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x011011x · 2 months

Note

Hello there! I'm not sure if you take yandere requests but I'm assuming that you are

Can i request a short fic yandere Cater Diamond x gn! Reader? Just.. Uh, horror-ish maybe? The reader knows about Cater's weirdly obsessive tendencies and is trying to subtly avoid him

“Did you sleep well? Don’t lie to me, I watched you.”

They Wouldn't Believe You

Yandere!Cater x NonReciprocating!Reader Horror

Trigger warnings: Stalking, violence, blood, isolation, mentions of sexual behaviour, Cater is a whole ahh trigger warning in this fic ngl

Word count: 2.8k+

This is my first time doing requests so I'll be looking forward to any criticisms you have!! It was really fun writing this and I really got into the mood by the end but I was too scared of making this too long for a short fic. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this story!! <3

He walked behind you and while you didn't look at him, you knew he was looking at you, dissecting you with his chemically green eyes.

Static buzzed in your ears. You wanted to look back, just to confirm whether you were right. You knew you were, but you almost didn't want to believe it. He was someone you had loved. Someone you had trusted. Now he had become but a shell of who he was to you before, ailed with twisted obsession for you– which only the Great Sevens knew how he developed.

You tried resisting the urge to look him in the eyes, but giving that primal response to your fear was much stronger than what your brain could logically think out. You looked back, knowing it would fuel his fire more.

Sick green eyes looked back at you, like beautiful emeralds tainted with blot. His lips were curled up in a disturbing smile, pearly whites perfectly ready to tear through your flesh if he was met with rejection again. His eyes looked at you but they weren't exactly focused, like the gaze of a delusional man.

A soft blush creeped up on his cheeks.

"Hey, (Name)! Been a while since we last spoke. Cay-cay missed you~!"

At first, you were quite fond of the redhead. Cater seemed like the fun, carefree upperclassman. A far cry from someone as rigid and strict as Riddle. You just thought he was so cool. He had tons of Magicam followers, he was in a band as the guitarist. He was also so sweet to you. He always treated you to lunch and he even helped you buy your first phone.

Later you realised that how nice he was could be better defined by the word 'eerie', rather than 'welcoming'.

You'd often catch him staring at you, but he didn't look away when you caught him. Rather, the man approached you in such a friendly manner, you'd feel compelled to think that you were the one who saw wrong. You'd often feel guilty that you were taking a well meaning upperclassman in such a bad light.

On a random day, you and your group were hanging out just as usual. You watched as Ace and Deuce bantered about something stupid, like who would paint the roses. Ace exclaimed, drawing out the other boy's name, "Deuceeeee! I painted the rose just yesterday! How can you do this to me?"

Before Ace could babble on further, the jade eyed man slapped his palms on the ginger's face, "Ace! Don't lie! How could've you painted the roses yesterday when I myself painted them?"

Ace shoved Deuce's hand away from his face and retorted back, clutching onto his chest as if he was accused of a grave crime he didn't do in front of a judge, "Dude, I was doing the eastern side of the maze! I swear to the Great Sevens!"

"Ohh. I was doing the western side."

"Then, it's neither of our duties today, you idiot! Did you leave your brain back in your room?"

"Wait, but Mr. Diamond said that it's our duty today?"

"No, it's not! He lied to you, you dumbass. Gosh, deduction is not your greatest forte. Is it, buddy?"

"Are ya picking a fight about this?!"

You laughed softly as you them argue and sometimes even hit each other. Before Ace could open his mouth to spew some more of his nonsense, they both seemed to go quiet together. You and Grim looked at each other and then at them, they were also uncomfortably looking at each other and then at you.

You wondered if they wanted to say something to you, but before you could get any word out, Grim beat you to it, "Why are you two looking at my henchman like that?" He asked curiously, looking at you, trying to see if there's anything wrong with you. "They seem fine to me."

"It's uh- it's nothing really," the orange eyed boy stammered.

Deuce followed up, agreeing with Ace "Yeah, we have nothing suspicious to say about Mr. Diamond at all."

"Dude!"

"Oh- Um… uhh…"

That day you found out that Cater liked you. It wasn't mutual, at all. You thought of him as a friend and a close one at that. But, you weren't offended by him liking you at all. Rather, you felt the need to make things clear between you two so that you could continue on with your friendship.

So you decided to call him to the main street and resolve the issue together.

The autumn leaves cracked under your feet as you walked down the main street on campus. You waited patiently for the young man, fingers nervously drumming against the side of your outer thighs. You were tired from the day, but the thought of Cater liking you ran like marathons in your head. You walked in circles without realising, tensed with how to approach the issue as politely as possible.

'He could do way better than me with how popular he is. Is he insane?'

Sweat ran down your forehead. You wiped it off with a sigh. Your heart beat painfully against your ribs. You trusted him, you truly did. You didn't doubt him even once in the half an year you two had been friends. Maybe it was precisely because he was an expert at keeping such troubling emotions to himself and only put up the most acceptable version of himself is why you trusted him so much?

You stopped in your tracks when you heard an airy voice behind you, cheerfully calling out to you.

"(Name)!"

You turned to look at him. (E/C) eyes bored into his green ones. He looked like a mess, a hard day from his head resting against the desk from when he had been sleeping in class. You laughed as you saw him run up to you, heaving loudly.

"Hey Cater," you greeted him softly, reaching up to rake your fingers through his hair to set it in place, "Your hair looks a mess."

"Aha! Looks like I'm getting advice from the best hair stylist in town!" he closed his eyes as he felt your soft fingers touch his scalp. His face looked content and peaceful whenever you touched him. You couldn't believe all this time it was because he liked you.

After you were done, you moved back, thumb holding your chin. Your face feigned the focus of an artist precisely scrutinising their art for any imperfections. Honestly, Cater was beautiful enough to be a piece of art. You knew he had a low self esteem, and it saddened you. You knew you shouldn't say anything misleading, but you couldn't help yourself, "You look beautiful, Cater."

He fluttered his eyes open, the smile dissolving from his face. For a few seconds, he looked at you with an unreadable expression on his face. A gentle smile spread on his lips, reaching his eyes as the forest-like hues looked back at you with admiration. He cooed, "Thanks, (Name). Appreciate the sentiment."

You both spent some time just looking at each other, smiling stupidly in the simplistic joy of such a trivial moment of your day. You wanted to forget about what Ace and Deuce had told you, the thoughts still tugged at the back of your heart painfully. You wanted to say something but you contemplated your cards in a hassle, thinking it might ruin everything you both had. The sweet friendship you cherished so much.

Before you could speak, he asked himself, "So? What did you call me here for?"

'Ah. Yeah. I need to say something,' you thought. You hesitated, the words stuck in your throat. You looked down at the ground, opening and closing your mouth like a beached fish, not knowing what to say. A hand rested itself on your shoulder. That caught your attention as you looked up at the redhead. He was still smiling yet something felt… sickening about his eyes. It was a sentiment you could never utter to him.

He looked down at you and his eyes held a sort of harrowing glint you'd seen before in him. It seemed as though his gaze was piercing into your soul. For the first time, his eyes seemed less like the calming forest and more like burning chemicals.

"They told you, didn't they?" he posed a simple question, voice light with his signature lul. His grip on your shoulder tightened.

You bit your lips. You didn't want to rat your friends out and possibly get them in trouble. You had never felt this way… this scared because of Cater. Even though he still sounded sweet. Oh so sweet. But you could see how his other hand was clenched tightly, you could see his jaw flexing against the side of his face. He was angry. You thought that maybe he ought to be, being told on by underclassmen, but only if he was anyone else but the man you trusted.

Your dearest upperclassman. Someone you considered one of your best friends

"Y-yeah.." you muttered out, scared to lie to him when he was in such a state.

As lean as he was, he was still stronger than you as a mage. One snap of his fingers and there'd be enough of him to beat you to a pulp. You didn't know how he was when he was angry and you didn't want to take your chances.

'It hurts.' you thought. Your shoulder had gone numb already. As if he could read your mind, the green eyed man took his hand off of you.

"Well? What's your answer, (Name)? Surely you wouldn't disappoint poor Cay-cay!" he asked, looking expectant.

"About that.." this was the moment. You had to make things right. You couldn't let him live in delusion. This was still your friend, a person you held close. You sighed with regret before announcing, "Cater, I'm sorry to say but I can't accept your feelings."

It felt as though time stopped. Cater looked at you and you looked back at him, both wordless. He looked like he had something to say but he kept his words to himself, nothing could suddenly grow the same sentiments in you that he had in himself for you.

The breeze was cool but it felt searingly hot against your skin for the few moments you had to wait for a response. But, Cater didn't resort to anger. Rather, with that same complex, unreadable expression from before, he turned on his back. He waved at you with a wink, "No worries! See you tomorrow, (Name)."

Knowing him, you had trusted that he wouldn't take rejection badly. But you were almost dumbfounded how easily he took it. It's as if the biggest burden was lifted off of your chest. Now you could return to your regular life where Cater and you are best friends.

Nothing more, nothing less.

You hated him. You hated him. You hated him.

You didn't know why that creep was approaching you right now. A manic look on his face, as if he just recovered from frantic hysteria. He muttered out, "Can we talk for a while?"

You clutched onto the gash on your arm that he had inflicted on you two months ago after luring you into his bedroom for a 'movie night' that went way south. He exclaimed that it was a way to keep you all for him now that the jig was up. Cut you up, so that you could be his in life and beyond the bar of death. Embrace him with the promise of eternity, even if it meant your demise. You couldn't understand his logic, obviously.

"You haven't loved someone like that, you know?"

It was only by a sliver of a chance that Trey heard you scream and came to your rescue. But you couldn't tell him that it was Cater who cut you. Not when Cater dropped the knife at your feet right before he came in. Not when Cater looked so worried about that cut, asking if you were okay. Not when Cater hurriedly went to find the first aid kit, as if he wasn't the reason you needed one in the first place.

You couldn't tell Trey with all those things into account. He wouldn't believe you.

It was horrible what Cater had started doing to you.

He would send you letters in a completely different handwriting describing things only he knew about. He'd describe all the violent things he wanted to do to you and the men you talked to because of how jealous he was. He would swear he would kidnap you and marry you. How no one could stop him, not even you. As the letters progressed, so did the nauseating scribbles that came along with it, each one describing what he's planning in a nonchalant tone.

He was outside your window. You couldn't wake Grim up. You were ashamed to.

That's what he had made you. Ashamed. And hateful. And fearful. And regretful, regretful that you had ever trusted a man like that. Ashamed to say what was happening to anyone. They wouldn't believe you. They wouldn't believe you. They wouldn't believe you. And even if they did, they'd think you're the problem. You're the weak one. Or maybe that, he wasn't, in fact, "Violating you like that at all, you're just delusional".

When you came back home from school, you'd find your clothes taken, only for the next letter you receive to describe how much he enjoyed using your clothes to sate his sexual urges. It was so humiliating. You'd cry as you read the letters. Maybe he'd get rid of the clothes before you could report him. And then, the fingers would be pointed at you. You'd be the one sworn at. You'd be the one who'd be shunned.

No one would believe you.

You hadn't seen him since that night. And now there he was. Your devil, standing right in front of you. You wanted to run, you wanted to scream. You knew you had to do something. But, it was the middle of the day. Everyone was around. How would you explain your situation to everyone even if you were to react that way? He was friends with everyone, there was hardly anyone who disliked him. And then there was you, infamous of all students for no good reasons at all.

He took a few steps closer to you. You took one singular step back. You opened your mouth to request, "Please, go away."

"No! (Name)!" He looked like he was prepared to get on his knees to beg you to stay. "Let's… chat. I love your scent, but nothing's cuter than your voice~! I've missed it…" he paused, before shortly adding with a certain baritone that made you tremble, "I've missed you."

"Cater, it's not like that between us-" you tried getting away as he came close to you but before you could, he grabbed onto your wrists.

"You don't know what it's like between us. Our relationship is special and-" he stopped, observing you for a moment before another sickening smile bloomed on his face, "You've developed eyebags. Those must be because you're worried about Cay-cay. I sweaaaar, I'll love them too! I think they're pretty cute!"

"It's…" you tried moving your hand away it wouldn't budge. His grip was painlessly binding, undoubtedly it could turn into crushing in mere seconds, "It's not because of you, you motherfucker!"

"Really? Then whose letters are those that you read late at night?"

What.

"What?"

"Those letters!" he shakes you, a bit harshly. Enough to get your heart stuck in your throat as he demanded to know "Whose are those?!"

"Y-yours," you blurted out, scared of what he would do to you if he thought that the letters were from someone else.

"See? Wasn't so tough to admit it, now was it? The letters are pretty romantic, aren't they?"

You looked at him dumbfounded. He describes gutting Ace as though it's just like making fish fillet even though by day he and the other ginger boy make a pretty good pair. He thinks that is romantic? But, it was more absurd that he knew you stayed up at night reading his letters. Wordlessly, he knew that is what you were most perplexed by, and he chuckled sweetly, "Oh Dear Sevens, your face can be put up in Magicam right now. Talk about #earlyhalloween."

You didn't know how he was making light of the situation. It was as if he had forgotten the morale reasoning behind his own acts.

"Tell you what, cutie? You can drop the whole distant act now. They might get suspicious and even if you said anything they-"

"...Wouldn't believe me."

For all you were concerned, you were dealing with people from the moment you woke up till the moment you went to bed. Yet, he had so meticulously managed to isolate you. You grit your teeth and thought to yourself that it would be different if he wasn't a mage. But, would it be any different? You wondered.

He smiled at you.

His eyes reminded you of green radium. But everyone would object. They would tell you his eyes were more like the gentle forest.

After all, they all stopped believing you.

Don't copy my work okay!? >:((

Though taking inspiration is always welcome <33

Be sure to like, comment and reblog if you like this fic, it'll definitely help in my goals of becoming popular.

#disney twst #twisted wonderland #twst #tw.dark content #tw.yandere #heartslabyul #cater diamond x reader #cater diamond

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mytalemyworld · 1 year

Note

I get why you feel that Doruk was OOC. I wonder this myself. Because while I agree that he acted harshly and weirdly, at the same time Doruk keeps glossing over his mother's wrongs. He hit Berk at the party just because he wanted to go to the police (rightfully so). After the cleaning fiasco, he honestly thought Nebahat would be nice to Asiye during the dinner. So maybe this is just Doruk who keeps making mistakes to protect Nebahat. He needs a harsh lesson even before the secrets are revealed.

I get your point. An interesting approach.

I may accept that he could be protective of her in some cases but not shortly after he realized his mother is cunning and desperately wants Asiye to stay away from him. At least he could have been calmer like I said. There's a difference between saying "what kind of nonsense are you talking, don't you see she is crying" and "okay ladies, don't argue, please don't say unpleasant things, what's going on". Doruk seemed like the person who could say the latter. He even talked more maturely when Asiye talked harshly to Melisa and he didn't know the reason back then too. But now when there are too many reasons for him to think about it, he chose to do this.

I mean, if this scene had happened last season I could have understood his harshness. His harshness especially didn't make sense. I understand that you see this as a mistake on his behalf, a mistake that he can make given how he is protective of his mother. Maybe you're right, maybe this is just a mistake -a very bad one- not ooc, but the way it escalated didn't sit right with me. It didn't look natural and left a bad taste in my mouth.

By the way there's one thing the show always keeps doing: Forgetting many bad things the family members did which I find very annoying. He knew his mother hid a crime, did things behind his back and organized a conspiracy. The fact that he still doesn't see what his mom is capable of is kind of disturbing.

If the whole Resul incident didn't give him a lesson, I don't know what will possibly happen in the future. All incidents should be a step for the character growth and I expected to see a progress. They made me believe that Doruk made that progress and got smarter in this aspect. This was my expectation, maybe this wasn't their intention in the first place so I don't know, maybe I should expect nothing anymore.

#anon #thoughts

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 3 years

Text

not allowed iii, m | jjk, myg

pairing(s): jungkook x reader x est. relationship yoongi

summary: Your relationship with Min Yoongi, SUGA of BTS, is unlike anything else in the entire world. At this point, it’s almost like telepathy with how close you are. Still, he surprised you. Such as asking Jeon Jungkook to fuck you. Once. Twice. And this time Jungkook is waiting for you, with Yoongi.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; established relationship with Yoongi (and they basically have heart eyes whenever they see each other lol); tiny bit of angst; feels and fluff; smut (fem reader, dirty talk, voyeurism, f and m-receiving oral, fingering, m-masturbation, partial handjob, doggy, double penetration/spit roasting); idol!BTS; takes place after 2021 GDA, yup blond JK is best boy and kind boy

mentions of the pandemic because this is based on real time

–

You closed the door behind you and breathed out slowly. It was late, quite dark outside. Most people would be asleep by now. You unhooked your black face mask from your ears and pushed the hood of your black parka down, releasing your hair.

Ah, there was always stress and adrenaline to get here.

You had stated working again, so you weren't here every day anymore. You had to go back after all, if you wanted to keep your job. You worked from home most days and, with the current state of the world, now it was all the time. Still, you couldn’t take any chances. You made sure to get tested and have your results before coming here. Negative, so you were good.

You turned on the light.

A blond bullet collided into you.

"Oof!"

You had to plant your feet and brace for impact, and you still almost toppled over. You would have if it wasn't for the strong arms that encircled you and lifted you up, making you dizzy as you were spun around.

"Ack, J-Jungkook..."

You could feel your eyes rolling in their sockets. You were put firmly on the ground and still being squeezed to death.

"I'm so happy to see you!" Jeon Jungkook, the Golden Maknae of BTS, exclaimed, albeit in a hushed tone, but no less excited. "I was surprised when you said you could come today!"

You managed to blink your eyeballs back in place to see Jungkook's animated face above you, blond hair fluffy and bouncy from spinning you around. He wasn't wearing any makeup and he smelled freshly washed, as if he had taken a late shower. His brown eyes were sparkling as he grinned at you, showing off his bright white teeth. You hadn't seen his ash blond hair in real life yet, only on television.

You smiled at him. "Yeah? Did you miss me?"

Jungkook nodded quickly. "I wanted to show you my hair." He bent down and placed it against your nose. You could smell the nice scent of the herbal product he used. “Do you like it, noona?"

You chuckled. "Of course, I like it," you said fondly, nuzzling the dark roots of the blond locks. It felt nice inhaling his familiar scent, a comforting and clean one. "You're my lock screen."

"I've been betrayed."

You chuckled as you heard the raspy, sleepy voice of Min Yoongi, your boyfriend. Owner of said apartment you were in right now. The lazy center of your universe. The reason why you even bothered to run around in the dark. The reason why you had to match your schedule with the guard shift so the security that recognized you could turn a blind eye. Not all of the security recognized you, just the ones Yoongi had a careful and stem conversation with. That’s how it had to be.

All because Min Yoongi was also SUGA of BTS. Agust D. Lil meow meow. The softest fluff with the sharpest tongue.

You looked up to see Yoongi padding down the hallway in a black long-sleeved shirt and a pair of loose black pants. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, squinting, but with a small smile on his lips. Jungkook released you as Yoongi neared, your body automatically wandering towards him. You reached into your oversized parka coat and pulled out your phone. You had changed the outside once again, to a TinyTan SUGA clear case, to show off the multi-chrome purple finish of the BTS S20+. You turned it around in your hand and pressed the side button. The screen lit up, revealing your lock screen.

"Thanks for standing next to each other. It made picking a lock screen much easier."

It was a picture of Jungkook and Yoongi, standing on stage right before the 'Life Goes On' performance at GDA 2020.

"I missed seeing you there," you added softly, holding your phone tightly. It was weirdly emotional, knowing Yoongi was back. How could he ever think anyone was going to forget him? “It’s always better when the seven of you are together.”

Yoongi chuckled, fluffing the back of his black hair. "Ah, back to working hard once again..." he complained, but you could tell he didn't mean it at all.

And for you.

You wanted him to be on stage again. You wanted him to be busy again, doing what he loved, getting into nonsense in Run BTS!, looking cool in photo shoots, back to actively making music all the time. You were an independent person and you didn't necessarily need your significant other to always be beside you. For the longest time, you had even been quite comfortable with it. But the little while of Yoongi's sudden rest made you realize that it was nice to always be around him. To be somewhat normal, even if your relationship couldn’t and would never be fully normal.

And now you were disturbing his sleep. Now, not just his, but Jungkook's too. And maybe... Maybe that made you a burde–

Yoongi suddenly stepped up and tapped you lightly on the forehead with two fingers.

"Stop that train of thought right now."

You frowned and bonked him right back with the back of your hand. "What if I was thinking about dick, huh?"

"If you were thinking about dick, you'd be on Jungkook's right now, and then I'd be pulling up a chair to watch the show."

"What if I was thinking about your dick, hmm?"

"Do you even remember what my dick looks like?" Yoongi replied haughtily.

"Of course, I do. You painted the fucking Mona Lisa on my tits the last time I was here."

"Hm, you're right."

Jungkook was laughing hard behind you, the high-pitched one that came out when he couldn’t help himself. Both of you turned to see Jungkook with his arms around his stomach as he cackled at your bickering.

"It's like..." Jungkook wheezed. "It's like watching hyung fight himself and losing..."

"I’m not losing," Yoongi retorted, pursing his lips.

"You always lose."

"Because I let you win."

"That's true, because you love me."

You smiled cheekily at Yoongi. You thought he was going to give you his usual snappy comeback, but instead he leaned over and kissed your forehead. His hair shaded his eyes a little. He smiled at you, dark brown orbs sparkling.

I do love you.

"You wanna spend all night standing here or are you going to join me in bed?" Yoongi teased, ticking his chin at your sneakers.

You pointed to Jungkook. "Is he coming too?"

The laughter instantly left Jungkook’s face, replaced by nervousness. "Ah... I don't have to..." he stammered. "If you guys want to be alone... I only wanted to say hello..."

"He's coming," Yoongi said purposefully, ignoring Jungkook's ramble. "He's been waiting two hours to stick his dick in you."

"Hyung!"

You raised your eyebrows as you stepped out of your shoes. "I stated my arrival time in the text. Did you not tell him?"

"I told him, but he came right after shooting. Just in case you arrived earlier."

You smirked and tugged on Jungkook’s white shirt. "Did he tell you why I can only come at specific times?"

"I know, but..." Jungkook chewed on his lip. "Hyung said he would try and see if you could come more often."

You smiled ruefully as you took Yoongi's hand and followed him down the hall. You were still holding onto Jungkook's shirt, so you lowered your hand to take his too. He looked surprised for a second before you squeezed it reassuringly. The white with his blond hair was a good choice. You wondered if it was done on purpose. He was even wearing nicer black trousers, although his shirt wasn’t tucked in.

Was it for your sake?

"Ah, I don’t know if that’s possible. Don't want anyone to find out, after all. And," you added with a chuckle. "I don't want to get you in trouble either, Jungkookie."

"He's already in trouble," Yoongi laughed. "Taehyung caught him mumbling your name in his sleep."

Jungkook's cheeks instantly flushed. "I-It wasn't sexual!"

You blinked at him. "No one said it was."

He turned redder and grabbed your parka, hiding his face behind the big hood. "R... right."

Maybe you were being too greedy. Maybe you should have kept your mouth shut so Yoongi wouldn’t feel pressure to indulge in your fantasies. Maybe you were asking too much.

The sigh came out of you, heavy with self-doubt.

"Maybe we shou–"

Yoongi's lips were suddenly on yours, kissing you deeply. Your eyes widened as he pressed you against Jungkook's hard body, watching you through half-lidded eyes. He could sense your worry and perhaps he guessed your reaction. You hand reached back to hold onto Jungkook to prevent yourself from falling, but your eyes were on Yoongi, the one who knew you best, the one who knew that he too was asking a lot from you, the one who was trying to remind you that everything was okay. His dark brown orbs were telling you, we will take everything step by step, and his lips moved on yours, I love you. You mouthed it back with a smile.

Yoongi pulled away, the smile reaching his eyes.

"You're the most special person to me."

Your heart softened, hearing those familiar words from your current favorite song.

"I thought that was for ARMY."

Yoongi raised an eyebrow in mock distraught. "Are you not an ARMY?"

"Of course."

"Then it's for you too."

Yoongi was like that. He couldn't and wasn't the kind of guy to write you traditional love songs, but he gave you all sorts of other things. Small things, actions that seemed trivial or nonexistent to others. And maybe someone else would overlook those things, but you knew how difficult it was for him to show affection, even more so because of his job. To be honest, you were similar, showing your love in nuance and teasing. Also, you liked the treasure hunt that was Min Yoongi. And above all, most importantly, he listened to you, listened so deeply it felt like he knew what you were thinking.

There was nothing like the telepathy been you and Min Yoongi.

Jungkook was sniffing your head.

"What's this small?"

You almost laughed at his childlike tone. Yoongi smiled too, leaning forward and sniffing your temple, next to your hair.

"Oh? It's fruity."

"It's peaches," you explained as Jungkook parted your hair to sniff deeper, as if that was going to do anything. He was probably just trying to fuck up your hair. "I ran out of shampoo and they didn’t have my usual at the store."

You were suddenly aware that you were squashed between Yoongi and Jungkook’s bodies as they two of them were smelling you, Yoongi’s arms around your waist, Jungkook’s hands on your hips. Despite being fully clothed, the position was sending tingles up your spine, your breathing shallowing, tickling Yoongi’s cheek as Jungkook brushed your hair to one side, pressing his lips against your bare neck. You felt Yoongi’s lips on your jaw, kissing against your pulse. You whined a little, one hand bunching against Yoongi’s shirt as your other hand drifted down to Jungkook’s right hand on your hip, stroking his knuckles.

Yoongi reached up to unzip your parka.

“W-wait, be careful–” you started, but Yoongi shushed you, nuzzling your cheek.

“I will be,” Yoongi whispered softly. “That’s why Jungkook’s here to help me.”

You bit your lip as Yoongi unzipped your coat with his right hand, using his left to hold the placket down. He kissed up to your mouth as his hands slid into the coat, fingers brushing against the red flannel underneath. Jungkook’s lips were moving up to your ear, lightly nipping at the curve and making you shiver, chest bumping against Yoongi’s as your ass hit Jungkook’s crotch.

“I…” You shut your eyes, trying to concentrate as Yoongi sucked on your lower lip. “I don’t deserve this…”

Yoongi clicked his tongue, biting at your lip roughly. You opened your eyes to his disapproving glare, eyes dark from his lowered lashes. His large hands squeezed your waist.

“You’re not allowed to say such things.”

You felt the heat spread from his hands, pooling into your core.

“Isn’t that right, Jungkook?”

Yoongi ticked an eyebrow at you as you gasped a little, Jungkook’s lips on your earlobe, voice lustful and deep.

“That’s right, noona. Let Yoongi-hyung and I ruin you.”

…

Help.

Yoongi’s fingers began undoing the buttons of the red flannel, one by one. He was well practiced at unbuttoning shirts with one hand now. A skill that he had honed for himself and for you. He smirked as you noticed, whispering your name in a slow, purring drawl, deep and raspy, dark brown eyes watching you and drinking in your reaction.

Min Yoongi was scary. He knew how to make you wet instantly.

And then Jungkook did the same, breathing your name into your ear in his silvery low octave. Your hand on Yoongi’s shirt clenched and tugged him close, moaning into his lips, kissing him hard. Jungkook’s hand slipped out of yours and reached up to your shoulders, pushing your clothes down, revealing your bare skin. Taking them off you as your tongue slid into Yoongi’s mouth, his soft pants against your lips as your hips grinded into Jungkook’s crotch, feeling him harden at your closeness. Your parka and shirt slid to the floor as Yoongi pulled you forward, closer and closer to the bed, Jungkook encouraging you by smacking your ass with his hips.

Yoongi broke the kiss with a flick of his head, making you whine in disappointment. He chuckled, looking down at you with a devious smile.

“Jungkook wants something from you.”

Yoongi turned you around with his hands on your hips, colliding you with Jungkook’s hard chest. You gasped a little, looking up to see Jungkook chewing on his lower lip, bunny teeth flashing. The tiny mole under his lip bounced with his biting. His golden hair framed his apprehensive brown eyes, finally making eye contact.

“What’s wrong, Jungkook?” You tilted your head. “Do you want me to blow you again?”

Jungkook’s ears flushed red. “A-ah, n-no… I mean, yes, but…”

Yoongi snickered, unhooking your bra with his right hand. He lowered one strap and then the other, stripping it from you and tossing it aside. Jungkook’s cheeks tinged pink, eyes immediately dropping to stare at your tits. You smirked, placing your palms underneath them and bouncing them a little. You felt Yoongi’s fingers dancing down the small of your back, hovering around the waistband of your black sweatpants.

“Why aren’t you dressed like how you are on your Instagram?” Yoongi muttered behind you. “False advertising.”

“You have an Instagram?” Jungkook blurted out, still staring at your nipples.

You rolled your eyes even though Yoongi couldn’t see you. “Because someone would notice, obviously.”

Yoongi clicked his tongue. “Just one time…”

“Wait, how come I don’t know you have an Instagram?” Jungkook whined, hands coming up to settle on your breasts and squeezing them. You lowered your hands, gasping as Jungkook’s palms rubbed against your hard nipples.

“You never asked,” Yoongi answered, snapping the waistband into your skin. “Also, it’s private.”

“C-can we talk about this later?” you panted out.

Jungkook grinned and dropped his hands a little, brushing his fingers against your nipples. You moaned softly, your vision shaded by your lashes, seeing his mischievous smirk.

“Mhm, as long as you promise to show me after.”

You scoffed. “Sure, it’s not that interestin–” You whimpered as Jungkook pinched your nipples, rubbing them between his fingertips. “A-ah, Jungkook…”

He breathed your name, no honorifics, and your eyes locked with his. Fuck, he was so handsome with his ash blond hair, reminding you of when Yoongi had blond hair. Ugh, so fucking hot. You felt your sweatpants being shoved down your hips but you barely noticed, lost in daydreams of blond Yoongi and blond Jungkook.

“Can I eat you out?”

You were abruptly yanked back into the present by Jungkook’s request.

“Yes.” Fuck. You said that far too fast and far too needy. Jungkook grinned, removing his hands from your breasts. “Ah, I mean…”

He leaned forward, pressing his nose against yours. “You’re out of it today.”

You felt Yoongi’s fingers slip under the waistband of your panties. His lips were traveling down your back, kissing down your spine. You trembled slightly, swallowing as you stared into Jungkook’s dark brown eyes.

And you couldn’t help but think, was this really okay? Was this fair, for you to have both at once?

Jungkook tipped his head, lips against yours. He seemed to sense your hesitation. “I thought you wanted me?” His soft hair brushed against your cheek, golden rays blocking your vision. “Thought you loved looking at me?”

“I do,” you whimpered. “I love looking at you.”

Yoongi fingers pulling your panties down, down, liquid leaking out and clinging to the inside of your thighs. Your cheeks heated, realizing how wet you were.

“Then what’s the matter?” Yoongi purred against your lower back.

“Don’t… don’t want to hurt you, Yoongi,” you whispered against Jungkook’s lips. Your vision blurred and you blinked rapidly. Ah, why was the world so heavy all of a sudden? Why couldn’t you be calm as usual? Why couldn’t you roll with it as usual?

Because you missed them.

Them.

Jungkook kissed you tenderly as Yoongi stood back up, his lips pressed to your ear.

“There’s nothing like us. You know there isn’t.”

He was right, of course. There was nothing like you and Yoongi.

Jungkook pulled back and Yoongi’s right hand appeared in your periphery, his long fingers tucking Jungkook’s blond hair behind his left ear, giving you a clear view of Jungkook’s beautiful eyes, the unique shape, the rich brown color, the way they looked at you, as if he was afraid you were going to disappear. Waiting for the heartbreak.

“And there’s no one like Jungkook,” Yoongi murmured. “You want him. He wants you. Isn’t that enough?”

And Yoongi was right again. There was no one like Jungkook.

“I’m sorry, Jungkook,” you breathed. “I’m sorry, but I really do want you so bad.”

“You can have me. However much you want,” Jungkook replied. Eyes locked with yours, meaning every word. He tilted his head, leaning in again, lashes lowering, breath against your lips.

“I want you to take it all.”

But Jungkook wasn’t the only one who said it.

Your eyes widened as you heard Yoongi echo Jungkook’s words right into your ear.

“Take it all,” Yoongi growled. “Take it and don’t hold back.”

Your name fell from Yoongi’s lips, your name, like a spark to fire, igniting you. There no one like Yoongi, snapping you out of your doubt, taking your heart and holding it tight while turning you on. You grabbed Jungkook’s white shirt and yanked his body to yours as you kissed him, inhaling his clean scent, his lips an addiction. And there was no one like Jungkook, because what both of you thought was just a crush, just a one-time thing, wasn’t. For some reason, you couldn’t stop and he couldn’t stop, hooked on the taste of his lips and his tongue sliding against yours, moaning into your mouth as you moaned into his, feeling Yoongi’s hands on your hips, pressing you into Jungkook’s clothed crotch, some of your juices getting onto his pants and staining them.

Jungkook pushed your head up, breaking the kiss and gasping, eyelids fluttering. He pressed your head back against Yoongi’s shoulder, kissing down your chest, running his tongue over your skin. You shuddered, head falling back down to watch him. Chocolate orbs to yours as he licked your left nipple, twirling his wet muscle around it, covering it with saliva. You whimpered at the dirty action, arching your back to press the hard nub into his mouth. Jungkook whined in his throat, closing his lips around it as you humped your chest onto his face. He sucked hard, hollowing his cheeks, intensifying the feeling as Yoongi teased your other nipple, pinching it and rolling it between his fingers.

“Fuck, Jungkook, fuck…”

Your thighs squeezed together, desperate for friction.

Jungkook released your nipple, licking it a few times, letting you watch the swollen nub get slapped back and forth by his tongue. You shivered, hips bumping into his. Jungkook’s strong hands came up to hold you still.

“Don’t waste it by rubbing it all over me,” he teased. “I want it in my mouth.”

You clutched his white shirt and yanked up, making Jungkook yelp with your force.

“Take it off,” you half-growled, half-whined. “Need it off.”

Yoongi chuckled at your impatience as Jungkook wiggled out of his shirt, throwing it aside. He looked back at you, blond hair covering one of his eyes, smirk on his lips.

“Better?”

Ugh, Jungkook was so attractive. The shape of his broad shoulders, his sculpted arms, the fucking tattoos that shone on his tan skin, the way his body trimmed down to that v-line. Your eyes roamed down his torso and then back up, licking your lips. Jungkook raised his eyebrows, completely aware of your staring.

“Yes. Much better.”

You took him by the shoulders and pushed him down to his knees. His eyes widened, stumbling a little as he knelt for you, hands coming up to grip your hips for support. You pushed his left hand away, hooking your leg onto Jungkook’s left shoulder and presenting your pussy right into his face. He gasped at the sight, eyes glued to your dripping core, lips parting wetly.

“Fuck,” he breathed hotly. You squirmed, trying to get into his face, but his right hand held you down, drinking in the image in front of him, left hand finding your ass and gripping it tightly. “You smell so fucking sexy.”

“Jungkook, please…”

His eyes flickered up to your face, half-lidded with lust, dipping his head down.

“Can’t resist you,” he mumbled. “I just have to have a taste of his nectar.”

And then his tongue on you, licking a fat stripe across your opening, moaning as your flavor invaded his tastebuds, his hand lifting your ass to tip your hips into his hot mouth. You gasped, pressing into Yoongi’s chest, your hands reaching behind you and gripping his slim waist. You had to tilt your body and lock your upper arms so you wouldn’t bump into his left shoulder by accident. Yoongi hummed soothingly, aware of your consideration, hands gently kneading your breasts as Jungkook’s wet tongue slid into your hole, witnessing your wanton expression as he sucked out your juices, adding a little suction, removing it, driving you insane.

“A-ah, yes, fuck, Jungkook, yes…”

When was the last time Yoongi ate you out? Months ago. Yoongi had a tongue unmatched, the perfect combination of speed, pressure, and technique. His tongue technology, one might say. Jungkook’s tongue was softer, less practiced, but he made up for it with enthusiasm and his intense gaze on you, moaning into your pussy. You slid down a little and cried out as his tongue made contact with your sensitive clit, his tongue pressing against it and swirling, sending shocks of pleasure through you, your thigh tensing against his cheek.

“Mm, yes, Jungkook, right there…”

Yoongi pinched and pulled your nipples. You snuck a glance at him, looking up, and realized he was looking down at you. His lips curved upwards to a playful smirk as he noticed your curious gaze. He tugged at your nipples, earning your soft whines.

“You moved down to put less strain on my shoulder?” he murmured fondly.

You nodded quickly, gasping as Jungkook sucked on your clit, causing you to roll your hips into his face. Jungkook grunted, digging his fingers into your ass, spreading you out under him. Fuck, his mouth was so soft and so warm, adding to your heat. Your hands worked into his hair, pressing him into you, his slurping sounds so lewd that your legs were quivering.

His eyes flickered to yours, pupils dilated, nose in your crotch, and, fuck, Jeon Jungkook was just so hot, on his knees and eating you out like a fucking buffet, his tattooed arm curved around you and your right thigh on his left shoulder, pressing against his cheek as your fingers curled in his blond locks, humping his face to add friction. Either Jungkook was inherently good at eating pussy or he had somehow rehearsed this and, considering his profession, you were guessing the former.

The Golden Maknae lived up to his name in appearance and talent.

You didn’t want to lean too much on Yoongi, so you put more of your weight onto Jungkook. He seemed to feel nothing at all, busy clamping his lips down on your clit and sucking harder. You sank your teeth into your lower lip, wail in your throat, squeezing your eyes shut as all of the sensations piled on you at once – Yoongi’s deft fingers playing with your nipples, Jungkook’s scorching mouth and tongue abusing your swollen clit, your hands gripping Jungkook’s soft hair and fucking his handsome face – and it was too much, all too much as your lower lip popped out of your teeth, moaning loudly as your orgasm radiated through you, throbbing waves rippling from your core as you came into Jungkook’s waiting mouth and chin, leaking all over his skin, dripping down his neck. He groaned, vibrating your clit, and you gasped, rutting into his face roughly, pressing your head into Yoongi’s torso.

“Oh, God, fuck, Jungkook, Yoongi…”

You weren’t sure if Jungkook was suffocating or not, but Jungkook himself didn’t seem to give a shit, cleaning you off with his tongue and burying his nose into your pussy, rubbing it against your clit. Your hips bucked at the sensitivity, your leg falling off his shoulder as you sucked in a breath. It forced his mouth to retreat, and you were greeted with the sight of Jungkook’s eyes slowly opening, his nose, lips, and chin covered in your glistening, viscous juices. He made eye contact with you, hand coming up to wipe it off, pink tongue sliding out and licking it from the back of his hand.

“Hah…” Jungkook panted, hungrily sucking up your taste. “That’s my drink of choice.”

You chuckled. “Sorry you can’t get it at a bar.”

Jungkook ticked his head, smirking devilishly. “I can if you’re sitting on the bar, legs spread open for me.”

Damn, what a visual. You straightened with the help of Yoongi, only for his right hand to close around your arm, yanking you to the bed. You started, bouncing slightly as you fell onto the mattress. Jungkook seemed amused, standing up to watch with interest. His blond hair was tousled wildly, messy from you holding onto his head. He smirked, lips dark pink from eating you out, the sharpness of his jawline standing out. But you couldn’t stare at him for long, because Yoongi plunged three fingers into your aching pussy, filling you up suddenly. You yelped, snapping your head to Yoongi’s dark, intense gaze, made darker by his black bangs shadowing his eyes.

“Y-Yoongi!”

He purred your name, giving you a teasing smile, tongue against the side of his pink lips.

“Mhm?”

“W-want…” You gasped as he slowly thrust into you, thumb knuckle rubbing against your inflamed clit, pushing his fingers in, your pussy clenching around them. “Want your cock…”

“Sorry, my love,” he murmured. “Can’t yet. Doctor’s orders.”

You furrowed your brows at him, raising your hips to meet his hand. “I’m beginning you think you’re enjoying denying me.”

Yoongi’s foxy smile implied just that. “What are you talking about?” He leaned down, tongue dancing between his teeth, snickering as you whimpered. “I’m not denying you. That’s why I asked Jungkook to come and stuff his big cock into you.”

You whimpered, biting your lip and snapped your legs closed, eyes rolling back into your head as you came all over his hand, soaking his skin and dripping onto the bed. Yoongi moaned softly as he felt your walls pulse against his fingers.

“Fuck, I love it when I can feel you cum for me.”

You shuddered, muscles tingling with pleasure. Yoongi pulled his fingers out slowly, groaning as he felt you tighten around them, trying to prevent him from leaving. He chuckled, raising an eyebrow.

“Could you help hyung out, Jungkook?”

You shifted your eyes to Jungkook, who suddenly froze, the fly of his black pants wide open, hand down his black boxer briefs. Yoongi noticed your startled expression and turned his head too, both eyebrows raising. Jungkook’s cheeks tinged pink.

“Er…”

“Were you jacking off just now?”

Jungkook’s eyes darted everywhere except Yoongi’s face. “Er…”

“Show me, Jungkook,” you breathed out.

His large doe-like eyes shot to your body to on the bed, legs spreading, Yoongi’s wet fingers hovering over your quivering mound. He stole a glance at Yoongi, who jerked his head towards you.

“She gave you an order.”

“Hyung…” Jungkook whined. “It’s embarrassing…”

Yoongi shrugged, his fingers touching your swollen clit. You jumped, gasping as he rubbed in slow, large circles, stimulating it gently. The sensitive bundle of nerves throbbed against his fingertips, pussy clenching around nothing.

“Y-Yoongi, don’t, I’m t-too sensitive,” you panted, legs threatening to close once more.

“Keep your legs open,” Yoongi said sternly. “Let Jungkookie see.”

You gritted your teeth, hands twisting in the sheets, hips raising to his hand. “I c-can’t… You’re too good, Yoongi…” You had to lock your knees to prevent them from collapsing inwards, feeling him build his speed, eyes fluttering closed as you moaned once more, feeling the pleasure flood throughout, wetter and wetter, your slit opening and closing. You felt Yoongi lean down, his black hair against your cheek. Oh, fuck. His pine-scented cologne. Sex. Yoongi. You resisted the urge to grab his head and fiercely make out with him. He wasn’t fully recovered yet. His voice was that low, raspy drawl, arousing you just as much as his fingers rubbing your clit.

“Open your eyes and see what you’ve done to poor Jungkook.”

You opened your eyes to see Jungkook was closer now, right next to the bed, pants and underwear around his knees as he pumped his cock right next to you, eyes fixated on Yoongi’s fingers and your sopping wet pussy, his pouty pink lips wet and open, blond hair all over his face. The head of his cock was an angry red, veins popping out along the thick length as he smeared his pre-cum over the tip with his finger, hissing at the sensitivity. He seemed to feel your stare and then your eyes locked.

“Jungkook…”

Breathlessly, his name drifting out of your lips like smoke.

His dark brown orbs were nearly black with how blown-out his pupils were. He gasped your name out, needy and desperate, his chin lifting, hair falling back to reveal his lustful dark eyes as his mouth opened, pink tongue lolling out a little.

“Wanna cum with you,” Jungkook begged. “Tell when you’re close. Please.”

You nodded, sharply cut off as Yoongi assaulted your clit, forearm nearly vibrating as he pushed you to the edge, so close, so close that you had to chomp down on the inside of your cheek to prevent yourself from orgasming right then and there.

“Y-Yoongi, he’s not ready yet…”

Yoongi chuckled. “Oh, I know.”

You whimpered, thighs caving in a little, but Yoongi growled deep in his chest, warning you.

“Don’t close your legs.”

Normally you would fight him, but this situation was different. You wanted to please Yoongi, give him everything he asked for because you knew he couldn’t get everything he wanted. Your core tightened, the pitch of your cries hiking as you tried to hold back, staring at Jungkook’s long fingers wrapped around his thick, stiff cock, black tattoos rippling on tan skin as he chased his climax, watching your legs shake with strain as Yoongi took you to your limits. Your wetness was soaking a puddle into the sheets, the scent of your arousal so strong it seemed to prevail all others.

Fuck, you couldn’t anymore, you just couldn’t.

“J-Jungkook… a-ah, gonna cum soon, fuck, Yoongi, fuck, you’re too fucking good!”

Your last words turned into a wild, guttural moan as you came, hips ramming into Yoongi’s hand, back arching, your orgasm pulling you up taut like a marionette on a string, thighs shaking as your pussy throbbed with release. Your juices dripped down like honey, splattering over your thighs and down your ass before you abruptly fell, legs crumpling as Yoongi’s hand cupped your hot, trembling mound, his heavy pants mixing with yours. He groaned softly, feeling your puffy pussy lips and clit flinch and jerk as the aftershocks rippled through your nerves.

Jungkook whined deep in his throat, splattering his cum all over your leg and on the sheets, hot thick strings that made you shudder as it covered your skin. He pumped it all out, emptying it on you. Surely, you couldn’t muster the strength to take a dick right now. But one look at Jungkook and his hand still gripping his cock, slowly, delicately stroking it once more, staring at the mess that both of you made, sweat beaded on his forehead.

Yeah, no, you definitely wanted it in you.

“Jungkook…”

He raised his head, ash blond strands soaked with sweat, wispy around his eyes.

“Want your cock.”

He smirked. “What do you say?”

Now. You resisted the urge to be a smartass. There were other ways.

“Let noona’s wet, tight pussy take care of you,” you purred.

The dominant spark in Jungkook’s eyes flitted away, replaced by his submissive doe eyes, his desire, his desperation. Fuck, it was so fun seeing that, the duality, reminding you so much of Yoongi and his softness juxtaposed with his sarcasm. Yoongi removed his hand, moving to the nightstand and grabbing a towel, reaching over to wipe Jungkook’s cum off you. You sat up, taking the towel from him as you noticed him leaning on his left arm.

“Ah, be careful,” you reprimanded, shooing him away.

Yoongi narrowed his eyes at you. “I’m not broken.”

“You’re not fixed either,” you pouted, cleaning yourself up. You made eye contact with him and he clicked his tongue, nodding. Yoongi was about to move away, but you grabbed a fistful of his sweatpants, pulling him back. He tilted his head, sending you an inquisitive look.

“I shouldn’t do any more,” he murmured. “I can just watch.”

You yanked the side of his pants down and Yoongi arched an eyebrow. Your eyes on his crotch, then back to his face. Your lips parted, tongue flickering out. He could put two and two together.

“You can do some things without moving.”

His gaze sharpened. “I’m going to want to fuck your face.”

Your lips curved into a smirk. “Well, you can’t. You’ll have to sit there and take it like a good boy.” You removed your hand and patted the pillows, grinning. “I want to get spit roasted.”

Yoongi sucked in a tight breath, eyebrow twitching.

“It’s not really a spit roast unless you’re the passive one,” Yoongi tried to argue as he tugged his pants down, getting onto the bed. You scooted down, feeling a hard, firm body come up behind you, hands sliding up your waist to cup you breasts. You moaned softly, pressing your ass against Jungkook’s leaking cock, feeling it throb against your skin.

“Need a condom, hyung,” Jungkook panted, exhaling in satisfaction as his fingers ran over your nipples, earning pleading gasps.

Yoongi reached over to grab one as you reached back, running your hand over Jungkook’s semi-hard length, spreading the pre-cum down the head. Your fingertip touched the slit and he shivered, whining against your neck.

“Noona, don’t…”

You took the condom from Yoongi with your free hand, wrapping your fingers around Jungkook’s cock as he moaned, tugging at your nipples repeatedly. Your hips jerked involuntarily, skin rubbing against the sensitive head, making him groan.

“Need you hard for me.”

You stroked him slowly, not too tight, not too loose, his warm cock throbbing in your hand. You felt one of Jungkook’s hands leave your chest, gripping your hand tightly around his cock. His cock swelled at the sudden stop, pressing against your palm. His lips touched your ear and you shivered at his voice, low and dangerous, almost feral.

“Oh, I’ll be hard,” Jungkook snarled softly. “Impossible not to be hard…” His other hand dropped, snaking down your stomach. You tensed up as he neared closer and closer. Yoongi cleared his throat and your head snapped up to see him tilting his head, observing closely with an amused smirk.

“Jungkook, d-don’t…”

“… In this pussy.”

And you moaned loudly, feeling two of his fingers slip down and spread your pussy lips, engorged clit poking out from your repeated orgasms. Even the small stimulation made you wetter, drenching the inside of your thighs as Yoongi’s hungry eyes watched Jungkook spread you open for him to see.

“Spread your legs for hyung,” Jungkook ordered, nipping at your earlobe.

You whined, opening your thighs and tipping them up for Yoongi to see your glistening, pink pussy lips forced open by Jungkook’s fingers, your walls pulsing with need. Your hand was still around Jungkook’s cock, holding his hardness as you watching Yoongi’s right hand enclose his already stiff length, licking his lips at this dirty display.

“Flick her clit, Jungkook.”

You cried out, hips bucking as Jungkook flicked your clit with his nail, releasing his cock and falling onto your hands, staring into Yoongi’s mischievous, triumphant eyes. The condom fluttered to the bed, dropped by the sudden shock of painful ecstasy.

“P-Please…” Too many orgasms, too much pleasure. It was turning you into a mess, taking over you, leaving you at the mercy of the two men, crawling towards Yoongi, ass up in the air as you went low, looking up at him, pleading him. “Need you in my mouth, Yoongi. Wanna make you feel good.”

Yoongi removed his hand, ticking his chin to Jungkook. “Ask him to shove his dick into you.”

You bit your lip, turning back and wiggling your ass, seeing Jungkook roll the condom down. His eyes on yours, sending shivers down your spine with his intense gaze and naughty smirk.

“Jungkook.” Even his name from your lips seemed to darken his chocolate orbs with lust. “Want your cock to fill me up.”

“That’s too nice,” Yoongi chided.

Your ears burned. But, well, desperate times call for desperate measures.

“Jungkook, please, please use my pussy to cum, fuck, want you inside me so fucking bad.”

He groaned, sliding up to you, gripping your hips, pressing his fingers into your ass, positioning himself right at your entrance.

“You sound so fucking sexy begging for cock,” he purred. “I just have to give it to you.”

And then he plunged into you, both of you moaning so loudly that the soundproof walls were saving you once again, so wet that your pussy squelched around his thick cock. Ah, he just felt so good, so hard and unforgiving, stretching you out forcefully. You turned back to Yoongi, lowering your head as he spread his legs for you, lifting his shirt as you swallowed his cock, eyelids fluttering as his taste was on your lips once again, invading your mouth, familiar and wonderful. You saw Yoongi moan watching you, cat-like eyes shrouded with lust, biting his lip as you sank down, vibrating his cock with your cries as Jungkook’s length fully entered you, his balls hitting your over-stimulated clit.

So full.

Oh, fuck.

You tried to say Yoongi’s name around his cock, hoping your eyes could tell him what you meant. I missed this so fucking much. His perfect length filling your mouth, smelling so good and so him, burying itself in your throat.

“Fuck,” Yoongi breathed. “Fuck, you look so fucking beautiful taking two cocks at once.”

Jungkook slid out a little and thrust into you. You whimpered around Yoongi, staring into his eyes, tightening your throat muscles as you opened your lips, tongue unfurling down, down.

“Yes, fuck, yes,” Yoongi hissed, tipping his head back as he felt your tongue on his balls, his stiff cock throbbing as you rubbed it against the roof of your mouth, slapping his balls with your tongue at the same time, warm saliva dripping down and coating them. “Yes, fuck, you’re so good at that, fuck, I love you so fucking much, a-ah…”

And now Jungkook was really fucking you, hard, deep thrusts that shoved you repeatedly onto Yoongi’s cock. You had to retreat your head a little to prevent yourself from choking, but you didn’t stop licking Yoongi’s balls, his handsome face painted with pleasure, murmuring your name, praising you. You swiped your tongue from his balls to the tip of his member, teasing the sensitive skin underneath the head expertly before sliding back down. Up and down, stroking him with your tongue. Yoongi groaned, hips rising into your throat. Fuck, you loved seeing his normally serious face completely consumed by lust, loved the way he lost himself to you.

And, oh fuck, you loved the how you felt as your pussy was assaulted by Jungkook’s cock, stretching you out, pressing against your walls, filling you up as you squeezed him back, massaging all of him as he descended.

“Your pussy is so tight,” Jungkook panted. “Fuck, so tight and so wet, I love it so much, I love fucking you noona, you’re just so fucking good at taking cock.”

You withdrew your tongue from Yoongi’s balls, encasing your lips around his length and sucking hard, creating a tight, wet vacuum, Jungkook’s hips slapping against yours adding to your motion. Yoongi gasped, spreading his fingers on the bed, head pressed into the headboard. His dark eyes were half-lidded, watching your ass bounce as Jungkook fucked you onto his cock, forcing you to swallow him at a quick, rough pace.

“Fuck, I knew it would be good,” Yoongi breathed, gaze shifting to you and your eyes looking up at him, witnessing his satisfied expression. “Look at you. So fucking perfect, lips wrapped around my cock, Jungkook’s dick squeezed by your pretty pussy.” It made you wetter, knowing Yoongi was liking this, knowing he was aroused seeing you like this. His hand came up and tucked your hair back, fingertips brushing against your forehead. His touch made you whine, encouraging you to fuck Jungkook back eagerly, ass slapping into his crotch, bobbing your head up and down faster, tighter.

And Yoongi’s eyes on you, telling you everything. I want you, I need you, I love you.

I love you.

I’ll give you anything I can, because I can’t give you everything.

And Jungkook’s cock was twitching in your pussy, indicating he was close, his husky moans filling up the room as Yoongi’s own breathing shallowed, drinking in every detail, not wanting to miss any moment of you getting fucked so carnally, sinfully full from front to back, whole body shaking from the previous multiple orgasms. You could tell that he wanted you to feel so much pleasure that you were wrecked and it was working, oh, fuck, it was working as pleasure crawled to every fiber of your being, forgetting that your jaw and pussy were aching, forgetting your knees were basically jelly, forgetting you had any other responsibilities in life except making Yoongi and Jungkook cum with your tight, wet holes, so fueled by adrenaline that you rocked your body back and forth, stimulating both at once.

Your eyes locked with Yoongi’s.

Cum for me.

“I’m close,” he murmured. “Tighter. Choke Jungkook’s cock with your perfect pussy.”

You hollowed your cheeks and squeezed your core. You heard Jungkook yelp, fingertips digging into your ass.

“A-ah, c-can’t hold on…” Jungkook rambled, eyes rolling back, gasping for breath. “You’re so lucky, hyung, fuck, so lucky she’s yours.”

Jungkook smacked his hips into you, once, twice, letting out a deep groan as he came, shooting into you, cock throbbing against your walls as his balls slapped your clit, sending you over the edge as you whined around Yoongi’s cock, feeling it jerk in your mouth as he came down your throat, thick, delicious saltiness sliding down, pooling on your tongue, your pussy pulsing in time with Yoongi, drinking him as your pussy shivered around Jungkook’s cock, milking him dry. Your body shuddered hard, trembling from head to toe, the ferocity of your orgasm rattling you, so much so that it felt like the world was spinning. You popped your mouth off of Yoongi’s cock, sliding down against his thigh, wheezing for oxygen.

Yoongi’s hand instantly came up to touch your shoulder, caressing it tenderly. “Are you okay?”

You nodded, hot breath against his skin, knees sliding down, taking Jungkook with you because he also was at the point of exhaustion. Yoongi frowned at you and you gave him a weak thumbs up, cheekily grinning at him, wiping the spit off your chin with his thigh.

Yoongi narrowed his eyes. “Don’t you thumbs-up me, woman, tell me you’re not dying.”

You leaned against his thigh, sighing as Jungkook pulled out of you.

“I’m very pleased,” you exhaled happily.

“I’m glad the god is satisfied with her sacrifice,” Yoongi remarked dryly, trying to sound annoyed but his affectionate smile gave him away. You smiled back before turning around, finding Jungkook on his back, chest heaving, hair soaked with sweat. You scooted down to him, brushing ash blond strands away from his face. His eyes were closed, pretty lashes against his skin, cheeks flushed pink with exertion.

“I… I can go…” Jungkook mumbled. “Give you guys some alone time and stuff.”

“Jungkook.”

His opened his eyes, brown orbs shifting to you. Apologetic, kind.

“Do you want this to be more?”

His lips curved into a smile. It didn’t quite reach his eyes. “No. This is fine.”

“Don’t lie to her,” Yoongi scolded, moving to sit beside you and glare down at him.

Jungkook swallowed, looking away. “I don’t… I don’t want to be a burden, hyung. I don’t want to ruin your relationship.”

“Don’t you think you would have done that already if that was possible?” Yoongi scoffed, placing his hand on yours, rubbing your knuckles.

Jungkook eyes flickered to your joined hands, then to your face.

“R-Really…?”

You exchanged a glance with Yoongi and he poked your forehead, exasperated.

“Have I not maybe yourself clear with you?” Yoongi grumbled grumpily. His eyes shifted down, letting out a long sigh. “I can’t give you everything. I can’t go on dates. I can’t kiss you in public. I can’t even hold your hand or stand near you outside this fucking door.” The frustration was clear in his voice. You wanted to wrap your arms around him and tell him it was okay, but you resisted, letting him get his words out. He turned to Jungkook, his dark brown eyes serious and sad.

“You can’t do that either, you know? It’s lonely. It sucks. You can only have moments like these, behind closed doors.”

Jungkook looked up at him, expression unreadable.

“Then why… why did you share it with me?”

“Because,” Yoongi started, eyes flickering to you. “Because I wanted to make her happy. Because I can’t do everything, but I can do some things. And because Bangtan is everything to me.” Yoongi was mumbling a little, not used to this level of emotion. “If I can maybe make you happy too, Jungkook, why wouldn’t I try?”

You could see Jungkook was also awkward because this was a delicate situation with even more complicated emotions, made more complex that they were two members of the same idol group, almost like brothers in closeness, held to the same rules and the same restrictions. Jungkook blinked rapidly, clearing his watering eyes. He looked away, hastily rubbing them with the back of his hand.

“Will it… Will it be less lonely if I’m with you, hyung, noona?” The younger man swallowed hard, clearing his vision and looking back up at both of you, brown eyes glassy. “Will it… suck less?”

You smiled, nodding slowly. “It would suck a whole lot less.”

Yoongi made a noise of affirmation, scrunching his nose. He was also blinking quite a bit, although he hid it better than Jungkook did.

Jungkook slid his right hand on the sheets, in front of your joined hands. Yoongi’s eyes darted about before he inhaled deeply, picking up your hand and plopping it on Jungkook’s, sandwiching it between the two larger palms. You pressed your fingertips against Jungkook’s knuckles, feeling Yoongi’s reassuring pat on the back of your hand, warmed from above and below.

Yoongi gave you his usual, apprehensive smile, as if he didn’t know what to do with his face when being told to look happy.

Jungkook grinned, bright bunny teeth flashing, eyes and nose scrunching with affection.

You couldn’t resist.

“Is this allowed?” you asked with a wide smirk.

Yoongi laughed, raspy and pretty.

“Definitely not.”

Jungkook sat up a bit, furrowing his brow as if he just remembered something.

“Wait, what about noona’s private Instagram tho–”

part iv “That's not allowed! You know what that does to me.“

masterpost

#yoongi x reader #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #yoongi smut #yoonkook x reader #yoonkook smut #suga x reader #min yoongi smut #jeon jungkook smut #yoongi x you #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x you #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you #bts smut #suga x you

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stupid-sloot-headcanons · 2 years

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So confession time, I had a childhood crush on Salad Fingers

Something about this creepy horrific disturbed being that's somehow so earnest and weirdly wholesome at times...while also being very unpredictable and nonsensical in how/why/what they do. You're always a little on edge yk

#thots

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derangedhyena-delphinidae · 3 years

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numerous issues with “The Aftermath of Seaworld”

When I get time to do so (aka when I’m done with the documentary), I’m likely going to make a video version of this going into the details.

But for right now, I’ve made this. Both as a guideline for me and so everyone can begin to get an idea of the severity of issues involved.

Researching things is time-consuming and can be very difficult - believe me, I know. But I’m of the mind that if you’re making content with the intent of educating people, you have a responsibility to perform a certain level of due diligence. It IS okay to express uncertainty or doubt if you have it. It is NOT okay to confidently assert things that you do not know with certainty.

The video has an anticap slant, and I’m obviously not disagreeing on that front. But again: if you’re gonna go through the trouble of teaching people something. Bare minimum... please make sure it’s actually correct. *** 1) x ‘founded in 1964 and based out of Florida’ - ???? Seaworld definitively began on the west coast, in San Diego, CA. And given that the first park opened in early 1964… things came together before that. Uh? 2) x ‘four people founded Seaworld [...]’ For one… it wasn’t originally conceived as a restaurant, it was originally conceived as an underwater bar/lounge. Two… calling the four guys involved in founding the place “frat brothers” is fucking ridiculous and completely overlooks a) how each was actually involved and b) the overall significance of their contributions to the field as individuals. Hint: like it or not, they were important and did a lot!

3) x If one is going to bring up SWBGCF/rescues while talking about the literal founding of SW, it gives the impression that it’s been around for that duration. It hasn’t. It’s actually a bit unclear when SW started an organized rescue program, but the Fund itself and all that it did came about much later. The rescue information and how it’s presented is actually INCREDIBLY complex, nuanced, and has a fascinating history (from a “bad company behaving badly” perspective). Oversimplifying this, to this degree and in this misinformative way, does the facts of the situation an INCREDIBLE disservice.

4) x [assertive statement about what the name Shamu means] ….Uh actually there’s several explanations for the name Shamu, and the most likely one IMO seems to be the “she-namu” one, not the “friend of Namu” one(? What is this even based on.) 4b) It’s not quite clear if she’s saying “Namu was the first ever orca to be displayed and perform shows” or or Namu was the first to be displayed and, like Shamu, performed shows. Either way, Moby Doll was the first to truly be displayed to the public, not Namu.

5) x ‘Namu died after one year in captivity and you’d think that this might deter Seaworld from doing the same thing again…’ Seaworld truly had nothing to do with Namu. And they leased/took possession of Shamu before Namu died. ‘Again’? What?

6) x “Now, PETA paints a pretty disturbing picture…” [while showing Okura’s artwork] This video segment is, and this is putting it nicely, a pile of poorly-researched BULLSHIT. -Yes, PETA talks about Shamu’s capture, re: the harpooning of her mother. This Youtuber cannot apparently be arsed to look more than 1 Google search into this, as she proceeds to dismiss the information as potentially fabricated. There are two detailed accounts of Shamu’s capture that I’m aware of - in books - and though they have some slight conflicts, it’s absolutely NOT in doubt that the female who was very likely Shamu’s mother was 1) harpooned, 2) died from her injuries and 3) this had been done to make her easier to catch/locate because there was a fucking buoy attached to the harpoon. Which she dragged around for at least 24 hours prior dying. So maybe don’t dismiss that as PETA hysteria, maybe TRY to determine the truth of the matter, which would inform one that it is both true and completely horrifying. -In addition, Okura is an awesome individual who has worked very hard to create a variety of informative artwork for our cause. Okura is NOT associated with PETA and it’s borderline libel in my eyes to use their artwork in this dismissive manner when the primary sources of it can be easily identified online, with full explanations and everything. Do I take special offense to this because of the misuse of artwork? Absolutely. Artists get disrespected enough online. I’m tired of it. This kind of laziness IS NOT acceptable.

7) x ‘timeline is fuzzy about when Shamu died’ …………… it’s…. It’s really not … newspapers are pretty clear about it…..

8) x [complete and utter oversimplification of the lifespan issue, which is not acceptable for anything published in 2020. It just isn’t. If you’re going to bring it up like this, either do the legwork and get into the weeds or stay out.] 8b) [same for reproductive ages. sigh]

9) x if we’re going to talk about when Cornell was involved with Seaworld it’s very important to specify when Cornell was involved with Seaworld and not make it seem like it’s present tense.

10) x “both were rescued by Seaworld” - uh? no. Zero orcas have been rescued by Seaworld. Literally none. The infected-jaw orca was Sandy, whose story is complex and certainly does not involve Seaworld until much later. And many of the orcas in that time period had bullet wounds, often only identified post-mortem because they didn’t seem to hurt the animals much. Also, unflinchingly blending 70s captivity ethics with modern ones is also complete nonsense?

11) x [tilikum coming from sealand] inhales I am going to make an entire video centered on this fucking subject because it’s one of the single most profound arguments for Seaworld being garbage as assessed by US government agencies in the 90s yet everyone utterly fails to mention this. Why?!

12) x what on earth is this nonsense re: quoting a quote from Zimmerman’s article - which has already been removed from its original context, so the original context is not available - and then penalizing the quote for existing as if Zimmerman’s article were the context? That is offensively disingenuous. I honestly don’t know what the original context is, either - but it’s wildly inappropriate to act as if the Zimmerman article is.

13) x this is relatively minor but ‘Paul Sprong’? You literally have his name on the screen. And then mis-reading his age too? While asserting it from a static article published years ago? Effort? Where is it?

14) x ‘another trainer, Peter’ ….. Ken Peters….

15) [weirdly glossing over the widely-available list of orca-trainer injuries/aggressions, despite it being central to the point.] 16) x This pilot whale outrage certainly happened but it was pretty clearly Blackfish that started the cascade of woes for Seaworld. Who has ever asserted this?

17) if you’re gonna just rehash blackfish, tell people to go watch blackfish.

18) x I’ve already gone over the context issue with Seaworld calling out Howard’s statement in Blackfish here (point 23). Which is to say, IN CONTEXT in Blackfish it’s clear what Mr. Garrett is talking about but, divorced from that, it sounds incorrect. But this Youtuber AMPLIFIES the issue by doubling down on the assertion with “no record of a killer whale doing any harm to anyone in the wild.” The surfer event should always be mentioned. Yes, there’s absolutely room for doubt. But there’s also a clear demarcation between an accidental attack (eg mistaken identity, as was likely for the surfer) and intentional one (eg the incidents at marine parks.) Why do people kneecap themselves on this point 18b) please stop acting like Luna represents orcas in general.

19) x “Howard, for all of his research…” … while referring to David Duffus’ b-roll and statements. Uh. 20) x Apparently this Youtuber has single-handedly resolved the dorsal fin issue. You know, the thing that hasn’t been properly researched ever, that has been subject to a ton of debate, that isn’t 100% settled for a variety of reasons, and almost everyone talks about in terms of theories and likely possibilities. 21) x Alexis Martinez wasn’t “torn to shreds.” In a space where even moderate exaggerations are often penalized harshly by the opposition, this kind of blatant nonsense is not welcome. Plus, the reality’s bad enough… you don’t have to make anything up!

22) x *sighs. points at own webpage*

23) Talking about the shows stopping without acknowledging how that’s a bit of a farce is something else. In addition to apparently just flipping to buying what Seaworld’s selling re: its ‘improved image.’

*** Tl;dr video is so unrelentingly full of errors ranging from small to egregious it makes me seriously concerned for the veracity of the rest of this person’s content. The maker of the video provided a list of their sources in their video description, which I will have time to look through in detail later. The above is solely a response to the information they present IN THE VIDEO - which, is very important because let’s be real: a lot of people are not going to look at the list of sources. People don’t even do it when citing papers (no really, you’d be surprised, fml.) For anyone who wants to whinge that I haven’t linked or asserted any sources of my own for my claims… well, remember what I said about time-consuming and ‘I’m busy’? Yhea. Getting all of that together will be part of making a video. So if you want to shrug loudly at my list here… you can, that’s your prerogative, I’m happy to say I DGAF if that’s your takeaway.

What I hope, is that if there’s anything I’ve made clear over the While of running this blog, it’s that I don’t fuck around when it comes to sources and information and do my best to provide what information exists, all of it, not just cherrypicked bits and bobs. Anyways. Here’s step 0 at least. Please don’t share that video. Pretty please.

#seaworld #grumble

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snapeaddict · 3 years

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Hi, what do you say to the people who claim Regulus is the real Slytherin hero, and not Snape? To me RAB always seemed like a plot device and nothing more so I don't get why he's being worshipped... He's just another rich pureblood kid...

I say this is a very bad take, and it is disrespectful (that's a strong word for something that isn't really important but I cannot think of a softer version) of the actual people who enjoy his character. I'm going to write down some thoughts, but there's more to it than just what I would reply to them - allow me to ramble a little on the roots of this claim and on the thought process embraced by Snaters and Marauders apologists (I've seen that some people don't like this term, so I mean people who erase the Marauders' flaws and make them morally superior to Snape, justifying them being abusers and him being abused.)

The nonsense of comparing a plot device to a complex, layered character: Comparing Severus and Regulus is ludicrous. You are comparing one of the most (I would argue the most well-written and complex, but Dumbledore is quite something as well) well-written, accomplished character of the books to a plot device. It is indeed what Regulus is, no matter if his character could have been really interesting/seems to be interesting: we know very little of him, and he exists solely for the Slytherin locket plot. The very little we know of him certainly isn't enough to express any critical judgment of his character; he is mostly made out of white pages which are filled out by his fans, which is great, and by the people making this kind of argument, which is unfortunate.

The interest in the character only stems in his usefulness: I would argue that the vast majority of people making this claim do not care at all for the character himself, despite using him as a moral high ground. It is not his character which interests them, but how useful he can be to fuel their hate and biased claims. His personality? Having being sorted in Slytherin. His merits? Being a Slytherin. This is the only fact that matters, because it allows them to 'prove' that Snape wasn't a hero (being a hero does not mean being a good person, by the way) and diminishes Severus' merits. Using a character solely for the purpose of depreciating, downgrading another is not appreciating them: it's just completely hypocritical. This is often the kind of flat argument used by people opposed to social justice movements, if you will allow the broad comparison: using something you have never cared for before (often minority populations) in an attempt to depreciate something, even though the very fact you are using them for this purpose shows how little concerned you are with the actual people you are talking about. Well, it reminds me of this a bit. The true purpose is to try and impose your own views, and here they try to legitimise them by filling an almost inexistent character with their views to carry on with their agenda.

The sudden leniency toward privileged characters: Making such a claim in fact once again proves that Snaters have an extremely biased, subjective and elitist vision of what being good means, an opinion on what is moral integrity (and superiority because they keep comparing people), which they also apply to James and Sirius. I think Regulus is loved because he is a Black, respected by the fandom because he comes from a pureblood, rich family. It is very easy to prove: look at how much love Draco and Lucius get, despite being supporters of blood supremacy, active members of a terrorist group, using discriminatory insults on a daily basis, being actively supportive of the murders of muggle borns/participating in these murders [do not misinterpret this - I'm pointing out double standards, not saying they should not be loved. One's interest in a character does not depend on the character's morals]. Look at how respected Snape was in the fandom before book 6, when people thought he was a rich pureblood from an ancient family. Social hierarchy has a great impact on how people view characters, and they tend to be much more lenient toward privileged characters, because prestige is attractive, even in fiction. Similarly - but it is more concealed - there is the usual refusal to acknowledge that social inequalities do impact one's life, choices, and opportunities to be or do good. The quote "You didn't make good choices! You had good choices" (Little Fires Everywhere) works quite well in this context, especially regarding James and Severus, but also regarding the Blacks versus Severus. Severus' survival was completely, utterly dependent on his adherence to blood supremacist values. This must be taken into account - but weirdly, this is an argument that is often used to prove Sirius' moral superiority, because his family required him to share their beliefs. This is ignoring that despite his difficulties, he still beneficiated from a support system and privileges that others did not have access to. Similarly, you cannot compare Regulus' and Severus' choices. And in my opinion, both are tragic; but if we had to take part in Snaters' silly arguments, then I would remind them that Regulus effectively had no obligation to join Voldemort, his parents were not death eaters. The pressure both characters experienced certainly wasn't of the same nature - even perhaps not of the same intensity. But does comparing them makes any sense, again...

The social biases: While Snape is blamed for his decision to join the death Eaters (rightly), Regulus is praised for his decision to leave them. While Regulus is pitied because he came from a family who brought him up with this ideology (just like Draco is), which apparently takes off all responsibility from him, Severus' background is never considered as a factor which pushed him right into extremists' opened arms. Regulus' privilege is used as an excuse; Snape's social disadvantage and familial issues are, at best, ignored, at worst, interpreted as proof of his inherently bad nature. Some people associate his upbringing with him being bad, whether they want to acknowledge it or not. While Regulus is headcanonned as handsome, Snape is constantly described as 'greasy' and 'ugly' by these same people, and you can see exactly how important appearances are to them. I'm even going to argue that worshipping a rich, handsome, privileged pureblood must sound better to them than being fond of the 'greasy git', and I am also saying these are mostly internalised biases. When you read these claims carefully, it sounds like in the mind of these people, Regulus is more legitimate as Slytherin's hero because he is better - inherently. And it is easy to see why.

The double-standards and their disturbing roots: This is also plainly ignoring the fact that Regulus and Snape defected for the same reasons, if we must make comparisons. Voldemort was targeting one of their loved ones, Kreatur for the former and Lily for the later, which made them realise, because they are humans and thus not selfless, how wrong his methods were when they turned against them. However, in Snape's case, turning against Voldemort in an attempt to save Lily is often held as proof of his selfishness/absence of morality: he wanted her for himself, he only deflected because someone he liked was in danger. In Regulus' case however, his gesture is seen as heroic and compassionate. Why? Well, there are a variety of reasons apart from Snaters' double standards, but I have noticed that most of them seem to think of Lily as 'belonging' to either James or Snape, and think Snape unworthy of having ever had Lily as a friend because of some kind of deep rooted flaws he had even as a child ('He tried to hurt Petunia with accidental magic when he was 11, he was always bad'. In fact I should make a post about how horrible this claim is.) In Regulus' case however, wanting to save Kreatur is seen as an act of compassion. Why? Not only because they want to make Regulus look better than Snape. I think it is also because Kreatur is a house-elf, an inferior being: Regulus' wish to protect him becomes praiseworthy, laudable, because house-elves do not really deserve consideration. So wanting to save him becomes an act of generosity. Even when you're not thinking of the double standards, this way of thinking is disturbing. Snape also turned against Voldemort at the age of 20, 21? Like Regulus did if I recall? They weren't death Eaters for very long. They both actively fought to bring Voldemort down. It would be tremendously hypocritical, wrong and plain bad faith to think of Regulus' action as superior to Snape's 20 years of hard work to bring Voldemort down.

So why can't Snape be a hero? I think this claim is a confession. To me it shows a very simplistic vision of heroism, of good and bad, of models, and a complete refusal to consider the grey, sometimes praise the grey- it's a failure to accept the complexity of the human functioning. Thinking that the people we praise for certain actions, or consider to be examples must be flawless is vain, simply because it is unrealistic, and we could not admire them/relate to them/like or dislike them/learn from them if they were not like us, layered and flawed - but this is exactly what this claim desperately wants us to believe. Or rather, what Snaters want to believe, while imposing their very biased views of good and bad, themselves rooted in prejudices. This is why they are using a character that is mostly inexistent: an empty, one dimensional character can fulfil this aim. This is also why so many people fail to appreciate characters such as James, Sirius and Remus without completely ripping off their flaws, and thus complexness - they cannot be loved if you can find fault in them.

#I think this ask is from July 2020 or something #I'm so sorry anon #Forgive me #Thoughts #My opinion #Meta #Regulus black #Severus Snape #Pro Snape

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onyourzeus · 3 years

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all alone | kyh

ykcyj ➝ arskyh

title: all alone pairing: kang younghyun (youngk of day6) & you genre: heavy angst, fictional universe words: 3.7k

inspired by: 50 proof by eaJ (give it a listen if you please, here) author’s note: this is my first fic in years, feedback appreciated.

content warning: alcohol use, swearing, description of anxiety and loneliness

any requests? check my pinned post if i’m accepting any at the moment, thanks!

It’s not a matter of when, but of how you’re going to stop yourself. They keep saying it heals with time, but no one ever tells you how much time you need to feel completely fine again.

So, instead of waiting for that moment, you take it upon yourself to numb the pain inside. It’s easier to keep it bottled up, then pretend to wash it away with age-old whiskey taken from a nearly empty cabinet.

Your friend reminded you to buy anything other than 50 proof alcohol, but that’s what’s left on your grocery list nowadays.

She’d come by to keep you company, but there’s always an excuse. An emergency meeting, a family gathering, a blind date across town.

It’s okay, you text her repeatedly. At this point, you’d rather she focus on herself than judge you for decisions affecting your life.

The moment they get angry at you, it is time to push them away.

You’re not about to be the reason for another falling out; another heartbreak; another memory turned sour and hard to swallow.

A big gulp of fiery hot liquid comes into contact with your throat, and you exhale with a wince. Ah, just the way you think you like it.

But no one’s stopping you, so why not keep going? You haven’t reached your limit yet, even though you’re not sure what that would look like. It’s no matter, though, it’s your apartment— your bathroom floor, your money, and your own fate decided.

Once the tears trail down your cheek, you have a moment of self-awareness. What are you doing? Glancing at your slippers, sweaty oversized shirt, and frizzy strands of hair sticking out of your head— when exactly did you start looking like this and decided, “Yeah, I feel comfortable in my own skin.”?

You dart your tongue out slightly, tasting salt on the corner of your mouth. It’s wet as the tears keep coming. Tonight’s one of those nights, you laugh sarcastically.

You’re probably going to play russian roulette with your medicine cabinet tomorrow; you’ll either be lucky and find a couple of painkillers lying around or be reminded of the emptiness that surrounds you. Usually it’s the latter, but maybe you’ll be lucky this time?

You scoff loudly at the idea. Another gulp of alcohol, and it stops the tears momentarily. Just so you can indulge in the sound of your heavy breathing, vision blurring the sight of your kitchen.

Your phone lights up on the couch, buzzing and emitting a soft light that disturbs the dimness of the room. It can’t be your friend, it was a double date night with her co-worker, or some shit you don’t really care for. Although you remember pieces of memories that include you being in the same exact situation a few months prior; it’s a bit hazy now, probably due to the alcohol.

But also because you use what coordinated strength you have to approach the ringing sound. You can’t make up the caller ID which should be the first red flag that you shouldn’t answer the phone.

You never do when you’re like this, but something inside you just doesn’t care anymore.

You slide your finger across the screen, fumble through the circles you can make out until a static hum goes off louder than usual. Finally on speaker mode, you put the phone back on the couch as your body drops down on the floor.

Resting the bottle on your side, you cradle your heavy head against the palm of your hand and exhale a long drawn out, “Heyyyyyyy, who’s this?”

God, you sound horrible.

You hear nothing but static, and wonder if there never was a call at all. “Is anyone there? Hello? Hello?” You’re starting to get annoyed, grabbing hold of the bottle’s neck and taking a short swig. It causes you to cough, your fist pounding helplessly against your chest.

“What are you doing?” He sounds sad, disappointed, and concerned on the other end. You don’t know who it is, but the knots in his voice deem familiar to you, somehow.

“Who is this? I’m gonna call the cops on you,” you drawl out, not understanding your own logic. “Why are you calling me at—” you try and check for a watch on your wrist to no avail, so you leave the question at that.

Hiccuping, you blurt out, “I don’t know who you are.”

“It’s Younghyun. Leehi keeps calling me, asking to check up on you. Did you receive her messages?”

Frankly, you understood at least two words with his reply. Leehi and messages, immediately you seethe with anger once again. Your friend on the double date texted you? With droopy eyes, you check your notifications, and the caller is telling the truth.

10 text messages left unread, and none of those words she sent mean shit.

“Tell her to fuck off.”

“I won’t do that. Where are you? At the bar or in your apartment?” He keeps asking all these questions he doesn’t have the right to in the first place. You feel your face scrunch up in frustration, figuring out who’s so concerned at your well-being so randomly on a Thursday night.

“I’m not telling you anything. I don’t know you! Please stop bothering me, sir,” your voice cracks in the end, a semblance of fear creeping up onto you. This is why you never answer calls with alcohol controlling your system.

“It sounds quiet in there, so you’re in your apartment,” he continues, ignoring your nonsensical pleas. “I’m nearby, can you please stay put for another 20 minutes or so? I’m coming to check up on you.”

“I told you I’m calling the police if you even come near my doorstep!” Your frantic tone causes your body to shiver, welled up tears leaving eyes that start to sting.

No one has been at your apartment for months; it’s not that they don’t ask. You don’t want them to come in. You don’t want anyone to see how you’ve been when you’re all alone.

He calls your name on the other end, and again, and again he whispers it like a gentle reminder. A song to soothe your anxious mind, and it works. For a moment, you remember the feeling of comfort and security in the form of arms wrapped around you, and this very same voice to calm you down.

“It’s Younghyun, okay? Please take deep breaths, you’re okay. You’ll be okay. I’m on my way very soon,” Younghyun instructs. His hushed voice contrasts your shaking whimpers, yet you follow what he says with relative ease. It’s so familiar, fragments of flashbacks filling your mind one after the other.

“Please unlock the door soon so I can come inside. I don’t have a spare key anymore,” he continues. That’s weird, he always had it to access your apartment whenever he wanted. You were the one to insist on that, too, since he basically lived with you for… a while.

Reality tries to get in the way of the memories, you block it off for just a little bit more with the last drop of alcohol. It should last you throughout the night.

In a daze, you do what Younghyun told you: unlock the door, and take deep breaths. You don’t want to be completely sober, so you refrain from drinking water even if your throat has been begging you to.

A lucky soju bottle hides itself from an empty carton of milk inside the fridge, so you grab it hastily. No shot glasses needed, you go straight for it.

Younghyun didn’t tell you to stop, so why should you? But something in your stomach suggests you do. It’s a wincing pain you’ve had before, but this time it digs deeper than that. A liver concern, dehydration, or perhaps guilt?

You couldn’t think any longer as you heard a soft knock against the front door. Followed by Younghyun coming in quietly, his steps barely audible. As if he’s never set foot in your apartment before. Or at least, maybe it feels different this time.

As if you haven’t seen him and remember his presence anymore.

“Hey,” he greets you quietly, and his voice is so much better in person. “It’s dark in here.”

You’re not sure how to move forward from here. You’re back on the floor, head laying weirdly on the couch that your neck has started to hurt. Your hands hold tight onto the soju bottle as if it’s about to be taken away from you. It’s the one tangible thing keeping you grounded. Your mind begins to float away again upon seeing Younghyun’s face.

He has that effect on you, but you didn’t consider it ever happening in months.

You think you’re sleepy, but really you become hyper aware of his every move. It’s just hard to see with droopy eyes, and the silent steps he takes on the hardwood floor.

He turns the light on the hallway to the bathroom, and even with its faintness you squint at the source of any kind of brightness in the room.

“Sorry, I just didn’t want to step on anything,” Younghyun apologizes. He places a plastic bag on the kitchen counter and takes out what looks to be a bottle.

Definitely not alcohol, you frown.

“No, I’m fine. Thank you,” you tell him first, the croak of your voice so heavily dissimilar to the friendliness of his. Yours sound guarded, unsure of yourself. “I have this,” you add as you sway the soju bottle in the air. The liquid spills on top of your head, and Younghyun is quick to take it away from you.

“H-hey—” you argue, but the cold bottle of water has now replaced your source of alcohol, and your lips continue to curl downard. Younghyun shortly laughs at your reaction, but you don’t find it funny.

“That was mine.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Give it back.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Prick,” you mutter under your breath. “Don’t let it go to waste, then, drink.”

Younghyun sighs, shaking his head while meeting your figure on the floor. The soju bottle remains on the counter, out of your reach. His slanted eyes point towards the neglected bottle around your grasp.

You find yourself staring mindlessly, his face showing smooth textures and a hint of base make up doning his features. You’re in awe, just like before, of the beauty in front of you. So close to touch, just the tip of your fingertips to graze against his skin.

If only you didn’t feel so guilty and looked like shit.

“Staring at me won’t make you sober up any sooner,” he chastises you, sitting with his legs crossed. He looks dapper, a fine suit without a tie and two buttons opened up. Was he at a photoshoot? A company dinner? A date?

That last thought shoots a strange numbing sensation on your chest.

“Why are you here?”

Younghyun looks taken aback at your bluntness. It doesn’t seem like you’re drinking that water anytime soon as your focus shifts at his presence in your apartment. He lets it go this time, then, entertains your question for the sake of your satisfaction.

“I told you. Leehi called me. She’s been worried about you recently.”

“Oh, has she?” You sass him just for the sake of it.

“Yes,” Younghyun doesn’t give in to your bluff, his voice suddenly firm and unnerving. “She cares about you a lot, and I understand if she hasn’t had the time to come see you very often anymore, but she works long hours and—”

“Why are you defending her? Did you just come here to lecture me like a little kid? I know how the world works, Younghyun. I know people can be busy, and that they have their own fucking problems to deal with. I know, okay? Fuck, I know that!”

The words just leave your mouth like poison, it was ready to spill out of your guts all of a sudden. It just needed an opportunity to.

You didn’t expect it to come tonight— in front of Younghyun, out of everyone.

Maybe that would slap him cold and hard with what’s going on. Maybe that’s the final straw with you, not the uninviting welcome to your apartment, not the refusal to drink the water he’s bought you, but the words you have spoken. It’s always been the most hurtful.

You avoid his gaze, suddenly feeling small and even more guilty of how you’re acting. You know you’re not supposed to lash out like this, you hate angry confrontations that can be avoided. But this is why you drink alone, cry alone, and fall asleep when the sun goes up— alone.

Younghyun was never supposed to be here witnessing this.

Just like how you predicted, you see him stand up and walk away. It’s what you deserve, right? No one ever wanted to stay.

But you don’t hear the door slam shut following his departure. You don’t hear his footsteps trudge their way out of the door, out of your life once again.

Younghyun approaches the corner of the living room where the heater is, and turns it on.

“I don’t know how you do it, but I won’t be able to stand the cold like this,” he says with the same gentle, knowing tone of his. “I hope you don’t mind me turning the heat on a little bit. Are you warm, though?”

You don’t understand what’s going on.

Yes, it’s been a chilly autumn season but not that you cared. The alcohol hits you from within, igniting unfound frustration, anger, and desperation in every corner of your soul then almost instantly numbs it all for you.

With parted, dry lips you manage a meek shake of the head. The sweat on your shirt dried up, and your shorts aren’t doing any better making you feel cozy either. You compensate by hugging yourself, the condensation of the bottled water touching the goosebumps on your skin.

“You should probably drink that before it gets lukewarm,” Younghyun suggests, walking three steps forward to sit next to your figure. He gives you space, almost like a shield in between your bodies in which either of you are afraid of breaking.

Finally, you relent to his wish and chug the water in seconds. It cools your throat along with your state of mind. A bit more stable now, with the way you see things, and process your surroundings. Your conscious eyes land on Younghyun’s worried gaze, and you struggle not to fall back into them.

“I’m… not really mad at Leehi, I hope she knows that,” you quip quietly. The haziness drifts away from your consciousness and floats midair. It clings to the barrier in between you and Younghyun, frosting up unseen glass as Younghyun studies your features carefully. And he waits for more of what you have to say.

You don’t follow through anymore, so he adds to the conversation. “I’m sure she knows. She’s just concerned about you.”

You reply with a subtle nod, wishing you had more water to drink.

“I’m worried about you, too.”

And he says the magic words that start the first broken piece of glass stopping you from seeing him eye to eye. You turn your figure away from his sitting one, knowing that the more you attempt to find the answers in his eyes the harsher the tears will come from your own.

“You shouldn’t be. I’m fine.” What a massive fucking lie, you think bitterly. It’s not like you to lie out loud, You say what’s on your mind when needed. And if it isn’t, then you know best not to bother others and keep it to yourself.

“C’mon, we both know that’s not true,” Younghyun disagrees— in the most polite way he can that it hurts. It hurts to hear him pander to your childish behavior right now, to have him tiptoe his way around your insecurities.

This is what you didn’t want to happen, and yet in the end you meet your own demise this way.

“How can I help?” He urges on.

He can’t.

“I want you to feel better.”

You won’t.

“Please tell me how.”

You don’t even know the answer to that.

He sighs, but he tries hard not to let it bother you. Younghyun’s always been like that, so perfect and so accommodating. Wasn’t that supposed to be a sweet gesture from a lover? To know your needs, and meet you in the middle. You basically met a match made in heaven with him years ago.

What went wrong?

“I can’t believe you still have that shirt,” Younghyun points out. He pulls his knees up to his chest, hugging them tight. He’s trying to look so small, innocent.

It’s funny, you think, and recall the nights he convinces you to be the big spoon for once. His sturdy frame was difficult for your arms to gather in one warm embrace, but whenever you tried he never complained. And it was nice.

You try to regain focus, and look down at the shirt you’re wearing. The print has faded so much that anyone who didn’t know its history wouldn’t have guessed what words were imprinted on it originally. But you do, and for a moment you thought you had forgotten— or at least, actively erased from your mind.

But this shirt has always made you feel like you have a sense of connection to this world, to a person you once held in your arms.

“I can’t believe we had Dowoon design that logo before. Nobody really told us how it really looked,” Younghyun chuckles in the night air, temperature going up a few degrees.

It wasn’t hot, you weren’t bothered, it was just… right.

And suddenly, you remember what he’s talking about. Because you were there, and you were this close to dropping the truth onto them that yes, it’s hideous, no one will buy your merch, but the grin on their faces and the spark of excitement in the room was too huge to disrupt. You then convinced yourself that yes, their fans won’t mind, they love you for your music. They love you for you.

You were supposed to love Younghyun for who he is.

“I liked it— eventually,” you admit and Younghyun raises an eyebrow. Defending yourself before he gets a say, you add, “It’s a sort of charm you and the others had. Up and coming in the scene, innocent boys singing their hearts out because you have nothing better to do.”

“Hey now, I was in college with you. I had midterms literally the day after our first official gig,” Younghyun corrects you lightly, and you do remember that. You’re starting to remember it all, like a kaleidoscope of days, weeks, and years through Younghyun’s starry eyes.

You don’t realize the barrier has begun to shatter until you feel the heat of his hands hovering over yours.

“What is it? Tell me, please. Tell me what’s on your mind,” you hear him say repeatedly. He has even moved so much closer to you, his hands grasping yours the way you held the bottle of whisky for nights on end.

He holds you like he cares, like he doesn’t want for you to disappear. For a second time.

“I let you go. I let you go, and now I’m left with nothing but haunted memories of you. Of us,” you sob into him, the sturdiness of his body keeping you from shaking terribly.

Younghyun wraps his arms around you, the way he would when you fell asleep waiting for him late at night on the weekends. Younghyun cradles your fragile figure within his tight embrace, the same way he’d tuck you in bed when fatigue overcomes your system. Even when he’s tired himself, even when he’s on a tightrope of his own priorities— he made you his first.

But you didn’t want that, you knew that wasn’t good for him, his career. The peak of his fame alongside friends he’s known as family for so long would be right around the time you decided to move to a different city and pursue your own passion.

There was no way it’d work. You’d be too far away from their studio, his and his bandmates’ apartment, the company building, everything. Everything Younghyun built from the ground up with his talent, his opportunistic mind, his own purpose in life.

The visits happened less often, the calls coming in at hours you couldn’t accommodate for anymore. People flock to him, and it’s the sort of crowd you flinch at, disassociate yourself with, it’s not who you want to be.

But it was Younghyun’s, and you loved him so much to take that away from him.

And yet, in the place you’ve buried yourself deep; hours away from where you once lived with Younghyun, months after the dreaded decision you falsely stood your ground for. He’s here, with you.

Does he still love you now?

“Don’t think too much right now, okay? You worry your pretty face with all your troubled thoughts like that,” Younghyun reassures you softly. If you had the strength to react to his superfluous words, you’d do so just like before. But exhaustion overcomes you— from the drinking, the sobbing, and the weight of your guilt draping over Younghyun’s shoulders as he embraces you even further.

You don’t deserve such warmth, such tender love, you hurt him. He can’t love you after that.

“I’m sorry—”

“No,” Younghyun shakes his head, ruffling your hair next to his face. He lets you go for half a second, and before you know it his hands are secured around your waist again. You don’t protest, but your eyes seem mesmerized by the way his demand you to see him.

“I’m sorry,” he shares your words, “for not coming sooner.”

The next sunrise doesn’t sting you in the eyes this time. This time, you fall asleep without nightmares accompanying you in bed. And this time, you wake up to what seems like a beloved past of yours. But it’s not, it’s the next day, and Younghyun stayed.

You let him.

#young k scenarios #young k x reader #young k imagines #day6 scenarios #day6 imagines #by:jiae

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miscellaneousramblings · 3 years

Text

The world is cruel and unfair. My thoughts about the end of SnK.

This is a post about my feelings re: the end of SnK. I try to mix a bit of analysis and express where, in my opinion, it went wrong.

I’ve only read the last chapter once for now. Managed to avoid every spoiler until the official release. What can I say? I think this ending is disappointing and unsatisfying, despite not being The Worst Thing I’ve Ever Read. It’s serviceable at best, which by default is underwhelming in a work that has almost always tried to go above what we usually see in comparable pieces of fiction. Over almost 140 chapters, SnK offered its readers genuine emotions, either positive or negative, and, until this final chapter, managed to stay true to its themes. But this final chapter is basically a 4/10 or 5/10 ending in an overall 9.5/10 story.

I hope that, after the initial shock of the ending, I’ll be able to look back on it, not fondly, but with a bit more appreciation for some of its (too few) genuinely good moments. I also hope it won’t sour the experience of reading SnK too much for me. Of course, I accept the ending, I accepted it literally the moment I read it even though I saw it go further and further from my expectations and understanding of the story by the second. And obviously, I respect Isayama as a writer and genuinely cherish some parts of this manga.

But I won’t ever think this ending was good, and am going to try to explain why.

First, something quite subjective. I think the chapter lacked genuine emotion. I didn’t feel much of anything, except a crushing sentiment of sadness and a bit of anger when I saw Mikasa alone by Eren’s grave at the end. A lot of what happened felt either incomplete or forced, and often both. For example, I had imagined the moment the curse of Ymir broke would be the most beautiful moment in the manga, but instead it just... happened? This was supposed to be the peak of this story, the miracle that all these terrible sacrifices were made in the name of. I keep thinking about the moment the curse breaks at the end of Fruits Basket (a great read btw) and how genuinely emotional this chapter is even though the genre is different from SnK’s. Considering Isayama’s talent when portraying emotions, I can’t help but feel terribly underwhelmed by his version of this moment, which should have made us feel like everything was worth it, but didn’t.

Second, the pacing in this last arc (and especially post 123) was messy. I know it’s easy to criticize as a reader, but objectively, spending 7 chapters on the alliance going from point X to point Y and not giving the main character the spotlight he deserves is a major mistake. I kept holding hope that all of the buildup since chapter 130 was going to amount to the last 2-3 chapters slapping extremely hard (like, say, the Grisha-centered chapters in return to Shiganshina, or the Reiner-Eren conversation in Marley), but for the first time, Isayama disappointed me in that regard.

While mostly uninteresting fights got dragged out, some plot points were almost forgotten. Some setups never got a proper conclusion. Eren barely got the time to explain his motivations or what he saw. Historia’s conversation from chapter 130 never got an ending. The parasite and Ymir literally disappeared even though they were the focus of the last two chapters before this one. Some memory shards went unexplained. We never got to see Grisha’s death even when this panel exists?

Regardless of the actual things I don’t like in the ending, I think it would have been more palatable if this last stretch of chapters had been given time to breathe, if only to expand on the characters’ motivations or give us more interactions (for example, Eren’s talks with Annie, Reiner, Connie...).

Third, characterisation and themes. Oh boy. My favourite character is Eren, and my other favourites are Mikasa, Armin, Reiner and Zeke. I think that among these five, the only one who got a true, complete character arc was Armin (and arguably Zeke as well, though the lack of resolution between him and Eren is a hate crime towards me, specifically). Reiner had a great character arc overall but his last appearance in the manga was distateful and a regression. I won’t expand on it.

Mikasa... my poor girl. My most charitable take about her ending is that Isayama wanted to portray her inner strength, the fact she can always live on in the face of adversity and cherish her own life despite the setbacks while remembering those she loves. Well, I guess he succeeded. But in a weirdly unsatisfying way, because this renders her character arc entirely cyclical. Those qualities have characterised Mikasa since the start. It’s established since the very first arc that she’s prideful, brave, and that she has the inner strength to live without Eren if he ever disappears from this world. But the way Isayama made it happen? Having her kill him and then cry next to his grave in the final panels of the manga is what her arc amounted to? I had always hoped that Mikasa could actually save Eren from himself and show him how to live and share his burdens with him (all things that have been foreshadowed in the manga itself, btw). I thought her tattoo would hold some significance, either by

A/ being transmitted to her potential child with Eren were he to survive (didn’t happen)

B/ foreshadowing a future political role for her as a bridge between Hizuru and Paradis (didn’t happen, and furthermore she’s the only alliance member living in Shiganshina and is deliberately separated from the rest of them)

C/ having some kind of supernatural power that would allow her to change the game, were she to enter paths or reach the coordinate (didn’t happen).

So what? In the end, Mikasa’s Big Choice amounted to giving up on her love (but also not really because she’s never going to be able to move on and isn’t allowed to feel anything else but pain), resulting in her losing her family for the third time and never being able to welcome Eren home. This is horrifyingly sad. I’m also frankly disturbed by the sort of ~parallel Eren establishes in this chapter between Ymir and Mikasa, about the topic of love. So the message of SnK was that... love is a chain? Everything happened because Ymir was too attached to the King and couldn’t leave this world, so Mikasa had to show her that she could give up on love for the greater good by killing Eren? I wish I just misunderstood this but that’s what I got from the chapter and I hate it. Also, I really thought Isayama was above the traditional “female character who sacrifices everything and never reaches happiness but stays quiet and endures for the common good” trope. I was wrong.

Mikasa might have been the centerpiece of the story, but she got the short end of the stick. At this point, the writing pretty much does the opposite of what it is supposed to by inadvertently justifying the validity of Mikasa and Eren’s “selfish” dream in chapter 138. Initially, I thought that their dream was wrong and not something truly enviable because in it, they led a life of guilt and regret while knowing full well that Eren would end up dying anyway, leaving Mikasa behind, alone. Naively, I thought that surely choosing the responsible path would be more rewarding for Mikasa, one way or the other. But as it turns out, the path of selflessness also led her to a life of solitude, except now she carries her burdens all on her own without having tasted happiness. Amazing. I genuinely do not know how I am supposed to root for this.

Finally... Eren. Oh boy. Oh, good lord. I’ll admit I wanted him to live, but I was also ready to accept an ending where he dies. But... not like this. I already said I don’t like the fact Mikasa killed him, but what I like even less is the lack of general resolution his character received. He’s the MC for god’s sake! But post-chapter 123, he has received second, if not third-grade treatment, save from chapter 131, which was brilliant.

Overall, his motivations are a mess, which I get. Him getting confused because of all his powers and memories is understandable. Him having conflicting motivations is actually appealing to me. He wanted to save Eldia, but was also disappointed in the outside world (when he says “I would have done it anyway”, I thought about what he said to Ramzi and the "scenery” in 131) , and wished for his friends to become heroes. I get it, it’s fine.

But Isayama went too far with the tragic aspect of his character. As in, there is no catharsis, just crushing pain. Isayama deliberately went overkill by stating that Eren killed 80% of humanity (what the hell), and, even worse, actually drove Dina to Carla. I literally couldn’t believe this. I have seen people theorize about this months ago and immediately discarded it by thinking it was ridiculous and amount to character assassination. To make things clear, I’m not discussing Eren’s actions in the last arc from a moralistic point of view, because this would be another topic entirely, I’m talking about what makes sense in the narrative that has been presented to us since the Paths chapters started and Eren’s plan was revealed. For example, however awful the contents of the scene was, Eren manipulating Grisha to kill the Reiss family was not only amazingly written and drawn in chapter 121 but also narratively motivated by the fact he needed the Founding Titan’s power. This scene also had other functions, such as revealing the Attack Titan’s premonition powers or making Zeke interact with Grisha and understand the truth about his father. Compared to this, the “moment” we have in 139, this abrupt, absurd revelation about him indirectly killing his mother is rushed and nonsensical. Even if this was to kickstart the whole story by awakening his hatred for the titans, I can’t help but feel shaken by how... gratuitous a “plot-twist” it is. What does it say about the attachment Eren had to his mother and her words to him? (”because he was born into this world”). This nullifies one of the most impactful scenes of the manga, because the ending makes it clear that in the end, existing as a human being by the simple virtue of being born wasn’t enough for him. It just couldn’t be, for some reason that I’m yet to fully understand. Instead, he endured and endured, and never got to experience the simple, humane existence Carla wished for him. So were these beautiful words a lie all along? Why did Isayama go to such an extreme with Dina? The only conclusion I can come to is that it’s because he needed Eren to be absolutely, totally irredeemeable. Eren needed, storywise, to be this unstoppable extremist who would get burned to ashes by his uncontrollable desires.

Because yes, apparently, Eren had to die. There was no escape. Worst of all, Eren died a slave. A slave to his desire for freedom. A slave to the destiny he saw at age 15. A slave to his titan powers. This is what I truly can’t forgive about this ending. I won’t stand for the “but he chose this” answer, because it was a choice made out of despair, and all the alternatives are presented as non viable by the narrative (are they really though? or is it just a cope-out to justify the last arc of the manga unfolding as it did?). In short, Isayama justifies this “choice” that was forced on Eren by telling us: his life was destined to be short, he had a violent side he just wouldn’t repress, Mikasa didn’t give him the answer he wanted, he was overwhelmed by what he saw, and their enemies were zeroing in on them. Canonically, all of this made him start the Rumbling. Fine. But I always thought that, at the end of it all, even if Eren were to die, this narrative would be challenged. That Eren would at least have a big cathartic moment, and that he would make another choice upon realising that the freedom he looked for was illusory, and that he would fight to the bitter end for what was right, what he truly wanted, before finally either going to rest or living on with the burden of his actions but the support of his loved ones. I wished for the perfect blend of bitterness and hope. The tragedy of irredeemeable actions completed by the powerful liberation of free will. The idea that change is possible.

But what did we get instead? Eren reaffirming that the Rumbling would have happened anyway while feeling tremendous guilt, as usual (living a life with regrets, and consequently, a death with regrets), refusing the support Armin was ready to lend him (refusing to even try to defy what he thinks is his destiny and pushing others away again) and erasing the memories of all his friends after having manipulated them into ending him against their wishes (going against the most basic concept of freedom). And because we as readers and he as a character have to suffer until the very end, Eren finally clearly expressed his wish to live, to stay with Mikasa and his friends. Only to die 5 pages later, for good.

The main character of this story truly died as a disembodied head, in a titan’s mouth, killed by the person he loved the most before being buried in a nameless grave. One of his mottos was “fight”, but in the end, he didn’t. He let fate happen. In a story about freedom, this is unfathomable. This is beyond the realm of sadness for me, and I’m leaning more and more towards indignation. Where was his dignity as a character? I know that Mikasa, Armin and the others know “the truth about him” but I’m sorry, this isn’t enough. Now, if I ever get the strength to re-read SnK, I won’t be able to look at Eren without thinking about all the things he sacrificed: love, friendship, happiness, humanity, morals, principles, justice, freedom, the lives of countless others, the peace of mind of the person he loves, and his own life. A sacrifice so great should have gotten us a reward as great, if not greater. But we only got the end of the titan curse, without even an apparition or a word from Ymir, the one who actually started all of this, and now Paradis is ruled by the Yeagerists or something. The wings of freedom defaced by two rifles. How great. How satisfying.

In the end, I can’t really fathom what Isayama wanted to say with this chapter. The story itself, the 138 chapters that preceded it seemed clear to me. The world is cruel but also very beautiful. But after having read 139, I don’t know where the freedom the characters chased is. I don’t know why love was portrayed as something so precious but also something that in the end was predestined to be discarded. I don’t know why characters such as Mikasa went against fate only to be crushed by it further down the road.

I never thought that SnK would go into this almost grimdark direction, but it did. I can barely find the beauty in this chapter. Mikasa’s last panels are heartbreaking, but even the strength of her love can’t shine through the countless sacrifices the characters - and especially she and Eren - made, for the sake of a future that already seems extremely compromised. I guess that all in all, the world’s cruelty overshadows everything, and those who make the greatest sacrifices also are those who never get repaid. The world is unfair. I know that, but it was my naive wish that reading a piece of fiction would help me take my mind off this reality by showing me there is also more to it.

PS: the best moment in the chapter was those panels:

Finally, even if it was too little and too late, someone showed Eren he wasn’t alone, and didn’t need to be. RIP, my beautiful boy. You truly did deserve better than what this story allowed you to be.

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thegoodomensdumpster · 4 years

Text

I WATCHED GOOD OMENS IN FRENCH SO YOU DON’T HAVE TO

and it wasn’t that bad. Here are my thoughts, barely edited as I wrote most of them while watching the show.

EP 1

OK i like god’s voice so far

possibilité d’embarras gastrique is a good formulation, I wonder if it’s the same in the book ( I think I kinda need to read it in french now...)

aghghdhgs « primo-délinquants »

of course subtitles don’t match the audio for a variety of technical reasons but when you get things that have very different underlying meanings i find it… not good This one about Crowley being evil / a demon : subtitles : « c’est ton travail » - « it’s your job » audio : « c’est dans ta nature » - « it’s in your nature » i mean dang

crowley sounds like a little shit asking az about his sword

« T’AS FAIT QUOUA » - he just loses his shit (kinda giving me some le coeur a ses raisons vibe)

ok crowley sounds very nerdy when he tries to explain that he took down the phone network, i think i actually like this voice acting

ligur sounds… very suave (im a little ill at ease)

crowley getting called mon chou by satan freddie mercury is a thumb up from me

i see the part where aziraphale speaks japanese wasn’t dubbed over and we can still hear michael sheen. it’s a bit disturbing considering french aziraphale has a higher pitched voice (and he sounds soooo much more anxious than sheen, give this angel a xanax )

“sandwich bœuf cresson” ( beef and cress sandwich ) deirdre really who makes this kind of sandwiches

im being reminded that the chattering nuns prepared little cut outs for their explanation about the antichrist switch… such dedication to useless crafts (it made me laugh on my first viewing and it’s still funny to imagine that some of them either ordered or built these things themselves just so they could make this two minutes long presentation for the most important act of their satanic nun careers)

retire-toi vil démon infernal, créature des abysses XD i swear az doesn’t sound even remotely convinced when he is saying the « get thee behind me foul fiend » line in french, it’s just too over the top for credibility, it sounds like it’s straight out of some super intense dnd session

they still can’t say bouillabaisse (which, like, weird because french, but still valid). nice touch is crowley couldn’t say soupe de poisson (fish stew) either and said poupe de soisson (sish ftew)

warlock mah boy how can you be a teenager and not like dinosaurs

c’est un dinosaure un nullosaure plutôt - apply burn heal

La façon dont warlock s’est exclamé « C’EST NUL » m’a fait penser au nain de naheulbeuk

the english version has nothing on french speaking aziraphale for the second hand embarrassement during the magic tour. it’s over 9000 i literally hid my head in my jumper when he was presenting harry the bunny. Horrible experience, 0/20, would not recommend

EP 2

oooh agnes has a lovely voice !

why is young newton having such a quality dub for the three sentences he has to say

dick turpin’s name is jesse james (tbf dick turpin is not known AT ALL in france, i discovered him reading good omens)

shadwell is pure chaos (as expected). No particular accent for him though, the chaotic energy was probably enough. Would have made me laugh if he had like, a chti or a marseilles accent.

aziraphale is so fucking stressed out by crowley’s driving i thought he was gonna explode

« tu es un gentil garçon » => « you’re a nice boy » said az to crowley DANG THAT’S SO INFANTILIZING AZIRAPHALE YOU’RE TALKING TO A DEMON FROM HELL NOT TO PINOCCHIO

ARGH FIRST MON ANGE OF THE SERIES i’m hit straight in the heart

anathema’s mom doesn’t have a spanish / latino accent at all when talking in spanish…. why...

dog being called toutou is definitely adorable (it’s basically « doggy » but way cuter imo)

tickety-boo has become ça gaze. that’s valid. it’s corny but i still use it unironically from time to time so ... i stan

EP 3

« je répands la fomentation » « i’m here spreading foment » « quoi tu fais des crêpes au froment ?????? » « what you’re making crêpes with wheat ??? » love the fact that we shoehorned in one more ref to crêpes

az called crowley mon cher camarade, unintentionnal communist propaganda ftw

« pas de repos pour les… bah, pour les bons » « no rest for the… good » – az was so deflated about the ineptitude he realized he was saying, he felt zero percent commited to his sentence

i was wondering how they would play aziraphale not being able to speak french in the bastille and they opted to have him stutter a bit and say to his executionner « excuse me i’m anxious » XD

« vous êtes le 999e aristo à mourir par mes soins. Mais vous êtes le premier en costume beige » « you’re the 999th aristocrat I’m going to kill, but the first one in beige attire » yeah i guess now that az isn’t english anymore his most noticeable feature is his cream aesthetic

« c’est au cas où ça tournerait en eau de boudin » « j’ADORE le boudin » => « in case it all goes pear shape » - the literal translation featuring food in french is « turning into black sausage water ». I don’t know what pear shaped inspires to english native speakers but the mere mention of boudin always make me giggle, it’s such a funny word and such a funny food

OH !!! no terrence rampa for the tv series, we’ve got anthony J. rampa. Rip terrence petit démon parti trop tôt :’(

« tu roules trop vite pour moi rampa » SERIOUSLY i know we can still infer « rouler » (here as in driving, but literally rolling) as a metaphor for their relationship but you could have said TU VAS TROP VITE that would have been so much better argh

has anathema got an emergency stock of potteries to break in case of emotionnal crisis ?

« Rampa, un démon très futé, il m’oblige à redoubler d’effort » « crowley, a very clever demon, he forces me to make double the amount of effort » oh so admitting you’re making an effort there aziraphale ? :))))))

dang i really want to know how shadwell said that major milk bottle died because not only did he die in combat but aziraphale’s reaction is a bit intense, it must have been quite a tale (this could be a crack fic prompt : «The Epic Tale of the Death Of Major Witchfinder Milk Bottle, by Sargent Witchfinder Shadwell» )

des sorcières et des phénomènes sorciéreux x)

CROWLEY CALLED AZIRAPHALE DUCON ?????? EXCUSE ME ????? #NotMyCrowley #CrowleyWouldNeverDoThat #CancelAnthonyJRampa2K20 => ducon would be an insult, the gathering of du and con, con being a very nasty but common swear word, and associating it with du- makes it extremely patronizing. it’s like « absolute pathetic digraceful moron +++ ». thanks i hate it *frowny face *

EP 4

l’apocalypse c’est pour aujourd’hui juste après le goûter : it could be translated as « apocalypse is scheduled for today right after tea time » except that « goûter » is not quite tea time but rather the little sugary snack kids take when they come back from school and that most adults drop out of (i haven’t and i’m sure az hasn’t either). thanks aziraphale for having exclusively food related notion of the time because tbh same

ligur has no right to be this sexy between ariyon bakare and his french voice actor that’s just not allowed

radio crowley’s voice vs french ligur’s voice, who has the sexiest voice : FIGHT

(jk french agnes nutter’s voice is by far the sexiest)

gender neutral doesn’t ‘quite’ exist in french but pollution has been assigned a female voice actress and masculine pronouns (i’m saying it doesn’t quite exist because officially we have no gender neutral, but it’s a serious wip among lgbt+ circles to the point where it’s started being used in a few medias)

hastur « en attendant qu’un plombier vienne » / « while waiting for a plumber to come » does hell have a special plumber unit or do demons have to call on human plumbers for their pipes damages ? Dang hastur having to call a human plumber for hell’s plumbery is another damn good writing prompt for a crack fic

Michael is called Michel in the subtitles but Michael in the audio *shrug emoji*

EP 5

to get a wiggle on has become « il faut qu’on se remue les fesses », literally « we need to shake our butts » like, yes, se remuer les fesses is a common expression to say « we need to act in order to get things done » but it really casts the image of people shaking their booty to some music and obviously crowley thinks the same Weirdly enough I have almost nothing to say for that episode. Sorry. But we’ve discovered most voice actors and actresses so far and no bit of dialogue really struck me as worth discussing or pointing fingers to mock it.

EP 6

« on va BROUTER quelques derrières » - « we’re gonna lick some butts » OK THIS IS UNQUESTIONNABLY FAR SUPERIOR IN FRENCH THAN IN ENGLISH you thought LICKING butts was good ??? you really thought that ???? AZIRAPHALE HERE SUGGESTS TO GRAZE BUTTS. TO NIBBLE THEM. TO EAT THEM. TO. MUNCH. ON. THOSE. BUTTS!!!! not just licking, guys. This is as serious step beyond licking. (oh yeah he should have said « botter » instead of brouter btw, which is really just kicking, fyi)

« moi je crois en la paix, pétasse ! » wow, language, pepper (fyi i think « pétasse » is far far worse than « bitch » even if it means roughly the same, pétasse is almost never used while bitch is rather common, so it’s a swear word +++)

Dagon sounds like she’s got a nasty cold. #GetDagonIbuprofen2K20

I can confirm that Crowley offers Aziraphale to not just stay at his place, but to move in with him. « tu peux t’installer chez moi si tu veux ». omg they were roommates.

Bad translation strikes again : i don’t know why, but the french dub doesn’t have the « tickety-boo » / « ça gaze » being referenced as Rampa / Aziraphale is being knocked down, which is… a real mistep. It was narratively significant and I’m quite mad the translators missed it.

The Jesse James explanation from Newt has become very nonsensical, instead of the neat and to the point pun « wherever I go I hold up trafic » we’re getting a circonvoluted « because it’s a crime to mechanic’s diligence ». I’m not judging that one too hard, I have no idea how to make it better, and that’s probably how it was translated in the book as well thirty years ago, but it definitely doesn’t have the same impact. On the other hand, it definitely IS a very bad joke that doesn’t even deserve a chuckle, so Anathema’s embarassement really matches the audience’s (aka mine).

OVERALL :

I wasn’t convinced by Crowley… I mean, Rampa’s voice at first, but as the nerdiness showed up it really grew on me. I still think that french dubs have often problems with some voice inflexions every here and there, and for instance in Rampa’s case it was when he was annoyed or frustrated ( at the Globe when complaining about horses and Shakespeare’s plays that aren’t comedies, and also when discussing Azirphale’s magic tricks, it’s like… there is a step between having the right amount of grumpy complaining and overdoing it that is overlooked. It’s overacted, it should have been a bit quieter imo. I don’t mean to criticize voice actors too hard either but as an audience watching french dubs this is a very recurring problem and it always feels off to me. It’s actually one of the main reasons I avoid french dubs whenever possible.)

I have a hard time judging Aziraphale’s voice dub because it clashes so much with both the idea I had formed with it when I read the book and Sheen’s delivery that I just… kinda filtered it. It was too high pitched for me, and too anxious (though for this last point I must admit it could be funny at times, but I’m not fond of this character portrayal). The rest of the cast was rather good, nothing to complain about. There wasn’t anything stellar either, but everything that needed to be conveyed was and it was professionnal. It was also very homogeneous, no voice really struck me as being way too bad or way too good compared to the others, so it was really consistant.

So I don’t have much to complain about overall despite a few wonky translations here and there, BUT there is one thing I felt very robbed of : Crowley calling Aziraphale « mon ange » happens only once, when giving a lift to Anathema, and I’m almost certain they translated it that way because otherwise the joke about Anathama mistaking them for a couple wouldn’t work. So, they were forced to make it that way. The rest of the time Crowley calls Aziraphale « l’angelot », and despite being literally translated by « little angel », it feels sarcastic more than anything else ( the « L’ » in front of « angelot » is part of the reason why, it creates some distance, the other reason being that this word in itself has a very corny vibe and people being affectionnate to each other wouldn’t use it as a term of endearment). So, that’s a shame.

I like the English dub much much MUCH better than the French, but the french wasn’t nearly as bad as I was expecting it to be. The voice actors and actresses were quite good, the dialogues mostly faithful and endearing despite a few really missed steps. It really had its moments. Props to brouter des derrières, that one was fantastic.

#good omens #french #french omens #tv omens #my stuff #meta #review #long post #text post #i hope you found this entertaining :)

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thehollowprince · 4 years

Text

Context is Everything, Pt. 2

Or... "Have You Actually Watched The Show?"

Pt. 1, with excellent additions by @camelotpark and @princeescaluswords can be found here.

As anyone who follows me knows, I've been particularly active when it comes to defending Scott McCall on Teen Wolf recently, because we've had a lot of anons (one anon on repeat) harassing us. It made me more familiar with those who are just hellbent on taking Scott and casting him in the absolute worst possible light at every opportunity.

As such, occasionally, I'll find myself venturing behind enemy lines to see what nonsense they're spouting now out of a sense of morbid curiosity.

And boy did I find some doozies this time around.

For example:

This is why this post is titled Context, because its something that these people conveniently leave out when they try to woobify certain characters and demonize others.

Take this one - every line written down there is taken out-of-context. If people actually watched the show, they'd know that Derek was living in the burned out shell of his family home by his own choice. We found out later that he had a hell of a lot of money, enough to by entire building. Hell, there were even clues before that, in the fact that he drove around in an expensive muscle car and clearly had enough cash to replace a shattered window on said car in a relatively short period of time. Derek lived in squalor (first the mansion and then the train station) by choice, which is entirely apparent if one would just watch the show.

And then there's the attempt to deflect by bringing up Derek's trauma, hoping that people won't pay attention to all the horrible things Derek did in the first two seasons. These people straight up switch the definitions of Excuse and Explain in an attempt to make Derek's actions, particularly toward Scott and Stiles seem either not that bad, or weirdly enough, romantic (in the case of Stiles). They like to pretend that the horrible things that Derek went through (which explain his behavior) give him free reign to do whatever he wants, particularly when it comes to assaulting Scott (them trying to excuse his behavior.)

They wave Derek's trauma, being sexually assaulted and manipulated by Kate Argent who used him so that she could murder his family as an excuse for him to assault teenagers new to this world, breaking-and-entering, attempted murder (more than once) and actual murder. This is even more disturbing when you remember that the same people who love to troy out what Kate did to him when he was a teenager love to ship Derek as an adult with Stiles, who is a teenager. The irony is so thick you could choke on it.

Derek may have had one of the most fulfilling arcs on this show, but just because he finally stopped trying so hard to be something he wasn't and learned to let go, doesn't absolve him of the things he did in earlier seasons. Was he a hero by the end of the show? Yes, but he wasn't always. His first two seasons were him being one of the antagonists to being more akin to an actual villain (not the main villain, but still a villain - or anti-villain) in the second season.

And then we have this gem:

Once again, every aspect of context from the show is removed from these sentences to make Scott look like the worst thing since the plague.

Without context this just paints Scott as some warmongering asshole who goes around picking up random teenager shapeshifters and inducting them into his personal war.

With context, we know that Scott saved that kid, Alec, from Tamora and her hunters after they'd already killed all of his friends/pack. Scott didn't just pick Alec and say "hey, you're a werewolf and these hunters are after you so you have to join me or else." He invited Alec to join them in stopping the hunters with full knowledge of what he would be getting into. Not at all Derek's recruitment of Isaac, Erica and Boyd, where he preyed on them at their most vulnerable and gave them the most vague idea of what they'd be getting into. You need further proof of that? How about the fact that Derek's whole pack left him because they didn't sign up to be foot soldiers in his personal vendetta. Erica and Boyd straight up left after saying that Derek lied to them about what they'd be getting into and Isaac went and joined Scott's pack, because Scott actually cared about those in his pack.

Scott never asked any of his friends, his pack, to fight for him. Hell, in season four, during the whole deadpool hitlist plot, when Liam was too scared to get involved any more, Scott reassured him that it was okay and that he didn't think any less of him. And when Liam did get involved, that's because it was his choice. Scott didn't order him to fight, Liam chose to because it was the right thing to do. This is in direct contrast to Derek ordering his betas to kill Lydia on nothing more than his own suspicions and lack of knowledge about his own world.

Its also another blatant use of their double-standards when it comes to Scott. For the entire run of the show, these people have complained ad nauseum about how Scott didn't do anything. He was too nice and let the villains off without any consequences (he didn't, but they don't care about that), and yet here, in the finale, we have him finally taking the fight to the people coming after him, and suddenly its a bad thing.

Am I the only one that's confused by that logic?

What makes it worse is the fact that they're comparing Scott and Derek at two very different points in their lives and trying to paint Scott as comparable to Derek at his worst (kudos to them for admitting Derek was bad). Once again, with context, we know that the two situations are completely different, no matter how similar they may look. Derek went actively recruiting child soldiers, turning them into werewolves to fight in his war against Gerard and the hunters. Scott only ever bit two people, and one of them was an accident. Everyone that joined his fight was already a werewolf (or shapeshifter of some kind). Scott didn't turn any of them. He found Alec (and I'm assuming others) and offered him the chance to fight back against people who were actively hunting him. Isaac, Erica and Boyd weren't in any danger from the hunters until after Derek recruited them. On the surface, these two situations look very similar, but with context, they're not even remotely the same.

Context is everything. Without it, people can make whatever statement they like, but it doesn't change the truth of what actually happened. All it takes is for someone to actually watch the show to see how things actually went down.

#context is everything #scott mccall defense squad #teen wolf fandom problems

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ashintheairlikesnow · 4 years

Note

Teddy bear jake turns 🤜🤜 yes please

CW: some vague references to past pet whump/dehumanization, some degrading language

This is a direct continuation from this drabble about Jake taking Chris to classes with him for a day.

Jake sits on a bench holding the zip-up in his lap, watching Chris sink gracefully down to kneel in the grass. He’s in the back, watching the instructor at the front of the free yoga class they do in the grassy spot next to the Student Center with rapt attention.

Jake can’t do yoga to save his life - he’s all weight-lifting for stress relief Still, Chris had been so fucking excited when he’d seen everyone setting up - this is, is just like-like-like the videos at my Sir’s, Jake! Like classes in training, like, this is just like- that Jake couldn’t possibly have said no. So he’s just watching, leaning back against the wooden slats on the bench, as the young rescue blows every other student in the class out of the water.

Some of them look sidelong at Chris, he thinks, but they don’t say anything. And Jake wouldn’t tell, them, anyway. Yeah, look, he’s flexible as shit for the worst possible reasons and let’s just let him have this good thing today, okay?

Jake is technically working on notes for an essay in one of his classes, on the unique healthcare needs of older human pets still trapped in the system and ways to fix their lowered life expectancies, and finds himself scribbling JUST STOP HURTING THEM SO FUCKING MUCH in angular, angry writing where he’d meant to write something about a need for increased access to antibiotics.

He decides to take a break and just watch Chris, instead. He’s been moving with perfect grace through every pose, and Jake can’t quite take his eyes off him. It’s… disturbing, to know why he’s so good at this, and know at the same time that doing it makes Chris so deeply content.

“Remember that modification to your personal level of comfort is encouraged,” The instructor is saying, as the students move out of the last set of poses. She’s a woman with a long black braid and a soft, soothing, deep voice. “We have a few of our advanced students today, and we’re going to move into kapotasana, or King Pigeon Pose. Beginners, please focus on Cobra pose, and hold. Intermediate, I’d like to see a Bridge pose held deeply. Let’s begin.”

Chris is kneeling, balanced so his head is directly above his knees, as though a straight line had been drawn right through, hands against the back of his pelvis. He watched the instructor as she moves, and follows her low methodical commands.

Jake watches him inhale and tuck his chin, leaning head and shoulders back but keeping his hips perfectly still. His shoulders move under his loose long-sleeved shirt in a way Jake can’t really tell. He’s glad for the shirt having those thumb-holes in it, or Chris could never have done yoga without risk.

Chris brings his palms together in front of his sternum, a small smile on his face, and then pulls them apart, reaching over his head, his back bending as he arches backwards with his hips moving slowly forwards. He drops back, and he’s bent totally backwards, palms on the floor with his fingertips pointing towards his feet.

Jakes eyebrows raise nearly to his hairline.

Chris inhales one more time, then slowly exhales and presses his shins and forearms against the floor, shifting his hands until he can grip his own feet, his body a perfect arch with his head resting on the ground, strawberry blond against the grass.

For a full thirty seconds, Jake stares at Chris holding a pose that Jake couldn’t even begin to touch, not with weeks of yoga, probably not with months. But Chris’s willowy body seems to hold it effortlessly.

How much time do they spend on yoga? Flexibility exercises? All so those sick fucks can watch-

The thirty seconds is up, and Chris walks his hands back away from his feet, breathing slowly as he pushes his torso back upright on the inhale. It’s all graceful, it looks so easy and effortless.

Jake’s back hurts in sympathy, even though he knows Chris won’t hurt at all.

“Good,” The instructor praises, and Chris flushes deeply even though she isn’t really speaking directly to him. Jake watches him mouth good boy to himself, and shudders.

There’s a question he won’t ask, about just how Chris had to do his exercising before.

The teacher takes them into Child’s Pose for a few breaths to relax, moves on, and Jake goes back to his notes - scribbling nonsense to himself, not even thinking. Before long the class is laid out in the final pose, just lying down really, the one that always made Jake fall asleep when he used to do yoga sometimes at the gym.

“Now that’s some sexy shit,” He hears someone say nearby, ad turns his head slightly to see a couple of guys his own age looking over the class. “They shouldn’t even let them do this shit out here. That’s inappropriate.”

The guy next to him laughs, and Jake’s fingers tighten slightly around the papers in his hands.

“That hot one at the back, watching that was basically porn,” The first one says, and they both laugh again. Jake’s fingers tighten more. They’re talking about someone else, he tells himself. They’re talking about someone else.

Not that that’s better, but if it’s Chris-

“Jake!”

The class must be over - Chris is standing in front of him, flushed and a little sweaty and smiling, grass stains on his knees and a bright, pleased sparkle in his eyes. Jake looks up at him and smiled, too, moving to gather his things.

“Jake, Jake, I did, I did all the poses even the hard ones, I still, I can still do them, Jake.”

“I know you can, man. You’re amazing as always.”

He pushes himself to standing, ruffling Chris’s hair, watching him melt under the affection.

“Hey.” One of the assholes from before gets Jake’s attention. “Hey, aren’t you the guy who hands out flyers downtown? The guy who got arrested protesting?”

Jake rolls his eyes, slipping his backpack over one shoulder, feeling the familiar heavy weight and wondering how old he’ll be before wearing a backpack stops feeling as natural as breathing. “Yeah, congrats, that was me.”

“What’d you get arrested for?” The second guy asks, then turns to his buddy. “What’d he get arrested for?”

“I don’t know, some Save the Whales bullshit.”

“The whales are fine,” Jake grinds out, keeping his voice calm, feeling Chris press against his side in an instinctive bid to calm the rising tension. “It doesn’t matter what I got arrested for. It was like six hours in jail, they didn’t even hold me.”

Most of us who protest end up with more than that.

“Jesus. It’s like it doesn’t even bother you.”

“It really doesn’t.” Jake shrugs. “Now, look, me and my cousin need to get to my next class, okay?” He tries not to look down at Chris. He tries not to wonder whether or not Chris had held onto his act or if he’s looking up at Jake with the trusting puppydog eyes that give him away.

He can feel Chris’s fingers doing the weird little twist, tapping against Jake’s side. Nat calls it a stim, something about calming him, said to let him do it. But Jake tries to make sure they don’t notice.

“Yeah, okay, King Badass. Keep on fighting the good fight, or whatever.” They grin, and wave at Chris, who tentatively waves back. Jake steps slightly in front of him. “Jesus, dude, okay. We’ll leave your little boyfriend alone.”

“I’m his cousin,” Chris pipes up, right on cue. “I’m, I’m, I’m Christopher Garner-”

“Hush, Chris, you’re fine.” Jake fixes an even stare on the two other guys, who seem to shrink back a little, as if suddenly realizing for the first time just how tall and big Jake is. “Back. Off”

“Jesus. Guy reminds me of this asshole at this fucking house party I went to, following some freshman or something around all night fucking growling at anyone who talked to him. Dude was real fucking possessive, too, he wouldn’t let any of us mess with him.”

“Dude. That wasn’t a freshman.” Second guy turns to look at the first. “You didn’t notice the thing around his neck?”

Jake closes his eyes, briefly, as he sees red. As Chris, next to him, jerks in a hitched breath when he understands - faster than anyone - what they’re talking about.

I didn’t want him to know about this, that it’s not safe even here.

“It was dark. What thing around his neck?”

“You know.” Second guy twirls one finger around by his Adam’s apple in a vague gesture. “You know, dude. Like, you know… but for people?”

At least you two have the grace to be too ashamed to fucking say it.

“Was it at a goddamn frat house?” Jake asks, and Chris’s tapping against his side speeds up, his eyes get bigger, impossibly huge, impossibly vulnerable and worried.

“What?”

“The party. Was it over on Greek Row?”

“Uhhhh maybe, I was pretty trashed before we even got there, but-”

“You know what. Never fucking mind. Just… fuck off. Unless you want the flyer, I got places to be.” Jake walks away, half-dragging Chris behind him, and the two guys watch him go, baffled.

“Jake, um, hey, hey Jake, hey hey hey-”

“Not now, Chris,” Jake says, heavily. “I just… shit, man, I just wanted this to be good for you for once-”

“Can, can, can I come back?”

Jake stops, and Chris stumbles to a stop beside him. “What?” He looks down at the brilliant green eyes that stare right back. Chris, unbelievably, is fucking smiling.

The moment of worry, of fear, of indecision and nervousness immediately forgotten.

“I want, um, I want to come back and do, do, do do more yoga, can I come back for yoga? Please?”

They do yoga on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays by the Student Center. Jake is only on campus for the Wednesday classes, but… it won’t cost that much more in bus fare, really. And it’d only be a couple of hours...

“Yeah,” Jake says, and feels his mood lighten. “Yeah, Chris. We can do that. I can study on that bench while you’re exercising. I bet Antoni and Leila will come with us, too.”

Fucking rescue field trips, twice a week. Fucking perfect.

Weirdly, the thought has him smiling.

“You’re not worried about those guys? People like them? About the, um-”

That’s it’s here, too? That you can’t escape it?

“No.” Chris shrugs, thin shoulders moving under his shirt, and folds his arms in front of himself. “Not, not, not worried about them. You’ll be here, so, so I feel safe.”

Jake sighs.

If only he could believe he could keep them that way.

“Yeah, okay. Come on, let’s get to class.”

#trauma recovery #original fiction #jake the shelter guy #chris the strawberry blond romantic #trauma recovery whump #pet whump #dehumanization #box boy #box boy universe #freed whumpee #rescued whumpee

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parkersharthook · 4 years

Text

Leaves From The Vine

(Peter Parker x reader)

Warnings: angst, minor violence, mentions of neglectful parents, possibly tiggering backstory, mentions of avatar: the last airbender throughout including the title lol

5.9k+ words

A/n: okay so i’m weirdly proud of this even though it’s like really random? i’ve had this story as a dream for the last week so I just had to write it and I really like the beginning but it kind of falls apart towards the end lol. also if you don’t know atla it’s chill.

enjoy! also requests are open

A secret about you comes out that forces you to spill all the painful memories of your childhood. It causes you to fear for your position in Peter’s life.

It was tense in the conference room. Everyone sat in complete silence. Your glassy eyes watched Tony pace at the head of the table while you bit your lip and fiddled your fingers nervously. He would pause for a moment and then resume his pacing, never taking his eyes off you. There was another fidgety presence pressed against the far wall of the room, out of your direct eyeline, but you could make out his shadow in your peripheral. You didn’t think you deserved to look at him, not right now.

“I’m gonna go.” His voice was quiet and terse, his movements rigid and frustrated as he practically sprinted for the door. He yanked it open with superhuman strength, almost pulling it straight off the hinges. A head of blonde and a pair of heels followed hurriedly after him. You winced as the door slammed shut and hung your head in shame. You really didn’t mean for it to come to this.

4 hours earlier

“Do you want Chinese?”

You didn’t answer, your fingers curling gently around Peter’s hair. You followed his natural curve pattern before untwisting it and then moving it in the opposite direction. You were completely entranced with the fluffy head of hair settled nicely in your lap.

Peter sighed and rolled his eyes fondly as he looked into your face. He recognized the look: eyes locked in on the strand of hair, lips parted slightly, short tuffs of air coming out regularly. His hair had your undivided attention.

This happened sometimes and it wasn’t always something you could control. You’d find something small and insignificant to focus on and slowly disassociate from the world. Sometimes your thoughts were about the task you had undertaken or sometimes they were about anything and everything. On your better days, you called it your ‘Avatar State’.

The first few times it happened, Peter had startled you out of it (on accident of course) which left you embarrassed and him apologetic. Over the course of your 6 month relationship however, he learned. And while he didn’t really want to disturb you, his stomach was growling up something fierce and needed food. His hand snaked upward slowly and slightly before it gently landed on you knee. He rested it there for a moment before giving it a light squeeze.

He saw you blink, your eyes watering and then refocusing quickly. You blinked a few more times before inhaling deeply and looking around. Peter smiled at you and then smiled wider when your gaze made it down to his face. You combed your hand through his head with more purpose this time, “sorry. Zoned out there for a bit.”

“no worries. Hungry?” You nodded and Peter immediately sat up and moved off the bed causing you to frown.

He whined dramatically, “Babe, I’m so hungry. My dad said he got Chinese so it’s either that or we leave this tower immediately to get some food.”

You rolled your eyes and lazily rolled off the bed, strolling up to Peter and throwing your arms around his neck like you had all the time in the world. You pressed a chaste kiss to his lips before pulling back, “so needy.”

“the neediest. Now c’mon, I’m hungry.” He grabbed your hand and quickly pulled you towards the door. You laughed as you trailed behind him as he pulled you through the long hallways until you reached the kitchen.

“Thank god you two showed up. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could fight off these heathens for you to get food.” Tony said bitterly as he put his body in front of a good pile of cartons. Peter could see both Bucky and Sam eyeing the pile with hungry eyes, despite the large amount of food on both of their plates.

“yes! You’re the best dad!” Peter quickly vaulted over the couch and ran to the kitchen to grab the food. You were much slower and much less graceful as you walked around the furniture like a normal person. You often compared yourself to Sokka while surrounded by superheroes.

You smiled at the older man, “thank you Tony.”

“of course.” You settled against the counter, quickly digging into a carton of noodles.

Sam narrowed his eyes at peter, “why do they get so much food?”

“because we like them better.” Steve said casually as he strolled into the room with Morgan on his hip.

Peter pointed his fork at Sam, “haha.” Then turned to his dad, “great timing pops. You’re the best.”

“I thought I was the best?” Tony called from the couch.

“sorry you’ve been demoted.” Peter stated casually causing you to laugh.

Tony turned and pouted before looking at you. “y/n you think I’m the best right?”

You quickly held your hands up in defense, “I’m not in the middle of this.”

Bucky shook his head, “Good choice y/n, you’re too smart for their nonsense.” Your eyes caught his metal arm, remembering when you gave him the nickname of sparky-sparky boom man a few weeks ago. You had quickly covered your mouth in embarassment before Clint began laughing so hard he couldn’t breathe. It had actually ended up with you not murdered, surprisingly.

Morgan perked up, clumsily pushing her curls out of her face with a little baby hand. Her voice drew you back, “Even me Unc’ Buck?”

Bucky smiled softly and pushed her hair back, “Course not Morgan. Everyone knows you’re the smartest of them all.”

Morgan giggled happily and then looked over to you with a big smile. You smiled back just as largely.

“I take it back, Morgan’s my favorite!”, you stated seriously. A chorus of groans from your boyfriend and his dads could be heard. You smiled and looked around as more avengers began to file in. Peter slid closer and bumped your hip with his, offering you a small smile. Oh, so this is what happy looked like.

Now

“Tony.. I-” He silence you immediately with a raised hand a little ‘ump’ noise. Your mouth clamped shut with an audible click. He waited for a moment before his hand landed back on his chin and his pacing began again. His eyes still burned into your skin. Great job with the parents, you thought bitterly to yourself.

You winced under his gaze a moment later and ducked your head, your whole body slouching and your hand coming up to fiddle with the ends of your hair. You could feel the gaze of nine pairs of eyes on you and it made you wildly uncomfortable. You didn’t like being the center of attention, that’s why you kept this a secret. But look where that got you now.

2 hours earlier

“Hey Pete, can I come in?” Steve called from behind the door with a small knock.

“yeah it’s open.” Peter called back. Steve entered the room to find Peter laying on his bed in a slightly bent shape, with you copying his position but with your head at the foot of the bed. Peter was fiddling with a loose strand of thread on your sock and Steve couldn’t help but smile at the sight. You two were good for each other.

“I need you to watch Morgan for a little bit, we got called in for an emergency meeting at SHIELD.”

“everything okay? Am I needed?”

Steve shook his head, “no it’s not a mission it’s about something else… I don’t really know. I usually stop listening when fury starts talking.” The sentence startled a laugh out of you. Steve smiled at you, “he’s usually full of hot hair.” Steve shrugged causing you to smile wider. Man, you wish you had a dad like him.

“but all’s good?”

“yeah it’s fine, not even everyone is going, just me, your dad, Wanda, and Sam. Both Bruce and Vision will be in the lab if you need something but they’re working on some project or another. Clint’s not allowed to babysit unsupervised, like you know and Bucky and Nat are currently… well occupied…”

You stifled a giggle at the shade of red Peter turned. “ew dad.”

He chuckled slightly, “sorry. But do you mind watching her? It’ll only be for an hour or two.”

“yeah of course.” Both you and Peter shifted slightly and got off the bed. “is she in the living room?”

“yeah she’s with your dad coloring. Tell him to hurry up, will you?”

“Yeah I got you. Good luck with whatever is going on.”

“yeah thanks kid.”

You and Peter walked to the living room, Morgan instantly perking up and rushing towards you guys. She barreled into your legs, causing you to stumble back with a laugh as Peter steadied you. You smiled at the happy toddler as you bent down and picked her up.

“yeah thanks Morg, forget all about Daddy. Real great.” You laugh as Tony slowly picked himself off the floor, groaning slight.

“Pops says to hurry up. We got the little rascal.” Morgan squealed at the name as Peter quickly moved to tickle her stomach.

“Yeah, yeah I’m going.” He paused and planted firm clap on Peter’s shoulder before pressing a sloppy kiss to Morgan’s forehead just to make her laugh. To your surprise however, Tony also placed a delicate kiss to your cheek as he left with a little wave. You blushed and found your eyes tearing up slightly at the fatherly affection. You quickly pushed down the emotions with a cough and moved to the couch, a wriggling three year old still in your arms. You set her down softly on the ground and she immediately tugged Peter to the floor with her to color. You settled on the sectional behind them watching with a warm smile. You could get used to this.

Now

You felt the tip of a shoe graze against your shin and your head shot up, eyes widening. You didn’t realize you had gone into another disassociation until you met Natasha’s piercing green eyes. She quirked an eyebrow in question and you gave a slight nod trying to signal that all was good. Not that all was good at all really. In fact it felt like you’re entire world was falling apart around you. I mean here you were sitting in a room with nine other fully trained and very intimidating superheroes, and you were absolutely sure you were on the verge of tears and so unbelievably exhausted. But you couldn’t show that so you just nodded shyly.

Your eyes flitted around the room once more. Tony had finally stopped pacing and was now bracing himself against the back of the office chair. Steve reach up and lightly grabbed his wrist, encouraging him to sit down. Tony glanced at Steve’s hand but made no effort to move.

Bucky has folded his hands together, obviously getting impatient. Clint looked bored as he used a knife to dig dirt out from beneath his nails. Rhodey, Sam, and Vision were the definition of calm and collected as they sat politely and silently. Stupid military men/androids and their stupid manners. Wanda and Natasha just looked concerned and kept eyeing you with worry which was honestly making you even more nervous than before.

Tony took a large and loud inhale, practically forcing the attention to him. Your eyes snapped to his, your hands beginning to shake slightly. He narrowed his eyes at you and frowned slightly, “spill.”

45 minutes earlier

“I’m gonna run to the bathroom real quick.” Peter told you as he pushed himself up. Stretching out his legs and groaning from sitting on the hard floor for so long

“yeah no problem.”

Morgan turned to you, “can we color more?”

“of course sweetheart. Let’s get some more paper from the kitchen table.” You stood from the couch and held out your hand for the child to take. She did so happily and skipped behind you with a large smile on her face. You were about 6 yards from the kitchen when something went terribly, terribly wrong.

You’re not even sure what happened and you doubt you’d be able to recall it in the future. In one second flat, red lights started flashing, alarms began to blare, the large windows on the wall shattered to a million pieces, and large scary looking things rushed towards you.

Looking back on it, you’re sure that you blacked out and were running on pure instinct and adrenaline. Because only a fraction of a second later did you thrust your hand toward a robot, not waiting to see if it went down before curling your body around Morgan and raising a hand above your head to protect yourself. Morgan was crying against your chest and you did your best to console her with your free hand, your other one shaking and straining to stay raised.

You don’t know how long you were in that position, you had your eyes squeezed too tightly shut and you were deathly scared of what would happen if you opened them. Logically, you told yourself, nothing would change and your vision would remain dark. But you couldn’t risk it.

What felt like an eternity later you finally heard a voice. It was soft but obviously scared and sounded far away. You very cautiously opened your eyes, putting your hand against Morgan’s head and pushing her further against your chest. Nothing was getting to this child, so help you god. You looked around, only seeing darkness, and strained your ears.

“y/n? Morgan?” That was Peter. He sounded worried, anxious even. He called again, this time sounding closer. “Are you in there?”

“Peter!” that was someone new. It made you wince causing Morgan to cry harder. She had no idea what was going on and was reacting purely off of what you were doing. You had to stay calm, for her. “What happened!?” Tony. That was Tony. Oh no… he probably came home once the alarm sounded.

You looked down to the sobbing child in your arms and knew that nothing would stop Tony from seeing his baby. And you didn’t want to cause any more harm, so very slowly you lowered your arm. The rock barrier you put around you and the child lowered with it.

You squinted against the harsh intake of lights but quickly refocused and saw every. Single. Damn. Avenger standing in front of you looking both concerned and absolutely flabbergasted.

“what the fuck?” peter stuttered out, looking to where Morgan was still sniffling against you. Very quickly Morgan picked her head up at the noise of her brother’s voice and caught his eye. Her eyes quickly welled up again but then she noticed her dads and absolutely took off to find comfort in them. You didn’t blame her, you would love a nice hug right about now. But from the looks on the faces of the people around you, you really didn’t think you were gonna get one.

Steve’s gaze on you hardened immediately, “y/n, you have some explaining to do.” All you could do was nod dumbly from your place on the floor. You didn’t notice you were crying as well.

Now

“spill.”

“tony, maybe you should sit down.” Steve’s voice was soft and reassuring. Damn you wish it was directed at you right now.

Natasha was next, “Tony, you’re scaring her. Sit down.”

He threw his hands around, “I’m scaring her!?” you flinched at the loud sound. It didn’t go unnoticed by the heroes. Tony continued on, “She- she- she fucking controlled the earth around her! I didn’t know where Morgan was! If the intruders had gotten her or if she was dead somewhere and there she was, with- with her!” The finger pointed at you felt threatening and harsh. More tears spilt from your eyes.

Sam shot out of his seat, anger clouding his features. “Stand down.” Tony glared at him, neither refusing to back down. Sam seethed, “she’s a child. She’s scared. And right now Tony, she’s scared of you.” The words caused Tony to deflate slightly. “she saved Morgan. Sit your ass down before I make Steve carry you out of here.”

Tony sent another glare Sam’s way before landing in his chair clumsily. He didn’t meet your gaze again, preferring to stare at the wooden table instead. But his hands were clenched, obviously still angry about the situation.

“I’m sorry.” You words were broken and hoarse and didn’t even sound like you. You felt warm hands cover your own, it was Nat, but you pulled away. You didn’t deserve that. Not right now.

“y/n…” Sam started slowly. That was his therapist voice. It was calming. You tried your hardest to focus on that. “y/n… this is a confusing situation for everyone. But we would really like to talk about this. To figure out what happened.”

“I- I don’t know what happened.”

“you don’t know?” Bucky pressed gently.

You shook your head, “no. there were alarms and lights and I don’t know what those things were or who they were or what they wanted. I just acted on instinct. I kinda think I blacked out.”

“and the rock shield?”

“the rock shield?” you looked up confused. Oh… OH. Fuck, your brain was scattered right now. “oh. Yeah. That.”

“yeah, that.” Tony bit back harshly.

“um…” you looked around the room, “I kind of have… powers?”

20 minutes earlier with Peter

“I’m gonna go.” Peter bolted out of that room. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see, couldn’t think. There were delicate hands against his shoulders and then against his neck and cheeks. For a moment he thought they were yours but then straight hair and hard eyes and… and your eyes were soft and not as business-like so this wasn’t you. Peter focused in more and saw Pepper standing in front of him.

“breathe. Peter, you need to breathe.” She was talking to him. Instructing him more like it and finally he began to listen, sucking in a deep breath and letting it out shakily. “there you go, keep breathing.” Her hands were cool against his warm cheek and it felt good, really good. But he was too keyed up after the attack and the adrenaline was still kicking and he couldn’t breathe.

“peter.” She tapped his cheek lightly, “listen to me right now. Breathe. C’mon do it with me. In and out, in and out, there you go, in and out.”

Slowly he began to fall into a rhythm and calm down. His shoulders dropped and his posture sagged and his eyes drooped slightly. He was tired now. The adrenaline was gone and now he was just spent.

“let’s go sit with Morgan. Your dads finally got her to bed and if she wakes up from a nightmare it’ll be good for you to be there.” All peter could do was nod.

Pepper guided him to the room with a hand on his back. She was sleeping peacefully in the middle of a bed that was slightly too large for her but adorable none the less. The edge barriers were still in place to keep her from rolling off and Peter found himself smiling at the sight. Pepper pushed him gently to the couch and forced him to lay down on it before settling in the rocking chair herself. She was happy to note that Peter was asleep within the next five minutes. Pepper just sat there and watched her two god children sleep away their troubles.

Now in the meeting

“You… you have powers?” Rhodey asked, dumbfounded and shocked.

You bit your lip and nodded, “kinda?”

“is it a question?” rhodey pressed, you shook your head.

“No sir.” You gulped, “I have powers.” You voice was shaky, everyone could tell you were running on false confidence.

“powers…” Rhodey repeated again.

Clint chuckled, “can’t say I expected that one.” Tension left your body at the light humor. You were always comfortable around Clint, despite his tendency to wreak havoc wherever he went. He just seemed so much like the fun uncle you always wanted, cracking jokes and easing tension despite the situation. It was nice… he was something you could focus on now.

“y/n?” You shook out of the trance to see Bucky staring at you, he had obviously been repeating your name up until this point.

You blushed harder, a shaky hand pushing hair behind your ear. “sorry.”

“I asked if you could explain.” You cocked your head slightly. He waved his hand slightly and continued, “I mean if you could explain how you got them.”

“oh…” You wanted to say no. Wanted to refuse that private part of your life that was just yours. Wanted to keep the dirty secret you always hated so much just that… a secret. “yeah, I guess if you want me to.”

Wanda stepped in immediately. “only if you want to.” You met her gaze, right… she could read minds.

“No. We deserve an explanation for what happened out there.” Tony interrupted roughly, “we’ve known this girl for six months. She’s dating Peter and we didn’t know this about her? You’re not on any registry? Not in any news outlet? Obviously Peter didn’t know because he panicked his way right out of here. You can’t expect me to-”

“I’ll tell you!” You shouted, just to get him to stop. You couldn’t take it. You didn’t want him to list all the ways you fucked up. You knew it already, you were repeating the same list in your head. “I’ll tell you…”

“y/n…” That was Nat again. Ugh, you wished they weren’t so concerned for you, it would make everything so much easier.

“no it’s fine, really. I don’t want to burn any bridges or have you guys not trust me. I’ll tell you... but it’s kind of a long story, and not super pleasant.”

You could feel the air in the room shift slightly to something more somber. Backs straightened, eyes averted away from you towards inanimate objects, hands clasped together, people prepared themselves.

“I’m sure that when I started dating Peter, you all did background checks on me so you know a little of my history… but there’s a lot that’s not on there.” You took a deep breath, “when I was seventeen, my younger brother came out to my parents as trans and they kicked him out. He was only fourteen and didn’t have anywhere to go. I fought for him obviously which got me kicked out as a result. So we went to a shelter, I forged some documents saying I was 18 and his guardian so they didn’t call CPS.

“I started looking for a job to pay for us and a cheap apartment. Found this really shitty little rat hole for us but it worked. I slept on the couch and gave him the bed, but they were in the same room so it didn’t really matter. I got a job as an assistant at an engineering company nearby. It was honestly the best job I could hope for at the time: the boss was really kind, paid pretty decently, worked with school hours so I could continue going to school. It was good.

“I would go to this work after school and be the assistant for the CEO, he was this older gentleman who had the sweetest family and soon enough he became a sort of father figure for me. He never knew of my situation, I’m sure he would’ve done something if he did.” Your eyes grew a little misty at the memories. The others could tell how this was going to end.

“After about a year of working there, I was close to graduating high school and pretty much assumed college wasn’t an option for me. I still had to take care of my brother and couldn’t afford any books, and definitely not a university. But I accepted it and just got ready to work full time.”

“there was this one night where Mr. Frederickson, my boss, texted me saying I left my textbook in his office. And I wasn’t going to go back that night but the building was closed for annual inspections the next day and I had to get it back to the library or they would fine me, and money was really tight.

“Mr. Frederickson was still working and the nightshift had already come in, so it wasn’t sketchy or anything so I just stopped by the office to get my textbook, no big deal right? Well for the maybe… fifteen minutes that I was in the office, something malfunctioned and caused a big enough explosion to level the entire plant.” You sighed heavily, “fifty people in there at the time, I was the only survivor.”

Gasps filled the room. You didn’t meet their eyes, you didn’t want the sympathy.

“I was told that Mr. Frederickson survive the initial explosion but had too much smoke inhalation and passed soon after the first responders found him. I don’t remember much from it, I was knocked unconscious but the doctors said I got really lucky because I left with only a concussion and some lacerations. But… I got really lucky. It was a huge press field day though so I had to stay anonymous to protect my family… not that I had much family to protect. The police told me that their investigation concluded that there wasn’t any foul play and it was purely accidental which was good to hear, I didn’t want anyone coming after me or anything….”

“y/n…” Bucky’s voice was thick with emotion, “was this the Right Way Engineering Company?”

You nodded dumbly and watched as he and Sam shared a look. Sam sighed, “y/n we were there as first responders. I… I was the one who pulled you out of the rubble.”

“oh.” You squeaked. You coughed slightly, “thank you for saving my life.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. We didn’t get your name before the ambulance took you and we wanted to check in but we couldn’t find you in the hospital and the nurses wouldn’t give us any information…” Sam sounded distraught which didn’t make sense to you.

You shrugged slightly, “there’s nothing you could’ve done. I don’t remember anything so it’s not like I needed therapy.” You chuckled humorlessly

“So the explosion caused your powers?” Clint asked, humor far from his tone

You nodded, “I assume so. I never knew what they did in the factory you know? I just stuck to coffee orders and mail runs but I guess whatever they were doing gave me these powers.”

“And what are… what are those powers?” you kinda forgot that Vision was in the room with how quiet he was being.

“I can control the four elements… kinda like the avatar but I don’t expect you guys to get that reference.” You mumbled the last bit and missed the look of excitement wash over Clint and Bucky’s face.

“y/n…. you’re Aang.” Clint stated with a huge smile on his face.

Your eyes shot to his, “you know the show?”

“know the show?! I am an ATLA fanatic! I write fanfiction for it!” that caused you to laugh and suddenly you felt so much better. “why do you think I loved the nickname ‘sparky-sparky boom man’ so much?”

“wait is all the spirit stuff accurate?” Bucky suddenly asked causing you to look at him in shock.

“you too?”

“Oh yeah, Clint put it on my catch up list and thank god he did. Best show ever.” Little chuckles fell from your lips at the admission.

“umm not that I know of? And I can’t produce the elements like they can. I can only control what’s around me. So air is the most abundant but I rarely use fire.”

“I’m sorry… I’m a little confused. You can… control? The elements?” Steve asked, utter bewilderment across his face.

You bit your lip and nodded, using your fingers to send a warm breeze across his face. Clint giggled with a cheeky grin.

He whispered loudly, “best day ever.”

“so you pulled a rock shield over you and Morgan when you saw you were being attacked?” Nat supplied with a small smirk.

“yeah I guess, it was all pretty instinctual and fast pace. I didn’t even realize I did it until Peter started calling my name.” Your heart beat a little heavier at his name.

You forced yourself to meet Tony’s gaze once again, finding less intensity and more pity.

Rhodey raised his hand slightly, “I don’t mean to pry but Peter said he met you at college? I thought you didn’t go?”

“oh, apparently Mr. Frederickson put me in his will. I babysat for him a few times and got close with his wife and kids and grandkids so I guess he considered me family. I used the money to put me and my brother in a slightly better college apartment and went to Brooklyn College on a small scholarship. It ends up only being around $500 a semester and I have a job at the library so I get free access to books and sometimes they put my paycheck directly against my tuition. I’ve put the rest away for my brother to go to college. He’s going to graduate high school next year.” A small smile graced your lips as you said it. Damn, the kid was growing up.

“have you had tests done?” You hadn’t heard Tony’s voice in so long that it startled you.

You shook your head, “I tried to do a little research but it’s not like a common disease or anything and there’s no one I trusted enough to tell and it’s not like I have access to that equipment or the knowledge of what to test for.”

Tony just nodded slyly. Steve was next, “so why hide it?”

You shrugged and fiddled with a loose thread. “no offense or anything, but I wasn’t really interested in the whole superhero thing. I had to take care of my brother and myself and I didn’t really have the emotional capacity to worry about anyone else. Plus, it’s not like vigilantes get paid so it just wasn’t an option. And what else was I going to use them for? Become a travelling freak show and ultimately gain the attention of either you guys or bad guys and then get sucked into this life? No thanks. So I just didn’t tell anyone.”

“Does your brother know?”

You chuckled slightly, “no, he has such a big mouth. I’ve always wanted to tell him and it’s not that I don’t trust him, he’s just excitable sometimes and I worry it’ll slip out. Plus, the less he knows the safer he is.”

“y/n, we’re really sorry for how this all went down.” Steve suddenly said sincerely. You gave him a tight lipped smile. “I’m sorry for how I behaved, I was just shocked and scared and confused. You are more than welcome here anytime and I don’t want it to seem like you’re not.”

You were about to respond but Tony cut you off, “Peter doesn’t know about this?” You shook your head. “any of it?”

“He knows my brother and that we live together. But I think he assumes that was a choice or we had a lack of parent situation. I think he was just too nice to ask about it. But that’s it.”

Tony hummed as he leaned on his hand. “do you guys mind giving me and y/n the room?”

You stiffened slightly. Wanda spoke up for you, “tony is that the best idea?”

“I’m not going to scream at her. I just want to talk to her without you morons eavesdropping. Is that okay y/n?”

And how do you turn down Iron Man, Tony Stark, father to your boyfriend? “yeah sure.”

The avengers filed out dutifully leaving you and tony and a long table between you two. Tony sighed and stood up before settling in the chair closest to you.

“well first off, I’m sorry that I exploded on you. That wasn’t cool. Like Steve, I was scared for Morgan and confused and I didn’t know what was happening. I’ve had people in my life that I trusted turn their backs on me. I didn’t want that for peter.”

“I get it.” You nodded and sighed, “I really do. Ryan, my brother, had a friend tell a secret of his once and I barely contained myself to words so I can only imagine what you were feeling.”

Tony chuckled lightly at that before sobering up slightly. “I’m also really sorry you had to grow up so soon. No one should be a caregiver at 17 and it very well shouldn’t continue on until your 21 so I’ve got you now.”

“pardon?”

“everything. It’s on me. You make peter happy and you saved Morgan, it’s the least I can do. I’ll put you and your brother in a nicer apartment closer to your college and monthly groceries will be delivered, just let me know what you want. His college too, everything. I’ll take care of it.”

“Tony… I can’t accept that.”

He looked at you deeply, “You saved Morgan and you make Peter happy. We all love you. You deserve better and I have more money than I know what to do with. Let me help you.”

“I-I…” You sighed and then groaned slightly because you knew Tony, “I don’t really have a choice do I?”

He laughed and patted your knee, “not really. I’ve already had FRIDAY start up the papers and transfers needed.”

You felt tears come to your eyes and you couldn’t help it. Before you knew it, you threw yourself into his chest and wrapped your arms tightly around his middle. You sagged in relief when you felt his arms wrap around you as well.

It was nice. It was safe.

“You need to tell Peter about this though. And probably your brother.”

“I will, no more hiding from now on. I’ll tell them both everything.” You bit your lip as you separated from the man, “is peter going to be mad?”

“not even a little bit.”

And he wasn’t, to your relief. He just held you close as you cried and offered you comforting words. He also didn’t leave you out of his sight for the rest of the night, taking you home all the way to Brooklyn and then buying dinner for you and Ryan and then sitting with you as you explained everything to your brother.

Overall, it went better than expected but it was still something to get used to. But now you had this family, a supportive one for a change, so you knew you didn’t have to deal with it alone.

3 months later

“Is Kate going to be there?”

“can you chill out? You’re such a teenage boy.” You nudged Ryan as the two of you rode the elevator up the tower.

“well yeah, I am 17.” He scoffed in return

“yes, I’m sure she’ll be here. But don’t flirt with her too obviously or Clint will literally kill you. And I know I’ve been practicing with my powers but I don’t think I can save you from a master assassin.”

“rude.”

You let out a short laugh as the elevator doors opened, the two of you walking out towards the large training center.

“hey Ryan!” Peter called from his perch on the roof with a small wave. That is until a net arrow was quickly shot his way and he had to jump out of the way. Your eyes travelled to Kate who was using your boyfriend as a human target practice, much to Clint’s chagrin.

“remember to use double release on opponents who are quick, it’ll make it easier to trap them.” He turned to you with a grin, “think fast.” In a blink he had his arrow drawn and let it fly right towards your face, your arm immediately going up to protect you and your brother with a slab of rock.

You lowered it with a grimace, “you’re going to kill me one of these days.”

“then get better.”

Ryan leaned closer and nudged you, “thank you so much for boning an avenger. This is the best.”

You shoved him lightly with a laugh, “you’re the worst.” But yeah… this kinda was the best.

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back-and-totheleft · 3 years

Text

“I’m not sure I’ve modified my thinking”

“It’s a strange place, England,” Oliver Stone informs me at the start of our Zoom call. “You’ve managed to make it worse than it was,” he says, speaking from his home in Los Angeles. “You’ve turned it into World War Two with your attitudes over there. The English love punishment, it’s part of their make-up.”

You sure know how to break the ice, Mr Stone. It’s a slightly galling accusation, given that he has hitched his wagon to Russia, hardly a paragon of enlightenment. The New York-born writer-director has never shied from ruffling feathers, though. Stone has taken on the American establishment to thrilling effect in his movies, from Platoon to Born on the Fourth of July, JFK to W, Salvador to Snowden, and still emerged with three Oscars. And he has admiringly interviewed a string of figures whose relations with Uncle Sam have rarely been cosy, including Fidel Castro, Hugo Chávez and Vladimir Putin. Those had more mixed receptions, as has his support for Julian Assange.

Yet at 74 he is still a thorn in the side of the military-industrial complex and is set to remain one for some time, having just had his second shot of Covid vaccine. This being Stone, he got his jab in Russia. A recent trial showed the Sputnik V vaccine he was given to have 92 per cent efficacy and he’s palpably delighted. Angry too, of course. “It’s strange how the US ignores that. It’s a strange bias they have against all things Russian,” he says. “I do believe it’s your best vaccine on the market, actually,” he adds, sounding weirdly Trump-like.

If his bullishness is still intact, Stone reveals a more vulnerable side in his recent memoir, Chasing the Light. The book, which he discusses in an online Q&A tonight, goes a long way to explaining his distrust of government, society and, well, pretty much everything. There are visceral accounts of him fighting in Vietnam, and fighting to get Salvador and Platoon made. “The war was lodged away in a compartment, and I made films about it,” he says. “Sometimes I have a dream that I’ve been drafted and sent back there.”

The crucial event in the book, though, is his parents’ divorce when he was 15. Stone realises now that his conservative Jewish-American father and glamorous French mother were ill-suited. Both had affairs. What really stung was the way he was told about their split: over the phone by a family friend while he was at boarding school. “It was very cold, very English,” he says. “I say English because everything about boarding school invokes the old England.” He’s really got it in for us today.

With no siblings, he says, “I had no family after that divorce. It was over. The three of us split up.” His world view stemmed from his parents being in denial about their incompatibility, he writes in the book: “Children like me are born out of that original lie. And nobody can ever be trusted again.”

That disillusionment took a few years to show itself. “All of a sudden, I just had a collapse,” Stone says. He had been admitted to Yale University but his father’s alma mater suddenly felt like part of the problem. He felt suicidal and sidestepped those thoughts by enlisting to fight in Vietnam, putting the choice of him dying into other hands.

The Stone in the book was described by one reviewer as his most sympathetic character. “It’s true probably because it’s a novel,” he says. Well, technically it’s an autobiography, but it’s a telling mistake. Fact and fiction can blur in his work, from the demonisation of Turks in Midnight Express (he wrote the screenplay) to the conspiracy theories in JFK.

Writing the book allowed him to put himself into the story, something he says he’s never been able to do in his films. He has tried. He wrote a screenplay, White Lies, in which a child of divorce repeats his parents’ mistakes, as Stone has. “I had two divorces in my life [from the Lebanese-born Najwa Sarkis and Elizabeth Burkit Cox, who worked as a “spiritual advisor” on his films] and I’m on my third marriage, which I’m very happy in.” He and Sun-jung Jung, who is from South Korea, have been together for more than 25 years. They have a grown-up daughter, Tara, and he has two sons, Sean and Michael, from his marriage to Cox.

White Lies is on ice for now. “It’s hard to get those kinds of things done,” Stone says wearily. Will he make another feature? It’s been documentaries recently, the last two on the Ukraine. “I don’t know. It’s a question of energy. In the old days, there would be a studio you’d have a relationship with, and they’d have to trust you to a certain degree. And that doesn’t exist any more.”

He thinks back to the big beasts of his early years. Alan Parker, who directed Midnight Express; John Daly, who produced Salvador and Platoon; Robert Bolt, who taught him about screenwriting. “Those three Englishmen had a lot to do with my successes,” he says. I think he feels bad about all the limey bashing. “John was a tough cockney, but I liked him a lot.” He liked him more than Parker, whom he describes as “cold” with a “serious chip on his shoulder.” He smiles. “Sure. Alan did a good job with Midnight Express, though.”

You wonder if Netflix could come to Stone’s rescue. They have given generous backing to big-name directors, from David Fincher to Martin Scorsese, Stone’s old tutor at NYU film school. Surely they would welcome him? “Well, that’s why you’re not in charge! Netflix is very engineering driven. Subject matter such as [White Lies] might register low on a demographic.”

Isn’t he also working on a JFK documentary, Destiny Betrayed? That could do better with the Netflix algorithms. “I’m having problems with that too. Americans were so concerned with Trump, I don’t know that they wanted to hear about some of the facts behind the Kennedy killing. They don’t recognise that there’s a connection between 1963 and now, that pretty much all the screws came loose when they did that in ’63.” He smiles. “I know you think I’m nuts.”

Well no, but you do wonder at his unwavering conviction that there was a conspiracy to murder Kennedy, probably involving the CIA. JFK is a big reason why a majority of Americans believe in a conspiracy and, according to Stone, led to the establishment of the Assassination Records Review Board, which he claims is “the only piece of legislation in this country that ever came out of a film.”

Yet several serious studies, including a 1,600-page book, Reclaiming History, by the former prosecutor Vincent Bugliosi, conclude that Lee Harvey Oswald acted alone. That book accused Stone of committing a “cultural crime” by distorting facts in JFK. “I feel like I’m in the dock with Bugliosi. I didn’t like his book at all,” Stone says. “Believe me, you cannot walk out of [his forthcoming documentary] and say Oswald did it alone. If you do, I think you’re on mushrooms.”

Stone knows whereof he speaks regarding psychedelics. On returning from Vietnam he was “a little bit radical” in his behaviour, he says: drugs, womanising, hellraising. He recently took LSD for the first time in years. “It was wonderful,” he says. He hallucinated that he was “moving from island to island on a little boat”.

What was radical in the Seventies can be problematic now. He has been accused of inappropriate behaviour by the model Carrie Stevens and the actresses Patricia Arquette and Melissa Gilbert. “As far as I know I never forced anyone to do anything they didn’t want to do,” he says. Has he modified the way he behaves around women? “Oh sure, no question.”

At the same time, he is disturbed by “the scolding going on, the shaming culture. I don’t agree with any of that. It’s like the Chinese Cultural Revolution. It scares the shit out of me. I do think the politically correct point of view will never be mine.”

He’s not a slavish follower of conspiracy theories — QAnon “sounds like nonsense”, he says, as was the theory that Donald Trump was “a Manchurian candidate for the Russians. That was a horrible thing to do and it hurt that presidency a lot. I’m not an admirer of Trump by any means, but he was picked on from day one.”

What does he make of Joe Biden? “I voted for him, not because I liked him, but as an alternative to Trump’s disasters. He’s got a far more merciful humanitarian side. But he also has a history of warmongering.” Fake news, he says, has “always happened”, in the east and west, on the left and the right. “I mean, back in the Cold War, the US was saying Russia was lying and Russia was saying the US was lying. Each one of these wars the US has been involved in was based on lies.”

It sounds as if Stone has been on the Russian Kool-Aid himself. He is making a documentary, A Bright Future, about climate change that advocates pursuing nuclear power in the short term, and has visited some Russian nuclear plants. They are “very state-of-the-art,” he says. “The US is not really pursuing the big plants, the way Russia and China are. I believe in renewables, but they’re not going to be able to handle the capacity when India and Africa and all these countries come online wanting electricity.”

Putin liked the interviews Stone did with him in 2017, he says. “I think they contributed to his election numbers.” Wasn’t he too easy on the Russian leader? “That’s what some say. But I got his ire up. I did ask him some tough questions about succession. ‘I think you should leave’ — that kind of stuff. The pressure that Russia is under from both England and the US is enormous,” he adds. “Unless you’re there I don’t know that you understand that. Because you take the English point of view, and they have been very anti-Soviet since 1920. You talk about fake news — I feel that way about MI5 and MI6.”

You can’t help but admire Stone’s conviction. If he’s modified his behaviour that’s probably a good thing, but as he says, “I’m not so sure I’ve modified my thinking. I express myself freely. I don’t want to feel muzzled.” Whatever you think of him, be grateful he hasn’t been.

-Ed Potton, “You talk about fake news. I feel that way about MI5 and MI6,” The Times of London, Feb 8 2021 [x]

#oliver stone #chasing the light #the times of london #ptsd #the vietnam war #russia #Trump #joe biden #politics #vaccine

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