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bakatenshii · 3 years

Text

Grapefruit

Oikawa Tooru x reader (haikyuu!!)

word count: 2.3k

TW: 18+, lemon, wattpad, crack

A/N: I’m so sorry. This is actually a joke, a parody, I promise, it’s written like this on purpose for the collab. Terrible (or lack entirely of) grammar, dialogue so cheesy I threw up multiple times in my mouth, too many specifications of shades of the colour pink. For @undermattsun’s whorehouse wattpad garbage fire collab. I’m so sorry.

grape·fruit

/ˈɡrāpˌfro͞ot/

In the world of fandom (check out fan fiction, fanfics, or fics), a grapefruit is a story which consists of sexual explicit themes in bizarre situations.

An orange-twinged pink, almost coral.

haikyuu series!! :3

disclaimer: haikyuu does NOT belong 2 me. Or else I would make XXXX go w/ XXXX ;)

༻✧༺

𝑝𝑎𝑝𝑒𝑟 𝑏𝑎𝑔𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑐 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑠

𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑏𝑒𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 𝑖𝑛 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑝𝑝𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑠

༻✧༺

“hurry up y/n!!!” - i remove my skullcandies out my ears, hearing my best friend sunnie(with an ie! not y!) shout to me from down the hall.

flipping my baby pink (NOT cotton candy pink! god there’s a difference, get it right. last week ash-lee with her stupid bleach blonde hair called it cotton candy pink and I wanted to kill her) hair behind my shoulder, i skipped down the lockers.

i was in my best outfit, checkered pink and white (bubblegum pink, this time) leg warmers with my matching pink + white skirt and white denim jacket with a pink butterfly bedazzled on the back. i saw paris hilton in it on her myspace too, so you could say im pretty trendy.

not like the other girls, like brittney (with her dark hair with a blue streak with a puppy shaped purse she swears is designer.) or ash-lee with her stupid ugly blonde hair that’s deffo fake. oh i already said that

anyways

it’s just an average tuesday morning, and i’m just your not-so-average girl. my name’s (y/n) (l/n) and im (age) years old. my best friends are sunnie, rachelle, and meeky. oh, and lindt, sometimes, when she’s not too busy with trying to save the world from global warming.

i’m on my way to p.e. which UGH is my least fav class, who even came up with it? but at least there’s the hottie oikawa tooru-sama in my class (ha! eat that ash-lee + brittney) and all the girls luuuuurv him. he’s soooo hot i bet he has abs

(brianna with the ugly hair who wears green shoes with red socks said she saw him change once and she totally saw his 8pack but she’s a liar so i dont believe her)

(even tho he tooootally has one)

i was on way just skipping down the hall to go to p.e. when someone crashes into me from behind.

‘-u-GH!’ i fall.

‘hey!!!!’ i turned around to yell at who’s bumping into me-

it was oikawa tooru-sama!! the most popular boy in school!!! i felt like i was in a dream i pinched my hand but... it hurts!!! this isn’t a dream!!! the oikawa tooru-sama just crashed into me!!! with his body!!! his shoulder touched me!!!!!

he turn and looks at me and... my heart stops. i think im dying omgomgomg

‘a-are you okay (y/n)-chan?’ he asks me and holds his hand out.

i cant believe it. the oikawa tooru-sama is giving me his hand to hold?!?! is this heaven???

‘i-i-‘ i stammer. i’m so shocked i swear my face is beat red. ‘i-i’m ok.’

i was too scared to hold his hands because mine were so sweaty from seeing him this upclose. i stand up and dust my knees because i want him to think i’m tough. that’s right. oikawa tooru-sama is a professional vball player! (v for volley-ball) he’s not going to like some dumb average weak normal crybaby girl.

‘ok. see ya in class!’ he smiles and waves at me before walking down the hall, shooting me his signature smile. the one that makes flowers bloom around him and glitters around his whole body.

h-how did he know? did he just say in class??? the oikawa tooru-sama knows who i am???

i take out my phone to frantically text my bffs (sunnie, rachelle, meeky and lindt) and see the group chat had some unread new messages. i click open it.

(beep)

𝚋𝚕@𝚑𝚔𝚞𝚐𝟶𝟶: omgzzzz i juss saw tsukki-sama xDDD

𝕣𝕒𝕖𝕖𝕖𝕖𝕩𝕠𝕩𝕠: STDU XDD wut wuzz he wearin?!? hes sooooo hawt oh em geez

tsukki-sama, aka tsukishima kei-sama, is the hot blondie in the other class’s vball team. rachelle and sunnie are sooo in love with him, but i don’t blame them. he’s soooo tall, taller than oikawa tooru-sama even. (but that doesn’t matter because oikawa tooru-sama has the prettiest smile in the world and no one’s seen tsukki-sama smile like... since he came outta the womb)

i quickly type out my txt because this is more important than what the blonde vball star is wearing.

(beep)

𝖗𝖆𝖜𝖗𝖇4𝖐4: guizzzzz guizzzz GUIZE!!!! GUEZZ WUT JUSS HAPPND!!

𝖗𝖆𝖜𝖗𝖇4𝖐4: u’ll nv beliv it!!!!! omGZZZZZ IM LAIK DYINN XDDDDDDD TT_TT

ｓｋ８ｅｒｇ１ｒｌ: omgawd wuuuut

ｓｋ８ｅｒｇ１ｒｌ: w8 kita-sama jus sk8dd by me i fink he haz a new b04rd!!!!! be are be

𝖗𝖆𝖜𝖗𝖇4𝖐4: uGGGHRRR MEEKY DIS IZ MOAR IMPOARTAN!!!!!!

before i have the chance to tell them about my fateful encounter with the oikawa tooru-sama someone snatches my phone away. i turn around, maybe it’s oikawa tooru-sama again?

UGH NO IT’S OUR STUPID BALD PRINCIPAL. now i’m in trouble.

‘no phones in the hall (y/n) (l/n)-san!’ he yells at me. his breath stinks, yuck.

he takes my phone and puts it in his pocket and i realize that he’s putting it in his pocket and taking it away.

‘b-but-‘ jimmy i protest. not my flip phone with my pink bedazzled hello kitty charm on the end!

‘no buts!!!! see you after lecture missy!!’

god, this is just like, the worst day ever.

༻✧༺

𝑖𝑡’𝑠 𝑔𝑜𝑜𝑑𝑏𝑦𝑒, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑤𝑒 𝑔𝑜𝑡 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑛𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡

𝑙𝑒𝑡’𝑠 𝑔𝑒𝑡 𝑑𝑟𝑢𝑛𝑘 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑟𝑖𝑑𝑒 𝑎𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑

𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑝𝑒𝑎𝑐𝑒 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑎𝑛 𝑒𝑚𝑝𝑡𝑦 𝑡𝑜𝑤𝑛

𝑤𝑒 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑖𝑡 𝑟𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡

༻✧༺

p.e. is the same as always: im sitting on the side, not doing sports because girls like me can’t risk breaking my perfectly painted pink (hot pink, not baby pink) nail with diamonds on it. i tell my bffs about the encounter and they all agree that it’s deffo fate.

‘i know right??’ i giggle staring down at the man of my dreams, at his chocolate brown locks, thinking back at his dreamy brown orbs staring into my dark black ones offering me his hand.

‘you should totes ask him out!’ giggles sunnie.

‘oh em gee, never!!! that’s sooo embarrassing, he’s totally gonna say no!’ i said.

‘seriously, (y/n)-chan, what do you have to lose?’ rachelle said.

‘just like, my dignity and self respect.’ i reply sassily.

at that we three burst into laughter, and the fat p.e. prof turns and tells us shhhhhhh.

i love my friends.

i tell them about our bald principal taking my pink flip phone with the hello kitty charm on it away.

‘oh no!’ rachelle exclaimed.

‘what are you going to do?’ sunnie asked.

i shrug, feeling at a loss without it.

‘it’s like, seriously dangerous without a phone.’ the blonde said.

‘what if you get like, kidnapped or something?!’ the purplenette said, clasping her hand over her mouth in a show of shock. (ps. bluette vs. blunette?)

‘kidnapped?!?’ i laugh. ‘who’s gonna kidnap me?!!’ we all burst into laughter again, causing our p.e. prof (still fat and annoying) to shhh us again.

little did i know that the brunette vball star was staring up at me, plotting.

i had no idea what was about to come.

༻✧༺

𝑡ℎ𝑟𝑜𝑤 𝑖𝑡 𝑎𝑤𝑎𝑦, 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑔𝑒𝑡 𝑦𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑑𝑎𝑦

𝑤𝑒’𝑙𝑙 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑔𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑡 𝑒𝑠𝑐𝑎𝑝𝑒

𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑤𝑒 𝑤𝑜𝑛’𝑡 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑟 𝑎 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑠𝑎𝑦

𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑑𝑜𝑛’𝑡 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝑢𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑦𝑤𝑎𝑦

𝑤𝑎𝑡𝑐ℎ 𝑖𝑡 𝑏𝑢𝑟𝑛, 𝑙𝑒𝑡 𝑖𝑡 𝑑𝑖𝑒

𝑐𝑎𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝑤𝑒 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝑒, 𝑡𝑜𝑛𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡

༻✧༺

when i open my eyes, my eyes are heavy, staring up at a bright light above my head. i squint my eyes because the light hurts my eyes.

‘well, well, well’ i hear a voice behind me. ‘(y/n)-himesama’s awake, i see.’

wait-

i know that voice-

that’s-

that’s the oikawa tooru-sama’s voice!

‘w-what?’ i stuttered, surprised but feeling a warm rush going down my body at the sound of his voice. ‘what’s going on?’

he chuckles. ‘can’t you tell?’

i look around and see my arms taped up behind me on a chair and my legs tied together by... something. rope maybe?

‘where am i?’ i ask, even more bewildered.

‘tsk tsk tsk, silly (y/n)-himesama. i’ve kidnapped you, my dear.’ he said. ‘we’re in my mansion right now’

my eyes pop out of their sockets. am i hearing him right?

‘no,’ he corrects himself. ‘we’re in our mansion.’

i can’t help but blush at that suggestion. our mansion?

that’s right, i must be crazy, i think to myself. this is all just a dream, i’m still in school, on the bleachers with my bffs and i fell asleep in our class.

‘this isn’t a dream, darling’ he singsongs, and i feel more warmth flood downwards. god what is wrong with me? turned on in this situation? but can you blame me? who wouldn’t get turned on when the oikawa tooru-sama is standing in front (or behind) them and calling them ‘darling’?

‘w-what- h-h-how?’ i ask him. ‘i was just at school, staring at you play vball in the gym- i mean n-not staring at you- and-‘

he chuckles darkly.

‘i know you were, (y/n)-himesama. that’s why i kidnapped you, because you’re so cute.’

i blush at his words. m-me? cute??? did the oikawa tooru just call me cute?

i suddenly remember what rachelle and sunnie said in p.e. today about being kidnapped, and shudder. god, h-her mind! they’re totally gonna tell me i told you so! when i tell them.

‘b-but, h-how?’ i bit my lip looking at him beneath my lashes, or however anastasia steele did it in too many shades of grey. (it wasn’t actually that bad, but ill never admit it. it’s sorta kinda hot. also pantone says theres only like 37 diff shades so.)

‘i saw you with your friends, and i served a ball at your head knocking you out.’ he explained. suddenly i feel a pang on my head reinforcing what he’s saying.

‘ow...’ i say quietly.

the brunette man built like a god walks into my frame of vision for the first time after waking up and i notice he’s shirtless, all 8pack exposed for me to look at.

(i guess brianna was right, but she’s still a liar that wears green shoes with red socks.)

he comes up to me and kneels in front of me until he’s kneeling in front of me. he carresses my cheek with his hand (the same one he reached out to me earlier that day, pre-kidnapping) and i sigh.

if this is a dream never wake me up. i think to myself.

‘wh-‘ before i can get the words out asking him why me?, he presses a finger to my lips, shushing me.

he looks at me with his brown chocolate orbs, and i get lost in them, counting the stars and constellations in those glowing beautiful orbs that i never thought i could look at so up close. (except in photos i secretly took)

‘i love you, (y/n) (l/n)’ he says.

i fainted.

༻✧༺

𝑡𝑜𝑛𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑒 𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑙𝑖𝑣𝑒𝑠

𝑖𝑡’𝑠 𝑠𝑜 𝑔𝑜𝑜𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑒 𝑏𝑦 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑠𝑖𝑑𝑒

𝑤𝑒’𝑙𝑙 𝑐𝑟𝑦, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑤𝑒 𝑤𝑜𝑛’𝑡 𝑔𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑢𝑝 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑓𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡

༻✧༺

i wake up (for the second time that day, god what is up with today?), my eyes still heavy.

‘good morning, darling,’ i hear a voice say, and suddenly i remember everything that’s transpired so far.

(for reference: i crashed into the oikawa tooru-sama this morning, had my phone taken away, and now kidnapped by none other than the oikawa tooru-sama, now in his- no, our mansion.)

‘o-oikawa tooru-sama?’ i stutter out weakly, still groggy.

‘just tooru, my hime-sama.’ he says and i feel my body heating up again.

suddenly, i’m filled with an overwhelming emotion, and the worlds spill out before i can stop them.

‘i love you, t-tooru.’ i stutter on the foreign name, biting my lips (for good measure).

he looks at me, chocolate orbs piercing right into my super dark black pupils, and he starts to cry. i cry too, because he just looks so beautiful, even when he’s crying.

he holds me in his arm and i nuzzle my nose into his neck, smelling his deep chocolatey velvety sweet minty musky scent. he smells so good i could just stay here forever, bathing in the chocolatey velvety sweet minty musk.

‘u-um...’ i start, and he nuzzles his face into my neck some more. i can feel his wet tears on my shoulder... is he still crying??

i try again. ‘u-ummmm...’

he finally looks up at me and i peer into his deep chocolate orbs, feeling him stare intently into my dark block orbs. i wiggle my arms to show him i want him to release them, because if you remember they’re still taped up by like, tape or rope or whatever.

‘o-oh!’ he exclaims and unties them.

i don’t know what came over me but suddenly we’re kissing, our tongues are battling for dominance within our hot wet cavernous mouths, and it’s soooo hot.

he grips my legs and spreads them apart, tongues still fighting a mighty battle, and i see him take out his big massive rock hard member in his hands.

i wrap my legs around him, thankful for the pink (bubblegum pink) and white checkered skirt im wearing today for easy access, and he pushes his hot shaft into my core. i can feel his member in my wet gushy wushy pussy and it feels so good i came.

he cums too.

‘w-will you marry me?’ he looks up at me, his member still inside. i feel tears brimming in my eyes again as I nod.

‘i do.’

༻✧༺

𝑤𝑒’𝑙𝑙 𝑠𝑐𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑚 𝑙𝑜𝑢𝑑 𝑎𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑡𝑜𝑝 𝑜𝑓 𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑙𝑢𝑛𝑔𝑠

𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦’𝑙𝑙 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑘 𝑖𝑡’𝑠 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑐𝑎𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝑤𝑒’𝑟𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑔

𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑤𝑒’𝑙𝑙 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙 𝑠𝑜 𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑣𝑒

a/n: ta-dah!! the end!!! tankzz 4 readin guyzzzz lawl im thinking of making dis a series so... ;))) tell me who u wana be kidnapped by next! xD

a/n #2: speshull tankz 2 uwucatgirlprincess99 4 da line (u kno da one ;))) + sk8erg0rl666 4 havin me in da collab! + also cummin up wiv da title!! lawlzz rawr x)))

a/n #3: OH WOW . erhm. Longest chappy thing ive written. Hope you liked it. so uhm. ENJOY ! [btw, I'm considering doing the NEXT CHAP; sneak peek thing. Should I? :3 Comment?] plz R&R!! :]]] kudoz 4 u <333

p.s. da colour i used 4 da lyriczzz is fuschia pink! :3

p.p.s. comment below if u reconize dee song!! ur a kool kat if u do ;))

#oikawa #im so sorry im so so so so sorry #please dont read this #please dont perceive this #i have nothing to say only apologies #altho im vvvv proud of how on brand my titlw us #and i um..... if ur readinv this heres where i admit #that the disclaimer on top and a/n at the bottom may or may have been taken from my.... ff.net #from when i was 9.........#just for a diff fandom (with slight tweaking)#im just sorry #im really really sorry

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readerinsertfanfiction · 3 years

Note

Neeeemo dear! Im back again!🌻😳🥺 //dances in❤❤🌻😳🥺 rip your poor lil askbox hehehehe! //is still trying to figure out asks for other fandoms butttttt! Ill try my best hehee😳❤

❤🍁 after all zeta has husbands across the board 😳🥺☺ hehehe so here is another for death note! Hehehe i honestly love the anime so much (i think i must have watched it more than 4 times already) 🥺🥺❤🌈😳 naturally L is bae

😏 hehehe so nemo darling could i pretty please with caramel ontop request a lil something with L hehe here is some cute prompts i found😳😳😳

"Can I sleep in here? I don't like the storm."

"Scared of a little thunder?"

☺🍁🍁Hehehe its been raining so much here lately 😳🥺 and while i love the thunder and lighting it does get a lil scary when it hits a tree in your yard and fries all the electronics 😂😂😂😂😂😂 pfffft anyways im rambling aren't i? Night nemo darling! Sweet dreams and lets face this Monday together/ /sweats🥺🥺 good luck with your meeting with your supervisor! U can do this ❤❤❤❤❤😳☺

♪┌|∵|┘♪ └|∵|┐♪♪┌|∵|┘♪ └|∵|┐♪

Four times. Damn. I think I only watched DN twice or so, Zeta is so dedicated for her hububs ｡◕‿◕｡

Cover up in lots of blankets and and stay low to the ground!!! ᕙ (° ~ ° ~) I would offer help, but you probs would be targeted before I'm. (;;;・_・)

At least you bought a powerbank now.

Fandom: Death Note

Character: L Lawliet

Prompt: A: “Can I sleep in here? I don’t like the storm.” B: “Scared of a little thunder?”

The room flickered and darkened at an unsteady pace, followed shortly by the loud boom of what was the clap of the heavens. Sometimes the silhouette of the mountains surrounding you could be seen, other times it was only the lightning that remained long enough in the sky to be seen. A flash and then gone, followed by a bang in short, the seconds too fast, the next one too soon. The clouds had gathered and grown too heavy to pass the mountain tops.

"Can I sleep here?" you had asked the man, hands wringing and unwringing as you clutched your blanket over your head. The next came and the haunting presence of the detective stood for once straight, his dark eyes looking down at you with that familiar slouch. But even that sight was quickly taken from you as darkness prevailed again, only to be followed by another flash that made his white shirt seem even starker in the unlit room.

L had remained silent for a while, his feet scratching the back of his leg, the sound of nail scraping over jeans audible in the otherwise quiet room. You were under observation and distance was meant to be maintained. It would breach several policies to allow you to sleep in his room. Naturally, that would have been his answer, but the way you flinched each time the room lit up and the way your fingers moved, counting the time between light and sound, L knew better than to leave you alone now.

Besides, he was already 99.9% sure of his theory and correctness. There truly was no need to continue the observations for longer than they had.

"Scared of a little thunder?" the man spoke, his thought process now filed away and so was the decision-making. You could never tell how much went on in his mind in the time that had lapsed, but L was used to that. Few could. Fewer knew him by his true name, most just calling him by the identity he had adopted for the time, or the single letter by which he was known.

Another one flashed through the sky and here L's expression revealed itself to be blank, you weren't sure what was more haunting. The howling of the wind through the apartment high in the sky, or his never ending observing expression.

"I don't like the storm," you admitted sheepishly feeling rather silly now that you had pronounced it out loud. Storms were such silly things, like everything was to the brilliant man in front of you.

If L truly thought so was a little beyond you as the male made no indication to show or express such, instead shoving his hands in his pockets as he shrugged.

"Come in." And he stepped to the side, revealing his room to you which was sparsely decorated and dimly lit by a single laptop. For the rest the room lacked all the rest, not even a bed was present, or a chair as the man crouched down on the floor and continued his work in these deplorable conditions with a storm raging on.

"Don't you sleep?" you asked, reluctantly sitting next to him as the man pointed at the discarded blankets in the corner.

"I need little of it," he clarified, knowing that to you he crossed as strange, but strange was his trademark and strange was what marked his genius, he didn't need anything else.

The storm raged on and the thunder rolled and followed, but by now you had been too distracted by the strangeness of this man and his calm determination to continue his work.

"Can I sit next to you?" you asked, and L stopped typing for a second as he looked up at you, dark eyes apathetic towards what you had to say before something resembling sympathy showed through and he threw you a reassuring smile, the kind he always showed when you offered him a sweet.

"I wouldn't have let you in if I minded," he tells you and he is true in his words as he even allows you to lean against him, his body surprisingly sturdy as it was lean and his strange seating position even more steady than you had expected it to be.

"Feel free to fall asleep. I don't expect myself to get up for at least the next eight hours," the man informed you, and you were rather baffled at those words, eyes blinking from that bright screen to him as the detective turned his face to you, his features suddenly a lot closer than you ever had the pleasure of getting to know before.

"I might even just fall asleep sitting like this," he tells you and you aren't sure if it is in jest or if he is actually serious, but it horrifies you all the same.

"Your poor back," you exclaim and the male only smiles at that, having grown rather used to comments on his posture and the worry that followed. Few understood how it was part of his genius, after all, but it was a good distraction from the storm raging outside.

#death note x reader #death note #l lawliet #death note l #L x reader #l lawliet x reader

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kinktae · 4 years

Text

flesh and blood || 2 (M)

You are living in a society that is just now picking up the scraps that the Great Outbreak left behind after the government killed off the majority of the zombies. Still, some remain, and fear still lies within society’s walls. So imagine your surprise when the very thing you’ve been taught to fear ends up saving your life, showing you that maybe two beating hearts aren't always required when it comes to love.

pairing: zombie!jungkook x reader

word count: 5.9k

genre: post-apocalyptic, sci-fi, smut

warnings: lots of TV watching, mentions of conspiracy, joon doing some illegal shit, mentions of murder, & smooching

A/N: inspired by warm bodies and the fact that I'm a legitimate crackhead.

01 | 02 | 03

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PART TWO

Zombies were nothing like hamsters, you had come to find out over the past few days.

It seemed like an odd comparison, but it was the only other pet experience you could call upon. Your hamster, affectionately named Anarchy, was an impulse decision on your part, a running theme in your life it would come to seem. Nevertheless, you and Joon took it upon yourself to ensure she lived up her whopping two years of life, setting her up the biggest tank you could find and spoiling her with chew toys and salt licks. Anarchy was the perfect pet; she didn’t whine or grunt, didn’t eat all the chocolate in your fridge and she certainly didn’t follow you into the bathroom every time you needed to pee.

Your zombie friend, however, could not have the same said about him.

Namjoon and you spent many a night perched on the couch discussing very important zombie matters – Are steak saturdays a bad idea with a zombie in the house? Does he have a name? Should we be charging him rent? – while the zombie in question sat directly in front of the TV, completely consumed by the black and white film Namjoon had put on for him.

“Why can’t I just put some of my foundation on him?” You tried to reason.

“They’ll know he’s wearing makeup. Your foundation is cakey as hell.”

“What about— wait, what?” You blinked, surprised.

Namjoon shifted uncomfortably, flashing you an apologetic look, “Oh, sorry. I thought you knew.”

You rolled your eyes, glancing over at your TV to find that the zombie boy had not moved an inch since the last time you looked.

“Hey, brains.” You called out, feeling playful. “How would you feel about getting a spray tan?”

“Y/N, this is serious. I really don’t think he should ever leave the house.” Namjoon sighed, pulling your attention back onto him.

“You want to imprison him? He’s a person! He has to leave the house or he’ll go stir crazy. I know I would…”

Your best friend shook his head, and although you still felt like you had a case to argue, you knew that the discussion was over.

“I know, but if we’re seen outside with a zombie… It’s just what’s best for everyone, Y/N. Better safe than sorry.” Namjoon shrugged.

Leaning back into the couch, you crossed your arms over your chest. Of course, he was right, but that didn't make it any less unfair. Even if the zombie man had yet to utter a complaint since arriving at your place, you couldn't help but feel responsible for his well being. He saved your life after all.

A noise coming from the sitting zombie caused you and Namjoon to jump; it was a sharp, high pitched sound, unlike you had ever heard come from him before.

Shockingly, you looked over at the zombie to find the corners of his mouth turned up ever so slightly as the scene playing out on the television reflected in his dark eyes.

"Did he just..." Namjoon gaped.

"Laugh?" You finished the shared thought, a warm feeling falling over you. "Yeah. Sounds like he just did."

Namjoon hummed, tapping a finger against his thigh contemplatively. Suddenly, he stood up, heading out of the room. Your eyebrows furrowed, unsure of what he was doing.

"Where are you going?" You inquired.

"To start a Project Z chart. My groundbreaking research begins today!" His voice informed you from somewhere in the apartment.

You grinned, chuckling slightly. Bringing your knees into your chest, you wrapped your arms around them. Project Z, huh? Alright. Count you in.

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A thump against your foot pulled your eyes from your computer screen. You were sat in the living room, legs tucked under the coffee table as your ass took comfort on a pillow you placed on the floor.

"Hi, there!" You cooed, poking your head under the table as you greeted your hamster Anarchy. She had been roaming around the room in her giant clear hamster ball, one of her favorite ways to keep you company while you did your work.

The grey colored rodent continued forward, wheel rubbing against the length of your legs as she ran. Snatching the ball before she could get any further, you brought her up to eye level, her little nose sniffing at you.

"That's enough ball time for today, don't you think?" You asked her rhetorically.

Suddenly, your phone began to sound, the familiar tune of Monster by Lady Gaga ringing out for the kitchen.

"Brains!" You called out towards your zombie roommate, who was sat in his usual place in front of the TV. He wasn't actually responsive to your nickname for him, but thankfully, the volume of your tone caught his attention enough to turn and face you.

You placed Anarchy back onto the floor.

"Watch Anarchy." You pointed at your pet before pointing at him. "Don't let her roll out of the room."

The undead boy showed no sign of understanding, his eyes merely locking onto the contained mammal. He hadn't shown much interest in your hamster up until now, the TV taking up all his attention of course.

Thank god he was already a zombie because the amount of time he spent in front of that damn screen would have surely rotted his brain by now.

Assuming that his attention would not shift away from the rodent now that he was intrigued by it, you made your way out towards the kitchen, where you had left your phone to charge. You cursed as you watched the way the screen of your phone changed, the phone call ending before you could reach the device.

Grabbing your phone, you swiped it open, only to see that it had been Namjoon to call you.

Your eyes fixed on your phone, you sent him a message as you walked back into the living room.

[12:56 PM]

To: Joonie – sorry I missed ur call... did u need something?

You let out a small yelp as your toe hit itself on something– you knew exactly what it was as the sound of plastic rolling across the room rang out.

Your stomach sank heavily as you located the ball, not because you had just sent your hamster whirling across the room, but because the ball... was empty.

Your eyes widened as they found the ball's lid, lying ominously on the floor.

"Anarchy? How did–" You breathed before you realized you had left the zombie alone with your beloved pet.

A chill ran over you as you eyed him; he was once again watching the TV, cross-legged as if nothing was wrong.

"Oh my god..." You gaped. "Did– Did you eat Anarchy?!"

He didn't react to your voice and before you reason with yourself, you gripped his shoulder angrily, forcing him to look at you.

To your surprise, you were met with not just wide zombie eyes, but with the sight of Anarchy cupped carefully between his palms, very much alive. You let out a breath of relief, sinking down to sit beside him.

So your zombie friend didn't have a taste for rodents. Good to know.

"Sorry." You apologized reflexively before a chime, followed by another, called your attention.

The zombie watched carefully as you began to fiddle with that strange device he sometimes saw you occupied with.

You read the texts carefully.

[12:57 PM]

From: Joonie – just stopped by the market and picked up some human brains for dinner… JK lol

[12:57 PM]

From: Joonie – was gonna ask if you wanted something but im otw home. c u soon!

You were just about to put the phone away when something stopped you in your tracks.

Tap.

A finger poked at your screen, and your eyebrows raised to find the zombie leaning in close, attention fixed on the set of texts sent in by your best friend.

You gawked at him for a moment, unsure if he was capable of reading and understanding the words in front of him.

After a few silent moments passed by; you cleared your throat, deciding to read the texts to him.

“Just stopped by the market and picked up some human brains for dinner… JK haha.” You narrated.

To your surprise, the zombie boy let out a grunt, poking at your screen again. Confused, you followed his finger to see what exactly he was pointing at.

Tap.

His finger hovered over the acronym Namjoon had sent. Was he asking what it meant? You could imagine zombies weren't well versed in text slang.

“The letters J and K stand for just kidding.”

It felt silly talking to him like this. You had no clue if he even understood written language – or verbal for that matter.

If the boy understood what you said, though, he didn’t show any sign of it. Once again, he tapped his finger against the message, accidentally causing the word to become highlighted.

“Yes, yes, I see it.” You said, growing slightly frustrated at the clear lack of mutual understanding between you.

Tap.

“Okay, enough of that…” You sighed.

Ten minutes passed by uneventfully; Brains was watching his favorite show again, having had handed your hamster back so you could put her back and continue your work.

The sound of the front door opening caught your attention, accompanied by the rustling sounds of the grocery bags Namjoon was carrying.

"Welcome home!" You greeted, not peeling your eyes from your screen.

"Can I get some help, please?" Namjoon's disembodied voice called out, stealing a sigh from you.

Begrudgingly, you closed your laptop, trudging over to the kitchen to help the scientist.

Offering him a nod in greeting, you began sifting through the bags he had heaved over onto the kitchen counter, on a hunt for any frozen foods that needed to be stored immediately.

"Did you buy–"

"Chocolate?" Namjoon finished for you, tucking away a tub of ice cream into your freezer. "Yeah, duh. You only reminded me eight times before I left."

You flashed him a sheepish smile, pulling a plastic container of strawberries from a grocery bag.

"Did you get any work done?" Your roommate wondered conversationally. You shrugged.

"I guess. This article Seokjin has me working on for the paper is dull as hell."

"And how is our zombie friend? Did you guys bond with me gone?"

“Obviously. I mean, we're practically best friends now." You teased, rolling up a now empty bag. Namjoon gasped suddenly, a hand over his heart in pretend offense.

"You're not trying to replace me are you?" He sniffed fakely.

"Well, he does get along with Anarchy. He took her out of her ball and held her and everything." You shrugged, a small smirk pulling at your mouth.

The fridge door shut sharply, Namjoon's eyes narrowing in distaste, "You're telling me that little rat likes an undead stranger better than me? I can’t even put a hand in her enclosure without her trying to gnaw off a phalange!"

"Stop calling her a rat, she's a hamster!" A laugh escaped you, ever amused by the way your pet despised him.

"Interesting that he didn't eat her though." Namjoon continued, the two of you were nearly done putting the purchased food away. "I'll make sure to note that in his chart."

"I was surprised, too." You nodded.

"Learn anything else interesting that I should write down?"

"Not really. Just that he really likes the acronym JK. I read your text out to him and he wouldn’t stop tapping at my phone when I showed him it.” You explained, slipping a hand into the back pocket of your jeans casually.

The groceries were all stored meaning your moral duty as a roommate to help put them away was officially completed.

“Really? Interesting..." Namjoon hummed.

"Is it?" You mused.

"This could mean he understands transcribed text."

You thought back to the way the zombie had shown little to no reaction to Namjoon's words before shaking your head in disagreement.

"I doubt it."

"You said you read it out to him right? Maybe it’s zombie slang for something. Or at least sounds like it.” He pressed.

You pondered that idea for a moment before responding, “You think zombies have their own language? I haven’t heard a sound out of him other than the occasional grunt or groan.”

“Why not? If animals are able to communicate within their own species, why not zombies? Nonverbal communication occurs in the animal kingdom all the time.” Namjoon explained, once again proving himself to be the smarter of you two.

Suddenly, without warning, he began to make his way over to the living room; you cocked your head in confusion before following him.

“What are you doing?” You questioned, worried he was going to harass the unsuspecting zombie again. Often you'd have to step in and remind Namjoon that the zombie wasn't a test rat that he could just poke and prod at whenever he wanted.

Said zombie was, of course, exactly where you had left him, sat upright on the couch looking stiff and unnatural as ever as he watched his TV with a blank expression.

“I’m gonna test out a theory.” Namjoon declared without warning, and to your disbelief, he let out a loud grumble.

“J...K…” He groaned out, voice clearly trying to imitate that of a zombie’s. Oh, god. Your best friend was an idiot. He really was.

Just as you were about to hit Namjoon on the shoulder for being such a dumbass, the seated zombie unexpectedly turned towards the two of you, clearly responding to the word.

He stared at you both with wide, unblinking eyes before letting out a huff of his own.

“Holy shit.” You breathed silently.

“Well. I think I just spoke zombie." Namjoon whispered. Neither of you dared to take your eyes off the walker as a small ounce of fear began to set in.

What exactly had Namjoon said to him? Was it possible to offend a zombie? Should you both start running now?

And as if you weren't taken back enough, you completely lost the ability to breathe altogether when a corner of the zombie boy’s mouth twitched upward, flashing you both a crooked, yet unmistakable smile.

“Is he... smiling?” You turned to face your best friend only to see that he was smiling back at the zombie.

“Remind me to put zombie whisperer on my résumé.” Namjoon grinned smugly.

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"No, this is mine. That one is yours." You huffed, grabbing back the stolen candy bar.

"Mine." JK repeated, reaching over for the very item you had just taken back from him. You let out a groan, throwing your hands up in defeat.

"I take it he's not grasping the concept of ownership?" Namjoon glanced up from whatever hospital file he was looking over.

"That little brat knows what I mean, he's just greedy and stubborn." You accused, glaring at the zombie who had already peeled open the wrapper of your chocolate.

In the past two weeks since you first brought home the stubborn zombie, there had been much development on his part. For starters, Namjoon and you had deducted that his name must be JK as it was the only word he responded to every time without fail.

Along with that discovery came the shocking utterance of words on his part.

Y/N. Joon. No. Mine. Sorry. Candy.

Each one was just as jarring as the one before, even if simple. Namjoon, although disappointed your name was JK's first words and not his, was thrilled. Language reacquisition was certainly something reports on zombies failed to notice.

"Hmm... wonder where he picked that up from..." Namjoon muttered sourly. At his words, you frowned.

"Excuse me, are you suggesting something mister?" You raised an eyebrow at him challenging.

Your best friend let out a laugh, "You say that as if you aren't the most hard-headed, unyielding human being to ever walk this earth."

"Bold words for someone who can't even go to sleep unless a nightlight is present." You scoffed.

"Hey!" Namjoon slammed the paperwork down onto the coffee table, causing you to roll your eyes. The zombie frowned, eyes flickering between the two humans. "That was a low blow! I could have brought up the fact that you're in your twenties and still can't drive but some of us have class, you know."

"Driving is scary!" You defended, turning your nose up at him. "Besides, why do I need to drive when I have a chauffeur?"

"You ass, I am not your chauffeur–"

"Joon." JK's gruff voice rang out suddenly, silencing the room. His eyes glared at the tall human openly.

Namjoon looked taken aback at the zombie's sudden call, his eyes flickering to you for reassurance, but you hadn't a clue what was happening either.

"...Yes?" He finally replied, voice hesitant.

The zombie immediately dropped the chocolate, hand coming up to point at you instead. You quirked a brow, noting the way he had yet to take his cold eyes off Namjoon.

"Sorry." JK demanded.

You let out a laugh.

"Wha– Are you kidding?" The scientist marveled. "Hell no, I'm not apologizing to her."

"Joon. Sorry." The zombie said once more, a clipped tone behind the word.

You were a giggling mess, hand coming up to cover your mouth as you watched your roommates interact with amusement.

"Why just me? Y/N should apologize too!" Namjoon whined.

JK held the man's stare for just a beat when swiftly, he grabbed the file that he had placed down onto the table.

"Woah– Hey, naughty zombie! Give that back."

"No." The zombified man responded dryly, only causing you to laugh harder.

JK glanced your way for a moment, taking note of how pleasant the sound before once again turning to Namjoon.

"Yeah, Joon! Say sorry." He could hear you tease beside him.

"Yeah." JK repeated after you, his head nodding in a way that was convincingly human-like.

"Son of a bitch. He's like the undead male version of you." Namjoon griped, crossing his arms over his chest.

Ultimately, he cried uncle.

"Fine. Y/N, I am so sorry, please forgive me." His eyes flew back to JK, extending his hand out pleadingly. "Now can I please have that file back?"

JK frowned, wanting to say something but lacking the necessary words to express himself, so instead, he turned towards Y/N.

You were already looking at him, elbow perched on the table as you rested your chin on your open palm. You were smiling in the way that always made him feel funny; your eyes shiny and amiable.

You gave him a nod, which was all the reassurance he needed before he finally handed the file back over to the man he had stolen it from. Namjoon snatched it back eagerly, pulling it into his chest in case either of his roommates tried to pull that same stunt again.

"Monsters. Both of you." He said in a flat tone. You chuckled, heeding his words no mind as you spotted the abandoned chocolate lying on the table that the zombie had set down.

JK watched with a frown as you took the candy bar from him, his noise of protest dying in his throat the moment he saw the way your lips wrapped around the sweet treat.

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“Y/N.”

“Hm?” You replied, still concentrating on the apple you were slicing up for the zombie. As willing as he was to keep eating candy all day, you didn't want Jungkook's insides to decay any more than they already had.

Jungkook.

The sudden discovery of the zombie's full name was an unexpected one. It happened last week on a night much like others. You had just finished drying up his sheets and pillow cover, the fabrics warm and heavy in your arms. You had noticed your zombie friend had been particularly pensive that day, not chatting much which certainly was unusual for him nowadays. So as you walked into the living room, you weren't surprised to find him sitting at the couch staring out at the metal bars that ran along the length of the window as he appeared lost in his thoughts.

"Here you go. Nice and warm." You had announced, dropping the sheets onto the zombie's lap. He was yanked from his thoughts by the sudden weight.

"Nighty-night, sleep tight, don't let the zombies bite." You chimed breezily. The childhood rhyme might not apply in this particular case but you found the humor in it enough to say it to him every night.

The zombie gave you a slow nod, causing your brows to furrow slightly. It really wasn't like him to be this quiet. Lately, it had almost seemed as if he couldn't shut up; he was a human parrot, regurgitating and repeating every word that caught his interest, even occasionally forming sentences.

Namjoon deduced that this must be something of a second term speech emergence– or as you understood it, just a fancy science term meaning JK was rapidly learning how to speak.

A soft click rang out as you flicked the light switch on the wall off. The moon was bright and full tonight, it's light seeping through the window as it painted a wash of blue on the zombie and the couch.

"Y/N."

His voice was small; if it weren't for the quiet of the night you doubt you would've caught the call at all.

"Yes? Is everything okay?"

There was an undeniable melancholy in the air. It seeped through his tone and engulfed the room.

"I remember."

The words stunned you and after a silent beat, you were walking over to him, sitting down on the coffee table across from him.

"What? What do you remember? Tell me." You urged softly.

You watched as he swallowed shakily, eyebrows furrowing as his jaw opened and closed, fighting for a response. He could see it all, flashing from one scene to another in the back of his mind. There was a family that loved him. A pretty girl that made his chest tighten like it did when he was near you. A car accident. A morgue. Screaming. A group of six boys taking him in. Men in black uniforms pinning them to the ground as he hid and watched.

It was suffocating.

"JK?" You called out worriedly, noticing the way emotion clouded his eyes and how his breathing was becoming ragged.

"Jungkook." A name came out raspily as if saying it out loud was painful.

"What?" You blinked.

"Jungkook." He mourned, tears falling from his eyes. "I remember."

Your heart sank as his face twisted up, and before you could stop yourself, you stood and pulled him into you, his face finding the crook of your neck as he began to weep. You let out a breath, your hand petting the back of his head in hopes to comfort him, his hair still damp from his shower earlier.

Needless to say, when Namjoon came back from his night shift to see the two of you curled up asleep on the couch together, he had many questions.

“Y/N, come here.” Jungkook's voice insisted, causing you to huff.

'No please, huh? Typical man.' You thought to yourself bitterly as you placed the knife in the sink, scooping up the plate of freshly cut apples as you made your way over to him.

"Here. Apples. Eat." You ordered, placing the plate down in front of him. Jungkook had graduated from sitting on the floor to the couch while watching TV, truly an astonishing character development on his part.

"What are they doing?" Jungkook ignored you, completely captivated by whatever he was watching.

Pressing your lips together, you watched the scene unfold on the screened box.

“They’re kissing.” You said, glancing back at the fascinated man that sat beside you, unsure of how to approach this subject.

"What?" Jungkook cocked his head, clearly not familiar with the term.

“What they’re doing? Yeah, it’s called a kiss.”

The romantic lead and his female counterpart were locking lips under an umbrella as rain poured around them, uplifting music humming in the background. Just the kind of grand romantic movie ending all pre-apocalypse movies seemed to have.

“Kiss.” Jungkook repeated, testing out the word.

“Yeah, you do it with someone you care about. Someone you’re close with.”

“Do Y/N and Namjoon... kiss?” He muttered.

Your eyes grew, quick to shake your head vehemently, “Huh? Oh no! God no. We’re just friends.”

“Friends?” The zombie pressed.

“Yeah. We’re close and care about each other but… definitely no kissing.” You shuttered. You had known Namjoon for too damn long to even entertain that idea.

“No kissing. Just friends.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.” Jungkook nodded, seemingly content with the information he was just given. "But why do they kiss?"

You shifted in your seat. Was this what parents felt like when it was time to give their kids 'the talk?'

“Well… It feels nice. And I guess it's a way of showing someone you love them.” You shrugged shyly.

“Love."

Jungkook seemed to be merely repeating you rather than pressing for an explanation as he turned his attention back to the movie.

“Confusing.” Jungkook concluded.

“Yeah, well, you’re not wrong.” You mused through a laugh, bringing his attention back on to you and the way he couldn't help but smile every time you heard you do so.

And there it was again. That strange, tight feeling in his chest that he had yet to find a word for... up until now.

"Y/N."

Turning towards him, your world froze the second his lips found yours. They were soft and warm much like the hands that cupped either side of your face.

Pulling away from the kiss, Jungkook opened his eyes, heat finding both your faces as you gawked at him with wide eyes.

"Sorry." He apologized suddenly.

"Y-You just..." Your words failed you, there was no possible way to wrap your head around what just happened.

You brought a hand to your lips, fingers running along your bottom one before covering your mouth altogether.

"Gosh. You have to ask before you kiss someone, brains." You turned away from him, tone of voice serious as if to scold him.

Jungkook nodded quietly, unsure of how to reply, especially when he could see the way you smiled behind your hand.

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You were trying to sleep, you really were. But unfortunately for you, when your, admittedly good looking, zombie roommate kisses you, it tends to consume your thoughts. You felt like you were overthinking everything despite the fact that you knew nothing.

Was it a misunderstanding on your part? Did you explain kissing in a way that confused him and he was just trying to express his gratitude towards you for taking care of him for all this time?

Or did he... love you?

God, you sounded ridiculous, you know you did. How could a zombie even understand an idea as complex as love? Why was this even affecting you so much? Why did it matter?

Your thoughts were bordering on dangerous territory right now, and in desperate need of a distraction, you rang up Namjoon.

"Joon!" You greeted the second he picked up.

"Uh, hey?" Your best friend replied warily. “Is everything okay?"

"What? Yeah! Of course, I mean, why wouldn't everything be okay?" You replied, heart racing as you swung your legs against the side of your bed.

"Well, for starters, you're calling me at three in the morning? Why aren't you sleeping?"

Namjoon often went to do work late at night at the hospital for his internship; usually, it meant you got to see little of him in the mornings as he was passed out cold but this time it actually worked to your advantage.

"Oh, I'm just... thinking, I guess. How are things at the hospital?" You diverted quickly.

"It's kind of a slow night," Namjoon revealed and you could almost picture the way he'd shrug, "but I'm guessing you didn't call me to ask me that. What's going on, weirdo?"

You let out a sigh. He was your best friend, after all. Of course, he'd see right through you.

"It's just... Jungkook. He's just so different from everything we thought we knew about zombies."

"I know, right? He's nearly completely fluent now, don't you think?"

"No, it's more than that." You furrowed your brows, laying back on your bed. "He's just– I mean he's got... emotions and preferences and memories. I think he might even... Ugh, nevermind I’m just overthinking.”

"Did... something happen that I should know about?" Namjoon mused. You bit down on your lip, unsure of how to answer.

"We know he's different from the others but–" You chose to ignore before he cut you off.

"But what?"

Staring at your ceiling, you sorted through your thoughts– thoughts that you had been toying with for a while now.

"What if there are more like him? And if so, where are they? Have they been killed? What role does the DEAD Team play in this?"

"Hm. I don't know... but let me see if I can find out." Namjoon said, causing you to sit up in surprise.

Of course! Research was Namjoon's whole thing. If anyone could find out more about this, it was him.

"Okay, yeah! Let me know if you find anything." You replied.

"And Y/N," Namjoon began suddenly, his tone shift slightly. "If you’re right... Wait. Nevermind, let's, uh, just not talk about this over the phone anymore, okay?"

"Oh... okay." You blinked in confusion at your best friend's nebulous words.

"Good night, weirdo."

"Night." You muttered back, hitting the end call button as you tried to suppress the uneasy feeling in your gut.

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The feeling of someone yanking the covers off your body jolted you awake. Squinting, you tried to orient yourself, the lights in your room blinding your tired eyes.

"What the fuck?" You grumbled, eyes focusing on the hovering body that soon revealed itself to be your boisterous best friend.

"Morning, sunshine!" Namjoon chimed.

"Ugh, what time is it?"

"Around six in the morning!" He answered before taking a seat on your bed, dropping a pile of what looked to be meaningless junk next to your body.

“Can I just say, finding anything outbreak-related that isn’t Anti-Zombie propaganda is fucking difficult… Luckily for you, I happen to be a genius with a lot of friends in the computer programming field.” Your best friend explained cockily.

“Oh shit." You rubbed at your eyes before taking in the pile. "Find anything good?”

“Oh, yeah. Turns out you’re not the only one who thinks there is more to the zombie story. I found an archive of a forum of people like us sharing stories and conspiracies about the Great Outbreak and the government’s involvement in it.”

“Really? How have I never stumbled upon that before?” You pondered.

“That’s just it. It was an archive, meaning the forum doesn’t exist anymore, it was shut down. The whole site was shut down actually, seemingly out of nowhere. Unfortunately for whoever took it down, once someone takes a step onto the internet, there are always footprints left behind. Nothing is ever really gone forever.”

You let his words sink in, still on sleepy brain mode.

“So... do you think the government took the site down?”

Namjoon flashed you a look as if to say well, obviously.

“A lot of the thread was purely he said she said stuff, but I did find some compelling pieces of evidence. Most notably… this.”

Namjoon reached into the pile and pulled out an old copy of a newspaper, placing it on top for you to read. Printed on the first page was a picture of a family you didn’t know, consisting of a mother, a father, and two daughters. On top of the picture in all bold was the title, “FAMILY KILLED BY ZOMBIE DAUGHTER.”

You vaguely remembered hearing about this story on the news when you were younger. But even then, you hardly gave sensationalized news much thought.

“Anyway, the youngest daughter, Shelby, died some time ago from some form of cancer. There are records of her parents taking her in to get that sketchy ass drug if you remember–”

“Immortuos, of course.” You nodded.

“Yeah. Obviously, she ended up dying and coming back to life. However, instead of letting the DEAD Team take her into custody, her family somehow managed to sneak her out of the mortuary her body was being stored in.”

Your eyes grew in size, “Are you serious? Wait, how do you know this?”

Namjoon rummaged through the pile, pulling out a piece of paper before holding it out to you. You stared down at it.

“Is this… a credit card statement?”

“Shelby’s father’s credit card statement.”

You shifted back away from the paper, sitting up in your bed. You were looking at a dead man’s credit card history. Weird.

“How the literal hell did you even get your hands on this?”

“I have my ways.” Namjoon smirked. You nodded, impressed at just how much your best friend had gotten away with.

“Anyway, look at this. Five days before the entire family’s reported death, the father bought four plane tickets.”

Four plane tickets?

“Well, that doesn't make sense. If it was just the oldest sister and her parents, they would only need three.” Your brows furrowed.

“Right. But with Shelby alive again…” Namjoon hinted.

“Four tickets.” You marveled, finally understanding. “They were trying to run away.”

You shook your head, “But wait this newspaper says Shelby killed her family, right? So what really happened? Why didn’t the family make their flight?”

“So there’s speculation that the government heavily monitored the immediate family of the recently undead after their resurrection. People on the forum theorized that the government caught wind of the family’s plan and killed them off before they got the chance to flee. Clearly, they thought the family knew something they shouldn’t have otherwise they would have just taken the girl. I mean think about it, do you really think a six-year-old could overpower her sister and two adult parents? ‘Cause I don’t.”

You sat in silence for a second. It made sense. The zombie girl was already back with the family so it would be the perfect guise to fall back on: ‘Naive family takes back zombie child only to be eaten alive!’ That would certainly deter other families from trying to do the same.

A thought crossed you suddenly.

“Hey, this happened in our town. You have access to the hospital's morgue records… do you think there is any way–”

“One step ahead of you.” Namjoon interrupted, pulling out an aged manila envelope from the pile, the word confidential clearly stamped onto it.

You held Namjoon’s eyes in disbelief, wondering how the fuck you had befriended a master level criminal, before taking the envelope into your hands and prying it open. Inside were four sheets of paper. Copies of autopsy reports, with each respective family member’s name on it. Your stomach dropped as you let your eyes roll over them, realizing each sheet of paper had been signed off the same way:

Cause of Death: GUNSHOT TO HEAD

Manner of Death: MANDATED HOMICIDE

Police Notified: NO

"Mandated homicide– whoever executed their deaths was ordered to do so. And if the police weren't notified then..."

"Yeah." Namjoon confirmed grimly. A wave of nausea rolled over you suddenly.

“The family knew what we know. That not all zombies are dangerous.” You breathed, swallowing dryly. “And now... they're dead.”

Your apprehensive eyes met Namjoon's, the air thick with the feeling that you two had just stumbled upon something much bigger than yourselves– something you would not come out of unscathed.

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nakedmossy · 4 years

Text

Depth Over Distance - Part One [Rudy x Reader]

[A/N: I haven’t found a hometown Rudy fic yet soooo I wrote one. I have no idea where this story is going to go and I’m honestly finding it hard to get out of writing JJ and get into writing Rudy, but here we go anyways. I wanted to write something where the reader and Rudy were hometown friends before he moved to LA, and to explore the idea of how that would change/what it would look like when he comes back. Get ready for a S L O W. B U R N. my dudes. Peace and love, Mossy x]

The sky was grey and the air was wet - it had been raining for 4 days straight. You sat in your car with the heat cranked, your window down slightly so that the humidity didn’t fog up your mirrors. Living on the Alaskan coast was beautiful most of the time but horrible some of the time, especially when you had to waste gas just keeping warm and dry at 6pm in the beginning of ‘Summer’.

You had never lived anywhere else aside from the summer you spent in Vancouver with your cousin when you were 19. Now, at 23, you were working full time at the local bookshop that was an 8 minute drive from your house in the winter and a 20 minute walk/skate in the summer. Your car was parked street side, waiting for your friend Lizzy to finish her shift at the cafe. The smell of the rain and the Ben Howard song on the radio made you nostalgic about the times you and your friends from high school had spent hours skating down these streets, beers in your backpacks, no helmets, dirty shoes and clothes, no pressure, no responsibilities, no cell service...no worries.

Since graduation a lot of your friends had moved out of town, either to Anchorage or down to Washington, or further south. Your best friend Lizzy had stayed close to home, helping run her families business and working part time at the cafe. You had stayed local too...your dad owned a fishing guide business and your mom was an admin assistant for the MD in town, but neither made enough to cover all the medical bills you had racked up over the last few years. You figured once the debt was paid off you might leave...but you had no idea where you would go.

You missed all of your friends, but you missed the boys the most, aside from Lizzy you didn't have a lot of female friends, and your boys had been like brothers to you. You spoke to most of them every few weeks on FaceTime, except Rudy. He had gone to LA for awhile and had kept in touch loosely, but after the first few months he started to drift.

You felt the loss the hardest for Rudy. He had been your closest friend the longest, you had spent nearly every day of every summer together since you were 9, and every school year you worked the same part time job at the seafood restaurant on the water. Now, the last you heard, he was coming back for the summer to ‘reconnect’. You had low expectations and tried not to let yourself get excited, but truthfully, you wanted him to spend some time at home and be around his own kind again - he had always been a homebody and you were worried that being gone for 4 years would go to his head or change him.

Lizzy tapped on the glass, causing you to blink out of your reverie and smile at her. You rolled the window down and let her reach in and open the door from the inside (the handle had been broken since high school). She threw her backpack and skateboard in the back seat, climbing in and closing her door.

“Ugh.” She grunted as her teeth chattered and she rubbed her bare legs.

“You know its only May, you shouldn’t even be wearing shorts yet. The snow just melted.”

Lizzy glared at you playfully and put her hand out to do your handshake. You did it, then put the car in drive and started slowly down the street, windshield wipers moving rhythmically.

“How was the shift?” You asked as you checked your mirrors and wiped some humidity off the rear view.

“Same old” Lizzy leaned back in her seat and pulled the visor mirror down to fix her hair. “That old man Collins from the cannery keeps coming in and harassing me.”

“Jack? The one with the eye patch?”

Lizzy nodded dramatically as she held the bobby pins in her mouth and started to twist her straight black hair off her face.

“That guy-“ She finished placing the final pin and slammed the visor closed “-Is an absolute creep.”

You snorted a sarcastic laugh and rolled your eyes.

“He’s like...70. And widowed. Don’t be rude.”

“I’m not being rude. Im just...asserting my boundaries.”

“You literally have a 3 foot counter between you at minimum, at all times.” You looked over at her and raised your eyebrows.

“Whatever. All I’m saying is we need hotter men in this town. Like...soon.”

You nodded in agreement and felt your eyes wander all over the road, remembering the time you and Rudy had taken your longboards down it after a torrential downpour and you had crashed and gotten such bad road burn that he had to call his dad to come pick you both up because you couldn’t walk.

“Hey, Y/N, are you listening?” Lizzy cut back in, staring at you.

“No, what?”

“I said, speaking of hot guys, I heard Rudy is coming back for a few months.”

You pinched your face and looked at her then at the road, then back at her.

“Rudy is not hot. Rudy is....Rudy. What are you talking about?”

Lizzy looked at you disbelieving and closed her mouth, trying not to smile.

“What!” You repeated, smacking her arm.

“Hey!” She laughed, then shook her head and looked out the window. “Whatever you say man, I just think....” She grabbed her water bottle and began to screw off the lid “I just think...he’s not gonna be the same Rudy that left 4 years ago. He’s like...a movie star now.”

You couldn’t even begin to touch that one. You knew what she was doing...she was always harping on you about going on dates or taking trips with her to the mainland to hook up with the pilots during their layovers. You never went, and always insisted that you were just fine and were not interested. She never listened. Part of that was true...you were fine, and usually not interested. But sometimes, when the water was calm and the sunset was colourful and the fish were jumping and your beer was cold...you wished you had someone to share it with.

“I’m going up to Skagway this weekend with my dad” You said, changing subjects. “He’s short a guide and needs someone to drive the boat.”

“Lucky you” She said sarcastically, screwing the lid back on her bottle. “Another weekend spent with men twice your age who have zero ability to catch a fish and even less ability to smell nice.”

“It’s good money.” You said flatly, annoyed that everything seemed to revolve around men with her. “And in case you forgot I’m kinda in need of that at the moment.”

Lizzy licked her lips and put her hands up, dipping her head.

“Alright...noted. Chill out Kemosabe.” She giggled under her breath and looked out her window, drawing a small penis in the moisture on the window.

“Babe, seriously. You need to get laid.” You said, shaking your head.

“I know” She replied, working on the veins. “Trust me. Im in a state of national emergency by this time of year.”

Lizzy was absolutely one of the girliest girls (and most beautiful girls) in the south of Alaska, which was ironic considering the house she grew up in. Her dad was an overweight German restaurant entrepreneur who had opened a world class seafood restaurant in Juneau back in the 90s and had shacked up with her mother who was this drop dead gorgeous Haida warrior woman who you had literally seen kill and skin a bear with her own hands.

They had forged this chain of restaurants local to Alaska that people flew hundreds of miles to eat at, but still lived in an off-grid cabin that hadn’t been insulated since 1960 and used wood heating. Not really the type of family that screamed southern belle femininity - yet somehow Lizzy came out of that union with a pink bed set, refusing to ever wear camo or sweatpants, and still had never shot a gun - which her mother reminded her of weekly.

Lizzy had hit puberty at 10 and had used her breast advantage over every girl in your class for the next 3 years like some sort of distinction of better genetics, as if she needed boobs to prove that. Unlike you, she was naturally thin and tall (6ft to be precise), had long, thick straight black hair and olive skin, and perfect hips. You felt like a prepubescent boy standing next to her, with your uneven complexion and your frizz and your awkward thigh fat distribution. You were envious of her genetics - her mother graced her with the body of an athlete and the thick black hair, and her father had given her height and cheekbones that could slice through glass. You looked down at your arms, covered in freckles, pasty white from lack of sun, and cringed, looking back at the road.

You turned the corner leaving the main road and starting on the dirt road that led to your favourite part of beach access. Lizzy pulled her hoodie out of her backpack and took off her seatbelt, leaning forward to pull it down over her head. You leaned forward and looked up, this was your favourite part of the drive. The dirt road which was lined with moss and ferns and other foliage wound along the base of the snow capped mountain that was at least 1000ft in elevation. The mist and fog from the coast was thick and creeped through the tall cedar trees, black ravens and falcons flying overhead stark against the white mist. This was the most idyllic picture of northwest coastal living you could find.

When you parked at the trail head Lizzy slipped off her work flats and into her Teva’s, you grabbed your yellow Vans out of your trunk and slipped them on. You usually drove bare foot, a habit you had started in high school after Rudy had thrown your shoes off the dock at the restaurant and you had to drive home without any. You grabbed your sweater and your backpack which had the beer in it. As you were both gathering the rest of your things...beach blanket, hats, and rain cover, you heard a car pull up behind you. You stood up out of the trunk and squinted to see the car through the fog. It was a black ford pickup you had never seen before.

“Who’s that?” Lizzy chimed in from behind you.

“No clue” You said as you lifted your hand to wave once.

The truck had tinted windows and looked brand new. When it pulled up beside you, the drivers side window began to unroll, revealing Junior - your high school (ex) sweetheart.

“Holy” You said, eyebrows up, nodding. “Nice truck - where’d you steal it from?” He rolled his eyes at you dramatically.

“Whatever kid - its a rental. Got it to drive to the airport in.” His chest puffed out and his expression read so proud.

“Airport?” You said inquisitively. “Since when does Alan pay you to drive new trucks to the airport?”

“Since Rudy hired him for the pick up service and apparently is incapable of driving his own ass around anymore” Junior snorted and waved at Lizzy.

“Or he doesn’t have a car here anymore” You noted, rolling your eyes at him.

“Either way, I get this bad boy for the next 24 hours and I intend to give her the royal grand tour of our humble town.” He ran his hand up and down the steering wheel, stroking the new leather. “Wanna go for a rip?” He said, winking. You shook your head and crossed your arms over your chest.

“Well I do” Lizzy piped up from beside you, walking closer to the window. She smiled at Junior and began to put her hair in a pony tail. She nudged your arm as she began to walk to the passenger side door. “Come on, granny. Let’s go!”

She laughed as she climbed up into the truck, but you shook your head again.

“I’m good...you kids have fun. Say hi to Rudy for me” You said to Junior, who shrugged his head and muttered ‘definitely wont do that’ under his breath.

Lizzy blew a kiss at you and waved once before Junior put it in drive and started to go up the dirt road north of you.

Junior and you had ended on okay terms, but he had concocted a theory that you had broken up with him because of another guy, and the unspoken suggestion was that that guy had been Rudy. Small town guys had a heck of a time with the idea of girls and guys just being friends.

You sighed and watched as the truck disappeared around the corner, and turned back to your own car. You grabbed your backpack and slammed the trunk closed, walking down the path alone. You weren’t mad at Lizzy for going with him - she was flighty and bailed on you at the bar all the time - but you were mad the beer was going to go warm before you could drink it all. Not that you should even be drinking 6 beers alone by the water when you had to drive yourself home. Doubtful the 2 cops in this town would even be awake to see you though. Whatever.

You reached the end of the path and rounded the corner, revealing the coast line and the rocky beach. It was your favourite place to sit and think, sit and smoke, sit and be yourself. The beach curled in a U shape, giving you a private spot where the rest of the shoreline was blocked from view and all you could see was the ominous cedar forest that stretched up the mountain, the snow caps at the top, and the horizon over the cold pacific.

You had intended to share the joint you had in your pocket with Lizzie, but...well, her loss. You spread the blanket out on the softest patch of sand and rocks you could find (which still meant you were guaranteed to get at least 2 rocks in the ass) and placed your bag down, kicking off your sneakers. You took a deep breath for the first time in a few days and lit the joint, taking one long, deep inhale. You felt it tingle through your chest and your arms and legs almost immediately, relaxing you. Being here alone always sent you into a spiral of memories and thoughts that you worked hard during the day to suppress. Most insistent lately had been thoughts about your health problems. You called them ‘health problems’ but in reality it was just an eating disorder. You could go 2, sometimes 3 days without eating anything, and never felt hungry. It started after graduation.

You had lost weight, dramatically, going from a stable 120-125 to 95 at most and 90 at worst, in the span of a month. And for the next three years you had never gained it back, you had stayed at a relatively stable 95, which still left you looking sickly and too thin at 5’3”. Your frame wasn’t built for that kind of weight drop, you were Scottish and Cree, sprinkled with a little bit of German and Irish. A classic northwest cracker mix. You weren’t naturally small, you always had a bit of something to grab onto, but it was normal to your body, healthy.

Some part of your brain knew that it had something to do with leaving school...and the pretence that came with that. The expectation...the responsibility. You were never that kind of person, and it never really bothered you, but suddenly it had. You never planned to go to University right away, but you had no back up plan. It wasn't something you and your friends really talked about. But suddenly Jacob had gotten into U of Washington, Dan had left to backpack Europe, and Rudy had not so graciously announced he was deferring his acceptance and scholarship to culinary school because he wanted to be an actor, and flew to LA the next month. You had been left behind, with Lizzy of all people, and it had hit you hard.

You looked around the beach, dragging on your joint quicker than normal, trying to knock the thoughts out of your head. An Eagle screeched above - scaring you - and you laid back on the blanket, closing your eyes. You needed to chill the hell out. This was the first time in a few weeks that you had gotten a night off from helping your dad with his guide business and you didn’t plan on wasting it riddling your brain with anxiety and worrying about your body.

You looked up at the sky and watched the mist and fog kiss the clouds, the sunset colours dancing across them. As it usually did, the rain had stopped just as the sun was going down, the clouds parting briefly and letting the smallest sliver of sunlight through, just enough to burn the grey light out of the sky and allow the pink and orange hues to fade along the horizon. You sat up and cracked a beer, enjoying the fresh smelling air and the rhythmic sound of the waves licking the shore line.

Two beers in you had put on your jacket and placed your Bluetooth speaker next to you on the blanket, blasting a playlist that Rudy had made you for your graduation party.

Three beers in you took the jacket off, standing up and dancing by yourself on the beach to the music.

Four beers in you laid down on the blanket, balled your jacket up and used it as a pillow, and started looking for shapes in the stars.

Five beers in you fell sleep.

———

Many hours later, as the sun rose and was bright on the water and the early morning bird feed was in full swing overhead, you were drifting in and out of sleep to the squawking when a shadow came across your face, alerting you to groggily open your eyes.

“What’s up, Little Fern?” His voice had gotten deeper. Wait, what?

You opened your eyes and blinked, raising a hand to block the sun. There, in your very awake and very not dreaming state, was the unmistakable silhouette that you had spent the last 18 years dreaming about and 18 years being a friend to.

Rudy.

#rudy pankow #reader x rudy #depth over distance #nakedmossywrites #jj maybank #outer banks #obx

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baegarrick · 4 years

Note

hi hello so i’m coming to you because you’re the only person in the zukka fandom that i’ve seen blogging about the old guard and i love that movie SO MUCH and i can’t stop thinking about immortal zukka..... aang as either nile or andy bc i can’t choose, andy wouldn’t lose her immortality, and no one would betray anyone bc i say so 😌 how do you think an atla/the old guard au would work?? (zukkababey)

ok i rly love the idea of immortal everyone but tbh!!! i really dont know enough about asian history to like... go into detail about this honestly and I really didn’t want to come off as racist by fudging some stuff, but here r some bulletpoints about Things

(also u can slide into my dms 2 talk about this if u want, or if u have a discord, sorry it too so long I literally cant stop writing when I get on Topics. I'm so sorry if this gets off topic)

Sokka & Katara

In this au they’re not biologically related, but are both Inuit

Sokka dies first in a skirmish with another group of indigenous people in northern Canada (Inuit Nunangat) sometime prior to 1800

He knows he died, his people saw him die, and he doesn’t understand what’s happening (I really don’t know enough about the Inuit people to say whether they would have rejected him or tried to help him understand what happened to him)

however, I’d like to think they’d at least tell him to talk to the angakkuq, the shaman, and would probably see this as a positive thing

Eventually his band of people would whittle down to just a dozen or so, after long winters and harsh climates, and they were forced to assimilate with other bands who didn’t have ancestors who were there when Sokka died in the first place, so he has to move on.

He travels around for a while, trading and learning and staying in bands for a few years before moving on to another group, until it’s the 1800s

Around this time, Katara is born (and dies)

She refuses to stand down against a white French hunter who wanted to take one of the young women in her village as a wife, and she’s killed, and the woman is taken anyway.

When she wakes up, she’s furious, and before she can understand what happened to her, she finds the man and kills him. She’s arrested and set to be killed when Sokka finds her.

They aren’t biological siblings, but they come from the same people, and the world is changing rapidly and they’re the only people they know who are like this. The idea of marrying Katara is the worst thing that Sokka can think of-- look at her, she’s just a baby!!-- so they call each other siblings and travel together.

Zuko

ok again i know literally 0 things about chinese history like i googled “female chinese warriors” for suki and got like 100 things for mulan

Zuko is old, probably one of the oldest of the (living) group, but younger than Aang

he was the first son of the second son of the emperor in a time of political conflict in China. His father, the prince, was at war with his own brother who Zuko considered a father figure.

zuko speaks out against his father and is killed for being a traitor, but, guess what, he doesn’t die!!! his father does it again for posterity and uhhhhhh still doesn’t die. (or rather, dies, and comes back)

here’s where my uhhhhhh lack of knowledge is Bad

would his father banish him for being cursed? for somehow being against the gods?

or would he force him to fight in his armies, against his uncle, because he can’t die?

I was going to go with “banished” but fighting for decades in a fight he doesn’t want to be in is so! much! worse!

his father wants to know the secrets of his immortality and when he can’t share it he’s tortured and tested for years, and eventually sent out to fight as an immortal soldier who can’t die.

eventually he escapes, and leaves china for a long time (he doesn’t return for centuries)

he is highly distrustful of anyone for years bc of his father!! he wanders around for years like he does in Zuko Alone (or like Quynh before Andy finds her) and while he sees small bits of humanity, he has little faith in it and their wars, because he is Not One Of Them

For money he joins bandit groups or warlords or mercenaries, because why does any of that matter to him? Everyone dies.

Eventually he meets Aang, who is Humanity Personified, and Aang asks him if he thinks they can be friends-- but they’re on opposite sides of this conflict and Zuko is too disillusioned to want that. (they part ways)

He meets a man, Iroh, who reminds him of his uncle. They travel together for far longer than Zuko normally would, because he likes having a father figure, and because Iroh lost a son about Zuko’s age. They travel for years and Zuko never ages, so eventually he has to leave. Iroh finds him a few years later, greyer and slower, but tells Zuko that he knows about Zuko.

Zuko reacts poorly to this, lashing out, but Iroh is calm. Zuko breaks down and tells him he can’t give Iroh what he wants. (what Zuko assumes he wants-- what they all want, immortality)

But Iroh’s like, why would I want that? it sounds like a curse, son. Why would I want to never see my son again?

He tells Zuko: we’re not meant to be alone

After Iroh passes a few years later, he tries to track down Aang but can’t find him. He, however, has dreams about the others.

alternatively///////// japanese zuko?????? RONIN ZUKO???? love it but im too tired to think of More Than That after typing all the chinese zuko stuff up, although im Sure a ton of it would cross over bc im vague as Hell

Aang

he’s the oldest of the group but you wouldn’t know it!!!!

Roku was his mentor, the first immortal that any of them know of. He’s thousands of years old when Aang meets him. (He’s also the first to die. He shows Aang that All Things Must Die)

Aang is Tibetan, a Buddhist monk, one of the earliest, maybe the 7th century?

He dies in a temple fire

here again my complete and utter lack of knowledge is Bad

according to Dzogchen, individuals can transform their body into an immortal rainbow light, so there’s some mention of immortality in certain parts of Tibetan Buddhist culture, but idk how widespread that is since wikipedia didnt even have a source for it

he becomes a missionary and travels around asia for decades before Roku finds him

Roku!!! he’s an Old Immortal, and probably wants to die a little bit at this point, and he eventually does!! but for awhile he and Aang travel around together, and butt heads a bit bc Aang’s pacifist nature, and Roku thinks Aang Will Change as he gets older

aang is absolutely devastated by the Mongol invasion of Tibet in the 13th century

roku dies about a hundred years after he meets aang, and aang travels around a little aimlessly for awhile, learning all kinds of things and befriending people he’ll outlive. it dampens his spirits a bit.

eventually he meets Zuko, who’s far more jaded than Roku was, even, and wants to be friends, but respects Zuko’s decision otherwise.

Eventually, aang travels with the Norse to Canada in the 15th century, but when they leave they don’t take him with them. Instead, he ends up frozen ala steve rogers. Katara and Sokka find him a few hundred years later.

alternatively////// Aang IS the newest kid. he’s the Nile of the group. He’s still a Tibetan monk, and views this as a teaching/learning opportunity. He would also probably like everyone to stop killing each other. Sokka rolls his eyes at him constantly.

Toph

toph is a struggle bc how do you deal with an IMMORTAL BLIND GIRL

I’m gonna stick w her show backstory: rich, blind daughter of a wealthy Chinese family

Is kidnapped and her throat is slit when she’s young (maybe an older teenager) and the kidnappers panic, leaving her body. She’s found, namely unharmed, and resumes life despite the fact she knows she died.

However, being a privileged young girl, she’s kept under watch and it quickly becomes known that she’s immortal.

She’s regarded as a living deity for centuries until she meets Suki, who rescues her from the place and teaches her to fight. (she becomes a myth, later, rather than a historical fact)

alternatively//////// she could have been first generation chinese-american, and therefore the youngest

Suki

Suki was a third generation female warrior of her family who guarded the boarder during the Northern Song Dynasty (960-1127), and trained from a young age in martial arts. (insp by the story of Mu Guiying)

She’s a war orphan, and leads an army of war widows and orphan women, but meets her untimely end with some of her sisters in a reign of arrows. She’s buried by some of her sisters before she wakes up again, and has to claw her way to the surface.

Her sisters don’t know how to react to her (a lot like Nile’s soldiers) so she eventually leaves them.

After her death, she hears rumors of a living goddess (Toph) and goes to see if there really is another person like her, and finds one of the people from her dreams (Toph)

She trains Toph to fight despite her being blind, and the pair become an unusual duo for a couple hundred years.

eventually, they start dreaming about a pair of siblings in the New World (not that new!! people live there!!) and book passage there in the 1800s with the first major wave of Chinese immigration

They dream about each other. it happens a lot at first, but it tapers out over the years. it grows stronger whenever a new one (katara) is born, but Katara and Sokka have NO desire to leave their homeland to go look for these strange people until they find Aang. (what languages might they have in common? russian??? the russians came to settle alaska, I know bc my stepmom is native alaskan and russian--- the Mongols invaded TIbet and Mongolia is right next to Russia, so Aang might know it??)

When they find Aang, Suki and Toph start dreaming of them again, and so does Zuko and they all start making their way to San Francisco. The Chinese wouldn’t arrive in Canada until around the 1850s (according to google) so Sokka probably wouldn’t speak any Chinese (mandarin???? i dont know things), but Zuko might speak some English or Russian. [really just gonna be a bunch of chinese, inuit, and tibetan people speaking russian to each other, isn’t it??]

Aang greets Zuko like an old friend, and Zuko Does Not know what to do with that. he’s skirtish and shy and hasn’t really been around a lot of friendly people. Sokka does NOT trust him. At all!! (he wants Katara to stay FAR AWAY from him. stick with the harmless monk we found at the bottom of a lake, katara.)

They find Suki and Toph in a bar. Toph hustling people for money, and Suki drinking at the bar. It’s very strange to have all of them around, and it’s like, 1830. they all decide they like each other, after they get some good old fashioned stabbing in-- Katara is the only woman Sokka has been around whos like him, and she’s like his little sister, and all he wants to do is Protect Her, so he doesn’t know what to do with women who known knives. (get his ass handed to him, thats what)

I want Zuko to be a broody mess but honestly he’d probably revert back to yelling at people/things in ancient Chinese (mandarin? I’m not really sure what period he’s from exactly). He’s still got that Good streak in him, esp since he’s like, a hundred years off his adopted uncle Iroh.

and you know what? 1830 america is NOT a cool place for anyone!! least of all asian immigrants, native americans, or women of either group

So the Gaang take to helping those people out any way they can. (Aang wants Peace, but you know white people, we don’t listen). They actively get involved in the underground railroad, eventually the civil war, and also helping out native americans, as well as chinese immigrants working on the railroads.

also so sorry I know the ask was about Zukka but I had to write a million words about their backstories first

Zuko + Sokka eventually come to a truce as the only dudes in this entire group who are willing to fight. Sokka is interested in both men and women, but he’s never really shared his life with anyone, and it’s the same for Zuko. Sokka, because he was regarded as an elder with his people, and after that he could only stay a few years. He had lovers, like Yue, but they all eventually died and Sokka couldn’t do anything about it!! Zuko, because while he also had lovers, he couldn’t really bear to be around humanity for a long time after what happened to him. (he’s vehemently opposed to slavery)

I think they get together at first just kind of because there isn’t really anyone else. Suki + Toph are kinda their own thing (are they lovers? sisters in arms? who knows), Katara is like Sokka’s sister (and if Zuko touches her Sokka will end his destiny permanently), and Aang is... aang.

It’s sorta a friends-with-benefits thing, except its an immortal warrior reluctant companions-with-benefits thing because can you really call this a friendship?? (its a family, eventually). Eventually it’s just kind of always been a thing. Sokka checking Zuko first when he comes back to life, counting down the second to make sure Zuko comes back at all. Zuko tells people he’s the only one allowed to kill Sokka, because lets be honest, the first couple of months with rowdy immortals meant killing each other a lot. When Sokka is killed violently in the Civil War, he wakes up half an hour later (slow, slow), to find a field of bodies and Zuko sitting next to him with his dao blades in the dirt, waiting for him. Sokka tries to make a joke, but it just makes Zuko mad, because what if that was the last time. (sokka jokes that he’s young, yet, not like Zuko)

They don’t really talk about it, partially because they don’t live in a world where it’s acceptable. What kind of title fits when you can only use it with 5 other people? But this time, when Zuko was afraid Sokka might not wake up, thirty years after they met, after lifetimes of being alone for both of them?? Sokka has to let Zuko know he loves him. Loves him!!! He’s not just here for the meantime.

thats all I have rn bc its 9pm and I’ve been writing this for like 3 hours. again if u wanna slide into my dms or if u have a discord and wanna talk about this/other stuff hmu. so sorry this got off topic.

also, the order I had them born in is:

roku --> aang --> Zuko --> suki --> toph --> sokka --> Katara

which may or may not be accurate to my timeline lol

Sokka probably speaks all of the Inuit languages, as well as French, English, and Russian, being alive for long enough to learn it all.

Katara refuses to learn French. Hates it. Never wants to learn.

She and Sokka personally keep Inuit traditions and languages alive as elders of their community, though it’s so much harder in modern times to stay connected to their culture bc they don’t age!!

disclaimer: bc the show was written as a complete mashup of several cultures I had to like..... pick where ppl were from. I picked china for Zuko/Suki/Toph bc they have a beautiful culture and a lot of dynasties I have heard a lot about recently while half watching the history channel. I really, really don’t know a lot about non-white culture as a white american from FLORIDA (so like, literally the farthest place you can get from the Inuit people and still be on the same continent). if you know more about these cultures than I do and I said something blatantly wrong pls let me know and I will change it.

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jemej3m · 4 years

Text

radio silence (chapter 1: misunderstandings)

twinyards week - day 1!!!! im going to be compiling these all in an ao3 fic at the end of the week, because they’ll all be the same au, and ((mostly)) in chronological order.

i hope u enjoy!

tw warning for child sexual and physical abuse, self harm, canon-typical violence, swearing, homophobia (aaron and andrew ((and nicky))’s backstories)

Ever since Andrew could remember—which was pretty much forever—he’d had an imaginary friend.

Well, sort of. His imaginary friend was a very distinct voice in his head called Aaron, who didn’t like his mother because she would always hit him, and leave him locked in his room whilst she went off with needles and men. Andrew was sometimes perplexed at how specific his imagination could be.

Aaron knew about Samuel, and James, and Harrison, because Andrew had told him, hidden away in a small, dark closet with his body shaking and aching. Why do they touch you? Aaron had asked, sounding upset. Probably because Andrew was upset, too.

I don’t know, his seven-year-old self had whimpered, lost and scared and alone. I don’t know.

Imaginary friends fell out of fashion pretty fast when Andrew finally went to school: Andrew Doe, the foster kid. Andrew Doe, the weirdo who talked to himself. Don’t go near the short one: He’s a freak.

He spent his time instead in the small, decrepit libraries that those schools had to offer, hiding in the corner with a book that was probably too hard for him to read but he didn’t care: He waddled through it, Aaron asking about what happened at the end of every chapter. He couldn’t read as well as Andrew could. Probably because he wasn’t real.

It was the realisation that Aaron was most certainly a detailed, intricate figure of Andrew’s imagination that forced him to stop talking to him. This lasted for years: The silence was almost echoey in Andrew’s head as he moved from home to home, none of them any good.

Until Cass.

She was warm and gentle. She baked him cookies and taught him how. Richard took him to the movies and drove him too and from school. They were the kindest people Andrew had ever met, and Andrew clung onto them fervently.

Then Drake, their son, came home. He was tall and broad shouldered and smiled like a wolf: He pinned Andrew down into the mattress and Andrew wished his pillows would just swallow him. Mornings were spent squirrelling away bloodied sheets and staring at himself in the mirror as hopeless tears rolled over young adolescent cheeks. Why me? He’d thought, desperate. Why me?

Andrew, Aaron said, astonished after all the years of radio silence. Is that you?

“You’re not real.” Andrew whispered. “You’re not real.”

Is something wrong? Something has to be wrong. Are you hurt?

Andrew ignored him in favour of finding the razor tucked under the spare face clothes in the sink’s spare drawer. When he climbed into the shower, he watched the water dilute his blood, and thought of the way that everything had a cost.

Officer Phil Higgins was an overbearing man who knew Andrew from a program for troubled kids within his area, where he gathered them all into a circle and forced them into bonding activities. Board games. Backyard baseball. ‘Buddy’ forming activities. Andrew was required to go, due to his ‘lacking social skills’, but he almost never participated. The pig never pushed him, never asked why he wore black long-sleeves in the middle of a Californian summer and never encroached on Andrew’s personal space, which was why Andrew continued to put up with the man’s antics.

The only actual conversation he and the pig ever had was when the man held Andrew back after one afternoon session, much to Andrew’s irritation.

“I went to a baseball game on the weekend,” he said, like it was something Andrew wanted to hear. “I met someone very interesting.”

Andrew stepped out of his space and made for the exit: When Phil said “Andrew, please listen,” he stood, the revolted shudder making the entire frame of his body tremble. He glanced over his shoulder for merely a second, but the officer took his chance. “I met a boy just like you. He looked identical to you. I think you might have been separated in the system at birth. His name is Aaron.”

That was enough for Andrew, who sprinted away from Phil’s curious gaze. In a brief lapse of control, he silently yelled at Aaron: You’re real?

Yes. Are you?

Yes, Andrew thought, devastated.

I met a police officer, today. He said that you’re real, Andrew. That you’re here, in California. Are you? Can I see you?

Fuck off, Andrew snarled, wishing he could run away from the voice inside his own fucking head. He didn’t want Aaron anywhere near the Spear family, with Cass’s gentle hugs and Richard’s genuine laughs. He didn’t want Aaron near Drake’s malicious intentions, facing the same fate that Andrew did every night. Fuck off, don’t talk to me, don’t come near me.

Andrew—

Andrew shut himself inside his bedroom and made a feral snarling noise, wishing he could cut Aaron out of his head. Rain splattered carelessly against the small window of the bathroom, so uncharacteristic of California’s sunny skies and relentless cheer that he had to look away.

Everything was wrong. Everything was so wrong.

It wasn’t until the pig himself came over and explained to Cass and Richard what had happened that Andrew decided to do something preventative: From the hallway, Drake grinned, fisting a tuft of Andrew’s hair in his too-tight grasp.

“We’ll have so much fun together,” He whispered against the shell of Andrew’s ear. “The three of us. Won’t that be exciting?”

That night, Andrew crept out with a flask of gasoline from Richard’s shed and a box of matches before Drake could sneak his way into Andrew’s room, walking to his school under the veneer of darkness.

He watched the baseball pitch burn, sitting in the batter’s cage and letting the heat lick his sweat from his skin. When the police arrived he went gladly.

“Don’t let there be any more kids,” Andrew insisted as he was being shoved into a cruiser. Phil Higgins looked at him, perplexed. “Promise me that there won’t be anymore.”

“Andrew, what are you talking about?”

It was useless. He burrowed into the corner of the police car and let the cool metal of his handcuffs around his bloody wrists draw him out of his head.

He did it for Aaron. He did it for the voice in his head, who could be real after all.

If that didn’t make him insane, he didn’t know what did.

The first time Andrew and Aaron met—in the parking lot of the Seattle Juvenile Detention Facility—they’d just stared at each other. Their mother had been too sick to come all the way to greet him, something about a chronic illness that probably wasn’t very chronic. Instead Luther and Maria, and their squirrelly son Nicholas, welcomed Andrew with open arms.

“We’re very glad to have you,” Luther said.

“Let’s go home,” Maria insisted.

They sat in the back of the rental car, venturing back to the airport with Nicky sitting purposefully between the two brothers. Forever an ice-breaker.

Andrew? Aaron asked, hesitantly. Andrew looked out the window. Please—I just want to know if I’m actually insane or not.

I hate that word, Andrew said, scathingly. Aaron looked down to where his hands were entangled in his lap.

Sorry, he said, and actually sounded like he meant it. He was kinda pathetic. Andrew finally looked around Nicky at his brother, who caught his eye. Aaron was littered with bruises and sickly pale, even if he tried to cover it up with his loose polo shirt.

Does she hurt you? Andrew asked.

Andrew—

I asked you a fucking question.

Slowly, Aaron nodded. Andrew settled back into his chair and glared at the seat in front of him, Maria’s tangle of curls peeking through the gap between the chair’s headrest and body, wondering what kind of woman Tilda Minyard would be, to give up one son and not the other, and then treat the one she had like shit. Ideas wafted across the empty expanse of his mind, forcefully blank to avoid exploitation.

That was fine. Andrew would cross that bridge when he came to it.

“No.” Andrew said. It was the first time Andrew had ever spoken to Luther, six months since being initiated into the Minyard-Hemmick household. He’d spent that time convincing Aaron of his plan to get rid of their biological mother, who continued to hit Aaron even when Andrew warned her not to. Aaron didn’t want his mother to die.

(She’s family, Andrew, he’d said silently. She’s family. Andrew had just looked at him and reminded him that he was family, and that they had always been there for each other, and that there was no way he’d leave Aaron now.)

“No?” Luther inquired. “But Cass and Richard would love to see you. They were very shocked when you were arrested. They’d wanted to adopt you, Andrew.”

“No.” Andrew insisted, voice hoarse. “You do not let them anywhere near Aaron.”

Luther still wasn’t sold. “Why not?”

“Drake - he -” Raped me. Because someone always was.

Luther’s smile was beseeching and patronising, and drained every last rivulet of energy from within Andrew, who was exhausted and angry at the world. He’d just found his family - why was fate so insistent on tearing it away from him again?

“I’m sure it was just a misunderstanding, Andrew.”

Misunderstanding. Misunderstanding. Misunderstanding.

Right. Of course.

Andrew turned on his heel and marched out of Luther’s perfect little living room, where he was sat on the white linen couches with a cup of tea and his little wooden cross on the mantelpiece. By the time Andrew had grabbed his coat from the Hemmick’s pristine entrance corridor and ignored Maria’s inquiry about staying for dinner, the plan was already in place.

People always underestimated the lengths to which Andrew would go to protect what little family he had: He supposed that lack of insight about Andrew’s limits would come in handy when orchestrating everything under their noses. The only person who knew him, really, was Aaron, but he spent most of his time hooked up on their mother’s shit to read whatever Andrew was up to now.

Andrew would kill Tilda. Nicky would come back from Germany. Luther would forget all about the Spears, and Aaron would be safe.

Perfect.

twin telepathy!!!

(is dark rn im sorry but i promise we’ll get through all the canon stuff and then explore their relationship post-canon and get to that SWEET SWEET DOMESTICITY, i promise anon :ppp )

#twinyards #telepathy au #they can talk to each other silently!!! wooo!!!#andrew minyard #aaron minyard #nicky hemmick #dr*ke spear #yuck #back story #day 1 prompt: misunderstandings #all for the game #the foxhole court #jem writes

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big-bad-skull-boss · 5 years

Text

Date Night

(music for this fic is here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xyj0Mq-YdUY)

youtube

You looked down at your phone and unlocked it. Your eyes strained at the bright light that they hadn't seen in a while. It was a mild, windy late evening and as you stood under the tree shielding you from the slight drizzle you were waiting for Guzma to show. He had been pressuring you to meet up again after the fight you had over you needing a break for your own mental health. You enjoyed being around Team Skull in the mansion but the constant loud music and disruption made it hard to sleep or even concentrate. Most nights you would be woken up by a grunt making noise. As you scrolled through your texts, you read out the last conversation you both had had in preparation for this "reunion" (Guzma's words, not yours).

Babe

Babe you there

# yea what

I wanna see u

# it's been like two days. I'm not going to the mansion with the amount of noise your grunts make

# it's why I left, remember?

I made Plumes take em all out lookin for pokemon

I made sure shes gon stay out till like at least 2 and their body clocks are fucked at that age so when they come back they all gon fall straight asleep babe

Please i wanna see u

# hhh fine as long as theres no dumb fuckery like last time

# slippery slope, bitch

# slippery slope

There aint

Like I said they all gone we have the whole place to ourselves so if u come around early we can do dinner and shit and then uh

U know

;)

Your face softened into a low grin as you breathed out through your nose. You'd read those last texts at least a dozen times that day and it still got you. That's why you loved him. Despite his lack of skill in communicating his feelings, you still couldn't be mad at him for long. Plus him being a bumbling idiot at times, especially when he was trying to be soft, was so endearing and cute, no matter how much he denied it when you brought it up to him.

You glanced back down at your phone.

# omg Guzma you fucking dope

:))

# what time you wanna meet?

I'll come get u from under the big tree on route 16 at half 8

I'll get u something nice too

# omg you're really trying aren't you lol

# see you there, then

# x

You read the timestamp on the message he sent last:

Read: 12:27pm

"I hope he hasn't forgotten... His memory is shocking sometimes..."

The light rain had started to pick up a bit. It was now audible on the wide leaves of the palm trees around the area and it had begun to seep through the smaller leaves of the tree you were under. There goes any hope of not getting soaked. You glanced back down at your phone and shot a quick look at the time.

8:27pm.

You opened the keyboard:

# Ayo where are you? I'm here and I'm getting wet

...

No response.

# bruh

You checked the clock in the corner of your screen again.

8:30pm

The rain was steadily dripping down from most of the tree cover. It was enough that a branch had bowed under the weight of water and a quick torrent of cold rainwater spilled directly onto your head and phone.

You stood there and comically stared straight forward as if you were looking into a camera to break the fourth wall in a sitcom. A large gust of wind swept up just as you clicked back to reality and all the trees on Route 16 swayed.

Shit.

You looked up as a large volume of water gushed right down on top of you, soaking you straight through in a matter of about a second. You felt it roll down your chest and back because it had infiltrated your hoodie's head hole.

Now you were getting annoyed. You debated crying but you were wet enough already thanks to the now stormy weather conditions that were almost as if Thunderus and Tornadus themselves were fighting right above you.

You pulled out your phone from your hoodie pocket. Wet, of course. The screen was awash with red, green and blue smudges because of the damp insides of your pockets. You rubbed the screen between your thighs as that was the only dry place left to do so.

# Guzma the fuck are you doing I am SOAKED rn

…

Oh fuck sorry i didn't see the time babe im omw

Fucking finally. You took one last look at the time. It was 8:35 and your battery was on 14%.

Great. You forgot your charger at your mom's house where you were staying for the week.

Two whole islands away.

KRSHHHHCUNK

Your thoughts were cut short when you heard the familiar sound of the Po Town main gate slide open, albeit in a much faster, rushed fashion than usual.

By this point you had slumped down onto the floor at the very base of the big oak tree you were being betrayed by since there was one tiny spot you could see there was no rain seeping through.

You heard squelching footsteps coming your direction at a speed comparable to a Rapidash. Oh. There he was. At last.

You could barely see 10ft in front of you because of the rain but you made out a tall white and black figure moving about through the storm.

"YO BABE WHERE YOU AT" it yelled in a low, but sharp tone.

You felt so cold that your teeth had begun to chatter. You weren't getting any good words out like this, so you pulled your phone out once again and repeatedly pressed the torch icon, creating a strobe with your nearly dead device.

Yup. He saw that.

The blur ran towards you. Now you could make out that it was indeed Guzma.

You sat on the floor, staring up at him. You were hunched into a ball, almost. To Guzma, you looked like a defenceless Caterpie. You were so cold that all you could muster was a small "m-mmm-mm" under your breath. The sound was broken up by your chattering teeth and your now quite intense shivering.

As tears pricked in the corners of your eyes, your vision began to blur. This wasn't the rain anymore. You hadn't realized it until that moment, but you'd started crying heavily. It was a mix of your stress and anger but his presence was making everything seem ok.

As soon as he realised the state you were in, he pulled out a scrunched up jacket from under the one he was wearing, stood over you, protecting you from the downpour and pulled your hoodie and shirt off. Guzma quickly wrapped you in the jacket and then pulled you up before wrapping you in his arms and making a swift (or at least as swift as possible while trying to usher along another person who can barely take decently sized steps) move towards Po Town.

No words were said. You couldn't say anything and you were almost in shock due to the cold while Guzma was focused solely on getting you to the mansion. He thought that his night was already ruined and it was all his fault. As you walked together, he rested his head on your shoulder in an attempt to let you know that everything was ok and that he was sorry. You knew that, and it was comforting to you, but all you could focus on was how cold you were. At least this was helping with warming you up.

The next few minutes were a blur to you. You were on the cusp of passing out and you felt like you were at death's front door. You told yourself not to be so dramatic, though your jaw and your midsection hurt from shivering so much.

Guzma kicked open the double doors preceding the mansion. You noticed how clean it looked but you hadn't the energy to even look around.

You felt a surge of powerlessness wash over and you and your legs gave up. You stumbled forward and since Guzma wasn't expecting it, you slipped from his grip and towards the floor. Your head narrowly avoided hitting the arm of an upholstered chair on the way down but just as quickly had you fallen had the man picked you up and flung you over his right shoulder.

"Shit, you ok?" He said softly, trying to hide the worry in his inflection.

#i was in a mood last night so i started this for like no reason #guzma x reader #pokemon #pokemon sun and moon #guzma #and yea the reader's gender is kept ambiguous which happened a bit by accident hah #fic #sfw #fluff #team skull

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spacephant0m · 5 years

Text

cw for personal talk about religion/spirituality and trying to find myself. Srry for typos

I’m in my room on the verge of tears and switching between crying and having a blank stare, watching brendon’s livestream on my ipad while i type this. I’m trying to study witchcraft to some extent as I’ve never really read much of anything about it before. Specifically I was reading about christian witches. Now the thing is like, i grew up as a christian. And nowadays i still believe in God definitely, but i hate christian practices. I remember reading and studying world religions in college last year and absolutely loving it and being so sad because i never experienced such practices in my own faith that actually seemed..... like, fun, and super connective. Me bawling my eyes out at church camp and being “lost” was not exactly what i originally thought it was. I was just mentally ill and didnt know it. Deep down i always knew i had a connection with God that wasnt faltering over silly shit a kid does wrong. Kid sins. Whatever the fuck. As much as i fucken prayed and asked for forgiveness, i was fine. Christianity is always a race to be closer to God and its like.... how close can i get when im doing the same fucking exact practices over and over.... they never really taught us about meditation and becoming one with your surroundings and idk, letting your spirit free. They kind of talked about it sometimes.

But i just hate the entire setup of church. I miss the family aspect so much. Thats all i miss. I miss bible study but really i just miss the points where we talked about life. Thats usually what we did, we would have an entire lesson setup and it would become totally derailed by our conversations. And it was real and i had a sense of community that i cant get anywhere else. I havent been able to find it anywhere else. But i also miss my personal sense of spirituality. I love that word and i love that it has so many encapsulating meanings. I dont wanna be like a white man self acclaimed guru who’s like read this book it’ll help you change your life....... i feel like those guys really appropriate culture and commercialize it. Its kinda gross. I try not to associate myself with that idea but every time i think about meditating more and shit im like “ew im gonna be a gross white guy whos all at peace w himself and lives in the mountains and shit” AND IT MAKES ME MAD. I’m having a beer right now instead of a cup of tea. Probably a mistake. Tea helps me feel better but im filling my body w shit at the moment bc thats what happens when i get this sad.

Anyways i really hate the idea of practicing a religion. I made a post before asking for sort of an advice on this, like was it okay for me to like witchy things and not actually be one. I was told yes its totally okay. And im not disrespectful of anyone and i dont make fun of any religion. I just persoaally cannot see myself involved with having an actual religion. I dont even consider myself christian so how could i ever proclaim myself as a christian witch, idk.

I dont want to label myself at all. Maybe i dont need any of this. Maybe i just need to play dnd and live vicariously thru my character. Use that shit as therapy. I hear it helps a lot with mental health and social skills. That of which i am verily lacking. I’m just hurting and im pissed off. I dont know why exactly. I just want to do meditation and i wanna buy my crystals and start doing yoga again. This year i have been stretching more. Actually i started on the first of feb. i stretch every day and do vocal exercises to help my voice get more control and deepen it a bit (transmasc).

I am also just a bit overwhelmed at everything. I dont know where to start. All i know is i want to burn incense like i used to growing up bc it always made me happy. And that i only believe in like..... cleansing through these elements and a prayer to God. But i’ve always had faith issues because im so insecure, i never think God will actually help me because maybe i dont deserve it or maybe he just doesnt want to.

I’m also scared im gonna do something wrong or fuck something up. That something bad will happen or something because im dumb. I dont know if i could mix my own herbs that feel right to me, or if i should use a recipe. I feel stupid that i dont have as much faith in prayer as i wish i did, but i have faith that little rocks will help to cleanse negative energy and things like that.

I dont know why im crying, i guess because im so insecure? Or maybe life is just rly hard and i’m overthinking everything. I just feel kinda bad. Yet when my friends tell me theyre praying for me, i do have faith in that and it means the world to me.

I know none of this is a big deal to anyone, and maybe none of it should matter. But im like. Idk. Im very interested in plants and medicines of the earth and shit like i always have been ever since i was young i thought of myself as like. Awakened and shit LOL whatever that means @ 10 year old me. I dont want to feel like anything controls me or owns me, i want to feel like i am in control of my own life and that i could harness the energy around me to not only like bring me peace of mind but to help me through my journey of life.

But i guess my biggest issue is i have no fuckin clue where to start. I hate reading and all this research im trying to do to help myself figure out what i enjoy is just. Making me so fucken overwhelmed. I only read like. 1 blog post and 2 articles and im already losing it. I always grew up w the mindset that God will take care of everything but like. He already has. In my mind. Because he’s already given us all the tools we need. But folks just like. Wanna be lazy and wait for things to happen. Sometimes all u can do is wait but when it comes to like, being THE ONES IN CONTROL, “prayers for america” is dumb as fck.

Idk i dont know anything and its okay to not know right now but i want something more in my life but i want it to be like.... totally personal and i dont want it to be absolutely everything my life revolves around. I want it to just be something i do and that i love. I dont need a label for it. But idk. I just dont know what to do.

If anyone has any sort of advice or is dealing with anything like this i’d love to hear about it. My ask and msgs are open as well. I feel pretty alone right now. Im just patiently waiting for my paycheck tomorrow so i can buy these crystals i rly want. But who knows what it will take to satisfy my hungry soul.

Another problem i rly have honestly is just like. Spending a lot of money on a lot of hobbies. I feel shitty for having so many things i enjoy doing. I try to narrow it down. I havent started embroidery bc i dont wanna spend more money and i feel like i’ll never have enough time to practice. Im just. Mediocre at a lot of things instead of rly super good at one thing. I mean i think im pretty great at drawing but thats about it. But ive been doing that for 10 years so ofc im good at it NOW. But ffs. I wanna do so many things and its overwhelming. I work a minimum wage job and its. I dont have enough money for anything lol so most of my stuff is low-budge† which is fine i guess but. Idk. Im tired. Im sad.

I dont know how to be more spiritual i dont know where to start. And my mind is telling me to slap a label on it or its not anything of value. Which is bullshit. But y’know. Anxiety n shit.

#witchcraft #witch #spirituality #religion #christian witch #meditation #blurb #finding myself #spiritual advice #religious advice #tryin not to cry again #removing labels #self help #i guess #personal #dandan speaks #idk what tags to use

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hogsteeth-archive · 6 years

Text

alright then i answered one of them oc questions things for both versions of ira bc like. why wouldnt i. first answer is 1976 58y/o rhodesian ira, second answer is 201x 16y/o houstonian ira. i just wanted to figure out how different they really are. questions from here. if readmores still dont work on mobile im sorry lmao

what are some things they have strong opinions about?

he has sort of a cioranian attitude to the value of life, like, hes one of them “theres always reason to kill a man, theres no way to justify his living” types. he doesnt believe in nationalism per se but he does believe in war, hes literally a mercenary, and hed probably get along just fine with someone like mike hoare, but hes not one for unnecessary cruelty. hes kind to who he considers innocent. if he was alive today i can see him getting grouped w/ like, anti-natalists, right-wing “primitivists,” people who browse /fo/, people who think theyll thrive in the post-apocalypse even though they cant even spin yarn, people who dont understand fallout, you know, those types, but i like to think his attitude wrt civ is closer to perlmans or, well, mine. its a good thing he doesnt live in internet times. he thinks technology makes people complacent and weak and hes fallen into the trap of the “noble savage” myth; sign of the times. he could just as easily live off the grid in like, alberta, but he chose to stay in southern africa bc of his colonial attitudes & fetishization of the “less developed.” (sidenote, if youre like, new here n reading this for some reason, yea i write like really really bad characters were talking irredeemably evil here, just like, know that im aware of that.) also he detests hippies for both bad and good reasons ⸻ not much, really, hes an opportunist, a hedonist, hes selfish, goes w/ the flow. he thinks denying yourself pleasure for no reason is microfascism — not in those words — and while he doesnt think that selfishness leads to a bettering of overall society, hes no randian, he feels justified in what he does. hes uh, a mercenary in spirit and ive always intended to have him join the marines n later work for a pmc but were nowhere near there yet

what traits do they like in other people? what traits do they not like?

he likes people (men, that is) that are exactly like him. he likes Narrator bc hes just as quiet, as patient, as stubborn, as antisocial (using that the right way here, i like, know about psychology), as violent, as old-timey-ly masculine as he is. he can tolerate clade (his former accountant) bc she keeps to herself and shes loyal to a fault, but he doesnt go out of his way to like, actually talk to her. he likes will bc he reminds him of what he was like as a child living with his matabele mother. ⸻ he hates everything he perceives as weakness, but hes not all that open about that, i think hes not even 100% aware thats what it is. he needs to be talked back to. he lacks compassion, doesnt know how to deal w/ anyone whos less resilient and abrasive than himself.

do they have a significant other? if so, who?

i mean, theres Narrator — thats kinda what this whole thing is about. but theyll never think of each other that way. its complicated. theyre uh… closer to being marlow and kurtz than to being boyfriends. idk how to explain it. its bad. ⸻ hes fake-dating millah for appearances and secretly seeing jack, im not sure about the details either so im not getting into that, but hes eventually gonna meet will; ive written their first encounter like ten different ways and i still dont really know what i wanna do w/ them........ also Complicated

whats their friend group like? what role do they play (leader, mom friend, etc.)?

he lives in a hut he built w/ his bare hands on the edge of the kalahari. his friends are one horse and one vaalboskat. ⸻ he uses his friends but they use him too. hes reasonably popular bc hes athletic n wealthy, but i think the only one of his friends who really truly sees thru his act is millah, and bc he doesnt take her seriously as a threat, she has more control over him than he realizes.

do they care about their physical appearance? whats their routine like?

nah ⸻ not really. he showers too often and his hairs kinda dry but other than that hes like. Normal. idk i dont care about these things

do they have any physical or mental disabilities?

i dont think so ⸻ he has adhd

what would they die for? kill for?

oh hes not picky. he joined the military at 17, hes made peace w/ the prospect of dying. hes been more uncomfortable w/ the thought of growing old, actually. and again, hes literally a mercenary. not a big deal to him. ⸻ i dont think hes selfless enough to die for anyone. hed kill to protect the people he cares about, but thats more just bc hes possessive. im sure thats gonna come up eventually. i cant really write shit w/o weaving murder in somewhere.

do they have any magical powers or abilities? if its a realistic world, what religion do they follow?

absolutely the fuck not i hate magic. hes not religious, actually feels a little intimidated by religion. in one version of his story he spends his 50s on east nusa tenggara where he doesnt live far from a church, and he makes peace w/ the concept of god thanks to the influence of catholic-raised Narrator, but i doubt hell ever actually step foot into a church, or temple, or mosque, or what-have-you. hes internalized some things during his upbringing though that he doesnt classify as religious. little superstitions. he likes to keep objects that may be used for divination around his house, but he never touches them. ⸻ not religious, but if he had to pick, like to pretend, hed say baptist.

do they celebrate any holidays? how do they celebrate?

nah ⸻ like, the regular american ones. hell welcome any excuse to drink and to socialize, and id say his favorite holiday is the 4th of july, really just bc he likes warm weather and theres not a lot else you can celebrate in the middle of summer. hes not attached to the significance of any holidays. hes not crazy about christmas but he likes his family well enough and hell go along w/ it all, just to have sth to do. hes not good w/ time off.

if they were the protagonist in any book series, what series would they choose? alternatively: what would be their favorite book?

he doesnt really read but hed feel right at home inside heart of darkness or maybe the thin red line. or maybe sth by mccarthy ⸻ hes 16 he hasnt read jack shit. i wanna say deleuze would probably resonate w/ him bc hes a total self-insert but i really dont know. i try to keep the intertextuality way low bc i hate that shit in most fiction, so like, i try not to think too much about other books here

do they have any vices?

uh he drinks and he occasionally smokes opium but compared to most of my characters hes pretty okay wrt that ⸻ yea like… all of them. already said hes a hedonist make of that what u will

do they play any instruments?

nope ⸻ violin but he hasnt been practicing a lot lately

what would their favorite ride at an amusement park be?

hes never been to one ⸻ i feel like hed be into sth really lame… like you know that video by jenny nicholson, top ten lame things to do at disney world? sth like that. like hed go just to get a specific food item or to admire the infrastructure

what animal would they say best represents them?

hyena 100%. the spotted kind. id say tortoise also but hed find that insulting ⸻ id say hyena but hed be reluctant to answer that bc hes a Youth and he knows what a furry is

how do they act when theyre drunk?

vulnerable. little more talkative. he talks to himself (or the cat, rather) sometimes ⸻ more abrasive/tactless/impulsive. he talks w/ his whole body and feels like moving/running bc, again, self-insert

which era of history would they most like to live in?

the old west, like early to mid-19th century, maybe late 18th. that or like the really olden days, like mid-paleolithic ⸻ idk maybe like ten or twenty years earlier. i think he fits the 21st century pretty well. hes a curious person though and if he had a time machine hed go Everywhere at least once

whats their favorite food?

ah thats. complicated actually i have a whole list of foods that remind me of Narrator but ive never gotten around to making one for ira. hm. he likes poultry, like ostrich. white fish. dry/salty foods. sour fruit. breadfruit. fatty dark meats, blood sausage. hes not picky though, hell live on pap and water if he has to. ⸻ i genuinely dont know. im not used to the contemporary western setting yet like… pop tarts exist in the same world as he does and im not comfortable w/ that yet. like, branded food articles wrapped in plastic. thats so weird to me. i guess he likes (american) pizza w/ greens on it, like spinach? and seafood. sour candies, maybe, i dont think he has much of a sweet tooth. he puts salt n butter on potatoes and cottage cheese on pancakes.

what songs remind you of them?

conveniently theres a whole playlist rite here

whats their favorite season and why?

dry season. he doesnt like cloudy/foggy weather bc it makes him feel trapped when he cant see as far. ⸻ summer. i honest to god think people liking cold weather is a conspiracy like im not sure thats even biologically possible. like summer is the obvious answer here

which d&d class would they play as?

nah we dont do nerd shit round these parts

whats their favorite expletive?

he like, barely talks ⸻ nothin weird thats for sure, we campaign for simple straight-forward language in this house. having a Favorite is inherently at odds w/ that. bad question

whats their favorite candle scent?

no scented candles in the desert ⸻ sth fruity but not sweet, like mixed berries, sth red or purple

how do they feel about death?

he doesnt ⸻ hed feel cheated by life if he died young. he has a lot to see and do and itd like, bum him out not to get to do that but hes not afraid of death

do they collect anything? whats their most prized possession?

he lives pretty austerely but he does keep little rocks and gems and bones and pieces of wood n such. also coins from all the countries hes been to bc hes a simple old man. i wanna say his most prized possession is his hogs tooth bc he does value the marines a lot still. its where he first met Narrator :-) ⸻ he really appreciates gifts people give him, things that remind him of people. jack carved him an eagle once

do they play any sports?

no ⸻ nothing too organized. i dont think hes on any school teams bc idk if he has the time but that might change. he does run/hunt/fish/shoot

what one place do they really want to visit and why?

he likes deserts, wide open spaces. hes been to the kalahari n namib but not the gobi/sahara/simpson etc, so, those. no ice deserts though those scare him ⸻ polynesia/southeast asia, just tropical places in general. bc theyre nice what do you want me to tell you. tropics good

what languages do they speak?

northern ndebele, afrikaans, english (w/ various influences), some vietnamese ⸻ english, some cajun french, some spanish

what are some items they always carry? what weapon do they favor using if they exist in a world where weapons are necessary?

hes got his fal obviously and he does always carry a knife, just to be safe. more out of habit than actual necessity (not to imply rural areas were safe in the late 70s, but he lives in the literal wilderness, hes not much of a target. stays away from roads and all that.) ⸻ man hes really not as classy as i want him to be :/ he probably has like, a glock 17 w/ ten thousand pointless modifications n some uglyass stipling pattern. hes a little bit paranoid + irresponsible n carries all kinds of shit he doesnt need, mostly way too much cash

which emoji would they use the most?

no ⸻ he doesnt have a phone, hell maybe use a burner if he has to. this is an anti-phone household

what fantasy race would they be? if they already are one, pick a different one.

absolutely not

do they want to start a family? if they already have one, describe it.

no ⸻ no

what stereotypical high school clique would they fit into?

hed swing between the jrotc kids n the stoners honestly, but still mostly keep to himself ⸻ hes like, too much of a jock for the Delinquents, too much of a Delinquent for the jocks. hes really only popular bc hes rich-ish n blessed w/ good looks, and by association w/ millah

whats one thing that they dont need do they waste the most money on?

he doesnt ⸻ everything. hes really wasteful. he buys more food than he can eat, clothes he never wears, etc etc, hes terrible

what kind of shoes do they wear?

combat boots or just traditional sandals. the terrain around his house is mostly grass and flat boulders so he goes barefoot a lot ⸻ regular tennis shoes, nothin too fashionable bc he cant be bothered to keep up w/ trends, but usually clean n new. hiking boots when hes not w/ his regular friend group

do they believe in ghosts, aliens, and the occult in general?

really dont like how aliens are always grouped in w/ esoteric shit bc like, thats like asking if you believe in atoms honestly. no shit “aliens” exist thats like not up for debate. both iræ would agree w/ me here. 70s ira doesnt believe in like, Ghosts per se, but he has some vague concept of spirits that he got from his mother. he sees/feels them when hes half asleep. ⸻ 2010s ira doesnt believe in jack shit

which deadly sin do they most correspond to? which heavenly virtue?

nooo cardinal sins dont work that way theyre not hogwarts houses. its so much more complicated than that thats impossible

if you had to choose one tarot card to represent them, what would it be?

hmmm four of swords? knight of coins? eight of cups? this is hard ⸻ seven of swords? nine of cups? the devil? i dont know

what do they consider to be their best quality? what actually is their best quality?

his strength, which is really just his callousness and lack of convictions. and uh. i guess his independence ⸻ same here for the first part. and. maybe his loyalty? i dont consider loyalty a good thing personally idk

what do they consider to be their worst quality? what actually is their worst quality?

his lack of social skills maybe? he doesnt need them too often of course but like, the first time Narrator showed up at his doorstep he was genuinely nervous and that did fill him w/ some semblance of shame and in his eyes he should be good at everything, so like. that. really its his lack of conviction and his timidness/avoidance of the world ⸻ his dependence on others/lack of discipline. really its his lack of compassion, like, obviously

#ira #ricky pwease come online

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betweenthetimeandsound · 3 years

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Three Minutes to Eternity: My ESC 250 (#200-191)

#200: Alice Babs -- Lilla stjärna (Sweden 1958)

“Lilla stjärna i det höga, svara mig, svara mig, Kommer han som jag ska få så kär?”

“Little star up above, answer me, answer me, Is he coming, the man that I will love?”

And so we begin the top 200 with an innocent and sweet number, and which resembles the best of 1950s Eurovision. I'm not a fan of the decade, because most of the songs are a bit too old-fashioned for my taste (especially since we have the beginnings of rock-n-roll outside the contest), but Lilla stjarna is one of the better soundtrack-like songs.

Before Sweden became the superpower in Eurovision we all know and love (or love to hate), they debuted with this dainty, beautiful song that was selected internally. There's a sense of longing in the lyrics, with the narrator hoping that their loved one would return. It’s definitely a fairytale, with that classical instrumentation and Alice’s innocent voice.

Personal ranking: 2nd/10 Actual ranking: 4th/10 in Hilversum

#199: Domenico Modugno -- Nel Blu Dipinto di Blu (Italy 1958)

“Penso che un sogno così non ritorni mai più Mi dipingevo le mani e la faccia di blu Poi d’improvviso venivo dal vento rapito E incominciavo a volare nel cielo infinito”

“I think such a dream will never come back I painted my hands and my face blue Then suddenly I was ravished by the wind And I started flying in the infinite sky”

The original classic from Eurovision, and the biggest hit of them all. It topped the Billboard charts in 1959, won two Grammys in the first-ever ceremony in 1959 (and still the only Italian-language song to do so), and is covered and over again to this day.

Considering the lack of attention most of the songs got in the first two contests, it's possible without Nel blu dipinto di blu's commercial success, we wouldn't have a Eurovision Song Contest to speak of. Or it would've been done for by 1960, haha.

Sometimes, I forget about this song when thinking about favorites, but when I listen to the intro, it starts bringing you into its little world, where I’m actually flying! The lyrics are quite cool and imaginative, adding to that feeling.

And of course, that "Volare..." is enough to keep people singing along!

Personal ranking: 1st/10 Actual ranking: 3rd/10 in Hilversum #Italywasrobbed

#198: Korni -- Moja Generacjia (Yugoslavia 1974)

“Mene majka moja rodi da sanjam o slobodi, U prvoj noći da čujem zveket, Da plačem sa rukom na usnama,”

“My mother gave me life to dream of freedom, The first night to hear gun sounds To cry with my hand on my lips”

World War II in Yugoslavia is not something I've learned about in depth. What I do know is that the Axis powers were able to take the whole country, and two major groups arose to collaborate with them. The Ustashas (Croatian nationalists) and Chetniks (Serbian nationalists) also both sought to destroy the other ethnic group and there was a bit of a mess all around.

(If you have any more information on this topic, let me know as I do want to learn)

Moja Generacija is a harrowing but powerful progressive rock song about those born during the Second World War, and their lives as a whole. I like the dark soundscape along with the instruments that accompanied it too. The orchestration at the chorus is especially noteworthy, because of the sweeping strings and the brass which highlight the times as a whole.

(And apparently, there's a seven-minute English-language cut, which makes it even more of a progressive rock song.)

Personal ranking: 3rd/17 Actual ranking: 12th/17 in Brighton

#197: Shiri Maimon -- HaSheket Shenishar (Israel 2005)

המבט אחר והקור חודר אתה מסתתר, את גופי שובר

“The glance is different and the cold is piercing You’re hiding, breaking my body”

Israel in the 2000s wasn't the best song-wise. I can only think of two songs that were really good in that period--of which this was one of them, which held Israel's best placing this century until Toy won three years ago. And it couldn't be anymore different from the song Israel would eventually win with.

Initially, I didn't get it, as it felt a bit derivative. Even now, it has offgrown me a bit because of pop ballad structure. But what I really liked was the smooth transition between Hebrew and English, along with how well Shiri sings it. She has a really sweet tone to her voice, which really helps in conveying the sorrow of being in love with a cheating partner and having to let go of it for her own happiness.

And that dress--it has to be one of my favorite performance outfits of all time!

Personal ranking: 4th/39 Actual ranking: 4th/24 GF in Kyiv

#196: Inga and Anush -- Jan Jan (Armenia 2009)

“Can't ya see, we aren't free?, Fixed like a tree to the holy ground, With my sound, gotta be always around, I wanna dance, don't ya stand, sister give your hand,”

"Sister, here we go!"

For a dance song, it's actually quite sedate--there isn't many moments of true boppiness, but there was something more "psychadelic" about the production and how it was put together. Either way, it works well all the same.

The sisters do a good job singing together, and I like the mix of ethno and dance music. Plus, their costumes are absolutely expensive and glamourous--I would like to wear them if I ever got the chance.

Also, for some reason, Azeris like to spam the comments on this song and claim that the Armenians "stole" their traditional clothing and music. Considering the two countries' proximity, I'm not so shocked about their similarities, but if Azeris would like to share a bit more of their ethnic music, it's always welcome!

Personal ranking: 8th/42 Actual ranking: 10th/25 GF in Moscow

#195: Sabina Babayeva -- When the Music Dies (Azerbaijan 2012)

“You, you are the best of me The reason that I believe, so don't leave me now...”

(Yes, Azerbaijan can send ethnic-influenced music. Hehe.)

Azerbaijan’s host entry when they brought the contest to Baku is a bit of a standard ballad, but with an ethnic twist. The use of balaban really highlights the melancholy of the song, and the mughum vocals pierces one's soul when performed.

I could feel how Sabina sings every word, pleading with her lover to stay with her despite it all. And that doesn’t begin to add with the beautiful LED dress, adding to the drama of the song as we see it in white, but it gets overlaid with sparks, shades of turquoise, and its final form with reds and oranges. That was a particularly beautiful moment.

A lot of fans believe this was the song that should've won it for Azerbaijan, and I can't disagree! This is a gem indeed.

Personal ranking: 6th/42 (a bit awkward here because I left out my runner-up of 2012 in this ranking, so amongst the songs here it's 5th/42) Actual ranking: 4th/26 GF in Baku

#194: Milestones -- Falter im Wind (Austria 1972)

“Tanz um die Lichter, Schmetterling, Deine Farben flammen auf, Tot ist die Nacht, in deinem Tanz, Ist das Leben hell wie Tag”,

“Dance around the lights, butterfly Your colours flame up The night is dead, in your dance Life is bright like the day”

My first forays on pre-1990s Eurovision was with the British blog, Lovelovepeacepeace. She would recap every year between 1968 and 2000, and 1972 was one of the years I went through the songs because of her. Coincidentally, I got to like Falter im Wind as much as she does.

It definitely fits with the hippy era, in terms of folk music and the general aesthetic. There's even a prominent (weird little) flute motif throughout. The lyrics talk about the life or a butterfly and how it shouldn't go to far into the sun. A bit strange, considering what most other songs are about, but it's a nice and gentle sentiment (with a message not unlike that of "Waterfalls", how strange).

Austria is not usually known for their highlights, but this is definitely one of their best (and a personal favorite of mine). Feel free to go an a road-trip playing this (though not with the studio cut--that's a bit slower)!

Personal ranking: 1st/18 Actual ranking: 5th/18 in Edinburgh

#193: Roger Bens -- Femme dans ses rêves aussi (France 1985)

“Mélodie, mélodrame, sourire et puis larmes Amoureuse ou sans âme, elle est d’abord femme...”

“Melody, melodrama, smile and then tears In love or without soul, first of all she’s woman”

ESC 1985 is notable not only because of a certain ripped-skirt incident, but also because they have a live album with the first eleven songs of the contest. Among these is the French entry, which has one of the best orchestrations of all-time, thanks to Michel Bernholc's arrangemnt.

(And because of that, it is my most-listened to song on Spotify)

The violins primarily make this song what it is—there are synths in the studio track, but don’t pack the same punch. The bass really provides some depth, and the brass at the bridge really sells the whole thing home.

The sense of drama in the song also includes the lyrics about being a woman and embracing her in all the ways. Despite the occasional eyebrow-raising and lip licking, Roger sings this with gusto.

To add to this, where is Roger Bens? This was the last known sighting of him and he is presumed to be dead.

Personal ranking: 3rd/19 Actual ranking: 10th/19 in Gothenburg

#192: Nina Zilli -- L'Amore È Femmina (Out Of Love) (Italy 2012)

“If you were my king, would I be your queen?, Stop breaking up my heart, you kill me – boom boom boom”

No, she's not Amy Winehouse resurrected for one night, but Nina Zilli! She also competed in Sanremo that year, and Emma (see #223) won it with the harsh but determined "Non è l'inferno".

Beyond the retro music and Nina's bouffant on the night, I didn't notice any similarities to Amy Winehouse. This doesn't mean "L'amore e femmina" have its own charms--it falls into the jazz theme that "Madness of Love" (#232) continues, but is the opposite in more than one way.

The English-Italian mix is a but clunky at times, especially in the choruses but it doesn’t take away from the attitude this song brings. I love the jazzy vibes and how Nina sings it with a sense of sassiness and charm. Her backing vocalists really help with conveying the mood, and don't do a bad job when the song goes back to Italian!

(As for the two Sanremo songs in question, I prefer Non è l'inferno to Per Sempre--the former is quite determined, and I really like the lyrics. Though I think the latter would have more appeal in terms of themes, even it's a bit more derivative musically)

Personal ranking: 5th/42 Actual ranking: 9th/26 GF in Baku

#191: Hovi Star -- Made of Stars (Israel 2016)

“Dance with me like we are made of stars...”

This is one of the first songs which got me into Eurovision. I would put this on repeat over and over again, because it's just so beautiful. (Or it was because it's Israeli, haha. Another country bias of mine will appear later.)

The first version of Made of Stars was a trashy and dull dance song, but the rework into a ballad makes it more magical. It’s serene yet touching, with a calming piano motif and a dramatic crescendo at the end.

The staging of Made of Stars also helps; while I'm still put off by the LED face when the backing vocalists sing "you hypontize me", everything else just works. The otherwise starry LEDs, the hoop dancers, and Hovi's glowing presence make this into a sweet, albeit overlooked package.

Personal ranking: 6th/42 Actual ranking: 14th/26 GF in Stockholm

#esc 250 #esc top 250 #esc sweden #esc italy #esc yugoslavia #esc israel #esc armenia #esc azerbaijan #esc austria #esc france #vintage eurovision #three minutes to eternity

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vernons-laugh-is-my-aesthet-blog · 7 years

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Memeteen guide to Seventeen

S.coups:

carats make fun of his stage name holding a couple s.coups of icecream and a S.cup of noodles

chicc

the poor man between jeongjicheol

papa coups

embarrasing dad

wings it at choreo sometimes

has 12 children

wants to c h o k e jeonghan

the type of dad that would challenge his 5 yr old child to a game of soccer and then gets too competitive and swerves that bitch to get goals

his smile and his smile alone gave one of Seventeen's stages a crap ton of views

say the name!

camel

piggy bank

beagle leader

“eyes look like 9:15″

eyelashes for ddaayyyysss

Everybody SCREAMM

fireworks are the only enemy

My EGG YOLK T-T

members rebel against him at times

someone save him

Jeonghan:

John-Oops I mean Jeonghan

Laying down is his preferred physical state

swindler

long hair majestic unicorn and short hair majestic prince. He majestic no matter what fam

"Joshua was the first one to approach me"

toucher of asses

shamelessly feeds off of members' love 24/7

Makes members have couple wallpaper and phone cases with him

"angel"

the mother of Seventeen

“Dino, nugu aegi?”

All members are under his spell

giraffe running

Jeonghan's warm cup of milk

sa-sa-say the name seventeen

Doubts OFD pds

bitter smile of betrayal

vernon crushed his balls once

athletic with no stamina

creator of the Carat mating call: *incoherent screaming*

Joshua:

Gentleman

fukn weeaboo

the b e s t freestyle rapper in Seventeen. Dont @ me

ded meme(?) "Jisoos Christ"

The 'normal one'-SIKE bitch

That poor waterbottle

When-one-of-the-members-wear-a-shirt-with-questionable-english-words-everyone-blames-me-lol guy

I pledge allegence to the flag of the united states of amerca and to the re-

dRinK WaTeR

pin drop and worm master +uncle dance

pingpong vlive

“EAT THIS” signature move

"over here"

The english teacher everyone wants and deserves

white cap

Chicken can heal the heart

L.A motherfuckerss

piggy bank

"Ïm part of vocal unit too! T-T"

Jun

Heechul's reincarnated body that was too early bc he aint ded lol

chinaline

child actor

nyeac nyeac

logos are out to get him

eyeroll king

punny and awkward

king of china

404 lines not found

My I now

"Ice ice froze." (that crazy in love Wonwoo lyric) moments

sexy expression

convinced he is the number one visual

shy vlives

proceeds to tell members to call him handsome in chinese

ofd positivity boy

Hoshi:

naega hosh + pose

What time is it? 10:10 bitches

‘ten hour ten minute’

shinee’s biggest fanboy

from soft 1 to hipthurst 100 real quick.

HAM HAM. HAMHAMHAMHAM

My name’s soonyoung call me soon

hamster cheeks

suffers with spicy food

beurora hurricane

Coco his chicken

his love for the angsty teen makne

"HEy MIDDLE"

glitter face

pretty u first win cry face

Mounteen

kwon fire

making dances out of things that inspire him; ex: crab, octopus, noodles, street lamp, backpack

kwon edward soonyoung

refuses to be bottom visual

rivalry with seungkwan and wonwoo

claps like a child

KWON SOONYOUNG FIGHTING *wakes up* 'YYEEEEAAAHHH"

Grandma

Wonwoo:

lowkey highkey loves his own visuals

beanie bro

garden fairy

voice so deep adele's rollin in it

"life is hamburger"

cheese burger aegyo

emo

let him sing fam

fukn nerddd

sick wonwoo days with the plushy

Tsundere™

make him an actor pls

got hit in the balls with a ball one time

nose crinkle

specs

lack of highfives

middle school’s dance machine

him vs. Hoshi in ofd japan

bag of luck

Woozi:

Smol bean that would kill for a single cornchip

Reminds me of a old grandpa teddy bear idk lol

Done with life, hates aegyo and human contact, but will accept it when he wants to

members mock his crying from pretty u first win every chance they get

if he does anything out of character they tease him about it till no end tbh

Suga's son

his need to grab and hit people when he laughs

guitar is his greatest weapon

ccrriinnggeee & finger ccurrlll

producer-nim

adore u is a funky pop song that has fun and fresh lyrics that match seventeen's age on top of an addictive melody

members exposing his ass in project svt

Dk:

the actual sun

built in speakers bc he loud as shit

sacrifices his beautiful face to make people laugh

smile that can cure all the worlds sickness

stop eating cds

woojoos_daddy

‘come to daddy’ tee

horsemin MAL

pigeon

GRILLED PPPORRKK

chicc

pure and goes along with jokes the best

heLL0 mY naMe Is LeE SeOkMIN my moTheR’S naMe Is

hightone rap

wat is basketball?

do it from your heart

Jeonghan's fool

mosquito

Happy birfthday broo

orange peel king

wow, unbeliebable

Grandpa

Two-teen

Mingyu:

MingEW and all his sneezin

flowercap boi

tol and clumsy

If Seventeen doesnt drop somethign, Mingyu certainly will

actually very organized and neat

Minghousewife

was a cheeto for a split second

proud father of OG BongBong

Mingyu sunbaenimmm

Seventeen cant live without their swiss army knife

Akita sound

oh. my. god. Oho My GOD

‘Your name is bob’

Where Is Your Tag???

squeals

"Seventeens official visual"

oooo000OOO yEAh

The8:

got7 bambam taught him how to dab and he never looked back since

thughao

IMMA

before: Yeah I'll have her home before 10 ^-^

now: she'll spend a night at my house ;)

nunchuuk daddy

404 no lines found pt.2

now My I

his predebut pictures are e p i c

side-eye king

arms for days

fashionista

rolled thin porkbelly hair

learns more korean to roast bitches

flipping is his preferred transportation

dirty dirty jamjam ^-^ *svt flipps out in cringe*

Kermit is his bitch

Seungkwan:

fresh baked buns bebe

divaboo

just put boo in any word and it gets 100 times better

supports AND hates aegyo

Beyonce who?

MCboo, talk talk talk.

"Thomas the train" omg rip XD

Vernon's number 1 fan

OHMYGOD JASMIN

cries in jeju accent

John?

Boonon, svts rapper

Oh Laaaddiieesss~~ this is your story

red

haunted house screaming

volleyball fanatic

kimbap kidding?

Crab walks away

Son of Jeju

fashTion

'13th visual' (fuk nah)

Im the BEST quality

Vernon:

child actor but never fukn talks about it

attempts vocal runs

looks confused most of the time

iconic rap lines "pull up on you wacks with a mac fuly loaded", “i'm only seventeen i only got a few dollars” "Chili Chicken in the microwave"

fortune cookie hair

headlines headlines ( HaJiMAaaaAa, dont mention smtm4)

his obsession with hotline bling

"speaks english, but forgets that one english word" (bilingual problems)

Person: h-

Vernon: I was born in america but moved to korea when I was five

Kidney function is not a right its a privilege

woke af

His mom is my bias

teeth

bubble pop

*slightly lifts glasses* 'ding'

sofia

Leonardo Dicaprio AND Leonardo Divinci

Dont take him fishing

stitch

Dat laugh tho

lotto

My favorite part of Seungkwan is-

Dino:

Michael Chanson

"Im growing!"

not Jeonghan's aegi

we will now forget mansae era duck ass hair

Diamond makne

“he’s going through puberty now”-Hoshi

a new born savage

Makne’s visual ranking

GloUp of the century

"michael jackson version"

bitter smile

loud laugh

*runs over hoshi's toes with scooter*

*scrolls through phone and half-heartedly says* I love you.

4K notes · View notes

mysplaced-pen · 6 years

Text

Sometimes Tea, Sometimes Coffee

Hi I hope you like this because I haven’t written for a really long time and ~creative blocks~ are g r e a t to have

Also I’m writing on my phone so forgive the shitty formatting lmfao

‘Hm.’ Jaehee thought absentmindedly. ‘I wonder if it’s possible for the human species to fall into extinction.’

Maybe if every human was as cognitively impaired (read: stupid) as this guy, it’d be possible.

Her eyes did not leave the man at the counter, who was fiddling with the spoons and – did that idiot just accidentally tear open another satchet of sugar?

Jaehee remained hidden behind the staff door, pinching the bridge of her nose in tired exasperation. “Jesus Christ,” she muttered, voice not too loud. “He didn’t die for our sins like this.”

Her coffee eyes widened, seeing Ams talking animatedly with the man in question. ‘No,’ she wanted to call out. ‘It’s not worth it, Ams.’

Jaehee shut her eyes tightly, trying to breathe patience into her body but breathing put irritance. Whatever. Whatever! She’d deal with that dumbass. But not now. Professionalism, professionalism…

Screw professionalism, she was the damn owner.

She took elegant strides, yet her shoulders were tensed. She remembered this, a familliar spite stoking her embers. She let it inject the very way her arms swayed, the controlled musculature of her facial movements, her steady breath, the deadly bitter smile that now graced her appearance.

Working under Jumin had it’s benefits. She learned patience, got intimate with it, and weaponized it occasionally.

And that’s why she stood in front of the counter, sweeping Ams behind her and asked, “May I take your order?”

The man smiled, and Jaehee was thankful she wore glasses. By the way he beamed, he was either very very excited to meet her, or he wanted to rival the sun.

“Jaehee! You’re here!”

Unfortunately, it was the former.

An arched brow. “You didn’t expect me to be present at my own shop?” She inspected the nametag buttoned above his breastpocket, which he also tucked in a polka-dotted tie sloppily. “Maybe that was expected for you, since it’s working hours and you’re not badgering your boss instead of me.”

He had the gall to be embarrassed. “I-it’s break time!” Then he lowered his eyes to the counter, unwilling to meet her offended, flat stare. “So I was hoping that we could grab lunch together? Isn’t it boring here—”

“No.”

“But it would still be a breath of fresh air—”

“Given how much you talk out of turn, I would be inhaling more carbon dioxide than anything.”

“Maybe we could grab coffee sometimes—”

“Where do you think we are?”

“Oh. Uhm. Is that a yes?”

“It’s a no.”

His shoulders sagged and he whined like a child. “Why not?”

“The same reason why I wonder you’re not giving up yet.”

“Oh!” He beamed once again. “Because I like you!”

“Because it’s a waste of time.” Hers, more appropriately.

“Come ooon!” His eyes flitted to the left, then right as if whispering something scandalous. “It’s not like you’re dating someone, right?”

Before she could respond, Ams interjected. “Excuse you,” her eyes narrowed, hostile. “Jaehee is a talented businesswoman who is caring, empathetic and she could have whoever guy – or girl – she likes. If she doesn’t like you, then that means it’s proof that you’re not valid enou—”

A cough sounded from behind the – now utterly rekt – man, and there was red hair and a familliar silver-white that peeked behind the man. “Can we have our order taken, please?” Saeyoung plastered his usual shit-eating grin, and Zen glared at the man who was stalling the line, malice imbued into his eyes.

:-:–:—:–:-:

707: Lmao what the diddly darn just happened today

Jaehee Kang: sigh

Jaehee Kang: I don’t know;; the usual persistent customer I guess.

Jumin Han: The “customer is always right” kind of person?

Zen: Wow that’s annoying

Ams: Nooooope

Ams: He’s been trying to get with Jaehee since last week

Jumin Han: He didn’t make an appointment?

707: it’s a coffee shop juju

707: you walk in

707: use pieces of paper that is actually worthless but are given value by the intersubjective entity called the government and purchase certain extracts from the earth that you grind to produce an adrenaline-inducing beverage that will eventually get you into a coma

707: and walk back out

Ams: what the fuck

Jaehee Kang: Saeyoung;;; I’m worried about you;;

707: you are? aaawww (u/w\u)

Ams: He’s trying to woo her Your Majesty Jumin Han

Jumin Han: Ah I see, thank you for explaining so politely

Ams: Saeyoung’s lack of mental stability aside, why is money worthless?

Jumin Han: I would also like to know.

Zen: Like you’d understand after having millions of it. Both of you two have dollar bills shoved too far up your asses and you end up vomiting shit

Jumin Han: On the contrary

Jumin Han: Even after vomiting shit as you say

Jumin Han: Everything that comes out of my mouth still is worth more than shit

Jumin Han: >:3c

707: gEt ReKt bOi

Jaehee Kang: Shut up Saeyoung

Jaehee Kang: You’re vomiting shit too.

707: Yes ma'am.

Ams: ….anyways

Ams: He’s a really persistent guy

Ams: He comes in every day without failure

Ams: (if you don’t take into account the fact that his “courtship period” is already a failure)

Zen: lmaoooo

Ams: And he tries to persuade jaejae to get lunch with her or something

Zen: I can’t say that’s too unreasonable

Zen: Because Jaehee is a beauty after all ^^

Jaehee Kang: Thank tpu

Jaehee Kang: Thank ypu

Jaehee Kang: Thank you

Ams: sigh

Ams: if only Jaehee had Yoosung’s face

707: don’t corrupt my mental image of my bro pls

Zen: -_-

Zen: yeah that’d be easier

Zen: Yoosung’s baby face would lessen the competition

Ams: Zen;;; //////

Jaehee Kang: ?

Zen: lololol sorry

Ams: OH DID YOU KNOW WHAT HE DARED TO SAY

Ams: He said something like “oh youre not dating anyone anyways” like hoW DARE HE

Ams: JAEHEE IS A GODDESS AND I WILL SCREAM IT OUT FROM THE TALLEST BUILDINGS

Jaehee Kang: ///// Ams;;;;;

707: gasp

707: bLaSpHeMy

Jumin Han: Saeyoung, stop talking like that

Zen: lololol

Jaehee Kang: I have to admit, I was offended as well.

Jaehee Kang: There was one instance where I wanted to show him a degree of humilliation worse than human beings

Jaehee Kang: But I resisted ^^

707: lolol why not get even? Be petty as much as you’d like

Jaehee Kang: Hmm….

Jaehee Kang: I’d like to.

Ams: I’m on board with this plan

Ams: What do you have in mind?

Zen: As a guy, I’d bet a really embarassing mistake would make him stop or give up at least

707: I can pretend to be Mary Vanderwood and be your girlfriend, jaejae~

Jaehee Kang: No thank you.

Jaehee Kang: But that does give me an idea.

Jaehee Kang: Ams

Ams: ?

Jaehee Kang: From tomorrow onwards, would you mind pretending to be my fake girlfriend?

Ams: w h a t

Jumin Han: Does everyone type like that nowadays? I’ll have to look that up.

Ams: of course I don’t!!!

Zen: of course she wouldn’t

Zen: ;)

Ams: ZEN;;;;

Ams: I’d like to help you in getting rid of a pest as well, for the cafe too ^^

707: she means getting rid of a rival

Jaehee Kang: ?

Ams: ignore him

Ams: We’ll start tomorrow, you don’t need to give me a story or anything, I’ll make it up on the spot ^^

Jaehee Kang: Okay ^^

Jumin Han: You seem very enthusiastic about this.

Jaehee Kang: Well she’s my best friend

Zen: Turned pseudo-girlfriend

Jaehee Kang: Yeah that as well

Jaehee Kang: Her kindness isn’t something that surprises me, yet I find myself awestruck everytime ^^

Ams: nrjdmrekdde

Jaehee Kang: ? Are you alright?

Ams: yeah im dandy

Ams: ihavetosleepnowgoodnight

—Ams has left the chatroom—

Jaehee Kang: Well that’s my cue as well

Jaehee Kang: Goodnight everyone ^^

—Jaehee Kang has left the chatroom—

Jaehee slept soundly that night.

:-:–:—:–:-:

The dense man’s eyes bugged out. “You-you’re lesbian?”

“I’d prefer to swing any other way than yours, so yes. I’ll leave it at that.” Jaehee’s voice was mint, her words succint and well-phrased, her giddiness only showing in the drumming of her fingers against the marble counter.

The man looked dejected, then he shook his head, as if rejecting what he was told. “I thought you were straight?”

“If that’s where your thought process led you to, I doubt it barely existed in the first place. ”

The man looked like he wanted to cry, and for good reason. Jaehee had kind of, not-so-subtly unleashed weeks up pent-up stress in the art form of trash-talking, which she’d mastered throughout her career as Jumin Han’s underling. She’d learn from the best of the best.

“Now if you’d excuse me, I’d like to return to work–” her words were cut off when she felt a steel grip on her wrist that made her wince. “You-you’re just confused! You don’t know what you’re doing!” He stumbled over his own words, bricks that would crash down on him soon.

“Oh, I know what she’s doing. Me, to be specific.” At the snide voice, Jaehee’s eyes turned to it, hope ghosting up her skin.

Ams’ eyes glared daggers at the hand gripping Jaehee’s, as if the very sight was offensive to her eyes. Walking over she unpried his hand, that remained paralysed, like a thief caught in the act.

Ams fingers skirted over Jaehee’s wrist, thankful that his hand left no visible marks. Then she turned to the man, voice blank and careful, but never impolite.

“ ‘Don’t know what she’s doing’? This woman has stood on her own feet ever since she had to. She didn’t waste her time on chasing away pipe-dreams, but chose to realize them on her own efforts.”

There was a flutter in her chest, unidentified but not unwelcome. The beating of her heart followed an odd rhythm, and it danced to a different tune she had never heard of before.

“She’s independent, wonderful, intelligent, caring, loving, and probably every other adjective synonymous to her being an angel. She’s thoughtful, so her every word can be measured up against you, and you’ll find yourself regretting even speaking. If you still insist on your ignorance, I’ll pardon us on her behalf.”

Not once did her voice lilted into smugness, only frustration. Ams slipped her hand into Jaehee’s, and left the man bewildered, eyes of other patrons boring into him.

:-:–:—:–:-:

“You had the chance to spew out every insult imaginable. Why didn’t you?”

Ams looked contemplative, fingers tapping a staccato. “I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

Jaehee raised a puzzled brow. “Why would I be disappointed?”

Ams only smiled meekly, then stood up to go out to the counter, probably making drinks. Coffee eyes drooped, enjoying the calm clatter of spoons and glasses.

After a few minutes, she returned, two glasses of – what didn’t smell like coffee – drinks in her hands, and she set both glasses on a small foldable table they’d use for snacks.

Ams sipped the brew tentatively, then spoke: “I felt like…I’d have to cross a line I didn’t want to if I did what I really wanted to do at that moment.”

Jaehee tilted her head. “What do you mean?”

“If I said everything I wanted to say, I wouldn’t have done it to protect your name. I’d have done it because I wanted to.” Ams let her glass clink against the table, and then folded her hands into herself, reserved.

“There was no reason for me to act the way I wanted to act, even if it was reasonable. You out of all people should know that, shouldn’t you?”

Jaehee blinked. That’s right. She had every right to scream, to cry, to blame others. But…she didn’t do any of that. Instead, she soldiered on forward, mouth shut without saying anything. How many unshed tears, she wondered, that would take her to this moment in time?

The tears that fell soon after passed her realisation, had Ams not pressed tissues to her cheeks, standing up and hugging her from the back. “It’s okay,” her voice was small, but she could feel the vibrations on her back, like guitar strings being strummed. Her ears were filled with static-like silence. “You can be selfish this time.”

Jaehee’s hands twirled along the rim of her glass, the unknown but familliar smell hitting her senses. “Ah,” Ams suddenly said, eyes twinkling. “It’s tea. I thought the brief change would be refreshing for once. What do you think?”

Hesitantly, she lifted the glass of tea to her mouth, and her lips curled in surprised delight.

Her eyes shut, and there was another unidentified emotion, accompanied by a breeze of bliss.

:-:–:—:–:-:

Jaehee Kang: Zen

Zen: ?

Jaehee Kang: This is a sudden question, but have you ever considered that acting wasn’t your passion?

Zen: Hmm…

Zen: Yeah. To be honest, I really wanted to chase my childhood dreams before doing the acting full-time, you know?

Zen: Like…being a food artist! Or an adventurer! Or a scientist!

Jaehee Kang: Oh

Jaehee Kang: Have you ever thought that you’d find something better than acting?

Jaehee Kang: For example

Jaehee Kang: I love coffee, but recently I’ve grown to like tea more

Zen: Isn’t that fine? You won’t know something is better if you haven’t tried ^^

Jaehee Kang: But what if it’s worse?

Zen: I think the idea of being happy with something is to delight yourself in it when you can and be complain when you have to

Zen: If you worry over what-ifs, chances will fly over quickly~

Zen: If it makes you happy without a doubt, then you’ll know it was a good choice ^^

Jaehee Kang: I….

Jaehee Kang: Thank you for parting your wisdom with me.

Zen: lmao not really, but I’m happy to help my friends ^^

Jaehee Kang: Well then, I’ll be going to sleep now

Jaehee Kang: Good night, and thank you again ^^

:-:–:—:–:-:

“Today was a good day as well, and the guy from before didn’t even show up!” Ams turned to look at Jaehee, before grinning. “Isn’t that great?”

“Yeah, it is…” Jaehee avoided her eyes, feeling her face warm up. Ever since yesterday, she’s been feeling odd around Ams, and even looking at her warms her face and carves an unwilling smile.

No. She already knew what she was feeling. It poured into her pores gradually, and when she had noticed, it grew to become what it was right now. Love.

“Jaejae? Is there something wrong? Your face looks hot.” Ams tilted her head, eyes glossed by concern.

“Nothing wrong, nothing at all,” she tried to dismiss, which of course was dismissed by Ams. “Don’t lie, do you have something to say? You know you can say anything, right?”

I love you. I love you. I love you so much and I didn’t even realise it.

Jaehee wanted to belt out the words as fluently as Zen would, as honest as Jumin would, as careless as Yoosung would, as gentle as Saeyoung would. But she was Jaehee, she was herself, and she was bad at expressing how she felt due to certain parts of her life.

“Um,” she tried to say, mumbling and thinking, her words like books that had been stacked and crashed down.

She looked for the right words.

“Can we talk about over tea?”

She wouldn’t know it was the right one, at least not after “I do” at the wedding hall.

:-:–:—:–:-:

Hewwo I love Jaehee with all my heart and I hope my characterization of her was good enough lmfao I /a p o l o g i s e/

Anyways I also love ams aka she’s amazing aka jamen is my ot3 even though I couldn’t slip in Zen in there ripperoni pepperoni

I hope you liked it ahah;;; I TRIED MY BEST AND WAS VERY PROUD OF THE DIALOGUE AT LEAST

—Yuu

yuu this is t h e cu test t hin g and i love you :’)))))

#submission #thIS IS SO CUTE IM D YIN GGGGGGGGGGG #lonelywalkingpotato #ams gets an answer #fics #fics for ams?!?#jaehee kang #uhhhhh #the wife #long post

20 notes · View notes

fieryfafarfanfics · 7 years

Text

The Dim Sunshine

HAAAAAAPPY belated BIRTHDAY @asthenicia !!!!! of course im always late with my gifts coz of who i am as a person lmao I WISH YOU HAPPINESS AND PROSPERITY IN YOUR LIFE!! thank you for being my friend and for filling my life with smiles and laughter. may one day we get to meet so i can squish u to death with my hugs. xoxo lov u :3c

Once upon a time, there was a happy family. There was a jolly man, though his bliss was a creepy contrast to his love for death. He smiled often, laughed daily, always inflicted joy and caution wherever he stood. His skill for dark magic was unlike any other. His love for the undead and all that was unholy struck fear even in the boldest. He was quite a frail man, but his lack of strength was compensated by his terrible talent of the otherworldly. He held love for many things, both disgusting and disturbing, but there was one where he held the highest form of love. There was a breath-taking woman, though her love for dancing contradicted terribly with her crippling stage fright. She blushed often, stuttered daily, always instilled amusement and serenity in her presence. Her skill for dancing was unlike any other. Her skill in battling struck bafflement and awe to enemies and allies alike. Despite the immense talent, her love for performance, her love for entertaining people remained true to her heart. She was a beautiful woman. A dazzling dancer. Even with her timid personality, she never shied away from danger or person’s call for help. Her heart, just as her face, was as angelic as her. She held love for many things, and was loved by everyone else. But, in the end, her pure heart fell madly in love with the man whose heart could no longer be considered human. However, just as she had fallen in love with him, the man soon realized that he too had a heart as well – that he too had a chance to obtain the happiness he so long had given up.

--- In love they found it in themselves. In happiness they achieved by being with each other. His smile and laughter became more genuine. Her smile and laughter became even lovelier. As the years go by in the war, they stuck by each other, were there for one another. As he once warned her, his love truly was terrifying, baffling, sometimes suffocating even. He didn’t wish to let her go. He didn’t wish to let this glint of happiness to slither out of his grasp. He loved her so much, too much, that even the mere thought of living a life without her left him choking for air. She knew this about him. She knew about his troubled past. She knew their relationship would have obstacles and challenges, even if some of them did come from himself. She knew he was passionate, horrifyingly passionate, and he would anything in his power to keep her close to him – even if it meant taking their lives together. She knew. She knew about all this and it would be blatant lie to say if she wasn’t terrified in the least. And yet, she stayed by his side and loved him sincerely. She knew he loved her, truly and honestly. She knew he tried his best to make her happy just as how she gave life and joy in his once miserable life. She knew he was a bit – breathlessly, actually – clingy, but still respected her greatly when she asked for it. In time, he always knew how to make her laugh. In time, he always knew what to say and do in order to rid her of her stage fright. She was thankful for him in her life. And, in truth, even the thought of living without him pricked painful shivers in her smooth skin. She loved him. He loved her. And with this genuine love came born a beautiful, beautiful child. “Welcome to this world,” Olivia cooed lovingly, tears still trickling down flushed cheeks and lips bubbling a weak laugh at the feel of Henry’s kisses on her sweaty forehead, “our dear, dear, Inigo.” --- The child grew up wonderfully and happily. He was the mere definition of bliss. His smile was as radiant as the sun. His laugh was as melodious as bells. Rosy red usually splashed his smooth, soft cheeks. His hair was fluffy, soft, as white as the first snow of winter. He was a bundle of joy, a beaming sunshine, a cause of bliss and laughter to many people around. Though voice was rarely heard due to his crippling shyness, everyone loved him, cherished him, wanted to pamper him endlessly just so they could see the adorable shade of crimson in his plump cheeks. He had his father’s smile. He had his mother’s eyes. He had his father’s pure white hair. He had his mother’s passionate love for dancing. Inigo was the perfect mixture of his parents. Although he rarely talked much in his youth, he laughed and smiled easily to the people he was closest to. He often clutched his mother’s leg when visitors came to visit. He often hid in his father’s robe when they went to town. Inigo, like his father, was quite the clingy boy. However, he was still just as timid like his mother, often shirked away instead of approaching someone he so dearly wanted to be with at that time. Despite everything, he would always be noticed in the end, would always be lavishly spoiled by the undying love and attention from his parents. Inigo was loved and pampered throughout his childhood. And for that, he grew up to be such a loving, optimistic boy. --- “You’re doing great, darling!” Olivia cheered every time Inigo did a spin. “Oh, that was a wonderful bounce!” Olivia clapped every time Inigo hopped just an inch off the ground. Elated by the incoming praises, the young boy twirled and jumped again. His smile never faded from the moment he spent time with his mother, Inigo then stretched his arms to the side, head cocked slightly with a sight of a smile that rivalled the sun above. To see his mother’s laugh, to see his mother’s smile, he could feel pride and joy bursting so madly that he thought his head was about to explode. He didn’t mind that, actually. If anything, he was beyond thrilled to feel such a way if it meant getting to see his mother’s happiness. --- “Look at you, you amazing snowflake!” Henry awed every time Inigo swished his arms to the side. “Wah! This is some super great magic!” Henry clapped zestfully every time Inigo huffed out a short, squeaky ‘hah!’ Thrilled by the countless praises, the young boy spread his arms before giving one huge clap. By his signal, the wind whooshed swiftly towards the grinning father. Laughter then burst from such soft, pinks lips once he saw Henry’s hair was now a frizzled mess. To hear his son’s laughter, to see his son’s smile, Henry could feel bliss and gratefulness overwhelming his entire being. He didn’t mind that. Hell, he loved feeling every moment of it even if it killed him. --- The sky was getting darker each night. Even if it was broad daylight, Inigo shivered fearfully at the gloom that haunted the sky above. They rarely went to the village nowadays. They rarely got out of the house even as the days passed. His parents were still by his side, but their smiles and laughter weren’t always present like before. Instead, they held frowns, scowls, even spat out sighs and grunts when they thought he couldn’t hear them. He heard them, of course, and he was terrified. When Inigo asked, the child would always get the same answers. “Everything is fine, Inigo.” They would reassure him. “Everything will be alright.” They would gently pat him on the back. It was only when Inigo felt their bodies tremble faintly that he knew, he bitterly, woefully knew, everything wasn’t as fine as it used to be. He was scared. He was terrified. Fear kept him awake at night. The sounds of the unwanted jabbed whimpers and sobs from the poor, helpless boy. Sometimes, as he curled desperately in his parents’ tight embrace, Inigo wished dearly, deeply, that all of this would go away, that all of this was nothing but a mere dream and he would soon wake up happy and safe in his mother’s and father’s warm, loving hugs. He wished and wished. Day and night. Constantly and endlessly. And especially in the nights where the moon and stars were swallowed by ghostly abyss. --- But alas, as he grovelled silently in the rain with blood and flesh splattered disgusting before him, he was soon reminded that wishes were nothing but the cruel trick of the heart. --- His optimism died along with his parents. His smile and laughter were quickly replaced with trembling, broken shrieks. His throat hurt. It hurt too much. It hurt just by breathing in the cold, piercing air. Tears were long gone from eyes that cracked veins from within. Cheeks were void of colour, instead hollow and pale like death had claimed him too. Both arms were limp. Both legs were sore. Only in the rain did he find shelter in an abandoned shed not far from their graves. And even then Inigo wouldn’t budge; he would rather sit between the wet, dug holes for countless of hours. He hadn’t eaten anything for days. The only nourishment he’d gotten was from the rain that trickled poorly into his gaping, dry mouth. At times, Inigo wondered if the starvation would take him too. At times, he wondered if the nights he’d spent sprawling motionlessly between their graves would be the last night he had on this horrible, disgusting Earth. He would love that. He would want that. But alas, the Gods above really did hate him. The soil was too wet, too cold as he laid on his back. Blank eyes stared at the dark sky above. The moon was absent again. The stars had been swallowed by some unholy demon. Both arms were spread to the side, the back of his hands pressed weakly atop the graves. The bags under his eyes forced him to close his eyes. The agonizingly painful wound in his stomach forced him to stifle a breath. Ah, if only this was enough to take his life away. His breathing, so weak and frail, slithered unevenly through his nostrils. Never bothered to open his eyes, Inigo slowly, feebly turned his hand around. Both palms pressed against the squishy, cold soil. Sharp, broken nails dug deep into the earth, clutching the disgusting dirt that brushed roughly against the open wounds in his palms. He then felt cold drops poking his eyelids and forehead. And yet, he didn’t move a muscle. --- His father always advised him to never partake any dark magic. Inigo did ask why before, but Henry only replied by saying, “It’s too dangerous for you, son. Dark magic can hurt you bad even if you use a bit of it.” Inigo then proceeded to cry since he knew about his father’s knack for the dark arts, but the sorcerer then laughed gleefully and comforted him with the words of, “Oh, I’m fine, though! Besides, I’m not hurt by it at all because the power from your and your mother’s love are enough to make me stronger to bear it!” Inigo wondered if those words rang true. He never expected to actually test it anytime soon. It was one of those days where the sky had gloomed terribly as if the sun had long exploded. However, after what felt like forever, Inigo flinched terribly to hear growls and snarls from afar. After stumbling poorly out of the shed, the child actually, finally broke out a choked scream to see Risen approaching him. Or rather, they were approaching their graves. Panic. Panic boiled deep in the poor child. His legs and knees wobbled pitifully until he dropped and kneeled on the doorway. His arms and hands were too frail, too weak to even grasp at anything. Hazel eyes were full and his irises shrunk. The Risen were closing in and he needed to get rid of them – fast. But he was too weak. He hadn’t eaten anything in weeks and his flesh felt as if it had dried and stuck terribly to his bones. But he needed to move. He needed to protect his parents. Although their bodies had rotted, although their scattered bones and torn flesh were buried deep inside the earth’s soil, it nauseated Inigo that those Risen would even think of walking on top of their graves so blindly. But he was too weak. Tears filled the corners of his eyes. Yellow teeth chattered roughly inside a twisted scowl. G-G…o… Words that were neither his parents’ names for once echoed in his brain. G-G…M-o…ve… He tried to stand up. He tried to wobble to his feet and reach for anything to swat the Risen away. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t. Still kneeling in the doorway, Inigo gasped and choked as if something had clutched his throat. Sw…Sw-ord… He remembered his mother’s weapon; trembling eyes gazed to the side. The sword was still there, still gleaming beautifully as if it had been bathed by moonlight. Inigo only needed to reach it, to clutch it, to wield it so he could protect them from such eerie beasts. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t even move his arms. Anger fuelled his once dead heart. Even if he could hold the sword, he was just one child. Even if he did have enough strength in the word, what would he do? There were five Risen about to head his way and Inigo would soon be dead by the time one had clawed its way into his skull. Ah, he suddenly stopped, isn’t that…w-what I…want…? Finally, the Gods above were granting his wish. Finally, he would soon meet his parents. Was that not what he asked for every single day? He had suffered long enough. He had seen more nightmares than a child could bear. Maybe, just maybe, the Gods were finally pitying him and giving him the chance to escape this pitiful world. Finally… Inigo only stared emptily at the sword a few feet away from him. Finally… He then robotically turned his gaze to the Risen that were a few steps away from their graves. F-Fi… A single tear trickled down his pale, hollow cheek. Unaware that he had slid a few steps backwards, Inigo leaned weakly to what he soon realized was a small table near the door. Fi…n-nal…l-l-ly— Thud. The small table was fragile than expected, for his weight tipped it down, causing a thick book to fall right in front of him. Softening his fall with his left elbow, Inigo gaped dumbly at the book. Its cover was black, shiny, smooth to the touch as if it was made from the finest leather. Dust poofed from the book, making the poor boy cough and wheeze until he finally threw up bits of water and saliva. Tears now flushed in his eyes, Inigo brought one hand up and madly rubbed his eyes. When vision slowly returned back to normal, Inigo gaped at the mysterious book in front of him. It took him a few seconds, but he soon realized that it wasn’t any ordinary book. It was his father’s tome. “It’s too dangerous for you, son.�� His father’s words echoed hollowly in his mind. “Dark magic can hurt you bad even if you use a bit of it.” His father’s concern smile etched deeply in his brain. He remembered the thrill he felt when using normal magic. He remembered the harmless surge of power that slithered inside him every time he conjured up a simple spell. If those powers alone could affect him then, imagine what could happen if he used the spells of forbidden now? “Besides, I’m not hurt by it at all,” His father’s words sang in his brain like an eulogy, “because the power from your and your mother’s love,” His mother’s gleaming smile radiated brilliantly in his vision, “are enough to make me stronger to bear it!” The Risen’s growls were getting louder. Using every last ounce of his strength, Inigo threw his right hand to the tome and flipped open the cover. And right after he did, nausea once again boiled in his throat. And, at the same time, what was once a delicate shade of hazel eerily, furiously gleamed a nasty splash of red once he snapped his eyes open. --- It started to rain again that day. The silver sword sheathed deeply into the soft ground. What was once a Risen was now nothing but dark, smoky soot. The silent child stared blankly at the ground. Puffs of cold air wheezed out of his mouth. Puffs of purple smoke coughed right out of his throbbing throat. The violent smoke around the sword slowly fluttered away, showing the glistening metal that was now tainted with black blood and brown earth. Unable to hold his stance anymore, Inigo kneeled weakly to the ground. His head hung low, heavily, crimson eyes still throbbing and gawking at nothing in particular. He felt his energy draining rapidly. In a matter of seconds, just as his eyes turned hazel, Inigo dropped frailly to the ground. The sword tipped to the side as well, its sharp tip mere inches away from his panting, gaping mouth. The rain was quite heavy today. Head turned to face Olivia’s grave, Inigo feebly reached out for her. At the same time, his left hand stretched towards Henry’s, fingers digging deep into the soil drenched in blood. I…I did it… He faintly cheered. I…I p-pro…t-ect...ed…t-the…m— Vision blurred into two, into three, until his mind finally got captured by deep fatigue. --- Inigo really wished that he could meet his parents again. However, since that fateful day, he soon realized – as bitter as it was to be reminded – that his parents wouldn’t want to see him in this state before his last moments on Earth. So he trained. It was a gruelling attempt, but he forced himself, body and soul, to train so he could move on for his parents’ sake. It was a straining effort, but the child sucked it up and forced himself endlessly. Thankfully, the dark magic his father once forbade him gave Inigo the strength he needed to push himself. He didn’t go through the tome deeply, for just the slightest whiff of dark magic was enough to choke and gag him breathlessly. It felt like needles had pierced and punctured his skin. It felt like his heart was all too ready to burst right out of his chest. Luckily, the excruciating pain didn’t last for so long. And next thing he knew, Inigo soon perceived that horrifying chill as nothing more but little pinches on his skin. He did take his father’s advice though and kept the dark magic at a minimum so it wouldn’t overwhelm him. “Besides, I’m not hurt by it at all because the power from your and your mother’s love are enough to make me stronger to bear it!” The words were enough to actually make him giggle bitterly as Inigo splashed water onto his face. Kneeling by the small lake near their graves, the boy took a deep breath and exhaled shakily through a gaping mouth. It turned out that his father was right all along. --- After the perfect spin, he pressed one foot onto the ground and gave a gallant bow. Both arms spread before his big finale, Inigo then cocked his head and flashed a bright smile. “And that,” The boy straightened his back, “concludes my small little performance!” There were no responses, of course, for all that he received was the chilling brush of the wind. His smile never wavered, however. Hazel eyes closed quietly. Pale pink lips twitched just the slightest. He could hear her voice, hear her praises, hear her comments as well about what and where he should improve in his steps. The mere thought of it all made his heart race, made his eyes burn, but Inigo then opened his eyes, huffing a calm chuckle at the sight of the buried. “Ah, I’ll definitely improve, Mom.” His voice smooth as silk yet hinted with the slightest sorrow, Inigo took another deep breath before he looked at the grave next to hers. “Oh, but don’t think I’ve just been practicing my dancing!” Excitement fluttered in his beating heart, the boy clapped once before taking a deeper, longer breath. As he exhaled through his mouth, he slowly parted his hands. And when he did, a small wave of wind spiralled between his palms. “S-ee?” Voice cracked just the slightest in a mixture of woe and excitement, Inigo looked at Henry’s grave. “I managed to conjure up my own wind!” His eyes burn again, but he decided to ignore it. “N-ow…if I do this…” At the mental count of three, Inigo carefully spread his hands apart, then raised his right hand in the air. As his mind chanted the spell, the small wind intensified from beneath his feet and whipped upwards to the gloomy sky. His white hair fluttered upwards, then puffed into a thick mess once the wind disappeared. He knew he was being delusional, but Inigo didn’t care when he thought he could hear his father’s laughter and praises being sung in his ears. His heartbeat still raced. His smile still shined. A single tear finally trickled down his cheek. --- Inigo knew he had to leave his parents someday. He knew. He knew this but he didn’t wish to acknowledge it. However, after bumping into Owain who was searching for survivors, after hearing the news that many others were alive, Inigo knew his second chance to live a life was given right before his very eyes. From the moment they met, Owain insisted that Inigo should come along. He insisted that the place he stayed wouldn’t be safe for so long, and that the Fell Dragon would not be so merciful as to take their lives as simply and swiftly. He insisted, and yet Inigo was stubbornly hesitant. He didn’t wish to leave his parents’ graves. He didn’t wish to let those filthy, vile monsters to step on their bodies. Gods, just the mere thought of it burned fury in his heart. Inigo would rather die protecting them. Or at least, that’s what he first thought. “Lucina and the others are collecting the gemstones!” Owain explained hastily. “She said that Lady Tiki has found a way for us to save this future and our parents!” Save…the future. Save…his parents…? Inigo loved – used to love – jokes and jest, and he knew Owain was a rather flamboyant fellow. But now wasn’t the time for jokes, and Inigo actually snapped briefly at the Ylissean prince for spewing such tasteless nonsense. However, just the single glance at Owain’s firm, tight frown was more than enough to tell Inigo otherwise. Inigo couldn’t believe him. He actually wondered that this was just a dream and he would soon wake up in that cold, crooked shed. Drip… He didn’t realize that it started to rain that day. And after feeling the first drop of rain brushing down his dry cheek, Inigo knew this was reality. --- The flowers looked beautiful on their graves. Hazel eyes still fixed on the two, Inigo slowly rose to his feet. The silver sword was sheathed neatly by his right hip. The thick tome was tucked carefully inside his satchel. He wondered if this would be the last time he’d ever see them. Ah, just the thought alone ripped his heart into two. Quickly he shook his head. One hand firm on the hilt of the sword, Inigo let out a slow sigh. “Well, I’m off.” Carefully he whispered. “I…I’m going to go save the world, Mom, Dad.” His voice still wavered, yet Inigo did his best to keep his composure. His smile was trembling, but he kept on smiling. Teeth gently nipping the insides of his lower lip, Inigo spun his heel and walked away. His smile actually stayed for a while when he swore he could hear his parents’ farewells. --- Inigo was honestly surprised at the amount of survivors in this devastating apocalypse. He was exceptionally surprised to see the young exalt whom he hadn’t seen in years. “Inigo,” Lucina called out, “it’s been a while. I’m glad to see you’re unharmed.” Her smile was obviously weary, but just as sincere as she looked at him. Inigo didn’t reply immediately. Hazel eyes just stared in bafflement, lips suddenly feeling dry at the presence of the princess. His heart started racing. And for the first time in his life, it raced for a whole different reason. --- To be awakened in a whole different place – in a whole different timeline – Inigo sometimes wondered if the Gods loved to test and play around with him just to see how long he could last. Once again he was alone. Once again he had lost sight of the friends and family he loved dearly. Fear and panic bubbled from within, almost made him nauseous with worry. But Inigo gulped it down, then forced himself to his feet as he tried to make do of his surroundings. Hand rough and hard on the hilt of his sword, he looked left and right. No one was in sight. Not his friends. Not a soul. Panic still kept him alarmed, but awe and bafflement then softened his stance when Inigo realized something that he thought he could never see again. The leaves were green. The trees were brown. Hell, one quick whiff from his nostrils felt like his lungs had been cleansed after years of inhaling poison. Stupor now slowly swallowing that fear, Inigo blinked dumbly before cocking his head upwards. The sky was a beautiful shade of blue. The clouds were puffy, thick, an elegant tuff of pure white. Again he took a deep breath. This time, he gasped loudly and shortly. They did it. They had travelled back in time. His legs wobbled. His arms felt like jelly. Body stiffened immediately, Inigo slapped one hand to his gaping mouth and gawked at the grass below. He was in a world where beauty and peace used to cleanse the land. He was in a world where hope and dreams could be obtained. He was…H-He was… Drip… Drip… He was in a world where his parents were alive. --- A few months passed by quickly since their little time-travel. Inigo still couldn’t find the rest. He still couldn’t find his parents. He was anxious. He was excited. He was nervous. Sometimes everything was felt all at once until all Inigo could feel was pure nausea. He was here. He was here. In that short amount of time, he kept on travelling. He pursed bandits and killed them off from villagers. He pursued ladies and wooed them as best as he could just to make them smile. Sometime he succeeded. Sometimes he failed – miserably. But all that were more than enough to distract his worried mind. He would much rather make a person smile than to make them scream by his blade. But alas, Inigo knew, if he didn’t take their lives, they would be more than happy to take his. He sometimes apologized to his mother for having her sword so soaked with blood from the living. He sometimes apologized to his father for using his tome so often against the once beating hearts. Guilt sometimes twisted his heart. Reminiscence often choked his throat. But Inigo knew there was no time to dillydally. One could only mourn for so long, after all. So, with a wide, white smile curling the corners of his lips, Inigo moved on, swaying his sword and piercing them madly like a cheerful maniac. --- He couldn’t believe it. No matter how many times he rubbed his eyes. No matter how many times he shook his head. Hell, even if he thought of poking his eyes out and shining them clean before putting them back in each socket, Inigo just couldn’t believe it. “E-Er…” She’s here. “I—please don’t look at me s-so…intently…” She was really here. “It ah… It makes me t-terribly bashful…” He looked left. He looked right. And once he dropped his gaze at the petite dancer, he actually choked back a sob. She didn’t respond immediately, though bafflement flashed perfectly upon her beautiful face. Unable to take the pressure any longer, Inigo squeezed his eyes shut and made a mad dash for it. She’s here. “What?! W-wait! Don't go!” By Gods, just when Inigo thought he couldn’t hold on by the sound of her voice. “There you are my pretty, pretty flower! With tears trickling down his flushed face, a short gasp loudly escaped from his wide, trembling smile at the sound of his voice. --- They’re alive. “I’m shyer than you are, Mom!” Like a child, he argued with her. A tiny pout tugged by his lower lip, only the Gods knew just how wild his heart was shaking inside his chest. They’re alive. “No you’re not!” Unaware of the whirlwind of emotions in him, Olivia retorted. Hands close to her howling heart, the dancer then pulled a similar pout to the tall mercenary. In the end, the two stayed in silence, their faces a bright shade of red and timid squeaks stifled behind pursed lips. They’re alive. As silence became their form of communication, Henry then quickly shattered it with roaring laughter. “Aw, look at you two!” His smile was bright as the sun above, Henry clapped once before bouncing in one place beside Olivia. “Your faces are so red your heads might just explode into flames!” Despite his tasteless joke that would sure twist scowls on the other Shepherd’s mouths, Henry only laughed louder for his joy overwhelmed his emotions once the news of Inigo’s identity was brought into light. They’re…a-alive… Inigo watched as Olivia pouted at Henry who then flashed a cheeky grin. He watched as Henry playfully pinched her cheek which only made the dancer squeal even louder. The longer he looked, the more he couldn’t believe it. Mom…Dad… “I-Inigo?!” In a matter of seconds, her voice echoed beautifully once she felt her body being pulled to a hug. Left cheek nuzzling on what she quickly assumed was someone’s shoulder, Olivia gaped forward, only to realize Henry was in the same situation she was in too, though his left cheek rested against the side of Inigo’s head. Laughter then filled the bright sky. It wasn’t Henry’s. And it sure as hell wasn’t Olivia’s. It took them a second, but both dancer and sorcerer soon realized that the delightful burst came from none other than their darling future son. “Mom! Dad!” Body swaying left and right, Inigo couldn’t contain his thrill for so long and laughed even louder. “Gods, I missed you!” His eyes felt wet, yet the mercenary could no longer give a damn about appearances. “I missed you so, so, so much!!” His laughter was then mixed with cracked sobs. And although the young parents didn’t respond verbally, they only glanced at each other before wrapping each arm on the young man’s body. To feel their warmth, to hear their breathing, to know that they’re safe and alive. Gods…! Inigo only bit back his trembling smile and squeezed his eyes shut. Once upon a time, there was boy who missed his happy family so much. END

#Henlivia #Henry #Olivia #Inigo #Fire Emblem #Fire Emblem Awakening #lucina #owain #with hints of lucigo there hohohooh :3c #i hope u love your gift my dear!!!#i cant help bt torture him BUT AT LEAST HE GETS A HAPPY END just for u bb c:#EHHEHEHEHEHEHHEHE #oneshot #asthenicia

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eorumverba · 7 years

Text

anyw...happy birthday my lovely twin @judaru im lov u sm nd i hope..u had a Good bday

Kiss (verb - with object): touch with the lips as a sign of love, sexual desire, reverence, or greeting

1.The Forehead Kiss

Judal is asleep now, stretched out on Sinbad’s couch, and Sinbad can’t help the fond smile that spreads across his lips as he hears a quiet snore come from behind him. He’s doing work at the coffee table, and some point, between bothering Sin and playing games on his phone, Judal had fallen asleep. And Sinbad doesn’t blame him - Judal has the attention span of a toddler and he’d probably gotten bored, closed his eyes, and promptly knocked out.

Sinbad is now finally used to the kid’s sleep schedule, or lack of - Judal never manages to sleep for more than a few hours at a time, and ends up wandering around the house with heavy bags under his eyes even as he bugs Sinbad for hours on end. He’ll retreat to his or Sin’s rooms and Sinbad will usually find him under a pile of blankets, snoring away. Judal is a light sleeper, and that makes it even worse; Sinbad types out a reminder to buy more fragrant teas and candles for Judal. Sometimes the soothing aromas help him sleep better, and Judal always brews the best loose leaf tea.

Judal shifts and mumbles something out in his sleep, so Sinbad gathers his things as quietly as he can and stands, putting his things in the kitchen before detouring to his room to grab a heavy blanket for Judal. After draping the blanket over Judal’s lanky frame, Sinbad bends down and brushes his lips against warm skin, pulling away when Judal stirs. He doesn’t wake though - just rolls over and Sinbad smiles to himself again before dimming the lights and retreating to the kitchen so he can at least try to get some more work done.

2. Kiss on the Hand

For how uncommon it is for two men to be seen dancing together, there is a lot of it being done at Lord Sinbad’s annual winter ball. This is Judal’s first year receiving an invitation, and he fingers the silver envelope, anxiousness coiling through his belly. It’s a masquerade this year, and he’d been sure his long hair would give him away, so he’d taken a risk and purchased a billowy ice white dress and had thin silvery-white flowers placed in the elegant braid of his hair. His delicate mask completes the costume - he’s a swan, elegant and beautiful.

The carriage stops and Judal ignores the helping hand to step down on his own, balancing easily in his heels. He’s almost having second thoughts about the whole thing, but he swallows all his unease and follows the queue of people inside.

The ballroom is vast and somehow crowded already, dresses of all color swirling alongside dark suits - it would seem like any other ball, if not for the men dancing together alongside women doing the same. But who is he to judge, Judal decides, considering he’s the one wearing a dress. He spots Hakuryuu flirting with Alibaba’s redhaired escort but doesn’t go over to them, choosing instead to retire to the balcony, breathing in as deep as he can. The air smells faintly of roses and lavender, and Judal can’t help imagining reclining on a bed scattered with fragrant petals, still in his dress but not in his horrid corset. (It does wonders for his figure, but it’s not like he needs it.)

Someone clears their throat from behind him and Judal spins around, breath catching in his throat at the sight of high cheekbones and tan skin. Lord Sinbad.

“Dance with me,” Sinbad demands, and Judal is helpless to his whim.

They spin together in the middle of the ballroom, Judal’s cold hand warming under Sinbad’s. Sin’s other hand flirts with the curve of Judal’s waist, daring to push the boundary of what’s acceptable as his lips curve up, playful. His mask is nothing but a strip of cloth tied around his eyes, and Judal rolls his own.

“You didn’t try hard this year, Lord Sinbad.” Sinbad doesn’t seem at all surprised or perturbed at the deep voice paired with slim, otherwise feminine features.

“Just Sin. Who are you?”

“Judal.”

“Ah. You turned eighteen this year, no?”

“I did.”

“My - ah...what would you call him? Assistant? He has a rule against inviting anyone under eighteen because, well. One of Hakuryuu’s stepsisters - I thought she was old enough, but alas.” Sinbad’s sigh is dramatic and although Judal does know Kougyoku fairly well, he can’t help smiling, laughing a little.

“A very wise rule, Sinbad, considering your reputation.”

“Reputation?” there’s a roguish grin flirting with Sinbad’s lips, but before Judal can answer, the song comes to an end and they bow to each other. Sin takes one of Judal’s hands in his own and presses soft lips to his skin, lingering for a touch too long before straightening again, still holding Judal’s hand.

“I have to go make more rounds, but save a dance or two for me, Judal.”

Shocked to silence by Sinbad’s easy grin, Judal nods weakly. As the night goes on, he finds out that it’s impossible for him to say no to Sinbad.

3. The Lingering Kiss

Judal is more than half-asleep, lounging on the rock they’re slumped against. The sun is beating down on them but they’ve just come from a swim so the heat is more than welcome, and the gentle waves stir their tail - they’ve lost Sinbad a while back but Judal can’t really bring themself to care with how relaxed they are. There comes a rippling of the water and Judal’s eyes flutter open to see Sinbad next to them, propping himself up by his elbows and staring at them with nothing but love in his eyes.

They don’t need words anymore from the many years that they’ve been together, but Sinbad still moves slowly as he shifts over so he’s behind Judal. He drops a chaste kiss to the skin of Judal’s forehead before beginning to comb his fingers through Judal’s inky tresses, humming under his breath as he does so. The gentle fingers scratching their scalp makes Judal shift and purr, lips curving up despite themself. They’ve always been so weak for having their hair played with.

They don’t know how long they stay like that, with Sinbad’s hands in their hair and only the sun and sea for company, but it changes when Sin’s hands press against Judal’s cheeks, a wordless sign that he’s finished. Sin swims around again and heaves himself up on the rock, blanketing Judal’s body with his own and pushing his hair from Judal’s skin when Judal huffs.

Sinbad tastes like saltwater and Judal wants to drown in the taste flooding their senses, and they tangle their fingers through long, wet hair to pull Sinbad closer, their lips sliding effortlessly against Sin’s. Sin’s smiling against Judal’s lips and he slowly drops so there’s no space between them, just skin against skin and tail against tail.

“Hi there,” Sin murmurs after one last teasing suck to Judal’s lower lip. He looks so effortlessly beautiful like this, tanned skin and dark hair and shining eyes focused on them, “what are you thinking about?”

“You.”

Sin flushed pink and his smile turns softer, shy and when they duck down for another slow kiss, it says all the things he can’t.

4. The Vampire Kiss They’re both far too drunk for this and that makes it all the better; Judal barely feels his back slam against the bathroom stall’s wall, focusing instead on the man pressing against him, hot skin and even hotter lips. He tastes like whiskey and cigarette smoke, and he swallows all of Judal’s pitched noises as easy as breathing. He mouths his way down the column of Judal’s neck, lips like fire against Judal’s throat. Judal bites back a moan when the man’s teeth scrape against his skin but it’s nothing compared to the strangled noise he makes when the man really bites.

This time when they kiss, it tastes like whiskey and cigarette smoke and sweat and sugar - the man pulls away and his breaths are harsh when he asks, “Is that sugar?”

Judal laughs and leans back, catching his breath as well before murmuring, “Why don’t you see how far down it goes?”

His stranger kisses the smirk from Judal’s lips before trailing back down to his neck, and if the way he’s attacking the skin of Judal’s neck says anything, he’ll have marks to boast about this for weeks.

5. The French Kiss

Fanservice. It’d been just that - fanservice.

That’s what Judal tells himself, what he tells the others, but they all know that this had been a long time coming. All of the comments on Judal’s twitter and instagram are asking if he’s dating Sin and since when - Judal turns off his phone and goes to his laptop instead. He doesn’t have to do much digging to find what he’s after, and watching the video, he does have to admit that it doesn’t look like fanservice, not by the end.

They’re in the middle of a song and Sin has always loved skinship, pushing boundaries, fanservice - so Judal isn’t surprised to feel a heavy arm thrown around his shoulders as Sin lets the cheering crowd sing his lines. Sin’s grinning and Judal doesn’t know if it’s the adrenaline pungent in the air or the joy mirrored in Judal’s stomach and Sin’s eyes, but something makes Judal cup Sin’s cheek (which isn’t unusual, and it just makes the crowd roar louder as Sin’s smile grows) and lean in and close his eyes as his lips press to Sin’s.

He can’t hear the crowd anymore, entirely focused on the stop of Sin’s breath before Sin’s lips begin to move against his, eager as he licks into Judal’s mouth. Somewhere in the back of Judal’s mind, he wonders if maybe they shouldn’t be doing this where thousands of people can record it, but the little noise Sin makes makes Judal melt into him.

And when he finally draws away, he’s breathless and eager, but Sin is smiling, and Judal realizes that he’s absolutely screwed.

6. The Spiderman Kiss

If Judal has chosen this tree to lounge in on purpose, no one needs to know - Judal gazes down at Sinbad beneath him, head pillowed by his arms. He’s more than half held up on the thin tree branch by magic, but it’s also partly his own balancing skill. Sinbad is directly beneath him, and while he has paperwork spread out in front of him, held down by pretty looking paperweights, he’s been nodding off for the past half hour.

And Judal doesn’t blame him - the shade of the tree is the perfect combatant against the heat of the afternoon sun, and it’s quiet here, warm and still.

And Sinbad is here.

Judal would like to think that his traitorous heart is fluttering from the sights around him and not from the man below him, but he knows it’s not - it’s the light scent of roses and something earthier, it’s Sinbad.

Quietly, Judal slips from the branch he’s perched on and lets his magic float him down so he’s upside down in front of Sinbad. Judal’s eyes fall to Sin’s lips and he purses his own before reaching out to touch the swell of Sin’s lower lip. It’s soft, soft enough for Judal to lean in further, just enough to brush his lips against Sin’s. It’s when he’s about to pull away that Sin shifts in his sleep and immediately, Judal lets his magic carry him back up to his branch, where he watches Sinbad stir awake with flushed cheeks and trembling fingers, the memory of his stolen kiss enough to keep him flustered for the rest of the day.

7. The Bite and Nibble

For some reason, Judal love love loves to bite - Sinbad is long used to the sting of Judal’s teeth on whatever part of skin is available, to the soft brush of his tail before he bites down hard. He always always always leaves marks, and he’ll hum in approval as he looks at the bruises before moving away like nothing’s happened.

Sin had been startled at first, but it’s nothing out of the ordinary now - just one of Judal’s habits. Which is why he barely flinches when Judal comes up to him and squats in front of Sin, frowning up at him with twitching ears until Sin sighs and rolls over onto his back. Judal makes a happy little noise and clambers on top of Sin, staring down at him with an unreadable look in his eye. Sin is prepared for Judal to lean down, but he’s not prepared for the brush of soft lips against his own. When Sin makes a soft noise of surprise, Judal’s teeth scrape against the curve of Sin’s lower lip, noticeably gentler than how he usually bites, but still harsh.

Sin nearly loses himself in the scrape of Judal’s teeth and the soft of his tongue, in the slow rolling motion of his hips and the warmth between them. When Judal pulls back, his ears are twitching and his tail searches out Sin’s, curving around his as Judal’s lips flirt with a shy smile. And before Sin can say anything, Judal scurries away, but not before Sin can see the flush high on his cheeks. (Sinbad thinks he can get used to this.)

8. The Big Tease

Sinbad doesn’t get why Judal’s called him over in the dead of night until he steps inside and sniffs the air. Immediately, he’s simultaneously slamming the door shut and taking in greedy breaths, the scent of Judal’s pheromones high in the air. It’s clear now that Judal is in heat, his first one, that he’d called Sin over-

Sin hears a quiet noise from upstairs and he takes the steps two at a time, stopping short in the doorway when he sees Judal on his bed, pale skin flushed pink. He’s completely naked and clearly eager, ass high in the air with three fingers inside.

The eager movements of his fingers stop suddenly and Judal sniffs the air audibly, swivelling around (at any other time, Sin would laugh at his gracelessness) and staring at Sin with hunger clear in his eyes.

“Alpha,” he murmurs, “alpha, please. Sin-”

That’s all he’s able to get out before Sin crosses the room and blankets Judal’s quivering body with his own. When he manages to get Judal rolled over so they’re facing each other, Sin crashes their lips together, easily, effortlessly licking into Judal’s mouth and muffling his moans with his lips and teeth and tongue. His kisses start at Judal’s lips and slowly make their way down to his neck, where Sin forces himself to stay - he can smell Judal leaking and it’s making him impatient, needy, eager. To alleviate the quickly building pressure, Sin ruts into Judal, but it just makes his omega whine and wrap long legs around Sin’s waist to press closer.

It feels like ages before Sin is finally able to suck one dusky nipple into his mouth, and immediately, Judal arches further, a broken noise escaping his lips. Sin decides then that he’s teased enough, and he sits back enough to take his clothes off before turning Judal over and the only warning he gives Judal before pushing in is the way he grabs Judal’s hips and ruts the head of his cock against his puffy rim once, twice, thrice before easily sinking into tight tight heat.

9. The Cheek Kiss

There’s a boy playing in the sandbox all alone, and Sinbad finds his gaze drawn towards him from his place on the swings. He jumps off the swing and soars through the air for one long moment before crashing down to earth - he scrapes his knees but he doesn’t care all that much (scrapes mean bandaids, and bandaids mean getting to show off how high he jumped!) and when he’s sure the pretty boy isn’t looking, he scurries over and crouches in front of him.

“Why are you playing alone?”

The boy looks up at him and frowns before looking at Sin’s knees and widening his eyes. He points, doesn’t say a word and Sin looks down at his bloody knees as well. “It’s just a scrape, I’m fine. I flew.”

The boy gives Sin this look, incredulity tinged with disgust and almost...contempt - but Sin doesn’t care. The look suits him. “Do you talk?”

The boy shakes his head, then nods, then shrugs, leaving Sin to fill in the gaps.

“Just not today?”

A nod this time.

“That’s fine. I can talk for the both of us!”

That gets him the wisp of a smile and Sin settles down in the sand next to the boy, frowning. “Can you write your name in the sand?”

Pretty pink lips purse in a pout that’s cuter than it should be, and without thinking, Sin leans over and kisses the boy’s cheek. It’s soft, like peach fuzz, and Sin giggles. “My mom and dad do that a lot. You’re really cute, I like you.”

The boys cheeks are pink like his lips now and he shakes his head, clearly trying not to laugh. He opens his mouth then and mumbles a quiet, “My name’s Judal.”

Sin likes that. “I’m Sinbad, but everyone calls me Sin.”

Judal smiles.

10. The Jaw Kiss

They’re all drunk off their asses, celebrating their success in this week’s battle of the bands, and Sin’s arm is heavy around Judal’s shoulders. He’s got a bottle of something in one hand and he’s talking to Sharrkan in a voice far louder than need be. Judal grimaces when Sin turns around to look at him even as he laughs at something Sharrkan’s said. Or no, Sharrkan is currently straddling Masrur’s lap and...well.

Judal turns his gaze from them, trying and failing to ignore the way Sin is looking at him. His gaze is heavy with intent, and before Judal can move from his grip, Sin leans in and kisses him - or tries to. His lips end up brushing against Judal’s jaw, but it’d been an open mouthed kiss and Sin ends up slobbering all over Judal’s jaw.

It feels weird.

Judal pushes Sin away with ease and wipes at his jaw with Sin’s shirt sleeve, wrinkling his lip in disgust even as Sharrkan laughs at them. Sin’s still staring at him with a dopey look on his face, and Judal rolls his eyes, well aware of Sin’s crush on him.

(While it may hurt them both, it’s easier to pretend that he doesn’t have a crush of his own.)

11. The Air Kiss

Judal’s day starts like clockwork - he’ll sleep through all the alarms he’s set and jolt awake when he sees the time, and he’ll grab the first set of clothes he sees before grabbing his bag and rushing out the door. He’d tried one day to skip his daily coffee and it’d fucked him up so badly that he spent an hour one evening calculating the shortest route from his dorm to the coffeeshop to the building where his first class (calculus) is.

The same employee is at the register and by now, they’re familiar enough with each other for the man to blow him a kiss when Judal comes running through the door. He’ll have Judal’s coffee waiting and all Judal has to do is slap the money down before running out the door, barely a thank you falling from his lips.

And the pattern remains the same.

Until for once, Judal wakes up early - nearly two hours early. It’s nice to be able to take his time picking out his clothes and brushing his hair, walking to the coffeeshop and startling the lone man at the register.

“Hi, tall vanilla latte?”

The man spins around and there’s shock clear on his face, but he nods and gets to making the coffee right away. “You’re early,” he comments. There’s still a bit of shock in his voice, but it’s easily overshadowed by amusement, and Judal snorts.

“Don’t get used to it.”

“Your coffee.”

Judal pays and instead of going to sit, he stands by the register, waiting for his coffee to cool as his gaze locks with the other man’s.

“What’s your name?”

“Sin. You?”

“Judal.” It feels weird and oddly intimate like this, so Judal picks up his coffee and gives Sin an awkward half smile.

“I’m going to go to class, so. Bye, I guess.”

The next day, he wakes up early as well, so Judal heaves a sigh and heads to the coffeeshop again. This time, Sin waves and blows a kiss, and Judal is prepared. “Why do you do that?”

“You’re cute, and it’s funny.”

“I’m glad I amuse you.”

Judal takes his coffee and leaves as soon as he has it, too flustered by the look on Sin’s face to do anything else.

It takes a while, but after about a month of dancing around each other and half-conversations, Judal returns Sin’s air kiss with one of his own

(And a few weeks after that, Judal marches right up to the register and kisses Sin full on the mouth, and Sin easily returns it.)

12. Single Lip Kiss

Sin has been Judal’s figure skating partner for years now, which means he knows how to read Judal better than anyone. So when he doesn’t see the usual burning determination in Judal’s eyes, instead of prepping for their second toss, Sin catches Judal’s wrist with his and brings them to a gliding stop, swiveling around so he can face Judal and frowning at him.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Judal mumbles, but it’s painfully obvious that he’s lying.

“I know you’re lying.”

“It’s nothing!”

Sin rolls his eyes and watches Judal skate towards the entrance to the rink, irritation laced on his features. “Maybe next time I’ll drop you!”

“Fuck you!” Judal calls back. He doesn’t sound angry though, and Sin sighs before going to follow him.

He finds Judal sitting on one of the benches outside, fingers trembling as he struggles to unlace his skates. He looks so small suddenly, and Sin bites his lip before going over and brushing Judal’s hands away to undo the laces himself.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”

Judal makes a noncommittal noise and Sin purses his lips as he finishes one skate and gently takes it off. Halfway through unlacing the second skate, Judal speaks again, voice quiet. “I’m distracted. We have the competition next week, but…I can’t focus.”

“Hey, hey. Whatever it is, tell me and we’ll fix it. Can’t have you zoning out next week.”

“I like you,” Judal’s voice breaks and Sin freezes. The skate is halfway off of Judal’s foot and Judal reaches down with trembling fingers to push it off completely before fumbling for his own shoes and wrenching them on.

“You like me?”

Judal makes an annoyed noise and when Sin finally looks up at him, he’s flustered and there are unshed tears shining in his eyes. “Yes, I like you. I like you and it’s so distracting being this close to you, and I can’t afford to fuck this up for the both of us just because I can’t get over a stupid crush-”

That’s when Sin leans up and in and kisses Judal, soft and eager. When he moves to pull away, Judal fists his hands in his hair, keeping him close. Judal’s lips are soft and they taste like the salt of his tears, and more spill when Sin wipes his cheeks dry.

“Come on, then. Are you leaving or staying?” Sin asks, standing now.

Judal frowns up at him, but it’s more of a pout than anything, and Sin can’t help laughing. “What was that then?”

“What was what?”

“You kissed me! Do you like me?”

“Yeah, I like you.”

“Oh. We can stay. Lace my skates!”

Sin sighs and reaches for Judal’s skates, tired of his partner’s tricks already. He realizes only then what a handful he’ll have - but if it’s Judal, it’ll be worth it. (Even if he doesn’t think he’ll ever like Judal the way Judal likes him.)

13. Lizard Kiss

The sight of the silver ball on the pink of Judal’s makes Sin’s knees go weak, and when he sees Sin staring, Judal sticks his tongue out, wiggling it playfully. “Like my piercing?”

“Get over here.”

Judal hides his laugh behind his fist before slipping from the counter and moving over to where Sin is sitting at the table. He easily slides into Sin’s lap and kisses him open-mouthed, gasping into Sin’s mouth as Sin easily finds the piercing and sucks at it, eager from the start. It’s not long before Sin tells Judal to stick your tongue out and when Judal does so, Sin sucks Judal’s tongue into his mouth and shallowly bobs his head, using his actions to show what he’d do later, what would make Judal moan and cry out and come with Sin’s name on his tongue.

At the first muffled cry Judal makes, Sin lets Judal’s tongue slip from his mouth, a smirk on his lips. It turns unsteady when Judal licks back into Sin’s mouth, piercing warmed from Sin’s ministrations, and when he catches the tip of Sin’s tongue once and then again, Sin gets what he’s trying to do - he lets the tip of Judal’s tongue trace circles around his own before sucking his tongue back into his mouth.

Judal is left breathless and trembling when Sin pulls away, and they both laugh sort of awkwardly when their gazes meet.

“I really like your piercing,” Sin says. It’s unnecessary, but it just makes Judal laugh even harder before he slips from Sin’s lap and saunters off towards the fridge.

14. The Eskimo Kiss

They’re studying together in the library - or Judal is trying to study, and Sin is distracting him with kisses pressed to Judal’s neck and shoulder when he thinks no one can see. Hakuryuu is across from them, and he keeps glaring at Judal whenever Sin does it - like Judal can control Sin! - and Judal is trying to ignore the both of them.

“If you’re going to keep doing that,” Hakuryuu mutters, “at least do it quietly. Jeez.”

“Can’t,” Sin mumbles back, “not until Juju does what he’s promised.”

When Judal chances a glance up at Hakuryuu, he’s not sure if the disgust on Hakuyruu’s face is from the petname or because of the way Sin is nuzzling into Judal’s neck and peppering his skin with kisses.

“Jesus, Judal - just do what he wants! It’s getting ridiculous, honestly…”

“I think you’re just jealous.” Judal contemplates tilting his neck further to let Sin kiss him even more, but at the strangled noise Hakuryuu makes, Judal huffs and pushes Sin away before facing him. He wants to ask Hakuryuu to at least look away, but that’ll make it worse, so Judal just takes a breath and leans in to rub his nose against Sin’s, squashing down a pleased smile at the pleased noise Sin makes.

“You’re disgusting.” Hakuryuu sounds two parts squicked out and one part happy, and when Judal looks at him, he’s smiling.

“It’s almost cute. I’m glad you two are happy, really. But maybe tone down on the making out, yeah?”

Judal opens his mouth to agree with Hakuryuu, but before he can say anything, Sin answers for him as he curls an arm around Judal’s waist. “Nope!”

15. Kiss of an Angel

For all the many years that Judal has been dead, he hasn’t felt anything for any of the people that have moved into his house, not anything more than passing amusement. He’s always pulled his pranks (what sort of ghost would he be if he didn’t?) but he’s never really cared about any of the living.

Until Sinbad.

Sin’s been living at the house for over a year now, much longer than anyone else, and Judal is...rather fond of him now. Sin barely flinches at all of Judal’s pranks now, just chuckles and rolls his eyes and continues with what he’s doing.

Sin is taking a nap on the couch now, lips parted to take in quiet breaths. Judal contemplates maybe knocking some books off the shelf, but Sin will only sigh and put the books back, if he even wakes up. So Judal resorts to sitting on Sin’s chest - not that Sin will feel him anyway - and staring at his sleeping face. Sin is actually pretty handsome, Judal’s noticed, but despite his overwhelmingly good looks and personality, he’s never had a girl or guy over.

Judal leans in closer, staring hard at Sin as if that will somehow wake him up. He wants to kiss Sin in that moment, but to do that would mean making himself be seen, and felt. And that can’t happen.

Judal pushes his heavy braid back and leans in further, letting his lips just barely touch the space between Sin’s eyebrows. Almost as soon as he does, Sin’s eyes flutter open and Judal falls back and off the couch, heart pounding in his chest as Sin sits up and looks around. His eyes land on Judal and he frowns, and Judal waits for Sin to look away, but he doesn’t.

“Who are you?” he asks.

And oh, Judal thinks. Oh.

16. Seductive Kiss

“You two probably aren’t even dating,” Sharrkan’s frowning, “you probably just said it to get couple discounts or something.”

Sin gasps, as if outraged. “We’re totally dating!” As if to prove it, he throws his arm around Judal’s shoulders and pats the side of his head.

Judal snorts and ducks free of Sin’s heavy grip, but he nods in agreement. “Totally dating.”

“Prove it.”

“How-”

“Kiss!”

“Voyeur,” Judal huffs, ducking his head into the curve of Sin’s armpit to hide his flush. Sin’s shirt smells like laundry detergent, and Judal takes in a deep breath, both to calm himself and because it smells good.

Sharrkan makes an offended noise and Sin laughs loud - they both seem to forget that they’re in the middle of a crowded ice cream shop, and Judal stabs a spoon into his shared dessert with Sin. “Fine, we’ll kiss. You’re still nasty though, Sharr.”

Before he can lose his nerve, Judal turns back to Sin and cups his cheeks in his hands to bring Sin down to his height. They’ve never kissed before, so the way Sin so easily licks into Judal’s mouth makes him gasp, and a strangled little noise falls from Sin’s lips when Judal’s teeth scrape against his lower lip. Sin’s the one that pulls away and they’re both breathless, and Judal shoves his hands below the table so Sharrkan doesn’t see their trembling.

“I never want to see you do that again.”

“Good, because it won’t happen again.” (At least, Judal thinks, not where Sharrkan can see.)

#magi #sinju #i havent..done sinju in Years #also ok i did this all today so im kinda :') proud of htat lmao #even if it is late yike #my writing

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