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ugh-yoongi · 1 year

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about u | jjk

❝ this song is about a love that you can’t reconcile—wanting to make a home out of a person that has proved to you time and again that they are not a home; they are just a person. it’s about retracing scars, negative patterns, all with the silent belief that moments of communion and understanding might justify months of misfiring and regret. we’re all just trying to get back to that ‘first high’ feeling—an honest endeavor, however futile. ❞

✤ PAIRING jungkook x f. reader ✤ GENRE exes to fwb to strangers, college/grad school au; angst, smut ✤ RATING explicit. minors do not interact. ✤ WARNINGS toxic & self-destructive behavior (inc. jealousy and possessiveness). infidelity (with an external partner). reader is bisexual (which is not a warning but a general statement so the homophobes stay away) and there is a brief mention of coming out. two people who are both too honest and unable to communicate. swearing. cigarettes and alcohol use. kissing, some spitting, fingering, oral sex, protected vaginal sex. every time i asked jess to read this over for me she always came back with "jfc jewel" so i guess this is angsty. unhappy ending. ✤ WORDCOUNT 7.3k ✤ LISTEN TO this was based off of "winterbreak" by muna, but there are bits and pieces of the entire about u album in here, "everything" and "outro" especially. ✤ THANK YOU to muna for writing the album, @the-boy-meets-evil and @hot-soop for reading over this for me multiple times and putting up with all my brainstorming and my beloved @here2bbtstrash for the extra set of eyes. ✤ AUTHOR'S NOTE hi, thank you for reading! i cannot emphasize enough how much more sense this story will make if you listen to about u in the background. i would also like to reiterate that these two are maybe not all that likeable most of the time, but i hope they're still human. as i once saw in an ao3 tag, you are more than the worst thing you've ever done.

[ the first. ] You’d read an article once—something about the second time you fall in love.

It’s going to feel different, it’d said. The first time felt like a dream.

As you stare across the kitchen at Jeongguk, you think that might be true. The part about it feeling like a dream, because it used to be a pinky-lavender haze and everything that has come after hasn’t felt so good. Not a nightmare, but close. At least with nightmares you can force yourself awake. You can tell yourself it wasn’t real. You can pretend.

This is as real as it gets, watching him smile over the rim of a plastic red cup. Someone else’s hand on his arm. The girl it belongs to looks nothing like you, and you wonder if she’ll be the second time he falls in love. You also wonder why you didn’t stay home. You wonder about fault and regret and if either of them even matter. No, you eventually decide: there’s just you in Taehyung’s kitchen and Jeongguk on the other side of it and the result of a million decisions in between you.

There had been a plenitude of reasons you’d fallen in love with Jeongguk, but he’s undoubtedly beautiful. Soft, tinkling laugh; a smile that reaches his eyes. Not all that long ago you used to be responsible for both, so there’s a lingering, bitter sting beneath your wonder. Jeongguk is beautiful and no longer yours, and that’s enough to have you retreating to the living room.

Jimin’s at your side immediately. Wraps an arm around your shoulders and presses a kiss to the top of your head that does little to alleviate your guilt. Missing someone is always easier with thousands of miles in between you. All those distractions. Just like a nightmare, distance lets you pretend. Not so easy to do when all those ghosts come back to haunt you; when you can still hear Jeongguk’s soft voice in the kitchen. The music is so loud but you’d be able to hear him anywhere, you think.

Even places he’s not.

Jimin leans down, forces his way into your personal space. “Are you doing okay?” he asks, and his words are warm and wrapped in alcohol, but you nod. You’re scared you might start crying if you open your mouth. Afraid of what might come out besides shuddering breaths, which just makes you feel stupid. Baby’s first breakup, you chide yourself. Maybe Jimin can get you a commemorative ornament.

Taehyung is turning twenty-four and it should be joyous. It is joyous. People that aren’t you are laughing and dancing and pressing their cheeks together as they huddle close to take selfies. Someone you don’t recognize is cackling wildly as they wrangle Taehyung into a headlock and smear cake frosting on his face. Someone else is tutting and running a rag under the tap to wipe it off and then the frosting is gone. It’s hard not to draw parallels.

There one minute and gone the next.

Gently wiped away.

But the feeling lingers, doesn’t it? The tack of the frosting, all the love that transpired between you and Jeongguk. Sometimes you fear it’s permanent—not able to be wiped away with a rag run under the tap, not able to be wiped away at all. Just this burden you’re cursed to carry, because Jeongguk isn’t and can’t be yours but knowing does nothing to erase the past. Doesn’t help you forget. It’s fucked and it’s unfair, but that’s just the way it goes.

“I think I should leave,” you say, watching another scene play out in the kitchen. Jeongguk fills a cup and hands it to a different pretty girl. Everyone here is so pretty. Makes sense; so is Taehyung. Pretty people are drawn to one another like that. “Is it too soon? Will it be obvious?”

Jimin sighs, wraps you in a hug. Says, “Oh, love,” in a way that’s too sympathetic. Makes you sound too pathetic. “No one will blame you. These things are hard.”

You squeeze your eyes shut. Not that you don’t appreciate Jimin’s reassurance, but sometimes it all feels a bit silly. Weren’t you the one to walk away? Call it off? Are you allowed to mourn the very thing you destroyed?

And Jimin, bless him, is so patient with you. Asks if you need a ride home and you wave him off, remind him your parents’ place isn’t far, that the cold might do you some good. You tell him you appreciate him and his night shouldn’t be ruined on your account, and you just laugh when he tries to protest, tell him to go get himself another drink.

“Text me when you get home,” he says, voice stern, and you brush that off, too. “I’m serious. It’s late and it’s dark and anyone could be out there—”

“Maybe I should walk you home, then?”

All those articles you read about the second time you fall in love didn’t mention this. Said nothing about the way a voice will always be able to turn your world on its axis and how to right it again. Said nothing about how to coexist with ghosts. Said nothing about what to do with all the yearning and the pain and the stupid, selfish strands of hope. There are paragraphs about an overarching, general grief, but nothing about the specific one living inside of you.

The shock on Jimin’s face is reflecting your own. It’s nice to not be the only one caught off-guard and stammering over their words. It’s nice to have a friend when it feels like your entire world is on the edge of collapse. “I don’t…” he begins. Swallows thickly and turns to look at you, an obvious question biting at the back of his teeth.

You know the answer.

You know that what you should say isn’t what you want, just like you know it isn’t fair, this thing you’re doing. Because you turn to Jeongguk and say, “Are you sure?” which might as well be a yes, because you’re selfish and suspended in this liminal space and don’t want him to go home with anyone else. You don’t want him to move on.

He shrugs. “It’s on the way.”

You say okay. Let Jimin help you into your coat, hide his face in your neck as he tells you to be careful, and that stings. You’ve never had to be careful around Jeongguk before. The two of you never, ever hurt one another—until you did. The kind of hurt your heart hasn’t easily forgotten, is still stubbornly clinging to.

Your heart wants Jeongguk, always.

You want Jeongguk, always, so you let him grab your hand, link your pinkies together. You let him lead you out of the house and don’t turn back to see who might be watching. God, you want to, though. Want all those pretty girls to see that he’s leaving with you. Want them to know it’s your name that’s branded on his heart; your name beneath his skin. For once, you want someone to want what you have.

It’s strange. The two of you have been apart for eight months, and there’s a lot of things you might want to tell someone in that amount of time, but you find it hard now. Don’t know where to start, which words to use. Don’t want to say something stupid, because Jeongguk is just walking you home but you’ve assigned a lot of meaning to it, and eight months is a long time to yearn for something and finally get it.

So you say, “You didn’t have to do this, you know,” because it’s something that’s true and easy to say.

Jeongguk doesn’t answer right away. Drops your pinky so he can hold your hand properly—fully, all five fingers intertwined—and squeezes. “Is it weird for you?” he asks, and he doesn’t sound nervous. Almost sounds like he’s smiling a little, giving you shit. He sounds familiar.

“No. I don’t know. Maybe a little.” He asks why? at the same time he passes under a streetlight. Lights up golden and amber. He’s beautiful—“I don’t know. It’s just… I guess it’s just been a long time. We didn’t leave things the best.”—and no longer yours.

The Jeongguk walking beside you is not the same Jeongguk that walked out of your dorm eight months ago, tears staining his cheeks, the smell of a goodbye fuck still clinging to his clothes, his skin, sweat still dotting his hairline. This Jeongguk is sharper, more selfish with his laughter, and you wonder about all the ways heartbreak can change a person. How you’re changed for facilitating it. You wonder if Jeongguk blames you before deciding you’re too much of a coward to find out the answer.

“Was it that bad?” When you look over at him, he’s chewing on his lip ring, trying to bite back a smile. “You’ll have to remind me. I don’t remember.”

You stop walking, jerking forward when Jeongguk is left unaware and keeps going. “That’s not funny,” you say. “Jeongguk, that’s not—I did what I thought was best, okay? I thought I was doing the right thing—”

The smile drops from Jeongguk’s face. “Hey, hey, look at me,” he says, and he’s hesitant to reach out and touch you but he does it anyway. Cups your face in both hands. “I know, it’s okay. That’s just—it’s just life, right? You did what you had to do, babe. It’s okay.”

You did what you had to do, babe.

Did you?

Jeongguk is selfish with his laughter but never his affection, and knowing that feels like an albatross around your neck. You have broken him so entirely, but he’s still kind to you, finds it a worthwhile thing to be.

His eyes go to your lips. Tattooed fingers dimple your face just a little more, dig in deeper. When you dare to take him in, he looks… different. No longer amused, the way he was just seconds ago; now, there’s something dark there. Longing, anger, hunger. Jeongguk looks like he wants to swallow you whole and make you suffer; looks like he wants to cage you beneath him and worship you through the comedown.

I’d let him, you think as you bury your face in the crook of his neck. As you smell the smoke that lingers, the sweat and the alcohol. I’d still let him.

It’d be so easy to press a kiss there. To feel his skin beneath your lips: flushed, still warm from the party, not all daunted by the bitter winter wind biting at your cheeks. As you lean in further, you wonder if it’ll taste the same. You wonder how much can change in eight months and if all those old comforts change, too. If it’s something inevitable.

Jeongguk moves his hands to your waist. Crawls his fingertips beneath your jacket and finds bare skin. Sucks in the smallest bit of air, and you would’ve missed it had it been any other time, but winter is always quiet and subdued. Always smells transitional, something dangerously close to hope and redemption.

And eight months is a long time to miss the feel of someone’s lips, isn’t it, so you think you can be excused for reaching for something you thought you’d never have again.

The first kiss is hesitant, testing; pressed to the spot just beneath his ear. Maybe you don’t know this Jeongguk, but you know the version of him you used to love—the one you still do—and you know the way he’ll sigh. You know the way his hands will grip tighter. You can still hear it, the way you used to kiss him there and he’d say, don’t start something you can’t finish, baby, and the way you’d laugh and always, always finish it. Can still feel the warmth that used to bloom in your chest. The love.

Jeongguk won’t say that now, you know. Wonder if it’d sound more like don’t start something you already finished if he did. He huffs a small laugh, more an exhale than anything, and asks, “What are you doing?”

And you answer, “I don’t know,” because it’s honest. You admit, “I guess I just miss you,” because it’s true.

A war wages within Jeongguk. You can see the storms, the white flags that are close to being thrown out. Can see the way his gaze flits between your lips and your eyes. What he’s looking for, you don’t know, but the storm rages on. And just like real life, just when you think it’s at its worst, there’s a break in the clouds: a tangible beam of silvery-warm light when Jeongguk tangles his hands in your hair, thumbs at the hinge of your jaw. Jeongguk tilts your head back and looks ethereal in the amber glow of the streetlights.

He says, “We shouldn’t,” and you nod, because you know and the anguish on his face is surely mirrored on yours, but when he follows it with, “let me take you home, let me take care of you,” you find it impossible to care.

You nod.

Everything is amber.

Eight months is a long time to go without the way Jeongguk kisses you: intentionally, demandingly, insatiably. He still tastes the same. Tastes like the first time you’d ever dared to kiss him, back at that party freshman year, tongue flavored with cheap liquor. Jeongguk tastes forbidden and feels like coming home.

You couldn’t say how you make it to Jeongguk’s apartment, but the way you stumble over the threshold feels familiar. The way the door is barely locked when Jeongguk crowds your space; picks you up, wraps your legs around his waist, presses you against it, hips moving on their own accord, rutting, all those little sounds spilling from his lips—everything is familiar. This is not just a practiced song and dance but something memorized. Something instinctual. You could be apart from Jeongguk for years instead of months and your body would still know what to do.

He carries you to his bedroom and you don’t think about who else has been between his sheets, because he puts you down so gently. Kisses your lips, your jaw, your neck—all gentle, powder-soft. Sounds like spring when you paw at the velvety cashmere of his sweater, pull it over his head, and he sighs. Feels like he’s breathing fresh life into something he shouldn’t, something long dead, but then you skim along his warm skin and your world is reduced to the way it feels like silk beneath your fingertips.

“I still love you,” Jeongguk whispers against your mouth, his inked fingers toying with the button on your jeans. Pops it open, pulls the denim down your thighs. Doesn’t bother pulling them off, only goes as far as your knees. And it’s uncomfortable, the way it’s bunched there, but the way Jeongguk says, “Fuck, missed you so much,” is so sweet.

Everything happens too fast.

Jeongguk leaves your shirt on. Drags it up and over your breasts and kisses at the newly-exposed skin. Sinks his teeth in, lets it hurt for a second before he laves over the marks. Settles between your legs and coaxes an orgasm out of you with his mouth and his fingers. Speaks his praise into the juncture of your thigh, breathless as he touches himself, strokes his cock with the wetness lingering on his fingers. Looks so, so pretty when he sits back on his haunches and says, “Just wanna look at you,” and makes it sound wistful and longing.

Makes it sound like it means something.

He’s still touching himself, still slicking himself up. There’s a split second where he goes to move and thinks better of it. Looks to the side before looking back at you. The storm kicks up again. “Have—” he begins before he swallows thickly. Dares to look hopeful, even through the squall. “Have you been with anyone else? Since…?”

You haven’t. Tried to, once—another stupid party, more cheap liquor passed to your mouth from someone else’s, but it hadn’t gone anywhere. They hadn’t tasted like Jeongguk; hadn’t felt the same. Two puzzle pieces that fit together all wrong.

Jeongguk has, though. Something you’d heard from a friend of a friend that you weren’t meant to. They’d called it a rebound, and it had bloomed so many ugly thoughts in your head. Five months had passed. Jeongguk was fucking someone else in his bed while you were in yours, torturing yourself over whether or not to tell him happy birthday. Whether it was allowed to or not, it’d stung.

(You had. You’d reworded the text a million times, plucked up all the courage you could find before you sent it. It’d gone unanswered, just like you expected it would, and you thought it was because Jeongguk didn’t want to talk to you. Thought you were digging your fingers into wounds that had yet to heal, so it’d stung but you understood.

But Jeongguk hadn’t answered because he was fucking someone else. Had someone else’s taste on his tongue; was panting someone else’s name into the dark. The embarrassment had been the worst part.)

Still does, if you’re being honest with yourself, so you lie. “I—yeah,” you answer. “Just one.”

Looks like it stings Jeongguk, too. “Right,” he responds, blinking back tears, and he’s got a lot of nerve, you think. “Yeah, okay, I’ll just—a condom. Are you…”

“Jeongguk—”

“Are you sure? Maybe this isn’t…” He huffs. Drops the condom on the bed, hangs his head. “What are we doing?”

You stare up at the ceiling. Nothing up there but the swirls in the plaster. “I don’t know,” you admit. “Hurting each other, probably.”

Jeongguk walks his fingers down your thigh. Grips at your skin, wants it to bruise. Wants you to have something to remember him by come morning. “Sometimes I’m really mad at you, you know?”

“Yeah, trust me, I know.”

He nods. Refuses to look you in the eye now that you’re watching him. “I still love you so fucking much and I’m still so angry. What am I supposed to do with that? What am I… fuck, I thought I was over it. I thought I’d see you and not feel a fucking thing.” There’s fresh ink on the back of his left hand. You hadn’t noticed it earlier, but you notice it now, when he runs his hands down his face.

You also notice the way the atmosphere shifts, the split second in which his heartache bleeds into something else—resolve, maybe. Obstinacy. Like he knows how this is going to end and he’s going to do it anyway. He’s going to find the most painful part and press on it, dig his fingers in, and it’s just an inevitable, foregone thing. Something he can prevent and something he’s choosing not to.

“You fucked someone else,” he sneers. Rips the foil open with his teeth, flashing too white in the dark of his bedroom. Rolls the condom on like it’s an inconvenience. Like you’re an inconvenience. “Was it good? Was it worth it?”

You roll your eyes. Feel the way your breath catches in your throat, because you’re not going to cry. Jeongguk fucked someone else and is vilifying you and it’s hypocritical and ugly and unfair, but you’re not going to cry over it. You’re going to press the gas pedal as far as it can go, say, “Yeah, it was,” and find some wicked delight in the way his eyes squeeze shut, as if it can spare him from the pain.

The two of you used to love each other. Jeongguk used to smile down at you when you were naked beneath him like this. Used to lean in close and whisper that he loved you just as he pushed inside even though you knew, you could feel it in everything he did. Now, there’s no smile. Now, he leans down and spits on your pussy and pushes inside and doesn’t tell you a goddamn thing.

Not with words, anyway.

Because the way he fucks you says it all. Impersonal, desperate, bitter. He grips your hips and fucks into you frenzied and fast. Takes your hand and puts it on your clit and tells you to get yourself off. An inconvenience. Tells you he misses your tight cunt, tells you he misses the way it milks his cock, tells you he misses watching the way you come undone underneath him, but he doesn’t tell you he misses you.

There’s a moment, just after he spills into the condom and stays inside, just catching his breath, when you think he might say it. Might tell you he loves you around the lump in his throat, might apologize, might ask if you two can’t figure it out.

There’s only a moment.

Jeongguk doesn’t say anything. Lets the moment pass. Pulls out and ties off the condom and wordlessly gets up to throw it away. It’s the silence that pisses you off. The disregard. Jeongguk hates you for something you’d lied about doing that he’d done for real, so you can be wordless, too. You can treat him like an inconvenient, cheap fuck, too. You can get up and find your clothes and pull them on and let him watch, words biting at the back of his teeth, and you can tell yourself to feel nothing.

You can say, “You’ve got a lot of fucking nerve,” and not shy away from the resentment in your voice, because it’s properly placed. “You fucked someone else, too, so you’ve got a lot of fucking nerve, Jeongguk.”

Eight months is a long time to miss someone, to play at daydreams. To think of all the things you want to say, the things you’ll do. In not one of them did you think about this: you, fully dressed and stinking of sex, saying, “It’s late. I’ll show myself out.”

Jeongguk, tears glistening on his cheeks, saying, “No, let me—baby, I’m sorry, please—I’ll drive you.”

A shake of your head. Jeongguk doesn’t push it.

Roll credits.

[ the second. ] Jimin wants to talk your ear off about it—the girl you’re seeing.

It’s new and there isn’t much to say. You tell him the two of you met at one of the student showcases put on by the art department and leave off the part about all of Jeongguk’s old friends being there, that he would’ve participated, too, if he hadn’t dropped out after you broke his heart. Leave off the part where you would’ve been there to support him instead, in another life. Leave off the part where it’d just been morbid curiosity: you, not an art student, wandering those halls to see if Jeongguk’s photographs were still framed on the wall.

“Is she nice?” Jimin asks, head nearly knocking into yours as someone shoves by him. “Fucking asshole.”

You nod. “Why would I date someone that wasn’t nice?”

Jimin, perpetually unbothered until he decidedly isn’t, sends you a look that he hides behind the rim of his cup. “Because you’re in your self-destruction era and aren’t thinking clearly.”

“The fuck does that mean?”

“Exactly what I said. You know I’m happy if you’re happy, but…” He pauses as he trails off. Tries to wrap his words in something delicate. “It’s pretty clear you still aren’t over it. That’s all.”

You snort. “That’s all?” you repeat, like it’s some small thing. Like it’s normal and fine.

“I’m sure it’s easier to pretend when the two of you are thousands of miles apart,” Jimin amends, and he must see how you bristle, stung by the callout, because his eyes soften. “Tell me about her.”

She’s beautiful and kind and smart. Smokes clove cigarettes and the smell is always clinging to her skin. You know how to make her come but don’t know what she’s majoring in—fashion, you think, because she’s always holding fabric swatches against your skin. Tells you what suits you and what doesn’t. Tells you which textures don’t work, what’s too warm, and she doesn’t need to tell you what’s too cold because you already know it’s you.

She’s beautiful and kind and smart and has no idea you’re still in love with someone else.

But you can’t tell Jimin that, can you? Can’t tell him about how she’d dragged you to a private corner in the gallery and kissed you breathless; the way she made you come on her fingers; the way Jeongguk’s name nearly slipped out of your mouth as you shook. Can’t tell him that she’s got arms full of art. Delicate patchwork; nothing like the harsh, bold colors inked into Jeongguk’s skin, but it feels the same to trace the lines.

You can’t tell him much of anything, so what you settle on is, “She’s nice—good for me,” and it doesn’t sound convincing to either of you.

Jimin doesn’t call you on it, though. Not again. Instead, he keeps his gaze steady, staring into the fire, the flames dancing wildly when you meet his eye. “You need to be careful,” he says. “You’re going to hurt her, too. Maybe worse than you hurt him.”

“Jimin—”

“Just be careful,” he reiterates, and all you can do is nod. What else is there to do besides wait for the inevitable crash and burn?

And it’s a little unfair, you think, that Taehyung grows older every single year. A little unfair that guilt won’t let you decline the invitations. A little unfair that you can still pick Jeongguk’s laughter out of a crowd. A little unfair that these hometown friends-turned-acquaintances still throw sideways glances whenever someone else touches him, as if he still has someone to answer to; as if they’re expecting something.

An hour. You’ve survived an hour longer than you did last year, and it’s not much but you’re still proud of yourself. You’ve had a drink, talked to someone other than Jimin. Managed to ignore the way Jeongguk is ignoring you; the way he immediately leaves a room as soon as you enter. Maybe it’s better like this, you reckon. Maybe it’s what you need.

An hour is long enough. Jimin doesn’t comment on the way your bones crack when you stand to leave. No one needs a reminder of growing older. He doesn’t ask if you’ll be okay, either; if you need a ride home. Instead, he stays quiet as he studies you, clearly wondering if lightning strikes twice. If you’re going to be able to walk past Jeongguk and out the door without making another mistake.

You can at least make it across Taehyung’s sprawling yard and to the house. You can dodge the sweat-slick bodies and the girls sitting in laps. You can toss your empty cup in an overflowing trash can. You can pretend the eyes on your back are well-intentioned.

You can make it to the bathroom.

Annoying, the way your phone has been vibrating all night only to disappoint you. Irrational. You scroll past the emoji-laden messages, the coy flirting, because they’re from the person you’re actually dating—the person you told you were going to sleep early—and not from Jeongguk. You should feel guilty. You should feel guilty, but the face staring back at you in the mirror doesn’t look guilty at all.

She looks tired. A little beat-down, but that’s life.

Maybe that’s just what happens when you’ve spent the last two years of your life chasing after ghosts.

A knock at the door startles you. Sends your phone tumbling to the floor, screen probably cracked to hell, and you swear under your breath. “Just a minute!” you call out, a little stunned from how threadbare you feel all of a sudden.

Still, the knocking continues, and you’re on your knees on this bathroom floor and all you want to do is cry. You don’t want to be on this floor in this house. You don’t want to keep putting in the effort of maintaining the facades of all these friendships. You don’t want to keep coming back to this town, don’t want to keep being confronted with the harsh reality of all your mistakes.

“Just a fucking min—”

The words die on your tongue, because there Jeongguk stands, all the air in your lungs dissipating at the amount of space he takes up. Even worse when he steps inside and locks the door behind him. You feel like you’re going to drown. You feel like you’re going to scream or cry or both, and you’re still on the floor, still on your knees, and it feels too much like penance when you look up at him. Feels like you’re groveling, praying for forgiveness.

You stand quickly, ignoring the rush of blood to your head, the way your legs tingle. Jeongguk still hasn’t said a word, doesn’t seem like that’s going to change, either, and it’s really all you can do to stay on your feet when everything in you is screaming to collapse.

Eventually, he says, “You’re seeing someone,” and it isn’t a question, not really, but it borders on one. It’s a question and a confirmation and somehow sounds a lot like he’s asking for permission for something.

“I—yeah.” You swallow. “It’s new.”

He hums. Steps a little closer. Leans against the sink. Darts out his tongue to swipe at his bottom lip before he tugs his lip ring between his teeth. “Yeah? Does he treat you well?”

“She,” you correct, and there’s a flash of something in his eyes. Surprise, maybe. Jeongguk, at one point, had known everything about you, but not this. “And yeah,” you add on, barely a whisper, “she does.”

Part of you feels embarrassed. Jeongguk had known everything about you but not this, and you shouldn’t feel embarrassed or guilty but it still sits there in the middle of your chest. Feels like you’ve been keeping secrets. Feels like shame, even though you aren’t ashamed. Feels like you’re awaiting judgment. But the surprise in Jeongguk’s eyes disappears and something else settles in its place—uncertainty, if you had to guess.

“Are you happy with her?”

You shrug. “Like I said, it’s new.”

And Jeongguk is as emulous as ever, because he asks, “Does it feel like what we had?” and you already know the answer is no.

“I’m not sure anything will.”

It’s honest; you hadn’t said it to appease him, but he looks pleased anyway. You’re starting to understand why so many people write about their first love. Why it’s such a powerful role to fill. Because you and Jeongguk are standing in a bathroom behind a locked door, feet apart from one another, and you think, I don’t think there’s anyone I will ever love more than him even though it’s been two years. You think, I don’t think I’ll ever recover from this.

You think, I would try over and over and over again if he asked me to.

Later on, when you’re alone in your childhood bed and your face is streaked with tears, only your shame and guilt for company, you won’t be able to figure out who moved first, but one of you had.

Once upon a time, you had known everything about Jeongguk, too. You could recite his taste from memory, but it’s different this time. He licks into your mouth and it tastes like ash—nothing like the clove cigarettes your girlfriend smokes, but close enough that the parallel burns like acid in your throat. It’s close enough that you can keep your eyes shut and pretend again.

This time there’s no softness to be found. There’s just Jeongguk’s mouth pressed to yours, barely letting you breathe, not wanting anyone to hear. There’s just the sink digging into your back. Jeongguk’s hands gripping at your waist, pulling at the hem of your skirt. There’s the frustration and desperation of two people who love each other but will never, ever get it right.

There’s Jeongguk asking, as he spits into his hand and slicks you up, if you’re going to tell her.

There’s you, already too far gone, saying you don’t know.

There’s Jeongguk asking, as you’re clenching around him and dragging him with you to the edge, if you’d come back to him if he asked you to.

There’s you, already knowing the answer to this, too, saying you would.

But this isn’t that and Jeongguk doesn’t ask. When it’s over, he tosses the condom and does a half-assed job of helping you clean up and he doesn’t ask. He splashes water on his face and fixes his hair and he doesn’t ask. He tucks his cock back into his briefs and zips his jeans and he doesn’t ask.

Jeongguk has one hand on the doorknob and he doesn’t ask you to come back. Instead, he asks, “How long are you gonna keep doing this?”

For once, you don’t have an answer.

[ the third. ] You go even farther away for grad school.

You try to put more distance between you and Jeongguk, more distance between you and all the skeletons in your closet, but you just pack them up in different boxes and bring them with you.

You spend New Year’s Eve chain-smoking in your parents’ back yard—that same brand of clove cigarettes, because hearts are easy to break but some habits are not. Sometimes it’s a comfort to hurt yourself in the same way you hurt others, so you chain-smoke and you don’t go to to Taehyung’s birthday party because you weren’t invited and it doesn’t sting in the same way that it doesn’t sting that Jimin doesn’t call you once you’re home because he hasn’t spoken to you in a year.

The clock ticks down to midnight. Someone sets off fireworks. Absolutely nothing changes.

There are no half-baked resolutions. There’s no hope that this is going to be the year you get your shit together. There’s just you and the bed you’ve made for yourself; the autopilot you can’t—won’t—turn off, because you don’t know where you’re going anyway so you might as well just go wherever it’s taking you. There’s guilt and there’s shame and there’s baggage, but they’re all old friends. Those are old scars.

The sweatshirt you’re wearing doesn’t belong to you, and it does little to protect you from the bitter cold that bites at your skin. Jeongguk doesn’t belong to you, either, but he keeps coming back to you like he does.

“Mind if I sit down?”

You shrug, gesturing to the empty chair beside you. The small fire you’d built is down to its last embers, and it’s what you focus on, because you can’t focus on Jeongguk anymore.

“You weren’t at Tae’s.”

“Wasn’t invited.”

“Oh,” he breathes. “Sorry, I didn’t know. I would’ve—”

“It’s fine. I wouldn’t have gone anyway.”

He seems to hear what you don’t say. I wouldn’t have gone because I can’t be around you anymore. I wouldn’t have gone because I don’t trust myself with you. I wouldn’t have gone because I’ve burned down every good thing in my life trying to keep you. “Oh. Yeah, that—that makes sense.”

He’d texted you. Asked if he could see you. Just wanted to talk, and you’ve never cared much for symbolism, but nearing midnight on New Year’s Eve had seemed as good a time as any to let it go, so you’d said yes. Now, when there isn’t much to say, all of Jeongguk’s flimsy excuses are laid bare. Transparent.

“Was Jimin there?”

Jeongguk nods. “You didn’t know?”

You shake your head. Feels like it’s made of concrete. “No. We haven’t talked since last winter break.”

“Because of—”

How cruel, that you’d confessed to Jimin instead of the one person who deserved to know. “Yeah.”

“I’m sorry.”

You shrug again. “It’s okay. I don’t think it’s permanent, just until I can get my shit together, I guess. Wasn’t fair to drag him into my mess anyway.”

“It’s not that easy,” Jeongguk says, and it sounds like something he wants to be true. It sounds like something he’s said countless times in defense of himself. “We’d—I’d do it if I could.”

“Yeah,” you agree, “of course.”

Silence creeps up again, so you dig another cigarette out of the pack and offer one to Jeongguk that he waves away. “Cloves? That’s a weird choice.”

“Just something I picked up along the way.”

He hears you again: They’re what she used to smoke. It helps me heal to hurt myself with something that reminds me of her. Sometimes I chain-smoke clove cigarettes and I don’t wash the smell from my hands, my clothes, my hair, because it makes me feel less alone.

So he asks, “Was it real?”

“Doesn’t matter,” you answer, flicking the wheel of your lighter, words spoken around the cigarette stuck between your lips. “It never had a chance. Not a real one, anyway.”

“Do your parents know?”

“Know what? That I went away to college and started fucking women?” Jeongguk shrugs. Has the audacity to look embarrassed. “What are you trying to ask me? You wanna know if I keep coming back to you because I’m scared to come out to my parents?”

“No. I don’t know. I just—”

The laugh that escapes you is scorched and bitter. Sounds the way the tobacco tastes. “No, Jeongguk. I keep coming back to you because I keep hoping you’ll ask me to.” I keep hoping you still want me.

“I almost did,” he admits, and you can hear how he swallows around the lump in his throat. “The first time.”

“When you were a dick about me sleeping with someone else? Yeah, okay. You didn’t want me back, you just didn’t want me to be with anyone else.”

He huffs. “How the fuck do you know what I want? You’ve never bothered to ask.”

“Because it doesn’t matter,” comes your response, stilted and practiced. “It doesn’t matter what we want, because we’re just going to keep hurting one another trying to get it right.” You suck in a breath, wipe furiously at the tears on your cheeks. “And we’re never going to.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Then ask.” Jeongguk startles, looks at you with wide eyes. “Ask me to come back for real, Jeongguk, and I will.”

A beat of silence.

Two, three, four.

Someone sets off another round of fireworks. A dog barks. It’s so cold that you can see Jeongguk’s breath each time he exhales, each time he breathes out instead of speaking. All the words he isn’t saying. And it’s exactly how you knew it would go, but it does nothing to tamp down the devastation in your chest.

You’d confessed your transgressions to Jimin and thought your silence to your ex-girlfriend was a gift, that it was sparing her the pain of what you’d done. Now you understand that someone’s silence can be the most vicious thing of all.

[ the last. ] Graduation looms. It’s the last winter break you’re spending at home.

Your therapist suspects you get your compartmentalism from your parents.

They don’t mention it. They see the stack of boxes and your bare bedroom walls and they don’t say a word about any of it. They watch you pack everything in your car and don’t offer to help. They process their grief silently, and when you can’t stand it anymore, you say, “I dated a woman my senior year of undergrad, you know.”

They don’t say anything to that, either, but it feels good to tell them. Feels a little like freedom and reclamation, like you can be who you are in front of others.

When you leave for good, you don’t want to repackage all those same skeletons.

So you meet Jimin for lunch and you take it in stride that everything is weird, that there’s nearly two years of silence to fill. You don’t ask for forgiveness and he doesn’t demand it of you, just asks if you’re doing better. “I’m doing the best I can,” you answer, and it’s human and honest enough that he accepts it with a warm smile.

Jeongguk is more difficult.

There’s no way to neatly box up that kind of baggage.

You’d intended to stop by his apartment to talk, tell him you aren’t coming back anymore. There’s nothing left here for you, you’d told him, and there was a flash of something. A there’s me, isn’t there? that had gone unsaid, destined for the same fate as a million other unspoken words between you.

Because there is him, but there’s also the way you’re desperately trying to claw back into something resembling normalcy. You’d lost yourself when you also lost Jeongguk, and you need to figure out who you are without him. You need to know who you are once you stop running and let your demons catch up with you. You need to hear what they have to say.

Maybe Jeongguk had said it best last year—“It’s not that easy. I’d do it if I could.”—because you’re nothing if not predictable and self-destructive.

You’re nothing if not naked and on your back beneath him, your fingers threaded through his hair as he rocks his hips into you, more tender than you deserve. His lips are ghosting along your skin and every press feels like a brand. Feels like he’s both making a mockery of you and declaring you ruined for anyone who might come after him. Feels like you’ll love him until you die.

(Some version of you must exist outside of Jeongguk’s grasp—outside of his orbit, his bed—but right now, as he twines your fingers together and pins them above your head, you can’t figure out who she might be.)

Eight months had been a long time to think of all the things you wanted to say, and four years is worse. Four years, and you still can’t bring yourself to ask him to try again, but there’s nothing after this, nothing to lose, so your voice is hoarse and raw when you say, “Jeongguk,” and he groans a little, nips at the column of your throat because he loves the way you say his name. “Jeongguk,” you repeat, because he senses the urgency, hears what you aren’t saying.

“Yeah, baby, say it. Whatever it is, tell me.”

He rolls his hips faster. Before, he would’ve tried to prolong the ending, but he’s hurtling towards it now. There’s nothing after this, you know, but you need the confirmation. You need to finally put all of this to rest. “I want to—” His cock strokes someplace that whites out your vision. “Fuck, want to—want you to come with me.”

He laughs, full of himself, probably smirking out the side of his mouth. “Keep squeezing me like that and I will soon.”

“No,” you insist, shocked at the conviction in your voice, “when I leave. Come with me.”

Everything slows. Jeongguk pulls back, moves his hands to cover himself, and there’s nothing but cold confusion in his absence. “What?”

“I didn’t ask you before. Last year. I just—I left it up to you, and you’re right, I didn’t ask what you wanted, but I didn’t tell you what I wanted, either. But I’m telling you now. I’m asking—”

There was never going to be anything after this.

Jeongguk’s silence says it all.

The way he pulls out and rolls you onto your stomach. The way he fucks as fast and as hard as he can. The way he used to love you openly and honestly and now holds whatever’s left close to his chest like it’s something to be ashamed of.

Someone’s silence can always be the most vicious thing of all.

Roll credits.

thank you so much for reading, and an additional thank you in advance if you decide to reblog my work. as always, my inbox is always open for any feedback! ♡

#jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook x y/n #jungkook imagine #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook fanfic #bts x reader #bts x you #bts angst #bts smut #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts fanfic

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randomalistic · 3 months

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Ok oh my god. OH MY GOD. I just saw treasure planet for the first time and It was fucking amazing. Like yeah Duh I KNOWWW i know it’s like. “underrated Disney movie bla bla it was a commercial failure” . You know the deal.

But if there is 1 thing I want to say:

I cannot emphasize enough how meaningful and touching it is to the audience when you allow your male main characters to cry, and hug, and be emotionally vulnerable without shame. That brought this film to a whole new level 🥺

its a beautiful movie that took so many creative risks and that’s so admirable. It’s so clear they had a vision and they crafted that vision with endless amounts of love :’] I DID CRY.

More rambling below

I was CONSISTENTLY delighted by how creative the characters were and incredibly entertained throughout. So fucking fun and engaging and it feels like a 2 hour movie so much happens. How is it only 1.5 hours.

I CRIED !!!!!!!!!! John Silver and Jim’s relationship was so COMPLEX like actually amazing. The father figure dynamic is so sweet and heartwarming and so heartbreaking simultaneously like I was not expecting that AMV montage in the middle like that shit cut me so deep it was outstanding. A montage about Jim’s troubled childhood with a neglectful absent father and then DIRECTLY PARALLELING THAT WITH HIS RELATIONSHIP WITH SILVER. LIKE HES FINALLY OVERCOMING THOSE FEELINGS AND LIVING HIS LIFE. GODDAMN!!! THATS SO POWERFUL!! THATS SO INCREDIBLE!!! THATS JUST IN THE MOVIE!!!!??!

Also the character/creature designs are RELENTLESS in how good they are. And they have so much fun with it. It’s so silly.

They had an old snapping turtle pirate???? hello?? He was introduced and then he died ❤️

The animation is also MIND BLOWINF like OH MY GOD!??? the seamless integration of 2D and 3D interacting is so impressive especially for 2001 like this was a technological feat for sure . Only rarely does the CG look dated (those whales at the start <\3 poor guys) BUT JOHN SILVER’S CYBORG ARM WAS FUCKING AMAZING LIKE I COUKD STARE AT THAT THING FOR HOURS .

Can’t find a gif of it but during his introduction there was a ROTATING SHOT of him cooking (❤️) while using his arm and his arm has so many tools inside it like a cyborg Swiss Army knife it’s the coolest fucking thing ever. Just Amazing

Also the fact they introduced an entirely new character 53 minutes in when the main cast has already been established was such a risk, but it so paid off. I love B.E.N. The fact he’s fully 3D animated and he’s THAT expressive. WHILE BEING A ROBOT? adorable. He’s Adorable. He’s so mentally ill and strange.

What is wrong with him. He is. dare I say. spamtonlike. pathetic and unhinged. Houses forbidden knowledge. What a Pitiful creature 🧡his glowing CRT eyes are really cute. There was a moment when the lights went out it was only his eyes and I Liked That

I love weird little robot guys in early-late 2000s movies. I need to watch Bluesky robots. I need my fix.

Morph could’ve been a really obnoxious comedic relief animal sidekick but they somehow managed to make him really cute and likable. (Also They only used him for plot points A LITTLE. Turning into anything couldve been overpowered as fuck. But alas… he is a mindless animal...) We love Morph. His relationship with silver is so fucking cute.

Kind of a Delbert centrist honestly. I liked him but also kinda dislike him. Bro kinda gives self centered misogynist scientist vibes. But he’s also silly and self conscious though guyssss.!! I thought I would like him more than I did. BUT He’s animated SO wonderfully though I love the shape of his hands and his weird goat face. Solid 7/10 weird guy. Idk why he came with Jim on the ship though❤️

Captain Amelia was fucking awesome for the first half of the movie. One of the best characters. Yeah. ……………. They fumbled her so hard. MAYBE ITS JUST ME BUT ME AND MY FRIEND WERE NOT A FAN OF HER AND DELBERT AT ALL. Disney was like. We have a competent woman character ! Competent woman has to get injured and then the incompetent man has to take care of her and then they HAVE to fall in love. It’s actually so tragic like they did NOT deserve her.

IN FACT HERE’S MY SCORCHING HOT TAKE: Delbert should’ve been the one to get injured and Amelia nurses him back to health. Delbert might apologize profusely because of his self confidence issues and cuz he internalizes things that go wrong as his fault. Amelia reassures him, realizing that she was too harsh on him earlier. Delbert becomes less intimidated by her because she opens up to him and they grow to trust one another. Amelia stays with him while Jim goes to hide. And whapow !!!! Same relationship is built up without disempowering a female character. It doesn’t even have to be romantic they can just be friends……. 🫶 cuz it comes off as weird because since the start Delbert was like “wtf the captain is a GIRL?? Wait ooh la laaa she’s pretty” and she had 0 interest in him. so like the ONLY way they could pair them together was to get her injured and have him care for her . And she falls in love with him out of nowhere. No. Being cared for does not mean you’ll fall in love with your caretaker. She’s so ace coded to me and my friend. Until SUDDENLY. Am I crazy

Ok so like yeah the forced heterosexual love interest moment. I did not want to see their FOUR (4) hybrid babies at the end. I’m losing my mind. also did Jim become a cop? I swear to fucking god LOL

The movie was SO good that disney didn’t know how to wrap it up without ruining it ❤️ WHICH IS VERY INTERESTING I think they had to compensate for all the risks they took with a safe and weird ending where the police like him now and the police are ok guys. Disney approved

Anyways watch/rewatch the movie right now. Skip the final minute <3

One of my new favorite movies goddamn!

Edit: I would’ve forgiven them if Delbert got pregnant instead

#must watch #treasure planet #txt #movie #film #long post #gif

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underground-boss-clay · 6 months

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OOC: Little Bit of House Cleaning

WARNING: INDIGO DISK SPOILERS WILL BE TALKED ABOUT FREELY.

So this is actually a little overdue because I just kept forgetting to make the post, but FINALLY wrestled my brain down to focus and make this.

SO ANYWAY. LACEY. Game Freak went and gave Clay a daughter IN CANON, and of course, this being an IRL blog for Clay that's going to change a few things (especially given that I gave Clay a kid as part of my headcanons and lore for him in the form of Sigmund).

So what exactly, does that change?

Surprisingly little.

Clay's attitude towards Lacey/any irl blogs of Lacey will be that of a tired single dad who loves his kid to death. He cares very much for her, but also at this point knows better than to become the "annoyingly doting parent" stereotype.

And then there's Sigmund. Fun fact, the dude has been an OC of mine, with the same concept and relations, for about 13 years now. Basically ever since Pokemon BW first came out. Lacey existing doesn't negatively impact his existence--in fact, given the backstory I've given Sigmund, Lacey fits perfectly into the role of being a reason why Sigmund was so against bullies, from just a general sense of protectiveness that went overboard to being an overly protective brother that went overboard.

However, I cannot emphasize this enough: You DON'T HAVE TO interact with Sigmund if you don't want to. You can talk to me in DMs about this if you wish, as Sigmund is an OC and NOT the canon character of the blog. If your version of Lacey wants to interact with Sigmund, cool, great. If not, then he doesn't need to pop up in conversations.

#((OOC))#pokemon irl #House Cleaning #((IDK if that's exactly what these kind of posts are called but eh))#((Will be adding this to the Pinned post as well to keep it up to date))

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imaginationlandtrilogy · 2 years

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Season 20!

thank you! i rewatch this season more than i'd like to admit, so i'm very familiar with the episodes... <3

It's very evident why I like this season. However, when deciding upon a favorite and least favorite episode, it gets kind of foggy because it's so connected, like, the plots are season-wide and they blend into each other.

Favorite Episode of the Season: S20E4 - "Wieners Out" Um. I. Hm. Well. I like the interactions between Gerald and Sheila in this episode. I know the entire season is Gerald-focused (quality stuff), however, I just... really like him in this episode? I feel as if we don't often get to see him interact with Sheila in such a personal way despite being married... because when we do see them interact, it's usually as Kyle and Ike's parents, not as a husband and wife. Sheila is also so sweet this episode... I cannot emphasize that enough. When Gerald comes up with that lie, and she genuinely believes he's into that, she is SO willing to try for him just to make him happy. It's so sweet. I can also say the same for Gerald, and this is going to get into rant territory here, as I often see people claiming Gerald does not love Sheila. He DOES and it genuinely makes me so angry seeing people say he doesn't love her or stuff like that just because of his actions this season. He did not go through with his lie to cover himself up. He went through with it because he saw how insecure Sheila appeared at the thought of him not finding her attractive - and you can tell in his voice that he does not want that. As soon as she became visibly sad, nearly crying, Gerald was so quick to change his tone into a genuine one and assure her that he does find her attractive and tells her, albeit, hesitantly, that he wants her to do that to him. He easily could've gone on and made up another lie to cover himself, but as soon as Sheila's doubt of his affection for her (and in turn, her self worth) was brought into it, Gerald's genuine feelings for her came to surface. So, despite the, uh, odd situation it was, it was a moment of love for each of them. Sheila was willing to go through with it because she thought it was what Gerald wanted, and Gerald was willing to go through with it as to not make Sheila doubt her self-worth, or, to be more specific, Gerald's affection toward her. I do not want to hear anyone saying that he does not love her, because he absolutely does. Anyway . . . I got off track there for a moment, I just really like talking about that scene. As for why it's my favorite besides that: I just really like Gerald. I don't even know what else I can say. Any Gerald content just makes me happy, so the more prominent he is in an episode, the more I enjoy it (excluding the forbidden S15E1. We don't talk about that, though).

Least Favorite Episode of the Season: S20E1 - "Member Berries" This episode is the least exciting. It's the beginning of a season-wide plot, so it's really just setting everything up for the later episodes. I don't hate it, by any means - I actually like this season a lot! It's just that if I had to choose one episode as a least favorite, it would be this. It just doesn't have as much to offer as the others. This is also the reason I'm not typing an entire essay on it - it's just there. I really don't have much to say beyond that.

#☆#ar #agr

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thecinematicalgorithm · 3 years

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1917: Brotherhood in a War-zone

If you have not seen 1917 you should know there are major spoilers ahead. You should also know that you are missing out on what can only be assumed as the best film of the century thus far. Go watch it. Seriously, go.

For those who saw my post a few days ago I finally got around to watching the phenomenal Sam Mendes war film 1917 starring George MacKay and Dean Charles-Chapman. Sprinkled throughout the film are also an ensemble cast of supporting actors such as Benedict Cumberbatch, Andrew Scott, Mark Strong, Richard Madden and Colin Firth. And if you saw that post you’ve seen how I was justifiably blown away by how extraordinary the film was. Since then I have watched it several more times, yes several back-to-back viewings in which I took notes, picked out things I missed the first few times and essentially got swept away with each watch. I have also watched interviews with the cast and crew and read the script online. I cannot emphasize enough how much I love this film. But I will give it a go in the following analysis of what this film meant to me, and what Sam Mendes was clearly striving to convey to audiences. Fair warning, this is gonna be a long one.

At the beginning of the film we start off in a quiet, beautiful meadow untouched by war. Flowers swaying in a gentle breeze, clouds overcasting the scene below, and the seemingly “one-shot” begins. An interesting way for a film about World War I, or “The Great War” as some called it, to kick off. However, this start becomes important in comparison to the ending which we will examine more closely later. The thing to note for now is the peace of the present atmosphere, and the two soldiers we find napping beneath a tree.

These soldiers are Lance Corporals Thomas Blake and William Schofield. Blake is soon summoned by his Sergeant and told to “pick a man”. On my initial viewing of this film I at first thought that Blake chose Schofield due to his proximity to him. Throughout the film it’s clear they know each other and have for some time, but it wasn’t until I read the script and saw the movie a few extra times that I realized Blake and Schofield are proper friends, brothers even, and that their friendship is vital to the overall story being told. In an interview, Sam Mendes mentioned that Blake was “the heart of the film”, and in the script it actually says, when Schofield is carrying Blake’s lifeless corpse, that “nothing is heavier than the body of someone you loved”. So though we are only seeing a small fragment of time between these two friends we can see that they have a history and a bond that will deepen in the course of this story.

The first glimpse at this bond comes from the beginning. Blake asks Schofield if they were fed today, and Schofield replies that they only got mail from home as he precedes to hand Blake a letter. Blake reads the letter and comments wistfully “Myrtle’s having puppies” to which Schofield smiles. This small interaction tells us that Blake was not around when that day’s shipment came in, possibly he was already napping by the tree. It tells us that Schofield was there and was either handed, or offered to take, Blake’s mail. It’s clear that wherever Blake had been during the shipment he still ended up napping under that tree before Schofield, as Schofield chose to keep the letter on him to give to Blake later, presumably so as not to interrupt his friend’s sleep. The other thing we can assume is that this is not the first time Schofield has heard about Myrtle. There’s a familiarity in the way Blake mentions “Myrtle’s having puppies”, and not “my dog is having puppies”. Sure we can easily assume who Myrtle is as can Schofield, but the offhand, familiar way he tells Schofield this bit of news implies that Blake has probably talked about his dog before. Also the fact that neither asks about each other’s families also implicates that they may have already spoken or asked about these things. Mostly I see Blake being the one asking about and volunteering information on family as Schofield offers small, un-detailed glimpses of his home. But all in all the interaction gives us enough information to show us that these two soldiers are already friends, which adds a level of sweetness to when Schofield shares half of his ham and bread with Blake.

After our introduction into the relationship of these soldiers we are next taken into a dugout where we meet Colin Firth’s General Erinmore. It is here that we find out the plot of the story. Blake and Schofield, one by summons and the other by chance, are commanded to carry a message through “No Man’s Land” across enemy territory. The message: the Germans have withdrawn from their present occupation and have formed a new, much more fortified line (known in history as the Hindenburg line), essentially setting a trap for the 2nd Devons which are prepared to give chase. The 2nd Devons, whose leaders were unaware of this strategic move on the German’s part, consisted of around 1,600 men. One of those men included Lt. Joseph Blake, older brother of Thomas Blake.

So our characters now have their mission and for Blake in particular there is a deep personal connection. For both the stakes are high. Blake knows that if they fail their mission there is certain death for his brother and 1,600 men. Schofield knows that if they undertake this mission there is almost certain death for either one or both of them. As they begin their journey to the front up the down trench we begin to get a picture of how these two men differ from one another. Blake, moved by his brother’s life in the balance, takes off without another thought while Schofield desperately tries to reason that they need to take the time to plan out what they are going to do. Schofield is in favor of waiting till dark in order to give Blake and himself the best fighting chance against being spotted while Blake wants to set out immediately in order to reach his brother with time to spare. It’s clear Blake is the emotional one while Schofield the rational of the pair.

Each man’s view on the matter is understandable. Anyone in Blake’s position would want to save someone they loved, and being younger, more emotional, and more reckless with far less experience in the war, he is not inclined to hear Schofield out. Schofield on the other hand has some experience as we learn when Blake asks about his time at the Battles of Somme, and comments on how Schofield earned a medal from his actions at the Battle of Theipval Ridge. Schofield replies that he doesn’t remember much from the battle and that he no longer has his medal. From what we can tell in this exchange Schofield is not willing to talk about whatever it was he experienced at Somme and there may be a ring of truth when he says he doesn’t remember much. Schofield as we’ll come to see throughout the film has a tendency to separate and compartmentalize everything from his emotions to his family to his combat history. This is important to know about him now because this journey is going to break those compartment walls down until their contents begin to bleed into one another.

We next meet Andrew Scott’s brilliant take on Lt. Leslie, a brash, dry military leader on the front lines who has clearly seen too much. His character serves as a cold and pessimistic voicing of the dangers that face our protagonists and through Leslie we begin to see the toll of what this war has done to these men. It’s honestly one of my favorite scenes and Scott is probably my favorite supporting cast member followed closely by Richard Madden as Joseph Blake. And with Leslie’s harsh “you’re probably going to die” attitude sending them off, Schofield and Blake enter No Man’s land.

One of the truly astounding accomplishments of 1917 is how they pull the viewer into this journey with Blake and Schofield. The “one-take” shot and close-ups to the characters and what they are seeing make you feel as if you are traveling with them, and the set and prop designers don’t hold back. We are treated to a version of No Man’s land in which you can actually imagine how horrible the stench must have been. From carcasses of both horses and men rotting in the mud to flies and rats feasting on the remains to puddles littered with debris and the dead. The land is scarred with craters and mazes of twisted barbed wire, and not a single living thing can be seen aside from our two soldiers. Not to mention that the fumes of the mustard gas commonly used during this war must be clinging to everything. A stark contrast to the start of the film. Thomas Newman masterfully scores the scene with a haunting, almost dreadful, melody that builds in intensity until you’re certain some danger awaits Blake and Schofield. But they’ve made it to the German front lines and not a single enemy remains behind, and thus we enter the German dugout where, as we know, Schofield and Blake will come to realize the Germans did not leave without setting a few traps for whoever might follow.

It’s here in the dugout where we begin to see how close these two really are, at least for Blake. After the rat sets off the tripwire an explosion rings out causing a partial collapse of the dugout on Schofield. Fortunately, Blake was only blown back and quickly recovered in order to follow Schofield’s muffled screaming and begin digging him out. Chapman portrayed Blake’s desperation remarkably well. In an interview when asked how it was to take direction from Mendes, Chapman mentioned this scene and how Mendes had taken him aside and said to him, “Dead. You’re best friend could be dead”. Therefore, Chapman played the scene accordingly with Blake frantically digging and calling for his friend, sobbing out his name when he finds him seemingly lifeless, and desperately yanking Schofield to consciousness and to his feet.

The scene is an intense, edge-of-your-seat, hold-your-breath ride for survival as the two race for an exit with Blake leading a blind Schofield to safety. Not once does Blake think of leaving his comrade behind, and considering his desperation to save his brother you’d think the thought would have crossed his mind, but it doesn’t seem to in the least. Either they both make it out or they both die. Schofield’s reaction to his near-death experience is also important for now and for later. This is Schofield’s first, and certainly not the last, brush with death on this particular mission and it is the one that would have definitely killed him off if not for Blake. However, his initial knee-jerk reaction is one of desperate irritation. He tells Blake off for choosing him for this mission, despite knowing full well Blake had no idea what they were getting into. He then pulls out a thin, tin can and briefly peers at the contents before slipping it back into his pocket. As we know by the end of the film, inside that tin can are photos of his wife and daughters. After rinsing his eyes clear of the blinding dust the first thing that Schofield chooses to look at is his family. And here is the first sign of the impact this mission will have on those compartments that Schofield keeps separated. His near-death experience breaks through that first wall enough to get him to take another glance at what he almost lost.

I want to point out that despite his initial annoyance at Blake it’s made evident that Schofield is in fact very grateful to his comrade. I find it interesting and refreshing that he doesn’t apologize for his outburst or indicate that he knows Blake never meant to drag him along on a dangerous mission. Instead, he does something even better that points to how well he knows Blake, how much he cares for him, and something that will ensure Blake knows how grateful he truly is. I’m talking of course about the “bit of blood tin” scene. Schofield assures Blake that he will get a medal for his actions in the dugout and for saving his life. This implies that Schofield not only believes Blake has earned the honor but that he himself will make sure others hear of it if he survive’s the mission. The conversation also gives us a deeper insight into Schofield. He knows the medal would mean a great deal to Blake which is why he mentions it, but simultaneously his attitude suggests that he himself doesn’t care for such honors. When pressed by Blake we learn that he even traded his own for a bottle of wine. We never learn what it is Schofield did to earn the medal but it’s clear that whatever it is it carries painful memories in which he feels no honor in. We also learn why he told Blake earlier “it’s better” not to return home on leave. Schofield states he “hated” going home because the pain of knowing he would have to leave and his family may never see him again nor he them was too great. For someone who so desperately tries to compartmentalize his family from the war returning home only to be sent back would make that struggle all the more difficult, which is why he can only briefly look at his family’s photos.

Unfortunately, we soon reach what is the most pivotal scene in the film and in Schofield’s journey. Blake’s death. I believe that this scene while not the climax of the movie is the true beginning of Schofield’s “change of heart”. Earlier I mentioned how Mendes had once called Blake the “heart of the film”, and in another interview co-writer Kristy Wilson-Cairns broke down the ending scene of the film and stated that during his mission Schofield “takes on Blake” and that “Blake becomes a part of him” by the ending because of the promise he makes as Blake dies. So Schofield’s change of heart is that his heart becomes a bit more like Blake. It’s not a story of supernatural possession, nothing as silly as that, but rather a story of friendship and humanity that changes how Schofield perceives the war, himself, and the value of human life. Remember that leading up to Blake’s death Schofield was ready to kill the German pilot, saying “we should put him out of his misery”. But Blake held to compassion and refused to kill him which tragically resulted in his death. As Schofield carries on with the mission he is left with the hopes of his dead friend who died because of his goodness, and as he continues on we also see an increasing unwillingness to kill his enemies. Also important to note is that Schofield knows full well that Blake saved his life yet as Blake died there was nothing he could do making the promise to finish the mission and save Blake’s brother all the more vital.

Shortly after Blake’s death we meet Captain Smith played by Mark Strong. Like every character we meet along the way Smith plays a vital role in Schofield’s journey. Through Smith we learn that delivering the message may not be as simple as handing over the envelope. Schofield will have to fight to make sure it’s actually read. We also learn how quickly these young men were expected to adapt and move on when faced with death and loss. Strong played the role very well as he gave Smith a commanding sense of kindliness, wisdom and understanding. You get the sense that here is a Captain that understands the strength of brotherhood in wartime and has seen that look of a soldier who’s lost his brother. And so for the first time we see a commander who is gentle in his manner to Schofield but firm enough to get him back on his feet and moving. He then suggests to Schofield that it’s “better not to dwell on it” and though Schofield acknowledges him it’s obvious that as he bumps down the road in the back of a wagon packed with young soldiers telling jokes and oblivious to what he’s just gone through, Schofield can think of nothing but Blake.

MacKay acts his heart out in this scene and he doesn’t say a word or do anything, but the veiled pain is there, the furrowed brow is there, the look of a young man haunted by grief is there, the way he looks back out over the grounds where his fallen brother lies is there. His silence and disinterest in the soldiers and their jokes shows that Schofield is undergoing a quiet, grieving process of which will have changed him by time he climbs out of that wagon. When the wagon got stuck in the mud and Schofield begged for the others to help we begin to see a little of Blake in him. At the start of the mission Blake was desperate, emotional and unwilling to wait around to plan things out rationally. Now we see Schofield desperate, emotional, and unwilling to wait around to get the wagon out an easier way.

The next scene was similar in nature to that of the tripwire scene with the nerve-wracking intensity of a life-or-death situation except now Schofield is solely on his own. He manages to maintain a level-head and provide cover fire for himself, true Schofield-style and proves to be an excellent shot. However, he manages to get himself knocked out so that by time he awakes he is low on time and is now faced with enemies on all sides. The scene of the night window is one of the most beautiful works of cinematography I have ever seen. I get chills every time. With Newman’s astounding score and MacKay’s sense of wonderment the scene feels otherworldly, and before long Schofield is running for his life through the ruins of the city and coming across a burning church making you feel as if he has awoken in the pits of hell. But the ever rational Schofield quickly seeks shelter in a basement of what appears, at first glance, to be an abandoned building. Soon Schofield finds that in fact the basement is occupied by a young, frightened French woman and a baby girl. This is one of the few moments in the film in which Schofield gets an opportunity to catch his breath and take a break of sorts from the war. The woman tenderly cleans his head wound and Schofield gives literally every last bit of food and milk he has to the woman and the baby. Despite yet not knowing what waits for Schofield back home, or rather who waits for him, the viewer gets the sense that Schofield is no stranger to children and babies. He quietly recites a bit of poetry to the baby girl from Edward Lear’s “The Jumblies” and we even see a small smile from Schofield as he interacts with the child.

However, Schofield hears the tolling of the church bell and realizes he’s out of time and quickly makes his departure back to the war above, despite the woman’s pleas. The scene with the woman and child were important for Schofield’s journey because of the significance they held to him, particularly the baby. The likelihood that the pair will survive the war is not high and even if they do that baby is most likely never going to know who her parents were. Schofield purposefully chooses to separate his children from the war in his mind but now he has been forced to see the face of a child who’s entire life and existence has been uprooted and changed by the war. After making a desperate flee through the city and into the depths of the river Schofield crawls onto the shore of Croisilles Wood having to climb across the dead to do so. Literally stripped down, with just the uniform on his back, the exhausted, wounded and fearful soldier is overwhelmed by his grief and he sobs, as the script says, “for the river, for life, for Blake, for the baby”. By this point Schofield has nearly died multiple times, lost his brother-in-arms, been forced to abandon a young woman and baby, and fears he may be too late to fulfill his promise to Blake meaning that 1,600 men could already be dead. Very understandably, it’s just a little too much for even Schofield.

We then get treated to one of the most beautiful and haunting scenes of the film. The Wayfaring Stranger scene, in which a soldier sings a beautiful hymn, and the camera circles around the faces of young men who are just barely out of boyhood, shows us the nature of what Schofield’s mission is meant for. These are the men he needs to save. Poor Schofield is on the verge of giving up, but when he’s told that he’s where he needs to be he manages to climb back to his feet and keep moving. This chokes me up every time on a personal level, because while I could never know what it is to keep moving forward in a war zone, I know how it feels to be physically exhausted to the point of wanting to collapse in my time as a firefighter. But you have to put yourself aside, you have to forget whatever pain your mind tells you you have, and you focus on the mission at hand and you never stop moving and you never give up. That requires a mental strength that comes through months of training and which Schofield demonstrates in that moment. His race through the 1,600 men and his pleas for the commanders not to send their men over gives the film’s climax the perfect build-up. I was very glad to have not seen the trailer beforehand, so I was not waiting for “that running scene”. When he stopped and looked up at the edge of the trench I remember thinking, “oh my god he’s not about to do what I know’s about he to do!” and sure enough Schofield climbed once again into No Man’s land, this time knowing without any doubt that Germans were on the other side with all their weapons trained at him. This version of No Man’s land is a fantastic parallel to the No Man’s land he crossed earlier with Blake. The green grassy field remains untouched by the war thus far and the soldiers on the field are living, breathing men rather than rotting carcasses. So Schofield runs parallel to the trench as the men run straight to the enemies line unaware that this lone man is risking everything in order to save them from the fate he and Blake witnessed when they first set out on this mission.

True to Smith’s warning Schofield had to fight for the Army command to be read. Benedict Cumberbatch portrayed Colonel Mackenzie, a harsh, no-nonsense military strategist who is utterly tired of the game and ready to end the war. Fortunately, Schofield says just the right thing to catch Mackenzie’s attention and effectively stop the battle. He couldn’t save everyone but he prevented what would have been an outright massacre. And so that leads us to the last leg of his mission, the one he didn’t set out for when he and Blake left Erinmore’s dugout but which fell to him nonetheless. Striding through the casualty tents Schofield unfortunately has to bear witness to those who could not be saved despite his best efforts and he finds himself near Lt. Blake, whom he recognizes by voice alone. Madden offered one of my favorite performances as the brother Lance Corporal Blake was so desperate to save. His joy at the prospect of seeing his little brother turned to shattered disbelief and sorrow at realizing he has lost his brother. The scene is quiet and still and powerful in that stillness, and yet somehow there’s a sense of hope as Schofield tells him that Blake saved his life. A sense that Blake’s kindness and bravery lives on in his brother and in Schofield. So when Mendes said that Blake was the “heart of the film” he’s essentially saying that the heart of 1917 are the countless lives lost during that Great War, because the character of Blake serves as representation of every young soldier who never made it home, who never got the chance to live out their lives or build a family or see their loved ones again. But Mendes wanted this film to act as a tribute to those stories, and though Schofield was not designed to portray Alfred Mendes (the director’s grandfather who in fact served as a messenger during WW1) he does represent those soldiers who survived and were able to tell the stories of those who did not.

Now whether or not Schofield will survive till the end of the war is unclear and not really the point of the story (I personally like to think he did despite the probable infection he’s likely to have in that hand of his). However, his completion of his mission and his passing of Blake’s mementos to his brother and his promise to write their mother about Blake’s heroics shows that he intends to make sure that Blake’s honor lives on. Then, we see Schofield do what he could not do before the start of this mission. He pulls out the photos of his family and gazes into their faces, reading the message written by his wife, “Come back to us”. He leans his head back against the lone tree and closes his eyes for what I’m sure is a much needed nap. To his right spreads a peaceful, open field just like the movie’s introduction except this time Blake is only with him in memory and in heart.

Bless you if you’ve read all of this and thank you! Once again I cannot express how much I love this film. It appeals to everything I love the most from art to history to humanity and the complexities of the human mind to feats of heroism to struggles of man. It’s beautiful, it’s devastating, it’s unforgettable. If you are fan of the movie as well please let me know what you loved most! Also feel free to comment on the analysis or add your insights!

#1917 #sam mendes #kristy wilson-cairns #george mackay #dean charles chapman #benedict cumberbatch #richard madden #colin firth #andrew scott #mark strong #william schofield #thomas blake #films #history #ww1 #cinematography

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secretlittl3whore · 3 years

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Not a Nightmare

Summary: You’re reminiscing over the last year when you hear Bucky having a dream in the other room, but it’s not the kind of dream you were expecting.

Pairing: Reader x Bucky Barnes

Warnings: smut! Unprotected sex (don’t be silly, wrap your Willy). A little angsty first. Swear words. 18+ y’all please!

Enjoy my sweet nymphs. As always, you can request ;)

——

His nightmares kept him up most nights. It had been that way since i had connected with him in South America. He wasn’t the Winter Soldier anymore, he really didn’t even know who he was, except what he could glean from the Captain America exhibit and from what I could share of what Steve had told me. Part of me wondered if I made the right decision to follow him instead of returning to America, but when he recognized me and in the two weeks I was down there, attempted multiple interactions with me, I couldn’t deny him when he asked me to stay. I wish I understood why he asked.

Now here we are in Bucharest. Times are calmer for him, but the nightmares...they’re worse than anything I expected. Sometimes, he will awake screaming at night. Others he’s trying to fight some imaginary enemy and doesn’t wake till he’s forced. On occasion, I have been the victim of a night terror. His vibranium arm crushing my throat or him slamming me into the floor. Bucky always felt like shit afterwards, no matter what I said. At one point he tried to kick me out of his apartment and his life, saying he was too dangerous for me. I sat outside the door for six hours, listening to him cry. When I finally had knocked, he practically ripped the door of the hinges to grab me back in. He dropped to his knees that day, his arms wrapped around me as he buried his tear covered face against my stomach. It broke me to see him in such a vulnerable position. I remember running my hands through his hair for what seemed like forever until his grip around me loosened and his arms fell limply to his sides.

“Why did you stay? After, after all I’ve done?” His voice broke, as more tears slid down his face. My own eyes welled with tears as I kneeled in front of him. Slowly and gently, I took him in my arms, pulling him against me. Bucky tensed for a minute, but then slowly wrapped his arms around me and buried his face in my neck. I went back to running my fingers in his hair, contemplating my response.

“Because I want to be here for you. In every way possible.” A silent sob racked his body and I felt more of his weight on me as he crumpled. Bucky laid his head in my lap and brought his flesh hand to rest on my hip. He kept his vibranium on the floor, away, fear radiating from the way he curled it away from me. “Give me your hand Bucky.” He raised his head off my lap with wide open eyes.

“But...” he started to protest, but i shushed him, placing my finger on his lips.

“I’m here for you in every way.” I emphasized the last two words with a small smile. I wasn’t afraid of him and I certainly wasn’t afraid of his arm. “That means,” I reached for his hand and took the cool metal fingers within mine, “you don’t have To worry about keeping yourself from me.” Reluctantly he allowed me to bring his arm up to my lips. I knew he couldn’t feel it, but I kissed his had, listening to the soft whirs and enjoying the feel of the cool metal against my lips. Bucky continued to cry for a while more, my sleep shorts practically soaked and my legs so numb that I was probably going to have to crawl to bed. But he never let go, never moved his head, and never tried to remove his arm from my grasp.

Since that day, he has been exceedingly touchy with me. It was clear he was touch starved, I would be too, if all i ever knew was a harsh hand. I started to notice it when I had just returned from the market with groceries one day. I swore he had been asleep on his makeshift bed and I was trying to be as quiet as I could, but then felt a presence and a hand on the small of my back. I threw him a small smile over my shoulder before returning to my task. He stayed there for the entire time I put the groceries away, leaning against the fridge door and absentmindedly rubbing the exposed skin of my back. It was the hardest fucking lesson to learn, but I finally had enough willpower to not jump when he placed his cold fingers against my skin. I honestly loved the feeling of his metal pads dragging softly against the small of my back, but gosh dang were they freezing! Even despite the fact that he wore gloves almost all the time.

Nonetheless, i started to notice it more and more after this. Him standing close to me, having his hand on me at any point (or simply just brushing it against me), sitting near me, and my favorite, him laying his head on my lap when I’m sitting in the couch.

Had I fallen in love with the super soldier? I cannot deny it.

—

A whimper from the living room ripped me from my head. I sat up in the bathtub, trying to see if the sound was just in my head. Another whimper told me it wasn’t. I wrapped myself in a robe and padded softly into the living room where Bucky slept.

He wasn’t thrashing around, but his face was contorted in an expression I couldn’t read. Suddenly, a small moan left his lips and I just about swooned. What was this man dreaming about? At that moment, his blanket fell to the side and I averted my eyes respectfully, but definitely didn’t miss the tent that had formed in his sweat pants. I turned to walk away but then he moaned again, this time saying a name...my name.

I felt hot, not just in my face, but also in between my legs. He was dreaming about me? I almost didn’t believe it, but the man said my name yet again. Fine, if he says it again...

“Y/n...” Bucky moaned, a little louder this time. Damn it. Mustering all my confidence, I walked over to the sleeping man. It was a risk, and I knew it, but I’ll be damned if I lied to myself and said I didn’t want this man. Kneeling beside his bed, I gently brushed some of the hair out of his face. The super soldier startled awake and grabbed my hand harshly, breathing raspy. “y/n...what?” Voice sleepy.

“You were dreaming.” I said simply. He sat up quickly and pulled the blanket over himself, averting his eyes from my gaze. “Bucky,” he still refused to look at me. “Do you want me?” Bucky immediately snapped his eyes to mine, a clear and potent blush on his face. I heard him swallow hard before replying in the most quiet of voice,

“Yes.” Inwardly I celebrated as loudly as I could, but I kept cool on the surface. I surged forward and captured his lips. He responded immediately, moving his lips against mine. Without breaking the kiss, I straddled his lap wrapping my arms around his neck. Tentatively, he brought both hands to my hips. I licked his bottom lip and invaded his mouth when he opened. He moaned into my mouth as my tongue danced with his. When I pulled back, our breaths were short. His blue eyes glistened with tears,

“Are you sure you want me?” If it had been any other moment, I probably would’ve just cried and held him in my arms, but there was such a confidence within myself that I decided against such a meek answer. Instead, I pulled at the tie of my robe. Bucky almost instantly grabbed my hands, his eyes wide. “What are you doing?”

“Showing you just how much I want you.” As he relaxed his hands, I pulled the robe off. The cold air within the apartment perked my nipples. Bucky’s eyes traveled my body, but he didn’t move. Slowly, I led his hands to my chest. His metal hand played a dangerous game of temperature play with my breasts and a moan escaped from me. My cunt ached and I knew that I was wet from anticipation.

That moan must’ve given him some sort of confidence because he started to knead the fleshy mounds. He then dipped his head low and took a nipple into his mouth.

“Buck,” I moaned. His tongue laved over the nipple and I felt his teeth pull gently. I was a raspy, moaning mess by the time he switched over to the other nipple. Need friction. Taking his flesh hand from my breast, I guided it down to my aching cunt. Bucky stopped his lavishes on my nipple as he stared at me.

“I’m...” Bucky averted his gaze, “I’m out of practice.” Before he could get into his head and start comparing himself to his 1940s version, I kissed him deeply.

“So am I, we’ll learn together.” Bucky inhaled deeply and dropped his head to my shoulder. A finger touched my sensitive nub and I jerked. He started circling that area with his thumb as his other fingers explored, gathering wetness. A finger entered me and I gasped at the feeling. Another entered. Moving in and out, curling, and gently stretching me. I was a moaning mess at his musings. A white flash smashed my vision as he hit a certain spot within me and I moaned loudly. Bucky started kissing and licking my shoulders and neck, marking the skin as he paid attention to this spot within me. My moans spurned him on as he quickened his pace, still making sure to play with my clit.

“Buck...Bucky.” His name a mantra on my lips as I grasped his hair, my head falling backwards. His metal arm reached around my back, holding me in place. My orgasm was building, toes curling, that warmth within my belly. His fingers pumped and curled, edging me to the end. In a another flash of white It surged through me and I came on his fingers.

He looked surprised and proud of himself as he brought his soaked fingers to his lips. I almost came again as I watched him lick each one clean. His pupils blew out and he pulled my face to his, smashing his lips against mine. Tongue surged past my open lips, bringing the taste of me. Bucky lifted me off his lap and gently turned us around, laying me on his bed, but never breaking the kiss. He worked his pants off.

I pulled back from the kiss, my lungs screaming for air. He leaned upwards and I finally caught the full show. His dick was massive, too swollen and red. The veins popping. And fine curly hair at the base. He was Definitely bigger than I have ever had. I gingerly reached out and wrapped my fingers around him. Shit, he was thick, I could hardly touch my middle finger to my thumb. I looked up at him. His eyes were closed, mouth opened just a bit, and his hands were in his hair.

“Buck?” I brought his attention to me and he released his hands from his hair. “What’s wrong?” He had tears in his eyes again.

“I don’t want to be something you regret y/n.” He cried. I reached upwards and guided him down to my lips. His tears dropping onto my cheeks.

“Never. I’ll never regret you. I love you.” I whispered into his ears. Bucky froze. Oh shit, did I go to far?

“Say it again.” He spoke finally, still frozen in place, his ear next to my lips. I swallowed hard before repeating,

“I love you.” Bucky reached down between us, pumped himself twice, before lining himself up at my entrance. He pushed forward gently. Even with just the tip inside, I could already feel the stretching. He entered more, going slow. Bucky and I moaned loudly as he became fully sheathed inside. I grasped at his shirt, feeling full. There was a dull pain within my cunt and I breathed through it, the pain finally turning to pleasure. Almost as he could sense it, Bucky started to move. The rhythm was slow at first, him enjoying and getting reacquainted to the feeling.

My entire being felt jolted with every roll of his hips. His pubic bone was hitting my clit so perfectly that even at this slow pace, I was sure that he would throw me over the edge again. Bucky leaned closer to me, making sure to keep his weight on his forearms, and buried his head within my neck again. Wrapping my legs around his waist, i fisted my hand within his hair. He groaned and snapped his hips hard against me. The sound that left my mouth was pornographic, and he definitely liked it. Bucky started snapping his hips into me at a bruising pace, drawing moan after moan. I was incoherent, arching my back into him. He suddenly grabbed my hand from his back and thrusted it against the bed, holding it at the wrist. His metal hand hoisted my hips higher, and at the angle he was going, he was smashing into that special spot. I came in an instant, screaming loudly.

He didn’t let up his pace. Pulling out almost entirely before slamming back in. Both hands were now at my hips, gripping hard. There would be bruises in the morning. Groans and moans were rushing past his lips as he powered through, his stamina definitely a byproduct of the super soldier serum. Another orgasm built within me and he leaned over my ear,

“Fuck y/n, I can feel you clenching. Can you give me another doll?” I threw my head back as he bit into my neck.

“Bucky!” I cried as the orgasm came. Bucky slowed his pace, pressing open mouth kisses to my skin. He then began to work a mark into my neck. My body was on fire and really sensitive. I moaned loudly, fisting my hands into his shirt. For a moment I wondered why it was still on, but I figured that although he may be confident to be within me, he may not yet be confident to show me himself fully, and that was okay, we could work towards that. Once he was proud of the mark, he placed a loving peck to it before moving towards my face. Not an inch was left unkissed. He leaned his forehead against mine, blue orbs staring into mine.

“Ready?” He asked. I nodded slowly, kissing him gently. Bucky picked up his speed and this time, it was more brutal than before. Pubic bone smashing against the sensitive bundle of nerves, wet legs and balls slapping against skin making the most perverted of sounds. Bucky’s hands gripped mine. I arched into him again, writhing, unable to control myself at the amount of pleasure within. My moans were incoherent, his name slipping from my lips. Suddenly his hips stuttered and he slammed into me, wrapping his arms tightly around me and crushing me against his chest. His release came with my name on his lips, a string of soft repetition. For a while he held me, his cock warm within me. And then he pulled out, laying beside me. Sweaty bodies, heaving chests, and the smell of sex was an intoxicating combination. I felt drained, but happy.

Curling against him, I wrapped my leg around his hip, just to feel him against my cunt. Bucky reached down and pulled the blanket over us. As I felt sleep take over, Bucky pressed a kiss to my forehead.

“I love you too Y/N.”

#winter soldier smut #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes #sebastian stan #winter soldier #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky imagine

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inuyashaha · 3 years

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Yashahime Episode 15

I think so many of my feelings and observations have been stated by others at this point, but here go my rambling thoughts anyway.

First the negative: It was an oddly structured episode. The introduction threw us straight into the past, very, very briefly framed by Riku as the narrator. Did Riku break the fourth wall or were we to assume a listener we did not see? I’m still not sure. So much information was thrown at the audience that it did not feel like there was enough times to savor the emotions of the moments ... very very important moments that showed us Inuyasha and Kagome’s home and married dynamic, pregnant Kagome, RIN HAVING HER BABIES with Kaede, Sango and Kagome being there (I LOVED that), Sesshomaru taking his babies...I’m willing to wait and assume this rushed narrative is on purpose, but it was a little jarring.

Now the good:

Rin is the mommy! I knew that. I was convinced on August 1st during the livestream, but it was a sweet (if all too brief) moment. Mamiko Noto’s voice as Rin was so perfect. It was sweet, but it was subdued. It was the voice of a someone who had just birthed twins and knows something awful is about to go down. To hear her name the babies was a beautiful moment, and how sweet were baby Towa and Setsuna. Towa looked a little grumpy/sleepy, but baby Setsuna was already smiling :). I do think they will show that Setsuna, deep down, is a smiling sweet girl like her mother and that circumstances made her like she is. It also makes me think that we have only seen one side of Towa -- we haven’t really seen what she has inherited from Sesshomaru -- yet.

I loved that all of Rin’s friends surrounded her and helped her have her babies. The twins hurrying to get Kaede, Sango going for Kagome...it was a community event! But seriously, to know that if only for a short while, Rin got to be surrounded by love and peace with her babies by her side makes the bitterness of Sesshomaru taking the babies so quickly afterwards a little easier to bear. Just a little. Sango the experienced mom. Kaede the midwife. Rin the new mom. Kagome the expectant mom. Imagine the conversations and bonding. Their kids should have grown up together :(.

And I am going to speculate, until the show proves me wrong, that Rin probably had her own hut and continued to live in the village after she married Sesshomaru, or at least after she got pregnant. The fact that the twins came to get Kaede at night makes me think that she was not in Kaede’s hut. Wouldn’t Kaede be at her own place at night?

Like Inuyasha and Kagome, I think Rin and Sesshomaru had their own place:

This looks different from Kaede’s hut. I don’t remember the little pathway on the left, but it’s impossible to tell if they are next to the gate here. Again, I’m choosing to believe they had their own place.

So, this makes me consider how much Sesshomaru really did settle down for Rin. He gave up his titles. He did not take her to a castle in the air. He let her stay among her friends and start a family WITH HIM but still within the village. He gave her the best of both worlds. He MARRIED her. How many times was she called his wife or bride? She’s no concubine or human piece on the side. He MARRIED her. Since he had not seen his mother in a while, I’m assuming he married her in her village, letting everyone know she wasn’t just some poor village girl taken advantage of by the powerful yokai. And it clearly wasn’t just a human marriage. All the big bad demons called Rin Sesshomaru’s wife. What honor, respect and love he showed to her, a mere human peasant (though of course we all know she is so much more than that, especially to Sesshomaru).

Was he like many lords and installed her in her own home, visiting and staying with her when he did not have business to attend to? Or did he tell Inuyasha that he better get used to having another demon hanging out in his forest by the village? Like...for all intents and purpose, Sesshomaru may have been living in the same village as Inuyasha, both intending to raise their families together. I love that. Please Yashahime, don’t dissuade me of this.

Poor Sesshomaru...sigh...I know it doesn’t look great for him right now...but that will change. The story is not going to make him the villain. It’s just not. But yes, poor Sesshomaru. He got to be happy about his babies being born for all of about two seconds before Zero interrupted him. Look at his little smile while he listens to his daughters’ first cries:

He had his worried face on, and then he smiled. He’s a dad in the waiting room. And the TONE of Jaken’s voice when he declared that they had been born. The WARMTH, the LOVE. Grandpa Jaken I love you so much.

This bitch, though, I don’t love at all:

Does she have some kind of magic yokai ultrasound that lets her know Sesshomaru had twin daughters and predicted Kagome would have a daughter? I look forward to seeing how this all unravels, but the fact that she showed up IMMEDIATELY after the girls were born is frightening, and maybe that was why Sesshomaru was at the outskirts of the village instead of closer by? Clearly, they were expecting some kind of attack, but dang...that happened fast.

Who is this lady anyway? I’ve seen it speculated that it may be Riku’s mother...and yes? I could see that. Did she have a hanyou she was not allowed to keep, poor Riku tossed overboard, and now she seeks revenge? Or was she rejected by Toga? Those tears of hers. Who was she crying for?

As many others noticed, this was a little odd:

What about Sesshomaru’s mother? He hasn’t seen her in years (such a bad son), and when they go to her castle, she’s missing. Was she just off doing flying dog stuff in the sky? Was she shopping for expensive jewelry and designer silks? I’m assuming she was not at Sesshomaru’s wedding. Or did Zero do something to her and Sesshomaru just wasn’t aware? I’m dying to see more of Sesshomaru’s mom. I want her to meet the twins and just throw out her arms all, “Come to Grandma! Let me buy you things and tell you stories about your dad.” But that remains to be seen.

Speaking of grandparents, can I say yet again that I love the honorary grandparents Kaede and Jaken, both trying to protect Rin in their own way. Kaede doesn’t hold back and calls Sesshomaru a fool (imagine what she was like when Sesshomaru was truly courting Rin) while Jaken comforts Rin when her babies are taken away. Again, the voice acting by Jaken’s VA is EVERYTHING in this episode. The LOVE he conveys. He’s perfect. I love him. I do.

And Rin knew the plan. She knew what was going to happen, but poor thing...I wish it could have been different for her. Look how much she loves and trusts Sesshomaru. That expression clearly says “Look what I made! Look what WE made!” I wish we could have seen them react to the babies together.

Also, look at how Sango is about THISCLOSE to putting on her slayer clothes and kicking Sesshomaru’s ass when he scooped up those babies and turned away:

The rest of the episode was such a jumble of events. Sesshomaru AND Jaken were with Inuyasha and Kagome when the comet arrived, which was after the twins’ birth but before Moroha’s. Even if they are hanyo, I don’t think Jaken and Sesshomaru would have left newborn babies alone. Rin was with them. Jaken even said he was bringing Rin to them (I assume after she recovered from birthing twins). Further supporting this would be the dream gazing spell business -- Like others have said, I’m pretty sure Rin sacrificed herself to keep her remaining daughter safe after Towa was pulled into the future.

Miscellaneous observations:

1. What the hell is going on with the comet? Every 500 years? So, the Higurashis might be in for a surprise pretty soon? Comet remnants are still in the sky though...

2. Why in the hell did Inuyasha bring his pregnant wife along for the comet destruction? Why exactly was she there? Unless he was too worried about her safety to leave her behind?

3. Riku is one shady fellow. HE found the compact? How did he know where to look? I know, I know. Don’t be hasty, but c’mon. We don’t have that many episodes left.

4. I like how they portrayed a pregnant Kagome. I like this little side view where you can see she’s chunky, but it’s not an exaggerated thing:

5. Sesshomaru and Rin had babies before Inuyasha and Kagome! On one level, it is very sweet. Of anyone, Rin and Sesshomaru are very aware of the fragility of life and how fleeting time is. Look at the names of their daughters. It makes sense that they wanted a family quickly. On the other hand, I cannot shake the idea that the brothers did get competitive with each other. I can imagine Inuyasha knocking up Kagome as quickly as possible after finding out that Rin was pregnant. Then Sesshomaru has TWO daughters to Inuyasha’s one. I am longing for some brotherly interactions. Let Inuyasha call him a hypocrite at least once. Let Sesshomaru gloat that he has TWO super awesome daughters. Let the daughters watch their ridiculous fathers fist fight while their mothers pour water on them and tell them to SIT. Please.

6. Besides emphasizing the fact that Rin is Sesshomaru’s WIFE, the episode also emphasized the fact that Rin actually birthed the girls. Rin is in labor, it will be soon, you did well, Rin, Rin resting in bed with her daugthers, her voice weak and tired, the tub used to wash the babies in the background. There was no magic switcheroo. The twins were not found beneath a tree. Sesshomaru did not sprout them from a forgotten limb. They came out of Rin’s body. She’s the mom. She made them with her husband. End of.

6. Finally, this is the best part of the episode.

You sure did, Rin.

Now where are A-Un and Shippo?

#yashahime #yashahime episode 15 #yashahime spoilers #sessrin #rin #sesshomaru #towa #setsuna #jaken

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mcmoth · 3 years

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Tommy and Fundy.

/rp

Ahhh!!! Ahhh my beloveds,,,,, my scrimblo and skrunkly,,, ohgghghh my boyyss......

Seriously I cannot emphasize enough how much I would LOVE to have them interact more in lore. They're Wilbur's boys!!! Something between nephew and uncle/brothers, with so much that ties them together, and yet, they stay so separated....

There is just so much that I could get into in regards to what conflicts they could have, so I'm just gonna put them in bullet points:

Fundy holding resentment for Tommy for how he sort of 'took' his place as Wilbur's son, as his top priority. I'm still utterly haunted by how c!Wilbur first elected Tommy as president at nov 16, then Tubbo, but never Fundy. Never even thought of him. God damn it, he's not even in the fucking anthem. While Tommy is thought of as the muse of L'manberg, the one who fought for it the hardest, Fundy was just remembered as a traitor in the end.... it fucks me up so much. I would love to have Fundy be angry at Tommy for this, more subconciously I think since he's not really one to blame people like that, and that would sort of lead them to talk, and...

I would love for Fundy, through Tommy, to learn more about Wilbur. To learn what was truly happening in Pogtopia, why he left them all the way he did, how he hung out with Tommy after his revival, still.... and how he's now kinda left Tommy, too. I think Fundy would sort of imagine that Tommy had it great - that Wilbur loved Tommy more than he ever did him and trusted in him and oh, how great would it be, to be at his side, to be so valued.... only to hear Tommy talk about it all, and realize "Oh... oh, he's kind of fucked up from it all." And sort of reconsider his whole view of Wilbur, why his dad left him, and whether he would have liked to be in Tommy's shoes after all.....

(Before I scare anyone, btw, I am not a Wilbur anti, I love him very very much, this is just from their perspective)

Both of their desire for guidance. For their whole lives, they've looked for people to follow, for people to protect them. Their stories mirror each other in that way, i think... for Tommy, it was Wilbur, then Dream, then Techno, then Wilbur again, and now Phil.... and for Fundy, it was Wilbur, then Schlatt, then Quackity, and he also confided in Phil at some point like Tommy. Both of them share this energy of having daddy issues, of being so desperate for paternal figures in their lives... both of them ache so desperately for family. And so wouldn't it make sense, for them to find it through each other? They are literal family, wouldn't it be so healing for them to remember that and reconcile?

On the other hand, though, while they are prone to following others, both of them also share the want for carving a life for themselves that is their own. And while Fundy aches to have people recognise him for his achievements, to recognise him in general, Tommy mostly deals with the opposite problem of too many eyes on him, too much attention that he'd like to get away from. They share so many similarities, really - characters that used to be fairly prideful, that loved to get up to mischief, that mask their pain with humor, that are so desperate to not be alone. I think they could find a lot of solidarity in each other, and see how each of their lives suck in different ways, and, through that, sort of come to understand what they need to find that balance in life, that happiness.

Speaking of solidarity - their relationship with Schlatt/Dream. It's canon that Schlatt was an abusive asshole, and that Fundy geniunely grew to believe in him and seek his approval and even come to see him as a father figure while he felt so distant from Wilbur. All to be awaited with only scathing words and smashed bottles, when Schlatt's life came to an end. I wonder if Fundy still misses him. If he regrets ever becoming a spy. If he ever had doubts and believed in Schatt's insults, if he hates him now. There's a lot of differences between c!disk duo and Fundy and Sclatt's relationships, but there are common themes, too, and I think it would be interesting to have that be recognised. Once again, they serve as foils - Fundy's mistreatment being born in neglect, and Tommy's obsession.

Fundy is alone. He feels so painfully alone, he is such a goddamn lonely character.... which is why I think becoming friends with Tommy would be so good for him. Tommy is a people magnet, he attracts attention like moths to a flame, he's painfully social and he could help build ties for Fundy between so many other characters. That's not to say that Fundy doesn't have important and deep relationships on his own, that he couldn't find them by himself - he does, and he has. But I think, with how Tommy's also grown to be more and more of an open and genuine person with time, he could help Fundy crack his shell and step out of it a bit. I think he could help him feel actually seen.

Now, there's probably more that I could talk about, but the question remains... when, and how, would they actually come to talk? Well...

It's hard to say. In canon, they haven't shown much interest in actively interacting with each other. But if c!Tommy does move on with a plotline where he builds up a new community, sort of a new L'manburg, that could be one way for them to cross paths. Or with how Dream is out, and Las Nevadas is so panicked about it, that would naturally lend to Fundy coming to Tommy's aid. But I don't think any meaningful connection would come with that, unless the elephant in the room is brought in.... which is, obviously, Wilbur.

It pains me so much that Wilbur and Fundy haven't reconciled yet. Haven't even talked. His dad has just.... forgotten him. Still thinks of him as a traitor. I think...

I think the thing that would make Wilbur want to reach out again would be learning about exile. If he learns that he's failed one kid, in such a major way, without knowing.... maybe, hopefully, he would come to realize he had another one waiting for him, too. And with how c!crime boys healing would mean c!Wilbur healing in general, moving past his warped view of himself, maybe it would begin to strip layers of his paranoia as well, and he would begin to doubt his view of Fundy, too. Leading him to finally, finally, go talk to him. And through knowing Wilbur again, Fundy would come to grow closer to Tommy, too.

Or, maybe, a perhaps more juicy option - is that Fundy sees Wilbur supporting Tommy, just like he always has, from his perspective - always Tommy, and never him - and it leaves him to finally break. For him to confront Tommy, since Wilbur still refuses to engage with him, for him to air his grievances and try to seek an answer for why. Why he was abandoned, why he was never answered. And thus, it prompts Tommy to emphathise with Fundy, for them to talk to each other, and together... they come to face Wilbur, and heal. As a family, at last.

So..... ya!!! This is so freaking long; as you can see, I have many thoughts about them shhshdhsh,, they are my two special boys. This dynamic would probably never come to full fruition, but... one can dream. Sigh..... </333

#dream smp #tommyinnit #fundy #meta #character analysis #ramble #prank duo #< just my own name for their duo idk if its taken yet and its not official #wilbur soot #abuse mention tw #ask #anon

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preemshots · 3 years

Text

johnny + the nomads lore

alright, i know this is a screenshots blog but i'm going to go ahead and start dropping some juicy lore tidbits as i dig them up. part of what i'm doing outside of just photo diarying is shard hunting, and BOY is there a lot the game likes to hide in those little shards for idiots like me who like to read so we can write unnecessarily accurate fanfiction!

full disclosure, i know jack shit about the TTRPG/cyberpunk 2020 rulebook except what i read in the wikis.

so here’s my lore roundup so far of everything i know about johnny joining the nomads

we know johnny likes to narrate v’s quest objectives. here’s the first mention where he says it himself:

during the voodoo boys quest "transmission" there's a shard in the maglev tunnels beside the ice bath, presumably from brigitte's research into johnny in the first place:

okay, so the timeline is this: johnny joins the nomads after trying and failing to rescue alt. johnny hides out in the badlands for some years. then he and rogue come back to night city and nuke arasaka tower help alt escape the arasaka subnet by uploading liberator to their network once and for all.

this ultimately makes sense. in alt’s flashback, we meet santiago, who is a nomad/connected to nomads, joins rogue and johnny when they're trying to get alt back, and eventually becomes the leader of the aldecaldos.

part of santiago’s TTRPG lore is that he, johnny, and rogue have to lay low in the badlands with nomads after they storm arasaka headquarters (i am aware the game takes many liberties with the original lore so who knows the full accuracy of anything from the original rulebooks)

ENDING spoilers: in the rogue+johnny storming AHQ ending, it's revealed that rogue has a son while they're prepping for the job. if you eavesdrop on her calling him while you're at the afterlife, you hear her tell her son to (paraphrasing here) "pull over and look at the stars", which immediately made my brain go to: nomad, badlands, santiago = dad? maybe. (santiago also canonically has a son according to the TTRPG lore)

this immediately reminded me of another interesting shard that i believe you can find in multiple locations around night city: “"what REALLY happened in arasaka tower?“

i love this dang shard. at first i thought it was just a cute conspiracy with some juicy gossip (and i love how 99% of the shards that mention johnny in this game are reminding us that he's not a real rebel, he's a poser) but it brings some interesting shit together

one: it tells us where johnny got his hands on the nukes! he and the nomads jumped a militech convoy and jacked some bombs!

which is never directly explained, even as saburo arasaka is interrogating him shortly before using soulkiller. very nice of johnny to protect his homies like that.

...or maybe he didn’t. saburo emphasizes that the dead don’t lie like the living do, and we don’t know what exactly arasaka did to johnny’s construct in mikoshi.

it also explains why the obvious media narrative is that militech nuked arasaka, a nice neat political bow to the end of the fourth corpo wars, which is an entire section of the TTRPG lore that makes my eyes cross when i read it.

it also makes the star/nomads ending extremely interesting, because i originally believed it was the ending where V’s journey deviates the most from rewalking johnny’s path... which also has weird implications if the johnny’s nomad era is being kept from v.

(this also leads into my belief that the star ending/the devil ending are narratively two sides of the same coin, but that’s a WHOLE ANOTHER POST for another day.)

TWO, just straight up the fact that they turned the raid where they actually obtained the nukes into an action flick BD that pretty much ANYONE could watch. who the hell was doing that??

well, who else other than the guy who johnny (optionally) punched the shit out of for filming alt's death: thompson, media guy, and according to rogue, “bad luck”. because you know, recording your crimes is straight up evidence that can be used against you.

during the alt flashback we meet thompson, and just after that in cyberspace before meeting alt, johnny tells v that he has no idea what happened to him and that they never worked together again.

oh, johnny, you lying bastard man

this is blatantly untrue, and if V even had two braincells and better memory than a goldfish they'd know this--in the first flashback sequence where johnny and rogue nuke arasaka tower, thompson is on the comms as they ride the AV towards AHQ, questioning their plans and use of violence.

which leaves me with some questions, like where the fuck is thompson, why does johnny keep lying about this, why doesn't johnny say almost anything about how you interact with the aldecaldo clan nonstop throughout the game when he himself may have been a member of the family for some time?? is he continuing to protect the nomad clan that saved his ass? we know that a lot of his flashbacks are unreliable at best, that johnny changes shit up as desired when presenting V with his memories.

in 2077, you can also find that there’s a remake of “badlands raid” in the shard “new release braindances” that is pretty much everywhere. that shard doesn’t add much, but does mention something along the lines of “many people don’t know the ending of the original” which probably means johnny punched thompson out for filming again, or something.

my running theories: rogue ditched santiago and the aldecaldos with johnny and thompson to nuke arasaka tower, and when johnny died she was stuck looking for (heavily implied by johnny here:) corpo sellout ways to survive.

adam smasher obviously has something to do with this since johnny/rogue's vendetta against the guy isn't entirely clear beyond the smokescreen of "he killed johnny and he sucks". i have done 0 research into this though i'm tired of typing okay

i obviously cannot be certain i have found everything related to this in the game as i’m not even done with this playthrough where i’m trying to pay attention, but i hope this is fun for someone else to dig into.

enjoy, fellow silverhand freaks

EDIT: additional findings

ALRIGHT I HAVE DONE MORE DIGGING AND I AM BACK WITH MORE NOMAD/JOHNNY FINDINGS. these ones are kind of a bummer but VERY interesting.

there’s a shard called “excerpts from a history of the nomads by bb pires” that goes into detail about how nomads came to be

there’s an interesting quote in it: It's hard to imagine a group less inclined to wandering than farmers, but in fact they were the ones who sparked the age of nomads. Natural catastrophes, crops ravaged by bioplagues, armed conflicts and martial law allowing corporations to speculate and privatize land - all this forced them into a life on the road.

when you ask johnny why he wants to take down arasaka, he begins by referencing this himself!!

it’s a little awkward to imagine a nomad V doesn’t also know what he’s referencing, but hey, V is the fool because we are as players and that’s only one life path... so sure.

johnny also has unique dialogue during this scene about a nomad origin V, telling them that he’s been trying to understand how V thinks, and came to the conclusion that “their family was a crutch” and essentially made them stupid because they always had a safety net (lmao johnny calling v privileged basically)

BUT this also may reference why johnny would find it confusing as hell that V doesn’t immediately share the views he does when nomads, in terms of values, seem to be more aligned with johnny than V is. but once again V is the fool for a reason and this is all my own speculation so YOU KNOW.

MORE IMPORTANTLY, at the end of chippin’ in, when you ask johnny what he meant by letting down his friends... santiago is named directly

i thought this was interesting since the only glimpse of their relationship that we get is seeing johnny meeting santiago via the alt flashback for the first time.

so now it’s obvious that while johnny and rogue were with the nomads their friendship developed, and johnny went on to disappoint santiago in some way by being his normal dickhead self

but HOW? how did he disappoint santiago? is santiago even still alive?? did smasher kill santiago and is this why rogue mentions during chippin’ in that she wants smasher to “settle a score” moreso than avenge johnny??

the only additional hints i have are from this shard, which you can find at the aldecaldos camp: “nomads at ground zero”

i’m just gonna transcribe here and bold for emphasis:

It was no secret that Night Corp offered generous pay and, in some cases, free cyberware and biomonitor upgrades to anyone willing to help clean up the crater of radioactive rubble at AHQ ground zero. Some firsthand accounts recall the incessant ticking of Geiger counters, like the loud buzz of cicadas in summer. In retrospect, we can only guess how many "crater cleaners" lost their lives to radiation sickness shortly thereafter. Both the city government and Night Corp have claimed casualties were kept to a minimum, while providing no official statistics to substantiate the claim. That being said, they have never been under pressure to release such figures. After all, most rescue, engineering, and rubble cleanup teams were not local Night Citizens, but nomads. Surprised you didn't know? Don't be. It is a fact many history courses tend to overlook. The city employed hundreds of nomad mercenaries, primarily from clans in Aldecaldo nation. These nomads were hungry for gainful work and the city needed experts who were not only experienced but brave enough to knowingly put their lives on the line - all so Arasaka could one day erect another tower in its place. But history is not without its sense of irony. These nomads, who so deliberately live outside our so-called "system," came to its very rescue. Not for the first time. And not for the last.

a main theme we find in this game is the idea that the system of corps and exploitation cannot be stopped by grandiose rebellious gestures--no amount of samurai songs, assassinating mayors, or even planting nukes in towers will change things. yet johnny, his friends and mercs at atlantis in the 2020s, including rogue, chose to rebel any way they could, thinking it better than not. johnny criticizes her lack of rebellious spirit CONSTANTLY in 2077.

but ultimately, johnny, trapped in mikoshi, didn’t get to see the outcome of what detonating the AHQ nukes did to night city’s fragile ecosystem. rogue, however, did--and likely watched their former allies, the aldecaldos, be forced to take dangerous work at AHQ’s ground zero (from lack of other opportunities as detailed in this shard), then die from radiation sickness throughout the following decades, all as a result of what she and johnny did to try and fight the system. and she also watched all the former mercenaries of atlantis be hunted down by arasaka.

so rogue sees firsthand what the cost of rebellion is and johnny doesn’t. and nomads, considered the most free of any of the factions we encounter in the game, are the cost.

#lore post #johnny silverhand #cyberpunk 2077 #cyberpunk2077 #cp2077 #cyberpunk lore

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tooruluv · 4 years

Text

Kei Tsukishima x F!Reader ( part 5 )

❝ they were the sun and moon, destined to be together but only ever totally meeting once every hundred years or so. ❞

description: in a world where you only see color when you're in love, you've grown frustrated of the greyscale. but falling in love with someone you barely know was never something you planned. and, him not returning the feelings definitely wasn’t planned.

genre: soulmate au... except not quite. everyone is born colorblind. you can only see color once you fall in love (and it grows brighter until you see full color as the love grows). however, that doesn't ensure a lasting connection. it simply means that love exists in that moment, until it doesn't.

word count: 1,282

warnings/notes: bake sale shenanigans

prev | next

“ i’ll make the most of the sadness ” - slow dancing in a burning room, john mayer

┏━━━━━⋇⋆⋆⋇❦⋇⋆⋆⋇━━━━━┓

Of all the things that you found yourself mulling over, almost kissing Kei Tsukishima was something that you never expected. Yet there you were. Pacing your bedroom by yourself with one hand pressed to your lips chasing the near ghost of his.

You should talk to him about it.

It isn’t that you were embarrassed, nor were you even upset. You were just confused.

He was so close to kissing you. He was so very close. And he would’ve, too, if your mom hadn’t walked in. He would’ve done it.

He would have, right?

Sighing, you flopped onto your bed. Maybe Mai and Haru were right about “baking”.

You juggled your containers of desserts, struggling to hold them in your arms. The cupcakes and brownies were definitely moving around in the plastic tubs, but you were just trying to get them from your house to the bake sale table.

Tsukishima suddenly appeared at your side, grabbing only the top container.

“Oh. Hey.” You managed to get the others in a stable position. “Hey.”

“You said hey twice.”

“Yeah.” You were going to talk to him. You were going to talk to him about the almost kiss. Yes. That was what you were going to do. “Actually, I wanted to…”

“You guys made cupcakes!!”

You were going to commit arson if you got interrupted one more fucking time.

Yamaguchi walked up to you both, smile plastered on his face. He must’ve already brought whatever he made (his cookies, if you remembered correctly) because his hands were empty.

“And brownies.” Tsukki said.

Yamaguchi looked between you two. He noticed the abnormal distance between you and his best friend, and how you aren’t looking at him in his eyes or making some remark. He is observant if not anything.

When you met Kei Tsukishima for the first time, you simply wanted to be his friend. You thought he looked cool, and he ordered the last thing someone your age would order. You were infatuated, absolutely and completely.

You remember watching in the black and white, wondering and fantasizing about what color his hair was or what color shirt he was wearing that morning.

And now here you were, seeing color in your friend’s eyes.

Friend.

That was exactly what you wanted to be.

You ignored the pressure on your chest as you pushed down the fact that you were in love with him. You ignored the pain in your heart as you realized that you could see a little bit more gold in his eyes.

“You guys made these? They’re deli--hey that’s mine!!!--licious!”

You were sitting in a chair with Tsukki, Mai, and Haru around you. None of you were really talking, mainly just scrolling through your phones and laughing about random things as you waited for school to open and start your sale.

But the second you heard Nishinoya, you whipped your head around. Tsukki did, too.

Noya and Tanaka were eating your desserts, faces stuffed with the baked goods you created. You exchanged one knowing look with Tsukki before the both of you jumped up to stop them.

That’s how you ended up shopping at the local grocery store with Tsukishima.

Nishinoya and Tanaka were lucky that you considered them your friends (or at least, friendly acquaintances). Because you could have their head on a stick for eating every single thing you made.

“I cannot believe them.”

Tsukki rolled his eyes as you both scanned the shelves. “I can. It’s typical of them. Nishinoya and Tanaka are… more than enough.”

You chuckle a little. You liked this. Being normal.

He reached above your head to grab a box of cupcakes from the shelf. Okay. So maybe it wasn’t normal.

You felt your heart skip a beat when his arm stayed above you for just a millisecond longer than it should’ve been.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you.” You told him as you grabbed one from a lower shelf.

“About?”

“Well, about how we…”

“Are you two finding everything okay?” A worker asked, walking down the aisle.

“Yeah, yup. We’re doing alright.”

You were going to do something to end up on the national news.

“You know, I wasn’t expecting you to buy something instead of baking your own.” Ukai said to you when you placed your store bought brownies and cupcakes onto the table.

“We didn’t. Originally.”

“We?”

“Oh, right. Tsukki and I baked for a long time yesterday.” You shrugged. “But someone decided that they were simply too good to put out for the rest of the school.”

“And by someone you mean those two.” Ukai pointed his head towards the two in question.

You smiled, taking a seat next to the coach. Your own coach sat with the baseball coach at the other table, talking to the volleyball third years.

“Are you and Tsukishima… you know…?” Ukai questioned.

You immediately shook your head. There was no way you were having this conversation with your family friend, someone you see at family outings. Not today and not any other day.

“I’m not having this conversation.”

“Okay, quick question then.” He leaned back in the chair. “Do you think we should wear our black jerseys or should I try to get orange jerseys for home games?”

“Keep the black, the orange is bright. Noya will look good standing out.”

“Hm.”

Fuck. So much for that.

“Coach Ukai” had always been Keishin Ukai to you. You didn’t know exactly how it happened, but their family had always been close to yours. Growing up, they would be at all of your family events and you remember going to volleyball games and Ukai coming to your softball games.

So, when he came to your house for dinner one night with your parents and he asked “Hey, I heard you want to volunteer. I’m coaching the boy’s volleyball team if you want to help after your softball practices.” you couldn’t really say no.

“That’s perfect!” your mom said.

You kicked her under the table.

The bake sale went as planned. It made the teams quite a bit of money, just enough for the needed buses.

Tsukishima watched as you sold the random baked goods. He watched you smile at every interaction and mess with Coach Ukai. Once, you caught his eye and smiled directly at him.

You couldn’t feel his heart hammering against his ribs.

“Go talk to him.” Mai muttered to you as you cleaned up some things at the table.

“What?”

“Go fucking talk to him.” Mai repeated. “I know that it’s eating away at you. Go ask him about the kiss. Right now.”

“We’re busy.”

“Oh, no.” Mai took the trash out of your hand. “No. Nope. Go fucking talk to him. Now.”

And you were being pushed.

Tsukki sat on a chair, legs spread and hands crossed over his chest. But the second your eyes met his, he sat up straight and pushed his glasses up.

“Can I talk to you?” you asked.

He gave you a nod and he stood, following you around the corner. Everyone was in class, so there was no chance of being caught unless someone from the bake sale interrupted.

“I would like to tell you something first.” He started. You just blinked up at him. “We’re friends.”

You furrowed your brows. “Yes. We’re friends.” Friends don’t nearly kiss while covered in baking ingredients.

“Yes. Friends.”

Oh.

That’s all he had to say. He was emphasizing it.

So you would too.

“Friends.” You said again, nodding. “Best friends?”

He smiled (something you loved, but you ignored that). “That spot is reserved for Yamaguchi. You can be my second in command, though.”

“That sounds cooler, anyway.”

tag list: @vhskenma @elianetsantana @mini-eggs-reads @ysasian @hhwanggu @i-stole-your-juice-box @definitelynotbianca @denkithunder @smuttyanimeslut @yourlocalbabybird @theydy-madamonsieur @expiredbananamilk

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ambitionsource · 2 years

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Dear AMBITION readers,

Well, here we are. Somehow, some way, we’ve managed to get to AMBITION Season 4.

It’s genuinely hard to emphasize just how insane that is to me — we had high hopes, of course, and plenty of story to tell, but we never could’ve predicted that we’d be so deep in for so long and that so many of you all would be equally invested and down for the ride. We’ve fallen deeply in love with these characters, determined to tell their stories and finish what we started, and it means more than either Es and I can describe that all of you care so much about them, too. That you’ve trusted us to tell this story, through all the ups and downs and highs and lows; through the tense moments of insult and injury and the wacky moments of bagpipes, school snow-ins, and musical hallucination. That we presented you with a new world, new characters, and an admittedly quirky story structure (I haven’t run into many musicals-written-like-a-TV-show-but-not-actually-a-show, I must confess), and you all ran with it and came to love it just as much as we do.

With all that excitement and love on full display, it’s my privilege to welcome you all into the fourth season. Brace yourself, because things are different than we’ve known — they have to be, considering we’ve left the safe nest of AAA behind and there’s a whole lot of world out there to explore. This season introduces new worlds, new challenges, and interesting new characters (62, in fact, at last count), and we’re thrilled to let you meet them all. But naturally, the story still belongs to our main ensemble. Although we’re over halfway through the show, we’re really only in the middle of their journeys, and as anyone who has left high school and entered into the real world knows, there’s a lot to discover and unpack at this point of our lives.

With that, I wanted to give fair notice that this season is slightly more mature in nature than past seasons have been. The characters are growing up, and we’re growing with them, so certain themes may be more or less prevalent as they stretch into adulthood and face the challenges of the world beyond Adams. As always, though, if any content is deemed worthy of a warning, you’ll find that at the top of each respective episode so you know what you’re getting into.

Additionally, in terms of schedule, our plan for this season (due to how much story there is to tell and our own personal schedules as writers) is to post new episodes once a month. So basically, you can expect to find the latest episode on the last AMBITION Saturday of the month — but in the build up to each new episode, we’ll be doing promo so you can continue to stay immersed in the AMBITION world. Also, you won’t have to deal with that gap right away, as the premiere was so long we actually split it into two parts. So you’ll be getting Part 1 today, April 30th, and Part 2 will follow next Saturday on May 7th. So thank you in advance for your patience with us, and we promise it’ll be worth the mini-wait!

But some thing do stay the same! As per usual, you can follow along with the music here and on our Youtube (where we’ve also started an AAA podcast if you haven’t checked it out already!), and we’ve got updates, edits, and more on our Tumblr and Instagram. Along with promo, we’ll also be posting things such as casting info for the new characters there, so be sure to check it out. It’s also a great place to come interact and talk about the show — as well as find other AMBITION warriors! We’ve been so touched by the friendships that have formed over the last three years through this series, and we hope you all continue to connect and share in the fun together with this new season.

I know I say this every time, but we cannot thank you enough for your support, and hope you realize how much more special that makes this experience. If you’ve enjoyed time with these kiddos, seeing their story unfold, then you are a part of the AMBITION journey too. So thank you, thank you, thank you, and enjoy the second to last season. We can’t wait to share it with you.

Welcome back to AMBITION. This is it!

-- Maggie 💖

#s4 promo #by maggie #Creator post #announcement

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khashanakalashtar · 3 years

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notes on an untamed/word of honor crossover

note that I’m not done with tian ya ke which might have a large effect on my inspiration depending on how different it is from woh

and that where mdzs/cql is concerned I am a canon anarchist. no apology.

also timelines are wonky for mdzs and cql ANYWAY so I will not be paying canon timelines any attention, thanks. it’s mostly the mdzs world with the woh characters thrown in because I don’t care about fictional politics and a lot of the woh plot is fictional politics.

I cannot emphasize enough how much I don’t care about fictional politics. you will not find a real analysis of how the sects from the two stories would interact here.

this will not be well formatted or thought out. this is not a threadfic. this is brainstorming out loud because I don’t have the focus to do it if I can’t pretend I’m talking to people and I don’t think anyone on discord wants me to take over the danmei/ssh channel while I spitball.

thoughts under the cut so no one mid-show for either of them gets spoiled. beware. because like everything about woh is a major spoiler all the time.

background:

-wen sect includes qishan wen wrh, wc, wx and dafan wen wq, wn, a-yuan, and wkx and parents

-one of the non-clan families of the jin sect is the luo. meet Luo Fumeng and Luo Mian Qingyang.

--that’s gotta be her birth name, right? following that the doubling is a cute way of saying a person’s real name (see: yingying, xianxian) and it definitely isn’t after the poem or she would have caught on immediately. no wonder she’s offended that wwx just walks in and calls her that.

-one of the non-clan families of the jiang sect is the gu. meet Gu Miaomiao and Gu Xiang.

--wkx named his sister after his mother and I’m not okay

-the five lakes alliance and other woh sects are minor sects like the yao and ouyang clans in mdzs. this from a dropped line in woh about how “none of the major clans even came to the heroes’ conference” tbh all their infighting about glazed armor doesn’t even register for the big five. which is why it’s surprising that the emperor cares. (read somewhere that there IS an emperor in the mdzs world, mxtx just didn’t care enough about him to include him.)

cloud recesses era:

-wkx comes to cloud recesses with wq and wn instead of wc

-wen yan kexing anyone? zhou xu zishu? that may sound weird but jin yao guangyao says I can do what I want

-zzs is off with the emperor already so he isn’t there

-wkx takes an interest in lxc instead

-wkx mildly betrays lxc. somehow. this makes him just slightly more prone to being suspicious of his loved ones and just slightly less prone to choosing conflict avoidance over going apeshit.

-wkx and wwx make friends in a similar never-going-to-be-really-close way wwx and nhs are friends. they’re enough alike that they understand each other and enough alike that they get on each other’s nerves after enough time. also wkx is on the other side from wwx and he knows it.

-wkx also probably notices wq and/or wn helping out wwx at some point and lets them get away with it because he has a soft spot for them.

fast forward to nightless city:

-wkx helps wwx fake his death.

tbc

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phoenixtakaramono · 4 years

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THE UNTOLD TALE - CH3 PREVIEW

There was an important takeaway to be had from tonight’s interaction: Shen Yuan had asserted his place as the lord of this residence and as Luo Binghe’s future ally.

Several thoughts had, however, been plaguing him ever since Shen Yuan gifted Luo Binghe the handscrolls, leaving like the composed gentleman he was while the half-demon pondered over the newfound revelations for the night. Those thoughts filled Shen Yuan’s brain with a renewed vigor that his exhausted body did not feel, roiling through his brain as he changed into his night clothes. Even now, lying down with his hands folded over his stomach, they consumed his mind as he stared up at the azure, gauzy canopy that looked eerily similar to the one in the guest bedchamber that Luo Binghe now slept in.

Wisps of hazy white rose from the lotus-shaped censer he’d brought to his bed. The coals within were still fresh in the copper, keeping him warm in the night, with the fragrance of sandalwood circulating within the room.

His unyielding companion, the blue text box, hovered above. Shen Yuan kept his gaze averted from it; he had read and reread the Chinese characters countless times that if he closed his eyes, he could still see the most recent notification engraved in his mind’s eye.

【Prediction! Future Event <<A NIGHT OF PASSION>> has been changed into <<LOADING CHEKHOV'S GUN>>. You have reached the conditions to clear the scenario. Countdown commencing. Reward: B-Points +50.】

The planes of his face were bathed in a soft blue glow as he ruminated. Shen Yuan couldn’t find it within him to feel any guilt or to throw blame at anyone other than himself. He’d unlocked the <<TRUE END>> main scenario and, judging by how the <<SYSTEM>> was not giving him a choice, he had to build that rapport between themselves and see that friendship through.

These are the seeds you’ve sown, Shen Yuan, he reminded himself. Improvise. Adapt. Overcome. He could only dig his hands into the soil and watch the seeds slowly bear fruit.

Bing gē—or, rather, Luo Binghe—was not a 2D character on paper; he was now a real person who breathed and talked and had a will of his own. Even so, Shen Yuan didn’t know the extent of the ramifications if an extraordinary “prodigy” gained self-awareness that he was the male protagonist of a fictional erotica series.

It’d be interesting. If someone found out one day that they were a precious existence in a world which catered to them, they’d naturally become arrogant. All the attractive people belonged to them, hearts were won over for no real reason, and enemies would be seen as less of a threat and more as an annoyance. Shen Yuan could envision it; Luo Binghe would probably behave more recklessly, confident in the fact that he was protected by plot armor. He’d be a spoilt menace in a male power fantasy world—until the novelty wore off, and then the boredom set in.

The corners of Shen Yuan’s mouth curved. He didn’t know how likeminded Luo Binghe was, but if he thought like he did, he’d exploit his advantages.

A protagonist’s existence was akin to a cockroach, dragged from door’s death each time without fail.

This was not merely a case of schadenfreude—another difficult foreign term he’d learned during his pursuit as a novelist—where he reveled in another person’s misfortunes. It was a well-established trope in all forms of literature that when a person was casually dropped into a life-or-death situation, they would resurface as calamities. Since Luo Binghe was an important main character, he would naturally benefit.

...Sorry, youngster. Shen Yuan raised a white flag in commiseration for him in his heart. I didn’t mean to conscript you, but you must continue to work hard. Nationalistic pride exists among many Chinese writers.

Even pre-enlightened Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky had not been exempt from that.

In most narratives, the protagonist’s role was to rise above the rest and “smash the system.” Shen Yuan squinted up at the UI, his eyes beginning to water from its bright glow. He blinked rapidly, but the strain in his eyes refused to ease.

He swore in his head. This better not be the sort of tale where he and Luo Binghe had to compete to establish who was the one true protagonist, having to assert narrative dominance. Shen Yuan had no intention of pulling aggro to himself.

Raising a forearm up to shadow his vision, he groaned. He declared to no one, “Airplane brother, you’ve done your first son a great disservice.”

(He’d done a disservice to the original Shen Qingqiu and Yue Qingyuan as well as among many others.)

The events that had played out tonight strengthened Shen Yuan’s conviction. He could now see how people easily fell for his act; the charisma of a stallion protagonist was potent. Even so, he had capitalized on goodwill—and Luo Binghe’s strange fixation—hoping continuous acts of kindness being demonstrated toward him would soften him toward Shen Yuan and prove his intentions were sincere.

Should he prove himself to be of use, surely even somebody like Bing gē would not discard him during his rise to power or see him as a threat?

The only method he could foresee showing his fellow protagonist that his services were indispensable was by lending him his wisdom—and his predictions on the account of Shen Yuan being a <<FORTUNETELLER>>. His goal to leave a favorable impression with the other protagonist was already well underway, with the aim of establishing how it would be in Luo Binghe’s best interests to remember Shen Yuan’s acts of compassion and to return them tenfold in the future unless he wished to owe the celestial favors.

He recalled the last question he’d asked of him before Shen Yuan left, regarding the compatibility of his fated one.

Would it be strange if I wrote a predestined romance, for once? As much as Shen Yuan favored subverting expectations, he was aware of what sold commercially. There was a structure that made their literature different from those in the Western market whose shocking narratives could not only arouse pity in their audience, but also a sense of awe, excitement, fear, and suffering.

Their protagonists were not always someone of high society; they often hailed from humble origins as a device for the writer to underscore the merits of working hard and to criticize the system—a fictional one though, to avoid absolute censorship by the Chinese government. Their heroes began as nothing more than a windblown leaf in the social structure and years of ethical traditions set in place. They started on the bottom rungs of society to draw people’s attention to their lives, to the injustice and unfairness, which made their struggles all the more impactful to the reader.

The fates of the leading characters were tied to the juxtaposition of the harmonious ideal of society and the reality of a flawed system. Chinese tales were inherently romantic oftentimes, with tragic conflicts written to emphasize the beauty of a bond and rousing sympathy and pity for their plight. The archetype of a tragic hero was meant to be presented so profoundly that great reverence would well up spontaneously in one’s heart.

In his opinion, Luo Binghe had suffered plenty.

Under normal circumstances, as Peerless Cucumber, Shen Yuan was the sort of novelist where it would not be considered strange for him to challenge the romantic notion of soulmates by making his leading characters comrades or adversaries instead of lovers.

It was like the overseas Inception movie; he’d satirized enough old and tired clichés, it almost became expected of him to subvert expectations for all of his publications.

Guilt weighed on his mind. While he understood the implicit reality of his situation, he still felt like he was, in some way, disappointing his audience. The shame he felt was bizarre.

He swallowed. “My cherished readers...,” Shen Yuan murmured to the void as though they could hear him, “forgive this writer if I don’t subvert your expectations in this aspect just this once.”

The harem was the closest Luo Binghe had to a family. After the parental kindness of the washerwoman was torn away from him early in his life, after having endured the unhealthy environment that followed, the only love and tenderness he received in his life came in the arms of beautiful women. Tokens of affection were given in the form of intimate acts. It was no wonder Bing gē’s character had ended up twisted. He collected lovers with a greed not unlike a hedonistic minister who accepted bribes.

What a complicated man. Shen Yuan’s heart ached for the “blackened hero.”

There were so many women in the harem. In the presence of Luo Binghe, each one was gentle, kind, respectful, and submissive. But it was unrealistic for one husband, who had undergone the traumas that he had, to share his heart equally amongst them and not expect any misgivings.

What this Luo Binghe needed was a foil to his temperament, somebody patient, charismatic, and well-educated. Since Luo Binghe would be uniting the Three Realms, they needed to be proactive keeping him in check from becoming a self-indulgent, fatuous ruler. They cannot be sensitive to criticisms and speculation. A sensible head was needed on their shoulders to guide their merciless husband in understanding right from wrong and from any sycophants looking to lead him astray. It was integral to help the protagonist maintain a harmonious empire so that, together, they could lead a golden age of reform.

Shen Yuan wondered if there even existed such an extraordinary person.

Luo Binghe’s reputation was already in tatters in the Mortal Realm on the account of having a demonic heritage and having razed down the great righteous sects. Whatever goodwill he’d originally cultivated with his deceptive “nice guy” act had to be regained. Winning the war against the son of heaven and finding a good match would be integral in swaying public opinion to his favor. In public, they must present a united front, ruthless against their adversaries but dependable towards their subjects. It was only over time that the Sacred Rulers would prove themselves worthy of being idolized and beloved by the masses.

The <<SYSTEM>> had said that he and Luo Binghe should work together and in the end, they would unlock the epilogue that blessed them with their star-crossed lovers.

Until such a person was found, he supposed he could step into the role as his counsel whenever Luo Binghe needed advice. It was like tossing a peach and getting a plum back. Celestial or not, Shen Yuan used to be the son of a family of manufacturing executives. His profession might have been as an author, but he was educated in the principles of economics. Aside from sharing the <<PROTAGONIST’S HALO>>, his modern knowledge and his knowledge of both novel series were his cheats.

Like the spring breeze that thawed the frozen soil, he would be someone who reached into the abyss and grabbed that bloodstained hand. He could set a standard for Luo Binghe to emulate as the type of wise leader he should be, and his handsome junior could learn from his modern examples and put some of them into practice for his kingdom.

He’ll enable him into becoming the best person that he could be. And maybe, just maybe, the new era might be salvageable and worthy of pride for generations to come for not only the immortals and demons, but for the mortals as well.

“I’d redeemed you once,” Shen Yuan declared, his lashes fanning against his cheeks. He closed his eyes in reminiscence of his own fanfiction, inhaling the light, woody scent of the censer nearby. “I can do it again.”

In the meantime, he reflected, I must collect more merits. I cannot be lazy and lag behind in accomplishments.

While Luo Binghe fought his battles, Shen Yuan would be fighting his own—whatever they might be. He would not be outshone by his junior in his own meteoric rise.

“...System?” he inquired drowsily, his voice barely above a whisper. Turning on his side, he stared at a faraway wall. The glazed white surface of the porcelain pillow felt cold against his cheek, its smoothness reminiscent of jade. “Can you hear me?”

Ping.

【This <<SYSTEM>> provides the Esteemed Host a 24-hour service.】

“I don’t remember Airplane brother going into detail about what the education system is like in this setting. Is it supposed to be historically accurate to the ancient feudal model or…?”

Ping.

As he listened to the long encyclopedic explanation, what he’d heard confirmed his worst fears. Education was the privilege of the elites. Immortal cultivators prioritized studying matters of the “spiritual heart” and Qi refinement, in the martial and mystical arts, breaking through the bottleneck of each cultivation stage until their dedication allowed them to reach the pinnacle that was the Ninth Stage.

With that narrow-minded focus on self-enlightenment, the basic education curriculum of the twenty-first century would be seen as innovative in the pre-established setting of this strange world.

In the early webnovels, Bing gē had stagnated as a late-stage Core Formation expert. Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky, in his laziness to research the many intricate nuances of the Cultivation World, had waved it all away by attributing his protagonist’s OPness to his ancient, heaven-fallen demonic heritage and to the deus ex machina that was his legendary sword. Even then, Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky still occasionally confused the Foundation Establishment with the Nascent Soul stages.

It wouldn’t be until the end of the series—after the outcry of the netizens—that the unsatisfied Luo Binghe made the breakthrough into the proper Nascent Soul stage with the help of his wives and their many gratuitous papapa scenes.

Then in the epilogue, the author had infuriatingly time-skipped all the way to the penultimate Ninth Stage, describing how Luo Binghe became a legend among legends who had finally attained eternal youth and aged back into his late twenties in his new immortal body after having miraculously passed the Heavenly Tribulations—disasters from heaven which were akin to nuclear radiation for those of demon blood. After an unspecified many years of rule, he’d left his legacy behind—with the uncountable size of his harem and a boundless number of his descendants “mourning the loss of a great and oftentimes misunderstood man.”

Just remembering it made Shen Yuan’s blood pressure spike dangerously. Taking deep, calming breaths, he rolled back onto his back as he forced himself to attain catharsis from listening to the mind-numbing exposition the <<SYSTEM>> was extolling to him like a history program. His fingers clenched the bed sheet.

Eventually he found himself feeling adrift, the words beginning to lose their coherency to him as he phased in and out of consciousness, his mind becoming wrapped in a haze of smoke. Soon his tense muscles relaxed.

The countdown had reached 00:00:00 when sleep finally claimed him.

Note: Small details of this scene might be subject to revision when the final draft comes out. Ch1-2 can be found on AO3. Link is in my bio!

#svsss #luo binghe #shen yuan #bingyuan #shen qingqiu #scumbag system #bingqiu #the untold tale #preview #phoenixtakaramono #svsss fic #obvs there is some canon divergence here #or rather a creative interpretation on PIDW canon #the dream sequence takes place after #I’m excited for the foreshadowing #SY is essentially describing himself #that’s the joke

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warrioreowynofrohan · 4 years

Text

Rhythm of War Review

PART 1

It feels a little separate from the rest of the book to me at the moment because I read it pre-release, but I think it did a good job setting up the rest of the plot. I greatly enjoyed Navani’s perspective and ideas throughout the book, and the first section established her much more firmly as a character than any of the previous books; her couple of chapters in Oathbringer were more focused on politics and her relationship with Dalinar, so it was great yo see much more of her scientific side.

When I first read Part 1 it felt very Kaladin-heavy, but after completing the book I see how it was necessary to establish his burnout in order to set up the rest of the plot. And Chapter 12 (A Way to Help), in addition to being our only chance in the book to see our trio together, did a great job setting up Kaladin’s later work with mentally ill people, both by establishing the need and showing what kind of help was needed. I was nonetheless quite frustrated by Kaladin reacting to Shallan’s DID with “that would be nice...”. She’s having serious problems, Kal! She’s your friend and could use support, not you regarding her issues as a neat way to take a holiday from one’s own brain! Kaladin’s very kind and caring with those he chooses to protect, as we see with Bridge 4 in TWOK and the mentally ill people in Chapter 25, but sometimes I think he’s not a very good friend. I know he was not in a good place, but in Oathbringer when they were in Shadesmar Shallan had just had a complete breakdown and she still went out of her way to emotionally support Kal, so it would be nice to see his friendships become a bit more two-way. (For similar reasons, I liked seeing the moments of Shallan-to-Adolin emotional support in Shadesmar in ROW, because a lot of their relationship in OB was her relying on him; it felt balanced in ROW as both supported each other.)

PART 2

I loved the Shadesmar arc! The emotional arcs for both main characters were very strong - I had been looking forward to seeing Adolin’s reaction to (in-universe) Oathbringer, and it did not disappoint; the conflict between genuinely loving Dalinar and being unable to forgive what he’d done was well-drawn. I was so pissed off at Dalinar in that last conversation! You burned his mom to death, you do not get to take the moral high ground and lecture him. And I do see a difference between killing innocents, as Taravangian does, and killing someone who’s effectively declared war on you and has a history of treason.

I also liked Adolin’s sense of being generally at sea with his purpose in the world. He’s been trained primarily as a warrior and general, and his combat skills have been made virtually obsolete by the Radiants. And at the same time, the reader can see what makes Adolin special, and it’s not combat skills - though those do give him a big heroic moment in a pinch - it’s his care and compassion for others. The way he interacts with Maya and slowly brings her life is absolutely beautiful. Chapter 35 was such a wonderful Shadolin moment (and starspren are amazing!); he really gets her and understands what she needs. Chapter 24 was sweet too, though super cheesy.

I spent the entire Shadesmar arc side-eying Veil and Radiant, especially with Veil’s takeover stunt at the start, but in the end they genuinely were supporting and helping Shallan. So in retrospect I do like scenes like the one with Veil trying to draw Shallan out by drawing Adolin badly.

Spoeking of drawing, I love the spren art, it’s some of the best art so far, and fascianting to see how they all look!

Kaladin finding non-violent ways to protect, culminating in pioneering Rosharan therapy - and Teft insisting on staying to support him - was everything I wanted for him. His arc could have just been that, and I’d have been perfectly happy. Chapter 25 (Devotary of Mercy) is still my favourite in the entire book.

Unfortunately, then Odium’s forces had to show up and SPOIL EVERYTHING. I’m rather appalled by how quickly Urithiru fell - the enemy forces were literally in the pillar room by the time anyone noticed them.

PART 3

Part 3 was a real slog for me, partly because it is a slog and partly because I hit it at the height of my sleep deptivation. (It’s really...not a good thing to be reading on zero sleep at the literal darkest-hour-before-dawn.) Kaladin’s arc in Urithiru is just so exhausting; he’s so clearly worn to the boneand everything feels so hopeless. Kaladin’s had bad times before - Bridge 4 in TWOK, for example - but then the reader could see progress even if Kaladin couldn’t. (Kaladin: I’m getting nowhere and failing at everything! Everyone else: Kaladin, you were literally just miraculously resurrected.) Here, though - well, I genuinely spent the whole book from Part 3 through to the climax thinking that they would lose Urithiru.

Navani’s arc, and Venli’s, I did enjoy.

The other section of Part 3, in Emul, just felt rather disjointed. It had some interesting moments, but it didn’t have a sense of cohesion or of where it was going. I was entertained by Dalinar’s musings on the merits of despositism and the need to free Queen Fen from having - horrors! - a parliament. (I wonder if the Fourth Ideal will be something like “I will recognize that it can sometimes be beneficial to have people oppose my decisions.”)

PART 4

Again, adored the Shadesmar arc. Really strong character arcs for both Adolin and Shallan, combined with excellent plots and a strong sense of momentum. I was pretty sure Maya would be crucial in the trial, but that didn’t make the moment any less powerful (though Sanders probably shouldn’t have tried quite as hard to replicate his “You. Cannot. Have. My. Pain.” moment from Oathbringer). I need to put together a proper post on the theme of choice in Oathbringer, because that moment - combined with Kaladin’s fourth ideal and the conflict with Lirin over the way he’s inspiring the resistance - really crystallized it for me. To treat a person’s choice and sacrifices as something done to them is to devalue their volition, their agency. Maya is put in the horrifying situation of being used as a prop and treated as evidence of a point that she is diametrically opposed to and turned into a weapon against someone she loves, and it’s enough to drive her to regain her voice and speak for herself. I am very curious to know what specifically led the spren to agree to the Recreance!

I did not remotely guess what Shallan’s secret was, even though in retrospect the Cryptic deadeye should have made it incredibly obvious. I think her fear that she’d lose Adolin if it came out was overblown - he already knows she killed both her parents, he’s not going to be fazed by “I was so distraught over having to kill my own mother in self-defence at age ten that I broke my Radiant oaths”. But obviously it’s not something Shalkan would be able to consider duspassionately. Her arc was rather terrifying once I realized that Formless was, well, basically her, but more specifically, Shallan’s idea of the monster that she was, and her breakdown was driving her to “accept who she was” as being that monster. I like Shallan and was never that into Veil - though she was fairly good in this book and went out well - so I’m not sad to see the back of her.

I haven’t managed to work through all the espionage/mole elements. Yes, Pattern used the box to talk to Wit, and Radiant killed Ialai so Shallan wouldn’t, but who’s Mraize’s spy close to Dalinar?

This arc ended too abruptly. I think Sanderson could easily have traded a Kaladin chapter in Part 3 for an extra chapter wrapping up events in Shadesmar; maybe one where Shallan first goes to see Testament.

I enjoyed the Urithiru arc in Part 4 as well. Switching to Bridge 4 points of view other than Kaladin was a good move - we already know he’s worn to ribbons, so we don’t need to be inside his head to see it. “The Dog and the Dragon” was amazing, and the most appropriate story ever for Kaladin. (I get how Wit’s schtick of telling incredibly topical stories and then saying “no, I don’t have a point, what point?” would be really aggravating in person.) It was nice to see him be gentle with Kaladin for a change, the way he is with Shallan - his two previous encounters with Kaladin read as rather baiting, which annoyed me.

Dabbid was - I don’t know quite how to say this, but his inclusion struck an amazing balance in this book. Navani’s arc is all about two amazingly smart people doing science and making incredible breakthroughs, and that is sincerely valued and given importance by the narrative, and then you get chapters like Dabbid’s and one of Taravangian’s emphasizing that a person’s value and ability to contribute is not determined by their intelligence.

Navani’s arc continued to be excellent. All of her research, and the way the story took you through the process, and her complex relationship with Raboniel, was great.

I loved Venli’s character development, and growing willingness to take risks for the sake of others. To me, her arc parallels Dalinar’s in the last book in some ways. If we can love the story of a bloodthirsty conqueror growing to become a good person, why can’t we equally love the story of a coward coming to become a good person? There seems to be a tendency to be more drawn to strength, even in its most terrible forms, than to weakness. To me, Venli’s confession to Rlain and acceptance of his disgust at her was one of the book’s great moments. (And I can’t understand people saying her arc took up two much space. She had 5 chapters in Part 3, and 4 in Part 4. That’s not very many! I’ll grant that the flasbacks packed less punch than some earlier flashback sequences because we already knew the main events - Brandon acknowledged that even before the book came out - but I still liked them well enough, and Venli’s present-day arc was excellent.)

Anyway, the amount of space I’ve spent on this section relative to Part 3 is another strong inducation of the differences in how I feel about them!

PART 5

I should probably start this section with a discussion of Moash. I’ll try to keep it summarized. here - I could, and may, write a short essay on his development through The Stormlight Archive. The first thing that jumps out about Moash’s arc in this book is his reaction to Renarin’s vision in Part 1. I think that vision is showing Moash who he could still be, in a similar way to Shallan’s inspirational drawings of people - both use the Surge of Illumination. So it’s not that Moash is irredeemable; Renarin is specifucally holding out to him the possibility of redemption.

And Moash’s reaction is to run away in terror. Because he desperately wants his decision to be irrevocable. He desperately wants there to only be one possible path forward for him. Because if there are alternative paths, it means he can choose them, and that would mean facing guilt, facing the fact that his past choices were wrong, and his current choices are wrong. And that is exactly what Moash sought to avoid by giving up his pain and sense of guilt to Odium.

Moash is, nonetheless, very much Moash and not Vyre, as evidenced by his continuing obsession with Kaladin. As with his above need to not be wrong, here he needs to feel that he’s right, and the only way he can feel that he’s right is if Kaladin - whom he still deeply admires - makes the same decision as him, and if Moash can convince himself that he’s doing Kaladin a favour in driving him to that point. It’s ironic that he’s given up almost all feeling abd become almost enturely detached, but his worst actions are driven by his attitude towards the one person in the world who he still does have very strong feelings about. By the end of the book, he’s comprehensively broken, to the point that even when his ability to feel is restored he’s unable to even feel genuine remose over the cold-blooded murder of a friend. I don’t know where he’ll go from here - it would be ironic if he was only ever really appealing to Rayse-Odium, and Taravangian-Odium found Moash too much of a flat villain for his purposes and cast him off.

As the plot climaxes go, I thought the ones for Navani and Venli were excellent and very satisfying. I enjoyed Kaladin’s as well and found it cathartic, but it a was moment we all knew had to come, so it didn’t have quite the kick of some of Kaladin’s other big moments. I did love his reconciliation with Lirin. One of the themes of the book was finding common ground despite deeply felt disagreements - with Navani and Raboniel, with Navani and the Sibling, and with humans and singers/Fused more generally - and Kaladin and Lirin’s reconciliation fit well with that. I am far more favourable to Lirin than most people - if you’ve lived as a pacifist in storming Alethkar, which values the lives of its people slightly more than it does crem, you’re going to have been right a solid 95% of the time, where everyone else was wrong. I can make allowances for the other five percent, especially when Lirin’s life lesson from the last five or so years has been “resisting oppression and standing up for what you believe in will destroy everyone you love”.

And on the topic of finding common ground, Leshwi’s reaction to the revelation that Venli was a Radiant was one of the single most beautiful moments of the book, and one of my absolute favourites. It’s gorgeous and moving, and at the same time rather tragic, because - what might have bern different if Venli had revealed herself to Leshwi at the start of the book? How much of the conflict could have been avoided. Singers don’t appear to attract spren as strongly as humans do, which makes Leshwi drawing joyspren particularly powerful. And then the bittersweet note from “My soul is too long owned by someone else”. (Come to think of it, this is another inverted paralell to Moash. This is someone realizing “I was wrong about everything and I’m so glad about that because it means I have a chance to be someone better than I was.”) Oh my goodness, I would love a Leshwi chapter in a later book, just to check in on her and see how she’s doing in her new life with the Singers.

I also loved the climax of Navani’s arc, and was so relieved, because up until that very moment I wasn’t sure if the Sibling would survuve uncorrupted. I know that some people weren’t pleased because the Sibling didn’t even like her, but to me that became a core part of the story, like I said above - people who deeply disagree finding common ground and common cause. That is a key element of being a Bondsmith - the process of bringing people together in spite of their differences - and something that fits Navani so well given the rapport she found with Raboniel. (Though I was conflicted about the latter. On the one hand, she made amazing discoveries that enabled her to save Urithiru. One the other hand, she...kind of collaborated with the enemy and gave them terrible weapons out of intellectual curiosity and a desire to prove herself?) I will grant that it makes the series, and the characters with the most crucial importance to Roshar, rather Kholin-heavy.

For Taravodium, all I can say is - YIPES. I have no idea how to process the implications of that, but I feel like it will be bad. Really really bad. (Taravangian is probably my least favourite character in the entire Stormlight Archive. The attitude of “I am so brave and selfless for doing evil things and look at how wonderful I am for sacrificing my own morality for the benefit of all, you petty selfish people wanting to be good could never make such a grand sacrifice” drives me absolutely nuts. It’s a complete inversion and twisting of morality, and intensely arrogant.)

Dalinar’s encounter with Ishar was fascinating, and I’m very curious to see where this goes. The spren experiments were deeply creepy! And the way Radiant Oaths can temporarily restore a Herald’s sanity was fascinating - I’m very eager to see where this goes in the next book. I suspect that Dalinar may have made a very serious mistake with regards to this trial my combat, and I have no idea how/if they’re going to fit Szeth’s whole arc into the ten days before the duel. I’ve been eagerly anticipating Szeth’s arc ever since The Way of Kings!

#brandon sanderson #the stormlight archive #rhythm of war #row spoilers #kaladin #shallan #adolin #dalinar kholin #navani kholin #leshwi #moash

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