#i was trying to do the math so reader is 18 and price had her when he was 19 LOL | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

soaringthroughthegalaxy · 2 months

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hi!! just read both of your wrecker works and rineicbeijcwjkdjs LOVED THEM!! wrecker’s my fav of tbb and i really feel like he needs more love😭 i'm gonna be checking out some of your other works later lol

anyways i saw that you were taking requests, so i went through your prompt list and saw two that caught my eye. they're 24. “You need to wake up because I can't do this without you.” and 18. “I almost lost you.”

i was wondering if you could write something with those prompts for wrecker please? like tbb + reader were able to rescue omega, crosshair, and tech (i am believer in tech surviving season 2 finale), but the reader got seriously injured during the rescue and is now in a coma. wrecker would be the one to say the prompts and it would be angsty like wrecker thinking the reader might die. but please let this end happily.

other than those details i trust your writing skills and process for anything! take your time writing, there's absolutely no rush!! and again your writing is soooo awesome!!😊😊

Well hello there!

I'm so glad you enjoyed those fics, and thank you for popping this request in - so sorry it's taken me so long to write it! I had a lot of fun with this one, and I hope it hits the spot 😁

I guess it's also technically canon divergent now S3 is out, haha 😅

Through the Darkness

No one said rescuing the rest of the Batch from Mount Tantiss would be easy - you just didn't expect it to go like this.

Pairing: Wrecker x F!reader

Word count: 2.7k

Warnings: canon typical violence, reader in a coma for a bit, little bit of angst, but also dashes of hope, happily ever after.

Translations: sarad - flower

Hemlock has his hands on you, his blaster pressed to your temple. The sounds of fighting cease. Dead TK Troopers litter the floor. Wrecker and his siblings freeze, slowly lowering their weapons.

Your back is pressed to Hemlock’s chest, and there isn’t a clean shot at him.

“Anyone moves and your dear liaison will pay the price,” Hemlock states.

Rage flows through Wrecker. You were in danger, too far for him to grab and shield, and he had no idea what to do. He glances at his siblings – Omega curled against Hunter’s side with weariness painted on her face, Tech leaning heavily against Echo for support as his body protests the prolonged time standing. Crosshair had peeled off from the group earlier, searching for what or who none of them was sure. They were all back together again. A family again. He wasn’t about to let Hemlock take you from them.

Shakes start in your thighs, slowly creeping up your body until your arms and hands tremble, too. You’ve been in dangerous situations before, had your life threatened before - but you’re certain Hemlock would do it. The man is crazy and will stop at nothing to get his hands on your family. The sound of his verbal back and forth with Hunter is like white noise.

The slightest movement in the rafters above catches your attention, and your eyes dart up. Battered and bruised, Crosshair has found a vantage point and a rifle. Those hawkish eyes meet yours, and a silent conversation is shared. You do the maths. There’s only one way out of this. Thank the Maker you still trust him, even after everything.

You give an almost imperceivable nod, knowing he’ll catch it. You flick your gaze to the others, taking one last look, just in case. Echo, who’d joined you all near the end of the war and had so seamlessly slipped into the fold of your family. Tech, worse for wear after his fall on Eriadu, but with that same solid determination in his eyes. Hunter, the man who’d welcomed you into the squad all those years ago, listened when you shared your thoughts and didn’t make a fuss when you broke terrible news to them about the next mission. Omega, trying to hide her fear through bravery – so much for a young girl with such a pure heart to endure. And Wrecker, the imposing force of a man who’d always put himself between you and danger, who reached for you at every opportunity and consoled you when things had gotten too much – the man you’d quietly loved for some time.

With a shaky breath, you close your eyes, placing all your faith in Crosshair. The quiet sniper who’d at first sneered at you and flicked toothpicks in your face before he’d thawed out and helped perfect your aim, taught you how to use his rifle, and what to look out for when scouting.

The sound of his shot reverberates around the hanger, and milliseconds later, searing pain tears through your shoulder, pulling a piercing cry from your lips. Legs giving out, you crumple, welcoming the cold durasteel you hit.

You don’t know if they all made it out, but you pray they did.

Wrecker hasn’t moved in weeks, refusing to leave you alone. The memory of you being shot won’t leave him; the sound of your agony is stuck on repeat. You’d been in bacta for what felt like forever, the shiny skin on your shoulder a testament to its healing power, but it wasn’t enough to wake you from the coma you’d slipped into. Pabu’s only Doctor had insisted on removing you from the tank once your physical wounds had healed, transferring you to a standard medical bed.

Crosshair’s shot had torn through your shoulder, but the angle had been perfect. Wrecker hadn’t expected any less from his little brother. The bolt had exited you and entered Hemlock, hitting him straight in the chest. A kill shot. That hadn’t killed you. Or so Wrecker hoped. Even if you woke, your shoulder would likely ache for the rest of your life, and your arm would not be as strong as before.

The sound of the door opening pulls Wrecker’s gaze from your prone form and across the small room in Pabu’s clinic. Crosshair slides through the crack in the door, thin lips pressed together, brow pinched. He visits often, guilt in his eyes every time he looks you over. You might’ve okayed the shot, but it still tore at the sniper’s soul to have hurt you.

“Nothing?” Crosshair rasps, sticking close to the door as he glances between you and his brother. He’d never admit it, but fear was starting to settle in his gut. If you didn’t wake…

“Nothin’.” Wrecker confirms, shoulders slumped. “Been talkin’ to her. Doc said she might be able to hear us. Not that it’s doin’ much good.” He sighs, gaze shifting back to you. “Told her we all got out okay. That you and Tech and the kid are alright. Don’t want her worryin’.”

Crosshair makes a slight noise, acknowledging his brother’s words as his gaze lingers on your prone form.

“You stayin’ a bit?” Wrecker asks, using one foot to push out the spare chair at his side – the rest of their siblings often visited, too.

Hesitating, Crosshair lets out a small sigh as he moves across the room, lowering himself silently into the chair. He hadn’t stayed before, preferring to flit in for any news before disappearing. It hurt too much to see you this way, knowing he’d caused it. That and he was still working through everything that had happened during his time with the Empire, trying to fix his relationships with his siblings. But Wrecker needed him, so he’d stay.

You’d always hated the dark.

The shadows surround you, pressing in from all sides. Yet amidst the inky darkness, you find yourself standing in a solitary spot of light, its glow offering a semblance of warmth amidst the chill of the void. The lights kept appearing, and you’d learned quickly that when a new one glistened on the horizon, you had to run for it before the light you were already standing in disappeared.

You’d lost track of how many lights you’d chased so far.

Each one varied in intensity – sometimes brilliant beacons, other times mere flickers barely piercing the gloom. Yet, regardless of their brightness, they all held a magnetic pull, drawing you forward with an unyielding force. And each time you reached one, a brief respite washed over you, a fleeting moment before the next journey into the unknown began.

Scanning the horizon, you spot another light starting to beckon, its faint glow a promise of safety. With a heavy heart, you know what you need to do.

Taking a deep breath, you burst into a sprint. Each step forward is a battle against the darkness, its tendrils reaching out like icy fingers, eager to drag you into its embrace. Goosebumps prickle your arms, heart pounding as fear gnaws at your insides, but a stubborn determination fuels your movements. You can’t afford to falter, to succumb to the darkness, not after everything.

Worry lingers at the edge of your consciousness, a constant reminder of uncertainty. What lay beyond the lights? Will you ever find your way back to the world you once knew? The questions taunt you, echoing in your mind relentlessly the longer you spend here.

Yet, a glimmer of hope remains amidst the fear and uncertainty. Though the darkness threatens to overwhelm you, there must be a reason for the light. There has to be something causing it. Blessing you with it. Giving you these small moments of respite and keeping you in one piece.

You keep going. One foot in front of the other.

A shove yanks Wrecker out of sleep, and the big man jolts awake with a small yelp.

Crosshair snickers, leaning back in his seat, drawing his hand back towards his chest. “Sleeping on the job, vod.” He can’t help but jibe, his smirk melting into a frown at the sound of Wrecker’s stomach growling. “When’s the last time you ate?” He asks. He hadn’t wanted to wake him, seeing him finally getting some rest, but the sun was high in the sky now, and Crosshair knew it wouldn’t be long until Omega and Hunter swung by.

Blinking, Wrecker’s mind takes a moment to catch up with the fact he’s awake. “Urm, yesterday? Maybe?” He guesses, not really sure. The days were starting to blend together.

With a huff, Crosshair stands, long legs unfolding. “Will get you something. Can’t wither away before she wakes.” He mutters, grateful for the opportunity to leave and not have to sit any longer in silence with his feelings – he’d done enough of that for the day.

With a slight nod of appreciation, Wrecker watches as Crosshair heads out the door, hearing the gentle click of it shutting behind him. Hand wiping over his face, Wrecker shifts in the chair, stretching a little. But he can’t avoid the inevitable forever, and although it pains him, he looks you over for what feels like the millionth time.

Despite his imposing stature, he feels powerless.

He hadn’t been able to protect you - the woman he loves. He’s loved you since the moment he first met you in the hanger of a Venator, as you’d been assigned to him and his brothers as their liaison. You’d offered them a smile that had rendered him speechless, and his booming laughter had then filled the hanger when you’d quipped back at Crosshair as he'd sneered about them not needing a babysitter.

You kept them on their toes and blended in so seamlessly with their chaotic lives.

Without an audience, Wrecker clears his throat, leaning forward in his seat to gently take your tiny hand in his much larger one. “I hope ya can hear me, sarad.” He starts, voice mellow. “Been a few weeks now since we got ’em back.” He’s not sure how much you’re aware of, if the passing of time is something you’re experiencing. “Cross was just here. Finally sat for a bit. Think he feels guilty.” Wrecker pauses, brows furrowing, face pinching. “I feel guilty. Should have protected ya, kept ya close.” Wrecker’s voice cracks a little, emotion seeping through.

“We’re all here, though. Ain’t leavin’ ya, no matter what. Can’t wait for ya to wake up and tell us all how much trouble we’re in.” He chuckles softly, a hint of sadness in the sound. “Just...ya need to wake up ’cause I can’t do this without you.” He admits, a well of emotion pressing down on his chest.

Wrecker’s words hang heavy in the air, the weight of his emotions palpable even in the silence of the clinic. He wishes he could shake this feeling of helplessness and do more than just sit by your side, waiting for a sign of life. But for now, all he can offer is his unwavering presence and a steady stream of conversation, hoping against hope that somewhere within your subconscious, you can hear him.

Keep going. You need to keep going.

The darkness claws at you, desperate to slow you down and draw you into its embrace. But the light grows closer with every step you take, with every thud of your heart as you race forward. Amidst your footsteps echoing in the void is the faintest whisper of something familiar.

No.

Not something.

Someone.

“Wreck!” You cry out into the darkness, feet faltering for a second as you recognise the deep voice. The darkness tries to take advantage of your momentary hiccup, but with a yelp, you pick up your pace. The hope that lingers in your heart explodes. As you draw closer to the light, Wrecker’s voice comes into focus. “Ain’t leavin’ ya, no matter what.”

With renewed determination, you push yourself harder, every muscle in your body screaming for rest, but you refuse to give in. The light grows brighter, its warmth now palpable against your skin.

And then, just as you’re on the verge of stepping into the light, a sudden force knocks you off balance, sending you sprawling onto the cold, hard ground. Panic grips your chest as you scramble, desperate to continue your pursuit.

But the darkness has other plans, closing in around you like a suffocating blanket, obscuring the light. Amidst the coldness creeping through your body, you cling to the memory of Wrecker’s voice, a lifeline in the darkness.

Body straining, you crawl forward, ignoring the pain and exhaustion, determination burning bright within you. You don’t belong in the darkness. You belong in the light. With them. With him.

Straining, you reach out an arm, trembling fingers skimming the edge of the light as Wrecker’s voice comes through loud and clear. “…ya need to wake up ’cause I can’t do this without you.”

The darkness recoils.

With a final surge of strength, you propel yourself forward, breaking free from the suffocating grip of the void. The light envelops you, wrapping you in its warm embrace as the shadows recede into the distance, getting further and further away. Relief floods through you, tears of joy mingling with sweat on your cheeks.

Head tilting back, you look up at the light, a bubble of laughter escaping as you bask in the glow. Eyes fluttering shut, you savour the moment. Yet this time, when you open your eyes, there’s no darkness or blinding light anymore.

You blink. Once. Twice. The soft hum of medical equipment fills the air. And there, beside you, is Wrecker, head bowed, the weight of his hand wrapped around yours.

Everything seems to freeze except the frantic thudding of your heart. “Wreck…” You whisper, your voice hoarse from disuse as you dare to hope you’re back. Really back.

Wrecker’s head jolts up at the rasped sound of his name, his good eye widening as he meets your gaze, your name falling from his lips as his features crumple, a heaving sob of relief escaping him.

You slowly sit up, wincing at the ache that shoots through your shoulder. It’s still tender, but the pain is nothing compared to the overwhelming flood of emotions that wash over you at the sight of Wrecker’s tear-streaked face.

You reach out, cupping his cheek in your hand, the warmth of his skin grounding you in reality. “I’m here.” You murmur softly, your voice barely above a whisper, unsure if you’re trying to convince yourself or him.

Wrecker’s grip tightens around your hand as if afraid you might slip away again if he lets go. He leans into your touch, his words catching in his throat momentarily before he stands, leaning over the bed to envelop you in an embrace, protective yet gentle, conscious of your shoulder. “You’re back.” He murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. “Thought I almost lost ya.”

Weak but grateful, you return his embrace, feeling the warmth of his presence washing over you, grounding you in reality. A lump forms in your throat at the thought of him worrying about you, thinking he would lose you. “Not going anywhere, big guy.” You reassure him, sniffling as you try to keep a lid on your emotions. “The others?” You ask cautiously, dread curling in your gut.

“All made it,” Wrecker confirms, arms slowly uncurling from around you as he sits back in his chair, hand scooping up yours so he can maintain some contact.

Your dread is swept away and replaced immediately by relief; this time, you don’t bother holding back your sobs.

“No cryin’, pretty girl. Please.” Wrecker’s heart aches at the sight, his free hand moving to cup your face and wipe away the tears.

You smile through your tears, overwhelmed by the flood of emotions. Wrecker’s touch is like a lifeline. “Sorry.” You manage to choke out between sobs, trying to reign in your feelings. “Just...so relieved.”

Wrecker offers you a tender smile. “No need to apologise, sarad,” he murmurs softly, his voice filled with warmth and reassurance. A bolt of courage has him leaning forward to gently kiss your forehead.

As Wrecker’s lips meet your forehead, warmth seeps through you, chasing away the last remnants of the dark coldness. He pulls back a little, his gaze meeting yours, and the air feels electric. Without a word, you lean forward, closing the distance between you as your lips finally meet his in a soft, tentative kiss.

And you realize that amidst the chaos and darkness, love has always been the guiding light, leading you back to where you belong.

Tag list: @clonethirstingisreal @starrylothcat @cw80831 @dreamie411 @issa-me-bry-blog @leftealeaf @isaidonyourknees

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docholligay · 2 years

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Doc what was the tragedy that befell your phone?

So back when I got what is now the broken phone, I had it like two days and was waiting for a case to come when something dropped out of the cabinet on it, shattering the corner. The front camera was fucked, but it otherwise worked and so I was going to repair or replace it in a few months. But things happen, I went to the uk, my glasses lenses cost 400 fucking dollars, YOU KNOW. And it worked! It was just... annoying. But we went on.

So today, I sit down on the floor to play with my daughter, and the crack goes all the way through. Busted. Tiny, tiny strip visible at the top, not even enough to see the time or notifications or anything. Basically enough to tell that the phone is on. This is, as you might imagine, both bad, and not good. I am, in a word, displeased.

I go to order a new old phone, same old phone as what has just essentially shattered under my ass, and then I realize it is a holiday weekend and I won’t have a phone until Tuesday at earliest. Hmm, I think, this is not good, and also bad. I could survive, of course, but I have an 18 month old child who is bounced from family member to family member frequently, and I am always the main point of contact and cruise director.

Fine, whatever, I go through and try to find my old phone, and the only old phone I can find is my old S4, which was, truly, the last phone I ever loved with my whole heart, but also has a serious battery issue. Whatever. I can carry around an external battery for the next five or six days. That it struggles to run internet is fine, I’ve already told people my internet connection is limited.

BUT NO I AM BORN UNDER A LUCKY STAR. So i bring in my pile of old phones, s10, s4, etc, and the guy is like...if you give me those old phones, we can see what the trade in value is.

Now to make this situation all the more hilarious my wife had fallen down the concrete stairs and broken HER phone naught but a few days before I did, but I had ordered her a new (old) phone express, so she is holding an old s10.

Her first inclination is to say no, because my wife is a creature of “that thing we had decided to do” and not what I would call a capricious or expansive traveller in these realms. I, on the other hand, allow luck to find me, and so I’m like, ‘Sure, what’s the worst you can say, a price I don’t want to pay?”

READER, IT HAD BEEN SO LONG SINCE WE DID A STORE UPGRADE, THAT WITH OUR TRADEIN PHONES IT WAS 100% FUCKING FREE. To get an S22. My phone was broken beyond everything, Jill’s was not, but, we got two new phones for the price of an old and some broken shit.

I AM A VERY LUCKY PERSON AND THINGS LIKE THIS ARE WHY I SAY I AM

So anyway, yeah, it was hot horseshit for sure, but I kept saying I would upgrade my phone and not doing it, so fate stepped in an assisted me in having a brand fucking new phone, not just to me, but actually new, which, I did the math, I have not had in more than 10 years, closer to 15.

SO FAIL TO WIN! We love it!

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youryanderedaddy · 3 years

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Imagine a yandere ghost who is cursed is trapped in the doll, so one day a family came to live in his house, but what the ghost did not expect is to fall in love with the couple's eldest daughter. Maybe this yandere ghost (doll) use the younger brother to get closer to his beloved...

I didn't really include the doll, but the overall idea is here ;)

Tw: nsfw, non - con, underage sex? (The reader is meant to be around 18, her brother is 16 - 17, but the ghost is 100+ so idk), (technically) incest, ghosts, possession, possessive/obsessive behavior, slight parental neglect ig

You knew it was a mistake moving into the old house up the hill. You tried arguing with your parents so many times about the mansion being hidden in the woods, so far away from any civilization, bringing up the fact it hadn't been bought for the last 8 years despite the insanely low price or the news about the previous owners dying in their sleep just like that, from "natural causes" even though they were an young energetic couple. But of course your worries had been discarded so easily since your younger siblings were ecstatic, constantly talking about finally living in a castle, which was obviously pushing it too far, but kids will be kids.

Your family was big, consisting of your mother, father, two younger sisters and a brother currently in his late teens. Your siblings managed to take all the nice bright rooms on the second floor so you were forced to sleep in the attic. At first it didn't seem so bad, yes, the place was dark and dusty, the space was limited, but it was a quiet spot and there were many interesting things left there to explore and discover.

The first week you discovered a huge box full of old books, medals, notebooks and different souvenirs from all over the world. The second week you found a few paintings covered by a thin disheveled cloak, most of them depicting a pretty young boy with golden locks and sad green eyes, dresses in an expensive silky clothing resembling what was nowadays considered an elegant suit. You didn't pay it much mind yet the miserable longing gaze of the kid haunted your dreams in the following days.

During the third week you noticed that things were going missing one by one. First it was your favorite lipstick, then your new dress, and suddenly your favorite items were gone just like that. On top of all, almost as if fate was tickling your paranoia, you could hear certain sounds at night that were too distorted be natural and too human to belong to an animal. There were sobs, loud and tormented, sometimes you could make up a few words in a language no one spoke anymore. You slept less and less each night, you could swear you felt someone's lingering touch on your shoulders, them gently stroking your hair and even pressing their cold unmoving lips on yours. This was usually the point when you opened your eyes and screamed in fear only to realize you were alone in the room. There was nobody there.

Still you decided to speak with your parents about the creepy events taking place in the attic. Much to your dismay they brushed your concerns off once again, laughing softly and calling you a scaredy - cat, going as far as to joke around about your "oh so creative" imagination getting the best of you just like it did in your childhood. But this time you insisted on holding your ground, almost begging them to take action and help you. At the end your mother decided to let you sleep in your brother's room for a while until you calm down, and as embarrassing it was to share a room with a hormonal teen, it was better than constantly being on the edge and losing sleep. Or so you thought.

The first night you slept in Steve's room nothing out of the ordinary happened and for the first time in weeks you actually managed to rest. The second night was blissfully peaceful as well and you quickly fell into a deep dreamless slumber.

The third night started well, just like the previous two. Your brother was tired from studying all day and went to bed early, giving you the freedom to relax a little bit before following his example. You could read a book or try to revise for your exam tomorrow, maybe even call your bestfriend and finally let her know all about your new classmates and just how boring life in the village was. But in that moment all these suggestion sounded annoying, nothing was interesting enough to hold your interest for more than a minute. Thinking about what to do next, you suddenly became aware that your body was tense and tired, but your mind was restless. After all you hadn't had time for self - care between the paranoia episodes and the fear, maybe it was finally time to do something nice and therapeutic for yourself.

You snatched a quick look at Steve and he was sleeping soundly, snoring from time to time, his usually angry face now calm and childlike. Making sure there was no one in the room awake, you finally slipped a hand down your pajama bottom until you felt the soft fabric of your panties. You closed your eyes and run a finger up and down your clothed sex, following the line of your slit. Your pussy throbbed at the sudden contact, the lack of pleasure in the last few weeks making it sensitive to the touch. You pushed your underwear lower so it hanged around your legs, and shoved one finger into your warm hole, enjoy the way your walls clenched around the digit. You flicked your clit gently, feeling it swell from the arousal, rubbing slow circles and pressing on your sweet spot every once in a while.

Your free hand went to your breasts, bare under the comfy oversized shirt, and awoke the cherry nipples with subtle pinches causing them to harden. You couldn't help but moan quietly as you decreased the pace of which you teased your hole and added a second finger in your pussy, fucking yourself on it. You were so focused on chasing your pleasure you didn't even notice the hand on your thigh pulling your own away from your excited throbbing core and replacing it with a big hard cock. Only once its head reached your tight entrance and pressed on it did your mind register the atrocious size difference. Your words stilled in your throat, the sudden panic rising in your chest, making your vision blurry and your cheeks rosy pink. You finally opened your eyes, your heart racing at the image of your younger brother towering above you with his member so close to entering your heat.

"Steve, what are you doing?" You whispered as you tried to squirm away from the boy, but he was quicker in pinning your wrists above your head in a deadlock. When did the male become so strong? Just yesterday he would ask you to open up his water bottle and help him with his math homework and now he was doing this...

"My name is Henry, my love." The voice was different from your brother's, lower and huskier, gentler in a way. You narrowed your eyes and observed the teenager's face, gasping as you noticed that his eyes had changed from black to green, yet all his other features had stayed stayed the same. You wanted to ask so many questions - who is Henry, why were your sibling's eyes and voice different from before - but you were quickly shut by one stern gaze. "I used to live here 80 years ago." The stranger started off with an unexpectedly soft tone as his grip on your wrists loosened. "I'm a ghost. I possessed your brother." He confessed calmly while you watched his pink lips part slightly with each breath as if you were in a trance before you found the strength to break your silence.

"Why are doing this to me? Why did you take my brother's body?" You questioned him manically, feeling like a confused little lamb sent to the slaughter, trembling and stuttering in front of a knife. Henry simply chuckled at your adorable dumbfounded expression and lowered his torso until his face was mere inches away from yours and you could feel his ice - cold breath on your warm red cheek. "Because I love you, darling." The ghost replied with a confident smirk that looked so weird and unnatural on the younger boy's face you almost gagged. Before you had the chance to say anything, he continued. "I've been wanting you for a while now, little girl. And with this body I can finally have you all to myself." You opened your mouth in a protest but your screams were easily muffled by a harsh kiss and a wet tongue down your throat. Next thing you knew the man had pushed your brother's manhood into your wet sloppy cunt in one sharp thurst and in your despair you had yelled for help once again, the ghost taking your whimpers greedily and shushing them away. Struggling was pointless.

In the next hour you were reduced to a sweaty whimpering mess of pain and arousal, fear and pleasure. The ghost was fucking you in a fast brutal pace while his free hand was playing with your clit, bringing you so damn close but never enough to send you over the edge. You were crying and your whole body was aching, your tits red from the rough manhandlind, your lips bruised and swollen from the rough kisses and bites. There were purple hickeys adorning your neck, belly and thighs and you went quiet in embarrassment every time you wondered how you would be able to hide them the next day.

"Please, whoever you are, let me come, I'm begging you." You pleaded desperately as you arched your back to meet the next couple of deep thrusts. Your cheeks were wet with tears and you could even taste the bitter salty flavor in your mouth mixed with your own drool and saliva. Upon hearing your meek pleas the man mercifully started hitting your cervix with each shove until his moves became sharp and quick, targeting your g-spot. You were so close you could feel your abdomen clench and tighten from the tingling sensitations. "Please..." You uttered weakly again, making doe eyes at your brother.

"Say you love me. Tie your soul to mine forever and I'll give you exactly what you want, beloved." Henry basically growled in your ear as he groped your breasts, squizing lightly the soft flesh. Your mind was so hazy and clouded you weren't sure how to respond so you just repeated the words easiest to grasp. "Love... you... forever, ngggh..." You muttered under your breath before moaning wantonly when the forceful thrusts finally sent you over the edge and your pussy clamped down in a big, satisfying orgasm. Your bliss was short - lived because soon the ghost was pounding into you again and again, keeping you too tired to move, struggle or even speak properly besides whimpering every once in a while. The rest of the night was a blur but eventually you fell asleep from the exhausting and the pleasure.

You woke up sore, your eyes red and puffy, your muscles tense and unnatentive. You rushed to look at your brother, but the teenager was sleeping just as peacefully as he did eight hours ago. One side of you was more than glad to know everything that had happened was simply a bad, terrible dream, while the other one still felt extremely uncomfortable and uneasy. You couldn't bear staying in the room any longer so you got dressed and went into the hall. Everyone else was still asleep and you felt as restless as if you hadn't caught a blink at all. You finally gave in to your paranoia and climbed the stars leading to the third floor.

You knelt on the ground where you had found the beautiful paintings. Those green eyes from your dream seemed way too familiar for it to be a coincidence. When you finally got a hold of your favorite piece, the one with the sad young boy, you had to cover your mouth to suppress the shock. There wasn't an aristocrat with golden locks on the picture anymore.

Now the one trapped in the painting was none other than you own brother, Steve. Instead of misery and pain in mysterious blue eyes, there was only terror in his tormented black ones. You screamed for the last time before you dropped the picture on the ground and ran away from the attic, the tears streaming down your face, but unfortunately, there was no escape from the restless dead souls.

#yandere #male yandere x reader #yandere oc #male yandere #yandere smut #yandere male #yandere oc x reader #yandere male x reader #yandere oneshot #yancore #yandere concept #male yandere x you #tw incest #tw non con

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 3 years

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dire, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: One fateful night. That was all it took for Jeon Jungkook’s world to turn upside down. One mistake, one lick to the face, and something between biology? a spell? and now he’s horny as fuck for a Dire Wolf. Who needs catgirls when you have doggirls, right?

warnings: rated M (18+) for language, world building, mentions of death, blood; eating raw meat; mentions of (species) discrimination and prejudice; violence; smut (fem reader, too much m-masturbation, m-receiving oral (ish?); saliva everywhere lol); non-idol!AU - werewolfAU; werewolf!reader x blond, human!Jungkook; switches between Jungkook’s POV and your POV; is JK a furry? you decide

tried to keep it fast paced during the world building, hopefully it doesn’t feel as long as it is haha and yes there’s a rap line cameo slipped in there hehe inspired by YOASOBI - 怪物 (Kaibutsu)

He shouldn't be out so late at night. He had lost track of time, stayed out too late, and now he was paying for it, running, trying to stay swift and quiet, keeping out of the streetlights. The sky was pitch black, oppressively towering over the city. The moon was high above him, thick and full.

A howl tore through the darkness.

The hair on the back of his neck raised. His breathing shallowed and he tried to move quicker, hiking to the tips of his sneakers, trying to avoid the fallen leaves. There was no one walking around. No one else would be crazy enough to be out this night. The wind swirled around him, as if it too was afraid, hurrying him along. Another howl followed.

And then another.

And another.

Panic rose within him, breaking out into a full out run, not caring anymore about being silent because there was scraping now, claws on asphalt, insatiable huffs mixing with growls.

This was why they had curfew on the nights of the full moon.

He was going to die.

Anyone in their homes was off limits. But he wasn't in his apartment, he wasn't home, and he was going to die, he was going to die, he was going to–

Strong arms grabbed his body from the air, dragging him into an alleyway. He almost screamed, but a hand clamped over his mouth, grip like iron.

A human hand.

He was slammed against the alley wall, brick cutting into his thick hoodie, pain shooting up his back, tearing it up as he was thrown down onto the dirty sidewalk. The body followed, flattening over his. For such a strong grip, the weight was not as heavy as he expected. The stranger was wearing a dark hoodie as well, incredibly oversized, similar black jeans to his, but it was obvious they were several sizes too big, swamping the legs inside.

He whimpered as his head was pushed into the brick.

"Silence, human."

The hand was still over his mouth but his eyes widened. The voice was low, grating, yet distinctly female. The other hand, her left, popped up and he saw the tattoo on the back of her hand, a number below a wolf symbol.

Stay away from the Dire.

The Dire were the reason he was running. The Dire were the reason he was going to die. The Dire were the wolf people that lived among them, too many to not be members of society, but hated for what they were. Essentially werewolves, but not as romantic as the folktales like to make them.

She reached up and lowered the face mask.

He could smell it on her breath.

Blood.

He was going to die.

He started at her teeth, sharp, pointed, a true carnivore, almost too big for her mouth. Still, he was surprised to see her mouth was mostly human, full lips, smooth skin. He thought all the Dire were forced into wolf form during the full moon.

"Stay still."

She licked him.

His eyes went wide, unexpectedly seeing her lean over, long tongue extended, slobbering on his cheek, all the way to his temple. It coated his face, the scent of blood and something else – thick, intense, and heady, unlike anything else he had ever felt in his life. His eyes rolled back in his head, entire body shuddering at the touch, thighs quivering. Her hand pressed harder against his mouth and she drew back, turning her head, waiting.

The snarls neared, then stopped.

"I swore I smelled human here."

Heavy, thudding steps. His eyes snapped back to see the shadows dancing on the wall. Huge, misshapen shadows. Multiple ones. The fear rose within him, but she pressed her hand down on his lips, shaking her head just barely. Her body was still on top of his, covering it. He was very aware of her weight now, firm, solid. He heard more noises. Rustling. Harsh sniffing.

"Ugh, let's get out of here. I smell a claim," came a deep, disgruntled grumble.

"We can take them." Higher pitched, a little annoying.

"Smell it, you fool."

A snorting whiff.

"Fuck, you're right. Let's get out."

Then the heavy steps bounded away, claws clacking on the concrete.

She waited until the night was silent for a full minute before removing her hand from his mouth. His face was still covered in her saliva. He raised his hand to wipe it off, but she growled deep in her chest. The sound tingled throughout his nerves, igniting them.

"Do you want to die, human?"

He froze at her cold tone. She backed up, hood falling.

Suddenly, he forgot how to breathe.

She had tall, pointed ears, fur silvery in the moonlight, with black tips. Her hair was wild, the strands probably thickened from the full moon. Whatever her usual eye color was replaced with bright yellow, flashing as she scanned the area outside the alleyway. She had a mole underneath her right eye, near the inner corner.

She sighed, standing up. A bushy silver and black tail poked out from under the hoodie. Despite her smaller frame, there was sheer power in her stance, an unmistakable predator.

"W-Why aren't you in wolf form?" he wondered out loud, breathless in awe.

She turned her head to look down at him. Something flitted in her eyes. Then her gaze hardened.

"How close is your home?"

He swallowed, shakily standing up, aching all over. He pointed. "A block from here."

She stepped back, ticking her head. Her silvery ears were straight up, tufts of white hair sticking out of them. They looked soft, pretty.

"Go home, human. The world will be yours when the sun rises."

She left quickly, light steps in her wake.

You shadowed him until he entered his home.

He didn't notice.

Dumb human, almost getting himself killed.

The Dire wolf people lived among them. Some had good jobs, worked hard, and even had respect from human society. But most had low-paying jobs, poor reputations, and were behind bars. Because at the end of the day, they were carnivores. They hunted. They ate meat. Most of the time they hunted animals in the forest, with one exception. Any human out during the full moon was free game, no reprimand. Any other time was considered murder, but the full moon was theirs. That was the deal between the Dire Alpha and the nation.

It was not a great deal, but that was the deal.

Even though the Dire looked human most days, a few things gave them away. The ears, the fluffy tail, the teeth. Some Dire had them removed, clipped, or filed, for style, in shame, whichever. But every Dire had the tattoo on their left hand, complete with the identification number. If you didn't have a left hand, the national government put it wherever it could be visibly seen.

That was also part of the deal between the Dire Alpha and the nation.

If you asked Jeon Jungkook, he tell you this deal was absolute shit, but there really wasn't anything anyone could do about it.

No one except the Dire Alpha and the government.

We all know the old ones are set in their ways.

"How much?"

Jeon Jungkook raised his head at the familiar voice. It wasn't as grating or rough as before, but it had a distinctive raspy huskiness to it that he recognized instantly.

It was the middle of the day, at the local butcher's shop. The air was frigid, mostly to help keep the meat fresh. The prices were cheap here, definitely cheaper than the supermarket chain.

He looked up to the counter to see a huge bag of meat sitting on the scale. Raw, red, bloody. The figure was wearing a dirty oversized black hoodie and jeans that were about four sizes too big, swamping the legs. Not that imposing, but there was something about that voice that made it imposing.

The left hand slid out of the hoodie and sat on the counter. Wolf tattoo, numbers. Nails painted black, a wolf ring on her middle finger with glittering, opalescent stones for eyes. Her pinky had a simple silver band. She hasn't been wearing those rings on that night.

The butcher curled his lip and stated the price.

Jungkook could see the weight from here. He did a quick calculation and furrowed his brows, marching up to the counter.

"That's twice as much as you charge me."

The butcher looked startled that Jungkook had cut in. The hooded figure was wearing a face mask but there was no mistaking the mole under the inner corner of the right eye, even if she had her normal eye color now.

"It's... it's higher quality meat!" the butcher sputtered, alarm rising in his throat.

"Oh, shut up," the woman spat, reaching into her hoodie and dumping bills onto the counter. "There's no need to lie. Dires can do math as well as you, human." She grabbed the bag from the counter, growling. The butcher crawled back in fear, hand fumbling for the knife behind him.

"Keep the change."

She yanked the bag off the counter and stalked away. Jungkook stared at the bills and shot the terrified butcher one last glare before he rushed out to follow. She wasn't that hard to find. The bag of meat was huge. It bulged against the thin plastic, almost breaking. Jungkook ran up to her, skidding on his sneakers and grabbed the bag from below, hoisting it up.

The Dire turned her head, raising an eyebrow.

"It'll fall," he explained, swallowing. She released her hand from the bag. The black face mask covered her expression but her eyes were visible. Careful, intense, not to be messed with.

"Do you want it, human? Is that why you're bothering me?" she asked. Her tone wasn't condescending or rude, mostly impartial.

"Uh, what? No, no, I was worried that the bag would break and the meat would fall to the ground and then you wouldn't be able to eat it..." Jungkook trailed off in his explanation. His nerves felt like they were on fire when she looked at him, even if they weren’t the same yellow color as that night.

Those eyes sparked with something unknown, squinting in amusement. There was a single bark of laughter, her chin lifting and hood sliding back a little, revealing some of her hair.

"Silly human, everyone knows dogs can eat off the floor."

She said it lightheartedly, but there was bitterness, piercing like venom.

Jungkook frowned.

"You're not a dog."

She raised an eyebrow. Reached up with her left hand, lowering the face mask. The wolf hand tattoo gleamed, dark despite probably having it for most of her life. The government probably forced her to touch it up every so often. His eyes widened as her face was revealed, nose, lips, chin. He remembered the intoxicating feeling of her tongue on his face. The way his whole body reacted, falling into it. Her mouth opened, white teeth sharp and pointed, but not as large as they were during the full moon.

"Are you sure?" she growled.

It was the middle of the day. Lunchtime. Her right hand lifted, reaching into to the bag. Jungkook's eyes grew wider as her fingers closed around a hunk of meat, blood seeping onto the silver rings she wore on this hand, an intricate skull with a snake coming out of its mouth on her index and a silver band with script on it on her ring finger.

It read...

FEED.

She gripped the slippery meat and pulled it out of the bag. Brought it to her lips and sank her teeth in, tearing at it. She even turned her head sharply to the side, ripping the uncooked muscle to shreds.

Chewed.

FEED.

Chewed slowly, staring.

"Best stay away from the Dire, human. They are not nice like me."

"Thank you," Jungkook blurted.

He did not know why he said it now. Now, as she was literally eating a chunk of raw meat in the middle of the fucking street, blood dropping down and seeping into the face mask on her chin. She was eating like an animal, probably on purpose to scare him, but all he could remember was arriving home and looking at himself in the mirror, her saliva stuck to his cheek and temple.

She blinked, slowly.

"Thank you for saving me."

She shoved the last bit of meat in between her lips. She looked thoughtful as she swallowed. Something seemed to be different now.

"You're welcome, human. I'm glad you're safe."

She held her bloody hand out.

"I need to feed. I would like to do so in peace, if you don't mind."

He jumped, holding out the bag of meat. She gripped it from the top and placed her left hand under it, supporting it as she took it from him.

"Um."

He lowered his hands. She looked at him with impassioned eyes.

"My name is Jeon Jungkook."

She tilted her head, a curious puppy gaze.

"What... what's yours?"

You told the human your name.

Not your full name. Just your given name.

Part of you still wanted to refer to him as the dumb human.

But he did say you weren’t a dog.

That was nice of him to say.

Maybe he should have been disgusted, watching her eat raw meat like that.

Then again, maybe he was desensitized, because many Dire ate raw meat out in public. At restaurants and such. Usually with some sort of utensil though, and not with their hands.

Jungkook wasn’t sure what came over him to be honest. He just kept thinking about her tongue. The smell. The saliva. The two Dires hunting him had called it a claim. He wondered what that meant. He took to the internet.

The internet scared him.

He put down the internet.

He stared at his phone, reading the words that he had looked up in the web browser. What is a claim? That didn’t work. What is a Dire claim? Jungkook found the answer on a communal website that defined slang words.

A claim is when a Dire wolf claims a piece of property as theirs via marking them with their scent. Usually, that property is a mate or a human used as a sex slave.

The internet was scaring him. That can’t be right. She didn’t have sex with him. She didn’t even attempt to or try when they met again afterward. She had spent the time eating raw meat in front of his face. She didn’t even give him a phone number.

“I don’t have a phone,” she said. “Such things are of no use to me.”

Who didn’t have a phone these days? He thought that was weird.

“If you want to find me, I can smell it off you. I will come. Or I will not.”

That was also weird.

But she was a wolf. So. Maybe not?

Jungkook did not have many interactions with the Dire. He met a banker once when he was withdrawing some money. Saw them went he bought groceries or went to amusement parks. The Dire didn’t really interact with humans. The Dire even went to different schools than the humans, so he wasn’t exposed to their customs. The education system didn’t focus much on Dre history or culture.

Also.

Sex slave???

Jungkook couldn’t stop thinking about it.

They must have been mistaken.

You could smell the human. He was thinking about you.

What was his name again?

Jungkook.

He was horny.

You snorted and went back to your shower.

Jungkook was in the middle of gripping his dick when he realized.

If you want to find me, I can smell it off you.

Was there a radius? A limit?

The words sex slave kept flashing in his head.

Could she smell him now?

He stroked his cock, slowly.

Maybe?

He kept going.

You were in the middle of drying off when you smelled it.

You raised your eyebrows.

You went back to drying yourself off.

Your tail was drenched with water. Sigh. Perhaps you would have to blow dry it before sleeping.

Oh dear.

He made a mess.

Could she... smell it?

No way, right?

“I can smell it, you know.”

Jungkook shot up out of his bed. He was shirtless. Fuck that, he was pants less too. He only had his underwear on, and the female Dire was standing in his bedroom, hood down, head cocked. His window was wide open, curtains flapping in the wind. Her fluffy silver ears were ruffling in the breeze.

It was nearly noon.

The next day.

After, well, the night he jacked off to thinking about her tongue.

She was fully clothed, in a giant gray hoodie and loose black pants, far too big for her. They looked clean, compared to last time they met. There was a black face mask under her chin, squishing her cheeks a little. As usual, her voice was a little raspy and husky, if not monotone.

“H-How did you… g-get in?” he sputtered, grabbing his covers and yanking them over him.

She raised an eyebrow. “This window, obviously.”

He stared at the window. How…? He was on the fifth floor.

“O-oh…?”

Her ears twitched, up and down. He watched them with fascination.

“Well. I just came to tell you that. That’s all.”

She turned around and placed her hands on the sides of his window.

“What are you–”

She turned back, lifting the hood up and over her head and ears.

“Good afternoon, by the way.”

And she launched herself out the window.

Jungkook’s eyes widened and he bolted out of the bed, scrambling to the window. He stuck his head out, looking down. Her sneakers deftly tapped windowsill after windowsill and she dropped down, landing on the sidewalk. She seemed to feel his gaze and looked up.

Tilted her head.

Then pulled the face mask up her nose and walked away as if nothing had happened.

I can smell it, you know.

He turned fifty shades of red and yanked his window closed, locking it, and drew the curtains.

The human had a clean bedroom. Shades of navy and dark wood. Pretty. A lot of speakers. Records. Did he actually play them or did he only have them for aesthetics? You knew humans these days loved aesthetics. It was trendy. That’s all they cared about, really.

So, why did the human do that last night?

You wondered.

Maybe he was desperate or something.

No.

He wasn’t that ugly. And, even ugly humans these days could attract mates. With personality. And such.

Maybe he was a freak or something.

Ah.

Yes.

Sexualizing the Dire.

There were people like that.

You nodded, accepting this as your answer and went on your way.

Jungkook stood at the counter of the records store.

He worked here most days as the cashier. The manager was rarely here. At this point, it was basically Jungkook’s store without the actual responsibility of paying the rent for it. Jungkook was fine with that. He liked talking about music, not fighting with landlords about the raising rent prices.

There were a few people in the store. A guy with dark hair and cat-like eyes, frowning as he looked even though he probably wasn’t upset by anything. He was probably just frowning because that was his default expression. Another guy with colorful clothes and an equally brilliant smile was browsing through the ’80s section. He looked quite cheerful. There was another tall guy with an inquisitive face that was inspecting the artwork on every single record. He nearly dropped them six times.

Jungkook was a little worried about him.

Also, he couldn’t stop thinking about how the Dire said she could smell his orgasm.

Or rather, his orgasm as he thought about her.

Maybe if he just…

Did it without thinking about her.

But that was impossible.

If he tried not thinking about her, then he would end up thinking about her. That was how ‘The Game’ worked and, fuck, now he just lost that too.

Sigh.

“Could I buy this?”

Oh, thank God, please don’t drop it again, Jungkook thought as he pleasantly rang up Kim Namjoon.

Should you eat the cheese?

You ate the cheese.

It was very delicious.

Maybe you should buy more cheese. You father did not like you eating human food. Every meal was only raw meat. It was fine, but boring. You could digest human food, but only in small portions, and still had to eat meat. You didn’t really have much chance to eat human food anyway. But you had bought this cheese out of curiosity. It had smelled interesting.

So, you ate it.

And it was good.

The human was horny again.

The human really needed to stop this.

You rubbed your chin. Perhaps it was the claiming. Still, he shouldn’t have noticed what it was. Humans couldn’t smell it like other wolves could. Maybe he was starved for intimacy. Maybe no other human had licked him like that. You frowned. Why not? He seemed attractive. Long, ashy bleached hair with strong features and pouty lips. He had moles too, one under his lip, one on his nose, and one on his cheek. You only had one on your face, the one under your right eye. He had tattoos, an entire right sleeve, all the way up to his shoulder. You liked the red eyeball one. That was interesting.

You ate another piece of cheese.

You wouldn’t have marked your scent on him, but it was meant to mask his human one. He was going to die if you hadn’t. You didn’t need to do anything other than the simple lick. You had a strong scent, only outdone by the Dire Alpha.

Your father.

You ate another piece of cheese.

The human was really wanting you.

Should you have saved him? You had saved humans before. You did it often, on full moon nights. You never had to mark a claim though. Every other time, all you needed to do was drag them to safety. They sometimes thanked you and sometimes screamed in fear before slamming their doors in your face. Odd. Some thought about you afterwards, but not like this. You father would not like you saving the humans, but you didn’t really care. You father was an ass to the humans.

He was kind of an ass to you too, but he was less of an ass to you than to everyone else, so you accepted it. You were his only daughter, after all.

The human was having a good time.

You raised an eyebrow and ate another piece of cheese.

Let him be.

What if he just…

“This is the third time this week.”

Jungkook jumped, throwing himself into the wall. He was standing in his kitchen, and the window was opening, the female Dire sliding in, hands first, then legs, too much fabric. She must have had a smaller body than her clothes showed, because the window was not that big. The hood of her blue hoodie fell back, revealing her silvery pointed ears. She was still wearing her black face mask. Dark brown pants. Dirty white sneakers all over his countertop.

“H-Hey!”

“Stop jacking off thinking about me.”

“What?”

She slumped down on the counter, legs hanging off the edge. Her ears flickered back and forth. It was early evening. He had been trying to decide on whether to make dinner first or, well.

The other thing.

Her tail slid out of the bunched up blue hoodie, slapping against the gray countertop. Silvery fur, tipped black. It looked really soft. He kind of wanted to pet it. No, he very much wanted to pet it.

“Human.”

Jungkook snapped to attention. He did not really know how to feel about her breaking into his apartment like this. He wasn’t mad at it. Just didn’t understand how or why she kept doing it. He could have opened the front door for her. She didn’t lower her face mask.

“You are distracting me with your constant masturbating, so I would appreciate it if you watched some other porn and did it to that.”

“E-eh?” He swallowed. “H-How would you know?”

She rolled her eyes. “Of course, I know. I told you, if you want to find me, I can smell it. What more want is there than sex?”

Jungkook blinked at her.

“Are all Dires like that?”

She tilted her head.

“No.”

Finally, she reached up and lowered the mask. Her voice was now less muffled, still husky though.

“Only strong Dires can discern who desires them. And most can only smell it when it’s sexual desire, driven by the need to mate. My nose is a little more sensitive.” Her fluffy tail thumped. “I can smell you if you are simply wanting my presence.”

She didn’t move from the counter. Just kept talking to him as if this was normal.

“Humans do not usually desire Dires. It is typically the other way around.”

Sex slave???

“And Dires frequently simply use humans for fun.”

Jungkook’s brain was still fixated on that weird definition he had found on the internet.

“But, in any case, pheromones are usually not compatible, so therefore most humans don’t even realize they’re not physically attracted to Dires. Which is probably why the segregation is so strong, even now.”

She was giving him a biology lesson and his dick was wondering is he was going to get any action.

“Anyway,” she finally said, raising one of her sneakers to place it on his counter. Jungkook winced. So dirty. He would have to deep clean that counter the second she left. “Go get laid or something.”

“I tried.”

She looked like she was about to get up and paused. Her head turned; wolf ears perked.

Jungkook’s cheeks burned hot as he shifted his eyes. “I tried earlier this week. I wasn’t… masturbating.”

No expression.

She raised her face mask to cover her nose and stood up.

“Human.”

Jungkook looked up at her.

“That’s weird.”

And she slithered out his kitchen window.

He didn’t even bother to see if she made it safely. He could hear her deft sneakers touching the wall before the heavy sound of her dropping down to the sidewalk.

From now on, you ignored it.

Humans were peculiar.

Maybe he was just… weird?

Jungkook leaned against the at the counter of the records shop, hand on his chin tapping his cheek. No one was in the store.

He never really thought about his sexuality much. He just did stuff when the opportunity arose, mostly because he was horny and the chance was there. He never noticed that everyone who was interested in him was human or even those he had a minor interest in were human. Why was that? Why didn’t he think about Dires sexually until that female one licked him like that?

And now she was all he could think about, which was weird because he never really thought about them like that at all.

The wolf people weren’t well liked by society and Jungkook, while not going along with it mindlessly, was definitely influenced by popular opinion. He stayed out of their way, took more care when he noticed a group of them congregating at the sidewalk, and did not have idle chat with them like he would with a human.

He bit his lip thinking about it. He did not like that he only noticed this now.

It took lust for him to realize that he had innate prejudice.

That was a little fucked up.

But better than never noticing?

Jungkook slumped onto the counter. Maybe she could tell. Maybe that’s why she acted so aloof and indifferent. Could she discern his emotions when they were close? He didn’t really know what was fact or fiction when it came to the Dire wolf people. He knew the Dire couldn’t turn humans like the stories. That was just a fable. They could eat them though. That wasn’t a fable.

He wondered how genetics worked. Could they have children?

Was he seriously speculating if be could have children with the silvery female Dire right now?

Jungkook blinked slowly.

Oh, fuck, what if he was weird?

You slipped your silver rings onto your aching fingers.

The wolf one.

The silver band.

The skull with the snake.

The FEED ring.

And now, a large opalescent gem inlaid with a star design around the stone, onto your right thumb.

Around your neck was a medium-weight silver chain, carrying the symbol of the family of the Alpha. The jagged diamond shaped like the full moon with a platinum plum flower pressed into the center. The pendant was over ten centimeters wide and hung like a weight under your collarbones.

This was a stupid tradition.

Still, you put it all on because your father insisted. You were proud to be his daughter, but this shit was unnecessary in your opinion.

You licked the back of your forearm, sighing. You were cleaning the blood off. The gash was deep, but it would heal. It was clotting quickly.

Unlike the other times you were outside, you had been previously dressed in a tight, short, sleeveless robe. Silver, with a black sash, and black shorts. Your tail out and proud, not hidden. Ears up and well brushed, hair braided back. There wasn’t much other clothing, because it all immediately got ripped off.

That’s what happened when you changed into wolf form.

You always wondered why the wolf form was always such a contrast to your human form. It made life somewhat inconvenient.

This tradition was stupid, but it was what your father wanted, so you did as you were told. And besides, you hadn’t wanted to marry the other Dire anyway.

You looked down at the silver rings.

The symbols of each family that had tried to present their suitors to your father. Five in total you father accepted to the ritualistic arena. And all five you defeated, now adorned on your hands. They were all different, from rich to poor. The simpler ones were from the poorer families. Your father didn’t care about family background, at least. He wasn’t classiest. Was that a good point?

Your father only cared about one thing.

Power.

If you were to be Alpha, then you needed to have a strong husband.

The point of the ritual wasn’t for you to be defeated. It was for you to be matched. If you didn’t want the match, you had to defeat your opponent.

Which usually meant kill, but you infuriated your father by only breaking bones until the other Dire begged for the ritual to end. He really hated that, but you didn’t care. The Alpha tried to kill them himself, but you always pinned him down, stopping him.

Your father never told you he loved you. You only knew he did because he let you pin him down and stop him, even though he could probably fight you tooth and nail and win. But not without killing his own daughter and he would never.

“They are strong, Father. You let them in this arena. The pack needs strength.”

It was fucking stupid to kill the strongest men in your pack on the sole basis that they wanted to marry you. Again, why this ritual was stupid. Your father saw reason, but not without losing his temper first and trying to kill them.

Again, why your father was an ass.

You checked the gashes on your naked body. They were clotting fast, a result of your Dire blood and Alpha family strength. They were nothing more than flesh wounds. The other Dire male was strong, but slow. He hadn’t been able to get a good hit on you and make you submit.

One day, you might have to kill your opponents.

You had killed before, executions for those that transgressed the Dire law. If a Dire broke human law, they were tried by the humans. But if they broke Dire law, they were tried by the Dire. And trial by Dire usually meant death. Your father made your carry out the executions, because you didn’t like killing. You felt a little less bad about it because those Dire were seriously twisted.

But once you were Alpha, you would have to fight those who challenged your rule.

Would you kill them?

Or would you let them live and allow them to keep challenging you?

You sighed. That would be very tiring.

It would be much easier if the Dire could listen to reason, but they mostly only listened to strength.

Why couldn’t you be courted like humans? Clumsily falling in love, doing silly romantic actions, nervously picking out gifts. Actually, most Dires were like that too. You were the exception because you were the Alpha’s child. It wouldn’t have mattered if you were male or female. The difference in strength was negligible when it came to the Dire. Your people were not like the humans.

You sat on your bed. Your room was black, with accents of silver. Black furniture with carved images of wolves everywhere. A high canopy bed, with velvet curtains tied back with silver rope. You had never untied them in your entire life. What was the point of them? Too ornate and too frivolous for your taste, but you didn’t pick out this décor. The Alpha did. You didn’t have much interest in interior design anyway. The velvet duvet underneath you warmed your naked body.

You settled down, resting your chin on your hands, legs curled around you.

You did not hate being your father’s daughter, but sometimes you wished your biggest problem was being horny and constantly annoying a Dire with your insatiable lust.

You breathed out and your head tipped over, slowly falling into sleep.

The human was still going at it.

Jungkook was pretty sure he was going to die.

Last time he thought he was going to die, he was saved.

But this time, it was not the night of the full moon and he was already ganged up by five Dire males who decided mugging him and kicking his ass was a great idea on this random Tuesday night.

Should Jungkook have given them the money outright? Yeah, maybe, but he had a bad day, snapped at the first guy and told him to fuck off, only for two guys to grab him by the armpits and drag him into the alley where two more were waiting and they were currently beating the shit out of him. He was fighting back, kicking and twisting, but it was still five guys and he was rapidly losing strength despite the adrenaline. He was a good fighter and he got a couple of good hits, but a couple kicks to the solar plexus and he was seeing stars, gasping, pain all over.

“Stupid human,” one of them cackled. “You should have listened like the weak species you are.”

Fucking shit. Was a rib broken? He didn’t know. His vision was clouding and his lungs were on fire. Why was no one helping him? No one could help him. He was going to die in this dirty back alley.

Don’t let her see me like this.

The roar tore through the night.

Like bowling pins, the Dire males were scattered, flung aside suddenly by a strong force. Jungkook crumpled, unexpectedly let go. A pained shriek left his throat as he hit the floor, his battered body further injured by the concrete. He could barely see, hazed by pain. The only thing he could see was a huge silver blur. He could hear better.

The sounds.

Gashing of teeth, vicious growling, the sound of ripping flesh as claws tore in, violent smacks of bodies being thrown around. Cries of immense pain as the five were thrown around like rag dolls by the massive silver figure. The voice, booming and intense, with the distinctive huskiness.

“Weak, pathetic creatures,” came the snarl, pure authority to the whimpers of the beaten. “Do you think you are strong, ganging up five against one? You insecure imbeciles, I will show you what true strength is.”

“P-please, it’s just a human!”

Another roar and there were the sounds of a slap and a yelp.

“You embarrass the name of the Dire. Get out of my sight or your families will have one less member to feed.”

Teeth snapped savagely and the five males scrambled away, whimpering and sobbing as they rushed out of the alley on all fours. Jungkook could hear the large form letting out huffs of rage and exertion. He blinked, trying to clear his vision. Silver fur tipped with black. Obvious, rippling muscle underneath the layers of fur, down to a bushy tail and canine legs, far too large for a domestic dog. There was a pattern on the wolf’s back. Some of the fur was white, creating the shape of a large crescent moon that went from the shoulder blades to the small of the wolf’s back.

The wolf turned around.

Large silver ears with black tips, elongated snout. A black nose, far too many teeth, and yellow eyes, with a tiny patch of black under the right one, disturbing the otherwise perfectly silver fur. Anthropomorphic, but with long, wicked black claws tipping each finger. Around the neck was a necklace with a circular pendant, jagged diamond with a platinum plum flower pressed in the center, five rings slipped onto the chain. A wolf with opalescent eyes. A silver band. A skull with a snake. A script one that read, FEED. A large opalescent gem with stars. The pendant and rings looked small on the furry chest, but Jungkook suspected it was because the wolf was huge.

He had never seen a fully transformed Dire in real life before.

The wolf bent down, breathing out. Hot, heavy, intense.

“Human,” the wolf said, voice deep but still recognizable.

Jungkook whispered her name, pain overtaking him.

“You should have called for me.”

He woke up.

Everything hurt.

He was in the hospital.

He tried to lift his head and look around, but he couldn’t focus on anything. It was like his eyes hadn’t been opened in years and they no longer knew how to process light. All he saw was a black blob at the end of the bed, furry silver splotches twitching at his movement.

Unconsciousness took over once again.

“You’re free to go.”

His parents picked him up from the hospital. They asked him so many questions, and Jungkook struggled to answer with his limited memory. He was worried for them too, asking about the medical bill, wishing he hadn’t been so stupid and put such a burden on them, but they blinked at him, confused.

“The nurses said everything was paid for already.”

What?

“They said someone brought you to the hospital and an anonymous donor paid for everything.”

You father found out you saved the human.

The five wolves had babbled, the little shits.

He was angry at you, but also proud you smacked around the five Dires like the bitches they were.

Still, you used his money to pay for the medical bills.

So.

He had you kill each one in front of their parents.

It was very unpleasant.

You told him that wouldn’t earn you much favor with the pack if you were killing them over a simple human. Your father told you that was your problem for saving the human. You could have let the five Dires kill the human and let them be persecuted by the humans instead of saving him and letting the Alpha decide the fate of the Dires.

“But then the human would be dead.”

“So?”

Your father was an ass.

“How are you, human?”

Jungkook mumbled in his sleep. He squinted and blinked as he heard the raspy voice. It felt a little cold. He could feel a slight breeze. He turned his head and opened his eyes.

The female Dire was looking down at him.

He jumped, but she pressed a hand to his chest, steadying him. Pain shot up his torso from the sudden movement. Her black hood was pushed back, revealing her hair and her large wolf ears. Face mask taken off, hanging by one ear. The hand on his chest was her right. Three rings. Gem on the thumb, skull on the middle, FEED script on the ring finger.

“I wouldn’t do that.”

His window was open. Of course.

She looked solemn. Worried. Tired.

“Are you okay?” Jungkook asked.

She removed her hand and brushed his hair away from his face. He hadn’t been able to upkeep the blond well because of his injuries. It was getting a little brassy. His mom came over every week for a few hours to help him out with house chores, but he bathed alone. He could still do it, slowly. His parents lived in a different province, after all.

“I am a bit disappointed you didn’t think of me immediately,” she said quietly with a small smile. “Am I only interesting to you when you’re jacking off?”

His cheeks heated. “U-uh…”

She lowered her hand to the bed. “Then again, you were probably too busy thinking about survival.”

She looked sad for some reason. Jungkook frowned, watching her look around his room.

“Have you been getting by well? Do you need monetary help?”

“Was it you?” he questioned.

She turned back. She seemed to know what he was referring to. “It was me.”

“Are you rich?”

She tilted her head. “Something like that.” Amusement flitted in her eyes. “Is that it, human? You want money?”

Jungkook looked into her eyes.

“Why do you always think you know what I want?”

The female Dire paused. Jungkook had been thinking about this for a while now. She seemed to have a fixed opinion of who he was, not bothering to learn more. She came and went as she pleased, as if she owned the place. She was not without some sense of entitlement. He didn’t know why that was, but he had accepted it because of his initial attraction that was still very much there. But he too, was disappointed. He was disappointed that she didn’t try to get to know him and simply observed him and assumed things.

She smiled a little. “I suppose it is because of the way I grew up.”

“That’s not an excuse.”

She chuckled. “No, human, it is not.”

“I have a name, you know,” he pouted.

Her smile widened. It was pleasant, not teasing or mean.

“Yes, Jungkook, I remember.”

“Why do you only come through the window?” Jungkook complained.

She crawled through the opening, hands touching the floor first before swinging her legs in, removing her sneakers and placing them on the towel next to the window.

“Because,” she said, patting down her gray hoodie. “I don’t like the door.”

“Why not?”

“The humans will see me enter.”

Jungkook pursed his lips. “It’s the same.”

“It is not,” she retorted. “If I enter by the door, your neighbors will have reason to question you, judge you, hate you. If I enter by the window, then they will only find out by being nosy and they cannot display this obvious prejudice to your face.”

“Someone will think you’re breaking and entering and call the police.”

“I will handle it then.”

Jungkook frowned. “Who cares if they hate me?”

“I do.”

She pushed her hood back and made eye contact with him.

“I care.”

She looked down at the laundry he was attempting to fold.

“You are terrible at that.”

“You have another ring.”

“Yes.”

It was a black stone with a bone pressed into it as the silver band.

“What do they mean?”

You looked down at it. It was on your left index finger. You were wiping the blood of the gash above your left eyebrow in his bathroom. He looked much better now, the human. Fuller, less broken than the last time you saw him. You saw some bruising on his ribcage, but he was mostly healed now. In contrast, you ached all over, wrapped up underneath the large blue hoodie you wore. The gash on your eyebrow had reopened when the girl in his bedroom had thrown one of his Bluetooth speakers at you when you entered from his window.

Well, to be fair, you had thought he was masturbating.

He made this confusing sometimes.

“I think I scared her.”

Jungkook laughed. “You did. She fucking ran.”

“Are you going to explain?”

Jungkook shrugged. “I could, but she was pretty drunk when she got on top of me, so I don’t even know if she will remember.”

He was naked at first, but he yanked on some underwear after you appeared. The first couple times you visited him, he cared more about his appearance, but as time went on, he seemed to care less and less. He was more worried about your cut that was already clotting.

“What do they mean?” Jungkook asked again, pointing to the rings.

“They’re trophies,” you replied, flecking away from dried blood into his sink. “From defeating the suitors trying to woo me.”

“Huh.” Jungkook watched you rinse off your eyebrow. “You can’t just get drunk and fuck?”

“I can. I just have to viciously beat the living shit out of them if they want to marry me.”

“Damn, every Dire has to do that?”

You lifted your head, water dripping down your face.

“No.”

You suddenly felt very heavy.

“Just me.”

Jungkook stared at you through the mirror. His blond hair was more well-kept now, ashy and light.

“Why?”

You wiped the water off, shaking your hand onto the sink bowl.

“Because of tradition.”

Jungkook raised his eyebrows. “Sounds like that tradition sucks ass.”

You chuckled. “It does.”

He scratched his nose. “Uh, so… Why did you come?”

You stared at the drain of the sink.

“Because you wanted me.”

You could hear the embarrassment in his voice. “But you, uh… never come during the act.”

You kept staring at the drain.

“You have a nice life, Jungkook.”

“Huh?”

You lifted your head, exhaling tiredly. You were aware he was watching you, but you were looking at yourself, at the cut above your eyebrow, at your own eyes, hours before bloodthirsty and violently gold, at the pointed teeth and the furry ears and the everything, the fucking everything and for some reason you hated it all, you hated it and wanted to be human, just like Jungkook, just be human and do dumb shit like have drunk sex with a stranger, but instead you had just competed in some primitive combat ritual with some male Dire who thought he was hot shit and wanted to be the Alpha’s partner.

You wanted to scream.

“I wish I could just get drunk and fuck.”

Jungkook blinked at you.

“Well, uh… I have some soju… and a dick, so…?”

He was relentless. Why? Was he even aware of it? You suddenly narrowed your eyes.

“Why are you turned on by me?”

Jungkook blinked faster, cheeks flushing pink.

“Uh… I don’t know?”

You frowned. “It shouldn’t be possible.” You turned around and tilted your head at him, inspecting his anxious, self-conscious expression. “All this, since that night. Since the claim.” Jungkook stiffened, but you figured it was because you were verbally analyzing the situation. “But the claim is my scent painted on you. It is a possessive action and should have no effect on the way you feel about me.” You placed a hand on your chin and walked out of his bathroom, still thinking. “Unless for some reason you reacted to my scent. But how could that be? You’re human. Sure, humans sexualize Dires, but it is more of a fetishization in most cases.”

You spun around, standing in his bedroom, where, ten minutes before, he had been in the middle of getting head from a stranger.

“Did you react to my scent?”

Jungkook’s eyes darted from side to side. “Uh.”

You waited.

“I don’t know what that means.”

You waved a hand impatiently. “The scent of the saliva. Is that what you think about when you’re getting off?”

Jungkook shoved his hands in front of his boxer briefs. Your eyes darted down at the action. Then you lifted your gaze.

“You reacted.”

“Uh…”

You moved your tongue in your mouth, producing the saliva enriched your scent. Then you opened your mouth and breathed out, tongue extended and glistening.

Jungkook crossed the room instantly like he was pulled on a string.

You shoved your tongue back in your mouth, startled.

“You do react.”

His body collided into yours and his hands gripped your arms, pushing your body into his. He was breathing hard, right into your face, eyes glazed, lower lip quivering.

“Wha… what happened?” he gasped.

You frowned a little, cocking your head. No one had ever reacted so strongly to your scent before. Sure, all the male Dires were supposedly attracted to you, but that was because you were the Alpha’s daughter and all of them wanted to be the Alpha’s partner. But Jungkook’s reaction was completely pure, because he had no such external desires that drove his attraction.

Just one weird night where you licked him in the face.

She was so close.

So fucking close.

And Jungkook could smell it, feel it, needed it.

“Uh… I know you’re trying to break down the science of this, but I’m really fucking horny right now.”

Her silvery ears flicked upwards and she raised her head to make eye contact with him. Was it his imagination or did her irises become flecked with gold?

"Oh, right. I suppose you are."

He frowned at that. She seemed to be contemplating something. Then she removed her arms from his hands. He let go, but the feeling in the pit of his stomach remained. Like he was possessed, like all of his blood was calling him to the Dire.

"Jungkook," she said slowly in that husky voice of hers. "Today is not a good day to see my body."

I beg to differ, he wanted to say, but she cracked her neck, holding up her left hand, the black stone on the index finger gleaming.

"I had a fight today, so I've got some cuts," she clarified. "Don't want to bleed all over your sheets and stuff."

"Oh." Right. He wondered how bad it was. "Are you in pain?"

She tilted her head, one ear flattening. Fuck. She looked so cute.

"No. Well, I am, but it's familiar so it doesn't seem too bad."

The ear raised again and she breathed in, eyes on him once more. No, he wasn't going crazy. There was definitely gold laced in her iris color.

"Let me smell you, Jungkook."

"Uh... sure?"

She leaned in, sniffing his neck. Jungkook was suddenly aware that he was mostly naked, but there was no time to think about that as her breath wafted against his collarbone, her silvery wolf ear brushing his jaw. Oh! It was furry. Well, yeah, duh, it was obviously furry, but he hadn't expected the contact. He stiffened as she bent down, sniffing his chest, tilting her head this way and that, not touching him except for the soft huffs of breath on his skin. It was not making him any less horny. In fact, it was making it worse. Hopefully she didn't–

She dropped to her knees and took a huge whiff his crotch.

Oooooookay, now that wasn't what Jungkook thought was going to happen, but he wasn't exactly complaining, but also it was kind of embarrassing because he was pretty damn hard now–

She shoved her nose into his clothed cock and inhaled.

He moaned.

What?

He couldn't help it! He was already horny, was midway in getting a blowjob from some random girl he picked up at a bar but spent the entire said blowjob thinking about her tongue, and then the female DIre interrupted by arriving, and after that she did that weird breathing thing that made his body all hot and bothered, and now her face was all up in his dick!

She nuzzled around, either ignoring or not caring about how he was grimacing, trying to muffle his lustful groans behind closed lips. Did he maybe have a preference for blowjobs over pussy now because of the whole lick-on-the-face thing? Maybe. Okay, yes, absolutely. Was this probably turning him on too much?

Yes. Yes, it was.

Jungkook looked down. Oh, fuck. It made him harder, seeing her face pressed into his crotch, eyes closed, nose buried in the crook of his cock and balls, silvery ears perked with interest. Her bushy tail poked out of her hoodie, swaying from side to side.

Was her tall... wagging?

She inhaled sharply and one of his balls pressed against the fabric, right to her soft lips.

His hips bucked into her face.

She made a disgruntled noise and pulled back, rubbing her nose.

"Sorry! S-sorry, it's too... a-are you okay?" Jungkook sputtered, very disappointed in himself.

She made a strange noise, hurrrmph, and sat down on the floor, pushing her sleeves up. He saw the scratches on her arms, cut up and slashed, but all clotted and dark. Did she heal quicker than a human? Her hands glinted with the various silver rings.

"You smell different than a regular human," she murmured. "Do you have wolf blood in your family?"

"Uh... no? At least, I don't think so?" Jungkook scrunched up his face. He didn’t remember any Dire present at his family reunions.

She pursed her lips. "Maybe it's a genetic mutation."

He wished she would address the fact that she had made a giant tent in his boxer briefs instead of trying to break down the biology of his desire for her.

"Maybe I'm attracted to you too? Maybe that’s why you smell different," she pondered. "But I can't really tell until I smell your orgasm."

Please, you're driving me crazy.

"Well, uh, that could be arranged... in probably less than a few minutes..."

She raised her eyebrows and looked up at him.

"Okay."

She placed her hands on her lap and sat up, opening her mouth. Pink tongue sliding out, white pointed teeth visible. Wicked, sharp, definitely capable of chewing on flesh.

Oh.

No.

This wasn't turning him off.

"Um... should I just...?"

"Onto my tongue, mhm," she said with her mouth open.

What?

"Er... this is kinda awkward..." he said, even though his dick was screaming at him to fucking do it.

She closed her mouth. "Do you need encouragement?"

Jungkook felt his face heat. "Uh..." He watched her tail sway slowly. "Maybe?"

"You seem hard enough."

He swallowed.

"You also have casual sex with strangers."

Yeah, his face was definitely on fire.

"So, what's the difference?"

I don't know, maybe because... the reason I have casual sex with strangers is because I can't stop thinking about your tongue and saliva???

Then it hit him again.

The feeling, the need, rising, all encompassing, like a flurry of desire overtaking him. Jungkook snapped his head back to see her tongue trace her teeth, coating them with saliva, the scent, the scent. He could smell it and rousing him instantly, suffocating the embarrassment.

"Y-You're cheating..." he moaned, his fingertips touching the waistband of his underwear, cock throbbing uncomfortably.

A single eyebrow raised. Playful. Ears perked, tall rising, eyes flecked with gold, the mole underneath her right inner corner a little scrunched from her smile. Mouth open, tongue glistening.

She breathed out.

Jungkook had a split second of – how weird does this make me? – before he realized he didn't give a shit and shoved his underwear down, right hand clasping his stiff length. Oh, fuck, it felt so good, even if he was only touching himself, because he could see her, her face, her tongue, smell the scent that had covered him that night. He stroked himself right in front of her face, grasping his cock firmly and pumping it, wincing at the lack of lubrication.

"C... closer, please..."

Her eyes traveled down. She slid closer, hot breath on his hand and the swollen head.

"Move your hand," she rasped.

He whimpered and lowered his hand to the base of his cock, holding it in place.

"A-are you going to...?"

Her eyes flickered upward. Smirk on her lips.

"You look like you need some assistance."

Then she collected the saliva on her tongue and let out drip down onto his swollen cock.

Ho-o-oly shit.

Warm, wet, thick, saturated with her scent, so erotic that his hand slid up to catch it and spread it all over him, his length, his balls, fucking everywhere. His head was clouded, his core was on fire, his cock was slippery, and her eyes were on him, blazing gold.

"Better?"

The scorching rasp faded on his equally hot skin.

Jungkook was gone.

His hand was moving automatically, closing around him and pumping fast and hard, breathy gasps leaking from his lungs, instinct taking over and consuming him, completely focused on chasing his release, staring into gold and peeled back lips exposing sharp teeth and strings of saliva clinging to the insides of her dark pink mouth and tongue. He whimpered in desperation, her name drifting out of his lips like smoke.

Her tongue lowered, dripping spit onto his bedroom floor.

"Jungkook."

Like a rumble, deep in her chest, a command.

The fire inside him exploded and he gasped, grabbing her head and shooting straight into her open mouth, coating her tongue, teeth, and lips. The force was so strong that his entire body shook, fingers grasping one of her silvery ears, pleasure shooting up his spine like lightning, racking his ribs. She growled low, tongue scooping it in, swallowing in large gulps, voracious grunts as she leaned forward, swiping her tongue on the head to collect the last bits dribbling from the tip.

O-oh, fuck, it was pure elation and ecstasy.

The high was so high that Jungkook momentarily forgot he was standing and fell, tanged from his underwear still around his knees, yelping as strong arms caught him and brought his shaking body to her chest. Almost possessive. Her breathing was coming out in harsh puffs, tongue still licking her lips.

She reached up and brushed his blond hair out of his eyes. The gold streaks in her irises still seemed so strong.

"Are you okay?" she chuckled. "People don't usually fall over."

"Uh... yeah..." His face heated at their closeness but, somehow, he didn't want her to let him go. He was much too large to fit in her lap, but she held him easily as if this wasn't awkward for her at all. "I don't usually, uh... fall over."

She hummed. Jungkook started as her fluffy tail brushed against his legs. So soft.

Silence.

Her breathing calmed, the gold fading. Her left hand on his leg raised and she swept back her hair, rubbing the ear he had yanked at.

"Oh, sorry... sorry about that..."

Her right hand was around his back and upper arm. She turned her head, face right next to his. He gulped. She lowered her left hand, placing it on his chest.

"Don't worry. I doubt you could do any real physical damage to me," she chuckled, caressing his skin.

Their faces were so close. If he just...

"So, uh... what are the results?" Jungkook whispered.

Her eyes weren't giving him any hints. He kept staring at the mole underneath the inner corner of her right eye.

"Hm?"

"Uh." Mole. Eyes. Mole. Eyes. An amused spark as she noticed. His eyes dropped down to her lips. "Are you... attracted to me?"

Wait.

She tilted her head.

The lips were getting closer.

"Unfortunately for you," she whispered. "I am."

And then she kissed him, soft and warm, a resigned sigh in her chest, her hand holding him close. She still tasted a little bit like his cum, but he could also taste the unique flavor of her, sensual and addictive. His hands found her hoodie and he righted himself, pressing back into her lips. She smiled, backing up a little. He whined, tugging her back, but she was stronger, unmoving.

"Jungkook," she said gently. "Maybe calm your insatiable hormones for a second and think about what I am."

He opened his eyes, gazing at her through his lashes.

"You're a fucking tease, that's what you are," he hissed, grip on her hoodie tightening. "You can't just give me a taste and not expect me to want more."

Her smile was frisky, but also rueful.

"Ah, I admit I probably shouldn't have done that." She placed her hands on his, silver rings cool in his hot skin. Prying his fingers open one by one, releasing his grip on her. "Perhaps my curiosity got the best of me."

Jungkook frowned. "You're not a cat."

She laughed. It was like a bark, a little husky, but lovely, full of life. It sounded genuinely happy, fading into light chuckles.

"Not tonight, alright? I'm all beaten up." She pointed to the cut above her brow. "It's worse under these clothes, believe me."

"I can be the judge of that."

She flicked his chest. He winced, rubbing the sore spot. Damn. She had a mean flick.

"Give me some time." She stood up, looking troubled.

"Okay."

He yanked his underwear back up as she went over to her sneakers, slipping into them.

"But don't take too long or I'm going to relentlessly jack off thinking about you now that I have more material."

She was halfway out the window but stopped, looking back at him with a raised brow.

"Jungkook."

She pulled up her hood.

"You're weird."

And then she jumped down.

"Yeah, yeah, don't keep reminding me," he mumbled, shoving the window closed and drawing the curtains.

part ii

masterpost

#jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook smut #bts smut #jk x reader #jeon jungkook smut #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you #jungkook scenarios #jk x you

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randomshyperson · 3 years

Text

Wanda Maximoff/Reader - Land of Thieves - #ChapterEight

GIF is not mine.

Summary: When you were a child, you swore that no matter how high the reward in your head, she could always count on you. Life as an outlaw in the west is not easy, but you believe that train robberies are still easier than asking a pretty girl to dance. Land of Thieves, also know as your love story with Wanda Maximoff in the Wild West.

AO3> Land of Thieves

Warnings: 18+, explicit language, explicit violence, slow burn, childhood friends to lovers, cursing, blood. Chapters Warnings: Slightly smut, panic attacks.

Words: +40K (i can’t do math sorry)

tags: @mionemymind

Something changed in your dynamic with Wanda. There was a tension, a longing. It made you hot and uncomfortable, hyper aware of her presence everywhere.

Even now, doing an activity as mundane as washing the dishes, while you caught a glimpse of Wanda sitting on a bench, cleaning her weapons with a rag, you tried to keep your attention on the chores, but your gaze returned to the woman a few feet in front of you, who didn't even look at you.

You wanted her to touch you again. And you couldn't stop thinking about it. But Wanda didn't seem willing to ease your suffering. She was torturing you, you realized. Maybe it was revenge, or maybe she just wasn't ready yet. Either way, she had you in her hand like a lost puppy, following her around the camp wherever she went.

Deciding that you needed to reclaim a minimal amount of control over yourself, you finished your chores, and headed toward Steve's tent, readily accepting whatever out-of-camp duties he had for you. Steve was surprised at your excitement to leave, but said nothing. He just explained that he needed a letter to be delivered to Stephen, who was no longer in camp. You offered to take the letter to the doctor all the way to town, and decided that you would buy yourself a new horse while you were in Saint Denis.

On the way back to your tent, you waved hello to Bruce, who was sitting by the campfire, cleaning his boots. He looked peaceful, and you expected him to talk to Nat about the two of them. He smiled and turned his attention back to the activity.

You took a jacket, and put on your holster, and your hat. You also remembered to take the little money you had saved from the last service.

Walking out of your tent toward the horses, you stroked the mane of your temporary mount. He was obedient enough, but you would sell him to add in the money needed for a new horse. It was strange to replace Knight, but it was unavoidable.

- Where are you going? - Wanda's voice sounded behind you, curious. You were slightly startled, and tried not to show your nervousness at seeing her.

- Saint Denis. I'm delivering a letter to Stephen, and I need a new horse.

- Oh, great. I'm going to Rhodes. We can ride together halfway.

Feeling your heart racing, you did your best not to sound too excited.

- Sure thing, Wanda. - You gave her a gentle smile, but she just looked at you with a glint in her eye that made your legs tremble.

- Good. - She said, walking toward her horse. You nodded slightly, and mounted yours.

You bit the inside of your cheek as you rode side by side in silence. It's been many minutes since you left the camp, and you are starting to get a little too anxious, so I decided to make conversation.

- So... what are you going to do in Rhodes?

Wanda looks calm as she rides alongside you, and she keeps looking forward.

- Steve told me to help Carol with the two families in town. - She says - As I understand it, she needs someone to infiltrate the Braithwaite mansion while she focuses on the other family, the Grays.

You nod with a grumble showing that you heard what she said.

- Be careful. - You ask, and Wanda smiles mischievously.

- I will.

You are silent again, and Wanda starts humming softly. You ride for a few more minutes when she speaks again.

- When I finish my work here, I'll meet you in Saint Denis. - She says, and you ignore the uncompensated beating of her heart.

- All right. - You say simply.

And then you arrive at the entrance of Rhodes. Wanda stops her horse right next to yours, and leans in to give you a lingering kiss on the mouth. You sigh at the contact, but she pulls away when you begin to properly respond. She smiles, and waves, riding away.

You shake your head, trying not to look like a complete mess, and turn your horse toward the road, riding all the way to Saint Denis.

Stephen seems happy. And you quickly find out why when his wife comes home while you are on the porch talking. Christine must be about five months pregnant, and you blink your eyes wide when you notice. She smiles, kisses you on the cheek and tells you how much you have grown, and then goes into the living room to put away the groceries.

- God, Doctor, three kids! - You exclaim with excitement, turning to Stephen, who laughs, leaning on the balcony ledge.

- I know, I know. - He says. - It was a surprise really. A good one, but still a surprise.

- And how are the girls? - you ask, leaning your elbow on the edge, looking at Stephen.

- Exceptionally mischievous. - He answers with a smile. - Much the same as you used to be, actually.

You laugh, turning to look at the city. You and Stephen are silent for a moment before he speaks again, now in a more serious tone.

- Did Steve tell you what the letter was about? - he asks without looking at you. You watch an elderly couple in the street below walk across the alley.

- No, he just told me to bring it to you.

Stephen lets out a sigh, you wonder why he is being so mysterious about this.

- He wants to go back to New Austin. - he says, and you frown, turning your head to him in surprise. - He wants me to get a big enough scam to get you all back there.

You bite your lips, thinking about it.

- Why can't we stay here? - you ask.

- This region is becoming civilized very quickly. - He explains. - The government is determined to put an end to outlaws in this place. Especially here in Saint Denis. The rich are moving here after all, and they don't like cowboys.

- From the look on your face, you already have a scam for us. - You say after a moment, and Stephen gives a sideways smile.

- Actually, you've already found my tip. - He says finally turning to you. - I heard about the two feudal families in Rhodes. They are sunk in gold in that place. - He explains and you raise your eyebrows in surprise. - The Braithwaites supply nearly all the liquor in this town. And the Grays own nearly all the businesses in Rhodes.

- This also means that they are dangerous. - You counter, and Stephen lets out a chuckle, but nods.

- Of course they are. - He says. - That much gold will not go unprotected.

- Do you have any idea how we are going to steal them?

Stephen sighs, running his hand through his hair to pull it back, and then leans back on the ledge with his arms.

- I haven't really thought about it yet. - he confesses. - But it will have something to do with their Moonshine, I'm sure. You will all be able to infiltrate the farms if you use the transport wagons.

- I see. - You say. - Write everything you know to Steve, maybe he can think of something too. - You are silent for a moment before you speak again - By the way, any chance of you participating in this job?

The man laughs lightly, denying with his head.

- I don't have anything in New Austin. - he says. - My whole life is here in the south. I can't risk leaving Christine alone to take care of everything. She needs me here, and I want to stay.

You nod in agreement. You don't understand the feeling that settles in your chest when you imagine what it would be like to have something like this.

- Come have some tea while I write my letter. - He invites you with a smile, and you accompany him into his house.

You keep Stephen's letter in the saddlebag of your saddle, not wanting to crumple the paper in your jacket pocket. You hug Stephen goodbye, and tell him to write whenever he can. You end up not meeting his daughters, because they don't come home from church until the time you left, but you tell Stephen to give them a kiss for you.

Riding towards the stable, you dismount your horse as you enter the establishment, while the owner of the place walks up to you looking excited.

- Oh, hello young lady! - He greets you. - How can I help you today?

- I need a new horse. - You tell the man as you hand the reins to the other stable employee.

- Oh, great. - He says and walks over to your horse, looking at it as if he were evaluating it. - Do you want to keep this one with us, or are you going to sell it?

- Sell. - You say.

- And the documents?

- No documents. - You reply, if the man made any judgment with that information, he did not show it.

- Of course this will affect the value. - He comments. - But I'll take it, yes. Come with me, I'll show you the horses we have.

You walk toward the horses stored in the stables. There are not many, but the breeds look good.

- We have Arabian horses, thoroughbreds, and appaloosas. - Comments the man signaling to the horses in front of him. - Oh, and we also have the big one there, a Missouri.

You nod, and walk toward the horses. They are all lovely, and seem obedient. You need one that is not so easily startled by gunfire, but you don't tell the seller that.

He waits patiently beside you, whistling as you look at the horses. You let out a sigh, making your decision.

- How much for Missouri? - you ask, looking at the salesman. He smiles excitedly.

- This little beauty is yours for $250.

You whistle.

- That is expensive.

The man lets out a weak laugh.

- Yes, yes. But it's a pure breed. - He argues without sounding aggressive. You can imagine how hard it is to keep a stable running in a town like this. - This breed is strong and lives a long life. It is also tame and loyal.

- That's fine. - You interrupt with a smile. - You can deduct the value of my horse from the price.

As you leave the stable, riding your new mare, you stroke her fur as you ride toward the saloon. You haven't thought of a name for your mount yet, you try to repeat names of famous figures along the way to choose one.

It doesn't take long to reach the place, and many curious glances land on you.

You tie your horse to the palanquin in front of the place, and walk inside.

It is crowded and noisy and everyone dresses very nicely there. You don't know when Wanda will finish the job, so you decide to play a bit of poker while you wait.

You walk over to the card table and no one seems to mind if you join the game. The dealer smiles at you when you pay your entrance fee.

Many rounds later, you have probably left the table with less money than you arrived with, although you have won a few rounds.

You walk toward the bar, and as you sip your beer, a man leans on the counter beside you, a glass of booze in his hand.

- Greetings, stranger. - He says and you raise your eyebrow suspiciously, without looking at him.

- Can I help you, friend? - you ask snidely, hoping he will leave you alone. The man straightens his posture, turning his body toward you.

- Just a friendly chat. - He replies with irony, taking a sip of his drink while facing you.

- Go have a conversation with someone else then. - You grumble as you turn to him, a mock expression on your face. But then he makes an angry expression, and puts his drinking glass down on the counter.

- Let's cut straight to business then. - He says. - You stole my money.

- I beg your pardon?

- The carriage you stole in Rhodes. - He hits back. - That job was mine.

You let out a dry laugh.

- What do you want me to say? I'm sorry you're not a good thief?

The man then let out a laugh, completely losing his aggressive posture.

- Damn, I'm messing with you. - He says. - Actually, I gave up on that carriage. And you should know why.

You are slightly surprised by the insinuation, but you relax your body, leaning your back and elbow on the counter, while keeping your voice low to prevent snoopers from hearing you.

- Who gave you the carriage tip? - You ask the man, and he smiles and rests his body on the counter beside you.

- It wasn't the same guy as you, you can be sure of that. - He answers in a teasing tone. You smile, waiting for him to continue. - My contact warned me about the carriage, but I declined the service. - He tells you, and bites his lips thoughtfully for a moment. - I didn't imagine that anyone else would accept.

You shrugged.

- There is always more than one person wanting to steal the same things. - You retort, making me laugh slightly. - But why all the secrecy? Just tell me what you want.

The man laughs again, finding your impatience amusing. He takes a sip of his drink, looking serious again.

- I found out the origin of the carriage. - He explains - But I don't have a gang. And I need company.

You laugh, frowning, and then turn to him.

- Just tell me what you mean.

- You see this object hanging below my holster? - he asks, and your gaze immediately drops downward. - It is a talisman from the people of Wakanda.

- The natives?

He nods in agreement, and you look away from the small embroidered circle strapped to his holster.

- I think everybody knows them as the Panthers now. - He remarks with a light humor in his voice.

- What does this have to do with the carriage?

The man laughs.

- I'm getting there. - He jokes before turning back to a serious expression. - The American government has gone to great lengths to wipe out the natives of the region. The Wapiti people have been practically isolated in the north of the country. - He comments with a slight irritation in his voice. - And the Wakanda, well, they barely survived with oil exploration. And then, when the war happened, they recovered. They're all over the country now. - He pauses to steal some of your beer, and you cast him an incredulous look, but say nothing. - But then, the government is civilizing this area now. And they don't want to share the land with anyone else. The wagon you stole was carrying the pay of a group of soldiers, camped north of here.

- I imagine they were not happy not to be paid. - You comment, and the man laughs lightly.

- Oh yes, that's for sure. - He says. - What bothers me is what they are doing in the north. I just found out that the army is assigning soldiers to destroy the indigenous reservations. - He states and you frown - They vandalize sacred areas and shrines, and steal the horses to prevent hunting, which consequently leads to starvation.

- This is horrible. - You say, and the man shrugs his shoulders in agreement. And then you fall silent for a moment, while you ponder what exactly he wanted. You bite your lips, before speaking again. - Look, I'm sorry about the whole situation with the Wapiti and the Wakanda people. But I don't understand how all this is my problem.

The man let out a wry smile, but didn't look at you. Then he finished the beer.

- Interesting last name you have. - He remarked. - Interesting origin.

You frowned, finally understanding.

- Don't you dare talk about my family. - You strike back in a threatening tone. It takes a moment before he speaks again.

- Your people need your help.

You let out a wry laugh.

- I don't have a people. - You hit back aggressively.

- Your great-grandmother was Wakanda, and your grandfather was Wapiti, you will always be part of that people, even if you decide to walk around pretending you're not.

Clenching your fists and locking your jaw in anger, you turn to the counter again, ignoring the urge you have to punch the man. You concentrate on your breathing, to calm yourself, while you can't ignore the fact that he was right.

- I'll let you think about it. - said the man, tapping you lightly on the shoulder. - By the way, my name is Erik Killmonger. Look for me when you change your mind. - He says before dropping a few dollars on the counter and walking out.

You sink your face into your hands for a second, letting out a dissatisfied grumble. It's been so long since you thought about your parents.

You didn't remember your childhood so well. But the more you thought about it, the clearer the few memories became. You think you lived on a ranch, you remember horses and sheep. And then you have this memory of your father showing you how to make a bow. You remember dream catchers in your house, and you swallow dry.

Feeling a hand on your shoulder, you think Erik has returned, and turn around with a serious expression. But it is Wanda who is beside you, she smiles, and you feel your body relax immediately.

- Hi - You greet her as you look at her. She looks beautiful, her hair hanging loose over her shoulders.

- You seem tense. - She says leaning her elbow on the counter while looking at you.

- My past is haunting me. - You playfully shrug. Wanda frowns with confusion, and when you explain it to her, she looks quite surprised.

- You never told me about your parents. - She comments tenderly. You shake your shoulders uncomfortably.

- It's a delicate topic, I think. - You confess. - It makes me sad.

Wanda held your hand gently, stroking the top of it with her finger. You smile for the touch.

- I guess... I just didn't expect it. - You say. - I didn't expect that anything related to my family would come back to me.

- You want to help them, don't you? - Wanda deduces, looking at you fondly. You smile and nod in agreement.

- But that can wait. - you say after a moment. - I'd like to spend some time with you now.

Wanda seems slightly surprised by the change of subject, and a little shy at the invitation, but she smiles at you.

- Where would you like to go? - she asks, and you bite the inside of your cheek as you think.

- We could just walk around town. - You answer. - Watch the sunset, then go to the theater.

Wanda laughs slightly at the charming smile you flash her, and then she nods.

You walk out of the saloon, Wanda's arm wrapped around yours. Your steps are slow, both of you wanting the walk to last as long as possible.

You chat softly about various subjects, mostly reminiscing about your childhood memories, like when you tried to tame Bucky's horse and he knocked you down like a bull, or when you and Wanda got a scolding from Potts when you arrived at the camp covered in mud.

Wanda's laughter made your stomach turn with nervousness, and you couldn't remember exactly when you fell in love with her. Part of you thinks it's always been this way, ever since she arrived in the gang with a grumpy face and worn boots, and an accent she'd lost over the years, you fell for her. Hard, fast, and immediately.

As the afternoon falls, you head for the theater. You are a little embarrassed when the box-office clerk asks you if you were a fan of the actors, and you tell him that you didn't really know the play, and he gives you an incredulous look. But Wanda smiles at you, and you just buy your tickets quickly.

You sit in the back, and you think you have paid attention to two minutes of the entire play. Wanda was laughing about the show next to you, and you held your breath as you watched her. She was breathtaking.

You didn't even hide that you were staring, although you felt your cheeks heat up when she turned her face to you, but Wanda smiled and matched the intensity of your gaze. The theater was dark, but you could still see her green orbs in the low light.

- It's not polite to stare. - She teases you by looking straight ahead again. You smile, and then lean toward her.

- I can't help it. - You whisper in her ear. - You're beautiful. - Wanda sighs, but doesn't look away from the stage. You step back, a shy smile on your face, and then you hold your breath when you feel her hand on your thigh.

- What are you doing? - You ask breathlessly as you feel her caress your thigh in a down-and-up motion. Wanda looks around, and then turns her face to you.

- You will be quiet for me won't you? - She asks with tenderness and malice in her voice. You feel your heart race. Wanda begins to unbuckle your belt slowly, and you look around. You are in the last row, hidden by the darkness of the theater. At least two rows are empty beside you and in front of you, and the play has just begun with a music number, and you would not be heard. Yet you shivered in anticipation.

- Wanda, for heaven's sake. - You said, but she just kept unbuttoning your pants. And then she brought your faces together and kissed you hard. Your tongue met hers at the same moment she slipped her hand into your pants, and you let out a hoarse moan against her, feeling your body tremble.

Wanda stroked your pussy with one finger superficially, making you gasp against her mouth. She smiled against the kiss, pleased with the way your body responded to her. And then she parted your mouths to deposit slow, wet kisses against your chin and down your neck, as her finger caressed you. You closed your eyes tightly, overwhelmed by the sensations.

Then Wanda penetrated your pussy, and you had to bite her shoulder to keep from screaming. As she began to move in and out of you, you whimpered as your whole body shook.

- Be quiet. - Wanda whispered in your ear tenderly, but it was hard to obey when she stimulated your clitoris with her thumb.

- Wanda, I'm goin' to... - You started to say, but your voice faltered. Your eyes rolled back in their sockets as she hit a particular spot. You were doing your best to control the spasms in your body, not wanting to make so much noise.

- I know, darling. - Said Wanda as she brought your foreheads together, and then she whispered against your mouth - Come for me.

You moaned against her mouth, and she only had to push into you once or twice more before you fell apart in her fingers. As you tried to normalize your breathing, Wanda removed her fingers from you, and lifted them to her own mouth, tasting you. You sighed at the image, and moved in, kissing her hard.

But then she parted your mouths, smiling innocently as she zipped up your pants and buckled your belt.

You were about to say something, but then the theater lights came on. The play was over. It took you a few seconds to get up, your wobbly legs not helping you keep your balance.

Wanda held your arm again as you left the theater, and you invited her to come back to the saloon, and rent a room, and Wanda bit her lips as she nodded in agreement.

However, as you passed in front of one of the many alleys leading to the saloon, you heard a noise. Wanda heard it too, and you exchanged a look as you turned your heads to get a better look. It was hard to see in the darkness of the street, but then someone was thrown forward, falling to the floor of the alley. You both let out a startled exclamation, taking a step back. But then you recognized that it was the same man from the bar.

- Fuck. - You grumbled as you released yourself from Wanda, rushing into the alley and hitting the assailant with a hard punch to the face.

You helped Erik sit up next, and grimaced at his bloodied face. He looked too injured to fight, and was leaning against the wall trying to breathe normally. And then the assailant was back, a silver knife in his left hand.

It was difficult to fight in an alley, but you dodged the man's attempts to stab you and then hit him in the face again. And when he bent over in pain, you disarmed him, throwing the knife away. The man let out an angry yell and jumped at you, knocking you to the ground by your waist. You let out a grunt of pain at the impact, and were about to raise your arms to protect your face from the punch he was preparing to throw, but then he was hit with a kick to the face.

He fell to the floor unconscious, and you looked up to see Wanda with a deadly glare in the attacker's direction. But then her expression softened, and she helped you up, a small smile on her lips.

- You're losing your touch, my love. - She teased you, causing you to roll your eyes humorously. You hurried to check on Erik, kneeling beside him.

- Hey, buddy. - You say, raising your hand toward his face, looking at his wounds. It's nothing serious, he must have been hit many times and it bewildered him. - You're going to have one hell of a scar.

He laughed breathlessly, and then coughed. And then you noticed that he had a hand on his chest. You frowned, as you lowered his hand to see what it was. An open wound was bleeding from his chest, you hurried to apply pressure.

- Oh, shit. - You exclaimed, trying to stop the bleeding. But you knew it was deep enough to have hit his lung.

- We're going to lose this war, girl. - He told you weakly.

- Who did this to you? Who are these people? - you asked.

Erik coughed up blood this time.

- Please. - he asks, reaching into his jacket pocket with his arm. He hands you a piece of paper. - Help them escape.

And then he closes his eyes, and his head drops down. You blink several times, trying to understand that he is dead. Your last connection to your family has been broken. Wanda removes your trembling hands from his bloody chest, and raises her hands to your face, making you look at her.

- We can't stay here. - She says in a serious tone, but her eyes are gentle. - We have to go now.

You nod, still in shock. Wanda drags you into the alley, and you go around the block. You say nothing, and she doesn't push.

As you get back on your horses, you hear the whistles of the city guards in the distance, signaling that they have found Erik.

You get on your horses, and ride toward the camp.

You think you are dying. One minute you're riding in silence beside Wanda, and the next, your vision is blurred, and you feel a pressure in your chest. You think you can't breathe, so you dismount, crouching down as you put your hands on your knees, reaching for air. All you can see is Erik's bloody chest and then the graves of your parents. You think you start to cry, but you're not quite sure.

And then, Wanda's hands are on you, and she hugs you tight, asking you to breathe. She brings you back to reality with gentle words and soft touches.

- I'm sorry. - You manage to mumble against her hair. Wanda shakes her head in denial, and says you don't have to apologize for anything.

She hugs you for several minutes, until you can breathe normally. When you look at her, she wipes the tears from your face.

Wanda attaches the reins of your horse to hers, and you ride Lily along with her. You hug her, laying your head on her back as she rides back to camp.

Despite the softness, and Wanda's low singing, you avoid falling asleep so that you don't fall off the horse.

When you arrive, you are feeling exhausted. And you tell Wanda that you need to talk to Steve and Bucky, but she insists that you should sleep, and drags you into your tent. And then she leaves, and doesn't come back until minutes later with a bucket of water. You are startled when you notice the dried blood on your own hands, but Wanda touches your face, calming you as she helps you clean yourself up.

When she is finished, she helps you off with your boots and jacket, only now you realize how sore you were from the fight. She gives you a kiss on the forehead as you lie down, but you don't let go of her hand.

- Wanda. Stay. - You whisper to her. You don't mind that the bed is tight.

Wanda removes her boots and you open your arms for her to lie on top of you. The pressure of her body on yours keeps you anchored, and you tighten your arms against her before falling asleep.

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wandaxreader #wanda x you #wandaxyou #Land of Thieves #marvel imagines #red dead redemption au

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shadesofjanuaryblues · 5 years

Text

Chiberia

Chicago.

Chicago. One of the greatest cities. THE Windy city.

Also known as Chitown, Chiberia.

I live here. Not directly in the city, but about 30 minutes out west, in the most basic middle class town. It doesn’t fall into the small-town category, but it isn’t a big town either. But basically, you go to the grocery store, and there is a 43% chance of you running into someone you know.

Well, let’s start from the beginning. I’m an immigrant.

I am pure-breed, one hundred percent Lithuanian. Born and raised. Well, I guess, “halfway” raised. I came here when I had just turned thirteen. Straight into the school-year. Eighth grade.

The middle school I went to wasn’t big. Everyone knew everyone. Obviously there were the popular, the “independent” friend groups, and of course, the not-so-popular. But I’m not here to describe the social pyramid of the American school system.

All you have to know, is that I was placed in an ESL class, which was created to help out students who have a hard time with English. This helped me gain two friends, which gave me a little comfort to go through the school day without having to cry in the bathroom during lunchtime. Hell, I was glad to have someone to borrow a notebook from.

Going back to the whole ESL thing: my family stumbled into the office of the school, merely 2 months after moving here, me having absolutely zero English skills and having not formed any because I was only surrounded by my Lithuanian speaking family, we were told that I was not going to be able to repeat 7th grade, and that I was going to be placed straight into the next school year. Of course, our pale flustered faces were accompanied by my second-hand cousin, who had attended that school as well, earlier on. Anyways, they put me in a class - for immigrants. FANTASTIC resource, don’t you say? Except the biggest problem was that my ESL teacher’s second language was not Lithuanian, it was Spanish.

Now you say, “so many people go through these classes, they learn English, like even you, you’ve been here for, what, eight years already? I can’t even tell that you have an accent!”

Yeah, yeah, yeah. Heard it all before. Yeah, truthfully that class did help me. Not to learn English, but to complete my homework. That’s it. Meanwhile I was in an English class learning the same stuff as the other eighth graders were. History? A bunch of foreign words and gibberish. Science? Oh man, don’t even get me started. Even PE? CONSTANTLY hearing shit I did not understand. Like pacer test? Do you know how much nerve it took for me to ask a fellow classmate what the fuck that was and how do I do it? To literally make a fool out of myself with my “broken English”? Even math. Slopes, fractions, functions? I had not even heard of those terms when I got there, and in eighth grade they weren’t learning it anymore, they were perfecting it. So many hours spent by my kitchen table crying.

One advantage American kids had, was that they could ask their parents. I couldn’t.

Well, in other words I did, but they didn’t know.

And the purpose of this whole written rant isn’t for me to shit on Americans. Not at all. It’s for you, the reader to realize or relate to the struggle immigrants have to go through. And many other issues that I’ll cover later, but this would be the first.

Comes the age 15, I had befriended a fellow Lithuanian, a year earlier, who helped me ENORMOUSLY with my English. Not only the formal language, but the slang as well. This friendship was beneficial to us both, because at this point she had been living there for eight years, and having moved here at an earlier age, her Lithuanian was getting rusty.

Anyways, at 15 I started setting up my first bank deals with my parents. In person I would introduce myself as their daughter, the translator. I was learning new banking terms in English and Lithuanian on a weekly basis. By the phone, I talked on behalf of my mother, I mastered the art of lowering my voice and sounding more formal, knew my mother’s social security number by heart before I had even really looked at mine.

By sixteen I was handling most of my family’s bills, loans, car payments. I was answering most of their formal calls. Later that year my parents opened up a trucking company. With the help of some Lithuanian representatives, and myself, the company was running. I went over all of the contracts that were signed in terms of buying a truck, leasing a trailer, safety and all other regulations (not going to get into detail). Then, I got a temporary job at another trucking company in the summer solely to learn how to dispatch.

I had to learn how to dispatch so I could teach my mother. My mom’s English was still very weak at the time and she was scared to go and learn it herself.

In other words I had no choice. I spend my summer mornings waking up crabby as shit, going upstairs to make phone calls with cocky dudes with egos breaking through the roof. “Illinois to Alabama, one pick, one drop. Potatoes. 750 miles, rate 950”. See at that point I was taught to shoot double, then lower it to the most reasonable price. “Where’s the pickup? Loose potatoes? (Requires a paid wash afterwards, therefore rate should always be higher- waste of money and time), I’ll take it for 1500”, “HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHa are you out of your mind, where have you even heard of prices like this? 1000, take it or leave it”.

Approximately 70 calls a day with one successful, if it’s a good day. Sometimes I’d be on that computer for over 10 hours.

My mom learned, she started dispatching, things got a bit easier. I only had to handle the “bigger” things. Claims, detentions and other shit like that. Stressful as hell, burned out most of my patience out by the age of 17.

At seventeen, I started rebelling. I wasn’t happy with my life, but I also felt fucking invincible. By then I had earned a bit of social acknowledgement, I guess everyone saw me as the bitch I was portraying myself to be. Reckless and bad as fuck.

Street racing, going 120 on the highway to the city and back, drinking in the forest in the car. Coordinating who’s throwing a party on what weekend, sneaking out and coming home hammered, only to sleep for a few hours and go about my day like nothing ever happened.

This lasted a whole year, shit more than that. I made a lot of good and bad memories, been places I really shouldn’t have been, but I don’t regret any of it. But guess where I ended up on Halloween night the year I turned 18?

Cuffed to the fucking wall at a police station.

Wow.

Who would’ve thought, what a surprise!

I’m not quite comfortable going into detail in writing, but if you know me then you know the story, and if not, ask me about it in person, I’ll be happy to tell you.

The one thing I want to put on the table is that it wasn’t drug affiliated, and not criminal.

However, I was facing jail time. But hey, I was lucky enough to get those charges dropped, and that was the biggest lesson I could ever have.

From that point on, I went to my court dates, reevaluated my life, and started rebuilding. I had to switch schools, which introduced me to new people, ended up cutting some off, and befriending new ones. Graduated, started going to the local community college. I was working the whole time, trying to make spending money, still helping out my parents with all the financial stuff. In college I was undecided, tried out a couple different options, they didn’t seem to work out.

Not this brings up another issue I have with the way society has been built.

HIGHER EDUCATION.

I ended up picking something I felt I had an interest in, and not what my parents thought would be good for me. I enrolled in the architecture program. I was doing great, I was able to keep my focus, I wanted to improve and was eager to learn new things. Finished off the first semester. Through sweat, sleepless nights, and tears – ended up with all A’s. That significantly brought my GPA up.

By the second semester, I was ready. I was excited, because at this point we were actually starting to be able to create. This had to be my favorite part, because I consider myself relatively creative, I constantly have random ideas flowing in my head. It’s kind of like slight madness.

Anyways, when we started, my architecture program coordinator was teaching one of the classes. By that time I had already formed a professional relationship with her, she was very helpful and gave enormously valuable advice. Every project we did, I put my heart and my soul into. There weren’t any major guidelines, yet I kept being told to simplify my work. I kept being told to change it up, almost so I would blend into the other projects hanging up beside mine. I talked to my professor, she complimented my creativity, she said she hasn’t seen this much creativity and thought in a very long time, yet I still had to change it, and simplify it.

I don’t blame her, or anyone, really, but I felt myself get more and more suppressed. I felt like I had to fit into a basic box that’s been designed by someone else. I accepted it, decided to move forward. Life is all about compromise, isn’t it?

But then, in the middle of my somewhat peaceful life…

….I found out my mom was having an affair.

It’s almost like being practically the head of the family, I finally stepped a couple steps down and within a few blinks everything went to shit.

Wow, I can’t even describe you how I felt, truly broken. Like even worse, I felt like family was ripped out of my hands.

I tend to rely heavily on friends and family, and these two really are the only thing that kept me alive throughout all those years. And just like that, it’s gone.

The day I found out, I had been driving to the mall with my mom. I was putting a song on thru her phone, when a text message came in. I recognized the number, I had asked her about it roughly 4 months ago. She told me it was nothing, just some stupid guy hitting on her, and that she blocked his number. During that car ride, looking out the window I realized that all those evening yoga classes weren’t really even yoga after all. Shit hit me hard. But what I managed to blurt out was “I’m going to pretend I didn’t see this, so that we have one good last day, and I will deal with this tomorrow”.

Fast forward over the next month or so, listening to my mother’s lies, and my dad’s psychosis trying to vent to me, I lost my mind. Actually, this time. I lost it. I dropped out of school after numerous failed attempts to show up. I would park up, get my backpack and tell myself “okay I’m going to go in one minute”, on repeat, until the class ended and I would take my ass back home, shameful and full of hatred. My anxiety and depression peaked at this point. I went to therapy, refused drugs, decided to continue going to therapy until I got somewhat stable. My friends pulled me out of the hole, forcefully, very unpleasantly, but I am eternally grateful for them. Took a very long time to heal, but I healed, I got back up, and I started moving forward.

Shortly after my father found out my mom was having an affair, he switched his life around trying to win her back. I respect him for that, however it didn’t work. The house went on sale. The house got sold. Dad (who is actually my stepdad but has been raising me since I was 3 years old), was moving in with his friend. I didn’t like that friend at all, he was an alcoholic and quite inappropriate at times. Mom? Off with her new husband. Greta with her dog and cat? Choose.

Do I want to live with someone who makes me feel very uncomfortable and is quite unpredictable?

Or do I live with the man who is the reason my family, and my life has fallen apart? Whom I, in fact, fantasized about stabbing at the time?

I said fuck you to them both. Picked up more hours at my two jobs, with the help of my dad, I rented out a 500 square foot studio apartment. I worked a fuck ton, and I mean it. From one job to another in the same day, back and forth thru the week. Paid my bills, dad helped if I came up a few hundred bucks short. My diet consisted of solely the food I could get at the restaurant I was working at. If I worked there only 4 days that week, that means I was only going to be eating those 4 days, the next three, I’d get off my other job, if the time was right I would visit someone and eat what they gave me, if not I’d literally not eat. Cigarettes were expensive and they were my priority.

Slowly my dad got back on his feet, despite his deep depression that he simply wasn’t able to understand. He started out helping out more and more, at this point I was able to save a few bucks for myself. Those bucks were spent mostly on ramen and bottom shelf wine.

A while later, I got promoted at my job. I started being a manager at the restaurant I was working at, and then slowly went into accounting.

Quit my retail job, and have been relying on shifting from manager to waitress for the past 6 months.

I would go into detail about how difficult it is to be put in a higher position as a 21 year old white woman, working with middle age white men, but that’s just a buzzkill. Everyone knows “white men run this shit” and I have a HUUUGE problem with that, but it’s fine. Not going to worry about it.

So why, after all this time, this magical city that I’ve seen my best ant my worst moments in, suddenly makes me sick to my stomach? Why can’t I stand being here?

Is it a bad case of (literally all year long) January blues? Is it all the cold and the gray? Is it all the garbage on the streets?

Downtown Chicago is like a painting you hang up on your wall. “Like, wouldn’t it be cool to be there right now?”, or “okay, this is the building I’m going to live in”. Pure fantasy, baby. You drive to your minimum wage job that you hate, you see the Chicago skyline in between the clouds ahead. All it is – a reminder that you probably will not be able to live on the 92nd floor of that building, no matter how hard you try. Some of us will try our best, but we will not achieve great things. Chances are slim, so we definitely should still try, but prepare for the worst. Life is funny, it will never go the way you want it to.

I type this from my dad’s apartment, which I moved back into, with the hopes of going back to school soon.

A few more things I want to mention while I’m here:

1. Value your family, always. No matter how dirty they do you.

2. It’s okay to hold your life on pause, to fix and reevaluate, as long as you make progress after.

3. Don’t rush to move out of your parents, you will feel lonely. Like really fucking lonely.

4. Don’t max out your new credit cards if you don’t want to be paying the bill (I’m currently still working on this)

5. Yes, these new Nike’s will make you feel like a bad bitch, but you worked 10 hours for this amount of money.

6. Don’t take a fucking 5 year loan out on a car that doesn’t hold value, shit drops value by the minute. Worst thing to ever invest in.

7. Treat your friends to lunch, and make sure they feel appreciated, even if it’s Wendy’s 4 for 4.

8. Last, but not least: don’t fucking litter please.

#chicago #januaryblues #lifelesson #tumblr #immigrant #lithuania #blog #long #text #read #story #biography #anonymous

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mitsuki-murakami · 6 years

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Soulmate AU: Oikawa x Reader [Rewind Part 1]

A Soulmate AU where you will keep looping your life until you meet your soulmate.

Requested by @mou-ikaihaikyuu! I hope you like it!

Reader's POV

"Farewell, my love. I'll see you on the other side." You hear your husband cry out. You will soon be in the mansions of rest. Hopefully.

Hopefully? Yes, hopefully. Hopefully, this time, you have chosen the right person this round. You see, you keep repeating your life until you find your soulmate.

When do you go back to square one? It doesn't matter whether it be during your dying breaths or during your graduation ceremony. You never know. In fact, this is only one of the few times you reached your death, so this must be right. Please, be correct. You're tired.

Light consumes your vision and you close your eyes. You are brought before an indescribable entity.

"You cannot rest until you find your soulmate." A golden voice speaks.

You feel your body gain energy. Your skin tightening from its loose appearance, your spine straightening, and your joints relieving of pain. You see your hair turn from gray back to H/C. You're becoming younger. Again.

"At least give me a hint." You mutter weakly, collapsing to your knees.

"If you'd put some more effort into looking for your soulmate, then you'd be resting right now, with him." Your fists clenched.

"What if he doesn't want to be found? What if he's part of this game you're making me play?" Your soulmate is a he. This entity who makes you suffer through your life again and again has given you a small hint without realizing. As if knowing his gender would help. The population on Earth only continues to grow.

"This is not a game, Y/N. It's something we all have to go through. We only want you to be happy."

"I'm not." You cried. "Instead of going through countless trials and errors, can't you just tell me?"

"Enough." Another booming voice speaks. "This time around, you go back to 18 years of age." You feel that the damned word will be spoken soon, and you brace yourself.

"Y/L/N Y/F/N, Rewind."

Your breath is knocked out of your chest and you can do nothing but close your eyes. You feel as if you are enclosed in a box, and you hear pounding. Hands and fists pounding against the box.

You've already experienced this many times before, yet you still cower. Your heart beats in your ears and you can breathe again. The pounding continues. You cover your ears. It won't stop. You hold yourself until it stops to a faint knocking.

Your eyes open, and you are lying on a soft mattress. You sit up and look around. This is my room from high school, you thought. The pounding is still there. It's soft, and you realize it's coming from the door.

"Y/N, are you up? Breakfast is ready." A familiar voice called you.

"Mom?" You haven't heard that voice in so many years. "Yes?" You jump out of bed and slam the door open. She's there. She's real. You engulf her with a hug. "What's gotten into you?" She hugs back anyway. You shake your head.

That's right, you remember.. It seems like you're the only one in this world who experiences this unexplainable phenomenon.

"Nothing, mom." You let go and looked at her.

"You're gonna be late. It's the first day of your school, you better get ready." You nod and rush to the dining table to eat. Even though you're really tired of living and dying again and again, you're happy that you're here with your mom.

***

"I'll be going now, mom!" You slipped your school shoes on and ran out of your house. You've only got 30 minutes left until you get to your new—or should I say—old high school, Aoba Johsai.

You reach the crossroad that connects your path to your school. You wait until the light turns green before you cross. Eyes set on the school right in front of you, you notice that you're alone on the crossing road with this other student. However, you didn't notice the car speeding its way to you.

"Watch out!" Said student grabbed your wrist and pulled you to safety before the car could hit you. Your eyes remain closed until you realize what was haplening.

You see chocolate-brown eyes stare into your E/C ones. Your first thought was, Seriously? On the first day of my recurring existence, this happens? Your second thought was, Who the heck is this?

He had his arms around your waist, possibly to keep you from falling over from his pull earlier. You had to mentally thank him, as your knees were still weak. You're still trying to get used to this new, young body of yours. His eyes displayed worry and adrenaline. You managed to steady yourself and stand on your own. The both of you hear the stoplight beep away, signalling that the light was about to turn green. Still confused, you found yourself being pulled towards the school.

"Are you hurt?" He asked, a hand on your shoulder. He was looking down to meet your eyes, since he was quite tall. You shake your head, looking away. He was familiar, but you couldn't quite put your finger on it. After living and dying many lives, how could you? You realized that your faces were in close proximity, so you took a step backwards. You could swear you saw the corner of his mouth curl upwards for a second.

"That's a relief. Next time, look left and right before crossing the road, even if the light is green. Not all people are good, like me." He shot you a shit-eating grin whilst pointing to himself.

"I'm not some child...." You found yourself trailing off, because you really could not remember his name. "Who are you?"

It seems like he didn't like that question, since he placed his hands on his hips, his grin turning into a questioning scowl.

"Are you sure you don't know me?" You nodded, furrowing your eyebrows. Is he supposed to be some celebrity everyone is supposed to know? You asked yourself.

That wasn't far from the truth.

"Hmm.." He put his finger to his chin, thinking. "Are you new here?" You paled and racked your brain for an answer. You recall your school years. "I've been attending this school since my first year, why?"

"Then you must've been living under a rock during those two years." You were appalled by his accusation. "Excuse me! I'll have you know that I'm forgetful and that I don't remember every single student I meet at Aoba Johsai!" You fumed, crossing your arms.

"Well, in that case..." A mischievous expression consumed him. "To thank me for saving your life.."

"Name the price, snack, or whatever." You muttered. You were so done with his narcissism.

"Ah, no. I don't want your money. How about a..." He tapped his chin. "How about a date?" Instantly, you turned red. "A d-date?!"

"Just so you can get to know me better. I won't take no for an answer. After all, I did save your life." He grinned. Suddenly, you hear screams nearby.

"Kyaaa!! It's Tooru-kun!" A girl screams. Tooru?

"Well, gotta go now. See you here on Monday, 5:00 PM."

What? Was all you could think after seeing him getting caught up in a crowd of girls. He started rubbing his nape and acting all flustered. Irritated, you stomped off, only to stop after hearing the boy you were just speaking to yelp.

"Ow, who threw that?!" You turn around to see him holding a volleyball and rubbing his head. The girls around him were fussing around, trying to make sure that he was alright. You rolled your eyes but giggled.

"Iwa-chan!! That's the second time this month! Stop doing that!" He grumbled. You giggled even louder. You didn't catch a glimpse of this Iwa-chan, but you're sure he's scary.

"Oi, new girl." You stopped laughing and looked at him again. "What?"

"Don't forget our deal."

***

After hearing that, you scurried off to your class, only to find out that he was your classmate. Even worse, he was your seatmate.

Currently, you are trying to ignore his calls.

"Hey." You ignored him, listening to your math teacher.

"Hey, new girl." You finally turned to your right and glared at him.

"For the last time, I am not a new girl." He slightly raised his hands and smiled innocently. You were confused, but enlightened when he pointed to the front. Your teacher was glaring at you.

"Miss L/N, please don't talk during my class." Tooru snickered beside you. "Oikawa, stop bothering her." You slightly smirked.

Honestly, you didn't know how this boy managed to get in Class 6.

Wait.

Oikawa?

***

Then came Monday. You were contemplating whether or not you should go right up to the last minute. The last week was spent arguing with him and trying to convince him that you were not a new girl. You found it really irritating that he just couldn't accept that you didn't know him, when in fact, you knew already.

He's Oikawa Tooru, that setter superstar every girl admires. Every girl except you.

That's probably one of the reasons why he was so interested in you.

Oikawa's POV

I wait under the hot sun. It's already 15 minutes past 5 and she's still not here. If she's not here after five more minutes, I'm leaving. I frown and cross my arms. I can't believe I'm waiting for a girl I barely know.

***

Five minutes have passed. I don't leave.

And another five minutes. I still don't leave.

And another five minutes.

Damn it! I'm leaving! I think to myself angrily as I start walking towards the gate of the school. I stop in my tracks as I see her at the other side of the street.

What is she doing there?

I make sure there are no vehicles in sight as I run over to her. She looks pale. She's not looking at me, she's just looking at the road.

"Oi, are you okay?" I ask, trying not to sound too concerned. No response. I held her by the shoulders and gently shook her. "New girl!" She seemed to snap out of her trance.

"Oh, sorry." She slightly reddened, not making eye contact. "What happened to you? Can't cross the road?"

"I guess."

"Don't tell me, you're afraid of crossroads now, huh?" She nodded. I took a second to observe what she was wearing. Nothing too formal or casual. Her white t-shirt was peeking out from her wool sweater that was two sizes bigger, with black jeans and sneakers. She looked like a child, honestly.

"I can't really blame you after the whole ordeal last Monday." I shrugged. "Next time, call for me. I'll cross with you." I winked at her. She may have rolled her eyes, but I didn't miss the reddening of her ears. I smirk.

"Let's go." I grab her right hand and pull her towards my favorite cafe. I push the door open for her and lead her towards the counter.

"Oh, Tooru-kun, is that your new girlfriend?" I give the lady a smug smile and say, "Yes. Isn't she cute?" Beside me, I feel her stiffen. "O-Oi!" She protests. I lean down and whisper, "Just for one day." I give her a little wink and turned to the display of food.

"Nee, new girl, buy me some milk bread." She frowns and crosses her arms over her chest. "You're the man here."

"And you're the one repaying me for saving your life." She sighed and pulled out her wallet. I stop her. "I'm just kidding." I stick my tongue out and pull my own wallet out.

"What do you want to eat?" I ask her.

"A slice of chocolate cake, I'll pay for mine." She pulls a few bills out. "Hey, I'm the man here, right? I'll pay for it."

"Who knew you had a nice bone in you?" I hear her mumble.

"What was that?" She sticks her tongue out too.

Hey.

She's kinda cute.

***

We both sit down on a table near the window. I watch as she sips a drink she ordered. She's looking at the scenery outside. It's the middle of April, and the weather is nice.

"So, are you ever gonna tell me your name?" I ask.

"Only if you stop calling me new girl." She responds, not sparing me a glance. "Sure, whatever." I absentmindedly responded.

"It's Y/L/N Y/F/N." Suddenly, a headache—no, migraine is attacking me. I clutch my head in pain and let out a few gasps.

Is it happening again? Is it the rewind?

"Hey, are you okay?" Y/L/N responds.

There's a part two for this~ This story is just too good for me that I wanted to make it longer! Thank you for your patience :3

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Haikyuu!! or any of its characters. I also do not own the picture used above. If anyone knows who the artist is, please message me so I can give him/her credit.

PLEASE DO NOT PLAGIARIZE

Thank you for reading!

#oikawa tooru #oikawa #iwaizumi #oikawa x reader #reader #one shot #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #hq!!#hq #soulmateau #soulmate au #tooru

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sailormoonartblog · 6 years

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A short guide to the different editions of the Sailor Moon manga

As promised, now that I’ve reached the milestone of 200 readers, I’m posting a brief guide whose purpose is to help newcoming fans choose which edition of Naoko Takeuchi’s masterpiece is the best one to buy. Please keep in mind that this is not going to be a full-fledged review (especially since I happen to personally own a grand total of one of these editions and can’t therefore judge the others properly), but just an overview of what differentiates one edition from the others, which is ultimately the factor that is going to be the most determing in your future choice. Unless you choose to fuck the system and just download all of this material from the net.

So, without further ado, let’s start! Like 99,99% of manga, SM was published on a regular phonebook magazine before being compiled into collected volumes, so this initial incarnation of the manga is the one that must be considered first. Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon was serialized on Kodansha’s monthly title Nakayoshi between February 1992 and April 1997 for a grand total of sixty chapters (please don’t try to do the maths - I can already tell you that two single issues during this five-year period were skipped). On, the other hand, Codename Sailor V! was host by Nakayoshi’s companion magazine RunRun, which used to come out once every three months, between April 1991 and October 1996 on a much less regular basis; this series counts a total of sixteen chapters. We must also add that eight different short stories and one much longer extra chapter were also being contempourarely published between Nakayoshi, RunRun and the bimonthly issue Nakayoshi Deluxe, with a very irregular pace; finally, a tenth extra story was later published as a stand-alone well after the end of the manga. With all of this in mind, we’ve got a grand total of 85 back issues (and an artbook, but Parallel Sailor Moon is a wholly different story) to track down if we want to possess the original version of this amazing manga series. Good luck with that! Finding them these days is very rare, and finding them at a reasonable price is simply impossible (magazines are the cheapest way to read a manga while they’re still in circulation, but bless you if you want to find some older ones), so you must be a veeery dedicated collector to start the hunt. The good news is that the amazing people at Miss Dream have upped of all this goodness for download, and while it’s not the same as actually owning the issues, it’s still something - I mean, surely it’s enough to know how the manga originally looked like. Yes, because if there’s a good reason why you’d want to give this version a look, it’s because it features art that was never seen after - Takeuchi went through a lot of effort to polish her artwork upon the series’ volume release, which is why many panels and even entire pages from the Nakayoshi version will look vastly unfamiliar to you in you’re not used to seeing her rougher style! All in all, I think this is enough of a reason to, well, at least download the files and compare the pictures with what the manga would come to be later.

Shortly after it hit the shelves in phoneback form, the manga was compiled into a series of collected volumes which came out between 1993 and 1998. The original tankobon incarnation consists of 18 volumes for Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon and 3 volumes for Codename Sailor V!; the side stories were randomly thrown around inside the main books, though it should be noted that this edition lacks Parallel Sailor Moon, since it was first published in the Materials Collection artbook, which came out in 2002. These books are the same small size of every regular tankobon (or pocket-sized comic, for that matter) and each sports the standard 180 pages for volume, more or less; and, like all standard editions, they’re completely in black and white. Admittedly, you could say it wasn’t much of a loss, since all coloured illustrations that had appeared on Nakayoshi were also being compiled into a series of artbooks, but these did not include the coloured comic pages that were not pin-up art. This means that, for a long time, the original paperback serialization was the only way to get your hands on all the coloured parts of the manga - not to mention the fact that the Sailor Moon artbooks completely glossed over Sailor V, so that series was even less lucky than its more popular younger sister, and collectors were basically forced to buy RunRun in order to have all colour art ever made. What’s interesting about this edition, then? What makes it different from the others and therefore worth being bought (apart from lacking a single short story that is present in every subsequent edition, which isn’t arguably a great factor)? You could mention the cover art, for starters: every SM!volume featured four new colour illustrations that Nakayoshi-only readers would’ve missed - one on the front, one on the back and one for each side of the flier sides - while the SV!volumes only featured new stuff for the cover and just recycled art for the other parts; it should also be mentioned that every SM!volume came bundled with a double-sided poster in full colour, but they all featured already-seen art from the chapter pin-ups that were also present inside the books, though in b/w. But, truth to be said, you can still own all these pieces of art without possessing the original tankobon edition, since they are all featured in the artbooks - and in a much bigger and cleaner format, to boot! Though sadly this applies to Sailor Moon but not to Sailor V, as usual. No, the reason why you really want to check this edition out is inside the books: first of all, the first page usually features some tankobon-exclusive b/w art (which means that it was born in b/w and not converted from a coloured source to a b/w print) which, by virtue of being b/w, was totally absent from the artbooks. You’ll also be treated with Takeuchi’s liner notes wich were then suppressed from later editions (this tankobon-exclusive feature took the space that was devoted to sports and commercials in the Nakayoshi version)! And, aside from the illustrations, the greatest difference is actually the artwork in the manga pages themselves: as I’ve mentioned, almost every page was retouched to varying degrees when transitioning to phoneback publication to book release, and sometimes full pages were even added! In the end, what makes this edition unique is that it features an incredible quantity of panels that would be later redrawn (again!) for the next release, which is why I think it’s very important to at least give a glance to the original tankobon’s scans. Oh, I should also note that the division of the story into chapters was vastly rearranged for this version: comparing this arrangement to the way chapters were actually published singularly in Nakayoshi, Sailor Moon went from 60 to 49 chapters, while Sailor V went from 16 to 15. * But well, this is more of a formal difference, since none of the content from the magazine edition was eliminated - it was either altered or added, but never cancelled. As a final note, though the tankobon edition is out of print, it’s still relatively easy to find copies at a reasonable price, so it’s not as impossible a mission as hunting for the original magazine release is.

*= The issue of splitting Sailor V into chapters is a huge problem by itself, since the series actually started as a one-shot which we are now used to calling Chapter 3. The fact is, chapters 3-4-5 were the first to be published on RunRun as a sort of experiment and, once their popularity reached a certain degree, Takeuchi went back and gave birth to chapters 1-2 to explain the origins of the heroine in a sort of prequel fashion. But after that chapters 6 to 16 were all released in subsequent order, though skipping some issues of RunRun to make space for Sailor Moon side stories. Just know that all book editions of the manga arrange its chapters following the logical (but not chronological) order in order to give the story some actual sense. I think George Lucas is proud of Naoko Takeuchi.

Now we come to the most well-known edition (and the only one I actually own): the shinsoban release was published between 2003 and 2004 and consists of 12 volumes for Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon, 2 volumes for Codename Sailor V! and 2 bonus volumes for the so-called Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon Short Stories, which were grouped separatedly from the main series and included Parallel Sailor Moon for the first time. Even though the size of the books is about the same as the previous edition, they’re all quite thicker - each of them sports about 240 pages, more or less. And the first six are in full colour! Continuing on with the technical side of things, the shinsoban edition restored the original division into chapters from Nakayoshi and RunRun, but kept the tankobon rearrangment of the Sailor V reading order; in the end, the shinsoban way has become the official division and order for the manga, and the basis for every subsequent rerelases and adaptations. But what sets this edition apart from the others? First of all, the new coloured illustrations: every SM!volume (including the extra ones) features three new pieces of art - one for the cover, one for the back and one for the summary page; regarding Sailor V, this is limited to a single new illustrations per volume (the cover one) coupled with some recycled art. As an added bonus, all SM!volumes (so including the two extra ones, but excluding the two SV! ones) came with a page of stickers mostly featuring even more new coloured pieces by Takeuchi. And, this time around, there are no artbooks to have collected these artworks, so buying the books is essentially the only way you’ve got to be able to stare endlessly at all this awesome art. Speaking of the art, yet again a huge number of panels was redrawn in Takeuchi’s new style, and particulars were added to the Warriors’ uniforms which were present in their original design but had been scrapped before the manga hit serialization. This was the last time this was done, which means that a) the shinsoban has become the definitive version of how the manga looks like and b) there’s a total of three versions of the manga which differ from one another regarding the artstyle, and these are the Nakayoshi, tankobon and shinsoban versions. And the last is the best looking one, according to my very qualified judgement. It should also be noted that, in this edition, the tankobon liner notes were suppressed (their place was reassigned to some recycled b/w chibi art), but short two-pages comics about the making of the manga were added; and while the first change was kept in later editions, the omake content is exclusive to the shinsoban. The conclusion is the following: since the shinsoban edition is still being reprinted on a regular basis, it’s very easy to buy it first-hand, and to a reasonable price to boot - by virtue of being a deluxe edition, they’re slightly less expensive than your regular tankobon issue, but the difference in price is minimal and, since there are less books to buy, it even comes off as cheaper in the end; not to count that, even considering a single volume, the quality of this version is still much superior.

Then there’s the kanzenban edition, which was published between 2013 and 2014 and consisted of 10 volumes for Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon and 2 volumes for Codename Sailor V!; as stated above, the division into chapters followed the shinsoban, but the side stories were once again reinserted in between the regular series instead of being distinctly separated. Now, unlike with previous releases, the kanzenban does not feature any sort of update on the artwork, which means that the shinsoban is still the definitive version of the manga. But of course there is something to differentiate this editions from all the others! First of all, there’s the new art: every SM!volume presents a brand-new coloured illustration that, once again, is not available anywhere else due to up-to-date artbooks not existing. Unfortunately, this implies that there is nothing new aside from these ten illustrations, since the back and side cover sport no art at all and the SV!volumes, poor Mina, use recycled art even for the covers. That being said, the main selling point of the kanzenban is the fact that it’s the only edition to feature all the colour pages of the manga: this is relevant even for artbook-owners since the kanzenban is virtually the only source to include the coloured pages from the manga that are not cover pin-ups and the coloured illustrations and manga pages for Sailor V, all of which are very much absent from the artbooks. This makes the kanzenban a sort of must-own for everyone who’s obsessed with Takeuchi’s art, and you can stay assured that I’m going to spend everything I’ve got on this edition as soon as an Italian translation is published. The kanzenban volumes do not come with any bonus material, but they make up for it with their incredible size which makes them the best medium to ogle at Takeuchi’s art properly without the need to use a magnifying glass (...I’m not the only one who does it, am I?) - for comparison’s sake, the books are only slightly smaller than Nakayoshi issues, but the paper and ink quality is on a wholly different level! Every SM!volume is very thick, counting about 300 pages each, while the SV!volumes are not different from their shinsoban counterparts in that regard - they’re just bigger and more coloured. Of course this comes with a negative side: this edition, being more deluxe than a deluxe version (keep in mind that the shinsoban was deluxe indeed), is very very expensive. With this I mean that each volume costs about 2,5 times the price of your standard all b/w tankobon that you can find at the newspaper seller. This is to say that, if you’re not a super hardcore fan like me, you can very well go for the shinsoban.

The good news for anyone who can’t afford any of these editions is that a bunkoban release has been officially announced to be due to be published between 2018 and 2019. Information about this version is still very scarce, though, so we don’t know how many volumes it will comprehend - hell, we don’t even know if this edition will include Sailor V at all! With this in mind, I can only tell you what I know about bunko in general, based on the ones I own: the great thing is that each volume is about 500 pages long and very cheap, but there’s a reason to this. Bunkoban books are in complete b/w and, perhaps more importantly, are positively minuscule, to the point that reading can be even made difficult by their small size. My personal advice is to buy bunko only if you absolutely have to. Oh, I should also mention the fact that this edition is not going to feature any new art, since the covers will recycle the same illustrations used for the first kanzenban volumes, as photos from the official site have revealed. Anyway, I promise to update this mini-guide with more info as soon as the bunkoban edition is actually released!

So, to put it short, my suggestion is: hunting down the Nakayoshi edition is a task for hardcore collectors only; at this day and age, the original tankobon version is outdated, but it still holds interest to a dedicated fan; the shinsoban edition is the default one to go for new readers and probably the best way to enoy the story; the kanzenban edition is only for very, very big fans; the bunkoban edition will irreparably destroy your eyesight. In the end, I think the most difficult choice is between shinsoban and kanzenban, and that is a decision you have to make thinking of what you value more between the story and the art. If you really can’t make your mind up, keep in mind that it’s not illegal to buy both! Still, never forget that the more buyer-friendly is the shinsoban. I very much hope this piece can be helpful for new readers! :) Please tell me if you spot anything missing and don’t hesitate to ask for more information!

#sailor moon #naoko takeuchi #pretty guardian sailor moon #bishojo senshi sailor moon #pretty soldier sailor moon #kodansha #nakayoshi #runrun #nakayoshi deluxe #sailor v #codename sailor v #manga #chrono

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herokita · 4 years

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Written by Contributor “What’s the best investment strategy during a recession?”“Should I start investing in an economic downturn?”“When is it necessary to cut losses?”“What are simple and safe financial instruments to invest in as a novice?” Those are some questions I’ve been getting recently about investing. My quick answer would be: Build up your emergency savings, then continue investing normally for the long term. “Really? That sounds a bit too simple for a crisis like this. Are you sure?” Yup. But of course, the devil is in the details. This is how I’m thinking around investing in these coronavirus times, and how an average investor should probably think about it too. Investing is (probably) not gonna replace your salary I’m starting with this because I worry many people are looking at investing wrongly — like the magic bullet which will solve all their money problems. I’ll be blunt: if you’re looking to make more money now, I don’t think you should be focused on investing. Instead, get really good at your work. Build expert skills that are valuable to lots of people and charge for it. I say this in the broadest sense possible: this could be your day job or your side gig. It could even be your “passion project” online business which really takes off and becomes your main income. Investing, on the other hand — is a long-term project that prepares you for your retirement 30 years away. It’s more about “protecting and growing” wealth you already have versus generating lots of new income. It might take decades before your monthly investment returns even come close to your first salary (and most people never even get there). So unless you have a very special set of skills, you’re likely never gonna make a full-time income from investing. Now that we’ve got those Wolf of Wall Street fantasies out of our heads, let’s talk about what’s coming next. There’s another crash coming In March 2020, global markets (including stocks, bonds, oil, Bitcoin, and anything else people invest in) crashed like never before. Since then, most markets have partially recovered. Which is REALLY weird, because broad consensus is economies around the world are pretty f***ed up right now. A simple example: The S&P 500 (which represents the USA stock market) went up 28.48% percent in the same 4 weeks (23 March – 18 April) that >21 million Americans lost their jobs. Which reminds me of a saying in finance circles: “The stock market is not the economy.” When I say another crash is coming, I mean people feeling it. I mean people filled with fear, struggling to pay bills, and not having enough food. And if unemployment continues to grow around the world because of the coronavirus, eventually the markets will follow too. The last “crash” in 2009 actually happened over 16 months (via TradingView) In fact, many experts are saying we’re already in a recession — and the only question is whether we end up in a depression or not. A recession is like you having to skip dinner for a year. A depression is going to bed hungry for ten. Looking at history, we can estimate that recovery might take years, or even decades (like the 1930s Great Depression). How should we invest our money? The pre-requisite: survival Survival is your utmost priority. It doesn’t matter how much your stock portfolio grows in the next five years, if you or your loved ones aren’t around to enjoy it. So apart from health, your first priority is to ensure you have enough emergency cash. Your target: 6-12 months of expenses. This is money you can easily get if s*** hits the fan. What happens if your employer surprises you with a 20% pay cut, followed by your wife losing her job? Will you be able to survive such shocks? Even if everything’s fine with you, you’ll probably need cash to help your friends and relatives who are struggling. So focus on this important point first, before you even think of investing. Wait till it crashes, then buy low right? (no) Moving on: Every investor has heard the saying “don’t try to time the market,” but it’s almost impossible to follow. “Why should I buy when the market is falling?” we question. “I’ll buy when it hits the bottom.” Ah, the elusive bottom. Something people search their entire lives for, but nobody ever finds. But what if you somehow managed to do it? What if you had God-like market timing and somehow figured out exactly when to buy in? Someone has actually done the math. Here’s Nick Maggiulli in his wonderfully-titled “Even God Couldn’t Beat Dollar Cost Averaging” article: …Buy the Dip, even with perfect information, typically underperforms Dollar Cost Averaging (for the S&P 500). So if you attempt to build up cash and buy at the next bottom, you’ll likely be worse off than if you had bought every month. Why? Because while you wait for the next dip, the market is likely to keep rising and leave you behind. I know, it’s hard. We like to time the market because we wanna feel smart; like we’re getting a Mega Sale discount. But historically for most investors, it just doesn’t work. Much better to find something you’re confident to invest in for the long term, then Dollar Cost Average in. Time in the market beats timing the market. Invest in the broad markets Most people shouldn’t be choosing individual stocks to trade. Most people should be buying passive index funds or Exchange Traded Funds (ETFs). What’s the easiest way to start? If you’re reading this from Malaysia, a robo-advisor is the fastest, cheapest, most convenient way to get a mix of high-quality ETFs. As an iMoney reader, enjoy reduced fees when you sign up for robo-advisor StashAway through this link. But as always, remember to do your own research before investing. Again, I’m writing this for the average investor. Someone who’s busy with his job and family, and doesn’t have Warren Buffett-like time to read financial papers. Maybe you think you’re not average (research says most of us think so too!), but history conclusively tells us even most professional money managers underperform. What are the odds Joe quietly scrolling Bloomberg.com at the corner over there can pick stocks better than professionals? When you invest into a broadly-diversified instrument like an ETF, you’re not putting your hopes into a single company or management team. You’re investing into the collective capabilities of the most brilliant business minds in the world. Yes, things may still go up and down. You may still get alarmed if your assets drop below your buying price. But over long periods of time, the human race has always continued to prosper and grow richer. Have faith. Invest for the long term How long? Most industry professionals say you need at least 3-5 years of time when investing. But I like to think further than that. If this is really the mother of all depressions like the 1930s, it might take decades to recover. I suggest you get comfortable investing for your retirement, not to aim to cash out in 5 years. What if you need the money sooner? Say, you’re keeping money for your upcoming wedding in 3 years, or you’re really planning to retire in 10. Park it in lower-risk funds instead. You’ll likely earn less, but the value should hold steadier. Again, it’s super easy to do this via robo-advisors. Just select a lower-risk portfolio and let the investing magic happen. (Interested in more “what assets should I buy?” discussions? Check out my detailed article about risk, reward, and how exactly I built my own investment portfolio here.) Be careful with debt (only invest money you don’t need) Another question I’ve been getting a lot is: “Now that interest rates are so low, should I borrow to invest?” Generally speaking, no. You should never borrow to invest. Because interest rates — whether it’s for loans or investments — rise or fall together. So you’re not gonna find a situation where your risk-free return in an investment is higher than your interest rate for a loan. (The only exception might be Amanah Saham Bumiputra (ASB) and ASB Financing, so please consider that if you’re bumi.) “But P2P lending can give me 14%, while a banker offered me a personal loan at 4.5%! Surely that makes sense?” It doesn’t. First, advertised interest rates are always much lower than effective interest rates (e.g. the real rate you pay for a 4.5% personal loan is >8%.) Secondly, returns on high-risk investments are not guaranteed (and most will crash in tough times), but you definitely still need to pay your loans. So don’t “invest” with money you don’t have. That’s gambling. In fact, I’d go so far as to say: Only invest with money you don’t need. If you’re worried about making losses, then should you even be investing? As we first discussed, your first priority is survival — so any “worry money” actually belongs in savings or capital-guaranteed investments. Investing when you’re scared — master your emotions We’ve discussed a lot of technical things. But managing your emotions might be the most important point of all. Especially now. It’s okay to feel fear; it’s okay to feel pain. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with retreating so you can fight another day. And a good rule for life is to acknowledge your feelings, instead of hiding from them. But I know some of you reading this are in good financial positions. You’ve budgeted, saved and invested wisely so far. You’ve got those all-important emergency savings; and discipline. To you I say: This is your time. This is your time to move boldly while others shrink in fear. You’ve prepared for this, so keep investing. There will still be ups and downs, and you’ll have to deal with huge uncertainty. But find courage and stay true to the path — and the gains when things rebound one day will be deservedly yours. Fortunes were made by the brave in the previous financial crisis. I hope you’ll grow yours tremendously in the next one. “A gem cannot be polished without friction, nor a man perfected without trials.” – Seneca – There’s two sides of extremism I often see: one is doing nothing when something goes wrong. The other is doing too much when all you need is patience. Wisdom is knowing where to stand on the spectrum. Although I can’t prescribe you a step-by-step plan for your situation, I hope this article has given you useful perspectives about investing in difficult times. Because while we can’t control the winds of the economy and the tides of the markets, we can take certainty in the only thing we actually control: our own actions. So prioritize survival. Have faith and patience. Then boldly invest for the future. I’ll see you on the other side. Aaron Tang is the founder of mr-stingy.com. He writes about optimising time, money, and relationships – to make the most out of life. (function(d, s, id) { var js, fjs = d.getElementsByTagName(s)[0]; if (d.getElementById(id)) return; js = d.createElement(s); js.id = id; js.src = "https://connect.facebook.net/en_US/sdk.js#xfbml=1&appId=428626330554993&version=v2.9"; fjs.parentNode.insertBefore(js, fjs); }(document, 'script', 'facebook-jssdk')); HEROKITA.com | Digital Talents On Demand Source link

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preserving-ferretbrain · 5 years

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Soon I Will Be Invincible - Review

by Wardog

Saturday, 08 September 2007Wardog dusts off her cape and puts her pants on outside the rest of her clothing.~Soon I will Be Invincible is a book written by a loser for losers. Perhaps I'm being slightly unfair but the guy on the back is aggressively bald, over-educated, a computer game designer and has written an over-angsty, over-affectionate novel about superheroes and supervillains. I'm not saying he's not somebody I would love to hang out with but then I'm not saying I'm anything other than a loser too.

I'm a fair-to-moderate reader of superhero comics but I'm no authority on the genre so what I'm about to posit could be either a) so obvious it's not worth stating or b) completely wrong but I do think there's been a bit of a change of focus. Back in the day, it seems to me that superheroes were deliberately presented as everyman figures, community-spirited boys-next-door who just so happened to get gifted with exceptional powers. They seemed to be saying: "This Peter Parker fellow, he could be you, you could be the superhero."

But, of course, moral values have shifted with time. We're no longer all about the wholesome friendly neighbourhood superhero, we want the dark and the driven and morally ambiguous. The people who read comics are, for the most part, people like me (weird, unpopular kids) and, here on either side of the millennium, superheroes - those gifted by pure chance or cruel circumstance to be more attractive, more powerful and more popular than, say, me - are beginning to look rather like the kids who laughed at me at school. Thus you start to pay more attention to the villains, initially just larger than life foils to set against the unyielding virtue of the superhero. But, unlike the hero, villains tends to be self-made men who have progressed down the long road to world domination by dint being more intelligent and more determined than everyone else around them. A familiar motif for weird unpopular kids, I'm sure. The superhero belongs to the realm of the blessed and the accepted. The villain is the perennial scorned and derided outsider. I could take over the world, you know. If I wanted to.

SIWBI takes place on an alternative earth that, although rife with aliens, fairies, superheroes and supervillains, future tech and magic, is recognisably our own. The first person narrative alternates between the point of view of Dr Impossible, brilliant scientist turned supervillain and Fatale, a newly created cyborg who has just been invited into The Champions, a famous group of superheroes, previously led by Dr Impossible's arch nemesis. The plot, such as it is, is typical superhero fare: Dr Impossible escapes from prison and hatches the usual supervillain scheme to knock the planet out of orbit and herald in a new ice-age. Meanwhile CoreFire, the leader of The Champions, has disappeared and the group must to struggle to re-form into an effective unit and deal with the events of their past. As is practically de rigueur these days in anything dealing with people with super powers, the self-consciously trite plotline and the comic book archetypes are there primarily to illuminate the recognisable human dimension to it all. Thus The Champions battle not only Dr Impossible but their own very human failings and, even as he flounces around in scarlet cape and helmet, Dr Impossible angsts over the whether "the smartest man in the world has done the smartest possible thing with his life." It's not exactly ground-breaking but it seems to work well enough and adds pathos to Dr Impossible's obsession with invincibility, not so much to protect him from those with superpowers but to protect him from the very ordinary world that has always excluded and derided him and never loses its power to hurt him.

There's a lot to like here, if you're into that kind of thing. The chapter titles are all stock phrases ("Foiled Again" etc.) and most of the secondary characters are nods to various comic book characters. In fact the whole style and approach of SIWBI is incredibly affectionate and genial, although I do have to wonder what it's doing presenting itself as literary fiction because I can't imagine you'll get it, or indeed see the point of it, unless you're also fond of and familiar with the genre to which it offers itself as an homage. And I know that Grossman wanted specifically to write a book but it seems a peculiar choice to me. His writing style is brisk and punchy, favouring a lot of dramatic statements that would look absolutely perfect floating above a character's head in a speech bubble ("It was time for me to stop punishing myself and start punishing everyone else") but when they're just a just a line on a page they occasionally fall somewhat flat. It's kind of the equivalent of writing POW just like that. In fact, the blatant attempt to "literary-ise" the book, and through association the genre, is one of the more irritating features SIWBI. You like comics, dude, just accept it. Some people will laugh at you, some people will agree, and some people will start to talk about Maus. Regardless, Watchman will never be Ulysses.

As well as occasional stylistic difficulties the narrative jumps between the present and the past in a rather jarring manner. Although it's interesting to get (some of) the backstory, it does completely ruin the pace to the extent that what ought to be an adrenaline-saturated rush towards the final stages of Dr Impossible's plan bog down in a lot of superhero dithering and bickering. For the most part, Grossman is at his best in his supervillain's head. The attempt to give Dr Impossible a reasonably credible psychology for behaving as supervillains behave within the genre (always explaining his plans to the good guys, shrieking I AM A GENIUS at every slight provocation and so forth) does not entirely work because if you were actually capable of such self-awareness one would hope you would also be capable of behaving in a moderately sensible fashion. Nevertheless, Dr Impossible's seemingly unflinching commitment to a role he knows must always be the losing one does generate a certain emotional resonance and bizarrely, as the novel stutters to his inevitable defeat, a certain tragic force.

Dr Impossible, painted with all the narrative garishness a supervillain deserves, is not a subtle character:

For a second I stand at the fulcrum point of creation. God, I'm so unhappy.

But he is complex. Grossman writes him with genuine flair and appreciation. And, one loser to another, it's impossible not to empathise with his broken and lonely desperation:

If you're different you always know it and you can't fix it even if you want. What do you do when you find out your heart is the wrong kind? You take what you're given and be the hero you can be. Hero to your own cold, inverted heart.

Villain he may be but he's probably the arrogant, articulate poster boy for every geeky comic lover out there.

Sadly, the other characters can in no way live up to him, so much so they seem almost like afterthoughts. The Champions bitch and moan like a bunch of sulky teenagers and, even if that was partly the point, it didn't make them easy or pleasant to read about. As for Fatale, new superhero on the block, who narrates with Dr Impossible, she's tedious beyond expression. I had a feeling that, as a woman, she was probably meant to be saying profound things to me but her narrative voice is pedestrian at best and offers none of the exuberance or emotional engagement of Dr Impossible's. I skimmed most of the superhero sections.

Even so, Dr Impossible is worth the price of admission alone. If you're even remotely interested in the superhero genre or have ever contemplated world domination while sitting by yourself in maths, you'll probably find something to enjoy here.

PS - Please note the views expressed within the article are solely those of the author. Ferretbrain as a whole does not believe Mr Grossman is a loser.

Themes:

Books

Sci-fi / Fantasy

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Arthur B

at 18:32 on 2007-09-08I'm sorry, but there's only room for one "arrogant, articulate poster boy for every geeky comic lover out there" and it's

this guy

. :)

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Wardog

at 16:05 on 2007-09-10Oh come on, geeks need all the help we can get :)

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Jamie Johnston

at 12:59 on 2007-10-01Aside from the merits and demerits peculiar to this book (which I haven't read), I wonder whether it was a good idea to try to do superheroes in a novel at all. They grew up in comics, which are basically a dramatic form like plays, films, or television. They seem to get on fairly well on film and television (never seem them on stage), but throwing them into continuous prose narrative strikes me as probably unwise and possibly self-defeating.

If Grossman has, as you guess, done it in the hope of giving the genre literary credibility, then he's rather missed the point, hasn't he? Putting superheroes into a novel doesn't make them into literature any more than doing 'Richard III' as a comic would make it into childish pulp.

'Heroes' is a pretty good example of an intelligent transfer of superheroes from one literary form to another because it recognizes and deals with the differences between the two forms. The scale of television (both the size of the screen and the length of episodes and series) means it can't cover the whole range of dramatic action that comics do, so it concentrates on what television does well, which is the drama of personal relationships; but it also remembers that saving the world is the point of superhero stories, so it uses the flash-back / flash-forward structure to suggest a larger drama going on without having to indulge in the big colourful battles which do the same thing in a comic. It also recognizes that on television, with live actors and real-time action, superhero costumes simply aren't going to be credible, so it simply ditches them.

I'd say a superhero novel should probably ditch costumes too, for different reasons. In comics, costumes solve three problems: first, how do we easily distinguish different characters when the simplified style of the artwork makes all faces and bodies look very similar? second, how do we make every page look exciting even when nothing much is happening? and third, how do we make it easy to work out what's going on when up to a dozen different actions need to be depicted on a single page smaller than A4?

The advantage of solving those problems outweighs the disadvantage of a slight loss of credibility. But in a novel none of those problems arises in the first place, so costumes have none of the advantages but retain the disadvantage of implausibility (which is in no way reduced by the traditional internal narrative explanation: "I must protect my secret identity by wearing a costume which incorporates a mask... and bright yellow tights and a billowy green cloak").

Gosh, if I look behind me through a telescope I can see the point where this comment stopped being relevant to the article... Oh yes, that's right. Well, I think that's probably why I'm very dubious about doing superheroes in a novel at all. The whole point of the superhero genre is that it externalizes the drama and symbolism of the story. The way the identity of each character is made explicitly visual through his costume and is expressed in action through his superpower is a prime example of that. The whole point of the novel, on the other hand, is that it internalizes the drama by taking the reader into the minds of at least some of the principal characters. Action in a novel is secondary - it affects the characters and triggers internal change. If there was ever a narrative form which was unsuitable for superheroes, it's got to be the novel, surely?

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Wardog

at 10:49 on 2007-10-04I think I read in the introduction or the acknowledgements or somewhere that presenting the story as a novel rather than a comic was a carefully thought through decision, and one the author felt strongly about. On the other hand, I do think the interactions of various literary (or artistic) forms is interesting and, for that alone, perhaps I feel more supportive of it than perhaps it deserves. I was possibly being quite unfair when I suggested it was a doomed attempt to confer a literary validity on a popular form. As you point out, books / comics hop easily to the big and small screen and back again and books do, in fact, turn readily into comics (I've even seen a comic version of Proust for God's sake) and it seems peculiar that it's always been an unspoken one-way street i.e. that things can be turned into comics and comics can be turned into movies but never the other way round.

For what I've read about Heroes, I think it was always designed primarily as a drama rather than a slightly more high brow than average contribution to the superhero-genre. Tim Kring claims explicitely that his inspiration was Lost, he has no geeky nostalgia for the days of X-men or whatever ... essentially he started with television and incorporated superheroes rather than starting with superheroes and incorporating television. If that makes sense.

And there are some quite amusing sequences about costumes in SIWBI in fact! I think the point is that the novel - regardless of whether you think it's an appropriate experiment or not - deliberately attempts to offer a plausible psychological landscape to the external superhero world. Thus, Dr Impossible has an outrageous costume to allow him to put aside the vulnerabilities (or attempt to) of the man behind the mask and become a supervillain capable of delivering the usual array of hysterical villain lines. And one of the themes of the book is the clash between the external and the internal, the visual and the psychological. It doesn't *quite* work because you can't actually offer up a credible explanation of supervillainous compulsions i.e. why do they always pour our the details of their dastardly plans at the slighest provocation.

But it was fun.

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Jamie Johnston

at 16:37 on 2007-10-07Perhaps my reaction comes partly from my continual annoyance at the use of the novel form in general. I feel that a lot of storytellers write novels not because that's the best narrative form for the story they want to tell but because either they prioritize being a novelist over telling the story to its best advantage or, worse, it simply never occurs to them that there are any other narrative forms at all.

But certainly I don't want to say that a story can't be transferred from a comic to a novel just as well as the other way round. In principle any story can be told in any form, it's just that some forms are going to be better suited to the nature of some stories. But genre is a horse of a different colour. Still, I mustn't be too categorical since I haven't actually read the thing! If he's trying to explore the inside of the characters minds then the novel is certainly the form to do it with, but I would tend to think that all that would really achieve is to expose the psychological implausibility of many central elements of the superhero genre. Which, from your comments, sounds more or less like what happened. But it's interesting to find the edges of a genre.

As for 'Heroes', I'm interested that you say that Kring (not a bad supervillain name, that) wasn't particularly interested in superheroes. I hadn't heard that, and judging solely from the content of the series so far I'd have guessed the exact opposite. I can count on one finger the concepts, super-powers, characters, and plot developments in 'Heroes' which aren't almost identical to things I read in the X-Men comics when I was 15. And I notice that the producer of 'Heroes' (and the script-writer of a couple of episodes) is Jeph Loeb, who was a writer on X-Men for a long time, if I recall correctly.

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Arthur B

at 17:12 on 2007-10-07I think that just shows Kring recognised that he doesn't actually know much about superheroes and was wise enough to hire people who did.

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Wardog

at 10:19 on 2007-10-09On a rather tangential note, it's interesting really that the novel, once the bastard offspring of better literature, is now very much established as, perhaps, the most authentic and recognised of all literary forms - perhaps in a few hundred years the comic will supplant it. I mean, there's not exactly much call for epic nowadays - what sort of narrative forms did you have in mind, Jamie? And I suppose the major point of interest for SIWBI is that it's a novel, not a comic. As a comic it would be sub-standard post-Watchman fare I'm sure. As a novel at least it doesn't get lost among a morass of very similar items.

And with references to Heroes, I think something similar is at work; because he is not a great big superhero geek, Kring is more concerned about providing good television and, therefore, lots of the very obvious superhero tropes and motifs and arcs he uses, he does so with the blissful ignorance of the utterly unitiated. Whereas any superhero fanatic worth their tights would probably be unable to use them as effectively because they'd be preoccupied with what enormous cliches they actually are...

#Ferretbrain #Soon I Will Be Invincible #Wardog #Superhero

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kennethherrerablog · 5 years

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If You Have Less Than $5K in Savings, These 5 Steps Will Get You There

When you log into your bank account, how do your savings look? Probably not as good as youâd like. It always seems like an uphill battle to build (and keep) a decent amount in savings.

But what if your car breaks down, or you have a sudden medical bill?

If you have less than $5,000 in savings, you have work to do. Weâre not judging â we donât roll like that. Weâre here to help. We just donât want you to have to sell those Elvis-Presley-signed velvet pants you inherited just to pay some lousy plumbing bill. Those pants are sweet.

Try these five tips to get the ball rolling, and start building up your savings so you can breathe a little easier.

1. Let This Company Pay off Your Credit Cards

When you think about how much debt you have, you might feel a little anxious.

Thatâs where a company like Fiona can be helpful. It can help you find personalized lending options to refinance or consolidate your debt to potentially save thousands of dollars in interest.

Fiona will show you all the lenders willing to help you pay off your credit card and eliminate the headache of paying bills by allowing you to make one payment each month.

You can borrow up to $100,000 (no collateral needed) and compare interest rates, which start at 4.99%. The idea is to secure a loan at a lower interest rate, potentially helping you save thousands. Repayment plans range from 24 to 84 months.

Take, for example, Katherine, who faced $12,000 in credit card debt. Holding her back? The 15.24% interest rate. By refinancing with a 5%-interest, seven-year personal loan, she saved $12,000 in interest.

If sheâd kept on the same road, she would have paid something like $14,000 in interest alone over 25 years. Yikes.

So even if youâre simply curious about whatâs out there, know that checking rates on Fiona wonât hurt your credit score â and can probably save you in interest.

Money you donât spend on that interest is money you can put toward your savings. Then it can earn interest for you. Switcheroo!

2. Get Control of Your Money With a Budget

Budget. There. We said it, and it wasnât so bad, was it? Budgeting can be a little scary, but it doesnât have to be. Andâ¦ we all need it.

The first step is to find out how youâre doing now. Luckily, you can have a financial assistant right in your pocket to help you out.

The Empower app is a powerful budgeting tool that can help you figure out how youâre spending your money and develop a budgeting plan to keep you on track.

Link the app to your bank accounts, and it will track your spending. It will also categorize your spending, so you can see exactly where you are overdoing it. Thatâs right: It will show you just how many times you went out for dinner because you didnât want to do the dishes.

Set a monthly spending limit and the app will show you a graph that can tell you in one snapshot just how youâre doing for the month. Are you over the line or under it? Itâs that simple to see how youâre doing so you can adjust your spending accordingly.

Sometimes a little accountability is all you need. Quit tweeting, and use your phone for something better, like finally learning how to budget.

Once you have your finances under control, it will be a lot easier to see where you can find a little extra to slide over to your savings account.

3. Be the Change You Want by Investing Change

Wouldnât it be nice if you could just start saving without even really trying? You can.

If you like easy, consider starting an investment account through Acorns.

You can start small and stack up change over time with its âround-upâ feature. That means if you spend $10.23 at the grocery store, 77 cents gets dropped into your Acorns account.

Then, the app does the whole investing thing for you.

The idea is you wonât miss the digital pocket change, and the automatic savings stack up faster than youâd think. For example, we reviewed how Penny Hoarder Dana Sitar was able to save at a rate of $420 a year!

At that rate, you could set aside $1,000 in about two and a half years â without trying.

The app is $1 a month for balances under $1 million, and youâll get a $5 bonus when you sign up.

Saving doesnât get any easier than that.

4. Let a Robot Negotiate Your Bills Down

Why arenât you saving more? Because you have a lot of bills, right?

The price of internet â and cable, if youâre still into that kind of thing â certainly isnât decreasing. If anything, prices are steadily climbing.

And if youâve had to chat with a representative from your internet/cable company recently, you know how long you can sit on hold.

Thatâs why itâs time to call in a robot. The negotiation bot Trim will negotiate your cable or internet bills down for you.

It works with Comcast, Time Warner, Charter and other major providers.

You can sign up simply with Facebook or your email address. Then, upload a PDF of your most recent bill, and Trimâs AI-powered system gets to work. If at first it doesnât succeed, itâll keep negotiating until it can save you some money.

Also, if you have any outages, Trim believes you deserve a credit, and itâll handle that for you. Trim takes 25% of the savings tab, and you get the rest.

When you save money on bills, you have money to put into savings. This is easy, folks.

5. Get a Better Savings Account

Are you getting a decent interest rate on your savings? Probably not. How about fees? They might be stripping your hard-earned money away as fast as you can stash it.

Itâs time for a better savings account.

Chime is an online-only bank account that offers some unique features other banks havenât caught on to yet.

Consider:

Chime doesnât charge overdraft fees, monthly maintenance fees, foreign transaction fees or minimum balance fees.

Chime customers have access to thousands of fee-free MoneyPass ATMs around the country.

When you set your payroll up for direct deposit to your Chime spending account, your paycheck will post two days before payday, giving you more time to plan, save and pay the bills.

You can open an easy-to-access, connected savings account. It allows you to automate your savings with features like the round-up tool, which will round up your transactions to the nearest dollar and dump the change into savings.

Its mobile app boasts more than 2,000 five-star reviews, making managing money super accessible via iPhone or Android.

It has a âPay Friendsâ feature, so you donât have to mess with cash, math or other apps to split the bill.

Plus, it takes about five minutes to sign up. The bank verifies your personal information, takes note that youâre at least 18 or older, then youâre good to go. No opening deposit required.

For an account thatâll help you strike up savings â and thatâll pay you two days early â check out Chime.

Think Small, but Dream Big

Itâs tempting to just shrug and say, âI canât afford to have a savings account.â Sure, you think youâll plop that $1,500 tax-refund check into savings. But those big windfalls also come with big temptations.

If you can find a way to save just $5 each day, youâll be $1,825 richer in a year.

Having $5,000 in savings isnât some magic number, but itâs a great starting point. Use these five tips and youâll be amazed how fast you can get there. Youâll sleep better knowing you have that cushion.

Then, youâll start dreaming of $10,000. Am I right?

This was originally published on The Penny Hoarder, which helps millions of readers worldwide earn and save money by sharing unique job opportunities, personal stories, freebies and more. The Inc. 5000 ranked The Penny Hoarder as the fastest-growing private media company in the U.S. in 2017.

The Penny Hoarder Promise: We provide accurate, reliable information. Here’s why you can trust us and how we make money.

If You Have Less Than $5K in Savings, These 5 Steps Will Get You There published first on https://justinbetreviews.tumblr.com/

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briefbouquetcreatorlove-blog · 6 years

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"How much to insure a 2004 lincoln? g2 driver?

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