. I’ll ask again: what are you?”

Law and Bepo exchanged glances, silently coming to the same conclusion. The shopkeeper sounded Eastern, but an Easterner on the Grand Line would be someone who would know the difference between a broadly Northern accent and the ones their voices had become. The young man shrugged casually in hopes to add some brevity to the situation.

“Moved around a lot as kids, as you can tell considering my kid brother here’s a bear…”

“…sorry…”

“…so I don’t know what it is you really want to hear.”

The man regarded this for a moment before eventually saying, “I heard that there were Northern pirates in town, but you sound more like you’re from my home sea at times. Does that mean the rumor about you being pirates is false as well?”

“No… we’re Northern, and pirates, but you do sound a lot like our mom,” Law said solemnly, purposefully affecting more of his Flevench tones. It was easy to use his more Eastern patter, but it was even easier to go back further, to the accent that often made grown adults cringe in terror. “She’s stubbornly East Blue—I guess it rubbed off more than we thought.” He then tactfully decided to offer an olive branch. “Where you from? We might have been through there recently; we haven’t been on the Grand Line for long.”

“It’s a place you wouldn’t have been old enough to remember,” the man said. That made Law and Bepo’s eyebrows shoot up. “Have you ever heard of a place called Oykot?”

Bepo wanted to immediately be small enough to hide behind Law, whose nostrils flared and breath hitched. Oykot? The older man saw their reactions and knew… breaking into a grin.

“People still know my homeland? Did they rebuild?”

“No…” Law stated. “The Marines took it over—I don’t know what they did with the land, but it’s government property now.”

“Then how do you know it?”

Law calculated the risks for a moment before answering. “We grew up knowing people from there. They left as refugees after the war. It was always something of a sore topic…”

“Then they were the lucky ones,” the man nodded. “Can I give you something, for next time you see them? They are young like you, correct? Or at least have youngesters of their own?”

“Uh… yeah…?” Bepo said warily.

“Then hold on!” The shopkeeper ducked inside his store for a moment before popping back out with a small trunk that was covered in decorative carvings. “Things from our homeland—they’re difficult to find. Even if they don’t want them, their children might.”

“Wouldn’t your children want them?” Law frowned. The man shook his head.

“I have none, and my wife has long-passed. I’d rather give these to a face than to die wondering if they will be burned by the government in part of their cover-up.” A shout could be heard from around the corner and the three tensed up. “Hurry, run!”

“Do you really trust me?” Law asked. He put his hands on the chest, both men holding it between them.

“Wha…?”

“Do you really trust me?”

Footsteps rounded the corner and fully-functional Marines were in-sight.

“There they are! With a conspirator!”

“Yes,” the shopkeeper whispered.

At that, Law ripped the chest from the man’s hands and knocked him to the ground with a hiss. Bepo accentuated the action with a loud, Electro-accented roar, one that sent shivers down the spines of the Marines and shopkeeper alike, before the brothers went running towards the docks. Law and Bepo swapped their cargo as they made it back to where the Polar Tang was, the former unsheathing his sword as he turned and skid backwards in a crouch, now facing the Marines.

“Finish loading!” he ordered. “Take roll! Make sure everyone’s in!” He put up a Room around them and the Marines hesitated to enter—they did not wish to be trapped again. Once he got the all-clear from Hakugan he went into the Tang himself and they immediately dove under the water. He found the crew in the mess hall, all marveling at the chest that Bepo held.

“Holy shit, Cap—this thing’s gorgeous,” Ikkaku whistled. “Where’d you get this?”

“It’s a gift…” he said idly, “…for my sisters…” He waited until Bepo placed the chest on the table before he opened a Room to begin working on the lock—the only thing the shopkeeper had neglected was giving them a key.

“What could you have possibly gotten for Nojicakes and Gingersnap?” Penguin wondered warily.

“Hey, I’m still reeling over the fact that you four are brothers, let alone that there’s a couple sisters to the set,” Clione snarked. Everyone waited until the lock gave with a soft click, allowing access to its contents.

Lifting the lid carefully, Law saw that the chest was stuffed full of trinkets and mementos from Oykot. There were photos, tiny statues, knickknacks, all wrapped gently in soft clothes made in the Oykotti local standard. He gently pulled a dress from the bottom and let the fabric run over his calloused hands, his brow furrowed in thought.

“Bep said some dude just gave this to you?” Ikkaku said, holding one of the statuettes to the light. “This is the sort of shit the Marines burn in a pile to cover up mass murder.”

“That’s kind of the point,” Law said. “Get caught with it and watch it burn along with you, or give it to someone who can keep you and it alive that much longer.” He set the dress down in the lid and began to look through the photos, a twinge of dread knotting his stomach. The people, the places—few to none of them existed anymore. It was a haunting thing, knowing that the photographs were not that old, yet the children in them were long-dead. “It feels like I’m looking in a mirror.”

“Dramatic, but go on,” Ikkaku said idly. Oh yeah, that’s right—everyone could hear him.

“These really could have come from anywhere,” Law explained poorly. “Bep, I want you to figure out how to get these back home without using the News Coo. This chest is too heavy for them.”

“Aye aye,” his kid brother grinned. “Our sisters are gonna be floored.”

“More than just them, I can assure you.”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

It didn’t take Nami long to realize she might have been in over her head.

“This is it?” she asked, gesturing at the sad pile of money on the table. “You really are literally some of the brokest pirates I’ve ever seen.”

“It doesn’t help that the captain eats like a vacuum,” Sanji grumbled. Nami just rolled her eyes.

“Any of you know what a budget is?” Both Sanji and Usopp raised their hand; Luffy and Zoro did not. “Well, I’m going to do everyone a favor and take care of finances. I want the two of you who do know what budgeting is to give me a detailed list of what you need and pricing. Those of you who don’t, just remember you have to go through me to get your allowance.”

“Witch,” Zoro growled. “What makes you a money expert?”

“We didn’t have a lot of money when I was very little,” she explained. “Poor people are some of the best with money, because they know what they can stretch and when. Mom was always trying to find new ways to get things to last longer before Dad came into the picture. She still has to make it stretch in the off-season most years—we’re not rolling in money.”

“So, that clumsy guy is rich?” Luffy asked, pinkie finger up his nose. Nami shook her head with a laugh.

“No—he just showed her what paperwork to file in order to get her Marine pension. She’s the one bringing in the money.” Her crewmates all went rigid. “Oh, didn’t I tell you? My parents are both retired Marines. Dad’s dad is apparently still one.”

“…and yet you and your brothers are all pirates,” Usopp noted. “Sounds complicated.”

“It gets way more complicated than that, but that can be a story for another day,” she said. Nami then looked at the money again, counting it up really quick. “Yeah, we’re going to have to get some jobs for a little while in the next island if we want to be able to afford supplies… this is going to be an entire thing, isn’t it?”

The four lads in front of her stared at her—of course it would be. It wouldn’t be her and four guys if there wasn’t at least some resistance.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Cora sat slumped in the chair as Bell-mère paced impatiently up and down the short corridor. They were currently in the Loguetown Marine base, in a holding pattern while their credentials were being checked and the several bountied prisoners they dragged in were being processed. A young woman stepped out of a nearby door and adjusted her glasses, looking at them expectantly.

“Captain Cocoyasi? Commander Donquixote?”

“…and you are…?” Bell-mère scowled.

“I am Chief Petty Officer Tashigi, subordinate to Captain Smoker,” she replied, giving a short bow. “Pardon my saying, but you two are legends in the Academy.”

“You don’t say,” Bell-mère replied. She looked at the shorter woman and raised an eyebrow. “Now where’s our little punk at?”

“Captain Smoker’s currently out, but you can await his return here,” Tashigi offered. “It shouldn’t be more than an hour or two.”

“Darling, I have a business to get back to—a legitimate mikan farm—and I’d like to not be given the run-around.”

“Belle, please, don’t scare the girl,” Cora groaned. “She’s telling the truth, at least to the best of her knowledge.”

Tashigi looked awkwardly between Bell-mère and Cora, not sure what to respond to that with.

“My Haki was always sharper than yours,” Cora added teasingly. Tashigi, used to seeing squabbles and pissing contests between other Marines, blanched at the sight of Bell-mère seemingly wanting to murder Cora.

“Maybe you’d be more comfortable waiting in my office,” Tashigi offered. She gestured towards a door and watched as her guests stared at her, seemingly sizing up her offer.

This was going to be a long afternoon, wasn’t it?

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

As it turned out, at hearing word that two former superior officers magically showed up on his doorstep with piratical presents in-tow, Smoker very quickly made the trip back to the base to meet them. Within twenty minutes, in fact. His cigars nearly fell from his mouth as he stared at the ghosts in front of him.

“You’ve done well for yourself,” Bell-mère noticed. “All of Logue Town? That was your goal, wasn’t it? To protect your hometown?”

“One of them,” he admitted. He waved off his subordinates, though used his Devil Fruit ability to close the door in Tashigi’s face while remaining at his desk. “No… you stay. I need confirmation that I’m not dreaming.” She hesitated before returning to her captain’s side.

Time crept slowly as Smoker read the report, outlining a myriad of things from not only just the other day’s attempted invasion, but the one from eight years prior as well. His ever-present scowl simply solidified, letting the others in the room know he wasn’t entirely convinced.

“So… you took down the entire band of pirates by yourselves…? As good as you both were, I find that difficult to believe.”

“It’s probably best for the slags to think it was us,” Bell-mère shrugged. “It was actually our daughters and their friends this time, if you’ll believe that.”

His eyes finally lifted from the report and he closed the folder. “Your daughters…?”

“So… then the rumor was true, Captain Cocoyasi,” Tashigi noted. “No one knew for sure, but the main hearsay was that you left to raise a couple of children. That’s really what you’ve been doing all these years?”

“Six once this one entered the picture, but yeah,” Bell-mère said, gesturing at Cora. She gave the pair before her a shit-eating grin—there was no chance in hell she was going to deny being a mom… especially when bragging about her brats.

“That can’t be it,” Smoker stated. “I remember you taking us younger recruits for practice—neither of you simply woke up one day and decided to find some children to raise. What happened?”

A long silence passed over the office, growing increasingly uncomfortable with each tick of the clock. It wasn’t until Cora cleared his throat did the silence shatter and attention was drawn to him.

“We wanted Justice, plain and simple.”

“Justice is what we dole out as Marines.”

“Except, we know Marine Justice, and it doesn’t give a damn if a kid is alone or lost or scared. That’s our humanity that cares… and humanity won.”

Smoker folded his hands and placed them atop his desk. “I’m listening.”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Nojiko,

We just got word of what happened at home. There was a small article in the newspaper, but we have been hearing rumors as to otherwise. There’s word that you had help from some kid who thinks he’s going to become the Pirate King, and that he is traveling with a crew that has a crackshot navigator. You know that I am aware of what this means. They’re still so far behind us in the Grand Line—it’s taken a long time for us to get to where we’re at. I don’t even know if there’s the chance for us to meet.

One thing is for certain: I was right. You are the strongest. Out of all eight of us. The rest of us can all keep running, but there’s strength in staying. I think it’s worth holding over our older brothers for a bit.

The goons send their love, sort of; Bepo definitely sends his.

I love you,

Law

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Smoker towered over Luffy, end of his jitte keeping the lad pinned to the floor. Crocodile had already left them to attend to other matters; he did not care if the pirates and Marine man in his care drowned, for it was only that fewer people in his way.

“So… your chasing us here in Alabasta is completely different from when you were trying to capture us in Logue Town,” Usopp realized. He glanced over at his crewmate, impressed. “Man, I didn’t know your parents had friends in such high places, Nami.”

“Neither did I,” she replied. She regarded the man carefully, not entirely sure she wanted to believe his intentions. He was a Marine, after all.

“Think what you will, but I owe Bell-mère and Rosinante much of my early successes, which means I essentially owe them my career. When they speak, I listen.” He lifted the jitte from Luffy and holstered it on his back. “The absolute least I can do is watch out for their children.”

“Hate to break it to you, pal, but pirates don’t get help from Marines,” Nami frowned. Smoker silently gestured to the everything about their situation and she grumbled. “Not often.”

“After talking to your parents, I don’t know what Justice is anymore,” Smoker admitted. “Maybe, through a loose alliance of sorts, I can figure out what it really means.”

“When we get out of here, you should leave us alone and go bother my brothers—they might be able to help you.”

Smoker considered it. “We’ll see. For now, let’s concentrate on getting out.”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Mont Blanc Cricket’s hut was modest at best, much to the Straw Hat Pirates’ surprise. They all huddled inside the older man’s home, with him grousing as he recovered from the bends.

“You got a lot of neat stuff!” Luffy marveled. He was staring starry-eyed at all the things that Cricket and the Saruyama Alliance had salvaged. There was all sorts of antiques and glittering treasures for them to look at, though one member of the crew was conspicuously not paying attention. “Nami! You have to look at this!”

“Huh? Oh, that’s nice.” Nami pulled a book from a shelf and opened it up, skimming through the old pages.

“That’s not gonna get you much of anywhere,” Cricket scowled. “Not many read or speak that language anymore. Can’t get rid of the damn thing because it’s taboo. Crew found that abandoning me was a good reason to get rid of it too.”

Nami smoothly read a few sentences of the book aloud, making everyone’s jaw drop but two: Sanji and Robin. The archaeologist turned inward and pensive, a knowing smirk upon her lips, while the cook froze dead in place before turning it completely around.

“Oh, the language sounds so lovely on your tongue, Nami-swan!” he crooned. “I don’t think I’ve heard that language since I was a little boy!”

“What language is that, shit cook?” Zoro scoffed. Sanji glared at him and the two stewed in their shared competition before Nami stepped between them.

“It’s a language from the North, like Sanji-kun is,” she said. “My siblings and I all speak it.”

“How did you manage that, might I ask?” Cricket wondered. “The last sad fuck I met who spoke that was literally dying from disease before my eyes. Poor bastard—just glad I didn’t catch the damn thing that did him in.”

“You couldn’t have,” Nami said firmly, snapping the book shut. “That wasn’t an infectious disease; it was poison that took out the entire country.”

“You know a lot about it for someone from the East Blue, Navigator-san,” Robin noted. “I would assume Cook-san would have heard it at least in passing… but you…”

“Let’s just say we’re all extraordinarily resourceful in my family,” Nami smirked. She then turned to Cricket. “Got any other books written in this language?”

“In the chest—take them,” Cricket said, waving her off. “They’re worth nothing anyhow.”

“They might mean nothing to you, but they seem to mean everything to Navigator-san,” Robin said.

Nami ended up adding over a dozen new books to her collection, which intrigued her roommate immensely. Robin knew what it was like to gravitate towards things from a civilization now passed… though… no… it wasn’t entirely time to reveal that yet.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“Oooooh… this is bad…” Nami cringed as everything clicked into place. Zoro glared at her.

“How the fuck is this worse than it already is?!” he griped.

“We’re not dealing with any old Marines, nor any average undercover cell,” she shivered. “We’re dealing with Cipher Pol 9.”

“Fuck,” Paulie spat. Rain and wind whipped at his jacket as he desperately wished the weather would permit him to light a cigar. “How would you know that?”

“Is this because your parents are Marines?” Chopper asked. Nami nodded seriously.

“Mom and Dad taught me a bit of Rokushiki—or the Six Arts—and I’m… okay at them. Not enough to use it in a fight regularly. My sister’s a little better, but even she’s nowhere near Cipher Pol agents, who have to master all six. Cipher Pol 9? The one that shouldn’t exist? They’re deadly with them.”

“Those bastards.” Paulie took the nub of his cigar and threw it downwind in his ire. It flew across the train station, landing in a puddle. “I’m gonna fire them, then I’m gonna kill them.”

“Let’s concentrate on getting Robin back,” Zoro stated. “We know the shit-cook’s on the train, but we can’t leave it to just him.”

“Plus we have to find Luffy!” Chopper squeaked.

“There’s a lot of things that we need to do,” Nami agreed. “Now, we’ve got a Government to defy.”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Everyone was recovering quietly on Thriller Bark as the inevitable conversation continuation happened.

“I can understand Sanji having heard Flevench in passing if he is from the North, but you, Nami…? How do you know it?”

Both Sanji and Nami glanced over to Robin from where they were helping Chopper by prepping nutrition-packed food and medical equipment respectively. The cook and navigator gave each other a tense glance, then turned their attention back to the archaeologist. She had given the language its name and that was something they could not ignore.

“I told you: I speak it with my siblings.”

“Are you from Flevance?” Robin wondered. “You would have been very little…”

“Nami was adopted as a baby—you weren’t there when her mom told us,” Sanji replied.

“Yeah; where I’m ultimately from isn’t exactly thriving either, but that’s incidental.” Nami placed the final roll of bandages in the box and frowned. “It doesn’t change that my home is the East.”

“…which makes your knowledge of a moribund North Blue language all the more curious,” Robin admitted. “May I ask: is anyone in your family Northern?”

“Dad,” she shrugged, “most of my dumbass brothers. We’re all adopted though; no one’s blood in our family.” She regarded Robin’s arched eyebrow carefully. “What…? Are we not allowed to know this language?”

“I would say you’re more than allowed, but it’s a fact I wouldn’t allow too many people to know if I were you. Sure, there were pockets of migrants here and there, but when all’s said and done, they still killed the citizens for a reason.”

“To cover up the cost of greed, I know,” Nami shrugged. “I’m more than aware of what happened. How did you hear the language, Sanji-kun? Did someone you know speak it?”

“More like…” he shrugged noncommittally, “I had to learn it, until I didn’t.”

“You learned it?” Nami gaped. “Why did you learn it?”

“The White City was a popular destination right up until the Outbreak. It made sense to learn it, and it made sense when I dropped it.”

“Must have been some teachers you had,” Nami replied. Robin stayed silent, watching the conversation with interest.

“I’d say it would be more impressive if I retained any of it,” he said. “I think all I know is hello, goodbye, counting to ten, and some colors.”

“Still more than a lot of people,” she chuckled. “Maybe when we’ve had a chance to breathe a bit, I can teach everyone some of what I know. It would do a lot of good, I think.”

“Anything for you, Nami-swan~!” Sanji crooned. Hearts were in his eyes as the topic at-hand morphed from their pasts to whatever it was Nami wanted, he would do. Robin took it all in quietly, not broaching the even bigger topic at-hand: what was he hiding?

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Tortuga honestly felt like some sort of lurid stereotype.

There were a ton of pirate crews wandering around, making their own merriment and being as debauched and insane as they wanted. From what the Heart Pirates had gathered, there were several islands as such on the Grand Line. Tortuga, Jaya, Sabaody… they were all fairly standard as far as the fairy tales that would be told to children in order to make them behave, or else they’d find themselves fighting for survival on such an island. It was honestly sort of boring, if you asked Law.

“Is this an actual island or is it a theme park?” he scowled, finishing off the rest of his tankard. The bar they were in was just as loud and rowdy as it was outside, which was hardly anything the young man wanted, let alone wanted to tolerate. “Any harder on the aesthetic and the pianist in the corner is going to swap out for someone with a hook hand.”

“No one’s keeping you here,” Ikkaku scoffed. “Tang’s right where we left her.”

“What’s keeping me here is a month’s-long Log Pose,” the captain grumbled. Fuck, this was tedious. “I think I’m going to go… take a walk.”

“Take Bepo,” Penguin requested. “That dude in the corner with the fur collar’s been giving him weird looks.”

Law stood up with a grunt and left, but not before pulling up on the Mink’s shoulder and hauling him out as well. The remaining Heart Pirates let out a collective sigh once the pair were out of sight.

“It’s only been a week,” Clione whined. He looked over at Penguin and Shachi and frowned. “How the fuck do you two do it? How did you do it?”

“What helped was that we could offload Captain Cranky onto the younger three,” Shachi explained with a smirk. “He’d do anything for them. Still will. Well, for us too, but all they’d need to do is look at him and suddenly he’s painting nails or using his powers to debone herring.”

“In that, it makes sense that he’s the captain,” Uni nodded. “He’s always looking after the lot of us.”

“Yeah,” Hakugan agreed. “I thought it was weird at first that the oldest brother wasn’t the captain, but now that we’ve spent so much time together…”

“No matter what has happened or will happen in the future, the thing to remember is: Law cares,” Penguin asserted. “He might not be the best at showing it at times, but hey… neither are our parents.”

“…which is a very interesting admission.”

Penguin and Shachi both froze as a new voice filtered out from the crowd behind them. They turned around to see a tall man—nearly as tall as Bepo—with red hair, a scar on his chin, and way too much leather to be anything but the pirate captain of some sort of kink-themed crew.

Oh… shit.

The man’s eyes slowly dragged over the table’s occupants as he made his assessment of the situation. “Several unbountied members of the Heart Pirates as well as two bountied officers. No one who would be considered a heavy-hitter—that’s reserved for the Mink and the captain.”

“What’s it to you, Gristle McThornbody?” Ikkaku scoffed. She was right—he was, for lack of a better word, beefy.

“You sound Northern,” Shachi realized. “We’ve never run into you before.”

“That’s because I took an alternate route to get to this point in my life,” the man said. He then pointed at the orange-suited men. “You two—a word.” He turned on his heel to head towards a private room, only for Penguin to scoff.

“Buddy, we recognize a trap when we see one.”

The man looked over his shoulder, clearly irritated already, and said something none of the Heart Pirates expected.

„Respect your uncle. Now come along.”

Shit… he spoke Flevench… at least a little of it. Penguin and Shachi looked at each other and nodded before giving the rest of the crew a knowing glance and a discreet hand signal—if they weren’t back soon, evasive action was to be taken.

Cautiously, the brothers followed the mystery man into a corridor, which held a bunch of rooms, one of which they ducked into. Three other men were in there—their leather jackets seemingly indicating that they were all piratical subordinates—and left with a wave of his hand. Once they were out, he checked the place over, confusing his guests.

“Sorry about that,” the man eventually groaned. “I’ve got to be extremely careful these days—not even my own men get a pass.”

“What’s a captain that can’t trust his crew…?” Shachi wondered. Penguin, however, got it immediately.

“A pirate captain that’s not really a pirate,” he said, tapping his fist atop his palm. The mystery man took a Den Den Mushi out of his pocket and activated it, the snail buzzing idly. The man waited silently for the other end to pick up, a deep man’s voice answering.

“Swallow.”

“Crane.”

“Good to hear from you, my boy. How are things?”

“I found them,” the man said. “Two left to wander, and I have two here.”

“You have them?!” There was a third voice, this one distant.

“Don’t you have someone else to bother?!”

“Tsuru kicked me out of her office.”

“…as I was saying,” the man continued, seemingly unbothered. Whomever the interloper was on the other end was a frequent, casual, and trusted occurrence. “I have two members of my absentee brother’s brood in front of me right now in a secure location; thought you’d want to say hello.”

Penguin and Shachi both suddenly felt very ill. Who the fuck was this guy? He looked nothing like Cora-san, so at least they knew it wasn’t the uncle they knew about, though the question still remained. The transponder snail perked up, though with a hint of caution.

“My grandsons…?”

“Wait…” Shachi marveled, pointing at the Den Den. “Who is that…?”

“A very tired old man who is happy at least one of his sons found happiness.” The snail wobbled as the man on the other end seemed to sigh in relief. “Which ones am I speaking to?”

“Shachi… uh… sir…”

“…and I’m Penguin.”

“The eldest two—I wish I could see you and your younger siblings in front of me, but I know that’s likely impossible at this point.” There was a pause, where the interloper sounded like he was making tea across the room. “Is he well?”

“Better than ever,” Penguin said. “We… uh… could get our other brothers…”

“There’s only enough time for one call, I’m afraid,” the snail said. “Maybe, when all this is over, we can be together.”

“Possibly,” Penguin replied. He glanced at the man holding the transponder snail and frowned. “Was this your mission?”

“Ancillary, so yes and no.”

“Trust this man; he is the uncle you should have grown up knowing,” the Den Den gently commanded. “If you ever think about muddling your allegiances in the name of a higher power, find him.”

At that, the call cut.

“Okay, so now the question is: who the fuck are you?” Shachi asked. The man fed the transponder snail and placed it back in his pocket.

“I am X Drake of the Drake Pirates, publicly a former Rear Admiral of the World Government Marines.”

Penguin hesitated at this. “…and privately…?”

Drake’s lips curled into a grin. “I thought you’d never ask.”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Nojicakes,

I guess we have an uncle that we didn’t know about…? I know you know about Uncle Doffy, and no, I’m not talking about Uncle Doffy. Ikkaku describes him as both “a slab of meat” and something she’d like to climb. I still think you and her get along too damn well for our own good just via letters, which is why you’re not allowed to meet in-person. Anyhow, I get vibes that he’s the replacement son for the guy who raised Dad after Dad went missing. Dude gets credit for being able to roll with it as well as Nami rolls with being a replacement for Law’s first sister. All of it, I think, is related to the fact no one in the family is wanted “dead or alive”. It’s all “Alive Only”. That’s… that’s a strange power.

We are at a quandary though. Sach and I want to help this guy, but we aren’t entirely sure if we should, or how we should. Please don’t tell Law yet—we want to get this off our chests, but at the same time, we want to think about it before talking to him.

I’m scared, Nojiko. I won’t even tell Shachi this, but, I’m legitimately scared. What the fuck is going on in this sea? I doubt even our parents know that.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Sabaody truly was a formidable place, when one came down to it. The Straw Hat Pirates all broke into groups to wander around the mangroves, getting in some shopping and sights while Rayleigh coated the Thousand Sunny. Nami and Usopp broke off together for the time being, the pair taking solace in the fact that they were each in the sole company of a normal person for once. Even with all of the bandits and bounty hunters and strong pirates wandering around, there was something said about being normal, slipping through people’s radars without so much as a blip.

“I do hope that they’re being careful,” Nami sighed. She finished off the end of her ice cream cone by popping it in her mouth, the Bon Chari behind her filled with her varying bits of shopping.

“Hey, if we’re not worried about Robin getting snatched while wandering around all the weird bookstores, then we can figure that Luffy will be alright for a few hours,” Usopp shrugged. His ice cream was long-gone, instead looking about the street for a specific shop. He shoved his hands in his pockets and tried to look casual as possible. “Besides, he’s got Chopper and Brook with him, and it’s not like Hatchi and Caimie want to do anything too reckless while here.”

“That’s true,” she shrugged. “See the shop?”

“No, but… I think we’re being followed.”

“Who’d be stupid enough to do that?”

“I dunno,” he shivered, “but these guys have been following us for a few streets now. They think they’re being slick, but considering they’ve got a giant bear with them…”

“…a bear…?!” Nami perked up as she looked up and down the street, trying to find their stalkers. Usopp opened his mouth to say something when he saw the bear barreling towards them, arms spread wide.

“Shit! Nami! Stay back!” Usopp gasped. He stepped in front of her and drew his kabuto, knees quaking. “I’ll fend him off!” His crewmate surprised him by shoving him aside and leaping into the bear’s arms, laughing as he spun around in a hug.

Huh… wait a second… the bear’s boiler suit was the same shade of orange as Nami’s hair…

“It’s so great to see you, Gingersnap!” the bear beamed. He then looked over his shoulder at the three men who were running to catch up; two of them were dressed in the same boiler suit, while the third was in spotted jeans, a yellow hooded sweatshirt, and a nodachi resting along his back. “It’s Nami! We found her!”

The two men in boiler suits crashed headlong into them, piling on the hug brightly. The third waited for Nami to disengage from the other three before bringing her in for a hug of his own, only for the others to pile on that as well. Usopp watched curiously, not entirely sure what to say.

“Uh… Nami…?” The five all stared at him. “Uh… what’s going on…?”

“Oh, that’s right.” The tips of her ears turned red as she wriggled out from the hug, effectively breaking it up. “So… you know how my brothers all left Cocoyasi before I did, right…?”

“Yeah…?” Usopp replied warily. Nami grit her teeth and forced a smile while gesturing to the newcomers.

“Meet my brothers.”

A chill ran down Usopp’s spine as the three men and a polar bear glared at him, for no other reason than that he was with Nami. He felt as though the treatment was very much undeserved as he was neither the boorish Zoro nor pervert Sanji.

“Great to finally meet you all,” he said, voice cracking. “Nami’s told the crew so much about you.”

“How many of you are there?” the man with the nodachi asked sternly.

“We’re a crew of nine, myself included,” Nami beamed. “I hope you have a lot of notes, Bepo-nii! I’ve been taking detailed ones of our route that I think you’ll find interesting.”

“Actually, I have,” the bear replied. He and Nami sat down on the ground and pulled out maps from… somewhere… and began comparing them. This left the other three men to menace Usopp, who was ready to cry for mercy.

“How did you and our baby sister meet?” the man with red hair asked.

“Gingersnap is safe on your crew, isn’t she?”

“Answer truthfully, Nose-ya, or we will demonstrate why we became one of the most feared crews in the North Blue.”

“Naaaamiiiii… help…” Usopp sobbed. “They’re acting like I’m your boyfriend or something…”

“Leave him alone, assholes,” Nami said idly, not even looking up from her map. “Usopp’s affections lie with a very specific blonde back in the East. You can’t kill him before we bring him back to her.”

“I mean… we could…”

“I have absolutely no qualms about telling Mom and Dad on you, and then where will you be, Law-nii?”

“You have always been too shrewd for my liking, even when you were little,” the man with the nodachi grumbled. He regarded Usopp and figured he had to play nice. For now. “I’m Law. This is Penguin, and Shachi, and that’s Bepo. We are the Tangerine Hearts, Captain and Officers of the Heart Pirates.”

“I’m Usopp… and I shoot things from great distances.”

“Law-nii, stop scaring him! He’s so terrified he can’t even lie! Lying is his thing!”

“Gingersnap, it’s been seven years since we’ve seen you; don’t think we won’t take full advantage of the fact,” Shachi said. “Is Nojicakes with you?”

“Nojicakes…?” Usopp frowned. “Is that seriously what you call your sister?”

“Noji-nee stayed at Cocoyasi,” Nami said idly. “She’s taking care of things with the mikan grove while Mom and Dad are out.”

“…out…?” Law cringed outwardly. “Fuck… I didn’t think they’d want to leave…”

“They were turning in some pirates that we had beaten,” Usopp offered. “I’m sure they took the bounty money and are back by now.”

“If you think that, then you don’t know our parents, Usopp-kun,” Penguin said, draping his arm consolingly along the other man’s shoulders. “Once they leave the nest, then there’s no bringing them back.”

“Usually people say that about the ones they raise, not who raised them,” Usopp said. Nami shrugged casually at that.

“You met our parents. They’re only, what, eleven? Twelve? Yeah, about that much older than Peng-nii, and he’s the eldest. The fact none of us are axe-murderers with a host of issues is kind of impressive.”

“Jury’s still out,” Usopp mumbled. He then got an idea, which he thought was pretty sneaky. “Say, you guys want to come meet the rest of the crew? We’re using a local bar as a hangout.”

“Using a table to compare maps would be nice!” Bepo beamed. “Come on! Let’s go!”

Unable to tell their cute baby brother no, Law, Penguin, and Shachi allowed Nami and Usopp to lead them back to Grove Thirteen, where they walked into a bar situated atop the mangrove roots. The rest of the Straw Hats were there, eating, drinking, and relaxing in their own ways.

“There you two are,” smiled the lady behind the counter. A cigarette dangled from her lips as she looked the extra guests over. “You brought guests, I see.”

“Go easy on them, Shakky,” Nami snickered. “They’re a bit out of sorts right now.”

“Neat!” Luffy gasped from his chair at the bar. “Where’d you find a polar bear?!”

“I’m sorry,” Bepo said, bowing politely. Luffy, Chopper, and Brook all gasped.

“HE TALKS?!”

“You’re a Mink, aren’t you?” The brothers noticed an octopus Fish-man sitting in the corner, pausing a game of cards he had been playing with a starfish and a mermaid. A moment and something in his brain clicked. “You’re that Mink! You’re from Cocoyasi, aren’t you?”

“What’s it to you?” Penguin sneered. He, Shachi, and Law readied for a fight, only for the Fish-man to bow himself.

“I’m sorry for the trouble I caused those years ago. I was part of the Arlong Pirates when he tried to invade Cocoyasi the first time and… well… you can see I gave that up a long time ago.”

“Hatchi was there, and he is genuinely sorry,” Nami confirmed. She pulled Bepo towards a table and put down some maps. “Everyone, meet my brothers!”

“This is interesting,” Shakky chuckled. The Straw Hats, however, were mostly taken aback. These guys? Nami’s brothers? They looked like a mismatched bunch of thugs, though their captain…

“Oh, you’re Nami’s brothers?” Luffy tilted his head curiously at the four before a grin brightened his face. “That makes you allies! Hi! I’m Monkey D. Luffy, and I’m gonna be King of the Pirates!”

“That makes you the punk that stole our sister,” Shachi threatened. Luffy, completely unperturbed, simply frowned.

“…but, ‘siblings of crewmates are extra-bonus-ally-friends’,” he stated, as though it was clear as day. “Well… unless you’re evil, but you’re not evil!”

“How can you tell, Strawhat-ya?” Law scoffed. “We leave a path of destruction in our wake. I’m a Supernova like you. Bountied not much lower you. There’s a lot of people who would consider us to be evil.”

“Nah—if you’re Nami’s older brothers, then there’s no way you’re evil,” Luffy chuckled. “I mean, older brothers are some of the best!”

“He’s right, you know,” Sanji frowned sourly at his captain. “Just because someone’s an older brother does not mean that they’re necessarily good.”

“Well, yeah, but they’re Nami’s brothers, and hey, you met Ace!”

“We are not ‘extra-bonus-ally-friends’ to anyone,” Law warned. “We are our own men, and we will not hesitate to take our sister and leave you to sink if we think it’s to our benefit, Strawhat-ya.”

“Watch it,” Penguin warned. “The last time one of us declared we were our own men, we got forcibly adopted and shuttled to an entirely different Blue. It’s a dangerous phrase.”

“For you two, maybe,” Law scoffed. Penguin and Shachi both shrugged casually—it wasn’t like they didn’t warn him.

“Alliances can be something that only genuinely come into play months and years after they’re formed,” Shakky smirked. “I wouldn’t pass up this opportunity, Trafalgar-chan. What better natural alliance than with a crewmate’s siblings? A sibling’s crew? It’s worth more than you realize.”

“Shishishi! She’s right!” Luffy hugged Law, which caused his siblings and the rest of the Straw Hats to stifle their laughter. “You’re our friends now!”

“He’s not really good with people, Luffy,” Nami warned from her table. Law looked over to see that her attention was on a map Bepo had drawn—this must have been a common occurrence.

“You saying Luff should go easy on him?” Zoro asked. Nami scoffed at that.

“As though he’d listen; I actually expect him to double-down, honestly.”

Fucking seas… he needed to escape.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“Are you sure she’s going to show up?” Ikkaku asked. The majority of the Heart Pirates were beginning their packing, restocking, and fueling before they made the trip down into the ocean depths. They had just finished hearing about what had tied up their captain and officers for so long, as it had taken a while for them to shake Luffy.

“Gingersnap said she’d show up before we leave, so she will,” Shachi said. He looked over his shoulder at Law and grinned. “She is coming, right?”

“Knowing our sister, she shall,” he replied idly. He was currently ticking off a list of their supplies from a clipboard as they were loaded onto the Tang.

“Who knows when we’ll see her again,” Penguin chuckled as he picked up a box. “We’ll probably end up running into her again in the New World.”

“With the way things are? Most likely.” Law kept marking supplies as the crew continued loading. They were about halfway when Uni and Clione came running towards the Tang. “You’re late.”

“Sorry, Captain, but we were avoiding a ruckus,” Clione said.

“Yeah—it looks like the Marines brought out the big guns for two other Supernovas,” Uni added. “Bad enough there’s an admiral, but I wouldn’t want to be the Straw Hats right now, fighting a bunch of Pacifistas.”

“…they’re what?!” Law stared at Uni and Clione, who seemed nervous at the fact they were even telling him the very crucial intel they had just received. Everyone else was attempting to load up the Polar Tang for the next leg of their journey

“The Straw Hats are being targeted by an Admiral and several Pacifistas,” Uni repeated. He watched as his captain grow pale, which was unnerving given his usual calm demeanor. “Uh… captain…?”

“Bepo! Shachi! Penguin!” Law shouted. “Gingersnap’s in trouble!”

“How much trouble could that brat get into?” Penguin scoffed.

“It’s the fucking Pacifistas!”

“Shit!” Penguin and Shachi swore in unison. Bepo simply squeaked in terror.

“What’s going on?” Hakugan asked. Shachi paused in his panic just long enough to get out a set of breathy instructions.

“Prep the Tang to dive immediately upon our return; expect,” he counted quickly on his hands, “nine more people. Make sure the medbay’s set.”

“Nine?!” Ikkaku gaped. “What the fuck are you going to do?!”

“Explain when we get back bye!” Shachi ran off, trying to catch up to his brothers, leaving the rest of the crew scratching their heads.

“After we warned her about there being more of those things!” Law growled. “I’m gonna kill that captain of hers!”

“If the Pacifistas don’t get to him first!” Penguin added.

“Oh, no, I’ll make sure he stays alive long enough so I can torture his rubber ass.” They headed straight for the grove Clione said they were on, getting there just in time to watch the Straw Hat as he lunged toward their sister, the real Bartholomew Kuma looming over her.

“Luffy! Help!”

With a pop, she was gone.

The four simply went still, watching as Luffy crashed into a wall before trying to go to the large reindeer-esque creature, then Robin, before Bepo snapped out of his trance with a horrified realization.

“Oh, no, the Admiral’s still here,” he said. Sure enough, Kizaru was still standing on the sidelines, watching as everything came to pass. “We gotta get out of here before he notices us!”

“Then come on; let’s go,” Penguin agreed. He and Shachi both turned on their heels, yet Law stayed perfectly still. “Law, you heard the bear!”

Except, he couldn’t move. Law was frozen in horror, his little sister having disappeared before his eyes once again. His eyes were wet and wide, his lips slightly parted.

He lost another sister, and there was nothing he could do.

Swearing under their breath, Shachi and Penguin each took a side and began to drag Law along as they ran back to the Tang. They were about halfway there when their captain began to struggle, trying to return to the fray. Bepo apologized and picked him up with one fluid motion, carrying him on his shoulder, not even dropping him with the rest of their crew in sight.

“Go! Go! Go! Prep to emergency dive!” Shachi ordered.

“What about your extra people?!” Ikkaku fired back.

“Questions later!” Penguin interrupted. They all tumbled into the Tang and immediately began to dive down towards Fish-Man Island. Once the ship was fully underwater, Law began to break down into tears in Bepo’s arms. The bear gently stroked his older brother’s hair, while sharing a look with the elder two that was a mixture of concerned and terrified.

“What is going on?” Jean Bart wondered. He did not push further, instead patiently waiting for a reply. The sight of Law sobbing seemed to unnerve everyone else just as much as it was unnerving him, and he didn’t like it.

“We just watched the Straw Hats get demolished by Bartholomew Kuma,” Penguin said gravely. His voice was weak, as though he didn’t even believe it entirely himself. “Our baby sister was their navigator.”

The mess hall was eerily silent, save for Law. Bepo decided that the right thing was to give him some privacy, so he picked his brother up in his arms—gentler this time—and carried him over towards his cabin. The rest of the Hearts all looked to Penguin and Shachi, both of whom looked deflated and sort of lost.

“I didn’t think there was anyone from the North Blue on the Straw Hat’s crew,” Clione noted.

“We moved with our dad to the East for a bit,” Shachi explained. “That’s where we met our mom and two sisters… all three of them were from there to start.”

“We, uh, moved back to the North when we started to make a name for ourselves as pirates,” Penguin added. “Didn’t want to attract any Marines to where our family was, not with our sisters being thirteen and eleven, and our dad having never officially resigned his post…”

“Your dad’s a Marine…?” Hakugan marveled.

“So’s our mom. They, uh, met as officer cadets.”

“Your family gets weirder and weirder the more we learn about it,” Ikkaku said. Yeah, there was no refuting that. “Why’s Law so much more shook up than you other three?”

“Well…” Shachi tried to figure out how to put it into words without exposing too much. The entire crew knew such a hodgepodge of information that it was difficult to discern what even needed saying. “You remember where he was born, right…?”

“Yeah…?”

“He’s been an older brother before.”

There were a few gasps and sharp inhales between the rest of the crew, this new bit of information completely recontextualizing the entire dynamic of their captain and officers. Only Jean Bart stood there puzzled.

“Where is the captain from?” he wondered. Oh yeah, that’s right—he’d only been a member of the team for a few hours.

“Then let us tell you,” Penguin said, “about a little country in the North that was called Flevance.”

9 notes · View notes

thebookworm0001 · 2 years

Text

fic author self rec

Thank you for the tag, @rosella-writes !!!!

When you get this, reply with your favourite five fics that you’ve written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love.

So I have about a million wips and small things that I have put on the inter-webs, but only a handful of actually finished, published fics which makes this almost more of a 'here's my entire catalogue' post but I sure aint complaining about that lol

without further ado:

Last Chance

Rating: E Pairing: Ellana Lavellan x Solas Summary: After years of work fighting against Fen'harel and his agents, the final battle between former Inquisitor Lavellan and the man she loves is only one night away. Links: Tumblr | AO3 Length: 6k, 1 chapter, complete; part of the 'post-trespasser' collection This was the first ever smut fic I wrote and I am wildly proud of it. Do you want to be in pain? Well, this is the angst-filled smut fic for you. I have it on good authority that this will make you cry. This is also meant to be near the very end of a long-fic that I have started but have yet to post anything finished for, so there's a lot of build-up to this that does not yet exist but you can imagine as being very angsty.

2. Stolen Moments

Rating: G Pairing: Ellana Lavellan x Solas Summary: Ellana and Solas steal a moment alone. Alt. solavellan did not get a repeatable kiss scene and I’m fixing that. Links: Tumblr | AO3 Length: 1.2k, 2 chapters, complete; part of the 'in-between' collection This is just a sweet solavellan moment. No pain here! It also comes with some incredible, amazing, absolutely stunning artwork courtesy of @rosenrotxiii which you can see in the second chapter on ao3 or linked in the tumblr post

3. In the Morning

Rating: G Pairing: Ellana Lavellan x Solas Summary: When Solas wakes, it is to the sound of her breath. Alt. pov of the end of Last Chance. Links: Tumblr | AO3 Length: 670, 1 chapter, complete; part of the 'post-trespasser' collection Did you want to have your heart wrecked just a bit more? Was Last Chance simply not painful enough for you? Congratulations I wrote the end of that one from Solas' POV so you could relish in the solavellan hell just a little longer.

4. Laundry Day

Rating: E Pairing: Ellana Lavellan x Solas Summary: After the Dread Wolf’s defeat at the hands of the former Inquisitor, his punishment is far more lenient than many were anticipating. House arrest, under the supervision of the Herald of Andraste herself. As Ellana and Solas settle into their new lives, neither has forgotten the events just before their final confrontation, and, caught in close quarters, old feelings begin to resurface. Follow-up to Last Chance Links: Tumblr | AO3 Length: 4.4k, 1 chapter, complete; part of the 'post-trespasser' collection So, this is also meant to be part of a long-fic that I have yet to write. In the ending where solas and ellana both survive his attempt to reshape the world and her killing him to stop that from happening, Solas's punishment is house arrest under the watchful eye of the very woman who defeated him. There is much tension. This is a sweet smut fic - need to soothe your soul after Last Chance but still want smut? This is your thing.

5. Modeling Expectations

Rating: E Pairing: Ellana Lavellan x Eludysia Lavellan Summary: Since taking a body, Ellana has come to rely on Eludysia to help her navigate the waking world and its new experiences, but one inquiry leads to a more hands-on demonstration than she expected. Ancient Elvhenan AU. Links: Tumblr | AO3 Length: 3k, 1 chapter, complete My dear friend @roseategales and I share many an au where our (unrelated!) Lavellans fall in love with each other and with Solas. This particular throuple au is an elvhenan au in which Ellana is a recently embodied spirit of Curiosity. In this fic, she's a bit curious about sex and 'Dysia is very happy to give her some instruction.

Firstly, apologies if I'm not the first to tag you, but I would like to tag: @roseategales (go check out her throuple smut fic if she doesn't rec it herself) @bdafic @redinkofshame @noire-pandora @shift-shaping

#my writing #then she put pen to paper #ellana lavellan #solas #solavellan #ellana + eludysia #dragon age #...i publish a lot of smut

20 notes · View notes

hurlumerlu · 2 years

Text

EDIT because this is frustrating me and I can’t leave well enough alone : This post isn’t a comparison between Bell’s Hells, the M9 and VM. When I wrote “the usual epic feel of fantasy backstories”, I was thinking of other media properties. In fact, I think the M9′s backstories in particular didn’t feel particularly epic either, for a number of reasons that would warrant another post. (as for VM, the way we were just given their backstories at the begining of the first episode means we can’t really compare either). Feel free to do your own comparisons in the tags (or in reblogs, or in your own posts), of course ! That’s what tumblr is for. But I personnally think it’s very tricky to compare the newbies to the earlier parties, because our visions of the M9 and VM is very colored by what they became. /end of this slightly neurotic Nota Bene

I’m really enamoured with the way most of the CR3 player characters approach the life-shattering events in their respective pasts. There’s a quiet, understated acceptance to it that really depart with the usual “epic” feel of fantasy backstories, and it lies not in what happen aned but entirely in how what happened was processed by the characters.

A robbery goes wrong. Your friends have to skip town, leaving you behind with a hole in your skull and terrible debts to pay off. And it sucks, sure, but what would have been the point of everyone going down when one could take the fall ? Shit happens. Life goes on. You get back to work and people greet you in the street.

Your husband dies during a surprise attack on your home. It’s probably the worst loss you’ve ever experienced. For a while, you may even feel like this should have been the end of your story too... and yet, life goes on. You both knew the risks when you signed up as bodyguards. Your time together was good. You say his name, and you smile.

One day you’re a woodworker - though perhaps a rather shady one - the next you’re a bloody werewolf. And it’s not an easy experience to navigate ! So yeah, you’re looking for answers, guidance, but to be honnest you were always a bit of an outsider, and you may have gained more than you lost. Anyway, life goes on. You craft a wooden toy ship for this new friend you made.

You’re killed in someone else’s story and awaken hanging from a tree. You’re dead. You’re not. You hear your killer’s voice inside your head. No one should have to live through that, but you did, and after the terror and confusion and emotional turmoil fade, well, what can you do ? You design a puppet out of dead things, you make yourself at home in abandoned houses, you meet this strange girl and the loneliness dims. Against all odds, life has gone on. So why shouldn’t you ?

I don’t know. I just think it rings true.

#i'm not including fcg because there's a much bigger focus on the mystery behind his party's death #and it feels more like he doesn't know how to process it rather than anything else #which is not what this post is about #imogen and fearne stories are also different #critical role #cr spoilers

2K notes · View notes

xjoonchildx · 4 years

Text

guilty | knj x reader | chapter two: incheon mall tube tops

summary: as the man at the top, kim namjoon has almost everything he wants. almost. could a familiar face from the past change his future?

pairing: namjoon x reader

genre: mafia AU, pining, eventual smut

rating: 18+

word count: 4.5K

notes: i really hope you guys are enjoying namjoon’s story! i think there will only be one more chapter after this. and like a true unfocused writer i started daydreaming about a yoongi one-shot to go with it? gah, nevermind. i really hope you guys like this and i’d love to hear how you feel one way or another. a huge thanks to my amazing beta @hobi-gif who does a hell of a lot more than just find typos. and all of my love has to go out to @ladyartemesia @ppersonna @taetaewonderland because all three of you are so much more than tumblr friends.

this fic is a continuation of the Guarded Series but can be read as a standalone piece.

Chapter 01 | 02 | 03 | Epilogue

**********************

It didn’t matter how hard you tried to hide your sadness, Namjoon saw it.

It didn’t matter how many hushed calls you tried to sneak, or how many smiles you tried to force -- Namjoon saw right through your act from the very beginning. He’d seen enough to know that you were facing some kind of personal battle. He understood enough about you to know that you were far too private to bring it up or ask for help.

He should have asked.

The question sat heavy on the tip of his tongue for weeks. He should have asked on the days he would spot you at your desk, fingers pressed to your temples in frustration. Or on the days when he would catch you staring out the window, mind a million miles away.

He didn’t.

Instead, he let himself be driven to distraction by the way your blouses fit perfectly against the lines of your body. The way your pencil skirts hugged the curve of your hips. How soft your hair looked pulled into the low, loose knot you favored.

He found himself stumbling over his words when you’d quietly slip into meetings to deliver an urgent message or he’d drift off in the middle of conversations just because he’d caught sight of you outside his office door.

So it wasn’t long before what started as a preoccupation turned into a full-blown fixation.

You’d turn up at his request, poised and professional as always -- and he’d be lost in thought, defiling you a thousand different ways in his head. Fantasizing about getting his hands on you, his mouth on you, his teeth on you.

You didn’t deserve that.

That’s why Namjoon kept his mouth shut -- stuck in a maddening cycle of wanting to help you, wanting to know you, just wanting you.

All of it made him feel guilty as hell.

*********************

The new girl is a fucking disaster.

Namjoon has yet to figure out how she manages to be underfoot at the most inconvenient times and simultaneously nowhere to be found when she’s needed. She misplaces files and misses calls and forgets assigned tasks altogether. He’s lost track of the number of times he’s passed her desk to find her taking pictures of herself; lips pouted, angle skewed.

Two weeks ago, she was probably selling tube tops at Incheon Mall and now she’s playing gatekeeper to one of the most powerful men in Seoul. So it’s not her fault that she’s woefully unprepared for this job.

And it’s not her fault that she’s not you.

Namjoon has spent the better part of the morning debating the call he’s about to make, picking up the phone and setting it back down at least half a dozen times. But he’s at the end of his rope, running out of patience and options.

So he swallows his pride and picks up the phone just one more time.

You answer on the first ring.

“Mister Kim.”

God, he’s missed the sound of your voice.

“Good morning,” he starts carefully, clearing his throat. “I’m certain you have a lot on your plate but I was wondering if you could come sit with the new girl for a few minutes. She’s struggling a bit.”

The line is quiet for a moment and Namjoon can practically hear your thoughts on the other end of the line. The ones that say well that’s what you get for replacing your perfectly competent assistant with a child.

“I left notes,” is the quiet reply that comes instead.

“You did.”

“Detailed notes. Written, detailed notes.”

“Yes,” Namjoon agrees, rubbing his fingers across his mouth. “I’m certain they were quite detailed. It’s just that she’s having trouble following those notes because --”

“Because she can’t read?”

Namjoon cringes. Any small hope he had that you weren’t taking your reassignment personally dies with the abrupt delivery of that statement.

“Apparently not,” he admits lamely.

He hears the quiet sigh you take in before answering.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

*************************

There’s a moment -- just after Seokjin has walked through his office door -- when Namjoon catches a glimpse of you.

You are leaned over the new girl’s desk, lips pursed, pointing something out on the computer screen. Namjoon freezes when you look up and lock eyes with him just as the door swings shut.

Christ, is he ever going to be able to look at you without feeling like he’s had the wind knocked out of him?

He turns to find Seokjin staring at him, one brow raised.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” Namjoon exhales, shoving a hand through his hair as he walks back to his desk. “I’m fine. You said you wanted to talk about something?”

“I do,” Seokjin starts, helping himself to a seat. “Two things, actually. Both pertaining to the amazing new assistant you so generously gifted me.”

Namjoon’s nails dig into the palm of his hand.

“Go on.”

“Apparently she’s some kind of whiz with numbers,” Seokjin continues, unbothered by his strained response. “I gave her a few of the books to look over and she already found a couple of our guys in the Songpa district skimming off the top. I’ll bet there’s even more where that came from and she’ll find it. She’s got a good eye.”

Namjoon feels pride stir in his chest. Yet again, you exceed expectations.

“Send Yoongi and Hoseok to Songpa tonight,” he murmurs. “I’ll be curious to hear what kind of explanation our friends come up with for their lapses in accounting.”

Seokjin nods.

“Will do. So the other thing --” he pauses for a beat, like he’s trying to figure out how to carefully deliver what he has to say next. “I know you asked me to try and figure out what’s going on with her and I think I have. You’re right, she’s struggling with some personal issues.”

Namjoon leans forward in his chair, body rigid.

“Let me hear it.”

*************************

YOU

The new girl is a fucking disaster.

You have yet to figure out why she can’t work the printers or can’t read a simple spreadsheet when you know for fact she knows how to beam her selfies all the way to the goddamned moon.

It’s infuriating.

Just like it’s infuriating to see her seated at what should be your desk, doing what should be your job, working for the man who should be your boss.

Figure shit out, you’d love to tell her. Sink or swim, that’s how the real world works.

The idea of letting her fail so dismally that Namjoon has no choice but to beg for you back is tempting. But then he’d picked up the phone to personally ask you to help.

And apparently you are incapable of denying that man anything.

You’ve stayed late every day this week to review the spreadsheets Seokjin has given you to audit because of the extra time you’ve had to put aside to help the new girl navigate foreign concepts like filing and scheduling.

The numbers tell an interesting story.

The rumors about Kim Namjoon’s skill as a businessman don’t give him enough credit. Money is pouring into the Gajog, hand over fist, from every major district in the city. Billions of won flow into the organization from legitimate and not as legitimate revenue streams alike. Combine the numbers and Kim Namjoon controls an empire worth trillions.

You stare at the sums and your mind flips back to your unexpected pay raise. It’s no wonder Namjoon can afford to be so generous.

It’s no wonder so many of the street-level men who work for him seem to be helping themselves to more than their fair share.

It took you a few days to identify the patterns, comparing the new intake sheets to the old ones, but once you did the missing money practically jumped off the page. Just a few audits in and you’d already been able to find at least 119 million won unaccounted for.

The Kim Namjoon you know is reserved and unflappable -- but this is information that’s bound to piss even him off.

What is a man like him like when he’s angry?

You shudder at the thought.

Before long, the night sky stares back at you from the window across from your desk and you decide it’s well past time you went home. You sort everything into neat piles and leave yourself organized notes before packing up to leave.

***************************

There’s no answer from your mother when you call to her from the hallway.

You frown as you make your way to her bedroom, worry melting away when you find her asleep in her chair. Her head is bent at a sharp angle, and you immediately move to help her prop her up.

Her eyes open to slits, unfocused from sleep and medication.

“Ttal,” she whispers, grimacing as she straightens out the crick in her neck.

“Eomma,” you whisper in a hushed rebuke. “We’ve talked about this. You can’t fall asleep in this chair, it’s terrible for you.”

She nods slowly, pointing to a glass of water on her nightstand. You hand it to her, but it wobbles in her weak grip and you take hold of it to help her drink before setting it aside.

“I’m hurting tonight,” she admits.

“I know,” you sigh, heart breaking. “Come, let me help you into bed.”

The process is painstaking. You help hoist her frail frame out of the chair and over to the side of the bed then work carefully to help her lie back. There’s no meat on her anymore, just skin and bones, so you tuck her blankets carefully around her legs and arms until you’re certain she’s not shivering anymore.

You know this isn’t working.

It doesn’t matter how many calls you make over the course of a day to check in, or how many well-meaning neighbors drop in to help, leaving your mother alone for hours in this state is a dangerous gamble.

You fight back tears of frustration. You grew up without siblings and your father has been gone for years. Being alone is something you’ve had a long time to get used to.

But you’ve still never felt as alone as you do right now.

You think in the quiet for a while, stroking your fingers across your mother’s upturned palm, unsure of what to say, unsure of what to do.

Unsure of what comes next.

“Kim Namjoon grew up to be such a handsome man,” your mother rasps.

The steady stroke of your fingers comes to an abrupt halt as the fine hairs on the nape of your neck stand on end.

“Excuse me?”

Your mother doesn’t repeat herself.

“Eomma,” you urge, nudging her hand with yours. “What is this talk of Kim Namjoon?”

Her lips quirk when she closes her eyes like she’s recalling a pleasant memory.

“His mother was beautiful,” she breathes quietly. “God smiled on that boy. He looks nothing like his father.”

The dull panic that’s already started to pulse in your chest sharpens to a point.

She has to be hallucinating.

She has to be taking too much medicine because nothing she’s saying makes any sense. You fumble for the bottles on her nightstand, pulling off the caps and pouring the pills out onto the tabletop. You count them over and over until you’re satisfied your mother hasn’t taken a dangerous amount of drugs.

“Eomma, why are you talking about Kim Namjoon?” you plead. “Help me understand.”

But when you look back to your mother, you realize your words are already falling on deaf ears. She’s slipped back into a sleep state once again.

If only it were that easy for you.

When you finally get to crawl into bed a short while later, you toss and turn all night.

Somewhere in the haze between asleep and awake you dream of Kim Namjoon.

*************************

Your mother’s mental clarity is always better in the morning.

After she’s had a night of rest -- and whatever medicine she’s taken has had some time to wear off -- she’s much more alert, much more like her old self. But you still weren’t able to get anything by way of answers out of her as you made breakfast this morning.

You’d made her favorite cold cucumber soup before carefully broaching the subject of last night’s strange conversation. You’d waited patiently for some kind of explanation about why she mentioned a man she hasn’t spoken of in years.

It didn’t come.

There was something odd about the way your mother went completely quiet at your mention of Namjoon. Something odd about how adamant she was about not having any memory of the conversation at all.

That odd look on her face is the one thought on your mind as you make your way to work in a complete fog. You slip into an open elevator and hit the button for your floor on autopilot.

You don’t even realize that you’re not alone until a soft voice interrupts your thoughts.

“I remember you.”

Your eyes flick up from their unseeing stare at your shoes to a young woman standing against the elevator’s back wall.

“Miss Kim,” you breathe, brushing an errant hair out of your face. Your cheeks are still stinging from the cold. “Good morning.”

Namjoon’s sister is a beautiful woman, without a doubt — but until this moment, you hadn’t realized how much she resembles her brother. They have the same striking features, the same smooth skin and high cheekbones and full lips.

They share the same dark, kind eyes.

“I remember you now,” she repeats, mouth curving into a smile. “I knew I recognized you, but it wasn’t until a few weeks ago that I finally connected the dots.”

“Well, I wasn’t around a lot when we were kids,” you admit shyly. “So that’s certainly understandable.”

“That’s true,” she agrees. “And I try not to think back to those times a lot but you made an impression on me. You were always so sweet.”

Your cold cheeks seem to warm at her compliment.

“Thank you.”

The elevator stops at her floor but she seems reluctant to end the conversation. She leans against the door to prop it open.

“My brother,” she asks carefully, “Is he treating you well? Is he a fair boss?”

You clear your throat, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

“Well, he’s not my boss anymore,” you admit. “He replaced me not long ago. But yes, he was very fair when I worked for him.”

Her lips part in a soft gesture of surprise when you deliver that news.

She’s quiet until the elevator blares a loud reminder that it’s time to close the doors. She smiles at you on her way out the door, opting not to comment on the quality of her brother’s staffing decisions.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” she murmurs. “But I’m still really glad you’re here.”

****************************

An inviting scent is the first thing you notice when you get home that night.

The second thing you notice are the voices.

You make your way down the long hallway with careful steps, trying to place the sound of the voice coming from your mother’s bedroom. It doesn’t sound like Mrs. Sim -- in fact, it doesn’t sound like anyone you know.

You stop short at the sight that greets you when you round the corner.

A woman -- a complete stranger is in your mother’s room.

You stand frozen in shock as you watch the stranger read to your mother from her seated position in the chair next to the bed. She looks up from the page when she realizes you’re there, giving you a better look at her pleasant, aged face.

“Aish,” she startles, clapping a hand over her chest. “Here I was, worried about scaring you and instead you’re the one giving me a fright.”

It takes you a moment to find your voice.

“Forgive me,” you start weakly, “But who are you? And how did you get into this house?”

The woman stands to adjust the pillow under your mother’s head before meeting you in the doorway. “She’s resting now,” she says, nodding at your mother’s still form on the bed. “Why don’t we talk in the kitchen?”

Should you be screaming right now? Calling the police?

There’s no good explanation for why you do neither and decide instead to follow this complete stranger into your kitchen instead. She walks to the stove to stir whatever she has cooking in the pot.

“Get off those feet,” she admonishes kindly. “I’m sure you’ve had a long day.”

Again you comply, inexplicably following orders.

“I made Budae Jjigae,” she explains, ladling some of the stew into a bowl. She sets it down in front of you, and you stare back at her like an idiot. The stew smells amazing, and you’re immediately hit with a well-timed hunger pang.

“Who are you?” you ask again.

“My name is Jinjoo,” she replies sweetly, handing you a spoon. “And I work for you now.”

“You work for me,” you repeat slowly.

“I do,” Jinjoo nods. “Mister Kim hired me.”

The spoon clatters loudly against the lip of the bowl when you drop it. For a moment, it’s hard to breathe. You have to wait for the strange sensation that snakes up your spine to subside before you speak again.

“Mister Kim.” You echo her again, dumbly.

Jinjoo takes a seat next to you at the table, radiating a patient kindness that makes you want to give into the urge to trust her. She smiles reassuringly at you, voice soothing when she speaks again.

“Yes. He said you needed help with your mother, and I can understand why. I nursed in hospitals for decades, dear. I can see your mother is in a bad way.”

You blink back at Jinjoo in stunned silence.

“I assure you, I’ll give your mother the best quality care,” she vows, patting one of your hands with her own. “And Mister Kim has already paid me well in advance, so don’t even think about trying to get rid of me.”

That statement almost makes you laugh.

You don’t want to get rid of Jinjoo at all. Ten minutes ago you had no idea she existed and in the span of one conversation she’s become one of the most important people you know. Tears well in your eyes as you stare into your bowl of stew, at a total loss for words.

Jinjoo seems to sense how overwhelmed you are. She gives you some space to process what’s going on, stroking one soft hand over your shoulder when she stands to leave.

“Eat something, dear. I’m gonna go sit with your mother for a while.”

You look up at her with watery eyes and nod, reaching for the spoon.

“This smells really good,” you say softly.

“Well, I’m a great cook. You’ll see,” she promises.

“Jinjoo -- “ you call out after her as she walks away. “Thank you,” you manage, voice thick with emotion. “I can’t thank you enough.”

The corners of her eyes crinkle when her mouth curves into a smile.

“You’re welcome.”

**********************

Jinjoo’s stew was delicious -- not that you had the chance to fully appreciate it.

You’d sat in that kitchen alone for some time, eating slowly while you tried to process yet another bombshell in what seemed to be a series of them. Everything that’s happened to you since Namjoon reassigned you has been a whirlwind; from the sudden pay raise to the sudden arrival of Jinjoo.

You eat the last of the stew with your stomach in knots.

Namjoon knows your mother is sick. And you don’t know how to feel about it.

A part of you feels exposed when you think about him uncovering the sad details of your mother’s health battle. But knowing that he stepped in to help you fight it makes you feel something you haven’t felt in years.

Cared for.

The sound of laughter from your mother’s bedroom echoes down the hall and you stand to follow it.

Her favorite variety show is playing on the small TV in front of her bed, and it appears Jinjoo is a fan, too. You lean in the doorway and watch the women giggle at the silly skit. It’s been a long time since you’ve heard the sound of your mother’s laugh.

It makes you smile.

“Jinjoo, could you give us a moment, please?”

You almost hate to interrupt the instant camaraderie between the two women but you recognize that your mother is in the midst of a rare moment of clarity. You have to strike while the iron is hot.

“Of course,” she agrees, standing.

You wait until the sound of her footsteps fades away before taking her place in the worn chair next to your mother’s bed. Your mother smiles at you, taking one of your hands into her own.

You squeeze her fingers gently.

“Eomma, no more secrets,” you murmur. “Tell me the truth. Did Kim Namjoon come here?”

Your mother swallows thickly before nodding.

“He asked me not to tell you,” she admits. “He said he didn’t want you to refuse his help.”

You shut your eyes and imagine Namjoon in your home, in this room. Speaking to your mother. Making plans to send Jinjoo. Your chest squeezes so tight that for a moment it’s hard to breathe.

“Okay,” you concede quietly. You maintain the appearance of careful calm because you don’t want to make your mother feel worse than she already does., “It’s alright Eomma, I’m not angry, I promise.”

A peculiar look passes over her face. Her eyes dart away from yours and that’s all it takes for you to know you don’t have the full story. You decide to toughen your stance.

“Look at me, Eomma,” you say firmly. “If there’s anything I don’t know, you need to tell me right now. I need to know all of it. Everything.”

“I -- “

“Just tell me what it is,” you repeat, patience hanging by a thread.

Your mother sighs, lifting one weak hand in the direction of her dresser. You turn to stare at the pile of papers stacked there, realization dawning in an instant. You move on unsteady legs to walk over and take hold of them.

Radiology, pulmonology, chemotherapy.

You know exactly how much is owed on each of those bills because the numbers are burned into your mind. Those numbers are the reason you leave your mother for hours on end every day to go to work. Those numbers are the reason why it’s so hard to sleep at night.

You don’t realize that your hands are shaking until you hear the papers rustling.

Every bill bears the same neat, handwritten marking.

paid -- knj

***************************

NAMJOON

Namjoon watched his sister leave early tonight with Hoseok. Seokjin is out to dinner with his wife. And Yoongi is off doing -- well, whatever the hell Yoongi does when he’s not around.

There’s no one here tonight to tell Namjoon to go home. No one to point out that he’s had too much to drink or that it’s happening far too often.

So he pours another scotch.

The glass sweats in his hand as he stands in front of his window, deep in thought.

Thinking about you.

Thinking about the way you struggled in silence, caring for your mother alone -- too proud to ask for help. The way you catered to Namjoon’s every need and whim without ever making mention of yours. The way he’d let it go on for far too long, selfishly wrapped up in the way you made him feel.

“That girl is going to get you killed.”

Namjoon tells himself the sound of your voice is a figment of his imagination, an entirely predictable side-effect of too much scotch. But it’s followed quickly by your soft footsteps against the plush carpet in his office and both sounds are too real to ignore.

He turns to assess you, quietly sipping his drink.

Fuck, you are beautiful.

You have no right turning up here tonight -- looking like that -- testing him when he is at his weakest. Your dark eyes flash with something like a challenge and Namjoon feels his blood warm.

“That girl is never at her desk and she has no idea who’s coming or going,” you accuse quietly. “She’s putting you at risk.”

Namjoon concedes your point with a slow half-smirk that teases the edge of his mouth.

“Perhaps,” he admits. “But there are different kinds of risk. Maybe you put me at risk, too.”

He shouldn’t take pleasure from the way your eyes go wide at that statement. Or from the way you overcompensate by standing taller, chin lifted high.

But he does.

“Mister Kim -- “ you start.

“ -- Namjoon,” he interrupts. “Don’t you think it’s time you called me Namjoon? Haven’t we known one another since we were kids?”

“Namjoon,” you correct yourself, taking a deep breath. “I know about everything. Jinjoo, the bills, all of it.”

Namjoon says nothing for a moment, draining his glass before setting it down on his desk with a heavy thud.

“Why?” you ask quietly. “Why did you do this for me?”

Because I would do anything for you.

He doesn’t voice that thought out loud. He knows he shouldn’t.

But he also knows he shouldn’t be closing the distance between you right now, and he’s doing that anyway. He steps closer, quietly, and you swallow hard, thrown by his silence and his advance.

“That’s not -- that’s not something you do for an employee,” you protest, slowly backing away. You stop only when the ledge of his desk hits you on the backside.

“The late nights and the extra hours. Everything else you did,” Namjoon murmurs, stepping close, chest rising and falling with his deep breaths. “Did you do that for your boss? Or did you do that for me?”

He leans closer, caging your body against his desk. Your lips part in surprise and Namjoon forces himself not to react when your tongue slips out to wet them.

“Namjoon, I -- ” your voice is barely above a whisper when you find it. “-- I don’t understand you right now.”

“How could I have every resource at my fingertips and not help you?” he asks, reaching one hand out to cup your face. The pad of his thumb ghosts over your lips and you shudder under his touch. “Why didn’t you come to me when you knew I could help?”

“I don’t know,” you admit, pupils blown and cheeks flushed.

“You should have come to me,” he admonishes quietly. You lean into the touch of his hand. “I would have given you anything you asked for. Anything.”

“I understand that,” you say quietly, the tremor in your voice betraying your attempt at calm. “Because I would give you anything you asked for, too.”

Something about the way you say that snaps Namjoon back to reality.

He looks down at you like he’s only just now realized that he’s loaded on scotch, leaning you over his desk -- and well on his way to taking advantage of this situation. He tenses, pulling away.

“This is -- this is not --” he sputters pathetically for a moment. “Go home,” he pleads. “Please.”

He’s never hated himself as much as he does right now -- when you’re looking up at him with hurt and confusion in those wide, dark eyes.

“Go home before I do something I can’t take back.”

************************

tag list!

@prettyguardiansailormin @barbikatherine @55west81st @laabellaavitaa21 @codeinebelle @jalexad @trynavibewhileicry @poohsaidhi @eltrain80 @bluewhale52 @sahmfanficbts @midnighttifa

#namjoon smut #namjoon x reader #namjoon mafia #bts mafia #ficswithluv #networkbangtan #btswriterscollective #ksmutclub #btscreatorscorner #btswritersclub

1K notes · View notes

thejudgingtrash · 4 years

Note

Annabeth is a good person,but not a nice or pleasant one,IMO.

YES.

That’s it. That’s the post. Pack it up everybody, we just cracked the case and cleared up one of the most compelling fights in the PJO fandom since forever. Good job everybody, clap it out and there’s the door! Don’t forget ordering the drinks at Starbucks, Mitch! They’re on me!

Okay, but on a more serious note: YES. YES EXACTLY.

And before some of you roll your eyes or grab your pitchforks – put your biases aside and hear me out for once. I like Annabeth. She’s my in my top three characters only second to Percy himself. I love Percabeth. It’s my favorite ship in the entire series and to be frank, the only ship that I care about PJO wise. Hell, I spend my time creating my own headcanons or writing my own fanfics with Percabeth being the star in them.

But that is not to say that I’m unable to see how certain things have developed over the years or where they stand now in regard to Annabeth. I’m not here to ignore things that have been said and/or done due to or in the name of Annabeth and I’m not here to vilify anyone that doesn’t like her. And I’m here to admit that I’m guilty of some of the things that may be addressed in this meta essay that you will read in just a second. However, I try my best to assure you, that I’m for once able to recognize my own bias.

Warning: a monster essay lies right upon you.

This should count as a paper of its own.

Back to the statement on top: I would go out even further to reframe your claim, anon:

Annabeth Chase is a good character but not a nice or pleasant person.

Annabeth is a wonderful character but she isn’t a nice one. Or at least not nice to everyone. She is (construction wise if I dare say) the best character out of the series. She has her positive traits (she’s caring, she’s emotional, she’s encouraged and volunteers, she fights for what she believes in, she forgives (even if doing so begrudgingly)) but she also has her negative traits (she’s stubborn, she’s brash, changing her mind takes forever, she is prejudiced, she baits others). That balances things out. She is branded as the intelligent kid but does irrational things (like I’ve just said a) she’s a kid and b) she’s not a robot). She should probably know better, but we all make mistakes and hopefully grow and learn from them. The clouds in the sky do blur and cover our visions sometimes.

Annabeth had clashes with other characters or was about to have fights due to her stubbornness or jealousy (Rachel, Reyna, etc.) and has of course her problems with the mortal world and her family but she also found new friends, some things cleared up throughout the narration and she was/is quite popular in Camp Half-Blood.

The thing is: she doesn’t have to be nice or pleasant (as a character). Or at least not all the time. Her character is humanized. That is what or who she is. Human. She does stand out as a character, not just because she’s the (future) love interest. She feels like someone you could meet in real life and either adore from the top to the bottom or declare as your biggest enemy. And that’s totally okay if you lean either way – liking or disliking her. Or even feeling indifferent about her. Also great!

To say that she has been the best character that Riordan has crafted is easy to say, because she has been sculpted after Riordan’s wife. He had a model he could rub some of real-life events or traits on. That’s not the problem. The problem truly doesn’t lie on Riordan’s side for the most part for once.

The problem is inherently on the fandom’s side. What the fandom does, how it acts and how it treats Annabeth as a character is the problem. The problems vary but it’s mostly the mischaracterization of Annabeth, starting fights and fan/ship wars, internalized misogyny (in some cases) and how some of the Annabeth stans lash out (ha, got firsthand experience in that field among many of my friends and mutuals!). There is a reason why many people are wary of people that have Annabeth or Percabeth related URLs.

The fact that we see Annabeth mostly through Percy’s lens and (until the Heroes of Olympus saga hits) we never really see her in chill everyday situations is essentially Riordan leaving the back door of the house open, ready for all of you asshats to rob his mansion in Boston. Because a frame on a character means that we don’t get to see the character in its entirety (unlike we do with Percy in PJO for the most part). That means a bunch of stuff is left open for interpretation which is the reason why Annabeth gets so many polarized headcanon and opinions tossed around. I think that is one of the true appeals of Annabeth. You can add on stuff and it necessarily doesn’t have to contradict itself.

We have people calling her abusive due to a (n admittedly stupid and unnecessary) judo flip and we have people that act like she’s never done anything wrong. People sorta use this excuse to form and shape Annabeth however they want and distort her characterization.

People in the fandom act like Annabeth is some weird prized possession. We perceive Annabeth mostly through the eyes of others (Percy, Apollo, etc.) and when we had some sort of insight in her ways (MOA, HOH) it felt… weird? Somewhat? Like Riordan left two bullet points of her characterization and told the ghostwriter: aight, fuck it up, gringo, see you on Tuesday and greet Fred the next time you see him for me.

There have been many posts lately (by Tharini, Simi, Sawasawako, Jewishpercy and Annie I believe?) that HOO Percabeth felt weird. That they felt weirdly constructed, that there was no conflict, no growth. It felt stagnating, like we’re turning back. We had five books prior where we had Annabeth and Percy slowly shifting from disliking to liking and crushing each other. True development. And when we finally got the cake it felt… dissatisfying. Like the cheap box stuff and not the delicious exquisite taste that we were promised.

I said it previously in my Percabeth ship roast, but let me repeat myself: many Percabeth related things are straight up fanon. Some of it is very old fanon so that’s been unable to distinguish unless you’ve read the books recently and subtract nearly 99,9% of things you see on Tumblr (and occasionally the other shitty parts of the fandom like Reddit, IG, Twitter. Although they mostly steal and recycle tumblr stuff oh well. But back to the topic).

The way people treat Annabeth is so strange. She’s either an innocent fluffy smush baby that’s never harmed a fly and all that she wants for Christmas is being Percy’s lapdog or she’s the devil incarnate, broke into your house, killed your parents Batman style, kicked your puppy and didn’t flush the toilet on the way out. I think this is what mostly makes people hate her or the ship Percabeth. And both extremes are wrong and right at the same time? She is multifaceted so both stereotypes are true and untrue and sorta cancel each other out in the same way.

The true reason why people dislike Annabeth is because the stans are doing the most. (The haters as well, don’t get me wrong, but oh boy. Piss of a stan and you’ll know what I mean). That isn’t inherently new. Are you guys old enough to remember the ship wars that have happened cross platform? Perachel vs. Percabeth? Oh boy, oh boy. I saw some kids on tumblr a few months ago trying to infiltrate both tags and start shit (and also fail). The fact that Rachel still gets used as the bitchy (ex) girlfriend in fanfics? It’s 2020 guys. I know this apocalyptic year is far from perfect and over but I think we can let this trope die, right? Right? I thought we’ve established that Rachel is a pretty chill charcter by now… right?

If you posted your stuff on FFN back in 2010-2013 and it wasn’t the typical cutesy Percabeth story (Goode High, the gods read TLT, punk/prep Percabeth, college AU, etc.) people would’ve come for your fucking throat. Not because the story or the narration was shit. But because the pairing wasn’t Annabeth and Percy (in the sense that Annabeth had to be paired with Percy. I mean Percy gets shipped with everyone and their mother but for Annabeth it was strictly Percy. As annoying as this whole Connabeth thing is – the people behind it actually had a point. She never had a different love interest unless it’s a Percy centered story and he goes off dating Athena, Artemis and Zoe at the same time for some odd reason. Yeah, FFN Percy ships are something). Or it wasn’t the action filled canon compliant story or it wasn’t an AU that was popular.

People were really stubborn, snobbish and wanted their stuff in the four five boxes that were the most popular ones and that’s it. People have been bullied off the site in many fandoms, so it’s not a PJO-only thing but it’s still sad that it happened. (Off-note: most of these FFN tropes are still alive and well and thriving on AO3. Don’t be so snobbish and pretend that every piece you’d find there is a holy grail. There’s a lot of trash you have to waddle through. Same with Wattpad, Tumblr or anywhere else where fanfics get posted. Also had this discussion with Annabeth stans. Sigh).

And Tumblr back then? Forget it, wasn’t much better.

That view has sorta changed (at least for people that have been in the fandom for several years or have managed to find a way to navigate through it) but some of the negative sentiment from back in the day has survived. Be it by new fans coming in or from old fans that never let their stance die. The aggression feels differently and somewhat not. (I don’t know if the anon function had been abused that much back in the day. I was an observer not a participant in the fandom).

Crack a joke at Annabeth’s expense (Kal’s famous “Annabeth is a Republican” post or Dee Dee’s and many others “Annabeth has the education of a second grader, chill with the college plans, girlie” stance) and you have people insulting you, making callout posts, unfollowing and blocking you (based on only that? Okay, honey), making aggressive counter-posts, etc. in a minute. If you respond with “It’s a joke, it’s not real” you have a 50/50 chance of either getting blown off or embarrassing them so that they apologize for once.

This isn’t just about jokes. You can make a headcanon that’s not the cozy cute convenient mainstream saga and people would react the same way. Or art piece (no, not including the whole Tannabeth Blackchase shtick done by Viria and others) or fanfics.

People project so much onto the unfinished canvas that is Annabeth Chase that any form of negative sentiment as little as someone not liking her to straight up criticism, regardless of how tiny it may be, seems like an affront. Like an invitation to a fight. Like an insult to them, their character, everything they believe in. Let me state something:

You are NOT Annabeth Chase. Annabeth Chase IS NOT you. Annabeth Chase is NOT real. Her feeling cannot be hurt. Someone criticizing, disliking, joking about her or even insulting her will not bother her. Someone making a statement about her is not an insult to YOU.

Let me repeat that:

Annabeth Chase isn’t real. Annabeth Chase isn’t you.

So think a little before you act? I get it when you’re a kid and new to fandoms or haven’t been up with fan cultures in the past and are back in the scene. But if you’re in your late teens or even older as an adult and you’re unable to understand that you aren’t what you like – you aren’t the extension of a fictional character – I feel incredibly sorry for you. Because that’s just incredibly sad. Someone disliking something you like isn’t an attack of your character. It shows you that you are you and the other person is a human just like you. That they just have different taste. Disliking something you like isn’t a crime, you know? But me feeling sorry for the way some of y’all act won’t mean that that’s even remotely okay. Especially if you’re no longer in the intended audience for PJO age wise and should know better.

This isn’t a “white stans” only thing. I’ve seen and witnessed firsthand how people of color, mainly women of color, act the same or not even worse when it comes to her character. People have projected their problems and real-life occurring events into her character (I’m sure that she isn’t the only character nor that this is the only fandom where this is happening) and in some cases like I’ve said cannot separate their own personality from the fictional world. Fights with woc happened because of Annabeth fucking Chase. So many things have happened in the fandom the past few months, mostly due to people being forced staying at home because of the quarantine but I’d say it’s 10% on quarantine and 90% on people for acting up like this.

So here’s a little story: There was the act of Riordan blowing the fandom up because of his own stupidity and being unable to apologize for his mischaracterization and lack of research (the whole Piper fiasco) back in June (?) and admits the upset fandom, people on Twitter, Tumblr and Discord legit thought that none of that mattered and that the outcry was destroying Annabeth Chase’s birthday. That’s right. People thought that Annabeth Chase’s non-existing birthday because she’s a fictional character had a higher priority than the rupture and prevalent racism in the fandom. Okay. This isn’t a great look, Annabeth stans. And this of course pissed a lot of people off. I made a post about it and someone not only berated three other people on said post but no, we had a mighty argument which had disrupted many friendships in our circle which haven’t recovered until this very day. We both had our parts in it and no one is innocent. But the cause of this still remains Annabeth Chase or how people prioritize her non-existing well-being. Anyway. I’m getting agitated just thinking about it.

Let’s go back to the characterization thing with Annabeth. Let me remind you:

Annabeth Chase is an asshole. There I’ve said it in a post ages ago (too lazy to look it up, sorry) and I’ll say it again. And that’s not me insulting her. That’s me actually loving that about her. Annabeth is one of the very few unapologetic female characters that really showed all young readers across the world that you can be a girl, a badass, smart, strong, standing up for yourself and what you believe in. You don’t have to be nice. You don’t have to hide your feelings. You don’t need a man in all cases but it’s also okay to accept help and defeat.

A large reason why I think she’s an incredibly important character in children’s literature/YA because many other novels (mostly (sadly)) have the “Oh, I’m a white skinny dark-haired girl that likes unconventional things like READING. I’m not like the other girls, that take care of themselves and pamper themselves by enjoying shopping and wearing make-up. No, I’d rather be one of the boys but a sweet cute little boy and not the jock fuck that drank vodka shots out of a filthy shoe once. Despite me calling myself hideous every man in a 10-kilometer radius falls in love with me and tells me I’m oh so sexy and by the way I’m only 16 years old” shit going on for no goddamn reason.

Yes, I do blame Twilight for this mostly in recent years, but this trope isn’t by any means knew. Pretty sure that you could even use classics as Pride and Prejudice and dissect them in the same manner (Bold statement: Lizzy Bennet is the OG Bella Swan. There. Go fight somewhere in the corner, people). The new wave of YA focuses on girls belittling themselves and only starting to believe in themselves because someone else (mostly the male love interest) tells them they’re worth it. And these books hit the mainstream because they’re incredibly bland and picture perfect white.

With Annabeth it’s different. She shows up for the job and is done with it. (Brie Larson would probably be the perfect in real life version of her. You either like or dislike her. Or you really don’t care). That is what is so refreshing about her. Her unapologetic nature. Can it be off-putting? Yes. Is it annoying? Yes! Hell, every time I read The Lightning Thief, I want to rip her goddamn head off. And it’s just so well written. Her shift from mistrusting Percy but secretly still believing in him to her opening up. Wow, Riordan did something right there.

Annabeth Chase isn’t a young character. She has existed along with PJO for 15 years. She’s on her way to the second decade. I’m pretty sure that with the success of Percy Jackson (and Harry Potter) many lives have been warped and shaped.

But when I say the problem lies mostly in the fandom, it doesn’t mean that Riordan’s completely innocent. The only problem that I have with Annabeth lies not truly with her but the fact that Riordan is only able to produce three variations of female characters:

The sweetheart (Hazel, Silena, Calypso, Hestia)

The strong feminist (Annabeth, Piper, Thalia, Reyna, Artemis)

The bitch (Drew, nearly every female goddess in the goddamn Riordanverse next to every female monster)

And these female characters only know three endings:

End up married with a mortgage, three kids, two dogs and a cat somewhere in Connecticut by the age of twelve

Get dumped into the hunt

Chill on Mount Olympus and only come down to be a nuisance and/or give a cryptic message before going back and doing a godly rave party or something

We know Annabeth as the badass strong female first (or the bitchy character we’re supposed to actually like. Choose your approach), the blueprint so to speak, so some of the other characters feel almost pale in comparison and almost not needed? Doesn’t mean that other characters can’t behave similarly, but it feels kind of redundant especially if their character arcs end in a rather anticlimactic way (Thalia, Reyna). The new additions are the much needed woc as the main story with PJO was inherently white (anyway stan black!Percy and Grover, folks). So it’s not to bash on the new characters, it’s more Riordan’s fault more than anything.

Since Riordan only knows three female character arcs it feels like he tried to copy the formula several ways with different nuances. Some more or less successful. This is where fandom actually comes in handy and helps create more distinguished and fleshed out characters in form of headcanons or fanfiction.

But even in these cases people still make it about Annabeth when it’s time for characters of colors to shine. Remember that whole spiel and discussion that broke out when people (Kal, diver-up, Caitlyn, Bee, reynaisalesbian, etc.) joked about or criticized that Annabeth thinks that she’s having it harder because she’s a blonde? In front of Hazel and Piper? If she would’ve been a real person that’s an invitation for getting decked. And then all hell broke loose because Annabeth stans couldn’t accept the fact that in the real world and/or in fictional worlds the woc/coc have it harder? That the white woman wasn’t the victim that needed the coddling? Yeah, that was mad pathetic.

I hope you people get my point?

Well fuck. I wrote so many things and have the feeling I’ve said nothing. Anyway, I hope I made sense. This is way too long.

TLDR: Chill about Annabeth please. She’s an important character but that doesn’t mean that everyone has to like her, regardless of being a character in the books or a reader/fan of PJO in real life. She isn’t nice or a sweetheart all the time. She also isn’t the monstrous asshole that some try to make out of her.

Peace out.

#Mel answers #pjo #percy jackson #Annabeth chase #percy jackson and the olympians #Percabeth #pjo Meta #Heroes of olympus #hoo #trials of apollo #toa #hazel levesque #piper mclean #reyna avila ramirez arellano #rachel elizabeth dare #pjo fandom #coc #rick riordan #riordanverse

701 notes · View notes

mymelodyheart · 3 years

Text

Miles Between Us Chapter 11 ~Suspicious Minds~

Picture Edit by melodyheart

Previously in The Art of Non-Communication ...

A familiar bright red Fiat slowed down next to them just as Jamie was about to get into the car, and Ian, their brother-in-law, poked his head out of the window. "Hey, lads, guess who I just saw back in town?"

The brothers looked at each other and shrugged.

When Ian stalled, Willie blew out an impatient breath.

"Out with it!" Willie grumbled. "I've been away from work for far too long already."

Ian grinned. "Yer pal Christie."

Jamie waved a hand in the air in dismissal and turned to open the car door, not particularly interested in hearing the latest coming and going in Broch Mordha. "I'm pretty sure the lassies will be thrilled he's back."

"Aye, ye're probably right, but I dinnae think ye'd be too pleased to hear if one particular lass is enjoying his company."

Jamie whipped around. "What do ye mean?" He sounded like someone just launched a flying rugby pass onto his stomach.

"Saw Claire and Tom through the window of Slater's Arms. Probably sitting down for late lunch."

If you wish to read this on AO3, here is the link.

If you wish to read this from the beginning:

AO3 link

Tumblr link

Claire hurriedly made her way to Slater's Arms to meet Tom Christie. They'd arranged earlier to meet at the pub after he'd dropped her off at the village centre to do her errands, so she was surprised to see him waiting outside. After exchanging a hurried cursory hello, he allowed him to guide her through the half-filled bar, his hand ever so lightly touching her elbow. They were greeted by a string of boisterous sallies from the locals, to which Tom good-humouredly responded with a couple of wisecracks of his own . It was becoming pretty clear they were in his local haunt and was well-liked by its patrons. But she also suspected there could be whispers going around, wondering what she was doing with him. Despite those thoughts, she kept her head up, and a smile plastered to her face.

After navigating through the narrow maze of tables and chairs, they opted for an empty space by the window, away from the bar where a heated football discussion was just about to begin. They simultaneously slid into their seats, sitting opposite each other, his lopsided grin and lax manner putting her immediately at ease. He was seemingly oblivious to the curious stares around them, but Claire paid no heed to the attention they were garnering and pushed her earlier encounter with Jenny away from her mind. This was a professional meeting, a welcome distraction even though it was proving an impossibility not to picture Jamie across from her. Suddenly missing Jamie, she allowed her thoughts to momentarily drift and wondered what he was up to.

"Hey."

Claire snapped out of her reverie. "Huh?"

"I asked if ye're hungry."

"Oh! Well, I'm not sure," she murmured, squinting at the specials scrawled on the blackboard hanging behind the bar. "Sort of, I guess."

"Sort of?" he laughed. "What kind of answer is that?" He passed her a menu. "Here. Ye ought to try their haggis tweeds. They have the best in this area."

She snorted, taking the menu card and skimming through it. "Really? I've never met a Scot who liked haggis, and yet every one of you lot I've met recommends it to non-locals."

"Aaahh," he leaned forward, propping his elbows on the table. "To be honest, I dinnae like haggis myself when cooked the traditional way. But the haggis tweeds are different ...more palatable. They're rolled into balls, breaded and deep-fried. I'm quite sure ye'll like them."

"Hmmm ..." When she glanced up from the menu, she met his thoughtful gaze. Though smiling, he had an odd expression on his face. "Wot?" She smoothed her hair, thinking it must be all over the place. She dreaded what her hair looked like after being caught in the rain earlier on. She wished now she'd tied it back before leaving the cottage. "Anything wrong?"

Tom shrugged his shoulders. "Just noticing ye dinnae look as upbeat as ye sounded on the phone the first time we talked. I was expecting ye to be more excited about selling me the idea of publishing my travel book. Ye kinda look as if something is bothering ye. Is anything the matter?"

She let out an exhale and placed the menu down. "I'm sorry. I've just had a rough day."

"Boyfriend problem?" he asked slowly.

She arched an eyebrow at him. Friendly as Tom was, Claire wasn't prepared to share any details of her personal life. "I just have a lot of things going on, and then you threw me out of the loop," she explained, not wanting to lie but not wanting to over-share either. "I was caught off-guard when you phoned earlier, and I wasn't expecting your call until, at least, sometime next week."

"Ye could've told me to meet at a later date. I wouldnae have minded."

"No! Today is fine," she assured him quickly. "I'm probably slowly weaning from the fast pace of hectic schedules in London, that at the first sign of change, I stumble a bit."

He grinned. "Weel, whatever is bothering ye, I dinnae like you looking so downcast. Maybe we can do something about it right now and tell ye a bit of good news. To cheer ye up."

"I like good news ..." she remarked, perking up, guessing he probably had a new picture or post on his blog he wanted to show.

"That's much better," he said when he caught a hint of a smile forming on her face. "As I was saying, I have a bit of good news. I've been giving your proposition a lot of thought ..." he shifted on his seat and took a deep breath. "I've decided I want to go ahead and publish my travel blog in print."

She blinked and swallowed before finding her voice. "But you haven't seen the projected sale and all the ..."

He waved a hand. "I'm quite sure after that impressive pitch over the phone, yer projected whatever and other wotnots ye wish to go over with me will be just as equally convincing. The idea is sold, and I'm on board."

"Just like that?"

He nodded his head, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Aye. Now that I've met ye in person, I'm pretty confident ye'll make sure I'll get a fair deal for my book. I'm a good judge of character, and I trust ye'll do what's right."

"Of course."

"So it's settled."

"Well, that's ...that's fabulous," she breathed, her mind rushing in all sorts of direction.

"This calls for a celebration, don't ye think?" he smiled, waving at the waitress.

Before Claire could reply, her purse vibrated. She pointed an index finger at Tom. "Hold that thought." She opened her bag and grabbed her phone. It was her boss, John Grey.

"Oh, hi, John! I'm in the middle of ..."

"Claire, I'm sorry to dump this on you," John said rapidly in a panicky tone. "Mary Hawkins just phoned and said she expects you to pick her up at Inverness Airport."

"Wot?!? But how? Why?" She glanced at Tom and noticed a light frown lining his brows. "She hasn't been answering any of my emails. What the hell is she doing in Inverness?" She knew it wasn't professional to be discussing another author over the phone with a potential client in front of her. But it couldn't be helped. At the moment, she was far too agitated to care. Mary Hawkins, the publishing's star author, had been elusive ever since she disappeared to France, and she'd been the reason Claire had decided to take a break in Scotland only to be given another job in the form of Tom Christie. "Please don't tell me you sent her here. I have enough on my plate as it is." She gave Tom an apologetic look, to which he just shrugged and smiled in understanding.

A frustrated sigh came from John. "I swear to God, this isn't my doing. She arrived yesterday here in London, and when she demanded to start work right away on her book, I assigned another editor. But she wouldn't have it. She insisted on working with you. So I told her you're in Inverness doing another project. And then she called a few minutes ago, demanding you pick her up at the airport. I swear I didn't know she was planning on flying to Inverness."

Oh, God! "John!" she whined. "I can't just drop everything and pick her up. I'm an editor, not a chauffeur! I'm in the middle of talks with Mr Christie."

"I'm terribly sorry for this mess, Claire but, isn't there anything you can do? Your boyfriend, perhaps? You know how Hawkins is a big deal for the company."

She took a deep breath and squeezed her eyes shut. Claire felt she was being put in a position she didn't want to be in. On top of it all, her uncle would be arriving in two days, and there was the added worry she had with Jamie and potentially Jenny. The day was definitely getting worse by the second, but Claire reminded herself she was John's only hope, and he was a friend and had always been good to her. When she finally had the strength to open her eyes again, Tom mouthed something she couldn't quite catch.

Wot do you mean? She mouthed back, shaking her head.

"Claire, are you still there?"

"Yes!" she snapped, tamping down the urge to curse. "I'm here!"

"Well?"

She let out a frustrated breath. There was no way out of it. "Fine, John! But you owe me big time! I'll see what I can do." Damn it!

"You're a star!" John said, relief lacing his voice. "I knew I could rely on you. I'll text Hawkins to let her know you're on your way, and then I'll text you her private number. I don't think you'll have that. It's one of the reasons you couldn't get in touch with her. Anyway, let me know later how you get on."

Before she could answer, the line went dead. What the bloody hell just happened?

Claire dropped her head into her hands and groaned. She wanted to bawl, throw stuff and pull her hair out in frustration.

"Problems?"

She raised her head and looked at Tom. "I'm sorry you had to witness that. I have to cancel our meeting. I need to somehow get to Inverness and pick up this author I'm working with." Without going into too many details, Claire quickly explained her predicament, almost forgetting to breathe. By the time she finished, she was gasping for air and wondering if Tom understood what the hell she was on about. "As you can see, I probably have to organise her accommodation as well. So I really must get going." She stood up and grabbed her bag. "Raincheck?"

He got on his feet as well. "Look, I'm not doing anything for the rest of the day. How about I drive you to Inverness. I can even help you set her up."

"Tom, you don't have to."

"Hey, I'm about to get a book deal from your boss. Let me at least prove to ye what a perfect travel guide I am as I've portrayed on my blog."

Claire stopped to collect herself. On second thoughts, she did need Tom's help, and she couldn't well impose on Willie to drive her to Inverness when he'd been taking time off to check up on her ever since Jamie left. Maybe she could kill two birds with one stone and talk him through his own book's publishing process on their way to the airport. It was a brilliant idea, and hopefully, by the end of today, John would be able to draw up a contract for Tom. With a resigned smile, Claire appreciatively accepted the offer. "Alright then, but we do need to get going now."

"Absolutely. We'll go through the back door." When Claire looked at him curiously, he grinned. "I've parked the car in the staffs' parking lot. I'm good friends with the owner, so I get the privilege to walk through the kitchen and use the backdoor," he explained. Then he leaned closer to her ear and spoke in a low voice. "And if the chef is in a good mood, he might allow us to taste today's menu."

Claire laughed out loud, attracting attention from the pub's clientele. She ignored the curious stares. It was good to laugh again after the last couple of days of feeling down, and she owed it to herself to steer negativity and worries from her thoughts. "We'll stop by the cottage to get some clothes. Knowing my client, she'll probably want to stay in a posh hotel in Inverness and want to start working right away. She doesn't do bed and breakfast or small places. So I doubt she'll want to come to Broch Mordha."

Tom nodded with a smile as he took her hand and lead the way.

Heading to the back of the pub, Claire made a few mental notes on what she needed to take with her. She also reminded herself to message Willie about taking care of Rollo and Adso while she's away, hoping he would think nothing of it when he hears from the village gossip of her meeting with Tom.

...........

Jamie caught Willie's livid expression before the car started, and they were driving down the small country lane. He knew his brother was miffed with Ian, who'd sped ahead of them after revealing Claire's whereabouts with Christie. Though common sense told him he had nothing to be worried about, it had been still a punch in the gut to hear Claire was out with another man.

"Can ye speed up a bit?" Jamie muttered, shifting restlessly on his seat.

"We're not in a bloody motorway, and there are speed limits for a reason," Willie growled, his fingers flexing on the steering wheel. "And it will do ye a lot of good to use this time to calm down before we reach Claire. It's obvious ye're not thinking clearly."

Jamie almost wished he'd taken a ride with Ian instead. They couldn't see their brother-in-law's red Fiat anymore as it disappeared at a bend further ahead. But he knew Willie was right. He wasn't thinking clearly. It's just that, why it had to be Thomas Christie of all people Claire had chosen to go out with. He had nothing against the bloke, but he was a renowned player. What if Claire had grown tired of his condition and fell for Christie's charms? It wouldn't be a difficult feat as the bloke oozed charms by the bucketload. Hadn't he lost a girlfriend in the past because of Christie? Or was it because of his condition? He couldn't be sure anymore. Either way, knowing Claire was with Christie at this very moment was burning a hole in his stomach. "So ye're an expert on my thoughts now, are ye?" Jamie grunted, unable to think of a better excuse for his behaviour.

"I dinnae need to be an expert to know what ye're thinking ... it's written all o'er yer face," Willie retorted. "If ye'd called her up in the first place, then ye would've had a fair idea why she's meeting Christie, and ye wouldnae be in this stinking shite thinking the worse. The lass has been worried sick about ye, and she's put up with yer silence more than what could be expected of her. So do both yerselves a favour and calm the fuck down, aye?"

Jamie knocked back the claustrophobic sensation and forced himself to breathe. This had always been his trouble with his PTSD. He always had these intense emotions that always grew out of proportion to a point it would suffocate him, especially negatives ones like a feeling of lacking or guilt. Wasn't that what Geneva had said? There was a lot of misplaced guilt involved? And no matter what he did to get better, it was a bloody never-ending cycle that always brought him back to square one. But despite the shortcomings, he knew it would kill him if he didn't give himself a fighting chance with Claire. He might as well die trying. She was, after all, either going to be his reason for living or the reason he died. It was all right there, shining in front of him like a floodlight.

With a sigh, he tried to relax. Jamie knew justifying his earlier behaviour was a bad idea in both their current edgy states, but nothing would stop him from seeing Claire right now. It was like a need that required satisfying, and he couldn't wait to finally see her. He focused on the road ahead of them and listened to the radio to take his mind of negative thoughts.

It's a dreich Thursday afternoon, and here's another trip down memory lane with Mac's Classics here at MFR, with the biggest hits and the biggest throwbacks. Next up is a song sure to make ye forget the dreary days ahead – Let's get rickrolling with Never Gonna Give You Up.

"Turn it up," Jamie said suddenly, surprising his brother.

"What?" Willie glanced at him like he'd grown a pair of horns.

"I said, turn the bloody volume up!"

"Ye're joking, right? Rick fucking Astley? Nae chance pal!"

"Just do it," Jamie huffed, not caring what his brother thought of his song choice. When Claire had told him it had made her smile listening to it in the cafe the other day, he'd listened to it as well on his mother's antique record player. It was a bloody awful song, but for some strange reason, it had made him smile too.

Scowling and cursing under his breath, Willie eventually complied, and they listened to Rick Astley's song for the rest of the way. When they reached the village centre, Willie illegally parked outside Slater's Arms, carefully avoiding bumping into the menacing bollards. They were just about to get out of the car when Ian appeared from the pub, shaking his head.

Willie stuck his head out of the window. "What's the matter?"

"They're gone," Ian replied, shrugging, perplexity evident in his expression. "Spoke to Angus, and he said they didn't even order anything. They just got up and left."

Jamie got out of the car. "Did he say where they went?"

Ian narrowed his gaze at him. "I didnae ask."

Jamie ran a hand in front of his face and got back in the car. His brother had to work. There was only one thing left he could do, and it was to go back to the cottage, and if Claire wasn't there, he'd give her a call. He turned to Willie, letting out a sigh of resignation. "Just drop me off at the cottage. I've taken too much of yer time already."

"Ye sure?" Willie asked quietly. "I can drop ye off at Lallybroch. Yer car is there. Ye'll most probably need it soon, especially with more bad weather to come."

Jamie shook his head. He was certain Claire would be at home, and if not, surely later. He wasn't planning on going anywhere anytime soon but had every intention of making up for lost time with her. "It's time to go home," Jamie sighed, waving goodbye to Ian. "No more running away,"

Willie smiled, starting the car. "Good choice!"

It was a short drive to his cottage, and by the time they pulled up outside his house, the sun started to peek out for a splinter of a moment, his driveway though occupied by an unfamiliar vehicle. As soon as he saw a man's profile sat on the driver's seat, he immediately knew it was Christie. As if anticipating his next move and before he could yank off his seatbelt, Willie slapped a hand across his chest.

"What?" Jamie wheezed.

"Claire's in the cottage. Talk to her first and find out what's going on before ye jump to any conclusions."

Jamie breathed through a laugh, but he could hear it was edged with doubt. "What if I've fucked this up?"

"Ye havenae. And it's up to ye to keep that way. Now go to her. Ye'll find out soon enough there's a perfect explanation for Christie hanging about."

Words were fighting to leave his tongue, but he clamped his lips together and held them back. Vocalising the feelings raging inside his chest would only allow his emotions to run away with him. He reigned them in and took a deep breath. Whether it's a consequence of PTSD or not, he couldn't expect Claire to understand every time. So instead, Jamie gave Willie a reassuring nod and hoped his brother was right.

He got out of the car and walked straight to the cottage, refusing to acknowledge Christie. He knew he was being rude and could feel his brother's eyes boring into his back as well as Christie's. He didn't care because right at this moment, his primary focus was Claire.

As soon as he opened the door and saw Claire hooking a bag onto her shoulder, he bounded across the room, dropping his face into her neck and breathing for the first time in days. "Sassenach," he whispered. "I'm so sorry for leaving ye. I wasnae thinking. Please forgive me."

Claire dropped her bag on the floor, wrapping both arms around his neck. "Jamie, you're here," she breathed into his ear. "Are you alright? God, I've been so worried about you."

"I'm alright now that I'm here and ye're here," he rasped, lifting his head for a moment and eyeing the bags on the floor. "Why are yer bags packed?"

She followed his gaze. "I ...ah ... it's work, and I have to ..."

"Ye're going back to London?"

"No!"

That's all he needed to hear. Unable to wait any longer for an explanation, he pulled her into his arms as urgency pumped in his veins. He badly needed to absorb as much as he could of her, breathing her in, in huge gulps of air. His mouth travelled over her neck, into her hair, across her lips, whispering for forgiveness, his hands restless as he touched her everywhere.

"Hey, look at me ... there's nothing to forgive," she murmured, drawing away. She placed her hands on both sides of his face and searched his eyes. "I understand what you've been going through, and I know you're fighting your hardest. It's going to be alright."

"I've missed ye." He turned his face to kiss her palm before placing her hand on his chest. "I-I thought ye're better off without me. I thought I could walk away from ye, and it would be enough knowing ye're safe from me. But nothing was right. I was sick to the soul, knowing I've left ye. I wanted ye to be with a better man than me, but now ... I'm gonnae be selfish and beg ye to let me be that man by yer side."

"Jamie, where's this coming from?" she queried. "I was worried and afraid for you, but I haven't changed my mind about us." She sighed. "Your brother told me yesterday, you were seeing a therapist this morning. Did you go today?"

Jamie swallowed and nodded, unable to still his hands, touching her everywhere, needing to assure himself he was really holding her.

"Is this why you're talking like this? Has the therapy dug up a lot of unwanted issues? Because if it has, it's perfectly normal."

"No!" He let out a frustrated breath. He'd been so unpredictable with the symptoms of his PTSD coming and going, she wasn't taking him seriously when he needed her to hear him out. "No, please listen and look me in the eye. I panicked when I saw the bruises on yer arms, and without thinking, I left. I did what I did because I didnae think I could ever be the man for ye ...a bloody disappointment, constantly causing ye grief. But I understand now why my condition is out of control at the moment ... it's because I have suppressed emotions that need to come out. It's been coming out more because all this while, ye've been the key to my healing. So I'm handing everything inside me over to ye because I trust ye, and ye're the only one who can make sense of me. I cannae promise smooth sailing, Sassenach, but there is one thing I know ye can depend on and will always be constant despite my condition. And that's my love for ye. I can guarantee ye with certainty ye can rely on that. This isnae a result of my therapy talking, alright? I willnae let ye go for anything. I can work around my condition with ye by my side, and I'll work twice as hard to get better."

"Jamie, I love you too, and I have no doubt that ..."

"Then why are your bags packed?" he questioned accusingly. "And why is Christie outside waiting for ye?"

With a sharp intake of breath, Claire quickly explained everything from the call she received from her boss to Christie's involvement and an impatient Mary Hawkins waiting for her at the airport.

He could tell she was itching to go by the way she tried to subtly glance at her watch, but he was feeling too selfish. "How about I drive ye to Inverness?" he cajoled, his hand stroking her hair. "Willie is still outside. We'll get my car in Lallybroch, and I'll drive ye." He suddenly felt like a bastard keeping her from doing her work.

"Jamie, no!" she said gently but firmly. He knew she was restraining herself from rushing off, wanting to make sure he was alright first. "I can't be fretting about you being in a city when I have work to do. There's a possibility I'll be back tonight, but if Mary wants to work straight away on her book, then I have to stay in Inverness for a couple of nights, tops. Besides, I need to explain to Tom about his book's publication and make sure he hasn't changed his mind. Until we've drawn up a contract, nothing is certain." Her hands smoothed the hard muscles on his chest. "Besides, I need you to be here when my uncle comes. He'll be hiring a car, so he won't require picking up."

"What? Ye're uncle is coming here?" he almost shouted.

"No. I mean, uncle Lamb won't be staying here in the cottage even though you told him he could. I've already booked him a place in the village centre ...close to the amenities."

He let out a sigh of relief. He didn't think he was ready to bond with Harry's look-alike ...yet. If anything, he dreaded it, afraid of other suppressed memories dying to come out and choke him with guilt.

"Jamie, I really ought to go. I promise I'll call later and explain everything."

With a groan, he pulled Claire in once more in his arms and kissed her thoroughly, and she responded with a whimper that told him she was enjoying the kiss. He hadn't even had a second to savour getting her back before the prospect of letting her go again struck him like a baseball bat between the shoulder blades. But he wanted to give her something to remember while she's away and what she'll be missing if she didn't hurry up with her work. He slipped his hand under her cardigan, caressing her nipple with the calloused pad of his thumb and pressing his burgeoning erection against her belly.

"I love ye ...always remember that." His mouth coasted along the lines of her jaw, his hands squeezing her waist. "I ken ye've been patient and understanding with me, but just try to be extra tolerant with me for now. Can ye do that?"

She nodded, her face red from beard burn. "Alright, but I do need to go, Jamie." Her eyes flashed. "And you have nothing to worry about. So please rest up tonight because you'll need a hell of a lot of energy when my uncle comes."

It's the way she looked at him, pleading for understanding that became his undoing as if she's reading his thoughts, and despite everything he'd done, she couldn't find fault with a single one. He needed to be a better man and control his emotions and needs. Her work was important to her, and she was important to him. "Fine, I'll walk ye to the car." He stooped down to get her bags and followed her outside.

They stopped beside Christie's car, and Jamie watched the other man climbed out, both men grunting a greeting at each other.

"Am I still driving ye to Inverness, Claire?" Christie asked, avoiding Jamie's eyes.

Claire nodded. "Yes, please, if that's still alright with you. I'm so sorry I took so long."

"It's nae bother, and of course, I'll drive ye to Inverness," Christie smiled warmly.

A long silence stretched as the three of them just stood there. Christie rocked on his heels, and Jamie held on to Claire's bags like it was his lifeline.

Caught up in the awkwardness of the moment, Claire bit her bottom lip. "Well, I guess that's settled then. We best get going before Mary does something like bite some poor soul's head at the airport." Claire's attempt to sound cheerful lessened the tension in the air but not the one on Jamie's shoulders. She turned to him and tried to take her bags off his hands, but he couldn't seem to let go. "Jamie ...my bags," she whispered, her hand running up and down his forearm as if to tell him everything was going to be alright.

But instead of giving Claire's bags back to her, he begrudgingly handed them to Christie while launching if looks could kill look over her head. They had a few seconds of stare off until Claire's hands on his face forced him to look at her.

"Jamie, kiss me, goodbye?"

He didn't hesitate at her request and sucked on her bottom lip as she made a sobbing noise. That wee noise she made jolted something free inside of him, and he, too, wanted to cry. He couldn't remember wanting to openly cry before. Not like this. He couldn't control it, and it dragged him down, stealing oxygen from his lungs, but Claire's touches soothed him.

"I don't want to go," she murmured against his mouth. "Not one bit. But I'm doing this for us, remember that. The sooner I'm done with work, the more time we can spend time together."

He allowed himself to wade into the shallow waters of comfort Claire was starting to represent. He'd lived with this reality for too long that he wasn't enough. Or probably worse, he was too much. For years, these memories of loss and guilt and shame had been subdued. Now they're coming out with guns blazing, and he felt totally defenceless. But with her arms around him, he felt cocooned in her bubble of protection. So he clung to her like a drunk with his last shot of whisky, the desperation inside him going into overdrive, and he was practically mauling her lips with no care whose watching, drawing her onto tiptoes so he could get all of her from every angle.

"Jamie," she whispered shakily, gently pulling away. "My phone is going off every second. Mary is probably wondering why I haven't called her."

Breathe, lad, it's going to be alright. Don't lose yer cool, or ye'll drive her away. He let go and opened the car door for her, not taking any notice of the man waiting patiently at the driver's seat. "I'm sorry," Jamie mumbled.

"It's alright." She smiled in understanding, squeezing his hand. "I'll be back before you know it."

He held on to Claire's eyes, the only tangible thing he could grasp, giving him a renewed determination to manage the condition that had ruled him all his life. At that moment, the world suddenly made sense, and he was veering into a place he didn't recognise ...a place of calm, where the voices in his head had lost their dominion over his thoughts.

He watched as Christie's Land Rover drove away and was surprised when a hand landed on his shoulder. Jamie turned around to discover Willie stood there, a smile etched on his face. Jamie had forgotten about his brother, too caught up with Claire's departure and the intense emotions he'd nearly let out of control.

"Ye did well, bràthair. I'm so proud of ye."

Jamie dropped his head forward and let out an exhale, feeling a lot lighter in days. He knew he'd only scratched the surface of their relationship, but Claire was giving him all the time in the world to get back on his feet, and he was determined not to disappoint her. Though it had been a struggle not to let his emotions take control, it was at least a start. He glanced up at his brother and smiled.

"Ye alright there, Jamie lad?" Willie playfully slapped him on the back for good measure.

"Aye, I think so." This time Jamie meant it and believed his own words. He threw an arm around Willie's shoulder, squeezed it briefly before stepping back. "And thank ye for sticking around. I owe ye one."

"Aye ye do," Willie grinned. "How about repaying me like right now and coming to work. It should keep yer mind busy and help me catch up with a long list of jobs."

Jamie didn't need prodding. His mouth curved into a smile, and he nodded his head. "After seeing Christie, I think I'm in the mood for uprooting trees."

They shared a wicked glance and then laughed out loud.

Dear Readers,

Thank you all for your patience with this story and the feedback from the previous chapter.

Mental health stories are, I personally think, the hardest to put across because it involves a lot of emotions and psychological battle that are difficult to put into words. But I was determined to write this account even though it has its challenges, so I hope I've done it justice.

Part of the reason for pushing to write such a story that delves into the mind of a tortured soul is to raise mental health awareness because there are many things that people still don't understand about this illness. In saying that, some of you were disappointed by Jamie's behaviour, and I wanted that to happen to make a point.

In real life, it's so much easier to categorise and point out someone's shortcoming instead of trying to understand the psyche of a person's behaviour. From my perspective, each of us has undoubtedly suffered a form of mental illness at least once, but not everyone has the emotional and psychological strength and maturity to cope or overcome it. Nor do they have access to help. In Jamie' case, he's got a strong network of family, and he got Claire to help him get through it.

So the moral of the story is, spread kindness because you never know what really is going on in someone's mind.

For now, take care of yourselves. Until the next update ... X

#melodyheart #wonderwall #milesbetweenus #ClaireBeauchamp/JamieFraser #claire beauchamp #jamie fraser #outlanderfanfic

78 notes · View notes

steve0discusses · 3 years

Text

Yugioh S5 Ep 19: Yugi and the Only Neck Accessory He Didn’t Really Want to Wear

Been busy! Hopefully stuff will open up soon as I’m taking a hiatus on a different quarantine project and will be finishing painting the entire roof of my car this week? One can hope. Sanding the rust off the whole top of a car takes a long time it turns out?

Also, fun Yugioh fact, I recently painted a book cover for an author who is older so she’s never seen the show, and she looked at my tumblr, saw my Duke Devlin fanart and was like “That’s him. That’s my main character. OMG. You captured him perfectly!” and I was like “Ma’am that is Duke Devlin, hence the single dice earring on his lobes there, but we can work with this.” and now a spiritual Duke Devlin is on the cover of a Wuxia-style fantasy trilogy on the Vella. Had to give him a top knot and delete the eyeliner for Wuxia reasons but uh, that’s just Duke.

So long story short, fanart can get you work, don’t even worry about posting that stuff online because most people don’t even know it’s fanart anyway and older ladies freakin love it.

Back in Yugioh, the team was doing their best to navigate a map through the woods and they do about as well as they normally do.

And inside Tristan lifted up the floorboards and was like “I found the only way out, this is it, this is the only way.”

And they ended up in something that has a color scheme I would actually associate with a jungle. Finally. We have finally left California (in order to go to another Hell.)

Youknow, when we went to California, we visited Hell, and when we went to India, we also took a stop at the nearest death destination. There’s just so much death on this show and sometimes I forget because there’s been a ghost in our party for so freakin long it’s been normalized.

(read more death imagery under the cut)

Joey freaks out at a flock of crows and reveals in this episode something I never realized about him before.

Like I’m not always the perfect observer as I’m sure you’ve noticed, but I love that this is canon for probably only this episode, but I will never forget it for the entirety of this series.

You go on hating birds, Joey.

Bro was like “Maybe it’s a deep cut about Mai Valentine because she’s a harpy lady” but eh...pretty sure we spent like an entire season of Joey telling us that Mai was a good experience? Would be incredibly funny if immediately after all of S4, Joey was like “You know what? Screw Mai, guys.”

So my thoughts...it’s probably just a literal bird experience. Like I had a friend who hated deer because once she went to a petting zoo, got some pellets to feed the deer, but her finger was sticking up, so when the deer came over to nibble on some pellets her finger went up it’s nose by accident. She was so disgusted by this event that was entirely her fault, that she brought up how much she hated deer basically whenever we saw one.

So like...maybe Joey fed a bird wrong at a petting zoo. I can see him getting bit by a parrot because he was too Joey Wheeler.

But now that we’re in a graveyard neighborhood, Pharaoh decides to hop out because there’s a lot of ghosts here and he needs to practice socializing with his peers.

So that’s just a Yugioh monster doing the ostrich dance, right? Like this is a meme from like 2010 but on Yugioh in 2003(4?)

Good to see the Ostrich dance here in the land before Vine.

So they pull out their Pokemon to do some antics, Tea looked like she was about to do something useful, and Yami does a yump across time and space to get her as far away from playing (not)cards as quickly as possible and y’all...sure was a position these animators animated.

Holy crap.

And I was going off about that scene last season where they woke up in the same bed like...

...have these two been together this entire time? Like together together?

They’re like...way more comfortable than you’d figure they’d be considering Yugi nearly passes out every time he gets a hug. But Yami just like....How long has this been going on? As long as Joey’s fear of birds?

Like obviously this show would never cover what the hell Yugi may be thinking about this overreaching move here, because we’re gonna gloss right over that, and just run away up a flight of stairs. No one mentions this ever again. Which is mind blowing for an anime to do. I think in most anime I watch, the kids would be like “ahh ahhhh I bumped into a booooob!” like it does for I want to say every other episode of My Hero Academia. But in Yugioh, they saw that low hanging fruit and they were like “we expect a higher level of maturity out of our audience. Now here’s a fleet of ostrich dancing tree monsters with faces for crotches.”

They decided to sprint up this flight of stairs, and it enough of a slope to deter the monsters who are only unbalanced weird legs.

I want us to take a moment and admire this background painting. I can’t unsee the rocks that are all the same size, just piled on top of eachother. Did Alexander the Great just plop rocks here--or was the mountain made up of tons of similarly shaped boulders?

Like there’s a lot of nice bg’s in this arc, don’t get me wrong, but this one...I’m just trying to wrap my head around the logic of it.

At the top, they meet a pantheon, that is immediately blocked by this wall, because if this arc had a tagline, it’s “Yugi gets inconvenienced every 4 seconds.”

Bro was like “Clearly they would have pushed it over if Tea wasn’t slacking off” and like...she is actually. Look at her. Only used one hand? Slacker.

Joey was disappointed he couldn’t push over a massive wall, and the team decided not to analyze how much Joey Wheeler thinks of his own strength and instead fixate on these statues.

Usually in anthro characters they kinda look birdlike but act human. But what about an anthro that’s just a bird? Like human torso, but can turn his head 180 degrees? Yugioh made me ask this question.

And then Joey was like “wait, there may be a solution that isn’t just to use brute strength!”

Youknow it is a bummer that Kaiba couldn’t witness Joey own a dragon while he himself only has a robot jet dragon. Although, the jet is probably faster, stronger and overall...better than this baby dragon. It would have been great for Kaiba to witness Joey under-utilize this dragon and forget he has it for like huge swatches of the episode.

And then Grandpa pulled some body horror out of nowhere.

Wow.

I mean that is really gross.

I guess Grandpa can’t use Blue eyes, because Kaiba ripped it up, Grandpa can’t use Exodia because Weevil tossed it off a boat, and grandpa can’t use the card that’s just a building because...it’s a building.

So instead Grandpa has a bunch of meat and bones that look like something out of Doom. It’s probably from a more obscure Konami property, but I forget which.

I’ve seen Tristan hold back Joey in this hold, first time it’s been Tea.

So much shipping in this episode, it’s wild.

It’s also wild how low my standards are for what could possibly be shipping when it comes to Yugioh because of how freakin tepid all of these characters are, which as I’ve brought up before, I really don’t mind.

So Yugi decides that because Grandpa was folding his arms like one monster and it made a gem light up or something, to just do the video game thing and use the giant ass statues as clues.

Why was this arc not a video game? Like parts of it really feel like it was meant to be.

So Yugi falls down a hole, where the walls cave in like it’s that dumpster in Star Wars but like...it barely phases him.

Also...Yugi might be able to see in the dark. It’s never been brought up but like...the more I think about it...has Yugi ever struggled to see without the lights on?

After Joey disappoints everyone, he confronts death.

And Pharaoh and Yugi decide to solve the puzzle of “how do I get out of this trap dungeon room” which, honestly, is probably what they’re doing every time they hang out in the brain pyramid.

So they summon their mascot monster, and surprisingly the show decided its ability to fly cannot help them out here.

Kuriboh manages to become enough of a doormat to push Yami up to the stone and they end up in a set of weird cuts that ended in this?

Like seriously it was like flashes of light and then they were just...up here like this.

Hey like...

Alexander the Great, my man...

Were you planning to put that stone in the middle of a exhaust vent hoping someone would touch it? Because there’s no way anyone would rationally have done that. You would need to fly to do it. This is the world’s worst DM.

Like Yugioh pulls a lot of fantasy nonsense but this arc is a lot more like a “it’s a kid’s show, just go with it.” arc than most of them. It’s not a bad vibe, necessarily, it’s just not the vibe I’m used to.

So once I witnessed maybe the most boring conversation I’ve ever witnessed about corn (this was on a twitch stream, by the way, a guy was playing an interesting game, and then a guest came on and started talking about corn and plants for 2 hours) and they would not shut up about how all taxonomy is wrong because there are no such thing as trees and how all animals are labelled incorrectly, and then they started comparing it to like all sorts of mushrooms and phytoplankton as you would if you clearly got a little bit high before dumping your corn knowledge on a twitch stream.

Anyway, after that bizarre experience I suffered so I could learn how to play an obscure video game, I think I can safely say, that while I know everyone here thinks a bird can’t be a dog. If you’re a high biologist: a bird is absolutely a dog. Apparently you can just do that if you’re the most boring biologist alive and no one will argue with you because to do that would involve talking to you. We’ll just say a bird is a dog and no one can fight me or I will talk about the corn book that this guest on this twitch chat was thinking about renting from the library about the different types of corn mutations inherent in freakin Indiana. Therefore, Joey’s fear of birds and dogs is same.

So they use Dark Magician to save them from the statues, and Yugi busts into the pantheon again because they got to open this casket before a time limit that I kind of forgot about, tbh.

And inside the casket, is...this thing!

(enjoy this line on the bottom of the image I don’t feel like fixing it)

And you may say to yourself...it looks like it’s just floating in mid-air, that’s silly, and so I want to introduce you to the next panel where you can see that it is...quite literally...just floating in the air like a video game.

and it just slurps itself onto Yugi before he can be like “nonono.”

Wasn’t there some horror movie where you were stuck in some sort of body brace that slowly tortures you (was that Saw?) This has that vibes. Like man that looks uncomfortable to wear over a jacket and two belts and a collar that is another belt.

That and I...I gotta appreciate that Yugi popped his collar while wearing body armor and chunky necklace. What 00′s fashion appreciation right there.

Bit like...this isn’t breathable, right? Like Yugi’s gonna finally take this thing off and his jacket will just be completely soaked in sweat?

Anyway, that’s it for this post, next week we’ll see if Yugi can walk through a doorway in that thing.

Also, I can’t bring up the ostrich dance without sharing the vines of my generation

youtube

#Yugioh #YGO #yu gi oh #photo recap #episode recap #S5 #Ep19 #Yugi Muto #Joey Wheeler #Joey's fear of birds I've never heard about until this episode #Tea Gardner #Grandpa Muto #Tristan Taylor #Baby Dragon #This weird ass tranformer that Yugi is wearing.

27 notes · View notes

rhysismydaddy · 3 years

Text

Unholy Matrimony Pt. 2 (Nessian)

Damnation Series

Parts 1 / 3 / 4 / 5

_____________________________________________________

~Nesta~

The day after meeting my fiancé, I drop Alexei off at the plane, tell him goodbye, and drive further down the tarmac to where Cassian’s waiting in a completely different private plane.

Very environmentally conscious, our lifestyle

The stairs are unfolded, so after making sure my luggage is transferred over, I head inside.

Cassian’s waiting, sipping bourbon despite the fact that it’s nine in the morning.

He’s dressed in dark jeans, boots, and a black long sleeve t-shirt that makes the tattoos on his hands and knuckles seem even more pronounced. He seems more comfortable now than yesterday.

Like he’s not trying to fit into the mold of a respectable gentleman in a suit.

He looks over as my heels click against the floor, eyes dragging up my legs, pausing at my chest, and scanning my face.

“Hey,” he murmurs, almost like he doesn’t know what else to say.

My lips twitch as I slide into the seat across from him, staying silent for now to throw him off.

As expected, he shifts in his seat, looking mildly uncomfortable.

Then, like he realizes what I’m doing, he narrows his eyes. “You realize that a woman who just sits there, looks pretty, and doesn’t argue is pretty much a man’s dream, right?”

A smile tugs at my lips, but I sigh like I’m not the least bit amused. “Good morning, Cassian.”

His mouth opens and closes a few times as he tries to determine the proper response for such a ground-breaking conversation opener.

He finally decides on: “You don’t have an accent.”

“Not when I speak English.”

Alexei, the hypocritical bastard, said English should sound like English and Russian should sound like Russian.

“Do you speak any other languages?” he asks, apparently not having looked in my file. He’s probably trying to figure out if his secret conversations with his fellow countrymen are safe.

“I speak Italian, since that’s what you really want to know.”

He grins, playful light in his eyes. “I think I’d like to hear that.”

An amused laugh escapes me at that, but I give him what he wants as I murmur, “Sono sicuro che lo faresti.” I’m sure you would.

His eyes seem to darken, and I roll my eyes. Men.

“I speak a little Russian, but not much,” he tells me. Considering I, unlike him, I did my homework, I already knew that.

Done with this conversation, I close my eyes and attempt to sleep. A plan that goes out the window when Cassian says confidently, “I usually only speak Italian when I fuck.”

I know he’s trying to feel me out, get a rise out of me, so I keep my voice completely deadpan as I reply, “Interesting. I tend to choose French.”

He laughs, face splitting into a humongous, goofy-looking grin. “Now that, I can’t wait to hear.”

Ah, yes. Because the idea I won’t sleep with him is unthinkable.

To me, too, but at least I’m not an asshole about it. Time to humble him a bit.

I feign like I’m not attracted to him in the slightest as I make a show of looking him over. “I never said you would, tupitsa.”

Before he can respond to me calling him a dumbass, I close my eyes and go to sleep.

~Cassian~

My fiancé passes out in a matter of seconds. It’s a little impressive, honestly. One second she’s teasing me with the thought of French whispers under silk sheets, the next she’s dead to the world.

I, unfortunately, am stuck on the first part.

Fuck, she’s hot.

It’s an effortless sort of beauty, considering she isn’t wearing makeup and her hair appears to be naturally blonde and straight.

Regardless, she looks like she just stepped off a runway.

Delicate bone structure, fierce eyes, full lips that sounded so good saying my name it took me a moment to formulate a response.

Distracting curves, sweeping hips, long legs that are currently crossed and allowing the slightest hint of lace at the top of her stocking to show.

My dick takes notice of that site, and I remind the greedy bastard she’s a Russian--an enemy--but he doesn’t seem to care. Nope, he wants me to peel those stockings down. With my teeth.

What’s somehow hotter than even her choice of legwear is the fact that she isn’t doing it on purpose. She’s completely relaxed, asleep for God’s sake, not trying to seduce me.

I grit my teeth and look out the window.

Like every other time I fly, I get restless after about ten minutes. I pull out my phone and make sure everything’s ready for when we land, work on my laptop for a bit, stare at Nesta sleeping for a longer bit, and pace the aisle like a caged lion when I start to feel like a creep.

Because I’ve been dealing with administrative shit like getting engaged, it’s been a while since I’ve done something to quell the rush in my blood.

Business, surprisingly, is boring when an army of hateful Russians isn’t trying to kill you all the time. I haven’t fought in days, haven’t shot my gun in longer.

I send Ricardo a text and have him set up a fight for tonight, but even the thought of the coming violence does nothing to help me calm down.

By the time we land, I��m more than ready to get the hell out of this plane.

Nesta wakes up when the wheels touch down, stretching and looking annoyingly well rested.

As the plane taxis, I tell her, “I have to work tonight.”

It’s a lie, and she cocks her eyebrow like she knows it. But she doesn’t call me on it, doesn’t even seem that interested. “I already requested a separate car.”

My brows furrow because I hate being predictable, but I keep my mouth shut.

Nesta stands as the stairs drop open, straightening her dress and pulling it down over the lacey top of her stockings that are now right in front of my face.

Before I even realize what she’s about, there’s a sharp smack to the bottom of my chin that forces my head up. She tsks, shaking her head teasingly.

“What was that for?” I ask, even though I already know.

She grabs her bag, and I follow as she walks down to the tarmac. “Somnophilia.”

I take a second to look up what the hell that is, laughing so hard I have tears in my eyes when I find the definition. Nesta shakes her head, small smile on those distracting lips, and walks to her waiting driver.

“I’ll see you at home, wife,” I call, not able to resist.

She just flips me the bird over her shoulder, making me laugh again.

Like I said, not what I was expecting.

~Nesta~

Things with Cassian are going... well, I guess.

He has the emotional maturity of a seventeen year old boy, but he isn’t terrible. As long as he stays out of my way, I dare say this marriage might work.

He’ll go about his business, I’ll go about mine, and we’ll avoid each other for happily ever after just like the fairytales say.

I shake my head as Maxim, one of the first New York transplants, navigates us through the city and to Sera. I’ve visited all my clubs at least once, and I have to admit, this one is by far my favorite.

As it should be.

The other three I run in New York were all my father’s originally. Built by a man, for the entertainment of men, I have to say they aren’t places I’d visit myself.

But I built Sera from the ground up, and while it’s designed to appeal to both men and women, men are--for the first time in history--not the priority.

The building it’s located in is a skyscraper, one I rent out to different businesses that don’t need an entire place to themselves. The ground floor is a bank, one that discretely cleans Russian money and makes us more through interest.

All in all, an unremarkable location to the public eye.

But every night, after normal banking hours have long passed, a select number of guests are invited to Sera--a speakeasy-type burlesque club with a hidden entrance in the secondary vault of the bank.

It’s secret, exclusive, and private as hell.

When we get to the bank, I enter the passcode on the side door--changed nightly--and walk through the silent lobby to the back room where the bouncer sits on a wooden stool.

“Privet, boss,” the burly man greets, sweeping the door open and ushering me through with a meaty hand. “Man in the back is asking for the owner.”

I nod and step inside, the door immediately closing behind me.

It’s the perfect level of crowded; enough people that no one stands out but not packed to the point of misery. By design, of course.

Everything seems to be the same as when I visited a few months ago except for the changed flooring I had installed last week. The tables and booths in the back are full of people captivated by the jazz singer on stage, a woman I discovered while walking to a business meeting in Paris.

Her cigarette-roughened voice had pulled me in, much like it does the audience now, and I’d offered her a job on the spot.

One of the bartenders, an ex-con who was locked up for stealing insulin for his diabetic daughter, smiles at me and slides me a tumblr of vodka as I make my way over.

“Good to see you,” Dima greets warmly. “How long are you here for?”

“Permanently.”

His eyebrows shoot up, which makes sense, considering the engagement hasn’t been announced properly. We’re apparently having a party of some kind in two weeks to celebrate the big news.

“I’ll explain later,” I tell him, noticing a group of people approaching the bar.

He nods, and I slip away towards the back corner where a roped-off set of stairs lead down to the basement below.

Like usual, there’s a private poker game happening in the main room of the bottom floor, and I stop to make say a few hellos but eventually move on to the hallway containing offices for some of the management.

The soldier stationed at the door to mine nods in acknowledgement, then tells me a whale’s inside.

My brows raise at the idea of a big-time investor coming to see me at this hour, but I shrug and walk in, shoulders back and face blank. I learned a long time ago to never let my emotions play out on my face.

The man waiting inside looks to be in his forties, richer than sin, and cold. Mafia, undoubtedly. His dark eyes rake over me, and he asks in a tone I don’t appreciate, “Who the fuck are you?”

“Nesta Orlov. You requested to speak to me?”

His bushy brows pinch together. “No, I want to speak to the owner.”

“One and the same.”

“I was told Cassian Azara is the owner.”

My jaw clenches at the thought that we’ve been engaged for less than two days and people already assume my shit is his. “By who?” I ask, remembering our upcoming nuptials aren’t even public news yet.

“My Capo.”

That gets my attention.

Rhysand’s telling people my club is Cassian’s? Why?

Something isn’t right.

I might not know the Italian boss, but I’ve heard he’s straightforward. Ruthless but honest. So why would he lie?

A little voice inside my head whispers, What if he isn’t?

Mind whirling, I turn to the man and smile politely even though it’s the last thing I feel like doing. “Would you mind giving me a moment? If you go upstairs, our bartender will get you anything you want, on the house.”

He shrugs and leaves, and as soon as the door clicks shut, I go to my desk and pull up the electronic copy of our marriage contract.

Like I thought, nothing’s amiss.

I read this shit thoroughly enough to know exactly what I was getting into, and in case I missed anything, I had my private lawyer scan over it.

But that little voice, that gut feeling, refuses to go away. So I grab my bag and look through the physical copy, dread unfurling when I notice an extra page tucked in the middle.

It’s a prenup.

One I’ve never seen.

And there, smack dab in the middle, is a line declaring the deed to Sera the property of Cassian Azara.

A rough breath forces its way out of me, and for a second, I’m so angry, so blind with rage, I can’t hardly think. What the hell is going on?

I force myself to think through this, to rationalize what I’m seeing.

Replaying the moment in the Capo’s office, I realize the switch between the original and this version of the contract must’ve happened prior. I was only in there a few minutes and had the papers in my hand the whole time.

Which means...

Alexei picks up on the first ring, like he was waiting for the call. “Da.”

“What the hell have you done?”

He sighs. “What needed doing.”

“That’s bullshit, and you know it. I wasn’t the one who started a goddamn war with the Italians, and yet I’m the one who’s paying all the prices. I’m marrying the bastard, for fuck’s sake. Give him one of your clubs.”

His tone hardens. “He didn’t want anything else.”

“I don’t give a shit! This place is my property. It isn’t yours to give away.” I take a deep breath and try to quiet the rushing in my veins. “That idiot will run it into the ground.”

There’s a long moment, and I swear he sounds a little guilty as he says calmly, “He has more than a few businesses of his own, Nesta. It will be fine.”

I pinch my lips together to keep from cursing the man who raised me.

“If you read the document,” he says, a strange note to his voice. “You’ll notice there are a number of clauses.”

My eyes scan to the bottom of the page, and I read as Alexei continues. “He is permitted from selling, unless to you. The investors have the option to vote him out at any time. And if he is unfaithful to you or ends the engagement for whatever reason, Sera is returned to you in full.”

All the violence, all the rage, seems to dim. Just a little.

This is so like Alexei; in fact, it was one of his first lessons to me.

Give someone the illusion of winning, and they’ll sign anything you want them to.

I read through the clauses again, lips twitching. “Let me get this straight. If I can prove Cassian Azara--notorious playboy of New York--is cheating on me, the club is mine? And if the board at Sera votes him out, he can’t fight it?”

I can practically hear my father’s smile. “Da.”

“Or if I drive him crazy and he ends the engagement?”

“Da.”

Sounds easy enough. I drive Alexei absolutely insane and have never had a long-term relationship. I’ll have him running for the hills in no time.

One thing doesn’t make sense, though. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I knew if I told you, you wouldn’t sign. It’s still a risk, even with the clauses” He takes a deep breath. “I never told you, but we were losing the war in New York. We would’ve lasted another year, and then we would’ve lost the city.”

“Alexei-”

“I need this alliance to hold, Volchonok,” he says. “And either of you calling off the engagement or divorcing the other is grounds for the war to start back up.”

“So you’re saying I still need to marry him.”

He gruffs a confirmation, and my brain whirls as it thinks of a new plan.

My options are down to three: have him sell to me, prove he’s cheating, or get the board to vote him out.

“One more thing. You only have until the wedding. Once you’re married, the only way to get your property back is if he signs the deed to you.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose, moving my timeline up by a factor of a hundred. Checking the calendar proves what I already know: I have less than thirty days to somehow convince one of the most notoriously stubborn men in the world to give me a multi-million dollar company.

Easy.

“I’m... sorry. For lying.”

I’m so shocked he just apologized--something he’s never done in my twenty-five years of life--it takes me a moment to respond and tell him he’s forgiven. “Ty proshchen, otets.”

I disconnect the call and swivel around in the chair, a smile pulling on my lips.

I’m going to drive him fucking crazy. All while I make him fall in love with me.

Oh, Cassian. I almost feel sorry for you.

_______________________________________________________

NEXT CHAPTER

#nessian #nessian fanfiction #acosf fanfiction #acosf #nesta archeron #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acomaf #acowar #a court of thorns and roses

112 notes · View notes

tonystarktogo · 3 years

Text

Are you alive? a friend who’s known me since high school texted me a week ago. It was a fair question.

The last two-three months I’d gradually stopped using various social media platforms and messenger apps -- which is actually kind of impressive when you consider that being active on social media is part of my job but turns out if you try hard enough you really can accomplish surprising things. I’d stopped replying to texts and keeping track of group chats. I’d fallen out of communication with everyone I didn’t interact with at work or at home and since I work from home currently that’s very short list.

It wasn’t a deliberate move on my part. I hadn’t decided to stop being on social media or Whatsapp or any other messenger service. I hadn’t even consciously thought about what I was doing.

All that really registered on my end was that work was a hell of a lot stressful and that the thought of opening one of those apps, of having to reply to messages and keep up with everything happening in my social circles was exhausting and I lacked both the time and more importantly the energy for it.

And the very much not funny part? When my friend texted me, when I realized that I’d been gone for months at this point and that my friends, hell, even my sports instructor had noticed, that they were getting concerned over my radio silence -- that didn’t make me feel good or valued.

It made me feel guilty for putting them through that. It made the thought of having to open those apps, of having to reply to all those ‘Are you alright?’ messages even harder and all the more terrifying.

[continues under the cut]

I ended up drawing my “return” out for another week before I finally gathered up the courage to just get it over with. So I did. I wrote all those awkward messages about what was going on in my life and how I just felt exhausted all the time and wasn’t in the mental state to be on these various apps and I apologized for dropping out of contact and worrying them. And to be honest the response was amazing. My friends were understanding and encouraging, one assured me that if she’d been seriously worried she would have texted or called, three others told me to take all the time off whichever media I needed to take care of myself.

And it made me realize a couple of things:

1. This whole idea that we always have to respond to a message immediately, that we can’t put it aside when it’s not actually that important (no matter how hilarious the GIF may be) that because being “online” means being able to reach people all over the world at all times doesn’t mean we have to be present 24/7. In fact holding ourselves to that standard can be incredibly harmful because as much as I love the online communities and everything these platforms and services enable us to do -- it’s just not realistic for them to be our only or even our top priority all the time.

And it’s so easy to build up this idea in your head of all those expectations other people have and how you’re disappointing and failing them but just because that’s what my fears and my bad conscience is telling me doesn’t make it true. And it doesn’t mean I’m not allowed to slip or to make a mistake, it doesn’t mean others aren’t going to understand once I explain it to them.

2. I want to create better habits for how I use these communication tools and apps. Not because I have to or because I owe it to anyone but because my current habits make me feel guilty and bad about myself and I don’t want that. I want to feel confident in how I spend my time and navigate the different aspects of my life and online platforms are a part of it.

Right now there are a lot of outside factors that I only have limited control over that influence how much free time I have and where I spend it. So since I can’t realistically make plan for when I will use which platforms at the moment, I’ve decided instead to improve my communication. When it gets to much, when I have to pull back to take care of myself and just cannot be on any of these services and platforms, I want my friends to know that so they don’t worry and know through which channels they should contact me if they really need to.

I’m not expecting a miracle here, but I’m working on it and I hope it will pay off the next time I pull a full on social-anythings black-out. Because there will be a next time.

3. Having these awkward but very necessary conversations in my offline life made me realize that it’s been even longer (far longer actually) since I’ve been active here on Tumblr. So, while it’s already been over half a year or something and I’m not even sure if anyone reads these updates anymore, for anyone who is interested or concerned, I wanted to let you know where I’m currently at and what you can expect from this blog (and my other blogs on this site) in the nearby future.

Here it goes: Fandom is an important part of my life. This -- and my continuous love for Tony Stark -- is why I continue to come back to this blog at random intervals.

During the last year of my life I’ve written a master thesis, which was then followed by starting to work full-time. The sad truth is, I currently don’t have the time I used to have to invest into this blog and I have huge respect for all the other amazing people in this fandom who have a better work/life/fandom balance than I do.

I miss this platform -- okay, no, I mostly miss the wonderful people and the great interactions I’ve had with so many individuals on here. I miss it a lot. Which is why I’m going through something of a “trial run” in the coming month.

In March 2021, I’m going to work less hours and thus have more time to be social (while maintaining a cool, physical distance, #thanksCovid19) and more importantly creative. Which is what I’m going to be this March. I can’t tell you yet what this will mean for this blog.

As of today (28th of February) I’m not sure if MCU can be my main focus since I’m planning to finally finish my KHR project and hopefully continue my GoT/HP crossover and one SNP fic as well. But I don’t want to stress out about that right now. This weekend was the first weekend I got into writing again since early January and I’m planning to enjoy it.

So I’m planning to be more active again here during March and see what kind of pace and content I can reasonably manage and feel inspired to create. At the end of the month, I’m going to give you all another update (what can I say, I just love updates) and decide where to go from there.

This has been one hell of a ramble post so kudos to anyone who made it to the very end of it. I hope you are doing well, I hope we’ll continue to see each other on this blog in the coming weeks and I hope if there’s anything you take away from this post it is this:

You are not obligated to be available 24/7 on any site or platform you use. Please take care of yourself and put your mental health first and the social convention of replying to a message second. (And maybe let them know that you’re doing alright or that you’re not doing alright once you are ready and in the right mindset for it, but that’s a bonus question, not a mandatory duty.)

#ReRe rambles #like holy shit do i ramble #blog update #blog news #if you're wondering where this blog is going 1) you might want to read under the cut to 2) realize i have no idea either #social media #messenger services #work life fandom balance #or imbalance as the case may be #personal #really just me ranting at my own inability to handle responding to messages #being available is hard #being grown up is hard #i want a fucking refund #the bold message at the end is really just me screaming at myself so that my stupid brain finally gets the message gdi

62 notes · View notes

demonslayedher · 3 years

Note

Your content on Kny is interesting, being a Kny fan I would like to share a cusiority. During the final battle did you notice that the Hashira were passive about the death of some? When Shinobu died only Tanjiro had a reaction because of how busy he was; Mitsuri didn't seem sad and when Iguro remembered who died in the middle of the final battle he didn't even mention her. What did you think? It would have been nice if Gotouge had shown us what the Hashira's thought when the others died

[cont.] I'm the anonymous person who asked you the question about the Hashira who fell in the fight, Tumblr makes people write very little. Apart from Tanjiro they seemed cold to me, even for Tokito; the only one affected was Himejima; when always Iguro mentioned him during the clash with Muzan it was like he was thinking normally. There wasn't time to mourn for the dead but I was expecting a slightly deeper reaction. Anyway for Shinobu yes there was Inosuke and Kanao but the pillars are important too

Thank you for the Ask, time to get into it! This served as a good excuse to flip back through of a lot of the later volumes... or rather, a huge chunk of the series. Short Answer: I don’t think Mitsuri knew about Shinobu’s death. Longer Answer: A walk-through of the Pillars’ situations in the final showdown and a partial analysis of Kimetsu-style story pacing.

Disclaimer: I finished this around 2am. I chose to leave it rambling and unedited and typo-ridden. HAVE MY FEELS, I’M DISHING THEM.

(Disclaimer: This isn’t meant to be a plug for my own fics, but since they are born out of my emotional experience of canon, mentions will make their way in. U fu fu.) First, absolutely yes on there being no time to mourn. From the moment the Ubuyashiki Mansion blows up in volume 16 to the actual end of the fighting in volume 23, that is one hell of a night; this final arc(s) had NO CHILL. Like, wow. It’s been a long time since I followed another battle-driven manga, but that seems like a lot, especially for a relatively short series. And I was initially happy to dismiss all the lack of satisfying sadness as being due to the fact that they are in *PANIC MODE* and entirely focused on fighting, but that is also not necessarily the case; they do come off slightly cold. I want to touch a bit on what we want to see the characters mourn each other, but also why I think it works out a bit better that we didn’t; from a purely narrative standpoint. LET THEM BE SAD: Parasocial Needs Science says we form bonds with fictional characters that affect our brains in very similar and impactful ways, so our feelings are legit when they get killed off. It affects us like a breakup or other goodbye and makes us crave closure. As for my own assumptions, we look for proxy characters in-universe to give those characters we love the attention we wish to; their sadness validates our sadness, watching them get emotional can be super cathartic, and a good mourning arc can provide satisfying closure. This is something we got with Rengoku, canonically loved by like, everyone. Hell, even the guy who killed him was sad. Just to rub salt into it, the most recent fanbook that includes a section about how the Pillars see each other, and it drives home that even if we never saw much or any canon interaction between him and any other given character, they’re all like, “Oh yeah, Rengoku, he’s a great guy.” And, he’s the only character we really get space to mourn, pacing-wise. First, because of when it happens in the plot, this gives the story time to show us each and everyone one of the Pillars hearing the news; it gives them times to process it (which Tokitou clearly needed), and most of us, it takes us in depth through how it affects Tanjirou, our main character whose emotions that we, the readers, are most in touch with. Rengoku got star treatment in the way he was mourned, and we readers get to lap that up. So then when we don’t get that in-universe star mourning treatment, it does feel a bit jarring by comparison. Gotouge did say she was sorry to hurt everyone, but these are the conditions the little humans were up against all along and a point driven home again and again; even with power on par with demons through the attainment of a mark; even Pillars are just breakable humans who will never be able to regenerate like demons can, hence why their stakes are so much higher in every battle they go into. Furthermore, the Pillars are more ready for this than anyone else, they of all the characters would be the best at keeping their emotions in check in the heat of a battle. Which means they had to keep them in check for seven volumes of near constant battle, love it or hate it. KIMETSU LOGIC: The Writing Sins That Make This Manga What It Is I could go on and on and on and on about the writing sins this manga commits and how it shows that it’s Gotouge’s first time writing something of this length. In manga not all of it can be blamed on the author alone because the editors have a very significant influence, but yeah, this is not the most amazingly crafted story out there, by a long shot. Would I change any of it, though? Well, a few things, yes, of course, out of personal preference. But on the whole, no. It’s the collective errors that stamp KnY with its style and make it what it is, and I find it as endearing as all the randomly super goofy art. Now, when it comes to the lack of Pillars reacting to new of each others’ deaths, I wouldn’t necessarily classify that itself as a fault, and if I were Gotouge’s editor, I probably would have encouraged her to keep it to a minimum too. After all, I would be considered with selling a new shot of tension with every week’s installment to keep any readers from getting bored with the constant battle. And dang it, THAT TENSION WAS HIGH, those battles were remarkably emotional and tense through and through. The breaks in tension that we got were necessarily and not distracting, with the notable exception of Iguro’s past. That was clumsy placement. I’ll be honest, I didn’t bond with Iguro as much as a character because he lost his earlier chances to be appealing to me, and by the time the chapter with his flashback came out, I DIDN’T CARE, I waited anxiously all week to see what was happening to Tanjiro and was invested enough to have an appetite for the additional Sumiyoshi and Yoriichi bits, but dang it, Snake Pillar was getting in the way of what my emotions were primed for at that point. But, such is the way of fickle weekly readers; with THAT MUCH tension going on, readers crave a little breather here and there with a look at who else might taking in a breather in a flashback. We got bits and pieces of that mostly through flashback, like Tamayo’s memories of conversation with Shinobu experienced in real time through Muzan, as well as in-real-time moments with the characters having very slight chances to catch their breath (no pun intended). But, how well those breaths worked depending on each character, and how the readers’ emotions were getting slammed week to week. Just like how I as a weekly reader (by that point) had no appetite for an Iguro flashback while eager to move forward, there likewise would have been limited appetite for mourning, and we’re stuck with who we got as proxy characters to react through. ACTION, REACTION: The Rhythm of Basic Writing Advice It has often been said that in writing, something should happen in a scene, and the next scene should be a reaction to it. In the next scene something new happens, and likewise, there is a reaction. We could also thing of this as stages within the same scene, like the part when the music changes or the moment the battle has ended but we’re still on the battlefield. In Rengoku’s case, we got one big happening, and then a whole lot of reaction drizzled through the story after that. In the Infinity Fortress case, we get a big happening with the Ubuyashiki Mansion blowing up and then--a big happening!--a big happening!--a big happening--! A--uh oh, there’s a reactio---NEVERMIND, THINGS ARE STILL HAPPENING, GOTOUGE, PLEASE, THIS HURTS, OW, OW, HOW ARE YOU SO CRUEL, WE GET IT, THIS SITUATION IS AWFUL, PLEASE STOP HURTING THEM---

The reactions are there, scattered throughout. They’re short, but they sure make themselves count. While Tanjirou is our Empathy Personified hero, it’s natural that we get more of his reactions, but the lack of them in other characters is, I would say, a natural fault of having a huge cast to work with it. Once you start dragging too many other characters into the reactions, the actions have trouble moving forward, and with the level of seven volumes worth of tension it’s the actions that keep readers hooked and buying magazines. THEY’RE ONLY CORVIDS, OK: Now We’re Actually Looking At Canon Details Now that all being said, although it’s easy to dismiss a lot of Kimetsu Logic as amateurish at first, on further reflection, the little worldbuilding logic does excuse itself for not plunging each of the characters into a period of reaction to actions happening elsewhere. Not all the birds had Yushiro’s papers. Not all birds were created equal. It’s really hard to navigate that place. Ergo, communication was probably highly imperfect; not all the crows knew everything going on. We don’t feel that as readers because we’re seeing Kiriya and his sisters get all the available communications. In Iguro and Mitsuri’s case in particular, I suspect that might not even had been Mitsuri’s crow (as that one has a distinct personality and accessory) giving her orders to gather where Muzan is. It was probably any old down-to-business crow working with the information it had as clearly as it could in the battle that was most difficult to physically navigate. If Mitsuri’s crow (named Urara in the most recent fanbook) had been there, I imagine she’d have been having difficulty that whole time to even stay within a close range of that battle. Furthermore, a crow like that with a strong bond with Mitsuri might had also judged that telling her about Shinobu’s death was a dangerous distraction, and chosen to withhold information. The fanbook specifies that Iguro’s crow Yuuan was the one who told him about how Tokitou got a red blade (in fact, this is basically the only thing said of this crow besides its name and gender). To able to report in such detail that Iguro could analyze that Tokitou attained the red blade by the strength of his grip, that probably quite an accomplishment to have either witnessed that much, or to pass on crucial information that detailed and quickly. At that time, Iguro and Mitsuri were physically separated and she was distracted by the crow giving her orders to gather where Muzan was, so she might not even have overheard that Tokitou had died. As for Iguro, the second fanbook tells us that because Tokitou was young he had hoped he wouldn’t die. There was no opportunity to mourn him, and they weren’t close enough for that to throw him off much from battle, but on a Pillar to Pillar level, I think the amount of thought Iguro did dedicated to Tokitou showed a certain level of esteem for him and regret at this passing. What would have been nice? Maybe a little look over his shoulder to Mitsuri like “I hope she didn’t hear that.” That would have revealed a tender side of Iguro in a very short use of panels. I want to come back to analyzing Mitsuri’s reaction later, so let’s keep focusing on the loss of Tokitou. Once he attained more of his sense of self back, it seems he preferred the company of Corp Members closed to him in age (if we go by his little flashbacks, which in true Kimetsu Logic, are things we didn’t know about until they come up in flashbacks). Most of the Pillars weren’t especially close with him, even if they did care about his wellbeing, as they seemed particular aware of how young he was. Sanemi probably had never interacted much with Tokitou until that battle, and *OKAY, HERE IT IS, THE UPCOMING FANFIC SELF-PLUG* one of the things I really liked working with in my post-canon fic is that there’s a point at which thinking about Tokitou forces Sanemi to deal with all the trauma he’s buried from that battle. I figure it would hit him later; he had a good excuse of a distraction. Ugh. Man. My heart hurts again thinking of that chapter. Let’s also not forget, after Himejima showed his respects for Tokitou both quickly and sincerely, he couldn’t allow Sanemi to deal with Genya’s death until after everything was over. All the Pillars had to think like this. What would had been nice? I liked this reaction scene to two simultaneous and horrific deaths exactly as it was. Ow. Ahhhh. Owwwwww, it’s hurting again. This is catharsis exactly the way I like it. Let’s keep going with Himejima, the only one to have known to expect all this, and who stayed ready and likely hoped to bring down Muzan all by himself without any other sacrifices (welp, so much for that). There’s a scene in the novels that implies he had some idea that Shinobu wasn’t intending to make it out of the upcoming battle(s) alive, and I imagine he felt the same regret and bitter acceptance in advance that he also felt with Ubuyashiki. If we heard the news about Shinobu like Tanjirou and Giyuu did, I imagine he was hurt but it wouldn’t have been noticeable, and he probably would not be surprised even at how quickly it happened. What would had been nice? Anything. Just a “How pitiful” and some tears as he runs through the halls woulda’ been great. So since Giyuu did hear it loud and clear with Tanjirou, I first want to point out that whether that was Tanjirou’s crow or not (might not had been, because his crow was busy with a letter delivery from Senjurou at the time too), that crow must had loved to shared details; maybe even details that were not necessary. Like, would telling the lower level Corp members everything really help? Wouldn’t the loss of each Pillar make them lose their nerve? Was it because that crow was wearing one of Yushiro’s papers that it had to report extra detail for Ubuyashiki HQ? Whatever the case, Giyuu is initially shocked about Shinobu and then is like, “what is that paper the crow has? It sure is reporting things fast.” What would have been nice? ANYTHING MORE THAN ONE PANEL OF SHOCK. Come on, Giyuu, give the GiyuuShino shippers S O M E T H I N G. Granted, if Tanjirou had been killed in battle with Akaza, I believe Giyuu would have had an initial outburst of emotion, but then gotten himself under control real quick and stayed that way until it was safe to break down (which he did immediately later on, since the threat was gone--but he was just as soon picking up a sword and stabbing him, so again, Pillar-mode must come before experiencing emotions). I interpret canon as that even though Giyuu might had found it easily to address Shinobu in conversation due to frequency in how much they had conversed and the fact that she would usually talk to him first, he would never had considered himself especially close with her (since he never saw himself close with any of the Pillars). I feel their relationship had potential to grow closer if Giyuu had actually gone out of his way to communicate more with her, and he probably would had if they both survived, but at the time she died he probably still felt a distance, which is why it did him harder when Tanjirou--someone who Giyuu did actually get to a point of enjoying conversation with--was dead right in front of him. (Side not, oh man, OH MAN, being a weekly reader was so tough then. I still have so many emotions from that week. Oh man. Oof. Ouch.)

Of note, Giyuu had the best opportunity for reflection on a comrade’s death since he had enough recovery time once he woke up to build a fire and treat wounds, and Tanjirou took that chance to read a letter.

What would have been nice? AGAIN, GIYUU, ANYTHING, but after that battle I think he deserved to disassociate a bit. Also of note, I don’t know that they had complete information either, because NO ONE (by “no one” I mean Tanjirou and Inosuke) seemed to hear anything about Zenitsu single-handedly killing Upper Moon Six and surviving it. What would had been nice: “Good for you, Zenitsu, I hope you’re okay” or “Six? Again? Didn’t we already do that? There was a third??” or “well I got Upper Moon Two SO THERE” or “..........are you sure?” or even way, way after all is said and done, off in epilogue times, “you fought WHO by YOURSELF???” but I digress. Now back to Shinobu, losing her so early on in this marathon of high-stakes battles made her death seem forever ago by the time we got to another Pillar death. It would had been nice for more of them to react both with “no, not Shinobu!” and “we are in deep trouble” sort of ways. That made the glimpses we got of her in flashback feel way, way more nostalgic, since for our experiences as readers, she had already been gone a very long time. I like that the battle with Douma got stretched over so long a span of the manga, they really showed the stakes in how difficult of a foe he was, even if that battle was itself was relatively shorter than others. And as stand-ins for the readers to mourn Shinobu, I love how we got that both through Kanao and through Inosuke. But yes, it sure would had been nice to get something from... Mitsuri. Now, if I had only read the events of canon, manga chapter to manga chapter, and even the Taisho Secrets, I still never would have guessed that Shinobu and Mitsuri had such a warm friendship. I know this purely from the fanbooks and novels, and that is something I find a writing error that detracts a lot from the work. Some of the most apt criticism I’ve heard of the Kimetsu pacing is that it could have stood to give us one of more arc to bond with the characters at least a little more, so we could really, really be emotional over loosing them. We get all our spare Pillar interactions in works outside of canon and after Tanjirou initially gets to know Shinobu, he has no more on-screen interactions with her; she mostly appears in Taisho Secrets. Pillar Training was fun and all, but maybe another arc with stakes in it that occurs closer to home and brings out some different sides of the Pillars in Tanjirou’s presence, instead of each of them getting one dance each with our protagonist. That would had been a chance to show Shinobu and Mitsuri’s friendship, in which case, we would had really, really wanted to see Mitsuri’s reaction. But, Mitsuri had a job to do in the very, very, very heavy tension and battles that ran in weekly magazines for months on end. She carried the very heavy weight of needing to provide brevity. Her silliness contrasted against all that tension was fresh air for readers who had been holding their breath (no pun intended! kinda) through so much. And man, our reliance on her for that made it hurt all the more when things suddenly got very serious for her. But, that means she was also unable to play a heavy emotional role too early on. There wasn’t room to give her a satisfyingly emotional reaction to Shinobu or Tokitou; when after all, this is the girl who was fretting about dearly beloved Oyakata-sama, was horrified to see the explosion, angirly attacked Muzan, but was saved from certain doom almost immediately after she was taken by surprise in the Infinity Fortress, and then she’s BACK TO 100% FANGIRL MODE. Like, giiiiiiiiiirl, Oyakata-sama just diiiiiiied, tone it down a notch. I feel like I had more to say. OH YEAH. WHERE DO WE GO FROM HERE?: To fanfic, duh. Going back to reaction and action and producing something with sellable pacing, again, I wouldn’t risk bogging down the tension-heavy final arc with too much open sadness (less is more definitely applies when the reaction scenes were often SO GOOD), but it clearly set up the desire for it. And, the length and intensity with which a work of fiction can live rent-free in audiences’ minds is a measure of its success. If we MUST turn to fanfiction to get that emotional closure (or force the Pillars to get theirs), then this is proof of a job well done in making us care. Herein lies the freedom with fanfiction: It doesn’t have to be good. It doesn’t have to sell. It doesn’t have to fit a regular serialized format. Fanfic is whatever it wants, all it has to do is indulgently scratch an itch. I have way more stomach for sappiness in fanfic than in original canon, because I have higher expectations of canon to honor writing conventions, and to make decisions that will serve the overall story, not necessarily cater to my tastes. But fanfic? Fanfic, you are here to serve me. Dive into those characters’ dry eyes with a jackhammer and gives me their tears. I don’t care how much you have to fry their brains to do it, give it to me. I mean, I don’t write fanfic like that, noooo. At least, not that I post publicly. Ssh. No one needs to know aaaaaall my particular canon itches I wish to have picked raw. But all the more power to people who DO post that publicly and provide a great service to all the other people with that same need. But, in the spirit of writing fic that tries to honor the spirit of canon, I try to sprinkle the juicy emotional potential canon could have had around as needed, to draw out what I feel canon just didn’t have the opportunity to give us. It’s ultimately self-servicing for what I wish canon would had done, but my style of published fic does try to stay widely appealing as a gen fic. Everybody’s got their own balances and tastes, and that’s cool. And that is freedom canon authors don’t have. I’ll conclude by saying that, although we as readers collectively earned it, the ending of Kimetsu no Yaiba was too bright and happy and specifically chose bittersweet moments that would be easy to swallow (pretty smart for a quick ending), but entirely skipped all the really heavy stuff in the immediate aftermath.

And yes, as difficult (and even dull) as it would be to slog through, there’s a part of me that wants to see all that, for the sake of closure.

And now I sleep byyyyezzzzzzzzz

#KnY fandom theories and meta #KnY Spoilers #tw death #KnY nerdery #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer

63 notes · View notes

skeletalroses · 3 years

Text

I was going to submit this anonymously to one of the bigger aspec blogs but it got so long that I’d feel like a pain in the ass. I’m posting this because I’ve recently landed in a bit of a difficult situation in the vein of Just Aroace Things, and I’m not sure what to do or even how to feel. I’m hoping to get some advice from the community re: a topic that comes up from time to time---navigating roommate/housing situations as an aroace, particularly when your potential roommate’s romance fucks you over.

I met my best friend, A, our sophomore year of college when we got paired up via roommate lottery. We clicked right away and had a blast living together. Unfortunately it only lasted a year, since the best option for my major was to transfer to another campus while for her it was best to stay put. We’ve known each other for nine years now and live in different states, but we visit regularly and had always talked about living together again once we both moved away from our parents.

I’m aroace, sex- and romance-repulsed. A is super considerate and supportive of this. She even discovered recently that she’s demisexual (which she learned about while researching the symbolism of the asexual flag! On her own, completely unprompted! Because she thought it would help her understand me more! See? Super supportive!). She is, however, very, very alloromantic. Up until now this has just been one more facet of our overall odd-couple dynamic (I’m an Addams and she’s a Disney fairy), which has always been something we’ve laughed at and reveled in.

A couple months ago, however, A moved out of her parents’ place and in with her boyfriend of a few years. I’m still with my parents, which suits me fine for the time being, but I eventually want to move out. Like I said, A and I have long talked about living together. We never made any specific plans, but I’ve asked her before to verify that yes, this is a thing we’re both Actually down to do when the time’s right. But that was a good while ago, before she moved in with Boyfriend. We visited last weekend and I brought up the subject again, because I’ve been unsure about it since that whole development.

“Feel free to say no; I won’t be offended; I just want to know how my options stand at this point. We’ve talked in the past about rooming together again. With Boyfriend in the picture now, is that still on the table?”

A’s answer: “Boyfriend has a lot of anxiety, so probably not. Sorry. He doesn’t even like having his family stay over. You’re welcome to stay a few days but not for like weeks on end.”

This was a calm conversation had over cocktails in the mall. She asked to make sure my parents weren’t threatening to kick me out or anything; I assured her that they weren’t, and I wasn’t moving anytime soon, and it’s okay that my rooming with her is out.

Only I’m not that okay with it. I wasn’t confident she’d say yes, but I did kind of think it was likely, and moreover I’m realizing how much I was unconsciously banking on that plan. I’ve been sans income during the pandemic, and I have a fuckton of economic anxiety to begin with. A’s a STEM major in a big city who easily found a solidly-paying job right out of college. She gets promotions and raises and shit. I’m a humanities major in the middle of Bumfuck, Nowhere where all my impressive qualifications (which I do have) can’t get me anything with a living wage below management level, let alone something in my field. And I’m never going to have that built-in cohabitant in the form of a romantic or sexual partner that allos like A can take for granted. A was the person I could split costs with so as to maybe live semi-decently with someone compatible. Without her, my chances of having that have plummeted.

And it’s all because she got a romosexual partner. This guy who’s known her half as long as I have; who never worked her through the trials and eventual breakup of her previous long-term, engaged-to-be-engaged relationship; who has himself caused her massive amounts of grief, suffering, and sometimes outright danger through his inability to competently handle the drama in his personal life that should never have touched her, all while her mother would write letters to me asking me to come visit because, actual quote, A only smiles when I’m around. He was the reason she would be too depressed to function, and I had to long-distance therapize her through it even though she refused to take the basic step of leaving this grown-ass man at least until he got his shit together, because “he needs me.”

It’s like this dude calls the shots in A’s and my relationship now. I hadn’t seen her in seven months because every time we planned a weekend to hang out, it’d get canceled because Boyfriend wanted to go see his family or something (and he can’t do that without her, I fucking guess). Even this last visit got cut down to overnight when it was supposed to be the long weekend, because Boyfriend wanted to make other plans. And now my best option for future living arrangements is apparently down the shitter because of him. It’d have been one thing if A doesn’t want to live with me anymore because she and he need their allo space or whatever the fuck couples do (still amatonormative and lousy for me). But as far as I understand, it’s not even that. It’s not her. It’s Boyfriend. A and I can be planning something for the two of us for weeks, for months, for years, then it all goes away in a minute because ehh, it kinda cramps Boyfriend’s style. I’m, as A called me, her “best friend soulmate.” I Was Here First. I never fucking made her cry. But I can’t kiss her or fuck her, so I automatically take a backseat to the one who can. I don’t need to be her Number One, but I don’t appreciate being pushed aside at Boyfriend’s every whim.

A, I’m sure, doesn’t realize how it looks from my angle. I know she cares about me and doesn’t want me to feel devalued. She’s just an oblivious alloro. I’m not even sure Boyfriend’s intentionally hogging her. (To be clear, I don’t think he’s a bad person; I’ve only met him a handful of times but I reliably clock my friends’ truly shitty partners on less. I haven’t heard about any crises in the past year or so, so I guess he’s finally managing his baggage well enough that A’s life can go smoothly and not suck.) I’m not unsympathetic to anxiety either; I’m chronically mentally ill and I’ve had my share. And I get we’re little more than strangers at this point. But I hate that he can just singlehandedly veto me and A rooming together ever. It’s much more of a blow to my likely quality of life than he or A---or tbh even I did, before this point---realize.

I hate feeling like I’m being jealous and needy. Maybe A just genuinely likes him better and it’s not only an amatonormative thing. I know I’m not entitled to live with her; it’s not like we promised or anything. But the option getting shut down really made me realize how much I resent not having it, and how much I kind of resent Boyfriend in general.

Which brings me to the asking-for-advice part, to the maybe two people who’ve read this far. Aspecs on here have talked about how amatonormativity fucks over single people and especially aros in terms of housing and life in general. Has anyone dealt with a situation like mine? How do you manage the amatonormative behavior of people in your life snatching your prospects out from under you, or feeling like it has? Is my reaction even reasonable? If so, how should I bring it up to A? This would be the closest thing we’ve ever had to a conflict, and also I’m...not great at being vulnerable. I can’t even vagueblog about these topics because my social media presence is limited to Tumblr and hers to Facebook. Hell, maybe I should just forget it for now, since I’m not changing housing anytime soon anyway, and cross that bridge when I get to it. I wouldn’t ask her to leave him, since their relationship seems to be going a lot smoother than it had been. But goddamn, am I filled with aroace salt about this.

#aromantic #amatonormativity #arophobia #asexual #aroace #might delete this later #sorry about the rant #why this is hell nor am I out of it

15 notes · View notes

fencesandfrogs · 3 years

Text

some thoughts on dovewing and hollyleaf

so i was like 1k words into my au for dovewing where she’s cloudtail and brightheart’s daughter and it was really good and then i lost it because tumblr doesn’t understand the concept of “are you sure you want to navigate away from this page?” and i can’t tell you how sad that makes me but i’m not going to despair, because i think the world needs this.

[1.5k words. 5 minute read. wall of text.]

right. so. basically. dovewing is going to be born to cloudtail and brightheart. i have Thoguhts on what other things could be changed in po3 but this isn’t about that.

also ivykit is red now sorry i don’t make the rules. (brightheart OR dovewing are now tortie to compensate for the change in genetics, not that warriors cars about that, but i do. cloudtail inherits brown from his mother and ??? from his father because i haven’t traced all of their litters, but i don’t see why dovekit couldn’t be grey.)

so cinderheart gets dovepaw because dovepaw is anxiety child. lionblaze gets ivypaw because that’s going to be a drama engine when he’s obsessed with her sister(’s mentor, but ivypaw doesn’t know that, also later it is dovepaw bc propehcy)

cloudtail and brightheart and cinderheart work out some Sensory Blocking skills. beavers happens. dovepaw, who spent most of her time as dovekit hiding in big fluffy father’s fur because Sensory, takes one look at big and fluffy and kind tigerheart and says: yes, he is safe. i will be his friend.

(i’m a fan of tigerheart and dovewing don’t @ me, they are the cutest, and after everything bramble and squirrel put me through, i deserve some pure kind love.)

anyway lionblaze figures out dove is 3rd cat, jayfeather is like “oh sick my sister’s back” dovepaw is anxiety child, everything is fine.

nothing happens in omen of the stars i stg

tigerheart and dovepaw continue to meet up. ivypaw goes from “sister worshipped i am unloved” to “sister fragile. must protect. (also i am unloved)” bc skirmish on border patrol and dovepaw just...can’t.

everyone is kind of wondering if dovepaw should maybe be med cat? i mean she has a good ear for prey, but she can’t really catch it, and, like, she’s weird.

she’ll mention snippets of information she shouldn’t know. she knows what you were coming to talk to her about before you get there. she’s never surprised, by, like, anything far away, but she barely notices if you sneak up on her.

something is not right about her.

but dove doesn’t really want that (reminder: tigerheart and her are still flirting-friends. he’s aware that she’s got some kind of, well, problem seems cruel, but what else should he call it?, and wants to help her, but has no idea what to do), and so cinderheart is like “well. we can do this. we can.”

idk filler stuff. ivypaw finds out about dovepaw and tigerheart. like, she knew something was up, but she gets explicit confirmation. ivy gets very protective of dovepaw, dovepaw is like ‘ur not my mentor’ ivypaw sees tigerheart in the dark forest, and she goes all

bluefur being like “snowfur ur bf has rabies” in bluestar’s prophecy

and it goes about as well now as it did then (altho tbf dovepaw is more close to being in the right than snowfur was.)

ivypaw and dovepaw now aren’t speaking. cinderheart is trying to get some space from lionblaze because dovepaw is anxiety child, training with ivypaw isn’t helping, and lionblaze needs to focus on ivy dammit.

anyway yeah in this ivypaw, after dovepaw’s initial success hunting, quickly surpasses her sister, and continues training in the dark forest because must protecc also need affection

(ivypaw is very pro dovepaw be a medicine cat. the fact that it keeps her away from tigerheart is a major bonus.)

cinderheart doesn’t know what to do. finally someone is like “hey what if we go to the tribe.” because the tribe deserves to fix clan problems for once.

the tribe is like “yeah the world sure is a big place with a lot to look at. that’s why only half of us look.” (i know that’s not exactly how cave guard’s work but close enough.)

cinderheart is like “hm. what if, dovepaw, just a thought, what if you just, you know, avoid battles? i know it’s part of clan life but judging by the two souls crammed into my body, i’d say there’s been very few major conflicts over this and, reasonably, you should be able to avoid being chosen for battle control.”

dovepaw says, “but cinderheart, i’m a main character! unless i’m being punished or taught a lesson about duty, i’ll be automatically registered for every battle patrol until i die!”

cindheart says, “you’re right, i’m so sorry. hey ivypaw, [whoops yeah ivy and lion are here too sorry i forgot to mention that] what if you two learn to work as a team.”

dovepaw says, “i don’t want to work with her.”

ivypaw says, “that’s a great idea.”

because dovepaw talks very quietly (she forgets not everyone can hear as well as her), ivypaw wins.

they work out their issues, return to the clans after quite some time.

(this also gives dovepaw a good memory for a long time in the future when shadowkit is born. i don’t actually know when that happens because i just finished tigerheart’s shadow and it’s not there, but i’ll find it eventually)

anyway dovepaw and ivypaw haven’t settled their differences, but they have a peace treaty. no one is sure how to integrate the team style in most effectively, but with her senses dampened from the tribe, dovepaw gets a bit better at hunting.

she’s also now 200% anxiety, meaning she’s basically vibrating all the time, but at least she’s learning. and she’s got the technical skills, too, she just couldn’t focus on applying them.

so dovepaw gets to really earn her success.

alright they become warriors, the battle is approaching.

this is like at least 3 books worth of content when you consider that jayfeather and hollyleaf are alive and hollyleaf is kind of, either dead or alive, tunnels or not, on top of shit in this universe. she knows shit gon go down. she’s going to be ready.

anyway right so dovewing and ivypool. that’s pretty much it except dovewing is more useful during the final battle. i’m not sure how i just know she is.

alright now i’m very tired and wanted to be done half an hour ago but here’s most of an au for you.

i came back like ten minutes later to add: the later three books would focus more on ivypool, hollyleaf, and jayfeather. dovewing is off in the background flirting with tigerheart. she and lionblaze have like one and a half brain cells between them. ivy holly and jay are the brains of the operation, and everyone knows it.

so they’re making plans and preparing and dealing with trust issues and lionblaze is like “what if? cinderheart. who is the best cat. what if she and i. had children. would they be. the best cat. squared?”

and dovewing, thinking of tigerheart, is like “no you idiot bestness is additive. that’s why my kits with tigerheart would be at least two times better than any other kits.”

*to be clear, kits are here the figurative marker of a relationship since warrior cats don’t have marriage. dovewing is basically like the fifteen year old doodling her name with tigerheart. she’s not serious about having children with him (yet), but it makes a tangible concept to picture their relationship in.

and meanwhile ivy is like “so if xyz is a taitor, that means i have to win over birchfall to make sure our numbers are evenly matched,”

(dovewing. i lovewing the dovewing, but she’s, well, not that smart.)

so yeah i think book protags would go:

dovepaw (i’d like to save her for later but unfortunately i think we need her deep characterization to provide context for her and tigerheart and sensory overload), ivypaw secondary

lionblaze, hollyleaf secondary (this is kind of a filler book while hollyleaf is set up as not a permanent resident of background character hell so lionblaze is just interpersonal drama moving the plot forward and filling in propechy info)

cinderheart, lionblaze secondary (i want them to be sorted faster, and dovewing’s second book needs to be later for tigerheart drama)

hollyleaf, jayfeather secondary (transitional book in focus, sharp narration turn because i have this working as 2 3 book arcs with a weaker overall arc, and since this is about dovewing i focused mostly on the first)

jayfeather, cinderheart secondary (dove+ivy need to close the arc together, also, cinderheart is like a central character to everyone else here, so she can sustain a whole lot of b plots)

ivypool, dovewing secondary (sisters, also, in this ivypool is far more important in the battle tha dovewing is. i mean sure dovewing is doing something, but the whole success of the battle hinges on ivypool, and everyone knows it.)

*in case I post more about it this au is tagged cloudtail's daughter. I already found calico dovewing that's gorgeous.

27 notes · View notes

orionsangel86 · 3 years

Note

How are y'all puzzled by the end and how TPTB, Dabb and Singer seemingly got the wrong message about fandom, when I've seen countless of Destiel shippers being "pro-ship". Advocating to treat incest, pedo*lia and best*ality the same as queer ships, and how it's totally ok. How often "meta crew" called me terf, fascist for saying it shouldn't be accepted into our queer spaces. It got Bobo to write a char for superwiki. They prob thought we're all just thirsty women who want to see two dudes b*ng

I have no idea what you are talking about.

I’m not puzzled. I know some fuckery went down. I’ve stated my opinions countless times now over the past few months over on Twitter and since coming back to Tumblr properly on my conspiracies post:

TPTB are all business, and they made a last minute business decision based on backing the Walker horse and not wanting Destiel to distract from Jared/Sam, whilst being fearful of the gAY scaring away the CisHet Male audience that they so desperately wanted to cling on to for Walker.

Singer has always been a bronly. Has always seen any queer subtext purely as homoeroticism and is definitely the kind of person who would queerbait fans to get views.

Dabb was weak. He backed down and let his script get butchered.

I don’t know what you mean by destiel shippers advocating those things? Unless you mean supporting AO3 not being censored and regulated of course? Because if you are one of these people that thinks that AO3 needs censoring then you are part of the problem. Believe me, no one in Destiel fandom that I know of is normalising incest, pedophilia or bestiality. No one thinks those things are part of queer spaces.

Some people multiship though. So long as they respect tagging systems and don’t force other people to have to see nasty stuff like what you’ve mentioned, then let people be into what they’re into. I might personally find it gross, and a bit strange, but people are always gonna wanna explore fucked up topics for all manner of reasons. We ain’t purity police here.

Also something I feel I need to be very clear on, which I haven’t mentioned before but um “meta crew”. Which meta crew would that be? There are many many meta writers in spn fandom. We are not a hive mind. Some are some of the nicest people I have ever met, some I don’t interact with much but write some really beautiful stuff and seem to be good people, but there are others who call themselves meta writers who are just bullies, who mock and harass anyone who disagrees with their opinion. Do NOT lump us all into the same boat.

Why any meta writers would call you a terf or a fascist without a good reason is beyond me. I don’t have context here do i? Could you look back over what you said and consider if it sounded terfy? Or fascist? I dunno man I don’t have a say in this, if people have called you out for something you’ve said, maybe look back over what you said and try to see it from their angle? Especially if it was transphobic.

A general rule of thumb for interacting with any fandom:

Ship and let Ship - in other words, don’t judge people on the pairings they like, even if they are problematic, so long as those pairings are well tagged and labelled so people can block as necessary.

Your kink is not my kink - Don’t kink shame people. If people wanna write really fucked up shit, that’s their right. Again, so long as it is all tagged and clearly labelled with content warnings, then there shouldn’t be a problem. It’s not on you to psychoanalyse people for their reasons for being into twisted things. Some people may genuinely be abuse survivors who are using it as a coping mechanism. You don’t know.

The Archive is a fandom holy place - it is protected. It is adored. Do not attack it or you will feel the wrath of 100 different fandoms coming at you. The archive is free from censorship, free from corporate manipulation, free from outside sources trying to mess with it. The archive belongs to US.

Just generally don’t be an asshole. Fandoms tend to attract people who are different from the general norms of society. We were the nerds and losers in school, the queer kids, the ones struggling with MHI. We all have a lot of shit and are all just trying to navigate our way through life via our passions. Don’t shit on peoples passions. You’ll come across a load of people who disagree with you, and occassionally you might be unfortunate enough to come across actual bullies. But most of the time, it won’t take much to rub someone the wrong way because everyone in these spaces tends to be at least kind of emotional, and attached to their passions. So you really do have to be polite. I can’t even tell you how many people in this fandom hate me - some to the point of obsession and slander. I’ve got a block list a mile long and continue to add people to it. There are posts out there with my name and screenshots from my SM spreading lies and hate about me, encouraging people to laugh at me and accusing me of doing things that I have never had the time or the energy to do. Shit happens. Don’t be those people, and you’re golden.

Superwiki is well known by SPN writers for being a bible of information for the show. The writers have previously confirmed that they refer to the SuperWiki when wanting quick research for their episodes. Yes, Bobo named a character after the person who runs the wiki, but I doubt Bobo is aware of how problematic that person is. The name was just in honour of someone who put a lot of work into building the wiki, hell, even I use the wiki! But I certainly don’t support any of Jules personal views. Don’t read into things like that. It never means what you think.

The thirsty women part I would have agreed with back 6 years ago. But they have adapted with us now. We are no longer Becky in season 4. We became Charlie remember? And after that we became intelligent teenagers wanted to tell an exciting story. If they thought destiel shippers were all about the hot guys banging, they certainly wouldn’t have made the love story canon, and they did that. Remember? Cas confessed his love for Dean, and it was the most beautiful, touching, heartfelt moment in the entire series. They did that. Not because they wanted us to objectify the actors, but because they knew how much that love story meant to us. Unfortunately, the network had other ideas for the actual finale. But that doesn’t take away the writers intentions up to that point. So please don’t erase what they worked for.

Ultimately I’m not sure what point you were trying to make with this ask, but this post is I suppose my very long way of saying you are wrong.

#spn conspiracy theories #anti spn finale #destiel #fandom wank #asks #anon #Anonymous

19 notes · View notes

wherevermyway · 3 years

Text

the FiVE:RACHA project (1/7) // black mirror AU // 18+

chapter one: freedom series navigation: [desktop] [mobile]

⚠ POTENTIAL TW: READ WITH CAUTION! ⚠ pairings: lee minho x kim seungmin | hwang hyunjin x lee felix x yang jeongin | bang chan x seo changbin x han jisung rating: explicit! 18+ warnings/tags: creator chose not to use archive warnings, descent into madness, horror, thriller, technological implants, blood and gore, alcohol abuse, some sexual content in later chapters but it’s not, like, smut. word count: 3,101 also on AO3

PS: i made a carrd for this. check it out if you’re interested!

originally posted: 26 december 2020

Several years ago, five men created a website for South Korea's international rap sensation, 3RACHA. The website, The FiVE:RACHA Project, was almost as popular as the group themselves. About two years after the website went live, FiVE:RACHA had the opportunity to meet 3RACHA.

Immediately after they meet, the members of FiVE:RACHA and 3RACHA go missing. The FiVE:RACHA Project website is down. Their Twitter account has been deactivated, and 3RACHA stops posting. A few months after their meetup, it was announced that 3RACHA had disbanded. Nobody knows what happened to either group.

Nobody knows, until now.

For some, modern day fame comes at a price that is too high to pay.

disclaimer: this is a work of fiction! any reference to persons in this work of fiction are purely coincidental. the characters referenced from Stray Kids are interpretations loosely based on their personalities in the group and do not represent the real people behind the personas. if this, or any of the content included in the warnings above make you uncomfortable, please stop reading now.

// note: with other darker stuff i post, i’m not totally sure i’ll post the entirety of this fic on tumblr. if not, i’ll do a little notice post for people interested to keep following it on AO3.

...Do you wish to proceed? To learn the truth of FiVE:RACHA and 3RACHA?

What is the true price of fame?

A Foreword:

Several years ago, there was a fan site, The FiVE:RACHA Project, dedicated to South Korea’s most famous rap group, 3RACHA. One day, it went down without notice. The site, as well as their Twitter account with over four million followers, was almost as well-known as the rap group itself.

3RACHA mysteriously disbanded several months after FiVE:RACHA went down. Nobody has seen or heard from the members of either group since the disbandment. There are several theories and myths surrounding the disappearances of both groups, but most of them are incorrect.

Be aware that, no, FiVE:RACHA did not go down because the site moderators were bored of 3RACHA. No, 3RACHA did not disband because Supreme Entertainment was about to collapse due to widespread fraud and their political scandals within the Korean government.

The stories of FiVE:RACHA and 3RACHA are very much deeply intertwined within each other, and the truth is uncomfortable to witness.

This novel’s authors, comprised of some of the most loyal fans of both groups, will remain anonymous and stay in hiding due to fear of being caught by the one responsible for the disappearances. An individual outside of our group found a Shinyu of someone involved in this, someone discarded in the Han River many years ago. How the implant survived with no living host for so long is beyond remarkable.

In case the Shinyu is defunct or replaced by the time you’re reading this, allow us to explain. The name comes from “close friend” in Japanese, likely as a play on words for how close the implant gets to its host, both physically and socially. The Shinyu was created in Tokyo in 2025; it is a small technological implant embedded under the skin of the right side of everyone’s temples.

Everyone has one placed at thirteen, and it encodes all of our visual, tactile, and auditory data, syncing it to our phones and uploading it to personal servers in the cloud. The data is encrypted, and requires access from both the Shinyu and the phone to decipher. It allows us to integrate technology into our daily lives, records our memories and important moments, but there is a price we all pay for this. Critics have been outspoken about this since its inception, but the governments never listened.

Alas, we digress. The Shinyu is vital to uncovering so much information that has been hidden and speculated on after all this time. Regardless of our personal opinions regarding the ethics of the device, we are grateful that we were able to obtain one of the implants. It has been vital to connect a lot of the missing pieces of the greater picture.

The authors have spent years decoding the information from this implant. Thanks to an anonymous source, we were able to obtain the personal computer of someone in FiVE:RACHA, personal cell phones of both groups, access to the database of Supreme Entertainment and its defunct myIdol data, some declassified legal information, and archives of both FiVE:RACHA and 3RACHA’s Twitter accounts.

Why have we chosen to extrapolate all of this data in the form of a novel? Perhaps we would like it to serve as a modern day parable for the plights of technology being so intricately interwoven between us all now. We, as humans, are now one with technology. Technology is literally embedded into us. It is astounding that technology allows us to interact so closely with famed idols now, beyond some barriers that critics have denounced for being inappropriate or unhealthy.

Some of us may pay the ultimate price for this.

Some of us, unfortunately, already have.

However interconnected we are with technology and how close we can get to those of which we idolize in society, though, humans will still crave entertainment. That is why this was written almost as a work of fiction. Those that pay attention to the story will be rewarded. Maybe not immediately, and maybe only after self-reflection, but readers will be rewarded. That much can be promised.

Above all else, we cannot stress enough that modern day fame and convenience comes at a price that is too high for some to pay. Stay safe, err on the side of caution. Disconnect from your Shinyu if you choose to proceed any further, because you never know who is watching.

— Curators of The FiVE:RACHA Project

One: Freedom

Nobody really knows who exactly manages FiVE:RACHA, just that it’s a group of five fans that run a fansite for the popular rap group 3RACHA. Their website is the most well-known and widely used out of the millions of fans that are out there. It always has live updates for the members: Bang Chan, Seo Changbin, and Han Jisung. There are daily paparazzi photos of at least one of them slapped up on the front page, embedded social media posts from each of the members updated as soon as they post, and hard-to-find facts about each of them.

Hell, one of the FiVE:RACHA members went through and coded up a section of the site dedicated to decoding natal charts for each of the members. Again, like most things about FiVE:RACHA, the source of this information was a mystery. Nobody’s sure exactly how they obtained 3RACHA’s birth times and locations. Some had speculated that it happened the same day the government had announced that there was a security breach of some of their databases, because the timing was oddly convenient.

To most casual fans, it sometimes felt really fucking weird to have so much information on idols readily available at their fingertips. However, to 3RACHA’s most dedicated, most obsessed fans, it was perfect. Exactly what they wanted. Their work seemed well-appreciated by the broader community, since the amount of Twitter followers FiVE:RACHA had was comparable to 3RACHA’s following, nearly half of their total count: 4,100,000 to 8,500,000.

There was nothing else that could compare to the controlled insanity that The FiVE:RACHA Project had to offer.

The FiVE:RACHA website was an international sensation, known to most 3RACHA fans, even those that opposed it. There was even a small, but growing, fanbase for the members of FiVE:RACHA, something that was slightly worrisome to them, but they had remained anonymous for so long, they weren’t really overtly concerned over it.

“This article is bullshit, man. ‘Controlled insanity’? None of this is controlled, it’s just insanity.”

Idle hums and trills of various electronics thrum in a dark room. Two young men stare at several computer monitors in a daze, lost in their own worlds as a ticker tape-like feed of coding and statistics flew past them on screen.“Let ‘em talk, dude,” the younger-looking man with blue hair scoots away from his computer and sighs. “Fuckin’ gossip rags. Anyway, I can’t stare at this CSS anymore. I can’t figure out why the embedded feeds are busted. Can you take over on this, Seung?”

The slightly older man with short, shaggy black hair rolls his neck, snapping some joints, not bothering to look away from his screens. “Yeah, yeah,” he stops poring over the article written about them on one screen, tabbing away to another. He cracks the knuckles in his fingers, and waves his hand in the air as he taps a couple of keys on his keyboard. “Go take a break, Jeongin. Hyunjin was looking for you, anyways. Probably got something good from a source of his, since he’s in one of his giddy moods.”

As Seungmin settles into his work, Jeongin chuckles as he stands up and stretches. He takes a couple steps over to the other computer desk and pats the older man on the back. “Thanks, dude,” he says with a smile and walks out of the server room, out into the hallway that leads into the open living room of their flat. The ambient humming of the room stops as he shuts the door, now replaced by the sound of his feet shuffling, the muffled noises echoing against the hardwood floor.

Five men all lived and worked in this large apartment together: Yang Jeongin, Kim Seungmin, Hwang Hyunjin, Lee Felix, and Lee Minho. Collectively, this was where they lived and breathed The FiVE:RACHA Project. Running the largest, most extensive fansite for South Korea’s most famous rap group, 3RACHA, was more than a full-time job. They all equally poured their hearts and souls into maintaining the website and their Twitter account. It proved to be almost too much for five people alone to handle as their shifts sometimes went from twelve hours and bled into sixteen, sometimes twenty-four hour shifts.

Minho, the leader, didn’t trust anyone but the original five to the project, however. Jeongin could hear the oldest man’s airy voice echo in his ears: “I trusted the four of you with this. Now, it’s devolved into something I don’t even recognize. There’s no way anyone deserves to see what we’ve done. Imagine if it got out that we were the ones in charge of this monstrosity?”

Jeongin glided into the kitchen, and pulled his phone out of his back pocket, eyeing the time. 13:36. He had another hour left of his shift, and he was exhausted after yesterday’s all-nighter. 33 hours of work, with only a small nap in between was rough on anyone, and he was starting to feel it, physically. His Shinyu Implant would ping him once every hour that he was very low on sleep, reminding him that it was unhealthy to go without sleep for so long and that he would not be able to drive. As he slinked his way to the fridge, he shoved his phone back into his pocket and yawned. He opened the fridge, the contents in the shelves of the door clattering as they abruptly shifted around.

The first thing he saw was a bottle of unsweetened coffee and, while he knew he shouldn’t drink caffeine within a few hours of hopeful sleep, Jeongin went against his instincts and reached for the bottle anyways. As he opened it, the cracking of the seal reverberated against all of the hard surfaces and sounded much louder than it should have, startling the man awake a bit.

He hated unsweetened coffee, but there was no way he would make it through another hour or so of coding maintenance without it. Jeongin polished off the entire bottle within seconds, grimacing in disgust the entire time. He tapped his right temple twice, and grumbled. “Set reminder, after work: grocery shopping. Have Hyunjin drive. Add to list: energy drinks. The good kind, none of that berry-flavoured shit.” A very faint, nearly inaudible ding responds after he’s done speaking, and Jeongin moves to discard the bottle into the recycling bin.

“Innie?” Almost as if the devil himself heard Jeongin’s request, a familiar voice rounded the corner of the kitchen. “Oh, good, I thought that was you. Anyway, you won’t believe the content I got from Yeji at Seoul Scoop, dude,” the lanky, beacon-like blond grins wildly at Jeongin, walking into the kitchen. “I actually got a photo of Chan and Changbin looking awfully close at KNECT’s backstage event a couple days ago. Think they were celebrating their recent win a little too hard.”

Hyunjin proudly slaps a grainy photo down on the countertop, where Changbin is sitting in Chan’s lap, arms wrapped around the older man’s neck. Sure, it could easily be explained away as friendly closeness, since everyone knew that all of the guys were very close friends, and the area was cramped. The photo, however, would cause a lot of panic within the community.

Jeongin smirked as he eyed the photo, taking it into his fingers and bringing it up close to his face. “The shippers are going to have a field day over this, you know.”

“I know,” Hyunjin shakes some of his hair out of his face as he arrogantly places a hand on his hip, shifting his weight to one side. “It’ll be great traffic for the site. I’ll have Seungmin put it on the front page later.” He takes a couple of steps closer to Jeongin and pulls the younger man to his chest, stroking his hair down. “I love you, but you look like shit. Why not call it a little early today?”

Jeongin shook his head, burying his nose into the older man’s shoulder, letting his eyes flutter shut with a sigh. “Seungmin and I are trying to fix a string of broken code that’s causing the social media feed to bug out a little bit. Definitely wanna have that fixed before we upload this.”

A clattering of keys startles both of the younger men, causing them to look behind Hyunjin. “Don’t worry about it, Jeongin,” a third voice speaks from the entrance of the kitchen. “Seriously, you worked really hard yesterday, and I’m sure we’ll manage. I’ll be sure to wake up Felix a little earlier and we’ll fix the coding.”

“You’re home early, Minho,” Jeongin chuckles once as he nods. “Figured you’d be stuck in the office for a few more hours.”

“Nah,” Minho dismissively waves his hand in the air as he walks over to the sink, rinsing his hands. “Seungmin called me earlier and said you were nodding off at your desk, asked me to come home early.”

A look of guilt washed over Jeongin’s face. “Shit, my bad.”

“Don’t apologize,” Minho smiles as he towels off his hands. “I appreciate all of the work you did yesterday; completely revamping the social media section was hard. But I can’t have you possibly miscode something and have it break the site because you’re running low on sleep. You’ve started getting pings, haven’t you?”

Jeongin sheepishly nods his head and mumbles an affirmation.

Hyunjin rolls his eyes and elbows the young man in the side. “I thought I told you to take a nap, dude?”

“I did!” Jeongin whines. “It was, like, a half-hour, though.”

Both Hyunjin and Minho roll their eyes at Jeongin. “Get out of here,” Minho scoffs, walking towards the server room. “Go to bed. I don’t wanna see you back in the server room until tomorrow morning.”

Jeongin opens his mouth to protest, but Hyunjin drags him away, up the stairs towards their bedroom. A ping comes from his implant, a transparent box popping up in the lower right-hand corner of his vision. The soft voice of the AI reverberates against his skull, allowing him to hear it as if it were a real voice whispering into his ear. It reads off the notification from his display.

“Movement away from workplace detected. Reminder: grocery shopping later, have Hyunjin drive. Would you like me to pull up your list?”

“No.” A low grumble comes up from Jeongin’s throat as he taps his temple twice to dismiss the notification. “Hyunjin,” he sighs, “we’ve gotta go grocery shopping.”

“You’re too tired,” Hyunjin shakes his finger without turning to look at Jeongin. “The grocery store will still be there tomorrow.”

“I’m out of my energy drinks, though,” the younger man protests.

Hyunjin smiles, opening the door to their bedroom and whispers. “I’ll be sure to get some for you. Go cuddle up with Felix and get some sleep.”

“Hyunjin, I—” Jeongin is cut off as the older man grabs his wrist, pulling him into his chest. They share a brief kiss before Hyunjin guides him into the bedroom.

“Shh, Lixie is sleeping.”

There’s a shuffling that comes from the bedsheets, and a sleepy voice grumbles. “Not anymore.”

“Aw, mornin’, babe,” Hyunjin says with a smile. “Sorry to wake you. Minho’s probably gonna come ask for you in a bit, anyways, though.”

Felix rolls over, sitting upright as he runs his hands through his brassy blond hair. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” Jeongin sighs as he makes his way over to the bed, bringing an arm up to the blond and wrapping him in a lazy hug as he pulls them down to the bed.

The blond lets out a soft laugh. “Don’t worry about it, man,” he turns his head to face the bluenette and offers him a quick peck on the lips. “I couldn’t sleep much, anyways. Finding out about that myIdol rumour yesterday had my brain going kind of wild.”

“You heard about it too, huh?” Hyunjin says, colliding down onto the bed opposite of Felix. “Someone at Seoul Scoop told me about it this morning. It lets fans connect with their idols, like they’re actually directly messaging them.”

“That’s weird,” the bluenette sleepily grumbles into Felix’s shoulder.

“I think so, too.” Felix says with a frown as he nuzzles his head against Jeongin’s forehead, staring up into the ceiling.

Hyunjin shrugs with indifference. “I dunno, I think it’s pretty interesting.”

Jeongin lifts his head and stares down Hyunjin with a smirk. “You just want to pretend like Changbin cares about you.”

The older blond frowns as he flips off Jeongin. “Like you wouldn’t want Jisung to send you a ‘Have a wonderful day, bestie!’ message?”

The youngest member flops back down onto the bed. “Okay, that’s fair. It’s still weird, though. Seems so artificial and fake, I guess.”

“Well,” Hyunjin sits up, offering a hand out to Felix, “I’ll have more information on it tomorrow, probably. Why don’t you let yourself sleep for a while?” Felix takes the hand offered to him, and both men stand up. “Lixie and I will go out and get some groceries and get you those nasty energy drinks you like so much.”

Jeongin grumbles as he wiggles his way up to the pillows, half-asleep and irritated from the loss of warmth from Felix. “Just not the berry ones, okay?”

“I’ll see what we can do,” Hyunjin says with a smirk before he spins on his heel and walks out of the room. “Love you, Innie!”

“Don’t worry,” Felix leans down to kiss Jeongin’s forehead, “I’ll make sure he doesn’t get the kinds you hate. Let yourself actually sleep, too. We’ll make it all work out, okay?”

Jeongin mutters some sort of incoherent affirmation as he lets his heavy eyelids flutter shut. Seungmin would be able to fix the CSS by himself, he figured, trying not to worry too much about how broken small parts of the site were. He heard Felix say something else as he quickly faded off into sleep, but it didn’t register fully as he sank into the abyss.

There were a lot of sleepless nights ahead of them, whether FiVE:RACHA felt it coming or not.

#the fiveracha project #the five:racha project #skz fics #black mirror au #horror #technological horror #i'm not tagging the ships because they're not really important #wherevermyway

14 notes · View notes