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linyi-is-dreaming · 1 year

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The Drop Of A Tear - 25

BTS V x Y/N (Reader)

Summary: Tae meets a woman who is very manipulative. Before he even notices anything, she got him around his finger. He decides to leave his wife Y/N and his four kids to start a new life with the new woman. This perfect house of cards that he had just started to build, starts to unfold as she starts to show her true face. Piece by piece it makes him feel sick. Tae notices his wrong doing as his house of cards start to fall apart. Regret and hate towards himself makes him wish to turn things around. Will he be able to safe his house of cards and to get back what he once threw away? Is Y/N able to forgive?

CHAPTER 25

It took Tae a long time for him to figure out how his son could meet his favorite soccer player. As he looks at his son's wide grin, the time spent on the phone and the days of planning begin to fade. The longer Tae looks at his son, the more he wants to take images of him being joyful. His son's smile hasn't changed a bit since the time he met his favorite player earlier on today.

“I still can’t believe I got his signature on my t-shirt.”, Tae’s son tells him as he keeps looking at the t-shirt in his hands. The way he looked at his shirt, it almost appeared as if he was beginning to realize that meeting his favorite player was not a dream. “Look, he even wrote a message on the back of our photo!”

“Didn’t he sign much more?”, Tae asks as he notices the green traffic light. As he begins to drive away, he points to the boys' bag.

“I only took bag he gave me, but I haven’t checked for any signatures...” Half-listening, his son peers at the bag for a split second before returning his gaze to the signature on his shirt. Tae looks at his son for a second without losing focus on the traffic when he notices that he does not appear to want to check for the bag.

“Well, maybe you should check the bag.”, Tae suggests with a smile. “There could be more...”

“Okay.”, the boy says as he takes the bag onto his lap. Tae's hand movement startles him just as he was about to touch the zip.

“Wait!”, Tae screams suddenly.

“What? What?”, his son screams scared as he looks at his father.

“Your window is not closed. Let’s not lose anything.”

“Are you serious, dad? I almost had heart attack!” He couldn't help but giggle at his son's expression. “Why are you scaring me like that?”

“Oops.”, Tae laughs as he keeps driving.

“Not funny at all. I thought something bad is about to happen!”

“Sorry, son. So, what’s in the bag?”

“Will you scare me again?”

“I promise I won’t.”, Tae chuckles. “I promise, I won’t.”, he repeats slowly.

“Is there something in the bag that will scare me?”, the boy asks worriedly,

“I promise, there won’t be anything scary in the bag.” For a moment, he waits before he opens the bag slowly.

“Shoes! Signed shoes!”, the boy screams as he takes them out of the bag to take a closer look. He turns them around to see if only one of the pair has been signed. “A t-shirt with the player’s last name on it and a lot more merchandise!”

“Wow! Isn’t that great?”, Tae says cheerfully. “I guess I will try to organize this glass houses and frames to put them in there...”

“This day is awesome!”

“I am glad you are enjoying this day so much.”

“Thank you, dad! I don’t even know how to describe my happiness right now.” Happily, Tae takes a short look at his son. Words cannot describe how much he would want to take a picture of the current joy of his son.

“You are very welcome. I am sorry that it took so long but at least we finally were able to meet him.”

“I already thought you have forgotten about your promise to be honest.”

“I never forgot about it. It took me and my manager hours to plan everything. He's booked out for most of the time, especially now that he is in practically every sport commercial.”

“I will rub it in their faces next time I am at Uncle Namjoon’s house.”

“Why would you do that?”, Tae asked worriedly. When the words keep coming back to him, he wonders if his son just said what he had heard.

“The boys said that it would never happen.”

“Just be nice about it, okay? You know, not everyone will believe your words. But if your words become reality, they must believe. You remember-”

“I remember that, yes...”, his son sighs. “Can I at least show it to them? Not showing off, but just show that it happened?”

“As long as you are not rude.”, Tae answers him as he parks smoothly in front of Jungkook’s apartment building.

“What are we doing at Jungkook’s house?”, the boy asks surprised. “I thought you take me home to mom’s place?” His son can read Tae's bewilderment like a book. He glances at his son, surprised, without saying anything. “Dad?”

“Wait. You are all living here. I, I am pretty sure you do.”, Tae stutters as he realizes his child is not attempting to prank him with his words.

“No, we don’t live here anymore.”, the boy says slowly. “Dad, are you okay? That is why I was meant to wait for you at your agency.”

“But I know for a fact that you live here. When were you supposed to have moved away?”

“Dad, I am telling you, we do not live here anymore. We moved a few days ago.”

“You really moved?”, Tae asks. “Your mom got her own place or with another uncle?”

“We moved into mom’s new place last week.”

“Wait. Hold on.”, Tae says as he loosens his seat belt as he leans towards his son. “Who are you living with now?”

“With mom and my siblings. Why?” As the boy notices his father's confusion about their current living situation grows, he begins to worry about him. “I thought you knew...”

“Jungkook did not move with you?”

“No. Why should he move with us?”, the boy asked confused by his father reaction. Tae's vision begins to take on the appearance of a large puzzle. Does the fact that she has her own apartment indicate that Jungkook is not interested in dating her? Does this mean she'll need financial support again? Who is supporting her? As he glances down at his knees, a series of questions begin to flood his thoughts. “Dad? Hello?”

“Yeah, sorry.”, Tae mumbles as he notices a well-known face at the window. “Look, it’s Jungkook.” Just as he finished his sentence, his son opens his window. “Hey Jungkook.” His voice was neutral, despite his dissatisfaction with Jungkook's appearance.

“Hello you two! Were you about to visit me?”, Jungkook wonders as points at the bag. “Is somebody staying with me tonight?”

“Actually no...”, Tae answers as he looks at Jungkook still confused.

“Are you alright?”, Jungkook wonders as he looks at Tae’s son. “Is your father feeling unwell?” But the only response he gets is the boy shaking his head. Even though Tae is hesitant to ask, fearful of receiving information he does not want, he knows he must gather more information about Y/N's new address.

“He just told me that they are not living here anymore... What’s going on? I thought they are still living with you.”

“Didn’t Y/N call you?”, Jungkook wonders. “I thought she informed you.” Jungkook's baffled expression indicates that his words must be true. Did she tell him she was going to call Tae so Tae wouldn't know if she didn't tell him?

“She did not say a word about moving out... Not even today when I told her I will drive our son to meet his favorite player in the stadium...” A smile appears on Jungkook’s face as he looks back at the boy.

“You finally met him? How was it?”, he asks excited. The question immediately brings back the boy's bright smile.

“It was so cool! He signed most of the stuff and I got even more in the bag!”

“That’s awesome!” The loud clearing of Tae’s throat got Jungkook’s attention immediately. “Sorry. Actually, we have practice later on... Will you make it on time?”

“That is why I planned to bring him to his mother before practice but now I don’t know where she even lives. One again!”

“Relax. It is not that far from here.”, Jungkook comments as he looks at his phone. “We should still make it on time.”

“So, where is it?”

“I don’t know if I should tell you...”, Jungkook says as he pretends to think about it. “If I ride along with you, I’ll tell you.”

“Why would you drive with us?”

“Because from there you will drive to practice, and I will not have to drive myself to get there.”

“Fine.”, Tae sighs as he unlocks the car. “Get in.”

“Just take the directions I give you.”, Jungkook says as he opens the car door widely. Tae’s look felt like fire on Jungkook’s skin. “Get in the backseat, I think it is better if I sit in the front.”

“But dad allowed me to sit in the front today.”, the boy answers.

“Yeah, it is his day today.”, Tae confirms. “Take a seat on the backseat!”

“Do I need to remind you on the few sweets I helped you hide from your siblings?”, Jungkook whispers. Even the further Tae leans forward, he cannot hear what Jungkook has just whispered. Without saying anything else the boy grabs his stuff and gets out of the car.

“What are you doing?”, Tae wonders as he watches his son opening the back door. “Wait a minute.”

“Uh, the front seat is so nice.”, Jungkook comments as he looks at Tae. “Any problems?”, Jungkook questions as he fastens his seatbelt.

“Yeah, you! Sit in the back.”

“Uhm, no. If you want to have her address, I will drive with you like that.” In frustration, Tae wipes his face with his fingers.

“Fine.”

“Do you keep repeating what I have said?”

“Do you keep repeating what I have said?”, Jungkook repeats.

“Stop this right now.”

“Jungkook!”

“Jungkook!” The boy watches from the backseat as the scene unfolds in front of him. It is not easy for him, but he tries his best to keep the laughter as quiet as possible. “See, we are entertaining your son.”

“We entertain? No, you make my hair grow white.”

“Just start the car.”, Jungkook says as he turns around to the boy. “You got to tell me all about today! But safety first, fasten your seatbelt. We know your father is not the best driver.”, he winks at the boy which made the boy laugh in an instead.

“I heard that!”, Tae comments annoyed.

“It was meant to be heard.”, Jungkook answers as he turns his body to the front of the car.

💧💧💧

“Park somewhere around here.”, Jungkook suggests as they arrive at near Y/N’s house. “It is right over there.”

“The one with the small glass on the front door?”

“Yeah, that is the one.” Tae nods whilst he unfastens his belt. “What are you doing?”

“Going to the door to check out the house.”

“You do not have to do that, dad.”, his son interrupts. “We are not fully settled in yet and my room is not finished. Can you come another time...? Like, when sis is not in the house for example?” Of course, he couldn't have forgotten about his own child, who claims to despise him. If Y/N would even let him in is a different story, especially since she appears to still feel the same way as his daughter.

“I understand.”, Tae says as he fakes a smile. “I will wait until you are in the house.”

“Thanks dad!”

“Bye big boy! Be good to your mom, okay? Don’t let your sisters annoy you!”, Tae tells him quickly as his son grabs his stuff.

“Thanks for today!”, his son says quickly before he runs towards the entry.

“He looks truly happy, doesn’t he?”, Tae comments happily.

“He does... Uhm, Tae?”

“Yeah.”

“We shall get going?”

“Yeah, we should...”

“Up to practice then.”, Jungkook states as he puts the seat belt on again. He waits for a moment, but Tae is still not moving the car key. “Tae?”

“Who does this place belong to?”

“It once belonged to one of our members. Can you get going? I really don’t want to be late.”

“Which member?”

“Can you ask and drive?”

“No.”, Tae says in a strict tone. “Tell me, who bought it?”

“She bought it on credit.”

“Y/N does not have the saving to get a credit from a bank.”

“I don’t know how much you know but if you really need to talk about Y/N’s money, talk with her.”

“Alright. I will.”, Tae says replies. “I won’t tell her you told me.” With those words, he abruptly exits the car and begins walking directly towards her house.

“Where are you going?”, Jungkook screams as he watches Tae walking away. “Tae! Tae! Damnit.” Quickly, he jumps out of the car to follow Tae. “Tae! Don’t you hear me?” With a few steps, he moves in front of Tae and prevents him from walking.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”, Tae wonders as he looks at him.

“Tell you what?”

“That she moved!”

“It just did not come up. She has her own place like you wanted, isn’t that great?”

“Yeah, it is... but something smells fishy. I have a weird feeling about it.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Where is the money coming from? I know she has a well-paid job but, no matter how many extra hours she might have done, Y/N would not be able to collect that amount of money in that short time.”

“You know she is working, right?”

“I do but, that apartment building does not look cheap.”

“You know who she is working for, right? You don’t know, do you?”

“Does it matter? She is not even working full time. How is she supposed to pay the debts?”

“Just answer me!” He takes a deep breath, irritated at Jungkook's style of speaking.

“Y/N is working in a top company that has more than enough money to even lend money to their own employees. She asked if she would be able to get one and they gave her one straight away.”

“Just like that?”

“Yes. When they gave her a little raise for the great work, they mentioned it. When she explained her situation, they offered it, and she took it.”

“If you told me all of this just a little sooner...!”

“I didn’t know if you cared to know and next to that, I am not even sure what another member might have told you.”

“I need to think about that... Let’s get to practice.”, Tae speaks slowly as he walks back to the car. “Fuck!”

“What?”

“My key! My car key is still in the car which locked itself already!”

“No, the car key is not in the car.”, Jungkook says laughingly as he holds up the key. “Be happy I am thinking.”

“Shut up.”, he commands as he takes the keys. “Get in.”

💧💧💧

The session felt like it lasted forever, and everyone's clothes appeared to be drenched in sweat. To everyone's delight, their dance choreographer requests a break. The gathering rapidly divided into several groups, and several people exited the room with their phones in hand. Jimin is interested by the expression on Yoongi's face as he continues to watch Tae.

“Why are you looking at him like that?”

“Is Tae like the old Tae again or is it just scaring me?”, Yoongi whispers to Jimin as they watch Tae talking with Jungkook and Namjoon.

“I am not quite sure. I mean, maybe the old one.”, Jimin whispers back as they watch Tae’s body language.

“So, he is not mad at you anymore?”

“Hopefully.”

“Remember what Jungkook texted.”, Yoongi tells him as he turns to grab a water bottle. “Let’s hope her work does not give her any troubles with the loan.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Yeah, I hope so-”, Yoongi stops to speak as he sees the smile on Jimin’s face. “What is the grinning about?”

“The money was mine.”, Jimin confesses. The sudden confession made Yoongi almost choke on his water. “The money is not from the company she is working for.”

“You did what?”

“It was my wife’s plan. Don’t ask me why, but she wants them back together.”

“She would be a fool if she does.”

“Don’t call her a fool!”

“What else am I supposed to call her when she thinks like that? Besides, How does that even work? How did the company even say yes to that plan...?”

“Well, happy wife, happy life.”, Jimin sighs satisfied. “You have no clue how stressed I am if Y/N figures out that that was my money. I hope their friendship is strong enough for it.”

“What if she transfers the money to their account?”

“She can’t because the account on the paper is mine.”

“You are a smart idiot.”

“Not me, but my wife is. She made the plan.”

“Of course, you are following her like a puppy.”, Yoongi says as he rolls his eyes.

“Oh, and you are not like that when it is about your wife?” Yoongi’s movement stop as soon as he hears Jimin’s words.

“Anyway, do you have any other idea on how to help her? We both agree that she would be better off with Jungkook but we both know we cannot make that choice for her.”

“If they’d have stayed together longer, they might would have gotten the chance to.”

“What are you talking about?”, Hoseok asks as he puts his arms around his members. “Why are you guys whispering?”

“Nothing at all.”, Jimin explains as Yoongi walks away.

“Good. Don’t destroy the good vibes we finally have in this studio.”, Hoseok warns.

“We are not about to.”, Jimin answers as he walks up to the other members.

💧💧💧

“Jungkook, can you stay a moment.”, Tae requests, as his mind still refuses to allow him a breather. Too many questions annoy him, and too many concerns run through his head. While waiting for everyone else to exit the room, Jungkook packs his belongings in his bag and throws it over his shoulder as he moves closer to Tae. “I think I need to say something out loud.”

“Out loud? I am listening.”

“I want Y/N to be happy as much as I want to be back with her. But I came to the realization, I cannot have her if she does not feel for me anymore.”

“Well, talk with Y/N. I cannot help you with that.”

“I am not asking for help or anything like that but, I need to know where you two are at right now.”, Tae says with a sad voice. “Be honest with me.”

“I already told you everything.”

“Is there anything else you might have not mentioned yet?”

“Listen, I think, I will always feel for Y/N in the way I do and the longer I lived with her, the more protective of her I got. I realized that my love for her is not as good as I hoped.”

“What are you trying to tell me?”

“I will tell you the same thing I told her. If she wants to go out with me, I am happy to do so. But if it is not me who makes her happy, we are better off as friends.”

“You really said that to her?”

“Yeah.”, Jungkook sighs. “I am feeling hurt and sad but, I can’t use her situation to benefit from it nor can I do it to you. Even though you would deserve to go through hell.”

“Thanks, Jungkook.”, Tae says as he holds his hand towards him. “Let’s restart from here.”

“A handshake?”, Jungkook asks surprised. “What for?

“A handshake to our friendship.”

“To... our... friendship? You want to restart?”

“I know you can’t forget nor can anyone who is involved in what I did, but I want to do better. You helped Y/N, when she needed help. She is the mother of my children, and you helped my children as well. That is what a true friend does.” For a brief moment, it seemed like manipulation to Jungkook, but it sounded too genuine to be a trick.

“Okay.”, Jungkook says as he shakes Tae’s hand. “But the very next bad thing you do to her or your kids, will be the last time we were friends.”

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wellhalesbells · 6 months

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4, 7, 29, 44!

4. Is there a book that you think needs a bigger fandom??

I really loved Nicki Pau Preto's Crown of Feathers series and the fact that there's not at the very least more aesthetics/fanart of it is genuinely shocking to me. I loved it and it has some of the best tropes in it, ones that tumblr especially drools over. That's just one that's never really made sense to me because I know it hits the right buttons so wth?

7. Do you borrow books from people??

I would but I am definitely the person borrowed from 99% of the time. Occasionally my parents will hand over a book they'll think I like but I'm the one who has a library (I saw somewhere that technically a library is over 1,000 books and between WA and FL, I qualify) so I'm the one loaning out almost always.

29. Have you ever bought a book because the cover was so nice??

Um..... that is almost exclusively the way I buy books now (especially since I have so many and I've been way better about getting books from the library this year so if I buy one it's because it's got some beautiful siren song that I cannot resist [sprayed edges, I'm a slut for sprayed and stenciled edges]) and I am horrific about buying special editions. It's definitely my worst vice. I keep getting Bookish Box entire series that I haven't read before because they are just SO. GORGEOUS. and so far I am 1-2. I've loved one and hated two, haha.

44. Favourite book quote, go.

Oh, I have three right off the top!!

“Does such a thing as 'the fatal flaw,' that showy dark crack running down the middle of a life, exist outside literature? I used to think it didn't. Now I think it does. And I think that mine is this: a morbid longing for the picturesque at all costs.” - Donna Tartt, The Secret History

“Emotions, in my experience, aren't covered by single words. I don't believe in "sadness," "joy," or "regret." Maybe the best proof that the language is patriarchal is that it oversimplifies feeling. I'd like to have at my disposal complicated hybrid emotions, Germanic train-car constructions like, say, "the happiness that attends disaster." Or: "the disappointment of sleeping with one's fantasy." I'd like to show how "intimations of mortality brought on by aging family members" connects with "the hatred of mirrors that begins in middle age." I'd like to have a word for "the sadness inspired by failing restaurants" as well as for "the excitement of getting a room with a minibar." I've never had the right words to describe my life, and now that I've entered my story, I need them more than ever. ” - Jeffrey Eugenides, Middlesex

“Spiritual but not religious,” Zachary clarifies. He doesn’t say what he is thinking, which is that his church is held-breath story listening and late-night-concert ear-ringing rapture and perfect-boss fight-button pressing. That his religion is buried in the silence of freshly fallen snow, in a carefully crafted cocktail, in between the pages of a book somewhere after the beginning but before the ending.” - Erin Morgenstern, The Starless Sea

#that donna tartt quote it just SOLIDIFIES CHARACTER in oNE FUCKING LINE #you know everything about them from ONE. LINE. and it's such a dividing line too #like you can either find that enthralling or grotesque (both totally acceptable)#and i am EN. THRALLED. by it #!ask

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madisonsstyles · 2 years

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the 21st night of September…. there are tears in his eyes. there’s are tears in my eyes. words cannot even begin to describe how proud i am of our Harry. tonight he made history. tonight he ended his 15 consecutive nights at MSG for Love On Tour. i’m struggling to find the words to express how proud i am right now, and how seeing him so happy and emotional makes me feel. Harry Styles, you will never know the extent of our love. you will never know just how proud we are of you. you will continue to make history as one of the biggest staples in music. one day there will be a documentary movie about you, just like Elvis. people will write more books. your light will never, ever go out. the joy you bring to your fans is unmatched. thank you for everything, endlessly. i love you. so so much. so much. thank you thank you thank you

#harry styles #harries #harry edward styles #harrys house #love on tour #hslot22 #hslot new york #hslot #msg #harry styles msg #madison square garden #harry styles pics #harry styles photos #madison beer

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k3rm1e · 3 years

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heyo!! i was wondering if you would mind writing hc’s for a reader who just had a major accomplishment but their parents don’t really congratulate them or anything, and then philza celebrates with them instead and tells reader how proud he is. i kinda want some dadza comfort rn :’) anyway, thank you sm!! have a great day <3

accomplishments

hello anon! i’m sorry i took a while to answer this. i went a bit off track with this and got A LOT more angsty, so i’m really sorry about that. If you want me to make a much more fluffier or mellowed-out version, i’d be happy to. please, read the trigger warnings before reading this.

i don’t plan on writing more angst-y things like this, especially not this angsty, so don’t worry. once again, please, if you would like me to rewrite this into a less emotional version i’d be happy to

cw: swearing

tw: talk of god and the church, slight manipulation, repetition of words

accomplishments:

holy shit. you were in disbelief. a state of shock. one million twitch followers. one. million. followers. you were silent. shock can have many effects on a person. some scream and laugh out of joy, or a misplaced sense of mania. others cry, because they cannot handle it. some remain confused, because their brains are unable to conceptualize the event. you were silent.

what should you do? would a “thank you” tweet be good enough or would it come off as insincere? should you wait to stream? or would that make people feel you didn’t care because you took so long? through the anxiety you could feel the true realization that you now had one million followers. like a truck, you were hit with the most excited feeling ever. getting up, you jumped around your room. you spun and jumped and cheered and whooped and yelled and smiled and danced and were overflowing with joy, with the acknowledgement that you had done it, you had really fucking done it.

opening the window above your desk, without a single fuck, you screamed. “WHOOOOOOOO!!!!!!! FUCK YEAH!!!!!!” let’s just hope your neighbors don’t wake up.

you stayed up all night, celebrating. tweeting out a thank you, you received congratulations from your fans and friends while you talked with the people in your discord vcs.

in the morning, your mother and father had woken up. with a newfound determination, you ran downstairs. streaming was your passion and you wanted to tell the world what you had done. but, because of limitations, your mother was your metaphorical world.

“mom! mom! mom! mother, mother, mumther!!” you shouted, dashing down the stairs, tripping over your feet. stupid wood flooring and slidy socks.

from your place at the bottom of the stairs, you heard her sigh, “yes, sweetie?”

you bounded over to her, setting your arms on the kitchen counter. from the hallway you could see your dad, who was sitting on the couch drinking his sunday morning coffee. “mom! guess what?” without giving her time to respond, you shouted, “i hit one million follows on twitch! one freaking million!”.

your mother didn’t seem as enthusiastic as you. “is that why you were causing such a ruckus last night? and, watch your mouth, even though ‘freaking’ isn’t a ‘true’ curse, i don’t want you swearing. especially not on the lord’s day. i couldn’t fathom going to church everyday, only to allow you to have a mouth like that.” she continued to stare at her work papers.

“oh, uh, okay mother. dad? did you hear me? i hit one million on twitch.” you awkwardly turned your head over to your father.

“she’s right, you know that, don’t you sweetie?” your father stood up, and made his way into the kitchen. “language like that, it’s shameful. surely, we don’t need you to have a private session with father paulson, do we?” your dad stood next to your mother, rubbing her back as he stared at you.

“no, no, of course not. um, i’m gonna go upstairs now.” you turned around, wishing you could simply disappear.

“without breakfast? are you truly that upset with us? we can’t have you ending up like those people, committing sinful acts and going to hell. god would never forgive you. we’re already taking a risk allowing you to stream, putting yourself out there.”

both your mother and father stared at you. your blood felt like ice in your veins. the white walls of your house seemed so much brighter, yet duller at the same time. everything felt a white-pure-pink-orange. your breathing got uneasy. choppy. in, out, out, in, in, in, out, in, in, out, out for different increments of time. 5, 3, 2, 7, 10, 9, 6, 4, 1, 6, 8, seconds, over and over and over.

“we just wanna protect you, dear. we love you, don’t you get that?” your mother stared at you.

you felt like a scene in those movies. the ones that directly cater to teens who thought their lives were shit when in reality they just hadn’t grown up enough to make sense of something yet. were you one of those teens? or is this actually wrong. you don’t think it is, but you don’t talk to others about this. family matters stay in the family was a common phrase repeated in your household. the church was family, they could know. your mother and father, they could know. others, they must not know, never know.

“of course, mother, father.” you wanted to force yourself to speak, but syllables were incapable of getting past your lips. your mouth was full of peanut butter from the sandwiches served in your elementary school cafeteria. but, the partly frozen chocolate milk always washed it down. “of course. i love you guys too. love you.” you smiled, a disgusting smile that felt violating to exist on your face, violating, violating, violating.

you dashed up the stairs, to your room, up, up, up. running in, you wanted to slam the door, scream out the window, puch your pillow, smash your pc, cry, whatever you could do to get out your emotions. but instead, you lightly shut your door and slowly walked over to your desk chair to see who was online. you would go live later. it was only 5 AM, after all. they could wait. at least, you hoped they could.

opening discord, just to see what everyone was doing, you saw philza minecraft was online. you went over and messaged him, ‘phil. philza. philza minecraft. vc please?’ in response, you received a short, ‘sure m8, gimme a minute’ you waited, until you heard the noise confirming he had joined.

“good morning phil.” your energy from before had receded back into the confines of your chest. the prior excitement was gone and replaced with a feeling of fatigue.

“morning mate, how are you? congrats on the one mill!” phil sounded excited, happy for you. you smiled, chuckling a bit.

“i’m alright man, just tired. how are you? and, thanks for the congrats.” you smiled, feeling the fatigue set in.

“i’m good. but you, you don’t sound very good. couldn’t sleep, could ya’? that was how i was when i hit one mill. way too excited to sleep.”

“yeah. yeah, i’m just tired.” you were getting a bit too tired to talk. the day had barely started, and yet the full-body emotional exhaustion had set.

“‘just tired’? the hell happened kid?” phil’s voice sounded concerned. fuck. the last thing you wanted to do was worry him. he had his own life and you had already caused enough trouble today.

“it’s nothing big phil, seriously. just my parents.” there, a slight bit of information. family matters still within the family, just a few words.

“they being shitbirds? or are you lying, and something big did happen?” he was being inquisitive, which was dangerous. questions were dangerous.

“no, why would i lie?” his inquisitiveness would continue, you knew. so you spilled the metaphorical beans. “they just, just weren’t as supportive as i’d wished they were when i told them. i was really psyched, y’know? and them, just sort of, not giving a shit? i don’t know man, it just feels bad.”

“i get you. it’s shit, when people don’t care about your accomplishments. my parents never really saw streaming as a true profession in the beginning, which led to shit like you describing. i promise it gets better though, even if it feels like shit now. and, for what it’s worth, i’m proud of you.”

“it’s fine phil, you don’t need to try to make me feel better. i’m okay, seriously.” you didn’t need or want his pity. accepting it would feel patronizing.

“no, you need to understand that i’m not fucking around. one million is a big fuckin’ thing, especially for you who hasn’t been streaming all that long to achieve. it’s fucking amazing, mate. be proud of yourself, for christ’s sake.” his fake anger chimed through your headphones. even though you were being berated, you still felt better.

“thank you, phil. i needed that.”

“your welcome, mate. and look, anytime your parents are being shit, don’t try to hold it all in. call me, or wil, or someone, okay? don’t hold that shit in.”

you fake sighed, just to piss him off. “okayyyyyy….”

“good. now, go take a nap or some shit. i love you, kid.”

“love you too, dadza.” this time, your words didn’t feel forced. the smile on your face wasn’t violating, but an invitation to better times. it would be alright. okay.

#mcyt x reader #mcyt x reader angst #philza x reader

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en-amours · 3 years

Text

loser (affectionately).

☼ park sunghoon x reader; pure fluff, established relationship au.

sometimes, the definition of love is really just laughing over your soulmate nearly falling on their face and challenging them to a racing competition in a public ice rink (where everyone is prone to accidents).

warnings: none

notes: this is what happens when you indulge too much in what was supposed to be just a quick bullet scenario but kept on returning to it until it became a full-fledged drabble :D this is sunghoon’s part in the “ooh, you wanna kiss me so bad” req i’m writing! hope y’all enjoy <3

♡ — taglist: @yoshinung @cyberhwng (tumblr won’t let me tag y’all for some reason :<) @stargirlstories @lovelycharm05 @honeyju

wordcount: 1.1k

Being with Park Sunghoon feels like getting whisked into the streets of a city brimming with life and light; like witnessing the first breath of winter unfurl upon the shimmering rooftops of your hometown; the sweet rush of euphoria as the wind breaks through your hair on impulsive afternoon drives, skyline in view—it’s been two summers, but he still takes your breath away like the first time you met on that lonely spring day.

You cannot describe half of the magic he invokes in your chest when you meet his eyes, when he intertwines his hands with yours as he walks with you along the streets populated with fragrant honeysuckles into the quaint café tucked behind the old bookstore downtown, when you see his eyes turn into crescent moons in a solemn spot beside the Han River, or any moment you share with him in these spontaneous little meet-ups when time finally decides to spare a little mercy to one more pair of starcrossed lovers. Even if you try, there is nothing more impossible than describing all the things Sunghoon makes you feel.

That and you think he’s an absolute monster for laughing at you as you try to avoid your near-death, you hurl your glove at his face, holding onto the rare space near the railings in your town’s public rink, and Sunghoon’s laughter ceases as your glove hits him square in the face.

“Deserved,” you state, gaining enough balance to push away from the barrier, you deliver a gentle slap to his shoulder with a half-hearted glare. “Boyfriends are supposed to help you out when you nearly get run over by a group of prepubescent kids, not laugh at your demise.”

“I just thought that your vision wasn’t as bad as I thought it was,” he reasons with a smug smile, putting your glove back on, but his hand doesn’t leave yours. “Plus, weren’t you an athlete before?”

“I haven’t been on the ice since the ninth grade, genius,” you huff, “it won’t come rushing back to me after a minute of skating around.”

Gently, Sunghoon pulls you closer, and you will never get used to seeing his eyes in close proximity, how they sparkle softly beneath the blinding luminance of a thousand dangling lights, yet you think it isn’t the lights that’s making him brighter. Your breath hitches, and he breaks into a smile. “But you’re okay now, right?”

“Y-Yeah. Why? What’s up?”

“Nothing. Just wanted to make sure,” he shrugs, and you try to assess his nonchalance, but he is skillful in calibrating his façade so you drop your efforts, and as snow graces the world in gentle whirls, joy paints his ribs golden and his heart plays a rapid boomboomboom because he’s seeing his two greatest loves together and warmth settles between his ribs and says, I am home.

—————

Ten minutes have never felt this short before.

Quietly, you marvel over the unbridled excitement that glazes Sunghoon’s eyes, that pools in his palms and taints his cheeks in a lovely glow. His steps are a ghost of all the programs he’s inscribed into his bones, he flashes you a grin after he performs a spin, and you’re about to commend him when a kid whizzes past you at Sonic-level speed, hysterical with laughter. Thus begins the formation of an idea.

“...woah,” Sunghoon breathes out as returns beside you, but both of your eyes still follow the kid, “I hope they don’t slip—or accidentally run over someone’s hand.”

“Yeah… that’d be disastrous,” there’s a clip of anticipation in your tone, and Sunghoon shares an expectant look with you. Silence. But then you ask:

“Wanna race me?”

He starts bolting along the sides of the rink without warning, the implication of a competition enough to propel him forward without any remorse; with an outraged cry, you follow suit.

(In hindsight, maybe going against a former speed skater is a bad idea but Sunghoon would rather lick the pavement than let you—his universe, the love of his life—think that he was giving up easily.)

You catch up to him quickly, the cold wind biting your cheeks raw, but hearing Sunghoon’s laugh feels like liquid electricity in your veins. “You know you’re going to lose so hard, right?”

“As if I’d ever let that happen,” he huffs, nimbly dodging a wobbly couple, and you chuckle softly.

“It’s cute how you think you can beat me.”

Your words add more coal to the fire, but part of Sunghoon is surreptitiously delighted that you think he’s cute. “Ooh, you just wanna kiss me so bad, don’t you?”

After two minutes you end up beating him anyway, and you come up to him with a grin that makes him think he can hold the world in his bare hands (are you even aware of the things you do to him? And even if you are, would you still have been this cruel?).

“I told you so,” you grin, hands fixing your scarf; Sunghoon sees the little chips and scars littering your skin, and he realizes that he’s grown to love everything about you all the same—he adores all of you. and he hates that he does. He hates how he loves you so much (he doesn’t).

“Yeah, yeah. You don’t have to rub it in my face.”

You laugh at him softly, reaching out to brush his hair out of his eyes. his panting has transmuted into quiet breaths, and he is just as captivating as the first time you saw him—you let your hands fall to his waist, fingers dancing along to a vague holiday tune playing over bass-boosted speakers. Sunghoon traces your jaw, and he retracts his hand because his touch might make you colder, but your own one shoots up to keep his in place, wanting to keep him closer.

“You were right,” you whisper, half-defeated, half-elated by this revelation: “I do wanna kiss you. So, so bad.”

There it is again: that stupid, toothy grin of his. You didn’t ever think you would ever learn to love someone like this, but boy, you’ve fallen hard.

(Little do you know that Sunghoon has, too.)

He presses his lips against yours, softly, tentatively, and though maybe the world is just a speck of light in a macrocosm of galaxies, you are worth more than that.

You are worth everything.

When you pull away, Sunghoon laughs incredulously at your expression. “What's with the face? I thought you won?”

“Yeah, I did, but I’m also a loser in a way,” you frown, glaring half-heartedly at your soulmate.

“How so?”

“It’s you, idiot. I’m a loser for you,” a sigh leaves your mouth, and Sunghoon giggles; he places your foreheads together, and there is nothing more beautiful than him.

“That's alright, you and I can be losers together.”

#enhypennetwork #enhypenwriters #enhypen #enhypen x reader #park sunghoon #park sunghoon x reader #enhypen scenarios #enhypen imagines #enhypen fluff #park sunghoon imagines #park sunghoon fluff #enhypen sunghoon #this one’s for u sunghoon stans + ppl who have a massive crush on him

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gretchensinister · 3 years

Text

In Which I Write About August

August preoccupies me with thoughts of itself. It is and is-not. It is summer’s poltergeist.

Inside air-conditioned stores, pumpkins and ghosts and skeletons are taking up residence. Back-to-school has already happened. Outside, the implacable heat of summer wraps around my limbs. It will not be hurried on. It is not waving a tender farewell. It is the climax of summer and not the denouement.

Under the bright blue sky I melt, I burn, and August says, you always forget it feels like this.

It is a queer month. It is so much, and yet, what is it? On calendars, the month of August always seemed to be given some peculiar afterthought of a picture. June is iconic summer, July (here in America) can claim more-or-less overt independence day imagery, and then—then there is August. It’s literally back-to-school month, but such imagery belongs to September and is unlikely to be relinquished. I have seen sailboats given to August more than once, and this was always a mystery to me.

August feels…unwatched. Mid-month, students go back to school, and the spaces occupied by children in the summer can now be filled by other things. The heat keeps many others indoors, and outside, under the sun, the green things keep growing. It is not the tender riot of earlier months. August is a month of giants, of flowers that seem to appear huge and baffling overnight. Previously tame yards and beds overflow with towering blooms and I think, can that really grow here?

Can that really grow here? There is no denying it. And then the gardens, the fields! Stand back, they say, stand back. Now is neither the time for control nor killing. Our excess will be welcomed when it is time for the harvest—but what am I writing? The gardens and fields know nothing of harvest. I know of harvest, and I know that excess now is essential to life later. The plants know that now is the time to grow tall, for fruit to grow heavy and massive. There is so much life in August, even if the grass crunches a little more than it bends, even if there’s more gold and that pale ghost brown among the green. Harvest and all its deaths are for later.

Yet August is not without its darkness, without certain hints that make the jack-o-lanterns in the stores seem not quite so premature. Night’s tide has been flowing back since the solstice in June, true, but in July it was so very far out, still. The light still lingered. It was possible to get lost in a day and have gloaming not yet begun when you found yourself again. In August there is a change. The dominion of heat and light cannot be denied; summer’s potency has yet to ebb, and yet darkness is given its share of each day. The light does not linger as it did. If you get lost in an August day, bewildered by the heat or blinded by the sunshine, it is more likely than not that your equilibrium will only be regained (if it is regained) upon the sun leaving the stage for the day. September holds the equinox. August is part of the same balancing act of light and dark as October. The side with more light, but it is a dance again, not the unchallenged rout of July.

And when there’s a place for the dark again, there’s a place for monsters again. I think in August the monsters are sleepy, just waking up from hibernation, from non-existence, from wherever they were before the year turned again and spaces opened up for them once more, under trees and in the forgotten corners of cities and in minds that simply do not do all their work in the day.

I have an impulse to clarify what I mean by monsters, here, and I don’t know if I should give into it, or if I do, if I will be successful. Am I talking about actual creatures, hairy and scaly and with mouths full of teeth? Not really, though I would expect such things to appear more frequently in August than in June. But neither am I talking of only the ideas of such things.

The reality of August and the reality of monsters are both questionable. Life and work seem to go on as usual, the children are contained again, but outside is the kind of heat that people write about when they want to write about the heat driving someone crazy. And even when the heat mellows in the ever-growing night, that’s just another opportunity for unreality. It discourages sleep, draws people out of doors toward—what? There shouldn’t be anything in the night that wasn’t there in the day, and yet there is. There’s something. It’s tempting, it’s frightening, it may be the person who went outside in the night heat to begin with. It may be a monster.

At this point I think you may need to be me to completely understand what I’m talking about when I talk about monsters. That’s all right. Ambiguity is one of the tells of my monsters.

Why do I go on so about this month, this heat, the darkness that may or may not contain monsters? I was born in August, so I suppose that could excuse my mythologizing of it, but I don’t think this impulse needs any excuse. If you’ve lived through the Augusts I’ve described, how could they not take on a little mythologizing? The Augusts I’ve lived through have all been strange days, days where sometimes the heat rippling from the tops of cars is the only movement, nights where the month moves along in a sudden, disorienting lurch. What happened? What happened?

August is a time of waiting and a time of now. What I am waiting for, and what becomes manifest, comes from the sky.

Burning blue skies are not August’s only heavenly face. The ephemeral mountains of thunderheads billow into August days and they make me feel like angels should, like dragons should. Between the first note of petrichor in the air and the irresistible downpour, there will only be a few breaths. I take deep ones. There is so little to be done in an August storm, so little that needs doing. The warm water comes freely, powerfully, and the thunder with it is joy, always joy, the terrifying joy of the uncontrollable. But the joy echoes like the thunder itself. I know I don’t stop myself from laughing when the storm passes on, leaving me drenched and blinking rain out of my eyelashes under the sudden return of the sun. Am I supposed to just go on with my day after that? But I do, because it is an August day, and I cannot expect events to proceed in a way that helps me maintain my equilibrium.

But the last thing I want to say about August and its skies are the times when the rain does not come, when the ever-earlier night has settled in, with vast clouds concealing any alleviating moon or stars. Breathless nights, they are, and they hold what to me is the quintessential August light, even beyond the overwhelming day. I speak of heat lightning, those two words holding so much of August’s strange power. I admit I do not know if heat lightning is a true phenomenon, where the heat of the day engenders spontaneous lightning (without the partner of a rainstorm) at night. But heat lightning is what those distant flashes were named to me when I was small, and so those words have rung in my head ever since. Heat lightning. Always far away. The thunder it causes faint and low, if it can be heard at all. Uncanny. Sublime. An unfulfilled promise of rain, a fulfilled promise of wonder in the dark. Heat lightning. I want to bottle it in my August-born heart.

Maybe the wanting means I have.

Or maybe it just makes me a monster.

#august #rambling

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overkill-max · 3 years

Text

Wedding mini-fic

A mini-fic of what happens during and after the wedding. From the perspective of Maya’s mom.

---

Looking back at the wedding pictures, she thinks she looks out of place. She sees herself without makeup, in a plaid shirt. Having left her husband that same day. He was on a rant about Maya and her “lifestyle choices.” Katherine was cowering, just as her daughter described her. Feeling suffocated. She looked at Lane, all the anger directed towards her daughter, that would soon turn to her, and she felt herself turn into the husk she was before she left.

For an instant, she thought about Maya.

“I have to go pick up ice.” Katherine whispered. Lane did not hear her. He never heard her. Or Maya. Or Mason. Or anyone else.

She grabbed her purse and her mask and left.

She did not pick up ice.

Maya’s house was empty.

Katherine didn’t know where to go. The only other place familiar to her was the fire station.

She walked in not knowing her daughter would be admitting she forgot to write her vows. Carina mentioned that it did not matter, that it was sweet and perfect that Maya, someone who was overprepared and had lists and clipboards, had forgotten to write down a list. She was too excited to start their lives together.

“I love you, and I choose you. Forever.” Hearing her daughter say that with such joy, made her cry. Interrupting their vows. She apologized but the way that her daughter and her soon to be bride looked at her, both lighting up, let her know she made the right choice.

Maya and Carina were happy for most of their wedding.

Then they realized that another firefighter had taken her job. Or cost her the job. Katherine was still confused about how a person can get fired so casually.

She thought she would need to hold her breath. Whenever Lane was upset, she would walk on eggshells to avoid setting him off.

Maya looked betrayed and sad. But not devastated. She was not angry. Her wife excused them with a polite smile, then took her outside.

Katherine did not know if she was allowed to follow or not. She wanted to comfort her daughter. Yet it had always been hard. Maya was so much like Lane. Hiding everything away until it exploded in unhealthy ways. Lashing out. Wanting to keep everyone from seeing her in pain.

She worried about Carina.

It was a lovely wedding.

She should not have followed them, but she did.

“Maya, it’s okay.” It was soft. “Bambina, you are a fighter and so smart and strong. If this captain job is what you want, you can get it back or get another captain.”

Maya said something too soft for her to hear through the door.

“No, you are an amazing good captain. This is just them punishing you for supporting your fire fighters and not the administration… remember what you told me? Why they were afraid to do what you did?”

Katherine went back to the party.

She does not remember the rest of the party. Only what the pictures tell her.

The thing she does remember is how her daughter interrupted her own wedding to ask her friends to help her move in with them.

Even fire fighters from the other shifts helped. Five men stayed outside with Lane. The rest carried things she pointed to from inside the home she used to call hers. Packed her bags. “Mama B, you need your passport.” Carina… her new daughter in-law said.

It made the room feel smaller. Lane controlled that. He had all of that in his gun safe. In the office he kept locked up.

“Maya.” Her daughter nodded.

They were alone in the room where before she had always been too scared to move. Constantly drowning. No wonder her daughter chose to be a fire fighter. She was used to the feeling of having to work hard to breathe.

Carina talked at her. Katherine did not have the mental capacity to forms sentences or words. Still feeling on edge. Never safe. Never safe in this house.

She appreciated how at ease the other woman was. How kindly she smiled. Not in that ugly way others did. Where they pitied her. Seeing her as both a victim but also deserving of Lane’s anger for not standing up for herself. For going back.

Carina was just as she remembered her at the spaghetti dinner. Genuinely excited to spend time with her.

It made her feel uncomfortable and happy at the same time.

Even Maya’s patience with her ran thin. Often lashing out in anger. Raising her voice. Narrowing her eyes the way her father did. She was so much like him. It broke her heart to see it.

Yet, Katherine understood that. She was comfortable in that. Had lived with that.

Carina was unexpected.

Maya returned with a stack of folders and a gun.

Katherine flinched.

“Maya, no.” Her daughter-in-law commanded.

“But…” Maya tried to argue. “No. Bambina, look at your mother… look at this country… Look at what happens when you have so many guns in the house and so many fears… I don’t want that in my house.”

Maya mentioned her father. It struck a new type of fear in Katherine.

“What makes you think he cannot buy another gun if you take this one? How much angrier is he going to be if that happens?”

Katherine swallows. She hated that Lane had a gun. Feared that he would use it against her. Or worse, the kids. Maya knew that. If he was angry, he might.

Carina understood anger. Escalation. Violence. She saw blood and death. The result of things like this.

“You take your papa’s gun and you have to be ready to shoot him with it. This thing, it will not end well. Leave the gun… this is only about your mama… you take that thing into our lives and you make it about something he thinks is his. You make it into a fight.”

Maya leaves in a huff.

“You are not his. You are yours.” Carina tells her. Firm voice. Needing to be heard. Soft hands. Wanting to comfort.

She nods.

They leave.

Everyone that helps set up her room stays at their house.

“It’s the after party.” Carina shouts happily. She puts on music and begins making pasta in her wedding dress.

Warren and Bailey come from the fire station with the men and women that stayed behind to clean up.

Cases of alcohol get brought into the house and people keep drinking and dancing. Victoria sings. Maya comes out in a sleeveless shirt and sweatpants. She kisses Carina and takes the knife from her. Telling her to get comfortable.

“Please don’t angry chop my pasta.” Her daughter-in-law begs. Maya shrugs. Pretending she’s not listening. Mimicking angry chopping.

“Mama B, make sure she separates the pasta and hang it to dry.” Carina shouts, laughing as she leaves the kitchen and bumps into Andy.

The whole night was chaotic and filled with laughter and love.

Katherine wakes up early the next day. Not knowing what to do without Lane dictating every minute of her life, she lays there. Unsure of what she is allowed here. This place has her things, but it doesn’t feel like hers. It feels borrowed. Like last time.

She gets up and heads for the kitchen. Tip toeing around the place. Unsure of how quiet Maya and Carina need her to be. She is a guest.

“Suocera!” Carina enthusiastically greets her from the stove. Katherine nods. Confused. “Buongiorno.” She tries. It’s the only word she knows in Italian.

Carina laughs as she shakes her head. “Right... It… it is… you are the mother of the wife?” She asks. Not knowing the word.

“Oh. Mother-in-law” Katherine quickly fills in.

“Yes, suocera.” Carina repeats and smiles. Flipping over the French toast in the pan. Katherine stands there and Carina waves the spatula around. “I made espresso, but if it’s not your thing, you can add the water. Cups are there. Explore.”

“Can you grab me the thing?” Carina asks. Pointing vaguely behind her.

Katherine smiles. Uncomfortable. She likes the house. It is lovely. But Lane liked things to be a certain way. To stay there. For cabinets not to be opened unnecessarily.

“Uh.” Katherine stops. Looking at the counter.

“Maya, the thing! You know, the thing.” Carina says louder. Katherine freezes. Carina turns around, smiling and her face drops. She turns pale. Katherine waits for the explosion.

“I’m sorry.” Carina tells her. Voice softer. Hands moving wildly as she tries to find the words. “I’m sorry, suocera. I know when I get excited it seems like I am yelling. But I am not yelling at you. Or at Maya. I… I am not yelling.”

Katherine feels the tension in herself. In the other woman. As Carina wants to comfort her but does not step closer. She waits. Looking torn. “Boundaries.” Her therapist’s voice says inside her.

Katherine tilts her head down. Looking at the floor. She barely nods.

A small invitation is all it takes to be swept up in a tight hug. Carina pats down her hair and kisses it. “I’m sorry, suocera. I’m learning too.” Is all she says.

She cries and she is held.

The French toast burns, and Maya runs in to witness her wife running with a flaming pan, heading outside. Her mother is coughing. The water is on in the sink. Putting nothing out.

“Carina!” Maya shouts as she stares at her mom. Instead of finding the cold, angry blue she is used to, she finds worry. There is no blame. It feels like no time has passed but her daughter is different. This is not the same woman that told her she needed therapy for thinking what they went through together was abuse. For knowing it was wrong.

She runs out and takes command of the situation. Taking the hose from her wife and making sure there are no flames before heading back inside with a waterlogged piece of bread. Black from the flames. The kitchen is filled with smoke but there is no fire or damage.

Maya hugs her mother and Katherine feels like she can breathe. Even with the smoke. She cries. Her daughter had never been soft. But she changed for love. Katherine never felt strong. But she learned from her daughter. For her daughter.

She wonders what will happen if she stays. If this place becomes her home.

Katherine thinks she looks out of place. When the pictures come back.

She does not feel out of place.

Not then. Not now.

Carina is laughing beside her. Pointing out all the pictures that make her smile.

Three months feel a world away.

Katherine was worried about Maya. The offer came from Carina.

She did not want to overstay her invitation. But finding a job as a home maker that was scared of men shouting or froze at every loud noise, meant her prospects were limited. Especially in a pandemic.

She wanted to find her own place. Or even a shelter. To let her daughter build a new life without the old once holding her back. But Carina was so nice. So welcoming. She was so soft and safe that it was hard to feel bad about not trying hard enough.

Maya was different too. She was still reserved. But she was brighter. In a way she never thought Maya could be. The last time she visited there was so much anger. Denial. She was closed off and lashed out when people got too close to the core of who she was. So much like Lane that it hurt to look at her and see nothing but steel staring back. Cold. Lifeless.

Now she was nothing but awe and love.

Katherine liked it. She liked knowing who her daughter had become without all that pain. Without the constant pressure to achieve. To make Lane proud.

She asked, once. When Maya was not home.

Carina was direct. She never made them guess. She never hid her feelings or what she wanted. She was stubborn. And she always answered. Even when she could not find the words. She would answer. Because Carina liked clarity.

Katherine understood.

Walking on eggshells while not knowing what would set Lane off made her appreciate Carina’s openness. Even when it made her uncomfortable. Or mad at herself for not being able to reciprocate. She still liked who Carina was.

“I get to have a family again.” Carina shrugged. Passing the sheet of pasta through the metal press.

Katherine waited. Carina was the daughter that she always imagined other parents had. She giggled easily and gossiped. Filled the silences with laughter and words.

“I did have a family. But it was before. Then mama left and I stayed so Andrea could go. And it was just papa and me. He was so angry, and their marriage was so terrible that I hated the idea of family… but then…” She smiled softly.

“Then Maya became my home and family was something I missed… I… in Italy… you are expected to move with your husband’s family. To have your suocera and their nonna and all these people constantly in your life… I wanted to have that…” Katherine nods.

“I know it’s selfish to want you to stay. Americans, you like your life to be individual and separate and borders and very yourselves. But… I feel like a momma chicken. I like all of the people I love in my house. In my roof. Happy and in each other’s life… it feels… warm. Like a home.” Carina shrugs. Cutting the pasta into small sheets.

Katherine smiles. Liking the idea that family, home, could be something other than what both her and her daughter have known. What her daughter-in-law has known. That it could be built on new traditions. Starting with a wedding she was underdressed for but still belonged in.

#station 19 #carina x maya #carina deluca #maya bishop #katherine bishop #my fanfic #my drabbles #short character study #I am excited for mama b living with carina and maya #marina #yes the firehouse is taking place of the restaurant #just go with it

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notactivehereanymorebye · 2 years

Text

posting all of seishin’s preview monologues here for my own convenience

Life and death are two sides of the same coin, good or bad. In spite of that, Megumi-chan’s death broke my heart. She had pictured a future of joy and sadness, and though it was close at hand, she wasn’t able to escape the impression of having that unjustly taken from her by someone.

Contamination. Sudden, abnormal deaths which spread to close relatives. A phenomenon that is hard to oppose. A close contact. An exiled land. A society that handles its internal affairs in solitude. Ties to the family and the region which complicate it. Buried customs. If this helps to spread the disease, undoubtedly, this town will perish.

Demons. Within this town, those who have passed away with regret or a grudge rise from their grave and throw the village into tragedy. The dead wander, spreading death in their wake. They awaken from the fir, and descend the slopes of the underworld towards the people swarming towards the dim light, while clinging to their indolent dreams.

Within the town, the disease is catching on. That’s how it seems. But, why? It seems rather like something from the outside. The firs of the forest form a triangle which surrounds the town. Encircling the town, the demons of the forest await their chance to strike at it.

The town is surrounded by death. Or rather, it feels like it is surrounded. We felt as though a certain something was intentionally isolating us. We were confined, separated, and impeded. But by whom…

Okiagari. If we assume the existence of such a preposterous creature, we can achieve coherence with the disease. But, we lose coherence with the world at large. If we prefer coherence with the world at large, we lose coherence with the disease. In the end, we will lose coherence with the world.

In the same way every ethnicity worships a god, there are no humans who do not fear death. The fear of death forced its people to believe in something that controls it. No society can oppose death. Hence, the dead used to be a cursed being feeling death through the search for a meaning behind mortality.

Men cannot ignore death. Hence, explaining it in various ways, baring its form, they tried to move it from the unknown to the known. Okiagari were a result of that. That’s why their legendary existence cannot be verified, it seems.

Those who died as prey will resurrect as a predator and spread the taint themselves. The undead… A corpse confirmed of its death… But…. It awakened… It moved and it acted. Choosing its victims, attacking them, and ridding us of our sense of peace. They are the Shiki.

A leader whose basis is formed through bias and conjecture will lose trust from his people. The louder you begin to scream, your people will oppose you more and become negative to your views. But, the words from Ikumi-san describe the situation more than she realizes.

Sunako used the expression “forsaken by God”. She was right. When Sunako betrayed the divine providence that does not allow for the dead to rise, she turned into a being that God had forsaken. Attacking humans, seeking vain display and opposing God’s order, her life is lived trapped in a logic of hostility.

If one wanted to save the village, there is nothing one should be unwilling to do. The village… does not have this luxury anymore. In order to save the village, they have no choice but to participate in the eradication of the Shiki. Even so, there are people quibbling over how it is to be done. I cannot understand them.

I, who is no Shiki, treat the lives of men and Shiki as more or less the same. It appears to me that my behavior has transcended that of humans. I look at men and Shiki alike from a distance, the bird eye view of God. I am no more than a human, though. Now the answer is obvious.

Man is isolated from those around him. As long as I relate myself to others, I can control nothing. How can such a person be expected to understand others? Why do all of them stumble where they don’t expect it? Man is a bitter creature. Trapped in the darkness of ignorance, it cannot escape.

Precisely because of our childish wishes… we are burdened until the wishes are grave and principled. The wilderness adoring the fertile heartland is the same. We long for something… that will embrace, protect and wrap us in it, no matter whether we are Shiki or human. I wonder if there are some… who have managed not to wish for this.

There is no doubt anymore that the village has been thrown into a crisis by the Shiki. Help is necessary. The village is doomed if nobody will act. Even so, I am as angry as ever that the choice is between dying and killing the Shiki. There is darkness somewhere within myself.

Those who used to fear sin have all too quickly grown used to it. For while there is no punishment attached to sin, there is no harm in it. It takes a little time to realize that is wrong. Yet, in the same vein, they will soon remember to sever their empathy, and come to tell what is prey and what isn’t.

I am a victim who was robbed of his father. For that reason I should be cursing the Shiki. However, there is no anger in my heart. What exists there instead is something akin to pity. It probably grieves Sunako to kill others. Such thoughts are what leads me astray.

By now, I don’t have the right to expect help. I don’t want to think about salvation in its place. I cannot convince myself that I will be saved by humans should I act like them. Even if I don’t cooperate with the Shiki, there is no questioning that I deserted to their side. I wished to see the village die.

Criminals can be isolated from society. They are given a chance to rehabilitate themselves. The Shiki have no such prospect, however. Being cut off from their prey means they will starve and perish. Assuming there is no remedy for this trait, it is just punishment for a criminal who is fated to kill again.

If the mob comes rushing in, I must protect Sunako, even if I’m killed. Perhaps I’ll be able to carry her away. If Sunako falls into her sleep, it will likely be our parting. At the very least, may that night fall gently. Om.

“I don’t want to starve and die.” Is that truly a sin so great one must be staked? Men, too, rob animals of their lives in order to pull through. Even so, what men do is acceptable, yet what Shiki do isn’t? Is it a sin to be alive in this world? Precisely that is the sin they are guilty of.

This is the truth of the world. The peaceful world which takes order and orderly men for granted. They reject the very existence of those who oppose order, lacking the strength to accept them. Bearing their fangs, they cast them out. Only by doing so are they able to maintain their thin facade. Such a fragile world.

#♡: a sunday smile #god shiki is so good.#i've been meaning to compile all of these for a while but i only just now got struck with the need to hyperfocus on that task #i opted to write okiagari instead of the risen because it's more coherent to me

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365days365movies · 3 years

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March 21, 2021: Orlando (1992)

Tilda Swinton...confuses me.

Like, in a good way. Because Tilda may be the most versatile actor working today. I mean, look at the goddamn filmography, and you’ll see what I’ve mean. I’ve seen Tilda Swinton in a lot, surprisingly, and I don’t think anything I’ve seen was bad. For example, I am an ARDENT defender in the portrayal of the Ancient One in the MCU.

I understand the controversy here, but I actually think this is excellent casting. Especially considering...being comic book-accurate would NOT have been a good idea with this role, if we’re trying to AVOID controversy. But Tilda Swinton FUCKING KILLED IT in this role, and I will always be happy for this choice.

Let’s see, there’s Jadis in the Narnia films, as shown at the top, there’s Snowpiercer, as Mason (an amazing character, and an acting job that Swinton disappears into), Moonrise Kingdom as Social Services, The Grand Budapest Hotel as Madame D., and Gabriel in Constantine. Which is a good segue to the next talking point...

Gabriel is pointedly androgynous, and honestly, Tilda Swinton kind of is as well. You may have noticed that I haven’t used any pronouns in referencing to Tilda Swinton, entirely out of respect. Gonna be a little hard to keep up with, so I’ll be using she/her from here on out, only because those are the pronouns that Swinton’s most recently promoted for herself. She’s also referred to herself as queer of some variety, as well as being famously gender non-conforming.

Which is fitting, given that a lot of that public image began with today’s movie, one of her first big roles. I’ll be revisiting Swinton in the independent movie scene in a couple of months, but this may be a good introduction. Instead of spoiling anything off the bat, I’m gonna jump right in. And so, I present: Orlando. SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Recap (1/2)

We begin with a young man named, well, Orlando (Tilda Swinton), a young man with a feminine appearance and a good upbringing. His name means power land and property, but all he really wants is company. He writes and rests by a tree in the day, but falls asleep by mistake. When he wakes up, he runs back to where he’s meant to be, with a tribute to Queen Elizabeth I (Quentin Crisp) playing in the background. And that’s a REAL song, by the way, actually sung in the 1600s for Elizabeth! Very neat.

A title screen flashes, reading “1600: Death”, and we see where Orlando is meant to be. He speaks poetry for the Queen and her court, but is interrupted by the aged queen, who asks whether or not his poem is appropriate for her presence, as the poem is about youth, and Queen Elizabeth is not that. Orlando’s father (John Bott), who is serving as host to Elizabeth, intervenes on his behalf. However, it doesn’t seem to matter to the Queen, as she invites Orlando back to England to serve as her “favourite”. He accepts, and soon lives alongside the Queen. She quickly promises Orlando much land and property, for him and his heirs, but on one condition: that he does not fade, wither, or grow old.

The same wish cannot be applied to Elizabeth herself, nor to his father, as both grow old and die soon afterwards. Fast forward 10 years, and it’s a cold winter in England. Visiting Orlando’s vast estate is a woman from Russia, named Sasha (Charlotte Valandrey), and Orlando quickly falls for her. This is to the dismay of Euphrosne (Anna Healy), his fiancée? I’m not sure, to be honest, but they’re definitely involved, and she’s definitely upset.

However, this is also a scandal for everybody else as well, not just because Orlando’s already engaged, but also because Sasha is Russian, during a particularly poor economic period for the country. Euphrosne angrily throws his ring back at him, and Orlando speaks directly to the audience, telling us that a man must follow his heart. The two go to his private cottage, and they start to make out, when Orlando suddenly comes down with intense melancholy.

Because this is such great happiness that he feels, but this happiness too will one day end. Which is, like, the most emo-shit I’ve ever heard, but I’m kinda here for it. And yet, that happiness does indeed end, when Sasha is forced to return to Russia, despite Orlando’s pleading for her to stay. He asks her to meet him at London Bridge, so that they may elope together.

Later, Orlando happens upon a performance of Othello, noting to us that it’s a terrific play. This is as the death of Othello is being played out, so that’s probably foreshadowing, right? Anyway, Orlando leads two horses through the thick fog, waiting for Sasha to arrive and come away with him. But as a storm sets in, there is no sign of Sasha. And Orlando stands there in the rain. Said rain, though, soon becomes ice, underneath his feet, floating away down the river, along with his hopes of a happy future with Sasha. The treachery of women, according to Orlando.

Over the next week, Orlando languishes in his bed, asleep for the entire time. Increasingly more servants are brought up to try and rouse him, only for him to remain asleep, no matter what they do. But then, he wakes up, noting that he can only conjure three words to describe women, none of them worth explaining.

Forty years later, and the title screen cries “Poetry”! And Orlando looks exactly the same. Guess he really took that whole “don’t grow old” thing from Elizabeth to heart, huh? He speaks to a poet, Nick Greene (Heathcote Williams), and gushes about his poetry, which is a pursuit that he loves greatly. But Nick is...well, Nick is kind of a dick, to be honest. Orlando wants only to share his love and his poetry with him, but Nick’s only in it for the money. Not a true artist, and he mocks Orlando’s poetry, which he reads only after Orlando offers him money. And then, he writes a poem mocking Orlando further, which angers Orlando...but doesn’t stop the money flowing to Nick.

Orlando moves onto his next pursuit, in 1700, in the next section: Politics. Now over 100 years old, Orlando becomes an ambassador to the Ottoman Empire, and travels to Constantinople. There, he receives a somewhat rough and awkward greeting, which Orlando is not helping with. They share some Turkish coffee, Orlando has trouble drinking that Turkish coffee, they drink a LOT of Turkish coffee, and they toast to multiple things, including the “beauty of women, and the joys of love.” Orlando pauses at this, and reveals that he is still suffering quite a bit of heartbreak. His Turkish friend, the Khan (Lothaire Bluteau), bonds with him about this.

After 10 years, Orlando has fully retreated into life as a Turkish man. This is interrupted by a British emissary, sent to bring him news of a new appointment and power from the Queen. However, something goes wrong when the Khan arrives and takes Orlando hostage. The city is under attack, and the Khan asks Orlando if he will help against their enemies. Orlando agrees, and gives them arms, and heads to help himself at the walls. There, he witnesses a man dying, and it shakes him greatly. And just like before, he sleeps it off for seven days. And then...she wakes up.

YUP. WHAT.

Yeah, um, Orlando is now a woman. Like she says: “Same person, just a different sex.” Which is a very interesting premise, not gonna lie. Looks like Orlando now has to live life as a woman, which is going to be...difficult in 1700s Turkey. Or England. Or anywhere. Or any time.

Still, Orlando approaches this new life with aplomb, and without really any needed caution. Parading in some awesome dresses, she greets fellow nobility as the lady Orlando. However, the emissary from earlier, Archduke Harry (John Wood), begins to recognize her as similar to the lord Orlando.

In speaking with a group of poets, however, Orlando learns EXACTLY what men think of women in this society, and it’s not even a little bit good. She leaves, enraged and embarrassed. Harry also speaks with her, assuming that she was a woman all along. However, Orlando’s in EVEN MORE shit, as she’s quickly served with papers that are an attempt to take away all of her property and titles, because Lord Orlando is legally dead, and Lady Orlando is a woman, which one of them says is basically the same thing. FUCKIN’ YIKES, BRUV.

Ah, but Harry tries to help by proposing to her ON THE FUCKIN’ SPOT. He believed that Orlando was perfect as both genders, and is happy to do it. However, Orlando understandably refuses, and after Harry tells her that she will die as a spinster, alone and dispossessed, she runs into a nearby hedge maze. And while in the hedge maze, time passes, and her outfit changes to match the period accordingly.

Forward 140 years now! The year is 1850, and a new chapter begins: Sex.

And as she runs from the maze, she runs into who else...but Shelmerdine (Billy Zane), a man who...Shelmerdine? SHELMERDINE? What fuckin’ witch cursed his entirely family line to have THAT name? That’s the kind of family that was named AFTER a bridge, not the other way around! WHAT KINDA NAME IS FUCKIN’ SHELMERDINE?

Well, I’ve looked it up now, and it is apparently a real name. So, if any Shelmerdines are reading this...I mean, I’m sorry, but also, FUCKIN’ SHELMERDINE? OK, back to Shelmerdine. He’s twisted his ankle falling off his horse, and Orlando is now taking care of him. She reveals, in the process, that she’s about to lose everything. The reasons for that aren’t quite said, but Shelmerdine offers a place at his side, back to the great free land of America.

After having a conversation about the roles of men and women in the world (which is interesting given the context of the film in general), the two fulfill the chapter’s imperative. And we never see the act, but we do get some interesting angles and hand-holding. But the next morning, this post-coital reverie is interrupted by the lawyers from the Queen. The lawsuits have been settled, and Orlando has been legally declared a woman, meaning that unless she has a son, all of her possessions will be lost.

Shelmerdine (I swear, every time I say that name, a fairy gets chlamydia) leaves as well, with the southwest wind. As he heads back to America to fight for freedom, Orlando stands in the rain, facing an uncertain future, and broken fully by the politics of the time period.

And then...the sound of planes overhead. Looks like a new time period once again, heading into the periods of World Wars, and Orlando is now...heavily pregnant. OH. FUCK. Welcome to the next chapter: Birth.

We jump past the period of World War II, and to the 1990s! Orlando is presenting a book to a publisher, and he believes that the book will sell. With her young daughter in tow, she finally goes back to her old mansion, now finally able to go back after losing it 100 years prior. The narration from the beginning repeats, recontextualized for Orlando’s new life. She is over 400 years old, and finally, FINALLY...she is happy.

youtube

And that’s Orlando! I think I loved it. Real talk, this was a fascinating movie, and I’m into it. I’m very much into it. I’m sure there’s more to be gleaned from this film, but I’m glad I watched it regardless. More in the Review, though! See you there!

#orlando #orlando 1992 #sally potter #tilda swinton #billy zane #lothaire bluteau #john wood #virginia woolf #orlando film #fantasy march #user365 #365 movie challenge #365days365movies #365 movies 365 days #365 Days 365 Movies #365 movies a year #mygifs #my gifs

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90spumkin · 4 years

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Love Knows No Bounds

Summary: This is just a cute little fic about Spencer being a Dad because I feel that we were rob of that.

A/N: So what do I do with my spare time after testing positive for Covid? I write this gem instead of doing my psychology homework or editing ‘Unexpected Switch Part Three’. I hope you all enjoy this though.

Warning: None... I don’t think...I’m always scared that I’m going to forget something and not warn ya’ll so like always if you see anything please tell me!

Word Count: 1501

Spencer Reid could say the word love in multiple languages. He could give you synonyms for the word that you would have to google to even know existed. But he found it hard to describe what love felt like, especially in this moment.

As he held his precious newborn baby daughter for the very first time, he realized the love he was feeling was so overwhelming hard to describe. As he ran his thumb across the baby’s soft cheek and smiled, he came to the conclusion that this love was just a pure love. It is so different from the love he has for his wife, his mom, or his BAU team.

He looked up from the bundle in his arms to see his wife smiling from her hospital bed as she watched him bond with their baby. He smiled back and walked over and gave her a kiss on the forehead all while ushering her ‘to get some sleep’.

The nurse walks in not long after to check the vitals of his wife and daughter and she notices that he couldn’t take his eyes off either of the sleeping females. She smiled and asks, “May I ask how you came up with the baby girl’s name?”

Spencer’s smile was so big it took up most of his face as he told the nurse, “Eliza is for my wife’s mother, Diana is my mother’s name, and Faith is for the faith we had that this pregnancy would be the one we longed for after two miscarriages.”

The nurse finished checking the vitals and told Spencer, “Well it is a very lovely name.”

Spencer just kind of laughed to himself and said to himself after the nurse was long gone, “It is the loveliest name for the loveliest girl.”

——

It has been 5 years since the first day Spencer held his baby girl for the first time. And the love he felt then seems to only get stronger every day if that is even possible.

As he sits in his favorite chair reading to Eliza and listening to his wife singe while she cooks in the kitchen after long week gone due to a case; Spencer is overwhelmed once again with love.

He finishes the book only to have Eliza climb down from his lap and disappear into her room. She then comes running back with another book and says, “Please Daddy just one more?” She gives him her big brown puppy dog eyes that mirror his own and he can’t help but to sit her in his lap once more and begin reading.

All while this is happening his wife is watching and still quietly singing with a smile on her face while she to is overwhelmed with love.

————

Love can be shown in many ways and the worry and protectiveness Spencer was feeling right now was a prime example. Him and his wife new that Eliza would be special since a very young age, but it never once crossed Spencer’s mind that she would get bullied for it. He did not feel like a genius for not thinking of this considering he too got bullied in school for being “to smart”.

As Eliza sat between Spencer and his wife, he could hear her tiny sobs and her whispers of continuously asking, “Why do they hate me?”

This absolutely broke Spencer’s heart. His wife was smoothing their daughters hair down and soothingly trying to talk to her when Eliza sat up and look Spencer right in the eyes and said, “I blame you!” and stormed into her room and slammed the door.

Spencer was in so much shock that he hadn’t realized he had tears forming in his eyes. His wife got his attention and told me, “Spence go talk to her. She’s just hurt and needs her Dad no matter what she says.”

Spencer nodded, gave his wife a kiss, and walked to his crying daughters room. He knocked once he reached her door and when he got no response, he hesitantly opened the door. He found Eliza sitting on her bed with dry tear stains on her cheeks and small hiccups. She looked up as he entered, and she threw her arms around him and apologized over and over for saying what she did.

Spencer hugged his little girl back tightly and they sat on her bed and he began to tell her of all the great things she will be able to accomplish with her brilliant mind. He threw some funny stories in there so he could hear her sweet laugh and see her face brighten up as she smiled.

It did not take long till she had fallen asleep, worn out by all the crying. As he sat and watched his sweet Eliza sleep, he made a vow to do everything his power to never let her feel like this ever again.

———-

Spencer was once again recalling how love has many forms, and this time love was causing him pain. Eliza was in her 10th year of high school, and the youngest of her class she was bound to go through some phases. Well she was going through one heck of a rebellious stage.

“Eliza Diana Faith Reid get in here now!” He had to force himself to calm down trying not to get to worked up. His wife ran a hand across his back trying to calm him some before their daughter walked in.

She came into the living room and ask, “What?” with so much attitude it took everything Spencer had to not just ground her right then and there without getting an explanation for what he had summoned her for.

He held up a pregnancy test he had accidentally found while gathering the trash from her bedroom earlier that day.

“Do you care to explain why you have a used pregnancy test in your bedroom?” He asked as calmly as he possibly could.

Eliza stood there in fear, “It’s not mine I promise! Ummm, Teresa got involved with this senior and she was scared to take the test at her house, so she took it here. I did not realize she had thrown it away here. You have to believe me Dad!”

Spencer pinched the bridge of his nose as his wife says, “Teresa was here Tuesday it is very possible.”

The intelligent Doctor looked between his wife and daughter and realized that Eliza’s fear was not fear of consequences but fear of him not trusting her. Spencer nodded and whispered a small, “Okay I believe you.”

Eliza gave both her parents quick hugs before returning to her room.

Spencer practically threw himself onto the couch and his wife followed him. They looked at each other and began to laugh at the events that had just played out. Spencer thought how love had made it painful to accuse his daughter of a rebellious act, but how it made him happy knowing by the look on his daughter’s face she would never go that far to disappoint him.

——-

Love has made Spencer feel many other different emotions over the years and today was no different. As he sat watching his wife a daughter scream and jump with joy, what Spencer was feeling was pride.

His sweet Eliza was accepted to many different colleges across the U.S. and a few abroad, but none of them had been her dream school until her acceptance letter from Harvard came in.

“I can’t believe I got in! The Law School program at that!” Eliza all but squealed.

Spencer chuckled and said, “I still don’t see why you wasn’t this excited about CalTech?”

Eliza just rolled her eyes and groaned. Spencer once again chuckled and hugged his daughter and told her, “I am so happy for you and beyond proud of you baby girl!”

He looked up at his wife over their daughters’ shoulder and saw she was taking a picture to capture this love filled moment.

———-

As Spencer walked down the aisle to give his baby girl away, he remembered every moment he had with his daughter. His eidetic memory not letting him miss a single thing. He felt the same overwhelming love then as he had the first day he held her in his arms.

He stood at the alter to give his precious Eliza away to the man who would now get the chance to feel the love that knowing her brings. As he goes to part from her, she hugs him and whispers, “I love you more than you could ever imagine.” As they pull away with tears in bother their eyes he smiles and tell her, “I love you more than humanly possible.” She gives a small laugh as she joins her future husband he sits beside his wife. And she takes his hand and he kisses the crown of her head and listens to Eliza say her vows he cannot help but to agree when she says, “Love knows no bounds.”

@criminalmindzjunkie @hendersonsshadow @brooklynxnicole

#spencer reid #spencer reid fic #fic #fanfic #spencer reid dad #spencer reid fluff

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rotomgender-moved · 3 years

Text

Under the cut is the first part/chapter of it

Title: Runs in our Family

Word Count: roughly 1.5-2k I'd say

TWs: Near panic attacks, mild dehumanization of self, general ask to tag

Part One

The constant click of timers and bubbling of boiling water is what grounded them, eyes flickering about the room to watch over everything he had to. The rhythmic sound of a knife cutting through vegetables was like music to his ears, a hum rumbling through their chest added to the harmony of the kitchen. It made him feel in control, because he was. Guided merely by his memory of the recipe. Even then, he can tweek and test and try new things. It allowed them to have control over its life. It allowed it to feel safe, even when working with fire and knives and pots and pans searing red with heat.

"N, my golden friend," His Zoroark companion began from their resting position. "The noodles, you need to put them in the water." N froze for a moment, startled by the sudden reminder.

"Ah! Yes, you're right. What could I do without you, Illusion." It chuckled as its own forgetfulness, scooping the fresh noodles in careful hands and putting them into the water carefully. Setting the egg timer for a minute and a half before continuing the final preparations on the vegetables. Picking them in his hands and putting them into the sauce in a few scoops.

"You are becoming a good chef, my golden friend, but you mustn't lose yourself in your head while working with fire."

"Yes, Illusion, I am very aware. I'm working on it, I promise."

"I pray to Arceus you learn before you lose a paw."

"Hand, before I lose a hand."

"You get the picture."

Truly, N thought as he nodded to Zoroark. What could I do without you.

N let out a breath of air, turning off the fire in the stone as the timer goes off. Waiting quietly for the sauce to finish cooking. Reminding himself to take a few tablespoons of sugar and sprinkle it into the sauce, making it just that much sweeter. Waiting just for a few more moments, they have to. Reward cannot be reaped without patience, he thought, he must have patience.

To fill his time, he spread his hands up in the air in a Y shape, spinning around and humming. Fully content before he felt a sharp pain in his hand, followed by the loud BANG of the hanging pans hitting each other. N flinched, covering his ears and letting out a whine. A shiver rocked his body, but just before they could feel any tears begin to brim. A hand was placed onto his back, or a paw, moreso.

"It is alright," The voice of his pokemon cooed. "It is only cooking utensils, nothing more. Now, why don't you plate your dinner and watch some of your shows?"

They continued to nod a little, thanking the illusionist with a scratch on the chin. Which, from the aura of joy it received from Zoroark, was greatly appreciated. N turned on their heel and scooped the noodles onto a plate he already had set aside before pouring a ladle or two of sauce onto it. N had promised Mallow a few days before that he would save some extra sauce for her to use in one of her dishes. Whatever concoction she may come up with, and however much it made the trio of chefs-turned-gym-leaders angry, he was excited to see it.

As he settled down at his little table in his little kitchen, he smiled a tad. It had taken well a while for him to grow accustomed, or even willing, to live in a home. His first actions at coming to this strange new region had been to find an escape in the woods with his pokemon companions and live off nature for a month and a half. Which apparently, from what they deciphered from the angry ranting of a disgruntled Hugh and the chaotic explanation of a worried Alder. Had left his fellow Unovans with a wild goose chase to find him, having only been discovered by an odd group of children with accents he didn't quite recognize mistaking him for a new wild pokemon, thusly getting hit with a thunder wave that left him in the Pokemon Centers human unit for a little longer then N would prefer to admit.

Once they had been captured and as Nate and Rosa dubbed it, "Secured, Contained and Protected", they were subjected to an explanation that pulling an out-of-pocket disappearing act after the multiple both he, Hilbert and Hilda pulled off, wasn't the best idea. Which he understood! But it wasn't out-of-pocket. They should have expected it to run off into the woods and allowed it to. Or at least explained to those paralysis-happy children to watch out for an uncanny woodland dweller with a Zororak.

Even then, once they were captured, it was surely difficult for them to adjust. They were a pokemon, weren't they? A beast, that's what he'd always been told. No human would be able to speak with creatures that aren't fellow humans. But isn't it the same with Pokemon? So are these pokemon more human than beast, or is he more beast than human? Was it the years of isolation that made it hard to settle in an actual home all by itself, or was it the longing to run free with beasts like him?

N didn't like sitting in that question, so as it always did, it shoved it back into a deep corner of their mind and locked it in a little box with all those other heavy questions. All of the concerns and the old ideologies he forcibly shoves away and represses. It was all he could do, if he wasn't a beast or human. Then who could he be helped by?

Well, it didn't matter. It hadn't even noticed it had finished its plate of early dinner during his lamenting. Having been lazily twirling the fork in nothing for a good few moments to minutes.

"N, my golden child," Zororak began. "Why don't you tuck me away and go speak to other people. You haven't left this little ranch-house in a few days; it will do you some good." They commented, nudging N's back. The soft clacks of things such as potions, a tube for those "PokeBlocks" that a pair of twins had been gifting to everyone on the island, and pokeballs.

"That… Does sound like a good idea." N agreed quietly, fully coming out of their thoughts. "Yeah." They got up off their seat and washed the plate and other utensils he had used swiftly, before shrugging their jacket back on and stringing their hair into a ponytatail once more. If Zororak thought it was a good idea, then N might as well be convinced. This pokemon had single-paw-dedly helped raise him from infancy to now. Always having found its way back to him. N thought of it as a mother and as they say. Mother knows best.

As he exited his home and was met by warm sunshine, he suddenly remembered why they had been so intrigued by the woods and all its inhabitants for oh-so-long. Or well, the week they had been there before they were hospitalized by four sneaky, pokemon hunting children. They couldn't be mad, though. They were apparently uncanny looking, Hilbert having described him as "a bit to long and a little too fluffy, with speech so fast he might as well just be making noises."

But N didn't mind, it simply thought itself as far more built for the wild than the others. But… Thinking about it, that could be the reason why everyone though that of him. As N walked, staring down at the grass in thought. He felt his shoulder bump someone running by.

"Watch it, tall-ass!" A quite foulmouthed voice sounded, making N's eyes flicker to the redhead who was already making a getaway.

"Language!" They simply called back, rolling their eyes, hearing a distant "shut up!" as they made distance with the redhead. "Rude child." He decided, looking up to glance around the circle of homes that they had all settled in during this odd meet up. In a region that nobody seemed to have heard of, at that. It felt weird, it was weird. Why did any of them trust it?

Well, it should speak for itself. It went along, even if dragged on by his group of siblings-by-spirit. Chattering away that if they were all going, he was coming along. That they had already packed everything for him, and that if he refused they'd just sleep powder him and take him along anyway-

Why did I not run off? They thought, realizing the slight horror of that situation. Those kids were needlessly pushy in trying to get N to talk to new people. Dragging him about the cruiser they were in with all the other guests. Introducing him to some of the other kids that Nate and Hugh had already dragged into their mischief.

What were those kids names? Barry and Sapphire, he believes. Sapphire was that young lady who's brother had given him the tube of pokemon candies, if he remembers. Barry was a talkative young boy who seemed to immediately jump ship to play along with Nate and Hugh's pranks. He also remembers a handful of other faces, a married couple he vaugly remembers seeing on a few news casts back in Unova, Red and Green were their names. Along with another lady he didn't recognize, who took quickly to chatting along with Hilbert and Hilda. Rosa had been coaxing a green haired boy out of his shell with who he thinks was Sapphire's brother.

He remembers a few other faces. A circle of kids all taking part in pokemon trading under Lance's watch. Bianca and Cheren, listening to a young boy, chitter away about his brother. Two boys nearly tearing at eachother, and not in a pokemon battle, while their supposed companions either encouraged it or tried to seperate them. One of them was that redhead who had swore at them, he thinks.

But most importantly, he met Mallow and Guzma on that ship. The only two he confidently remembers the names and faces of. Mallow was a sweet woman, a trial captain. She had seen his shivery, nervous nature and pulled him aside from the crowd. He had listened to her talk about cooking and asked a few questions himself. Which is where that interest began. Guzma was… well he can only say he was Guzma. Rough around the edges yet smooth in the soul type, who had introduced him to N's first new species of pokemon in a while. A very, very polite and well mannered Gollisapod. He could sense even before listening to the pokemon that it was well cared for.

It further made their heart pull, obviously the pokemon was battle-scarred. One or two chips on its shell that were healing overtime. But still so… Happy. Pokemon Battles weren't that bad, he knew that. But the confirmation that it was all okay was still nice.

"Hey, you!" A voice snapped him from his thoughts, making him turn. "Yeah, you! Take a few steps back. You almost walked yourself off a cliff."

"Oh- why thank you! I didn't even notice."

"Obviously you didn't," He snorted a little. "You're that N guy that Rosa was telling me about! I'm Ruby, I was out trying to see some new pokemon. But all I caught was you almost about to take a trip off a cliff." Ruby rolled his eyes.

"Well, I was lost in thought. Thank you again for catching me, Ruby. Though I'm sure I would've survived a fall into some sand." N shrugged, examining Ruby as the boy nodded over his shoulder.

"Well… Maybe as a thank you, you could come to the community house where all of us trainers are. Rosa said you had some pretty cool Pokemon that you never let anyone touch the PokeBalls of. It's gotten the group talking." Ruby smiled, eyes crinkling. N paused in thought, feeling the pokeball in his hand he recognized as Zororaks. It wanted them to talk to other people… So they might as well. Even if the idea of presenting their pokemon to people they didn't know made their stomach twist.

"... Okay, alright. I will. Lead the way, Ruby."

#ranger writes #pkmn posting #runs in our family fanfiction #hi :]#feel free to ask questions about it lolz

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whump-tr0pes · 3 years

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I need to gush about Honor Bound for a bit, I apologize for how long this might get, but I figured it can’t be too wrong to show gratitude for something you hold dear! I found Honor Bound through the “Bleeding through the Bandages” chapter in book 4. I got into whump around that time, mainly as a coping mechanism for my own pain, and I saw that chapter pop up on my dashboard and I didn’t really consider it was part of a bigger story and I needed a distraction so I was like, might as well. And then it ended up being the best depiction of what I was feeling that I’ve ever read; not just the pain, but the frustration, and the exhaustion, and the mind-numbing boredom shown in other chapters too. I read the previous chapters of book 4 and then decided I wanted Context and also More Sam and then I read the first three books in two days. And then I reread them all in one day because I needed to reprocess the journey that was. And then I reread all of them again with book 4 when it finished, and then religiously followed book 5 through the worst time I’ve ever had, and reread the previous books multiple times as 5 was updating as well. Needless to say it quickly became my comfort series, and on multiple occasions waiting for a new chapters was one of those little joys that kept me going. I am so, so thankful I found it when I did. The Honor Bound family is like no other found family, at least to me. All of them are such complex individuals, but their interpersonal relationships are just so deep and meaningful and each is so incredibly unique, I could honestly write essays upon essays analyzing each one. And the way you connect everything and weave tropes into the overarching plot is just Insane, it’s truly like you’re… retelling a story that actually happened, you know? Like these are real people and real stories. Because I can’t com prehend how you come up with some of this stuff. And there are so, so many “cinematic” moments that are just. So raw and hard-hitting and just stay with you. Big and small moments alike. The Ryan reveal, Joseph Stormbeck’s death (best death scene ever by the way?? I’ve told everyone I know about it when I read it I was absolutely in Awe. Never recovering from that), every moment between Sam and Isaac (I also have a sibling who I’m not technically related to by blood but would like, probably die for, so I just really appreciated everything about them and we need more stories like theirs) (and also every time Sam called Isaac out. Good for them), Sam talking Gavin through his caning holy shit that was a religious moment, Gray’s slowburn adoption of Gavin and when Gavin decided he wanted to be a Uriah (and how his initial thought to getting asked what he wants to be called was “Moore”. And then he was like “Well fuck.” Love that dumbass), just every single thing Finn ever did for the family, Finn and Ellis and Gavin’s monologue about giving Finn a concussion (!! chills!!) and their reunion after Coleen, Vera and Tori and the Work Song scene??, Vera and Tori lowkey adopting Edrissa and Edrissa’s character development and her rants about pretty things and her and Sam and Zachariah’s adorable Young Love that made me so giddy right along with them and Sam and Zachariah’s meet-ugly (I mean it was kinda sweet), Gray being the parental figure we all needed, and Nata and Zelda and Nata helping Sam (and now Gavin!!) and Vera being so proud of her puppy. Also, Isaac and Gavin’s relationship…Insane. The most dramatic enemies to lovers and I love them for it. Invented love. It’s so crazy to read the beginning and see how far everyone’s come and think about everything that has happened from that one Whumptober prompt. It’s a lot but it also makes so, so much sense. I can’t imagine a version where Isaac and Gavin aren’t together in some way (and since I started out of order, when I realized it was a enemies to lovers I was really excited to see how all of that happened. Especially after reading the first book, because it (1/2)

(2/2) was like, how the hell are they gonna get from point A to point B. No way those are the same characters, how is this ever going to get justified? And then Gavin ended up having the best character development Ever, and I love that, I love that he had to work for it and that we as the readers have to work to love him too, because it pays off). And now the ending of book 5! Oh God. On that note, you’re so good at writing villains; making them human and also absolutely detestable and killing them off in the most satisfactory way tailored to them. There was never a point after a major arc where I thought “oh, I wish this had happened instead of x, I wish this had gone this way instead”. Also, to go back on the topic of pain (physical and mental both)! The way everyone copes with it differently, it’s the same thing but it’s unique to the person dealing with it and that’s so clear in your characters, and I also love, love how you made a point of showing how pain changes people because that’s something that I find so often gets ignored, whether voluntarily or not, even in whump. But, yeah, pain definitely changes people. And that’s not always bad, and it’s not always drastic, but it happens and it’s not a shameful thing. Everyone breaks. And HB made me believe that I was allowed to break, and that it’s still possible to live a life you think is worth it. And I won’t even get into how much it’d taught me about friendship and family and how it made me reflect on my own relationships with my loved ones (especially Isaac’s perspective, oh God). It’s just such a rewarding journey. That’s the best word to describe it, I think. And this latest chapter: “The sun shone brightly on the hood of the car, so bright Isaac almost had to close his eyes. The wind moved through the trees that swayed on either side of the lane. Isaac rolled his window down, and he could hear the birds calling to each other, and the sound of the wind rustling the long grasses that smelled so green. With each heartbeat, Gavin relaxed in his arms, his head falling against Isaac’s shoulder, his breaths becoming deep and slow again. A tear rolled down Isaac’s cheek, and he hid his smile against Gavin’s hair.” That image. It’s so vivid and visceral. It gives me the exact same feeling as spring after a long winter (which is…super fitting, actually). It’s that moment of pure contentedness when you realize it’d all been worth it. I don’t know, it just really, really struck me, and I’m so glad the book ended on that note. Despite knowing more hurt awaits, even that feels okay, because happiness will always find a way to seep through. And God, do they deserve that! It’s gonna be heartbreaking when their story ends, but I also know it’s gonna feel right. Like a peaceful retirement. Just, thank you for sharing this world with us, Athena. I hope you’re aware how meaningful this story is to so many of us. And being able to follow it in real-time and hear your inputs and chat about the characters and scream in the comments and reblogs is such a privilege (and being able to read it for free at all? Five books (six counting Vera)! For free! Though I will be getting books 1 and 2 soon hopefully actually). I cannot wait for book 6 and I Will be crying about book 5 until then (and long afterwards, most likely). And I wish you all the best in everything you take on next.<3

Wow, I... wow. I had to set down my phone and just sit in silence after I read this. I’m just... so humbled and amazed that you were able to connect so much with the story and the characters. I’m so glad that you saw something of yourself, and that you were able to find comfort in it. I find comfort in them, too, just knowing that the characters are there when I need to write them.

It’s important to me for things to turn out ‘right.’ That’s part of why I write whump: the bad guys can be defeated, the good guys emerge safe, and love prevails. Writing Isaac and Gavin’s love story was absolutely the biggest surprise for me, it really did feel like I was the last to know. But I treasure them both so much and I love writing them. The family is so fun to explore, with each relationship being so different from the other. I’ve poured so much of myself into this story and into every single one of the characters.

Book 6 is going to be such a challenge. It’s the last book in the series, and the one that’ll (hopefully) tie everything together. I’m giving myself a little break, but I’m also a little scared to start it because once I start it, then each chapter will be closer to the end, and then it’ll be over. I have a few more things in store for the family but at the end, I hope they’re safe, happy, and together. These characters mean more to me than I can say and I’m so happy I’ll have you with me along the way.

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casually-inlove · 4 years

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19 Days Character Archetypes. He Tian

This idea had been dancing around the back of my mind for a little over half a year now. I wanted to compare and contrast 19 Days characters with the list of archetypes proposed in the neo-Jungian research and finally, I got some time to spare. For this post, I am going to talk about He Tian. Before I begin, however, let me clarify a few things. Since the subject is fairly complex, I do not intend to write in detail about the theory itself or the studies mentioned because that is not the purpose of this post. I am only looking to give a quick and basic run-down of the common archetypes shared by the 19 Days characters.

What is an archetype? An archetype is a set of predefined characteristics, a mould. Carl Jung described the archetype as a “fundamental unit of a human mind” or a “primordial image”. Simply put, the archetypes are the recurring and simplified patterns — but also symbols. According to his ideas, these basic symbols exist universally irrespective of epochs, nations, cultures, races, places, etc. Jung believed them to be shared by the so-called collective unconsciousness. However, even before him, the philosophers of old introduced the ideas of pre-existing ideal immaterial forms which shape the material reality. Since the archetypes are fundamentally primordial, they permeate every single sphere of human life. Art, media, movies, day to day interactions — all of them deal in archetypes.

While working on his research, Carl Jung defined the driving impulses of the human psyche. In turn, that data helped him come up with underlying basis for human behaviour. Based on his findings, Jung outlined the so-called primary archetypes. Later his research served as a basis for many other studies and classifications, particularly for The 12 Archetype Model, proposed by Margaret Mark and Carol Pearson in “The Hero and the Outlaw”. Naturally, there can be an infinite number of archetypes, each having their subtleties; still, the short lists give the generalized picture. Deconstructing characters to these basic blueprints is a fair game because a character, no matter how complex, is still an abstract entity.

For this series of posts, I am going to rely on the 12 Archetype Model mentioned above. The list goes as follows:

1. The Innocent

2. The Orphan

3. The Hero

4. The Caregiver

5. The Explorer

6. The Rebel

7. The Lover

8. The Creator

9. The Jester

10. The Sage

11. The Magician

12. The Ruler

Having examined this list, I am led to believe that He Tian primarily represents a mixture of The Hero and The Rebel archetypes.

The Hero and The Rebel

Let us start with the most obvious, the Hero. This archetype is closely associated with the ideas of masculinity, and thus it is also referred as the Warrior, the Crusader, etc.

The Hero archetype characteristics

Motto: Where there is a will, there is a way

Core desire: to prove one's worth through courageous acts

Goal: expert mastery in a way that improves the world

Greatest fear: weakness, vulnerability, being a “chicken”

Strategy: to be as strong and competent as possible

Weakness: arrogance, always needing another battle to fight

Talent: competence and courage

These go very much in line with what we know of He Tian. His childhood flashbacks suggest that he indeed intends to be “the strongest”.

The failure to protect the puppy, the harsh words of He Cheng — all of it led him to become fixated on becoming the Hero, the one who swoops down and single-handedly saves the day. It is in the way he stands in to fight She Li for Guanshan or rushes to prevent Jian Yi from getting kidnapped. It is in the way he attempts to resolve the other boy’s problems with debt collectors. It is in the way he deflects the coke can and decides to meet his father for Guanshan's sake.

He Tian yearns to be the strongest because the alternative — being weak and helpless — has already scarred him in the past. Whatever joy he used to have as a child was taken from him, because he was not strong enough to handle things on his own. He entrusted the puppy to his brother and the man betrayed him — or so He Tian was led to believe.

More than that, he wants Guanshan to come to him, whether it’s talking about his complicated past or whether it’s about learning the guitar.

It goes without saying that He Tian is almost eerily good at anything he does — as such he believes he can learn music from scratch in a short time. That speaks volumes about the confidence he has in his capabilities, and yet to an outsider's perspective this might come off as blatant posturing.

Apart from almost baffling self-confidence that he shows, He Tian is also known for his nearly abnormal physical prowess. He managed to hold his ground against several armed adults (which is probably just flawed writing) and way back he even managed to impress Guanshan by effortlessly hopping over the school fence, so it makes one wonder what kind of training he had undergone.

However, the truth is, The Hero is also susceptible to weakness. In his work, Carl Jung has coined the term “The Shadow”, which became a stand-alone archetype in his list. The Shadow stands for our suppressed, ignored or denied traits, in other words, it is everything that we cannot see or refuse to see in ourselves. The concept of this hidden darkness has been since absorbed into a number posterior studies, such as Robert Moore’s and Douglass Gillette’s “King Magician Warrior Lover”, where they introduce triadic paradigms of the archetypes and their corresponding active and passive shadows. Notably, they link the aforementioned archetypes with the concept of “masculinity” and its development throughout adolescence into adulthood.

What is The Shadow to The Hero archetype? When The Hero cannot fulfill their purpose, they surrender to the shadow. The dark side takes their best qualities and transforms them into flaws. The confidence thus turns into arrogance and hubris, courage into foolhardiness, competence into bravado and posturing — or the complete opposite happens. Courage transforms into cowardice, confidence into insecurity, etc.

Whereas He Tian is concerned, before he had developed an emotional attachment to another person (and by doing so gained something to cherish), we could observe some of the definitive shadow patterns in his behaviour. Until he recognized Guanshan as someone to know and to protect, he used to goad the other boy, if not outright assume the position of his superior, demanding obedience and subservience. He Tian also used the snide tone when talking to Guanshan, and he did so in order to establish his power to steer the boy in what he deemed to be the right direction — that is attempting to curb Redhead’s short temper and brashness. And in doing so, he was not shy of subtly threatening the boy or using physical force to make his point.

To be in touch with his masculinity — that is to channel his energy constructively in order to feel strong and needed, — he required to have someone he could play the knight for. Once he could direct his inner impulses properly, his violent tendencies have subsided.

Even so, in his aspiration to be the ultimate good — driven by the hatred for his family background, perhaps — He Tian often opted for doing rash, foolhardy stuff, such as attempting to take on the debt collectors all by himself, for instance. Sure, he would have gotten to “save the day” and be the hero, but that single moment would have cost him his life.

Now, having glanced at the Hero archetype, let us move to the next one, The Rebel. This archetype is characterized by the following:

The Rebel archetype characteristics

Motto: Rules are made to be broken

Core desire: revenge or revolution

Goal: to overturn what is not working

Greatest fear: to be powerless or ineffectual

Strategy: disrupt, destroy, or shock

Weakness: crossing over to the dark side, crime

Talent: outrageousness, radical freedom

The Rebel is also known as the outlaw, the revolutionary, the wild man, the misfit, or iconoclast.

Indeed, He Tian rebels quite a bit in the manhua. First and foremost, his rebellion is directed at his flesh and blood — Mr He and Cheng.

Not much is known about He Tian’s childhood, yet it is pretty clear that he hadn’t exactly had a happy one. His mother died early on and he was left to grow up practically without parents since Mr He is a textbook absentee father. From what He Tian knows, his brother backstabbed him, an act that keeps plaguing their relationship years after, while his father is labeled as a monster — someone who is ostensibly capable of eliminating people who disobey.

It is also clear as the day that young He Tian is traumatized by whatever dealings his family conducts behind the scenes. At some point, we even witnessed a scene where HT is tossed out of the burning yacht, while his brother is covered in blood and holds a gun. A violent experience such as this inevitably leaves a scar — and actually get to see it. He Tian is shown to experience something closely reminiscent of PTSD, recurring violent nightmares, the fear of the dark, etc.

Back in the present day, we see that He Tian wants to put distance between himself and his family. It manifests in living separately from his kin and cutting the contact to a bare minimum. He makes a point of stating that he is independent, severing the ties he deems to be dysfunctional. Yet the same time He Tian cannot quite let go of his familial bonds. In particular, whenever He Cheng is concerned, the boy sneers and flagrantly shows his impetuousness and disrespect.

In many ways he’s practically stomping his feet, attempting to show that he doesn’t need his brother, yet by doing this he proves the opposite: he still yearns his bitter feelings to be validated by He Cheng — and by his father too, to an extent.

This results in bratty behaviour on his part: He Tian orchestrates property damage at the He mansion, impishly rejects Cheng’s gestures of goodwill, etc.That is the work of the Rebel’s “shadow” counterpart — when the desire to overturn things and break free takes on darker shade and slips into dangerous territory. Resisting and opposing then becomes a way of life, and only through it does the “shadow rebel” feel certain of their self.

He Tian pushes at the boundaries of what is permitted and socially acceptable to feel in control of the situation. If we examine the way He Tian interacts with others, we will see that the shadow manifests in many other ways. He Tian is compelled to stir and instigate others, using his wit and cunning to make them uncomfortable or confused, and thus easy to manipulate to his amusement.

Speaking of socially acceptable behaviour, Chinese culture places a great emphasis on the respect towards senior family members — and I probably cannot stress this enough — He Cheng lets him get away with this lack of reverence. Deep inside He Tian seeks his brother’s approval and attention, but rejects it when he is given, and in the process he sets out to tear down anything that displeases him.

Establishing a connection with Guanshan let He Tian fulfill his Hero potential and channel his energy in constructive ways, and yet at the same time, it allowed him to tap further into his “Shadow” Rebel tendencies. That is, to it rub in into He Cheng’s face that he’s no longer welcome or needed.

Naturally, as a character, He Tian possesses traits of other archetypes — such as The Lover, for instance — albeit to a lesser extent, so I’m not going to dive deep in here. Let me just mention, that as a Lover, He Tian is compelled to increase his attractiveness to his love interest — we often see him fishing for compliments and validation on Guanshan’s part, which underscores his inner need to feel needed and wanted, yet also turns into clinginess at times.

With that, this quick rundown of He Tian’s character patterns is complete. All in all, you could say that He Tian is fairly archetypal at his core, and yet it’s the combination of these “trite” features that mark him as an utterly realistic and believable character. It is because we’ve seen these archetypes countless times before that He Tian appears to be true to life.

Lastly, this is going to turn into a series of posts, but right now I cannot say when the next part is going to be up since writing this took me some time. In the meantime, you can read a bit more below ✨.

A bit more about He Tian | Support me at Ko-Fi

#19 days #he tian #long post #finally published

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expensiveglasses · 3 years

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Charming chapter 6

Summary: Prince Jungkook was as infuriating as he was beautiful. In line to one day be king, he requested your guidance in the ways of his people. In turn he will make you laugh, give your family fine gifts, and become an invaluable friend. Unfortunately, he will also make you fall in love with him. But the most unfortunate thing of all was his betrothal…to Snow White

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Fantasy, Angst, Snow white/au

Rating: NC-17

Word Count: 4590

Warnings: This is the chapter the warnings have been about. It’s a heavier chapter in the second half dealing with “death” and attempted suicide. Nothing is graphically described, but if you are sensitive to that subject matter, you may want to avoid the last few paragraphs.

Trigger warnings are TW: Major character “death” TW: Thoughts of suicide TW: Attempted suicide.

. .

A month had passed since Else’s wedding and the summer was slowly coming to an end. It made it easier to do chores when the air was cooler; more pleasant to sit outside and do the washing. Though you’d mostly neglected that for the last few weeks.

You hadn’t seen your friend as much since her marriage and so you’d spent even more time with the dwarfs and Snow in their cottage. The prince joined most nights, bringing food and humor with him. You’d quickly learned he was a master of terrible jokes and couldn’t help but like him all the more for it.

This morning your mother had sent you in search of berries. She claimed to want to make preserves, but you were wise enough to know she just wanted to go see a friend and gossip. You didn’t mind so much as you chose to dawdle around the edge of the forest, plucking blueberries from bushes and placing them in your basket.

You saw the prince making his way towards you long before he reached you. The sight of him made your insides feel funny, like little wings sweeping delicately against your ribcage and you bent down to survey a raspberry bush, plucking eagerly at the juicy red fruit.

“Good morning.” The prince greeted as he reached your side and you stood straight to gaze up at him.

“Good morning, Jungkook. You’re out very early today; normally I don’t see you until evening.”

“I finished my lessons early today.” He grinned, something mischievous in his twinkling eyes, and you felt that perhaps he’d snuck out before actually finishing his training.

“I hope you won’t get a tongue lashing for this.” You teased, moving further up the path towards a strawberry bush and plucking one to try. “Mmm, they’re amazing right now. Would you like to try one?”

You moved to take another bite of yours, but the prince was faster, grabbing your wrist and pulling the berry towards his mouth, allowing plump lips to encircle the rest of the berry and separate it from its calyx.

For a moment, everything stilled, your heart thumping wildly in your chest as his fingers remained delicately around your wrist. His gaze was wild; heated on yours as he stepped towards you. Heart racing, you let the end of the strawberry fall from your finger tips and onto the ground.

“Sweet.” He murmured, licking the juice from the corner of his mouth and your vision was pulled toward the sight before you quickly looked away.

The prince paused before stepping back, staring down at the strawberry bush and into your own basket. “You’re picking berries this morning? May I help?”

“Yes, of course.” You nodded, turning back to the strawberry bush and plucking fresh fruit to drop into your basket. “There’s more in the forest.” You signaled, beginning to walk and he followed after you.

“What were you studying today?” You asked as you began to pick from new bushes. Jungkook stood nearby, loading his hand with blueberries.

“Foreign politics and language specifically. These are topics that I studied in school as well, but my father wants me polished in the policies of our own kingdom, of course.”

“Are foreign policies of other lands so different from our own?” You asked, walking closer to him so he could drop the berries in his hands into your basket.

“It depends on the country.” He mused, crouching low to pick from more difficult spots. “The ones nearby are very similar, but across waters it begins to diversify greatly. Of course, all people are human at their core, intrinsically the same if we’re all torn down to the beginnings, but traditions and belief systems vary. It’s good to have a working knowledge of any land we may come to have dealings with.”

“Ah, the duties of a king.” You smiled softly as he stood to his full height beside you. The prince drifted closer to you as you weaved your way deeper into the forest. Close enough that you could feel the graze of his sleeve against yours, smell the fresh saffron against his tunic.

“Duty, I find, is a very inconvenient thing.” He looked at you and you pondered his words curiously.

“What do you mean?” You inquired gently, slowing your pace to match his.

“Always to be bound to one’s duty, never to allow the heart to decide.”

You paused a moment. “And what does the heart wish for?” You whispered, looking up at him. He’d come to a stop and you stilled as well, turning to face him.

“I think you know.” He returned just as softly. The weight of his words was heavy to bear; it brought with it a joy you’d felt was impossible. You had hoped he would say something like that; that he’d been feeling what you were feeling. You were flush with warmth at the admission.

“But your heart cannot have its desires?”

He smiled sadly, eyes softening as he looked at you. “Duty, you see. It seems it bends for no one.”

“I wish it would.” You admit timidly and he sighed, taking your hand carefully in his own.

“As do I.”

“Snow says we mustn’t worry now, after all, the future continues and we do not know what it holds.” You smiled, feigning an optimism you didn’t really feel. If even a prince could not choose for himself, why should you feel things could be any different for you?

At least you knew you weren’t the only one wishing.

“Should we go see her?” Jungkook smiled and you nodded. He released your hand and you strode ahead of him, leading him further into the forest and eventually into the clearing that held the dwarf’s cottage.

Snow was not alone when you arrived; however, and the two of you stood startled in the doorway as you took notice of her with a young man by the hearth of the fire. They looked up at the two of you as the door swung open and Snow smiled, coming to pull you into a hug.

“You’ve come!” She cried happily. “I was so hoping you would. I wanted to introduce you both to my friend, Diterich. He’s the one I told you of, who saved me.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, your majesty.” Diterich said, bowing low. “Ma’am.” He said, inclining his head towards you and you smiled in return.

He was a handsome young man, dark, shaggy blonde hair and bright green eyes. He was well built and had a bow strapped to his back; you wondered if that was his profession. He was certainly not close to Snow in rank, but he held himself as though he were made for something more than his station in life and you liked that quiet confidence. You supposed Snow did too, based on the way she looked at him.

Love sick. It made your heart ache for her and you looked carefully over at Jungkook. Destiny had not been kind to any of you.

“I’ve heard of your kindness to my friend.” Jungkook said, “When everything is well again, you should be rewarded.”

Diterich shook his head, staring down at Snow, the same look of love she’d bestowed on him, and smiled. “With all due respect, your majesty, I didn’t do it for reward.”

“I like you all the better for it.” Jungkook smiled. “How did you come to find her, though?”

“Snow sent me a communication through letter. One of the dwarfs found me in Snow’s kingdom, at her direction, and delivered it personally. I am indebted to him. It has given me much comfort to see her safe and well. I am only sorry I could not bring her some of her clothes.”

Snow waved his comment away. “It is a small inconvenience. Besides, I am far happier to have your company than to have all my dresses back. All three of you. Will you be staying for supper?”

She looked to both Jungkook and yourself and you smiled with a shrug. “It’s still so early in the day so it’s hard to say, but I imagine I’ll be able to spare some time this evening.”

“I should hope so! By the way, did you happen to notice if there are any gooseberry bushes nearby? I want to make a pie tomorrow.”

You nodded, pointing out the window. “Yes, in fact, there are some just before the tree line. Over there.”

“Wonderful!” Snow cried, clapping her hands together. “Then tomorrow you can expect some pie.”

“I’ll be looking forward to it.” You said.

“Snow has said you’ve been friends since childhood.” Jungkook said suddenly, “but I never did ask how the two of you had met.”

He inspected them with the same interest you had and you wondered if he could see what you could. The prince was intelligent, so you imagined the shared looks of longing had not been missed. Diterich looked to Snow before answering.

“We met as children. My father was a huntsman in their court and I was raised to take his place. As children, we would play in the castle together. We got into trouble a lot,” he grinned, “a princess wasn’t meant to be wrestling with a common boy. Kindred spirits, my mother would say. When my father passed, I took his place as a huntsman in the royal court. Youngest in Vildüngan history.”

His chest puffed as he said it and you smiled. “Your family must be very proud.”

He nodded, expression dropping suddenly. “My mother and sister are all I have left. They’re in hiding, though. As am I. The queen found out about the pig’s heart and ordered my head. It’s why I came here; to warn Snow.”

You looked to the princess in alarm, but she smiled at you with all the serenity of one whose life isn’t in perpetual danger. “She doesn’t know I’m here.” Snow assured, squeezing your arm. “All is well.”

“We need to start thinking of ways to get you back to your kingdom. You’re its rightful heir!” Jungkook insisted and she tutted, moving away from the hearth of the fire and towards the kitchen to keep her hands busy.

“It will all work out somehow, I have faith.” She replied flippantly and Jungkook looked angry.

“Why won’t you take this seriously?” He chastised. “She wants you dead and is actively seeking your heart. Let my father help, we can do something; go against her.”

“No.” She insisted, turning sharply to look at him. “I don’t want anyone else to be pulled into this. No one need inconvenience or injure themselves on my behalf. I’m already uneasy with how many people are involved; how many lives are directly affected because of this…I won’t have anymore.”

“But,” Jungkook began once more but was silenced as she frowned at him.

“I said no, Jungkook.”

The prince sighed, rubbing at his forehead in frustration. “Fine, I can’t make you take your safety more seriously. I must return home.” He bowed before turning towards the door and you looked from Snow back to Jungkook before following him out into the clearing, basket full of berries swinging from your arm.

“Jungkook!” You called, rushing to his side. He didn’t slow so you walked with him through the forest in silence. Just as the trees were thinning, Jungkook slowed his pace, sighing loudly.

“I’m afraid I won’t be seeing you again until the day after next.” At your questioning look, he proceeded. “My father and I are expecting foreign dignitaries this evening and we will play host until tomorrow evening as well. I won’t have time to spare while they’re here.”

“Duty, as you say.” You smiled. He returned your soft smile, nodding and reaching for your hand.

“I will be seeing you.” He said, leaving a soft kiss on the back of your hand before making his way back up to the castle. . .

Your mother was in the garden when you returned, cutting cucumbers from their stalks. She looked up as you came through the gate, waving you over.

“Why did it take so long to pick berries?” Your mother asked with a frown, taking the basket from your arms.

“I went to say hello to the dwarfs while I was in the area.” You said, bending down beside her and helping to dig up carrots at her direction.

“You’re there too often these days; what business does a young woman have visiting 7 old men so often? Aren’t they in the mines at this time of day anyway?”

You sighed, brushing hair from your face as you dropped a couple carrots into the basket beside your mother. “Well, now that Else is married I don’t always have anyone to visit.”

Your mother frowned. “Perhaps you should think of getting married soon.” She said and you looked up at her startled.

“Get married? It’s not that easy, mother. I’m not even being courted.”

She gave you a look, eyes shifting over to the house. “If you gave a little more effort where prudent, perhaps that wouldn’t be a problem.”

You sighed, shaking your head and pulling another carrot from the dirt. “I’m not in love with Peter.” You whispered.

Your mother laughed, wiping her hands on her skirt. “Love? We don’t have that luxury, my dear. You know that.” She stood, hands extended for the basket full of vegetables and you handed it up to her before standing and grabbing your own basket with berries. “I expect you here all day tomorrow. You’ve been neglecting your duties and it’s time you start preparing to run a house of your own. Time waits for no one, you know.”

She walked into the house and you watched after her, chewing on your bottom lip as you willed the tears of frustration back. You wiped your hands on the apron over your dress before walking into the house and out of the sun.

Peter and your father were in the corner, both working with new fabrics. Peter looked up at you, offering you a small smile before returning to his work and you sighed softly to yourself. Why couldn’t you just love him? . .

Your hands were sore. You’d been at the river all morning with your mother washing linen. It had been your job to beat the linen with a poss-stick as your mother insisted that’s what youth was for. You wondered if you’d ever be able to move again. What good was youth if it was wasted away on chores?

Hands feeling like they might just fall off, you wrung out the last of the fabrics before dropping it in your basket and heaving this onto your hip. Your mother chatted aimlessly as you walked from the riverside and around the edge of the forest towards your home.

You cast your eyes up towards the castle as it came into view around the bend of the trees and wondered idly what Jungkook was doing today. You knew he was entertaining foreign dignitaries, of course, but you couldn’t even imagine what that entailed. Perhaps they were holed up in some room discussing trade.

“Can you imagine living there?” Your mother asked, taking note of your gaze. You sighed, looking from her and back to the castle.

“Only in our dreams, mother.”

She hummed, shifting her own laundry basket in her arms. “If we lived in a place like that, I imagine we could have someone else tend to our washing. Our cooking, too. What must their food be like, hmm?”

You chuckled, kicking a pebble across the dirt path. “I suppose we’ll never know. Grand, I imagine, though. Warm potatoes and bread, sweet dessert’s whenever we ask for them. I would eat everything and die happy if I were them.”

“Thanks to the prince, we can have some share in their prosperity.” Your mother commented and you could see her looking at you from the corner of her eye. “He’s been very generous, as of late.”

You nodded; eyes trained on the dirt path beneath your feet. “Yes, he has been very kind.”

“He was never so kind when he was a boy. I wonder at the change.” She remarked and you wondered if she suspected more than she let on. She’d never seen the two of you together; aside from when he and his father had visited your home a few months ago.

“Perhaps he had a very good education.” You said as the roof of your home came into view. “Rumor has it he went to a school for training.”

“Rumor, you say?” She asked and you nodded, pushing through the gate in front of your house.

Conversation stopped then as the two of you went about hanging the laundry from the lines and working in the garden. Peter and your father were working on mending clothing in the home, so you didn’t feel like discussing the king and his son in their presence. It seemed your mother was also of the same mind set.

As the sun waned and the evening became cooler, Peter left your home with goodbyes and well wishes. You were only just finishing supper when the wind outside began to howl. Your father peaked his head outside the door and you watched as you ladled stew into bowls.

“A storm is approaching.” He commented softly. “I must make sure the animals are secured.” He left the home to the small stable behind your house and you listened as the wind whistled loudly from outside the walls.

“We’ve not had rain in a while.” Your mother said, helping you to bring the food to the small table. “It will be good for the crops.”

The storm raged loudly through the night, rain pounding against the timber frame of your home. It was difficult to sleep with all the noise; thunder and lightning bursting loudly across the sky. You could hear your father snoring from the small room next to yours and it soon lulled you into a fitful sleep. . .

Mornings after a storm were your favorite. The calm as opposition to the fierce raging of wind the night before a reminder that brighter days always followed the rain. You’d managed to convince your mother to allow you to check on the dwarfs this morning. You imagined they were mostly protected from the elements in their place among the trees. Even so.

After a quick breakfast of pottage, you dressed and made your way towards the forest. The sun was already sitting comfortably in the sky, illuminating the crystal blue sky and you listened happily to the sounds of birds singing as you walked through the fields.

You found, to your surprise, the prince already waiting by the forests edge. He sat upon a boulder; legs draped out in front of him as he pulled blades of grass apart as distraction. He looked up as your footsteps roused his attention, smile spreading across his lips.

“Y/N.” He beamed, standing and coming to meet you.

“I’m surprised to see you so early!” You exclaimed. “Won’t your father be missing you?”

“Actually, he and our guests drank well into the evening. They will be spending the next few hours recovering in bed.” He said with a roguish grin and you chuckled, making your way into the forest.

The prince followed quickly. “Did you not drink yourself, your majesty?” You teased and he smiled at you.

“I did, but only a little. I knew I wanted to use the opportunity to see you.”

You looked away with a small chuckle, smoothing hair away from your face.

“Well, here I am.” You smiled. Before you could continue, there was a heavy rustling in the trees and both you and Jungkook stopped, watching with unease as something came crashing through the branches.

To your surprise; it was the dwarfs who came rushing into sight and they stopped suddenly, panting before you.

“Y/N, your majesty!” Doc gasped, clutching at his rounded belly as he took deep steadying breaths. The panic in his tone was palpable and your back straightened in alarm.

“What’s wrong?” You asked. Jungkook seemed just as tense from their unusual greeting and you waited with baited breath for your friends to continue.

“It’s Snow.” Doc finally said and your alarm rose.

“What of her?” The prince asked sharply and all eyes turned to him. The dwarfs were still breathing heavily from their run; disrupting the usual quiet of the forest.

“Your majesty!” Sleepy blubbered, hardly able to contain himself. “Snow has died.”

“What?!” You gasped, eyes swiveling desperately to each face, each as stricken as the next.

“How?!” The prince demanded and Doc was quick to try and calm the atmosphere.

“She has not died.” He pacified. Your chest was so tight you thought it might burst. How could someone possibly die and not die all at the same time? “She’s been put under a spell; a sleeping spell.”

“I don’t understand.” Jungkook said tersely. You’d never seen him look so distraught.

“Allow me to explain.” Doc continued, “An old hag came to the cottage when we were away. She had a basket of apples. I’m unsure how, but Snow came to acquire one.”

“It was poisoned and that foolish girl took a bite.” Grumpy cried furiously.

Doc tried once more to continue, but Happy spoke first. “We chased the hag, but it was difficult in the storm. Chased her up the mountain but she slipped and fell off. It was the queen, your majesty. It was her stepmother.”

“Did you capture her?” Jungkook asked angrily, back ramrod straight as he paced back and forth. “Did you tie her up to be tried for her crimes?”

“No need,” Bashful said, shaking his head. “The queen is dead. She died from the fall.”

“What of Snow?” You rasped, “where is she?”

“That’s why we were coming for you, your majesty.” Doc said once again. “It was old magic the queen used; ancient. Unless she can find true loves kiss, she’ll remain asleep forever. We can take you to her.”

“True loves kiss?” Jungkook asked, voice cracking in his grief.

The dwarfs nodded. “It’s the only cure.” Sneezy bemoaned. “That’s why we came to find you, your majesty.”

“Me?” Jungkook asked, looking to you and back to the dwarfs.

They looked to you; gazes filled with pity before Doc spoke once more. “You are her betrothed, your majesty. If not you, then who?”

The pain in your chest was severe. Fracturing from the loss of a friend; ripping apart as the prospect of losing the one man you truly loved loomed like a shadow over you.

“What do I have to do?” He whispered and you looked up at him.

“True loves kiss.” Dopey murmured, eyes shifting over to you sadly and then back to the prince.

It was silent for what felt like eternity, the gravity of the situation sinking in and you felt buried under the weight of it; the forest floor waiting to accept you. The prince looked to you, tears already in his eyes, but your own vision of him quickly blurred.

“I have to try.” Jungkook choked and you could feel your heart break a little more, “she’s one of my closest friends. I can’t sit back and do nothing; I couldn’t live with myself. I have to try.”

“I understand.” You murmured. “What if you’re able to wake her?”

Jungkook paused, his eyelashes fluttering closed, a line drawing between his eyes. “Let’s not think about it right now. I have to go.” He gave you one last glance before darting further into the forest with the dwarfs and out of sight. Was it possible to die from a broken heart? You were sure the question had been asked before…you were also sure the answer was yes. Your heart ached in a way you’d never imagined it could.

The love of your life was running to the side of another woman, and though you knew his reasoning was righteous and sound, you ached for the inevitable outcome. A prince was meant to be with a princess. This was no fairy tale, not for you, at least. You can’t always have what you want.

But as you stood there in the grass, surrounded by your broken dreams, you mourned what you could never have had. Even if Snow had not eaten the apple, even had she not been born at all, you would never have been given your heart’s desire; your class was decided before you were born and you would do well to remember it.

When Snow awoke, as she inevitably would, you would be left to watch them marry. Worse still, your father would likely be commissioned to make Jungkook’s wedding clothes and you would be expected to help. That was a bitter truth you could not swallow. To carry the wedding clothing of the man you were desperately in love with…only for him to wear them with someone else.

You could not do it.

Your feet began to take you before your mind could catch up. The dwarves’ home, tucked delicately between the trees and the stream. The lighting surrounding the cottage was dim despite the morning hour, the house dark in the absence of the once warm lighting; filled with the dwarfs and Snow’s laughter and song.

Now it felt as empty as your heart. The evening turned chilly, the storm from yesterday taking with it the sun from the late summer and you shivered at the thresh hold, lifting your hand carefully to push against the door.

With a soft creak, the door swung open and you glanced inside. In their haste, everything had been left exactly as it was. An uncooked gooseberry pie sat on the counter top, flour strewn across. The fire in the fire place had long gone out. And there, by the table, an apple with one bite.

You stood in the door way a moment, staring down at the beautiful red skin of the nearly pristine apple. Contemplating. You could not bear to face a future without him in it.

With three quick strides, you picked up the apple and ran from the house, seeking out the privacy the trees afforded you. Not far from the home, in a particularly dense part of the forest, you stood staring down at the beautiful, red fruit.

A choice, so simple yet so difficult. One bite; you knew that’s all it would take…but was it really worth it? The light was fading fast this deep in the forest and you shivered, looking around in the darkness.

You thought of Jungkook again, of his handsome, smiling face. His kind and gentle heart, his loyalty and good nature. Was he with Snow White now? Had she already woken up? He was no longer your Jungkook; forever the kingdoms Jungkook and your heart wept.

You wouldn’t even be missed.

Staring down at the apple you closed your eyes, breathing slowly out of your nose before bringing it to your lips and taking a bite. It was bitter, acidic, and it burned. You coughed, dropping the apple to the ground and fell to your knees, spluttering, eyes watering as your tongue swelled and you felt your blood turn to ice in your veins.

Everything hurt, your limbs felt like they were made of fire, burning, burning, burning and then black.

Here’s the second to last chapter! The 7th is already finished and in editing. I hope you loved this chapter as much as I loved writing it and I can’t wait to hear from you! <3

#jungkook scenarios #jungkook fanfic #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #bts jungguk #bts jeon jungkook #jeon jungkook

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