#and a third has something going on somewhere near his gender i think. i think? probably. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ailelie · 3 years

Text

strong

It starts when Jirou overhears a conversation between Aizawa and Present Mic that could be flirty or not. This leads to a lunchtime discussion of flirty vs. friendly and whether or not the two teachers are each other's types. This then spins into a conversation about "types" in general.

Lunch ends before Todoroki is forced to answer with his own "type."

Class is a special lecture on heroism and psychology. This brings up the cycle of abuse and Todoroki's mental "no."

After dinner, the conversation lazily turns back to types and Todoroki gets called out for not giving his before. "Strong," he says. He gets teased for not giving more--hair color, sense of humor, hobbies, gender--and he's like "those aren't important." Likes? Dislikes? They push. Then he thinks and shakes his head. Strong encompasses everything important.

Eventually the conversation circles back to the instigating situation: Aizawa and Present Mic: Flirty or Friendly? The students start to scheme and this draws in Mina who pulls in the rest of the squad.

Bakugou thinks the whole thing is stupid. Todoroki is surprised to agree with him. Bakugou also points out that even if they are, maybe they don't want anyone to know. And, besides, what does it matter? (Secretly Bakugou knows he isn't straight and he'd hate to be outed by nosy idiots).

Next day, they're assigned a project. They can work in groups. Groups form and discussions, but the project conversation keeps slipping back to the schemes. Todoroki accidentally makes eye contact with Bakugou and it seems he is just as exasperated. Then Bakugou asks the teacher if they can change up groups if they want to do something else for the project. Teacher says "yes" as long as they finalize groups by the end of the period. Then he asks if he can work alone. That is a "no." So Bakugou considers his options (Yaoyorozu’s group would be focused, but he does not want to work with Iida, etc) and ends up approaching Todoroki who is looking about as miserable as his face allows at his own table. Bakugou confirms he isn't in on the scheme yet and says they should work together instead. Todoroki agrees, much to the surprise and dismay of his friends. He just wants to get the project done.

Near the end of the period, Shinsou drops into a chair by them and says they have to be less annoying than Aoyama's group. And then asks why they peeled off from the others. Bakugou says the rest are too focused on whether or not the teachers are dating. Shinsou suppresses a smirk and says "They aren't." "Like I care?" "We're not talking about that," Todoroki says, pulling them back to the project.

They hash out a study schedule for the project. They've got a month to pull it all together. Finding a quiet place to study is difficult, though.

There is training. Todoroki watches Bakugou finish up a set and comments, "You're strong." Bakugou a bit high on endorphins and beating his personal best just says "No shit."

When their study spot is basically invaded for the third time in a row, Shinsou groans and says he might have somewhere they can study instead. He just has to ask first. Bakugou frowns because that reminds him of an option, too. So, until Shinsou can figure out whether his idea will work, they decide to try working on their project at Bakugou’s house.

Todoroki sees how Bakugou and his mother interact, which reminds him of the lesson on cycles of abuse. On the train back to UA he asks, out of nowhere, “Do you think all kids end up like their parents?”

Shinsou and Bakugou immediately answer “No.” Todoroki is like, “But your mother…” / “But nothing. That’s just how we talk. What’s the point in sulking around or hiding what you mean?” The two then glance to Shinsou who’s just like, “My parents abandoned me. I hope I can clear that bar.” / Bakugou’s eyes widen a bit at that, but he only says, “Yeah. We decide what we’re like. Not them.”

And for the second time that week, Todoroki thinks strong.

A few days later, Shinsou announces he has a place they can study, but it is top secret so they can’t tell anyone. The other two agree. (Bakugou’s house isn’t bad, but it isn’t super close either. Walking distance is much better than a train). So after classes, he walks them away from UA, into the nearby neighborhood, and to an apartment.

Inside the apartment is Present Mic with his hair wet and down, frowning over some papers with a grading pen in his hand. He glances up when Shinsou flicks on the hall light. Shinsou signs something and Mic replies and gets up. “Wha--” Todoroki starts to ask quietly and Bakugou replies before Shinsou can, “He’s going to put his hearing aids back in.” “You sign?” Shinsou asks, surprised. “I’m probably going to be deaf by the time I’m 30,” Bakugou replies with forced nonchalance. “I figured I should learn before I had to.” “You should talk with Yamada.” Bakugou raises his brows. “You live with Yamada?” Meanwhile Todoroki is looking around the room and notices the photographs. “And Aizawa?” he adds. Shinsou just smirks again. “You’ll see.”

Present Mic returns with his hair pulled back. “I didn’t realize today was study day,” he says with a bright smile. “Why don’t you take your friends to the table, Hitoshi? I’ll put together a snack.” He does just that and then returns to the living room and his grading. The whole thing reminds Todoroki of Bakugou’s mother when she and Bakugou weren’t arguing. And he asks, carefully because he knows he misses social cues, “Is Mr. Yamada your father?”

This, of all things, is what flusters Shinsou. “Adopted,” he says. “He and Aizawa.” Bakugou laughs. “So that’s why they’re not dating. They’re married?” Shinsou confirms this and reinforces the secrecy.

At some point Aizawa returns to the apartment and Hizashi invites Todoroki and Bakugou to stay for dinner. Then Aizawa offers to walk them back to UA before he goes on patrol. “We won’t say anything,” Todoroki promises; he knows the value of secrets. Then, after a long minute, Bakugou adds, quietly, “But maybe you should? It’d have been nice to know sooner it wasn’t impossible.” Aizawa only nods. He walks them to the gates and tells them to get to bed.

On his way to his room, Todoroki realizes the implications of what Bakugou had said and once again marvels at his strength. Speaking out against a teacher and professional hero, revealing something about himself like that--compounded with his self-confidence and drive and physical fitness…

Todoroki sinks onto his bed and thinks oh.

Once the thought is there, he has trouble not paying attention to Bakugou. It is a Problem.

He is not subtle. Bakugou calls him out on it and Todoroki answers honestly, “I want to understand you.” Like Bakugou is some kind of complicated puzzle.

Really, the only thing keeping Todoroki from becoming the center of attention as everyone tries to understand why Bakugou is the center of his attention is that the flirty v. friendly now duelling schemes are still on. By this point the teachers know. Yamada is having fun with it. Aizawa is ignoring it.

And Todoroki and Bakugou have dinner at their apartment about twice a week. The project ends (and they ace it), but this routine persists.

It is strange watching the two teachers interact with Shinsou. Todoroki even watches Aizawa and Shinsou train one afternoon and is again resentful about his father and own training. And it builds. They go to the apartment and everyone is so nice and family like. And the teachers ask Shinsou about his grades and tease him over his crush on some girl they never outright name. And it is this fury building. He knows how to swallow back his anger, all of his emotions really, but he’s been letting his guard down more at UA and apparently he’s forgotten the trick of it when he has this much going on inside of him (because it isn’t just the fury; it is also his confusion about Bakugou, his worries about his mother, etc). And on the way back to UA, he quietly demands to know why Aizawa never hurt Shinsou during training.

Why didn’t he hurt him? Why didn’t he insult him? Why? He’s crying but doesn’t realize it. Bakugou is frozen. And then Aizawa is hugging him and suggesting that they return to the apartment and talk instead. Todoroki is calming but everything is still spinning around him. Aizawa asks if Bakugou can return to UA alone and Todoroki surprises himself by saying “No. He can come.” Because Todoroki has no idea what he feels about Bakugou, not really, but he knows the other boy is strong and right now he needs strength.

They return. Yamada sees them and murmurs that he’ll make tea. Aizawa takes Todoroki to the couch. Shinsou signs to Bakugou asking what happened. Bakugou replies that he has no idea. Icyhot (and yes, Todoroki’s name signs are that combination) just started crying. Aizawa interrupts the conversation by asking Bakugou to join Todoroki on the couch. Yamada brings in tea and Aizawa starts asking questions. Bakugou isn’t sure what he’s doing there until he feels Todoroki lean very slightly against his shoulder. A cat jumps into his lap. His voice is basically a monotone, but Bakugou realizes he’s still freaked out. And, as he listens to what he’s saying, he realizes why. Shinsou sits on the floor on Todoroki’s other side and leans his shoulder against Todoroki’s knees.

And after the talking is done and Todoroki is staring down at his cold, undrunk tea and the teachers are in the kitchen talking silently. Bakugou says, “You will never be your old man, Icyhot. I’d kick your ass if you tried.” For some reason this makes Todoroki huff a small laugh. “Good.”

The teachers return. They have extra futons. The boys will stay the night and they’ll discuss everything in the morning. They move the couch and lay out the futons. Shinsou sleeps in his own room, so it is just Bakugou and Todoroki.

Todoroki can’t sleep. Now that he’s calmed from his earlier fury and breakdown, panic is setting in. He can’t believe what he just did. Bakugou notices and, instead of insulting him, asks if he wants to learn sign language. They spend about an hour going through the alphabet and basic words until Todoroki is tired enough to sleep.

In the morning, Todoroki refuses to press any charges against his father. The teachers say that they’ll arrange it so that he spends all of his holidays with them or at the school. And say that he has to start meeting with Hound Dog once a week to talk. Todoroki does not like the mandated counseling, but accepts it as his punishment for letting his emotions get the better of him.

The signing lessons continue. Each night, about an hour after curfew, Todoroki slips down to Bakugou’s room and learns sign language. Kirishima knows the sneaking is going on and that Bakugou is giving lessons, but he’s just so proud of Bakugou making friends on his own that he helps cover for them. (He doesn’t know why Todoroki is learning sign, but he doesn’t ask).

The flirty v. friendly schemes are ongoing and yielding mixed results. The debate is annoying. It has been a month, but the growing mountain of contradictory evidence is keeping the conversation alive. Izuku points out that this is the kind of thing Todoroki would normally be all over, but he doesn’t know how to make himself care. He doesn’t care about other people’s romances. He barely cared about his own before Bakugou.

Because that is definitely still a thing. After Bakugou didn’t make fun of him for his breakdown. After he started teaching him sign language every night. He just wants the other boy close. He doesn’t understand his own impulses beyond that. It is enough that he’s even eaten lunch with the Bakusquad a few times.

Meanwhile, Bakugou is opening up to the teachers a bit more. After seeing how they handled Todoroki’s breakdown, he finally takes Shinsou’s advice and mentions his own hearing loss and how it probably wasn’t going to get better. Then one night he brings up what he’d hinted at before. It’s been weeks since then, but he talks about how annoying the schemes have gotten and asks why the teachers don’t just tell everyone and then says that he’s gay and if they’re too cowardly to let little kids know they aren’t alone and anyone can be a hero, then he’ll just do it himself.

On the walk home, Aizawa tells him he’s right and that they’ll think about it. During sign language practice that night, Todoroki tells Bakugou that his friends had asked him before what his type was and that he’d said “strong.” And then he says, “You’re the strongest person I know. I like you.”

And Bakugou is like “you can’t just say something like that” and Todoroki’s just “why not? It’s the truth.” He maybe quotes or references Bakugou’s comment from over a month ago on the train about being direct. So Bakugou asks if they can talk about it tomorrow and Todoroki just nods and asks, “Do you mind if I eat lunch with you tomorrow? I like being close to you.” And Bakugou feels like he’s about to explode of something, but he agrees and all but pushes Todoroki out the door.

Kirishima is returning to his room after staying late in Kaminari’s room playing games. He checks the time. “Lesson end early?” he asks. Todoroki says, “I told him I like him.” Kirishima’s brows raise--”That would do it.”--and he wishes Todoroki a good night. As soon as he’s out of sight, Kirishima lets himself into Bakugou’s room, knowing his friend is not going to be able to process this on his own.

The day happens and isn’t particularly notable. Todoroki has eaten with Bakugou’s friends before, after all. That night, Bakugou says, “Okay. Let’s try this.”

Kirishima, good bro that he is, provides gossip cover by publicly confessing to Yaoyorozu. He wanted someone unlikely who would definitely not return his feelings and who no one in the class would expect. (She accepts. It is a Thing. They go on a date and he explains. When she looks upset, he says that he does admire her; he just never thought of her that way because he figured he didn’t have a chance. He asks her if she wants to try this while also using their relationship to draw away as much attention as possible from Bakugou and Todoroki. Todoroki is her friend, so she agrees. And thus begins their farce covering a real growing friendship and relationship during which they both gain confidence).

Meanwhile Todoroki and Bakugou go on a date. It goes rather well. Except Todoroki still wants closer.

They start cuddling during their nightly lessons, which somehow remain mostly lesson still. Todoroki curls against Bakugou like a cat, mimicking his gestures.

Bakugou talks with Kirishima about things. Todoroki talks with Shinsou. (He’d like to talk with Midoriya, but even he realizes that wouldn’t be the best idea). On weekends, when other students head home to see family, Todoroki stays with his teachers and Shinsou instead of staying in the dorms like he used to. He sleeps on a futon in Shinsou’s room and tells him about dating Bakugou and wanting more, but not knowing what that “more” is. Shinsou suggests kissing. (And maybe privately teases Bakugou about it but Bakugou just flushes and gets agitated and blusters about being careful. And Shinsou, for the first time, calls Todoroki his little brother (actual ages do not matter) and tells Bakugou not to hurt him. Bakugou is both insulted and relieved by this. As if he would).

So the next night Todoroki asks Bakugou to kiss him. So Bakugou, blushing even though (thanks to Shinsou) he’d known this was coming, does. Soft and chaste. He pulls back and Todoroki blinks slowly and says “Again.” Bakugou smirks or grins and kisses him again. This one is not nearly as chaste.

At some point Bakugou tries to be nice and use ‘Todoroki’ instead of a nickname and Todoroki is like ‘I don’t like all of the nicknames, but I like that you don’t use my family name.’ And Bakugou gets it, but the nicknames start getting nicer. Less ‘halfie’ and more things like “strawberry swirl.”

The first time he does this in front of others, Kirishima glares at him and is trying to figure out how to draw the attention away when Yaoyorozu suddenly calls for him using his given name. The whispers shift immediately. And Kirishima, when he recovers his senses, thanks her for her quick thinking.

But such attention drawing doesn’t last forever, especially as Bakugou and Todoroki start gravitating toward each other during school hours (and the lesson portions of their evenings grow shorter and shorter). Then one day when everyone is starting to question them about it (maybe they fell asleep on the couch together in the common room?), Aizawa enters the room and sighs and says, “I hope you’re not concocting another scheme to harass my husband and me.”

Pin drop.

But at least no one cares about Bakugou and Todoroki being friends (or napping together) anymore.

But people will find out soon (and Bakugou is kinda itching to come out now that Aizawa and Present Mic have; it feels too much like backing down if he doesn’t), so Todoroki and Bakugou talk about what they are and what they want. And for Todoroki it is simple. He just wants to be close. And maybe he mentions also not wanting to be his father and that Bakugou reminds him that he doesn’t have to be, that he can be strong. And Bakugou wants to date. He wants to do all the shit people assume he wouldn’t be interested in. And he wants to do that with Todoroki. Plus, Todoroki’s belief in his strength is good. He feels calmer with him around. (So, basically, they’re each a rock for the other; two strong people making each other stronger by reminding each other of their own strengths and believing in one another).

It isn’t love. But it is something.

So, later that night, Bakugou sneaks down to the kitchen and makes a bento for Todoroki. The next day at lunch, when Todoroki is with his friends, he goes over to them and rolls his eyes at the inevitable takeout lunch. “Don’t eat that crap,” he says, pushing it aside and dropping the zaru soba bento in front of Todoroki. “Made this for you.” Todoroki smiles and thanks him. Bakugou kisses his cheek and is pulling away when Todoroki catches his wrist. “Again.” Bakugou laughs and maybe calls him “insatiable” or something and kisses him on the lips before returning to his own table.

(Kirishima and Yaoyorozu were not briefed on this. Their eyes meet in wide panic because they can’t beat that. They’re plotting across the room when Bakugou notices and waves them off.)

And Todoroki’s friends aren’t sure what just happened, so they ask. Todoroki smiles. “I figured out my type,” he tells them. “Bakugou.”

#bnha #todobaku #erasermic #kirishima/yaoyorozu #not!fic #actually wrote this back in jan 2020 but it has just sat in my google drive

98 notes · View notes

nishimochas · 3 years

Text

❁﹝ 22:41 ‣ ˢˡᵒʷ ᵈᵃⁿᶜᶦⁿᵍ ᶦⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵃʳᵏ ﹞

‣ gender neutral trainee!reader with trainee!heeseung. inspired by joji's song of the same title.

‣ tw: some slight cursing, just a whole bunch of angst.

‣ word count: 1.9k

"god, i'm such an idiot."

you swore to protect yourself against his charms.

every moment you spent with lee heeseung began to slowly feel like an incredible burden. each waking memory you still hold of him had started morphing into something you hoped you'd never live to see. he was no one you should've fallen for. in his world, you were just someone who he smiles at and greets when it's convenient.

you knew you were nothing more than a friend to him. all the times you've comforted him when he was weak, all the moments you've stayed with him when he felt alone and defeated– you knew that he didn't see any of those the way you did. or rather, the way you hoped you didn't see it. he treated you like he did everyone else: he was kind, patient, caring as he'd always been. even at times where you think his eyes hold something different within them, when his hands were too close, too gentle to not mean intimacy, you'd dismiss it all the same.

that's just how he is, and you knew you were mistaken for thinking you were any special.

you told sunghoon and jay about it before, and they seemed supportive of your feelings. it seems that they, too, see the unusual tenderness the eldest has for you. but you, thinking it was all but a delusion, you paid no mind to their observations.

"how would they understand? they're just like him. they're perfect, all of them – and i'm just me."

who could blame you, though? being close friends with such a blameless human being is already a difficult feat.

but heeseung? he was nothing short of perfect, and you knew you couldn't last so long with denial.

violent sobs threatened to break loose from your tightened throat as you walked through the halls, somber fingers erasing any memory of tears still lingering atop your features. the biggest idiot, you were. a great fool to have allowed yourself to fall for him. in painful silence, you continued your way down the dreadful atmosphere of the practice halls.

the silence didn't last for long. there were footsteps, hushed yet languid.

and suddenly– music.

melancholic, powerful, raw. it was coming from the third isle.

with brows raised in query you approached, half hopeful and half hating the fact that it could very much be the one person you so wished to not see at the moment. still, your curiousity led you to the glass doors of the dance room, your witless bravery encouraging you to look further.

and to nobody's glorious surprise, there he was. he always looked perfect, but it took your breath away each time just the same.

holding a still and quiet breath had never felt like such a taxing job until that moment. you could barely move from your cramped position, let alone watch him properly in the dim lit room. a part of you was screaming, furious that you'd still let yourself indulge in such a luxury despite the aching you'd already gotten yourself into. but a bigger part was paralyzed. a bigger part fought– it wanted to do nothing more than to stay and be mesmerized.

you've forgotten how agonizing it was to watch heeseung move the way he does when he's vulnerable. it was as if every inch in his body sang along to the melody of the song, each telling their own parts of his tragic tale.

oh, how you loved how he danced when you were the only one watching. he hit every beat with such precision and delicacy that you couldn't help but stare every time you spectate. he always manages to catch you off guard, every single time.

you spent the rest of the few moments as a faraway audience, watching through a small sliver of the glass door from where you hoped he didn't see you. but just as quickly, that thought wavered off and you're caught in shock as your gaze met his through the mirror, and you could've sworn his eyes glowed when he saw you. no, it couldn't be– it was impossible. maybe you we're just making it all up in your head. and maybe your dismay was just as evident as you thought you'd confirmed it, the heartbeat's worth of crossing glances broken apart as the next verse of the song played.

how pathetic of you, really– to think that someone like him would look forward to seeing you. you were a nobody compared to him, and maybe things were meant to stay that way. but then, just as you were about to turn away, his eyes meet yours once more for a few beats before moving away again. it was tantalizing, how such a small thing was capable of luring you in. it was as if he's saying, 'stay. watch me. i know you're here.'

it would be a lie if you said you didn't want to keep on watching.

the thundering in your chest only doubled as he did it again for the third time, now nearing the end of the song. his porcelain skin glistened as the light reflected upon it, and you felt something within you wrench upon the sight.

there was no denying it anymore. you were in love with lee heeseung, and there was no changing it.

the thought settled into you bitterly, but somewhere along the lines lied hope also.

the atmosphere shook with quiet breathing as the song met it's end, his gaze not leaving the floor beneath him. tearing your own eyes away from his figure, you began to stand up; it was time for you to go. and just as you started walking, you heard that painstakingly familiar voice piercing through again.

"wait," god, you could recognize that voice from miles away.

"stay."

your tracks were brought to an abrupt halt, not yet finding the nerve to turn around and face him. heeseung made it clear in his tone that he was talking to you, but your tremendous idiocy decided to state the obvious nonetheless.

"...me?" you both knew the answer. a few seconds of silence, then a sigh from behind you. those seconds felt like forever.

"look at me." you hated hearing those words, hated having to follow them even more. but you did. you turned around just as he told you to, and there he was by the door, holding it open with the weight of his shoulders. another sigh escaped his lips. you stood there, frozen, waiting for his next words.

"dance with me."

the words rang through you like a riddle; it took every ounce of restraint not to look at him like he was a lunatic. it was a simple request– yet, given how you've been dealing with your emotions, the request took such a toll on your barely comprehending mind. and, as if he understood every question that flooded your system, he went back inside the studio, gesturing you to follow has he did. despite the internal war that seized your entire body, you followed suite.

you stood near the entrance with your head hung low, wishing at that very moment for the earth to open up and swallow you whole. your fingers twiddled with each other in an awkward tangle as you waited for him to speak again. not long after, he finally did.

"remember you did a choreo with me once, the one after auditions?" of course you remembered it, you couldn't get your mind off of it since it happened.

"how could i forget? it was one of my favorite songs." your remark was met with a chuckle, and as if on cue, joji's slow dancing in the dark echoed within the confinements of the practice room. the movements came over to heeseung naturally, and you fought the instinct of it rushing through your own. he seemed to have noticed it, too. next thing you knew, your hands were in his and he's leading you to the middle.

"come on, i know you still remember the moves." he teased, a hint of a grin tugging at the corners of his lips. you couldn't help but chuckle along, shaking your head slightly in feigned embarrassment as you gave into the music and danced along with him. it still felt as intimate and forlorn as before, maybe even more so now. the small, still furious part within you wanted to tear itself apart every time your body met his touch; and as the song came to an end with you in his arms, at that moment, it seemed like the only thing that mattered.

"oh god, are you alright?" he fussed as he saw your reflection on the practice mirror. you barely noticed the tears that came flooding out, the pooling they made on the shirt that you wore. you nodded slightly, looking up to give heeseung a little half-hearted smile. without missing a beat, he wrapped his arms around you, enveloping your frame in a warm embrace. you couldn't tell what was happening, why the tears wouldn't stop, why you still feel horrible after all of it. he broke it off shortly and instead took your face into his cupped palms, tilting your head upwards so he could study your distressed visage.

still, the tears fell. no matter how much effort you'd placed into stopping them, they fell still. heeseung watched you intently, troubled and with worry lingering across his eyes. and as they kept falling still, he leaned in slowly towards where they were falling, and one by one, kissed the teardrops away.

"heeseung, i dont understand..."

"i heard what you said to sunghoon and jay. i was in the other room. i didn't mean to eavesdrop but i thought i heard your voice and... well, yeah."

your felt your heart drop into your stomach, a dry lump now beginning to form in your throat. the last thing you'd have wanted at that moment was for heeseung to know, but as it turns out, it seemed as if your worst fear has manifested in from of you.

you had no other choice now.

you shook your head as you mused a broken laugh, the next few words that came out of your mouth more poisonous to you than it was to him.

"i love you." you shrugged, half expecting him to turn away right as you said those words. "i guess there's no point in denying that now."

heeseung's breath started becoming uneven as his grip around you loosened, and you could almost see you the words as they started to unfold within his frenzied mind. he shook it off with a rather harsh jolt, and you took it as your cue to start leaving. you dismissed it, too, and began stepping away from his hold. it hurt as much as you expected it to.

"i know it's the stupidest thing, god i swear im so sorry, i really didn't mean–"

...oh.

you had no idea how it happened, why he thought of it or what made him do it but a small voice within you told you to savor it, so you did. his lips pressed against yours with a dulcet warmth and you wanted more, more more– you gave him everything at that moment, and he gladly gave you just as much, too. he tasted so sweet and so addicting, better than anything you could've possibly hoped for. and as your own tiers finally parted from his, saturated with the desperate need for air, the ghost of the words you thought you'd never hear from him urged out as he whispered;

"i love you, too. i have since the start."

❁ :: did i really need to hurt myself that much? no. but life isn't fair, janet, now repeat after me: giVE ME REASONS WE SHOULD BE COMPLETE–

186 notes · View notes

timextoxhajima · 3 years

Text

GEN Z SERIES, HYUNJAE: The Third Eye

"Will you choose to believe what you see or what you feel?”

Member: Hyunjae

Genre: Fantasy / Slice of Life / Supernatural / Angst / TW

Trigger Warnings: Rape, Self-Harm

Word Count: 5.8k

Taglist: @yn-am-pm @fleurseoul @sunwoowuvbot

The first time I knew I saw something that wasn't there, I was scared. How was an eight-year-old supposed to treat an elderly man who looked closer to a skeleton than a human being standing in the corner of the room... of an elderly's home?

I remember my mother combing my grandmother's hair while my father was helping me pick up my crayons off the floor when I saw him. Nurses were walking down the corridors in a hurry. I remember nobody noticed -- or at least, unlike the conventional way of death that has been portrayed in movies and books by the very cliché usage of the flatlining on the monitor. He had a good amount of hair for an old man in his nineties.

Then again, it might've been his deteriorating health that made him look older than he actually was when he died. Time seemed to pass a lot slower when they let me see them. Unlike the way his skin seemed to sink in between his ribs and wrap around the bones of his arms, his eyes were full of light. The kind that I recognised when I was at school. I didn't know then, because I was just a child he realised could see his soul. But I will never forget the blessing he placed on the top of my head. Every single word etched into my mind like carved into stone.

I told my grandmother about the man I saw earlier that day when my parents went to talk to the nurses of the elderly home. She was scared at first, when she realised her grandchild had abilities that not many had. Yet, she never told my parents, because she knew they would convince themselves that they could do something about it -- as if one could really remove the powers of a third eye all so easily.

Angels are not beings with wings or halos but instead, a bright orb of gold and white. The old man waved so dearly to me, after giving his children and grandchildren a kiss atop their heads though they couldn't feel it. He was 88, auspicious numbers in many cultures. Then when the orb of light drifted in through the window, I remember I could almost hear the sounds of kittens and puppies. But just as it neared him, I heard the familiar sounds of laughter from his children and grandchildren, then static sounds of radio and music I didn't recognise. I will later find out that the music belonged in the 40s.

The orb presents you with everything you've loved and enjoyed and held close to your heart in your life, and should you be content with what the orb has to offer you, then it must be time for you to go.

But where there is light, there is darkness. Where there are orbs of smiles and flowers, there are daggers of blood and evil lurking in the shadows. I was 13 when I saw evil in one of its many forms. I had a headache the entire day, a sign to tell me that my third eye is in close proximity with something that did not align with my believes and morals.

I had expected something to jump out at me through the reflection off the mirror, or a hand to burst through the ground and grab me by the ankle. But no, evil in one of its many forms does not need it to be horrifying and scary.

Her hair was long, and her face was covered in what looked like burn marks.

Does Hell burn through you so quickly?

She looks human, but her fingers were split down the middle, thorns sticking out every finger, in which on each hand she has ten.

As she graced the corridors of school, she sheds these thorns that drop like nails to the floor, waiting for someone to step on those facing upwards. Have you ever gotten a sharp ache or pinch in the soles of your feet when you're walking sometimes?

If you have, then you would've probably stepped on a Hell's Thorn, or at least, that's what I called it. I never found out if she could see me, but when I realised I could touch the thorns and kick them out of sight, they'd roll off into some corner before dissolving into red ash.

Over a decade of being stuck between two worlds. I've done enough reading to understand the dangers of prancing along this line, not being able to shut one side off completely. So, when the ghosts, demons and spirits hide in the shadows of my room, or stare at me point-blank in the middle of the day like a normal human being would, it becomes normal.

They are everywhere, even when you cannot feel them. It gets confusing, when they look more human than some human beings.

Just how much longer... or how much more can I stay like this?

"I don't know where your diary is. If you're telling me it's here, then I'm telling you it's gone."

You are standing right smack in the middle of the school field, afternoon sun beaming down onto your hair. Squinting your eyes, you look around the large space of artificial grass and beyond that, the tracks, where students were finding some fun in running laps in the summer heat.

"But..."

"Lee Eun," Your heart breaks, more than necessary, because this is not the first time you've done it. "What you're looking for isn't here. The building your locker was in was torn down 20 years ago and if it was there, it's gone now. Or at least..." She watches you turn around and stare at the ground beneath your feet. "It's not here anymore."

Lee Eun was a student from your school that graduated in 2000. But she lost her life the day she graduated, only because she hadn't seen the brick falling from the nearby construction site where the school building you attended now was being built.

The silence becomes unbearable so you look up, but you only see the two male students jogging along the track and nobody else in sight. The orb did not come to collect Lee Eun's soul; this is not over.

The sweat has stuck your uniform to your back when you return to class, and it becomes apparent to you that a particular shadow has not shifted an inch since you've stepped into the classroom. You weren't in pain, so this entity is not a demon. Yet, you cannot identify its gender. It had no face, no hair, just... a volume of shadow and darkness and if the girls sitting before it knew it was there, they'd probably scream their head off.

You know its staring at you with every intention in its spirit, though you cannot see its eyes. And it stays when the teacher enters the classroom with a new student trailing behind him. For a moment, your attention is diverted to Jang Jun Hyuk, hair brown and skin fair. The girls in the class were already ogling over him, it's not a surprise anymore. But the shadow turns to look at him, then at you, and the darkness dissolves into the beige wall behind it, vanishing as Jang Jun Hyuk bows and introduces himself.

Then the king of the class speaks at a volume you know you weren't supposed to hear, but consider it a special talent now that you've honed the skills of your third eye.

"Strange vibes," Lee Hyunjae was probably talking to Younghoon. "Don't you think there's something off about him?"

"Are you sure you're not just threatened that there's someone who rivals our popularity?"

Jang Jun Hyuk bows to the class, then is instructed by the teacher to take a seat diagonally behind you, right in front of Lee Hyunjae.

"Hey, new kid."

A frown gently presses itself into your forehead when you can hear Younghoon give Hyunjae a gentle whack on his shoulder.

"Where did you move from?"

"Ah, I moved from another city. My father was transferred."

The shadow was now standing by the door of the classroom, watching the teacher scribble on the whiteboard.

"Cool," Hyunjae offers a friendly laugh. That's more like him. "Join us at lunch, provided you don't have a crowd to hang out with yet."

“Uh, sure.”

The shadow turns to look at you -- even without eyes, you know it’s watching you.

By the time you have been dragged to the cafeteria by your friends (though most people tend to think you’re weird for talking to yourself sometimes), Hyunjae has doubled over on some bench cracking up at a joke Jun Hyuk made.

Your friends can’t help but to draw your attention to the new addition to the group of popular males.

“Man fits right in, doesn’t he?”

“At least he looks like one of them.”

“y/n,” One of the two call out to you. “What happened to... what was her name?”

“Lee Eun.”

“Right, the ghost from twenty years ago. How is she?”

The two look at you with wide, glistening eyes. Most people aren’t as accommodating to your abilities, so it’s a blessing to have them by your side.

“I haven’t seen her since earlier today. She said she had a diary in school but she never found it.”

“Well, maybe it is still in school somewhere, locked up in some lost and found box or lost in some locker. Why else would she still be here and can’t... you know, move on?”

You shrug. I wish I knew.

The library was always comforting. The silence, the sound of pages being flipped and the occasional clicking of someone’s keyboard. And strangely enough, the library’s never really a hotspot for other beings except humans.

The peace was, unfortunately, disrupted though, when Jun Hyuk shows up with his backpack and tie neat around his collar. You greet him subtly before returning to your notes, but he sits down opposite you and renders your desire to be alone useless.

“Hyunjae and Younghoon told me you would be here.”

The pen in your grip gets lowered into the ivory sheets, gaze travelling up to look at him through your lashes. “Lee Hyunjae and Kim Younghoon? Why would they tell you where I am?”

Jun Hyuk offers a shy smile, diverting his brown irises away from you for a second. “Because I asked.”

The cold air stings your nose when you suck in a deep breath. “Why, do you need help with work? Because I’m literally the worst person to ask--”

“No, I just needed to know where I could find you so I could spend time with you.”

Your heart begins to thump madly, because it’s not everyday that a guy is so straightforward with his intentions to someone he just met.

“Uh--” You purse your lips in a bid to form a coherent sentence. “That’s really... honest of you.”

Jun Hyuk grins sweetly, eyes halving into crescents and creasing his skin around his lids. He has a dimple in his left cheek, a detail that you wouldn’t have noticed if he wasn’t sitting directly opposite you.

“So, can I?”

Confusion strikes you, only because assumption is a dangerous thing we like to do.

“Can you... what?”

“Hang out with you.”

The whir of the air-conditioner in the library becomes a little louder alongside the thumping that was now difficult to ignore in your head.

The blood rushes up to your cheeks and you can feel your face catching fire, so Jun Hyuk eases it by restarting a conversation.

“Anyway, have you done the work from today?”

“I--” You look down at the worksheet he was taking out from his bag. It’s barely filled. “I’ve been staring at it for awhile now--”

“Not good at Math?”

“I’m better at...” Jun Hyuk takes the worksheet and gets up, scooting over to the seat next to you. A gulp finds a way down your throat. “...English and Literature...”

“Well, it’s your lucky day because I’m great at Math.”

Up close, Jin Hyuk smells like fresh linen.

Not a great sign. He knows what makes a girl tick.

Jun Hyuk spends the rest of the afternoon helping you with the worksheet, and the glimmer in his eyes...

“Are you listening?”

Your jaw slacks in surprise, blinking your attention away from staring at him. A chuckle sounds from Jun Hyuk, who looks away with the slightest hint of pride.

Jun Hyuk makes you feel like you are prancing on clouds for the next few weeks. The little notes he passed in class that earned the attention of his new friends, Younghoon and Hyunjae. The sweets and treats that he’d leave on your desk before school and the after-school study sessions were your favourite part of the day.

He’d expected you to be calm and collected when he took the initiative to hold your hand under the table, but he could read how nervous and anxious you got, so he thinks it’s a good idea to ease that anxiety with a kiss on your cheek.

Lee Eun was no longer around to ask you for her diary, but the faceless shadow was still tailing you when you were in the classroom. It’s never interfered with your daily routine though, thus you choose to leave it be and enjoy being a normal teenager for once.

Three months after you met Jun Hyuk though, you could tell Hyunjae was deliberately steering away from him, dragging Younghoon along with him. You can’t help but wonder if it was because you and Jun Hyuk were now romantically involved and that Hyunjae had probably caught wind of the fact that you could see things that weren’t there, leading him to ostracise Jun Hyuk.

Not that it had that much effect anyway, Jun Hyuk was a charming boy on his own; he didn’t need Hyunjae’s help to ‘make it’ in school.

The day carries on as per usual with Jun Hyuk staying in school to study with you. Hands busy scribbling away and eyes darting across worksheets, you’ve always admired how focussed he gets when he does his work.

In attempt to pull him out of his stress-bubble, you cap on your pen and lean into him, resting your head on his shoulder after making sure there was nobody else left in the library.

“Do you want to take a break? You’ve been going at it for quite some time now.”

“I’m just about there, just hold on a minute, would you?”

A pout surfaces on your lips. “I know. I just... do you ever feel bad that Hyunjae and Younghoon aren’t as close to you as before?”

Jun Hyuk finishes the line he’s writing and looks up at you. “Why would I?”

“I don’t know, I just... you must’ve heard the rumor that I can see ghosts. Aren’t you upset that they might be leaving you out because of that?”

“You can see ghosts?” He scoffs. His attitude feels strange today, though he hasn’t said anything wrong. “That’s just stupid. And no, I don’t really care.”

“Oh,” A pause halts you, so you can think of an appropriate response. “You don’t... believe in ghosts or spirits?”

“No, that stuff is for kids.”

The thought of Jun Hyuk not believing in something you were known to be able to see was strangely more discomforting than not.

“Why’d you ask about Hyunjae and Younghoon? I thought you weren’t close with those guys?” He’s placing his pens into his pencil case and keeping his worksheets in his file. You start doing the same.

“I-- I’m not, I’m just asking for your sake.”

“My sake?” He clears the table of his items and leans back in his seat. “Why would it bother me? Is it because you don’t get to talk to them anymore?”

“What? Why would that matter to me?”

“I don’t know, you were pretty smitten with Hyunjae just a few weeks ago.”

“Since when?”

“You think I didn’t notice when you were smiling at him when he was making those jokes-- they weren’t even that funny?”

A frown has finally cemented itself between your brows. “I’m sorry, where is this jealousy even coming from? Why didn’t you just tell me when you saw it?”

Jun Hyuk goes silent, and you can tell he’s upset just by thinking about it. Sighing, you rest your head on his shoulder again in a bid to appease his anger.

“Alright, I’m sorry, okay? I was just concerned that you might feel left out or anything. And rest assured, I wasn’t flirting with Hyunjae.”

Jun Hyuk hums in response, reaching your chin to pull you closer. Your heart starts to pound in your ear when he doesn’t hesitate to press his lips against yours, the sudden intimacy catching you off-guard and sending chills down your spine.

Something doesn’t feel right.

“Jun--” You manage to cough out, just as he starts to bury his nose and lips into your neck. “Jun Hyuk, not here.”

“Come on, there’s nobody here. Isn’t it exciting?” He smirks into your skin but it makes you feel dirty.

“Jun, we really shouldn’t. I’m tired today so...” Gently pushing him off, his eyes are now filled with the ache of rejection. Somewhere inside you, you hope that he understands. But you also hope he knows he’s being an asshole.

“I... I think I’m going to go,” Backing away, you can hear your heart in your ears as you reverse, returning to the table to clear your stationery. His footsteps come dangerously close behind you before you are yanked around violently, each of your elbows coming into tight restraint in his palms.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“I’m going home,” When your eyes meet his, they are dark under the lighting. And even then, it seems like the man you trusted had turned to dust and blown away in the wind. “Please, let me go.”

“But don’t you trust me? Didn’t you say that you didn’t know what you’d do without me?” It’s horrifying when his nose comes dangerously closely to yours, his lips that were once part of a daydream now slowly being torn to shreds, forming an idea of a nightmare in your mind.

If you could feel darkness, you were sure you could hurl out nothing but black masses, when he aggressively pastes his lips to yours. There’s a stark difference being in love and being trustworthy... and being this person who was cutting off the blood supply from your face to your mouth now.

“Let me go, please!” Your strength is rendered useless in his tight grip around your wrists, and now he decides to shift his tongue to your neck, harshly sucking on the skin and flesh and making you want to hurl and sob instead. The struggle you offered was of no use to Jun Hyuk, not when he is able to shove you backwards and plaster your back to the study desk with all your pens and pencils under your back.

“Do you know what you’re getting yourself into?!”

“You should’ve thought about that before you kissed me first in the garden the other day, no?”

The tears finally stream when the betrayal sets in. Not even prayers would work anymore, would they?

Using his upper body weight to hold you to the table, the metal clinking of his belt comes like a warning when you can feel the tears wetting the strands of your hair.

“Jun Hyuk, please...”

“Shut up,” Ice cold fingers run up the length of your thighs and around your hips under your skirt, scratching your skin as he removes your underwear. “Isn’t this how much you trust me?”

Sobs run through gritted teeth as your chin tilts to the ceiling, his body absorbing every ounce of struggle and force you were exerting on him. But, it was so easily drained into him that you were gradually turning limp and lifeless. Hearing him undo his zipper while he wets and marks your skin with his tongue and teeth shuts off all your senses. Your eyes flutter shut with resignation, the shivering and trembling seeping away with your need to escape.

Help me.

Something fuses loudly. The lights go off.

“Who’s there?! Motherfucker!”

The zip goes back up, and the weight on you shifts away.

“I’m going to kill you!”

His voice wears away, getting softer with his footsteps.

Still crying, you pull up your underwear that was dangling at your ankles and push yourself off the surface of the table. Everything on the desk gets swept into your back before you stumble out of the secluded study area, the light of the late sunset greeting your tear stained face.

Reaching home feels like reaching the end point in a marathon, just that instead of feeling pride and glory, you were feeling nothing but worthlessness.

The lukewarm water feels like a gentle hug around your body when you sink into the cold marble, knees propped up and surfaced with your feet flat against the base of the bathtub.

Swollen eyes from crying but too tired to cry somemore, and you find difficulty in even remembering why you even fell for Jun Hyuk in the first place.

It was my fault for bringing it up. I shouldn’t have brought it up.

Maybe if I didn’t have this gift then I didn’t need to ask or worry about Jun Hyuk being ostracised. Maybe it shouldn’t be called a gift after all.

This pain is temporary, right? This small blade can do more than ease the pain. This blood that colors the water can do more than dry the tears from my eyes.

I wish I wasn’t born with this gift.

You close your eyes and let yourself sink into the tub, under the surface of the water. The water starts to feel thicker, and before you can count to five, it starts going up your nose.

But then it feels like you’ve been sucked into another dimension and thrown back onto your bed when you gasp, sitting up and choking out what feels like water in your throat.

Your hands fumble around yourself, and you wince when you look down at your wrists. The vertical cut looked more like a scar that’s already healed, rather than an injury you had chosen to inflict on yourself just hours before.

The clock strikes 3.33am, and while you would usually be kind of freaked out because 3 is not an auspicious number, you can’t help but to feel some kind of relief when you realised you were still alive.

The next few days you spend in the shadows. Jun Hyuk tries to apologise to you on more than one occasion, but when you glitch and nearly break down when he gets anywhere near you, your friends start to understand that something had happened.

Why would you want to take your life all of a sudden?

Mr. Shadowman doesn’t leave you alone though. Instead, it starts following you more aggressively, showing up in the strangest of places and in the most horrendous positions. You had seen it standing with its feet planted to the ceiling of the cafeteria, then again standing perfectly still behind the classroom door when the teacher closed it.

Then it finally follows you into the bathroom after school. You’ve changed your studying location to your classroom, so you wouldn’t need to worry about being alone.

But no matter how many times you see this shadow, seeing it curled up under the sink in the female’s toilet makes you yelp and jump backwards, not even enticing a reaction from it.

“You...” Gripping the edge of the sink, you squat and stare at it. “What do you need from me?”

“I wouldn’t go anywhere nearer to it if I were you.” Your eyes dart up into the broken glass above the sink. Seeing Hyunjae staring at you through the reflection, with the pillar hiding the rest of his body was surprising.

It dawns on you that whatever you were seeing, Hyunjae could see it too.

The shadow remained still under the sink, crouched into a mass like someone holding its knees to its chest. The water dripping from under the sink slips through the mass like it wasn’t there. Hyunjae spares you a few seconds to stare at it some more until he grabs your arm and pulls you out of the toilet.

“What the-- don’t touch me--” Yanking your wrist out of his hands, you jerk away from him. The impact pulls your sleeves upwards, revealing the bruises that Jun Hyuk had left on you just a few days ago -- and the scar of the cut down your forearm.

His attention is stolen by the marks, cuing you to nervously pull your sleeves back down as you steal a glance at Hyunjae’s face.

“Don’t interact with that thing,” He advises after a few moments of silence. “It’s been following you.”

Looking up with a harsh frown on your face, confusion and anger starts to seep through your bones.

“You mean to tell me you could see these things all this while?”

Hyunjae’s eyes fill with a tiny pinch of guilt, but he doesn’t look away.

“That thing is harmless,” Your thumb brushes across the area where the bruise was hidden under the material of your sleeve. “It saved me.”

“If it’s harmless or any bit human then why doesn’t it have a face? Or eyes or hair or a mouth?”

“So, you can’t see what it is either. Have you seen others? Ghosts, the angel orbs, demons--”

“Get this clear in your head, I am not here to discuss what you can see,” Hyunjae takes a step closer and looks at you with an expression you can’t read. Was he angry? Frustrated? Worried? Concerned?

“But do not engage with whatever that is. They only stick around if you entertain it, and right now, you are just short of becoming friends with it.”

“You make it sound like you know everything about that other world.”

“And you make it sound like you haven’t seen a demon and that there are no dangers of it.”

The proximity starts to make you anxious; his build is similar to Jun Hyuk’s and the physical confrontation starts to knock on your skull is all the ways possible. Hyunjae retreats when he notices your eyes are unable to meet his now, and he walks away with his fists clenched.

That night, you are unable to fall asleep. Not with the new revelation that Hyunjae can see the same things you do. Or was it just the shadow that he can see?

Has he seen the orbs or angels or demons?

You sit up in your bed, eyes adjusting to the darkness when a thud wakes you up. The crickets outside are loud in the silent night, but it takes you just a split second to recognise the shadow standing in the corner where the door meets the corner of the room.

Keeping your eyes peeled, you fumble around at your nightstand, searching for the button of the lamp. It doesn’t disappear though, when the amber light illuminates the cream-pink room.

“What do you need?” The query comes out more like a whisper, because most spirits you meet are ghosts who need your help or are willing to talk to you -- most of them have faces and eyes and have some resemblance to being human at some point of time in their life.

The shadow pulls itself off the wall, and turns from a flat, regular shadow into a mass of darkness; the same way it was in the classroom when you first saw it, then later under the sink in the bathroom.

This is the first time this has happened -- a shadow that was very obviously a being and yet you cannot decide if it was something harmful or something that once walked the Earth.

By now, the shadow is just about two metres away from your bed, yet you find yourself inching backwards because you cannot predict what it would (or could) do to you.

Then it lifts an arm that reaches out to you, darkness flowing like steam off its limbs as it gets closer to you. But just before it can touch you, a flash of brightness interrupts your interaction.

“Stop.”

Your room is brightly lit up for a split second, blinding you from seeing the shadow. So when your eyes come back into focus, your eyes are about to fall out of your skull when you recognise the back of someone you know.

Hyunjae was standing right next to your bed, between you and the shadow, now visibly a physical blob of darkness.

“You have no business here with her. You don’t even need to be here.”

Silence.

Hyunjae looks at the shadow intently. He is listening to it talk to him, but you hear nothing but the crickets chirping outside.

“Jang Jun Hyuk will be mine to deal with, not yours. You do not need to be here.”

Lee Hyunjae... just what are you?

“Seer but is she a...”

“What did you just say?” You blurt out when the strange croak gets to your head. Hyunjae flinches and turns around to look at you, eyes flickering with worry before turning back to the shadow.

Now, you can see blue orbs for eyes and skin pulled and stretched like it had been worn out through hundreds of years. It was neither a ghost nor human.

It didn’t look like Lee Eun or the elderly man you saw when you were 8, nor did it look like the female demon you saw at 13.

“Leave, you do not belong here.”

“To deserves she know.”

“Know what?” Impatience and fear was getting the better of you, and if Hyunjae was more than human, he would know. “...That I can see you?”

“No, she cannot know!” Hyunjae tries to block you from the ghoul. “That is not your place to tell her!”

The ghoul proves more powerful than Hyunjae and reaches right through him, creating a bright outline of his limb through Hyunjae’s chest.

“No!”

That was the last thing you hear just as the shadow touches your forehead, snapping your neck backwards and sending your memory into a dimension you cannot recognise.

“You will be blessed with eternal protection.”

That was the blessing the elderly man offered you when you were eight. Little did you know that he was merely reading a blessing pinned to your existence on its own.

"The son of Saint Michael had fallen in love with the fairy of the mortals. Saint Michael hadn’t offered the tiniest bit of worry or concern over his son becoming star-crossed lovers. Angels were meant to be with angels and fairies with fairies... Granted that even if you did know about his son’s feelings, you would eventually realise that it was against the laws of the world, for you were a gateway for the Good to seep into the mortal world. But what Saint Michael did not know was that the fairy his son had fallen in love with had stored the same amount of love he had for her in his heart.”

“The Heavens forbid star-crossed lovers between the two breeds of beings. Saint Michael himself couldn’t believe it when his son caved into his feelings right after you did. Fairies were fickle-minded; the only beings of the world of immortals that once walked the Earth as human beings. It was expected that you would provide the same love to the Archangel’s son -- but when he decided to embrace you in his all-gold halo of light... Saint Michael knew he could not afford losing the bearings of his son. He had decided that mortalising you would be a smart decision; keeping you close by letting you protect your ability to connect with this world but restraining you from ever returning to Hyunjae’s side.”

“Yet, like mortals, even immortal beings are unable to fight the strength of love. Hyunjae had decided descend to the world of the Humans and Mortals... to protect you by your side in your second life, allowing you to see him, touch him.”

The day you were reborn was the day Hyunjae had decided to humanise himself, albeit the process was draining and set him on a ticking clock from returning to the other world.

The ghoul looks at you, his blue eyes now revealing himself as a fairy who had disguised himself, in a bid to warn you before you had sold your heart to Hyunjae, something you cannot be with.

“You are paying the price for a fault that was his, do you not bear any resentment?”

The memories return. Flashes of Hyunjae smiling at you because he knew you could see him. The kisses that stained his skin because you were a mere mortal with abilities, and he was a being that was meant for more.

“How is this his fault?”

The fairy is silent, thinking of the words to say.

“Had he lived up to the responsibilities of being the son of Saint Michael, he wouldn’t have caved in.”

Your hair feels light around your shoulders, watching the fairy slowly morph into something less ambiguous.

“What would have happened if we didn’t fall in love in my first life?”

The fairy had grown wings that looks like glass, reflecting light into seven colors into the abyss beyond you. He looks at you, blue eyes never faltering.

“You would’ve become an Undine Fairy, and Hyunjae would’ve had to return to the world of the Skies--”

“And I would never see him again.”

He can see that you’ve had a glimpse into your past life; the forbidden love you had for Hyunjae now buried deep inside you. It feels like someone had just stuck a shovel 6 feet into your heart and dug out every remnant he could find.

“Would you have let him go, had he been true to his existence and you had become an Undine?”

“There’s no way I can answer that, can I?”

The fairy blinks and starts walking backwards. “The rules between the two Worlds are forged in stone, but everybody knows that the matters of the spirit and soul cannot be bound by tangible logic. Your choice depends on what you believe: will you choose to believe what you see or what you feel?”

The question echoes inside your head, and the world around you flashes brightly like you had just died and walked into heaven.

Your consciousness returns to current time, eyes fluttering open as your alarm clock rings you awake. Sitting opposite you, eyes closed as you watch him snoozing lightly despite sitting in a chair, you feel a pinch in your chest.

It’s not his fault, and never will be.

#hyunjae imagines #the boyz #the boyz hyunjae #hyunjae #the boyz imagines #the boyz fanfic #the boyz scenario #tbz imagines

77 notes · View notes

ellenoir · 3 years

Text

@doomedog and @alkalinefrog thank you both so much for asking about my baby! Of all of the Death Note characters, Near holds a very special piece of my heart. I think it's my left ventricle.

On to the soft headcanons! Requests for this are still open, so feel free to send them in!

On a side note, my Near doesn't feel much connection to gender or pronouns, they shift constantly based on immediate state of mind. Which means I will write their pronouns 'inconsistently' based on how the relevant hc makes them and me feel.

• what they smell like

The most prominent scent is the very specific, sensitive skin products they use. Milk and oatmeal based body wash, shampoo and conditioner. They also smell like unsweetened coffee from drinking so much, with an undertone of something sweetly musky that is very uniquely her, almost like old books and hot water with honey.

• what their favorite smells in the world are

They have a love/hate relationship with petrol stations, so we'll get that one out of the way first, the rest are all loved. Bedsheets on the third or fourth day on the bed, when they go from being extremely washer fresh to comfortably familiar. Raw tobacco (Watari would smoke his pipe outside the building, but Near liked the smell anyway.) Salty sea air. Peppermint or aniseed sweets. A loved ones' just removed jacket.

• what pajamas they wear/what they wear to sleep in

Near actually tends to take the bottoms off to sleep. The fabric twisting up around their legs is uncomfortable, and if it happens during sleep it can affect their dreams. They sleep in an oversized pajama top and briefs/panties, whichever one they're feeling more at the time.

• my favorite ship (if applicable) and a cute hc about them

I will ship Near with just about anyone. Mostly because I just kinda like DN turning into a big old poly puddle (thanks @resilicns for turning me onto this path lmao). Let's go SuteNia because I've been feeling their chemistry a LOT lately.

Don't get me wrong, Near likes to be held in bed as much as the next tiny. Stephen's arms help her quiet the overactive ramblings inside her skull. But I'll let you in on a little secret. They both love it best when Near is the one holding Stephen, her chin in his hair and his nose buried somewhere around his collarbone. They show each other their vulnerabilities more than anything then. Stephen shows that he's not always composed and strong, and Near shows just how much she needs him in her life. In their bed, that's their most precious moment.

• my favorite friendship (if applicable) and a cute hc about them

Okay so I love the idea of Near having quite a bit more respect for Misa than anyone else. Why? YOTSUBA👏ARC👏POWERHOUSE👏 (he also respects Matsuda even if he would advise him not to run into the building like that). Looking back on how Misa was caught, it was by sheer chance. A single strand of dyed blonde hair falling on the VHS tapes and being sealed inside the envelopes? That was an absolutely miniscule oversight that honestly impressed him greatly.

As for a cute hc? Misa and Near bond over the movie Labyrinth by Jim Henson. Near is absolutely enamored with the incredible puppets and costumes in the movie. Misa straight up loves David Bowie. Misa will sing along with Dance Magic Dance, loud and clear, and dance all around the room as it plays until Near can't help but start to sing and sway along. Misa holds out her hands, knowing not to touch without permission - and Near actually reaches out and takes them, lets her pull him up and start to dance!

• a song that reminds me of them

Hrrmmmm... Hollow and Sorry About Your Parents by Icon for Hire, weirdly enough Sober by P!nk, and Teeth on a String by Stick and Poke. Yeah, all of these songs are sad, and TW for undertones of an abusive relationship on the last one. If I had to pick a nice song for Near... Oh, I know! The Show by Lenka!

• what animal i think they would be if they were an animal

Cat. Easy pick. Near likes to do things on their own terms and their own schedule and does not care much for how other people want them to behave at each moment. However, they love deeply and fiercely and will tolerate a surprising amount of annoying behaviour from someone who is in their pack (my beagle can almost jump on one of my cats and he adores her, despite him being skittish and not hesitating to swat when he's sick of paws almost squashing him). Enjoy to simply sit in the presence of a loved one and do their own thing compared to constant need for direct conversation and interaction. Will hiss, growl and swat when displeased and does not suffer fools gladly.

• what position they sleep in

Loosely curled on her right side, grabbing the pillow and pulling it down towards her front, under a heavy weighted blanket. Near has her hands gently curled in front of her, somewhere between her breastbone and nose. Her legs fold up beneath her, her right leg a little bit tighter to keep her balance as the left leg falls on top. At one point, she looks at body pillows and finds the full wrap around designs. Its love at first sight. She gets one delivered and almost immediately drops off the first time she pairs it with her beloved heavy blanket

• their favorite drink

They subsist on large amounts of coffee (small amounts of milk to offset the bitterness), but its not quite their favourite. Near loves boba! Honeydew, almond, matcha and the classic are her top choices.

• a gift i would give them if i could

What do you give someone with everything...? I would like... If they accept it? Companionship. The fact that Near keeps working with Halle, Rester and Gevanni even years later makes me think they would like some sort of reliable, consistent company. They do have a sort of loneliness that they have to endure, the kind that comes from being the strange one, the out of place one, the one who has trouble connecting to people.

I'm not sure if I could think of anything else. Maybe make them a drawing, or find them some interesting or intricate toys they might like.

#headcanons #death note headcanons #dn #death note #near #nate river

25 notes · View notes

virtual-luvr · 4 years

Text

Not fair

Pairing: Sero x Reader

Pronouns: gender neutral; they/them

Warning: angst at first, if theres anything else i should tag as a warning pls tell me <3

Description: did Sero really not notice how much you liked him??

Note: this is defenetly not based off of my daydreaming before going to bed

------------------

Sero had his knees tucked to his chest, head held down so that nobody noticed the tears pricking from his eyes. Big droplets falling onto the fabric of his U.A uniform.

He is breath hitches hearing footsteps near him. He desperately hopes no one catches him, god, it be embarrassing if someone caught him crying.

He didn't want people to think of him as weak.

The footsteps suddenly stop and a figure is sat right in front of him

The figure crouches down and pats Sero's head

Sero looks back at the figure, tears streaming down his face still and he raises both his shaky hands to desperately clean his tears away.

"What's wrong Sero?" You say, tilting your head to the side, worried for your friend

You sit down in front of him, a small frown etched onto your face

"I-its nothing" he hics and stutters while standing up, trying to move his wobbly legs

You swiftly stand up with him and catch him when he's about to fall

"Please Sero talk to me, what's wrong?"

He just sighs, looking down at fiddling with his hands he only give you a small response saying, "its okay, i have to go to class"

And before you could utter out another word he's running off to his classroom.

The frown on your face is back and you grumble as you walk to your own classroom, dragging your feet against the floor.

Even through your whole lecture you were thinking about how you caught Sero in that state, you were seriously worried.

Walking out of the classroom your eyes meet with Ururaka and she gives you a kind smile. Waving at her you run your way over to her and say your greetings towards everyone else in the group.

"Hey Ururaka I need to talk with you"

She gives you a small "hm?" And you both walk somewhere more private other cooing and whistling seeing you both walk alone

Sero sees this and frowns, thinking just like the others that it was a confession and it makes him remember the reason why he was having that breakdown in the first place.

No one liked him, atleast not in that way. Or well thats what he thought.

Not like he'd tell anyone that though

That would be weird, wouldnt it?

Back to you and Ururaka

She softly gasps when you tell her the news, covering her mouth her eyes well up with small tears similar to how Sero was before. She hated seeing or hearing that her friends are sad and when you told her the news she almost broke down as well.

"Do you know why he was like that??" She asks while rubbing at her eyes

"Im not sure, he ran off before i could really ask. But i wanted you to know just in case you could maybe help. I've tried to talk to him these days but he's ignored me" you frown for the third time that day, by your own words at that.

Its really made you sad that he's been ignoring you.

She puffs out her cheeks, her eyes filled with determination, "dont worry (Y/N) ill make sure to find out whats the cause of it, just leave to me!"

And just like that shes off as well

You grab your backpack and hold on tight to it while walking to the cafeteria to get some food

--------------

Sero walked with his friends, head hung low and his usual smile was duller then how it normally was.

"Hey a little birdie told us they saw you crying, are you okay Sero?" Ururaka abruptly says

"What-?" Sero looks at her, chuckling nervously, rubbing at the back of his neck, a habit of his.

"They were really worried about you, did something happen Sero?"

He really felt cornered this time, all his friends waiting for his answer. He chewed on nails and gave out a sigh.

"Its just not fair" he says

"All you guys are so pretty, and smart. And your quirks are amazing and then there's just me with...tape"

They all stood shock and bewildered

Sero keeps on talking

"And ive seen so many people confess to you guys!! Ive never even gotten one confession, i feel like nobody like me in...that way"

He sat there, talking as if there clearly wasn't a person who had a crush on him,

When the person from the next door class has been crushing on him since the day they met.

As if you weren't around the corner listening to what he had to say

Did he really not notice your feelings for him?

You were sad to see him talk so bad about himself, you had never seen him act this way

"Are you an idiot?"

"I cant believe you said that in front of us, in front of (Y/N)!"

"What about (Y/N)?? They're not here--"

God he really was oblivious

"Im here Sero" you walk around the corner giving Sero a sad smile

"Oh (Y/N) hey-"

"Sero that's really not manly of you to say, we all love you, (Y/N) especially!"

You blush at Kirishimas comment, "hey stop it no need to tell Sero that"

"Tell me what?" Sero looks between the both of you, still oblivious to everything

Everybody mentally facepalms except you, they had enough of you both pining for each other without even noticing the others feelings

Ururaka and Kirishima push you closer towards each other and then everyone in group besides you two run away as fast as possible.

An awkward silence falls on the both of you

"Uhm-"

"Sero i dont know how you haven't noticed yet but i really like you please dont think that nobody likes you in that way because i do and have for a long time i mean you barely have any brain cells sometimes but thats okay because i dont either and your smile brightens up my day plus when you use your tape for pranks i find it really funny and-"

You stop your rambling, you didn't want to embarrass yourself just in case he didn't like you in that way

You look at Sero in the eyes and he smiles so brightly it makes your heart melt

There it is

The smile you fell in love with.

Small tears well up in the corners of his eyes and you inch your hands towards his face to wipe them away, but he grabs your face and pulls you toward him

Crashing his lips against yours he smiles into the kiss, you stumble a bit but try to stand your ground even while Sero has a death grip on your collar

"Ser- wAit- we're in pubLIC" you yell out in between kisses

You grab at the back of his uniform so you can at least pull him back from you to breath a bit but its useless, he keeps on kissing you and you receive small pecks all around your face.

"Im guessing thats an 'i like you back'" you say out of breath

"Hell yeah!!"

[1212 words; august/8/2020]

241 notes · View notes

honeybeeadventures · 3 years

Text

ALICE IN BORDERLAND || a honeybeeadventures review

FULL DISCLOSURE: This review may be a little bit biased and that's gonna have to be okay this time because boy, do I LOVE this show.

If you're a fan of foreign tv shows and you haven't heard of Alice in Wonderland by now, then you may be living under a rock. This show, which premiered during the holiday season of the treacherous year known as 2020, is Netflix's most popular live-action adaptation to date. Yes, that's right, adaptation. That is because Alice in Borderland is based on the manga of the same name written and illustrated by Haro Aso.

This time, I will try to hold back all of my spoilers since this show is full of twists and turns and honestly, deserves a blank first impression going into it. I want to make sure that everyone who watches this show because of my review gets to experience it fully without my recapping the events haha. I will try to summarize without ruining anything, though.

Alice In Borderland is a Netflix Japan Original Adaptation of the manga that bears its namesake by Haro Aso which originally ran from April 2011 to April 2016. The show premiered on Netflix on December 10, 2020, and just 14 days later, a second season was confirmed by Netflix.

The show follows Arisu Ryohei and his friends after they witness fireworks in the middle of the day and are dropped into another world where most of the people in Shibuya are gone and the only way to survive is to risk their lives playing games that extend their visas and their right to live in that world. Every game is treacherous and usually ends with a loss of life, though some games do have finite solutions that can save players and preserve their well-being. Along the way, Arisu ( a name which is the Japanese way of pronouncing Alice, by the way ) meets a cast of characters that will seem fairly familiar to you if you've ever seen, read, or really have ever even heard of Alice in Wonderland by Lewis Carrol or any of its adaptations.

I typically talk about diversity when I review shows, however, as this is a Japanese show, it's not really fair or easy to judge them on that metric because of course, everyone in the show is Japanese ( as they should be since the manga is set in Tokyo ). However, I will say that in the show, there is a character who says that everyone is free to sleep with whoever they want, no matter what gender and there is also a character that is a part of the Alphabet Mafia ( LGBTQIA+ ... I should make a glossary for this blog lol ). While only one ( confirmed ) members of the Alphabet Mafia isn't a lot, it is based on a manga, and considering the manga is written/illustrated by a Japanese man who was in his 30s at the time, I'm gonna chalk that up as the progressiveness of Haro Aso while still wanting to keep his audience.

Now, down to what you really came here for. I'll list the scores below before we get into why I gave them these scores.

Originality of Content: 8/10

Production Quality: 9/10

Resolution: 6/10

Acting/Cast Members: 10/10

Ability to Keep Interest: 10/10

Provocation: 8/10

Obviously, this show did really well by my standards, and here's the breakdown so you can see why.

Originality of Content: 8/10

If we're being honest here, Alice in Borderland definitely isn't the first manga/anime based on the premise of playing a game to survive or get somewhere in the world ( see: Kakegurui, No Game: No Life, .hack//, Gamble Fish, etc. or Rengoku Dead Role which is actually...very similar to AIB ). However, despite this, it still feels like there's some strong originality brought to this concept. Combining the Japanese love for games and a classical western story gives Alice In Borderland just what it needs to easily become a fan favorite. As someone who really favors game-based anime and manga ( because I really favor game design ), I think that the way that Alice In Borderland is a refreshing nod to the genre.

There's a couple of reasons for this but I'll boil it down to just two. The first is that it's not predictable. The issue with a lot of the game-based animes that I'm familiar with is that they are fairly predictable since most games work the same way, but with Alice In Borderland that is different. The rules to each game that is played seem so simple that they seem deceptive but they also seem complex in the way that a riddle is simple yet complex. Every answer that first comes to your mind is probably going to be wrong and you need to think about it more deeply than that. Sometimes, when the rules of the game were being explained, I found myself wanting to pause to see if I could figure out the solution of the game, too, as I watched Arisu think of it, as well.

The second reason is that Alice In Borderland keeps things fresh with its cast of characters. Rather than some characters being evil because that's 'just the way they are', Alice In Borderland really speaks to the effect of the pressure that is put on young people to succeed and how that can end up in them being more mentally lost than they were, to begin with. It also highlights struggles with gender identity, self-worth, complex family relationships, and living up to one's potential. It does this in such a way that even when a character is downright evil, such as Niragi ( IYKYK), there is almost a feeling of pity for them. This isn't because you sympathize with their actions but more so because it isn't difficult to see how the pressure of life turned them into this monster that you are now watching there. I also enjoyed the fact that there wasn't as much dramatic irony in this show as in many others. While dramatic irony is never a necessarily bad thing, it was nice to genuinely be surprised when a character did something instead of knowing that someone was plotting behind someone else's back.

Production Quality: 9/10

This is a statistic that comes with an asterisk of context and that context is that before this, I had been watching Uchu Sentai Kyuranger and if you know what the production quality of that is like then you understand how it may have influenced this show's score a bit. Even without the comparison fallacy of the two, though, AIB scores high in production quality for one reason more than any other to me. For a show with a lot of blood and death, I wasn't unwilling to believe that these people had actually died. Yes, I'm sure that no actors were harmed in the making of this series, however, if I was a little more naive, I might've doubted that a bit. After all, Live Action adaptations are definitely not known for their believability. I will give AIB the benefit of the doubt in saying that this concept wasn't that difficult to pull off since most of the injuries were similar to what you'd expect on your typical action movie set ( compared to...you know...something involving sci-fi or fantasy) but even in the scenes where people get their necks blown off by explosive collars, it looked like they were nearly decapitated...the way that you would expect if someone's neck was blown off by an explosive collar. All in all, if you want to believe it, you will. It's definitely not a hard stretch.

Resolution: 6/10

Okay, okay, so if you've read the manga or have even glanced at the r/AliceInBorderlandLive subreddit then you know this is kind of an unfair score since...well, they're not done. There's more to the story and the eight episodes that we've seen thus far are only about a third of what AIB has to offer since the manga has two sequels, one of which will be finished on Feb. 18 of this year. However, I will see that statement and raise it with "What if it hadn't been such a great success?" I'm all for ending on cliffhangers to force the network or in this case, Netflix to continue your show but since the first season of AIB covers so much of the storyline, it almost feels wrong to end it short the way that it did. I did like how they had the big reveal of the villain at the end and the way they showed what was coming next but it did feel a little anti-climactic when I realized I was on the last episode since it seemed more like a mid-season break type end instead of a season finale. Since there is a sequel to AIB, I wasn't feeling too discouraged but it's definitely something to think about when watching. If you don't plan on reading the manga, you might be left content starving and questioning until sometime near the end of 2021.

Acting/Cast Members: 10/10

If I was just scoring this show on acting, then it would've gotten an all-kill because each and every single actor in this show from the side characters like Nijiro Murakami and Dori Sakurada to Kento Yamazaki who plays Arisu himself is beyond talented and amazing. It is important to remember that all of the characters in this show had a life before they were transported to the Borderland and in this twisted world, something about the changes that make them different than before so in a way, these actors are responsible for not only playing the characters but also the characters past selves before this growth period in which they change into something either completely opposite or completely different than who they were before.

Somehow, this cast manages to take characters that are already so established ( in the manga ) and become them to the point that looking at them within the role and looking at them outside of the role, it almost seems as if they are really two completely different people. As I said before, some of the characters in Alice In Borderland have a correlation to characters from Alice in Wonderland and have their own unique backgrounds on top of that. This gives to the depth of the characters and makes them dynamic but on top of that, it makes them complex, and yet, these actors seem to have the act of embodying these characters down so well that it astonishes me to see them in other roles and know that it's the same person.

I'll be breaking down my three favorite performances to give you a bit of insight on the reason why this show's cast is well-worth looking into.

Dori Sakurada as Niragi Suguru

So let's be honest here, as much as we all like to pretend that we're immune to someone being attractive just because they also prove to be an awful person, but if we're being honest with ourselves, we're not and I am most certainly no exception to that rule. Dori Sakurada is a handsome man whose good looks are only matched in quality by his amazing acting skills. If you're familiar with his work then you know exactly what I'm talking about and if you're not, then I'd recommend watching 3B no Koibito ( Available with English subs on Youtube ) or Scum's Wish ( Available on Rakuten Viki ) to get an idea of how varied this man's acting skills are. In AIB, he plays a character that is somewhat villainous and can almost be classified as your stereotypical movie sociopath. Yet, still, there's something intriguing beyond just his good looks. Dori Sakurada's performance breaths new air into the lungs of the character of Niragi by not only becoming the villain but also, by picking up the mannerisms and master gestures associated with the character that make him such a memorable part of the story. I haven't seen Dori's full Filmography but the character I have seen outside of AIB are a complete left turn from this character which makes me think that the casting director at Netflix Japan needs a raise for having chosen someone who looks so sweet to be such a villain.

Nijiro Murakami as Chishiya Shuntaro

When it comes to characters that become scene-stealers, Chishiya Shuntaro is definitely one of them. This character is so powerful that I, even, named my cat after him. That is a fact of which I am not ashamed. From the second episode of the show, when we are first introduced to him, he becomes an integral part of the framework of the game he is involved in and it is obvious that we will see him again. That being said, there is no way to word Murakami's performance besides 'integral' as my friend put it, "I literally could not imagine anyone else playing this character." As Chishiya, Murakami takes on such a life and ease in the character that it's almost difficult to believe that the sly facial expressions paired with his nonchalant air are not in his nature and are, in fact, something that he donned for the role. I look forward to seeing not only more of Murakami as this character but exploring more of his filmography in general.

Aya Asahina as Hikari Kuina

Kuina as a character is someone that the protagonist does not meet until a few episodes into the show but when it comes to backstories and characters with rich personalities, she shines compared to a lot of other characters I have seen like her. I won't spoil her backstory for you since she's definitely someone who represents something that's a little bit rarer in stories from more reserved cultures but she definitely deserved a mention in this category due to her amazing acting skills and her flawless stunt scenes.

Ability to Keep Interest: 10/10 || Provocation: 8/10

While the rest of my stats got their own individual evaluation, these are going to be combined and the reason for this is because they have the same reasons for their scores. As I mentioned before, Alice In Borderland takes a new spin on the 'play games to live' genre that is so common amongst anime and manga and for that reason, it was able to keep my interest so much so I finished watching it over the course of two days. It was also a deeply thought-provoking situation because the nature of the games and the backgrounds of the characters forced me to think up my own games and my own ideas of where the characters whose backstories are not explained could've come from. That being said, a lot of the thoughts that the show provoked did end up becoming depressing, especially after reading the manga because I discovered that some games could not have had a better outcome due to their simple rules and that made me very sad because even if I am not attached to or fond of a character, I still do not enjoy their downfall.

Overall: 8.5 = DING! DING! DING! WE HAVE A KEEPER!

Overall, I enjoyed Alice In Borderland enough to have rewatched it one and a half times since I first watched it a few weeks ago. As someone who rarely goes back to shows that involve plot twists and suspense because I already know what's going to happen, that really says a lot for not just the storyline but also the acting and amazing intricacies that are in the show. I still feel like each time I watch it, I glean some new detail or fact that I hadn't thought of before and I come to understand the games a bit more with each passing scene or episode. I also feel that the more I rewatch the show, the more I sympathize with even the villains and come to value and understand their motivations and roles. 8.5 out of 10. I WOULD RECCOMMEND.

Thanks for reading!!

#alice in borderland #aib review #alice in borderland review #tv show review #netflix review #alice in borderland netflix #nijiro murakami #dori sakurada #niragi suguru #chishiya #chisiya shuntaro #kuina hikari #aya asahina #kento yamazaki #kakegurui

22 notes · View notes

konglindorm · 3 years

Text

The Frog Princess

So today we're going to talk about "The Frog Princess." This is a completely different story from "The Frog Prince"; literally all they have in common is an enchanted frog. The Frog Princess is found in a lot of different cultures, but I first encountered it as a Russian fairy tale, so that's the version we're going with today. Also, like. I just finished my post about "King Thrushbeard", and I feel like I've learned my lesson about the disappointments of actually rereading fairy tales instead of just going off my memory. Today we are going to tell fairy tales the way they were meant to be told, the way they were told in the days of oral tradition: however the teller happens to remember them. (So don't anybody be coming in here and telling me I'm wrong, don't tell me I botched the details, don't tell me I just left out the entire second half; dude, I know. That's the point.)

We open with a scene sort of like the end of Robin Hood, where he shoots an arrow from his deathbed and tells the Merry Men to bury him wherever it lands? The king has his three sons shoot arrows, and they're supposed to find their brides wherever the arrow lands.

Now, how could that possibly go wrong?

Miraculously, no one is killed in this fun little bride search, and two of the three arrows actually happen to land somewhere in the general vicinity of an unmarried young woman.

Unfortunately for our third prince, the only living thing anywhere near where his arrow lands is a frog. So he goes home and explains the situation to his dad, probably hoping for a reasonable response, like, "Oh, that sucks, try again," or maybe even, "You know what? Bridal acquisition via a literal shot in the dark was a stupid and dangerous idea. Forget it. Go meet a nice girl the normal way."

But our king is not a reasonable man, so what he tells the prince is "Well, I guess you're marrying a frog."

And then he says that whichever son has the most impressive wife gets to be the next king. Like, dude. Just come right out and say you hate prince number three.

First task to impress the king: make him a shirt.

The first two girls work hard to sew nice shirts. And prince number three, he goes home and tells the frog what's up, but he's not really expecting anything, because she's, you know, a frog. In the morning he has to go and not present his dad with a shirt, and before he leaves the frog gives him an acorn, and she's all like, "Look, I made you a shirt," and he just sort of says "Thanks, honey," and pats her slimy little head, because, I mean, what are you gonna do? She's a frog. They don't even wear shirts. Why should she know the difference between a shirt and an acorn?

"You have to open it," she says as he leaves.

"Sure, honey," he says, humoring her.

So he gets home. His dad looks over the other two shirts, makes his judgement, and then it's our dude's turn. He takes the little acorn cap off, and--there's fabric in there? Okay, weird. He pulls it out and it's a beautiful shirt made of the finest linen. Round one goes to our now very baffled third prince. Round two: bake some bread.

Now our prince isn't super quick on the uptake here. I'd think that the combination of talking frog and beautiful human-sized shirt folded into an acorn without even wrinkling would naturally lead to the conclusion that something magical is going on. But instead, he decides that the shirt must have been a fluke and, woe is him, there's no way his frog wife is ever gonna produce a loaf of bread. Frogs don't even eat bread. And how will she operate an oven?

The prince's new sisters-in-law are a little smarter, and have worked out the magic angle by now, so they go to spy on the frog. They watch her just sort of pour the dough into the oven through a hole on top, and go home to do the same thing. But, like, they don't have magic. So that backfires.

Frog presents prince with a second acorn. He pats her slimy little head and says "Thanks, honey," because he's sure she did her best. You can't fit a lot of bread in an acorn; bread isn't nearly as foldable as linen. But it's the thought that counts. And if he had to marry a frog, well, out of all the frogs in the world, he figures he's pretty lucky to have wound up with this one.

The first two princes show the king their very, very sad loaves of bread, and our prince is thinking, okay, maybe I have a shot. My loaf of bread might be incredibly tiny, but the shirt was good, and this other bread is pretty crappy. So he takes the cap off the acorn, and a beautiful, full-sized loaf of bread. They cut it up, and it tastes great. Round two goes to our prince. Third round: impress the king at a banquet.

Now our prince is thinking there's really no way his wife is going to perform well at a fancy party, because, again, she is literally a frog. She tells him to go ahead to the banquet, and she'll catch up later. He goes, thinking he's probably going to be stood up, because how is a frog going to get herself across town?

His brothers tease him about his frog wife and how she stood him up, and he just sits there and takes it because he knows his frog wife does her best, and at least she produced an edible loaf of bread. There's a commotion outside; a frog is riding up the driveway in a cardboard box pulled by mice. Which is, okay, all kinds of embarrassing. But the prince loves his frog wife, he's sure she's doing her best. And as she reaches the palace, she transforms into a beautiful woman. At which point the king declares our boy the winner of this bizarre little contest and the heir to the throne, and he and his frog wife, now de-frogged, live happily ever after.

Okay, fine, I can't just not read the original story. So just to let you know where I got it wrong: can't find evidence of that acorn detail, don't know where I got it. Possibly from a German variant called "Puddocky," in which the second task is to find a dog that can fit inside a walnut shell. And the entire last scene with the frog arriving is from the German version, not the Russian one, as well. Having jest reread them both, I can see the story that exists in my memory is a very jumbled combination of the two.

Also, like, the frog doesn't do anything for herself in the Russian version? She has attendants the prince can't see who sew the shirt and bake the bread and everything, which is totally lame, and also cheating; the king said he'd leave the kingdom to the prince whose wife did the best job, not the one whose wife had the best servants. And there is a second half, in the Russian version, though the German version ends with the banquet. After that scene, in the Russian version, when the prince realizes his wife doesn't have to be a frog, he burns the skin, which in his defense, seems like the thing to do, based on folkloric precedence. But it doesn't pan out this time. Ends up being a more "East of the Sun West of the Moon" style screw-up, and he has to go on a quest to get her back. Which is actually kind of fun; you don't see a lot of gender reversal on the "I screwed up my SO's transformation spell and now I gotta fix it" quest. Anyway, he does that thing where he spares the lives of a bunch of animals and in return they help him out later. (I think the only time I've talked about that before is in "The Sea Hare".) Baba Yaga tells him our frog girl is now with Kaschey the Deathless, and how to kill him; it's one of those "you have to stab him in his heart, but instead of being in his body it's in an egg in a chest in a tower underwater or whatever" situations, like in "The Troll With No Heart In His Body". The animals help out with that, and then we live happily ever after, for real this time.

#folklore #fairy tales #grimms #russian folklore #the frog princess #grimm brothers #puddocky

10 notes · View notes

teacup-baphomet · 3 years

Text

G/t plot bunny 1

ugh generic title is generic but whatever.

so basically there are these two people - humans - and they are like ghost/cryptid hunters.

in my head. There is one guy and one girl. The guy is very excitable and happy-go-lucky (an optimistic ray of sunshine type with his head in the clouds).

The girl is more down-to-earth. A tad on the pessimistic side maybe. a little more rough around the edges. will throw hands at the drop of a dime to protect the people she cares about no matter how daunting the challenge is (like she will take on an entire gang herself is she needs to orr - well, you’ll see later in this plot bunny).

They are currently somewhere - idk where- and there is like big arse castle thing. Entirely made of stone. Ornate. and mostly like “f***off” big. like the theories/lore behind it is some ancient, archaic civilization made this castle for their god(s) as some symbolic gesture.

But the duo is here because it’s supposed haunted af.

And they want to either prove that or disprove that.

all for the sake of likes on the internet. such a noble causes lol. nah. they get paid too so mostly there’s that.

anyways. as it turns out it is NOT haunted.

but rather someone - something? - BIG is sorta imprisoned in the structure. Not visible at first. Hidden away ... somewhere, perhaps an alternate dimension or something. Until freed.

And the duo accidentally frees him.

Anyways, the big guy is basically the result of a king from the long dead civilization getting super greedy and basically doing some weird ritual to get limitless power. It goes terribly wrong - for the king- and he ends up getting possessed, well more like completely hijacked and the king is kinda dead now - by some sorta being. a shapeshifting something that tends to be on the lorg side.

The being didn’t really have a gender until he took over the king’s earthly form and then he decided “huh, guess i’m a dude” so he tends to shapeshift into a male form. typically big. typically kinda monstrous. haven’t thought of how monstrous. or if the shapeshifter being is demonic or not. or what does “demonic” even mean if so.

kinda leaning towards a monstrous in a dragon-boy kinda way. wings. horns. rows of sharp teef. claws. scaly forearms and lower legs as well as various other patches of scales. glowing eyes. firebreath.

with some hints of elderitch monstrosity. so maybe like a third eye on their forehead and perhaps a wee eye on each of the little clawed hand things on his wings. idk. plus the ability to make prehensile shadow tendril/tentacle things shoot out from his body. or something like that.

but i dunno. if i write this or not is hecking big IF anyways. like most of my ideas -writing and especially drawing. my muse is so dang fickle. i could come up with ocs and plots and dumb banter/dialogue and i can get to vague sketch stage with drawings but after that it’s like uhhhh... i lose steam i guess..

but yeah... how monster-y big dude is, is well up for debate i guess

but yeah. so he appears. and the shapeshifter monsterboy king dude is thinking it’s gonna go like ‘k. i’m free now. gonna just get rid of the people who freed me with a condescending thanks and then take over the world mwahahaha”

but it does not go like that. at all.

because oh no. the lil guy who freed him is adorable. and he’s so..so happy? but... why? and his first words to him are “wow. you’re amazing! so friggin cool! I wish i looked as bad*ss” or something like that

and the big guy is like all flustered because he’s used to people running and screaming at him and his monsterous appearance. that is partially why he likes to be monstrous looking to be frank.

he never considered how nice it is to be genuinely complimented. or you know to have friends. or even something more~

so he’s at a lost. which is something that’s never happened to him before. making him even MORE at a loss.

and he’s rather amused, impressed with the bravery the wee gal as well. as she looks ready to fight him herself if he even thinks of hurtin’ the lil ray of sunshine guy. it’s kinda.... endearing???

so oops. no world domination. ah, well...

instead he has a best friend and maybe something more with that lovely ray of sunshine man~

and maybe... just maybe... being good and kind... isn’t all that bad?

even if he is a monstrous eldritch giant maybe demon thing.

who says he has to stick to stereotypes. he’s BIG. he can do what he wants. right?

and i dunno after that..

I’m thinking. that this is when they find out he’s sorta attached to the castle for some reason. and thus stuck in his BIG monsterboy mode (as well as stuck to a certain area). and thus beyond being stuck to the vicinity in the castle and near the castle atm he can’t temporarily shapeshift to human in order to more easily travel with them as they do their ghost/cryptid hunting anyways.

so the next phase of the maybe story is the human duo and their monster trying to figure out how to f r e e h i m. like even more so than they already did heh.

and once they do that - uh shenanigans happen i guess. cuz you can’t have a g/t story without big(s) and small(s) engaging in shenanigans. that’s like g/t law or something.

and that’s it. that’s the maybe story i will likely never write.

anywho. if anybody wants to use this as a plot go ahead. i don’t care/mind. it’s not all that original anyways lol. it’s just a bunch of tropes thrown together to make soup (read: a plot) basically. i think. i dunno.

i mean let’s be real. i can’t even say:

people using the same plot in a g/t story? more likely than you think.

because we all effing know the same plots are used in g/t stories over and over again. ain’t no one able to pretend that isn’t common lol.

but that’s okay. because everyone has their own style of writing. and a lot of us are desperate for more g/t content anyway so we ain’t gonna complain regardless.

not sure if these last few sentences could be considered a call out or sh**post or something but i don’t really care. it is what it is.

16 notes · View notes

be-ready-when-i-say-go · 4 years

Text

Middle of the Trees

You can’t sleep. Calum learns about a secret talent.

Reader Insert. No specific race or gender.

This is was SUPPOSED to be a quick 500 word blurbs. She’s 2.4k words but we already knew I’m captain of long windedness. Please enjoy the pre-game to tomorrow’s festivies. (It’s not related at all. Just cranking out some last minute drafts before my final 5sos fic goes up.)

Enjoy my masterlist.

Support me on ko-fi

________________________________

You shouldn’t have been awake. Not this late at night. You hadn’t meant to be awake at this hour, if you’re honest. It was probably the nap from earlier, when you were out with Calum, bathing in the warm sun. Being out in the sun created a fatigue that truly was unmatched. So after your return in doors and showering, you settled onto the couch. Sleep found you without a fight. Now, now, you are paying the price it seems.

The house is settling into the quiet of the night. Duke is curled up on your side of the bed. Calum half covered by the sheets and bathed in the faintest light from the moon seeping in through the blinds. It isn’t a lot of light. Though, it helps that even in the dark you can make out the outline of Calum’s figure in the bed. There are two options, after staring at the TV in the living room, proved no use for your much too alert mind: you can curl up next to Calum and hope that the warmth of his body is enough to trick your brain or you could mess about with something in the house until the buzzing of your brained quieted.

On a plus, Calum slept like the dead, so even if you made a little bit of noise with your choice of activity, it probably wouldn’t wake him. Padding into his office/music room, you find the keyboard he set up in the corner. Most of the room is lined with plaques and various guitars: bass, electric, acoustic. Plopping yourself into the computer chair at his desk, you roll it over to the keyboard. It turns on, the small red light letting you know so. You readjust the settings, after playing just a quick note and horns screech out at you.

“Didn’t know that was up his sleeve,” you tease, clicking it over to the piano setting. When you play the note again, it sounds like twinkling stars and you just sit for a moment. The window’s to your left, the shades are drawn but not shut fully. Almost as if Calum had closed them part way through the day, at some point because it was too much light.

From here, your view is mostly backyard and privacy shrubbery but you can imagine that on just the other side is the road. And who knows if cars are passing by at this time of night, but they could be. And inside those cars are kids laughing as they are taken back from some party. Or maybe it’s just someone trying to clear their head. The weight of everything has finally pushed their spine too far and if they don’t do something, don’t do anything, they’re sure to snap.

Maybe cars are just out because folks are heading home from the late shift, heading out to the late shift and all around are just folks living lives. And you are here. Sitting at a keyboard, hoping that your fingers find something to say. But that is a life living too, you suppose. You are a life living too. By the time you turn your attention back to the keys, your fingers are moving and the haunting sounds swell for a moment, trail off and up near the higher end, you pick it back up.

There’s nothing wrong with where you are, of course. It’s comfortable. It’s familiar and it’s not that you’re bored with Calum, or the relationship. But part of you wants to hear cars going by. You want to be in those cars, sometimes. You don’t think your youth was snatched from you but you do think that maybe you had always been a little too cautious, had always played things a little too safe.

There’s life happening in this house, you remind yourself, fingers running down the scale. It gets like this sometimes. Having you remind yourself that there’s nothing wrong with the way you’ve played your cards. They’ve worked out for you. And it’s only at night, when you’re alone with your thoughts that you start to second guess everything. You always joke that it’s a talent that takes years to perfect to overthink like you do. Really it’s not so bad, it’s not.

The keys sing out for a moment longer, waiting for more of your fingers to work magic over them. But all you can do is just sit and stare and imagine the neon lights bathing a street in their glow and how heels are clicking against asphalt and how someone’s bent over their plate of greasy food. Or maybe someone’s leaning into a wall, in a too brightly lit dinner, praying for the sun to finally lift the curtain of darkness.

“You never said you could play piano?” It’s Calum’s scratchy and hoarse voice from behind you.

You shrug before spinning around in the chair. “I only play by ear mostly. Not trained to play it really.”

He shuffles, scratching at his scalp for a second before that hand stretches out. “Well, you sound lovely. Bed?”

“Can’t sleep,” you answer, trailing your fingers over his skin. It sends a shiver down his spine at how cold your fingers are and how soft the touch is; he’ll never get used to it. It’s been a year as if and it always catches him off guard.

His fingers wrap over yours and tugs to bring you to your feet. “Teach me.” It’s a soft command and in the darkness as your eyes have adjusted you can see and hear how sleep is still holding onto him. He probably woke up to go to the bathroom or maybe the piano playing woke him.

“Did I wake you?”

Calum doesn’t answer. Instead he settles into the chair and pats his lap. “Teach me.”

You shrug. “I don’t--I don’t even remember what I played. It just,” you gesture for a moment, like vomit coming out of your mouth.

He shrugs. “Play me something else then.” The command comes with another pat to his thighs.

You don’t raise anymore arguments and settle into him. Calum turns the hair with his feet, arms wrapping around your waist. His breath tickles your back. Your fingers settle curled and ready for your thoughts to carry them. But for a moment in time, all you focus on is the way Calum’s breathing causes his chest to just brush up against your back. You let yourself breathe in time with him for a moment.

The first note hits the air and it lingers, nearly fading out before the next one accompanies it. It’s a dance, you see now. Two people who have fallen in sync with each other. The tempo you’ve created makes you think of a waltz, dazzling lights and the clinking of tea cups against their porcelain saucers. You think about when you were a kid and thought about how magical a moment it is to find the one, to lock eyes across the room with the person that will get to see your soul, naked and truly you.

Somewhere in the years that childlike wonder when it comes to love tarnished. Maybe it’s all the hearts that weren’t gentle with yours and maybe it’s all the hearts you weren’t gentle with. Maybe it’s the beds you almost got into. Maybe it’s the friends that you lost contact with just because that’s the way the world spins. People come in for a season and you want them to stay for harvest. How fucked up is it, to have a heart that yearns to be loved and to give love, but manages to get attached to the wrong people, to know that even things with pure intents can be mistakes.

Calum squeezes your waist. The particular harsh throaty croaks catch his ears and he’s not sure where this is going, what’s happening but he wants you to know that he’s here. He won’t let you fall. “It’s okay,” he murmurs against your skin, lips brushing and leaving behind in their wake a trail of tingles.

“Do you remember your dreams?” you asks, finally bringing your gaze back to the keys in front of you and not the beige wall.

“I don’t think I dream much anymore. Not any ones that are interesting really.”

“We all dream. You just don’t remember them that’s all.”

Calum chuckles, leaning a bit to the side to see your face. “There’s one dream. That keeps coming back.”

“What is it?”

“Do you remember your dreams?”

“I asked you first.”

With a kiss to your back, he exhales deeply. “I’m in some sort of field. Tall grass. Some flowers. But there’s this dirt path in front of me. It splits into two and one’s into some deep forest. The other seems to go on for miles with more field, most flat land. Can’t see the end for either one of them. And I’m just, like, standing there. Really. That’s it. Just standing.”

“Never pick a path?” you ask letting the run play once, then twice, then a third time in half speed.

“Well, if I pick the forest. I meet an angel halfway through. Can’t really make out any details. Just a general human like figure in bright light. I try to talk to them. But they’re silent, singing up into the skies for what seems like forever. I can stand there as long as I want and they never drop the note.” As the sentence leaves his mouth, he notices that you replay the same note once, twice, a third time and even a fourth.

“What’s in the forest?”

“Besides some trees and the angel?” You nod. Another exhale from him tickles your skin. “Not much. Not much animal life. No wind. Just us two. I can walk down some more. It’s more trees that outline the path and a river. Sometimes I skip the angel and just go straight to staring up through the clear water of this river, up to the bright sun and I just float. Let the current take me. I can float right pass my mum. She never hears me under the water. My dad’s a little further down. He doesn’t hear me. Mali’s there too. The guys. Friends from back in Australia. None of them can hear me and then that angel comes back, like right at the end after everyone else has seemingly just let me go by. They’re right there. I almost don’t even try with them, you know. Just figure that if the end has to take me it will. But they see me. They’re watching and it’s like finally my arms can break through the surface of the water. And they just latch on.”

“Do you think you needed to be saved? Or just wanted it? Like do you know that there’s danger on the other side?”

Calum hadn’t thought about that. By the time he’s free from the water he’s awake, or his alarm is going off. “I don’t know if there’s danger.”

“What’s down the other path?” Your fingers are still carrying over the keys, you’re thinking that flat plains need half notes. What’s the worst that could happen? You know you won’t be staying there long, not if there’s more to Calum’s dream.

“I’ve never gone down that path. I’ve wondered about it. But any time that dream happens I always choose the forest.”

“Is there anything you want to be down there? Do you wish it a path to something?”

“I wouldn’t even begin to have an idea.”

That’s content if you’ve ever heard it. If you ever had to play a song for it too. “I think you want to be saved. You don’t need it. Just want to know that people are there for you.”

“Maybe,” he hums in agreement. The music hasn’t stopped but it has slowed. The notes have more space, the sit longer, ring longer in his ears. “Do you remember your dreams?”

“Nah, I think they hate me.”

“They don’t hate you. You’re, like, the least hateable person in the world.”

You scoff, gaze falling back outside the window. Maybe all the cars have parked now. Maybe the kids finally got home. That late shift ended for that one person and just started for the other. There are no more heels to click. No more fries to scarf down. No more grease to pop at the skin.

“Anxious again?” The question is soft. You almost don’t hear it from Calum’s lip, but you do feel it as he speaks.

“Little bit, I guess.”

“Wanna go for a ride tomorrow?Maybe pack up and just see what’s out there for a day?”

“We can, yeah. Maybe it’ll help.” Maybe it’ll make you feel human again, connected to the masses but still living your own life. You play it out, thinking of what an angel means and what it must feel like to finally break through that water. How relief must flood his body and his veins.

Release. To let go. Release. What a relief. And soon the keys have no more life in them, no more croaking or groaning or taps from your fingers and you just let things sink, fall how they must out and maybe it’s okay to let go.

“Yeah we can go for a ride,” you say. Only to be meet by silence. Calum’s breath is deep. You can feel it in your back. His hold around you has slackened just a little and you know he’s falling, giving into sleep--if not already there.

You turn off the keyboard and tap his forearm. It wakes him. “Sleepy?” he asks. You’re sure his eyes are closed.

Sleep hasn’t gripped you yet. But you and Calum should probably get back to bed, especially him. “On it’s way,” you return, knowing sleep will find you, just not as immediately as it found Calum.

He hums, pushing back and after you stand, he shuffles back to the bedroom. The sheets smell like him and a little bit like Duke, but they’re a packaged deal. But you wouldn’t have it any other way. You lay on your back, fingers trailing over the skin of Calum’s forearm slung over your stomach.

“I do remember my dreams,” you whisper. Calum hums, fingers flexes a bit and squish the flesh of you side. He doesn’t say anything though. So you continue on. “I’m standing in a field. Tall grass, some flowers. There’s a dirt road. It diverges and I don’t head further down into the fields. I go up into the trees. And I bathe myself in sunlight as a traveller comes by. They never seem lost. They just continue straight on, past me, down to the river. Sometimes I find them floating around. Sometimes I save them. But every time, we meet, in the middle of the trees.”

125 notes · View notes

knightofameris · 4 years

Text

among the stars — sugawara koushi

✎ gender. neutral ✎ contains. pestablished relationship, uneahlthy familial relationships (mention), anxiety of a college kid, self indulgent, not edited ✎ wc. 1.7k

✎ summary. with so much anxiety and uncertainties on earth, what to do, how to do it, you always looked up to the stars for answers.

✎ ameris’ notes. just something self indulgent. not my best work but, it’s kay! also tried to keep reader’s interests as vague as possible, but I can only do so much lol.

The Miyagi air was sharp against your skin. Piercing. Cold. It felt like if water fell from your eyes then it would immediately freeze over.

That was one motivator to hold your tears in.

You swallowed down the very lump in your throat because you knew that if it escaped, the dam would break loose. And again, you did not want your tears to freeze on your face. A sigh left your mouth, the cold air apparent in front of your face as you walked past Ukai’s shop. There was still a light inside but you could tell that it was closed. After all, the world—or rather, Japan—was preparing to sleep for the night.

“Hey.”

With perked ears, you turned your head towards the source. Suga stood there with a gentle smile on his face, his little bean sprout (as you liked calling it) on top of his head. He donned his typical winter coat and blue scarf, topped with gloves on his hands. Clearly, he was more prepared for the winter temperatures of Miyagi than you. Considering you were just wearing a thin sweatshirt and jeans. But you ran out of your house too fast to think ahead of time.

“Koushi,” a ghost of a smile played at your lips until you remembered why you called him out. The two of you were back in Miyagi for winter break and at first you were excited to be back home from university, feeling like your relationship with your parents was starting to look up. That is, until you realized nothing changed at all.

After all, even your older brother who had a somewhat better relationship with your parents ended up with an estranged one.

They didn’t even go to his wedding.

Suga took off his coat, draping it around your shoulders. You tried to protest, claiming that he’ll end up with a cold but with a chaste kiss to your forehead, you accepted it reluctantly. The final icing on the cake was when he promptly wrapped his scarf around your neck. His gloved fingers brushed against your neck as he tucked it into the coat. And despite the clothed barrier, you were still able to feel the warmth and love that radiated from him.

With that big smile of his, he beamed at you, “There, all nice and warm.”

You rolled your eyes as you laced your hands with his before tucking it into your—or his—coat pocket. And the two of you set off, walking to wherever your feet took you.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked, glancing at you. You pursed your lips, your hand squeezed his. Ever so slightly, you walked closer to him, wanting the comfort of his presence.

You shake your head, “No, not yet.”

“Whenever you’re ready.” His thumb brushes against the back of your hand as the two of you approach an empty park with a large open field of grass. The very place the two of you met all those years ago. The very place the two of you would spend countless nights after his many volleyball practices. The very place the two of you confessed your feelings to one another.

You were glad to know that you knew him for over half your life and that he would continue to be a part of your life (at least you hoped so).

Despite the freezing weather, Suga sat on the ground, in the middle of the grass field and pulled you down with him to sit between his legs. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pressing you against his chest.

“I’ve missed you,” Suga murmured into your neck, letting his lips kiss you lightly. You let out a small giggle, telling him that it tickles. He didn’t care and started to press more kisses on your neck. Your laughter was music to his ears. As overused as that statement was. But he was just so happy to hear it in person instead of over the phone. It had been a long time waiting. For the both of you.

“Koussshhiii,” you whined, pushing his face away from you. He pouts but relents nonetheless. Your laughter dying down as you settle down and rest your head against his shoulder, looking up to the night sky.

“Hey, Koushi?” You ask, your eyes tracing the stars, trying to see if you’d be able to recognize any constellations despite the light pollution. The one that you’re always able to find during this time of year was always Orion’s belt. Before you knew it, the three stars entered your sight.

Suga hummed in response, prompting you to continue with your thought. You turned your head towards him, your eyes landing on his beauty mark that you always love leaving kisses on. Especially with how flustered he’d get after.

“Where do you think shooting stars land?”

There was a moment of silence. Suga looked up at the sky, used to your odd questions. A small smile made its way onto his face. Immediately, you knew what he was up to.

“Well, I’d say in your eyes, because you’re made of stardust.” He grinned as you let out a groan, you shook your head.

“You’re so cheesy, Kou-chan.”

“You love me.” He nuzzles his nose to your cheek.

“Yeah, yeah.”

Silence veiled over the two of you. A comfortable silence. Despite sitting on the cold ground, the two of you felt more warm than ever. Even if Suga gave his coat to you. But he was prepared, making sure to wear a few extra layers after past experience to how many times you’d sneak out of the house or just run away for space away from your parents.

His heart would break every time you’d run into his arms with tears. After all, all children want is for their parents to be proud of them, to support them, to love them in a way that’s healthy.

“My parents really want me to become a doctor,” you break the silence. His grip around you tightens.

“Do you want to?”

“I...” you trail off for a second, “I don’t know. I’m doing fine in all my classes, more than fine. I’ve got plenty of shadowing opportunities. I’m actually top of my class. But...”

“You want to do something else, right?” Suga finished for you, knowing all about your interests and what you’d rather do. The way your eyes would light up whenever you wanted to show him something new. You always loved how he’d support you through and through.

“Yeah, it’s just that, I don’t think I’m any good at it, even if I wanted to pursue it as a job. All the classes I have to take to become a doctor, that comes naturally. But not anything I’d want to do. I don’t know what I want out of life anymore.” You let out a sigh, trying to dig further into the comfort of Suga’s arms. His hands begin to play with your fingers. His gloves are long gone so you’re able to feel the pads of his finger tips, the callouses from his many years of playing volleyball. And yet, they were still soft.

Suga pressed his lips against your temple and you leaned into it.

“You remember our third year, when Kageyama became starting setter?” You nod your head. “Do you remember what you said to me when I felt so useless? When I couldn’t even play the sport that I love so much?” You close your eyes, remember that conversation distinctly. It did take place here, like every other memory.

“That you were still important and that you still had a lot to get out of the club.”

“Well, that’s the gist of it. Even then, the same could be applied to you. And you saw Hinata, he was terrible-” you laughed, remembering his many mistakes “-but he’s gotten so much better. He is in his last year now.”

Your laughter died down. “Fair but, Hinata’s sorta simple minded. No offense to him, he only has volleyball in his head. Besides, my parents hate all the things I’d be interested in.”

“That’s the thing about life and living, huh.” You turn your head to look at Suga, his eyes resting somewhere beyond the horizon as he continues to talk. “How should we live, how do we make the most of it. I know I can’t answer that for you, your parents can’t either. Only you can.”

That’s the weird thing about college and moving on from your small sheltered life. You found that even if you had some sort of plan after high school, for the most part once you hit nineteen, twenty, everything comes crashing down. Some of your friends who wanted to pursue STEM degrees found more meaning in the performing arts and some of those struggled with the means of getting there. Some people didn’t even know what they were doing, just trying to coast by. You question everything and you feel like you have to have everything figured out before you leave university. Or so you found within yourself and others near your age.

But it was in moments like these that you found your anxieties about the future calmed down, even if it was for a little while.

You hum, turning your gaze back at the stars. “Well, however I live in the future, there’s one thing I know about it.”

“Hmm? What’s that?” Suga asks, glancing at you, his fingers still fiddling with yours.

“I know I want you in it for the rest of my life, living by my side.”

Suga’s eyes widened. Sure, the two of you grew up together, found love in each other. And sure, he’s thought about maybe starting a family with you, break that generational scarring. Or at the very least, marrying you and moving in together. Waking up beside you, going to sleep with you in his arms or him in your arms. You’ve had the same thoughts as well, but not once have either of you even hinted at it. So knowing that you wanted what he did, well, it eased his anxieties about the future as well.

His fingers began to play with your left ring finger, rubbing over where the ring would go.

“I’d like that, a lot,” he murmurs with a hint of a smile dancing on his lips.

No matter what the future holds, you knew you wouldn’t have to go it alone.

66 notes · View notes

delldarling · 4 years

Text

lies & gardeners | merrick

chasing truth | chapter one male faerie x gender/body neutral reader 7525 words sfw | navigating human emotions = tricky, dangit chapter index? or the prologue?

⊱ ────── .⋅ 🜁 ⋅. ────── ⊰

By virtue of being within the human realm, Merrick knew that none of this would be simple. By Fae standards, and by human too, Garrick’s description is a fairly common one. He’ll find neither hide nor hair of the gardener if he goes around, asking after a fellow with brown hair and tan skin. Even with all the changes humans have made to their society with technology.

Frustration has been steadily welling since the previous day, and his first foray into a human shopping mall.

“It’s why you were chosen,” he mutters to himself, perched in the rafters of a park gazebo as he re-packs his bag. The wallet he’d pinched, weathered brown and full of bills, is shoved in roughly. The soft shirt Kiera had chosen to give him is tucked away more carefully, having been replaced by a human-made shirt in green. The shade is particularly nice, at least, but the material itches slightly, rough against the wings trapped under his skin. He’s highly tempted to find another market and purchase something sleeveless, but… The shopkeeper’s reaction was a deciding factor in covering up.

Plenty of humans might have pictures dotting their skin - he’d seen more than his share during his time in the mall - but had sported wings like Merrick. The shopkeeper had touched him, and asked after his artist and the conversation had lasted far longer than he would have liked. They’d finally come away under the impression that he was the original designer, but a tattoo artist had done the work, which was perfectly fine with him. All Merrick wanted to do was stop talking.

Merrick sighs, confused and tired, and leans back against the curving roof, ignoring the spiders hiding poorly above his head. His cap, at least, is in fashion. The color and the quality haven’t set him apart any, though at some point he supposes he will have to get another. If he’s here that long. He scowls and closes his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. A nap is in order.

If only the children running around the park would stop shrieking. Merrick rolls a shoulder, breathing out slowly, and then a shuffling noise echoes from underneath him. Little feet scuffing the stone. He grinds his teeth and ignores the noise, hoping the child will vacate the area without any prompting.

“If you fall asleep there, you might fall. For real,” the child says authoritatively, having had enough of waiting. Merrick is still and silent, hoping that the child will take the hint and leave, but the tap, tap of little feet turning in a circle below continues.

“I won’t fall,” Merrick mutters, knowing, even as he does, that he should have kept his mouth shut. Engaging with the child will only encourage them.

“I fell off of my bed,” the child proclaims, as if they’ve reached the pinnacle of worldly experience. “Haven’t you ever done that?”

“Why do humans do this?” Merrick asks instead, sitting up straight and nearly cracking his skull against a wooden beam. He stops himself just short of it and turns his gaze upon the child - a girl, he thinks - who can’t be more than 7 or 8 summers. She looks thoroughly unimpressed with his scowl, or the way he’s precariously leaning over the rafter. “Every-” The tang of a lie stops him from saying every human, and he has to amend the statement quickly, before the child can interrupt. “Many of the humans I’ve met over the past day cannot seem to stop themselves from questioning.” Merrick throws the strap of his bag over his shoulder, adjusting until he can lean an elbow on either knee as he speaks, feet dangling over empty space. “Who is your tattoo artist? How did you get up here? Are you looking for a good time?”

The child blinks up at him, still unmoved by his plight, her small mouth curled into a frown. “I think you’ve been talking to weird people,” she finally says, turning on her heels when someone shouts. She leaves, taking her haughty attitude with her, but the words stick with him.

His own almost-lie sticks with him. The elderly man, the shopkeeper, some of those people hawking their wares outside unmoving carts- all of them had peppered him with questions he couldn’t answer. They’d wanted to draw him back into conversation, had wanted to touch if given even the slightest opportunity. And then there was you.

You hadn’t asked invasive questions that he’d little hope of answering correctly. He doesn’t know that he recalls your exact wording, but you’d been impressed by his speed, and your eyes-

Merrick snorts. He’s work to do, or at least a nap to take, and here he is, wondering about a human who had just a bit more manners than any of the others he’s met. “Ridiculous,” he says aloud, and rearranges himself against the gazebo wall once more. It’ll be dark again in a few hours, and he can start searching for the glamour Garrick has likely smothered himself with. Until then, he’s going to catch a few measly hours of sleep.

He should be done with this whole mess in a few weeks time, and then he’ll be back in the halls of the King, lauded as a hero. Perhaps Roran will have started to move on, and Kiera will cease giving him those judging looks. He’ll have his choice of work, and he can hardly wait to see where those jobs will take him. Yes. As soon as he’s back...

But even after that night, even after the next and the one after, Merrick is no closer to finding the gardener. The city is sprawling and there are too many humans for him to fly through the skies - and on the third night, one of their city guards - a policeman - comes and tells him that the homeless aren’t allowed to sleep in the park. He could have glamoured himself, could have hidden.. Though that likely would have tipped off Garrick, if he was anywhere close. He leaves after the fellow suggests a cheap motel, shelling out two bills, and decides that he might as well listen. There’s little reason not to seek out a bed, even a human made one, if he’s going to be here much longer.

The motel isn’t much better than the gazebo, Merrick finds, but it is one of the central points in the city. He’s able to pick up a more extensive, modernized map in a corner market, which makes some of his work easier, but then- Then the days slowly fade into weeks and he switches between motels as he picks up the barest hints of glamour. Every time he lays his head on the less than comfortable pillows, he’s sure that tomorrow will be the day he ends this. That he’ll track down Garrick, knock him out and drag him back to Court. But he can’t ignore the thoughts clamoring for attention in the back of his mind for much longer. He.. Can’t help but wonder if the gardener is even in the city any longer. He worries that he might be inadvertently tracking the wrong faerie, never mind that he hasn’t seen any others but common pixies. He falls asleep, telling himself that he can worry about it the next day.

Merrick wakes as evening falls.

His room is empty, as are those near-by. Or near enough. He can hear a few humans having a hushed argument through one of the walls, a bottle sloshing with liquid and clinking against a table as they pass it back and forth. Automobiles on the street, going much too fast. He doesn’t know that he’ll ever get used to the noise or the movement of them all. He used to assume that humans were called Quick Ones because of their limited lifespans, but it isn’t just that.

Humans are restless. Even in sleep, they move about or speak, and they never seem to keep steady hours either. Merrick doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to catch more than an hour or two of rest with the constant noise of them all.

Still, it’s been a month, and he can sleep through it now, at least for a while. Not always well - but after tonight, he’s fairly sure he’s going to sleep like the dead.

Merrick fumbles for the small pay-as-you-go phone he’d picked up a week back. It’s full of iron and man-made metals - but it isn’t near as heavy as the high-end devices humans are so fond of. It still makes his limbs ache to carry it close to his skin, but he supposes he can’t write off human inventions entirely.

It’s a useful piece of equipment, though Merrick only needs it to check the time, having thrown the motel clock in a drawer after the first night here.

“Seven,” he mutters, pushing himself off of the mattress. Likely he could have found a better place than this. He’s seen the high end hotels with glittering balustrades and carefully cultivated flora, but he’d taken the time and the trouble to track Garrick down to somewhere close to this neighborhood. He hadn’t wanted to be further than a few streets away, just in case Garrick had attempted to make a run for it, or in case he’d been wrong and found a different Fae altogether.

He’s fairly sure he’s right though.

The level of glamour the near-by Fae is using is affecting the environment. The neighborhood isn’t a particularly kind one. It’s full of cheap housing and dirty establishments, but greenery has sprung up in recent months - evidence of one of the Queen of Land’s people.

And then, just yesterday, by some blessed miracle, Merrick had heard a small group of humans mention “- and I’m meeting up with Garrick- Gar,” they’d corrected, phone pressed close to their face, “and maybe some of his friends, tomorrow at 8 at the bar.”

There are two bars in this crumbling section of the city, just a few doors down from each other. If Merrick snags a high vantage point across the street, he’ll be able to watch them both.

He’d best get ready, if he wants more than a few moments to settle.

Other than his bag, still packed full of nearly all his things, there’s nothing Merrick wants to take. He uses the shower because the water is pleasant enough, and cleanliness is nothing to sneer at, but he doubts he’s going to do more than watch tonight. Though if he sees Garrick with his own eyes, if he’s managed to identify him correctly? It will take the edge of worry off of his shoulders. Merrick pulls on the shirt Kiera gave him, just to have a reprieve from mildly itchy human material, and covers it with a grey hooded sweatshirt he’d taken off of a clothes line. He still jams the red cap back over his ears though, unwilling to find a replacement for the item when anything else will likely be sub-par.

He locks up behind himself, praying he won’t have to return - though he knows it’s a far-flung hope, and trudges toward Vine Street, bag slung over his shoulder. Early evening has settled over the city, yellowing streetlights starting to flicker on. Some of the sourness of the streets is dampened by the lack of sunshine, but the exhaust of passing cars still makes his nose wrinkle.

It’s busy, when he gets there. There isn’t quite a line to either establishment, though people flock into the places in steady groups of twos and threes. He eyes the building across the street - some kind of factory, once upon a time, and decides it looks empty enough to risk it.

Merrick might not be able to wear his wings out for all the humans to gawk at, but he’s still a Fae with wings. He’s used to navigating heights, and half the building is lined with a rickety set of stairs anyway. Fire Escape is labeled clearly along one creaking stair, but Merrick hops right over it, taking the steps a few at a time. It doesn’t quite reach the roof, but when he finally comes to a stop at the top, breath carefully measured, he can see hand and footholds in the old brick.

He climbs, and heaves himself onto the roof with nary a scratch. He then finds himself a good vantage point and settles down to wait, crossing his arms and resting them on the building ledge.

The people heading into Corner Pocket look a bit more jovial than the crowd mulling around the doors of Harvey’s, so he thinks he’ll have a better chance watching that one. It’s boring work though, the waiting, and for the first time Merrick thinks he might actually miss Roran. At least a partner would fill the silence.

Truth be told, Merrick isn’t quite sure what to expect. He’s looking for fawn colored hair and skin weathered by sunshine - but there are a fair few of those about. He supposes, if he truly had to think about it, he would assume that Garrick looks a bit sickly. He’s been hiding from his Court for half a year at least, and between the month Merrick has spent searching, and the time the Land Guard spent hounding him, he should be weary.

However, when Merrick spots him, he can’t quite believe his eyes. Garrick might technically be in hiding, but he’s living. He’s tall, at least as tall as Merrick, though after a moment he grudgingly admits that the Fae might be taller. He has short brown hair and a much stronger physique than Merrick had been expecting- and he’s smiling. It’s almost enough to induce a bit of jealousy in him. Here he’d been expecting a knob kneed gardener with clammy hands, and yet Garrick might as well be in the Land Guard.

He seems fond of the humans, laughing with them, leaning into their casual touches and ruffling ones hair. With a start, Merrick realizes he recognizes one of them, and he leans over the edge of the building to try and get a better look.

It’s… It’s you. The one whose phone he’d nearly broke, the one who’d smiled at him, pleasant and quiet, and- Merrick wrinkles his nose and straightens his posture. He’s being utterly ridiculous, letting nerves get to him. It’s been plenty long enough, and he’s going to have to go down there anyway. You shouldn’t remember him, not when he’d made a hasty get-away and spoken so little.

To be safe though, he decides to stay out of your line of sight as well.

He climbs back down the building side and moves slowly down the stairs, watching closely for any eyes that might catch his movement. The humans are oblivious though, and he makes it down without upset, sliding into the tail edge of a rather large group just outside the doors.

Merrick gets into the bar easy enough - he does have to use a bit of glamour to charm the bouncer into seeing proper ID, but it barely counts, and- Garrick doesn’t seem to be particularly sensitive to its use. He doesn’t up and run, or shout. He’s still sitting at a table when Merrick waltzes in, and he’s surrounded by the same group of chattering humans, all of them laughing over something.

Merrick hurries to the counter, sliding easily into the line of patrons crowding the area, and turns towards the bartender. He should order something, make his being there look normal. His shoulder jostles someone standing too close though, and when he makes room, trying to mutter something unobtrusive and calming, the human interrupts him with a delighted noise.

With his heart in his throat, and his every thought flying from his brain, Merrick turns to meet your gaze head on.

“It’s you!” You declare, eyes roving over his face. That same genial smile, the one that had stuck in the back of his unwilling head, curls your mouth. “Mr. Glad-I-hurt-My-Pride! Never thought I’d see you again.”

And I thought you wouldn’t recognize me, Merrick thinks, panic taking hold of his heart. He hopes that you can’t see the shock or any kind of disappointment in his features. Though.. Truth be told, he isn’t sure what exactly it is that he’s feeling. Nerves are making his stomach twist, and his palms heat, but-

“Pride?” He asks, hoping he sounds like he doesn’t know you. He takes a step back from you, and then his neck grows warm when you close the distance he attempts to make. He nearly stumbles into another patron behind him, half expecting you to reach out, to touch him - though he isn’t sure why that has his nerves singing with hope. It turns out that you’re only moving closer to the bar, but it feels intimate now, when you lean in towards him to converse, to be heard over the crowd of customers.

“I said something about my pride being hurt,” you tell him with a shrug, and then motion for him to speak when the bartender asks for an order. “Him first,” you insist. “I’m ordering a round for friends, and it’ll take me a minute.”

Merrick orders the first thing that looks appetizing, some kind of blackberry cider that the bartender claims is good. He licks nervously at his lips as a thought occurs to him. You know Garrick. Enough to share his table, to order drinks - he can use this. Use… you.

“-and then you said good in this really serious voice and stomped away,” you tell him, as soon as the bartender takes his currency and darts over to a register. You arch an eyebrow when he frowns, though you don’t sound accusatory.

“Good as in you weren’t physically injured,” he clarifies, happily accepting the pint the bartender returns with and turning to survey the room. Garrick is still sitting at his table, though now one of the humans is whispering something in his ear and he looks- He looks fond. That human too, is one he could use to get in close to Garrick. Surely using them would be better?

Friendship is one thing, but physical attraction can be a vastly powerful tool. Merrick glances back at you, mulling over the pros and cons.

“That’s a relief,” you murmur, flashing a smile his way before you order for your table, eyebrows drawn together in concentration. It’s almost irritating that he isn’t irritated. He still doesn’t find anything about you grating. He should - you’re a human, just making casual conversation - but you haven’t asked him prying questions or tried to interrupt him.

“Is it?” He asks, unthinking as he takes a sip of his drink. His eyes dart to your hands, fingertips tapping awkwardly against the bar. You look… Nervous.

“Is it a relief to me that you weren’t being rude?” You laugh, ceasing your fidgeting. “Yeah. I don’t think relief would fit very well if I found out you were trying to be an ass. Besides, you did something nice, saving my phone from the pavement - I wanted to think well of you.”

He shouldn’t care at all, but he can’t help the small smirk that pulls at the corner of his lips. The sound of your voice, the way your mouth is shaped when you laugh? He likes it. He opens his mouth- only to snap it shut when the bartender returns with a pitcher and a stack of glasses.

“Interested in helping me out one more time?” You ask, glancing at him from beneath lowered lashes, and there’s a tone to your words that he believes might be flirting. He could help you out, but even if Garrick hadn’t noticed his glamour use at the door, standing right in front of him might very well tip him off. Might, he thinks to himself, irritated with the vagueness of his thought. It will tip him off.

“I’ll follow,” he says before he can think more on it. His mouth is dry and his heartbeat is starting to thunder in his ears. Better to get this whole thing over with and get back to Faerie. Merrick steadfastly ignores the realization that it would mean the end of any flirtatious hints between you, and takes the stack of glasses you hand him. It’s a useless thought. He’s not here to charm humans, he’s here to do what his King bade him. He leans back to avoid the brush of your elbow, waiting for you to precede him, and then turns towards the table you’re sharing with Garrick.

Garrick isn’t there.

Adrenaline crashes into his bloodstream at lightning speed, and it takes everything within Merrick not to drop the glasses to the floor, let them break and scatter in a fountain of glass shards and start searching. He stays on your heels, searching each visible corner of the room, but he doesn’t see him anywhere. Had he truly been so distracted by a few moments of flirting?

You set the pitcher down with a hmm, glancing at the two - two - empty spots across the table.

“So Gar and-”

“Yep,” one of your companions, a red headed man, interrupts you, grinning slyly. “But I see you made a handsome friend over at the bar! Care to introduce us?”

“Next time, I’m getting the drinks,” one of them murmurs.

You grin, accepting the glasses that Merrick hands you, but before you can ask for his name, or say another word, he’s backing away.

“Pardon me,” he says, trying not to look you in the face. He fails, eyes raking quickly over your startled expression a single time, just- just so he’ll remember your face. Just so he’ll recognize you again, if he needs to use you. To get to Garrick. “Enjoy your evening,” he tacks on at the last second, feeling slightly ridiculous, but mostly angry. He’d taken one look at you, taken one sip of fizzing cider and lost focus, and now Garrick is gone. Merrick slides through the crowd, using glamour heavily to slip unnoticed between talking friends and dancing couples, and heads straight for the bathroom. He doubts the gardener took his companion there, not if he wants either of them to live, but he has to check.

Both of them, frustratingly, turn up empty of Fae. Merrick upends his glass of cider in one of the cracked sinks, glaring at his reflection. There’s a heavy flare of glamour, like pressure building and bursting at the front that suddenly catches his attention- but it’s fading already.

He follows it anyway, sifting through the people making their way toward the bathroom and then milling about the bar until he’s made note of every face throughout the building.

Merrick finds himself back out on the street, shoulders trembling with tension, wondering how he’d gotten it so wrong. Garrick must have noted his use of glamour the moment he’d done it, and simply kept his calm until he realized Merrick was distracted. He should have known better, should have kept his boring seat on the factory building and waited. He would have been able to follow Garrick back to his home, or at least make a note of where his companion lived.

He’s going to have to throw caution to the wind, then, and head into the skies. He’ll have to risk Garrick feeling the glamour, because the chance of a human snapping a picture of a Fae launching himself off of a roof is far too great. He heads back to the factory roof, breathless now when he reaches the top, and stares down angrily over the edge. Merrick has been yearning to stretch his wings, but the wait doesn’t quite feel worth it when he’s lost track of the damn gardener.

He strips off his shirt and his cap, uncaring of the cool breeze and shoves them into his bag. It almost aches, the feeling of his wings slipping free of his skin, but he doesn’t have time for more than a quick rub of the muscles he can reach, before he needs to be flying. He won’t be able to catch him - not without diving upon Garrick like some great bird of prey - but he hopes he’ll see him. At least then, this won’t have been one big waste of his time.

Merrick rolls his shoulders, steps up to the building edge, and jumps. His wings aren’t exactly made for slow, sweeping circles through the air. The four of them are strong, but thin, veined with a shade that Roran has always claimed reminds him of copper. They buzz, fluttering fast enough that they’re nothing more than a blur. He’s always done best with short, sharp distances, and it’s still been a short length of time. Surely he has more than a fair chance of finding some human-loving gardener?

He zips over the street, eyes keen on the people below, and starts his search.

Four hours later, he has to trudge back into his motel room, too tired to keep up a cloak of glamour, or to even lay his wings back into his skin. One of the inebriated humans he’d heard earlier is sitting on the steps, staring at him with bleary eyes and a red nose.

“Tho- thought absinthe brought on visions of fairies?” The man asks, glancing down at his paper wrapped bottle in surprise.

“Weariness, too,” Merrick mutters, blinking heavily as he nearly stumbles on the last step. He’s three doors down the walk - he can make it. He’s not sure, but he thinks the drunkard whispers some kind of expletive. It’s the last coherent thought Merrick has before his motel door is shutting behind him and he’s flopping straight onto the bed. Darkness rolls over him like the tide, and he willingly gives in.

He wakes to housekeeping tapping nervously at his door and just barely gets up in time to catch it. He waves away their apologies, pressing his hands firmly against the placard underneath the peep hole to close the door fully - and then drops to his knees, wings sagging against the ground. The carpet is rough, and even though he’s relished having them out, Merrick slaps a hand to each shoulder, hiding his wings in his skin once more.

Perhaps, if Merrick weren’t stubborn, he would send word back to the King of Air. He could have used a bit of help - but the thought of Roran showing up on his doorstep flat out halts the thought. He needs more information, because what the Queen of Land had given them was sorely lacking. The traitor’s chosen name? Had been correct. As had the vague description. Faun brown hair, eyes near the same shade, and skin, weathered tan by the sunshine. His hands and ears had held a green tint - glamoured from the human eye - so he was from the Land Court.

But he knew how to blend in with humans, had made friends of them. He was living, and living well among them, and he knew how to lose someone attempting to track him. He’d vanished at the first sign of trouble.

“Or he really was passing time with his companion and they distracted him from me,” Merrick grumbles, lips pulled into a frown as he stumbles over to the rickety table in the corner. The chair creaks as he flops into it, pulling close the map of the city and the small pad of paper provided by the motel.

Merrick supposes that Garrick could have been human born - maybe his human parent had been spirited to his Court and had passed on their knowledge as he grew? Maybe human parentage did have something to do with being able to lie. Still. He’s tempted to swear something crass to prove that Garrick isn’t simply a gardener. Other than that single flare of glamour, Garrick had left little to no trace of himself behind, and even someone with Merrick’s talents would be hard pressed to do that. Roran couldn’t have done it so smoothly.

The only thing Merrick had been able to find out with any certainty is that Garrick is fond of the group of humans he’d gone to Corner Pocket with. He’d checked back into the bar after he’d canvassed the area and found nothing. They’d been gone as well, safe from being followed or questioned. He’d asked after the group from one of the workers, but he’d been run nearly dry by then, dizzy on his feet. The worker had only given him a strange look and urged him to call his friends after he’d grabbed a few hours of sleep. Of course, asking the worker in the back alley while they took their smoke break… Had possibly been ill advised. He hadn’t wanted to risk glamour, and he couldn’t head inside the bar without a shirt on. They’d likely assumed he was as inebriated as the two men staying in the room next to his at the motel. It could have been worse.

Though he can’t say he’s not convinced that Garrick didn’t double back after he’d left and gotten his human companions to vacate the area.

Perhaps- no.

For the breadth of a second, he wonders if Garrick has roped the humans into this, but it’s highly unlikely. With such a large group of them, at least one would have spilled his secret. No. They’d been too at ease, and he doesn’t believe that you would have li- It simply doesn’t matter. None of the humans could have known enough about Garrick’s true nature to fool him.

A very small part, that he studiously ignores, is pleased by the thought. Being distracted by honest flattery is one thing, but being lied to is quite another.

He wonders how often Garrick has dealt with human lies, and whether it galls him or not, tasting the sourness upon the air.

Merrick scowls, fingers tracing idle paths on the now creased and worn map. He doesn’t even know if those born to the Land Court possess the same drawbacks when it comes to attempting to lie.

Besides, it’s entirely possible that Garrick will decide to run again. Even though he’s done his best to make a home for himself here, and seems to be fond of the local populace, he’s run twice already. Once from the Queen of Land - the place he was raised, and once when the land Guard found him. Both times he’d run far enough that it had cost quite a bit of time to track him down again. And yet... he might decide that a random citizen of the Air stumbling upon him is nothing to worry about.

He might not be able to find Garrick at the bar for some time, but he imagines one or two of the humans will return. They’d been charmed by his appearance, at least, so he doubts it will take over much to befriend one of them. And if, by chance, Garrick comes to assume that Merrick is a fellow runaway?

He might just be willing to speak to him.

Corner Pocket soon becomes Merrick’s most regular haunt, and his least favorite place in the human realm.

The drinks make it bearable, at least some of the time. The vast amount to choose from means he’s not bored, but enjoying a glass of anything by his lonesome is… Not very entertaining. And most of the attention he draws? Merrick does not want in the first place. He’s offended at least three different humans there in the week following his decision to befriend one of Garrick’s companions. One woman he refuses flat out, which leaves her petulant and loud. One of her friends apologizes on her behalf, rolling their eyes as they tow her out the door. One man seems to be desperately looking for a debate partner on human sports teams, and another says he simply doesn’t like the look of Merrick.

“There’s a couple colleges here,” one of the bartenders shares with him after the last man is quickly ushered out, having decided to upend his barstool and his drink. “We have regulars, but there’s always someone obnoxious popping in. If you’re going to be in here frequently, look out for those ones.” The truth of it is staggering, and Merrick quickly becomes used to picking out the humans who show up too far into their cups.

He’s tempted to give the endeavor up - to go back to searching for flares of glamour or seeking out spots that have shown an uptick in greenery growth. He has no desire to spend his afternoons or evenings in this place, repeatedly being approached by pushy humans. Even if getting to Garrick via his companions is a good strategy, he doesn’t have to needlessly suffer time with others.

But then, you walk back into the bar one evening.

Unthinking, he hides, moving to a seat out of your view that still lets him hear your conversation with the friend you’ve brought with you. He thinks he might recognize the fellow as well - his patched jacket and red hair seem familiar anyhow.

“-still think it’s silly,” your friend complains, tapping a knuckle against the bar as he glances at the daily specials. Merrick leans back a little farther in his chair, drinking the sight of you in. “This is the closest and cheapest place to meet, and now we’re going to that dance club? Since when do we all dance?”

“I think it was Em’s idea,” you say with a shrug, smiling and ordering something for yourself. Your friend grimaces, looking only mildly more pleasant when he orders his own drink.

“I think she’s trying to make the moves on Garfield,” your friend adds, a huff of a laugh escaping him.

“No. Red, come on, is that really his full name? I thought it was something like.. Garrett. Or Gary. And Em is going to have a serious time of it, he really only has eyes for-”

“Everyone knows,” Red says with a gruff sigh. “And honestly, I don’t know. I just thought I’d try it out on him and see if it stuck.”

“You really want to saddle him with the name Garfield? What if it is his name and he’s ashamed or something?” You ask before you thank the bartender. You wait until your friend has his glass in hand before you both raise them in some kind of silent toast and drink.

Red wipes the beer foam from his mouth and shrugs. “Then he’ll say something and I’ll let it go. We better hurry up here though, Em will blow her top if we end up being more than a minute late.”

It’s all too easy to glamour himself and shadow the two of you to the dance club. Merrick keeps well back, wrinkling his nose when the thumping music is loud enough for him to hear outside the heavy doors. The two of you don’t even blink, flashing IDs at the door and trading a look that has you both laughing. Merrick follows and drops the glamour as soon as he’s in the door. He doesn’t want to leave half his attention on holding it, or risk walking up to Garrick like a glowing beacon.

Despite the discomfort of the loud noise and the press of the bodies, a stillness comes over him when he does finally spot Garrick sitting at a low table. He looks well fed and completely at ease, staring at a young woman who is talking a mile a minute - though Merrick isn’t sure if Garrick is actually listening to her, or just looking past her. He perks up when he sees you and your friend Red though, waving the two of you over in obvious relief.

“Just you two?” You ask, eyebrows raising when Garrick gets to his feet to greet you with an embrace. You return it kindly enough, but it doesn’t appear to be something that happens frequently. Em doesn’t look quite as happy to have you both there, and Red looks startled when he, too, receives a sudden hug from the tall Land Fae. The three of you take your seats, though Red waves away the drink list when Em offers it to him, grimacing when he sees the prices. Garrick’s hand closes around a half-full glass and he too, looks as if the selection isn’t exactly to his liking.

“Everyone else was busy,” Em says brightly, though the way her eyes dart around tells Merrick that she’s lying. Garrick winces at the lie too, glancing off into the crowd of dancing people.

“What a shame,” Red mutters, scowling at the press of people, just quiet enough that Merrick is fairly sure Em doesn’t catch it. “So did you just have a real hankering for the club scene or-”

“It’s you again!” Your voice pipes up and then Merrick realizes: he’s drifted too close, the crowd of human dancers had parted to let him through. You’re smiling at him again, eyes tracing over his hair and his mouth, and you’re inviting and lovely- and Garrick’s face has gone completely and utterly blank.

“Yeah,” Merrick chokes out, taking another unsteady step towards you when you lift your hand in a slightly shy wave. He can’t get distracted. He can’t, he knows this, but he forces himself to look away from Garrick anyway. The last thing either of them wants is to start a fight amidst the humans, right? He can approach if he sticks to manners.

“I remember you too,” Em perks up, arching an eyebrow. “The runaway. Was it too soon to meet the friends last time?”

“Ignore her,” you urge him, trying to scoot further into the booth to make room for him. “She’s like a sour patch kid,” you tease. The words make no sense to Merrick, but a little of the tightness in Em’s face seems to even out, and she smiles at you, shifting aside so everyone can fit in the booth.

“Join us!” You suggest. “Unless you’re busy. I’m not trying to force our company on you.” You shrug, glancing away, as if you’re regretting your sudden outburst.

“O-of course,” Merrick hastens to say, and wants to kick himself, twice over. He should be claiming some kind of important business with Garrick, he should be trying to complete the task he’s been given by his King and all he wants to do is agree to whatever you say. He takes another step closer, mouth opening- and then there’s a clatter and Red is cursing something awful and Em is squealing, trying to stand in the booth without knocking over the table.

“Seriously?” Red barks, pushing to his feet and trying to grab at any napkins on the table. Garrick’s drink is empty, having been poured almost directly all over Red’s pale trousers. Though there’s a small splatter across Em’s pale shirt as well. “Shit aim, man, look at this!” Red snaps, gesturing at his damp lap.

“Will that stain?” Garrick asks, and he looks guilty, cheeks gone ruddy from embarrassment. “Is there anything I can-”

“He’s crashing on my couch,” you rush to say, getting out of the booth. “It’s not too far, come on, you can grab the clothes you left and shove these in my washer.” You meet Merrick’s eyes and give him a slightly sad smile. “Nice to see you again. One of these days, I’ll actually get the chance to-” You jump when Em latches onto your arm.

“Please let me use your washer too, the dye in that drink-” Em starts, nearly pushing you over as she starts to walk you and Red towards the entrance.

The three of you rush off, apparently having forgotten Garrick- and that’s when Merrick notices the glamour. It’s been washed over the two of them like a shadowy bubble, separating them from the surrounding humans, dulling the noise if not exactly canceling it.

“If you’re here for me,” Garrick says, sounding weary as he rights his fallen glass, “then come after me. Leave them out of this. They’ve done absolutely nothing to you.” He gets to his feet slowly, lips curled into a frown, broad shoulders slouched. There’s still a bit of space left between them, and he’s staring at Merrick like he’s reached the end of a very frayed tether.

For a moment, Merrick believes this is going to be easy. Garrick is all but defeated, tired of running, ready to face the fate laid down for him by his Queen. Merrick unsheathes the small blade he has strapped to his wrist, palming it as quickly and quietly as possible. Garrick’s eyes track the sudden gleam of it in his hand, the sharp edge catching the flashing lights over the dance floor.

“The Queen of Land isn’t pleased,” Merrick tells him, taking a step. Garrick doesn’t move. “The lies you’ve been spreading-”

Tension springs through Garrick’s limbs and Merrick has to throw himself back into the crowd of humans to avoid being tackled to the floor. The humans shriek, and Merrick curses - he’s cut his own hand, and knocked a few dancers down, but otherwise they’re all unhurt. Garrick though, is heading straight for the door, much quicker than Merrick would like.

“Really?” Merrick snaps out, exasperated, and then he’s streaking after Garrick, as fast as his feet will take him, glamouring himself as he goes. For someone so broad, for someone once tasked with doing nothing more than growing the Queen’s garden, Garrick runs like he was born to it. Merrick only just barely keeps up.

He decides though, watching the Fae dodge between humans and hurdle over one parked car, that he’s going to have a long conversation with Garrick before he does as he was tasked.

The chase carries them both through the city on feet too swift for humanity. The glamour is going to make both of them lag after a while, but for some reason Garrick still wants to keep his presence hidden from the humans, more than he wants to escape. Eventually though, Merrick gets tired of running. He strips off his shirt, freeing his aching wings and takes to the skies, just as he realizes that Garrick is heading for the park.

It’s a race then, to try and stop him before he has a myriad of plants at his disposal - and it’s one that Merrick very narrowly misses out on winning. He uses the momentum of his flight to bounce off of a fence, brandishing his weapon in a swinging arch. Garrick dodges the swipe of his blade purely on luck, and then willow tree branches are snapping out at Merrick like whips. He slips his wings back into his skin, not wanting to get them hurt and falls to the ground, rolling across the grass at high speed, stopped only by a park bench to his back.

Merrick grunts with the impact and leaps to his feet, ready to fight, clutching the handle of his blade with a still-stinging palm, and halts.

Garrick is standing on the other side of a slide, chest heaving as he attempts to get back his breath- but he’s not fighting. There’s ivy near at hand, Merrick notes, and he could make swift use of that, but instead he’s just staring, eyebrows drawn together, a frown just barely tugging at his mouth. The both of them stand there and stare, the moon rising slowly overhead.

“The King of Air sent you?” Garrick finally asks, still fairly breathless, eyes darting to the ink lines of Merrick’s wings, wrapped around his biceps and trailing down over his shoulders and arms.

“Are you a gardener?” Merrick asks, rather than answer. The answer to Garrick’s question is obvious anyway. Merrick possesses wings. The question he asks makes Garrick’s eyebrows arch.

“Hardly,” he mutters. “I’ve never been a gardener,” he says at normal volume and his shoulders lose some of their tension, hands resting carefully at his sides. “Were you looking for one?”

Merrick scowls. The Queen of Land had given them incomplete information - or her guard had tracked down the wrong Fae. It’s hard to believe her guard could have been so utterly incompetent though.

“Did you betray the Queen of Land?” He tries instead, straightening from his crouch of a fighting stance. The heat of the chase is beginning to leave him, and he’s regretting abandoning his shirt.

Garrick doesn’t answer, just purses his lips, watching him, waiting for something else to happen, for another question, maybe.

And then Merrick does something absolutely idiotic. He’s searching for common ground, searching for a way to get Garrick to continue speaking, even if it isn’t about something important. The only thing he can think of that he wants to ask, that has nothing to do with the Queen or betrayal - is about you. Heat rises along his neck and face, but before he can stop himself, he blurts out his question.

He asks Garrick for your name.

Garrick’s belly deep laughter echoes throughout the entire park.

⊱ ────── .⋅ 🜁 ⋅. ────── ⊰

...turn the page?

#exophilia #faerie boyfriend #male faerie x reader #fairy boyfriend #male fairy x reader #fairy x reader

52 notes · View notes

dathen · 4 years

Text

I’m so angry that tumblr put my read more WITHIN THE ASK ITSELF so I’m copying the whole post since I worked hard on it:

Ask from @ blue-electric-angel

Hi Dath! Would you feel up to rant about the trolley problem? I've never liked it but I don't know WHY or at least can't articulate it, so I would be interested in hearing another person's thoughts 🤔 But it's okay if you don't want to!!

OKAY TWO DISCLAIMERS

a) I was reminded that I should clarify my dislike of the trolley problem bc of @callmearcturus talking about its issues, so can’t take full credit here!

b) I am not a philosophy expert and find ethical thought games only useful in how they apply to the real world, and find worth in ethical discussions in how they’re applied/affect how people think more than how complex/challenging they are.

THIRD DISCLAIMER I’m very sleepy and pretty sure I have surpassed my words quota of the week so this may be a bit disjointed!!

Some background on my ire: I’m a CPA. Which means majoring in business. Which means being around business majors. Which means BUSINESS ETHICS CLASSES. My eyes start to water every time I think about how many American Dream dudebros tried to apply the trolley problem as a flimsy excuse to devalue those they thought were reasonable sacrifices for their own greater good. Is it worth testing weapons on your own population, if you can then use those weapons to end a war faster? Should we get rid of regulations about medical tests on people, if it would result in life-saving medicine being produced faster? And so on. Rules, protections, and just anything that would require giving another human being agency are treated like nuisances in the way of Great Minds moving and shaping the world as they see fit.

I went and did a search to see if anyone already put my thoughts about the trolley problem into words, and the article The Trolley Problem Will Tell you Nothing Useful About Morality sums it up right from the get-go:

It discourages us from examining the structural factors that determine our choices.

[cut for length]

One thing that drove me BATSHIT about philosophy classes is I was never allowed to bring historical or social context into any of the discussions. I couldn’t challenge Aristotle’s view of women as ranking somewhere near livestock, because if I couldn’t word puzzle my way into a truth, nonsense like “disenfranchisement of women in Ancient Greece” and “self-perpetuating social structures enforcing class and gender divides” didn’t belong in my discussions, apparently!

Which, needless to say, is a huge issue when you start getting into topics of “who should we sacrifice for the greater good” as applied to political policy. I don’t even need to elaborate on this one. It’s always those whose lives are valued less and who have less power in that society. The “greater good” is intensely subjective, and will always include the well-being of the person making the choice.

The trolley problem works from a long list of assumptions that will rarely reflect reality, and shortcut past the most important discussions to be had:

- The person behind the switch has the sole power or responsibility for making the choice. They don’t have the chance to communicate, they don’t have the chance to get input from the people in danger.

- The person behind the switch is the only one with agency, and the only one who CAN have agency.

- The safety of the person behind the switch is assumed. No possible choice could involve them being in danger.

- There’s a time limit that allows nothing more than an impulse decision.

- There’s no examination of why there is only one person with power over the situation, or why those at risk are 100% powerless to leave their situation

- There’s no chance of examining why the trolley is rolling down the tracks in the first place

That last one is where my rage comes from about the misapplication of this thought game re: insisting philosophy must be ahistorical. But the thing that especially gets under my skin is how the agency of other human beings is just completely taken off the table. A non-issue. Something we have to assume wouldn’t make a difference, something we should assume isn’t possible to begin with.

[Stop reading here if you’re avoiding The Magnus Archives spoilers to episode 101]

Since this came up in a TMA context, I’ll veer it over to TMA: I see it get brought up in the context of Gertrude sacrificing Michael to save the world. But this dehumanizes Michael as a person who could have been given agency and information, when in fact we know he was kept ignorant so that he could be more easily manipulated. It places Gertrude behind the switch with no other options other than to pull a lever one way or another. But therein lies the issue with the application of this experiment to “real life” scenarios. Where is talking to Michael instead of betraying him? Where is letting him make a choice of his own? We learn later that his sacrifice wasn’t even necessary, but with the limited information Gertrude had at the time, how much were other options (LIKE GOOD OL C4) explored before she decided to ruin the life of someone who trusted her? Why does she get to ensure her own safety behind the switch, rather than considering herself in the trade of “one life to save the world”?

TMA 155 - Cost of Living is a fantastic deconstruction of how rich and privileged people try to apply the trolley problem to excuse their choices and their abuse of others. The statement giver rationalizes murdering dozens of people to fuel her own life, excusing it with “but I can do so much good if I’m alive!” Meanwhile we’re left horrified that she clearly finds those she postures as being so helpful towards as expendable and “less valuable to society,” such as homeless people and the elderly. We’re left side-eying the idea that a rich person giving to charity while living comfortably as being an indisputable “greater good” when all that’s really happening is one person valuing her own life over the lives of so many others. The statement giver insists the net gain of the world excuses her actions, and tries to narrow the choice down to those two tracks: Don’t pull the switch and lose “all the good she could do,” pull the switch and lose just a handful of people. Listening, we know that the only person on the other track is her, and that her rationalization only enables her to kill again and again.

And that is why I hate the trolley problem.

#there are spoilers for TMA 100 in here but I mark where they start #so if you're not interested in TMA or catching up you can read the rest of me hating on the trolley problem

71 notes · View notes

elichorph · 3 years

Text

OH SHIT???? did you see avery jeong buying princess bandaids at the local cvs after punching out somebody’s car window??? anyways, he’s a legacy and a member of the yale's elite, they're twenty-three and a 1st year grad student majoring in mechanical engineering. they are as strong willed as they are naive.

hello, i am back with my third character. yes this is my second character that has a 5 letter name that starts with an a. yes this intro is extremely long. if you read it i will send you a gif of your fav celeb to thank you.

stats:

full name: avery tobias jeong nicknames: ave age: twenty three birthday: march 8, 1998 ( yeah he’s technically 22 right now but he’ll be 23 soon enough ) chart: pisces sun, aries moon, cancer rising siblings: one ( lilia, younger sister ) gender: cis male pronouns: he / him sexuality: bisexual & biromantic height: 6′0 hair color: black tattoos: random tattoos on his arms, faded hand tattoos (specifically an angel on his left hand) piercings: right earlobe ring

blackmail:

( violence & drugs tw )

he had an unplanned child at nineteen with his ex-girlfriend who he now has little to no contact with. his ex dug up a public intoxication charge that avery’s family had paid to cover up in order to place a restraining order on him and deny him custody of the child.

he was involved in an underground fighting ring for multiple years as a means to make money after being cut off by his family. however, he always took fights too far and was banned from the ring in new haven after he nearly killed one of his opponents.

family:

if you’ve already read lilia’s intro then you can skip this because it’s the same thing!

ya’ll ever read one of those drug ring ao3 fanfics where y/n is dating the sexy drug cartel leader? well that’s their family!

generational family blood money because that’s how cartels work i think. started running + dealing three generations back with their great-grandparents in order for them to make a living. it wasn’t until the so-called business was handed down to their grandparents that they wanted to expand and generate more money. the big pharma cover was created in order for them to manufacture, distribute, and supply at a larger scale. present day, their family name has notoriety with other cartel and mafia families.

basically avery was supposed to take over because he was the oldest right, but lilia did not want that at all. their parents started favoring avery and schmoozing up to him a little bit to get him to say yes (even though avery was fully prepared to give lilia the position) and lilia was like! what the fuck! so she told their parents about this one time that avery accidentally blabbed the family secret to a stranger at a party which broke their one rule of keeping it a secret. their parents wanted nothing to do with him anymore and completely cut avery off and kicked him out of the family.

everyone knows that avery and lilia are siblings, even though they don’t really know the actual details about their past together because avery doesn’t say anything about his family and the cartel is a secret. now that they are both at yale and in the elites together they are just kinda like haha awkward <3 they basically would just tell everyone that they grew apart if other characters tried to pry but also lilia is now telling people that avery fucked up a business decision which is why he left the family and avery is like alright but good luck trying to get other info out of them! xo, the jeongs

present:

after being kicked out of his family, avery booked it to new haven to attend yale. he was able to score a full ride after graduating as the valedictorian of a specialized school for science in nyc and for continuously staying near if not at the top of his class. literally this man is a casual genius. he will get drunk as hell and talk about math for the entire night even if you don’t care. avery joined the elites in his junior year and even though he technically is a legacy from his family, he told them that if he was going to join, he wanted to be recruited for his academics because fuck if he was going to use his family name!

to expand a little more on blackmails, avery was broke as shit after coming to new haven. he still is, but he literally had so little money to his name and eventually found an underground fighting ring and made money by winning matches through that because he is Beefy and a Unit and his anger issues could be released <3 but he would always go a little too hard and would near murk his opponents, especially this one time that caused him to be banned from the ring. now for money he just fixes up people’s air conditioners and fridges and shit and also works maintenance at a hotel chain around connecticut to get money when he really needs it <3 literally if you need something fixed hit him up and he’ll be happy to do it but he would also love if you made him dinner to thank him because he has eaten too much kraft mac n cheese.

when avery was a sophomore, his girlfriend of a few months accidentally got pregnant whoops <3 and he was ready to literally drop everything for his girlfriend and daughter, but his girlfriend didn’t want that because she was lowkey a bitch! she ended up using a secret that avery had told her (that he had a public intoxication charge that his family had covered up) and took him to court and got his custody rights taken away and a restraining order placed on him and then dropped out of yale before anybody could know about the baby and zoomed to another state and now avery is like ok <3 his daughter’s name is skye though and she is four now and sometimes he still gets updates but literally it eats him alive hahaha

personality:

basically paddington going through an emo phase. he has extreme rbf and might be a solid unit who looks intimidating, but he genuinely is so sweet. by his looks you’d expect him to push you down the stairs but in reality he’s the kid who is 20 minutes late to class to hold the door open for people and he’ll feel good about it even if nobody says thank you to him.

certified sad boy! the extremely nice guy you meet at a house party who remembers what drink you like from some time you apparently met three months ago? avery loves house parties for real and will be the angel who cleans up at 5am even if he’s got an exam at 8. he loves to take care of people to fill his fatherly void even though he’s the one that needs help the most.

accepts the fact that he’s now #poor now, but he also gets kind of insecure and jealous seeing everybody pop off with a britney work bitch vc bugatti. tries to keep up with people looks wise at least, he has one old balenciaga cross body bag that has holes in it, way too many ripped pairs of designer jeans, and a scratched gucci belt that you will see him sporting often. might want to bash your face in if you flaunt your wealth and gets kind of whiny about it sometimes.

avery is the type of person that loves the outdoors and going on picnics. his romantic dream is to lay under a tree with the soft summer breeze and play some guitar for the love of his life <3 yes he has a guitar and yes he is actually good at singing even though he gets embarrassed about it. he fucking loves music.

still has that aries moon though, is extremely defensive and my one character who will actually fight in the group chat because what the fuck does he have to lose at this point! avery has extreme anger issues that hurt him more than anything. even though he’s banned from the underground fighting ring, he still needs an outlet and will have his hands shoved in his pockets because they’re either bruised to shit or discolored from how many times they have been bruised. can be found walking home after taking the late bus so he could go scream in a field somewhere.

this man? also naive as fuck. has been hurt by too many people and really just sets him up at this point. an open book most of the time, so much that it hurts him. will tell you everything about himself like the way he can’t sleep in silence and has to have ocean noises playing, but he can’t listen to whale noises because sometimes he wakes up in the middle of the night and thinks it’s a ghost. however, his family stuff is off limits and he will spit in your face if you even think about asking him about it.

won’t hold grudges. the type to see a person for who they are as a whole and if they mess up, he’s just like “you’re better than that /: but it’s fine.” probably why he gets hurt so much

wanted connections

a roommate maybe? i pictured him living in an apartment because he probably wouldn’t be able afford live anywhere else. could be besties, could be someone he barely knows but he just needed someone to move in to split the rent.

the one person who he’ll let take care of him. it probably would take a lot to break through his walls, but this person can calm him down after he gets riled up.

since his ex went to yale, maybe one person who knew her and had somewhat of an idea of what happened. they don’t know everything but maybe from what they heard from his ex, they believe everything was avery’s fault and that he fucked her over entirely.

gut wrenching hate plots of where they really love each other but things just can’t work out for one way or another.

gentle romance <3 slow burn. someone who won’t hurt him PLEASE.

aaaaand someone who takes advantage of how naive he is

and friends. so many friends. he is just so friendly and he isn’t the type to hold shit over people’s heads.