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thenamesseven · 3 years

Text

Pairing: Jongho x reader

Genre: Romance, angst, jail au!

Warnings: Mentions of blood, not too descriptive but yeah, there’s some home made surgery in this chapter 🤣

Word count: 5.9k, this one is loooong

A/N: Another new chapter that brings us closer to the end! Hope you guys enjoy it!

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Standing in front of the stove, you couldn’t help but smile, staring down at the perfect yet fluffy pancakes you had been cooking for a few minutes now. Your tongue was poking out of your lips, a sign of concentration while teeth bit down on it gently right before one of your hands moved, slowly flipping an almost cooked pancake, leaving it on the pan for a little longer.

You should have heard the ruffling of the bed sheets, the quiet steps around the room as he searched for something to wear, at least a shirt, since he didn’t like to walk around in just his underwear. You should have heard the door creak when he opened it or the way he usually yawned when he woke up, so loud, that instead of a husband it felt like you had a lion in your house. You just were so focused on the food you were preparing that none of those sounds told you he was awake.

In fact, it wasn’t until he walked in the kitchen and wrapped his arms around your waist from behind that you knew he was out of dreamland and back into the perfect reality the two of you had. You welcomed the feeling of his warmth surrounding you, his natural scent drowning your senses and the feeling of a subtle bear brush against your neck when he went to nuzzle it.

“(Y/N)” Jongho’s voice called your name but instead of a smile, the sound only brought a frown to your face. There was something in his tone that didn't make it as pleasant as always, he sounded scared…Urgent "(Y/N)!" He repeated, volume getting slightly louder, however, when you were about to turn around and face him to see what was wrong, his grip tightened, not allowing you to look at him "(Y/N)!" Jongho actually shouted. You started panicking, there was something obviously wrong in this situation but since he wouldn’t let you move, there was nothing you could do either. “(Y/N)!” Jongho’s voice turned slightly distorted, a sound that you’ve only heard in nightmares, the more you listened to his voice, the less it sounded like him.

“(Y/N)!” You closed your eyes when he slightly shook you, your mouth opening to say anything that would get him to stop, that would get his attention but no words came out. “(Y/N)! (Y/N)! (Y/N)” You took in a deep breath, getting ready to try your best and shout, hoping that would work while he kept calling your name.

"(Y/N)!"

Right as you had been ready to scream your lungs out, you were brought back to consciousness when your name was called once again. Instead of shouting, your body desperately gasped for air loudly, as if you had been drowning. Wooyoung's persistent tries had ripped you away from your dream successfully, he had pulled you out of that nightmare.

Incredibly confused and still feeling too weak to mutter a word, you only glanced around, observing your new surroundings and trying to see where you were at the moment. Your vision was not completely clear but you could guess you were inside of a car, probably a vehicle that was carrying more people than the law allowed but that was probably the least of the guys’ worries after everything that had happened.

"Oh thank God she's awake!" Wooyoung exclaimed with triumph when he looked down into your open eyes, keeping your head on his shoulder, holding you tightly against his body. Whoever was driving was doing it recklessly and he didn't want to take the risk of letting you fall down with that bullet still inside of you.

"(Y/N)! How are you holding up?" It was San's voice the one that asked the question but when you slightly lifted your head to look at his direction, you did not only see him but Mingi as well.

A weak frown appeared between your eyebrows, too tired to freak out or make all the questions you wanted to ask "Apparently not too well, I'm seeing Mingi right there" You mumbled, your voice weak but clear enough for all of them to hear you.

Someone laughed from the front seats, it took you a couple of minutes to figure out it had been Hongjoong "That's because he is sitting right there!" Yunho exclaimed amused.

Mingi, as if sensing your extreme confusion, tilted his head so he could meet your eyes without San's head getting in the way. There was a small apologetic smile on his lips when you looked at him again with a bigger frown, one of his hands moving up to wave at you "Hi (Y/N), we have a lot to catch up on"

You were about to open your mouth and reply to his statement, not even knowing what you could say in this kind of situation but the pain in your side was quick to shut your mouth just as quickly as you had opened it, only allowing you to groan in pain. Wooyoung tightened his hold around you, noticing how you tensed up in his arms while he reached out to brush his fingers through your hair, getting some of the strands away from your sweaty forehead.

"(Y/N)" Hongjoong looked at you briefly through the rearview mirror, hands gripping the steering wheel as he tried to multitask, keeping half of his attention on you and half on the road ahead of him "Remember what happened back there?"

You nodded softly, trying to move as little as possible "Someone shot us, Wooyoung is also injured" You muttered glancing up at him, Wooyoung only shook his head, silently letting you know he was not in such a bad state.

"You want the bad news or the really bad news first?" Hongjoong asked with a small smile, trying to brush off some of the tension that was slowly filling up the car, making everyone’s chests heavy with pressure and fear.

"No good news?" You asked frowning, either San or Mingi had the audacity to chuckle at your question.

"Unfortunately no" Hongjoong replied seriously not even wasting a second to think about the possibility of sugar coating the entire situation for you "We suspect the bullet went straight through Wooyoung and landed in you" He said, deciding to deliver the news anyways, there was no point in delaying it more "We have to get it out of you"

"Excuse me, what?" You asked, alarmed and tensing up again, which made another groan escape your lips.

“We all have zero medical knowledge, you’ll have to stay conscious and help us get that bullet out of your body” Hongjoong explained again, not even talking slower since your brain would end up processing the words he was saying sooner or later.

“Don’t you have like, a secret doctor or someone that could help us out?” You asked as the entire car seemed to be spinning around, making your head hurt since you kept trying to focus your vision “Who cured Mingi’s stabbing?”

“I did” San said “And I was hoping the entire time what I was doing was working because I had little to no idea of how to treat stab wounds that were so deep” He confessed, reaching up to scratch the back part of his neck as if he was an embarrassed child.

“It’s basically a miracle that I’m alive” Mingi joked, earning a slap on his chest from his friend that would have made everyone laugh if you and Wooyoung weren’t about to lose consciousness because of all the blood you were losing.

“You guys need a doctor…” You attempted to say but the words started coming out slurred, vision turning even more blurry. You were seconds away from passing out and by the way Wooyoung’s grip on you was turning slightly weaker, he was at his very limit as well.

“You watch too many gangster movies (Y/N)” Yunho joked from his seat.

You wanted to laugh at that, the comment had been kind of funny but only a smile brushed past your lips before your eyes closed and everything turned black for the second time.

By the look on Seonghwa’s face, Jaehyun could tell something in their plan had gone absolutely wrong. Sitting in one of those comfortable little leather seats he had in the corner of his office, nearby the shelves full of books he probably never read, the inmate watched his business' partner carefully, reading his body language.

An amateur would have gone with the first impression and said Seongwha still had everything under control by the way he kept his feet crossed on top of the table, his body slouched back against the seat but someone as experienced as Jaehyun focused on the small details, the things someone would easily miss and he knew everything had taken an unexpected turn.

And not for the good.

It was the way his fingers tapped the desk in front of him at an unknown yet irregular beat, the way his breath seemed to slow down whenever the other person on the line talked, how he kept his eyes down while his mind was trying to calculate all the mistakes he would have to fix. This could be the first time Jaehyun would probably watch him lose his cool, he had thought that was totally impossible but you and your little games were managing to do that.

“Alright” He said, voice flat and lacking any kind of emotion “Call me if you find anything new, something that could tell us where they’re hiding” Jaehyun’s head popped up at the sound of that, finally confirming you and Wooyoung had managed to survive their trap somehow, which was incredibly surprising if he was completely honest.

Keeping his eyes on him, Jaehyun watched as Seonghwa hung up on the call, stayed quiet as he looked down at his phone for a few seconds and then placed it back down on the table. The inmate thought he would throw it against the wall but to his surprise, he controlled himself and didn’t break it.

“Two corpses, both males and none of them is Wooyoung” He said, keeping his eyes down on his hands as he kept them on his lap, nervously fidgeting with the clothes he was wearing, straining his mind for any kind of solutions “We’re fucked up”

“What are they? Cockroaches? How could they survive that?” Jaehyun scoffed, standing up from his seat since he didn’t feel that comfortable anymore. Even when he knew what the phone call was about, hearing Seonghwa actually say it out loud made it even more nerve-wracking. “Any places they could be hiding in?”

“They vanished, gone, like they never existed” Seongwha pinched the bridge of his nose, not knowing if the situation was frustrating him or it was Jaehyun’s abundant questions what was making him get in such a bad mood.

“Then we’ll just have to make them come out” Jaehyun said, as he plopped back down on his seat, crossing one leg over the other comfortably. The solution had been there in front of them the entire time but the stress and tension weren’t letting them think properly.

“Well done Sherlock” Seonghwa scoffed, not one bit of amusement present in his sarcasm “How do we do that?”

“You have the thing they want the most” Jaehyun replied smiling, staring straight into his friends eyes “It’s been here with us all this time and you’ll be able to get rid of all of them as soon as they come for it, as soon as they try to rescue their friend”

“Jongho” Seongwha whispered, as if it had been the biggest secret in the entire universe.

Little did they knew that no matter how low they talked, they could have never defeated the experienced ears listening from the outside. Yoongi had only been walking by on his way to his cell right after dinner, the guard accompanying him had been easily distracted, too quick to give his trust to him since after all, he wasn’t an inmate that usually caused trouble around.

A sigh escaped his lips before he kept walking, not wanting to tempt his luck and get caught in the middle of something he wouldn’t be able to explain. Yoongi was definitely not one that got into other businesses, he just wanted to redeem himself and get out of this hell hole as quick as he could but, helping his cellmate wouldn’t hurt, right?

Someone needed to warn Jongho and that someone would have to be him.

It was the extremely bright light what brought you back to consciousness once again. At first, you had thought you were seeing the light at the end of the tunnel every book and movie talked about when it came to death although you were forced to open your eyes when you realized you couldn’t move away or closer to it. The first thing you saw was someone extremely tall, towering over you, holding the source of the bright light, making you flinch and close your eyes once again, too uncomfortable with so much brightness.

“Mingi you’re going to burn their eyes with that!” Someone exclaimed, making the male flinch and move the light away from you without turning it off. It got better but it was still a bit too overwhelming for you.

“Well, that’s why they’re sleeping during surgeries! What the hell am I supposed to do!?” He replied, sounding frustrated.

“Turn that off! We have enough with the normal light” San said from somewhere, your vision was still too blurry to try and locate the guys.

“Mingi” Wooyoung groaned, his voice came from beside you, in fact, you only had to slightly stretch out your arm to be able to touch him. The male was surprised for a second, not having expected you to be so close and yet, when he turned his head and saw you were still conscious, he couldn’t help but slightly smile in relief. This was not over the both of you were still alive “Turn that off”

“Sorry, sorry”

As soon as the blinding light was turned off, the both of you could sigh in absolute relief, feeling slightly better as you waited for your eyes to adjust to the new illumination which was way lower but still bright, you felt way better if you kept your eyes closed.

“(Y/N)” Recognizing Yunho’s voice, you could only hum in response, letting him know you were listening to him. A cold, wet piece of clothing landed on your forehead, soothing some of the burning sensation running through your veins and cleaning the drops of sweat that had started to appear on your skin “Ready?” They were not wasting any time, which told you the situation wasn’t as good as you hoped it would be.

“We need instructions” Hongjoong said serious, voice sounding like business. You couldn’t see his face right now but you would bet all your money on him being incredibly serious.

“Wooyoung first” You muttered, hearing him complaining beside you, probably saying something about how they should take care of your wounds first but he had saved your life or at least, risked his own to save yours so you weren’t going to put yourself before him “You guys need lots of towels, sterilized needles, thread and...Bandages….Yeah, bandages….” You whispered, voice quiet and low as you tried to keep yourself conscious and focused on the task. Although it was harder that it seemed to be, specially with the strong pain you kept feeling in your side.

“So we just sew the wound and that’s it for him?” San asked, walking around the table to approach him, Yunho moved the towel on your forehead, flipping it so the colder side would land on your heating face.

“Did the bullet go through him or did it just scratch him badly?” You asked back, head hurting, breathing turning heavier than it should be.

You heard some movement by your side and a painful groan escaping Wooyoung’s lips, you didn’t need to turn your head to guess San had probably tried to turn him around in order to check the wounds and damages the bullet had made.

“Scratch” He replied dryly, eyes still scanning his back and stomach to make sure, not seeing anything that could hint the bullet had actually gone through him “It’s not too big”

“Good, that means you won’t have to search for the remaining bullet pieces inside of him” You explained, quietly groaning when a wave of pain surprised you.

“Dammit Wooyoung, I wanted to play doctor and patient with you” San joked, scoffing as the ruffling that echoed in the room signified he was already starting to work on your instructions “Always wanted to be a surgeon but you know, had to be too smart and study way more than I wanted to, thank you for letting my dreams come true”

Wooyoung laughed at your side or at least tried to but ended up coughing and whining in pain, resulting in San moving faster so he could help him sooner “Fuck off San, we all know you’ve always wanted to kill a cop” Wooyoung joked in return, the guys chuckled around you, you tried to smile.

“That too but then Jongho and Miss Choi would kick my ass and that’s a fate worse than death” He replied, pausing for a moment before he spoke again “(Y/N), we don’t have time to boil water and sterilize the needles, is there anything else we can do to avoid infection?”

“Pour whatever kind of alcohol you have around on the needles, the stronger, the better” You said quietly right before San ran away.

“Right, while San is helping Wooyoung out, tell us how we can help you” Hongjoong instructed once again, noticing you were already struggling with keeping yourself conscious and knowing that if you didn’t help them out during this, they would surely lose right there on their dining table “Yunho, get some more cold water”

“On it” You whined when the cloth left your face but understood Yunho had to move in order to bring it back refreshed and colder for you.

“I’m going to be a little trickier than Wooyoung” You warned with a small smile

“Girls are always more complicated, we all knew that already (Y/N)” Wooyoung replied from beside you, making the guys smile, it was amazing how they tried to keep themselves so cool and calm when they had two bullet wounded people laying on their dining table, one of them closer to death than life.

“I could sew his mouth as well, what do you think (Y/N)?” San asked, the smile on your face was enough of a reply, he knew you shouldn’t waste energy on jokes and save them to guide the rest of the group through this homemade surgery.

“Did someone see my wounds?” You asked quietly, looking at the two guys in front of you, assuming the taller one was Mingi and the one besides him, the one that looked smaller, Hongjoong.

“The bullet came through the side of your stomach, there is no wound on your back which probably means the bullet is still inside” Hongjoong replied, serious since he understood how complicated the situation was. If the bullet had hit anything important, there was nothing nobody could do, you were doomed. Yunho returned soon, placing the wet cloth on your forehead once again, keeping your eyes uncovered in case you wanted to open them “We tried to move you as less as possible, the blood loss slowed down a while ago but you’ve still lost a bunch of it”

“Alright” You took in a deep breath, knowing what was coming, this was going to be a nightmare to go through but you would get out of it alive, you had to “You guys will need a knife, one that can cut meat well, something as similar as possible to a scalpel...Some tweezers, towels, needles and thread”

“I do not like how this sounds” Yunho muttered, making you smile a little.

“Do you think I do? It’s time to put our big kids’ pants on, it’s either this or letting me die” You explained quietly, noticing Mingi and Hongjoong were gone, probably getting everything ready..

“You’re not going to die” Yunho whispered as Hongjoong came back, carrying everything on his hands “We got this”

“We got this” You whispered, taking in a deep breath and getting ready to narrate all the things they would have to do to get the bullet out.

Once dinner was finished, both inmates, Yoongi and Jongho were brought back to their cells, inevitably getting locked up again between the four walls they’ve been sharing for more than a couple of years now.

Jongho knew something was wrong.

Yoongi seemed fidgety and specially avoided eye contact with him, normally the male wouldn’t have this kind of behaviour since he was not one to be easily intimidated or since he barely got himself involved in anyone’s business. Although, anyone that wouldn’t know Yoongi would just assume he was awkward, one of those weirdo introverts that only kept to themselves but Jongho knew him better than that and he knew he had some information that could be severely important for him.

“Spit it already Yoongi” Jongho said with a small smile, not wanting to come off as rude or impatient to him, the older male looked tense enough, pressure was surely not welcome “You’re giving me the creeps man, what’s wrong? Do you need help with anything? Is Jaehyun bothering you?”

If there was something that Yoongi admired of Jongho was how he always cared about the people around him no matter what his current situation was, for him, it was absolutely unbelievable how, despite everything he was going through right now, he wasted the time of his day observing and noticing there was something wrong with him.

“Jaehyun” Yoongi said his name quietly, praying nobody would listen to him if he didn’t want to be the next punching bag they’ve turned Jongho into “He’s planning to-”

“Jongho!” Jaehyun’s loud voice startled both males, making Yoongi shut up immediately, fear making him back track on his actions. He wanted to help Jongho, the poor guy didn’t deserve to go through all of this, even more now that he believed in those rumours that claimed he was completely innocent, that the charges he had been locked for were all a lie “Come out, we have to talk”

Jongho stayed sitting on his bed, eyes moving from Yoongi to Jaehyun and Yeosang awaiting for him outside of the cell, the door slightly opened for him to get out “I don’t think we have anything to discuss” He said seriously, without any hints of movement from his part.

“Unfortunately, we do have stuff to discuss” Yeosang walked into the cell, taking his gun out and pointing it at Jongho “So stand up and do what we say, you really don’t want to get on our nerves tonight Jongho” The inmate looked at Yoongi, his cellmate for any hint, anything that could make him guess what he was going to say before Jaehyun arrived. But Yoongi only glanced down, avoiding eye contact between them once again, hearing how the guard gently pushed the younger male out of the cell against his will.

“Good boy” Jaehyun mocked as Jongho walked past him with Yeosang behind him.

Before walking away though, Jaehyun turned around to look at Yoongi, closing the cell door to keep him locked in and avoiding any more surprises than the ones they’ve already had tonight. Yoongi met eyes with him, hands fidgeting with the thin blanket he had, his eyes carefully watching as Jaehyun lifted his hand, moving it closer to his lips and motioned as if he was closing an imaginary zipper that he had on his mouth.

Yoongi felt a shiver run down his spine as the three of them walked away, steps echoing down the deathly hall.

The possibilities of Jongho never coming back were high enough for Yoongi to believe he was never seeing his cellmate ever again and he couldn’t do anything to avoid it.

“Bite harder” Yunho adviced and you simply did as you were told, muffling the sound of your painful screams as Hongjoong used the knife on your wound to make the gap wider in order to fit the tweezers and get the bullet out of your body. Your throat hurt from how much you were screaming, your body begged to be free as Mingi held your legs and Yunho your arms down, you knew you had to let them do this but it was involuntarily to want to make the pain stop, there was nothing you could do about it. Biting into the towel, you screamed once again as Hongjoong caressed your skin with the knife hard enough to make the wound bigger, sweat rolling down your neck in waves at this point.

“Almost there (Y/N), now I just have to look for the bullet”

Hongjoong himself was starting to feel as if the entire world was spinning around him, despite being in a gang, he and the guys had never gotten themselves so badly injured and this was his first time operating somebody. Maybe you were right after all and they needed to invest some money in looking for a doctor that would take care of these situations.

“There” San said, looking over his leader’s shoulder, seeing something silver and black in the middle of so much blood and things that looked like they belonged into the decorations of a horror movie. He couldn’t believe he was seeing the inside of your body, it was like he was definitely dreaming. “Isn’t that it?”

“It is” Mingi said, looking as well before he looked away seconds after. He was not too strong when it came to this situations and he was sure he would end up passing out if he kept looking.

“Alright (Y/N), I’m going to take it out” Hongjoong instructed, you could only nod, feeling the energy in your body vanishing with each second that passed, consciousness and unconsciousness fighting to see which one kept you.

“Hurry” You whispered, alarming them.

“Uh, guys? I'm no doctor but I think she is losing too much blood” Yunho said alarmed, voice hurried as his eyes kept scanning your body full of red stains and wounds that would take so much time to heal.

“(Y/N)” Wooyoung, who had been quietly holding your hand this entire time, still too weak to move from beside you, called out your name, willing to catch your attention “(Y/N), open your eyes baby, look at me”

Not knowing what else to do to keep yourself awake, you turned your head and looked at him, opening your eyes. Your vision wasn’t clear yet but you could obviously see how he was trying his best to hide his worry from your eyes, concern evident and fear shining in his expression.

“You need to stay awake, alright?” He asked, you simply nodded, too tired to argue with him at this point “For us, for Jongho” The mention of his name brought tears to your eyes, what if you died in here tonight? What if you were never able to see him again?

“You need to tell him that-”

“You’re telling him yourself” He insisted, not letting you finish your sentence, knowing you would simply give up and try to get some rest if you passed the words full of love that you wanted to tell your now fiancee “I’m not telling him anything, not after he stole you away” His tone was playful, Wooyoung wasn’t mad but he wasn’t lying either. You knew his feelings for you, he had always made sure you knew about how much he appreciated you but your heart had been long stolen by Jongho, even after he was locked in prison for a crime you committed ”By the way, now that we’re on topic, what did you see in that mess of a guy? Because man, other than the cool car he had back in high school I think I’ve been way better than him”

You smiled at his words, knowing exactly what he was doing but wanting to play along for you, for them and for Jongho “He did have a cool car, I loved it” You said quietly, seeing his blurry smile, not noticing the tears that had started falling down your cheeks as you spoke “To be completely honest with you Wooyoung” You winced when you felt the cold tweezers brushing against your wound, the stinging alcohol making you hiss through your words “I don’t know how or when it happened, I don’t even know what it was exactly” You replied softly, holding onto Wooyoung’s hand tight, closing your eyes when the pain made you groan and tense up again. Yunho let go of one of your hands to clean the sweat on your face, soothingly running his fingers through your tangled hair “Our love just appeared out of nowhere, it was not surprising, it was not something I ever worried about like you see in those romance movies” You said quietly “We are a living bad boy-good girl cliche” A chuckle escaped his lips, his thumb tracing circles in your hand, the sounds around you becoming a little confusing, not clear “But I knew he would always have my back, we knew we were together without saying it outloud” The boys were saying something but you couldn’t hear it, your eyes were starting to close “It’s something there are not words to describe….I would just say he turned into the home I never had….He described himself as broken...As damaged….But Wooyoung….I can tell you without any doubt that he is the most caring and sweet human being I have ever met”

“(Y/N)?” Wooyoung’s voice echoed in the room when your eyes closed, a pain of wave surfing through his entire body when he tried to move “Guys?”

“Sew her wound, come on” Mingi hurried Hongjoong, eyes glancing worriedly at your face.

“And I love him…” You whispered, not even realizing you were passing out on them “I love him more than life itself….More than anybody could imagine”

With a smile on your lips your body relaxed and too tired to keep fighting you just gave in, letting unconsciousness take away all the pain and dread you were feeling.

No one knew if you would wake up again.

Hours later, right when the sun was starting to come up, Wooyoung walked into the room where Mingi had been watching you over for most of the night. Sure had dozed off a couple of times but he had been paying attention to every single movement or thing you had done during the entire night. You still hadn’t woken up yet, your eyes had been closed since they had successfully taken the bullet out of your body but you were still breathing and mumbling some incoherent stuff during your sleep.

You were still alive and that’s what counts.

“Feeling better?” Mingi asked Wooyoung, eyes on you as the other male dragged a chair close to your bed, sitting down with the two of you, hiding the small hint of pain that gave away he was still not completely recovered .

“I’m alive, that’s what counts” Wooyoung replied with a smile, reaching out to gently brush some strands of your hair out of your face.

“I guess we’re even now” Mingi said with a quiet chuckle glancing at him “I still hadn’t had the chance to thank you properly for what you did that day” The taller male mumbled quietly, you could even say he was feeling kind of shy about it “You risked everything to get a stranger out of jail, not everybody would have done that”

“Not completely a stranger, I’ve known Hongjoong since Jongho got in jail” Wooyoung confessed, actually surprising Mingi since he didn’t know this piece of information “Nobody knew this, Hongjoong said the least people knew about this, the smaller the possibility of information getting leaked was so we kept it that way” Wooyoung explained looking at him “Even though Jongho and I didn’t get along too well in high school, he always took care of somebody really special for me, he even went to jail for her and I just had to help him somehow….It’s ridiculous but I felt like I owed him something for saving her that night when I couldn’t” Flashes of what happened the night your father was shot popped in his mind as he spoke with Mingi, the male clearing his throat to snap himself out of whatever trance he had put himself into. “I just saw the opportunity when it showed up, you could have died but if I hadn’t helped you get out of there, I think we both know you would have been dead by now”

“Probably” Mingi said quietly “To be honest I consider a miracle that Jongho is still breathing, Jaehyun is really determined to follow Seongwha’s orders no matter the cost”

“You guys will get him out of there soon, Hongjoong just have to make some calls to get ready and if God is on our side….Tomorrow morning we will all be safe and sound, away from this hell hole” Wooyoung said with a small smile

“Are you scared?” Mingi asked him, not to make fun of him but because he felt kind of scared as well.

“Of course I am” Wooyoung said gently, without hesitation, fingers playing with strands of your hair “But if we don’t do it, (Y/N) will get him out of there herself and I prefer taking all the risks than letting her do it”

Mingi smiled softly, looking down at you before glancing at Wooyoung “You really love her, don’t you?”

“Haven’t I been clear enough?” Wooyoung replied with a scoff, a small smile on his lips as he looked at the male “I would go through hell and back to keep her safe….Damn, I took a bullet for her”

“You tried” Mingi said laughing, making Wooyoung laugh too. “To be honest, I think she loves you back, it’s just not the same crazy love she feels for Jongho….You’re actually quite important for her as well Wooyoung”

“I know” The male replied with a small smile, looking down at you as the back of his hand caressed your cheek “That’s why being in her life is enough, there’s nothing else I could ask for”

“Mingi?” San poked his head into the room, interrupting their conversation “We gotta get moving, there are still a couple of things we need to do before tonight”

Without hesitation Mingi stood up, patting Wooyoung’s shoulder on his way to the door “Tell her to forgive me for vanishing again when she wakes up” He said to Wooyoung, not knowing if this would be the last time they would see each other.

But Wooyoung shook his head as he looked down at his knees, not accepting the male’s proposition “You tell her yourself later tonight, you know I’m not one to pass on messages”

Mingi could only smile and roll his eyes, nodding even though he knew there was a possibility of things going wrong and them not seeing each other again. His eyes looked at you one last time and he walked out of the room knowing hell was about to break loose and not even God himself would be able to get them out of the mess they were going to make.

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moonlight-drawn-by-dawn · 3 years

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Funny Thing (From the Vault)

So I had this in my drafts for the last couple of years (truth be told it was actually the first version of Caligo Days before I changed it). I've been thinking about it lately, and maybe I'll continue it, don't know yet 😅. Let me know what you think!

"Those Summmer Niiigghtsssssss!!!"

Laughter erupted in the bedroom as the song finished on the player, the two girls singing with the handles of their hairbrushes facing one another before getting ready. Even though Grease came out a year ago, the songs were too good not to listen to all the time.

Cousins Anita and Anchal were attempting to get ready for their girls' night out; if they could stay focus and not spend the entire night playing karaoke with one another.

It would be their first time spending time with one another so late without any supervision of their parents, well, more of Anita's parents.

Just being a few weeks shy of becoming eighteen, Anita's parents thought (after much pondering), it would be alright to have this one night of freedom before entering the world of adulthood and university. She was excited to finally have time for herself, not under her parent's constant scrutiny. So the plan was that they were going roller skating till ten, a time her parents thought would be late enough that they wouldn't worry too much.

Anita and Anchal were practically sisters, only being six years apart. Being the older cousin, Anchal was supposed to be responsible for Anita, but in truth, it may as well be the other way around. When of age, Anchal decided to become a makeup artist in London rather than becoming a wife or a doctor (which were the only two options her parents believed she had). Subsequently, her parents disowned Anchal, but all was well since she became pretty successful and lived with her boyfriend in a decent apartment. Anita's parents knew it would be too cruel to separate their daughter from her only female cousin despite her life choices. It wasn't like she was going to be just like her anyway.

Anchal was the wild child who reached for her dreams; Anita was the dutiful daughter trained to sacrifice for her family's sake.

Fixing their hair, both looked at the similar outfits, bell-bottom jeans, pastel ringer tees, and denim jackets; they indeed looked like sisters, and they were inseparable.

"Oh! I wish I could have something like that happen to me. You know, a night to meet the perfect guy and have the most romantic time with him; don't you think so, Anchal?"

A snicker came before a response, "Oh, my naive dear, real life isn't anything like the movies. You're not just going to meet the love of your life one fateful night and have a magical time together. But, knowing your parents, whoever has the right price tag on you would win your soul."

A disgusted look came on the younger girl's face, but she couldn't say that her cousin was wrong. It was true to believe that her parents would eventually marry her off to the 'right guy' or whoever would help bring up their social status in their community. Even though the thought sickened her, Anita still hoped to somehow meet the one who would whisk her away from that fate her parents wanted.

As they both finished up, adding light lipgloss to their natural berry lips before deciding to head out.

"Daddy! Mum, we're leaving now" An older woman came from the living room to the front of the house, "Let me see what you're wearing"

Even with the eye rolls, they wouldn't deny her request. Finally, after a nod of approval, Anita's mother moved from the front of the door to allow them to be free.

The car ride was rowdy, music from the radio filling their ears. When they passed the roller rink, Anita raised her eyebrows, giving a pointed look to her cousin, "What are you doing? I know you know where the rink is, so why are you driving right past it?"

A flushed look crossed the elders' face, "Well...I lied about us going to the rink."

"Are you crazy?! We're going to be in so much trouble" Anita's head fell into her hands, now feeling queasy from knowing the truth. If her parents were ever to find out, they would be ridiculed so severely, not to mention that they would hold her under stricter rules.

"They're not gonna find out, only if you tell them. Besides, you need to live a little before heading off into new territory."

Even if she wanted to disagree, there was no denying the truth in Anita's eyes. All her life, she was jealous of seeing her friends going out and about, hanging at one another's houses while she was forced to stay on the same route every day. Even her brothers were able to do as they pleased without their parent's nagging.

She was like a doll in a glasshouse.

"What exactly are we gonna do then?" The elder smiled, hearing the agreement from her cousin.

"Oh, nothing too big. Just a party I was invited to by a friend..." Ears perked up in both excitement and warning. "Really? So it's a place with a bunch of strangers, who are probably going to be high and drunk, out of their minds." Eyes were rolled from both cousins, "No, it's not just any party. There are going to be...some people there. Some people who I think you would like."

"Yea, like who?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Try me," A sly smile etched on Anchal's face, knowing what would transpire in a few moments.

"Well, sources say the likes of a certain frontman of a band some may know as The Rolling Stones would be there." Brown eyes widened, realizing who her cousin meant. "No! You're lying; there's no way we could be invited to a party with the likes of Mick Jaggar."

"We haven't; I was invited, and out of the kindness of my heart and sense of duty being your older cousin to help you have the best experience of your life." A blush dusked over the younger's face as excitement ensued in her heart.

"Like I was saying, yes, the Mick Jaggar is said to make an appearance to celebrate his divorce from Bianca. There will be a slew of celebrities, from actors to singers, even sportsmen."

"How exactly were you able to get an invite?"

" Well, let's just say the world of a makeup artist is pretty close, and my friend is the makeup artist for Twiggy. She's hosting a party with her husband at the heart of the city. The apartment they're holding it in belongs to some big-shot boxer. I can't remember the name right now. All I know is we're going to have so much fun!!"

Both girls started to scream giddily at the thought of partying with some big names. The high-pitched screams ceased, though, with a thought from Anita, "What are we going to wear? I mean, I don't think this would work out in being proper clothing to a place like that."

"Oh, and now you suddenly know what's good to wear at a party?"

At the red light, Anchal pulled a bag from the backseat, clothes flooded out onto Anita's lap. "Pick something to wear."

Heart-shaped lips pursed in a straight line. Despite how close the cousins were, clothes were a different story. Anita was shorter and a bit more plump compared to Anchal's taller, sleeker frame.

She settled for a tan mini skirt and a black turtleneck pairing. The boots she was wearing would work best with this outfit.

Anchal drove off the road and parked, giving them a small place to change in the car. It didn't take long, and both were able to maneuver well with the time constraint.

When they reached the apartment, there was a mirror outside the lobby, which Anita couldn't help but stare a hole through. Although her hair looked impeccable, her body was a different story. She found that her chest was a tad too big and her legs wider than desired. Turning to the side, she saw the rising of the skirt on her behind, consciously tugging the ends down a bit.

Her parents always told Anita that she shouldn't eat as much as she did, which wasn't much, to begin with, but she wished she would listen in moments like this.

Anchal looked at her cousin through the mirror, seeing the sadness in her eyes. "Anita, stop worrying. You look fine, stunning. I'll let you keep the outfit since it looks way better on you than it ever did me." Although she knew her cousin was being kind, a smile emerged on her face, nodding and following her cousin to the elevator.

When the elevator doors opened, Anita didn't expect to see an entire apartment with glass windows covering from ceiling to floor. Rock music was playing loudly through the party and a swarm of people going in all directions. It was easy to lose sight of her cousin, but somehow she managed to say near enough to her.

"Anchal, don't leave me by myself." She tugged her cousin's shirt sleeve a bit while attempting not to fall. Eyes were on both her and her cousin, male gazes which were glazed over with something else, lust she was guessing, but not like she would know.

While Anchal was the social butterfly talking with every Tom, Dick, and Harry, Anita would only look around at the other people, holding a glass of punch in her hand.

With her eyes passing over people, her gaze stopped seeing a pair of grey-blue eyes looking straight at her. They were intriguing; she wasn't sure she ever saw a combination like that before. Next, she looked at the rest of the face; a man with thick dark brown eyebrows and a slightly crooked nose led to pink lips surrounded by a nicely trimmed mustache. Hair was reddish-brown, like the dark kindling of fire, hanging to his shoulders with slight curls to them.

Anita couldn't help but smile in the direction of the oddly handsome man, up until her cousin gave a nudge to pay attention to the people in front of her. By the time she looked back, the man was gone, like a vapor in the wind.

Mick Jaggar did make an appearance that night, gracing the entire party and talking with Anita and her cousin for a bit. As expected, Jaggar was a natural flirt knowing how to charm his way with any woman. Moreover, he seemed to be in an exceptional jovial mood despite the serious procedure he had just finished in court the day before.

Along with flirting came touching, something Anita wasn't too familiar nor fond of. Sure, it was Mick Jagger, a man who many women would crawl on nails for, but she knew better than to fall for a man who spins from woman to woman in a matter of days. Even the jolts of excitement she felt as he wrapped his hand around her waist and heading south couldn't make her change her mind.

Anchal, though, she was game. To her, it was all flirting and getting by. Probably it was to score a job, maybe to work with him in the future. She watched her younger cousin blush from the rockstar's attentions, but anything beyond that would mean being murdered by her parents. The only thing it meant was to turn his attention to her, someone who actually would appreciate and return it.

Jagger did take the bait, his attention turning to the sleeker, less awkward of the cousins, but his conquest for Anita didn't end. Now he had other plans in mind, involving himself and both girls.

Pulling both girls in his arms, he started to take them to a secluded part of the apartment. Taking a clue where this was going, the latter decided she wanted no part of this ordeal. She politely removed herself, not wanting to have this be the lasting memory of a loved musician of hers.

"Darling, don't worry, I don't bite. We'll all have a bit of fun."

She gave a sweet smile saying she was feeling a bit light-headed, "Maybe I'll grab myself a drink."

She couldn't believe she turned down Mick Jagger, a dream most women would have.

Seeing that there was a balcony and pretty empty at that, she decided that would be her abyss for the time being, at least till Anchal got a hold of herself and came back.

Dark eyes darted towards the clock hanging high inside the hotel suite; 9:15. The girls were meant to be back by 10:30, and with the route they needed to take back, there wasn't enough time. Anita just sighed. There was no use in getting panicked over it though it was already too late.

Just then, a hand touched her shoulder. She jumped slightly before turning to see who wanted her attention.

A small smile spread across her face seeing it was Mr. Handsome himself.

"Seems like it's all getting a bit too stuffy in there, eh?" Crimson cheeks rose to hear the rugged Scottish accent emit behind his pearly whites.

"Just a bit, yea. It's just very beautiful outside." For a moment, the young girl turned her head back to the scenery outside. The streets were still bustling with most parties only beginning in the clubs. Neon signs glowed, basking into the beautiful sapphire sky glittering in the countless stars dancing around.

It was rare to see something so beautiful in her home.

"Sure is. A night of triumph with so many pretty things around." Anita was surprised to see a glass of champagne in front of her.

"Oh no, I'm sorry I don't drink." Maybe it was not a common thing to hear at these parties, seeing a thick brow raised in confusion.

"Well, I think you can make an exception this one time."

Crossing her arms over her chest, Anita cocked her head to the side, "And why would I do that?"

Taking a sip from his own drink, Mr.Handsome looked away for a brief moment before staring at her again, "Well, I mean it is a party. Good to let loose. I won a big match today, so this is a celebration heading towards the world title. If you take a drink, maybe it'll be my good luck charm."

Big match? Anita hadn't a clue what he meant, until something Anchal told her crossed back in her mind.

"Y-You wouldn't happen to be the boxer who owns this building...right?" Nerves became anew in her gut, knowing this man has the power to kick her out if he realizes she wasn't invited to this party officially, or the mere fact that was was only seventeen. Almost eighteen.

Yes, she was of legal age to do just about anything she wanted, but if word went back to her parents, she would be locked up in their clutches until she turned forty-five.

He bit his lower lip (something Anita didn't realize was so sexy) as he gave a nod, "Indeed I am that boxer. Thomas Taggart."

Anita took the glass to shake his hand, it would be rude not to. "Anita Prasad, it's very nice to meet you."

"I'm sure it's not as nice as meeting Jagger, but nonetheless I'm happy to be acquainted with a beautiful lady like yourself." He kissed her hand, his eyes never leaving hers.

"Hopefully we can be more than acquainted soon."

Blindsided for the moment, Anita caught herself as she pulled her hand away from his grasp, "Well, I can't make any promises..."

Her eyes darted back into the party, hoping she would find her cousin in the midst of all the bodies.

Thomas caught note of what the young girl was planning, choosing instead to use his broad shoulders and tall height to his advantage to block her.

"Tell me, how did such a pretty little bird like yourself end up in this rowdy place?"

Brown eyes looked back up to the boxer, do her best to keep up appearances.

"Well, it was my cousin who brought me here. We had different plans, but she couldn't pass up the opportunity to meet and connect with everyone here. She was invited, of course, by someone else I mean, I don't think you would know her she's a makeup artist and you don't seem to need makeup...not that it would be bad if you did, but I doubt any boxer really needs makeup seeing that it'll easily come off when you guys aim for the face..."

Anita allowed her to ramble to end on an awkward note, knowing this was the last thing a guy like him wanted to endure.

But he was still there, and instead of looking bored, there was a smile on his face giving a laugh to her nervous habit.

"No, these parties are usually full of people who were invited by other random folks. There's nothing wrong with that. And it's nice you think I'm cute enough without makeup. I was getting worried without my mascara you would just pass me by."

He was quite witty, she couldn't deny it.

"How about we cheers to that then? A winning night and the joy of not needing makeup." Giving in, Anita downed the drink in one go.

It was much lighter than she expected.

"Easy there, tiger. Can't have you going off after your first drink, can we?"

The young girl nodded, although she was confused by the fast effect the drink was taking on her. Was she supposed to start feeling light-headed this fast?

Instead of giving that away, Anita stood straight, her hand leaning on the balcony, "I'm fine. I promise."

She watched blue-gray eyes look at her body from toe to head. She swallowed air harshly, knowing when he saw all her flaws, he was going to head off to some gorgeous model with legs for days.

But when his eyes met with her, there was nothing short of admiration.

"Why don't we head someplace a bit quieter? I mean the party is fun and all, but sometimes it's nice to have a conversation without a hundred people behind your back."

She didn't want to go somewhere alone with Thomas. After all, he was still a stranger.

But there wasn't a choice. He took her hand, gently, leading her around the crowded room. Her body started to follow without resistance.

Drinks were passed around, and soon Anita had down two more champagnes before reaching Thomas' hiding place.

Anita tried her best to identify what was around her, but the room was blurry. Her head was spinning.

"So, tell me a bit about yourself."

"Hmm?" All her focus went into her answer, ignoring the red flags screaming in her face.

"Well, there's not too much to tell. I'm a student, planning to do teaching. I don't get out too much, so this was a treat. But enough about me, I want to hear more about the great boxer!"

She giggles falling back onto the soft surface. Her back arched, stretching on the light material under her. Maybe it was silk? There was no way for her to think properly about it at the moment, all she knew was it was nice and made her want to sleep.

"It's a bit hot in here, isn't it?" Her hand went to fan her face. Anita swore she was cold moments before.

"How about we get you more comfortable then?"

The feeling of her boots sliding off effortlessly, or the unzipping of her skirt didn't alarm the poor girl.

She smiled for a brief moment, before feeling hands entering into her blouse.

"What are you doing?" Her voice didn't hold concern, just naive curiosity from his actions.

"Don't worry, dear. Everything will be just fine. I"m just getting you more comfortable, as...."

She didn't hear the rest of Thomas's words.

She was gone, her mind oblivious to the horrendous truth of what was happening.

Her body didn't forget, and it would never forget the feeling of violation hidden in slow, gentle moves. It would never forget the manipulation he held over the young girl.

But that couldn't stop him.

Nothing could stop Thomas Taggart from getting what he wants.

#original character #original story #original writing #70s #from the vault #just something i wrote #lmk what you think #short story i guess

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angryhausfrau-writes · 3 years

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Still Living With Your Ghost

Hawkeye shows up on BJ's front porch one year, two months, three days, and seven hours after the Korean war ends. And he looks - Jesus, he looks rough. Tired and pale and wearing army boots and his blue Hawaiian shirt. He looks like a ghost.

BJ can't not invite him in, even though it's the middle of the night and Hawkeye can't really seem to explain what he's doing in California beyond something about wanting to see palm trees. So BJ gets him tucked into bed in his and Peg's unused guest room – still mostly empty even though the house has been finished for a while now. But it doesn't appear to matter much to Hawkeye, he passes out pretty much the minute his head hits the pillow.

BJ wakes up the next morning, sure that all of this had been a particularly vivid dream. But there Hawkeye sits, in BJ's living room, flipping and flipping and flipping through the television channels at whatever ungodly hour Erin has decided is morning.

BJ rubs the sleep out of his eyes. “Morning, Hawk. Sleep well?”

“Morning, BJ.” Hawkeye springs up from the sofa, like he used to spring out of his army cot. Like he's just been sitting there, waiting for BJ to wake up so he can drag him into whatever mischief he's dreamed up.

But this isn't Korea. BJ doesn't play those kind of pranks anymore.

And it doesn't look like Hawkeye is going to answer BJ's question. So BJ just works on getting the coffee percolating and making sure Erin doesn't throw cream of wheat all over the kitchen.

Peg drifts out of their bedroom a little later, takes a piece of toast from the table, kisses BJ on the cheek, collects Erin out of her high chair, and breezes out the door. Off to meet with a client, probably. Which means that BJ's stuck staring at a fidgeting Hawkeye from across the table, silence stretching awkward and molasses thick between them.

“So, uh, how you been, Hawk?” BJ thumbs at a chip in the Formica of the table top.

“Oh, you know. Busy. Doctoring.” Hawkeye is looking wildly around the kitchen and he hasn't touched any of the food on his plate. “Looks like you've really been living the high life here, Beej. Look at this place! Nice, real nice, BJ. You're a lucky guy.”

“Yeah, yeah I sure am.”

“And you're still a surgeon? Working at a hospital and everything?” Hawkeye's now looking intently at a point just slightly to the left of BJ's eyes, expression fixed in something that could be described as a smile, maybe.

“Yep. Nothing as exciting as Korea, though. I took out a gallstone two days ago, and that's been the highlight of my week.”

Hawkeye laughs, too loud and too sharp. And he's back to looking wildly around the kitchen, peering into the living room, rocking sideways in his chair far enough to almost overbalance. “That's nice. Not exciting is nice. Boring. Quiet.”

“Yep.”

Hawkeye is now tearing his paper napkin to little shreds that he's sprinkling over his eggs like snow.

“Look, Hawk. Not that it's not great to see you and all. But what are you doing here?”

Hawkeye goes back to staring at the point just slightly to the side of BJ's face. “Oh, you know. Thought I'd drop in on my good buddy. And see some sun, some sandy beaches – you're a little lacking on both fronts here, Beej. I confess myself disappointed. This isn't the California all those travel brochures promised me. Swimsuits and suntans. Palm trees.” Hawkeye waves his arms wide, gaze rocketing around the kitchen. “Where are they, BJ? Where are the palm trees?”

BJ laughs. “You're a little far north for that kind of thing. We mostly have rain and fog.”

Hawkeye nods. Grimaces. “I hate the rain. We spent years and years and years in the rain. Or the snow. So many years.” Hawkeye's staring again. “You know how cold it gets in northern Maine? I want. I wanted some sun, you know? A change of scenery.”

“Well, since you're in California already, you could drive south, you know. It's a ways, but you could go find a beach and some palm trees, like you said.”

Privately, BJ thinks a little sun would do Hawkeye a world of good. He's looking even paler than usual. Wan. Tired. Like he hasn't been sleeping.

“Yeah? You think so?” And Hawkeye looks up at BJ with such hope in his eyes. It's blinding. Terrifying.

So that's how BJ finds himself in the family station wagon with Hawkeye lounging practically sideways on the front seat, staring out the rainy window at San Francisco as they head south on Route 5 towards warmer climes.

“You know, I've never been to San Francisco,” Hawkeye says conversationally. They're driving through down town, and the tall edifices bear down on them like giants. Hawkeye has to keep his neck craned up, up, up to get even a glimpse of the gunmetal sky. “I've been to San Diego. Spent a whole weekend there when I was in med school. But I never quite made it to San Francisco, somehow. Surprising, I know...” Hawkeye trails off with a vague gesture.

“It's a nice city,” BJ says, inanely. But he's not quite sure what's happening here. And small talk is about all that's left to him.

Hawkeye smiles, sharp as a knife. And there's something lurking there behind his eyes that BJ can't identify. “I'm sure it is.”

They drive in silence for a while.

Suddenly, Hawkeye's head snaps down and to a street that runs towards the bay. “What's down there, Beej?” He asks it almost desperately.

“Uh, the docks I think.”

Hawkeye nods. Tips his head towards the ocean like he's listening to something far away. His eyes skitter over the dashboard desperate and wild.

“Lotta kids shipped out of those docks the last two wars,” Hawkeye says, apropos of nothing that BJ can understand. “Lotta kids who never got to come back home.”

“Uh, yeah. Though I guess they were hard up enough for doctors that they sent me over on a plane instead.”

Hawkeye nods distractedly, knee jostling against the passenger door. He's staring out the window again.

“Hey, Beej, pull over will ya? I really need a drink.” He gestures at a bar that BJ probably wouldn't have even noticed if Hawkeye hadn't pointed it out. BJ pulls over. He could use a drink himself. He'd forgotten how – how strange and alluring and difficult Hawkeye could be.

The bar is dead this time of day. Empty except for a few older men who look like they've probably been sitting on those same bar stools for the past decade or so.

Sitting at a shadowed corner table with a bottle of bottom shelf gin and BJ can almost believe he's back in the Swamp. That no time at all has passed since Korea. Hawkeye is certainly drinking like that's true. It's almost nice, the nostalgia that's carried on gin fumes.

And Hawkeye has calmed down a little as he sits there, no longer looking like he's going to crawl out of his skin. In fact, he looks almost wistful as BJ chatters on about Peg and Erin and his life in Mill Valley. Though what part of all that it is he longs for, BJ doesn't know. He'd never expressed much interest in marriage or kids before. But maybe he's finally looking to settle down.

BJ muses on the impossibility of a settled Hawkeye while the real one heads off to the bathroom. The bar has filled up in the intervening hours and it's hard for BJ to keep track of his skinny frame and dark hair, even as tall as he is. Though Hawkeye's usual slouch has gotten even more pronounced than it was in Korea and that doesn't help matters any.

BJ wonders what exactly happened to him to change him so much. To wear Hawkeye down like he's been.

But before he can think too long on it – before he can become maudlin – Hawkeye's back at their table and putting a wad of crumpled bills down on the scarred surface. Clearly a sign that he's ready to leave.

They troop a little unsteadily out to the car.

“So, how'd you find our fair city?” BJ asks as they pull out into rush hour traffic. The had really slipped away from him in the warm dark of the bar. He'd had no idea it was so late.

“Well, I can now say I've sampled all of the bountiful pleasures that San Francisco has to offer.” Hawkeye grins bright and sharp even through the alcohol. “So what's say we blow this joint and go find some nice sandy beach somewhere? Preferably a nude one.”

BJ grins at him and turns onto the highway.

They drive past rocky coastlines and pine covered mountains. BJ thinks Hawkeye falls asleep about an hour or so in, his forehead pressed against the cool glass of the window, eyes closed and face marginally more peaceful. But it's hard to tell.

At some point, though, Hawkeye jerks upright, looking around frantically, as if trying to figure out where he is.

Where they are is the vast empty farmland west of Mendota. Hawkeye spends a few miles staring out at the fields as they blur past the window. BJ leaves him to it.

In all honesty, BJ is starting to wonder if this was the best idea. Hawkeye seems scattered and distracted and manic like he was at the end of the war. Like he'd been after the bus and before he'd been committed.

Maybe BJ should have kept him in San Francisco. Called Sidney. Gotten Hawkeye some help instead of driving hundreds of miles to some unknown destination for some unknown agenda.

But they've already come this far. It would be dumb to turn around now.

“Did you know,” Hawkeye says in a voice that can barely be heard above the radio and the incessant thrum of the tires on asphalt. He clears his throat and tries again. “Did you know that during the Great Depression they used to gather all the unsold fruit and pour gasoline on it so that the starving people fleeing the Dust Bowl couldn't eat it?”

Hawkeye's staring intently at the side of BJ's face, more than wide awake. And maybe BJ spoke too soon.

“Uh, no. I had no idea.”

Hawkeye goes back to looking out the window. “I always thought that would be a terrible way to go,” he whispers so quietly, BJ isn't even sure he's talking to him.

A few miles later, they hit a town big enough to have a diner. Hawkeye's still quiet and staring, and it's past seven anyway. They may as well stop and get some dinner. Hawk hasn't really eaten anything but a handful of pretzels all day.

They both order cups of coffee and BJ watches Hawkeye add something out of a hip flask into his mug. Hawkeye obviously catches BJ looking and waggles the flask in his direction, offering. BJ holds out his own cup. This is feeling... This is feeling a little too close to Korea, all of a sudden, even though they're smack dab in the middle of California. And the liquor burns harsh and familiar down BJ's throat.

He coughs. “You make this yourself, Hawk?”

Hawkeye grins. “A guy's gotta have a hobby. And most of mine dried up after the war.”

BJ assumes he's referring to chasing nurses. He sure spent enough time at it – even if he was never all that successful.

Before BJ can get too far into asking Hawkeye about his triumphs or trials in the pursuit of the fairer sex – always sure to elicit an amusing (or steamy) anecdote – the waitress returns to take their order.

Hawkeye gets a hamburger and french fries. BJ orders a chicken sandwich and Hawkeye flinches so he orders a hamburger instead. And when the food gets there, Hawkeye devours his meal ravenously while BJ chats about Erin's recent trials with attending daycare since Peg is out of the house some days for her real estate career.

Hawkeye's obviously not one for conversation tonight, so BJ just keeps talking about his wife and his life and his beautiful, perfect, wonderful daughter. And Hawkeye sits in the booth, leg jittering against the tabletop and he tears his napkin into shreds and lets them snow down onto his empty plate. And when the waitress stops by again to top up their coffees, Hawkeye drinks about half the cup all in one go and then refills it with moonshine.

He's so alike and unlike the Hawkeye from Korea. The Hawkeye BJ knows more intimately than pretty much anyone other than his wife. And BJ can catch glimpses of that man in Hawkeye's gestures or his terrible honking laugh. But in a lot of ways he's a complete stranger. And it's difficult to sit there in the diner – in the real world – with this man that's half myth and half ghost and from a part of BJ's life that he'd honestly rather forget.

It's almost a relief to settle up and get back in the car. Hawkeye isn't asleep, BJ doesn't think. But he is quiet and still and content to just stare out the window into the empty dark.

In the car, in the dark, nothing is real. It's not like the harsh light of the diner where he can see Hawkeye. Here, BJ can pretend that nothing about what's happening is strange. He can pretend everything is normal.

But eventually it gets late enough that he's got to stop driving or he's going to fall asleep at the wheel and run them both into a ditch. BJ pulls into the first motel he comes across. And it's shabby and rundown, but a far sight better than a tent in Korea, which is where he half expects to collapse tonight, stuck as he is between past and present, waking and dreaming.

The only problem is that there's only the one bed.

BJ offers to sleep on the floor. But Hawkeye says he's being stupid and that it's not like they haven't slept together before. Which, that's stretching the truth a little. But BJ doesn't really want to sleep on the floor.

So that's how he finds himself laying in bed with Hawkeye - who's obviously still awake, BJ can see the gleam of his eyes in the dark – and feeling intensely awkward about it. It's a double bed, but they're both tall. BJ could probably fill up the bed all on his own. It's difficult to keep from touching Hawkeye - especially because if this were him and Peg, BJ would be spooning his wife, curling around her back, holding her in his arms. And BJ hasn't really slept with anyone other than her for a long time. Which is why he has to fight himself not to do the same with Hawkeye. A Hawkeye who's whispering a soft goodnight into the darkness between them.

BJ turns to face away from him and tries to go to sleep.

He wakes up to Hawkeye sitting bolt upright in bed, tears streaming down his face, absolutely dead silent as he cries.

BJ reaches a tentative hand out, lays it whisper light on Hawkeye's shoulder. “You ok, Hawk?”

Hawkeye turns his unseeing eyes to BJ, tear tracks gleaming in the moonlight filtering through the motel curtains. Blinks a few times, as if he's surprised to find BJ really there. Reaches out with a trembling hand to brush the tips of his fingers butterfly gentle against BJ's cheek.

“Beej?”

“Yeah, Hawk. I'm here.”

Hawkeye crumples forward into BJ's chest. And BJ holds him in his arms. Feels the silent sobs that wrack his skinny back.

“I dreamed that this was all a dream,” Hawkeye whispers into the join of BJ's neck. “That I'd lost you and I couldn't find you – no matter how much I looked and looked and looked.”

BJ gathers Hawkeye closer. “I'm right here, Hawkeye. And I'm not going anywhere.”

Hawkeye pulls away from BJ's arms. Looks up at him – and he looks, he looks sad and understanding and gentle. “Everyone leaves sometime, Beej. I won't hold it against you.”

And then Hawkeye's getting out of bed to go take a shower.

BJ feels strangely bereft without Hawkeye in his arms, so he busies himself getting ready to leave. It's still disgustingly early – the eastern sky just barely starting to turn pink – but it's not far to Los Angeles now. And BJ doesn't really want to spend any more time in this dingy, claustrophobic hotel room than he has to.

When they descend into Santa Monica, Hawkeye perks up from where he'd been sitting listless in the passenger seat. He practically has his head sticking out the window like Waggles does, staring out at the silvery gleam of sunlight on the ocean. Practically vibrating in his seat at the knowledge that they're getting close to the sandy beaches his heart desires.

BJ exits off of Route 5 and takes them through the wide boulevards and down to the beach.

Hawkeye grabs his arm on the steering wheel. “Look, Beej! Palm trees!”

“Yeah, Hawk. Just as advertised.” BJ smiles at Hawkeye fondly. His excitement is infectious. Buoying.

So different from his mood just a few hours earlier.

When they get to the actual beach, BJ has barely parked the car before Hawkeye's flinging himself out of it and down onto the sand. A cacophony of seagulls spirals into the sky, squawking at being disturbed by a six-foot plus lunatic sprinting towards the water.

BJ watches, amused and perplexed as Hawkeye starts throwing his clothes off with wild abandon, stripping until he's down to his skivvies, barely halting his headlong scramble towards the water. And he switches to genuine incredulity when the now mostly naked Hawkeye flings himself into the surf, struggling out past the breakers, until he's genuinely swimming in the marginally calmer water of the Pacific Ocean.

“Jesus Christ, Hawk,” BJ calls out to him from the beach. “Come back up here, you loon. You're going to get hypothermia.”

Hawkeye grins back at BJ as he floats serenely on his back, waves bobbing him gently up and down, hiding and revealing him from BJ's view. “Good thing I know a doctor then, huh Beej?”

But Hawkeye does eventually emerge from the water, shaking himself kind of dry – and splashing freezing water all over BJ's shirt. He's smiling big and genuine, and BJ thinks this whole trip was worth it just for this moment. Just to see Hawkeye look happy and unburdened and mischievous like he used to look. Like he looks in all of BJ's best memories of Korea.

BJ thinks he could stand to stick around Santa Monica a while longer. So they get Hawkeye dried off and bundled up in dry clothes and they head for a little cafe just off the beach so they can eat breakfast. By which BJ means he eats breakfast and Hawkeye drinks five cups of coffee and steals one piece of BJ's toast. But it's an improvement on yesterday morning.

And then they bum around the waterfront, stopping in at the little tourist traps, showing each other dumb knickknacks. Hawkeye discovers an especially hideous Hawaiian shirt at one of the stores - and almost talks BJ into buying it before common sense (and the thought of Peg's reaction) prevail. Hawkeye pouts, but grudgingly admits that a shirt covered in scantily clad hula girls might not be the best thing to bring home to one's wife. Though it's not like he knows what wives do or don't like, Beej, honestly. And BJ supposes that's true enough.

Eventually, it gets to be late enough in the day that other, far more sane people start gathering on the beach to swim or sunbathe or whatever. And Hawkeye takes this as his cue to drag BJ back to the sun and sand and palm trees he's so obsessed with. BJ goes willingly enough, truth be told – Hawkeye's led him far more terrible places than the Santa Monica public beach.

And it's nice to laze around in the sunshine with Hawkeye reading next to him, shaded by the parasol he'd brought along in his ratty army duffel. Honestly, BJ's heartened by the fact that Hawkeye planned this trip out well enough to bring things like swim trunks and sun block and a truly terrible pair of Groucho glasses instead of sunglasses. It makes all of this feel more like a prank and less like Hawkeye's unraveling again.

It makes BJ almost happy to remember all the trouble they used to get up to. Makes him able to tell stories back and forth with Hawkeye, able to quibble about the details when one of them insists the other had been responsible for whatever part of their prank had gone wrong. Hell, they even reminisce about Charles, and that's someone BJ had been more than happy to never think about again.

Anyway, it's all really nice. A nice vacation from the real world.

But that's all it is. All it can ever be. Because he's got a wife and a kid and a life waiting back for him in San Francisco. And Hawkeye's probably got a half dozen girls waiting by the phone for him to call.

“C'mon, Hawk.” BJ claps his hands brusquely and stands. “We should probably start heading home if we want to get in by dinner time.”

Hawkeye looks up at him from behind those stupid, stupid glasses. And it's hard to tell, but he might just look as conflicted about leaving as BJ feels.

“Yeah, ok, Beej.” Hawkeye stands and brushes sand off of his trunks. Starts putting away his beach towel and umbrella. Knocks against BJ's shoulder, a friendly little nudge. “This sure was fun while it lasted, though. Kinda wish we could've stayed here forever.”

BJ nudges him back. Gets him moving in the direction of the car. “You can always come back again.”

Hawkeye smiles sadly. “It wouldn't be the same.”

And then they pile into the car to head back to San Francisco. Hawkeye stares out the window again, curled up against the passenger door. Obviously not feeling like talking any more. So BJ just concentrates on navigating the way home.

The drive goes much faster this time, probably because they don't stop anywhere. And because BJ's a little lost in thought. Seeing Hawkeye again has brought up a lot of memories he'd done his best to bury when he went home to Peg and Erin and real life. The station wagon's bench seats feel full of ghosts.

None more haunting than Hawkeye Pierce – famed in song and story – a half buried memory of the worst parts of BJ's life. And currently curled up in the front seat of BJ's car like the remnant of a terrible, wonderful dream. So he's got a lot to think about.

It's no wonder BJ startles when Hawkeye brings a gentle hand to his shoulder. They're home. And they've apparently been sitting in the driveway for a while if Hawkeye's teasing, “Nice of you to join us, Beej,” is any indication.

“Sorry, Hawk. Lost in thought.”

“Well, don't hurt yourself.” Hawkeye smiles bright and warm. Like the sun.

And then they're both turning sideways to face one another. Hawkeye's hand is still on BJ's shoulder, light but so, so heavy.

And then Hawkeye kisses him. Sweet and chaste and far too brief.

And BJ wants to cry at how right it feels. How much of a culmination of their entire tumultuous friendship it feels.

At how much it feels like goodbye.

“C'mon, Beej. Let's get you home.”

Hawkeye claps BJ with the hand on his shoulder, brusque and friendly. And Peg's standing on the front porch, waiting for him. And Hawkeye's got a Greyhound ticket back to Maine in his pocket.

They leave the car and head into the house.

#mash #hunnihawk #this isn't particularly happy #hawkeye has some serious issues #and bj's repressed #sort of unrequited feelings #kinda a road trip fic if you squint

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utterlyinevitable · 3 years

Text

Time Bomb

III.

I. | II.

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Rebecca Lao) Word Count: 3.2k Warning: angst, trauma, panic attack Summary: OHSY Chapter 13 rewrite with the trauma we should have had.

A/N: I was going to have this be one long fic but it read just as jumpy as the canon chapter so imma split it up into 3-4 parts. I’ve been sitting on this for weeks and not really happy with it but yolo it’s as good as it’s gonna get! Enjoy 💗

________________________________________

III.

Following an all-too-short lunch with Jackie, Becca reposed in the residents lounge for the rest of the day, alone, save for the somewhat reassuring chime of silence which was suspended throughout the room, and a riveting new journal that she held in her hands as she waited on labs to come back for her only patient, Farley.

Esme stepped inside the newly renovated room, closing the thick wooden door behind her and spinning a pen anxiously between her fingers. The atmosphere changed immediately - whatever calmness Becca found in this modern solitude vanished with her enigma of an intern’s presence. She moved to sit across from Becca without saying a word.

The two of them sat there in complete silence for a bit. The only sound was the rattling of the central heating from behind the ceiling panels and the taps of the pen Esme was still spinning between her hands.

Becca folded the article on her lap. She couldn’t focus on it anyway.

“Esme? Everything okay?”

It was impossible to miss the sullen look on Esme’s face - as if the weight of the world was resting on her shoulders and crushing her completely. She looked at Becca for a long moment, never meeting her eyes. Esme’s stare scanned the resident before her; the one resident responsible for her mentorship, the one she’s supposed to trust, the one who’s known to have faced great ethical dilemmas. All Esme could see was the same struggle staring back at her - only worse.

“Not really,” she huffs, crumpling back into the couch cushion. “It's Levi. His situation... it's really getting to me.” She took a pause to lick her dry lips. Then dove into the guilt eating away at her, “He's in so much pain every minute of every day. He's miserable, Becca. His whole life is agony, and he can't even tell anyone. I put my stethoscope to his chest a few days ago, and he teared up.”

Becca could tell Esme was trying not to cry, hiding her emotions behind the brick wall her angry tone provided. Trying to be strong. For whom had yet to be determined.

“Could you live like that?”

“Honestly…” Becca sighed as she bit her cheek, “I don't know.”

The last two weeks had Becca contemplating her own existence more than ever - a unwarranted side effect of escaping death. And in all those restless hours she hadn’t settled on a solid statement. She hadn’t found the right words to completely encompass and make sense of the endless agony tearing her apart.

She wished she could have switched places with Danny and Bobby; it was her fault they got caught in the crossfire. But Becca was selfish. So selfish for not wanting to die.

Rebecca Carolina Lao did not want to die. She could not die.

She’d worked hard her entire life - devoted her youth to her studies and cultivating the best resume she could. Her life had only just begun. She finally had the career of her dreams and…

What else is there to live for?

Those around her. Her friends. Her family miles away.

She couldn’t leave them. What would her mom be like if she had died without saying goodbye? She was strong but no one is strong enough to bury their child. Would she have her buried, or cremated and kept close to her heart? How would her roommates cope with the loss of another friend? How would they cope with taking on her share of the bills on top of inevitably losing their jobs in a few months? Who would pack up all her stuff and where would it all go?

Becca didn’t know any of these answers because she wasn’t in that position.

Through all of her pain, she fought like hell to stay.

As she sat in front of Esme, Becca’s mind briefly wandered to what it would be like to be in Levi’s position. If she couldn’t hold anyone’s hand anymore, or hold a pen or a book without pain… or kiss Ethan…

Would she be strong enough to live without everything she holds dear?

No.

She could not imagine her life ending any time soon.

“So what do I do for him, Becca? How do I help?”

The pen stopped rotating and the heating system lulled to a dull hum.

“You try... To respect his wishes,” she said with a resolute nod. “That could mean finding new experimental treatments, or it could mean accepting the fact that he doesn't want any more surgeries, even if you think they might help. He doesn't have any good choices right now. You have to make sure he knows you care about him first and foremost.”

The damaged girls looked at one another. The words settled and the air shifted.

Esme balled her fists against the loose fabric of her scrubs at her thighs. “Yeah... that makes sense.”

“Levi's been through a lot, and it makes sense that he doesn't want to get his hopes up for no reason. But it's your job to try to get him well.”

“I just wish I believed we could actually do that. Fix him.” Esme sniffled and wiped her eyes on her sleeve, straightening up resolutely.

Becca’s eyes softened. She remembered how it felt with her first terminal patients. That absolute helplessness didn’t compare - not any more.

The thing about being terminal - the silver lining - is foresight. People with incurable conditions have time to come to terms with dying. They have time to make amends. They have time to live the rest of their days on their terms. They have time to say goodbye.

Unlike Danny and Bobby.

Esme rose to her feet, wild determination in her eyes. “Levi's an amazing guy. I'm gonna help him... somehow.”

“He is,” a small smile pricked the corners of Becca’s lips. “I'm glad he has you to look after him.”

“Thanks, Becca. This really helped.” The standoffish intern smiled back and headed off towards her mission.

And once again Becca was left alone in eerie silence.

***

Stir crazy and mind bouncing too much for the walls of the small lounge to handle, Becca decided to make laps around the hospital. She spent the rest of her afternoon reacquainting herself with the wards and spending time comforting premature babies in the NICU.

Babies.

How can you be sad around babies? So full of life and promise...

Becca was walking past the E.R. on her way to check on Farley when she ran into Ethan.

His face lit up when he saw her; she looked better. She had pulled her hair back into a neater bun and there was a ghost of a smile present among her features. Looking up at him there seemed to be a glow about her, glowing in the faint way that only someone with a new lease on life could. Maybe Ethan was wrong. Maybe she did need to come back to work and face her fears head on. Maybe what was best for her was the distraction and promise of doing good. For once he hoped beyond all hope that his assessment would be proven wrong.

The sweet coloring in his eyes sparkled and the small cracks of crow's feet peeping at the corners sent a joyful warmth throughout Becca’s body. Just the sight of him gave her enough purchase to let out a large gust of air and with it most of her reserved tension.

Ethan.

He was here and she was safe.

For a fraction of a moment they both forgot they were still in the hospital.

“I've just been with your landlord,” he said slightly softer than his normal cadence, giving them both reason to stand closer in the busy lobby.

“How is he?” Becca shoved her hands deep into the pockets of her coat, keeping herself from reaching out to him in such a public place.

Their eyes never strayed from one another. The sparkle in his azure’s matched the glow of her heart as she gazed at him.

“A pain in the ass.” The sides of Ethan’s mouth perked upwards just a hair. “Medically, however, I'm waiting to see if any bacteria shows up in his cultures. If he has meningitis, we'll need to-”

Suddenly, the ambulance bay doors burst open cutting him off. Their heads whipped towards the door where an EMT was wheeling a new patient in.

With skilled precision the EMT rattled off. “I have a patient here. Unconscious female, 50's.”

Becca and Ethan took a brief look around the E.R., but the few doctors on duty were busy with other urgent cases.

“We'll take her,” he says just as Becca’s feet carried her to the gurney in an adrenaline-fueled rush.

Unconscious woman. Shallow breaths.

Becca’s muscle memory took over well before her brain could catch up, gently slapping the nameless woman’s deathly pale cheek. Everything happened so fast. Becca’s vision was filtered by a vignette secluding her from the world. The only thing pulling attention at the center was the woman before her. This patient barely breathing and clinging to dear life. This patient with frayed graying hair, soft creases and a pale white face with a structure she’s seen before.

This woman’s not going to die.

Becca wouldn’t have it. On the third slap to her boney cheek the darkened edges faded and Becca could finally see the bigger picture.

The moment she made contact, it clicked.

Becca’s jaw dropped as she registered the features glaring back at her.

“Oh my god…” she whispered to herself.

This can’t be.

Nervously looking over her shoulder Becca called, “Ethan,”

He raised his brows, ready to jump in and help at her command.

Before he could take a step forward Becca quickly elaborated, “It's your mom…”

Time kept spinning and every second this patient came closer to losing life.

For the first time in his career Ethan was rooted to the spot.

Of course this would be how they meet after 25 years. The universe had been playing a sick and morbid joke on him lately - Dolores, Naveen, Becca, and now the woman who was dead to him long ago.

“Ma'am?” Becca tapped her again, trying to jostle her awake.

Becca’s eyes further assessed the woman’s state. Blue lips and fingertips. Memories jolted through her on the backs of the numbing adrenaline of her first ever case with Ethan -

She’s losing life.

Just like Danny and Bobby and...

Becca pushed the constricting feeling of paralyzation aside. This woman cannot die on her watch. Another life will not be taken from her. Regardless of who they are.

Ethan watched Becca move frantically around that woman. The reassuring color she finally found had drained from her face completely. Without having to ask he knew how Becca was feeling, because he felt it too.

He didn’t want to help this patient. He wanted to turn on his heels and let the powers that be take control. To let whatever power that took her away from them all those years ago to come and take her away now. He couldn’t look at her. The nerve of that woman. But Ethan Ramsey took an Oath and there was a patient who needed his expert care.

With herculean effort Ethan shook himself out of his trance and leapt into action a split second later.

“How's her breathing? Listen to her chest,” he instructed.

“Shallow. Pupils are small and unresponsive…” Becca responds, moving to check their patient’s arms for any telling signs.

And she finds one.

Track marks.

She bit back the gasp threatening to call Ethan’s attention.

Ethan…

As much as Becca wanted to protect him from this - from the deep seeded, constant pain his mother inflicts - her job came first. Becca was a doctor and her attending needed to know the diagnosis.

“It looks like an opioid overdose. We need to wake her up.”

She didn’t take her eyes off of his mother, willing her awake with every fibre of her fragile being. Calling up to that invisible force that spared her life only weeks ago for just one more favor. Just one more delay to the inevitable. She greedily needed her to survive. Needed his mother to open her eyes - there was no other option.

Death would not come today.

“Louise?” Ethan finally acknowledged the woman. His voice bellowing, pricking goosebumps on Becca’s skin. “Dammit!”

Ethan brushed past Becca and ground his knuckles into his mother’s sternum.

“Hnnng…” Louise whined; her eyes opened for a moment and Becca caught the same baby blues blankly staring at her then rolled back in her head.

No.

Doe eyes wide and full of diluted terror Becca announced, “I'll get the naloxone.”

She hurried to find a bottle of the drug in a cabinet by the nurses station, quickly preparing an injection in her unfaltering hands as she moved back towards the gurney in ten steps. Then without an ounce of hesitation, stabbed the needle into Louise’s shoulder. Ethan’s mother drew a deep, shuddering breath, eyes fluttering as she slowly pulled out of her unconscious state.

Becca’s breath caught up with her.

She’s alive.

That was all the assurance Ethan needed.

“Alright, she'll make it.” Ethan pulled his rubber gloves off and stepped away from the gurney and where Becca still rooted beside it.

“Nurse? Keep an eye on her. We're done here.”

Becca wasn't done. She was sinking in the feelings surrounding her. She felt like she was drowning in the onslaught of waves overtaking her - waning adrenaline, fear, terror, inadequacy, remembrance. Death looked her in the face again today. She evaded him once more.

Becca 3, Death 2.

What quarter were they in? When will this duel finish?

She doesn’t know. It’s an inevitable prolonging. A battle she won’t win for long.

When is the end?

She’s consciously terrified of losing.

Becca’s rooted in place as the waves began rolling towards her. Everyone moves around her in fluid sweeps. She sees nothing and everything all at once. Her line of sight coated in blanched static.

When the nurse took over and shook her out of her trance, Becca noticed Ethan promptly striding from the room without another word. This wasn’t the Ethan she knew; he would never leave a patient this soon. And this wasn’t a patient… it’s his mother… who nearly died if it wasn’t for him…

Becca swallowed her bile of trauma and chased after him through the storm;

“Ethan!”

The haunting she felt in her core didn’t matter. The shadow taking tallies over her shoulder didn’t matter. None of that mattered. She had to push past it all and be strong for him now.

He was elusive. She didn’t even hear his footsteps stomping through the hall and rattling through her, not even the vibrations ricocheting off the steel foundations. His long legs couldn’t have taken him too far. Scanning the corridor, Becca noticed the door to the on-call room a second away from shutting.

Ethan.

She finds Ethan hunched over a cot in the empty on call room. The room is dark - only one clinical light is glowing in the far corner of the cramped room. His hands balled into tight fists, the whites of his knuckles reflecting the little light away from his crumpled face.

She gingerly sat down beside him and ran a gentle hand over his back.

“Ethan?” Becca whispered a few moments later “Are you alright?”

Warm air flowed indignantly between them.

“She does not get to do this to me.” He huffed in his deep voice laden with the sentiment of a broken child. ”She does not get to make me feel bad for her.”

“I’m sorry.” Becca couldn’t say anything louder than a whisper. Her own despair still gripped into her like a vice.

“Don't be.” Ethan shrugged bitterly, though not enough for her to let up on her calming caresses. “This has nothing to do with me. That woman isn't anyone I know.”

She rested her head against his shoulder. They let silence hang and their minds clear. It was Becca who asked the most pressing question from their earlier observations:

“Do you think your dad knows she’s using?”

“...I don't know.”

He grinds his hands further into his eye sockets, willing the newest image of that woman from his minds eye. Becca continued soothing rubs up and down his back and placed her chin on his shoulder so she could look at him more closely.

“It’s okay to be sad,” she mutters.

“I'm not sad. I'm... I'm…” Ethan dropped his hands and they hung between the gap of his legs. His eyes squeezed shut and she can make out the small droplets trapped against his lashes. “Angry.”

“That's okay, too.” Her free hand moved to begin tracing nonsensical patterns over the thin, starchy fabric at his forearm. “Anything you're feeling right now is okay.”

His clouded eyes flew open.

“I'm…” he begins to speak before pressing his lips together tightly.

He huffed, shoving off her embrace and stands.

“I have to get back to work.”

“That was your mom, Ethan. She nearly died. You can take a minute. It's okay--” she began to plead.

Becca was trying to beg him to stay. To lock the door and let them hold one another for a while. So that they can fall apart and patch one another up with unconditional affection. She needed this just as much as she knew he did.

But Ethan didn’t give her the chance to ask, to make the all too enticing proposition as he bound across the room. He didn’t even bother to turn around; his eyes shut tightly and hand reached for the metal knob. He inhaled a deep cleansing breath;

“No, it isn't. There are patients that need me much more than she does.” There was a finality in his tone that frightened her.

Becca’s jaw slacked.

Ethan didn’t leave a second for her rebuttal. For her to beg. Not even a quirk of the neck in her direction to see the matching brokenness in their eyes.

The door shut loudly behind him, his footsteps echoed down the hall.

She wanted to chase after Ethan. He needed her now more than ever. Another person in his life could have been gone in a swift, unforgiving instant. If the effects of seeing their patient on the brink of death was this bad for her she could only imagine what he was going through. Though Becca couldn't move, couldn’t force herself to run through the halls and break down the barriers he’s just put up sky high. He’s pushing her away again; she can feel it.

Resigned, Becca gave up the great fight.

When the rattling of his exit dissipated and all that reached her ears was an unnerving peace, she laid down, hugging the plastic wrapped pillow tightly to her body. It smelt like clean and disinfectant and morbidly hospital-like. She wasn’t able to lose herself in this horrid smell. She ripped off the case with as much strength as she could muster, freeing the mass-produced cushion. The squish of the mildly firm pillow through the hypoallergenic fabric wasn’t helping. It still carried all she needed to forget. Rolling to face the wall, curling into a tight ball and burrowing her face in the pillow she let out a vital, subdued scream. The damn was shattered and her emotions spiraled freely for the first time in days.

Everything was all too much.

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so-i-dont-forget-again · 3 years

Text

So I Don’t Forget Again: A Breath of The Wild fanfiction

Entry 152: Zora’s Domain

It somehow felt natural waking up to his smile. It seems like he didn’t notice I woke up at first. He apologized, asking if stroking my hair work me up. He just meant to move some hair away from my face, but he accidentally just kept going. I honestly don’t know, but the was sun rising anyway so maybe the change of lighting was what did it. In the temples the lighting hardly changes, it just barely gets darker at night, I have to really look for it to tell.

Sidon apologized for falling asleep, he meant to keep me company though the night, though he was so glad to awaken with me asleep beside him. He hadn’t been awake for too much longer than me. A prince has many duties so he must rise with the sun he says.

Sidon was glad I finally let myself sleep a little. He asked me how I felt about it. If it was scary or not. It was somewhat, but I felt safe to try. Sidon was glad, though he did wish I would sleep where the doctors could monitor me.

I’m healed, though some infections are still inside me. The doctors thought that sleeping naturally healed me, but that can’t be. I know for a fact I have slept out under the stars when injured and I did not awaken healed. The new theory is that I heal when asleep only when in a bed, or I’m comfortable. I also told them about how the hot springs can heal me too. They’ve started discussing finding some Sheikah scientists and seeing if together they could figure out how my body works.

Purah said she was going to go to the Revitalizing Chamber to study it. I wonder if she’s still there.

The doctors kept me for a while, and my infections have actually spread. This was why they didn’t want me to fully heal just yet. Thankfully the damage was able to be fixed for my side before so it’s just in my arm again. They want me to stay a bit longer to adjust my medicine and make sure it has no adverse effects on me. They told me to not use my arm still, or if I must, be gentle with it, they don’t want it to possibly reach my bones or other organs. It’s eating away at me in a way, so if I’m not careful, I could tear something, and the infection gets inside and not stay outside and it will become much more difficult to manage.

Sidon had mixed feelings about this. At least I could finally take the splint off.

I never knew food could taste so good! After all the tests and pocking at my arm Sidon and I cooked again! I missed eating much more than I thought I ever could! We cooked so much, it was practically a feast and we fed the whole town. Even the King was impressed by my cooking and loved trying Gerudo cuisine! The feast lasted through the whole afternoon. Sidon and I only got to eat after everyone else was full and done, but I don’t mind. They popped into the kitchen once in a while to help or to just chat for a bit. It was nostalgic to make honeyed apples again. I should visit Kakariko Village soon. Any food that was left over I finished. I’d like to try combining different cuisine, I think some of the different pieces placed together would compliment each other well! Sidon was excited by the idea.

The kitchen can get really hot, so a nice cool bath was perfect after the meal.

Sidon filled the bath with bubbles again and massaged the goopy stuff in my hair and on my scalp again.

Taking baths just feels so great. Sidon agreed with me that renovating my house to add a bath was a nice idea. I think I’ll keep the bathing plants outside so they can keep growing even when I’m gone traveling. I’ll just pick what I want or need and leave them by the bath when I go in. Maybe I could keep a fire rod at the bottom to heat the water. And maybe I could get a waterbed as well. It would be nice to expand the house a little and add a bigger kitchen. I could also possibly work the land around my house for a while so I can just grow more rarer ingredients, though the plants from the desert might not be able to grow in dirt.

Sidon told me he loved hearing me speak like this.

Speaking of houses actually reminded him of something. After reading my memories a while back, Sidon wanted to help with the construction of Bolson’s town in Akkala and found a zora who’s name ending with son who was willing to go there and help. He had experienced much of life, being alive when the Calamity struck as a warrior. He just wants a peaceful life. His goal is actually to wed a couple, and surely people would want to get married in the new town. One of the Gerudo women who came traveling with Sidon, her name also ended in son so Sidon convinced her to go. So all that is left is to send a Rito their way.

I should go back and check up on the place some time soon. I’m going to Rito Village soon anyway so perhaps after I help them, though I will be going past the Akkala region on my way there so maybe I should pop by for a quick visit.

Sidon wondered if my healing only worked when I am comfy and happy. Perhaps though the water was not hot, if I were injured right then if I’d be healing. He noticed that I heal when I’m comfortable. I don’t heal when traveling because I’m likely on edge or only half asleep prepared for an attack. It would explain why baths, sleeping in a bed in a town, and eating could all heal me, because they all relax me and make me comfortable. I could see that, but then I wouldn’t have been injured so long here getting to be with him so much.

Sidon asked me if I ever get scars even though I heal. I’m not entirely sure. I know I had scars on my body when I woke up from my hundred-year sleep. I also try to eat as soon as I get hurt so they’re gone so quickly I never exactly get the chance to even remember where they were.

Sidon asked if he could have a closer look at my scars. He gently traced them, like when he was reading the engravings about Zora history. It was like he was trying to memorize them. He said it was almost surprising how such a little body could fit so many marks. Some of them are slightly discolored from the rest of my skin, some of them sink deeply into me. Sidon said he’d never seen scars so big.

Sidon let me trace his scars. He has one the left fin thing on his head. He got it from a great battle with a giant octorok that swallowed him whole.

He became oddly quiet though, then he asked me if he could ask something related to my darker thoughts. He asked if I ever wish I never woke up, that I was never placed in the revitalizing Chamber. I feel like I should have died with them, but do I want that as well.

I think if I truly grasped this situation I’m in sooner, then maybe yes. If I remembered my past when I woke up instead of not recalling a thing, I think I might have.

If I wasn’t alive there would be no one else to finish what we had started. We’d all be restless, and the others will keep being like that till I defeat the Calamity. My want to protect everybody, make sure they are happy is worth much more than eternal rest to me. If I stayed dead, then so many more people would have gotten hurt than even now with the Yiga clan chasing me. Besides, as much as I hurt, there is so much here that was not a hundred years ago. I never would have met Yunobo, or Riju or Kass a hundred years ago. And I never would have gotten to see how amazing Sidon would have become if I somehow continued to live on in that time. I have something that outweighs the pain, even if at times it is all consuming and I almost forget everyone, but that’s why I write here in the first place. I re-read this every night, so I don’t forget.

Sidon told me it truly is a miracle that we were able to meet now. He is so glad we were able to meet, but he was wondering if all the pain was too much. He doesn’t want to be blind to my feelings, he wants to understand me.

At times it feels like he knows me better than I do. I’m not sure how he could understand me better, but I’m glad he wants too. He told me that he’s glad I feel the same.

Sidon asked if I’d stay with him in his room tonight. He found himself unable to let me go yet. He wanted to stay by me longer. He told me it was selfish of him to want for all my time, but he couldn’t lie to himself, so he had to at least ask, however he made sure I didn’t feel pressured to go. He never wanted to force me into anything. He only wanted me to be with him if I wanted too, being with me would feel fake otherwise, and he wants to keep our bond genuine.

Sidon only travels sometimes since he’s busy taking care of his people. Still though, he dreams of traveling more, like when coming to save me, his logical reasoning being making closer ties between his people and others, but he also just wants to travel. He wants to see the towns, experience life in other places and experience their cultures. After Mipha’s passing he was somewhat ignored and coddled. For so long, even now everyone is focusing on Mipha and grieving her, it’s still a fresh wound for many of them. Because of that he was just kind of there, still cared for, but just there. Though as the last next of kin in the royal family he couldn’t leave the Domain too often for his safety with all the guardians around. He has been taught to fight but has only gotten to use those skills on occasion, that was known at least. Secretly he’d sneak off to fight monsters who came near the Domain or the water ways that branched throughout Hyrule. The only person who didn’t do this is his father, he grieved for his daughter but he didn’t compare her and Sidon, he made sure to love and praise Sidon for his accomplishments, he actually liked it when Sidon snuck out with me to find Me or when he came to rescue me recalling his own reckless adventures as a prince, but he’s the king, he has so much to do. Sidon loves his people, and they love him too, but at a distance, because he’s not Mipha. The younger generations are more inclined to see him though. It was not a bad childhood, but it was straining at times.

Sidon told me that he actually sent out some guards to go out to search for a Hylian warrior because he’s not allowed to go out farther than Inogo Bridge. He only left because Bossa Nova got swept away by the current and he just had to go save his friend. Bossa Nova was to be kept in town, but he wandered off as usual and someone spotted him fall in the ferocious river. If Sidon had not been told, he likely would have stayed by that bridge, he only would have left if the situation had become absolutely dire.

Sidon feels he could do more for his people if he were allowed more freedom, and they all expanded their horizons and looked at the world beyond their canyon and waters. Others always came to them, rarely the other way around.

In Sidon’s room are trinkets from other places. He excitedly told me stories about each of the items. About the rock a Goron had given him, saying it was their favorite and a little guy like Sidon needed to eat great food to grow up big and strong. Some golden jewelry the Gerudo women gave Sidon after returning here from saving me, loving how excited he was happily traveling with them, and as thanks for fighting so well with them. Some sheet music Kass no longer needed since he memorized the songs long ago, they were songs Sidon was especially fond of because Sidon met Kass when he was practicing those songs. A stone frog from Kakariko Village as thanks for helping them when the town began to get flooded for a time. I would write everything, but I only have so many pages.

Sidon’s room is large and has a balcony. He has a large desk for paperwork where many of his items are placed. There’s this large pool in the middle. Zoras don’t sleep in beds often, they usually sleep in the water or pools like this. Sidon had many pillows, carpets and blankets from Gerudo Town. Sidon set them beside the pool as makeshift cushions.

It’s so strange to see Sidon without his silver pieces and the blue sash. They just seemed like a part of him I suppose, I’ve never seen him without them before.

As he was placing away his pieces, Sidon tripped over Bossa Nova who had wandered in as Sidon was showing me his items I suppose. He’s so quiet it seems neither of us noticed him. In Sidon’s room is also a work bench for chiseling and working with crystal. In the commotion Sidon had bumped into it knocking the items off it and I had to catch them before they fell into the water. Sidon panicked, screamed as he ripped the items from my hands and checked them. He shakily sighed and held my hands closely, thankful I didn’t catch the dagger by the blade.

The blade is white and serrated while the hilt is crystal. Sidon reminded me of when I told him of my time with Calisa, and all she had taught me about travel and survival. I only have large weapons so many things are difficult to work with without smaller tools. Smaller tools would be extremely useful for making fires, digging, cutting down branches, collecting bark, and many other things. Sidon decided to make a dagger for me out of his teeth. Bone is extremely strong so is should not break easily. Not only would it make for a good tool, but a weapon as well. Sidon worries that there may come a day where I’m in danger and he is unable to get to me in time, so I could at least have this, a part of him with me. He told me his affections for me runs deeper than I may even be able to even fathom. His heart belongs to his people, but to me as well.

The other item is like his sliver pieces, but bigger and longer. Sidon was also making a piece to protect my arm. It had the Zora’s crest, the three crescent shapes, but in the crescent shapes are sapphires and in the space between where the crescents touch is one of Sidon’s scales. He showed me how the gems could be taken out and have other gems placed in. At the bazaar I had taught him about what I had learned about gems and the powers they have. Sidon wanted me to be able to utilize their powers. This way I could use multiple gems powers at once or have multiple of one so the power could stack up, and with rubies, hopefully keep me warm in the Hebra Mountains where the Rito Village is till I could get some warm clothing from there. Sidon wanted to make something to protect my arm, though he was a little nervous that I’d be more reckless with my arm because it was protected and not try to shield it more.

The scale placed in armor to protect someone; this is rather culturally significant. Sidon had told his father and Muzu what he had been making for me, he started this one when he returned after saving me.

I asked Sidon if he could out right, out loud, say it.

Sidon told me that like writing down things, saying things out loud makes them more real, and I had so much on my mind already, he was worried about adding something else, about if this could stress me. I told him I would be okay. I just want to indulge myself and hear him say it first. Directly, not roundabout like we have been this whole time.

Sidon thinks he’s in love me.

I think I’m in love with him too.

The King and Muzu had questioned Sidon, but he told them he didn’t care if I didn’t return his feelings, he wanted to protect me from anywhere like Mipha with her armor and trident, Sidon would always come to my rescue should I need it, but in case he couldn’t get to me in time he still wanted to help even if he isn’t physically there.

It fits perfectly, I asked Sidon when he took my measurements. He got sheepish, telling me he just tried remembering how it feels to hold my arm.

I’m trying to keep writing, but all these feelings keep welling up and I almost feel like crying? But it doesn’t hurt? Like my chest is trembling, and my throat is getting choked up? I’m only directly writing this now, so I guess it’s only settling in now how real this is? Nothing has changed. We both knew we liked each other for a while now, only thing that’s changed is directly saying it. And now I can feel my heart pounding. Am I panicking? Am I just excited? I don’t know!

Sidon asked me if he could court me. Sidon was getting a bit flustered now, and he tried explaining what me meant, but just kept tripping over his words. He leaned in before abruptly stopping. He asked if he could kiss me.

Sidon’s teeth are still very sharp. When he parted he realized he cut my lip on accident and started panicking. I had to keep reassuring I was okay and reminded him just eating or sleeping would fix it.

And my heart is racing like when he tells me I’m adorable. Why must Sidon do this to me.

It was so late, Sidon told me I could leave if I wanted. I asked him if that’s what he wanted. He wanted me to stay. I wanted to stay as well.

Sidon tried staying up again. He apologized when he couldn’t keep his eyes open. I promised him I’d go to sleep with him when I was done writing, and now I’ll do just that.

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wordsablaze · 3 years

Text

Revolutionary Embrace

When it's just the two of them left in the tardis, Thirteen and Yaz finally get round to the just as awkward but much softer and sincere reunion they both deserve...

A/N: happy new year !! thought i'd start 2021 with a lil thasmin fix-it because i just want our space girlfriends to be happy <3

“It’s okay to be sad.”

Yaz doesn’t take her eyes off the Doctor, not even after the tardis doors quietly click shut and both of them are left standing in silence, save for the quiet thrumming of the tardis around them.

Thirteen sighs and turns, finally taking her eyes off the doorway but still unsure how to approach the dangerously soft look in Yaz’s eyes, the one she’s seen so many times before, the one she’s regretted causing in the first place so many times before.

“Yaz, I…”

When she doesn’t continue, Yaz sighs, walking over so she’s leaning on the railing directly beside the Doctor. “It’s okay. I’m sure they won’t mind if you visit every now and then.”

Well, that’s really not what Thirteen had thought she’d want to talk about. She blinks, then shakes her head, grinning sheepishly. “I’m not very good at timing the whole ‘now and then’ thing.”

The tardis seems to thrum louder at that, perhaps in sympathy or perhaps in outrage, and both of them laugh awkwardly. Yaz leans a little closer, gently nudging the doctor with her elbow. “Hey, did you really mean to come back as soon as you’d left?”

Ah, so they are going into that after all. Thirteen sighs, letting her head drop as she exhales. As much as she appreciates the way Yaz is waiting patiently for an answer, she hates the quiet between them. It feels cold and wrong and nothing like the way things should be. Not for the first time, she wishes she could turn back the clock and try again.

“Yes,” she answers eventually. “Yes, of course, I really thought I set the coordinates right. I didn’t mean to be gone so long, I swear.”

Yaz hums in acknowledgement. “You, uhm, you were smiling. When you got back, that is. Was that just for our benefit then, so we wouldn’t know how long you’d been gone?”

It’s almost frightening, the way Thirteen doesn’t even know who she is anymore but Yaz can still read her like an open book. Maybe it’s the new body, she thinks, and there’s something about her face in this regeneration that makes her easier to decipher. Maybe it has something to do with Yaz being the first person she really interacted with in this new body, she thinks, and something had blossomed between them because of that. Maybe-

“Doctor?” Yaz asks softly, pulling her out of her musings.

Thirteen lifts her head up again and offers Yaz a smile. “Gold star for Yaz.”

“How long were you in... space prison?” Yaz asks, her voice somehow even quieter than before, so quiet that even the tardis seems to pause her thrumming so none of the words get lost in the mostly but not entirely metaphorical distance between them.

She thinks of the tally marks, the endless strikes of white against uncaring stone walls, and the way she could navigate her daily walk or narrate every creature she goes past even in her sleep by the time Jack had made his way inside. She thinks of every time she’d wished she could leave and every time she’d wished she could see her lovely team back on earth again. She thinks of the clothes she’d been made to wear and how they were so impersonal, nothing like the outfit she’d picked out for herself with the help of the others, and how she’d felt so unlike herself in them.

Turning to face Yaz properly, Thirteen sighs. “Too long, Yaz, too long.”

“I’m sorry,” Yaz murmurs as if any of this could possibly be her fault.

Thirteen shakes her head. “It’s not your fault. Seeing you all again was the only thing that mattered. Did you guys miss me?” she half-jokes.

Yaz chuckles but her fingers are clenched into fists and her eyebrows are furrowed into a strange frown. Without thinking, Thirteen reaches for Yaz’s hands, covering them with her own and waiting as Yaz’s eyes widen in surprise before she looks up, something like hope shining in her beautiful brown eyes.

“I missed you. Every day. All of you! My wonderful, brilliant fam…” She trails off as the hope inside Yaz’s eyes fades into something darker, something more dismal and disappointed, but she doesn’t stop talking. “I knew Ryan and Graham would be there for each other, they’re great when they’re not bickering! But I’d hoped- well, I’d hoped I could be back before you... I didn’t want to leave you alone, Yaz.”

Yaz’s fingers slowly unfurl but instead of moving closer, she shakes her head and steps backwards, her hands slipping out from under the Doctor’s as she blinks slowly, clearly trying to calm herself down. “I wasn’t alone, Ryan and Graham came by a lot and I- I didn’t always notice how much time had passed, you know? Must be something to do with being inside the tardis, I guess.”

Thirteen nods. “Yeah, the tardis is pretty great, she’s… she always seems to know what to do.”

The tardis seems to thrum in approval but then she goes quiet again and Thirteen can literally feel the way that’s just to let her know it’s her turn to comfort their human now. She just wishes she knew how.

“So what do you say we celebrate the new year in the Meringue galaxy anyway?”

Yaz slips her hands into her pockets and nods slowly, half a smile blooming on her face. “Yeah. Yeah, okay, that sounds nice. I don’t even remember the last time I ate one of those anyway so it should be fun.”

Thirteen smiles back, hesitating for only a moment before reaching her left hand out towards Yaz. She hadn’t predicted the way Yaz’s expression seems to crumple but before she can panic about it, Yaz has thrown herself forwards, this time not to shove her away but to pull her close, Yaz’s arms looping around the Doctor’s neck almost desperately as she bites back a sob.

Her breath hitches but Thirteen lets herself relax into the embrace, slowly curling her own arms around Yaz and letting her eyes slip shut as she breathes in the scent of leather and lavender, a genuine smile growing on her face as the air around them fills with warmth, a warmth she’d almost forgotten could even exist.

“I missed you too,” Yaz mumbles into her shoulder, her voice thick and on the verge of breaking. Thirteen pulls Yaz closer in response, tightening her grip as the tardis thrums happily above them.

“I’m sorry for disappearing,” Thirteen whispers, “but I promise to try and never let you down.”

Yaz sighs but shows no sign of wanting to pull away, her fingers staying firmly curled around the Doctor’s jacket as if trying to physically anchor them together, as if she doesn’t believe they’re not going to be separated again, as if she expects Thirteen to disappear as soon as she lets go.

It’s not like Thirteen is complaining. She loves the feel of Yaz in her arms, she loves the way the rest of existence doesn’t seem to matter as much when she has Yaz’s arms around her, and she loves the way they fit together so well. It seems a shame they’ve waited so long to do this and for a moment, Thirteen wishes she could go back in time and do it earlier, before the whole mess of ten missing months.

“Thank you for coming back,” Yaz says after what feels like forever, pulling back just enough for their eyes to meet but still mostly wrapped around one another. “I was worried we’d never see you again.”

Thirteen shakes her head. “Oh, Yaz. The tardis and I couldn’t stand to have this universe without you, or any other universe really. I honestly can’t think of a single universe that wouldn’t want a Yaz!”

This time, Yaz’s smile fills her face, small crinkles emerging beside her eyes and a soft blush dancing across her cheeks. “I think I’ll just stick with you, Doctor.”

The tardis thrums in agreement.

“Well, I can’t argue with that!” Thirteen grins, pleased with the way Yaz laughs brightly and making a note to have more moments like this in the future.

When they finally, finally pull themselves apart from their warm embrace, Yaz carefully slides her fingers between the Doctor’s. Thirteen beams at her, squeezing her hand before going to start both the tardis engines and their journey to celebrate the new year properly.

It won’t be same as the last time they’d all gone to see nineteen different fireworks displays but somehow the change doesn’t seem so bad anymore, not when Yaz is smiling like her dreams have come true and the tardis is thrumming as if the whole universe is at peace and Thirteen finally feels like she’s truly back home.

Robertson may have been majorly wrong about the daleks being revolutionary but Thirteen can safely say she has no doubt that Yaz most definitely is.

this was very self-indulgent tbh but hey, maybe someone else can find a lil enjoyment in a thasmin hug :)

thanks for reading !! masterlist | doctor who blog: @thasmine

#thasmin #thirteen x yaz #doctor who #revolution of the daleks #fanfiction #thirteenth doctor #yaz khan #yasmin khan #fix it fic #fanfic #fluff #hurt comfort #hugs #everyone needs a hug #everyone gets a hug #if bbc won't give us cute thasmin content then i'll write it myself #my writing #re #no beta we die like daleks

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hpdabbles · 4 years

Text

What’s in a Name?

For @ironicallypresant who request “some kind of fae au for the wizarding world I’ve read a few things where lily is fae but never James.” I hope you like it!

Harry Potter settled down in the Hogwarts Express with a sigh and throwing a quick thank you to the two redheads that help him onboard. He couldn’t tell which one was Forge or Gred (what odd names), but they offer him a smile and a happy little wave. “Anything for a being of mischief!”

Harry didn’t know what that meant, but assuming it was just a wizard thing, he left it well alone. He still couldn’t quite believe he was a wizard, after all this time, all these strange unexplainable phenomenons, the sense of being misplaced in the perfectly normal family and normal neighborhood.

It was because he is magic. Because his parents had been magic.

Even if a month had gone by, Harry still had moments where he expected to wake up back in the cupboard and learn this had all been a cruel dream.

“Excuse me? Can I sit here? Everywhere else is full.”

Startled out of his thoughts Harry swings his eyes to the door where a redhead boy peaks at him expectantly. Harry never has anyone want to sit with him before, and he finds he doesn’t know how to say the words so he settles for nodding his head and waving a hand to the opposite side of him.

“Thanks,” The boy says dragging in a trunk behind him. Harry can’t help but notice how old and run down it is....maybe the boy would like to trade something to get a better trunk....Harry could offer a deal to-

Don’t try to drag people into your hustles boy! Uncle Vernon's voice sneers in his mind, making the dark hair boy jump. Ashamed he turns his gaze away from the trunk feeling his inside turn painfully for a few seconds. He clenches his fists in his lap trying to breathe through the ache in his chest until the sharpness fades away.

All of this happens in seconds and by the time the red hair child is settled in sit the Harry doesn’t show any sign of discomfort. For as long as Harry been able to remember those random pains come and go, never lasting for longer than five seconds but consist enough for teachers to point it out to his guardians. They took him to a doctor who couldn’t find anything wrong with Harry and it quickly became another “lie” Harry was famous for telling.

It’s gotten to the point he no longer saw reason to tell people about them, after all, no one would listen anyway. He took his hand off his chest, settling it in his lap happy the pain had turned to soreness instead.

He doesn’t think the stranger would have appreciated Harry pointing out the terrible state of his trunk. Heavens knows the shame that overcomes him whenever someone sneered at his clothes, always too big and dirty, compared to his properly dressed family members.

He offers the boy a shy smile, trying to find something to say. “What’s your name?”

The redhead boy raises a brow, dragging his gaze pointedly to Harry’s hair before shrugging “Whatever you like to call me.”

Harry didn’t know how to respond to that. “What?”

“Whatever you want to call me. I’ll answer to it” The boy says casually, then seems to rethink that as he hasty adds on “As long as it’s not mocking. I get that too much from Fre- ugh my twin brothers.”

“a nickname?” Harry asks feeling both off footed and a bit ecstatic. No one ever asked Harry to give them a nickname before it was almost like the boy wanted to be close to him like real friends were.

“Nick sounds fine,” The newly dub Nick says shrugging his small shoulders. “ I appreciate the last name even if it’s just the word Name.”

Harry blinks bewildered green eyes at him, pulling at his long sleeves over his hands. A nervous habit he developed over the years. “You want me to call you Nick Name?”

“Sure mate.”

“Why?” Was he mocking Harry?

The boy snorts, “Mate, your hair gave you away. No offense but my Mum didn’t raise a fool. I’m not about to give away my name so easily.”

“My...hair?” Reaching up to try and smooth his wild hair Harry wonders if it fell to the side to reveal his scar. Was this about him being famous?

“Yeah” Nick nods as if that means anything, like they somehow got on the same page now, giving Harry a smile that seems too friendly for someone making fun of him. “Not that I mind, it’s in your nature after all, but you should wait till your older to make Deals. Bit funnier that way yeah?”

The way he says that, where he can hear the capital D, makes something in Harry ding, as if though he rung a bell in his head. Harry doesn't know why but it makes him smile.

Nick returns the grin. “Your hair is standing up.”

“What!?” Harry reaches up to slap the locks down that is for some reason, risen in the air. Not like a cowlick but closer to when he is underwater, floating about gently. He blushes, ashamed of his freak curls, and hoping Nick wouldn’t be disgusted by him.

“It’s wicked that it does that,” Nick says, his blue eyes flickering upwards to his straight red hair. “Mine just flops uselessly like a dead mop on my head. I wish I was as cute as you.”

Harry has never been as red as he was at that moment. “C-cute?”

No one ever thought Harry was cute before. Heck, no one thought he was anything other than a smear on society.

“Oh!” The boy slaps his forehead as if he caught himself saying something foolish. Sheepishly he offers Harry a shrug. “I tend to put my foot in my mouth. I know I shouldn’t call your kind cute. I didn’t mean to stereotype you mate, sorry about that. Say what should I call you? Mate just sounds weird to say over and over again.”

Harry feels like the communication between them was failing. Nick was obviously speaking English but somehow it was an entirely different language. “I’m Har-”

The door opens again, this time to show a blond boy in elegant robes around their age. He gave the room a quick once over, passing Nick without a second glance. The moment his eyes land on Harry however, he does a double-take, staring at his hair with a fierce intensity.

Then he smiles pearl white teeth. “I heard the Boy-Who-Lived was in this compartment. Is that you?”

“Oh him, I mean yeah that's me. I’m the Boy-Who-Lived.” Harry answers awkwardly still not used to his famous title. Across from him Nick looks startled.

“Are you really?”

Harry reaches up to lift his bangs flashing the strange scar he had for as long as he could remember. Nick's eyes widen before he breaths “That’s wicked.”

“Thanks?” He doesn't know how he should respond to the obvious awe in Nick’s face now. The blond boy clears his throat stepping forward with a hand raised.

“It’s nice to meet you.”

Harry blinks then shakes it as well. Two people that want to talk to him. Harry is on a roll today! As he shook the hand he can’t help but notice the way the blond boy’s eyes seem to be fixed on his lips, and he wonders if he wanted a kiss. Maybe Harry could trade him something for a quick peck-

No. Harry tells himself No hustles. No freakiness. Stop it. Besides how weird would it be to trade something for a kiss? He wants to makes friends not scare everyone away.

A sharp pain wrecks havoc across his torso, making him wince slightly. He fights the urge to press his palm against the pain.

“It’s nice to meet you too-ugh sorry I didn’t get your name?” Harry says feeling nervous, his voice wavering towards the end. Had the other said it and he missed it due to the stinging ache?

The blond looks unimpressed for a moment then he snorts. “Nice try. You can call me whatever you please”

“How about Ferret?” Nice offers with a grin obviously trying for good humor teasing. “You got the features.”

“Think that’s funny do you?” The blond snaps face clouded with displeasure. Obviously, the other took it as an insult instead. “I don’t need to focus on your features. Just point out the red hair, hand me downs and-

Harry quickly intervenes not wanting his new possible friends to fight. Besides this is the second nickname of his life, it was special, Harry had only been on the train for a short while and already he was connecting better to the people here then all of the eleven years combine back in Privet Drive.

“How about Pearl?” He offers which brings the blond up short. He hastes to explain his reasoning feeling foolish for over-explain but unable to stop. “Since you look really....fancy...and you have.. near oval white hair?”

He winces at the expression of consideration that overcomes the blond’s face feeling like he just messed this all up. Until the blond smiles, satisfied. “Pearl is a good name. I shall call you Emerald. You have lovely green eyes, it seems fitting”

Harry bit his lip, ducking his head to hide the sudden overwhelming happiness he got from that comment. He’s always been rather weak to them, despite how rarely he’s ever received them.

Nick chuckles “Emerald, your hair is floating again. Must be because your feeling light after that compliment. Heh heh heh, get it?”

Harry would die for him. He doesn’t know why but that usage of puns makes him want to die for him. If anyone ever threatens him, Harry would tear them apart before they could finish their sentence. In fact, Harry was taking him home, Nick was his now, of course only if Nick wanted to come with him but his house was his now and-

“You Fae are so easy,” Pearl says rolling his eyes. “It wasn’t even a clever pun.”

Harry stops the sudden possessive thoughts to stare at him confusingly. “I’m sorry?”

“I know you like flattery-”

“You think I’m a fairy?” Harry interrupts utterly bewildered. “Why?”

For some reason, Pearl looks alarmed. “No! No! I meant no offense. I would never compare you to a fairy. I wasn’t trying to be disrespectful. Please, accept my humble and honest apologies.”

“But you just said I was a fairy.”

“No, he said Fae.” Nick hastily adds. “I swear he did.”

“...What’s a Fae?”

The two stare at him, then Nick forces a laugh. “Good one Emblard. Real funny.”

A fuzzy buzz sound goes off somewhere behind Harry’s eyes. He’s lying, but he can’t bring himself to point it out. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia don’t like it when Harry points out lies. It’s weird but he’ always been able to tell when someone lies to him.

“Thanks.” He says instead. Both boys relax. “Do either of you know anything about Hogwarts?”

The rest of the ride was spent getting Harry up to speed on all these Hogwarts until a girl arrived looking for a toad. Before anyone can open their mouths she moves right on to introductions ignoring the fact they couldn’t respond to her inquiry of the lost toad. “I’m Hermione Granger and this is Nevi-”

“Don’t tell him my name!” The chubby boy yelps “Are you mad?”

Harry stares at the girl, her name wrapping around him the same way all names do.

“Nice to meet you, Hermione” Her name rolls off his tongue like caramel. He likes the taste of it, but he fights the mad smirk that always surfaces his face when meeting new people. His aunt Petunia hates it, and usually it earns him a wack of a pan to the head.

Sadly, like now, he can’t fight it completely and it breaks across his face slowly, sharply, and overly eager. The three other males wince. “I’m Harry Potter.”

The girl goes white. “You’re a Fae.”

“I’m....I’m sorry I’m a what?” Harry asks smirk falling right off his face.

“A F-Fae. I read about you...in the books” Hermione gulps looking close to shaking. “I didn’t know...I know it said the hair was a sign but I just thought you don’t use a comb or-”

“Granger stop while your ahead!” Nick shouts alarm. “Don’t insult him!”

“Wait wait,” Harry says raising his hands as the girl looks about close to bursting into tears and the other two- Pearl and Chubby boy- seem about to make a run for the door. “What on earth you all going on about?”

“You...didn't know?” Hermonie sounds shocked. Then her eyes widen “Is this a trick? Surely you are aware that you’re a Fae Harry.”

“I’m a what?”

“A Fae. Like all Potters before you.”

“My Dad was a Fae?” Harry leans closer to her hungry for anything of his parents.

Suddenly Hermonie sat up straight, “I’ll trade you everything I know about the Potter family that I read exchange for my real name. We can change it to a nickname....If...if you want?”

Harry is extremely embarrassed by the purr like noise that started somewhere in his throat. He just knows his hair is floating again, and he can feel his cheeks gaining a healthy flush. “Oh! Yes please, I’ll give you the best nickname ever promise!”

Hermonie mouth drops, her own face turning bright red. For a moment she seems to have stop functioning, unable to look away from Harry who is still making that odd purring noise. The other members are as equally flustered.

“Is this the Veela Allure I read about?” Hermonie whimpers after a moment.

“No, this is a Fae Deal.” Chubby boy stutters out, hiding his eyes behind his hands. Though he is taking small peaks at Harry form between his fingers only to close them. A few seconds later he spreads his fingers again. “It’s one of the reasons they get so many Deals. People like...um...looking.”

“Hermonie! Hermonie! Hermione!” Harry calls leaning towards the girl, his voice having an odd little ring to it now “Please tell me! I’ll give you a nickname if you want but please, what is this about the Potters?”

“Give me my nickname first,” The girl says after swallowing twice.

Harry tilts his head thinking quickly “How about Bella? It means beauty in French.”

“Bella is fine” The poor girl squeaks sounding like she is close to choking. “Bella is nice. Thank you.”

Harry's lips pull into that mad smirk once more, unknown to him making his face turn a bit....foreboding “You owe me my information.”

She goes pale once more. “Y-yes of course.”

It’s a very educational conversation.

#hpdabbles #Prompt night #Harry potter #ironicallypresant #Fae Potter Family #Harry wasn't aware he was a Fae #Au What's in a name #Hermonie really went and gave her name to a fae #Potter Hair is famous for a different reason #Draco is Pearl #Ron is Nick #Neville may or may not get a nickname too #Everyone is thirsty for Harry #Unknown flirting #(Sorry it just went into that direction)

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ofstarsandfireflies · 3 years

Text

This month is almost at a close people! How does time fly by so quickly?

Phantom of the Opera

There’s a phantom living in the opera house, and he has his eye set on one girl.

Tony had heard about some place called Kamar-Taj, but that was only a rumour...well until he was standing outside the door to the place that is, the man who had lead him here, Mordo, at his side.

This was Tony’s last option since the only surgeon he wanted to remove the shrapnel from his heart had gone missing some five years ago after a car accident.

Kamar-Taj was a place of mediation, but if the Ancient One saw you and took an interest in you, then they would heal you.

Tony didn’t believe it but he had money to burn and he hated having this battery in his chest which had been prone to trying to kill him.

That’s what it was meant to prevent.

His little night light needed to go, and he hoped this would somehow work.

It was just his luck that there was no Ancient One anymore.

She had died, and the next one to take her place hadn’t been chosen yet.

But Mordo wasn’t about to turn away a person in need.

Maybe Tony could heal himself?

All he had to do was commit to their training, and maybe the Sorcerer Supreme would help him.

What was with the names in this place? Ancient One? Sorcerer Supreme? He felt like he was ordering at a burger joint.

So, weird names aside, Tony decided to give it a trial period.

See what this training was, see if it could really help and wasn’t just some scam and then make up his mind after a week or so.

By the end of the very next day, Tony had learnt most of what took an average student half a year to accomplish.

And word quickly spread about the new student.

Tony was given the next day to read, seeming how he’d made so much progress in so little time, and it was while the sun was still high, he heard it.

There was a noise coming from inside the wall.

Tony didn’t pay too much attention to it until it began calling to him.

He thought that it must be one of the other students, so he ignored it as best he could.

But he kept hearing it.

It kept him company as the sun set, it lulled him to sleep in the late hours, and when morning came again and he could still hear it, Tony began searching for the source.

Knocking on walls hoping for a secret door, he finds nothing.

Asking Mordo to come to his room, only to get disbelief and raised eyebrows in return when he told him he couldn’t hear what Tony was hearing.

And it was that night that Tony met the owner of the voice.

The Sorcerer Supreme.

Tony knows him as Stephen Strange, the doctor he wanted to do his surgery, but the doctor doesn’t want to be called by that name anymore.

Just The Sorcerer will do.

He’s taken a particular liking in Tony’s gift and knows Tony can do some real good if he had a proper teacher.

Tony just wants to fix himself up and get back to his life and is about to start arguing when he’s offered an alternative.

If Tony stays for one whole year, and allows this Sorcerer to tutor him on the side of his regular training, and Tony still wants to go back to living a normal life, than he will reverse time to this very moment, erasing everything from Tony’s mind, and heal him like he wants.

Not seeing the harm in this, Tony agrees, going to shake his hand to seal the deal.

The Sorcerer doesn’t move.

It’s then Tony notices the gloves.

Every day Tony trains and every night he gets advanced lessons from the Sorcerer Supreme.

He wants to ask so many questions, but whenever he tries, he gets nothing in response.

The Sorcerer will only speak to him to give him direction, to tell him what he’s doing wrong.

And to snap at him when Tony accidentally lets slip his name.

And after a week, Tony has had enough of it.

He’s had enough of staring into those eyes and seeing the walls this wizard has built up around himself.

Tony doesn’t think he’s done anything wrong when he turns up the charm to get closer to the Sorcerer.

It barley crosses his mind when he takes his hands in his own and holds them before pulling the gloves right off, baring the scars that were hidden.

The Sorcerer expects Tony to recoil.

He expects himself to lash out.

He doesn’t expect Tony’s hands to be warm, gentle and soft.

He doesn’t expect the first touch of another person’s skin to feel so foreign and yet so familiar to his senses.

To Tony, it’s nothing.

But to the Sorcerer, it’s everything.

No one has ever held his hands like this, before or after what happened to them.

No one dared.

But Tony did.

And when Tony blurts out his old name while apologising...he doesn’t get any remark of any kind.

So Stephen is what he shall call him from now on.

It’s been a couple of months since Tony agreed to that deal, making impressive strides in his education as a Sorcerer thanks to Stephen putting all his time into their nights together.

He’s a lot more relaxed around him; he talks more, he even takes Tony’s hands in his own to move them himself instead of just showing him when Tony is struggling with something.

And every time it happens Tony can’t breathe.

Stephen will stand behind him, his chest strong and warm against his back, his head resting over his shoulder, their fingers laced as Stephen guides Tony’s hands in his own.

Sometimes Tony will lean back, taking comfort in the warmth.

During one such moment Stephen looked down at him just as Tony tilted his head and their lips almost brushed, making the both of them freeze, the lesson forgotten.

Stephen’s hands let go of Tony’s to skim down the body he’s pressed against, holding the man closer to him.

One rides up his shirt, scars meeting scars as they trace over one another, causing a slight shiver to pass through Tony’s body.

And when their lips meet on purpose this time, Stephen knows he won’t be able to let Tony go at the end of the year, regardless of any deals.

Tony is his. Not only for tonight.

Mordo is the only person Tony ever talks to, so he’s the only one to be told about the relationship Tony has with the Sorcerer Supreme.

At first he tries to make it out like Tony had some wet dream about a man he made up, but while Tony tells him about Stephen Strange and how he learned the real meaning of Magic Fingers, Mordo knows it’s real.

He knows because he’s been waiting years and years for the Sorcerer to make his choice, hoping they would see his passion and drive.

He excelled at every lesson, he stayed when so many had left, just for the Sorcerer to choose him.

And instead he had chosen Tony.

A billionaire who wouldn’t have come here if it didn’t benefit him in some way.

Mordo was willing to learn, had been willing to learn from the very best long before Stark had even been reminded he had a heart.

But no.

The Sorcerer had his apprentice and lover all rolled up into one, and that wasn’t Mordo.

But if he got rid of Stark, then the Sorcerer would need someone new.

And that someone new would be him. There was no one else it could possibly be.

There was no one else worthy.

Especially an Avenger with a heart condition.

There’s only three months left of Tony’s training with Stephen before he has to make his choice to go back to the life that has gone on without him, or stay in this new one.

It’s a hard decision, one made harder by his relationship with Stephen.

If he goes back, will Stephen go back to how he used to be?

If he stays, will he be allowed to leave at all?

The world was in constant danger and he wasn’t one to sit by while it perished around him.

What if something happened somewhere in the world where he could help but he had other duties?

That wasn’t him.

When he tries to bring this up with Stephen, all he says is that the Avengers will deal with it.

But Tony was...is still part of the Avengers.

And when he says this, Tony can see those walls start to build up behind Stephen’s eyes again.

The very walls Tony had knocked down himself.

Mordo looked down at Tony sleeping, trying to figure out how his countless attempts to get Tony out of Kamar-Taj kept backfiring.

Mordo can’t explain how or why.

Everything he’s done to Tony he has done to someone else in the past and they never came back.

Half of these traps should have killed him, and the other half should have dismembered something, yet still he remained alive and whole.

That’s when he decides to use something he never thought he’d have to.

If he can take away Tony’s magic, the Sorcerer will have no need for him and will beg for Mordo to be his.

It was the only way.

But there was something Mordo hadn’t been counting on.

When he places his hand over Tony’s chest to drain all the power Tony has inside him, he touches the arc reactor.

And it does nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

He tries again, but the result is the same.

Somehow, Tony is protected.

If Tony has been awake he might have mentioned how the arc reactor’s new element might have been the cause, how it’s energy matched that of the tesseract and even Loki’s scepter couldn’t do anything to him.

But leaving Mordo to think he’d finally been out matched was probably for the best.

Tony has come to a desicion.

He’s about to tell Stephen what it is, when Stephen is taking his hands and asking him to stay with him.

He doesn’t want to forget him, he doesn’t want to be forgotten.

He wants to protect this world with Tony at his side.

He wants to spend his life with him.

But, if Tony wants to go back, if that’s what he truly wants, Stephen will do it for him.

Tony smiles.

There is nothing that could ever happen that would make Tony choose anything but Stephen.

Normalcy was over rated anyway.

Quotes -

“In sleep he sang to me, In dreams he came. That voice which calls to me and speaks my name. And do I dream again? For now I find the Phantom of the Opera is there, inside my mind.”

“Sing once again with me, our strange duet. My power over you grows stronger yet. And though you turn from me to glance behind the Phantom of the Opera is there, inside your mind.”

Tony and Stephen finally meet.

“Let your mind start a journey through a strange new world. Leave all thoughts of the life you knew before. Let your soul take you where you long to be. Only then can you belong to me. Floating, falling, sweet intoxication. Touch me, trust me, savour each sensation.”

Their first night.

“But his voice filled my spirit with a strange, sweet sound. In that night there as music in my mind. And through music my soul began to soar. And I heard as I’d never heard before.”

“What you heard was a dream and nothing more.”

“Yet, in his eyes all the sadness of the world. Those pleading eyes that both threaten and adore.”

Mordo learning about Tony’s relationship with Stephen.

“Then say you’ll share with me one love, one lifetime. Let me lead you from your solitude. Say you need me with you here beside you. Anywhere you go let me go too. Christine, that’s all I ask of you.”

Stephen asking Tony to rethink their moments together at the end of the year.

The Sorcerer’s Apprentice

Tony had gone to Kamar-Taj for one reason.

Falling in love with their most powerful and secretive Sorcerer wasn’t it.

Missed a Day? Catch up here!

Day 1 Day 2 Day 3 Day 4 Day 5

Day 6 Day 7 Day 8 Day 9 Day 10

Day 11 Day 12 Day 13 Day 14 Day 15

Day 16 Day 17 Day 18 Day 19 Day 20

Day 21 Day 22 Day 23

#ironstrange #OSAF’s Movie Night #strangeiron

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ruinedandnotorious · 3 years

Text

tumblr, listen.

i have a lot on my mind and i need to get it out and i have too many other people looking at my other social media accounts to say it all there. i should’ve known my old pal tumblr would be there for me.

woo lord, i am frustrated. and anxious. i keep feeling like i’m on the precipice of something. that all of my work and hope and traction is going to lead... somewhere. somehow. sometime. but i don’t know how or with who and certainly not when and i wish the when was yesterday.

i have so many ideas i can’t get off the ground for whatever reason. i’ve tried though! i sent off some applications, submissions and emails this week that will hopefully yield some kind of results. yesterday i was very much in that mindset of, “they can bite you, but they can’t eat you,” so i just went for things.

i’ve put things out into the world, but it never hurts to put them out there more. so, here goes.

i am lucky to have the job that i have. the money sucks, but my boss is super flexible with my time and supportive of my volunteer work. i actually really like every single coworker, which has never happened before, lol.

right now, though, we are only working 30 hours... which is PERFECT for my mental health, but AWFUL for things like rent and bills. i’m making it, but that’s literally it. i need more money, majorly. but man, i enjoyed the hell out of unemployment last year. i want a new job - one that pays well - and one that doesn’t feel like work. i know, that’s everyone’s dream. but i feel like i am so close to getting there but it’s always just out of reach.

my job is fine, truly. it’s easy. it’s cushy - i’m working from home, thank god. BUT staying inside all day is getting to me physically and, unless i have a work meeting or am recording my podcast, i don’t talk to anyone but my cat (and my mom, by phone), so it can really drain my mental health. but i also don’t want to get out too much because, hello, goddamn covid.

this last year has taught me a lot, but it’s also changed how i socialize. i’ve always been introverted but it’s worse now and i’m picky about who/how i socialize. i have this one friend that i’ve known since elementary school. we’ve always been friends, but never super close. we have nothing in common, literally nothing. for a while, that didn’t matter. it was fun to catch up. now, though? the friendship feels like a chore. i hate saying that. but i don’t know that either of us get anything out of it, really. but she keeps trying to reach out and i’ve ignored her every time. i’ve ignored her for MONTHS. she deserves a response. but i also know that any response will just fuel the fire. i hate to be like, can we not? but every time i try to work myself up to respond to her, i just can’t. it’s like my brain is like, no, we’re not saying anything. no. don’t even consider it. i just have this block. i feel so bad saying that. she’s done nothing wrong! but i also know i tiptoe around stuff because, again, we have nothing in common, so it’s not like i can just freely speak my mind about anything. she doesn’t give a shit about anything i’m into an vice versa, so it’s frustrating to just update my life like, “well, i work, that’s it.” because she doesn’t give a damn about anything else i’m doing or am into. UGH. like. why does she want to keep this going? i had someone - like a best friend (not this friend i’m talking about, but one that’s much closer to me) - tell me recently that i am a shitty friend so... this is proof. yay.

anyway. i met someone recently who blew my damn mind. she’s a spiritual advisor/counselor, and we instantly connected about so many things but i also learned so much from her - in just the few hours we talked. i want to do an actual session with her, but her rates are high and i don’t have the money. i’ve thought about asking her if i could trade some social media services for a session - like basically be her social manager for a month - but i also know money is money and she’s worth actual money, not likes/followers on social. i don’t know. i do not want to disrespect her; i know she’s worth every penny.

but she did confirm some things i’ve wondered about in terms of those i’ve lost. she gave me a bit of peace. but i have more questions. like, a whole page of questions, lol.

she also opened my eyes to some healing work i need to do on myself... in a lot of ways, but especially in regards to my last job and how they fucked me over. i have so much anger and hurt from that, a year later. and i even consider what they did to me a blessing - it’s really led to a life that is more in line with what i actually want and value. i’m just angry at how it all went down and how they still act - or don’t - toward me.

the mag i work for let me write about my dad’s passing and the complications of covid grief, so that was great - i had an outlet for that. but how do you go about getting your feelings out about your last employer... who’s a major player in town and who drives tourism for the city.. lol. i’m sure i’ll let it all out here sooner or later.

i jumped back on a dating site, 100% for the distraction, not because i thought i’d actually meet someone. which is probably why i haven’t, lol. like... no one even comes close to what i think i want in a man. i keep hoping someone will show up at the cemetery... yes when i’m covered in graveyard dirt and sweat and looking my worst... i also feel bad that i keep hoping the cemetery will answer all of life’s questions and fix me in all the ways. like. my expectations are too high - of a cemetery! - so i’m sure my expectations for a guy are too high too.

i’m also not ready to meet someone because i am physically just not into a relationship either. i’m my biggest i’ve ever been. i was doing so well at becoming body neutral - just accepting of my body, not so much loving it - but woo lord, i somehow gained like 10 pounds over the last week and i am feeling it, big time. idk how i’ve gained so much when i mostly eat at home? and i don’t think i’m eating THAT bad at home? i never fry anything? i do eat a lot of cheese i guess. i don’t know. gonna go to the doctor soon and i’m sure THAT will be a fun visit. plus, my hands - especially my left hand - has really bad trigger finger (i’m guessing that’s what it is, it meets all of the symptoms on webmd lol) and it hurts so bad. i don’t wanna go back to an ortho.

there are other issues, specifically concerning shark week (i asked my psych doc about it and she made me feel normal, so thank god for her), that i’ve got to get squared away, too. it feels like my body has just ran away from me and i can’t control any part of it.

i’ve read so many good books in the last year, holy shit. lately i’ve been watching movies while i work and holy shit, classic movies are so damn good. claude rains, man.

pose is amazing. blanca is like, the perfect human ever? if ever i run away to start a new life, i’m using the name elektra abundance. i. love. elektra. so. much.

i’m angry at myself because i’ve always wanted to collect mini brands and dammit i finally bought my first ball and... yep. i wanna get ‘em all. they are $7 a ball. i don’t need this stupid, expensive thing to be into.

that’s just it. i wish i had the money for little frivolous things like that. there’s an edgar allan poe tarot deck at my local witchy shop that i am DYING for. i want a new tattoo - not even anything that big or expensive!

i really want a damn vacation. i feel so bad saying that. but i just want out of this area for a second.

SIGH.

generally... life’s alright. i just want it to be better and maybe a little more exciting.

#weight #body issues #life #money #jobs #wtf am i even doing #tv #friendship

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mythgirlimagines · 3 years

Photo

I’m sorry for being late! Guess you could call this a tardy Talentswap Tuesday! Anyway, introducing Myth, the Former Ultimate Nurse!

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BACKSTORY AND TALENT

Growing up, Myth was one of the more empathetic and level-headed people of her friend group. She’s always carrying a first aid kit, in case her friends get into any accidents. After her recent scoliosis surgery, Myth decided to get into the medical field, and she started by volunteering at multiple hospitals in her teen years. She was well-known amongst her patients for her kind-hearted and courteous attitude and her amazing bedside manner. But what really catapulted her to medical stardom, was her involvement in the “M-0 H-5” incident. After a fiery explosion at a rock concert has left the lead vocalist amputated, burned, and partially deaf, Myth managed to stay calm and heal up the rock star, until she could stand again. In her adult years, she is studying hard to pass medical school. But she is willing to put her studies aside to chaperone the Ultimates and Jr. Ultimates on their Kibo-Con journey.

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RELATIONSHIPS

Wyre Anon, Former Ultimate Musician

Ever since Myth met Wyre at the “M-O H-5” incident, Myth has been helping Wyre get back up and rocking again. Despite their clashing personalities, they get along very well. Although Myth usually has to remind Wyre to wear her hearing aid and prosthetic arm, for Wyre has a very bad tendency to be reckless and impulsive, and thus regularly forgets them.

Anon Scar, Ultimate Animator

While Myth admires Scar’s dedication to her craft, Myth wishes that Scar wouldn’t sacrifice precious sleeping hours to work on her latest project. It‘s very clear that all of those sleepless nights had taken a toll on Scar’s mind, for her “Demon of Reanimation” schtick is heavily concerning Myth to say the least.

Fusion Anon, Reserve Course Student

Both Fusion and Myth have a mutual respect for each other, in part due to their similar wise and caring personalities and even interests. They regularly meet up with each other to have conversations about various topics over some healthy snacks, such as studying methods and the antics of their more reckless classmates.

Fusion Anon II, Ultimate Mechanic

While they initially didn’t get along very well due to their opposing personalities, they both found a common interest after Myth witnessed Fusion II not only fix but also improve Wyre’s robot arm: prosthetics! Now Fusion II is on Wyre duty alongside Myth, watching over Wyre and making sure that she doesn’t damage her prosthetic limb again.

Just Anon, Ultimate Yakuza

Between Janon‘s hostile demeanor and his dangerous family business, Janon is one of the most concerning individuals in Myth’s book, and that just gives her more reasons to constantly keep an eye on him. Janon can’t stand Myth’s constant coddling of him every time he gets harmed in fights against rival yakuza families. Janon’s resentment of Myth isn’t helped by her constant teasing of him over his romantic feelings for Curious.

Sparkle Anon, Former Ultimate Team Manager

Apart from Wyre, Sparkle is the Former Ultimate that Myth gets along with the most. They both could, in a way, be considered the ”moms” of the Kibo-Con roster, for they regularly care for and pump up the young Anons, when they’ve got a bad day. Behind closed doors, Myth regularly flirts with Sparkle, which only manages to boost Sparkle’s already large ego.

Egg Anon, Former Ultimate Gamer, and Wet Sock Anon, Former Ultimate Photographer

This cursed twosome manages to tick a lot of boxes in Myth’s checklist for “NEEDS HELP IMMEDIATELY”. Between Wet Sock’s violent and aggressive attitude and cursed comments, and Egg’s impulsive and somehow even more cursed comments, Myth regularly tries to crack open the Freak Twins’ psyche to find out exactly what went wrong in the twin‘s life to make them act this way.

Curious Anon, Jr. Ultimate Animal Breeder

You’d think that with their similar talents, Myth and Curious would fit each other like a glove, and you’d be right. Curious has a calm and tranquil demeanor that puts Myth at ease whenever she interacts with both them and their pet Collie, Barkley. Barkley reminds Myth of her own dog back home, and that just makes her even happier being around Curious.

Anon Nerd, Former Ultimate Traditional Dancer

While Nerd‘s dance moves are tranquil and peaceful, Nerd has a foul-temper, and the mouth to match when off the stage. You’d think that it’ll discourage Myth from interacting with him, but there is a slight issue: Nerd has a very blatant crush on Myth, that he isn’t doing a very good job of hiding. Myth regularly flirts with the dancer, and endures fan smacks and geta stomps from him. It’ll be worth it in the end, when she gets him to open up to her.

Dream Anon, Ultimate Princess

Myth can’t help but feel humbled when around the crowned princess of the island nation of Kyuuhai, but Dream insists that she should be treated like any other student here. Dream is always happy to show off the customs and athletics of her home country. Unfortunately for Myth, Dream has a hostile bodyguard/boyfriend that prevents Myth from getting closer to her. Speaking of which…

Eldritch Anon, Ultimate Swordsman

Having been trained as Dream’s bodyguard for all of his life, Eldritch has a hostile distrust towards everyone, apart from Dream, and Myth is sadly not an exception to this. However, Myth is working hard to prove to the overzealous swordfighter that she is worth trusting. From patching up Eldritch after sparring sessions to attempting to set up Eldritch and Dream on a date, Myth’s attempts have slowly, but surely restored Eldritch’s trust in people.

Iris Anon, Jr. Ultimate Gymnast

Iris might just hold the record for the most visits to Myth’s office, and the various bandages on her person could easily explain why. Despite her talent requiring grace, Iris is superbly clumsy when off of the balance beam. Myth ends up regularly thinking, “Oh, Iris! What will I ever do with you?” anytime Iris has an accident and Myth winds up having to patch her up.

Purple Anon, Ultimate Lucky Student

While Iris holds the record for most visits to Myth’s office, Purple holds the record for most accidents escaped unscathed. Because of Purple’s timid and avoidant nature towards anyone besides Fusion, Myth isn’t really given many opportunities to talk with or socialize with her. According to Fusion, Purple avoids others to prevent them from being infected by her luck and dying in an future accident because of it.

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APPEARANCE

Nurse!Myth wears her undyed hair in a shoulder-length bob that covers her right eye. Her hair is decorated with a white flower barrette and a pink hairband with a heart pin. She wears a white lab coat with a Red Cross design on each pocket and pink lining on the end of the sleeves and pockets, over a pink turtle neck sweater. She also wears a teal skirt, black stockings and white slip-on shoes with pink soles and a Red Cross design that matches her lab coat.

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PERSONALITY

Around the younger Anons, Nurse!Myth is a calm and tranquil person, who would always be there for you in case of an emergency or a bad day. So, Nurse!Myth is more of a mom compared to Romantic!Myth. But when around the Former Ultimates, she shows a more devious side. Around the adults, Nurse!Myth drops her ”mom friend” facade, and becomes more teasy and flirtatious, a bit more like Romantic!Myth. Nurse!Myth just lives for the reactions of the people she flirts with. Despite her laid-back attitude, Nurse!Myth is still very studious and educated. She is a professional nurse, after all. Nurse!Myth’s personality can best be described as Kirumi with a hidden Teruteru side.

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Once again, I’d like to apologize for my tardiness, but I hope this Myth makes up for it? What do you think of Nurse!Myth and the other talentswaps in this AU? I’d love to hear your personal thoughts on this AU!

-Fusion Anon

—

No need to apologize! I really really like this version of me, it kinda showed me a little of what it would be like if I had become a doctor or nurse (which I actually did want to do after my surgery haha). I think I would like to be her the most out of the other Myths

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theyilinglaozus · 3 years

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Oh god I had completely pushed away the fact that JGY married his sister and killed his son, which is atrocious. I do understand that the upbringing and trauma he realized pushed him into that direction but still, as you said, he went a bit too far there. Now that you say it, I also wonder what JZX would have been like as a sect leader. I agree that he would probably have been a great one, we see his mediating abilities in the Qiongqi Path scene between WWX and Jin Zixun, he ALMOST managed it -✨

And don't we all not know how to deal with a crush in our teenage years? I mean I don't know if it's because of my age or my awkwardness or a healthy combination of both, but I literally. Cannot deal with crushes. Just like LWJ. Although I wouldn't pretend to hate my crush, haha. But yeah, LWJ and JZX aren't very different in that matter, if LWJ weren't a Lan and hadn't grown up with thousands of rules and the pressure to not show emotion, he might have acted just like JZX -✨

WWX going full Baoshan Sanren is a concept I've never thought about, but it is incredibly interesting! Though I wonder if it would have worked out, because I'm sure the other sects wouldn't really appreciate even more demonic cultivators, haha. But we'll never know if it would have worked, unfortunately. But question time! What do you speculate would have happened to WWX and the Wens if WN hadn't killed JZX? Do you think it would've ended happily or would there have been an unforeseeable twist?✨

Yeah, Jin Guangyao just straight up murdering his own son is ... 😬 Not that there wasn’t a lot he didn’t do beforehand that wasn’t terrible, but there’s no coming back from killing his own child.

That’s the heartbreaking thing isn’t it? Jin Zixuan was already showing examples of being a great sect leader, mediating what to do and what he did to try and get Wei Wuxian to meet his nephew, likely knowing it would also be an opportunity to try and begin a method of fixing things and figuring out the truth of why Wei Wuxian was protecting the Wens ... ugh. They were so close to possibly heading on a different path before all the murder happened 😢

Oh my god, tell me about it! There are so many things about Lan Wangji that I find relatable, but the way he deals with crushes? Too real! 😆 Wangji, stop calling me out for doing the whole ‘I will care about this person privately and without ever dealing with these feelings I have for them’ tactic, it’s just how we do! And that’s really interesting what you say about how, if he wasn’t born in Gusu Lan he might have dealt with his emotions the same was as Jin Zixuan (or, not deal with them still I guess). I can really see that! Now I’m just imaging that scene where Zixuan stands awkwardly for a while in front of Wei Wuxian and Jiang Yanli before running away, but with Lan Wangji 😂 The poor boys, we love you really! 💖

I’m gunna pop the rest of this reply under a cut, because I (once again!) seem to have a lot of thoughts about the questions you asked, and I reckon my response will get long!

See, I think if Wei Wuxian - for whatever reason - did just end up becoming the Yiling Patriarch and following Baoshan Sanren to some degree, it would have been a lot of ‘this is what people think he’s doing vs. this is what he’s actually doing’. I think there would be the fear of him creating more demonic cultivators (especially since more demonic cultivators do pop up anyway, since we know in the novel Jiang Cheng goes after them and, well. Xue Yang is right there. Actively admiring Wei Wuxian to some extent and wanting his help to bring Xiao Xingchen back) but I don’t actually think Wei Wuxian would teach demonic cultivation. He only learns it himself out of necessity and survival, and I dunno, I sort of feel it’s something he’d not necessarily want to put upon others if they had other options available to them. I can see him teaching disciples about talismans and archery, how to cultivate and help a golden core begin to grow. Plus there’s Wen Ning and Wen Qing, who I like to imagine would also maybe pass on some of their own skills - healing and medicine for Wen Qing and perhaps fighting methods from Wen Ning.

I also kind of feel it’s something Wei Wuxian wouldn’t actively set out to do, but that younger disciples would come to him wanting to learn from him anyway. Especially Wen Yuan, who we know adores Wei Wuxian 😍 I once saw an idea that maybe disciples of Wei Wuxian are really rare and tend to hide because of the stigma of their sect and what the cultivation world thinks of them, but they often wear a red ribbon in their hair as a little nod to him which is adorable. I love that sort of thing.

Had the Wens’ lived and Jin Zixuan didn’t die ... oof. I am loving this question because it is such a good one!

I honestly don’t know if things would have ended happily. I’d like to imagine they would, but I also feel that something else would have likely happened. It just feels like such a big point in the story that carries so much importance along with it that somehow, tragedy still would have struck (that or I’m just being extra with my love for tragedy and angst once more) 😛

I ... actually think that Wei Wuxian still would have ended up dying, and the reason for that is a mix of both his loss of golden core and how his health was being affected at the time of protecting the Wens anyway. The story makes it very clear to us that his demonic cultivation is pulling a lot on his physical and mental health, and that Wei Wuxian is likely becoming thin and malnourished from lack of eating properly due to food shortages. He’s already got a history of starvation from his days on the streets which is not good, and given what he’s gone through in a short span via loss of golden core, being thrown into the burial mounds and left to die, having to feed on the dead to survive, taking up an unnatural cultivation practice in order to survive and then coming back and having to eventually face the burial mounds again but this time in an aim to create a new home for those that have no other place in the world? There’s a lot of strain being put upon his body in a small amount of time, not to mention a lack of really understanding the new limitations to his body.

The story makes it very clear that golden core transfusion has not been done before for good reasons, and although Wen Qing is a good doctor and likely one of the best of her time ... she doesn’t even really understand what comes next for him. I imagine she’d be watching him to make sure he was alright, but given the stress of what was going on and Wei Wuxian’s own flaw in not telling anyone the truth of anything about how he’s feeling or what he’s been through, she’d be struggling with a thing that has no guideline to follow. And because Wei Wuxian is keeping this important piece of information close to his own heart and would likely take the truth to the grave so as not to hurt his brother, it’s not like he feels he can go to his siblings or Lan Wangji and say ‘hey, so my golden core has gone and my bodies kind of been put through the ringer since then, I don’t really know if I’m healthy or very much need some help?’

I guess my happy, dream scenario is ‘Wei Wuxian stays with the Wen’s, teaches some baby cultivators and over the years builds secret relations with the Jiang sect, Nie Huaisang, Jin Zixuan, potentially Lan Wangji and Lan Xichen to some degree’. Maybe when the truth comes out or is learnt the relations become more overt, until eventually his own tiny sect becomes a little more welcome in the cultivation world - likely after learning he’s still more of an asset to them than any real threat.

But my more realistic, angsty scenario is ‘Wei Wuxian dies from a multitude of complications - mainly golden core loss and his cultivation practices but also lack of looking after his own health, the world is still led to believe lies and stories are spun that he died from his use of demonic cultivation, making him a warning tale for others’.

What about you, CC? Do you have any scenarios or ideas of what could have happened if things had gone differently at Qiongqi Path?

#replies #anonymous #classified cultivator ✨#mdzsnetcc #you get a beast of a response today cc!#mainly because i left this message overnight to think about #which ... opened pandora's box of ideas for me #😅 oops!#also - you made me think about the similarities between wei wuxian and baoshan sanren #which has been on my mind a lot since rewatching early episodes whilst gif making

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mirrorfalls · 3 years

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Lego Liveblogs ST: TOS, part 25 (of who-the-hell-knows-how-many?)

Depending on how far you want to stretch the term, so far we’ve seen the Enterprise crew visit anywhere from one to a half-dozen self-proclaimed “Paradises” - none of which really lived up to the name. Will This Side of Paradise be any different? Let’s find out.

* A surprise group of survivors on a mission that was supposed to have ended in disaster? Now where have we seen that before...? * And the Head Colonist instantly brushes off the slightest concerns! Another strike. * “We have harmony here. Complete peace.” Aaaaand strike three, you’re out. Tell me you have an interesting Purge Night, at least. * So this is the show’s first Spock’s-old-flame story - and with Pon Farr still months from being dreamed up. Expectations suitably lowered. * “There seems to be a total absence of life on the planet, with the exception of the colonists and various types of flora.” Like with Shore Leave, I’d like to ask what’s pollinating all the flora, but I get a feeling I’m going to regret finding out. ** “There's enough [crops] to sustain the colony, but very little more.” I’m not sure this works all that well as a red flag, though - these colonies are all supposed to be self-sustaining, it’s not like they have a market to take their surplus to. * Nono, wait, don’t tell me, there’s a giant Evil Computer keeping them all healthy in exchange for monthly sacrifices, isn’t there? * “What you're describing was once known in the vernacular as a happiness pill.” Maybe on Vulcan, but I believe Earth calls it drugs, Spock. * Okay now I remember what Tumblr imageset I first saw this episode through and I cannot wait to get to that scene * You know, I don’t think Kirk ever got this angry at Spock when he was committing literal, death penalty-tier treason with the entire ship. * Huh, Kirk can resist the LSD flowers for... some reason. Okay, I guess we need someone to carry the back half of the plot. ** All the same, dude, might’ve been a good idea to pack a Phaser. * Uhura does a damn fine HAL 9000 * Anyway - this is Kirk well and truly alone, and even if Tumblr’s already spoiled me on how he wins the day, it still comes off as a bigger challenge than even Khan or all the God-Aliens the ship’s run into so far. Extra points for the worldbuilding behind it all, which actually stands up to more than five seconds of scrutiny. * “Man stagnates if he has no ambition, no desire to be more than he is.” Okay, this is a decent slice of the Kirk we saw in Space Seed, with all the y’know-was-the-abusive-megalomaniac-really-that-bad? bits thankfully shown the door. * Unironically: this is the closest the show’s come so far to making me cry. ** (Even if some small, South Park-addled bit of my brain can’t stop thinking of this as a Hard-Hitting Metaphor for Shatner driving away all his costars in real life.) * And our big counteractant to the LSD flowers is... Strong Emotion! In other words, this whole ep is another fucking remake of The Cage! ** (There are also the Implications of Kirk’s all-important emotion trigger being a Starfleet medal, which I’ll leave you to decide for yourselves.) * “Aroused, his great physical strength could kill.” Hurhurhurs to your left, folks. ** But seriously - I think Kirk could’ve gotten some quicker mileage out of talking Uhura into putting the ship’s comms back so he can radio Starfleet HQ for backup. Tell her you’re recruiting more settlers if you have to! ** Or just punch out Spock’s lady-friend to trigger his “ThE WoMeN!” instincts * Oh, well - a pipe worked well enough against Khan, Spock shouldn’t be that differ- ** I WAS WRONG I WAS HORRIBLY WRONG * Okay, I know there’s no way they’re actually going to kill Kirk, but couldn’t they have waited more than two seconds after the ad break to deflate all that tension? ** (Also left for you to decide yourselves: whether this episode is out to teach the, er, moral of “It’s okay to be racist for a good cause!”) * Miss, this is Very Sad and everything, but have you considered that maybe Spock just doesn’t like you without drugs fucking him up? ** In all seriousness, though - I do have some sympathy for her. Of all the planets Kirk and co. have visited and “fixed”, this is probably the most innocent one yet; no, it wasn’t nice of the settlers to drug the crew and induct them into the commune, but it’s not like staying on the planet poses any actual danger to them. If Kirk was willing to give Khan a slap on the wrist and leave him to his own planet last ep, the least he could do is the same for these guys. * Aaaanyways... let’s watch this idyllic little co-op meet the fate all co-ops meet within six months. Tops. ** (If all it took to break the LSD flowers’ hold was an annoying noise, couldn’t Kirk have just played a tape of Lieutenant Riley’s singing for everyone?) * And here’s the Bones scene. Somehow I didn’t realize ‘til now it’s not Kirk who gives him the “we don’t need you, not as a doctor” talk. * Welp, for better or worse it’s all ended now. Ended with an extra dose of Sunday School on top. And these guys didn’t even walk out with astounding new knowledge about the Universe, so I’d say Adam and Eve got the better deal. ** ... so you guys did take a sample of those flowers along to research all their miraculous health benefits, right? Right?

As a suspense/thriller exercise it ain’t half-bad, and I stick to my opinion that Kirk strolling a completely empty Enterprise at the halfway point is quite possibly the most haunting scene we’ve gotten out of the show so far, but like so many other promising eps, the back half doesn’t quite deliver on the setup. Instead of building to a moral or theme in any satisfactory way, we get a quick Deus ex Machina punctuated with a big Kirk-Spock punchup that - if sources are to be believed - Season Two will do better, anyway. Evens out to a maybe-watch on a rainy day.

Next: The Best Episode, according to at least three VIPS on this show... after a week's intermission, because your humble rewatcher is about to get mutilated by the Bar. Later.

#Lego Liveblogs Star Trek #Star Trek: The Original Series

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k-pop-imagines · 4 years

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Aurora || Chapter 2

> Aurora Masterlist <

Pairing: Park Seonghwa x OC

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: none

A/N: This is probably the longest chapter of anything I have ever written, wow. Seonghwa makes his first appearance in this chapter, that’s all I’m going to say. I hope you enjoy! - Admin Soomi

° AUFREGUNG °

-> excitement, anxiety, commotion

When she woke up the next morning and took a look in the mirror, she could only sigh at her appearance. Her mother was only joking at dinner but after a night of restless sleep, the circles under Yeseul’s eyes seemed a lot more prominent than usual. She put on a light layer of casual makeup to hide the fatigue on her face.

Her mother had already left for work and even though it was very early in the morning, she had left her a reassuring note, a lunch box, and a small plate of fresh pancakes on the kitchen table. She hadn’t eaten those in ages! Her father used to make them every Sunday but after moving to Seoul, eating pancakes became nothing more than a pleasant memory. Yeseul dug in and despite her stomach demonstrating a little because of her nervousness, she tried to enjoy her special breakfast as much as she could. They were different than the ones they ate in Germany, but she appreciated that her mother had taken the time to prepare them for her.

After finishing her meal and once more making sure that she looked presentable, she went on her way to the agency. Lucky for her, the building was only a few subway stops away from her home so it took her about 20 minutes to reach her destination. The first thing she noticed, was the 7/11 on the ground floor next to the agency’s entrance. That would surely prove to be convenient.

Yeseul hesitated at the door that would lead her to KQ Entertainment. First, her excitement and anxiety were fairly well balanced, but within a few seconds, the latter doubled and overpowered her. This was her dream but all the doubts and worries she had managed to push away last night, came crashing down on her again. She closed her eyes for a second and took a deep breath. Before she could let her thoughts get the better of her, she pressed the doorbell. No turning back now.

“Hello?” “Uhh, hello. I’m Hwang Yeseul and I have an appointment for 8 am.” God, why did that sound she was here to see a doctor? Stop overthinking, she quickly reprimanded herself. “Ah, yes! Come up please.”

The door buzzed and she hesitantly entered the building. The stairway she found herself in was bright, mostly white and grey but a few potted plants made sure it didn’t look too sterile. She walked up to the 3rd floor where she was greeted by a man who introduced himself as Kang Haejun, the same person she had talked to on the phone last night. He was a head taller than her, a bit chubby and addressed her with a warm smile that reached his eyes. “Welcome, I’m glad to see you! Please follow me, the CEO is ready to talk to you.”

Yeseul followed him through the office. She politely greeted a few people but didn’t have a lot of time to look around. The place wasn’t very big but she assumed they occupied more than this one floor as she hadn’t seen any practice rooms or studios yet. At the far end of a corridor, Mr. Kang knocked on a door and sent her inside after getting a short “Come in.” from the other side.

She carefully entered what she realized to be the CEO’s office and closed the door behind her.

A man behind the desk stood up and motioned for her to sit down. As soon as she took her seat opposite him, she suddenly felt very vulnerable. The CEO seemed like a friendly man but he was still the person who would be in charge of her future, whose hands she’d be putting her career in.

“I’m Kim Gyuwook and as you’ve already heard, we want you to train under our agency. I’ve got the contract prepared but I’d like to discuss the conditions and rules with you beforehand. It’s also very important to me that I get to know my trainees a little before I allow them to start training. So, I have a few questions.” Yeseul nodded shyly and he continued. “Don’t be nervous, though, I won’t interrogate you.”

He pulled out a piece of paper which she recognized to be the profile she had sent in with her application.

“Your profile says you speak English, German, and Korean fluently.” “Yes. I grew up bilingual, my mother is Korean and my father German. I also started learning English at a very young age.” "Do you speak any other languages?” “I learned French in school but I don’t speak it too well anymore. I forgot everything except for the basics after graduating, to be honest.”

The CEO let out a small laugh. “I feel like that’s a common theme for French learners somehow.”

He took a few notes before going on.

“Are you working right now or studying at university?”

“I currently work part-time at a convenience store. I already talked to the owner and I can schedule my shifts in a way that they wouldn’t coincide with practice hours.”

“That’s good. Now, why exactly do you want to become a trainee, or rather, an idol?”

She knew that question would be asked eventually and she had thought about how she would answer countless times before. “Back when I lived in Germany, I discovered K-Pop when I was going through kind of a rough patch. The music helped me become a happier person again and inspired me to become a singer. I want to stand on stage and give the same kind of encouragement and motivation to other people.”

“I’m sure you’re aware that this won’t be easy. You might not actually debut anytime soon. In fact, there’s a chance you might never debut. It all depends on you and your determination.”

“I’m willing to go through it and take the risks if it means I get to do what I love and dream of.”

“Very well.” He gave her a satisfied smile and moved on.

“It’s not a secret that all entertainment companies have a variety of rules for their trainees to follow and we are of course no exception. They are all mentioned in the contract but I would like to go over them with you so that there won’t be any misunderstandings.” Mr. Kim handed her a list of regulations and explained each of them thoroughly.

Yeseul was allowed to have a cellphone but usage during classes and schedules was not permitted. She was also not allowed to post on social media from now on.

Trainees were not allowed to date at all and artists had a dating ban until two years after their debut.

However, they didn’t care too much about keeping their male and female trainees apart, unlike other companies she heard of that wouldn’t even let them be in the same room together. “You know, how it works. If you forbid them, they will try to meet in secret all the more. There’s nothing wrong with making friends but if we do notice anyone getting too distracted though, we will take appropriate measures”, he explained.

No smoking, drinking, or taking drugs. That one was fairly obvious.

The part she was wondering about the most was the weight regulations. “There will be weekly weigh-ins. There is a weight range stated in your contract that you should stay in. We expect our trainees to be able to take care of appropriate calorie intake and healthy workout on their own. Unless you exceed that range or fall below it, we won’t be regulating your diet or putting you on a work-out routine.”

She considered that a fair amount of freedom.

Yeseul also had the choice to move into a dorm with some of the other female trainees but she decided not to as she didn’t live too far away from the company anyway.

“Now, let’s talk about your training schedule. I don’t think I need to tell you that your vocals are great. There’s always room for improvement but you already have a good technique and stability.” Yeseul had taken singing lessons for a few years and actually felt fairly confident when it came to that. She dreaded what she knew was coming next, though.

“However, your dancing is lacking.” She looked away in embarrassment. She had made sure to practice and learn a few basics before auditioning but she was well aware that she was definitely not very talented.

“There’s potential, don’t worry. It’s nothing our dance teachers can’t fix. Some of our trainees started out way worse and managed to become decent dancers. You’ll just have to practice a lot more than others. Which is why you will also be taking more dance classes than singing classes to get you on one level with the others.”

That made sense. “In addition to that, you will also be taking Japanese, acting, and modeling classes. Evaluations are once a week, every Saturday, and you will be recording demos in the studio every second week. Lessons in general start at 2pm every day as most of the trainees still go to school in the morning but you can practice on your own at every time of the day. Sundays are off.”

He slid her a piece of paper with her schedule. Today, she would have vocal lessons at 2pm and dance lessons from 4pm to 8pm but as there were evaluations, she would only be watching and starting the real training on Monday.

“Be aware that if you don’t meet our expectations during evaluations or break any of the rules, the contract will be terminated.”

She voiced her understanding and after a few more questions from the CEO, he handed her the contract and showed her where to sign. She read through everything twice as he watched patiently, then signed, ready to start this new part of her life.

It was almost 10am when Kim Gyuwook dismissed her from his office with a handshake and wished her good luck. She still had a few hours until vocal lessons were supposed to start so she contemplated going home and taking a nap when Kang Haejun walked up to her offered her a tour around the agency. She gratefully agreed.

He showed her around the office first, introducing her to a few people she would regularly be working with personally. Everyone was busy but still found the time to give her at least a friendly smile or wave. Just like she expected, KQ Entertainment occupied multiple levels of the building. The 3rd consisted of the office and various meeting rooms. He then led her down to the 2nd floor where the practice rooms and studios were located. She couldn’t take a look inside any of the rooms yet as almost all of the trainees were busy practicing for the evaluations but she made a mental note on where she would find the rooms later. There was also a small kitchen and break rooms with sofas on both of the floors. While showing her around, Mr. Kang also answered any other questions she had.

He told her that they were currently training a total of 7 trainees including her. They had about 12 male trainees but apparently, eight of them were already training separately as they would be debuting as a group sometime in the second half of the year. He also let her know that she was actually one of the oldest trainees, being born in August of 1998. It made her worry a little. She knew that most trainees started their training at a way younger age. She was 19 years old now, could that be considered too old already? Would it lower her chances of debuting? She decided not to worry too much. If she was too old they wouldn’t have accepted her in the first place.

After the tour, more detailed explanations and an extensive Q&A session it was almost 12pm. She felt a little bad for taking up Mr. Kang’s time but he reassured her that it was actually his job to introduce the new trainees to everything and make sure they felt comfortable. He also gave her his number and told her to contact her if she had any more questions or worries before returning to his office.

It didn’t make sense for Yeseul to go home before practice anymore. She remembered the lunch box her mother had packed her but decided to save it for later as she didn’t really feel like eating because of her nervousness. Still, she should eat at least something small, so she decided to head down to the convenience store to get a snack, something to reward herself taking this important step and to maybe even calm her nerves a little.

The young woman headed downstairs into the 7/11, where was greeted by a friendly, elderly man. She bowed with a smile before she started browsing.

As she walked through the narrow aisle, looking for an appropriate snack to celebrate today’s events, a group of boys entered the store. “We should get some chips for later!” “Aren’t you on a diet?” “Hyung, don’t be like that! I’ll just work out extra hard next week.”

She scanned the shelves and couldn’t help but quietly snicker at their bickering. She looked over at them for a second, counting three young men. Yeseul didn’t pay them too much attention, even though they were hard to ignore, and instead continued her search. Just as she was about to grab a chocolate bar, her eyes landed on the freezer. It was February, still cold outside, and she had just been told about the weight regulations. Was it really appropriate to buy ice cream now? Yes, it is, Yeseul decided. It was one of her comfort foods so she shrugged, opened the door of the freezer and reached up. Whoever had put her favorite ice cream on the highest shelf surely must hold a personal vendetta against her. She wasn’t tiny, only a few centimeters under average height but this was troublesome. Just as her fingertips brushed against the plastic packaging, a figure next to her reached out and handed the sweet treat to her. Yeseul’s face lit up in excitement and she quickly bowed to the kind stranger. “Thank you so much!” When she looked up, she was met with the shyly smiling face of a man around her age, part of the group who had caused the commotion. He seemed quieter than the other two though, who she could still hear arguing over which snacks to get.

“It’s not a problem. Is Melona your favorite?” His was voice soothing and hinting curiosity even though he was nervously rubbing his neck. She nodded eagerly in response. “Yes! It’s the best thing to eat when you want to celebrate, even when it’s cold outside…” She mentally scolded herself for rambling. She couldn’t help it, the sudden inquiry surprised her. Not that she minded, he seemed friendly and wasn’t overbearing at all. Yeseul could see he was about to ask what exactly she was celebrating but his two friends interrupted him.

“Seonghwa-hyung, I will buy these chips now and you can’t stop me.” One of them said as he headed to the counter to pay. The other one motioned for your savior to come over as they were getting ready to head out. The stranger, apparently named Seonghwa, gave you an apologetic smile, you bowed and wished each other a good day before he left with his friends.

Could it be that they were trainees as well? All three of them looked awfully handsome, they talked about dieting and working out, and went shopping right at this store. The fact that they were also dressed in sports clothes led her to make that assumption. At the same time, it could have just been a coincidence. At the latest, she’d find out if she ran into them at the agency.

#seonghwa imagine #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa scenario #seonghwa fanfiction #ateez x reader #ateez imagine #ateez scenario #ateez fanfiction #seonghwa #park seonghwa #ateez #aurora #kpop #k-pop #kpop imagine #k-pop imagine

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kingofdirtandnothing · 4 years

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wemultitudinous asked: kiss meme - 31. a kiss on the palm, from alexander for john

Kiss Meme: (Perpetually Accepting)

John knows it’s going to be a shit day from the second he opens his eyes. He wakes up with the heavy bruising in his chest thumping like a second heartbeat, and he’s got nothing to blame his misery on but chemicals. He knows, he knows he should see a doctor. But the thought of his father hearing the word bipolar bandied about is enough to make him swallow all of that bitter pill down and just keep on keeping on.

It works, most days. But like he’s been summoned by the sour thought, his father calls and asks how’s that vacation going, Jack and John wants to curl up and die. And just because it’s destined to be the day from hell from eight in the morning, his mother’s voice flows faintly into the background and she asks if there’s any special girls in his life.

By the time John gets off of the phone, it’s nine in the morning and he can’t bring himself to do anything else. So he puts his phone on silent and gets right back beneath the covers, pulling them over his head and hiding away.

He doesn’t sleep well, but he sleeps long, a couple of uncomfortable dreams like disconcerting shapes beneath the waters of his mind.

At six in the evening, he wakes with a dry, chalky mouth and the kind of lethargy that comes with too much sleep. He’s got a couple of texts from Herc, two from Lafayette, and a less than surprising eleven from Alexander. John can’t help it. He ignores them all and sends a group text instead that says ‘drinks on me tonight’.

It’s enough to at least drag himself out of bed and into the shower, though John can’t force himself to dig out the nicer clothes in the back of his closet. He settles on ratty jeans, soft as his blankets and a big University of South Carolina hoody that’s been washed so many times that the grey is almost blue. With his hair up, he’s basically presentable. It’s not like he’s trying to get laid or anything.

The place is closer to upscale than Alex and Herc would like, but John is the one footing the bill, and he sends the address along with ‘I’m already here’. A little bit of whiskey before his friends got there would be enough to take some of that miserable weight off his chest, and make it easier to breathe.

It’d make him a little easier to be around. God knows he’s not always the best company, but he tries for his friends. They deserve that much.

So he’s two whiskeys in and feeling a little looser, a little warmer by the time his boys make it through the door. It only makes sense to buy the bottle, to save them a bunch of trips up to the bar. John tips good, gets a rare, honest smile from the guy behind the counter for it before he weaves through the growing crowd to the booth that has been claimed in the name of their bro-hood.

John pins himself between Alex and Herc, lets the comfort of elbows banging against his and knees against knees knock loose some of that lingering pressure in his chest. The conversation is good, it’s easy, and even John gets lost in the depths of it before Herc catches him just above the elbow and drags him out onto the dance floor.

He loves to dance. His mom snuck him to some hiphop classes when he was a kid, and he can salsa pretty damn good. But it’s not about that here. It’s about bass so deep he feels it in the middle of his teeth. It’s laughing so hard at Herc getting down with a girl that John chokes on his own spit for a minute.

And it’s Alex being drunk enough to move from body to body, plastering his back against John’s front without actively realizing it was him, smooth rolls of his hips that have his ass bumping against John and he’s warm in all new ways now.

But just like always, any time he works up the nerve to think about getting a hand on Alex, his friend is weaving back through the throng of drunken bodies to sink back into the booth. Which leaves John with a pretty redhead Latina grinding on him, who delights when he answers her in Spanish and gets his hands low enough on her hips that if she had a boyfriend, he’d be coming to kick John’s ass.

She says meet me in the bathroom, and John thinks about it for a half a second. It’s been awhile since he’s hooked up with anybody. But he knows that any day that he feels like this, he’ll feel worse in the morning when he’s met with a hangover and a cold bed. So he tells her sorry, mami and shrugs, moving on to dance with the next person to ease into his space.

John just happens to look up from where he’s grinding on Herc’s last dance partner to catch a glimpse of Lafayette and Alexander in the booth. Pressed together. Lafayette’s head bowed and lips so close to Alex’s ear that it looks indecent. But it can’t be. It’s got to be a trick of the light. John laughs at himself for being stupid and turns his attention back to dancing, going out of his way to bump his ass against Herc’s just to get that loud ‘Hey!’ he likes so much.

He shouldn’t look back. But it’s niggling at him, a hangnail of the mind that he can’t shake. John looks up and sees Lafayette striding into the bathroom, shooting a come hither look over his shoulder. To Alexander.

To Alexander, who is following him into the bathroom with those same dark eyes and flushed cheeks he got when he was getting the good sexts.

“Fuck.” It feels like the floor has dropped out from underneath him, the walls undulating sickly all around him. John untangles himself from the girl with her arms around his shoulders, her call of dismay soft to his ears, like he’s listening through cotton.

See, there’s this narrative about John. That he’s impulsive, that he’s reckless. He doesn’t think things true. But that’s not really the case. Even as he cuts through the middle of the dance floor, elbowing between people, he knows what he’s doing is wrong. He’s fully fucking aware what opening that bathroom door is going to do to him. He does it anyway.

“Oui, lá, s’il te plaît—”

The words hit him before the image does. For one dizzying second, all John can think about is how thick Alex’s voice is. What he must look like with his head throw back and-

-and that’s when reality sinks in. When he sees the familiar pair of knees in front of a pair of sneakers he’d watched Alex use his duct tape to fix the toes not even a week ago. If John thought he felt sick before, it’s nothing compared to now.

John turns and walks out of the bathroom without a word, bumping into a guy’s shoulder on his way. There’s more words, cottony and drawn out and distant, but the feel of a big hand shoving him from behind snaps the world back into crystal clear focus.

He knows what he should do. Walk away. He knows what he won’t do. Petulantly, peevishly, he wishes he was the one fucking somebody in the bathroom. That he could lose himself to that kind of physicality and feel better for it.

This was the only kind of touch his body responded to anymore, and that thought is enough to have the stoked fire in his belly surging to life, fanned to flames by the fucking injustice of it. That Lafayette could so casually have what John has wanted for so long that he’s malnourished for needing it.

The first punch lands, and this is better than most of his fights, because this asshole can actually scrap. They’re a pile of limbs and sharp blows raining down, and by the time they’re pulled apart by security, John’s snarling smile is painted red, blood dripping down his chin. “Fuck you, man! Fuck you!”

And maybe it’s less about fuck you to the random asshole in the club, or the bouncer hauling him out by the torn collar of his old school hoody. Maybe it’s more saying fuck you to the world. To his stupid heart. To Alexander Hamilton.

Who has a kind of radar, barreling out of the back door of the club so soon after that John’s still breathing hard. Alex’s cheeks are pink high up on the apples of them, his mouth kiss bruised and soft. For one wild, terrible second, John wants to hit him.

Alex is talking to him. Alex is always talking, and John can’t hear a fucking word of it over the rush of blood in his ears. All he knows is that Alexander is taking his scuffed hand and lifting it to press a gentle kiss to the meat of John’s palm, where he’s had the skin scraped away from landing on the concrete when he got bounced out.

John yanks his hand back, that sweet touch hitting harder than any fist that landed on him tonight. “Don’t fucking touch me.” It’s a snarl. Later, when the anger falls away, he’ll replay that wince on Alex’s face until he’s screaming into the bunched fabric of his pillow. But for now, he’s too fucking furious to think.

Somehow, some way he stops himself from spitting out I don’t want Lafayette’s spunk on my fucking hand but it’s a close thing.

He’s out of control, out of breath, shoulders heaving with each breath. “I’m good.” He’s not, but he grits it out between his teeth all the same. He’s been lying to his parents for years, why not start lying to his friends now?

“I’ll get my own ride. Go back inside.”

#ch: laurens #wemultitudinous | alexander #wemultitudinous #to quote becca here #you ever see somebody break they own heart

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ghostmartyr · 5 years

Text

SnK 120 Thoughts

A Fleeting Moment.

You blinked and missed it.

Is there some sort of deadline that I am unaware of? Because I think this is the second chapter in a row that reads so YOLO that it carries the desperation of a death soon at hand.

Yes, that’s right.

This chapter.

Is a Zekesona.

Maybe it’s because I’m a heartless monster, but my predominant thought throughout this chapter--well, fine, we’re getting to the real one later, but mostly my thought was wow, we’re really just diving straight in to the plot magic.

I’m not going to stop calling it plot magic.

Starting out it might have been a deliberate attempt to avoid the grammar of all things Paths, but at this point... it’s here to make the plot go. Sense is optional.

Zeke, you’re fucking killing me.

Let me. just.

Let me attempt to form words with my fingers. Or my head. Or anything at all. This chapter has beaten me. I read it, I consumed the information, and so help me, I think if I let myself, I would never stop laughing over this.

It’s not funny, it’s just.

This, as we have here, is the pinnacle of everything wrong with letting the Yeager Bros take the wheel of a car that is not only missing seat belts and brakes, but perhaps also a functioning wheel.

In the world that is still sort of maybe occupied by sanity, there’s. Zeke.

Holding his brother’s decapitated head.

While he and his brother have an extended Inception dream sequence to manage the fact that Eren should really be very dead.

Really, I could probably spare a few minutes on that, but I don’t want to, because the logistics of how dead Eren is, exactly, when years have to pass in the plot magic in the seconds it’s been since his head was shot off--

I feel like someone shot my head off.

So okay.

A dream level up, the fight goes on in excruciating slowmo.

Meanwhile, Zeke and Eren are.

Okay, yeah, can’t do it. Nope.

This is not a criticism of the writing, as of right now. Like, I have my severe hysteria because of course Zeke has spent his Inception time growing to surpass the chains the First King adorned himself with, and of course, for some unholy reason, those chains bind Zeke at all despite him rightly pointing out he’s not of the Reiss branch and Zeke not actually being the Founding Titan.

Those are things I am noting, and I am completely failing to have a reaction to them because my entire jaw is in pain from holding back laughter, but that is not my present comment.

My present comment.

Is that these two are fucking morons.

I do not mean that disrespectfully. I mean it with the full sincerity of someone who is absolutely okay with the text making them fucking morons.

But holy damn fuck these kids do not have a clue what they’re doing.

Zeke first meets Ymir Fritz when he nearly dies in an unexpected near-incidental suicide. That’s when he has his first hands-on experience with Paths.

Sorry, plot magic.

So um.

Both Eren and Zeke plan to finally make use of the Founder’s power by showing up at this place. They don’t know that at the time they make their plan, because it’s still new to them, they just know that they’re going to hold hands and stuff and somehow things will happen.

Eren thinks the things Zeke wants to happen are bullshit.

Shocking.

Zeke thinks the things Eren wants to happen are bullshit, despite having no clue what those things even are.

Shocking.

And like.

Neither one is getting what they want, because Eren can’t actually use the power he’s journeyed all this way to get, because if this were a real anime, Zeke would have pink hair of warning. Zeke’s royal blood matters more than Eren having the Titan.

Sort of.

Zeke can dismantle the chains on the Founding Titan that attach to him for some reason, but Eren seems to still be required to pull the trigger. (ETA)

So if Inception-verse did not exist, Eren would have just gotten whatever it is he’s after, which would be bad for Zeke by measure of it not being what Zeke wants, but because Inception-verse does exist, they have all the time in the world, Zeke has the means to get what he wants, only technically he doesn’t really because he still needs Eren to agree with him and that hasn’t happened yet.

All of this work.

All...

Good fucking what.

ALL OF THOSE DEAD BODIES, BOYS, AND NEITHER ONE OF YOU HAS JACK SHIT TO SHOW FOR IT.

SOMEHOW

BEYOND ALL COMPREHENSION

BOTH OF YOU ARE FAILING TO GET WHAT YOU WANT. BECAUSE OF THE VERY SIMPLE FACT THAT YOU NEVER TRULY BOTHERED TO UNDERSTAND THE PERSON OR THE POWER YOU WERE ASKING TO MAKE YOUR DREAMS COME TRUE.

EREN MISUNDERSTANDS THE NATURE OF THE FOUNDER.

ZEKE MISUNDERSTANDS HIS BABY BROTHER.

BOY I’M SURE GLAD WE’VE SPENT THIRTY CHAPTERS ON THE CLUSTERFUCK OF YOUR MUTUAL DECISIONS JUST TO FIND OUT NEITHER ONE OF YOU HAS A FUCKING CLUE HOW TO MAKE ANY OF THIS WORK.

YOU BROKE THE WORLD, FULLY CONFIDENT IN YOUR DUCT TAPE, ONLY TO DISCOVER THAT THE ROLL YOU WERE HOLDING WAS SOME OTHER COLLECTION OF TAPE THAT SOMEONE GAVE A SILVER PAINT JOB.

THIS IS WHY YOU DON’T GIVE CHILDREN GUNS.

THEY SHOOT THINGS.

YOU INCOMPREHENSIBLY DUMB FUCKS.

Once more, this is not a criticism of the writing. I think it’s very fair for Zeke and Eren to be interacting with forces beyond their understanding, and screw it all up badly. In Eren’s case, that force is some weird demigod demon who possibly sold their soul to the devil. In Zeke’s case, it’s the will to live.

Both very confusing things. It is perfectly reasonable for them to be having difficulties.

-pre-corpses screaming in the background, only in slowmo because the moment of Eren’s head being blown off hasn’t actually passed-

-Falco steaming in the dirt-

-all Eren’s friends risking their lives so they might maybe use the Founding Titan to fix this all up-

You can tell Eren and Zeke have a doctor for a father, because their elaborate plan depending on thousands of years of history and starting international incidents fails in the face of basic common sense.

No, I’m not done.

These would be the people who would change the world.

Eren.

This is why, when you were ten, your mother was already telling another ten-year-old to look after you. BECAUSE SHE KNEW. SHE KNEW THIS IS WHAT YOU WOULD CHOOSE TO DO WITH YOUR LIFE.

LO, BEHOLD THE NEW UNDERSTANDING OF CARLA’S TEARS AS HER CHILDREN LEAVE HER TO HER DEATH.

IF ONLY EITHER OF YOU HAD A BRAIN.

I’m sorry, I know I should be making comments on other parts of the chapter, but this is all just so typical, and so blisteringly obvious an outcome, and.

Well, we got a lot of nice shots of Grisha and his family. Yay.

Plus--

Oh.

Fuck.

No no no no no, no, I don’t want that.

The thought occurred that this probably is one of the many functions of the plot magic’s oddness around people remembering things they shouldn’t, and blah blah blah Eren crying at the start of the series, but...

Grisha sees Zeke for a moment. Just a moment, but he taps into their link in the Paths.

If Mikasa goes back to watch the memory of Eren sleeping while he’s supposed to be collecting firewood, I have objections. I don’t know what they are, but there’s a visceral reaction of how dare you if that’s where this is all heading.

But you know, that’s for people who do things like speculation about things that aren’t related to people with the last name Reiss, so not my problem.

Anyway, the flashbacks are not a surprise. Grisha loves Eren. He makes his mistakes with Zeke, and comes to regret them terribly. He becomes a better man, and leaves his obsession behind to hold his new family.

This explains what happens the night he kills the Reiss family very well.

In that moment, he must have felt, so keenly, that this is all his fault. He walks away from the Founder. He leaves his mission. He leaves the power behind.

The walls fall, and in the hands of the Reisses, the Founder can do nothing to assist.

His wife dies.

The obsession returns, and Grisha’s last act is saddling Eren with all of his mistakes. Because he learned from his old ones, but he found that those lessons just destroyed the new life he comes to love. Grisha abandons his cause, and Carla dies. Eldians die. Marley creates more victims.

How many people suffer needlessly because Grisha hesitates?

That’s not a burden he takes to well, and the Grisha in these memories never wanted his last moments with Eren to be what they were. It’s one more piece to the insanity that took hold that night. One more tragedy.

When Kruger gives Grisha the Attack Titan, he tells Grisha to love someone inside the walls. The instruction becomes to make a family, but its root is in love. The important part is that Grisha loves someone. Otherwise, the cycle continues.

Grisha loves his sons. He abuses one and nearly ruins him, and takes the next and loves him properly. That’s the son who rejects the idea that they should all die. He’s been given a life that he understands has glory in even its beginning moments, and understands how horrendous it is that Zeke would remove generations of future moments.

The problem that continues, however, is one that I imagine we’ll be addressing with future flashback episodes.

Zeke loves his little brother. Until time allows otherwise, he takes it for granted that his precious little brother will see things his way. He needs so little convincing to bring Eren into the fold. Even before he knows how much control he truly has, he fully accepts Eren.

He doesn’t know Eren.

Eren knows Zeke, because the truth of Zeke’s heart is in this plan.

He knows Zeke, and doesn’t do anything with that knowledge.

Eren and Zeke use each other to reach this place, and in the end, their failure to be there for one another results in neither one being able to wield the power that their union creates.

There might be love there, but it’s the ruined kind Grisha bestows on Zeke. Control is what matters. Reaching the end is what matters.

“Your wife. You child. Even someone on the street. It does not matter. Love someone inside the walls. If you can’t, we’re doomed to repeat it all again. The same history. The same mistakes. Again and again.”

The mistake Eren and Zeke make is the opposite of the one their father chooses in this memory. He puts his love for his family over his mission.

Eren and Zeke prioritize their mission so deeply that they might as well be strangers, no matter how often they refer to each other as brothers. Of course it’s a disaster.

The audience has been waiting for Eren’s side of this story for years, because we’ve watched him grow up. We’ve watched him struggle and triumph and lose himself, and none of that was enough to establish the train of thought that led to these choices that Zeke is so proud of him for making, so it’s been a known thing to us that he’ll have some sort of eventual reveal (which we’re still waiting on; this chapter just does us the favor of confirming that we are waiting).

Zeke wants to confirm Eren’s mindset before they kick things off, since he has the luxury of time in this space.

He never bothers to confirm Eren’s thoughts out in the living world. Not actively. Eren lies, and Zeke lets it pass as enough.

These two never try to help each other. They use each other up.

Zeke can swear to be there for Eren, can swear to set him free, but he does not see who his brother is, and Eren, knowing exactly what kind of person Zeke is, chooses to ignore that in favor of playing the long con.

They fail.

They fail their family by failing to see them as such, and so fail every other task they sought to accomplish.

The story’s forcing them to deal with that now, since they have so much time, but it is so easy to see why this happens. They’re desperate, and they grab their lifelines, and they decide that if there’s something wrong, it can wait.

In the metaphor, that’s fine. They need to stop drowning.

But they see each other as a lifeline before they see each other as siblings.

Grisha sees Zeke as a tool before he sees him as a son.

The same mistakes, over and over.

Some more familiar than others.

We’ve reached the above thing.

What I’m referencing is that really, all through this chapter my only concrete thought was Eren looks a lot like Frieda. Naturally not greatly evident in the shot that’s actually relevant to why I’m bringing it up. Why should I get nice things.

Like. A lot. To the point where it starts to feel intentional, not the result of my brain linking everything back to the Reiss lands. Eren’s hair doesn’t part like Grisha’s or Carla’s, and conveniently we’ve got the comparisons readily available. He has Frieda’s. The young woman his father took the Founding Titan from.

After a long series of consensual (with heavy sarcastic quotes, yes, but putting that aside for the moment) sacrifices, Frieda and Eren are the first in recent history to have their consent overridden. Frieda’s ripped to pieces by Grisha, and has her family slaughtered by him. Hours later, understanding nothing of either Titan he’s inheriting, Eren takes up the mantle.

Eren first sees Frieda through her eyes, looking in a mirror, and I absolutely know I’m reading too much into this, but give me a sec of indulgence. I rarely get to talk about Frieda in these posts.

Frieda, the one who Eren really does look bizarrely like, is Zeke’s foil.

In the two shots above, we have an older half-sibling using their powers to convince their younger sibling to see the world they want them to.

Zeke’s having his difficulties, but Frieda has none.

Frieda has a loving relationship with her little sister, and touches her head to Historia’s gently.

Zeke bashes his head to Eren’s forcefully.

Frieda loves Historia. She has no reason but love to come and pay her visits. She helps her learn to read, she rides horses with her, and provides her company.

Historia has all those memories taken away. Their relationship only exists on Frieda’s terms until five years after Frieda’s death.

In an attempt to keep this post from turning into me shouting about how the Reiss family is symbolic of the manga as a whole, and Historia needs to come back and rightfully re-dethrone Eren as the main protagonist, I’ll be brief:

Frieda screws Historia up.

She adores her little sister, but in a world without Frieda, Historia is left with neglect and an overwhelming sense that no one wants her to be alive. Frieda routinely takes away the memories that prove that belief wrong. For complicated reasons that a teenager shouldn’t be expected to handle, but Historia’s problems are still actively exacerbated by Frieda forcing her will on Historia.

Eren has more say in what his brother’s trying to pull, thanks to his own plot magic, but we see the problem, with the same dynamic.

Zeke loves Eren.

He can’t see past his view of the world to see Eren well enough to try to do what’s best for Eren.

This is not a collaboration. It’s two people fiercely opposed who have put that argument off until the last possible second rather than approach one another as equals.

Eren’s head is blown off. He’s due to be dead.

Zeke is still trying to rescue him from his own free will.

Love without respect is useless. It’s what turns the emotion selfish.

Idiots.

I’m torn on what this chapter means for future chapters, because I don’t see how Eren and Zeke are moving past this roadblock without finally dealing with the issues that landed them here, aaaand theoretically that means that Eren’s plan wins.

I guess we get to look forward to what that means if that’s the case.

But Eren’s head is still kind of. Not. On his body.

Which makes me think that whatever decision makes it out of Inception, it’s probably going to be one that alters the reality they’re playing with, and that is really hard to do satisfyingly.

Those are problems for another month, though.

I have trouble calling this chapter good, because a lot of it is. well, what did you expect when you chose to do things like this? There’s some satisfaction in the fact that the characters are truly being respected as the numbskulls they’ve behaved as, but that does little to make the overall situation better.

Thankfully, emotional flashbacks pander to my needs directly, so this will be a satisfying trainwreck, but, uh.

Yeah.

Local siblings don’t listen to each other on family roadtrip down memory lane, feat. apocalypse in the background. That is the chapter.

It needs to be drawn as the Renaissance painting it clearly is in spirit.

#Shingeki no Kyojin #SnK 120 #Zeke Yeager #Eren Yeager #shingeki no spoilers #SnK spoilers #spoilers #tl;dr #chapter post

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