#like. youre asking me to hand over a huge chunk of my life. to sit on my ass all day. and then not be able to get much done for myself. kys | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

coryosbaby · 1 year

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Fun size - Jake Sully x human! bimbo! Reader

I haven’t watched way of water yet but idgaf Jake been fine since the first movie there’s also no plot so don’t question anything pls & thank u

Summary: Jake loves how small you are.

Warning: mentions of blood, p n v, rough sex, major size kink, tummy bulge, daddy kink, Jake has a big ass monster cock, oral (m & f receiving), fingering, fisting (?), spit kink, degradation/praise, squirting, creampie, dom! Jake, sub! Reader

“you’re hurt!”

It’s the first thing that comes out of your mouth when Jake appears in front of you in the laboratory. A concerned look is etched across your face, as you look down at the na’vi’s bloody palm. The lab is empty, besides you and him; it’s late, and you decided to stay a few extra hours.

He chuckles at your reaction, taking a seat on the tile floor. He’s too big to fit anywhere else in the room.

“I’m okay, honey. It’s just a little scratch,” he assures, as you move over to grab a first aid kit. You roll your eyes, grabbing the red box anyway and sitting down beside him to patch up his wound.

“Then why did you come here?” You ask teasingly.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he sighs, mockingly. “Maybe to see my favorite girl.”

You flush, heat rising to your cheeks at his words. And when you begin to wipe away the dried blood with a alcoholic wipe, you begin to speak.

“So how is it? On pandora, I mean.”

Jake hisses at the feeling of the wipe running over his wound. But then he sighs dreamily, tilting his head back. “It’s…wow. It’s great.”

You nod, happy that he’s doing good and liking his new life.

After a moment of silence, you look up at him through fluttering lashes.

“I missed you.”

He looks at you longingly, a soft smile forming on his face.

“I missed you too, sweetheart.”

You bring out a tube of antiseptic and apply it to his hand. It’s not that bad of a cut, just enough to draw a bit of blood. You grab a bandage and wrap it around his palm. His hand is so big that it takes a good chunk of the covering out of the kit.

Jake smiles when you’re done, and when you look up at him his eyes flicker.

“Kiss it better for me?”

His voice is soft, and questionable. You bite your lip, and grab his hand in yours. His blue skin is warm and inviting.

Your lips come down to kiss the bandaged cut. Soft, and you breathe against his skin as you do it longer than you should. When you pull away Jake’s opposite hand comes up to stroke your hair away from your face.

“You’re so tiny. Do you know that?“

The statement catches you off guard, and you frown.

“Is that bad?”

“Not at all.” he states softly. His hand strokes your cheek in slow circles. “I think it’s perfect.”

You and Jake have had intimate moments like this. Moments before he even became na’vi, when he worked with you and became your close friend. And there was always someone to interrupt that moment.

There isn’t now, though.

And so Jake moves you closer. His hands grab your arms. He’s gentle, as to not disturb his wound. And he pulls you onto his large thighs. You gasp, your legs moving onto either side of his, and it’s hard to do, really. He’s so wide in comparison to you that it causes a mild burning stretch in your groin. He moves closer, his lips warm against your ear.

“Do you feel how big I am?”

You shiver, beginning to squirm in his lap. As he pulls you to his chest.

“W-What?”

“I said..”

He grabs your hand, a small growl emitting from his throat. And, without warning, places your fingertips against his covered crotch.

“Do you feel how big I am?”

A small squeak spills from your lips when he commits the action. His bulge is big. Huge, even. You don’t know how he manages to cover it up with that thin piece of fabric.

“Yes.” You breathe out. His eyes are locked onto yours with a burning and intense desire.

“Kiss me.” He demands.

You obey him instantly, moving up to him and crashing your mouth onto his. You’re desperate, hands moving up to his brunette locks and give them a harsh tug. Jake groans, his tongue sliding into your mouth with ease. He tastes sweet, and his sharp canines scrape against your bottom lip. When he pulls away, it’s because you’re grinding down onto him and making him throw his head back in pleasure.

“Sweetheart..” he moans out.

“You’re so big,” you say, whiny and breathless. “I want you inside me, sir. Want you to be my first.”

“Goddamn, sweet girl. Are you sure you can take it?”

“I’ll take is so well for you, daddy.” You’re moving down to pull the loin cloth off of his dick. As expected, he’s enormous. Bigger than any human could ever possibly be. Fifteen inches and blue, with a slight curve and a long thick vein going right down the middle. The mushroomed tip of him is drenched in sticky liquid. Your mouth waters, as you go to stick your mouth to his girthy length. Licking a stripe up the vein, your eyes roll back when your tongue runs over a string of precum. He tastes divine.

“Good girl,” Jake praises, when you begin to kiss his tip. “Good fuckin’ girl..”

You whimper, and open your mouth wide. He’s too thick to even stick inside your mouth. You make a sound of disapproval at this realization, but that’s quickly forgotten when he’s grabbing your hair, fastening it into a ponytail, and telling you to spit on him. You do, leaving a wet puddle of drool on him. And then he holds you still and begins to hump your face. Your spit rubs against your own skin, and when his balls come in contact with your face your rubbing your open mouth on them desperately.

“Wetting that cock so good, baby, keep doing that. Gotta get you ready so I can stretch out that tight little cunt.”

The thought of his cock cramming itself inside you and stretching you beyond your limits makes you mewl, and although you should be scared to fuck such a big cock, you aren’t. The only thing you can think about is your needy hole being filled with Jake’s hot cum. You pull off of his balls with a pop, looking up at him with pretty Bambi eyes.

“Can you use your fingers on me, daddy?”

“Yeah, honey, yeah,” Jake murmurs. He’s overwhelmed, his face and neck incredibly hot. He brings his own hand to his cock, to relieve the ache of wanting to pummel you until your pussy breaks. “Shit, take that skirt off and lay down.”

You do, unzipping the pink fabric and pushing it, along with your underwear, down. Your pussy is swollen and aching, and when you lay down on the floor Jake pulls you toward him. He grabs your ankles and pulls your legs apart. And when your dripping cunt is revealed to him, he has to stop himself from shoving into you. Your pussy is red, clit swollen and juices trailing down your ass. The curly hair at the top of your snatch is almost adorable. And when Jake watches your little hole clench around nothing, he growls.

“Fuckin’ perfect. A human man wouldn’t know what to do with this little virgin pussy. Would he?”

You shake your head, watching as his index finger runs a stripe up your slit. You squirm, feeling his fingertip begin to sink into your hole. He gets to the first knuckle, and pauses. You furrow your brows in confusion, beginning to whine. He chuckles when he feels you clench around his finger.

“Needy? Haven’t even put a whole finger in and you’re all fucked out.”

“Please, daddy. I need it s’ bad.”

Your begging seems to work, because then he’s sinking it all the way in. And then, without warning, he shoves his middle finger inside of you, too. You cry out, the stretch something you aren’t even used to with your own fingers, let alone his. Wet gushing sounds emit from you when Jake begins to speed up his pace.

“Slutty girl. Look at you, dripping around my fingers, aren’t you? Yeah, fuck that pussy on my fingers, you pathetic slut.”

You mewl, your hips chasing that delicious friction of his fingers rubbing your inner walls. He attempts to squeeze his ring finger in, and when it pops tightly into your stretched hole you gasp out.

“Too much..” you mumble, your eyes shut and tongue lolling out.

“And you say you can take me? Baby, this is only three fingers. I might need to put my whole hand in here to make it fit.”

“Oh, god.” You say. “Jake..”

“I know.” His pinkie ghosts over the rim of your hole. “Think you can fit this in there?”

“I.. I don’t know..”

“It’s okay, sweetness. We’ll make it fit. Won’t we?”

You nod, dazed and confused, your pussy hurting from how good being stretched beyond your limit feels. The tip of Jake’s pinky slips in, and the tight fit feels incredibly snug. But you relax anyway, and it slips in with ease.

You huff, trying to calm yourself down as you drip all over the floor. His thumb is the only finger that isn’t in, and with skill he begins to rub your clit in slow circles.

“Daddy..” you slur. You can feel your orgasm drawing closer, Jake not even moving his fingers inside you but you still quake around the digits. He makes one small thrust into you. He massages a part of your walls that has you fucking into his hand. He smiles as he watches you become desperate for him. And without warning he begins to finger fuck you. Your wetness splashes all around your thighs and onto his wrist, and you a throaty moan pours from your throat. Your walls accommodate to his fingers quickly, and in no time your gaping snatch is being brutally manhandled by his strong hands.

Your eyes roll back, and as he massages your clit your hips surge up and you cum all over his fingers.

Jake grins, a proud smile on his face as you squeeze around him.

“Such a good little girl. That’s it, that’s it, honey.”

When you come down from your orgasm, your head spins from the high of it all. He slowly pulls his fingers out. When you’re empty you can feel your pussy gaping.

You haven’t even got to his cock yet. That’s what goes through your head, as you look at his incredibly large length resting against his stomach. It’s going to destroy you.

This is when you begin to get nervous. Can a vagina even handle that big of a length? It can give birth to babies though, right? So it should be okay..

You’re supposed to be a scientist, but you don’t know.

Jake’s hand on your cheek brings your attention back. It seems you’ve zoned out.

“Stay with me, baby.”

You nod, your hand covering his as you kiss his thumb sweetly.

“‘M here, Jake. I-“ his thumb is brushing over your lip, now, and it makes your head spin. “-I want you so bad.”

“Yeah?”

Your lips wrap around his thumb with ease, and you suckle gently. He groans, his body climbing in between your spread legs. His tip taps your clit, and your legs shake from the stimulation of your overly sensitive button.

“Spread this little pussy for me.” Jake says gruffly.

A whine emits from your throat as your fingers move down and open your lips up for him. His cock rubs up against your slit, and he moves forward to push himself into you.

It’s only the tip, but it still pains you. He leans forward, a grunt leaving his lips as his hands go to the sides of your head. He pushes in a bit more, and you gasp in shock; his girth is the worst (and best) part of it all.

“Daddy.. s’big!” You cry out. “Feels..”

You don’t know how it feels. All you know is that he’s throbbing and spilling warm ropes of precum into your sweet cunt, a burn starting in your pussy because of the stretch. He leans down to your ear, pressing a kiss behind it.

“That’s my fuckin’ girl. Take that dick, bitch.”

His voice is a low whisper, and his roughness surprises you. You definitely don’t hate it, though. And when he pushes into you another few inches, your eyes roll back and tears fill your eyes from the pleasure and pain. You don’t know what’s overtaken Jake, but he’s growling low in your ear as he takes your cunt with all he has.

“Filthy little size queen..” he moans, feeling your tight heat as it wraps around him. “All your good for is being my little cocksleeve. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes, oh my god!” Your legs quiver. He chuckles, darkly.

“I’m halfway in.” He states. “Surprised you haven’t split yet.”

He says it so easily, as if he isn’t literally risking your life right now. His gentleness from earlier is gone, now.

“Wouldn’t mind if I did..” you mumble quietly.

He scoffs, amused. “What was that?”

His cock pushes further in. You groan, looking down at watching in awe as your pussy lips stretch obscenely around him.

You yelp when his hand comes down to spank your tits.

“Don’t fuckin’ ignore me. What did you say?” He demands.

“I said I wouldn’t mind if I did!” You repeat, a small moan mixing with your words. “Put it all the way in, daddy, break me, please!”

His eyes turn a shade darker as he bares his fangs at you. “Yeah? You want it all the way? Huh?”

His cock is forcing its way inside you, and he has no mercy as he pushes his dick inside your tight heat. You sob, tears beginning to stream down your cheeks, as he forces your cunt to adjust to him.

“Little pussy’s choking me, fuck.”

You can tell that even now he’s trying to hold himself back a bit longer so he doesn’t actually hurt you.

He pauses at a certain point. It’s like he can practically feel your cervix stopping his cock from entering any further. You’ve taken about twelve inches of his him, and he’s kissing the squishy wall at the very end of your gummy walls. It’s not necessarily a pleasant feeling, but your neediness makes it barely noticeable.

And when Jake looks down, a strangled moan comes out of him. Because there, in that space just below your tummy, the outline of his cock rests inside of you.

“Oh my god…”

He pulls out a few inches, and then presses himself back into that same spot. You whimper, the feeling of him throbbing inside of you igniting a fire in your belly.

Or maybe it’s his cock.

He grabs your throat in a tight grip as he directs your head to look down at the outline of skin that his cock rests under. “See how deep I am, angel?”

“It’s so much..”

“I know. It feels good getting used, doesn’t it? Little girl likes her hole being filled?”

You don’t even aknowledge what he says, just trying to take more even though it hurts. “Fuck me!”

“Patience.” Jake quips, as he pulls out until only the tip is left in you. And then he slams forward, hard and rough, and the sound you let out is almost animalistic. It hurts, but it hurts so damn good.

He begins to pummel your walls, no mercy as his thrusts quicken second by second. He grabs your ankles with his hands and practically bends you in half to watch your ass clench and your needy pussy get torn open by him. When he sees that blood is coating is cock, he begins to growl again.

“Fuckin’ pussy is bleeding. Slutty fucking hole can’t take daddy’s dick, can it?”

“I c-can, sir.”

It’s not true, and you both know it. But the look in your eyes makes Jake not be able to stop. You look too delicious, too fucked out and filthy, for him to stop ramming himself into you. He brings his fingers down to your clit, begins to toy with it, and you sob as your orgasm draws closer.

“Daddy! Pleasepleaseplease..” is all you can say as your high crashes over you and your wetness gushes all around him. He moans, watching your squirt land on his thighs and soak his fingers.

“Good little bitch.” He huffs out. You can tell he’s close, too. His hips are stuttering and his eyes are shut tightly as welcoming cunt takes him.

“Cum inside me, daddy,” you slur. “Fill me up with your hot cum. Need it s’bad..”

“Shit!” His hips still, and your eyes widen as you feel his hot cum squirting against your bruised cervix. His cock pulses as he releases his sticky seed inside your womb. When he stills, your breathing slows and you gently grasp his shoulders. He pulls out, hesitantly, and you let out a small cry when you feel your hole gape around nothing. He notices your shaking thighs.

“Are you okay?” He asks.

You nod, satisfied and happy at what just occurred. Jake brings a kiss to your forehead, and you fall asleep right there on the floor, fucked out and dreamy.

When you wake up, Jake is still there, holding you in his arms as he sleeps, too. He never left.

#Jake Sully #Jake Sully x reader #Jake Sully x fem! reader #Jake Sully smut #dom! Jake Sully #sub! reader #avatar #avatar way of water #avatar the way of water #atwow fanfiction

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itsrorysstuff · 6 months

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if you’re still taking requests could you write a fluff/angst fic where reader is always trying to be strong and she finally breaks and jb helps her feel better?

Yes please 🥹I need this rn. Requests are open! Please request because I love requests!!

⚠️RPF⚠️

Safe & Sound

It’s the week before winter break and I am exhausted, with studying for midterms, that English paper worth a huge chunk of my grade, and working early mornings, I’ve had no time for anything or anyone. And nobody noticed either, or so I thought.

“Hey baby, how was your day?” My girlfriend Julien asked as I walked through the door of our shared apartment, like she always did. “My day was fine, thank you for asking honey. How was yours?” I asked tiredly, taking off my shoes. “It was okay, I missed you allot.” She said opening her arms for me, I walked into them squeezing her tight “I missed you too baby. So much. I’ve just been busy lately.” I said, leaving into her comforting embrace.

“Yeah I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that actually.” She brought me over to the couch and we sat down, she gazed into my eyes and took my hands “I’m worried about you, honey. You’ve been coming home really late and waking up earlier than usual, and when you are home you’re studying or working on something. It’s like you never stop. I’m not saying this to be an asshole, I’m saying this because I love you and I hate watching your smile disappear like this. I hate not having you around, I hate that we only interact 3 times a day now and we live together. I want you to be happy and I want to help you. Let me help you.” She said, staring into my eyes. And that’s when it happened, that’s when I finally snapped. I started to tear up at the thought of what she said, had I been neglecting her? “I-I’m so sorry.” I broke down, my body falling forward into hers as I cried with my head on her shoulder. I sniffed and sobbed and tried my hardest to get words out “i-I’m sorry I’ve b-been a bad girlfriend *sob* I’m so-“ I breathed in harshly, trying to get the pain in my chest from lack of air to dissipate. She pulled me into her harder “you’re are NOT a bad girlfriend, baby. You’ve been overworking yourself and overwhelmed with everything. I’m sorry it took me so long to say something, sugar.” I let out another loud sob, my nails digging crescents into her shoulders. We sat there a while as I sobbed and took deep breath’s as per Juliens instructions, every once and a while she’d whisper a “it’s okay, my love. I’m here.” Or “shhhhh, it’s okay sugar. I love you so much, I’m gonna help you through this.” As she pet my hair.

After about a half hour, she got me to calm down. My sobs turning into random tears Julien wiped right away, and the pain in my chest completely gone. My grip on her loosened, I was merely hugging her now. She was still petting the back of my head softly “take the night off from school stuff, or at least let me help you. I’ll make you dinner and we could just lie on the couch together and watch whatever movie you want. Please?” I thought for a second, eventually shaking my head no. “I have my Astronomy and my Calculus exams tomorrow. My paper is also due tomorrow, I really can’t stop now.” I said and she sighed “can I please make you dinner? And you can sit at the counter and study or write or whatever you need to do. I just…just want to be with you. Please?” She pleaded with me. “Yeah. Yeah I’d like that.” We can to an agreement that I’d spend 2 hours working. An hour for studying, and an hour for the paper so I’d be done working around 6:30. The hour of studying went by quickly, I did let Julien help a little. Letting her quiz me or help me figure out equations, it helped and I felt like I could breathe again. The hour of writing the last page of my research paper…not so much. It was the longest hour of my life, I didn’t have anything left to say, I mean it was the end. I almost started crying of frustration, but Julien swooped in. She put in some bigger words so that the paper looked longer, the whole page was filled. Finally finished, a huge weight fell off my chest. “This was so nice of you, j. Thank you so much I really really appreciate it. I love you.” I said and I looked at her with a wide smile. “It was my pleasure baby, you already look happier. I love that, I love you.” I took her face in my hands and pulled her forward for a kiss, soft but filled with love. We pulled away and pressed our foreheads together, holding each other in the kitchen for a moment of peace. “Take me to bed?” I asked and she nodded, dragging me to our bedroom.

We got ready for bed together, silently but a comfortable silence. Than we went to bed, my body almost completely on top of hers. “I love you.” I whispered before completely falling to sleep on her. The next morning she drove me to my exams, after I got back in the car with a huge smile on my face. Not only because I knew I’d passed, but because I had her.

Can you tell I love corny endings? I love corny endings. I’m almost done with like two other fics, I just have to get my ass in gear and actually finish them 😭

#julien baker fanfic #julien baker fluff #julien baker x reader #boygenius x reader

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seospicybin · 2 years

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FATAL ATTRACTION.

PART I

I.N x reader. (s,a)

Next chapter: Part II

Synopsis: Your father as the leader of the Southside must given up something as a penalty for breaking the territorial rules to the Northside leader, Yang Jeongin. It's an exchange that he can't resist, a hidden daughter of the Southside, you.

Author's note: Part II will be out tomorrow! Enjoy this one ❤️

The gun is loaded and his slender fingers are wrapped around the handle.

Pale white skin on cold dark steel, someone's life is right at the end of his finger. The gun is pressed hard against a man's temple and the bullet is only a few inches away from his brain being obliterated. After that, he guesses it's the gate of hell since they're both in the same unholy business.

Jeongin's eyes are nowhere but staring into the other man who's kneeling on the floor, begging for a life that isn't his.

"You didn't hesitate to kill my man when he entered your territory," he says to the begging man.

The man lets out a shaky breath and screws his eyes shut for a second, begging certainly is not his forte, the man is struggling.

He understands that his pride stands between him and what he wants. The pride is coming from the family name that he upholds above everything else.

Unfortunately, Jeongin has a family name to uphold as well and his family wouldn't let this chance easily pass, a chance to win more territory which leads to more power to rule over the city.

Jeongin's family has ruled over the Northside for years and he, the rightful heir to the throne that had been passed down right from his father, leads the family's business.

What kind of business? Anything that brings money, legally or illegally, he doesn't care as long as he gets to maintain his family's prestige name.

And here, the man who is begging for a life to be spared happens to be the one who leads the Southside and his family's mortal enemy with decades-long of enmity that goes way back to when Jeongin wasn't even born yet into the world.

He knows enough that if he should give him a pass he has to get something in return.

"Not my son, please?" The man begs again, bleary eyes filled with fear and the sheen of sweat on his forehead glistening under the dusty light bulb.

Seeing him pathetically begging for him like he is praying to a god makes him feel like playing one, he presses the gun until it digs into the skin.

"Tell me why should I keep him alive?" He asks, giving the man one more chance at redemption.

"Anything but my son!" He answers without a beat.

Jeongin looks down at the man's son who seems to be only a few years older than him. He learned of his mortal enemy's history to know why his son is so important to him. He's the only one who will inherit the Southside, the only descendant left to continue the legacy, the same fate just like him.

As much as he hates to give a shred of sympathy, Jeongin relates so much to that. It reminds him of how his father had sacrificed so much just so he can have all of these because truthfully, a lot would kill to sit on his throne.

His hand loosens around the gun then uses it to scratch his head, thinking of something to exchange for the son's dear life.

A huge chunk of territory would suffice, he reckons.

He smacks his lips together and squats down in front of the father, "In exchange for your son's life, I'm taking Red Lights district from you!" Jeongin says ever so casually like he was asking for a piece of chewing gum while the man's eyes widen in shock.

Not only that he's asking for a big chunk of territory, Red Lights district has clubs, drugs, gambling, and everything illegal that makes money the most, in other words, it's their main source of income. To take it away from him might as well shut down his business and leave so little for settlement.

"I– I can't... can't give you that!"

Jeongin clicks his tongue, dissatisfied with his response.

"You. Are. Not. In. Position. To. Make. A. Bargain. With. Me!" Jeongin enunciates every word with every push of his gun onto the man's chest.

He leans in and stares into the man's eyes, "do you want to save your son or not?"

The man vigorously nods.

"Give me the Red Lights district and I'll let you two walk back to the Southside," he offers again.

"You know what? I'm feeling generous, I'll even give you a ride home!" He adds with an enchanting yet evil grin.

The man closes his eyes again, conflicted, panicked, in fear then glances at his son who's bruised and swollen from being beaten up by Jeongin's loyal subordinates.

Jeongin gestures to his right-hand man, Joon, to get him a paper of agreement of the transfer of property and puts it down on the floor for the man to see.

"All you need is to sign this paper," Jeongin puts then he slams the pen on top of it.

"Then you'll be having champagne in my limousine back to your home and we'll pretend that this never happens!" He concludes with an eased smile, giving him the easiest way out.

The man grips the pen but does nothing to uncap it, he holds the pen in the air for a moment with eyes squeezed shut, Jeongin is testing his conscience: his son or his business?

When the man finally uncaps the pen, Jeongin exchanges a triumphant smile with Joon, knowing damn well that this would earn him acknowledgment from the side of the family that still doubted his leadership.

Jeongin looks at the man again who slowly leans down to jot down his sign when all of a sudden, the man cries and his tears wetting the agreement paper.

"I can't do it!" The man cries, dropping the pen, and covers his face with his hands, ashamed of his decision, of himself.

The smile on Jeongin's face drastically fades like a day turns to night.

He runs out of patience, Jeongin picks up his gun and walks to his son, pulling his body straighter by the collar, pressing the gun close to his temple again, getting the bullet even closer to his brain than before.

"Well, it seems like you choose the hard way!" Jeongin remarks and cocks the revolver, the sound of it magnifies the palpable tension in the basement of some abandoned building on the outskirts of the city, where Jeongin reigns the most powerful, on the Northside.

The bullet is on the cylinder and ready to pierce through the poor man's skull at the gentle squeeze of Jeongin's long forefinger on the trigger.

"I have something else to offer!" The man cries out with his tear-streaked face while holding his hands up in defeat.

Jeongin keeps the gun pressed to the son's head and nudges him with it, tipping his head to the side.

"You don't have anything else that I desire so don't bother!" Jeongin says with sinister eyes, his finger curves around the trigger.

"Please!" The man cries again then crawls until he is close enough to his son, "No one knows about this but I'll let you have it!"

Jeongin is intrigued, he put his finger away and aims the gun elsewhere to make the man relax a little.

"What is it?"

The man is a stuttering mess still "...just... as precious... as my son!"

The son seems to know what his father is willing to exchange for his life. He was silent the whole time but starts grunting through his duct-taped mouth at the mention of it, that only means the man offers him something as precious, or even more.

"Keep it hidden..." the man stutters again, "...no one knows!"

Jeongin scoffs, pitying the so-called man who owns the Southside. He gestures for his man to get them up to sit them down on the worn-out sofa while he sits on the folded chair facing them.

Joon hands the man a drink but he hardly drinks them, the alcohol flooded out of the glass as he was taking a sip, the front of his shirt drenched with it.

"Now tell me more!"

The man wipes his mouth and nervously licks his lip, "I've been keeping this as a secret for years—"

The son grunts again, interrupting his father by headbutting his father's shoulder to stop him from talking and shooting daggers with his eyes.

"I don't have any other choice, son!" The father meekly says to him.

With his eyes, Jeongin orders Joon to hold the son for him so the father can speak in comfort.

Jeongin fills the man's glass with more alcohol and tells him to drink it.

"Relax!" Jeongin says to him as the man drinks his alcohol in one big gulp.

Jeongin pours himself a glass of alcohol and holds the glass close to his mouth.

He takes a moment to take it all in, that the man who owns the Southside is begging him to spare his son's life and he's about to offer him a precious gift in return.

He drinks his alcohol and it feels so sweet on a day like this.

Jeongin slams his empty glass on the table and folds his legs, "Let's do it again from the start, shall we?"

It's a slow day on a Monday morning.

You always take the time to take a personal tour around the gallery but the time you spend the most is admiring this painting of a flower field.

The longer you look at it, the more immersed yourself in it.

Maybe you're slowly losing your mind but you swear you feel like swaying away with the wind that is depicted in the painting, how it slips through the grass and brushes your skin.

Every time you look at the flowers, you can feel how soft their petals are without having to touch them.

You sigh and think of how beautiful it would be to just lay on that field with your hands turned up while looking up at the serene blue sky.

And how the painter weaves the delicacy in the painting, you sigh again at how amazing a few strokes of paint on a canvas can make you feel.

You want to meet the man who painted it but it seems impossible because the identity of the painter is still a mystery, they only go by the initial H.

"Is this painting for sale?"

You turn on your heels to find a man in a suit, hair as dark as midnight, sharp jaws, and a pair of foxy eyes.

"This painting?" You ask again, gesturing to the painting you've been admiring for a few days now.

He nods and takes a step forward, taking a closer look at the painting.

"You're the curator, aren't you?" He points to your ID card hanging around your neck.

"Yes." You answer with a smile.

He hums while nodding, "I want to buy this painting!"

You get the impression that this man knows nothing about painting and it's not the first time you met such customers. It's clear that he's one of those rich people who buy whatever they want as they please. They don't care about the price so what makes you think they will care about the art value of the painting they bought?

If they want to buy a painting on a Monday morning? They got it

Therefore, you don't have to waste time sharing some pieces of information about the painting, and leads him straight to where he can process his purchase which consists of signing some paperwork.

The man tells his assistant to do the rest while he walks up to you.

"Congratulations! You just bought a really beautiful painting!" You said to him with a courteous smile.

His foxy eyes deeply stare into yours again while he holds his hand out at you.

You don't hesitate to take it and shake his hand, "hope we get to see you again!

He doesn't say anything in return but keeps staring into your eyes like something wondrous is happening in them.

"Oh, I have a feeling that we'll see each other again real soon!" He confidently says as he lets go of your hand but not his eyes on you.

You don't walk him out of the gallery and let the director of the gallery do the task while you stay inside, watching him get into the car from the window of the second floor.

Rich people behave as they please because they are under the illusion that everything can be bought with money and you met some crude ones.

You met enough to know that he isn't trying to offend you yet he put you a little on edge.

The eyes tell all and his piercing eyes cut through you like a knife through the water.

On weekdays, the gallery closes at 4 pm and the time on your computer screen tells you it's already 25 past 5 pm.

"You're not going home, pup?" Mr. Shin asks. He is an art restorer who has worked for the gallery for almost a decade and still carrying the same leather briefcase since you joined two years ago.

"In a minute!" You replied while saving the files before you forget.

"I'm leaving," he announces.

"Don't want to upset missus again!" He adds while heading towards the door.

You softly laugh and get up from your office chair, "Be careful and send my regards to your wife!" You shout before he exits the door.

He responds with a smile then waves bye at you.

You didn't forget to turn the lights off before leaving the office and carrying your bag in one hand. You walk past the director's office and it seems like she's already left as well.

The security greets you as you exit the back door and you pull your car keys out of your bag since the car is already in sight.

"Excuse me!" Someone asks.

You are only a few feet away from your car when you turn around and someone suddenly holds you from the back, a hand covers your mouth to muffle your cry for help.

Another person ties your hands behind your back and then everything goes dark as someone puts a cloth over your head while your body is being lifted.

You hear a lot at the same time, a car coming and footsteps, someone whispering orders at the same time.

You try to scream but it's no use since you are the last person who left the gallery and no one is going to hear your screams, you also doubt someone is watching you getting abducted through the security footage.

But someone will watch and know and then help you, right?

Someone puts you down on you guess the backseat of a car and then there's the sound of the car door being slammed shut.

The car is moving and is taking you somewhere that you're afraid to guess where.

"Who are you?" You ask to the void or so you think since your head is covered in dark cloth and can't see anything. You believe there's someone else in the car with you because why would they let you alone, unguarded?

"Why are you doing this to me?" You ask again.

There's no answer and the car is taking a complicated route to avoid you know where they are taking you.

"I have nothing. I don't have money or anything. Kidnapping me will get you nothing!" You say again in a shaky tone as your thoughts rush through your head at a light speed and it seems like it's not slowing down any soon.

"Please, let me go!" You begged, this is the last effort you can do to get a response or anything.

But nothing, no answer but the car keeps moving, taking you to your uncertain future.

The car finally stops moving after an hour or so, you stop keeping track of time, and your brain is drained from endlessly thinking all sorts of thoughts, good and bad, everything in between.

They take you out of the car and walk you somewhere, dragging you by your elbow even though you can walk by yourself if they take the cloth off.

Your heels click-clacking against the floor you're walking on, and from the subtle slippery surface, you are sure it's a marble floor. The sounds echo so it gives you an idea of how big the place you are walking into is.

There's a creak coming from the door being pushed open, two big wooden doors from how you have to stop walking and that means the guy who escorts you have to push the door open with two hands.

"She's here!" The man who walks beside you announces.

He drags you by your elbow again and sits you down on a chair. After a moment of silence and someone cuts off the tie that shackles your hands, you take a deep breath before slowly lifting the dark clothing over your head. You close your eyes as the light starts to fill your vision all at once, blinding you.

You blink your eyes a few times to adjust to the light and the first thing you see is his eyes piercing right through your chest.

"Who are you and why are you doing this to me?" You asked since you're still curious as to why someone would bother to kidnap a nobody like you.

"So you don't know?" Jeongin asks back with a slanted grin.

"If you think you can get anything by kidnapping me, you're wrong!" You say again, looking up at him since he is sitting on the long wooden table.

He scoffs and fixes the cuff of his shirt, "but you are the hidden daughter of the Southside leader!"

You don't move despite knowing that you're no longer tied, no one knows this and no one even knows that you exist in the first place.

For the last 23 years since you were born, your father has successfully concealed your existence from the world, no one knows that you're the daughter of the Southside leader and you're grateful that you don't have to live with the notorious family name.

It seems like you are under the illusion that you'll always be safely hidden from the world.

Unless the two people that know about it give the secret away.

"Is it my father?" You guessed, he is the most likely to spoil a secret.

He doesn't respond but gets off the table, walks closer then stops right in front of your chair.

"I heard our fathers fought over your mother," he chuckles because it's baffling him as he recites the tale he heard from his jealous passing mother.

"And I wonder how beautiful she was that my father was willing to kill for her."

He takes even a closer step to your chair, "I saw her picture once and I admit that she really was beautiful."

His hand reaches for your face and holds your chin up with his fingers, observing your face like you're a statue.

"The resemblance is uncanny!" He sighs in disbelief.

"Don't fucking touch me!" You snarl, swatting his hand away from your chin.

He juts his lips then shrugs, "beautiful yet vicious!" He says then turns around on his heels.

"Let me go!" You shout at him.

"I have nothing to do with my father's business!!!" You tried again.

He sits behind a desk and ignores your demand, "Take her to the room and lock her up!" He orders the man who escorts you earlier which you recognize is the man you thought was his assistant back in the gallery.

He drags you by your elbow again and you yank your hand away, "I can walk by myself!"

Every day is the same.

You got locked up in your room, a maid only comes to serve meals on the tray if not to clean the room. The closet is filled with clothes from casual attire to ball gowns, you laugh at the irony because it's not like you have anywhere to go.

It has been two weeks, more or less, you stop counting the days because no one is coming to save you anyway.

You got thinner, weaker and your tears dried on their own from the countless night you spent crying yourself to sleep.

You're on the brink of losing yourself to insanity.

"Get up, you have somewhere to go in two hours!"

You don't have to turn your head away from the window to know that it's his right-hand man, Joon, you learned his name since he's the messenger between you and Jeongin.

"If you're not taking me to kill me in the middle of nowhere, I don't want to go!" You replied with a snide remark.

You might as well just die than live like this, chained to an evil man and this shit luck of a fate you have.

You hear Joon heavily sigh then leave, unbothered by your words.

An hour later, the door to your room flies open and heavy footsteps come your way.

"Get up!" Jeongin yanks you by your wrist and forces you to get up from the bed.

"Don't touch me!" You protest, trying to get your hand away from his grip.

"Then do what I tell you!" He says with a heaving chest and lets you go.

With so little energy you have, you stagger backward and fall back down on the end of the bed.

"What do you want from me?" You ask, rubbing your wrist to soothe the pain.

"I want you to obey me!" He replies.

Those piercing eyes have come to the point that they disgust you and make you sick to the stomach, "why should I?"

He bends down to look you dead in the eyes, "do I look like I want you here?"

His hot breath brushes your face as he speaks, "have you ever thought that maybe I didn't kidnap you?"

"Have you ever think why your family suddenly revealed their secret child after twenty years?" He asks, his words sting and your eyes start to water.

"Have you ever thought that maybe you're not that important to them?"

Every question he throws at you feels like a slap to the face and egging on your pain, opening your eyes to the reality of who's the real evil behind this.

He finishes with his forehead pressed on yours and says, "Do the fucking math, princess!"

You close your eyes and hot tears roll down your face, it surprises you that you still have any liquid left in your body to secrete.

"I want her to be ready in an hour!" Jeongin orders Joon and slams the door shut behind him.

"I have a few people to help you get ready," Joon says, he hesitates to get closer to you and stops after a step.

"I'll tell them to come up in 15 minutes!" He says, giving you a little time to mourn for your sad, cursed life.

You feel like a doll being dressed up as three people working at the same time to get you ready so Jeongin can show you off to everyone.

You're the hidden daughter of the Southside leader and you're an arm candy to the man who leads the Northside, after a few trips to his clubs, you learned his true intention. He wants to show the world the jewel crown of his achievement and that is having a Southside daughter under his feet, which will earn him respect and a lot more.

It's the same every other week, you come to the club and just sit still and look pretty next to him like a flower.

And he wants you to do nothing less or more than that.

But that night, a surprise guest comes to the club and insists on seeing Jeongin.

"It's someone from the Southside!" Joon whispers to him and he might have intentionally raised his voice louder so you can hear him too.

"Let him in!" Jeongin says and reclines on the leather sofa with a glass of drink in his hand.

You look at the doorway to see if it's a face you recognize from the Southside and your heart races when you see that it's your brother.

He makes a run for you but someone quickly stops him from getting close to you. He breaks out and sits on the sofa across from you.

"I want to talk to my sister!" He says to Jeongin.

Jeongin doesn't bother to look at the person he's talking to, he's more interested in looking at the sphere ice cube inside his glass.

"She's mine now!" He casually says like you are a mere object.

He puts his glass away and puts an arm around your shoulder, enjoying the hatred in your brother's eyes that is directed toward him when he does it.

"Why? Are you jealous that it's not you sitting beside me now?" He mocks with a lopsided grin.

"You fucki—" your brother holds himself back, knowing that it's not the right place to be reckless, he's powerless here.

He shifts his eyes at you with concern, "are you okay?"

You nod, the tears clogging your throat preventing you from talking.

"Did he hurt you?"

You shake your head but avoid looking him in the eyes.

"You can talk! It's okay," Jeongin says as he pours another glass of liquor.

Your brother's hands are balled into fists on his lap, "I'm sorry that you got caught in this!"

Jeongin stifles a laugh because he knows damn well who gets you into this mess in the first place.

"Its father isn't it?" You ask.

Your brother knows you'll catch up to it because you're smart, his face drops into his hands and he tries to come up with something to say.

"It's okay," you say.

"I know that he will always choose you over me," you tell him.

The nights you spent on your own made you rake your brain for any possible reason why you ended up here and then what Jeongin said earlier stuck with you. You finally come to this conclusion: your family has dumped you.

"He's not—"

"We all know he despises me. He wishes that I had never been born."

The truth hurts but it needed to be said.

Your brother is the only one who treats you like a family, hence he can't lie to your face, he knows that it's true.

Jeongin raises his glass at you, "You finally did the math! Good job!" He says with a sinister smile on his face

Your brother almost jumps at him for making fun of the situation, he succeeds to ignore his remarks and turns to look at you.

"But I care for you!" He sincerely says with his eyes looking deeply into yours.

He is your brother, the only person you trust and you've been relying on. But he's also the one who brought you into this mess.

Betrayal pains you the most when it's coming from someone who's closest to you.

You close your eyes to fight the tears from coming out, "that doesn't change anything," you unintentionally raise your voice at him.

"What difference would it make?"

"You can't save me on your own!"

"It's too late for that!"

You attack him with fact after fact and leave him tongue-tied, unable to speak. He can't find anything to say to defend himself, it is too late to save you now.

"Time's up!" Jeongin suddenly announces and gets up from the sofa.

Getting used to being his shadow, you follow him getting up from your seat and standing behind him. Two of Jeongin's men come into the room and hold your brother down by the shoulders.

Jeongin doesn’t have to say anything again to make you come with him, walking behind him as the two of you make your way to the exit.

Your brother grabs your hand as you walk past him, "I'm sorry."

You yank your hand away from him and look straight ahead, "you're not my brother anymore."

The music inside the club is deafening and the dress you're wearing is suffocating, the lump in your throat making it harder for you to breathe.

Maybe it's the fact that you just cut ties with the only person that you consider as family.

It feels like you just cut ties with the world altogether.

You broke down once you arrive back at the mansion and Joon rushes to help you, kneeling on the floor with an arm around you.

"Are you okay?" He asks, shaking you by your shoulders.

Jeongin turns on his heels and watches you while standing a few feet away from you, unfazed.

"Put your hand around me. I'll carry you to your room," Joon offers, taking your limp arm and putting it around his shoulder.

But your hand gropes around his chest and found the gun inside the pocket of his suit jacket. You succeed to pull it out real quick. Joon was quick enough to catch your hand and yank it back from you, but you don't let him take it away from you.

"What are you doing? It's dangerous!" His concerned voice turns into a mix of panic and an angry one.

He holds the gun but your hand is wrapped so tightly around it and with the strength you have, turning it at your head.

"Kill me! Kill me, please?" You beg with tears flooding your cheeks.

"Stop acting stupid!" Joon snaps at you while struggling to get the gun from you without hurting you in the process.

"I don't want to live anymore and you don't have any reason to keep me! They threw me away so kill me! Kill me!" You beg again.

Joon finally succeeds to get his gun back and hurriedly taking a step back, put the gun as far away as possible from you.

"Give her the gun!" Jeongin coldly orders. His voice cut through the quiet of the room and is as cold as the floor you're sitting on.

Joon who has just placed his gun back into its holster looks at him with uneasy eyes, "Pardon?"

"Give her the gun!" He enunciates the word one by one, confirming that Joon didn't mishear him.

"Make sure it's loaded too!"

Joon hesitantly does what he is told to do, emptying the clip and showing you that there's not one bullet missing. He loads the clip back into the gun, then hands it to you. There's a second of pause before he puts it on your open palm and guided your fingers to wrap around it.

It's cold and heavy in your hand, so this is what death feels like.

You look at the gun closely and take a second to admire the person who invented a tool that makes death as easy as pulling the trigger with your finger.

You roughly wipe your eyes since they're blurry with your tears then bring the gun close to your head and press the end under your chin.

All of a sudden, Jeongin let out a laugh and it echoes in the empty hall, "Now I see why they dump you!"

He laughs again and licks his lower lip, "if you put that bullet in your head, you're only proving that you are worthless and it was the right decision for them to dump you."

He put his hands behind him and observe you like you were a wounded animal in a cage, pathetic and helpless but he can't do anything about it.

He approaches you and leans down to look you right in the eyes, "If you hated it so much, why would you die with that name?"

His gaze lingers on and you can see the disgust in his eyes. And you hate that he is right, his words feel like a slap in your face.

He walks away and then stops on his track, slowly turning at you to say, "If I were you, I'll make a name for myself! Make them whisper my name in fear! Make them regret casting me out!"

Jeongin shoves both of his hands into the pockets of his trousers, "but of course, you're too weak for that too."

He laughs again and walks further into the house, "Please, don't bleed all over the marble floor. Joon can show you a better place to do it!" He nonchalantly says without looking at you.

He leaves you there, on the floor with the gun pressed under your chin.

Maybe he is right, you are too weak and you don't have it in you to live with your family name.

You loop your finger on the trigger but not pulling it yet.

"Just think about it! Please?" Joon begs again with a pleading voice, hoping to stop you from making a bad decision.

"I can't live like this!" You say between your choked sobs.

"I'll help you! I can help you!" Joon's offers come out of the blue.

"How?" You scream.

"Put the gun down first!" He commands.

Your finger lingers on the trigger and all you need is one gentle push then...

Then again, Jeongin is right, you don't have it in you.

Your hand goes limp and the gun falls off, clattering onto the floor.

Joon kicks the gun to get it away from you, then helps you get up as your body goes limp from malnourished, adrenaline, stress, and everything that makes you feel that you're dead inside.

Joon comes to your bedroom in the morning and makes sure you eat your breakfast, watching every spoonful of food that goes into your mouth.

"You've been doing it wrong!" He says as he goes to open the window and fills the room with fresh spring air.

"What?"

He sits on the stool across from you, "I've known Jeongin since we were little. We practically grew up together."

Isn't that obvious? Joon is the only person you know is the closest to Jeongin, it comes to your knowledge that he's not a part of the family so the only conclusion you have is that he grew up with him.

"I know him well enough to know that going against him will never get you anywhere," he explains, taking a piece of a ceramic miniature from your vanity table to play with it.

"You're only riling him up and making him detest you," he adds.

You can trust him, right? Because Joon has been nothing but nice to you.

"Then what should I do?" You ask.

"Soften him. Try to be good and just do whatever he says, I promise you he likes obedience more than anything."

He twirls the miniature in his palm and pauses, "no wait, obedience is the second on his list."

That intrigues you, "then what's the first?"

"Loyalty."

It's interesting. You thought that he would put his family over anything else.

"He has no reason to keep you here, that's true and perhaps, if you did soften him and the timing is right, it's possible to get what you want," he furtherly explains and leans against the vanity table.

Joon makes it sounds so easy to you, "I don't know that seems..."

He smirks at how you doubt him right away.

"Jeongin might seem difficult but you only need to know which button to push," he says and puts the miniature back in its place, "just one right button!"

He gets up from the stool and looks down at your breakfast tray, "maybe you can start by not looking like an ET first," he jokes.

You roll your eyes at him, slightly annoyed.

Everything that Joon shared with you stayed with you the whole day.

Jeongin never laid his hand on you to harm you unless it was necessary and it was always because you provoked him first.

He doesn't have any intention to harm you but keep you trapped here, being his little doll.

And maybe this little doll can gets what she wants if she sits still and looks pretty for him, nods to everything he says, and smiles because she doesn't know how to do anything else.

If that's what he wants, then you'll give him that.

The rose's rarest essence lives in the thorn.

For him, you are a rose but lack that rarest essence.

To be that beautiful yet so fragile, a delicate thing that is so exposed to the cruel, cruel world.

Should he help you grow some thorns or should he protect you more from the world?

He can't decide yet.

After that night when you went to your wit's end, something changed.

He admits he was too harsh at you that night but he knows he's right, but a little part of him still worries that you took his words by heart, or worst, broke you more.

You are broken, yes, but humans are never irreparably broken. We can always heal, we can always piece ourselves back little by little until we're whole again. We always do.

Maybe this change is you piecing yourself back together and he can see you.

A beautiful rose you are!

Blossoming smiles, the twinkle in your eyes, and the echo of your laughs in the hallways that are usually occupied if not by the dead silence, it's the heavy footsteps of his men coming with information for him.

He follows the source of the sound to find you helping in the kitchen, kneading dough on the kitchen island with your flour-dusted hands.

On another day, he watches you swimming from the balcony where he can see your body slicing through the water and the shape your body took as you come out of the water.

That quite resembles how Aphrodite was born. You weren't born from the foam of the sea but you do own the beauty of the goddess of love.

And if you're not swimming or walking around the garden, you hide in the greenhouse and read the book you secretly borrow from his library.

By the night before the old clock in the mansion struck midnight, you're already in your room and tucked in for the night.

This sudden obedience astounds him but at the same time, sparks his curiosity. There must be something behind all these good girl behaviors.

"Arrange a dinner!" He orders.

Joon puts down his glass of whiskey and takes out his phone, "the usual place?"

"Yes."

"How many people?"

"Two."

Joon slyly smiles, "it's not a business dinner, I reckon?"

Jeongin doesn't answer but looks out of the window and sees you walking out of the greenhouse.

"And get her ready for it!" He adds.

When it finally registered to him, Joon nods in acknowledgment and gets up from his chair.

"Sure!"

Jeongin booked the whole restaurant just for you and him where the chef cooks the dish from the finest ingredients and serves the most exquisite wine with its aphrodisiac smells that instantly relaxes you.

It's the first time that you're out of the mansion yet you seem so calm and collected.

Again, he admits that you look so beautiful in that dress, deep blue like the color of the pacific ocean.

You thanked and praised the chef for every meal, but you show less enthusiasm when they serve the desserts.

There's no meaningful conversation in between the meals so he wonders what changes.

"You don't like the dessert?" He asks.

You shake your head and smile, "it's just so pretty."

And you thank the chef again for it.

"Is there any reason why we're having dinner together?" You ask.

Jeongin triumphantly smiles, it's not hard to make you finally ask the question he wanted you to ask.

"Because you've been very good lately," he simply answers and lifts his wine glass to take a small sip.

"I think you deserve a nice dinner," he adds as he puts down his wine glass.

The night doesn't stop there, he takes you on a little stroll around the city just to see how are you going to react.

He wants to know if you're tempted to flee or pull an act, instead, he watches you shivering from the gust of cool night air.

He puts his suit jacket around your shoulders.

"Thank you," you sweetly mutter with the moon reflected in your eyes.

"Should we head home now?"

You nod with a smile.

Arrives back in the mansion, walks you to the door of your bedroom, and stands there in front of you, looking at your face with an intense gaze.

"Thank you for the dinner! I had a nice evening," you say to him.

He only smiles in response.

"Oh yeah, this," you shrug his jacket off your shoulders and hand it back to him.

He grabs your hand instead of the jacket from you, "Is there anything you want?"

Your eyes widen in surprise or maybe this is what you've been waiting for him to say.

He slides his hand up to your elbow then pulls you closer, "you can tell me and I'll give it to you."

With the other hand, he brushes your hair to the side and lightly caresses your cheek, "you deserve it," he says with a voice so low it's almost like a whisper.

You swallow air before answering, "I—"

Jeongin lifts your chin and forces you to look him in the eyes, he leans in close you can see yourself in the irises in his eyes.

"Come on, tell me..." he murmurs with his lips only inches away from yours.

You try again to focus on answering him, "I—"

This time, he cuts you off with a kiss.

He knows that those lips would be soft, but Jeongin doesn't expect them to be that soft.

He let the kiss sweep you away and takes you out of your head for a moment. It's just your lips on his lips in an enamoring kiss.

He can easily carry you to the bed and have you pinned underneath him, kissing you more, deeper, and harder that breathing is no longer necessary to him.

Doesn't want to waste another second, his hands start to explore your body, touching your miles and miles of silky smooth skin that make him whimper against your lips.

His hand goes down your thighs and pulls the hem of your dress so he can touch you there.

Then he can feel that you're stiffening under him, your legs are pressed shut and your hands are on his chest, keeping a space between your bodies.

No matter how much he likes kissing you, Jeongin abruptly stops and retracts himself from you.

He may be a bad person, but he's not a vile man who fucks a girl against her will.

"Don't force yourself, I know you don't want to do it," he breathlessly says.

You slightly get up from the bed, "but it is what you want, right?" You ask and reach for him again.

He jerks away and puts your hand away, "just tell me what you want!"

He met a lot of people and a lot more variety of evil people, but he knows the tricks people usually do to get what they want.

The dinner is just to let you know that he acknowledged your effort to get his attention and you did a wonderful job at it.

But now, it's time to find out what you want to gain from it.

"Let me go," you meekly answer.

"I am worth nothing anymore therefore I'm holding no value as your hostage. Just let me go and I'll disappear from your life forever," you breathlessly explain the reason behind your demand.

"I promise. Please, let me go!"

For a split second, you remind him of how your father begged for your brother's life. Thus, reminded him how easily he gave you away in an exchange for your brother.

It disgusts him how easy for you to say that you're worth nothing.

"I'll let you go," he says.

Your face lights up hearing his words.

"But with one condition!"

Your face goes dim in a second but there's a flicker in your eyes, "I'll do anything! Anything!" You eagerly say to him.

Jeongin fixes his shirt and his cuffs, "you have to marry me!"

And it's like all the happiness drained out of you in a second, your face turns pale and your hands fall to your lap.

"How can I marry you? We're— We— I don't even know you!" You stammer, confused and shocked at the same time.

Jeongin gets off the bed and picks up his suit jacket from the floor, "well, that wouldn't be hard since we're living together!" He nonchalantly says without looking at you.

He puts his suit jacket back on then walks to the door, he lingers there, then turns around to look at you one more time, "and don't worry. I'll never touch you again without your permission!"

Jeongin walks in the direction of his office for a quick talk with Joon but finds him as he walks past the dining room, eating by himself.

"Oh, I didn't know you were already home!" Joon gasps with a stuffed face, a red jam smeared in the corner of his mouth.

Jeongin pours himself a glass of water, "what are you eating?"

He slides the plate toward Jeongin and lets him have a piece.

"Cherry pie!" He exclaims as he bites into a piece of cherry from the filling.

"It's good, right?"

He shrugs but Joon knows him well enough to know that means he likes it.

"She made this all afternoon for tonight's dessert," Joon informs.

"You're lucky I left you some," he adds with a chuckle.

Jeongin takes another piece and shoves it into his mouth, feeling that burst of that tangy mix of sweet and sour. Now he knows why you look a little sad during desserts.

"Sweet," Jeongin says.

"I know right?" Joon chimes.

But Jeongin isn't talking about the pie.

It's been a week now but still.

Marry him?

Ugh, the more you replayed those words in your head the more pissed you are at him, the more you pissed the more you wanted to get as far away from him as possible.

But as far as you can get is the greenhouse.

And you've been stuck on the same page of the book you're reading because your head can't stop replaying his words that are impossible for you to fulfill.

Why did you have to say you'll do anything? Anything? You hit your forehead with the book repeatedly.

You can foresee your future from here and it looks grim.

You cover your face with the book next and hope that it will teleport you somewhere or the page magically sucks you into the story, Victorian era is way better than here.

How people back in the day are okay with arranged marriage? How is it okay for them to marry someone they don't know? How can they have a marriage without love? Why would they marry a...

"...this is going to work just like we planned! Trust me!"

You jolt awake from the long bench you're lying down on and hear someone talking just right outside the greenhouse. You can only make out the shape of them through the foggy glass wall, two men huddling together and whispering into each other's ears.

"If you look nervous, he'll know that we're up to something!" One man says to the other.

"We're just going to rob one of his compounds and what damage it will do? he'll only lose a little fortune, he'll forget it in no time.

For a man who persuades another man to commit treason, he's quite convincing.

"What makes you think he'll not suspect us?" The agitated man asks while rubbing his hands together despite the day being warm with a clear blue sky.

"We've been doing business together for years now, he trusts us and in my experience, he'll always pay back no matter how much."

The agitated man is intrigued, "so we're not only getting money from our rob but also getting the money back from him?"

The confident man laughs, "I told you, it's good money and we only need to pull it out once!"

The agitated man who seems to be the one with power is assured that the plan is going to work and trusts his accomplice.

You accidentally drop your book and it hits a potted plant, the two men hear and look around to find the source of the noise.

One of them wipes the glass clean and looks inside, you hurriedly squat down, hiding behind the row of potted plants.

"Are you calm enough now?" The confident man asks.

"I guess, yeah."

"Let's go then!" He says and starts walking toward the mansion.

Without thinking, you sprint out of the greenhouse and into the mansion through the kitchen door. You're going through one room to another to find Joon and tell him about two men conspiring against Jeongin. You must tell him before they come into the house.

You almost bump into the maid and quickly ask her if she sees Joon.

"He's in the office!"

You break into a run to go to the front office to the part of the mansion where Jeongin first took you, this is where he takes care of his business.

"Joon! Joon!" You call even though you're still a meter away from the door of the office.

You open them all at once then close them behind you, you sigh when you see him inside.

"Joon, I have to tell you something, there are..." you pause to catch a breath while clutching your chest.

"It's not a good time!" Joon tells you as he approaches you.

You get to him first and grab him by the elbow, "It's important, I swear!"

Joon looks away to the other side and you follow to where he's looking, the two men are already there, sitting at the long table.

"We have guests," Joon tells you, "but if it's that important, you can tell me!"

You smile at the two men and then look back at Joon, "I'll tell you later!"

He wrinkles his eyebrows in confusion.

You get out of the office and run to Jeongin's bedroom, it's your last chance to let him know that someone is planning bad to his compound.

You break into his bedroom without knocking and find him tying his tie in front of the full-length mirror, he only looks at you for a second before back looking at his reflection, totally unbothered by the sudden visit you make to his bedroom.

"Haven't you been avoiding me lately?" He says, setting the knot close to his collar.

"Or you've given up already?"

You scoff at his words but for the innocent lives that will be taken in his compound, you're willing to let it slide.

"They're going to rob your compound!" You hurriedly say before forgetting why you came here for.

That catches his intention and he turns around to face you, "who?"

"The two men who just came in today!" You tell him.

"The Park brothers?"

"They're brothers? But they're different"

Jeongin gives you a perplexed look.

"Anyway," You immediately retrace your conversation back to where you started.

"They're going to turn against you!"

Jeongin walks up to the chair and grabs his cufflinks from a velvet box.

"They paid a few men to rob your compound, the one where you produced their order and they will blame it on you so you'll have to pay what you owe them but also get the money from the products they robbed!" You explain as detailed as possible and make it concise due to the limited time you have.

"They're not going to do that," he coyly says and picks up his suit jacket.

"I heard them talking when I was in the greenhouse. Trust me!" You beg, following him to wherever he goes in his bedroom.

He turns around and almost bumps into you, "I've been doing business with them for years and so far, I have no problem with them so why should I trust you whom I have only known for a few months?" He asks.

Is this his way to get back at you for rejecting his marriage proposal because you said you didn't know him well enough to marry him?

"You don't have to trust me then," you say.

Jeongin puts his suit jacket on with his back facing you.

"But you have to know that the lives of the men working in your compound are threatened. Do it so you don't have to regret not trusting me."

But he seems to be unfazed by your words and takes one last look in the mirror.

"Are you done talking?" He asks.

You sigh because he chooses not to trust you and you see him walk to the door.

"Why would I lie to you? What good it would do to me for lying to you?" You shout at him.

But he opens the door and leaves you alone in his room, in his big, spacious, and lonely room.

The fear keeps you awake the whole night.

The fear of the guilt that you will carry your whole life for knowing something evil is going to be done yet you did nothing to stop it.

You tried and you failed.

But the guilt, you believe will keep haunting you.

The mansion is eerily quiet tonight and it only heightens your fear.

Then you hear footsteps in the hallway and you quickly get up from your bed to see who it is. You see Joon opening the door to the front office and getting inside.

You don't care if you're intruding again but you need to know if something happened, good or bad.

"Joon?" You call from the door.

He stops rummaging through the drawer of Jeongin's desk and sighs when he sees you, "Is that what you were going to tell me earlier?"

Your hands are shaking from anxiety, "did something happen?"

"You're the one who told Jeongin that the Shin brothers are conspiring against him?"

You stifle a nod, afraid that it was all just a trap the Shin brothers set up for you and you fell into it.

"What happened? Tell me!" You insist.

He rushes to you and squeezes your shoulder, "thanks to you that everyone in the compound is safe!"

It's like a giant invisible rock has been lifted off of your chest and you can properly breathe for the first time.

"Oh thank God!" Your knees got weak and you hurriedly sit on one of the empty chairs.

"Jeongin ordered a few men to catch the robbers first before they could execute their plan," Joon furtherly explained.

You let out a long breath and recline on your chair, "then what about Jeongin?"

"He's still taking care of it and I'm here to grab the contracts," he briefly shows you the paper he takes from the drawer.

You sigh again.

"Don't worry, he's okay and I have to get back now," he says, putting the contract paper into a briefcase while checking his phone and furiously typing a message on it at the same time.

"You'll be safe in the mansion," he says before leaving.

It's not like you have another choice but to wait until they get back and you hope when they do, they are back safely.

It takes them a day to take care of it.

A few years' worth of business is blown by one stupid plan, you can only guess there is a lot of mess to sort.

But only Joon comes back and you don't know why you feel a little disappointed.

Joon is a very observant person, he can see even the faintest of expression change on your face.

"He has a lot of things to handle at the moment," Joon tells you, "he'll be okay."

You look down at your book, "I'm not asking," you say.

"Yeah, but I just want to let you know," he says, saving you from being embarrassed about asking Jeongin.

On the following day, Jeongin is back but he comes home very late at night and you take a peek through the crack between your bedroom doors of him entering his bedroom.

You get back to your bed and have the most restful sleep you've ever gotten in a while.

In the morning as you're having breakfast in your room, Joon comes with a file and a pen, then puts it next to your tray.

"Sign on the highlighted part," he says then put a pen on

"What is this?" You ask.

You are about to read the content when Joon snatches

snatching it away, "Just sign it, quick, we don't have much time!"

"I can't just sign without knowing what I'm signed up for!" You say with a glare.

"Trust me! I swear it's not something bad but you'll regret not doing it," he says with a smile.

Joon has that sweet smile of a boy and you can't help but smile back at him.

"Trust me, okay? When did I ever lie to you? Never, right?" He assures you.

Joon has been nothing but kind to you and he's indeed honest, maybe for this once you trust me for everything he had done for you.

"Okay," you cave in and uncap the pen to place your autograph where he instructed you.

"There!" You hand him the pen back.

Joon closes the file with a satisfied grin and holds it under his arm, "Congratulations! You officially become the new owner of this painting!"

He signals someone from outside your bedroom and you crane your neck to see them carrying a big painting, it's still wrapped so you can't see which painting he talked about.

Joon gestures for them to step aside, "you want to do the honor?"

"You want me to unwrap—"

He eagerly nods even before you can finish your sentence. You put your napkins away and walk toward the painting, carefully ripping the thin brown wrapper to slowly reveal the painting.

A part is unveiled and you can tell already what painting it is, you gasp with your hands covering your mouth.

"There is no way!" You say in disbelief.

Joon grins seeing your reaction and lets you continue ripping the whole wrapper.

It's the painting you adore so much, The Flower Field by H.

"Oh, this is so beautiful!"

You still can't wrap your head around the fact that it's so beautiful it evokes so many emotions in you, the flowers that are swaying with the gust of wind and the soft pink sky above, at how you want to lay in the flower field. How peaceful that would be!

"You want it hung in your room?" Joon asks.

"Of course!" You answer rather too passionately.

You stand next to Joon as the men start working to hang the painting in place.

"What did I do to deserve this?"

"It's a gift from Jeongin for you," Joon answers.

You snap your head in his direction, "Isn't this too much for a gift?"

As a curator who watched over this painting for a few months, you know how valuable it is and how much it costs. This is not just a gift for you, it's a promising investment.

"Well, you saved everyone in the compound and he believes that alone costs a lot more than this painting," he says.

He leans in close to your ear, "I'm quoting his words, by the way, not mine."

It takes you aback and you feel so warm inside, "but still, I don't feel good for accepting it," you meekly say.

"You already signed the certificate, you can't do anything about it but I suggest, a little thank you will do."

You chuckle, "thank you!"

"I only did the legal stuff, but you're welcome," he replies.

And before he can add anything else, you say, "I will thank him too."

The two of you continue admiring the painting hung on the wall

of your bedroom, it will take you some time to get used to seeing it before bed and as the first thing you see in the morning.

Jeongin hates to be compared with other people, especially his father.

His father was his own person and a role model to him, he aspires to be like him. A man with so much charisma and poise, a man that didn't need to explain who he was because everyone already knew.

Jeongin can't duplicate him and he doesn't intend to.

He wants to lead like him but not to copy every move he made.

He wants to be... himself.

"Am I that easy?" Jeongin asks, gripping his crystal glass so hard.

"What do you mean?" Joon asks back.

"Am I that easy for everyone to dare to try and fool me?"

"Hey, no one saw that coming and it's not your fault that they chose to betray," Joon comforts him.

"If anything, they should not mess with us and you show it to them."

Jeongin finishes his liquor and put the glass down on his desk. He fills it with more liquor and one more ice cube, his eyes notice the transfer of ownership paper on the pile on his desk.

"The painting?"

Joon stops flipping the files he is reading, "it's hung in her bedroom."

Jeongin doesn't need to know the rest, knowing that you receive the gift is enough so he drinks the whiskey he pours.

"You should see her face, she likes it so much!" Joon adds.

Jeongin pours another and brings it with him as he looks out the window.

You're swimming at night, that's a first.

He puts his glass down and walks out of his office, taking slow walks until he arrives at the swimming pool. The water appears blue from the lights and your body glides under, seamlessly like you're one with the water.

He silently watches your body swimming back toward the edge and breaking through the water's surface.

There it is, how Aphrodite was born.

He sees how you are slightly surprised to see him there, standing at the edge of the pool.

You slowly climb the steps to get out of the water and Jeongin immediately reaches for the bathrobe lying on the sunchair, he takes it and offers to put it on you.

He promises not to touch you but allows himself to do a little chivalrous thing like this.

"A hot night?" He asks.

"Yeah," you hesitantly answer.

You turn around and slip your hands into the sleeves, finishing it by tying them together.

"Thank you," you mutter to him without looking him in the eyes.

After a few days of rarely seeing each other and you already change again, a little timid but still the same sweet girl.

"Are you going back to your room?"

"Yes."

"Can I walk you there?"

"Sure."

Just another little chivalry, no physical contact, totally safe and not against the rules.

Jeongin only needs to take his mind off things and just quietly walking the hallway with you does work for him.

"I'm glad that you made the right choice and everyone is safe," you suddenly say, breaking the silence.

"It's all thanks to you," he simply states the fact.

"I was just a mere messenger, you were the one who made the decision," you state another fact back at him.

He feels bad for doubting you back then, if you didn't ask him what good it would do for you to lie to him then he would choose not to believe you.

Your obedience still needs some work but you are an honest person and it pours out of you, that's what makes you so fragile.

And in the world he lives in, honesty comes with a price.

"Thanks for walking me back," you say and snapping him out of deep thought.

Does his mansion shrink by its size or the trip from the l swimming pool to your bedroom has always been this short?

He looks at you and the drops of water rolling down your neck, the wet hair stuck to your face.

He fights the urge to not put them away and shoves his hands into the pockets of his trousers.

"Goodnight!" He mutters.

"Goodnight!" You say back and push open the door.

Jeongin is about to walk to his bedroom when you call his name and come up to him.

"I have something else to say to you," you say and put the hair curtains on your face behind your ear.

"What is it?"

"I want to thank you for the painting," you say with eyes gleaming, something about it that resembles a pool of stars.

"Don't mention it. It's nothing if you compared it with the lives you saved that day," he says, resisting pulling his hands out of his pockets to touch you.

"You know how much I like that painting so I want—"

He cuts you off and he doesn't want to hear you which gives him the impression that the gift is burdening you.

"It's nothing really, you—"

Then you cut him off as well with a kiss, it's a soft peck with your plush lips against his and it makes him feel like he's floating in the air, nothing is going to bring him down.

You let go of the kiss with a shy smile and look down at your feet.

"Thank you and goodnight," you mutter so fast that when his brain finally processed your words, you're already back inside your room.

That isn't a little chivalry yet it's not a violation because he is not the one who initiated it.

But it feels good, isn't it? Breaking the rules.

"Where are we going, Joon?"

Joon rushes you to get dressed after breakfast and now, you're on the way to the airfield where a private plane is waiting.

"A business trip," he answers.

"Why am I part of this business trip?" You ask out of curiosity because they've been on so many business trips and why all of a sudden they take you in one.

"He reckons you need some fresh air," he replies.

"Oh?"

So it's Jeongin's idea to take you, not Joon's.

When you meet on the plane and you keep your head down, walk to the seat, pick up your book, and don't try to engage in a conversation with him.

You don't know what led you to kiss him on the lips, you plan on thanking him and that's it. It crossed your mind to kiss him on the cheek at the last minute but by the time of the execution, you didn't know why but your lips found him and kissed.

Now, you have to deal with the consequence of it and it's to always avoid his eyes, trying not to make any eye contact with him.

Joon seems to be oblivious about it though, thank God for that! Jeongin is not a schoolboy who kissed a girl and then told his friend afterward.

He's the leader of the Northside for God's sake, you remind yourself.

He kidnapped you and imprisoned you in his mansion, he'll not let you go unless you agree to marry him. You're supposed to hate him, aren't you?

Once you arrived in your hotel room, Joon takes you to your room and helps you with your bag.

"A hotel suite just for myself?" You ask.

It takes only one look to know that it's bigger than the apartment you once lived in and the ceiling-to-floor window that overlooks the city is so captivating.

Joon takes that as a joke and chuckles, "I'll be back in a few minutes!"

He goes back inside to tell you, "don't try to do anything funny!"

You walk to the liquor cabinet and open it to show mini bottles of all brands of alcohol inside, "you mean I can't get drunk in the middle of the day?"

He chuckles again, "yeah, especially that!"

After Joon leaves, you take time to look around the hotel suite and drag your suitcase to the bedroom, sitting on the bed while touching the fine fabric of the sheet.

You give in to the temptation and lay down on the bed, exhaling a long breath that is long overdue only for the thoughts to go back into your head again.

That Jeongin kidnapped you, took you into his mansion, and locked you up, the only way out is to marry him.

You are supposed to hate him, you said in your head.

You close your eyes and inhale a deep breath, filling your lungs with as much oxygen to let your body relax.

The knocking on the door snaps you awake and you hurriedly open it.

"Are you ready?" Joon asks.

You tip your head to the side, "what?"

"I told you, I'll be back in a few minutes," he says and puts something inside the inner pocket of his suit jacket.

"But you didn't say we're heading out!"

He grabs your bag from the chair and pulls you along with him, "everything is ready, let's go!"

It feels nice to be out of the mansion for a while and have a little sightseeing as the car ride around the city, but it seems like Joon has one particular place to take you.

Then you see the banner from outside the gallery, it's an exhibition of your favorite painter, the painter H.

"You should have said that you're taking me here, I would have come running to the lobby!" You playfully remark.

Joon lets you walk and look around on your own while he's following you from behind at a safe distance.

Looking at all of the paintings and being surrounded by them transport your back to the days working in the gallery, your routine of making a round before the opening hours with a coffee in your hands and spending time looking at your favorite pieces of art.

You can only dream of going back to those days.

You're so deep in your thought that you didn't notice a man standing next to you.

"It seems like you were deep in it," he says.

You politely smile and glance his way, "Yeah, I was."

He's beautiful, shiny dark hair with a faint mole under his left eye. He's dressed in a white t-shirt and jeans with a flannel shirt hung loosely on his shoulders, he looks a bit older but he wears what a typical art student wore to school.

"What do you think?" He asks.

It's the first time you talk to someone else apart from Jeongin and Joon or anyone working in the mansion. You find it hard to calibrate yourself to society again.

"Mmh?"

"The painting?"

You look back at the painting and try to verbalize your thoughts into words, "I've seen every painting in this exhibition and he used a lot of color blue, but the kind of blue that is so... gloom and cold," you comment.

"Then in each painting, there is an element of red in there, deep red, crimson..." you clasp your hands together in front of you.

"I don't know it's just... that the blue look like the color of a dead body and the red is blood oozing out of a wound," you finish with a small smile.

He nods but not saying anything. Then he lets out a laugh, a laugh that tells so much but nothing at the same time.

You quickly add something to back your previous remark, "It's just so different from the previous collections, they're tender and vivid and lively like forever blossoming flowers."

He turns to you again and praises, "You have good eyes!" praises.

You awkwardly laugh, "I'm a curator."

Then you remember you stopped working one month ago, "I was," you correct.

He looks at you and you feel like you're shrinking in size the longer his gaze lingers on you.

"Do you have a favorite?"

"From his works?"

"Yeah."

"The Flower Field," you answer without a beat.

He nods again and looks straight ahead, "nice."

"I have it hung on my bedroom wall," you brag with a smile and you realize how cheap that is but who else is going to hear you brag about owning his painting? Also, this man knows how to appreciate art and you will never meet him again anyway.

But the answer seems to surprise him that he walks away. Or maybe you shouldn't brag about the painting in the first place.

Joon comes up to you while talking on the phone, "are you done?"

"Yeah, I'm done looking around."

At this point, you stop asking Joon where he'll be taking you next. After a late lunch, he takes you to a boutique and you guess that you'll be dressed for something tonight.

All these times you have someone picked a dress for you and you had no choice but to put it on. Today, you have the perk of choosing the dress and taking the time it needed to try to find the perfect one.

It baffles you how much effort you put into this, but you remind yourself that you're not dressing up for a man, you're dressing up for the enemy.

"I have one more favor!"

"Since when did you ask?" You say with a subtle eye-roll, fiddling with the strap of your purse because you have no idea why you are so nervous.

He scoffs but lets this one slide, "look, it's important that you make the entrance at the right time."

Seeing that Joon's face turns serious, you intently listen to him.

"Now, here's what you have to do," he leans in close and whispers instructions into your ear.

Jeongin has lost a few million dollars already.

Poker is never his favorite game to play, but reading their faces is what he's good at.

Except for Mr. Yamada, he's a little tricky. He maintains unwavering eyes and shows the slightest bit of gestures, he hides his cards well. He's an experienced player and has been in the game longer than Jeongin's reigns in the Northside.

That's why he raked over almost a hundred million already.

Jeongin needs a little distraction to penetrate his enemy's mind and try to beat his game.

"Mr. Yang, your bet?" The dealer asks, derailing his train of thought.

"How much?" Jeongin calmly asks.

"1 million, sir!"

Jeongin looks at his cards once again and calculates his odds, he's not going to win with them.

Then the doors to the private casino lounge open and the sounds break the thick, intense silence in the room, all heads turn to see who it is.

Magenta, a color that never comes to his attention until he sees it on you, on a dress that reveals just enough to make everyone coo in awe.

And you make eye contact with him, don't stray for a second until you arrived next to his seat.

Then you lean down and gently, kiss him on the cheek.

It's a part of his plan, a distraction that he needed but he didn't know that he'd be just as distracted.

"I'm sorry for coming late," you softly speak then places a hand on his shoulder.

You look at everyone around the table and then back at him, "Good luck, darling!" You sweetly say.

Jeongin takes your hand and places a kiss on your knuckles before letting you go.

"Sir?" The dealer asks him again.

"Sorry, yeah, one million, isn't it?" Jeongin intentionally stammering his words.

He throws the chip to the middle of the table and when it's time to reveal the cards, he loses another game.

But this will be the last because now he knows how to outsmart Mr. Yamada's slick poker face.

Sometimes, in gambling, you don't need to play smart or dependent on your luck or pull an intricate trick, sometimes you just have to follow your guts.

That's what Mr. Yamada doesn't have.

He's old, he runs out of a sense of recklessness and that impulsiveness, so he plays safe.

Good thing Jeongin doesn't want to play safe, he pushes all of his chips to the center of the table.

"All in!" He coyly says that those chips don't worth more than ten million dollars.

After a moment, he finally comes to a decision.

"All in!" He calls Jeongin's bluff.

There's a total of roughly fifty million on the table and all the eyes are on him, waiting in anticipation.

"It's time to show your cards, Mr. Yamada!" The dealer points at him to open his cards first.

He slides the cards on the table and flips them open at once, he lets out a snarl for getting a straight.

Everyone gasped in surprise, probably pitying Jeongin who may lose all of his money.

Jeongin's face drops a little but it's time to show his cards, he slides them to the dealer which he takes then turns them over.

"Straight flush!" The dealer announces.

That's when Jeongin finally let out his triumphant smile, victory is sweet but seeing his opponent's losing face is even sweeter.

"Mr. Yang wins!" And the dealer rakes every chip from the table to Jeongin's side.

Jeongin flicks one chip worth a thousand for the dealer as a tip and gets up to grab a drink for himself. Or that was his plan until he sees you standing with Joon from across the room.

His secret weapon, a distraction that got him distracted as well and almost derailed him from his plan.

"Good game!" Joon beams at him with an exciting laugh but he soon understands that he's only getting in the way when he notices that Jeongin's eyes are on you, "I'll get you a drink!" He says, then leaves him with you.

You sip your champagne and smile, "Congratulations!"

"I should thank you for that good luck kiss," he calmly says and grabs a glass of champagne from a server, he gulps it down in one go.

"I'm glad that worked," you say and finish your glass.

Tonight, he meets the feisty you that he rarely meets.

He puts his hand against the table to block you from leaving, "I wonder what kind of luck I would get if I got more than just a kiss on the cheek," he says

You crack a laugh, "it's ironic because you need the luck to get more than that," you say, boldly looking back into his eyes.

But Jeongin's eyes are focusing on those lips, lips that he kissed and vividly remembers how it tastes.

He takes a step forward but maintains a little space in between, "I—"

Someone comes from behind him and taps him on the shoulder. It's Mr. Yamada and he comes to congratulate him.

"Brilliant game, Mr. Yang!"

Jeongin lets you go and takes Mr. Yamada's kind offer for a handshake, "you almost had me there!"

The old man chuckles then shift his to you, "and this lady had me!"

You let out a polite smile, "oh? Me?"

"I don't have to tell you how beautiful you are! Everyone here is captivated by you!" He compliments with a charming smile for a man with salt and pepper hair.

"Oh, thank you!" You respond with another courteous smile.

He offers his hand at you, "would you have a dance with me?"

"Certainly!" Your answer and for a second forget that Jeongin is there with you.

Mr. Yamada sees the glance you throw at him, "Mr. Yang, you don't mind me borrowing your fine lady for a dance, right?"

Jeongin fixes his bowtie and smiles, "Not at all!"

He shouldn't be worried about you having a dance with an old man, he's not that petty. He earned millions of dollars tonight, he should be happy with it.

But seeing you having a great time and waltzing around the place, he agrees that Mr. Yamada is a pleasant man to be with.

He can be one too if he wanted.

"Your drink!" Joon comes with his third glass of drink and he's getting just as agitated with Jeongin throwing icy glares at Mr. Yamada.

"Poor old man just wants a dance," Joon comforts him.

Jeongin scoffs but not answering.

"Go get your turn then if you're so annoyed," Joon says and pushes him toward the dancing floor that Jeongin almost sloshes his drink onto his tuxedo.

Lucky that he knows Joon since they were little or else, he would have his men teach him a lesson. He throws a dagger through his gaze at Joon but he can only laugh at him in return.

And the sound of your laugh is getting louder now, he hates that he isn't the one that can make you laugh that loud.

He stomps his way to Mr. Yamada and taps his shoulder, "I think it's my turn now," he says straightforwardly.

Mr. Yamada laughs at him then at you, "someone is impatient!"

You notice how his jaws clenched and hurriedly let go of Mr. Yamada's holds on you, "I had a great time, thank you!"

"Likewise!" He says to you and kisses your hand before parting.

Yet Jeongin just stands there and looks at you.

"Aren't we going to dance?" You ask.

Jeongin immediately takes your hand and starts dancing with you by placing the other hand on your waist. Takes him a moment to adjust his body for a dance or he is just nervous but doesn't want to show it.

"Does winning millions of dollars not enough for you?" You say with your cheek barely touching his.

"Why should I win you? You're already mine!" He simply states a fact.

"Men and their obsession with possessions!" You say with cute but condescending low chuckles.

Your warm breath brushes his cheek and reminds him of the kiss you placed earlier, as light as a feather yet so addictive.

"Did you forget that your only way out is to legally become mine?"

The smug on your face fades a little, "Thanks, I really do need the reminder!"

Jeongin doesn't mean to turn the mood sour, something in you that makes him get easily provoked. While all he wants is to tell you how breathtakingly beautiful you are and how much he wants to touch you.

But in order to do that, he has to earn your permission first.

"You're—"

"It's getting boring," you abruptly stop dancing and let go of him altogether, "I want to go home!"

Jeongin yet again rubs you the wrong way.

He hasn't yet to find any ways to handle you with care when you're like this. You walk so fast in front of him, and can't wait to get in the car and go home.

"You did it again!" Joon grumbles at him while also walking fast to catch up with his pace.

Jeongin can't defend himself, because he did blow his chance.

"Slow down! The cars are not here yet!" Joon shouts at you, giving up chasing after you, and goes to the valet service.

He knows he shouldn't go near you, it will only piss you off more but seeing you rubbing your hands up and down your arms, he comes to offer his suit jacket.

Something stops him on his track.

An inkling, a gut feeling.

Maybe it's an instinct or maybe he's been in the same situation one too many times.

He can feel that something is not right, he is almost certain that something bad is going to happen soon. He looks around the place and scans through a group of people crowding the entrance of the casino.

There, he sees it, a man pulling out a gun from the inside of his jacket.

Without thinking, he dashes toward you and throws himself at you, shielding you from whatever comes your way.

Then...

BANG!

There are screams and shouts, people scramble to safety.

But all he sees is you, the terror in your eyes with your hands clutching onto the front of his shirt.

He wraps his body around you and says, "I'm right here, you're—"

But before he can finish his words of comfort, there comes another one.

BANG!

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#stray kids smut #skz smut #i.n smut #skz Jeongin smut #i.n x reader #skz x reader #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #stray kids scenarios #skz scenarios #skz fanfics #skz fics #kpop smut #kpop fics #kpop fanfics #seospicy smut

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pittdpeaches · 4 months

Note

Hi there! Sorry if you’ve already been asked something similar to this haha-

Do you have any writing tips? Anything you wish you’d known earlier? Things you would suggest avoiding?

I’m also curious how you plan your fics if you don’t mind sharing haha

aaaaa hello hello! Apologies for not getting to this sooner, I've been in the process of going to study abroad, but I have some time to sit down and answer this properly. I'm not sure if I have things I wish I'd known or advise you to avoid, but I can share writing tips and fic processes.

Way back in like, october 2022, I made a huge google doc with like 12 different fic ideas I had. I go back to it now and again and add some ideas, or work on others. If I'm particularly inspired by something, I may even make it into a bigger doc. Usually I have an idea of what story I'd want to write and a handful of scenes seared in my head, and it's just a matter of adding scenes in between to get to the Big Stuff. A lot of the time, the story I start with shifts from there in order to justify getting to the original scenes I've planned out.

For example: Genus Datura was supposed to be a sickfic/intoxication fic where Red Son got so fucked up he started genuinely believing MK was his husband, because there was No Way this was real, he had to be dreaming, while a very real, *not* married MK tried to take care of him. The main scenes in my head were the hair washing scene and Red Son throwing up all over MK, but it was a matter of stretching it out into a bigger plot. I wasn't sure *how* Red Son would get into that state, so I did some research and found out jimsonweed is a very poisonous plant that causes hallucination and even death.

This bit of research was great because I could use an element from the actual show in the fanfic, but it also changed the story's tone. It wasn't a silly fic about Red Son spilling his affections to a very real MK-Red Son gets genuinely poisoned, and believes MK is proof of that. It also changed the reason why Red Son was working with the crimson jimsonweed-Princess Iron Fan needed him to work on it, which meant this was to some degree, Princess Iron Fan's fault.

Sometimes, it's less a matter of research changing the fic and more stream of consciousness? I didn't plan for the car scene between Red Son and MK in Genus Datura, but it just sort of poured out the more I wrote, and I went along with it.

While I do sometimes play with the idea of writing the sillier genus datura, I'm really happy with how it turned out. I enjoyed the writing process for it immensely.

I have a pretty spastic writing schedule-I'll do huge 5-8k chunks of writing over the course of a couple hours or a single day, and then just *not* write for a couple days or even a week. I wouldn't say it's the *healthiest* schedule per say, but it works for me and I'm overall pretty content with it. That being said, if you can stretch your writing out over the course of several days rather than jamming it into one, I'd recommend that more to others lmao.

So, here's some advice:

Firstly, make an outline. I'm not a big outlining person myself, I usually just have the chapter number and like, a short blurb about what I want to happen, but that alone is good enough. There's nothing worse than having a scene in your head and then completely forgetting it when you sit down to write three days later.

Take your time writing! Schedules and deadlines you create for yourself are handy if you want consistency, but life isn't consistent, and sometimes you need to be lenient with yourself. Write what you can, and if you can't some days, don't.

If you're stuck on something, genuinely go outside. Or stay inside, doing something completely different. Work on something else. The brain is fascinating-it works on things even when we don't really think about them. Give yourself some time away from your story and eventually, it'll come to you.

Play around with your ideas, even if you don't expect them. You might change something you thought was an integral aspect of the story at some point, and you might switch it out for something you'd just came up with on the spot. And that's okay. If this is where the story wants to take you, then go along for the ride.

Most importantly I think is that no matter how silly or stupid you think your writing is, someone out there will love it. Even if you don't get as many views or likes or comments as you'd hope, someone out there keeps your work close to their heart. You've worked hard on something, and you should be proud of that :D

Hope this all helped!!! It's a VERY long response, sorry about that rgurithjn.

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thefamilyeldritchabomination · 10 months

Text

Chapter Seventeen: Eve of the War Pt. 5

There was a pause in the conversation, partially due to the hot pot arriving with the selected menu items and partially to Envy debating how much information would be alright to give out. It was clear Edward wasn’t going to drop this matter and it annoyed Envy greatly, this table was too small for two stubborn individuals to be sitting at. Dolly sat uncomfortably at the whole thing, having just met Ernest and now learning that another set of people she hadn't met before knew a bit about her. The only thing Dolly was grateful for at this point of time was that it didn’t result in a spontaneous cannibalism episode from the nearby human population. Deep in thought and anxiety, Dolly nearly dropped her glamor upon feeling a hand to her shoulder with a slight grip to it. Envy had gotten Dolly’s attention, dragging her back to the reality of the situation. Composing herself, Dolly looked back at Envy who was looking a bit concerned that Dolly would space out a bit like that.

“Yes, Envy?” Dolly calmly said, hoping that the Elric boy would drop the subject.

“Would you be alright with me explaining your situation in this or would you rather have this topic be dropped?” Envy asked before shuddering to themself about this new emotion called ‘concern’.

“It seems stable, so it should be alright to reveal some things. Not a whole lot mind you, I know that the family would be on the offense about this.” Dolly gave the consent to reveal some information about herself, hoping it won’t trigger anything down the long run.

“Right, because Dolly has proven to have mutagenic blood and the fact that Snickerdoodle is still very much alive to this very day, going far past the normal lifespan for a hamster, it means that her blood grants eternal life. Truth be told, I don’t want to deal with the corpse hag my whole existence and the fact she’d be a whole lot more horrific than before makes it a very unsavory situation.” Envy snarkily responded to Edward, not pleased with the fact they have to be civil towards their younger brother.

“...is she a god of some kind?” Edward asked, giving Dolly a wide eyed look at what exactly she could do. “No…please stay an atheist kid…” Dolly quickly shut that shit down, not wanting to handle a potential cult with her murder happy best friend.

“I’m agnostic, but sweet, I get to pull that card next time.” Edward perked up at the possibility of getting to tell people he’s an atheist because a god said so as Greed broke out laughing his ass off.

“Pipsqueak, she’s a homunculus like us.” Envy protested at once on Dolly’s behalf as Greed’s laughter started to die down.

“Lady, this was exactly the sort of laugh I needed after the hell we all went through with that horrible red monster over in the kid.” Greed finally said as he grinned at what went down.

“Ernest isn’t a monster, he’s just a jelly donut loving lion with a rather chaotic sense of justice is all…” Alphonse said in Ernest’s defense, Ernest giving Alphonse an approving thumbs up at the description.

“Yeah well, look, Dolly, since he came from you, could you please take Ernest back with you? Granny seriously doesn’t want him back in her household and I can’t keep spending my earnings on donuts.” Edward requested as he carefully removed Ernest from Alphonse’s chest cavity.

“...I’d have to talk to Freddy first on that part, Ernest did eat a huge chunk of his arm shortly after being made..” Dolly said as she let Dorian take a peek at his older brother from across the table.

“Ernest did what now?” Edward looked a bit disturbed at what Ernest did beforehand. “What? I was hungry and nature told me to eat the Face Fur, it was perfectly sound advice at the time.” Ernest said in self defense, treating the whole eating his maker’s flesh as a perfectly normal thing to do.

“Overriding the Face Fur, Ernest is coming home with us. He’s earned my respect.” Envy quickly jumped on the chance of having three favorite boogers in their life.

“Good, Ernest, it was nice knowing you, but we must simply part ways and have you go back to your blood donor and younger brother.” Edward quickly said as he handed Ernest over to a shocked Dolly who held her angry, red clay lion who was currently neutral about the whole thing.

“Fine kid, it was nice being around yah guys too. Just one thing to know, the Fuhrer, are you on his side by any chance?” Ernest asked as he looked over at Dolly for what deciding response she’ll give to him.

“No, not in this family, we hold a very long proud tradition of anarchy and regicide. We consider the Fuhrer to go against our very core values.” Dolly responded rather truthfully about her regicidal family traditions.

“Then I’m in good hands, take me way to that delightful household without the Face Fur to ruin shit.” Ernest felt much more at peace with being rehomed to Dolly’s care.

“You’re in luck that I bought us a Morgue to live in once this shit is over.” Envy stated, causing most of the participants to go silent.

“We’ll touch back on the Morgue home deal after you and Greed figure out how you’re exactly going to execute Dante.” Lust was not thrilled with the possibility of living in a morgue, her hopes of a nicer household being dashed against the rocks.

“I thought for sure you of all people here at the table would’ve been pleased with the new home. We get a steady source of food for Gluttony without having to do all that work, it’s a win-win situation.” Envy grinned like a fool, feeling like they’ve won the best home possible for everyone.

“As enchanting as this Morgue house talk is, like Lust over there, I too want to know what exactly we’re going to do about assassinating the old hag.” Greed decided to help out Lust by putting the pressure on the murder plans.

“Fine, you’re all just no fun to talk to at all! With Dante, it should be simple enough to get her guard down if I were to ask her to come out of the villa for a bit, possibly a breakfast bait of sorts. She’s old, breakfast plans are always an excellent way of coaxing someone like her out and into the open for an assassination.” Envy smiled faintly as the ‘brilliant’ plan they’ve proposed to terminate the dread beast Dante.

“I see so many things that could go wrong with this plan…” Lust was at a loss at the proposed plan, a pit forming in her stomach after listening to it.

“Don’t doubt my plans, I know Dante better and she’ll drop her guard around me, I’m the very first homunculus she ever recruited. She’d trust me the most rather than any one of you, it’s flawless as it comes.” Envy puckered their lips in a sneer over their brilliant plan being questioned so harshly.

“Fine, whatever, just Envy, what exactly do you have planned for us in order to make this work? You’re not going to pull this as a solo kill.” Greed narrowed his eyes a bit and had a feeling Envy was that full of themself to attempt something as stupid as mentioned.

“No, never, I wouldn’t even dream of it. I’d just have you, the freaks, and the Elrics box her in while I go in for the kill. That’s perfectly sound teamwork right there.” Envy unapologetically said without realizing the stares they were getting.

“Envy…where did you learn that from? That’s not how teamwork functions..” Alphonse said as they just wondered where the rest of Envy’s brain went off to.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to turn Dante into a grease stain? It’ll be quick and painless.” Ernest offered, causing most of the table to go silent, Greed having traumatic flashbacks to his first encounter.

“Fine, that can be plan C. Plan B will be Dolly smashing Dante with the lamppost.” Envy’s attempt to compromise floored everyone, Dolly looking at Envy wishing they’d let it go.

“...where the hell did that even come from?” Edward had to ask the dread question.

“Oh right, Dolly beat Envy up with a Lamppost once.” Lust decided to fill in the blanks, Edward getting a grin on his little gremlin face.

“Oh that is perfect, just perfect.” Edward was brewing horrible ideas now to throw and poke at with Envy in the future provided they don’t murder him first.

“Fine, lamppost, whatever, but I got the plasma beam, that should be quicker, cleaner, and nobody to be found.” Ernest huffed, displeased that their option will be saved for last now.

“As much as I hate the plasma beam, I have to admit that is the more practical one of the options given. I don't think there’s lampposts out by that location…right?” Greed pointed out, not thrilled he had to point out that the plasma beam is better.

“Fine! You’re all just not fun to understand my brilliant plan making! We’ll just tire the old hag out so she can’t dodge the plasma beam, happy?” Envy relented at their plan being ripped apart.

“Wait…wasn’t Pride hunting Ernest down? Wouldn’t that drag the murder happy monster to us?” Lust questioned as she realized the possibility of drawing the monster closer to everyone.

“Lust there is like god knows how many people are hunting him down at this point. We’re fine, completely fine right here.” Envy shrugged off the possibility of this plan having more holes in it than a strainer.

“Fair and I don’t even know if Wrath is still alive even at this point, no one has heard from him in ages.” Lust was growing even more worried upon realizing that Wrath was indeed AWOL.

“...Teacher is not going to be happy to hear about that..” Alphonse softly said upon hearing the possibility of Wrath being dead.

“Al, aren’t we supposed to be more concerned about the fact that we can’t even keep track of where the Fuhrer has been?” Edward said growing aware of how absurd this situation is becoming.

“Now let’s just focus on one thing at a time, we want a dead Dante first and then we can worry about the geezer with a toddler tantrum later.” Envy started to pile their plate up with a good amount of meat, upsetting most at the table.

“Envy, you're understating how severe the situation is right now..” Greed felt weird having to be the other adult at the table.

“Whatever, just let me eat, this city is fucked either way anyways, might as well enjoy a good meal.” Envy started to stuff their face after saying their peace of mind, having enough to say for now.

“What do you mean its fucked either way?” Greed was feeling like he was going to age somehow during this topic.

“Well…Envy ‘may have’ unleashed a pair of mercenaries that specialize in regicide and likely will get heavy fire power involved. Expect massive damages and the possibility of Central being uninhabitable for a foreseeable future.” Dolly answered in horror about what’ll possibly go down in the background.

“Doesn’t help that our former underground home is combustible and toxic right now.” Lust added, still mad about this situation.

#Fullmetal Alchemist #FMA 03 #FMA Fan Fiction #Fan Fiction #Writing #The Wayfarer #Envy the Jealous #Envy #Greed the avaricious #Greed #Edward Elric #Alphonse Elric #Elric brothers #Homunculus #Homunculi #OCs

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jonathanwrotethis · 4 months

Text

Computers and the Internet

Thankfully, several years ago I took part in NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month), and wrote a huge chunk of an autobiography - with several chapters covering the arrival of computers and the internet in my life.

Here's a taster:

486

One day, late in the autumn of 1989, my Dad floated the idea with me of selling the Atari ST, and buying a PC to replace it. We hadn't been using the Atari for it's original purpose - music production - for years, and it was obvious from the various magazines we occasionally bought where the future was headed. The Atari ST, and it's long-time rival, the Commodore Amiga, were fast becoming obsolete.

The weeks that followed saw us purchase magazine after magazine - learning an entirely new lexicon of words. EGA, VGA, Ethernet, PCMCIA, and so on. We learned the difference between the 386 and 486 processors, and what a 486DX had that a 486SX did not. We didn't know what difference it would make to us personally, but we could probably bore somebody really well if they asked us.

I even returned to my old lecturer at college, finding him in his office. I had never visited his office before, and caught him half-way through eating a cheese sandwich. He scooted his chair to one side, and invited me to sit down. I layed a copy of Personal Computer World on his desk, open at a vast list of specifications for computers available from one of the major manufacturers. Over the course of the next half an hour he explained what a maths co-processor actually does, what difference cache memory makes, and why having 4 megabytes of RAM was a pretty good idea - all the while shaking his head that computers were now being sold with that much memory on-board.

Before saying goodbye, he rose out of his chair, smiled, and said "follow me - I want to show you something".

We wandered back to the computer science classroom where I had spent so many hours over the last two years, but instead of heading to the classroom area, opened a door, and walked into the small server room next door. Among a mass of cables on one of the desks sat a new beige PC case, with a monitor, keyboard, and mouse attached. He wiggled the mouse, and the screen burst into life - showing a patterned background, and a prettier version of the interface we had known on the Atari ST.

It was Windows 3.0.

Sure, I had read about Microsoft Windows, and everybody knew it was coming - but actually seeing it running on a computer was a bit of a moment. After a few clicks of the mouse, "Word for Windows" opened, and he began typing letters in a smooth, serif font. I was blown away.

"That's not the best bit - watch this."

He leaned across the desk and retrieved a strange t-shaped device with light pouring from it's under-side, and a cable hanging from it's rear. After a quick look around the desk, he grabbed a coke can, and dragged the device around it's edge. The outside of the coke can slowly appeared on the screen - it was a hand-held scanner. Again, I had read about them, but never seen one - and again, I was blown away.

"Good luck with buying your PC", he said, as we parted ways. I must have had a smile like a coat-hanger.

The next weekend I went with my Dad to Evesham - to visit the very same computer store we had visited years before to buy the Atari ST. By now Evesham Micros had evolved into a well known maker of PCs with huge full colour adverts in all the well known computer magazines. They had also moved premises - to an industrial unit outside the town. I remember walking into their showroom, and seeing a number of huge computers, quietly humming at desks for people to look at.

When I say "huge", I really do mean "huge". The "tower" computer cases you tend to see tucked under desks in offices are only really "half-tower" cases - back in 1989 the first 486DX 50s were typically sold in full-tower cases - they would only just fit underneath a standard height desk. I imagine the room inside was designed to accommodate multiple hard drives, multiple floppy drives, and multiple optical drives - CDROMs had arrived too.

We waited in reception while the computer we ordered - that had been built for us - was brought through from the store room. It was one notch down from the fastest computer available at the time - a 486DX 33. The 33 reflected it's internal clock speed in megahertz - the rate at which it could get stuff done. To give some perspective, within five years the first Pentium chips had hit 1 Gigahertz - thirty times faster.

The computer we bought cost an eye watering PS3000. The same price as a low-end family car at the time. It was a non-descript beige box, with a couple of slots on the front, and came with a monitor, keyboard, and mouse. While looking around the showroom in the shop, I spent the little money I had on a copy of the video game "The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy", and a copy of "Flight Simulator 4" - the direct successor to the same game I had spent so many hours playing on the Atari ST.

When we got home, I had a considerable mountain to climb in terms of knowledge. Unlike todays PCs that come pre-installed and pre-configured, in the early days they did not. To run Windows 3.1, you needed to already be have DOS installed, and if you wanted to play games, a world of hurt lay ahead of you.

You might say I was the right kind of person, in the right place, at the right time. The software that came with the computer - MS-DOS 5, and Windows 3.1 - came with sizable books. The DOS book ran to hundreds of pages, and looked quite impressive on the shelf. I read both of them, and over the course of perhaps a week or two, learned all about hard drives, partitioning, memory management, drivers, interrupts, address space, and lots of other things. In order to play games, I learned about expanded memory, extended memory, high memory, and the various tricks required to use them efficiently. When you switch on a Windows PC or Mac these days, you have no idea how much has been done for you by the operating system - it wasn't always that way.

For several years I became a version of my old school friend. I was the guy that could turn up at somebody's house and solve their computer woes. I could get games to work. People would sit in awe as I wrote configuration files for their computers by hand. When they asked where on earth I had learned how to do it all, I always replied with the same answer - I read the books that came with the computer. They were actually REALLY good books.

Once upon a time, Microsoft Press were famous for the quality of their books. I remember seeing the set of printed books for the Windows Software Development Kit for sale at the Computer Shopper show that year - our second visit. The stack of books was two feet long, and could be bought in shrink-wrapped bulk. It was a bit like buying a set of encyclopedias.

Our computer came with a free copy of "Microsoft Bookshelf" - a compact disk that ran within Windows 3.1. It contained an encyclopedia, a dictionary, a thesaurus, and a book of quotes. It seemed magic - being able to search for pretty much any subject, and find articles to read, pictures to peruse, and sound clips to listen to at a moment's notice. Some entries - such as the Apollo project - let you listen to speeches, and watch video clips of the event. This was quite a time before the internet became widely used, remember. The World Wide Web was still an idea Tim Berners Lee was toying with, and connecting computers to the internet at all was still perhaps two or three years away.

Each component inside the computer had an impressive sounding name - a "Diamond Stealth" graphics card, a "Soundblaster" sound card, and "American Megatrends" BIOS. It's perhaps worth remembering that PCs started out very much as kits of components - not sealed units bought and sold as consumable items. A PC would be bought with the intention of upgrading it over time - replacing elements of it's innards to tailor it for specific tasks - or just to make it go faster.

Although I could never warrant the cost of office software for the PC in those early days, I didn't have to. One or other of the magazines available in the high street newsagents had CDs on the cover, which invariably had free copies of Microsoft Office competitors on the cover. For years I used "Lotus Smartsuite", purely because it was free. I also reasoned with myself that it was somehow better than Microsoft Office - and back then it probably was. As has always been the way, Microsoft slowly but surely improved their own software and swept all before them. When was the last time you saw a copy of Lotus Smartsuite, or Wordperfect Office in the wild?

The funny thing? Lotus Smartsuite really was better than Microsoft Office back in the early 1990s. And Borland Delphi was so much better than Microsoft Visual Basic that it wasn't funny. Neither Borland, or Lotus exist any more.

The 486 served the family (ok, me) for about five years. It was upgraded over time - doubling it's memory, and DOS 5 became DOS 6 - but really, it was kind of stunning that it did so well. Looking back, I suppose there was a subtle shift in the early 1990s - away from what your computer could do, towards what other computers could do.

The internet had arrived.

The Internet

When I say that the internet had "arrived", that's obviously not entirely true. The Internet had been in development since the 1960s - first through Arpanet (the Advanced Research Projects Network) used by the US military, and then through the work of Vint Cerf and Bob Kahn at BBN to improve it.

You see - the first version of what we now call "The Internet" was designed rather badly. Each computer had to be wired directly to each other computer on the network. Also, each computer ran different software, and interfaced with other computers in different ways - so to get two computers to talk to each other, you had to develop bespoke software to translate in either direction. Add to that the idiocy of adding more computers to the network, along with wires to all the other computers, and methods of communication between them all, and you can see the problem.

Vint Cerf and Bob Kahn invented "TCP/IP", and "Packet Switching". They are still used today, and describe a standard way through which any number of computers wired to the same network can communicate with each other - picking and choosing which information being sent across the network is for them, and sending that information as lots of tiny bits (packets), which can be re-compiled at the destination.

The beauty of packet switching came in the idea that computers in the middle of the spiders-web of interconnected machines could be knocked out, and the network would still work - finding new routes for packets around the problem areas. You can see straight away why this might have been developed - the threat of nuclear war - and you can also see that once you build the network, you can't really switch it off - because it will survive your attempts.

Except you could. And it happened. By accident.

In the early days of the internet, before the World Wide Web had really taken off, it became obvious that it should be easier to identify computers on the network than by their "address" on the network - a group of integers split by periods (you've probably seen these numbers - IP addresses - the internet still works the same way). The idea of "domain names" was thought up - names that represented the numbers - such as "harvard.edu", or "yahoo.com". The list of names correlating to addresses obviously needed to be copied to each server - so when a request was made of a given computer system by it's name, the system would know that a given name meant a given IP address. Rather than have a single computer giving out the addresses, it was thought best that each of the big computer systems on the network should have their own copy, and replicate changes from the master database. The fault in this system? The master database.

The computer at the centre of the domain name system died one day, and over the next few hours the internet stopped working for the millions of people using it around the world. Needless to say it was eventually fixed - but yeah - proves even the geniuses that built the internet were fallible.

Sorry for the history lesson.

So - the internet had been around for a while, in educational institutions, and government facilities, but had not really happened outside of that.

What had happened was a madcap priesthood of crazy people running their own systems via the telephone network. They were called Bulletin Boards - and you needed a modem to access them.

Guess who bought a modem.

I was at PC World with my Dad buying printer ink and paper. PC World had opened a few months earlier, and was something of a novelty - a one-stop-shop where you could buy anything from a box of paper, to a mouse, or even a desktop computer.

In the months previously I had been reading computer magazines, and had seen numerous adverts for an online service called "Compuserve" that promised to connect you with the world. The advert showed a distant house in the middle of nowhere, with one light on, and some blurb about never being alone, no matter how remote you might be. I was sold.

We bought a V32bis modem - the meaning of the code is now lost in the sands of time - I think it means the modem would communicate on the V-Modem protocol with other computers, at a rate of 32,000 bits a second. The various protocols bestowed different error correction, and compression powers on the modem - the likelihood that data would be transmitted correctly.

The modem sat between the computer, and the telephone line in your house, using a splitter cable. While you were connected to the internet, you were essentially making a call to the "Internet Service Provider", who would then connect you to the internet. These days the modem in your house essentially acts as both the modem, AND the gateway - back then, the ISP was the gateway. Well - except if you connected to a Bulletin Board system.

Bulletin Board systems were perhaps the earliest form of internet community for the masses - you could connect to a server, and browse conversations on any number of subjects, and pitch into them yourselves. While some bulletin boards were self contained, others acted as a bridge between you, and a far bigger community message board system called Usenet. We now know usenet as "newsgroups" - I'm not really sure why.

I fell in love with usenet immediately. I had read no end of conspiracy theory books during my teenage years, and knew that all the best information (or misinformation, it turns out) was being published to usenet - to groups such as alt.ufo. After watching endless episodes of The X-Files, and forming an unexplainable attraction to Gillian Anderson, I discovered hoards of people were using Usenet to share anything they thought they knew, and even found ways of transferring photos through plain text. It was called UUEncoding, and proved that porn will ALWAYS find a way.

The one problem with bulletin board systems is that you had to be connected to them in order to read, write, and reply to messages. Sure, there were fancy software applications called "Off Line Readers" that made that process more efficient, but it was still a largely disconnected, overtly technical, and user unfriendly world.

The general public would never have taken to the online world in the numbers they did without the help of two companies - Compuserve, and America Online. They each created their own bulletin board system, but polished it to within an inch of it's life, and dumbed everything down. The systems aped bulletin boards, and introduced private messaging (email with the wider internet was still not a thing - if you were connected to Compuserve, you could only message fellow users of Compuserve, for example).

I had accounts at both Compuserve, and America Online over the next year or so. As has often happened through history, the massively inferior product won out - America Online, or AOL as it came to be known flooded the world with CDs containing the software installer for their system. Every magazine had an AOL CD on the cover, and they were even sent through the post. Millions upon millions of them.

If you look around in gardens you still see AOL CDs from time to time - made into bird scarers, hanging from pieces of string.

I miss Compuserve. I still remember my ID number (you had an ID number - not a username) - mine was 100333,3457. I've often wondered if there was a structure to the user ID numbers - if the various parts of the number meant anything at all. Of all of the various interest groups and clubs available at Compuserve, the Writers Forum still stands out in my memory. I made my first real online friendships with strangers there, and took part in numerous writing exercises.

The Compuserve advert was actually true - no matter who you were, or where you were, you could connect and find your tribe.

I can remember the day a new icon appeared in both the Compuserve, and AOL interfaces. It looked like a picture of a globe, and launched a second piece of software called "NCSA Mosaic". Mosaic opened to a blank screen, with a text box above, that you could enter an "addresses" into.

It was 1993, and it was the World Wide Web.

A guy called Tim Berners Lee at the CERN project in Switzerland had become frustrated that even though the various computer systems were connected to each other through the "internet", there was still no easy way of publishing notes and research for others to see - so he set about inventing it.

It's easy to say now that the world wide web changed everything - but when it first appeared it was slow, buggy, and the software tended to crash a lot. Magazines wrote at length about it's importance, and it's growing popularity - emphasising its open, decentralised nature. Where Compuserve forums could only be visited by Compuserve members, and AOL forums could only be visited by AOL members, the World Wide Web could be used by everybody.

It came as no surprise, decades later, when Tim Berners Lee appeared at the opening of the London Olympic Games, that he sat in the middle of the Olympic stadium and keyed into a NeXT workstation "This is for everybody".

#Life

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gaybaby2424 · 11 days

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PART 2 (2 young teens make me there baby slave)

As soon as we got inside they took me out and handed me to the lady and then asked the 2 teen boys how dirty I was and they lied and said that I love licking ass and eating shit and they said that I want strangers to pee and poop in his diapers in public and said that I am a very dirty diaper piggy and she looked at me and said you are a dirty piggy aren’t you and then asked if I like the milk she gave the boys and I just nodded and then she sat on the couch and told the boys to sit down get comfortable while the lady started breastfeeding me and moaning as I kept suckling on both boobs soon I finally finished and the said ok boys would you like to take the baby down to the basement and make him into a dirty baby piggy boy. The boys said yes please and then grabbed me and headed to the lady’s basement when we got down there I was layed down on a thin bed in the middle of the room then went back upstairs and came back down and started setting a video camera up and pointing it on me and they started to get undressed then turned it on and stood over me and started asking if I was ready to embrace my new life as a nasty pathetic dirty diaper slave and then started to untape my diapers the the first 15 year old started squatting over my diaper and said that he’s been holding this poop in for 5 days and started laughing and as I stared at his hole it only took him a few seconds to start pushing and grunting. As I was trying not to look I couldn’t help but keep staring as I see the young boy start to poop a lot and I start to feel his warm poop land on my micro penis and after what I thought was 10 minutes he finally stopped pooping and then started staring at me and grinning and then the boy quickly took my paci out and said eat up baby fag and sat on my face and telling me to start licking his hole clean when he got off my face he looked at the other 15 year old boy and said your turn with the nasty baby slave then the second boy squatted over a little baby bowl and pooped a little bit in it and then moved to me and started shitting even more in my diapers and then i had to clean his hole too then they taped my diaper up making my diapers way bigger and then they went into another room came back out with a big box and then one boy picked me up and the other boy got the box and went up and told the lady they’ll be back and then put me into the stroller and we left and then we ended up at a huge house and I saw multiple young boys out front when we got to the other boys they started opening the box and each boy started pulling different sized poopy diapers out from infant to adult. One of the boys picked me up and held me in a standing position and the other boys started opening the messy diapers and pulling my diaper down a tiny bit and poured all the cold smelly poop in my diapers then 1 boy decided to smear one on my face and told me to lick that shit like a good piggy and I did and they kept on pouring the rest of the poop into my diapers finally there were no more and my face was all poopy and my diapers swelled even more and then a boy put tight pink plastic pants on me then got my paci and put chunks of poop on it and strapped it into my mouth. They finished laughing and calling me names and then took me into the house and that’s when I saw him it was my father in a bouncer sitting in a loaded smelly diaper staring at me looking scared and the boys said well we found your father and look you both can be our pathetic dirty baby slaves forever and a few minutes later the boys take me and my father outside and put us in a double stroller and started walking into town with poop still on my face and both our diapers swollen with poop. All 12 boys are next to us and started heading towards a boarding school for boys we enter the doors and we are pushed into a giant room with almost 250 young boys. As me and my father are pushed to the front of every single boy started laughing at us after awhile they stopped and 1 boy told every boy to get naked and make a line he said each of you can do anything to these two dirty baby slaves

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purplesurveys · 2 years

Text

1547

What weird food combinations do you enjoy? It’s not weird in my culture but I might get stares for it somewhere else – instant noodles and bread. We usually eat the combination either as a sandwich, or just separately where you take a bite of the bread after a forkful of the noodles.

Where do you get your news? It’s largely online now. Sometimes I’ll catch a glimpse of the news on TV, but that’s only whenever my family and I sit down for dinner.

What social stigma does society need to get over? Within my own society/culture at least, abortion and pre-marital sex. What is the best/worst prank that you've played on someone? Just easy ones like hiding someone’s phone. I’m not a big prankster.

What was the last photo you took? A ‘depression fort’ is what I wanna call it haha, that I made yesterday. I’m feeling unwell this weekend so a significant chunk of yesterday was spent covered in a huge blanket and watching hours of Run BTS on end. Does BTS even know how many lives they’ve saved from a single web series? I really hope they do.

What are you currently worried about? Just...the week ahead. Heavy workload as always and I technically should be working on them this weekend to save myself the backlog but my god have I been nonstop for the last few days. I’m thinking of giving myself just these two days so I can have some semblance of work-life balance, lol.

Do you think aliens exist? Sure do. Have you seen that recent photo of how big this universe is?

What mythical creature do you wish actually existed? I don’t care for those.

What are you interested in that most people aren't? Taking these surveys, probably. < Haha this is good. The royal family, too. I know most people tune into them and know who they are, but I doubt many others have read up on them and their history at least as much as I have. It’s a weird little interest that always sends me into conflict about my feelings about them, lol.

What's the most ridiculous thing you have bought? It was this stupid soap bar that was pink and had “Gay Bar” carved on it. It was meant to be a silly novelty gift for my ex way way back but for some reason I never got to hand it over, so it stayed with me for years. It was stupidly, stupidly expensive and I still don’t know what was running through my head when I decided to buy it and thought it would make a funny gift lol.

What sounds hit you with major nostalgia every time you hear them? 1 Thing by Amerie. And any hit from the 2000s to early 2010s, really.

If given the oppurtunity to open a museum, what kind would you create? It’d be an art gallery and I’d love to curate works created by Armys because there are loads of talented fans out there. I don’t plan on making the exhibits BTS-themed since I feel that would get boring so fast, but it’ll be a collection of works from local artists who just so happen to be fellow fans.

When was the last time you immediately regretted what you said? I’m not sure, actually. It’s been a while since I just blurted something out without thinking haha, I tend to be more cautious these days.

What's the silliest thing you've seen someone get upset about? My mom turns into a complete Karen every time we drive into a village we don’t have a car sticker (i.e. proof of home ownership) to and is asked to turn in an ID, and it drives me nuts. I tell her every time that “this has literally ALWAYS been the rule” – and it really has been, you’ve always needed to surrender a fucking ID until the pandemic – but why it makes her go off the rails I’ll never understand. I feel the worst about the fact that she takes it out on the security guards who are just following the rules. What was the best thing that happened to you today? It’s the weekend.

Do you consider yourself a good cook? Nah.

What's the dumbest thing someone has argued with you about? I had an aunt who once couldn’t stop harassing me about the fact that she thinks my favorite singers/groups lipsync. She’s the type of person who believes she’s right 100% of the time and will always shove her truth down your throat to satisfy herself, so I remember being super annoyed at that useless conversation. And I was like 13 at the time, so I didn’t and still don’t understand why she wanted to push my buttons that day.

What did you google last? Sogalbisal.

What fashion trend makes you cringe or laugh everytime you see it? When designer brands make distressed versions of normal clothes. Like ripped jeans, ripped t-shirts are fine, they’re whatever – by distressed versions I mean like making versions of clothes that look like they’ve been worn a thousand times and dragged through grass and mud. There was one that went viral not too long ago, I just can’t for the life of me remember the brand name right now.

What's your favorite holiday movie? Love Actually is a Christmas tradition for me and my cousins.

How ambitious are you? I have a good amount of it in me, which I feel shoud be necessary especially now that I’m still in my early (soon mid) 20s...I feel like my job is currently imprisoning me quite a bit, but I also know that as soon as I figure out the timing and get the hell out of it my ~ambition is gonna go balls to the wall crazy hahaha.

What topic could you spend forever talking about? Childhood memories.

Which way should toilet paper hang, over or under? Over.

What word is a lot of fun to say? Schtick.

If you didn't have to sleep, what would you do with the extra time? Binge-watch a buuuuuuuunch of stuff.

Are you usually early or late? I used to be passionately early all the time for everything. That changed after the pandemic I think, because now I’m usually anywhere between 5-30 minutes late to stuff.

What do you wish you knew more about? Anything to do with art and creating things, really. Painting, shading, using Photoshop, editing videos...it’s a pity because my imagination has the tendency to go wild and I always can’t bring those visions to life.

What is the most annoying question you've been asked? When I’m planning to be in a relationship and/or have kids. I always just tell those people “we’ll see” because it’s much safer and family-friendly than “I don’t date anymore because a past relationship nearly killed me.”

How different was your life 1 year ago? I still liked my job and went into every day enjoying my workload with my teammates, but other than that not much has changed. I’m still happy (at least in all other aspects of my life that’s not work) and I’m still obsessed with BTS lol; I’m just burned out now and can’t say I ever got close to my associate.

What quirks do you have? I always get called out for not liking fruits.

What movie title best describes your life? Maybe Into the Wild, just because I’m thrust to new different experiences everyday and my life is generally fast-paced. What was the last lie you told? My dad asked how I was doing, to which I replied I’m doing great. The only other option was break down in tears and I wasn’t doing that, hahaha.

What type of music do you listen to? To say my music catalog is overwhelmingly K-pop is an understatement. Sometimes I’ll go back to my roots and listen to punk rock, synth pop, folk, indie, etc...but it doesn’t take long before I go back to K-pop.

Are you a good listener? Sure.

What is your favorite milkshake flavor? Cookies and cream or anything that incorporates my favorite chocolate snacks like Maltesers or Kit-Kat.

Do you think you're brave? Not entirely. There are things I’m brave about and some things that I’m not.

What are you most grateful for in your life? My friends have done a spectacular job helping me keep sane and avoid another panic attack/nervous breakdown, which I haven’t had in years.

What is a relationship deal breaker for you? My last relationship made me realize I’m way too forgiving because I had always let go of stuff that should’ve been dealbreakers. But now that I know better, gaslighting would be a big ol’ red flag.

What are some things that give you complete peace of mind? Anything that is not work, honestly. My bar for peace and happiness has been set too low at this point LOL that anything I do or go to or experience that isn’t remotely related to my job already helps me tons.

Would you like to explore another planet? I mean yeah but only if I magically got to be part of like a NASA project or something. I wouldn’t want to hop on something that is entirely for commercial purposes. Who was your favorite cartoon character as a child? Spongebob.

What would you do if you were the president of your own country? Give the Marcoses hell.

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joanarcherknight · 2 years

Text

World Building

Another story that I wrote in response to a @writing-prompt-s prompt. I reblog a lot of stuff, and I went pretty far back trying to find the original post I made. So I’m just posting it again here! Thanks!

You glance at the people sitting beside you at the tables. There are plenty of old silver bearded men. A sprinkling of women, some with motherly looks, others with… sharper smiles. You wonder if you’re in the right place.

"Did everyone bring their materials?" A voice calls over something that is not the speakers.

There is a little chorus of yes. You glance to the woman sitting beside you. She has a box filled with… clay. You glance down at your pen and notebook. The notebook you bought specifically for this conference.

"Um… excuse me?" You murmur.

Her head turns slowly. Her skin is pale as snow, eyes like blue crystals. So hard and unnatural in a living face. You shrink back.

"Oh, don’t mind her." A voice from your other side cuts in. "Leave them alone."

A dark hand waves in front of you, waving off the hard blue stare. You turn to your saviour. She has hair braided tightly and piled high on her head. Her skin is dark and smooth, wrists and neck jingling with gold bangles and necklaces.

"First time?" She asks.

You nod quickly. "Why does she have clay?"

The woman gives a short barking laugh, you feel your own lips curve into a smile. This woman makes you feel safe. You unconsciously shuffle a little closer.

"The clay helps us to visualise what we want to create." She said, pulling a lump from a box you just noticed. "Watch."

Her hands moved quickly, but with great care. She gave an odd twist of her wrist and then, stretching out her hand, you see a tiny clay figure of a dolphin. She places it down on your notebook.

"I… uh… usually work with words." You say, feeling silly to be sitting here now.

The friendly woman tries and fails to look encouraging. "There is no wrong way to build a world."

"Oh, thank you." You say, leaning down to study the figurine closer.

A microphone screeches through the speakers and the old man holding it gave a little cough of embarrassment. Everyone has turned their attention to him now, and you do the same, ready for the class to begin. You're ready to learn.

"This year we have many new faces here. I'm pleased to see you all." The man wheezed. "All of you have joined, looking for a way to kick start your own domain and push life into the people there. It's not easy."

You glanced back at the woman who was kind to you. "My own domain?" You whisper.

But she isn't paying attention, her eyes are focused. You turn back to the front, realising that you hadn't been listening to the man's words.

"Please, begin your crafting. I will be walking around the room, to give advice and support. Don't be afraid to ask for help." The man started to hand the microphone off to someone else then stopped. "I have a few helpers this year. They are wearing yellow badges. Let's begin."

The people around you turn, almost as one, and begin removing huge chunks of clay from boxes under seats or at their elbows. You, glancing at the people around you, shift the sculpture off your notebook and start to write. The scratch of the pen on paper is calming.

You're not really sure what you should be doing. But you want to have something ready for when the speaker gets to your table. He's only a couple of rows away, currently murmuring in the ear of a little girl. You force your attention back to your notebook.

"You make no figures?" The dark-skinned woman breathed.

"No. I work with words." You murmur back.

She falls silent again, and you keep working. The writing is just flowing from you. It's a story, without being one. A recounting, a tale of old, for the world you are attempting to build. A tale of a city, risen and fallen a dozen times over the centuries. It's not a place you had thought of before.

You are just beginning to hash out the royal family when you feel a presence at your back. You turn slowly and see the smiling speaker leaning over you. You give a slight smile back.

"You are not creating?" He asks.

"I work with words." You say quickly, not sure why all the people here have such a hard time understanding that.

He gently takes your notebook from the table and flicks through your writing. You're surprised to see how much you've written in such a short time. The speaker has a frown on his face. He looks down at you intensely.

"I've been looking for a writing conference to join for a while." You feel compelled to defend your presence here. "I didn't realise this was sculpting. It said world building. I thought it was a writing... thing..."

The speaker passes a hand over his mouth, tugging lightly at his beard. "Would you mind if I read this to the audience?"

Your friend beside you gave a sharp gasp. You wanted to turn and look at her, but you didn't want to offend the speaker. You give a slight nod and the speaker heads back to the front of the room.

Nerves run through you as you watch the speaker take up the microphone. Your fingers tap on the table. There is no rhythm and it earns you a frown from the man sitting opposite you. You put your hands in your lap.

“We have a new member.” The speaker wheezes into the mic. “A wordsmith!”

There is a murmur around the room.

His hand waves them quiet again. “They have started building a city.” He cleared his throat. “‘In the fifth year of Monarch Radec’s reign, he had cause to raise a great cathedral in his city. The cathedral became a central place of worship to the Goddess Terra.’ I am surprised that someone has the bravery to begin building their world with people already inhabiting it.”

He looks at you with an encouraging smile. You shift in your seat, glancing at your friend. She is staring at you in amazement.

“You built a world where there are people? Everyone knows you start with the plants, then the animals. It’s never safe to start with a civilisation.”

“I… don’t understand…” You whisper. “I’m just writing.”

“You’re just-” She breaks off as the speaker approaches the table again.

He hands back your notebook. “I hope to see you here more often, Terra.” He smiles. “That is your name, isn’t it?”

You shake your head. “No. My name’s not Terra. That’s… the goddess I created for my writing.”

The speaker’s eyes nearly bug from his skull. “You c-created a goddess!?”

His voice soars over the chattering crowd and silences the entire conference. Your face feels hot as you blush deeply. You hold your notebook tightly, eyes on your lap so you don’t make accidental eye contact.

“You’re not a deity, are you?” The speaker asks softly.

You shake your head, not really understanding the question. Panic spreads through the conference and everyone begins talking over each other. You stay seated, listening to everything that is being said.

As the words wash over you, you realise that you’ve found yourself in a place you definitely don’t belong. You sink down in your chair as thunder rolls through the sky above the hall, and the walls shake from sudden heavy wind.

It was a mistake to sign-up for this. A heavy hand falls on your shoulder. You peer up at a creature that is more muscle than body. It’s mouth splits and gives you a broad grin.

“The puny mortal stays.” It announced in a gravelly voice. “Show us your wordsmithing.”

Hands push you to turn back to the table and dark fingers open your notebook for you and press your pen into your fingers. There are so many words of encouragement that you can’t hear yourself think, let alone write anything.

It doesn’t seem like they’ll let you leave until you write them something. With a sigh, you lean forward over your paper, trying to remember where your thoughts were leading you before you were interrupted.

#joanarcherknight #short story #writing #writing prompt #repost

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subpar-ghoulfriend · 3 years

Text

A Family Affair

Slasher AU CannibalFamily!EraserMicxReader

We’re going with the “strange family that lives outside of a small town” trope. After a few deliveries to the Aizawa household you get pulled in to an affair you never wanted to be a part of.

Spooky season is upon us and I’ve already begun watching too many horror movies. This fic will definitely be a two parter

Super Dark Content Warning!!! Literally do not read if you have any reservation and definitely no minors!

TW: cannibal themes, mentions of murder, mentions of corpse mutilation, kidnapping, unhealthy relationships

Part 2 is gonna include more of this and the smut

Growing up you were grateful for living in a small town. You didn't really relate to the coming-of-age stories told in the movies where the small town girl runs off to the big city for a whirlwind romance and a chance at some "big break." To you, small town life was more picturesque than any overcrowded city. You knew your neighbors, and watched a lot of their families grow and change throughout the years. A small town allows you to become a regular at several businesses, including the coffee shop and your favorite diner downtown. Going away to college was tough even though you didn't go far. The nearest city - a little over 40 miles away - had a great college with a program you were really interested in pursuing.

You went home every break and picked up delivery jobs at one of the local restaurants. It was winter break of your last year in college when you first delivered to the Aizawa residence. In all your years at the restaurant they never ordered delivery, one of the two men would always place an order for pick up. The thing about small town stereotypes is that small towns tend to self-impose said stereotypes. The Aizawa's were that family. The one that everyone whispered when they came to town and children would tell horror stories about during Halloween. They were the weird family that lived just past the outskirts of town.

You weren't entirely sure what either of the two men did. Everyone speculated that Mr. Aizawa was some sort of mountain-man-feral type and maybe did some mechanic work for the folks that tend to live in between towns. His husband, Mr. Yamada seemed like the stay at home trophy husband but you heard he did some sort of conspiracy podcast. They had children - reportedly, but no one has really met them - and other family members that live similarly further out into the middle of nowhere. The drive was absurdly long but they were loyal customers and the owners didn't want to turn their request down. Your boss handed you a chunk of bills to fill up your tank before heading out. That's no place you'd want to get stranded, he told you.

The paved road got worse the further you got from town. Forty-five minutes later you were pulling down the dirt road that led to the illuminated Aizawa home. A wall of cold air slammed in to you when you opened your car door and you grumbled about leaving your gloves at home. There was no doorbell, so knocked and did that awkward please-don't-let-me-freeze dance while you waited. Two unfamiliar faces opened the door, an apathetic looking teen and an adorable little girl. Must be their children. The older one called out for his dad before taking one of the bags you held and disappearing into the home. You looked down awkwardly and wave at the girl. She smiled shyly and reached out for the other bag.

"Are you sure?" You asked her, "It's a little heavy."

She nodded.

"Okay, but use two hands," You passed her the bag. "Oh jeez, you're strong. Don't tell your brother, but I think this is the heavier bag."

You smiled when she giggled and ran off.

Mr. Aizawa appeared in the door, "How much do we owe?"

He was just as terrifying up close and for a split second your mind went blank while your basic instincts were begging you go back to the car. He raised an eyebrow at you, looking irritated at your falter.

"Uh - forty-two."

He pulled counted out a chunk of bills and then you were off. You didn't even count the amount until you parked. Forty-two with a forty-dollar tip. They may be odd but apparently they're loaded. You didn't think much of it until the following week when you were heading back to their house with another delivery. You wished that they would order earlier but at least you could hope for another generous tip. You were taken aback when the little girl answered the door by herself, jumping up and down with excitement.

Was she old enough to answer the door by herself?

"Papa," She yelled. "The lady is here!"

She turned her attention back to you with a huge grin, "Shinsou got sore that you told me I'm the stronger one."

Before you could respond to her the other man, Mr. Yamada, bounced around the corner, "Eri, what have we told you about the door? Oh no, you must be freezing come stand inside while I go get your payment. Forty-two right?"

You wanted to protest, feeling uneasy in their entryway but the little girl tugged you by the delivery bags. So you stood there quietly while she ran back in forth so she could unload the delivery for you. Shinsou peered around the corner so you gave a small wave. Then it was just you and Eri once again. In the background you could hear Yamada asking his husband where the wallet went.

"I like your shirt," You smiled, trying to fill the silence.

"I wanted a Pegasus shirt but this was the only one my daddy could find."

"Well I think unicorns are pretty cool too."

You use to babysit for some of the families in town, no part of you could imagine doing that all the way out here.

The blonde rejoined you, giving you another lush payment. You heard the little girl whine about you leaving so quickly until her father appeased her by saying you'd be back.

Something about that rubbed you the wrong way; but you were back like clockwork the next week with their usual delivery. Once again you were brought inside while they went to get your payment. But on your fourth and what should have been your final delivery of the winter break you noticed something was off when you parked. Their truck was missing from its usual spot. Strange but they probably just moved it somewhere else on the property. You had become accustom Eri running to answer the door and telling you wait for her parents in the entrance of the house. You became suspicious after she had run back and forth to take the food to the kitchen.

"Eri, where are your parents? Or Shinsou?"

The little girl's response was nonchalant, "They had to go out, one of our cattle got out. But they gave me the money."

You stuffed the money into your jacket; payment was the issue here. In the back of your mind you though about how you never saw any cattle on your deliveries. A child her age shouldn’t be left alone.

"Oh, well, can I hang out with you while we wait for them to come back?"

The little girl lit up as she pulled you to the living room. There was a kid's movie playing on the TV and she had a coloring book out. Eri divide up her crayons and tore out a page for you to join her. You kept looking to the window, waiting for the truck to pull up.

Suddenly there was banging at the door, which elicited a cry from Eri. You reached into your pocket only finding the crumpled bills. Shit, your stomach dropped. You left your phone in your car. After all, this was just supposed to be a quick delivery. The noise stopped, only for a moment, before resuming.

"Eri, sweetie," You whispered to the stunned little girl. "Do your parents have a phone here?"

She shook her head.

A man’s voice tore through the door, "Let me in dammit, you have to let me in before they come back."

You held your finger to your lip, and Eri nodded, repeating the gesture. The living room light was on and you realized that if he came to the side of the house you'd be seen through the window, but turning out the light would draw attention. Maybe he was bluffing, maybe he didn't know if anyone was inside and turning off the light would signal your presence. You pointed to the kitchen, where the lights were off and the two of you tip toed to the safety of darkness.

"Eri, honey, can you go sit in the pantry for me and be really, really quiet? I'll be right out here and don't come out until I come to get you okay?"

She looked hesitant and tearful but you were surprised at her level of composure for a kid. Finally she complied. Once the pantry door was closed you began rummaging through the drawers, looking for something that could inflict the most damage. A meat tenderizer could work. The banging continued and you swore you hear wood beginning to splinter. Your grip tightened with every bang. Finally the door gave way and a man stumbled through the splintered wood. He stopped when he saw you holding the cleaver.

He was dirty, without shoes or a shirt and his skin was red from the cold.

You hoped your voice wouldn’t crack, "You need to leave-"

"Monsters, monsters," he blabbed. "They're gonna come back and we gotta go."

You decided to bluff, "Get out of here, I already called the cops."

"Good, good, good," He mumbled, “but we still gotta go. NOW."

There was one step forward from him, one step back from you.

"If you come near me, I'll make sure you don't get up," You warned. At the very least you had to keep him away from Eri. Even if that was all you could do.

There was a desperate look in his eyes; they darted from you to the keys hooked to your jeans, then back to the keys. Finally he smiled, "You have a car, man that's perfect. Listen I won't hurt you but we need to get in your damn car, now."

Sounds like something someone who wants to hurt me would say, you thought. Apparently you took too long to respond, the man lunged toward you and you tried to swing the meat tenderizer. The tool connected with his shoulder and he howled out in pain but still managed to wrestle you to the ground. The two of you struggled with each other and the man was yelling that you'd die if you didn't listen to him. You landed a weak hit to his jaw, splitting his lip. You even tried biting at him but he was persistent and struggling to get your keys. You were telling him he could have them that he just needed to let you go but he wasn't listening to you. Managing to grab his ear you had a flashback to the self-defense seminar you had to take in college, it should be easy to rip a human ear. So you pulled. Blood began to flow from the wound down his face and on to you. He got you off him before you got the whole ear by delivering a blow to your stomach. The air rushed from your body, is this what it means to get the wind knocked out of you?

There was a loud noise and fog lights flooded through the broken door. Then saw Shinsou and Aizawa pulling the man off you. You pushed yourself and back, clutching at your stomach. Your cheeks were wet. Were you crying or was that blood on your face? Probably both.

The trio wrangled the man outside where you heard more struggling, fighting, and groaning.

Eri. You managed your way to the kitchen but realized you were covered in blood. Not wanting to traumatize the little girl any further you spoke through the door.

"Eri, can you stay there a little bit longer?"

"Can't I come out? I heard my daddies," She cried, tugging at your heartstrings.

"Not yet, okay? They're here and everything's okay, I'm gonna have them come get you okay?"

Thankfully, the door didn't open. As you shuffled toward the front door Mr. Yamada entered, wiping specks of blood off him.

You were shocked when he pulled you into a hug, "You're okay. Sho and Shinsou got everything under control. Where is Eri?"

You told him about her hiding spot and he sighed in relief and rushed to her.

The other two returned with bloodied knuckles that made your stomach churn.

"Yamada," The mountain man called, with his eyes scanning the home.

"Don't worry, Sho, I got Eri. She's fine. Our delivery girl is okay, she's got some bumps and bruises but she made the other guy look worse."

Aizawa ushered you to the couch, expecting your legs to give out at any moment.

"We need to call the police," You finally spoke.

Aizawa assured you he did. They were 45 minutes out but they'd work on getting here faster. Yamada brewed you a cup of tea, “for while we wait.” They finally calmed Eri down and Shinsou took her upstairs to get ready for bed. It felt weird for them to return to mundane evening routines so quickly after all that chaos, but maybe you were just the odd one out. Close to an hour later you were still waiting for the police to show up. Your tea was finished long ago and your nerves had calmed. You were even having trouble keeping your eyes open.

"You think they're almost here, babe" The blonde wondered, draping a throw blanket around your shoulders. "I'm sure she wants to this day to be over with."

---

It was still dark when you woke up. The blonde was fast asleep on the recliner next to you. The police must have come by now but there was no way you slept through the visit. Anxiety from earlier made it’s way back in to your chest. The clock read 4am; had they even called the police. All of the childhood rumors you heard came flooding back and you exited the house as quietly as you could, not realizing your keys were no longer with you.

When you made it outside you noticed dried blood on the ground, trailing toward what you assumed was their barn or storage shed. You were entranced. Looking back to the house, no one was awake; there was no movement, no light, just quiet. You shouldn’t follow the bloody trail, you shouldn't go near the shed; but your body moved on it's own accord and before you realized it you were at the doors. You gave a tug, expecting it to be locked, but the door swung open and inside you noticed the lock lay on the ground.

You should have turned around, got in your car, and drove away. Instead you stepped inside and found the bloody, broken body of the man who attacked you. There was a slight sway to the corpse that was hanging from a reinforced pillar. Nearly screaming your hand shot to cover your mouth.

You should've left.

Aizawa was watching you from the kitchen, cursing Hizashi for leaving the shed unlocked. His hand hovered over the secured cabinet drawer that stored a pistol. He wouldn't shoot you only scare you a bit. But you weren't running out in a panic. He didn't even hear you scream. Interesting. He went to join you, moving like any predator concealing it presence and leaving the gun safe untouched.

You should've left.

You finally came to your sense and whirled around only to run into your late night admirer. A terrified squeak escaped you as you jumped further into the confined space.

"Mr Aizawa! I'm sorry, I shouldn't have - I'm sorry."

He didn't look angry, although you wished he did. It would be better than the unsettling smile on his face.

"That's alright, I was heading out here anyway," He closed the door behind him and flicked on a dim light that lit up the room with shadows. "Can't leave it hanging for too long."

Your throat tightened, he stood between you and the only exit. If he noticed your terror there was no indication that he cared. He turned his back to you momentarily, rummaging through the clutter on the workbench. Now was the best chance you may get and you made a dash for the door. It was a futile attempt and part of you knew it but your nerves were ablaze with adrenaline and you were running on instinct not reason. There was a foreign tightness around your throat that kept you fighting to inhale. Struggling to breathe you didn’t even register the sharp pinch of a needle piercing your deltoid.

Aizawa pressed his nose to your hair, "Behave. Even if you get out of here, your tire has a flat, pesky nails tend to find their way on to the roads out here. A real shame."

He dragged you over to a chair across from the lifeless body cuffing both your wrists to the armrests. Stupid, stupid, he was grabbing out cuffs and I ran straight into him, you scolded yourself. You went to open your mouth and beg to be let go, but you were silenced.

"Keep it down or I'll have to find a way to keep you quiet."

Your heart was beating so hard it hurt. Once a friend said it was possible to die by fright, if that was true you wouldn't last much longer. Now that you were safely out of the way, Aizawa could make quick work dismembering the carcass. He donned his usual rubber apron and pulled back his hair. With his experience he could finish the job in less than two hours. Now was as good a time as ever for you to learn.

With a sigh he began his explanation and craft:

"Cannibalism has been around as long as we've existed: sacrificially, ceremonially, culturally, especially during times of plague, war, and famine. You can find documented accounts from pretty much every part of the world. And there's no one reason. Our family keeps it simple. We eat meat, animals are meat, and humans are animals. In times of famine and other hardships, this was a reliable food source. Of course now, there's not much of a risk for severe famine to effect people like us but it's tradition. This is how it's been for our family for years. And not just those of us around these parts but our relatives everywhere. It's important to keep old trades alive."

He paused, now splattered with blood, to take note of your dry heaving.

"Please," You gasped. "I just want to go -"

With narrowed eyes he continued:

"It's important for you to listen to our family history. Typically we don't reap a harvest until three weeks after the winter solstice and 3 weeks before the summer solstice. Twice a year is enough to get us by. Zashi and I are impressed that you managed to wrangle him in. Poetic in a way, don’t ’cha think? Consuming the flesh of someone who tried to overpower you. First reap of the harvest. Nice that it's a family affair."

The room was spinning and you were fighting the sedative as hard as you could. There was no way any of this was real, maybe you were dreaming? Maybe you'd been knocked unconscious when that man rushed you. Or better yet, maybe you were asleep at home still. It was possible that this whole delivery fiasco was just a nightmare. Your stomach churned at the speech. There was sun peaking through the cracks in the wall by the time he finished separating the ... different sections. There was no more body, just pieces. You nodded off for a few minutes before being jolted awake by the door opening and letting in the bright morning light .

"Good morning, you two night owls," Hizashi beamed. Walking to his husband handing over a tall mug of coffee. He was completely unfazed by the scene he walked in on. In fact the only frown he made was when Aizawa said he put too much sweetener in the coffee. "Anyways, grumpy pants, I called your sister. She's on her way to pick up Eri and Shinsou for a few days. To give us some time to focus on our little muse. Speaking of, I should go get her some water. Oh, plus we need to fix our door."

---

After you refused to drink anything they tried to give you they left you alone in the shed. The handcuffs were too tight for you to slip through and in your struggle you managed to topple the chair over, hitting the floor with painful slap. It was hard to ignore the buzzing of the flies swarming the space where the body once hung. You closed your eyes, your mind wandering to your family and what they would think when they realized you were missing.

Outside you heard a car pull up and were tempted to scream for someone to help you. Maybe it was the police; maybe someone realized you didn't go home last night and found out where your last delivery was. Your captors came out to greet whoever it was and you were glad you didn't yell, they sounded friendly. They were coming toward the shed but you were too defeated to react.

"Sho," Hizashi gasped, "She fell."

The response was sharp and sarcastic, "I hadn't noticed." He yanked you up with ease and the world was no longer side ways but the jolt paired with the exhaustion and drugs left the world spinning.

The woman must've been the sister they mentioned earlier. She squealed with delight, "Oh isn't she the cutest, lemme get a good look."

She resembled neither of the men and gave off cool-soccer-mom vibes. With a gentle grip on your chin she bore into your eyes.

"Please,” You begged, “I just want go home."

The sister didn't waiver, "Don't worry sweet thing, these two are gonna take such good care of you. Just relax and let them help you."

Help? You don't need help from them. You needed to get out of this hell.

"Okay," She bounced toward the exit, "Bring out my niece and nephew, we're gonna have a fun weekend. And take care of your girl, she looks like a keeper."

Finally you screamed in frustration. Brief, loud, and full of anger but it deflated just as quickly when the two men shot you a menacing look. How could all three of them show no display of empathy? You were again convinced this was an alternate reality when both children peaked their heads in to wave goodbye before they peeled away from the home, leaving you alone with Hizashi and Aizawa.

---

There was a hatch toward the back of the room where the two disappeared until they came back with a third body. They were dragging a woman up like a ragdoll and acidic bile burned your throat. If you had to guess you would say she was late middle age. It felt like they were setting a stage, Hizashi pulled you closer to where they stood while Aizawa managed to tie the woman down to the stained table.

"Why are you doing this," you cried. But they ignored you.

"Did you know there are people who pay for certain oddities and they’re willing to spend big bucks to get what they want? We keep whatever makes sense to eat and sell the rest. Ideally nothing goes to waste.”

The next hour and forty-seven minutes were excruciating. There were several “items” – as they referred to her body parts – that they removed while she was still alive; but finally Aizawa made the perfect incision along her thigh and a pomegranate wave gushed out. There was no way she would suffer much longer with this amount of blood loss.

"Please just let her die," You begged the universe. "Please let it end."

For the first time since starting they stepped back from the body, leaving it on the table to come over to you. Aizawa knelt before you and his bloody hand brushed hair from your face; his thumb rested on your lip and you couldn't even physically respond. Hizashi was behind him, rubbing his partner's shoulders.

"You're going to kill me?”

Both men finally softened, coming down their endorphin high. There was something so satisfying about your question. Arousing, even. They made it clear that your life was up to them, which meant they had you where they needed you.

"Am I having a blonde moment? I don't recall saying we'd kill her."

Aizawa threw an incredulous look his way before addressing you, "We aren't going to kill you. We wouldn't've saved you from that terrible animal if that were the plan. We don't kill just anyone. We wanted to introduce you to our lifestyle and now’s the best chance. Eri’s wanted to keep you since day one, but if you can't behave that'll be an issue. Can you prove to us that you’re going to behave or do we have to get you down into the cellar?”

There was no other choice than to nod. Picking up a piece of the dissected woman Hizashi muttered something about starting dinner before telling his husband that you really need to get more rest. Aizawa agreed, and since it seemed like you were having trouble getting rest he decided to give you another little dose of medicine.

#slasher au #mha x reader #bnha yandere #mha yandere #yandere erasermic #yandere erasermic x reader #yandere x reader

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stardewtales · 3 years

Note

Your shane x reader are some of the first I read when i got into sdv, and they still hold a li special place in my heart <3 I love the way you wrote shane, jas, and the farmer (you kept the farmer rather neutral, but you still gave her moments of personality, rlly great stuff!), anyway, I'd love any shane related stuff you would do, but if your looking for a request, the reader teaching him abt farming/gardening (planting hot peppers together eee) i think would be rlly cute-ok bye lysm!!!

A/N: hey lovely!! If you're still around, thank you so much for this. I'm sorry it's taken so long for me to get to your request, but here it is! Hope it lives up to your expectations xx

Shane can feel you hovering behind him.

"What is it," he groans, not bothering to turn around.

"Sorry," he hears you say. "Just, be careful with the roots, please? I don't want all your work to be for nothing."

Well, he can't exactly fault you for that. If anything, he's ashamed because he was distracted while you showed him the whole thing about the roots.

He turns to look at you. "Would you, uh... mind showing me again?"

His stomach twists as you smile at him, thoroughly amused. "Sure thing. Here, let me get in there..."

You kneel beside him, knees firmly planted in the dirt beside his. You proceed to show him how to dig around the roots instead of into them for a second time that afternoon. For a second time, he finds it hard to focus with you so close, but he fights that a little harder this time.

"Here," you hand him back the trowel, "give it another shot."

He can't miss the way the look you give him is so damn encouraging. You've given him plenty of variations on that look by now, with various degrees of concern thrown into the mix. He proceeds to try digging up the pepper plant again, the sun boring down on the back of his neck as he does it.

"Am I getting it right, now?" he asks, glancing up at you quickly.

"Couldn't do it better myself," you nod exaggeratedly, and he fakes throwing dirt at you in retaliation.

It gets a laugh out of you, clear and joyful. It stirs something inside him, the feeling that's been nagging at him sort of often these days. It hits him like a ton of bricks in that moment that this is the feeling he used to chase all the way down the bottles, the sort of rush he used to think would make up for everything else.

He must've made a face when he realized it, because your brows furrow in concern.

"Are you o-" you start, but you're cut off short by a girlish squeal further down the field.

Him and you both shoot up, surveying the surroundings.

"Jas?" you half-shout, concerned.

"I think I need some help," her voice pipes up sheepishly, and the two of you finally spot her, fallen on her butt among the sunflowers.

You huff, relieved, and tell him you've got it with a brief touch on his arm before you leave in Jas's direction. Now that he knows she's not hurt, he can go back to making sense of his thoughts, yet he barely registers the lingering feeling of your fingers on his forearm.

He kneels and gets back to work, distraught. His first instinct is to worry. The therapist Harvey connected him with cautioned him pretty early on about the way some addicts replaced one addiction with another, and that all good things should perhaps be enjoyed in moderation while he was on the road to recovery.

You're the best thing in his life by far, but he failed to keep you at arm's length a long time ago now. He's not dense enough to be unaware that he's developed some pretty strong feelings for you. But this particular feeling is new-ish, and he doesn't quite know what to make of it. As his fingers dig up the pepper plant out of the ground and he gently removes chunks of dirt from the roots, Shane hopes really hard this doesn't mean he's allowed himself to veer all the way of the right path he's been trying so hard to stick to.

He hates to think about it, but maybe he needs to cool off on seeing you so often so he can at least get a grip. He can't even recall the last time he went a day without seeing you. Sometime in the spring, probably? It's the very end of summer now.

After he's transferred the plant to the wheelbarrow, Shane stands up and looks around. You're still helping Jas uproot some sunflowers, even though her initial job was just to collect the stray seeds. Officially, he and her were there to help you wrap up the summer crops so you could transfer some to your greenhouse. In reality, he was helping you; Jas was causing more trouble than she was helping, but you didn't seem to mind at all, more than happy to show her over and over how to handle things properly.

He didn't know how you did it. It's like you had an endless well of patience, and he knew he ought to have reached the pit of it by now. And yet, he had not. There were depths to your kindness that reached far enough that even after dealing with him through his recovery, you still had plenty left for Jas in all her fumblings and ill-advised adventures.

For the rest of the afternoon Shane managed to clear his mind and just keep working somewhat efficiently. Marnie came around just before dinnertime to get Jas, who was too exhausted from running around by then to protest. Marnie had also let him know she'd save him a portion of dinner for when he came home, but to take his time, which he'd made sure to thank her for.

It wasn't long until Jas left before you and him moved on to replanting the uprooted plants into the greenhouse. He liked that part more than the digging up; liked the hazy warmth of the greenhouse more than the blaring heat of the field. The two of you worked mostly in silence, both exhausted, him perhaps more than you.

After you planted the last of yours and he was halfway through his own last plant, he heard you clap your hands together to shake the dirt off your gloves, before you fully shrieked.

"What's wrong?" he quickly turned towards you.

"Your neck!" you replied, walking over to him. "Did you not put on sunscreen like I told you to?"

Shane instinctively reaches for the back of his neck, and while the sunburn doesn't hurt yet, he can feel the tell-tale heat coming off of it.

"Ah, shit. Think I missed a spot."

You tut at him, shooing his hand off so you can take a better look.

"You big idiot," you chastise him affectionately. "You're lucky I have an infinite amount of aloe in the house from last summer."

**************

As Shane steps out of the shower and into your steam-filled bathroom, he can already tell he'll be sore from all this work. He doesn't know how you do this every day. He tries to get a look at himself in the mirror, but it's too fogged up. Probably better that way, he thinks.

He's used your shower plenty of times before, and he's glad that at the very least it doesn't feel as awkward as it used to. While he was still in the pits of getting sober, you'd graciously let him stay over on your couch so Jas didn't have to see him struggle when it got too hard. He still doesn't know why you did that, or how to repay you for it.

After putting on his clothes, he steps out into your living room, where you're waiting for him with a huge tub of the goo you intend to smear on his sunburn. You've showered too, and made him do it after you because otherwise you claimed he'd just wash off the aloe later, which was probably right.

"C'mere," you beckon him over to sit on the arm of your couch.

He chuckles. It's funny to him, how bossy you get when you're trying to take care of him. Nevertheless, he does as he's told and dutifully sits down like you instruct him. And waits.

Nothing happens.

"You okay back there?" he asks, looking over his shoulder.

You raise a brow. "Aren't you gonna take off your shirt? How am I supposed to get this on you otherwise?"

He feels a bubble of panic rush up. He's in better shape than he used to be, but he's still not much to look at, and he doesn't like the idea of you finding that out like this. "Is that really necessary?"

You sigh, and he knows there will be no convincing you. He feels the tips of his ears burn as he lifts his shirt over his head, dropping it at his feet and taking precious care not to look back at you. "Happy?" he mumbles.

"Hmhm," you hum quietly behind him.

You bring your aloe-coated fingers to his burning skin, and instantly he feels consumed by ice-cold flames. He was not prepared for you to touch him quite so gently, to work the gel into his skin in tiny, careful circles. His throat runs dry as he's reminded of his earlier conclusion that he needs to take some time away from you, for both of your sakes. If the way his body is reacting to this isn't proof, he doesn't know what would be.

You let him know you're done, and he promptly puts his shirt back on. He wishes he hadn't when the stickiness gets a hold of the collar.

"So, just a heads up," you start, screwing the jar of aloe vera shut, "I'm gonna be really busy tomorrow I think. So maybe hanging out in the evening when I'm done would be better?"

He's taken aback by the way this is coming up faster than he anticipated. Still, No time like the present I guess, he thinks to himself.

"About that," he clears his throat, "I think it might be better if I spend some alone time for a while."

He watches you still. You look up at him slowly, visibly confused. "Have I done something wrong?" you ask, and it kills him. "I'm sorry if I have, I know I can be a little overbearing sometimes," you start to ramble, but he cuts you off.

"No, no, none of that," he tries to reassure you. "It's just, uh, how do I say this," he scratches at his head, genuinely at a loss. "Remember how I told you my therapist said I should, like, maybe be careful about things I enjoy a lot? And about... strong emotions?"

You nod, but he can tell from your slight frown you're still confused.

"Well, it's kinda like that. I feel really good when I'm with you. Maybe a little too good. Strong stuff. But I don't wanna depend on you to feel... good. I wanna keep this healthy, yeah?"

You ponder his words, and he can tell he hasn't really gotten his point across. "I mean, I think I get where you're coming from, maybe? But Shane, I think it's okay for you to have a support system. Is it really so bad if being with a friend makes you feel good? I think that's how most people feel."

He shakes his head, huffing. "No, it's not like that."

"Then what is it like?"

His eyes meet yours, and he feels weak. "Please don't make me say it," he whispers.

"Shane," you reach out to touch his shoulder, "You're worrying me."

He swallows. Before he knows it, it tumbles out of him. "I have feelings for you. I have for a while. And lately it's gotten a little out of control. So I need some time away from you to get over it, okay? I don't want things to be weird. I need you too much to have things be weird. So I need to figure it out before it gets there."

You stare at him, and he sees so many emotions run across your face that he gets dizzy.

"You... what?" you say quietly after a while.

He feels heat rise from his chest all the way to his ears, like some twisted type of nausea. "Forget it, alright? That's not the point I'm trying to make. I just..." he breathes, "I'll see you in a few days, yeah?"

He doesn't wait for a response. He goes for the door right away, in a real hurry to leave this place where everything is so blatantly yours, down to the smell of your lotion lingering in the air from your bare legs.

But you don't let him leave. He feels your hand on his arm, a real grip this time, and the next thing he knows you're reaching for his neck and bringing his mouth to meet yours. Shane thinks he's forgotten how to make his blood run, how to make his lungs breathe, how to make his limbs move. You're pressing your lips on his with a fervor he didn't even know you had in you. Then, with an instinct of its own, his body kicks back into gear, and he feels himself wrapping his arms around you, bringing you closer yet as he pours all the energy he has left into kissing you back.

It's desperation that compels him, because he never imagined this would ever happen outside of his mind, outside of his daydreams. He's not even convinced he'll ever get to do it again, so he's making this one count.

He genuinely has no idea how much time has passed when you break away from him, panting. You're not saying anything, just searching his eyes with yours.

"Please say something," he eventually breathes.

He watches as you swallow, then exhale loudly. "I don't want to see you in a few days only. I wanna see you now and in the middle of the night and every moment of every day. I don't want you to go and get over me, because I don't think I'll be able to get over you if you do, Shane. So don't leave me. Stay. Please."

Your words fluster him a great deal more than he already is. "Okay," he nods, in a half-daze.

"Yeah?" you make sure, still catching your breath.

"Yeah," he confirms. "Anything for you. Of course."

#shane x reader #shane x farmer #stardew shane #sdv shane #stardew valley x reader #stardew valley shane #stardew valley #sdv

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watchmegetobsessed · 3 years

Text

Baby Grammy - Harry Styles

a/n: yall have no idea how obsessed i am with this whole dadrry x grammy concept and i think it will take me a month to process everything but in the meanwhile, accept this painfully cute fluff which is kind of part 2 to Grammy Winning Husband, but it serves well as a stand alone fic too!

pairing: Husband!Harry / Dad!Harry x Pregnant!Reader

warning: just a little mentioning of some slight smut, nothing heavy or detailed

word count: 1.2k

masterlist

“You know, this makes a nice table décor,” you smirk, stuffing some more oatmeal into your mouth as the two of you sit at the dining table in the morning, Harry’s Grammy sitting in the middle of it, the morning sun making it sparkle right in front of your eyes.

“Yeah, but might be a little too flashy to keep it here,” he huffs with a grin as he finishes his breakfast. His eyes scan over the award, he still haven’t fully processed that he has won his first ever Grammy. “It’ll be fine in the study.”

“Wherever you want to keep it,” you smile at him, reaching over you squeeze his hand gently.

This morning has been peaceful but filled with wholesome moments. Waking up Harry’s hand was glued to your belly as he spooned you from behind, a tiny foot pushing right against his palm, wishing him a good morning in the best way possible. He kissed your shoulder and the back of your neck until you hummed and blinked your eyes open.

“Good morning, Mr. Grammy,” you teased him, puckering your lips for a sweet morning kiss.

“That makes you Mrs. Grammy,” he grinned and leaning down he captured your lips in a deeper, more passionate kiss as his hand wandered up to your swollen breast, his touch gentle, knowing well how sensitive you’ve been.

The kiss soon escalated, especially when his hand moved down between your legs and you moaned his name. He made sure you started the day satisfied and you wouldn’t have felt like a good wife if you didn’t returne the favor, using your hands to please him. When your belly started growing in the beginning of your pregnancy, you had quite a few concerns Harry wouldn’t find you attractive anymore, that seeing you grow so big would be a turn off, but he assured you it would never be the case.

“You have no idea how big of a turn on it is to know that it’s my baby in there,” he murmured when one evening you spoke your fears finally and he has proven it enough since then that those weren’t just empty words.

You had a quick shower together before making breakfast and now the two of you have a whole day of doing nothing ahead of you, just what you need.

“Still hungry?” Harry asks when you finish your breakfast, but you shake your head no leaning back in your chair.

“No, it was more than enough. Thank you,” you smile at him as he kisses your forehead, grabbing your plates to bring it over to the sink and quickly rinse them.

Sighing happily your eyes fall to the award on the table, smiling proudly at the thought that your husband finally got the recognition he always deserved. You take the little golden phonograph to take a closer look at it, setting it on top of your belly. It’s been a common thing since your belly has been the size of a watermelon, one time Harry came home to you eating Oreos off of it and he didn’t stop teasing you about it for days. But what can you say? You didn’t feel like having to wash a plate so you used what you had.

What you don’t realize is when Harry comes back from the kitchen and his heart flutters in his chest at the sight. The light is coming from behind you as you sit sideways to him, making you appear like a silhouette with your big belly and the award on top of it. Harry can’t stop himself from grabbing his phone and snapping a rather artsy photo of the moment, immediately setting it as his lockscreen.

Walking up to you he shows you the photo and you smile with a blush.

“Can I… Can I post this?” he asks shyly, sitting back next to you. His hand runs down your stomach as you place the award back to the table.

“Oh, you sure about that?” you ask. At the very beginning of your pregnancy he expressed how he wanted to keep it private for as long as possible. He felt like it’s something he would like to experience without worrying about the world watching every step of his and yours. So far, you’ve been quite successful in it, other than your closest friends and family, no one even suspects that the two of you are about to become parents in a few weeks. Posting the photo would be a major change in the plan, not that you are bothered by it. You would have been fine with whatever he wanted, making it public wouldn’t have bothered you that much, so it was really his call on the situation.

“Yeah. I have never felt happier in my life and I want to share it with the world,” he nods.

“It would be your first post since your win, I’m afraid it would take the shine away from your achievement,” you tell him. You’re happy he wants to share the news with his fans, but your bump would surely take a bigger chunk of the spotlight if he posted that exact photo and you’d hate to make it about you when the Grammy is such a huge thing, all about him.

“Baby,” he smiles softly. “My biggest achievement is this right here,” he softly tells, cupping your belly once again. “And I wouldn’t have won that if you weren’t by my side,” he adds, nodding towards the award. “I just want to show the world how proud I am of everything I have. If people focus on you instead of the award, I’m more than okay with that,” he chuckles sweetly and you can feel your eye tearing up already. “You deserve all the attention and love.”

“I hate that you can make me cry so easily,” you laugh through your tears as you grab the back of his neck and pull him in for a kiss. “You can post the picture if you want. Do whatever makes you happy.”

Smiling gratefully, he kisses you a few more times before he unlocks his phone and goes to Instagram. You rest your head on his shoulder as he edits the photo just a little, adding more contrast so it really is just your frame showing in the sunlight with the Grammy on top of your massive bump. He hesitates a little before typing in a capture for the post.

“Might convince her to make his second name Grammy.”

You start laughing as he grins at his hilarious joke, posting the picture, letting the world in on the happy news you’ve learned quite a few months before.

“Though it might be epic, we are not naming him Grammy,” you tell him, giving his arm a squeeze.

“Why not? We didn’t choose a second name, might sound interesting.”

“Theodore Grammy Styles? Nah-ah, don’t even think about it,” you shake your head, reaching for your juice on the table.

“No?” he smirks teasingly. “Just think about it, our little Baby Grammy! Aw!”

“Harry, I swear to God I’m leaving if you call our son Grammy again,” you warn him, but he sees the playful shine in your eyes, you both know it’s just a joke.

“Alright, we are sticking to our original plan,” he nods. Leaning over he presses a sloppy kiss to your cheek before your belly gets one too. “Can’t wait to meet you, buddy,” he hums with the cheesiest but most genuine smile on his face.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles au #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #dad!harry #husband!harry

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moiraineswife · 3 years

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Autistic Allegories in Renarin’s Arc - Meta

s’up y’all, your favourite local rambler is back at it again. Diving straight in to this one. The motivation for this post is something that might be controversial, and I’m going to try and explain it as clearly as I can and make my intentions clear, but I get this is the internet and things get misinterpreted to fuck.

So, since Renarin was confirmed to be a queer character, I’ve seen a lot of posts and takes on pretty much every platform I frequent that equates all of Renarin’s traits/struggles in canon as being foreshadowing/parallels to his queer identity and experience.

I get this. I’m also queer. I understand the instinct to take, say, Renarin’s corrupted spren bond and his desire to keep his nature as a Radiant hidden/his lack of understanding initially and assume it to be queer foreshadowing/parallel. I big get that. And that’s not a bad interpretation.

The problem is, this is the ONLY interpretation people put forth. They ignore things explicitly said/connections made in canon to Renarin being autistic and say ‘this is it. this is what this means. it’s about him being gay’. When, actually, a good chunk of it is about his experience as an autistic man in an allistic society. Which I think is what Brandon wants to explore/has set up in the text.

So I decided to look at this in more depth from an autistic perspective - some of the moments that most clearly parallel Renarin’s autistic experience and explain how and why this is a thing, and hopefully just highlight this aspect of his character and explain things to folks.

Renarin’s Blade Screaming

Jumping right into it then: Renarin’s bond with Glys is very clearly paralleled with his autism. The text outlines this connection multiple times throughout the series, and explores it in interesting ways.

First up, Renarin first revealing himself as a Truthwatcher makes this pretty clear:

“And the Shardblade,” Dalinar said, stepping over and taking his son by the shoulder. “You hear screams. That’s what happened to you in the arena. You couldn’t fight because of those shouts in your head from summoning the Blade. Why? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I thought it was me,” Renarin whispered. “My mind. But Glys, he says . . .” Renarin blinked. “Truthwatcher.” (WoR)

“Adolin,” he said softly. “I … um … I have to give you back the Shardblade you won for me.”

“Why?” Adolin said.

“It hurts to hold,” Renarin said. “It always has, to be honest. I thought it was just me, being strange. But it’s all of us.”

“Radiants, you mean.”

He nodded. (Oathbringer)

Renarin didn’t explain to his father or the others what was happening to him because he thought it was part of his autistic experience.

Being autistic you get used to experiencing a lot of in-brain things and not realising that other people don’t experience them, too. I have hypersensitivity to sound. I can hear things other people don’t, because their brains naturally filter them out - like electronics whining.

The experience of having a Shardblade scream inside your head is actually a pretty great parallel for sensory overload. It’s something intense, something frightening, and overwhelming, and even painful. But Renarin just endures it without comment because that’s what we’re conditioned to do.

“A group of shellheads tried to seize one of the bridges, Brightlord,” the bridgeman said softly. “Brightlord Renarin insisted on going to help. Sir, we tried hard to dissuade him. Then, when he got near and summoned his Blade, he just kind of . . . stood there. We got him away, sir, but he’s been sitting on that rock ever since.”

[...]

“I just stood there,” Renarin said. “I wasn’t frozen because of my . . . ailment. I’m just a coward.”

When Adolin hears about Renarin freezing up he assumes that he had a fit. Renarin corrects him on this, once he’s verbal again, but says that he was just a coward.

He froze up once he summoned his Blade. Because it would have started screaming in his head and this was overwhelming. When other Radiants have experienced this on-screen the screaming has been so intense they immediately dropped or dismissed the Blade, unable to hold it.

From this, I infer that Renarin believes everyone experiences this when they fight with a Shardblade. He doesn’t realise that it’s strange for him because he’s a Radiant. He thinks everyone experiences it, but they push through and overcome it. He can’t, and instead of thinking something strange is going on, he assumes that it’s a weakness of his and that he’s a coward.

This is a fairly common autistic experience. Why can’t you just get over this? Why is that overwhelming you? Just ignore the sound. Just ignore the lights. Stop being so weak/oversensitive.

That’s what Renarin thinks is happening. That’s why he doesn’t examine his experiences more closely, and realise he’s a Radiant. He thinks it’s part of him being autistic, and that he’s just being overly sensitive, until Glys is able to communicate with him and explain he’s a Truthwatcher.

The Rhyshadium Don’t Fit

“They don’t fit, you know.”

“Don’t fit?”

“Ryshadium have stone hooves,” Renarin said, “stronger than ordinary horses’. Never need to be shod.”

“And that makes them not fit? I’d say that makes them fit better.…” Adolin eyed Renarin. “You mean ordinary horses, don’t you?”

Renarin blushed, then nodded. (Oathbringer)

This, for me, is one of the most direct and obvious parallel between Renarin’s experience as an autistic man, and his experience as a Radiant.

Firstly, he comments on the Rhyshadium ‘not fitting’ with ordinary horses. They’re different. They have different hooves, which means they never need to be shod, like regular horses. In this case, being shod is something all horses do. It’s something natural for them, and the Rhyshadium not having it makes them stand out. This is similar to Renarin’s experience in society and in life.

The Rhyshadium are sometimes called ‘the third shard’ - they’re tied to the Radiants and to Stormlight. Renarin aligning himself with them, and his not fittng with them not fitting, mirrors his being Radiant stopping him from fitting in as he wants to.

A big part of his arc is his desire to fit in somewhere. His integration with Bridge Four is a huge boost to his confidence. He asks to join them to try and find somewhere to belong. The bridgemen are outcasts. They’re people who don’t fit in society, either, for various different reasons. Renarin fits with them, therefore, because he doesn’t fit elsewhere.

When he starts becoming a Radiant, and a different type of Radiant to the others, he starts to worry again. He worries that, yet again, he’s different for reasons he cannot control, and he’s worried the bridgemen will abandon or reject him as has happened frequently in noble society.

“So why are you embarrassed?”

“I’m … not?”

Adolin gave him a flat stare.

Renarin dismissed the Blade. “I simply … Adolin, I was starting to fit in. With Bridge Four, with being a Shardbearer. Now, I’m in the darkness again. Father expects me to be a Radiant, so I can help him unite the world. But how am I supposed to learn?”

Adolin scratched his chin with his good hand. “Huh. I assumed that it just kind of came to you. It hasn’t?”

“Some has. But it … frightens me, Adolin.” He held up his hand, and it started to glow, wisps of Stormlight trailing off it, like smoke from a fire. “What if I hurt someone, or ruin things?”

The conversation continues, and further solidifies the connection between the Rhyshadium not fitting with other horses, and Renarin not fitting in with other people.

He had become a Shardbearer, and was starting to fight and do what an Alethi man is expected to do in society. Go to war with Shards, with glory, etc etc etc. That didn’t quite work out.

For Renarin, whenever he gets closer to assimilating with the standard society and expectations, something happens to stop him. Initially it’s his epilepsy. He has fits, and his chronic illness makes him generally weaker and more frail, meaning that he can’t fight.

Once he’s given Shards to help mitigate those factors, he can’t use the Shards because his Radiant bond makes them scream inside his head. Again stopping him from fighting and becoming a soldier.

He then goes on to tell Adolin that he doesn’t really know how to Radiant. And Adolin says that he thought it would just come to him/he would instinctively know, but he doesn’t.

This is, again, a very classic autism thing. We struggle with doing things that allistic people find instinctive, and don’t need to be actively taught - such as reading and projecting the correct body language.

Adolin, who takes very naturally to all this stuff, just assumes that Renarin’s Radianting would just come to him, and Renarin has to explain that actually no, it hasn’t. This literally cannot get any clearer in forging an obvious link between his autism and his Radiant abilities.

Renarin’s ‘Corrupted’ Bond:

“What’s wrong with me?” Renarin asked. “Why do I see these things? I thought I was doing something right, with Glys, but somehow it’s all wrong.…” (Oathbringer)

[...]

“Does it strike you as cruel of fate, Father? My blood sickness gets healed, so I can finally be a soldier like I always wanted. But that same healing has given me another kind of fit. More dangerous than the other by far.” (Rhythm of War)

[...]

Lopen called out, asking Renarin to “look into the future and find out if I beat Huio at cards tomorrow.” It seemed a little crass to Dalinar, bringing up his son’s strange disorder, but Renarin took it with a chuckle.

[...]

It would be so much easier if he were like other Radiants. (RoW)

[...]

“And a blackness interfering, marring the beauty of the window. Like a sickness infecting both of you, at the edges.”

“Curious,” Dalinar said, looking where Renarin had pointed, though he’d see only empty air. “I wonder if we’ll ever know what that represents.”

“Oh, that one’s easy, Father,” Renarin said. “That’s me.”

“Renarin, I don’t think you should see yourself as—”

“You needn’t try to protect my ego, Father. When Glys and I bonded, we became … something new. We see the future. At first I was confused at my place—but I’ve come to understand. What I see interferes with Odium’s ability. Because I can see possibilities of the future, my knowledge changes what I will do. Therefore, his ability to see my future is obscured. Anyone close to me is difficult for him to read.”

“I find that comforting,” Dalinar said, putting his arm around Renarin’s shoulders. “Whatever you are, son, it’s a blessing. You might be a different kind of Radiant, but you’re Radiant all the same. You shouldn’t feel you need to hide this or your spren.”

Renarin ducked his head, embarrassed. His father knew not to touch him too quickly, too unexpectedly, so it wasn’t the arm around his shoulders. It was just that … well, Dalinar was so accustomed to being able to do whatever he wanted. He had written a storming book.

Renarin held no illusions that he would be similarly accepted. He and his father might be of similar rank, from the same family, but Renarin had never been able to navigate society like Dalinar did. True, his father at times “navigated” society like a chull marching through a crowd, but people got out of the way all the same.

Not for Renarin. The people of both Alethkar and Azir had thousands of years training them to fear and condemn anyone who claimed to be able to see the future. They weren’t going to put that aside easily, and particularly not for Renarin. (RoW)

Sorry for the quote barrage, but there was really no other way to do this, and I think it makes a nice little arc in how Renarin sees himself and his bond to Glys and, by extension, his autism.

In the temple, with Jasnah, he considers it to be something wrong. He’d thought he was finally fitting in, being like everyone else, doing something “right” but it turns out his bond is of Odium, and while he thought he fit with the others, he doesn’t. Again.

The RoW segments are what’s most interesting to me, because what we see here, I think, is Dalinar experiencing Renarin’s ‘disorder’ as he calls it and processing it/coming to terms with it in a way a lot of parents approach their kids’ autism. But this is a bit more approachable/less painful to look at because he’s considering him being a weird glowing power ranger, and not an autistic kid. Easier to examine more honestly.

So first of all Renarin, again, calls a direct link between his bond and his autism. The ‘healing’ that came with his bond gave him another kind of otherness. Another way he can’t be a soldier - which, for Renarin, in Alethi society, means him being like everyone else. I was going to go into this more here but this thing is already long as fuck, but in a nutshell being a soldier is Renarin’s dream because that’s him being “normal” and being like everyone else, which fate always conspires to stop him from being.

In Alethi society the peak of masculinity and of fitting in to the social order, which revolves around war and glory and battle courage blah blah blah - is being a soldier and fighting. Which Renarin has never been able to do. Which his father has always wanted him to do - wihich Renarin knows.

A lot of allistic people, especially allistic parents, think their autistic kids won’t pick up on their blatant ‘oh my god I wish my kid was normal’ vibes. They do. BELIEVE ME they do. This is a good little nod to that. Dalinar has never outright looked at Renarin and said ‘I want you to be a soldier to be worthy of my love and respect’ but it’s what Renarin grew up knowing and seeing from him.

The evolution of that through exploring Dalinar’s attitude to Renarin being bonded with an Odium-aligned spren is...Utterly fascinating, to say the least.

Here, for example, Dalinar sees it as a “strange disorder”. When Renarin calls a spade a spade and just goes ‘yeah no that weird thing right there that makes you comfortable? That’s me, buddy, get used to it’. Which is just. Absolutely effervescent. There’s a big instinct allistic people have to dance around autistic people. So many innuendos. So many fluffy phrase that I hate. “On the spectrum.” “On the autism spectrum”. “Differently abled” “Sees the world differently.” Just call me autistic and let me move on with life I do not have time to deal with your internalised issues.

He kind of comes around on it and gives him the whole “you might be a different Radiant but you’re still a Radiant to me, son”. Replace the word Radiant here with person and you’ll have a conversation I’ve experienced so many times. “Just because you’re a weird person doesn’t mean you’re not still a person!” Why thank you for pointing that out. I hadn’t noticed....Thank you for validating my humanity to my face?? As though I needed you to do that?

Contrast this with Renarin’s cheerful acceptance (ABSOLUTELY STUNNING DEVELOPMENT, HELL YES) - ‘yeah no that weird thing right there is me’. I cheered, dear reader, I CHEERED. It’s a little thing but it’s also a very very big thing.

So is Lopen making light of things - in a way that laughs with Renarin and not at him - wanting him to predict the outcome of his card game. Renarin laughs at this, and is obviously comfortable with the jokes and the camaraderie. Dalinar winces at this and thinks that it shouldn’t be made fun of this way, that it’s crass or wrong, Renarin has a disorder, it makes him weird and delicate, people shouldn’t joke around him with that, it’s not right. But Renarin is comfortable with it, and the Bridgemen are comfortable with him, which Dalinar obviously isn’t - though I get that he’s trying to go there.

Then, again, we draw a very direct parallel between Renarin’s Radiant experience othering him socially and autism othering a person socially. Absolutely exquisitely done mister sando, very nice indeed.

Renarin notes that there are ways to go through society. It’s nice to be like Dalinar and have the clout to buck the expectations, and not do what you’re supposed to, and still get away with it. Isn’t that nice? Bitch wrote and published a book and he’s still seen as masculine and worthy of respect and being yielded too.

Remember that Renarin can read and write as well - he learned so he could interpret his visions. But he hasn’t shared that with people. Because he knows that it won’t be accepted the way Dalinar was.

Sanderson sets up this idea rather nicely in Oathbringer, actually, with the scribes meeting.

Renarin glanced at his father. Dalinar responded with a raised fist.

He came so Renarin wouldn’t feel awkward, Shallan realized. It can’t be improper or feminine for the prince to be here if the storming Blackthorn decides to attend.

This part has always made my heart happy. Because it’s not just about Dalinar validating Renarin’s societally ‘feminine’ tendencies - which he gets subtly bullied/mocked for during that meeting by one of the other women in attendance. It’s about all of his differences, it’s about Dalinar validating his autistic experience as well, and helping to fit him in to a society that continually rejects and ousts him.

This idea evolves through RoW, however, with Renarin understanding that Dalinar can do things that he won’t be allowed to get away with. Dalinar isn’t so much breaking down barriers with Oathbringer as he is stomping through them because he has enough social privilege to do so, for the most part, unscathed.

Renarin keeps his reading a secret because, even after what Dalinar has done, it’s not going to change things for most men, and certainly not him.

Renarin has learned, throughout his life, that him being different is not going to break down any barriers. People are not going to change their world, or their worldview, for him and his differences. He knows that he has to adapt, and he knows that he won’t be afforded the same luxuries as others.

He’s more comfortable with this now. He’s learning to be himself, and learning that the world won’t fit itself to him, he just has to do what he’s going to do anyway, and find the places where he fits, rather than trying to change the ones where he doesn’t. It’s actually a really beautiful little arc, and I’m strongly tempted to look at it in more depth at some point. Renarin and Dalinar’s dynamic is actually incredibly deep, layerd, and complex, and it’s something I’ve been meaning to look at for a while. HOWEVER. NOW IS NOT THE TIME FOR THAT.

TL;DR: Renarin’s Radiant experience is a direct allegory and parallel to his autistic experience. This is explored and made blatant by canon repeatedly, throughout the series, and Renarin’s experience as a Radiant is clearly a vessel by which Sanderson intends to explore his autism. Stop erasing and ignoring this when you talk about Renarin and analyse his arc. His autism is as intrinsic to this as it is to identity. It’s part of him. Stop erasing it.

I’m not saying you can’t find parallels or comfort in Renarin’s arc as a queer person. I’m just saying you cannot look at it in isolation. As though the text is ONLY making a parallel between his queer identity and his bond. Because it’s very fucking blatantly not. His autism is obviously and canonically tied to his Radiant bond and this is something that MUST be noted whenever you talk about this aspect of Renarin’s character.

Note: if anyone has any questions or comments on this, I am happy to engage and to clarify what I meant/add further detail and supporting evidence for various different aspects. There’s only so much I can cover in one post! For my sanity as well as yours...But there’s absolutely more, and I’m happy to look at that as well.

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